#oaken´s

[apollo-likes-writing]

LAPIS LAZULI - 1. Reality

Character(s): Kakavasha/Aventurine

Tags: Long fic, no other tags apply tbf

Word Count: 2651 words

Summary: University seminars, philosophical discussions, and over-the-top ornate letters. What could go wrong?

Author’s note: I’d like to state for the record that I am currently not in university so have no idea how it works, so excuse any inaccuracies you may find here. Also, I had to dig around the Archives in game to make sure the lore is right lmao. Once again this is inspired by the ever wonderful @havanillas and their role swap!au. Check it out!

Account Masterlist | Fic Masterlist | Prologue

8.45am - Wednesday

“Doctor? I have a letter addressed to you. Would you like me to leave it on your desk?”

“Yes please, Cassandra. I’ll have a look at it after today’s seminar. Thank you.”

”No problem, Doctor. It will be there when you arrive.”

Kakavasha takes his finger off the call button and leans back in his spinny chair, fingers interlocked on his stomach as he stares at the ceiling of his classroom. One hand reaches for a bottle of water on an oaken desk and he takes a swig, the liquid wonderfully tasteless as it slides down his throat. His students were to arrive within the next five minutes or so, so he makes himself busy by writing up a few diagrams on the whiteboard adjacent to his desk. To his annoyance, the marker pen runs out of ink halfway through, so goes on a hunt through his drawers to find another.

He roots through them for a few minutes, grumbling to himself and making a mental note to buy more with the university budget when he has free time. He finds another and grabs it triumphantly, lifting it to eye level with a grin before promptly realising two of his students have entered the classroom and sat down; now staring at him with poorly withheld amusement. At the sight of one of them giving him a cheeky wave and a “Good morning, Professor-“, he clears his throat and pivots on his heel before continuing his task. Next time he hears the chatter of the entering students before the door opens. The sound of backpacks being chucked under tables and laptops being opened fills the air as the majority enter and Kakavasha can’t prevent his quiet pleased sigh. These kids are here to learn and there is a strange form of pride that wells within him at the idea. With a few brief strokes of the marker, he finishes what he was doing and turns to the few dozen pupils in front of him.

”Morning folks,” he begins, twizzling the pen between his fingers artistically. “Today we’ll be continuing from where we left off on Monday’s lecture. Did anyone have the forethought to read through those notes before today?” A surprising majority of the room murmur their affirmative. He nods. “Good. What do you remember?” he asks, pointing the marker in the direction of redhead two rows from the front.

“We were learning about the different Aeons and the effect they have on THEIR Pathstriders and Emanators, Professor,” he replies meekly. Kakavasha gives a small smile.

”Correct, yes. Monday was about Lan the Hunt and THEIR endorsement of the Xianshou Alliance, as well as the Galaxy Rangers,” he states, now pointing at a shoddily drawn picture of a three-headed being on the whiteboard. “Today we’ll be talking about Xipe the Harmony. What do you already know about THEM and the people who follow THEIR path?”

A few students lift their hands. Kakavasha points to another to answer. A silver-haired foxian. “Xipe is a plural Aeon from lots of worlds. THEY wish for the strong to help the weak.” At the professor’s silent smile, she stutters, “Uh- I think.”

”You’re right. Glad to see you’ve done your research. Xipe is the embodiment of philosophies concerning equal rights and singularity. From what THEIR followers have preached, Xipe the Harmony believes that-“ Kakavasha takes the cap off his marker and begins to ascribe a quote on the whiteboard, “-‘Intellient life forms must discard their cowardly selfishness and the differences between individuals, fusing into one singular melody.’ In simpler terms, THEY believe that no-one is above anyone else, and everyone deserves the same chances in life.” The clicking of several keyboards follow as he circles the finished quote.

”Seems to be too far-fetched a dream, if you ask me,” a student near the back grouches in response. He is slouched back in his chair with his arms crossed, looking poignantly at Kakavasha.

”Why do you say that?” the Sigonian questions, curious.

”The universe does not treat people equally,” the student replies simply.

Ain't that the truth.

”Elaborate.”

The student pushes himself upright with his hands. “I’m all for equal rights, Professor, don’t get me wrong, but the reality of life is that not everyone is born equal. Nepotism is a big reason, but also because there are a lot of shitty people in the universe who don't hesitate to stomp on the backs of others in order to get a step up for themselves.” That is clearly directed at someone specific (or rather a specific organisation), but Kakavasha doesn’t voice that. That organisation is probably funding this pupil’s degree.

”Go on,” he urges, face some kind of welcoming. The student fiddles with the edges of his open laptop for a few moments, unsure, but eventually decides to say what is on his mind.

”There is a level of social and economical class a person needs to have if they want to be taken seriously in this life. I completely agree with the Harmony’s path, but it just isn’t realistic. I mean, what rights does a slave have next to their master?”

And isn’t that the million-credit question? There’s a clear taken aback look on Kakavasha’s face that is concealed as quickly as it appears. His chest tightens slightly and a small lump settles in his throat. It’s a figure of speech, Kakavasha. A figure of speech used to help elaborate a very valid and interesting point of view. He’s sure the kid isn’t aware of the connotations of saying such a thing. He fights the urge to lift his hand to his neck and rub the branding so forcibly put there all those years ago. The habit itches at him, making his fingers twitch.

”Professor?”

Right, he has a class to teach.

He clears his throat and swallows. “You’re very right. Equality is non-existent at this point in time. People less fortunate are facing more and more hardships each day, while those born being fed from silver spoons have it easier. I don't disagree with you. One thing you need to realise, however, is that Aeons’ beliefs are based on ideals, not rules.” The student looks at him with a raised brow, not quite understanding. Kakavasha continues. “Aeons are the embodiment of philosophical concepts. That is all they are: concepts. It's all well and good preaching them but the reality is, like you said, unlikely to take place. Xipe the Harmony has influence all over the cosmos in thousands of worlds but that doesn't mean they are omnipresent. Some Aeons have more influence than others. Qlipoth the Preservation, for example, practically dominates the universe with the IPC. Compare that to Nous the Erudition and THEIR 84 members of the Genius Society and few dozen thousand members of the Intelligentsia Guild and you can see the quantifiable difference.”

Kakavasha needs another sip of his water. The students are hastily writing down notes on computers and notebooks. The original student who started the discussion nods slowly before doing the same. The professor withholds a tired sigh.

This is going to be a long seminar.

10:17am - Wednesday

When the scholar arrives in his office an hour later, he practically collapses into his chair. He drags a hand down his face with a groan and uses the other to take his hair out of its ponytail. The sigh of relief he lets out after the tension is released is audible and warm. His eyes closed, he recalls his lecture timetable and is quietly grateful that the rest of his day is free. Regardless, he keeps his door unlocked in case any of his students need assistance with their work.

He likes what he does at Veritas Prime. It gives him a well-needed break from the tireless nights in this very office spent researching. It also allows him to witness the growth of bright minds. He has a direct effect on the future of these kids (he says “kids” despite the fact that they are all in their twenties and only a few years younger than him) and he is not about to throw their future down the drain. So he tries. He genuinely tries, and the work he puts in makes a difference. If he can give someone with an upbringing as similar as his the chance to grow, then he will take every opportunity he can to do so. No one should be uneducated purely because of where and how they were raised. The ignorant should choose to be ignorant, not be forced into it because they happened to be born into less fortunate circumstances. Kakavasha knows what that's like and he refuses to let others suffer as he did.

Wow. Look at him being all motivational. He should write a speech. The IPC would eat that up. Not that they’d listen to a word he would actually say: they look at the sole survivor of a dead race and they see money bags, not a human being. The thought reminds him of another Intelligentsia Guild scholar. Or rather, a former Intelligentsia Guild member. Veritas Ratio: the man idolised by all. Everyone in the Guild compares Kakavasha to him. They see a young scholar with “promise and potential” and it’s an immediate link. He can’t blame them - the esteemed Doctor Ratio is a legend after all. He feels honoured. Really, he does! He’s simply irked by the fact that he’s compared to such a genius and has yet to meet him. If the Guild’s hapless musings are true, then the potential prospects of their work together would be boundless.

He knows that’s not possible now. Anyone with half a brain cell and access to the Internet knows of the exploits of the former doctor (Well, he’s still a doctor. He still has all eight of those pHDs). A quick search shows a smiling face and his new pseudonym: Lapis Lazuli. Kakavasha doesn’t know him well enough to feel pride for the man, but he does understand the feeling of patriotism at the idea of a former member of the Guild reaching so high that he became one of the Ten Stonehearts. Most people who have worked tirelessly in the IPC all their lives don’t come anywhere close to that level, yet Lapis Lazuli did it in less than half a decade. How did he do it? Status? Money? Luck? Kakavasha inwardly recoils at that last one.

Luck. Most see it as a blessing. For Kakavasha, it’s nothing but a curse. It is his rediculous luck that made him the one that survived the genocide of his people. He was the one who managed to escape that hellhole of a planet (which then resulted in him being thrown into the slave trade, just his luck). It was then just his luck that he was sold, again, to that detestable man in the Guild who found it in himself to strip away Kakavasha’s autonomy (not that he had any at that point anyway) to test on him in hopes of accessing, manipulating, and stealing the only thing that had kept him alive: his luck. Luck bestowed upon him by a god that clearly has a sick sense of humour. Luckily for him, that man couldn’t keep a secret, so he was promptly found and thrown in prison for his unethical practices for a very, very long time.

Now that he's thinking about it, Kakavasha supposes he's doing the same thing. Sort of. Technically the opposite if you squint? He wishes to rid himself of this unbridled luck, yes, but not to manipulate it. He just wants it gone. At least now, in the Intelligentsia Guild, he has the ability and the resources to research such a thing.

Maybe a legend like Veritas Ratio could give a little of his wisdom for his cause.

Yeah, right. Funny joke.

The Sigonian leans forwards and rests his elbows on his desk, head in his hands. He sulks. That's right. A grown man sulks. He stares at the mahogany wood and slips of paper below him and unfocuses his eyes, staying like that for a good twenty minutes or so before noticing a particularly eye-catching envelope addressed directly to him with an elaborate IPC-esque seal on the front. Ah right, the letter. This must have been what Cassandra was talking about earlier. He sits up straight and sorts out his posture. Opening his desk drawer, he hunts around for a bit until he finds the blade of a letter opener. He uses it to open the envelope and fishes out the letter within. It's written in printed cursive on crisp and pure white paper with an ornate golden border around the edge. Gold leaves creep up the sides and dance around the corners, making Kakavasha feel as if it’s addressed to the wrong person at first. His name plastered on the back of the envelope and the top of the paper says otherwise.

It's an invitation.

To the wise and honourable Doctor Kakavasha,

The Interastral Peace Corporation invites you and several other esteemed members of the Intelligentsia Guild to a business party at 8pm on Friday the [xx] of [xxxx] at Pier Point. This is a black-tie event, so please dress applicably. Transport will be provided for you, so please RSVP as soon as possible if you wish to attend. This is a party hosted in hopes of forging positive relations between the IPC and its allied organisations, as well as fostering camaraderie and healthy business. We look forward to hearing from you.

Kind regards,

D, P47

Kakavasha rereads the letter several times, frown deepening more and more as his comprehension of it improves. His immediate thought is to rip it up and throw the remains in his paper bin. Kakavasha hates parties. He has done for years. They're always full of demeaning pricks trying to get into either his research papers or his pants. The Avgin has always refused both.

A business party connecting the Intelligentsia Guild and the IPC. The two organisations already have connections with each other, the latter funding a lot of the projects within the former, so what gives? Why have this party? Granted, it states several reasons within the letter, but the IPC is nothing without their ulterior motives. It could be as simple as the rich and powerful wanting to rub elbows with the other rich and powerful (knowing this universe, this is probably the case), but there is always the possibility of more menacing reasons.

Kakavasha is a scholar at heart. Scholars have always been beings of curiosity. He reads the letter again and sees another thing that catches his eye.

D: an initial that implies that this is an invite by Diamond, founder of the Ten Stonehearts. Will this Diamond, rumoured Emanator of Qlipoth the Preservation, actually be present during this party? Absolutely not. He's far too important for that. Will other Stonehearts be present, though? Almost definitely. Kakavasha's mind flicks back to the rabbit hole he fell down in the wee hours of the morning one night, surfing the Internet and scrounging the web for information on a certain grape-haired executive he's so closely compared to.

Veritas Ratio. Lapis Lazuli. Maybe he will be there. Maybe they can have a discussion about how to cure his dastardly luck.

Kakavasha picks up his phone and dials for his secretary. She answers almost immediately.

“Yes, Doctor?” she begins.

“Hiya, Cassandra. Please may you contact the IPC with a RSVP? I've been asked to attend a party of theirs.”

“Doctor Kakavasha? At a party? Willingly? I must be going mad,” she jokes.

“You and I both,” he chuckles in response. “Thanks Cassandra.”

“Of course.”

Kakavasha puts the phone down and leans back in his chair, calculating in his mind quietly at what in Gaiathra’s great name he’s doing.

He's going to need a suit.

-

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Event Highlights Part 2

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[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Escaping Lucien

Lucien Masterlist

Y/N was just starting to stir when she felt it- pressure on her neck, two tiny pinches, then…nothing. Her breath hitched. Her eyes fluttered open and she glanced at her host. Lucien started to drink, and Y/N barely felt it at all. As the seconds ticked by however, she began to feel warm and dizzy.

