#necklaces rings watches like they’re all gold

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Ok for the au stories fullmetal alchemist/ Harry Potter… Ed adopting a female Harry and teaching her to be a badass

Female Harry loves her grandma Izumi

Harriet Potter was an odd girl. She looked normal. Long black hair always in a braid, a fondness for red that occupied her wardrobe, big green eyes. But the fact was she was odd. She wore red yes but also the strangest sort of jewelry. Huge skull rings, tacky necklaces and clothing that one Muggleborn commented looked like it came right from Hot Topic, whatever that was.

She was ridiculously smart, and fond of debating with her teachers about everything. Her reaction to Transfiguration as a loud ‘what the actual fuck’ lived on in Hogwarts history but she also excelled in it. She even did well in potions despite Snape being… himself.

She was foul mouthed but incredibly polite to McGonagall, Pomphrey and Sprout. She always was writing in her notebook and loved to study but also tossed the books to the side to have fun.

Ron liked it. Hermione, other then disliking the cursing alongside the lack of respect for the male teachers, liked Harriet to. Or Harry as she told them to call her.

“Wait what?” Harry said as she flipped through a rather large book. “What the… fucking hell!” She jumped up and took off. “Gotta Owl my dad!”

“Who did take her in?” Hermione wondered out loud. “According to everyone she lived with her aunt and uncle but she said she was taken from them by the authorities.”

“Huh?” Ron hadn’t heard that. Hermione nodded.

“I asked her some stuff about London and she told me she’d lived in Amestris since she was six because a Military Officer took her from her relatives when they were being arrested,” Hermione said.

“Amestris?” Percy asked, having been walking by. “The only All Magical country?”

“Harry says it does have Muggles they just don’t hold with keeping magic a secret because they’re under a military dictatorship and most magical people have to register,” Hermione said. “She did say the laws are loosening after a revolt about fifteen years back…”

“Seventeen,” Harry was back with her owl on her shoulder. The girl sat down to begin to write. “Can’t believe a Philospher’s Stone…” she muttered.

“Oh! Nicholas Flamel! Yeah he’s right famous for being the one person-“ Percy began but Harry snorted.

“Amestris has a few people who made one. My dad even figured it out.” She told Percy bluntly. “And it’s foul.”

“Wait, really?” Hermione asked in surprise. Percy didn’t look like he believed it as Ron simply watched Harry.

“Yeah. Also, turn lead into gold?” Harry stopped writing to grab a new piece of paper she drew a circle on and then wrote what looked like runes down. She grabbed a pencil lead Hermione had (she used something called mechanical pencils which were kinda cool) and placed it in the circle.

Harry clapped her hands and touched the circle, causing a blue glow to envelope the lead. When it was done, a golden rod lay where the lead was. Percy stared in open mouth shock.

“Gold isn’t hard for any alchemist to do. It’s just illegal in Amestris and England actually. The only good thing Flamel did was claim the Stone was the only way,” Harry said. “I have to turn it back, but you can scan it to prove it.”

“Why is it illegal?” Ron asked, staring at the lead hungrily.

“Economics. To much gold added to the economy causes prices to rise,” Harry explained. “Things get more expensive and money becomes useless.” She let Percy verify what the thing was before she turned it back to lead.

“What else is wrong with the Stone?” Hermione asked.

“How it’s made. My dad and Uncle figured out how and were so disgusted they backed out of their goals,” Harry said grimly. “Alchemy is equivalent exchange. I can’t make things out of nothing. Conjured items here don’t last either,” Harry sounded relieved when she said that, “as you’re offering energy. But Alchemy is a science. Not magic. My other Uncle, Roy, he’s a Muggle but he can use Alchemy. All you need is what goes in.”

“Whoa!” Ron was impressed but then a thought struck him. He felt his face go pale as Hermione asked about what kind of Alchemy Roy did. “Wait… what’s Equivalent for a long life?”

Harry looked at him grimly. “A few hundred years ago Xerxes was destroyed in a single night. No one knew who had done it, not until seventeen years ago when Amestris nearly met the same fate. A man, no a monster had done it. Created a Philosopher’s Stone. He used Xerxes.”

“No…” Ron said as Hermione huffed.

“What does that mean?” The girl asked.

“A life for a life,” Percy said, his voice shaking. Harry nodded.

“So if Flamel is over six hundred years old… who did he kill for his Stone?” Harry asked quietly.

[sri-rachaa]

Man of the year || Milo Greer

[bitchface24-7]

Jayce seeing his partner in tighter clothing for the first time, some clothes that accentuate the waist and butt, and curves of his beloved.

They’re going to a gala for Piltover and Jayce walks out of the restroom after shaving to see his partner in said outfit, an all black outfit gilded in gold accents (imagine Jayce’s red and black outfit from s2), stops and GAWKS, like a holy shit type stare

And when they get to the party, some people decide to flirt with Jayce’s partner and attempt to seduce them, and because Jayce is over protective, he steps in for the reader

Plz make the two have a dynamic of black cat and golden retriever, Jayce being the retriever and his partner being the black cat

I AM YOURS (YOU ARE MINE) - JAYCE X READER

synopsis: being the partner of Jayce Talis is very rewarding. He's a dutiful lover, takes care of you, spoils you, and treats you like royalty. So when a mandatory party invite is sent your two’s way, you (obviously) go. Now when would the other citizens of Piltover realize you'll never leave Jayce, and certainly not for them?

warnings: unwanted advances/flirting, protective Jayce, possessive Jayce, smug reader, suggestiveness, black cat reader w/ golden retriever Jayce, Grammarly is my beta

genre: m/f or m/m

p.s. As a black cat person myself, this was a joy to write. I love when you guys give a bit more detail in your requests. You're giving me the meat and potatoes, and I tie it all together with bomb-ass sides LMAO

The amount of parties Piltover throws is ridiculous. The money wasted on these events could be used for so much better, like I don't know, helping the Undercity maybe?

You grumble as you get ready, not in the mood to fake a smile all night. You wanted a calm night with your partner, eat some good food, watch a movie. Anything but this.

You pull out a black silk shirt, tight black slacks, and simple black boots. Golden detailing scattered throughout the clothing. Making it chic but simple. You put everything on and tighten the silk shirt around your waist, enhancing the look of it, You then add some simple gold jewelry. A simple gold chain, some rings. It look at your silver jewelry and sigh. Piltover is all about gold, you do wear gold, but people look at you funny when you wear silver.

Apparently you can't appreciate the moon as much as you appreciate the sun.

Some finishing touches are done, and you hear Jayce leaving the bathroom, having just finished styling his hair.

"Hey babe, you almost rea--" His question halted in shock. He stops dead in his tracks. You look... so hot. You're always hot, beautiful, gorgeous, any positive adjective Jayce can think of. But you much prefer comfort over the outlandish style of Piltover, Jayce completely understands.

But your outfit now is form-fitting. Almost like a second skin. Jayce his hypnotized, maybe this party isn't as important as Jayce thought.

He comes up behind you and kisses your neck, looking at you through the mirror, his hands firm on your waist. You chuckle as you adjust your necklace, "What's all this for?" You breathe deeply, Jayce is wearing your favourite cologne. God he's so gorgeous.

"Just appreciating. That's all."

"You're meant to appreciate with your eyes, not your hands."

Jayce's voice lowers, "You sure I can't do both?"

You roll your eyes and lightly bit your lip in mock annoyance, "Unfortunately not. We got in trouble with the council last time we skipped on of these stupid parties."

Jayce groans and plops his head onto your shoulder, his beard now shaven, his smooth skin feeling silky against yours. You run a hand in his shaggy hair and laugh, "C'mon lover boy, we're gonna be late."

"This is going to be torturous. You look delectable and I'll need to talk to people who make me want to rip my hair out."

You hum affectionately turning your head and kiss his temple, "Think about it this way, if you're good... you get to take it off of me when we get back home."

Jayce groans even louder and you cackle at his pain.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The party isn't… terrible. It's not fun but at least it's not a complete snooze fest. You'd still rather be at home.

Especially since this one man won't leave you alone.

You don't know his name, didn't care enough to remember it when he introduced himself to you. He's a blabbermouth, you swear he's hasn't stopped yet to breathe and its been five minutes.

And he follows you, to the refreshment table, the snack table. You're getting more and more irritated at his lack of tact. Its quite obvious you're not interested, but it seems to you that he's ignoring that.

Its when he puts a hand on your shoulder that you get a problem, “You’re so beautiful. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“I have.”

In the harshest tone you've ever heard, Jayce sneers at the man, glowering down at him. The man whips around and blanched at the sight of a furious Jayce Talis.

“My partner is quite obviously not interested, so can you for once take a hint, and leave?”

The man sputters, his face indignant. Jayce's glare intensifies and the man cowers, speed walking away with his tail between his legs.

You sigh dreamily as Jayce hands you a glass of sweet white wine; Moscato your favourite. You take a big sip before kissing Jayce, the sweetness of the wine intermingling between you two. Jayce gasps lightly and you caress his tongue with your own before pulling away. His eyes are wide and his cheeks have a light dusting of pink on them, his scary persona completely gone.

“I was handling it… but you did good. My hero.” You croon, your voice melodic and teasing as you tap your wine glass with your finger, taking another sip.

Jayce’s chest puffs out in pride as you smile against your wine glass, “Since you saved me, you get to be as handsy as you want with me for the rest of the party. Looks like the residents of Piltover don't realize I'm yours. Let's rectify that shall we?”

A big grin spreads across Jayce's lips as he slithers an arm to wrap around your waist. He's beaming the rest of the night you're there, showing you off to everyone at the party.

This is my partner. Don't forget that.

It isn't until you lean in and whisper an idea into Jayce's ear that gets him not only excited to go home, but to come back to one of these stupid things.

“Maybe next time you should mark me up a little? A hickey here, a hickey there. That way no one can deny that I’m yours, and you're mine.”

Jayce whispers back, “You’re gonna mark me up too?”

You huff, a dark look on your face, “You think I don't see how people look at you too? I'm gonna ensure people know you're mine, and if that means hickeys and bite marks you can't hide, I'll do it.”

“Promise?” he says, his eyes big and wide like a begging puppy.

“Have I ever lied to you?”

And Jayce just smiles. Maybe this party was worth it in the end. He gets to have sex with you when you get home tonight, and he’ll get to have sex with you before the next party.

Maybe he should give the council a gift basket to thank them?

This one is on the shorter side but I hope you all still enjoyed it! Its a bit funny that so many of my fics center around a party, since I'm a total homebody and only go out to party on Halloween LOL, also I made y'all drink my favourite type of wine, thought you guys drinking champagne would be boring. Love ya ❤️

[belphegorey]

⌜sapphires, mammon⌟ his little human looked so pretty in gold ships ⎯⎯ mammon x fem!reader tropes ⎯⎯ vaginal sex, blushing mammon, dick piercing, scenting, size kink, praise, marking, pact marks, lots of greed

Gold. It dropped down your skin in silken cloth, caressing your body in the thin layer and making you shimmer. Necklaces and bracelets glittered like the finest of treasure on your body. Earrings dangled with more carats than anyone could afford.

The tantalising speck in your eye reflected the same ore. Your wicked smirk taunted him in more and more of the golden decadence you were encased in. The finest of prizes. The treasure all pirates would hunt for, the gift all people would die for, the only thing Mammon would kill for.

Rings hung on your fingers. Rubies, emeralds and diamonds galore. The jewel within the golden earrings, he realised, were perfect sapphires. His chest grew tight as they glittered under the chandeliers. “ Your eyes ,” you had whispered them on your first day in the Devildom, just after Mammon had given you his completely grand tour of the House of Lamentation, “ they’re so blue .”

Mammon could still recall his scoff. You had been so strange. Sure, he had only listened to you for an hour by that point, but he had decided you were not worth his valuable time. Most of his mind had been occupied by whether or not his stocks had lowered during the day. “ They are not blue ,” it had felt like an insult to him at the time. He hadn’t even acknowledged the sheer intrigue upon your beautifully shining face — whereas it was all Mammon could think of now, “ they are like… sapphires. Sapphires and gold. ”

You had nodded with a faint little smile. It was the first smile he had seen of yours. Mammon could describe each expression on your face, and the variety of your grins in great detail, but that one was the most valuable in his mind. Rare, special, and one you had shown him first. “ Sapphires and gold .” Yet again, his mind was occupied with profit, including whether or not he could find a way to sell you as an experiment to Solomon, but even then Mammon had felt pride seeing your soft expression just for him. The first time he had felt something positive toward you, a blissful premonition of your shared future. “ A beautiful combination .”

His tongue tied into knots. It was the worst torture he could have ever endured. Any punishment from Lucifer paled in comparison as he watched you descend into the room with the same small smile on your face. His skin burned hot and the rings around his fingers, one of which you had given him as a gift, did nothing to cool his fire. All his brothers stood around him, watching and praising your every movement, he was sure that Beelzebub had slipped drool onto the floor beneath them. Mammon scrunched his nose to ignore the stabbing in his spine.

His. It was what fuelled him. Greed was what flowed in his veins and blossomed in his throat. You were his. You dressed up in the finest of materials for him . You wore sapphire earrings for him . The little smile on your face was only for him . His brothers were not who you were looking for. They were not the ones who protected you and listened to your every story.

“You look darling, my love,” Asmo moved forward in a movement similar to that of a dance. His steps were delicate and smooth as he whisked you away from Mammon’s eyes. You had gone with him like a true ballerina, performing with your typical delicateness and respect. Mammon was sure that he could hear the growing orchestra of the human ballet play out in his head. Did that make him Hilarion to your Gisele? His fingers twitched as he noticed Diavolo and Barabatos greet you with smiles.

Everyone was watching you. Had you been anyone else Mammon would say it was because of the scarcity in your outfit. He knew better. You were the treasure that sparkled in eyes. No jewel, no car, not even his precious Goldie, were comparable to you. You were his human. He was your demon. Your first demon.

Mammon would not allow himself to just watch you be flaunted by his brother. He jumped to action, the orchestra in his mind crescendoed to a glorious triumph, and Mammon made his way across the room. Your golden dress and the sparkling smile guided him forward, the itching in his back of wins that threatened to burst through fuelled him further. Your eyes, lit brighter than the chandeliers above you, found him and your smile returned. Big, toothy, mischevious. The hand weighed down in glorious rings ran softly against your hip, the jewels catching the light gloriously.

Temptress. You were no worse than one of Asmodeus’ succubi. Mammon loved it. Your tantalising gaze licked at his greedy veins and pressed him to act further. To let loose. To properly remind everyone who you were meant for.

“I’m glad you could make it, Mammon!” Diavolo’s regular grin greeted him while Barbotos stood to his left, arms folded in the usual servant manner. Both of them stared into his body, Mammon could feel the eyes as they fell to the flood of green surging off his soulless body. He attempted a smile to placate the royal before him, but your sparkling person kept poking at the corner of his eye. It felt just wrong to look away from you, especially when the hungry gaze of all the higher demons in the Devildom were staring right at you. “Lucifer had said you would be working tonight.”

He had never been so lucky in his life. It was his own curse to step with misfortune haunting his shadow. His modelling job would always run overtime and Mammon would be left hanging from the roof tied in electric cables as punishment for his tardiness. But not that day. Not only did it finish early, a feat in itself, but Mammon was allowed to witness you in all golden glory. “I was gonna, yeah, but we finished early so i’m able to come and celebrate ya.”

He felt your hand before he properly realised you had moved to stand right beside him. Your touch was feathery, slowly running across his back to tug on the belt loop along his hip. The fire beneath his skin was red hot, your touch was the ice he needed to cool down. A shudder ran down Mammon’s spine as you leaned into him, he felt the fire rise on his cheeks at the stance. So blatant, so obvious, it showed that he was dangled on your arm. Him. No one else.

“But,” you sighed and finished your demonus with a low gaze on the floor. One of the fingers you had caught around his belt loop reached for his hand, linking his finger to yours. His lips were sealed tight as the blushed tortured his physique, “it is a shame but I need to steal Mammon for the night. You won’t mind if we leave a bit early, right?”

Diavolo waved off your worry with a hearty grin, moving with your lie though Mammon (and he was sure you as well) knew that he caught your lie easily. “So long as you come over for afternoon tea with Barbatos and I this week, it will be fine.”

“Of course,” you grinned with a wickedness he could only compared to Satan, though that in itself was like a cat. Your chest pressed into his arm as your grin only grew further. “Should I bring over some cakes?”

It was Barbatos who answered the question; with only a simple shake of his head. “That is unnecessary. I will make sure to prepare both yours and the Young Lord’s favourites for our tea.”

“Delightful! I’ll see you both then,” you bid them both a sweet goodbye with a wave of your fingers. Mammon felt himself stuck in a frozen manner as you pulled him away to the door of the castle. All he could register was the cooling touch of your hand holding his own and the sparkling treasure gracing your body.

Mammon was not one for sharing. He never shared his favourite meals. He never shared his time with you. And he certainly did not share his possessions. The gold bars he kept hidden in his safe, the necklaces and bracelets he never intended to wear and Goldie herself were only meant for him. Yet, he needed to see you dressed in his finest possessions.

It sounded glorious. His bed covered in cash and jewels, with his most important treasure laid in the centre, covered in the jewellery he hoarded and nothing else. Just waiting for him to touch. Begging for him. Needing him.

Your visage for the night’s gala was just a little treat for the reality of his dream.

“Where are ya takin’ me?” He tugged on your joined hands in resistance and grimaced as the collar of his suit choked on him. Mammon wanted nothing more than to follow your every step, but his own attitude had to intervene. The door of the castle opened and granted Mammon a warm breeze through the Devildom night. The moons were tall in the dark sky, shining bright enough to make your jewellery glitter.  “Lucifer is gonna punish us. Nah, he is gonna punish me and then say I took ya myself.”

You giggled and he felt his tongue tie together. He loved that noise, more than when the slots would make that fantastic winning chime. “I just had a thought,” you stopped walking and turned around to smile at him. His hand was still caught in yours, and you pulled him in so that your chest pressed together. “Everyone is with Diavolo, so we have the house to ourselves…”

Evil temptress. You were pure evil! Mammon groaned and hid behind his free hand, the blush burning red on his cheeks. “You can’t say that kinda stuff,” he whined into his palm, and your resounding giggle only made him whine louder. It was wicked and you knew it! Maybe you really were part succubi. “It’ll gimme ideas.”

You moved his hand from his face, lips dangerously close to touching him. Mammon was frozen once again. Does he do it. Does he grant himself the kiss he had dreamed of? He needed it, more than he needed the newest 666 Lexura (on Lucifer’s dime) but he couldn’t if you weren’t wanting it. Mammon would wait for an eternity for you. “And if I want you to have those ideas?”

From then on, it was Mammon who led you to the House of Lamentation. The searing burn of his skin was nothing to the icy touch you offered, he needed it all over his body. Your hand was tightly gripped in the veiny grasp of his fist, but you no made no cries.

There was only gleeful laughter as you ran along beside him. Mammon didn’t allow himself the pleasure of moaning over your beautiful laugh, not when he knew what was awaiting him inside the large doors it the house. As much as he did love your laugh, he was just dying to hear your moans instead.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you look so determined,” you whispered it into his ears as he fumbled with the handles of the front door. Stupid faulty lock. Stupid prank from Belphegor to annoy Lucifer. Your lips were inches from his ear, more teasing speech sounding like the song of sirens to lure him in, “want me that bad?”

No speaking. If he spoke Mammon knew he would mess everything up and wake up from the dream he had to have been having. Instead he successfully pushed the front door open and whisked you away to his bedroom. Where you belonged.

It all just felt so right having you inside his space. Your scent has gotten so faint over the days it had been since your movie night together. The aura you held, so mischevious in its purity, tainted by his pact. He could see the black blemish along your soul all around you, burned by the mark along your sternum.

And yet, it just fuelled him so much more. It was all his. You were his. You were dressed up all for him, ready to be coated in his treasure, and smiling at him in wait for his next step. You stood in front of his bed, fingers trailing down the golden dress you tortured him with. It would be so easy to push you back onto the mattress and ravage you as he had desired for far too long.

Mammon was sure that his breathing was ragged and shallow, he must have resembled a monster. His hair was messed from his own awkward hands as he tried to stay calm and the tingling of his wings still taunted his back in wait. One more step and the control over himself would combust.

He was always weak when it came to you.

“Mammon,” you whispered his name like it were a crime. So soft spoken, not wanting to break the bubble. Your mischief, the teasing, it had gone. All that stood left before him was the radiating greed from your form, drowning his mind in the finest of liquor, “I need you.”

Snap . He heard the crack of his wings hitting the air before Mammon properly felt them extend from his back. They tore through the suit he wore as he pounced on you, your back falling to the mattress under his body.

