#who knows. maybe ill get actually good and pick up an apprenticeship (:

[maraeffect]

still can't decide if i wanna commit to piercing, or tattooing....soooo i've decided that when i move, my long term creative project will be building a tattooing portfolio....no reason 👀👀

[kieranhqs]

[ joseph gilgun, cis man, he/him ] — whoa! KIERAN YATES just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for SIX MONTHS, working as a BARTENDER @ JOE’S TAVERN & RETRO. that can’t be easy, especially at only 36 YEARS OLD. some people say they can be a little bit ROWDY and SENSITIVE , but i know them to be CONVIVIAL and SUPPORTIVE. whatever. i guess i’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to BROOKLYN! — (penny, 25, gmt, she/her, n/a)

fullname:  kieran james yates. nickname(s): kier, kj. not a particular fan of either, but will answer to pretty much anything. age:  thirty-six. birthday: march 28th. gender / pronouns:  cis man ,  he / him. but basically by default because he does not gaf. orientation:  pansexual / panomantic. place of birth: chorley, lancashire, england. current residence: brooklyn, new york. height: 6'0. personality: loyal, immature, unreliable, kind-hearted.

( tw ; substance abuse, mental health, alcohol, drugs / use )

born in lancashire to young parents who were struggling with substance abuse ; the last time they were really involved in kieran's life was his birth. and his dad was three hours late for that, so it really set the scene. much of his childhood was therefore spent in and out of care ( mostly in ), but he doesn't hold it against his parents. looking back, it's pretty clear that they were not prepared and frankly ill-suited to look after a child anyway.

kieran hated school from the moment he stepped foot in it. actually, he quite enjoyed the first year of primary school, but from there it went downhill. he was consistently truant from about the age of seven and generally a nightmare for many a social worker, foster parent & group home.

it wasn't until seventeen ( when he decided to go back to try and pass maths & english to get a mechanic apprenticeship ) that he was finally diagnosed with adhd & dyslexia and depression & anxiety, but he knew about the latter. it had the opposite of the desired effect, though -- sure, he could admit that it helped him understand himself a bit more -- but it also became the final nail in the coffin of effort in educational attainment, so he dropped out of college and kept working as a bartender in his local.

with nothing but evening work in the pub to keep him occupied, and a boredom so deep it had definitely seeped through into his bones, kieran turned to petty crimes to entertain himself. it was mostly theft -- he was surprisingly good at it for someone with all the subtlety of a drunk elephant, and for someone who was very often, extremely intoxicated ( by one substance or another, or possibly a few at once ) at the time.

and that's really all he did from the age of seventeen until just over a year ago. he was sent to prison for six months for stealing a car ( actually, he'd really just taken it for a joyride and fully intended to return it, but apparently that wasn't relevant ). admittedly, it was the longest time he'd been completely sober since... forever, and he had ( foolishly, he thinks ) been quite proud of himself for that. the sobriety lasted no longer than 24 hours after kieran had been released and he woke up the next day with the desire to just leave.

he turned to the only person he felt did more than just tolerate him ( a retired teacher & local who'd suggested he go back to college and look into diagnosis, and who had really looked out for him his whole life -- though he has no idea why ) with an idea. to his surprise she agreed to help him move to the states -- he managed to raise most of the money himself, working across several establishments bartending and picking up odd jobs in the local area, but she also helped financially and made sure he had all the necessary paperwork. it was the most focused he's ever been in his life, and because of it he was doing well -- not sober, by any means, but close.

he's been in the city for six months now, living in the renaissance buildings in brooklyn with countless other roommates, and no doubt annoying the hell out of all of them. when he first moved, the wild life had calmed down a little -- for a while he'd limited himself just to alcohol use, but that was of course a slippery slope, and one he slid down almost immediately. he's managed to gain and keep ( somehow ) two jobs bartending ; one at retro in the bronx, and the other at joe's tavern in queens for a few months now, though he is kind of expecting he'll be fired soon. that's usually how it goes, and he can't blame them.

headcanons

a chaos merchant if there ever was one, and kieran lives for it in one sense. it keeps him occupied, there's always something to do, someone to go wild with, but it's also a source of serious conflict for him. he knows at the ripe age of thirty-six he should have a bit more of a grip on himself and probably mature, settle down at some point like people do. but then the predominant part of him thinks he's just not suited for that -- he's not the type of person made to be loved, just... tolerated when a good time is to be had.

needless to say, his self esteem ( and mental health along with it ) is on the floor. he would never admit it, but that is the root cause of his substance abuse. he can feel better about himself for a bit, stop thinking so much and just live in the moment ; have some fun.

does not and doesn't really know how to look after himself. he's six foot, lanky as hell and looks like a strong wind could blow him over and honestly it probably could. he never remembers to eat, cannot cook to save his life, and hasn't ever really tried to.

a sensitive, golden retriever soul beneath all the bravado and intoxication. definitely a ride or die type friend, if a little unreliable -- he'll say he's on his way, then get distracted by a side quest. such a very little / non-existent sense of self-preservation, would tie himself in knots trying to help anyone.

can't really read. well, he can. but not very well at all -- the truth is he barely learnt to in the first place, and he did not keep it up. it's probably the most difficult thing for him to do, and he is very easily dissuaded from trying to do things. it requires effort, and honestly he is a bit embarrassed about it. if you send him a text longer than a sentence or two he will just call you ( or alternatively, just show up ) to find out what's up. actually made reading a novel ( for the first time ) a goal for the year, but he hasn't even picked up a book yet -- and probably won't.

promiscuous is probably not a strong enough word for kieran. the short of it is, he loves people -- platonically, too. you just have to make eye contact with him for three seconds and you're already considered a new best friend. romantically, he's much less forthcoming. prefers and no doubt has had countless one night stands, flings, flirtationships. will flirt with anything that moves and likewise will sleep with anything that moves. the fact that he absolutely hates sleeping alone does play a part in this and there's absolutely a large part of him that would love to cuddle and chat afterwards... but that feels very intimate / vulnerable and he probably just sneaks out a lot to avoid it.

calls everybody -- absolutely everybody -- mate, love, sweetheart, babe, darling and any other term of endearment that takes his fancy in the moment. especially likes it when the receiver gets proper riled up about. bc it's funny innit. strong lancashire accent that he likes to use to fuck around with people.

wanted connections

literally everything pls. the person he's got the closest to in nyc ( aka attached himself to ) -- this could be a friend he parties with, or not ; this is the person he will go to at 4 in the morning when he's not managed to take anyone home to ask if he can stay with them. failing that, he'll literally sleep outside their door. any number of past/present flings, or one night stands. a good influence !! lord knows he needs one. regulars at either place of work. a fellow / mutual bad influence, drinking buddies, weed buddies, etc. roommates & neighbours -- those who hate his disruptive ass, those who don't mind him or at least find him kind of entertaining. cousins, however distant. coworkers. friends with feelings. general friends.

[thearchivistsjournal]

Day 287,

Morning thought: I should talk to Vernon.  Make sure there’s no hurt feelings.  Gentleman that he is though, odds are that even if there were he might try to hide it to save me any guilt.

But not today though because I have children arriving soon to deal with.

*******

First day of the new school season done.  I’ve been invited back to Norman and Marva’s again for the first time since… when was the last time?  Before the expedition to the healing spring at least.  But anyway, I’ll try to keep this relatively brief so I don’t show up late to that.

The early part of my morning was all last minute preparations for the children’s arrival.  Seating mats in place.  Wax tablets scraped.  Old ragged doll out on the desk.  Story picked out to read.  Notes assessing everyone’s proficiency from before I took ill reviewed.  That sort of thing.

Once again, the first of the children arrived before Cass and her family got into town.  Same one that was early on the first day last time too.  He seemed less nervous this time around.  Excited even.

Cass arrived not long after.  I told her I was glad to have my apprentice back.  She made a joke about everyone knowing she’s the one who really runs the classroom.  I told her not to make me rethink my opinion.  She called that bluff and we both had a laugh.

The thing that really got to me today though was the reactions from the kids as they arrived.  Most of them actually seemed to be looking forward to being back.  And they seemed happy to see me.  Like I was a cool older sibling or cousin or something that they hadn’t visited in a long time.  I hadn’t been expecting that and it was something of an effort to not get too visibly emotional over it.  It was a good feeling though.

Of course, we did have one new student, bringing the class size up to twenty for the season.  Predictably, she was more uncertain about things than the rest of them, so I tried to make a particular effort to make her feel welcome and at ease.  I swear that doll is probably an artifact of some sort.

Once everyone had arrived and settled in (they were a bit rowdier than I recall, but maybe that’s just a first day back thing) I formally welcomed them all back and settled into what was largely a repeat of last season’s first day.  Making introductions, reading them a story, some assignments to gauge where everyone stands, recess and lunch, another story, then actual lessons until parents started showing up.  The biggest difference this time around was having the blackboard.  When everyone was introducing themselves I had them all write their names on it.  Or in the case of the handful that struggled with the task (it seems a lot of them don’t get much practice outside of school) I volunteered one of the older kids to help.  I’d planned to handle that myself, but didn’t want to risk a headache in front of them from focusing too hard on breaking down the name spelling.  As for why even have introductions when they’d mostly all been in class together before, we had a new kid, some haven’t seen each other since, and I’m not great keeping names and faces matched so I needed the refresher.

Okay, this is already running longer than I meant it to, I should probably start getting prepared to head out.

*******

Dinner was really nice.  The stray cat returns to the table.  Another one of those things I didn’t realize how much I missed until I got it back.  Conversation was mostly on the first day of school resuming and Cass resuming her apprenticeship along with it.  Well, that second part wasn’t explicitly stated.  We seem to be skirting around that bit of past contention, which suits me just fine.

Once again, Cass will be staying in town with Norman and Marva for most of the season.  And the invitation for me to use their bath when I need it has been extended once more.  That’s a relief.  I’d been growing concerned about that.

I should probably head to bed soon.  Don’t want to be still sleeping when the kids arrive.

<==Previous          Next==>

[bontenten]

Bewitch

Pairings: Osamu x F!Reader x Atsumu; Miyacest WC: 7.4k Genre/Warnings: smut, fairytale retelling (Hansel and Gretel), magic au, dubcon/noncon, incest (miyacest), fear, knife, monster, bondage, snuff, vore, gore/blood, object insertion, body horror, a bit of size, tummy bulge, oral (m.receiving), anal (m. receiving), masturbation (f. & m.), voyeurism, arson...

Summary: The unexpected guests at your cottage have a mysterious past and hidden agenda. Will they allow you to accompany them on their journey?

Travelers are advised not to spend the night in the Dark Woods. It's said that beyond the last hiking trail, past a brook, lives an Evil Witch. That witch is vile and merciless; often, fools lost in the woods are never seen again. It's said that she must be over 800 years old, feeding off of the essences of children and young men unfortunate enough to cross her paths. It’s said that she even eats fellow witches. No one really knows. After all, no one who has seen her has lived to tell the tale.

It's been a few months since your teacher has left you to fend for yourself here in the woods—your first time alone during this apprenticeship. She said she had to attend a big conference with a whole bunch of other grand witches. You asked if you could tag along, but she insisted that you stay and watch the cottage. The lack of company is about to drive you insane so you often resort to conversing with yourself or the forest itself.

The soft moss muffles the sound of your footsteps as you begin the trek back home, a faint off-trail path away from the main road that no one else would usually notice. On any other day, you would just go home without a fuss, but loneliness makes people do some bizarre and odd things. For instance, the desperate longing for companionship leads to you dropping a not-so-hidden trail of fancy pebbles to inadvertently lead someone to your abode.

For most travelers, going off-trail is akin to a death sentence as any wrong turn might lure them into the forest's deadly maze. Not for you though, you know this place very well: every fallen tree, overturned log, the wanted signs nailed to the trunk...

Wait. A wanted sign?

You can make out from your distance that there are two heads on it, but the details are fuzzy, and the bounty looks smudged. Before you can get a closer look, you hear the birds caw in the trees, signaling the beginning of sunset. You pull your attention away from the poster and continue on to your way home.

The cottage is extremely cozy and warm. The windows are bejeweled and the door is solid wood. You live here comfortably with your teacher, after all, learning about the principles of magic and what it means to be a witch. It's much more than curses and spells, as your teacher would tell you, witches have character and a moral compass. Although there are certainly those who decide to experiment with the darker arts.

While you get a fire going in the huge furnace and boil some water on the stovetop, you hear two voices squabbling outside followed by three raps on the door. You're stunned by the noise, turning to face the shut door wondering if you were just dreaming about the noise. Is it? Visitors? No, you must have heard wrong.

"'Samu, I bet it's a farce, let's not." The voice sounds both tired and weary, almost out of breath.

"Let me just try again, I can smell a working kitchen in there, someone is definitely there," another voice insists. Three more knocking sounds. "Excuse me! Is the owner of the house available? My brother and I followed a path of colored stone and came upon your establishment...could you spare us some water? A bite of food?"

Two men, though they sound friendly. You're frozen in the kitchen, staring at the door that remains between you and the strangers.

"Is there someone home?" The second voice tries again. "Please, my brother is not feeling very well."

Your initial wariness for the stranger melts when you hear about the brother, which does not sound like a lie based on the raspy voice you first hear. A witch's character is fundamentally kind to all sentient beings, especially those in need. But you're still nervous, so you end up grabbing a metal ladle before carefully going to open the door. When you crack the door open, you see a pair of twins. Beautiful men, one blonde and one grey-haired. The former, with a quirky grin, although his eyes certainly look lackluster. But the other seems like he's at the right place, eyes peering past you into your home, fixated on your kitchen.

"I'm Osamu. And this," he gestures to his twin, "is my brother Atsumu. We're a bit lost, you see."

You nod your head in a casual greeting and introduce yourself as the resident apprentice at this cottage. As a good host should, you open the door to the weary guests preparing to welcome them in.

"Are we welcomed in?" Osamu asks, not moving from his spot. Atsumu isn’t budging either, arms crossed and only looking at you from the corner of his eye, waiting for your answer.

Without giving much thought you nod and open the door wider. "Both of you are most welcomed in."

"Then we thank you for your hospitality," Osamu says, taking a step inside, dragging his twin with him.

Words, especially spoken words carry power and hold intent. And a witch's words, no matter how careless they slip out, contain magic. Welcome, as you say. So welcome, they are.

You shut the door behind them and prepare to go give your first-ever guests some water. When you turn around, you notice Osamu already in the kitchen, the sleeves of his tunic rolled up past his elbows.

"Your food is about to burn. Heat's too high," he tells you, expertly taking control of the sizzling pots and pans. "I got it, don't worry."

Feeling flustered at the faint smell of scorching food, you hurry over to see if you can be of any assistance. "Let me help out."

"No, it's quite alright."

How can a host let her guests do all the work like that? And the first company in a while too! What an utter failure.

"How—" you try to argue back, but you're cut off by Atsumu tugging on your wrist, dragging you over to the sofa in the corner.

"Don't worry about him, he loves to cook." Atsumu brushes out the wisps of his bangs with a huff. "And actually quite good at it. Anything that goes through his hands...well, in short, all become part of his design."

Like his twin, Atsumu's frame is broad and huge, but there is a quality of emptiness of sorts. Osamu's shoulders are wide but there's more substance to it, whereas Atsumu's form seems contained. You can't help but use your learnings to see if you can figure out just what's off about Atsumu. He's slowly walking around the living room and studying the portraits hanging on the wall. He picks up a frame that is set above the fireplace and comments, "None of these are you. How come?"

"Oh, they're my teacher. I'm just a witch-in-training at the moment, so—"

"A witch?" Atsumu questions, clenching the frame tightly. His hands begin to shake, the glass under his thumb beginning to crack.

You did not expect Atsumu to display such a visceral reaction upon the mention of witches. After all, witches normally stayed far away from ordinary human society and when they do mix, it's often a role of healing. But the look that sparks in Atsumu's eyes, it's almost—feral.

"'Tsumu!" Osamu yells while stalking over quickly from the kitchen. He throws his arm around Atsumu's neck and drags him off into the shadows. You can't make out the muffled voices and deep growling noises that are coming from down the hall.

It's their private matter, so you go back to the kitchen. True enough, Osamu's hands are almost like magic. The bubbling pot of broth doesn't seem to be on the verge of overflowing, the onions caramelizing beautifully, filling the air with deliciousness.

Moments later, the twins come back. You notice that Osamu clothes are wrinkled from tugging Atsumu around, but at the very least, Atsumu is looking much better than before.

The three of you set the table for dinner. Osamu brings out the plates as though he knows the kitchen inside and out already. Atsumu comes emerging from the cellar with two bottles of fine wine that you didn't even know your teacher had stowed away. Surely, she wouldn't mind? With Osamu and Atsumu sitting to the left and right of you at the round table, it almost feels like a more familiar, cozier gathering between friends than a situation of a host and her guests.

They tell you that they have been traveling across the lands for a long time now, looking for a cure for Atsumu's illness. It reminds you of the hollow, repressed form you saw earlier and your curiosity gets the better of you. They don't tell you the nature of the malady, but what they do share is that they are looking for a witch to undo the curse on Atsumu, a result of dark witchcraft.

"I am a witch!" you exclaim, feeling your call to action at the moment. "Please, is there truly nothing for me to help to undo the spell?"

Osamu leans in close to you, and wipes a bit of sauce staining the corner of your lips with the pad of his thumb. He smiles. "We're looking for a very high-level witch. One day, maybe you'll get to the level of magic needed."

"You're too weak," Atsumu bluntly points out. You're sure Osamu means to say the same thing, but Atsumu's words are really sharp.

"I know," you sigh. "My teacher tells me that all the time. So, I'm really trying. I'm sure there's at least something I can do."

"I definitely think that. Don't be so hard on yourself," Osamu comforts. "Have you been living alone here for a long time?"

You feel two pairs of eyes glued onto you waiting for your answer. You smile reflexively before your eyes trail to the empty plate and carefully choose your words. "Yea. Just me and my teacher. She's a grand witch...maybe if you wait here for a few days, you can meet her when she comes back from her conference."

"We—"

"We'll be gone tomorrow!" Atsumu snaps, staring into Osamu's eyes.

Osamu doesn't pay any mind to Atsumu, and puts an extra piece of dessert onto your plate.

"We have a long way to go. Atsumu's condition isn't getting better, so we can't stop in one place for long."

It makes you a little sad, because you were hoping to spend some more time with the twins, both of whom you have grown fond of. Osamu and his gentleness. And even Atsumu, despite his quick remarks and outbursts, adds a particular spice to your mundane life.

"Maybe we'll bring you with us," Osamu comments lightly, "'Tsumu, wouldn't that be nice?"

"She'll just be dead weight," Atsumu retorts. You wonder if he absolutely hates you. Is that why he is always so against you being next to Osamu?

Osamu puts an arm around you and blows on the shell of your ear. It tickles and you can feel his body enveloping you. "But she's so sweet," he tells Atsumu and whispers into your ear, "Aren't you?"

You find your wandering gaze looking into his half-lidded grey eyes. His face is right next to you, lips just hovering barely five centimeters away. The overwhelming presence of him is undeniably alluring. Your breaths become shallow as your heart rate speeds up with desire.

"I'm exhausted! 'Samu you too. We're going to bed!" Atsumu drops the silverware onto his plate and stands up. He comes around the table, muttering curses under his breath. Atsumu grabs Osamu by the wrist and drags him off towards the guest bedroom you have shown them before.