“S-stop, stop!” she protested weakly.

She tried raising her arm to strike him, but Lucien took it with his free hand and gently set it back down.

Dark spots encroached on her vision, and her struggles started to die down. Only when she felt her body going limp did Lucien detach his mouth from her neck. Y/N stared up at him through glazed, half-lidded eyes that slowly fluttered shut once more.

…

Lucien wiped the excess blood from his chin, licking it from his fingers. He looked down at Y/N. Unlike his servants or those in the village, her blood was intoxicating. Such a fine source of nourishment should not be squandered. She would need to stay here indefinitely. Yes, it would be much safer here.

“Well done, Y/N. Well done.”

…

It was only when a sliver of early morning light filtered through the deep crimson curtains that Y/N woke up once again. She bolted upright in bed. Her clothes had been replaced with silk sleepwear, and there was a soreness on one side of her neck. The memories of last night were hazy, but the alarm bells ringing in her head were loud and clear. She needed to leave, and fast.

Y/N sprang out of bed. She shoved on the closest pair of shoes she could find and threw the door open. She grabbed a brass candelabra, wielding it like a club, and sprinted from the room. She didn’t bother to wonder what had happened to her day clothes or her luggage. Adrenaline pumped through her every vein, making her face a soft red. The manor was enormous, and with so many twists and turns, it was more like a labyrinth.

She just had her hand on the front doorknob when a gentle breeze wisped through. That wouldn’t be frightening if it weren’t for the fact that all the windows were closed with the heavy curtains drawn shut.

Y/N whipped around, brandishing her candelabra. Lucien stood there, a great pair of bat wings sprouting from his back and his eyes glowing in the early morning light. Y/N stood frozen a moment, before tearing the nearest curtain from its rod, letting the entryway flood with sunlight.

Lucien blinked, seemingly unaffected by the bane of his kind. Y/N’s eyes widened; she clutched her weapon tighter.

“You’re causing quite a stir so late,” Lucien remarked, “or rather, so early.”

“Y-you,” Y/N stammered, “you should be dead!”

“Oh, I’ll probably have quite a few burns after this,” Lucien said, squinting against the light, “but I’m afraid Mr. Stoker has misinformed you. A bit of sunlight is not going to turn me into a puff of dust. Though I am a bit hurt that your first instinct was to kill me.”

“You kidnapped me!”

“Strange, I seem to recall you coming to my domain quite willingly.”

“You did something to my head!”

“Hypnosis.”

“And you bit me!”

“Only to get the blood.”

Lucien looked so calm in the midst of this, even a little amused. It enraged and further frightened Y/N.

She fumbled for the doorknob behind her back.

“Ah, now I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” Lucien said, stepping forward.

Y/N found the knob, turned it, and went to push the great oaken door open. It… barely budged. She put all her weight on it, but before she could open it all the way, Lucien yanked her back by the arm, pinning her back against his chest.

“Let me go!” Y/N said, thrashing in his hold.

She did about as much good as a worm on a fisherman’s hook.

“Behave,” Lucien hissed in her ear, “or I will resort to ‘doing something with your head’.”

Lucien picked Y/N up in a bridal carry and started to take her back to the room she had woken up in. He deposited her on the bed.

“If you want to live, then you are not to leave this manor. In fact, it might do well if you didn’t leave this room until I come for you.”

Lucien turned, slamming the door shut. It locked with a gentle but audible click. Y/N sat there for a moment, staring at the door, before jumping up and trying to open it. She banged on the door.

“Let me out!” she shouted.

…

Y/N shouts echoed throughout the halls. Lucien rubbed his temples and turned to his servant.

“Make sure she doesn’t starve,” he said, “and bring up the ointment, I’m going to need it.”

Lucien glided away, the beginnings of angry burns forming on his face and wings.

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[evans23]

Daughter of mine III

Turpin-o-Lantern

Pairing : Judge Turpin x Daughter OC

Summary : Richard Turpin, the High Judge of London, decides to create his own Halloween tradition in the hopes of getting closer to his daughter.

Tag(s)/Warning(s) : A bit of angst. Mention of prostitution and death. Mention of children being beaten. Awkward father. If I forget something, please mention it to me !

A/N: Hello dear 😁 I promised you Turpin for Halloween and here it is ! I didn't proofread it, therefore sorry for any mistake you encounter.

Part I - Part II

Also read on AO3

Turpin wasn't a man fond of disturbances in his town. Fortunately, they didn't happen often. Except for that damnable Christmas, which inevitably returned every year.

Richard despised Christmas, a celebration full of painful memories from his childhood, between a violent dad, an indifferent mother and the hypocrisy of people during that said warm celebration.

In his family, Christmas wasn't about sharing meals, basking in the company of loved ones, or exchanging gifts by a crackling fire with sweet treats, hot chocolates and warmth laughter. No, for the Turpin's familly, the celebration in their towering manor was an exercise in appearances. 

The household staff meticulously decorated his parents' estate, attending to every detail. A huge tree would pe positioned in the entrance hall, though neither Richard nor his younger brother were ever permitted to decorate it. As the sons of an earl, participating in such frivolous activities was beneath them.

Once, while he was only 6, he had the misfortune of breaking a glass ball while trying to observe it and his father, rather than worrying about the cut on his hand, punished him with a belt. 

On the night of the grand party, the boys were confined to a separate room with their governess, far from the festivities. Richard would never forget that night during which, his brother and him had escaping the vigilance of the old governess to watch the guests in their finery from the grand staircase. Unfortunately for them, their fathers had caught them, which made them earn a beating on the spot in his study and a second from the governess, who was not at all maternal and who had punished them at length with her oaken switch, making them laid down on their bed and hitting again and again, scolding them for having dared disobeying her and arousing their father's anger towards her. 

That was all Richard had known as a child. Beatings. Beatings from his father, beatings from his governess who was allowed to beat him and his brother as she pleased, and the indifference of a mother who looked away every time her husband unbuckled his belt or the governess made them bend over. 

As they grew older, they were grudgingly allowed to attend the party, but in silence. Children, after all, were to be seen, not heard, and in their case, being heard during that awfully incredible party would have mean more bruises. 

But, as if this wasn't enough, since the last teen years, a new festivity had taken place in the stress of London and was quite popular, for Richard biggest desperation : Halloween.

Not Samhain, the old Celtic celebration from which it was inspired, but Halloween, a terrible affront to the ancient pagan festival, coming straight from America. Indeed, some settlers who had come back to their old England had brought back with them that stupid new cutom. Not that Richard was particularly fond of the pagan festivity either, but at least, it meant something more important for people who had and was still celebrating it... away from his town. 

This Halloween was nothing short of a vulgard carnival for children during which they were wearing ridiculous costumes and scouring the streets for sweets.

Richard couldn't understand how this festivity had captured so quickly the enthusiasm of London's populace across all social strata. Not even his peers in the high society escaped the ridiculous celebration. 

Not that it was really disturbing during the day as people had to work as usual, but as soon as day turned into night, he had to tolerate stupid children running amok all around London with their even stupider parents.

Fortunately, none of them was foolish enough to come near Turpin's manor. After all, the gloomy venue was as intimidating as the man living there. But just the fact to know there were people adopting that foolish celebration coming from another continent, America for God's sake, was enough to annoy him. Yet, truth be told, Richard was easy to annoy.

However, for the first time, he had a child living in his mansion. A child who knew what Halloween was, even though she didn't mention it to anyone, neither to her governess, a kind woman, strict but always fair, that Richard would have sent to the depths of the Australian bush if she had dared to beat Catherine. The child was so quiet that she didn't even dare asking for things. She was still a tad shy around him, even if she talked with him a little bit more. 

Catherine had only recently begun opening up to him, addressing him as "father", a title he found he didn't mind in the least. Though, he was uncertain of how to be the father he aspired to be, he knew one thing : he would not be the father he resented from his own childhood.

Never Catherine would know the sensation of his belt on her back or of the switch while she would be humilated, bending over and enduring blow after blow as he had done so many times. 

As Richard strolled through the courthouse that morning, his mind wandered to that little girl and her big green eyes. Though, his attention was soon interrupted by The Beadle, scurrying along to keep pace with his master's long stride without realising that his employer wasn't listening at all. 

"So, my lord, do you agree with my proposal ?" the man inquired, his rodent-like face eager for approval.

Richard raised an eyebrow, barely concealing his impatience.

"Which proposal ?" he asked dryly, his tone sharp as a blade.

"The one about the young child who stole a piece of bread, sir" The Beadle replied, his confusion mounting. 

"Yes. No !" Richard, finally, dismissed him brusquely, "We'll need more time to consider the sentence here. But not now. Now, justice must be served !" he said ceremoniously. 

And with that said, Richard headed off towards the Court, where a long day was awaiting for him. 

Halloween, thankfully stayed away from his thoughts and the little curly hair girl in his mansion, even though not totally forgotten, was on the back of his mind for the rest of the day, too busy listening to buggler, impeachment and neighbor fighting about a goat as they couldn't decide to who the baby the goat was carying will belong to once they come into the world, as the male goat belonged to one and the female to another.

This last case irritated him particularly and he decided to hang the goat for adultary. 

He was far beyond annoyance when he finally left the Court. Unfortunatelly, there was as many trivial cases to administer as there were criminals to hang, thieves to cut off their hands and petty criminals to send away in Australia. 

But as he was walking in the street, his gaze fell on a father who was holding his daughter's hand. The little girl dragged him to a pumpkin seller with a huge smile on her face.

"Look dady ! This one would be perfect !" said the little girl, tugging excitedly at her father's sleeve, her eyes alight with joy.

Turpin felt his heart tighten in his chest when he saw the look of happinness both, father and daughter, shared. The dad, clearly eager to indulge his child with a mere pumpkin, bought it with a little grimace and Richard understood that the man was probably sacrificing his meal for the rest of the week just to make his daughter smile.

Richard would never have dared to ask his father for anything. He had to be content with what he received and he was happy when it was not a correction. But suddenly, his mind wander away as an unexpected thought came up to his mind. Maybe Catherine would enjoy such a simple pleasure. Actually, he had no idea if she even knew what Halloween was. Elena was poor, she probably couldn't even buy enough food for both of them, therefore something as expensive as sweets and pumpkins was unthinkable. Besides, she was a whore, likely spent such nights working while Catherine was locked up, alone in the dark. Surely she had no inkling of Halloween and she couldn't miss something she didn't know.

The idea to make her enjoying such a simple pleasur tugged at him, prompting him to take action. Catherine was still young, innocent and he wanted her to experience a pleasure of her age, pleasure he was denied as a child, forced to grow up too fast. He knew even little ladies and little lords enjoyed that festivity and it's how he found himself, The Great Judge Turpin, purchasing a pumpkin on his way home, envisioning the surprise on Catherine's face. 

When he arrived in Turpin's Manor, his butler's face, shocked and perplex, was priceless, but the man was wise enough not to pipe a word. 

But once in his office, the cucurbitacea sitting on his desk, he felt somewhat fatuous. What was he meant to do know ? He had no idea. Should he call Catherine, present it to her ? After a long moment spent to deliberate what to do, he summoned the head maid. Anne had to bit her lips to prevent a laugh from escaping her mouth at the sight of her master in front of that humongous, horrendous, orange pumpkin. 

"It's for Catherine," he said, his voice cold.

"Of course, my lord," said Anne with a smile, staring at the monstrosity before adding, "But I'm not certain the young lady would appreciate it for supper. Her taste are as picky as yours, my lord."

"The old goat" thought Richard. She was teasing him without even trying to hide it. He throw her a cold look, one who could have made shiver everybody else but not her. Anne remained unperturbed, her years of service had accustomed her to his change of mood.

"Anne, if you value your position here and if you want to have a roof above your head tomorrow, refrain from testing my patience,' he warned. 

Anne's face softened, her tone now thoughtful.

"My lord, it is thoughtfull of you, but I'm afraid Catherine doesn't know what Halloween is. I overheard the young lady talking with her tutor, Mister Brandon this afternoon and she doesn't know what was the celebration about. She even admited never having eaten such deliciousness as sweets before living with us."

This revelation only confirmed what Richard already suspected.

"However, Mister Brandon offered her a book about Sahmain and she seems to like it, even though she doesn't understand everything. Maybe, my lord, could you read it with her ?" she suggested wisely.

Richard thought for a moment. It seemed insane to him, but he suddenly remembered all those times he had asked his mother to read him a story, to comfort him after his father had finished what he called "a disciplinarian lesson" with him, and the disappointment every time she refused. He had never tasted the simple comfort of his mother's arms and when she spoke to him, it was always reverently, as if he was just a stranger to her.

He didn't really know what he wanted from his fragile relationship with Catherine, but he knew she was so alone and lost in that big mansion and he had heard her crying a few nights ago. When the governess had come to comfort her, she had told her that she missed her mother and he was sure that Elena was the kind of mother who told stories.

After all, she had played a good trick on him when she had abandoned him overnight without explanation so that he found himself six years later with a daughter he didn't even know he had.

"Yes, maybe," he finally said. "But what about the pumpkin ? Apparently, we need a pumpkin. Parents were buying them left and right".

Anne's lips twitched as she held back another smile.

"You might carve it with her, my lord," she suggested.

Richard frowned, feeling utterly lost and he didn't like the feeling. He had never felt like that since he had left the cursed house where he had grown up. Yet, the arrival of Catherine in his life had begun to alter his perspectives and certainties.

"Well, she'll do that tomorrow with the help of..."

