#speculation: the reason i don't sleep

[summertimemusician]

Honestly I don't know if I'm remembering it wrong due to sleep deprivation, but out of everything in TOTK one of my favorite little details is that Zelda's eyes in her Divine Noodle (affectionate) form when Demon King's flames hit or graze her tremble a little, more so around the pupils than the iris

The implications are absolutely delicious when you think about it, either it's an expression of deep seated, primal fear which she would probably feel as a dragon even if her main instinct is to help Link, it makes sense she'd feel distressed when faced with a bigger predator if we assume the dragons actually work like wild animals (I mean have we looked at Demon King's full size and length? He absolutely overshadows her and he's clearly going in for the kill, what with that initial bite, he's clearly not only gunning for Link and for Hyrule but also for her specifically), because Zelda by nature is not a warrior, she will fight for her people and to defend her people but she's not one to start the conflict, she's not one to HUNT, so when faced with something actively doing so it makes sense she'd be a little afraid, just because you are made to fight the divine threat from birth doesn't mean you can't fear death in the process('Courage is not the absence of fear but the will to rise against it even when you're afraid' and all that), immortality or not and trust me I'm getting to that part-

And arguably the more interesting implication: that dragons can feel pain/get hurt from other beings in a similar status, which also puts their immortality into question. Because that little twitch can also be because the flames actually hurt her.

One thing I always found interesting in TOTK is the dragon skeletons deep down in the Depths, they're parallel with the Leviathan skeletons, sure, but the fact that the dragons that we know can come and go from the depths and that there are actual skeletons there makes me look at them side by side and think "Oh those are dragons" rather than Leviathans, which begs the question: what could have killed them if dragons are immortal and can live for such long periods of time? What could have killed them when none of our weapons (including the Master Sword mind you) can't hurt Naydra, Dinraal, Farosh and Zelda in a way that matters?

I think the best answer in this case is given to us by Zelda's reaction (assuming I'm not wrong and didn't just imagine it due to sleep deprivation) to the Demon King's flames.

Maybe, just maybe, what caused them to die was likely another dragon. Which means that dragons can actually die, just not through age or natural means, but have to actively be killed through the right means/being for it to stick. Which also tracks with a lot of divine lore in LOZ in general, Demise/Ganondorf only being able to be brought low by the Master Sword wielded by someone who posseses the Hero's Spirit (or that has become worthy of it is we see in Wind Waker) because it's quite literally a divine blade, Hylia actively giving up her immortal form to become a mortal but still slumbering/existing in a separate realm outside of time can also be considered a form of divine death, not to mention Bellum being in the process of killing the Ocean King in Phantom Hourglass. Divine beings have always had an element of mortality to them in LOZ, and it's not too much of a stretch to think that pattern might hold true in TOTK.

(Personally I think maybe the dragons we know might have killed the others in a territory/route dispute, if we go with the fact that a person loses themselves when they consume a secret stone and is guided by their base instincts/whatever goal they had before becoming a dragon, I don't think territory disputes would be all that far fetched, or some other goal which would motivate possible aggression.)

Although there's also the other possibility to consider: we get the armor set of the wild on the heads of those skeletons in TOTK, and we know for a FACT there was a hero before BOTW/TOTK Link, not only through the Ancient Hero's Aspect (which I have so many thoughts/headcanons about) but also through the tapestry in BOTW no matter what the heck happened to the lore in between games, you can still work with the information that there was a hero before BOTW/TOTK Link, and possibly one even before that one if we assume the armor set in the depths isn't from the Original Calamity Hero.

What I'm pitching here basically is, Original Calamity Link/another possible Link was likely a dragon slayer (not uncommon among Links, but how many Links killed an actual possibly divine dragon?), and possibly the one to kill the dragons in the depths and that maybe, just maybe we should have a game one day or a manga which either clarifies or debunks that- wait I know it sounds insane but listen stop walking away-

(Also if it's indeed a sign that Zelda feels pain it honestly ramps up Wild's/TOTK Link's motivation to kill Ganondorf WAY up because I too would want to eviscerate anyone who hurt Zelda even if she can't outwardly show it.

Also also- divine flame scars on Zelda where the gloom fueled fire grazed/hit her in her dragon form, you wouldn't be able to see it normally, but once she turns back into hylian they're there as another showing of how her time as a dragon will always stick and haunt her.)

[nadas-dirthalen]

Dragon Age: the Veilguard Was Packed with Lore — But Many of Us Overlooked It

— PART ONE — [ 2 ]

Welcome back, friends and travellers. If you've been here a while, you'll know that I wrote 30,000 words of predictions in the week and a half before DA:tV released. But here's the most surprising thing—I was right, for the most part.

I spent my first Veilguard playthrough grinning (and then sobbing) at all the lore reveals. And here's the thing: I think most of us missed a lot of them, including even me.

So let's begin with...

Titans: Dark and Light, Compassion and Rage, the Eternal Hymn and its Endless Listeners (1/2)

This is your warning: This post will contain spoilers for the entirety of Dragon Age: the Veilguard, and all Dragon Age content made before Veilguard.

Alright, pals. If you've been here a while, you know how this goes. I always start by listing what we're going to cover, like anyone who's never fully recovered from academia.

Today's Discussion:

What Veilguard (Re)Taught Us about the Titans

The Titans the first Shapers of the known world.

The Titans are beings of the Abyss.

The Titans are sleeping, dormant—but alive.

Dwarves are the Titans' children, created to tend them.

The Evanuris mined the Titans' bodies to create people.

The Titans—the Earth—fought back.

What Veilguard (Re)Taught Us about the Titans

The best thing about Dragon Age, as someone who loves the series to death, is that its worldbuilding is consistent, but also bears the unique quality that we, as players, are not aware of it all. Our protagonists in each game don't know everything; the people they learn from also don't know everything. We learn what we can through codices that are all biased and need an extra layer of decoding. This is a feature, not a bug.

It also means that we did not know how to understand the Titans before. Even my 30,000 words of theorycrafting, especially my piece all about the Titans, had elements of speculation. I had to check that speculation against other sources like the Chant of Light, which is a source that we REALLY did not know how to decode when it was revealed piece by piece in DAO, DA2, World of Thedas, and Inquisition.

Here, I'm going to break it all down, piece by piece.

The Titans were the first Shapers of the (known) world.

It is said in the Descent DLC that Titans are enormous beings whose singing shapes the world. Their existence predates much of Thedas, if not all of it. The Titans are called the first Shapers for this reason, and in Veilguard it is restated several times over that they did, indeed, shape the world—for instance, by Cole in Inquisition.

"Their ancient shapers were mountains drawn of all their wills, walking their memories into valleys of the world." —Cole dialogue.

Inquisition told us so much more about the Titans than just that, though. The Titans have a realm all their own, a counterpart to the Fade, mentioned over and again in the Chant of Light and referenced as a quest name in Inquisition.

Here lies the abyss: the well of all souls.

The Titans are beings of the Abyss.

Now, it's important that I mention right here that the Chant of Light has existed long before Inquisition. In fact, its tale is what opens DA:O as the game begins. Recently Eurogamer stated that BioWare has had a massive lore document for the 20+ years of its existence, and I believe that there is no truer example of this than in the Chant of Light itself.

The Abyss, for a long time, was a mystery to us. Inquisition cleared it up a lot—not only with its game content, but with World of Thedas' publication shortly thereafter.

Not only is the Abyss referred to in many elven codices, but we go there. The key locations of the Descent DLC—the Forgotten Caverns, Bastion of the Pure, and the Wellspring—are in a region called the Uncharted Abyss.

Now, with Harding, we go deeper into the Deep Roads than the average dweller. The same is true in that instance: venture down far enough, and we reach a Titan's heart.

We find a Titan's heart there. But the Titan does not wake—none have before DA:tV, and even then, they have not fully woken. Because, for as long as we have known...

The Titans are sleeping, dormant—but alive.

"It's singing. A they that's an it that's asleep, but still making music." — Cole dialogue.

There is so much Cole dialogue in Inquisition that speaks on the sleeping Titans, on their old songs that once sang the same, on how they will never wake up, that it would be folly to try and post every codex here. Suffice it to say: Cole knows of the Titans, knows of their songs, and knows they are asleep. He is one of the pathways to our knowledge of the Titans in Inquisition, and his words are peppered throughout the game.

The Chant of Light also makes reference to a mountainous Maker, who oft speaks about a forgotten mountain. When Andraste meets the Maker "in darkness unbroken," specifically, these words are used:

The Maker Appears to Andraste (7) Eyes sorrow-blinded, in darkness unbroken There 'pon the mountain, a voice answered my call. "Heart that is broken, beats still unceasing, An ocean of sorrow does nobody drown. — Andraste 1:7

Heart that is broken, beats still unceasing — a being who has been broken, but whose heart still beats. We can hear that, in the Descent DLC.

Veilguard confirms that both sources are true through Harding, her personal quest, and the codices for the Dwarven people.

Records that exist outside of Orzammar mention "great sleeping Titans" and "the First Ancestors." — Codex Entry: Harding's Notes: Orzammar and Titans

Harding's experiences in Veilguard, in this way, serve to prove Cole right. That is a deliberate narrative choice: BioWare's way of saying, Yes, this is true. Yes, you should take Cole's take on Titans as correct.

We also know, from Cole, that this state of being is permanent. Not only are the Titans asleep, but they don't know how to wake.

Songs screaming far away. It wants to wake up but can't remember how. No one should be here. — Cole dialogue.

This becomes crucial information in Veilguard, and central to the main plot. It serves as the backdrop for what actually matters most to the characters living in Thedas right now, which is...

Dwarves are the Titans' children, created to tend them.

By now, a lot of people have seen this reveal in the art book: the dwarves were created to tend to their Titan hosts/makers. But we knew this before—we just didn't know it in context, and therefore we did not believe it to be objectively true of Thedas.

In truth, we've known about the elves and the dwarves' origin since the Chant of Light came out in full with World of Thedas volume 2.

At last did the Maker From the living world Make men. Immutable, as the substance of the earth, With souls made of dream and idea, hope and fear, Endless possibilities. — Threnodies 5:5

I talk about it in more depth in my Chant of Light dissection, but what this verse says in context is that the dwarves (the Maker's second children) are beings crafted by the maker: bodies made of lyrium, souls made of the same "dream and idea, hope and fear" as the original spirits.

This concept has already been massively hinted toward with both Valta (who has become The Oracle in DA:tV) and Dagna, who both connect to isatunoll during Descent and Inquisition's base game, respectively.

We've known about the Evanuris' horrible crimes since before Inquisition, as well, for the same reason and from the same verses in the Chant of Light.

Until, at last, some of the firstborn said: "Our Father has abandoned us for these lesser things. We have power over heaven. Let us rule over earth as well And become greater gods than our Father." (8) The demons appeared to the children of earth in dreams And named themselves gods, demanding fealty. — Threnodies 5

With the context given to us by Trespasser and Veilguard, we know without a doubt that the Evanuris are those "jealous spirits" that comprise the Maker's first children.

And just like the Chant describes, they sought to conquer the earth: the realm of the Titans.

The Evanuris mined the Titans' bodies to create people.

Trespasser taught us so much of what we needed to know about the Evanuris' and Titans' conflicts. Its codices in the Deep Roads outline how it was Mythal, specifically, creating some of the first elves in the coffins found in that zone. The Temple of Solasan features coffins of the exact same kind.

Ir sa tel'nal Mythal las ma theneras Ir san'a emma Him solas evanuris Da'durgen'lin Banal malas elgara Bellanaris, bellanaris. — Codex: Torn Notebook in the Deep Roads, Section 3

My (updated) translation: Isatunoll Mythal gives you dreams Lyrium within Becomes Solas evanuris Little stone boy You give nothing to the Titan (anymore) Forever, forever.

Trespasser reveals that Mythal mined the bodies of slain titans and rendered their demesne unto the People: she conquered Titans and used their bodies for her own ends. The hints about these actions, however, are not exclusive to Trespasser, nor to Solasan. These seeds were planted all the way back at the Temple of Mythal.

Elgar'nan, Wrath and Thunder, Give us glory. Give us victory, over the Earth that shakes our cities. Strike the usurpers with your lightning. Burn the ground under your gaze. Bring Winged Death against those who throw down our work. Elgar'nan, help us tame the land.

This codex to Elgar'nan makes reference to Elgar'nan giving victory over the Earth (capital-E, the Titans). Trespasser would follow this up with much context—that it was Mythal who was first known to have slain Titans, "rendering their demesne unto the People."

I theorized that Mythal's mining of Titans for lyrium to make elvhen bodies was what angered the Titans, based on codices in Trespasser and the Temple of Solasan. (I go into much more depth there!) Veilguard confirms this theory in Solas' Memory #4: A Memory of Manifestation.

Solas: I have the Fade. Besides, this talk of taking on a solid form. When you took the glowing stone to build your body, did the earth not shake? Mythal: The lyrium gives us the strength we had when we were of the Fade. We are the best of physical and spirit.

Mythal's crime was what took the war with the Titans in a new, darker direction. It was what would set off the chain of events that would change the very nature of the world—and it was foreshadowed, back in Inquisition, by Cole.

The Titans—the Earth—fought back.

"They made bodies from the earth, and the earth was afraid. It fought back, but they made it forget." — Cole dialogue.

In this post, I theorized that it was Solas' creation itself that caused the first Titan to "go red." That is to say, to change its nature and fight back. I used codices from Trespasser and Solasan to get there, as well as one paragraph from World of Thedas and this codex on Fen'Harel that describe the Forgotten Ones as "beings of terror, malice, spite, and pestilence."

Thinking about those words, and specifically terror, I read the codex in the secret Deep Roads room in Trespasser with fresh perspective.

For a moment, the scent of blood fills the air, and there is a vivid image of green vines growing and enveloping a sphere of fire. The vision grows dark. An aeon seems to pass. Then the runes crackle, as if filled with an angry energy. A new vision appears: elves collapsing caverns, sealing the Deep Roads with stone and magic. Terror, heart-pounding, ice-cold, as the last of the spells is cast.

Terror. The first of the turned Titans. The fire/plant/ice imagery also caught my eye, and when I went back to Solasan to check, there were many hints that this was, indeed, where Terror came into being. (For more, go look at the most recently linked post in this section!)

Huge implications for Solas aside, what this codex taught me is that Titans' natures could change. This was confirmed in Veilguard many times over, yes—but my point here is that Inquisition taught this to me, just a few days before I gained the context of Veilguard. This was never a retcon! However, this lore plays exactly to BioWare's rules: we did not have the full context, and so almost no one read that Deep Roads codex as it was meant to be interpreted—including me, the first few times I read it!

It was only when I'd seen the achievement icons before Veilguard's release that it all clicked for me. All of the lore of Inquisition and everything before it made sense. That was never a bug, never a retcon, but a genius twist on BioWare's behalf: one that almost no one guessed at for an entire decade.

One that changes everything.

Titans, we know for certain now, behave as spirits. Obscure hints in World of Thedas, Inquisition, and the previous games have been confirmed in Veilguard. This new understanding changes not just the Titans, not just the dwarves, but reframes everything we know about the entire history of Thedas and how its magic system works.

______

Thank you for reading! It means a lot when people engage with these. And don't worry: I'm not nearly through with them. It's taken me a while to compile everything, but with more of Veilguard added to the wiki every day, it's a lot easier to compile things for these posts!

(Immense thanks to the wiki staff, of course. <3)

Up Next: Titans and Spirits are far more similar than we think, and it means everything.

[harrowing-of-hell]

i've been meaning to talk about the scene where cytherea's body shows up underneath harrow's bed, and the whole "is she actually there or not?" question, because many people seem convinced that ianthe was gaslighting harrow and i genuinely don't think she has any reason to do so. the scene itself is deliberately ambiguous for several reasons. the most obvious is that harrow hallucinates. she knows this. the audience knows this. this is precisely why she seeks out ianthe in the middle of the night, because harrow doesn't trust her own senses.

harrow also used bone to shackle cytherea's body to the floor— and yet her body somehow disappears from underneath the bed without breaking these shackles. initially, this would indicate cytherea's body is another hallucination.

however, we also know that there's something weird going on: for some unexplained reason, cytherea's body apparently doesn't trigger blood wards.

after cytherea's body goes missing, it also can't be detected by john or found anywhere on the mithraeum.

one possibility is that cytherea's body is negating magic somehow. her body is being necromantically preserved by john and thus her body is imbued with john's magic. that may be why wake can move around in it completely undetected by john himself, and also may be why she is able to bypass blood wards and other types of necromancy.

but again, no concrete answers are given, and any ideas or claims are just pure speculation. all we know is that cytherea's body has been able to do weird things and avoid detection, so it's not exactly unreasonable that, if she was underneath the bed, she may have been able to escape the the shackles somehow.

additionally, though i'm not at all inclined to believe this, we also can't rule out the possibility that both of these appearances of wake-in-cytherea's-body were hallucinations and the only time harrow really saw her was in the incinerator room when she was trying to kill g1deon.

at the end of HtN, gideon claims that cytherea's body was obviously there, but she isn't reliable because she only has access to harrow's memories. she would recall that situation as harrow did, meaning she would remember any hallucinations harrow was experiencing. unlike harrow herself, gideon doesn't doubt harrow's experiences, but harrow feels the need to confirm whether she's hallucinating when it's not already obvious to her that this is the case.

and then there's ianthe, who's behavior during this scene is weird:

ianthe says very little during this entire scene before leaving harrow's bedroom, and i think this is deliberate, only meant to make it more ambiguous as to whether the body under the bed is actually there or not.

but it's actually because of ianthe's behavior here that i believe that harrowhark seeing cytherea's body underneath the bed was an hallucination.

there are other times where ianthe comments on harrow's psychosis:

in both of these situations, she's not nice about it! in fact, ianthe takes the opportunity to insult harrow or question whether harrow's actually seeing the things that she's seeing.

importantly, her behavior in these two instances is very different from what she does when harrow tells her to look at cytherea's body underneath the bed and touch it. ianthe doesn't insult harrow at all or call her "crazycakes" or "mad", just asks if harrow's been sleeping, says good night, and walks away.

i think that this is because ianthe gets really uncomfortable whenever she's confronted with harrowhark being in undeniably vulnerable positions.

when she sees harrow bloody and naked after being attacked by g1deon, she brushes it off by essentially going "yikes", but the fact that she makes no attempt to help harrow recover from the attack and hastily walks away from the sight of harrow's maimed body is very telling.

her walking away is so unexpected that i've seen several people say that they're not sure why ianthe didn't take that as an opportunity to manipulate harrow (even harrow expected it to happen, and welcomed it). and yeah, from what we see of her character in HtN up until this scene, it does seem ooc for her to just walk away with nothing but a quippy comment.

but to understand her behavior i think it's important to note that ianthe does see harrow as an equal! at any given opportunity she brings up the similarities between herself and harrowhark. ianthe also does this because she's down bad, but regardless, she would never equivocate herself to someone who she thinks is lesser than her.

i also don't think she would do this if she didn't care about harrow— and she does care about harrow! she was genuinely happy to see harrow was alive before realizing that it wasn't harrow but gideon-in-harrow's-body. at the beginning of HtN she kneels before harrowhark in "unmistakable supplication" and looks at her with "half-beseeching, half-contemptuous despair" as she offers to help defend harrow's body once they go into the river to fight the RB.

ianthe has no reason to gaslight harrowhark for fun the night before the RB is supposed to attack. she incessantly taunts harrowhark with her impending death all throughout HtN, but she doesn't actually want harrowhark to die. gaslighting and destabilizing harrow further when harrow is already likely to die directly goes against this desire.

imo ianthe does enjoy having someone rely on her and is willing to be manipulative to achieve that, but i think she relied on harrow just as much as harrow relied on her. in HtN, harrow is very much filling the coronabeth shaped hole in ianthe's life and i don't think ianthe would risk losing that.

that's all to say, i think it's precisely because ianthe sees harrow as an equal and cares about her in her own fucked up way that, when faced with harrow's vulnerability, her immediate reaction is to brush it off and help harrow save face by walking away from the situation.

ianthe views vulnerability as a weakness and thus thinks she is doing harrow a favor by walking away from harrow in her times of weakness and making no further comment about it. it's like how many people react when they see a stranger crying it public; they would feel similarly embarrassed to be seen crying in a public space, so their way of helping that person is to ignore the fact that they're crying and prevent them from experiencing further embarrassement. she would want harrow to ignore her moments of weakness, and so in turn, she ignores harrow's moments of weakness.

in a way this is kinda how they show solidarity to each other in HtN; despite how they threaten each other with death, harrow defends ianthe when she's struggling to use her rapier arm, keeps ianthe's secrets, never explicitly mentions that ianthe cries at night to anyone (actually i think there are several scenes where harrow suspects ianthe has been crying, and she doesn't mention it aloud). in turn, ianthe thinks it best to not acknowledge or make it known that harrow experiences hallucinations. they know they're both in shit positions and aren't trying to deliberately make it worse for each other.

this is ultimately why i think ianthe wasn't lying when she said she didn't see cytherea's body; she not only has zero reason to do so outside of "for fun", but destabilizing harrowhark further would go against the fact that she wants harrow to survive the RB fight. ianthe's behavior when harrow asks her to look underneath the bed is also directly in line with the other occasion in which she has to interact with harrowhark in an extremely vulnerable moment: she seems incredibly dismissive of the situation, and then walks away.

