#that's because i am White Person Pale and my hair is dark and my brows are darker

[possum-quesadilla]

New chapter of Time’s Arrow, “Good luck, babe! You’d have to stop the world just to stop the feeling” is up! Everyone say “thank you, concussion.” (Don’t actually. It sucks.) THIS CHAPTER IS PARTICULARLY ROUGH. PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS CAREFULLY AND PROCEED WITH CAUTION!

As always, here are the extras!

- The lyrics for this chapter’s title are from “Good Luck, Babe!” By Chappell Roan! I think it is pretty self explanatory, haha.

- The songs for this chapter are “A Deer Mistaking Candles for Headlights” by Crywank, “Racehorse: Get Married!” By Jordaan Mason, “bad idea!” By girl in red, “Gross” by Penelope Scott, “maggot belly” by awfultune, “Lavender” by Penelope Scott, “Personal” by Stars, “Little Soldiers” by The Crane Wives, “Butch 4 Butch” by Rio Romeo, and, of course, “Good Luck, Babe!” By Chappell Roan!

- “ “Go! Class starts in…” he leaned away, squinting hard at the clock on the wall just outside the kitchen. “… some.. amount of time.” “… I need to take you to the optometrist.” The teen opened the door and went to step outside, ignoring the demon’s ‘huh?’.” - Beetlejuice’s eyesight suuuuucks. They’ve never been to an eye doctor, or even heard of one. They really need glasses. Perhaps they will get some soon!

- “The very thought of the feeling of food in his mouth, of the savory and salty tastes and mushy textures overwhelming his senses made his stomach turn. But the tug at his non-functional heart strings at the image of Barbara’s disheartened expression was stronger, more painful.” - Not the best motivation to eat, but honestly, any motivation can be good motivation when you’re having trouble getting yourself to eat!

- “Did anyone see you? You barely pass as human, and you’re a stranger in this town. Did anyone bother you? Are you alright?” “Geez, Chuck, when-” “Where have you been?! Do you know how late it is, young man?” - Get parent-ed, idiot!

- “‘Young man’? I am neither of those.” - This is a cheeky reference to a similar joke in “Good Omens”!

- “… English isn’t my best language.” “What others do you know?” “.. let’s put a pin in that convo, D-Dog. Your energy is distracting in the best way.” “Aww, thank you!” - a little peak at Beej and Delia’s friendship. I will probably expand more on it if I ever write the extra chapters!

- “Charles furrowed his brows. “Where did you get that laptop?” ” … “… where did you get that one?” - He stole them.

- “ “The what?” Charles sat up straight, brows knit in… concern? Beetlejuice wasn’t sure.” - he is not used to parental concern! Get cared about, fool!

- “… ‘Surely the average White River townie will be petrified by your demonic beauty!’” He chuckled to himself. He thought perhaps he imagined Barbara, Adam, and Delia laughing as well. “First of all, thank you, you’re too kind.” ” - A little peep at the smug, braggy little guy he used to be! And yes, they did laugh at his joke in agreement. He just doesn’t want to hear it because he can’t accept love.

- “Semi-tamed curly hair, now brown with irritating grey streaks he couldn’t get rid of. Manic honey-brown eyes instead of yellow serpentine ones, blemishes on his face instead of moss. Skin now pink, but still pale.” - yeah, basically just Alex Brightman, just with brown, curly hair. Surprise!

- “…wrist-length black driving gloves to cover his blackened fingertips.” - This, along with a line later on, is heavily inspired by the character Theo from “The Haunting of Hill House”. See if you can spot it! She similarly is very sensitive, and wears gloves to avoid direct physical contact with others.

- “They hate it. Fuck. Maybe next-day delivery holy water is still an option?” - ABSOLUTELY NOT

- “They look like a substitute teacher.” - Dewey Finn reference! I see a lot of Beetlejuice fans talking about the “School of Rock” musical. I’ve only seen the movie, and I love it. Should I give it a listen?

- “ “They look… nice.” Adam’s cheeks were flushed a dark pink. Barbara let out a delighted giggle as she rubbed her hands over his facial hair. “What a professional little man!” ” - They think he is so handsome. Barbara cannot control her cuteness aggression.

- “Lydia, pumpkin, I don’t want the people of this town thinking of me as a scoundrel. He obviously is too old to be E-.. Emily’s son.” - He’s trying his best to keep Emily relevant and talked about!! It’s just a bit hard still. Also, yeah, no one would really believe the man with greying hair was spawned from Charles and Emily.

- “He hadn’t been opposed to people thinking he was his son.” - he has never been called someone’s son in a positive way! New experience unlocked!

- “He was… happy. Light. Warm. He felt like he could rip apart a car with his teeth.” - like yours truly, Beetlejuice gets the urge to bite and rip things apart with his teeth when he is excited.

- “ “… I’ll tell folks I’m a distant Maitland relative. Maybe a cousin!” Beetlejuice grabbed Lydia’s arm, going to pull her out the door, missing the way Adam and Barbara wrinkled their noses at the word ‘cousin’.” - I wonder why they were so opposed to him being called a cousin? Hmmm.

- “Beetlejuice slides the Book across the counter and holds out a pen. “Have you heard about our Loyalty Program?” ” - what a weird, suspicious insistence he has. I wonder why that ‘Book’ is capitalized. Surely that must be an error? ;)

- “He bolts off, excusing that he needs to go find Percy and put him in ‘extreme air jail’.” - ‘Extreme air jail’ is when he floats off the ground while holding Percy up. Like regular air jail, but extreme.

- “Aftershave. Tung oil. Black tea. Tea-tree oil and nicotine.” - the smells, respectively, are from Charles, Adam, Barbara, and Delia! Delia smells like her vape pen a bit.

- “Lydia released the demon’s hands, slowly stepping behind them. “I’m behind you, alright? I’m gonna take your blindfold off.” ” - Lydia educated herself on his triggers and is careful not to come up behind him/touch his back or chest without letting him know first!

- “The walls had a familiar striped wallpaper applied to them..” - they recreated the striped walls from when Beej took over the house!

- “… pocketed figurines of various horror characters and stupid-looking colorful monsters. (Adam had called them “pokay-men”?)” - Beetlejuice stole a bunch of Pokémon funko pops without knowing anything about them, except that Adam likes them.

- Two “Lisa Frankenstein” references! The poster, as well as the name of a character later.

- “The ceiling was lined with familiar gentle string lights, the bulbs giving off a soft yellow glow.” - gentle lighting for his sensitive eyes, courtesy of Adam and Barbara! He never really turns on the overhead lights.

- “A large, fuzzy, purple rug covered most of the hard concrete floor.” - Delia picked this out for him! She knows how much he loves Floor Time.

- “… seemingly home-made black and white quilt..” - Barbara made it herself!

- “.. and a rotund black cat plush Lydia had ordered off of Amazon and claimed was for herself.” - it is a squishmallow. Beej still has no idea what they are, but Lyds got one just for him!

- “.. even a rocking chair covered in a bright green fleece blanket in the corner-” - Charles picked out that blanket after seeing how much Beetlejuice enjoyed the fleece blanket on the guest bed!

- “Like Dad said, you deserve your own space, big guy.” - ‘Dad’ is capitalized like that because Lydia considers Charles both her and Beej’s dad now.

- “They still aren’t sure what to do, way later that night, as they lie in their very own bed for the first time. They’d never had a space of their own.” - yeah, he’s never had his own bed. Or room. He mostly slept on the floor growing up, sometimes under a stove!

- “.. as he stared up at the multitude of gently glowing green stars plastered on the ceiling.” - Delia heard that his name is based on a star, so she got these and carefully plotted them out to match the real night sky/constellations!

- “ “I was only thirteen, Beetlejuice.” … “I dunno, Sexy. Arson is a pretty mild form of revenge. I was doin’ a lot worse for a lot less at that age.” ” - Beetlejuice had suggested that Adam should’ve set a bully’s backpack on fire.

- “And you don’t wanna put your weapon up against your victim’s back. Makes it real easy for them to just take it from ya.” - This is true! A little bit of self defense advice!

- “Do you get all your mugging tools at Home Depot? God/Satan, you’re butch.” And “My tit!” - These are both “Jennifer’s Body” references. I couldn’t help myself.

- “… red sleeveless sweater, frowning at the blood-stained button-up underneath. “My.. good friend gave me this stupid, tacky sweater vest…” ” - Yeah he dresses like his human disguise like Dewey Finn because of Adam.

- “It was tacky and itchy and smelled like mothballs, but it was still something one of his favorite ghosts had given him.” - Beetlejuice savors every single thing given to him, because no one really ever gave him presents before.

- “Don’t say Barbara, don’t say Barbara- “Ba-.. Bab… Babette.” What the fuck was that? Babette? “Yeah. Babette… ” ” - Of course, the town remembers Adam and Barbara, so he has to call them by other names. ‘Babette’ is what he thought of on the spot.

- Suprise! Ash is Sky the Girl Scout’s sister! Her full name is “Ashlyn Swallows”, but she only wants to go by “Ash”.

- “Fuuuuck.” … “ “.. damn. That… that, uh… poor girl..” Fuck, the Maitlands and Charles and Delia are going to be so mad when they hear about this.” - Asshole Beej, my beloved. He only cares about his own humans, and not at all how he impacts anyone outside his circle.

- “…and a fair wage from my own pocket.” - So the business doesn’t suffer from the absurd amount of money he is going to pay this kid.

- “Beetlejuice’s ear flicked at the sound of her heartbeat quickening, the jewelry clinking irritably.” - Yeah he hates the jewelry, but he had a hard time saying ‘no’ to Cyrus’ gifts.

- “… yeah. I didn’t realize she’d remember, though.” - Hmm. I wonder if anyone else remembers things that occurred during the loop?

- “… and Barbara enjoyed the occasional sniff of his glass.” - Since she can’t drink the wine, Beetlejuice is letting her smell it instead. Not the same, but it’s still nice!

- “Barbara was sat right up next to him on the couch, leaning on his side and keeping an arm loosely around his midsection.” … “They try their best not to melt at Barbara’s touch as she starts to gently scratch at their chin.” … “His ears went back at the delighted little squeak from Barbara, but he relaxed as she wrapped her arms around him and tightly squeezed. “There he is!” Beetlejuice felt his tail quivering as he wrapped one arm around her in turn. “Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m the most handsome devil you’ve ever seen.” The ghost softly huffed. “It’s true!” ” - Barbara is laying it on THICK. Too bad Beetlejuice’s skull is thicker!

- “.. the demon jumped as Delia leaned in close, scrunching up his nose at the smell of wine on her breath, the sudden increase in all of the sounds of her body functioning. Lungs expanding, blood flowing, joints creaking. It was much harder to ignore when she was that close.” - Beej is constantly overwhelmed by the noises everything makes, especially since he’s not taking care of his sensory needs.

- “The demon slowly let out a breath once Delia leaned back into her place again, his grip on Barbara tightening. Why was it so hard to allow humans to be close?” - BECAUSE HE DOESN’T PAY ATTENTION TO HIS SENSORY NEEDS. And also people suck sometimes.

- “He glanced down at the ghost, hurriedly looking away and taking a swig of his wine when he found her staring up at him with a soft, fond look in her eyes.” - Oh, he’s big stupid. Thankfully, Barbara likes her men just a wee bit stupid.

- “Beetlejuice slurred, finishing off his glass. He went to release Barbara and reach out to refill it, but she gripped onto him tighter.” … “He felt the wine glass be tugged from his grip.” - Barbara decided he had enough, and is gently cutting him off here.

- “(If anything, at least the alcohol was dulling the horrid sounds of the house settling, of the wind blowing and clouds churning, of the distant call of the cicadas. He could no longer feel how tight the stupid dress shirt was, feel his own teeth sitting in his skull. It was nice. Perhaps he should drink more often.)” - unfortunately, a staggering amount of adults with autism use alcoholism to cope with symptoms they have yet to learn how to properly cope with, and to help them better socialize.

- “Just like there’s some stupid part of me that’ll always hope my Ma will turn herself around and start carin’ about me.” - AUGH. The anguish of having abusive parents. Some stupid hard-wired part of your brain is always hopeful they’ll just decide to be good one day.

- “… kids are great like that. They’re made with this…. Hard wired love for their parents.” … “I always thought.. it would be great to take all the love I had saved up for her, all the love she never returned, and… pass it on.” - HE JUST WANTS TO LOVE AND BE LOVED SO BAD OKAY?? I’m not crying you are

- “He titled his head back a bit to look at Adam, in his pajamas, without his glasses, staring the demon down with the most sorrowful expression he’d ever seen on a human being. It hurts worse than the ritual, worse than the glass window, worse than centuries of solitude. This is all you do, Lawrence. You hurt others, and you hurt yourself. His mother’s voice is always in the back of his mind, but it’s so clear now.” - Adam is feeling sympathy and/or empathy, like a normal person, but Beej is taking it as him hurting Adam by being the way that he is.

- “ “B-but they… I could never…” The Maitlands hold him tightly. Barbara gently shushes him, running her fingers through his hair. He didn’t have to finish. She knew. They shared that pain, together. They’d had a long, tearful conversation one night, during their year in the loop. It was the closest he’d ever felt to human, even considering the times he was actually human.” - I will leave this up to interpretation within the confines of Time’s Arrow. I may expand upon it in one of the extra chapters, maybe write out the conversation they had, but for now I will allow readers to come to their own conclusions, since this breaches topics I am currently not fully equipped/educated to write about.

- “ “Maybe you can distribute that love elsewhere.” It wasn’t too bad an idea. But where?” - Delia is suggesting to turn that love inwards, and to maybe also distribute it to Lydia and the Maitlands. But Beej is daft.

- “ “Pink’s a great color on you,” Delia says, patting his cheek before she turns to head back towards the living room. He couldn’t disagree more.” - YOU DESERVE LOVE. CARE IS A GOOD LOOK ON YOU. Oh god he isn’t listening.

- “Sleep finally finds them. They aren’t sure how they made it down into their room, or how they were able to change into a cozy sweatshirt and pair of loose-fitting boxer shorts. But somehow, they did.” - Adam and Barbara carefully and very respectfully helped him change!

- “As they took a wary little sip of the old, undiluted wine,” - Greek wine from waaay back when had to be diluted. Undiluted, it is way too strong and bitter.

- “ “Beetlejuice, when was the last time you drank water?” .. “I had a Dr. Pepper last week.” .. “Who gave you a Dr. Pepper?” “Wh- I’m a grown demon! I can get myself a Dr. Pepper!” Lydia raised an eyebrow at him. He scoffed, looking down at the counter. “Fine. Ash did.” ” - this is both based on a bit from Game Grumps and also a conversation I had with a friend.

- “For that hour before the two of them had to leave, Beetlejuice instead listened. At first it was frantic, confused. Then the conversation was light and breezy. Teasing, joking, excitedly comparing interests. He knew he had to make them meet from the moment Ash mentioned cinematography. Neither of them had many friends other than him, from what he’d heard. And he was sure Ash didn’t consider him a friend regardless. I’m a genius.” - My guy thinks he is the master of meet-cutes. He needs to meet-cut it out and go to therapy. (Next chapter can’t come soon enough…)

- “Their tongue and throat burned with the remains of that horrible sticky, iron taste.” … “Energy, revitalized from this latest sacrifice, buzzed through their whole being..” - Yeah he is accepting sacrifices of human blood from Cyrus’ cult. That is how he is getting the energy and strength to resist the Seal.

- “They desperately grasp Cyrus’ hands. They fumble, head burning and spinning, as they guide his hands to their throat. The demon quirks an eyebrow at them curiously. “Hurt me,” they rasp, their words almost slurring together. “Hurt me like you did before.” ” - DRUNKEN CONSENT IS NOT REAL CONSENT!! Allowing someone to hurt you is not an adequate way to deal with your issues!!

- “As you wish, Pet.” - Sorry I twisted a line from a beloved romance story and made it fucked up. It will not happen again. (It might)

Fun tidbit for making it this far! Here are some TikToks that summarize Ash and Beej’s “friendship”! This, this, and this!

[katyspersonal]

Alright, go crazy, go stupid ✌️

48. What’s your favorite physical/design feature for this character?

For the Bloodborne girl cast!

uhhh, Maria, Doll, Annalise, Henriett, Gratia, Queen Yharnam, Ebrietas, Rom, Flora, Kos, Arianna, Adella, Eileen, white church doctor, black church doctor, Fausefka, Iosefka, Old Lady lol, Viola, Gascoigne’s daughters, Mergo’s Wet Nurse, Vicar Amelia, Witches of Hemwick, uhhhhhhh, Yurie, Bell Women, Cainhurst portrait women, Dores, Adeline,…..uhhhh….well….dammit if I have forgotten someone very important then I apologize to all women.

(Ask from this ( x ) meme) Ohhhh boy, look who heard out my wish to discuss the design features!! Thank you very much!

48) What’s your favorite physical/design feature for this character?

ATTENTION: for some of these characters I might use my own headcanons on their appearances as an answer!

Maria and Doll: their lovely super pale eyelashes! As usual, common Fromsoft W putting effort into a detail that is hard to notice by normal means!

As for the distinct design elements (which in their case their clothes), for Maria I love the cute smaller broches by either side of her main one, and for the Doll I love her cute floral-patterned gloves!

Annalise: I love her big forehead. I am worried that I miss out this feature on accident sometimes in my drawings of her (just need more art skill), but I am mindful about it!

Henriett: I love that she either 1) is implied to wear a makeup (gotta stay class no matter what) or 2) just has naturally different color for brows and eyelashes? Common Fromsoft W on details no sane person would detect yet AGAIN. Close second is her awesome top hat that no one wears like her.

Gratia: I love her red hair so much. She has the most red hair in the setting. I love this so much. Hers is more red than Cainhurst red, even.

(From this ( x ) page with datamined corpse models, some of the following ones will also be from here)

Queen Yharnam: This is exclusive for her pregnant/boss variant, the one we interact with peacefully doesn't have them. But I love cute rose-themed decorations around her gown! Adorable detail!

Ebrietas: Her big anime girl green eyes, what else I can say? x) The very distinct feature, and they look like there are green cosmic nebulas shining inside them!

Rom: This is hard to choose because this IS the perfect female body, I think her existence alone should prove how useless beauty standards are dhfsdh I will never be her 😔 Her adorable tails is the close second, but I love that she is a forest. What grows on her back is more resembling of tree branches with glowing buds! This is not lumenweed, this is lumenWOOD! XD

Flora: The small wings. Of the 'skinny' type and not birdlike type, same as Ebrietas' and celestial children, but kinda damaged, or undeveloped? These wings tell a story. Feels similar to how Amygdalae have just lump of flesh in the place of wings, but their Kin, Gardens of Eyes, do have beautiful butterfly wings! It feels like a theme of needing humanity (?) to be truly fulfilled. Jealous Moon, eh?

Kos: I love her fins, especially the fin on her back! Well, it doesn't look very fin-like anymore, and there is clearly better look at it on the concept art! Just...... fish

Arianna: I love her purple eyes! Really stands out! I was really excited to find out she had such unusual feature!

Adella: Similarly to Henriett, I love how her brows and eyelashes color has a contrast with her hair color! Hers is paler!

Eileen: The only truly notable feature about her design is her unique mask, as Bloody Crow wears the same garb, and I feel like it won't really say anything.. The girl doesn't even have canon face data! So let me pull my own out uhhh..

