#the moment that Xan decided oh no this is my child now

[ashmcgivern]

That moment when you realize you've adopted a new son

In the days and weeks following an incident in which a group of celestials put a stop to a catastrophic ritual that could have threatened the Prime Material, Xanthanel was tasked with figuring out the details of what had occurred there. They had been slowly and gently interrogating Zerrias, one of the only survivors of the incident, a tiefling boy who they had rescued the day of after mistaking his aura for that of a true celestial. His family had played key roles in the ritual, before they were slain by Xanthanel themself. The act of performing the rituals themselves traumatized Zerrias, who eventually refused to participate in them. Feeling guilt for being the one who separated Zerrias from his family, Xan took it upon themself to work with the kid to not only pull what information they needed, but make sure he was settled in a safe space before he'd depart permanently.

Xan learned that Zerrias was a bright kid, liked to read, and had a good sense for right and wrong, but was shy and didn't talk much. Pulling information out of him without upsetting him took patience and care, but Xan had the time. He was guarded, and slow to trust, but once Xan proved that they were not a danger the kid was more willing to give up pieces of information in and amongst other conversation and activities. Over a period of time, Zerrias' personality began to shine through, and Xan found himself more and more invested with each trip they made.

Needless to say, there was no permanent departure.

[longjohnsilverfish]

Karlach and Astarion decide to have a second? Because honestly the idea of him getting her pregnant is hot

I gotchuuuuu!!! Thankyou, anon!

Again and Again

NSFW 18+

CW: breeding kink

“I want another one.”

Astarion straddled Karlach, stroking her hair back behind her pointed ears and curled horn. His heart raced when speaking, but it was a wish worth speaking.

The pale Vampiric Elf had been living with his wife and son in Baldur’s Gate for a year now. And since they had moved in, Ivaebhin-Astarion had been flourish.

He would go on playdates with his cousin Xan, swim in the nearby pond with his mother while Astarion watched, be his father’s loving assistant as Astarion began to get back into his magistrate career.

His live was happy. Perfect.

Until he saw another baby being held in Karlach’s arms.

Wyll had adopted a baby found in the temple in Baldur’s Gate. He had named her Lily Aurora Ravenguard. The third cutest little thing Astarion had seen. Her pudgy fingers tightened into fists and tearless cries echoed in the air.

Wyll looked like he aged thirty years—and most grateful Karlach put her to a soft nap in her large arms.

But the look of the baby into her arms. The idea of her being a mother again, holding another baby in her arms—his baby.

Her breasts large and sore, begging to be touched and massaged.

Her clit engorged and wanting to be rubbed and milked of her fluids.

Her belly, round and large, ready to pop and give birth to another little half Tiefling, half Elf child.

The combinations of their features. Dozens. Millions.

“I want to make a baby with you,”, the Elf purred, kissing Karlach’s lips softly. “You make the best..”

“Astarion, we should talk before…”

“I know, I know. But…ngh.” Astarion grunted into the Tiefling’s hair, his hips rutting into Karlach’s.

The feeling of her hands running up his ass was all the more erotic.

“Please? Pretty please?”, he growled in a plea, whiny and desperate.

“Oh. Gods—fuck me.” Karlach breathed deeply, kissing up to the Vampire’s lips. “We-we can but them both in the same room, I suppose.”

“Yes. Yes.”

Rip. Rip. Rip. Rip.

Off with the clothes.

“Oh, you devious little thing…,” Astarion snickered. With his left hand, he held the woman’s cunt open, letting her juices trickle out like a spring. With his right, he played with his cock, tapping it against her clit. “You’re already soaked…”

“Just fuck me already,” she grunted, grinding her hips.

“Oh! So demanding. Who am I to…”

The Elf thrusted in, his face between her boobs.

Ah, the height difference. This is was happens when an 8’2 monster and a 5’11 bean get together.

But after years of love-making, they made it work.

Astarion smirked, biting into a breasts before moving his hips, the slapping beginning to pick up. Karlach cried out in pleasure, her hand planting itself in the Elf’s white curls to keep him suckling her blood.

Heatwave after heatwave, gulp after gulp. It was like spicy wine into his mouth, although much more sweeter from her breasts. Was it the milk’s doing? He wasn’t tasting the blood, perhaps the milk gave it flavor?

“Mm. Mm.” Karlach huffed, grinding her hips up. “Faster. I’m starting to daydream about cribs and baby clothes.”

Astarion smiled, and began picking up the pace. Gushing at his cock being taken in even deeper, he purred with pleasure, the hot warmth of her walls suckling him dry, milking his cock for all it was worth.

“Oh yeah? Like that idea?” The feeling of his cock kissing deep with his wife, seeing her keen at each deep kiss within her womb. “Wanna be bed ridden, have me wait on you hand and foot?”

“M-mhm!”

“Want that belly full again? Full of me? My Vampiric seed?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

Astarion laughed, hitting deeply in a certain stroke. “Yeah?”

“Yes!,” cried Karlach, now tears coming down her face.

Astarion stopped his thrusting for a moment, getting Karlach’s legs over his shoulders. And just like that, he began thrusting fast in no time. “Will you be a good mommy?”

“I promise!”

“You promise?.” His ruby eyes stared deep into her fiery irises.

“Yeah! Yeah! Please! Please!”

“Then—!”

Astarion began to slam as quick as he could, the sound of his balls slapping against her ass.

“Here you go!”

And in a moment, the two being came together. Karlach’s walls clamped around Astarion’s manhood, gushing in a clear fluid of love and lust. The Elf’s seed shot load upon load inside the Tiefling, his hot cum melting the woman from the inside out—deep within her womb, nestling inside to keep warm and eventually, become another perfect little baby for them both.

Astarion breathed heavily, looking down at the Karlach, who was just as sweaty as him.

“Girl or boy?,” he asked.

“If a girl…”

“We will name her Karlach.”

“No!”, Karlach protested, her tail hitting Astarion at the back of the head. “Something nice.”

“You are the nicest, most kindest woman I know,” Astarion remarked smartly. “If it’s a girl, her name will be…hm. Nothing other than Karlach would fit.”

“Oh! I know!” Karlach smiled. “Braerindra!”

“Braerindra? Hm, Brae-rin-drah Karlach. Hm, not bad. Braerindra-Karlach it is.”

“And a boy?”

“…hm. Haalaari-Constantine.”

Karlach whistled at the name. “Now that is a good name.”

“I try,” he smiled, kissing her nose. “But no matter what, they will be loved. Boy or girl.”

“Yes. Boy or girl.”

It was nine months later, and surprise surprise surprise, Karlach ended up having twins. Oh, that day will live in infamy. The yelling, the crying, the smiles.

The family of five. Perfect.

[bridgyrose]

Sapphire watched as her team “mingled” around the dance floor, well most of her team. Aro had decided to stay in the dorm while Xanthic stayed at a table and messed with her scroll. She let out a sigh, rolling her eyes as she muttered to herself. “Why does Xan trust technology more than people?” 

Her eyes wandered a bit more through the dance floor, watching Cinder and Sitri awkwardly dance together. It was somewhat amusing to see the girl she wanted as a maiden dancing with a member of her team, but as amusing as it was, the last thing she wanted was for Cinder to be distracted with her part of everything. 

Sapphire looked around the dance once more, this time her eyes pausing on her goal: Ruby Rose standing at the punch table. She gave her a soft smile. “You know, it’ll probably be more fun if you actually dance with someone.” 

Ruby nearly jumped, not having noticed Sapphire walking up to her. “O-oh, hey Sapphire. I figured you’d be with the rest of your team.” 

“They’re… preoccupied.” Sapphire motioned out to the other two members of her team that she came with. “Besides, you look like you could use a bit more company yourself.” 

