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mollymirror · 3 years

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m o l l y l e n o r a p r e w e t t

basics:

name: molly lenora prewett. pronunciation: maa·lee lehn·aw·r·uh prewet·t. meaning: molly- sea of bitterness, star of the sea, rebellion. lenora- sun’s rays. birthday: october 30th. age: nineteen. pronouns: she & her. sexuality: heterosexual. siblings: fabian prewett, gideon prewett. parents: peter prewett & melody prewett nee macmillan. other family: . languages: english. irish. current residence: arthur weasley’s flat. hometown: galway.

wizard fun:

hogwarts house: gryffindor. year of graduation: 1979. occupation: part-time seamstress at twilfitt & tatting. pet: a cat named lavalump, but known as dubby. two pet chickens named cherry cola and nilla wafer. blood status: pureblood. species: witch. patronus: elephant. elephants are traditionally considered a symbol of good luck, wisdom, fertility, and protection. the elephant is also associated with offering energies of protection, love, loyalty, and quiet courage. people with elephant patronus are brilliant and often make excellent researchers or scientists. these people have deep emotions and will respond to those feelings from a place of inner knowing. the family is essential to them, especially the very young and the very old. folks with this spirit animal always have a soft spot for the weak and the helpless. loyalty is the elephant patronus’s strong suit, and they remain loyal despite challenging circumstances in all situations. boggart: the idea of her family hurt and her unable to do anything to help. recently, the idea that something could hurt her children, too. amortentia: butterscotch. molly will happily add butterscotch to anything. she is certainly convinced there is nothing better tasting in this wide world. fresh laundry. chores were always something that molly was expected to do, but she was happy to help. laundry fast became her favorite thing to do. she finds folding it to be a good way to calm her nerves. apple. the smell of apples always bring her back to baking or to the orchards that grew not far from the house or eating on a hike or snacking away the afternoon. no matter what, they always bring her back to a happy memory. wand type: 11″ alder wood, unicorn hair, unrelenting. alder is an unyielding wood, yet I have discovered that its ideal owner is not stubborn or obstinate, but often helpful, considerate and most likeable. whereas most wand woods seek similarity in the characters of those they will best serve, alder is unusual in that it seems to desire a nature that is, if not precisely opposite to its own, then certainly of a markedly different type. when an alder wand is happily placed, it becomes a magnificent, loyal helpmate. of all wand types, alder is best suited to non-verbal spell work, whence comes its reputation for being suitable only for the most advanced witches and wizards. unicorn hair generally produces the most consistent magic, and is least subject to fluctuations and blockages. wands with unicorn cores are generally the most difficult to turn to the dark arts. they are the most faithful of all wands, and usually remain strongly attached to their first owner, irrespective of whether he or she was an accomplished witch or wizard. affiliation: neutral.

appearance:

height: 5′3″. hair color: honey russet. eye color: hazel. typical hair style: a loosely curled bob is the most frequent hairstyle that molly sports. the next most frequent is two buns on top of her head. she loves pigtails and plaited pigtails too. she does like to experiment with different ways to wear her hair, though, and likes to use a lot of clips and ribbons. fashion style: molly fashion a good bit of her own clothes. she wears a lot of knits and denim. she prefers things to be in warm colors and has a preference for stripes, overalls, and soft textures. she wears clogs or sneakers most often. molly tends to prefer shorts and skirts to pants. a lot of hand-me-downs have been incorporated and refashioned in her wardrobe, too. she loves to wear baseball caps. overall, she definitely has a bit of a tomboy look. [ fashion ] distinguishing features: molly is perhaps best known for her red hair and remarkably friendly face. her eyes are very kind and she smiles more often than not. she has freckles over her nose, cheeks, and shoulders. she has scars on her elbow from falling out of a tree, on her knee from jumping off a broom, and one on her hand from a baking incident.

personality:

positive traits: genuine. maternal. nurturing. negative traits: anxious. busybody. temperamental. theme song: wildwood flower by the carter family.

headcanons:

when she was still living at home, molly’s room was littered with all sorts of stuffed animals. some hand made. she just loves them they’re so cute and fluffy and cozy. if anyone has ever gotten her one, she doesn’t have the heart to throw it out, and they sit in every available corner of her. they all have names, and the older ones have very defined personalities too. her favorite ones are on her bed. they’re the a-team.

molly has the knowledge of incredible table manners. her mother spent a good deal of time teaching her how to be a polite member of society. however, molly doesn’t always put this knowledge into practice. it’s not that she’s purposefully rude. only that sometimes, her manners are forgotten in favor of elbows on the table. usually she isn’t bothered by anyone else’s manners unless they’re really, really bothersome.

on her own, molly can struggle to fall asleep. her anxiety often gets the better of her if she’s lying quietly in bed for too long. at home, it’s easily solved by putting on records (or if it was too bad the boys would sit with her). at school, she was more like to smoke so that she drifts off quietly. now, she will wait for arthur to come and cuddle with her. once she is asleep, molly sleeps like a rock. there is almost nothing in the world that can disturb or wake her up.

biography:

the prewett family had never been the elite of pureblooded society. more often than not, they hovered somewhere near the middle. with enough influence that they could easily marry into the most ancient and noble house of black, but regarded by many to be less than due to their lax attitude about the strict purity of blood. the macmillan family had been treated little better. the distinction being that the macmillan’s wanted more. when a young melody macmillan expressed her desire to marry peter prewett, her father didn’t approve at first. the couple had to threaten to elope with one another before they finally relented and allowed them a proper ceremony.

they agreed that their family would not be focused on the power of a name, but the love they would share.

fabian came first. gideon wasn’t long after. hand in hand the prewett boys brought light into the world. the old country home was filled with laughter as they learned to talk and play and toddle about. their father often exclaiming that he didn’t know two things so little could cause so much of a ruckus with a hearty laugh. their bliss only grew more with the news that melody was pregnant once again.

molly lenora prewett was born the day before all hallow’s eve. the autumn leaves covered the ground in hues of scarlet and fiery orange. one twin says that it rained all morning the day that their little sister was born; the other twin says that he can remember the sun shining down on them as they waited for news on their mum. the only thing that they agreed on was that molly came in a little pink blanket, she was the loudest thing they’d ever heard, and they loved her entirely.

the young molly knew a life filled with blanket forts tied to every corner of the ceiling, baking pies on sunday evening with her mother, long walks out to the garden to help her father degnome the plots, a brother for each hand, mountains of stuffed animals, and so very many grass stains. it was a life filled with peace. it was a place where molly could be comfortably fearless. even as a little tot, molly recognized that her brothers would run into any fight without a second thought, but it would be a miracle if they remembered to tie their shoes first. it became second nature to care for the more obvious things they missed.

when the twins left for hogwarts, the house was noticeably quieter. molly got bored easily. without any traps to watch out for or presents to find, the suddenly singular girl had to find other avenues to focus her attention. she began to spend more and more time learning from their mother. molly learned to sew, to knit, to bake, and to brew what is universally regarded as a damn fine cup of tea. that time with their mother refined molly. it dulled the edges of her otherwise sharp temper and made her more receptive to where value can be found.

in the blink of an eye, it was her own turn to attend hogwarts. while she’d been nervous, molly wouldn’t let a soul see. fabian and gideon spent the entire night before ‘helping’ her pack her trunk with everything from the potted plant in the kitchen to lavalamp, her sweet kitten. it wasn’t until later that she realized they’d just been trying to distract her from her anxiety keeping her up all night. on the train ride to the castle, she wondered if she’d been in a house with one of them. it would feel weird not to be, but she suspected that she wasn’t quite clever enough to be in ravenclaw. the sorting hat seemed to agree. molly took her seat at the gryffindor table proudly.

molly was successful in school. she always managed to finish her homework and made good marks on her tests. there wasn’t any particular study that she outshined in than others with the sole exception of charms. there was no charm that little molly couldn’t figure out how to cast given enough time to practice. unlike her brothers, molly was perfectly content to stay out of trouble unless provoked. that being said, it was quite easy to provoke her. molly’s temper was legendary.

as the ominous clouds of war gather on the horizon, molly knows where her loyalties lie. her heart is with her family. however, she was never a warrior or soldier. molly held no interest in fighting or battles. she wanted to build a family and home like the one that she’d grown up in. she wanted to make sure that there was something worth fighting for in the end.

then she met arthur weasley. he was perfect. molly had never met a man in equal parts so brave, clever, and kind. she was always shocked to find that he wanted to spend time with her too. the two grew closer and closer. even when he left school, they continued to write. molly would look for simply any excuse to go see him during her breaks. it came as a shock to no one, but her, when he finally asked her to be his girlfriend. there was no other option, but yes, even though molly still wasn’t sure it was a title she deserved.

rather hastily into their relationship, molly realized that something had changed. several things actually. arthur seemed more distant. he disappeared for hours with little explanation. then came her morning sickness. then came a brand new panic. a child? arthur instantly asked her to come live with him, and molly agreed. it has been a few months, but she still has not told anyone else about the situation. not even her family. she barely has the nerve to mention her fears about the hours that arthur comes home. this is what molly had always dreamed about and yet, it felt out of sorts somehow. she isn’t sure what to make of it except to try and make the best of the situation. but how long can she be an island of hope in an unforgiving storm?

#ahintro #;about #;biography #;molly #;inspo

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corallilac0101102 · 5 years

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Lukanette #2

This is part 2 of 'First meeting'. I wanted them to go together, so don't yell at me. This gonna be in Luka's point of view and it's taking place about ten minutes after he walked away.