You didn't quite catch Atsumu's angry mutters, but you hear "slut" and "harlot" thrown around a few times. Were they directed at you? No, you're not like that, you tell yourself. Atsumu must have been thinking that you are trying to seduce his twin. After you clear out the table, you decide to clear up any misunderstanding.

You tip-toe down the hall to the guest bedroom prepared to knock when you hear muffled sounds coming from inside. You carefully press your ears to the crevice of the door and clamp a hand around your mouth upon hearing the stream of moans.

"'Samu, 'Samu please, ah—"

That's Atsumu? Your eyes are wide and still trying to process the shock of what you're hearing. You tell yourself you shouldn't be here. You should not be listening to whatever is happening behind the closed door, but you can't help it. Hearing Atsumu's moans makes you want to squirm.

You slightly jump when you hear a slap, followed with a pleasured groan. The sound is so clean it feels as though the phantom hands are touching your own heated skin.

Osamu's chuckle nearly makes your knees weak.

"Don't get cocky, if it were any other day ngh—, any other day, I would be the one pushing you into the mattress."

Slap. "Shut up, cute 'Tsumu. I like you being so needy for me like this. What do you want from me? Tell me."

"Fuck me, 'Samu."

"With pleasure."

The wood creaks loudly and you tell yourself, you really need to get out as you back away and try to quickly walk down the hall back to your bedroom.

You throw the door open and lock the door behind you with a click. With your eyes closed, you try to steady your breath and the building heat in your core. It's quiet. There's no noise coming from their room. But they are twins! 

You remind yourself that a witch is all-accepting and kind. There are so many circumstances beyond your understanding, judgement is not a part of your nature. And if what they are performing is wrong, what should you say about yourself? You peel off your clothes and step out of the soaked panty that is proof of your lust.

Pillows are fluffed and covers are pulled over your body. You try to sleep, but each time you are about to drift, Atsumu's cries of pleasure come back into your head. Your hand trails down your navel until the fingertips trace over your clit. Gathering some slick from your cunt, you drag it across the sensitive bud.

You shudder from the touch as images, constructed in your fantasy, cloud your mind. You imagine Atsumu's hands spreading your legs apart and Osamu's teasing words next to your ear. He would tell you to open wide and shove his cock down your throat. You suck on three of your fingers until lips wrap over the knuckles, your saliva pooling from hunger. And slip your fingers into your cunt easily, curling them against the plush walls.

"F-fuck me," you moan into your pillow.

With pleasure.

You quiver, clit pulsating, and your pussy juice dripping into your palm. The wash from the high soon takes you into sleep. All throughout the night, you squirm and feel the phantom sensation of being watched. Not just observed, but studied, by two pairs of glinting hungry eyes. You can almost imagine them on either side of the bed, trapping you into the mattress no matter which way you turn.

A few times the weird feelings almost pull you awake, but you don't dare crack an eye open to confirm your suspicions until the morning light begins to filter through the windows, rousing you from sleep. The air is filled with fragrant herbs and the sizzle of delicious brunch from someone awake before you.

No doubt, it's Osamu, because who else can it be? Atsumu? Please. The twins....

You climb out of bed and stretch your neck on the way to the washroom. Your bedroom door is open, but it's too early to notice that detail.

"Morning!" Osamu greets you from the kitchen. You find a fresh mug of coffee shoved into your hands from him.

You mumble thanks and sip at the brew while watching Osamu fry the eggs. Osamu looks to be deep in thought, probably thinking about something pleasant from the faint smile ghosting on his face. You feel a pang of guilt from both listening to their private lives, and also the strange feelings that maybe they heard your private life too—it's all your paranoia talking.

"You're so talented," you blurt out, fisting the fabric of your long skirt.

"Thanks, but better not let 'Tsumu hear ya, he gets jealous super easily."

Even if Atsumu hears, it's fine. You really mean both of them. Both of the twins both seem super talented as a duo; like they've been out there and seen the world. Meanwhile, you're still stuck here, without company. Would it be possible...if they simply stayed?

Osamu senses the words that are stuck in your mouth and answers them for you. "We're gonna be leaving right after breakfast. There's still lots of ground to cover today," he explains, plating the pancake before preparing to ladle a spoonful of batter for the next one.

"Do you have to leave?" you ask, almost pleading.

"It's cozy here and comfortable. We enjoy your company too, but we have to go. Your teacher would hate us, immensely, and on top of that...let's just say, we're always on the run."

"You say it like you two are fugitives or something."

Osamu chuckles and leans closer to you, hot breath flaming your cheeks, or maybe it's just the heat from the stove. A teasing grin pulls his cheeks up slightly as your eyes flicker over to see his lips spell out, "Maybe. Scared?"

Embarrassed, you take a defensive step back, squeaking and bumping into another body.

"MORNING!" Atsumu announces behind you. He's in good spirits and he has his hands on your waist to steady you; he sniffs your hair and smiles before letting you go. "I smell something delicious."

"Breakfast is ready," Osamu says, plating the pancakes. "Hungry 'Tsumu?"

"Tch." Atsumu shoves past you and knees Osamu, mood doing a complete 180. You're almost left like a fly on the wall as you watch the scene unfold.

Osamu is quick to catch his balance while keeping watch on the stove. "Not awake yet?" Osamu grins and passes him a plate of pancakes, essentially telling him to shut up and eat. "Who shoved a stick up your ass? Go eat."

"Fuck you."

"Hm."

Atsumu grumbles but digs into his food anyway. Osamu catches your amused expression in the corner and explains, "It's always like that between us. It's our...way of showing how much we care."

"I know." It's sort of endearing, the banter between the two brothers. Even if the world turns against them, no matter what the odds are, at least Miya Osamu will have Miya Atsumu, and Atsumu will have Osamu. Perhaps it's exactly that sort of bond the two share that you're envious of. Body and soul. Because if only you could have just an ounce of that sort of familiarity with another. But you're just an outsider without an invitation to join in.

While you're mulling over your thoughts, you don't catch the darkening gazes being exchanged between the twins. At some point, Atsmu's plate is already emptied and the wooden table is cleared while you're still lost in your mind. Osamu is fiddling with the metal tea strainer, bobbing it up and down to brew a mug of tea. He threads a cotton string in and out like it's a plaything.

"Do you really want to be with us?" Osamu asks nonchalantly. "'Tsumu and I were talking about it. If you do, maybe we can work something out."

"I just..." You feel like this is your final chance to tell them that you don't want them to go. None of the going around circle hinting that you have been doing. This is the moment to just tell it to them. If you miss this chance, you feel like you won't have another. And even though a pit pulls at your inwards telling you to reconsider, you're brave. "I just want to be together with you all, and help you cure Atsumu. My teacher is so talented, I'm sure she'll have a remedy."

They grin.

Osamu is a great cook, he can do that. Atsumu sometimes seems lazy, but he's super strong and quick to help too. And you can pick up all sorts of other tasks in the area! Maybe because they're so helpful, your teacher will even let them stay once Atsumu is cured. Maybe they can learn magic too! You have heard of warlocks who are powerful with spells too. And you can already imagine, the three of you, like a team, eventually going out into the world to fight demons and monsters and—

"Open wide," a sultry voice sounds next to you. Backing away automatically, you find Atsumu standing right behind you.

"W-wait," your voice shakes, stuck in your throat. "What are—"

His fingers reach for your mouth, prying it open. Before you can voice your distaste, a warm, metal ball gets shoved into your mouth, the thin chain quickly tangles into your hair. The faint traces of tea seep out of its small holes down your tongue and throat, while some spill out the corner of your mouth like trails of drool down your jawline.

Osamu smiles and wipes the liquid away with his thumb, relishing in how your widening eyes gape at him in confusion.

"Being together," he answers the question you wanted to ask, "is what you want isn't it?" He takes a spool of kitchen twine and begins to secure the tea strainer in your mouth. The thin cotton threads wrap around your head over and over again, tightening the steel against your tongue.

You shake your head and try to take another step away from the man you're beginning to become wary of, but the strong grip of Atsumu's hands on your shoulder prevents you from squirming at all. His fingers dig into your flesh, and when you turn to look at him you catch a glint in his eyes, glowering down at you.

"No, no, no, behave," he taunts you, "listen to 'Samu. He'll make you feel real good, trust me."

With the gag in your mouth, all you can let out are weak, warbling gargles from the back of your throat. Why are you doing this? You weren't like this before? Loud snorts flare out your nostrils from the fear screaming through your body.

Osamu comes back with a paring knife, examining the edge under the sunlight filtering in through the stained glass. He presses the cool blade along your cheek, dragging with the dull edge just enough so the sharp end doesn't cut your skin. You feel your knees growing weak and if not for Atsumu's hold on you, you would sink into a shuddering heap on the floor.

"You know, I think you might be the best meal yet," Osamu compliments, blade trailing down to your collarbone. The tip of the knife toys with the first button, pressing tension on the x-cross stitching. Snap. The first button pops off, dropping onto the wooden floor and rolling away to an inconspicuous corner. "I'll prep you well."

Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap. The knife flicks again and all the buttons clatter on the floor before running away for refuge.

Atsumu has cleared the table already and you find yourself hoisted up and laid onto the surface like a slab of meat on a cutting board. The cold surface presses against the back of your shoulder and ass. Osamu ties your wrist together with a hemp rope and secures the other end around the table leg. He also secures your ankles to two other anchor points.

You're utterly exposed and ashamed at your body's display, mortified at how your body is reacting when you catch sight of Atsumu, his eyes dilated, looking at your slit that you know is drenched already. The rough texture of the rope presses painfully into your skin from how tight the bindings are. You can only let out gagged whines in complaint, chest rising up and down from the loud breaths.

"Can't do, love," Osamu chides, kissing the knot at your wrist, satisfied with the results. His fingertips trail down to cup your jaw and his thumb runs across the tea strainer. You close your eyes and groan at his touch. Osamu murmurs, "I won't let anything go to waste."

Atsumu is growing impatient at the sight of his twin treating you like the finest specimen ever. You're not the first one. You won't be the last one, but he still can't stand the sight of someone looking just like himself having first tastes while he's missing out himself. He wants to shove Osamu aside, but he knows that Osamu absolutely hates it when he ravages the meal when it's not ready.

Atsumu unzips his pants and lets his hardened, leaking cock spring free. You stare at Atsumu who is fixated on his own pleasure. His hand wraps around his cock and pumps the length up and down.

Osamu turns your head to look at himself instead. "Someone there is impatient, but let's not learn from him, okay? I want to take you slow, make sure you'll be ready. I don't want you stressed, you release too much cortisol and that toughens the meat."

Anything that goes through his hands...well, in short, all become part of his design.

His hand kneads your breast and toys with your nipple, circling and tugging on the tiny, erect bud.

"Relax," he whispers into your ear. "Just like you did last night."

You try to clamp your thighs shut from reflex. Immediately the resistance from the rope ties stop your movements. Osamu squeezes your thighs and pushes them apart once more.

"Right here isn't it, after hearing me fuck 'Tsumu..." Osamu's finger runs down the sides of your labia. "You just couldn't help touching yourself too huh?"

He knows. They know. You feel your cheeks burn at the realization.

"There's nothing embarrassing about it. If anyone should be, it should be us twins, " Osamu's fingers easily slip in, your pussy already dripping with arousal. "Oh woops, I shouldn't need to comfort you. You're clearly not shy."

Osamu's fingers are thick and long, able to reach far deeper than you ever can. Your tongue is still struggling against the gag while your saliva steeps the tea leaves trapped in the ball.

"Oi," Atsumu cuts in with annoyance. "I thought you said to not play with food. What the fuck are you doing, chef?"

Osamu stops his finger in you for a moment before dragging them out. You're trembling at the sudden emptiness and desire to fill the space immediately. The lack of stimulation is irritating and you are desperate.

Osamu walks up to Atsumu, bringing his drenched fingers covered in your slick to his lips for a taste. Before he can do so, Atsumu grabs Osamu's wrist and takes in those digits, sucking on them gingerly.

Osamu smiles and runs the other hand through Atsumu's hair.

"Patience is a virtue, 'Tsumu, I was just getting her fully prepared for you. I'm giving her all to you already, you couldn't even let me have a taste of her?"

Atsumu releases Osamu's fingers with a pop. "I never said I wasn't going to share," he mutters before pulling Osamu in for a kiss, passing the taste of you along their tongues.

Your body jostles as you finally get a visual matching what you heard last night. You feel your pussy leaking with more excitement, the arousal drips all the way down to your asshole. And the more you squirm, it's as though the rope ties become tighter and tighter, rubbing your skin raw. But even that pain is incomparable to the need to quell your fire.

Atsumu pulls away and presses one last kiss on Osamu's nose. "I always love what you serve, thank you 'Samu." Your heart rate rapidly speeds up as Atsumu comes towards you. He's positioned between your legs, both hands on your thighs, marveling at the display of your body. His hands feel hot.

Atsumu grins. "You probably didn't expect me to be the one taking you, huh?" He guides his cock to your entrance, the bulging tip prodding along your puffy lips. "Did you want Osamu to be the one fucking you?"

No? You want to argue, straining your head up slightly, but only tea-laced saliva drips out from the corners of your mouth.

"'Fuck me, 'Samu. Fuck me, please.' Is that what you heard? Is that what you wanted to say too?"

Your screams are muffled whimpers.

Osamu snorts off to the side, watching Atsumu do exactly what he accused Osamu earlier of: playing with his food. Hypocrite.

Atsumu glares at Osamu before turning his attention back to you. "You'll be begging for me, Atsumu, after I'm done with you."

He lines himself at your entrance and inches himself in, groaning at how your cunt is somehow just sucking him in. You're so warm and tight inside, wrapping perfectly around every part of him. He sits in you for a moment, just enjoying being blanketed by your muscles and chuckling how you tighten around him every now and then.

You whine, urging Atsumu to move a little.

"Okay, okay. Geez, and 'Samu says I'm impatient." Atsumu slowly draws his cock out and snaps his hips forward, the base of his balls slapping against your ass. He delights at how you squeeze your eyes shut and continues rocking into you at a comfortable pace.

Osamu enjoys standing off to the side for a while. He always liked watching Atsumu savor and delight the food he prepares. Atsumu always eats with such gusto. It should have always been that way, until the witch ruined everything. The curse, an experiment with the dark arts, should have never happened. Above all else, it should never have been on Atsumu. Osamu can only wonder if the reason they are subjected to this fate is because they are twins. Until a cure is found, Atsumu, his most beloved other, will have to replenish himself in this way.

A sharp pain rips through you and tears well up in your eyes. You feel Atsumu's cock suddenly begin to pulsate and grow in size. At first, you thought it was because you're clamping down on him too hard and will yourself to relax. But the cock, the thing, is certainly unnatural now. And between your tear-stained vision, you can just barely make out... Monster.

You begin to thrash wildly, head tossing side to side, back arched as much as you can in a futile escape attempt. Atsumu's claws rest on your hips while he pounds into you furiously. His groans, now deep growls, send vibrations that you can feel within your throbbing clit. You fear that you'll actually be ripped in half by the way Atsumu is thrusting into you. The engorged cockhead hits your cervix each time and his ball sack, even heavier, bowls and knocks against you.

Osamu unfolds his arms and comes over.

"It'll only hurt if you don't relax," he tells you, reaching out to press on your clit. "Just let him have his way."

"Go fuck her somewhere else," Atsumu snarls. His voice is warped and bellowing. Your mind is getting foggy as Osamu's fingers on your clit don't stop teasing the bud while having a petty talk with Atsumu. And Atsumu, ticked off by Osamu, picks up his speed.

"There we go, now that's beautiful," Osamu comments, taking his hand away and watching you unfurl in your pleasure. Your abused cunt is puffy when Atsumu pulls out, and you feel the thick liquid start to flow out when you take breaths.

"No, don't do that," Osamu chides, taking three fingers to gather the cum spilling out and stuffing it back in. "Better keep it all in. 'Tsumu isn't done with you yet."

Not yet? You can't even voice your thoughts except weakly shaking your head and moaning into the steel gag. In the moment, your stomach rumbles loudly.

"'Samu, she's hungry," Atsumu points out, rubbing your tummy. "You feed her and I'll stuff her."

Osamu ruffles Atsumu's long hair and gives his new, erected horns a teasing squeeze. Atsumu yelps at the touch. "'Samu!"

"Okay, okay," Osamu relents and stands next to your head. You see him take the paring knife again and slide the icy blade between the cotton ties and your hot cheek. A quick slice and you feel the pressure of the gag release. Osamu removes the tea strainer from your mouth and tosses it into the sink.

"Must have been so over-brewed, I apologize for that," he says. You know he doesn't mean it at all.

"Why?" you croak out. Your jaw and cheeks are sore from being held in position for so long. There's so many things you believe you can ask why about. Why they are prepping you like a meal, fucking you like a toy...Why Atsumu is the way he is. Why Osamu is not who you think he is either. Why you.

Despite Atsumu's grotesque figure, you're sure that you fear this twin more. Osamu's thoughts are so well-hidden behind his eyes; he never gives away what he's thinking or planning. You can only accept his decisions from the receiving end.

"Because of Atsumu," Osamu answers. Everything is for 'Tsumu. "I'll feed you."

Osamu cradles your head with both hands, his fingers tangled in your hair. He prods his cock against your lips. Feeling your resistance, he grips your hair tightly, painfully pulling on your scalp, and presses the tip of his cock to force your lips open. You nearly gag at the length entering your throat and your hands ball into tight fists. Your nose is buried in the base of his cock, pressing into his balls. Each breath you take is heavy with his musky, hot scent.

It's easy to focus on Osamu's cock fucking into your throat, leaving an unamused, monstrous twin off to the side preparing to turn your attention back to him by force.

Atsumu rubs himself against you, preparing to enter you again. You're sure that he has become even bigger. When the tip pushes through, your body attempts to fight the intrusion in self-preservation. The claws at your hips dig in and Atsumu all but pulls you onto his length like a sock. You scream around Osamu's cock, throat clenching around his thick length, and nearly black out from the stretch.

You never had anything this big in you before. Atsumu lifts you up slightly, his grasp becoming large enough to encircle around your whole waist. Your ankles are still tethered and tug on you, much to Atsumu's annoyance. He easily slices through the bondages with a sharp claw. Now free of restraints, Atsumu can cradle you more easily, finally pushing the last section into you. 

Crack!

You can’t cry while you're stuffed with Osamu’s cock, but tears stream endlessly from your eyes. You’re sure your pelvic floor is broken, completely forced apart in a futile attempt to accommodate Atsumu stuffing you beyond your physical capacity. Your hips give out as your two legs, bone out from their sockets, dangle grotesquely.

“Just focus on me,” Osamu wipes your tears away and continues to pump into you. But you cannot focus on the human object in your mouth when your whole lower half and inwards are broken, stretched or squashed.

"Hey look ‘Samu! It's bulging," Atsumu marvels at the imprint of his tip pushing your flesh out from the inside. “Look, my cock is saying ‘hello’.”

Atsumu excitement translates into messy thrusts, treating your body like a game. “Maybe I can even touch your dick through her!” 

Your whole body is numb, the brain shuts its pain signals off completely, and hormones pour through your bloodstream in overdrive. The broken climax spasms through your body like the last bits of a faltering system.

