#|| when I get fond of character that gets heavy -we bonded over food

[luckyberet]

also sorry but not sorry about the dog spam. I am not finished

#✧* .outofsorcery #|| so much good art #|| so my ER faves are snake family - dea th doggo and sad king + sellen #|| when I get fond of character that gets heavy -we bonded over food #|| I bring food and maybe sneak some pets #|| befriend the floof #|| and I ignore game slapping me in the face #|| we are buddies

[arsenicpanda]

Hey! You seem to ship fairly similar Riverdale pairings to me, so do you have any fanfic ideas? Unfortunately, I have writers block and I don't have access to any maple mushrooms to get through this one.

So, I do have a few that don't fall under "I actually want to write this myself", you are correct, and I am a wordy bitch, so let's put this under a cut

-Jabitha + Jughead and Veronica friendship post-college au: so, we diverge from canon in 5x03. Betty still leaves Riverdale, but Veronica stays, and she and Jughead slowly bond over film, pretentious references, criminal fathers, and the whole getting cheated on thing. Maybe throw in Reggie and the other Serpents too if you want to. When Jughead becomes homeless (again), Veronica eventually notices and invites him to stay with her, and it's awkward at first, but then they get used to it. They develop a brother-sister bond. So, then when they go off to college, they keep in touch and stay friends. Their friendship keeps Jughead from being supes lonely at college, which means he stays and learns how to actually fucking write, so his book is actually good and not just successful, and also he doesn't take up drinking and drugs. And their friendship also keeps Veronica from dating assholes like Chad, so she never even gets close to that terrible marriage. But after they graduate, Jughead moves to NYC and they live together and she becomes the she-wolf of Wall Street and he becomes a successful author (genre undetermined) and maybe also journalist (look, I am just too fond of this headcanon, and most authors need second jobs anyway), and neither of them pine over their exes. Veronica can settle down with Reggie, Josie, Katy Keene, or someone else or no one else, but she is successful and happy. Also, Tabitha goes to school in NYC, settles down there, works a six-figure job for a while, and then opens a Pop's franchise. Now, it can go two ways from here:

Veronica and Tabitha become friends in college. Veronica keeps trying to set Jughead and Tabitha up with different people she knows to no success (she keeps trying to set both of them up with intimidating women (partial success and bi Tabitha 4 life) and himbos (zero success, they both prefer smart people, and also bi Jughead 4 life), until one day she's complaining about it to Katy Keene or Reggie or Josie or someone and the other person is like "V, why don't you just set them up with each other?" And she's like "ohhhhh" and she does, and they either hit it off pretty quickly or Tabitha is like "wait, are you the guy who mooched off my grandpa for years??" And he's like "pardon??" And she dislikes him until he proves himself/Veronica explains the situation (Jughead was neglected and poor and Pop helped him out). But then they get along and swap stories about Pop and fall into some weird investigation and fall in love, and Veronica is like "Victory is mine!"

Tabitha starts franchising Pop's in NYC, and when Jughead finds out he's like "sus, very sus" and goes there and eats and is like ".....this is actually pretty spot-on". And he becomes a regular (who actually orders food and pays because he can now), and Tabitha is supervising the diner for a time, and they start to chat on late nights when he's the only customer left but the diner isn't scheduled to close for another two hours, so Tabitha could use the company. Jughead doesn't realize she's Pop's granddaughter, and Tabitha doesn't realize he's her grandpa's favorite customer (and known moocher, in her opinion), and when they find out, they're both very shocked. They clear up the moocher thing and keep falling in love, and it's beautiful, and Veronica spends some her spare time prying into Jughead's newest late-night haunt and then teasing him about his crush on the owner and later "of course you fell for Pop's granddaughter, of course".

-Jabitha or bugabitha: Jughead cooks his tired (future?) girlfriend(s) dinner because yes, he does know how to cook because he loves food, so obviously he learned how to cook, and also he notices how much his girlfriend(s) work and wants to take care of them.

-Jabitha: Tabitha teaching Jughead how to cook some of Pop's recipes one late, slow night, and yes, they kiss at the end and/or when he makes her something on another late, slow night or slow afternoon or one morning when he opens and she shows up later

-Bugabitha: Tabitha needs help with a mystery/situation and goes to Betty and Jughead's PI agency to hire them (whether Betty and Jughead are together is up for grabs), and they are both charmed as fuck by her, and Tabitha tags along on the investigation for idk reasons, and they all fall in love and also solve a mystery

-Jabitha: smut/pwp of Jughead eating Tabitha out in Pop's while they're both still in uniform

-Jabith or Bugabith: like three students trip and fall into being way too invested in their teacher's/teachers' love life/lives and become convinced that something is going on between Jughead and Tabitha (and maybe also Betty) and start snooping while also documenting it on a popular "my English teacher is dating his other boss (and also my shop teacher)" or "my English teacher is two-timing his boss with my shop teacher" TikTok series that Jughead and Tabitha (and Betty) don't know about it until it goes viral after the kids finally get proof they're together / find out that it's not that Jughead's cheating with Betty and/or Tabitha's cheating with Betty but that the three of them are dating (see: that one fanart I commissioned of the Elite meme). Told from the kids' pov, very comedy-heavy (more comedy than ship fluff, tbh), includes replies to the TikToks and other social media stuff. Still considering writing this myself, but I don't know if I'm funny enough, tbh

-Bugabitha: how they do or do not celebrate holidays and birthdays, especially if the holidays involving shuffling between/avoiding their families and Betty recounts the disaster that was Jughead's birthday in 1x10, right down to (lovingly) roasting him for the "I'm weird, I'm a weirdo" speech (she will be kind by including how sweet he was in the diner, of course)

-Bugabitha: Alice finally finds out that Betty, Jughead, and Tabitha are all dating when Betty moves out of the Cooper house and into an apartment with Jughead and Tabitha. It includes something like the following exchange, Alice's last-ditch effort to convince Betty not to do this:

"Elizabeth, you cannot think that moving in with your ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend is wise."

"Mom, I'm not moving in with my ex and his girlfriend, I'm moving in with my boyfriend and my girlfriend, and you're making me late for lunch with them, bye." And then Betty leaves before Alice can respond

And then it's very important that Alice freaks out. If you want, you can also include FP and Gladys finding out (v chill) and Pop finding out (the most wholesome and supportive)

-Jabitha: Pop playing matchmaker with Jughead and Tabitha at any age, could be in an au where Tabitha comes to visit Pop every summer and Jughead kinda falls for her from afar as a teen, could be Jughead gets a job post-senior year at Pop’s during the summer when Tabitha is working there that summer, could be during the canon s5 or an au s5, could be any time, idk

- Jabitha, bughead, or bugabitha: Jughead's editor says that his novel needs a sex scene for whatever reason, idk, idc, but his POV character/narrator is a woman, and he's like "how do I write this without finding myself on one of those lists of 'men who can't write women?'" and bemoans this one day, and, idk, somehow his friend(s) Tabitha and/or Betty trip and fall into ~helping~ him by being very explicit and descriptive of how it feels while they bone

I think that’s it? Let’s say that’s it for now.

#asks #polaroid-fangirl13 #Riverdale #Riverdale season 5 #jabitha #bugabitha #fic ideas #fic ideas for sale #my thoughts on Riverdale let me show you them #I guess?

[moonchildsaurora]

Before the sun is rising up

✤ knight!Jongho x knight!reader ✤ genre: royal AU // angst, fluff (if you squint) ✤ t/w: sfw, non-descriptive battle fight, sad reacts only, rated PG ✤ count: 1.6k ✤ [ part 1 ] of Lacuna miniseries  

a/n - o m f g it’s finally done. . .well overdue one shot for our precious maknae & the 1st of 8 parts for my new miniseries! Here I was thinking that it’ll be a more condensed piece, but yet again my mind decided to be loud. Perhaps I’ll be able to reign it in a bit more with the others (who am I kidding really tho). I hope I wrote well enough for Jongho’s character, even though it still feels slightly rushed. Thanks to @a-tiny-8iny for insightful convos which gave me the idea of considering the focus around platonic bonds too (which honestly gave me a plotline I was much happier with)! Also @hereisleo @monbae @s1ardusk @barsformars I remember yelling bout this series idea to you guys ages ago and here we are 💙  

It was rare for a champion knight to be able to bask in serenity, especially on the eve of the final battle. The kingdoms of Rivaria and Nethilor have long been at war with one another, what once was a united empire now torn apart from betrayal and greed. There simply wasn’t room for two powers to rule, and so by the time the sun rises tomorrow, only one will be left standing triumphantly. How twisted fate must be, to have childhood friends who had endlessly supported one another since their gruelling training days when they were mere squires only to end up serving royalties of opposite sides.

