#the library? he read it thrice already

[sadlynotthevoid]

I was feeling like a bit of slightly-angsty isolation this thursday, so...

AU where, instead of a double transmigration happening, RokSoo transmigrated to ogCale's body, but ogCale was put into a newly made double of his body and confined into a dimension pocket.

And just, no one knows about it and he can't get out until certain conditions are reached. For example: that someone finally gets rid of WS.

Luckily for him, RokSoo and company are rather fast to kill the white star. It only took them two years, way better than in his previous timeline.

Although, those are still two years in which og!Cale, the 40-year-old war soldier turned an 18-year-old time-traveler, had to spend trapped in that place. Completely alone except for the occasional god checking on him, and a few animals a god had the kindness to let for him. (It was Loki, but no one is going to call him out).

Og!Cale is a person who loves easily and deeply but, contrary to his true nature, someone who lived through decades without deep boundaries to gave him feedback. Whether it was during the war that took everyone he knew from him, or before that, with the family he choose to stay at distance and love them from the side-lines. He lived so long without feeling genuine care, making any emotional bond that isn't one-sided, that he's hungry for them.

Being in the past, where everyone he loves hadn't died yet, where they will live, and being so close— just a dimensional door away, really— but not being able to see them, hear them, nor even talk to them... It hurts.

He's happy and so, so glad. They're alive. They can laugh and eat and breath again— and, someday, he will see them again. Even if they don't know how to act with him and is uncomfortable. Even if, most probably, they don't know he's not there and don't miss him, he will see them again.

So, yeah, he's fine with this situation. He accepted this.

That doesn't mean that the waiting doesn't suck. He, a freedom loving person, trapped in the godly version of a safehouse. Most of the days it's only he, his thoughts and the ridiculous massive library Athena managed to fit in here. And his friends, the animals, of course.

Inside of that lonely place, of course, Cale gets attached to the animals that are by his side everyday. He was already an animal lover, to begin with. The little guys who just go through their lives being absolutely adorable and are more loyal than most people around... How can he not love them?

Besides, Athanasia, the griffin, gives the best cuddles he has ever had.

He gets used, eventually. It's not like he never had lived in a big house where the only beings around wouldn't speak more than three words to him. (Well, at least the animals try to talk with him. He just needed to learn what they mean.)

And Cale can do whatever he wants here. If he wants to play the violin or paint, do acrobatics or keep his training, he can just do it. There's no need to hide. No need to restrain himself.

There's no one here to get sad at her memories. No one to spread rumors about 'skills' or 'talents'. No one to turn his interests into weapons against his own family by comparing Bassen to him.

Eventually, it feels like a different kind of freedom here.

—And then he gets out.

[back2bluesidex]

Third Time is a Charm - KNJ (18+)

Patreon Membership Exclusive Drabble Series

Part of Bangtan Chaebol Universe

Pairing: Chaebol!Namjoon X Fem, lawyer!Reader

Theme: angst, pining, exes to strangers to lovers au.

Summary: You met Namjoon thrice in your life. For the first encounter, you were his rival. During the second one, he broke your heart. As for the third time, you let him walk in again even when he brings no promise of healing what he broke.

But they say, third time is a charm. Will that stay true in your case too?

Warnings: Angst, high school setting, competitive reader, tiny fluff, discovering crush.

A/N: This is a part of the Patreon exclusive ot7 series of Bangtan Chaebol Universe. Jungkook and Jimin's story is already completed. and Namjoon's is the next in line. This story is kind of overlapped with Jungkook's one, anyone who has followed From Within will know why.

Chapter Index: -

Part 1: The heart shaped hair pin

Part 2: Chaebol took the subway?

Part 3: The first kiss

Part 4: Recipe for a heart break

Part 5: Third time as grown ups

Part 6: All the clouds are in a silver lining

Part 7: Making and breaking boundaries

Part 8: [28th November, 2024]

Part 9: [5th December, 2024]

Part 10: [12th December, 2024]

“Your place or mine? Or better, the library?” Namjoon had questioned, staring down at you expectantly, clearly too excited to be induced into a science project. 

While it was unlikely for the teachers to pair two good students up on the same team, it was the lottery which put you and namjoon together. 

That is where the concept of being destined first struck you. 

Though you had brushed it off. 

“Library sounds good.” you answered. 

Later while working on the project, he had asked you another question, something very personal this time. 

“Why do you think I am your enemy?” He gave you his utmost attention. 

“I- what?” your pen scratched against the surface of the notebook crudely. 

“You think I am your rival or something. I know. I am asking you why?” He kept an impassive look on his face. 

“I used to top before but I come second these days. Also.. you got it all. It kind of annoys me.” You had answered truthfully, without showing the courtesy of masking your language. 

“I got it all?” Namjoon raised an eyebrow. 

“Yeah. You are good at studies and your family is rich.” you shrugged. 

He had chuckled then, “Just because I am good at studies and I have a wealthy family, doesn’t mean I got it all, Y/N.” 

It was the first time he called you by your name. 

And that was the moment you decided to start liking him a bit - only a bit.

Read the full chapter on Patreon.

[haikyuulovercompany]

Late Night Study ~ Sugawara Koushi x Reader

All you wanted was to be in bed, cozy and wrapped around your boyfriend's arms. Instead, you were in the cold library, begging amidst sleepy eyes to call it a night. Why was Koushi so damn responsable? Original Request

Genre: Fluff. College!Sugawara

Warnings: None.

Words: 1.2k

Notes: What's with me and writing so much about studying lately? I swear I don't miss studying.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Come on, get your head up,” Sugawara insisted between whispers for the fifth time in the last half an hour.

You had your head lying on top of the notebook you were supposed to be studying from—not sleeping on it.

Sugawara took your head carefully with both hands and elevated it till his eyes met with yours, practically forcing you to look at him. Your eyes felt heavy and you could tell he probably felt the same. Right under caramel eyes, two dark half-moons overshadowed the usual shiny, pale skin. Your lips perked up in a tired pout and your eyebrows slightly furrowed. You were utterly displeased by the whole situation. If it was up to you, you would be in your dorm room, warm under a blanket with your boyfriend pressed against you and your laptop playing a movie for you two to doze off to. Instead, you were in the cold library under the horrible pressure of an upcoming final exam.

“We need to study,” Sugawara insisted, only causing your frown to deepen. He muffled a lazy chuckle. He lowered his hands so they were now wrapping your cheeks and he gently squeezed them, making your pout more pronounced. He chuckled again. “Just a little bit more. It’s a hard test.”

 “I know,” you sighed, setting yourself free from his playful hold. “It’s just… I rather we were cozy in my room. I’m tired and cold.”

You rested your back on the chair and threw your head backwards, shutting your eyes immediately before the heavy lights above you made them hurt. A few seconds later, you felt your arm being pulled, bringing your body back to the table. You were met with Sugawara’s begging face, silently pleading you to at least try. You sighed and nodded, giving in. He was not going to leave the library just yet, and you were definitely not leaving without him.

You rested your elbows on the table and focused on your notes again. You felt his smile on you, and for a moment, that smile inspired you to actually study and not just stare at the sentences on the white paper. He had been the one to help you organize your notes into an incredibly well detailed guide. He was right… After all the effort he was putting on helping you study, you could at least try a little harder.

You began from the top of the page, reading each sentence twice and sometimes thrice just to make sure the information was properly allocating itself in your brain—which was a massive challenge. Your eyelids got heavy again and the perfect silence of the space made it impossible to hold onto something that would stop you from closing your eyes. Eventually, it was inevitable. It was past ten in the night and you had been awake since six in the morning coming and going through exams and classes. Your head fell on your hand and then it slipped until your forehead met with the cold paper in a dry ‘thud’.

The sound of a hand slapping skin could be heard next as Sugawara covered his mouth, doing his best to stop his laughter. Even though it was late, you two weren’t the only ones in the library. A couple of students were already throwing shady glances at you thanks to the loud noise your forehead crashing on the table had made to then have Sugawara laughing out loud, disrupting everyone who was successfully focusing unlike you.

“Come on, we can do it,” he whispered to you once he had calmed down. You nodded, already knowing you were done for.

You sighed and pretended to read from the page, but you secretly used your arm to cover your phone and began trying the games you had downloaded there. It had been months since you had touched them but for the time being, they were the best you had. You peeked at your boyfriend. He was completely immersed in his notebook, using his pen to follow his lecture. It was better to not bother him. So, you turned your head and began playing your little mobile game in mute. Maybe you couldn’t study, but at least you would make him company.

Just like Sugawara in his study guide, you got completely lost in your game. So much, you hadn’t notice twenty minutes had gone by until you were called out, being caught

“Weren’t you studying?” Sugawara asked, perplexed. While you slightly jumped at his voice, you didn’t bother to move your head which was practically laying on the table. You only moved your eyes, directing at him. The dark circles around his eyes had just gotten worse and now you could see the thin red lines of the veins of his eyes. He was truly forcing himself to get through his study guide.

“Koushi… let’s leave,” you pleaded, then sat straight before continuing. “What’s the use of staying up studying if you’re going to be tired during the exam?”

This time, he didn’t rebut nor sent you straight back to your notebook. This time, you saw the hesitance in his face and how his fingers played with the corners of the notebook. Any sign of exhaustion in you disappeared at the sign of him wanting the same as you.

“Come on,” you insisted, leaning more into the table till half your body was on top of it and both your arms covered his notes. “You’re tired, too.”

The answer you got was something you didn’t expect. With his elbows on the table he elevated himself so his lips caught yours in an impossibly soft and slow kiss. It wasn’t coming from a place of lust, but because of how sluggish and weary he was. He was giving you all the energy left in him into that kiss. On any other occasion, that type of kiss would melt you into a mess of hormones–it still kind of did, but you were too tired to flirt. He pulled his head back and tilted to look at you. You could see from the corner of your eyes the people on the table next to you watching the little love-show you were putting up. You responded with another peck on his lips.  

“Is that a yes?” you asked.

Sugawara nodded. “Get me out of here.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

♡ Thanks for reading! ♡

[yandere-paramour]

I know kids have been asked about but how they would they treat a physically pregnant darling?

From the second he learns about your pregnancy, Vivien dedicates himself to making this as easy as possible. He checks out all the books on babies at the library, reading and taking notes on everything. He wants to study every technique, every opinion, anything to ensure you have the safest and most comfortable pregnancy possible. You can't stop working, but as soon as you get home, he directs you to put your feet up and relax. Anything you're craving, he'll cook it for you. Need the remote, he's up and grabbing it. Morning sickness, he's holding your hair back and working with his herbs to find a concoction to beat it. Our sweet Vivien will run himself ragged trying to look after you. He says you're "growing body parts" so him running out at 3am to get sesame chicken is nothing. He shows up to every single doctor's appointment with a notepad, even if it's in the middle of the work day, taking copious notes on whatever the doctor says. He is also incredibly worried, but he doesn't want to annoy you or make you mad at him. He constantly checks how you’re feeling, reminding you regularly to tell him if you feel anything strange or wrong and he'll rush you straight to the doctor. He'll ask for the both of you to take gentle walks, to lay in bed a while longer, to eat more vegetables for the baby's health. He is fully aware that while this is your undertaking, he needs to take responsibility and be the best husband he can be. Any requests about the birth are honored, and he is the kind of guy to be fully involved by letting you squeeze his hand as hard as possible. He will also cut the cord and pull the kid out himself if he has to, he's not squeamish. He volunteers for every diaper and late-night feeding, and he will massage your aching stretch marks at least thrice a week. He starts out somewhat awkward with the baby, he has never had much experience with little children, but the love he holds for his child is almost tangible. He rambles to them constantly, talking about his plants, his work, and how much he loves his new little family.