“Better hurry...she’s...she’s fading soon,” Osamu warns between his grunts. He clasps your head and spurts his seed into you. You mindlessly swallow every drop of him, letting the contents slowly flow down your throat. You can’t process anything nor recognize any of the murky images. Who are you? Where are you?

Your memory fades in and out as your eyesight drifts between black and white. You can’t do anything about how the monster is now on all fours over your body, unrecognizable as Atsumu. You don’t feel any fear towards this grotesque figure. You don’t register how his tongue licks your neck.

Your mouth is now empty but you can’t formulate syllables.

“I’m sorry,” you hear Osamu whisper before sharp fangs pierce into your jugular, digging in deeper and tearing a chunk out. Red sprays across your body in fast spurts, drenching Atsumu and covering Osamu. The teeth at your throat gnaw at the flesh, starved, tearing through the skin, fat, and tissues like a child crunching fruit. 

You can feel the droplets falling onto your face like fresh rain after a storm. You vaguely remember your teacher and her warning of strangers. She always reprimanded you and you wanted to make her proud. There will no longer be any chance of that now. You weren’t a good student, and only an utter failure.

Osamu waits for Atsumu to finish you off. Atsumu always gets messy at this point. Osamu tried to help Atsumu section his prey off by cutting and organizing the limbs and even attempted to debone the meal beforehand, but Atsumu has his preferences, and Osamu respects them. So, Osamu delegates cleaning duties to himself instead. 

You’re already beyond recognition when Osamu comes back with barrels of oil. All that is left is a kitchen stained with blood and a pile of bone with chewed connective tissue left. Atsumu sometimes eats the bones too, but not always.

“‘Tsumu, are you full now?” Osamu asks, reaching out to cradle his twin. Atsumu has now transformed back to the way he is supposed to be. Osamu threads his hand through Atsumu’s blonde hair and inhales his twin’s scent.

Atsumu doesn’t respond and tugs at Osamu’s collar, trailing down his arm to bring Osamu’s hand to his own cock.

Osamu grins and kisses the top of Atsumu’s head. “Do you want to fuck me ‘Tsumu? I know you like to, after your meals.”

Atsumu whines and nips at Osamu’s jaw, pushing the twin down on the blood-stained floor.

“Okay, okay.” Osamu unzips and pulls down his pants before crawling onto all fours.

Atsumu’s hand cups Osamu’s ass and pries the cheeks open before curiously fingering at the specimen plugging Osamu’s hole. Atsumu holds onto the base and turns the object, before laughing.

“‘Samu, what is this you have in your ass,” Atsumu teases. “I like this presentation.”

This time, Osamu is the one embarrassed. “Last meal, it hurt like hell. So...I wanted to prepare a little.”

“With an egg holder?” Atsumu cackles again, fiddling with the ceramic object. “Should’ve just told me ‘Samu, I could never bear to hurt you.”

Atsumu holds onto the base and slowly pulls the object out before tossing it aside. He smiles and teases Osamu’s enlarged hole that’s opening and closing around nothing. Gathering up some saliva, he spits onto Osamu’s asshole before lining his cock at the rim and slowly pushing in.

Along with the curse comes a near insatiable lust. Atsumu knows that if he doesn’t fulfill his need to fuck or be fucked, he will snap. He doesn’t really care who he kills during a frenzy of that sort, but it’s too risky to get Osamu caught up in the collateral.

The witch that wanted to create the perfect weapon, failed. She failed because she underestimated the twins’ bonds for each other. She failed because the twins discovered that witches excrete a very special hormone in their body after climax, and it is exactly that substance that is slowly curing Atsumu. With every witch eaten and absorbed, Atsumu is healing and gaining magical powers. He is even capable of passing those essences to Osamu. One day, everything will be the way it's supposed to be.

Osamu plays with a few strands of Atsumu’s hair. Atsumu’s softened cock still buried inside of him. Atsumu has his jaw resting on Osamu’s shoulder.

“You make me feel so good,” Atsumu sighs, enjoying the quiet moments after his high.

“And what about her?” Osamu asks, gesturing to the table where your remains are still at.

“She made me feel good too. The best one yet, but don’t be jealous.”

“Come on, let’s clean up and get out of here.”

After washing their bodies and changing into clean clothes, Atsumu and Osamu are ready to say goodbye to the cottage they have overstayed their welcomes at.

"Let's go 'Samu, we're already behind." Atsumu finishes dumping the last bucket of oil along the edges of the room.

The clamor of boots stride across the creaking wood. As though with the passing of its owner, the cottage itself has lost the will to live.

"Coming," Osamu calls back, walking past the makeshift funeral pyre for you. He notices a flash on the ground and bends down to pick up a button.

"'Samu! Get the fuck out or I'll burn ya down too!"

"Yea, yea."

Osamu drops the button into his shirt pocket and joins his twin outside. Atsumu strikes a matchstick and tosses the small flame into the cottage. Fire meets oil and spreads in an instance, engulfing the cottage in an angry blend of orange and red, devouring all contents and remains within. The smell of scorched wood reaches the twins who are looking at the sight from a distance.

"She was good," Atsumu comments, looking at his twin unsure about what Osamu's grey eyes are thinking about. Atsumu realizes that he didn't specify what good exactly means. But it doesn't seem like Osamu is paying much attention. Is Osamu thinking about you? Is he unhappy? Does he regret what happened to you? Although what's done is done already, if time can go back, would Osamu choose? You or Atsumu?

Osamu slips his hand into Atsumu's, erasing the unspoken worries away. He gently leads Atsumu onto the trail, leaving the burning cottage behind.

"Stop thinking such nonsense," Osamu mutters, squeezing Atsumu's hand. No matter what happens, Atsumu will always come first. His needs, his desires. That's what it means for Osamu to love Atsumu. Even though the rest of the world may not understand the relationship the twins share, calling it depraved and disgusting, it's still selfless on their part. What sin is there to honestly love? What sin is there to try and save his loved ones?

While Osamu admits to himself that he does feel a deep attraction to you and knows that Atsumu feels the same pull as well, there's nothing that can be done about Atsumu's condition. But it's not as though you are completely gone. Your essences and core are within both twins, being absorbed as one with their bodies and soul. You'll forever be with them in that way, even if you no longer have any sentient memory of it.

Osamu fiddles the button in his pocket; there's still a physical reminder of you in that tiny form.

It must be about a twenty-minute trek from the burning site. Although the flames are already far from eyesight, the scorching smell and embers still drift over. The twins pick up their pace, eager to exit the forest before nightfall and make it to the next destination. On the way, they pass by the tree trunk with a wanted poster.

"They never get my best angles!" Atsumu complains, ripping a wanted poster that is nailed to the tree trunk.

"It's not like you have a good angle, ‘Tsumu."

"Shut it, we look the same ‘Samu. You're just calling yourself ugly too!"

Osamu shrugs and continues his trek down the main trail. Atsumu huffs, tearing the parchment into indistinguishable pieces before throwing the shreds up into the air like confetti.

"Wait up!"

Osamu stops in his tracks. "Hurry up, loser. We still have a long way to go."

Atsumu takes a few wide strides and swings his arm around his twin's shoulder. Behind them, a very light drizzle falls from the sky.

[labarch]

Attempt at a Witch Hat Atelier timeline

We are still missing a lot of backstory for our main cast, but I thought I’d try and write a timeline based on what we know so far, and explore where their storylines might intersect.

I am pulling these numbers out of my hat for convenience sake, but here are some approximate ages for the characters: at the start of the manga, let’s say Coco, Tetia and Agott are all 12, Riche is 11, and Qifrey and Olruggio are 28.

20-23 years ago: Olruggio leaves his birth town Godley and moves to the Great Hall, maybe as young as 5 years old.

While many witches are born in the Great Hall, Olruggio comes from a town called Godley in the North. Yet he doesn’t remember Utowin, who came from the same place. We know that young witches usually start their training between the age of 7 and 10, but since witch society is awfully elitist, Olruggio would have been sent there as soon as his talent for magic became apparent.

Being ripped from his home at an extremely young age could explain his fear of being unwanted and left behind: he overworks himself as a way to feel useful and validated, is defensive about his own feelings, and he gets agitated and sometimes aggressive whenever Qifrey hides things from him.

20 years ago: arrival of Qifrey at the Great Hall at age 8. Olruggio befriends him soon afterwards. The both of them start sneaking out at night to chase Brimhats.

8 year old Qifrey was one fierce little thing, you have to give him that. His abuse at the hands of the Brimhats was brutal enough to break a grown man, but he picks himself up and goes right after them like “Alright jerks, you’ve got some explaining to do and I want my eyeball back!”.

Also it cracks me up that Olruggio was carrying this massive book in their flashback. Gotta love that his reaction to Qifrey’s “Let’s go chase some terrorists!” was “Sure, let me just pack my homework =>”.

Finally, there might be a slightly more selfish motivation for Olruggio’s fast friendship and devotion to Qifrey. Olruggio’s self-esteem lies in his ability to help people, so he would naturally be drawn to someone helpless. It’s unclear how much of Qifrey’s memory was missing: apparently he didn’t know about birthdays. How many other basic concepts was he missing? Did he know how to read? Between that, his lack of knowledge about magic and his injury, he was probably completely dependent on Olruggio at the beginning. Given Olruggio’s wish that they go back to “the good old times” when they were always together, I am wondering whether some hidden part of him misses being essential to someone. It’s well-intentioned, but not entirely healthy, especially if he is using Qifrey as a coping mechanism for his own insecurities.

14 years ago: Olruggio and Qifrey make a pledge of (betrothal) friendship, exchange tassels and attempt the Librarian test at age 14. It is their last adventure together, but Qifrey will continue his investigations on his own, to Olruggio’s disappointment and betrayal. Qifrey starts wearing his half-tinted glasses.

In the pledge flashback, they are wearing their old tassels, but they have swapped them by the time they undertake the third test. Also, when he remembers that pledge, Olruggio says that Qifrey’s investigation “should have ended at the Tower of Books”. The tower is the last likely place where Qifrey could have found answers about his past and a non-forbidden way of getting his eye back. Olruggio probably made him promise that he would stop his search afterwards.

Beldaruit says that he thought Qifrey had given up on his search after the third test, but Olruggio tells a slightly different story. Apparently he thought Qifrey “finally stopped causing trouble” after taking in apprentices, which means he was still behaving suspiciously right up until he became a teacher. Alaira also comments on Qifrey’s interest in the Brimhats in the first volume, so clearly his investigations were common knowledge among his friends, even as an adult.

Olruggio’s anger whenever the Brimhats are mentioned would then be caused not just by his own fear of forbidden magic, but by the reminder that Qifrey broke his promise to him, and refused to leave his past behind. Naturally, Olruggio doesn’t know about Qifrey’s change in circumstances: he is no longer looking to retrieve what he lost, but trying to stop an impending threat.

Qifrey’s discoveries in the Tower of Books also seem to have renewed his disgust towards his own scar: he starts wearing glasses shortly afterwards, even though his eyesight hasn’t yet started deteriorating.

14-5 years ago: in that interval, Coco’s father dies of illness. Olruggio becomes more and more famous for his magical items, and is given the title “Shining Torch” / “Master of Lights”. His glowstone paths become widely popular, and are installed around the castle near Coco’s mom. Both Qifrey and Olruggio pass the fourth test and complete their training.

At this stage, I really doubt that Qifrey intended to become a teacher. Whatever information he found at the Tower of Books convinced him he had to stop the Brimhats’ plan. He was probably planning to complete his training and then go straight on to his quest, not really expecting to return alive.

There are also hints that this was a strained period for Qifrey and Olruggio: Olruggio mentions that he would like them to confide in each other “just like old times”, which implies that they grew more distant after the Librarian test. I’m suspecting that Qifrey was trying to slowly remove himself from Olruggio’s life, hoping Olruggio would be so famous and beloved by the time they graduated that he would forget about Qifrey and barely notice his disappearance. Qifrey’s self-esteem isn’t the best y’all.

5 years ago: Coco receives the magic picture book from Iguin at age 7 at the Silver Night Festival. The Brimhats stop showing signs of activity. Qifrey takes on his first apprentice (probably Tetia, age 7). He interrupts his investigation of the Brimhats and creates the atelier. Olruggio becomes his Watchful Eye.

We don’t know exactly how old Coco was when she got her book, but her tiny chubby face makes me think she was 6-7. Alaira also tells us in the first volume that the incident with Coco’s mother is the first sign of Brimhat activity in five years. I am thinking that after Iguin gave away the book, he instructed the other Brimhats to keep a low profile until his scheme could hatch.

I also wonder whether Coco getting her book might coincide with Qifrey becoming a teacher and creating his atelier. Given that Qifrey is probably tied to Iguin’s schemes, how coincidental is it that Qifrey wandered into Coco’s village and set her fate in motion? Perhaps Iguin contrived for them to live in the same area so that they would meet eventually. Either he somehow influenced Qifrey’s choice of location for his atelier, or he selected Coco as his “child of hope” because of her relative proximity as well as her love for magic.    

7 years old is when we could expect Tetia to have passed the first test. For now we know little about her backstory, but we can guess a few things: she is enthusiastic and ambitious, but gets easily side-tracked by pet projects and struggles to stick to the curriculum. She craves positive feedback and is worried her spells and interests will be condemned as frivolous. It makes me think that she passed her first test early, but was then mistreated by her first teachers for being too childish.

We’ve seen that Qifrey has a compulsive tendency to adopt children in distress. It would fit his character if he became a teacher on impulse. Maybe he had to pass the fifth test in a rush to be allowed to keep Tetia by his side. This also brought Olruggio back into his life, as he was the only one willing to follow him away from the atelier as Watchful Eye.

The complicity between Tetia and Qifrey, and Tetia taking on the role of a big sister for both Riche and Coco, also make me think she was Qifrey’s first apprentice. Tetia is often shown teasing Qifrey, quoting both Qifrey and Olruggio, and imitating Qifrey’s teaching style: I can totally see them as a little family of three at some point in the past.  

4 years ago: Riche starts training under her brother’s master, a creepy asshole, at age 7.

We actually have a clear timestamp for that one in chapter 25, woohoo! Riche’s old teacher can eat a brick.

3-2 years ago: Qifrey and Olruggio learn about Riche’s mistreatment in her old atelier and promptly adopt her. Beldaruit takes on Ririfin as an apprentice. Qifrey’s eyesight starts deteriorating. He adds the light protection glyph to his glasses.

Before that time, Qifrey might have intended to put his quest on hold until after Tetia’s graduation, but now his impending blindness puts him on a time limit. He can’t do a lot about it however, since the Brimhats have been keeping a low profile for years and are not leaving him any clue.

It’s unclear how long Riche stayed at her old atelier, and whether she joined Qifrey before or after Agott. I’m hoping she made it out as soon as possible.

2 years ago: Agott passes the first test at age 10. She gets accused of stealing someone else’s spell, is rejected from her prestigious family’s apprenticeship, and joins Qifrey’s atelier.

Agott has been treated harshly by her family for not being enough of a genius. She mentions passing the first test at 10, the upper end of the normal age range. She was probably given a hard time for starting her apprenticeship so “late”, which explains why she is now adamant about passing the other tests as quickly as possible.

I wonder whether she felt ambivalent about joining Qifrey’s atelier at first. On the one hand, Qifrey was taught by the Sage of Education himself and is clearly very powerful. On the other hand, he has only a couple students and lives in a weird little school in the middle of nowhere, a big fall from grace compared to her prestigious upbringing. I wonder whether Qifrey went to find her after he heard she was the object of nasty rumours (he knows a thing or two about those), and Agott didn’t feel like she had other options.

0 year ago: Coco and Qifrey meet. Iguin goes “F***ing finally, I thought I’d have to watch that humdrum one-eyed twink bake potatoes for another five years. It’s dragon-slaying time now baby!!!”  

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Imagine # 687

1,834 - Words

Gif NOT mine. (Found on Pinterest.)

If this gif is yours please let me know, so I can give you credit.

Gif credit goes to - Unknown.

Year posted - 2020

Warnings - A little swearing.

Notes - None

----

"I'm telling you Charlie you're going to love her." Phil gushed for the millionth time. "So you say." Charlie muttered still doodling in his sketch book, within the prisons art room. "She's a brilliant artist, a local celebrity really." Phil smiled to himself, before his eyes shot to the opening door of the room. "Phil." (Y/n) smiled at the man awaiting her at the bottom of the stairs, her heels clicking noisily as she descended said stairs. "(Y/n) its so lovely to see you." Phil chirped while pulling her into a friendly hug. "I was looking over those drawings you sent me." (Y/n) grinned from ear to ear. "I can't wait to meet the man behind the pen." She added before handing the drawings back to Phil. "Of course of course, he's right here. Charlie mate this is (Y/n)." Phil ushered Charlie over who was sitting quietly observing the two. "We've been waiting here for a little while now, eager for your arrival." Phil added as Charlie approached. "So you're Charlie Bronson? I've heard so much about you, I must say you are a man of reputation." (Y/n) mused while shaking his hand. "Yeah that's me." Charlie sighed under his breath, sounding almost bored. "I've looked over some of your work, and its quite charming really." (Y/n) said as she pointed to the drawings in Phil's hands. "Your style actually reminds me of an uncle of mine, from my father's side. Ironically enough he also spent some time in prison years ago." She continued, her complements fueling Charlie's ego. "Every year I come here in search of an apprentice, sometimes they remain my apprentice for a few years, like my last apprentice did. Sadly however he got on the wrong side of a local here, and got himself killed." (Y/n) wet her lips allowing Charlie a moment to process her words. "Phil here suggested that I take you under my wing, if you're interested of course." She smiled softly. "I don't think the Gov will allow me the privilege." Charlie pointed out, knowing the man hatted him. "Well just between us, he's had quite the crush on me since I started doing this whole apprenticeship thing. I'm confident I can convince him by simply batting my lashes at him." (Y/n) winked with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Is that so?" Charlie smirked a little, finding her rather amusing. "But only if you're interested of course, I'd rather avoid the man if I can. Makes my skin crawl that one." She frowned a little in disgust at the thought of the man. "Alright, what dose this internship entail?" Charlie asked while leaning against the table to his right. "Well first off, I'll be teaching you how to hone your skills as an artist, and help you to find your true potential, to the best of my abilities. I would be visiting you daily, for however long I see fit. Maybe even if you get yourself in trouble, seeings how the old creep can't seem to say no to me." She shrugged a little at the last comment. "Alright I'm in." Charlie nodded his head once, before going back to his original seat. "Okay I'll go see what I can do about the Governor." (Y/n) waved goodbye to Phil before leaving the room. "See I knew you'd like her." Phil smiled while Charlie simply grunted at him.

----

The following day Charlie sat across from the Governor, in his little office. "I don't know how, but you've caught the interest of Miss (Y/n) (Y/l/n), and she wishes to take you as her new apprentice. I have granted her permission to due so, but I'm warning you now Charlie, if you so much as hurt a hair on her head, I'll have you locked in solitary for the rest of your stay here." The older man hissed, his threat only making Charlie smile. "What kind ov a man do you think I am, eh?" Charlie taunted, making the Governor roll his eyes. "I know exactly what kind of a man you are Charlie." The Governor sighed before waving him off. "She'll be here later today, and every day after until you mess up." He added as Charlie was being escorted out of his office.

