#why does acantha talk like that?

[darkanachronism]

Finally! An excuse to talk about Dirk.

Name: Acantha Dirk Knifely, there's no secret reason why she doesn't use Acantha anymore. She just doesn't like it, the vibes are wrong.

Race: Hexblood, but mechanically half wood elf. (It's works fairly well, Minthara being racist felt extremely on point.)

Class: Circle of Spores Druid

Background: If you ask Dirk it's not much of a story, she's a perpetually unlucky kid from The Outer City. Her parents are dead, her boss is an asshole, her only friends are rats and she has to bribe them. And she can not catch a break. That's all there is too it.

But I feel like rambling.

Her mother escaped a druidic circle who had performed the rite of thorns, by making a deal with hag for her first born child. As a result Dirk isn't quite human. She normally just says she's a half elf and if anyone asks about the moldy splotches all over her skin she'll mumble something about it not being contagious and it being a Druid thing.

By all rights she should be a green hag by now. That usually happens on the thirteenth birthday.

But her parents sort of exploded, along with the little apothecary shop they owned.

Which resulted in Dirk going off the grid, she was a pretty forgettable child, so no one actually cared where she ended up, and as a result her hypothetical hag mom can not find her.

She ended up staying with one of her dad's card buddies, a small time fence, crook, kidsman and shyster named Druid Dave. (He's not a Druid, he's a wizard school drop out with a dip into warlock because he can not make good decisions.)

It was on the condition she could earn her keep, so Dirk did, making potions, picking pockets, hurling a healing spell someone's way for a gold piece or two, and using her wild shape to break and enter. (It's amazing the places a rat can get.)

She's been plying her trade as a petty thief and career criminal ever since. She was in the middle of running away from a job gone pear-shaped when she got picked up by mindflayers.

Personality: Dirk is a hard one to explain. Suspicious, awkward, jumpy. And just generally off-putting, despite being fairly perceptive and good at getting a handle on a situation she has a phenomenal knack for saying the wrong thing. Charisma is her dumpstat. Frankly, it should be lower than eight.

She's blunt and lacks any real idea of how to keep her thoughts to herself even when she knows she should. She tries most of the time.

She generally tries very hard to shut the hell up, avoid notice and let everyone else talk. Since when she does it it's always a disaster.

She's not enjoying being the main character. Dirk is spending her whole tadpole adventure one bad minute away from a panic attack.

She's used to stress though, does well as long as she has a clear cut goal she can usually power through.

Admittedly a lot of the constant dread in her life comes from being a little guy with one ho and no money, she's well into her adventure by now and very quickly realizing she's a force to be reckoned with, which tends to manifest of bursts of overconfident stupidity.

She's also quick to grab at anything that will give her power. All it took was the offer of Authoirty for her to start using those tadpoles.

She is finding shes better at the whole hero thing then she ever would have thought, that she might actually, like helping people, or at least people who remind her of her, kids, animals, goblins, and anyone getting kicked around by power structures. She's softer then shed like to be in that respect, sometimes you just need to let some gnomes die instead of starting a fight with all of Grymforge.

Romancing: Astarion, neither of them know what they're doing. This is just two idiots who have never had a healthy relationship in their life. Withers acknowledged this was an actual relationship before either of them did. She's still not quite sure what to call it.

Hobbies: Dirk is significantly better at Lanceboard then people expect on looking at her. She has a good head for strategy and remembering the moves.

She also really does enjoy alchemy. It's a work skill technically, but she likes it. She's spends most of her nights restocking health potions and messing with new recipes.

Tav thread???  I wanna see em all.

• Tav name/pic

• Race

• Class

• Backstory

• Personality

• Who they're romancing

• An interesting hobby they have

[dreamerinsilico]

How about number 77 'You need to be more careful', for Acantha? (:

(Okay, this ran away with me a bit in a great way!  It clicked in my head when I realized it would be so much better written during Deadfire.)

What Do We Say to the God of Death?

(AO3 version)

“You need t’be more careful, Watcher,” Xoti clucks as she patches Acantha up.  Her magic is warmth and tingling and the barest suggestion of light, and leaves no trace of a scar, but it can’t do anything about the blood (too much blood, she’s light-headed) that soaks Acantha’s ruined shirt.  To Acantha’s profound displeasure, it’s also made its way into one of her braids.  Fresh water is a precious commodity aboard a ship, but she will not be washing her hair in the sea.

The admonition from Xoti is a light one, but Aloth is giving her a troubled look from the sidelines.  “Yes, indeed you do.”

Acantha sighs and glances aside.  He knows her too damned well.  

Later, when her hair is satisfactorily clean of blood (she can still smell it, faintly, but that is preferable to anything she might use to cover the smell up) and he is companionably re-braiding it for her, he speaks up again.  “What happened, today, in the fight?”  

She knows what he means, but is inclined to be contrary, at the moment.  “A raider stuck her sabre in me.”

Aloth makes the noise through his nose that means “Why are you like this?” and she finds herself smirking faintly, albeit with bitterness.  

“You didn’t even need to be on their ship,” he points out.

“Saw an opportunity; took it.”

He is quiet for a moment, hands moving methodically in her damp hair.  It would normally be soothing, but they’re obviously going to have this conversation now.  She knows, on some level, that she probably needs to, but the stubborn creature in her wants to fight it.  

“You’ve��� been doing that more and more lately.”  Aloth clears his throat.  He’s trying to be tactful.  Nowadays she understands it as an instinct and a personal need of his, rather than an active repudiation of her preference to just get to the point, so she just waits for him to get there on his own, rather than prodding at him.  “Taking… risky opportunities.”

Acantha has historically been very much like Aloth himself in a fight - far more comfortable keeping her distance, letting the people who wear real armor get up close and personal with their opponents.  They can both be plenty effective from afar.  But lately, it’s as though there is a cloud of Old Vailian mosquitos in her head, buzzing between her ears and swimming around in her blood, making her itch.  The immediacy of a knife-edged situation drowns them out, a little. 

It’s always worse right after one of her little episodes with Berath, and whichever other gods feel like dropping in to be condescending that day.  

“Snatched me back from the Wheel, did Berath,” she points out sardonically.  “I am an investment.”  

She can’t see Aloth pursing his lips, but she knows he’s doing it.  “Did they ever tell you they would do it again?” 

“No,” she admits.  (She gives it roughly even odds, at least for one occasion of her getting herself killed, depending on the level of recklessness that precipitated it.  Part of her almost wants to find out.)

“They called you again recently, didn’t they?” he asks, with a tone of almost gentle attentiveness. 

A sigh.  “Yes.  Two nights past.”

He takes the silver comb to another section of her hair, and she lets her eyelids flutter shut for a moment in comfort at the teeth of it against her scalp.  “Tell me about it, if you want to.”

She finds that, surprisingly, she does.

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

Are you going to finish the Tiny Virgil AU? Cause the last chapter ended on a cliffhanger. If you don't feel like finishing the whole thing, you could maybe give us bullet points of what was supposed to happen?

Ahaha whoops, I kinda forgot that fic. at the rate I'm going, it'll take like ten years for that or any of my other fics to get finished. Tbh, I actually have a whole outline for that one? Acantha (@theeternalspace) and I brainstormed the rest ages ago and then I took our thoughts and bullet-outlined it out.

The thing is? Like, emotionally I want to hold onto my thoughts and finish it, but if I am to be completely honest, realistically it probably won't happen. Because I wanna prioritize Gibbous over it and all.

so tldr: I'd like to write more installments, but in the case I never finish it and/or you don't care about spoilers, check the read more for what happens.

warnings: hurt/comfort, crying, morally grey sides (all sides are present so beware idk its been awhile im not up to date with how the fandom handles this sorta thing)

Chapter 5

Anx cant believe he forgot about Thomas!

He was so caught up in Creativity wanting to play with him, he's forgotten about his whole purpose

He goes to the real world, worried about all the things that could've befallen his host without his guidance

Anx is confused to be faced with adult Morality and another...side?

"Thomas?"

Thomas is big, Anx is not

This can't be real, can it? How can he protect Thomas like this?

Roman shows up, but the damage is dealt (Ro and Pat converse a bit)

Virge starts panicking and panics even more when he sees Thomas affected by it

Ro & Pat try to comfort Virge but no use

It's Thomas who gets to him. Who is...helping? Why?

"Wh-why are you so nice? I'm bad, I hurt you--I do bad things."

Thomas looks sad at that. He tries to explaining that he doesnt think Virge is bad, he can be good

Virge doesnt really understand but at the same time...Thomas loves him??

Thomas offers him a hug and he accepts it. Still so confused but at least his host loves him.

Chapter 6

Virgil ends up tuckered up in Thomas' arms

"Crying is exhausting, don't like it" He complains to Roman.

"I know. You've been very brave, little prince."

It's not that late but Thomas seems nervous. "I should go to bed." (Basically feels like if he doesnt adhere to his childhood bedtime, he'll get in trouble aka lil Virgil's influence)

Patton asks if he'd like for him to accompany him and Thomas nods

Roman and Virgil end up back in the mindscape with Patton promising to follow soon after

Roman tucks him into bed

Patton comes back, looking tired, and both Roman and Patton agree to talk with Logan in the morning about things

in the morning with Virgil still asleep, Lo, Pat and Ro talk briefly

Logan shares some theories (Age regression maybe?)

Patton tells them what's up with Thomas

Roman decides to bother the Dark Sides. "If this happened before in the past, they would know, wouldn't they? And if they're behind it this time then I can get them to stop it"

They decide to have Patton look out for Thomas again and for Logan to watch over Virgil while Roman ventures out to the Dark Sides

Chapter 7

Logan mulls over what is happening

Grateful that Thomas is going to bed early at least

He is not worried, he is Logic

Tries focusing hard on his book

Virgil wakes up, disappointed to see Logan and not Roman

Roman ventures through the dark mindscape

infodump detail on how it differs vs. the regular mindscape, quiet, silence nobody is around

"HELLO" Roman screams as his brother pops up

"What do I owe brother dear for this visit?"

Virgil is worried about Roman, but Logan placates him a bit

The two end up doing a puzzle

During which Virgil randomly hugs Logan

When Logan asks why, Virgil explains "You're scared. Hugs make me feel less scared"

Logan thanks him for the sentiment but insists he is not scared

"You're scared, I can feel it. It's okay, I get scared lots of times so you don't have to." Virgil says

And then Logan's fear dissipates

He stares at Virgil, shocked, because did tiny virge take his fear away??

And if so, if tiny virge knows how to do this, has adult Virgil been doing it without them knowing??

Chapter 8

"I know you did it" Roman growls. It makes sense really. Remus did random things for sh*t and giggles

Remus blinked "Oh! You found out about ____, didn't you?"

"What no!" Roman says, disgusted. "I'm talking about Virgil."

"Wait, you think I did it with Virgil? Mr. Emo?"

"NO!" Roman snaps. "Stop playing dumb!"

The two have a scuffle, ending up with Remus having a sword at Ro's throat (who is stuck in green goop)

"I really don't know what you mean." Remus says, "What is it exactly do you think I did again?"

Logic must hate him, Anx thinks, otherwise why would he be looking strangely at him?

but its okay, even if it really really really hurts, Anx has done it before and would do it again to keep from any of them feeling pain

He asks if Anx took his fear away and he nods

surely this must be a happy thing but Logic seems even more upset

the fear grappling tiny virge is foreign. It's so different than fears he's taken before. He finds himself drowning in it. he doesnt quite understand most of it. But there's fears about himself, Logic being scared for him, not of him. (basically oh boy adult fears are much harder to process for a child Anxiety)

Logic grips his hand and asks for his fears back

"I can't" Tiny Virge says, shaking like a leaf

Logan asks it again. Virge shakes his head "I can't, I--I don't know how!"