I am quite happy with her beak! x) I needed the resemblance of 'crow' in her visual design, you don't understand! My initial idea for her design, though, was making her blonde in earlier life and then have silver, basically white hair in her old age, while still having skin dark because contrast is so good. It would be to symbolise a change, from "sunshine" to "moonlight".. I got discouraged when I was told it was 'unrealistic' feature for dark skinned people (and should not have listened, because Bloodborne already has two characters canonically who are blondes with dark skin). If I ever backtrack on that idea for her, consider the beautiful white hair and how it contrasts to be the answer!

White Church Doctor: In this case I will go for the obvious answer. This is her cute mole! I am so happy when other people notice it too!! When someone draws this character and does feature the mole, I am so happy ;-;

Black Church Doctor: I love the shape of her eyes! Interestingly though, she uses the same sliders as female preset hunter (in initial character creation), and her eyes are green like Brador's and have a similar shape, also her eyelashes are same color as his. Both Brador and Paleblood Hunter come from the same foreign land as their clothes lore suggest, so... same country? Or even relation to Brador? Hello....?

Fauxsefka and Iosefka: Eyelashes. Eyelashes. They use the especially long variant of eyelashes. I always enjoy drawing them, especially Fauxsefka's!

Lonely Old Dear: This is the hardest one yet, because there is nothing particular to point out. There are no other distinct old female characters we are shown in the game, nor her outfit is unique as there are many corpses in this outfit in Yahar'gul (and one in the woods). I do like the cute setting-appropriate hat, but I think a more fair one is to say that they bothered showing her eyes condition!

Viola: I love her red brooch! ...that we never do see on her in the game. But I think it is a really good detail for her design, and the best color to contrast with both her hair and clothes!

Older Daughter: This is an interpretation liberty, since this can and likely is a blood drop, but I like to think she has a spot on her forehead!

Younger daughter: Another case where I gotta use my own design! I like how her appearance mixes that of both parents rather than resembling one or another x) Gascoigne used to have auburn hair and green eyes, so hers mix those colors with Viola's blonde hair and blue eyes!

Mergo's Wet Nurse: Uhhhhh everything?? She is so incredibly stylish? fdsjfdshfd I fucking LOVE the absurd amount of heavily detalized trinkets all over her body! Get it.... because crows love shinies...... haha....

(Take a closer look at all her glory in wiki's gallery ( x ))

Amelia: Her very tiny tail. :3

Witches of Hemwick 1 and 2: The fact that!!!!! the eyes are all different colors??? How sick is this??? Look at this! Some also have iris whitening, same as what happened with Djura's eyes, and others have fully enlargened pupil!

Witch of Hemwick 3: Okay, you absolutely saw this one coming lol. I love how wide is her nasal bridge! Very distinct feature! (Also coming clear with my skill issue, as I do not give a justice to her eyes; in reality they're smaller and located wider from each other!)

Yurie: I really like her lips shape, actually! Very full, very smoochable.

Bell-Ringing Women: I love the decoration circling around their cape! This really adds to the design, it looks so much better this way than if it was just plain cape as is!

Cainhurst portrait women: Damn, they are all so beautiful! I guess as for Bell-Ringer resembling one, the previous point applies! Though she looks like she could be mother of Iosefka and Fauxsefka? And the knight woman has a very distinct nose shape! With Annalise's mother (I am not sure who else would wear a crown on portrait whereas not being Annalise..), I of course love how long her neck is x) Her posture is so regal, and this emphasises it!

Similar feature shared with the one who wears silver variant of the Noble Dress (basically Arianna's dress, and even identical shoes, but a bit more detailed in a couple of places). I'm gonna say though, I do love the silver variant more than burgundy one, especially with Forsaken Castle Ghosts whose hair became platinum! And the old lady has not only the necklaces, but also earrings and the bracelet which are quite modest and harder to see, but they are here! I love this attention to small details!

Dores: As iconic as her wearing a scalp of Pthumerian face like a mask is, but my favourite bit is, actually, the ungodly amount of tools dangling from her belt! My Mico in his Research Hall surgeon era can only dream about the same level of unsettling x)

Adeline: Again, she has the appearance of a Research Hall patient with the exception of larger amount of belts (she is feral!) and unique bandana around her neck! It feels unfair to point out either of these, because... yeah, sure. They just make her distinct. So I'll refer to my version of her and say that I love her hair buns and want to squeeze them every time I draw her. x) The bandana IS precious, though!

______________________

Okay that was WILD, thank you for letting me go mad dfhahds You HAVE forgotten Hemwick Gravewomen, Evil Labyrinth Spirits, Snail/Slug Women, Mergo's Chief Attendants and female Beast Patients though XD I've met Tumblr images limit so I have to combine into one image.

But, Hemwick Gravewomen have strangely elongated skulls, and I love this bit. Considering the bandage over their forehead, perhaps, they've found their own way to place eyes on their brain? With statue behind Memory Altar and in the dungeons featuring a stitch over forehead and Rune Tool being found in Hemwick, would not be surprising. And with Evil Labyrinth Spirits, I guess I love the cool feature that is only in the concept art, but didn't make it into the actual model?? The evil red spirits erupting from her belly area are so badass??

With Slug Women, I guess the only thing I can tell is which variant I like more... And it is the shell one, of course x) Or simply red eyes with female Beast Patients! But with Chief Attendants, the plate on their bellies features upturned wings, and this is my favourite detail! They could represent wings of Wet Nurse or Flora! I love the mystery hidden on the plain sight so much!! Why could not Bloodborne give us a way to farm armour from mobs so we could read the description that would explain... ;-;

Okay, now my brain is OFFICIALLY fried (in a good way), and this post definitely will help me as a good self-reference! This is, however, now one of my favourite posts by myself, because.. many women.

[copperbadge]

Am I wrong in picturing Jes as a more stylish and whiter haired Tig Notaro? If so, do you have a fan cast (Author cast?) for them?

Oh, I think Tig Notaro makes a fine facecast for Jes, no objections. Because I don't have super set visuals of people in my mind (aphantasia ahoy!) I generally don't object to however people would like to picture my characters. I do have a little description bible for most of the characters, written up for an artist who had asked about them, and this is Jes's entry:

I based Jes physically on a real person I knew in college, but a friend sent me to V Spehar as a real "Jes Look" and I love that. Jes's hair is bleached white, but their eyebrows are still dark and relatively heavy like V's; their hair's a little more corralled (they tend to have an undercut with the top pulled back into a little ponytail at the crown). Jes and Noah are canonically described in the books as having a "narrow face and snub nose, dark heavy brows and pale [blue] eyes".

But really like...I feel like a lot of the point for romance novels, all novels really but particularly romance novels, is that the majority of people either want to see themselves or they want to see people they find attractive, or both, in the story they're reading. So I try to leave some space for that; for some people Jes might look like Tig Notaro or V Spehar or Sofie Hagen or Suzy Eddie Izzard. I want people to be able to put a bit of their own twist on the characters.

Now, if Jes were going to be played in a movie or TV show I would want them to be played by a nonbinary actor, but mainly because it's tough for nonbinary actors to get work and when they do they're often pushed into a male or female role, so a nonbinary role should go to a nonbinary actor. I'd also want to keep the ice-white hair because that's a really signature look for Jes. But beyond that I wouldn't particularly be a stickler for body type or eye color or whatnot. (I will say if Tig Notaro wanted to play Jes Deimos, Notaro is queer and GNC and an activist for queer visibility in media, so it's not like I'd be upset.)

[clarafyer]

A New Face

Some backstory for my character who will be used in Wild Beyond the Witchlight

Some scenery and general things about the carnival will be made up since I'm a player and won't spoil myself of the campaign

TW for: minor mention of blood, unsettling imagery

A wondrous night indeed, people entering with curiousity and leaving with absolute joy. Tonight was the carnival's last night here before moving on to their next location, wherever it would be. The stars in that glorious night sky glimmered, and the flames within the lamp posts danced. As the moon reached it's peak, a small piece of jewelry shone against it, rolling out from the small alley to the bustling clearing.

The stagehand was on his break, and noticed a broken necklace in the grass, "agh, dammit." Crouching down to pick it up, he scrambled to collect the falling beads before being at the feet of a stranger. He was obscured by darkness, but the intricately bedazzled masquerade mask in his hands highlighted pale, soft fingers. The stagehand stood up to meet the stranger's gaze, but as he fixed his hair out of his face, he only saw a reflection of himself.

He jumped, the hairs on the back of his neck rising before a single finger shushed him. "I won't hurt you, just be quiet," his own voice whispered to him.

The stagehand slapped his mirrored hand away, and opened his mouth to yell, before stopping himself and instead calmed himself. "You aren't allowed back here- whatever you are," he stiffly ordered.

The doppleganger inquired, "well, what can I do so that I am allowed?"

He thought for a moment, "this thing..." he thought to himself, "it should leave, please just make it leave!" He then composed himself, clearing his throat. "You could, uhm- Work. Here. Atthecarnival-"

"That'd be great!" The stranger interrupted with utter glee. "When do I start?" It smiled uncomfortably wide.

"Woah, woah, woah- hold on! Who in the Hells even are you? I'm not even the person to ask about hiring anyways! Why did I..." He trailed off, his mouth agape as his mirror form morphed back into that looming figure from before, putting the mask over his face. His appearance was clearer now. He bore a wide-brimmed hat with a single long feather; a long, regal blue cloak that wrapped around his body, just touching the ground; and of course the mask. The gold-colored mask that'd been scavenged from the box just behind the figure. His skin was silvery, almost porcelain. And his hair was as white as snow, long and wavy, just as his eyes were a piercing- almost glowing the same color

The stagehand's brows furrowed as he noticed a crimson stain on the inside of the newly revealed changeling's cloak, before it quickly was snapped hidden. He jolted his gaze back to those eyes that shone behind the mask, before the changeling spoke, still bearing that damned smile.

"I go by many-a-name, child. But you can call me... Cain."

---

Some of the visual descriptions may not end up accurate because the artist in me is constantly fighting the writer in me, but anywho! This is Cain, a changeling rogue (mastermind) whose name totally doesn't reveal everything about him to those who know! It's currently 1 AM, and I still gotta work on his design and character sheet. But he won't end up being used until after we finish Strixhaven, so that'll be a while.

Thanks for reading! :)

[dubblebubbletea]

My mom keeps telling me I need to tone it down w my eyebrows because they are too Big for my otherwise Refined Features and I’m like no mom!! Big Eyebrows are the Trend right now! Let me have this

[soulmate-game]

Harley’s Plea for Help: Chapter 2

Chapter 1

“How long do you think it’s gonna take before she decides to sneak out?” Nightwing asked over his comms, lazily leaning against the balcony railing in front of him with his head resting on one hand.

“Dude, I started sneaking out almost twenty minutes ago,” a girl’s voice made Nightwing squeak and turn around, to reveal a teenage girl leaning against the door that led to the balcony he was on. “I didn’t want to draw attention to myself by doing unnecessarily showy gymnastics down from my hotel room’s balcony, no matter how much fun that would be, so I just snuck out one of the hotel’s back exits. Then I looked up to admire the moon and saw you here, staking out what is clearly my suite, and decided to come pay you a visit.”

“How long have you been there? And how did you even get behind me? I hope you didn’t break and enter, that’s an actual lived-in apartment behind us right now,” Nightwing asked, turning around to analyze the daughter of Harley Quinn for the first time in person.

She looked just like in her pictures, of course. Jet black hair like her father’s, except it seemed to have a bluish shine in the light. And her eyes were definitely Harley’s— thank goodness for that —vibrant blue and clearly analyzing him with the same amount of intensity as his did her. He had to bite back a chuckle. In a turn of complete irony, she really did look like a Wayne kid. Fit all of Bruce’s usual criteria to be adopted. But she was tiny, even smaller than Harley’s lithe form. He, Bruce, and Tim were of the hypothesis that the exposure both her parents had to Ace Chemical’s vats of acid likely had an effect on her DNA that stunted her growth. Perhaps there were other effects that they wouldn’t be able to figure out until they got to know her better, too, though it was clear that her skin was a likely one. It wasn’t unnaturally pale like her parent’s after their acid dips but it was paler than normal for sure, just a shade or two shy of being paper white.

And he could see, now, what Harley meant when she referred to Marinette as a powerhouse. It wasn’t very noticeable in pictures, but up close Dick could see the carefully honed muscle of an acrobat curling over her otherwise slim build. Combined with the knowledge that Marinette had been taught at least some serious self defense from a young age, he could see how such a tiny package could be a remarkable threat when necessary.

Marinette grimaced as the other Batfam, who were all nearby staking out her room from different angles, dropped onto the large balcony with them.

“Uh, well. I didn’t break and enter, I rather not get off to a criminal-ly start on my first night in Gotham, you know? But I realized that even though I was able to figure out the exact room you were staking me out from, I realized as soon as I got into the first floor of the building that I had no idea how to actually get to you. So I just climbed the stairs all the way to the roof and scaled my way down to this balcony, and pretended I’ve been here for a while when really I was barely able to hear you ask when I was gonna sneak out. I’m still out of breath, actually,” she put a hand on her chest and sure enough her breathing was still slightly fast. But not enough to be worrying or even all that noticeable. Yet another piece of evidence to show that she was a very active individual and had resistance built up to physical activity.

“Yup,” Robin groused grumpily, crossing his arms. “With all that rambling, you couldn’t be anyone else’s child but Quinzel’s.”

Marinette’s face immediately flushed pink all the way to her ears. “I’m sorry! I’ve been trying so hard to quit that habit, too!” She grumbled a bit to herself, putting her face in her hands. They all chuckled at the display. Red Hood ambled over, draping his arm over her shoulders (he nearly had to bend in half to do it, the height difference was that bad).

“As adorable as your freak out is, why’d you even come up here anyway? There’s no way you’d scale down a ten-story building just to say hello.”

She let out a heavy sigh at that, slowly peeling her face out of her hands. “Yeah, I recognized you guys right away. And honestly, as much as Momma Harley would be super proud of me for managing to give an entire group of vigilantes the slip, she’d also ground me for life if she found out that I saw you guys and still snuck away even though she probably swallowed her pride and asked you guys to babysit me, right? Self preservation. Contrary to popular belief, I do actually have some.”

“Wait,” Red Robin held up a hand, brows clearly furrowed under his cowl. “You expected her to ask for our help?”

“Well,” she made a so-so motion with her hand. “I didn’t think of it beforehand, but it all clicked once I saw Nightwing. I know how much my mom is worried about me, especially since you-know-who broke out a few days ago. She is more than worried enough to ask you guys for help. Even if she does complain about you guys, a lot actually, she also has made it clear that she trusts you guys with the stuff that actually matters.

“‘You know who’?” Batman repeated, arms crossed. If Marinette squinted, she thought there might have been a grin on his lips. “Is that how you always refer to him?”

“What else am I gonna call him?” she asked, face going deadpan. “Sperm donor? Source of a large amount of my self doubt and depreciation? The prime reason I haven’t been able to see my mom in person more often over the years? Oh, I know! How about I just always refer to him as ‘that bastard I wanna punch,’? That sounds good!” she rolled her eyes sarcastically. “Only one person in this world has the right to be considered my father in any capacity, and it sure as hell isn’t him. Genetics notwithstanding.”

Red Hood straight up guffawed at that, landing several rough pats on her back that made the girl stumble a bit. “Yep, I like this one! But as fun as it would be to see you give that jackass a mean left hook, it’s better if he never finds out who you are or knows that you’re here,” the vigilante’s voice got dark and serious very quickly. “He doesn’t forget people he finds interesting easily, and if he ever finds out about the connection you have to him, he’ll be a constant threat in your life.”

“I know,” Marinette agreed with a nod. “And if this conversation was happening two years ago, I’d say that my mom’s concerns aren’t unfounded. That I am too easily emotionally compromised and despite my deep seated issues and hatred for that man, I couldn’t guarantee he would be unable to get to me.”

Batman straightened up, as did all of his sons around him. None of them had missed the ‘if’ there. Batman’s voice went from charmingly deep to it’s usual gruff grumble. “What changed in two years?”

They all watched as Marinette gulped, taking a deep breath as she stalled for time, looking out at the view on the balcony before seeming to steel herself and return her gaze to Batman’s. When she did, it was suddenly full of iron will.

“I didn’t lie when I told Mom that I came to visit her— but that isn’t the whole truth, either. If I just wanted to visit her in Gotham, I would have waited until I was eighteen like we agreed. But I can’t wait, Paris can’t keep going on like this. I entered that contest because it was the fastest way to see you. I didn’t know if I would win, but… I had to take the chance. There was no way I’d be able to get to Gotham behind my mom’s back otherwise.”

“What are you talking about?” Robin hissed, stepping up to his father’s side. “Paris has been silent. If anything were happening, we would have heard about it by now.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Marinette corrected, never losing that ironclad look in her eyes. “Because a combination of magic and politics is keeping it quiet. No news about Paris’ situation is able to leave the city limits. Magic makes any non-native who leaves Paris think that everything they experienced was just a crazy dream. Natives won’t forget, but politics has all of us under very strict NDAs if we leave city boundaries, and all of our local news and social media is blocked from being accessed by anyone outside the city. But, I figured a little breaking of the rules wouldn’t exactly put a stain on my family’s reputation or anything, so,” she dug in her pocket and pulled out a thumb drive, holding it up for all of them to see. She swallowed again, but never stopped her eye contact with Batman. She held out the thumb drive.

“I came to Gotham to ask for your help. This sped things up, I didn’t expect to see you on my first night here, but two years in Hawkmoth’s Paris has really taught me how to roll with the punches. This,” she shook the thumb drive. “Holds videos of every fight since HawkMoth first showed up. It has all the information I’ve gathered over two years, tracks his movements and lists all his targets and— everything. But I’m not a detective, I’m a designer. I make clothes, I spar on the weekends, I am not good at getting evidence to prove that someone is a magic-abusing villain holding an entire city hostage.”

“We’re gonna need some details, Little Q,” Red Hood finally removes his arm from around her shoulders, instead crossing his arms and looking down at her sternly. “If your city has a villain holding it hostage, is anyone fighting him? And if you do have someone fighting him, why don’t you need our help, or why didn’t they call the Justice League? The JLE should be in Paris, right?”

Marinette snorted, face scrunching up in obvious distaste. “I’ll have to answer those a little out of order. First; the JLE was kicked out of Paris. They moved their headquarters to Italy about five years ago, I’m just surprised they apparently kept that secret from you,” she gestured to all of them, who indeed seemed very caught off guard by that tidbit. But Marinette just sighed and continued. “Though that’s a good thing, actually. We do have heroes, it started out as just a pair but it’s grown into a small team out of necessity. They didn’t call the Justice League because the last thing we need is any powered heroes coming in and making it worse— your league doesn’t have the best reputation for letting newer heroes take the lead even on their home turf, you know,” she pointed out, which made Batman shift a bit guiltily. He knew the JL was often a bit… heavy handed in their methods.

“What makes the situation so bad that you don’t want to bring experienced heroes into it?” Red Robin cut in, sounding as if the whole situation was a puzzle he was determined to sort out. Which, really, was exactly what Marinette had been counting on. She shot him a finger gun, grinning.

“That’s exactly the point! Hawkmoth uses a magical artifact, like I said— but this artifact can brainwash anybody who experiences even the slightest negative emotion. Sadness, anger, fear— anything negative. And it gives them powers, but puts them largely under his influence,” her expression twisted again, this time into a wry little grimace. “I guess you can say that my momma’s psychiatry background has secretly come in handy a lot over these past two years. And Hawkmoth is exactly why I try to tell Momma Harley to stop visiting me— I have worked my butt off to keep her from finding out about his attacks or getting Akumatized. Every time she shows up it gives me a heart attack!”