----

(Y/n) did in fact come back, just a few hours later. Meeting with Charlie in his cell of all places. "Right let's get to it yeah?" She shrugged her bag off of her shoulder and placed it on the foot of his bed, where she rummaged through it a moment later. "Ah here we are." She smiled as she pulled out the new materials she had brought with her. "These are for you." She handed them to Charlie, who slowly looked over everything she gave him. "I'd like to watch you draw if that's alright, I want to observe your process, and techniques." (Y/n) explained, smiling when Charlie sat at his desk. "You can watch, just try not to talk to much. Phil gets real annoying after awhile." Charlie glanced up at her as he began settling everything up. "Of course." She bowed her head a little, respecting his wishes.

As Charlie drew (Y/n) peered over his shoulder, fascinated by his technique, and rather pleased with his natural skills. "How's that?" Charlie leaned back in his chair, looking up at (Y/n), who grinned at him. "It's fantastic, tell me what does this mean to you?" She asked while leaning in a little closer observing the finer details, unknowingly pressing her breasts against Charlie's shoulder. "What?" He exhaled through his nose noisily, almost stunned by the sudden contact. "What does this all mean to you? If anything at all." (Y/n) asked while pulling away so she could properly look at his face. "It's just some of the things I felt while at the asylum." He cleared his throat, having calmed his nerves when she pulled away from him. "Interesting." (Y/n) hummed before going back to her bag. "I want you to try something for me Charlie." She muttered as she unfolded the large piece of canvas paper, she had pulled from her bag. "I want you to try copying this drawing, but in your own style." She explained before using her chewing gum to stick the paper to the wall above his desk. "What is it exactly?" He asked eyeing the strange looking drawing before him. "I'm not entirely sure yet, I drew this yesterday after I left here, I got some inspiration." She tilted her head a little, looking at her work. "Get some inspiration from me did ya?" Charlie teased. "I did actually, while I drew this I replayed our conversation together, remembering the way you held yourself, your facial expressions, mood, all of it really... And this is the product of that." (Y/n) explained, once again fueling Charlie's ego. "Is it a good thing or a bad thing?" He asked while looking from her to the drawing, finding it almost hypnotizing. "Personally I believe it's a good thing, but I guess like most art, it is what you make of it as the viewer." She looked back to Charlie, who seemed pretty pleased with her answer. "Right, well this might take a little while." He stated while scooting his chair in. "Take however long you need." (Y/n) hummed softly while clasping her hands behind her back. "You're welcome to sit on the bed if ya like." Charlie added before picking up his pencil. "Thank you Charlie." (Y/n) smiled before delicately setting on the edge of the mattress, trying to avoid making to much noise.

----

For a little over two months now, (Y/n) has been working with Charlie. And it wasn't until today that he acted out, and got himself into trouble. But as she promised she convinced the Governor to allow her to still visit him. While Charlie sat in his cell, blood oozing a little from the gash on his head, he counted the seconds it took for (Y/n) to reach his cell. Her heels giving her away the second she stepped into his cellblock, clicking away as she approached. "I don't know why you bother." The guard opening Charlie's cell hissed at (Y/n), who in turn held her head up a little higher while glaring at the overweight man. "That's none of your concern." She spat back as the door opened, making Charlie smile the best he could with the muzzle they put on him.

"Christ." She muttered under her breath in surprise, completely stunned at the sight of him all bloody and bound. "Aye love." Charlie murmured the best he could, both blood and drool running down his chin. "What did they do to you?" She frowned before softly sitting on her knees across from him on the floor. "You'll dirty your dress." He almost frowned at the sight of his blood on the floor, as it began seeping into the soft fabric of her skirt. "I don't give a damn about the dress." She waved his comment off, more worried about him. "Besides you're more important to me than some old dress." She leaned forward dropping her voice so only Charlie could hear her. "I'm going to remove these wretched things, but you must remain quiet, otherwise we'll both be in trouble." She waited for Charlie to nod his head in agreement before reaching for the strap on the muzzle. "There." She sighed softly as she pulled the muzzle away from his face. "Alright could you turn for me?" She asked planning on removing the straight jacket. "Nah leave it I'm alright, besides if someone decides to barge in 'ere, you won't get in as much trouble for removing just the muzzle." Charlie pointed out making (Y/n) bite her lip softly. "Good point." She nodded her head agreeing with him.

"So tell me Charlie, what happened?" (Y/n) asked as she removed a handkerchief from her handbag, slowly wiping away some of the blood from his face. "One of the guards took away that drawing you hung on my wall, the one you gave me the first day we worked together, cunt tore it up while talking ill about you. I wasn't gonna stand for it, so I beat the fucker bloody." Charlie observed her face, watching her closely as she frowned at his words. "Those bastards can't just let things be can they, always gotta rattle the cage, and punish those that bite back." She murmured while cleaning the last of the blood away the best she could. "Don't worry. You ever get outta here, I'll give you as many drawings as you'd like, then no one can ever take them from you again." (Y/n) smiled softly at Charlie, who began mulling over her words. Did he want to get out? Or did he still wish to stay?

[withbloodiedfingertips]

an introduction to my characters: the protagonists

i decided that, for much needed context going forward, i’d introduce all of the protagonists (and their love interests, who are usually the dual protagonist of the novel) and the basic plots of all of my books so that you have a bit of an idea what to expect from this blog! i love all of these characters with my entire heart so if you ever have any questions about them, please feel free to ask! or if you want to know more about any of these books, just let me know! i’m gonna put all of the info under the cut just because i have a feeling this is going to be a bit of a long post, because i cannot shut up when it comes to my original characters, so i’m sorry in advance!

the resurrectionist:

summary:

moving away from home was supposed to make maisie’s life better.

she was supposed to fall in love, not get her heart broken by the only person who’d ever made her truly feel safe. she was supposed to make more friends, not actively hide from her coworkers unwanted attention in the backroom. she was supposed to be more than she was in high school, not wind up trapped in a shitty apartment with no hope of affording anything larger. she believes that she’s going to be stuck like this until she dies, wondering exactly what it is she’s sticking around for. 

that is, until she meets akira, who inexplicably takes her in as a friend. 

but is friendship really all he wants, or is it something more?

the characters:

maisie lovage:

i’d be lying if i said that i didn’t base maisie off of myself, in more ways than one. i always refer to her as essentially what i wish my future life could be like, if i had the courage to actually pursue it, though hers is a lot sadder than i always imagined mine to be. she’s a twenty two year old who is a huge fan of this japanese author - ayako uchida - and that’s pretty much the catalyst for her meeting with akira! maisie used to be much more of a dreamer when she was younger - she used to always imagine herself as a famous artist, showing her work in art galleries - but nowadays art’s more of a hobby she can barely bring herself to pursue anymore. she does sketch whenever things are slow at her job though, she’s a receptionist at a tattoo parlor. i think maisie’s different than me in a whole lot of ways, but at our cores we’re really similar. i don’t know. she’s just such a sweetheart there isn’t much i can say about her other than she’s grown far more cynical as she’s gotten older but still tries to be as nice as she can to others, though she snaps a lot easier at them if they manage to get on her nerves. 

akira uchida:

i’m going to try not to spoil much about his character, because i don’t know if you all want to know what the major plot twist of this book is yet or not, but i love akira with all of my heart. he’s such a broken character - his father abused both him and his mother, and viewed the latter as nothing more than his property. his mother actually is maisie’s favorite author, but he doesn’t have the heart to tell her that he’s her son and that she’s never going to be writing any more novels since she’s no longer alive. he’s twenty six years old and has some of the scariest icy blue eyes that maisie’s ever seen - his father’s eyes, which he hates more than anything. he’s tried to adjust his appearance from when he was younger as a means of escaping from his old life - akira uchida isn’t even his real name, it’s what his mother wanted to name him but never got the chance to. he’s tall and calculating, distant yet warms up almost immediately around maisie - though more because he loves teasing her for her naivety and how she still acts quite young at heart. i’m gonna leave it there because i think i’m going to spoil more about his character if i don’t but yeah! 

worst case scenario:

summary:

to be honest i don’t really have a great summary for this one so basically: lawrence is the son of one of the most powerful hero in the city that he and cullom live in, the latter who is the extremely poor son of a single mother who he barely sees, thanks to how often she works. they’ve been best friends for their entire lives, aspiring to fight as heroes and protect the citizens of their beloved city side by side, until one fateful day when they decide to break into lawrence’s father’s old hero equipment. because heroes in this world aren’t born or made, they’re bought with money. a fact that lawrence’s father makes abundantly clear to cullom, who still believed there was some way for someone like him to save others without having to spend ridiculous amount of money. when cullom runs out of lawrence’s place and asks him for comfort, the hero’s son merely replies that his father’s right and that he’s sorry. this causes cullom to basically go on such a downward spiral that, one day at the tender age of ten, he decides to run away from home. as he’s wandering around the rougher part of town, he sees a scuffle between a hero and a villain in an alleyway, and decides to pick up the villain’s gun and shoot the hero straight in the back of the head to save him. the villain thanks him and basically adopts him into the little family of villains they have living at this one bar, and the rest is basically history! cullom’s being trained up to be a sniper while lawrence is being trained up to inherit his father’s legacy. a lot of angsty conflict ensues for obvious reasons. 

the characters:

cullom cade:

this boy is my son. he’s one of my absolute favorite characters to write about because he’s, as most of my characters tend to be, so insanely broken in so many ways and just breaks further as the story progresses. and it’s that shattering that makes him sharper, darkens his heart to be only a distant shadow of what it once was. what i really focus on with him is this insanely pure, precious child’s descent into being far more morally grey than he originally was, but realizing with that, that the heroes aren’t actually the good guys. they’re insanely corrupt, which is what the villains are fighting back against. it’s painful to write about a character who still wants to be good but doesn’t really have the option to and grows pretty much complacent and, eventually, understanding of why he can’t be morally good but i think it’s an important story to tell. another important thing to mention is that cullom has pretty much an obsession with making lawrence pay - though there’s more feelings beneath that, as he realizes that he might’ve been more than a bit in love with him back when they were younger. i should add that cullom does grow up over the course of this novel. he’s not a ten year old forever. they don’t actually let a ten year old go out on missions. a fair bit of this book focuses on his actual training and him screwing up his first mission and all that. he also adopts a child at some point for very sad reasons i won’t reveal but it’s very cute. i love this bastard so much. 

lawrence who i have yet to give a last name:

i feel so bad for him too. he genuinely doesn’t understand that the heroes are corrupt - and if he does, he chooses to turn the other cheek because he doesn’t want to believe it - until a few encounters with cullom make him realize that maybe he doesn’t have a real understanding of how the world is. he’s does, however, believe that he’s completely in the morally right - that he’s always been in the morally right, but his story is really coming to terms with how much of a villain he truly is. and also coming to terms with his feelings for cullom, because he too doesn’t really understand why he still hesitates to kill him. these boys are both idiots, basically, but i love them. lawrence is a super fun character to write about just because he’s kind of awkward and distant from being raised to be professional his entire life. he’s basically always been a young businessman, and the only time he could really be a kid when he was younger was around cullom. it’s a part of the reason why his father never wanted them to be friends and they had to hang out in secret often times because lawrence still do desperately wanted to be his friend. they’re both good boys, even if they’ve done bad things. i don’t know. i love them. 

my unnamed plague romance novel:

summary:

the day the last of roisin’s family died of the bubonic plague, she made a vow to herself - that she’d do everything in her power to learn how to save anyone else fallen ill to this disease she somehow miraculously survived.

and maybe she could. if she weren’t an irish girl living in england, without even a scrap of hope for scraping up an apprenticeship. so she does what she can to ease the suffering of those on the verge of death. giving them water to wet their chapped lips. holding their frail bodies in her arms until their very last breath. singing the children lullabies so they can rest as easy as possible without their parents there to comfort them. until one day, she notices a band of thieves robbing valuables off of corpses. outraged, she goes to confront them, and falls prey to the teasing charms of none other than elliott leighton - son of the best doctor in all of london. but, for all of his medical training, he makes one fatal mistake that he can’t come back from.

revealing to roisin that his father doesn’t know about this side job of his. 

and thus a deal is made - roisin will keep quiet about it in exchange for training beneath elliott, who’s only a few years away from inheriting his father’s business.

but will she prove too weak under the pressure of being unable to save everyone?

the characters:

roisin quinn:

i! love! roisin! so! much! she is such a delight to write and has possibly the best banter ever with elliott because of how unafraid she is to call him out for his bullshit, yet she’s still so inanely motherly and caring. it’s really the best combination ever and i just love how strong she is. i haven’t really gotten to write much of her but she’s adorable on so many levels. plus she has freckles! which are precious! i don’t know man, roisin’s just great. there’s really not much more i can say about her but if you wanna know more, just ask!

elliott leighton:

this bastard. he’s such a bastard. that’s really all i can describe him as, a bastard. an insanely suave, flirty bastard who isn’t afraid to flaunt his talents. he’s really the perfect character to be with roisin just because he can be super selfish and he does genuinely think she’s troublesome at first, but grows to care for her overtime because he sees how much she cares and how she truly does deserve to be in the medical field and vows to help her succeed, however he can. i mean what did you really expect from a character who steals valuables off of corpses? he’s not very openly affectionate - rarely admits at all that he is being affectionate, and gets all flustered when he’s called out for it, which roisin does whenever she gets the chance - but when he is... it’s the softest thing ever. he does think very highly of himself though. probably a bit too highly - he’s a hard teacher on roisin, and always praises his abilities whenever she slips up - but like i said, he’s really not a bad guy. just takes some getting used to i guess. 

[writersrealmbts]

Con Amore: Part 6

Bulletproof Melody Sequel

Description: Con Amore– A directive to a musician to perform a selected passage of a composition tenderly, with affectionate emotion, or in a loving manner; an instruction to the player of an instrument meaning ‘with love’ or ‘lovingly’. Three years with all seven of your loves, three years of relative peace. But now everything is threatened as darkness surges from the horizon.

Originally Posted: 08/07/2019

Tags: Superheroes, Ot7

Fluff/Angst: 2,823 words

A/N: Let’s get into it.