He really doesnt know how. Usually he just holds it all in until it explodes.

Logic echoes some of what the fear is telling him, that Logic cares for him. And weirdly, it means a lot for him to hear that Logic actually cares.

But noooo he must only care because of Thomas, right?

Anyways this is resolved somehow idk lmao and then Logan is called to help with Thomas

Virgil promises Lo he'll be okay, not wanting to stop him from being able to help their host

Logan promises he'll back momentarily

Virgil squeezes Zola and tries his best to stay calm

Previously on Rem and Ro

Roman spills the beans on whats up

Deadbeat silence

Remus then babbles about how he has no clue what Roman is talking about, but is super intrigued and wants to check this out for himself

He sinks out as Roman grabs onto his ankle, but isn't enough to stop him from sinking out.

Chapter 9

"Hiya!"

Little Anx squeaks, shadows gathering at his feet, ready to strike at....

A Green-Dressed Creativity? He dresses fancily like him.

"Princey?"

Green laughs. "No, I'm The Duke! Princey's my brother!"

And Lil Virge is kinda confused but rolls with it because Creativity pretending to be someone else/splitting himself into two is a very Creativity thing to do and isn't too worried about it.

Roman shows up, fuming

However, because of Virgil, he has to play nice

They end up having a pretend tea party

Roman finds himself shocked that Remus is decent with kids? Or at least a Kid Anxiety??

He still says outrageous things but Virge giggles at them (Basically kids really have no baseline for moral right-or-wrong, they find talk of murder funny)

Roman feels a bit guilty/regretful realizing he never played much with Remus growing up

Eventually, Logan pops up slightly frazzled

He's relieved to see the twins there looking after Virgil

Explains the situation w/ Thomas to Roman while Remus and Virgil play

Patton pops up, looking slightly weary, leading Roman and Logan to insist he take a day off from watching Thomas

Upon seeing Logan & Patton, Virgil runs up to hug Logan, but shies away from Patton

Patton tries to hide his disappointment about this

Remus tries to leave upon seeing Lo and Pat are here

but Virge clings to him, insisting he stays

The Others agree, and Remus perks up a bit.

Somewhere, there's a discussion about Virge again, late at night?

Logan reveals Virgil taking fears from him

At some point it's decided to leave Janus out of it as it's unknown how little Virge would react to him and the fact that Janus most likely knows what's up and has chosen to stay out of it

It's decided that Remus and Roman will traverse the Imagination to see if there's a solution there

Logan will be with Thomas

Meanwhile Patton will look after Virgil

Chapter 10

Patton's POV

Little Virge is upset about both Remus and Roman leaving

they try to placate him but it does little. (Telling him how they'll stay safe and they don't want him going because they want to keep him safe)

Patton's heart breaks but he has to holds back Virge.

Eventually the two have heart-to-heart

Apparently the two had a classic childhood spat, that means a lot to Virge even tho poor Pat doesnt remember the spat at all.

Pat tells them they're the best of friends now, even shows him evidence

Virge feels a little better

Sees a snake stuffy in Pat's room, asks about Dee

Patton deflects

The two end up making cookies together

The Imagination is a bust, although the twins return squabbling in a good mood

And Remus has a "present" for Virgil, who delights in it.

They chat, when suddenly Virgil screams

Chapter 11

Virgil's POV

He's been trying his best to stay calm, to hold back the anxiety gained from Logan and also the other fears swelling inside of him

But it's too much, and push comes to shove. A burning sensation occurs

And it explodes

He has a panic attack and realizes it extends into the real world

Overwhelmed and upset, he runs off.

He runs off to his hideaway and sits there

Getting bombarded with fears

He's there for what feels like hours when--

"Oh my dear Anxiety" A crooning, unfamiliar yet familiar voice says

Virgil looks, surprised, to see Deceit!! There's a lot more scales and he's wearing a funny outfit but it's him

He is happy to see him albeit sobbing into his capelet because of what happened.

Dee holds onto him going, “Shhhh everything’s alright. Shhh it’s not your fault. It’s my fault, I’m sorry—“ and Virgil interrupts shrieking it can’t be his fault, because in his mind Dee would never do anything bad and it hurts Dee to know that young Virge has so much faith in him.

"You'll hate me" But Little Virge refuses to accept that. "You're lying, you don't mean that"

"Okay, you caught me. "We stay best friends forever" OR something along those lines

Dee convinces him to bring back to the others, that they don't hate him

When they return, the others "freaking out" is a mild understatement.

Dee slowly produces tiny Virge out of his capelet.

Hisses at them to keep their distance because crowding Virge will only freak him out

Apologies and misunderstandings are made clear

Thomas summons all of them and they all have a sleepover

Virgil falls asleep snuggled between Remus and Dee

Chapter 12

Maybe Roman's POV?

Along with Thomas, they have a discussion

Dee waits a bit, before revealing that he's behind the reason for Virge's current state.

As his role Deceit, he has access to both truth and lies. One lie is that Virgil believes his kid self died and is no longer a part of him--attempting to actively repress those memories

He then points out the childish aspects of each side's function. (Maybe Logan input something about growing up and stuff)

P: "But why would Virgil think this?" J: "oh gee, I wonder why. It isn't like he was made to feel like an outcast from a very young age or anything"

Instant Guilt for all

Anyways Dee explains some mishap occurred, thus reverting Virgil back to this state

You get the sense Janus isn't telling the whole truth.

Janus says he has a way to fix things, and that's when there's a noise

"Anx?"

Virge is there, standing incredibly still, slightly heavy breathing

"Anx, it's okay, we're not upset"

Little Virge heard everything and is upset but he understands

He knows Thomas needs big him, and the others reassure him that they'll be there for him, each having a small moment with him

Then he starts glowing brightly, causing them all to be alarmed, Janus included

Chapter 13

Virgil is back and boiiiiiii is he freaked the heck out

The Others including Thomas are all there, F*CK how can he ever recover after they saw him like that?

He's both embarrassed and mortified

Not to mention it hurts to have two sets of childhood memories rattling inside his head. One that was lonely and painful, and the other that was happy but fake

He snaps at Janus and ends up fleeing in his room

He doesn't duck out

He cant do that

He just doesnt....go out. He doesn't want to hear the jokes start. He doesnt want the babying or the pitying to start.

He does his job and that is that.

(inwardly he knew this would happen, but not like this)

They try summoning him (Thomas included) but he wont come out. His door is locked.

Patton slips a note under the door but Virge refuses to look at it.

Blares MCR

Somehow Zola appears in his room, and he'd like to tear it apart or something, but he can't help but squeeze the stuffed bat tight and cry for the childhood that never was.

A week passes, and there's a very sad prince at his door

Virgil ends up letting him in because look, he's not a monster

it's very...awkward at first

but they eventually have a heart-to-heart and some snarky banter

and Virgil is very confused when Princey feels the need to apologize to him

They also discuss Janus and Virgil very reluctantly agrees to talk to him

Virgil ends up talking with Janus over tea

Janus doesn't really look at him, staring at his teacup as he explains himself

and dammit, Janus has hurt him (but then again so has Virgil hurt Janus)

But a part of him really misses him. A part of him that has always missed him.

Janus explains he just wanted to know where he went wrong in their friendship, that he went the round-about way because knew Virgil wouldn't talk to him but messed with things he shouldnt and accidentally caused Virgil to revert to the age before their friendship started fraying by accident.

He admits that he almost wanted to leave Virgil that age, to take advantage of it as a way to start again, but ultimately couldnt let himself take advantage of virgil in that way

He also apologizes, telling Virgil "Showing weakness isn't bad. I told you once that you had to stay strong and not let anyone see it, but I was wrong" and that he understands if Virgil doesnt accept his apology right away or if ever

And Virgil doesnt completely accept, not yet, but he's willing to try

It ends happily with them going down to dinner with the others. (possibly Virgil having moments with the others??)

the end

BONUS, Written Scene from Chapter 11 w/ Virge's and Janus's reunion because I was self-indulgent and wrote ahead

“Oh my dear Anxiety,” A silky voice croons, so achingly familiar.

He sniffles, raising his head to meet eyes with the much older face of his best friend; Deceit. It has to be, there is no other side whose left side of face is reptilian in nature. He’s crouching beside Virgil, only one set of arms present at the moment. He’s wearing a funny outfit, but then Deceit has always dressed funny, just like Creativity. Neither of them have ever been worried about standing out.

“Dee!” Anxiety cries out, all but flinging himself onto the older side. The velocity of it flattens the two onto the ground, with Deceit letting a small grunt from the impact. He’d be more worried about possibly hurting Deceit if he wasn’t too busy bawling his eyes out into the strange cape Deceit is wearing.

Deceit strokes his hair, so soft and gentle. Then two sets of arms hoist Anxiety upwards, settling him onto Deceit’s lap. Deceit hugs Anxiety, cocooning him in a warm embrace. For a moment, everything feels normal again. As if they’re all kids still and Anxiety had sought Deceit for comfort after a bad nightmare.

Then Deceit speaks, saying words meant to be comforting. They are comforting at first, until Deceit says things that don’t make sense. And Anxiety knows Deceit is a liar, that he says things that aren’t true. But he knows when Deceit isn’t lying. They’re best friends after all.

“Shhh, it’ll be alright. Shhh, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong, it’s not your fault. It’s mine. I hurt you and I’m--”

“No!”

“No?” Deceit repeats.

“No, it--it--you didn’t do anything bad, you wouldn’t!” Anxiety says, nearly shrieking, “You’d never, ever, hurt me. We’re best friends and best friends don’t do that.”

A strange, choking noise erupts from Deceit. Anxiety looks to see Deceit’s human eye glistening. His best friend’s lips quiver, like Anxiety gets when he gets too scared to speak. Except Deceit is never scared. He always knows what to say in a situation, confident in ways Anxiety could never be.

“Oh, I’ve forgotten what you were like at this age,” Deceit whispers, so low that Anxiety thinks he wasn’t meant to hear it. Then Deceit shakes his head, a weird laugh escaping him. “You’re going to hate me, Anx. Or rather, you’re going to hate me more after this is all over.”

“You’re lying,” Anxiety accuses, his fingers tightening around the fabric of Deceit’s cloak, “You don’t mean that. I love you, Dee, you’re my best friend and--and...Big Me is still best friends with you, right?!”

Deceit inhales sharply, as if there’s something stuck in his throat. Before Anxiety can even grow concerned for his well being, he breaths out a long dramatic sigh.

He rolls his eyes, smirking, “Alright, you caught me.”

“I did?”

“Yes. I was only lying to scare you out of crying,” Deceit assures him, “I didn’t mean to scare you into thinking we weren’t best friends still. Of course we are.”

“G-good,” Anxiety huffs, “don’t scare me like that, Dee, I don’t like it!”

“I won’t do it again, I promise,” Deceit says, his smirk fading a bit as he takes on a somber expression, “it still isn’t your fault for what happened, Virg--Anxiety. Neither I or any of the others think it is. They certainly despise you for it.”

“Despise?” Anxiety’s heart jumps a bit, “Oh! You mean...you’re saying...they don’t despise me?”

“I don’t know,” Deceit raises an eyebrow, “Why don’t you try reaching out? See what their fears tell you.”

Anxiety closes his eyes, sticking his tongue out in concentration. If he thinks super hard, he can envision everyone's fears like spider webs, branching all over the mindscape, interconnected in some ways and in others, completely disconnected in each side's little corner.