You were so small. He was not the largest demon, but there was something in the sheer difference in your frames. Your face was cast in his shadow, your alluring eyes large as you stared up at him. There was no fear when his claw tore through the front of your dress.

Instead, there was a bright smile, the one he loved, when you realised what he was doing. “Yours, Mammon,” your hands found his hair and the horns protruding from them, pushing your chest closer to his face. The torn gold along your chest had revealed your glorious body to him, but most importantly, the mark that made you his.

“Mine,” the word was like a growl on his tongue as he watched the mark. It glowed in his presence, even more of the glorious gold that he loved. “Had to watch ya be shown off. I felt sick watchin’ but I couldn’t look away from ya, Treasure.”

You lifted a leg around his hips to press yourself against his erection. Mammon felt his cheeks go red from the shame but your shaky moan at the touch melted it away. His greedy little human, it felt amazing to know he was not the only one desperate. “Did I look pretty for you?”

“So so pretty,” he pushed up the skirt of your dress, letting the long material bunch at your waist. He wouldn’t let you take it off, maybe not for a long time. His colour was just too beautiful on you. “Gonna need you to wear this every day.”

You shuddered against him as Mammon ran a long finger along your cunt. No underwear. He had always heard Asmo talk about how you couldn’t wear panties with some clothes, but he just thought it was a lie. And yet, you were on display for him just like that. “That may be hard since you tore the front,”

“Ain’t no one else seeing you in this.” No. No, he couldn’t be having that. Even if you were in an outfit that covered all your skin under hundreds of layers, Mammon would still prefer it for his eyes alone. The wet heat on his fingers made his head spin in horny glee, the sweet smell of you making his eyes roll. “Just for me from now on. Got it? Me.”

You pushed against his seeking hand, rubbing more of your slick onto his palm. His erection throbbed in his pants. He needed to feel you. Feel all of you. “I sound like a doll then.”

His wings flapped and Mammon bit his lip. Doll. That worked. He rather liked it. “My doll, though, not my brothers,” he dug his head into the crook of your neck. Your smell was so strong, it streamed from every pore in your skin, he felt intoxicated. The growing lust, the overwhelming greed, even the licks of pride that often made his face scrunch were delicious from you. “Need ya really bad, human.”

You stroked his hair and rolled your hips against him. “Then, have me,”

The soft words had spurred action within you both. Mammon had gone into his back while you adjusted yourself to straddle him, his erection flush against his toned chest and leanings beads of white. Your eyes never strayed from his dick, he felt like glowing under your approving gaze.

“You have piercings?” Mammon nodded with a smirk, shining from the wetness he could feel growing on his thighs. You liked it. He should have known you would.

Your hand gently went to grasp his cock, thumb running along the golden piercing beneath the head. His moaned through his teeth at your curious touch. You did it again, gauging his reaction and milking another bead of precum from his slit.

Mammon noticed the bite of your lip, the slow grinding of your hips and the flooding lust in the air. He wanted to show off for you, tease you, and simultaneously ask if you wanted him to get more. “I really like it,” you eventually said, rubbing your palm against him as you lifted yourself into the air.

He dug his fingers into the mattress beneath him. It was happening. The thing he had craved. Something Mammon would have sold all his belongings for. You. He got to have you!

You aligned his dick with your entrance, whimpering as he entered. Your golden dress had fallen down and hid the act from his eyes, which may be a good thing because Mammon knew he would never be able to tear his eyes from it. He groaned as you slid down the shaft, taking more and more of him in such a slow movement that it felt torturous.

Until, he was completely in you, pushing you and stretching you out. He could feel your cunt tight and warm around him, throbbing in need for only his touch. Your face was scrunched in desire as your lip wobbled. His little human. All full.

“Doing so well, Treasure,” he moaned the praise into the air, his hand right on your hip. The glow of his pact mark fuelled the flames inside his body, only triumphed as your tits slipped from the torn dress. Mammon couldn’t help himself. “My human. Lookin’ all pretty for me,” he continued to whispered all the praise he had ever thought of when it came to you, moving himself up and closer to your chest.

When his mouth kissed the skin around your breast, your body shook as you moaned. He graced his fangs to see your reaction — it was just as needy as the last. You began to move on his dick, bouncing up and down while you pulled on his hair.

More marks. He wanted to leave enough marks on you that no one would dare go near you. Mammon squeezed his hand in your waist as he bit gently on your chest, and to his surprise you giggled through your shaky moan. “Am I your property now, Mammon?”

“Not property,” he was quick to dismiss that. You were his, but not an object. You were his favourite treasure, someone to worship. “You’re mine though. Don’t ya forget that or else.”

Your movements were that of a succubi. You’d managed to get him nice and deep inside you, threatening his control over just filling you up with his cum each time, then pulling him out so just his tip would kiss your opening.

And yet, your face was angelic and oh so sweet. Mammon was enamoured. “I won’t ever forget,” he couldn’t help but nuzzle into your neck again. It felt so safe. Mammon kissed your neck as he moved his other hand to your hip, moving your body with your bouncing, adding just the slightest bit more speed.

His favourite doll. His sapphire and his gold. His.

© belphegorey 2024 ⌜18+ banner from @/cafekitsune thank you <3⌟

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

Inspired by the latest Reductive Audio:

Lil useless facts about my fav boys/listeners. No hate if I didn’t include your fave, I was making my list off memory and am just now realizing I missed like… three entirely series worth of people.

Vincent

He prefers silver jewelry over gold, but doesn’t care if styles are meant for men or women. He likes what he likes and will wear it. He’s a particular fan of dainty necklaces and women’s wrist watches, but likes men’s rings better.

Sam

He smoked when he was human. Lucky Stripes, since they’re cheap. It was a bad habit he picked up when he was eight or so to cope with his home life. He lost the ability to be chemically addicted to nicotine when he was turned, but he still itches for a cigarette when he’s particularly stressed.

Alexis

She’s very jealous of Will’s attention. She gets twitchy when he’s paying attention to anybody else for too long. This results in spikes of her reckless and bad behavior. It started when Vincent was turned, then when he took in Porter, then when she turned Sam. The most recent was after the Inversion.

William

He cannot paint or draw to save his life. He’s followed five or six Bob Ross paintings, but they never turn out right. He can draw stick figures, but that’s about it. His penmanship is beautiful, though.

Porter

Will made him testify against his maker since Porter’s treatment was particularly brutal amongst Felix’s progeny. Porter didn’t want to, but he recounted every moment of Felix’s torture while being stared down by the man himself in front of the whole council. It was so damming that Felix invoked him to stop. That’s the moment that Porter still has nightmares about.

Lovely

Lovely is incredibly anxious around their human friends. They’re scared that they’ll lose control and hurt someone, even though they’re very well fed and haven’t shown any lack of control in the past. This results in a few months after the inversion that Freelancer thought they were dead, since they showed up on the casualty list.

Treasure

Their older brother is a humanborn freelancer. He’s an enforcer for the Department. They think that fits him well, since he was always sort of a bully growing up. Treasure themself is an investigative journalist who writes for an empowered newspaper. They were trying to get a table at the Monarchal Summit even before they met Porter, but that didn’t pan out.

Freddy

He played french horn in high school. He was pretty good, and was drum major in marching band his senior year. He threw up before every game because he was so nervous.

Bright Eyes

Singer/song writer. Y’all ever listened to the Mountain Goats??? That’s their shit. Slow moving acoustic guitar, songs about the most disturbing and distressing emotions humans are capable of surviving recorded on cassette. Singing at dead coffee shop open mics in the wee hours of the morning. Their voice is raspy and rough, but the texture just draws you into their even timber and perfect pitch. They’re a minor celebrity in Dahlia’s sad boy live music scene.

David

His hips and back hurt So Much all of the time. He figures out that it’s because he’s incredibly strong but not flexible in the slightest. An imbalance in those two factors can lead to a lot of pain. He starts doing yoga after the Inversion when it got really bad and it’s helped a ton. Plus, Angel does it with him, and he likes watching them bend into all of those poses in their tiny, skin tight shorts.

Asher

He keeps track of how much David weighs and makes sure he can comfortably lift and carry that much weight at the drop of a hat. At the end of every work out, he deadlifts David’s weight to make sure he can do it when already spent. He should have been carrying David after the Inversion, but he didn’t have the strength to do it even when not fucked up. He won’t let that happen again.

Milo

He needs reading glasses but refuses to wear them. He tried contacts but he can’t stand to put anything in his eye. So he just squints and struggles through. His phone’s text is blown up like a grandpa’s. David is so bothered that Milo won’t just… get glasses. He keeps passive aggressively offering to add Milo to their vision insurance plan.

Christian

He had a little crush on Asher in middle school that translated to teasing the shit out of him. Which, Asher being Asher, put him off and hurt his feelings. He’s well moved on but sometimes, when the sun catches Ash just right or he smiles that stupid, toothy smile, Christian mourns his own stupidity.

Arden

Desperately protective of Christian, especially after the Inversion. The first time Ash makes a light-hearted joke about Christian’s limp, Arden put his ass on the ground, despite Christian laughing at it.

Gabe

He drove a white Chevy Cameo with a red interior for most of his life. It was lovingly maintained, and since it’s such a rare model, he did all of the maintenance himself. After the crash, the truck was totaled. David still spent a few years trying to put it back together. He called it quits when he was working on the interior and found dried blood under the leather of the seats.

Angel

They have a small stuffed lamb that they’ve had since they were a baby. It’s beaten up, falling apart, and no longer the stark white it started out as. Lambie is kept in their bottom bedside drawer. They only pull him out when they can’t sleep. They were worried David would think it was weird, but he actually finds this more endearing than he can put into words.

Babe

They didn’t start talking until they were three. Their parents thought that they were nonverbal, and had started teaching them ASL as an alternative. Then one day at the breakfast table, they opened their mouth and started spouting full sentences. They taught Asher ASL and the two of them use it when they want a private moment in public/when Ash is overstimulated. (Side note; David also knows ASL, he took courses in high school. Very useful, he loves it. He does not love it when watching them flirt nastily in front of him.)

Sweetheart

They’ve had anxiety since they were a very young child, and it’s always been an internally-sourced thing rather than externally motivated. They recall the first time they ever got in trouble at school (first grade, for pushing a boy who had been tugging on their hair all through recess). They remember the first time they got a B (fifth grade, on a math test they studied for for hours). Their parents had high expectations, but Sweetheart was having panic attacks from the age of three. Definitely something ~chemical~ going on there.

Darlin

They feel pack bonds incredibly strongly. Their body reacts physically when someone in the pack is threatened or hurt, without them even having to think. They shiver when Sam calls them ‘mate.’ When David says something in his lovingly dubbed ‘alpha voice,’ they can’t help but listen. They knew Gabe was dead before they got the call. They thought Ash was dead during the Inversion because they felt David’s dread through the bond so strongly.

Avior

He’s unnerved by human’s tactile nature. Being in a body is strange for him, and he prefers Aria to Elegy (at least before meeting Starlight), so touch is an extreme sensation for him. Humans touch so much. He’s not opposed to it when it’s someone he knows, but handshakes are the bane of his existence.

Starlight

Halloween is their favorite holiday. They start decorating for it in August. They plan elaborate, complex costumes and parties. They desperately want to move into a house so that they can set up scary decorations and shit in their yard and hand out candy to trick-or-treaters. Avid lover of the Spirit Halloween animatronics. They go to Halloween Horror Nights every year.

Camelopardalis

He’s trained himself to use the human terms for things (ex: terra or earth instead of elegy) since some in the Department don’t like it when daemons use their terms. It means that he gets weird looks from other daemons when he talks to them. It’s an alienating feeling for sure.

Vega

He’s never tried human food. He never saw the appeal. What he doesn’t know is that he would absolutely Love dark chocolate if he tried it. He likely will never know.

Warden

Avid reader of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle comics. Just the comics, though. They don’t have an apartment in Elegy, but they do have a small storage unit where they keep their comics. They coalesced a few years before the comics starting their run, and for some reason, they just fell in love. Vega thinks this is silly and that they should be embarrassed, but they refuse to be.

Hush

He loves Popeye’s fried chicken sandwiches. Doc fed him one once and it blew his fucking mind. He won’t make them with magic, either, he insists that they don’t taste the same. Doc has started just getting gift cards for him to keep so he can get one whenever and doesn’t have to wait for them to give him money. He’s ravenous for those things.

Doc

They’re actually a warder, not a healer. Hush’s presence has encouraged them to refresh their healing knowledge, however. Even if he himself is difficult to hurt, he sort of invites chaos.

Morgan

He uses his foresight to see what the owner of his favorite little bodega down the street is going to have for breakfast every morning. It’s his little morning ritual and practice for his magic. He feels weird all day if he doesn’t do it.

Seer listener

Their sight is more potent and more clear than Morgan’s. They can give stark details, see full landscapes, and turn 360 deg in their vision and see the whole space. They also can hear what’s happening consistently, something that goes in and out for Morgan. He figures that they’re just more powerful than he is, something that makes them just the slightest bit uncomfortable.

Damien

Gets incredibly stressed on election days, whether for local, state, or national elections. He forces everyone he knows to vote, volunteers to shuttle people without cars, and has at times volunteered to be a poll worker. But elections make him anxious. He cares so much about the results. Huxley has recently instated a post 9pm ban on watching the news on election nights so that Dames will actually sleep and not stay up all night stressing.

Huxley

Does not eat beef. Not for religious reasons, but because of the impact of beef consumption on the environment. He’s about one step away from a full vegetarian, he just likes chicken and is concerned for his protein and vitamin intake. This is difficult for Damien, who loves nothing quite so much as a rare steak.

Lasko

He was forced to take piano lessons as a child. He hated it, but took them up to the point he left home. He’s still very good, and did get peer pressured into showing off at a random guitar center once while out with the D.A.M.N. crew. He nearly died of embarrassment.

Gavin

He has a collection of very pretty rosaries that he uses as jewelry. He is not religious, and if asked, cannot describe what a Catholic is to you. He likes to wear them around his neck, dipping over his body since his shirts always cut down to his navel. It makes people gasp and blush, which is his favorite effect to have on somebody. His fav one has beads made of mother of pearl and a little, golden crucifix on the end.

Freelancer

They love cheap Chinese buffets. They claim that, the lower the health rating, the better the taste. Their desire for krab rangoons is strong enough to pull them from the comfort of their home at 2 in the morning if the fancy strikes. Damien in particular is horrified by this, and keeps offering to cook them some actual Chinese food.

Dear (Lasko’s listener)

An all star volleyball player in high school and college. They were a setter, and took their team to nationals all four years of high school. They are on the starting line up all through college. When it gets brought up in their trip that Damien plays casually, they said they did too. And then absolutely creamed him.

[spadesofgrass]

Oil On Canvas

1.6k | Teen + Premise: Trystan gets a makeover (or) a thinly veiled character study through the lens of fashion. (Crimes of Passion, Choices)

A/N: Yes this is a repost. Had a few things to change and read through. Overall I am kind of happy with how it turned out! Hope you enjoy! <3 I'm sorry if you were tagged before and tagged again and it's just a mess lol

___

They like you, but they’re like, not invested in you.

Sometimes negative attention is positive attention and sometimes it is the other way around. And sometimes you have to bite your tongue and not kill yourself.

We want you to be approachable, but also aloof. We’re thinking a fluff piece every two months. All praise, but first you must look a little less suicidal. A reinvention, we are calling it. You are as fluid as the ocean, sunny as the warm breeze. We want you to be loveable, but not too much. Look the part but — it is a lot better if you can like, get some red in your cheeks. Eat some eggs. Noticeable. Like the Gods walk amongst us.

Stressed clothes exemplify a mixture of grief and a chance at reconciliation. A gold bracelet or necklace will help you stay rooted. A temporary tattoo - the night is still young, you are your mother’s rebellious daughter - do we get that vibe? Yeah? Oversized pinstripe jacket with thick leather shoes. All tucked in. Your mother’s obedient son. Softer, relaxed textures will make you feel at home. A little baggier so they know you’ve been eating okay. Tint of colour everywhere, like copper pops. Your smile should reflect the orange. We’ll get you some staples - brown trenchcoats, silken trousers, blazers. Designer. Off-season colours are something I would personally recommend—?

We are going to experiment very little but it is good to fit in with the art deco crowd. Symmetrics. Stained glass windows. Slim jackets. Florals but we’re not going to go in with the typical bullshit - Venice floating markets, it needs to be organic. Snakes, roses, marshy gardenias. This isn’t a youth school choir, you can lose the tie. We’ll put you in a sweater. It is inviting. That is what you need. Bulky deck shoes with chunky soles with stark polish should also help. Tint of colour, okay? We’re trying to make you a real person. Do you feel real?

They do like you. You just need to give them something to work with.

Rings are just too um.

They aren’t what we’re going for-? It feels too —

We don’t want to scare them. Rings are only as good as the bearer’s fingers. Yours are too watery. You can hold a book - if you like? I dunno. You’re boiling, you’re right off the stove and there’s just a lot of anger and regret that people may not like to see. It’s an ugly grief and it wouldn’t come off as wearing your heart on your sleeve - but — interpreted literally so. Does that - make sense to you?

We can’t do much with your hair - baseball caps are best worn sparse. It will seem like you are trying too hard and you’ll have people sending you death threats. We’ll try scarves. Classy, down-to-earth. Embroidered with your trademark silver. A pop of metal in your clothes will offer your viewers consistency.

We’re trying to make you a plausible - person. A digestible concept. Watches are not — your jam, you will seem more busier and more bored. A thin silver band on your left finger and a gold bracelet in your right wrist; just obscured by the sleeve. A certain roughness around the edges. Shoes - um, we’ll have suede slip-ons. It needs to be fast. A flicker of colour. Grey silk, dark jacket.

Have you heard of the painting, The Persistence of Memory by Salvador Dali? It’s at the Museum of Modern Art - a drive away. You can go see it. They used to teach it to me in class - a symphony of hard and soft surfaces, a play on sight and time and textures. Sometimes you are never really quite here. Sometimes you blend in so well, you fade away and the colours don’t sing to you. You aren’t sure if you are just filling up space or taking space. It is the kind of ambiguity you want everyone to see you with.

We’ll dress you in big sweaters and socks. We will make you appear more wise but doe-eyed. Printed jackets, brightly coloured streetwear paired with Birkenstocks and thick shoes. We can play around with silhouettes for everyday wear. Whimsical pastels and patterned socks. Surreal with a touch of professionalism. An interesting shift in perspective every other day or so - whenever you’d like. A cheat day in this - way where you can select one item of clothing for yourself.

Sight, textures — what else?

Something immortal, maybe. We are thinking of a consistent piece in your wardrobe to have sleuths poke and prod at you from a distance. Sentimental that doesn’t have you ugly-crying. You have to move like water, like time. You cannot stick to one specific emotion. If we are having you wear a Drakovian flag for a consulate meeting, we will have you wear Her colours in the weekend. If there must be a headpiece - like a silver hat of some sort - we will have to incorporate it in your belts.

An hourglass jacket can do you wonders, but only if there is love at first sight. If we get a sniff of the surrounding air and detect something foul, we will change things up once more.

Perhaps this conversation wouldn’t matter in the long run, but it is an important one to have.

Well, we have always seen you as the eldest child, the firstborn. I think there is something like, intrinsically regal about it. You have no land for yourself now, but you do have the time in your hands. There is also something naive about the oldest child in a family, but it will be difficult to deliver that message through clothes. You aren’t helpless now. Trust me, whimpering, desolated looks will do you more harm. It is ugly to seek for help so desperately. We want to paint you as a mother’s favourite. A flawless, favoured-by-the-Gods. A replica of your mother’s necklace is being arranged for you to wear. Innocent and charming. It won’t be read in the same like, helpless flavour you so want to push for.

Once a month, we will opt for a glimmery turtleneck. Tailored nicely. Some eyewear - a pair of smart shades. Futuristic in Times Square. Forward-thinking. You don’t want to appear empathetic or approachable here. White platform shoes. Instant attraction. We will try to reflect like, the seriousness of the Drakovian Idea - the next carrier of the baton. A big bag to imply the same. New York moves fast and you faster. Never abreast and more of a casual observer. The latest headphones in the market to calm your hair down.

I love a good story. I love it when there’s a really specific mental image I can find in real life. It is a comforting Easter egg soup.

There are certain films you can watch to get your grip on the railings. We will try to make you seem like you are a pocket full of hope and ideas. Plaids, cable-knit jumpers, tucked-in khakis, playing around with velvets and matching belts and shoes from When Harry Met Sally. Beautiful oxford shirts - crisp and fit, denim bell bottoms, like an ode to the 60s, but in a less tackier way - perhaps replicating the idea of The Last Days of Disco - literally too. Everyday is New Year’s Eve and your clothes tell a story of rebirth. Ever-changing.