The cooling night breeze played around with your hair as your legs dangled freely over the cliff’s edge where you sat waiting patiently for him. You leaned back on your arms, hands gently curling into the slightly damp but still soft grass and face tilted up towards the star-lit skies. The moon was out in full tonight, somehow knowing it may be the very last time it could greet you.

Your ears managed to pick up the familiar sound of steady footsteps from behind, without turning around and a grin already forming on your lips.

“And here I thought you’d best me in arriving first for once, Sir Choi” you said, trying to hold back a chuckle.

The sound of metal clinking against another indicated that he had let his sword, Shadowmist, rest against the tree next to your Windsong. Forged by the same swordsmith, intended to be wield together as a complementary pair.

“My deepest apologies, had to use the good ol’ distraction to sneak past the night guards of my own camp.”

“How rebellious of you.”

Jongho gave a playful shove to your shoulder as he sat down next to you, an immediate comforting warmth radiated off him. You noticed that he was in his casual tunic, the soft linen matching your own one. It’s almost a foreign sight to you considering how used you are seeing one another in the heavy metal of armour rather than something more care-free.  

Just as you were about to ask how long he had before his troops would start noticing their own commander’s absence, a bundle was unceremoniously dropped on your lap.

“And pray tell, what is this?”

Your fingers fiddled with the thin leather cord that wrapped around the cloth, managing to unwrap the cover and your eyes crinkled with glee immediately upon seeing the contents inside.

“I made my squire swear not to tell the others that I was stealing extras for my supposed woodland friends,” a dramatic sigh escaped Jongho.

That caused you to burst out laughing, “You mean to say that the great leader of the Nethilorian army secretly befriends little creatures?”

“I always did say that your resemblance to that of a raccoon is uncanny.”

Now it was your turn to shove him, though you had to admit that his cover-up reasons were ridiculously endearing. “I wonder how your squire puts up with you at times, must be confusing for the poor lad.”

“What will it take for you to express your gratitude without mocking my pride?”

“Fortunately for you, I may be more inclined to accept certain incentives at times…” and picking up a Goldhorn biscuit, you held it towards Jongho, “Truce?”

Instead of taking the biscuit with his fingers he proceeded to bite down lightly, stealing it right out of your hold.

“You fiend!”

“Now we can have a truce.”

You purposely wiped your fingers on his tunic, earning a protest from him before tasting one of the sweet treats for yourself. These were the biscuits that you and Jongho used to eat regularly as children, the same honeyed taste bringing back fond memories. A fleeting image of your parents and home came to mind, the echoes of childish laughter and, “Watch where you’re running you two little rascals!”

“Remember that time you chased me with your mother’s rolling pin and it got us in so much trouble?”

You turned to look at Jongho, still to this day you haven’t quite figured out how he always seem to be on the same wavelength as you. Another biscuit was popped into your mouth before you replied, “Only because you not so accidentally spilled the rest of my potato stew.” That particular memory managed to coax a smile out of you, silently apologising to your parents for being the cause of their grey hairs.

A comfortable silence settled, the little fireflies were coming out to dance and the night breeze was still calm as before. From where the both of you sat on the cliff, the view of the valley was magnificent. It was a pleasant surprise that you discovered this hidden spot during the training camp and it became yours and Jongho’s meeting place ever since.

“I’m going to miss this.”

You could feel your heart clenching at his words, knowing full well what he meant. Setting the food down, you shuffled around a bit so you could retrieve something from your pocket. Dangling the two silver chains right in front of Jongho seem to break him out of whatever nostalgia trance he was in.

He blinked owlishly at the pendants, each holding an athesotile gem. You gave his one over and Jongho observed the iridescent glow it had under the moonlight.

“You sure know how to make a man feel special,” said Jongho as he teasingly held a hand over his heart .

“Had it been a confession token, sure. Unfortunately for you it’s only a lucky charm.”

“Trust you to still believe in that old tale,” he chuckled as he looped the pendant around his neck. This particular gem was sought after in the past for supposedly bringing great luck or so it has been old across generations by your elders. You had found these pendants as you were passing through the major town of Millbelle after a successful patrol.

“I’d trust in anything that will bring us hope at this point.”

The breeze picked up a little bit, rustling the trees around as if it became restless at your words. You really hadn’t mean to dampen the mood but reality was starting to sink heavily on your entire being. Anger and fear both seeped in, for being placed in such a predicament – you didn’t even get to bid your family a proper farewell with how fast war was declared. Your hands gripped the pendant tightly as you forced the choked sobs back down, though the corners of your eyes had tears already gathering.

“I’m terrified Jongho. I don’t want either of us to –“

“Hey now, are you forgetting something?” Even if he holds his gaze so strongly, you could still feel the slight trembles in his hands that interlocked with yours as he spoke.

“What do you mean?”

“You remember when I said I’ll be with you till the end?” His thumb caught a stray tear and wiped it gently from your face, “I intend to follow that through.”

A million and one thoughts ran through your head as you looked at him, endlessly thanking the gods above for blessing you with Choi Jongho. Though death lingered over yourselves, knowing that you wouldn’t have to face it alone eased your soul that little bit more.

With a wet laugh you leaned into his touch, “I won’t hold back if you don’t either.”

Jongho stood up from his previous seating spot, pulling you up with him. You watched as he made his way over to the swords and retrieved them both, quickly using the sleeves of your tunic to dry your eyes before Jongho held Windsong out towards you for the taking.

Tilting your head to the side with a silent question that you only got an answer to after Jongho unsheathed Shadowmist. He directed the blade to be pointing at you, no hostility behind the action, just a determined glint in his dark eyes and a solemn nod of his head.

With the moon as a witness, a final oath was made by the crossing of swords.

The thundering of hooves and roars of the cavalries were enough to shake the land, as the Rivarians fearlessly gave their war cry. The grip on your mount’s reins was painfully tight as you stood observing the enemy ranks across the battle field. Dawn was upon you, the rosy hues of red and orange matched the accents on your silver suit of armour. It was a harsh contrast to the striking black and gold that the Nethilorian army wore.

Another war horn sounded, this time from the other side and your jaw clenched with tension as you watched Jongho lead the charge down the hill.

“Leave the Commander to me, cover the flanks and keep your formations in order,” your voice resonated with finality as you addressed your elite guards.

“Archers! At the ready!”

A wave of a flag with a griffin, your kingdom’s emblem, embroidered on it signalled a rain of arrows to be let loose. You couldn’t tell how long you held your breath for as you watch the arrows land around Jongho’s charging form, his soldiers bringing up their sturdy shields as protection. Relief ran through you as the arrows took out the slower foot soldiers around him instead.

Shadowmist was raised high and proud, equally deafening war cries echoed in multitude getting closer and closer to your side. You drew out Windsong and walked your mount towards the front lines.

“We ride…for honour,” the visor of your helmet was flipped down, “…for the safety of our people….for our lives.” You kicked your mount into a gallop with your riders following your lead, raising their spears and swords.

“FOR RIVARIA!”

Ironically everything seemed to slow down as you faced head on towards Jongho. Even the noise have become muffled, all you could focus on was your breathing within the helmet. Your eyes never wavered from his figure and when his mount stormed faster ahead of the rest, you matched his change in pace as well.  

“To thee I swear this oath, only by your blade will…”

As the first ray of light pierced over the horizon, the waking sun was greeted with the resounding clash of two blades; and the mourning for two loyal hearts.  

“…we meet once again at the elysian fields, my dearest friend.”