[vivalabunbun]

When It Rains, Why Does It Pour?

Summary: Sand is quite a nuisance, it creeps into every crevice and no amount of dusting can free oneself from its stubborn hold. Yet, the tide still greets the shore.

Word Count: 8.8k (oh no...)

Tags: Neuvillette x GN!Reader, human!reader, SFW, fluff, childhood friends AU, Slow Burn, Slow Fic, Angst, Hurt with Comfort, themes about reincarnation, TW: Themes about death and loss, themes about aging, immortal x mortal AU, not lore accurate, reader is an attendant, human prejudice, Spoilers Warning: His story quest and archon quests, speculations about his past in Fontaine, why is he so mysterious

Authors Note: This was a challenge trying to write from the POV of a man you don't even know the name of, but I just had to write something for him. A character study of Neuvillette. Enjoy!

How long has it been since he first arrived here? One month? Two? Or perhaps it has already been a year? The young dragon wasn’t too sure.

The days seem to blend together when one only eats, studies, and sleeps all on repeat. A cruel trait of time. The weather outside the glass windows didn’t provide any hints either.

However, he himself is to blame. 

A gray haze concealed azure skies as rhythmic drops of rain hit the earth. Blocking out the all-seeing sun and nurturing moon, the murky clouds above even hinder the stars from accompanying him.

A true reflection of his current solitude. 

The young dragon arrived in the human world, brought over by the lord of Fontaine. Due to the nature of his arrival to this nation, he was given status and importance in the eyes of the citizens. However, he has yet to receive acceptance. 

The grand estate in which he resides was staffed with countless butlers and maids, renowned chefs, and skilled tutors. He was wanting of nothing, yet still impoverished. 

He could see it in their mortal eyes, he could sense it in the tangible silence of the halls, he could tell from the distance each mortal put between themselves and him. 

Much like the towering stone walls which surrounded his private residence.

Was it to separate themselves from him or himself from them?

A question he entertains as lilac eyes scan over the aforementioned wall. Its gray stones are a welcomed change from the dry parchment with even drier content. 

As he observes the drab stones contrast against a dreary sky, a small flash of white cuts through the somber composition.

Catching his lilac eyes as they follow the strange shape, it drifts through the capricious wind before the breeze grew bored and tossed it to the ground.

Studying it a bit further, the young dragon identifies the object as a simple pillowcase. Nothing more than a scrap of fabric. 

He reasons that the wind must’ve stolen it from some clothesline. Just when he was about to return to the legal ledgers a rustling came from the bushes lining the bottom of the wall.

A small frame pushes apart the thick vegetation, creating enough space to finally free themselves from the entangled mess of branches. 

The towering wall, the one meant to separate him from the mortals, was defeated by a mere child.

A child who’s clumsy brushing the twigs from their garments and shaking a few raindrops from their hair. He watches as the small human trots toward the discarded pillowcase, a pout forming on their lips as they observe the mud that had seeped into the silk. 

Judging by the simple attire they don, they must be the child of a maid. 

Ah humans, fickle and temperamental creatures created by the usurpers. It took a conscious effort on his part to stop the frown threatening to appear on his lips.

Seems like he still needs to get used to their presence. 

It was as if the child sensed the bitterness in his thoughts because soon a pair of wide eyes connected with lilac. Even with the sun hiding behind dreary clouds, there was a light that twinkled in their irises. 

It was only for a minute, no, even less than that. But a young dragon and a young human held each other’s gaze. 

The child’s shoulders jolt as they turn their head back toward the wall, as if a voice called for them. Casting one last glance toward the young dragon, the child trots back toward the wall, disappearing within the murky viridescent. 

And that was the end, like the breeze that littered a scrap of fabric among the grass, the small human came and went.

Such fickle creatures, the young dragon gives it one last thought before returning his attention back to a cluttered desk. 

–

Amongst the soft drumming of droplets came a tap against the glass too sharp to be caused by the gentle rain. Causing the young dragon to turn away from the stacks of books laid out before him.

The wet glass obscured a small flicker of an orange glow, thus he walked closer to investigate. With each step, the figure outside the window became undeciphered.

That small human again. 

Locking eyes with the human outside the glass, the fickle creature’s lips curl up, the glow of their lamp illuminating the curiosity behind their gaze.

A human child doesn’t have the potential to cause much if any harm to him. Thus, he releases the lock, removing the glass barrier separating two breathes. 

“Hello! What is uh… your name?” They chirp out. 

His sharp ears picked up the clumsiness in their speech, the subtle unfamiliarity of the words they spoke. Distinct signs that you were still learning the language of Fontaine, much like him.

Although he understood your question, he was too distracted to answer. Lilac eyes wandering off toward the stone wall. Within the entangled mess of twigs, there was a small parting.

A part just wide enough to reveal the secret the bushes desperately tried to hide: A small hole along the bottom of the stone barrier. Just enough for a small creature to slip through. 

Discovering the truth behind how a small human was able to defeat such a seemingly impenetrable wall. 

The pattering of the rain was interrupted by the rustling of fabric, drawing his attention back to the small human in front of him.

The child rummages through their pockets before pulling out a lump covered by a handkerchief. Peeling back the layer of fabric to reveal some conch madeleines, presenting fragmented sweets before the young dragon. 

“It tastes good, I promise.” A small hand extends itself further through the open window. 

Observing the crumbly sweets laid out upon a handkerchief, the young dragon halted the rejection that almost escaped his lips. Remembering the concepts he had just been reading before this.

Humans tend to follow a set of unwritten rules, principles they like to call ‘manners’. There weren’t any punishments issued by law if those rules were broken, no imprisonment or fines.

However, narrow-eye stares and whispers behind backs were the punishments issued to transgressors by society. 

So, he accepts a piece, trying to ignore the sand-like sensation against his tongue. As he chewed, the grin on the human’s face only got wider.

“Now that you’ve taken one, you have to give me your name, it’s only uh… fair!” 

Ah, it looks like he’s been tricked. Falling into the clumsy sugar-coated trap only a child could come up with. Yet, as his lilac gaze caught the twinkle still ever so bright in their eyes, he didn’t have the strength to form a frown. 

Just a curious human child, only as dangerous as a firefly buzzing in his ear. There shouldn’t be any harm in disclosing the surname bestowed upon him by this nation.

“Neuvillette.” He finally said his first words to you. 

A peculiar pattern is recurring. That rainy night when Neuvillette opened those windows, it looked like he welcomed a phenomenon in as well. 

Even in his current state, a small human like you could pose no possible threat to him. Thus, whenever a certain tap was placed against the glass. He saw no reason to turn away the visitor. Allowing you to climb in through his window time and time again.

It would’ve been better if you used the door. However, he’s aware of the complications such a request would bring.

Perhaps it’s because he’s currently in the form of a young child, sharing a similar stature to yours. From his observations, humans do have a tendency to gravitate toward those with similar traits. Or perhaps, you’re just exceptionally brazen. 

Neuvillette glances up from his book, thick with endless sentences describing obscure and frivolous laws, landing on your frame lazing around upon a rug.

One hand holds onto a collection of fables, pages illuminated by the gentle rays of a star. While the other periodically reaches out toward a pile of conch madeleine.

A sight he’s come to expect now. 

Lavender eyes follow your hand as it brings another one of the crumbly sweets to your mouth again. You brought them over under the pretense of sharing them with him, yet they’re already half gone. The only hand reaching for the sweets being yours.

Just like how it was last time, and the time before that, and the one before that as well. 

If you felt this complacent in his presence now, then perhaps he can be more candid with you. As is common practice among humans to present a polite front that gradually wears away each recurring meeting. 

“You do not have to bring over any more conch madeleine.” 

The moment those words left his lips the motion of your hand halted, looking up to connect your sight with his, confusion pinching together your brows.  

“Oh? Why so suddenly?” The collection of fables now resting on the rug. 

It’s already been done, the first ripple in the frangible water between you and him. There is nothing that can cease the waves that accompany the first breach. He might as well say the whole truth. 

“They are dry, I cannot fathom how you can bring yourself to eat them.” Prescriptive eyes caught a faint flinch as you processed his edict.

“They taste fine to me…” You mutter, picking another one up. 

This time you chewed slower. The pinch between your brow only grew as you tasted the sweet again, searching for the perceived flaw.

As you met his gaze once more, he could tell your search brought forth no fruitful conclusions. Thus you asked another question in response.

“Then what do you like?”

Besides the pleasantries commonly exchanged between humans in Fontaine, Neuvillette recognizes he lacks the talent for small talk.

The room usually filled with your grievances about whichever tedious task you were assigned before you slipped away behind a wall and into his private residence. Ambient noise which accompanied each flip of a law book. 

It is long overdue for him to pull his weight in a conversation. 

“Water, spring water.”

“Huh?”

Neuvillette repeats his sentence but the scrunch of your brows doesn’t ease up, he couldn’t fight the urge to draw in a deep breath. So this is the limitation of the human palate, how regrettable. 

“Perhaps you are still too simple to appreciate the qualities of water.” 

The pout upon your crumb-covered lips morphs into a tight line, sealing away your voice.  The brightly printed cover of a storybook was shut as the last few remaining treats were bundled away in a napkin. 

Your tea break ended early today, impassive eyes following your figure as it disappeared among the thick vegetation beside a stone barrier. 

It was quiet today, not even a single parting uttered past your sealed lips. Therefore leaving the conversation unfinished. 

But that is today, you’ll have another tea break tomorrow, and you’ll come to him with your grievances about chores tomorrow as well. 

The young dragon returns his focus to the text in front of him. 

–

The soft hymn of raindrops against a glass window reverbed through the solitary study, providing a melody for the periodic flips of paper. But the melody was hollow, incomplete.

Shifting his body to look behind himself at the vacant rug, Neuvillette deduces why. The accompaniment was missing. 

That tomorrow he had come to expect never came. 

Had he committed a transgression? Overstep a line outside his place? Food is a point of pride for many humans, one oddity he’s yet to grasp.

These temperamental creatures tend to lash out when their pride is wounded, much like how a beast reacts to an unhealed cut. 

Neuvillette was curious as to whether this was an inherent trait of humanity or a learned by-product of the fickle principles imposed on themselves.

However, observing the abandoned storybook tucked away, the young dragon is leaning towards the former. 

Turning back to face his desk, his eyes could only glaze over the monotonous scribbles. Perhaps the cause of his spiritless attitude was disappointment, disappointment in himself. 

It looks like he was careless, deluding himself with the misconception that you and him were alike. Two outsiders who found solace in each other’s presence.

However, this was false. You were an outsider to Fontaine, but he was an outsider to this world where humans walked. 

He’s still too naive.

Fickle and temperamental creatures spoiled by the usurpers at the expense of his ancestors.

Why did he even entertain the thought that you and him could ever be alike?

Something stirred from within, like when pebbles were thrown into still water, but what were those pebbles? As Neuvillette ponders this conundrum, the drumming of the rain grows louder. 

However, it wasn’t loud enough to swallow up the sharp set of taps which interrupted his somber reflection. Jolting him from his thoughts, snapping his attention to the source of the noise.

There stood a figure distorted by the wet glass as another set of sharp taps sounded through the room. 

Before Neuvillette could even process it, his body moved without his command. Unlatching the lock and setting the window free from its frame.

Not sparing another second to the raindrops soaking into their cloak, the figure clambers through the window with practiced proficiency.

Without uttering a single greeting, not even one pleasantry, you situated yourself on his floor. Melting into an undignified lump on the pristine tiles as bewildered eyes watched you.

After catching a few breaths, an explanation finally makes its way to his ears. 

“T-they… they patched… up the hole,” you huffed out between short breaths. 

Ah, the small cavity in the stone wall that you used to escape from chores. Looks like the security at the estate finally noticed.

Gauging the height of the wall from his place by the window, he’s aware of how it towers over both him and you the same.

This brings up another question as he returns to observe your frame, still trying to catch the breaths that evade you. 

“I… ran… through the gates… before the… Gardes noticed…” Exhaustion evident in your eyes as pants break up your sentence. 

Ah, looks like his question was answered before he even inquired. To be puzzled or amazed, he wasn’t too sure how to categorize this ripple inside him.

The tomorrow that’s been missing for a little more than two weeks, is now right in front of him.

Panting and leaving a few muddy traces along the marble floor, but here nonetheless. 

With one deep motion of your lungs, you pushed your body up, finally getting ahold of your breath. The familiar rustle of your pocket, the audio cue for a certain dry sweet to appear. Neuvillette didn’t mind in the least.

Perhaps, he can bear the sandy sensation just for today. But tomorrow is always filled up with surprises, a glass bottle finding its way out of your pocket instead of sugary treats. 

“What is that?” An obvious question, but his voice found its way out of his mouth.

“Water, water from the servant’s well, I bottled it myself.” A small hand holds the bottle out more. 

“Thank you,” Neuvillette accepts it into his hands. 

He should really acquire some glasses to pour the water out into, it’s improper and bad manners to drink from the bottle.

However, his curiosity was greater. Or maybe, he didn’t realize just how parched he had become from waiting for tomorrow. 

Uncapping the clumsily packaged water, he takes a generous sip. 

“It’s sweet.” His tongue picking up on a subtle saccharine undertone. 

“Really?” Your hand reaches up as that familiar shine illuminates your eyes. 

Taking a sip from the bottle passed back into your grasp, your brows furrowing in concentration. Another sip was taken from the bottle as you continued to search for the sweetness in the water you’ve always drank.

A sight that tugged up at the lips of a boy still studying the shape of your quirked brows. 

Humans, fickle, perplexing, yet astoundingly curious creatures from the very beginning.

If he is to walk amongst the human world, then it’s best for him to be equally curious. To try and search for the harmony between two different breaths. 

A child of a maid far from their homeland. A status too insignificant to warrant the attention of Fontaine's factions, freeing you from their prying eyes and entanglements.

Therefore, it should be alright for him to continue observing you, no?

“Ahh… The rain is so unpredictable here in Fontaine, trying to hang out the wash here is always a gamble.” You sink further into the plush cushions of his settee. 

As the sun rose and fell, as the leaves grew green then gold, as the ground froze and thawed.

One thing remained unchanged throughout these cycles even as they repeated: your grievances over chores. 

The frequency of these complaints reaching his ears has increased, on the part that you now took over more of your mother’s responsibilities in managing the laundry of this estate. 

Besides your habitual complaints of the weather, one detail didn’t escape Neuvillette’s hearing: your proficiency in the Fontainian language has increased significantly.

Words no longer spoken clumsily or with unfamiliarity. Accent nearly indistinguishable from a native speaker. 

“The people here are fond of creating strange machinery, why can’t they make something to dry clothes?” You resume. 

The quill in his hand stops as he pauses in the middle of a sentence, glancing over his shoulder toward your slouching figure making yourself comfortable in the sofa that’s more familiar with your shape than his. 

“Perhaps you should be the one to create it, studying might do you some good as well,” came his curt response. 

His candid advice makes you sink further into the cushions with a groan. 

“I’d rather travel than study those jumbled-up books about machinery or whatever, in fact, I want to visit my homeland as soon as I can,” you grumble aloud. 

Ah, that’s right, you’re approaching the age where you could travel freely.

By law, you won’t be bound to the side of your mother, not needing any permission to come to and fro however you wish. No longer kept at this estate washing and folding sheets.

Indeed, you and him found yourselves in similar situations: on the cusp of freedom from this estate. 

While he was deep in thought, you filled the silence left behind by posing a question to him. 

“Do you plan on visiting your homeland anytime soon, Neuvi?” 

By now, the young dragon had stopped expending the effort to try and correct you in your butchering of his surname. Your reason being ‘it’s too long’.

Alongside you, he has grown in stature as well, elapsing you some time ago much to your dismay. If he wished to travel, not much would pose a problem to the young dragon.

However… where could he return to? A homeland… was there a section of his homeland untouched by the usurpers? If he were to go, would he ever want to return to this world?

Sensing the change in the air, dreary clouds blocking the sun’s rays from your skin, you were perceptive enough to ramble about a different matter.

Namely, how the chef of the estate recently changed the type of flour used in the kitchens, resulting in pastries and sweets that were less airy but more flavorful. 

Explaining to him the subtle improvements and deterioration in the quality of some baked goods. Filling the air of the study with bright-eyed ramblings until rays of light peek out from waning clouds. 

–

“Monsieur Neuvillette! It’s been a while since you’ve visited!” Soft patters of skipping steps made their way to the tall man. 

Tilting his sights down, Neuvillette greets the cheery melusine with a gentle smile which she returned with an equally bright grin.

While on a routine stroll along the riverbanks to stretch his legs after a long day, he found himself at the entrance of Merusea Village.

He wonders if it's his body’s natural response to get away from the Palais Mermonia and Opera Epiclese. 

Carrying him toward the direction of a secluded reprieve he discovered far away from the suspicious eyes of weary humans.

Condemnatory eyes were constantly pinned to the back of the young dragon who had recently emerged from a sheltered estate to sit in the grand seat of a Chief Justice. 

Days filled with nothing but a cacophony of voices echoing off the opera house walls. Screams from the accused and the eager murmurs of spectators blended into nothing more than a chaotic din in his ears. 

Gazing deeper into the small lake, the unsuspecting entrance to a hidden haven that the Melusines called home.

It would only take a moment, just one dip into the pristine water for him to disappear from the clamorous mortal realm.

Abandoning the overly grand seat of his post as easily as it would take for his head to vanish under the tranquil tide.

How great would it be to exist in the presence of creatures who could resonate with his own adriftness?

Maybe, he could finally discover the purpose of his current form and longevity in their company. Yes, that sounds about right. 