“Akumatized?”

Marinette waved a hand dismissively. “It’s the term used for when someone is turned into a super powered villain because of HawkMoth. The brainwashing— really it’s more similar to a straight up corruption. The person usually lacks their usual moral compass, and just seeks to soothe whatever set off their negative emotion in the first place. Usually, that means they seek a bloody revenge. And if someone who already has extensive training or extremely strong powers gets Akumatized, guess what?” She made jazz hands even though her face was deadpan. “Extra powers, or amplified ones, for the metas or superheroes who are Akumatized. And imagine what someone with, say, Batman’s level of experience could do if he had powers and no moral compass,” the silence that followed her words was deafening. She just nodded, knowing she had gotten her point across. “I’ve been working my butt off to stay positive, because if I’m Akumatized…” her shoulders fell, and she had to swallow a lump in her throat. “... I have no idea what I’d turn into, but if you take into consideration both my training and my family history… it’s really best if we never find out what kind of magic-powered supervillain I’d make.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Nightwing said after another long moment of silence for that to all sink in. He gestured at her with an open palm. “You’ve been dealing with a terrorist for two years who targets emotional vulnerability, you apparently have never been corrupted by this magic at least to present day, but your mother still worries about you being very emotionally fragile. And your heroes are not detectives, which is clearly what you need or you wouldn’t have asked us for our help.”

Marinette nodded. “I used to be very impressionable. At the start of all this, I was a huge people-pleaser. I got attached to new people in a matter of minutes. My mom always said I reminded her too much of herself— but two years of fighting off a guy trying to get into my head—“

“Wait,” Batman nearly barked, taking a step forward. “He’s been targeting you? You specifically?”

Marinette nodded grimly, mouth a straight line. “Not from the beginning, but this past year it’s been painfully obvious. He might be able to sense the strength of people’s emotions, and unfortunately I don’t exactly experience my emotions very… gently. All of my emotions tend to the much more intense side of the spectrum. If that’s true, then he might know that any negative emotion I feel will make an extremely strong Akuma. Either that, or he’s going by process of elimination. All of my friends, except for one, have been Akumatized already. So has my Papan and my grandmother. But it’s obvious when he’s targeting someone, I’ve felt him try to override my will on several occasions. But I can’t just repress all of my negative emotions forever, so consider us working against the clock right now. That thumb drive has all the details you need about our heroes, how exactly Hawkmoth’s powers work, and so on.”

“Do your heroes know you’re asking for our help?” Red Robin asked, gaze burning a figurative hole through Marinette’s face. “Better yet, if this drive has as much information as you say it does, how did you get it?”

Marinette handed the drive over to Batman, who finally took it and tucked it in his belt as she answered.

“Momma Harley might have a lot to say about your detective skills, but you are all still strangers to me. So consider this a test of your abilities— I expect that you will all go to extreme lengths to verify all of the information I gave you anyway. After all, I’m still the daughter of your most hated enemy. Right?” She met each of their gazes, one by one, with a challenging one of her own. “You’ll just have to figure out my connection to the heroes on your own. And how I got the information, too. It shouldn’t be too hard for the so-called world’s greatest detectives. And maybe this can double as a trust exercise. I fully expect you guys to scour through every inch of my past, and dig up everything you can on me. I encourage you to try to find everything you can, so that hopefully you can decide to trust me on your own once you have all the details laid out in front of you. By the way, for your own sanity? I’d start with reading about all of our heroes’ powers and abilities before you watch any footage of past attacks.”

Red hood rocked back on his heels, trading glances with the other vigilantes before they all shared a nod. Apparently having decided their course of action, Red Hood leaned down and hoisted Marinette up into a princess carry. All traces of her previous iron will melted away in favor of the high pitched squeal of surprise she gave, and once more she became an overly flustered teenager.

“Alright, little cutie. Let’s get you to your mom’s place before she and her crazy plant lady fiancé come hunting us down.”

“I can walk! I can freerun on my own! Mon dieu please let me down! Eeeeek!” She squealed again as Robin slapped a domino mask over her eyes and Red Hood wasted no time jumping over the balcony railing with her still in his arms. The fact that they were lowered down by a wire wrapped around Hood’s waist didn’t seem to take away any of the fright that came with a sudden drop over an eighth-story balcony.

Part 1

@emotionalsupportginger @alysrose-starchild @emistar0 @kibastray @justanotherfanficlovinbitch @alyssadeliv @blackroserelina @blackstarlight-co @readingalldaysleepingallnight @maanae @aespades @jaybird-and-co @fleursroses @probably-a-hologram @misterpianoman (didn’t work sorry)

[jarofstyles]

Wings 4

Here’s part 4!

If you like this, check out our Patreon for early access and exclusive writings!

——

Waking up dazed and confused in a bed she had no idea who it belonged to wasn’t on her list of things to do this week. The shower was running in the other room, and when she buried her head back in the pillow it immediately began to come back to her.

The smell was cool and pine. Like a forest. A hint of cinnamon. It was the demon. The one she had been thinking about all week long, the one that had her feeling utterly conflicted. It went against everything she was as an angel to be romanticizing the creature so much, thinking about him in sinful ways. But she couldn’t help it.

It had to be fate that they’d met again last night. The night came back to her in flashes, wincing as she buried her face back into the pillow with a quiet groan. She wouldn’t ever live down the embarrassment she was feeling right now. It was just confusing.

Why did he help her? It wasn’t in a demon’s nature to be helpful, least nothing to an angel. That was the curious bit. Why would he feel inclined to help her out… unless he was perhaps feeling similarly to her?

No.

That was ridiculous, her mind was romanticizing a man who she didn’t know, who was a gosh darn demon! Why, she hadn’t a clue. But she knew that it would be better to have a Swift and simple goodbye after she thanked him for his deed.

She laid face down in his bed with her mind running rampant until she realized the shower had shut off, and she could feel a presence in the room. It had her skin prickling, feeling the eyes on her as she slowly turned around.

The air was nearly stolen from her lungs when she saw the being standing at the end of the bed. Dripping wet hair, towel loosely and very much too low. Pale skin covered in dark black swirls of ink from his collar bones and disappearing down to his hips. Both arms had designs, though the left was much more covered. He was built in a beautiful way, with broad vest and shoulders that dipped into a narrower waist. Larger biceps.

And his face?

His face.

She hadn’t seen it in daylight before, and there were sheer black curtains blocking out the clear lights but it was bright enough that she could see that she hadn’t been making up his beauty from arousal or inebriation. He truly was stunning.

Sharp cheekbones and jaw, strong nose and slightly wild brows. He had a hoop going through his lip and his mouth was a whole other topic. A dark pink that reminded her of wilting peonies in the best way. She didn’t even realize she was staring until she met his dark green eyes.

There was something about them. They weren’t expressing any clear emotion, but she felt them strongly. She wanted to squirm, but she also wanted to melt back into the mattress and spread her lush thighs. Let him crawl up the bed and shower her in a taste of that mouth and do dirty things, dark things that utterly terrified and aroused her to think about.

“H-Hi.” She squeaked, sitting up in the bed.

Harry stared at the disheveled angel, torn on what to do. After having slept (kind of) next to her all night- which realistically meant staring as her nose scrunched like a bunny when she had her dream or she kicked out her leg or pouted, he was a bit unsure how to feel.

Especially because she didn’t have a nightmare.

A common side effect of a sleepover with a demon, sexual or not was an intense nightmare. Demons made people face their biggest fears. He knew angels did get them too, so the face she looked so peaceful and serene all night and walking in to see her looking genuinely rested was a bit spooky.

Her wide eyed gaze made him want to take off the towel and drag her over by her hair, use her throat to make himself cum again. The shower hadn’t been enough. She was beautiful, deliciously sweet smelling and he wanted a bite. But that wasn’t an option.

Whatever this thing was of them doing the awkward song and dance was going to end.

“Are you going to go?” He asked bluntly, looking bored even though he was anything but. He could tell the cold tone had hit her when her tiny smile had dropped along with her whole face, eyes dripping to the blanket as her shoulders dropped.

And fuck if it didn’t feel like he had been kicked in the stomach.

That was something that wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to feel guilt when speaking or hurting the feelings of any angel. Even despite their charming ways, it wasn’t meant to bother him. So why did the sad look in her eye when she looked back up at him make him want to feed himself to the hellhounds?

“Y-yeah. I am. I just wanted to say thank you.” She said softly, standing up and slipping on the shoes Harry had gotten off of her. She had one of his tee shirts on top of her thin white dress, a dark black contrast to the angelic outfit she had been wearing.

“You didn’t have to help me. But I’m thankful you did.” She tried again, swallowing her pride… only to be shot down again.

“Yeah, well it won’t happen again. I shouldn’t have done that. If someone had seen me, my reputation would be squashed. No more coming to my club. Do you understand?” His tone biting and a bit like he was speaking to a naughty child.

Oh, he wanted to gouge his own eyes out when she hugged her arms around herself, physically seeing her confidence in front of him depleting.

Y/N didn’t get why it hurt. He was a demon and they always were mean. This Harry’s dismissed and rude words felt so much more personal though. So much more…. Biting. Aching. She felt like a kicked puppy and honestly? Looked like one.

When he heard the little sniffle again his stomach rolled like he was going to be sick, and his mouth dropped open to do something. Apologize maybe? He didn’t know. It was cut off with a nod and a fizz as she opened the door magically.

“Kay. I won’t bother you again, Harry.” She said quietly, heels clicking as she rushed out of the penthouse, dark hardwood he focus until she used her power to open the door again.

Then she was gone.

Why did they both feel empty??

[raineydays411]

Oh, what am I supposed to do without you

Loki x daughter!reader

Summary: Loki thought he was in a good place. He was married, happy and having a child. He should’ve known the universe wasn’t that kind.

A/N: God I’m so sorry about this one lol. Not much of the reader but I will be  making a second part. I hope yall like this one though. Inspiration came from “Mr, Loverman” and this fic.

Master list

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

The silence was rattling. It creeped into the room, slowly,menacingly. Threatening to make him go mad. It wrapped around his body like a familiar friend. Making it hard for him to breath as it suffocated him. He knew they were staring at him. Trying to figure out what he would do next, whether he would break or not. Truthfully he didn’t know what he would do. For now he just starred as well. Not at them, of course not. He stared at the one thing that mattered. His reason for waking up and living. The one person in this entire universe who gave his world color. He reached out to touch her. Touch the hands that were always so warm against his cold skin. Hands that held his firm and sure as she pulled him along behind her, a smile on her beautiful face. Hands that were now cold and limp, the radicant glow she had been known for gone dark. The colors she brought to his world dimmed to dull, gre, muted hues. Then a sound broke through the silence. two sounds actually. One a wail of new life, a baby taking her first breaths, and another. A wail of a man who has lost everything. A wail of agony and pain.

As the healers bustled around him, Loki had only one thought in his head. 

“What am I supposed to do without you”

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

Three months later and Loki still felt the emptiness left by his love. He heard her at night, humming sweet melodies as she stroked his hair. He hears her heartbeat as he eventually falls asleep, worn out by his constant tears. His room is in shambles, his clothes strewn about the floor, furniture smashed, everything is destroyed. Except for the things that belong to her. Her silk dresses that draped on her body perfectly were still hanging, untouched. The books she spent hours reading and re-reading remained on the shelf, collecting dust as they were no longer used. He doesn’t let anyone in their chambers. The space where they both shared. Space where they fought, made up, made love. To let someone else in would be tainting it. Soiling the memories they made together. That was one thing he could never do.

Another was look at the little monster who is responsible for this tragedy.

It was a girl. The daughter of one Loki Odinson and his beloved. 

Ironic. This child was supposed to bring happiness with its birth. Not even cleaned and it already managed to take away Loki’s light. He can barely stand looking at it. He tried, of course  he tried. But within minutes he had to call the nurse to take it away. Why? 

Because she has her mothers eyes.

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

“Loki”

“Get out”

“Loki, it's been nine months since your child was--”

“THAT THING IS NO CHILD OF MINE”

Frigga was taken aback. She knew her son was heartbroken, devastated at the loss of his wife. But to disown his daughter, that was something she didn’t see coming. 

“Loki, you are being unreasonable.”

“Unreasonable? My wife has died because if that creature--”

“It is a child. A babe who has no idea who her father nor her mother is.”

“And as far as I’m concerned she never will!” Loki shouts, finally looking up at his mother. 

Frigga heart breaks for her son. She sees the utter agony he is in, the inner torment going on in his soul. Even if she didn’t see it in his face, the state of his room and self gives it away. He looks like he hasn’t bathed in the nine months that has passed. His clothes were rumpled and wrinkled, hair unkempt and wild. His face was pale and hollow, as if he was only eating enough to survive. He had dark bags under his eyes that showed that he hasn’t been sleeping well.  He truly was a man who was broken, almost beyond repair. 

“My son” Frigga said carefully,” I can never understand the pain you are going through, I pray to Valhalla I will not have to anytime soon. But please if not for yourself or that child, for the memory of her, attempt to see your daughter before making a rash decision.” And with that, she walked out of his chamber, leaving Loki to the silence again as he stared at the spot his mother stood. considering her words, he got up. picked up his room, went to bathe and walked out of the room for the first time in nine months. 

His face held no emotion as he walked down the hallways. He saw the servants stop and stare at him, shock filled their face as they saw the prince. He glared at them, sending them scurrying at the dark glance. He reached the nursery, the maid who oversaw the nursery tried to stop him. 

“My lord, you--” 

“Where is the child.” He said, calm and cool. The maid looked at him in fear, not knowing how to respond. At her silence, Loki scoffed and pushed her away, marching into the nursery. Upon entering he froze, memories of him and his beloved discussing the design they wanted for their child

**“Darling, why does the color shade matter? It’s not like the child has expectations.”

Laughter fills the air, “Loki, we must put every effort into showing our child they are loved. That includes finding the perfect shade of green to go with the room”

Loki looks at his wife, gently smiling.”If you say so my dear”**

The room was perfect. The walls were a beautiful shade of green that allowed the light into the room. There were vines and flowers crawling up the walls and draped over curtains. A white and gold crib stood in the middle of the chamber. A veil draped over it, preventing Loki from seeing the child inside. He was thankful as he worked up the courage to walk up to it. He looked out the window, seeing the stars that covered the sky, the lights of Asgard covering the earth. 

She would have loved it.

He took a deep breath and walked toward the crib. He pulled back the veil only to see that there was no child in there. 

“The babe is with your mother my lord.”

He turned to the maid. Embarrassed that she might have witnessed him reminiscing.

“And where is my mother” He asked

“In-in the dining hal--” 

He walked away before she was able to finish her sentence. He took long strides to the hall, wondering his his mother had tricked him into eating with the family.On the way, he passed a window overlooking the garden. He thinks of the times where he used to sit in it and listen to her read.

***  “...exquisite, in question more. These happy masks that kiss fair ladies’ brows”

“My love, why do you insist on reading these midgardian stories?”

Her laughter  reaches his ears, “Because beloved, it's a different perspective to something familiar”

“Oh? and what is that ?” 

“Love”  ***

“oki--”

Hearing his name, Loki is brought back to present times once more. He looks to see Thor, watching him with careful eyes. 

“Brother, it is wonderful to see you.”

“I wish I can say the same.”

Thor laughs, a soft chuckle compared to the booming laughter Loki knows he is capable of. 

“Ah Loki, your dry wit has been missed”

Loki rolls his eyes and starts walking and Thor follows. The two walking in silence. 

“What is it like?” Loki says softly. Thor looks at him in confusion.

“It?” 

“The child.”

“Oh brother, Y/n is--”

“Y/n?” 

That was the name she wanted. If they were to have a girl. She was determined, seeing the name in the book she loved to read. He remembers when they were telling his family she was with child.

*** Everyone was seated, servants bustling around the long table. Laughter filled the hall as the sun was setting. 

“Loki, you said you had news to tell us” Frigga said, taking a sip of her wine. 

Loki smiled, looking at his wife. Her face absolutely radiant as she flashes a smile of pure joy.

“ Well,” Loki waits till Thor has taken a large swig of ale, “ My beloved and are are expecting a child.” 

Gasps fill the room as well as Thor's hacking, ale being spewed on the table. 

“Oh Loki that is wonderful!!”  Frigga exclaims standing from her seat to embrace him. “Oh my dear, this is the most wonderous news,” 

“BROTHER I can’t believe it!” Thor exclaims, lifting Loki in a crushing hug. And for once, he didn’t mind it.  He turns to her and hugs her more gently. “ You are just full of surprises aren’t you, starlight”

Laughter, “Thor, I thought I told you to stop calling me that”

Silence fills the hall as Odin clears his throat, “ Loki, you have made me proud.”

Loki smiles as his love beams at him. 

“Thank you father.”**

They reached the dining hall. A cold feeling formed in the pits of his stomach. He can see his mother, talking with a maid as she bounces the child. He can’t see it, as Frigga's back is turned to him. Odin’s presence is notably absent, a small relief on Loki's part. 

Thor notices his brother’s nerves, he pats him on the back and says, “You can do this Loki.” Then walks off to join his mother. He kisses his mothers cheek and smiles at the child. He picks her up, bouncing her a few times  prompting a small laugh. Loki gimances at the sound. 

Thor walks up to him with the baby. 

“Loki, this is Y/n Odinson”

He looks at the child. He takes in its features, Beautiful curly hair, already thick and voluminous even at this age. Brown skin, unblemished and clean. Cheeks, chubby with baby fat. And...its eyes. Those damn eyes, he could barely stand it, (e/c) eyes, the same as his lost love. In fact, almost all it’s features that once belonged to his darling. A pain filled his body. He really couldn’t stand looking at this child. 

Not when his beloved wasn’t there to gaze upon their child as well. 

No, this was not his child. Not anymore. 

“Get rid of it.” 

Shock filled the faces of both Thor and Frigga. 

“Loki you cannot be serious.”

“Brother..”

“I SAID GET RID OF IT” Loki shouts. “I DO NOT WANT TO SEE THAT LITTLE MONSTER.” 

And with that he leaves the dining hall. Leaving behind  his mother, brother and the last piece of his wife he had. He hears it’s cries fill the silence.

He had only one thought in his head as he entered his chambers.

“What am I supposed to do without you”

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

[elleclairez]

The Starless one and his star - Darkling x reader

Alina didn’t know what to do exactly. She sat silently in an armchair of her chambers in the Little Palace, her gaze focused on the figure of her worst enemy who decided that it would be a marvellous idea to torment her a little by playing tricks with her mind. 

The Starkov girl knew that the Darkling wasn’t really there, but it certainly did not ease her worries in any way at all. The man on the other hand, silently stood, watching young Grisha train with Botkin through the window. No one could guess what was going on inside his head. Saints even he didn’t know why he chose to pay a visit to his enemy. 

The silence in the room was heavy, almost unbearable for the young woman. She wanted to cry, shout and hit the man all at once and yet her body couldn’t move even a little. She was petrified and she couldn’t understand why. Was is fear? Hatred? Anger? Or was it something else stopping her from crying out for help or banishing the man from her mind herself?

The silence didn’t stop until the beautiful, silky voice of the Darkling resonated through the walls of the room.