#atzinc #kpopuniversenet #atinyforatiny #jongho x reader #ateez oneshot #ateez imagines #jongho oneshot #ateez au #ateez royal au #ateez writing #ateez x reader #ateez fic #ateez blurbs #ateez jongho #ateez scenarios #kpop writing #jongho angst #ateez fanfic #choi jongho #pyx writes

[thehellcatcroons]

An Ordinary Woman

Summary: Left alone for the weekend while Dante takes a job out of town, Trish gets a call from Lady inviting her over for dinner. This short story explores Trish’s thoughts and feelings as she wrestles with her identity and the idea of friendship. 

The idea for this kind of loosely came from an episode of Inuyasha, where Kikyo explains that without the shikon jewel, she’d be free to be an ordinary woman, and that’s all she ever wanted. I wanted to apply the idea of just wanting to be, or even just feel, like an ordinary woman to Trish, who I think probably questions her identity a lot. 

Characters: Trish, Lady- Mentions of Dante

**Brief mentions of drinking wine**

Also up on Ao3 (Tumblr mucked up some of my formatting.)

   Glittering reflections of flickering lights danced in the quickly puddling streets of the city as a tall, flaxen haired woman sauntered down them; the usual song of the city night masked by the heavy and steady beating of the rain. Trish had found herself growing a fondness for it, and tonight it proved to be welcome company on her walk to Lady's apartment. It was summer now, a season that could have contended with Hell's own fires, but the showers themselves were cool as ice as they fell from the night sky and caressed her overheated skin. She took a deep breath, enjoying the scent of the humidity that hung heavily in the air.

  Dante had gone out of town on a job, and the phone hadn't rung in days; Trish had grown tired of sitting around the shop by herself waiting for work. She had managed to find some little ways to keep herself busy here and there. She'd tidied the office and cleaned the spoiled food from the fridge, she'd even hung a few devil arms on the walls to get them off of the floor, since everyone at the office seemed to have been tripping over them. But she'd finished cleaning up a day ago, and today she'd realized that the television in Dante's office didn't operate the way he said it was supposed to. Supposedly it showed moving pictures, but all she had gotten from it was static; no matter how many buttons she clicked or positions she twisted the antenna into. Come to think of it, she'd never even seen Dante use it before, how could she be sure it even worked at all? Thankfully, Lady had called to check in on her just as she was tempted to zap the damned thing with her lighting.

  It was the first time Dante had left her alone at the shop for more than a day. It had only been a year since they'd returned from Mallet Island, and there was still a lot about the human world that puzzled Trish. Though, she was never shy about the things that she didn't understand, she knew that if she was going to be living in this world, she'd need to learn a great many things about it. But much to her disappointment, Dante seemed clueless about a lot and Trish found herself talking to Lady more and more as of late. She'd been grateful to hear her voice on the other end of the line after her few days of solitude.

  “Leave it to Dante to take the only paying job around! Why don't you close on up and come over here? I could use the company. I'd offer to pick you up, but I just started cooking. Guess I didn't really think about that one...” Trish remembered hearing her hearty laugh through the receiver. “Then again, I guess you'd get wet either way since all I have is the bike!”

  “Oh, a little rain won't bother me! Besides, I think I'm starting to like it.” She'd said before eagerly hanging up and shutting up shop for the night; the rain wasn't the only thing she'd been growing a fondness for.

  She and Lady had very much gotten off on the wrong foot when they first met. In fact, they'd tried to kill one another. When they later found out that the incident could have been avoided if Dante had just introduced them, they'd both laughed if off, and laughed at Dante. In fact, since the incident (and much to Dante's dismay,) the two of them had seemed to bond a great deal over poking fun at him.

  Sirens wailed in the distance, cutting through the drumming of the rain and interrupting Trish's thoughts. The strange sounds of this world were another thing that Trish had found herself slowly growing used to. The demon world had been a strangely quiet place, while the human world was just the opposite; the streets were always alive with the sounds of horns and hollers. She'd remembered Lady telling her that it wasn't like this everywhere, that there were some places in the human world that were quiet and still.    

 How dull they must be. She thought, smiling at the buzzing neon lights of the bars and shops that lined the streets.

  This world was a fascinating place. There was so much to see, so much to do, so much to know. Trish had already learned a great deal of things in just her short year here. But despite all of the wonders of the world that she was in now, what she was learning the most about was herself; who she was, and who she wanted to be. She'd been born of malice, hatred even, created by a monster for some sick revenge.

  “But that's not who you are.” Dante had told her when they'd returned from the island. “You saved me, and instead of returning to the demon world, you chose to come back here with me. That's gotta count for something, right?”

  Maybe. She thought, recalling the memory. But then, what does that make me?

  She knew that she wasn't evil, she just couldn't muster the hatred for it. She was more concerned with who she was, and constantly grappled with her ideas about her identity. After all, nothing was truly hers, everything she had belonged to someone else at one point or another. Her face and her beauty both belonged to a woman long dead. Her guns, Luce and Ombre, had been given to her by Dante. Her strength, her powers, all given to her by her creator, nothing earned. Even her life had belonged to someone else at one point, someone who had cast her aside without a second thought the moment she had failed him. She supposed her name was hers, she'd chosen it after all. But was that it? Was that all she had in this world, after all she'd been through?

  The glint of the small silver speaker box that hung outside of Lady's building caught Trish's eye, it was sweet beacon of light to her, casting aside her doubts and replacing them with a strange sense of hope. Her pace seemed to quicken as she approached it, one finger already extended and ready to hit the little button next to Lady's apartment number. A short moment after, she heard the static of the other line picking up through the speaker box.

  “Oh! Jeez, you sure walk fast!” She heard Lady's cheery voice on the other end. “I'll buzz you up!” The line clicked off and Trish heard the obnoxious buzz of the main doors being unlocked. Perhaps there were some noises in this world that she didn't care for after all.

  The inside of the building was an entire world brighter than outside, though Trish credited most of it to the gross overuse of the color white. The paint on the walls was almost as glossy as the tiled floors that made up the lobby. The florescent lighting was almost blinding, and Trish had to let her eyes adjust for a moment before heading to the elevator.

“Good grief.” She muttered to herself as the cabin creaked and groaned its way down to her. “Why are human machines so noisy?”

  As the doors opened, a small hoard of adolescent girls pushed their way out, chattering excitedly about junk food, movies, and something called a 'sleepover.'

   “God Jenna, you're so lucky your mom leaves you all of this money when she goes away, we can get whatever we want from the corner store!” Trish heard one of them say.

   “It's only because I hate her new boyfriend, she's just doing it so I'm not a bitch to her when she comes home.” Their giggles were cut off as the elevator doors finally slid shut behind Trish.

  It seemed to Trish that a decent amount of human rituals involved food. Not only did they need it to nourish themselves, but they used it as a way to bond with one another as well. Though she didn't exactly need human food to sustain herself, she did enjoy it from time to time when it wasn't pizza for the fifth night in a row.

  The cabin jerked slightly as it reached its destination, the doors struggling to part ways. The third floor hallway was a welcome site, its interior much duller than the florescence of the first. Soft gray carpet padded the floors, while the walls were bound in a calm blue wallpaper. Trish didn't have to walk far before she found herself outside of Lady's door.

  She hesitated for a moment before she knocked, almost nervous to be spending time with Lady by herself. After the events of their first encounter had blown over, Lady had always seemed kind towards her, but Trish could always tell that there was something else there. There was an underlying uneasiness that kept Lady tense and on edge around Trish, and even Dante sometimes. Though, it did seem like Lady tried to hide those feelings from them both. Trish was honestly surprised that she had even invited her over, but she was thankful all the same.

   “Hey- woah, ok....how are you not soaked?” Lady asked when she answered the door. Trish shrugged as she walked in, her heels clicking against the floors once more as the terrain changed to hardwood.

   “I can use my powers for more than just fighting.” She replied, innocently.

   “Well, I suppose having demonic powers would come in handy for all sorts of things.” Lady said as she closed the door behind them and shuffled to the kitchen that was just to the left of it.

  She wasn't dressed in the normal attire that Trish was used to seeing her in. Instead, she was sporting soft black shorts with white polka dots, and a baggy gray tee shirt that hung off of her shoulders. Trish looked down to see that she was barefoot, and had a multitude of rings wrapped around her toes.

   “I hope you don't mind spaghetti, it's just about done.” Lady said, picking up a wooden spoon and stirring the contents of a large pot.

   “What's that?” Trish asked.