Atalanta is pleased but concerned. She is not panicked like Vivien; she knows that the pregnancy itself is already implanted in the uterus, and thus, the hard part is done. She can take care of the rest. She becomes stricter when you're pregnant. Your main rule now is to do nothing that could put you or your daughter in harm's way, no junk food, a daily gentle exercise schedule, and your outfits planned by her to make sure you’re not putting unnecessary pressure on your abdomen. Atalanta cannot take a chance on losing this child; she needs an heir, therefore this child will be born and born healthy. She will pay an entire team of doctors to consult on your pregnancy with daily checkups to ensure everything is going right, no matter how annoying it is. You can still spend time with your friends and family, the time is just now limited because she wants you home and taking a rest once a day now. She completely stops all punishments, she is too scared that even hurting your feelings will damage the child somehow. Any small slights will be forgiven, and anything major will be remembered until after the birth. She buys only the latest, most well-studied baby equipment, and hooks you up to it daily. She will allow you to take charge during the birth, she knows it is a sensitive and delicate time, but she wants to cut the cord and hold the child first. After the birth, congratulations: you have earned the ultimate rest. Atalanta will bring in a trusted nurse to care for the child, and you do not have to worry about any of the gross things like changing diapers or dealing with spit-up. You just have to focus on healing and bonding with your new daughter. If you would like, Atalanta knows of a wonderful spa for postpartum mothers in California. It's only 1k per night; she can easily set up a month for you and the child to recover there; she'll just have to work remotely for a while. Atalanta loves her daughter; she is a good mother, albeit a little distant, but she will support and care for her child through everything.

[recitedemise]

Can you imagine Gale during his isolation? An entire year, an entire year with little more than the shadows swelling in the corner of your library and the growing thoughts pressing hard against the cage of your skull. Gale with his Molotov of emotions, his bouts of extreme sorrow, bone-crushing hopelessness, the anger, the bitterness, the acceptance of a guilt he has no business accepting. Imagine how he suffered before he found out how to temper the teeth and hunger of the orb in his chest. Did he suffer? Did the rot spiral to a frightening degree? What he thought when he felt the skin of his arm break, spot the drip of blood that poured not red but purple, a shade of purple so steep and dark that it paled night and voids and whole penumbras. How he felt as Tara turned her eyes on him, her composure riled, ruptured just a touch with a worry she tries so very hard not to show around Mr. Dekarios. How he felt getting letters from acquaintances, not friends, that dwindled and dwindled as the months passed on with no response from Gale of Waterdeep, famed archmage and lover of Mystra herself. How he lost so much of his magic. How he felt spurned from the goddess he looked up to for nearly all his life, how he felt when the Weave, when the spells he spent so long learning and perfecting were torn from him, swallowed by this sucking bomb in his bones.

How alone. How quiet. How Tara would leave to find artefacts once they discovered the Weave inside them would balm and thwart his ticking doom by a whisper of time. How, in those days, he would sit there with books he's already read thrice over, his hair speckled with more grey, the beard he's been growing out scratching against his face. His lonely terrace. Mother's tone of increasing concern in her hand-written letters, piled together on Gale's desk with quaint twine, the broken seal of House Dekarios waxed in an indigo shade over the parchment. It smells of her. He misses home, and home has never felt so far.

[imaginesofeverykind]

Countermeasures

Dark Wizard! Sebastian Sallow x Baroness Reader |PT.1|

Summary: Another wizard darkens the doorstep of the Stone family Chataeu to win the favour of the Baron's daughter, only you are not the young woman people suspect you to be despite your fathers infamy as a dark wizard, you are much worse.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: Implied assault/SA (not written that way but i can see how it would be interpreted as such), time period mention of child brides/young brides

A/N: I wanted to explore being a darker counterpart, not necessarily 'evil' but something thats like the evil couple who would kill for each other type beat.

”My Lady! Quickly!” The servant girl hollered in an attempt to capture your attention. It was a dreary morning as the fog settled low beneath the tallest room in the Chateau, however the grounds were just barely visible. The servant girl was all but pressed right up against the large window lavishly crafted with serpents around the frame.

Your face scrunched into annoyance, having reached a rather interesting chapter of a book from the house's extensive library, despite the disruption you humoured the servant girl, she was after all, the only one kind enough to share in your company unlike the others.

“What is it?”

“Were you expecting visitors today?” She pointed excessively on the glass in reference to the carriage that sat idle beside the fountain in front of the entrance. Visitors were far and few between these days, many people simply too afraid to leave their homes in wake of the rampant increase of dark wizard activity. The only people who even dare come seek your father were a handful of dark wizards themselves and the occasional Ministry worker snooping around.

Your father hadn’t mentioned meeting with anyone in particular on this day which usually meant what you suspected upon eyeing the figures ushering into the front doors of your abode. A smile pulled on your lips though it was sinister indeed, “it seems we have another daring individual asking The Baron for my hand.”

“Shall I escort you to the assembly room, my Lady?” The servant pulled back from the window, hands clasped behind her back and awaiting for the coveted ‘yes’ as if it were second nature.

”No not really, whatever sniveling brat wants to see me they will have to wait until I finish my reading.” You cited as if bored and reclaimed your spot on the loveseat by the fire, picking up where you left off.

“Shall I tell your father that is what you said?” She picked at her fingers nervously, never having had this response before and uncertain whether or not she wished to face The Baron's wrath at his daughter's insolence given his already prickly temper. You simply looked up over the book, locking eyes with her for a few brief seconds that felt like a lifetime and then flicked them back down to the page.

You needn’t say anything but the message got across loud and clear as the servant briskly made her exit. Despite the Chateau being cold and wicked, the servants were treated relatively fair all things considered, though the turnover rate was in excess due to both the Stone’s tempers often scaring off their workers. Servant Fae, however, remained the exception to the rule.

Fae was young, younger than most when she started at just thirteen, but she was a swift learner and had yielded somewhat of an obscene attachment to The Barons daughter, speculation accrued as it so often did but no one truly understood why out of all servants, Fae remained for as long as she did. Now aged fifteen, she approaches the assembly room with tentative courtesy, knocking thrice before entering and giving the Baron a bow, awaiting for her cue to speak.

The three gentlemen they had seen from the window above turned to greet the servant dismissively, wondering amongst themselves if this was the Lady Stone they’ve heard so much about.

”Speak, girl.” The Baron was short and snappy at the best of times, but the flicker behind his eyes indicated that he was vexed at his daughter's lack of presence, though he wasn’t surprised.

”The Lady expressed that she wishes to finish her book before coming down to meet anyone.”

“You are far too kind to my daughter, what did she say? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind our guests hearing what she thinks.” He was an instigator of chaos, many called him, and that he was in layman terms - a shit stirrer. Though cruel in many ways he was nothing if not supportive of his only daughter despite that she was now nineteen and yet to be wed.

Fae cleared her throat, eyes flicking cautiously to the three men who stood in-front of the Baron, remarkably young for suitors, compared to the last handful who were well into their thirties. “She said, ‘the sniveling brat can wait until I finish my book’ . I believe her words to be, perhaps a bit more abridged than what she originally said.”

Though despite the clear insult and lack of effort, the young man in the centre smiled at the prospect, “where can I find her?”

”I assure you, Mister Sallow, she will not take lightly to such impoliteness, but if you must. She’ll be in the library, I must warn you that it will be your funeral. She has a habit of misplacing men in the stone garden she doesn’t like.”

Despite the warning given, Fae escorted the young up and coming infamous wizard Sebastian Sallow to your usual resting spot. He was making waves in the wizarding world, having escaped imprisonment to Azkaban and running rampant across England as a force to be reckoned with. He was young, clever, and unimaginably gifted in the dark arts, learning all three unforgivable curses at just fifteen, he put most of the older wizards to shame and he knew it.

You, on the other hand, didn’t like to be interrupted. Especially reading, no one dared to be the source of such disruption, not even The Baron himself would bother dealing with being the object of your ire, though he had been known from time to time to interrupt. Not nearly, as badly as Sebastian Sallow had this particular morning.

Positively annoyed you were, not even sparing the two a glance whilst flicking the page across with a sigh. Fae made no moves to disrupt the stillness, not daring to speak over even the crackling of the fire in fear of what consequence may head her way. That was because she knew better.

Sebastian, did not.

“Lady Stone, I was informed I’d find you up here.”

”Are you deaf?” You clicked your tongue, still not making eye contact, staring at the book as the words blurred from focus. He uttered a mere ‘no’, and you proceeded, “are you blind then?” The question hung in the air for a short moment before also receiving yet another ‘no’, though his tone was soft, it didn’t tremble like most of them did when caught on the spot by you. “So — You must have heard dear Fae when she passed on that I wasn’t finished reading. And you clearly see that I am, in fact, still reading… So why am I being pestered by the sound of your voice?”

And you finally looked up, surprised to see not another older gentleman, but in fact someone your own age for once. Hardly anyone of nineteen or close had enough courage to muster up seeking you out of all suitors. Despite the shock, your quirked brows and pointed look hadn’t faltered while staring the young man down.

“Utmost apologies for the intrusion,” he wasn’t at all sorry, that much was clear as he sauntered forward, “I was simply dying to know what book could possibly be worth your time more than a — phenomenal, might I add — marriage prospect.” The two of you stared each other down, challenging one another almost silently, who would crack first? Sebastian Sallow or you?

”A servant's diary would be more worth my time to read than a marriage prospect to an imbecile who doesn’t respect a lady’s wishes. I don’t like you, or your attitude.”

“Well it’s a good thing I don’t want you to like me, I want you to love me… Perhaps we can help one another achieve the same goal,” his smarmy smile etched itself into the back of your mind, not to mention the cheeky gaze to top it off. Though, far be it for you to be challenged in your own home, to an outsider no less.

The book snapped close thanks to your swift hands, “and I suppose you think the best way to get a woman’s attention is to barge in, disrespect her and act high and mighty, is that it? I don’t even know who you are, boy.”

His lips twitched ever so slightly, “you may not know me, but I promise, you’ve heard of me. Sebastian Sallow, pleasure to make your acquaintance my Lady.”

You laughed, snorting it out as if pitying a joke that fell flat, but laughed nonetheless, “so you’re the petulant boy the ministry is folding in on themselves over? Those bumbling fools wouldn’t know how to organize a pissup in a brewery even if their life depended on it.”

”And you aren’t at all the wicked little witch I’ve heard in such harrowing detail about… Tell me, how is it, you’ve earnt such infamy if all you do is roam a single Chateau and never leave?” His hands were clasped firmly behind his back and his breathing was steady despite poking a lioness in her den. He very much liked your edge, the way your icy cold words cut through the air like a severing charm, if anything you had been nothing but faithful to the picture he had painted in his head.

