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missdawnandherdusk · 3 years

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Beautiful Ghosts

Ghost!Reader X Draco

Summary: Request: @sydthekid1518: I had an Idea for a draco fic, where y/n is a ghost that’s fairly popular with the students and staff, and draco falls for her and stuff? And then maybe y/n and Harry create a plan that would allow reader to come back to life and stuff and be with draco.

A/N: Happy spooky season to all and to all a good night filled with Draco Malfoy. I’m so excited about how this turned out and that I got it done before Halloween because the odds weren’t looking to hot not gonna lie, but here it is and it’s beautiful. As always, let me know what y’all think,,,

“Y/n, please don’t disturb my students,” Snape droned with a monotone voice.

“You’ve got no power over me, Severus,” I laughed, ghosting away from his Slytherins working on Polyjuice potion.

“But I do have control in this classroom, dead or not Miss Y/n, this is my domain,” Snape argued, ruffled.

“I’m eternally bonded to this school. It’s my domain more than it is yours,” I countered, perched on his desk.

“Blasted ghosts,” A boy muttered, catching my attention, “No respect for authority,”

Tilting my head, I made my way over to him, studying the young Slytherin. He was about the age that I was when I had died, moved on, crossed the veil—whatever. His steady grey eyes and twisted sneer told me all that I needed to know about him.

“Another Malfoy,” I mused. “Interesting... And where’s your respect for the dead Mr. Malfoy?”

His eyes went wide at the idea that I was addressing him at all. Like I spooked him. Imagine that, a ghost spooking someone.

“Enough Ms. Y/n. Kindly refrain from scaring my students if you must stay,” Snape intervened. “I’m not scared,” Malfoy shot back.

“Boo!” I teased before passing through the walls of the dungeon and into my favorite spot in the entire castle, even living: the library.

I never had so much time on my hands before being dead, and now I could just take a book and read. Pince had been able to enchant them in such a way that I was able to hold them and turn their pages still. I was in the middle of a riveting tale about a boy who never grew up and had his destiny forced upon him and could fly. Perched on one of the tops of the shelves, I was lost in another world of magic.

“I didn’t know you could read,” I heard the same condescending voice from Severus’ potions class earlier that day.

“Little Malfoy,” I smiled down at him, closing my book. “And why would you assume that? I don’t look that stupid, do I?”

“Well, no,” He fumbled. “But you’re a ghost, you’re dead,”

“Yes, and I like to read, anything else?” I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Don’t call me little Malfoy. My name’s Draco,” He huffed.

“But it annoys you,” I mocked a pout. “And you are a little Malfoy, a bit taller than your father, but young all the same,”

“Who are you calling young? We’re the same age,” His voice raised enough that Pince had to shush him.

“I was born in 1776, I think you’re a little young,”

“1776!?” Draco’s eyes bulged. “But... how? You’re...” Pince hushed him again. I floated down and perched on the desk, trying and failing to contain my laughter.

“Oh, so now you care little Malfoy?” I teased lightly. “What happened to your dismissal of spirits not hours ago?” He didn’t have an answer for that. He just stared and didn’t dare to meet my eyes. “If you really want to know, I’ll tell you some time, but you’re going to be late for McGonagall if you don’t get going,”

Flustered, Draco headed out of the library and I watched him go. Knowing that Remus had a class this hour with the infamous Harry Potter, I headed over and perched on a desk in the back.

“Miss Y/n,” Remus acknowledged, “Perhaps you’d like to aid us today as we learn about ghosts and spirits?” Even though he had grown quite a bit over the years, there was still the same shine in his eyes when he was able to teach—even if it wasn’t a rag-tag group of marauders.

“So... you’re a ghost?” A young Hermione asked, a girl who spent a lot of hours in my library.

“Yes,” I smiled at her. “There are different types of ghosts however,”

“Oh, yes, Poltergeists, Funnels, Whisps, Orbs, and Shades,” She said matter-of-factly.

“Exactly, and Hogwarts has them all,” I looked to Remus who nodded for me to continue. “Most of you know that Peeves is a Poltergeist, a trickster loud ghost. Sometimes they were loud and violent, sometimes... well sometimes you have something like Peeves.” The class laughed.

“I’m sure you all have heard of the Grey Lady?” Remus interjected. “Helena Ravenclaw was murdered by the Bloody Baron and spends the rest of her days here at Hogwarts, they are both what we classify as Funnel ghosts. Ghosts who visit loved ones or loved places,”

“What about Whisps?” An intrigued Weasley asked.

“Well, most others are Whisps,” I explained. “Nearly Headless Nick, the Fat Friar, and most others you see strolling about. There is no strict reason that they’re here, other than they chose not to move on, or felt their work on earth was not completed.”

“Orbs are normally the spirits of animals or humans travelling about,” I continued, “They mainly show up in photographs. It wasn’t till after I died that cameras were invented, and they were found,”

“Any what kind of ghost are you?” A shy kid in the back asked. The class of kids turned to me, all expectant.

“I’m a Shade,” I explained. “It means that when I died, I wasn’t meant to. My soul knowing that, remained, and here I am,”

“Shades are very rare in the Wizarding World,” Remus cut in, “Not many are killed before their time, and many of them are very young,”

“Aren’t Shades allowed to come back though?” Hermione asked. “Because they were wrongfully killed? Doesn’t fate allow them another chance?”

Remus and I shared a look. I remembered when he had asked me that same question when he was no more than a third year as well. There was a solemn sorrow in his eyes.

“Yes,” I answered hesitantly. “There is a possibility, but the odds are almost impossible. Most of them have to do around prophecies.”

Class had ended, and Hermione waved as she went to leave. I lingered behind a bit with Remus for old times’ sake. He was one who had always been kind to me. I was one who never judged him for being a werewolf before he found his marauders.

“Sirius escaped from Azkaban,” He whispered softly, his gaze fixed on the papers on his desk. “I... I thought I was over it. Over him. He had my best friends killed,”

Pity flooded my chest as I hovered over to him, my hand ghosting above his.

“That wasn’t your fault Remus...” Was I going to give away the truth that I knew? Or would I keep it a secret? “And it wasn’t Sirius’ either,”

“How can you say that!” Remus slammed his hand on the desk. “He gave away Lily and James’ location! Then he killed Peter!”

“Remus,” I shook my head. “I can’t tell you everything, because it’s not in the stars, but... your friend isn’t who you think he is,”

A quiet moment passed between us and rather than get upset at me like I had thought he would, he spoke softly and surely.

“You’re... you’re saying there’s hope?”

“There’s always hope,” I offered a soft smile. “For all of us... even me,”

“How are you doing with that? The prophecy?” He asked.

I sighed and shook my head. “I might really be stuck like this for the rest of... forever...”

“Is there anything...?”

“No,” I denied softly. “Interfering with a prophecy can ruin it,”

“Can,” Remus stressed. “Not that it will,”

“But is it worth that risk?” I countered. “I could lose my one shot to come back. To be human again,”

“If I could be human again, I’d take any chance I could,” Remus’ eyes held a sadness that very few could sympathize with. One of those was me.

“Perhaps you’re right,” I murmured and let him be, drifting around the halls for a bit then back to the library to think some more and maybe find the right answer.

What I didn’t expect to find however was Draco, fast asleep where we had spoken earlier, draped over a few books and handwritten notes. I hadn’t noticed the late hour, sometimes time did elude me, and the days seemed to run together.

I didn’t want to wake the young Malfoy, instead, I peered at the books underneath him. Potions books, it seemed. Supposing that a Slytherin might have a partiality to Snape’s class, there was no need to question why he’d rather work on this subject than the others. Knowing Pince would chase Draco out of the library if he didn’t wake, my notion to not disturb him fell to the wayside.

“Malfoy!” I whispered loudly. “Draco, wake up!”

It was useless to try and shake him awake, I wasn’t able to. I could however pull the book out from under his resting head. So, I did.

“Bloody hell,” Draco grumbled, rubbing his eyes. “What’d you do that for?”

“You fell asleep?”

“And that was the only way you know how to wake a person?” He snapped, blinking into consciousness.

I gave him a flat look and reached out to touch him. He shied away, but it was in vain because my hand passed right through his material body.

“Oh,” He muttered. “But you can touch the books?”

“Pince and I worked on that together,” I informed him. “Did you think I would spend eternity and not figure out how to read?”

“I... uh,” He stammered, blushing a bit. “How come I’ve never met a ghost like you before?”

“And that means?” I pressed, perching on the desk.

“Well, all of the other ghosts are... I don’t know... stuck in their ways? Not sad about being ghosts? Haven’t kept up on things like reading?”

“You think I’m sad about being a ghost?” I mused.

“I... you—I mean,” He stammered, looking down in embarrassment. “You just seem... optimistically hopeless,” It was almost mumbled through his exhaustion.

“You know those words have opposite meaning, right?” I teased softly. “And... I’m a Shade. I doubt you’ve met another before like me,”

“A Shade?”

“Do you not pay attention in Remus’ class?” I raised an eyebrow at him.

“I don’t have his class until tomorrow,” Draco dismayed. “And it’s a stupid class anyway,”

“Defense against the dark arts isn’t stupid,” I refuted. “Especially with Remus teaching it,”

“You knew him then... when he went here. Professor Lupin,” Draco noted.

“Yes,” Lost in thought, a quietness passed before I spoke again. “When you learn what a Shade is, you’ll understand,”

“You could just tell me,” Draco whined, listlessly tired.

“But then you won’t pay attention in class,” I smiled. “Go on to bed, Draco. I’m not going anywhere,”

____________________________

Draco sulked in bed that night, thinking about you. Thinking about what a Shade was. Of course, he didn’t wait for class in the morning, instead he took out his DADA book and began to read up on ghosts. And he read. And read. And read. And barely found anything about what a Shade was. All that he knew was that you died when before your time. Maybe that was why he saw the sadness in your eyes.

He had every intention to be at Lupin’s class that day, but having Mythical Creatures beforehand, things hadn’t gone as planned.

“There’s always one,” Your voice sounded amused. “Why am I not surprised it was you, Little Malfoy?”

“It was the bloody hippogriff,” Draco snapped back.

“And somehow I don’t think that’s the entire truth,” You mused, hovering at his bedside. Until Pomfrey gave him the clear to leave, he was stuck with you.

“Won’t you just leave me alone?” He groaned, closing his eyes and laying back on the lumpy pillows of the hospital cot.

“Did you not want to learn about Shades? You’re going to miss Remus’ class after all,” The smile he heard in your voice made him look over to you, skeptical.

Your offer was tempting. Very tempting. He didn’t care much about magic other than excelling at it, therefore things that didn’t pertain to his advancement—mythical creatures and the like— held no inkling to him. And yet, you were a mystery he didn’t mind learning about. He wanted to know more about you. And you specifically.

“I guess, since I’m stuck here,” He tried to play it off as nonchalance, but you raised an eyebrow at him, seeing right through his charade.

“Well, Little Malfoy,” You hovered and perched on the end of his bed. “What do you know?”

“I... uh. Shades are people who have died before their time,” He stammered, not sure why he was so nervous.

“Quite,” You nodded. “Anything else?”

“Our book didn’t have anything else,” He admitted.

You went pensive a moment then nodded. “I suppose that you’d learn more about me in Divination than the Dark Arts,”

“Divination? You’ve got to be bloody joking! That class is a circus!” Draco exclaimed, wincing when he moved his arm too much.

“Perhaps,” You didn’t berate him, but seemed to be lost in thought once more. “But all Shades are tied to prophecies.”

“All of them?” Draco pressed.

“The fates understand that these souls left before their time, and give them another chance, a prophecy... to come back and live one more time.”

“So, you have the chance to live again?” His genuine curiosity seemed to shock both of you. “How?”

“If the prophecy is fulfilled, then I get to live again,” You said it as if it were obvious.

“So, why haven’t you, I don’t know... fulfilled it?” Draco asked.

You laughed something sad and soft. “Don’t you think I’ve tried? I’ve read every prophecy, every book, every scribble. I’ve tried everything... after so many centuries, you give up hope and accept your fate,”

“But this wasn’t your fate,” He argued back. “You were meant to live, back then, whatever that life was,”

“Do you know what happened when I was young, before I died, Little Malfoy?” You spoke, and he could hear the age in your voice though you liked no older than he was. It was your sorrow that aged you. He waited for you to continue. “I was born in 1776, the year the Americans went to war with the King of England. At the time we were living in the French countryside with my aunt because my father had gone to fight in the war. He was a general,” A smile ghosted your lips. “My father died in the war... the battle of Yorktown... that’s what it’s called today. Back then it was just a letter and inheritance money that went to my brother,”

“Hang on, you’re saying that your father fought in the American War of Independence? Under the king?”

“So, he can be taught,” You smiled at him. “Yes, the king at the time was a wizard and until parliament and the ministry were born and declared that muggles and wizards should rule themselves. Of course, the ministry was formed in the beginning of that century, but it took the war for them to call the final straw.”

“So, your father died in the war, that doesn’t explain what happened to you,” Draco pointed out, deeply invested.

“Well, tell me, what happened in France after that war ended?”

“The French Revolution,”

Your warm smile had the same effect as the sun. “Yes, and as I said, I was in France at the time, being tutored at home for the summer. Muggle girls weren’t allowed to go to school back then... I travelled to Hogwarts to receive schooling and even then, I was only allowed to learn Herbology and Potions. At least those two classes stayed the same,” You sounded sad and wistful. “But the revolutionists were going for the rich, any sort of rich. And at the time, they saw knowledge as wealth and power, and I had a reputation for being able to read and attending a private school out of the country and well...”

“They killed you because you knew how to read?” Draco distressed, sitting up, enraptured by your tale. “That’s so... stupid,”

“It was. But perhaps it was my own fault, I wouldn’t deny that I could read. I was proud.” Your smile faded again as melancholy settled on your face. “Now it seems that’s all I do. Fate is funny like that...”

“You’re free to go Mr. Malfoy,” Madam Pomfrey’s voice seemed to draw you both from whatever world had been created with your words.

He had to blink a few times to come to grips with the fact that he was currently in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, and not centuries behind, trying to imagine death for the reason of knowledge. There was an awkward moment between the two of you as you both seemed to realize that you were no longer int eh late eighteenth century. You offered a smile and left without another word, a curious look on your face as you left.

That was the last time he saw you that day, and that week for that matter, but he always wondered what you were doing. What were you reading today? What was your prophecy? Was it really as hopeless as you said it was? Was there a reason that he found himself caring?

______________________

“Oh, hello Harry,” I stood from the corner of Remus’ office, intrigued that the young Potter had come. He looked so much like his father that my heart ached for Remus and to imagine what he felt when he saw Harry.

“Y/n,” Harry seemed surprised. “I... uh... you know Professor Lupin?”

“Well I was here when he went to Hogwarts himself, so yes, I’m quite fond of him if you can believe it,” I smiled as Remus eyed the situation.

“Is there something that you needed Harry?” Remus asked, trying to sound professional, but I could hear the sentiment in his voice.

“The map...” Harry turned slightly pink.

A smile grew on my face. “You have the Marauder’s Map?” I almost laughed. “How in the world did you get that? Oh, if your father knew,” I did laugh this time.

Remus shot me a sharp look and Harry looked at me in wonder.

“My father? You knew my father?” The realization seemed to dawn him.

“Yes, well,” Remus interjected sharply. “Don’t get caught again Potter,”

“Why haven’t you told him?” I demanded as soon as Harry left. “Remus, come on, that’s not fair to Harry,”

“I’m not the one to tell him though! I can’t be!” He protested and I could hear the anxiety in his voice.

“Remus, I’ve known you a long time. And I’ve known James and Lily. They would want you to talk to him. They would want you apart of his life,” I argued, or perhaps encouraged softly.

“Maybe you’re right,” Remus mumbled.

“Of course, I am,” I smiled. “It’ll work out Re, with Sirius, and with Harry,”

“I hope you’re right,”

I left him to his thoughts and on my way to the library, I was ambushed by the younger Potter. Not that I wasn’t expecting it, I knew that Harry would have questions for me as soon as he knew I knew his father.

“Hello Harry,” I smiled.

“You know about my dad,” He burst out, hope in his eyes and tone.

“And your mother,” I smiled and perched on the windowsill nearby.

“Can you tell me about them? Please?” His eyes went glossy with tears that he blinked away.

“Your mother was bold, but still kind and gentle. She looked out for the little guy. She rooted for the underdog and protected the younger years of any House. She was always kind to me. Her and Remus both.” The memory was fond, if it was a memory. Did ghosts have memories after they were dead?

“And my dad?” He clung to every word.

“He... was a bit like you. Always finding trouble whether it was his fault or not. Totally deserved to be smacked a few times... but the war changed him. He grew up rather quickly. Into a protective caring young man. Almost everyone had eyes for him, but he only saw your mother,”

“Do... you think they would be proud of me?” His gaze dropped to his beat-up sneakers.

“Harry,” I called his attention. “You’re their son, they’ll always be proud of you,”

“But—”

“No buts,” I interjected. “That’s all it takes for you to make them proud, I promise,”

He nodded and mumbled a thanks before taking off toward the Gryffindor dorm. Finding solace in the library, I began to read again. Maybe a week had passed. Perhaps two. I wasn’t sure. I was so wrapped up in my books that I became lost to time. Until a blond-haired boy came in, his nose stuck in a book.

“I was wondering when I’d see you again Little Malfoy,” I smiled, from my perch in the library. He didn’t acknowledge me, causing me to frown. “Draco?” I ghosted down and perched on the table next to him. “Are you ghosting a ghost?”

Though he ignored me I could see the smile that twitched at his lips. That gave me little hope. “Is everything alright?” I asked, genuine concern coloring my voice.

“Ask Potter,” Draco snapped. “You seem to fancy him lately,”

“Excuse me?” I was taken aback. “Harry? He just wanted to know about his parents, that’s all,”

Draco frowned at this and he finally looked at me. “His parents?”

“Yes,” I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like he has a lot of people who know his parents and are willing to tell him anything. Dumbledore has made almost everyone vow not to talk to him, but what good is a vow to someone who’s already in the grave?” I shrugged. “Poor kid knows nothing,”

“I...” Draco didn’t seem to have the words. Instead he looked back down at his book. I smiled and rolled my eyes at his antics.

“If you care that much, you are still my favorite Little Malfoy,” His cheeks tinged pink and I laughed. “You’re something else Malfoy, you know that?”

“Says the girl who died for admitting that she could read instead of lying,” He raised an eyebrow at me. I chuckled and shrugged.

“Says the boy who avoided me for what, two weeks, because I talked to a boy about his dead parents,” I mused.

“It wasn’t two weeks,” Draco grumbled. “Nine days,”

“Oh, forgive me,” I laughed. “Nine days.”

He smiled and looked back down at his notes. I think it was the first time I had ever seen him smile and not sneer.

“So, nine days,” He prompted. “I assume you haven’t left the library... read anything interesting?”

I laughed and somehow the hours passed as Draco and I spoke about books and stories we had read as kids, and the ones we were currently invested in. It shocked me to know that he was an avid reader, of fantasy novels, nonetheless. Though I had read just about everyone that he had mentioned, there were a few that I added to my mental list of his that I said I would check out. He seemed sincerely happy at my interest of the books he read.

“Father thought they were childish,” He muttered when I asked him about it. “Fairytales and fantasies,”

“That’s stupid,” I scoffed, and Draco gaped at me, aghast that I would dare to call something his father said ‘stupid.’ It made me pause. “You... you know you don’t have to always agree with your parents,”

His gaze cast downward. “I don’t want to disappoint them,”

My face furrowed. “You’re they’re son, that’s enough for them to be proud,”

“You don’t know my parents,” He scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “I think the last time they were proud of me, is when I was sorted into Slytherin.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” I protested.

“You don’t know my parents,” Draco argued again.

“I do,” I retorted. “Or I did,”

The notion seemed to dawn on Draco as he stared up at me with wonder in his eyes.

“You did,” He realized. “Can you tell me about them... have they always been so...”

“Strict?” I offered.

“Suffocating,” Draco supplied.

I pressed my lips together and thought a moment.

“Your father, perhaps. I never spoke to him much, and he never paid me mind. But you mother,” I smiled at the memories that came flooding back. “She was bold, cunning. She loved her sisters with a fierce passion.” My smile. “The three of them were some of the brightest witches I’d ever seen,” I glanced over to him. “You have her eyes, her same spirit,”

A smile drew on his lips as his face turned a soft shade of pink. “Do you know that because you’re a ghost?” He mused.

“No, I’m just a girl who can read character pretty well. After seeing so many faces pass through here, and reading so many stories, there are those who stand out and stay with you. Your mother... she stood out to me. And I can see her in your eyes,” My demeanor softened as I realized the words I was saying and if I could have, I would have blushed.

“Thank you,” He whispered as the clock chimed a late hour.

“You should head back,” I sighed softly. “Get some rest,”

“Why don’t I ever see you near the Slytherin dorm?” Draco asked, gathering his things.

“I’d rather not cross paths with the Baron,” I admitted.

“The Baron? Why?” Draco frowned; his bag slung over his shoulder.

“Never you mind,” I smiled. “Get to bed Little Malfoy,”

“Don’t call me that,” He grumbled, trudging out of the library.

The night progressed as did the month and I went from one book to another, soon searching for a book I hadn’t in a long time. My diary from when I was alive. Published as its own book that I had found a few decades ago. Tucked into the pages was what held my fate. My prophecy.

I went to the shelf in which I knew my book had its home, but it wasn’t there. Instead a sliver of time carved away by my missing book. Drifting over to Pince I asked her about where my book had gone. She told me that Malfoy had checked it out and had it for about a week—since the day we spent in the infirmary together.

For the first time in a long time I felt... embarrassed that my story and thoughts were on display for anyone to read. I never cared before, but this felt different.

Cursing the late hour, I knew that there was no way to get to Draco now. The Bloody Baron was protective about other ghosts coming into the Slytherin dorms. I’d have to find him in the morning then. I considered loitering outside the Slytherin portrait, but I also did not want to go anywhere near the Bloody Baron. I had heard and read enough.

So instead I headed to the Astronomy Tower to watch the stars again, having silent conversations with them, wondering if they’d ever grant me life again.

“You’re glowing,”

The voice startled me enough that I actually jumped. The irony of scaring a ghost. I turned to see Draco behind me, his eyes glued to my shimmering skin.

“Yes, all ghosts do it under the moon and stars,” I noted. “By the way, can I have my book back?” I stood, going over to him.

“Your book?” He questioned.

“My book,” I restressed. “My diary? That you have from the library? The one that has my—” I stopped myself.

“Your prophecy.” Draco finished, offering me the book that he had drawn from his robes. “Yeah, I know.”

I stared at him curiously, pulling the book back into the security of my arms, where it belonged. That uncertain feeling returned to my chest.

“You know it’s rude to read a girl’s diary,” I retorted, defensive.

“It’s a published book in the library, anyone can read it,” Draco rolled his eyes. I gave him a flat look and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “So, have you figured out what it means?”

I sighed softly and shook my head in defeat. “The only thing I’m sure of is the great star is Sirius,”

“Sirius, like Sirius Black? Escaped Azkaban criminal?” Draco exasperated.

“Well, the star is his name sake. But I’m sure you of all people know that Draco,” I raised an eyebrow at him. “Your family has a knack for celestial namesakes. If I remember correctly, Sirius is your mother’s cousin,”

“What?” Draco demanded. “No! There is no way!”

“Draco,” I reached out for him in vain as he paced in anger and confusion. “Draco will you calm down?” I nearly shouted.

“Calm down!? How can I when I know that I’m related to that criminal!?” He demanded.

“Sirius isn’t a criminal!” I argued back. “He didn’t kill Peter or those people!” I gasped, covering my mouth in shame, my eyes wide. That was a secret that I wasn’t supposed to tell.

“What do you mean he didn’t kill those people?” Draco sneered, stalking up to me.

“I—I’m not supposed to...” I took a step back, ghostly tears welling in my eyes. “I wasn’t supposed to... Merlin,” I cried, sliding to the ground.

Draco’s demeanor changed from anger to worried and concerned. Not that I noticed through my distress. I felt as if I had just betrayed one of my best friends.

“Y/n, what... what in the world are you talking about?” Draco asked sitting beside me, a failed attempt to reach out and comfort me.

“I promised. I promised I wouldn’t tell what I knew until the time was right,” I sobbed. “Bloody hell, he’ll never trust me again,” I squeaked.

“Who?” Draco demanded.

I looked at him, wide eyed with fear, shaking my head softly. “I... I can’t. I’m sorry Draco,”

I dematerialized and rematerialized in a quiet portion of the castle grounds, away from the rest of the students, among the woods. The trees welcomed me and the further I walked in, the less tied to the castle I felt. I came to a lake and sat beside it. Crying tears that would never fall in my undead state, I stared at the water and my lack of reflection.

“I’m so sorry Sirius,” I wept softly. “I didn’t mean to tell him... I was just defending you,”

“I’m surprised you kept the secret this long,”

Again, I jumped, startled by the voice behind me.

“Hey there Spooks,” Sirius gave a lopsided smile, the years in Azkaban resting in his eyes and in the lines on his face.

“Sirius,” I gasped. “What are you doing? It’s not safe here!” I protested.

“I couldn’t leave my girl to cry, now could I?” He smirked, before his expression sobered.

“You should,” I sniffed. “I’m so sorry Sirius, it slipped out,”

“I know,” He held his hands up in a calming effort. “I knew it would, and it’s okay. Who did you tell? It wasn’t Moony was it?”

“No,” I looked down. “But you need to tell him Sirius, he deserves to know,”

“He won’t even talk to me. He thinks that I betrayed James and Lily and killed all of his friends,” Sirius toed at the dirt—the same tick he had in his Hogwarts years when he had been caught in a lie or prank.

“But you didn’t,” I protested. “He still loves you Sirius, I can see it in his eyes and when he talks about you and James...”

“He—no,” Sirius shook his head. “That’s not for you to worry about,”

“Do not make me mother you,” I threatened. “Talk to Remus,”

“I will,” Sirius sighed. “When the time is right,”

“As a girl who’s waited for centuries for the right time... talk to him as soon as you can,” There was a pity-filled look on his face that I brushed off.

“Any luck with that? Your prophecy?” He seemed almost hopeful.

“No,” I sighed. “But there is one who took the time to ask this year. Like Remus did his first year,” The memory was a soft spot for both of us.

“You were his first friend,” Sirius smiled at the same memory. “So, who is it this year?”

“Little Malfoy,”

Sirius snorted. “We both know you don’t have a sense of humor, drop the act,”

“I’m ser—” He gave me a look and I paused to rephrase. “I’m telling the truth. It was Draco who asked, who read my diary, and knows about the prophecy,” I hesitated. “He’s also the one I told,” My gaze dropped to the ground waiting for the backlash.

“Malfoy!?” Sirius demanded. “You told Malfoy!?”

“I’m sorry! I told you I was sorry!” I shouted back, bristling, feeling my body shudder. Sirius seemed to notice and took a few paces away and composed himself.

I dared to speak. “All he knows is that you didn’t kill Peter. That’s all. I’m so sorry Sirius,” I turned, and he was gone. “Fine! Leave!” I shouted. “Like always... like everyone...”

I let out a scream of frustration that was carried away with the wind. Letting out a sigh of defeat I wandered up to the castle again.

“Y/n?” For the third time tonight, I jumped at the call of my name. It was Draco again.

“Draco, look,” I started. “I...”

“No,” He stopped me softly. “I’m sorry... I...” He shook his head and took off down the hall towards the Slytherin dorms. Chasing after him, he was too far gone, and I was face to face with the Baron.

“Oh, could this night get any worse?” I shouted to no one in particular. “I don’t mean to trespass, apologies.”

“Stay out of my territory and away from my students, you little harlot,” The Baron sneered.

“Gladly,” I growled back. “Arse,” I muttered as I ghosted back to the upper levels of the castle.

Utterly lost on what to do, I found myself by the Black Lake, staring up at the moon and stars. I stayed there until the sun rose over the dark waters, painting the valleys in a golden light. I remained there, watching the sun and moon dance in the sky in an unchangeable waltz that continued for eternity.

“They said you were out here,”

I didn’t jump this time at the sound of his voice as the moon rose to her duet again.

“Hello, Draco,” I murmured softly. “Come to watch the stars with me?”

“Sure,” I could hear the smile in his voice as he sat beside me on the bank of the lake, the only sound was the music of the night, the lake lapping at the small beach, and his gentle breaths.

“I... I’m really sorry,” He murmured softly. “For that night, I didn’t mean to get so angry. I wasn’t upset with you...” Silence fell softly between us. “My parents never told me... I wrote to my mother...” My eyes widened as I gazed over at him, his pale skin almost having the same affect that mine did in the moon light. “I never knew...”

“I’m sorry,” I offered.

“Merlin don’t apologize to me,” He laughed hopelessly.

“Well I did sort of freak out on you, so... sorry.”

He shrugged and his gaze fixed on the moonlit water. “My father thinks it’s absurd that I’m talking to you... and I think my mother is slightly worried about me for it,”

“Any particular reason?” I mused.

“Father has always been against those different than him in any way... my mother probably worries that I’m not making friends...talking to ghosts...” A smile toyed at his lips at the mention of his mother.

“Are we not friends then?” I teased lightly, causing him to laugh.

“Sure,” He rolled his eyes at me, this time causing me to laugh. “Do you miss them?” He asked after a quiet moment.

“Who?”

“Your parents... your family?” He seemed almost afraid to ask.

I pondered the question. “Yes, sometimes... but I’ve spent a lot of years wasting tears that will never fall over people I can never see again... you move on and learn to live after a while... well as much as a ghost can live,”

“You can’t cry, can you?” He came to the fact easier and saner than most did.

I shook my head. “I can feel bitter sorrow, the worst loss, but I can never shed a tear,” I chuckled humorlessly. “The irony, I have the most to mourn and I can’t even cry,”

“I’m sorry,”

I shrugged. “I’ve lived a long time without being able to cry... just reminds me that I’ll never be quite human again,”

“But you could be,” He had more hope than I ever had about the fact.

“Yeah,” I scoffed. “That stupid prophecy,”

“I don’t think it’s stupid,”

“You’ve haven’t spent centuries wondering what it meant,” I argued back:

“In the days when evil lurks around every corner;

The condemned will become innocent;

And the innocent will become condemned;

True love can reanimate a deceased heart;

Under the star of Great Dog;

She will become alive as time is altered;

Two souls will be set free that day as the star takes her place.”

“True love,” I scoffed again; my lips pressed together. “Like some sort of stupid fairytale,”

“I thought you said that fairytales weren’t stupid,” Draco raised an eyebrow at me smirking.

“They’re not,” I rolled my eyes. “Believing that there’s true love out there to save me? That’s stupid,”

“Then maybe there’s no hope for any of us,” Draco sighed. “If someone like you can’t find true love, where’s the hope for the rest of us,”

A smile ghosted me lips at his words as I looked over to him, his eyes still trained on the water.

“You’re really sweet sometimes, you know that Malfoy?” His eyes darted to mine as his cheeks tinged pink.

“Will you come back inside?” He asked softly. “The library isn’t as interesting without you there,”

“Sure,” I smiled warmly at him.

Fall turned to winter turned to spring, and Draco and I spent a lot more time together than I cared to admit. He was almost easier to talk to than anyone else I had met. And that was saying something, because I knew Remus Lupin, who was fascinated with my fascination of the young Malfoy.

But all the same, I found myself crave Draco’s company more and more and cursing the Baron for not letting me see him while he was in his dorm. It was rough when he came down with a cold and I wasn’t able to see him for a week. No number of books could distract me from the fact that he wasn’t there to talk to. That he wasn’t here to talk to me. I had never missed anyone like this before.

But when he felt better, we’d press curfew to mere minutes just to get another word in with each other. Then he’d have to be human and I’d have to remember that I didn’t belong in his world and never could. It didn’t stop me, however, from finding and talking to him the next day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that.

Then there was a day in late spring that caught my attention as Sirius had finally gotten to Harry and his friends, but things had gone from bad to worse as I watched the scene unfold, doing the only thing I could think of, I spirited away to find Remus. He would know what to do, he would know how to help.

After I had explained what I had seen, Remus grabbed his wand and took off towards the Whomping Willow. I followed him, and as soon as I left the castle, I felt the dark presence of the dementors around me.

“No!” I shouted, going up to meet them, and for the first time in a long time gave into my spiritual power, long enough to hold them off and let Remus pass through safely.

I hovered over the Shrieking Shack, keeping the dementors as bay, away from Sirius, away from Remus. They didn’t dare to go near my pure light that was amplified by the full moon. Soon I saw the three of them emerge, Peter in chains, when the light of the full moon hit my little Remus.

With a cry of desperation, I did my best to keep the dementors away as I watched the horrors unfold before me before I couldn’t take it any long and chased after Remus, who was not a wolf into the wood.

“Remus!?” I shouted; my voice lost with the wind. “Remus, it’s me! Please come out!” I caught sight of Hermione and Harry and gestured that they should leave, and quickly. “Remus!?”

I heard a growl and turned, seeing golden scared eyes.

“Hey,” I cooed softly. “You’re alright, you can’t hurt me,”

A pained howl left his lips.

“I know,” I replied. “But you’re going to be alright, let get you back, yeah? To Prongs and Pads, they’re waiting for you.” Tears I wanted to cry weren’t shed at the pitiful heartbreaking whine that left his lips.

But he let me lead him back to the Shrieking Shack all the same. I stayed with him until McGonagall and Dumbledore came. There was a soft thank you from the both of them. I drifted back to the castle, pacing in anxiety.

“Y/n?” It was Draco’s voice. I turned.

“Draco, it’s not safe!” I squeaked. “What are you doing out of bed!?”

“I had to see you,” He confessed. “There are rumors, about Black and Lupin... I thought you’d... Are you alright?”

“Draco, really,” I glanced around, cursing that I couldn’t drag him inside to where it was safer. “It’s not safe for you out here,”

“Bloody hell, Y/n, what about you!?”

“I’m already dead! So, unless you’d like to join me!” I shouted, realizing after the fact what I had said. “Draco, I didn’t mean that,”

“You’re keeping things from me,” It was a broken accusation. “About Sirius, about Remus,”

“Draco, please,” I pulled away. “I... I have to go, I have to make sure that he’s alright,” My eyes trailed up to the top of the tower, knowing that I may have been the reason that Sirius was in chains again.

“No!” Draco shouted, drawing my attention.

He had never demanded anything of me before, not like this. It wasn’t the fact that he told me to stop, it was the notion that he had found his own voice in it that caused me to pause. I waited for him to continue.

“I’ve spent all year, all of my three years here, knowing you, and getting to know you and I’m not going to let you walk away again! I want to know! I don’t want this you can’t tell me act. If anyone, you can tell me. Can’t you trust me? Please,” His voice broke, unshed tears in his eyes.

“Draco,” My non-material heart broke a bit as he stood before me, vulnerable. Shaking and terrified I nodded. “Remus... is a werewolf. Sirius is an Animagus. Peter betrayed the Potters, and Sirius went to confront him. Peter faked his death and killed all those people and it was blamed on Sirius...” In my nervousness I began to ramble:

“...and Sirius and Remus confronted Peter tonight and Harry and his friends were there and I had to fight off dementors so that Sirius would be okay because I couldn’t bear to see him get hurt for something he didn’t do and then I had to go and help Remus because it’s a full moon and he won’t hurt me but for the love of merlin he will hurt you so will you please go inside!”

Draco gaped at me, in utter disbelief.

“Please Draco, go inside,”

“Only if you come with me,” He recovered.

My thoughts for Sirius were forgotten as I took a step closer to him. Instead, all I could see and focus on was the heartbreak on his face and the hand that he held out for me. A hand that I wanted to accept but knew that I couldn’t because I would phase right through him. Never had I loathed being dead so much but in that moment when all I wanted to do was comfort him.

For the first time in almost two hundred years, tears slid down my cheeks. I barely noticed.

“Please,” His voice shook as did his hand as it remained extended to me. “Please, Y/n,”

The moon fell behind the mountains as the sun shed her first light onto us.

And with reckless abandon, I reached out for him, for his hand. In desperation and false hope, closing my eyes, knowing my heart would never break more that in the next few moments for not being a part of his world.

Then my hand felt softness and warmth.

I gasped and jerked back, and Draco seemed to realize this as I did.

“You just...” He stammered.

“I...” Trembling, I held my hand up, the sunlight no longer passing through it but refracting off of it. I finally reached up and felt the wetness of tears on my cheeks as I gasped in pure joy.

“I’m human,” I laughed, “I’m human!” I marveled at my rosy skin and the soft green fabric of my dress as I felt the grass beneath my feet. After a moment, I, at last, looked to Draco, who seemed to be frozen in a state of wonder and disbelief, and almost... scared.

“Draco,” I called softly, “It’s me,” I offered my hand to him, the grin not leaving my face.

“You’re... and...”

I nodded and smiled, taking a step closer to him. “Not scared of ghosts, are you?” I teased softly.

He finally laughed and took my hand, pulling me close, into the comfort of his arms. I began to cry again because for the first time in two hundred and fifty years, I was hugged. I clung to him, my fingers marveling at the softness of his shirt, trailing up into his hair.

“Merlin,” Draco pulled away softly. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this,”

Before I could ask him what he meant—or argue that I had been waiting longer than he ever had—he pressed his lips to mine, and in that moment, I swear I could have died all over again in his arms.

In the days when evil lurks around every corner,

The condemned will become innocent,

And the innocent will become condemned.

True love can reanimate a deceased heart,

Under the star of Great Dog,

She will become alive as time is altered;

Two souls will be set free that day as the star takes her place.

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2K notes · View notes

minizode · 3 years

Text

memory

pairing: jay / f!reader

wordcount: 3.3k

genre: angst, comfort

warning: breakups, evil management, hurt feelings, enhypen being crazy, jay is kind of an ass in the beginning, female pronouns

+ summary: jay breaks up with his girlfriend of two years. why?

note! hey! this is my first fic on kpop tumblr... i really hope you guys like it. i’m pretty bad at writing angst but i’ve had this idea in my head for such a long time that i really wanted to post it for more people to see! also this is in third person, so pls lmk if you’d prefer second person because i couldn’t decide

“y/n!” Jay called from the door.

Backstage was crowded with people bustling from left to right, preparing for the next performance. Jay stood tall and searched the crowd for the face of his girlfriend.