"No," she cut him off, "you should do that with her. I'm sure the little mistress will be delighted."

In which odd and frivolous activity Turpin had just engaged himself ? Yet, he was determinated to surprise the little girl. She never asked for anything and was always so please with everything one's would be willing to give her that he could do that for her. 

Therefore, on Saturday, when he came back from the Court in the beginning of the afternoon, he asked Catherine was brought to him.

"Father ?" asked coyly the little girl, while she entered the parlour.

"Catherine, dear daughter," said Turpin, his tone softened at the view of the shy child, "I have a surprise for you."

Her eyes was already glimmering with joy. No one could be blessed with a more grateful child than him and it made him smile. A discreet smile, nothing to ostentatious. He was Richard Turpin, after all. He asked Catherine to follow him to the backyard, where the pumpkin was waiting for them on a wood table.

"A pumpkin ?" asked Catherine, uncredulous.

Turpin didn't know if he was amused or saddened with her innocence, while the little girl didn't know what she should do with it. Did her father expect her to learn to cook ?

Taking pity on his daughter incomphrension, he explained her it was for Halloween. She smiled so widely that it could have been hurting.

"I do not know a lot about it," she confessed shyly, "mom was never home on this day and she didn't want to read me book about it because it was about ghost and she was worried I couldn't sleep at night," she rambled, lowering her head.

It was probably wise from Elena, thought Richard. Catherine was afraid of the dark, ghost stories would have kept her up all the night, making her startled at the smallest noise. And it was better if she didn't know anything about the sweets things as her mother knew perfectly well she couldn't afford such a frivolous expenditure when her daughter needed real food in her stomach. 

"Well, it goes without saying that we're going to celebrate it like the important people we are, not like slum dwellers. That means no stupid door-knocking," he said sternly.

"Why would we do door-knocking ?" Catherine asked innocently.

Good. Very good. The girl didn't know anything about that stupid custom from the America. It was his chance to make up his own tradition by teaching her some history about the real origin of the celebration while doing it like civilised people.

They still could carve the pumpkin if it could amused her, but she wouldn't know anything about that silly door-to-door sweet or threat thing. Catherine wouldn't be like those foolish children. She would learn to celebrate it like a proper lady, with etiquette. 

"Are we going to eat sweets, father ?" she asked with wide, expectant eyes. 

Of course, she knew about the sweets, thanks to Mister Brandon. 

"Of course my dear, we will have some sweets, and probably a cake."

Her eyes twinkled with pleasure. There was nothing she liked more than being spoiled with a cake. It didn't happen often, Richard wanted her to eat proper food to gain some strengths, she had it maybe twice a month and it was always the best day of her life. It was the only moment her governess or Turpin himself didn't have to fight with her to make her finish her plate as she knew the little treat was waiting for her after her meal.

She always took her time to savor each bite of her slice of cake. When she was really well-behaved, which means almost all the time, she could have two slices and another one for the breakfast.

"Father, could you read me a book about it ? Mister Brandon gifted me with one but it didn't talk about ghost."

Richard chuckled, yet he obliged her, leading her to the library. He found the most suitable books for her and explained her why those pagan celebration was an abomination, yet still less than this one coming from America and called Halloween, making Catherine giggled more than once with his theatric, yet engaging talking. 

When the night of Halloween arrived, the pumpkin, carved by the butler and a bunch of patient servants, was troning proudly on the little table of the parlour, a candle into it. As promised, Catherine had received sweets and a delicious chocolate cake for the dessert. She had thanks several time Richard for it, so many times that it had started to annoy him, even though far deep inside him, he felt a slight ounce of happiness to have made her smile the whole day. 

He was now reading to her while she looked at the flickering candle inside the pumpkin with amusement, until he saw her yawned for the fifth time in less than ten minutes.

"I think it is time for you to go to bed," he said firmly.

"Oh, father, please, a little bit more," she begged.

"No," said Richard unyielding, "it's time for the young well-behaved lady you are to go to bed. Behave child and you'll get more of that cake tomorrow."

"Is it a promise ?" she asked hopeful.

Richard sighed, sligthly amused that it only took a cake to make her obey. 

"I promise, now go on, I'm going to fetch your maid," he said, moving towards the rope which allowed the servants to be called.

"Father...," started Catherine, but then clamed up suddenly.

He raised an eyebrow, waving his hand to incite her to continue.

"May I... May I..." she stuttered.

Despite his severe demeanor, he gave her an encouraging look to make her ask what she had on her mind.

"May I ask you to be the one who help me to go to bed," she finally managed to said in such a whisper that Richard had to thank his good ears to have understood her.

Richard looked at her for a moment, but the child kept her eyes down, her cheeks slightly red from daring to ask him such a request.

Touched more than he would have admitted, Richard took her small hand in his. He didn't really like physical contact, probably because the only physical contact he knew as a child was always made to hurt him, but for her, for his daughter, he was willing to make an effort.

"It will be my pleasure," he answered solemnly.

He kept his composure, but inside, his heart had pumped a little bit faster when she looked up at him with the brightest smile he had ever seen. Richard wasn't a demonstrative man, he was authoritative and didn't let room for a lot of goofiness, therefore he knew creating a link with his daughter, even though it had become his desire before he had realised that, would be complicated. Yet, this mere request was like a balm in his many scares owe to a sad childhood and uncaring parents, then by the harsh world he was used to living in. 

He awkwardly tucked her in her bed, surrounding her with her plush animals at her demand, almost drowning her under them. 

"Isn't it suffocating to sleep like that ?" he asked with a flicker of amusment in his eyes at seeing her engulfed by all the plushes. 

"No, I feel safer," she said with a yawn.

"Well, then good night."

He gently kissed her forehead, ready to take his leave, but Catherine held him back by grabbing his hand in a flourish. He arched his eyebrows, questionning her silently.

"Thank you, father. For today. I am happy to have spend my first Halloween with you."

Richard, amazed, was taken aback with her innocent sincerity. It only took a child to make him lost his ability to speak. His heart swelled with a strange feeling he hadn't felt since... well, maybe never to be true. He didn't have time to respond that her hand faltered away as she felt asleep. Richard stood up, leading towards the door, but before closing it, he glimpsed fondly at her one last time.

"Well... You are more than welcome, daughter of mine."

[sayafics]

Cherry Season - Part 2

Sorry for the long wait, guys, but I do hope you enjoy part 2 (I have plans for a part 3👀).

Warnings: smut, public teasing

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Rick hadn't found Valerie that day. He hadn't seen her wandering about the camp either. Not the next day, or the one after.

A week flew by, and Rick's stomach filled with lead as the girl he found himself craving escaped his sights with ease. He had tried to seek her out, but it seemed she was much better at hiding than he would have liked.

Dread burrowed under his skin, a quiet voice growing louder inside his head - it was his actions that must have scared her away.

Perhaps she didn't feel the same way he did, but did not know how to deny him.

Perhaps she grew bored of him and found entertainment elsewhere - Lori had done that, and the betrayal still sat bitter upon him tongue.

Rick wasn't a fool - he had heard the hushed rumours throughout the camp as they spoke of Valerie's private shooting lessons with Shane whenever Rick tried to seek her out. The whispers would cause him to clench his jaw in frustration, hands fisted, and brows furrowed as envy festered in his chest.

It did not go unnoticed by him that despite every session Shane had claimed they left to go practice, the makeshift shooting range remained empty.

Rick found himself growing restless, hands twitching as anger began to bubble in place of envy, where resentment grew in place of sadness. Such sinister feelings that began to bubble over in this moment now.

***

It had been a while since the camp had come into Hershel's home to dine with him and his family - the first time had already been so awkward, and this was much the same.

Truth be told, this was Maggie's idea more than anyone else's. Valerie's solemn mood had not gone unnoticed by her, nor did Valerie's every attempt to escape Rick's line of vision or Shane's incessant presence, that loomed around the girl she considered a younger sister.

Maggie had been worried Valerie and Rick had a falling out, and it was whatever argument they had out that caused the girl to shy away from the presence of others and caused Shane to seek her out instead.

Still, something did not sit right with Maggie. The idea that one of her baby sisters was out there with an openly aggressive and violent man, who would rather wave around his gun than use his words, had her on edge.

She hoped a dinner like this would force Valerie and Rick to talk, to resolve the issues they had, and to become friends again. Because Maggie was sure of one thing - she trusted Rick much more than Shane.

Of course, she didn't know the true extent of the feelings the pair held for each other, but even a blind person could have felt the bond the two had shared - the trust and friendship, the loyalty and kindness. All of which had disappeared in the blink of an eye, and Rick could not figure out why.

***

At dinner, the clattering of utensils being laid out sounded sharply throughout the room. Everyone sat stiff upon their chairs as more and more people filed in through the doors.

Rick was one of the last to step in, Glenn and Shane only paces behind him.

He looked upon the room, their slowed pace giving him the barest of moments to think as he searched across the table frantically.

It seemed there was no extra table placed today; instead, everyone sat clustered around a single, long, oaken table with falsely mustered smiles and polite nods.

There were three seats left open - one between Lori and Dale, the other between Maggie and Beth, and the last sat between Patricia and Valerie. It was clear who Maggie was saving her chair for, and it was also clear who Lori hoped would sit in the one she had saved.

Some part of Rick hoped Valerie had saved that seat for him, but from the way her shoulders stiffened and eyes widened at the sight of him, he had a sinking feeling that was not the case.

Valerie looked as beautiful as ever, but she also looked tired. Her hair that fell in shiny curls was pulled back into a messy ponytail, her eyes that shone with kindred glee seemed dull as they were sunken down with bags that were a sign she had not been sleeping, her body that she would adorn in the brightest and prettiest dresses sat covered with a hefty jumper and thick trousers.

This was not the girl he had met when he came to the farm, this was not the girl who he kissed and fucked, this was not the girl who begged him for more and held him against her like she didn't need anything else.

This was not his Valerie.

Had he done this to her?

Had he broken something within her and not realised all this time?

Rick could hear Shane's gruelling voice grow clearer as he drew closer, and in those moments, Rick did not hesitate for a beat.

Rick would get the answers to his nagging questions, and if he was truly as guilty as he felt, he would punish himself as she saw fit. He would take his life if it gave her a shred of happiness - he would have offered it to her freely, if his son had not been sitting only a few seats away.

Rick marched with determination, ignoring Lori's call for him as he rounded occupied chairs and sat heavily upon the chair on Valerie's right - it creaked under his weight, and he pulled himself closer to the table.

The gap was tight, his arm pressed against Valerie's as he shuffled closer to her under the guise of giving Patricia more space - in doing so, his thigh pressed flush against her own.

He could see how she tensed at his touch, and his heart dropped at the sight. Valerie began to pick at the skin around her nails, darting eyes meeting the vicious glare of Shane that promised nothing but hurt as he sat next to Lori in a huff.

A warm hand enclosed over her fumbling fingers, and she just about managed to repress a flinch.

Valerie looked down at her lap, thinking she would find Maggie's comforting embrace - instead, it was Rick's hands, skin calloused and rough, that held her hands gently. His touch was warm and kind, something that almost seemed foreign now.

Valerie could almost feel the tears that stung her eyes, and she took a deep breath, hoping neither Rick or Maggie would notice. One glance across the table was enough for her to know Shane did - he had seen enough of them.

Valerie couldn't help but relax under Rick's touch, couldn't help but admire him as subtly as she could - the way his curls brushed against his forehead, the way his jumper sat snug against his shoulders, the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips in a nervous twitch. She felt her body burn at the sight of him, sing at the feel of him - his scent, his touch, his voice.

His voice.

Oh, how she had missed the sound.

It had only been a week, and yet it felt like years had passed by being stuck in the grasp of a beast she could not escape.

"Hey, sweetheart," his voice rang low as bowls of food were passed around, and small chatter broke out across the table after a quiet prayer. His words were almost cautious, as if testing to see her reaction. The rasp of his voice sent a shudder through her.

It seemed Rick had mistaken her shudder as an act of repulsion, his face falling as his grip loosened.

Valerie found she did not care that Shane's heated stare sat fixed upon her, she found that she did not care if Maggie happened to glance her way and noticed or that Hershel sat only a few breaths away.

As Rick's hand came to rest on the table, Valerie threw hers atop is a rush, intertwining their fingers to tug the limb back into her lap and away from any eager eyes.

Valerie was almost sure she could hear Shane's growling breaths from across the table, but when Rick's eyes brightened at her reciprocation and he tightened his fingers around her own, she found her fear of him dwelling.

She was sure she would pay for such an act of disobedience after, but she would find comfort in it now.

***

That day in the woods, Shane had taken a part of her she would never get back.

He hadn't hurt her in the way she thought he would have - he wasn't a rapist, was what he had said. He was a good man, and he could be a good husband, a good father was what Shane had claimed.

But he had kissed her when she didn't want it, touched her where she didn't want him to - he ignored her begging and her pleas, he groped and petted and licked and kissed whereever he pleased.

And the days after that incident, Shane found that he did not want to stop doing so. At least not until Valerie could realise that Shane was telling the truth - Valerie had to believe him, Shane wasn't a liar. He was a good man. He is.

He is sure of it.

She would agree with him one day. She would agree with him soon. And when she did, he would take that final piece of her, and she would no longer belong to Rick, and Rick would no longer want her.

***

"Hi, Rick."