“The secrets of my trade aren’t for the living I'm afraid, you’ll figure that out soon enough, Sebastian.” Tucking the book underneath your arm, in quick and decisive strides, you pass him on the way out of the library nook. He was charming, you had to admit, more charming than the droves of feeble-minded men that only spared interest in you for the power the Baron held in great honour. His interest had yet to be uncovered, and once it was, you wouldn’t mind playing with him in the meantime.

——

“—already memorized the layout of the place I see.” You had not spared a single glance Sebastian's way upon his arrival in the dining room for breakfast, too busy reading the book you unfortunately hadn’t finished three days ago due to the rude nature of the Stone Estates latest guests.

The Baron tutted, “Mister Sallow and his friends are guests until business has adjourned young Lady, I ask you show some respect.” Hidden within his words were a warning, though, he could also sympathize, his one and only daughter, Heir to the Stone Estate, name and Title, he would never willingly force you into a marriage but as time went on and no suitors met, he would need to bring the hammer down eventually.

You sighed, painstakingly stirring the teaspoon in your cup while continuing to read, “I seemed to have left my manners in the library. After all, I still haven’t finished reading which I recall requesting that I finish before meeting any guests.”

“Quite the contrary, my Lady. I was lost in the gallery until a servant girl found me.” Sebastian smiled, taking a seat directly across the table from where you sat peacefully, you assumed in an attempt to agitate you further.

The Gallery? Your ears pricked up at the comment. What are you doing all the way there? Though it was common knowledge amongst the servants that the Gallery split off into four different rooms, one of them being your room and the other three of varying degrees of significance like the Cursed Relics room and hidden passageway. It was nowhere near the guest quarters nor was it anywhere near the dining room where everyone resides presently. It could be benign, he may as well could’ve been lost on his way to the dining room, or a more likely story is that he was up to something nefarious.

With an eyebrow raised, finally lifting your eyes up to see Fae standing by the entryway, your gaze quizzical enough to make the girl shift on her feet. A tell tale sign that it would be worth asking her about Sebastian's detour when she had a moment alone if you don’t jump the gun and interrogate him first.

“I will be taking my leave, I have a matter that requires my handy work, I shall return in time for Supper.” The Baron rose out of his chair, walking around the table to plant a kiss on top of your head before promptly taking his leave. Part of him hoped that when he returned home Sebastian wouldn’t fall victim to a freak accident like so many before him had. He only wishes you a happy and content life once he is passed on, the same wish your mother had before her untimely death.

The room stilled, the only sound bouncing around the room was the soft clinking of the teaspoon you swirled absentmindedly in your teacup. The occasional dark oak floorboard creaked beneath the turkish rug gifted by a previous suitors family, but not loud enough to break the descending silence.

Sebastian cleared his throat, finally disrupting the peace which was rather irksome considering breakfast was one of your favourite times of the day, the way the morning sun shone through the towering glass windows, breaking golden rays across the deep and open dining room. Dust specs sparkled high in the air from the disturbances of people walking and moving, most likely falling to their usual spot in crevices and nooks that were far out of reach for the servants to clean.

“Say, who’s that?” Sebastian asked, gesturing over to the feature wall dressed in an ornate moody wallpaper and a singular large portrait that looked over the table. Its frame had such intricate snake detailing one couldn’t possibly see it all unless essentially standing underneath it, impressive handiwork, and even more impressive subject. The painted woman sat in a large baroque throne, skull detailing accented on the arms and head of the chair, she looked nearly vampire-esque with her severe and imposing look of malice etched across her face as the eyes of the portrait scanned the room, ever occasionally shifting in her throne and looking away at something else.

”Baroness Stone,” you answered flatly, knowing exactly who he was referring to without the need to even spare a glance. Between having met The Baron in person and sitting rather uncomfortably underneath the watchful glare of the late Baroness, it was clear to Sebastian that perhaps the reputation of the Stone’s was because of her. Sure, The Baron was imposing in his own right, but The Baroness had a certain cruelty that could be seen even in the eyes of her portrait.

“What was she like?”

”You’ve already asked a question, it’s only fair I ask one now…” Slamming your book shut, you leaned forward on the chair to look at Sebastian fully this time. He was broad in the shoulders, a face full of freckles like the dust specs that littered the air in your favourite places within the Chateau. He was dressed modestly, not exactly a paragon of wealth like all the others that had asked for your hand in marriage before and you admittedly did like that difference.

He shifted in his seat as if surprised by your forwardness, but nodded, “by all means My Lady.”

”You must think I’m as half-witted as my father, snooping around in the Gallery were you? What exactly were you hoping to find?” You folded your arms and stared at him expectantly, wondering just how hard or easy it would be to break him considering his rather stubborn vigor the night prior.

“That’s two questions,” he smugly smiled, “I didn’t think I’d be meeting my match here, you’re quite the observant witch I must admit. Well educated, despite not going to any wizarding school that I’m aware of… There’s nothing I can say or do that could possibly sway your distrust in me, is there?” The sincerity in his voice was nearly convincing, had you been as dim-witted as some of the girls in the literature you read, perhaps it would be believable. But there was something off about him.

Fingers drumming against your arm while letting the cogs tick away in your mind for a response, he certainly had a way with words that was surprisingly almost easy to fall for. “A spider doesn’t simply strike without watching her prey first, and you are hardly the epitome of trust since you’ve been spouting half truths ever since you arrived here. So perhaps we’ll agree to disagree — to answer your first question, this is what my mother was like, she brought me up to always second guess the truth a man tells you because it’s always a half truth. For the sake of the narrative, maybe you are interested in my hand in marriage but it's not the only thing you want, so I ask again, what were you doing snooping in the Gallery?”

The room stilled in absolute silence, nothing, not even the floorboards dared make a sound as your icy glare found his gaze, scrutinizing every motion he so desperately thought was near perfect upon arrival. Perhaps he was wrong for underestimating you, assuming that a woman from a wealthy family would be sheltered enough to not question many things. Your wrathful honesty may perhaps had been what gave you such infamy in the first place, and Sebastian is finally understanding why many were smart enough to fear you.

For the first time since he arrived he resigned to the fact that maybe the best way to earn your trust and get what he was after, would be to start telling the truth, which was a much harder thing to accomplish and he had accomplished a lot in nineteen years of life. There was a very distinctive shift in his body language and behavior that was noticeable almost immediately, his knee began to bounce as if it had a mind of its own and his eyes started to look elsewhere in the room.

”I suppose… It would make sense that you should understand where I came from… Why I’m here,” He started, playing with his fingers as he starts the story from its beginning, from the night his twin was cursed, sowing the seeds of his dark nature as it only continued to bloom on his hunt for a cure. He divulged in not great amounts of detail about the tumultuous fifth year he had at Hogwarts, only sparing the parts that made sense to who he became to be. Learning the three Unforgivable Curses, using all of them at one point at only fifteen, two on his fellow classmates and friends, and one on his uncle.

“— I… Well, I didn’t mean to.” He paused.

”You’ve been honest until this point, don’t start lying now,” your words had visibly annoyed him, his chest puffing out to defend himself but you were quicker, “the unforgivables are called that for a reason, saying you didn’t mean to kill someone with one of them contradicts its existence… You meant it at the time and now you feel remorse, don’t mix the two emotions up.”

He laughed bitterly, “remorse? My uncle was angry and cruel, he had it out for me the second my parents died and it only got worse with time. I’m only sorry that his death cost me my sister.” His emotions had rung surprisingly high, though you supposed it made sense given the nature of the conversation, he was divulging a lot of his past which clearly still rubbed raw his feelings to this day.

”You’re the one that said you ‘didn’t mean to’, I’ve still yet to figure out how this ties into us, so keep going.” You urged, unphased by his emotional outburst, it was nowhere near as volatile as your fathers could be and perhaps your unflinching composure had been exactly what Sebastian needed to calm himself down.

”I went through all of my fifth year at Hogwarts thinking Goblins were the reason my sister was cursed. But it was never them, it was Victor Rookwood who did this to her. Every wizard, witch or even muggle that is associated with him has met their end until I find him and kill him myself.”

This was news to you, fairly certain that the daily prophet had reported on his death four years ago. It was a surprise to find out that maybe he cheated death after all. “And I’ll take a shot in the dark — My father has something to do with him.”

“You’re a far more clever witch than I'd anticipated, I figured if I could snake my way into this family and have your father meet an untimely death, perhaps even you too. And when Rookwood came crawling back to this estate for The Baron's help, it would be me who lay in waiting and it'd be the last thing he’d ever see.”

You leaned back onto your chair and hummed in surprise, you were certain he was up to something but hadn’t quite expected that, but after hearing what he had to say, explaining his history it began to make sense. The daily prophet articles written about rogue wizard Sebastian Sallow, really he was more or less an unlicensed vigilante Auror at this point, he was admittedly far more effective. Though, you supposed he wasn’t just targeting dark wizards, he was also killing muggles.

”I admire your dedication, though your plan is positively flawed and would fail without question.”

“Oh, pray tell what you have in mind for a successful plan then, my Lady.”

You looked off to the corner of the room, absently tapping your feet on the floor while keeping the train of thought going in your mind, “one doesn’t simply become Baron of the Stone Estate. We’ve been in illicit doings for centuries, our roots are buried far deeper than you could possibly imagine. We have allies in the ministry, allies in the muggle world and two Aurors off the top of my head that work in tandem with this family. How do you think my parents got away with so much to earn their titles here? It’s not given to us by birthright, it's earned.”

“Then indulge me on what a girl who was homeschooled here her entire life has done to earn her title,” he looked you up and down, seemingly frustrated at your attempts to pull apart his entire plan, a plan that you guessed had been in the works for several years.

”Don’t be petty, I’m simply stating that if both of the Stones go missing, no corner of this earth could you hide where someone wouldn’t hunt you down. It’s a corrupt place out there, you need only know how to control it so that it works in your favor — come with me, it's time for a stroll outside, don't you agree?”

——-

The grounds surrounding the Chateau were ever expanding it seemed, closest to the home itself were the carnation bushes and enchanted hedges, more snake motifs littered among the detailing of the castle one might have assumed it was a Gaunt estate, Sebastian wouldn’t have been the first to think it either.

”I’d almost go as far as to say you’ve stolen this place from the Gaunts,” he commented as the two of you strolled underneath the ivy canopy into the vast array of different flowers. It was an assault on the senses almost, flashes of vibrant otherworldly colours on different shaped stems and heads, the smell was so thick it was nearly suffocating.

“Apparently you must be a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin to enjoy snakes now do we? I find them rather interesting if it's all the same to you,” It was no secret you favored reptiles over any other creature, dragons being one of your favorites but the serpent could never be beaten. Perhaps it was due to your love of old literature of different cultures that aided the love for snakes, they were highly regarded in many ancient historic cultures and were a symbol for power.

“I didn’t say that — though you would’ve made a great Slytherin.” He mumbled the last part, certain that in a different lifetime or universe where you had come to Hogwarts the two of you would be fast friends.

“That’s a pity, my family has a history of being Ravenclaws.” You mused, a smile on your lips as you practically glided through the gardens, your dress made of a fine black silk with dark blue accents that made it appear as if your feet weren’t even touching the ground. Sebastian had to chuckle at your response, understanding that given your affinity to reading and being as sharp as whip that perhaps being in Ravenclaw made perfect sense.

He then grew somber almost, lamenting on his past. Merlin how he missed his friends and classmates, he missed Hogwarts, walking the castle and going on weekend trips to Hogsmede, he’d even go as far to say that he missed Madame Scribner and the scolding she would have out for him for getting caught once again in the Restricted section.