Ruby chuckled a bit as she took a sip from her glass. “I guess you could say that. Yang and Blake are together with Sun and Neptune and Weiss-” she paused for a moment as she watched Weiss mess with a few napkins at an empty table. “-was supposed to be with Neptune…” 

Sapphire shrugged a bit, her eyes sticking on Sitri and Cinder. “Still, you could be having fun out there.” 

“In these lady stilts?” Ruby sat down in a chair near the punch table, letting out a sigh of relief as she took her heels off. “I’m going to need to have a talk with Weiss on how she can fight in these. They’re torture.” 

Sapphire let out a small chuckle, sitting down next to Ruby. “So, why are you here anyway?” 

“Mostly for Weiss and Yang. They worked hard putting everything together, although I dont get the point of being social. We’re at a school learning to be huntresses and hunters! To help others and learn to fight bad guys!” 

“Let me tell you, learning social graces helps so you dont act like those two over there.” Sapphire pointed over to Sitri and Cinder, both of who didnt seem to want to be there. She could faintly hear Sitri trying, and failing, to make small talk with Cinder while Cinder brushed off every question with a single word answer, keeping the nearest clock in the corner of her eyes to keep track of the time. 

Ruby winced a bit when she finally noticed Sitri and Cinder together. “Okay, you have a point.” 

Sapphire sat in silence with Ruby for a bit, watching the other students. She couldnt fault them for being carefree, not knowing what was going to be in store for them in the following weeks. But part of her felt disappointed that they all seemed… happy. That for once, none of them felt like anything could go wrong. 

Ruby finally broke the silence after taking a loud sip from her cup. “So… what a year, right? Between looking for Blake, what happened at the docks, Torchwick causing problems… if this is what being a huntress is like, I cant wait.” 

Salem rolled her eyes a bit. “Why? So you can spend the rest of your life in debt to a kingdom?” 

“Well, being a huntress is my dream. Fighting grimm, taking out crime syndicates… that’s what I’ll be doing. Making the world a better place one mission at a time.” Ruby let out a small sigh, looking down into the cup she had for herself. “Although, part of me is still nervous about all of it. Even though I’ll be one of the youngest huntresses to graduate from Beacon, it still feels a long way off. And even then, I still have to pass all of these classes. But, as long as I can follow my mother’s footsteps, I think I’ll be okay.” 

Sapphire frowned a bit after hearing those words. For a moment, she swore she could see Summer once more: the same senseless dream, the same naivety, the same hope that was about to be shattered… just another silver eyed warrior that would be used by Ozma as a pawn in this game they played. A game he could never hope to win. “You really think it’ll be like that?” 

“I mean, how else will it be? I mean, we’re here learning how to fight monsters and deal with criminals to protect others.” 

“What if I told you there are worse things out there than grimm? People with powers beyond what you could comprehend. Humans and faunus that make nightmares seem tame.” Sapphire placed a hand on the table behind her, letting out a bit of magic towards the lights of the room. A wicked grin came across her face as the room was bathed in a purple haze. She glanced over to Sitri and Cinder, allowing them a bit of a reprieve from their situation. “What you’re learning to do here is child’s play. You will never be prepared for what’s to come.” She slowly took her hand off the table, letting out a sigh. 

Ruby watched as the lights went back to normal. “Huh, that was weird.” She could hear a few of the students nearby chatting amongst themselves about it, mostly complimenting Yang and Weiss about pulling all the stops for the dance. Ruby let out a small sigh, setting her cup down. “I know I’ll never fully be prepared. And honestly, that’s where a bit of the excitement is for me. Who knows what we’ll… see…” Ruby’s words trailed off as she watched a figure jump from rooftop to rooftop outside the window of the dance. “I need to take care of something.” 

Sapphire shook her head as she watched Ruby rush off, not bothering to put her heels back on. “Of course you do… always getting in the way…” 

Sitri finally made her way over, grabbing a cup for herself and walking over to Sapphire. “So this is where you’ve been hiding. Figured you’d be out there dancing with people.” 

Sapphire shrugged. “Was keeping Ruby company until she ran off. Speaking of, arent you supposed to be with Cinder right now?” 

“She disappeared on me when the lights dimmed. Which is fine, I am absolutely okay with never being with her again. She was so… awkward to talk to. But hey, at least the next to the punch table is free. To the socially awkward, right?” Sitri moved her cup over to Sapphire with a small smile. 

Sapphire got up and started walking towards the door, ready to leave. “On second thought, I’m going back to the dorm to do a little bit of research.” 

Sitri slumped a bit and took a sip from her cup. “Right.... Leave me hanging…” 

[ververa]

‘Dare’

This is the continuation of ‘Sucker for her’. It’s not exactly what I’ve planned, but I hope you like it 

Xandra x fem!reader

A glass of water – that's what you needed in the middle of the night. You couldn't sleep and hoped that the drink may help you. You went downstairs, though you didn't manage to make it to the kitchen, as you heard muffled moans. You rolled your eyes. Since your father wasn't home you're sure it was your sister and her boyfriend, who decided to make use of the fact that the house was almost empty. However as you moved on you could hear voices – and that definitely wasn't a male voice. What the actual fuck? You're just tired. You can't hear properly. You told yourself. You tried not to pay attention and just grabbed some water. But on the way back you couldn't help and came closer to the room. The door wasn't closed, and you wished they had remembered to lock them. It was indeed your sister, but not with her boyfriend. She was there with Xandra...

Your mind stopped working for a few seconds. You couldn't process what you had seen. You almost dropped the glass you're holding, but you composed yourself just in time to prevent revealing your presence. You came back to your room and sat on the bed. What you had seen broke your heart into pieces, but you couldn't cry. The tears didn't want to flow, so you ended up just sitting and blankly staring at the wall.

You found it stupid to feel like that. You’re well aware that Xandra could never look at you the way you wanted her to. Though, apparently, it was different with your sister. It was always like that. Everyone preferred your sister, because it was just easier to get to her. She was more outgoing and probably more likeable. You got used to it and tried not to care, but after finding out she had an affair with your crush… That was too much. You couldn’t help, but started to hate her. You didn’t know how to deal with all pent-up emotions, so you began to avoid them both. You tried hard to remain invisible and that seemed to work.

Since you didn’t have much of a social life, you were spending most of your time on learning. At the end you’re thankful for that, because you sailed through all your exams and were ready for holidays. As every year you’re going to your uncle’s mansion – far away from the city. You used to go there with your parents, but that time you and your sister were supposed to go there alone. For the first time you were happy to go there. It seemed to be a perfect way to try and forget all that had happened. Or rather it would be if it hadn’t been for unexpected change of plan and your father deciding that Xandra should go there too and keep and eye on you.

How could you forget all that you had seen; how could you forget about her, when she was once again so close to you.

“This is a bottle of wine from my vineyard” your uncle stated while pouring the beverage into glasses “So, Xan… Can I call you that?” she was about to answer, but he kept on speaking “How did you and my brother meet?” he asked handing her a glass of wine “He had always been the lucky one. Great job, wife, children… and now such a cookie like you”

Xandra looked at him with a pity. He had always been a flirt, but at that moment you found it disgusting. It made you feel uncomfortable.

“No offence, but Xandra is out of your league” you said before you could stop yourself

Everyone looked at you surprised.

“Nobody can compete with dad” you added quickly

Xandra took a sip of the wine looking at you.

“Where’s Y/N’s glass?” she asked

“She’s too young to drink” you uncle said

“Is she? She’s not underage. She’s allowed to drink”

“My brother would kill me if I’d let his precious daughter drink”

“Well, it seems that you’re gonna be too little forever” your sister joked

“Yeah…” you lowered your gaze

Your uncle and sister moved to go outside, but you didn’t feel like spending time with them any more. You lowered your gaze waiting for Xandra to join them, so that you could go to your room. But instead of going to them the woman stopped in front of you. She bent over in her slinky dress and you needed to fight yourself not to look at her breasts. Xandra gave you that wicked smile and placed a glass of wine on the table in front of you.