Your nose wrinkled as you entered the cafeteria. “Oh Lord.” “Back away slowly,” Namjoon instructed. “Maybe they won’t notice us and we can escape to where we can get food that doesn’t smell like…what does that smell like?” “Feet and tomato sauce,” Jin answered. “I can transport out and get us edible food,” Taehyung whispered. “Good plan.” “Nightingale!” An evil voice called out. You glared at the young man in his stupid temple travel robes looking like a cross between a wizard, a monk, and a farmer. Now everyone was looking at you. He ran up and bowed, straightening quickly. “High Priestess Cohen has sent me to represent…um…to represent…did I do something wrong, Arch—” He spluttered and spit out the mouthful of water and plant matter that had filled his mouth. You gestured for them to stop, stepping in close. “I believe one of the most intensive training programs at the temple is that of discretion, is it not?” He blinked in surprise at you, then looked a little sheepish and nodded. “Yes, miss.” “We should speak in private if you are to be the liaison between us and the temple. Does the dean know of your arrival?” “Yes, miss.” “And you’ve eaten?” “Not yet, miss.” “Follow me.” You pivoted and headed back to the elevator, feeling the curious gazes of at least two hundred students on your back. It was a good way out of eating whatever minimally edible food you found in there and frankly the smell was making you feel sick. Again. “So—” “Not in the elevator. You’re new, aren’t you?” “Sorry, yes, ma’am.” “What’s your name?” “Heuning Kai, miss.” “And you are a…” It wasn’t that you actually needed him to explain his powers, but you figured it would make him uncomfortable if he knew that you could sense his powers. Besides, sometimes it was nice to keep a power hidden away for emergency use. You certainly kept yours hidden. “Acolyte of day, messenger of the high priests and priestesses,” He replied quickly, dipping his head and making a gesture of the temple in the center of his chest. He looked at you with a little apprehension. “What does that mean?” Jimin asked, idly leaning against you. “It means he’s a light super training in the ways of the temple, and while he’s training he’s their messenger. Like an apprenticeship. You learn, but you also work to earn your keep. The temple is structured and run for supers who believe their powers give them too much…well, power. They stay at the temple to protect themselves and each other from those who would use their powers for ill. Instead they treat the sick and injured and provide sanctuary for those in need. When they do use their powers, it is after much prayer and meditation. They’re essentially pacifists that will fight if provoked in just the right way.” You explained, stumbling as the elevator made you dizzy. “I’m going to have to start using the stairs.” “Not a good idea,” Seokjin said. “You’d never get anywhere.” “I know,” You muttered poutily. “But the elevator makes me dizzy.” Jungkook wrapped his arms around you. “I’m sorry.” You sighed and leaned into his embrace until the doors opened. “Right. Let’s use one of these other rooms to set up for battle plans.” Yoongi picked a room and went in. Once inside, you hummed to make sure no one could see or listen in, then turned to Heuning Kai. “It’s safe to speak now.” “The high priestess of light sends word that our patient that was asking for you has begun recovering, and but hasn’t been able to clarify his messages from before. She also wished for me to tell you that you were right about the organization that was rising back to power, and that the temple is preparing for battle should you have need of them. I am to be at your disposal.” “Anything else?” He frowned slightly, almost indignant, but seeming to remember something before. “She said that you need to seal the doors that very moment.” “I take it that was her exact wording, she said “that very moment”?” He nodded. You frowned, trying to figure out what that could mean. There were literal doors, figurative doors, the doors to your archives, the doors to the school, the doors of transportation…there were an almost endless number of doors that could be referencing to and apparently she had decided to be vague. “Nothing else?” “I believe that was everything, miss.” “Alright. Let’s go over the ground rules while we’re at the conservatory. Do not discuss any private information about yourself, us, or the mission with anyone except me and these men. That includes me being an archivist, any relationship things you see with us…did you give them your true name?” He looked up in surprise. “They didn’t ask for it.” “Then don’t. Do you have a code name at the temple?” He nodded, but it was hesitant. “One you don’t particularly like?” “I’m called orangeade.” “Yikes. He wins,” Hoseok muttered. “Okay…well, the dean will probably just call you Acolyte…but is there some other code name that you’d maybe like to use while here?” “Well, I’ve also been called wings…” He shrugged, looking uncertain and a little out of his depth. “Wings?” Jimin asked. He reached behind him and pulled a piece of fabric. Wings spread out behind him, the white feathers connected with metal, gears working smoothly to allow them to work properly. Not quite a power, but explained that weird sense you got from him about a second power. You knew the handiwork. He likely had wings he was born with, and was refitted as a child to have these, then rescued and taken to the temple for safety. You looked at his face, seeing how uncomfortable it made him to even be called wings. “I could call you Hermes, Euros, or Zephyros.” He lit up a bit. “Hermes was the messenger god. Euros was the god of the east wind and autumn, thought to bring rain and warmth. Zephyros was the god of the west wind and spring. If those don’t sound like good names, then I can find others. And it’s only temporary.” You gave him a gentle smile, knowing you could come off as abrupt. “Just to keep you safe. This place is just as dangerous as the enemy we’re facing.” “I like Zephyros,” He said softly, smiling a little. “Okay.” You gave him a gentle smile, then turned to Taehyung. “But seriously, real food.” He grinned. “What do you want?” “Hmm, I think I want a burger,” you said. “Maybe some fries. And fruit. Strawberries. And blueberries.” “Alright, I’ll do my best,” He came over and collected a quick kiss. You gripped his sleeve. “Be careful.” He met your eyes and nodded. “I’ll take Mannaz-ah.” “You will?” Jimin looked a little indignant. “Yup.” Taehyung grabbed a paper. “Now taking orders.” The boys started giving him instructions for food, and you gestured for Heuning Kai to give Taehyung an order as well. He looked nervous to do so, so you pulled him over to where Taehyung was writing down Namjoon’s order. “Do you want a burger?” You asked after a moment. He nodded. Taehyung flashed a smile. “Come over here, I have a menu pulled up for the place I’m going to.” You gave the young boy an encouraging smile, then headed over to Jimin. “Keep your head on the swivel. I don’t care how ridiculous you might look, keep an eye on everything.” He nodded and nuzzled your cheek. “We’ll probably have to spread out tonight. You were too warm this morning. We’ll have to go back to our old routine of one or two of us sleeping with you at a time. Laguz-hyung’s neck is hurting him and Sowilo-hyung’s leg is hurting him.” “And how’s your back and neck?” You asked, gently rubbing the muscle connecting his neck and shoulder. “Mmm, Jera-hyung gave me a massage earlier this morning.” He melted into your touch anyway. “Good. You’re right. Probably only manage one of you in a bed with me, though. I’ll let you have the first night.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed a few kisses to his lips. “I’ll need your special brand of cuddles tonight.” He smiled. “Cuddles, yeah. That’s what we’ll be doing.” You rolled your eyes. “We’ll do whatever we both have energy for.” “Mmhmm, or I could just please you,” He murmured, stepping closer and pressing a kiss to your lips. You shook your head and lightly punched his shoulder. “Raidho is ready to leave.” “Try not to worry about us,” He whispered, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’ve got the check-in app going with Tiwaz-hyung.” You kissed him again, then stepped away from him so that Tae could step in and transport them out. Namjoon led Heuning Kai out of the room, talking about getting him settled in the same wing as us. You looked back at Jungkook. “Come with me to the archives?” He smiled and nodded. “Don’t let her work too hard,” Hoseok said, quickly kissing you as he pulled a sleepy-looking Yoongi toward the door. “Hey, if I give you guys a list can you lay out a plan to rescue some kids from some of the homes, make sure the organizations can’t get to them?” You pulled out a paper. “Yeah, we’ll make a plan then when everyone is back we’ll execute it,” He plopped a kiss on your hair. “We’ll also set this room up as a meeting room. I just have to tuck this one in for a nap.” You giggled and stepped in to kiss Yoongi. “Sleep well, dearest.” He visibly blushed, and looked away. You grinned and wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head on his shoulder and kissing his neck. “Try to dream of me?” “Yeah, whatever,” He murmured, a little bit of his cute, flustered lisp coming out. You kissed his neck again, seeing his ears turning red. You squeezed him again, then released, letting your hands trail across his body. He caught your hand, giving it a light squeeze before letting you retreat to Jungkook. He was still looking away from you, but you knew he was watching your every move. “Come on,” Hoseok chuckled, tugging Yoongi out of the room. You hummed and pulled Jungkook through the door and into one of the archives. You had almost finished organizing the artifacts in your own way so that you could find whatever you need, but there was still one room full of artifacts that you still needed to find a home for. You relaxed once you’d sealed the entrance again. Jungkook was watching you with worry in his eyes. “You alright?” “Tired. Worried. A little nauseous. I wish I could just curl up with all of you and sleep. Not worry about another opponent.” You nuzzled into his chest as he wrapped around you lovingly and protectively. He just held you tightly. “I wish that too. I wish we could all just bask in the happiness of a baby. We’ve wanted one for so long. Been trying since Christmas. For it to come now…” “Yeah,” You whispered. “All things in due season, though…right?” “If you mean that things happen when they’re supposed to, then I guess so. Like fate.” You nodded. “Fate.” You ran a hand over your stomach, chewing on your lip. “I just…the thought of being a mom hasn’t really hit me yet, I guess. I’m used to being free and doing almost exactly as I please when I please. Do you think I’ll be a good mom? And what’s it going to be like with the baby having essentially seven fathers?” “We’ll figure everything out together. You’ll be a great mom. You’re already so good at taking care of us,” He reassured softly, smiling at you lovingly. “And when you get all big and your ankles and back hurt, I’ll carry you wherever you like.” You groaned. “Oh, I’m gonna get fat. I was just feeling like I was in excellent shape too.” “You look beautiful no matter what.” He kissed you chastely. “Now, what’s the task?” “Keeping me from doing too much while I find some artifacts that can help us that aren’t dangerous if taken by others. Then I want to seal the archives so that only I can get into them. I don’t know quite what to make of Nurya’s warning, but I do know that if I can, I should make sure these never fall into the wrong hands.” “So you’re preparing early for the occasion of your death.” He sounded upset. You shook your head. “No. I meant it when I said I’d stay away from the fighting and the danger. I just want to make sure no one gets in uninvited. Which is why I’m also making sure that if I do open it, it’s also because I’m carrying this,” You explained as you picked up an amulet with a tiger and rooster depicted on it. “This was collected by my five-times-great-grandfather, from Jeju Island. The amulet of Munjeon, a god of doors.” You held it out to Jungkook. He took it, looking it over, running a finger over the inlaid rubies and sapphires. “It looks like that peace symbol, the black and white one.” “Yin and Yang, which represents balance, not peace. Yes, it is.” You grabbed a special case from the side and started carefully picking out artifacts that could be useful but wouldn’t break the world. “Keep it safe for me. If you don’t feel like I’m me, don’t give it to me.” He watched you for a while, then slowly closed his fist over the amulet. “Okay.” He caught your waist. “But what if I’m the one that’s taken.” “It’s also a protection charm.” You kissed his cheek. “And I’ll make sure there are fail-safes. I just need to sit down with some sheet music and headphones while you guys make plans for fighting and investigation.” He nodded. “They’re probably back with food, now.” You grabbed a few more artifacts from other archives, then pulled him back into the room. Taehyung and Jimin were putting chairs at the tables, which had been rearranged into a huge meeting table that could seat all of you plus some extras. You smiled as the smell of burgers wafted to you. “That smells fantastic. Thank you, boys.” They jumped and Jimin went down behind a table in surprise. Tae recovered first. “What’s the suitcase for?” “Tools,” You explained, kissing his cheek, then going to make sure Jimin hadn’t hurt himself. “Any trouble?” “Nope, we were perfectly safe.” Jimin hugged onto you. “We have a problem,” Hoseok said, coming back in with the others, including Huening Kai and the dean. “What problem?” Taehyung asked. The dean put a device down and Yoongi projected the screen onto the wall for everyone to see. “The old church which was used by a private organization has been burning for six hours, there are no reports of anyone being in the church when the fire began, and firefighters are still working hard to put out the flames, which have extended to throughout the entire building.” The news reporter kept talking about when the fire started and all that, but your gaze was on the symbol on the burning door. “Beit mikdash lekavot,” The dean read from the simple sign. “Hope Temple.” Heuning Kai looked devastated. “That’s where the entrance to the temple of light was,” You confirmed. “Boys, we need to rescue the kids from those homes I listed. Now.” “Right. We’ll eat as we go,” Jin quickly grabbed his burger from the bag. “I’ll have some transportation students ready to assist you all.” “Huening Kai, why don’t you help me today?” You said gently, resting a hand on his shoulder. He slowly nodded and let you guide him to a seat. You gently rubbed his back. “I’m sure they’re okay.” He nodded again, but his gaze was fixed on the video that Yoongi was still projecting, obviously waiting for more details. “Wilo, you should stick with Jin,” You suggested gently. Yoongi glanced at you, then Heuning Kai, before nodding and ending the projection. The dean turned to you. “I would like to speak to you later. When it’s convenient.” You weren’t sure what that would be about, but you figured it probably wasn’t good. You nodded anyway and sat down with the laptop to monitor the separate missions of your boys, giving Heuning Kai the second and telling him what to do based on the plan Namjoon, Yoongi, and Hoseok had come up with. You just hoped it wouldn’t be too late for the children.

~~~~~

Part 5.   Part 7.

Masterlist.  ~  Series Masterpost.  

[vivypotter]

Vivy’s Harry Potter Fic Recs

I’ve had a load of people ask me for my favourite tomarry fics, so I thought I’d compile a fic rec! This will probably be updated as I think of things. However, I have a lot of favourite fics which aren’t Tomarry, so I thought I’d add a few other pairings as well. I think I’ll put up a few recs of other fandoms as well when I get ‘round to it, like Hannibal or the Hobbit (I have weird reading habits okay?) It’ll help me find them too xD.

Tom Riddle or Voldemort/Harry Potter

Consuming Shadows by Child_OTKW (WIP)

On the night of the attack, Lily managed to escape with her infant son, but at the cost of her husband’s life. Distraught and distrusting of her friends, she fled to France with Harry, to raise him away from the corruption in Britain and the rising influence of the Dark Lord. She trains him to the best of her abilities, shaping him into a dangerous, intelligent and powerful wizard.

But when Britain re-establishes the Triwizard Tournament, and Harry is forced to return to his once-home, he finds himself questioning whether he really wants to kill the Dark Lord. Voldemort finds an unexpected challenge in the child, and as his intrigue and amusement grows, so too does the desire to possess the spark in those defiant green eyes.

I feel this is genuinely one of the best Tomarry fanfics maybe ever written, and I’m sure you’ve probably read it since it’s so popular - but I thought I’d recommend it anyway! It’s not finished, but there’s enough of it to really sink your teeth into and action is properly going down right now. Harry is such an interesting character and his cat and mouse dynamic with Voldemort is so entertaining. I anxiously wait for every update!

Set the Sails (and don’t look back) by Terrific Lunacy (Complete)

1724. All Harry wanted to do was to cross the Atlantic and start his apprenticeship under one of the most renowned physicians. Tom Riddle is convinced everything floating in the seven seas belongs to him. That includes ship-wrecked, green-eyed youths. Especially if they tell him to fuck off.

This is a fic that’s really stuck with me. It’s complete (a miracle in the tomarry fandom) and there’s a fun back-and-forth between Voldemort and Harry. Our goodhearted Harry is a doctor! And for some reason, I’ve been really into Pirate AUs recently.

A Thousand Paths Among The Stars by haplesshippo (Complete)

Harry Potter, newly appointed Captain of the Marauder and son of the famous Captain James Potter, was falling apart at the seams. His crew didn’t respect him, he was lost in the empty expanse of space, nightmares plagued his sleep, and his Commander deserved the Captain position more than he did. Good thing multiple attempts on his life and a vicious warlord after his head was all it took to turn it all around.

Alternatively, that space fic in which Harry Potter almost dies too many times, Tom Riddle slowly becomes the most smitten fool on the ship, and the rest of the crew are all just a bunch of assholes with popcorn watching the show. And exploding ships, don't forget the exploding ships.

Another pirate AU, kind of! But this one is in space! And it’s actually more of a Star Trek AU. Okay, it’s not really a pirate AU but I wanted to keep the theme going. This is such a freaking good fic- the relationship between Tom and Harry is very unusual (not as combative as the last two fics) and there are some nice twists, as well as combination of HP lore and what I assume is Star Trek (I’ve never seen it okay). And the extended cast is excellent. I fully recommend!

The Dragon's Mate by Strange_Soulmates (Complete fics but WIP series)

Harry Potter has recently escaped from his dragon-guarded tower. So has his fellow prisoner - the dragon who was enchanted to guard him. Harry's friend is missing, however, and so he sets off to assure himself of his well-being before he finds the person responsible for imprisoning them both. Accompanied by a stranger with a familiar name, Harry finds himself with more questions than answers as he slowly learns about the customs of dragons and the history of the dragon he befriended, the fearsome Voldemort.

I really love pretty much all of Strange_Soulmates’ fics, but this is definitely my favourite (and maybe the only complete one? Don’t quote me on that.) The characters are so well done, and although I love the first fic a little more than the second, they are both excellent reads! Dragons and wizards? Yes, please!

Everything's Fine in the Beast Division by Merrinpippy (Complete)

Harry's lifelong ambition is to become an auror, but as his knowledge of Dangerous Beasts is somewhat lacking, Newt Scamander agrees to take him on as an apprentice. Contrary to the Weasley twins' predictions that Harry would die of boredom, Harry finds his time at the Ministry very interesting, and befriending the very attractive Tom Riddle doesn't hurt at all- in fact, quite the opposite.

This is such a fantastic fanfiction, and a crossover with Fantastic Beasts (a franchise I can’t stand but that’s a conversation for another time). It manages to be fluffy without going OOC which is difficult for tomarry fics, and the supporting cast are adorable!

To Be Set Free by Merrinpippy

Harry Potter, raised and abused by the Dursleys ever since his parents died, lives in the cupboard under the stairs. He has no friends or family who love him and his life is dull until one day a letter arrives arrives for him, written in green ink, that promises freedom. Sounds familiar, right?

King Thomas Riddle's illness combined with his political paranoia pushes him to arrange three royal balls, after which his son, Prince Tom Riddle, must choose a guest to marry, thereby securing the kingdom's future and solidifying their strength in the eyes of their allies/enemies. Tom is convinced that he will be able to defy his father and choose no-one, or at least he is until at the first ball he meets an attractive stranger with dark hair and glasses who won't tell anyone his name...

This is also excellent, and I love a good Fairytale AU. Merrinpippy has some really good stuff. I love all of it!

As Clichéd as Clichés Go by thecrimsonmonarch (One-shot)

Harry Potter wasn't known for his social skills, mainly because they were practically non-existent.

This is a bit random but very fun. Harry is a fucking dork. That’s all there is to say. A thoroughly amusing Lawyer AU.

Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus by The Carnivorous Muffin (WIP)

As the unwitting personification of Death, reality exists to Lily through the veil of a backstage curtain, a transient stage show performed by actors who take their roles only too seriously. But as the Girl-Who-Lived, Lily's role to play is the most important of all, and come hell or high water play it she will, regardless of how awful Wizard Lenin seems to think she is at her job.

This is a still-uploading fanfic and one of my faves. It’s not for everyone- it’s a fem!Harry and she’s so different that she’s really an OC to be honest, and the story is slightly complicated. This is certainly not a fic to go for if you want IC characters. But I really love the writing and the ideas and it’s basically a new, fascinating universe. And even if they’re not IC, I love the characters all dearly. The Carnivorous Muffin is certainly an extremely talented writer- all of her stuff is excellent.

Little Bits by lordmarvoloriddle

Inspired by Cinderella. Only there's no prince and surely no one is singing about their feelings and Harry's life could be a lot worse than having three step-brothers and a father who didn't liked him. He's going to be proven right.

This is such a bloody creepy fic and so so good. The ending is a complete twist and you should definitely read it!

Drarry

Draw a Line from Your Heart to Mine by CreateImagineWrite (Complete)

Being Harry Potter's best friend isn't always fame and beating off raving fans. It's also the anxiety of hearing your best mate's been cursed by another Dark Lord, or love potioned by some crazy woman. Or having his boyfriend you knew nothing about turn up on the Burrow's doorstep.

This is a bit of a random inclusion, but I was just reading this and it is SO GOOD. Perhaps a bit cliched in places, but Ron Weasley’s inner monologue makes up for it.

Turn by Saras_Girl

One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.

This is an also an excellent fic that I read bloody ages ago and has apparently stuck with me. There’s this whole Harry going into an alternate dimension where he’s married to Draco Malfoy plot, but the really beautiful thing is Harry exploring his dissatisfaction with his life- through carpentry! I know it sounds like a crack fic, but it’s not- it’s a gorgeously written fic.

Away Childish Things by lettered

Harry gets de-aged. Malfoy has to help him.

This does the ‘Harry was abused’ revelation so well and really interestingly explores both Harry and Draco’s childhood. The overarching plot is also excellently done, which can’t always be said for character-focused fics!

Jily

#Jily by Chie (Chierafied) (One-shot)

Twitter seemed awash with the hashtag Jily. Lily blinked at in confusion, until she realised it was one of those silly couple monikers people had bestowed on her and Potter. …Though there was a small dissenting crowd following a tweet from Potter’s bandmate Sirius Black: Jily? Hah! More like LAMES.

This is such a fucking cute one-shot. I love social media AUs (if you find any, send them my way), so I loved this!