There was a real attempt of normalcy after his fifth year concluded, he tried so hard to go into sixth year and leave his past behind him but it had lasted a meager two months before he couldn’t take it anymore. It wasn't long after he went into solitude that it came out what had occurred the year prior, The Ministry was on him ever since, trying to convict him for his uncle's murder.

The Dark Arts whispered to him like a lover that promised so much more than the life he had pretending he was a good person, it was easier for him to fold into the darkness than it was to follow the light. He hadn’t spoken to anyone since fleeing Hogwarts, not Ominis, not Anne, not Garreth or Imelda and certainly not his companion that had arrived in fifth year. His only friends were hardly that at all, many of the people he found himself with were more or less like colleagues than anything worthwhile. His hunt for Rookwood was all consuming, he didn't have time to make friends when he was out every other week tracking down Victor's allies and snuffing them out.

“Sebastian?” You had been watching him for a short while, hands cupped in one another neatly by your waist while waiting and the book you had been obsessively reading tucked under your left arm.

Hearing the softness in your voice caught him well off guard, snapping him back to the present and looking over, he almost forgot what the two of you were doing out here but quickly brought himself back on track, “how is a walk in the Garden proving anything?” He asked, almost irritated to be out in nature once he regained awareness of being outside. “Or are you simply walking me out here to kill me after I told you everything?”

A smile ghosted your lips, but you didn’t say anything and kept walking. The idea of your silence was to make him nervous. Why? Because, as the late Baroness always said, it was fun to play with your food. Successful in that venture, he still followed tentatively behind at a bit more of a distance in case his hypothesis was correct and that you were, infact, going to kill him. Or at least try to.

It was almost instantaneous, the divide from the gardens littered with plants to the mass yard of statues, it was almost like a stone maze, which would be aptly named given the family name.

Sebastian walked up to one of the statues in curiosity, a wizard who stood proud and tall. The sculpture was worn and had shown clear signs of weathering, at least in comparison to the statue adjacent to it. Another wizard statue, this one a lot less composed than the last, fearful features striking across his face and body language.

”Snakes have this incredible literary motif that I think a lot of people tend to overlook,” you paced around another statue, “for instance, a lot of the time they can be perceived as wise while they also can be perceived as deceitful… And I think two things can be true at once.”

You pulled out the book from the crook of your arm and opened it up, “the other night you asked me what book was so good I refused to meet with you — It’s a book of greek tragedies and alleged myths, another culture that looked to Snakes as powerful. But the story my mother told me when I was young was what always stuck with me… Medusa, a tragedy about a mortal woman who was seduced by Poseidon and cursed by Athena — Or was she assaulted by a man and given a protective curse by Athena to thwart that ever happening again? You’re well versed in history, yes?”

Sebastian looked at the statues surrounding them, all wizards, all varying degrees of fear, anger and stoicism imposed on their stone form, “I’m aware of the myth. My sister would read me these as bedtime stories.”

”Wonderful. Well lets just say, its an inspired artform, a homage if you will. I’ve been heir to this family name since I was born, I’ve had suitors knocking on our door since I was eleven asking to marry me, me?! A child. Men coming to inspect me since before I even had my first blood, can you imagine? Forty year olds, thirty year olds, always older and never my own age. I was fourteen when the first incident happened, he was a git that one, mother didn’t like him very much but it was my ‘duty to humour the men who come all this way to see me’. He said vile things but I had already started raiding my fathers bookshelves on dark magic and more archaic curses that aren't all that common anymore. I do hope you like my handy work, it's a more permanent curse than the full body-bind curse, turns the other person to stone entirely.”

You were sickeningly proud of what you’d done to men by the dozens, and why shouldn’t you be? You were content in your own company and didn’t need blubbering fools to satiate your needs better than yourself. “And the best part of it all, they’re still alive. They can hear us right now and they can live in that torment for all I care.” The way your voice hadn’t wavered once, sent shivers down Sebastian’s spine, he had done nothing but underestimate you the entire time he’s been a guest and he was beginning to question his own judge of character.

”I suppose I’ll be next then?” He asked, though trying his best to not sound nervous.

There was silence while you thought, circling the statue he stood in front of and tilting your head to the side, “I haven’t made my mind up yet. Though is this answer adequate enough for you? Is this worthy enough of earning my title?”

[floxtingdrm]

𝙎𝙖𝙪𝙙𝙖𝙙𝙚

(N): a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant, or that has been loved then lost; “the love that remains.

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff (I think)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Silver (vanrouge)

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞: On

𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞: Oneshot.

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬: They/them

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It’s you and I, keeping our story under the wraps

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: None.

What else were you gonna say about your life? That you wish it didn’t have to be like this or that you’re bored out of your mind? You liar~ Nothing was boring with him around, wasn’t it?

Your prince, Silver was everything you wanted in a lover and more, opposite to most of the student at NRC he was a pure gentleman to you and a sweet lover even with his strange sleeping schedule. Despite being in a secret relationship, having it well kept between you and him only, you both can’t help but make a few people stare at you with the look of ‘something feels weird’

Maybe we should go back to the start of how you both came to be? It’s not a long story when you think about it, in fact he was the one who approached you, just after Leona’s overblot.

“Silver, thank you for helping us, Prefect…?” Silver hair and aurora eyes, he was breathing taking for a first meeting.

“(Y/n), (Y/n) (L/n). Glad to be of service to you and Diasomnia.” You quickly brushed it off though, back then you still hadn’t entirely gotten over the overblot situation and was still so scared.

“…Are you okay?” If he hadn’t asked that would he have made an impact on you? Would you still have remembered those lilac eyes? Maybe you would, but you also wouldn’t.

“Ah I’m good! Thank you for worrying.” You had no choice but to keep to yourself, a world you’re unfamiliar with, did Silver saw his younger self in you?

It was a strange meeting maybe but, just with those little words you kept hearing over and over again, your heart began to loosen up a bit. After that meeting, you both coincidentally kept meeting each other, what was it they often say?

Once was chance, you never thought you’d see him again after the spell drive tournament, neither did he, in all honesty you had already kind of liked him like how friends would.

“Oh it’s you prefect, what brings you to the library?” You happen to visit the library to review for the mid-terms, looks like you happen to meet him again.

“Mid-terms, I just needed something on the ‘New age of Lacuna’” since being a first year focused more on information and writing you had no choice but to read references for history class.

“I have it, you wanna read it together?” What’s the worse that could happen between sharing and reading a book? The spark to your relationship of course.

Twice is a coincidence, your relationship started to bloom as you both kept in touch for school problems, you began to talk to him more about your problems with unable to handle most of the work handed, he talked to you about his sleeping problems.

“Oh, I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.” Poker face from start to end, every time you saw him you wonder what he would like liked if he started smiling.

“Haha I’m kind of just buying essentials but nice to see you to, Silver.” Sam came back and handed you a bag filled with hygiene things as well as a separate box for Tuna cans.

“You need help?” Despite protesting, Silver still carried the heavy box of tuna cans for you, at this point you were already somewhere on the verge of falling in love.

“ You really don’t have to help me.” All you had as an answer was his hunm in agreement.

“So? I wanted to help you.” Honestly it’s a miracle you haven’t started staring at him up and down, or maybe you did? Either way you were sure your heart was beating of your rib cage when you saw those lovely eyes.

Thrice was fate, the third time you met and afterwards all you could began to think was about him. You did consider the chances of being in a relationship with him, you really did but you were just so afraid of breaking your heart for so many reasons that you started distancing yourself from him.

“Prefect, what are you hiding here for?” That afternoon you were so overwhelmed you couldn’t even attend class, you just had to make a deal with Azul and was facing a huge chance of losing the Ramshackle dorm.

“…” you didn’t know what to do other than stare at the ground, as you sat on the grassy field all alone with your thoughts.

“I happened to hear about your situation… if you want you could stay with me.” His words surprised you, however it wasn’t the fact that you could have the potential of losing your dorm that made you so tired, it was the planning on breaking in a museum.

“I- really thank you, but I’m fine, I don’t want to bother you.” He looked bothered by your words, was it something you said?

“Idiot, you can’t keep going on like this, you’ll burn yourself out.” With that said though you thought he’d go away, but it surprisingly he stayed there, he stayed there for you.

Let’s just say after your fourth meeting, you and him just closer and closer than before, how were you so lucky as to meet him?

More and on about your relationship, you both felt like there was no reason to announce it and just left it just as it is, however when you both eventually started dating there was a big talk about how you both were gonna meet each other with your schedules being a bit different and busy.

In the end, you both just decided to go on dates at night, most of them were picnic dates, some times a walk in the woods, there were also study dates. Although his strange sleeping habit of falling asleep in the middle of nowhere gave you a heart attack, you found it quite cute, you avoided walks after his last falling asleep in the woods.

It would have been fun if you could have continued keeping your relationship just low-key, but it didn’t stay as a secret for long. Just somewhere around winter break, your lover wanted to bring you home with him however you couldn’t agree.

“Are you sure, darling? It’s rough staying at the school in breaks, I’m not forcing you but are you sure?” You felt his hands in your hair, untangling the knots and giving you a gentle head massage.

“Yes, I’m sure, I’ll be fine sweetie. Don’t worry too much about me.” You wished moments like these would last forever, they can last right?

“If you ever change your mind just give me a call alright?” You really wanted to go with him, but the crow really just had to make you babysit the school while he was away.

“Am I interrupting something?” Out of the dark and dimness of the lounge where you laid on your lover’s chest, Grim stood at the door annoyed and probably hungry.

That night you had to try and bribe grim from saying anything about your relationship, why you did that? You had no idea but just felt like it. Silver on the other hand didn’t really mind if news about your relationship got out, but since it looked like you didn’t enjoy it he just let you do as you pleased.

“Is there a reason why we should keep our relationship a secret?” Scribbling away you don’t seem to hear much of what he was saying, maybe it was something about his side of work?

“Not really, I’m not sure why… I’ve rarely been in a relationship before so I guess I was just worried?” When you managed to make out what he was saying you kind of just answered what you thought of first, should have payed attention to what he said.

“So you don’t mind if we made it public?”

“Well.. no, I really don’t mind”

“Hm”

Maybe if you were more conscious and thought careful about why he asked that, then maybe you could hold have been more mentally prepared. Because that was how you got into your current situation.

On the day of him going back home, you were also invited by some of your friends as well, mainly Deuce and Ace and just like with Silver you declined them, saying goodbye to your friends was like parents seeing their children off on a trip, ‘thank god they’re gone’.

“(Y/n), mind if I talked to you for a second?” He tapped on your shoulder, Ace and Deuce didn’t really noticed and just thought Silver needed something from you.

“Yeah su-“ All he needed from you was a goodbye kiss, and one that you didn’t even had the chance to react or explain to them, they all just stared at you as if you grew multiple heads.

What you technically didn’t expect was him giving you pda in public, that was one way of telling the world you both were dating but can’t he tell you beforehand? Now you’re as red as a tomato.

“SILVER, WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE BENEVOLENT THORN WITCH WAS THAT?!” Sebek gently asked in a not so gentle way, you just hid your face in Silver’s chest out of malfunctioning.

“A goodbye kiss, have Lilia and Malleus arrived?” He still hugged you, warm hands around your waist, you would have hit him but you loved him too much to do so.