Valerie's grip tightened as the words passed her lips like a confession - she stared up at his blue eyes, and it was almost like staring into the vast and endless sky. Looking into the glowing hues of blue, an almost child-like whisper came forth in Valerie's mind - wishing she was a bird so she could fly free. Or perhaps a fish, and his eyes were the sea, and she could swim endlessly.

Something within his eyes darkens as his name rolls off her tongue, and pride swells inside his chest as he catches Shane and Lori in his peripheral vision, simmering with fury. He almost laughed. Almost.

Rick turned his attention to his plate, feigning interest in the food and offering compliments even though he would rather be tasting something much more desirable.

The table continued in its chatter, the volume growing louder as Glenn and Dale shared laughs across the table, and T-Dog dove into stories of his life before the dead began to walk. Bubbles of laughter and snorting cluttered around the table, and the home they all sat in almost felt warm and full of life, and it was as though, for just one moment, everyone was able to forget all their losses and breathe freely.

Valerie watched with curious eyes as Jimmy loaded Beth's plate with food, refilling her cup with a broad grin upon his face. There was a faint smile upon her lips, watching Beth be doted upon. Beth met her eyes, ones full of longing and hope for something similar, with a sparkling smile as though she knew something Valerie didn't.

A breath of warm air brushed against her cheek, and Valerie flinched as Beth tried to hide her stifled giggles with a mouthful of potatoes.

Valerie froze with a forkful of potatoes sat right upon her tongue, and Rick's rasped words sent chills down her spine as her grip on the cutlery tightened.

"Kinda disappointed, y'know. Mm, thought you'd come find me by now, turns out I couldn't even find you."

Valerie slid the fork from her mouth, chewing her food slowly as Rick leaned back and watched her with expectation set in his gaze. Everyone else around them seemed oblivious to the growing tension between them, except Beth, who corralled her father into focusing upon her instead.

Rick's hand placed itself upon her thigh. She was able to feel its warmth through her trousers, and she suppressed a shiver at the heavy weight of it. His fingers traced circles almost absent-mindedly, but there was a soft smirk upon his face as he took deliberately slow sips from his glass of water - "m'ybe you can make it up to me," his voice lowered into a whipser as he drifted closer towards her, mindful of the proximity of others.

"Do you wanna do that, sweetheart? You want me to make you cum with everyone watching? Wouldn't be the first time you came on this table, would it?"

Valerie's eyes almost widened in disbelief - it was as though Rick had simply forgotten all of which had made him angry and envious. It was as though he forgot that the man who had stolen her away from him sat opposite them with a knife in his hand and a gun in his pocket.

Valerie was almost too fearful to respond, terrified if Shane caught onto their acts of mischief he would unleash chaos amongst them all.

She was his. That was what Shane had said that day in the woods. She belonged to him, she was his prize for surviving. Not Rick's.

So why was it that her body burned and flushed at his words? Why was it that his insinuations had her shuffling upon her chair as her thighs twitched in anticipation?

Why is it that a growing ache within her begged for Rick's touch?

Perhaps it was because she had gone too long without it. She had gone too long without being herself, and without her pretty and pliant self on display for all to see that she feared Rick would have lost interest.

But as a hesitant hand began to drag Rick's patienly waiting one from her thigh to her clothed cunt, watching the way his eyes darkened and his breath halted as her warmth could be felt from even outside her trousers, she found herself hopeful it was not simply her looks he had been enamoured by.

"Good girl," his voice was a deep rasp as he readjusted himself lower upon his seat to ease the discomfort of his hardening cock.

With the table as their guise, Rick's fumbling hand was hidden from sight as he kept his face passive and contributed to conversations when he was called upon.

He kept his movements slow as he slipped his fingers underneath her waistband, trembling fingers tracing every inch of her he could find as his skin flushed a dark crimson at the feel of her supple flesh.

No one paid much mind to the flustered cop as he almost blanched when his fingers met Valerie's bare mound when he had expected panties to be hidden underneath.

Such a thought brought back the memory of the one he had stolen from the girl during their first night together - he remembers wrapping it around his aching cock as he fisted himself - harsh and rough - in the days he could not find his dearest Valerie.

As his fingers slipped lower, brushing across the sensitive flesh and tracing her twitching clit before circling her entrance that had been neglected for a time Rick believed was far too long.

Valerie gasped a quiet breath, hips rocking into his teasing touch without much afterthought. It was then Rick inched his hand away from her aching, puffy cunt. She would do anything for more - she would protest aloud for all to hear if she must.

But she kept mum, fearful of the humiliation she would face if her daring ventures were to become known to all. Instead, she slipped a free hand down past her waistband, brushing against Rick's own in a desperate attempt to satiate the fire burning within her.

She tried to keep her face expressionless, eyes focused intensely upon her plate as Rick's finger joined her own to scribble messy patterns upon her pretty clit. She ground herself against the palm of his hand as subtley as she could, eyes almost ready to roll back as she coughed lightly to hold back jerky whimpers.

Rick's fingers dipped into the wetness that seeped from her weeping cunt, dragging the precious cream she had leaked over her clit to provide more stimulation. He sped up his movements, remaining still upon his seat so as to not arouse suspicion.

Valerie shovelled food down her throat, the cutlery passing much deeper into her mouth than appropriate as she found herself imagining his thick and heavy member in its place.

Her hips almost lifted from the chair as she inched closer towards the end of the chair, watching with wide eyes at those who continued to eat and converse unknowingly beside them.

Her grip on the fork tightened, and she forced her eyes to remain open as she bit her tongue to hold back any sounds that wanted to force their way through.

God, she was so close.

Fuck.

Her hand wrapped around his wrist, nails digging into the flesh, leaving marks in its wake as tears stung her eyes from pure stimulation.

And then, nothing.

Her breath caught in her throat, and a sinking feeling of desperation weighed heavily upon her as she turned to Rick in betrayal.

Rick watched her with amusement, his cock hardening further at the sight of her needy pouts and subtle panting. His hand left her sweats, a final tap upon her bare cunt that resounded as a quiet and wet slap, causing her to shudder as she tried to hold back her whines of disappointment.

Rick glanced around the table, a proud smirk upon his face as he caught Shane's eyes.

Shane looked at the man with barely concealed fury, trembling with anger upon his seat as his food remained untouched, but the cutlery creaked beneath his unrelenting grip.

His smirk broadened into a grin, a challenge in his eyes as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked off Valerie's wetness with pride. He almost laughed as Shane continued to bristle, removing his fingers to return his hand under Valerie's clothes and wipe his saliva across her twitching flesh.

Valerie glanced between the pair as she darkened with a heady flush, the sight of Rick's unabashed claim causing a steady stream of wetness to coat her inner thighs as she squirmed upon her seat.

Her hands found his arm again, holding it tight as she forced herself to stay still upon her chair so as not to gather more attention.

She looked up at him with hunger in her eyes, hoping they would translate all that her whines could not at this moment.

Rick leaned closer, uncaring of watchful eyes as he tutted quietly into her ear.

"I'll tell you what baby," fingers dipping under her waistband to hover over her aching cunt, "you want me to finish what you started, you leave your bedroom door unlocked tonight, hm?"

He looked at her with expectant eyes, and she found herself nodding vigorously is ascent.

"What was that? Use your words, sweetheart."

"Yes," a whispered whine escaped her lipds as her eyes darted around to ensure all were too occupied to eavesdrop, "yes please, Rick."

"Good girl," with that, he tapped a parting goodbye to her soaked cunt, relishing in the way her hips canted towards his hand. He brought his hand to his own lap now, feigning innocence to all that had just occured.

Perhaps it was his non-chalance or the way he had forgiven her so quickly, but a daring spark came alight within her, and she felt a small smile tug upon her lips.

She leaned over Rick, peering around his broad chest in pretence of trying to seek the gaze of her father. In doing so, she created the perfect opportunity to slip her hands into his lap, or more precisely upon the hardened buldge he sought to hide.

She ground her palm against it, relishing in the way his hips jumped up to meet her touch.

"Papa, can you pass me the potato salad?"

There was a pout on her lips, but her eyes sparkled with mischief as her hands squeezed Rick's cock - he could feel himself leak pre-cum from within his jeans, praying no wet spot would be found when he stood from the table.

His hand came around her wrist, gripping them tightly to stop her ministrations. She only rubbed against his weeping cock harder, as she leaned foward to take the bowl from her father's hand with a spare hand.

As she took her seat again, her hand never left his twitching member and she took care to lean into his ears as she spoke in a tantalising whine, "maybe I can make you cum again too."

Fuck.

Rick ground his teeth, his body heating and his cock stiffening uncomfortably, as he imagined the girl upon her knees with his cock stuffed inside her mouth and her hands playing with the parts of him that were too long to fit into the warmth of her.

Just as he had done, she removed her hands in feigned innocence, a pleasant smile upon her face as the images of Shane slipped from her mind and the fantasies of Rick took their place.

***

Valerie escaped his grasp after dinner, dirty promises being whispered into Rick's ears as she manoeuvred around the man to collect plates and cups. Rick watched her with eager eyes, his hands reaching for her every time he thought it was safe enough.

She stood at the sink now. Most had vacated the kitchen apart from Rick, who watched the girl quietly from his place at the table.

He stood, the chair creaking as it scrapes across the wooden floor - he watched as she tensed at the sounds, an excited tremble working its way down her spine as she tried not to peer over her shoulder.

He came behind her, hands tightening upon her hips as he dragged her rump against his stiffened cock. He ground his hips into her covered flesh, quiet groans escaping his lips as he spoke, "shit, you feel that baby. You feel what you're doing to me. Fuck, I need you baby."

The plate in her hand clattered as it fell into the sink, her soapy hands gripping the edge of the sink as a whine escaped her throat and she pushed back into his hardness.

"Fuck, you want it just as bad, don't you? Such a desperate little girl."

"Rick, please."

Her whines were tinged with desperation as her cold and wet hands found his hands to tug under her jumper and towards her breasts. Rick pulled her closer, grinding against her as he massaged the tender flesh of her breasts.

Her head tilted back to rest against his shoulders, her breaths leaving her in harsh pants, "more- wan' more."

Rick couldn't think straight, his head was heavy with lust and he simply prayed no one would walk in on them. He turned her roughly to face him, hands tight upon her waist as he heaved her upon the counter and dragged her towards the edge.

Fuck, he would take her right here if he could.

But it was too early, and he didn't want any wandering eyes to see Valerie so vulnerable. No that was just for him.

At this height, her weepy cunt could grind into his hardened member with ease. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she tugged him closer, the two rubbing against each other like they were teenagers who had just discovered sex.

Her hips canted up to meet his frenzied thrusts, low moans escaping her mouth as she tried to stay quiet.

Rick's lips found her own, groaning into the pliant flesh as he bit her lip and slipped in his tongue.

Fuck, it had been too long.

This was what he had needed all this time, all he had wanted.

He began to trail kisses upon her neck, biting and marking the flesh an array of reds and pinks as they ground against each other faster, the two of them so close to climax they grew dizzy at the sensation.

"Val!"

The pair froze, panting and wide-eyed as they searched around them for the owner of the voice.

"Valerie!"

It was coming from upstairs - Maggie.

"Ye-" Valerie's voice cracked, rough and raw as her body continued to tremble in Rick's grip who continued his movements in slow ministrations as he realised they had not been caught yet.

His head sat upon her covered breasts, mouthing them through her jumper and biting them harshly, making Valerie jump in her place as her cunt burned with desire.

Valerie cleared her throat, "yeah, Mags?"

Her voice sounded across the hallway, and she waited quietly for a response, hands petting through his curls and tugging them as Rick groaned quitely into her.

"Bring me a glass o' orange juice after y're done, please!"

Valerie rolled her eyes, but she guessed she should be pleased Maggie didn't come down to get it herself and catch them in the act.

"Okay!"

She huffed a breath of disappointment, and Rick chucked quietly as he shifted himself into the crook of her neck, "I'll tell you what, sweetheart - I gotta put Carl to bed, so why don't you finish up here and get pretty for me, yeah? Then I can fuck you nice and good, and no one can disturb us, hm?"

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're more desperate than me," there was a teasing smile upon her face.

Rick grinned, "maybe I am."

***

Valerie was in her room, clothes strewn across the room as she tried to find an outfit she knew Rick would like.

She almost beamed with excitement when she found what she was looking for - a pair of white cotton lingerie with tiny cherries printed across the material.

He would go crazy for this.

Valerie threw her clothes back into the closet in a frenzy before turning towards her full-length mirror. She stripped in front of her reflection, an eager grin upon her face.

One which fell as she looked at the sight of her body.

Scratches and bites that did not come from Rick, bruises and redness that did not come from passionate sex.

Her gut roiled in worry, terrified of what Rick would think when he saw the state of her flesh.

Would he think her to be used and worn out? Would he discard her with ease?

That was what Shane said he would've done, but there wasn't much women left in the world so he would take what he could get. And he thought he could take her.

Her eyes burned at the sight of her marred flesh, doubt colouring her features, and she worried her lower lip with her teeth.

She was thinking about stopping tonight altogether, saying no to Rick until the bruises and marks and faded and healed.

But she craved his touch. She needed it just as much as he did.

Fuck, what was she going to do?

It seemed she didn't have much time to think. A flurry of knocks sounded against her door before it peeled open.

Valerie felt her heart sink at the possibility it could be Rick, or even worse - Shane.

Shane had been so angry during the dinner, and she wouldn't be surprised if he had caught on to their antics either.

God, she hoped it was not him.