Luka looked at his left hand. It felt weird without his string. He was glad that he met Marinette but, it doesn't change the fact his ring finger felt strange. It also looked weird. Ivan called him for a mic check. Luka grabbed his guitar and headed on stage. Once he was ready, they started to play. Something was off. Luka didn't know if it was the music or, the fact that he didn't have the pressure of his string around his arm. When he had his string, it would get in the way when he played his guitar so, he would wrap it around his arm like a snake and throw the end over his left shoulder. But, now he didn't have to do that. He looked out into the cafe as more people came in. His eye drifted towards where Marinette was supposed to be, but, she wasn't there. Luka could see her bag was still there so, she must still be in the cafe. The sound of a high pitched ringing snapped him out his thoughts.

"And that's why we do a mic check ladies and gentlemen. I'm sorry you had to hear that." Rose said as a tech guy came and fiddled around with the microphone. Luka turned to Juleka.

"Hey, do you have a hair tie?"

"No. Why do you need one?"

"I just do." He didn't want to tell her about Marinette just yet, and he needs the hair tie to wrap around his ring finger to help with the lack of wight from his string. Juleka just shrugged. Luka sighed and turned to go back to his place on stage. But Marinette caught his attention as she walked with (what Luka guessed) was a coffee in hand. Then a light bulb went off in his head. He pulled his guitar over him and placed it on the stage then jumped off. Ivan yelled for him but Luka ignored him. He walked over to Marinette. Her hair was still in a ponytail, and that means she might have an extra hair tie he could barrow. Just as Marinette sat down, Luka sat across her. She looked up and gave a confused smile.

"Aren't you supposed to be on stage right now?"

"Yeah but, I have a favor to ask."

"Um, ok. What is it?"

"Do you have an extra hair tie I could barrow?" Luka blushed a little while he asked. Marinette gave him a confused look.

"Why?" She asked. Not in a judgemental way, just pure curiosity. Luka looked at his hands and fidgeted with them, and blushed as he answered her,

"I'm used to playing my guitar with my string wrapped around my arm and the wight from it on my finger. Now that I met you, my string's gone and it's throwing me off." He looked up at her.

"Not that I would change meeting you! It's just," He sighed.

"It comforted me while I was on stage. So, I'd like a hair tie to wrap around my finger to fill in for lack of wight." Marinette gave him an assured smile. Luka's eye followed her hands as she pulled out the hair tie holding her hair up. Her hair fell on her shoulders and she ran her finger's through her it to brush it out a little. She looked beautiful in Lukas's eyes. She looked up at him and smiled.

"Here." She handed over her hair tie to him. Luka took it and wrapped it around his finger. It was a little bulky but, it would do. He blushed again when he looked back her.

"Thank you. I'll give it back after the show."

"No need. But, may I suggest getting a ring? It may help and it won't stand out as much."

"That's a good idea. I'll probably do that tomorrow." They both laughed. Luka heard rose call him back. He sighed and stood up.

"Thank you again, Marinette."

"Your welcome." She gave him a soft smile that comforted him. Luka turned to walk away. As he walked, he suddenly felt a hand grab his own. He turned and saw Marinette holding something.

"Hold on. I can help you even more if you'd like." She held up her hand. "I have a red ribbon I use to tie my hair up in sometimes. I thought I could wrap it around your arm, just like how you used to with our string." Luka stared dumbfounded. This girl was too kind. He turned to the stage and yelled, "Hold on!" and took Marinette's up on her offer. They moved to the side of the room, so servers could walkabout. Marinette was about to wrap it around his leather Jacket when he stopped her. She looked at him confused. He laughed and took off his jacket to reveal a long-sleeved black shirt. Marinette blushed.

"I thought you were wearing a t-shirt."

"Nope. This place can get pretty cold with the air conditioner." Marinette giggled, and opened a safety pin and pinned the ribbon to his shirt. She slowly started to wrap the rest around his arm. Luka watched as she got to work. He noticed her nose scrunched up. 'She must be constraining.' he thought. She looked cute. Marinette walked around him and pinned the last bit of ribbon on the top back of his shirt.

"There, how's that? Not too tight right?" Luka moved his arm and pretend to play an air guitar. It felt just like how it did when his string was wrapped around him. He looked at Marinette with amazement.

"This is perfect! It's not too tight either. Thanks!"

"Your welcome. Every time I had to sew, I did the same thing." So, that's why she had safety pins, she a seamstress. From what Luka learned in movies, they always are prepared for a fashion emergency. He took a mental note to ask her about her sewing later. He could hear Rose call him again. He thanked Marinette again, and put his jacket back on and ran off to the stage. Rose, Ivan, and Juleka all gave him irritated looks. He shrank a little and apologized.

"It won't happen again."

"It better not!" Rose said. He laughed and they continued with there mic check. After everything checked out, they were ready to start there mini-concert. Luka knew it was just a show in a cafe, but it made him feel like a professional when he said it was a "mini-concert" and It was Marinette's first time watching his "mini-concert". He never got nervous but, he didn't want to mess up this performance. Rose gathered everyone's attention and announced the band and its members. Luka waved when rose called his name. Rose then said the name of the first song and the show began. Luka could feel Marinette's ribbon around his arm as he played, it gave him comfort. As their show came to an end, Luka walked in the middle of the stage and announced he was going slow thing's down a little.

"For this last song, were going to do a cover of 'Tides' by RELIC."

Luka took a deep breath and nodded towards Ivan. He began drumming and Luka joined him. Luka didn't sing in front of people. He lost a bet with Ivan, that was the only reason he was singing tonight. As he sang, he looked out into the crowd. Some swang/bopped their head to the music, or some tap either there foot or finger. He turned to Marinette and smiled. She was doing all four. Her smile was bright and soft. Her body was intuned to the music and it moved right along with it. He was slowly beginning to understand why she was his soulmate. After the song was over, the entire band thanked the crowd for listing and walked off stage. Luka put his guitar in his case and unwrapped Marinette's ribbon. Well, he tried. Luka found it was hard to open a safety pin on your back with one hand. He gave up. He'd just have to ask Marinette to take it off. As Luka walked out, he saw her standing to wait for him. He smiled and walked up to her.

"Hey." Marinette jumped a little. She turned to look at him and smiled.

"That was amazing! Your guy's music is incredible. I can't believe I didn't know about you guys before."

"I'm not surprised. Were playing around right now, getting the feel of performing in front of people. By this time next year, we hope to release an album."

"I hope you do! I'd listen to it while I sew or get ready for my day." Luka laughed. She looked really cute when she got excited.

"Oh, could you help me? I can't seem to get your ribbon off." Luka turned around and showed Marinette her ribbon just hanging there. She laughed.

"Sure." She stepped forward and Marinette got to work.

"You sounded incredible when you sang that last song." She said without looking at him. She was too busy unpinning. Luka blushed yet again. This girl has already made him blush more time in one day than he can count.

"Thanks. I'm not a singer though. I lost a bet."

"Well, you should reconsider that. Your voice is very calming, perfect for that song." Marinette stepped back. "All done." Luka turned around and rolled his shoulder's. He untied Marinette's hairband gave it back.

"No, keep till the next time we see each other."

"Why?"

"It's a promise to see each other again. It's my favorite so, take good care of it." Luka nodded.

"Are you hungry? Because I know a great ice cream shop if you'd like."

"Sure, I'd love that." There it was, the bright, soft smile she was so good at. It warmed him to see it. Luka said good-bye to his fellow band members and headed out with Marinette. The ice cream shop was about a twenty-minute walk away from the cafe. When they entered, Luka noticed how busy it was. "I guess 7:30 is the time to get ice cream." He said. He noticed a small table in the back and ran to it. He turned and waved at Marinette, beckoning her to come. She walked over.

"How did you see this? It's in the back."

"A benefit to being tall." They both laughed and walked over to order their ice cream. Marinette got two scoops of lavender, and Luka got two scoops of thyme ice cream. They sat and talked for about an hour. Marinette sighed and said,

"As much as I'd love to keep talking, I need to get home." She went into her purse and pulled out a sticky note pad and wrote down something. "Here." She pulled it off and gave it to Luka.

"My number as promised." She stood up and gathered her belongings. Luka stood up as well.

"I didn't even realize how late it got. I had a lot of fun talking with you though."

"I did too. We'll have to do it again."

"Yeah." They walked out and parted ways. Luka was excited about what the future had in store for him.

Those Ice cream flavors are a real thing in France, I did my research. I hope you like my little two-part story.

#miracuous ladybug #lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette

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theincompetentgenius · 5 years

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Hello! Can i have a “life generator” for the arcana please? :) I’m a bi 5’9 girl with curly brown hair and hazel eyes. I’m antisocial, and closed off to most people. I have a sarcastic and dirty sense of humor, and i’m childish. I love to playfully tease people. I’m a gryffindor, and quite stubborn. I get jealous easily. I LOVE animals. My hobbies are shopping, singing/piano, and archery. I’m a tomboy, and i live in hoodies. I’m honestly pretty touch starved. Thanks in advance!!

Thank you for being my first request! It took a lot longer than I expected, but I still had lots of fun doing this. I also realized how garbage my writing has become and how I lack any creativity, but that’s another issue for another time.

Thank you for your interest in the world of The Arcana! In a few moments, you will be reborn. Loading simulation in 3 …… 2…… 1……..

B A C K G R O U N D

You were born into a wealthy family where the pressures of society were the laws of the house. Your father was attempting the climb the unspoken social latter of Vesvusia and he could not risk having his children act out of line. Fortunately, he was constantly out mingling with the high-tiers, leaving you with eons of freedom. Your mother attempted to teach you the ways of a lady, but it was not long before you turned away from the pink ribbons and ran towards the bow and arrow. She soon came to accept your differences, but you did learn to enjoy certain aspects of being a lady. However, your father soon learned of your rather rebellious behavior and sent you to a center to become more ladylike. Although you despised the suffocating corsets and endless sewing, your piano and singing lessons kept you from falling apart.