You felt stares that seemed to burn into your skull, Ace and Deuce really wanted answers to what they just witnessed, they felt betrayed, how dare you keep your love life away from them?

“(Y/n)…”

“I can explain, hear me out.”

Despite saying that they still bombarded you with more questions you didn’t know how to answer, your lover just chuckled and had a rare smile on his face, oh no, you think you just fell harder in love with him.

“I’ll see you after break, remember, call me if you need anything” leaving you he began to walk away, perhaps you were feeling bold and didn’t notice Lilia right away.

“Hold on now, here’s one more goodbye kiss from me” kissing his cheek you chuckled as his face grew a bit red as well.

“You didn’t tell me you had a lover Silver, you wound this old bat” a smirk from Lilia, a grumble of embarrassment from your lover, he was definitely gonna get teased by Lilia later.

Thanks for reading! Please like and reblog it would help me out so much, thank you!

[transmascsteveharrington]

Eddie knows from a very young age that fate is cruel. He learns it from his parents first; learns that his mother was destined to shed tears and his father meant to roar in anger like the engines of the cars he steals. Tied together by cheap wedding rings, words on their wrists. They were stuck together unlike the love they used to hold for each other, that once upon a time had the power to turn black ink on their skin into glowing gold, but had left them as time passed by.

Eddie knows how to hotwire a car before he knows how to read. He knows it’s cut the yellow cable and stick the red and blue ones together before he knows that O follows N. He knows the sound of sirens at his heels before he knows the melody to sing his ABCs to. 

He does get to Z eventually, despite his extracurriculars. Recognises letters and merges them together into words. Reads a sentence. Reads another. Devours page after page, flicks through books with the same unstoppable force that his father gets caught up in poor choices with. Eddie ends up in fantastical stories, his father ends up in jail. 

There aren’t many books in the Munson household. So his mother tends to drop Eddie off at the library when he asks for a new one. Leaves him there until it’s closing time. Eddie doesn’t mind, doesn’t even notice, too enraptured by foreign worlds hidden behind rows of ink and knowledge pressed into paper. 

He likes fantasy best, develops a real soft spot for Tolkien even though some of the words he has to look up in a dictionary and reading them takes forever. But he isn’t picky. Reads anything Mrs. Hildich, the tired, old librarian, recommends. She has a soft spot for him, offers him some butterscotch and doesn’t scold him when he drinks a can of soda in the library. She knows how well he treats the books. 

After fantasy, Eddie’s second favorite books are the ones about soulmates. Or at least, it would seem that way to Mrs. Hildich at the speed Eddie devours them with. But it’s not joy or curiosity that drives Eddie, it’s worry and preparation. If having a soulmate means having the same kind of relationship his parents have, he has to be prepared. Has to know his options. Maybe there is a way to undo it all. 

Eddie is too young to really understand what irony means, but there definitely is a certain hint of it when his words appear the moment he has closed the last book about soulmates that he could find in the library. As if the universe watched him read, train up, and decided now that Eddie has all the knowledge, knows that there is no way out of this, that it is time. It’s late at night, Eddie stayed up reading far too long. He closes the book when the faint light of his bedside table lamp illuminates his wrist. The book tumbles out of Eddie’s hands and lands on the floor with a loud thud. 

With trembling hands he traces the letters on his wrist reading the two words etched into his skin and he feels nausea stir in his stomach. There is meant to be no sensation, no pain when the words appear. Still it feels like there is a knife carving them into the fiber of Eddie’s being. 

Dustin died. 

Eddie blinks. Then, in a frenzy, rubs his thumb over the words, once, twice, thrice, as if to hope that they smudge. Disappear. Change. But they don’t. Eddie stares at death and death stares right back at him. 

Eddie never wanted a soulmate, but this… this truly manifests his disdain for it all. On his wrist sit the words that his soulmate is going to say the moment they realize they are in love with Eddie. What kind of monster falls in love over another person’s death? Eddie might have a thing for the dark and macabre, but that is objectively fucked up. He doesn’t even know a Dustin and yet in the back of his mind, Eddie already has to grieve him. Or maybe, be relieved that he died? Eddie isn’t quite sure what’s worse. What he is sure about, is that he doesn’t want to meet his soulmate. Ever.  

He’s always been a momma’s boy. Eddie had thought it meant that he was kind, tried his best, was the kind of person that reminded people of summer days and running through golden fields of wheat laughing. But apparently it means that Eddie is destined to end up with the same kind of shitty person his dad is. Whoever his soulmate is going to be, Eddie already has a deep hatred for them.  

****

At the same time, on the other side of town, unbeknownst to Eddie, Steve’s hands are trembling just as much as he traces the dark ink covering his wrist alongside a multitude of freckles and moles. His stomach lurches similarly, but where dread had pooled into the pit of Eddie’s stomach, Steve’s fills with giddiness. It’s the same kind of nervous, excited flutter he gets on Christmas mornings or rollercoaster rides. The same kind of adrenaline-fueled tingle surging through him when his favorite nanny, Greta, chases him around the pool before she grabs and tickles him, both their delighted laughters echoing through the deafening quiet of the back yard. 

The giggle Steve lets out now is muffled by the blanket he is hiding under. He isn’t meant to still be up. But a nightmare had woken him, convinced him that there was a monster under his bed, just waiting to eat him. 

Steve struggles with letters and words, stutters more than anyone else when he is asked to read out loud, feels like the syllables are turning into glass shards in his mouth. But the words on his wrist are simple, only two of them. One is his own name, one of the few things he can read and spell without any problem. The other word is a simple hey. 

Hey, Steve. 

Warmth floods through him and with a smile on his lips he whispers back into the quiet of the night, “Hey, soulmate.” He is no longer alone, even without them in his room, he can feel their presence. Knows they’ll keep him safe. Knows the monster under his bed no longer poses a threat. And despite the excitement, Steve drifts off into a peaceful sleep. 

He runs down for breakfast the next day, excitedly calling out for his parents. Screams his mother’s name and waves his wrist up and down. His mother hisses for him to be quiet and to sit, nursing a cup of coffee while his father remains unapproachable behind a wall of newspaper pages. 

Steve knows better, he really usually knows better, but something buzzing inside of him makes him blow caution into the wind. Because this is important, right? This is huge, surely he can be forgiven for acting up. 

So he continues on, babbling ecstatically about getting his mark, about his soulmate, about how he is going to find and marry them. It’s enough for the top of the newspaper to be folded down. 

There is a scoff on his father’s face and for the first time that morning Steve grows quiet. 

“Don’t be stupid,” he says with a low voice. It’s a warning and the last time Steve’s father grants him an act of mercy. He then goes on to tell Steve that he isn’t going to marry his soulmate. That marriage is business and politics. Big words Steve doesn’t understand yet, but he does quickly understand having a soulmate has very little to do with it. His parents don’t carry each other’s words on their wrists, only expensive watches and pearl bracelets. They don’t even bother covering their words up, like most people. Proudly display the black ink as if people should admire them for choosing a union based not on love but rationality. Or greed. 

Still, they hand Steve a luxurious brown leather bracelet to cover up his mark. It’s unwise to display your words, frowned upon if you’re not mated or married. It’s best kept secret. 

And Steve loves secrets. Loves the whispered promise of just between you and me. Loves the thrill that comes with having something just for himself, maybe shared with one other he trusts blindly. That bond that comes with faces leaning closer and hushed words being revealed. 

Most of the time that person he shares secrets the same way she shares chocolate with him is Greta. Steve will crook his small fingers at her, asking her to come closer. Delight will flicker over her face before she turns serious, giving Steve her entire undivided attention. 

Steve has many secrets, some smaller, some bigger. But his biggest probably is hope. Hope that despite what his parents say he will be with his soulmate. 

“I’m gonna find my soulmate and marry them,” he whispers into Great’s ear, a giddy grin on his lips. 

“I know you will,” she says and reassuringly squeezes his hand. She hopes for him. Steve deserves the world in her opinion, but she knows what kind of people the Harrington’s are. Knows the kind of golden cage that’s going to keep Steve in the smalltown of Hawkins, Indiana. Knows that unless fate has been kind, Steve doesn’t stand a chance. 

Steve knows too, is not half as naive and oblivious as all the adults in his life think. He knows his parents like to act like the blacksmiths of his destiny, taking a blazing hammer to his bones until Steve bends and shapes the way they want. But they are only human and the universe is the universe. 

Someone out there loves him.  Someone out there wants him. Someone out there is waiting for him. Steve is determined. Just because his parents chose money and power over love, doesn’t mean Steve will do the same. He is going to find his soulmate and marry them. He is sure of it. He is careful not to wear his heart on his sleeve, but he wears hope instead. Fate knows what it’s doing. 

His faith in fate fades the fifth time someone calls out hey, Steve to him and the words on his wrist still do not turn golden. 

continue reading on ao3

[faereun]

THE FEYWILD. ( arc. i, pre - baldur's gate )

you're still a young'un when your mother becomes cold. she stays locked up in her temple for days at a time, drowning herself in worship and prayer. your father is oft away at war, but he still is more present than she. he visits you and your sister whenever he can, ruffling your spring - soft hair and kissing your forehead, bringing you all manner of toys and trinkets. you and your elder sister find solace in one another; she comforts you when your mother leaves her temple to find you playing house instead of studying scripture, her cold hands   a  cruel  sting   across the pink of your summer - warm cheeks. you take the blame for her when your mother finds tomes of worship for a goddess other than her own, that which she believes to be the only true god. heretic, she cries, when you can take the fall for your sister no longer. heretic and dissenter, she calls your most beloved friend, as her hand cracks down like thunder 'pon her trembling visage. she's your older sister, but in the wake of your mother's booming rage and unkind hands, she's never looked smaller. if the nightsinger is the path to your salvation, you wonder, why is it the moonmaiden's magic that salves the stinging wounds left by your mother's rings?

still, you are nothing if not a diligent child. you keep your head down, lest provoked otherwise  —  you find that you cannot keep quiet when your mother's fury is directed at your sister, your dearest efru; your protector and closest companion. you practice your archery, ready yourself to heed   the  nightsinger's  call   should it ever come. should your mother ever call upon you to   spill blood   in her lady's name. your sister and you grow distant, for a time, though not of your own volition. efru buries herself in her studies, surviving off of scraps of selunite scripture and tomes their mother thought had been lost to time, buried within the recesses of their estate's library. she only wishes for your safety  —  every time she sees you suffering at your mother's hand in place of her, another scar is carved into her soul. she cannot exist with you as her   living  voodoo  doll   any longer. especially not when her rebellion has grown tenfold; mother ripping up the floorboards of her quarters to find tome upon tome, scroll upon scroll of selunite worship. she confiscates most everything, but it's pointless, anyways. she's nearly memorized everything she's ever read, and that which she hasn't is copied down in her journals thrice over.