His saving grace, y/n’s bandmate, saw Jay and caught her attention, motioning her to the door where Jay was. She smiled and quickly maneuvered past the staff members to stand in front of him.

“Hey,” she smiled. “Good job on your performance, by the way, you looked really good up there.” She paused.“But why are you here? I have like… five minutes until I need to be on stage.”

“Thank you.” Jay nodded and pushed his hands into his pockets. “And I know, but Heeseung-Hyung said I needed to tell you this as soon as possible.”

“Okay! Can we just go over there? It’s really hard to hear you,” She motioned for him to follow her to a space behind some boxes of equipment. “Can you help me?” She said with the sweetest smile, and Jay felt his heart crack a little more down the middle. She held out the wires for her mic pack, which he took quickly and turned her around.

“So, we’ve been dating for a long time,” Jay started as he plugged the wires into the small black box on the waistband of her shorts. “You know, it’s almost our one-thousand days.”

y/n giggled and nodded. “Five more days, yeah.”

Jay took a breath and pursed his lips as he pulled her hair to the side, exposing soft skin on the back of her neck. He bit back every urge he had to rest his head there and adjusted her mic before turning her around to face him. “Well, don’t you think it’s been a little too long?”

y/n’s eyebrows furrowed together, surely ruining her makeup and creating creases. “What are you trying to say?”

“Just… don’t you think it’s time to focus on ourselves? We’re progressing with our lives and-”

y/n’s scoff cut him off. “Just say you’re bored of me, Jay. Just say it.” Her tone had taken a complete shift from what it had sounded like mere seconds ago.

“That’s not what I’m saying, y/n.” He sighed. “I just want you to be happy, I want to be happy too.”

“But I am happy,” she rebutted.

“Not as happy as you could be. Our relationship is the same routine, nothing new is happening. I mean, I’ve finally debuted… don’t you think it’s about time for us to move on?”

y/n let out a laugh of disbelief. “Is that not what a relationship is supposed to be? We’re supposed to be comfortable… and you didn’t seem to have a problem with that when I debuted.”

“We can’t be together forever, y/n. That’s just not realistic,” Jay muttered and pursed his lips. y/n shook her head.

“And I thought…” she sighed and ran a hand through her freshly curled hair, ruining that too. “Whatever. I don’t have time for this,” she said, turning on her heel and walking toward the entrance of the stage right as the staff called her name. “We’re over, Jay. Have a good life.”

And with that, she walked on stage, a perfectly crafted smile on her face.

Jay got back to his seat just by the time the music started.

“Did you do it?” Sunghoon asked with hesitancy.

Jay nodded and turned to the stage. Automatically, his eyes flickered towards y/n, as though it was an impulse. To any normal person, she would look fine. Happy, even. Her makeup didn’t look creased and her hair looked fine; she looked beautiful as always. She was smiling when she sang her part, she shone just as brightly as her other members. However, Jay knew her better than anyone; he could see the sadness mixed with anger in her eyes. But she was a professional, and as always, managed to mask her feelings with the factory manufactured expressions on her face.

“Was she mad?” Niki asked from beside Jay. He turned to Niki and shrugged.

“I think so.”

“You should have waited,” Sunoo muttered. “Telling her right before her performance was a dirty move, even for you.”

Jay scoffed, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Just as Sunoo opened his mouth to contradict, Jungwon placed his hands on both of their shoulders. “Stop fighting, guys. You can discuss all you want back at the dorms. Just not in public, people are watching.”

The other members watched Jay roll his eyes and turn his attention back to the performance.

The song was reaching its end; the climax, y/n’s part. She was singing with passion and fervor, Jay would even go as far to say that she sounded, and looked, better than ever. The tears in her eyes made it all the more powerful.

And then, just like that, it was over. Her chest heaved as she smiled at the camera. There was an emotion on her face that he couldn’t quite place, but it didn’t matter, because they were over. He would never see her face again.

y/n laid in her bed, watching the dust specks glide through the sunlight, landing upon her bedsheets. There, strewn upon them, was the black sweatshirt of Jay’s that reminded her of all the things she had a day ago. It reminded her of everything she lost over one simple conversation.

Part of her wished she had ignored him at that doorway; she wished she didn’t take him to a quieter area, she wished she didn’t ask him for help with her mic pack, she wished she hadn’t even let him speak. Maybe then, the conversation would’ve been saved for a better day.

She was confused; why did he break up with her? It was so out of the blue, so random. It hadn’t even occurred in her mind that they would ever break up. y/n had never experienced a break up before. Was it normal to feel this bad?

She knew, upon hearing her friends’ ailments, that it sucked. But y/n had never realized the true meaning of heartbreak until now. But she wasn’t crying… was she supposed to cry? Was she supposed to feel something? Right now, she only felt numb. Like she was a speck of dust floating in the cold winter sunlight and falling onto her bedsheets.

There was a soft knock on her door. Silence for a second, then another series of knocks, followed by the door opening. Due to the layout of her room, she couldn’t see the door, nor the person coming inside. She thought it was one of her members again, telling her to come to eat or drink some water, to go shower or use the bathroom, or even just get out of bed and change into something else to save her from wallowing in a well of sadness. What she didn’t expect, however, was the gentleness of the leader of Enhypen, one of her closest friends.

“y/n,” his voice was warm, just like the hesitant hand on her shoulder. “You need to get up.”

Her body turned so she could face him. He looked tired; dark bags under his eyes. His irises were lacking their usual stars, and his lips were pale. What happened to him?

“Are you okay?” were the first words that left her lips from last night. Her throat was dry, it felt like sandpaper. It showed in her voice; the scratchiness of it.

Jungwon sighed and sat on the edge of her bed. “This isn’t about me, noona. Minju called and told me you haven’t even gotten out of bed since after the show last night.” He brought his face closer to hers with his eyebrows turned down. “Did you even take off your makeup?”

She shook her head.

He sighed again. For a sixteen-year-old, Jungwon sighed more than a disappointed old man. “Please get out of bed. You’ll die at this rate.”

A hoarse giggle escaped her throat and she ran her hands down her face. “I think that’s a little overdramatic.”

“No, I’m serious! For real… I thought you guys would be able to take care of yourselves. Turns out a kid two years younger than you has to take care of you because you’re both too stupid to do it yourself.”

“Hey!” she sat up in her bed. “That’s rude, Jungwon.”

“You know what’s rude?” Jungwon said. “Ignoring your basic human needs and making the people close to you worried!” Jungwon never raised his voice, let alone at someone who was older than him. Was he really this worked up? “It’s nearly four P.M, noona. You haven’t eaten anything since last night. At least Jay-Hyung is doing better than you… at least he got up. Even if he’s so upset that he’s been playing games all day, at least he’s taking care of himself.”

y/n’s face twisted to annoyance. “Upset?” she scoffed. “Why in the name of God would he be upset? He’s the one who broke up with me.”

“You don’t think he feels bad?”

Silence engulfed the room. y/n had known Jay for three years, dated him for two. In all that time of knowing him, one thing was for certain; he always tried his best to not show his negative emotions. That was one of the things that tested their relationship almost constantly. He never told her when he was upset because he knew she would feel guilty for it. He never wanted to hurt her, even though it ended up hurting her more by finding out through other people. Even now, they experience the same thing.

“Then why did he break up with me?” y/n’s voice was small. “We were happy… at least I thought we were. He even planned a big date for our one-thousand days on Monday,” she didn’t realize her voice was shaking until Jungwon pulled her into a hug.

“I think the only way you’ll be able to figure out the answers to everything is if you talk to him yourself. I can comfort you, but you won't be able to get closure unless you talk to him.”

y/n pulled away and shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t think I can get more upset than this so…” she trailed off. “Maybe it’s worth a shot? Besides, I have a lot of stuff to do and I can’t let this plague my mind anymore otherwise I’ll get in trouble with my manager,” she let out a teary laugh. Jungwon giggled with her and nodded his head.

“You can come with me back to the dorm. But only after you get ready and eat some food.”

y/n sat on the grey futon in the boys’ living room. She had been there several times ever since they had moved in, but something was different this time; Jay wasn’t sitting beside her. It felt wrong sitting on the center cushion without the warmth of a body beside her. Well, there were actually two boys sitting beside her trying to cheer her up, but it didn’t feel the same.

“He’ll be back in an hour or so,” Heeseung had told her. “He and Niki went out to get some groceries.”

y/n watched as Sunghoon chased Sunoo around the living room with a spatula that held a fried egg (one that y/n had actually cooked for them when she arrived. Why Sunghoon was chasing Sunoo rather than eating it was beyond her). Jungwon and Jake sat on either side of her, laughing at the ungraceful occurrence before them. Heeseung walked out of the bathroom and into the living room, running face-first into Sunghoon, who splatted the egg all over his shirt.

Amongst the commotion of y/n grabbing a towel to help Heeseung and Jake getting him a new shirt, the door opened and the two missing boys arrived in the apartment. Upon hearing Jay’s greeting of “We’re home!”, y/n frantically looked around the room for an escape. She resorted to hiding behind Sunghoon and Sunoo, who were bickering about who’s fault it was.

Too bad that Jay was as sharp as an eagle. He saw her the moment he and Niki walked into the living room.

The deafening silence that followed raised goosebumps on everyone’s skin. Jay looked over each of his members’ faces before finding the guilty look on Jungwon’s; a dead giveaway. Jay pressed his lips in a tight line before leaving the room, probably going to the kitchen to put away the groceries.

“Um…” Sunoo turned to y/n. “Maybe you should come back later… he looks like he’s in a bad mood,” he whispered.

“He’s only in a bad mood because Jungwon brought her here.”

“Well they need to talk, it’s not my fault he decided to end things that way.”

“He should’ve been more considerate of her feelings.”

Niki, who had been silent the entire time, walked over to y/n and opened his arms for a hug. It made her smile slightly. The youngest was always somewhat reserved around her. Maybe it was because she was a girl, or maybe it’s just because he didn’t know her as well as he would’ve liked. But he probably caught onto the fact that she wasn’t in a good headspace, and he was a good-hearted kid, so he just wanted to show her he cared.

“You should just talk to him now,” Niki said lowly. “Jay-Hyung!” he yelled, and all the other members looked at him in shock. “Come here!”

In seconds, Jay appeared in the doorway. The other boys looked around at each other before moving out of the way.

“We’ll give you guys some space,” Jake said softly before leaving the room. The others followed suit.

y/n stood in the middle of the room, looking at the patterned socks on her feet. Her large hoodie hung to her mid-thighs, covering the denim shorts she wore underneath. She was never too good at confrontation… it was scary and there were so many factors to consider. But she had to do it this time.

Jay stood in front of her and reached out to grab her hand, running his thumb across her knuckles, something he knew calmed her down in most situations. But right now, it only made her feel worse. Didn’t he hate her?

“What did you wanna talk about?” he said slowly, cautiously.

She breathed in quickly and looked up at him before speaking. “I just… I just need to know why. Why did you want to end things? Two people in love can’t just break up one day, you know? It has to have been some build-up. What was it? What did I do?”

Jay hummed and looked down at their connected hands. “I was going to just continue on the lie I told you back at the show but,” he paused and shook his head, looking back up at her. “I can’t keep lying to you. It kills me too much.”

y/n looked confused. “What does that mean?”

“You know how when I got the chance to be in the show, they didn’t really like the idea of us dating?”

She nodded, a signal for him to continue.

“Well, the company said that now that I’ve debuted, it’s an even bigger problem. It would be fine if you weren’t an idol, but you are. And they don’t like how famous you are compared to us, I guess?” Jay looked torn. y/n’s group was one of the most popular girl groups on the charts. “They think that people will find out about our relationship, and that will bring down our reputation, apparently.”

“Seriously?” y/n pulled her hand from his. “That’s… the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard.”

“I’m not lying, baby. I would never lie to you about this.”

y/n walked backward before sitting on the couch and putting her face in her hands. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, Jay. It’s just… that’s so stupid. Why would they make you break up with me now? Why didn’t they talk about this earlier? And why didn’t you just tell me? I would’ve understood.” She sounded hurt. Understandable, considering the words leaving his mouth. “I, of all people, would understand. I know how important this is to you. Don’t you think I would’ve listened if you just told me the truth?”

“I just thought that if I made up something, it would be easier for you to move on. Because now, you know I never lost feelings for you. I just can’t bring my group down incase anything ever got out to the public.”

y/n’s lips quivered. “So… so that’s it then?” her voice was threatening to crack. Her throat was tight and sore, and it felt like if she made one wrong move she would break. “We’re just going to end things like this?”

“What other choice do we have? I don’t want you to get caught involved with a scandal… That would ruin your career more than it would mine.”

She sniffled. “I just wish that things were different.”

“Hey,” he stepped closer to her. “Please don’t cry. It won’t be fair to both of us.”

He was right, as he always was. She couldn’t cry; it wouldn’t be fair. Because life was never fair to them. It pushed them to the extremes and they always came back intact, holding each other tightly so they wouldn’t lose the pieces. Like when her grandfather was sick, or when Jay had to move away. When they couldn’t contact each other for months, or when she got injured when he was gone. Life was unfair, but they had to make it through.

Her heart was unsettled, thumping weakly against her chest as she stared up at the boy. His platinum blond hair brushed over his eyes and she moved it away. He gently smiled down at her.

She wanted to close her eyes and pretend everything that happened was fake; she wanted to wake up from this nightmare of a reality. But she knows she can’t. So her eyes searched his face as she remembered everything they’ve done together; everything he’s made her feel. Her heart was shattering all over again, each piece a memory from her life with him that she would have to move on from. Each piece that she would have to pick up when he left because they were too valuable to be left on the ground.

But no matter what, y/n would not cry, because it wouldn’t be fair for Jay.

“Not crying.” she nodded her head. Tears pooled around the corner of her eyes. Jay could see them, and his heart trembled a little. But he has to do this, for both of them. It wasn’t fair, it never would be. They didn’t sign up for this when they signed those contracts. But this is what they needed to do, and upon seeing that she listened and supported him, he didn’t want to make it any harder for her than it already was.

Jay smiled a teary, broken smile. He sniffled and blinked away the tears beginning to sting at his own eyes. He nodded his head in agreement and reached his hand out to run his fingers through her messy hair. His heart wanted one thing, but his head told him something else. It would be okay for him to be selfish for a spare five seconds, right? It wouldn’t hurt, he guessed. So he leaned down and pressed a soft, sparing kiss on her lips. It was short, but it spoke more than a thousand words.

Please take care of yourself, please stay safe, stay healthy. Thank you for loving me, thank you for letting me love you. His soul tears a little when he pulls away, but he quickly holds himself together. He couldn’t break in front of her. It wouldn’t be fair.

note! ahh okay! that’s it that’s the end!! i actually really dislike this, now that i’ve read it over and over again. i’m not too good at this type of stuff, but maybe i’ll get better in the future. i hope you guys liked it, at least a little, and it wasn’t a waste of your time. @nico-nico-niki , since you wanted to be tagged <3

#jay x reader #park jay x reader #jay park x reader #enhypen jay x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen angst #park jeongseong x reader #jeongseong x reader #enhypenwriters

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yumihoe · 3 years

Text

{You'll float too }

A yandere villain Uraraka x gn reader

Wordcount :1.5k

Tw: Mentions of Kidnapping, undescriptive gore , Drugging , abuse ,

Your arm hurt.

That was the first thought as the grogginess of sleep left you. Your arm was pulsing, a rhythmic, heartbeat-like throb. The pain intensifies as the final slithers of sleep slipped away.

Fuck your arm hurt.

You forced yourself to sit up, moving from the fetal position you had tucked yourself into the night before.

The memories of the night's occurrences flooding back into your memory.

Uraraka had strapped you down, onto a gurney of some sort, cooing as she injected one of Kurogiri’s concoctions into the vein on your leg-or had it been your arm -Reassuring you that it would numb you enough that you would hardly feel what she was about to do next.

What- What had she done next? Whatever it was the pain it caused had made you pass out. Which leads to waking up on the cot in the corner.

The room smelled awful. A smell you couldn't exactly pinpoint. Sickenly sweet and rotten all at the same time. The smell so overwhelming that it made you nauseous and that coupled with the pulsating of your arm made your head spin.

You almost laughed to yourself.

What were you expecting? For your prison to smell like roses and fresh fields of lavender? You had managed to be kidnapped by the league of villains. This wasn't a five-star resort.

Of course, it would fucking stink.

You had spent the first two days of your captivity wondering what any other sane person in your position would, Why you?

There had been instances - few- when people were kidnaped by the love to be recruited. you recalled watching the news a while back - while you were in high school - A particular story about a boy, now pro hero Dynamight being kidnapped by the league of villains in his U. days as a failed means to recruit him for their cause.

But that was the problem. Dynamight had a wonderful, flashy quirk, one that landed him the position as number 2 hero. Your quirk was hardly flashy or powerful, a simple healing quirk, one that couldn't even be used to heal yourself. That coupled with your lack of training equated to you being an ordinary civilian.

Maybe they wanted to make an example out of you. Broadcast your death for thousands of viewers, similar to the way the villain Dabi had exposed his father's crimes to the world on a national stage.

It was on The third day of your stay you received your answer.

There was no grand cause, no divine reasoning behind your kidnapping.

She had brought you here on a whim. Because as she put it

“ I saw you and I wanted you, so I took you .”

As if you were a pretty knickknack on the ground, to be picked up and pocketed, instead of a human being.

Maybe there had been more to it than that, but that was all you caught before passing out from the pain again.

Uraraka seemed to take great joy in strapping you down to the makeshift gurney. Round Face tinged red as she shocked and carved and prodded and poked. You were brought here to suffer

no less, no more.

The sound of footsteps edging closer to your room snapped you out of your thoughts. You retracted back into the corner ignoring the searing red pain from your arm as you shriveled back into a ball. Uraraka bounced into the room Flipping on the light switch and shutting the door sharply behind her. Under the pale flickering white light, You took a moment to study her features.

Round face, rosy cheeks, button nose Auburn hair falling on either side of her face.

In another life, you might have said she looked innocent.

Cute.

Albeit except for the all to familiar look of demented infatuation in her oval eyes. The brown orbs seeming to be forever dilated.

“ Your awake “ She stated skipping closer to your huddled form.

“ I was beginning to worry that you lost too much blood while I was giving you your gift.” You pushed yourself further back into the wall as she inched closer to the cot. She ignored your clear discomfort in favor of grabbing at your heavy arm. Now that the room was illuminated you noticed the bandages wrapped tightly around the limb.

“ I took extra care to make sure it doesn't get infected, and ill even have Dabi cauterize it later for you.” She said cheerfully picking at the wrappings. Slowly undoing them.

The wrapping fell onto the cot. Uraraka smiled, admiring her handiwork. Your eyes widened looking at the thing that was making your arm ache so badly.

“Property of Of Ochako Uraraka”

The repulsive branding had been scribbled on your arm in pretty cursive. Starting at the curve of your elbow and ending right before your hand.

The room started spinning.

“ Do you like it pet?”

Her voice sounded far away now, drowned out in your dizziness.

Why was the room spinning?

She looked at you- head cocked to the side slightly, reaching out and forcing your chin straight to make eye contact with her.

“ You really ought to be more grateful you know” She sneered dilated eyes now small, black beads. The look of infatuation was replaced with something- something darker.

“You have no idea how hard it was to convince Shigaraki to let you stay here. Trying to make him believe that worthless little healing quirk of yours could be of use to us.” She sneered, the light fluffiness in her voice gone now.

“ The least you could do is answer me when I speak to you pet.”

Your voice comes out broken and horse, “ W-Why Why could I like this y- your f- fucking sick you cra-

You hear the smack before you feel the sharp tingling on the side of your face.

“ Pet you really must learn to mind your manners .” She hissed. Snatching the collar of your tattered shirt, yanking you upright until you were flush against her face. For a second you were sure she would kill you then and there. With that sick fucking look in her eyes it wouldn't be a stretch. Maybe she would kill you and put you out of your misery. She kept you like that ….staring deeply into your eyes before letting go of your shirt. Your body falling back onto the cot.

“ Come pet, I want to show you something .” She said standing up swiftly. you try to stand up shakily legs quivering. Since you'd been brought here you hadn't been allowed to leave the room. You warily stood up and started to slowly trail behind her.

She skipped cheerfully down the hall and up a flight of rotting wooden stairs. You tried to take in your surroundings as best you could as she pulled you along, But the only thing you recognized was the smell. The same sickenly sweet offsetting smell. It was stronger now, clouding your senses.

You walked for what seemed an eternity - were your legs this sore before? - until she halted suddenly in front of a door at the end of a long hallway.

The sweet rotting smell was the strongest here.

She moved to open the door before stopping and turning around flashing you a sly cat-like smile “ O-OO-OOO” She squealed giddily jumping up and down, “c’mere pet It'll be a surprise “ She yanked you closer to placing your hand on the doorknob. She placed her head in the crook of the neck before covering your eyes with her palms, pinkies on each hand slightly raised as to keep you from floating away. “ I'm going to count down from three and when I reach one I want you to open this door, can you do that for me pet?” She whispered deliriously. You nodded - much too afraid to put up any form of protest. “ Three.” She started, pausing to bite down sharply on your neck.

“Two “ She continued pink tongue darting out to lap at the sweet red liquid from the wound she created.

“one.”

Your hand turned the doorknob and Uraraka urgently ushered you into the room. Flicking on another light switch. The smell coming from the room was enough to make you sick, though Uraraka seemed to be unbothered by it.

You looked around for a second, confused.

Splat

Something wet had fallen on your nose. Your hand reached up to touch the foreign liquid.

To your horror, it was blood.

you slowly tilted your head up to be met by hundreds, no thousands of floating bodies.

Your brain finally registered the suffocating smell

of death. These people were dead.

“ What -what is this.” You choked out .” Uraraka took her hand in yours smiling like a woman possessed.

“ This pet, This is my collection.” She said almost proudly. The room wasn't spinning at this point, it was convulsing. She took your face into her hands squishing your cheeks together.

The room finally stopped moving as you focused in on those brown dilated pupils.

“ See pet the way I see it, you could submit to me, and mind of your fucking manners, learn how to be more fucking grateful or, she said moving closer to ear nibbling at it bit before continuing

“ You'll float too”

yes I got the idea for this from Georgie from It. 😭✋

#yandere #yandere mha #bnha story #my hero imagines #uraraka ochako #ochako uraraka #yandere ochaco uraraka #yanderbnha #wtf is wrong w me #yandere drabble #new blog #writting blog #yandere x reader #gender neutral reader #x gn reader #what am i even writing

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d-pennants · 4 years

Text

Everything we know about Aaravos

This includes stuff from the books, interviews and ComicCon, so spoilers. Updated with a few things from the artbook. I’ll try to keep updating when I come across new info.

Timeline

From Book 1: Moon

Callum’s Spellbook

Historical texts

The Art of the Dragon Prince

And a third page written in Italian was added to the historical texts.

“Last of the Great Ones” is interesting, because Zaird says to Sol Regem his staff was a gift from one of the Great Ones. Sol Regem is alarmed but doesn’t immediately know who Zaird is talking about. So apparently between that conversation and when this text was written all Great Ones except for Aaravos died, and even he ‘fell’.

Also this note about Aaravos not being at full power.

As a ‘fallen’ Startouch elf Aaravos can only access a fraction of his former power.

The spell Zaird used to absorb the sunbirds to create the fireball he used against Sol Regem and the spell that Aaravos casts for Viren to absorb Zym’s power are meant to resemble each other in their swirling vortex. The symbol for Dark Magic also has a swirl in it around a diamond shaped like the one on Aaravos’ chest. This absorption vortex seems to be pretty central to Dark Magic, and it only seems it can be done with the staff Aaravos most likely crafted.

The Show

Zaird staff is the same staff Viren uses. Aaravos recognized it. Given the historical text Aaravos is the “Great One” who gifted Zaird that staff.

Transcripts of all his lines in this post.

Aaravos is the narrator in the opening.

First appearance in S1 from the first war between humans and elves & dragons 1000 years ago.

Elves don’t seem to ride horses, but big cats, dogs, lizards, etc instead. Yet Aaravos choose to depict himself riding a star primal horse (He could make Viren see any creature he wanted). Considering it turns out that unicorns and Startouch elves are the only two star primal creatures humans know about, is he just being dramatic or does this have a deeper meaning?

Mirror in the Dragon King’s lair.

Cocoon

Dragon Prince Website

Bio;

Mysterious and charismatic, Aaravos is a rare kind of elf few have ever seen. He is secretive yet charming, and even Viren finds himself compelled by Aaravos’ cryptic words and gifts.

Height: 6’6 (6’9 with horns) Birthday: November 14th Age: ???

Birthday Vignette;

Aaravos does not count the passage of time in minutes, nor hours, not even days — he counts candles, one after the other, burning themselves down to the wick and a puddle of hot wax. He would run out of candles if it weren’t so easy to reform them with a wave of his hand, as though the burn had never happened.

He thinks sometimes about the way humans count their years: one day every year marks a precious point in their short life spans. They celebrate. They feast. He thinks that if he cared for the idea, he’d like to remember the taste of a smooth red fruit a human had plucked from a tree for him, once.

It had been so crisp, and so sweet.

AMA, Tumblr, Instagram Live

Who are the First Elves?

AE: First Elves are startouch elves, or possibly a subset of startouch elves...

When did the idea of Aaravos come up? How early in the planning of the saga did you guys come up with him?

AE: Justin and I came up with Aaravos very very early. In the early stages we referred to him as "Mirror Mage." We always knew he would be the secret long-game mystery villain... Aaron

Is the Key of Aaravos actually the key of where he was imprisoned?

AE & JR: We can’t tell you.

JR: We don’t even know. We haven’t even discovered the answer yet.

AE: We know! Actually, that was one of the first things we knew at the very beginning. We’ll get to it.

Did Aaravos create dark magic?

AE: No, it was discovered not created. Did Aaravos turn them onto it or help them discover it? That’s very possible. Whether Aaravos played a role in developing their ability to do dark magic. Exploring the possibilities of dark magic.

How could Avizandum (Thunder) imprison such a powerful creature as Aaravos? Can archdragons do such magic or who helped him? This required some collaboration between archdragons and elves

Were you surprised by all the thirsty reactions to Aaravos? Judging from everyone who worked on the show and their reactions, no we weren't surprised :)

Where is Aaravos walking in epsiode 6? And how and where did he a get a horse?

Aaravos can basically make Viren “see” him however he wants, so he chose to appear on the back of a purple horse. There was actually a line in there at one point that we had to cut for time that clarified a bit more heavily -- Viren grumbles at him, “Must you appear... that way?” as Aaravos is floating in the air, and Aaravos replies, “Ah, I can appear more naturally if you’d like,” and then he flips backwards onto the horse as you see in scene in episode 6. :P

which FFXIV classes would the rest of the cast be?

Aaravos - mysterious benevolent ascian

Interviews

There is no Startouch elf society as they’re not numerous enough.

Hot Brown Morning Potion Ep 5

Hypothetically, if Aaravos knew about his own fandom, how would he feel about them?

AE: He takes a special interest in humans, so he would be very pleased that humans appreciate him.

Wondercon 2019 panel Q&A

“The goal of healing and rebuilding the world is going to be a hard one, and especially a hard one when Aaravos, who may have been one of the mysterious forces who pushed the world into this situation, now seems to be on the cusp of returning or trying to return to the world.”

Inverse Season 4 interview

“Practical usable powerful magic, is drawn from the six Primal Sources, but there’s this idea that there’s this kind of earlier, less differentiated power. A kind of magic that’s deeper and more, (I don’t want to kind of say what all of them are). It’s not that important now. It has more to do with the history of beings and interactions and now I feel like I’m talking crazy, but Aaravos cares about some of this stuff and it’s funny, people have worked on a speech in season 5 where he kind of goes into some of this.”

...

“I think he’s complicated. I mean it’s, I think there’s a part of him that is kind, that is generous, that is giving and I think there’s a part of him that is arrogant and desiring to be, you know, worshipped and revered...

He never lies, I don’t know if he’s never lied about anything, if you understand where he’s coming from, he’s not lying about anything. But you don’t necessarily know where he’s coming from. He never lies, he always tells the truth. You’ve heard us talk about Aaravos before, is it Lucifer or Prometheus, who has a relationship with humanity and the gifts and sharing that he has historically have been, you know, you can interpret it differently.”

...

Q: We know he’s mastered all the primal sources, it that like could all of us do that or just him?

A: He’s very special.

Cartoon Universe Season 3 interview

kn: What’s your favorite Greek myth? AE: There are so many intriguing myths to choose from – I think if I have to choose I would say the Prometheus myth. The titan stole fire and gave it to humans, elevating them – and was punished by the gods for this. I feel like there are parallels to the biblical story of the serpent tempting Eve to eat the apple, and its effect on humanity… and the comparisons are sort of fascinating. I am interested in both the mythic/divine messenger who stole/shared these gifts with humanity, and the story of what humans chose to do once they had these gifts.

Korranews interview

Can I just jump back for a minute to the Star elves, can you talk a little bit about them?

Richmond: We can tell you their name, so they’re Startouch elves, is the type of elf they are and kind of no. [Laughs] They’re super, duper rare, they’re very mystical and we have a lot of plans for them, but that’s kind of all I want to give you. Ehasz: They’re mystical, mysterious - the mystical, mysterious Mr. Aaravos. [Laughs] Richmond: That’s the spinoff. [Laughs] Ehasz: Yeah, they are more - I mean, they’re Star Elves and they��re more associated with the heavens and they’re not immortal, but they have more of a time scale that is more like the stars than other elves, so they’re a little bit removed and big picture, but Star Elves have a, I mean, they’re part of mystery and myth and we’re going to meet one this season. I love the actor who plays him is Erik Todd Dellums, who I worked with on Avatar [the Last Airbender] who has an amazing voice and he’s perfect to embody a character like this and we’re excited about this character. We hope the audience is intrigued and ready for more.

Screenrant Season 2 interview

Going back to Aaravos for one second. We’re assuming there’s a reason why he seems to be telling this story — we see his hands at the beginning of each episode in the opening sequence. AE: Yeah, so he’s a Startouch Elf, and they are closest to the heavens of the elves. They’re kind of the most god-like, in the sense of they span much more time than more Earth-bound or Xadia-bound elves. So yeah, he has this thousand year perspective. This kind of mythic role. So he’s like this mythic character who now, suddenly, is kind of popping up in this contemporary story. JR: And obviously, he’s bad enough that they tried to literally erase him from the books. AE: He’s complicated. JR: He’s interesting enough that they tried to erase him from the books. AE: He’s disliked. That’s not the same as bad.

Hyperable season 2 interview

“The name of a very important person to Aaravos will be in the map of a novel, but it will be a long time before you know what that means,” Ehasz said. “A lot of his motivation comes from that relationship.”

Hyperable Season 3 interview (Possible names on the map are Skall’s Hook, the Ruins of Elarion, and Mount Kalik).

The team also teased The Orphan Queen, a new story they hope to tell in the series, books or even in a feature film, which follows a young human girl who starts from nothing and grows up without parents. She takes a dangerous journey to Xadia and ends up saving the world. She’s also Ezran’s first royal ancestor. Ehasz and Richmond said the idea was born when they were imagining where the Key of Aaravos comes from.

Ehasz and Richmond also dug into the timeline of Xadia, and how certain eras will impact both the books and the series. Five thousand years ago, Xadia was in its “mythical, Biblical first days,” a time long before elves and dragons were allied in which humans suffered and struggled. The “rise of Elarion” came around 2,000 years before the events of the series, and saw humans find their way to magic. Around 1200 years ago finds the arch dragon of sun, Sol Regem, as king of the dragons during this era, when dark magic became problematic and humans poached magical creatures for their parts. Shortly after came the division of Xadia. The next big turning point for the world was 300 years before the series, a time Ehasz and Richmond dub “the era of Avizandum.” Two stories they want to tell take place during this era: The Fallen Star and The Orphan Queen. We don’t know anything about The Fallen Star yet ... but we will. The team noted that history will one day know the modern era as “The Return of Aaravos.”

Polygon season 3 interview

Concept Art

Dorothy Yang’s design 'Fallen Star.’ Check out more of her work on ArtStation.

When they were first brainstorming ideas for the show Aaravos had a blindfold, but that was scrapped for being “too on the nose.” This is Giancarlos Volpe’s early sketches that he posted on Twitter.

#aaravos #my notes #tdp analysis #tdp spoilers #spoilers

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its-a-me-disaster · 4 years

Text

Soo, I did a thing. Based off this post with @justalittlebluetiefling

Some C1 spoilers, some C2 spoilers, definitely spoilers from EGTW, definitely tin foil hats. This is going to get long, so strap in folks.

So I’m basing most of my guesses off of Vestiges we know to be in Wildemount (i.e. the ones published in the official EGTW, not the ones that Matt made that are on the Wiki [though I would love to see Beau with the Wraps]).

What we know: we have actually seen one of the new vestiges already! The Wreath of the Prism was used by Arkahn to wrangle his Gloomstalker in the final arc in Thar Amphala. It was the collar thingy. For that reason, I’m guessing it won’t come up in the campaign again. Also, most vestiges are somewhat divine in nature, things that were created by or are in devotion to certain deities, but there are a few that are not (like the spell-swallowing Cabal’s Ruin). This is around the levels that Matt originally gave the vestiges to VM, so we might begin to see hints, especially if the Floating City is as evil as I assume (hope) it is. We also know that several Vestiges tend to be found in their awakened forms already. At these levels dormant vestiges won’t be particularly helpful for long, so I imagine that most of them will be found already awakened or perhaps exalted. Also, vestiges are not just found. Many are in the hands of current wielders and must be either Earned (Mythcarver) or Taken.

Danoth’s Visor: Personally, my favorite vestige that was released with EGTW. It gives Darkvision, and see through matter, and auto-succeed against illusions, and can cast anti magic field when exalted. It gives advantage on perception and investigation checks, and you can make it spyglass mode and double your vision. I think this makes perfect sense for our very special, expositor Beauregard. Making her even better at being an investigator/scout, and giving her a way to completely shut down magic users? Hell yes. Thematically it makes so much sense. Where could it be? This is actually one of few that would make sense for Aeor. It’s not divine based (which is a no-no for a city armed to kill gods), and it was crafted by a pre-Calamity tinkerer. I don’t think it’s in Aeor, partially because I think two others on this list is more likely, but also because it would make sense for it to be somewhere we’ve already been. My guess is it’s in the Happy Fun Ball. So much of that thing is undiscovered, and a secretive archmage would love something like this.

The Grimoire Infinitus: a very magical spellbook that has a whole list of spells preloaded and allows you to use Arcane Recovery multiple times per day, and prepare more spells (must be attuned by a wizard). Well, the only person who loves books more than Beau just happens to be the only wizard in the Nein. Of course Caleb would get this vestige, but where is it? Well, get ready for some serious tinfoil folks, because TRENT IKITHON has the grimoire. That’s right. Caleb gains a vestige by defeating his abuser? We love poetic cinema here. Why else would Trent be so powerful to that no other member of the Assembly has killed him off yet? Because he’s packing serious firepower.

The Infiltrator’s Key: a sneaky little key that gives advantage on stealth checks, lets you cast a whole bunch of spells, transforms into a returning dagger, and lets you open a doorway on any wall. Sounds perfect for our Best Detective, Veth Brenatto. It sounds good for Jester too, but she can already do most of the spells on her own, and has paints that she can make a door from. Veth gets a serious boost to her spell list, and can unattune from the Cloak of Elvenkind without losing anything (she would regain her stealth advantage with the key). But where is this skeleton key? Aeor. I’m betting the first vestige they find is the one that binds Veth to the group until the end of the campaign. It is not a divine vestige, agreeing to the stipulation mentioned earlier. It gives Veth a significant boost, because her subclass is a little underpowered in my opinion, and, she now has a reason to stay: Vestige Hunt.

Verminshroud: this might be my least favorite of the new vestiges, simply because it’s description weirds me out. It gives you a climbing speed, unarmed attacks (d6), resistance to poison, polymorph capabilities (limited to rat, scorpion, wasp) advantage on perception, and insect cloud. Who does that remind you of? I hope you said Caduceus, cause I’m giving this one to him. It fits his aesthetic very well, and gives him a little more utility. Plus, giving advantage on perception to the highest perception in the group? Only good things. This is probably the easiest to place by saying Blightshore. That’s where it was made, and probably resides. If I had to guess I would say it’s in that incredibly creepy tower that partially got sucked into Rumblecusp (go back and read some of the meta when they found it, now that was a rabbit hole).

Stormgirdle: now this is the second easiest one to place, partially because the Grimoire can only be used by one person. Strength buffs up to 25 (one lower than Grog) and a Storm Avatar ability that is sweet, Yasha gets to take home a cool new sub race, and an awesome Vestige-fueled power up. I really thought that this was going to be on Rumblecusp, so I have no idea where it might be. Theoretically, it could be anywhere, but I’ll give three guesses because I’m bummed it wasn’t on Rumblecusp (and this post isn’t long enough anyway). There’s a village in Eiselcross (but not near the ruins) filled with Orcs that revere the Storm Lord, so it could make sense. It’s worn by the Tribe Leader that Yasha fled from (so much drama, so much angst, I love it). Or, it’s at the Third Seal that we never saw for the old Snea Snake. I don’t think that one is likely, because the Nein could have encountered it WAY earlier then, but I think it would be cool to tie Fjord and Yasha’s arcs together again.

Hide of the Feral Guardian: this is one I think the debate could rage over. It’s studded leather blessed by Melora that really deals it’s best advantages to Druids. Up to +3 on attacks in any changed form (so polymorph or Beast Shape are the only ways), free polymorphs into specific animals, and up to +3 in AC. The reason this debate could rage is because thematically it makes a lot of sense for both Fjord and Cad. It definitely helps them both, but because the Verminshroud fits so nicely on Cad, I’m giving this one to Fjord. (Or, surprise 3rd option: they trade it to Keyleth who gives one of them the Spire of Conflux, which makes Fjord a BEAST, or Caduceus the most well-rounded out of all of them [severe damage from elemental spells, +healing, +utility/skills]) Fjord with this can ditch his mariners armor, which doesn’t buy him anything because of his Invocation anyway, and fully buy into his Paladin side. Fjord becomes the most well decked out, with Vestige Armor, Star Razor, and the whole Hexadin power jump that we’ll see in the next few levels. I think the location is pretty clear for this one. We haven’t seen it in any of the sanctuaries Cad brought us to, so it has to be in Molaesmyr. Similar to Fenthras, maybe a wielder of it ended up corrupting the Savalier Wood and is poisoning it. Fjord saves Cad’s home after Cad saves Fjord, and Fjord ends up with two extremely powerful items from Molaesmyr, excellent.