“Have you ever heard of a young woman by the name of Seren Heijman?” Confusion flashed through Alina’s eyes. Seeing that the Shadow Summoner sighed and added “You might know her as the Star Saint. A bloody ridiculous name if you ask me.” The last sentence was muttered and Alina could barely hear it to properly decipher all the words. But as the words left the man’s mouth, the young Grisha suddenly had old memories of childhood stories crossing her mind. Alina could still remember the tales that Ana Kuya would tell them back at Keramzin. There was one story that Alina always adored, it was about a young, beautiful and selfless woman who chose death to save her comrades and the now long dead king. 

“All I remember is that she died sacrificing herself to save the king and her friends. Let me guess she was Grisha too?” Asked Alina with her brows furrowed. Why would the Darkling talk about Saints with her? 

“I always told you that those tales were propaganda for peasants. Seren was indeed Grisha, a powerful Inferni actually. And no, she did not sacrifice herself as everyone chose to believe. She was killed. Stabbed and left to die alone. Without anyone to save her or to at least be by her side when she would let go of her last breath.” Spat the Darkling with anger. Hatred could be deciphered from his eyes quite easily. It wasn’t hard to understand that this story was quite a sensitive topic for him, but Alina didn’t care. She was too curious as to why the man who was as heartless as a volcra would care so much about a mere woman and her unfortunate fate.

“You knew her didn’t you?” Carefully asked Alina too afraid of his reaction. The last thing she wanted was to anger her enemy. The Darkling chuckled.

“I did not know the martyr that people made of her against her will. I knew a young Kerch Inferni who was too good for this world.” And with those words, the Darkling pulled out a chain out of his pocket, and attached to it were two rings.

Two wedding bands. 

While at court Alina was able to see many jewels but all of them paled in comparison to the beauty of those. It was no doubt Materialki work.

The first was a man’s ring, quite simple, black with silver engravings on it, but it was the second one that caught her eye. A silver ring with black engravings that were too small to be read but big enough to be visible. On top of it, three diamonds were placed. Two were small, white ones looking like stars and the third one in the middle seemed to represent a full black moon.

At the realization, the Sun Summoner gasped.

“You...” Words couldn’t form themselves. Never in a million years could she have guessed that the most heartless man could actually be married. But most importantly it seemed that the marriages was based on love, a feeling that Alina thought the Darkling could not feel.

“Yes, Alina. We were married and loved each other dearly. She was the only one for who I was ready to give the world to on my knees but even more, she was the only one for whom I was ready to give it up. The moment she would have said it, I would have given up everything. The Second army, Ravka, everything.” The Darkling paused to take a breath, eyes full of sadness and grief. “What people say is true. She was everything any person would want to be. Intelligent, beautiful, sarcastic, a real firecracker if you ask me.” At that the Darkling laughed a little, memories seemed to flash in his eyes. “Loving, brave and selfless and yet selfish enough to dream of a peaceful life with me, away from all the fighting. She was the only one that I needed, and yet she was still taken from me.” At those words the man’s fists clenched, knuckles white from tension, his eyes full of hatred and yet still held the same sadness as before. Alina could even feel herself pitying the man.

“What happened?” Almost shakily whispered the raven haired woman. She knew asking that would be dangerous, but she wanted to know what happened.

“The ancestor of our so lovely King Alexander desired her with all his body and could not bear the idea that she chose to marry me and decline his advances. So he did what many Lantsov men did as it seems, he tried to take her by force. But my Seren was powerful, something that the bastard forgot, she burned him but was kind enough to simply leave burns on his hands. She hoped that he wouldn’t approach her from then on but that man, if you can call him a man, was vengeful, so he sent her to Fjerda on a mission, as he said. I was away the day she was sent away, and I only found out a few days later. The moment I received the news I rushed to Fjerda as fast as I could but when I arrived at her camp, it was too late. All I found was dead Ravkan soldiers both otkasatsya and Grisha and when I found her tent I already knew something was wrong, I felt somehow felt it. And there she was in her tent, laying on the ground, eyes blank, a single dried tear on her cheek, the spark that I used to adore in her beautiful orbs, gone. She laid there, on the floor, in a pool of her own blood and all I could do was to stand there, paralysed with this raging urge to destroy the monster who did that to her.” A deathly silence succumbed the room, Alina did not know what to say, and she became even more speechless when she saw a tear run down the Darkling’s cheek. He didn’t look so terrifying anymore but more like the young man that Baghra so desperately tried to save. “From that day I promised myself that I would avenge her. That I would take over Ravka and destroy every person who would think of hurting my and her people, of hurting Grisha people.”

“Make me your villain, Alina Starkov. But even you should see right now that I am not the villain but only the victim. The one who lost too much by the hands of others.” Alina didn’t know what to say, how could she respond after such story? Was she even supposed to respond? Was he even saying the truth? It wouldn’t be a surprising for her that the Darkling was simply playing tricks on her, again.

As if reading her mind, the Shadow Summoner said. “If you don’t believe me, there is proof in a secret drawer of my desk, well your desk now should I say, in the war room, go see for yourself.” At that the Darkling’s figure started to disappear, but Alina had one more question.

“Wait!” The Darkling looked at her expectantly. “I know not all tales are true, but some said that... she was...” She couldn’t bring herself to say it. Because if those stories were indeed true then the Darkling would be even less of a monster.

A dark chuckle left his mouth, he knew what she was trying to say. “We were going to name them Elizaveta if it were a girl or Piotr if a boy.” And with those words the man disappeared.

Alina didn’t even notice how tears escaped her eyes but a few minutes later she found herself in the war room, opening the same drawer that the Darkling talked about. 

It was a portrait. An old, small and dusty but still very well-kept one.

On it was painted a young couple, dressed in wedding attires, those same rings on their fingers. Smiles and eyes full of love, so bright that even the painting couldn’t dull the sparkle that they had while looking at each other.

At the bottom of the portrait Alina was able to decipher the writing.

            “Seren and Aleksander Morozova. The Starless One and the Star”

Hope you liked this angsty Aleksander x reader one-shot. Had this idea since I saw the trailer (which is INCREDIBLE by the way) and gotta be honest I literally wrote all of this during my philosophy class because it was better than falling asleep...

If you have a request don’t hesitate to send me a message. You can find all the fandoms I write for in my bio, but I warn you that it may take a little while for me to write it because I’ve been a lot of writer’s block lately....

Ps: Hello! This is me again from the future or present (depends on how you see it). Just wanted to say that I edited the story a little. Again English is not my native language, so there may be some mistakes that I’ve missed, do not hesitate to comment if you see one. Again I hope you enjoyed this story and if you did go check my other ones 😉

[l0vegl0wsinthedark]

Holding Hands

Just dipping my toe into the "faking a relationship for a holiday party" trope. (And blame @shealwaysreads for this cause she was like do it and so I did it.)

This is unbeta’d. Please be gentle with me.

*

Draco waited. The silence that had fallen a couple of minutes ago was still loud. The fire in the hearth kept spitting threateningly instead of just crackling quietly and sweetly like it should. The fairy lights around the tree twinkled gently, slowly, throwing golden patterns over Potter's skin, his dark hair.

They were sat across from each other in front of the hearth, Draco in his armchair upholstered in silver-grey velvet, and Potter in the plushy green armchair he had conjured when he'd arrived. Their drinks were sitting on the spindly-legged table between them.

Potter looked very politely confused, a tiny smile on his face, a thin line between his brows. He was leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, his long, strong fingers clasped together neatly, his full attention focused on Draco. He looked...like he was waiting for Draco to finish speaking, to...explain.

Draco licked his lips and tilted his head a bit. "Erm...?"

Potter's smile widened a bit. "Yes?" he said eagerly. Draco blinked and shook his head imperceptibly. Potter's confusion deepened. "I'm...waiting for you to...you know--" he waved his hand vaguely and then grinned, "--laugh," he finally said, a tad lamely.

Draco frowned. "What's funny?"

Potter's mouth fell open on a stupid gape. "I mean... I thought..." He pushed his glasses up his nose and then scratched the back of his neck. "So, what was it you were saying? What are you asking me?"

"Did you not hear me, or are you feigning stupidity?" Draco asked coldly.

Potter frowned, bristling a bit. "I heard you, Draco, and I feel like you're taking the mickey."

"I'm doing no such thing. I explained my predicament and asked you a simple yes or no question. Would you be so kind as to grace me with an answer?"

Potter shook his head irritably. "Stop talking like that!"

"Like what?"

"Like... Like a fucking ponce. That's how you used to speak to me." Draco just looked at him. "Can you just be normal, please?" Potter snapped.

Draco spread his hands out. "I am being normal."

"Uh huh." Potter was still frowning. "So, you're saying--" He broke off and shifted in his seat, straightening up. "So, you're saying..." Trailing off, he just sat there looking like a fucking idiot. "What are you saying?" he finally asked.

Draco picked up his brandy and took a sip before leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs, lifting his chin high. "Fine. I will ask you again. Since you're a bloody troglodyte, apparently." He had to gather the will and courage all over again to repeat himself. "Will you accompany me to my parents' Christmas party as my boyf- partner? Meaning, they'll think you're my partner. We’ll just have to pretend."

"You...said something before that earlier."

"Oh. Yes. Well, when my mother asked me if you and I are lovers, after she read that article about us in the Prophet, I simply said yes." He'd managed to say it without displaying any emotion the first time. Now, however, Draco could feel heat rising up his neck and face.

Potter was looking particularly stupid as he stared with his mouth open. "Your parents think we're dating?" Draco nodded. "And they want to...meet me?"

Draco brushed imaginary lint off his trousers. "If you consent."

Potter leaned back, slumping in his chair, knees spreading, his arms hanging over the sides of the chair. He blew out a long breath with a whooshing sound, his lips very pink as they formed an 'o'. Then, rather abruptly, he chuckled, rubbing his face and making his glasses jump onto his forehead.

"Which bit did you find amusing?" asked Draco with feigned politeness.

"The whole thing."

"Oh?"

"Draco," Potter said on a laugh, "can you stop talking like that, please? It's fucking hilarious right now. Especially because that's not how one talks to their 'lover'."

Draco knew he was probably purple in the face by now. It was embarrassing. He ought to have told Potter right after he'd confirmed the rumours to his parents. They'd have laughed about it, and then asking him to go to this fucking party now wouldn't be such a fucking task.

Because they're friends. Close friends even. And Potter was probably going to say yes. He never denied Draco anything. He was always indulging Draco; taking care of Draco. Siding with Draco when that fucking Weasel ragged him. Always promoting Draco's label in his interviews, endorsing his little boutique. Trusting Draco enough let him dress him for important events even though Draco knew Potter had the most basic, unadventurous sense of fashion.

Draco wanted to roll his eyes. Potter was the softest, most indulgent person and he was probably going to say yes. But that didn't make any of this any easier. Because obviously Potter thought it was funny that the two of them might be lovers. He found this whole thing really amusing.

There was a thin strain of hurt somewhere in Draco's chest but he ignored it.

"So how long before you say yes like we both know you're going to?" Draco drawled.

Potter grinned widely. "What am I going to be wearing?"

*

The Manor was an absolute wonder to behold. Draco was sure even Hogwarts was never this heavily decorated for the holidays. Fairy lights, glittering icicles, ice sculptures, wreaths, ostentatiously decorated Christmas trees, more lights - the whole house, inside and out, was dripping in red, green, gold and white.

Potter stared around in silence, his expression very serious. He was dutifully holding Draco's hand (just like a lover might) and was taking in the sight of the gigantic ballroom they were in, guests milling about sipping golden champagne from crystal flutes, house-elves trotting around between people's knees holding up trays of hors d'oeuvres; the four gigantic, glittering Christmas trees in each corner of the room, the ice sculpture of a delicately carved fairy, her wings spread, in the centre of the room, sparkling fairy dust falling from her hand and disappearing mid-air.

To Draco this was just about normal, if a tad bit overdone (for the enjoyment of the guest of honour he'd brought along with him, he supposed), but he still blushed in embarrassment when he looked around with Potter's eyes; he was probably convinced now that his parents were pretentious or something. Feeling a bit timid, he glanced sideways at Potter.

He was looking very, very handsome tonight. He had on robes of deep, royal violet - dark enough to nearly pass off as black - with intricate gold embroidery that Draco had spent hours working on himself. He'd let Draco clip a matching cape, embroidered and lined along the hem with fur, onto his shoulders with matching brooches that glittered under the light of what had to be at least a thousand candles hovering above them. He'd made a decent attempt at taming his hair - not a successful attempt, but Draco gave him credit for trying anyway. He'd switched his usual clunky glasses out for the vision correcting spells that Draco knew he hated but it meant his eyes were shining so bright and green that it made Draco's stomach clench a bit with something he’d always staunchly ignored.

Then, his parents spotted them. Lucius was in black as usual - the material expensive, but still black - and Narcissa looked decades younger than she was in robes of pale lavender and silver. Draco smiled as she beamed at them, gliding over alongside her husband.

"Darling." She feathered her lips over Draco's cheek. "Fashionably late, I see. And fashionably dressed," she added, turning to Potter and holding out her hand, her smile small but her eyes warm.

Potter bent over her hand and brushed his lips over the back of her hand briefly - just like Draco had instructed him to - before straightening up and smiling politely. "Thank you for inviting me to your wonderful party, Mrs. Malfoy."

"You are very welcome - literally. And please call me Narcissa."

Lucius had watched and listened in silence, his hands clasped behind his back, his serious gaze fixed on Potter. When Narcissa stepped back, he slowly extended a hand to Potter.

Draco held his breath. They hadn't discussed this. He had no idea how Potter was about to behave with his father but he knew he wouldn't blame him for anything he said or did. Potter was a much better man than his father. This was fact.

But Potter simply shook hands with Lucius and nodded. Draco felt his shoulders relax.

They mingled. Draco had to repeatedly 'introduce' Potter to people as though they all didn't already know who he was, who his fucking parents were. It was laughable. But this was a stupid fucking formal Pureblood soirée and Draco still had his manners. What surprised him was how well-mannered Potter was being.

Potter was also being very loyal to his role as Draco's partner.

"He was such a little terror as a child, bless his heart," said some old crone, patting Draco's cheek with one wrinkled hand. Draco wanted to hiss at her like a cat.

"Aren't we all, at that age?" Potter said calmly, smiling.

"Oh, you're very dedicated to him, I see" she simpered. "Such a pleasure to see. You hardly ever find this in you youngsters these days."

"He doesn't give me much reason not to be dedicated to him."

Potter was still holding his hand.

"Draco doesn't tell us anything about how the two of you put your rather unhappy history aside in order to accept your...softer feelings for each other." Narcissa looked like she'd been bursting to ask Potter this all evening; she'd finally gotten a chance now that she was done making the obligatory rounds amongst her guests.

Potter looked at him, and Draco, his face hot, returned his gaze, trying to apologise wordlessly. But Potter just grinned.

"Well, I don't know about him but," Potter smiled down at Narcissa, looking handsome and charming and, well, fuck, "it was just a natural, automatic thing for me, really. The more I got to know the real Draco Malfoy the deeper I fell in love with him."

Draco felt his eyes widen a bit. He wanted to look at Potter to figure him out, to try and discern just how much he was bullshitting. He wanted to read Potter because Potter was supremely easy to read. The man wore his heart on his sleeve. Draco could always tell, just from one glance, the kind of mood Potter was in.

Trying to appear casual, like Potter hadn't said anything that made Draco's breath catch, Draco looked sideways at him. Potter was smiling, his eyes honest and soft and crinkled at the corners. He was nodding along to something Narcissa was saying.

And he was still holding Draco's hand.

"Very well done," Draco muttered, once his mother had wandered away into the crowd.

Potter smiled and squeezed his hand. "You said you'd give me a tour of the gardens," he said. Draco nodded and led him out.

They strolled in a leisurely manner. It was snowing but there were charms in place which meant that the snow never actually touched them, instead disappearing about a foot over their heads. The gardens were decorated too, lights twinkling everywhere, lighting up the paths.

"This must've been a great place to grow up," Potter eventually said.

They turned the corner and in the distance was the turret-shaped gazebo, hung with white-gold lights. Narcissa, when the weather permitted, loved to paint in the gazebo. Draco smiled.

"It was." Then, guiltily, "I mean... I don't mean to brag or any--"

Potter laughed. It was a low, deep, familiar sound that made Draco break out in gooseflesh.

"Draco," he said gently. "You don't have to feel guilty every time you talk to me about your childhood."

Draco lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "'m not guilty," he mumbled.

"No? You're still that insufferable, obnoxious little shit you were in school?"

Draco actually felt his face fall. He turned to Potter, unbothered about sounding vulnerable. "That's what you thought of me?"

Potter laughed. "Can you blame me? Do you remember you back at school?"

Draco slumped a little. "I suppose." They were nearly at the gazebo now. Together, they turned onto the path that led to the steps leading into it. Then, "That's...not what you think of me now, is it?"

"Draco," Potter's voice was gentle, yet teasing, "Everyone thinks you're a prat. You have to know this."

"Yes, but you?" They climbed the two steps and walked into the gazebo.

"I think you're a prat too." They were still holding hands. "But you're my prat."

Draco turned to look at him but Potter, with a sharp yank, was pulling Draco to himself. With a soft 'oof', Draco hit Potter's chest. Now they were holding both hands.

He quickly pulled himself together although Potter could probably feel his heart galloping in his chest. "Am I, now?"

"Isn't that what we've just spent the last hour and a half proving to people?"

"Well," Draco said slowly, "I was under the impression that it was an act."

"Well," Potter said quietly. "I'd rather it...be real."

They were standing pressed together in the centre of the gazebo, fairy lights surrounding them, Potter's green, green eyes reflecting them as he stared intensely at Draco. He looked like he was challenging Draco, like he was daring Draco to laugh in his face and carelessly brush aside what he'd said. Because that's what Draco Malfoy would do when Harry Potter declared something like that, right? He'd stomp on Harry Potter's proffered heart and revel in it.

Draco couldn't even imagine doing something like that. Especially not when Potter was holding his hands and smelt so good and looked at him like he was promising him so, so many things.

"You were very convincing tonight," said Draco.

"It was really easy," said Potter.

"You held my hand throughout."

"I wasn't about to give up the chance I had."

"Thank you for coming with me tonight."

"I wasn't about to give up the chance I had."

"Potter?"

"Shouldn't you be calling me Harry if we're together?"

"Would you like that?"

"I would love that, Draco."

"You've called me Draco for years now."

"I have."

Draco looked down at the lines of gold thread on Harry's chest, gleaming against the violet silk. "I think I'd like to call you Harry," he admitted.

When his gaze lifted back to Harry's, he was smiling at Draco. Then he looked up above them.

"Mistletoe," Harry said simply.

Draco's ears were ringing as though he'd been struck.

"Oh," he said, his voice quavering.

Harry just smiled again, and slowly let his head drop forward so that their foreheads touched. Then he brought his mouth up to Draco's brow and kissed it.

"Oh," repeated Draco.

They were just gazing at one another now.

Damn it, thought Draco as he broke first and kissed Harry full on the mouth.

They were still holding hands.

*

[greycaelum]

Jujutsu Kaisen: Gojo Satoru X OC [Yotsuba Shina]

(Four Leaves & Five Streets Mafia/Yakuza AU Series)

[Summary: Entanglement with Gojo Satoru, scion of another influential Yakuza group proves to only bring bring destruction and chaos to Doctor Yotsuba Shina's life. What if the menace proves to persistently worm his way to her life? When all she ever wanted was peace his chaos embraced her.]