Just as the water wet the tip of his overly ornate shoe, all motion his body stills at a familiar call. 

“NEUVI!” Came a voice from just over the beaten path. 

Soon your silhouette follows the echo of your call, steps hurried yet worn.

When the young dragon departed from his temporary estate and into the Palais Mermonia, a certain specter followed him as well.

The same specter who’s currently huffing to catch their breath after such a rush. Trying to gather enough air to form their next sentence. 

“There you are! The grand tailor sent me to fetch you because you’re almost an hour late to the fitting of your new robe, they need to make sure the measurements are correct,” you chide. 

The exasperation of your words was most definitely caused by the fact you had to physically exert yourself in your search for the wandering Chief Justice. Evident by the pout on your lips and scrunched nose. 

His attention was quickly torn away from your recuperating figure by a faint tug of his slacks.

The Melusine had hidden herself behind his legs, creating a barrier between her and the strange mortal who seemingly appeared from the blue.

Her sudden movement caught your attention as well. 

Ah, that’s right. The Melusines have yet to be acquainted with humans, and humans with Melusines.

Two different species, two different breaths, and two different sets of eyes that can’t seem to see directly into each other. 

If his time within the wall of the estate and Palais Mermonia had proven anything, it would be the natural adversity humans had to differences.

Neuvillete certainly wasn’t prepared for such an event, nor was he sure how to handle it. 

In the midst of his inaction, your hand reached into your pocket, fumbling around before pulling out a handkerchief-covered lump.

Despite the soreness in your legs, you lowered your body until you were at eye level with the shorter Melusine. 

“Hello there, would you like some conch madeleines?” Unraveling the fabric to reveal the sweets which you seem to have an abundant supply of. 

The grip on his slacks tightened as she glanced up at him, lilac eyes catching the hesitance in her irises. Neuvillette gives a subtle nod, giving just enough reassurance for the small creature to release his pant leg.

Reaching a mitten-like hand toward the golden sweets, it only took one bite for the hesitance in her eyes to be replaced by a bright twinkle. 

“It’s tasty isn’t it?” Your lips formed a wider grin.

The Melusine responds with an eager nod, too occupied with bringing more of the buttery treat into her mouth.

At the sight of her restless chewing covering her cheeks with faint crumbs, you let out a giggle.  

“I’ll give you the rest of the sweets if you tell me your name,” you offered. 

After a few moments of the Melusine finishing her previous bite, she falls for the same trap he had many years ago. 

“My name is Carole!” She chirps. 

“What a wonderful name.” Your gaze softened further as you held out the treats, keeping your promise. 

As Carole reaches for more, she glances back up. Wide eyes twinkling as she inquires him with the one thought currently on her mind.

“Monsieur Neuvillette, does the human world have more treats as delicious as these?”

Ah, it looks like the stroll Neuvillette took today to relieve himself of mounting troubles only led him to more. 

The skies over the Court of Fontaine have been in a pensive stalemate, all too familiar clouds blocking azure hues. However, rain has yet to patter on the ground, as if the weather was unsure of itself. 

A feeling shared by the Chief Justice currently sitting at his desk, reviewing the details of the day’s trials. Albeit, half heartily. 

Much like the skies crowded with clouds, in the solitude of his office, his mind rang loud with thoughts. Neuvillette only had himself to blame for the current silence of his office, it’s been this way for around a week going on two now. 

Lilac eyes peered over the tops of the papers toward the shut doors, concealing him away. There hasn’t been a knock on those doors for some time now, due to the diligent Melusines who followed his request.

Turning away potential visitors with crafted excuses of ‘The Chief Justice is handling a very important case’ or ‘My apologies, but the Chief Justice is very busy’. 

Neuvillette recognizes that he’s currently no different than a child hiding away from the consequences of a broken vase. 

How childish, he chides himself as he returns back to his responsibilities. How would the citizens of Fontaine react to their Chief Justice conducting himself in such a manner?

He’s sure if Lady Furina were to catch wind of his behavior, she’d be greatly entertained. 

As if the mere mention of the nation’s archon presented a bad omen, the sturdy doors of his office swung open, revealing the face of a familiar visitor who’s been turned away one too many times. 

“My my, it’s been quite some time since I’ve seen the inside of this office, I almost forgot what it looks like,” you remark as your eyes hone in on him. 

The child’s hiding place under the bed has been exposed. 

“Good afternoon, I was not made aware you had any appointments with me.” Neuvillette’s own eyes trail past yours. 

From behind the door frames the figures of two Melusines quickly dodged away from his sight. A silent admission of guilt on their part, and Neuvillette didn’t have to look hard to deduce the crime they’ve committed: Accepting bribes. 

The evidence was right there in the form of buttery crumbs left on the corner of their mouths. Ah, you and with those conch madeleines of yours. 

It’d be best for him to finally handle the situation at hand, one he’s been trying to maneuver out of. 

“If I recall correctly, you were granted a vacation, why not take this chance to travel? It certainly is a prime opportunity-”

“Why have you been avoiding me, Monsieur?” you cut through the long-winded pleasantries and excuses. 

His lips press together, by now he’s well accustomed to your brazenness. However, the absence of a familiar name only said in your voice made the guilt weigh heavier on his shoulders.

Guilt which originated a few weeks prior. 

—

On a secluded riverbank, a routine walk under clear skies was halted. You were knelt down on the ground, uncaring of the sand sticking to the fabric of your clothes, as you held a Melusine between your arms. Two mittened hands clung to you as she soaked your shoulder with tears. 

“W-why? Why did he have to go?” Her sobs interrupted by sudden hiccups. 

As you rubbed circles into her back, something he saw humans do to soothe their crying young, Neuvillette watched from the side. Much like how he would observe those performances within the Opera Epiclese. 

Liath is her name, a diligent Melusine who patrolled the grounds of the Palais Mermonia. By her side, there would be a guard poodle who’d matched her skips with his prances. An inseparable duo, or it’d be more accurate to say, they were once an inseparable duo. 

Dogs are a species domesticated by humans, some might argue that they were created by humanity through generations of selection. So it stands to reason that they too would have a limited lifespan.

In fact, they have a lifespan even more restricted than that of the mortals who tamed them. 

The Melusines have just begun walking amongst humans, there were still many aspects their sheltered minds have yet to grasp. The fleetingness of mortality is one of them. 

Thus, Neuvillette did his best to caution them. 

However, just like how laws can’t completely stop crimes, his words can’t completely prevent such tragedies. All he could do was try.

“I’m sorry for your grief, this was the very reason why I cautioned you against getting too attached to him… A dog’s life is brief-”

“Monsieur Neuvillette.” 

The sentence died at the tip of his tongue as his eyes met yours. Gaze narrowed and brows furrowed, not even the Chief Justice dared to interject any further.

After you silenced him, your focus returned back to the grieving Melusine. 

Slowly standing back up from the ground, her frame cradled in your arms as her sobs continued. 

“I know it hurts,” you whispered, one hand patting her back, setting a steady rhythm reminding her to breathe. 

“B-but why? W-why is it so sad?” she hiccuped. 

You hummed, beginning to bounce her a bit within your hold. 

“Wouldn’t it be sadder if you never met him?” 

At your question, the Melusine stares at you through teary eyes. Expression lined with confusion. 

“To have loved him, and for him to have loved you in return…isn’t that enough?” You cooed, taking steps away from the riverbank. 

Still frozen in his place, the dragon could only stare at your back as it grew further and further away, soon disappearing from his view. 

He had misspoke.

Neuvillette recalled last Autumn. As the vivid hues of the foliage shriveled up to nothing more than a shadow of their former beauty, you laid your mother to rest. Burying her in a cemetery which overlooked the direction of your homeland.

His unsolicited reprimand must have been throwing salt into a wound that still bled. He had overstepped his authority. 

Murky clouds congregated in the once clear sky. 

—

Those were the events that transpired, events that have led to the current stalemate happening in his office. Lilac eyes couldn’t seem to find the courage to connect with yours. Another excuse finding its way to his tongue. 

“Didn’t you want to visit your homeland?”

“Oh?” Your brow quirks up, as your hands find their way to your hips. 

“And then who’d be here to repair the tears in your robe when you inevitably step on them?” Obviously unimpressed by his suggestion. 

“Surely there are other talented tailors here that can handle the task,” he rebukes. 

“Oh? Will they also untangle your hair from the ornamentation of chairs?” You press on.

“I can manage.”

“Then can the Chief Justice also manage all the uniforms for the Melusines? Can he sew every button and ensure they fit correctly?” 

Ah, with your last statement, Neuvillette concedes. A hush fills the room. 

The Melusines are still new to walking amongst humans, not many were willing to tailor specialized uniforms for their short stature. Thus, you took up the mantle. 

Perhaps out of a sense of responsibility, it was you who stirred their curiosity with those sweets of yours. 

It seems responsibilities tethered you to the Court of Fontaine, much like they did to him. After a few breaths, as always, your voice shatters the stalemate. 

“I’m not upset, Neuvi.”

With those words, his lilac eyes finally connect with yours. Finally able to see the soft curls at the corners of your lips.

It indeed has been a while since he last saw such a sight.

This time instead of replying with an excuse, he responds with a gentle hum. 

“Ugh, why are your curtains so dusty? When was the last time you went outside?” It wasn’t long before your attention returned to the state of his office. 

Strolling past his desk, your hands began to fuss with the thick drapes. Pouting at the dust that coated the lush fabrics.

All Neuvillette could do was follow with his gaze, papers long pushed to the side as for the first time in a while, an azure hue was seen peeking through the clouds. 

From his observations, it’s instinctive for humans to avoid pain. However, it’d be hypocritical of him to judge mortals for actions he’s been guilty of. 

“If I knew I had to work this hard now, I would’ve skipped more chores back at the estate,” you chuckle, pulling back the drapes to allow gold to illuminate his office.

To have loved and have been loved in return.

Was this the human rationale behind taming a dog? Having the reality of the future constantly lurking over each happy moment as the hands of time tick forward.

Why do humans dote on pets? Creatures that only live a fraction of a mortal life? 

Are happy memories a fair exchange for bitter grief, or are they the cure? 

As Neuvillette counts the strands of peeking silver that mingle within your lush locks, he prays he finds the answer soon. 

The clacks of ornate shoes reverberate down once unfamiliar halls, a towering figure lurks past bustling nurses who bow their heads at the sight of the Chief Justice as he passes by.

With a body like his, there is no reason for him to wander among these halls. Or more accurately, there once was no reason. 

The taps of his soles slowed as a familiar door came into view, the only detail which differentiated it from the rest of the hall being the brass numbers displayed. Bringing up a glove-clothed knuckle, delicate taps were placed against the wood.

Almost immediately, a muffled ‘come in’ resounded behind the frame. Granting the Iudex permission to turn the polished knob, allowing him entry as the hinges sang their welcome.

“My, my, if it isn’t Monsieur Neuvillette, to whom do I owe the pleasure?” A grin spreads across your face, crinkling the corners of your eyes. 

Instantly his frame stiffens in the midst of returning the door to its frame. Bringing his free hand up to his face, Neuvillette coughs as to compose himself once more.

“Please, forgo the formalities.” 

Though your eyes might not be as sharp as they once were, the delicate dusting of pink along his pointed ears couldn’t escape their sight. Making your eyes crinkle more.

Feeling entertained enough, you cease your teasing and gesture toward the vacant chair beside your bed.

Obediently, his towering figure strides up to the seat, the wood squeaking under his weight as he settles onto it. 

By now, the dragon has grown accustomed the structure of greetings, beginning with a layer of pleasantries. 

“How have you been fairing?” Lavender eyes scrutinize the sheets and pillows, searching for any unapparent flaws. 

“It’s just a mild case of pneumonia,” you muse aloud. 

Momentarily resting his eyes behind a slow blink, all he could do was sigh at your brazen nonchalantness. Yet with a ghost of a smile on the same lips that sighed.

It was a mild case of pneumonia, a common ailment during the frosty months. For someone as steadfast as you, such an illness might’ve surrendered to your stubbornness. 

It might've surrendered… if your body had remained as it once was.

How unfortunate it all is, that time is so cruel to mortal creatures.

Attentive eyes detailing each crease that settled by your lips, remnants of the many grins and laughs that stretched your face. 

The basking light of a selfish star catches in your hair, lush hues that have faded to brilliant ivory. A shade that you often compare to his while jesting, ‘We match now’.

However, Neuvillette begs to differ, the sunlight is much more luminous in your tresses.

Trailing his sights back to your gaze. Deep lines formed by countless dynamic expressions drew attention to the glimmer forever present in your irises. Like paths on a map that led lilac eyes to yours. 

“How are you finding your stay?” At times, Neuvillette found himself wondering how the azure tides appeared from your view. 

“Mm, quite uneventful, eating, staring out a window, sleeping.” 

He hums in response, contemplating if he should inquire you about such subjects. As you ramble, perhaps the dragon could grasp onto an inkling of understanding. 

“Well, at least I can say that my stay has been anything but lonely.” Your eyes motioning toward a corner. 

The bland, sterile wall overshadowed by a mass comprised of trinkets ranging from local flowers to any object whose surface catches light.

The heap grows day by day as each Melusine continues to bring their earnest gratitude to the human who sew each stitch of their coats. A sight that could stir even the most placid lake.

“They’re such sweethearts.” Each one of your words coated with endearment. 

Once more, all the dragon could respond with was a mellow hum. Slow breaths fill the complacent silence between two species, one blessed by time and one shunned by it.

Neuvillette has grown accustomed to the structure of conversations but, alas, he still has no talent for small talk.

In the absence of dialogue, the layer of short pleasantries long dissolving, Neuvillette is left with nothing but his inquiries. It was all he had left, and so it was all he could offer. 

“Are there any regrets you hold?” 

“Oh oh? Getting sentimental so out of the blue, Neuvi?” A familiar quirk graces your brow. 

“It’s nothing of the sort, just a musing that drifted in my mind during a stroll, I wish to know your thoughts on the matter.” 

“Mmm… I don’t feel that I have any regrets, living an honest life and having the fortune to never have stepped foot in the Fortress of Meropide.” 

“Is that really all? You never did get to travel like you dreamed of back at the estate.” 

“Haha, trying to stump me with that, Neuvi?” you chuckle. 

Relaxing more into the pillows which propped up your weary frame, you trail your sights toward the window. 

“Didn’t I tell you already? I’ll have plenty of time to travel once I become a cloud, I can go everywhere the sky can reach.” Smile softening on your lips. 

Neuvillette’s folded hands grasp one another tighter on his lap, his own lips pressing each other into a thin line.

The conversation was teetering closer and closer to the unspoken reality looming like a shadow in the room. 

He wasn’t sure when it started, maybe when the first silver strands appeared in your hair or when you discovered his skin won’t wrinkle along with you.

He wasn’t sure when your adamant belief of becoming a cloud once the shadow came to claim you started. 

Neuvillette wonders if this daydream was the product of those fables you browsed when you laid upon a plush rug.

Or was it your personally crafted fable to explain the incomprehensible to a creature who couldn’t fully grasp it?

A creature whose skin didn’t wrinkle, whose bones didn’t grow brittle. A creature seemingly untouched by time.

Fairytales do serve this purpose for children, magical fantasies to make uncomfortable realities palatable to naive minds. 

“...vi?... Ne…?... Neuvi.” 

A hand marred with age takes hold of one glove-clad hand, and a pleasant heat radiates through the leather. Coaxing Neuvillette’s attention back from its escapade. 

“My apologies, I was lost in thought for a moment.” He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. 

But the frown weighing down on your lips didn’t disappear, much like how retreating into musings couldn’t wash away any shadows.

Your chest moves with a deep inhale. 

“Maybe I do have one regret,” you began. 

Readjusting your ailing fingers in his hold so that he could hold them with equal endearment, his ears concentrate on your voice. 

“Actually, I have many,” you sigh. 

Before he could formulate a response, you continued. 

“I wish I could have shoulder the burdens you carry. I wish you would’ve shared them with me. And I wish I could even understand them, then maybe I could have understood you more.” Turning to face him, your disheartened eyes center on his frame. 

A child born from a maid, a maid who traveled to Fontaine in hopes of a better future for her child. That was your origin, an outsider with neither fame nor fortune.

Thus, even as you followed him from a secluded estate to the grand Palais Mermonia, you could never follow him in status nor influence. 

As unrest grew, as injustices mounted, and as tragedies took away friends.

All you could do was repair tears, sew buttons, and pour him a crisp glass of spring water as you waited for the storm to wash despair away.  

That was how you saw it. But Neuvillette rebukes that notion. 

The dignity of a newly established Chief Justice, who kept stepping on his overly ornate robes, was carefully maintained by you.

The Melusine’s uniforms, which solidified their presence in the human world, were crafted by you.

The patient hand that always offered silent comfort in the suffocating courts was yours. 

Standing by his side, even as your bones grew to ache, to ensure the storm would pass and the sun emerge once more. 

“You’ve done more than enough.” He states the truth, grasping your hand just a bit tighter. 

“Are you sure?” Those airy chuckles of yours made their appearance again. 

“I never even learned your real name,” you interject.

A knife, red hot and fresh from the forge, would have hurt less than the guilt which tore through him at that moment.

The Chief Justice, the symbol of honesty and conviction, is unable to tell the simplest truth.

What shall he do now?

The power of a name is often underestimated, the exchanging of names signifying the forging of a bond. One that would forever tether him to you and you to him.

Oh, what shall he do now? 

Before his hesitant lips could take action, they were halted by a squeeze from your ailing grasp. Firm and warm, like a light that guides him up from the bottom of a turbulent ocean. 

“You don’t have to tell me now, Neuvi, tell me when I come back from my trip.” Those gentle eyes of yours smile at him.

Reeling his hand in closer to you with your own, until the softness of your lips was felt along covered knuckles.

A common practice in Fontaine, one Neuvillette had witnessed time and time again as he passed the lovers who congregated by the Fountain of Leucine. Actions that dedicated promises to one another. 

“I swear, once I’ve traveled enough, once I grow bored of foreign scenery, I’ll fall back down like rain to your side.” You whisper into the kiss.

It was his turn now, and he shall honor this ritual. Tenderly bringing in your hand to him, Neuvillette places his oath.

“Then I swear, when you return, I’ll tell you my name.” He whispers in the kiss.

The sterile rooms echo your airy chuckles as he keeps your hand close to himself for just a bit longer. 

“Mmm… Where I should go first? Maybe I’ll just amble about,” you ponder aloud. 

Gracing him with a smile which stretched your face and brought that familiar glimmer into your eyes.

“I wish you well on your travels.” Neuvillette presses another kiss into your knuckles. 

–

Spring was always the rainy season for Fontaine, with gentle temperate showers to welcome the budding blooms back from their Winter sleep.

However, this year the torrential downpour was anything but gentle. 

Planned trips canceled for the season, clothes remaining damp in baskets, and streets empty of their vigor. Even the Melusines couldn’t bring a skip to their steps.

It was as if time itself was slowed by the burdensome downpour. 

The cawing of crows as their wings beat against the dreary winds adds to the lonely hymn sung by the raindrops.

At once the cadence of the rain increased, the downpour growing heavier, and the violent pattering grew deafening. As if the sky was now belting out their sorrowful ballad. 

The rain could try. The skies can cry all they would like. But time, a cruel and unforgiving mistress, won’t ever stop. 

To have loved and been loved, was it truly enough? 

In Neuvillete’s eyes, he was the tide and you were the shore. The ebb and flow of water as the tide and shore met, time and time again. 