And he is the itsy bitsy spider, that scuttles about and maintains the webs to some degree. Because a little bit of fear is good, it helps keep Thomas alive. So he traces the webs and searching for what Dee suggested. There is one thread present, in every nook and cranny of the web, he searches, even in the splinter-offs. One fear that repeats and loops through the whole network that he has never seen before.

"Oh." Anxiety breathes, eyes widening. They're not afraid of him. They're afraid for him, worried about his safety and wellbeing. Anxiety doesn't know what to think of that.

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

Chapter 12 of Can’t Find My Way Home is up! Baz and Simon have finally made it home to Pitch Manor. What awaits them at Christmas dinner? Read at Ao3.

Simon  

We get to the dining room entrance and my palms start to sweat. Mr. and Mrs. Grimm have been nothing but polite to me so far but I’m still nervous about this. About us, I suppose.

Not us as in Baz and me. I’m not nervous about him, which is a new and exhilarating realization. He’d always made me twitchy before but it seems I’ve finally figured out why.

It’s more about announcing the fact that we’re dating to his family.

I mean, it’s not really announcing anything though, is it? I’m certain Mordelia has managed to do that for us already. And it’s not as if Baz and I have been that discreet in the last day. It just wasn’t around anyone either of us knew.

I’ve not had a serious relationship since Agatha. Being around her parents wasn’t quite so fraught; I knew them fairly well before we started dating, when we were just friends and they’d take me in for the Christmas holidays.

I’m not so good around people’s parents. I’m not sure how to act. I’m an outsider looking in, I suppose, and everyone’s level of comfort with their parents is different. It confuses me.

And then there’s Baz’s Aunt Fiona. She doesn’t just confuse me, she fucking unnerves me, with that piercing stare of hers and comments that bloody well flay you. I hope she’s not here.

I really hope she’s not here.

Baz pushes open the door to the dining room and I drop his hand as if it’s on fire. Fiona Pitch is sitting directly across from the doorway and her gaze goes right to us.

So does everyone else’s.

Fuck.

Baz’s fingers find mine again and he squeezes my hand. I feel hot, sweaty and shaky, but the cool touch of his hand on mine settles me just a bit. I don’t know why I’m freaking out right now, at the worst possible time, but it’s not like I’ve got control over it.

Baz rubs his thumb over mine and squeezes again, a little harder this time. I dart a look in his direction and see the flush on his cheeks but he’s got a bit of a smirk on his face. His chin’s up and I know this look. This is Baz ready to verbally spar with anyone.

And somehow it relaxes me. I take a breath and try to smile. I know I probably look a fright but I can do this. With Baz at my side, I can do this.

Fiona leans back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest, her smirk a perfect match for the one Baz is sporting. “Baz, you finally found a bloke.”

“Fiona, you remember Simon, Baz’s roommate from Watford?” Daphne leans forward and gives Fiona a tight little smile.

“I’m sure you remember him,” Mr. Grimm chimes in. “Come, Simon.” He motions me over.  “I imagine you are sick to death of aeroplane food. Good thing you made it in time for Christmas dinner.”  

I stumble to an open seat next to Baz’s little brother. I can’t remember his name right now. Baz slides in next to me, bumps my leg under the table and then keeps his own pressed against my thigh. It’s reassuring.

Fiona’s still coolly appraising me, one eyebrow arched. It makes her look so much like Baz. “Well, it’s about damn time, Snow. I had assumed you were too thick to figure it out.”

I blink at her. “Figure what out?”

She rolls her eyes. “That Baz was pining for you all those years, you pillock.” She’s still smirking. “How many times did I tell you, Malcolm? You could cut the sexual tension in that room with a knife.”

“Leave it, Fiona.” Mr. Grimm gives her a stern look.

“Oh, come on, Malcolm. Let me revel in it for a moment, will you? Baz is finally shagging Mage’s Chosen One and I’m the last to know.”

Christ, I hate that nickname. Baz called me that first year, when he found out I was on scholarship to Watford. No one’s called me that for years. I truly despise it.

Fiona’s grinning at me now, glass raised. “Cheers, Snow. You’re the first bloke Baz has brought home to meet the family. When’s the announcement going in the Times?”

Baz groans. “Seriously, Fiona, put a sock in it.”

Mr. Grimm clears his throat. “Daphne, please pass the roast.”

And just as suddenly as it started it’s done. Everyone turns their eyes away from us and begins to dig in to the platters of food being sent around the table.

There are a fair number of platters. My stomach had been in knots for a few minutes there but it’s easing now as the first platter reaches me. It’s roast beef.

I love roast beef. It was always on my list of things I missed about Watford, when I’d go back to care in the summers. There’s roasted potatoes and chestnut stuffing and brussels sprouts with bacon and my appetite comes roaring back as the scent of the food overwhelms me.

This meal puts even Watford’s best to shame. I take second helpings of practically everything. I catch a glimpse of Baz’s face as he holds the platter of roast beef for me and he’s got that fond expression again.

We do the Christmas crackers then Mrs. Grimm brings out a massive trifle and sticky toffee pudding, and I may as well have died and gone to heaven. I feel stuffed and warm and full of goodwill towards mankind, even Fiona at this point.

Meal over, we make our way to the drawing room, where a large fire is already crackling merrily in the stone fireplace. I’m not sure where to sit or what to do, but Baz tugs me to one of the large sofas. His siblings immediately swarm us from all sides. One of the twins sits next to me, the other by Baz’s feet.

I’ve got no idea which one is sitting by me—they’ve got matching outfits on, just as Baz said, and I can’t tell them apart. Magnus is curled up in front of me and Mordelia is lounging next to Baz. She was all cool indifference at dinner, sporting the utterly bored look that Baz had perfected back at school. It’s uncanny how she channels him so well.

I dare a sidelong look at her. She’s not all cool indifference now. Her arm is tucked around Baz’s and as I peek at her she leans her head against his shoulder.

It’s so domestic. Baz’s parents are seated on the loveseat closest to the fire, talking quietly to each other. Fiona has taken over one of the massive stuffed leather armchairs across from them, wine glass full yet again.

And Baz is holding my hand.

Baz

It didn’t take long for my siblings to warm up to Simon. Mordelia is still attempting to be aloof and apathetic, but she’s been sizing Simon up since we walked in the door. Acantha has been pestering him with her awful puns since the trifle was served and Ophelia unexpectedly snuggled up to him on the sofa. She’s usually the more reserved one of the two.

And as expected, Magnus demanded bedtime stories. But not from me.

I’m leaning against his doorframe, watching Simon read to him. There’s an ache in my chest at the sight of them. At the sight of Simon, in my house. Part of my family holiday.

Part of my family.

It takes my breath away to think that something I’ve desperately wanted for so very long is right within my grasp.

Simon  

I don’t know why I’d let myself have such a panic at the start of dinner. Baz’s family is easier to interact with than Agatha’s, which is a bit of a stunner.

I always felt like I put Mrs. Wellbelove on edge, like she wasn’t sure I’d know how to act at dinner or how to behave when they’d take me to the Club or at the parties they’d have at their home. She was kind but almost wary. It made me fidgety, and then I’d just stumble over my words more or bump into something and generally make a nuisance of myself.

Fiona’s still scary as hell, but she’d been unexpectedly benign tonight. Other than that bit at dinner she hadn’t done much more than give me long, contemplative stares. Then she’d look at Baz and go all soft.

I’d kissed Baz goodnight, after story time with Magnus. He’d walked me to my room, a wistful expression on his face. I know it’s only been two nights, but it’s going to feel odd not sharing a bed with him.

I’m all tucked into the massive four poster bed when I first hear it. It sounds like a tap. I think it’s coming from the window. I pull the blanket up higher and burrow into the pillows.

Then it happens again. It’s more of a scratch this time.

I’d thought about the house being haunted when we first drove up but I hadn’t quite anticipated it to live up to that expectation.

The scratching sound comes again. I’m doing my best to ignore it. I do some deep breathing exercises and dive all the way under the blankets.

It’s not long before I get beastly hot. I run warm as it is and this bed has layers of covers on it. I’m roasting under here.

I poke my head out and shove the covers down. Silence.

Maybe I was imagining it.

I’m just getting comfortable, close to dozing off, when it happens again.

It’s not a tap this time. It’s a whoosh against the window and then a thump right outside.

And then I hear what sounds like a moan.

I’m contemplating making a runner down the hall to Baz’s room.

When the moaning sound comes again I do just that.

Baz

I’m finding it hard to settle in. I’m still functioning on New York time. I put another log on the fire, even though it’s already blazing hot. I pull a book from the shelf and curl up at the far end of the sofa, closest to the fireplace.

My bed looks far too big tonight. I mentally chide myself. I’ve had two nights sharing with Simon and I’m already pining for him, even though he’s just down the hall. It’s pathetic, really.

I’m only a few pages in when a knock comes on the door. I’m in no frame of mind for a heart to heart with anyone at the moment and certainly not a salacious inquiry from Fiona.

It’s Simon. His hair is in complete disarray, his face is flushed and he looks on edge.

“What’s the matter?”

“I can’t stay in there, Baz. I knew this place was haunted, as soon as I laid eyes on it.”

“What are you on about? The house isn’t haunted.”

Simon shakes his head. “My room is.”

I’d be tempted to suspect this was a ploy to inveigle himself into my room if he didn’t look so anxious.

“Baz, I’m telling you. There’s something moaning just outside, banging on the window and all.” His brow is furrowed and he’s jutting his chin out. Classic Snow expression.

“Show me.”

“I’m not going back in there.”

I sigh. “Simon.”

He’s got that obstinate expression I fell in love with now, all stubbornness and determination. Fucking gorgeous.  He shakes his head in answer.

“Fine. I’ll go see what’s got your knickers in a twist.” I take off down the hall towards his room and he’s right behind me. I give him a sidelong glance. “I thought you weren’t going back in there.”

“I’m not. But I’m not going to let you swagger on down there and then come back and tell me it was nothing.”

“It is nothing. And I don’t swagger.”

“Like hell you don’t.”

I step into his room while he stands in the doorway. It’s completely silent. “You see, Simon, no ghouls, no ghosts, no mysterious moaning wraiths.”

“Just you wait a minute. You’ll hear it.”

I raise an eyebrow and he growls in response. I stand, arms crossed, leaning against the bedpost. Simon takes a few tentative steps into the room and moves to stand next to me.

There’s a scrape at the window and then a muffled thump.

“There!” Simon looks triumphant. “I told you!”

I try to stifle my laughter but I can’t. It bubbles out of me, despite the irritated expression on his face.  

“What are you laughing at, you posh toff? I told you it’s haunted.”

I manage to pull myself together. “It’s not.”

There’s another sound just then and Simon points at the window defiantly. “What’s that moaning then?”

I can’t help it. I’m clutching the bedpost. “You poor sod. It’s a bloody owl.”

“What do you mean it’s a bloody owl?”

“Just that. It’s an owl. Likely a barn owl, from the sound of it. They’ve been known to roost in the chimneys from time to time.”

“You’re telling me all that racket, that moaning, is a sodding owl?” He’s incredulous.

He’s also fucking incandescent at the moment, full of righteous indignation, curls falling over his forehead, eyes blazing. He’s like a magnet, pulling me across the room until I’m right behind him, sliding my arms around his waist and dropping my chin onto his shoulder. “You’re in the country now, city boy.”

He scoffs but his hands drop to where mine are clasped around his waist. “A fucking owl. I feel like a complete berk.” Simon’s fingers slide up and down my forearms, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. He lets his head fall back, his neck exposed. I ghost my lips up to his jawline. He makes a small, satisfied sound and his eyes close.

His breathing speeds up as my mouth continues to slide along the planes of his skin. He shifts in my arms and then Simon is facing me, mouth reaching up to meet my own. Fingers slide into my hair and I grasp his hips and pull him closer.