Instead, it was Glenn's head, which poked through the gap, his sentence falling short as his eyes widened in shock - "hey, Mags is loo-"

His face grew pale, not only because he had walked in on Maggie's little sister half-dressed but also because of the marks that littered her torso and her thighs.

His head shrunk back from the gap, glancing along the corridor before he threw himself into the room. Glenn shut the door behind him, his words panicked as he watched her with something akin to pity.

"What the- shit, Valerie, what the hell happened to you?"

Valerie could only stare at him with her mouth agape, unsure of what to do as dread and terror began to build.

"Valerie? Val-" he drew closer towards her, stopping only when he saw her flinch. He threw his hands up in placation, "hey, Valerie. C'mon, this is important. Who did this to you?"

Her eyes began to water, tears falling in steady streams as she shakes her head in panic, "no. No. No, Glenn you can't tell anyone."

Glenn tilts his head in confusion, "that doesn't answer my question - Valerie, those bruises are recent. As in, last-few-days recent. Who did this?"

Her breaths came out in stuttered pants, "I can't tell you."

"Hey," his voice softened as he watched her tremble with fear and doubt, "Yes, you can. You gotta tell me who did this, Val. We gotta tell Maggie. We gotta tell someone. Someone hurt you, Valerie. Someone in this camp."

"You don't know that," her voice cracked in protest, "you don't know who did it, and you can't tell anyone. Especially not Maggie."

Glenn paced around the room in distress, hands rubbing down his face as he looked frantically across the space. He found a blanket upon the bed, walking towards it and grabbing it as he made his way back to Valerie.

"Valerie, come on, you have to tell me. Who did this to you?"

She sniffled quietly, head shaking 'no' as she looked towards the ground. Her body heated in humiliation as an ache festered in her throat.

Glenn sighed quietly, throwing the blanket around her shoulders and covering the girl before he wrapped his arms around her.

It seems that was all it took to break the dam. Heavy and broken sobs sounded through the room as she held Glenn in a tight embrace.

"Please don't tell Maggie. She can't know."

"She should know Val, she can help you."

"No," her voice was tight, eyes almost manic as she pulled back from him, "no. Please. I can handle it. I've already handled it. I promise."

Valerie knew her words were a lie, but Glenn didn't need to know that.

"Promise me you won't tell Maggie."

Glenn looked at the girl in disbelief, "you can't ask me to do that, Valerie. Not when we both know I saw those bruises on you..."

"Glenn, please. I swear, I'll fix it. I'll make him stop, just don't tell Maggie."

"Him? Who is he? It's someone on camp, right?"

She just stared at his with silent desperation, hands holding the blanket tight to her body as she waited for him to concede.

He sighed, hands rubbing his jaw in frustration, "fine. I won't tell Maggie, I promise. But if this doesn't stop - if he doesn't stop, you come to me. And you tell me."

She nodded, tears falling with renewed vigour as whispered 'thank you's slipped past her lips.

"You gotta promise me, Val." In this moment, Glenn looked much older than he truly was, burdened by secrets and violence he was no clue how to cope with.

"I promise," a watery smile tugged across her face as she wiped her tears with the blanket in her grasp.

Glenn pressed a brotherly kiss upon her head and gave the girl a parting hug.

When he closed the door behind him, he felt his heart weigh heavy with dread. He walked down the corridor, opening Maggie's door to step inside.

"Hey, where's Val?"

Glenn hesitated for a moment, the truth sitting upon the tip of his tongue.

But he promised.

"Sorry, Mags. She was already asleep."

"Oh," Maggie frowned, "I've been worried about her, you know. She's quieter than normal."

Glenn could feel guilt welling in his throat as he nodded, "I'm sorry. Look, I promised Rick I would help him with something before we went to sleep, you don't mind-"

"No, of course not. Go, help your camp." She gave him an indulgent smile, and it helped ease the guilt in his soul.

He left the house promptly, barraging his way through the camp as he found Dale and Rick by a waning fire, deep in conversation.

Rick looked antsy and restless, eyes darting towards the house Glenn left in the distance.

Valerie had made him promise not to tell Maggie, but Rick? Rick was their camp's leader, and someone in the camp had hurt Valerie. If anyone could help, it would be him.

And Glenn hadn't promised to hide the truth from Rick.

There was a grave look upon Glenn's face, and Rick felt something cold wash over him as Glenn beckoned him over.

"Everything good, Glenn?"

Glenn frowned, head turned downwards as a hand came to rub at the back of his neck.

"It's about Valerie."

Rick's heart sank, worry flowing over in crashing waves as he stood straighter in alarm.

"Is she okay?"

It was all he could think to ask - is she okay? Is she alive?

"Something happened to Valerie, Rick. Someone hurt her. Someone in our camp."

Rick felt his heart ache as anger bubbled within him, his limbs trembling as his jaw twitched, his head twisting from one side to another and unfiltered rage poured within him from the depths of hell below.

"Who?"

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

From the Ashes Pt. 41

Pairing(s): Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader, one-sided!Jaime Lannister x Lannister!Reader, Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister

Warnings: slow burn fic, changing povs, King's Landing POV

Words: 2219

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 3.5  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40

Book Two of Dārilaros hen ōrbar se perzys (Heir of Ash and Fire)

Varys scurried in the shadows as he occasionally glanced over his shoulder. The city streets were filled with rioters and broken glass. Had he not known all the ins and outs of the city, Varys would surely have succumbed to the mob frenzy. Once they saw his fine clothes, they would know he held an important position in life.

Vocally thanking the gods when he finally made it safely back in the Red Keep, Varys had to take a deep breath before continuing on his ay to the Small Council. In Doing so he passed by the towering figure of the Iron Throne. It was cast in an orange hue from the setting sun.

A small handing grabbing at his robes made his heart leap all the way to his throat. One of his little birds looked up at him with hungry eyes and much to tell.

Checking both ends of the corridor, he leans down to listen to the music his bird weaved. Such valuable information. What could this all mean for Westeros? Varys couldn’t believe that the crazy young girl Thalina had entrusted him with a dragon egg! She had outwitted the Spider and managed to keep the secret.

Thanking the child, he hurried to his original destination. A chamber off to the side of the Throne Room sat the King’s Small Council. They were considered the most powerful men in Westeros besides the king himself. Most times they made decisions when Aerys was incapacitated. The Mad King never made their work easy, but this was getting out of hand. Inside, Varys was enveloped by arguing from two of his colleagues while the others could only hold their head in their hands. At least the yelling in the chambers didn’t compare to the shouts and hollers that shook the earth outside. Owen Merryweather, Hand of the King since Tywin Lannister’s resignation, just stared into his stem of wine. Grand Maestor Pycelle was attempting to hold. His own against Gerold Hightower.

“You would dare even utter such treasonous words?!” Pycelle’s old voice trembled as did the heavy skin around his neck.

Ser Gerold, dark circles under his eyes for being awake two consecutive days in a row, slammed his hands on the great oaken table. “The king is treasonous for how he is treating his people, us included. He is completely gone, Pycelle.” He shakes his head and momentarily, Varys regrets having taken Ser Barristan away from him at such a time. The City Guard’s number was vanishing fast as rioters grew emboldened enough to drive their blades into their armor. His own Kingsguard brothers were losing their resolve.

The maestor was old and set in his ways. After decades of being strictly loyal to whoever was in power, of course Pycelle would take slight to anyone who spoke ill of his king. He must have known though the harm it was to keep Aerys on the throne.

Lord Velaryon, the Master of Ships, was the only one to take notice of Varys silently slipping in. “You’re late.”

Hightower and Pycelle stopped and turned to the eunuch who hadn’t even made it to his seat.

“Forgive me. The streets are hectic and difficult to maneuver around.” Varys took out his handkerchief and dabbed his brow.

Hearing that, Ser Gerold stares pointedly at Pycelle. “Not even the Spider can move around in the city. We need to do something about Aerys.”

Maester’s chains clinking together as Pycelle trembled, he pushes himself away from the table. “I will not hear it.”

“Grand Maester Pycelle, Hightower is right.” Lord Owen sighed now that things had quiet down. “As the Hand of the King, I don’t like the idea of ripping Aerys from the throne. The people are rioting. If we don’t do something, then all of our heads will join Aerys’.”

“You should understand self-preservation better than anyone.” Gerold folded his arms in front of his chest, sounding glad that finally someone was siding with him.

Pycelle’s sallow cheeks beam bright with indignation. He sputters, stumbling to come up with a reply but Varys’ hand on his shoulder tells him it would be best to be silent.

“It’s true, my friend. We will all die if we turn our gaze away again. The fire mages have lost another acolyte in the mass production of wildfire that Aerys ordered them to manufacture. Now some are even being targeted by civilians.” Varys managed to get the Grand Maester to sit back down. He folded his hands into his sleeves as he moves to his chair.

Qarlton Chelsted, the Master of Coin, tented his fingers in thought. “If we did manage to remove Aerys, what then? King’s Landing will still be vulnerable against Rhaegar once he finds out.”

“Perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad thing. Prince Rhaegar would be a great improvement.” Varys comments with a small smile. “We’ve all been around him as he has grown into a fine young man. We know him. He’s nothing like Aerys.”

“Aerys wasn’t always like this, remember.” Pointed out Pycelle. “Once upon a time he used to be an aspirational young man much like Rhaegar until the Targaryen Madness ate away at his mind. Then we’ll wind up in the same situation we’re in now.”

“That is a great possibility.” Varys concedes. “But Rhaegar won’t be alone in ruling the Seven Kingdoms.”

“How so?”

It came as no surprise the look of confusion each member of the council had on their face when Varys brought up Rhaegar’s young wife. They had probably let whatever memory they had of her fade away. She had been an unremarkable girl, Rhaegar’s little mouse in the capital, but in Essos she was making a name for herself. All of what he told the Council might have sounded like a fable, Varys had acknowledged this when he decided to share with them the news he just received. He wasn’t sure which part was more shocking; the fact that the girl was actually alive and survived the fire, or the fact that she had successfully hatched a live dragon.

They tried to argue with him, point out faults in his story when they could. No man in that room truly trusted one another. In King’s Landing it was dangerous and foolish to trust anyone really. But the truth of the matter was that no one did find the remains of (y/n). The charred bones of her handmaiden had met them at the door along with ash and smoke. Only wildfire flames were known to disintegrate even bones, but this had been a normal fire. Where the fire had originated from was still unknown, the matter having been put aside the moment Rhaegar started the war.

Hightower stared at his roughened knuckles. “That would explain where Jaime went.” He couldn’t bring himself to use Jaime’s title of Ser. No matter what reason, Jaime should have never deserted his post. He saws a part of the Kingsguard and it was his duty to attend to the king, not his younger sister. Ser Gerold couldn’t forgive him.

“He must have felt it his duty as elder sibling to get her out of here.” Darkly mused Lord Lucerys. Everyone could see the cogs in his head moving. Being Master of Ships as well as Master of Driftmark, he had a vast knowledge of seafare and seemed to know any ship that has sailed through the waters of the Stepstones. He didn’t like the idea of a traitor having traveled on his seas.

Varys was cautious of how he proceeded. Lord Lucerys was a stout supporter of Aerys as was Grand Maester Pycelle, but even they had to open their eyes and realize the harm he was doing.

And the news of a newborn dragon was certainly something to baffle at.

“You’re proposing a coup, Lord Varys.” The Lord of the Stepstones seemed to be warning him but the fight was slowly draining from the man. He had fought hard to rally support for Aerys but even with all his efforts, Lucerys could see the harm Aerys was doing to everyone.

Everyone else felt the same conflicting emotions. If they dared to consider it, they would all be labeled as traitors against Aerys. At that point, they might very well be praised by the commoners for deposing the Mad King.

Hightower was the first to speak, wanting to only go to bed and sleep for a thousand years. “What do you require of us, Lord Varys?”

The air in the king’s chambers was stifled and clouted with his sickness that impacted his mind. Not even the curtain of his windows were open to relieve some of the stuffiness. Anything that could produce a sliver of light was doused with gloom. Aerys felt safe in the dark. No one could find him. No one could harm him. There could be no deceit if he submerged himself in the warm embrace of darkness. It was the one place where his loud thoughts seemed to soften and grow quiet. They seemed to be the only voices he ever listened to now. Not even the screams that occasionally floated up to his tall tower of the Keep could penetrate through to him. The suffering of his people meant little to someone who was mentally suffering.

“You’re no longer a man.” A voice from so long ago whispers. It warms his skin and makes Aerys search wildly for the source. He hadn’t heard that voice for so long. His sweet Joanna. Her glowing silhouette was sitting at a desk, small hands placed prettily in her lap. Joanna hadn’t aged one bit. The freshness of youth evident in her rosy cheeks. She was frowning at him though. Green eyes cold and staring at him. “Joanna!” Aerys grasped and was nearly groveling at her feet. “Is it really you? But. . .” Hadn’t she died? He couldn’t remember. His memory had holes in it. Scattered into the wind and impossible to catch with his bare hands.

“You’ve lost it, Aerys.” Joanna’s flat tone strikes him deep. Palms and knees pressed against the ground, his nails scrap against the chair leg near her dress skirts. He attempted to grab at the material but nothing substantial met his hand.

“And now you will lose the throne.”

He twisted his head and in the corner was more like a ghostly visage to him. Rhaella stood tall and regal, her head held high in defiance to him.

