#source my own short curly hair

[cor-lapis]

I decided to have a go at doing my own redesigns because these three are my favourites and I love them very much. further notes + sources under the readmore (warning: lots of text). I did my best with the research, but if there's anything I overlooked, I'd really appreciate people letting me know :)

Tighnari:

My main source for Tighnari was this excellent thread, from which I looked up each item of clothing individually. Since djellabas tend to be quite long, and Tighnari needs mobility for forest ranger activities, I figured he would cut and re-hem the lower half. He also has a lot of clothing pieces that are traditionally multicoloured, but to keep his design cohesive I decided to use the same colours across different items, but using a larger palette of colours than I would usually. I like the bright colours on him a lot though!

There are also some minor details I just changed because I wanted to. The flower on his chest is now a nilotpala lotus, because I thought it was nice to include his acension material/the material he asks you to help gather. The dirt stains/scuff marks are because rainforests are muddy and I wanted the design to emphasise Tighnari being very practical and hands-on with his work (see also, the specimen belt).

Finally, I shrunk the magnifying glass on his back (because I'm pretty sure it's meant to be his first magnifying glass toy and that thing is very large for a child to handle) and gave him an undercut because it seemed right. Also, I merged his front and back trailing cloths into a scarf type of thing that he could wrap around his nose and mouth to prevent inhaling spores from mushrooms.

Collei:

COLLEI my beloved. I had a mild nightmare trying to figure out a specific source culture for her design, but nobody seemed to know specifics and her outfit wasn't matching with any traditional dress I looked up, so in the end decided to keep the overall look the same. Just in case I assigned her something else, but then it turned out I missed her actual inspiration.

Anyway, I made her shoes simpler (no fur, heels, and open toes in the rainforest seemed reasonable to me), and gave her shorts. I liked the green colour because it's pretty unique under a dark dress, and pairs nicely with Nahida's white dress + green undersides. Amber's tie stays, but I made most of her jewellery smaller since it felt a little clunky for a trainee ranger.

Her earring and necklace(?) are allusions to the Evil Eye and the Khmissa/Hamsa, both symbols of protection. Especially considering the fact they're meant to ward off evil, and very common across multiple MENA cultures, it seemed fitting for Collei to have them. Also, she has Eleazar scars, and I used the design for her stockings as inspiration for the combination knee braces (similar to those used for arthritis, since Eleazar also causes stiff limbs and I HC that people affected would probably still need some recovery support)/knee pads (in the case of a fall). I like the idea that Kaveh would have helped make them for her (tangent but the fic Here is the House explores similar ideas; it's really really good, I heavily recommend it). Finally, she has curly hair because I thought it would be cute.

Cyno:

Here's the thread I found for Cyno. The main critique was to do with the eras from which each aspect of his clothing drew inspiration, but I admittedly wouldn't be able to do much about this without a lot of research. One thing I did try and verify was the small strip of cloth on the left of his chest, and I found a few wall murals where the people seem to be wearing similar strips of cloth? (example here; rightmost figure) Therefore, I didn't remove it, but if someone wants to explain Ancient Egyptian clothing history to me I'd be really interested to hear it 6.6

I might iterate on the design in the future, but for now the changes are mostly HC territory. Cyno wearing his hair in locs (a protective hairstyle) makes sense for someone who does a lot of hiking after rogue scholars, and I also gave him quite old and faded top surgery scars because healthcare is canonically free in Sumeru (thanks for that information, al-Haitham)(though tbf Cyno makes bank anyway). I also adjusted the colours a bit, since Genshin tends to use desaturated shades for metallic elements.

I also considered giving Cyno more scars, but figured that it could indicate Hermanubis' presence that someone you'd expect to get injured a lot is relatively scar-free (i.e. some sort of godly healing factor/resistance to damage). However, we know next to nothing about Hermanubis, so Cyno having a lot of scars also makes sense. This paragraph is mostly just a cry for help cyno story quest 2 literally any more elaboration about the nature of Hermanubis' pact and the Temple of Silence.

Conclusion

I wasn't intending to write one when I started the explanations but this got REALLY long so if you made it this far, thank you so so much ToT please check out the links; the threads especially were a great resource, and I'm grateful that people take the time to make them <3 genshin's character design department are cowards but I'm glad I learned some new things through the redesign process

[queenendless]

☯️My Senpai (Student!SatoSugu x Student!Reader ft Student!Ieiri Shoko)☯️

A/n: The canonical prequel of Ticklish Remedy aka the Cursed Seer AU!

You the late transfer, getting along with your fellow first years, while also being dote on by your senpais.

There is an allude to an ongoing mystery with you in this AU that is kinda obvious, crack kinda nonsense from everyone here, mentions of ShokoHime, and SatoSugu be kinda chaotic in this, I did the best I could to make it short but sweet!

PLEASE DONT PLAGIARIZE, STEAL, REPOST, COPY AND/OR TRANSLATE MY FANFIC CONTENT. Reblog, like, and follow instead please and thank you.

You're a walking mystery.

No family.

No home.

Just a wandering soul that was discovered passed out by the entrance, collapsed before the first torii gate.

Sensing the shift in balance as an abnormal source appeared out of the blue right at the doorstop, Gojo was the first to find you, followed closely behind by Geto.

Your eyes were closed, lost in subconsciousness.

But in your mind's eye, you could visualize everything transpiring. You could hear them clear as day. Gojo's curly lips as he held you in his arms, brushing your hair aside to see your face more.

“Like a little kitten~ Kawaii~”

“Less flirting, you. Best to take her to Shoko.” Geto murmured as he took you in his arms to carry you all bride-like.

“You're blushing though~” Gojo snickered.

“Shut it.” Geto's kick was halted by Infinity.

“You likey, me likey~” Gojo sang as they started climbing those stone steps.

Those two nosey felines peaked in as you awoke a while later after Shoko's healing did the trick, a cig between her quirked lips.

“Cutie pie.” Patting you on the head, she gave you a lollipop. “For being a good patient.”

“Hey! I want some!” Gojo barged in loud enough to startle you in bed, grabbing some right out of the opened bag nestled in the desk chair. “I get sweets on top on seeing this sweetie up and about for real!”

“Good to see you awake, um …” Geto's awkward trail off as he rubbed the back of his neck, not knowing your name.

“Y/n L/n.”

Those three had big sparkling eyes of wonderment the moment you replied. Even your name sounded wonderful to them.

Like, your very presence was swaying them all.

“Ieiri Shoko.” She saluted.

“Suguru Geto.” He bowed a bit.

“Satoru Gojo.” He winked.

Blushing up at their greetings gave an extra kick for you to feel energized.

Enough to change into one of Shoko's spare tees, sweatpants, and sandals before the trio brought you before Yaga-sensei who met you inside a shrine of the school, introducing yourself to the newfound principal.

After affirming your backstory and situation thus far, you were put on the spot and tested for your chance to stay, facing off against one of his cursed corpse dolls. A giant bear with boxing gloves.

Your eyes burned and gleamed bright as moving pictures appeared in your mind.

As they zipped up to you, you felt something click within.

In that next moment, your feet moved on their own.

Your desire to move had you zipping in blurry speed all over, exhilaration racing through your veins.

Kicking the bear right into the wall, leaving cracks in its dent sized hole.

Shoko snapped a pic whereas the guys both whistled lowly.

It all went by in a snap.

“Not bad. For a sapling. However!” He pried his wiggling bruised doll from the wall, cradling and patting the whimpering little thing. “Everyone has their reason for becoming a sorcerer. What is yours?”

“I have nowhere else to go … no one else to turn to.” That was all you could rely on because your recollection on how you teleported here was still foggy but there was nothing else to do but move forward and hope the truth comes to light in time.

“If this is my gift … my innate talent … my newfound purpose then … is to take advantage of it to the fullest. And if saving lives can come with that, then fine. As long as I have food, a roof over my head, and get paid for it, that is.”

Yaga-sensei turned to the second years who looked anywhere but him, whistling, at the mention of getting paid. “Very well.” Yaga bowed to you. “Welcome to Jujutsu High.”

You bowed in return when the clapping and congratulations from your new senpais had your face tinted like a flustered rose.

☯️☯️☯️☯️☯️☯️☯️☯️☯️☯️☯️☯️☯️☯️☯️☯️☯️

“Suguru?”

“Hmm?”

“Is that not the cutest thing you've ever seen?” Sitting against the vending machine, Gojo's blue raspberry lips curled up, directed at you as you chatted with your fellow first years.

“She has a name, ya know.” Geto's pineapple tinted lips pursed.

“And our precious kouhai to boot~!”

“Staring at her so much will only unsettle her.”

“Slowly growing curse energy level. Innate technique still developing. Almost as if she's just become a cursed newborn –”

“Terrible word choice.”

“These eyes can fully read her … but it still feels like she's hiding something.”

“Everyone’s entitled to have secrets.”

Only a week has gone by and already you were part of the IT crowd.

Clad in your new uniform, you had walked out of the combini with Nanami on one side and Haibara on the other, plastic bags of popsicles in hand as your senpais tasked you three with buying them, passing them out as you plopped a (favorite flavor) popsicle in your mouth.

Haibara got chummy with you, chattering about anything right away with his coconut soaked lips madly while Nanami commented here and there with those lemon lips but looking at ease with you two there.

Gojo chuckled, dumping his popsicle and wrapper into the nearby trash can. “How interesting~ This'll be fun~”

Despite barely meeting the qualifications of becoming a sorcerer, you gave off such a comforting assuring presence.

Everyone flocked to you. The curious, genuine soul amiss the cursed chaos that is this kind of life. Among this crew. A rare special enigma …

“L/n-chan~ Walk with me~ Talk with me~Adore me~!” Gojo appeared before you, floating right there, embracing you in a squeeze.

Burning face aside, the word slipped out before you could process it.

“No.”

Haibara's gasp, Nanami coughing out a snort in his fist, Shoko's kiwi glossed smirk, and Geto's surprised but amused face were all a pale contrast to Gojo's guffawed face as he shook you, oblivious to how your insides fluttered so damn much from his actions.

“Huh!? Why not!? I'm your senpai! The strongest one there is! You have to do what I say!”

“You and Geto-senpai are the strongest together, you hurtful baka.” You reminded the prime fact that has been etched in your mind and soul.

Geto's pink dusted cheeks made him that much more dashing in your eyes as he pulled you out of Gojo's arms. “Thank you, L/n-chan.” He then smacked Gojo upside the head. “Baka.”

“Suguru, I didn't mean that! Forgive me!’ The albino shredded waterfalls, embracing the stewing teen who easily broke free from the lanky grip.

You hurried over to hide behind Geto's bulky frame, peaking out at Gojo before blinking up at Geto with those anticipated e/c eyes earning an enriching laugh from him. “Yosh yosh~” Geto patted your head to your bashful self. “Forgive him. He's still learning the mundane ways of decency.”

Haibara and Gojo gasped dramatically in unison, Nanami looked cross eyed at the escalating nonsense, and Shoko took another popsicle in.

“You're just as bad as me, ya know.” Gojo poked him insistently in the cheek.

“Satoru, your prideful obnoxiousness isn't gonna win her over.” Geto lightly smacked his hand aside.

“It won you over, didn't it~?”

Gojo's sly smirk and Geto's flaming face had Haibara raspily squealing, Nanami covering his mouth to stop that noise, Shoko giving a bland whoop call and you this close to getting a nosebleed.

“Come on, Suguru~ Flex them muscles and brains for our sweet kouhai if you're so confident like you do for me~” Gojo flirted.

“We shouldn't overwhelm her right off the bat you idiot!” Geto hissed.

“What is happening?” Nanami was mortified.

“Our senpai are so brazen … it's inspiring!” Haibara was starry-eyed, seeing nothing wrong.

“The moronic couple have broken their own world record.” Shoko hummed as she was recording with her phone to show Utahime later.

Blue and almond clashed when a supple soft form appeared between the two, taking each of their hands in your own, tugging on them just to get them to hold hands themselves. “Don't fight because of me. Please.”

Arrows pierced the pair's hearts; red dusting from cheeks to their ears, with light in their eyes at the supportive small softie that is you.

“Kawaii~” Gojo hummed.

“Angelic~” Geto breathed out, stunned.

“Stubborn but reasonable … I like you.” Shoko laughed a bit; her popsicle stuck in between her lips instead, pulling you out from between them, hugging you from behind. “Maybe I'll keep you for me and Utahime-senpai to share.”

. . .

“Eh?”

Moving pictures flashed in your mind for a moment.

Holding their hands.

Being carried away in their arms.

Laugher ringing out through the bright scene.

They came in so quick.

They were gone the next.

“Eto?” Your dot eyes blinked dubiously.

“We call dibs on her, Shoko! Right Suguru!?”

“Wha – ?”

“Damn it, fine.”

You yelped as they each took an arm of yours and easily pulled you out of Shoko's hold, using their arms to carry you in their own makeshift arm throne, running fast enough to leave dust in their wake.

“Suck it Shoko!” Gojo hollered over his shoulder.

“I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested! Sorry Shoko!” Geto yelled back in a jumble.

“Everyone!” Your panicked yell echoed along with their manic laughter as you three blinked out of view.

“GoGe throuple it is. Damn it.” She didn't sound too upset as she sent the recording to her bae before taking the bags you dropped amidst the chaos as she followed their path.