[Tags & Warnings: mild injury]

[Notes: word count: 4k]

Chapter 3

[Kyushu, Fukouka Prefecture, Yotsuba Estate]

Seeing me standing on the edge of the pond my koi fishes surface from the waters huddling together as if greeting me. This backyard garden pond is filled of koi fishes I personally bought and collected since I was a kid, the garden is hid away from spectators surrounded by typical plants of a Japanese garden with hydrangeas and clover patches laid over the ground with the small pavilion for leisure.

After I was discharged Chichiue had Kento-kun transport me from Tokyo to go home here in Fukuoka in our ancestral home where I did nothing but eat, sleep, stroll my private garden, and again and again. Hahaue kept me company on days but today she had to attend a meeting that leaves me here in the house. It's a bit too quiet for my liking unlike my busy days in the hospital.

Crouching down my hands dip to the waters as the koi fishes swim past my hand leaving a tickling slippery sensation.

"You guys have it great, no worries and just swimming freely."

I wonder when will that happen to me too. No worries and free... As long as I have a connection to the yakuza I will never be free. 

"Frowning doesn't suit you."

I jump in surprise losing my footing, slipping  to the waters but my shirt is pulled back dragging me away from the edge of the pond to the stable ground.

"Can't have you splashing like a fish now, can we?"

Who dares invade my private place? I turn glaring to the owner of the voice. If he didn't surprise me I wouldn't had slipped.

"Who's fault-"

I look up to the towering white-haired man in glasses and pristine white suit smirking at me. What is he doing here? My throat constricted with my blood running cold. Is this for real? Can he recognize me? Why is the nail to my coffin strolling freely in my very backyard?

His dark glasses slid down the bridge of his perfectly angled nose granting me the chance to stare at the iridescent shade of his bright blue eyes. He looks so mature and... alive.

"Gojo Satoru, how are you Milady?" he extended his hand with amicable smile flashed to me.

Does he know? Is this why he's here because he found out? That can't be it, I erased my involvement in the papers and oh kami. Why did he suddenly appear in my own house? My thoughts are racing and my heart pounding just as hard as my head starting to ache. What if he already talked to my Chichiue? If ever my father finds out... I don't know what will happen to me.

"Are you sick? You look pale." He ushered me to the stone table, helping me sit down.

 "I-I'm fine, thank you." I just have to bite the bullet. I stare back at him giving me a strange look assessing me with his penetrating gaze. What's with him?...

"W-what?" Don't stutter Shina!

"You're welcome." He grinned, he made himself comfortable sitting across the table with eyes solely focused to me making me squirm under the uncomfortable gaze.

"So you're Miss Fine huh?" He started.

"What?" I frown at him.

"What, what?" He returned, grinning as if enjoying my little dilemma.

Am I missing something here?

"How's your wound?" He shifted the topic. My brows raise at him reaching in his inner pockets producing a lollipop, peeling off the wrapper he popped it to his mouth.

Is this guy really the master of the largest yakuza group in the country? Normal people don't carry lollipop around, do they? But he's that Gojo Satoru, he can't be 'normal'.

"Did I suddenly became famous that everyone knows I'm wounded?" 

"Hmmm kind of," he shrug and pulled out another lollipop from his pocket giving it to me. "Here, I'll give you, you're looking at me like any moment you'll pounce on my lollipop." He laughed.

"W-what? I do not!" Did I look like that?

"Yes you do~"

"Do not."

"You do~"

 "Are you really that Gojo Satoru of Rikugan? Because you're acting like a kid."

"Say the lady who didn't even tell me her name. But, yep Gojo Satoru at your service. Take the candy before I change my mind." His gloved hand skillfully peeled off the wrapped confectionary he gave me earlier.

"You said i-"

Ball of sugary lemon invaded my lips and flooded my taste buds with saccharine flavor, looking down his gloved hand is holding the stick of the candy inserted in my mouth.

"Good girl~" He lean forward patting my head and grinned.

Heat shot to my head swatting away his hand ruffling my hair. The nerve! What's his deal? 

"Are you mocking me?"

"A girl like you should stop frowning it doesn't suit you Milady." he commented accentuating the addressing of honorific and subtly smile.

"I am not your lady." I don't like the sound of that word coming out from his mouth. It makes me uneasy...

He smiled. This is really Gojo Satoru right? Surely, he's just being nice to me to avoid conflict.

Oh that's right. I didn't properly introduce myself. 

"Yotsuba Shi-,"

"Shina!"

Someone cut me off yelling my name. I look back to the engawa and Sukuna holding bento boxes with Aniue beside him walk up to us. The pleasant relaxed face Gojo had talking to me is replaced with narrowed eyes and taunting smirk on his peachy lips.

"Sukuna, Haku Aniue," I greeted but they didn't pay me heed placing themselves before me totally blocking Gojo from my sight.

"My sister is resting Satoru-san, it would be best if you don't do anything that will affect her." Aniue look back to me and to Satoru.

"Aniue we were just talking." They just misunderstood it.

"Uh-huh? We were just getting to know each other Haku-san." Gojo added.

"I brought you bento from Yuuji, let's go inside." Sukuna tug me  raising his head to the house.

"But he didn't—" I look up to Sukuna for explanation.

"Little Girl, do you know who he is? That man is Gojo Satoru—the very reason the Emperor is ill now." He guided me in the house leaving Gojo and Haku Aniue alone.

The bloody figure of him when we first time is enough proof of what he does for living. Of course, a spade will always be a spade.

I remove the lollipop stuck in my mouth a little dismayed from the lost of taste. I'm right after all. Gojo Satoru will always be Gojo Satoru—the very man on top of the yakuza standing. I shouldn't let myself be swayed by this short domestic part of him because it doesn't change a part of what and who he is.

"Milady!" A shout from the garden stop me and Sukuna.

I look back and saw Satoru staring at us.

"We'll see again very soon." Curtly he nod to me with a smile that faded to a vexing smirk directed to Sukuna.

"You shouldn't get too close with an unmarried lady Sukuna. You won't like it when she leaves for her man."

That's not a nice way to out it. I'm ready to defend my friend but Sukuna pulled me back and clutched my wrist with eyes warning me to back down. Placing me behind his wide expanse Sukuna answered Gojo in the same jeering manner.

"I prefer my life in one goal, you should mind your business before your whores slip something underneath you Gojo."

Sukuna didn't wait and lead me to the inner drawing room of the house. I didn't have a chance to see a glimpse of Gojo anymore.

Sukuna release the first three buttons of his shirt and huff a breathe, looking at me with lazy eyes.

"Did his fingers lay in you?" He grumbled.

"I don't like your tone, continue that I will punch you."

Sitting on the cushion and opening the bento boxes I smiled at the neatly packed sandwiches and Yuuji's specialty—meatballs. There's even a small letter.

'Shina-san, thank you for the vitamins last time, get well soon so we can have hot pot when you're better, (つ≧▽≦)つ

—Yuuji,'

That kid, he definitely took after Jin. I smiled remembering the old pal. I folded the paper and slip it in my pocket.

"You think you can land a hit on me? Quit daydreaming Little Girl, you're hundred years early."

"Uh-huh, your bones are getting rickety every year Uncle," I stuck my tongue to Sukuna who made a deadpan face.

"We just talked and he asked how am I. He's not obtuse to seek fight, this is not his territory."

Honestly I totally forgot about my caution around Gojo. He's easy to get along with. Who would think a man like him is walking around carrying lollipops? The lemony taste is still swirling in my tongue. In the end, I didn't got any idea if he knew anything about the surgery. He's too vague and nonchalant, as expected of someone handling the Rikugan.

Still, what was he doing here?  Aniue doesn't seem to know the reason base from his reaction earlier. No one told me we're having a visitor, not to mention the devil himself coming personally.

"...the Zen'ins. Hey are you listening?" Sukuna flicked my forehead drawing me out of my trance.

"What?" He was talking to me?

"I said, stay out of the yakuzas eyes for now. The Yotsuba just lay low from sabotaging the Zen'ins."

"Did you join in?" I'm not forgetting the bullet was supposed to be for him.

"What do you think?"

I stare at his snarky grin and sighed. Now that I look closely there's a new scar

"I was stupid to ask."

Of course he did. Sukuna may seem to be tamer around me but it also doesn't change the fact he's just as dangerous as Gojo Satoru.

"Enough of that, the brat cooked this for you, eat."

By all means when this burly man says 'brat' it would be Yuuji. I remove the lid inside colorful sandwiches arranged neatly and another box set aside for meat balls.

I chuckled remembering a memory where Yuuji for some reason managed to make Sukuna volunteer cooking with us. No matter how this lazy uncle roll the meat it never formed to a ball all but deformed and tortured meat crumbs came out.

"I thought you said this is mine?" I frown at his hand picking the sandwich devouring the bread.

"As if you could finish that three bento stack alone. When are you going back to work?"

"The day after tomorrow, I have a surgery waiting for me."

"Isn't that too early?"

"It's not like I can tell patients to wait when they're dying." I rolled my eyes.

"Will Hana agree?"

"She doesn't have a choice."

"Hana coddles you a lot, it's gonna take you a lot of convincing to let you go back to work."

"I'm not a kid!"

"Tell that to my face when you're not holding a fucking lollipop. Where did you get that?" He laugh at me eyeing the stick on my hand.

Shit! I totally forgot I'm still holding the candy from Gojo Satoru. I'm not a kid... I purse my lips and bite on the sandwich. The crisp of lettuce with the sweet and little sour fresh cherry tomatoes complementing the ham flooded my taste buds overlaying the sweet sugar earlier, my stomach just now realized I am actually really hungry.

"Just so you know, I saved your life." Shrugging my arms I look up to Sukuna raising his brows at me.

"Yeah? What do you want?"

"About that..."

"If ever you need anything don't hesitate to call me," she hug me one last time and I return the same tight embrace.

"I'll be back soon, it's yours and Chichiue's anniversary and I won't miss it, I promise." My eyes landed to my mother's personal bodyguard—Kasumi Miwa. She nod at me with full vigor.

I turn to my father. His gray formal kimono complimented his straight posture with the stoic face Haku Aniue inherited from him. If there is one thing I learned from this man is to keep a straight face no matter the situation, and never let anyone know what you're thinking or else they will use it against you.

"You need to come in your mother and mine's anniversary. Understood?"

"Understood Chichiue."

My father called out one of the most trusted men in the clan and one of the close to me.

"Kento, make sure she's safe."

The blond in his neat as always suit and tie stood forward and answered to my father.

"Everything is ready Shinzo-sama."

I followed Kento-kun to the airstair leading up the eye-catching white golden streak private jet owned by our family. It's what I usually use going back and forth from my job in Tokyo to Fukouka. The sofa beside the porthole has been my long time friend over the years, plopping down to the velvety soft comfort I watch as the airport grew smaller as the jet ascend.

"Welcome back, I'm bored without you."

Large bouquet of purple and blue hydrangeas adorned the office Shoko and I share. I just got back from the operating theatre after performing consecutive appendectomy and colostomy surgery.

"Did I miss something? You didn't tell me you're planning to open a flower shop." I went to my desk and notice letters on top. Uh... Seriously did I forget something? Like a holiday? Shoko walk over to my desk.

"Your patients gave those to you after knowing you're coming back today. Those flowers are from unknown sender."

I scan over the letters and most of them are get well soon and I miss you letters.

"You look happy."

I look up to Shoko. I cant stop my lips from stretching to a smile. I don't accept gifts from my patients, most doctors don't, to avoid our feelings to influence the care we provide or but there's no way I can say no to this kind of thoughtfulness.

In this kind of demanding job where we desperately save people we barely know, a simple thank you is more than enough.

"Shoko about last time what did you wanted to tell me?"

"Ah, good you reminded me. I was going to tell you Satoru is coming home." She stopped typing and face me from her desk.

"What does that got to do with me?" Frown form on my face, why would Shoko bring this up out of nowhere?

"He asked about the medical f—"

Several knocks followed by opening of the door interrupted Shoko. A tall man in neat black suit, his long hair pulled to a half bun and the signature black piercing on his ear.

"Yoh, I brought you guys lunch." Suguru-san smiled presenting the bento boxes to us.

That was a close call. I heave a sharp breath, caught off guard of the sudden appearance. He couldn't have pick the best time to come, I almost spill accidentally. Shoko also look at me with widened eyes.

"Suguru-san, diligent as always I see," I check my watch and realise it is time for lunch.

"Glad to see you back Shina-san."

Suguru smiled and set the bento boxes on the coffee table. If there's something I would admire with Geto Suguru is his consistency and perseverance over the years in bringing lunch to Shoko and always being thoughtful to add me along—best friends are the third wheels/chaperones/advisers of each other.

"Pshh, we both know you've been enjoying hanging around here alone with Shoko while I'm not around." I teased making him sheepishly laugh and Shoko rolling her eyes at me.

The three of us share the lavish meal on the coffee table with small talks.

"You haven't drop by for few months, I was wondering if Shoko turned you down officially."

"Don't say it like that Shina-san," Suguru laughed stacking Shoko's bento with assorted side dishes that it's already forming a small mountain until Shoko swat his chopsticks and glared.

"Isn't that normal already?" Shoko added.

"What do you mean?"

"The turn down thing. Even if I already told him to piss off, look he's still here." Shoko shrug.

Well that's true. It's not the first time Shoko turned this guy down. At that point I can see the principle of Yakuza 'gaman' to have patience.

"I was in a business trip with Satoru in China. Now that you mentioned it. Satoru told me he met you, you almost jump to the fish pond."

What?!

"I know you're obsessed with your koi fishes but that's not right to jump in with them." Shoko further added.

"Excuse me! I wasn't, alright? He popped out of nowhere and I slipped that's it." I swear that man, is a walking headache!

"Suguru-san, just a pure curious question. Why are you staying beside Gojo-san?"

"Now that you ask. Satoru is too random even for me I can't really understood how his brain work but he's the kind of man who will do whatever he needs to get the job done. Mah, you'll know about it in the near future."

No thank you, I don't plan involving myself with him.

"How about his most unlikeable trait?" I bet it's being whimsical.

"Annoying megaphone." Shoko said.

"Snack stealer."

"He's always late if I don't drag him away from the kitchen."

"He wakes up 2 am just to have a drive thru in KFC—for a fucking one piece chicken."

Why do I feel Suguru is turned babysitter? Man sure has gone through a lot looking out for Gojo.

"But if there's one thing you'll love and hate about Satoru is when he sets his mind, you could never bend his resolve." A profound smile found itself on Suguru-san's lips thinking of his friend.

I could guess so. He is a man holding the largest gang in Japan. The fact he could still fool around like a normal person makes me a little uneasy and at the same time just a little bit admire his sense of humour.

"Dr Yotsuba Shina, you are needed in Emergency Room 4."

The paging from nurse desk echoed.

"Thank you for the wonderful meal Suguru-san, I'll go ahead duty calls."

The nurse came rushing to me in bated breath.

"You okay?"

"Yes, yes! But please hurry the patient is requesting for you."

Quickening my pace I turn to the Emergency Department.

"How grave is the injury?"

"About that... Uh..." The nurse fidgeted unsure what to answer.

"We'll, it's not grave but he's looking for you and refusing treatment."

What kind of patient refuses treatment in emergency? Shaking my head and enter the emergency room but two bodyguards—the unmistakable tattoos etched in their skins put up their hands halting me. I'm not liking this... Is it a Yakuza boss?

"Dr Yotsuba Shina, move out." Showing them my ID they finally opened the door.

"Yah, long time no see, I've been waiting Dr Shina."

Another troublesome fellow. His tame blonde hair contradicts the sly curve of his eyes and innocent smile.

"Please call me Dr Yotsuba, Zen'in-san. Do you know it's irresponsible of you to refuse treatment?"

I read through the medical examination prepared by the nurse. He's got a 1/4 inch laceration.

"How cold, I even sent you flowers."

That bouquet...

"One of the defected men in our gang hit you. Although he's not one of our men anymore were indirectly the reason he shot Sukuna."

What flowery words. I left him to put on my scrub.

"I won't get treated unless it's you." When I came back he's still not in anaesthesia, refusing the nurse.

"I'll take it from here." I let the confused nurse leave.

"You're not going to ask why I keep insisting it should be you? No need for anaesthesia, I can handle the pain" He peered up.

"I'm not interested."

"Humour me."

I sighed and start stitching him. He flinched but I could guess his pain tolerance is high.

"Why?"

"Because I trust you."

"Thank you." Dryly I answered.

Focusing on the wound I cut the suture.

"Oh! That was fast. As for the reason I trust yo—"

"You won't risk getting slip underneath by your enemy. I'm a Yakuza's daughter but at the same time a doctor. In this deceiving place your best bet that would never endanger you is me. Why? Because if I mess up you could use it as an excuse to erase the debt your clansmen did to me and start a fight with my clan. Correct?"

I met his widened eyes that quickly slip back to the lazy slits and smiled.

"Such a smart lady."

"As for the flowers. You have nothing to apologize unless you're the one who pulled the trigger. And I'm not interested in knowing any more of Yakuza." Blue hydrangea for apology and purple to get to know the person better.

"Touché,"

"If that's all, you're free to go. The suture is absorbable there's no need for you to come back and have them removed. Wash around the site 1 to 2 times daily with cool water and soap. Dab the site dry with a clean paper towel. Do not rub the area. Avoid using the towel directly on the stitches."

I left him and directed the nurse what's left. Opening the door I was greeted by Suguru-san face to face with the bodyguards of Zen-in.

"Suguru-san?"

Their stare off ended and Suguru-san smiled at me.

"Satoru told me to give you this." Reaching in the bento box he's holding, he produce lots of lollipops, not to mention how suspiciously familiar the lemon wrappers are.

"Satoru heard you work with Shoko and told me to bring you this. A present he said."

That guy, just how random can he get?

"I don't really accept presents—" politely I refuse.

"Just accept it, before he send you rainbow worms instead." Suguru-san urged.

Rainbow worm? What the heck, it sounds like some kind of abnormal parasite.

"Then please give this to him as my thank you," from the inner pocket of my lab coat I pulled out a strip of vitamins I always carry out of habit and gave it to Suguru-san's waiting hand.

The door opened and I felt the cold temperature of the hospital drop even more.

"Oh, Suguru-san. Is your master alright without you babysitting him?" Zen'in Naoya smirked like the fox he is.

"Naoya-san, fancy seeing you here. It seems it's your babysitters who fail to look after you, getting yourself hurt." Suguru-san shrugged

This can't be, I need to stop them from causing any ruckus that will disturb the patient's.

"Well, I'll get going first Shina-san, I'll see you around." With hands tucked in his pockets Suguru-san bid me farewell.

"Shina-san huh?"

"Shin, remember the thing we're talking about before Suguru came?" Shoko came in the office holding her files.

"Oh yes, what about it?"

"Do you know where's Satoru's medical record, the one years ago?"

"It should be at Fukouka, why?"

Why bring this up all of a sudden? That case is long forgotten...

"Satoru asked me about it. But when I called in the general hospital they told me it was forwarded here. You didn't asked for it?"

Huh? I shake my head and frown.

"Why would I? I didn't ask for it."

"Then... Who would?" Shoko also frowned.

"Did he come to the hospital?" It seems Satoru knows something. Did he remember anything about that day?

That time he escaped after waking up. I had Nanami follow him and Shoko call Suguru to pick the man up. We didn't meet in his right consciousness.