I know in this scenario Jester doesn’t get a Vestige, but there are more out there outside of Wildemount. Plus, Matt has shown through Rumblecusp that he still tinkers with his version of Wildemount and has plans that aren’t detailed in the EGTW. So maybe there’s a hidden vestige we don’t know about?

#critical role #cr #dnd #cr2 #vestiges of divergence #cr meta #Cr fan theory #tin foil hat #conspiracy theory: engage!#did I ignore an exam I have tomorrow to write this? yes #do I regret it? maybe a little #egtw

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legobiwan · 4 years

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Thrawn: Treason (the rest of it)

Wow, Assistant Director Assbucket is the literal worst, I can’t believe Thrawn foisted him on Ar’alani at the end that poor woman puts up with a lot with Thrawn I never thought I’d live to see the day Grand Admiral “I have a plan for everything” Thrawn being the insane troublemaker of the Chiss.

Anyone notice Eli was starting to sounds a little...Thrawn-ish towards the end of the book? At least, when he was reassuring Vah'nya he would kill her and the other navigators if the Chiss fell to the Grysks???

But let’s back up a moment to the mission on Aloxor. ONCE AGAIN, I am so happy to see Thrawn’s strange cosplay fetish rearing its head, right where (or perhaps I should say wear hahahahah I’m so funny I’ll be here all night, make sure to try the chicken) it belongs - with Eli Vanto.

I love that Ronan cannot let go of his stupid cloak given to him by the Supreme Being of All Light and Intelligence Director Krennic what is Ronan’s deal with Krennic???

But Mole/Dayja had it right when said all people in charge love capes. Hahahahahahaha. Too right.

Savit’s little internal monologue about petty politics and corruption being the death of the Empire was really interesting because - as we all remember - the exact same accusation was lobbed at the Republic. And the Republic was bloated and corrupt and ruled by petty politics that ended up drawing the Jedi in and that didn’t end well but the same thing is happening in the Empire, just on an accelerated time-scale. Which makes me wonder, did Sidious believe that once the Death Star was up and running, it would quell any grumblings because everyone would just be too terrified to say otherwise? I mean, what was Sidious’s endgame being immortality and ultimate power? What do you even do at that point? (This gets a little close to the philosophical debate that death gives meaning and Sidious’s whole thing was avoiding death and I just kind of wonder what the point is after a while. Ultimate POWAH, I suppose.)

ANWAY.

Who was it in the book that pointed out that every weapon, ship, etc has a weak point, including the Death Star? I feel like it was Thrawn, but maybe it was Savit. Anyway, hahahaha foreshadowng.

Okay, so Savit was playing Imperial Robin Hood, stealing from Stardust to arm the rest of the Navy because he felt Stardust was both shortsighted and an onus on the budget. He’s not wrong. The Death Star is kind of a stupid gamble, and you have to wonder if Sheevy Sheev was getting a little too confident (as Luke pointed out in RotJ) and thus put all of his space eggs in one space basket. I mean, the man loves consolidating power, and a Death Star is just another step in that direction - but...it’s a bad idea??????

BUT. THE MUSIC THING WITH SAVIT HAD ME ROLLING. You guys have to understand, I finished listening to this while I was out on my run and I was laughing so hard at this scene I just had to stop on the street, double over, and cackle loudly through my mask. Thankfully, we’re still shut down over here, so there were fewer people to stare at me like I was insane, but this was great.

First of all, Savit arguing that he’s not an artist, he’s a musician and then between that the Ronan commenting on the hand gestures I knew exactly where this was going to go and it didn’t disappoint one bit.

I love that Thrawn says music is too up to interpretation, ah yes, composition - the true death of the author. (And the true death of the composer, who is likely spinning in their grave.) Except Ronan Savit plays (and conducts!) his own works. Starting with the high winds (of course, there are too many high wind players out there, market’s tight you have broaden your activities hahahahahahahaha), and then expanding as he gained status. I’m not entirely sure how this fed into his patronage/favors by the Coruscanti elite (did they just really like increasingly bombastic music?) but I’m totally willing to roll with it.

Anyway, this was GREAT I needed this ridiculousness in my life I’m so glad that whole conversation from the beginning of the book between Krennic and Savit came back. I love Thrawn and his art analysis classes can I audit the next one? Just for fun?

By the way, I am so glad Zahn didn’t go down the romance route with Eli and Vah'nya, I was a little afraid of that but it was unfounded.

But Eli. Ohhhh Eli. Your secret mission that you don’e even know about aboard the Steadfast. He’s analyzing numbers and data from Navigators in order for the Ascendancy to be able to locate future Navigators and perhaps gain insight into their skill. Their skill is Third Sight (and rarely, Second Sight), which is essentially Force-sensitivity. The Chiss are trying to locate Force-sensitives. As in, trying to create something like the holocron in the Jedi Archives that listed Force-sensitive babies. Hooooo boi. Sidious would want to get his paws on that and I think Thrawn knows that. Thrawn, despite his loyalty to the Empire (loyalty that goes deep enough that he brought in Savit despite likely agreeing with him on the objective facts of Stardust draining the budget). This, however, has to be a line in the sand. And it harkens back to something Eli was pondering earlier, about where both his and Thrawn’s true loyalties were.

Hooray both Eli and Faro got a promotion. Thrawn is such a good boss.

Okay, but the ending. *deep breath* Here we go. This happens, I believe, pretty close to the ending of Rebels. Now, I’ve seen discussions where people believe Thrawn was neutered on Rebels, especially with the somewhat deus ex machina ending. I’m in the middle of a rewatch so I won’t comment further on that until I’ve gotten through it, but here’s my initial reading, just based on instinct. Sidious is planning to either eliminate Thrawn or use him to conquer the Chiss. Sidious doesn’t know about the Force-sensitive list Eli is creating, but if Sidious got to the Chiss, he’d get that list and it would be bad times for everyone. Thrawn is not as politically naive as he allows everyone to think, at least not with this. He’s been playing both sides to the middle for a long time now and between Sidious and the Grysks, he is going to be forced to choose. I just wonder how much of that plays into the ending on Rebels, how Thrawn deals with Lothal, and - given his penchant for acquiring certain non-Chiss for the Ascendancy - what his possible plan for Ezra may have been (especially given what we know about the Second and Third Sight). I won’t say much more until I finish my rewatch, but those questions are floating around my head.

To summarize: it was a delight seeing Thrawn with some of his people and knowing he’s a weirdo there, as well. Thrawn and Eli together is still the absolute best combination and I wish we had more of it. Ronan is an ass and I hate him. Ar’alani just needs a damn drink to deal with all of these fools, Thrawn most of all. I would say out of the three, the first novel is still my favorite, but this comes in a close second and I really hope we get a fourth novel at some point. 9/10

#hello there #thrawn treason #grand admiral thrawn #eli vanto #grand admiral savit #Karyn Faro #admiral ar'alani #brierly ronan #legobiwan listens to a book

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bsd-bibliophile · 4 years

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BSD-Bibliophile 2019 Top Ten

#10 Post:

I’m in no position to stand above humanity, acting as prosecutor, or judge. I have no right to condemn others. I am a child of evil. Beyond redemption. I suspect my past sins are fifty or a hundred times greater than yours.

- Dazai Osamu, “Thinking of Zenzo” from Self Portraits

#9 Post:

I hate the idea of getting old and ugly, you know. I’m not so afraid of dying, but the ravages of age just don’t match my aesthetic.

- Dazai Osamu, “Urashima-san” from Otogizoshi

#8 Post:

#7 Post:

Disappearing into the darkened sky, The longing that consumed me in my youth-

Resembling the stars of a summer night as ever, Obscured in the vast distances as ever.

Disappearing into the darkened sky, The hope, the dream of my youth.

I just grovel on the ground here Like some kind of beast, thoughts darken

There’s no way of knowing When those darkened thoughts will break.

It’s as if I’m drowning in the ocean And can see the moon glowing overhead.

Now that the wave is so swollen, And the rising moon so crisp,

This longing that consumed me in my youth of quiet sadness Is on its way to disappearing into the darkened night.

- Nakahara Chūya, “Lost Hope” from Poems of the Goat

#6 Post:

#5 Post:

Nakahara Chūya Trivia

His old surname was Kashiwamura. Later on, because the Nakahara family (his mother’s side) was a wealthy landowner, his surname was changed to Nakahara.

He was a prodigy in elementary school. However, when his brother died in 1915, he turned to composing poetry out of sorrow. He later failed middle school because he was too engrossed in literature.

He translated around 60 poems by the French poet Arthur Rimbaud into Japanese. Due to their similar lifestyles, he gained the nickname ‘The Japanese Rimbaud’. (Other Source)

He had a mistress, Hasegawa Yasuko, when he was 17; she was noted to be older and taller than him. However, the following year, she left Nakahara to live with his best friend Kobayashi Hideo, which frustrated him greatly. (Other Source)

After Kobayashi left Hasegawa, she married and had a child; she named Nakahara Chuuya the child’s godfather.

Chuuya was noted to adore children, and spoiled them rotten. When his eldest son, Fumiya, died at the age of two, Chuuya had a mental breakdown and had to be hospitalized for a month.

After his death, Hasegawa Yasuko established the Nakahara Chuuya Prize to honor him. The prize only lasted a few years, with Tachihara Michizou as one of its notable winners. Another award with the same name was established in 1996 by Yamaguchi City.

He greatly looked up to Miyazawa Kenji, and he had been noted to hum Miyazawa’s poems from time to time.

He once spent a month in jail for smashing street lamps while in a drunken rage.

He was 151.5 cm (about 4'11.5") in height. The Bungou Stray Dogs version of Chuuya is 160 cm, so they actually made him taller.

He remained close friends with Kobayashi Hideo all his life, and entrusted the manuscript for Songs of Bygone Days to him while on his deathbed.

He died at age 30 due to cerebral meningitis.

Because of their lyrical qualities, many of his poems were used as lyrics in songs.

It is possible to buy an exact replica of his hat from the Nakahara Chuuya Memorial Museum.

“Some of Nakahara’s images and metaphors may strike the Western reader as strange. Notes have been provided wherever helpful, but in general this strangeness is not a product of any culture gap, nor of the translation process. It is Nakahara’s own.” - from the Note on Translation from The Poems of Nakahara Chūya

Nakahara worked one the only issue of the Blue Flower Magazine with Dazai Osamu and the two hated each other immediately. Dazai Osamu invited Kazuo Dan and Chuya to a bar in Higashi Nakano and described Chuya as looking like “a blue mackerel floating in the sky.” (Source 1, Source 2)

His ideal woman, the inspiration for his poem Michiko, was Hayama Michiko (the screen name of Ishikawa Seiko). She was also Tanizaki Junichirou’s sister-in-law and the model for the character Naomi in his novel A Fool’s Love. (Source)

(Trivia Source: Bungo to Alchemist Wiki *italicized sections are added by me* - Image Source: tsukiko-ciah.tumblr.com)

#4 Post:

If you have only watched episode 31 of Bungou Stray Dogs and have not read chapter 39 of the manga, this is definitely worth reading. If you only watch the anime you are missing out.

If you’re not convinced check out my analysis under the cut.

Bungou Stray Dogs is more than just an anime series full of supernatural powers, action scenes, and tension between a detective agency and the mafia. The series is based on world famous literary figures, and by doing so invites its readers to compare BSD to the beloved authors and literary masterpieces it features. You are supposed to look closely at the characters, their backgrounds, development, and compare them to the authors and literary characters who inspired them. You are supposed to look closely at the plot, dissect it, notice foreshadowing, and analyze how events are sequenced and presented. Asagiri Kafka, the author of BSD, has obviously written the series in a way that gives bibliophiles a chance to compare, analyze, and dissect the series to their heart’s content.

The anime does a great job of making the characters Harukawa35 created move and interact in a beautifully animated world. The voice actors put everything they had into their performances and as a result the characters have very distinct voices that reflect the characters’ personalities and traits and draws audiences deeper into the world and story of BSD. The action scenes and moments of suspense are amazing to watch with a heart pounding soundtrack to match. Visually and audibly the series is superb.

However, if you only watch the anime then you are missing out on a lot of the details that make BSD so intricate and adds all the depth to the series. The anime has only so much time, and as a result various moments, scenes, and characters get cut. The anime also has a tendency to prioritize certain characters above others, so anime viewers see a lot of a handful of characters but don’t get to see the other characters’ scenes, backstories, and character development in their entirety. As scenes and characters are changed or left out in the anime the world of BSD gradually drifts away from the manga until ensuring the continuity of the anime means the series becomes more of its own entity and less connected to the manga. Of course the anime has not moved so far away from the manga that it has become its own entity, but there are distinct differences and unique atmospheres that are not shared between the anime and manga.

And that brings me to how the material in chapter 39 was presented in episode 31. There are three important facts in the chapter that makes it so powerful and memorable to readers:

Atsushi’s experiences at the orphanage: In season 1 on the anime there are various short flashbacks to when Atsushi was living at the orphanage. All are very brief, focus on Atsushi sitting helplessly as verbal abuse is heaped on him, and they are shown repeatedly to emphasize how deeply these experiences have affected Atsushi. Because of that when you see a new moment from Atsushi’s past you instinctively pay attention and notice how it is different from the flashbacks you had seen before. In chapter 39 the flashbacks are more than a mere few seconds where a few words are spoken and we see a helpless Atsushi; these flashbacks are complete stories about very specific instances where Atsushi was blamed, ridiculed, beaten, publicly humiliated, forced to have his foot nailed to the floor, had an unknown liquid injected into his system, was locked up, and taught some very important lessons that he didn’t understand at the time but would make him into the amazing protagonist he turned out to be. Episode 31 did not show any of these scenes in their entirety, condensing them into eight seconds of minute representations of the horrors Atsushi experienced, and only showed one part of an exchange between the young Atsushi and the Headmaster. Considering that Atsushi is the series protagonist it is strange that so much information that is vital to understanding Atsushi’s character was condensed into one third of an anime episode (while Kyouka’s backstory took up two thirds of the same episode).

The way Atsushi views his relationship to the Headmaster compared to how Akutagawa and Dazai view it: Chapter 39 shows Atsushi’s initial reaction the the Headmaster’s death as a kind of manic joy, which is also accurately portrayed in episode 31. Tanizaki, in both the manga and anime, is obviously concerned that Atsushi would be so overjoyed at someone’s death, even if it is the Headmaster who caused Atsushi to suffer so much. However, it is only in chapter 39 that Atsushi admits that he knew very little about the Headmaster and only knew “that he was the king of that small, small country,” the orphanage. That is the first hint that the way Atsushi remembers the Headmaster is skewed because he was so young and ignorant at the time. To Atsushi it is only natural to hate the man who he believed disliked him and tortured him because of it, but to outside parties like Akutagawa and Dazai the situation looks different. It is only in the manga that Dazai helps with the case by contacting an informant and sending Atsushi to meet them. The informant turns out to be Akutagawa. Atsushi and Akutagawa are foils, so while they are opposites they also complement each other which makes Akutagawa the perfect person to throw a wrench in Atsushi’s way of thinking. Akutagawa proves through the information he gathered that the Headmaster was not in Yokohama to do any harm to Atsushi, but to sell a gun in order to buy something and that there was no foul play that lead to his death. Akutagawa is also the only person to point out that while Dazai taught him, the Headmaster taught Atsushi and says he will let Atsushi off the hook today because it is “the anniversary of [his] mentor’s death.” Later when Atsushi doesn’t know how to feel after learning that the Headmaster had come to Yokohama to give him flowers and congratulate him on the person he had become, Dazai is the one to refer to the Headmaster as Atsushi’s father. It is only after this that Atsushi understands the role the Headmaster played in his life and he is finally able to cry and face his emotions and confusion surrounding the Headmaster’s death.

How the Headmaster’s past influenced the way he raised Atsushi: If you only watched the anime then you would have absolutely no idea how amazing and complex a character the Headmaster is! He didn’t just happen to become the Headmaster of an orphanage. When he was a child he grew up in an orphanage, “experienced a hellish life” that made the orphanage Atsushi grew up in “seem like heaven,” graduated from the orphanage only to join the criminal underworld, and he watched as all his friends from the orphanage died and he was the lone survivor. After becoming the Headmaster he, because of his past experience, recognized Atsushi had an ability and hid it from the rest of the orphanage until Atsushi was 18 in order to protect him. He knew how Atsushi would be hunted down and mistreated because of his ability and did the best he could, considering the horrible upbringing he had himself, to teach Atsushi to hate those who would hurt him and do everything he could to survive. The Headmaster taught Atsushi to be who he is and enabled him to have the will and determination to become the person who would save a drowning man while he himself is nearly dead from hunger, throw himself over a bomb to try and protect people in a detective agency he doesn’t know, risk his place in the Agency in order to save Kyouka and rescue her from a hopeless situation, and risk his own life to stop the Guild and become the hero who saved Yokohama. Can you imagine how proud and relieved the Headmaster must have been to learn that Atsushi was not only alive but had saved countless lives? How comforted he must have been knowing that his worst fears of Atsushi being killed, resorting to crime and living in a worse hell than the orphanage, or being tortured or used because of his ability had not become a reality! How could he be considered anything other than a proud father who wants to find and congratulate the son he raised? In my opinion, the absolute worst thing the anime has done is deprive its viewers the Headmaster’s complex and incredible character. Without knowing him there is no way of understanding what Atsushi truly felt and how much he grew to understand himself and his place in the world as a result of learning about the Headmaster’s past and what he had risked and sacrificed for him.

To me the anime’s biggest disappointment is how they treat the protagonist. The most important chapter for understanding Atsushi’s character and what makes him protagonist material has been squeezed into 7 minutes and 43 seconds of an anime episode (about 1/3 of an episode). As the protagonist he at least deserves his own episode explaining his backstory, or the two thirds of an episode that Kyouka got for her backstory. Asagiri Kafka and Harukawa35 took the time to create a vivid portrayal of Atsushi’s childhood and him learning what role the Headmaster really played in raising Atsushi. The writing in this chapter was superb. The characters were deep and fleshed out. The plot and the way evidence and memories were presented were so powerful people were dreading seeing it play out in the anime because it had that big of an effect on them. After getting ready for the most emotional chapter in the series to be animated, actually watching the episode was a major let down in so many ways.

I will always remember chapter 39 and what it taught me about humanity, perspective, and the influence one person can have on another. Reading it changed me as much as reading No Longer Human has, and I am just as fond of it as I am of Dazai Osamu’s works. What Atsushi and his battle to overcome his past represents has already helped me overcome some of my own demons. I hope more BSD fans will read the manga, and I mean really read it the way you would a work of literature, and allow the characters and writing to really sink in as they read. The manga is just that powerful and that relatable, because all of us have felt like the outcast, all of us have had our own demons from out past that haunt us even after they are dead, and all of us are looking for a place to belong and the power to conquer ourselves.

#3 Post:

No one realized that I had become insane; when I recovered nobody could tell the difference.

- Dazai Osamu, “Toys” from Dazai Osamu: Selected Stories and Sketches

#2 Post:

Nakahara Chuuya - “Poem of the Sheep”

Intention, thou art old dark vapour; begone from my heart! I now hope for nothing more than simplicity and peaceful murmurs and, at any rate, neatness.

Society, thou art indulgence of gloomy filth; do not wake me up again! I now will try to endure solitude, my arms already seem like useless things.

Thou, eyes opening wide in suspicion, eyes not moving for a while as they open. Ah, heart that believes too much in what is outside itself.

Intention, though art old dark vapour; begone from my heart! Begone! Apart from my poor dreams, nothing interests me.

Dazai Osamu - No Longer Human

“You might say that I still have no understanding of what makes human beings tick. My apprehension on discovering that my concept of happiness seemed to be completely at variance with that of everyone else was so great as to make me toss sleeplessly and groan night after night in my bed. It drove me indeed to the brink of lunacy. I wonder if I have actually been happy.”

“Whenever I was asked what I wanted my first impulse was to answer ‘Nothing.’ The thought went through my mind that it didn’t make any difference, that nothing was going to make me happy.”

Mori Ogai - Vita Sexualis

“There are things which everyone does but which one does not mention to others.”

(FIFTEEN spoilers below)

Arthur Rimbaud - “A Season in Hell”

A while back, if I remember right, my life was one long party where all hearts were open wide, where all wines kept flowing.

One night, I sat Beauty down on my lap.—And I found her galling.—And I roughed her up.

I armed myself against justice.

I ran away. O witches, O misery, O hatred, my treasure’s been turned over to you!

I managed to make every trace of human hope vanish from my mind. I pounced on every joy like a ferocious animal eager to strangle it.

I called for executioners so that, while dying, I could bite the butts of their rifles. I called for plagues to choke me with sand, with blood. Bad luck was my god. I stretched out in the muck. I dried myself in the air of crime. And I played tricks on insanity.

And Spring brought me the frightening laugh of the idiot.

So, just recently, when I found myself on the brink of the final squawk! it dawned on me to look again for the key to that ancient party where I might find my appetite once more.

Charity is that key.—This inspiration proves I was dreaming!

“You’ll always be a hyena etc… ,“ yells the devil, who’d crowned me with such pretty poppies. “Deserve death with all your appetites, your selfishness, and all the capital sins!”

Ah! I’ve been through too much:-But, sweet Satan, I beg of you, a less blazing eye! and while waiting for the new little cowardly gestures yet to come, since you like an absence of descriptive or didactic skills in a writer, let me rip out these few ghastly pages from my notebook of the damned.

Paul Verlaine - Oh, Heavy, Heavy My Despair

Oh, heavy, heavy my despair, Because, because of One so fair. My misery knows no allay, Although my heart has come away. Although my heart, although my soul, Have fled the fatal One’s control. My misery knows no allay, Although my heart has come away. My heart, the too, too feeling one, Says to my soul, 'Can it be done, 'Can it be done, too feeling heart, That we from her shall live apart?’ My soul says to my heart, 'Know I What this strange pitfall should imply, 'That we, though far from her, are near, Yea, present, though in exile here?’

Note: These poems were selected simply because they reminded me of the plot in FIFTEEN.

#1 Post:

Looking for something to read on Halloween?

“Hell Screen” by Akutagawa Ryūnosuke

Kappa by Akutagawa Ryūnosuke

“The Human Chair” by Edogawa Ranpo

“Love After Death” by Yumeno Kyūsaku

“Hell in a Bottle” by Yumeno Kyūsaku

“The Holy Man of Mt. Koya” by Izumi Kyōka

“The Tattooer” by Tanizaki Jun'ichirō

“In the Forest, Under the Cherries in Full Bloom” by Sakaguchi Ango

“Fish Scales” by Shibusawa Tatsuhiko

The Decagon House Murders by Ayatsuji Yukito

In Rashomon and Seventeen Other Stories by Akutagawa Ryūnosuke:

Rashomon (pg. 48)

In a Bamboo Grove (pg. 54)

The Spider Thread (pg. 79)

Hell Screen (pg. 82)

In Japanese Tales of Mystery and Imagination by Edogawa Ranpo:

The Human Chair (pg. 14)

The Caterpillar (pg. 76)

The Hell of Mirrors (pg. 117)

The Red Chamber (pg. 151)

These stories and books are included in my Online Library along with many others! The stories listed here are only a handful of the dark, terrifying tales written by the Japanese authors who inspired BSD, but they are all easily accessible and ones I would recommend.

Happy Halloween and happy reading!

#happy new year #2019 most popular posts #bsd-bibliophile #japanese literature #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd

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alternativewinxcontinuity · 3 years

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Well, I read the ‘sneak peak’. God I hope they cut a lot out because there were places where the pacing felt like they cut something out.

The was... a general level of ‘I think I’d have more fun beating my head against the wall’, but there were a few places where I had some things that needed to be said.

Under the cut because I’ve included the full available text in addition to my b*tchy little notes.

So I’ve just realised the whole thing +sneak peak is 14,232 words, that’s a bit excessive for a single post.

I might leave just the snark here (I chucked the +sneak peak chapters up on AO3, it’s just for more contexts.)

Prologue

Under her list of ideas, she’d written the results of her experiments.

July 6th—candles—no burns.

July 8th—camping stove—no burns.

July 10th—blowtorch—no burns.

Experimenting on herself had been scary, but not as scary as the memory of her home burning.

You set shit on fire and your only experiments thus far are: “does this burn me? How about this?” CHILD! Start with a candle, a lighter and a f*cking FIRE EXTINGUISHER and practice putting out a single flame!!!! Then: light a single candle!

Stop putting your hand in fire if it scares you! “I am this many kinds of fire proof” does not equal “control of fire so I don't hurt anyone else”!!!!

Also, the wall behind the woman had opened into a shimmering portal of light. Just another clue that something unusual was going on.

Bloom waved this off. “Is this the part where you tell me I’m magic now?”

“You always were, Bloom,” said Headmistress Dowling. “You just didn’t know it yet.”

That was enough. She might have mysterious powers that were out of control, the world might be going mad, but her parents hadn’t raised her to listen to strange adults who approached in the dead of night with what sounded like a cult recruitment speech. Bloom snorted, abandoned her sleeping bag, and made for the door.

The woman’s voice stopped her at the mouth of the warehouse.

“I know about the fire, Bloom.”

Bloom trembled like a candle flame in a gust of wind. Slowly, she turned around. The woman was watching her with a steady gaze, keen but not unkind.

“Where are you going? You can’t go home. You’re too afraid you’ll hurt your parents again.”

Headmistress Dowling was right.

Kay, so obvious magic goes unremarked upon, not even a “nice trick with the lights, is that suppose to convince me”.

Also, either someone's been stalking Bloom, or Dowling is some kind of Mind Fairy.

FIRE

Once upon a time, it was my favorite possession, the fanciest book I owned, with golden swirls on the cover. But I’d grown up and packed the book into my old toy chest along with my teddy bears. I’d thought I was long past fairy tales.

That was before I used magic to burn down my house. My toy chest and my fairy-tale book had burned, too.

Creators kick my nostalgia for the lulz: 01

My book of fairy tales hadn’t included a swarm of kids around my age. One long-legged, capable-looking African American chick strode by, wearing a denim jacket and carrying a bag full of athletic gear. Wait, she wasn’t African American. Fairies didn’t have Africa or America. I didn’t know the name of the fairy realm I was currently in. Also, I hadn’t pictured fairies being into extreme sports.

Another girl, pale with a cloud of brown hair, was clutching several plants to her bosom as she hurried across the courtyard. A third sauntered by, vaguely punk rock and olive-skinned and wearing enormous headphones that buzzed faintly on her ears. I hadn’t pictured fairies rocking out, either.

Oh look, this Bloom also subscribes to the: “it's not whitewashing if they're aliens” theory

There was a rangy guy with skinny jeans, overly sardonic eyebrows, and a knife-bridge nose. California had plenty of white boy edgelords, but this edgelord had an actual knife. Oh no, actual knife! I wasn’t interested in getting to know Knife Boy better.

Called out Riven.

A stunning blonde girl with porcelain skin was taking a selfie with a group of overawed younger students. A luminous wisp floated in the air, making her glossy hair shine. Talk about a beauty angle. Seemingly, fairies could create their own beauty lighting.

Bloom is gay for Stella count: 01

I sneaked a look at him and grinned. His hair had coiffed peaks like a gold helmet and his shirt was pink, which I liked because gender stereotypes were for the weak. He even had a summer tan that fishbelly-pale redheaded me could only dream of. But no matter how cute he was, I wasn’t going to encourage him.

“I guess that means we have to do this forever. There are worse things, but—”

I stopped and turned to him. “I don’t need help, but thanks.”

Now I was looking at him properly, Some Guy was very cute, with a hero jawline and a confident air. Some Guy might be cute, but I was the independent type.

By the way, it's very important you all know that Bloom is a strong independent woman™ who scoff at gender roles, because she's hip and edgy, but she's like, totes not an edgelord(!) She's cool(!) Even if she hates her super pale skin.

Some of the chandeliers in this place were so dainty and delicate, they looked like stars suspended on gilt ribbons. The rooms were large and bright, with sunbeams dyed by stained-glass windows that were as intricate as the embroidery on a princess’s hem. Much of the stained glass was different shades of green, subtly coloring the air around us as though we were in a world made of jade and emerald.

Welcome to the Emerald City of Oz?

She continued talking, full of ennui about the fairy-tale castle, while I sneaked another look at her ring. “If you ever want to go back,” Stella said as she deliberately flashed it at me. She was making some kind of power play, and I didn’t know why.

Stella might be a bitch now, but I'm pretty sure It's only because Stella is also Diaspro in this reality?

FIRE

There was a realm called Eraklyon, which sounded like a dragon clearing its throat.

I mean... that's one way to pronounce it? I guess?

FIRE

I’d do anything for my parents, including lie to them about my new boarding school in Definitely Switzerland.

Your parents didn't ask about any paper work? They just accepted that you were moving overseas without warning? Who's paying for this alleged boarding school? Actually how are you paying for school?

We’d get dressed up and she’d play me cheerleader-type music. I remembered one chant that went Close your eyes and open your heart! The cheesy brainwashing hadn’t worked. I never much cared about frilly princess gowns, but I liked the idea of being at home in my princess castle.

Creators kick my nostalgia for the lulz: 02

In what beautiful blonde Stella had called the Winx suite—a bright series of rooms with tall windows and a view I couldn’t allow my parents to see—only one person got a room of their own. To my total lack of surprise, that person was Stella.

Bloom is gay for Stella count: 02

Creators kick my nostalgia for the lulz: 03

Really? That's how you're chosing to shoe-horn the Winx brand in? It just happens to be the name of their dorm. Sorry, their 'suite'.

When Mom, always waiting for my transformation into Ms. Popular, asked about the other girls, I shrugged. “Honestly, it’s five girls in an enclosed space, so … it’s only a matter of time before we descend into a Lord of the Flies situation and kill one another.”

So... no. Lord of the Flies is an extension of a study in relation to a very specific mono-ethnic (white), male and privileged group. It is literally young rich white boys, and the break down in community and sense of ethics that results in their single bias attitudes in the face of adversity.

The Winx are firstly female, multi-ethnic (not as much as they should be) and from a variety of socioeconomic backgrounds. If it devolves into murder, it will be vicious but it will not be “Lord of the Flies.” Find a better reference.

I busied myself with unpacking to hide my discomfort. “Ms. Dowling said there’s a fairy somewhere in my family tree? A long-dormant magical bloodline?” I sighed. “One day I will get used to how ridiculous all this sounds.”

Aisha’s surprise became wry amusement. “Oh my God. Have I just met the one person in the universe who’s never read Harry Potter?”

… why is that your conclusion? Long lost princess/prince/hero/magical heir swept up for adventure is a common trope. It doesn't make it feel any less ridiculous.

I wondered if any of my new suitemates ever felt that way. Happy bustling Terra, cool girl Musa, glamorous Stella, and Aisha who seemed so grounded.

It is so amazing how the girls that Bloom just happened to notice outside, you know, the only girls Bloom noticed outside, are all her roommates.

MIND

Terra’s super sweet voice revved into overdrive, picking up speed and frantic pleasantness on the way. “She’s just having fun. And I know it’s a lot. Shocker, Earth Fairy named Terra likes plants. It’s a family thing. I’ve got a cousin named Flora. My mom’s name is Rose, and my dad works in the greenhouse here. That’s why I know a lot of the second years. I grew up around Alfea, and—”

ohp, there it is

Creators kick my nostalgia for the lulz:04

“Stella’s a second year? Why is she in a suite full of first years?”

“Oh yeah. Actually … I don’t know. Some administrative thing last year? I mean, I think …”

I think you’re lying, thought Musa. She turned her back and dipped her power toward Terra, getting a faint sense that …

Somehow I doubt it was blowing up a potions lab in pursuit of a new shade of pink.

SPECIALIST

Less cool was Sky, Riven’s super annoying best friend in the whole world, who was rattling on about the ginger girl from the human world he’d met yesterday. Riven was sure she was crazy. He knew this because crazy was what Sky looked for in a woman.

So Riven is Riven and Brandon, okay.

I hate these assholes.

Riven bared his teeth. “Correction: I got high this summer.”

… : /

There was no real point trying to beat Sky. He was the best. Anyone in Alfea could tell you that … right after they told you Riven was the worst.

There was no real point, but Riven kept trying to beat Sky, anyway. Hey, nobody ever said Riven was smart.

… >:(

Sky’s dad was Andreas of Eraklyon, the dead legendary hero, slayer of the Burned Ones. Sky’s dad-substitute was Specialist Headmaster Silva, their fearless leader with the cold blue eyes and passion for early morning runs.

So many dead parents suddenly

He passed the blue, shimmering Barrier and went into the deep, dark woods. He could almost hear Silva’s voice now, telling the first years that the Barrier was their magical shield against the Burned Ones. Beware those merciless monsters with their inhuman strength and speed, never mind that nobody’s seen one in sixteen years, woo woo, so scary.

And Bloom is how old? Also: guess who’s about to start showing up suddenly! Trick question, it’s the Burned Ones, the ones we’ve already been told are the new series’ enemy.

EARTH

Their suite was called the Winx suite, which was such a cool name. Maybe they could call themselves the Winx Club?

Yep, they're going with that, okay.

You couldn’t even name the suit Wings in the kind of obnoxious cursive that makes it look like Winx and have Bloom misread it and become a running joke amongst the girls?!?!?!

Terra nervously eyed the food laid out on the tables before them. Sometimes she felt as if food might bite her before she bit into it. She couldn’t take cookies. All the other girls in the Winx suite were so skinny and pretty. If Terra ate a bunch of cookies, people would say, “No wonder she looks like that.” But if Terra got a plate full of carrots, people would say, “Who does she think she’s kidding, when she looks like that?” It was hard to know what to do.

Wow, just, wow. Terra honey, they do you so dirty. Fat girls don't have to hate themselves, just a note for the creators. And Terra, baby, if people gonna talk shit either way, you eat whatever the f*ck you want.

(If this is not the set up for a personal growth arc in which Terra learns to not-hate-her-body and that she is worth loving regardless, and the creators really think plus sized folks just hate themselves as a constant state of being, I'mma be so unbelievably pissed off.)

She wasn’t going to hunt for her annoying brother.

Hold up, Terra has a brother?

FIRE

I still needed a breather. “Where can I go that’s the opposite of this? What’s outside?”

Cute Guy looked alarmed. “Past the Barrier? Depending on the rumors, bears or wolves or something much scarier.”

Did you not hear about the dead body? The very mutilated dead body? Sky, buddy? You're not going to bring up the very murdered and mutilated dead body in order to prevent the new girl from a foreign world (that you want to bang) from going into actual and legitimate danger? No?

I thought about Stella saying once she knew me, she’d find something to love about me.

It made me smile.

Bloom is gay for Stella count: 03

As if I’d conjured her by thinking about her, Stella’s voice rang out. “Hey, Sky. Can we talk?”

Stella was wearing her flawless new outfit and holding two drinks. Every twinkly light in the courtyard caught gold in her hair. She was looking right at Cute Guy, whose name was apparently Sky. From Sky’s expression, he knew Stella pretty well.

Yeah, Stella is Diaspro now

EARTH

Oh, for the love of … Riven was menace-flirting at some poor Specialist boy. This was Riven’s typical behavior when he felt off balance. Terra had once witnessed Riven looming at a fern in a way that suggested he either wanted to prune viciously or make out.

I... what???

“Really? Bullying the new kid? Be more obvious.”

Riven smirked, because of course he did. “Can’t bully the willing. Right?”

There was something loaded about Riven’s tone.

“I don’t know what that means!” the new boy said sharply.

The new boy was clearly feeling uncomfortable. Terra sympathized. The poor thing mustn’t take Riven’s terrible personality personally.

Well, someone belongs on a sex offenders registry. What the f*ck Terra, don't excuse this shit, it's not okay.

“But sometimes we’ve had a bad day, and a scrawny little twerp says the wrong thing at the wrong time,” Terra purred. “And all of a sudden, we’re not happy you’re talking to us. And we’re not nice. And most of all, we’re not harmless.”

“purred”, really? You gonna make it sound sensual? Let the girl Snarl! Damnit!

The vines were suffocating him so he couldn’t even talk. It was so nice and peaceful.

Terra smiled sweetly. “What’s that, Riv? I’m sure it’s clever. I just can’t hear you.”

His face turned red. He was about to pass out, Terra noted, still with that feeling of cheery distance. She shouldn’t actually let him faint. Riven would hate that.

Uhhh, so Terra might have psychopathic tendencies and maybe a dissociative disorder.

She shouldn’t actually let him faint. Riven would hate that.

Yeah, and his victim would have hated being assaulted, choke this douche.

Gods above I cannot stress how much I hate this Riven in comparison to OG Riven, and I was not OG Riven's biggest fan.

FIRE

THESE ARE THE SCENES FROM THE TRAILER!!!!!

Bloom continues to be a dumbass.

WATER

Aisha wasn’t used to Alfea, but she was used to being part of a team.

Well someone hasn't watched the show.

How her mother and Bloom had been fighting about her social life, and how Bloom would rather fix old lamps than cheerlead.

Who is this woman, where is Vanessa? And Bloom's art thing? The lamps sounds interesting, but I've never seen sign of it yet, was it cut for time?

“It was almost like the fire had a life of its own,” Bloom went on. “I don’t remember how long I let it burn. I just remember their screams.”

When Bloom finished the story, she was clearly fighting back tears. A subtle, weary tremor went through her frame, like a runner past her endurance. It seemed like Bloom had been fighting for a long time.

“My mom was covered in third-degree burns,” Bloom said. “Because of me. And if I hadn’t gone in there to stop it? To stop what I started?” She looked completely burned out.

“Every night after that, I sneaked out. I was so scared I’d hurt them again that I slept in this creepy-ass warehouse near home. Until Ms. Dowling found me and …”

Given the Tragic Backstory™ , I'm actually a little surprised Bloom didn't straight up run away from home completely, the fact that she went back at all...

“I’ve heard the story of my birth a million times.” Bloom’s tone brooked no argument. “Miracle baby. There was a problem with my heart in the womb, but the day after I was born, it was gone.”

Aisha went cold. “Oh God,” she breathed. “You’re a changeling.”