“Our senpai are idiots.” Nanami's head dipped in shame as he followed.

“But bold! I like it!” Oh Haibara, always the optimist.

As the winds blew hard and the sun gleamed for the optimistic future that laid ahead of you, you were suddenly lowered down. Your heart was ready to soar out of your chest.

The vision came true.

But chalking it up as coincidence would be best suited until more came into fruition to confirm their legitimacy.

Perhaps then, using them as a guide would help reveal the missing pieces in the puzzle that is you. How you came to be here. These newfound abilities of yours that were steadily growing as we speak. And your otherworldly charm that lures everyone in. These two especially.

Tilting his shades up to rest on his head, Gojo's eyes twinkled with deviousness as he cheekily giggled. “Y/n~ How lucky you are to have two strong senpai looking after you~”

“While part of me still finds this insane, I suppose being Jujutsu sorcerers in training entitles us to embrace the craziness. Right, Y/n-chan~?” Geto's toothy smirk made you just as nervous as it did anticipating what's to come.

You gave off steam as you hid your burning red face in your hands, earning you breathy laughs from those two as they waved at your fellow schoolmates that were finally catching up to them.

What a way to start things off.

[web-novel-polls]

WN Rarepair Tournament

Please consider each rarepair and vote for the ship you like the best / find the most interesting / that compels you the most / etc.

[Photo ID - The first image shows official illustrations of Eulalie and Clef from Unlucky Clover that's been edited to include sparkle emojis beside each of them and a heart emoji between them. Underneath their names are their ages, pronouns, and a small paragraph about them. Both Eulalie and Clef are 23 years old and use he/him pronouns.

Eulalie is a man with short, curly, dark hair. He is wearing a black, sleeveless turtleneck and hanging black earrings. His paragraph reads, "He is a hardworking young man who's keeping a secret from his childhood friend. He does not initially get along very well with Willow but they have an odd mutual respect for one another. He has a big heart and helps when he can."

Clef is a man with fuzzy pink hair. He is wearing a large green jacket with a white shirt underneath. His paragraph reads, "He is a stubborn and dependable person who cares deeply for those around him. He can't stand to witness injustice, loves his father, and is just about ready to strangle his childhood friend. He takes care of the important things others forget."

The second image is a collage edited to include sparkle emojis in the top left and bottom right corners. The top image shows an official black-and-white illustration of Zhuzhi-lang and the bottom image is an excerpt from The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System. It reads:

(Start excerpt) After a pause, Shen Qingqiu changed his angle. "What's your name?"

The first one replied, "Six Balls."

"What does that mean?"

"When I was born, my pa held me and said I was six balls heavy."

Shen Qingqiu was speechless. (Italicized) What balls? Shot put balls or ping-pong balls?! This kind of name is absolutely meaningless. (End of italicization)

The rest of the demons then scrambled to declare their own names, each one more unbearable than the last; they seemed to take much pride in them. /end excerpt and ID]

Eulef from Unlucky Clover

Characters: Eulalie Burak x Clef Pumi

Submission: Childhood friends with a secret that puts tension in their relationship! The secrets that Eu are hiding from Clef could tear apart their friendship or make them closer than ever before. I just want them to kiss okay.

Source

Bamboo Balls / ZhuBalls from The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System (SVSSS)

Characters: Six Balls x Zhuzhi-lang

No propaganda submitted

Fic Rec: Right Person, Wrong Time by corduroyserpent

[Please be kind and respectful in the notes. Anti-Propaganda is NOT allowed.]

[nutmeg-mayonnaise]

(Gregory Wright AU)

I was supposed to pair this artwork with this ask, but it was posted by mistake when the art wasn't done yet.

After I finished AAI2, I had to draw Raymond Shields with Gregory. I was sad to realize how much he would age--he's about 66 here--but it was really fun to design him older and make a drawing in a similar style to the other photos he took in AAI2.

I also wrote a short story of these two meeting for the first time, and the circumstances around the photo below the cut. It's about 2500 words long. Hope you enjoy it! ˙ᵕ˙

“Good luck with your trial Mr. Edgeworth.”

My adoptive father sighed. “We’re not in the courtroom, Gregory. You needn’t be so formal.”

I chuckled. “I can’t help that you brought me up as a professional, Pop.”

“Indeed.” He turned to the door of the courtroom. “I’ll see you at your dad’s office.”

I waved at him and headed to a nearby vending machine to get a cup of coffee. As I watched the paper cup fill with my much needed source of caffeine, I heard someone greet me from behind.

“Hello, Mr. Wright!” I spun around and looked at him. He was an older man in a trench coat with gray, curly hair poking out from under his black fedora. He grinned at me as he walked by.

“H-hello.” Do I know you? I watched him do a double-take. He stopped and turned around. He leaned forward and adjusted his thin, rectangular glasses with his thumb and index finger.

“It might be my aging eyes, but you look shorter than I remember!”

“I guess the courtroom makes everyone look a little bigger, huh?” I thought maybe this man may’ve observed one of my trials.

He tilted his head at me with a stern expression, but he checked his watch. “Well, it was nice seeing you! Best of luck with work!”

“You, too.”

It then occurred to me that he may have confused me for my dad, who I got my last name from. It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened.

I took my coffee from the vending machine and heard Pop make his opening statement from within the hall. I smiled. At home, he was usually soft spoken, but once he was at the prosecution desk—or annoyed with my dad—he was resonant.

As I turned to go on my way, I saw the strange, old man linger at the door to the courtroom Pop was in. He had his hands in his pockets and gazed wistfully at the door.

That was a few months before I knew who he was.

“You have a son?”

Pop sighed. “Yes…”

“And he’s a defense attorney?!”

“Yes…”

“What a twist of fate! Say, does he need a mentor? I could take on an apprentice.”

“I appreciate the offer, but you must realize how many people in law Gregory has grown up with.”

Ray Shields stopped to have a hearty chuckle. “No offense, Miles, but I think he ought to learn from an actual defense attorney and not from that family of prosecutors.”

This made Pop uncomfortable. Although Mr. Shields was my grandfather’s apprentice and he and Pop worked together briefly nearly thirty years ago, their relationship has always been somewhat estranged. 

Mr. Shields always had a chip on his shoulder when it came to prosecutors. I can’t say I blame him, considering one murdered my grandfather—Mr. Shield's mentor—and took my father in as his adoptive son on some sick power trip. However, Pop never really kept Mr. Shields up to speed with his own personal life.

“He’ll be fine.” Pop finally said after a few moments of silence. “My partner—his… father—is a defense attorney.” Mr. Shields had his own moment of silence.

“Hold on a second, Gregory Wright? As in Phoenix Wright? He’s your kid’s father—wait, he’s your partner, too?!” 

Pop is not overfond of detailing his personal life to anyone—especially to anyone in the law business. It took him a while to finally say, “That is correct.”

“...You really need to keep Uncle Ray in the loop a little more, Miles.”

After that exchange, Pop arranged a meeting with me and Mr. Shields at a cafe in town. “I want to see how your boy thinks as an attorney,” he told Pop. I didn’t mind meeting him. I was curious about my grandfather, and I was sure Mr. Shields was curious about me.

I arrived at the cafe and ordered a large chai tea—something I seldom had at home since Pop prefers English teas. I took a seat and waited for Mr. Shields to show up.

I was lost in my thoughts until I noticed an older man in a trench coat and a black fedora walk into the cafe. He looked around, like he was looking for somebody. He looked awfully suspicious, until something on his lapel caught my eye: a defense attorney badge.

Then it dawned on me: it was the man that confused me for my dad, and lingered around the door to the courtroom. Small world.

I saw Mr. Shield’s eyes light up when he saw me. His thin, gray mustache stretched as he smiled at me and walked my way. I sat up from my seat as I saw him extend a hand towards me.

“Mr. Gregory Wright!” He said as I grabbed his hand. He shook pretty firmly for an old guy.

“Raymond Shields!” He put his other hand over mine and continued to shake.

“It is an honor to meet Mr. Gregory Edgeworth’s grandson!” I smiled awkwardly at him, thinking it odd that he skipped over Pop to mention my grandfather, but I didn’t know about his resentment towards prosecutors at that time.

“Pleasure’s all mine.”

I stood in line with him as he ordered coffee and a scone. We had a bit of small talk over coffee and tea and how much he loved the cafe’s scones.

“You know, the original owner of the cafe was your grandfather’s last client.”

My eyes shot wide. “Was he?” 

“Seems like your old man doesn’t tell you much about your granddad, does he?” Mr. Shields raised an eyebrow at me.

He was right. All Pop really told me about him was that Dad named me after him, that he was a defense attorney, and that he was no longer with us. Most of what I knew about my grandfather was through my mom and Dad, and Pop wasn’t around when they told me about him. I guess it’s still a sore spot for him after all these years.

I’m really lucky I have three parents, but I would be devastated if anything happened to any of them. Pop only had my grandfather. I can’t even begin to imagine the pain Pop had to go through… so I forgive him for not wanting to reminisce with me. Thankfully, I could learn a little more about him from Mr. Shields.

“Let’s play a little game, Mr. Wright.”

“Call me ‘Gregory’.” Mr. Shields pressed his lips together. His eyes gazed down on the table. I grimaced. “O-or you can call me ‘Grey’. That’s what most of my family on my mom and dad’s side call me.” Mr. Shields smiled.

“And you can call me Uncle Ray, Grey.” He chuckled. “Grey and Uncle Ray. I like the sound of that.”

I chuckled nervously. “So about this game…”

“Right! For the game, I’ll ask you a question, and then you ask me a question. How’s that sound?” I nodded. He took a bite of his scone and gestured to me. “You go first.”

I tapped my fingers on the table, thinking. I’ve heard plenty about the DL-6, the case in which my grandfather was the victim of murder. I met him once when I was very young when my Aunt Pearls channeled him with my family so he could meet me, but I knew nothing about my grandfather as a person.

“What did you admire the most about my grandfather?”

Mr. Shields smiled and looked fondly out the café window. “His commitment to finding the truth. He wasn’t afraid to stand up to corruption, even if it made things harder for him in the end.” Hearing this made my heart feel full.

I smirked. “Feels like I’ve heard that mantra my whole life.” 

Mr. Shields smiled. “Probably from Mr. Wright, right?”

I shook my head. “My Pop—er, Mr. Edgeworth, too. Nothing is more important to both of them than uncovering the truth. They ingrained that into me even before I wanted to be a lawyer.”

Ray took another bite out of a scone and I watched his lips curl into a smile. “So… for my first question—I have to ask because I know your old man probably won’t tell me—how long have your dads been together?”

“Well, Pop started staying at my dad’s to help him take care of me when I was two.” I forced a smile. It’s not the first time anyone’s assumed the nature of their relationship, so I like to play dumb.

Mr. Shields looked at me with small eyes. “Is that when they started dating?”

“I think it's my turn for a question, Uncle Ray.”

I gave him a grin. “Alright, alright… I suppose you won’t tell me either.”

“Sorry,” I said with a smile. I didn't think it was any of his business. Besides, if Pop knew I detailed his home life with my dad to Mr. Shields, he would kill me—then my mom would kill him, and I don't think my dad would be able to defend her in court.

Mr. Shields gestured his hand upwards. “Anyway, what’s your next question?”

I put my fist to my cheek and looked up. “Seeming as you’re quite the seasoned attorney, looking back, what do you think Gregory Edgeworth could’ve done better?”

Mr. Shields smiled. “Asking the tough questions, eh, Grey?” He sighed and his posture sunk. It was as if didn’t want to dare criticize his late mentor. “I think… he could’ve shown his feelings more—both to his clients, and to those close to him.” I made an amused huff. I felt that way about Pop. “Your old man didn’t even know that your grandpa was worried about him.”

“Really? What was he worried about?”

“He was worried about his boy spending too much time with his nose in his law books and not enough time making friends and… being a kid.”

I frowned. I thought about my own childhood. I played. I had friends. I also did plenty of snooping through both my dad and Pop's law books—especially Dad's, and most of them were really my late Aunt Mia’s books. Sometimes when I was in Dad's office after school and I finished my homework early, and I didn’t feel like reading the comics and fiction books my mom left in the office, I'd skim through the law books until Pop came at the end of the day to take us home. When Dad was out of the office after school, I'd hop on the bus, go to Pop's office in the Prosecutor building and look at his books until we would get in the car and pick up my dad from wherever he was.

My earliest memories of Pop was of him teaching me things like how to read and write. I mostly played with Dad and my mom when she was around, but when either of them were busy or away for some reason, Pop would certainly try to play with me. He was happy when I was old enough to play strategy games like chess.

I couldn't help but wonder if things would be different if Pop was the only one who raised me. Would I have played less? Would Pop worry about me?

“I see,” I said, getting out of my head.

Mr. Shields smiled. “Anyway, I have another burning question for you.” I saw his eyes move down to my neck. “What’s that odd-looking stone you have instead of a good tie?”

I glanced down and smiled. “Oh, this is my magatama—well, it’s my late aunt’s. She was also a defense attorney.”

“Oh?”

“Does ‘Mia Fey’ of Fey & Co. Law Offices ring a bell?” I watched Mr. Shields squint his eyes, thinking thoughtfully. 