"Satoru doesn't go to the hospital. I always come to his office to treat and check him up."

Then why? More importantly who?

Another knock interrupted us and the nurse came in looking for me.

"Dr Yotsuba, Director Kenjaku asked for you to come in his office."

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

Check out the 4L&5S Series Masterlist for more.

All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned, image(s) and song(s) used belong to their respective owner(s).

4L&5S Series Taglist: @ice-icebaby @wobblewobble822 @descargueestoporgojosatoru @dlb113

|| Chapter 4 ||

[stanknotstark]

Summary: Loki is a vampire and doesn’t appear in mirrors for that reason. You hit him with your car.

You’re stressed out and tired from the long day you had at work, or rather your old job since they decided to lay you off. So, when you get into your car, check all your mirrors, and back out fast because you don’t see anyone, you don’t expect to hear a thud and feel your car lurch. 

You gasp with wide eyes looking into your rearview mirror. You swallow the lump in your throat and nearly start crying. Today was not your day at all. 

You put the car in park and get out in a rush. Walking towards the back of the car you see a handsome man getting up. 

You hit a person. 

No one was in the mirror!

Where did he even come from? 

“I’m so sorry!” You say with tears falling down your face, a hand coming up to cover your mouth. 

The man looks at you quickly, a concerned frown marring his beautiful face as he rises. 

You take in his looks for a second. He has incredibly pale skin, thin pink lips, an acute nose, sharp cheekbones, and bright green eyes. 

“I am fine, you'd be surprised, it runs in the family.” The man says stepping near you, a hand raised but hesitating to touch you as you cry into your hand. You slightly frown at his remark but it's not enough to fully distract you.

You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and drop your hand. When you’re settled down enough you talk, looking at him.

“I’m sorry I’m having a really bad day. Are you ok? Do I need to call for an ambulance or anything?” You ask looking him over and seeing nothing wrong but you can never be sure. 

The man smirks, he makes a decision and settles his hand on your shoulder. 

“I am fine. Do not worry. I’m more concerned about you, darling.” 

You give a shaky laugh. “I just hit you with my car and you’re concerned about me? Your priorities are a little messed up I think.” You say as you wipe your tears away.

The man lets out a soft laugh that makes butterflies flutter in your stomach. You just happen to see his pearly white teeth flash, two sharp canines but you think nothing of it. 

“Perhaps you can help me rearrange my priorities over a cup of coffee?” The man asks you.

You blush, look down at the ground nervous, but look back at him with a smile. “I would love that. What’s your name?” You ask. 

“Loki.” Loki tells you, letting his hand fall from your shoulder. 

You tell him your name and he says it as if getting used to it on his tongue. 

“Well, I know of a good cafe nearby we could meet at.” Loki tells you.

“Of course, I’ll follow you.” You tell him. 

You’re shocked as Loki grabs your hand and kisses your knuckles.

“I cannot wait to learn more about who you are.” Loki whispers over your knuckles then releases your hand and makes his way to his car. 

You stand there with a smile on your face but quickly jump into your car to follow Loki.

The next time you realize you don’t see Loki in the mirror is months into dating the man. 

You’re at his house, which is sparse of mirrors for some reason. So you pull your compact mirror out and check your make up. 

You open you mouth to yell Loki’s name and turn around to walk to the door since you didn’t see him behind you. 

“Lok-” You grunt when you run straight into Loki’s chest and Loki grabs at your arms before you can fall backwards. Your mirror drops and splinters into shards on the floor.

You look up at Loki shocked. “I didn’t see you, I’m sorry.” 

Loki chuckles. “It is completely fine, darling. I shall buy you another mirror, my apologies.” 

The third time is when you truly notice. After the second time you decided to test your theory out without Loki knowing. It doesn’t go as planned but makes you realize something is wrong.

“Loki! I need a new mirror for my house can we go in here?” You ask as you both pass a Pier 1 Imports store. 

Loki looks at you with a small smile but his eyes try to hide some emotion you haven’t seen before. “You may go in, there’s a shop I need to go to before it closes, we can meet back at the car?” Loki says, leaning down to kiss you when you nod at him. 

You watch as Loki walks away from you and as he passes the mirrors in the store’s display windows you realize his figure doesn’t appear in them. It’s as if no one had walked by at all. You squint at him but go into the store and wander around for a bit thinking since you don’t actually need a mirror. 

There’s only one theory you know of that explains why he wouldn’t show up in mirrors. 

All of a sudden you snicker to yourself, you feel like Bella in Twilight. 

“I know what you are.” You say in a mocking voice and laugh. 

Then you become serious. If he was a vampire where does he get his blood from? How is he able to walk around in the sunlight? How old was he, truly? Why had he not told you yet? 

It’s a few weeks later when you confront Loki about your theory. 

You had given him time to tell you, even had a rousing discussion about vampires hoping maybe he’d tell you he was one, but no such luck. So you decide to bring it up and lay it on the table. 

“Loki, I know there’s something you’re not telling me. Care to fill me in on what it is?” You ask from across the table, lightly, as you both eat. 

Loki looks at you with a cute scrunch of his face in confusion.

“I beg your pardon?” He asks. 

“You have a secret. I’m assuming it’s something dark because you refuse to tell me no matter how many times I give you chances to tell me.” You say, stabbing a piece of chicken with your fork and only looking in Loki’s eyes when you begin chewing.

Loki looks at you with clouds in his eyes. You can see him fighting with himself about telling you. You raise your brow at him and he clears his throat, grabs his plate and stands.

“I believe I shall retire early tonight.” He says in a clipped tone and goes to put his plate up, not at all noticing the disappointment on your face, your shoulders sagging as you look at your food. 

You eat dinner in silence, finishing quickly and making your way to his living room to lay on the couch. 

You lay there for hours staring at nothing, thinking. You don’t notice you’ve dozed off until Loki is picking you up bridal style and bringing you to the bedroom. 

You make a sound as you wake up a bit to which Loki shushes you. 

As he lays you on the bed he rubs a hand over your head and hair, kissing your forehead and saying, “I shall explain everything in the morning, sweetheart.” 

You drift off a few minutes after he says this.

Come morning you notice you’re in one of Loki’s shirts, panties, and nothing else. Your clothes folded neatly and placed on a chair that resides in Loki’s room. Loki is nowhere to be seen. 

When you open his door to peak out of the hallway you smell breakfast. So, you head to the kitchen and find Loki cooking shirtless and in silk pants. 

When he turns to look at you he smiles softly, taking in your form in his clothes. 

“Good morning, darling.”

“Morning!” You quip, walking over to hug Loki from behind. He leans into your touch and sighs. 

When you’re both sitting at the dining room table eating he brings up the taboo topic. 

“I owe you an explanation.” Loki starts, putting down his utensil and rests his hands on the table. His eyes look at his food for a second before raising to meet yours. 

You sit back and wait.

“There is a reason you hit me with your car...” Loki starts a little unsure.

You stay silent. 

“My physical form does not appear in mirrors.” Loki says, his eyes wandering around the room.

He sighs then looks you in the eyes. 

“I’m a vampire.” He says roughly. 

Everything is silent for a few minutes, you hold his eyes the entire time but keep your face devoid of emotions. 

Loki opens his mouth to say something but you interject. “I know.” You say, going back to eating, glancing at what you’re about to eat, but look back at Loki who sits there in shock.

“What?” He asks a little breathlessly. 

“I know.” You state again, “I figured it out that day we were shopping and I told you I needed a new mirror?”

Loki squints at you. “You were testing me.”

You smile a little. “Ya.”

“You smart, little minx.” Loki says in a deep voice, a smirk on his lips. 

Then the smirk falls and he looks unsure of himself. 

“You are not afraid? Afraid that one day I might decide to kill you?” Loki asks carefully.

You frown as you chew on your food. You swallow it before answering. “No? Should I be?” 

“No.” 

“Well, case solved.” 

“Why are you taking this so lightly?” Loki finally asks with a frown.

You smile at him. “I’ve known my theory must be right for weeks now. I’ve had my time to question everything. You’ve never once lifted a finger at me or gave me reason to be scared of you. I do not see you doing it now just because I found out.” You admit. 

Loki hums, looking at you with a guarded look. “And what if I asked to have a taste of you?” 

You smirk at Loki. “I find the idea to leave me a bit bothered...in a good way.” You say the last part quickly. 

Loki chuckles, a hand coming up to rub over his face. “Darling, you said my priorities were skewed, however I think it has been yours all along.” 

You actually laugh at the memories of your first date with Loki. 

“Shut up, you can’t say the thought of drinking from me doesn’t turn on you on a little bit.” 

You smile wide when Loki’s pupils dilate a bit at your words. 

“Shall we, uh, test this out?” You ask shyly, setting your fork down and pushing a lock of your hair behind you ear, nervous.

Loki’s lips twitch and he looks confident again. He stands and holds out his hand for you to grab. When you do he is quick to lead you to his bedroom, both of you with a little pep in your walk, excited. 

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Victor’s Sand and Sea Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 砂海之约, which has not been released in EN! 🍒

Warning: There are mentions of blood and self-injury! 

[ This date was released on 28 April 2021 ]

Legend tells of two lovers. Because of the pressures of their nations, they could not be together, and decided to drown themselves in a river for love.

Because of this, the River Goddess was enraged, and she cursed the land nourished by the river which was under her control.

Since that day, the Socya River gradually dried up.

The Goddess left an exhortation - when the fateful couple reappears on this land, the river will be surge once again...

-

The sand is boundless, and the sandy wind is bothersome. I walk in the desert, wiping off sweat. 

MC: After walking for such a long time, why haven’t I reached the Desert Kingdom? Did I get lost?

Retrieving a map from my waist, I’m just about to verify my direction when I suddenly see a camel continuously pacing around a small sand dune in front.

I walk over curiously. Using my hands to sweep away the sand, a wrinkled, dark red sleeve appears.

MC: There’s a person!

Quickly, I use both hands to dig into the sand dune, digging out a man who has been buried by the sand.

This person probably wasn’t unconscious for too long. His lips are dry and cracked, and his face is pale. Even so, one can tell that he’s handsome. 

I pat his face.

MC: Hey, wake up! Wake up-

After patting him numerous times, I still receive no response from him. I hastily hold him up, opening my waterskin and giving him a mouth of water.

[Note] A waterskin is a receptacle used to hold water!

After a very long time, he gradually regains some consciousness, opening his eyes to look at me.

His voice has not been fully restored, and his tone is cold.

?: ...who are you?

The expression in his eyes gives me a fright. Feeling as though my good intentions were for nothing, I purse my lips and respond.

MC: I’m the person who pulled you out of the sand dune. You were under the sun for too long. If it weren’t for me, I’m afraid you’d have turned into a meal for the golden eagles by night.

Hearing this, his brows furrow. He struggles to stand, but since he was unconscious for so long, he lacks strength, and his knuckles turn white from the effort.

I reach out to support him. The camel leans over, using its head to nuzzle the corner of his clothes affectionately.

When the person stands up, I realise that he’s much taller than me. Even though he’s in a weak state, there’s still a noble aura in his eyes.

He glances at me, his voice a little hoarse.

?: Thank you very much for saving me.

Just as I’m about to wave my hands and say that it was nothing, I watch as that man unties the bag at his waist, giving it to me.

?: The gems inside shall be treated as repayment for saving my life.

I open the bag, and the red gems that fill it dazzle me.

MC: ...

After selecting one piece, I return the bag to him.

MC: I saved you because I happened to pass by, and wasn’t seeking anything in return. You being safe is already the best thing.

The man lifts his head, giving me a serious look.

Being stared at like this makes me feel slightly embarrassed. I pat the travelling bag behind me, asking him in an amicable manner.

MC: Oh yes, I’m MC. What’s your name?

He leads the camel forward, his voice in the sandy wind indistinct and faraway.

?: Victor.

Although this person was overheated for such a long time, he’s as solemn as a mountain of ice. How strange.

Despite my unspoken criticism, I chase after him with good intentions.

MC: Hey, don’t underestimate me. It’d take several days to get out of here. If you didn’t bring water, you can’t last long alone. Since I’ve received your gem, let me be responsible for you.

Even though I just dug him out from the sand dune, his tone remains very calm.

Victor: There isn’t much water left in your waterskin, and it isn’t enough to sustain two people.

He pauses, then continues.

Victor: Don’t care about me. Take care of yourself.

I’m left dumbfounded. Even though this man called Victor doesn’t have a great personality, he’s pretty kind-hearted.

I take a large step forward, standing in front of him.

MC: Who says there isn’t enough water in the waterskin?

Grinning, I reach out to uncover the waterskin, pouring a few droplets of water into my palm.

Victor watches my every action quietly. After a moment, his eyes widen slightly.

Victor: You...

The water droplets in my palm seem to obtain some strength from my body. One droplet turns into countless droplets.

Then, it forms a spring, flowing into the waterskin.

MC: I'm not a typical traveller. If you follow me, you won’t lose out.

The sun is akin to a red wheel, hanging faraway in the sky. Even after walking for a very long time, it only shifts a little.

The travelling bag on my back feels heavier and heavier, and I haul it on my shoulders with effort.

Victor suddenly pauses in his steps, then reaches out to take my travelling bag.

He brings the camel to me, lifting his eyes to look at me.

Victor: If you can’t walk, you can ride on the camel.

After being stunned for a moment, I can’t help but smile while waving my hands.

MC: No need. It looks really weak, so I can’t bear to do that.

Victor doesn’t say anything else. I follow beside him, making bits of conversation with him.

MC: Victor, why did you faint in the desert? Since you’re so rich, did you meet a bandit? Are the bells on your camel’s neck made of gold? They’re so exquisite! Oh yes, are you going to the Desert Kingdom? I also wish to go there...

Victor stops abruptly.

Following behind him, my head unexpectedly bumps into his back.

MC: Sss... what happened?

Victor: We’ve arrived.

I stick out my head from behind him.

An oasis is encased amid the boundless sand, reminiscent of a dark green amber.

MC: The Desert Kingdom? We reached so quickly?

Victor glances at me, as though wanting to say something. But I suddenly feel unsteady on my feet, and my body sways.

My fingertips feel weak. Instantly, I realise what’s going on.

Having stayed in the desert for too long, I had used too much of my abilities and had forgotten about its side-effects.

My vision gradually turns blurry. My legs are no longer able to support me, and I feel like I’m about to fall.

The sound of frantic camel bells drift to my ear. In my daze, a steady embrace seems to surround me.

-

When I wake up, I’m no longer at the place where I fainted, but am in a palace.

Bright coloured gems are used as decorations, engraved into the walls. The curtain is blown up by the wind, and the air is filled with the fresh and sweet scent of orange blossom water.

MC: Where am I?

I peel open the blanket and rush outside. Victor is standing under a veranda, and the person beside him, who appears to be a physician, is talking to him about something.

Seeing that I’m here, he tilts his head slightly. The physician bows before withdrawing.

Victor walks over to me. The dazzling sunlight illuminates the corridor, mottled light falling on his tall frame, warm and brilliant.

Victor: You’re awake. How are you feeling?

Just as I’m about to ask him what this place is, I realise something after seeing his resplendent attire.

MC: You... Could you be the feudal lord of the Desert Kingdom?

He looks at me without responding, akin to a silent acknowledgement. I feel slightly surprised.

MC: In that case, you must definitely know about desert roses, right?! I heard that this flower is a secret that only the feudal lord of the Desert Kingdom knows about.

The rumoured desert roses are able to cure all the curses in the world.

MC: I came to the Desert Kingdom to collect these special roses. Since I’m considered your benefactor, and a droplet of water will be returned with a gushing spring, could you...

My hint is extremely obvious, but Victor narrows hie eyes at me.

Victor: When you fainted, I was the one who rescued you, sent you a doctor, and fed you medicine. I’ve already returned your droplet of water with a gushing spring.

I’m choked off for a moment, before speaking softly.

MC: ...in that case, what must I do before you’re willing to tell me?

Victor ponders slightly.

Victor: I want to make a deal with you. I’ve heard about what you mentioned, and I can you search for it. But in return, you have to help me with one thing. If you’re willing, no matter whether it’s desert roses or gems, I can give them to you once the matter is done.

MC: Sure.

Victor: ...I haven’t even mentioned what it is.

MC: I trust you. We walked out of the desert together, and I know what kind of a person you are.

It might have been a misperception, but Victor, who originally pulled a long face, suddenly lowers his eyes slightly, a hint of a smile flashing past them.

-

And just like that, I stay in Victor’s palace temporarily.

He mentioned that “the deal” was not yet prepared. Before that, I can recuperate peacefully in his palace.

It doesn’t matter to me. During my stay here, I often take strolls in the marketplace, and all use my abilities to help the poverty-stricken citizens who lack water.

The people are kind and honest, so I always fail to take note of how much I use my abilities.

But for some reason, each time my body reaches its limits and faints, I always happen to meet Victor.

-

Opening my eyes, I stare at the familiar gorgeous decorations on the ceiling, the tip of my nose detecting the sweet orange blossom scent floating in the air.

Victor is sitting by my side, eyes lowered as he looks at the topographical map in his hands.

The tips of his hair have fallen to the corners of his eyes, covering those somewhat stern eyes. But he appears much more amiable and approachable.

I know that I was once again rescued and brought back by Victor, so I crack a joke.

MC: Victor, why are you always able to bring me back each time I faint? Are you secretly following me every day?

Victor: ...

Victor places the topographical map at the side, facing me calmly.

Victor: I don’t wish to bring you back from the outside each time, but you clearly lack an awareness on how to use your abilities reasonably. Do you need me to teach you about this?

MC: It’s probably because I can skip and jump about after a few days of recuperating.

I add on softly in my heart: It’d be good if I could find the desert roses soon.

Victor: The fact that you’re able to skip and jump about is thanks to the exorbitant medicine you drink every day and the physician who specially takes care of you.

MC: ...thanks to them, I guess?

Victor is silent for a moment, choosing to put an end to this conversation. He gets up, carrying the medicine bowl as he leaves.

Seeing that I’ve gone too far with my jokes, I quickly get up, following behind Victor to salvage the situation.

MC: Victor, I was wrong. I won’t joke around with you anymore.

I follow after him blindly, and he suddenly stops outside the corridor.

Outside the corridor, there’s a small flower garden. Even though it’s a flower garden, there are only a few tiny crooked saplings in it.

The desert is scorching during all four seasons, and the oasis lacks a water source. During my time here, I haven’t seen a single flower in the city.

But Victor seems to really like this small flower garden. Whenever he has free time, he likes to stop at this veranda for a while.

Sometimes, I think that he doesn’t actually like this flower garden. When he stares at the small bare saplings, it’s as though he’s looking at this barren kingdom.

Even though such emotions are meant to be faraway for me, I can always capture them when I stand beside him.

After pondering for a while, I brisk walk into the flower garden. Uncovering my waterskin, the tip of my finger touches a water droplet.

A crystal clear spring suddenly appears, descending onto the bare branches of the saplings.

I turn my head towards Victor, tilting my chin in satisfaction.

MC: Don’t worry. With me around, your flower garden will definitely become full of vitality. Also, by the time they grow big, this land will definitely have even more sources of water.

Victor stands under the veranda, his gaze passing through the countless water droplets, landing on my face.

He doesn’t speak, but simply watches me quietly. When our eyes linger on each other, I feel my face burning up for some reason, and I avert my gaze frantically.

MC: [blushing] Why... why aren’t you saying anything?

Victor: Have I ever told you that this place didn’t always look like this?