“It’s not too bad to to be the little one sometimes” she winked and left

Xandra seemed to be in a good, actually great, mood. It was probably because of your sister – you thought to yourself. Seeing her happy, with that beautiful smile on her face was making you warm from inside. You hated it. You didn't want to feel like that. The fact that you knew about Xandra and your sister was only making things worse. You couldn't spend time with them like you used to, because you noticed every little gesture. Every knowing look that they exchanged. And that hurt. You wished you could be oblivious. Live a reasonably normal life and survive until your graduation. You thought it couldn't get any worse, but it turned out differently.

After 3 days your sister invited her new boyfriend and a group of friends to join you at your uncle's place. You hated the idea of spending time with them all and Xandra didn't seem to be happy either. Since their arrival she was mostly frustrated, even angry. And it was getting worse, as when it came to showing any kind of affection your sister didn’t really care if she and her boyfriend were alone or not.

That evening, as you all had a couple of drinks, it was even more intense and Xandra barely managed to stay calm. Your sister's friends suggested that spinning the bottle can be a great fun. You didn't really want to play, but since even Xandra agreed you decided to give it a try. It wasn't that bad. Actually it was quite funny, until the bottle stopped on you.

"Truth or dare?" your sister asked

"Dare..." you said

"Well then... I dare you to kiss the next person on who the bottle stops"

"I... "

"You chose 'dare'. You can't change it now"

"That's ridiculous"

"No"

"Yes"

"That's how the game works"

"It doesn't change the fact that it's ridiculous and stupid..."

"Spin the fucking bottle!" Xandra cut you off taking another sip of her drink

And you did. As the bottle was spinning you're giving yourself a pep talk. It's only a kiss. You'll just kiss one of the guys. That's not a big deal... But the bottle didn't stop on any of your sister's friends. It stopped on Xandra.

Suddenly you felt dizzy. All the alcohol you had hit you at one moment. Your vision became hazy and you felt too hot. Xandra looked at you. She seemed to be unaffected and you wished you could be too. Why the hell it has to be her?

"Come on" they encouraged

You looked at them then again at Xandra. She pulled her hair to the one side

"Do it!" your sister said impatiently

You took a deep breath and moved towards the woman. As you knelt down before her your eyes met. You weren't sure if that was only your hazy mind or if her pupils for real dilated, but it made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

"Go on" she whispered only for you to hear You closed your eyes and slowly leaned in to capture her perfect lips with yours.

You pecked her lips and were ready to move away, but unexpectedly she pulled you closer by your shirt and deepened the kiss. It wasn't you who was kissing any more. It was her. She took the control over and with every passing second you're melting more and more in the pleasurable feeling. You didn't know how long kiss lasted. You got lost in her touch and the only thing you could hear was the guys whistling and cheering. Until your sister cut them all off and interrupted your kiss saying

"Enough is enough, don't you think Y/N?"

You immediately pulled away and would stumble into the coffee table, which was behind you, if it hadn't been for Xandra who held you up by your waist. Your eyes met again and you could swear she was smirking.

"You can sit back on your seat" your sister said

"I..." you stood up nervously "I need some fresh air" you said and before anyone manage to say something you left

You came back to your room and sat on the bed thinking of what had just happened. You touched your lips and closed your eyes remembering the sensation of Xandra's mouth on yours. You didn't expect anyone to come and check on you, but she did. She knocked and not waiting for your response she entered. You turned back and saw Xandra with a sly smile on her face.

"You okay?" she asked

"Y-yeah" you said

Xandra moved and sat down next to you

"You don't have to do that" you said

"Do what?"

"Checking on me or babying me. I'm not a child"

"I'm not doing it. And you definitely aren't a child"

You looked at her confused.

"You still own me a dare, you know" she continued

"Whooa... What?"

"You left..."

"Because you kissed me"

"No. You kissed me"

"Well, yeah... But then you kissed me. Why did you do that?"

"I just took what's mine"

"What?! I'm not yours! You don't own me. I'm not my sister"

"Oooh wow. I didn't know you're a jealous type"

"I don't even like you"

"You don't?" she asked visibly amused

"No"

"No?" she arched her eyebrow playfully

"No!" you shook your head

"I think you do. Why would you wear all those short dresses or that damn shorts if you wouldn't?" she moved closer to you

Once again she was so close that you could feel her hot breathing on your face. You couldn't help, but look at her lips.

"You want it, don't you?" she smirked

You wanted to say no, you should have said no, but your body was already moving towards her. Before you knew Xandra was kissing you again. You moaned into her mouth at the feeling of her tongue dominating yours.

"You taste like vodka" she stated against your lips as she pulled away

"Sorry" you said not sure what to do

"You're so sweet. My god. It seems that I’ve chosen the wrong sister" she leaned in and kissed you again "Let Mommy make it up to you" Xandra smirked

The woman stood up and locked the door.

"Now, nobody will interrupt us" she looked at you fondly "Take off your clothes" she ordered

You looked at her

"I... We..."

"Oh, honey, don't be nervous" she gave you a quick reassuring kiss "Come on" she helped you to get rid of your shirt "I'll show you things you've never done" she kissed you again "I'll make you feel like never before" she smiled pushing you on to the bed

You let her took off your jeans and panties, but as she did so, you started to shy away. Your legs closed instinctively, but Xandra only smiled sweetly. She began kissing down your neck. As you're melting into her kisses your thighs fell open.

"There you go" she said soothingly "See how your body responds, already knowing who it belongs to baby girl"

Let me know what you think and if you’d like to be tagged in future works

[isitgintimeyet]

The Ties That Bind

AO3

Previous

Well, thanks for reading and thanks for all the comments and feedback after the last chapter! Jamie and Claire need some time out and a couple of friendly shoulders to lean on.

Thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge for the beta.

Chapter 17: A Therapeutic Counselling

Sometimes, just saying that you hate something, and having someone agree with you, can make you feel better about a terrible situation. - Lemony Snicket, The Bad Beginning

Jamie: How are you doing today?

Sassenach: OK. Lot of thinking

Sassenach: How are you?

Jamie: Worried. When can I see you?

Sassenach: Not yet. Will let you know

Jamie: I love you x

Sassenach: ...

Sassenach: …

Sassenach: I know

Sassenach: ...

Sassenach: Love you too

******

The day at work dragged by. Jamie felt detached and sluggish, fuelled only by industrial-strength espresso. He really thought they had worked it through last night. After the initial anger followed by hurt and sadness, Jamie had believed there was an acceptance of the situation. He had let Claire take the lead in their lovemaking, realising her fierce need to possess his body and brand him, mark him as hers. But Claire's wound was still raw, with no time to scab over, and his unintentional teasing with the condom had been enough to open it wide again. He considered himself to have a degree of emotional intelligence, but it had totally failed him last night. And the result was being told to leave Claire’s bed and return home, in a taxi, his arousal having quickly dissipated when he realised his own insensitivity.

The day had been incredibly unproductive too, constantly checking his phone for signs that Claire was willing to meet him. Apart from the terse responses to his texts, there had been no further communication.

The screen of his phone lit up, announcing the arrival of a message. Greedily, he picked it up, disappointed when John’s name appeared.

John: Gym in 20?

Jamie: yh. See you in there

******

John was already pounding away on the treadmill when Jamie arrived. He quickly adjusted the settings, plugged his headphones in and set off. His legs and hand still ached from the strenuous activity yesterday, so he kept it easy, not even trying to match or outdo John’s pace as he usually did.