   “You've never had- oh gosh!” She said, realization suddenly dawning on her. “You probably don't even need to eat, do you? I didn't even think about it.” She almost sounded disappointed.

   “Well no, but, I like it. Trying new things has been....an interesting journey for me.” She smiled at Lady as she took a seat on one of the tall steel bar stools that sat next to the counter.

   “I'm sure you're really expanding your pallet living with The Prince of Pizza.” She joked as she plopped two glasses onto the counter in front of Trish and filled them with wine. Trish noted that there was something different in the way that Lady was acting, she seemed far more relaxed than she normally was.

   “It was kind of you to think of me.” Trish chuckled at Lady's jab at Dante as she grabbed one of the glasses and brought it to her lips.

   “I figured you could use a friendly face, being all alone in that office can't be much fun.”

   “No, but I did manage to get some cleaning done without Dante there.” She sighed. “He never wants anyone to touch anything.”

   “Always says he'll get to it, but never does?” Lady quipped as she sauntered back to the stove. “Been there, done that. I offered to help clean up about a thousand times when we first met. I guess all men are destined to be stubborn, demon or not.”

   Trish laughed as Lady spooned the food she'd made out onto some plates for them.

   “In any case, I'm glad you're here to give me some company. And that you're willing to humor me and eat my cooking.” She made her way back over to the counter and placed the plates down between them.

   “Well, what do you think?” Lady asked as she watched Trish take a bite. “This isn't the first thing you've had besides pizza, is it?”

   Trish covered her mouth as she stifled a laugh, still chewing.

   “I've tried other foods!” She managed to quip back once she finally swallowed. “I do like this though, what's it called again?”

   “Spaghetti.” Lady laughed. “And I'm glad.”

   “I heard some girls talking about something called a sleepover when I was getting on the elevator. What is that?” Trish asked suddenly after they'd spent a long and comfortable silence enjoying their food.

   “A sleepover?” Lady asked, shifting in her seat uncomfortably. “I've never really been to one myself. But, it's when kids, er- friends, get together and spend the night at each other's houses. They usually stay up all night doing stuff like watching movies, painting nails, telling scary stories, eating junk food.”

   “How come you've never been to one?”

   Lady looked down into her glass of wine, as if the answer was at the bottom.

  “Well...” She began, she looked up at Trish nervously. “My parents were both a bit overly protective when I was really young, so I was never allowed to stay over anyone's house. I think my mom knew my father was....off, so she never let me have any friends over our house. I ran away from home after he killed her, dropped out of school, stopped having friends.” Her voice was suddenly a whisper. She sighed as she took a long sip from her glass.

   “I'm so sorry....” Trish replied. She'd almost forgotten, Lady may be human, but that didn't mean she was normal by any means.

   “It's alright.” Lady replied. “I guess some human experiences are unfamiliar to me too, the ones I was robbed of anyway.” She half laughed.

  Trish looked down at her plate as she took another bite, thankful for something to keep her mouth occupied. She hadn't meant to upset Lady, and she'd forgotten how easy it was to stir up bad memories with just a few small words. She found herself feeling strangely disappointed. Lady had only just started relaxing around her, had she ruined that already? Did she break a trust that they were only just starting to build?

   “Hey, you know what?” Lady chirped suddenly. “We can have one tonight!”

   “Have what?”

   “A sleep over. I've never been to one, you've never been to one. Let's have one here, I have a bunch of movies we can watch, and I'm sure I can dig up some pajamas that'll fit you. Well, maybe, you're awfully tall.” She laughed.

   Trish smiled, eager to feel a little bit more normal. “You're sure you're ok with me staying here?”

   Lady hesitated before answering. “Why not? It'll be fun! We're already eating and drinking anyway, that's about half of the activities right there.”

  Trish was taken back, Lady was clearly wary of demons, yet it seemed like she was going out of her way to extend kindness towards her. Why? What had she done to deserve it? She hadn't saved her life like she'd saved Dante's. Still, Trish couldn't help but smile at the gesture.

  It wasn't long before the two women found themselves sitting on Lady's couch, laughing at an old movie and working their way through their second bottle of wine. With each passing sip the world around Trish was becoming more and more intriguing. Lady's laugh was a sweet symphony in her ears, harmonizing perfectly with the rain that was battering hard against the many windows in the apartment. The continuous waves of laughter that passed over her were giving her a feeling that she found herself wanting to chase.

  Was this why humans kept company with each other so often? This feeling? Being at the shop with Dante wasn't like this at all. They mostly worked, and when they weren't working, he was mostly drinking and moping. She didn't like to be around him much when he got heavily depressed, she didn't like the look in his eyes when he looked at her, like he was being tortured. It was hard not to feel out of place when someone was constantly looking at you as if you were a ghost, haunted by your presence. Though, it wasn't like that all of the time, and Trish had to admit that he seemed to getting a bit better about it as of late. Still, it was nice to be around someone who didn't make her feel that bitter uneasiness at all.

  As the screen on the television went black, Lady pushed herself off of the couch.

   “Well, what did you think of your first movie?” She asked eagerly, pulling the tape from the machine that rested beneath the television.

   Trish nodded through her fit of giggles. “That was funny.”

   “Another one then?”

   “Another one!” She replied, zealously pouring herself another glass wine.

  As the opening credits began to make their way across the screen, Trish found herself feeling oddly comfortable, like she was no longer out of place. It was as if she wasn't sitting in an apartment that belonged to someone she'd tried to kill half a year ago. No, instead she was starting to feel like she was sitting in an apartment that belonged to a friend. It was almost a strange thought to have, half a year ago they'd been ready to fill one another with bullets. Tonight, they sat together laughing over wine.

   “Can I ask you something?” She suddenly asked before she could even think about the words she was saying.

   “Sure.” Lady sounded almost curious about the question.

   “Why did you ask me to come over here?” Trish asked, fixing her eyes to the remaining liquid in her glass, swirling it around with anticipation.

   “What do you mean?”

   “Well, you seem very wary of demons, and I sense an uneasiness from you when I'm around. I just wasn't sure what made you want to invite a demon into your apartment.”

   Lady shifted in her seat, looking up from the television and over to Trish. A nervous expression crept across her face.

   “To tell you the truth, if I'd met you ten years ago, I probably wouldn't be so kind. Demons and I have an unsavory history, my father was obsessed with them, and that destroyed my life. I didn't even think that I'd end up working with Dante after we met to be honest. I didn't really trust him for a long time, but giving him a chance showed me that all demons aren't the same. There are some out there who fight against their own kind, and I'm starting to believe that it might be worth it to give them a chance.” Lady took a sip from her glass before continuing. “You've kind of helped reinforce that idea. You're a full blooded demon, and you choose to stay here and help humans.”

   Trish almost didn't believe what she was hearing. “Me?”

   “Well, yeah. Dante told me you were created just to kill him, and now you're here helping him hunt your own kind. I think that's pretty amazing.” She laughed. “Come to think of it, when I invited you over I almost forgot you were a demon. I was kind of just thinking about how nice it'd be to spend time with another woman. You know, have some quality gal time? I haven't had too many friends outside of Dante, this life doesn't really allow for it.” Lady was talking a bit faster than she normally did, a side effect of the wine.

   She thinks of me as just another woman, she thinks of me as her friend. Trish thought to herself, utterly stunned into silence.

  The life of a devil hunter was a lonely one, Trish had noted that even Dante didn't have many friends. He seemed to go out of his way to live a solitary life, admitting to her once that he'd left behind someone he loved for this life. He was even cold to Lady from time to time, keeping her just at arms length, despite the fact that they had a lot in common with one another. Trish had always thought that he didn't act that way with her because she reminded him if his mother, but now she was thinking that perhaps it was because she wasn't human. He didn't have to worry about her getting hurt the way he would with a human companion. Perhaps that's why hunters flocked to one another so much, they'd all chosen this life for one reason or another, and perhaps even a solitary lifestyle left humans craving some form of connection.

   “Can I ask you a question?” She heard Lady ask before she even had the chance to respond.

   “Well, I think it's only fair since I just asked one of my own.”

   “Have you ever painted your nails before?”

   “What?” The question seemed so off topic and out of place to Trish, but perhaps this was another side effect of the wine.