I shake my head.

He suddenly smiles, then sits on a step of the veranda. He pats the empty space beside him, beckoning me to go over.

Victor: There’s a story. Want to hear it?

I immediately shuffle over, sitting beside him. The distance between us is very small. When I turn my head, I’m able to see his narrow, deep and serene eyes.

I hug my knees, preparing to listen to Victor’s story.

The setting sun brings with it an afterglow which seeps through the other side of the palace. The simple moonlight slowly reveals itself in the light greenish blue sky.

As though he’s about to tell a very long story, Victor sends a maidservant to bring over a jar of grape wine.

I take a sip, and the sweet scent of grapes rushes to my face along with the night breeze.

Victor’s tone is unhurried and gentle, mixing with the honeyed fruit wine, and flowing into my heart.

Victor: A long time ago before I was born, it was said that the upper and lower basins of the river belonged to two tribes. A pair of lovers surmounted the obstruction of the river and were in love. But this wasn’t allowed by their respective nations, which resulted in them drowning in a river for love. The River Goddess is responsible for water and life. She lamented these two people who died for love, and put a curse on the river.

MC: The people here mentioned this before! I heard that the river would only be restored when the fated couple reappears. I also heard that you abandoned the honour and glory of leading a comfortable life as a feudal lord... and led the king’s troops here, in order to find a way to resolve the issue of the dried river. Have you tried searching for the fated couple?

Victor: As compared to legends, I prefer believing in the power of humans. I spent a very long time to find this current spring, but I don’t want to stop here. I want to restore the river completely.

His voice is very deep, and it affects me subconsciously.

MC: The people here... including you, are all very kind, and treat me very well. If possible, I hope to witness the day the river is restored too.

Emotions I can’t comprehend gather in Victor’s eyes.

Victor: The current river was dug from quicksand a very long time ago when I led the troops. There isn’t much river water underneath quicksand, so this oasis doesn’t count as an actual oasis. The reason you... met me in the desert back then was because my my troops and I ran into a sandstorm while searching for other underground rivers. I was buried by sand, and only had a camel with me. It was considered a hopeless situation. But afterwards, you appeared before me.

He chuckles softly, his expression so tender that it’s akin to being able to pluck the moon from the sky with just a stretch of a hand.

Victor: Perhaps your appearance is something even the God of Fate couldn’t predict. Maybe with your abilities, the underground river could become a true river. MC, this is the deal I mentioned before. But now, as compared to a deal, this is more of a request. Will you agree?

This is the first time he’s using such a tone and looking at me with such a gaze. Pretending to be calm, I secretly take a deep breath before responding.

MC: Of course. This is something which can bring hope. Even though I’m just an ordinary person, I want to use my own strength to do something. At least... to be of help to you even by a little bit.

Victor pauses.

Victor: The desert roses you’re searching for are flowers that can only be produced by the Socya River. If the river can be restored, I promise you.

The dry breeze brushes my face, and I hear Victor’s soft and low voice, akin to a vow.

Victor: I’ll help you obtain everything you want. No matter... what you want.

I respond with a soft “mm”.

MC: I’ll wait for that day earnestly.

-

Not long after, Victor’s men dig into quicksand. Apparently, some river water flowed out.

Coincidentally, the grandest festival in the Desert Kingdom - the River Goddess’ ceremony, is about to begin. Victor and I decide to try restoring the river on that day.

But the night before the ceremony, I take my usual idle stroll along the streets, and darkness suddenly takes over my vision -

-

The cloth in front of my eyes is removed, and the harsh light of dancing flames enter my vision. Not yet adjusted to the surroundings, I squint while looking around.

A boundless desert is before me.

A few people dressed in attire from a foreign nation are whistling nearby, and a man who appears to be their leader is sitting next to the bonfire.

Seeing that I'm awake, he walks over.

Leader: We finally caught you, the “goddess” who can turn a droplet of water into a gushing spring.

MC: Mmff!

A ball of cloth is stuffed in my mouth. I struggle to speak, but a knife glinting with cold light is immediately pressed to my neck.

Leader: I’d advise you not to struggle or have the vain hope of Victor coming to rescue you. He’s currently leading troops in digging a river, and doesn’t have the time to bother about whether you’re dead or alive.

The blade shifts upwards, patting my cheek threateningly.

Leader: From now onwards, your abilities belong to our tribe. If you agree obediently, I’ll loosen the binds. How’s that? If you agree, blink your eyes.

I keep my eyes open wide, unwilling to let my abilities be used by people with ulterior motives.

Seeing my reaction, the leader laughs coldly, raising the knife in his hand.

Leader: Stubborn even at death’s door. Looks like you’ll have to suffer for a bit.

My heart grows heavy quickly.

While watching as the knife draws closer to me, I hear vibrations from afar which resemble thunder.

I immediately lift my eyes, and see a group of figures in black appearing from the horizon.

Those people are dressed in familiar attire, and the person in front has his usual stern expression, his lips pursed tightly.

The leader turns pale with fright, pulling me over as a hostage.

Victor brandishes his scimitar. The blade reflects the moonlight of the vast desert, outlining its sharp and beautiful shape.

The king’s troops are well-trained. In an instant, the people from the foreign nation are suppressed.

The bonfire seems to be burning out, and it has lost its brilliant flames. After a moment of silence, I watch as Victor’s eyes land on me fixedly. 

Victor: Release her.

Leader: Whether I release her will depend on the great feudal lord’s attitude.

Victor walks over from the crowd, then tosses his knife onto the floor, his gaze deep.

Victor: My sincerity is sufficient. Let her go, and I can guarantee that your nation will not be touched in the future. 

The leader hesitates for a while, but he suddenly speaks ferociously.

Leader: Looks like this “Living Spring” is very precious to you. In that case, there’s more reason not to let her go. Our small tribe has been oppressed by the Desert Kingdom for far too long. With her, we never have to be bullied again.

While threatening Victor, he holds me and inches backwards.

I watch as worry flashes in Victor’s eyes. But he very quickly regains his composure, stepping closer.

Victor: Looks like I’ve indulged your people for too long.

His voice brings with it a mighty pressure, stirring the frantic emotions of the leader.

Victor: So long that you dare to threaten me.

Accompanying his voice is something flashing past, piercing the wrist of the leader. With a shriek, the blade pressed against my neck falls to the ground.

No longer fettered, I fall forward.

Victor immediately reaches out, pulling me into his arms.

Before I can say anything, I hear the soldiers at the side exclaiming.

Soldiers: Not good. A sandstorm, a sandstorm is here!

Lifting my head, I see a billow of sand moving towards where we are.

The person next to me instantly presses me to his chest.

Victor: Grab my hand tightly.

The windstorm at my ear is reckless, and I’m unable to open my eyes. I can only cling to Victor’s chest.

After an unknown duration of time, the sandstorm finally passes. 

I immediately open my eyes, spitting out a large mouthful of sand.

MC: Cough cough... Victor, the sandstorm has passed!

Victor doesn’t speak, leaning against a stone. Lifting my head hastily, I see that his eyes are shut, and his fingers are ice-cold.

MC: Victor? Victor?!

I attempt to shake him awake, but when my hand accidentally touches his back, I feel something damp and sticky. Dumbfounded, I retract my hand -

Fresh blood.

Shifting my line of sight, I see that the sharp flying rocks have left a long gash on his back.

Earlier, he had left his wound exposed to the sandstorm, quietly protecting me in his arms.

My palm is dyed with his blood. I frantically tear off a patch of clothing and try to stop the bleeding, but to no avail.

MC: [crying] What should I do...

I carefully rest Victor’s head on my lap. The moonlight outlines his pale face, stern expression, and dry lips.

This is a sign of a severe lack of hydration.

However, I don’t have my waterskin with me. The only thing I can find is Victor’s knife, half-buried in the sand. 

After hesitating for a moment, I pick up the knife. Gritting my teeth, I slice my own palm.

Bringing my palm to Victor’s lips, fresh blood drips into his parted, parched lips, but nothing happens.

MC: No good, he still needs water...

At a loss, I lift my head. The desert before me is reminiscent of a gigantic beast in quiet hibernation.

The desert is a wasteland, without a single drop of water.

All of a sudden, a breeze rushes past, causing sand to be blown up. The camel at the side seems to sense something, and it tugs on my sleeve with its mouth, pulling me forward.

It tugs me forward for a short while, and my eyes widen.

Underneath the illumination of moonlight, a deep colour appears in the vast desert, which differs from the surrounding coarse sand.

MC: Quicksand? When there’s quicksand, there’s an underground river! As long as I can reach the underground river, I can let it flow... and there will be hope for Victor!

But what Victor once said comes to my mind -

Victor: The quicksands in the desert are extremely dangerous. It’s very easy for ordinary people to get swallowed up, which is why there’s a need to dig it slowly.

The camel whimpers softly, its bells tinkling along with its frantic movements.

Victor lies on the sand quietly, and it’s as though everything has returned to the beginning when we first met.

If possible, I’d really want to see the flourishing city at dusk with him again.

I pat the hair of the camel, speaking to it softly.

MC: Little Camel, even though I often pull out your hair in secret, since I fed you water...

I pause, swallowing some saliva.

 MC: If I don’t come back up later, find someone else to rescue Victor. Remember to run a little faster, got it?

After speaking to it, I take a deep breath, and try stepping into the quicksand.

A soft sensation is beneath my feet. I take a few more steps, and suddenly feel a powerful suction.

Almost instantly, everything beneath my waist sinks into the quicksand. I smell something moist, which differs from the dry sand. With difficulty, I reach out to feel for my surroundings.

The moon in the air is bright, clear, and cold. It observes my every action icily.

The sand beneath me flows continuously. Just as the sand is about to cover my mouth and nose, my wrist is suddenly gripped by someone. 

Victor: Who gave you the nerve to head down the quicksand on your own?

Victor’s face appears before my eyes. Supporting himself with a hand at the edge of the quicksand, the other hand grabs onto my wrist tightly, exerting the remnants of his energy.

MC: Victor, I’m helping you look for a water source. Let go!

Victor: I don’t need you to save me a second time.

He talks through clenched teeth, his wound reopening once again, crimson blood dripping into the sand.

Frantic, I extricate myself from his hand, and the suction from below causes me to sink even deeper, bit by bit.

The moist and fine sand climbs up my neck, gradually sealing up my mouth and nose.

I cough violently, my face red as I speak.

MC: Victor... did you forget what I told you before? I agreed to your request, and now I’m fulfilling my promise.

One side of Victor’s body has also been pulled into the quicksand. He gives me a deep stare, then suddenly releases the hand which supported him at the edge.

I stop breathing, watching blankly as the quicksand swallows Victor’s tall frame.

His gaze undulates like a tide, stirring with many emotions that I've never seen before.

Victor: Since you agreed to my request, you should know that my repayment wouldn’t be less than yours. No matter what awaits you, I’ll be with you.

His words are reminiscent of a vow, drifting to my ear. A thousand waves rise in my heart.

I recall the way he looked at me when I was held under duress. I recall the many moments that I didn’t take particular notice of.

In the many times that I fainted, I had felt someone holding me in his arms in my semi-conscious state.

That person walked very steadily, and I could hear the beating of his heart clearly, which covered all the ruckus in the surroundings.

My heart beats rapidly, and a certain answer is on the verge of surfacing. 

On that night when the arid summer breeze coursed past, he mentioned that it wasn’t a deal, but a request.

At this moment. I finally understand the difference between them -

A deal is a business transaction. But to Victor, a request has always been an exchange of feelings. 

...so this was what he meant.

I try my best to touch him, but even after exerting all my effort, I can only grip his pinky finger.

It turns out that no matter what the ending is, he’s willing to be with me.

Amid the darkness, a faraway sigh seems to drift from beneath the desert.

The quicksand, which was swallowing us like a tide, suddenly loses its oppressive strength.

At the lowest layer of the quicksand beneath our feet, there seems to be a near yet faraway sound of flowering water.

The sound of water grows increasingly louder and clearer. Victor and I look at each other, eyes brightening.

I struggle to reach out, letting the tips of my fingers feel for the water current.

A whooshing sound of wind and sand rises from the desert, reminiscent of blessings being murmured by a pair of lovers.

It’s vast and lonely.

The sound of gurgling water suddenly appears at my ear, and a surging tide bursts from the sand, sending Victor and I out of the quicksand and towards the tip of the current.

The water curling around my fingertips is both powerful and gentle as it surrounds us. I reach out tentatively, and the water follows, sliding from mid-air.

Surprised, I twist my head to look at Victor. In the mist, his expression is filled with gentleness.

The water surrounding us surges forward. Victor suddenly reaches out to pull me into his arms, carrying me out of the water before we tumble onto the riverbank.

After a long while, the gushing water gradually stops. A long, sparkling river appears beneath the moonlight, meandering and coursing faraway.

Several green seedlings appear along the riverbank, the tightly shut flower buds reflecting a little light.

MC: There are...

Victor: Desert roses.

He looks at me.

Victor: MC, the river has been restored.

-

On the eve of the ceremony, the meeting hall is filled with congratulatory gifts from the nobles.

[Note] The timing doesn’t make sense because the whole kidnapping thing happened the night before the ceremony, yet it’s somehow the day before the ceremony now?? I’ll just assume there was an error and the writers meant that it’s the day of the ceremony LOL

I’m hiding outside the main hall, peeking in secretly.

After the news of the river restoration reached the city, everyone was filled with cheer. The preparations for the ceremony this time have become even livelier.

But such a grand celebration doesn’t appear to have any relation to me.

My deal with Victor has been completed. I’ve obtained the desert roses, and have no other reason for staying here.

Still, I want to have one more look at Victor... before leaving.

Victor is sitting on a high seat and propping his head up with a hand, clearly uninterested in the praises and flattery from these nobles.

As though he senses something, he glances in my direction from afar.

I’m given a fright, turning around quickly and leaping down the stairs. But before I reach the halfway mark, someone suddenly grabs my wrist.

Victor: Where are you going?

I have no choice but to turn around and look at him.

MC: I’m leaving this place. Everything’s settled, and I’m bidding you farewell.

I avert my eyes guiltily, not having the guts to tell Victor that I plan to run away with his camel.

Victor: How did you know that everything’s settled?

MC: Huh?

I lift my head blankly. An incredibly small smile flashes in his eyes, and he speaks leisurely.

Victor: Back then, I made a promise to you. As long as you could help me restore the Socya River, all of the roses along the riverbank belong to you, as long as they are under my scope of control. You have to take them all away before the deal is considered complete.

My mouth is agape, filled with shock.

MC: But there are so many roses. How can I bring all of them back?

A scent sweeter than honey permeates the night. The moonlight illuminates the side of Victor’s cold face clearly. 

The instruments and drums in the hall play simple and unadorned music. Victor looks at me, his voice suddenly turning very, very soft.  

Victor: In that case, stay here. Stay by my side.

-

⚔️ MOMENTS ⚔️

Victor’s Post: A certain dummy displayed a row of desert roses on the balcony, but they aren’t roses.

MC: Huh? What!!!

Victor: Before you buy flowers next time, make sure to check their basic information.

-

Victor’s Post: A certain dummy displayed a row of desert roses on the balcony, but they aren’t roses.

MC: I was wondering why they looked so different from roses!

Victor: ...they don’t just look different.

-

Victor’s Post: A certain dummy displayed a row of desert roses on the balcony, but they aren’t roses.

MC: ...forget it, at least they can live longer.

Victor: Under your care, that’s not necessarily the case.

⚔️ Phone calls: First l Second

⚔️ Support the cafe by dropping by the tip jar!

[fangirleaconmigo]

Eskel Meets a Vampire in a Cemetery

I wrote this ficlet for @ro-the-bard-writer months ago, but never put it on tumblr. So, I have filled it out and here it is!

The question was, how would Eskel react if he met Regis? So here is the cozy little ficlet I came up with in response. (Implied/mentioned Regis/Geralt. Rated T probably just because of the moonshine.)

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

Eskel’s cart clattered down the rocky road. It was night, but the full moon sat high above him, illuminating his path. He was exhausted, so when a rise in the road fell away, and he caught sight of his destination, he groaned in relief.

The cemetery was set off from the road by a broken down fence. It hardly seemed like protection, but few people were eager to disturb a cemetery. Dirty white headstones protruded from the ground like exposed bones. Vines of such dark green that they could have been black draped themselves over the fence and the headstones. Fog clung possessively to the tops of the taller crypts.

Thankfully, witchers were not repulsed by reminders of death. It felt familiar, which was almost a comfort. Eskel squinted as he led his horse closer, cart bumping behind it. At last, he spotted a single figure leaning against a gray stone crypt.

The man was clad in an elegant belted coat and his black leather boots were crossed casually. His black hair and salt and pepper sideburns swept away from his pale face in a meticulous swoop.

He would look anachronistic in a busy market or tavern, but somehow he fit perfectly in his current surroundings. Eskel got the impression that the man had been built at the same time as this ancient graveyard, like a matching set piece.

The witcher pulled his cart to a stop in front of the man, and wiped his brow. The overwhelming scent of a mix of herbs drifted towards him.

“Are you waiting here for Eskel?” He looked around for Geralt, but this man seemed to be alone.

“That I am." The man bowed with a courteous swoop. His smile was eager and his eyes shone.

Eskel rolled his sore neck and took one more look around. “Geralt not here yet? He said I was to meet the two of you.”

Geralt being absent from a meetup with a man who was so clearly a vampire, should have sent off a symphony of alarm bells in Eskel's mind. But Regis looked like a teacher or an accountant. And although Eskel knew better than anyone that looks could be deceiving, his manner and expression also put the witcher at ease.

“Ah yes, my apologies. He has been delayed. I am to entertain you until you arrive. Did he...tell you anything about me?”

"No," admitted Eskel. "He just said he had someone important he wanted me to meet.”

“Ah. Yes, well. Then I am Regis. Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy, barber surgeon.” The man offered his hand.

Eskel's eyes roamed every detail on the man, who stood quietly, allowing himself to be assessed.

“Vampire, right?”

Regis chuckled. “It took Geralt some time to figure that one out.”

“Interesting,” said Eskel.

“But yes, it is indeed true. I am a vampire. Is that going to be a problem?” Regis had been holding his hand out, but began to lower it.

“Nope.” Eskel grasped his hand and shook it firmly. Unsurprisingly it was cool. “Eskel. Witcher.” He couldn't be sure yet who this person was to Geralt, but he decided not to treat him as an enemy. He would simply wait and see.

A bleat issued from his cart. Regis raised his brows.

“Yeah. Brought my goat. She hunts with me sometimes.”

Regis nodded. “I see.”

Eskel lifted Lil Bleater off the cart. She promptly scampered up onto a headstone and bleated into the night.

“Sorry about that." Eskel reached to shoo her down.

“Oh that isn’t necessary. They’re dead, they don’t mind,” Regis assured him. “But I do see scrapes on her back and stomach. May I help with that?”

“Sure, thanks. She got spooked and tried to make it under a fence.”

“Ah. I have just the thing back at my cottage. Let me show you there. Geralt will meet us shortly.”

Going with the vampire to a second location was another risk. But Eskel did want help with Lil Bleater. It wouldn't do to have her get an infection and die on him.

They walked mostly in silence through the swaying weeds, cool air on their faces and the sounds of crickets filling the night air.

Regis politely asked about his trip over and how his last hunt went. Eskel obliged and was surprised to find Regis interested in the details of his profession. He ended up talking more than he normally did, about forktail mating habits and his own personal tips for hunting them. But as he spoke, he racked his brain.