John glanced over to his friend, his face questioning Jamie’s unaccustomed slow speed. Jamie shrugged and carried on.

The process was repeated on the rowing machines and cross trainers. By the time they reached the hand bikes, Jamie had had enough. He pulled out his headphones and tapped John’s arm.

“That’s it fer me. I’m headin’ fer the shower.”

“Are you ok? You don’t seem your usual, er, bullish self.”

“Aye, well, things on ma mind.”

Wrapping a towel round himself, Jamie left his shower cubicle and headed to his locker as John walked into the changing room. John stared momentarily at Jamie’s stomach, before hastily shifting his gaze upwards.

“Er, good night then, was it?” He nodded his head in the general direction of Jamie’s lower body.

Jamie glanced in the mirror. The evidence of Claire’s ministrations the previous night was clearly visible, livid red circles across his abdomen with faint pink tracks down his chest.

“No’ sae good as ye’re thinking. Have ye time fer a drink? I could do wi’ one.”

******

John brought the drinks over to their usual table. Unusually, John had chosen neat whisky. It seemed more appropriate to him, joining Jamie in a dram or two while listening to, he was sure, Jamie’s current relationship problems.

Jamie took a sip of his drink, then another. John waited in silence.

“I dinna ken where tae start.” Jamie began, tapping his glass with his fingers.

John shrugged.

“We’ve known each other, what, ten, eleven years? And in all that time, have ye ever known me to fall for a woman? I mean, really fall, hard?”

John shook his head. “No, plenty of girlfriends, plenty of relationships, but none that I thought ‘this is it, this is Jamie settling down.’ Not until now.”

“Aye, ye’re no wrong. No’ wishin’ tae sound too soppy, but this is the first time I’ve felt like this. Claire is the one I see a future with… did see… no, do see. But I’m feared she willna want tae carry on. And it’s all ma fault. I canna believe it, everything was going sae well.”

He took a larger gulp of his drink before carrying on. “I went tae see Geneva, like we spoke about.”

“Oh, did Claire not know? Has she found out?”

“Nah, I told her what I was doin’. That was fine. It’s no’ that… Geneva’s pregnant. With ma bairn. I told Claire last night.”

John was stunned into silence at this revelation, before bursting forth with a barrage of questions. “Oh my god, Jamie, pregnant? Really? Yours? Are you sure? And telling Claire? How did she take it? Sorry, stupid question… of course she’ll have taken it badly. But does she think you’d slept with Geneva while seeing her?”

“Aye, I’m sure it’s mine. I’ve kent Geneva for a good while and the way she thinks. And Claire, weel, she kens it was just afore I met her. She took it as well as anyone would… blamed me fer being led by ma cock, no’ ma brain. Blamed me fer leading Geneva on when I’d no mind tae have a relationship wi’ her. Then took me tae her bed. Like a vixen she was, till… weel, till I wasna as sensitive as I shoulda been. And she told me tae go. Jes’ a couple of texts since then. And I’m worried, John. What if I’ve screwed it all up? What if she doesna want tae be wi’ me? I dinna ken what I’d do. What will I do, John? ”

“I don’t know, Jamie, I really don’t know.”

John had never seen his friend this upset about a woman. To Jamie, girlfriends had always been like buses, if you missed one, just hang around and another will be along soon enough. He realised that Claire must be really quite special.

“All you can do is talk to her and listen to her too. I’m sure she won’t want to throw away what you have. But you must realise it’s a lot for Claire to deal with, a child and an ex! She knows you weren’t unfaithful to her. And you’ll need to reassure her that you won’t be going back to the woman. That’s not what Geneva wanted, was it?”

“Aye, she did suggest we could try again. But I made it clear that wasna going tae happen. And even if Claire and I canna…” Jamie paused for a moment before taking a deep breath and continuing. “Even if Claire and I willna be together, I will never be wi’ Geneva. John, dinna tell anyone about this, please. I want tae have it all sorted afore I have tae start explaining tae people... Another one, eh?”

Jamie drained his glass and stood up. John wasn’t sure he could stomach another neat whisky but felt that asking for some ginger ale to go with it might send Jamie over the edge. He just nodded and passed his empty glass over.

Jamie returned with two whiskies and two packets of salt and vinegar crisps. He ripped one open and shovelled a couple of handfuls into his mouth. Conversation between them stopped until Jamie finished crunching. He wiped his hands on his tracksuit and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“And do ye ken, while all this is goin’ on in ma head… what about Claire… what about Geneva… how do I explain tae Claire… what do I tell Jenny and Da… the one thing that’s no’ gettin’ a look in is the poor wee bairn that’s goin’ tae be arrivin’. I mean, I dinna want tae have a baby this way.”

“I know... but It’s awfully convenient for Geneva isn’t it? She wants to be in a relationship with you. Suddenly she’s pregnant. Call me a cynical lawyer, and I know accidents can happen but... think about a DNA test when the baby’s born. Just remember, I’m here for you as a friend but I’m also here in my professional capacity. I hope you don’t need that but bear that in mind.”

Jamie’s phone, resting on the table, bleeped. He snatched it up.

Sassenach: xan we taiolk???

Sassenach: im aa bit pissssed, och aye xx

**************

Fortunately for Claire, and more fortunately for her patients, she had no theatre or outpatient sessions, so she could spend the day in her office, fortified by strong black coffee, dictating patient letters and catching up on other paperwork.

She found it difficult to focus though. Her mind kept replaying the conversation between herself and Jamie last night, culminating in forcing Jamie to leave her flat, in a taxi, with a bad case of blue balls, no doubt.

It had been unkind, and possibly not rational of her to do that, but just when she had reached a level of acceptance of the situation, he had tried to include contraception as part of foreplay. That had hit hard, not only Geneva’s pregnancy, but his goddamn lack of sensitivity.

Claire’s secretary tried to keep her spirits up by frequently bringing her pots of tea and rounds of toast. (“This is what keeps the NHS goin’, ye ken, pet. Nice bit of hot tea and a bite of toast. Soon put the colour back in yer cheeks.”)

Her phone rested on the desk, distracting her from her work. She kept picking it up, poised to send Jamie a text, but unsure what to say, she would put it down again. The messages she had sent to Jamie were short responses to his, giving away nothing.

By mid afternoon she had had enough. The caffeine from the copious amounts of coffee and tea had given her a headache so she decided to walk home, trying to clear her head. As she gathered her papers together, shoving them into her bag, the screen of her phone lit up, announcing the arrival of a message. She picked it up, disappointed when Geillis’s name appeared.

G: r u ok. Didn’t c u 2day

Claire: it’s complicated. Come round later for a drink?

G: ok. C u l8r

******

The door was unlocked, so Geillis let herself in and headed straight for the living room. She sat down as Claire appeared, struggling to carry two whisky tumblers, an ice bucket and a bottle of Broch Tuarach.

“Celebratin’ are we? Ye’ve brought out the good stuff, I see.” Geillis commented

Claire poured two very large whiskies and passed one to her friend. She dropped three ice cubes into her whisky, letting the contents splash over the rim of the glass and onto the table.

“Oh bugger... I’ll have bloody ice in my whisky if I want. I might actually want it to dilute the flavour, he doesn’t bloody know what I want, that’s for sure.”

Claire tried to mop up the spillage with the hem of her shirt, succeeding only in spreading the moisture over a larger area. Geillis began to suspect that this was not her first drink of the evening.

“So, I take it we’re no’ celebratin’ here then. What’s the problem, Claire? My hunch is it’s man-related, am I right? Come on, tell me, while I savour this fine dram.”

“I don’t know where to start. We’ve been friends for, what, seven years now? You saw me with Frank and know what shit he put me through. I’m so relaxed with Jamie. I don’t want to be soppy but I love the way he makes me feel. I see a future with him, or, well I did and it’s suddenly got so complicated.”