still. as hard as things are at home, things are … okay. your father comes home to visit more often these days, off fighting whatever stupid war your mother seems to be raging in the depths of the feywild  —  spilling blood merely for the sake of spilling blood, you're sure. his smile is warm and worn, the skin around his eyes crinkling up like crows' feet when he sees you and your sister. for an archfey, he looks so old. too old. it would seem that the feywild agrees, for one day, when he comes home  —  well, perhaps it is that he doesn't come home at all. not really. you're with your sister, head in her lap as she murmurs hymns to you under her breath, when you both hear the solemn thundering of marching boots and a moaning, melancholy tune :    a  funeral  march   . you scramble to your feet, racing through the halls and down to the dining hall, where you know you'll find what you fear most; you're sure of it, a sick, sinking feeling that eats away at your stomach. your father, laid bare before your mother, with only the barest breath of life still on his lips. she does not weep. tears are already gathering in the corners of your eyes, dropping to your knees as the truth sinks in. the air is acrid with the stench of blood , a trail of it already drying brown against the white of the marble floors. 

your father is going to die. and there is nothing you'll be able to do about it. except  —  efru pulls out her staff, the mutterings of an incantation humming to life with ancient, glowing magic. she's a naturally gifted cleric, always has been, and a sigh of relief catches in your throat when your mother hisses a counterspell under her breath, flinging efru's staff from her hands, where it clatters against stone; it is a hollow, thudding sound. you feel your heart crack like glass.   'please. mother, this is ridiculous, i can save him—'   she begs, but to no avail. your mother spits at her, gathering your father up in her arms.   'silence. your craven, tainted magic will not touch him. not so long as i live and breath, and am the sole lady of this house,'   she hisses, every word dripping with venom. like efru is nothing but a gnat to be swatted from her line of sight, a spider to be crushed underneath the heel of her boot. efru moves to reach for her staff, hands trembling with desperation, but a booming wave of thunder knocks her prone, the carved willow rolling well out of reach. you feel it in the marrow of your bones when his heart stops beating. a gut - wrenching cry tears through your chest, ripping out from your throat and past bleeding lips, ones you'd been gnawing at so fervently you hadn't even noticed when you'd broken skin. 

slowly, verdant green curls are awash with an aching azure storm, streaks of white tickling the nape of your neck where sage flesh has gone death - blue, the freckles adorning your cheeks like speckles of moss suddenly blindingly white, like specks of snow across the bridge of your nose. it feels as though your heart has frozen over, succumbed to the harshest feywild winter you've ever known. you don't think you'll ever smile again.

[chidoroki]

182 Days of TPN - Day 102

Chapter 102: “Found It”

I don’t remember much of the demon town scenes in the anime (because honestly, who would want to remember?), but I am kinda upset we didn’t see much of these demon kids, especially the smaller one with the fascination for leaves. It’s cute.

This is some very unfortunate foreshadowing. “Yet” might as well be very large and in bold print.

If it wasn’t for the artbook, I would’ve never realized that Dominic was actually wearing an animal pelt in this panel. He has every right to be proud of it! I am too and I love this child immensely!

The way the younger kids rush to carry out Ray’s very specific request with no questions asked.. GF kids are definitely something to be feared. I would’ve definitely needed him to repeat his instructions at least thrice. Not to mention that Ray knows exactly which books he needs and where they were located. Yeah his great memory helps out with that, but then you gotta remember that between the trip to and from GP and being out on the Cuvitdala search for several months, Ray really hasn’t been around the shelter for that long compared to everyone else, so the fact he’s already read through the entire shelter library is so damn impressive to me.

Darn accursed timeskips making us miss out on all the exploring. Little headcanon of mine is that the east side trip is when Emma loses one of her hairpins since she has all three while saying bye to Yuugo & everyone else.

As much as I enjoyed seeing Emma & Ray do all that parkour throughout the town in the anime, I would’ve much rather had this small reveal rather than the chase scene with those two larger demons whom I didn’t really care for. And we’re not even gonna mention how that whole fiasco ended. Nope.

Hey Don’s doing his best! & I love how often we’ve seen the GV kids impressed with those from GF up to this point and now GV is getting some well deserved praise as well. All the children are just amazing. Plain and simple.

Also nice to see the subtle change everyone went through over the past year and how happy and at ease everyone is. For now. (I think Paula has a scarf now too, or at least it looked like one in an earlier panel this chapter.)

And I am SO VERY PROUD of them all! My babies grow up so fast because of timeskips. But damn, that’s another thing I’m mad about.. season two not even giving Ray his scarf! It’s fine, he and Paula can be scarf buddies. Maybe that’s where he got it from. Who knows. We never will.

Favorite panel/moment:

Seeing how wild Emma’s hair can truly be. Even Ray’s has become a mess.

[booksandchainmail]

Pale 7.4

Ah, so it looks like Alexander has his own plans. And he says they've been ready for five years... I'm trying to think if there's anything on that time scale. Can't think of anything now.

Not wild about him referring to Nicolette in the past tense. That's one of the major complicating factors about this for me: if Alexander wins, what happens to those one the other side? I can see the ordinary students, especially the younger ones, being okay. But Nicolette was his apprentice, and she openly defected from him. I'm not sure how to keep her safe through this.

"Three tears from five years ago"... one from each traitorous apprentice? Hmmm. Went back to Nicolette's interlude, she was hurt at age 10, spent 2 years before meeting Alexander, is 16 now. I suppose five years ago could be when she joined him (and the other apprentices were already there).

... or I could read the next paragraph. Yuck on both sides.

"Those precious futures and realities that can be described as fixed by the Threads, by the Hours, by the Blade, by the Bough, and by the Pale."

Title drop! So the Pale is some kind of prophetic or fate-tied thing? Actually: do these correspond to awakening items? Threads is woven object, Hours is timepiece, Blade is knife, Bough is living thing, which makes Pale either the skull or the coin? I'm inclined to say skull, since those are pale. Morbid for a title.

I want to say it's creepy how Bristow's Sight apparently gives him a dossier on everyone he meets and how much they're worth, but that feels hypocritical given what Verona and Lucy's Sight shows them

And oh, I do not like Alexander and Clem interacting. I suppose there's a symmetry to it, if he suborns Bristow's tenants in exchange for his apprentices. But it looks like what the girls said to her is working at breaking Bristow's hold.

She really missed having what her parents had, where her dad would look after her mom after a bad day, running a bath and stuff, or her mom would do little things for dad. That, to her, was love.

... yeah <3. Also, I don't think this is the answer either of the other two would give. For Lucy, maybe about backing her up? Not sure for Verona. Doubt she knows herself.

Lucy and Verona did their own very specific things when they were tired and vulnerable.

and neither of those things are deescalation

they told me they wanted me to work with Bristow, as a prelude to my work with them. My recruitment was contingent on joining them.”

ah. So more extortion than a bribe. This sucks!

You would be agreeing to be part of a broader network. The kind of thing Alexander wanted to build, but this wouldn’t be held together by metaphorical shoestrings, gum, and implicit threats from an Augur who has studied your vulnerabilities. There would be certain duties expected every year, dues to be paid, but rewards in kind. Help, communication, networks, a sharing of books and libraries.

honestly sounds like a good idea. Issue is the guy running it. Both of the guys trying to run it.

“We’re thirteen,” Verona protested.  “This sounds worse than paying taxes.”

libertarian Verona

“One way to look at it would be to ask if a poor leader is worth enduring for a little while, if it means bringing civilization and society to ramshackle territories.”

... civilization is a bit of a loaded word to use here.

You can invite people in, you can ease the restriction or invite people in as part of your payment, if you can’t pay your thrice-a-year dues.

this feels like a trap. Make access to Kennet the collateral, then ensure they can't pay their dues

Verona threw another sock at Lucy, for no apparent reason.

lol

Nicolette trailed off. “Are you okay?” Avery asked.

Really like that Avery is approaching Nicolette as, if not necessarily a friend, not an enemy.

"That was more of a work relationship. But it was… we could talk the entire time we were working and it felt like we could keep going for hours longer, but we didn’t, so I always looked forward to the next joint project. We found excuses to do them. I think it was the same with her.”

awww.

"He’s wronged students, denying them their education and disrupting this natural order.  He wronged us, attacking our town for petty reasons, and this follows naturally from all of that.  He deserves it."

Thinking about how the other two described Lucy as having a strong sense of injustice

Either it complicated Bristow’s stay here, or it complicated their own.  They could leave, he couldn’t.

good situation to be in, setting up a conflict you can retreat from and the other person can't

Avery took some satisfaction in slamming the door in Shellie’s face.  The exterior of the door broke away, hit the floor, and dissolved into glowing lines.  Leaving just the side of the classroom.

fun that their safe haven is being in class, like an incredibly high stakes version of various school games that only take place during passing time

[wyrmfedgrave]

Pics: Lovecraftian Humor Unleashed!!

1915: HPL Output - Part 2.

Text:

Her sister ships,¹ by Prussian threats delayed,... eager, yet... impotent to aid.

Thrice cursed² Goth!³

(Your) prey already down, Yet (you'd) have... hundreds drown!

...Crime accomplished,... the foe retreats, And in... craven flight re- counts his deeds.

Vengeance!

From kindred nations comes the cry. Shall mortals... for no offences die?

Shall rabid wolves... prowl the wave(s), & strike at (what) no man can save.

Laws of the world!⁴

Have (you) no force to blast, The... hordes... set(ting) the world aghast?

Shall man beneath... Prussian mad- ness fall, And black barbarity⁵ engulf us all?

Awake!

(You lazy) hemispheres⁶ (&) strike! This serpent... defies us all alike!

The snake... spreads his... poisonous coils, Over... fair lands & all he sees despoils.

Have (you) in your childhood heard, The mystic utterance⁷ of the Holy Word.⁸

That... the serpent who... bruise(s) our heel, Must in... turn our stronger bruises feel?

The time is here, our heel... (has) felt his sting; Let... righteous wrath his downfall bring.

Let man united, crush the hissing head, (Which) the world (has) learned to hate & dread.

Choke the vile threat that (speaks - just) to lie, And in his (own) poison let the adder die.⁹

To arms!

(You) nations & acclaim the dawn, (In which) a second freedom shall be born.

Footnotes:

1. The Lusitania was part of the fleet of ships of the Cunard Line.

Her 'sister' ships (of the same time period) were the Mauretania, the Aquitania & Fatherland/Leviathan.

By the 1950s, they had been totally replaced...

2. Three times cursed is quite the intensifier!

For 3 is a unique number with special powers.

Speaking 3 times empowers curses & charms.

And, 3 times anything is a favorite theme in literature & superstitions.

It all seems to go back to the Bible.

Where, in Genesis, God curses the serpent (G-3:14), the Earth (G-3:17) & Cain (G-4:11)!

3. Goths ("old barbarians") was the Latin word for anyone who was not Roman or Greek.

But, the tribal name might describe the Polish Gutones in particular.

In the late 300s AD, the Goths came under attack from the East - by the Huns.

Two branches of the Germanic Goths migrated West, seeking refuge under the Roman Empire.

Rejected, the Visigoths ("good" or "worthy" people?) defeated the Roman army (& killed Emperor Valens) in 378 AD!

Still, it took until 410 AD, before the Visigoths were able to sack Rome itself!!

They kept moving West & South, into (France) & (Spain).

Finally, they settled in North Africa, where they became successful pirates!

4. It sounds as if Howard is calling out the League of Nations.

But, that diplomatic organization was not erected until 5 years later, in 1920.

5. Leave it to Lovecraft to slip in some bigoted language in a poem meant to arose Americans to get involved in WW1!!

6. Since there's only 2 hemispheres at a time, Howard - in using the plural - must have meant the "whole world"...

The word itself, describes "half" of "a perfectly round ball."