   “Your nails!” Lady help up her hand so that Trish could see her finger nails. They were painted a sparkly black, chipped here and there from working and wear. “It's something people do at sleepovers. I was going to repaint mine, I could do yours if you want. I have a red that'll really match that lipstick you always wear.”

   She laughed. “Sure!”

  Lady's eyes lit up with excitement, making Trish smile even wider. She seemed so excited to do something so small, so ordinary; but her enthusiasm warmed Trish in a way that she found hard to find words for in the moment. She watched as Lady bounded to her room and back, retuning with a few small bottles and a roll of paper towels.

   “Ok!” The brunette said spiritedly as she plopped back down onto the couch and crossed her legs beneath her. She began to shake one of the bottles vigorously. “Give me your hand.” She said as she extended her own towards Trish.

  Trish turned to face her and held out a hand, surprised at how soft Lady's were as she gingerly held her wrist with one hand, and began to paint with the other. They spent so much of their time handling guns and various other weapons, how on Earth were her hands so soft? Was it magic?

   “Your hands are so soft.” She found herself blurting out, an almost childlike wonder peaking through in the tone of her voice.

   Lady laughed. “If there's one thing I learned in this life, it's to find one little luxury worth spending a little extra on. Something that makes you feel like you're still human, some semblance of normalcy. For me, it's occasional manicures and very expensive lotion. It helps remind me that I'm more than just a demon hunter, that I'm still....a lady.” She giggled at the last part.

   “You know, I kind of feel like that when I put on make up.” Trish admitted. “I like the way it feels.”

   Lady regarded Trish with a surprised smile as she released her hand. Trish brought it closer to her face and wiggled her fingers, watching the shiny red polish glint in the light.

   “It's still wet, so don't touch them, or anything else for a few minutes.” She reached for Trish's other hand and began to paint the nails on it.

   Trish smiled as she moved her fingers around, admiring the way they looked now that they were painted.

   “Wow, this really is pretty, and it does match my lipstick.”

   “Toldja.” Lady quipped, winking. “You know, I don't use this color much if you wanna borrow it. Unlike Dante I trust that you'll actually give my stuff back.”

  The pair erupted into a fit of giggles, the movie they had put on was slowly becoming white noise in the background, their camaraderie almost drowning it out completely.

   “How come you two don't get along?” Trish asked when their laughter had subsided.

   Lady looked like she was caught off guard. “It's not that we don't get along. We don't dislike one another. It's just that...” She trailed off, looking down at the couch as she thought. “I met him on the second worst night of my life, the night I killed my father. My father was an evil man....if you can even call him that. In the end he was something else completely. He had to die, if not for what he did to my mother, for what he was going to do to others. But, that doesn't mean it still doesn't haunt me. I had to do it. I had to take his life, with my own hands. It's hard not to be reminded of that when I look at Dante. We have a lot in common, way more than I'd like to admit, but no matter how much time passes I'm still reminded of that night when I'm around him. Maybe that's why he's cold to me at times, he lost Vergil that night. Maybe he can't help but to remember that when he looks at me too.”

   “That's terrible.” Trish whispered, she was slowly beginning to realize that painful memories could be dredged up with just a simple question.

   “Oh, it's ok. We get along just fine when we need to, and I still consider him a friend. But I suppose we'll never be that close, and that's ok.” She smiled up at Trish. “You know what's kind of funny?”

   “Hmm?”

   “Despite the fact that we're both demon hunters, and that we tried to kill each other when we first met, tonight is the most normal I've felt in a long time. It's nice to spend time with someone who doesn't bring up bad memories for me, doing normal things that everyday people do.” She mused.

   Trish returned the smile, beaming from ear to ear. “I feel the same way.”

  And she did, realizing in that moment that she had finally earned something for herself, Lady's trust, her friendship. She'd done it without having to save her life, or double cross her creator. She'd earned Lady's trust simply by following her own path and choosing to fight against evil. By listening to her rant about Dante, by joking around with her when she'd needed it. It wasn't one big moment that brought them together, like with her and Dante. It had been all the small moments, all the gestures that Trish had thought nothing of at the time that made their friendship blossom.

  She could feel a deep, yet unfamiliar warmth spreading within her, her smile becoming unyielding in the face of her new realizations. She had a friend, a friend whose trust she'd earned all on her own. For the very first time, Trish felt just like an ordinary woman, and she had to admit, it felt like a breath of fresh air.

#Devil May Cry #Fanfic #writing #lady #Trish #DMC #Mentions of Dante #Minor use of Alcohol #Lady (Devil May Cry) #Trish (Devil May Cry) #Fan Fiction #Short #Short Story #One Shot #Introspection #identity #My Writings

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

Taking Whisks || Roland and Kaden

TIMING: Before the scream LOCATION: Roland’s house PARTIES: @sgtrolandhills​ and @chasseurdeloup​ SUMMARY: Upon learning that Sarge eats way too many Lean Cuisines and doesn't even know what a roux is, Kaden offers to teach Roland some cooking basics. The pair bond and have a perfectly pleasant evening. (But for real)

While he could solely rely on prepped delivery boxes with the simplest of instructions, Roland realized he was probably getting too old to not have any real cooking skills. It didn’t look like the being alone aspect of things was changing anytime soon either. With him feeling more and more like he was failing in his work life, he needed something for himself in his personal life. He enjoyed eating. What better hobby to pick up than cooking? Plus, Kaden seemed to know what he was talking about with his roux and flour. He liked Langley well enough. A bit of a wild card, but he could see them getting on outside the station. A friend or two couldn’t hurt, right? That’s what he told himself as he opened the door to welcome Kaden into his home. “Hey,” he greeted, “I appreciate you taking the time to show me the ropes of cooking. I have some beer in the fridge-- lady at the store said it was French. I also have some pinot noir which is apparently pretty nice. Haven’t tried it myself yet.” He had planned on sharing it with Erin, but it was now very apparent what a bad idea that would be. Even if there was no longer evidence against her, he couldn’t look past what he’d seen.

As Kaden stepped up to his boss’s house, he realized he hadn’t planned ahead very well. Well, alright, he had planned ahead and brought not just his own food to cook, but his own pots and pans, too. Okay, sure, Sarge probably had pots and pans but he couldn’t guarantee a man who ate lean cuisines had adequate cooking equipment. What he hadn’t planned on was how in the hell he was going to ring the doorbell. Kaden tried to angle his elbow to knock the door bell but he couldn’t get it just right. He then tried to adjust the pots and pans in his arms to try and wriggle a free hand to knock on the door but there was just too much. Sure, he could just sit something down first and then knock or use the doorbell, but then he’d have to reach down and pick it all up again. Instead, Kaden decided to knock on the door with his foot. Some might call it kicking, but it was clearly a knock. “Hey, Sarge,” he said as the door swung open. “Don’t mention it. I can’t let you waste away on, what are they called again, Lean Cuisines?” Kaden shuddered at the thought. “I’m no master chef, alright, but I can teach a few basics. Trust me, you’ll never be able to go back.” As Kaden settled in the kitchen, he couldn’t help but think how strange it was that he had co-workers. He was so used to being a weird freelancer type, taking whatever odd jobs paid the bills, hunting and relying on the kindness of his hunter contacts. This whole same people every day thing was new. And strange. Stranger yet was that he sort of respected and like Roland. “This wine doesn't look half bad,” he said, looking over the bottle. “You didn’t get it on account of me, right?”

While he and Langley didn’t get to do too much talking at work, Roland did respect him. Animal Control was a vital part of public safety, especially in this town where aggressive animals seemed to somehow be the norm. He looked forward to learning the basics of cooking from him. Weren’t the French notorious for really fine cuisine? From Lean Cuisines to fine cuisine-- that sounded like quite the tagline. “Yeah, you got that right. I take it they don’t have Lean Cuisines in France,” he joked. “I’m sure you’re way ahead of me. I have it on pretty good authority you make good pies.” Why Dr. Kavanagh knew that, he wasn’t sure, but he trusted her to be objective above all else. He welcomed the younger man into his kitchen and gave him a brief tour of his home. There wasn’t much in the way of decor and sometimes he missed the little odds and ends Isabel always kept around to make it feel more welcoming. He’d never been good at that whole home decor thing. At the mention of the wine being nice and Kaden wondering why he’d gotten it, he frowned slightly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh, uh,” he started, “Originally thought I’d share it with a lady friend, but things didn’t quite work out.” It felt odd saying it out loud and he was sure Langley didn’t need to hear about the sad state of his love life. To lighten the mood, he cracked a small smile. “Don’t worry, Langley, not trying to woo you with the fancy wine instead.” He watched as Kaden began unloading bags onto his freshly cleaned kitchen counter. “So what all did you bring and what are we making,” he asked.