She takes slow, concentrated steps toward Aerys. Fearful of the specter, he backs away; bumping into the chair that had Joanna as an occupant. He turns to beg Joanna for help. No matter how hard he tried to cling to her,there was nothing physical that met his desperate embraces. Why was she not helping? Was it because she was Rhaella’s lady-in-waiting? Joanna had always been so sweet. That look on her face didn’t suit her. It terrified Aerys.

Not even aware of his words, Aerys blurted out “I didn’t kill your daughter!! I didn’t kill her!”

A chill gripped his throat, Rhaella’s hands.

“JOANNA! Joanna please help me!!”

Frantic knocking at the door shatters their images. Aerys is left breathing heavily on the floor.

“Your Grace? Are you alright?”

They hadn’t been real. His clawed hand runs over his thinning silver hair. Sharp nails leave superficial cuts along his exposed scalp but he had grown accustomed to small cuts all over his body. Rhaella’s hands might have been on him, but it was Joanna’s expression that left a haunted feeling upon him.

She had looked at him like that before. When she was still alive. He had a vague memory of it before he had his fallout with Tywin. Tensions had risen when it was revealed that Tywin would be marrying his cousin Joanna Lannister. How many times had Aerys told Tywin how in love he was with her? Tywin purposefully betrayed him. It was true that at the time he was married to Rhaella, not that he particularly enjoyed the union with his sullen sister. Perhaps his life would have been different if he had taken the leap to marry Joanna first.

His guards outside kept pestering him, wondering if he was okay. Aerys screams at the door for all of them to go away. He couldn't trust anyone. Not even his own guards. Selmy had abandoned him as had Jaime Lannister, not that Aerys put much trust into Tywin's son to begin with. The main factor for letting him join his guards was simply to take Tywin's one heir away. He wanted to put the man under as much humiliation as possible. That was why he married Rhaegar to Tywin's least favorite daughter. That dull little thing that was always a pitiful sight as she stood next to the luxurious Rhaegar Targaryen.

Her name was lost to him. It didn't matter anyway. She was dead. Aerys heard the whispers that came from his servants; they thought that he played a hand in the girl's demise. If only that were true. Aerys couldn't take the credit for her death. From what investigators of the matter told him, they could only come up with the conclusion that it was a freak accident.

She was of no consequence to him now.

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[nerdraging4point0]

Blood of Eden // Part Eight // Noah Sebastian Urban Fantasy AU Fic

Tropes and Tags: MM, MF, MFM, MFM, instalove, too much sex, tattooed men, polyverse, shapeshifters.

CW: 18+ only minors DNI. Urban Fantasy romance, Smut. Angst. Fluff (ish), Story includes D/S themes, mentions of blood and gore, mentions of drug use and distribution, mentions of prostitution, unprotected sex, male receiving oral sex, female receiving oral sex, cuckolding, P/A sex, P/V sex.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

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Jolly strode into the grand council chamber, adjusting the lapels of his suit and surveying the scene before him. Fellow mages mingled in small groups, their hushed conversations echoing off the circular walls and intricately carved marble pillars. His gaze swept down the stairs to the center of the room, where the massive, oaken table of the Head Magistrate sat, its surface polished to a gleaming shine and inlaid with intricate sigils and runes. Flanking it were the four smaller tables of the Council Elders, simple and unadorned in contrast. Off to the side, almost as an afterthought, were the utilitarian desks of the Secretary, Scribe, and Guardsman, stacked high with parchment and quills. Jolly slumped into his seat at one of the Elders' tables, crossing one leg lazily over the other and leaning back with a sigh. Another mind-numbing meeting awaited him, just like all the others this month. These interminable gatherings were the bane of his workday existence. He often found himself zoning out as the Magistrate droned on, his imagination drifting to literally anything else - magical experiments in his workshop, reading in the archives, even watching paint dry. Today would be no exception, he mused, stifling a yawn and steeling himself for the boredom ahead.

Jolly's mind wanders to Rosa as he waits for the meeting to start. He thinks back to this morning at the breakfast table, when he caught a brief glimpse of the intensity simmering behind her eyes. For just a moment, he saw the aurora glow of her irises - greens, blues and purples swirling together like a cosmic storm.

As Jolly poured himself another cup of coffee in the kitchen, he overheard Rosa telling Noah about the victims of the disease she called The Rage. But it wasn't really a disease at all- just uncontrolled magic consuming Unclaimed Mages from within.

Jolly shudders at the thought. Where would he be now if his own magic had spiraled out of control like that? He feels a swell of gratitude for his mentor, who helped him harness and master his abilities. 

His family was a lineage of mages with a magic that spanned generations, each adept at wielding the immense power of water. He had a cousin who made her home right on the tumultuous waves of the Aegean Sea in Greece - open her back door and the ocean spray hits you in the face. Another cousin was an Olympic swimmer - clearly the family gifts gave him an advantage in the pool. It was no coincidence they hailed from the icy north, where snow covered the ground most of the year. His parents were in their element among the glaciers and snowdrifts. They never understood why he felt compelled to head west to the sweltering city.

The simplicity of it resonated within him. Blood. The one common thread that bound humans, mages, and hunters together as one. Its rhythmic flow coursed through every living being, connecting them in an intimate dance of life. As he stood among the pulsing thrum of bodies, feeling their sanguine energy swirl around him, he found peace. In that moment, all differences faded away, and there was only the blood - the vital, crimson river that made them all one.

As she sits down next to him, he can't help but notice her defeated sigh, though her appearance exudes anything but. Maria's dark caramel locks cascade in perfect curls down to the middle of her back, effortlessly framing her sweet mocha skin. While her heather grey suit accentuates her figure, her aura commands the room. He knows Maria to be a confident, successful woman who carries herself with poise and grace, yet in this moment she seems weary. Though she looks as put together as ever, her sigh betrays her, hinting at an exhaustion or worry she tries hard not to show. He wonders what could be weighing on her mind to make her shoulders slump ever so slightly under that perfectly fitted jacket.

Jolly's lips curl into a playful smile as he asks, "What is it this time, Maria dear?" The two have been best friends ever since his arrival from Sweden. Maria herself was born and raised in Brazil - two foreigners who found companionship in one another.

"What isn't the matter?" she exclaims, throwing her head back in defeat. "My experiments are failing left and right. And my herbal farm in the west? It got hit with an unexpected frost. Half our stock is dead and the rest are in shock." Poor Maria lets out an exaggerated sigh, hands slapping her face as her fresh red manicure slides down pulling her skin with it. 

With a warm smile, Jolly noticed the sparkling diamond ring on Maria’s finger. "So how's Oliver handling his new promotion?" he asked.

Maria sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "About as well as can be expected. He's determined to support the hunters and make me proud, but I can tell his mind has been preoccupied." A frown tugged at her lips as she absentmindedly twisted the ring. "I just hope all the added responsibilities aren't weighing too heavily on him."

Jolly nodded in understanding, giving her arm a reassuring pat. "I'm sure he'll get the hang of it. Oliver's got a good head on his shoulders." He offered an encouraging grin. "And if he needs any advice, tell him to give me a call. I'd be happy to help however I can."

The magistrate's presence silenced the room as all eyes fell upon him. His receding dark hair and heavy-lidded eyes, now dulled by age, did nothing to diminish the air of authority he exuded. With shoulders squared, he strode in with the confidence of a man accustomed to commanding obedience. Though time had etched its marks on his face, the magistrate's piercing gaze and imposing stature ensured that he remained an intimidating, powerful figure that few would dare defy. Flanked by armed guards with hands ready at their weapons and fierce hunters prowling in his wake, he exuded power. The assembled mages and council members watched with bated breath as he took his place at the head of the room. His piercing gaze swept over the crowd; with but a look, he could end any man's life. When he spoke, his deep voice echoed off the stone walls, steel underlying his every word. This was not a man to be trifled with. All knew that to defy him meant certain death. His will would be done, one way or another.

The magistrate called the meeting to order, his gravelly voice booming through the crowded hall. As the magistrate continued explaining the agenda for their meeting, Jolly listened intently, waiting for the right moment to make his case with passion and conviction. Jolly had been concerned about laboratory finances being off for months now, although it was only slight loss each month he wanted to propose more access to the financial bracket in order to ensure the funding was being spent appropriately. As the head researcher at the biotech firm, Jolly took pride in running an efficient and productive lab. He had assembled a top-notch team of scientists who were making great strides in genetic research that could lead to new disease treatments. However, Jolly had noticed some peculiarities in the monthly budgets that left him scratching his head. Each month, there seemed to be a small but consistent discrepancy between the approved funding for equipment, materials, and salaries and the actual spending. The differences were not huge - usually just a few thousand dollars - but they bothered Jolly, who liked to have full transparency and understanding of his lab's finances. He began to wonder if the discrepancies were a sign of innocent accounting errors or something more concerning like misconduct or fraud.

 The council chamber erupted into a tumultuous debate as the mages representing the western territories voiced their strong objections to the proposed expansion plans. The western mages were incensed, but controlled in their anger, as they argued against the council's designs to push westward, establishing new laboratories, research facilities, and magical institutions on their lands. They fretted that such development would tax their resources, both material and magical, to a breaking point. More than that, the mages worried how the humans living in the west would react. So much of the mages' livelihood and profits depended on providing services to the non-magical humans there.

The western mages implored the council to reconsider the westward expansion, lest they lose the faith and business of the humans and thereby undermine the prosperity of mage and human alike. But not even ten minutes had passed when Jolly's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pressed it between his palm and thigh, silencing it until the buzzing stopped. A minute later, it buzzed again. Maria turned to him, concern swimming in her soft brown eyes. Jolly never got calls during meetings, especially not with the High Council of Mages. He was always diligent about turning his phone off beforehand. Yet here it was, buzzing insistently in his pocket, disrupting the solemn proceedings. Jolly shifted in his seat, ignoring Maria's worried glance. The phone vibrated again, persistently. Noah knew better than to call during High Council meetings, but after the third buzz, Jolly discreetly slid his phone out from his deep pocket and tapped back a quick message: "In a meeting."

The phone hummed once more against his leg. He offered Maria an apologetic nod before slipping to the back of the room. He could feel the eyes of the other Mages following him, their curiosity mingled with annoyance at the disruption. What could be so urgent that Noah would risk the ire of the High Council? Jolly's grip tightened on his phone as he stepped into the shadowed recesses of the hall.

"Noah, what's going on?" he whispered.

Before Jolly could even finish the question, Noah blurted out: "It's Rosa. She's been sick all morning, shaking and sobbing. I think she's having trouble breathing." Jolly could hear Rosa whimpering and choking back sobs in the background. His heart sank with worry.

Jolly ended the call and quietly returned to his seat beside Maria. Crouching down, he saw her eyes widen as she took in the evident concern on his face.

"Go," she whispered. "I'll check in after the meeting."

NOAH’S POV

He glances down at Rosa's small, trembling body curled up in his lap. Her fever still rages even as she finally drifts into a fitful sleep. He gently rubs circles on her back, hoping to provide some small comfort as they huddle near the warming fire. Jolly has been on the phone with Maria all day, both of them racking their brains trying to figure out how to make Rosa feel better. They've tried everything - bland foods, rest, warm baths, piles of blankets - but nothing seems to break this persistent fever. He feels so helpless watching his young mistress suffer. His heart aches to see her so miserable and weak. If only there was something more he could do to ease her discomfort. He continues rubbing her back, wishing he could absorb her illness into himself and spare her this torment.

Late into the night, the apartment was dark and still. Noah's eyes peered through the shadows, his night vision sharp. In the next room, Jolly tapped away at his keyboard, the occasional thud against the desk revealing his frustration. They were all on edge.

Before the knock came at the door, Noah caught their scent on the air - the earthy musk of Oli mixed with his wife's exotic floral perfume. Hushed voices murmured as Nick let them in, arms laden with bags. The commotion stirred Rosa from her sleep. She groaned, turning her head in Noah's lap as the visitors carried in their chaotic noise. He stroked her hair, hoping to soothe her back to rest, even as his own nerves remained taut. 

Noah gently scoops her up, cradling her in his strong arms as if she were the most delicate porcelain doll. Carrying her down the hall to the room she shares with Jolly. His face softens as he gazes down at her, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. Oli and Nick follow closely behind, ever-watchful guardians ready to protect their cherished friend.

Oli takes up his post by the tall windows, his tall, lean frame leaning casually against the glass as he keeps a close eye on the surroundings below. Nick stations himself firmly by the door, arms crossed, prepared to ward off any disturbance.

Noah lays Rosa down tenderly on the bed, tucking the blankets snugly around her resting form. His touch is feather-light, yet secure and comforting. Oli and Nick exchange a quick glance, reassured by the care Noah takes with his vulnerable mistress.

Noah stops tucking her in, looking up at Oli with a questioning gaze. "She's different now," Oli said, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "Since that night. Something's changed."

Nick chimed in, sounding puzzled. "She's sick, right?" But he had never even seen Rosa before. How could he know?

Oli hesitated, sensing there was more to it. "No, it's...something else. Something more." His tone was laced with curiosity and unease. 

Noah gazed upon his mistress' sleeping form, a knot of unease twisting in his gut. She was his to protect, yet he sensed a power within her that gave him pause. As she shifted in slumber, a lock of hair fell across her face. But as his fingers grazed her cheek, her eyes flashed open, swirling with the cosmic colors of the morning sky.

He whimpered, feeling her gaze pierce his soul. His body shuddered, dropping to all fours in supplication before her might. With but a glance, she commanded the room. Oli and Nick, too, succumbed, bowing as beasts before her.