He pulls back, just enough space between us for him to form words. “I think this whole experience has me rattled. I don’t know how I could possibly sleep in here on my own.” The roguish expression on his face contradicts what he’s murmuring to me but I don’t care.

“I couldn’t possibly expect you to tolerate such disturbances to your beauty sleep, Simon. Seems I’ll have to offer you my bed and rough it on the sofa for the night.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” His fingers tighten in my hair.

“You’re offering to take the sofa? That’s quite gallant of you.” I can’t help grinning at him.

“You are such a wanker.”

“Say it.”

“Say what?”

“Say what you want, Simon.” It comes out a whisper.

He whispers back. “You.”

Simon

We’re far quieter going back to Baz’s room, stealthily making our way down the hallway. Baz shuts his door slowly, so it doesn’t make a sound.

He takes my hand and pulls me towards the sofa. I sink down next to him but then let myself slide down onto the floor. “Come here.”

Baz looks puzzled but he follows suit, shifting off the sofa until he’s seated next to me.

“I liked this, the other night.” I put my arm around his shoulder and pull him close. Baz tilts his head and I surge up to meet his lips, the drag and push of our mouths and tongues sending a wave of heat through me.

It could just be the blaze in the fireplace but I don’t think so. Baz makes me feel like there’s fire coursing through my veins, sizzling just under my skin. Like I could go fucking supernova just from his touch.

I’ve got him on his back moments later, me on all fours above him, sinking down to kiss him and then pulling back, making him reach for me.

He does, every time.

I pull back with a grin one more time and it’s his turn to growl. Before I know it, he’s pounced on me and dragged me down, pushing me to the carpet and then he stills, resting on one arm, face hovering above my own.  

He’s beautiful. I think I always knew how attractive Baz was but I never let myself admit it. Not until now. He’s stunning in the firelight, shadows and light playing across his face, eyes shining silver in the glow of the fire, skin like dark honey.

His expression’s serious now. I reach out to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “What is it, Baz?”

“I go back to New York in a week.”

I nod. “I know.”

“You don’t . . . you don’t have to go tomorrow, if you don’t want to.”

My heart’s thumping in my chest. I’m not due back at the care home until Monday. “You sure? I know your family’s missed you, Baz. I’m sure they don’t want to have me hanging around another day.”

“I do.” He leans down to kiss me again, gentle and slow this time. “I’d have you stay here all week, if I could.”

I shake my head. “I’d take you up on that, if I didn’t have to be back at work on Monday.”

Baz’s hand comes to rest on my chest, fingers tracing the patterns on my pyjamas.  “I could head to London, meet you for dinner, before I go?”

“I’d like that.”

His brow creases. “You really want to do this, Simon? This long-distance thing?”

I nod my head. “I’d like to try. Penny and Micah did it for years. You’ll be back when? May? That’s not too long.”

“It’s five months. That’s too fucking long.”

It is too fucking long. I don’t tell him that. “There’s texts and phone calls and facetime. I’m not fussed about it.”

“I want this.” There’s a determination in his voice. It sends a thrill through me to hear it, to hear him say that about me.

“I want it too. More than I ever realized.”

“Stay tomorrow. I can drive you home tomorrow night or we can leave early Monday morning.”

I laugh. “I’ve got to get home before I go to work, Baz. I’ve got holiday clothes, not work clothes, in my bag.”

He waves his hand dismissively. “You can borrow something of mine.”

“I don’t fit your trousers. You told me so yourself.”

He’s leaning closer now, mouth hovering above mine again. “We’ll manage.”

Baz

I don’t know what time it is. I’ve been on the floor, kissing Simon Snow until my lips feel bruised.

“We should get to bed. This floor isn’t doing either of us any good.”

Simon goes up on one elbow and looks at my bed. “Don’t the gargoyles creep you out?”

“What? No, I don’t even notice them anymore.”

“Ha! They did creep you out at one point then.”

I shrug. Christ, what is with me? “I found them a little unnerving when I was young. But that was years ago. They’re just part of the décor.”

“Vampire Gothic.”

“It’s Victorian.”

“Fine, Victorian vampire lair then.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s vintage.”

Simon laughs. He darts another look at the bed. “They’re so many eyes. I’d feel like I was being watched the whole time.”

“Watched doing what?”

He raises an eyebrow at me suggestively.  I can feel my face start to burn. Memories of the summer after fifth year come to mind. And the summer after that. And . . . fuck it all.

I clear my throat. “You can’t see them when the lights are off.”

He juts out his chin. “I’d still know they were there.”

“You are impossible.”

“Just grab a pillow and we’ll make do here.”

“Simon, I am not going to sleep on the floor of my room when I have a serviceable and dare I say exceptionally comfortable bed just steps away.”

He looms over me, eyes wide, hovering just above my face. “A bed with a hundred weird eyes.”

I huff. “Fine.” I bring myself to my feet and march across the room to grab two pillows from the bed. I toss them across the room at him. He catches one but the other comes so rapidly that it hits him right in the face.

“Arse.”

“Coward.”

I grin at him and pull the comforter off the bed as well. I cross the room to him. “Come on, then. I suppose I’ll have to keep you company, since the owls and gargoyles unnerve you so much.”

“Come on where?”

“The sofa, you numpty. I told you I’m not sleeping on the floor.” All the furniture in my room is massive. We should manage just fine on the sofa, if a little snug. I have no complaints about that.

Simon comes to a stand as well. I take the pillows and push them to one end, up against the armrest. “This will have to do, I suppose.” I wave a hand at the pillows.

He takes the hint. He stretches out on the sofa, head pillowed on his arm, face bathed in the light of the fire, tawny gold and bronze. He’s a vision, straight out of one of my fantasies.

I sit and then slowly let myself drop down against the sofa cushions and the heat of Simon. I mirror his position, facing the fire. He curls himself around me, arm resting over my waist and then he tugs me closer. I can feel his breath on my neck, shivers going through me at the sensation, his chest pressed against my back.

I’m in Simon Snow’s arms. There’s nowhere I’d rather be.

Simon  

I breathe in the scent of his hair and gently touch my lips to his neck. I’m tired. I can barely keep my eyes open but I don’t need to see to do this, to touch Baz, to nuzzle against his neck and spoon myself around him.

He pulls the blanket over us and rests his hand on mine. I push my fingers up to twine with his. I wonder if he can feel my heart pounding. I can feel the flutter of his pulse under my lips.

As small sigh escapes me as I drop my head onto his shoulder. Baz’s cold feet tangle with mine but I don’t pull them away.

This feels so right. He’s the only familiar thing in this room and he’s the one thing I want to hold onto, for as long as I can.

I fall asleep to the sound of his breathing.

Baz

The sun is streaming into the room by the time I wake up. I’m still in the circle of Simon’s arms, his breath still warm and regular on my neck. I could stay here all day, crammed together in the confines of my sofa.

I’m just going to revel in this moment.

I’ve nothing to do today. Boxing Day is usually quiet at my house. Father and Daphne never make plans. They know the children are rabid to play with their new toys and any other venture would be fraught with drama. Now that Daphne finally succumbed to letting them get a video game console I’m sure they’ll be glued to it all day, with a few breaks for squabbles and snacks.

I’ll steer clear.

I mentally run through my checklist for the week. I’ve made tentative plans to see Dev and Niall. I’ll likely spend at least one night at Fiona’s. We’ll sit around and watch 80’s films, drink a lot of wine and eat chocolate. It’s tradition.

Simon’s going to be working, come Monday. And I’ll be leaving on New Year’s Eve. To get back to New York in time to be at work bright and early January second. Americans truly have no regard for family time or holidays. It’s brutal. Two weeks’ vacation a year and I already burned through most of the first week at the end of the summer and this week will take me through the second.

I won’t get a chance to come back until May or after.

Five fucking months.

I’ll drive up to London, meet him for dinner, find some way to be with him before I have to leave again.

Simon stirs against my back and the arm across my waist tightens. “Stop thinking so hard.”

“I’m not thinking.” I am. I’ve got a million thoughts spinning through my head.

“You are. I can practically feel you ticking things off on your fingers.”

I can’t help but laugh. He’s right. It’s unnerving how well he reads me, how he can sense my thoughts, my discomfort.

But I know him too. I know what to expect when he juts his chin out, when he balls his fists at his side, when he tilts his head as if he’s listening to something just out of range. When his eyes blaze, when they soften, when he pulls at the curls on his head.

I’ve watched the moods of Simon Snow for so very long that each one is familiar to me.

Each one except the new ones that make my skin tingle and my heart pound in my chest. The fond looks, the tender gestures, the way his eyes rest on me and make me feel like I am the center of his world.

Simon’s kissing my neck now and I shift in his arms so I’m facing him, reaching up to sink my hands in his hair.

“I’m going to miss you.” That’s not what I meant to say.

He kisses the tip of my nose. “I’m going to miss you too, but I don’t want to talk about that.” He leans in to brush his lips to mine. “It hurts to think about things I can’t have or can’t help.”

“You can have me.” Once again words leave my lips that I’d not intended to say. I mean them, with every fibre of my being, but I hadn’t meant to say them out loud.

He smiles that smile I’ve grown to love in the last few days. The one that makes me feel like it’s meant just for me.

“Not the way I’d like to but I’ll find a way to manage until May.”

I wish we were back at Ebb’s. A place where no one knows us, where the days are our own, where the nights come down to nothing but the two of us.

My lips find his once more. Simon’s fingers slip between the buttons of my pyjama shirt and come to rest against my stomach, gently rubbing against my skin, and I can't think of anything except his touch. Until a knock comes on the door, that is.

What I’d give for some sodding privacy.

I groan and come to a seated position. The knock comes again, louder this time.

“So help me, Baz, I’m going to walk in if you don’t open this door. You’ve had all night to shag your boyfriend or wank away to the thought of him. Open up. I’m leaving for London in an hour, you twat.”

Fuck. It’s Fiona.

She’s always got some bash to go to on Boxing Day. Watford friends. They all go drinking, slumming and clubbing in Covent Garden. It’s a whole scene. She’s wrecked for days after.

The knocking comes again and there’s a warning twist to the doorknob. I never even thought to lock it last night. Blast the woman.

“Hush.” I whisper to Simon and then I’m dashing across the room.

I open the door partway, positioning myself in the opening, effectively blocking all sight of him. “Sod off, Fiona. I’m still on the blasted New York clock.”

Fiona raises an eyebrow. She’s all kitted out for her day—black leather jacket, black mini-skirt with tights, her kick-ass black boots. Makeup on point, lipstick blood red. “Nice try, boyo, but your boyfriend forgot to close the door to his room last night. It’s empty and he’s nowhere to be found.”

She goes up on tiptoe to try to peek around me, a feral smile on her face. “Why don’t you invite me in for a little chat before I go?”

I think the hell not.

“I’ll meet you downstairs for breakfast.”

“It’s midday, you pillock. Almost one o’clock.”

It’s a bit of a standoff now. Fiona has a triumphant look on her face. She may have to leave in an hour but knowing her she’ll spend the whole sodding hour lurking about my room for confirmation that I’ve got Simon squirreled away in here.

I don’t dare look behind me at Simon. That will give the whole thing away. I lean out a bit and lower my voice. “I promise I’ll tell you everything when I come up on Wednesday.”

Her grin is exultant. “That means you’ve got something to tell me then.” She crosses her arms and leans against the doorframe.

Fuck.

I hear shuffling behind me. Blast it. I lean my head against the edge of the door. “Fiona. . .”

She’s beaming now and focused on something just over my left shoulder. I feel the heat of Simon before I turn my head for confirmation.