The Rise and Fall of the Extraordinary Jilysanschilly: Including Excerpts of their Best Collected Works by elanev91 (One-shot)

James Potter and Lily Evans are both wildly successful YouTubers and Sirius cannot believe that people ship them enough to write erotic fanfiction about them. 

You might be picking up on my love of modern Jily AUs. This is so cute, Sirius is weirdly IC as he gets caught up in a smut addiction and James and Lily don’t hate each other from the beginning so that’s fun. A very sweet YouTuber AU.

Hit the Like Button by elixirsoflife (One-shot)

YouTube star James Potter is living it up at uni: filming videos, getting drunk and professing his love for aspiring singer Lily Evans to anyone who'll listen.

It’s another modern AU, but this time, Lily is a famous singer! This was fucking adorable, enough said.

The White Album by cgner (Complete)

James poses as an advice charm in Lily's diary. He's really got to start thinking through his shenanigans.

This is the strangest mix of angst and fluff that I’ve ever read, but it really, really works. It’s also kind of a crossover, as it’s written by the co-author of:

Haggis from Algernon by Rude Gus (Complete)

The fic about nothing.

Everything written by both Rude Gus and cgner is brilliant (not a surprise as they’re almost the same person), but Haggis really is a classic. And check out their Bachelor AU fic! It’s surprisingly brilliant.

Gen and Misc

Kid by Anonymous (Completed)

A Potion's "accident" turns Harry into an eight year old. Draco Malfoy begins planning his kidnapping/conversion to the Dark Side. But Harry's a passive-aggressive, revenge-obsessed little bastard. Maybe Draco will wait on that whole Dark Lord thing… 

Such a cute fic! A really nice character study of Draco and cute kid Harry is always a bonus. I’m not usually a Draco Malfoy fan, but this is a great fic.

Harveste by kyaru-chan (Complete fics but WIP series - probs abandoned)

He's done it. He's just five years old, but he's finally done it. The Dursleys are gone. And now he's with a new family who seems just as twisted as he is. How strange.

This is a really weird fic series. It’s actually an Addams family AU? Harry kills the Dursleys and gets adopted by the Addams family, and then there’s a separate fic for each HP book up to Half-Blood Prince, where I think they stopped. It definitely still worth a read though. Harry is certainly not IC but it’s a fascinating combination of the two universes with all the quirky Addams family humour. It’s certainly a bit of a crack fic to read when you’re down.

Sarcasm and Slytherin by sunmoonandstars (Complete stories but WIP series)

After ten years of misery with the Dursleys, Harry Potter learns that he has magic. Except, in this story, it's not a surprise-the only surprise is that there are others like him. Including his twin brother, Julian Potter, the savior of the Wizarding world.

This isn't the Harry you think you know.

This is WBWL kind of story (although we don’t know if Harry actually is the BWL yet. Harry is a really interesting character and his relationship with his family- especially Jules - is very well developed and nuanced. Harry’s friendships and the authors interpretation of Slytherin house is also a new twist on old tropes- it feels very fresh! I’m eagerly waiting for updates!

So there it is. Just some of my HP faves. I’m considering doing one for Hannibal, Yuri on Ice, The Hobbit, Labyrinth (my tastes are so weird) etc, so let me know if you’re interested!

[freddiedearfriend]

Plus One - A Night at the Fandom “Secret Santa” Gift!

This is my gift for @brianmays-badgers​ for @dtfrogertaylor​‘s A Night at the Fandom event! This story ended up quite different from what I set out to do, but I’m kind of into it. It’s less “enemies to lovers” like I intended and more “Reader is a badass who doesn’t take shit from men.” I hope you like it! 🐛💖

Plus One

Gwilym Lee x F!Reader

Word count: 4.3k

Rating: Explicit

A/N: No offense to any Caitlins out there! Also, this is actually the first fic I’ve ever completed (let alone posted online) and I have no beta reader so I’d love to hear your honest opinion, criticisms and all! Like for real, I know I have a lot of room for improvement so I’d love to hear what you liked and what you think could be better. 

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It had been a while since you felt so relaxed. School was just as busy as always, but you had been feeling especially tightly wound lately, unable to shake the tension that seemed to permeate your entire being.

But now, for the first time in weeks, you felt like yourself again. Dancing always seemed to have that effect on you. Some god-awful remix of an Ariana Grande song was playing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You had just enough alcohol in your system to make you feel relaxed, loose, but not out of control. You didn’t remember exactly how you had arrived at that point, but that didn’t really bother you.

You were dancing with someone, but it was dark, and everything felt a little blurry in a pleasant way, and you couldn’t see who it was. You could certainly feel him, though, your bodies pressed impossibly close together as you moved to the music. Large, strong hands held your hips, which you swayed back and forth to the beat of the song. You sensed the pulsing presence of the other clubgoers around you, but the warmth radiating from your partner overpowered the usual stuffiness of such a crowd.

You sighed, tossing your hair back and running your hands up your partner’s torso, feeling the muscles underneath his (admittedly slightly sweaty) shirt. You brushed his chest with your fingers before sliding your hands up to grasp his shoulders.

Your partner leant down, whispering in your ear. His hot breath, smelling slightly of beer, made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. It was oddly pleasant.

“This isn’t real.”

You looked up, slightly confused. All of a sudden, the club’s strobe lighting was too bright and disorienting, and you became acutely aware of the blood pulsing throughout your body. You still couldn’t see your partner’s face.

“What?” you shouted over the music, your own voice echoing loudly in your ears.

Your partner gave a throaty chuckle, and you slowed your dancing a bit, feeling as if you had just realized something important. You couldn’t conclude what it was, though; the alcohol was causing your brain to lag and keeping you from finishing the thought.

This time you saw as the shadowy figure of your partner, who stood well over a foot taller than you, hunched over considerably to speak to you again.

“You really think this would ever happen? Can’t you see who I am?”

You suddenly felt too sweaty, standing still in the middle of the dance floor as you tried to focus on the man’s face. Your eyes worked to adjust to the dimness being constantly punctuated by obnoxiously bright flashes of light, and eventually you were able to make contact with a pair of bright blue eyes staring down at you.

“There she is. Hello, Y/N.”

You startled awake, frantically fishing around in the sheets for your buzzing phone. You found it and snoozed the alarm, grimacing at the bright screen and the ungodly hour it displayed. “Fucking hell,” you groaned, turning over and pulling the covers over your head. You cursed your past self for thinking early-morning training for basketball would be good idea, a way to get more involved at school. Now that the time had come, you decided you really couldn’t care less about team building.

When your alarm went off for the second time a few minutes later, you took a resigned breath and dragged yourself out of bed.

This wasn’t the first time you had dreamt about Gwilym Lee. In fact, the dreams had been increasing in frequency lately, making you more and more irritated and tense as the weeks went on. As if you needed any more reason to hate him. He had ruined your life.

Okay, so maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. Your life was still going on relatively smoothly in most respects. But for the last few weeks you really had felt quite on edge, and Gwil was to blame.

It all sounded rather cliché when you thought about it. He was the freakishly beautiful British cousin of one of your classmates, visiting America for an acting apprenticeship and breaking the hearts of nearly everyone he encountered in his tragically short time there. Of course, he just had to get all chummy with your friend Joe, meaning you had to be around his pretentious ass constantly. (You were not going to let the presence of this interloper stop you from hanging out with one of your best friends.) And, the cherry on top of this disgusting shepherd’s pie, it was rumored that he was hooking up with Caitlin, a former friend of yours with whom you weren’t on the best of terms. None of this was helped by the fact that you weren’t exactly known for keeping your feelings to yourself, so everyone involved was aware of your varying levels of annoyance with both parties. The entire situation seemed like it could have been the plot of a bad romantic drama or young adult novel.

You just wished all of this could have waited until afteryour birthday. Nineteen isn’t usually one of the big birthday milestones, but you had been deathly ill last year on your eighteenth and had been planning to make up for it this year—and make up for it big time.

With the help of your parents and a distant yet generous great-aunt, you were able to rent out a barcade downtown for the evening. The place was a bar and was meant for adults, but also had laser tag, a bouncy obstacle course, and a wide variety of arcade games. When open to the public it was twenty-one and up, but they allowed minors at reserved events. You had sent out the invitations before Gwil showed up and stuck his stupid, chiseled jawline in your business, but you invited pretty much everyone he knew and it would be odd—and frankly, pretty rude—if he just wasn’t allowed to come. So he would be there.

All you could do was plan to keep your distance and hope that things went off without a hitch tonight.

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Despite every cell in your body crying out for you to go back to sleep, you made it through the early morning training as well all of your classes. After your last class, you went back to your dorm room and took a quick power nap before it was time to get ready for your party.

Since your party would involve some rather physical activities, you decided to forgo a particularly elaborate or high-maintenance look, instead putting on minimal makeup, your favorite pair of black jeans with a nice blouse, and a simple half-up, half-down hairstyle. You put in a pair of silver hoop earrings and some black velvet flats and admired yourself in the mirror. You looked damn good.

Your friend Lucy picked you up in her car and you rode to the barcade together. You had about half an hour to get things set up before other guests started arriving, and you puttered around pouring snacks into bowls and hanging streamers.

You were standing and chatting with Lucy when people began to show up.

“Wassup, Y/N!” Joe, always one to make an entrance, greeted you loudly. You quickly set down your paper cup of lemonade before Joe gave you a huge hug, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around.

“Looking incredible as always! Feel old yet?”

You laughed and half-heartedly adjusted your hair and top, pretending to be annoyed. “Please, Joe, I’m a year younger than you.”

Joe gave Lucy a quick hug in greeting before turning back to you. “Yes, and I’m telling you from experience, it really starts to hit you around nineteen. My back is killing me as we speak!” he said rather cheerfully for someone who was allegedly in pain.

“Whatever you say, old man.”

“Well hey now, you know what they say about respecting your elders.”

“Yeah, right. You already convinced me to let Gwil come. Don’t push your luck. You’re gonna keep that Laurence Olivier wannabe in check tonight, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joe replied, straightening up and giving you a salute. “No impromptu soliloquies will be performed tonight if I can help it.”

“Oh god, I would die,” you laughed and rolled your eyes. “Although if he did that then I would have a great excuse to kick him out.”

Joe gave a goofy grin but then spoke with a more serious voice. “Y/N, I know you’re tired of hearing it, but he’s really not that bad. When you get him alone he’s much less…”

“…of a huge douchebag?”

“Well, for lack of a better word, yes. In fact, I really think he acts so weird around you because he—”

“Oh god, Joe, don’t even try to give me the ‘boys pull your hair because they like you’ thing. That’s so second grade.”

“Okay, okay,” Joe put his hands up in defense. “All I’m saying is…he does talk about you a lot. And it’s not all bad.”

You gave a dramatic sigh, wanting to end the conversation. The truth was, the fact that Gwil talked about you when you weren’t around piqued your interest, but you didn’t want Joe to see that. “Oh great, that makes me feel much better. Whatever. I don’t want to spend any more energy talking about him. Let’s get this party started.”

“Great. That’s the spirit. Now, can I interest you in a round of Whack-A-Mole?”

“Oh, absolutely. You’re on.”

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Soon enough the party was in full swing, and you were making rounds, checking in with as many people as possible to make sure everyone was having a good time. You had just joined in a heated debate over which of the university’s physics professors was the best when you felt someone tap on your shoulder.

“Y/N, can I borrow you for a moment?” Joe was behind you looking almost sheepish, an expression you were not used to seeing on your normally boisterous and confident friend. You excused yourself from the conversation and walked a few feet away to talk with Joe in private.

“Okay, please do not freak out right now, but I have to tell you something,” Joe said carefully, his arms held in front of him, fists balled up nervously.

“Uh, okay, but you’re making it sound like I’m definitely gonna freak out right now,” you replied, looking at him with your brow furrowed in confusion and concern.

“No, it’s, well it’s not really that big of a deal, it’s just…Gwil brought Caitlin.” Joe muttered quickly, cringing as he tried to gauge your reaction.

Without thinking, you whipped your head around, scanning the room for either of the offending parties. You looked back at Joe, plastering on a fake smile so as to not appear as surprised and angry as you actual were.

“Of course he fucking did. Bastard. Where are they?”

“I swear he never mentioned it to me, when I told him he could come I never mentioned bringing a plus one. I’m so sorry, Y/N, I should have been clearer. I didn’t think—"

He looked so guilty and sad, and you just couldn’t be mad at that face. You sighed. “It’s okay, Joe, it’s not your fault. You just assumed he would have common sense and ask before bringing a guest, but they must have different party etiquette across the pond, huh?”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, I’m gonna make it up to you. I’ll take you for Chinese, just the two of us.”

“That does sound pretty nice. We haven’t been to Lucky Kitchen in a while.”

“Great, then it’s a plan. But hey, just ignore those two and enjoy your party, okay? You deserve this.”

“Thanks, Joe. And thanks for telling me, at least I’m prepared to run into either of them now.”

“That’s my girl,” Joe said, patting you firmly on the shoulder. “Now get back to your adoring fans.”

You chuckled and flipped your hair over your shoulder dramatically, turning back to the conversation you were having.

But you found it a little hard to focus on the discussion now. You were on edge, desperately trying to keep eye contact with the people you were talking to rather than checking your peripheral vision for your unwanted guests. Eventually the group you were chatting with decided to start a game of laser tag, and you enthusiastically joined in, letting the thoughts of Gwil and Caitlin’s presence run off your back.

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

Several intense games of laser tag and a Dance Dance Revolution tournament later, you were warm and happy and still mostly distracted from the presence of your two uninvited guests.

Then it was time for cake. The lights were dimmed, and your friends and family began to sing as the cake was brought out, sparklers in place of candles. You gasped, covering your mouth with your hands. It was one of the most unique and beautiful cakes you had ever seen.

You had planned on just getting a few sheet cakes from Costco, since they were cheap and actually not half bad, but your parents insisted that they had it covered and surprised you with a huge custom cake from a bakery in town. It was four tiers, alternating chocolate and vanilla, and the entire thing was iced with a mint chocolate chip buttercream frosting and covered in white fondant roses.

You made a mental note to write that great-aunt a thank you card.

After everyone had gotten at least one helping of cake, they began to return to the games or sit in small groups in conversation. You stood near the table where the cake was, taking everything in. You were definitely started to lose steam now, but you mostly just felt pleasantly sleepy as you gazed out over the room. You had had a pretty perfect night so far. Then a nearby conversation brought you out of your daze.

“Like, who wants to play fucking Whack-A-Mole at an adult’s birthday party? I’m surprised this many people actually showed up.”

You recognized that voice immediately. Caitlin. An old friend-turned-frenemy-turned-full-on enemy, a voice you just couldn’t seem to get away from ever since elementary school.

“And she was actually, like, crying over the cake. Like are you kidding? Get a grip.”

You were too shocked to even be angry at first. You pulled out your phone surreptitiously, opening your conversation with Joe and sending him a text.

Omg, Caitlin and Gwil are talking shit

Almost immediately, you received the read receipt and then Joe’s response.

Not if I can help it

You stared at your phone, confused. Joe was nowhere to be seen, let alone do anything about this. You were typing out a response suggesting as much when you heard his voice—but not directed at you.

“Hey Gwil. Caitlin. How’s it goin’?” Joe was sweaty and attempting to catch his breath, clearly having just come from the bouncy obstacle course. He took a swig from a water bottle as he walked up to them.

Oh, no,you thought. What are you doing, Joe?

“Ugh, fine,” Caitlin replied to Joe. “Not really understanding the whole ‘adults playing arcade games’ thing but whatever. At least the cake was good.”

Gwil snorted. “Yeah, would help if I had something to drink, too.” God, he was so fucking arrogant. You couldn’t stand it.

“I have no idea what you guys are talking about,” Joe said cheerfully, “I’m having more fun than I have in long time. Nothing like some friendly competition to take your mind off midterms coming up. Come on, go through the obstacle course with me. Just once. We can race!”

Gwil seemed to perk up a little bit at this suggestion, but Caitlin quickly shot it down.

“Huh, yeah, thanks but no thanks. I’d like to keep at least a little of my dignity tonight.”

Joe frowned at her. “If you don’t like any of this stuff, why’d you even come?”

Oh god. Now he was really going to start something.

“Duh, free food. Free cake. Chance to make fun of Y/N. And I just couldn’t let this one go all alone,” Caitlin giggled, bumping Gwil with her shoulder. Gwil didn’t seem to share quite the same level of mirth, however, and you followed his nervous gaze to Joe, whose eyes were quickly narrowing.

“First of all, Gwil here was never told he could invite anyone. He wasn’t technically invited himself. Second of all, Y/N is my friend. And if you’re going to talk shit about my friend and her bomb-ass party, I’d rather you do it somewhere else.”

You started wracking your brain for ways you could infiltrate this conversation, get it to end without revealing that you had been eavesdropping. You texted Joe, telling him to call off the dogs, but he either didn’t feel his phone vibrate in his pocket or he was choosing to ignore it. You didn’t realize you were staring until Gwil’s eyes met your own and he smirked, prompting Caitlin and Joe to look over at you.

“Well, speak of the devil,” Gwil crooned, his eyes locked on you as you dragged yourself over to where they were, attempting to look as if you had just casually walked by.

“Y/N, hiiii!” Caitlin said sweetly, a distinct change from the sardonic tone she was using just seconds before. “Oh my god, what a great party. That cake was just to die for.”

“Oh, I’m soglad you’re enjoying it,” you replied through gritted teeth. “Isn’t this place just genius? It’s been so long since I’ve played arcade games like this.”

“Yes, well, it is kind of like Chuck-E-Cheese for adults, isn’t it?” Caitlin’s voice seemed to raise in pitch with every word.

Your eyes narrowed slightly, fake smile still plastered on. “Yeah! It’s so nice to still be able to relax and have fun every once in a while, isn’t it?”

Gwil and Joe were following your conversation like a tennis match, sensing a rising tension in your seemingly friendly exchange.

“For sure. Thanks somuch for the invite,”—don’t remember sending you one,you thought— “but unfortunately Gwil and I have to get going now, don’t we babe?”

Babe? So they were using pet names now? You wanted to vomit.

For once in his life, Gwil seemed hesitant. “I, uh—”

Joe cut in. “Aw, that’s too bad. Well, it was great to see you guys! See you for frisbee tomorrow, Gwil?”

“Uh, yeah, but—”

“Well, it was great to see you, Y/N. Happy birthday!” Caitlin practically squealed as she walked away, pulling Gwil by the arm.

Joe waved at them and began to pull you in the opposite direction, but you caught Gwil glancing back at you as they walked toward the door.

“God, Y/N, I’m so sorry you had to hear that. Fuck, I’m a terrible friend, aren’t I? I insisted on letting Gwil come and he just had to go and bring her, and then they have the nerve to say that shit right in front of you? I’m gonna kill him—”

“Joe. Stop. Breathe. It’s not your fault. If we’re going to blame anyone, it’s gonna be Gwil, ok? He knows how I feel about Caitlin and was still selfish enough to bring her along. That’s fucked up, but you didn’t know he would do it.”

“I know, but—”

“Joe, let’s just forget about this for now, okay? I’m gonna enjoy the rest of my night, not spend it being mad at Gwil.”

Joe took a deep breath. “You’re right. God, you’re too good for us, you know that?”

“Oh, I’m very aware.”

Joe laughed. “Okay, okay, your majesty. Now may I request a rematch of air hockey?”

“Hell yes. You are going down, Mazzello.”

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

After you had beat Joe savagely at several raucous games of air hockey, you snuck away for a breather. You were leaning against the bar, casually scrolling through Tumblr, when someone disrupted your thoughts.

“Y/N? Can we talk?” A British accent. Of course. What was he still doing here?

“I’m not particularly interested in anything you have to say.” You kept your eyes glued to your phone, but you weren’t really looking at it anymore, mainly wanting to appear indifferent to Gwil’s reappearance.

“I know. I just want to tell you that I’m sorry I brought Caitlin tonight. I…didn’t mean to start anything, I just…”

Any attempt to ignore Gwil went out the window. You put your phone in your pocket and looked him in the eye. Fuck, he has beautiful eyes. “You just what? You just thought it would be a great idea to bring the person I dislike the most to a party you weren’t even technically invited to?”

“Well—”

“Oh yes, please. I’d love to hear whatever convoluted justification you’ve come up with. Let’s have it.”

“I know it’s stupid and immature. I’m kicking myself for thinking it could ever work. But…well, I thought you might be…jealous. I thought maybe you would, I don’t know, be angry enough at her to want me for yourself. Or at the very least pay attention to me.”

You stared in disbelief, mouth ajar.

“God, I know, it sounds absolutely mad when I say it out loud. Look, I’ll drop it now, I just hope you understand that I’m really sorry.”

“You…are interested in me.”

“Um, yes.”

“Like, you like me.”

“Quite a lot, actually.”

“And when being condescending and arrogant didn’t work, you thought you would use my ex-friend to piss me off, and I would end up wanting to be with you to get back at her.”

Gwil was silent.

“Where is Caitlin, anyway? I thought you left with her.”

“She did leave, but I told her I wanted to stay. She got mad. She left without me.”

You stared at him for a minute.

“Jesus…you’re even more of an idiot than I thought you were.”

Then you grabbed him by the hand and dragged him into the back room behind the bar.

“Wha—where are we—”

You shut the door behind you and backed him up against it.

“Shut up and kiss me already.”

“Wait, you—you want—”