“Ah, yes! Now that you say it, I recall reading about her m… her unfortunate death in the papers. However, I don’t recall if I ever met her.” He smiled at me. “Thirty years is a long time ago.” He then gestured back at my magatama. “So tell me about this… mega-tama.”

I looked down and held it between my index finger and thumb. “It’s a charm that members of the Fey Clan use.”

“Those fortune-tellers?”

“Well, no. They’re spirit mediums—at least the women are.” I took a deep breath and glanced down. There weren’t a lot of men in the Fey Clan. As a matter of fact, I’m the only one I know of, and I am definitely not a spirit medium.

“Ah! So they’re a bunch of ladies who can talk to ghosts!”

I nodded slowly. “Sort of. Anyway, my mother is the head of the Fey Clan, and the master of the Kurain Spirit Channeling Technique. She gave me this when… I was small.” Mr. Shields sat back in his chair, eyebrows raised.

“Your mother’s their leader, huh?” He smirked. I nodded. “I must say, Daddy-Wright has… interesting taste in partners.” That one got a mild chuckle out of me. “And I imagine you wear that in honor of your mother’s family and the memory of your Aunt.”

I nodded. “Exactly.”

He crossed his arms and smiled. “That’s sweet.”

We exchanged more questions which moved beyond our relations and into our profession. We had a good chat about the legal system and how much it has changed in the nearly fifty years he Mr. Shields was an attorney. I was happy he had the stage for the most part so I could sip on my chai tea—which had long turned cold. After telling me stories about his career for about a couple hours, he looked at his watch.

“Well Grey, your Uncle Ray ought to get going.” I quickly glanced at my phone to check the time, and saw a missed call and a text from Pop.

“Likewise.”

He stood up out of his chair and extended his arm for another handshake. I stood up and we shook.

“It was great meeting you, Uncle Ray.”

He smiled, but I noticed his whole face light up, and he put his hands together. “Oh! One more thing. Could you come over here?”

I raised my eyebrow and walked to him. He pulled out an old—and I mean really old—camera, and turned it toward us. “U-Uncle Ray?”

“Say ‘Cheese!’” I saw a flash and I was amazed to see a photo come out of the camera's body a moment later. I’ve only heard of cameras like those, but I’ve never seen one in person. Mr. Shields took the photo and he had a big smile. “Oh good, it still works!” 

“The camera?”

“Yes, I need it for my, erm, investigation this afternoon.”

“Can’t you just use your phone?” Mr. Shields waved his hand. 

“What’s the fun in that? I like having them printed out so I can attach them to my wall in the office and see everything all at once.”

“You can also just… print photos out at any—”

“Gregory, I’m old. Leave me to do things as I always have.”

I smiled at him calling me by my full, first name. “Fair enough.”

“I’ll be seeing you, Mr. Gregory Wright, and don’t be afraid to give ol’ Uncle Ray a call or pay a visit to your grandpa’s Law Office.”

“I just might do that.”

[terrence-silver]

Started rewatching Karate Kid III, but got distracted and started watching an old western with Lon Chaney(Jr.), thought of the original Phantom of the Opera🖤, promptly went down the rabbit hole of filmography for Chaney Sr., and I realized so, SO many movies from 1910-1920 are just lost?? It broke my heart a bit, even though they were most likely very short silent films.

But! I learned that the wealthy would sometimes buy the film reel (if not the only film reel of a film.. ever) and add it to their own ✨️private collection✨️. Anyways, can you imagine how romantic of a date that would be with Terry? Watching some old, old movies, that have probably been exclusive to his family alone for years. Getting to indulge in champagne and sweets, cuddled up to 6 foot 5 man, as some poor sap has to crank the ole projector. Maybe manipulating beloved to feel exclusive in his life, or.. maybe he's sincere in trying to make beloved feel special🤭

---

I always felt a date with Terry Silver in any era would have this...slightly surreal quality.

Because, yeah, consider it; he owns so many antiques. So many rare weapons. So many vintage wines. So many cars. So many things you can only ever acquire if you're in possession of an exuberant amount of money and some questionable connections, like in the case of his old Rembrandt that was thought lost for ages or the fact that he lived in a mansion resembling a Mayan Temple (that is thought to be haunted according to urban legend), that it is a bit like entering a world of it's own entirely, or hey, to keep with the topic of this ask, even the movies this man watches, they aren't movies anyone else watches or can watch. Why? Because they're forgotten films only a sinfully rich collector like himself could get their hands on from all sorts of unlikely sources, meaning that you're literally seeing something...you've never seen before. And he might even highlight that, entirely proud of himself.

-"Now,"- He begins, slapping his hands together in contentment followed by a smile as a silent assistant handling the delicate material with gloved hands inside of his home theatre cranks that projector and the reel lights up the hall, flickering. -"I'll bet you've never seen anything like this."-

And you've indeed never seen any of the lost French documentaries of Georges Méliès between 1895-96, Japanese movies thought to have disappeared during WWII, any of the flicks on the BFI 75 Most Wanted list, Andy Worhol's first ever film, Theda Bara's Cleopatra, the complete works of Valeska Suratt, flicks Terry swears were discovered in a salt mine somewhere, the first ever 'talkies', prints thought destroyed in the 1965 MGM vault fire, London After Midnight, The First Men in The Moon from 1919 or goodness gracious, even some exceptionally rare erotica scraped up from the bottom of some forgotten archive somewhere because nobody else has seen any of them either in over a century. You're sipping a wine older than you are, you've just got the exclusive tour of his collection of centuries old weapons and now you're watching a movie human eyes haven't seen in over a hundred years. It is an intense experience. In fact, it's an experience that resembles a dream that is pretty difficult to explain even to your own self, which is not to say the experience would be bad, it would simply be...downright phantasmagorical. It might immediately hit you that Terry Silver is quite literally like no man you've ever met before, because no man you've ever met before has done any of this.

Or hey, since you've mentioned it, a movie exclusive to his family alone?

Why the heck not!

What if he's in possession of some short film reels or photographic clips he took in Vietnam? Hey, not all that unbelievable. Maybe you see some of familiar faces immortalized, like a young Kreese, some scrawny, curly haired kid mingling around or hey, who's that guy with the ponytail!? Goodness, is that a young Terry? If we want to go full-on creepy, he might just hum and confirm, saying yes, because who else could it possibly be? What if he owns some rather unsavory military movies he recorded; images of the dead kept like trophies. Interrogations. Torture. These things can go as far as imagination allows, or a brighter note, what if, say, his mother was an actress --- not a famous one, but someone who pumped out like one or two smaller projects in, for example, the 30's Silent era Hollywood before she got married and had him and those copies stayed in his family ever since because his father was staunch and very meticulous on who owns moving pictures containing his wife. Bought all the copies off of George Cukor for a smaller fortune back in the days, at the height of the Great Depression, no less.

-"Who is that?"- You may ask, cuddled up to him, struck with an odd familiarity following the woman on the screen. You shiver for reasons you cannot quite explain other than the fact that watching something so old can naturally give someone the occasionally eerie sensation. She vaguely reminds you of someone. -"My mother."- He could answer.

Whatever the case, whatever the scenario one deems most likely of these, or any others totally unrelated one might come up with, one thing is perfectly clear and that's that said movie evening isn't something that is easily forgotten, if ever.

[mvrtaiswriting]

heyyy hi hello i hope youre having a great day!! if your requests are open could you write smth with the song Dear Arkansas daughter (You with the dark curls, you with the watercolor eyes)? like a description of readers relationship with them and some of the moments in it? im fine with luffy, ace, marco, law, sabo. whoever you get inspiration for. thank youuuuuuuuuuuuuu <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3 p.s. it can be platonic or romantic, whatever you like & could reader have short hair?<3<3<3<3<3

ASL brothers x their relationship with you.

hiii, thanks for requesting this - i loved that song!! i'm not too sure whether these exactly fit the whole mood of the song, but I picked up a few lines from it that inspired me the most. for the sake of coherence i chose to go with the ASL brothers - hope you don't mind! these came out so cute, i'm actually quite happy ehe. enjoy them and lmk what you think!!!

warning: none. gn! reader.

feel free to reblog, like, and leave a comment. i would very much appreciate it. if you enjoy my works, click here to read more or buy me a coffee.

Luffy: you who bears all your teeth in every smile.

Hearing you laugh for the first time put a magic spell on Luffy, your giggles echoing in his mind like an unbearable ear worm since the very first moment. He loved the little creases the formed around your eyes every time you smiled wholeheartedly - your joyful grin was always able to light up the entire room. There was something addictive about the way happiness looked on you, and Luffy just couldn't get enough of it.

Despite his humorous nature, Luffy would always try and outdo himself to make you break a smile - from tickling you whilst playing fight to purposefully make Sanji and Zoro bicker amongst each other, using them as a source of entertainment.

It took a while for Luffy to realise that he didn't just love your smile. He loved the way you blushed when he put his straw-hat on you, your lips curving into the softest of smirks; the type of smiles you wouldn't gift to anyone else but him. He had a mental note of the way you wrinkled your nose when you grinned like a clever child who had just caused some trouble.

Your relationship feels like a soft breeze during a warm day; it's light-hearted, it's full of happiness and small moments that make your hearts flutter like the wings of the butterfly. Even during battles, you fight alongside as if you were dancing, taking swings left and right and complete each other's movements. The trust between the two of you is deep enough to leave no room for doubt - it's just you and him, the world is just your stage.

Ace: you with the dark curls, you with the watercolor eyes.

There is something so familiar about you that keeps Ace hooked up on you. The way your curly hair bounces off so carelessly as the wind blows through it almost felt as if he was looking at his own reflection - only, your hair were shorter, your features softer and your eyes were so colourful, almost as if they held the whole world within.

Was this the definition of soulmates? Ace wasn't quite sure. Yet, when he was with you, he felt at home. Even as a pirate, Ace didn't feel free to be his most reckless self. When you came around, you flipped his world upside down, encouraging his bad ideas and feeding of his interior child needs and being the most chaotic version of yourself - and that's what home was for Ace. When he was with you, Ace felt as if he was still a kid wondering around the island with his little brothers, causing troubles left and right just to piss Garp off.

Your relationship is pure adrenaline - he's fire and you're gasoline, he is the sun and you're the beautiful sunset that mesmerises everyone who dares to look at the sky. Everything is fun and becomes a challenge between the two of you, an excuse to touch each other and ease off from the responsibilities of being commanders of the White Beard pirates. You do everything together from getting scolded by Whitebeard himself to getting stitches in Marco's hospital room after jumping off a cliff and almost drown in the ocean.

Sabo: I can always hear you sing, I wanna hear you speak to me.

Sabo was sure there was something so painfully beautiful hidden behind your casual humming tunes, always avoiding silence to settle for too long. And he wanted to discover it, loosing himself in the labyrinths of your mind until your past became his present. Sabo knew your tactics, he was a master of deceiving others and always appear fine in the eyes of others. He had done it for so long he didn't even realised how much dust had collected under his carpet, how much ignoring his past was torturing him.

Your eyes had the same flicker his had - they wanted revenge, they craved redemption, something Sabo noticed since the first day you joined the revolutionary army. You managed to thrive in the most chaotic situations, animating rebellions and giving your all during fights - your devotion to the cause was so peculiar, so reckless that only someone who had been through hell and back could understand. And Sabo did - he saw the sparkles of your determination on the battlefield, and he understood them. He felt them burning on his own skin, remembering him of the very first night he decided he wanted to save himself from the pitfalls of hell and never return there.

The relationship between you and Sabo is complex at first, but with time it becomes so deep it almost feels visceral. Sabo doesn't look for a fleet, he wants his relationship to be meaningful and for the first time in years, he feels as if yours is the very first relationship that matters. You are the first person Sabo opens up about his past with - he shares with you thoughts that he didnt even realise he had. And so do you: it doesn't take much for you to realise that Sabo's hands are the safest you ever been in and before you even realise it, the walls you had built around your heart slowly tumble down, cracking an open door way shaped exactly like Sabo.

[plutos134340]

hiii pluto :3 you wanna tell me about ur ocs sooo bad /nf (also is calling you pluto ok ?)

Ooooooh i feel like i wanna tell u about them soooo badly (and yes im ok with being called pluto, it technically isnt my name- that which is natalie, but i am chill with pluto as well)

Long text under the paragraph bc i dont feel like subjecting the random viewer to a long post:

Ok so some background for the way my aus work: i suck at making my own characters, but i can like give traits and personalities to existing characters that dont have much in canon, or just replacing a pre-existing characters personality, so thats what i do time and time again. Then i make random characters for funsies

First au concept and darias place in it: So basically i had made some cliche fnaf au where like none of the kids ever died- ig i wanted some happiness in life. And i then made Daria to go along with them and she was Henry's kid and an older sister to Charlie. They also had another younger brother but he is irrelevant. She is best friends with michael afton, and was also closest to fritz and jeremy (foxy and bonnie) She is like a random oc but does has a lot of my traits bc i found it easier to cope with myself through a character with fake friendships rather than actually think about myself and the people i know.