F R I E N D S

Nadia, Navra, Nazali

As time passed, you had become one of the top pianists and vocalist in the entire community. What baffled the people was that you would only perform in a black tunic: a sign of protest against the center’s practices. The contrast in your talent and personality attracted a large audience, curious to see what you had to offer. One day, you had woken up to see the entire room emptied of its people. Gold ornaments and red carpets stood in their place. You were quickly notified that a few of the Satrinava sisters were coming to visit and your instructor wanted you to play for them. Not only were you nervous about playing in front of royal, but you were also worried about their judgy eyes analyzing your outlandish appearance. You even contemplated wearing a pink, puffy ballgown, but you chose to stay true to yourself and prepared for the event.”

“The three sisters strolled into the building, their presence more illuminating than the chandelier above your head. Once they were seated, you did not waste time with formal introductions. The audience of three listened in silence as your fingers danced on the piano keys and your voice soared across the room. You sang about your woes within the center, yearning for an ounce of freedom. Had you looked across the room, you would have noticed the wet film of their eyes. After your performance, Navra to you and grabbed your hand.

“That was the most beautiful I’ve ever heard in my life! You must play for me at my parties.” The strength of her handshake nearly ripped you apart.

“Leave the poor girl alone. You don’t want to scare her away already,” Nazali pulled her back.

Amid their bickering, you heard a cool voice from behind. “Do you feel imprisoned trying to live the life of a lady?” You spun around and saw a pair of red eyes staring back at you.

The blunt and sudden nature of the question had caught you off-guard. You had no intention of angering the princesses, but your tongue would not allow you to conform to their ways. The room went silent as the other sisters stopped their arguing and turned towards you. They were waiting for your answer.

“Yes,” You said.

The sisters exchanged glances. The pink-haired sister took the moment of silence to formally introduced herself as Nadia Satrinava, the youngest of the sisters. You curtsied in return, but her next question nearly knocked you off your feet.

“Would you like to perform at my palace? Where you are free to live as you like?”

Other friends: Portia, Mazelinka

R O M A N C E

As the royal musician, you were forced to interact with individuals who you would rather avoid after every show in the palace. Years had gone by and the only person you didn’t want to thrash was Portia. The rest were snobby, misogynistic, or outright stupid. However, there was one gem you had met during this time.

You had finished a romantic ballad for a smaller crowd that day. Nadia had asked you to perform as a part of her appreciation banquet to those working against the Red Plague. As you prepared to retire to your room, a young man with copper hair and an eye-patch appeared by your side.

“What a marvelous performance! Your voice is almost as beautiful as you.” A devilish grin was plastered over his face. It seemed more slappable than most. “Excuse me, where are my manners? My name is Dr. Julian Dovarak.“

“Sir, I’d like to know how you got past security,” Your voice was stone.

“That’s just one of my many talents. Let me tell you about how I nearly decapitated a monster with simply a bow and arrow.” You began to tune him out instinctively, yet you couldn’t ignore the charisma exuding from him. As he droned on, you decided to give him a chance. It was a matter of time before you were laughing in his tales. Dramatic, but entertaining.

“I liked your story, but I’m still calling security. You did invade my privacy after all,” You said.

He put his hands in the air. “There’s no need for that. I simply thought you enjoyed my company, but I may have misread the situation. I’ll be on my way.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I did enjoy your company. It’s just…. I could have it elsewhere. Especially since you seem to have no problem sneaking up on me when I’m alone”

It took him a moment to register the joke as he responded with confused laughter. Suddenly, his eyes grew wide and his cheeks were crimson. His confidence crumbled. There was nothing left of the old Julian; only a stuttering mess. You felt the muscles of your face pull an upward grin as laughter bubbled in your stomach. Never had you met someone so bold yet so flustered. So much for his bravado.

“I’m just teasing you. I wouldn’t call security on you, because you’re not as irritating as everyone else.” You laughed as he attempted to pull himself together.

He cleared his throat, prompting the return of his mischievous grin. “I’m flattered. Of course, if you would like a more private encounter, that can always be arranged.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

F I N A L F A T E

When the first round of accusations against Julian came around, you could not believe them. The man who had become so dear to you could not have committed murder. You weren’t sure what the details were, but your instincts told you that there was more to the story. However, it was impossible to find reliable answers when Julian had fled the city and the only witness was Consul Valerius. You wanted to search for him, but Portia held you back.

"Chasing him will only bring you more danger.”

Although you wanted to pack your bags and take the first ship to Julian’s location, you knew it was unreasonable and irrational. During Julian’s disappearance, your relationship with Portia grew stronger. The two of you would reminisce about the good times and the best of Julian’s embarrassing moments. Soon, the two of you were able to move past Julian and make terrific memories on your own. Life began to move smoothly again. The two of you spent lots of time running errands. After a few witty exchanges, you found yourself on the floor with tears in your eyes. Portia would clutch her stomach from all the laughter. Sometimes you felt that the two of you had become delirious, but no one ever enjoyed life by staying sane.

Yet one fateful day, you saw a flash of red and black zoom behind you. At first, you thought nothing of it. Probably some guards chasing after a thief or a child playing a game. However, the figure had stopped and you dropped your groceries. The infamous Dr. Dovarak was standing in front of you.

“Julian?”

Against your better nature, you ran after him. You already lost him once, you weren’t about to lose him again. But once you arrived at his spot, he had disappeared. You kicked the loose rubble beside you out of frustration. Your eyes had not been playing tricks on you; that was Julian. You went back to Portia and told her everything that you had seen. At first, she assumed you were messing around. However, she became uncertain as she saw the pleading look in your eyes.

That was not the last time you had seen the doctor. Your paths had crossed again when you walked into a rowdy tavern after a long day. All you wanted was a refreshing drink and some time away from the palace. Lost in your thoughts, you sat in the nearest booth and took a sip of your mug. You nearly spat it out when you looked to your right.

“What are you doing here?”

You were face-to-face with the man who you had been searching for all this time. But now that he was in front of you, there was something off about him. He seemed tired.

“Hello darling, long time no see. How is life? I’m sure it must be dandy without me.” He flashed his famous grin that you had come to love. A rush of anger seared in your stomach. The man had been missing for nearly three years, yet he acted as if his absence was a mere joke. Did he not realize the pain he had caused for you and his sister was unrepairable?

“No. Don’t play this game with me.” You gripped his wrist and demanded that he tell the truth. His smiley facade disappeared and he turned away. There was no way from him to explain that he had lost his memory without sounding insane or incriminating. All he could do was play the role of the villain.

But you were not giving up so quickly. Although you couldn’t get Julian to give you the information you wanted, the two of you began to meet more often (despite the risk of Julian getting caught). As he worked through his layers of problems, you stood by his side and helped lighten his darker days

You notified Nadia that you were no longer going to play for the palace and packed your bags, joining Julian in his quest to clear his name and learn the truth about Lucio’s murder. During this time, Julian was able to look past his fears and learned to confide in you. It was not long before you two had declared your love for each other and secured a relationship.

After Julian’s name had been cleared and the second wave of the Red Plague disappeared, the two of you decided to become pirates. After the drama in Vesuvia died down, Julian was craving some form of adventure. He asked you to come along with him as he could not see himself doing anything without your support. Although you were unsure of the chaos the new lifestyle would bring, you decided to join him. Julian bought a new boat while you recruited crewmates to keep the ship running smoothly. It was not long before you and Julian set out for the seas, enjoying the wild adventures each day would bring.

T H E E N D

#the arcana #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #portia devorak #navra #nazali #mazelinka #the arcana julian #the arcana nadia #the arcana portia #julian x reader #life simulation

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vol-ia · 7 years

Text

Write-tober 3

I sure did write this! Maybe skip this one if you’re uncomfortable with the idea of a boy being aggressively measured by another boy.

1532 words, MA 15+: suggestive themes.

Eve winced at the sound of tearing fabric, gritting his teeth and opening one eye to look down and survey the damage.

Dangit. His shirt was ripped along the outside seam, where it had caught on the handle of the kitchen drawer. He could see his own tan fur through the opening, and it was definitely ruined.

It was a first run band shirt from back before the band changed their logo, occupying the frustrating space of being nearly worthless and yet impossible to replace, and it was one of Eve’s favourite articles of clothing.

Naturally, it would have to be rescued, and Eve happened to know just the person for the job.

Hoo boy. Finn was going to be so insufferably pleased to see him.

***

Ribbons was located in a pretty nice part of the shopping district, just far enough from the main street that you were unlikely to stumble upon it unless you knew it was there. From the street it was just an unassuming door with some stairs visible through the glass, with a hanging wooden sign done up to look like a white ribbon with pink and blue highlights, with the word “Ribbons” spelled out in a tasteful font, and an even more tasteful “Tailor” in smaller font underneath.

The air inside was slightly crisp, perhaps a touch more air-conditioned than Eve would have preferred. Soft music, some kind of inoffensive piano, echoed down the stairwell. Eve clutched the small plastic bag with his shirt inside, along with a few other things that were over-worn, and took a steadying breath. The trick was to be firm and assertive, he did it all the time at work.

The shop itself was small but neat, racks of clothing near the front, a raised platform with an assortment of mirrors up against a dividing wall, and beyond that, hidden by a curtain, was presumably some kind of work-space. Past the dividing wall, Eve could see out the tops of three vertical windows out onto the main street.

“Could it be? Am I graced with his presence?”

“Consider yourself graced.”

There was movement behind the dividing wall, and then the curtain was swept aside, a tall and lithe Sylveon ducking under the fabric and out into open view, one of his ribbons gently letting the curtain back down behind him.

“Eve!” His smile was blindingly bright.

“Heya Finn, long time no- whoa!” Eve exclaimed, taken aback as the larger fox nearly lifted him off of his feet in a tight hug. “Aw come on, it hasn’t been that long!”