Hemispheres are mostly used in the study of geology & in (making maps).

7. It's hard to believe nowadays but, the Bible was once thought to be a grimoire (magic spell book).

Common people couldn't legally own a personal Bible!

Worse, Bibles were written out in Latin - which only priests could read!!

This started to be undone by the Gutenberg press, which could print out many volumes.

Originally, these Mazarin Bibles were printed only in Latin.

Its 1st copy found its way into the Paris library of Cardinal J. Mazarin.

Henry the 8th, a 'devout' Catholic had the 1st English Bibles printed in England.

But, Queen Mary, his daughter, forbade their use - causing many Protestants to leave the country!

It took scholarly linguist, W. Tyndale, to go into hiding to translate the New Testament into English.

But, Tyndale was betrayed & then, convicted of heresy!

In 1536, Tyndale was strangled to death & his body was burned at the stake!!

And, all for nothing!

Since, Henry the 8th soon allowed everyone to own a copy of the King James Bible - which is 83% of Tyn- dale's work...

8. Lovecraft read the whole Bible as a youngster.

But, I'm not sure if he ever heard the Holy Word as spoken aloud by an orator or evangelist...

9. How appropriate for our times...

End.

[blueflower-sprite]

NEW OC ! - Waynour Whitefairy

So, I have the regret to announce that I'm into arthurian legend. I also have the regret to announce that I fixed myself a precise objective for this OC on tumblr ''Hey, Blue ! You know what would be extremely autistic and maniac ? To make a monster OC based on the etymology of a NAME. '' This is midnight, I'm cursed, I want to sleep, but strangely, I want this madness to never end. So BEHOLD, my weird child who will probably or not, fit into Monster High.... Sorry for the grammatical errors, english is not my first language, but I'm doing my best.

Waynour Whitefairy

PARENT – The White Phantom. But maybe Gwenwhyfar or Findabair are more relevant to you...

AGE – 16.

PRONOUNS – She / Her.

ORIENTATION – I'm Lesbian. But some have the nerve to say this is only a ''façade''.

PHILOSOPHY – '' I would want to shine properly... To be a Disco Ball... Because they can't be stolen, they bring joy, and have so many reasons to be colorful.''

ORIGINS – Just search for the etymology of Guinevere or Gwenhwyfar... You will understand why there was three of us in the Welsh Triads.... Yes, I'm Welsh by the way, despite my name : but I was raised in the Boonited-States of Scareamerica by a close family friend.

KILLER STYLE – You know, I'm a diplomatic and social problem at his finest. So I attempt to keep a low profile by wearing white colours and basic clothes... With some silky fashion and jewellry... But I promise, only two by attire... When I'm not in the mood.

FREAKY FLAW – I'm a Fairy who can't do any magic, and a Phantom who can't disappear when she need it... I'm so fed up with myself.

FAVORITE COLOR – Diamond White.

FAVORITE FOOD – I love all rice-based recipes. Even if there are eyes in it, I will eat you're rice.

BIGGEST PET PEEVE – No. I'm not beautiful. This is only a very elabored magical (thrice biological) charm, and some adorable myths that keep you on the thought. Trust me, if I was so beautiful to you, you will be convicted for kidnapping.... And this will not be funny for any of us, believe me.

FAVORITE ACTIVITY – I like reading and having fun with Monster High's Book Club in the school's library ! I have so many adventures, stories, and legends within my family to share....

PET – I have a red cat named Cherry ! She's so cute and so unique, and I like to take naps with her.

FAVORITE SUBJECT – Physical Deseducation...If common sense don't suffice to protect yourself as a honest ghoul, learn how to train you're body to run the fastest you can without sliding on nothing like a horror movie's girlie. I just hope there is a wrestling or butt kicking option, also. Otherwise, I'm making a petition.

LEAST FAVORITE SUBJECT – Theater. I'm already the center of attention in all the worst possible ways : can I have some rest, please ?

FUTURE DREAM – My mother live in a strange realm. I hope that, in opposition to her sadness and solitude, I will find a ghoul that I can protect and love like nobody else has truly done for me before... when I will know how to properly defend myself and those I love, first.

REPUTATION AT MONSTER HIGH - Some say that I'm the ''alluring'' ghoul without solid reasons. I don't understand why all these ghouls are jealous, frankly, because I think they are beautiful in their own way.

BBF – My mother hired a young Cawr Bodyguard for me. His name is Bran Dyn Mawr, but I would be happy to be strongest, just to began a real friendship with him. He deserve it.

Goodnight to everyone who read this ! I wish to all of you dolls and dreams !

[theinvisibledoodlewizard]

I am on AO3!

It’s the story I’ve been doing snippets of for the past few days :3333

I’ll have chapter two up in a bit.

Also, for anyone not on AO3 (like me just a bit ago)

Also if anyone has tips on how to get italics/indents to work on AO3? I’d be eternally grateful

Edit: I FIGURED OUT ITALICS but not indents

Twice under the past, there was a village surrounded by the woods.

Ok not much of an opening, I know. But it’s the best I got.

Everything I read in the library as a kid started in the same tacky way, so I thought it’d be a good idea. Anyway, how do people usually write in one of these things?

“Dear Diary,” or something like that? Hmm… sounds too much like a person then. You’re a book. Y’know what? How about I’m the narrator, the main character, and you’re a book. Sound good? You’re already nailing it.

Let’s start again.

Thrice through the future,

…

The book isn't judging you and no one is going to read this, it's fine.

There was a village in the woods.

Not a very small village, but not a very big one. Farm land dotted the massive clearing of forlorn trees, broken by shops and places of learning, and even a small castle. The town provided all of its own resources. Reusing metal, keeping herds of animals extremely carefully, every stone found put to use right away. The town had to work hard, but its people were never starving or cold. It was prosperous in its own way. It had everything it needed, which was good since no one traveled in or out.

The forest was dark and foreboding, no one dared travel far within its reaching branches. Though it was said that once, many years ago, people would travel to other villages outside and in the forest, its twisted branches and forgotten paths were enough deterrent for the townsfolk of our story.

It was told in tales, that heroes of old had cleared the forest of all monsters in a great battle many years ago. No one knew what those monsters were anymore, the books and legends never specified.

Some people guessed bears, others guessed lions, some said trolls. This last category swore their great great great great great great great great uncle’s cousin had traveled to a town that had been having issues with them. The most ludicrous of all these claims were the people who said the old battle was named “The Battle of the Bugs.” In these renditions the ancestors had done battle with giant beetles, flies, maggots, and the like. A simple gnat being the size of a man’s head. Obviously these were the most mocked, also the most used to scare children into learning the deadly plagues or getting into bed.

Some people were brave enough to live under the shade of the reaching trees, the areas where the forest was trying to reclaim its lost territory. Not venturing far out, houses always built facing the village and away from the looming dread. Brave or foolhardy, the townsfolk could never make up their minds. Our protagonist is one of those people.

A sour mouthed, scrawny, beanpole of a man, not many people ventured out to visit Joshua Tailor. Living the farthest out from the village, and not following the usual tradition of having his house’s back turned to the dark, many wondered if the illusive man was a tree from the woods, come to live among them.

In reality, Joshua just didn’t like talking with the superstitious people he had been raised with, instead deciding to live alone among the sparse trees that could give him neighbors that only chirped among themselves and didn't bother him.

He had a small garden where he grew what food he could. Sending off for anything else he needed. In that list were things like cloth, needles, bobbins, and work orders. All these things were brought by three brave messengers, the only ones brave enough to traverse that far out.

The most annoying, and most persistent of these emissaries was Joseph Planter. He had come today to bring the new orders.

“So we have your food orders, about twenty five sharp things, fabric that I totally didn't drop on the way here, and three return orders from customers that I know I had to carry there and now back again. I’m blaming you for every prick, bump, and branch I got hit with, as I, again, totally didn’t chase the fabric through the underbrush and watch it roll away forever.”

“Hello Joseph,” said Joshua, stopping his work and standing up to inspect the damage on his goods and courier, “Are those all of your complaints?”

“Not even close!” replied Joe Planter flopping everything on a counter in one giant tangled pile, “Thank you for asking! Yesterday, Veronica told me tha-”

“Zip it” Josh curtly grunted, shooting a glare and a slight grin towards the sulking gossiper leaning on his counter next to the abhorrent pile, “You know I don't actually care.”

“I see you’re the usual antisocial sourpuss,” Joe pouted, watching Josh try to detangle the mess that had been brought.

“Antisocial is a bit of a strong word,” Tailor said absentmindedly, “I prefer introverted. But say what you will, lazy, good for nothing, s-”

“Woah woah woah!” proclaimed Joe, putting his hands up defensively, “I’m gonna stop you right there! We’ve been over this, just because I’m not running the family business, does not mean I am not working. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Here, and bothering me,” Joshua rolled his eyes, “What a joy. By the by, how is your sister doing, running the family farm?”

“Mary is fine, just fine,” now it was Joseph’s turn to be curt.

“A young pretty thing like that definitely doesn't need another hand on board,” Josh couldn’t help but dig.

“Listen, ma and pa don’t even want me near the land anymore,” Joe sighed, leaning back onto the counter, “And sis is scheduled to be married soon. I’m lucky to be invited. Let alone still in her life. I'm not going to strain what I have.”

Joshua looked at his colleague curiously. When Joseph really wanted to, he could be really protective of those he cared about. It always baffled Joshua why he was the one the lonely Planter lamented to, instead of some bar in town. But he had to admit, something about it fit Joe’s character. He wouldn’t say these things to just anyone. So why him?

“Alright, alright.” Josh conceded, “I apologize.”

A turn of Joe’s head, with a flash of an upturned lower lip, told Josh that what he’d said wasn’t enough. He had to sweeten the pot a bit.

“And I admit that being a courier is a real job,” he finished, slightly less genuinely.

“Thank you,” Joe sniffed over dramatically, ignoring the inauthenticity of Josh’s addition, “You know you’d miss me if I was stuck on a hot farm all day. And what then? You’d have to walk your own sorry butt to town to come see me.”

“I have two other couriers you know,” Joshua replied flatly.

“The insults keep coming!” Joe proclaimed, falling backward and feigning inconsolable injury to his pride and social standing.

“Any notes with these orders?” Tailor ignored the dramatics happening to his right with not even a sigh.

Joe straightened and brushed off his coat, done with his act, pride only mildly damaged.

“Nope. But can you maybe make me some new duds sometime soon? I’ll give ya half off the next five trips here and back.”

So salesman mode was going to be his revenge. Challenge accepted.

“Next ten trips here and back,” was Josh’s counter offer, not even looking up as he placed the new pins into a drawer.

“Five trips, here and back,” Joe emphasized, “is already ten trips! I can’t give out discounts for that many trips! Do you know how much food costs back in town?”

“Given how much you charge, plus your shipping fee?” Josh mused, scratching his chin for mock emphasis, “Yes, yes I do. And I'll remind you, you're asking for discounted goods as well? I use every scrap of material you bring me, and my other customers pay much more than half price for walking.”

Joe groaned as Josh proudly folded the new cloth.

“Fine!” the courier conceded, much like a child would “I’ll do half off seven trips here and back. But I genuinely can’t do more than that! Mary’s wedding is coming up, and I’d rather not have to starve in order to get her a nice gift.”