Traits (physical and personality-wise): She is white and has pale-ish skin, and shes got shoulder-length, curly, brown hair (like 2C); she is white, and she is pretty tall. She has hazel eyes (the green and brown being separate kind of hazel because i have that eye color and i like my eyes 💀). Shes queer, specifically being bisexual and ace-spec, and is a cis girl. She is pretty down-to-earth, and is mostly a realist. One thing that has stayed true throughout her many forms is that she often forms intimate relationships with people quickly but can end up starting fights with the same people quickly. Idk where that came from but thats her.

😰😰😰😰😰😰

😰😰😰😰😰😰

And now the second au and all that jazz. I know you dont know much at all about cccc but basically there are these characters Heart, Mind and Soul, who are all technically personified parts of the singer's (chonny jash) brain. In this au they are all human and like half related to their original identities. They go by the names Juno, Keene and Atlas, respectively, with the collection of their names just coming from random sources in the songs (juno and atlas) and then i just picked a random name i saw for the last bc i didnt want to pick two similar names (it would have been Apollo if i did). Bc i love music oh so much, they are all basically in a band. I loooove cliche little tropes it just soothes my mind ig, idc how basic it is and its also just easier for me to imagine. Anywho, this brings Max and Lily into the picture, along with another girl i forgot originally bc i forgot that i created her (that being Terra). Terra is the creator of this band, and Max and Lily originally come from their school's regular band.

Max: He is mixed white/southeast asian, and has tan, freckled skin and short black hair. He is around 5'11. He has a pretty chill and kind personality, and can come off either quiet or loud/intense depending on where he is. He often pokes fun at people but never really crosses the line. In their little band he plays most woodwind instruments, mainly the saxophone. He is bisexual and a cis guy.

Lily (full name being Liliana): She is a Latina and is 5'2. She has long, wavy, black hair, tan skin, and dark brown eyes. She is very sweet and is very in-tune with her own and others' emotions, just overall very emotionally intelligent. She can be the life of the party and lively, but is often the first person to realize if someone else is having a bad time, but also wont jeopardize her own mental health in sake of someone else's just to please them. As said before she came from a general concert band before, and plays the trumpet and the flute mainly. She is straight and cis, but doesnt really put too much thought into her identity anyways.

Terra, who i somehow forgot when answering the ask: She is 5'11 as well, and is a Black woman. She has curly hair, which she keeps at around chin length, and it is black with dyed brown highlights. She was originally more reserved than the others, but has opened up to all of the group members and is pretty talkative. As mentioned before, she is the creator of this little band, and plays the drums. She is a trans girl.

Ok so yeah those are them. I kinda just picked a few categories (that being how they look and basic identity things, some personality stuff, and any sexual or gender orientations) to talk about for each and i hope i stuck to that setup well enough. The other three from the second one are like technically not ocs but i like hijacked their actual personalities and gave them new ones but i did not talk about them bc i do not need to ramble THAT much.

[seeminglyranch87]

Taylor & Travis Timeline

March 2024 - part 1

March 2 - The Eras Tour, National Stadium, Singapore

Taylor Nation hints at an announcement on Twitter, Taylorswfit.com goes down just showing a black screen, Taylor Swift goes LIVE on IG during the acoustic section, we watch her perform her piano section, she blows a kiss then disappears diving into the stage. Fans are left wondering what was going on?

Mine x Starlight (guitar)

I Don't Want to Live Forever x Dress (piano) (x)

March 3 - The Eras Tour, National Stadium, Singapore.

Taylor Swift announces 4th variant of The Tortured Poets Department with exclusive bonus song: The Black Dog (x x)

Long Story Short x The Story of Us (guitar)

Clean x Evermore (piano)

March 4 - The Eras Tour, National Stadium, Singapore.

Cute little moment - Taylor shares "My hair has returned it to its factory settings" with all the humidity sending her hair curly. (x)

Foolish One x Tell Me Why (guitar)

This Love x Call it What You Want (piano)

Travis joins his brother Jason Kelce as he tearfully announces his retirement from NFL after a 13 year career with the Philadelphia Eagles (x). Jason makes a moving speech and reflects on his relationship with Travis (21:30) Jason says

It's only too poetic. I found my career being fulfilled in the city of Brotherly Love. I knew that relationship all too well.

Travis is wearing friendship bracelets: T💛T , Travis Kelce is a... and "The Match" gold chain presumably from a golf tournament.

March 5 - Travis attends Cleveland Cavaliers Game in Cleveland, Ohio with brother Jason. Travis & Jason are presented with bobbleheads

Taylor spotted out for dinner with her backup singers in Singapore

March 6 - New Heights Ep. 80 airs. Travis and Jason Kelce discuss Travis' trip to Sydney, Australia to visit with Taylor (x 31:24)

Jason asks about how there was footage of Travis and Taylor at the Sydney Zoo? Travis answers

there were full-on helicopters just flying around. They helicoptered us, well not us, this is all because...

Taylor's the biggest and the best thing possible

Travis also talks about the Australian crowds at the Era's Tour, Sydney night 1 in February.

Australians are pretty Rowdy they like to have a good time yeah I like to have a good time gosh they were just like a little bit louder than the Argentinian crowd and I was not expecting that because Argentina was f****n loud and they were into it and and so was Sydney so Taylor's very fond of performing in Australia because of the crowds over there and how into it they get, so awesome shout out to Australia for showing up.

Personally feeling proud as an Aussie Swiftie!

Travis flies out to Singapore

March 7 - The Eras Tour, National Stadium, Singapore

Death By A Thousand Cuts x Babe (guitar)

Fifteen x You're On Your Own Kid (piano)

Travis and friends arrive in Singapore

Travis & Taylor head out to Gardens by the Bay after the show together (x)

Above image of Taylor & Travis was shared by Taylor on April 19, 2024 (x)

ET release article (x)

A source tells ET, "Taylor is super busy with her tour, but Travis and her are continuing to make things work. He is enjoying his life in the off season while trying to be as supportive as possible of Taylor. They make a great match and both see a real future together. They have talked about next steps and are on the same page."

March 8 - The Eras Tour, National Stadium, Singapore

Travis is in attendance with friends

Sparks Fly x Gold Rush (guitar) (x)

False God x Slut! (piano) (x)

“Karma is the guys on the Chiefs!” ❤️💛 (x x)

Travis cheers Taylor on until she meets him back stage for a kiss ( x x x x)

Taylor and Travis seen out for dinner at KOMA Japanese restaurant and Sushi Bar at Marina Bay Sands - Singapore with Taylor 's band and backup singers (x)

Travis pictured with fan at the concert - such kind words about Travis. Posted on IG March 10.

March 9 - The Eras Tour, National Stadium, Singapore

Travis is in attendance with friends for a second night in Singapore.

Tim McGraw x Cowboy Like Me (guitar)

Mirrorball x Epiphany (piano)

Taylor sings "Karma is the guy on the chiefs coming straight home to me" once again and has sweet interaction with Travis as she takes her bow at the end of the show, grinning, waving and blowing kisses to each other (x x x)

Taylor & Travis leave Singapore together returning to the USA.

March 10 - Taylor & Travis arrive in Los Angeles

ET article (x)

A source tells ET that [Taylor] is "happier than ever and so in love."

"She likes that Travis is so proud of her and that he isn't afraid to show his love for her publicly,"

"She is in a great place and having the best time performing, making music, and feeling free to live her life more openly," the source adds. "Travis is enjoying being on tour with Taylor and is happy to support her."

"Taylor views Travis as a true partner and someone she can have a real future with."

Academy Awards & Oscars After Parties

According to People (x)

The pair [Taylor & Travis] attended Gucci's 16th annual event known as "The Party" on Sunday night, which was held at talent manager Guy Oseary's home.

"They were on the patio and in great moods. She had a very happy, giant smile," a guest at the party tells PEOPLE. "He was protective of her and she was delightful and glowing — they seemed very happy together and loving the night."

Travis is photographed with an Oscar...

Billy Eichner reveals his interaction with Travis & Taylor at the Oscars party - posted 5 Dec. 24 (x)

March 11 - Travis is out for lunch at Cecconi's in LA with some friends

March 12 - according to ET (x) with reference to “The Party” on March 10 into the early hours of the morning March 11…

The source added the GRAMMY-winning songstress and the Kansas City Chiefs' tight end were in high spirits throughout the evening, seen smiling, dancing, and engaging in conversations with friends.

Meanwhile, an eyewitness tells ET that the couple selected "The Party" because "they knew they would have privacy there." The eyewitness added, "They had a great time and were super cool to the other attendees. They felt like they could relax and kick back because of the no cellphone and photo policy. They spent most of the night close together and by each other's sides and looked happy and in love. They also spent time talking and hanging out with Miles and Keleigh [Teller]."

Travis records New Heights Podcast in LA (x)

Go to previous update -> February 2024 part 2

Go to next update -> March 2024 part 2

Return to the timeline

[pasha2241]

8 Years On

"The ability to have a choice in what you do is a privilege." 

I'm in college now (yay), and I still can't forget how much seeing his portrayal of Chekov impacted how I viewed my own quirks and interests. A little (tangential) personal story: I used to be really insecure about having curly hair as a kid especially as someone who lives in a region where not many people really have curly hair. When they do, its the norm to straighten it out or cut it really short so that the curls aren't too noticeable (hayst 😩). Along came his films and it somehow made me more comfortable about having curly hair; and I remember seeing him play some character or another and go "huh, curls are actually pretty dope". Years later and voila, I prefer having my hair be its natural self.

He still remains a major source of inspiration for me.

Rest in peace, Anton.

[allwaswell16]

Hi! Can you recommend some Sad Louis fics?? The most recent ones you have please?? Thank you babe!!

Hi, anon! So I don't have a ton that I've read recently, but I'll list the ones I have and add on a few recent ones that caught my eye to read. Also, if you want a longer rec, let me know and I can add your request to my pinned post!

- SAD LOUIS FICS -

[Read Recently]

what's left of my halo's black by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove

As Harry sucks lovebites into Louis’ neck, Louis hopes that one day those marks will cover the way he can still feel Alex’s handprints burned into his flesh.

As Harry’s nails drag scratches along Louis’ back, Louis hopes that one day the scabs on his heart will heal and drop away just like the scabs on his skin.

As Harry fucks him down into the mattress, the bed shaking with every thrust, Louis hopes that one day his mouth will forget the shape of Alex’s name, won’t trace it over and over as the heat builds inside him, won’t want to scream it when he comes. Maybe one day he’ll open his eyes, as he slowly floats down from his post-orgasm haze, and won’t expect to see Alex’s face smiling back at him.

But today is not that day.

A year after a devastating breakup, Louis is still trying to put himself back together - but getting over a breakup is hard when you work as a wedding planner. Thankfully, his coworker Harry is the most supportive friend Louis could ask for. But Harry has some secrets of his own, and they send Louis' world spinning off its axis all over again.

Based on the song "Holding On To Heartache" by Louis Tomlinson

My Other Half Was You by @lululawrence

Louis turned the corner to head to Niall and Lewis’ music shop, and slammed right into someone.

“Shit,” Louis gasped, gripping the person’s shoulders in an attempt to remain standing. “God, I’m so sorry!”

“No, I’m sorry,” the man said. “Uh, you steady?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry again.” Louis blinked a few times and then took a step back. It was only then that he finally glanced up to the man’s eyes. They were a clear, bright green, and curly brown hair fell onto his forehead.

“I should probably…” The man trailed off, motioning towards the antique shop behind Louis.

“Right, sorry,” Louis apologized again, stepping aside.

“It’s alright. Have a good day.”

“You too,” Louis replied as the man disappeared around the corner.

By the age of 30, Louis' entire life trajectory had changed from what he'd thought it would be. He moved back to the town he grew up in and did his best to pull himself and his life back together again.

Four years, seven months, and sixteen days after the day that changed everything, Louis turns a corner and literally runs into the man who just might change it all again.

[ On My To Read List ]

Wish It Could Be The Same As It Was by The_Halcyonic_Lachesist / @chai-hat-tea

After a chance encounter with Harry, Louis has to learn to go back to life as it was. For a while at least.

Not A Solo Song - A Series by LilyBlue28

The first night of Faith in the Future World Tour is a smashing success, but emotions run high when he's left all alone. The heaviness of getting everything he's ever wanted is hard to overcome. But when it all gets to be too much, the smallest, most unexpected reminder of strength finds him just when he needs it the most.

READ LIKE A HEADLINE by The_Halcyonic_Lachesist / @chai-hat-tea

Louis Tomlinson, a singer-turned-actor is the source of tabloid gossip and his latest project is jeopardised when the media interferes again. Tired of life handing him the short end of the stick at every turn, he finds himself at a bar drowning in his sorrows. A kind stranger tries to cheer him up, but Louis soon realises that the stranger does so much more than that.

Inspired by 'Headlines' from the album 'Faith in the Future' by 'Louis Tomlinson'.

[owlmoonboi]

The walls were yellow. God, I hate yellow. I could feel my stomach twisting in a knot and a lump in my throat. "You look a little green," a boy with short curly brown hair said. I nodded slightly, not properly, as I knew I was going to spew soon. "Follow me," he said and tugged me on the arm.