“Far too long!” Finn beamed down at Eve with his piercingly blue eyes. “Feels like it’s been years.”

“Well, it hasn’t! I’ve just been, you know, busy. Work.” Eve grinned, gently trying to pry Finn off of him and failing. One of his ribbons had wound its way around his back and was holding him close, showcasing their unusual strength for such delicate looking appendages, and another was attempting to relieve him of the bag he was holding.

“Yes! Work. Your time is quite precious, so I shan't waste a moment of it.” Finn glanced at the ribbon as it stole the bag and lifted it up for him to inspect. “You’re still wearing this?”

“Y-yeah. It’s a collectable.”

“It’s off the rack!” Another ribbon plucked the shirt from the pile and held it up. “And at least two sizes too large.”

“It’s comfortable!” Eve was beginning to feel a little indignant, and not just because of the judgement of his choice of baggy clothing for around the house. Finn seemed to have forgotten about the fact that he had pinned Eve up against him. He squirmed a little, trying to peel the ribbon off of his chest. “Can I, um-”

“Oh! Sorry.” Finn chuckled, the picture of forgetful innocence. The ribbon lifted itself away, and he stepped backward, although not too far. “They have a mind of their own, sometimes. Can I offer you some tea while I have a closer look at these?”

***

Eve cupped the mug in both hands for warmth, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Hmmm. Well, I can sew this and the seam won’t be too noticeable… All of these are really worn out though. You should let me draw you up an entire new w-”

“No, thank you.” Finn always tried to up-sell. He seemed to think that if every piece of clothing you owned wasn’t tailored, you were doing it wrong. “I just want it fixed.”

Finn pouted. “Fine. At the very least, can I take in the extra fabric? It’ll be more comfortable if it fits properly, I promise.”

Eve sipped his tea thoughtfully. “I guess…” He did tend to prefer loose, what with his voluminous mane and tail. Still, Finn’s white shirt was so closely fitted that it would have been impossible to tell where it ended and his short white fur started if he didn’t have the sleeves rolled up on his arms, and he always seemed perfectly comfortable.

Finn brightened up considerably. “Great!” He deftly plucked the mug out of Eve’s hands and placed it on the counter, his ribbons snaking out of nowhere and wrapping around both of Eve’s wrists. “Come on then! I’ll only be a minute.” He turned and made his way to the raised platform, his ribbons unceremoniously dragging Eve along behind him by the wrists.

“H-hey! D-didn’t you say it was just two sizes?” Eve stumbled, trying to pry the ribbons off as he was manhandled.

Finn rolled his eyes as he half guided, half lifted Eve onto the platform. “Pfft. That’s just a rough estimation! I don’t do estimates, I do precision.” The way he brandished the tape measure he had produced, it sounded like a threat.

The time for protesting was clearly over. Eve bit down on a squeak as his arm was lifted out of the way by a ribbon, the Eevee trying not to flinch as one end of the tape was held against his armpit and Finn’s other hand traced down his side to the waist. Finn glanced from the tape measure to the pen and notepad that had also been pulled from wherever he kept his tools, his ribbons taking notes as he leant closer, passing the tape around Eve’s waist and drawing it tight, eliciting a small gasp from Eve.

He clicked his tongue. “Tsk. Too many takeout nights, I think. Not that I mind, it’s cute on you.”

Okay, now Eve was blushing. Whatever weak protest he was trying to muster when the tape was shifted, squeezing down on his chest as Finn pulled it maybe a little tighter than was necessary. Eve went to tug at it, but the soft ribbon that had pulled his arm up hand never gotten around to letting go, and it gently fended him off.

“Take a deep breath for me, there’s a good boy.”

Eve hated that his breath caught in his throat, even as he did what he was told.

“Mmm, good. Now, don’t squirm too much this time.” The tape was pulled away, Finn cracking it like a miniature whip and stepping up onto the platform as well, looming over Eve with his implacable, predatory grin and his icy blue eyes. He bought both hands up and pulled the tape around the back of Eve’s neck, curling it around his throat tight enough that Eve swallowed reflexively, feeling it brush against his adam’s apple.

“Good.”

Finn held eye contact for just a moment, smiling at whatever he was imagining as he looked down at Eve, one finger holding the tape measure to the Eevee’s throat and the other holding the length of it a short way off, not unlike a leash.

And then, he stepped back down, pulling the tape away. The dull scratching noise of his ribbons taking notes receded as he walked back to the counter, putting his tools down and picking Eve’s mug back up.

“Alright, that’s all I need. Thanks for playing along!”

“Y-yeah. I, uh, n-no problem.”

Eve accepted the mug from Finn as he stepped down, trying not to shake too much. His mouth was dry, so he took a sip, grateful for the excuse to not look Finn in the eyes.

“I should be able to get everything done before close, unless there’s a rush at 4. You busy this evening?”

“No, I’m uh, I’m off today.”

“Perfect. You can stay here if you want, although watching me sew is unlikely to be very exciting.”

“Oh! I was going to, uh…” Go outside and take a few dozen deep, calming breaths, and maybe dunk my head in some cold water. “G-go catch a movie or something. I hadn’t decided.”

“That sounds like fun! If you were willing to wait, we could both go see something together after I’m done with work. It has been a while, after all.”

This seemed like a dangerous proposition.

“Uh, sure. Least I could do, for doing me a favor on such short notice.”

***

Later that day, Eve looked up if tailors needed to measure the collar at the throat. The general consensus online was: Nope.

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captaindeadpoet · 7 years

Text

BonRin Week Day 2: Secrets

Thanks

It had been difficult to sneak out of the dorm. It had been nearly impossible to get past the teachers and leave the campus. Yet Bon had managed to find the bus stop and lean against a street lamp, waiting to be picked up. His heart was racing and his chest was tight with guilt as he watched the scene around him. He had never left campus without permission before. It wasn’t as if he snuck out to do anything wrong, though; he just needed to buy some supplies. Then he would return immediately and no one would be the wiser.

Bon’s internal turmoil was interrupted by the bus pulling up, brakes squealing. The doors opened and he climbed aboard. Finding a comfortable seat near the back, Bon settled in for the ride. His thoughts began to gather once more.

This is stupid. I should have ordered it online. Leaving campus could get me a detention, Bon thought. What if someone saw me? They might tell Okumura-sensei. He would put me on probation. Or what if they told Rin? God, if Rin found out, he’d be pissed. Well, maybe not pissed, but definitely worried.

Bon shook his head. No one was going to find out. He’d make sure of that. No one would know he left and if they did, they wouldn’t know why. He was safe.

The bus came to a stop and Bon made his way to the front, walking down the steps. He began heading down the street, hands in his pockets and his head low. His destination was only a few minutes away. It was already in view, with its rich purple awnings and its racks of bright colors and patterns. His heart flutter with anticipation instead of nervousness and guilt.

Finally, Bon stood in front of the store, staring at all the new items in the window display. His lips curled up slightly as he walked in.

“Welcome to Fabric Palace! Can I - oh, Ryuuchan, it’s you. I haven’t seen you in here lately! You always order online.” A feminine voice said.

Bon scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah. Been busy with school. How you been, Katsuka?”

The woman, Katsuka, beamed. “I’ve been great! The shop is doing well. We even have a few classes now. Any chance you’ll come teach beginner’s sewing?”

“Nah. I got too much going on. I’m not even that good.”

“My daughter’s wedding gown begs to differ! You made it look so beautiful, Ryuuji. The beadwork was as stunning as the stitching, too!”

Bon looked to the ground, cheeks pink. “It wasn’t much. Just wanted to help. You made all those robes for the temple.”

“Enough about me, Ryuuchan! What are you doing lately? Do you like high school? Are you working on any new pieces?”

“School’s good. I’ve got straight A’s. I ain’t working on anything, but I want to make an apron.”

“You’re a good boy, Ryuuji. Let me show you some patterns. Who are you making it for?”

“Just some idiot. He likes to cook and he drops stuff in my dorm. Figured I should at least repay him.”

Katsuka smirked. She knew this ‘idiot’ was probably more than that, but she would keep it to herself. Bon would admit it when he was ready. She pulled a few patterns out of a filing cabinet and spread them on the counter for Bon to see. He cringed slightly.

“Katsuka, you got anything a little less…girly?” Bon asked.

Katsuka gave him a look. “What do you mean?”

“I like the patterns, but they’re kinda all ruffles and ribbon. I just want something a little more masculine. Rin’s kind of weird about that stuff sometimes. Plus the moron is prone to catching things on fire. I’m not putting that much effort into something that’ll end up destroyed.”

“Ah, so his name is Rin. I guess I could give you the pattern for a plain one. It won’t be as fun, though.”

Bon looked over the patterns once more. Maybe something a bit feminine wouldn’t be so awful. After all, Rin would probably look good in something frilly, maybe a baby blue apron with some pretty ribbon piping. Bon picked up a pattern for a simple apron with a ruffled edge. It would look nice.

“Good choice. I’m sure Rin will like it.” Katsuka said.

“Maybe. He gets defensive about people thinking he’s feminine.” Bon said.

“Sounds like a boy I know. About sixteen, looks like a delinquent, hates people knowing that he can sew because he thinks people will make fun of him for being girly. Let me tell you something: boy and girl activities don’t exist. Sure, you’ve got masculine and feminine, but that’s preferences. Anyone can do anything.”

Bon frowned and chose to ignore her. “Okay. I need baby blue fabric for this piece and maybe a white patterned piece for the pockets. Have anything that looks like toile? And lace piping.”

“And the genius is back. Follow me.”

Bon followed Katsuka through the aisles, picking out his materials. He couldn’t wait to see Rin’s face when he saw it.

****

“Nii-san, I will be back late tonight. Please stay in the dorm.” Yukio said.