“God, yes, you stupid, beautiful piece of shit.”

Gwil seemed to suddenly snap out of his confusion and into make-out mode, putting one hand on the small of your back and one on the back of your head, pulling you up onto your tiptoes as he leaned down to kiss you. You put your hands on either side of his face, feeling the stubble on his cheeks. His lips were warm, and you could faintly smell his cologne.

After a long few minutes of making out, you slid your hands down his chest and began to undo his belt. Gwil pulled back and put his hands over yours.

“Wait, you—are you sure about this?”

You looked up at him.

“Oh, I am absolutely sure. I know exactly what I want to do with you.”

Gwil shuddered and took his hands away from yours, reaching up into your shirt to undo your bra as you finished undoing his belt.

You moaned into Gwil’s mouth as your lips met again, his thumbs gently circling over your nipples.

You jerked Gwil’s pants and underwear down over his hips and pulled out his dick.

“Aaahhh…oh god,” he groaned, clearly trying to be quiet.

“That’s good, huh? I’ll make sure you feel so good,” you purred.

Gwil breathed heavily as you worked his cock, fumbling to get into your pants as well. Once he succeeded, he stuck his hand in, gasping at what he felt there.

“So wet, oh god.”

“Mmm, yes. Because of you. You made me this wet.”

Gwil clumsily crashed his lips back into yours as he began to rub your clitoris with his fingers. The other hand remained on your breast, brushing over your sensitive, aroused nipple.

You began to rut into his hand, a little embarrassed at how close you were already but wanting to come quickly. You were sure your guests were having a great time, but you wouldn’t want anyone concerned about your absence.

“Faster, Gwil, please.”

He began to move his hand faster, but you slowed yours down. “Mmmph, Y/N. More,” he said gruffly.

“No. Not yet. Make me—ah!—make me come first.”

Gwil’s hand practically vibrated off his body as he moved his hand firmly against your clit. You buried your face in his chest as you came, thrusting erratically against his hand.

“God…yes…so good…” you gasped in between breaths, riding out your orgasm until you couldn’t take any more, pulling Gwil’s hand out of your pants. You looked up at him with hooded eyes and guided his hand toward your face.

“Now, let me taste it.”

Gwil stared with wide eyes and put his fingers, dripping with your come, up to your mouth. You sucked his fingers clean, finally speeding up the hand you had around his cock.

“Oh Jesus, that’s hot.”

You smiled coyly, watching as Gwil’s face and neck began to flush a deep pink.

“I’m—I’m getting—close—”

You took your hand away suddenly.

“Now. You’re going to finish the job.”

Gwil stared at you dumbly.

“You heard me. You’re going to finish yourself off alone, in the utility room of a barcade, and walk out of this party alone. And then maybe you’ll remember this moment before you decide being an asshole to another woman is going to make her want to be with you.”

Gwil shuffled to the side awkwardly as you opened the door, staring at you in disbelief as you strolled back out to the bar. With a contented smile on your face, you headed to the bathroom to freshen up before enjoying the rest of your birthday party.

END

[calleo-bricriu]

You've been doing a lot of FB verse stuff lately so: Those cards want to gossip about anything or anyone tonight?

It’s early and I’m sober; a better question might be do I want to gossip about anything or anyone this morning.

I don’t, as an aside, but if you’ll scurry away if I do...

Give me a couple of minutes to get rid of the sober part.

Right, well, either the deck’s not in the mood either or it’s just describing me. Can it be gossip if they’re talking to me about me? Wouldn’t that just be me telling you something anyone else would consider mild to moderately embarrassing?

So, it probably is me I’ll be gossiping about tonight and while that ace is one of the few generally positive swords it points itself at things like new careers, new starts, new environments which sounds essentially like I’ll be getting a slightly different job and moving or moving and getting a slightly different job, it isn’t clear which it is and I don’t particularly want to do either. Also as to do with clarity, focus, and a lot of intensity so maybe I’m just moving and keeping the same job in a different place.

Not a fan of all these swords, I have to say.

No, never mind, that sword is okay. Five swords are apparently terrible and bad tempered but six are calm--ugh, travel again--what I'll never fully understand is why this card indicates both calmness and healing as well as the calm before a storm. Those are two distinctly and markedly different types of calm.

It's not very calming at all, nor does it point toward anything approaching stability.

Given the last two--well, hm, the first two equal six, maybe that's what it meant; I, the bad tempered and unpleasant five will be hooking up with an ace in the reasonably near future and that's either going to make things all nice again or make things all temporarily nice again before something qualifying as a storm happens.

Wonderful.

Maybe it'll clarify.

Hm. Well, someone is going to get what they want and since I'm that five, I get to be the one stuck at a crossroads so whoever the lucky future pain in my neck is, they'll be getting what they want with whatever option it is that I choose.

I really hope I don't have to travel for this.

We've gone from repeating swords to repeating pentacles now which is perfectly fine as those tend to not always come off like they're gleefully reporting on upcoming terrible things that will be happening to you.

Anyway, this one--it--apprenticeships, studying, collaboration--first of all, I'm nearly fifty-eight, who in the actual hell would I ever end up apprenticing under and for what?

It must be all those work hard and get on with other people at work and you'll be rewarded and recognised as a dedicated, committed, detailed, successful employee and that had better come along with a pay rise because if they want me to be all of those things and not get paid extra to put on a good show of also being cheerful and well rested, whoever tries to implement that has clearly never met me.

Better not push that pay issue as we're back to swords again.

Oh, no, not quite that, I think it's describing what a garbled mess of a person whoever that new employer is because this one can represent a lot of completely opposite things like fear, anxiety and stress but also rest, relaxation, and peace.

So whoever this is looks to be a little prone to wild and sudden mood swings. I say whoever this is on account of me not being that way so we're not talking directly to me about me anymore, it's shifted its focus to the hot mess this other person is.

This particular queen doesn't sound at all like it's also describing that hot mess of a four there so we appear to now be jumping around again. Whoever this third person is they're witty, intelligent, candid, protective, quirky and a lot repressed.

Sounds like a hot mess queen.

Fair enough, that's what my sword filled five of a self tends to attract anyway.

Moving on again, she looks about as done with this conversation as I've felt since the beginning!  Anyway, more creativity, desirability, turning into a niffler in the face of being offered an opportunity to learn More Things, and unattainability.

Hm, so either I'm unattainable, the first hot mess is unattainable, the second hot mess is unattainable, or all three of us are OR it's an indicator that if I try to attain both neither one will be attainable and just repeat that for the various combinations. Typically, unattainable things are only that way if your expectations are complete nonsense.

...huh, this one is definitely @directoryandle . That can't be good, especially if we're gossiping about me because that's bound to mean I'm going to either do something or someone that's going to make his life or job difficult or at least a little bit annoying.

If I take this one literally, he's going to be getting some solitude that--enough with the swords already!--military and law enforcement look like they're going to tell him to just deal with it as it's not rational for them to deal with something I've done that's made the Director's life mildly irritating.

So, he'll have a decision to make on account of being less than pleased with probably still what I'm allegedly going to start doing this year.

And, we get no more details on that because this one's swung back to me and apparently just wanted to scold me for whatever's going on with me and the two hot messes up there, it's making the Director think that I really will be the cause of his last few dark hairs going silver instead of the fact that he’s almost 140 being the root cause for a minute.

Back to Gossiping About Calleo with your host, Calleo.

On the upside, and possibly to spite Director Yandle somehow, whatever's going on it looks like I click with the hot mess ace/four--which, I've just realised does come out to five swords. Huh, twice now one or more cards have linked back to the five like that--and the hot mess queen.

A lot of clicking via good connections & compatibility.

Good thing these two hot messes are completely different in terms of personality as I can manage both of those personalities at the same time which is why I get to be the five. It's only polite to meet others where they're at in terms of energy.

Good. More swords. Of course. Upheaval, absence, unhappiness, loss, conflict, trauma, severe misunderstandings, division, betrayal--hm.

And I'll be switching jobs--back? Which will leave me as exhausted as this conversation but hey, at least whatever's going on up until the time I drag myself back to the Ministry using the power of pure spite (or strength of will, persistence, and perseverence).

This must be long term, as in over the next several years long term because there is no possible way I'd have the energy to get through all of that in the next few months.

Hopefully the deck listens to my 'wrap it up'.

Reminder to not take the easy road when making major decisions and it'll all be fine, which is oddly ominous somehow. The way this card doesn't normally describe people who were previously described as swords makes me think it's just a nicer, additional description of the hot mess queen.

Here's the thing, though: There isn't just one interpretation of this. It could be showing me that IF I make decisions that are easier and will click with that hot mess ace/four that it's going to cause unnecessary conflict for other people as well as myself with someone getting significantly hurt.

It could also just be describing the various people who will be peripherally involved to whatever ill-advised thing I'm going to fall face first into.

Or, it could describe, in a general sense, what I'm going to end up doing, where I'll temporarily be, and where I'll wind up in the end.

The last one seems more likely, considering I like to think I know myself well enough to know that anywhere I'd go that takes me away from where I am would only ever be done if I knew it would only be temporary and, once the temporary new thing finally falls over, apart, or does whatever it does that results in me no longer being there, I'll end up back here to pick right back up where I left off with the hot mess queen.

Deck was just scolding me about whatever I do making Director Yandle's life difficult, I guess.

Probably means I can also look forward to doing a lot of Divination transcription whenever I roll from my new, temporary job back to my old, permanent job again.

Serves him right, he knows I don't like to travel and would only go if forced, which means he'd be the one to tell me to do it so he'd deserve having his life become more difficult .

[dear--charlie]

Dear Charlie,

Tomorrow I am going to fly home. There was nobody here today. A was busy. I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t do anything. I had wanted to go buy presents but there is no space left in my suitcase. I mean…space yes…but the weight is already on limit. I finished packing my suitcase. I called my mom. We didn’t get along. She said we’d probably be annoyed when we lived together again because she and dad had had their own life for the time I was gone and so did I. She made some hurtful comments. I don’t want to go back. I’m looking forward to seeing A on New Years but until I see her, I have to be at home for 7 days. Also..I won’t have a room in the student allocations because they don’t want to pay for it if I only stay 3 months and have a 4 week interruption for my interneship, where I’ll live at home. This means I will live with them until September 2019. Have a 2 hour car drive every morning, which makes 4 hours of car every day. There are no buses. The parking is expensive. So is the gas. But anyway. I understand their point. A room is expensive. I just don’t know if all the gaz and parking I’m gonna pay won’t be the equivalent of the rent costs. My parents and I, especially my mom and I…we don’t work out anymore (my dad and me never really did). I love them. But I need my distance. My mom judging what I eat, what I do, when I’m on the phone, when I read or watch TV or who I talk to, is simply something I can’t take anymore. It was good here. I was alone. My mental health was the same degree of fucked up than it is at home. But at least I was out of the closet. At home, not even my close(s)t friends know (ha ha ha got the pun?). Charlie..I don’t want this life anymore. I don’t want to be different. All I even wanted was to fit in but somehow I never did. Oh well, and me meeting James was…weird. I was mad because my flatmates had promised me to clean their mess before leaving. But..surprise..they didn’t. So I was a little late. 3 minutes. But still. He had been waiting. We went upstairs of this café and had our tea. It was awkward. I tried to keep the conversation going and whenever I didn’t, he started looking at me with THAT look. I told him about A. I mentioned her 4 times. But that didn’t seem to bother him much. Maybe because I said “ma copine” and not “ma blonde” like they call girlfriends here. He might have thought of her as “a friend” not “the girlfriend”. After an hour I said I had to go home and clean. So I did. We said bye. It was weird. He wanted to hug me but didn’t dare so I just turned around and went away. I got home. And he texted me saying that if I was too annoyed by the cleaning, he could come and help. I didn’t open the message and after I was done cleaning, I told him that I was done now, “but thanks”. Then I went to sleep. At 1 in the morning he texted me this long ass message where he basically said that if I need help or “something” on Sunday (tomorrow), I could tell him. And if I wanted “one last dance” he could also come. And you know what? I was sad that nobody cared about me staying here alone or bothered to really say by… So..I said yes. Now tomorrow, you see, he’ll come help me with the luggage in the staircase and maybe offer one last dance. I’m greatful. He could have become a good friend if I’d met him earlier. Sad actually. I’m so numb. I feel like crying but I don’t know why. I’m not sad or happy. I’m just nothing. Numb and very very VERY cynical. I just don’t want to…exist anymore, you know? So on 24th we usually see my grandma (it’s her birthday) and the rest of my mom’s family. Now..the family is weird. My obese aunt doesn’t work because of “health issues” (which basically means because she’s overweight and always says she’s ill even though she isn’t.) My cousin: one year younger than me. Quit school. Never worked. Doesn’t find(want) an apprenticeship. Weird girlfriend. My other cousin: 24 (I think): quit school. Works approximately once a year for 2 weeks and either leaves the job or is fired. Weird girlfriend. They broke up. Now: girlfriend. Who has a kid AND is pregnant again (not from my cousin). And then my other cousin 27 (I think?). She’s okay. She and her husband never stay long on Christmas dinner (because they have to see her husband’s family too, aka, because they enjoy those meetings as much as I do, which is zero). All of them.. are envious about my “success” and the fact that we have more money than them (because my parents actually work and don’t live on the government’s expenses) (they are so envious that we open our presents at home and never take them to open them with the rest of the family. And then we say that we didn’t get each other presents this year. Since we started doing that, things are much easier). Last Christmas (🎵 I gave you my heart but the very next day, you gave it away 🎵 , sorry, I tried to cheer myself up with Christmas music today, didn’t work. Anyway. Last Christmas,) my 24 year old cousin said I “had it easy”. That I “didn’t do shit but still had good grades”. I said I’d “worked my ass off” to get a diploma, to make it through the tough test to enter university and that, so far, I hadn’t had any time off since the beginning of the year and that whereas he would go home the day after that day and do nothing, I’d go home to my books and study for my exams. He said, “anyway, uni is easy. You don’t need to brag about it” (which I did not. I’d just listed a fact because he’d pissed me off. But then I did brag). I said, “well, you know what? At least I worked hard, and at least, I GO to uni.” Pretty needless to say that you could cut through the tension in the room and that we left as soon as dinner was over. Okay..so then there is my grandma. I love her. She halfway raised me. But she changed so much that I don’t recognise her anymore. She is under the influence of my aunt (who basically spends every day there and uses my grandma) and it doesn’t do her any good. My aunt met this guy and had my cousin. Then she had my other cousin. With the same guy. They split. She was pregnant. She met another guy. She claimed my third cousin was from him. The only person in the family to actually NOT know who his dad is, is my cousin himself. Anyway. They split. Now this year, my aunt met a really weird guy my mom knows from childhood. They are “so in love”, and……..are gonna marry. In summer. After knowing each other for like 9 months? Yea..sorry for degrading them. I’m just listing facts. I wished you could hear the way this letter sounds in my head. Emotionless, quick paced, sarcastic, cynical and with a lot of emphasis on some words. Words that I’d write in cursive but I don’t know how to do thaz, so I write some of them in capitals. On 24th I’ll land at midday. My mom told my grandma I’d be tired and we wouldn’t come. So Christmas-tradition adios. Am I sad? Not really? It’s just weird to not spend it with them. But I don’t really care. So whatever. 25th? We never really do anything. Usually on 26th we see my dad’s grandparents (why not on 25th aka on ACTUAL Christmas? Well because my grandma wants to give us “a day to digest the food from 24th”). Now..one of my dad’s brothers died from an overdose. The other one, a junkie, lives on the street. I don’t know either of them. They have kids. The dead one probably has kids all over the country. Apparently he was a real rabbit when it came to women. And like a rabbit, he didn’t protect himself the way he should have. The difference between my “uncle” and a rabbit is that a rabbit doesn’t do drugs and doesn’t know protection exists (well actually there are no rabbit condoms, so he can’t know about the existence of something that doesn’t actually exist. His owners will castrate the rabbit if they don’t want any more rabbits. I don’t think my uncle would have let anybody castrate him. So that’s that.) The other “uncle” has a kid who has a kid and no boyfriend. She never talked to my grandparents. Not once. Except for last year, when this kid (actually woman) appeared out of nothing and asked my granny for money, who didn’t give it to her. Now..my granny, you see, always says dad is her only child and I am their only grandchild. Which sad but I get her reasoning. My family is fucked up. I don’t know how my parents turned out so well. They are educated. They graduated. My mom went to uni and my dad went through many exams so that he basically also has a degree. They work. They have me. I’m not a bad child. I always studied. My grades were good. I never got into trouble (if you don’t count that one time where I wanted to buy juice and I put into my pocket until we went to paye but unfortunately forgot to take it out of my pocket and actually pay it, found out at home and made my mom drive all the way back to the store because I couldn’t live witht the thought of having stolen something, even if it was by accident. I was 4). I go to university. I speak 5 languages. I’ve got my shit together…if it weren’t for the mental illness that nobody knows about. It’s funny though. My dad’s mom and my dad have depression. Last time on the phone, I was tired of always hiding how I feel so I just didn’t hide it and was openly lethargic. And… my mom said “now stop it. You sound like your grandmother”. Great. She doesn’t get the link. Anyway…it’s not as if it mattered. As if this time of the year wasn’t already bad enough, this afternoon I wanted to order sushi but they didn’t accept my card. Then I wanted to order chinese but they didn’t deliver. So I went for take out. But the shop was closed. Then walked though snow to have lunch which wasn’t exactly the definition of delicious (all of that because my flatmates didn’t leave me any food when they left and I didn’t want to buy a whol package of something because it would be a waste). The… I realised that I’d give the driver of the bus who’s coming to pick me up, my old phone number (I don’t know why). So I was waiting for a confirmation of the schedule for when he’d come to pick me up when I realised he didn’t have any means to reach me because I’d accidentally given him the wrong number. So I contacted the headquarters and tried to fix the problem. It worked. I now know my driver will be there at 12:30. Great. I’m just really realy really cynical today. I’m sorry.. I’m also sorry that this letter was a mess and that now you know far too much about my family. But well…why not? Right? Anway. Have a nice Christmas Love always, Lena. 22.12.2018, 19:59 P.S. have you ever seen the movie “it’s kind of a funny story”? If yes, you can imagine the tone of this letter being similar to the narration of the movie in the first half.

[brightingales]

Tough day at work and my brain is too fried for fic right now, but I wanted to put together some “Harry as James’s paralegal” headcanons together for @parryglasspools  I love this au...

Harry first starts going to work with James because he’s climbing the walls with boredom. He can’t decide if he wants to go back to uni and James thinks that getting some experience in a different work environment will help Harry decide whether he actually needs to get a degree or not

They go in on the one day of the week (!) when James’s boss is not in their big London office but is instead in their Liverpool one. He’s surprised and a bit perturbed to see Harry there, but the young man quickly informs him that James’s caseload has him on the edge of burnout (which is true) and that the firm can’t afford to lose their best lawyer to stress-related illnesses

James protests that he has never once referred to himself as the firm’s “best lawyer”

Everyone in the entire building knows that’s a lie

Harry is, like, really good at filling. He sorts out their system in two days (Sami and James never could work well together and as a result there isn’t a single complete piece of paperwork to be found anywhere in James’s office)

Harry persuades James to go out and pick them up some fancy pastries for breakfast and when he returns he finds that his desk has been magically re-organised, his appointment book has been filled out with precise detail, and his in-tray has everything he needs for the next week of business in it ready for him to grab as soon as he needs it

James nearly cries at the beauty of it. He honestly thinks it’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for him

So, the next time he sees Mr Boss Man he emphasises what a great help Harry has been and wouldn’t it be nice if we could give back to the community and take on some apprentice paralegals especially people who have perhaps been on the wrong side of the law through no fault of their own and for a moment James nearly outright asks him to just give Harry a job on the spot but then he realises that it’s important for Harry to a) have something independent of James and b) something that he earned both by and for himself

He suggests to Harry that he has a natural talent for the work and that if he enjoys it he should consider both the new opportunity at James’s firm and ones at others

James always thought he would hate living and working and being with someone all the time, but he genuinely misses Harry if he’s gone for more than an hour

Like, physical, ‘ache in my chest’ misses him 

So, he would very much like it if Harry got this apprenticeship