“I don’t believe they do, no. I think half the country might riot at the thought alone,” Kaden joked as he started placing his cooking accoutrement on the counter, getting things set up and situated for the lesson at hand. The mention of his pie brought a small smile to his face. It had to be Regan who told him about the pies, right?  He shook his head, tried to focus, didn’t need to sit there grinning like an idiot while thinking about his girlfriend, not after what Sarge just told him. “A lady friend, huh?” Kaden was ready to jibe him, but the look on Sarge’s face made him think better of it. “I’m sure she wasn’t worth it,” he said with a shrug. “Hey, you never know. I’m quite a catch, after all,” he said as he started setting out the ingredients one by one, trying to keep them in order that seemed sensical, easy to follow. “I will warn you, though. I’m taken so sorry to dash your hopes. I know. You’re crushed.” He took his pot and set it on the burner and started the heat it up, low and slow. “So we’re going to start with a roux. It’s a decent base to make a lot of sauces. We can make a white and a red sauce so you have some basic options. You’ll never want to look at a Lean cuisine ever again.” At least he hoped. Sarge was a nice guy. There was no need to keel over on account of the massive amounts of sodium he was likely consuming. “So how did you end up in White Crest, anyway?

The thought of a bunch of French men rioting over Lean Cuisines was pretty comical. Roland chuckled heartily and noticed the small grin on Kaden’s face. It was kind of nice to see him in good spirits. Usually when he saw Langley, Wu or Stryder were ribbing him. Amusing as it was, he knew it could make anyone a little annoyed. Thankfully, Kaden wasn’t pushing the mention of a lady friend. His own lapse in judgment bothered him more than anything else. A pretty face had never been able to fool him in the past. He shrugged, “Definitely am better off. Just thought I was a better judge of character, but what can you do?” Clearly not much considering the evidence against Erin had just vanished somehow. It wasn’t something he wanted to dwell on. All he could do was move forward and work the case alone. Not that his detectives left him with much of an option until he figured out just who was compromising cases so carelessly. He couldn’t help but laugh at Kaden going along with his joke. “Damn, glad I didn’t splurge on the fancy cheese then.” He looked over the ingredients Kaden was pulling out and added them to his mental grocery list. “A roux is a sauce base. I’ve had red and white sauces before… not sure if they’re the same ones, but I’ll give them a go. What would I put them on,” He imagined some sort of meat, vegetable, or pasta which didn’t narrow much of anything down. “I do plan on ditching the Lean Cuisines though.” Mostly on account of needing to take better care of himself. The next question made him shake his head. “Funny story, actually,” he said with a laugh, “I was transferred here. Pretty sure it was because I was hopping ranks too quickly and my boss didn’t want me to get a promotion over him… or I was digging too deeply into a case they wanted to keep hushed. Either way, I’m almost positive they wanted me out of Boston. Joke’s on them, somehow White Crest manages to be more exciting than Boston. What about you? I’m sure Maine is no France.”

“Well, better to figure it out now and not months later.” Kaden huffed out a small laugh, more at himself than Roland. True, things were fine now but he spent how long thinking Regan was human? At least Sarge wouldn’t have to deal with any fall out later “Sorry, just thinking about-- Uh, nevermind.” He pulled out the ingredients, butter, flour, heavy cream. “Yeah, it’s a base, good for a béchamel or espagnole, it can just add a good rich base to a lot of sauces” Kaden reached into one of the bags he brought with him and pulled out a bottle of wine. “And you can add wine to about any sauce to make it better. Sort of a solid rule. Never fails.” As he started working, Kaden explained as he went, showing Roland exactly what he was doing, trying his best to elaborate on it. He wasn’t sure if it all made sense. But he tried and hoped Roland was getting something out of it. “Sure seems like you got more than you bargained for.” Hopping ranks too quickly? That didn’t surprise him. Roland seemed the type to throw himself into work head on, unflinchingly. Part of him figured that was a result of this divorce but maybe Kaden was mistaken and it was the other way around. “Yeah, it’s very different, that’s for sure. I actually was last in Montreal, though. Not as big a leap, but certainly different.”  Kaden stirred the sauce in the making, never taking his eyes off it as he did. “This is probably my first longer term job, believe it or not. Most didn’t really have ranks you could hop. Odd jobs are odd that way.”

“Very true,” Roland agreed. It would have stung much more if he had let himself grow more fond of Erin only to discover the truth. There seemed to be a joke that he didn’t quite get, but Kaden seemed to prefer writing it off. Outside the station, he didn’t make it a habit of pushing people to share. Butter, flour, and heavy cream seemed odd for a sauce, but he supposed flavored correctly it could almost be a picatta or alfredo. He still looked a bit confused as he looked over the ingredients. “Becham-what? I don’t think I’ve had that,” he said somewhat embarrassed even though both words sounded French. He’d at least heard about the wine thing if only because he likes the chicken in white wine sauce at the Cheesecake Factory. “I’ve heard about the wine thing before. Not that I’ve tried it in practice myself, but I’m not completely hopeless.” He realized he may have sounded a bit arrogant, but he knew his former boss was nothing if not insecure. If anything, Roland took pride in his officer moving up because it meant he was doing his job as a leader. “You’re telling me,” he said with a hearty laugh, “This place makes Boston seem like Disneyland. Just means we all have our work cut out for us to make this town a safer place to live.” He followed along as Laden started the roux and listened to the instructions closely before he touched anything. He listened, too, genuinely curious to know more about Kaden. “Montreal, huh? Went there once with my family on vacation. Definitely a different world. Seems like you’re pretty well travelled,” he noted. It was a bit surprising to hear this was his most long term job. “Do you prefer Animal Control to the odd jobs you’ve held in the past? You seem to have a passion for it.”

“Béchamel,” Kaden repeated. He didn’t expect Sarge to get the accent right, rarely did many Americans manage. “It’s similar to an alfredo, but different. You’ll see. Or taste, rather.” Kaden continued working the roux, making sure it mixed and thickened, but stayed light. “Really, so long as it tastes good, that’s all that matters. Cooking’s not too hard when you look at it like that.” He grabbed a second pan and placed it on the stove, gesturing for Roland to take a spot there and try his hand at it. With some guidance, of course. “This town certainly isn’t boring, you can’t deny that,” he said with a half-hearted laugh. “But yeah, I’ve traveled around a lot. Grew up in Lyon, France. Saw most of the country, not all of it of course, moved to Germany after--” Kaden clenched his jaw, stopping his sentence short. Strange how he got used to just casually talking about his parent’s death with so many people. Still wasn’t something he liked to just bring up out of nowhere. “Anyway, lived there a while, I’ve seen a lot of Europe, then came over to Montreal for a bit and now I’m here.”

It was strange to realize how different his life was here to his past. Weirder yet, he didn’t hate it. He was so fucking sure just less than a year ago that stability was the enemy and that it was the last thing he wanted; that it would make his life boring or pointless or just not worth living. Part of him hated how much he preferred things now. Another part wondered what things would be like if he’d opened himself up to things a little sooner. “Surprisingly, yeah. Love it.” He brushed his hands together, looking around for the next ingredient. “Never thought I’d be the type to like a structured job with all the authority and everything.” Kaden tapped the spoon on the edge of the pot, pausing before taste testing. “Not sure there’s any ranks for me to hop but I’m really good with where I am. Guess there’s probably room for improvement, all that.” He took a look at Sarge’s attempts at the sauce. “There’s some room for improvement there, too. But not a bad start.”