Claire swigged her drink.

“Basically, last year Jamie was in a relationship with a woman called Geneva. Stupid bloody name. Anyway, he finished with her, but they briefly got back together just before I met him. He ended it again. Then a few days ago she started sending him messages asking to meet up.”

“Oh, did he go and no’ tell ye? Is that it? And ye’re right, ‘tis a daft name.”

Claire took another large swig. The ice was starting to hurt her teeth. She fished a couple of cubes out of her drink and dropped them back in the bucket.

“No, He told me he was going to see her to make it plain there was no chance. That was fine. It’s not that… Geneva’s pregnant. It’s his baby. She’s keeping it. He told me last night.”

”Ye dinna think he shagged her while he was wi’ ye? Christ, a bairn. Why would anyone want a bairn?”

“I know it…” Claire drained her whisky. “Him and her… them… was before me. But I hate the thought of him screwing that cow. I’ve never met her but I’m sure she’s a cow. Anyway, I got mad and accused him of thinking with his cock.”

Geillis raised her glass in salute and nodded. “He’s a man, that’s what they all do. Can work to our advantage, though.”

“And I accused him of leading Geneva on. Then I got all maudlin about our babies.”

Geillis eyed Claire’s midriff. “No’ ye too? ‘Cos the amount of alcohol ye’re shifting would no’ be good.”

“G, of course not. I meant hypothetical babies.”

“They’re the best kind,” Geillis muttered. “Dinna get under yer feet, or smell, or cry or…”

“Focus, G. So after rage and tears, I then turned into some sort of vixen and practically pounced on him. Until he suggested that I put the condom on him, all sexy-like. So I asked him to leave. That’s it. What should I do, G? I want him, but it’s all getting so messy.”

“I dinna ken, Claire. Mebbe another drink?” Geillis handed Claire her glass in expectation as she carried on talking.

“Ye have tae figure out what ye want. That’s ye, no’ Jamie or that woman or a bairn. Think about jes’ yerself. What are ye willin’ tae deal with? And then all you can do is talk tae him. If ye want him, ye have tae remember he wasna unfaithful. He needs tae gi’ ye reassurance that he willna go back tae the bitch. But if ye dinna feel ye want these complications, think carefully about what ye’re givin’ up. Either way, it’s gonna be difficult... Now pour that Broch Tuarach. I could develop quite a taste fer this.”

Claire poured two more very large whiskies and drank deeply.

“And I need to remember,” she started, slurring her words. “I can be angry, really really mad as hell with Jamie and totally pissed off with Genevieve, sorry, Geneva who I bet is a total dog breath and always coordinates her handbag with her shoes. And I bet she gets one of those really neat bumps, not fat or all round… sorry, what was I saying? Oh, I remember. But there’s going to be a li’l baby with red hair and curls and I’d have to meet it. And it might not like me and cry for Gennifer, sorry, Genevieve, I mean Geneva.”

And with that, Claire closed her eyes and rested her head on Geillis’ shoulder. Geillis patted her curls affectionately and carefully removed the glass, now at a precarious angle, from Claire’s hand.

“What I’m thinkin’ is, ‘twas verra handy how she got pregnant by accident, is it no’? Verra suspicious. Well, Claire, ye need tae talk tae Jamie as soon as possible and get this sorted. And remember, I may no’ be tall, but I’m verra strong and I’ve a friend who works with horses and can always lend me a castration tool. In case ye need it.”

******

Claire woke up as Geillis shut the front door and headed home. Still drunk, Claire fumbled in her bag for her mobile and started typing.

Claire: xan we taiolk???

Claire: im aa bit pissssed, och aye xx

Jamie: Of course. When? Now?

Claire : tomrw. need sleeep noo. want crosssant. sooooooo hungry. byeee

Claire:stupid fukin sperms

[lawful-evil-novelist]

Fictober Day 10: “You think this troubles me?”

Fandom: Dungeons and Dragons, Legend of Drizzt, Icewind Dale (all part of the same fandom but like, moar) Project: The Icewind Saga (relatively new, still experimental) Characters: Nalfein, Dinin, and Erevain Rating: Teen and Up Note: I wanted to work on Dinin and Nalfein’s dynamic first and then figure out if I want to add Drizzt.  I decided I do but I thought the character work was a good piece for fictober.

Erevain was ignoring most of the other patrons to the inn, more consumed in what he was doing than anyone around him, not that many people were nearby anyway.

“Don’t wander off too far,” came a request as someone walked into the room.

“This inn is the size of like, a house I don’t know how far I can wander,” came the reply, tinged with an elvish accent, “it’s freezing up here and there’s a fire.”

“It’s called Icewind Dale for a reason ya half-wit dark elf,” came another remark.  The occupant of the room, someone clad in all black and standing just beside Erevain, laughed softly but didn’t reply.  Erevain glanced up from his book and jolted.  Leaning against the mantle of the inn’s fireplace, hands folded behind his back so the fire reached them, was a small, slender drow with a long white ponytail and light green eyes.  Erevain’s sudden movement caught the drow’s attention, but it quickly moved away, paying more mind to the muffled conversation occurring in the room over.  After a long moment of silence, he looked back at Erevain, holding out one hand.

“Nalfein,” he introduced, but quickly retracted the hand before the thought of taking it even crossed Erevain’s mind.

“Are you-?” Erevain began, trying not to sound rude, “Being polite?”

“Yeah,” Nalfein gave a slow nod, “yeah, I think I’m being polite.”

“Why?” Erevain asked.

“Because...I have manners?” Nalfein looked utterly bewildered.

“I just-” Erevain cut off, realizing he sounded like his cousin Xan again.

“You just don’t think drow have manners,” Nalfein finished the thought, “Do you think this troubles me?  Tell me about yourself then cousin, I’m in an inquisitive mood.”

Nalfien fell into the chair across from Erevain and pulled his legs up to sit cross-legged.  To urge Erevain to speak more, he smiled.

It didn’t work.  Erevain was now twice as suspicious and really wanted this drow to go away.

“Nal he doesn’t want to talk to you,” a dwarf scolded from the door, “no one does.”

Nalfein’s smile vanished and he started to get up, but stopped himself and sat right back down, eyes closed and mouth set in a firm line.

“Baby,” the dwarf snapped, then left.  Erevain stared at Nalfein for a moment before speaking.

“Not to be rude, but I don’t really trust you enough to say anything,” he admitted, “I grew up with stories of drow and their evil.”

Nalfein didn’t reply, he only heaved a heavy sigh.

“Would you mind going away?” Erevain asked.

“Yes,” Nalfein said sharply, not elaborating further.  After a moment, he stopped, looking at the doorway once more.  His face softened a little and Erevain followed his gaze.

Peering out from behind the doorframe was another drow, this one not much older than twelve.

“Were you waiting for me, Dinin?” Nalfein asked.

“When are we going home?” the small drow asked.

“I just need to finish this one task for the archmage, then we’re good,” Nalfein replied, standing, “Why?  Do you miss uncle Zak’s training already?”

“No,” the young drow scowled.

“Then you,” Nalfein scooped up the child and put a finger on his chest, “need to stop whining.”

The small drow scowled, then looked at Erevain.

“Surface elf!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, “Faerie!”

The drow leapt from Nalfein’s arms and ran towards Erevain, holding a small dagger in his small fist.

“No!” Nalfein grabbed the child before he could do any damage, “Sorry, he’s still new to the surface.  He’ll learn.”

“Fight me!” the small drow demanded.

“Yeah no, we are going back to the cranky dwarf and we are not stabbing the nice surface elf, Dinin,” Nalfein said softly, “we don’t stab people.”

“Yes we do,” Dinin insisted.