Rin nodded as he watched Yukio shut his briefcase. His brother had nothing to worry about; Rin planned on staying in all night. He had his own plans, plans so shameful that he couldn’t even tell Yukio. Rin felt hot just thinking about them.

“No problem, Four-Eyes! I’ll make bentos for tomorrow!” Rin babbled happily.

Yukio offered a soft smile. “That sounds nice. Have fun.”

“Be careful, okay, Yukio?”

“Of course, Rin. I promise.”

With that, Yukio left for his mission, closing the door behind him. Rin rushed to the window. He watched, waiting for Yukio to leave the dorm entirely. Yukio turned back to wave at him and went on his way.

With his twin gone, Rin could finally do it.

Reaching under the bed, Rin pulled out a plain cardboard box and lifted the top. He began pulling out its contents, spreading them across the bed. Careful fingers ran over each item, enjoying the feel of soft fabric on his skin.

“Blue or yellow?” Rin asked himself, looking between his choices.

Before him were two simple dresses, one in blue and one in yellow. The blue one was Rin’s favorite; it had capped sleeves and the skirt fell to his knees, the mesh-like fabric swishing freely. The yellow one had its merits, too, though. It was sleeveless and the skirt was bowed out slightly, giving it a more formal look. It had a bit of glitter, which always made Rin feel pretty.

Rin’s hand hovered over both for a few moments before picking up the blue one. It would be the best one to cook in; Shiro had always called it his housewife dress.

The memory made Rin smile. The old man had found out about his hobby only a year after he had started it. He never teased Rin for liking feminine clothes. In fact, he had bought Rin a few dresses and skirts when he had the money to.

Pushing away the sadness swelling within his heart, Rin began to undress. He pulled on a pair of appropriate underwear - a pair Shiro had gotten him after he had caught Rin wearing boxers with a skirt - settling them on his hips before pulling the dress over his head. He smoothed out the skirt, twirling a bit.

Not bad. Wonder if I could find some cheap heels to go with it. It would probably make my ass look great, Rin thought, laughing to himself. He reached into the box and pulled out a pair of white flats, slipping them onto his feet. They would do for now.

Before he left for the kitchen, Rin stood in front of the mirror and grabbed the clip Bon had given him. He pinned his bangs back, wondering what Bon would think of his outfit. He’d probably get upset and say ‘what the hell are you wearing? Don’t you have any decency,’ Rin thought.

Rin headed to the kitchen, set on making rice balls for tomorrow’s bentos. He began taking out ingredients and placing them on the counter, ignoring Ukobach’s questioning eyes. Kuro hopped onto the counter and nuzzled Rin’s arm.

“You look pretty, Rin!” Kuro exclaimed.

Rin blushed. “Aw, thanks, Kuro.”

“Are you gonna make chicken rice balls? Can I have some?”

“You little jerk! You called me pretty for food!”

“Nuh-uh! I called you pretty because I meant it. Food was an afterthought.”

“Fine. I’ll save you some, okay?”

“Yay! Thanks, Rin!”

Rin smiled, stroking the demon’s fur before shooing him out of the kitchen. He began his work, humming happily and swaying his hips to make his dress swish around his legs.

****

It had taken some time to find a place to work on the apron in peace. The dorm had been out of the question; Konekomaru and Shima could barge in at any moment and catch Bon in the act. The library didn’t make the cut, either. Bon’s machine would be too loud and it also had the added risk of being full of people that could see him sewing. So, he searched high and low and finally found a fairly rundown classroom that he could use and have total privacy. He set up shop in the back corner and started his project.

“Tch, how tall is Okumura? He’s one of the shortest guys in the class. Screw it, I’ll just make it a large. If he doesn’t like it, he can kiss my ass.” Bon muttered to himself, cutting out the pattern carefully.

He began pinning the thin paper to the fabric, a frown of concentration on his face. Maybe he could make the bottom half of the apron flare out a little. It would only require adding onto the pattern slightly, so Bon pulled out a measuring tape and began drawing. He put a large curve on the bottom of the apron, giving it a dress-like appearance. Bon smirked. Wouldn’t Rin look cute, making his cookies and octopus hotdogs in his pretty apron?

When the hell did I start thinking Okumura would be cute ever? He looks like a monkey, Bon thought.

A small voice in the back of Bon’s mind seemed to laugh at him. Bon ignored it in favor of cutting the fabric. Once he had it cut and displayed, he fired up the machine and began the task of sewing it together.

****

“You made three bentos. Are going to eat extra tomorrow?” Kuro asked, nibbling at a rice ball.

“Huh? Nah. I made one for Bon.” Rin said absently, sprinkling some salt in the pot in front of him.

“For Bon? Why?”

Rin shrugged. “I wanted to. As a thank you for the hair clip.”

“But you made him cookies already. And sushi. And omelettes that time he came to see Yukio and he wasn’t here.”

“Look, Kuro, are you complaining about leftovers?”

Kuro shook his head. “No! But Shiro told me people cook for people they like. So do you like Bon?”

“That stupid rooster head? Hell no.”

“But you cook for him a lot. Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. Besides, Yukio would kill Bon if he ever thought I liked him.”

“Yukio wouldn’t be mad, I think, if you liked him.”

Rim smiled softly. “Probably not. But I don’t have to worry about it anyway. Since I don’t like anyone. Besides, I’m not into guys.”

“Liar! You have all those mangas with the boys kissing and holding hands!”

“Shut up and don’t go through my things, you rotten little cat!”

Kuro laughed as Rin pouted. Rin was so silly; why couldn’t he just admit that he had a crush? If he did, Bon would be able to see him in all of his dresses and skirts and then Bon could tell Rin how pretty he was. Actually, now that Kuro thought about it, he had never seen Rin wear these clothes near other people, not even Yukio. It was unfortunate. Rin always looked happy in his dresses.

****

Two days later, Bon’s masterpiece was complete. It had taken six hours, using a chair as a mannequin, and pricking his fingers so much that he bled, but it looked beautiful. He took a picture and sent it to Katsuka. She had sent back a winky face and the words ‘I bet Rin will love it. Might even get you a kiss.’ Bon grit his teeth and shoved his phone in his pocket. Sometimes Katsuka could be annoying as hell.

He put the apron in a plain cardboard box despite wanting to wrap it nicely. He didn’t want Rin thinking he actually put effort into it. That could give him away, and then the little hellspawn might think Bon actually liked him. That would be mortifying.

Alright, time to drop it off. That bastard better like it. I should make him wear it everywhere with how much time it took, Bon thought as he headed towards the Okumura dorm. The box tucked beneath his arm felt heavier than it should have been. Maybe it was due to the anxiousness Bon was feeling over someone finding out he had sewn the garment. Or, perhaps more likely, it was Katsuka’s words that had him worried. Did he like Rin? Is that why he had put so much effort into the apron?

****

Music blared from Rin’s phone, filling the kitchen with obnoxious bubble gum pop and techno beats. His black skirt swayed as he danced through the room, mixing ingredients and chopping vegetables. Ukobach was manning the oven, stirring simmering pots of sauce and porridge. Kuro was sitting on the counter watching them work, enjoying his job as taste tester.

“Yo, Ukobach, can you add some cinnamon to that pudding? Yukio likes it to be really strong.” Rin said.

Ukoback nodded and grabbed the spice, dumping in a healthy amount before mixing it in. Rin smiled in thanks and returned to chopping celery. Yasai no nikumaki was on the menu for tomorrow’s bentos and they were as time consuming as they were delicious. He was glad he had Ukobach’s help; he’d never get done otherwise.

“You’re making three again?” Kuro asked.

“Yeah, why?” Rin asked.

“Because you’ve been making three all week. Who’s this one for?”

Rin looked away from the cat, hiding his face. “Just someone.”

“Oh! For Bon!”

Rin groaned. “Yes, okay? It’s not because I like him or anything, though! He just helped me with some homework!”

“Whatever you say.”

Rin sighed, frustrated. Kuro was so fixated on him liking Bon. So what if he made the guy food? Rin liked cooking. Sometimes he had extra. It wasn’t some conspiracy. Rin pulled at his skirt a bit before bending down to grab another chopping board. The last thing he wanted was anyone seeing his panties, even if the only people around him were people that knew that he wore them.

Pulling out a package of beef from the refrigerator, Rin began slicing it into thin sheets to make the rolls. He threw a slice to Kuro, laughing as the cat scarfed it down.

“Yum! Your food is so good, Rin. I bet everyone loves it!” Kuro praised.

“I hope so. I used to make this for Dad all the time. He’d laugh because I made the carrots look like hearts. He said it was literally putting love into the food. I think he was crazy. Like I’d do that for him.” Rin said.

“You miss him a lot. I do, too.”

Rin smiled softly. “I guess we need to eat these in his honor, then, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Silence fell over the kitchen for a moment before Rin decided it was too much.

“Hey, being sad in the kitchen is not allowed! I’m going to crank up the Girl’s Generation!” He exclaimed.

****

Bon knocked on the door to the dorm no less than twenty times before giving up. He looked up to Rin’s window, hoping to see the other boy. Normally, Rin would be at his desk, twirling a pencil, chin resting in his hand. Whenever Bon saw him, he would flip him off, and Rin would respond with a stupid face. However, the curtains were closed. Bon huffed. He knew Rin was there, so what the hell was he doing that was so important that he couldn’t answer the door?

“Okumura! Come open the door, you moron!” Bon yelled, banging on the door.

No response came. He grabbed the doorknob and twisted, finding it open. Bon sighed, shaking his head. Rin really was an idiot, keeping his door unlocked when he was home alone. Bon stepped inside and toed off his shoes before making his way up the stairs.

He find Rin and Yukio’s room and knocked on the door. Again, there was no answer. Bon tried once more, receiving the same response.