Shearling jackets, half-sleeved buttoned shirts, a very lost-in-your-20s, very Frances Ha. Let yourself seize a moment of messiness when you can. The image of you is young and foolish and you should be able to stare at yourself in the mirror and rub your tired eyes. We can experiment with the landscape; put you in situations where you stand out. A monochromatic you in a city of lights. A dark, hopeless road and a bright pair of rose-tinted glasses. Contrast is a boring, overdone subject and people have written theories about it, but it helps to have more of it and an odd number of it, rather than in twos and fours. Water or wine? Red, blue, green or yellow? You understand?

For the sake of the rising temperatures and the volatile sharks, we vehemently discourage you from having others’ tastes rub off on you. Anything you can be caught with. Think of it like your Mother reading your thoughts - the ugly doubts, the hidden truths. Romances are - like, great, but this is organized. This is important.

Books, people, thoughts, secrets, they are merely accessories. Who you are is a much more closely guarded truth and it is unwise to have that affect your outward appearance. It is just a turbulent time to be yourself. It comes off more as cheap than anything else. You might as well write a self-help struggle snooze-fest guide and that will be more promising.

We want to avoid making mistakes. You are neither a person seeking refuge or a heir to a powerful business. You are not a popstar or a model, you possess a face nobody can quite recognize and we want to stay away from costly errors. You are what the story offers at the moment. If they deem you rebellious, you are. If they deem you ungenerous with a ‘kiss my ring’ angle, you are.

It is such a painfully human understanding and I am not interested in that, much like everyone else. You are an idea and I have an idea. You have to be like, persistent.

People have to like you. But they don’t have to love you to like you.

__

Tagging: @aces-and-angels @trappedinfanfiction

[redwayfarers]

ties that sever, ties that bind

Fandom: Wayfarer Ship: Intellis (implied) Characters: Cassander Inteus, Despina Helena Inteus Rating: Gen Words: 2375 Spoilers: Mild spoilers for ep2! Author's note: this is the final part of a series, though it can be read as a standalone. Read the rest over on ao3! divider credit

Find Zenaida, the agreement goes. Split up and find Zenaida. She has one of those faces you see in the crowd, full of other equally bright, decorated and artificial faces. Aeran whispered to me she seemed more honest than most, earlier, and maybe she is, on the Dareia. But here, in the crowds of nobles? She’s like everyone else. 

When you grow up around these things, it’s easy for one face to replace another. I vividly remember the few events I was invited to as a kid; I was told to not speak to people, to just nod along to whatever they’re saying and sit in the corner, a child-shaped statue. I wasn’t to embarrass the family, Aiantes said. 

So they got me all dressed up, in one of those child appropriate versions of adult serithans, and styled my hair out of the way. A curl or three would inevitably slip, even if the hands that had braided them were very skilled, and I remember Theokleia staring me down. We have the same hair, my mother and I. I knew her hair wasn’t as flawless as she’d pretended it was. 

She never forgave me for that. And for many other things, but the knowledge that the same trait that gave us both a sharp, prominent nose also gave us the same coarse curls was like a cherry on top of a cake of hatred. Her makeup was always well done, gold like her eyes. Her nails were long and pretty, painted to match her serithan. She always wore gold jewelry, rings, necklaces, earrings. 

And me? Gold dangled off of me in much the same way, mismatched and too grown up. The nails were a little too much, but I was allowed a dash of white every now and then. And so we’d pose, my mother and I, show the world my health is just fine for the moment, and I’d be carted off to a seat in the back, with my back ramrod straight, mindful for any movement, sound or word. 

Aiantes wore luxury more effortlessly than his wife. The simple styles of the Vestran elite suited him better than they did Theokleia; they made him look graceful, pristine. Yet he too was dissatisfied; he was rarely allowed to be an eyesore he wanted to be, in bright colors. Too Arathian, I heard him mumble under his breath. Too much, too foreign, too extreme. But he watched turquoise cloth with barely restrained yearning. 

And here I am, almost two decades later, in that same Arathia my father hated and envied at the same time. Mahanin Palace roars around me, proud and loud and unapologetic, and I’m walking amongst the crowds of nobles with my scars and tattoos, dressed in turquoise, with a Wayfarer pendant around my neck. The same curls Theokleia struggles to keep in line are now more defined than they've ever been and braided loosely on my shoulder. 

It’s freeing, in a way. As much as I’m filled with memories that were never mine to begin with, there’s this strange sense of exhilaration about it as well. I am not bound by the same social conventions as everyone else. My lack of magic made sure of that. Instead, I can walk around with the ink on my skin and not worry about jack shit. I can wear my hard-earned scars and not worry about how it may appear to some stuffy asshole who’s never seen any trouble in their fucking life. 

That, and I’m taller than most people I see. Aeran jokes that I’ll spot Zenaida for that alone, and that same Aeran didn’t tear his eyes off me before we joined the throng. That same Aeran kept touching my fingers ever so slightly, whose presence was the soothing balm for the weirdness that is dealing with the aristocracy like this again. 

When he’s gone, I feel plunged into deep, dark waters of my long-lost destiny or some poetic shit like that. People are watching, staring. The Cassander from years ago - the child in the corner, ramrod straight, watching like a hawk for any infraction - rears his little curly head and watches. I am not that kid anymore, I outgrew this! Yet my throat feels tight. My skin feels exposed, but I want them to look. I want their hungry stares and I want to be as unsightly as I can be, just so their worst fears can come to life. 

A Wayfarer, straight from Wayfaring Lands, in their fucking midst. An Inteus, from Vestra, the Red Wayfarer everyone kept whispering about during the civil war. A class traitor, almost. A cursed being. An eternal exile. 

Find Zenaida, the deal goes. She has to eat, probably. Off to the Pavillions, then, as one very rude servant instructed me. His eyes were trained on my pendant. “I haven’t acquired the ability to not eat and survive yet,” I breathed with equal amounts of venom. The guy just turned his back to me and left. Find Zenaida. Zenaida will eat. 

The Pavillions look like a place where people’s marriages fall apart. Nobles mingle, laugh, at ease with each other, so different from the stiffness of the parties in pre-war Vestra. Some give me strange looks - an exotic animal walks in our midst, better drop my eyeballs to the ground from how hard I stare, right? Languages mix in my ears alongside accented Arathian. These people are educated, beautiful, carefree. I could’ve been one of them, in another life. I understand every word they’re saying. 

Suddenly, Vestran hits me like a knife to the gut. I turn my head and spot them, their simple serithans, their loose hairs, their sparse jewelry. They speak with the familiar lilt of Vodena, fast and flowing like the city itself; there are harsh, slow drags of northern dialects and the absolute, nigh incomprehensible mess that falls under the way southern Vestrans speak. They didn’t speak like this when I was a kid. They spoke like the nobility of Vodena. They are relaxed now, so they’re not forcing the fucking issue.

Amongst them is a round, short woman in white. My heart clenches in my chest. She moves her hands rapidly as she speaks, revealing details of pink here and there. Her nails are flashes of dark pink. Her hair is black, wavy and glossy. 

My sister Despina has always had a huge love for pink. She was allowed to wear darker pinks, more graceful pinks, but only in bits and pieces. Pink has always been her statement color. Her serithans reminded me of Theokleia’s, merely adjusted to the body of a developing teenager; she wore the weight of them as much as I did. What a small mercy, I think bitterly, to be allowed to wear a spot of color. To be allowed to express personal preferences. 

When she turns around in my direction, I dig my heels in the ground. She looks like Aiantes, now even more so as an adult. She may have the precocious balance between a curl and a strand of hair and the golden eyes that many elves have, but she’s her father’s daughter. The way she holds herself proves it. She doesn’t let the brief shock in her eyes show but joins her fingers before her instead. She watches me, judging, in the same way Aiantes did, as if her elven eyesight allows her to pierce souls as well as darkness. 

Despina lowers one hand to rest near a plate of sliced oranges. I blink. My legs refuse to stay still and move where they’re supposed to, so I’m slowly walking towards my sister and the oranges near her hand. I vaguely remember someone telling me she used to feed me oranges when I was a baby. I don’t believe it, personally. Sounds less plausible than me suddenly getting magic. 

I reach out to take one. My heart wants to leave my body to convulse and die through my throat. Neither of us are looking away. The chatter of the Vestran delegation dies down. 

Despina moves her hand. Not fast enough, though. One touch and she’s looking away. “Red Wayfarer?” she asks softly, in Vestran. 

“Despina Helena Inteus?” I reply just as quietly, in the same Vestran as her. Mine sounds tainted with Arathian. “I have a name, you know. I am not just a Wayfarer. There’s a person somewhere as well.” 

“Cassander,” she says. She says it differently, though. Kassandros. “Why are you here, Kassandros?”

“I am Zenaida Anaxas’ bodyguard,” I reply quietly. Her eyes blaze, assessing, before she takes one orange slice and bites into it. 

“Whatever happened to Lady Markal?” 

“Dangers are many,” I say cryptically. It almost makes me laugh. And I do, only more quietly than I would’ve normally. Despina watches me, playing with the delicate silks of her serithan. 

“Lady Anaxas has always been a rather odd woman, from what I hear,” she shrugs. “I did not expect her to hire a magianis bodyguard, though.” A pause. “I thought you had died, Wayfarer Inteus.”

She speaks so evenly, so formally, her words accented so precisely I could’ve been reading a grammar. Nobody speaks like that. Aiantes didn’t speak like that, Theokleia didn’t either - not when the eyes of the world were away, at the very least.  She’s barely blinking, her body is tense. What is she afraid of? 

“Fortunately for all of us, I am here to entertain yet again,” I say, more harshly than I intended. “Cockroaches are hard to kill.” 

“I do not find your existence entertaining,” Despina says. 

“Not even when I was a kid? Not even before you knew I was a magianis, not even when you supposedly fed me these fucking things? Do sisters not play with their brothers?” There, an accusation, right at her feet, because otherwise we’d be here talking in circles forever. Her tone does not allow for any acceleration, but for fuck’s sake, mine will. 

Despina purses her lips. Wind blows her hair to and fro, light and breezy, but the way her back straightens is anything but. She is now the ramrod straight, cornered child. Part of me feels horrified. Part of me wants to push, to prod, to ask all the questions that have been on my mind for decades. Where were you when I needed you? Where were you, o’ older sister, where were you when our own mother slapped me across the face and watched me beg and cry on the ground? Where were you when she threw all her rage on me, like a bag nobody wants, where were you? 

Oh right! By her side, laughing, watching, throwing insults as well, immaculate, coward, fucking weak! Anger boils in my very being. The oranges stare at us as a stark reminder of what we had, before nature fucked up. 

“Officially,” she starts cautiously, “that did not happen.”

“Officially? And that never lies!” 

“Truthfully,” she says, as if I never responded, “the line was drawn and I had to choose. So I made a choice.” 

Anger dissipates. She’s the first to acknowledge what’s happened - my parents refused, Aftonio had no idea, Nikias rejected the concept altogether - but Despina.. Said it. Here, in the same empire that loomed over our heads when we were kids, like a demanding mother. Theokleia isn’t here to judge us, though. She is away, she’s somewhere else. 

And in her wake she leaves her eldest children to admit to ancient wrongs. And do what with that exactly? What will I gain by confirmation? What happened can’t be undone. They took my peace years ago. What will I gain by this? It lingers in the air, a dagger to cut the knots of anger and shame or slit your own throat. 

“Do you even care what my opinion of that choice is?” I whisper bitterly. “Not like it’ll change shit.” 

“Not like it’ll change shit,” she echoes, now in a more normal, less proper accent. “I simply felt like you should know. Do with that what you will.”

I eat an orange. It is juicy, sweet and tastes entirely too much like ashes. “I am here on a job, Despina,” I say hoarsely. My eyes are weirdly dry. Maybe my heart soaked all the tears. “Tell me one more thing before I leave - are my orange groves safe and sound?” 

I used to escape there when life as an Inteus became too much. Too bad I didn’t chase that label away when I could, at inauguration. I loved those groves. There were no orange groves at the Spire to escape to, when life as a Wayfarer became too much at times. It’s the only thing I think of fondly when I think of that fucking estate. 

“They are,” she says softly, like a goodbye. I take a look at her one last time - her shiny waves, her made up, long eyelashes, her thinly lined, golden eyes, the curves of her shoulder and belly in her serithan, the dusk of her skin in firelight - and I feel my eyes prickling. 

“Thank you,” I whisper at the oranges. “I hope you treat your heirs better than our mother did hers.” 

We exchange glances one more time, for a mere moment a brother and sister again, and she turns to the rest of the delegation like nothing happened. And me? Rasimira’s talking to a group of nobles. They’re pestering the poor steward about something. There’s no sign of Zenaida, but maybe Rasimira knows where she is. 

My heart feels like a soggy cloth, but I am here on a job. I am a professional. Nothing else matters. Still, part of me hopes that Despina’s children don’t face the horrors I have. Part of me hopes one of them is magianis, so at least a part of me lives in that family. Maybe I will see them in a few decades or so. 

And maybe we can all sit around our parents’ graves and discuss what they’d done to us all. Maybe then we can bury our hatchets, or raise new ones, of our own make. A Wayfarer, Lady Inteus, a Guild mage, and whatever the fuck Nikias ends up as. 

I have a job to do. 

[fictomorph]

Any Objections? (Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth TF/TG/MC)

This story contains female to male TF, character TF, and identity death as well as Wrightworth shipping/romance.

———————

“Looking for something in particular?”

A voice disturbed Griffin, who was currently hunched over the top of a display case, filled with rings, all of them beautiful, finely crafted….and expensive. He jolted up, meeting the eyes of the clerk.

“Oh...yea.” He rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardly chuckling. The clerk looked him over, trying to read him for what he wanted. Decently groomed short chestnut hair, a purple polo shirt and pressed jeans, brown leather dress shoes...probably had something decently important later today. And considering what kind of jewelry he was looking at….

“You’re proposing later, aren’t you?” Griffin paused, nodding.

“How did you?...” He sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Ugh, yeah. But everything’s so expensive...I’ve been saving for practically a year and even then I can barely afford any of the good ones!” The clerk watched him as he went back to pouring over the rings, struggling between getting his loved one something they deserved and something he could pay off.

“Actually..” He perked up, holding a finger in the air as his icy blue eyes pondered a thought. “I think we might have a set of rings in the back for decently cheap, $100, $120….but they still look rather nice and are of high craft. Would you like me to see if we still have them?”

Griffin nodded, letting out a sigh of relief. “Really? Oh thanks, man, you’re a lifesaver!”

“Ah, no problem. My job is to help people find what they’re looking for, after all! Now if you’ll excuse me…” He walked off, headed into the forbidden parts of the store unknown to the commoner. After a few minutes, Griffin (who had started scrolling through Twitter) was brought back to reality by the sound of something being set on the glass in front of him, along with the clerk’s statement of “Take a look”.

Two small ring boxes were laid in front of him, one coated in red velvet and the other in blue. He lifted the red box, popping it open to reveal the contents inside. A rose gold band, with two small diamonds and one ruby crowning it. The edges of the band flares, giving it a ruffled pattern almost like creased fabric. Ooh...this would be perfect for her! He picked up the blue box, inspecting its hidden treasure as well. It was a similarly simple pure gold band, two sapphires on either side of a diamond tucked away in a golden four-pointed star. He looked back to the clerk, grabbing both of them as he fidgeted his wallet from his pocket.

“You said these were…$120?” The clerk nodded, leading to Griffin slamming the money on the counter. “Oh man, thank you so much! She’s gonna love this, I-I can’t thank you enough!” Placing the ring boxes in a bag for him, the clerk waved as another satisfied customer ran off.

The rest of the day was as normal as it could be for a day leading up to such a big event. Griffin called to double and triple-check his reservations were still in place, re-washed and ironed everything he was wearing for later, and took an intensive shower. Everything had to go perfect for tonight. Soon enough, after what felt like both no time at all and a full eon, his doorbell rang. Answering it, he was met with the face of his beloved Kelly. She had dressed similarly nicely, a long somewhat shimmery orange dress accompanied by a pearl necklace. Her blonde hair had been neatly curled at the edges, letting it frame her face in a rather flattering way.

“You look nice.” Griffin stuttered, eyes darting across the room as she chuckled.

“Thanks. You too.” She grabbed his hand, leading him out the door. “C’mon, we should get going. You said this place was expensive, and I don’t wanna miss our chance to eat $100 steak.”

The car ride over was nice, Kelly looking out the window at the late-night city’s lights. Her eyes drifted over the scenery, soon enough settling on the restaurant they had arrived at. She had known it was a fancy place, but she didn’t expect it to look quite this nice. The building had strings of fairy lights dangling from it, and as they walked in, she took note of how well everyone was dressed. She started to think she might’ve underdressed for the occasion.

“Mr. West? Ah yes, we have your reservation. Please, follow me.” The waitress led the two to an empty table, one which happened to be on the patio. A nice open space, no one else outside, illuminated by the moonlight….it was perfect. Griffin kept a hand on the two ring boxes in his pocket, waiting for the perfect moment.

Whatever was above must’ve taken a shine to them that day, as the dinner went perfectly. Their food was cooked to perfection, the wine the servers brought out was a rich palette, and all night the moon and stars were perfectly visible and bright. As Kelly polished off her second glass of wine, he gripped the boxes tighter than he ever had before and sighed.

“Hm?” Kelly placed her glass down, focusing on her partner. “Something wrong, Grif?”

“No, it’s just….we’ve been together for a while now and...you’re really important to me. I

realized I found something I don’t wanna lose. So….” He took the red box from his pocket and held it out to her, letting her see as he popped it open. “Will you marry me?”

She gasped, grabbing the box as she teared up. “Oh my God….yes!” His heart pounded out of his chest as she slipped the ring on, admiring it. He had taken the shot and hit a bullseye.

“The best part?” He held the blue box in his hands, showing its contents to her. “They’re a set. We match!” Putting his own ring on, Kelly practically pounced on him as she pulled him into a hug that turned into the two holding each other’s hands, rings resting against each other. It felt like a moment that would last forever…..until they withdrew their hands in shock.

“Ow, something shocked me!” Kelly rubbed her hand, surprised by the indignant interruption.

“Yea, me too….might’ve been some static electricity or something in the rings.” Griffin explained to the best of his knowledge. That was a thing that could happen, right? Metal conducted electricity.

“Mhm...probably. Felt a bit stronger than static, though. It was just...weird.” She unconsciously flexed her fingers to fully shake the feeling, although a new, even stranger one replaced it. Her hands began to shift, growing broader and more well-groomed, like they belonged to someone from the upper class. Though the expected tightness of the ring becoming too small for her fingers was strangely never present…

“Maybe you just aren’t taking your wine well.” Griffin chuckled, taking her hand in his in an attempt to comfort her, only to realize how large it was compared to mere moments ago. He gulped, feeling his hands become a bit more comfortable in holding hers, the change nowhere as near as drastic as Kelly’s but still something concerning. His arms tensed, swelling with a slightly toned layer of muscle new to his form. He took his hands from Kelly’s, looking over them. Sure, he admittedly never held his wine the best, but he’d never hallucinated before, and he’d definitely never actually felt it.

“Grif? Do you think someone put something in our food?” She took a longer, more well-built arm to her chest, feeling the fat layered on it melt away and replace with an admittedly not too shabby set of pecs. “Wh-What?” Her face flushed, eyes widening at the realization that whatever was happening to them had decided to shift her sex around.

“I’d like to see whatever drug can do something like this at all, let alone this fast!” He gripped onto a chair’s back, groaning as his back popped, leaving him slightly taller and, as a cursory scan of his new body would reveal, sporting a new set of abs. “Woah...this is...something.”

Kelly, meanwhile, was not as enthralled with her changes as Griffin was. She felt awkward enough in her dress already, and the cracking of her spine and toning frame didn’t serve to help. What only made things worse was the notable pressure she felt from her high heels, confirming her fears as the sides of the shoes gave, leaving her feet exposed in the cold night air. “Ugh….just kill me now….”

“Hey, cmon, don’t be like that.” Griffin pulled her into a hug, grinning in an attempt to ease her fears. “This probably won’t be that bad.” She looked up at him, desperate for some form of comfort. It was probably just the changes, but...he looked so much more handsome than usual. His jawline was sharper, his eyes had cooled to a soft smoky grey, and his formerly chestnut hair had burnt to a dark black, even changing how it was styled into a striking slicked back and spiked look. Something about it was…..familiar and comforting.

Griffin swept a bang from her face, letting him look at her shifted face. He let out a quiet gasp, her heart sinking.

“I-Is it bad?” She clasped her hands together, still feeling the ring.