“We don’t stab people who haven’t done anything,” Nalfein corrected himself, “and certainly not if there’s no benefit.  Why would we need to kill him?”

“Because he might betray us,” Dinin said firmly.

“Okay,” Nalfein nodded, “I need to remind Zak that Briza isn’t an acceptable babysitter.”

“Briza’s smart.”

“Oh no she’s not, she just tells people that.”

“Then why’s she so strong?”

“Because she’s taller than you?  Honestly Dinin I can pick you up and I’m shorter than mother.”

“Matron!”

“Mother.”

Erevain cracked a smile, “Yours?”

“By Lolth’s teeth, no, no he’s my younger brother,” Nalfein answered, “I have no children and am rather thankful no priestess of Lolth has decided I’d make a fine broodmare because I quite like living.”

“Archmage likes you,” Dinin remarked.

“Archmage isn’t gonna kill me for breathing wrong, now you need to stop talking.”

“I AM A FREE DROW NOT BEHOLDEN TO YOUR ORDERS!” Dinin shouted as loudly as he could.

“Do you need a nap?” Nalfein asked.

“I need to stab him,” Dinin pointed his small dagger at Erevain.

“Someone come take my brother before I hurt him!” Nalfein shouted out of the room, a remark that came with a very frantic human darting into the room, scooping up Dinin, and running back out with Nalfein in tow.  Erevain watched them leave and tried hard not to laugh.

Drow were less evil and more a bizarre array of dysfunction Erevain associated more with dwarves.

It was entertaining, in a way.

[bladesurgence]

Here’s my problems with the Irelia lore. 

The first part of Irelia’s lore is I guess trying to reconcile the issue with the Lito name. Her father was only referred to as Master Lito and people weren’t sure if that was the family name or just the father’s name. Now it’s clear - Irelia Xan, Lito Xan. I personally liked Lito as the last name. So I’ll keep referring to her as Irelia Lito. I feel it rolled off the tongue better. (My headcanon for her father’s first name was Santiago, if that matters. It’s less ‘Asian’ in origin, but I feel like Irelia is not 100% Ionian or 100% based on East Asian culture.)

I am fine with this take on Irelia being a dancer. It’s a good portrayal that allows you to tie into the character concept of dancing blades. Then they mention this ‘Spirit of Ionia,’ whatever that is. Maybe it’s the embodiment of balance and harmony? Probably? Supposedly we’d learn about this later or in another champ’s lore.

Seeking to master the art, she eventually left home to study with some of Ionia’s most respected performers at the Placidium of Navori. 

This fits in with my personal headcanon, even if the reason isn’t the same. She went to learn the blade from an Ionian sword school, meaning that she wasn’t home when Noxus struck. Now she’s leaving home to study the dance - OK.

Irelia returned to her village to find it already occupied, with steel-helmed soldiers from distant Noxus shoving unarmed civilians through the streets with the butts of their spears. The Noxian Admiral Duqal had seized the Xan home to quarter his fleet officers.

In the original lore, Noxus simply burned the village down. You could make a case for Noxus trying to use this village as a strategic outpost, so it’s fine. It makes them less hellbent on complete destruction, at least not at first. (See Riven’s lore.)

Irelia’s brothers and her father Lito had evidently protested; her entire family now lay in unmarked graves, in the gardens.

Why would they protest in such a way that it got them killed when Noxus was simply occupying the village? Did Noxus really just pick one house arbitrarily, and then kill the people who didn’t want to submit? I feel it makes more sense for the story to explain that her family was also skilled at the blade or something, and physically opposed them. There is no mention of Master Lito, renowned swordsman of Ionia, here. He used to be so gifted of a warrior that other city-states would seek out his teachings. Now he just died. And Zelos is completely removed from Irelia’s story. He used to be a captain in the fleet that sought out Demacia for help.

Ravaged by grief, the young girl saw Duqal’s men hauling valuables from the house. Among the loot was a large metal crest, depicting the Xan family emblem. Irelia raced to it, wrenching it from Noxian hands. The admiral himself hurled her to the ground, and had his warriors shatter the crest with a heavy iron maul, before ordering them to dig a fresh grave for this upstart child.

I was hoping that Irelia would have an actual enchanted blade, or set of blades. But instead it’s just her family emblem. While this is fine - it sort of replaces the aesthetic of the Mantle of Decorum - it’s not a blade.

Compared to Irelia’s village actually burning down, her house being occupied and looted feels so tame in comparison. I don’t like it. Compare this to Master Yi’s or Varus’ or Yasuo’s lore. There were villages being destroyed or at least huge battles taking place. Irelia got her power from an old family treasure about to be carted away.

As they surrounded her, Irelia averted her eyes, looking to the pieces of the Xan crest scattered on the ground. From deep within her soul, she felt a strange rhythm begin to beat. The shards of metal began to twitch, to twist, moving seemingly on their own, and Irelia felt the serene joy of the ancient dances once more...

With a sweep of her arm, she sent the pieces flying like ragged blades, cutting clean through two of the Noxians. As Duqal and his officers reeled in shock, Irelia snatched up the shards of her crest, and fled the village.

Here is probably my largest complaint with the lore. I loved the old lore’s imagery of Irelia fighting at the Placidium, taking up a blade against an entire Noxian horde, and then being struck down by blood magic or necromancy or something, and then being revived. Instead, Irelia just discovers that she’s a wizard. I thought they might have changed her story to include a more reasonable way of Irelia being able to acquired a telekinetic set of blades, but this is really lame in comparison. It’s STILL deus ex machina.

Also the Noxians run away after she kills two people. Really? Why didn’t they try to overpower her? It’s just one girl. Even if Irelia could magically kill them all, it would still make for a better story, and would explain that the blades are really powerful.

The Noxian occupation soon began to test the fragile peace of the First Lands. It was said that even the religious leader Karma had been forced to strike back at the invaders with deadly magic, though her followers had now withdrawn to the Lasting Altar and would not condone any further violence. Across Navori, dissenting voices began to band together. A resistance was forming, one that would not rest until Ionia was free once more. Irelia joined their ranks, performing her cherished dances for them in the woodland camps, to preserve some vestige of their vanishing culture.

This suggests that, just like in the old lore, Noxus’ attack was swift and unexpected. It takes several years for Ionia to actually amass a resistance, but it’s not even an army. Just a few bands of people trying to work together to resist occupation. This is fine - I don’t think Ionia was that militarily prepared anyways. I pictured that Irelia joined the ranks as a common soldier anyways - but before she got mysterious blade wielding powers. I also like that she was still a dancer here, so it sets her apart from being just an average soldier, and still is a harmonious soul at heart.

She was barely fourteen years old when she found herself back at the Placidium. Her band of resistance fighters joined the militia who had sworn to guard the monasteries and wild, sacred gardens.

But Noxus knew only too well what this place represented. A particularly cunning general named Jericho Swain captured the Placidium and took its defenders hostage, hoping to lure the inevitable reinforcements into a trap.

Here’s another problem. Remember the Great Stand at the Placidium? Noxus was approaching the gates and Ionia wanted to surrender? But it was split between people wanting to fight and people wanting to give up and Irelia’s voice inspired people to fight? Instead, Swain just captures the Placidium. The capital (not canonically, but it was a HUGE city relative to other Ionian cities). There’s no mention of its strategic location here, and it doesn’t seem like Riot intends for it to be the capital or a major city. It seems to be a spiritual center instead.

It was in this moment that Irelia rose to meet her destiny. Freed from her bonds, she unleashed the full potential of her ancient blade dance, lashing out with graceful zeal. A dozen of Swain’s veterans fell, sowing chaos in their ranks as the other captives joined her, before she struck down the general himself—the sight of this rebellious girl hefting his severed arm over her head would be the turning point of the war.