“Damn it, Okumura! I’m not gonna wait around for you all night!” Bon snapped.

Bon stomped back down the stairs to continue his search. If Rin wasn’t in his room, the next possible place he could be was the kitchen. Bon walked down the hall, smirking when he heard music. He had found Rin. He quickened his pace, stepping into the kitchen only a minute later.

When he caught sight of Rin, he froze.

The black haired boy was dancing at the counter, his back to Bon. A knee-length black skirt was settled on his hips, swaying as Rin shook and shimmied. Black patent leather flats covered his feet, giving them an almost dainty look. A baseball shirt covered his top half, but it was about two sizes too big, causing it to fall off his shoulder. Bon gulped. What the hell had he walked into?

“Kuro, what’s wrong? I can’t understand you when you talk like that, it sounds like hissing.” Rin said.

Bon’s eyes flitted to the cat on the counter. He seemed to glare at Bon, as if he was personally offended by his presence. The cat let out a loud meow, finally causing Rin to turn around.

“Oh my God, Kuro, you can have some when -” Rin began.

His words trailed off as his blue eyes met Bon’s brown. Rin felt his cheeks heat up and he tried to pull down his skirt more, but the damage was done. Bon was staring at him, eyes fixated on his skirt, face unreadable.

“What the hell, Okumura?” Bon asked after a few minutes.

“Look, it’s not what you think - you know what? I don’t have to explain anything to you. Get out.” Rin said.

“Wait, I-”

“I said get out!”

“Shut up for a second! I don’t give a shit what you wear! Why didn’t you answer the goddamn door when I knocked?”

Rin’s eyes widened. “You - you aren’t mad? Not even a tiny bit?”

“I’m mad that you didn’t open the door.”

“But you aren’t mad about the skirt. You aren’t going to make fun of me.”

Bon snorted. “Like this is the weirdest thing you’ve done.”

Rin let out a sigh of relief. “Please don’t tell anyone. Not even Yukio knows, okay? You can’t tell.”

“Whatever. Here. This is for you. Thanks for the food.”

Bon tossed the box in his hands to Rin and shoved his hands in his pockets. Blue eyes looked at him curiously before opening the gift. Rin grinned as he pulled out the apron.

“Wow! This is so cool! Thanks, Bon!” Rin exclaimed.

Bon grimaced. “Don’t call me that. We aren’t friends.”

“Did you make it? I’ve never seen an apron like this.”

“What? Do I look like I know how to sew, Okumura? God, you’re a damn moron.”

Rin watched Bon’s eyes dart around, avoiding his eyes, and his smile widened. So Bon had made it. Rin didn’t see what he was embarrassed about; the apron looked awesome. Rin put the garment on, tying it around his waist.

“You’re pretty good. Who knew your big mitts could handle a needle?” Rin asked.

“I already told you I didn’t make it! And who knew your hairy damn monkey legs could look good in a skirt?” Bon shot back.

“You think I look good?”

Bon spluttered for a moment before crossing his arms. “No way in hell. Shut up.”

The two were silent for a moment, not looking at each other.

“Hey, uh, thanks. For the apron. And for promising not to tell.” Rin said quietly.

“Thanks for the food. You better keep your mouth shut about me being able to sew.” Bon said gruffly.

Rin simply nodded, taking what he could get. He smoothed out his apron and got back to work. Bon stood awkwardly in the doorway, contemplating what to do.

“Grab a knife, stupid. The cucumbers won’t cut themselves.” Rin said.

Bon grumbled as he followed Rin’s orders. He supposed he could do what the guy wanted just this once. It would be their secret.

#bonrinweek2017 #bonrinweek #bonrin #blue exorcist #fanfic

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tipsycad147 · 5 years

Text

How To Work Magic With Poppets

Julie Hopkins

In the witchcraft tradition, poppets are dolls made to represent a specific person for a magical purpose. Each poppet is unique because it is made by the witch who is casting the spell. Many people associate this magical tool with curses but it’s like any other magical tool. Sure, poppets can be used to curse but they’re also used for healing, manifesting, and protection spells.

How To Make A Poppet

Poppets are simple to make and it’s a fun, creative process. You don’t have any special materials. If you don’t have something, improvise. It doesn’t matter if the doll looks like the person it’s representing. Its power comes from the intention and energy you pour into it as you’re making and working with your poppet.

Making your poppet is part of your magical practice so you may want to create a sacred space in the area you’re planning on putting together your poppet. This can be done by using your preferred method.

Materials

To assemble your poppet-making materials, head to your local craft store, rummage through your cabinets, or go for a walk to collect interesting looking sticks and leaves. The main thing is to select materials you think will support your purposes. If you’re looking to cast a quick spell, you can opt to shape a doll out of aluminium foil. Thinking of performing a banishing spell? Make a doll out of meat and feed it to your dog. The possibilities are endless.

Also, consider the way you’re planning on disposing of your poppet after your spell. If you’re planning on sending your doll away in running water, make it out of natural materials like sticks or corn husks. If you plan on keeping your poppet and using it for multiple spells, use more durable materials like felt and thread.

Think about what colours, herbs, crystals, and oils would strengthen the intention of your poppet. Other, more unconventional objects can also lend power to your poppet such as responsibly sourced feathers to draw on the element of air, graveyard dirt, fur from your favourite pet, or your favourite bottle of nail polish. Each item should hold some kind of meaning to you. You might want to add an item or two that connects the poppet to the person it is representing—whether it’s you or someone else. It isn’t necessary to use items from yourself or another person. You can connect and activate a poppet using only energy.

Here’s a list of materials used to make poppets.

For the doll:

Felt

Cloth

Old t-shirts or socks worn by the person being represented

Burlap

Needle and thread (or embroidery floss, yarn dental floss, etc.)

Glue

Clay

Leaves

Sticks

Corn husks

Wax

Foil

Meat

Paper or cardboard

Potatoes or other food

For the stuffing:

Herbs

Crystals

Leftover spell candle wax

Magical dirt

Seeds

Coins or paper money

Glitter

Cotton balls anointed with oil

Ribbon

Flower petals

Tacks, safety pins, or other pointy objects for curses

Tissue paper

Dehydrated vegetables that support your intention (For example, use jalapeños for hexes and orange peels for happiness spells.)

A picture of the person being represented

Pieces of paper with sigils, incantations, or affirmations written on it

Magical tools such as runes or pendulums

Photos or images from magazines that support your intention

Assembling Your Poppet

You can find your own way of doing this, depending on what medium you’re using. For cloth, felt, or old clothes, you can follow this method.

1. Lay two pieces of fabric on top of each other.

2. Using chalk (or whatever works on your material), trace an outline of your poppet. Many times, this looks a bit like a gingerbread man, but if that doesn’t suit you, make it whatever shape you want.

Note: You may want to use a piece of cardboard to become a template of sorts. Then you can trace around it to make more poppets in the future and have them all be the same size and shape.

3. Cut out your fabric.

4. Add any decorative stitching to the outside of your poppet, such as red embroidery floss for a mouth or sewing on two buttons for eyes.

5. Stitch along the outside edge of your poppet and leave an opening of an inch or two. It doesn’t matter if you hand sew your poppet or use a sewing machine. Use what you’re most comfortable with. Start anywhere you want along the border of your poppet, but take into account where you plan on stuffing the poppet.

Note: Where you choose to stuff your poppet can add power to your intention. For a creativity or mental clarity spell, you might want to leave the opening by the head. For a healing spell, leave the opening nearest to the area in need of healing. For a fertility spell, leave a space between the poppet’s legs.

6. Turn your poppet inside out, so the seam is on the inside. (If you like the look of your poppet with the seam exposed, leave it as is.)

7. Once you’ve stitched your poppet, stuff it with whatever materials you’ve selected. As you add each ingredient, think about what kind of energy it will bring to your poppet.

8. Sew up the top of your poppet.

Decorating Your Poppet

Decorate your doll with markers, paint, or attaching bits of coloured fabric for clothes and hair. Draw sigils on your poppet or write out your entire intention along its body. If you’re familiar with runes, draw a rune on the doll. You can also use Tarot symbols. Write the name of the card that holds the energy you’d like your poppet to take on. Traditionally, the cards in the Major Arcana are considered the most powerful. The symbols of the tarot suits (cups, pentacles, wands, or swords) may add energy to your poppet as well.

If you haven’t already added something to your poppet that connects it to the person you’re casting the spell for, do so now. This could be as simple as tying a ribbon around the doll’s waist in that person’s favourite colour. In fact, if you activate your poppet properly, you can connect your poppet to the person it’s representing using energy alone.

Activating Your Poppet

There are a variety of ways you can do this, but we’ll cover the most common methods. The first step when activating your poppet is to state your intention, aloud or in your head.

Here are some examples:

If the poppet is representing you, you can say something like, “I am in perfect health and move through my life with abundant energy.”

If you’re casting a spell to manifest your ideal home, you can say something like, “I live in a two-story log cabin in the mountains of western North Carolina, and everything fell into place with perfect timing.”

For a poppet representing someone else, you can state your intention in the third person. “My mom attracts an abundance of money through unexpected channels and she uses it to enjoy a relaxing vacation in Hawaii.”

Sometimes you won’t know who your poppet is representing. This happens if your intention is to send a curse back to its sender. In that case, you can say something like, “This person who cursed me will now feel the full effect of their curse. I am free to release the energy of their curse.”

Pins, Wands, Or Athame

In secular witchcraft, pins can be used to activate your poppet. You can do this with any pin or tack, but I love the pins with the coloured balls on the end so you can incorporate your personal colour associations during your spellcasting.

Think of what part of the body you’d need to focus your energy on to fulfil your intention. To heal a broken heart, you might want to place a pin in the heart area of your poppet. As you do this, visualise energy moving into that one point on your poppet. Allow yourself to feel any emotions that come up as you focus all of your energy.