“No, you’re...you’re gorgeous.” His hand rested against her cheek, taking everything in. Her face had gained this strong stoic look to it, almost statue-esque. His hair had faded to a platinum, combed into a set of bangs that perfectly framed his face and made similarly pale eyes stand out. “I...wow.” He’d never felt this strongly towards...anyone. He took one of her pearls in his hand, only to let go of it as he realized it had gained an odd fabric like texture.

Kelly watched as her pearl necklace flattened and softened, the chain around her neck becoming the same silk as the pearls now were. She brushed over it with her hands, the string now a rumpled scarf of some sort...what was the term? The word “cravat” suddenly popped to mind, albeit she didn’t know where from. Yes, that was right.

Griffin coughed as something tugged against his throat, looking down to see a bright red tie had formed around his neck. More notably, where it touched seemed to sap the red from his shirt, leaving it pure white as the still-blue edges tugged away from itself, leaving him with a formal white undershirt topped with a sapphire blue suit jacket. “Guess they have a stricter take on business casual than I thought…” He awkwardly joked as he watched the blue spread down to neatly pressed dress pants, his changes finishing with his shoes expanding slightly and shifting into dark leather.

Kelly brushed her face, slightly flushed from Griffin’s new form. …..Griffin? Was that right? No, that...that wasn’t it. What was his name, though? As she thought, her clothing underwent its own metamorphosis, bleeding into a combination of a black vest and a deep red suit jacket, albeit this one more high quality than her partner’s. The material shared its conquest of her wardrobe with her partner’s changes, as the ends of her dress wrapped around her legs into fanciful perfectly tailored wine red pants. Her shoes even got a second shot as the heels flattened to the ground, a refined pair of leather dress shoes.

“Is...is it over?” The two looked at each other, Griffin pausing at his new voice. It was young, nothing too outstanding on its own but probably could be with some power put behind it, like some form of objection.

“I...I believe so.” Kelly gasped, putting a hand to her throat as she felt her new Adam’s apple. The voice it had given her was a rather pleasing one, deep and proper, the voice of someone who really knew what they were doing. “My...this is all so….” She didn’t get to finish her thought as she trailed off, Griffin taking her hands one again.

“Not what I expected to happen tonight, either. Can’t say I’m too mad though.” Kelly blushed, Griffin’s face equally red as he leaned in for a kiss, which she gladly reciprocated. That simple act sealed the two’s fates as when they pulled back, a different, more fitting set of memories and personality traits belonged to the pair.

“Wright....must you be this extravagant?” He looked around the patio, taking in the almost storybook-like picture the two found themselves in.

“Of course. Nothing else for my Miles.” Edgeworth turned his head, leading Phoenix to giggle.

“You’re an embarrassment.” He tried to come off as his usual stern self, but the slightest hint of a smirk on his lips was his lover’s cue to keep going.

“Hey, you know how I get when drunk.”

“I suppose I do, Feenie.” Miles slipped his hand into his partner’s, only for the two of them to pause and investigate the rings they didn’t remember putting on.

“Guess I was a bit more drunk than I thought….” He looked away, rubbing his neck in that ever-so-Wright way. A pause of awkward silence, before he sighed and reconnected eye contact. “Hey um….even if we don’t remember it...would you still...you know…”

“Of course, you idiot.” Edgeworth full on smiled, a rare sight, and grabbed Phoenix’s hand once again, planting a kiss on his cheek. Even if they didn’t quite remember how they got here, this proved to be the best night of their lives.

[thearchmanofgreenfield]

As the sun passed the highest point of the sky, bringing forth the evening, Lucian dread reached fever pitch. All his yes could see was a dagger plunging into his hand. He had learned not to be frightened of the faces that would surround him. But the thought of crumbling under the pain still haunted him.

He sat in his room, the clothes he had worn in the afternoon lying in his bed. He wore a black shirt, over which he wore a ceremonial black waistcoat with golden buttons and a pattern of gold branches weaved all over it. Next to him on the bed was a long white cloak, trimmed with yet more gold. On top of the cloak was tall top hat with a strap and a small golden rod shaped like tree branch sticking out of the top. Lucian stared at this set of clothes, knowing their immense importance. He then laid on his bed and sighed. Still conflicted and still filled with dread.

As he laid on his bed, his hands outstretched. Trying to drown his worries away, he heard a knock on the door. The sudden sound made Lucian’s head jerk swiftly towards the door. The first knock was followed by a second, but Lucian didn’t feel like answering. He convinced himself that it was most likely Lily, or Benjamin or the twins. Such assumption barely lasted a few moments, because the second knock was followed by a voice, one that made Lucian jump out of his bed with fear.

“Lucian, are you in there?” said the voice, it was feminine but sounded much older compared to any of his peers. The voice sounded clam at first but it soon became angrier, “Open this door right this moment, young man!”

Lucian practically fell from his bed as he desperately staggered towards the door. He grabbed the doorknob and unlocked it before swinging it open. On the other side of this door was a woman who looked like she was in her forties. She wore a whitish grey dress and a similar waistcoat with a pattern of silver branches. She had hair that was blend of black and brown which extended down to her neck and was held back by a horizontal crown braid. She had brown eyes and a kind smile. One of her most striking features was the blue gemstone necklace she wore around her neck and the golden ring she wore on her left hand. Her name was Janice, Janice Demon, Baroness of Demonum Borough.

“Mother…!” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t think I need a reason to see my own son!” said Janice. She then walked forward; Lucian instinctively moved out of the way, he then watched as she took the cloak and top hat that were lying on his bed. “I assume you have no complaints about these, you will have to wear them throughout the ceremony. So I suggest you tell me whether or they need to be changed,” she said while glancing at Lucian. Lucian nodded, “No, they’re fine”, before he sat on another side of the bed. Janice took both articles of clothing into her arms before turning around in order to walk away. Lucian took a deep breath and prepared to return to his sulking. But then he saw Janice peek over at him while she was walking out, she seemed to realize something was wrong that moment she saw his face. She stopped walking and sighed, she then walking over to Lucian whilst glancing at him sympathetically.

“Is something the matter?”

Lucian flinched, somewhat surprised. “What? No! Nothing, mother,” but his hurried and somewhat lackluster response did not deter Janice. She sat down next to Lucian. Her sympathetic smile made Lucian melt faster than any of Joe’s insults and accusations. “How are you feeling?” she asked with a voice so soft that Lucian thought he was being enveloped by clouds.

“A bit…uneasy” he said. Janice chuckled, “Well that is an understandable feeling, it is not wrong to dread the mysterious,”

“Did you fear it?” Lucian asked suddenly, “During your ceremony,”

Janice looked off into the distance for a moment, perhaps recalling her own experience. She then smiled again, “Yes, yes I did. And so did your father,”

“Really?” asked Lucian curiously, finding the thought of Henry being scared of something a bit unbelievable. “Why of course! Don’t let the formality fool you! Your grandfather told me your father was practically shivering in his shoes when he walked up to the knife and chalice! I suppose you’re really his son in that regard,”

Lucian sighed. Those words relieved his worries some more. But he still had questions. “So what was it like? Your ceremony?”

“Well, it was far more modest than this, that’s for sure!” she said. “Even the lesser nobility of Everton Borough would look humble compared to all this,”

Lucian blushed. But Janice was still not done. “I see you’ve been getting along quite well with the others,”

Lucian snapped out of his thinking, “Y…yes, mother. I suppose you could say that,” he said swiftly think about all the things he had done with the others up until that point. All the sneaking and speculating. Part of him worried whether his own mother suspected him of something.

“Good, Lily told me that she didn’t think you’d be so open. I suppose it is safe to say you’ve thoroughly proved her wrong,” said Janice, Lucian noticed the tone of her smile shift a little. It made him feel somewhat uneasy and it only reconfirmed his thoughts.

“Lily underestimates me, she like to be demeaning and insulting. She gets laugh out of it,”

“Well that is just how she is,” Janice said with a sigh, “Admittedly, she reminds me of myself at that age. But don’t fret too much over your little sister. Such qualities often go away with age,”

Lucian laughed weakly. But then Janice gave him a side eyed glance. “Your father tells me you’ve been sneaking about the house with the Hatlys and the Morrows”

Lucian inhaled sharply. Which made his mother raise an eyebrow.  “May I ask what you’ve all been doing? Your father tells me that he caught you snooping about outside his study, he seems to think you’re up to something”

“No!” said Lucian hastily, but he then realized that his response wasn’t ideal. So he continued, “No, mother. I was a just… showing them the house!” he said, his mind working faster than it had ever done. “Nothing more,”

Janice narrowed her eyes at her son. It was clear that she wasn’t completely convinced. Lucian was beginning to sweat. But to his surprise, and relief, Janice just sighed.

“Hmm,” she said, “Well I suppose there’s nothing wrong in that,”

Lucian sighed inside. He still wasn’t sure whether his mother had been convinced. But he wasn’t going to pry any further. And neither was she. Janice then stood up from the bed with the ceremonial clothes still in her arms.

“Well best of luck, dear. I know you will not disappoint!” she said with enthusiastic smile. Lucian smiled back, trying to seem equally cheerful. “You know I won’t, mother! You know I won’t,” he tried to say, but his tone ended up sounding weaker than he would have liked. Luckily, Janice didn’t seem to mind.

Lucian watched as his mother walked out of his room. She closed the door behind her. The moment Lucian heard the door close he released a sigh of relief and laid on his bed with his arms outstretched. He then began to drift once more into self-loathing, driven farther the fact that he had reassured his mother that he was ready for the ceremony. He knew such wallowing wasn’t what most would consider healthy, but there was a certain comfort to be had in the admission of fear and doubt.

Unfortunately, he was but five minutes into his deep pondering when he was interrupted once again by the sound of someone knocking on the door. This time Lucian wasn’t going to take any chances. He quickly got up from his bed and ran to the door before the stranger outside had barely knocked twice. He swung open the door, expecting to see his mother once again. But to his surprise, the only person that stood there was Benjamin.

“Uh…hello?” asked Lucian quite awkwardly.

“Umm, is this a good time?” asked Benjamin, who seemed to notice Lucian’s awkward and sullen expression. Lucian saw him try and peer behind him, trying to get a look at what was behind him. But Lucian simply adjusted his posture in order to block him.

“Yes, of course!” Lucian said swiftly with a half-hearted smile, “Why would it not be?”

“Wasn’t that your mother? Did she ask you something?”

“No! Nothing at all! She was just trying to console me. That is all,”

“Oh good! Because the Morrows want you to come to the downstairs lounge. They want to talk more about that letter you all found before the ceremony starts,”

“Oh” said Lucian, intrigued. “Well tell them I’ll be there in few minutes. I just have…some things to arrange,”

Benjamin narrowed his eyes at Lucian for a moment before shrugging. “Well whatever you’re doing, you better hurry. I hardly doubt Joe wouldn’t take every second you’re late as proof of treachery,” he said with a smug smile.

Lucian simply smiled weakly in agreement before closing the door again. Once he did, he simply leaned against the door and sighed. He then opened the door again, but this time only slightly. He peeked through the small keyhole and looked as to whether Benjamin was still standing there. Sure enough, he wasn’t. Lucian was about to walk out of him and join Benjamin in the lounge when he remembered something. He turned away from the door shortly and almost walked towards a table that stood next to his bed. The table had a small drawer beneath it. Lucian grabbed the drawer and opened it. From within it he took out a golden pin that about a third the size of his palm. It had a circle with eight teeth and a trident at the center engraved on it, the symbol of the House of Demon. Lucian looked at the pin; he didn’t know what it meant to him. Perhaps it meant family, perhaps his mother’s words had inspired him, but whatever the case he knew he had to wear it. Therefore, he took it and pinned it to his shirt beneath his waistcoat, hidden just like the way his father wore it.

Lucian then made his way out of the door and towards the lunge. He went through the hallway, down the stairs and towards the hallway leading to the lounge. But just as he made it down onto the second floor he noticed something. He saw a soldier, wearing a brown cloak, standing at the entrance to the hallway leading to Henry’s study. Lucian didn’t think much of it at first but the he saw the soldier look at him with a stern and serious gaze that was as hard as iron. He eyes seemed to follow him as he walked past him.  Lucian looked back the soldier, but his gaze did not divert. Lucian felt a deep sense of uneasiness, especially when he noticed that the soldier’s hand sat suspiciously close to a gun that visibly peeked out of his uniform. Lucian did not pause or stop, he simply quickened his pace as he walked passed the soldier, momentarily staring back from time to time to see whether the man was watching him. Sure enough, the man never took his gaze off him until he reached the lounge door. Lucian could hear voices echoing through the hallway leading to the lounge but he did not stop to listen. He simply pushed the door open and marched inside, losing sight of the soldier at last.

Inside the lounge, Lucian was greeted with the sound of incomprehensible chatter. Chatter that died down the moment he entered. Lucian immediately noticed the Morrows in bright colored attire sitting in the same corner that they had sat before. He saw the Venshires sitting in a sofa close to the center of the room. He saw Joseph sit on a lone chair facing directly at him. Finally, he saw Benjamin, who stood only a few feet in front of Lucian.

Benjamin stopped whatever he was saying and turned to the door the moment Lucian entered. For a moment, Lucian thought Benjamin would greet him. But to his confusion, Benjamin looked… disappointed?

“What? No!” he gasped as Lucian looked on with confusion. He saw both James and Joe snigger in their seats. “What’s going on?”

“He was trying to get us to bet on whether you’d come or not again,” said James with a smug grin. “Unfortunately for him, we did not fall for it.”

“Well you would’ve!” said Benjamin. “You all heard Charles say that there was a chance he won’t come,”

“I told you it was improbable!” Charles interjected. “A needle in a mountain circumstance,”

“Well there’s always good money to be made in off chances!” said Benjamin. “But now you’ll never get such a chance” said James. “Lucian inadvertently foiled your plan for profit,”

“Well, there’s still the Hatlys and the Mornings, they’re not here yet!” said Benjamin. Even the Morrows seemed to raise their eyebrows at that suggestion. Benjamin, disheartened after realizing that his peers were less than convinced, turned around and looked to Lucian’s right before asking, “Right, Maurice?”.

Before Lucian could ask anything, he heard a spine curdling ‘CAW’ from his right side. The sound made him jump almost instinctively. He turned to his right and saw a black void of feathers shaped vaguely like a bird, standing on a wooden stand in a corner of the room outside his vision. The bird ruffled it’s feathers and cawed again before standing as standing silently and regally. Benjamin smiled at the bird before turning to the others. “See? Maurice agrees with me!”

“Do you really rely on your pet to support you?” asked Alice, not impressed.

“Well excuse me for having someone to turn to when in need,” Benjamin said defensively. He then stroked the raven below its beak affectionately.

“What…is it…doing here?” Lucian stuttered. Benjamin and some of the others glared at him. “Oh don’t mind Maurice!” Benjamin said swiftly, “He’s just got some valuable information to tell us,”

“By that you mean, tell you,” said James. “Because for all we know it could all be baseless nonsense,”

“Are you doubting me?” asked Benjamin, once more on the defense. “Don’t tell me Joe over there has rubbed off on both of you as well,” he said pointing his finger at Joseph, who yawned out of boredom.

“Well he’s right, though!” said Alice. “According to Joseph, your sister is in on everything! How do we know that you and that black-feathered chicken aren’t?”

Both Maurice and Benjamin tilted took heads back, seemingly offended by that statement. “Well if you knew Lira like I do you wouldn’t be making such accusations,” said Benjamin plainly. He then seemed to go on a rant. “Believe me; she’d rather choke the life out of me than tell me anything. After all that training my mother insisted that she go through even I’m not sure that isn’t some Gratousy spy disguised as my sister!”

The room fell into an awkward silent. “Hmm, seems all is not well in paradise, eh?” Lucian heard Charles whisper to Willow. Benjamin seemed to hear it too but before he could go on another tirade Lucian, who hadn’t understood anything thus far, decided to switch topics.

“Information? How? What do you mean?” he asked, turning towards Benjamin. Benjamin seemed to calm down after that. For he simply cleared his throat and returned to his regular posture. “Well I might have ‘accidentally’ left Maurice’s cage open for the past day. He’s been quietly spying on our parents. Flying around the house listening to their talks,”

“And who’s to say that Lira hasn’t done the same?” James interjected. Benjamin immediately gave him a grim glance. James opened his mouth to say something else but Alice quickly tugged on his arm and got him to stop. Alice then gave James a stern glare. James paused for a moment. He then shrugged, apparently disappointed, but he didn’t go against Alice for he simply stayed silent.

Those words echoed in Lucian’s head. Had Lira used her raven to spy on him and the others? Would he have noticed if she did? He tried to convince himself that Lira had no reason to do such a thing. But then he remembered what he had said to her the day before.

“The rumors? Does she think they told them to me?” he thought to himself. He was beginning to regret his earlier choices. But before he could sink too deep into his own mistakes, he was once again swept up by the conversation.

“So when are you planning on telling us this oh-so special secrets?” asked Joe.

“Ah, ah,” said Benjamin. “Not so fast! I want everyone to hear it! And that means waiting for the Hatlys and Mornings!”

James groaned. “Are all Bernsteins so damn insufferable?”

“Well it takes one to know one, I would say,” Benjamin replied with a merciless haste. “Now! What about a little wager to pass the time, hmm?”

“NO!” everyone screamed at once. Benjamin shrugged with disappointment, but he seemed to have gotten the hint.

A few moments later Lucian heard the door open from behind him. With timing that almost felt comical he saw both Laura and Charlotte enter the room, followed shortly by Evelyn and Arthur Morning. Lucian then noticed a fifth person enter from behind them. His eyes widened slightly when he saw Lily appear from behind the Mornings. She immediately walked up to him and, to his surprise, put her arm around his shoulders before speaking in a cheerful tone.

“Well! You actually did it! You actually did something useful with yourself!” she said with a sort of pride.

“What?” asked Lucian quickly taking her arm off his shoulders. Lily gave him a smug look. “Well I didn’t think you’d be possible of anything other than mild disobedience, but breaking into father’s safe? Are you even the same person?”

Lucia didn’t find her ‘complements’ very amusing. He simply replied with a frown and an annoyed stare. “What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to look after Lid and Lucy,”

“I was,” sad Lily without hesitation. “But I managed to pass those incredibly important duties onto Luin. Believe me, he was very grateful”. Lucian was not impressed by the thick sarcasm that emanated Lily’s words. However, he did find the image of Luin wasting away with the twins to be somewhat amusing. He also briefly and smiled waved at the others. Particularly at Laura and Charlotte, both of whom returned the gesture with equal enthusiasm.

Suddenly, once it was clear that everyone who was needed had arrived, Joe stood up from his seat. Attracting the attention of everyone in the room. He then turned to Benjamin and Maurice the raven.

“So, Bernstein? It appears that everyone you want is already here. So mind telling us what your fat crow has to say?”

Benjamin took a deep breath. “Firstly, he not a fat crow. Secondly, I…” he said, but Joe gave him a tense stare, his fist twitching as though he was ready to punch him. Benjamin saw this and immediately stopped talking and gulped. He then took another deep breath and turned to Maurice.

Lukan saw Benjamin take Maurice into his arm. He then lifted the raven up to ear. Maurice then started making faint sounds that sounded like regular raven sounds. But to Benjamin they seemed to mean something different.

After a moment of listening to the raven, Benjamin turned to the others. “He says that he heard them talking in the living room about two hours ago. They seemed to be talking about what happens after the ceremony,”

Everyone looked with intrigue and interest. Even Joe raised his eyebrow. “After the ceremony?”

Benjamin nodded. “They said something about a train, one leaving the city tonight. About how they’re planning to catch it after Lucian’s affair is all said and done,”

“A train? To where?” asked Evelyn. “The Baronies,” Laura replied swiftly. All eyes the turned to her. Lucian assumed she had read Benjamin’s mind faster than Benjamin had spoken.

“He’s talking about train leaving for the Baronies, in the countryside. Far away from the city. I assume they’re going to take us there the moment we leave this house,”

“But why?” asked Alice. “Why leave so suddenly? And without telling us?”

“Well now that’s obvious,” said Joe. “You all saw the newspaper. The Circle is on the brink of conflict. It’s fair to assume our parents are taking us to the countryside in order to flee from it!”

“Then why wouldn’t they tell us, hmm?” argued Charlotte. “How would they keep this a secret from us once we’re on the train? Wouldn’t it be better to tell us immediately?”

“Because perhaps we may not make it to the train!” exclaimed Willow. All heads turned to her. Willow momentarily glanced at both Lucian and Laura. Lucian’s face then went pale. Lily seemed to notice this, for she tugged on his arm and asked, “Lu, what’s wrong?” Lucian saw Joe stare at him, but before he could answer James interjected.