Why was it so important to Geralt that he meet this vampire? Who was he to Geralt? And why did he seem nervous? Again, Eskel tucked that away as an important fact, just so he didn't grow lazy or complacent.

They arrived at the moss covered cottage and Regis led them to a small barn in the back. It was a shack, really, but it was dry and protected from the elements. Regis tended patiently to Lil Bleater. Then he found her a warm spot for her to recover with Regis’s other animals.

Then Regis invited him into the cottage. It was a small, cozy home and a warm fire flickered inside. Eskel decided to accept his invitation but when he actually stepped inside, he hesitated in the doorway.

He couldn't help it. It was instinct. Regis waited, almost apologetically.

"You can wait for Geralt, if you like."

Eskel wasn't sure where. The barn maybe. But he had come this far. He sweeped his gaze along the interior of the cottage.

It was rustic, but welcoming. It was small and open, so he could see every area of the home. Quilts were piled over stuffed chairs. A copper kettle sat on a well used stove. And just as his hesitance began to border on rude, Eskel's noticed some things that put him at ease.

Geralt’s boots sat neatly under the bed, next to a pair of slippers. Geralt’s extra set of armour hung in the closet next to suits. A loaf of rosemary thyme bread (Geralt’s favorite) sat cooling on the table. A dagger he knew Vesemir had gifted Geralt lay on a counter.

Eskel stepped inside and Regis grinned. He shut the door after him and took his coat. As he hung it on a hook, he noticed Eskel eyeing the knife.

“He left it for me. So I could defend himself.”

Eskel chuckled. “Higher vampires can still put people to sleep, transform into bats, and drink blood if they want to, right?”

“Indeed. But that is Geralt for you.”

“It certainly is."

“Please, Eskel, have a seat." Regis swept an arm towards the most comfortable looking one in the house. Eskel settled himself into with an appreciative groan.

"Make yourself at home. Feel free to take off your boots, and put your feet up."

Eskel complied, wiggling his toes near the the crackling fire. “When will he be getting back?”

“A few hours." Regis bustled around setting things right in the kitchen, lighting a fire, and putting on the kettle. He opened a cabinet and pulled out a bottle and two cups.

“There was a contract that came up at the last minute. I’d normally go with him, but we were to meet you, so I stayed to be the greeting party.”

Eskel's nostril's flared when Regis unstoppered the bottle, and he smiled involuntarily. He was weary and moonshine would be just the thing.

“Moonshine?”

“Yes, please."

Regis poured him a cup and sat in next to him in a creaking rocking chair. He clutched a cup that smelled like tea.

“You don’t want any?” asked Eskel, tilting the moonshine towards him. He might normally be suspicious of a vampire who offered him a drink he didn’t himself imbibe.

But Geralt’s boots were sitting under the bed.

“No,” said Regis. “I’m a teetotaler.”

That was fine with him. Eskel wasn't the kind of person who needed people to drink when he drank. When he brought the cup to his lips, he inhaled and said, “mandrake?”

“Yes,” said Regis. “In small quantities--”

Eskel took a sip and exhaled, "it’s not poisonous."

"That's right," said Regis in approval. He watched him over his cup as he sipped his tea.

“Also. Not effective for love spells.”

“Quite right,” said Regis.

They discussed the merits of mandrake in potions and the richness of the flora and fauna surrounding Regis's cottage. The vampire's expertise was impressive, so Eskel pressed him on various recipes that would improve his potions.

Regis related some of the brews he had concocted for Geralt and vowed to send various herbs and medicaments home with him.

After some time, they grew silent. Only the sound of the flames crackling and the creak of Regis’s rocking chair filled the silence.

Eskel decided to say it out loud. “So, you and Geralt?”

“Geralt and me.” Regis's black eyes sparkled. “Is that going to be a problem? A monster in the witcher family? A traditionally hostile relationship?”

Eskel chuckled. “We know better than anyone that monsters are not always monstrous. And if Geralt is happy, that’s all that matters to me.”

Regis hummed contently and took another sip of his tea. “That’s a relief, if I’m being honest.”

Eskel took another drink and blew out a breath. Then he lifted his cup in a salute. “You and your excellent moonshine are welcome in our family, Regis.”

Regis relaxed back into his chair and crossed his legs. "Thank you Eskel. I appreciate that."

Eskel nodded a gesture that meant 'you're welcome,' as he stared at the fire. "I see a benefit to this, actually."

Regis looked interested. "What would that be?"

Eskel set the cup down and stretched, sitting back deeper into the chair. He could sleep in this thing happily. “Geralt will have to stop ribbing me about the succubus.”

Regis laughed, delighted. “I’ll see that he does.”

And he smiled into his tea.

[demoisellexy]

I was living in the shadows of my sisters growing up. I was never the first choice. When some were joking about adopting, they would prefer the youngest or the eldest but never the middle. Some joking around that I was "nalimot sa kawayanan" by my parents. When some are offering something, they would refer to them, rather than to me. My name were often called by relatives, or by some family friends in gatherings. People would be surprised that I was their sibling. When there was gala or pasyal, I would not be asked if I wanted to come. It would always be the youngest or the eldest, still not the middle. When some of my older siblings are being invited to a gathering, they would tag my youngest sister along because she was and still pretty and people would surely love her. There is just one from my cousins who preferred me to be her company, she is way older and I can still remember she wanted me to tag along with her, there are few childhood nights where I would sleep in to her room, or this one birthday where she treated me a gala to a mall, and so when I got some age, I name her as my ninang. She still is my favorite cousin, aside from being pretty, and talented.

Words stay in a child's mind. I hope the old generation knew that. Children is not that expert to distinguish jokes and not. Children seldom take words as heavy or as lightly as it is. Since I was a kid, I already knew I have the darkest skin color among my siblings. The olds surely pointed it out in my face. They would ask my mom "Bakit iba ang kulay nyan?" or "Bay maitim areng batang are?" and my mom would hold me and caress my back "Sadyang ito ang pinakamakulay, maganda din naman." That time I was thinking, what really was the normal color should be. Is it as white as milk as my sisters' or is it my color? Looking at those who'd ask those questions, they weren't that white either. I grew up insecure with my hair, my brows, my forehead, my nose, my color and all the things about me. My siblings are white or pale, they have nice straight hair and light eye brows and pretty noses. While mine was dark, have volumed curly hair and dark and thick eye brows. People pointed them out so much as I grow up that made me think I was not pretty at all, in any thing, at any angle. I am a hypocrite if I would not admit that I envy others. My cousins are not dark as well, they have pointed nose, nice and fair skin colors. Insecurities have grown within me, and I blame me for not being pretty.

The days we said no and complain because a thing is too much are the days we would be remembered and not the days we were kind. All through out, I envied my sisters but not the kind of envy that would made me hate them. I just want to have the features and personalities they have. I just wanted to be like them. I wanted to look like them. I wanted to be noticed too. But all I can is to cry over a dog, or cry for my cousins who were left by their mom. All I can do is to never ask for anything from my parents because it would cost something. All I am was a kid who would prefer what my siblings would prefer because I would be fine with it. All I am was a kid who would do the chores of my siblings just because they do not want to do it. I seldom complain. When a thing is bearable, I would carry it, not a word would be heard from me. But one of my brothers would tell me I was faking everything and that I was not really kind, I was just pretending. When we were being introduced in a gathering, my mama would say I was the kindest among us but he would scoff and go against. Saying I was just nagkukunwari na mabait. For someone who have taught herself to be kind since she was four, knowing what is right or wrong, learning how to filter words that would not hurt, it reaps through the bones. Kindness is all I have because I have no pretty face to offer, and being told in my teen age self by a family that all I am is facade and just mastered in pretending--- it created another hole in me. All my life, I have practiced and showed kindness, I was patient, I am all smile and would answer yes, and they saw me unkind and pretending just because I felt tired or not in a mood they wanted me to be. The times I complained, they would call me a pretender being kind all along, but they, themselves were complaining all through out their life and consider them better just because "they are showing their true color". It ain't helping, being kind is all I can do yet I failed to do so.

You would see the world differently and the world would show you different views as you grow older. The things I have wrote were all about me, it was all about my feelings, it was all about how I would feel, how I see myself, and how the world is to me. Being 22 year old, I realized I was selfish-- to myself. I have grudges within me, but the grudges were against me. Why am I not pretty? Why am I not kind? Why am I not being chosen? Why am I the least choice? I have why questions growing up but never the how. How would I look pretty? I was sulking around the corner, would that help me? How would I be more kind? I am just considering my standard of kindness, would that be enough for them? How would I be chosen? I am just silent, not letting her thoughts out, what I wanted and what I did not, would others know the real me that way? How can I be the best choice? I, myself do not even know who and what I am. The world would not stop for me, the world is not there just for me. I have collected things against me and be against the world not realizing that I can focus more on myself. I have been serving and have been there for everyone around me, I can and I should do that for myself too? I, all along have been joining the rest of the world letting me feel down--- if there is just one who would be there for me, perhaps I would have everything lighter, but even I, abandoned myself. I have invalidated myself for so long. The world would teach you to be there for you. Yourself is all you need, you would get by with less weight.

Being different is not different. Being different is normal. If only the world would realize that, it can be a better place to live in. But since it cannot, what's left for me is making myself better as a different one. As I was about to finish college, looking back, I was so so far from where I thought would be the end. I have learned to make few friends, a beautiful small circles who have supported me. I have learned to accept that I am different and that I am pretty as me. I have read a lot of books portraying a beautiful world and I am glad I have learned to live in it, I have found an escape from the tiring world outside its cover.

We can live better. Let us live better for us. I would live better for me, and for the people who have loved me genuinely from the very start, when I have not love myself until this day that I adore me. The world would not rotate just for me, and so, I would rotate for me. The world would not stop for my issues, and so, I would stop for me. I would be better.

[certifiedskywalker]

Held in the Night - Thranduil

Thranduil catches you stealing something that belongs to him.

With the ring held tight in your grasp, you crept away from the bedside table. Yet, as you retreated, you could not help but sneak one last glance at the sleeping form. Resting his head on the plush pillow, a mere arms length from where you stood, was Thranduil. His eternally young face looked softer somehow as he dreamed. For a moment, you dared to admire his features: the gentle curve of his pink lips, the thickness of his brows, and how his eyelashes fanned out against his pale skin. How strangely beautiful Thranduil was.

So rarely did he sleep, being an Elf and the King of the Woodland Realm. His lack of rest made sneaking about Mirkwood quite difficult for you. In the halls, you saw him around seemingly every corner; in the shops, you saw his advisors. When you had finally managed to sneak without being seen, especially now with the ring in hand, you were eager to savor the little victory. Though, it would be short lived if you risked lingering any longer.

Quickly, you looked around the room. Thranduil’s room was elegant, walls and floors made of polished, white wood. Large, arched windows let in natural light during the day and during clear nights, like this one, moonlight. Even a few steps away from the windows, you could see how the stars shone through the glass like far off snowflakes against the dark sky.

Night, with it’s reaching shadows, would mask you well enough. Carefully, you crept on the tips of your toes towards the windows. Between the shining glass panes, the doorway to the balcony was open. The curtains, wispy and white, billowed slightly in the breeze like fabric tendrils coaxing towards a daring escape. As you moved stealthily across the royal bed chambers, you heard the rustling of sheets.

Checking over your shoulder you saw that the noise came from Thranduil, who had shifted in his slumber. One of his arms was outstretched towards the empty side of the bed. Slender fingers brushed against the sheets as if he were searching for someone to hold. Your chest warmed at the sight, but your forced it down. There was no time to linger and fawn over the king; you were set on your own little mission.

Without a sound, you made your way out to the balcony. A peek over the edge set your sense of balance on the edge of a sword. You gripped the railing, a large, curved tree branch, to steady yourself. The forest floor outside the royal keep seemed to rush up at you. To mitigate the tilting feeling that overwhelmed you, you closed your eyes. 

Fast and strong, your heart beat roared in your chest until you could hear it, the blood rushing, in your ears. After a moment, you opened your eyes; but you did not dare to look over the railing again. With the height unnerving you so, you squeezed the hidden ring a bit tighter as if it ensured you would not drop it. Cool metal dug into the meat of your palm and you winced. 

Once you felt relatively sure footed, you uncurled your fingers to reveal the silver band. Intricate carvings decorated the metal. Curved leaves, varying in shape and species of tree, were casted to the band. Oak, birch, and even a bunch of pine needles; every tree in Mirkwood was reflected on the ring with a mastery that rivaled the Dwarven forges. 

You traced your fingertip along the edge of each leaf, wondering what tool could shape such small details. Stems that would connect to branches seemed to reach for long lost, unforged metal trees. Fibrous veins stood out in the otherwise smooth, metal leaves like lightning strikes engraved. It was made for a king, the king, to match him in his beauty. Though, with Thranduil, that would be impossible.

No amount of shining rings or gleaming gems could meet the Elf king’s grace. You had seen him, dressed in the simplest tunics, wandering about his kingdom looking like glittering gold. How effortless he was, how he moved. That sort of beauty could not be replicated or adorned. Thranduil’s beauty came from something else entirely and it gave him power the likes of which you had never seen before arriving in Mirkwood. The old lords of Men often created fear to rule so completely. With Thranduil, ruling came naturally, his power innate.

Studying the ring closer, a nervousness twisted your gut. What would the King of the Woodland Realm do with a scrappy piece of jewelry? Perhaps you picked the wrong one. Maybe there was a more luxurious article of finery you had missed. One that would drive a harder bargain, yes, but one that would be more-

“Plotting an escape?” His voice, low with the trailing of sleep, made you jump. On instinct, your fingers curled around the ring, holding it tight and obscuring it from view.

Slowly, sheepishly, you turned on the pads of your feet. There, standing in the doorway connecting the royal chambers to the balcony, was Thranduil. Blond-white hair was messier than usual due to his trance-sleep but the alertness in his piercing blue eyes told you there would be no evading him. He raised a dark brow at you as he waited for your reply. 

“No, simply enjoying the night air.” You nodded your head towards the sky. “The stars are beautiful tonight.”

“Hmm, yes,” as he hummed, Thranduil stepped out on the balcony to join you. There was enough of a breeze to stir the white silk robes he wore, even exposing some of the pale skin of his chest to the starlight. You felt your breath catch at the sight and tore your eyes away.

Fearing he might somehow catch a glimpse of the ring, you turned so you faced the outside world. You could see the tops of Mirkwood trees in the moonlight and hear the chirping of some nocturnal bird. To calm yourself, you focused on the sound and made your heartbeat ease by falling into the rhythm of your forced, long breaths. This attempt to soothe yourself proved to be in vain the moment Thranduil wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Not quite as beautiful as you,” he whispered. 

As he spoke, his lips brushed against your ear and his breath tickled the sensitive skin of your neck. You couldn’t help but lean back against him. In Thranduil’s arms, held to his chest, you felt the safest in all of Middle Earth. You could feel the strong planes of muscle that made up the king’s torso. How you longed to turn in his arms, run your hands over his chest and shoulders. Yet, you were frozen, thundering of your heart acting as a reminder of your hidden trinket.

“You flatter me.”

“You make it easy,” he replied smoothly. He pressed his face into your hair and held you impossibly close. “Though, if I did not know better, I would call you a thief.”

“A thief?” You stiffened before you turned in his arms at the accusation. How could he know already?

Thranduil smiled down at you with strands of fine blond falling in front of his face. Unable to help yourself, you brushed your fingers through his soft hair and tucked the loose strands behind his pointed ears. Ever so slightly, your fingertips brushed against the shell of his sensitive ears. The feeling made him shudder against you, even closing his eyes for a moment.

You smiled when he opened his bright blue eyes. In them, you saw a gentleness Thranduil reserved only for you. It was the same look he would send your way at galas, when he was bored with the tales told by travelers in his kingdom. That look made you feel like the most important person in any room. Simply because you knew Thranduil as no one else did. You knew his nature, his wants, his loves, and his possessive streak.

So, you were not surprised to feel his hands resting against your hips, fingers pressing into your clothes, lightly into your flesh. With one tug, you knew he could pull you back to him if he so pleased. 

“I am no thief,” you stressed, fingers tightening around the ring. True, the price of the jewelry was a steal but you had not stolen it. Perhaps Thranduil meant something else by his teasing allegation. But what?

“I know guilt and worry when I see it. You would make a shoddy crook.” You opened your mouth for a silent gasp. Offended, you softly slapped a hand against Thranduil’s chest. Your other hand remained at your side, clasped firmly shut, still holding the ring.

“A crook,” you couldn’t help the smile that spread on your lips, a mixture of nerves and joy. “What am I guilty of then?”

Thranduil’s little grin suddenly faded. His feature grew sharp and serious as he leaned down towards you. As he grew closer you couldn’t help but steal glances at his lips. The looks did not go unnoticed by the Elf king. He teased you with his proximity, brushing the tip of his nose against yours before he finally spoke.

“Of stealing my heart away.”

You met Thranduil’s gaze one last time and, before your eyes closed, you saw only heart aching sincerity. He pulled you flush against him, as close as he could get you, for a searing kiss. Slotted perfectly together, you wished for the rest of the world to melt away. Leave only you and Thranduil behind, together like this forever. That alone would be enough.

Both of your hands moved to rest on his chest. The one still holding the ring was still curled into a tight fist; the other was an open palm. Thranduil’s lips moved from yours to your jaw, barely brushing the top of your neck. The feeling birthed a jungle in your belly. A jungle full of butterflies that tickled your insides with excitement. Only Thranduil could make you feel such want, such glee. When he pulled away from your neck, you were left near breathless.

“I do not want it back,” he continued, leaning down to capture your lips with his for a precious few seconds. “Keep it for when I feel I cannot love.”

“You always love, Thranduil, despite how hard you try not to.” At your words, the Elf king pulled back. His hands went yours that still rested against his chest. His fingers slid around your wrists, stroking the skin of your forearms as lightly as a breeze. One curious touch and he would find the ring. Though, Thranduil had turned your attention away from your ‘stolen’ surprise.

“Tis you that loves in every moment, every minute, every day. And I love you for it. What could I, what...what is this?” One of his finger taps your closed fist and you feel your face warm. “Perhaps you are guilty after all, meleth nîn?”

“I fear I may be,” you reply as you pull your hand free from his. Shyly, you uncurl your fist to reveal the silver band of metal leaves. “I had this crafted for you. In honor of our union, tomorrow.”

Thranduil, smiling, covered your hand and the ring with his own hand. “Today.”

“What do you mean?” 

Thranduil turned you in his arms so that your back was pressed against his chest once more. From the edge of the balcony, vertigo forgotten now, you saw the first hints of a sunrise. Many years ago today, Thranduil became yours and you, his. His hand moved and he slid the ring over one of his fingers. The silver metal shone in stark contrast to his pale skin. He made the ring look beautiful, worthy of his wearing. 

“I love this gift,” he whispered, his voice low and warm in your ears. You feel Thranduil press a kiss to your hairline as you watch the sunrise. “I love you more.”

“I love you, Thranduil.” After a moment, you feel his fingers skirt along your jaw and your chin. He tilts your head so that you have to look up into his face. His blue eyes are merry, bright, as he stares loving down at you. A few moments of just watching each other pass before Thranduil closes the gap with another, long kiss. 

So, you were a crook, not in the traditional sense. But you would happily steal kisses from your king any day.

AN: “meleth nîn” - “my love”