You can also use the tip of a wand or athame to direct energy to a specific point on your poppet’s body.

Ideal for: healing spells, manifestations associated with different body parts (Head, heart, third eye, etc)

Visualisation

After you’ve stated your intention, you can hold your poppet between your palms and visualise a scene from your life once your desire has manifested. If this poppet is for another person, visualise exactly what you’d like that person to experience because of your spell. In your mind’s eye, see where that person is when your spell manifests, what that person is doing, and how that person reacts to what he or she is experiencing.

Do this for about ten minutes, or until you feel you’ve fully communicated your intention and desired results to your poppet.

Ideal for: manifesting, curses, hexes, and protection spells

Creating A Poppet Altar

Arrange a few magical tools around or on top of your poppet to activate it with your intention. Crystals are an excellent choice for this. You can make your altar as simple or elaborate as you want. Sit at your poppet altar and meditate or leave your poppet on your altar until your spell has manifested.

Ideal for: any kind of poppet magic

How To Dispose Of A Poppet

If your spell is complete or you no longer need to use your poppet, you can dispose of your poppet.

First, you must separate the poppet from your own energy or the energy of the person it represents. Sprinkling salt on the poppet is one of the simplest ways to accomplish this. Remember to state your intention as you’re doing this and thank the poppet for the magical work it helped you perform.

You can say something like, “I am separate from this poppet, now and forever, and I thank it for its help.”

Then you have a few options for disposing of your poppet. You can burn it if all the materials are safe to burn. Another option is to bury the doll.

If the poppet is made of materials you found in nature, you can send the poppet down a moving body of water.

The last option is to throw your poppet out in the trash. You can cut up or disassemble your poppet if you want before doing this, but it’s unnecessary. As long as you thank and disconnect from your poppet, it’s safe to throw it out.

Note: If your poppet represents another person, I recommend you hold on to it in case you need to reverse or end that spell.

That’s all you need to get started making and using poppets in your witchcraft! Enjoy this creative magical project and consider doing this during your next full moon ritual.

https://thetravelingwitch.com/blog/how-to-work-magic-with-poppets

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clan-fuildarach · 7 years

Text

musical chairs (part 1)

in this important lore update (so important that i’m even daring to use the title field omg), fallon and emiliano’s situation predictably blows up in their faces.

(part 2) (part 3)

Sometimes Fallon wondered what life was like in most normal dragon clans. If he'd been born into just an average clan living on the edge of the Starwood, he'd have been happier. Just himself, Emiliano, and their daughter, without any external pressures or forces to speak of.

Maybe such desires were cowardly. Fallon was used to wading into the mire of court politics with a polite smile on his face; it had been his entire life for a long time. What made it so unbearable now?

Thea tested her claws on the wooden chest in the corner of his bedroom, the paper tags on her back crinkling with each movement.

“Hey,” he said, pausing in the act of winding his cravat around his neck, “hey, you stop that. Be nice.”

She watched him with wide purple eyes and babbled something incomprehensible; the only language she knew was some kind of Shadow-speak, but over the past few days she'd begun to pick up a few words from Fallon's language; her parents' names, the words for yes and no.

Abandoning the box, she pounced on one of the stuffed animals Iriangi had brought over for her; a pink pony that had been almost the same size as Thea herself at first. Now, though, the toy – and the room in general – was starting to look alarmingly small beside the growing guardian. She crushed the fleece pony against her chest frill and spoke to it in a shrill, adoring tone.

She should have been able to shapeshift, but the wound on her back made it impossible. Emiliano had promised to find a better place to hide her, but that wasn't what either of them really wanted.

Fallon glanced back at his wardrobe mirror and tied off his cravat. He gathered back his hair with a ribbon and tied it neatly at the nape of his neck. Leaning closer to the mirror he neatened up the few stray curls that insisted on sticking up at the top of his head. Usually he enjoyed the pageantry of a royal ball, the opportunity to exist in the same room as Emiliano for once, without drawing suspicion, but tonight was different. He didn't want to leave Thea behind.

“Dad!” she said, tugging at the hem of his coat. He turned quickly, before she tore it. She held up her beloved stuffed pony, eyes wide. One of its legs had parted company with the rest of its body and hung by a thread, the stuffing leaking out.

“Oh no,” he said, taking it from her. “Oh, dear.” There was no point in admonishing her for playing too rough, given her size and strength it would have been hard for her not to damage the toy. “Don't worry – oh, don't worry, sweetheart, I'll have it sent off for repairs. It's easily fixed, we'll just get someone to sew the leg back on.”

There was a knock on the door. Fallon went to answer it, indicating for Thea to move aside, so that she would not be visible to anybody at the door. She knew the drill by now, but it was getting increasingly difficult for her to do so without at least some of her body sticking out.

But their visitors were Emiliano and Iriangi, so there was no need for alarm.

“Thank you so much for this,” Fallon said to Iriangi in undertone, as Emiliano immediately went to greet Thea.

“It's nothing,” Iriangi said, her expression softening as she glanced over at Thea. “I'll look after her for tonight while you two are at the ball.” Her eyes fell on the broken toy in Fallon's hand. “And I'll sew that up for you, too.”

“Oh, would you?” Fallon said, with a sigh of relief.

“Of course.” Iriangi now turned and observed the rest of the bedroom, her eyebrows rising. “My gods, the state of this place!”

“I know, I know.” Fallon glanced back at the room with a rueful grin. It looked like... well, it looked like someone had been hiding a very lively baby guardian there for a week. The curtains and bedspread had been shredded, and even some of the flagstones bore claw-marks.

“She can't stay here,” Iriangi said quietly. “It's not fair on either of you.”

This wasn't news to anyone, so all Fallon could do was nod in fervent agreement.

“What was that?” Emiliano said, as Thea said something to him in a loud, petulant tone. “He did what? Fallon, how could you?” He pressed a hand to his mouth in mock surprise, returning to stand by Fallon and Iriangi. “Thea says you broke her pony.”

“It sounds like Thea's telling tall tales,” Fallon said. It was hard not to smile.

Emiliano laughed, his hands moving down to clasp Fallon's waist. He stretched up as much as he could and pressed a quick kiss to Fallon's cheek.

Then just as quickly Emiliano broke away, grabbing the door handle. “Okay, I have to go – Corin's probably waiting – I'll see you later, Thea, okay? Be good.” He blew her a kiss, which she clumsily reciprocated.

This was the part Fallon hated. The brief, shining glimpse into his ideal life that ended all too soon.

“And,” Emiliano said, already halfway out of the room, “I'll see you at the ball.” He flashed Fallon a dashing smile. And with that Emiliano was gone, racing away to attend to his job with a final yelled “Thanks, mum!” over his shoulder.

Fallon remained standing on the spot, vaguely overwhelmed.

Iriangi laughed. “I haven't seen that boy so happy in years.” Shaking her head in apparent amusement, she waved Fallon over to the door. “You'd better not be late, either. The sooner you get there, the sooner you can come home.”

“True, I guess.” He opened the door. “You two have fun, okay? And if anyone comes knocking, remember what to do. Iriangi, I can't thank you enough-”

“Just go!” she said. “And don't be silly, you know I love spending time with Thea. Of the two of us, I think you have it the worst off tonight.” And with a final smile, she pushed the door shut after him.

He gathered himself in the corridor outside, trying to plant an impassive look on his face. Taking a deep breath, he turned and started to walk away, but a muffled cough made him pause. He scanned the corridor – there at one end was a uniformed guard leaning against the wall, reading a book, chewing absently on the end of a pen.

That was strange. This wasn't a normal guard outpost. The guard glanced briefly over at Fallon, nodded, and turned her attention back to her book.

Fallon couldn't tell exactly why, but this struck him as wrong. His instincts were telling him something but he couldn't quite put his finger on what.

Calm down, he told himself, it's just a guard sneaking off for some leisure time.

But the wariness of years of living in secret at the court, the threat of execution hanging over his head, had never abandoned him. He trusted his instincts over his common sense.

So he walked towards the guard and raised a hand in greeting. “Hello!” he said.

She glanced back over at him. “Can I help you?”

Oh. His heart started to pound, but his expression remained perfectly at ease. “I was wondering why you've been posted here? Is there some kind of threat I should be aware of?”

She shook her head. “No, I just wanted a quiet corner to read.” She held up her leather-bound book.

“Oh, that's a relief. Well, I'll be going – enjoy the book.”

He put his back to her and very quickly strode away. As he passed his own front door again he scanned the lock and, yes, there were gouges in the metal that suggested the use of several lock-picks rather than a single key, like the one he used.

As he walked towards the ballroom, he turned over everything he knew for sure in his mind. First of all, the guard. Normal palace guards did not act like that around nobility. If that guard had been as disrespectful to another noble, she could have lost her job. She should have bowed and addressed him by his full title. But she hadn't.

And there was the book. What guard could afford a book? Bound in leather with golden lettering on the front. And why the pen? What did she have to write about?

Distant music wound through the air. Nobles in garishly-coloured clothes gathered just outside the ballroom doors, waiting for them to be thrown open. As several dragons instantly descended on Fallon and called out greetings, he regretted not going back to warn Iriangi that she was being spied on.

Just act normal. At least this came naturally to him. He chatted idly with the court nobility. They demanded he show them some of his card tricks and he obliged, producing an ace of spades from a nobleman's front pocket, all the while hoping – desperately wishing – that Iriangi and Thea were safe.

The doors swung open, revealing a hall bedecked in pink and purple, which were the latest fashionable colours of the court. Enchanted rose petals fell from the ceiling. It was all very nice, but Fallon hardly noticed it.

Queen Rosa and Lord Alejandro led the first dance, to wild applause. Fallon scanned the hall for Corin and spotted him near one of the long buffet tables, chatting to another boy his own age. Emiliano was nearby, his hands clasped behind his back and his eyes on Corin, ever the straight-laced bodyguard.