Because Bloom needs to be even more Special™, this is doing nothing to ruin my theory Bloom is a Burned One, by the way. (Actually starting to think Burned Ones are Fire Fairies whose powers pretty much consumed them or cursed that way or something along those lines.)

So where's the “real” Bloom Peters? Was the fetus even real, or just a simulacrum to have something to switch MC Bloom with?

MIND

Stella’s tone gave Musa pause. Plus, Musa could tell Aisha was really upset. Deliberately, she let her powers turn on, and faced Stella with her eyes glowing.

I'm sorry, I thought Musa couldn't control her powers and that’s why she “has to wear her headphones at all times to block out the noise of other peoples emotions”, now she can 'deliberately turn them on'? When did this happen? Did I miss some Implications?

“You’re a Mind Fairy,” Aisha observed, but there was no other judgment.

Aisha turned to Stella just as Terra came out of her and Musa’s room.

“A Mind Fairy?” Terra repeated sharply. “What’s your connection? Memories, thoughts—”

Okay, so now we learn there are different types of mind fairies. Explain to me why Musa is an Empath with Synthetic input? ('hearing' feelings, or experiencing them in a way that registers as audio.) Is this a “Song of their Hearts” reference, because I don't feel like that was done on purpose if it is.

Only Terra was moving toward Stella, and the way she moved wasn’t Terra’s usual going-nowhere happy bustle. The way Terra moved was that of a woman on the warpath.

Musa was almost impressed.

“She was talking to Sky, wasn’t she?” Terra demanded.

“And?” Stella demanded haughtily in return.

Terra pursued: “And I know what happened to the last person who talked to Sky. I was here last year, remember?”

A crack appeared in Stella’s veneer as she shot back, “You don’t know the full story!”

Didn’t seem like Terra cared. “Ricki was your best friend, then she talked to Sky. Now she’s not here anymore. Why is that again?”

Yeah, definitely getting the feeling DiaStella isn't being held back for a Pursuit of Pink Potions accident.

FIRE

There was even more rustling than usual in the detritus piled in the warehouse corners, but I didn’t care.

Why teleport there? Is there a Rule about where Portals can go? Or is is just Because Bloom felt this was the best place to pop in?

“You don’t have to be okay,” Mom assured me. “You’re only sixteen. Being that far away is a huge deal.”

Dad said gently, “I couldn’t have done it when I was your age. Be thankful you got your mom’s bravery.”

But now I knew that wasn’t true. I didn’t get anything from my mom. No wonder I was always such a disappointment to her.

Osmosis [noun] Def. 2. the process of gradual or unconscious assimilation of ideas, knowledge, etc..

You have some damn decent parents by the sounds of this scene, even if your mother is sure you're a likeable human being who will have friends one day, why are you this way?! For the Angst points?!

Only I could see Mom through the kitchen window. She didn’t seem disappointed. She looked so happy just to be talking to me. How could I ever tell her what I did to her? How could I ever tell her what I was?

Okay, so this line is bringing back the “they deserve to know what I am” line from the trailer, and now I'm torn between “The Winx deserve to know Bloom is a Burned One” and “my parents deserve to know I'm a Magical Fire Fairy (who burned down our house) and maybe a Changeling and thus not their biological daughter technically, maybe.”

My parents told me they loved me. I knew I loved them. And I knew I didn’t belong here. Maybe I never had.

May I advise you: remove your angst blanket, turn on a light and clean the room to remove the Dark and Gritty filters of your life.

I heard faint whispers. Sibilant. Strange.

Sibilant means hissing by the way. In case anyone was wondering.

The monster was on the grate above me.

I crawled as fast as I could. The ring was on the other side of the mesh, but there was a hole just big enough for my hand to get through. I reached for the ring, almost had it.

But in the crawl space in front of me, past the barrier, the shadow of the creature passed on top of the grate. The monster bashed frantically at the grate. Once. Twice. Until with a ringing metallic crash, the monster fell into the claustrophobic space with me.

I made one last grab for the ring, but the monster slammed its hand down on it.

Oh man, if only telekinesis was one of the most basic of Fairy abilities Bloom might have been able to do something, but no, it's basic bitch elements or nothing.

SPECIALIST

I really freaking hate this version of Sky, just, so much.

Terra has her suspicions about the Stella-Sky dynamic and she just, 'oh they's in love at first sigh nothing could possibly go wrong here' hand the number over? Really?

Diaspro!Stella confirmed?

#fate the winx saga #fate saga #winx #winx club #it's bitch o'clock #fate the winx saga book sneak peak reaction

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milas-imaginarium · 4 years

Text

The kindest thing

Language: English

Rate: G

Pairing: Lancelot Kingsley x MC

Note: @styletters there you go dear. I proofread this but it may contain mistakes, sorry in advance, this is long as hell.

Should I create a masterlist? I have not too much writings after all. I hope you like it.

Her eyes opened in slow motion as her lashes fluttered heavily, the bright sun blinded her for a second but shortly she was able to look where she was.

"Young Lady, are you okay?" she didn't recognize the pleasing voice but the tone of it soothed her, seconds after she realized her body was resting peacefully on a stretcher, no pain, no blood.

"Where I'm?" the girl uttered lighter than usual, her eyes finally focused on the person taking care of her; a doctor from the red army. He was not Kyle, he seemed older. A prick of worry made her head spin.

"I see, you don't remember anything" what was that man talking about? She tried to sit down but the red-haired doctor didn't allow her "I'll tell you everything but please stay still" what happened? Thousand of possibilities crossed her mind as her heart raced almost jumping out of her chest.

"Last night a soldier found you on the royal garden. You were unconscious but using a gown also a tiara so we assume you're from a royal family out of this country" the doctor kept quiet for a moment trying to find the words to clarify the situation avoiding a panic state "What we don't understand is why you're here. His majesty asked me to take good care of you."

Lancelot was the king, Lancelot Kingsley was her fiancé, why the impersonal behavior? "I don't know what happened to you young lady, but the red army is going to help you as much as we can" and then it hit her as a fiery wave "Oh, no..." her hands encased her face "Please let me see the king. I beg you."

Her legs were shaking as her stomach felt sick. It couldn't be and the only way to prove her suspicions was to see the king, however a bad feeling crept in her mind. The mere idea of something like this happening was ridiculous but not impossible...Oliveira guessed.

°°°

It was the celebration of the "Stargazing" festival in Cradle, as the two armies signed a truce the festival felt different. Happiness and peace were floating around the citizens and authorities, it was a dream to assist to a festival in her new home one week before the wedding, but something was off.

"I see, Oliveira" the Queen of spades spoke solemnly when the bride to be concluded the story. Last night she showed Lancelot a picture of himself in his childhood sleeping peacefully, the picture was inside a book in the old part of the library. Lancelot was taken aback and avoided the topic, his blue eyes full of sorrow "Lance was a lonely kid. He was born to fulfill his place as the future king. I shouldn't be telling you this, Lance sooner than you think will be ready to tell you by himself, after all, a man can't keep secrets from his wife"

"Having fun without me?" a deep voice made both, Queen and bride to be, turning around their heads only to find Lancelot looking sober. Oliveira smiled subtly, that's the face of a jealous King "Never. I see you around, Mrs. Kingsley."

As Sirius walked away smiling nonchalantly Lancelot spoke: "I admit it sounded good, isn't it?" the young lady nodded embracing herself to her lover's chest "I love you, Mrs. Kingsley. Let's go...we need to initiate the festival." with a kiss on his fiancee's forehead both went to the dancefloor, as the official royal couple they were in charge of the first dance. Everything was unreal except for the awkward sensation in her chest, she would never forget the baby boy in the photo living a life where loneliness was constant.

After dancing and eating all kind of typical Cradle's food people was ready to make their wishes. Every two years the festival was celebrated thanks to a meteor shower, as Cradle was a magical country people kept the tradition to ask favors to the stars, that's what the festival was about.

"I want to make Lancelot happy in all the stages of his life, I want to fill his heart with joy and his days with light"

°°°

"This must be a dream" Oliveira murmured while marching behind a guard, the King was ready to talk to her.

"After lunch, you'll attend the second part of your classes, Prince Lancelot" the woman stood silently, her desperate eyes looking for Lancelot and there he was, a six or seven years old boy, blue eyes, messy blond hair, the expression she knew so well. The floor melted under her feet, it was too real to be a dream.

"Are you okay, Lady?" the guard questioned giving her a confused gaze "The king is waiting for you" Lancelot and his instructors walked down the hall until his small figure disappeared, there was no need to see the king...But still, it was inevitable. Trying to compose herself and not to cry or be in commotion, Oliveira got into the King's office. Being in Cradle for more than a year taught her a lesson: in terms of magic, it was better to let it flow.

"Welcome young Lady. I'm the King of hearts" the man was blond but his eyes were not blue, perhaps Lancelot was more like his mother, though her father-in-law was a handsome mature man. Oliveira lost herself thinking about how Lancelot would look like in his late 40's "The royal doctor told me you don't remember more than your name, I'm deeply sorry for that, however, your tiara indicates you're a royal and you're going to be treated as one until you remember where you belong to."

"Of course it indicates royalty, it's your army's tiara and I'm your son's future wife." Oliveira thought at the same time her hand touched the fine piece of jewelry, they provided another dress for her to be comfortable but the tiara remained in her head "If you're a royal you must use it with pride" said the doctor when she denied to use it with the casual outfit.

The meeting with the King ceased too soon thanks to the Queen of hearts, for god's sake...that man was incredibly gorgeous. "Lady Oliveira, you'll have food and your room. What you do in your free time is up to you, I recommend to rest and try to remember something."

Despite the King's words were polite and almost kind she was not stupid. They considered Oliveira a threat but as they knew the young lady was a royal they had to treat her well enough to avoid a war with another country.

°°°

The next week consisted in her reading every book about magic in the library, nothing related to the "stargazing" festival or even magic to travel through time but something caught her eye "meaningful magic" or magic with purpose, it was the type of natural magic that had a specific purpose, sometimes it was as simple as a coincidence but in other cases, it was powerful and unpredictable, the point behind this kind of magic was to accomplish a mission or objective in the person's life.

Oliveira had to options: to believe in meaningful magic or to forget about her previous life, the answer was easy. What her purpose could be? another easy question. Her eyes darted the library's window, right in the garden a little kid was practicing fencing as disciplined and serious as a grown-up man "Make you happy is my mission, my Prince".

Oliveira decided to go out to take a sunbath and maybe have the chance to get close to the blond Prince that melted her heart; he was cute, pretty as a doll, small, soft, sweet "Do our kids would look like him?"

"Your kids with who, Lady Oliveira?" a feminine voice asked, oh shit. Oliveira tried to form a coherent excuse in her mind, then she remembered her wedding. Grinning she raised her hand and kept on playing the lady with no memory facing Lancelot's mother. Yes, Lancelot resembled her mother, even in that cold expression.

"Mrs. Kingsley" she bowed to show respect "I don't remember more than my name but this ring is an engagement one. I guess someone is waiting for me" it was not a lie, Lancelot was waiting for her, worried as hell but it was better not to think about that, her lover was strong "And I want to have beautiful and talented kids, just like Prince Lancelot, with that person." Lancelot's mother looked at her kid, no changes in her expression.

"I see you're quite fond of my son, I presumed you were plotting against the heir but now I know you're just mesmerized by the idea of having kids." the stunning woman dressed in fine materials spoke again "I'm too busy to pay attention to Lancelot but you have plenty of time, don't you?" with that she parted to an unknown place. The King's wife has duties but how cold-hearted you needed to be to ignore your kid?

That day Oliveira had dinner with Lancelot, it reminded her the first days in Cradle. The conversation didn't flow until she spoke about animals, a little nerd of tigers he was and see him with those big blue eyes shinning was everything "I know you're pretty busy but if you don't mind I would like to accompany you"

"Do as you please, Lady Oliveira" his soft voice echoed into the dining room. Deep down his cold expression, a marvelous heart remained untouched, some things never change.

°°°

Another week had passed and Oliveira was almost Lancelot's nanny. Sure, it was not easy but she handled adult Lancelot, nothing on earth could be more difficult than that. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner together, the royal chefs where not in charge of his foods anymore, she prepared fun and nutritive meals. Slowly the walls that kept Lancelot isolated from the world started crumbling; by the third day of the week she started reading stories for him before sleep, by the fifth day both were practicing fencing, Jonah's lessons were quite useful and by the seventh day, Lancelot smiled to her kindly.

A smile from the ice prince. It was better than gold, was she making him happy? She missed her old life, she missed her boyfriend, her friends but kid Lancelot...needed to be loved for the time the meaningful magic determined.

"Lady Oliveira, are you going to practice today?" approaching Lancelot was a hard task but his child version was more easy-going than his adult self for obvious reasons.

"Of course, this time I'll win." was it humiliating to lost in front of a kid? Yes, but that kid was incredibly good with the sword, so it was understandable. Nor the King or his wife went to the training field to look for their kid if she needed to think about there were days where Lancelot was left alone with his instructors and maids. If it was painful for her...how painful could it be for a little kid?

After a hard swordplay practice with the prince, she asked for a break while Lancelot glanced at her with that cheeky smile he displayed sometimes "You're mean, you now that? Let me win at least once"

"If I let you win once...how could you learn to be better?" and there he was, Lancelot being Lancelot. It was cute to see him saying serious things being just a baby, Oliveira's heart was under regular attack.

"Touché. I'm going to make your dinner, my dear Prince. Wait for me, okay?" she found herself enjoying cooking for Lancelot back in the past when she attempted to make him eat something. Food is necessary but also could be heart fulfilling. The little Prince fidgeted wanting to say something, his instructor remained quiet as always.

"What is it, Prince Lancelot? Do you want to request a special dish?" Lancelot eluded her sight, his cheeks blushing "Do you mind if I help, Lady Oliveira?"

And that was the beginning of a delightful routine for them, under the astounded eyes of the army staff members Prince Lancelot was smiling again, being the kid he was. His mother paid some visits sometimes and the King checked the prince's training but nothing more, they ignored his other activities and likings.

°°°

"Tomorrow I'll go to town, do you need something Prince Lancelot?" Oliveira said while preparing to read a story that night, Lancelot didn't need anything so shook his head. She has been living in the red army for three weeks, she kept on acting as the lady without memory but anybody seemed to be annoyed by that, it was quite the opposite; the King seemed pleased of how Oliveira treated the Prince.

Taking the big red book in her hands Oliveira noticed something opening her eyes in realization, it was the same book where she found Lancelot's picture. How silly of her not to notice that before. "Is there a problem, Lady Oliveira?"

"No, no prince." she smiled at him with her eyes full of tender love. The boy using red pajamas made himself comfortable.

°°°

Cradle was different from the past or the present or whatever, Oliveira got easily confused with all that time traveling thing, nevertheless, the city remained charming preserving the mystic air that made Cradle...well, Cradle. The real intention behind going to the city was to find a present for the Prince, it was weird not to see toys in a boy's room but it was Lancelot's room after all.

The maids were busy gathering the food for the next week so Oliveira walked by herself around Cradle looking for the perfect present, the options were almost infinite but nothing so special, not at least for her beloved little prince, anyway she was far to give up. Of course, love was so much more than a present but something was true, a simple gift can be like the magic that brought her back in the past: meaningful.

After a whole day in the civic center, she was ready, the gift was perfectly wrapped on a golden box with a huge ribbon on top. Lancelot and Oliveira were the main attraction in the red army headquarters, perhaps soulmates no matter their age, were bright when they were together.

For the bride-to-be, that day felt different, was it the anticipation for Lancelot's gift, or was it something more? however, she shook her head and after a wonderful homemade diner for two, both walked to Lancelot's room where the gift was awaiting over his bed. The expression of his round pretty face was memorable "I hope you like it"

Oliveira expected that adorable expression in his face after seeing the giant albino tiger plush, but never expected the kid's answer was a hug, his eyes were closed as his hair was messier than usual, Oliveira couldn't resist and kneeled before him hugging the little prince too "Did you like it?" Lancelot just nodded, he was warm, soft, and smelled like a baby if that made sense. Time stopped in that instant, nothing else matters than the feelings contained in that innocent hug "Prince Lancelot, you deserve happiness and infinite amounts of love. Never forget that."

Lancelot didn't say anything else before went to bed, his sleepy face showed a smile while his body embraced the fluff copy of Shine. It was love what Oliveira felt for that kid, she wanted to treasure the moment, she wanted to keep in her memory his voice, his smile, the expression when they were together practicing fencing or cooking.

"You don't know how much I love you, my little Prince. You're the kindest thing that ever happened to me."

That night Oliveira slept thinking about Lancelot, the prince, the king, the lonely man, the serious kid, the shattered person, her lover, her world, her reason to be strong, her reason to give it all to immerse him in eternal love.

°°°

"She's waking up! Call the King" her eyelids were heavy and she recognized the feeling back when she traveled to the past, was everything all right? "Oliveira, are you okay? Do you feel good?"

"K-Kyle?" There, looking at her with a worried expression was the royal doctor, her friend "What happened?" the dizziness in her head made everything blurry.

"You fainted after the dance with Lance. Have you been overworking yourself again?" Oliveira shooked her head slowly, she was in a strange house resting in a comfortable bed. Her dress the same she was using in the festival "I came back..." the girl murmured closing her eyes again just to see a perfect picture of Prince Lancelot.

"Was everything a dream?" She thought with a hefty sigh.

"Yes, that's it. You came back and Lance will be happy. The poor man almost faint with you..." Kyle said with a relaxed smile. When Oliveira fell unconscious Lancelot was startled, a citizen offered her house for Kyle to check on the girl, there was no explanation, perhaps Oliveira was just tired or her corset was too tight.

"Kyle..."

The young doctor stopped in his tracks when Lancelot spoke, the King's eyes full of expectation "Fine, fine...I'll leave you two alone. Don't overwhelm her, Lance." He just remained quiet and approached to his fiancee in a graceful motion, his slender cold fingers traced a line in Oliveira's jaw until reaching her soft hair, Lancelot took a seat close to her "How are you fee-" Oliveira interrupted him with a needy kiss "I'm okay my love, don't worry...Don't worry".

°°°

It was dreamlike, all eyes were on them waiting for the great King of hearts' vows. It seemed like he couldn't believe his eyes, Lancelot Kingsley getting married. Oliveira's knees were shaking slightly and her eyes were on the verge of dropping tears, both holding hands.

Never in his wildest dreams something like that happened, was it reality or mere fantasy? Oliveira smiled containing her tears of happiness, Lancelot cleared his voice and the words emerged almost like a love song.

"You're the kindest thing that ever happened to me. Now my lips have your taste in them, my skin has your caress tattoed and my heart beats at your voice's tempo.

You're like the rain on a drought, rain falling over buds making them flourish. Oliveira, I promise to make you immortal in the land of my memory if you love me until my last breath."

And that was all, Oliveira was crying gracefully during the rest of the ceremony, luckily for her, the makeup was waterproof. The exchange of rings took place and a round of applause filled the church.

"You can kiss your wife, King Lancelot." and he did so as if that kiss was his last.

"Cheers for the couple", "Congratulations King", "Take care of Alice", "Have a life full of happiness", "We're expecting a little prince soon", "Don't let him go, Oliveira".

People from both armies were happy, the day was full of light and love "I'll make you happy forever, my King." Oliveira said walking hand to hand going right to the wedding party.

°°°

In the silence of the night the couple, Mr. and Mrs. Kingsley made it to their shared bedroom. Lancelot left the room to prepare the bath, the plan was to relax taking a long romantic bath together and getting ready...For the wedding night.

Oliveira crossed the room after seeing the red big book over the nightstand "was it a dream?" she bit her lip opening the book to see the beautiful picture inside, Lancelot and his plush. Delicately she took the picture in her hand but then the picture fell off to the floor on its backside.

"You're the kindest thing that ever happened to him" Was written in perfect cursive handwriting. Oliveira took the photo in her hands wondering who would have written that.

"Is everything all right Oliveira?" asked Lancelot before running to hug his wife from the back "Oh, the picture. That's my father's handwriting" Lancelot paused "My childhood was not perfect, I hardly remember my mother or father being there for me...but this picture is special." He was opening to her, Sirius was right "I don't even remind her face or her name...but a Lady gave that plush to me, for the first time someone loved me, showed me a hint of what happiness is."

"Lance..." and more tears rolled down Oliveira's face before a gentle warm kiss took place "Don't cry my love," said the King of hearts "Come with me, I'll make you...cry for a different reason" using an insinuating tone Lancelot undressed his wife caressing her naked figure and downing her mouth with wet kisses. It was just the beginning of a life together.

#Lancelot Kingsley #king of hearts #Ikemen #Ikemen fanfic #Ikerev #ikemen revolution #Ikerev lancelot #Lancelot x MC

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tentoriwrites · 4 years

Text

Set Adrift: The Charbee Remix

For Charbee week day 4 for the song Back to Life by Hailee Steinfeld

I always played around with the idea of there being multiple factions of Cybertronians with specialized tasks/functions. I really latched on to the scientists/engineers because someone had to develop all that super advanced tech. But also they would have so much drama because both sides would want them. I found a great way to write in 2 of the main characters but never had a great way to bring in the third as she was completely a non-combatant. ENTER CHARBEE!

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

Bumblebee’s optics went wide as he thought back on the time he stuck his finger in the outlet at Charlie’s house. He looked away embarrassed by the stupidity of the action. Little did he know the ramifications of such a simple act would be so widespread and… ongoing…

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

Prologue:

The universe is full of innumerable stars. Rotating around those stars are even more planets. What makes this one so special? At first I didn’t understand, but then I finally went there. It was full of organic life and energy. I knew the moment I landed it would be perfect for the experiment. So, I released them: enough nanobots to make thousands of Energon batteries. Enough to power a Cybertronian colony for far more cycles than would ever be necessary. This whole system was a proof of concept. No matter where we Cybertronians went, we would always have a source of Energon.

As soon as the nanobots were released on this pale blue dot the results were immediate. I was extremely optimistic. I left the experiments to run as I retreated to the observation bunker established on a moon in the far reaches of the system. I went into stasis to conserve energy and woke up periodically to check on the experiments and receive reports from home.

As you might imagine I missed a lot existing like this. But I knew about the war and that it was escalating at a frantic pace. The war and my experiment seemed to be poles that could not coexist. The better my experiment went, the worst things seemed to go at home. The transmissions kept coming until one day they spotted altogether. I denied it for as long as I could, but I understood what that meant. The Prime Constructors was gone and the only reason for that was denying the Decepticons. I took precautions against those who would try to use my experiments for their own ill deeds. In my processors I said I was neutral, like all Constructors, but in my Spark I hoped the Autobots would win. that hope to hold on to, I went to sleep for the last time.

A bot tall and slender in frame but devoid of all the color floated gently up and down in a cryo-stasis chamber. The frost on their silvered metal panels tinkled as it melted away. It was time for the annual check on their experiment. They had created a countless number of nearly imperceptible nanobots and flooded all the planets of this solar system with them. It was a first of its kind experiment for the Cybertronians. Each bot collected energy from any and all available sources and converted it to Energon. Once the bot was fully charged, it floated towards the collection point on the planet and deposited it. Once the batteries were full, they could be collected and transported back to Cybertron.

The Cybertronian stretched out their arms over their head before floating over to the console on the far side of the room. Tiny boosters on the tips of their transparent wings gave them the propulsion they needed to move in the zero-gravity space. Once they were seated, they slid their hand against a flat space marked off by a frame on the console. It lit up with a gentle yellow glow a moment after they touched it.

“Constructor designation.” A synthesized voice filled the darkened room.

“C-377.” A less synthesized female voice answered.

“Project Identification number.”

“1284092186.”

“Hello, C-377. I hope you slept well.”

“I did, thank you.” She looked up at the screens as they buzzed to life.

“I have compiled the latest data on all 10 planets in this system.”

“I see them on the screens now. The numbers for some planets are a little disappointing, I must say. However, planet 3 has been an extremely lucrative source of energy.” She put her free hand to her chin a moment. “There has been a very large spike in the last 100 years. But then it drops off steeply.”

“Yes.”

The Cybertronian started to speak again but the computer cut her off.

“There was a huge spike in Energon detected. The spike caused the nanobots in the area to realign with the Cybertronian responsible for the spike and become unresponsive to outside communications. This caused a cascade effect until all the nanobots on the planet had become realigned.”

The Cybertronian’s purple glowing optics went huge. “W… wh… what… faction?” She was shaking so violently her hand almost pulled free from the console.

“The surge was caused by an Autobot designated B-127.”

The Cybertronian visibly eased, sinking into her seat at the news.

“The Decepticons can never have this technology… They’ll just use it to destroy ev…” Her chilled declaration was cut short by an alarm blaring. The security system was alerting her to a breach. “Activate emergency protocol alpha.”

“Understood. Preparing full transfer to remote station Beta.” The small, underground base started whirring with life.

The Cybertronian’s hand was released from the console as the computer listed each step in the protocol being fulfilled in the background. “Launch the backup and my escape pod to Earth then full wipe.”

“Understood. Preparing to launch decoys. Randomizing decoy coordinates. Power and memory transfer to ARC initiated.”

“Time to breach?”

“Irrelevant. Please proceed to escape pod.”

“But… Yes… Understood…” She couldn’t argue with the computer as power was already being diverted to a black monolith. The lights dimmed and the alarm turned off. The bot drifted into a random escape pod. The black monolith joined her in a different, random pod.

“Transfer complete. Launch sequence activated. Final shut down commencing. Creator protect you.”

The tube shook violently as it hurtled towards space. Moments before cresting the top of the tube, the screen in the escape pod started blinking errors. A camera on the outside of the pod showed fire surrounding it. Something likely set off the self-destruct trying to disarm it. While she was happy no one could get anything out of the base, she hoped against the odds the pod survived the trip to the third planet. Much to her dismay, the alarm blared on…

The sky burned as a Cybertronian pod streaked across the blue expanse over the planet Earth. Pieces broke off and burned away in the atmosphere causing a showy display of friction's power. It came to rest in a dry field in the middle of nowhere at the base of a tree. The scorched dirt pit left in the wake of the landing alien smoldered and it wouldn't be long before humans found the site. With great effort the figure rolled over and pushed themselves to their feet. The journey had taken far longer than they had thought but soon it would all be over. The mission was the only thing that mattered now.

“Halt!” A voice called with a musical quality and the figure turned around slowly.

“Auto...bot... Thank goodness...” The clearly female alien replied weakly just before falling to her knees. Any scans indicated that she had been severely damaged from the entry. She was dying before his very eyes! He immediately disarmed and moved to her side. “I have a very important message to deliver to you Autobot. I am one of the last of the Constructors and charged with an experiment put into motion on this planet... No time...” She explained as quickly as she could with her dying body.

Bumblebee dropped her and backed away. A look of disdain colored his normally genial features.

She chose to ignore the familiar coldness her faction afforded her and pressed on. “After I die the information must be pulled from me. They are on their way... Decepticons... Not sure... how much... they got out of lab...” Her optics flickered so dim light could barely be seen within them as Optimus and the others arrived.

“Bumblebee! Report!” Optimus barked as he transformed and ran up to his ally. “A neutral?” He gasped in a voice stricken with an ill feeling as he kneeled down next to the ailing creature. “A Constructor?” She nodded slowly before falling to the dirt completely.

“A Prime...? How fortunate...” A smile was clearly written on her face as her life faded away.

“Out of the way!” Ratchet grumbled as he gingerly moved between Optimus and the slain. “Her injuries are grave. I haven't seen anything in this bad of shape in awhile...” He looked her over briefly before shooting her three times with his special regeneration laser. She jumped and twitched and he quickly set to work attaching a thick cable to a port in her back. “She needs an energy transfusion... What's this?” He wondered spotting a foreign black cube deep in her back. “It's a retrofitted piece connected on a molecular level with nanomachines... It appears to be some sort of energy collection or converter... But it's been disabled.” He awkwardly reached a finger into her back and poked the unharmed box.

Suddenly, her wings spread out and became covered in a transparent film. After a few moments she gasped and her eyes shot open. “The energy converter worked!” She half shouted as she twitched back to life.

The Autobots in attendance looked at her dumbstruck.

“I need to find the monolith…” No sooner did the words leave her mouth she passed out again.

“She's not very stable at the moment... We'll have to be careful...” Ratchet explained checking her status. “Right now, that converter is the only thing keeping her functional.” With that being said he got to his feet and started hauling her away unceremoniously over one shoulder.

“All right you heard Ratchet! We have to get her back to the base!” Optimus ordered as he started to transform into a semi-truck. “I’ll carry her in the back.”

A flurry of whirring radio dials punctuated Bumblebee’s reaction as he searched for songs to speak with. “Something… you need to know… easier… if… she's… dead...” Bumblebee looked up at Optimus with his displeasure clear on his face. “Shouldn’t… we… let it be?”

“No information could be worth her life... She's been through much to get here and I'm certain once she's had time to recover, she can tell us everything we might need to know.” Optimus replied as the hum of a plane grew closer. “Autobots! Roll out!” It was clear Optimus was ignoring the callousness of the comment.

“I… will… guard… her…”

As they rolled back to the Autobot base on Earth, the being stirred weakly. “You.” There was a long pause before the Constructor went on in a quiet voice. “You are the one who started all this.”

Bumblebee tried to ignore her, but her persistent staring finally prompted a response. He cocked his head to the side. “Misunderstanding” by Phil Collins started playing.

“You have lost your voice?” She looked up at the open roof wistfully. “It must have been an accident then.” She took a deep breath. “You created an Energon surge that interfered with an experiment I was conducting on this planet. It caused the nanobots I brought here to align with your energy so they no longer respond to me.”

“That means we must protect you at all costs until the nanobots can all be removed from the planet.”

“You should rest now. You can explain yourself later when we can all hear it. But I would prepare yourself now, Constructor. Not all Autobots have a favorable opinion of your kind.” Optimus commented stoically.

“I… I can understand that sentiment.” With that she closed her eyes and went into stasis again.

After returning to the base, the newest Cybertronian was offloaded for repairs. Optimus and Bumblebee waited patiently nearby as they discussed their next move.

“What do you think, Bumblebee? Is she someone we should trust?” Optimus turned to the yellow bot.

“Danger Zone” started blaring loud enough to wake the dead.

“I understand your feelings on Constructors. However, they only did what they felt was best for Cybertron. Is that really any different than what we did?” Optimus tried to reason with Bumblebee.

Bumblebee shook his head wildly. “So, what difference does it make? It makes none.” A line by The Smiths accompanied the action.

Optimus sighed heavily. He started to say something but was cut off by Ratchet.

“Well I can safely say this is my best work...” Ratchet sounded quite full of himself as he came out with the Constructor in tow. He had replaced her missing plates with smooth steel. “She explained that box to me as well so we'll have to move her while she recovers. She needs a place with more light.” He added cracking his hands as he stopped where Optimus and Bumblebee had acquainted themselves.

“What is it?” Optimus asked looking over to him.

“It's a miniature version of an experimental system the Constructors implemented here on Earth in a closed circuit.” Ratchet explained with a smile. “It was developed on the off chance the experiment failed. She brought many unused copies with her!”

“So that's the black box we picked up not far from her crash site.” Optimus added thoughtfully.

“YOU FOUND THE MONOLITH?!” The Constructor nearly collapsed in her relief. “Th… that monolith is very important to me.”

Bumblebee’s optics narrowed sharply and “Danger Zone” started blaring again.

“Bumblebee…” Optimus chided him gently and the yellow bot huffed.

The Constructor looked a bit hurt but went on. “I am Constructor C-377. I specialize in nanobots. I developed nanobots that absorb energy in all its forms and delivers it to batteries. The batteries were to be sent back to Cybertron…”

“Cybertron… has fallen.” Arcee answered solemnly offering her comrade a comforting pat on the shoulder.

“Oh…” All of the Constructor’s excited energy evaporated like fog in the sun. “I… see…” Sparks lit up as her fingers dug into her hand. “Well then… I guess… a new end goal for the experiment is necessary.” She nodded solemnly as she walked over to the monolith. She placed her hand on the surface and it immediately lit up with a gentle purple light.

“Should this experiment yield the desired results then we will be able to build a new home planet for our race.” Ratchet began with his smile beaming wider with each word. “It is capable of converting solar energy into Energon!” The news completely shocked everyone in the gathering.

“This is great news!” Arcee cheered in uncontained happiness.

“It’s not that easy.” The Constructor injected quickly. “The nanobots are designed to seamlessly integrate into whatever they are gathering energy from. So, they can become anything. If you cannot see why that might be a problem then you had better reconsider your intelligence level.

“We should give you a code name.” Wheeljack finally interjected.

“Familiarity with me is not advisable. I will only be on this planet long enough to remove the nanobots and any threat they may cause. My association with this planet will only serve to endanger it further.”

“She is a true Constructor...” Ironhide shook his head bitterly. “I've never met one but I would bet they're all just like this. Loners who don’t think they need anyone and don’t care about anyone.”

The Constructor deflated a fraction, but it was still enough to be noticeable. “I will need an energy sample from B-127 so I can start reprogramming the nanobots. Please place your hand on the monolith.”

“No sugar tonight.” Blared through Bumblebee’s radio.

"I don't think you understand what's at stake here." She started with hurt in her voice. "The nanobots can be reprogrammed to do anything... become anything. Power supplies, weapons, defenses..." The meekness in her voice faded as she spoke, replaced the a genuine passion. "If the Decepticons get a hold of them, they would be able to destroy anyone who opposes them!"

"Why would you put such a dangerous experiment into action at a time like this?" Ironhide voiced his suspicions openly.

A perfectly logical question she gave an honest answer to. "The experiment was started before the war." She started to deflate once again. "Had I known it would come to this... I... never would have..."

Just before her voice faded into nothing the monolith whirred loudly before disappearing completely. Her optics went huge and she started shaking. The plates of her body clinked gently, but audibly. "A Decepticon is here..."

An uproar immediately erupted from the Autobots. Some went on the defensive, seeking out the enemy. Others went on the offensive against the Constructor.

"I knew she couldn't be trusted!"

"Constructors only care about their experiments and creations!"

"She probably is a Decepticon herself!"

"She must have led them here!"

"I'm not a Decepticon!" Though she was quick and vocal in asserting this, she deflated quickly again. "But I may have led them here without meaning to." She shrank away from everyone, clutching her arms around herself.

"Enough!" Optimus's resonant voice silenced all others. He placed a firm hand on the Constructor's shoulder. "We will judge her guilt based on evidence after we eliminate the Decepticon threat."

The familiar whir of a plasma gun charging and firing in the distance ended any further discussion. Optimus did a quick head count and looked confused.

"The threat has been eliminated." The Constructor whispered looking over in the direction the sound came from.

"How can you be so certain?"

"My monolith is back." She pointed toward the source of the shot. Sure enough, one could see a peek of the monolith floating lazily in the air. Closer investigation revealed a small, smoking crater with the remains of a small Decepticon spy at the bottom. Her whole countenance grew grim as the monolith wafted to her side. "I warned you the nanobots are dangerous. Now the Decepticons likely know B-127 controls them."

“Your monolith is made of nanobots then?”

“Yes.” She answered quietly. “But they only respond to me. They cannot be overridden like the ones on this planet.” She turned to look at Bumblebee resolutely. “The Decepticons will stop at nothing to gain every advantage they can. If you will not help me save the experiment here. Please help me shut it down. The nanobots can be ordered to permanently fuse. Order them to fuse into batteries and all of you will have a viable source of Energon for the foreseeable future. Once it’s done, I’ll leave and never come back.”

Once again, Bumblebee pulled away.

“They will stop at nothing. The place where your Energon surged was a residential area. They will start there first.”

Bumblebee’s face instantly snapped back to hers.

“They will take hostages and once they do, those hostages will die. It doesn’t matter if you agree to help the Decepticons or not.”

Bumblebee looked visibly distressed now. His optics swiveled around for a moment before he shoved past the Constructor and turned into a bright yellow car with black stripes. As he did, the monolith disappeared again.

“We have to protect him at all costs!” The Constructor yelled and she took off after him on foot. A moment later she spotted an old, beat up truck from the 40s roll by. She quickly scanned it and used it as her cover. Following a faintly iridescent line of nanobots, she was able to follow Bumblebee even if she could in no way keep up with his reckless driving. Eventually she pulled in at a house at the end of a cul de sac. Bumblebee was honking his horn trying to get the attention of someone in the house.

“I wondered who could possibly be honking so much!” An older women excitedly declared as she rush out of the house. “Charlie’s going to be so excited to see you when she gets back, Bumblebee.”

Bumblebee struggled through finding the right song lyrics to convey the urgency of the situation. Seeing him struggle so, the Constructor spoke instead.

“Where did she go and when will she return?”

“Oh? A girl…” The older woman gave Bumblebee a knowing smile. “I’m so glad you found someone special, Bee~~~ I was just telling Charlie it would be nice if you found you a nice lady bot and settled down. She didn’t seem to like that for some reason.”

“It’s not that kind of arrangement. I am in need of his assistance.” The Constructor answered simply. “Where did Charlie go and when will she return?”

“She went to the store for me and should be back anytime now. Is… Is something the matter?” The woman was clearly worried now.

“No. I simply wanted a name. Bumblebee said Charlie gave him his name. She might select one for me as well.” It was pure fabrication to minimize collateral damage.

“Awe… That’s so sweet! I’m sure Charlie would be so happy to meet you and give you a name!” The older woman bought the explanation wholesale as a smile crept across her face that spoke to how adorable she thought the situation was. “There she is now!” She flailed her arms in a wave.

The pair of Cybertronians backed around to see a red car coming down the street. An arm reached out and started waving wildly. Suddenly, a shimmer on the air caused the view to be distorted.

“That vehicle…” The Constructor whispered.

The vehicle came to an abrupt stop causing Charlie to slam into the steering wheel. Bumblebee revved his engine in a hostile display. It was clear he already knew what the Constructor was about to say.

“That vehicle is a Decepticon.”

Bumblebee’s engine revved loudly again.

“B-127 if you would like this human returned unharmed you will come to the coordinates indicated on this tracker.” A map shot out of the glove box and fluttered to the ground, almost comically slow, in front of the Decepticon. With Charlie still inside, they turned into a plane and flew off.

Bumblebee shifted out of car form and pointed his plasma gun at the retreating plane. He quickly thought better of it since Charlie could get hurt if the Decepticon crashed or jettisoned her.

“We should regroup with the Autobots and plan our next move. There… there has to be a way to get her back safely without putting you or the planet in danger.”