??? Suddenly Irelia just kills people. There’s no mention of how Irelia gets to the fight when the Placidium is captured. Did she really just walk out there and attack Swain’s troops? The old lore played this much better. Irelia inspired the people to lead one last charge, but because she was so reckless, she got herself killed. Instead, Irelia just walks up to Swain and slices off his arm. No peel?

This victory, the Great Stand at Navori, ensured that everyone in Ionia knew the name of Xan Irelia, and looked to her for leadership. Reluctantly, she led the growing resistance for almost three years of grueling battle before her triumph at Dalu Bay. There, she finally cornered the defeated Admiral Duqal, and exacted the vengeance she had sought for so long.

This is not a Great Stand. This is Irelia thinking, ‘oh I can kill these guys, so I will.’ What happened to Irelia hefting her FATHER’s sword and pledging to hold the Placidium until her brother arrived? This battle doesn’t have as much emotional potential. It just seems like she decided to defeat the Noxian host because she could.

I do like that the war continued here - I feel like the Placidium was a turning point, but the war was still technically going. This means she was seventeen when the war actually ended, which is about the age I had when the Placidium happened in the old lore.

Though the war has long since ended, Ionia has been permanently changed by it. The First Lands are now divided, with rival factions fighting each other almost as bitterly as they did the Noxians. Many continue to look to Irelia for answers but, while others might welcome such power, Irelia remains uneasy with it.

So she’s not even the Captain of the Guard anymore. Sure, she’s a general I suppose, but they don’t even give her the title. I do like that she doesn’t like the idea of power, and would rather take a backseat to things. It’s why I said that even though she provided leadership during the war, she retreated back to Captain of the Guard instead of being the actual army leader because she was focused on protecting people. That was my Irelia’s theme. It seems like Riot took the blade dancer aspect but didn’t really do anything cohesive with it.

tl;dr In short, I’m really disappointed with the lore. No Master Lito, no Master Lito’s blade, no Zelos, no real Great Stand at the Placidium, no death and resurrection, no Captain of the Guard.

[trip-downtheriverstyx]

First Day Of My Life || One-shot

Summary: Opal, Hades’ daughter, deals with the trials of a first day of university

The night before school, Opal does not sleep. She is like her father in that way. Often times he’s teased her it’s because she was conceived by the wicked blue candlelight of the Keres, which has turned her this colour blue on the inside—made her pale like him, made her restless, made her feel safest when the stars are out. Oh, she’s nothing like her brothers of course, both wearing the Underworld bold on their pale brow as they pass secrets to each other through the ghosts, their own invisible game of Telephone. But she is a child of Keres. A child born in the eye of Lachesis’s needle. A child who dances on the thread of fate.

And she’s Belle’s daughter too, which means she’s restless because it’s school tomorrow, and she’s excited.

There’s a soft knock on her door and she turns in her rocking chair, where she curled up with a book. It’s her father, who must have heard that tiny squeak of the chair.

“—You’re supposed to be in bed,” he said, arching a fine brow.

“I was just going to bed,” says Opal to that. “Really. I was just reading.” Her father keeps staring at her. “Alright, looking.” The stare continues. “Alright, my thoughts were wandering. I’m not nervous though, I swear.”

“You don’t have to go,” he says. He folds his arms. “I don’t see what that place can teach you that we can’t.”

“Don’t let Mum hear you say that—”

“I didn’t go to uni, I turned out just fine.”

“Well, I want a degree like any normal, Mundus 18-year-old—”

“Opal, you’re not normal.”

“Well—besides from being dead, I guess.”

Her father only blinks at the word, his lips still pressed in a line, so thin it was as though she’d drawn it on herself. He doesn’t like that language, he’s told her, not because it’s upsetting, but because it’s inaccurate. Opal Acheron is not dead. Not yet.

She’s almost dead though. She would be dead, if her father was not the ambassador of the three worlds.

“Next year, you will be 18 again,” he continues. “And if you want to go then, you can still go. In the meantime, I can take you anywhere in the world. To Japan, Germany, Russia. Anywhere.”

Opal closes her book in her lap and smiles at her father, who is quite good at pretending to be unbothered when he is just that. Only she and her mother know the correct crease on his brow to look for. It’s his tell. “Daddy,” she says sweetly. “Really, I’ll be fine. Alexandre and Bellamy will be there. That’s why I’ve waited a year to go. It’ll be like nothing’s changed.”

Her father snorts again, but he nods. “Alright,” he says. “Now go to sleep. Just because you’re dead,” he says it playfully, giving an eyeroll “doesn’t mean you don’t need sleep.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she says back to him. And as the door shuts Opal looks away from the window and to the candle of Keres there on its sill, touching the fire with the tip of her finger, and pretending, for a second, that’s she’s alive.

One year ago, Opal felt an old pain twinge in her chest and for a moment she became breathless. When next she breathed again, the air sat on her chest, growing heavier like a stone falling through her, dragging her down with it.

It was just a few days later that her father touched her cheek and made a face she’d never seen—he was terrified.

Opal had a tumor. Opal had a tumor that was too dangerous to operate on. Opal had a tumor that perhaps magic could fix, but Opal did not have anything for the magic to trade. Opal, and her family, had to make a decision.

“The only thing irreversible is death,” declared her father, looking her straight in the eye. “Before that, anything is possible.”

So Opal, 18-year-old Opal, decided to bargain with the ambassador of death.

She had not died, but she was not alive either. She stayed frozen, perfectly safe in Limbo during the waking hours, before she was called forth by the candle of Keres at night like her father before her, like the candles that burned on the bedside the night she was conceived eighteen years ago. Perhaps her father was right when he said that she was blue on the inside. She liked to think that tumor of hers was blue. She liked to think it was shaped like a flame.

When Opal wakes up, her flame is out and her bed is empty. She opens her eyes and is on top of the ceiling. She huffs—she always does that. A year in ghostskin and she still can’t keep her feet on the ground in the morning!

Her door opens and in comes Alexandre, looking up at Opal. “Still can’t keep your feet on the ground?” he teases.

“Oi, you’re supposed to knock!”

“You’re gonna make me late for our 9am. Mum’s made toast with that strawberry jam you like. If you want a taste.”

Opal closes her eyes and when she opens them again, she’s right in front of Alexandre, her once-younger brother (he’s caught up to her now—funny, strange, but still, she’ll always think him little). “Fine,” she sniffs. Alexandre bites into the toast and Opal feels her own mouth fill with the taste of strawberry. Fresh as summer, though summer is waning now, and, if Alexandre’s nose is right—it smells a little of dust and leaves outside the open window.

“Mum, I love it!” Opal throws her voice so it echoes in every single room of the house.

“She’s already at the bookstore,” scoffs Alexandre. “Bloody hell.”

“How am I supposed to—nevermind. Can we go now?”

“Aren’t you going to get changed?” Alexandre eyes her up and down. She’s in an old t-shirt from a community play (Hamlet—she was Rosencrantz) and green sofie shorts all rolled up. She blinks once and stares at him—hard—challenging their father. Alexandre just looks bored, turning and chomping on toast before clomping down the stairs.

“Up to you!” he calls to her.

“Plenty of students go to their first class in pajamas!” she calls back. “Even the ghost ones!” But she scrunches up her face and imagines herself in something else anyway. This is, after all, the closest thing to a first day of university that she will get. She imagines all the lines of her are solid, thick, real. She imagines boots on her feet and rolled down socks and—stealing Bellamy’s flannel to tie ‘cross her hips—

“Stop tryin’ to nab my clothes!” barks Bellamy from down the hall. Whoops. She forgets, sometimes, how wonderful she is at moving things with her mind now that her mind can be everywhere at once. Like father, like daughter.