“Uh, hi?”

He’s standing right behind me and Fiona is grinning like a madwoman. “Good afternoon, Snow.”

Simon shuffles his feet and gives me an apologetic look. “I’ve got to use the loo. It seemed like you weren’t going to wrap this up too quick.”

“Yes, right.” I move aside and make room for Simon to sidle out the door. He gives Fiona a brief nod of the head and then he’s making a runner down the hallway.

Deserter.

The smug look on her face makes my skin flame. She shoves me in the chest and pushes into the room. “Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch I never thought you’d have it in you to shag your boyfriend in the venerable confines of Pitch Manor!”

“I’m not shagging him, you frightful wretch.” This is peak Fiona. She has no filter and absolutely no boundaries when it comes to privacy. It’s maddening and also comforting.

She was the first person I came out to. She took me out for my first night of clubbing. She was the first person I ever got drunk with. Fiona’s like a fairy godmother except more like Maleficent than the pastel trio. And lot more fun.

She takes in the sight of the rumpled bed linen and the pillows and comforter on the sofa and starts to laugh. “Jesus, Baz, you are such a Vestal virgin. Did you seriously make your boyfriend spend the night on your sofa?”

“Shut up, Fiona.”

She pulls me into her arms, her embrace as fierce and firm as ever. “You look happy, you besotted prick. So does he. Don’t fuck this up.” She takes my face in her hands and leans up, grey eyes dark and deliberate. “I mean it, Baz. You’ve got the capacity to talk yourself in circles.” She flicks my forehead with her index finger. “Don’t think so hard. Enjoy this. You finally have what you’ve wanted for so long.” She flicks me again. “Don’t. Fuck. It. Up.”

She squeezes the breath out of me and steps back to the door. “You can bring Snow if you want, on Wednesday.”

“I think that’s likely the best way to fuck it up, don’t you?”

Fiona laughs. “That gives me hope for you, you utter berk. Snog the hell out of him as long as you can and come around on Wednesday. I’ll have Breakfast Cluband Local Hero, more salt and vinegar crisps than you can inhale in a night, and enough wine to loosen even you up.”

I hug her back. “Thanks, Fiona.”

She’s out the door and I can hear her boots thumping down the stairs. Fiona’s a force of nature. I love her to bits but she comes on a bit strong. I think it’s best Simon’s only exposed to her in short bursts. Mordelia’s enough for one weekend.

I poke my head out and look down the corridor. Simon peeks out of his bedroom at the same time, eyes wide.

I shake my head at him. He doesn’t budge. “She’s gone.” I hiss it down the hall.

He shakes his head back, jaw jutting out. I sigh and make my way to his door. “She’s gone,” I repeat.

“That may be, but I’m not taking the chance on Mordelia or Magnus or anyone else coming to find you. That was more than enough for me.”

“Fiona’s just a lot of fuss and bother. Her bark’s worse than her bite.” “She’s fucking terrifying.” Simon’s face is flushed and he looks good enough to eat.

“You’ll get used to her.” I like the thought of that.

“Like getting used to a fucking cyclone.”

“She’s been on her best behaviour so far.”

“I’m doomed.” Simon’s brow is furrowed. I reach out a finger and smooth the lines on his forehead. His expression relaxes at my touch.

“You’re not doomed. It means she likes you.”

“I think the fuck not. She was glaring at me the whole night."

“That’s her fond glare. You’ll get used to it.”

Simon’s stomach chooses this moment to rumble loudly. “Alright, you nightmare. Get dressed. It’s obviously time to feed you again.” I lean in and press a kiss to his forehead. His fingers find mine and he pulls me close, a brush of lips before he pulls away. “Come to my room when you’re ready.”

[losnwit]

short story

She was always afraid, afraid to walk home alone, afraid of what people thought of her, afraid of being judge, lied to, and taken for granted ; her fear was the kind of fear where everything was over thought; and Her future is kind of unknown. She seem to be stuck in the same places with the same problems just different faces. But boy, She had a mouth on her, she was out spoken she wanted to make a difference but her fear overwhelmed her and when she spoke no one listened. She was extraordinary like those colorful flowers you can never remember the name of; I watched her sip her coffee and fake a smile pretending everything is fine, pretending she was happy with where her life was heading. Her name Is Kynon,  Kynon Acasa age 19 about 5'5, brown hair, and brown eyes. She believe she is nothing special, usually refers to her self as plain Jane; but when Ky enters a room with her head down and hiding her smile and those milky-way eyes people do not notice her. But as soon as Ky looks into someone eyes they tend to never forget how warm her presence is. Ky does not know I watch her from the shadows, she does not know of my world yet.  

She always takes the same way home from the coffee shop, she heads down oakland street, left on A1A her house  is on the right of the street; The blue one with the big front yard where she used to play in as a kid. I watch her from the roof top of Sir. Nickolas  house as these mundane call; He is a gentle mundane. Very old and very depressed since he just lost the love of his live. he has been slowly giving up - no one notice it because he is always smiling. But I can feel It ; It sad yet comforting because I too feel like him most times, that's why I watch her. From his roof top I have the perfect view, he lives just across the street from her. I notice as  her long brown curly hair start bouncing as she walks faster towards her house. I think she notice someone watching her, I think she notices me.

*phone buzzing* Picked up my phone to read the interrupting message.

Ralf: Hey, where are you Jake, Alice is going crazy looking for you!?

Oh, that's just great, mystery is over let me Introduce my self.

My name is Jacob Colville, but I am known as Jake. I am the prince of Acantha.

A hybrid.

man and demon.

*texted back*

Jake: tell that bitch to come down I'll be home soon, now stop bothering me and cover me until I get back.

Ralf Biliand, we grew up together. He is as close as a friend I could ever have.  a servant.

Like I was saying Ky noticed me, as she reaches her front door she look around desperately but doesn't see anyone, so she takes the key from her purse and opens the door and disappears inside and I head home to see what Alice my Step-Mother want.

---Three days later.---

*I am jacob pov

Walking down the street I spot Adian and Ky talking.

I wonder what that low life is up to with my Ky.

*I am aidan pov

One beautiful April morning, on a narrow side street in Acantha neighborhood, I walked past the perfect girl. Tell you the truth, she's not that good-looking. She doesn't stand out in any way. Her clothes are nothing special. The back of her hair is still bent out of shape from sleep. She is young, -must be in her teens, not even close to a "women," properly speaking. But still, She's perfect. The moment I see her, there's a rumbling in my chest, and my mouth is as dry as a desert. I had to stop her and say Hi! Aidan: hey

She stops and I was immediately lost in her brown eyes.

*I am Kynon pov

My heart is skipping a million times, this beautiful guy standing about 6'2ft blue Crystal eyes, he was a phantom of delight to look at, When he gleam'd upon me it set out a lovely apparition, scent. To be in a moment's ornament; his eyes shine like stars of twilight fair; Like twilight's, too, And now I see with eye serene, He is build like a machine; Endurance, strength, A perfect man. Some how I managed to say hi back.

Aidan: I'm Aidan, and you are?

No body I wanted to scream, why are you speaking to me I wanted to asked? But all I mumbled was

Ky: I am Ky.

*I Am Jacob pov

I watch as my beloved fumbled with her hair, gave him her best smile, I watched as my beloved giggled at his stupid jokes.

I CAN'T WATCH THIS ANYMORE, it is torture.

TO BE CONTINUED.

[flowercuco]

Fellowship 13 (Season Finale!?!?)

With the Dragon’s Eye retrieved, the party settles down to reap the spoils of their trials in the dragon temple in a special session that I took so long writing the summary for because when we did the session two of the players were visiting me! wow!!! 

Leading off of our previous session, Constellation, the leader of the dragon gives the party his Fellowship which we decide means that whenever they come to visit him, they can all use the Dragon’s Eye to get the answer to whatever question they want! Armistice takes the lead in the usage of the eye, dolling it out to the rest of the party, starting with Vapor.

Vapor gets to the point and asks what Augusta, her current rival for better or worse and Arturia’s newest general, and as per the mechanics of the eye sees through the eyes of Adrift, the dragon that Armistice visited while in the orc city. She sees very plainly and clearly Augusta demonstrating her MEOrcs, the magically enhanced warriors who answer to her, empowered by the now tragically stolen fire crystal. It is very clearly a political move on her part to elicit sympathy from the people, as wouldn’t it be nice if everyone had access to these magical powers, and to smear the fellowship. As Vapor didn’t run into one of these MEOrcs, she gets very upset by this revelation and after calming down a bit, starts to figure out how it works and how to deal with it.

Aisa wants to go next, but before she can, Armistice makes sure Aisa knows what Acantha, her past life, did to Arturia. Aisa doesn’t take it especially well, but Armistice tries to get the idea across that perhaps, Acantha accidentally caused the situation which got her killed. It’s questionable how well it goes. Aisa asks if people can change or if we are doomed to be our worst selves, and sees life through a dragon who changed a lot over their single life time, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly, sometimes for no reason at all, and gets a bit tired out from taking in such a large amount of information at once. 

Armistice takes the eye and asks why Arturia is enacting this plan, one that involves the apparent destruction of the civilisations on the surface, and sees a very small scene as one of the chimera’s from the first real adventure! Arturia tries and fails some rituals with the reactor core, she realises what the core is doing, how it is important to the creatures who live around it, and try as she might, can not use it to heal the wound on the world.

Theo gets straight to the point with their question, what is Arturia’s next move? From the perspective of a dragon living in elven society, Theo sees news about an important elven summit, a meeting between the two large elf groups to determine, among other things, the fate of their precious treasure, the Tidemother, the Wellspring of Life, the Ocean’s Soul, the cornerstone of elven society, the water crystal. 

Emboldened by Augusta’s actions, Vapor takes the eye again, although the strain of using the eye twice in a row is felt on one of her weapons, which thematically burns. How can orcs use magic without the use of the fire crystal? In a twist of fate, Vapor sees through Morning’s eyes, Armistice’s previous life, and sees the moment that she left the emperor for good, seeing orc experimentation empowered by the blood of dragons, as well as seeing before the empire made the orcs, seeing creatures similar, but different, doing magic empowered by their blood as well.  

Aisa’s second use of the eye is a bit petty, but no less important, she asks how she knows who to trust, and sees a vision of Armistice and Vapor as Constellation, from just a few hours ago when she and Theo ran off to speed ahead of Mordred. She sees them speak plainly and clearly about the importance of keeping them safe, and helping them all. Aisa decides to... attempt to patch things up with Mordred, saying that she saw a lot of things, is less sure about her convictions, and doesn’t apologise, but says that Mordred isn’t as bad as she thought he was. Mordred accepts the non-apology and holds out his hand to shake hers. Neither of them know how to shake hands so they just high-five.

Armistice asks the eye a deep question, if she can save Arturia. The answer is heavy, and through the eyes of her own daughter, she sees yet another moment in time that shaped the events that they grapple with today. Katarina and Arturia argue over their duty, the world, what they have done, and in the end, it leads to Arturia leaving Katarina’s side. Katarina realizes that this would be the last conversation she has with Arturia for a while, and Armistice realizes this is the last conversation the two ever had. Arturia could have been saved by Katarina, but that is not what happened and Armistice can not save her. This vision is trying on Armistice, who hadn’t seen her daughter in over a hundred years and who needs to believe that Arturia deserves a second chance, after all, she’s the reason that she’s even still alive.