“Sounds fair enough” Joshua replied, utterly deadpan. “Next time you come, I’ll take the measurements.”

“Why not now?” Joe whined, annoyed he had been bested twice in one trip.

“Because I have other work to do that's more urgent, and you've annoyed me enough for one day.” Josh returned, turning around to look Joe in the eye for the first time, while crossing his arms in a firm “I’m done talking” gesture.

“It was nice catching up, Joe,” Tailor said with finality.

“Yeah yeah,” Joe said, rolling his eyes at this display, “I get the hint.”

Joshua walked his guest to the door, mostly to make sure Joe didn’t grab anything on the way out like he usually tried to. But as Joe was about to start the trek back to the village, Josh stopped him.

“When is Mary’s wedding exactly?” he asked nonchalantly.

“About a fortnight away,” Joe called over his shoulder, before turning back to the house in curiosity. “Why?”

Josh thought for a moment, then ventured, “Would you be able to make a trip back in five to eight days time?”

Joseph cocked his head as a dog would, looking at the imposing figure standing in the doorway thoughtfully. He smiled and nodded, almost to himself.

“I think I could,” the courier stated, before turning back to the road matter of factly.

Tailor sighed a bit before calling after him again.

“That trip doesn’t have to be one of the half off ones,” he shouted. Then walked back inside and closed the door.

[siiinfully]

The lake was beautiful, and she could see why he had chosen to keep this place a secret. Daenerys watched him, fascinated and intrigued by this side of him, but she made sure to stay hidden. While he had been nice yesterday, she didn’t know him well enough just yet. Maybe he would be furious at his sanctuary being invaded already, and so she stayed concealed within the shadows of the trees and leaves. It was clear that he was happy here. Despite the brief moment where he looked troubled – was he thinking of her and their impending marriage? – he looked completely at ease.

Something that he hadn’t been around her. It added to the guilt she felt after calling him old, and she sighed. Daenerys would have turned away then, but he had started making his way from the middle of the lake and towards the shallower end. The more of his body was revealed, the redder her cheeks became. He was naked and dripping water, and despite her better judgment, her gaze followed several drops of water than slid down his form and down to…oh my. Knowing that that thick, monstrous member would be inside her eventually almost made her squeak and clamp her thighs closed, but she didn’t leave.

Curiosity could kill a cat, and if that was the case, then she would have died thrice over now. She continued to observe him as he lay down on the towel, and again, he surprised her by starting to touch himself. Her breath hitched in her throat, and still, she continued to watch. Every fiber of her being was screaming at her to leave, to give him his privacy, and when she saw drops of pre-cum start to fall from the tip, she finally did. She took a few steps back, as careful and as silent as she could, before she turned and fled back to the house. This time, she didn’t bother being quiet, and he might have caught a glimpse of her as she ran back down to the path and towards the side door.

Jory was waiting for her by the door, and the pup yipped happily before throwing itself in her arms. She hugged him tight and continued down the hallway, so by the time she was in the parlor, she was sweating a little and panting. She hoped that she hadn’t been seen or that he wouldn’t be mad if he had. She hugged the puppy a little tighter before putting it back down on the floor so that she could continue exploring the rest of the house. From the parlor, she found her way to the study and then the library, both of which were probably where her fiancé spent most of his time. There were several stacks of files on the desks and tables, and she left those alone, choosing to look through the books that were on display. Some of them were, strangely, hardbound romance novels, which she assumed used to belong to Lynesse.

Again, her curiosity got the better of her, and she pulled one out, finding that the original and very smutty cover was hidden beneath the hardbound cover. A few pages in was a very graphic smut scene, involving the main character and a rogue she met at the local diner. Daenerys read about how his fingers worked the woman to completion before she pulled him down ontop of her into a steamy kiss. Again, the memory of Jorah jerking himself off flashed in her mind, and she slammed the book shut and returned it to the shelf. After a few seconds, she pulled it out somewhat so that she could find it easily again and continued going through the shelves.

Time passed quickly, especially after she curled up on one of the armchairs in the back with a less smutty novel. It was Missy who got her and Jory, so she could get dressed for dinner. This time, Daenerys decided to join him for dinner, believing that she should get used to eating with him as early as possible. And maybe she could figure out if she had been caught earlier. She didn’t have a lot of dresses with her, but she chose her favorite, a sea blue dress with brooches on the shoulders, and she left her hair falling loose and past her shoulders.

“Good evening,” she said softly by the doorway, glancing at the other chairs as if she expected them to have surprise guests. “May I eat with you?” Seeing Jorah again, this time clothed and dried, was good. It didn’t make her think of them in that dark alleyway from the smutty novel, his fingers up her cunny and his lips on hers, moaning her name whenever he had to take a breath. That is, until she remembered the book, and she blushed a bit before she sat down. Missy was by her side to serve her the food she was interested in, and the puppies followed afterward.

Drogon nosed his way to the spot by her feet, and she giggled as she rolled her feet over the furry belly, careful not to press down too hard. Rhaegal was quieter, just like her older brother, while Jory sniffed around before plopping next to her. Daenerys was used to not talking during dinner, so she didn’t know what to say to him. But she felt that she had to, if only to fill in the silence. “…your house is very nice,” was her first attempt. “I haven’t seen all of it yet, just the parlor and the study and the library. I started reading one of the novels this afternoon. Something about a pirate captain and a lady he met.” Nothing too scandalous, but there were romantic overtures there; she’d stopped just short of the two of them kissing on the deck of the pirate ship.

Jorah stood motionless in the heart of the lake, his feet anchored in the soft, silty bed beneath him as the water swirled gently around his waist. The warmth of the afternoon sun bathed his skin, a golden glow settling across the landscape, seeping into his tired muscles and loosening the knots that had long remained tight from days spent in meetings and negotiations. His breath slowed, matching the rhythm of the lake’s gentle ripples, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, he allowed himself to relax. In this small, hidden corner of the world, there were no expectations or burdens pressing down on his shoulders. Here, in the stillness of the water and the quiet of the surrounding woods, the weight of responsibility momentarily slipped away.

The lake had always been a sanctuary for him, a place far enough removed from the estate that it felt like a world unto itself. Towering trees surrounded the water, their branches hanging low, some even dipping into the lake, as though the forest was cradling the water in a protective embrace. The canopy above filtered the sunlight, casting dappled patterns across the lake’s surface that shimmered and danced with each movement of the water. It was a private Eden, one that few knew existed, and here, away from the demands of his title and his upcoming marriage, Jorah felt an odd sense of peace—a peace that had eluded him for years.

He waded deeper into the lake, the cool water rising over his chest, embracing him like a balm to the relentless heat of the day. His muscles, tight and strained from the countless hours spent bent over papers and charts, began to unwind, releasing the tension he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding. The lake’s coolness seemed to reach into his very bones, soothing the aches that had come with age and the weight of his life’s responsibilities. Here, he could forget the world. Forget the negotiations with Daenerys’s father, the uneasy arrangement that bound them both to a future neither of them had truly chosen.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Jorah submerged himself beneath the surface of the water, letting the coolness envelop him entirely. Beneath the surface, the world above vanished, replaced by the muffled, peaceful hum of the lake. Time seemed too slow, almost stopping, as if he were suspended in a different realm altogether, untouched by the passage of days and the looming expectations of tomorrow. In this brief, submerged moment, Jorah was weightless, unburdened by the future or the past. There was no impending marriage, no estate to manage—just the quiet, soothing embrace of the water.

When he surfaced again, the sunlight kissed his face, droplets of water clinging to his beard and hair as they glistened in the golden afternoon glow. He tilted his head back, eyes closed, and let the sun warm his skin, the water cooling him in contrast. For a while, he simply floated, allowing himself to be carried by the gentle current, the lake cradling him as it had so many times before. His mind wandered, but not to Daenerys or the arrangement that had been made for their marriage. Instead, he thought of simpler times—of the man he had been before all this, before duty had carved its way into his life and left him hardened and weary.

His thoughts drifted to Lyneese, the woman who had once captivated him, who had filled his life with a passion and chaos he hadn’t known he could feel. The memory of her stirred something in him, a reminder of a younger, more reckless Jorah—one who had believed in love without consequences. But those memories, while potent, were fleeting. The love they had shared had been wild, yes, but it had also been destructive, and when it ended, it left only ruin in its wake. He had rebuilt from those ashes, but the man who emerged was different—more careful, more guarded, and less willing to believe in the kind of love that had once consumed him.

Shaking his head, Jorah banished the memories, letting them drift away like the leaves on the surface of the lake. He wasn’t that man anymore. He hadn’t been for a long time. Now, as he stood waist-deep in the water, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face and the coolness of the lake on his skin, he realised that none of that mattered. Not the past, not the future, and certainly not the burdens that waited for him back at the estate. Here, he could simply be—no titles, no expectations, just a man standing in a lake, savouring a fleeting moment of peace before the world inevitably called him back.

He walked to the grass, laying on a towel he had laid out before he had come into the lake and wiped down his body with another. Alone he knew he woukd be unterupted, habits of coming to the lakeside on warm days and laying out to touch himself to completion. Jorah's hand trailed down his chest, fingers tracing the contours of his muscles. The warm sun caressed his skin as he closed his eyes, letting out a contented sigh. His palm glided lower, over the firm plane of his stomach.

Arousal built slowly as he allowed his mind to wander. He imagined soft hands on his body, lips brushing his neck. His breathing quickened as he wrapped his fingers around his hardening length.Slow, languid strokes sent waves of pleasure through him. Jorah arched into his touch, hips lifting slightly off the towel. He pictured a beautiful woman astride him, her lithe body undulating as she took her pleasure. Jorah’s movements grew more urgent, hand pumping faster as tension coiled in his core. Sweat beaded on his brow

[cxnscience]

continued from ( x ) with @shxkespexre

Of course he is. It's rare he receives gifts, especially something that personal and hand-crafted to boot. Not to mention it's something he wears so often.

"But you really don't gotta do any of that, Will, that's my point. You've got plenty, I'm sure, but if you wanna give it away it oughta be to the folks you're closer to, or - I mean, plenty of 'em probably need this sorta thing more than I ever could." And then there's the fact that he just doesn't like intruding on anybody's space when it's an acquaintance like that. "'Sides. Writing ain't easy, and your writing in particular is somethin' special. That's hard work - you deserve to keep whatever you get from it, y'know!"

Still, if he absolutely can't change his mind on the matter - though Jiminy is sure he can, given enough time; he's very persuasive, or at least annoying - at the very least he can try to pay for it. The tap to his back is unexpected enough for him to stumble just slightly, and when he straightens up to look back over his shoulder Will is already fishing for something in his pockets. He continues regardless, talking mostly to himself.

"I don't mind how much work it is. I could always use more reading, anyhow... Mister Geppetto don't got many books," and he's read the village library (small as it is) top to bottom thrice over. "You could pile a whole stack'a novels on my lap and I'd still read 'em for ya." He could continue waxing poetic about how it's a right honor to get to read anybody's work before it's quite ready to be seen by the public, that he's fascinated how watching how stories grow and change, but he's cut off when the bard drops him and then finds himself a little lost for words, holding perfectly stock-still awkwardly.

"—O-oh. Uh... sure, that's fine. Okay." He almost says 'take your time' but then he stops himself. The Lady is probably not chilling with this. "Humans only got two hands, and all..!"