It didn’t come as a surprise to Roland that he couldn’t say the name of the fancy French sauce correctly. Even when Kaden repeated it, he looked at him a bit wide-eyed, and tried saying it again more slowly. Still didn’t sound the same, but it was probably at least a little bit closer. “I do like alfredo sauces,” he noted but failed to mention that he primarily ate the Lean Cuisine Chicken Alfredo. Hopefully, this roux tasted even better since the Lean Cuisine one lacked in flavor. It was really a matter of convenience. He didn’t have any sort of passion for food like some folks seemed to. It was a means to an end. “I guess you’re right there. Here’s to hoping all the frozen and canned food hasn’t totally destroyed my palette,” he joked with a laugh. He listened to as Kaden explained his travels and how he ended up here, but also carefully watched the ingredients being prepped. “Sounds like you’ve definitely seen a nice chunk of the world. I’m glad you ended up here though. Not everyone could do your job, especially in this town.” The records alone indicated just how aggressive the animal population was, but after that night stuck in that house with Marley, Roland realized just how dangerous Langley’s job really was.

He slowly stirred the sauce in the pot to keep it from coagulation and listened as Kaden spoke. It brought Roland joy to know that Langley found his job enriching. There wasn’t much room to move up within the department, but pay raises came based on performances and he’d love to hear any ideas Kaden had to help improve the department. “I’m glad you enjoy your job. From what I’ve seen, you’re good at it,” he said truthfully. He took a taste of the sauce and it wasn’t bad. Wasn’t great, but was definitely a step up from a Lean Cuisine. “Mm,” he started, “Definitely an improvement. But in all seriousness, if there’s any changes or efforts you’d like to implement within the department, let me know. I can put in a good word and help push things forward.”

“Sure have. There’s something to be said for stability though. Everywhere’s a little different, it’s good to travel, but it’s nice to have a home.” At least that was what Kaden imagined. White Crest was starting to feel more like a home than any place had in a long time. Lyon, sure, but that was  a long time ago. And even then. Kaden tried to hold back a laugh at the second part. Sarge has no idea how right he was that not just anyone could make it as an animal control officer in White Crest. Hell it took a literal hunter. And even then. “Thanks, though. Definitely glad you ended up here, too. Even if you’re probably way too good for this small town force.” He took a moment to taste Roland’s sauce. Not bad. “Add a little salt.”

At Roland’s offer, Kaden paused and his head tilted in thought. His sauce was all but forgotten for a moment. Did Sarge really trust him? Have faith that he knew what he was doing enough to-- “You’d do that?” was all he could manage to ask. He wasn’t even remotely sure how to feel about it. The only job anyone ever trusted him to do and do well was hunting. Hell, it was the only long term position he’d ever really held. “I always worry I’m screwing up more than not or that-- I don’t know.” That he wasn’t good enough. “I know I keep saying it but, thanks. I mean that. I’ll, uh, I’ll think on it.” A brief pause and a million thoughts flooded into his mind. “I mean I already know we need some more help I think. I know it’s a small town but even another part time officer on shift would help a lot. And, uh, maybe more snare poles. Stronger ones. Sturdier cages. And an outreach program to educate people on what to do wh--” In all his excitement and ideas, Kaden almost forgot the sauce. And that he needed to keep stirring. “Putain!” It was darker than he wanted. “Oh well, still better than a lean cuisine. I’m sure I can save it somehow. Yours looks pretty good, though. Good job. I think you’re getting the hang of it.”

“I get that,” Roland responded as he continued to stir the sauce. He wasn’t so sure if White Crest felt like home, especially not after what happened with Erin. It seemed to only reaffirm the notion that he was supposed to be alone in the world. It would inevitably make it easier. He had no disillusions about how he’d go out. The risks were apparent when he first joined the force so many years ago and even more so after his father died in the line of duty. He supposed he did feel a sense of responsibility for the community. Did that make somewhere home? He didn’t want to recall the last time anywhere felt like home. Instead, he’d take his sauce only needing a touch more of salt as a victory. He added a dash of sauce and mixed it in before giving it another taste. “I think that may be spot on now.”

Roland wasn’t sure why what he said to Langley came as a surprise. He believed in helping good workers grow and important departments expand. In this town, Animal Control was vital. What he and Stryder had seen in that house only proved that belief. “Of course,” he answered, “I wouldn’t have said it if I hadn’t meant it. You do good work and I’ve seen some of the more aggressive animals in this town. Your work is a vital part of public safety, If you have any ideas to improve that, I want to hear them and help make them happen.” He’d meant it. When Kaden started to excitedly list ideas, he couldn’t help but smile as he continued to stir his sauce. That kind of passion for the job was something he loved seeing, even if it wasn’t necessarily his department. A safer community meant the whole station was doing their job. He made a mental list of everything Kaden said. “More snare poles, but stronger. Sturdier cages. I’ll have to run the idea of another part time officer by the department head, but I’ll see if I can have some pull in that. Those all sound like good ideas, Langley.” He was a bit amused that Kaden had messed up his sauce and shook his head. “You may have gotten a bit distracted, but I think you know what you’re doing well enough to fix it. I’m pretty happy with mine. Definitely better than Lean Cuisine.”

“Right, yeah, of course.” Kaden was pretty sure the corners of his mouth were turning up into a smile. This was stupid. He knew he did a better job than most animal control officers in the past and certainly better than Gary. He also had an advantage over most people trying for the job in this town. Still, it just, it wasn’t all that often that anyone told him he did a good job. His work was vital for public safety. It was something he knew but the acknowledgement from someone else, someone he respected; it felt better than he could have guessed. And it was for something he did that was normal. Well, alright, it still involved hunting, but it wasn’t all hunting. It was a lot of mundane stuff, too. And he loved it, even during the hard parts. And he didn’t suck at it. Normally he didn’t suck at cooking, either, but at least he had helped save Sarge from a lean cuisine. “You’re right. This is one thing I know how to fix.”

#wickedswriting #writing #chatzy #roland #sgtrolandhills #taking whisks

[shootingcookielover]

I don’t know. This might be really bad. I can’t tell anymore.

Warnings

suicidal Roman

Characters

Roman, Janus, Remus, “Logan”, “Patton”, “Virgil”

Platonic, maybe romantic Roceit

The edge of Thomas’ consciousness always felt… off. It gave him the creeps, made his skin crawl with the knowledge that just one step was enough to… disappear. Forever.

Potentially. None of them knew for sure; none of them had ever tried. None of them had ever wanted to try.

There was a sort of warning in the air around the subconscious, something that made all the alarm bells in your head ring, your steps falter and your stomach drop. 

Like approaching the edge of a cliff when you’re afraid of heights.

Roman pushed a strand of hair out of his face. He pulled his sash into a more presentable position.

It did nothing to help with his looks, he knew. He hadn’t combed his hair that morning - or the morning before that, or the one before that- he hadn’t combed his hair for well over a week.

He hadn’t changed his clothes for the same amount of time.

Hadn’t brushed his teeth.

The last one didn’t bother him too much; there was no need to brush teeth of you didn’t eat, after all.

He had, however, slept a lot lately. 

Logan would be proud. The logical side had always insisted Roman sleep more, instead of staying up late to come up with more ideas. 

Thick fog rolled out of the subconscious, heavy and gray. 

It moved towards Roman, but stayed just an arm’s length away. He felt his own arm rising, moving towards the mist cautiously.

“Roman.”

His hand faltered. He quickly pulled it back. A scowl festered on his face as he turned towards the voice.

Towards Janus.

The snake-like side stood a few steps away.

“What do you want, you reptilian rapscallion?”, he asked, his voice a lot less scathing than he wanted it to be. 

Janus sighed. “I could ask you the same.”

Roman was about to retort, when the lying side spoke up again:

“However, I know that I am perhaps the side you want to see the least at the moment, let alone open up to. So I won’t ask. All I’m here to do is make sure you don’t do anything… rash.”

Without the creative side’s consent, words slipped past his lips. “This wasn’t a rash decision.”

His hands formed into fists. “I’ve been planning it for at least a week.”

Janus sighed. “That’s not…”, he cut himself off. “Listen, Roman, I know you don’t like me. But… neither of us wants this… not truly.”

The creative side huffed. “You don’t know what I want, snake.”

“I might not, but I know of your deepest desires. The ones you keep hidden deep down, the ones you lie about. I am those lies, Roman.”

The prince bared his teeth. A quiet growl grumbled in the back of his throat. Though he didn’t know what to say, so he kept silent.

“And I can help you achieve some of them.”