“What do you mean?”

“I have been seeing things in my visions,” said Willow. “Both Charles and I see something going wrong in the future,”

“What’s going to happen?” asked Arthur restlessly. To which Willow sighed, “I don’t know. It’s not clear enough for me to understand. All I see is roaring fire, a glowing door and the sound of guns. None of which I would consider a good sign,”

Everyone looked at Willow with expressions of shock and terror. Lucian saw Laura look at him with a worried expression. Lucian’s blood ran cold and his mind flowed with a million grim thoughts. But none seemed to be worse than what the others were feeling.

“S…So is that it? We’re doomed? No, right? Your father must have seen the same thing. Our parents must have a solution!” exclaimed Benjamin, seemingly unable to comprehend what he had just heard.

“It is a matter of probability,” said Charles plainly. “These events may not come to fruition but that is yet to be seen. I assume our parents thought it best not to tell you all this given that this is the reaction you all would’ve given. Better to have us oblivious than worried, asking uncertain questions that demand answers,”

“So why tell us this now?” asked Joe, raising his eyebrow suspiciously.

“Since we are so close to the turning point, I feel it is better to warn you all now, when we’re all here at once. Better than to let you all find out when the time comes,” said Willow. She then once again turned to Laura and Lucian. Joe followed her gaze and soon he began to stare at them as well. Lucian gave Willow a pale expression, Laura turned to Lucian and shook her head in panic, which aroused the suspicion of Charlotte. Willow gave Lucian a subtle nod, and before he could reply, she turned to the others and spoke.

“Besides, if there is any chance of us making it out alive, they lie with Lucian. So it’s best we be prepared if the time comes,”

Lucian’s skin went paler than milk. He immediately saw the shocked and confused gazes of everyone in the room fall onto him, including the gaze of Lily, who looked at him as though he had committed some heinous betrayal. He saw Charlotte stare directly into his eyes, trying to read his mind. Lucian tried his best to hide away his thoughts but then he saw Laura grabbed Charlotte by the shoulder and pushed her attention away by covering her glasses with her palm. Charlotte responded to this behavior with a look of confusion.

“SO YOU WERE HIDING SOMETHING!” shouted Joe suddenly. He then took a few aggressive steps towards Lucian. “Care to tell us when you were planning to tell us about our impending deaths, Demon? You sly-tongued fiend!”

“Hey, watch it!” said Lily defensively whilst taking a step forward, to Lucian’s surprise. “He wouldn’t dare hide something like this without a reason!” she then turned her head towards Lucian, “Right?”

Lucian remained silent. Joe was not impressed. He saw Lily’s confidence waver. “Hold on, how do YOU know all this?” Arthur suddenly asked. “Did Lucian tell you before he told all of us?”

“I overheard him. He told it all to Hatly over there the moment she started questioning him,” said Willow plainly pointing towards Laura.

All eyes then turned to Laura. Lucian saw he face turn red. Charlotte gasped and looked at her sister with an expression of shock. “You knew?” she asked but Laura didn’t answer. She stayed silent for a few moments. She stared at Willow with a baffled look. A look that turned into burning fury as she then marched over to Willow and, to the shock of everyone, slapped her in the face.

“YOU WRETCHED LITTLE SNITCH!” she screamed as her slap almost made Willow fall over and trip on her skirt. The entire room erupted into uproar and arguing. Laura tried to hit Willow a second time but Charles swiftly grabbed her hand and stopped her. Charlotte then grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back, with Laura still struggling to get her due vengeance.

“HOW DARE YOU!” Laura shouted. Willow recovered from the slap and looked at Laura with look of outrage. “How dare I? HOW DARE I? How dare I what, secure the future? What were you planning to do by holding onto such important information? Were you planning to tell us all when we’re about to die?”

Laura went quiet. Lucian could feel the cold stares of the room slowly shift towards him. He saw Joe walk up to him with an aura of bitterness. His glare was unavoidable and steely. Lily tried to stand between him and Lucian but Joe just lightly shoved her aside. Lucian tried to stand firm and meet his gaze with something that was equally intimidating. But his posture was found lacking compared to that of Joe.

“What is it?” asked Joe plainly. “What?” asked Lucian, initially confused. This seemed to increase Joe’s frustration.

“Morrow said you have a way out. That means our parent’s told you something, yes?” he voice was subdued, yet still it felt like a threat.

“I…ah” Lucian stuttered. His mind was still conflicted. Lira’s orders and the desire to let out the truth bought fought for dominance inside his skull. He opened and closed his mouth several times. But no words came out. Joe raised his eyebrow at Lucian, which only deepened his internal arguing.

“The lives of your peers will rest in your hands,” his head rang.

“The lives of your peers will rest in your hands,”

Finally, it seemed as though he had pushed his silence too far and Joe seemed to snap. Within an instant his hands lunged towards Lucian without a warning. Lucian barely had time to react as Joe grabbed him by the collar and pulled him violently towards him.

“SAY IT! YOU PATHETIC, TREASONOUS WRECTH!” said Joe. His suddenly burst of aggression triggered the entire room into a frenzy. Lily grabbed Joe by the waist and tried to pull him away shouting, “Get off of him!” but Joe simply shrugged her off. Laura tried to help but Charlotte held her back, her own feeling of anger still unresolved. Meanwhile Joe shook Lucian a few times. Finally, Benjamin ran over from his side of the room and grabbed Joe by the shoulder. He then pushed Joe away with all his might. Joe tried to hold on but he was forced to let go of Lucian. He fell back and leaned into one of the chairs in the center of the room, his expression showing nothing but disgust.

“ARE YOU INSANE?” asked Benjamin, “You won’t accomplish anything by using brute force! What is wrong with you?”

“HE IS STILL WITHOLDING CRUCIAL DETAILS!” Joe snapped back. “After all this, Demon still won’t spill the truth!”

“Why are you so obsessed with ‘the truth’?” said James. “Has hearing the unwanted whispers of everyone who has ever met you made you think everyone is lying to you?”

Joe gave James a look of shock, his posture now appearing almost feral. “But he is hiding the truth! You all heard Morrow. He is keeping the way to safety all to himself!”

“Well perhaps it’s for good reason!” Lily shouted back. She then shot an unsure glance of Lucian, who was still a bit shocked from Joe’s aggressive shaking. “Maybe the future is better off if we do not know,”

Joe looked at Lily with a look of a both rage and desperation. It appeared as though the entire room had turned against him. “Are you all mad? You can’t be serious!”

“You took it too far, Angelmore!” shouted James. “We do not attack each other! That is not the way we do things!”

“Well, fine then!” said Joe, throwing his hands in the air, apparently accepting defeat. “You are all FOOLS! He has hid things from us since the day we came here, and none of you have the will to find out!”

Lucian looked at Willow, who looked at him back and nodded. Lucian then looked at Laura, who he knew was reading his mind at that moment. Laura did not move and both she and Charlotte simply stared at Lucian with Laura giving an expression of acceptance. He then looked around the room, which seemed to be on the verge of chaos with both Benjamin and Lily standing beside whilst Joe argued with James and Alice. He then took a deep breath and sighed.

“IT’S THE MIRROR!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. Joe and the Venshires immediately stopped arguing. Benjamin and Lily turned to him in surprise, as did the Hatlys and the Mornings. The Morrows both closed their eyes and sighed. Lucian stared Joe straight in the eyes as he spoke.

“That’s the solution. I was supposed to take you all into the Mirror for safety if things went wrong. THAT ISIT,” he said with his utmost authority. “Are you happy now? Satisfied? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED TO KNOW?”

Joe stood speechless. Lucian walk past Benjamin and Lily and approached him. Both him and Joe stared off at each other, appearing as though neither knew what to say next. Their standstill was only broken when Alice chimed in.

“The Mirror? How?” she asked. Arthur seemed to follow her lead since he too then stood up with his own questions. “Yes, how? Is there a Flame Door here?”

“Yes, a Gateway,” said Lucian plainly, without looking away from Joe. “I’m supposed to open it using the Flame lantern hanging above the door to the hall. The one we used earlier to open my father’s safe,”

“But why you?” Charlotte then asked, to the surprise of Laura. “Lira told me that if the times comes. I will be the only one able to open it. She also told me not to tell any of you…”

“Perhaps for fear of changing the future,” said James whilst looking at the Morrows, his expression was of concern. “Are you both sure this does not seal our fate? If Mr. Morrow and your aunt saw the same thing, surely they would have told us, right?”

“Oh hogwash!” said Willow, who sounded almost insulted. “Perhaps they decided to focus more on the futures where we all follow Lucian here like cattle without question. Perhaps that is what they expect of us,” she said, addressing the entire room. “Perhaps my father did not see a bad outcome where we do not know the truth, but neither me nor Charles see any future where knowing the truth works to our detriment. And besides, any future in which we remain oblivious would’ve been compromised the moment Lucian spilled the truth to Hatly!”

James narrowed his eyes at Willow. But even he seemed to know that it was too late. The truth had come out. And there was no way in which they could take it back. The room fell into silence once more. “What else did my sister tell you?” asked Benjamin.

“Well, she definitely did not tell me how to behave during the ceremony,” said Lucian lightheartedly. He then looked at Joe, who looked conflicted. In Lucian’s eye, Joe had gotten what he had demanded. Yet he still did not seem satisfied. He stared at him coldly.

“I think we’re done here,” he said, to the surprise of Benjamin and Lily. Lucian then turned around faced the door. He saw Laura momentarily reach out to him, but then she took it back and returned to her sullen expression. He noticed Charlotte give her sister a subtle yet obvious frown. But at that moment, Lucian did not want to get involved lest he wanted to stoke the fires even more. He simply turned to the door and walked away slowly, leaving behind a divided room. But at that moment, he didn’t care. In all honesty, he was quite fed-up with them all. Therefore, he simply walked steadily out the door and closed it behind him.

Once he was in the hallway, he took a deep breath. He looked back at the door one more time before turning away and walking down the hallway. But as he walked he got the feeling that something was odd. He looked around but so nothing out of the ordinary at first. But then he realized it. He walked to the end of the hall and peeked over into the lobby. He realized that soldier who had stood there earlier was no longer there. At that moment, he simply assumed that the man had moved on. But it gave him an unnerving feeling for some reason. But as his attention was focused on the now empty lobby he heard a sound come from behind him, the sound of footsteps. He then felt a cold chill run down his spine when he felt a hand grab him by the shoulder.

“AH!” he screamed jerking violently and turning back to face the owner of the hand. But to his surprise, and embarrassment, he realized it was just Lily.

“What were you looking at?” she asked, seemingly concerned by the way Lucian had reacted. “Nothing,” Lucian replied plainly.

Lily smiled smugly, “Well that was quite the display you did. Never thought you had it in you to yell back at Joe,”

“He deserved it; he thinks he can do to me what he likes. Well he is wrong in that regard! I have my dignity,” said Lucian. The very thought of Joe only brought back the memory of him grabbing him by the collar. Lucian couldn’t take such an insult.

“Now that is debatable,” he heard Lily whisper under her breath. “Well at least you proved you can stand up to him,” said Lily examining her fingernails. “But where that dignity of yours lies I think is a different question entirely,”

Lucian sighed and smiled slightly, “Ah, I see. So you’re mad at me for keeping secrets, aren’t you?”

“Mad? Yes. I along with most of the others. Charlotte and the Venshires in particular didn’t take it very well,” she replied in a fast-paced voice, her demeanor slowly shifting away from subtlety and calmness and towards urgency and panic. “But surprised? No. Frankly, I am impressed you managed to keep a secret for this long. But I suppose you were always one for obedience,”

Lucian flinched. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, nothing! It is just that Lira told you not to tell anyone and you abided dutifully. But still, it seems odd to me that you told Laura before everyone else,”

“She pressured me!” Lucian said swiftly. “She was onto me from the start. And I couldn’t escape her mindreading,”

Lucian saw Lily look back towards the hallway. She sighed. “Well, speak of the restless spirits and they shall come forth,”

Lucian raised his eyebrow no confusion. Then he heard more footsteps and moments later, he saw Laura appear from the hallway, staggering towards them with sadness written all over her face.

“Are you alright?” asked Lucian sympathetically.

“Charlie won’t talk to me. She said I betrayed her trust,” said Laura in a depressed voice. She then leaned against a wall and began to sulk. “But it wasn’t your fault,” said Lucian, trying to cheer her up. “I told you not to tell anyone. You were just being a good friend,”

“Well Charlie doesn’t see it that way,” said Laura, whose mood did not improve in the slightest. Lucian frowned sincerely. It was clear his approach was no working.

“Oh don’t worry!” Lily chimed in. “She’ll forgive you eventually,”

“I’m not so sure about that. She thinks I wantonly put her life in danger, and perhaps she is right,”

“Well I wouldn’t fret about that,” Lily said smugly while giving Lucian a side-eye. “I have broken Lucian’s trust more times than I can recall! He always forgave me! If Charlie’s even half as much of an all-forgiving softie like my brother, she’ll forgive before the end of the night!”

Laura tried to hide her chuckles from Lucian. Even then, it was obvious. Lucian’s frown became less sincere when he saw Lily give him a smug smile. He sighed and tried not to take it personally. At least, it cheered up Laura.

Unfortunately, however, such feelings of happiness did not persist. For Lucian heard yet more footsteps. And his eyes widened when he looked behind Laura and onto the hallway, for he saw now saw both Willow and Charles walking towards them. But they seemed more upset than sad. Laura immediately saw them approach, and her expression once again soured. Lily narrowed her eyes nervously, for even she knew something bad was going to happen.

“Uh…Willow. I…” Lucian muttered nervously. But Laura immediately cut him off and gave Willow a look of fury. Willow replied with an equally disgusted look.

“You have a lot of nerve walking here,” said Laura.

“What? Why? I am not allowed to traverse a hallway now?” Willow remarked gesturing to the hallway.

“What do you want now? Haven’t you done enough already, you ease-dropping miscreant?”

Willow covered her mouth and sarcastically imitated an expression of shock, “Why you little…”

“Nothing!” Charles interrupted. He held Willow by the shoulder and stepped in front of her. “We just came here to get away from all the commotion. Joe did not take well to you just leaving like that,” he said looking at Lucian, who shrugged.

“I can see why, he’s probably made everyone think I’m a traitor by now. Yes?”

“Not really,” said Charles. “Bernstein’s arguing in your defense and the Venshires don’t seem too keen as to listen to Angelmore. After all, you gave us the newspaper and Laura helped open your father’s safe, you all can’t be any less trustworthy than the rest of us,”

“Well thank you,” said Lucian. He then looked over to Laura, who was staring at Willow with a deep, hateful gaze. Willow groaned impatiently and nudged Charles. “Well we better get going. You know we have somewhere else to be,”

Charles nodded at Willow. But as his sister dragged him along he also briefly nodded at both Laura and Lucian. Lucian nodded back but Laura didn’t notice. Willow stuck out her tongue at Laura before grinning maliciously, which made her fume furiously. She took out her hand and waved it in the air. Lucian saw one of the small decorative flower vases situated on one of the lobby tables containing a bundle of thorn-less white roses fling forwards into the air and come flying towards Willow. Willow’s grin disappeared as she saw the vase come flying towards her. She glanced at Lucian for a moment before closing her eyes and holding out her hands in a panic. Lucian then panicked as well. He then held out his hand next to Laura. As soon as he did, the vase came to a sudden halt less than a foot away from Willow’s head. A few moments later, Willow opened her eyes and found the vase floating silently in front of her. She sighed, and then looked at Lucian once again.

“Thank you, I knew you wouldn’t let me down!” she said with a smile before walking away again. But Laura wasn’t done. She gasped before looking at Lucian with an expression of betrayal. She then swiftly hit Lucian in the waist with her elbow before he had time to speak. Lucian was pushed to the side and almost fell over. But luckily Lily caught. But in the process of staggering to the side he had put down his hand. Immediately the floating vase once again began to shoot forwards towards Willow.

“No!” said Charles as he saw the vase move, he held his hand out between Willow and the vase. But he tripped over his own shoe and placed is hand too low. It collided with the bottom of the making it fly horizontally with the flowers facing Willow’s head. And as Willow turned her head back in order to react Lucian watched as her face was completely enveloped by the white roses. The force of the vase’s flight was so great that it propelled her towards the wall. Willow reached for the vase and tried to pull it away, Laura then put her hand down and let the vase fall onto Willow’s arms.

Once the vase fell Lucian noticed what it had done to Willow’s face. The roses were crushed and several petals had become stuck in her bush-like hair. Her face had several small patches of dark brown potting soil and some of it had even stained her collar. Charles looked at her with a mix of sympathy, shock and disgust. Willow looked at the vase in her hand before looking at Laura. Her expression a mix of various different emotions.

“Well now we’re settled,” Laura said coldly. “You soiled my name in front of all the others. And now I have soiled you!”

Lucian saw both Lily and Charles try and hide giggles of laughter. And frankly, he too found tried desperately to hide his own amusement. Willow dropped the vase on the ground where it made a light thud as it hit the floor, but didn’t break. She stared at Laura, but then it seemed her attention was diverted towards something else, her eyes moved back and forth as though she was thinking of something. She then simply sighed and said, “Fair enough,” before wiping the soil off her face and gesturing towards Charles. Together both of them then walked away without another word.

“Huh, and you say I’m petty” said Lily, who had witnessed everything that had just transpired.

“Never do that again!” said Laura turning to Lucian suddenly. Lucian took a step back, intimidated by Laura’s furious state. Laura then took a deep breath and sighed. “Well, what is done is done.  I suppose we have no other except to accept it. Hopefully Willow knows what she’s doing,”

“In hindsight, I think she’s right,” said Lucian. “If we all know the truth we can all work together,”

“But if what Mr. and Ms. Morrow saw is true, we might be in a trouble,” Lily interjected.

“Well, there’s no need to worry,” said Lucian calmly, “All of this only matters if what the Morrows saw comes to fruition. Which is unlikely!” he said for he did not want Lily to worry about the same thing he was dreading. But it was clear from Lily’s unconvinced expression that his reassurances had little effect.

“I think I need to go back,” said Laura, now calmer than she was before. “I owe Charlie an apology,”

“Well, hopefully she accepts it. She is your sister after all, she can’t stay angry at you forever,” said Lucian.

“Maybe that was the case with childish quarrels, but as Joe implies, this is life or death,”

“I would not pay attention to everything Joe says. Listen to him for long enough and you’ll eventually want to jump off a building,” said Lucian condescendingly, for he was still salty on the subject of Joe.

Laura laughed before walking away towards the lounge once more. She waved briefly waved at Lucian, and both Lucian and Lily waved back. But once she had disappeared into the depth of the hallway both their gazes feel on the fallen vase. Particularly on the mess of broken petals and soil around it. Both did not want to be the one to clean it up. And Lucian had an idea.

“Where did you say Luin was?”

“I told you I left him with the twins and all other small ones. Well, all except for little Oli Morrow, he wanted to be with his parents, why do you ask?” said Lily, her concentration fixated on the dirt stains on the floor.

“And where do you think he would take them?”

“Hmm, knowing him he probably took them to the library,” said Lily with a scoff.

“Good,” said Lucian with a light nod. He then tightened his collar. “Well, I have something to discuss with him. So I suggest you enjoy cleaning this up,” he then began to swiftly and silently walk away.

It took Lily a few moments to register Lucian’s words, “Wait, what?” she said initially, but then she came to the realization and shouted, “NO! Don’t you dare leave me with this mess!” but by the time she reached in to stop him Lucian had disappeared into another hallway.

Lucian lightly jogged his way to the library. He approached the familiar green and gold doors. And pushed them open. The sound of high-pitched laughter and screaming filled the air around him before he even took a step inside. The tall walls and the arched roof of the library amplified the sound. But among the playful sounds of childish delight was also the sound of annoyed grunting and pleading. Lucian walked towards the open area at the other end of the room and there he found Luin, running around frantically while chasing the twins. Lucian noticed that Luin was missing his glasses, and he found those glasses in Lucy’s hand.

“Give those back, you little thieves,” said Luin lunging towards them. But both Lidian and Lucy evaded him whilst passing the glasses between each other. Luin staggered back and forth, his vision impaired and his fury growing as the twins laughed at his face. Lucian laughed alongside his siblings. He then looked at the rest of the room. He saw that the table in the middle of the open area had been filled with books, and Elliott laid there on his knees reading them with utmost focus. On the other side of the table, he saw Grandfather Wren, sitting his usual chair facing the window. But this time Lucian saw him act rather lively. He then noticed Mabel Venshire and Morgan Bernstein both sitting and standing beside him, looking at him with fascination as he told them a story with more vigor than Lucian had seen in years.