Anyway, when she opens her knees, she’s walking along the stone path toward town next to Alexandre. “How do I look now, little brother?” she chirps as she skips in front of him, walking backwards.

“Boo-tiful.”

“Haha.”

“Hey, remind me--what did mum say about you possessing me if you knew the answer? That’s allowed right? She said yes to that, yeah?”

“Alexandre, we haven’t even gotten into town and you’re trying to cheat—”

“Just a question!”

In class, she cannot find a seat.

This is because she is invisible to the eye and no one will spare the poor ghost girl a place. A terrible excuse.

“You were supposed to save me that spot,” she sing-songs at Alexandre as she stands in front of his desk. He is staring through her, ignoring her now, only…

His voice fills the room, echoing off the walls of Limbo. Sit down. We’re goin’ over the syllabus.

“I have no where to sit, Xan!”

Sit on the ceiling for all I care. Stop. Distracting. Me. It’s my first day too.

Heaving a sigh, Opal turns back around toward the board where Dr. Thatch is yammering on about essays and due dates. At first she considers the sitting-on-the-ceiling method, but going topsy-turvy made her insides go all over the place. So she sets her jaw, reaches back to tighten her ponytail and then flounces through the desks and through the students toward the front of the classroom, where she sits, cross-legged, right there on the floor.

Like mother, like daughter.

Her next class is with Bellamy. He is Opal’s favourite little brother, in case you were wondering. Unlike Alexandre, he is not a cocky shit with attitude problems. He is a know-it-all with attitude problems. Opal, as a know-it-all herself, finds they share common ground. She finds him in the hallway outside their literature class, a book already open, nose in it. She flips a page from down the hall just to make him look up and scowl at her, as she skips on down.

“You’re not cramming are you? Not already? I thought that was Xan’s job.”

“I don’t think our European Folklore and Magiliterature class is going to feature Hubert’s Dune,” he tells her dryly, lifting up the book. A student—a blonde, pony-tailed creature who knows how to do eyeliner and Opal’s jealous of that-- looks at them, because Bell hates talking telepathically. It gives him headaches, he claims. Sometimes he accidentally says what he’s thinking, and gods forbid that!

His head jerks and he looks directly at her. “What? Sort of in the middle of a private conversation,” he informs her bluntly.

“Bell, be nice. She could be a friend,” says Opal.

He looks back at her and make a face. The girl goes “Uhhh…”

“I’m talking to my sister who is a ghost. If you’re new to Swynlake…” he trails off and rolls his eyes. Then looks back at Opal. “Anyway.”

“I think she’s sort of cute, you should ask her out,” says Opal.

“I don’t like girls, I like books,” he says.

“Right. Erm. Please save me a seat? Xan didn’t and it was bloody awful.”

He nods and then the door opens. When they all file inside, Bellamy puts one of his notebooks on the desk beside him and drapes that flannel from earlier. “My sister’s sitting here,” he tells a kid who comes in last minute and then stares him down until he goes away.

And Opal happily takes notes all class, she and Bell exchanging little looks every time someone gawks at the pencil twirling in the air.

Lunch hour, she lays out on the grass with Alexandre on one side and Bell—still with a book in his hands, reading as he munches on crackers—on the other. It’s beautiful out. Through Alexandre’s nose, she smells the fresh grass. If she closes her eyes and concentrates as hard as she can, she can feel the grass on his ankles and on his arms.

But she cannot feel the sun. She tries, but she can’t. It filters through her and all around and she cannot remember the last time she was warm.

“I think it’s going well, don’t you?” she murmurs half-way through the hour. Alexandre shifts on the grass and looks her way.

“Feel like you’re learnin’ anything?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she comments with a tiny shrug of her shouldesr on the grass. Then she sighs and sits up again and stares out at the busy quad, all the students rushing to their classes. She wants to be one of them. To feel the pavement scuff under toe. To feel the weight of the books on her back. She doesn’t want to keep stealing bits of life from Alexandre’s mouth and ears and eyes and nose. Maybe her father was right and all this was going to do was turn her heavy and sad inside, more ghost than girl.

She sighs again, then flicks her eyes up and sees—

Someone is looking right at her.

She looks to her left. Her right. Behind her. She reaches out on instinct to try to tug on Alexandre’s sleeve but just sends a shiver into his body, which is enough of a jolt for him to jerk up with a nasty snarl—“OI, what the HELL—”

“Xan, he’s—that boy is looking at me right? Bell? Bell,” she says his name again and jerks the book out of his hand, sending it halfway cross the quad.

He sits up too. “That was fucking rude.”

“Look, look at that boy—he’s looking at me. He sees me! He sees me, yes?”

Xan squints across the quad too and then heaves a sigh. “Christ, I guess, I dunno. What, you think we’re the only mediums in town—”

“—well usually towns only have one or two mediums,” starts Bellamy, as he leans over to grab his book.

“—Okay, but it’s Swynlake, Dad lives here, I think we’re a bloody exception,” grumbles Alexandre.

“I’m going to introduce myself,” says Opal, breathlessly. Or—she would, if she had breath to begin with.

“Uhhhh, think that’s a ba—Opal!”

But it’s too late. Opal has blinked and now she’s across the quad, standing in front of the picnic table, looking at the boy. He is eating a tuna fish sandwich.

“Can you see me?” she says. The boy drops the tuna fish sandwich.

“You can hear me!” Opal smiles and she sits right next to him without pause.

“Uh…” he glances around, then looks down at his hands. “K-keep… your voice down or—“

“Oh, I’m a ghost person. It’s okay, they can’t hear me. You can though,” she talks fast. “But you knew that, right?”

The boy swallows and nods. It’s a short jerky movement, then he breathes out a harsh, awkward chuckle. “Uh yeah, sorry…” he’s still muttering under his breath. “It’s um… it’s sort of new-ish for me… “

Ah, late bloomer. This makes Opal smile a little. She’d once wanted to be a late bloomer. She’d hoped and prayed for it, wanting to be like her brothers and her father, wanting to know all the names of the ghosts that drifted through this town. She’d come to terms with it around the time she got the tumor. Ironic, thy name is Death, she supposed.

“Is…Swynlake new for you too…then?” she asks as she curls her fingers in a fist on the picnic table. “Um, I mean—are you a fresher?”

The boy nods. “Uh yah, demonology major—”

“Me too!” Opal explains and she smiles again, so bright she almost can feel it. OR—she can, but it’s not something that lives in her cheeks. It lives everywhere, in all the energy that makes Opal, Opal. She could use that energy to project her voice, that’s how happy she is. “Me too—I mean, I’ve lived in Swynlake all my life though so…if you ever want someone to show you around or something—”

“Uh—” the boy clears his throat then glances toward her, his eyes lingering for a daring second before he looks back down at his lap. “Not to be rude, but aren’t you—you know…”

“Dead?” says Opal. And she smiles again. “No. Not yet.”

 She leaves the conversation, somehow, with a name—Harry—and a number jangling in her head. She sings it under her breath, over and over, so she won’t forget it—she makes Bell write it down in the dog ear of one of his books and makes Xan sharpie it onto the inside of his palm. And now it doesn’t seem so bad really, being a dead-ish, alive-ish girl, being stuck. She won’t be stuck forever. And she won’t let it stop her.

She walks home with her brothers, one on each side, looking straight on at the sun as it begins to set. “I think mum will be very proud of us,” she announces to them. “Xan didn’t fall asleep in class, Bell managed not to run into any poles, and I made a friend today.”

“Wa-hoo,” says Xan.

“Mm,” says Bell, reading.

And it is at that moment, she feels a tug at her navel, and it’s like being set on fire again—life flooding back into her veins, her blood rushing, toes curling into her boots—

And Opal opens her eyes and takes a breath.