The Constructor tugged on his arm but Bumblebee pulled himself free once again. Punctuating his disdain with a glare, visor still down. The radio blared static and it got the point across aptly.

“I lost everything and everyone I cared about.” She said quietly as she clenched her fists, metal scraping on metal showing just how tight her grip was. “I don’t like fighting, or war, or the Decepticons. If we’re being perfectly honest, I don’t really like any of you Autobots either because YOU’RE the ones who were doing all the fighting!” Her feet ground into the pavement causing it to crack and chip.

There was a long silence as Bumblebee stared at her taken aback when confronted with the fact there isn’t just one side in a war.

“But…” She started more calmly now. “Even though you couldn’t save all the innocent lives lost in this war…” She looked up at Bumblebee with determination. “You aren’t the ones who deliberately put them in danger to begin with. I could stop you from going. I could imprison you with my nanobots because you would be doing the EXACT same thing as the Decepticons. Deliberately putting all the innocent lives on this planet in danger for that one human. Are you prepared to bare the burden of responsibility if we fail? You and you alone?” She gave him a challenging poke to the chest.

His optics darted back and forth rapidly as he tried to process his response.

“Why do you fight, B-1… Excuse me…” She shook her head. “Why do you fight, Bumblebee?”

That single question seemed to harden his resolve. His optics focused on the Constructor before he nodded his head, radio whirred through stations until it spelled out his reason. It didn’t blare loud for all the world to hear. It was quiet and sincere.

“In that case,” She smiled slightly. “I’m not asking you to trust me, but let me help you.”

Bumblebee looked down at her outstretched hand and hesitated.

The Constructor smiled ruefully. “It is asking a lot, I suppose. Let’s go before it’s too late.” She glanced off where the Decepticon had gone briefly. “Please lead the way.”

Bumblebee shifted back into car mode and peeled away. Unlike the last time, he made sure the Constructor could nominally keep up with him. Traffic gradually gave away to open roads as they sped down a nearly abandoned access. After turning down a rough access road, the forest opened up to an abandoned mine. Standing cockily at the edge of the pit mine was the Decepticon. They bent over and picked up Charlie from where she sat bound in chains on the ground. They rattled ominously as the Decepticon held her in the air by the waist. Bumblebee’s radio whirred wildly as he skid to a stop by changing into his bot form. He was clearly worried for Charlie.

“We have come as you requested. Please release the human as agreed.”

“The agreement was for B-127 to cooperate with us. I have no use for you.” The Decepticon sneered as a needle shot up from the end of a slender digit. “Let’s make this interesting…” He stabbed the needle into Charlie’s neck.

Charlie let out a momentary scream of pain before gritting her teeth. “Don’t, Bee. Don’t help them.”

The Decepticon snickered before yanking the needle out. “Those are your Nanobots, C-377. The imperfect ones you left behind, but they’ll still drain this girl of all her energy.”

Bumblebee immediate bristled at this comment. His visor locked into place and his plasma gun primed.

“Ah… none of that. Shoot me and you won’t be able to stop the nanobots.” The Decepticon wagged a mocking finger at Bumblebee with a wicked grin.

Bumblebee lowered his gun rather begrudgingly.

“You are not in this alone.” The Constructor whispered encouragingly. “I will be very convincing.”

“So, what’s the verdict?”

Bumblebee sighed deeply and started walking forward with his hands up.

“B-127…” A sharp voice from behind him made him stop. “Would you really sacrifice all other life on this planet for one?”

Bumblebee spared her a sharp glance over his shoulder. It was then he noticed the shimmer and remembered what happened the last time her monolith disappeared. He gave her an understanding nod before focusing on Charlie again.

“Then you leave me no choice.”

Bumblebee didn’t look back again. One slow step in front of the other he marched towards the Decepticon. With his sole focus on Charlie, he missed the unsettling way they behaved. The Decepticon was very excited every time Bumblebee took a step forward. They did a happy little jig, jostling Charlie in the process.

The Constructor watched careful from behind until she noticed something. She soon noticed the Decepticon was only looking at the ground. That had to be important…

“Bumblebee! Do not take another step forward!” Using his real name signaled to him to stop. “It’s a trap! There’s something in the ground!”

Bumblebee looked around but didn’t see anything immediately in his path. He picked up his foot and set it down in a slightly different place. That slight movement was all it took to spring the trap. A burst of electricity rippled through his body overloading his circuits and sending a huge Energon burst out.

“BEE!” Charlie screamed desperately as she watched her friend fall to his knees. She kicked and screamed but couldn’t free herself.

“Perhaps you should start concerning yourself with your own situation. Your value as a hostage has been spent after all.” The Decepticon jeered as they eyed Charlie with a wicked jeer. Without a second thought, they tossed her into the pit.

Bumblebee tried to call out to her but his radio just bogged down and flickered like a car trying to start when there isn’t enough power. The last thing he saw before blacking out was Charlie disappearing over the edge.

The words of the Constructor echoed in his mind. “You are not in this alone.”

“I trusted you… That was a mistake.” The warnings flashing on his screens suddenly stopped. His optics snapped open. Before his very eyes, Charlie was levitating in the air, bounds removed. A faint shimmer covered her whole body and he realized she was covered in nanobots. He looked around wildly and saw the Constructor kiting the Decepticon around as they fired at her. She was fast, but extremely clumsy in her movements. He knew it was only a matter of time before she got hit.

He staggered to his feet, sensors still not fully recovered, and stumbled towards Charlie. After just a few steps, an electric jolt shot up around him. He prepared for another frying, but the shock never came. Instead, the electricity seemed to be diverting around him then disappearing completely.

“The nanobots can take any kind of energy and turn it into Energon.” The audio played back in his head. His gaze darted to the Constructor quickly. The horrible realization settled in: If her nanobots were helping him and Charlie, she was truly defenseless.

“I’m fine, Bee. I’m fine.” She smiled brightly for him as she looked up into his optics for a moment that seemed like an eternity. The trance seemed to break for both of them at the same time and they both collapsed into a hug. “I missed you so much…”

Bumblebee nuzzled her cheek as if to say he missed her too. He finally pulled away when a nearby explosion caught his attention.

“You should help her. I’ll just go hide over there.”

Bumblebee nodded stoically as his visor clicked into place. He turned towards where the Decepticon had the Constructor pinned to the ground. He fired his plasma gun to break them apart before charging forward.

Charlie watched for a moment before heading towards the cover of the trees. It quickly became apparent something was wrong as she had to push harder and harder just to move. All her limbs felt sluggish and heavy. The tiredness quickly started spreading to her mind as an overwhelming urge to sleep took her. The last thing she saw before darkness consumed her was the tree line and a fistful of leaves in her hand.

“Now how did you get free?” The Decepticon pondered as they squared off with Bumblebee. “Was it my vacillating former colleague?” They glanced down at the Constructor as she tried to drag herself away. “You are just full of tricks, aren’t you? But I think you’ve used them all up now!” They gave her a swift kick that sent her rolling towards Bumblebee.

“I will… take care of Charlie.” She pulled herself up and started retreating towards the fallen human.

With no other distractions to come between them, Bumblebee focused on the Decepticon. “You have a codename now too. My codename is Doppel. I have a twin named Ganger.” The Decepticon went on to explain they used to be Constructors too but now they work for the Decepticons.

After a few moments listening to Doppel’s prattling Bumblebee started firing.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you manners?!”

If ever Bumblebee wished he had his voice back it was now. Unable to deliver any sort of retort, he just kept firing. Unlike the other Constructor, Doppel clearly had some combat experience. Only some. This was not going to be as easy as he hoped, but still doable.

“Miss Charlie. Please wake up.” C-377 gently lifted Charlie into her arms.

“Just 5 more minutes…” Charlie muttered absently as she swatted at the air.

“Well she still has basic functions…” A quick scan revealed a glimmer of hope. “These nanobots are very old and extremely inefficient. It seems her body’s energy generation is outpacing their ability to absorb it as long as she is in maintenance mode.” The Constructor gave Charlie a troubled look as she tried to shut down the nanobots. “Not them too…” Her gaze shot up to Bumblebee.

“STOP! Don’t destroy him!”

Bumblebee looked back at C-377 incredulously.

“We need him to shut down the nanobots inside Charlie!” She scooped Charlie up and started walking toward the fighting pair. “You have control of my nanobots. Order them to isolate a sample of his Energon.”

“Like I would ever let that happen…” Doppel jeered from his place under one of Bumblebee’s feet.

Suddenly, Charlie let out a bloodcurdling scream.

“He overloaded the bots. We have to hurry or they’ll drain her dry then blow up!” She was frantic now as red warnings flooded her screens.

Blood red optics glared down at Doppel as Bumblebee grabbed his neck with a crushing grip. A long, thin needle grew out of his knuckle. He jabbed it into Doppel’s chest with far more force than was needed. The needle took on a red hue quickly as it filled with Energon.

“It’s not going to be enough…” Doppel jeered as he fell back to his knees. Those were the last words he ever said.

“Bumblebee! Hurry! I have to use that sample to hack the nanobots before they explode!”

Bumblebee turn and saw Charlie encased in the monolith. The monolith was taking on a red glow. C-377‘s expression became increasingly grim. “I… not enough time. Preservation protocol Alpha!” An explosive flash of light momentarily blinded them both.

“The nanobots created a pocket dimension where time moves at a fraction of what it does here.” C-377 explained as Bumblebee’s optics locked on the glowing sphere before him. “As you might imagine, that requires a large volume of energy. I need your help keeping it stable for a few more moments while I finish disabling the nanobots.” To emphasize this point, her energy collection wings were spread open wide and Energon coursed down her arms into the sphere.

Bumblebee tentatively reached out to sphere and solid plates former beneath his hands. Even before his hands touched the plates he could feel his energy to be pulled to his hands. He hesitated for a moment before pressing his hands to the plates. Instantly, the Energon started to drain from him in massive waves. His sensors indicated an eminent shut down in a matter of moments but he focused on Charlie. Suddenly, she was no longer obscured by the veil of energy and nanobots.

“Charlie?” He started at hearing his own voice.

“Who’s there?” Charlie spun around quickly. “BEE!” She ran up to him happily.

He scooped her up in an embrace. “I’m glad you’re all right.”

“Same, buddy. But… where are we and what’s going on?” She looked around confused by their surroundings.

“You were infected with Nanobots that were draining your energy and then were going to explode. That other Cybertronian put you in a pocket dimension while she shut them down.”

“Oh. No big deal then.” She seemed to take that news in stride. “And the Decepticon?”

“Destroyed.”

“So… I guess we just have to wait for her to finish and we’ll get out of here.” She sat down and patted the place besides her.

“Probably.” Bumblebee answered opting to settle in behind her and hug her midsection.

“Probably? You mean you don’t know?” Charlie looked a bit alarmed as she gripped Bumblebee’s hand.

“I’ve never worked with her before. In fact, we just met earlier today. I’m still not entirely convinced I can trust her.”

“She saved my life.” Charlie said simply. “She said every life is precious.”

“You trust her then?”

“I have no reason not to.”

“Then… I guess I can trust her too.” Though he said this begrudgingly still.

“How long have you been able to talk, by the way?” Charlie spun around to look him in the eyes again.

“How long have I been in here with you?”

“Does that mean you might not be able to talk once you get out of here?”

“Yeah.” Seeing the disappointment she was trying to hide made him regretful. “But I’ll always have the voice you gave me.” He tapped the radio gently.

“That’s true.” She seemed content with this as she settled her back against the plates of his chest again. “I don’t suppose you can pick up any stations in a pocket dimension, can you?”

“Probably not.” He sounded amused as he answered. Still, he gave the dial a spin anyways.

“B-127!” Familiar voices flooded the space. “I mean Bumblebee! Listen you have to let go! Your Spark is being absorbed!”

“That sounds bad.” Charlie mirrored the Constructor’s worry.

“It is. Our Spark is the thing that gives us life and makes us who we are.” He paused to look around. “I don’t know how to go back.”

Charlie immediately jumped to her feet and put her hands on his shoulders. “Bee! You… you have to find a way to go back! Your soul… Your soul is here and if you can’t get back your body you’ll be gone forever!” Tears streamed freely down her cheeks.

Charlie doesn’t cry for just anyone… She only cries for the people she really cares about…

“Don’t worry!” He wiped the tears from her cheeks with gentle thumbs.

“What did you do to C-377?!”

“I’m not going to leave you.” He took her hands from his shoulders and wrapped her in a warm embrace.

“I didn’t do anything!”

“No matter what…” He nuzzled her head to his chest.

“Who else could have done this?!”

“I’ll always be with you.” A barely audible whisper.

“I think… he did this himself.”

“Because I…”

The arguing voice over the radio faded to static all at once. A blinding flash ripped through the space and then, nothing. It took a long time for Charlie to resister the cold feeling of metal on her limbs. But once she did, her whole body went into hyper-drive. Her eyes snapped open and were greeted with the Autobots weapons drawn and pointed at her in the distance. In foreground was the blunt end of some very sharp looking spikes floating in the air. She spun around and saw the very haggard looking Constructor looking back at her with barely glowing eyes.

“Wow! What happened to you? Oh yeah a fight! If we go back to my garage I could fix you!” It was all one word spoken at an almost incomprehensible speed.

“Miss Charlie.”

“We could give you an awesome paint job too! OH! What kind of vehicle do you turn into?! I bet it’s some snazzy sports car!”

“MISS CHARLIE!” C-377 grabbed her by the arms carefully. “I need to focus right now, hard as that may be.” Her voice was failing and the glow in her eyes flickered. “Everything Bumblebee ever was, is, or will be is inside of you right now.” The Constructors cold hands slid down Charlie’s arms making the human focus on herself for the first time. Her whole body was glowing blue.

“His Spark?”

“Yes. You are the only one who can bring him back now.” She gestured to Bumblebee’s lifeless body beside them.

“You big idiot.” Charlie whispered in exasperation as she crawled up next to his head. “When you said you weren’t going to leave me, did you really think I’d be happy with this?” She rested her hands on his faceplates and put her forehead to his. “If you’re not here, what’s the point?” Her whole body started to glow brighter. The glow travelled up her body and grew brightest where she touched Bumblebee. Once all the glow had faded, there was a long moment of uncertainty.

Radio static broke the silence and Bumblebee’s optics slowly lit up. A collective sigh of relief filled the air, none louder than the Constructor’s. She slumped over on her side and rolled short distance away as the spikes her nanobots created melted away to nothing. As the revelry around her reached a fever pitch she tried to summon up the strength to form her monolith again. The transparent wings on her back flickered dimly but could not generate any power.

“Overheated…” She muttered bitterly. She let out a tired sigh. “Bumblebee.” She called out to him but he couldn’t hear over the celebration. “Bumblebee.” A bit louder this time. “BUMBLEBEE!” She yelled as loud as she could finally garnering the attention of the others. The looks were not entirely kind but she endured it anyways.

“I cannot access my monolith at this time. You are the only one who can shut down the experiment on this planet.” She reached up weakly and offered him a small stick made out of nanobots. “This has all the instructions you need to order the nanobots to permanently fuse into Energon batteries. I suggest having them coalesce in a secure location. It will take quite some time for all of them to fuse.”

Bumblebee was quick to shake his head.

“You still don’t trust me. I cannot blame you on this.” She replied defeated.

He quickly shook his head. The radio spun through countless stations and static but nothing of use for what he wanted to say came up. Now it was his turn to sigh. Then his head quirked up and he looked a bit disturbed.

“Please speak your mind now.” C-377 said wearily.

“Hello?” Bumblebee spoke tentatively. Everyone looked shocked. “You… should be the one to finish it. See this through to the end. That is… one of the principles of the Autobots.”

“You have shown yourself an ally. I hope in time we can come to some kind of better understanding.” Optimus spoke clearly and definitively.

“With all due respect, Master Prime, I have no interest in siding with the Autobots or the Decepticons. I would like to try to remain neutral. However, it is clear the Decepticons and I do not share one important core value.”

“Every life is precious.” Charlie answered quietly.

“Yes. Hate me if you must, but I refuse to be a tool of destruction.” She clasped her fingers around the bar in her hand. “That’s why I have to shut down all the experiments.” She dropped the bar into Bumblebee’s hand. “And why I can’t join you right now. Please finish this for me so I can move on to the next planet.” She gave him a wry smile. “Besides, they won’t respond to me anyways.”

Bumblebee looked suddenly bashful, perhaps because he remembered why they would only respond to him. Still, he took the stick this time. With that out of the way, the Constructor shut down.

“Couldn’t she at least pick a 40s streetrod or something? No. She picks a rusted out… Something…” Charlie groaned as she wiped the sweat from her brow. “But she cleans up great once you give her a nice buff and shine.”

Bumblebee beeped with approval from the driveway.

“Do you think she’ll ever wake up?”

The chorus to “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey started playing.

“Yeah… It’s only been a few days.” Charlie wandered over to Bumblebee and climbed in the driver seat. “How about you? How long are you going to be in town?”

The chorus to “Tainted Love” by Soft Cell started playing.

“Yeah. I figured you could only stick around until she left. Optimus filled me in on Constructors and how they got their bad reputation. Not siding with anyone made a lot of people think they were turning a blind eye to all the death and destruction. I bet some of them were just scared of getting used to do bad stuff.”

“Under Pressure” by Queen and David Bowie started playing.

“Why… is there so much noise?” There was a loud thud and the pair looked into the garage. The Constructor was in bot form ducking to keep from hitting the ceiling seemingly for a second time.

“She’s a wake!” Charlie beamed hopping to her feet.

“It would seem I have been repaired as well. Do I have you to thank for this, Miss Charlie?”

“Looks like you picked up some country when you scanned that pickup. What with the Miss Charlie and all.” Charlie poked fun of the Constructor with a fake Southern accent.

“I suppose my speech patterns were slightly altered. I will correct them.”

“Nah, it gives you character! Like all those, uh, dents and stuff!” Charlie vaguely motioned to a large dent on the bot’s posterior.

“I see. I did just scan the first vehicle I came across.”

“How about something like this?” Charlie showed her a full spread of a street rod in a magazine.

“It does have a certain aesthetic appeal. However, it will have to wait for another time. I must leave now and complete my mission.” She looked to Bumblebee grimly. “Did you?”

“The battery thing?” Charlie looked between them quickly. “Yeah there are already so many of them!”

Bumblebee turned around and popped the trunk to reveal two batteries. The Constructor reached down and took one out. A faint smile came across her face.

“I’m glad to see my proof of concept was valid. But in making the nanobots so adaptable so they could gather energy harmlessly… I created something truly terrible. I cannot apologize enough for all the danger I put you both in.” She carefully put the battery back in his trunk.

“So how many more experiments do you have to shut down?” Charlie asked looking to the Constructor.

“Nine. But they can be shut down remotely assuming my back up bases weren’t found and destroyed by the Decepticons. Then it’s just a matter of collecting the batteries.” A desolate air settled over her. “Though, I have no idea what to do with them now that Cybertron has fallen.”

“Collect them for the day when we reclaim Cybertron. Or, for when we make a new home for our people.” The brightly painted and ostentatious Semi tractor said from the street.

“Master Prime.” The constructor looked startled for a moment but quickly regained composure. “I will look forward to that day.”

She took a few steps forward and turned back into a truck.

“Hey wait!” Charlie grabbed her tailgate to keep her from moving. “You need a codename! That way you can communicate and no one will know it’s you!”

“A codename? Like Bumblebee?”

“Yeah!”

“I wouldn’t know how to decide on such a thing. Please call me whatever you wish, Miss Charlie.”

“Then I’m calling you Seraphim!”

“When I return, you will have to explain to me it’s meaning and why you chose it for me.” With that she pulled away and followed Optimus down the road, a faint shimmer distorted the air as she went.

“Aren’t you going with them?” Charlie looked to Bumblebee expectantly.

“Push it” by Salt-n-Pepa started playing as Bumblebee slowly drove towards her. She backed up into the garage with a confused expression.

“Do you know what that song is about, Bee?” He didn’t answer as the garage door slid down. “Don’t you tease me, Bee.”

#transformers #charbee #bumblebee #charlie watson #charbee week #day 4 #back to life #fanfic #fanfiction #i'm not dead yet!

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ckret2 · 5 years

Note

Write a story of a magical transformation

Anonymous said: Actually more specific (about the magical transformation) godzilla turning into a human but after the sun sets that sort of thing

oh man it’s like reverse shrek.

nah I’m not gonna do reverse shrek to y'all that would be evil

but hey, diverging a little bit from this prompt, do you wanna check out this idea i had for a gijinka AU

This isn’t proofed since I wanted to see how fast I could write it. Answer: I could write it in about seventy minutes. Not quite the thirty I was shooting for, but!!

Edit: this is now proofed! Thank goodness.

###

Godzilla hoped his roar shook the three-headed invader to its bones.

He had bites on his neck and arms, slashes across his chest, and his throat was raw from screaming and blasting at the invader. They had been fighting since before dawn, and the sun was nearly setting now. He burned with exhaustion—but he wasn’t weakened. No. He couldn’t afford to be weak. Too much was on the line for that.

Behind him, barely hatched from her egg, he could feel Mothra touching his mind to encourage him, support him—but not able to do much more, unless she got close enough that she could get a good silk shot at the invader. He didn’t want her to try. The invader had smashed too many of her eggs already; Godzilla didn’t know if she had any left. If he didn’t protect her here and now, he might never have another chance.

The invader’s necks swayed and waved, like three golden sea serpents gliding through the deep.

The last of Godzilla’s roar faded, drifting away over the ocean, no mountains on this flat island for it to echo against. It was replaced by the sound of the surf and the circling human-made metal birds above observing the battle.

The invader roared back, three eerie alien shrieks. Godzilla could see his own blood in one of its mouths.

He didn’t give it a chance to finish its roar. He charged, meaning to sink his teeth into the middle neck, the plates on his back already beginning to glow.

###

“The sun is setting,” one said. Xir voice was quiet, flat, and cold, and yet still seemed too loud in the dark space ship. “They’re not moving further west. This is the maximum amount of solar radiation we are capable of exposing them to without restarting the operation again. Shall we proceed to phase three?”

Phase one had been creating a “lens,” so to speak, in outer space between this Sun 185,762 and its Planet 3. The “lens” consisted of billions of tiny crystals, unnoticeable to the inhabitants of Planet 3, but drastically altering the kind of radiation that the star gave off—turning it into a radiation with the power to physically transform the planet’s largest inhabitants.

Phase two had been manipulating the most dangerous of said planet’s largest inhabitants into chasing each other all day, racing westward across the surface of the planet, so that they would follow the sun as it traveled across the sky and absorb far more than the usual daily dose of radiation. Today, Monster 0 and Monster 1 had been in the sunlight for twenty hours. It had taken numerous attempts to get this far—this was Phase 2 Attempt 38, in fact—because of Monster 0’s tendency to create cloud cover wherever it went.

Phase three was taking advantage of this radiation.

Their projections had called for a full 24 hours for maximum effectiveness, but it had taken so long just to get up to 20. They couldn’t afford to waste more time. And 20 was within their acceptable range.

The one in control of this operation nodded. “Proceed to phase three,” xe said. As xir underlings worked their controls, xe added, “We will deal with any side effects of their low dosage as they come up. Begin preparing contingency plans.”

A dull white beam of light shot out from their ship toward Planet 3, vanishing invisibly in the atmosphere. “Bring up the surveillance feeds,” xe said. Holographic live feeds, sent from their spies mixed with the primitive aircraft circling the battle far below, displayed above their consoles. They all watched quietly.

###

One of the invader’s heads had squeezed its jaws around Godzilla’s throat—not enough to strangle, but enough to keep him from blasting the vile creature like it deserved. He could feel static against the side of his face as another prepared to electrocute him. He let go of his grip on the middle throat and clawed the threatening head away, bellowing, trying to get a good enough grip on it to break its jaw—

And then something he couldn’t see hit him.

It felt like he was floating in air, and the world vanished.

###

“Phase three successfully completed,” one said. “Monsters 0 and 1 have been neutralized. Nearby instance of Monster 3 also appears to have been neutralized.”

The leader nodded in satisfaction. “Report this in,” xe said. “We will await orders to proceed to phase four.”

Phase four. Full invasion.

###

Godzilla’s senses came back to him slowly. He was face down flat on the ground. His scales felt raw and soft, like he’d been cooked alive; and the sensation was so strange it took him a moment to realize that his earlier bites and scratches didn’t hurt at all.

He opened his eyes. His vision swam—everything looked distorted somehow, in a way he couldn’t make sense of—had he been hit on the head? How badly?

He got his claws under him and tried to push himself to his feet. The attempt was too successful; instead of leveraging himself partway up, he flung himself from lying on his chest to lying on his back. He grimaced, wondering what the hell was wrong with—

Wait, “on his back”? Where were his back plates?

Why couldn’t he feel his tail?

He rolled onto his side, and saw his claws for the first time—not claws. Even in the faded light, he could see that. Hands. Soft and flat, with long sausage-like fingers, connected to arms that were far too long, arms that were connected to—

He scrambled to his feet, whining in horror at the sight of his body—even his whine sounded wrong, high and nasally and weak. One of the human-made birds above focused a light on him, blinding him for a moment—when he adjusted to the light, and could properly see all the smooth squishy brown flesh where his hard gray hide was supposed to be, he had to shut his eyes, dizzy.

He kept having to adjust his balance with his arms, unsure how to totter on two feet without a tail to support him. What happened to him? He looked like a bald ape. Or maybe—no, that wasn’t possible—he didn’t think he’d ever seen a human with all its clothes off, but based on what he had seen of them, perhaps...

He looked frantically around the island, and almost fell onto his back again. What had once seemed like slight unevennesses in the ground, swells that barely came up to his ankle, were now hills towering over him. He’d shrunk. He really was human.

Which meant there was no one to protect—

He spun around so fast he fell down, yelping. (Oh, gross, a bunch of hair had fallen in his face. He smacked it out of the way.) His heart threatened to leap out of his chest when he saw Mothra’s cracked eggshell was empty, the larva taken—where?!

But no. Just in front of the shell, crouched down, knees pulled to chest and arms wrapped around knees, was another human. An even tinier human. Was that—?

He tried to roar her name. It hurt his throat so bad he coughed and wheezed. Her voice was just as mangled and garbled, but he could barely make out his own name. Relieved, he flopped to the ground yet again. (Ow, the back of his head was weak.) She was still safe.

Ha. “Safe.” Was this safe? Being human? Could she make any more eggs as a human? And how did this happen?! And what about the invader, where did it—

Something behind him let out a raw shriek.

He scrambled back to his feet. He had to push the gross hair dropping from his head out of his eyes again.

There were three more humans, arms locked together so tightly they might well be attached to each other, looking between each other’s faces, hissing and gibbering to each other in a panic.

When he stood, though, they fell silent, turning toward him. They were roughly the same height as Godzilla, but paler even than Mothra’s new body, so pale they almost glowed. And as annoying as Godzilla’s hair was, at least it wasn’t as long as these humans’, hanging down below their knees in messy yellowish curtains.

The middle human tightened its grips on the other two, and hissed. They dropped into half crouches together, bending low, like they were preparing to charge. Their long hair rippled behind them as they moved.

Their manes swayed and waved, like three golden sea serpents gliding through the deep.

Still here.

And now they outnumbered him and Mothra. Oh no. He wasn’t going to let that happen.

Godzilla roared so hard he could feel his voice starting to give out. The three humans shrieked back, new voices high and piercing. And then he charged at them, half running and half falling forward, determined to get the middle one’s throat between his square teeth.

###

The Monarch monitoring ship had been dead silent for almost five minutes, watching the feed of the battle on the island.

At the first sight of blood dripping to the sand between the weird new combatants, Coleman shook out of his trance, and turned to look at Serizawa. “Uh…”

Serizawa had his mouth cradled contemplatively in one hand. His eyes were completely bugged out.

“So,” Coleman said weakly. “So, uh, what… what should we… uh… do.”

Serizawa didn’t answer for a moment. He let go of his face to gesture at their former titans; opened his mouth; shut his mouth; gestured again; put his hand back over his mouth; and gestured for a third time. “Well,” he said.

Coleman waited for Serizawa to say more. When he didn’t, Coleman nodded in enthusiastic agreement.

“Well,” Serizawa said again, “obviously, we should… go bring them some blankets.”

Coleman blinked, and looked again at the… very naked humans.

“Oh,” he said. “Yeah.”

Serizawa took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “Land the ship,” he finally said. “Let’s go introduce ourselves.”

###

#godzilla #kotm #mothra #king ghidorah #ghidorah #gijinka #my writing #fanfic #('why do xiliens get xe pronouns?' because im rebelling against the implication that xiliens have a patriarchy)#(also: X)#anonymous #ask

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redrobin-detective · 5 years

Text

Men Cannot Fly (But Bats Do)

Speed one-shot done just shy of the hour mark, with only a quick read-through.

You only hear about the Bats but you never got to see them.

Most days, people didn’t think they were real, merely a myth propagated by the Gotham police department to scare off the more superstitious of criminals. Many people in the League didn’t even believe, laughing off rumors with a wry shake of their head.

“As if a vigilante could be active, much less a whole group, without us knowing about it. We keep track of all super-powered individuals.” A few, not many, posed the idea that these Bats didn’t use powers for their crime-fighting. That always got a laugh. Gotham was an ugly town with known meta villains. Sure, there was Green Arrow in Star City and the old timer Wildcat to trot out when anyone accused the League of being over-powered. But it’s not as if mere humans could possibly make a difference on the battlefields that evolved following the advent of superheroes. Or so everyone thought.

Clark himself could never feel convinced. He’d met some terrifying humans in his life, both in and out of costume and no one could deny that someone was keeping Gotham in check. So many times he’d hear screams and terror and be halfway to the city only for the chaos to suddenly quiet down. The police officially took credit but no one missed the arrival of a specialized signal on top of their headquarters. Of course, no comment was made.

He doesn’t really have an excuse why he’s here now. He’s got one ear cocked in the direction of Metropolis, ready to speed back the moment he’s needed. So why is he spending a blissful moment of free time hovering miles above Gotham City? Maybe he’s just curious about all the rumors circling. Maybe he’s looking to recruit this Bat Man. Maybe he wants to know if it is possible for a man to fly without the aid of super powers. Before he can second guess, he gently floats past the border of Bludhaven and into Gotham proper where few heroes have tread before.

Clark looks around hesitantly before floating forward. He’s Superman, the Man of Steel, a spooky, dirty city shouldn’t frighten him. And yet there’s a tenseness to the city that puts him on edge. It takes him way too long to realize it’s because he’s being watched. He turns and catches a shadow ducking quickly behind a building. Clark races forward but no one is there. The hairs on the back of his neck tingle because something isn’t adding up.

He can hear a child’s laughter, muffled and quiet but the footsteps are difficult to ascertain. There’s the swish of a cape but no sound of a heartbeat. Clark spins around and there’s another light laughter, more feminine this time before their presence is also erased, but not entirely. He’s so thrown off, he’s had enemies turn invisible before but he’s never seen it done like this.

“Is someone there?” He questions, turning around again and is greeted only by shadows but he feels, even if he can’t see, the eyes in them. He uses his xray vision, sweeping across the landscape and comes up with nothing, but then who are these tittering children he keeps on hearing? Coming to Gotham was a mistake, he realizes quite suddenly. This isn’t the world he knows, these people don’t obey the laws he’s become comfortable with: the bounds of magic, the physics of the speedforce, the technology of the lantern ring. These Bats are a world all their own.

He flips around, prepared to fly out of the city and finds himself face to face with a boy perched atop a gargoyle. Clark stumbles back mid-air and the young man, barely a teenager if he had to guess, smiles. The boy is practically invisible to him, his heartbeat silenced by armor, the lead built into it preventing him from seeing underneath. The long dark cape and muted reds, golds and greens help him blend effortlessly into the landscape. It’s hard to believe he’s really there. And then the boy lets out the breath he’s obvious been holding, it’s been almost five minutes has he been doing that all this time, and suddenly he comes to life.

“What’s a super man like you doing in a place like this?” The kid quips, his voice pitched low to blend effortlessly with the wind. Other than his quiet breathing, the lightly swishing cape and the minute creaks in his costume, he barely makes a sound.

“I was looking for you,” Clark says, floating forward a little. The kid straightens a bit but otherwise holds his ground. “I’ve heard rumors about vigilantes in the city, I wanted to see if it was true.”

“And now that you’ve found me?” The kid asks with an amused tilt to his head.

“Well uh the Justice League is always accepting new members,” he says before he can stop himself. There’s normally a vigorous vetting process before any prospective hero is even considered for membership but if the past few minutes is anything to go by, these Bats would be an incredible asset to the League, to the world.

“Right because we’re clearly after the kind of attention the Justice League brings,” the kid adds with a sarcastic lilt as he stands up and walks to the bitter edge of the gargoyle. Clark automatically holds his hands out in case the lad falls but he seems perfectly balanced. “We have enough work here, we don’t need supers telling what we can and can’t do. We protect Gotham, you protect the world, easy enough.”

“But you can do so much more,” Clark tries again and the boy’s face loses some of it’s stoniness.

“I’ve been talking to the Boss Man but he’s pretty stubborn. I’m not opposed to stepping outside city limits but well, B’s all I got and so I play by his rules, for now at least.” The boy winks at him before stepping back, the heels of his feet hanging over the dark city that looks eager to claim him.

“If you’re playing by his rules, then why are you talking to me,” Clark can’t help but question. The boy grins wider.

“Who says I’m not talking to you under orders,” with that, the boy lets gravity grab a hold of his body and pull him off the gargoyle. He hangs there for a moment in perfect freefall before his cape flairs and a line whizzes out, allowing him to swing to safety. A cheerful little whoop is the only indication that he’s anything other than a large bird, native only to Gotham. As he stares after the boy, a shadow dislodges from atop nearby building out of the corner of his eye. He sees a feminine figure with long hair step out into the pale moonlight, illuminating a yellow bat on her chest. She salutes before copying the boy before her, falling and then flying by way of a grappling hook.

A third shadow appears, taller and more solid than the others. He’s tall, almost as tall as Clark himself but not nearly as broad. The dark cape cover most of his body and, like the others, he barely makes any sound. There’s no lighthearted quips, no approval in his gaze. He only pulls out his grappling guns and follows after his children? his apprentices? leaving Clark all alone and wondering if the last few minutes are nothing more than an impossible dream created from the smog.

Either way, Clark’s time in Gotham has ended. He can hear the screech of fire trucks back home and there’s a palpable tension that says his presence is no longer welcomed. So he quickly flies past the boundaries and races back to a world where things make sense, where children don’t run around in capes and humans don’t fly. He slows, just for a moment in his flight as he thinks. Ordinary men and women don’t fly, that is true, but heroes do. He thinks he’s taken the first tentative steps in breaking the Bats’ self-induced isolation. Maybe one day, he’ll stand alongside the Bat Man, share his secrets, call him friend.

Until then, Clark will harbor this little meeting all to himself. After all, according to most people, there are no vigilantes in Gotham City and that’s just how her heroes like it.

#isolation AU #i guess that what this is called #Clark is Uber Spooked by these Bats #Dick is losing his godamn mind 'B THAT WAS SUPERMAN HOLY FUCK'#B is unimpressed ofc #could go worse for first meetings but couldve been better #okay hour is up here ya go #could be better but at least I did SOMETHING

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a-d-n-d-journal · 4 years

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Game Session #10

Characters:

Mirri in the wind, tabaxi; rapier

Rysiel, half-elf druid; acid burns, simple clothing and leather armor, scimitar

Teir, tiefling warlock; acid burns, vibrant gold skin and black hair w/silver highlights, horns, hooves, expensive-looking clothes and leather armor, carries a dagger as his only (physical) weapon

Zastu, dragonborn rogue; white scales almost completely covered in a hooded cape and mask, leather armor, short bow and shortsword + dagger

Noteable NPCs...

Sydiri Haunlar, human (Chondathan) fighter; brunette, chain shirt, dagger, shortbow, wooden club

Zephyros, cloud giant; windswept white hair, wispy white bear, billow purple robe with gold stars

Amarath and N'von, two human cultists missionaries and their seven human cult followers friends; all dressed in tight fabric wrapped around their thin bodies, topped with head wraps and decorated with feathers. Amarath carries a disturbing "smiling bag"

We were all tired and braindead during this one, so details are sparse...

Zephyros welcomes the party (Rysiel, Teir, Zastu, plus Sydiri at this point) to his floating tower. He explains that his extra-planar allies have told him that someone would come to help fix the mess that is the Ordning. What is the Ordning? It's giant society. Ever since forever, giant society has been ordered by type—with Storm Giants at the top, and Cloud Giants (me, Zephyros) below that, then whoever –handwaves– below that (fire and frost giants, stone giants, hill giants). Giants used to rule this land, until the war with the dragons millenia ago (giants and dragons are mortal enemies you know). Well, with the recent uprising of the dragons (a couple years ago), Annam got angry at us and called us all lazy and complacent. Oh, Annam, he's the Giant god. He looks over everything. And he broke the Ordning, that's why you've been hearing about giant attacks lately—everyone is trying to prove they're the most fit giant to rule over all of us. Er, you have heard about that, haven't you? Well, I thought that king Hekaton, lord of the Storm Giants, would be able to keep his seat of power, and hold control over giant society. He certainly seemed like he was going to continue that way. But then... Well, his wife, poor Neri, went missing. She had a soft spot for the small folk (that's you), and met with them on a regular basis, on an island off the Sword Coast. She turned up dead a while later—murdered. Hekaton, as you can imagine, flew into a rage. He would have led the giants to smash every small folk settlement on the coast, if it weren't for their youngest daughter—Serissa—who held her mother's affection for the small folk. She convinced Hekaton not to destroy you all, for Neri's sake. But now he's... Well, nevermind. Rysiel and Teir pipe up, insisting that Zephyros finish that thought. He's resistant at first, but they guess the truth, or near to it. Hekaton has gone missing now too. He went in search of his wife's murderers, but hasn't been heard form for weeks. His youngest daughter—Serissa, remember?—holds the throne, with her elder sisters—Mirran and Nym—acting as advisors, along with her uncle Uthor probably.