“I told that lazy excuse of a spy that he was most scummy little runt I’d ever had the displeasure of meeting. Then I told him to go sod off like the rest of them! Safe to say my wife was not very pleased. She didn’t even give me any of our shared whiskey that night,” he said gesturing with his hands as the young ones watched in awe with their mouths open.

Finally, Luin seemed to notice Lucian standing next to them. He narrowed his eyes in his direction. “Is that you, Lu?”

“Yes, it is I” said Lucian. “And by the looks of things you seem to be having a bit of problem. The twins then ran over to him and hid behind his back, giggling manically. Luin stood in front of Lucian clawing the air as the twins ran from one side of Lucian’s back to the other.

“YES I DO,” said Luin furiously. “These two frustrating little delinquents won’t give me my glasses back!”

“Well you’re always so pompously over-confident, so why don’t you just take them!” Lucy shouted whist waving the glasses in the air. Luin lunged in her direction but she simply disappeared behind Lucian and evaded him, passing the glasses to Lidian. Luin groan in anger, “Oh gosh damn you both!”

Lucian pitied Luin. Hence, he decided to help. He quickly grabbed Lidian by the collar and grabbed his hand while he was waving the glasses next to his head. Lidian looked at Lucian with surprise, “Lu! What are you doing?”

“Fun’s over, Lid,” Lucian said plainly, “I think you’ve punished your cousin for long enough. Besides, you don’t want him to tell father, do you?”

Lidian went silent. “Alright!” he said letting go of the glasses. Lucian handed them over to Luin, who polished them with his waistcoat before putting them on. He then frowned at the twins. “Shame, he looked like he could use more punishment,” said Lucy.

“No, no. I think you both have done enough,” said Lucian. Lucy and Lidian both stuck their tongues out at Luin before walking away together, searching for something else to do.

“For your information, I could’ve taken more punishment,” said Luin walking back to the table. He then took a seat next to Elliott. “Besides, all this noise was disturbing Elli,” he said whilst looking at the same book alongside Elliott.

“I see you two have gotten along, how surprising,”

“Well I like to think of Elli as my protégé, he’s one of the only people here who has any taste!”

“Well aside from that…” said Lucian who did not want to go off the topic he wished to discuss. “I came here to ask you about that letter,”

Luin blinked several times, confused. His attention still focused on whatever Elliott was reading. “What letter?”

Lucian sighed. “The one we got from my father’s study, remember?”

“Oh that letter!” he exclaimed. “Well I haven’t been able to solve it yet, if that was what you were hoping for,”

“Well why haven’t you? Aren’t the great scholarly know-it-all?”

“Well that’s not exactly high praise coming from you, is it? And even then, solving a code like this isn’t that simple!”

“Well how hard can it be?” asked Lucian, but he meant that as a rhetorical question. Moreover, it had the intended effect of making Luin lose his temper. For he grumbled and reached into his waistcoat where he pulled out a piece of paper, he then showed it to Lucian who knew it to be the code they had copied off his father’s letter.

“You see here,” he said angrily. “This appears to be a simple substitution. Just one symbol for another. But unfortunately, the problem here are the variations,”

“Variations?” asked Lucian, to which Luin nodded. “Of all the codes I’ve read about they always have variations. And looking at this I suspect there are at least twenty five different variations of this,”

“Twenty five?” asked Lucian in shock. “Yes, one for each shift of a letter,”

“Well how long will it take for you to solve it?”

“Hours at the minimum, I still need to figure out how each letter is depicted,” said Luin.

In all honesty, Lucian was not too surprised. Even his parents seemed to have trouble finding an answer so the fact that Luin was finding it difficult was not a shock to him. But yet part of him still had confidence in Luin. However, before he could say anything else. He heard a sounds coming from the other side of the room.

“You two! Over there!” he suddenly heard Grandfather Wren shout. Surprising even Morgan and Mabel. He was pointing his cane at piece of paper that Luin was holding out in the open. Both Lucian and Luin exchanged confused glances.

“Yes, Grandfather?” Lucian asked. He then took the piece of paper and approached him.

“Where did you two youths get your hands on this?” he asked strictly before snapping the paper away from Lucian. He once again looked back and exchanged confused glances with Luin. He then got an idea and turned to his grandfather. “Do you recognize it?”

“Of course I do!” he exclaimed. “What sort of Baron would I be if I didn’t know such trivial things?”

Lucian went silent for a moment, “So…can you read it?”

“Well…no,” said Wren looking at the paper, both Lucian and Luin frowned with disappointment. “It seems that most of this has slipped from my mind. Although I do recognize some things,” said Wren, who couldn’t seem to grasp his own inability to decipher the code.

“What things?” Lucian inquired further, hoping to get something out of this. Wren then pointed to a series of letter and numbers on the paper, characters that read ‘G1G3B2E2D1E3’. “This one,” he said. “I know this word, it’s ‘Guilds’. Yes, I’d recognize that word anywhere,”

“Guilds?” Lucian thought to himself, unable to understand how such a word fit in with the message. Then Wren started telling a story. “You know we had an incident with the Guilds a while back. One of those traitorous little wretches ratted out the Evertons to the Order. Oh, that poor, poor boy Ulysses. Those imbeciles were lucky we didn’t dissolve them all then and there!”

Lucian listened intently to what Wren was saying. But his tale was cut short when Luin walked over and snapped the paper away from Wren. Their grandfather stared at him with a look of disbelief. “Well it seems we’re getting off subject again,” Luin said before making his way back to his side of the table.

Lucian was about to join him when he felt Wren grab the sleeve of his coat. “Who are you, boy?” he asked with narrow eyes. “I’m Lucian, your grandson,” Lucian said kindly and honestly. Wren smiled and almost began to laugh. “Well, young lad. I admit you are quite funny indeed. How can I have a grandson when neither of my sons are even married?”

Lucian saw Morgan and Mabel stare at him with awkward silence. He saw Luin roll his eyes. However, he didn’t care. He simply looked at his grandfather sympathetically before walking away quietly. Wren frowned for a moment, but then returned his attention back to Morgan and Mabel. As though his conversation with Lucian had never happened.

“I still don’t see why you try. You know he’ll never accept it,” said Luin.

“It was worth a try, maybe one of these days…,” said Lucian optimistically.

“Well at least we know one word now. This should make it easier to solve,” said Luin rubbing his forehead while staring at the paper. “Make sure you solve before the others leave. We may not have time to use whatever message we receive by then,” said Lucian, the possibilities of future events played in his head. His worries always drove these hypothetical scenarios to their worst conclusions.

“Why is that?” asked Luin. “Believe me, it is better if you didn’t know,” said Lucian bluntly. Luin seemed to have gotten the hint, for he simply shrugged and went back to studying the paper.

“Well can you at least take these puny scoundrels off my hands; it would make me work faster,”

Lucian grinned, “No, I think you’re working fast enough. Besides, there is somewhere I need to be,”

Luin raised his eyebrow at Lucian. But Lucian just turned away and walked out of the Library, leaving Luin with the small ones. He saw the twins rummaging through a nearby bookcase on his way out, making a small fort out of thick tomes. He dared not disturb them. He closed the Library doors behind him as he went. Afterwards he went back to the lobby where the staircase was located. Once he got there, he found it completely empty. Lily as seemingly left after cleaning the vase from earlier. Lucian took a seat in a nearby table and rested. He wasn’t sure whether it was too soon to do what he was about to do. Therefore, he simply rested for a few minutes. Enjoying the quiet of the lobby for a few minutes. He took a few deep breaths and reclined on this cushioned chair. Then, once his mind had been calmed and a few minutes had passed, he once again got up from his chair and made his way to the lounge again. As he walked down the hallway he expected to hear muffled shouting, bust strangely the entire room seemed to have become silent. He hesitantly placed his hand on the doorknob before taking a deep breath and swinging open the door. He closed his eyes and stepped into the room. But weirdly, he heard no voices. He opened his eyes and realized the room was almost completely empty. With the only occupant being Benjamin, who sat reclined on one of the sofas with his raven Maurice perched on one of his hands.

“Oh, hello there! Didn’t think you’d come back,” said Benjamin rubbing Maurice’s head.

“Where is everyone?” asked Lucian.

“Oh they all left, it seems that no one could stand each other after that argument we all had,” said Benjamin.

“Then why are you here?”

“Figured I’d stay, at least I get to spend some time with Maurice before I have to put him back into his cage,” said Benjamin scratching the raven below the neck. Maurice gave a loud caw the moment Benjamin referred to the cage. Benjamin looked at it sympathetically, “Well I know you don’t like it, but I can’t keep you outside either,” he said as though he were explaining something to an actual person. Lucian meanwhile couldn’t look at Maurice without being viscerally disgusted. Maurice seemed to notice this. It turned its head to Lucian before cawing loudly and flaring its wings. Its cry was so loud it made Lucian jump and it made Benjamin raise an eyebrow.

“Well Maurice wants to tell you that he doesn’t like the way you’re looking at him. He doesn’t like you in general it seems,”

“Birds tend to think that about me,” said Lucian, remembering how Lira’s raven also despised him.

“Well at least it’s not as bad as the Hatlys,” said Benjamin.

“What you mean?” asked Lucian curiously. Benjamin winced. “Well Laura tried to apologize to Charlotte; it did not go over well,”

“Well what happened?” asked Lucia now more invested than ever. “Well…Let me just say that was not where the argument ended. Charlotte seems to have drifted over to Joe’s side of the field. Along with the Mornings,”

“What about you?” asked Lucian, taking a seat in a sofa that was perpendicular to Benjamin’s. Benjamin sighed and did not look Lucian in the eye. He then shrugged. “I don’t know. I simply don’t know. You do not seem like a traitor to me,”

“That’s what Charles said,” said Lucian. Benjamin paused for a moment. He then tilted his head and looked at him compassionately.

“You know I will always stand beside you, right? I’ve been standing beside you since…”

“Since that day on the bridge. Yes, I know” said Lucian. There was an awkward silence as Lucian recalled that day, that fateful day in the Baronies that happened all those years ago. The memory had slightly faded, but he remembered standing there, on an ancient stone bridge in the middle of the countryside, watching in horror as Joseph fought for life in the river below. He did not remember how it happened, but he was still feeling the consequences of it.

Maurice the raven leaned on Benjamin’s lap and cooed affectionately. Lucian smiled. Benjamin smiled back. In that moment, Lucian’s mind shone with the glimmer of hope. Despite all the things that had transpired in the past few hours, despite all the worries that plagued him, despite the visions of oncoming doom and death that played in his head, that glimmer of hope persisted.

He thought to himself, “Perhaps we might be alright after all.”

Back to Content- HERE

[sinners-if]

I’m super into fashion and all this talk is super exciting n thought provoking. Considering Grey’s personality, wealth, and the setting… I’d imagine they’d wear something formal or semi formal most days. Blends in w the city better and shows class and their wealth

Probably nothing designer, loud pieces and flashy logos draw too much attention and can be tacky. Maybe old money. Dress shirts and pants you could never guess were made by hand in some foreign European country. Rings with few jewels but impactful in a fist fight. Maybe a necklace or antique watch that while minimal, an expert might be able to recognize a gem or two from some stolen artifact that’s still missing…

If they’re going casual maybe a flowy, loose shirt tucked into waist high pants- swap it out for a fitted turtleneck and necklace in the autumn or winter. Maybe a parka and slimmer pants if it snows or rains.

Everything would most likely be tailored- some trusted source Grey has to both fix their clothing but also dry clean it in case of any messes.

Color wise I think Grey would go for neutrals, white, grey, black, light and dark browns, beige as well. Maybe a pop of color here and there for emphasis but patterns and textures kept to a minimal so they don’t clash. Most color use outside of emphasis are less saturated and more natural so it’d go well w beiges and white.

Depending on the warm/coolness of their skin tone, they might go for white gold or gold for warmer tones and maybe silver and platinum for cooler tones.

Maybe they’d even wear thin metal framed glasses 🤔 … there’s no real thought behind tbh- I just like glasses

(Sorry for the long rant I’m just very enthused😔)

No, don't apologize I really loved the details. You're absolutely correct, they can't get too crazy with fashion purely for the sake of blending in and mobility, but academia makes perfect sense for default!Grey.

RINGS. AESTHETIC. Thats it. That's all I have to say.

[bdbriggs]

Two Truths and a Lie - FAHC

(holy shit guys I wrote a Fake AH Crew fic for the first time since 2020) It was always going to end this way.

The end is the true beginning.

It begins with a card.

 Two truths and a lie. The lie is not the one you expect.

Michael idly flips the card between his fingers. It’s a pretty thing, creamy white with golden script, bright white lace-like designs sprawling across the length of it. Two words on one side: be there. An address, date, and time on the other. What Michael should do is throw the card out and pretend he never saw it, pretend that it got lost in the copious junk mail that plagues his apartment mailbox. He should stay on the far, far side of town on that day and time, avoid sticking his nose into whatever is going on. He should expect that it’s a trap, a setup, a bad fuckin’ idea.

He should do a lot of things. Curiosity and cats, and all that, but here’s the thing; nobody ever remembers the end of that saying. Curiosity killed the cat, yes, but satisfaction brought it back.

Sue him. He’s curious.

And why shouldn’t he be? An inconspicuous little business card lands on his welcome mat. Solicitors leave pamphlets and business cards and shit by his door all the time—this one shouldn’t be special. The golden script, though. That makes him pause. Makes him consider. Makes him weigh his options carefully.

And in the end, there’s really only one thing to do.

See, gold is a recurring theme in Los Santos. It’s nothing out of the ordinary considering the millionaires, billionaires, movie stars, models, gold diggers, yada yada—the city is full of rich folks and folks wanting to be rich. Every third guy on the street has a gold watch. Every other lady has something gold—a ring, a necklace, whatever. Movie stars and gang leaders and girls dressed to the nines—they’re all flaunting golden jewelry, exotic cars, fancy clothes.

So why, then, did the color gold become such a tell in the city’s underground?

Michael can’t pinpoint the moment it started. Spray paint, metal plating, smoke, and ink. Something dripping gold sunk its fingers into the city in a way Michael’s never seen before. And while he hasn’t been in Los Santos overly long, he can tell you it’s not the norm. It wasn’t like this in Liberty City or in Jersey, certainly, and it wasn’t like this when he first arrived in LS. The city was gritty. Grey. The pollution is so thick you can feel it between your teeth, like grit after a fight or soot from an explosion. The cement buildings are grey, grey like the fog over the ocean, like the bleak alleyways and bleaker lives of the average people who live here. The first touch of gold was like a breath of fresh air in comparison.

Something stirs in the city of saints, and Michael wants to be there when it wakes.

 Jack’s cleaning up shop when she sees it. A little white business card, fluttering in the cool breeze provided by one of three fans she’s got spread in her garage. Every time there’s a heat wave, power cuts out in her neighborhood. There’s little to do besides power up the generator, grab a beer, and settle down to work on her cars. Machines are easy. People, less so. It’s for this reason Jack owns a garage—people drive cars, sure, but they don’t pay her to talk. They pay her to fix.

It’s odd, then, when this little white card flutters towards her, skipping along the floor with a bounce in its step that Jack hasn’t seen in years. This city has a way of beating people down. Even the lucky ones like her have fallen on rough times, and the golden script on the card is therefore what catches her attention.

Four words: I have an idea. A location, date, and time on the other side. Jack considers the card carefully before slipping it in the pocket of her shorts.

It’s a bad idea, is what it is. There’s no reason she should go looking for trouble. Times are hard, even for the lucky ones like her. But the gold script gives her pause.

There’s been a shift in the city, these last few years. Jack has lived here long enough to have felt it. It’s no different than a little rolling earthquake; the rolling sensation means it’s far away, but it shifts the ground and everything on top of it. Sometimes things fall, and sometimes the walls or pavement crack, but life goes on around the reminders of that little split-second event.

The evidence remains, however. Something has settled into the city, cracking the pavement and the walls, and slowly the cracks have filled with gold. Kintsugi, it’s called, the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold. Few people would look at the withered and broken city of saints and deem it worthy of repair, but something has. Gold slithers into the city like snakes, and it leaves its mark on things. An influx of exotic cars. Looser lips at the bar by the racetrack. The wealthy place bets like never before, on cars, on racers, and Jack notices.

If she has a chance to see where all this gold is coming from—why shouldn’t she?

 Jeremy’s lip curls up into a snarl when a waitress brings them a drink with a business card underneath it. She’s already disappeared back into the throng of the club, or they would have called her out on it. Jeremy lifts their beer in one hand and flicks the business card with the other, watching as it twirls away with a flash of gold.

Wait.

Jeremy reaches out with the toe of one boot and slides it back to their chair, picking it up carefully and quickly. The card itself is white with lacy designs spread across it. On one side is a time and location. The other side reads, Nice job out there =) Bored yet?

It draws an honest-to-god snort out of Jeremy. They take a sip from their beer and tuck the card in their pocket.

Not many people know what Jeremy does. Rimmy Tim is a fair bit different from Jeremy, with the wild getup and crazy colors and loud vehicles. Rimmy Tim just finished a job up in Sandy Shores, their fists deployed against a handful of rednecks with guns and drugs. Jeremy, on the other hand, because that’s who they are tonight—Jeremy has a job as a pizza delivery person and two clueless roommates they’re lucky enough to count as friends.

So who in the world figured out that Jeremy is Rimmy Tim, and vice versa?

It should be upsetting. It is, to a degree, but not in the way Jeremy would expect. Whoever sent the business card clearly wants something. The location and time are evidence of that. And Rimmy Tim just had a spectacular time with a drug bust. It’s more than likely that whoever is behind this wants their particular skillset. But why approach Jeremy, when Rimmy Tim is plenty easy to find on the frequent jobs they take? Why go through the effort?

The gold inscription on the card calls to mind a particular golden gun. Rimmy Tim has only seen it a few times, and never the person wielding it. It’s small. Silenced. And the hands holding it never miss a shot. The golden gun means a swift end to whatever opposes it, and not in the way that a bullet means death. No; that golden gun stops gang wars in their tracks, assassinates the most corrupt politicians, brings genuine fear into the eyes of the LSPD.

Jeremy sips their beer and steadies themself. Whoever is behind that golden gun is worth standing beside. Things in Los Santos are about to get interesting.

 Trevor stares slack-jawed at the wallet in his hands. He’s got half a mind to chuck it off the pier and into the waves below, because it’s way too good to be true. Muggings don’t usually score him one thousand dollars. Either his unfortunate victim was loaded, or this is a setup. He shuffles through the bills quickly, and ah-ha! There’s a little white business card nestled between them.

Want more? It says in smooth golden script. The other side simply lists an address along with a date and time.

Trevor definitely should throw the wallet off the pier. He does, upon further consideration, but only after tucking the bills and card into his pocket. He may be an idiot, but he isn’t stupid enough to pass up what appear to be ten real hundred-dollar bills. After a quick scan of his surroundings, Trevor steps back into the crowds and blends right in. His victim is a quarter mile up the beach, and the LSPD have already given up their search for the mugger. Unfortunate, really.

Could his so-called victim have been the person behind the gold and white card? He wasn’t anything special looking. Messy brown hair so light it bordered on dark blonde, expensive sunglasses, nice clothes. One of Los Santos’ elite, or more likely the kid of one of Los Santos’ elite. Some rich shmuck with more money than sense who poked his nose where it didn’t belong. At least, that’s what Trevor understood from looking at the guy, and his intuition is rarely wrong. See, Trevor’s good at figuring people out. He’s good at finding what makes them tick, at learning how they move and act, and he’s even better at using that knowledge against them. Muggings are easy, then; give him a target, and he can have them all figured out after a few hours of observation. This guy was no different.

So why, then, is Trevor so unnerved by the presence of a little white business card?

The golden script gets his brain going. He pulls out the card again and turns it over and over in his hands, studying it. It’s high quality. The golden text is actually engraved into the creamy white paper, and a textured finish has been added overtop the card in a pattern akin to lace. Someone spent a pretty penny to make this card.

Someone with more money than sense.

Trevor considers this. Considers the fact that this job was a setup, and not an ordinary mugging. His judgement of character is rarely wrong—but perhaps he saw what was meant to be seen, and not what was truly there.

He smiles and whistles as he walks back to his apartment. It’s not the end of the world; he’ll just have to get a second look. And he has a convenient little card that gives him such an opportunity.

 Matt is going to scream.

Something’s wrong with his tech. And that’s decidedly not normal. He’s built eighty percent of this stuff himself. He knows his computers and his network better than the back of his hand. Nothing should ever go wrong with it to the point he can’t fix it.

Matt curses under his breath and locks his door. His roommates are home and he’d really rather not have them barge into his, uhm, gaming setup while shit’s going haywire. His lights turn off suddenly, plunging the room into darkness. Matt flicks the switch on and off a few times—no power. And it’s odd, too, because he can hear Jeremy and Trevor playing a video game in the living room. The apartment itself still has power.