Harry applies, James suggests the panel do a blind review on the CVs (for EQUALITY but also so that no one will think that Harry got the job through nepotism) and removes himself from the review board because he can’t trust himself to not try to influence everyone in Harry’s favour

When Harry realises that James has done all this for him he falls in love with him all over again- because it would be so easy for James to manipulate the situation and get what he wants (i.e. Harry working for him) but at every opportunity he has done the opposite and made sure that Harry has had the chance to do something by his own merit. And it’s so freeing… Harry had no idea being loved could feel like this.

They make plans for Harry to make other applications, or maybe start a law degree if he doesn’t get the job. Those plans are quickly proved to be redundant.

[yvaquietdays]

idealising the past and dreaming about the future

Last week, after I made the blog public, I received some pretty beautiful messages. Most of them were from folks who had been in the exact same position as me, whether living with depression or anxiety, or simply finding it tough battling through life’s disappointments. It was incredibly comforting knowing what I believed when I wrote that last post was so resonant; we’re all going through the same bullshit.

But a friend in particular, his name is Mat. He commented publicly on my post with some words that got me thinking. Imma share this here:

If I was arrested for any crime at all it would be for idealising my past self. That and eating too many biscuits. Who I was, who I thought I was. I laughed more, I cared less, I subscribed to nobody else’s version of me. But then I got depressed and worried all the time, and I lost that part of myself. The happy-go-lucky, ball of energy, motivated, determined young woman, gone. As slow and as unnervingly noticeable as a fart. Much in the way that Mat reminisces over his “extroverted, confident ‘me’“, I reminisce heavily upon the teenage me, the one who had stars in her eyes and never wavered in her confidence of her abilities.

Except, when I really think about it, when I’m honest with myself, and I face my self in the mirror, I know that isn’t true.

All that I’ve lost, really, are my rose tinted glasses.

I grew up.

I was never motivated, I was never determined. I was lucky. I can’t reminisce about the person I was because I know more about myself now than I did before, and I think the hardest part of climbing out of the pit of your mental un-health is accepting that life goes forwards, not backwards. I can’t unlearn all the things I’ve learnt since I noticed three years ago that I wasn’t happy. The truth is, I was unhappy before that. I’ve been fighting off that frequency sadness for as long as I can remember.

So I can’t go back and rewind the clock, because all I have is now and I don’t want to be that sad girl anymore. I’ve been thinking a lot about cycles, the 7-year-life cycle in particular. Wait, though- Before you flick back to whatever you were doing before you decided to read my blog, bear with me. Aside from whatever spiritual or philosophical connotations the idea might have, let’s look at it logically for a second. The first seven years of our life we spend smelling and touching and feeling out the world around us. Any mental learning is done almost subconsciously, depending on how our world treated us. We’re well on our way to becoming a real, pubescent adult when the second cycle rolls around, by which point we’re discovering our sexuality, relationships, viewpoints and intellect. This is such a huge exploratory phase for some. Then the third arrives, and we’re beginning to find out what the world is like without our parents driving the train. We’re figuring out where we place in the grand scheme of things, and wondering how you might change, politically, environmentally, socially. And then come our twenties.

Jesus Fuck.

WHAT HAPPENED?!

I think it is no coincidence that a lot of people suffer mental illness for the first time in this particular age bracket. I envy those who don’t. They tend to be some of the most driven, strongest people I know. But my friends used to call it “the mid-twenties fear.” Out of nowhere, we’re mentally and physically culpable for all our own decisions and mistakes, and all the ideas we had for life in those first three cycles have become somewhat buried under a pile of work deadlines, rent days and bills to pay. We don’t own your own home yet, we aren’t married, we have no kids. We aren’t in the perfect job yet, we haven’t even begun the successes that were supposed to come to us after we put in so much work at our GCSE’s, A-Levels, degrees!

We’re the guy cleaning our toilets now, we’re the ones buying the food. School didn’t prepare us (not in the UK at least) for how to deal with every day responsibilities; how to pay taxes, how to arrange loans, how to mentally cope with the resounding disappointment we feel at how our lives panned out in contrast to the grand ideals we had when we were in our third cycle.

Oof. I know. Heavy man.

(I have a big problem with how out-dated our education system is; instead of being career-driven, it is goal-driven. Degrees don’t work for everyone and they evidently do not provide for a stable economy. More apprenticeships, less pressure on exams (not everyone is good at those) and more practical applications, pls & thnx)

But here’s what I’ve realised. Life is a cycle. It’s not meant to go backwards, it’s supposed to continue on its round, picking up what we’ve learned and adapting itself as it goes. Why focus on what we haven’t got when we should focus on what we do have? And if something is ever spiralling, ever changing and evolving, how can we go back to the last cycle? Should we jam an iron rod in the spokes, forcing the wheel to brake suddenly and collapse under the pressure? Because that is what would happen. That is what happened to me.

I knew at the age of 18 my life wasn’t heading in the right direction, when I stared out of my university accommodation window at York Minster in the distance, listening to Stop This Train by John Meyer. The night was dark, and I sat curled on my redundant desk chair, wondering in a pale blue light of sadness, even then. Eventually I made the change, dropping out of further education and pursuing my joy, my music. But it did not alleviate the sadness. I continued on, all the while so scared of living life on my own, so scared of growing up. I lived in fear for years of never achieving my goals because I could not bear to be alone doing it. Isolation was my motivation and fear my hinderance.

I spent years dreaming and idealising this vision of the future where I was always winning, where I was singing and performing and recording and I was writing with everyone and everyone wanted to write with me, and everything was just going to work out (claps between words required). It was easier living in this fantasy life I wanted to build, but the escape was taking me further away from reality. Much like that incredible Pixar film, Inside Out, fear and sadness was in control of my actual life.

Things were going well for a while in that frame of mind, but then they didn’t.

When all those things I’d dreamt (I stress that I never visualised them, not in a positive way- I dreamed them- the difference is as vast as an ocean) didn’t happen, I kept harking on to that past self, wondering where it all went wrong, trying to get back that ambition, the endless streams of excitement, the riveting pangs of desire. It was all a lie I told myself. Because really, all I had in the pit of my stomach was dull and and grey; it was nothing, and I could feel myself hiding in that pit, far, far away from where I used to be. All of what I told myself was a lie, and I was starting to realise the truth of it.

I think that amidst all of it, life was telling me (whatever it was; nature, God, Buddha’s mates,) I ought not to hyper-admire my old self. Because in trying to become my past self, I was ignoring what I could become in the future. All of the little lies I told myself started to evolve on their own like that black icky shit from Prometheus (don’t watch it- it’s disappointing, just like your life), to the point that I forgot what I had done to protect myself; when all of those things I had lied with were stripped from me, I was naked and bare, and I had no idea of how I was going to move through the murk of it all. My self esteem was so low that the idea of performing made me anxious, writing made me cry, I sat in silence at the piano with a choke in my throat and my guitar lay in its case gathering dust.

But I was naked for a reason. I had to accept that I was relying heavily upon this idea of my self, not upon what I was. I was constantly seeking others’ approval, my only source of validation was what I thought others thought of me.

It has been empowering to know that the answer has been in me all along. I cannot blame others for how I view myself.

Life is a cycle. I am where I am supposed to be now. It’s not perfect, I’m still working on me and creating my life with my own hands, not someone else’s. I’m not quite there yet, but I’m trying.

But maybe this is my best self, because I’m so much more aware and emotionally awake. Maybe I’m the best I can be because I recognised my laziness and arrogance when I needed to, and in stripping these things away from my ego I am looking forward to being a better person, not the young complacent girl I was. And as a woman, cycles rule our lives. From the second cycle to the latter, our emotions and physiology is run by a monthly turn of events. Part of the reason I came off the pill was so that I could feel and trust this more purely. I was neglecting my basic instincts and self and I couldn’t have jacked up hormones hiding it away from me.

So everything comes and goes. The old girl goes and the new woman arrives. We have a chance to change every time. All aspects of life in this world run in a cycle. Water, fire, earth. It all moves and works in a cycle. Ice ages, the rising of dough into a beautiful donut, the melting of butter atop a mountain of cheese and jacket potato. Life and death. All the important stuff.

So I let the death of my old self instigate the birth of a better me. And one day I might shed this skin too and look forward to the next husk I inhabit.

What I’m learning is that nostalgia can be good, if you’re with your mates and remembering that time you threw up down the side of George Ezra’s tour van (true story).

But if we start becoming nostalgic about our selves, thinking of our current self in a negative way, dousing it in low light and bad reflective gear, and instead highlighting that past self with the glory light of hindsight, we can’t, and I believe, we won’t move forward.

We have to accept ourselves as we are now, and then build whatever we can upon the foundations that we create every second we’re alive. Because all we have are our own decisions, that ultimately we are in control of. How we respond, how we act, what we say; at the end of the day, that’s who we are. What you did today, that’s who you are, good or bad. No-one is perfect and life is a cycle. We always have tomorrow to try again.

We don’t have yesterday, so

[spiderstep-writes]

Age Gaps in Warriors

Been thinking about this a lot lately. I’m not really going to be taking a solid stance here, simply because the distinction between “adult” and “child” in Warriors is very ill-defined and inconsistent. While it’s certainly wrong for an adult to be in a relationship with a child, what ages count as a child seems to be up in the air - and while most fantasy books don’t explicitly say what ages count as childhood, they are typically about humans, so we can infer those facts from real life. Warriors is about cats, with the life spans of cats, not humans. If we said that they weren’t allowed to be in relationships if they’re under 18 years old, there would be no relationships.

One common fanon interpretation is that apprentices are children, and warriors are adults. This certainly makes a lot of sense, culturally - getting your warrior name is effectively a coming-of-age ceremony. But the idea of a warrior dating an apprentice being wrong directly contradicts canon, as several canon pairings (Dustpelt and Ferncloud, Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight, Feathertail and Crowfeather, off the top of my head) happened when the younger cat was an apprentice and the older a warrior. This is never portrayed as wrong or bad. In the novella we do not speak of, however, it’s said that apprentices aren’t supposed to date warriors. Yet this isn’t treated with the gravity of pedophilia, and is “wrong” in the same way having a mate in a different Clan is, or a medicine cat having a mate is. Forbidden, yes, but not morally reprehensible. Now, what the relationship was likely intended to be portrayed as came off as something else entirely, and this rule appears nowhere else in the series, so I’d take that with a grain of salt.

Furthermore, there’s no real specific amount of time that one has to be an apprentice before being a warrior. At 8 moons, Graypaw and Firepaw were made warriors, yet Sandpaw and Dustpaw, both older than Graystripe and Fireheart, were still apprentices. A 20-year-old wouldn’t be less of an adult if they were held back in school for a few years, and a 13-year-old wouldn’t be any less of a minor if they skipped some grades and graduated early. But, by putting what is also a graduation ceremony as the line of adulthood, we are saying the opposite. Having a minimum length of time an apprenticeship must last would fix that, but there isn’t one in canon.

This also doesn’t address the huge age gaps in between adult warrriors - most recently, Blossomfall and Thornclaw. Now, from a meta perspective I must point out that the only single tom in her age range was her own brother, and as much as I love BlossomIvy we know how Harper Colins censors the books so that was never an option. All the other eligible toms were far younger (like Fernsong) or older (like Thornclaw). And god forbid we have a molly who doesn’t have a mate and kits. Not counting medicine cats, mollies who died tragically young, and characters with little to no screentime, the only molly who neither had a mate and kits nor expressed a regret over not having them was Mousefur. So it’s understandable why Blossomfall ended up with Thornclaw, even if you may think it’s bad.

Now, relationships between adults with a large age gap are not automatically bad. The main reason I’ve seen listed that the pairing is bad is that he was an adult when she was born, and would have seen her grow up. And, from a human perspective, that is gross. But these aren’t humans living in a modern human society with individual human families. They’re cats, living in four/five large extended families. Any cat that’s more than a few moons older than you will have been around when you were born, and likely remember it. Would they have the same sort of taboo humans have about it? I don’t know, maybe they wouldn’t. They don’t have to hold the same values humans hold about it. And, as humans, we don’t have to agree with their values either. If Thornclaw being Blossomfall’s mate bothers you, that’s fine for you to feel that way! It definitely squicks me out personally.

You’ll note that I’ve mostly avoided talking about actual feline growth and development. Well, that’s for two reasons.

First, canon gets it absolutely wrong. Older kits and young apprentices are easily picked up and carried by the scruff. But in real life, at 6 months, a cat is closer to its adult size:

At 6 months is also around when cats start being able to get pregnant/get other cats pregnant. Now, that’s not necessarily a good idea for them to start reproducing at that age, and it doesn’t make them adults, but it does make them a lot more physically mature than canon portrays them.

So when do cats stop growing? It depends on the breed. A cat can be considered “fully grown” anywhere between 1 and 4 years. While I’ve seen a lot of fans cite 1 year old as being an adult in warriors, I have yet to see anyone argue that they shouldn’t be considered adults until they reach their 4th birthday! That would be the second reason.

So, you’ve read this far. What is and isn’t an acceptable age gap in warriors? When should Clan cats be considered adults?

Honestly, a lot of it is up to personal interpretation of canon and real life feline biology, because canon is rather lacking. One person’s OTP is another person’s too large of a gap, and neither person is more right than the other.

[ladiesofloire]

WISTERIA →   tenderness. sensuality. support.

Full Name: Lucinda Davina Valcourt

Date of Birth: November 21, 1742

Focus of Magic: Magic of Space

Country of Origin: France

Pronouns: She/Her

Faceclaim: Christina Hendricks

Wisteria is entrancing, holding others captive with her stare. While she can bear the weight of heavy rain, she does so in increments. Too much too soon and she’s left drowned - forced to recover in solitude for days, unable to do much of anything. It’s only fitting then that she hides her worst petals from onlookers, showcasing beauty before flaw.

Strengths:  telekinesis, tracking, intangibility Weaknesses: portal creation, astral projection, echlocation Positive Traits: considerate, imaginative, open Negative Traits: anxious, overthinker, sneaky

The WISTERIA is loved by ANDROMEDA.

TW: depression, suicide.

Sugar.    That was how sweet Daphne and Richard’s relationship was when they met on a college campus, with Daphne working as a personal assistant to the program’s professor and Richard working as a student pursuing his master’s degree. They became each other’s favorite subject of study at the age of twenty, making their relationship official a scarce six months later. Fast forward past Richard’s graduation, they started working at a relatively progressive asylum in their mid-twenties. While they both had dreams of working as the mentally ill, only Richard was able to, given the times. Daphne would settle as the asylum’s secretary, and a highly adept one at that. Take it slow: that was how they planned their life together. But taking it slow was soon thrown out the door when Daphne bursted into Richard’s office with news of her pregnancy. And with a baby on the way, a marriage mustn’t be forgotten. So Richard proposed, to which Daphne said yes and their domesticated life began. They worked every single day, to save as much money as they could for a home that would be big enough for the three of them. Nine months later, the promise ring had been exchanged for a wedding ring, and they moved into their new home with a bundle of joy in their arms.

One more night.    For years, they made it work. Lucinda grew up in the midst of two loving parents. But at the age of five, as the little girl was entertained by the presence of her nanny, her parents left for a intimate dinner reservation. Or so she had been told. Not that she really understood what it meant. Little did she realize that their dream night was actually a visit to a mutual of theirs who specialized in psychology – particularly concerning relationships and couples. Richard had been spiraling into a depression Daphne simply couldn’t comprehend, nor work with. They had made decisions too fast, settled down too soon and it was showing through the cracks. It was what they’d been expected to do: find themselves the perfect candidate of the opposite gender and settle down. Have a good income, get married, have a child. Their parents and society brought it all upon them. Soon the happiness Lucinda experienced as a child had completely died out by the time she reached the age of ten. It was forever marked on her mentally how her mother picked her up from a friendly playdate across town. Her mother even mentioned good news over how she’d been in touch with a dear publicist about the concept of a book idea she’d had in mind for ages now and how they were interested in hearing more. Of course, published via a pseudonym as many women resorted to. Unfortunate for them both, they had little clue what awaited for them at home. A body hung horribly in the living room; Richard’s depression had taken the best of him. And Lucinda’s magic began to angrily fester because of the trauma.

She will be loved.    Her father’s death and her newfound abilities had taken a huge toll on Lucinda. They had come in like a hurricane, unexpectedly but quick. And the dynamic between her and her mother had changed to make things harder for the girl, even though the two women tried to keep their bond. Lucinda’s teenage years were no easy feat. Daphne focused herself eventually on her book, which danced around the dangers of depression. What she’d been through and what depression left behind in the home of the Valcourts. Lucinda remained outside of that house as much as possible, escaping with her rebellious companions. Away from pain and from herself. Said friend group shaped her into becoming popular for all the wrong reasons. She entertained thievery, vices, and skipping her lessons. It was easier with her gifts. At her worst, criminal charges were threatened. Luckily for her, Lucinda managed to slip out of the law’s hand with a slap on the wrist.

Misery.    As Daphne’s book became a hit and she eventually opened her own office from her home, Lucinda felt like she became less and less important. She and her mother turned into strangers. By the time Lucinda was considered of age to leave the nest, she had no idea what to do with her life. And it wasn’t like she had anyone to turn to about her magic. The last thing she wanted to become was a secretary for the ole asylum – something her mother recommended; in fact, nothing remotely felt a future job. For awhile, Lucinda worked in a seamstress and wigmaking shop in the heart of Nice. It wasn’t the best year of her life, but she did run into people there she met outside of work hours too. Explored and shared the bed with, as Lucinda just started her life in her twenties. The last thing she was interested in was a finalized marriage. Anytime she even thought about falling for someone, her commitment issues kicked in and all she could picture was how her parents’ relationship had ended.

This love.    At the age of twenty-three, Lucinda decided pursue a rare apprenticeship to a well-known artist who believed in her creativity. It still wasn’t her dream job, but it was an extraordinary experience anyone would be envious of – and one that paid well. It was at a noble’s gallery event that she met her first actual lover. It was a woman she instantly clicked with and fell in love with over the course of winter. A love she only spent five months with. One month into spring and they had to end their fling; her lover had to return to America. They ended on good terms, knowing full well the distance was an impossible obstacle. And Lucinda couldn’t leave France, knowing if she would leave, her mother could possibly succumb to loneliness. Their relationship wasn’t strong, but they still tried. Lucinda was slowly but surely leaving her wild youth behind, so she wanted to be there for her mother as much as she could. Her father had left scars on them both – scars only one another could understand and soothe. But continuing their lives in the same home became too much to bear, and with Daphne’s big sum of money from her secret profession, they decided to move. They bought a house they could make entirely their own.

Help me out.    For years Lucinda worked as an artist’s apprentice, making good money with it. Her magic put on the backburner to play with, but something she’d yet to truly explore. She didn’t follow her mother’s footsteps in getting wed to the first possible candidate, nor did her mother complain about the string of women she showed up at home with. She knew the suppression she’d lived through herself and wished for her daughter to live the life she wanted. Though, despite Lucinda trying hard, her lovers never lasted. But a new chapter came to play for the redhead. After years of occupying herself with being content, she decided she needed to find a place for her in this world. To find a home with people maybe like her, find magic and happiness, find herself. And maybe find someone to fall in love with, again. And with her mother publishing another book under her famous pseudonym that became once again a popular read, Lucinda realized she didn’t have to take care of the woman anymore. So Lucinda started her search for more like her, with gifts they couldn’t explain. It was actually through a fan of her mother’s work that she met another witch, who then introduced her to Loire Academy. Lucinda couldn’t even have dared to dream about it. She decided to join the ranks, first studying for awhile before taking over as a professor. The turn her life had taken! A job she truly came to love more and more over time, with every student she left an impact on. Now, give or take a year later, she’s still teaching, finding women she can connect with and form friendships with, or maybe more than that.