He led me down a hallway to the bathroom. I leaned over the cold, metal bowl. "Blah!" My stomach heaved, and vomit splashed into the sides of the bowl. He patted me on the back, helping me get it all out. I pulled a piece of toilet paper out of the rusted dispenser; it was sharp enough to cut. I wiped my mouth and got up slowly, feeling like the room was spinning. I washed my hands with squishy, pink soap, but the hand dryer didn't work, so I wiped my hands on my jeans. "Are you okay now?" he asked, his hand on my shoulder. "I think so," I mumbled shyly, but what I really wanted to say was, "I am now that I met you." He looked like a model with his blue eyes, olive skin, dark brown curly hair, heart-shaped lips, tall frame, and muscly arms.

We walked back to the room, which once had yellow walls but was now covered in leaves and flowers. Birds chirped all around. "What happened? How did the room change?" I wondered. I stood there in shock, and the boy ran to the door on the other side of the room, moving at the speed of light. The door was red and made of wood. I spun around in the room, trying to get a proper view.

As I spun, the leaves fell to the floor, and the flowers browned. I could smell smoke, and the room began to fill with golden flames. "Run to the door! We've got to go! Now!" the boy screamed. I tried to run, but my feet felt glued to the ground. I shook my legs to unstick my feet and plummeted to the floor. I tried to stand, but I wasn't strong enough. I felt my bones breaking like glass smashing. Unable to stand, I slithered across the floor, but the fire spread, trapping me in a ring of fire.

I tried to huddle into a ball, but the pain was too much. The fire consumed me, cutting through my skin. I opened my mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Tears dripped down my face like bullets against my hot skin. The world became a fiery nightmare, and I felt like I was burning alive. The pain was unbearable, and I desperately wished for someone to save me.

The next time I awoke, I found myself in an unfamiliar room. It was dimly lit by a small lamp, casting soft shadows against the white walls and a cool grey floor. The beds, like the walls, were white, each adorned with pristine white bedding. I was not alone; there were twelve other kids in the room, ranging from the youngest at six to the eldest at eighteen.

A hazy feeling hung over me, and the dream I'd had felt almost like a distant memory. I murmured to myself, "Was it all just a dream?" I hesitated to wake anyone with my pondering.

As I started to come to my senses, I heard the faint, almost imperceptible sound of someone crying. The quiet sobs, soft and melancholic, revealed the source to be a child. My stomach churned with empathy as the cries slowly grew louder. It was a young girl, sitting up in her bed. Her vibrant red hair sat neatly in a bob cut, an image I noticed was mirrored by the other girls. In contrast, the boys' heads were shaved. Curiously, my own hair was cut short, but not shaved. The sides and back were closely cropped, leaving a long, floppy fringe that brushed over my right eye. I touched my hair, my fingers feeling the short strands.

I gently moved to her bedside, and she looked up at me through teary eyes. "Are you okay?" I asked, my voice soft and reassuring. I wasn't quite sure why, but I had an urge to provide comfort. "Actually, what is your name?"

Tears clung to her rosy cheeks as she replied, "No, I'm not. I'm cold, and I miss Mummy and Daddy. I want them to tell me everything will be alright."

I nodded, understanding. "I see. I'm not a parent, but I can tell you this: just stay strong, and everything will end up alright in the end." I attempted to offer some solace. Even if these words couldn’t help her, they are words I feel I need to hear.

She smiled faintly through her tears. "My name is Amber. What's your name?"

For a moment, I was taken aback, not knowing how to answer. Then I remembered the radiant green writing on my left hand. "Seven!" I said, a mixture of curiosity and confusion in my tone.

Amber, still smiling slightly, seemed to notice my hesitation. "Seven is an unusual name. But that's your name?"

I could only nod in response.

Amber's tears had ceased, and she mustered the energy to ask, "May you please sit with me and maybe even tell me a story?"

I contemplated her request for a moment before agreeing. I took a seat at the end of her bed, ready to offer some storytelling comfort.

"Once upon a time," I began, "there was a boy named Jack who lived with his Mother on a farm."

But Amber interrupted, her voice soft but determined, "I don't want that story. Tell me a different one, please."

I sighed, feeling the weight of her young eyes upon me. "Alright," I acquiesced. "How about the story of Alice?"

"Please, go on," she whispered, settling in with her head on two pillows. Her trust and anticipation were palpable.

So, I started, "Alice ran through the woods, chasing a white rabbit in a red suit jacket. 'I'm late! I'm late! I'm late for a date!' he exclaimed as he checked his pocket watch."

Amber was clearly engrossed, hanging onto every word. I continued to narrate the tale of Alice's whimsical adventures, describing how she followed the white rabbit through a tunnel formed from tree roots, leading to a mysterious world where cakes made her grow larger and drinks made her shrink. The details flowed as the story unfolded.

As I neared the end, describing Alice's successful journey through a keyhole, I felt Amber's breathing grow slower and more rhythmic, her eyes closing in peaceful slumber. I gently pulled her blankets over her, making sure she was comfortable.

Once she was settled, I retreated to my own bed, feeling a strange sense of unity among the inhabitants of this mysterious place.

The blaring sound of a loud bell sliced through the air, yanking me from a restless slumber. "Get up, sleepyheads!" A woman's voice, grating like nails on a chalkboard, filled the room. She stomped about, violently ripping the blankets off each of us one by one. Her ash blonde hair was pulled into a loose bun, but her most striking feature was an enormous wart on her face, seemingly the size of the Earth. She was adorned in a long, dark blue dress that cascaded to her feet.

Groans of protest echoed through the room as the woman, who I presumed to be our caretaker, bellowed, "Rise and shine, it's cleaning time!" She flung open the curtains and carelessly tossed an array of cleaning supplies onto the floor, leaving them to sprawl haphazardly. After her bizarre proclamation, she exited the room, her footsteps fading as she disappeared down the corridor.

I begrudgingly pulled myself out of the thin, uncomfortable bed, wincing as the motion sent a sharp pang through my back. Sleep had been a scarce luxury here, marred by the discomfort of the bed, which felt as though it were made from a cut-in-half mattress. The idea of finding some solace in sleep was nothing but a distant dream in this place.

My mind raced with questions as I begrudgingly picked up a broom. The other inhabitants of the room reluctantly followed suit, similarly equipped with brooms and other cleaning tools. They moved around mechanically, their bodies showing the toll of restless nights.

With the broom in hand, I strolled around the room, going through the motions without any real intention of cleaning. At the far end of the room, opposite to where our uninvited guest had entered, was a solitary door, a vivid contrast in a room that was otherwise awash in muted tones. This door was blue, a striking deviation from the monotonous surroundings.

I moved closer, an unspoken curiosity compelling me to explore what lay on the other side. A nagging worry gnawed at me; what if we weren't meant to leave this place? What if there were consequences to going against our invisible captors' rules? I half-turned to ensure that the other occupants hadn't noticed my impending departure, not wanting to invite trouble.

But as I looked back, I was confronted with a shocking sight – everyone in the room had begun to melt. Panic gripped me as I stammered, "What's going on? Are you okay?" But my voice fell on deaf ears as the process continued, their forms gradually merging with the carpet until they were indistinguishable from it. My heart raced as I realized my compatriots had succumbed to some inexplicable fate.

Dreadfully aware that the next could be me, I hastily decided to push open the blue door, the last remaining tether to the reality I knew. The alternatives seemed far worse than the unknown that lay beyond.

I stepped through the door, and the world shifted once more. It was a long, seemingly endless corridor with white walls that slowly began to close in on me as I advanced, creating a sense of claustrophobia. At the far end, there was another door, not much taller than me. This door was a vibrant shade of purple, a stark contrast to the environment that had enveloped me.

I reached for the handle, my hand trembling with uncertainty, and slowly turned it, revealing a sense of weariness and trepidation. I pondered the symbolism of the door's colors, wondering if they held the key to understanding the enigma that had entrapped me thus far. The mystery that shrouded this place was ever-present, and I could not help but wonder whether any of it was real or a creation of my own imagination.

As the door creaked open, the blinding sunlight outside temporarily blinded me, and the sweltering heat hit me like a wave. My surroundings had transformed yet again, and I found myself amidst a chaotic scene. The barren, white corridor had given way to a bustling landscape filled with tents, huts, and people in disarray.

Mothers hurriedly cradled crying babies and restless young children. Volunteers moved through the area, distributing food, water, and blankets, while other refugees lined up, their eyes filled with weariness. My mind raced as I realised I was in a refugee camp.

With a sense of urgency and a desire to escape this place, I began to roam the area, searching for any sign of a door that could offer an exit. I turned to look back at the entrance I'd used, but it had vanished without a trace, leaving me feeling isolated and alone in this enigmatic realm.

Amid the cries and chaos, I heard a heart-wrenching sob, growing louder as I drew closer. It was a young boy, writhing on a blanket, undergoing a terrifying transformation into a green, monstrous figure. He cried out in fear, "No! No, don't hurt me!"

The boy was alone, seemingly in a state of trance, as he twisted and turned. My heart ached for him. I couldn't stand to witness his agony without doing something to help. I reached out, softly rubbing his back as my other hand ran through his unruly hair. I whispered soothing words, "It'll be okay. It's going to be alright." Gradually, his cries subsided, and he sat up, confusion and fear etched across his face. He finally asked, "Who are you?"

"I'm Seven," I replied, offering a reassuring smile. "I'm here to help you. Are you feeling any better now? It seemed like you were having a bad dream."

As the boy wiped his lingering tears, a remarkable transformation took place. His green, monstrous features began to recede, and his human form re-emerged. His skin lost its eerie hue, and he slowly reverted to his natural self. "I think so," he said, his voice trembling with uncertainty. "I have a lot of nightmares, and I've been here alone for so long. Everyone leaves me when I turn into a monster. I wish I could be normal."

With a newfound sense of purpose, I assured him, "I'm not going to leave you. Let's find someone who can give us some food. You must be hungry, and it's the least I can do." The boy's eyes sparkled with hope, and he nodded eagerly.

We set off together, hand in hand, my fingers gently clasped around his soft, small hand. He was small, standing at the height of my waist, and I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of responsibility for this newfound companion.

As we continued walking, my mind was still haunted by the sudden transformation of my fellow inhabitants in the room. Questions continued to swirl, and my thoughts returned to that mysterious woman who had ushered us out of our beds and into this perplexing labyrinth. I couldn't help but wonder if her influence extended beyond the rooms of our confinement.

In my quiet contemplation, I experienced a peculiar vision or daydream, like a distant memory. I saw myself walking down a sunlit street, clutching the warm, reassuring hand of a woman who felt like my mother. My younger self radiated happiness, and the world around me seemed to glow with warmth and security.

In the vision, we were on our way to a library, and I couldn't understand the muffled words the woman spoke. Yet, her touch and the warmth of her hand were enough to make me feel safe and cherished. The vision gradually faded away, leaving me with a sense of longing and nostalgia for the love and comfort I had once known.

But as the vision dissipated, I realised that I was still holding the boy's hand. My past and present, intertwined in this surreal place, had transformed me from the one who received care and protection to the one offering it. My journey had taken an unexpected turn, and the mystery of this enigmatic world continued to unravel.

Together, the boy and I pressed on, guided by the desire to escape this realm and discover the truth about the doors, the rooms, and the strange woman who controlled our fate.

A woman in a burqa, along with her children, had offered us a small piece of naan bread. It was a gesture of kindness and generosity that touched my heart, despite the lingering pain in my stomach. With a grateful smile, I passed the piece of bread to Oscar, who eagerly accepted it. It was evident that nourishment was desperately needed, particularly for a young child whose frail frame revealed the harsh reality of malnutrition.

Sitting with our newfound companions, I tried to make Oscar feel comfortable in this unfamiliar setting. He was hesitant at first, his apprehension evident in his wide eyes and timid smile. I offered him a comforting hug, hoping to convey the warmth and security he so desperately needed. His gap-toothed smile in response was a poignant reminder that even amid dire circumstances, a glimmer of innocence and hope could endure.

As the days and nights passed within the refugee camp, the bond between Oscar and me deepened. The sleepless nights spent side by side on a shared blanket, my protective presence, and the comfort I provided seemed to ease the anxiety that had gripped him. In the quiet moments of the night, I often contemplated my own past, the mysteries of my existence, and the dreams that hinted at a profound connection to a distant world.

One particular dream, vivid and inexplicable, continued to haunt my thoughts. I found myself standing at the window of a room with green walls, gazing at a dark blue sky adorned with countless twinkling stars. Among them, a solitary star shone brilliantly, like a guiding beacon. In the quiet solitude of the dream, I recognized the significance of the star—a shooting star, the bringer of wishes.

In that ephemeral realm of slumber, my wish was simple yet profound: to uncover the truth concealed by the veil of secrecy surrounding my identity. My adoptive parents' silence had only fueled my curiosity, and I longed to unravel the enigma of my origins.

Then, as if woven from the fabric of the dream itself, a door appeared—golden and mysterious. With trepidation coursing through my veins, I reached out to the doorknob, realizing that it held the key to answers I had sought for so long. I told myself that the door had a purpose, and that purpose was mine to discover.

Stepping through the golden door, I found myself in the room with yellow walls—the very room where this extraordinary journey had begun. It was a bewildering experience, the boundary between dreams and reality blurring before my eyes.

As the sun's rays gradually cast light upon our surroundings, I awoke from my contemplation. Oscar and I shared a simple breakfast of rice and sultanas, a meager reprieve from the relentless heat and fatigue that had become our constant companions. The growl of Oscar's empty stomach was a stark reminder of the harsh reality of hunger that afflicted so many children worldwide.