It’s just Matt’s setup that doesn’t.

The thought sends an icy chill down his spine. He’s compromised. Someone found his location and managed to out-hack the hacker. Names and faces flit through his mind along with hastily cobbled-together escape plans. Who could have figured him out? Honestly, the weakest links in the chain are his roommates, but he’s been so careful and neither Jeremy nor Trevor have seemed off lately. And they’re perfectly fine in the next room, arguing loudly over Halo.

So who…?

Without warning, the printer comes to life with a godawful clattering sound. Matt shrieks and whirls around to face the offending machine. Fuck, he needs a new printer. If that thing made his whole goddamn side of the apartment short out…

But no, it appears someone is fucking with him after all. The printer happily slops ink on the fake ID he’d been in the middle of designing, spitting the card out with a horrid rattling scream. Matt picks the card up with shaky fingers and flinches when the lights flick on again, allowing him to read what’s been printed.

Lovely little place, it reads in golden ink. The other side lists a day and location.

The computer flickers back to life along with the rest of Matt’s tech. All of his screens should be displaying CCTV footage, but each individual camera’s footage has been replaced with a stylized sunglasses emoji, gold lines stark against a black backdrop.

Matt sits down at his desk and smiles sharply at the screens. Game on, motherfucker.

 Jack scouts the area from her Entity. It’s a nondescript little building up the Great Ocean Highway, well outside of town. She pulls into the nearby gas station at sunset, buys a soda and some snacks, and settles in for a stakeout. She doesn’t plan to go in, but she plans to see who does. She’s got a gun in each of her thigh holsters, a full tank of gas, and a pair of sharp eyes that miss nothing.

The sun sinks below the waves and casts a lovely pink hue across the sky. The light fades slowly to purple, then grey, then the inky blue of night. Stars wink into existence. The time stamped on the white business card in golden script fast approaches, and one man approaches the building across the highway on foot.

 Michael eyes the run-down building by the side of the highway as he approaches. It’s old and worn and grey, and from the looks of it, nobody’s been living or working there for a long while. The windows that aren’t boarded up have been shattered. Headlights from the highway illuminate a sea of glass on the concrete foundation. The back corner of the building is nearty tucked into the hillside with a high concrete wall with thick barbed wire warding off any attempts at break-ins. He can’t see inside, but Michael would bet money that there’s no easy way into that back corner from the inside, either.

And Michael has never been the lockpick kind of guy.

He hefts his rocket launcher with a grin, aims, and fires.

 Matt’s in.

Despite being abandoned for twelve years and eight months, someone has kept a CCTV camera running in a little decrepit building on the coast. The building itself used to belong to some loan servicing company that went out of business. Everything useful seems to have been stolen from the building, according to LSPD reports responding to break-ins. Except—Matt found plans, blueprints for a room in the back of the building. It has no entryway.

Seems like someone had something to hide.

Matt watches the camera like a hawk for days leading up to the date printed on the card. Nothing changes until five minutes prior to the printed time, when an explosion rocks the building and debris tumbles down the hallway. Through the opening provided, a solitary figure slips inside.

 Trevor slinks through the shadows and into the previously sealed room. Someone had blown it open from the far side, causing the rest of the wall to cave in. It allows Trevor to get inside easily. The explosion was a surprise, yes, but Trevor knew there was a possibility of others being here, of this being another part in the setup he’s allowed himself to walk into. The thousand bucks he got the other day will keep him and his roommates fed for several months, easy, but if there’s more…

Well. Trevor knows people. And he knows how to keep them away from his score. Whoever fired the rocket will wait for a response before entering. The woman staking out the place at the gas station has a loud car that he’ll hear long before it approaches his position. And the buff guy with the gun and parachute backpack crouched high on the hillside above will have to get past both of them in order to get down here. Unless—unless they’re teamed up. Shit.

A thump on the roof has Trevor regretting every decision that led him here. He pulls out his pistol and backs himself into a corner, surveying the room around him. Nothing stands out, no briefcase, no vault, no treasure. Nothing to hide behind. He grits his teeth and flicks off the safety.

 Jeremy’s pretty sure they’ve got about thirty seconds before the guy with the rocket launcher reaches the building. So, they do the most stupid thing and jump in ahead of him, hoping to secure whatever’s in the sealed room and make a stand inside. Maybe not the brightest idea when they’re up against a rocket launcher, but they’re banking on the hope that rocket-launcher-guy wants this score as badly as they do. Jeremy dives into the room and eats a bullet with their vest.

“Oh, ass!” Jeremy shrieks. They scramble further into the room, away from rocket-launcher-guy, only to roll out of the way of a second shot. Fuck, oh fuck, the gunman is inside the room!

An engine roars. Heavy footfalls in the rubble outside draw closer, closer, and Jeremy swallows thickly. Rocket-launcher-guy comes into view with his own gun in hand, and while it briefly points at Jeremy, it quickly trains on the gunman further in the room.

Fuck. Jeremy whips out their own pistol and points it at the gunman, wincing at the realization that a CCTV camera is pointed directly at the commotion. Not only that, but there are more footsteps making their way through the building.

Oh, they are so fucked.

 Jack’s glad she brought multiple guns. She trains one on the tall and thin gunman in the corner of the room, and one on the garishly colored guy crouched in the rubble to her right. The man who’d blown the building open snarls at her, and aww, isn’t that cute?

“What the fuck is going on here?” Jack demands. “What’s the big idea?”

The gunman in the corner shrinks in on himself. Poor guy has three guns trained on him at the moment. Jack doesn’t envy him.

“Fuck!” the guy blurts. “I came for the score! Jesus Christ, you guys can have it!”

The gunman to Jack’s right freezes. “I’m sorry, Trevor?!”

Trevor, if that’s his name, points his gun at the walking fashion disaster. “Jeremy?” he demands.

As if by some unspoken agreement, both of them move. Trevor points his gun at Jack; Jeremy points their gun at rocket-launcher-guy.

“Dude,” rocket-launcher-guy says. “Which of you told me to be here? This is confusing as fuck.”

Nobody answers.

Rocket-launcher-guy does a double take. “Wait, seriously? Then who the fuck was it?”

“Wasn’t me,” Jeremy says. “But I bet you it’s whoever is watching through the CCTV camera.”

Jack looks over her shoulder and, sure enough, there’s a camera pointed right at them. Shit.

“Nope,” a distorted male voice says through whatever shitty intercom system was left in the building. “I also would like to know what the hell is going on.”

Jack lowers her guns. “Did none of you send the business card?”

Rocket-launcher-guy lowers his own gun and fishes a white card out of his jacket pocket. “Not me,” he says.

Jeremy and Trevor lower their guns and pull out their own white cards.

“I got one, too,” the guy on the intercom says. “Someone used my printer to print it out.”

Jack holsters her guns and frowns. “What was the score, anyways?”

Trevor shrugs. “I dunno,” he admits. “I mugged a guy with a grand in his wallet, plus the card. I figured there’d be money in this place.”

Jack fishes out her own card and shows it to them. “That’s not what mine said.”

Rocket-launcher-guy crosses his arms. “So there’s nothing here? Well, that fuckin’ blows.”

“Aww, Michael,” a new voice coos. Jack whirls around and has both guns up and aimed at the newcomer before he can blink. “I wouldn’t say there’s nothing.”

Jack hears the sounds of guns being raised behind her, but the newcomer seems completely unintimidated. He leans back against the wall of the hallway, arms crossed loosely over his chest, smirk on his face. He’s got messy brown hair, a blue dress shirt, jeans, and sneakers. He’d look completely uninteresting if not for the golden sunglasses, the golden gun holstered at his hip, the golden watch on one wrist.

“You’re the guy I mugged,” Trevor says. “Who the hell are you? And what do you want?”

The golden boy grins. “I had this idea,” he says. “There’s this lovely little place that’s never successfully been broken into. I’ve robbed every other bank in the city. I’m bored. I want more. And I need a crew if I’m going to pull this off.” His grin turns sharp, menacing. “Will you be there?”

 Los Santos has a way of beating even the most stubborn and resilient of its citizens down. It’s easy to get lost in the grit and grey of the city, what with the pollution and fog and bleak concrete everywhere you look. But something, someone, looked at the city and saw an opportunity. A fresh start.

The end is the true beginning. And it was always going to end this way.

 The true beginning, then, was not with the card.

[bibibinnie]

im lost | [ tattoos ch. 7 ]

✧ synopsis. yeonjun takes indigo out dancing for her birthday. read previous chapter here. all chapters here. ✧ pairing. idol!yeonjun x indigo [oc - read about her here] ✧ genre. fluff, slice of life, third person pov ✧ words. 3.9K ✧ cw. swearing, drinking alcohol, creeps at a club (a man touches indigo without her consent, but nothing too intense), sad drunk!indigo, yj kisses a stranger at a club, fake dating, pet names (babe), eating, indigo is bisexual and in a relationship with a woman who's implied to be controlling. ✧ notes. cutie chapter imo

𖦹 June 22, 2021 | 8:56 PM 𖦹

“Come on, it’s your birthday! You gotta do something,” Yeonjun says, shaking Indigo's knee.

“No, I don’t,” she turns over, pulling a pillow over her head.

“You can either sit here eating room service all night, watching,” he looks over at the TV, “whatever this is. Or you can have some fun.”

“Eating room service and watching movies isn’t fun?” She asks, muffled by the pillow.

“Not as fun as going out dancing with me,” he says pridefully. “Come on, Indi. I promise you’ll have fun.” He sits next to her. “Come on, come on, come on,” he says, poking her back.

She sits up, narrowing her eyes at him and asks, “What if I don’t have fun?”

“What if you do?”

“Fine, jeez,” she rolls her eyes, pushing herself off the mattress, opening the closet. Holding two dresses in front of her, she asks, “Which one?” 

“Hm…the green one.”

“Okay, give me, like, fifteen minutes,” she says, closing the door to the bathroom. Meanwhile, Yeonjun silently tries to convince himself he’s not nervous, using the movie on her TV as a distraction. 

“Indi,” he calls out. “Your phone is ringing.” She opens the door slightly, asking who’s calling. “Um,” he reaches for the phone on her nightstand. “Hannah.”

“Oh, okay. You can just let it go to voicemail.” She shrugs.

Walking out of the bathroom a little over fifteen minutes later, he watches her adjust her sock. She turns toward the full-length mirror hanging on the wall, looking over her ensemble, smoothing over the deep green silk dress that falls just below her knees. Gold earrings dangle from her ears, a gold necklace around her neck.

“Okay, I guess I’m ready,” she sighs, crossing her arms and looking down at her Vans. “And I’m not wearing heels.” He turns, resting his feet on the floor, looking her up and down. “Yeonjun?”

“Huh?” Not wanting to make his feelings too obvious, he diverts his eyes, forcing himself to not stare at how gorgeous she looks.

“You ready?” She chuckles, fixing her hair one last time as he hums.

-

“Ah, there you are,” Indigo says, pulling Yeonjun into a hug, whispering, “pretend like we’re together.” He looks at her questioningly as they pull apart. “My boyfriend’s here now, so…” she smiles awkwardly at a man sitting next to her at the bar. “What took you so long, babe?”

“Don’t worry, I kept her company,” the guy says, reaching for her knee, but she jerks it away from him, glaring at Yeonjun.

Bending to meet her ear, Yeonjun whispers, “Why don’t you go find another seat?”

“He follows me. And I’m waiting for our drinks.” He nods, wrapping an arm around her waist. The guy next to her slurs something, but she can’t make out what it was. Reaching for the front of Yeonjun’s shirt, she pulls him so he stands between the two of them.

“How long ago did you order these drinks?” He asks.

“I dunno, ten minutes ago? I guess they’re super backed up,” she says, looking at the crowd of people. “I didn’t know what you wanted, so I got you a beer. You have my phone or I would’ve texted you.”

“Oh, here,” he says, reaching in his pocket.

“No, keep it. I don’t have pockets and you’re here now.” She turns, resting her chin in her palm. “Ah, here they are,” she smiles, reaching for the glasses from the bartender.

“Did he bother you too much?”

She shakes her head while she takes a sip. “I can usually handle it, but he was just…persistent,” she says, keeping her voice low.

“That’s your drink?” He laughs, tilting his head toward her scotch on the rocks.

“Yeah, so?” She shrugs. 

“You said you don’t drink very much, so I thought you’d get something a little softer.”

She giggles, but her smile fades when the guy moves to the other side of her seat. “See?” She glares at Yeonjun.

“It’s okay,” he says, pressing his hand to her lower back to push her closer to him.

“Do something else boyfriend-y so it gets the point across again.” 

Tucking some of her hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing her ear, making both of them worried the other heard their heartbeats. “He keeps touching my ass,” she scream-whispers. He takes a deep breath, fiddling with the cuff of his shirt. 

“Let’s just finish our drinks and go dance.”

-

This isn’t something she’s used to. Performing on a stage alone and dancing with someone—but not with someone—are two very different things. Luckily, her drink made her feel at ease just enough to be dancing comfortably with him.

Their movements are lighthearted and fun while they keep up with conversation and laugh together. Indigo rolls her eyes, frowns, and says, “Goddamnit. That guy’s behind you now. Switch places with me and keep an eye on him.” She nudges his shoulder with her elbow. “I guess your acting is slacking.”

He tilts his head to the side. “What does that mean?”

“You don’t look enough like my boyfriend.” He swallows, looking down at his feet. “You barely even look like you like me.” She laughs.

“What am I supposed to do?” He asks.

“Oh, come on,” she starts. “You’ve never danced with a woman at a club before?” 

“Wait a minute,” he crosses his arms, looking around the room. “Where am I? Who are you?” 

“Ah, you know what I mean.” She chuckles. “Just act like you’re on a date.”

Holding her hand, he spins her around, pulling her close to him, his thigh barely pressing against her pelvis. Her arms wrap around his shoulders, one of his hands resting on her upper arm, the other at the lowest part of her back.

Leaning closer to her, his cheek grazes hers and he whispers, “Do you just wanna leave?”

“What? No, I’m not letting some creep ruin my birthday.” She shakes her head. “That’s called giving into the man, Yeonjun. I’m not doing that,” she glares at him. 

He looks down at the ground again, suddenly aware of their closeness and says, “I’m sorry I made you come out with me.”

“What do you mean?” She backs off slightly.

“I just feel like you aren’t having any fun.” He shrugs. “I feel bad.”

“Don’t.” She smiles. “I am having fun,” she says, hoping that he can’t see the color of her cheeks under the pink and purple lights. “Thanks for dragging me out of my hotel room.”

He smirks at her. “Thanks for wearing that dress.”

“Yeonjun!” She giggles, playfully hitting his shoulder. 

“What?” He laughs. “I’m supposed to act like I’m on a date, right? That’s what I would say.” 

She glares at him, one corner of her lips upturned. “I kinda like this Yeonjun-on-a-date experience.”

“Sounds like someone’s got a crush on me.”

“What if I did?” She sticks her nose up at him.

“Eh, that wouldn’t be so bad. I’ve had worse.”

“Wow,” she rolls her eyes. “I could get anyone in here I wanted to.”

“Yeah, right.” He smirks. Her mouth drops open and her eyes widen, scrunching her nose. “No, I just mean, there’s no way you can walk up to a stranger and hit on them. You never talk to strangers.”

She looks around the club, notices the creepy guy from earlier leaving out the front door and pushes herself off Yeonjun. “Fine,” she says, walking to another guy sitting at the bar. 

He watches her lean against the counter, graze this guy’s shoulder with her hand, bite her lip, buy one drink for him and another for herself—she even takes him out to the dance floor. 

Staring them down, Yeonjun leans back against the wall, watching him run his hands all over her, the way she smiled back at him when he whispered in her ear, probably about what he wants to do to her later.

Attempting to swallow back the heartbeat in his throat, his hands get sweaty. He has to hold himself back from going over there and dragging her away from him.

As the song finally ends, Indigo pulls away from the guy while he smiles and nods, walking back to the bar. Pushing himself off the wall, he strides over to her with his hands shoved in his pockets. Crossing one arm over the other, she finishes her drink in one gulp, smirking and raising her eyebrows at him.

“See?” She giggles. He reluctantly nods at her, their stare lingering a bit longer than either of them intended. 

He clears his throat, “I could pick someone up too, you know.”

“Do it then. I’ll go have another drink,” she says.

After ordering her third drink of the night, she turns in her barstool, resting against the counter, subduedly scanning across the crowd before her eyes land on him and another woman. 

She watches him make her laugh and blush while her hand presses his chest and slides up, resting on his shoulder. Meanwhile, he rubs her arm with his hand, pulling her closer to him with his other. 

After several tries, the bartender finally gets Indigo’s attention long enough to hand her a scotch, this time neat. Turning back around, her attention returns to Yeonjun and a stranger dancing together while she drinks alone. He takes her hand and spins her around, pulling her close, his hands roaming her arms and back. 

It takes Indigo a second to realize she already knows what that feels like.

Sliding his hand down the woman’s back, he slips his fingertips into her back pocket, barely squeezing her. Indigo’s eyes raise and her head cocks to the side, downing the rest of her drink in one gulp. Soon after, she turns around and orders another one. 

Watching them get closer and closer, her heart beats faster and faster. The woman leans close to him, whispering against his lips.

Did he just—?

Indigo swears he glanced over at her for a millisecond. He looks down at his dance partner, nodding gently and she presses her lips to his, gliding over them passionately. 

The air’s knocked out of Indigo’s lungs. Her eyes dart around, trying to look at anything but them, instinctively reaching for her phone, but remembering it’s in Yeonjun’s pocket. 

She lets the burn of the scotch take over her body as she downs it all at once, her mind slightly buzzing, but the feeling quickly intensifies.

As they pull apart, his eyes meet Indigo’s across the room and she smirks at him, tilting her empty glass toward him. Her vision starts getting blurry; her eyelids feel heavy, but her head feels light.

The chorus of this song has played at least twenty times by now. At least it seems that way. And it won’t stop.

As the song finally ends, he pulls away from her, but she refuses to let him go, pulling him closer to try to kiss him again. But he turns his head, shaking it, making Indigo chuckle to herself. Eventually pulling away from her, he finds his way back to Indigo at the bar. 

“There. I told you,” he chuckles, waving down the bartender. 

“Yeah, I guess so,” she slurs, looking up at him.

“Woah,” he laughs, noticing the change in her demeanor and the smell of alcohol on her breath. “How many drinks did you have while I was gone?” She laughs, holding up two fingers, almost falling off the stool. His eyes widen as the bartender asks for their order. “Actually…just two waters.”

“I can’t believe you just kissed her,” she says. “Right in front of me.” She laughs, pulling on his sleeve. “Do you wanna know a secret?”

“Sure,” he chuckles. 

She pulls him down by the front of his shirt, whispering in his ear, “I did not like that.” He looks down at her. “Don’t do it again, please.” 

“Okay,” he says, taking the waters from the counter, handing one to her. “Drink this.” Taking the drink from him, she struggles to catch her straw with her tongue, making him laugh at her. 

She finally takes a sip, “ah, damn it—” she groans, trying to put the glass back in his hand. “I thought this was a vodka tonic.”

“No, you need to drink it.” She concedes, rolling her eyes. “I thought you didn’t like drinking,” he says.

“Do you promise?” She looks up at him through her eyelashes. 

“Promise what?”

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulls him down so his eyes are at the same level as hers. “That you won’t kiss anyone else.” He gulps.

Sitting his glass of water on the counter, he takes a deep breath and looks at her eyes. “I promise.” He smiles, pressing his lips together. “But only on one condition,” he starts. “You gotta promise me too.” 

She laughs. “I knew you were gonna say that.” She takes a big drink of her water. “You know I can’t.”

“Then neither can I, Indi,” he sighs.

Looking down at the floor, she bites the inside of her cheek, mumbling, “I wish I could, Yeonjun.”

“Ah, stop.” He shakes his head. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” She scoffs. 

Taking a deep breath, she glances up at him.“Will you dance with me again?”

“I’ll dance with you whenever you want,” he says.

She stands and stumbles over, but he catches her. “Can you at least promise me that?” She asks.

He chuckles. “That I can do.” Leading her to the dance floor, he holds her like he did earlier.

“You- are- cute-,” she says, poking his cheek with each word. 

“And you- are- drunk-” he laughs, mocking the cadence of her voice. She giggles, hugging him tighter, resting her head on his shoulder. 

“You know that song you wrote yesterday?” She asks, making him smile thinking about them hanging out in the recording studio the night before. 

“You’re too hard on yourself, Yeonjun,” Indigo said, fiddling with some of the knobs on the mixing board.