Each crash into the shore stirred up something perplexing and disorderly within the tide, irritating like the sand that mixed into the pristine waves.

So the tide tried to retreat into the lonesome ocean. 

Each time, the shore followed through grains of sand which the tide couldn’t ever seem to purge himself of. 

Each time, the shore beckoned the tide to return to the sandy beaches of humanity filled with perplexities and disorder. 

And each time, the tide surrendered to the call of the shore, lured in by its warmth. 

But now, the shore has eroded away.

Where does the tide go now?

Drifting now in the vastness of a lonesome ocean, carrying nothing but grains of sand. What shall the tide do now?

Neuvillette still has a lot to learn, for he couldn’t answer this riddle conjured by his own mind. 

Unable to stop himself, the lone dragon stares off into the rain.

Eyes honing in the direction of a peaceful hill, one where a mother and child were laid to rest side by side overlooking a homeland they never got to visit.

Maybe that was the first destination of your journey. 

During these past short years spent in this land, the young successor of the dragons has gained traitorous knowledge. One that undermines his preconceived purpose. 

Neuvillette feels he’s grasped onto the faintest inkling of why humans, as fickle, perplexing, and fleeting as they are, were still the most beloved creatures of the gods. 

Perhaps, he even understands now why those usurpers were willing to uproot the earth just for those beloved creatures. 

The wet season transitions into the dry season, then the dry season will transition into another wet season. Again and again, on and on as the hands of a clock ticks forward.

Each new tick signifies another step forward in the march of time.

Each step brings change and each step pulls the present away from the past. 

The rainy season of Spring was no longer as troublesome as it once was, as there was now a machine on the market that could dry clothes without the help of a bright star.

Melusines skip along down the paved paths of the Court of Fontaine as humans turn to greet them with endearing smiles.

New cafes line bustling streets as Clockwork Mekas make their evening patrols. 

A great many changes have come to Fontaine, Neuvillette witnessed them all from his office at the Palais Mermonia.

A great many changes, yet some things are bound to stay the same. For example, the Chief Justice’s fondness for strolls along vacant riverbanks. 

The gentle patters of raindrops lull the chaotic sympathy of trials, paperwork, and duties to a standstill. Reaching a hand out in front of him, Neuvillette catches a few drops in the palm of his gloved hand.

Lilac eyes examine the diminutive puddle in his hand before ultimately releasing the water back to the earth. 

He supposes he’s been feeling a bit nostalgic as of late, like a child recalling a story which once soothed them to a peaceful slumber. How childish it was for him to believe he could somehow catch a certain raindrop in his hands.

Turning up toward the drab sky, he searches through the endless and identical droplets that fall down and leave trails along his face. 

No, not yet. Perhaps they have yet to see all that the sky has to offer. 

Neuvillette returns his focus to the path in front of him. The rhythmic clacks of his shoes match with the soft drumming of the rain, and in the midst of this harmony a voice sings out:

“Hydro dragon… uh… Hydro dragon, don’t cry.”

Halting his stride. Judging by the unfamiliarity of their tongue pronouncing the lullaby, Neuvillette deduces they must be a visitor to Fontaine.

Ah that local legend, just how far has it spread? Nevertheless, an unfortunate traveler who’s unfamiliar with Fontaine’s seasons is now caught in this rain. 

It would only be polite to offer them some assistance as the Iudex of this nation. Thus, he turns in the direction of the call.

His suspicions were confirmed once his gaze landed on a distressed frame, their face obscured by the jacket they held over their head in a makeshift umbrella. 

It only took a few steps for the towering man to make it to their side.

“There is a tree you can take shelter under just ahead,” he advises the lost traveler.  

Now aware of his presence in front of them, they lifted the jacket from their line of sight to peer up at him. Revealing the details of their face to lilac eyes for the first time.

That was all it took for the symphony of rain to come to an end.

Soft drumming decrescendos into tranquility. It seems as if there will be an earlier welcome of flowers.  

“Oh?” You gaze up at the azure hue now peeking out from receding gray, astonishment reflected in the glimmer of your eyes. 

You’ve only heard of a local Fontainian legend from a guide pamphlet offered to tourists as you awaited the Aquabus.

When the rain suddenly began to pour as you ambled about a riverside, in a moment of desperation as you scrambled for shelter under a thin jacket you uttered the phrase.

You weren’t sure if the hydro dragon could understand your botched pronunciation, but it looks like he did.  

 Turning back to face the kind stranger, you wanted to convey your amazement to him. But the words fade just off the tip of your tongue when you peek back at the towering man.

Your eyebrows scrunch together as dumbstruck eyes widen at the sight of the drenched man.

“Mister?… Are you alright?” You scan over him, turning your attention away to sift through your pockets. 

How bewildering it must be for you to witness a well-dressed and noble figure drenched to the bone. However, Neuvillette made no attempt to stop the rivulets rolling down his cheeks, a parting gift from the Spring showers. 

He wonders as his gaze never left your frame, were tears perhaps this warm too?

“Here.” Your concern-ridden hand offers up a neatly folded handkerchief to the drenched man. 

As your eyes connect with his, a strange sensation tickled the back of your mind. As if it was trying to recall where you’ve seen the familiar lavender hue.

Maybe they matched the shade of a flower field you stumbled upon during your travels, or maybe that lilac luster was revealed to you in a dream.

A strange familiarity you couldn’t name. 

“Thank you very much.” He accepts the simple piece of cloth with tenderness rivaling that of conservators handing the renowned paintings of old masters. 

The clouds were long gone by now, perhaps they felt that their purpose had long been fulfilled. The golden rays of a lone star shone with all their brilliance, finally free from behind their blanket of drap clouds. 

It was only now that Neuvillette found out. The rain he had been yearning for all these years did in fact see all that the sky had to offer.

They had grown bored of drifting over vast plains, missing the picturesque countryside of Fontaine. Or perhaps their curiosity grew too great, wishing to finally hear a truth that was kept from them.

So much so, they quietly fell down from the sky, to return to his side again. 

Much like the hands in a clock, the cycle of water and earth follows a similar circular path. 

The rain had eroded away stubborn earth with its diligent drumming over the years.

Bit by bit and piece by piece until stone fractures into bits of sand. Over and over until a sandy beach was formed by the side of a patient sea.

Then the tide will reunite with its long-awaited shore, to return the sand and promise it cradled within its waves for so long. 

~Fin

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS. 

[planetpiastri]

pairing: logan sargeant x fem!reader [no faceclaim, reader is faceless] summary: when alex's childhood friend makes an appearance on his instagram, logan is instantly smitten, but the universe insists on keeping them only as a missed connection, and alex isn't helping matters. notes: the long awaited part three! i'm currently giving all my fics a facelift, but the guilt about this update has been eating away at me, so here you guys go<3 i've decided to stop living in denial and just admit this is a full series now so here comes the (brief) angst era! [series masterlist]

liked by lilymhe, georgerussell63, and 154,329 others

alex_albon winter break, you were fun 🫡 see you next year!

view all 2,876 comments

username1 try not to say parents challenge level impossible (failed)

lilymhe he stole that car

alex_albon you promised you wouldn't tell anyone!!

username2 looking good albono! excited to see you scoring points soon!

williamsracing Nice hat! :D

username3 guys can i confess something.... i miss yn :(

username4 you guys say this under all of his posts. obviously something happened and they don't post each other anymore for a reason, respect their space and stop bringing this up.

liked by alex_albon, logansargeant, and 71,823 others

williamsracing the boys are back and so are we ����

view all 3,012 comments

username5 RRRAAHHH I SMELL DOUBLE POINTS

username6 the new suits are AWESOME, the boys are gonna kill it this season!!!!!

alex_albon who approved that corny ass caption

logansargeant Me alex_albon i'm gonna steal your tires

username7 even if yn has vanished off the face of the earth at least we can thank her for bringing the williams boys closer together so that we get to see them goofing off in the comments 😔

username8 yeah but it's all for show like they don't hang out off track anymore... landonorris oh are we just saying things in the comments? i wanna join!! george sleeps with a teddy bear georgerussell63 Don't drag me into this wtf alex_albon it's true, he does

liked by oscarpiastri, alex_albon, and 71,013 others

logansargeant Some bits and bobs from the break

view all 2,789 comments

username9 what kind of whack british caption is that

username10 maybe the rumors about him and alex not hanging out were wrong, maybe they're hanging out TOO MUCH actually...

alex_albon i have taught you well, young padawan

username11 omg logan and oscar content we're soooo back

williamsracing Looking energized, Sarge!

username12 the fact that we never got a hard launch for logan and yn so we'll never know if they actually got together is my roman empire

username13 no fr!! they were flirting and bantering all over the place and then suddenly BOOM! she just disappears like wtf happenedddd username14 you guys talking abt a possible situationship not happening vs twenty years of friendship between alex and yn that's gone... have some priorities username15 hi just popping in to say you guys are weird af for speculating like this under his winter break dump 💀 move tf on

logansargeant

liked by georgerussell63, oscarpiastri, and 68,578 others

logansargeant Quick trip back over the pond before locking in 👊 bring it on season ✌️

view all 2,549 comments

username16 wait did we miss a step

alex_albon that does not look like sim work

logansargeant Are you my dad or something? Get a life alex_albon DAMN

username17 um? um?? the last picture??? um??????

georgerussell63 What

logansargeant Who? georgerussell63 ?? logansargeant Asked

username18 please be a soft launch with that girl from the afterparty please please please please please

oscarpiastri Interesting.

username19 OSCAR WHAT DO YOU KNOW

williamsracing

liked by ynusername, logansargeant, and 78,321 others

williamsracing Good times in Bahrain! See you next year, Sakhir 😉

view all 3,253 comments

username20 WHAT was that strategy guys

alex_albon "good times" literally where that was nothing but pain

williamsracing ☹️👉👈 we're sowwy awex alex_albon ew wtf don't say that to me

username21 guys? yn liked? she's alive?

username22 JUSTICE FOR LOGAN'S STEERING WHEEL

tagging: @sticksdoesart @hiireadstuff @minkyungseokie @thatoneembarrasingmoment @croissantbakerylws @dear-fifi @imjustme-n @kn1n3 @captainfrisbee @ssrcsm @rhythmstars @urfavnoirette

if you want to be tagged in future parts, fill out this form

[a-aexotic]

𝐛𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡, chapter 1

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ! 3.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ! familial issues, underage drinking, tension (between literally every LOL), blair/serena hating each other, you/blair and you/serena being besties lol, a lotta winfrey lore

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ! ahhhh im super excited, as always please lmk your thoughts !!

previous next

➜ missing out on updates? ❪ navigation. series masterlist. taglist. ❫

PRESENT DAY.

Hey, Upper East Siders, Gossip Girl here, and I have the most surprising news ever. Y/N Winfrey spotted back in town after she disappeared for almost 6 months. But where has she been all this time? Sources tell me she's been living it up in the City of Love, Paris. Oh la la! But what brings our darling Y/N back to the Big Apple after all this time? Could it be a scandalous affair, a family feud, or perhaps a fashionable rendezvous with the elite of Parisian society?

Rumors are swirling as to the reason behind Y/N's sudden return. Some say she's back to reclaim her rightful place among Manhattan's elite, while others speculate that she's returned to stir up trouble in the already turbulent waters of Upper East Side.

But what of Y/N's infamous entourage? Will her loyal subjects, Nate, Isabell, Kati and Blair, welcome her back with open arms, or will there be whispers of betrayal and backstabbing among the ranks of Manhattan's elite?

Will she pick up right where she left off, ruling the social scene with her signature grace? Or has her time away changed her in ways we can't even imagine? So grab your designer handbags and your most scandalous gossip, Upper East Siders, because things are about to heat up in the city that never sleeps. XOXO, Gossip Girl.

As the sleek black limousine rolled to a stop in front of the towering building, the door swung open with a soft whoosh, revealing the figure of Y/N Winfrey stepping out into the cool Manhattan air.

With a flick of your hair, you cast a cool gaze towards your old home, a grand penthouse that stood as a testament to the wealth and power of the Winfrey family. The familiar sight of the elegant facade stirred a flurry of emotions within you, memories both bitter and sweet flooding your mind as you took in your old home.

You were too focused on the old home to hear your mother come up from behind you, putting a hand on her shoulder as she examined the home as well. She hadn't been there since the divorce, which was almost a decade ago.

"I know you're nervous, Y/N. But don't let any of them get to you, okay?" Her voice rang in your ears as you nodded slowly. You weren't sure who she was referring to; your father's new family or your old friends. Or maybe, all of the above.

"Okay," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I won't."

With a reassuring squeeze of your mother's hand, you gathered your resolve and stepped forward, ready to face whatever awaited you within the walls of your old home.

Your new family met you with open arms and it felt strange to be back home, the same home you'd left; except, everything inside had changed. There were no more pictures of you anywhere, they were all replaced with wedding photos or pictures of your new stepsister, Charlene. It made your stomach twist in disgust, you couldn't believe your father had a brand-new, shiny family. The perfect family he'd prayed for, you were almost happy for him. Almost.

"So how was Paris, Y/N? Did you like it?" Josie's voice brought you back to real life. You turned your gaze up to meet hers, a tight smile on your lips. You were sat in the living room of the penthouse, alongside your mother and stepmother.

"It was... fun," you reply carefully, your tone neutral. You couldn't bring yourself to admit just how much you missed Paris, how it had felt more like home than this place ever did. Instead, you plastered on a facade of indifference, hoping to shield yourself. "It's too bad that we left."

Your mother let out a light laugh as she glanced back at you. "We'll be back as soon as we can. I just missed New York so much and I'm so happy to be back." What she didn't mention was that the only reason she was back was for her business, she wanted to open more shops in Manhattan.

"Yeah, it's nice to be back," you replied, forcing a smile. Despite your mother's attempt to lighten the mood, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of your stomach.

Josie, your stepmother, chimed in, her voice cheerful. "I'm glad to hear that. I'm sure you'll adjust to being back in no time. Especially with Eleanor's party tonight, you'll be attending that... right?"

"Yes, yes she will." Your mother answered for you. You knew that your mother wanted to reintroduce you back into Manhattan society but you didn't even have time to adjust back into New York time, you were jetlagged.

You didn't want to even think about why you even left in the first place. When you decided to leave, you promised that when you'd come back, you'd leave it in the past. You'd leave him in the past.

Nate. The mere thought of him sent a shiver down your spine, a reminder of the heartache you had endured before leaving for Paris. You had promised yourself that you would never allow him back into your life, that you would move on and leave the past where it belonged.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed as your mother and stepmother continued to discuss the details of the upcoming event, their voices fading into the background as your mind wandered back to memories you had long tried to forget.

──౨ৎ──

"And if they ask you about the business, what do you say?" Your mother quizzed you as she put on lipgloss, looking into the mirror of the hallway of the building that Blair's penthouse resided in.

You tore your gaze away from your own reflection to meet your mother's eyes, a sense of unease creeping into your stomach. "I'll say that things are going well," you replied, your tone carefully neutral. "That we're expanding and looking for new opportunities in Manhattan."

Your mother nodded in approval, her lips curving into a satisfied smile. "Good," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of pride. "Just remember to keep it vague. We're a family, and we need to show the world that we're strong, no matter what."

You forced a smile, though the weight of your mother's words hung heavy in the air. The facade of unity was fragile, and you knew that beneath the surface, tensions simmered, threatening to boil over at any moment.

Your mother finally finished her lip gloss, focusing now solely on you. "Remember, confidence is key. You're representing not just yourself, but our entire family."

"Got it." You answered, the words coming out as more of a reassurance to yourself than to her.

Her words echoed in your mind as you followed her towards Blair's penthouse, the anticipation of Eleanor's party looming ever closer. The elevator dinged and the door opened, revealing the glamorous penthouse of the Waldorf's. Your mother's hand found yours as she squeezed it, reassuring as you two walked back into Manhattan's elite society.

"Priscilla Winfrey! You made it!"

Your mother's head turned to meet Eleanor, a charming smile enveloping her lips as she walked toward her.

"Oh, and is that Y/N?" Eleanor gasped as she studied you, taking every little detail in. "You look absolutely stunning, sweetheart. You're starting to look more and more like your mother every passing day."

"Thank you, Ms. Waldorf," you replied graciously, offering her a polite smile. Despite the compliment, you couldn't shake the sense of unease that gnawed at you.

Eleanor's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before she turned her attention back to your mother, engaging her in conversation. Left momentarily alone, you scanned the room, taking in the familiar faces that surrounded you.

Your eyes landed on your old friend group, all seated on the couch. A sense of nostalgia hit you as you examined their faces, all the nights you'd spent partying with them playing in your head. Isabell, Kati and Chuck sat as they spoke, talking about God knows what.

You couldn't help but wonder where Blair was, it was her party and she wasn't with her friends. And of course, Nate.

Chuck's eyes finally met yours, a wide smirk on his lips as his eyes fell on your body before back to your eyes. But before you could go up to them, you heard an excited squeal behind you.

"Y/N!"

You recognize that voice anywhere; it was Blair. She enveloped you in a tight hug, her excitement palpable as she pulled back to study your face. "Oh my God, it's been too long." she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling but there was something you couldn't quite place. "You look amazing, as always."

You were nervous, it had been so long since you'd seen your old best friend. Your stomach twisted in guilt as you gave her a tight smile, her hands squeezing yours. "Thank you, Blair. You looked stunning but I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that."

Blair's smile faltered for just a moment before she regained her composure, a flash of something unreadable passing through her eyes. "Thank you, Y/N," she replied, her tone warm but tinged with an undercurrent of tension. "I'm just glad you're here. Like, really here."

You and Blair had been close since you were kids, your families being close since the beginning of time, basically. Your mothers were best friends in school and now, you are too. Before you left Paris, you told Blair and Serena and made sure to give them calls whenever you could. But soon, Serena stopped answering your calls and according to Blair, she just disappeared to a boarding school in Connecticut.

Blair still didn't know the real reason you fled to Paris and that gulit chipped at you everyday, even more now as you saw her lips curve into a rare genuine smile.

"I've missed you, Blair," you replied, your voice tinged with sincerity. "It's good to be back."

"It's good to have you back, Y/N." Blair gave your hand a squeeze before she spoke again. "Excuse me for two seconds, I have to go to the bathroom."

"Of course, Blair," you replied, offering her a reassuring smile as she excused herself.

You let out a sigh before turning your focus back to your mom, who was now in a conversation with a person you weren't sure you knew the name of. You knew you couldn't bother her right now, she was networking.

With a resigned sigh, you resigned yourself to the role of observer, content to blend into the background as your mother worked her magic in the world of Manhattan's elite. It wasn't the first time you had found yourself sidelined in favor of your mother's professional pursuits, and you knew it wouldn't be the last.

You couldn't blame her, though. After the divorce, her career had become more than just a family business—it had become her lifeline, it was the only thing she still had.

You remembered the days that followed your parents' separation, the way your mother had thrown herself into her work with a fervor bordering on obsession. It had been her way of coping, her way of escaping the pain and heartache that had threatened to consume her. You didn't blame her, her high school sweetheart had left her for a woman almost half her age, closer in age with her daughter than her.

You found the drinks table quickly, grabbing a glass of champagne and taking a sip of it. As you lifted the glass to your lips, the cool and crisp taste of the champagne washed over your tongue, distracting you from the emotions swirling within you. With a sigh of contentment, you leaned against the table, letting the hum of conversation and laughter wash over you.