The party decides that going straight to the Storm King's throne is the best idea, and ask Zephyros where it is. Unfortunately, it is beyond them for many reasons. Maelstrom is a citadel deep within the Trackless Sea. Technically Zephyros' tower can bring them there—or close anyway, but they'd definitely be destroyed without magical protection, and Zephyros isn't interested in risking death. He offers to bring them close, but assures them they would die (kind of non-chalantly, at which point Mirri tells them that Zephyros isn't all there due to his fondess for contacting other planes and sometimes going temporarily insane). He knows how to get there, but they aren't near important enough—yet—to be able to manage it. The party sighs collectively, and asks to go to their second destination—Triboar—to deliver the news of Darthag Ulgar's death to his ex-wife at the Lionshield Trading post there. Zephyros brightens up immediately and says it'll take about 11 days (275 hours exactly) to get there. He asks if there's anything else he can get them before he retires upstairs to consult his extraplanar allies (Mirri rolls their eyes, "Not again!") —I also tell the party that they can treat Zephyros as a sort of merchant, but his supplies might be limited since he's a giant. Zephyros mentions that Mirri's (+1) rapier used to be a clothes pin, so who knows what he might have. (Rysiel asks for -something-, but I roll for it and he doesn't have it :/ ); They get some food—very airy spongcake-type stuff, and Zephyros brings down one of his many journals from the Moonshae Isles, which he wrote and illustrated himself. Mirri can't read them, but has been looking at the pictures a lot. Rysiel translates for Teir, who is increbily interested. The journals are about 100lbs each, and 4-5ft tall, made of thick parchment. (They can be used as a mundane item that grants advantage on certain knowledge rolls, but specific information isn't really available unless I go read a jillion wiki articles about the Moonshae Isles and their history/fauna/flora/etc). There's also some roleplay with the Tressym (Rillix) as they figure out what to feed it. Zephyros drops a hunk of raw meat at some point (and some of the griffon's hay bedding for Bobble), and Rysiel creates a bonfire to cook with. Zephyros reminds them not to come up to the second floor, or the griffon aerie. (Not that they have the ability anyway) The days start passing... Teir seeks Sydiri's help in wearing armor and using shields (they improvise with a giant wicker coaster). On the first day, Zephyros approaches "Ryan" to tell him that someone is looking for him. They go aside (outside) to talk, and Teir sneaks behind to eavesdrop. Both "Ryan" and Teir are disappointed though, when Zephyros reveals that "someone is looking for you" is the entirety of the message. Zephyros doesn't seem to notice, but the next day he comes down after speaking to his allies again and tells "Ryan" that "A Rainy Kevin" (or is it "Kevin Rainy"?) is the one looking for him, but that it will be someone else that finds him. Ryan/Rysiel thanks Zephyros, but looks confused.

On the third day, the party is surprised by some visitors, because no one wants to stand in the wind and cold to watch the fucking majestic countryside far below. There's a fluttering of many large wings, and then a moment later—some shouting. The voices ask—in the common tongue—for the owner and resident of the tower to come out and say hello. Zephyros is sleeping upstairs at the time, so the party waits until the owners of the voices make their way inside. Nine slendar humans appear, all dressed similarily in fabric wrapped around their bodies, tied tightly. They have more fabric wrapped around their heads, and are decoraed with feathers. Two of them appear somewhat more decorated, and one carries a shoulder back with a distrubing-looking smiley face. Teir recognizes the bag as magic, but doesn't remember why. The newcomers seems somewhat surprised to find some small folk, but ask if there's a cloud giant around. The party stands around looking offended until Zephyros calls down and greets them. "Have you heard of our Lord and Saviour, Yan C Bin?" One of the cultists missionaries asks. Zephyros looks confused. Two of them introduce themselves (to Zephyros) as N'von and Amarath, and explain that Yan-C-Bin wants his help to 'restore the planes to their rightful primodial state'. They're hazy on what this means, they just want a yes/no from Zephyros. Zephyros is confused, so he asks the party. Teir seems to think this is a bad idea, and is jealous of the newcomer's arrival, and also: how the fuck did you get here? The missionaries try to ignore him, but it quickly becomes obvious that he's not going anywhere, so: "On our giant vultures, of course." Teir tries to recall what he can about giant vultures (kind of an unusual choice of mount, but not unheard of) and what cultures/societies/groups were known to use them (no one close by! probably from another plane?) (I don't remember the rest of the conversation, but Zephyros goes upstairs to consult his planar allies on the matter, and the missionaries go outside because they like the wind and open air)

More than an hour passes and Mirri realizes that Zephyros must have had an 'accident' (he failed his saving throw on the spell), and is lying comatose upstairs. Teir sends his raven up to check on the giant, and then they have a game of pantomime to try to figure out what's going on (Zephyros is laying on the floor, but is alive). Mirri explains that he'll be "fine" in another 8 hours or so. A little while later, the two speaking missionaries pop back inside to see what's taking so long. (I don't remember what was said) They have an argument with Teir and Zastu (Rysiel is brooding in the corner or something? Idk), and Mirri walks by with 'Calm Emotions' (make targets indifferent), causing one of the missionaries and Zastu to chill out. The missionaries go back outside. Moments later they hear the flapping of wings and a scrabbling on the tower wall. Normally they'd ignore it, as the grphyons that Zephros keeps are constantly coming and going, but something is suspicious. Zastu sneaks outside and counts the missionaries and vultures there—only seven of nine of them are there. She goes back inside to tell the party. They are very offended by the presumptuousness of these cultists missionaries!!! To be continued...

Spells cast:

Mirri:

Abilities:

Cantrips: Mage Hand

Spells: Calm Emotions

Slots used: 0/4 1st; 1/3 2nd; Regained: All (multiple rests)

Rysiel:

Cantrips: Create Bonfire

Spells:

Slots used: 0/4 1st; 0/3 2nd Regained: All (multiple rests)

Teir:

Cleric abilities:

Cantrips:

Spells:

Rituals:

Slots used: Warlock 0/2 Cleric 0/2 1st Regained: All (multiple rests)

Killcount:

Mirri: 0 Rysiel: 0 Teir: 0 Zastu: 0

Treasure looted:

Supplies for 4 minor Potions of Healing (bought for 12gp ea. by Zastu)

Made 2 minor Potions of Healing (Zastu)

#5e #A Party Most Queer #storm king's thunder #D&D

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witchqueenofthemoon · 5 years

Text

BODY AND SOUL Part 24 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: I suspected the Gala would be at least two parts, and I was right--this is ostensibly the first half of it, 25 will be the second half. I don’t think it’ll go longer than that, but who knows, I never know until I sit down and write the chapter. Here are some higher quality pics of Kenzie’s dress. Her hair looks like this, but with tiny dark red rose buds rather than those little white flowers in it. Her makeup is similar to this look for Billie’s Bello magazine shoot, but her lipstick is like mine here. Here are her shoes. Kenzie is beginning to be able to see herself the way other people do--as something truly divine, her “Supremeness”, as it were--but she has no ego in those moments. The perception is an accurate one. The album Duncan puts on is Prince’s self-titled, the first track is I WANNA BE YOUR LOVER. Duncan’s hair in this part is similar to Cody’s hair here, which is more or less always how Duncan’s hair looks, just particularly well-coiffed on this night, I guess. His makeup is like Cody’s here. With Hannah and Georgio, I wanted to juxtapose the different reactions Duckenzie invoke in people--for some they are divinely inspiring, and for others with darker auras, they invoke carnal lust. Hannah’s jumpsuit looks like this, her hair like this. I based her vaguely on my friend Aly, who has a very dusty sunset aura to me and a beautiful soul. Here’s Annette’s Gala dress. Her hair looks like this. The necklace she gives Kenzie is vintage Cartier, and it looks like this. A special shout out to Luna (@misslunarayne/@officialcodysfallenangels) who inspired Anchaly reading Hawthorne’s THE NEW ADAM AND EVE; she’s the one who told me about the Millory parallels in that book. Momby’s dress, her rose pin, her scarf. Here’s Jimi Hendrix’s PURPLE HAZE (he and I have the same birthday, November 27th). STOP AND BE FRIENDLY is a reference to CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE THIRD KIND, one of my favorite films (so I made it one of Kenzie’s favorites, too). I couldn’t find a logo for Shepherd Unlimited, and have no idea if the HOUSE OF CARDS showrunners ever created one, so I made one up. Here’s Gretchen Friedrichs’ absolute monstrosity of a dress. Sissy Conners’ dress looks like this. The “very famous actor” can be whoever you want it to be--I dunno, Colin Firth or Ryan Gosling or somebody. Here are the Pre-Raphaelite works I reference in this part: VENUS VERTICORDIA, VANITY, THE FIELD OF THE SLAIN, THE GOLDEN STAIRS, OPHELIA. Here are the angels from Waterhouse’s ST. CECELIA who remind Kenzie of Lindy and Gabby. To me, Lindy and Gabby represent the Millory fans; the lovely people I’ve met online who ship Michael x Mallory, without whom I would not have been inspired to write this story. The Millory fans are by and large extremely beautiful souls who have touched my heart immensely--in most cases, young women (many of you bi/pan, like me) who want to believe in love and redemption and beauty, and my fic, in many ways, is for young (and young at heart) women and nonbinary people who want these things in their lives. I still believe in the healing, transcendent power of love, despite all the terrible things in this world, and I ALWAYS will, and this is and will continue to be an unabashed love story. Here’s Marissa Montague’s dress. Her hair is like Emma’s here. She was fun to write. My Marissa is a very superficial, sad person, and Kenzie sees through her right away. The Ducatis are a wealthy family I made up who Duncan used to hang out with when he was younger, partying all the time with superficial socialites like Marissa. I wanted to note that Duncan did go through a phase where he was doing coke all the time and sleeping around, because he is indeed a spoiled rich boy in some ways, and he wasn’t always a great person. Kenzie has given him purpose and an active desire to be better, because love always inspires one to be better. Kenzie is waking to powers she didn’t know she had as she and Duncan get closer to learning about their true natures. If anyone would like to make a Gala moodboard/edit for this part of the story, I’d be OVERJOYED. And as ever, if you’re reading along, your comments, likes, reblogs, asks and edits mean everything to me. Please take a second to like the fic if you’re reading, thank you!

Kenzie broke their kiss reluctantly, her head cloudy with the scent of him (the woods of you, your ache for me, I feel the wildness of your high desire for me, baby, impatient for later), aware of Claire and Morgan’s eyes on them in the bright studio. Duncan made a soft sound as she pulled away from him, one of regret at her absence--his lips came up to her temple, his hands pulling her into him; those hands on the silky gold of her dress made her heart drop down to float in her stomach, spread warm tendrils to her sex. She could feel his thoughts still, aching against her.

Kenzie. My beloved. Everyone will bow to you tonight. But I swear I am your most devoted. And I swear I will worship you best.

“Wow, it got really hot in here,” Claire murmured, fluttering her hand against her cheek, breathing out in a long stream. “Fuck, you two look amazing. Wait until they do her hair and makeup, Duncan. They’ll want to hang pictures of her in the MOMA.”

“Clairebear, stoppit.”

“I am not fucking joking around, Kenzie Lou. You two look like a drawing in a mythology book. Like a fairy tale.” Kenzie could see the tears glittering around the edges of Claire’s eyes; her friend looked away, clearly overwhelmed in her emotions.

“My darlings,” Morgan said, coming up to them, reaching for their hands. Kenzie took one, Duncan the other, his arm still dipped around her waist, trailing up and down the softness of the gold there, against the waves of her hair. “Likes Hades and his bright queen Persephone.”

“They really are like that,” Kenzie heard Claire say as Morgan moved toward her assistant, agreeing delightedly, grasping Claire’s hand now. She felt her cheeks flush.

“That’s how I always think of her,” Kenzie heard Duncan say to Morgan. “Surrounded by flowers, bringing spring. Healing me.” Kenzie’s heart twinged. Everyone can see it. How he’s been healed. And I supposed it has been because of me in some ways. But I know he had it in him, in his dear heart, all along. And despite what he knows about Annette now, he’ll defy that too. He’ll transcend whatever was holding him back. Duncan had turned his head back down to her, and his hands tightened on her, the gold bracelet brushing along her bare shoulder blade.

I will, baby. With you here, I can do anything. As long as you’re here I know nothing can really hurt me. My constant moon. My flower of the universe. She was nodding, overwhelmed in the weight of his touch, his hand drifting to cradle her head at the nape of her neck.

“Erik’s going to be bringing the stylists to the penthouse soon,” he said down to her, his eyes intensely bright on her (so blue so blue blue like the blessed daylight, blue like sapphire), his thoughts bursts of brilliant desire, like tiny electric shocks cascading over her. “He’s going to lose his mind when he sees you--”

“I’m losing my mind over you--” Kenzie gripped at the velvet lapels of his gold-kissed jacket, lifting her hand up to the soft waves of his hair, the diamond and gold at her wrist reminding her again of her daydreams of the circlet of a crown around his head. Duncan. You worship me but my love, I worship you also. I am moved, body and soul, by you. Prince of stars.

The gold is your hands on me, he whispered into the corners of her mind. How it feels to be touched by you. How it feels to be looked at by you. How it feels to be loved by you. The gold is you and tonight everything is for you, and everyone will see you and know.

“Duncan, look at her shoes,” Claire was coming over to them, having found some semblance of composure, carefully holding Kenzie’s elbow as she leaned to the hem of the cascading gold dress, lifting it so Kenzie’s feet were exposed--her shoes were shimmering gold platform sandals with ribbons that wrapped around her ankles, tying at the back.

“They remind me of the shoes she was wearing the night we met,” Duncan was saying to Claire, his hand trailing down Kenzie’s arm, sending a shiver down her back. “I remember I looked at her feet and I thought oh, she ties her shoes in double knots, like I do. And in that moment, I was a goner.”

“Everything you ever wanted,” Kenzie grinned at him. “A girl who ties her shoes like you.”

“She looked like a fucking angel, Claire. You look like a fucking goddess right now, Kenzie. Like a queen. I love you.” Duncan was pressing against her again, his mouth on her cheek, his hands falling down the dress, and Kenzie’s heart was in her mouth, the shape and scent of him the only thing, the greatest of all things, the center of her soul intoxicated in him.

“He ain’t kidding, Kenz. I can’t wait to see BPF tomorrow, honestly. That website is becoming one of my favorite pastimes nowadays, they’re as obsessed with my best friend as I am.” Claire’s eyes had tears in them again, and Kenzie felt her own eyes go misty.

“I fucking love you, Clairebear. Thank you for everything. I can’t tell you how fucking happy I am about you and Harris.”

When Claire had been helping Kenzie dress in the side-room, her friend had told her how shyly and sweetly Harris had called her after Kenzie had passed along her phone number; how he’d asked her if she’d be open to “stepping out” with him, and had told her that he’d been immediately moved by how lovely she was. “I know he’s like ten years older than me, but I feel like--” Claire had blushed deeply, and Kenzie had clutched her hands (oh Claire, I love you and your sweet spirit so much)--”I just--Kenzie Lou, I just feel like he has a lovely soul. I feel like he’s been mostly happy--like me--for a long time, but also lonely, like me, for a long time--” Tears had welled up in Claire’s eyes, and half-dressed, Kenzie had clutched her, burying her face in Claire’s flowery shoulder (she always smells like sunlight on grass and fresh lavender to me), knowing what Claire had meant, knowing Claire didn’t need to say anything else. To have someone to understand you, someone who can truly hold you in the hollow of their heart. I know, Clairebear. More than a friend. A lover. She had pushed a wave of gold into Claire--Claire had quieted and gone back to helping with her dress, wrapping the train carefully over Kenzie’s shoulder, straightening its cascade over her shoulder blade, pulling her hair free from where it’d tucked under the bodice and pulling her fingers through the waves. “Princess Kenzie,” she had whispered, and it had struck a long chord through Kenzie’s heart, reminded her of Duncan--Princess, moon princess, my little moonbeam--and the worship of his words and his lips and his hands in the darkness in their bed, and Kenzie had shivered to behold the way she seemed to transform in the gown, the way the woman who had stared at her in the slender mirror of the dressing room truly began to seem like a princess--like some golden queen, some other Kenzie who fears nothing. And so I will resolve to be her tonight. I will be fearless, regal, that Kenzie who is a queen, Persephone on her throne in the Underworld. I will pretend I’m her tonight, and hold my head high. Duncan told me I belong in this world--and I think I do, because I belong where he is. So I’ll pretend I’m not afraid. I’ll be the one who protects him tonight, because his heart has been wounded and his spirit needs me.

Even looking at him in the splendor of the gold-dipped blazer and the regal gold collar, she could still see the pain behind his gaze, the melancholy ache of yesterday still lingering around his mouth. My Hades, trapped in the Underworld. You felt lost; you still do. Even in the certainty of our love, you are questioning who you are. But together we’re going to find out. We’re going to find the secrets of ourselves together. Duncan was thanking Morgan, kissing her gloved hand, making Morgan laugh with delight--Kenzie’s heart pounded fiercely as she watched him, the fall of his hair, his height, the brightness of his eyes, the curve of his mouth, his angelic beauty, compounded by the elegant clothes. Beloved. Tonight we’ll show everyone how bright we shine together--tomorrow, we’ll retreat into the woods, to whisper our love into each other without needing to speak, to hide and heal in each other’s embrace, and gaze at the stars, and find each other’s secret places. To find the secrets that are so close to us, that we cannot see but have begun to feel, to sense in each other. They are so near. They are the shadow that stands beside us, and soon we’ll be able to see them, Duncan, baby.

He was looking over at her, and she saw in his eyes the recognition of her thoughts. I feel them too. Like they are waiting just around the corner for us. Like we’re seeing them in the mirror today, not ourselves. The echo of them.

They left Morgan’s studio with their hands grasped tightly together, Kenzie’s train carefully draped over Duncan’s arm as he led her down the stairs, easily supporting her petite frame as she blushed down at her feet, trying not to fall in the golden heels, trying not to fall into him the way she was longing to, dying to, remembering the way she’d pushed him into the wall in the stairwell that first night, impossibly hungry for him, the most beautiful boy I have ever fucking seen, and now, somehow, ever more beautiful, almost impossibly so. She could feel the tiny tremors under her skin, the dancing bursts of nervousness, the nerves borne of how lovely he was right now, how staggeringly beautiful to look at. We’ve fucked like crazy, we live together, and god, I still feel so fucking shy of you right now.

“Baby, are you kidding,” he whispered against her as she hovered on the stair above him, leaning his mouth up into her chin, hands falling back and forth over the golden cascade that covered her body. “You’re shy of me? I’m so fucking nervous right now--you’re so fucking beautiful and I can’t even think straight. You can’t possibly be mine. I can’t possibly deserve you. You’re a fucking angel.”

And he was pressing her against the wall of the stairwell now, ever so gently, the chilly cement of it against the bareness of her shoulders above the lame of the dress, her train still tucked into the crook of his elbow, and his mouth down at her collarbone, keeping her tethered to him, his lips drifting to her neck and below her ear, his breath whispering there, his eyelashes brushing the tiny space at the corner of her eye, tasting at her, murmuring further and further into her mind with taut insistence as his hands trembled and shivered down her arms, I can’t wait to get home so you can push that ring onto my cock, can’t wait to push that plug inside you while we stare into each other in the eyes of the Mirror that’s drifting into our dreams now, can’t wait to keep you close to me all night, anticipating the moment where we’re truly alone, can’t wait for everyone to behold you and the thrill of the secret knowledge that despite their longing you are mine alone, and that you chose me among all, that you blessed me, beloved, most fair among all, as your lover, I can’t wait to be so close to you again that we don’t know where part from each other, so close the sweat on our skin mingles on our skin flushed against each other, so close I can feel the clutch of your cunt gripping onto me, claiming me, fucking me, devouring me, can’t wait for you to fuck me, angel--and the insistence of his mouth under her hair was pushing her eyes to the metal underside of the staircase above, her mouth falling open in a gasp of absolute need that drive sharp knives of longing through her whole body.

Fuck, Duncan, I want you so much, I want you all to myself, Prince Duncan, I want your need to be the only thing you can think of, your need for me, I’m the golden gift just for you, the Pandora’s box full not of darkness, but exquisite loveliness, all for you, but you have to be patient today, Erik and the stylists are waiting for us, everyone is waiting for us tonight, waiting to see you, beautiful exalted Prince--

No, they’re waiting for YOU, my golden Persephone, it’s your golden beauty they are waiting for--his mouth was hovering over hers, not touching it, not quite, but begging to, sweetly open, aching to take hers, tilting his head, impossibly blue eyes rising and falling down the curve of her face, the gold waterfall of her dress--

“Let’s go, baby,” she gasped, gently pushing his arms away from her, gently turning from his mouth despite the soft, imploring sounds he made, his curls and the bridge of his nose brushing against her cheek. I can’t hold out when you’re touching me that way, I can’t stand it, Dunny, you have to stop, I can’t, I want you so much--

She grasped his hand as he stepped back on shaking feet, the gold of their bracelets clinking together softly, and he carefully gripped the train as she stepped ahead of him, down the last flight of stairs to the palm-lined foyer of Morgan’s studio building, and they were out in the oppressive, flushed heat of the day, but it felt good on Kenzie’s skin, it was a relief to be enveloped in the heat that was coursing through her body already. The world has been set on fire with our love, she thought, looking up at Duncan as he came through the door beside her, towards where Samuel was parked on the corner. He dipped his head to her, his mouth set to stave off his longing, and he was pushing his Yves sunglasses over his (ethereal blue like the heavens) eyes, but before he did she could see the patterned geometry of his soul there, which saw hers utterly, and wanted her, utterly, loved her, entirely. The world has turned, changed for us, become ours, and now it sees us, and it bows and encircles us in its desire, its heat is its kisses of worship on our skin, and it knows who we are. Soulmates.

---------

Samuel was looking at them with moon-bright eyes as Duncan helped Kenzie into the deeply cool interior of the car, and Kenzie smiled back at him shyly as he turned the stereo dial up--with a thrill she realized it was Jimi Hendrix, and his wild guitar crashed against her. Summer music.

Purple haze all in my brain, lately things don’t seem the same, actin’ funny but I don’t know why, ‘scuse me while I kiss the sky...

“My dear Duncan and Mackenzie,” he said, foot on the gas, “you look like you stepped down from heaven a moment ago, off a falling star.”

“I feel like I’m in heaven, Samuel,” Kenzie replied, as Duncan’s hand slipped into hers. “I can’t come down, and I don’t want to.”

“You know it’s the full moon tonight,” Duncan’s chauffeur said, slipping dark sunglasses on to shield his eyes from the sunlight that streamed through the window. “The juju that comes on nights such as these is quite special. It’s fortuitous that the Gala is on such a night--tonight will be the night the world will see the true brightness of your love.”

Kenzie puzzled for a moment over Samuel’s words--what does that mean? She looked up at Duncan, who seemed to be openly staring at her behind his dark sunglasses, his lips parted, his hand dry and warm, his thumb drifting over her palm. She lifted a finger to pull them down at the rim, exposing his eyes to her--yep, staring. Blue like the clear shore of a bright ocean.

“What does that mean?” She mouthed to him, smiling at him, her cheeks flushed. Oddly, Samuel lifted the partition after that, somehow content not to explain himself further.

Duncan shrugged, and his fingers tightened in hers. He shook his head. Baby, I don’t know. But I have a strange feeling about tonight. I had a strange feeling about yesterday, too--I know you felt that. But today doesn’t have that mean feeling like yesterday, does it? It has some other kind of feeling. It’s heavy, but it’s not a bad feeling. It’s like--a giant wheel turning. Like a huge clock tower chiming the hour. Like lifting your face to the sun after you’ve been indoors for a long time.

Yeah. Like that, she thought, nodding, her other hand drifting against his thigh, and then she spoke, in the cocoon of their privacy. “Duncan...I feel like I swallowed the sun and every bit of light is shooting from my eyes and my mouth and the tips of my hair and everyone it touches, they feel it too, they feel bright and healed. I feel like it’s my destiny to do that--touch people with the sunlight I can feel inside me.”

“You always make me feel that way. Like nothing bad can happen to me when you’re here. Like you’re the sun in the day and the moon at night, and you bring light where there would be darkness without you. Kenzie,” and he pressed his hand into her waist, his eyes fluttering at the softness of the gown, his breath gasping. “God, I want to just run away with you.”

“Away from everyone and everything to a secret place where no one can find us,” she whispered against him. Kenzie’s body felt flushed with overwhelming heat despite the coolness of the car. “Soon, baby, soon, we’ll eat fruit under the trees and swim in the lake and fuck so fucking much--” and she drifted her hand against his throat, thumb on the fullness of his lips, pulling him down against her, Duncan pulling his glasses off and dropping them unceremoniously on the car’s floor, gathering her in his arms, his mouth flushing into hers with her fingers still pressed under his jaw, tightening to hold him steady against her, and he whispered into her mouth, “baby, fuck, Kenzie--” and she could feel the rapid, frenzied drifting of his mind, the Bacchanalian chaotic need that was building in the center of him. To love you is holy madness, Mackenzie Stone. I fucking worship you. His mouth was in her hair, his fingers pulling it to his nose to breathe in the scent of her, and his expression was one of angelic beauty, an aching supplication to her, his finely chiseled features, his long straight nose, his full lips, his sharp jaw utterly divine in the purity of his love. It took her breath away to see him this way--it took her senses and rattled them apart, leaving her feeling spread like the particles of stardust in the night sky.

“Tonight,” she whispered against him, and she made herself look into his eyes, despite the shaking in her own soul, despite her fear of his beauty, because despite our closeness, my love, I still fear how lovely you are, I still fear your devotion because it shakes my fucking soul, and I fear you because your beauty seems impossible, and I see the inhuman in you, I fear the loss of you, for I’d die without you now-- “you’re gonna be aching for me all night, aren’t you, baby, you’re not gonna touch yourself at all, either, are you, baby, even though you’re gonna want to, I know,” and his tongue was pressing out onto her bottom lip, his tiny moans like sweet music in her ears, “you’re gonna want to but you aren’t going to, because only I get to touch you, only I get to take that ring off your poor aching cock, my poor baby--”

Duncan’s hands tightened at the back of her hair, twisting and forcefully pressing so her mouth crashed against his, and the need in it crushing against her heart with a possessive hand. I won’t baby, I won’t, but fuck, I want you now, how can I wait so long. His mouth was like the musky juice of some unearthly fruit. He must be what ambrosia tastes like. Like fucking sex. Like the pinnacle of all my desires. Like the highest part of my hope and the wildest release of the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had. There’s nothing like it I’ve ever felt anywhere. Him.

Kenzie’s hands were clutched to the gold-kissed lapels of his velvety jacket as they arrived at the penthouse all too soon, her fingers drifting against the intricate cages of the collar tips.

“I feel like you should be wearing a crown,” she whispered to him. Duncan’s hands were coming around to clutch hers at his throat, his mouth kissing at her fingertips.

“I keep imagining flowers in your hair,” he replied. “Flowers would be your crown, my beautiful Kenzie. So many flowers.”

Samuel was lowering the partition and Kenzie moaned against him, her heart crushed that they had so much longer to go before they’d be alone together again. It’s never enough, she thought to him. Whatever time we have alone, it’s never enough, it’s not even close to being enough.

I know baby, I know angel, I know, it’s never enough, kiss me, kiss me-- and they crushed their mouths together again, not caring that Samuel could see them now, his bright-moon gaze skirting over them then politely away, though Kenzie knew that it was difficult for him, knew he thought they were bright as stars, beautiful beyond words, though she couldn’t have said how she knew, only that Samuel’s emotion towards them in this moment was starkly bright, as if he were speaking it out loud, and then Duncan was pulling her out of the car and she felt dazed, dazed as Jerry opened the door for them, his expression one of utter amazement, until Anchaly let out a barking laugh of complete joy towards them that startled her so she clutched at Duncan’s hand, suddenly shy and apprehensive of the small man.

“And the spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters,” Anchaly said, and Kenzie saw Duncan’s puzzled look as they walked past. His eyes were glittering.

“I feel like you speak in riddles sometimes, Anchaly,” Duncan was saying as he pressed the button of the elevator. He had gathered her train up in his hand again, holding it gently over his arm, and Kenzie blushed, suddenly feeling deeply self-conscious, as if she were being led up to an opulent throne where she’d be crowned a queen of some unknown kingdom. She kept looking down to examine the dress, unconvinced it was real, its golden sheen seeping into the corners of her vision.

“Some glories require the words of someone more skilled than I,” Anchaly replied. “You two seem to render me speechless to express my astonishment without some help.”

“Is that from Proverbs, Anchaly? From the Bible?” Kenzie remembered a Moby song that had a similar name to the words Anchaly had spoken.

“Indeed. God creating the waters when he made the world.”

The elevator dinged open.

“You two seem to be creating something, too. The beauty of your love seems to be growing.”

Duncan didn’t reply--he seemed unsure of what to say. Kenzie could see the blush around his eyes.

“Anchaly, Annette’s going to be dropping something off for me soon,” Kenzie called out to him as Duncan pulled her inside. “Please call up to the penthouse when she’s here, will you?”

She saw Anchaly’s nod, the glittering quality of his eyes flashing at her again, and then Duncan was clutching her against him again in the gold interior of the elevator, his fingers achingly delicate on the gold of her dress, and she was lost inside his attentions, lost, and it was everything she could do not to grind against his thigh pressing her into the elevator’s mirror, not to stare in wonder at the loveliness of the picture they cast there, she blushed to be so struck with wonder at her own beauty, blushed to be overcome so often by the rightness of how they looked together. We really do look like royalty, like Pilar said. The moment was gone too soon as the elevator seemed to climb 30 stories in no time at all, and Duncan gently pulled away from her, grasping the train and urging her out as she giggled at him, dragging her softly to the penthouse door, through with they could already hear the voices of Erik and the stylists inside. Rather than using his keycard Duncan knocked twice, lazily, on the door, then in a moment of abandon, grabbed hold of her waist and lifted her up into his mouth again, the taste of him dizzying her wildly, the half-hardness of his crotch pressing into her stomach. Then he was hurriedly bringing her back to earth, grinning at her as the door swung open and they broke apart to Erik’s judging gaze, his mouth pursed at them in their breathless state, his expression one of hidden delight masked by facetious scandal.

“Heeeeeeaven, I’m in heaven,” he sang, fluttering his eyelashes--they were very long with pink rhinestones today. “Just look at you two. As soon as you mentioned Morgan I knew she’d do both of you justice, Mackenzie. I can already see the headlines tomorrow: ‘DUCKENZIE STUNS IN GOLD, WE ALL HAVE TO WIPE OURSELVES OFF THE FLOOR’. Duncan, I brought Hannah and Georgio today. You remember them--they did you for the App release party. They’re going to lose their shit over her.” He extended his hand, beckoning to them languidly, moving back inside the penthouse, the long black cashmere poncho he wore drifting behind him. Duncan’s warm, large hand was on the skin just above the back of the dress, and Kenzie stepped away from his touch, feeling too overwhelmed by it to let it continue for now--I want you terribly, my love. I want you alone.

In the kitchen there was an array of picturesque snacks from the always well-stocked silver fridge and cupboards spread out; round rice crackers and two bricks of artisan swiss and gouda, salami rolled around tiny toothpicks, cubed mango, sliced green apple, bunches of grapes, organic hummus and pesto, bite-sized chopped purple cauliflower and celery sticks, and multiple open bottles of wine.

“We had to get the party started the right way, of course,” Erik simpered to Duncan, and Duncan smiled at him (that smile, kiss me, baby), unbothered, then at the two people seated at the obsidian island with recognition. Kenzie suddenly felt wildly shy again, fighting the urge to hide behind him, but he was pushing bright, warm blue feelings against her, circling her heart. “Hey, Hannah.” Hannah had very long, vaguely wavy hair that was a sort of lavender-grey, the kind of color that could only be achieved by a master hairstylist, one that usually only existed in superhero comics, and chopped bangs. She was ambiguously aged, perhaps in her early 30’s, with bright pink eyeshadow and an expertly contoured, round face. She wore a very long boho bronze-red jumpsuit with curling indigo detailing, and an array of long necklaces with varying crystals. Her skin was the color of milky coffee. The man beside her had long chocolatey hair streaked with natural gray, tied back into a bun at the back of his head, sharp, dark eyes, and an beard that was so well-cropped it seemed almost fake. He had silver rings on his fingers in the shapes of animal skulls, and wore a black denim jacket and black skinny jeans on his very thin frame. He had been talking to the woman in a very quiet, even voice, but she had begun to laugh loudly at something he said. “Hi Georgio, lovely to see you both again. This is Mackenzie Stone.”

“Oh my fucking god, I can’t believe Duckenzie are finally here!” The woman called Hannah immediately stopped laughing, dropping the morsel of gouda she’d been clutching in long coral-colored fingernails. Kenzie gawked at her. God, the Duckenzie thing is a trip. The woman got up from Duncan’s island and came around to her, her hands flitting down to Kenzie’s shoulders--she was at least six inches taller, and in bare feet. She smells really nice, like patchouli incense.

“God, you’re a little jewel,” and Hannah was pulling her into a hug, much to Kenzie’s surprise. “You smell like a rose bush. It’s obscene.”

“Hannah, I fucking told you,” Erik said. “Imagine the possibilities. An absolute babydoll.”

“Georgio,” the other man came up to her, grasping her fingers, leaning over them. “A pleasure to finally meet you in person, dear.” His voice remained very quiet and very even, removed from Hannah’s immediate enthusiasm.

“I do hair, Georgio does makeup,” Hannah was saying down to her. “This dress, Jesus fucking Christ, you’re like a Klimt painting, and Duncan, god, you always look incredible but this is next-level, nobody will be able to talk about anything else tomorrow, fuck, Georgio, we have to really outdo ourselves with this one.”

“I fucking agree.” Georgio was looking between Duncan and Kenzie with a hungry glint in his eye, as though he were a vulture about to swoop down onto a carcass. Kenzie shivered a little--I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the way some people look at us when we’re together, she thought. It’s as though some people want to leave us candles and fruit and gold coins on an altar, and other people want to somehow consume us--rip out our hearts and gnaw on them with their teeth. Hannah is one of the former. This man Georgio is one of the latter. She watched his hungry, dark eyes float up and down on Duncan, and she was made conscious again, removed from her lover’s touch for the moment, of how incredibly beautiful Duncan was, how singularly, objectively handsome.

Back off honey, he’s mine. Kenzie couldn’t help it, she snorted into her hand suddenly at the force of her thought, the certainty of it, and Hannah looked down at her, puzzled.

“I was just thinking about how crazy all of this has been,” Kenzie murmured.

“I bet, honey. Your Instagrams are like the only thing anyone talks about anymore. You must have gotten like, a hundred endorsement offers by now.”

Duncan shrugged at her. “I don’t think we’ll be doing stuff like that, Hannah. Kenzie’s a writer.”

“I forgot, you’re a fucking billionaire,” Hannah rolled her eyes at him. “No pressing need to make more money.” I like this woman, Kenzie thought. We can be friends. “Little golden peach, come sit with me, I’m wild to start on you.” Hannah led Kenzie to the living room, where they’d set up two styling chairs with portable standing mirrors.

“Dunny, bring me some of those grapes, please? I’m fucking starving.” Kenzie called across to him. Duncan was watching her with a dazed expression, as if he’d forgotten where he was. Georgio continued watching him with the same hungry eyes. Duncan went to the island as Erik said something to him that Kenzie couldn’t hear--she was turning back to Hannah, who already had two flat pastel-colored styling clips in her fingers. Kenzie sat, looking up at the woman, angling her chin up.

“What do you think your hair should look like tonight, baby doll?”

Kenzie smiled at her. I really like her.

“Sometimes he calls me Persephone,” she said to Hannah in a low voice, as if she were telling the gray-haired woman a secret. Hannah was leaning down to her, listening eagerly. The woman seemed to have an almost rosy aura around her, like the pink blush of a desert sunrise.

“Goddess of spring,” Hannah nodded. “Which would make him Hades, God of the Underworld. That seems right to me. And you brought your flowers down to him in the darkness, didn’t you, sweetness.” Hannah’s hand brushed through the wave of hair that fell over Kenzie’s shoulder. “I think we should put flowers in your hair. And then everyone will see who you really are. Not just your gold, but the way love is blooming all around you.”

Duncan was coming over to them with a bunch of grapes and some of the cheese and round crackers on a little plate and one of his Waterford glasses full of a dry rose, leaning the plate down to Kenzie’s lap, dipping his face to kiss her (thanks baby, she whispered into his mind) as he handed her the wine, then he straightened and said “I’m putting on some music for us, any requests?”

“Something sexy,” Erik said, holding up his wine glass, full of dark red. “I need some mood music to look at you two.”

Duncan smirked at him and turned away, into his study.

“Hannah, have you seen The Youth of Bacchus?” Kenzie spoke to the woman from a mouth of grapes. “It’s in Duncan’s study there, it’s so amazing, it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. I just wanted to die the first time I saw it.”

“I saw it the last time I was here, we styled Duncan for an event a few months ago,” Hannah had already busily begun to slide clips into Kenzie’s long tawny hair, clearly used to working around people eating. “It’s really extraordinary. I can’t imagine how crazy everything has been for you lately, honey.”

“It’s--” Hannah was dividing her hair into segments now with a thin comb, turning to a set of portable drawers near the standing mirror. “It’s been so surreal, honestly. It feels like I’ve been walking around in a dream for the past few weeks. But most people have been so lovely.”

“I bet Annette’s a fucking handful.” Kenzie heard a funky electronic beat come over the hidden speakers as Hannah’s quick hands worked at her hair, spraying primer through it, brushing it out. I ain’t got no money, I’m not like those other guys you hang around, it’s kinda funny, but they always seem to let you down…

“Yes.” Kenzie didn’t even try to hide her frustration. “Yes, she fucking is.”

Hannah snorted, grinning at her as Duncan reemerged from the study.

“Yes, honey, yes indeed,” Erik was saying to him as Duncan sat in the other styling chair beside Kenzie, Georgio immediately attacking his stubbled cheeks with moisturizer, then primer. “Prince’s self-titled is his most underrated creation, I do believe. Pure sex from beginning to end.”

“Erik, I hope this isn’t too great for a favor for someone as important as you, but could you bring me the wine glass I left over there?” Duncan glanced up at Erik with a long, languid gaze, and Kenzie giggled. Laying it on thick, baby. I like to watch you do that, she realized. Because I know you’re always mine now, and all they can do is pine after you.