As the group shares some of this information that they have gathered, Armistice asks if Mordred is going to use the eye. He doesn’t want to, not now, not anymore, and is not swayed away from thinking otherwise. Theo, who would have liked to know more about Mordred’s origins, decides then to use the eye to ask about Arturia’s weakness. They see through Arturia’s eyes and witness her using a ritual to create Mordred. Initially, he is half formed, incomplete, and unstable, but when she finally manages to perfect him, she realizes that she can no longer touch him without feeling pain. Theo decides they need to dwell on this, doesn’t tell the group, and definitely doesn’t tell Mordred that he could be the key to killing his own mother.

Armistice goes in for a third question, and pays a hefty price to learn the secret of Mordred’s origin. Katarina developed a ritual for Arturia to perform with her, so that they could make a child together. Arturia did not find it until well after her death, and also after Acantha tried and failed to kill her. Arturia, in a desperate sorrow, performed the ritual using her own blood as well as the remains of the emperors body that persisted above the reactor core. What was supposed to be a symbol of her love was corrupted by Arturia’s contempt for humanity, the ritual was tainted, and Arturia unknowingly drew some of the emperors soul into Mordred. It dwells deep within him. Armistice does not like this, and does not tell anyone else in the fellowship.

Theo also pays the requisite price for a third question and asks if their people, the Drow, will be save when Arturia’s plan is complete. They see a completely normal day in drow society. Their people will not see any grand changes if Arturia succeeds.

As the group dwells on their gained knowledge, Constellation requests that Armistice joins him elsewhere, to speak on important matters and also see why dragons are reincarnating less and less. After he uses the dragons eye he looks defeated and weary. Fearful of making society changing choices, accidentally making things worse, and in general, falling into a fate similar to Morning (married and legitimised a tyrant who experimented even on dragons)  or Alight (lost to the drow as their society went through an upheaval), dragons who have died recently felt that the world was changing, on a cliff’s edge, just, generally unstable, and did not want to be the one who pushed the world off. 

Constellation blames himself and his role as the leader of the dragons (name to be decided later) as why this has happened, and pleads with Armistice to take on his mantle when he passes. Armistice, having caused some of the doubt that dragons hold, says that she doesn’t deserve it clearly, that she’s burnt out and not capable of leading anyone. Constellation disagrees, cupping some of his flame in his hand and putting Armistice’s scales inside of it. In his flame they shine once again, Armistice has led the fellowship, she could lead the dragons as well, if only she could forgive her own actions and look forward.

Meanwhile, Vapor asks the fellowship if she missed any encounters when they stole the fire crystal in the university, and though Califax attempts to keep it a secret, Theo doesn’t want this to be a weapon that hurts the fellowship. They tell Vapor about the weakness of the MEOrcs, and how in an attempt to cut one off from his source of power, he killed him. Vapor asks if Theo would have still done what they did if they knew that it would result in a painful immolation, Theo says no, but decides to keep quiet about how they would have just killed him in a less painful way. Aisa says that as the orc was in Augusta’s employ, he kinda deserved it, her way of comforting them.

Armistice returns at this point with news of Constellations request, to which Aisa immediately asks if Armistice accepted or not. When she says that she hasn’t, Vapor, avoiding the topic of hers and Armistice’s feelings, says that theres time to think things through. Finally, as the group leaves, Armistice asks what Mordred is going to do. He decides to stay in the dragon monastery with Constellation, to learn things about himself before going out to learn about the world once more. Armistice hugs him and ruffles his hair because SHES HIS FUCKING GRANDMOTHER AND SHE CAN. 

After this, I zoned out while Vapor and Armistice talked about their FUCKING relationship. Armistice went to visit Vapor only to see her experimenting on her own blood. The ensuing conversation was about a lot of stuff, and it was gay and good, and also involved Armistice telling Vapor that the librarian dragon she met the other day, Silent, also definitely had feelings for Vapor. Hassle @misanthrobot or @foursight for more details on this conversation.

With that done, the fellowship travels to the elven summit to stop Arturia from acquiring the water crystal. The fellowship is more informed than ever, but Arturia’s forces are ever growing. Will they be enough to stop the overlord, what dangers await them en route, and what new threats will start to make themselves known? The world is wounded, of that there is no doubt, but can they heal it? The dual blows of having the fire crystal and having Mordred leave Arturia’s army is great, but will it be enough? And whats this? Word of another hero willing and ready to join ranks on Constellation’s Drift? Who could this new potential member of the fellowship be? 

Can’t wait to start planning for season two of this game!!!

[operator-ator-blog]

Do You Remember?

Do you remember?

As his eyes fluttered open Ator was greeted by a blinding light and the feeling of cold metal against his skin. Where was he? How long had he been asleep? No, the better question was why had he been asleep. Ator didn’t remember going to sleep, but now here he was.

“Looks like it’s awake,” an unfamiliar voice spoke out, it was somewhere off to his side, “should we put it back asleep?”

“Awake, asleep, it doesn’t matter. This void demon has no feelings.”

Who were these people talking? Ator tried to move his head to no avail. Was he restrained? So he tried to speak out, but something blocked his mouth. What was going on?

The light overhead dimmed, allowed Ator’s vision to focus. At first everything was a blur, but before long he was able to make out the ivory walls adorned with gold. It was an Orokin room, that was for sure, but it didn’t tell him why he was in it. Then THEY started to stand over him, human figures finally in his field of vision.

They stood over him clad in clean white, their faces were all covered by masks but he could tell they were looking down on him. Ator’s green eyes flashed from one to the other, taking in their details to try to get a grasp on the situation. They were Orokin, that was something he was sure of, and they all gave off an air of superiority. As his eyes moved from one body to another he was able to catch glimpses of metal tools in some of their hands, sharp instruments ready to use. What were they going to use them on? His question was swiftly answered.

A sharp blade dragged across his chest, a muffled scream tried to escape from the young Tenno. Warmth spilled out onto his skin, a contrast to the cold at his back which could be assumed to be a surgical table of sorts. These were Orokin doctors and they were performing some kind of surgery! Why? Another scalpel cut into his flesh and more blood spilled out. What had he done to deserve this? What were they doing? More and more questions, but still no answers.

The pain was intense and warm tears flowed freely down his cheeks. His body tensed with each new incision they made. Then the cutting stopped and all Ator could hear was his own frantic breathing as his heart pounded against his ribs. Then there were footsteps, almost like the sound of heels against the pristine floors, and they were drawing closer.

“Come to see our progress, ma’am?” Ator tried to focus his blurry vision when the male doctor spoke.

“I’ve paid you a hefty amount of platinum to make me the perfect Yuvan,” an older, female voice spoke now, “so of course I’m going to check your progress.”

“Is everything to your liking so far?”

Ator had to strain his neck against his restraints just to catch a glimpse of the woman that was speaking. She had to be middle aged, with green eyes that examined Ator that showed an unamused glare. Her skin was a dark color, as if kissed by the sun, and her face round. With a scowl on her lips and the way her black hair was set atop her head in a bun, she came off as very stern. She put off a regal air that everyone that Ator could see seemed to take note of, keeping their distance from her almost as if they feared her.

“Come here,” she motioned to the one of the doctors with her finger.

“Is something wrong, Madam Acantha?”

“This here,” she did a circular motion with her finger while pointing at something on Ator, “why is it still here?”

“You mean its genitals?” The doctor seemed confused. “The male genitals didn’t seem to-”

The doctor didn’t finish his statement before the Orokin known as Madam Acantha slapped him hard, sending the doctor to the floor. “Do I look like a man to you? Give my Yuvan the proper reproductive system, I do wish to have children some day. Do as you are told or you will find yourself strapped to a table and under my knife. Am I clear?’

A unanimous “Yes ma’am” came from all present in the room besides Ator. He could only look up at this frightening woman and when her eyes met his a deep chill went down his spine.

“Don’t waste any more of my time.” Those were her last words before she turned and left Ator’s vision.

There was an unsettling chill in the room after the woman left. Though it wasn’t long before the doctor’s got back to their job. Once more scalpels began to dance across his pale flesh and Ator’s body was wracked with pain. With each new cut his vision began to blur and he couldn’t focus much longer. Ator could feel tugging on his skin before it was cut and everything faded to black. So many questions left unanswered as the darkness consumed him and numbed the pain.

Ator shot up in a cold sweat, his eyes wide as he looked around the dark room. It took a moment for his vision to adjust but once it did he found himself looking around his room. No longer was he on a cold table, but in his own bed with Natia asleep beside him. As he began to calm down his eyes focused more on her sleeping form.

He reached out to her, wanting to make sure she was actually there; that he was actually awake. As his hand reached into the darkness he could see that his ring finger and pinky were missing, or at least his golden prosthetics. Natia always made him take those off before bed, she didn’t like the way they felt. So this was real, he was awake.

In her sleep Natia rolled away from his touch, revealing her bare shoulder to them. With what little he could see, Ator could make out the scar on her shoulder. The sight of him made him draw his hand back. It made him remember what he had done to her when he had lost control; how he had tore into the one he cared for so deeply like she were nothing but food.

Do you remember?

That voice rang out loudly in his head. Of course he remembered, how could he ever forget? The things he had done when he lost control. What he had done to those he called his allies; his friends. That wasn’t something someone could simply forget. Ator remembered all too well the monster her was, and it disgusted him.

He needed to clear his mind.

Ator had dressed to train, his normal tattered, red skirt clung to his waist and his golden cuffs that adorned both his ankles and wrists shined bright. Like a machine he moved between each training dummy hitting them each in a rhythmic pattern. As he moved blood flowed freely from underneath his cuffs. The voices had become too much and he needed the pain to help clear his mind.

Do you remember everything you’ve done to them?

All the people he had hurt in the past, all of the blood on his hands. So many people had fallen to him, his weapons, and his Saryn. Countless lives snuffed out without any hesitation, but the ones that haunted him were of those that had never deserved it. The lives he had snuffed out back on the Zariman all the way up to now. How many lives had he ended before they had reached their prime?

As the thoughts welled up inside his mind his movements became more aggressive. The training dummies were starting to crack with each of his hits. The look in his gold and green eyes became more intense as rage formed. It was starting to spill over.

Wasn’t their pain delicious? You enjoyed it so much.

“Shut up!” He shouted as he swung his hardest at one of the dummies.

The dummy’s head came off immediately and shattered against the wall by the entrance which hung open. Standing in the doorway was a thin female in a Red Veil suit. Her head was bald and two golden horns protruded from her forehead. She looked to Ator with a smile and only kindness showed in her blue eyes.

“I just walked into the room and already telling me to shut up? What did I do now, big bro?”

Ator looked to the female and gritted his teeth. Slowly his composure came back to him as he looked to the female. “What do you want, Vena? Are the Red Veil not sending you after any good targets so you feel the need to pester me?”

Without fear the female walked up to Ator, giving him a playful punch in the chest. “Would I be a good sister if I didn’t pester you that often? Besides, you seemed really troubled.” She stopped and looked at the dummies Ator had been beating on. “For the sake of the Shattered Court’s training dummies I feel I should intervene.”

“It’s of no matter to you, Vena. Matters of the past.”

“You’re having nightmares again, let me help-”

“I don’t need your help!” He flung his weapon to the wall, embedding it into the metal from the strength of his rage.

Vena looked to him in silence, looking him over as his breathing grew heavy. She moved towards the staff, pulling it from the wall with relative ease before giving it a twirl. The silence between them was intense, filled with negative emotion. To fill the silence she tapped the staff against the wall three, slow times. The sound alone seemed to stir something up in Ator, he looked to Vena with a look that said he felt at ease and held great sorrow.

“Do you remember that sound? What it meant to me on the Zariman?”

Ator balled his fist tightly until his nails dug into his flesh, fresh blood dripping down to the floor around his bare feet. “How can I forget? I will always remember, Vena.”

“Do you really remember, Ator? I honestly don’t think you do.”