As you scanned the room, your eyes fell on a familiar brunette. Your heart skipped a beat as you realized who it was; the person you'd been wanting to escape since you left for Paris. His bright blue eyes met yours and you felt a rush of conflicting emotions flood through you. It was Nate, your once-close friend, the one person who had been a constant presence in your life before everything changed.

His gaze held surprise as he caught sight of you across the room, and for a moment, you found yourself unable to tear your eyes away from him. You were frozen, unable to move as he approached you.

You couldn't escape him now.

Nate's lips curved into a smile as he took you in, with all your glory. "Y/N, you're back. It's, uh... good to see you."

"Yeah, you too." You responded, giving him a short answer.

Nate's smile faltered slightly at your response, a flicker of disappointment flashing across his features before he quickly masked it. "So, uh... how have you been?" he asked, his tone cautious as though treading on uncertain ground.

"I've been good. And you?"

"Me too. I'm happy you're back." He looked down at the glass of champagne as he let out a chuckle. "I'm glad you still have that taste of champagne, some things just never change."

You couldn't help but smile at Nate's attempt to lighten the mood, the tension between you easing ever so slightly. "Yeah, some things never change," you agreed, a hint of warmth creeping into your voice.

"Nate!" Blair's voice echoed as she came up to the two of you, grabbing his arm. "You don't mind if I steal him for a second, Y/N."

You and Nate exchanged looks before you tore your eyes from him and back to Blair, a forced smile playing on your lips. "Of course not, he's all yours." In more ways than one, you thought to yourself as the two walked away, leaving you alone once again.

Before you could relish in being alone again, your mother's voice rang behind you. "Y/N! Blair! Look who's back."

You turned to meet the blonde you'd once called your best friend. Serena. Her gaze held excitement as she found yours, you began walking toward and engulfing her in a big embrace.

You didn't know why she left for Connecticut but you knew she would tell you and Blair eventually. You, Serena and Blair had always been close and tight-knit, no matter the circumstances.

Serena pulled out of the hug and put her hands on your shoulders as she studied your face, a grin on her face. "You're glowing, Y/N."

"Says you. How did you get even more blonde since I've seen you?" You teased as she let out a laugh.

Serena's laughter echoed through the hallway, a sound that filled you with a sense of warmth and familiarity. Despite the time that had passed since you had last seen each other, it felt as though no time had passed at all.

"I've been spending way too much time in the sun," Serena admitted with a playful grin, her blue eyes sparkling. "But enough about me, tell me everything. How was Paris? Did you meet any cute French boys?"

You chuckled at Serena's teasing. "Paris was amazing," you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you recalled your time. "And as for French boys, well, let's just say they definitely live up to the hype."

Serena laughed, nudging you playfully with her elbow. "I knew it!"

"Serena?"

You both turned to face Blair, a unreadable expression on her face before she quickly masked it with excitement. She pulled her into a tight hug but you could feel the tension, what the hell did you miss when you were Paris?

"So good to see you, how are you?" Blair pulled out of the hug as she looked in between you.

"Oh, look! The girls are back together, my heart is gonna burst." Eleanor gasped as she observed the scene in front of her, oblivious to the tension in the room. "Are you staying for dinner, I'll set a place next to Y/N and Blair!"

"Yeah, um, there's somewhere I have to go." Serena looked in between you, a guilty expression on her face.

"You're leaving?" Blair's voice sounded hurt as she looked back at Serena.

"Yeah... I don't feel well, I-I just wanted to come and say hi. I'll see you guys at school tomorrow." Serena responded as she slowly began to back up, before she turned away.

Blair's expression dropped immediately back to a bitter expression, looking back to you. "At least you're staying. Who needs Serena anyway?" She whispered the last part as she turned away and began walking away.

You began following behind her, "What did I miss?"

"What do you mean?"

You caught up to Blair and you two began walking toward the couch. "I mean... with you and S?"

"Serena." She corrected. "And nothing except all you know. She left without saying a word, to none of us." Blair sounded bitter but you knew deep down, she was just hurt.

"Well, maybe something happened."

"With what?" Chuck joined the conversation as Blair glared at him. You could feel Chuck's gaze on your dress as he smirked.

"Mind your business, Chuck." Blair spoke as she rolled her eyes.

You caught Chuck's gaze, his smirk igniting a spark of annoyance within you. "Chuck, it's not polite to stare," you retorted, your tone sharp as you shot him a pointed look. Some things never do change, you thought.

Chuck's smirk widened at your words, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Forgive me, I couldn't help but admire the view," he replied smoothly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You did some growing up in Paris, I could tell." His eyes were focused on your dress as you scoffed.

"Paris does wonders for a person," you replied dryly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered.

──౨ৎ──

"I'm pregnant! Surprise, Y/N!" Josie shouted as your father pulled her in closer, your jaw slowly falling. She's... what? Your fork clattered against the plate, the sound echoing in the tense silence that followed Josie's announcement. Pregnant? The word echoed in your mind, disbelief and shock washing over you in waves.

Your head was pounding, you got home around 12:30 last night because the party lasted a little longer than expected. You were just trying to enjoy your breakfast before school, but then they drop this bombshell on you.

"Wh-what?" You finally managed to stammer out, your eyes wide with disbelief as you looked at Josie. "How does, uh, Charlene feel about it?"

Charlene was Josie's daughter from her previous relationship, she was about two years younger than you and... well, you couldn't stand her.

"You can ask her yourself!" Josie's gaze moved behind you and you turned to face Charlene. Speak of the devil.

Charlene's lips curved into a smile, though there was a flicker of something else in her eyes. "Super excited. I mean, I can't wait to be an older sister."

There was awkward silence before you got up from the dining table, clearing your throat. "Well... I have to get ready for school. This was really nice."

You got up and began walking up the stairs, ignoring their stares. You wanted to stay with your mom but she was staying at The Palace and your father insisted you stayed with them and his shiny new family.

➜ missing out on updates? ❪ navigation. masterlist. taglist. ❫

[notscarsafe]

OKAY SO what with the TWO new Hermits implied by the updated banner I will say that, though the Skizz truthers have me convinced, I now have room to do my own crazy red string monologue and throw my hat in for my choice

1) Mythical J. Sausage (the J is silent) is a multitalented S-tier builder that absolutely deserves to be shoulder to shoulder with the Hermits. The man does buildings, interiors, terraforming, custom trees, and he does them SO WELL.

2) The production values!!! Beautiful replay mod sequences with shifting camera perspectives, shaders, music that sets the tone for each segment that's different from series to series. He already has more than a million followers on YouTube and for good reason!!

3) He has been SO consistent lately. He started a hardcore world about three months ago (about the time you might expect the Hermits to finalize their s10 choices maybe...???) and already has 15 episodes and hasn't gotten involved in any other big content. (He did just start playing a little of the BCG server but from what I understand that's super casual /copium copium copium).

4) That hardcore world is conveniently about to reach a good "pause" point. He started his world on a cherry blossom biome island that he's filled with a medieval village and starter farms, he's said it's almost full and what's left is the castle. I'm guessing the new season will start the first week of February, so if Sausage puts out a video this week building out that Castle and finishing that island it will be MIGHTY CONVENIENT TIMING.

5) This man can GRIND. His Hardcore world hasn't even been going half a year and he's built... So much??? Magnificent! And when he was on the Hermitcraft server he did the Razorcrest for scar AND the player head baby yoda/stormtrooper merch AND the noteblock themesong AND still built in the xmas village and other "diamond of peace" and so many other shenanigans. Did the man even sleep? He can grind with the best of them.

6) He can do redstone, too! Maybe not unique designs, I honestly don't know, but he builds farms for build materials no problem.

7) The DRAMA this man loves his improv and his backstory and trauma lore! For every series he does! Can you imagine if he gets to interact with Ren for an extended period of time, what that would do to them, to us?? Give Martyn a run for his money!!

8) Which brings me to my next point, which is that Sausage is already One of The Gang, because he's been in series with so many of the Hermits already! Empires and the crossover, obviously, but also Pirates with Cleo and Origins with Scar, and he's even done MCC! Joel is the only other player with the same depth of different series but there are other people truthing him already.

9) The EPIC BROMANCE with Pearl. My god the devotion of this man to his sunflower goddess bestie. I would try to do ot justice but y'all have seen floweroflaurelins work, you already know.

10) He's already a PG streamer but with HILARIOUSLY PG-13 tendencies. Imagine him and Cleo cracking each other up at an HHH stream, *grips your shoulders* IMAGINE IT.

11) Sausage comes with his own mascot in the form of interdimensional dog extraordinaire Bubbles, but he's also just an animal lover on general. Mans drinks his "I love Jellie" juice and had her in his world even before the sad news of her loss.

12) Diversity win! No one should be hired just for their gender, race, sexuality etc etc unless it's truly necessary to the job, but we were all happy when more women got added to the server in s8 and I know a lot of people would be happy to see some ethnic diversity added, too.

... That bulletin board had a lot more pins in it than I thought it did but anyway MYTHICALSAUSAGE TRUTHERS/ALL OTHER TRUTHERS RISE UP SPEAK YOUR TRUTH! we'll only get to wildly speculate for a few weeks so we might as well make it everyone else's problem ENJOY IT TO THE FULLEST!!

[arc-misadventures]

A little context before we begin:

On the RWBY Discord I am a part of (No links) we once again went off on a tangent on how we collectively agree that being in a relationship with, Cannon Blake would be considered a pain because of her past exploits. And why, Fannon Blake is the superior, Blake!

Then a user asked what if, Blake had, Kali's personality.

Then I asked: 'What if they swapped places, and Kali was the, 'B' in Team RWBY instead of, Blake. And, what if, Blake was Kali's mom?'

Others agreed that, that would work, and that she wouldn't have dated, Adam in this AU. Because we don't like, Adam.

He was a sad waste of potential.

When I simply asked the question: "But, what if she married, Adam in this AU?'

And, the response to my question was a simple: "Go on."

Well, here is where I went:

///

RWKY

Kali: I actually don't know who my biological father is.

Jaune: You don't?

Kali: No, I'm a cat faunas, and my mom is a cat faunas. But, Adam, that's my 'stepfather,' he's a cow faunas. If he really was may father, I'd be a... Well, I don't know what kind of faunas I'd be. So, I know he's certainly not my bio-dad. Whoever they are, or were... they have to be a cat, since I'm a cat, and my mom is a cat. So it makes me wonder… Am I the result of a drunken one night stand, and my mother married, Adam to cover it up, or did, Adam, and my mother kill my real father, and covered it up!

Jaune: You think your mom may have killed your real dad?!

Kali: You'd believe it too if you met my mom.

Jaune: That's not a comforting thought. But, could he have been human?

Kali: A human? I never thought of that.

Jaune: And, what if the reason your mom hates humans is because he ran away when he found out she was pregnant with you! O-Or, what if; the reason you never knew your father is because, Adam killed him after he knocked your mom up! Or, what if they know who your father actually is, and they can't say who it is because it would be such a huge scandal if the truth came out!

Jaune: (GASP!)

Jaune: What if you are the secret love child of, Blake Belladonna, and Jacques Schnee, and you're actually, Weiss's long lost half sister?!!!

Kali: (GASP!)

Weiss: (GASP!)

Kali: HRKK?!

Weiss: HRK?!

WK: BLAAAAARGHHH!!!

Jaune: Oh gods…

Kali: Oh gods! I didn't throw up because of you, Weiss! I'm totally okay with you as my little sister!

Weiss: Same her!

Kali: It's just… the thought of, my mom sleeping with him... it's just so disgusting!

Weiss: I get that! I find the thought of him sleeping with my mom to be just as disgusting too!

Jaune: Uhhh... You guys, okay?

Kali: I'm fine.

Weiss: Me too, the idea was just... so out of left field! It caught me completely off guard.

Kali: Good thing it's not real, cause that would be... disturbing.

Weiss: Good thing it's just a mad conspiracy theory!

Kali: It's total speculation!

Weiss: A throw away comment!

Kali: Just ones of those thoughts!

Weiss: Totally irrelevant!

Kali: Haa…

Weiss: Haha…

Jaune: …

Jaune: You two totally want to get a DNA test now, don't you?

Weiss: Absolutely!

Kali: Let's go!

[darkbluekies]

This is going to be interesting fr, like how much differently do your ocs treat the reader if they were childhood friends. I’m super excited! Also can’t wait to see Jerry again ❤️

Warnings: violence, murder, unstable home life, bullying

Silas:

Being Silas's childhood friend guarantees you a bodyguard. He doesn't let anyone get close to you. You don't ever have to worry about the fact that anyone will bully you, because Silas will obliviate them. He's the type to let you lean on his shoulder in class whenever you feel tired. He will ditch school with you and go to the zoo if you want to.

People around you will try to separate the two of you. “Silas isn't a good influence”, they say, and doesn't want his behavioral problems to rub off on you, or for you to get in danger. There are speculations that Silas is involved in criminal gangs — and if someone asks you, you won't deny it. But Silas won't let anyone take you from him, won't let anyone touch you. You always have his arm wrapped around your waist or shoulders, always claimed by him.

“I'm going to bash that kid's skull in, I'm not fucking joking. If they dare to to touch you — no — if he as much as breathe near you, I'll send them to the nurses office. Lean your head on me, Y/N, its okay. Does your hand still hurt? I cant believe that he fucking stepped on it. It doesn't matter if it was a mistake. I'll cut his off.”

Dr Kry:

There is something off about him, and everyone can see that. He sits back straight, hands together, and always in clean, ironed clothes. His hair is always brushed and fixed, he hates germs and people. And he hates it all, he really does. The only friend he has, is you. The only one he doesn't think is dirty, is you. You know that the reason he sits and talks like a robot is because of how strict his parents are. There has been multiple times where he has dirtied his clothes while playing with you, and has panicked. You help him clean them before going home, and when touching him you make sure to wipe your hands with a cloth — even if you know that he doesn't mind your germs. You know how he doesn't like to be touched, so you never hug him or linger on too long, which is just why Kry likes you so much.

You are the only one who knows about his author's dreams. His parents want him to become a doctor, or a lawyer, and you know he's interested in medicine, but he wants to be able to write. He wants to write sci-fi stories, and you are the only one that knows it.

You get teased by others for being with the “clean freak” but it doesn't bother you. However, it does bother Kry. After someone has been mean to you, they always end up in the hospital, one way or another. You can't help but wonder if it's your shy, sweet friend who's behind it.

“I like having picnics with you. Oh, you forgot the other fork? No, don't apologize, I understand that it was a mistake. We can share a fork, I'm okay. Yes, it's fine, I don't mind ��� you're so nice, wiping the fork for me, you don't have to do that ...”

King Edmund:

If you are Edmund’s friend while he's the crown prince, you need a lot of patience. He is spoiled rotten, entitled and unpleasant to be around. Everything is on his terms. But that doesn't mean that he doesn't value you. He is locked in his room day in and day out with a private tutor, completely isolated from everyone else. He will throw fits and threaten not to do his classes, unless he is allowed to play with you. So, they bring you to the castle where you get to live from now on.

Edmund absolutely loves to spend time with you. You ride horses together, torment the staff, play pranks and read. When he can't sleep, he walks into your room and crawls under the sheets.

You're with him when his parents are murdered. Edmund's first instinct when the castle is attacked is to run to your room, wake you up and hide the two of you. He is equipped with a sword and will protect you to the last moments.

Although the two of you are isolated, there are people in the staff making fun of you, or talking bad. Edmund doesn't even hide the fact that he orders for their deaths.

“I fucking hate classes, and I hate that tutor. It's so boring. I wish you could take the classes with me, it'd be so much more fun. After class, can't we do something? Can't we go down to the fountain and read? I want you to read for me. You're the only one that reads the story right, that does them justice. Everyone else sounds like fucking donkeys.”

Jerry:

Jerry goes to an all girls school in South Korea. You don't go to the same school — which is probably for the best. Jerry is the leader of her little gang, and they are notorious for their bullying. She is a bully for fun, but won't allow any of her friends to make fun of you. If they do, she will ruin their lives. You do know about her life outside the school though, you have been with her when she steals from stores (often makeup stores). You often meet her after school and go to the mall or amusement parks together. She's a very sweet person to be around when it's just the two of you.

You're friends with her before she starts to call herself ‘Jerry’ — when she's still ‘Yubin’. She had seen the name in a TV series and liked the character. She says that she is going to move to the US, and then she wanted an english name.

You're often with Jerry's friend group on weekend nights, often strolling around the town with alcohol and cigarettes, sometimes breaking stuff. Jerry makes sure that if they're ever caught, her and you slip away. She finds it all extremely exciting.

Jerry escapes to you when she gets to know that her parents (and perhaps sister if i want to give her one) have been murdered by a rival, when she has involved herself in criminal activities for real. It's the first time you get to see Jerry break down. She's in your arms, crying heavily, admitting how scared she is and how much she misses her parents. She loves her family, and now there is nothing left of it. She says that she died that day, and that whoever is inhabiting her body now is a fraction of who she once was.

“You're such a fresh wind from that fucking girl school. Why do I have to go there? Why am I not allowed to join a coed school? What? Why my nails have blood under them? No, I didn't get into a fight again. I didn't. I promise. Get up, let's go get sushi, I'm starving.”

Hedwig:

If you're a childhood friend of Hedwig, you're basically a family member. You go on her family's expensive vacations, just because Hedwig doesn't want to be alone.

You play every day and go through all stages of life together. Hedwig has always been the sweetest human you've ever known, and it surprises you when you see her angry. The many, many years you've been friends, you've only seen her angry a handful of times. You go to summer camps together, share beds, share everything. Teachers ask for the other when one is gone (which is rare).

Being childhood friends with Hedwig would most likely end in romance at one time, so she would win without having to do anything harsh. But if you started developing crushes other than Hedwig before, she would ruin their reputation until you wouldn't want to look at them anymore, but no one would know that it was Hedwig.

Hedwig has always been very popular, both for her money and looks, and by default, you've been too because you're her best friend. Hedwig likes to see how nice everyone is to you, because they know better than to upset you. No one wants to get out of the magical bubble that is Hedwig’s popularity.

“We will be friends forever, won't we? I don't think I could live without you, Y/N. You're the other half of my soul. If I don't have you nearby, I can't breathe.”

[ferrstappen]

max, don't panic l Max Verstappen blurb

a/n: he'd absolutely stop his car bc 1) what's a couple of points for this man? he's going to gain them back while sleeping; 2) this man PROTECTS you cannot tell me otherwise.

also, pls if anyone knows how to turn this blog (sideblog) into the main? my main is full of Shawn Mendes fics and on a permanent hiatus so I'll take any advice pls. anyway... I tried my best bc for some reason driver!reader is not my fav trope? but anyway, hope you enjoy <3

genre: kinda dramatic? angst? idk. request is here.

warnings: car crash.

pairing: Max Verstappen x driver!reader.

max, don´t panic – max verstappen blurb

The private but not secret applied to you and your boyfriend perfectly. Even if you didn't walk around hand I hand in the paddock, you always arrived together, bright smiles, sometimes riding the same car or blinded SUV, even arriving on the same planes.

This wouldn't be exactly controversial, but giving the fact you both were Formula 1 drivers, Max for Red Bull and you for Ferrari, yeah, it was a big thing. Especially since you and another driver in Williams were the only girls, people's eyes were always on you, obviously laced with criticism, sexism and misogyny, and of course everyone was waiting and constantly asking about which driver was the most handsome, if something had happened between you or any of the male drivers.

It wasn't pretty.