A servant brushed past with a tray of wine glasses. Fallon took a glass, but didn't drink any. He needed to keep his wits about him.

He moved through the crowd, carefully avoiding the dance-floor as more of the nobles moved in to take their place with their partners. At the buffet table he set down his glass and wandered along the table until Corin and the other boy were in earshot.

“But if they're dead, how can they still walk around?” Corin was saying.

Angelo, the other boy, nodded eagerly. “Well that's why I came to Dragonhome! There's something about the land here that makes dying different – did you know there's a whole village of ghosts in the east? We should go there some day!”

“G-ghosts?” Corin said. “They're real?”

“Just as real as the walking corpses,” Angelo said excitedly. He was the first to notice Fallon's approach. Quickly dropping this rather morbid topic of conversation, Angelo quickly bowed.

Emiliano frowned questioningly at Fallon over Corin's head.

“Good evening, Your Highnesses,” Fallon said, raising his voice over the music. “I hope you're both well. It's – it's a beautiful celebration, isn't it?” As he spoke he met Emiliano's eyes and tried his utmost to non-verbally communicate the danger. The boys were too young to really notice, which was a blessing.

Emiliano's skin went pale under his crackle. He tapped Corin's shoulder. “Please excuse me, Your Highness. I have to go and... check the food for poison.”

“Poison?” Corin's voice was almost comically alarmed. “Oh my gods – yes, please do. Thank you, Emiliano.”

Emiliano turned and vanished into one of the concealed serving doors that led between the hall and the kitchens. Angelo's bodyguard – a gruff, silent pearlcatcher who probably did not think much of Emiliano just then – moved to stand between the two boys, watching over them both.

Fallon waited as long as he dared, then, when most of the nobles were distracted by the dancing, left the hall by the main doors and made a beeline for the kitchens.

He did not notice the armoured guard that peeled away from the crowd and followed him out.

The kitchens were chaotic, every chef and server struggling to meet the demands of the ball. Fallon would be noticed for sure if he went in, so he backtracked a few paces and found one of the hidden doors in the corridor outside. During his time living under Xandra's reign, constantly forced to hide and travel in secret, he had learned the layout of the hidden passages by heart.

He backtracked through the narrow, dim passageway, occasionally ducking out of the way of passing servants, until he bumped into Emiliano.

There was no time for greetings. Emiliano grabbed his hand and clung on. “What's wrong?” he said hoarsely. Thin bars of light from the adjacent ballroom shone through the wall, falling in a striped pattern over Emiliano's face.

“I – I think someone's spying on me,” Fallon said. Breathless, he ran through the events of the evening. “Iriangi doesn't know, someone needs to get a message to her in secret – can you do that? Do you know anyone who could?”

Emiliano bit his lip. “I don't – I... I suppose I could bribe one of the guards...”

“Good. Take anything from my vault, I don't care,” Fallon said.

The distant music faded away, replaced by a far livelier tune. Suddenly, Emiliano growled under his breath and struck the wall with a shaking fist. Dust rained down from the dim rafters.

“He did this,” he snapped.

There was no question as to whom Emiliano was referring. “I know,” Fallon said. “But we can't act reckless, we have to be smart-”

“He's in there right now,” Emiliano said, indicating the ballroom. “And I have a sword. He doesn't.”

“You'd be executed,” Fallon said, grabbing Emiliano's other hand, to hold him back. “Think about Thea.”

Emiliano nodded rapidly, screwing his eyes shut. “Yes – you're right. I'll go and see if I can find a guard with no morals, you get back in there and keep an eye on Atropa.”

He leant forwards and kissed Fallon again, this time with a desperate urgency and a whispered plea to be safe. Then he was gone, racing away down the dark passage.

Fallon counted along with the music, waiting until at least three minutes had passed before he dared follow Emiliano out. As he walked he scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to wipe away any trace of Emiliano – a rogue crackle stain could be their undoing – and under his breath he whispered plausible excuses for his absence to himself. He couldn't shake his doubt – maybe he'd been wrong to include Emiliano at all, maybe that was suspicious...

Raised voices sounded from the ballroom. The nobles were cheering again; presumably the queen was leading another dance. Rosa was a rare sight at events like this and she always drew awe and adulation from the crowds.

Someone shouted nearby. Fallon paused with his hand on one of the exit doors, frowning, but the person didn't shout again. Maybe one of the servants had dropped a tray in the kitchens. Things tended to get heated there.

He pushed the door open, cautiously.

It was wrenched instantly out of his grip as someone seized it and threw it open. He caught a very brief glimpse of a crowd of guards and nobles alike before hands reached out and grabbed at him – tangling in his clothes and hair and antlers, dragging him out into the open. He yelled on instinct and hit out, and was rewarded by a solid punch to the gut. Winded instantly, he lost the strength to resist, and now he was being pulled through a crowd of hostile jeering, surrounded on all sides by dizzyingly bright splashes of colour and rose petals and hard metal armour.

Then he was through and the guards were throwing him to the marble floor of the ballroom. He lay there for a moment, stunned, his hair falling loose around his face. Pain radiated from all over his body and he could hardly breathe and when he looked up at the wide ring of Dorchadas nobility all around him, nobody made a move to help him.

Another yell, muffled but close. He scrambled to his feet, leaving a smear of blood on the floor behind him. A pair of very large guards off to the left held a limp figure between them. Emiliano was not struggling, but he was still trying to shout past the restraining hand clamped over his mouth. One of his eyes was swollen shut, the other wide and fixed on Fallon.

And then, finally, Fallon caught sight of Atropa. The Lord of Court Dorchadas stood by the crowd, not quite a part of it, a pleasant, relaxed smile on his face.

“Prince Fallon,” he said in a businesslike tone, “what is your relationship with this man?” And he indicated Emiliano with a dismissive gesture.

Lie. Fallon could hardly think, he couldn't make sense of the situation, it was a nightmare come to life – he almost answered truthfully, but a scrap of his parents' training filtered through. Lie to get out of trouble. Make something up. Anything was better than being caught.

Fallon's voice was hoarse, as if he'd been choked. Maybe he had. “I... do you mean the Prince's bodyguard, my Lord? I don't understand – what relationship?” He glanced over at Emiliano, who had a look of acceptance in his uninjured eye – it was better for one of them to make it out of this ordeal than none of them. Thea needed a father.

Atropa beckoned to a nearby guard, who stepped out of the crowd. Fallon's heart sank – it was the guard he'd seen outside his room. She still held her book, and now she began to read from it.

“Roughly an hour ago, the royal bodyguard was seen exiting Prince Fallon's personal quarters.”

Oh, no.

She continued – “This morning, shortly after breakfast, the royal bodyguard was again seen outside Prince Fallon's quarters. And again yesterday evening, and yesterday morning, and the evening before-”

“Okay, yes,” Fallon said sharply, his mind racing. “I know the bodyguard from Queen Xandra's reign, my Lord, and I was using him as a way to get to your son, the heir to the throne. I represent the Sky Spire empire and I was hoping that our next king would deepen the alliance between our two empires, and regard us favourably.”

“But you did not come to me with these concerns,” Atropa said. “My son is not old enough to have any influence.”

“Well, er,” Fallon said, “it's better to start early, is it not?” He reached up and fastened the coat buttons that had come undone, neatening up his outfit. “But I have to reiterate – I don't care about the bodyguard at all.”

“I see,” Atropa said. He watched Fallon for a long moment, his eyes utterly dead and cold. The nobles were talking in low, guilty voices amongst themselves, concerned, wondering if perhaps they'd been a little too hasty in judging Fallon.

It was working. Fallon could hardly believe it.

Then Atropa signalled to one of the guards restraining Emiliano. The guard released Emiliano's arm, drew a dragger, and plunged the blade into Emiliano's side.

The guards dropped Emiliano and stepped back. He crumpled without a sound. A puddle of blood spread across the pristine marble floor, mingling with the fallen rose petals. Emiliano did not move.

Fallon was running before he'd even formed a coherent thought, before his brain woke up and told him that it wasn't a fatal wound and that Atropa was just trying to get a rise out of him. He fell to his knees beside Emiliano and checked for a pulse – it was there, thank all the gods. But it was weak. Emiliano was still in danger and Fallon would never ever let him bleed out alone in a room full of hostile dragons.

Medical training had never been Fallon's strong suit. He found the wound, pressed a hand to the deceptively small gash and leant on it with as much force as he dared. With his other hand he tapped Emiliano's face, checking for signs of consciousness. Emiliano made a weak noise of complaint, which was enough.

“You idiot,” Emiliano mumbled, his slitted eye fixed on Fallon's face. “Now we're both fucked.”

The guards were closing in again. Someone grabbed Fallon's shoulder and tried to shove him aside, but now that the game was up Fallon had no reason to pretend to be accommodating. With a snarl he lashed out, taking advantage of his size to knock the guard back. While everyone was still reacting in shock to this, Fallon dived for the scabbard at Emiliano's side. It was empty, of course. Instead, Fallon wrenched the scabbard out of its flimsy, decorative housings, hoping to maybe used it as a club.

The flat of a blade clashed down on his hand and he recoiled, dropping his improvised weapon. And then the guards were on the two of them again, and Atropa's voice in the distance was ordering the two of them to be arrested and put on trial. Pinned to the ground, it was all Fallon could do to keep Emiliano in his sights, even as someone shoved a spell tag onto him that pushed him effortlessly into unconsciousness.

#3.5k words ... hopefully the other two parts won't be as long since this was kind of the set-up #so next time i'll just jump right into the Matter At Hand #quill darach #fallon cd #emiliano cd #thea cd #iririangi cd #atropa cd #corin cd

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