Our journey continued, and I gently hoisted the frail Oscar onto my back, his small body barely making a dent in my own. The harsh sun beat down on us, its intensity unrelenting. With each step, sweat dripped from my brow, but I refused to let the harsh environment penetrate the sanctuary of my thoughts.

Amid the sweltering heat, I conjured images of a different world, one cloaked in the cool serenity of snow. It was a mental refuge, a place where the scorching heat of the refugee camp held no dominion over me. I retreated into these thoughts to shield myself from the relentless demands of the journey, the burdens of the past, and the uncertainty of our destination.

With Oscar in tow, I pressed onward, propelled by an unshakeable determination to find the answers that remained just out of reach. The quest for truth, the connection between my dreams and reality, and the unwavering commitment to protect and care for Oscar had become the driving forces that propelled us forward. We were two souls navigating a world fraught with uncertainty, and we clung to the hope that, one day, our questions would be answered, and our path would lead to safety and clarity.

As we pressed on through the desolate landscape, ominous black clouds gathered overhead, turning the once-clear sky into a foreboding canvas. Suddenly, a strange green rain began to fall, and it was unlike anything I had ever experienced. The raindrops were searing hot, sinking into my skin and reopening old wounds that had yet to heal. I felt as if I were a living canvas, bearing the indelible marks of bloodshed, tears, and countless cuts.

Oscar, my small companion, cried out in agony as the green rain pelted him. His tears mixed with the strange precipitation, and I could feel his wet face and snotty nose pressed against my back. His pain was palpable, and it cut me deeply, more than the searing rain.

"It burns! Make it stop," Oscar cried, his small voice trembling with fear.

"I know, bud. I'll do my best," I reassured him. Without hesitation, I removed my shirt, using it as a makeshift shield to protect him from the burning rain. His safety was paramount to me, even though it meant enduring the pain myself.

My feet, already battered and bruised from endless walking, began to throb with exhaustion. Cuts, lumps, and blisters covered them, making each step an agonizing endeavor. I’ve never walked on grass made of pins and needles or the shattered glass a beer bottle a grimacing man who feeds off young women so the beast inside him can kill the memories of his dead wife but that’s the only words that come to mind when walking in this agony.

"Let's sit here for just a few minutes so I can rest," I suggested, realizing the need to pause briefly for respite.

Oscar obediently sat in the dirt next to me, but before I could react, I noticed his tears. His transformation had begun, and he assumed his monstrous form—green and grumpy, his little face marred by anguish. I tried to console him, to wipe away his tears, but he squirmed away from my embrace, kicking the ground in frustration.

"I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do," I panted, a lump forming in my throat. I could feel my own tears welling up, a sense of helplessness weighing on me.

"It's not fair! I want Mummy. I miss her, but she's dead. Daddy killed her because I'm a monster," Oscar cried out, his pain and sorrow echoing in the barren landscape.

I held him tightly, the two of us caught in a cycle of despair and shared anguish. But Oscar's despair soon turned to anger, and he pushed my arms away and ran off.

I scrambled to my feet, but the sudden movement left me dizzy. My nausea overwhelmed me, and I couldn't hold back a wretch. Disgusted, I wiped my mouth on my jeans, my heart pounding in my chest harder than the heavy weight on my shoulders. Loose strands of hair clung to my face, obstructing my view of Oscar.

As a monstrous form, he moved swiftly, and the realization that he could run faster than I could began to gnaw at me. Concern for his safety mounted, pushing me to chase him.

"Please stop, Oscar. I just want to help," I pleaded between labored breaths. The dizziness continued to intensify, and I feared I might faint.

He slowed down, his human form slowly reemerging. "You have to catch me," he playfully called out, and I couldn't help but groan in response, feeling the oppressive weight of exhaustion and dizziness pressing down on me.

I pursued him, determined to keep him safe, but my vision blurred, and every step felt like a monumental effort. Despite the debilitating fatigue, I pressed on, knowing that Oscar's well-being depended on my ability to reach him.

Eventually, I caught up to him, wrapping him in a warm embrace as we both struggled to catch our breath. With his small frame nestled against my chest, I began to sing a lullaby, my voice filled with a soothing tenderness.

"Butterflies fly,

Caterpillars crawl,

Lions roar,

Bunnies hop,

All these things are true like I love you,

It'll be okay,

It'll be alright,

Wipe your tears, darling,

Don't cry,

It'll be okay,

It'll be alright."

Gradually, Oscar's human form returned. "I'm tired," he admitted, his voice filled with relief.

"Lean on me. I don't mind," I assured him, offering comfort and support. As the rain began to subside, I cradled him in my arms, mindful of the fragile trust he had placed in me.

Looking out at the desolate landscape, I spotted a woman in the distance, struggling to carry her baby. The cries of her infants reached our ears, and a man approached her menacingly, brandishing a weapon.

Instinctively, I placed Oscar on the ground and rushed to intervene. "Stay here, Oscar," I whispered to my young companion before standing up and racing to the woman's aid. She was in a vulnerable position, with a baby on her front and another on her back, their cries growing louder with each passing moment.

As I approached the scene, the man's hateful words filled the air like venomous arrows. He advanced menacingly, brandishing a weapon, and his eyes were filled with anger and disdain.

"Why aren't you wearing a burqa?" he roared, his voice dripping with contempt. "You're a terrible person. You should rot in hell."

The woman, her face etched with fear and desperation, held her infants close, but her defiant spirit refused to yield to his hateful rhetoric. She cried out in protest, her words carrying the weight of a mother's fierce love. "Don't hurt my babies!"

He showed no mercy, his actions confirming his cruel intentions. With cold determination, he reached for the first baby and pulled it from the woman's arms, leaving the innocent child vulnerable to his brutality. The mother's cries and pleas for clemency reverberated through the air, but they fell on deaf ears.

It was at that moment, witnessing this heart-wrenching scene of cruelty and injustice, that I knew I had to act. Without hesitation, I intervened to protect the innocent, refusing to let such an atrocity stand.

With newfound strength and determination, I wrested the second baby from his grasp, determined to protect the innocent. The woman's tears mirrored my own as we fled from the brutal officer, her sobs of grief trailing behind us.

Our escape was fraught with uncertainty, and the officer remained in pursuit. But we ran, Oscar and I, driven by an innate desire to shield the innocent from harm. Oscar's small feet pounded the ground as we raced through unfamiliar and unforgiving terrain.

"I'm tired, and my feet hurt," Oscar complained, his voice reflecting the exhaustion that had taken hold of us.

"We have to keep running," I replied, my tone more matter-of-fact than I intended. The baby in my arms continued to cry, its tiny voice echoing our tumultuous journey.

Our destination remained unknown, and the future uncertain. With each step, the weight of responsibility grew heavier on my shoulders, and I wondered how I could protect the children in this desolate, unforgiving world. We were alone, with no supplies, no respite, and no escape. A profound sense of dread enveloped me, and I couldn't help but entertain the thought that the darkness might ultimately consume us.

Eventually, I stopped when I felt something hard beneath the dirt. I started to kick the dirt out of the way carefully so it wouldn't make the baby cough. "What's wrong?" Oscar asked, confused about what exactly I was doing. To be fair, I was also slightly confused.

"I'm trying to move the dirt as there is something solid underneath. May you please help by moving the dirt with your hands?" I responded. He nodded, and together, we began to clear the soil away, revealing an orange door beneath.

"Do you want to open the door, Oscar?" I inquired. Oscar began to twist the handle on the orange door. "It won't open," he sighed.

"Just keep twisting. I'll stomp on it to see if that will help to loosen it," I suggested. He smiled. The door started to turn yellow before glowing green. "What's happening?" Oscar queried.

"I don't know!" I exclaimed, puzzled. There was a flash of light. As the door opened, revealing a hidden passage behind, my heart raced with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. The spiral stone stairs led us down into the depths of the unknown, and with each step, it felt like we were descending into an entirely different world.

Finally, we reached the bottom, only to be met with a seemingly impenetrable brick wall. My confusion mirrored Oscar's innocent inquiry. "Where do we go? The doors have never led me to a dead end before. What to do? The door would've vanished by now."

My mind was a whirlwind of questions, searching for answers that seemed elusive. But then Mila, the baby we had saved, reached out for the wall, her tiny fingers brushing against the bricks. At first, I dismissed it, thinking it was just a child's playful gesture, but then it struck me—perhaps she knew something I didn't. Of course, I didn’t know what her name actually was, but in my head Mila had seemed right.

"It's just a wall," I murmured to her, my voice tinged with doubt. To my surprise, she giggled, her laughter a ray of hope amidst the uncertainty.

An idea formed in my mind. "Mila, you're a genius," I exclaimed. I turned to Oscar, my newfound optimism guiding us. "Oscar, help me press the different bricks in the wall. One of them will be an opening."

With determination, we started to press the bricks, one by one. I struggled to reach the top right side, given my short stature, but we persevered. Finally, the bricks shifted to the sides, creating a hidden passageway through the wall. On the other side, we found ourselves inside a grand castle.

Before us, four thrones were arranged for the royal family. The most majestic among them was a towering red throne, presumably reserved for the king. We had stumbled upon a place of great importance, and my heart raced as I wondered what awaited us within this ancient castle.

We walked down a long corridor which had white walls adorned with portraits of what seemed to be past royals. The floor was covered with red carpet that had gold-trimmed edges.

"What are you doing here? Tell me your name and your business here," a man with silver hair, dressed in a suit, demanded. He looked to be of high rank.

"I'm Seven. The kids with me are Oscar and Mila, who is a baby. I am here to clean," I responded, hoping to sound honest.

"Why, yes, we did need a new cleaner. Follow me," he said in a snobbish, somewhat posh manner.

He led us into a dark room on what seemed to be the ground level. It was a small room filled with cleaning supplies and uniforms. The uniform was a black button-up with a white collar, paired with long black pants or a skirt. I opted for the pants.

"I'll take those kids so they can be cared for while you work. You mustn't worry about them. We give all children good treatment," he assured me. I gave a faint smile but was still worried about Oscar. What would happen if he turned into a monster? What would they do? These questions echoed in my mind.

I waved Oscar and Mila goodbye, hoping that Oscar didn't think I was going to leave him just because he couldn't stay with me while I worked.

"Follow me. I'll show you where to clean first," a young woman with orange hair said.

"Ok, thanks. I'm Seven. What's your name?" I asked.

"I'm Bea. Sorry, I thought Victor told you who I am," she said, slightly surprised.

"No, he didn't even tell me his name. I don't think he particularly..." I started but didn't finish my sentence, not wanting to say anything negative about Victor in front of a stranger.

"Haha, he can be like that," Bea reassured me. She led me up red stairs with gold railings.

"This place really has a thing for red and gold," I muttered.

"Here we are," Bea said as she pushed open the big brown doors. The room had mauve walls with purple skirting boards and matching purple curtains that had a lavender print on them. In the center of the room was a four-post queen-sized bed with aqua bedding. Roses were engraved on the bed head. There was a tall white cabinet with pink butterflies on it, and on top of the cabinet sat white lace and little trinkets. The room looked like something out of a fairytale. This beautiful room a stark contrast to the life I’ve lived and any room I have ever resided in.

"I'll have to go off to do my own work as I'm needed to help decorate since a neighboring kingdom is visiting. You can clean her room and then meet me in the dining room," Bea instructed.

"Ok," I replied, feeling slightly worried as I didn't know my way around the rest of the castle. I also didn't know anyone to ask for help if I got lost, but I was sure it would be alright.

I opened the windows to let some warmth in, and some birds came flying in. "Oh, hello there," I said. The birds helped me make the princess's bed, switched the aqua bedding to orange bedding, mopped the floors, scrubbed the windows (there were twelve of them), tidied up her wardrobe (she had so many dresses), dusted her trinkets and chandelier, and wiped down the walls. I was a little scared that a crystal would fall from the chandelier, but thankfully, they all stayed in place.

After completing the cleaning, I walked down the stairs and wandered the halls, looking like a lost puppy. I noticed what looked like a crack on a stone wall. I pushed it, revealing a door with a set of winding stairs behind it. I ascended the steps, counting at least three hundred of them. At the top, I found a brown wooden door with a black metal handle hanging down.

When I touched the door handle, I saw a flash, and a voice told me, "The key is in the mouth of the gargoyle statue." I went to grab the key, but the door just opened for me, even though it had been locked. "Did I do that? Were the colored doors I opened actually locked, and I could open them?" Questions swirled in my mind, and it seemed like this entire journey so far had been one big question, tangling itself like a spider's web.

“What are you doing here? Are you here to see Thorn?” A girl in a blue cloak asked. “I just found a crack in a wall and followed the stairs. I don’t even know who that is.” “He’s a wizard. He is meeting the neighbouring kingdom’s wizard. I’m Zia, it’s nice to meet you. What’s your name?” “My name’s Seven. It’s nice to meet you too, Zia.”

I just stood there uncertain, as she looked at me with curiosity.