“How could I ever forget my time trapped on that damned ship?!” His rage finally spilled over as his shouts echoed. “Though I saved you I am the reason you arm was ripped from your body! I could have killed you!”

Vena flinched at his words, her hand going to grip her left arm tightly. “WHat I’m trying to tell you, Ator, is that we all have nightmares that haunt us. Every Tenno does.” When her blue eyes fell on Ator once more, she looked deeply troubled. “You are not alone. You’ve built an entire organization around helping the Tenno, why not let the Tenno help you?”

Ator had to look away, his rage subsiding. “I don’t know how to ask for help…”

Vena let out a sigh before leaning the staff against the wall. “I’m always gonna be here to help you. Just come ask me for it yourself when you figure out how.”

WIth those words she left, leaving Ator alone once more. His mind was now wild with new thoughts, the demons at bay once more. For now at least. Now all he was left to do was to remember, but instead of remembering the atrocities of the past he remembered all the people who have joined by his side. Those that he called his allies, his friends.

His family.

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

Chapter 11 of Can’t Find My Way Home is up!!! A few more chapters of this left! Read the entire fic at Ao3!

Chapter 11

Baz

It’s going too fast. Every minute is passing too quickly. I can’t even let myself savor it.

Well, I’m savoring the sensation of Simon in my arms. The warm weight of him resting against me. The scent of him. Like bacon and freshly baked cinnamon rolls. Something I’d gladly eat.

Neither of us bothered to sleep on this leg of the trip. I think we both sense our time together is drawing to a close. There’s no point wasting it napping.

Not when we can be cuddling and surreptitiously snogging instead. It’s mostly forehead kisses and brushing my lips through his curls when he buries his face in my neck this time.

It’s not any less romantic or passionate. It’s just softer, slower, a cherishing of every memory I’m making with him so I can revisit them all later, when he’s not by my side anymore.

I’ve not asked him to come home with me yet. I keep meaning to, and then I just can’t find the words.

It should be easy. “Would you like to come home with me for Christmas, Simon?”really shouldn’t be that hard to articulate. I’m being a coward.

We’re making our final descent to London now and I’m making sure Simon is adequately distracted. I’m careful not to leave a mark on his neck. If I’m bringing him home to meet my parents I can’t quite have him show up looking like the victim of a vampire attack, now can I?

The plane taxis to the gate but neither of us rush to stand up. I’m holding Simon’s hand and he’s gazing at me, blue eyes warm and comforting, but there’s something wistful there too.

I should ask him now. I’m just about to speak when he looks away and gives a small laugh. “We should probably get off the plane, we’re practically the only ones left.” Simon’s hand slips out of mine to unbuckle his belt, then he stands, shouldering his pack. “Come on, then, Baz. You’re going to make it for Christmas dinner with your family after all.”

It’s the perfect opening so I trample down my apprehension and just blurt it out, none of the artfully worded invitations I had rehearsed in my head coming to me now.

“Come with me.”

Simon tilts his head, eyebrows coming together in question. I stand up, sling my bag over my shoulder, and take his hand in mine again. “Come home with me, I mean. For Christmas.” I swallow. “Please?”

His eyes widen. It would be comical, how astonished he looks, if I wasn’t wracked with apprehension about his answer. I tighten my grip on his hand, my words having left me for good it seems. Why should it be so surprising that I want to keep him with me?

“It’s your family, Baz. I . . .  I shouldn’t . . . I wouldn’t want to intrude.” He’s just saying that. I know he’s just saying that. I couldn’t have been imagining that spark of interest just now.

I move closer to him. We’re jammed together in the narrow aisle, the flight attendant at the far end of the aeroplane giving us a quizzical look. The cleaning crew has already boarded at the front. I don’t care. They can sod off. This is more important.

“You wouldn’t be intruding. I want you there.” I close my eyes and drop my head. I have no shame left in me. I’ve confessed so many secrets to him today, what’s one more? “I may have already told my stepmother I was bringing someone home.”

I love the way Simon laughs. The way his nose scrunches up when he does, the deep-throated rumble of it. I don’t think I could ever tire of hearing it.

“You daft git. You decided to wait until practically the last minute to ask me?”

“Well, I could have waited until we reached the ground transport area but I thought that would be pushing it a bit.”

He drops my hand in favor of cupping my face with both of his. He’s so close I can feel his breath ghost over my lips. “Well, when you put it that way, how could I say no? Can’t disappoint your stepmum now, can I?”

The smile on his face dazzles me. The warmth of his gaze envelops me and all my trepidation melts away. “No, not when she’s already made up the spare room and all.”

He laughs again, then reaches down to grip my hand once more to tug me down the aisle to the exit.

Heathrow is deserted. The Christmas decorations sparkle and gleam around us as we walk through the terminal hand in hand to reach the bus transport. “There’s no easy way to get home from here, not without a car.” I give Simon a side-long look. “This adventure of ours wouldn���t be quite complete without some time on buses and trains, don’t you think?”

“The company’s tolerable so I suppose I’ll survive it somehow.” He’s grinning at me.

It takes a few minutes to find the bus to Woking. Once we make our way there we’ll catch the train to Alton. Father’s offered to collect us from there.

It’s quite decent of him. I’d offered to hire a taxi from the station but he wouldn’t hear of it. “You’ve suffered enough of the vagaries of public transport, Basilton. I’m sure you’ll both be exhausted. I’ll just meet you at the station, shall I? Text me when you get to Woking. That will give me a chance to get to Alton in time.”

We board the bus and Simon insists on taking the window seat. “You get cold too easily, let me sit there.” He slides in and I follow, dropping my satchel at our feet and leaning my head back with a sigh. He nudges my shoulder. “Almost there, Baz. Almost there.”

We spend the ride talking about my family. Simon’s met Father, Daphne and Fiona, thanks to our shared accommodations at school, but this will be the first time he meets my siblings.

“Four? You can’t be serious? You’ve got four siblings?”

I tick them off on my fingers. “Mordelia, Acantha, Ophelia, and Magnus. Be warned. Mordelia is full of snark and attitude. She’s twelve going on twenty-five. Jaded and bitter for her age.”

“Wonder where she gets that from?” Simon says smugly.

I bump his shoulder. “Hush. I’m giving you useful information here. Don’t interrupt with slanderous commentary.” I press my knee against his and then leave it there. I like the sensation of our legs touching. “Ophelia and Acantha are twins and they adore confusing people. Knowing them, they’ll have chosen to wear matching outfits just so they can bewilder you. The giveaway will be Acantha tucking her hair behind her left ear. Watch for that and you’ll confound them.”

“And your brother?”

“Stop interrupting, you nightmare. I’m getting to him. Magnus will either hide behind me for the entirety of the evening and then demand you tell him bedtime stories or he’ll cling to you from the start and you’ll be pressed into service giving him piggy-back rides down the halls after dinner.” I take his hand again. “Far better you than me. I’m sure he’s heavier than he was in the summer.”

“They sound brilliant.”

I roll my eyes. “How could I forget--you actually enjoyinteracting with children.”

He laughs again. “From the sound of it, so do you. Not that you’d ever let on, though, you numpty.”

His face grows more serious a moment later. “Baz. I’ve just realized. I’m sure your family does the whole posh thing, dressing up for Christmas dinner. Not to sound like a whiny fourteen-year-old girl, but I haven’t got a thing to wear.” He gestures at his duffel bag.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure they aren’t expecting us to dress up, considering the time we’ve had getting here in the first place.”

He nods and gives me a meaningful look. “I’d not say no to a shower, mind you. It feels like we left Ebb’s ages ago.”

It doesn’t to me.

To me, this day has been progressing as if someone clicked the fast forward button and hasn’t let up.

I glance at my watch. There should be time for us to clean up, once we get home. “I think we can manage that.” I drum my fingers on the armrest, as I mentally run through the contents of my wardrobe. “I’m sure you can borrow something of mine to wear. For dinner.” I doubt any of my suits will fit him but I’m sure to have a jumper or two that might work.

His eyebrows go up. “I doubt I’ll fit any of your posh togs. You’ve at least three inches on me and I’ve likely got a stone on you.”

I eye him up and down, arch one eyebrow and smirk. “That you do.”

“Oh, shut up.” He’s flushed all the way to the tips of his ears now. I love it.

I drop my head on his shoulder and lean into him. “Solid. I like that.”

“I hate you.”

“Liar.”

He laughs again and rests his head on mine.

I’m not worried about what he wears to dinner. My family will love Simon, even if he wears a hoodie and trackies to the meal.

I love him.

Fuck.

It’s true. I’ve never actually managed to fall out of love, not after all these years. If anything, these past few days have made me fall even morein love with him.

I’m so fucked.

And that’s when the realization strikes. Daphne and Father know I’m bringing Simon, my former roommate, home. They assume I’m bringing a friendhome for Christmas. Because that’s what I said when I called.

But I’m not really, am I? I’m bringing the boy I love home to meet the family but I’m not quite prepared to make that declaration before the Christmas pudding is served.

Which means all this touching, holding hands, kissing—what do I do about that? I don’t particularly want to stop but it’s not quite the thing to engage in these types of public displays of affection around my family.

I don’t know what to do. I could say something to Simon, I suppose, but that’s rubbish, isn’t it? It would hurt his feelings, I’ve no doubt about that.

I could somehow explain to Father and Daphne but that’s an excruciating thought in itself. Not just the explaining, but the chance that they’d be frightfully and embarrassingly chuffed about the whole thing.

I’m not sure I could tolerate that.

Christ, is Fiona going to be there tonight?

Under no circumstances am I going to tolerate Fiona making suggestive commentary about Simon in his presence. Or asking if I’m getting laid, God forbid.

Right. I should say something to Simon.

But what?

We agreed we’re going to try to make a go of this, long-distance. The boyfriend thing.

I can’t just tell him we need to stop the snogging. I don’t want to stop. Blast it. Why couldn’t I be normal, like everyone else, and have actually had a previous boyfriend I brought home? Why do I have to be so fucking awkward?

I’ve tied myself in knots mentally so of course Simon notices. “What’re you thinking so hard about?”

“What? Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. You looked pinched. Like you took a bite out of a lemon.” I hadn’t even realized I’d sat up, hunching forward in concentration. “Baz. What is it?”

I chew on my bottom lip. I’ve got no idea what to say. I’ve been tongue-tied more often than not the last few days. It’s mortifying.

Simon rubs his hand along my forearm. “Hey. Is it about your parents? And us? I mean, I completely understand. They’ve only met me a few times and it was usually while I was staring daggers at you. I’m sure it’s been awkward enough explaining how we ended up as travel companions. Let alone other developments.” He gives me a shy smile. “We’re just figuring this out ourselves, Baz. There’s no need to complicate things by trying to explain it to anyone else quite yet, is there?”

I don’t know how he does it. Simon Snow is a mind reader. Either that or I’m frightfully transparent, which is an appalling prospect to consider.

I slump back against the seat. “But I don’t want to stop this.”I wave my arm between us and nearly wince at the whinging tone of my voice. Christ, I’m pathetic.

“We don’t have to stop this.” He emphasizes the word like I did. “But we can certainly be a bit more circumspect about it.” He waggles his eyebrows at me. “Surely there’s some secret passageway or dimly lit wine cellar in that mansion of yours that we can duck into for a good snog, yeah?”

“I’ll have you know my father’s wine cellar is state of the art. Nothing dim about it.”

“You’re impossible, Baz Pitch.”

I shake my head. “No, I’m not. You were always my impossible dream, Simon. I’m still a bit overwhelmed by the reality of it all.”

“You take the lead, then. I’ll go along with whatever feels comfortable. I’m just spending the night. There’s no need to give a detailed accounting of our . . .” he pauses.