So Charles Leclerc had to miss a triple header due to an injury which costed him a surgery, you were briefly promoted to the Scuderia from Haas. The only thing you or anyone in the garage heard during the last few days was why you, why not Ferrari's own reserve driver? why not a driver with more experience? of course the lacing question was, why not a male driver?

You didn't need the press and public to keep speculating as your last Sunday driving for Ferrari arrived, even if sports sites stated the only reason you were chosen was because of your "especial friendship" with Max Verstappen, because it didn't make any sense otherwise. Of course Max rolled his eyes every time he heard something about it, forcing to bit his tongue to tell someone to fuck off, the fact you had been dating for now nine months had absolutely nothing of your job and performance.

It wouldn't help your case very much, having to calm him down on your shared hotel room. Well, it wasn't exactly shared, you just left you room vacant and made it to Max's to spend the night, sleeping in his warm embrace and messy kisses, trying to not exhaust your bodies in order to not be overly tired during race day.

Now, Sunday. Oh boy.

Before pulling your helmet, you found Max's eyes across the garage, doing a small sign with your fingers which Max matched, a secret language reserved for the both of you, expressing your love and preoccupation in front of everyone who was oblivious to the love language displayed in plain sight.

Then the race started and it was ordinary; good weather, good pace. But during lap twenty something happened.

You didn't really register when an Aston Martin car made contact with your rear wing, making you lose control and also getting hit by a Mercedes on the left side, which sent you flying through the gravel.

Fuck.

Your eyes closed as you felt the car spinning, waiting to make contact with the wall, trying to relax your body and mind, knowing injuries would be even more serious after the impact if her body was limp enough. Then it happened, you stopped rolling, the sound of gravel and tires stopped; radio wasn't working, though it wouldn't really work since you couldn't find your voice.

Max was on other sector, Gianpiero telling him to expect a red flag. At the same time, his eyes fixed on the screen and noticed the unmistakable red car flying and crashing.

Max was a man prepared for anything on the race track. Seriously, you could throw anything at him and Max would remain calm and collected, his body and mind not having to even think before making a move.

But this... this he wasn't prepared for.

"Which Ferrari was that?" Max asked through the radio, voice masking a slight panic.

"I don't have that information, yet. I'll let you know, now focus on slowing down, please, red flag red flag,"

"Is the driver okay?" Max completely ignored the other instructions given to him.

"No word, Max. Please," GP was cut off.

"Please tell me who's Ferrari is it!"

"Sainz was on the pit, it's (Y/N)'s Ferrari. Max, you can't speed up,"

Max ignored him. Of course, he knew better than to get in the way of the safety car and medical cars rushing, also noticing a green figure trying to get closer to the car, also noting a Mercedes and Aston with damages.

"Max, come to the pit, please," GP had many many experiences dealing with Max, but this was new. "Max, you are not going to help, you will only obstruct and put the car and yourself in danger,"

Max was covered in chills, watching the wrecked Ferrari, trapped against the wall, no movement.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is completely unheard of. This is by far the worst accident during this season, but Red bull's Max Verstappen drove his car towards the crash, ignoring the red flag and his engineer. We don't now what's going on, how is the driver, as you can see it's a mess," That's what the audience was hearing and watching.

Ignoring everything, Max prompted himself up, leaving the car and reaching the medical car, trying to get someone to connect him to the Ferrari radio, knowing her radio was probably dead.

Time stopped, and then he saw you being carried, barely conscious but giving a thumbs up, and he felt like he could collapse and cry and laugh, all at the same time.

"I'm riding with her," Max stepped inside the ambulance, knowing pictures were being captured and broadcasted of him kissing your temple and holding your hand.

[rozaceous]

tcba epilogue: sasumari snippet

this was the main bulk of the epilogue, written even before i posted tcba on ao3. that is how old. ergo, some grain of salt w details pls as it is a v rough draft and some things would have to change for continuity or whatever, but this is the thing it all was angling for. sasumari qpr confirmed.

Watching Sasuke handle the freshly-changed newborn with such intense gentleness while she scrubs off her hands with a shake of chakra, Mariko is bludgeoned with the realization that Sasuke likes babies, and that a sense of responsibility hasn't been his sole driving motivation. And while she reels dizzily from that revelation, she thinks, We can have babies.

And then Mariko stops thinking for a while because that was one too many revelations for it not even being dawn yet.

She has no idea what they think they're doing in the first place. The two of them coming across a raided village with a dying pregnant woman that Mariko hadn't been able to save, and then deciding that they couldn't just leave an infant in a smoking village to die, and then not trusting that the girl wouldn't just meet the same fate the next town over had turned into Mariko manipulating her own hormones to be able to nurse a two day-old baby. And here they are, nearly two weeks out, traveling with a baby in between destabilizing hidden villages and international economies and dodging mercenaries, and she's realizing that the truth of it is that neither of them is gutsy enough to say that they don't think they're giving her up besides all of that. Instead, they've been politely not talking about just such a thing so that they can maintain their fiction of being ruthless shinobi instead of a pair of dysfunctional nineteen year-olds who randomly adopt a baby together despite leading desperately dangerous lives.

God and her boobs hurt. Breast-feeding is no joke; her nipples are chapped and her boobs are sore from going from zero to nursing in the span of thirty-six hours. Her entire upper torso hurts, actually, from having to accommodate the abrupt change in her weight, and the hormonal shift means that she's breaking out for the first time in her life because she's too busy maintaining the hormones and keeping a newborn alive and happy besides her usual maintenance of the Sharingan to have focus to spare to use medical chakra to get rid of her acne.

At least she hasn't actually given birth, because Mariko isn't sure she would be even moderately functional if that were the case.

But instead of pondering any of that mess too deeply, she lets Sasuke bundle the baby up to sleep with him and passes the fuck out. Shun has watch, it's fine.

She doesn't say anything in the morning, either. She feeds the baby, feeling all sorts of soft and sappy and not entirely sure that it's entirely hormonal, because when she looks up, Sasuke is staring at her from across the campsite, staring at them, and to anyone else his expression might be unreadable, but to her all she sees is naked want.

And fine, it's only been a week and a half and by civilian standards they aren't even legal adults yet, but Sasuke has never once complained when the baby cried, has taken her for changing numerous times without Mariko asking, does extra chores, and asks to hold her. Granted that last is in his own, 'I'll take her' Sasuke-style verbiage that makes it seem less about him expressly wanting to do so, but Mariko knows him. And Mariko knows that if she were so diametrically opposed to this entire enterprise, she never would have made herself start lactating, and would've foisted the baby off on the first set of reasonably competent-looking parents she could find, that she wouldn't sing to the baby to calm her from her fussing, wouldn't share comments with Sasuke about how small her hands are with one of those hands gripped around her pinky, wouldn't speculate with him what color her eyes would settle as. (Sasuke thinks dark blue, but Mariko thinks black. She says that she has statistics on her side and Sasuke says that he has the power of basic observation on his and is she sure she isn't still colorblind.)

So to see him staring like that doesn't surprise her as such, but it makes her look away because of how naked it makes her feel to look back. And not naked as in, here she is in the middle of a mountainous forest tits-out kind of naked, because if this was about clothes then they've seen each other naked plenty of times, but naked as in, returning his gaze means he knows that she's thought 'we can have babies,' or at least the equivalent of that thought, and having Sasuke know that about her when she's only known that about herself for less than twelve hours is a bit much.

And so yes, it's all less surprising and more very tender feeling, like a spot that's liable to bruise, and Mariko is just enough of a coward to not to want to prod at it too much.

Instead she looks down at her baby--

And slams the mental brakes because yep, she's in for it now, she's really done it, there's no going back, the river has been crossed. Ha. Ha ha.

Well. No more fooling herself.

She looks back at Sasuke, who's still watching them, makes a sort of tilt of her head that means come here, and then Sasuke's at her side instead of filleting fish, kneeled on the ground where she's cross-legged.

"She needs a name," is what Mariko says, almost like she's hearing someone else say the words. "We can't just keep calling her anoko or Ko-chan." She pauses, thinks a moment, and says dubiously, "Unless you want to name her Kou. I guess that would be…efficient."

Lazy is more like.

Sasuke's eyes go a bit wide. He looks down at the child in question. "A name, huh?"

---

They return to the base in Sound by the time Yasumi is a month and a half old, and she's snug and hidden in her wrap against Mariko's chest under her kimono top and haori, so they don't draw many strange looks until they're waylaid by Juugo and Karin as they're setting down their packs in their dusty entryway and Mariko has to dodge Karin's hug.

"Uhh," says Karin, confused and apologetic, looking her over more carefully, questing for injuries.

"I'm fine," Mariko says hastily. "It's just--"

As if cued, Yasumi starts to whimper and snuffle.

All four of them freeze, and Mariko tries not to glance sideways at Sasuke like a caught-out preteen.

"Is that…a baby?" says Karin cautiously.

"Maybe," says Mariko, like a dumbass.

Yasumi cries louder. Mariko winces and starts shifting fabric around until she's latched onto a nipple. Juugo only seems to realize he's staring at her naked boob after several long moments of shared speechlessness, and then looks away politely, if wild-eyed.

"I'm pretty sure there's no 'maybe' about that baby," says Karin, sounding a bit faint. "Like, that is definitely a baby sucking on your tit, Mariko."

"I mean, you're not wrong."

Sasuke is determinedly not meeting anyone's eye.

"I'm sure that we didn't leave the two of you alone long enough for this to have happened," Juugo says.

Mariko feels a deep flush cover her face, sees something similar happening along Sasuke's cheekbones and ears. If they weren't in the middle of having to explain a mystery baby, she'd think it was adorable. She's only seen him blush a handful of times in her life.

"Five months is not long enough for a baby," Karin agrees. "So why--how--baby?!"

"We found her," Sasuke says. "Her mother died, the village was basically ash--we couldn't leave her."

"So naturally the best option is to just adopt her," Karin says sarcastically.

Neither Sasuke nor Mariko reply to that.

"Oh my god!" Karin bursts out. "Seriously?! You found some strange baby and decided to just keep her?!"

Juugo closes the front door.

"You two are some of the most wanted people on the entire Continent! The bounties on your heads are worth a small country! And you just randomly adopt a baby?! Are you stupid?! You--I--since when are the two of you even sleeping together?!"

Mariko and Sasuke frown in unison at that, because what does that have to do with it?

"Technically we've slept together since the age of twelve," Sasuke says, surly.

"Oh, don't be--you know what I mean! Whatever, you've been doing the whole bedroll-sharing thing for years, blah blah! I mean, Mariko's had this whole under-the-table booty call thing off and on with Haku, and you two are connected at the hip, but you've never been together." But Karin retracts the finger she's been jabbing in their direction, looking between them with sudden uncertainty. "Right? You weren't--you're not together?"

"We haven't been secretly having sex for the past few years, no," Mariko says dryly. Meanwhile, Yasumi detaches herself from her breast, making soft noises. "Not that it's your business, really."

Karin puffs right back up, bright hair tossing over a shoulder, and hands on her hips. "Well, excuse me, but when you bring back a baby together and are implying that she's yours now--you're basically saying that you're her parents!"

Mariko stiffens, because that's a word that she's successfully avoided thinking, even though she's thought the equivalent of its meaning with quite a bit of depth. But when she looks over to Sasuke, he's just frowning at Karin, apparently confused.

"Who else would I have children with but Mariko?" he asks.

Karin has no reply to that; her jaw is locked open. Juugo has his eyebrows up, but doesn't look like he's had the rug pulled out from under him the way Karin does.

Mariko--Mariko can't say exactly the same as Sasuke, mostly because Sasuke says it like he's never even thought about having children except in the context of 'with Mariko.' And Mariko, in contrast, has thought about having children a lot, because talented kunoichi without bloodlines were considered valuable in a way that meant that there was a lot of semi-public conversation about who she'd make a good match for back in Konoha, as soon as she'd visibly hit puberty. Shinobi placed a lot of stock in--well, in one's stock, and to avoid inbreeding to the point of injury, clans liked to bring in fresh blood that was unlikely to rock the genetic boat. Or, hopefully, improve it. And having graduated in a class full of clan heirs and with bloodline geniuses for peers, while herself having gotten a swift series of promotions and an apprenticeship with one of the village's most notorious shinobi…Mariko had always been considered a hot commodity insofar as the older generation was concerned. Her relationship with Haku had garnered a lot of attention, and the possibility of him marrying into Konoha and having children had been a big reason for it.

So if Mariko's ever thought seriously about having children one day, she'd either thought that it wasn't likely because she was planning a societal revolution and was likely to die before reproducing or just be too damn busy, or she'd thought that she might pop out a kid or two with whomever was most convenient to marry and do her best not to fuck them up irreparably.

Hearing Sasuke essentially say that he wouldn't consider having children with anyone but her is functionally the same as when she'd thought 'we can have lots of babies' in a sleep-deprived stupor: it's a conclusion that she should have arrived at sooner, but is incredible and stunning in how normal it felt when she stopped and really thought about it.

Mariko takes Yasumi out of her wrap and faces her towards Karin.

"She's super cute," Mariko says solemnly. "We named her Yasumi. She sleeps a ton and is ridiculously snuggly. We want you to be her godmother."

She shifts Yasumi into Karin's arms, who takes her seemingly on autopilot with an expression like she's been hit over the head. Mariko doesn't even have to tell her to support her head.

Karin stares at Yasumi like she's never seen a baby before in her life.

"We were going to ask both of you, actually," says Sasuke. "To be godparents."

"Me?" says Juugo, alarmed.

"You," Sasuke confirms.

"Naruto'll be pissed when he finds out," adds Mariko, "but I basically raised that guy and he shouldn't be allowed around small children unattended for at least another decade. Besides the whole political situation thing."

"If it's really that important, he can be a godparent later," Sasuke says dismissively.

Mariko turns to him with narrowed eyes. "Someone's getting ahead of himself."

Sasuke seems to realize what he's said and looks as close as he ever gets to sheepish. "Sorry."

"Mmhm."

"Of course this is what you do," Karin says dully. "We leave the two of you alone for five months and think, 'Oh, well, the plan is already for them to fuck things up, how bad can it get?' and then we get reminded that it's you two and that when left unattended you'll both take down an international human trafficking market and find a stray baby to adopt."

"They weren't necessarily any better when we were there to try to stop them," Juugo says, smiling crookedly as he stands closer to Karin, peering at Yasumi. "I know you remember starting an entire labor movement with the civilian printer's guild in Grass when we were just there to steal a press."

"Just because I remember doesn't mean I want to be reminded," Karin grouses.

Sasuke apparently is satisfied that the situation is more or less resolved and sets about unpacking, dragging their bags just off the kitchen; Mariko follows suit and sweeps her chakra around the hall's surfaces, and then the kitchen's, and collects all the dust into a single great bunny of allergens, opens the kitchen window, and has it hop outside. Sasuke turns to stare at her for that last bit.

"Gross," he informs her.

She just shrugs. She animates dust into literal bunnies--sue her. It's not her fault that not everyone appreciates a good pun.

[dumbkid4ever]

The Allmighty Chameleon Lord K'uhul Ajaw

Ajaw modern hc! In which:

I introduce to you my speculations for what it would be like if Ajaw was in a modern world without vision, dragons and gods, so just our worlds basically. Heads up, he's not human.

- is a chameleon

- Kinich found him on the streets in a dumpster and took him home out of pity. He planned on giving him away but since all animal shelters rejected him and he couldn't exactly just throw him on the street again, the boy just kinda kept him

- way smarter than the normal chameleon due to being experimented on in a lab with poor living conditions

- he can understand human language and even write short words, but for some reason the only words he knows the spelling of are insults. The longest word he can write is "motherfucker"

- he loves fruit juice, especially from cactus fruits

- will steal any food that he gets his hand on and shove down everything that isn't too heavy for him from the table. He enjoys seeing Kinich annoyed, it's basically the only interesting thing in his life

- has learnt to fake separation anxiety, enough to fool the vet, and Kinich for a while, so that the human can bring him outside to see the world

- sits on Kinich's shoulder when they're out of the house and never leaves that position unless Kinich puts him down first or unless he's at a place Kinich passes by often. He knows that if Kinich can't find him easily, he probably won't make too much effort to search for him, no Kinich means no food and comfortable shelter, which is why he always stays close

- changes his color sometimes to express himself, through trial and error Kinich had learnt that yellow means he wants something, to which he will then ask simple yes no questions and Ajaw will answer in either red, which means no, blue, which means yes, or purple, meaning wrong but he's on the right track

- for example: Ajaw turns yellow while Kinich is working night shift.

"Cactus juice again?" Red. "Is it cold? Do you want your blanket?" Purple. "Either cold or blanket... You want to go to sleep?" Blue. "Alright then, go to sleep, but you won't be in your bed until I'm done here." That wasn't the answer Ajaw wanted, so he turned to his normal green and slaps Kinich with his tongue repeatedly. "Ugh- hey! If you don't stop I'll put you in timeout, would you prefer that?" The chameleon turned red again and the tongue assault stops. "That's what I thought, be patient and wait until we're home."

- yeah Kinich always brings a little blanket with him in case he doesn't go home until it's late, which means it would get cold, too cold for the chameleon's comfort

- when Ajaw gets too annoying Kinich puts him in a sack, not unfamiliar to the mora bags we get as quest items, that he always carries in his pocket, the chameleon has learnt to associate the word time out with an undetermined time frame of darkness after a year and roughly knows how far he can go before he's put into the bag

- Kinich had made him a little bed on his night stand because Ajaw caused a ruckus every time he's put into a cage for the night (or just in general because of trauma from the lab) either by making chameleon noises or slamming himself against the cage multiple times

- of all of Kinich's friends (Mualani, Kachina and the traveler twins) he likes Kachina the most, because she always has snacks for him

- when Kachina is present, he'll be sitting on her shoulders more often than not

- Kinich had tried to give Ajaw over to Kachina before but her parents didn't allow her to have him as a pet, since they already have dogs at home (modern tepetlisaurus), which might be dangerous for Ajaw

- of all of Kinich's friends he likes Mualani the least because she keeps catching whatever he throws to the ground and she always finds a way to make Kinich less annoyed. Well, Kachina does the latter too but she gets a pass because she gives him snacks

I may do a modern human au next, hmu if you're interested. Until next time and have a good day.

Modern human au is out

[lemoncrushh]

Easy Like Sunday Morning

Summary: It's your last day with Harry before he leaves.

Warnings: Light mentions of sex. A little angst because you're sad.

Word Count: 1523

A/N: A short little fluffy one shot written in 2017, inspired by the Commodores song Easy. This was originally in first person, but since there was no OC named, I have edited it to be a reader fic. There's no precise reason given why Harry is leaving (tour? movie? recording?), so you can make that up yourself.

The sun hadn't risen yet. The bedroom was still dark except for a tiny bit of moonlight that shone through the tree branches outside your window, casting an eerie shadow on the opposite wall. You watched as the shadow moved back and forth, silently telling you a story. A story that although you knew was a true one, you liked to pretend was fiction.

He was leaving tomorrow.

One more day. That was all you had left with him until...well you didn't know for sure. And you didn't think you wanted to.

You listened to his breathing behind you as you continued to stare at the wall, part of you wishing he would wake up so that you may selfishly have more time with him. A tear trickled from the corner of your eye just as he seemed to somehow hear your silent request and wrapped his arm around your middle to pull you closer. You sighed and wiped the tear, allowing your body to fit into his like a spoon. He groaned low and kissed you just behind your ear. Seconds later you could hear his breaths even out and you knew he was asleep once again. You wondered if he had even awoken at all, or if his gesture was purely automatic.