Erik gave him a pleased look and brought the wine to him. “Anything for Prince Duncan,” he cooed. I feel the same way, and Kenzie’s thought flashed to his eyes staring at her in the MIrror as he fucked her, her arms tied in velvet ribbon, flashed to his mouth between her legs with her arms tied to the headboard with his belt, to her back against the cherrywood table as he kneeled to her, her body arching into his elegant, strong fingers in the dark, the white-blue glow of his eyes. Anything for you, beloved. Anything.

“I’m gonna need fresh rosebuds for Kenzie’s hair, Duncan,” Hannah said, glancing at him.

Duncan made a little sound of longing in the back of his throat that made Kenzie’s stomach flip. Oh my fucking god, baby, I’ll get you roses to wear in your hair every day. And your peonies are starting to wilt, too. Kenzie glanced at the coffee table, noticing with a twinge of sadness that he was right. Prince wailed over their heads as Duncan pulled his phone out of his back pocket and sent a few quick text messages to Anchaly for the concierge. “Hannah, what do you need?” I wanna be your lover, I wanna be the only one that makes you come, running...Georgio’s hand was on his cheek as though it were made of delicate glass, holding Duncan’s head steady as he worked around his blue eyes with a tiny eyeshadow brush.

Hannah reached for his phone with an insistent hand and typed out a text, handing it back to him. “As young as they have would be best. And the darkest red. Fit for a queen.”

“Roses for Kenzie’s hair, roses for Kenzie, check.” Duncan glanced over at her, his eyes (the sky of you, the storm of you building for me) falling from hers down her gown, then back up. His tongue slowly came out to lick against his top lip, and the gesture seemed to be involuntary, so open to her, so desirous of her, as he sometimes was in the sanctity of their bed. Our bed, our room, my favorite place on earth now when you’re there, she could hear him, knew his thoughts drifted into the same place hers did, needy with the weight of their nights.

“Georgio, did you hear what Mackenzie told me a minute ago? Duncan calls her Persephone sometimes. Hence the roses.”

“Way ahead of you, Hannah,” Georgio said, then, “Close your eyes, please, Duncan,” and Kenzie watched him swirl the brush in a palette behind him, then begin to darken Duncan’s eyelids to deep black. My Hades. Gold in the darkness. It’s not just me, baby. It’s us together. My gold kisses your darkness, your darkness holds my gold. One without the other is not enough. One without the other is not whole.

“God, I love it,” Hannah was murmuring as she began to whirl Kenzie’s hair around a ceramic curling iron, from its soft natural waves into more carefully constructed ones. She began to switch between curling strands of Kenzie’s chestnut-blonde hair and weaving a very loose french braid down Kenzie’s back, until her hair seemed to be a very intricate web of falling braids and artfully arranged loose waves, though Kenzie couldn’t see it from the back yet. Duncan’s already luminously handsome face was now darkly striking in the shadow around his eyes, the gold of the jacket juxtaposing with the black and the blue of his corneas to an effect that took Kenzie’s breath away. God of riches, shadows, and my heart.

“God, baby, you look so good. So fucking good.”

“I agree,” Hannah was grinning between them, still fussing over Kenzie’s hair. At the back she’d created a slight bump and long waves fell around Kenzie’s face. The doorbell chimed through the penthouse and Erik went to the door from where he’d been lazily eating apple slices and downing glass after glass of wine. A delivery man stood there with a long white box--Erik took it from him and brought it over to the low leather couch, lifting the lid. Within were a dozen sprigs of burgundy-dark rose buds, and a bouquet of a two-dozen full-stem roses in the same color.

“Oh sugar, I wish a billionaire who looks like an angel would buy me flowers every day,” Erik said longingly.

“Gimme, please,” Kenzie begged, reaching her arms out. Erik brought them to her from where Hannah was holding her captive, and Kenzie lifted the bouquet to her face in their softness, feeling tears welling up. “Dunny, I love them so much.” Duncan was smiling at her with a dreamy expression around his darkly shadowed eyes. We’ll take them with us to the cabin. We’ll put them beside our bed. I love you, Kenzie.

I love you, too, Duncan. I’ll save so many wildflowers while we’re there to hang over our bed here. We’ll bring the roses with us, and bring the forest back with us, Kenzie’s eyes rested in his, her hand stretching out to him, almost involuntarily. Duncan stood and came to her, Georgio having finished his work, leaning against the standing mirror, observing with a sharp, dark gaze. Duncn crouched down beside her chair, bringing his face up to press his nose into the roses she held, then up to her cheek and against her lips, and Kenzie’s body tingled with the softness and sweetness of him, the darkly beautiful dramatic cast of his face in the eyeshadow. He drew back from her, eyes lifting up to the others behind her--neither of them had realized for the beat of the moments that Erik, Hannah and Georgio were all staring at the two of them with observant, rapt expressions, Hannah’s almost pious, Erik’s joyous, Georgio’s openly desirous. The first side of Prince had ended, and the quiet had settled around them.

“God, you two are lovely,” Hannah breathed, breaking the spell. “I could watch you all day. I’ve never seen a couple so beautiful. It’s like you’re communicating without words.”

At that moment the downstairs buzzer beside the penthouse door trilled, making Kenzie jump. We are, Hannah. But no one knows that but us. And we want to keep it that way. It belongs to us. Duncan stepped away from Kenzie, clutching her hand for a moment. I bet that’s Annette, Kenzie thought, biting into her lip. Annette’s text had been strange, a frantic tone underneath her overly-polite request to see Kenzie. Please accept this gift as a token of my blessing, she’d said, and Kenzie had known Annette distress was coming solely from Duncan’s silence to her, but nevertheless, the prospect of actually gaining Annette’s approval by any means was tempting, especially since she’d softened to Kenzie at the Rose Garden. Duncan went to the door, hitting a button below the panel and speaking into it.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Shepherd, Annette is here.”

Duncan looked over at Kenzie, a pained expression immediately falling over his face. Baby, it’s okay, Kenzie thought to him. I’ll go downstairs. I won’t take long. I’m not afraid of her.

“Anchaly, Kenzie’s coming down,” he said, turning back to the speaker. “Do not send up her up.”

“Very well, Mr. Shepherd.” Anchaly’s voice sounded strained.

Kenzie rose, carefully tucking the cascade of the gold train over her arm, setting the roses in her seat gently. “Hannah, Georgio, I won’t be long, this should only take a few minutes.” Be brave, for him, even if you don’t feel it, because Duncan needs you to be. She walked carefully past Erik, who was giving her a dark look, a don’t let her fuck with you look, to Duncan, whose eyes were clouded behind the dark eyeshadow, suddenly lost inside the turmoil of his emotions.

“Baby, look at me,” she whispered to him, reaching for his hands. As she grasped them Kenzie could feel that he was shaking; feel the immediate change in his mood, the dark shadow that had settled on him, the one that had made him cry in her arms yesterday, the one that had sent his sadness out to her over miles. “We’re going to get through tonight, then we’re going to go away together, just me and you. Okay? And you won’t have to see her, okay? Not until you’re ready. Forget about everyone else.” And Kenzie, in that moment, resolved to do the same herself. Forget about them. About the paps, about Annette’s judgement, about the eyes watching us now, and anyone else who will try to hurt us tonight. When I have you, I’m fearless, invincible, you are my armor of blue flames, I am your armor of weightless gold. And they can’t hurt us.

Duncan brought his mouth down to her, and his lips trembled too, though with the tumult of his emotions or his desire she couldn’t decipher, so jumbled were the two strains of feeling in him. Kenzie gently brought her hand up to his hair and his arms came around her back, lifting her into him, and Kenzie couldn’t help but hear the sighs that came from Erik and Hannah behind her, the sighs that sounded to her like the wings of angels rustling in some holy silent hall, and she soothed him with paper-thin gold, feeling his heart settling down to a steadier rhythm, feeling the trembling in him drift out, into the ether.

“I’ll be right back,” she whispered, and let go of him, staring at him for another moment, seeing the way her energy had calmed him, his eyes bright again amid the gold-and-dark sheen of his shape, and Kenzie snapped the door open and walked, determined, to the elevator.

-------

Annette was standing in the foyer when Kenzie arrived downstairs, her expression strained and softly troubled, the usual anger in her eyes towards Kenzie missing. She was nervously fidgeting with something in her hands--a squarish, flat velvet box.

As Kenzie’s eyes drifted over Duncan’s mother, she was struck by the other woman yet again: Annette’s coppery-dark hair was pulled back in an elegantly distressed bun, a few strands arranged artfully around her slender cheekbones, her naturally beautiful face made more exquisite with soft makeup tones, a roseate sheen on her cheeks and mouth, a pale olive around her eyes, reminding Kenzie of the blossoms and vines of some pink flower in bloom, of a cheek pressed against a garden wall. Annette’s dress was flowing saffron-colored satin, falling to the ground and shrouding her feet, long sleeves to her wrists (she was wearing one ring, a gold band on her left index finger with a round, yellow-colored topaz stone), a deep V exposing the dip between her small breasts, a string of tiny, perfectly-shaped (and likely priceless) iridescent pearls around her slender throat. As Kenzie stepped closer she could see there were small golden flowers falling throughout the dress, like bursts of pollen reflected in a sunrise. Annette turned her head down for a moment, her eyes closing, and Kenzie noticed there were pearls stranded through her hair as well. She is so beautiful. This woman who adopted Duncan so many years ago. Where did she find him? Who did she claim him from? Who is this woman really, this woman who has kept the truth of him from him for his entire life? I can see her loveliness that has been hidden beneath her shadow, like I could see his right away. It took longer to see hers. But I’ve begun to see it. But her shadow is strong. It’s consumed her for many years.

Anchaly had, somehow, blessedly, vacated the front desk, and Jerry was standing outside the glass doors in the balmy summer night, smoking a cigarette, staring down at his phone. There was no one else in the foyer, and no sound except soft classical music pumping from the speakers, the gold-embossed chairs and couch, lush persian rugs and expensive potted plants their only company.

“Annette,” Kenzie said, reaching her, remaining a few steps away. Annette was looking at her with a pained expression now--an expression Kenzie had never seen. Now that she was closer, she could see there were lines under Annette’s eyes, of tiredness and distress. I don’t think she slept at all last night, Kenzie realized. Because of Duncan. Because she knows how devastated he is.

“Oh, Mackenzie.” Kenzie’s nerves shattered as she saw the tears in Annette’s eyes, saw the girl within Duncan’s mother again, and was moved by her. “You...you are so lovely. I--I’m--”

Annette trailed off, raising the box in her hands out to Kenzie. She seemed to steel something within herself for a moment, force her tears back, force them back into the secret place where Annette Shepherd had been storing pain for decades, and her eyes fluttered closed again, then opened to Kenzie’s--Kenzie felt for a moment that she could almost see her own eyes reflected there, see the green and russet and the gold of herself, see how Annette could see her in this moment. Like an effigy of the Holy Mother, Annette was thinking, and it shook Kenzie to the core of her body to know that. But before she was a mother--when she was young and wild, and free, and the most beloved of all in the eyes of God. There is no wonder that he loves her. My Duncan. My darling boy. I’m sorry.

“I found this a few days ago while I was going through some of the remainders of Adelaide’s--my mother’s--possessions,” and Annette now used the voice of her outward self again, even, carefully measured. “I knew when I saw it that it was meant to be yours. I’d be--I’d--if you would accept it, Mackenzie...I’d be grateful.” Annette closed her mouth, as if by the action she could close off the tide of her emotions rising again with it. Kenzie stepped closer, watching Annette’s eyes rove up and down the exquisite gold of her dress, into her eyes, skirting away. She reached her hands out and Duncan’s mother (for she is Duncan’s mother after all--she loves him with her life, and she didn’t tell him because she couldn’t bear the thought that he isn’t hers, because she loves him as strongly as if he is--her love is true and blinding for him) lowered the box carefully into them, and their hands touched, and Kenzie looked up at her again, then opened it.

Within was a circlet band of braided gold, its strands leading down to a matte red ruby surrounded by an oval of almost two dozen tiny, perfect diamonds. On either side of the oval were three gold leaves, each set with two diamonds each. I can’t imagine how much this is worth, Kenzie thought, her breath trapped in her lungs. This must be priceless.

“I--I can’t--” Kenzie struggled to speak. How can I accept this?

“Please, Mackenzie. I’ve been--I know I’ve been--” Annette seemed to be losing the strands of her composure, her hands fidgeting in front of her, clutching at the pearls around her neck. “I know I’ve been terrible to you. I have no right to ask you for anything. But please, Duncan--Duncan won’t speak to me, and I--”

Be the golden goddess Duncan sees in you, Kenzie. Be fearless and kind.

“He needs time.”

Kenzie evened her gaze on Annette; lowered the necklace in its velvet box in her hands, but brought it closer to her body, accepting. She lifted her chin.

“He’s very hurt. Keeping the truth from him for so long--it’s wounded him deeply. And I don’t know how long he’s going to need. But I know he needs time.” Kenzie watched Annette’s face, the subtle shift of the pain there. “After tonight, we’re going away for awhile--maybe a few days, maybe a week. And when we get back, I think he’ll be ready to talk to you. But until then, I don’t think he wants to. I don’t think he can. Annette, I will accept this from you...if you can accept that.”

Annette’s lip trembled, almost imperceptibly, and she seemed on the edge of tears again. She dipped her head, eyes closing again, the lengthening afternoon light spilling across her face--despite everything, Kenzie thought, I love her still.

“Please tell him I’m--how sorry I am. And that I love him. More than anything. More than my own life. And I--I love you also, Mackenzie. I do. I’m sorry to you, too.”

Annette reached out one shaking hand, pressing it gently to the side of Kenzie’s arm, her other hand coming up to hover near Kenzie’s cheek--but that hand continue to hover rather than touch, as if afraid. Then Annette turned without another word, and left the foyer. Jerry held the door out for her, and Kenzie could see a Mercedes parked on the curb, the tall, imposing form of Becket coming out to open the door of the car for her, and Annette slipped inside, and the car drove away.

I guess it’s a good thing Georgio didn’t do my makeup yet, Kenzie thought. Tears, hot and aching and bitter, coursed down her cheeks as she stepped toward the elevator, and they continued to fall all the way back up to the penthouse, the velvet box clutched in her trembling fingers.

------

She immediately saw the pall that fell over Duncan’s face as she came back into the penthouse--strains of Beethoven played quietly now, Duncan’s cheerful mood clearly affected by Annette’s arrival. He knew she’d been crying. He was sitting in the styling chair again, Hannah pressing product through his waves of dark-copper hair, and he launched himself from her fingers as Kenzie closed the door with one hand, the box clutched in the other, running up to her, clutching her against him. Kenzie closed her eyes, immediately soothed in the enveloping weight of his embrace--there’s nothing else on earth as wonderful as this, baby, as wonderful as being held by you. This is the only thing.

“Baby, what happened? What did she do?” Duncan pulled her away, turning her chin up to him, his hand drifting back to cradle around her ear, his eyes full of clouded anger at Annette’s perceived ills.

“She just--she’s sorry. She loves you. She wants to talk to you. I told her we’re going away for a few days. I told her you’re not ready to talk to her yet but--but maybe you will be when we get back. And she gave me this.” Kenzie felt more tears fall down her cheeks as she lifted the box up to him. Duncan took it with fingers that were shaking again--his eyes roved over the necklace with recognition as he opened the box.

“This was Adelaide’s, wasn’t it,” he whispered. “I remember it. I would touch it when she pulled me into her lap when I was little. I wanted to eat the ruby, you know--how you want to eat everything when you’re little--” and Kenzie knew the steady stream of words was to keep himself from crying, from becoming overwhelmed.

“Shhhh, baby,” she soothed. “Will you help me put it on?”

Duncan quieted and nodded to her, his eyes glittering (like sapphire). He lifted the necklace from the velvet box, setting the latter aside on the island, and Kenzie turned, lifting her chin so he could clasp it around her neck--his fingers were warm, almost hot, and her eyes fluttered open and closed at the feeling of them brushing against her (your touch is heaven to me, heaven) and then he gripped at her shoulders, his mouth coming down to kiss her ear, turning her easily, her weight nothing in his arms, and his gaze fell over her neck and his lips drifted open, his eyes opening and closing (nebulas), and Kenzie could see a kind of peace fall over him, as if she and Adelaide were somehow able to meet now, after all.

“It’s perfect,” he whispered, and she nodded, her chin turned up to him. “Adelaide would have loved for you to have it.”

Kenzie felt desperate to be close to him, desperate for him to hold her, suddenly, in a dark place where no eyes could reach them, where they could be naked and taste each other with abandon, with only the moon to see. My One. I want to comfort you in the privacy of our room so very much. She pulled his face down to hers carefully, pressing her forehead to his, and pushed golden waves down into him, pushed with all her strength, all her love, all her longing, and she felt his body relax against hers, like a sigh, though he was silent. She closed her eyes, knowing his were closed too, knowing they could see each other without needing to look--she could see the blue waves of him melting behind the darkness of her lids, could see the iridescent gold she had given him. All good things come in time. We just have to get through tonight. Then we’ll be able to comfort each other, my love. Comfort each other for days. He nodded against her skin, and Kenzie knew he heard.

They broke apart, and she looked over to Hannah, Erik and Georgio, watching her and Duncan with mouths agape again, not speaking to each other. She made eye contact with Erik, who drank off the rest of the wine in his glass, giving her a good-natured eyeroll.

“You two make me wanna get drunk,” he said, waving a hand toward them. “I’m raging with jealousy and arousal.” Kenzie noticed someone had put her roses in another of Duncan’s gold vases in the center of the kitchen island, and she looked at them gratefully.

“Mackenzie, come sit, we have a lot to do still,” Hannah said, tapping the styling chair, and Kenzie glanced back at Duncan (baby, come sit with me, please?) and he nodded to her, going back to the kitchen island and pouring himself another glass of wine as Kenzie sat before Hannah and Georgio, who both attacked her with new gusto--Hannah began to rapidly pin the rosebuds through the back of her hair, while Georgio began to rub different substances into her face with cool hands, his eyes intent on her, making her immediately shy.

“Where did you two meet, anyway?” Hannah asked, using a slender, long pair of blunt tweezers to pull the buds into the braids and strands she’d created at the back of Kenzie’s head.

Kenzie was quiet for a moment, glancing at Duncan who was bringing another glass of wine around to her, nestling it gently into her hand.

“It was a Republican party for PAC donors.”

He gave Kenzie a mischievous smirk, then settled into the chair beside her, but not before dragging it closer to her, veering around Georgio and Hannah with abandon, dipping his long legs under her gold platform heels and propping her feet up under him, his hand coming around to her knee. Kenzie knew he was craving her touch desperately--she could feel the need coming off him toward her, the ache in him for the comfort only her touch brought him (only you, his thoughts were whirling in circles, just you, your hands, your skin, you, I need you and they’ll have to deal with it) and she wanted to press her hand against his throat and taste him with her eager mouth, straddle him and tease him until he was begging for her, and she pressed her hand down onto his, sending the tendrils of these thoughts to him as he spoke again to Hannah, glancing at her with burning eyes.

“She was undercover, recording tidbits of juicy conversation for her article--of course, I didn’t know that until later. Not that I think it would have mattered to me. I was wishing I was literally anywhere else, out on the balcony, hiding from everyone, and she appeared. I thought I’d been knocked into a dream. She was wearing this tiny black velvet dress and these golden sandals that tied up her ankle, and had this necklace, and her hair--”

“Ugh, Duncan, stop--”

“Duncan, do not stop,” Hannah grinned at her, soothing her hands against Kenzie’s temples to hold her head still as Kenzie jerked it towards Duncan, then resumed rapidly dipping the tweezers through the back of her hair. Kenzie could see her face through the mirror, how Georgio was applying dark russet liner to her brows, and a heavy black eyeliner to her upper lids, giving her gaze a high drama.

“Hannah, I would have done literally anything to get her to go home with me. I mean--fucking anything.”

“And all you had to do was buy me a drink. I’m a cheap date,” Kenzie smiled up at Hannah, who laughed a little.

“I can imagine it didn’t take much convincing for either of you,” she said, stepping back from Kenzie’s hair to examine her handiwork. “You’re both--well. At the risk of embarrassing myself by using an antiquated standard, separately, you’re both 10s. Together? Fuck. The scale is fucking broken. Most people would claw each other’s eyes out if it meant they got to stand in your orbit, and I’m not one for flattery. Miss Mackenzie Stone, I do believe you’re ready for the Gala.”

Georgio had stepped back at well, in his silent, appraising way, a round brush still in his hand from applying light, rosy matte blush to Kenzie’s cheeks. He’d made her lips dark red, not quite as burgundy as the roses in her hair, but a deep claret that made her mouth look like a ripe fruit. Kenzie couldn’t stop herself; her breath caught as she gazed at herself, the dramatic angle the light threw on her face, the ruby and diamonds glittering right in the dip of her throat, the gold shimmer of her dress wrapped around her like a second skin.

“Turn around, baby, look,” Duncan urged her, his hand softly drifting against hers, Hannah bringing a little handheld mirror down into her hands to see the back of her hair, which was now a breathtaking array of dancing burgundy red buds, falling in a drifting, wild cascade from the artful arrangement Hannah had created.

“God, you really do look like a painting,” Hannah breathed and Erik was standing back in a pose of admiration, another glass of wine dangling at the end of one arm. He laughed in delight.

“Forget everyone else, darlings, I’ll be following you two around all night.”

Duncan groaned. “Please, no. I want her all to myself.” His hand was drifting up from her thigh to where she had turned towards the study to see her back in the mirror, his fingers falling against the buds, and his thoughts were dark red too, dark red with need for her, and Kenzie could feel the fall of them, almost see herself in his gaze for a moment, feel the pulse of his arousal, the memory in him of the feeling of her clit on his tongue, the ache in him to taste her again, his body shivering to remember the sensitive cavity between her legs, the tightness of her ass--Kenzie tried to swallow, tried to breathe, felt her heart pounding insanely at his touch and the intensity of his need against her in this moment, turning from the mirror to look into his burning gaze, and Hannah and Georgio seemed to somehow sense that their time together was ending; Georgio was gathering his makeup with clipped order, Hannah wrapping the curling iron up, tossing pins into the drawers. Erik was languidly pressing a finger to his phone, calling a private Uber.

“I want you so much,” Duncan had dipped his head to her, his mouth shivering against her ear, kissing down under it as he quieted, as if he deigned to think it rather than speak it aloud, as if he wanted to speak it, needed to, had to or he’d scream instead, and his hands were at her waist, feeling with insistent strength, damning the others, ignoring them. Kenzie’s skin tingled with flushed, radiant heat, her thoughts hazy, suddenly, the cool gold of the necklace pressing into her throat and making her cunt twinge, Duncan’s drifting hands making it twinge again, making her breath catch and burst out in a gasp. Make them go away, baby, she thought, and said aloud to Hannah and Georgio, turning away from him, “Thank you so much--both of you--I can’t say how wonderful--”

“Miss Mackenzie Stone, it was my honor,” Hannah said, her smile lit with warmth that shattered into Kenzie’s heart like an arrow. This woman has a beautiful soul. It gave her as much joy to do this for us as I have now to see the masterpiece she’s created for me. “Hoo boy. I think I’m a Duckenzie now too. Better sign up on that website. Did you two see that? Duckenzie Fans, or whatever it’s called?”

Duncan was laughing, nodding a little, dipping his chin down against the palm of his hand, crooked on his knee, his other hand still on Kenzie’s thigh. “Yeah. It’s something. We met the girls who run it, they can’t be out of high school yet. Kenzie was so lovely to them, it was all over the tabloids. She’s so lovely to people. Makes it easy for me to just stand there and say nothing.”

He was smiling at Kenzie again, his hand drifting, his fingers tightening on her, his thoughts clashing through her like the warm rain that had soaked them a few days ago--I wanna be alone with you now baby love, goddess from heaven, I wanna press that plug into you and whisper into your skin all the things I’m going to do to you later, I want you to force that ring onto me and fuck I’m already getting hard for you, my cock is already aching for you, angel--

Georgio was giving them a glittering look again, that wanton desire still blatant.

“If you two ever wanna think outside the box, I have this group I meet with sometimes in Prince William Forest,” he said evenly.

What the fuck does that mean, Kenzie balked. Like an orgy?

Yes, Kenz, that’s what he means. Duncan had half-rolled his eyes at Georgio’s statement, his thumb drifting soothingly over Kenzie’s knuckles.

“I don’t think so, Georgio, thank you.”

“Suit yourselves. You’d certainly be the center of attention.”

“No, thanks, Georgio.”

Erik was pressing a hand into Georgio’s black-clad back, smiling down at him serenely, batting his eyelashes, ushering the thin man towards the door. Hannah dipped down to Kenzie and hugged her around the neck, gently, careful not to muss the flowers in her hair.

“You look so fucking beautiful,” she whispered into Kenzie’s ear. “I hope to see you again sometime, Miss Stone.”

“Call me Kenzie, please?”

“Kenzie. It was an absolute delight. I can’t wait to see your photos literally everywhere tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Hannah,” Kenzie grasped the gray-haired woman’s hand and steadied her mind, whisking her psyche away from Duncan--and pressed gold tendrils down into Hannah, morsels of light, drifts of her good will. She watched a serene, doleful expression come into Hannah’s brown eyes, then she let go, and Hannah drifted away from her, still staring at her for a long moment. Erik was pushing Georgio out the door, and called out behind him, “I’ll see you in an hour or so, darlings, I can’t wait to meet the infamous Madeline Stone!” Hannah hesitated for the span of a few seconds, she and Kenzie still staring at each other across the room, pulling her portable drawers behind her on the little wheels attached to the bottom.

Hannah, bright blessings to you. Today, and for the days to come, for you.

Kenzie watched the other woman’s face, watched what seemed to be the glitter of a tear on her cheek--then Hannah waved a little to both of them, and pulled the big black door to the penthouse shut as she left.

Suddenly, the penthouse was quiet, and it was only the two of them. The light had begun to fade--it was almost 7 now, and night was beginning to fall. Kenzie glanced over at the Bouguereau prints on the wall, feeling Duncan’s eyes on her, feeling the blue of his thoughts kissing against her mind. The evening mood, she thought, and turned to him again.

Yes, my Kenzie. The evening mood is here. Come to the bedroom with me. He was standing, gently twining his fingers into hers, grasping onto her train and bringing it over his arm with supine grace, the melted gold of his jacket glowing in the twilight that had suddenly surrounded them. The energy inside her was humming now, building to a kind of frenzied rhythm, and Kenzie could see the full moon beginning to rise as they passed the picture window, see its corn-yellow face from last night had not faded, rather sharpened into a bewitching visage, like a sleeping maiden in a field of night-lit grasses.

“I feel like a princess,” she whispered to him as they entered the bedroom, and Duncan was closing the door behind them, closing it to the world--and then he was pressing against her, pressing her into their Mirror with an aching softness that made her mind leap into a static of feeling, thoughts bleeding out into nothing but his mouth on hers, nothing but his hands on the gold braid at her neck, then his fingers along her collarbones, then clutching at her shoulders, the smooth gold cups at her breasts.

“You are a princess,” he was whispering between their kisses, and Kenzie fought to breathe, “you’re my fucking Princess, you’re my fucking Goddess, you’re mine, aren’t you, my angel on earth, you’ll give yourself to me, baby, won’t you--”

“Fuck, yes, you know I will, baby,” she moaned into him, the tips of his hot fingers refusing to press more harshly into her, his blue gaze heavy-lidded, looking down on her from the dark shadow around them now, waiting teasingly for her answer. “Fuck, get my plug for me, please, baby--”

“Shhh, Kenzie, go get your coconut oil, okay?”

“Uh huh,” she murmured, and turned away from him, the tiny hairs on her arms standing up, flush with goosebumps. Kenzie pressed a hand between her breasts as she stepped carefully to the bathroom, serenely quiet and spotlessly clean, feeling her heart racing--she could see her jar of coconut oil on the edge of the sink, and took it with trembling hands. She tried to imagine telling Kenzie from a year ago about this night--you’ll be going to a Gala attended by the richest people in DC, and you’ll look like an angel, and your boyfriend is Duncan Shepherd, and he’s going to push your plug into your ass beforehand and you’re going to make him wear a cock ring and you’re going to edge each other to death all night and then, hopefully, you’re going to fuck each other into tomorrow morning, Kenzie, and you can hear each other’s thoughts, see the depth of his love for you like the swirling center of a fire--

Kenzie swallowed, stared at herself in the darkened mirror of the bathroom for a moment, almost not recognizing herself for a moment--I really do look like a goddess, she thought. I really fucking do. Be that fearless goddess tonight, Kenzie Lou. Just pretend she is you. For tonight, you are her. You’re a goddess.

Kenzie brought the oil out in hands she willed not to shake, and Duncan was standing by the Mirror, looking at himself curiously, appraisingly, the ring clutched in one hand, her plug in the other. He turned to her, and his smile melted her heart into sweet butter.

“Me first,” she whispered. “I want you to do me first, baby.”

Duncan’s eyes darkened (your storm, my sweet god of shadows) and beckoned to her with one elegantly crooked finger.

“Come here, angel.” Whatever Hannah had done to his hair, she’d made it so his beautiful curls were now even more striking than usual, the fall of them seeming impossible to her eyes in this light, their loveliness ethereal, and she saw him as inhuman again for a moment as she fell into his arms--saw him as as a god made of stars and ink-dark sky. You are the god to my goddess tonight, aren’t you, and their mouths came together in another aching kiss, his tongue brushing down into her, and then he was turning her to face the Mirror, turning her so his stomach pressed insistently into her back. He pressed the cock ring into her fingers, taking the oil away, and she gripped its smooth silicone surface, her heart bursting. Give me all your need, baby, make me feel it, remind me that I belong to you. He opened the oil, dipping his fingers into it, eyes focused on her--Kenzie could see her mouth hung open, her breath coming out in ragged bursts, her face glowing with the lovely makeup--I am going to be so gentle with you, baby, but you won’t get to come yet and no one will know your ache for me, no one will know your secret tonight but me, his eyes said, and then he was dipping the plug into it too, and Kenzie’s cunt and ass twinged sharply, and she sucked her breath in, unable to stop the whimper of the moan that fell out of her. But you’ll be thinking of it all night, as I’ll be thinking of my ache for you.

“Please,” she said, and pressed her hands against the Mirror, leaning just a little, ever so little, to give herself to him. Duncan leaned to set the oil on the dark wood--then, he carefully pressed the hem of Kenzie’s golden dress up with a twisting motion, so it fell up and over her hips, exposing the black lace of the panties she wore underneath the opulent gown. Kenzie could feel the damp, cool pressure of his finger tips at the line of her panties now, and with another quick motion Duncan pulled them down so they hovered around her thighs above her knees--he leaned down over her so his face came up beside her ear, and Kenzie cried out to him as she felt his fingers dip into her ass, first his index, then his middle finger beside it, stretching her.

“Kenzie, babydoll,” he whispered into her ear, and Kenzie leaned back, her mind needy, into his fingers, longing for him to press against her clit, knowing with anguished disappointment that he wouldn’t, not yet, not now. “My sweet baby, my angel of roses. Mine. You can’t take this out until I say you can. Promise me you won’t.”

Kenzie felt his fingers leave her and she was desperate for the loss--”Unng, baby, please, I won’t, I promise I won’t--” she whined, biting into her lip, unafraid in this moment with him, unafraid to show him the desperation of her want for him. “Please put it inside me.”

She sighed with relief as his hand came around her throat, gripping so his fingers pressed possessive divots into her skin, then a long, keening cry melted out of her and his fingers tightened at her neck as she felt the plug’s bulbous head, slick with oil, rest for a long, terrible second against the pucker of her ass, then slide with aching pressure and his strong insistence inside her, guided by his pliant fingers. His hand lingered, fingers pressing around the dip of her ass below where the plug was now snugly tethered, as if to ensure that it was tightly in place, and Kenzie was gasping, gasping at the terrible twinging need of her cunt, the throbbing of her clit, aching to be touched by him there, aching for him alone to give her release, her hands still pressed into the Mirror, his dark-shadowed eyes piercing her with their expectant lust. O Hades, my Hades, kiss me, then let me cage you, and in your cage, think only of me, your Queen of Roses, caged for you by your hand.

“My turn, baby,” he whispered, and crouched down to pull her panties back up snugly to her waist, his fingers drifting over her hips, cupping her ass cheeks, then carefully pulling her golden gown back over her legs, using the hand that hadn’t probed into her--he’s so careful, Kenzie thought, I know how much you want me in this moment, and yet still you’re so careful, so neat, afraid to ruin my gown, my Prince. As Kenzie shifted she could feel the twinge of the plug’s weight against the sensitive cavity of her ass, and she felt her knees buckle for a moment, her thighs tingling, her neck longing for the press of his hand again. Want it there always, my Prince, my sweet Hades, your scent like the wild wood of night. She pulled him down to her mouth, laving her tongue out into him, and Duncan moaned with piteous need, and Kenzie felt the long tendriled gold of her need reach out for him in turn, demanding.

“Put your hands at your sides, baby. You’re not allowed to move them.”

Duncan immediately did as she said, his eyes smoldering in the darkening bedroom, his mouth open to her, his thoughts afire with her. God, baby, I am fucking dying for you, you’re so fucking beautiful, not touching you is like torture, I’m yours, I beg you, please, touch me, baby.

You are truly the most beautiful boy I have ever seen, Kenzie thought. And you are fucking mine. You’re mine, baby. Your beautiful cock belongs to me.

“I know this is going to make you ache terribly tonight,” Kenzie said, evening her tone just above a whisper. “But you have to be good. You can’t touch yourself, you can’t take it off.” She knelt very slowly in the opulent gown, her back to the Mirror now, dipping her head so he could see the way she was prostrate for him, her head looking up at him, the cascade of her rosebud-brindled hair arrayed for him in its loveliness. Duncan closed his eyes, and she felt how overcome he was, how lost in the sight of her, and it thrilled her--that’s fucking right, Prince Duncan, your Persephone kneels before you now, and you will promise her you will allay your pleasure until she has need of it, and Kenzie could see the dip of his crotch had grown in the low light--she lifted her hands up and undid the button at his groin carefully, unzipping his pants, pulling down the waistband of his body-tight briefs to bring one of her slender hands against the bottom of the shaft of his growing cock, pulling it out decisively, and Duncan’s breath hitched, his head falling back, his adam’s apple bobbing in the light, making Kenzie want to pull him down to her so she could press her mouth against him there. She focused, instead, on his thick length, the veins of his sex suddenly beautiful to her, the head of his cock a roundness that she longed to dip into her mouth, a sliding droplet of precum glittering there. Instead, Kenzie lifted her hand away--Duncan moaned, dejected with the loss of her, and she could see his hands shaking at his sides--then she picked up the ring from where she’d carefully laid it by her knee, dipping her fingertips into the oil, slathering them along the circular interior of the toy.

Then, Kenzie dipped one of her hands into the oil again, and quickly brought it up, before Duncan could prepare himself, to the low hardness of his cock--she slathered the oil along him from head to base and Kenzie watched with satisfaction, feeling the plug pressing into her from her spread thighs where she knelt to him, as his mouth dipped open again and his shoulders shuddered minutely at her touch. Kenzie didn’t wait again--she gripped the ring and carefully, but with deep, concentrated insistence, pushed it onto his cock to the base, watching with a burst of intense heat into the bottom of her belly how it twinged with redness, immediately constricted.

“Ung, Kenzie, fuck me, holy fuck,” Duncan murmured, his hands drifting dangerously close to the ring, to his length, his eyes furiously bright, and Kenzie shook her head.

“No, baby. You can’t. Only I can take it off.”

“Fuck, baby, angel, I can’t--”

Kenzie stood, grasping his cock again, making him shudder and cry out, his throat convulsing, and she pushed him back down into the tight briefs he wore, zipping the closely tailored slacks and buttoning them, her fingers hooking over the waistline, my tall Prince, her face hovering at his heart, her dark red lips falling against the melting gold and velvet of his jacket to kiss it. The heat that fell away from him over her was blinding--he seemed to be burning, the blue flame of him almost visible to her naked eyes.

“You can, Dunny. It’s for me. My plug is so tight, baby, when I sit down it’s going to make me fucking writhe for you--” and Duncan went to grasp her but Kenzie said “wash your hands first, baby,” and he stepped back, nodding, turning as Kenzie followed him to the bathroom--she dipped her hands into the sink with his, the soap mingling between them, the Cartier bracelets falling down their wrists and clinking together, Duncan’s face leaning close to her hair, and Kenzie knew he was breathing her scent in. She reached for the hand towel and dipped her hands into it, then Duncan’s hands were pulling it insistently away, gripping her hips and pushing her into the wall, knowing it was okay, knowing he had her permission to hold her, now that both of them were carefully, insistently claimed by the other, both driven to the edge of their desire and now, with terrible need, held there for an undetermined amount of time, and knowing that to touch each other for a moment, a few moments, would be the only relief for hours. His lips fell against hers, her arms dipping up to reach for him, but he grasped her wrists and forced them against the wall, holding her there.

“I’m in fucking agony, baby,” he murmured, and Kenzie shivered, delighted by the strength coiled in his fingers, the strain in his voice. She struggled a little, facetiously, against his grip, and he tightened it as she giggled.

“Good,” she whispered, and she felt the burst of heat fall onto her from him at that. Duncan bit his lip, his eyes falling down her face to the tailored shape of the dress against her breasts, the dip of her throat with the gold braid, diamonds, and the ruby, the diamonds on her wrist she couldn’t take off unless he unlocked it.

“I wanna fucking fuck you, Kenzie.”

“You will, baby. Later. We have a Gala to go to.”

“I don’t fucking care about the Gala.”

“I know. But we have to.”

Duncan whined into her neck, and Kenzie turned her head, the better to feel his lips on her there, turning her head up, lifting her thigh up so it pressed into his crotch, and Duncan groaned, the sound bleeding into a strangled, tiny sob in the back of his throat. His grip loosened on her wrists, enough for her to release one of them, and Kenzie slipped out of his grasp, bringing her hand around to press into his darkly stubbled cheek, smooth with the dusting of concealer Georgio had put there. Not that he needs it. His skin is already so smooth and beautiful.

Kenzie tapped his cheek with an insistent little snap. “Bad boy is gonna fuck me so good later, aren’t you. My Prince is gonna fucking fuck my brains out.”

“Uh huh. I fucking am. I wanna do it right fucking now--”

She brought her hand up and let it come down again, this time with a more insistent little tap into his cheekbone. Duncan’s breath hitched.