“Relationship,” I interject. I tug him closer. “That’s what we’re calling it.” Suddenly everything falls into place in my head. I want this. More than I’ve wanted anything, my whole life. It’s not about what anyone thinks or how I explain it. Or even needing to explain it.

It’s Simon. And the chance to have not just this moment but all the moments ahead.

Simon

I’m glad Baz and I talked a bit. Spending Christmas with him is so much better than spending it alone in my dodgy little flat. I’m a bit nervous about his family, I’ll not deny that.

His siblings sound nice. I can manage kids. They don’t intimidate me and I know I get on with them. It’s Mr. and Mrs. Grimm I’m worried about. They’ve always been polite, the few times I’ve met them at school but it’s not quite the same thing nodding hello to your son’s roommate as it is meeting his boyfriend.

I am his boyfriend. It seems both odd and so entirely right to think of myself that way.

Christ, I wonder if his Aunt Fiona is going to be there? She intimidates me. Completely. I don’t think I’d dare even hold Baz’s hand in front of her. She wouldn’t be one to politely ignore it.

I think of asking him but I let it go. I’ll find out when I get there. No use getting myself all worked up before then. I just won’t think about it right now.

The train ride is shorter than I expected. I can feel my anxiety ratcheting up as we exit the station. I follow Baz to the platform, my hands in my pockets. I’m not sure meeting Mr. Grimm entwined with Baz is the best idea.

“There he is.” Baz points to the parking area, where a black Jaguar is waiting. Mr. Grimm gets out to shake hands with Baz and then he turns to me.

“Hello, Simon. Nice to see you again. It’s been awhile.”

His handshake is strong. I nod my head. “Nice to see you again too, sir. Thanks for letting me spend Christmas with you.”

“You’ll have to drop the ‘sir’, Simon. You’re making me feel ancient. Malcolm will do.”

“Uh, thank you, sir. I mean Mr. Grimm. I mean . . .” That’s not something I’m going to manage at all. I can’t call him by his first name.

He smiles and shakes his head. “Mr. Grimm is fine if that’s easier for you.”

He’s kinder than I expected. I honestly don’t know what I expected. He always seemed distant and preoccupied at Watford. That may have had to do more with Baz’s mum and his own memories though.

I hadn’t thought of that.

Baz takes the front seat and I slide in the back. I hope their house isn’t far. I tend to get a bit carsick on long rides.

It’s not that far.

And it’s not a house. It actually is a fucking Gothic Mansion.

“It’s Victorian actually,” Baz says. Fuck. I must have said that out loud.

I can’t believe Baz lives on a bloody estate. Well, actually I can believe it, knowing him, but the reality of it is a bit daunting. I wonder if it’s haunted.

Mr. Grimm drops us off at the front and goes to park the car somewhere. Baz bumps my shoulder so I turn to look at him. “It’ll be alright, Simon.” His fingers brush against mine and he grips my hand for an instant before opening the door.

We stand in the magnificent foyer for a moment and then I hear the thumping of footsteps and then a flurry of children rush Baz. He staggers then rights himself as he’s literally enveloped in a mass of arms and bodies.

I feel a light touch on my arm and turn to find Baz’s stepmum next to me. “Hello, Simon. I’m so glad you were able to join us. Baz said you’ve had an awful time of it getting home.”

She’s got a gentle voice and a kind face and it makes me relax just a bit. “It’s been a bit of adventure, that’s for certain.” I nod my head in her direction. “Thank you . . . for having me here . . .I’m sure it’s a spot of bother, having an extra person.”

She cuts me off before I can say anything more. “Not at all. I’m glad Basilton convinced you to join us. I think you both need a bit of a rest after all that nonsense with the weather.”

She moves to give Baz a kiss on the cheek and I realize the pack of children are now all staring at me.

It’s unnerving. They’re all so similar and they all have terribly inquisitive expressions on their faces. The tallest one, Mordelia I think Baz said, tilts her head and narrows her eyes at me. “So you’re Simon Snow.”

“Uh, yes?”

She darts her eyes to Baz and then back to me. “Not quite what I expected but I suppose you’ll do.”

“Mordelia.” Mrs. Grimm and Baz speak at the same time.

Mordelia rolls her eyes at me and links her arm with Baz’s. She looks up at him. “Took you long enough to get home. You promised you’d be home for Christmas.”

“And I am, you frightful wretch.” Baz’s words don’t match his expression. He’s smirking down at her in such a fond way.

“Simon, come with me,” Mrs. Grimm touches my arm again. “I’ll show you to your room.”

She sweeps me away, up the grand staircase at the far end of the foyer. I turn back to look at Baz. He’s still surrounded by the little ‘uns but his eyes are following me. He nods his head and gives me his most brilliant smile.

It makes me feel all warm, a radiating rush of heat from the affection I can see in his eyes. I’ll be alright I think.

I think I’ll be alright.

The room is massive. This place must be on some historic register. The bed is a four-poster monstrosity in a dark wood with drapery all around the bed. Everything is in shades of blue in here—the deep blue velvet curtains, the drapery around the bed, the chair by the window. Even the wallpaper. There are portraits of men and women on the walls and a soothing landscape across from the bed. I put my duffel down on the cushioned bench at the end of the bed and turn around to thank Mrs. Grimm.

She waves in the direction of the wardrobe and points down the left hallway for the shower. I nod my head and then she’s gone.

I don’t even know where to sit. I’m afraid I’ll break something. There’s delicate knickknacks and candlesticks and whatnot all over. I finally decide to sit on the window seat—it looks solid enough—when the door opens and Baz strides into the room.

He shuts the door behind him and I stand at his approach.

“Hey.” Baz’s arms are around me. It’s the most familiar thing in this place, the feel of him, the scent of him.

“Hey.” I slide my arms around his waist. “You didn’t tell me you lived in a fucking mansion, you twat. I should have known.”

Baz laughs. “I don’t think about it that way. It’s just home to me.” He presses his forehead to mine. “I can show you around a bit, if you like. Or you can take a shower and we can do the tour after dinner.”

I feel grimy. “I’d rather take a shower, if that’s alright.”

Baz nods. “Come to my room first. Let’s see if I’ve got anything for you to wear.”

Baz’s room is outrageous. It’s even larger than the one I’ve got and there are literally gargoyles carved into the frame of his bed, I swear to God. Dozens of them. Their eyes are unnerving. Makes me shiver, it does.

It’s mostly done up in dark reds and burgundies. His room could be right out of Jane Eyre or Dracula or some such gothic nightmare of a book. It’s absurd, really.

He laughs at my expression and drags me into a walk-in wardrobe that’s wall to wall clothes. Suits and shoes and jumpers and whatnot. Not an item out of place.

No wonder it drove him mad to share a room with me. My side of the room was always a disaster.

He pulls some jumpers off a shelf. “You’ll have to make do with your own trousers. I doubt any of mine will fit you, with the height difference.” He arches an eyebrow. “I tend to wear them fitted and I don’t think they’re meant for thighs like yours.”

I think I should be offended. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m not fat, you know. Just . . . sturdy, I suppose.”

His grin is almost predatory. “I mean they’re thick and muscular and stunning and absolutely not suited to be in my trousers.” His grin gets even wider. “At least not that way.”

I can feel my cheeks flame. That’s about the most suggestive thing he’s said to me and it makes me feel tingly, like a rush of fire just below my skin. I need a shower. Preferably a cold one.

Baz fusses with the jumpers for a few moments more, completely oblivious to the effect he’s having on me. Or maybe he’s just enjoying it.

He tosses a jumper at me. “That one will do.” His gaze softens as he looks at me. “It’ll bring out the blue of your eyes.”

It’s a Nordic style, which almost makes me toss it back to him, as I remember the bloke at the airport. But it’s soft and I like the color so I just clutch it to me instead. “I should shower.”

I grab my toiletries from my room and head to the bathroom down the hall.

My hair is an utter disaster but I’m knocking on Baz’s door a short while later, clad in his jumper and the nicest trousers in my bag. They’re a bit wrinkled but they’ll have to do.

“Come in.”

I peek into his room and am met with the magnificent sight of Baz in a dark suit. It looks black from here but as I move closer I see it’s a dark green. It highlights his coloring. I can’t look away.

“I was right. That color suits you perfectly, Simon. I think you should keep it. It never looked that good on me.”

“What?” He’s knotting a blood-pink tie and the effect of that with the suit is so mesmerizing I simply can’t focus on what he’s saying.

Baz turns to face me, which doesn’t help with my situation at all. His hair’s still a bit damp from showering, curling up at the ends. He’s not slicked it back yet. I like it like this. I like it a lot.

“The jumper. You should just keep it. I look a fright in that pale a hue—washes me out completely. I look like the undead.”

“You look bloody perfect right now.” I’ve crossed the room to stand directly in front of him.

He tilts his head and there’s a soft smile on his face.

I never knew Baz had a soft side. It’s one of the astonishing discoveries of this unexpected reunion we’ve had. It’s a precious secret that’s rarely revealed. I feel inexplicably fortunate to be one of the lucky few who see this side of him.

Baz reaches up to brush my curls off my forehead. I’m sure I need a haircut.

I swear he’s a mind reader. “I like it like this.” His fingertips trace a path from my hair to my jawline. “It’s longer than when we were at school.” He takes a step closer.

“I’m due for a haircut, now that I’m back.”

“Don’t.”

It’s my turn to smile. I reach out and wind a strand of his hair around my finger. “I’d say the same about yours. It looks better like this. Loose.”

Baz’s lips meet mine and my fingers tighten their grasp on his hair. He’s pressed up against me and I breathe in the fragrance of his posh shampoo, the aroma of whatever cologne he’s put on, the familiar, sensual, arousing scent of him.

He wraps his arms around my back to pull me flush to him, bodies in contact from chest to hips. The slide of his tongue against mine drives all other thoughts out of my head. His arms hold me, his scent surrounds me, the taste of him is on my lips, my senses overwhelmed by it all.

Which is probably why neither of us hear the door open.

“Oh my God, I knew you were shagging him!”

The speed at which we spring apart is astonishing. Mordelia is standing in the doorway, arms crossed with a triumphant expression on her face.

“You’re supposed to knock!” Baz growls, advancing on her in a surprisingly menacing fashion.

“I did knock. You were obviously too busy snogging Simon to hear me.” She raises one eyebrow in an uncanny imitation of him but takes a small step back just the same. “Mother said to tell you it’s time for dinner.” Mordelia turns her sharp gaze on me then smirks at Baz. “Looks like you’ve already had your snack.”

She makes a run for it before Baz can reach her, the door thudding shut behind her.

“Fucking hell.”

“I’m sorry, Baz.” I don’t know if he’s upset at her walking in on us or at the fact that we’ve just been outed as more than friends. Or both.

He frowns at me. “What are you apologizing for? I’m the one with an absolute maggot of a sibling.”

I shrug, giving him an apologetic smile. I’m concerned about him more than anything. How he’s taking this. “I shouldn’t have let myself get carried away. I promised myself I’d not let your irresistible charms tempt me while I was here.” I keep my tone light. I want him to know I’m not fussed about his sister.

He’s on me in a heartbeat. “Irresistible charm, now is it?” His hands cradle my face. “That should be my line.” He kisses me again, all warmth and affection, not the simmering passion of a few moments ago.

My stomach rumbles audibly. Baz pulls back and shakes his head at me, a hint of amusement visible in his eyes. “I suppose I should get my boyfriend down to dinner.”

His hand slides down my arm until his fingers intertwine with my own and that’s how we make our way down the stairs to the formal dining room for dinner—hand in hand.