It didn't matter though. You were his, and he was yours, if only for a little while.

He'd told you he loved you that night. It had been in a moment of passion, and as one tends to speculate the truth behind such confessions, you certainly had. Not to mention he was who he was and could have anybody he wanted. Why would he choose to fall in love with you?

As you pondered this question and more, you felt him move again, rustling the sheets until finally settling his leg between yours. You couldn't help but smile as his lips found your shoulder, and he left a trail of kisses up to your neck.

"Good morning," you whispered, covering his hand that rested on your stomach with your own.

"Morning," he echoed, his voice an octave lower than usual. How you loved his morning voice.

He continued to dot your skin with kisses until you felt his breath tickle your ear.

"Baby?"

"Hmm?" you sounded.

"Even though I'm not fully awake yet, I want you to know..." he paused to swallow. "I meant what I said last night."

You blinked hard before shifting onto your back, releasing yourself from his hold. You looked at his face, and though it was still dark and a shadow cast over most of his features, you could tell his eyelids were heavy, his perfect lips swollen from sleep.

"What was that?" you asked softly, pretending not to know.

His mouth curved up into an easy grin then as he gently touched your face, pushing your hair back with his fingers.

"That I love you," he declared.

You mimicked his smile, raising your own hand to lightly brush your fingers across his chin.

"You do?"

"Yes. It's...it's not just something I say...in the heat of the moment."

You rolled onto your side then, your lips nearly touching.

"I only say it when I mean it," he continued. "When I feel it. I've fallen in love with you and-"

His words were cut short when you crashed your mouth into his, your fingers tangled in the hair on the back of his head.

"I love you, too," you breathed against his lips.

He moaned when you gave him your tongue, allowing you to explore his mouth before he sensually began sucking on it. Your toes curled and you threw your leg over his, needing to feel him against you as much as possible. As you felt his erection between you, you let out a whine.

"I need you again, Harry. Please. Before you leave me."

"Shh, don't say that," he whispered. "I'm not leaving you. I'm coming back."

"Promise?"

"Of course."

He pushed into you before you could protest, making you bite your lip. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders while he lifted your leg to get a better aim. He drove into you deeply, just like the night before. And just like the night before, you held on for dear life. Only this time you weren’t afraid to fall. You’d already fallen, and he'd fallen with you.

When you were lying in each other's arms afterwards, completely spent, you noticed the sunshine streaming through the window. This time the shadow on the wall was not eerie or casting a sad or gloomy story. It looked promising, hopeful.

"What shall we do today, love?" asked Harry, breaking you from your musing.

You beamed at him, loving the melodic sound of his voice.

"I don't know, what'd you have in mind?"

"Well..." he said, propping himself on his elbow. "We have the whole day."

"Yeah."

"I say we do nothing."

You chuckled. "Nothing?"

"Yeah. Just stay here in bed. Maybe put on some music. Have some food. Watch a movie. Make love some more. Maybe even take a nap."

"I'd hardly say that's nothing," you smirked.

"Well, I mean...if you wanna get up and go somewhere..."

Laughing harder, you pulled him to you, planting a kiss on his lips.

"Sounds perfect, actually," you murmured.

By noon, after breakfast in bed (which Harry had insisted on making himself while you rested) and more amazing sex, you found yourself in a moment of complete bliss. The sun shone brightly through your window, but you knew that was not the source of light that made your heart glow from within. It was the man beside you. The man who'd confessed his love to you.

He was leaving tomorrow.

You tried not to think about it. Harry hadn't brought it up again, and you'd decided not to mention it either. You wanted to revel in the joy as much and for as long as you could.

At one point it seemed Harry got a little restless and decided to pick up your guitar from across the room which was certainly fine with you. He sat on the edge of the bed and serenaded you for a while. After finishing a classic 70s tune, he looked at you, an expression you couldn't quite read.

"What?" you finally asked, curious to know what was going on in that gorgeous head of his.

He merely shrugged. "Just love you."

You smiled as he set the guitar down and crawled over to you and kissed you as though he hadn't already been doing that all day.

After lunch you opted for a movie, deciding on Casablanca. You kept your composure at the end, the rational side of you understanding Ingrid Bergman's leaving on the plane, though deep down you knew the romantic side of you thought she was an idiot.

That evening, just after a long nap and the best cup of tea you'd ever had in your life, you finally decided to get up. You stood side by side in the kitchen as he chopped tomatoes and you sautéed the mushrooms to prepare for your dinner. You had the radio on, and you smiled as you listened to Harry singing along.

Girl, I'm leaving you tomorrow...

A tear fell from your eye before you could catch it. Your shoulders shook and you felt your throat close, and you tried desperately not to let your emotions show. But Harry noticed. Dropping the knife, he came up behind you and put his arms around your waist.

"I love you," he reassured you in a whisper. "I love you so much."

You trembled against him, trying to wipe the tears before they fell.

"It's gonna be okay," he added.

"Is it? Is it really? This already hurts so bad and you're not even gone yet."

"Hey. Look at me," he urged.

Abandoning the mushrooms, you turned around, your eyes glistening. He took your face in his hands, wiping away the tears with his thumbs.

"I know this isn't gonna be easy," he said. "But it doesn't have to be that difficult either. We already know we love each other, yeah?"

You nodded.

"Then we're already doing great. I promised I'll come back, and I meant it. You trust me, don't you?"

"Always," you replied.

"We'll just have to deal with the long distance thing a little while. But we'll talk all the time. It'll be okay. Okay?"

You nodded once more, wondering how on earth you'd gotten so lucky to have this man fall in love with you. He kissed you tenderly on the lips before placing another soft kiss on your forehead.

"Don't burn the mushrooms," he teased and you poked him in the side.

That's why I'm easy, easy like Sunday morning...

"This song is misleading anyway," Harry commented.

"How's that?" you asked as you stirred.

"It sounds like a love song. But he's singing about wanting to be free." Harry looked at you. "That's not me."

You raised a brow. "You don't wanna be free?"

"Not when I can be in love," he answered. "It's way better."

If you enjoyed, please like, comment, reblog or send me a msg!

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

Of Truths and Dreams; Lilia Vanrouge

Dreams can tell a lot about a person. Their wants, their fears. But sometimes they can tell you the truth, and sometimes it isn't pretty.

Supporting Characters; Baul (for a second), Sebek Zigvolt

Content; Soulmate AU (I call them soul matches), gender neutral reader, can be read as familial, platonic, or romantic, Chapter 7 spoilers, hurt/comfort, some General Vanrouge

Content Warning; Chapter 7 spoilers, war, death (talk, I don't describe it), angst? (idk man)

Word Count; 5.5 K

Don't put my works into AI, as AI steals in order to "create".

Sebek's Story | Malleus's Story

The Thorn Fairy had gifted a blessing to the fae, a blessing of soul matches. 

A connection forged between two souls. Such a connection is rare, and different variations do occur; primarily in beastmen and merfolk. Each clan had their unique soul match bonds. And the fae were no different. However, their history was not written down on paper, or carved into the corals. The information and history of fae soul matches was an oral history, passed down from generation to generation through hushed tones. 

To outsiders, they shrugged it off as just another odd behaviour of the clan, but the fae had good reason to be wary. In the past, the knowledge of fae soul matches was shared with an outsider, and because of that blunder of misplaced trust, the royal family was targeted. But that was many a queen’s reign ago. But the fae do not forget such transgressions, no; that story, that history, is used as a warning. Tell no one but whom you would trust your life with any information regarding your soul match, lest it be used against you. No one outside of the fae, save for their soul match, is to know of this most treasured bond.

Despite the secretiveness of fae soul matches, they were celebrated once they manifested themselves, as they were a blessing from the Thorn Fairy herself. There is a catch though; due to their long life spans, it can take years, decades, or even centuries in the very rare and unfortunate cases, for the bond between soul match partners to manifest itself. The only thing more unfortunate than it taking centuries is if their soul match were human… for a human lifespan is only a fraction that of even the more short-lived fae clans. It was seen as a tragedy, a doomed pairing from the beginning, with a heartbroken fae as the only possible answer. Such pairings were pitied, and seen as bad luck.

But what does the bond between soul matches take the form of within the fae? What does the Thorn Fairy’s blessing of soul matches look like?

There are many speculations on that. Many scholars say it is a mark on the body; a mole, or three scratches. But that is not correct. It is not a shared song, a stone messenger, or a coloured thread on their finger. And there is a written record of the bond as well; one just has to dig deep into the records, scrolls, and tomes that exist within the library of the former castle of the Draconia’s.

It is also a melody, a hum on the lips of many fae if by chance you are able to hear it. I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream. The soul match bonds between the fae and their match took the form of shared dreams, tinted the colour of their soul. They cannot truly see the other, or speak to each other, but the gleam in their eyes is one that will stay in their mind, as it is so familiar a gleam. 

…

…

…

Rest is a luxury, a luxury that Lilia could not spare. The war would not wait for the general to be well rested, or wait for him to have a nap. No, it would continue until it either ended with one side coming out the victor, or it would end with peace negotiations. Rest can wait. But the fae in his company were sleeping, and he was on the first watch.

But there was something else which made him avoid resting; his dreams. His dreams were black and white, devoid of any colour, and he was always alone in them. Yes, there may be other people, but they didn’t interact. His soul match was nowhere to be seen. Three hundred years and there has been absolutely nothing.

He wasn’t alone on watch duty though, Baul was beside him, staring out into the dark. 

“You need to rest,” he huffed, shooting a look towards Lilia from the corner of his eye. 

Lilia quirked a brow, but his gaze did not waver from the darkness of the forest. There was something out there, waiting. “I can rest when this is over.” His voice was cold, sharp, like that of a blade. “I cannot rest while a war is still being fought on our lands.”

Baul pushed his shoulders back and turned his eyes back to the darkness of the forest. “General, if you do not rest, it will eventually catch up to you. Whether you like it or not.” 

He was right, if Lilia did sleep, it would eventually catch up with him in the worst possible moment. The last thing that he needed was to fall into a microsleep in the middle of battle. Thirty seconds of vulnerability in the heat of conflict could spell the very end for him. He let out a tired sigh, “I suppose you are right. When our shift is over I can rest.”

After an uneventful night watch, save for the crack of a stick in the distance — which turned out to be nothing more than just a deer passing through — Lilia turned in for the night in his tent. He stared up to the ceiling, and tried to fall asleep, but the harder he tried the more difficult it became, but eventually exhaustion won over frustration and Lilia fell asleep.

His dream was black and white, as always. They have been devoid of colour for the past three hundred years, so why would they be any different now?

He was a child again, playing in a flower meadow with Malenoa and Levan. Well, Malenoa was playing whereas Levan had been dragged along against his will. And Lilia? Well, wherever the crown princess went, he followed; part of it being that they were friends, the other being that he was raised alongside her and swore to protect her.

“Lilia! Come on,” Malenoa shouted from across the glen, a big smile on her face. “Last one to the thicket is a rotten egg!” And she took off, dragging Levan behind her, the young boy letting out an undignified squawk.

Lilia gave chase, a peel of laughter escaping his lips. “That’s not fair! You got a head’s start!” He eventually caught up to the two royals at the large rose thicket on the outskirts of the meadow. “I guess I’m the rotten egg,” he huffed before sitting down next to a dishevelled looking Levan.

He didn’t really understand why the Thorn Fairy had bonded them together, Malenoa and Levan couldn’t be more opposite of each other. But soul matches do work in mysterious ways… But Lilia wondered when the Thorn Fairy would place that blessing onto him. He had spent, and would spend, his life serving the royal family after the queen had taken him in, so why didn’t the first of the royal bloodline deem him worthy?

Malenoa was looking at the roses until she found one that she liked. She plucked it from the stem, whispered a quiet thank you to the briar patch, and then placed it behind Lilia’s ear. A baby pink rose, but he could not see the colour of the flower, only that it was pale. A stark contrast against Lilia’s jet black hair.

“What’s that for,” he asked but did not dare remove the flower. He should have been used to Malenoa’s antics by now, but she still caught him off guard despite their time spent together.

Malenoa hummed, “Pink suits you, plus since you were the rotten egg, you stunk so badly that you needed the rose to cover up the smell.” She stuck out her tongue and pinched her nose with her fingers, giggling. “A stinky, stinky egg! Right, Levan?”

Levan looked tired, but he nodded his head. “Unfortunately it seems so.” He coughed, trying to cover up the chortle that nearly escaped his lips.

The easy nature of the dream shifted, the briars from the rose thicket separating Lilia from Malenoa and Levan. The thicket then caught on fire, smoking out the dream (the memory?) in a thick, dark, smoke.

Lilia woke with a start, and placed his hand over his heart. It was beating fast, and he was covered in sweat. He then heard a commotion coming from outside, and it wasn’t the usual squabbling he heard as people tried to barter over the best breakfast options.

He strided out into the camp, and he didn’t make it very far until one of the soldiers came clamouring over to him, tripping over their feet in the process.

“G-general!” They heaved, looking pale. “N-news! From the front lines!” They handed him a scroll before taking back off to their tent.

Lilia opened the scroll and his eyes froze, pupils contracting into harsh slits. The parchment crumpled in his tight fist, but he regained his composure. They had a war to end, but Lilia’s mission had shifted from that of victory for country. It had shifted to justice; to serve justice to the murders of Malenoa. For his friend, his family, for Levan, and for her unhatched egg; the hope, and now only future, for the Draconias.

…

…

…

Another four hundred years had passed, and Lilia’s dreams were still black and white. And where he may have had been bitter in his younger years, he no longer held that resentment. Yes, he still questioned why he had not received a soul match, but he had accepted that it was simply not to be. Besides, he now had more meaning in his life. He had been many things in his life; a friend, a soldier, an advisor, and now, a father. The silver haired baby that he had found years ago, Silver, was everything Lilia could ever really ask for. He loved Malleus, but not to the same degree as Silver; Malleus was the heir to the throne above all else.

Lilia was content with how things currently were, happy even. He had found his purpose.

“Hmm, this school year should prove interesting,” he hummed to himself. The ceremony was today, and it proved to be a most interesting one at that. He did wonder what the newcomer, the one not suitable to any dorm, would do. They didn’t seem like the type to just leave things alone. He shook his head though, and made himself comfortable in his bed, turning in for the night.

He was in the meadow of his youth again, but it was now overgrown. The vines from the rose thicket choking out all of the other flowers and grasses. And all but one rose was withered away. And this single rose was pink. Lilia could see colour, and the pink bled into the rest of the dream, casting everything in a rose-tinted light. 

After seven hundred years, the Thorn Fairy had finally answered his call. And everything was pink. “After all this time, now you have decided they can enter my life,” he whispered, looking directly at the rose. 

If he were younger, he would have been overjoyed, but Lilia knew that he did not have the commodity of time at his side. Despite the fae’s long lifespan, he was old, and his magic reservoir was running low. And the bitterness that he had since forgotten reappeared. “Why would you put them through this?”

He turned on his heel, but stopped. At the edge of the meadow was his soul match, he could not make out their face, appearance, nor their voice, but he knew it was them. “You should leave.” His words were not spoken, but were instead written in the air in glowing pink letters. But instead of turning around and leaving, they took a step forward, and then another, before coming to rest in front of Lilia.

“Who are you,” their words were written in pink letters, just like his. And even though he could not see their face, he could distinctly tell they wore an expression of confusion. “And why is everything pink?”

Lilia woke up to the sounds of his alarm going off, ripping him out of the dream. Why is everything pink? His soul match didn’t know what the colour ment, which could only mean one thing; his match was not fae. His soul match was mortal. And that revelation made a lump form in his throat.

He was worried about his soul match outliving him, that the possibility that he would outlive them never crossed his mind. Why had the Thorn Fairy chosen them? Why did she gift him an ending that would end in heartbreak?

…

…

Ever since finding yourself in Twisted Wonderland you started keeping a dream journal. Alongside the weird, and sometimes downright disturbing, dreams about future overblots, you had rose-tinted ones with a stranger in them. But they kept their distance. And you hadn’t found any answers for them. 

“Human!” The sharp shout from Sebek tore you away from your thoughts, as the first-year student was incredibly… loud. “Do you know how rude it is to ignore somebody when they are talking?! Did you not sleep last night?!” 

In the few months that you’ve been stuck here, you came to call the abrasive Diasomnia student a reluctant friend. He may be prickly, but it was his own way of showing that he cared… in his own roundabout way which usually involved yelling and non-intentional insults. 

Did you not sleep last night?! Yes, but it was anything but restful.

You were in the midst of a battlefield, which was now long over. The only evidence being the hollow armour of warriors long fallen. And, as in all of your dreams, there were roses everywhere. Their thorny vines creating a wall, trapping you and the pink stranger in together.

This wasn’t your dream, it was their’s… or more like a memory? It was all way too centred in reality, in mourning and loss, to be a dream. What did they live through?

“What happened here?” Your words floated gently in the air and only disappeared when the stranger noticed them.

They picked up a broken spear and held it gently in their grasp. “What do you think? War. War is what happened here.” Their words floated in front of you, and you could see the weight of them on their shoulders. “The dreams of many died here, the only thing remaining of them being the armour that was supposed to protect them.”

What the hell have they lived through? “... were you there?” 

The dream shifted, no longer were you standing on a long forgotten battlefield, now reclaimed by nature, but you were now sitting in a dark castle. Not even the pink hue over everything could brighten it.

The stranger went up the stairs. Go away, can you not tell I am not the best person for you? Our story will only end in hurt. But they said none of that, continuing to go up the long winding staircase. “Did you hear me? I asked you if you were there!” You yelled after them, following them up the spiralling staircase until the both of you came to a halt in front of a large wooden door, scorched at the bottom.

“Yes,” the words floated in your face before fading away. “I was there… I led the battle. I led them to death.”

I led them to death. You were sweating buckets, but before you knew what you were doing you wrote down a note in your dream journal

Roses. Thorns. Battle. Magic. War. You had no real idea what it all meant, but it was somewhere to start. A step in the direction of figuring what it all meant

“No,” you said, avoiding Sebek’s concerned gaze, “I didn’t sleep well… not at all.” You hadn’t slept soundly in weeks. You hadn’t had a pleasant dream since you woke up here. “Nightmares,” you whispered, “night after night. And a stranger, the same stranger, who is avoiding me.”

Sebek’s face paled, and he placed his hand on your shoulder. “Human,” his voice was now quiet, guarded. He led you to a classroom and made sure no one was around. “Are these dreams a certain colour? Do words float in the air? Can you not make out their face?” Even though this was the quietest that he has spoken, it was also the most serious Sebek had been with you. 

You nodded your head, “All of that, yes. How did you know?” Your brows pinched, and you let out a deep sigh. “Sebek, if you know something, please, just tell me.”

Sebek was fighting a war in his head; tell the truth to you, or keep the fae soul match a secret. But the dark bags under your eyes told him enough. “You have a soul match, and they are fae. I’m… sorry.”

The bell rang and he was off to his next class, leaving you alone with this world altering information. I have a soul match? They’re fae? … why did he look so sad for me?

…

…

…

Lilia noticed something off about Sebek the moment he walked, or rather stormed, to the confines of his room. So, he followed, gently knocking at the door, waiting for an answer.

“May I come in?”

He heard Sebek scramble up and open the door. “Of course, Lilia-sama!” He was just like his grandfather; loud, a bit too stiff for his own good, but loyal, almost to a fault. 