“It’s like I know what I wanna say, but can’t…put it into words.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “At least not words that sound pretty together.”

“Let me see what you have so far,” she said, reaching for his notebook, but he pulled it back. “Why can’t I see it?” He leaned back in his chair, guarding the notebook, tapping the pencil’s eraser on the paper. “I won’t judge you.” He shook his head, biting the inside of his cheek. “You never know…it could be the greatest song of all time if we use both our brains.”

He looked at her through the hair that had fallen in front of his face. “Fine,” he conceded. “Promise me you won’t laugh.” He sat up, scooting closer to her. 

“I won’t laugh,” she smiled, taking the notebook from his hand while he cringed, resting his heels on the chair and tucking his face into his knees while she read it. “What if—why are you hiding?” She giggled, poking his calf with her pen. “It’s good.”

He shook his head, “you’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m not. Just some tweaks…” she trailed off, scribbling on the page. “Listen,” she said, reading the lyrics out loud. His face shot up, looking over her shoulder. “See? Now the syllable count matches between these two lines. Not bad, right?”

“How did you do that?”

“Years and years of practice,” she giggled, watching his eyes brighten as he re-reads the lyrics.

“Do you remember?” She giggles in his ear, bringing him back to reality. He nods, his heart pounding, worried that she caught onto the subject of the lyrics. “I was just thinking about it. I liked it a lot.” 

The alcohol gives her the strength to look into his eyes. Both of their lips part as they inch closer together. His hands press against her back, her breathing steady and heavy. They were the only two people in the world. Their breath on each other’s mouths, their eyes locked on each other’s lips, their bodies impossibly close. 

She whispers his name.

He raises his eyebrows, waiting for her to finish her sentence.

“Your pocket’s vibrating.” She giggles.

He lets go of her, looking down, shoving his hand in his pocket. “Oh, it’s your phone,” he says, handing it to her.

“Ah,” she sighs, her face lit by the cool glow of her phone. “I, uh, I guess I’ll take this outside.”

Finding a seat at the bar, he looks at himself in the mirror behind the counter. Maybe this was a bad idea. After unlocking his phone, it buzzes, a notification appearing at the top of the screen.

Indi 12:48 AM im lost

“Where are you?” He asks over the phone. 

“I told you,” she stutters. “I don’t know,” she laughs. Standing, he heads toward the front door, glancing around the room for her. Eventually, he finds her leaning against the railing leading to the front of the door.

“There you are!” She cheers. “You look…” she grabs the front of his shirt by his collar, “so good in this outfit.” 

“Yeah, okay,” he chuckles, his eyes shifting, trying to hold her up so she doesn’t fall.

“You…” she points at him, his eyebrows furrowed. “You always look good.”

He laughs, “you think so?”

“Have you seen you?” She looks at him, squeezing his face, making his lips poutier than usual. “Damn,” she giggles. He nods, pulling her behind him down the sidewalk. “Where are we going?”

“You need food,” he laughs, walking toward a convenience store. 

Walking up and down aisles of food, she turns to him, “What about me?”

“What about you?”

“Do I look good too?” She spins, tilting her chin down, looking over her shoulder with seductive eyes, making him laugh and nod. “A nod isn’t good enough, Yeonjun,” she says, holding her hand behind her ear.

“You look good, Indi.” He bites his knuckle jokingly. “Damn.” 

“Yeah?” She asks, sliding her hand around his neck and into his hair, pulling on it. “You think I’m sexy?” She whispers, her breath on his lips. He swallows, smirking down at her. “Don’t worry,” she lets go of his hair. “I won’t tell anyone.”

He takes a deep breath, opening one of the refrigerators, pulling out some water bottles. “Go sit down and I’ll meet you over there,” he says, tilting his head toward a booth.

Greeting her with food, he finds her laying all the way down in the seat. She sits up quickly, wincing and holding her head.

“Here,” he pushes a water bottle and a bowl of instant noodles toward her. She fiddles with her noodles, her eyebrows furrowed. “You gotta break the chopsticks apart.”

“Oh, yeah!” She cackles, picking up the chopsticks and attempting to break them apart. “Can you do it for me?” He chuckles, reaching across the table to snap them, placing them in her hand. “Thank you!” She shouts.

He shushes her, “Indi, you’re yelling,” he laughs.

“Sorry,” she giggles, covering her face with her hand. “Thank you!” She scream-whispers.

“Man, you’re funny when you’re drunk.”

Her smile drops, “oh god, Yeonjun,” she says, laying her head on the table, her shoulders shaking.

Moving to her side of the booth, he lifts her up, asking, “What’s wrong?” He turns her face toward him by her chin, tears in her eyes. 

“I don’t know,” she says. He raises his eyebrows, chuckling at her. Burying her face in his shoulder, he wraps his arm around her while she hugs his waist, draping her legs overtop of his.

“You’re a happy, sad, and clingy drunk?”

“...and a sleepy drunk too,” she giggles. 

He doesn’t know how long they sat there, carefully eating his noodles, listening to her gentle snores while she fell asleep. 

Soon enough, the water, noodles, and nap sober her up just enough to be able to walk on her own again without stumbling over.

“So,” Indigo starts as they walk down her hotel’s hallway. “What are your end-of-the-night moves?”

“What do you mean?” He asks, his hands in his pockets.

“You know, what do you do at the end of a date?”

“Oh,” he sighs. “I don’t know. What do you do?”

“Well, if I want someone to kiss me, I’ll lean back onto my door and pull the front of their shirt like this,” she says, her fingers gripping his shirt, pulling him closer to her. “And look at them like this.” She tilts her chin up, narrowing her eyes at him seductively, a slight smirk on her face. “And then I move my hand up their chest and around their neck and pull them even closer.”

Her hand makes his breath hitch just barely, but not enough for her to notice. She does, however, notice his hands wrapping around her waist. “Then I’ll compliment them.” He tilts his head, raising his eyebrows. “So for you, I might run my fingers through your hair,” she says, doing exactly that. “And say something like ‘you dyed your hair again’,” she smirks. “‘I think black’s my favorite on you.’” His eyes roam her face before she lets go of his hair, standing up a little straighter as he backs off. 

“Is that true?” He asks, and she hums in question. “My black hair is your favorite?”

“Uh,” she blushes, looking at the floor. “Yeah, I guess so.” She giggles. “How about you? I had purple hair last time you saw me, right? Which do you like best on me?” He uses this question as an excuse to look at her.

“Black.” He says matter-of-factly. Smiling, she tucks some of her hair behind her ear. “Thanks for coming out with me tonight.”

“Thanks for taking me out. It was fun,” she giggles, leaning back on her door. He has to force himself to not brush some of her hair out of her face. “Well, goodnight, I guess.”

“Goodnight, Indi,” he sighs, and she presses her lips together, watching him walk away. 

“Yeonjun?” He looks at her over his shoulder. “Will you stay with me?” He turns around completely, raising his eyebrows. “Nevermind, that’s stupid. Goodnight,” she says, turning toward the door. 

“Actually, no,” she starts, turning around again. “I just don’t feel like being by myself on my birthday. I know it’s not my birthday anymore,” she giggles, looking at the time on her phone. “But it’s still my birthday in my head.” He smirks at her. “I’ve got popcorn.” She shrugs. 

He agrees, following her inside as she sets her keys down on the desk. 

“I’m gonna change,” she says, grabbing her pajamas that were resting on the chair while he sits on the bed. “I have a big t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that might fit you if you want?” 

“No, that’s okay,” he says, shaking his head. She nods, closing the door to the bathroom, walking out a few minutes later with her hair up in a clip and her glasses on. 

“What?” She asks, her eyebrows scrunching up and her eyes widening, unwrapping a bag of popcorn to put in the microwave. 

“Oh,” he clears his throat, realizing he was staring at her. “I just didn’t know you wore glasses.” 

“Oh my god. Are they that bad?” She asks, her cheeks turning red, using her hands to cover them. 

“No, no, they look fine,” he stutters. “I just didn’t know you wore them is all.” He shrugs. “Do you wanna watch a movie or something? It’s your birthday. You pick.”

[rowan-sins]

𝕸𝖆𝖙𝖈𝖍𝖚𝖕 𝖋𝖔𝖗 @fijiflower​

𝕿𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖎𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖈𝖍𝖚𝖕 (4) 𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖔𝖋 (10)

𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖆𝖗𝖊 (6) 𝖘𝖑𝖔𝖙𝖘 𝖑𝖊𝖋𝖙

This world is new to you, the islands, the waves, the breeze in your hair. It’s all foreign. But the sun shines so bright from between the leaves of Nami’s tangerine tree. They light up your face, her face, as you both lounge quietly in the afternoon on the going sunny.

She’s smart and savvy, and the both of you click together immediately. Did you meet because she had the gutsiness to steal your wallet, and you had the grit to chase her back for it? Maybe. But it was truly love at first sight on that dock. She proposed a game to win your wallet back, and when you just snatched it straight out of her hand mid-sentence, she knew that she needed more of you in her life.

You both share a common love for the nice things in life. Money, shopping, being served bubbly beverages by a certain blond tripping over you. At the core, you’re both incredibly similar souls. And friendship, that’s such an important thing to the both of you. Above all else you’d do anything for your friends, for her friends, as you join her family and become their nakama as well.

You share mischievous grins before sneaking off the One Thousand Sunny to go shopping, or before sneaking into the kitchen for a second helping of breakfast (that marmalade was so good, you can’t help but want a little bit extra on that freshly sliced sourdough… and maybe an egg too). You help her do her hair in the morning, and design fun dresses for her to wear, and she makes maps that lead you to the most scenic sunsets (“Oh would you look at that!” she exclaims with joy, “there’s already a picnic basket for the two of us.” You can’t help the laugh you let out at that, Nami, forever your love, trying to act like she didn’t plan this.)

Ask her to steal for you. Please ask her to steal for you. Her fingers are itching for matching diamond rings and gold necklaces and pearl strings longer than your wing-span. She has a treasure chest of jewelry, that she shares with you, and only you. (“You look good in that necklace! Where’d you find it?” She’ll ask, knowing full well you snatched it off her dresser this morning. You kiss her cheek as you slink by, and watch her melt into the railing of the ship. “Where I find the rest of my jewelry,” you throw over your shoulder before slide through the gap of the door into the kitchen.)

The two of you click together, like gears in a clock, or the lid on a bottle. You match like two pairs of socks and if people couldn’t see the mutual longing in your eyes for each other, than they would think your twins, or two halves of the same, very strong beautiful person. But her hand on your shoulder, well manicured nails almost digging into the soft skin tell the story well enough itself, they’re mine back off!

[reginaldtd]

Complete Your Look with Stunning Fashion Accessories from Favonne

Complete Your Look with Stunning Fashion Accessories from Favonne

Every outfit tells a story, but it’s the accessories that bring it to life. Whether you’re dressing up for a special occasion or adding flair to your everyday look, the right accessories can make all the difference. At Favonne.com, you’ll find an incredible range of fashion accessories that blend style, quality, and affordability.

Why Fashion Accessories Matter

Accessories are more than just add-ons — they’re the finishing touch that ties your whole outfit together. A statement necklace can elevate a simple dress, while the perfect bag can make your everyday errands feel glamorous.

But accessories are more than just about style. They’re also practical. Think sunglasses that shield your eyes in style or a sleek belt that defines your waistline. Accessories let you express yourself while serving a purpose, making them an essential part of any wardrobe.

Spotlight on Favonne’s Accessory Collection

Favonne.com stands out as a premier destination for fashion lovers, offering a carefully curated collection of accessories to suit every taste and occasion.

At Favonne.com, you’ll find:

Unique Designs: From classic pieces to bold, trendy items.

High-Quality Materials: Accessories that are stylish and built to last.

Affordable Options: Luxury looks without the hefty price tag.

Whether you’re looking for minimalist elegance or eye-catching statement pieces, Favonne has you covered.

Top Fashion Accessories You’ll Love

1. Statement Jewelry

Nothing completes an outfit quite like jewelry. Explore Favonne.com collection of earrings, necklaces, and bracelets designed to turn heads. From delicate gold chains to bold, colorful designs, there’s something for every personality.

2. Stylish Bags and Clutches

A great bag isn’t just practical — it’s a style statement. Favonne.com offers handbags, crossbody bags, and evening clutches that blend function and fashion seamlessly.

3. Sunglasses and Hats

Add a touch of glamour to your look with Favonne.com trendy sunglasses and chic hats. Perfect for sunny days or making a bold style statement year-round.

4. Belts, Scarves, and Hair Accessories

Don’t underestimate the power of the little things. A sleek belt can transform a dress, while a patterned scarf adds sophistication. Don’t forget hair accessories — Favonne.com headbands, scrunchies, and barrettes are perfect for adding a playful or elegant touch.

5. Watches and Functional Accessories

Favonne.com combines style and practicality with their collection of watches and other functional accessories. These pieces ensure you’re always on time while looking your best.

Benefits of Shopping Accessories at Favonne

Shopping for accessories at Favonne.com isn’t just about adding items to your cart — it’s about elevating your wardrobe. Here’s what sets them apart:

Exclusive Designs: Stand out with pieces that aren’t available everywhere else.

Affordable Luxury: Enjoy premium quality at prices that fit your budget.

Convenient Shopping: Browse easily and check out securely with a few clicks.

Excellent Customer Support: Get assistance whenever you need it.

Customer Reviews and Stories

“I purchased a statement necklace and a matching bracelet from Favonne.com, and they’ve become my go-to pieces for every occasion. The quality is incredible, and I’ve received so many compliments!” — Emma K.

“Favonne.com has the best collection of bags and clutches. I bought a crossbody bag that’s both stylish and practical for everyday use.” — Sophia T.

Tips for Styling Accessories

Accessories are all about balance. Here are some tips to help you style them like a pro:

Less is More: Let one or two statement pieces shine. If you’re wearing a bold necklace, skip the oversized earrings.

Match Your Outfit’s Tone: Pair sleek accessories with formal wear and playful pieces with casual outfits.

Layer Smartly: Stack rings, bracelets, or necklaces for a chic layered look — but don’t overdo it.

How to Shop for Accessories on Favonne

Ready to upgrade your accessory game? Here’s how to get started:

Visit Favonne.com and explore the “Accessories” section.

Use the filters to find exactly what you need, from jewelry to bags and more.

Add your favorite items to the cart and complete your purchase with secure checkout.

Join the mailing list to stay updated on new arrivals, exclusive deals, and seasonal sales.

Accessories aren’t just finishing touches — they’re the defining elements of your style. With Favonne’s incredible selection of fashion accessories, you can elevate any look effortlessly. Whether you’re going bold or keeping it understated, there’s something for everyone.

Don’t wait — visit Favonne.com today and discover how accessories can transform your wardrobe!

Upgrade your wardrobe now with stunning accessories from Favonne.com. Shop today and make every outfit unforgettable!

From the @Favonne Reginald Truitt

[malanijewelers98]

Choosing the Perfect Gold Bracelet for Women: Styles, Trends, and Tips from Malani Jewelers

Gold bracelets have long held a special place in jewelry collections, symbolizing beauty, elegance, and tradition. From classic gold bangles to contemporary bracelet styles, there’s something for every taste and occasion. At Malani Jewelers, we bring over a century of expertise in crafting jewelry that beautifully combines tradition and modernity. Let’s dive into what makes gold bracelets so beloved, how to find the right fit, and what’s trending now.

1. The Appeal of Gold Bracelets

A gold bracelet is more than just an accessory; it’s a piece that can be worn for years, often passed down through generations. From traditional designs rooted in culture to sleek, minimalist styles, gold bracelets suit every taste. Women’s bracelets can be worn alone for a subtle touch or stacked for a bold look that stands out.

Why Choose a Gold Bracelet? Gold bracelets bring a timeless glow and charm to any outfit. They suit both everyday wear and special occasions, effortlessly adding sophistication without overpowering the rest of the attire.

2. Types of Gold Bracelets for Women

When selecting a gold bracelet, it’s essential to know the variety of styles available. Here’s a quick breakdown of popular types:

Gold Bangle Bracelets Bangles are classic, solid bracelets that can be worn individually or in stacks. They come in a variety of widths and designs—from sleek, plain gold to detailed, patterned options. Malani Jewelers offers a beautiful collection of gold bangles for those who want to add a touch of sophistication to any outfit.

Cuff Bracelets Cuff bracelets are open-ended and slightly flexible, making them easy to wear. Their design allows for intricate patterns and can be found in both chunky and delicate styles. Cuffs work well as statement pieces, ideal for adding a bit of flair to evening attire.

Chain Bracelets Chain bracelets come in various links and sizes, offering a more relaxed and adaptable look. They’re perfect for casual and semi-formal settings, with a range that includes rope, cable, and box chains.

Charm Bracelets Charm bracelets add a personal touch, featuring small charms that hold meaning or significance. Gold charms can represent milestones, favorite symbols, or personal interests, making each bracelet a unique piece.

3. How to Choose the Right Gold Bracelet

When choosing a gold bracelet, consider style, comfort, and wearability. Think about your wardrobe and lifestyle—do you prefer something classic or trendy? Here are some tips to guide you:

Consider the Occasion For everyday wear, a simple gold chain or bangle bracelet works well. However, if you’re attending a special event, a more elaborate or layered bracelet might be the way to go.

Choose the Right Size A bracelet that fits well not only looks better but also feels comfortable. Many women prefer a slightly looser fit for bangles, while chain bracelets should have a comfortable but secure fit.

Pick Your Karat Gold bracelets come in various purities, with 14K and 18K being the most popular for their blend of durability and rich gold color. Higher karats, like 22K, have a deeper yellow hue but can be softer.

4. Styling Tips: How to Wear Gold Bracelets

Gold bracelets offer endless styling opportunities. Here are a few ways to wear them:

Single Statement Sometimes, a single bangle or chain bracelet is all you need. This minimalist look pairs beautifully with casual outfits.

Stacking Bracelets Mix and match different gold bracelets for a layered look. You can combine bangles, chains, and cuffs to create a unique, stacked style. Try pairing with your watch for a balanced wrist look.

Pairing with Other Jewelry Gold bracelets complement other jewelry pieces, so don’t be afraid to combine them with rings or necklaces. Keeping to similar gold tones can create a cohesive look.

Shop Gold Bracelets at Malani Jewelers

Whether you’re searching for a simple gold bangle or an intricate chain bracelet, Malani Jewelers offers a wide selection to choose from. With over a century in the jewelry business, Malani Jewelers is dedicated to quality craftsmanship and customer satisfaction.

Final Thoughts

Gold bracelets for women continue to be a beloved choice, blending classic style with endless versatility. Whether you’re buying for yourself or as a gift, gold bracelets bring a lasting glow and charm to any collection. Check out the latest collection at Malani Jewelers and find the piece that suits your style.

[redwayfarers]

wip whenever

i was tagged by @thevikingwoman, thank you friend! i am back into my wayfarer brainrot and i'm finishing up my ties that sever series. i may have yelled abt this with friends in dms but here's a little sneak peak into the despina* chapter, finally!

*despina being cass' older sister.

When you grow up around these things, it’s easy for one face to replace another. I vividly remember the few events I was invited to as a kid; I was told to not speak to people, to just nod along to whatever they’re saying and sit in the corner, a child-shaped statue. I wasn’t to embarrass the family, Aiantes said.  So they got me all dressed up, in one of those child appropriate versions of adult serithans, and styled my hair out of the way. A curl or three would inevitably slip, even if the hands that had braided them were very good, and I remember Theokleia staring me down. We have the same hair, my mother and I. I knew her hair wasn’t as flawless as she’d pretended it was.  She never forgave me for that. And many other things, but the knowledge that the same trait that gave us both a sharp, prominent nose also gave us the same coarse curls was like a cherry on top of a cake of hatred. Her makeup was always well done, gold like her eyes. Her nails were long and pretty, painted to match her serithan. She always wore gold jewelry, rings, necklaces, earrings.  And me? Gold dangled off of me in much the same way, mismatched and too grown up. The nails were a little too much, but I was allowed a dash of white every now and then. And so we’d pose, my mother and I, show the world my health is just fine for the moment, and I’d be carted off to a seat in the back, with my back ramrod straight, mindful for any movement, sound, word.  Aiantes wore luxury more effortlessly than his wife. The simple styles of the Vestran elite suited him better than they did Theokleia; they made him look graceful, pristine. Yet he too was dissatisfied; he was rarely allowed to be an eyesore he wanted to be, in bright colors. Too Arathian, I heard him mumble under his breath. Too much, too foreign, too extreme. But he watched turquoise cloth with barely restrained yearning.

tagging: @astraphone, @irisopranta, @impossible-rat-babies, @scionshtola, @roguelioness and @galadae!!!! and everyone else who wants to do this, feel free to tag me obvs <3