“Kenzie, do it again. Harder. Tell me to calm the fuck down. I’m too hard and I can’t think straight. Fuck, baby, please. Slap me.”

Kenzie nodded and brought her hand up, Duncan still clutching her other wrist to the wall--she made sure her palm was very flat this time, and brought it down with a swift snap. This time Duncan’s face pitched to the side and his eyes fluttered closed with the low pain of it, and he stepped back from her, releasing her other wrist. Kenzie brought her hands around him, steadying him at the waist, and he blew out a low breath, eyes earthwards.

“Let’s go to this fucking party, baby,” Kenzie whispered. “I wanna show them how fucking beautiful we are.”

Duncan lifted his eyes, and the wildfire in them stopped her heart again.

“I’m ready, my Queen of Roses.” And Kenzie grinned, bouncing up against him in her platform heels, shaking out her rose-laden hair, leading her dark prince out of their rooms, his hand gripping her train possessively. Kenzie snatched up the little golden clutch Morgan had made for her, and pulled him, between insistent, coaxing kisses, out of the penthouse and into the elevator. Kenzie was absolutely struck by their reflection now, highlighted by brighter lights of the elevator’s interior--Duncan was pulling his phone out of his pocket. We have to, he thought, and Kenzie nodded. Time to show everyone.

Kenzie pressed against him, clutching her hand to his lapels under her chin, turning her head so the roses in her hair were visible in the mirror, her dress pressed to the side, partially enveloped and hidden by Duncan’s dark arm around her waist, but the back of the golden train shimmering in the light. Duncan’s darkly-shadowed eyes glanced into the reflection, his expression defiant and knowing, the dripping gold of his jacket striking, the golden, intricate tips at his collar scintillating under his sharp jawline, the fall of his hair just-so. He lifted his phone, capturing the reflection, bringing it down for her appraisal. Kenzie nodded, looking up at him. Yes, baby. Good. So fucking good.

She watched as he typed a caption. Hades and Persephone ascend to Earth for a party. #weheardyoulikeus #andifyoudontohwell #duckenziesayshiworld

Kenzie giggled and nodded. “Fuck yes, baby.” He continued to hold her against him as he posted the photo, his hand drifting against her shoulder as he bit his lip, squinting at his phone in concentration in the bright light. I love him. I love how earnest he is in our quiet moments together like this.

“Baby, send it to me okay? I want it.”

Duncan nodded into her cheek as the elevator door dinged open to the foyer, and Kenzie could feel the vague pressure of the silicone ring pressing into her hip from where he leaned his crotch against her. His hand drifted down, quickly brushing over her ass, down to the curve above her thighs, where he knew the plug was--Kenzie let out a little cry and slid away from him, hot lines of want coursing down through her belly at his touch, trying to straighten her expression when she saw Anchaly had returned to his desk. Duncan followed behind her, eyes burning on her, his hand still possessively grasping her train in his fist.

“I see you’ve come down to bless the mortals, Mr. Shepherd, Miss Stone,” Anchaly grinned. He had a new book, The New Adam and Eve, by Nathaniel Hawthorne. Whatever strain he’d felt over Annette’s visit was now gone from his face, and his eyes were glittering at them again, his posture immediately leaning towards them, as if drawn by a lure. “I’m stunned, Miss Mackenzie, your hair, like the garden of Eden.”

Kenzie twirled for him, smiling at him coyly. Anchaly laughed, delighted, gazing raptly. The way people look at us now, she thought to Duncan. It’s a little bit spooky.

I agree, but who wouldn’t look at you that way, angel.

“Have a wonderful evening. I have no doubt you will, how could you not? As blessed as you are.”

Kenzie watched Duncan’s eyes turn on Anchaly, his dawning expression of recognition.

“Anchaly, we truly are blessed. I’m blessed. I’m grateful. To whatever’s out there. The Fates or...destiny. God. The gods. I’m grateful.” Duncan’s hand went to his hair, slid down his chin, rubbing there, thumb drifting to his lip. Kenzie stepped to him and grasped his hand, felt the immediate cooling contentment of his mind at her touch. Anchaly said nothing, merely continued to look at them admiringly.

“I’m sure your gratitude has not gone unnoticed, Mr. Shepherd. It’s apparent in you now. The change in you is breathtaking. You will do great work together. I can see it like a clear path stretching out ahead. Enjoy yourselves and be happy.”

Kenzie smiled. The smile seemed to extend through all of her body, down to her toes, through the tips of her fingers, into the skin of her cheeks and coursing through the back of her mind and her neck to her spine, shaking through the ends of her hair. She pushed the gold tendrils through herself; I’m so happy I could fucking die, she thought, and she felt the tendrils extend out of her in that moment, stronger than they’d ever been before except in the dream where she’d made the fire grow, and she felt them touch Duncan with deep, abiding strength, and brush against Anchaly with affection, and they both looked at her with expressions that reminded her of effigies in a church, faces turned with fervent eyes--and Duncan’s filled her with conciliation, with the knowledge that with his eyes on her this way, she was truly seen, that he saw beyond the flowers in her hair, the blush on her cheeks, the darkness at her lips, to the secret soul she had long hidden, the one that belonged to him because he had promised to love it with abandon.

Duncan seemed to surface from the vision she had pressed around them; he turned to Anchaly and thanked him, and then he pulled Kenzie out the door (Jerry said nothing, merely beamed at them and stared, his eyes wide) to where Samuel waited, and a sweet summer wind was blowing, cool and soft, and it smelled like long grass and the sun-kissed residue of day, it smelled like the full moon that hovered above them, a scent like small flowers in shadows and the heady musk of damp earth and, wildly, the aching crash of the sea, Kenzie’s eyes glancing to its perfect roundness--it seemed impossibly huge tonight, the sun kissing Her, pressed into an ardent embrace; it’s for us, she thought wildly, stopping Duncan breathlessly, bringing him against her under it, his arms lifting her into his mouth achingly, his tall body so right as it enveloped hers utterly, Kenzie, I’ll love you until the end of time, he was thinking, I’ll love you until time means nothing, and it was as if she could feel the moonlight holding them, feel it pressing soft, cool hands into their hair, smiling on them with serene affection, hoping for their love to find its secret holding place later tonight, urging them to the time when they’d be alone again, tangled in the sheets of the black bed, irrevocably entwined, like Her, held by the Sun, now a part of Her, the source of her light, and Her his most beloved. Duncan, I love you so much the words in my heart have not yet been written in any language. The gold of me is all for you. And the moon saw them, and knew it to be true.

---------

It was five before 8 when Madeline slid carefully into the front seat beside Samuel, who was playing Billie Holiday (I’ll find you in the morning sun, and when the night is new, I’ll be looking at the moon, but I’ll be seeing you) quietly. Momby was wearing one of her gold scarves draped over her shoulders with a brocade Calvin Klein dress, as promised, and she had a lovely rose-gold pin clasping the scarf against her--it was in the shape of a rose, and Kenzie puzzled at it.

“Oh Kenzie Lou, you look beautiful,” her Momby breathed, and Kenzie was reaching her hand through the partition, her emotions bubbling up, threatening to overflow. Her mother’s hand was warm and comforting, deeply familiar. “You too, Duncan. I mean, really. Fucking beautiful.”

Duncan was smiling at her through the window. “Thank you, Madeline. So do you.”

“Momby, where did you get that pin? I’ve never seen it before.”

“I had other admirers besides your father when I was young, baby,” was all Madeline said, turning to glance at Samuel. “Why hello, most delightful specimen on God’s green earth.”

Samuel laughed at her, his very white teeth shining out of his mouth in the shadows and dim neon lights of the car’s interior. “Miss Madeline, to see you again is truly a blessing to me. And may I say, you look absolutely stunning tonight.”

“Go on, go on,” Madeline took her hand out of Kenzie’s and pressed it to Samuel’s arm. Kenzie balked. Momby. Kenzie pulled her phone out, sending Clairebear a quick text, remembering.

Good luck on your date with Harris tonight!!!! I love you so much. We couldn’t help it, we jumped the gun and posted a picture on Instagram, but here it is again. She attached the photo Duncan had taken of them in the elevator to the text, hit Send, then typed again.

Clairebear, thank you for always being there for me. I don’t know who I would be without you. I’m so emotional tonight, it’s like my body is on fire. Duncan and I are going away for a few days after this, his family has a cabin by Deep Creek Lake, it’s a few hours away. He found out he’s adopted and no one ever told him until now, so it’s been really difficult for him. I don’t know how the phone service is out there, and I’ll still have my phone, but I think we’re going to try to go off the grid a little bit.

She hit Send, then typed again, Duncan’s hand drifting to her leg. “I’m texting Claire,” she murmured to him, and he nodded, his eyes closed, his mouth in her hair, blue waves tenderly brushing against her body.

Duncan and I have been having some really strange experiences with each other lately. It’s hard to describe. Strange dreams and other things that should just be impossible. I’ll tell you more about it when we get back. I think we need to figure out what it means and I feel really strongly that if we go off to the woods we’ll find the thing we’re looking for. Not sure why, but that’s what it feels like. When we get back, I think we’ll know more about all of it.

Claire, I love you forever.

They were already pulling up to the Shepherd mansion’s gate, and the moment, the reality of the Gala, which had seemed so far away, had finally arrived. Kenzie slipped her phone back into her clutch, turning to gaze out the window--around the gate were at least two hundred people, some non-credentialed press, some clearly fans. Kenzie noticed with a jolt of recognition that Lindy and Gabby were among them--Gabby was holding a sign that said DUCKENZIE WE LOVE YOU STOP AND BE FRIENDLY, her curly red hair shimmering in the street lamps that lined the tall, impenetrable white fence that stretched around the property. Kenzie grinned--referencing one of my favorite movies is a good way to get my attention, she thought, and leaned to Samuel.

“Samuel, stop here for a minute,” and Duncan balked, trying to grab her hand.

“No, Kenzie, Harris isn’t here--”

“It’s okay, baby, I promise. It’s okay.” She looked steadily into his eyes. I can do this. Watch me.

Kenzie pressed the door open and stepped out onto the curb, and immediately a swarm of press gathered around her--Duncan was getting out of the car behind her, his expression deeply creased with concern. Kenzie took a deep breath and pushed outward--for a moment her body tingled wildly, her mind compressing and her head feeling impossibly heavy, pushing her chin down--and then the air around her seemed to calm, the summer wind that had been blowing seemed to stop, and the frantic shouting of the press around her lowered as if someone had turned a dial on stereo, their pressing dispersing, like leaves scattering, caught in a tiny tornado that spread them back. There, that’s better, she thought, and reached for Duncan’s hand. His expression was stunned now, gazing at her in bewildered wonder, and Kenzie smiled at him earnestly. I told you, Dunny, it’s okay. Come on.

She stepped up to Gabby and Lindy, who hadn’t seemed to notice anything unusual, somehow; they were hopping excitedly, squealing and reaching out to her.

“Kenzie, Kenzie, we made you something!” Lindy held out a large squarish object that turned out to be a handmade scrapbook full of fan messages--Kenzie held it gently and nodded. “You look like a goddess tonight,” Lindy said, then unceremoniously the small girl burst into tears.

“Oh, Lindy, it’s okay--don’t cry,” Kenzie was pulling the girl against her gently, and Gabby was biting her lip, clearly hovering near tears as well. “Thank you so much, Duncan and I looked at the website, it’s absolutely beautiful. You two definitely have a career in web design. Maybe we can hire you for Shepherd Unlimited someday.” Gabby rocked back on her heels (both girls were wearing long flowery dresses, and their earnest loveliness pressed on Kenzie’s heart), her eyes fluttering in disbelief. “Oh, Kenzie, really? Thank you so much for looking at it, we’ve been working so hard, so, so hard.” Kenzie let go of Lindy, opening her clutch and handing the girl a tissue from it.

“Girls, we have to go, but it was so nice to see you again,” Duncan murmured to them, taking the scrapbook from Kenzie’s hands, grasping her with tight fingers. Kenzie quickly leaned and kissed Lindy’s tear-stained cheek, then Gabby’s, blushing and hot, pushing gold tendrils into them, watching Lindy’s face calm and soften. There. No more tears, sweet. I see you. She gave them both a little wave as she stepped back, then turned to the other people gathered around them, gazing at Kenzie and her interactions with the two girls with awed expressions. Suddenly the night was strangely quiet; the moon looked down on the scene, and everyone stared at Kenzie, a hush falling over the hubbub of the crowd.

“Next time,” she said, nodding, turning to the press, and then Duncan pulled her insistently back into the car, Samuel whipping the BMW around to the open gate, where several security guards were keeping the fans and other press back, ushering cars through to the mansion entrance. Kenzie heard the sounds of the crowd resume as the car drove on; that was really strange.

“Kenzie, why in the world would you do that?” Madeline was scolding her, looking back at her with an exasperated expression. “Your bodyguard is off duty and Duncan went as white as a sheet. He still is, look.”

“It’s important to be to be kind to people, Momby,” was all Kenzie said. Duncan didn’t say anything, putting the scrapbook from the girls down at his feet, still holding her hand tightly. Kenzie could see that he was a little pale under the dark eyeshadow, but his thoughts were even now. I know why you did it, baby. I love how brave you are, even if I’m not. Even when you do--whatever it is you do. I’m still afraid for your safety, my sweet Kenzie.

I know, baby, it’s okay. I’m sorry if I scared you. I just feel like I--I really feel like I need to be kind to those girls. Like I WANT to be kind to them. They can see our love and they’re moved by it. I want them to know we see them, too, and how earnest they are. How lovely.

Samuel had made it to the entrance, which Kenzie could see was heralded tonight with huge banners running from the edge of the sidewalk to the entrance, the doors thrown wide tonight to expose the opulent foyer of Annette Shepherd’s mansion. Some of the banners had the Shepherd Unlimited logo (an SU in white Verdana script with cobalt blue fleur de lis on either side) and opulent, swirling gold text on a black background that read 4TH ANNUAL SHEPHERD FREEDOM FOUNDATION GALA: GOLD IN THE DARKNESS and in smaller script The Juxtaposition of Light and Shadow in the Pre-Raphaelite Movement. Between the script banners were picture banners printed stunningly with major Pre-Raphaelite works: Kenzie could make out Rossetti’s Venus Verticordia, Cowper’s Vanity, and Evelyn de Morgan’s The Field of the Slain, alongside others obscured from her seat. The glowing feeling she’d felt with Gabby and Lindy faded out into nervous excitement now, and she felt her throat clench, her hands going cold as blood rushed to her head. She shifted, feeling the press of the plug inside her, sending sharp pricks of intensity up her spine and through her thighs. Duncan clutched her hand more tightly, and she knew he was thinking about the clenching weight of the ring at his cock, could feel the intensity of his desire for her, like lightning bolts of needling sensation, infiltrating the corners of her mind. Hang in there, baby, and she turned to him, smiling nervously, his eyes intent on her as he bit his lip. We have a long way to go.

“Earth to Kenzie and Duncan,” Madeline called into the backseat, her voice impatient. “Your mother is fucking starving!”

Kenzie glanced out the window again--between the rows of banners on either side of the entranceway was a lush black carpet, stretching into the mansion and beyond her eyesight. There were at least a hundred people milling around on it now--the press was confined to the sidelines by gold ropes, photographers to a stretch around the middle of the walkway, a black backdrop visible with the Shepherd logo and various sponsor logos printed along it. Kenzie recognized several Senators and Congresspeople, as well as the Mayor and Vice President Usher, and also recognized several well-known celebrities with a little burst of shyness--get it together Kenz, you’re a celebrity now too, in your own right.

You’re the most important person here, she heard Duncan’s thought to her. I mean it, Kenz.You are. Don’t fucking worry about any of them. Tonight, this is for you. It’s about you. They’re going to see. Kenzie felt a rush of nerves, an aching affection for him, full of gratitude and desire and love, and she quickly dipped her mouth up to his and brought her hand to his hair, then she pulled away before he could deepen it--and pushed the door open, stepping out onto the carpet.

Kenzie’s eyes widened as the collective eyes of the press and photo pools drifted over to the BMW--as one, they seemed to shift all their energy and attention onto her and her alone, giving her the acute feeling of a deer trapped in the headlights of an oncoming semi-truck. Duncan was exiting behind her, and then a short-haired valet hurrying up to them, a flushed look on his face, pulling the front passenger’s open for Madeline, who gave him an appraising stare over her glasses as Kenzie felt the eyes of the guests now turning onto them as well--she locked eyes with Mark Usher for a moment, her blood going cold, and his expression was indecipherable to her, but Kenzie knew he knew who she was, which made her feel as though someone had usurped her body and put a mask on it. The Vice President can’t possibly know me, little ol’ Mackenzie Stone. How the fuck? Life makes no fucking sense anymore.

“Darlings, please, distract them from me,” Madeline turned her head to Duncan, who was holding his hand reassuringly at the small of Kenzie’s back as she stood stock-still, frozen and trapped in her thoughts. “I need to get to the refreshment table post-haste. Kiss or something.”

“You know I’m going to kiss her, Madeline,” Duncan smiled. “As often as possible and as long as she’ll let me.”

“That’s my boy.”

Madeline set out ahead of them before Kenzie could stop her, pausing to made a snide comment to a woman with platinum blonde hair and a monstrous dress that seemed to be made of the tinselly tassels of cheerleader pompoms in gold and white towards the front of the press area. The woman’s face pinched into a mask of dislike at Kenzie’s mother, and Kenzie fought the urge to laugh.

“Who’s that?” She whispered to Duncan, unable to look away from the horrible dress the woman wore. Kenzie felt acutely that she recognized her from somewhere, but couldn’t decipher where.

“It’s Gretchen Friedrichs,” Duncan answered in a dark tone. “She has a popular conservative web series called Patriot Watch. And she’s absolutely awful. I hope Madeline just told her to fuck off into a black hole. She’s going to try to talk to you. Ignore her.”

Duncan twined his fingers through Kenzie’s, his other hand coming down to her train to drape it over his arm, and he stepped forward, pulling her gently. Time to go, sweet Kenzie. You look as beautiful as a falling star. I know how brave you are. This is nothing for you. A piece of cake. They were nearing the press pool, the whole of which had turned their attention utterly on Kenzie and Duncan, making the hairs on Kenzie’s arms rise with the intensity of their stares. The energy was suddenly dense, suffocating, almost savage, and it made Kenzie want to turn and run back to the BMW--but the BMW wasn’t there anymore, Samuel had driven away. Too late, Kenz, you’re in it now. Kenzie glanced at Duncan, feeling her heart clench, feeling as though there was water in her ears, blocking her hearing, and she felt horribly dizzy for a moment. He’s so beautiful, all in gold and black, as beautiful as the evening, as divine as an angel with dark wings, Prince Duncan from high in his opulent tower, and who am I, but little Mackenzie Stone, tripping over her own feet, crying over every little thing, with her shitty little apartment and her shitty little tchotkes, her shitty little plants and her little goofy button face--

Kenzie. Remember when you had the nightmare? Breathe like that. Just breathe, baby. I love you more than anything on this earth. You know how extraordinary you are--but I’ll tell you again. You’ve felt it when our minds come together this way--you’ve felt it in our bed, how you’ve made me needy for you beyond all desire I’ve ever experienced, and you’ve felt it in the way you can bring comfort to others just by willing it into them. Mackenzie Stone. You are not a little of anything. You are a gold ocean of impossible depth. Now breathe. I love you. Show them. Duncan’s eyes were twin pools of sapphiric water--they knew her, and saw her, and accepted her utterly, worshipped her, and she knew it.

Kenzie breathed in through her nose, held it, and breathed out through her mouth. Then she went up to Gary Spencer and Sissy Conners, past Gretchen Friedrichs who shouted “Mackenzie, Mackenzie, does this mean you’re a Republican now?” and smiled at them--and when she smiled, rather than pressing the gold outward, Kenzie swirled it, stirred it, in the pit of her body, stirred it high into herself, and moved it through her mind. Mackenzie. You truly are that brave person Duncan believes you to be. Think of everything that’s happened. This is really nothing. You’re together. You are the sceptre, he is the sword. Eternal and unshaking.

The last of the thought came unbidden, a jarring, nonsensical certainty that she didn’t understand, and Kenzie blinked, moving it away from herself, refocusing on the high, heady boldness she could feel building in herself now. She shifted, resurfacing to reality, feeling the plug pressing into her again, pressing hot fingers into the sensitivity of her muscles and senses. Our secret, baby, here among all these people.

“Mackenzie, how are you feeling tonight?” Sissy was holding a microphone out to her, her smile too wide and too white, her dress a blinding, extremely tight bodycon in dark gold snakeskin. “You look absolutely exquisite, an absolute vision, I know you mentioned yesterday that Morgan Winthrop designed your look for tonight, but what’s the concept here, beyond the theme?”

“I’m the concept,” Kenzie was tilting her head down, batting her eyelashes slowly, giving her best Kenzie-wants-something-from-Momby look--one she’d perfected over a lifetime--aware the camera on Ricky’s shoulder behind them was zeroed on her. She glanced to the side--Duncan was saying something to Gretchen in a low voice, still clutching the end of Kenzie’s train, his expression dark. Gretchen looked like she’d swallowed something sour, and Kenzie looked back at the BPF reporters, a satisfied twinge floating through her mind. “Duncan was inspired by me. By our relationship. We both love mythology and we’re drawn to the myth of Hades and Persephone, so we kind of went with something along those lines, but--I feel wonderful, I can’t wait to see the set-up inside, I just love the banners already. I know everyone’s been working so hard. I love the romanticism of all of it, and I’m so happy Duncan and I are finally getting a chance to step out publically together, so, yeah--I’m just really happy to be here. And to show off Morgan’s extraordinary talents.” She grinned at Sissy, who was gaping at her with surprise. Duncan finally appeared at her elbow; he’d set her train down behind them, and Kenzie turned her head over her shoulder to glance down at it, fanning like a gold river over a black landscape, then turned her face up to him, her smile still wide. I fucking love you, baby. She grasped his hand and Sissy switched the microphone to Duncan now, her expression one of wonder, speaking rapidly.

“Duncan, wow--the look. The eyeshadow, the gold jacket, the collar--you two are just so incredibly beautiful together, there’s now an internet shorthand for your relationship, “Duckenzie”, which I’m sure you’re both aware of, I’ve heard you have a fan club now and your Instagrams are the most popular on the internet lately--I saw you already posted a shot of your looks for tonight and it’s racked up a quarter of a million likes already--is there anything you would say to your fans around the world? They seem to be growing by the hour, and tonight is sure to bring you more.”

“We think everyone is wonderful,” Kenzie said, and turned to Duncan, drifting gold against him. Everyone can see, baby. I feel it. He nodded, smiling down at her, his dark look shivering against her heart again, his thumb pressing into her palm, suggestive, hidden. “And good things are coming,” he said.

“Duncan, can you elaborate on that?” Gary said, his eyes switching back and forth between them, puzzled, rapt.

“It’ll be clearer in time,” Kenzie said to him, staring at him steadily for a long moment. Gary seemed utterly shaken by them; Kenzie could see sweat had broken out on his brow, and he looked away from her after a moment, nervously. “Thanks, Sissy, Gary. Thanks.”

“Have...a wonderful time.”

Sissy’s voice suddenly seemed tiny, far different from the boisterous tone she usually used. Kenzie could see the confusion in the other woman’s eyes--as if she’d seen something she couldn’t explain, something that had shaken her to the core. It’s us, Kenzie knew. Sissy saw us for a moment. Not me and Duncan, not really--she saw those other selves. The ones we see in our dreams sometimes. The ones that cannot be described in words. She saw us, just the tiniest bit, reflected from us like a mirror held up to another time and place. She felt us. Kenzie pulled Duncan away from the press pool, and to the black backdrop, turning towards where fifty photographers crouched on specially designed pews--their flashes immediately blinded her, made her suck her breath in, their voices rising in a cacophony so she could barely decipher one from the next.

“You got this, baby,” Duncan was whispering down into her ear, his hand snaking around her waist again. “Duncan! Mackenzie! Over here! Mackenzie, you look gorgeous! Mackenzie! You look beautiful Mackenzie! Duncan, this way, thank you! We love you, over here! You’re so lovely together! Duckenzie, look this way! Thank you! Duckenzie forever!” And Kenzie couldn’t help but laugh, dipping her head to showcase the dark rosebuds in her hair, Duncan turning his face down to her temple, his smile making her laugh again as he clutched her against him, their Cartier bracelets visibly crossed at their wrists for the onlookers, the shattering rhythm of the cameras rising higher, frenzied to capture the moment between them, the voices of the photographers clashing again and again against each other, and Kenzie felt absolutely drunk to be in his arms this way, suddenly forgetting the dozens of cameras facing them, feeling the pressure of the hidden ring at his groin pressing against the dip of her abdomen, making her shudder in his arms with tiny, almost imperceptible tension, and she could hear a kind of rising sigh from the photographers, a murmuring admiration that seemed to be making Duncan flushed, seemed to be kindling his boldness--he turned his face down to her, opening his mouth just so, kissing her in a rapturous, fluid movement that caused an audible gasp from the rows of cameras, a collective exclamation of gratification that elated her.

His lips bruised against her for a tender, tiny eon--Kenzie lost herself against him for the span of it, her eyes closing to the intensity of the camera flashes, the sound of the shouting mob floating away from her ears, her mind drifting to them alone in their bed in the blessed darkness, his strong, elegant hands tying her to the chain with velvet ribbon, that first kiss, that night on the balcony covered in roses, god, my life changing forever in your arms in an instant, beloved, the unbearable softness with which he’d first touched her, his hands falling to the sides of her face, the urgency of his mouth then, the venerate devotion in his mouth now--and then Duncan was breaking away from her, as if remembering himself, remembering that they were caught in the gaze of at least two hundred people in this moment, and they resurfaced to reality, both of them trembling against each other, longing for the moment where Kenzie knew, and could feel that Duncan knew, they could finally be alone. Alone together, the only thing I ever want now, ever.

There was another audible, collective sigh from the photographers as Duncan gently pulled Kenzie beyond the backdrop--this one of disappointment at the moment ending, Kenzie knew, frustration that they were leaving. They adore us, Kenzie thought. And she knew it was absolutely true; knew it, without ego or pretense, as she knew the full moon was hanging over them, watching the night unfold. They see it too.

Duncan was pulling her away from the frenzied press of the carpet--Kenzie could now see that almost everyone around them was watching them, but everyone seemed to be afraid to speak to them, eyes flitting over Duncan’s dripping-gold jacket, the striking shadow around his eyes, over the fall of her hair and the Cartier diamonds at her throat and on her wrist, falling down the shimmering gold of her bodice and the gentle dip of the sleeves, the train drifting behind her. No one dared to tread on her--Kenzie recognized a very famous actor, watched him carefully avoid the train, his eyes roving up over her form hungrily, and she met his gaze with a tiny smile. He looked away, sheepishly, blushing. I suppose one doesn’t dare mess with the Shepherds, generally speaking. Not for the first time, and she suspected, not the last, Kenzie remembered that Duncan was part of a very, very wealthy family, and that likely, he would soon be the inheritor of that immense wealth.

And then we’ll change the world, baby.

Kenzie gazed raptly at the foyer as Duncan helped her up the steps and through the double-doors, looping her hand into the crook of his arm, pressing her fingers into the muscles there, feeling him clench them at her touch. More baby, touch me more. There were dozens more of the banners here, Hughes’ Ophelia, Burne-Jones’ The Golden Stairs, but the angels of Waterhouse’s St. Cecilia caught her eye immediately--their sweet faces calm and reticent, watching the saint in her slumber, their innocence and sincerity clamoring into her heart. They look like Gabby and Lindy, Kenzie thought, remembering Lindy’s tears. My two little angels. Duncan looked back at her, noticing the emotion in her. She shook her head a little.

“It’s all just so beautiful, Dunny,” she whispered, and he was nodding to her, the dark beauty of him in the chandeliers moving her further still, moving her beyond words again. He brought his arm around her to drift down her back, pulling her beside the staircase, out of the way of the people around them, sliding his fingers down to the beginning of the incline of her ass, and she drifted back from him, shaking her head. No, baby, don’t. It’s too much. There are too many people. You need to be patient. She saw the terrible longing floating behind his eyes, saw the blue flames licking around her from him, and she smiled. Poor, poor baby. Is that ring making you ache and ache for me?

Yes, Kenzie, fuck. So fucking much. It’s almost unbearable. I feel like I’m about to pass out.

My poor, sweet baby. Kenzie went back to him, letting him grip her under her bare arms with his hot fingers, letting him press his mouth against her cheek, onlookers be damned. Let them look. Annette was nowhere to be seen here--Kenzie’s eyes skirted across the room as Duncan continued to kiss down to her ear, pressing into her. She must be in the room beyond. I don’t know how we’re going to avoid her, but we’re going to.

“We should probably find Momby, make sure she hasn’t fallen into a fondue fountain somewhere.”

“God, I just want you alone,” Duncan’s mouth was shivering into the dip of her ear, bringing the delicate hairs at the back of her neck up, his hands drifting at the smooth gold under her breasts. “I just want you all to myself, angel.” Kenzie could see people staring at them, eyes hungry; god, I don’t know who a lot of these people are, but they look fucking important.

“Shhh, really baby, we should find Momby, okay? Please?”

At that moment Kenzie’s eyes zeroed on a figure making a determined beeline for them from the other side of the foyer--Duncan was still pressing his mouth into her ear, sucking and biting there with urgency, his whispers having quieted to now drift secretly in her mind, and he hadn’t noticed the figure yet. It was a woman, and she was petite, like Kenzie, and beautiful, with wide, long-lashed eyes, full lips and a button nose, but rail-thin, her chin jutting towards them as though she were being pulled by an invisible force. She had long, artfully styled platinum hair, falling over her shoulder in expertly arranged waves, and her dress was a sculptured black bodice decorated with intricate gold embroidery, accentuating her minute waist, which fell into a voluptuous cascade of black tulle that seemed to buoy her across the room. At her throat was a huge yellow diamond, so large Kenzie wondered for a moment how she was holding her head up. Her fists were clenched at her sides as if she were bitterly angry, but a wide smile was plastered across her face, exposing all her teeth (like a crocodile, Kenzie thought). Her dark eyes were staring, eerily unblinking, at the back of Duncan’s head, and at Kenzie.

Marissa Montague.

“Duncan,” Kenzie whispered, trying to pull back from him, but he continued to kiss at her, lost for a moment, “Duncan, it’s--”

“Duncan Shepherd! Duncan, oh my god, I’ve been so busy lately, it’s been so hard to call you!” Marissa had reached them, and her voice pitched high, dipping towards uneven, though her smile remained plastered on her face, stretching her cheeks to what looked like an almost painful degree to Kenzie. Duncan stopped kissing Kenzie’s neck, but his mouth still hovered close to her, his arms still clutched tightly around her. Kenzie looked over his shoulder into Marissa’s eyes; she could see the coiled snake that rested behind them, the wanton need, now that Marissa was this close. But not for Duncan, not really, Kenzie knew. What she wants is attention--fame, attention everlasting from the multitude, and to be showered in riches, but her thirst for them is insatiable. There’s a hole inside her that gnaws with hungry teeth, and it has never had its fill, not once. So she searches for more food for it.

Duncan turned his head slowly to look at Marissa, and Kenzie saw the cast of a dark storm inside his eyes, felt the blue flame of him, shimmering, flare up with discomfort. Oh, no FUCKING way, she heard his thought, and slid her fingers down his arm, soothing him with her touch. It doesn’t matter, baby, I’m here. We’re together. Let them try to get between us. Let her try. Let anyone.

“Why would you be calling me anyway, Marissa?” Duncan was gazing at her evenly, still holding Kenzie close, his hand drifting in her hair, over the rosebuds. Kenzie could feel the wave of anger in him, feel the drifting measure of dislike. She’s lovely on the outside, Kenzie thought, but inside there is something gone, like it was ripped out of her and only the ragged void remains, a void she longs to fill but cannot. Poor Marissa. She instantly felt empathy for the other woman, seeing her so closely, felt embarrassed for her, as if Marissa were suddenly naked. As lovely as the actress was, Kenzie could immediately see how deeply discontent she was, how full of voracious need.

“Well, we never really finished what we started, now did we?” Marissa stepped forward, the smile that had been plastered faltering a little, her eyes skirting to Kenzie with annoyance, her hand snatching out, attempting to grasp his velvety arm. Duncan stepped out of her reach, pulling Kenzie to the side with him, his mouth curling up ever-so-slightly.

“And we never will. Marissa, this is my girlfriend--my partner--Mackenzie Stone. I’m sure you’ve read about her. Kenzie, this is Marissa Montague.”

“Of course,” and Kenzie forced herself to smile politely, bringing out a hand, Duncan’s cheek pressing against her hair, refusing to let go of her or let Marissa near him. “It’s lovely to meet you.” Marissa ignored the hand, crossing her arms now, barking out a little laugh.

“Partner,” she mimicked. “Since when have you ever had a partner, Duncan? We all know your reputation. You used to bring a different fuck buddy home every night, I was there back then, when we were all hanging around with the Ducatis and doing a mountain of cocaine every day.” Marissa plastered the grin back on her face. “I can see why you’re stringing this one along, though, what a scrumptious little pussy cat.” Marissa brought her hands up to her face and pressed them in a V against her mouth, flicking her tongue out.

This woman has no interest in sex, Kenzie knew, despite Marissa’s lewd gesture. Marissa’s eyes flicked over to her again with a measure of loathing, and Kenzie caught her gaze this time, trapping Marissa’s dark, intense eyes. In fact, it disgusts and bores her. But she is practiced at the art of pretending. She’ll fake interest in anything if she thinks it can move her to where she thinks she wants to be. Sometimes, though, she’s disillusioned by the reality versus her expectation. And she always wants more. Like a wind that howls endlessly.

“Marissa. What do you want?” Duncan’s tone dipped, and Kenzie could feel his anger beginning to stir, his frustration and lust for her pressing against the anger, kindling it further, his sorrow and disillusionment with his mother pressing there too, and his energy became ragged and chaotic, the turmoil in him suddenly like water boiling over. She concentrated, conjuring wave after wave of translucent gold in her mind, staring at Marissa evenly as she pressed them down over him in his arms. I have no animosity in my heart for you, she thought to the other woman. In fact, I feel acute sympathy for you. I’m sorry you’re trapped in a world where you cannot possibly be yourself.

“I want you to ditch this penniless, raggedy bitch, Duncan. What are you doing? I mean, who even is she? Do you realize what you’re doing to your reputation? Really, it’s embarrassing.” Marissa was rolling her eyes, fingers toying with the huge diamond at her neck, another mirthless laugh barking out of her. “I’m gonna go do a line in the bathroom, and you should join me. I mean, it’s silly that we stopped seeing each other. I’m willing to forgive you if you’ll just get rid of her.”

“Marissa. You’re embarrassing yourself right now. Please, go away. Immediately.” Duncan’s tone was quiet and very low. “Go away or I’ll have you escorted off the premises.”

Marissa scoffed. “Duncan Shepherd, you can’t fucking do that.”

“Marissa.”

Kenzie had been watching from the cocoon of Duncan’s arms, but a hot, blinding energy had been building behind her temples for the last few minutes, one that seemed to want to burst from her mouth and her eyes and the corners of her fingertips; seemed alive and impatient, shot through with sunlight, and the power of the energy, the feeling in the center of her belly, was immense, like the dream where she’d made the fire grow. The energy, Kenzie knew, could do whatever she willed it to do--could move objects, could stop them, could distort the air, could freeze it, could move unseeable things, reverse them, rewind them. The knowledge of the immensity of the energy overwhelmed her for a moment--and Kenzie felt sure that though this woman had some strange power of her own (it was like indigo, the color of her, like indigo that ached, and the thing Marissa ached for was a thing she couldn’t find, like a lost portion of her heart that had tumbled down a dark well, never to be retrieved from the depths again), Kenzie was calm in the certainty that hers was greater, because it was lighter, it was the gold that could move all things, the gold that could heal, and the gold that could shield from all darkness.

“Marissa,” Kenzie said again, focusing her eyes inside the other woman’s. “It’s over. You will not be able to move him again. You must stop now. It’s futile.” The world has shifted, she thought now, into Marissa’s wide brown eyes, the words clear in her mind, as if she’d read them in an ancient book. The path is set. Yours goes somewhere else. To attempt to alter our destiny--the High Destiny--will result in your personal destruction. Stop now, little one.

The air seemed to cool, to thin. The three of them were inside the energy now; the energy that had come from the center of Kenzie, that she had somehow pressed out, controlled, to only the cocoon of their circle. The other guests seemed to drift past them as if in a dream, not glancing at them, as if they didn’t see the cocoon at all, as if she, Duncan and Marissa were suddenly invisible--it’s working, Kenzie thought. Let’s see if I can move her away from us now.

Marissa’s expression had fallen from the obscene, mocking smile to one of confusion and apprehension--her eyes widened, her head whipping back and forth inside the cocoon Kenzie had created around them, and she seemed utterly bewildered.

“What the fuck,” she murmured, her voice cracking. “What the fuck are you doing to me?”

“Marissa, I’m sorry. I can see how cold you’ve felt, and for so long. Good luck on your path. Look for something that won’t harm others. Look for something to protect. I promise, if you can find that, you will be happy someday. Go now. Forget about Duncan. That’s all over. He is not yours, not at this time, and not in any time.”

And with those words spoken, Kenzie pushed Marissa out of the cocoon she had built, and Marissa turned, as if in a dream, and walked away from them, not looking back, her blonde hair and tulle skirt retreating until she had turned the corner of the vast parlor beyond, and they could no longer see her. Kenzie breathed in through her nose, held it, counted. As she did, she could hear her heart beating frantically, feel the tiny shaking in Duncan’s arms as he held her, His face had pressed against her temple again, his eyes closed, and he looked almost meditative, but Kenzie could feel the confusion inside him; he doesn’t understand what I did, either. But he trusts me. He trusts me now. He knows I’d never hurt him, never, never in this world. He knows I will always protect him. And I will, baby. I always will.

Then she breathed out, and the spell broke; the cocoon dissipated, and they were back in the foyer of the Shepherd mansion, the sounds of clinking glasses, lilting piano music, and blue-blooded voices speaking in polite cadences bleeding back into the background. Duncan opened his eyes to stare into hers, and the storms there had dissipated--their blue was calm now, like the sky bleeding into a summer evening, like the moon’s reflection on a pool of water.

“Kenzie, baby, what was that?”

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