[dizzyedgc]

[ dev patel, man, he/him ] — whoa! GIDEON CHOWDHURY just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS, working as a LIBRARIAN & WRITER. that can’t be easy, especially at only THIRTY-THREE. some people say they can be a little bit INSECURE and TIMID, but i know them to be INTELLIGENT and DEVOTED. whatever. i guess i’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to BROOKLYN! — (freddie, twenty-four, aest, they/them)

content warning - death of a parent, mental health issues.

BASIC INFO —

full name: gideon chatur chowdhury nickname/s: gid preferred name: gideon ( is happy / comfortable with anything though, really ) age: thirty-three birthday: may 14th zodiac: taurus gender: man pronouns: he/him occupation: librarian & writer sexuality: bisexual relationship status: single ( + open for ships )

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE —

faceclaim: dev patel hair colour: dark brown hair length / style: slightly grown out, curly, often slightly messy eye colour: brown height: 6'1" tattoos: none currently peircings: none currently scars: none noteworthy

PESONALITY -

positive traits: intelligent, devoted, considerate, imaginative, creative, clever, loving, selfless, aware, humorous, helpful, friendly, courteous, resourceful, entertaining negative traits: insecure, timid, weak, defeated, defensive, scared, submissive, anxious, avoidant likes: writing ( when inspiration hits ), the smell of books, warm weather with a cool breeze, kisses on cheeks and foreheads, books, music ( specifically orchestral music ), natural light, beautiful architecture, home cooked meals dislikes: film adaptations of books that are vastly different from the original source material ( "why didn't they just create their own story inspired by the book? with this many differences it's not like they'd get in trouble for plagiarising..." ), writers block, uncomfortable silences, spilled drinks, licorice hobbies: cooking, tending to his tiny indoor herb garden, writing ( if only inspiration could ever hit ), reading, watching films, listening to music, playing any instrument he can get his hands on, going for walks bad habits: not getting enough sleep, smoking, biting fingernails, procrastinating, stretching himself too thin, doubting himself

BACKGROUND —

gideon was born to starving artists; his mother was a musician, and his father was a writer.

his parents worked hard to provide a good life for their family, though at the same time, they never forgot to chase their dreams and put happiness above wealth.

they moved to new york when gideon was six years old, and there gideon found himself living a perfect life.

above everything else that kept gideon busy, he cherished his time playing music with his mother, and coming up with ideas for his father’s latest books.

unfortunately, gideon’s perfect life was cut short at the age of thirteen, when his father passed in a sudden and unprecedented accident.

to say that gideon was lost is an understatement; he experienced his first terrible bout of mental health issues, and the despair felt endless.

it didn’t last forever, no matter how bleak life felt at times; his mother was of particular help to him, as was reading through his father’s work - the ideas they had come up together, but that his father had never been able to realise into a completed novel.

life carried on, and gideon kept his father in his life by becoming fixated on his work. as a young adult, gideon began to dabble in completing his father’s work, and thus, gideon’s writing career began.

over the course of some years, gideon had three novels - a fiction trilogy - published ( sure to credit his father for his contribution ) and met with success, he felt as though he had never been happier.

like before, though, the happiness didn’t last. without his father’s books to complete, gideon found himself losing purpose - no matter how many great things he still had in his life - and his mental health issues returned.

he thought the solution was to keep on writing, but no matter how hard he tried, no inspiration hit enough for him to complete any other work.

gideon tried for a very long time - he still does try, in fact - but he lost his spark, and submitted to a job at the library instead, something he felt would make him feel closer to his father again.

WANTED CONNECTIONS —

best friend - this is a ride or die connection, they could have been friends as young as six, when gideon moved to new york, and they’re thick as thieves. they’ve been there for gideon through everything ( and there’s been a lot ) and vice versa ! any gender, similar age preferred.

childhood friends - they became friends as kids here in new york, and no matter how much they developed and changed and grown, they’ve stayed friends because of that. i think it’d be real funny if they were super opposite people, and if people had no idea why they’re even friends. any gender, similar age required.

regulars at the library - people who trust his opinions on what books they should check out, people who talk with him for far longer than they should while he’s working about books - or other stuff ! -, people who get their fees for overdue returns disappearing because they’re such nice people to gideon.

ex love interests - gideon was in a serious relationship for the past few years, but before that he also had a few other partners. he’s not the most experienced because he’s quite reserved with his love, but he’s a very good partner when his insecurities and mental health issues aren’t preventing him from being one. any gender !

book club - i’m not sure if this is an already established thing in this group yet or not, but gideon is definitely part of a book club. he wouldn’t have started it, but he would have joined it years ago and committed to it as anything literary related makes him feel closer to his father. he never misses a meet !

musician friends - while he might seem more literature focused due to his career, gideon is an extremely good musician, and i’d love for him to connect to others here in new york. he only typically plays for fun, jamming by himself or with these friends, but i could also see him jumping in on tracks or performances as a session musician when needed / when a friend asks !

gideon is also open to so much more, i'm happy to brainstorm or listen to any / all of your ideas !

[nouearth]

After watching a movie (yeah I am the person who talked about anna karenina and knightley) I read some of the book because I was so smitten by the whole scenery surrounding this movie, I couldn't help myself but to reach for the original story. I swear to god, Tolstoy could repeat that Vronsky in the book was a male with short brown (or black I don't remember correctly) hair, no curls - but I still would see my precious man with curly blonde hair 😭😭😭😭 I guess it's the bad side of watching a movie before reading a original inspiration. But tbh, now I think about it Movie!vronsky is kinda not accurate to the common appearance of russian people, I mean - maybe I am wrong, I am not some historician - but most of sources I saw, read, heard or just encounter (I often see Ukrainians and Russians) shows a picture of Russians that are mostly dark haired not blonde. SORRY FOR RAMBLING, EITHER WAY THIS MOVIE AND THE BOOK IS AMAZING. Altough Tolstoy may have his own way of writing (in my opinion) and the book may seem boring at times, but it's still worth reading.

💌 : i'll have to give it a try! i've actually been avoiding books with hetero couples because i've been reading them all my life, so i've been reading non-romance or queer couples these past few years! i know it's a long book, so i'll have to mentally prepare myself!!!

[proudly-a-killjoy]

The Wretched Existence of an Unloved Child

The collection of short stories that takes place in the universe of my OCs

Part Seven - The Ruby Returns

The sun reflected off the water, sparkling as the current continued to push the water forward. Ambriel sat on the bank, watching the rocks at the bottom tumble as the water swept them away. The river was impossibly clear, clearer than any water source on earth could possibly be. Every small detail under the surface visible, everything could be seen.

The river was an entrance, a doorway to different realms. Azurians could walk into the depths and emerge in whichever planet, realm, or world they wished. Most commonly they used it to go to earth. They were gods there, worshipped among the pagans. They liked the freedom of it, the ability to do whatever they liked free of consequence. Well, free of consequence most of the time.

He'd had a feeling when the sun rose, something about the river. So he came down to the bank, tossed some of his linen summer garments aside, and sat, waiting for whatever his senses were warning him about.

Sure enough, a figure soon emerged from the depths. Ambriel identified him as Beelzebub, from his dark curly hair, as well as his green eyes and brown skin. He was dry, as all people who enter through the river were, despite being submerged in the water.

He opened his mouth, a sentence formed and ready to be said. "Hold your tongue," Ambriel interrupted, "and explain your reasoning for being here, as well as how you got in."

Beelzebub had lost access to the Azurian doors months ago, and was also disowned by his sibling and exiled from Azuria after his betrayal. He was stripped of his weapons and clothing made from Azurian materials, and sent to wander the vastness of the universe, barred only from the place he had supposedly called home. What he used to call home, before trying to destroy everything and everyone in it.

"I've spent many moons crafting a spell to regain entrance to this realm," he replied, "even if only to enter once. I wish to apologise to Azrael, to you, for the harm I have caused. I regret it deeply, and want to be reaccepted as an Azurian. I was one of the first, I deserve to be here among my own. I deserve a second chance."

"You must think me a fool, Beelzebub. You had your chance, in the first months after your exile. Yet in those months you continued to attack us as we did our duties on other planets, vulnerable away from our home." The scent of sulphur filled the air as Ambriel spoke, and copper followed after.

Beelzebub, the Ruby, one of the first six Azurians created, made alonside his sibling Azerah. He was the betrayer. The one who lusted for blood. Some argued it was in his nature, he was the Ruby. The gem was embedded in his chest, where a human would have a heart. The stone each Azurian had was an indicator of their power. It showed what force of nature drove them, the power they had over it. They cared for it. The Ruby meant blood.

Beelzebub was demonic, he turned on his family in the pursuit of power. He went to the forces of hell and worked with them to gain the position of power the Azurians wouldn't let him have. The Azurians didn't believe in having the power to control others. They respected Azrael and her family as a sort of royalty for being the most powerful strength wise. They were royals in title, they represented the Azurians when in gatherings, they represented their power and what they could be when together. But when a decision needed to be made, when a choice was presented, there was no government that chose for the rest of the people. Each and every Azurian got a vote. They were called Anarchists by some, for not having a head group, more powerful than others, the ones to make decisions. Chaos was a part of Azurian life, yes, but there was no chaos in their decision making practices. They were only fair, and if one would consider that anarchy, then anarchists they were.

Beelzebub wanted more. More power, more importance, more everything. He hated not being known, or being deemed unworthy of power. Anger grew in him overtime, resentment as well. Eventually he made his decision, and betrayed Azuria.

His prescense was predatory, Ambriel noticed as he was standing across from him. The look in his eyes implied he was constantly hunting, and each individual he came across was his prey. Even now, as he asked forgiveness for his sins, he couldn't fully rid himself of the look enough to sell the ploy.

"The sad thing is," Ambriel said," this might have actually worked if you had done it earlier. In the week you were first exiled, if you had not continued to attack us, I might have actually believed you."

Beelzebub looked past him, into the distance. If one hadn't known him personally, they might have said that he looked serene, at peace. But Ambriel knew that his gaze meant trouble was brewing.

He met his eyes again and softly said, "I wish you would just allow yourself to trust me again, after all we've been through together..."

"It is time for you to stop, Beelzebub. Why do you think we would allow you a second chance. I know you. I can see the insincerity in your eyes."

"I did not think the others would, but I thought you would."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because I love you, and you love me."

Ambriel scoffed, "You never loved me. You may have thought you did, but if you truly did you would not have betrayed me."

"How did I betray you?"

"You tried to kill me! And my entire family!"

"I did nothing of the sort."

Ambriel laughed a bitter laugh, "Yes, yes you did. You tried to siphon off our energy into yourself. That would have killed us! Do you really not understand that?"

"If it had worked, I could have brought you back after."

"As what, a shell of myself? Would have brought back my mother? My sister? I know you do not care for them as you care for me. You cannot undo something like that."

"No, you cannot. Because you will not allow yourself to cross those lines. Azrael set up boundaries for your power, and like a child you followed her rules. I would have no such restraints, and I refuse to stay bound by her chains!"

"Get out," Ambriel said, sickened by Beelzebub's misunderstanding of what holding power does to a person, "Do the only thing that will save your life and move on. If you continue to come back here, none of us would hesitate to kill you."

Beelzebub's face contorted, fury twisting his features until he was nearly unrecognizable. Yet, despite his anger, he stepped back into the river and was swept away by the current to be spat back out into another realm.

[omegaversetheory]

Am i the only one who finds the concept of transitioning from O to A or A to O to be weird asf? Like im trans and it just feels wrong. It's like if cis men started pretending they had periods. I'd feel so uncomfortable with an alpha pretending to have a heat. Idk am i going crazy?

This is actually a great question leading to an even bigger discussion, and warning! this post is LONGGGG:

what does it mean to be trans in an omegaverse?

(DISCLAIMER BEFORE ANSWER BELOW - I am NOT trans and this is how I handle this topic in my own personal writing, if you are trans, I encourage you to weigh in on how your write your aus and the headcanons you use to provide our community with an "expert" source.)

You can be transgender, but there is no such thing trans-dynamic. Why?

In all of my au's trans people do exist. Do I have specifically trans characters? No, because I'm not trans and I can't speak to the nuances that go into that experience. But they do exist and I have given it some thought. Here are the basics of how my aus approach the subject:

First of all, as we all know, I tend to write a post-modern style where dynamics aren't nearly as relevant as they are in contemporary and traditional styles. Primary genders, such as female, are much more integrated into the framework and language, and therefore the self-perception of the individuals living in this world.

Second, the way at least the English language is structured, the ideas for the concepts of male and female stem from sets of actions/behaviors/skills/etc, that are societally classified as either masculine or feminine. This is an old-school sort of thinking, that of course we can all say there isn't anything we do, say, or act that is inherently male (or vice versa). The way I write omegaverse, there is no "look" associated with being any particular dynamic. You can be tall, short, muscular, slender, have a round face, have an angular jaw, have big feet, have long fingers, have curly hair, have full lips, no matter what dynamic you have. The genes responsible for your dynamic do not have any information on them that says things about your physical features other than if you are a male omega (who then needs to have the organs to get pregnant and have babies).

Similarly, we cannot change our skin color which also leads other people to make assumptions about our behaviors/skills/abilities/etc... The reason I often use skin color as a real world similarity to dynamic is because the majority of the time (not always) someone's skin color isn't the only reason they look "insert nationality/heritage", they also have other physical traits that denote where their ancestors are from such as eye shape, skull shape, nose type, body type, body composition, susceptibility to different aliments, hair type, hair color, etc...