Though uncertainty gripped him, Noah felt no fear. He would surrender all to keep her safe. There was power here, yes, but no evil. Only light.

JOLLY’S POV

Jolly's leg bounced impatiently as he watched Maria pore over the results for the fifth time. "Well?" he finally burst out, unable to contain himself any longer.

Maria glanced up, one eyebrow raised. "This is unbelievable," she murmured. "Nightshade serum? Created in someone's home lab? Preposterous."

She turned back to the email, reading through it again with pursed lips. Jolly groaned and leaned his head against the back of the couch.

"I just can't wrap my mind around it," Maria said after another minute. "This Rosa woman managed to synthesize a complex biochemical compound using makeshift equipment? And achieved these kind of results?"

He sits casually on the couch, legs crossed, as he considers the situation. "Seems like it," he muses. "She's been getting nightshade from some garden shop over on the east side."

Maria thinks quietly to herself. "Well, I don't own that shop. And I certainly don't sell deadly nightshade here." She shakes her head slightly.

Jolly sat up, placing both feet firmly on the ground as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. His hands clasped together tightly as he looked at Maria expectantly.

"Well, will any of that mumbo jumbo you brought actually help or not?" he asked, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice. He needed something real, something tangible to help Rosa get through this.

Maria just leaned back in the office chair, clicking her tongue thoughtfully. "I might be able to whip something up, but it may only provide temporary relief. She may just have to ride this thing out."

Jolly shook his head, countering firmly but not unkindly, "She needs strength, real medicine, if she's going to recover and get back on her feet. Something to help her keep food and water down, not just take the edge off."

Maria nodded contemplatively, eyes glazing over as she turned ideas over in her head. "Let me see what I can do. Oh, and when she's better, I'd love to be able to pick her brain a bit." At Jolly's confused look, she continued, "My experiments keep failing, but with a brilliant mind like hers, maybe I can finally achieve what I'm looking for."

Jolly sighed, but had to admit her skills could help. "We'll see when she's back on her feet. For now, let's just focus on getting her well."

Maria spins out of the chair, gliding across the room before she rummages through her bags with eager hands, searching for the ingredients she needs. Maria finds them and gets to work, pouring and mixing with practiced motions. Several syringes are filled with a murky green concoction. She tidies her workspace, then picks up one of the syringes. gives it a flick, making sure there are no bubbles, before securing the needle. Her eyes gleam as she admires the fruits of her labor.

Jolly scrambles to his feet as she catwalks out of the room, her words trailing behind her. "Let's see if it works." He hurries after her, struggling to keep up with her long strides. They make their way down the hall to his room. As he opens the door, they both freeze, startled by the sight before them.

Between the soft cotton sheets and warm down blankets, Rosa rests peacefully, her head propped up on the plush pillows. Next to her, Noah, rests his furry head on her belly, his legs twitching occasionally as he sleeps curled up close to Rosa, ever watchful and protective. At her feet, paws crossed over her legs, lies Nick, snoring softly in tranquil slumber. And there, curled perfectly at Rosa's thighs, eyes open and alert, is Oli, the vigilant comander. 

Jolly leans against the door frame, crossing his arms as he watches the faithful guardians wake and look at Maria with curious yet cautious eyes. They have locked onto the syringe in her hand. Noah turns to Jolly, who offers a reassuring nod as Maria approaches slowly. The protective canine companions follow her every move, never leaving their posts at Rosa's side. Jolly looks on calmly from the doorway as Maria grasps Rosa's arm, finding the right spot and delivering the medicine from the syringe. When the syringe is empty, Maria walks away, and the devoted guardians snuggle into Rosa even tighter, continuing their vigil watch.

[nebulaicnova]

star rail headcanons!! (pt. 1)

SFW, mostly fluff. minor angst. it's just bullet points so um

Starting with just the Astral Express!

(once again ty for reading <3)

Himeko

Very touchy, but in super subtle ways.

She’ll never outright make out with her s/o in public or anything like that, but her hand is always grazing over their hand, or resting on their leg.

Her and Kafka have an “enemies with benefits” relationship.

Welt keeps having to remind her that engaging with one of the most wanted people in the universe is dangerous and she shouldn’t be doing that on the reg.

Himeko only really half listens.

Welt also reminds her that Kafka is literally a mass murderer.

Himeko always brings Kafka some coffee. Kafka hates coffee, but drinks it anyway.

Sometimes she and Kafka run into each other on different missions.

It’s always overdramatic.

They continue to act like it’s their first meeting, mostly so the Astral Express Trio doesn’t get suspicious.

They do get suspicious, considering they start flirting at every given opportunity.

She never really gets angry! It takes so much to actually make her have an outburst. And when she does…

Dan Heng and March have never seen her have a genuine outburst.

Welt has.

Welt is afraid.

Welt

Thinks of literally everyone as his kids. Including Himeko.

Sometimes uses pet names for the Trio.

Calls Dan Heng pumpkin, March buttercup, and the Trailblazer either bubs or honey.

No one knows why.

He doesn’t know why.

Extremely warm. He’s easily the best hugger on the Express.

Being so wrapped up, plus the herrscher core makes him a walking oven. Similar to the Trailblazer.

His fingers are too big to text properly.

“Mr. Yang, we’re heading back to the Luofu.”

“Oaken.”

“What???”

“Ol”

“????”

“OK”

Loves when people buy him small trinkets or souvenirs.

His room is decorated with little dolls that March brings back, or different books Dan Heng brings.

With the Trailblazer on the express, he now has amassed a collection of funky keychains.

Tried to fit them all on his phone one time and the loop on his case broke.

Still misses the people from his original universe very much.

He feels a lot of nostalgia whenever he sees Seele from Jarlo VI.

Is actually the person that pushed Jarlo Seele into befriending Jarlo Bronya.

Had to keep himself away from Guinaifen because it hurt too much reminding him of Tesla.

Dan Heng

He’s pretty scared of Blade.

He’s seen glimpses of him in nightmares.

And on the wanted posters.

Yeah, not really good memories to have.

Nearly shit himself the first time they re-met on the Luofu.

Masked it with slight aggression.

Welt and Himeko both have the general knowledge that he has nightmares on a nearly nightly basis.

He doesn’t like to talk about it.

Himeko will offer him some coffee and cookies.

Welt gives him hugs. Hugs for all.

Gets sick pretty often.

Like a little Victorian child.

Temperature too hot? Sick.

Temperature too cold? Sick.

He stuck next to the Trailblazer as much as he could on Jarlo VI to even it out.

Didn’t work. He got sick again.

Absolutely ADORES hugs.

He never outright shows it, but he is like the number one hug enjoyer.

He’ll always grumble about being shown physical affection, but never once has backed away from a hug.

Welt knows this. And always hugs him.

March

Her and Dan Heng fight over who gets to hang out with the Trailblazer more.

(Neither of them take both for an answer.)

She usually wins.

Even though she doesn’t really ACT like it, she’s secretly super intelligent.

It all started when she realized how gloomy things on the Express got.

She started acting super cheery and cutesy and dumb to heighten the mood.

It worked! And then she found out she actually liked it.

She has an iron deficiency.

Most likely because the only meat she insists on eating are chicken tenders and chicken nuggets.

She cried one time because a restaurant was out of nuggets.

Plushie collector.

Has to get EVERY variety of plushie she can find on every planet.

She names them all, too. After the days she bought them.

Himeko sent the Trailblazer with her to try and tone it down. The Trailblazer also started collecting.

[holmesillustrations]

Left: “His face turned upon us with a glare of baffled rage” Three Garridebs, HK Elcock, The Strand Jan 1925 Characters: Evans, Holmes, Watson

Right: “Look at that mark on the seat of the oaken chair!” Abbey Grange, Sidney Paget, The Strand Sep 1904 Characters: Holmes, Watson

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

FROM THE VERY DEPTHS OF THE '90s HEAVY ROCK UNDERGROUND -- ONLY ON EARACHE RECORDS.

PIC(S) INFO: Mega spotlight on a vintage tee design for "SLEEP's Holy Mountain," the second album by American stoner/DOOM metal band, SLEEP, released in late 1992 and early 1993 respectively under the then leading UK extreme music label, Earache Records. Sleeve artwork by Robert Klem.

"Far within the oaken tower, Exists the one with evil power, Magic channeler of Earth's frustration, The Druid sleeps in meditation."

-- "The Druid" (1992) by SLEEP

Source: www.picuki.com/media/3350441722592759819.

[medium-observation]

JULY RELEASE

Frozen - First US National Tour

April 14, 2024 (Matinée) - Medium Observation

Video

Cast:

Natalie Goodin (u/s Elsa), Lauren Nicole Chapman (Anna), Savannah Lumar (Young Elsa), Emma Origenes (Young Anna), Jeremy Davis (Olaf), Dan Plehal (Sven), Daniel Switzer (s/w Oaken/Ensemble), Evan Duff (Weselton), Brian Martin (Pabbie), Renée Reid (Bulda), Natalie Wisdom (s/w Head Handmaiden), Sammy Schechter (s/w Bishop), Kate Bailey (Ensemble), Kristen Smith Davis (Ensemble), Leigh-Ann Esty (Ensemble), Michael Everett (Ensemble), Jason Goldston (Ensemble), Sarah Dearstyne (s/w Ensemble), Zach Hess (Ensemble), Adrianna Rose Lyons (Ensemble), Alexander Mendoza (Ensemble), Kyle Lamar Mitchell (Ensemble), Katie Mariko Murray (Ensemble), Nick Silverio (Ensemble), Peli Naomi Woods (Ensemble)

Notes:

Natalie's Elsa Debut. Incredible video of this incredible cast. some washout and shakiness, and readjusting throughout.

NFT Date: July 1st, 2025

Screenshots: https://www.flickr.com/gp/196227588@N02/J55tdr219n

Video is $20

In the Heights - Cleveland Playhouse

June 7, 2024 - Medium Observation

Video

Cast:

Joseph Morales (Usnavi), Addie Morales (Nina), Chibueze Ihuoma (Benny), Kalyn West (Vanessa), Trinidad Snider (Abuela Claudia), Rudy Martinez (Kevin), Michelle Aravena (Camila), Shadia Fairuz (Daniela), Kirsten Angelina Henry (Carla), Gabriel Subervi (Sonny), Courtland Davis (Graffiti Pete), Kevin Solis (Piragua Guy), Amy Romero (s/w Ensemble)

Notes:

Excellent capture of this incredible production. some washout and shakiness, and readjusting throughout.

NFT Date: January 1st, 2025

Screenshots: https://www.flickr.com/gp/196227588@N02/11270N1L8A

Video is $20

Six - Second US National Tour (Boleyn)

June 15, 2024 - Medium Observation

Video

Cast:

Kristina Leopold (Catherine of Aragon), Cassie Silva (Anne Boleyn), Kelly Denice Taylor (Jane Seymour), Danielle Mendoza (Anna of Cleves), Alize Cruz (Katherine Howard), Adriana Scalice (Catherine Parr)

Notes:

Near perfect capture of this incredible 2.0 Boleyn Cast! lots of latecomers at this theater so you will see some people walk in and out of frame at times. some washout and shakiness, and readjusting throughout.

NFT Date: July 1st, 2025

Screenshots: https://www.flickr.com/gp/196227588@N02/E3iE5F81Xh

Video is $20

Videos can be purchased through me at mediumobservationtrading@gmail.com

[damien-wolfram-art]

A Gift from the Divine

Madara should’ve known better than to push his limits, but Madara didn’t know better and now, he was falling. Down he went—faster and faster until the darkness he was falling into gave way to a faint prismatic glow. He tried to spread his dark wings, but tired as they were, they barely slowed his descent. “Don’t fly too low,” his father, Tajima’s, warning echoed in his head. “You’re still young. You’ll tire quickly.” Why had he been so reckless? He was only a couple years older than his youngest brother, Izuna, and yet he really had acted as if he knew exactly what he was doing.

“I’ll be fine!” Madara told him. “Just a quick fifteen minute flight and I’ll be back up in no time!” And then, he jumped from the fundament of his skybound home.

The glow was rapidly approaching Madara now. His dark eyes shifted in color to a magma-red—the same color of his burning halo. He could now make out a few shapes in the dark. They looked like trees, but they twisted unnaturally and glowed in all the colors of the rainbow. “Just where am I falling to?” He wondered. He would soon have his answer.

Crashing through the many twisted boughs and branches, Madara for the first time, touched the earth. He was badly battered and bruised, but he was happy to find that none of his injuries were serious. He carefully picked twigs out of his short scruffy midnight blue hair, swearing to himself that he would live to grow it out.

He heard a snap about a meter to his right and he jerked his head to face the sound. And that’s when he met him, Hashirama Senju.

“Are you alright?” Asked the boy, whose voice was higher pitched than his own. 

Madara drew the only weapon he had, a sharp branch from one of the trees he fell through. From what little his eyes could make of him, the boy who approached him had an awful bowl haircut and worse yet, two oaken horns poked through it, twisting like the trees around them. “You’re a demon?” Madara asked in return.

“A bit rude to ask a question before answering one dontcha think?”

“S-stay back!”

Hashirama did not stay back. “You fell pretty hard. Did ya hit your head?”

“Of course I fell hard!” Madara snapped, “ I fell all the way from-” He stopped himself before he felt he had revealed too much.

“Heaven?” Hashirama joked.

“I-”

“What are you? “A Gift from the Divine” or something?” 