Lilia walked over to the bed, and patted the spot beside him. “Come, sit. You seem to be carrying quite the burden.” He had noticed Sebek’s odd behaviour all day, and it wasn’t like him to do so. “Come now, out with it.”

Sebek picked at a loose thread on his bedding, and massaged his temple. “It’s about soul matches.”

Lilia felt the lump in his throat form again. “What about them? They are a blessing from the Thorn Fairy herself. Who are we to question her decision-”

“A human disclosed that they have a soul match, a fae soul match. And I told them that. I broke the oath to not tell anyone!” Sebek clenched his fists and looked down at the floor. “They aren’t even my soul match, and I told them!”

Lilia placed his hand on Sebek’s back, and started patting him on the back. A gesture that meant everything was going to be okay. “Well,” a breathy chuckle escaped his lips, a soft smile on his face, “they deserve to know what is ahead of them, do they not?”

Like I have been trying to tell mine, but they still have not left it alone. They keep on showing up, night after night.

Sebek seemed to calm down, but there was still a lot weighing heavy in his mind. “It’s not my place to talk. It is for them, and their match to decide. But,” he took a deep breath, and that familiar intensity in his eyes was back, “I can’t help but worry.”

Lilia recognized the look in his pseudo-adopted son’s eyes, it all too well reflected the look Baul would get before battle. And this was Sebek, concerned for a human, which would only mean one thing; whoever they were, they were a friend of his. And that narrowed everything down. Time to do some sleuthing of my own. “They’re strong, most likely stubborn. They shall be fine,” his voice was light, trying to brighten the atmosphere of the room. “It’s late, you should really get some rest.”

With that, Lilia walked out of the room and softly closed the door. There was something that he needed to do tonight, in his dream.

…

…

This dream was different from all the others. There were no signs of the thorny brambles of roses. There were no signs of war. No, instead Lilia found himself in the courtyard of Night Raven College, the sun high overhead and a slight breeze playing with loose leaves. This wasn’t his dream; it was his soul match’s. And you were sitting under a tree, looking up at the sky, just watching the clouds pass by. 

“This is a nice change of pace,” the pink words drifted slowly in the wind. “Better than nightmares and bad memories.”

Lilia felt a twinge of guilt. Better than nightmares and bad memories. Those were his doing. And instead of him being subjected to your nightmares and memories that you would rather forget, the both of them were here, in a quiet moment in time. There was no war, there was no loss. There was only you and Lilia, and an easy feeling. “You are too kind,” he sighed. Thank you. That is what he meant.

You hummed, “I can’t control my dreams, so it’s really just a fluke.” You sighed and rested your head against the tree, closing your eyes and enjoying the filtered sunlight. “I’m just happy it’s a pleasant one.”

“As am I,” he took a seat next to you and looked up to the sky, watching the clouds aimlessly pass by. I need to tell them. “It is cruel, what the Thorn Fairy has done to you. Gifting you a fae soul match.”

You turned your head towards him. Even though you couldn’t truly see who they were, you could see that they carried a lot on their shoulders. You didn’t say anything though, but instead offered your silence as an indicator for him to continue.

“How much do you know about soul matches?” It is their and their soul match’s decision. He wanted to tell them everything, so that they could decide for themself if they wanted him in their life.

You sighed. So now they decide to tell me? “Pretty much nothin’. Just the basics; soul matches exist, which I can kinda infer what it means, they’re gifted by the Thorn Fairy, and you’re fae. I have found absolutely nothing that even talks about the subject, and nobody but my one friend has mentioned it.”

Nobody but my one friend has mentioned it. Were they friends with Sebek? That would narrow down everything drastically, and would also explain why they were relaxing at Night Raven College in their dream. Lilia knew them. They were already closer than he ever thought. 

“So, please,” you turned to look at the stranger, your soul match, eyes gleaming gently. “Tell me, tell me everything.”

So he did, he and you sat under the tree for the entirety of the dream, discussing what soul matches were, the different forms and bonds they come in, and what you could expect from this. 

I know you, that look in your eye is so familiar a gleam.

…

…

Ever since that dream from a few days ago, you have noticed your soul match get more playful and teasing in your dreams. They no longer held you at a distance, it was a drastic but welcomed change. The cold was gone, and instead there was warmth. But something still felt off. With everything that has happened, with seeing each other's dreams and memories, you still didn’t know who they were. And everytime you tried to tell them your name, the words didn’t form. It was annoying.

“Something on your mind, Prefect,” a familiar teasing voice chuckled from behind you. Lilia shot you a teasing smile, eyes twinkling with mischief. He used to startle you whenever he decided to sneak up on you, but you grew accustomed to his playful nature. 

You shot him a look, but then shook your head and chuckled. “Just thinking is all. What about you?” You had noticed that Lilia had gotten more lively, the dark cloud that seemed to hang around him for the past few weeks had seemed to vanish. “You seem to be in a more chipper mood,” you chuckled.

 He gave you a quiet chortle, the only real evidence of it being the subtle movement of his shoulders and the quiet exhale from his lips. His magenta eyes gleamed softly in the dim lighting of the hallway. They were familiar, but you could have sworn that you had seen them somewhere before, but the answer was avoiding you.

“Just a lot has happened is all, and it brought a surprise with it.” Lilia was cryptic, but it was a part of his odd charm. A mix of something old beyond your years, and a more youthful impishness. It was endearing.

He reminded you of somebody, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on it. “Fine then, old man, keep your secrets. One day I’ll make you spill.”

The two of you exploded with laughter, and Lilia patted you on the shoulder. “Maybe someday. I’ll be looking forward to it, Prefect.” He waved you goodbye as he made his way to his next class. Leaving you alone in the hallway. 

You hummed to yourself as you made your way to your next class, History of Magic, where Trein was preparing on his lecture to tell the first years about the fae-human wars. Something that you had already witnessed the aftermath of, despite not knowing it at the time. After all, that’s what that one dream was about; the one of the meadow, the rose briars, and the rusting armour laying half buried in the earth. But you didn’t know the true horrors of war, and your soul match made sure that you would never have to witness what he had.

…

…

…

You were back in the meadow, in the middle of the fray. No longer were the rusted armours and broken weapons half buried, their wielders were alive again, and you were caught in the middle of it. The sky was an angry shade of pink, and thunder rumbled ominous in the distance… nope that was cannon fire.

Everything was absolute chaos, and you were thankful that nothing could harm you in the dreams, but that didn’t make you flinch any less whenever a ghost arrow flied through the air. Or maybe it would be more accurate to call you the ghost. You weren’t going to dwell on that though, since you didn’t want to push your luck. Something you seemed to be in short supply of.

You saw a flash in front of you, and a bat-masked figure was in front of you, glowing red eyes staring at you, before running back into the battle. Even though this was a dream, you could have sworn that they saw you. And then you were ripped away from the battle ground, being pulled up by your underarms. Looking up you saw the fuzzy and distorted visage of your soul match, pulling you away from danger.

“What were you doing?!” They snapped at you. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but you could infer their tone and emotion from their body language and you know, hauling your ass away from danger.

You patted their forearm, and looked back down to the flashes of magic and metal gleaming in the waning light of the setting sun. “Were you here? This is more than a dream, isn’t it? This is a memory.” 

Dreams are often a flight of fancy, but for Lilia, and for you, they were more than randomly concocted scenarios played out by the sleeping mind. These dreams held truth, the dreams were memories. And this memory showed the most impactful one.

“How many?”

That statement could mean so many things. It could mean how many battles. How many lives were lost. How many lives had he taken. “Too many to count,” is what he decided on saying. It was true though, Lilia had lost count of how many times he had done all of those things. “You must think of me as cruel,” a sad yet harsh laugh left his mouth, and he looked down at you. “A monster.”

You looked back. There was sadness in your match’s eyes, but also a tiredness. “I don’t think you’re a monster, or cruel though.”

Lilia looked into your eyes. You were being honest, sincere, and your eyes showed that. They were the only part of you that he could clearly make out. They were familiar, they were warm. “I am down there though, leading the assault… against the humans.” Against you.

“The past is the past. What is done, is done. We can’t change that.” Leading the assault… didn’t Professor Trein talk about the wars today? “I won’t judge you based on your past, especially if you’re super old which I know pretty well that your are, gramps. But you can’t change it. It has left its scars, but what matters most is the present and what lies ahead.”

You were right, and Lilia felt foolish to let that small part of himself, the insecurity of not being wanted, fester. “I’m the old one? You sound far more wiser than your years… you whippersnapper.”

The battle faded away, and the two of you floated down to the meadow. It had morphed, morphed back into the meadow of Lilia’s youth; filled with wildflowers, grasses, and the rose thicket was in full bloom. And if you listened close enough, you could hear the laughter of a young girl in the breeze as a raven flew overhead.

…

…

Lilia needed to find you. Your dreams were filled with premonitions, and they sat heavy in his mind at the repercussions they could make. They sent off alarm bells in his mind. Lilia was in a tizzy. I have to find them.

His magic was running out, and he knew that his lifespan had shortened drastically. He would be lucky to live another sixty or seventy years, which was nothing in the eyes of many fae. But that was a human lifetime. A lifetime that could be spent with not just Silver and Sebek, but you. He wanted to find you. He didn’t care what form your soul match bond took; be it like the relationship of family, of friends, or of lovers. He wanted to find you, needed to find you.

I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam. Those eyes, they were the only part of you that he could ever make out. Eyes filled with mischief, responsibility, curiosity, and kindness. He knew those eyes. They were your eyes, the Ramshackle Prefect’s eyes. How could I be so blind?

It made all too much sense. The dreams had only started when you showed up. He felt drawn to you, like a moth to flame. It made sense that you would be the human that had made Sebek drop his guard and tell a human about fae soul matches. It made all of the sense in the world. And it had taken until now for him to realise. Perhaps he really was an ‘old man’ and already going senile like you joked, both in and out of the dreams.

That is how he came to find himself at your front door, in the middle of the night, still wearing his hot pink and neon green pyjamas. All because of the one dream, the most recent dream of overblot, and his own realisation of who you truly were. So he knocked three times, and waited for you to come down.

You groaned awake, the faint memory of the dream still weighing heavy on your mind. I can never catch a break, huh? I swear if it’s Ace I’m going to drop kick him. You begrudgingly made your way to the front door, and opened it right as a yawn escaped your mouth. “Lilia?”

What was Lilia doing at your front door? It was like two in the morning… although his bat print pyjamas were pretty great. Was that ‘Bat-tastic’ written in swirly font? Where in Twisted Wonderland had he found that?

“What are you doing here?” Was what you said instead. 

“Do you recognize me,” he whispered, taking your hands in his, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

Recognize you? “Your Lilia, of course I recognize you, old man.”

He looked at you, magenta eyes practically glowing in the dark. Familiar magenta eyes. Eyes that held such familiar a gleam… as if you had seen them countless times in your dreams, tinted a paler shade of the colour. “Prefect, have we met before? I could have sworn that I met you… once upon a dream?”

It all made sense. It all made sense. The coldness at first, the memories of war, the playfulness. Why everything was pink. Your match, the perceived stranger, was no stranger at all. They were Lilia.

“So you’re them,” you said softly. “We’re soul matches?”

He shot you a playful wink, “It would seem so. And I’m happy that you are them, and they, you.”

All of those centuries spent alone, wondering why the Thorn Fairy had not granted him the blessing of having a soul match, and then the confusion of finally receiving one after years of nothing, now had an answer. It was you, and Lilia knew that the seven hundred years may have been lonely, but whatever time he had left, he would be more than happy to spend with you. 

Fin!

Author's Note; Enjoy this word vomit. If you want to read more, do check out my masterlist.

Tags; @xxoomiii @eynnwwyjth @twistwonderlanddevotee @savanaclaw1996 @identity-theft-101

[agapi-kalyptei]

crowdstrike: hot take 1

It's too early in the news cycle to say anything truly smart, but to sum things up, what I know so far:

there was no "hack" or cyberattack or data breach*

a private IT security company called CrowdStrike released a faulty update which practically disabled all its desktop (?) Windows workstations (laptops too, but maybe not servers? not sure)

the cause has been found and a fix is on the way

as it stands now, the fix will have to be manually applied (in person) to each affected workstation (this could mean in practice maybe 5, maybe 30 minutes of work for each affected computer - the number is also unknown, but it very well could be tens (or hundreds) of thousands of computers across thousands of large, multinational enterprises.

(The fix can be applied manually if you have a-bit-more-than-basic knowledge of computers)

Things that are currently safe to assume:

this wasn't a fault of any single individual, but of a process (workflow on the side of CrowdStrike) that didn't detect the fault ahead of time

[most likely] it's not that someone was incompetent or stupid - but we don't have the root cause analysis available yet

deploying bugfixes on Fridays is a bad idea

*The obligatory warning part:

Just because this wasn't a cyberattack, doesn't mean there won't be related security breaches of all kinds in all industries. The chaos, panic, uncertainty, and very soon also exhaustion of people dealing with the fallout of the issue will create a perfect storm for actually malicious actors that will try to exploit any possible vulnerability in companies' vulnerable state.

The analysis / speculation part:

globalization bad lol

OK, more seriously: I have not even heard about CrowdStrike until today, and I'm not a security engineer. I'm a developer with mild to moderate (outsider) understanding of vulnerabilities.

OK some background / basics first

It's very common for companies of any size to have more to protect their digital assets than just an antivirus and a firewall. Large companies (Delta Airlines) can afford to pay other large companies to provide security solutions for them (CrowdStrike). These days, to avoid bad software of any kind - malware - you need a complex suite of software that protects you from all sides:

desktop/laptop: antivirus, firewall, secure DNS, avoiding insecure WiFi, browser exploits, system patches, email scanner, phishing on web, phishing via email, physical access, USB thumb drive, motherboard/BIOS/UEFI vulnerabilities or built-in exploits made by the manufacturers of the Chinese government,

person/phone: phishing via SMS, phishing via calls, iOS/Android OS vulnerabilities, mobile app vulnerabilities, mobile apps that masquerade as useful while harvesting your data, vulnerabilities in things like WhatsApp where a glitched JPG pictures sent to you can expose your data, ...

servers: mostly same as above except they servers have to often deal with millions of requests per day, most of them valid, and at least some of the servers need to be connected to the internet 24/7

CDN and cloud services: fundamentally, an average big company today relies on dozens or hundreds of other big internet companies (AWS / Azure / GCP / Apple / Google) which in turn rely on hundreds of other companies to outsource a lot of tasks (like harvesting your data and sending you marketing emails)

infrastructure - routers... modems... your Alexa is spying on you... i'm tired... etc.

Anyway if you drifted to sleep in the previous paragraph I don't blame you. I'm genuinely just scratching the surface. Cybersecurity is insanely important today, and it's insanely complex too.

The reason why the incident blue-screened the machines is that to avoid malware, a lot of the anti-malware has to run in a more "privileged" mode, meaning they exist very close to the "heart" of Windows (or any other OS - the heart is called kernel). However, on this level, a bug can crash the system a lot more easily. And it did.

OK OK the actual hot lukewarm take finally

I didn't expect to get hit by y2k bug in the middle of 2024, but here we are.

As bad as it was, this only affected a small portion of all computers - in the ballpark of ~0.001% or even 0.0001% - but already caused disruptions to flights and hospitals in a big chunk of the world.

maybe-FAQ:

"Oh but this would be avoided if they weren't using the Crowdwhatever software" - true. However, this kind of mistake is not exclusive to them.

"Haha windows sucks, Linux 4eva" - I mean. Yeah? But no. Conceptually there is nothing that would prevent this from happening on Linux, if only there was anyone actually using it (on desktop).

"But really, Windows should have a better protection" - yes? no? This is a very difficult, technical question, because for kernel drivers the whole point is that 1. you trust them, and 2. they need the super-powerful-unrestrained access to work as intended, and 3. you _need_ them to be blazing fast, so babysitting them from the Windows perspective is counterproductive. It's a technical issue with no easy answers on this level.

"But there was some issue with Microsoft stuff too." - yes, but it's unknown if they are related, and at this point I have not seen any solid info about it.

The point is, in a deeply interconnected world, it's sort of a miracle that this isn't happening more often, and on a wider scale. Both bugfixes and new bugs are deployed every minute to some software somewhere in the world, because we're all in a rush to make money and pay rent and meet deadlines.

Increased monoculture in IT is bad for everyone. Whichever OS, whichever brand, whichever security solution provider - the more popular they are, the better visible their mistakes will be.

As much as it would be fun to make jokes like "CrowdStroke", I'm not even particularly mad at the company (at this point - that might change when I hear about their QA process). And no, I'm not even mad at Windows, as explained in the pseudo-FAQ.

The ultimate hot take? If at all possible, don't rely on anything related to computers. Technical problems are caused by technical solutions.

[1000sunnygo]

Ope ope fruit speculations

so I just found this post:

It's too late to participate in the discussion there, but I want to add a small information that seems to get lost in translation.

Ope ope no Mi's ultimate surgery is "Eternal Youth" (不老), not "Immortality" (不死).

Aren't they used interchangeably? Well, Oda did something curious in Volume 107:

In the magazine edition, Blackbeard asked Law if he (the fruit) could make him both eternally young and immortal - as seen in the left image (不老不死) . IIIRC it was the only time when "Immortality" was added to explain Law's power. But Oda removed the "Immortal" bit in the volume version of the same panel, it was corrected only to eternally young (不老) as previously said during Dressrosa.

Maybe it means Imu isn't unkillable and Law doesn't have to sacrifice himself to reverse the surgery? The "reverse" effect isn't supposed to work in the first place, given Hancock's explanation that her paramecia power is irreversible once the original user dies. It'd be strange if the rule changes from one fruit to another:

Makes me wonder why powers like Hobby-Hobby which keeps the user young don't have the "Eternal Youth" effect. It seems Doffy collected the hobby fruit for a similar research on Eternal Youth, but then learned about its limitations.

How does a natural death occur in One Piece anyway? Is it heavily related to soul rather than one's physical self? A person's soul stays within a body for a specific duration (the natural lifespan), then leaves regardless of the physical condition of the person. If the soul is empowered with revive revive fruit, it can revitalize the body regardless of the corpse's condition (Brook). Since Law is able to swap personalities, it's possible that that Ope ope is able to "operate on" the soul. Eternal Youth surgery could simultaneously sustain a human body and keep the soul trapped within the body forever (which Sugar's fruit can't do), and thus a person gains indefinite lifespan.

I subscribe to the theory that the Elders (who have the ability to immediately heal) had never been humans and their ability isn't the result of ope ope surgery. They could be an extension of Imu's own, unknown devil fruit ability that let him create five puppet figures to run the government. Or they're real demons who would cease to exist once their original summoner (Imu) is killed. Imu, the so-called immortal human, keeps himself safe in a locked room where he cant be harmed, so he can exist forever.

The theory that it's Lili's (eternally young) body Imu is currently residing in makes some sense too, maybe he now has a muse for Vivi and wants to be swapped into her body.

Whichever case it is, Ope ope is definitely involved.

It's possible that a reason the govt allowed Law to become a shichibukai was to regain their access to Ope ope. It'd be ridiculous for the govt to not to collect Law's lineage factor to replicate the 5 billion bounty worth of power. It's very likely that vegapunk was able to replicate the "soul swapping" power of it, so rn Law's original fruit isn't highly sought after as it once was. The govt can still exploit ope ope powers, but they don't need Law to do so.

I don't think they've made his seraphim, it was a long term and expensive project. But how wild it'd be if Doffy's seraphim is revealed to have the Ope ope ability, operating with Law's lineage factor?

I should sleep lol