When thinking about dynamics then, they all have gene-expressed behaviors/physical traits. The easiest to understand is omegas have heats, and have the compulsion to nest.

The easiest criticism of this would be, what if an omega doesn't have a heat? To that I would say, what if a woman doesn't have a period? Is she now automatically non-binary or male? Obviously not. If a woman gets a hysterectomy she is still a woman too. Same thing if a male omega gets a hysterectomy, still an omega.

What if an omega doesn't want to nest? In my au this simply isn't possible. It's not so much of a want as a thing that just happens. Some people sneeze when they get bright light in their eyes. Do they want to sneeze? no. Can they stop it? no. Could I train myself to sneeze when I saw bright lights? probably not. What if a beta does want to nest? If a beta wants to make a cozy little spot out of blankets because they like it, that's not nesting. An omega physically and mentally could not stop nesting without medical intervention or other extraordinary circumstances. When an omega nests, things occur in their brain that is not observable when betas or alphas perform the same action.

If a beta wanted to nest they would just be a beta who "nests", they would not be an omega. If an alpha wanted to have heat, this would not be possible even for female alphas with a uterus, it would not be possible. It's not about hormones, it's not about scents, it's not about bodies, it's about genes.

Going back to anon's biggest concern about alphas having a heat, this simply isn't possible. Alphas can menstruate, and alphas cannot have heats. I don't think the analogy of a cis man getting a period is quite right, consider instead, either a FTM trans or non-binary person producing semen or a human laying an egg that hatches into a human baby.

At this moment in time, neither of these things are possible, if they become possible I will need to edit this post with new examples lol.

What do you think anon? What is your answer to this question? And you my friends of the internet, reblog and comment below with how you write your characters and wonderful worlds.

xoxo

ot.

[martyslittleusedblog]

Prologue: An Adventure Begins

(Author's note: PLEASE DON'T LOOK YET! I'M NOT DONE!

...Ahem...

Trying my hand at a fantasy story. I'll be using D&D 5e (*before* 2024) rules to assist; hopefully, nobody minds if I do so or specify that I do. Click the "Keep Reading" tab below to check out the full story!)

-----------------------------------

A young man named Gen Sänger -- an average-looking young human of 5'7" in height, with brown hair, brown eyes, and pale skin, dressed in dark green traveler's clothes -- was stirring from an uncomfortable sleep with a groan. When he woke up, he realized he was not at home in his bed; he was lying on a stone floor in a relatively dark room, and there were iron bars bolted into the floor and speared into the rocky ceiling. The only source of light was a large opening about twenty feet away; it seemed to be some kind of arch, leading out into a hallway with openings in the ceiling to let sunlight in.

And he wasn't alone in this...what he now realized was a cell; a colorful menagerie of other prisoners lay in this and another sturdy, iron cage.

Looking to his left, Gen saw someone lying against the bars: a thin man with long, pointed ears that ended in what looked like butterfly antennae. He was slightly taller than the human -- very slightly, by one inch -- had short, wavy, silver hair, skin that was almost a pale blue shade, and was dressed in dark purple common clothes. And Gen recognized the species of this man: a wood elf. Elves tended to have a few insectoid features -- such as antennae, almond eyes almost resembling compound ones, and on rare occasions, transparent wings like a dragonfly -- and wood elves tended to have other features that hinted at their stronger connection to nature, such as leaf-green hair or skin resembling stone.

The antenna-eared fellow looked to Gen as the lad started to sit up. "Ah, the human has awoken." He then turned to look past Gen.

When Gen followed the elf's gaze and looked to the right of himself, he jolted and had to actively keep himself from letting out a startled yelp -- instead letting out a sharp gasp -- because squatting there was a short (3'10"), green-skinned humanoid with a wide, grinning mouth like a beartrap watching him with beady, shark-like eyes. Two large, pointed ears stood out from either side of his head, which was topped by a mess of black hair. Swaying back and forth behind him was a thin, mid-length, lion-like tail with a black tuft of fur sticking out of the tip. Gen recognized this fellow as a goblin. He was dressed even more simply than Gen, only wearing a pair of burlap trousers; this allowed people to see that, while he wasn't as muscular as one would expect, say, a barbarian to be, this little fellow had enough musculature to reveal that he could hold his own in a fight.

"Well, rise and shine, green jeans!" greeted the goblin, in an accent that Gen recognized as being from one of the big cities back on his home continent, "You wouldn't happen to be an expert lockpick, would you?"

"Uh...I wish?" Gen had no idea how else to respond to that question, but a new one came to him immediately after. "Where are we?"

Gen looked at the other cage, wherein he saw three other people.

One was a halfling woman dressed in fine, fancy, bright red clothes that Gen had seen nobles and other elites wear during the few times any visited his humble little village. She had curly brown hair framing her face, ruddy tan skin, and hazel eyes, which were currently focused on the cage Gen, the elf, and the goblin were currently being held in. Her sleeves were rolled up, showing enough musculature to reveal she could probably use her fists quite effectively.

As Gen looked over the group in the other cell, he was surprised to see what looked like an oversized brown rat in a dark blue set of clothes, including a hood. They appeared to be asleep, arms crossing their chest as they were curled into a fetal position sitting up against the bars, their naked tail twitching slightly on the ground next to them.

Finally, also looking at Gen's group seemed to be another goblin, a female with neatly-combed black hair, light blue eyes, and oddly enough to Gen, a small pair of horns poking out of the top of her head. Her ears were slightly bigger and floppier than the male goblin's, and her tail was shorter and thicker, more like a cow's than a lion's, even flicking to one side occasionally as a cow's would. She had a difficult-to-read look on her face -- Gen wasn't sure if she was bored or just calm -- and she sat on the floor in a set of travelers' clothes -- boots, a wool skirt, a sturdy belt, a jacket, and an ample cloak with a hood (which had holes cut out of it for the ears) -- with her knees drawn up to her chest. The clothes seemed so bulky, Gen had trouble telling how much person there was under there.

The hooded rat soon stirred from their slumber. The male goblin walked over to the bars of his group's cage to address her. "Finally avake, eh?" he teasingly asked in an accent Gen recognized as that of the people from the Norselands, which he heard trolls also originally hailed from.

The rat rubbed the sleep out of their eyes. "I am," they -- she, if the voice was any indication -- responded, "And I see the human is, as well."

"Nice!" the male goblin cheered, "Now we can all six of us put our heads together, get outta here, and maybe get back at whoever locked us up in the first place!"

"I imagine that will be difficult if none of us can pick locks," the halfling noted, "We have tried breaking the locks, and all we achieved is the possibility of brain damage for Mekzek." She indicated the male goblin.

"Ha!" the goblin, Mekzek, laughed, "C'mon, have you seen this big ol' head o' mine? It's made to be a battering ram! I couldn't have dain bramage! ...Wait."

The horned goblin sighed, "If I had my weapons, I might have been able to cut through these bars."

"You mean the weapons in this room?"

This voice came from outside the bars, in one of the darker parts of the room. It didn't stay dark for long, as a head of fire came to life on the end of a torch, illuminating a door being unlocked with a key. Said key, and the torch, were being held by green, goblin hands.

"A lot of goblins around here lately," the rat woman mused.

"Ah, but not just any goblin!" the voice corrected as the torch moved closer to the bars.

The light of the torch illuminated the face of a bald goblin with a proud, cheerful grin on his face. As the torch moved around, the group could see he was dressed in chain mail and...was that a cape? Yes, billowing behind this little green fellow was a little, bright red cape, like he was trying to be a superhero. "Behold, Rochidi of Greatmarsh!" the goblin stage-whispered, "Your savior, here to release you from your wrongful imprisonment!"

There was a commotion from much further ahead -- the sound of several pairs of bare feet flapping, as well as several voices shouting -- echoing off the walls and causing Rochidi's ears to lower as he looked behind himself. "Your captors are here; we need to move quickly!" He swiftly got to work unlocking the cages.

"Yes!" Mekzek cheered, punching the air.

Soon, all six prisoners were freed, and Rochidi started hurrying through the archway. "I'll meet you all up ahead!" he called back to them, "A friend of mine needs my help! ROCHIDI OF GREATMARSH, AWAY!" And with that, he was out of sight.

There was a brief pause as the six of them processed what just happened. "Well," the elf remarked, "He's quite a character, isn't he?"

The rat woman shook her head to refocus and dashed over to the unlocked door. "Nevermind that; I need my weapons." She stopped in front of the doorway and, after checking for any traps -- there weren't any -- she stepped into the room, which was illuminated by torches in sconces. The other five soon followed her in.

The room was littered with all sorts of items, mostly various types of armor and weapons. The group quickly figured out that all the items in the room belonged to one of them, and so each member gravitated to a collection of objects they knew belonged to them.

"I guess now's as good a time as any for introductions," Gen surmised as he picked up his chain mail -- he could tell it was his because it was his size -- and started putting it on, "My name's Gen Sänger. I'm a fighter from a little town from across the ocean. ...That's about all I can tell you, because I'm not good at conversation..."

"Ah, fret not," the halfing reassured him as she picked up her spear and pocketed ten darts, "you seem to be doing just fine. Lady Andry Handel, at your service; I had been following a group of bandits on behalf of the people of the town of Jacob -- a fairly recent establishment -- but it seems the bandits found me, which would explain why I woke up in a cell and am now having to gather up my weapons and armor once more."

"My circumstance is similar," the rat woman added as she inspected her rapier, "the difference being that in my case, it was mostly for the bounty on the offenders' heads. As for my name...well, you can all call me 'Adelia' -- a ratfolk, so you don't get confused. ...And I'm going to need somewhere private to don my leather armor. I want to wear it under my clothes, you see."

The female goblin noticed a look on Adelia's face: annoyance. "Somefing wrong?"

Adelia sighed. "I'm just wondering why the hell I didn't put it on earlier, before I set out. I knew what danger I was in for, so why--" She stopped herself. "Nevermind. I'll do better next time." She glanced to the goblin woman. "Speaking of armor, do...you not have any? I know goblins tend to be a bit sturdier* than one would expect from us smallfolk, but I can't imagine travelers' clothes being much protection against a knife..."

"Well," explained the goblin, "I'm only half-goblin. The other half is minotaur. I'm a bit sturdier than full-blooded goblins, but not as much as minotaurs. Graness is my name; I wasn't doing much, just taking a stroll down the road to clear my head. Then some git hits the back of my head, I black out, and then...yeh."

"Hey, what a coincidence!" Mekzek commented as he donned his chain mail, "Me too! Except, not just down the road. See, I was just wandering, like I always do. I recently moved here from across the pond and was exploring the woods. I found this cave and some local goblins, and I was gonna chat 'em up. Then I felt something hit my head, I blacked out, and when I woke up, I was here." By this point in his recounting, he had just finished inspecting his light crossbow for damage. "Good thing the shmucks that knocked me out didn't hurt my baby here, or there'd be HELL to pay! Not that I don't plan to smack 'em around anyway..."

"You said your name is Mekzek?" Gen asked the goblin, "it's nice to meet you." He held out a hand to shake. Mekzek just looked at it, then back up at Gen. There was an awkward silence as Mekzek just looked blankly at the offered hand and Gen, as if not understanding the gesture. Gen slowly lowered his hand back to his side, a bit discouraged. "Uhh...a-as long as we're talking about how we got captured...I was out hunting for lunch, myself. Then I felt something hit the back of my head, and the next thing I know, I wake up in that cage."

"In my case," the elf spoke up, checking his "I was traveling in a wagon to that Jacob town that Lady Handel mentioned. It was an excursion from a lake town further up the road, wherein I had finished studying an important subject at the library. I was hoping to acquire more information at Jacob, when my wagon was attacked! It was a group of bandits -- mostly goblins, though I caught glimpses of taller folk, as well -- and I had to retreat into my wagon to avoid the hail of arrows and crossbow bolts! Of course, the canvas covering offered no protection, so I had to lie flat on my belly. Alas, I think there must have been a mage of some kind among them, because suddenly, I fell unconscious, likely from the Sleep spell."

He stopped and blinked, glancing around at everyone. While Lady Handel and especially Gen were paying attention, Graness and Adelia were clearly impatient to leave. Mekzek wasn't even in the room, having gone back to the cell block to load his crossbow and keep an eye out for the oncoming enemy.

The elf cleared his throat. "I apologize, I haven't introduced myself yet. My name is Peren Stradivarius, librarian. I would show you my card, but I'd forgotten to bring it. Perhaps a good thing; I shudder to think what the bandits would have done with them..."

History Check: Gen: 6; Mekzek: 4-1=3; Lady Handel: 16+2=18; Adelia: 11+2=13; Graness: 20+1=21

Success for Handel and Graness!

Lady Handel and Graness each raised an eyebrow; a long time ago, this man would've been seen as an oddity, for wood elves were once believed to only be interested in nature; nowadays, it was more widely accepted that wood elves and other "nature folk" could be interested in what the metropolises and other humanoid-made parts of the world had to offer, such as fine clothes and more opportunities to learn about something new (one widely-taken opportunity being the libraries more commonly found in cities).

* (I'm basing this idea on the fact that in D&D 5e (before 2024), playable goblins got a +1 to their Constitution score.)