Madara fell silent.

Part of a collaboration with @flawlessstriker

Here it is!

@hashimada-week

[animal-master]

The Witch of Arendelle - Chapter 6

The Witch of Arendelle (26794 words) by animal_master Chapters: 6/21 Fandom: Frozen (Disney Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Elsa/Honeymaren (Disney), Anna/Kristoff (Disney), Minor or Background Relationship(s) Characters: Elsa (Disney), Honeymaren (Disney), Runeard (Disney), Anna (Disney), Kristoff (Disney), Ryder Nattura, Agnarr (Disney), Iduna (Disney), Kai (Disney: Frozen), Oaken (Disney), Olaf (Disney), Yelana (Disney), Hans (Disney), Mattias (Disney) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Inspired by Notre-Dame de Paris | The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Angst, Drama, Friends to Lovers, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Discrimination Against Northuldra, Eventual Smut, Period-Typical Homophobia, Northuldra (Disney), Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Romance, Runeard is an Awful Person, Internalized Homophobia, Minor Character Death Summary: "Remember, Elsa, this is your sanctuary!" Within the walls of Arendelle Cathedral, a haunting rumor circulates about its enigmatic bell ringer. The whispers speak of a woman whose magic reflects the darkness of her soul, a woman spared years ago by the benevolent King Runeard, the righteous leader of the Church. As the Polar Night Festival comes to Arendelle, the fate of its people is forever changed by the fateful meeting of two young women. Elsa Snedronningen, the Witch of Arendelle, could never have imagined the profound impact her encounter with Honeymaren Nattura would have on her world. Honeymaren, a fearless Northuldra who defies the king and fights for the rights of her oppressed people, leads Elsa to question everything she was raised to believe. Sin whispers its seductive promises, and with each passing moment, Elsa discovers a disturbing truth: she was beginning to like it.

[frozen-snowflakesandsunflowers]

World of Frozen: Disney Parks

Part 2

Part 1 gives the first look at the World of Frozen in Hong Kong's Disney Park here.

We now have another snippet of the World of Frozen, given to us just a couple of days ago, giving us just a little bit more insight into what it was like between the events of Frozen fever (which is canonically set after Frozen Olaf's Frozen Adventure) and Frozen 2.

There's not as much here like the previous video. But I think I'd be worth sharing it some anyways.

We get a look at some new portraits alongside some familiar ones. In Frozen 2 we saw a painting of Angarr, which is in the top left corner in this image below. Next to it is an official portrait of Sven and Kristoff. They look so good in it and totally deserve their own painting. Bottom left, we have another familiar portrait shown in Olaf's Frozen Adventure of Agnarr, Iduna and young Elsa and Anna. This painting is also a concept art and hence there are two versions of it. In the concept version of it, the original one, Iduna had blonde hair and in the one used for the Short, Iduna has brown hair. The right to that portrait, in this frame is of Olaf. This pose of Olaf is one of his poses used as promotion for the first movie. In the painting he's sitting on a chair instead of ice like the promotional images show. I guess we can imply that all the promotional images of Frozen are actually official royal portraits, though they may not all be shown in the films, shorts and parks. The last portrait at the far bottom right corner, is of Elsa and Anna. A new one first featured in the first video for the first look at the World of Frozen in the Disney Park in Hong Kong. See the first part for a better look at it (link above).

We get a glimpse of the kanu boat at the Arendelle dock as a nod to Anna and Hans first meet and another nod to Anna s fishing rod gift for her 19th birthday in Frozen Fever.

Next we get another look from the newsletter featured in the first look for the park. If you can't read or for any reason, I've written it out all in the first part.

We also get another look at the scroll for the official proclamation for the official Summer Snow Day from the first look video. For a reminder, Summer Snow Day is a new official celebration in Arendelle to make one year from the great thaw or as they remember it, one year from Anna's great sacrifice that saved Elsa from Hans and the kingdom from the eternal winter (yes, Elsa was the one who thawed the kingdom but she learnt the key was love because of Anna's sacrifice. So really it was Anna who saved the kingdom).

The next look we have is of Sven and Kristoff in a different kind of portrait, individually, again using the promotional character images used for Frozen. Kristoff's pose is the same as his iconic one for Frozen but he's in this Frozen epilogue and Frozen Fever attire, as this was his everyday look back then.

At the end of Frozen, we learn that Elsa, Queens the time, officially names Kristoff as the Official Ice Master of Arendelle. Here's that title hung up.

And finally we have Oaken in his sauna but through a screen. He makes a snowflake as a reference to Elsa then wipes it off.

And there we have the second look at the World of Frozen resort in the Hong Kong Disney Park. I know we're in events post Frozen 2 but it's nice to know what happened within the 2 years after Frozen Fever and before Frozen 2. The update on Hans and relationship with the Southern Isles has me going crazy with the possibility of his return in Frozen 3. We'll have to see. But hope you enjoyed this post 😁

[weonbullshit]

Finally managed to doodle Graham in a way that doesn't look like shit, and Boulder just because.

Also, @frosty-tian 's oc Oaken based off of the one public post of him. I'm obsessed.

You've made me ship BoulGram, and it's all your fault.

[magicaltrash]

It's time for the 5th annual Magical Trash Year-in-Review, where we take a look at trash cans at the Disney theme parks and resorts worldwide. Yes, it's a weird idea, but you are going to keep reading, right? (View previous Year-in-Reviews) Some may note that it's been a somewhat rocky year for the Mouse, but trash can activity has been strong. As we've seen in previous years, this year's additions were primarily driven by attraction openings, including Mickey & Minnie's Runaway Railway at Disneyland, the opening of the World of Frozen in Hong Kong, and the arrival of the Zootopia in Shanghai. Unfortunately, we also saw the fastest introduction-to-removal can timeline with the closing of Star Wars: Galactic Starcruiser - which had opened just a year earlier at Walt Disney World. Over the past year, MagicalTrash.com celebrated the 1,000 trash can photo milestone (only took 14 years!), while adding over 100 new entries. This was complimented by 1,600+ posts across social media networks, including Instagram, Facebook, LinkedIn, Mastodon, Threads, and Bluesky. Posts were also added to Twitter/X, but frankly it's hard to continue supporting that platform due to its overall decline on many fronts (and I say that as someone who works in corporate social media professionally!). For 2023, Magical Trash tracked 16 substantial trash can design changes, a 14% increase vs. 2022's 14 tracked changes:

Added: 14

Historical Cans Added: 4

Updated: 0

Endangered: 0

Removed: 2

The US-based parks saw the most activity, with Disneyland Resort experiencing 6 changes, while Walt Disney World recorded 4 changes. Hong Kong Disneyland Resort and Disneyland Paris Resort both recorded 2 updates, and Shanghai Disney Resort saw 1 new addition. No notable changes were recorded for Tokyo Disney Resort or Disney Cruise Line.

Here's a detailed breakdown of updates:

ADDED New trash can designs that debuted in Disney theme parks over the past year

Mickey & Minnie’s Runaway Railway (El CapiTOON Theater) - NEW Disneyland, Mickey’s Toontown With a movie theater setting, iconography is anchored by a popcorn bucket image with large “EC” letters.  

Mickey & Minnie’s Runaway Railway (M.A.G.I.C.) - NEW Disneyland, Mickey’s Toontown Outside the attraction are cans associated with M.A.G.I.C. - short for the Municipal Agency of Garbage Identification and Collection. Now that's a group we want to join!  

World of Frozen (Arendelle Crest) - NEW - NEW Hong Kong Disneyland, World of Frozen The official crest of Arendelle features a crocus - a multi-color flowering bulb that typically blooms in the spring - and seen throughout the Frozen franchise.  

World of Frozen (Wandering Oaken’s Sliding Sleighs) - NEW Hong Kong Disneyland, World of Frozen Furthering the rugged forest theme of the family coaster, decorative Scandinavian folk art patterns are found throughout queue, with geometric shapes highlighted in red, green, and orange hues.  

Zootopia - NEW Shanghai Disneyland, Zootopia A surprising entry to Shanghai's bland trash can scene, green trash cans with zebra-like stripes on the lower portion combine with a city emblem.  

San Fransokyo Square - NEW Disney California Adventure, San Fransokyo Square The shoehorned Big Hero 6 retheme of DCA's Pacific Wharf gave us new cans that looked a lot like the old cans - but with bonus "SFS" branding. Ho hum.  

Journey of Water, Inspired by Moana - NEW Walt Disney World, Epcot, World Nature You can tell this is a modern Disney attraction because the name is an IP-laden paragraph. Lots of storytelling to explain "scenery."  

Parkside Market - NEW Disneyland Resort, Downtown Disney Probably one of the more visually-stunning additions in 2023, Mickey Mouse + mid-century design. Simple concept, well-executed.  

The Villas at Disneyland Hotel - NEW Disneyland Resort, The Villas at Disneyland Hotel New DVC borrows much of its design from Aulani. Not ugly, but also not magical. Were these picked out of a catalog?  

Pixar Place Hotel - NEW Disneyland Resort, Pixar Place Hotel The retime of Disneyland's Paradise Pier Hotel features trash cans very similar in design to those implemented at The Villas at Disneyland Hotel. Maybe they got a 2-for-1 deal?  

Disneyland Paris Reusable Tableware Cans - NEW Disneyland Paris, Adventureland France's Anti-Waste and Circular Economy Law is focused on phasing out improper disposal of waste. Food service at the French parks has implemented reusable table settings, which has impacted trash can design.  

"Fantasyland 2" Backstage - NEW Disneyland Paris, Fantasyland A backstage can makes an appearance onstage as a support trash can from the “Fantasyland 2” zone, parked where everyone can see.  

Pym Test Kitchen Food Waste - NEW Disney California Adventure, Avengers Campus After debuting combination food waste trash cans in Tomorrowland around 2021, Disneyland expanded the practice to the Avengers Campus at DCA.  

Jollywood Nights Temporary Media Can - NEW Disney's Hollywood Studios, Grand Avenue Throw a sticker on an existing trash can and it's something new! Temporarily rethemed can at Disney's Hollywood Studios during a media event for Jollywood Nights holiday entertainment.  

HISTORICAL CANS ADDED Retro trash can designs that were unearthed by new research this year, but are no longer in use

MK Main Street (1974) - HISTORICAL ADDITION Magic Kingdom, Main Street U.S.A. Early years of the Magic Kingdom featured very detailed trash cans on Main Street U.S.A, often in multiple colors. Quite a contrast from the undecorated brown cans used in the 2000s.  

Farmer's Market (Late-1980s/Early-1990s) - HISTORICAL ADDITION Epcot, Future World, The Land The famed umbrella tables at The Land found their shapes emulated via the trash cans, which were primarily brown with light tan arches represented on all sides.  

River Country (2010) - HISTORICAL ADDITION Walt Disney World, Fort Wilderness Resort & Campground 9 years after the water park closed, remnants of the ‘Ol’ Swimmin’ Hole’ could still be spotted at Fort Wilderness.  

Mulholland Madness (2007) - HISTORICAL ADDITION Disney's California Adventure, Paradise Pier Tacky theme was on-point for DCA 1.0. This green can with road sign decal found a home in Paradise Pier.  

UPDATED Existing trash can designs that have been modified or revised in the past year

None for 2023  

ENDANGERED Trash can designs that still exist, but will most likely disappear in the future

None for 2023  

REMOVED Trash can designs that have been eliminated from use at Disney theme parks

Star Wars: Galactic Starcruiser (Interior) - REMOVED Walt Disney World, Star Wars: Galactic Starcruiser The in-wall trash cans for the 100-cabin Corellian MPO-1400 model Galactic Starcruiser were in use for just 579 days.  

Star Wars: Galactic Starcruiser (Terminal) - REMOVED Walt Disney World, Star Wars: Galactic Starcruiser You won't be needing to dispose of your garbage before boarding the MPO-1400 Star Cruiser Halcyon, as these cans will probably have a longer life than the hotel ever had.  

One massive disappointment in 2023 was Walt Disney World's opening of TRON Lightcycle / Run in the Magic Kingdom's Tomorrowland. Generic silver cans, thus reinforcing WDW's continual cheapening out on themed trash can design. Paul Pressler called and even he thinks you can do better.

Here at Magical Trash we celebrated our 14-year anniversary covering the world of Disney trash cans, which included keeping up with various salt shaker merchandise releases that showcase the iconic can shape. 6 new designs were released during festivals: The Dude with the Food (DCA Food & Wine 2023), Amazingly Sweet (DCA Food & Wine 2023), Groovy Garden Orange Bird (Epcot Flower & Garden 2023), Stuck on Imagination Figment (Epcot Flower & Garden 2023), Chef Mickey (Epcot Food & Wine 2023), and Spaceship Earth (Epcot Food & Wine 2023).

If you happened to be at Tokyo Disneyland, you could have picked up a mini figure version of a Tomorrowland trash can or a TDS trash can toy. In the U.S. you could pick up a shirt or water bottle with a recycling can image proclaiming that you "Love Our Disney Parks" -- Disneyland or WDW-specific versions. There was plenty of trash can auction action as well.

Thanks to everyone who contributed photos, visited MagicalTrash.com, and interacted with this weird hobby over the past year. You've put a smile on my face as we all follow this goofy passion. As it's impossible to be omnipresent at 12 theme parks and numerous resorts around the world, let us know what we've missed! Thanks for an interesting year, CanFans! - Steve Tanner, your Magical Trash host

[All photos used by permission.]