Another huff came from Roman’s mouth. His arms crossed. “How would you do that, Jack the fibber? I doubt you can get Thomas a main role in the next Disney movie any time soon.”

The lying side shook his head softly. “I’m not talking about Thomas’ desires. I’m talking about yours, Roman. The quiet ones you never talk about.”

He lifted his gloved hand, reaching out to the creative side. “All I ask for is a week.”

Roman shuffled his feet uncertainly. He couldn’t trust Janus. 

He had a plan. 

The subconscious’ presence made the air heavy with an almost depression-like feeling. 

It twisted around his heart. The fog behind him closed in, he knew it without needing to look.

Warning bells were set of by it. They sent pictures of his family into his mind, projected Patton’s excited smile before his inner eye, Virgil trusting him with careless touch, Logan admitting in a rare moment of quiet that, maybe, he actually did have emotions.

They lacked Roman’s reaction, to convince the creative side to step away from the subconscious, to take Janus’ hand.

He felt himself hesitatingly raising his hand. 

The dim hope growing in Janus’ eyes must have been one of the lies he was known for.

Slowly Roman’s fingers wrapped around Janus’ gloved ones.

“A week.”, Roman said, voice almost completely silent.

The lying side nodded. “A week.”

-

On day one, Patton showed up on Roman’s doorstep. He wore a smile that was just a little too wide.

“Pat!”, Roman greeted. It wasn’t Patton he knew that. “What are you doing here?”

“I haven’t seen you in a while, kiddo, so I thought I should check up on you!” The other knew as well.

“Well, as you can see I am doing marvelously!”

Patton shuffled his feet nervously. “There might be another reason that I’m here.”

“Oh? Well then, out with it, padre!”

“I was thinking that, maybe… you could show me around the imagination…?”

Roman blinked as he heard those words dripping from “Patton’s” mouth. They filled him with an excitement that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

He quickly stepped aside to let the fatherly side in. “You will be absolutely blown away by my astonishing creations!”

This was all that Roman had wanted to do with Patton. Show him the special places he’d created, his subjects, the fabulous creatures roaming his lands.

For Patton to enjoy it all so much, it filled Roman’s heart with warmth and love and if the fatherly side talked with one of the few snakes that didn’t know English, or perhaps let a few lies slip, Roman could overlook it.

-

On the next day, Logan knocked on his door. Roman was surprised to see the logical side with a plate of still-warm spaghetti in his hands.

“What brings you here, Logan?”

“I have noticed your absence from the last few weeks’ food-gatherings and, as starvation is known to be quite unpleasant, I have decided to bring you breakfast.”, his voice was just a little too robotic.

The logical side raised the plate in his hand.

Roman stared down at it as he slowly took it from the other’s hands. “...Thank you.”, he said, earnestly, voice wavering a little.

Logan nodded. “It is my pleasure. To make sure you actually consume the food, I will stay in your room.”

With those words the logical side pushed past Roman and sat down at Roman’s desk.

The creative side watched the logical one pull out a book.

Roman closed the door.

He finished his food quickly; he had been starving, hadn’t he?

“Sooo”, Roman began as he vanished the empty plate with a wave of his hand. “You gonna leave now, or…?”

The logical side snapped his book shut - a philosophy book; Logan hadn’t been fond of those. “Actually, I have been wanting to teach you how to play chess for a while now, so that we may ‘bond’ and become closer, therefore increasing our joint performance.”

Roman smiled at Logan. “I know how to play chess.”, he remarked, snapping a chess set into existence.

The logical side nodded. “Of course. I apologise for assuming.”

The creative side waved his words off. “It’s fine.”

Surprisingly, playing against Logan was fun and quite difficult. Roman had only ever been able to play with his own creations; they all had very similar strategies to his own, so the logical side posed an actual challenge.

And, if, perhaps, Logan got a bit too into the game, lisped and hissed a few times, then, well, nobody had to know.

-

On another morning Virgil stood at Roman’s door. 

He scuffed his feet at the ground, looking anywhere but the creative side. “...wanna watch some Disney movies?”

The prince blinked in surprise at Virgil’s forward-ness.

The anxious side crossed his arms, a light embarrassed blush rising to his cheek. He had yet to snap at Roman or give him a nickname.

Roman stepped aside, letting Virgil in. The anxious side entered, looking somewhat lost in the giant bedroom.

The creative side closed the door. “So… What movie do you want to watch first?”

Virgil shrugged. “What’s your favorite?”

Roman shook his head. “I can’t choose between them! I love them all equally.”, Virgil should know that.

The anxious side chuckled. “Right. How about… jungle book?”

Roman agreed.

If Virgil didn’t quite act like he usually did when he relaxed, then Roman didn’t mention it.

-

“Remus?!”

“Hey brother dearest!”

Remus slung his arms around his brother’s shoulders, effectively throwing them both of balance and landing them on the floor.

“Did ya miss me?”

Roman wiggled in Remus’ grasp, an exasperated sigh escaping his lips. “Not really!”

“Well, Double Dee told me to talk to you, so how’d you fuck up?”

Remus sat up finally, still cradling his twin between his legs. “D’ya kill someone? Rip out their heart and hid it in your closet and need a good way to get rid of it? Cannibalism can work!”

Roman shook his head. “No, I didn’t-!”

The creative side pushed Remus off of himself, before scrambling to get to his feet. “I didn’t murder anyone! I’m not…”, his voice trailed off a little as he brushed off his wrinkly clothes.

“...you.”

His twin stuck out his tongue as he flopped to the ground. “If nobody died then why are ya going through the stages of grief, brother dearest?”

Roman’s eyebrows twitched in irritation. “The stages of grief?”

Remus nodded seriously. “You’re at stage 2: Disheveled mess.”

The prince stared for a moment. His curiosity got the better of him. “...what’s stage one?”

“Murder!”, Remus responded gleefully as he jumped to his feet.

“Why did I even-”, he stopped himself. “You know what, I don’t care. Why are you here, Remus?”

The other twin pursed his lips. “I already told ya! Double Dee said you’re upset.”

He bumped his shoulder into Roman’s. “I’m still your brother, Roman.”

The prince had never heard his brother so… earnest.

“Now, wanna go slaughter some innocents? Maybe set an orphanage on fire?!”

Aaaaaand there it was. Roman pushed a stray strand of hair out of his face.

“No, Remus.”

The other twin pouted. “Fine, be boring, then!”, he walked over and flopped onto Roman’s king prince-sized bed.

The prince cringed at the thought of the dirt and disgusting substances Remus must have dragged on his sheets.

The duke rolled about the covers, relishing the bed that was not his.

“So, what do ya wanna do, brother dearest?”, Remus crowed, raising his head so he could make eye-contact with Roman.

A sigh and a plop accompanied Roman’s descent onto his favorite arm chair.

“I don’t know.”

Remus huffed as he pushed himself into an upright position. “Y’know I was joking before but you really are boring sometimes.”

Remus’ words were a strange deviance from the other sides. They usually told him he was “too adventurous”, took “too many risks”, was simply “too much”.

Crunch.

The prince looked up again to find Remus taking a bite out of his bed.

He blinked a few times before surging to his feet. “Remus!”

His brother screeched as he shoved himself backwards, away from his twin.

Roman landed face-first in his sheets. Remus fell off the bed.

He took off, cackling, throwing himself out of the window. 

The prince rushed after him. Remus was outside, running along the roofs of Roman’s capital city, with loud maniacal laughter trailing after him.

Roman quickly climbed out of his window as well. “Remus, come back, you ratman!”

-

There were exactly four knocks on Roman’s door the next day.

He pulled it open with a yawn. His legs still ached from all the exercise he’d done yesterday.

In front of him stood Janus himself.

The snake-like side wore a soft smile that looked just a little off on his face. 

“So, what is it today?”, Roman asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Janus shrugged. “I totally have something planned and don’t think we should just do what you want.”

The creative side snorted. “I thought you knew all my ‘deepest desires’.”

Janus sighed, adjusting his head and his stance. “Well, I can’t always distinguish between lie and reality, so.”, the snake-like side shrugged. “I don’t exactly know what you actually want when it comes to me.”

Roman decided to ignore the implications of that statement, instead stepping aside to let Janus in.

The snake-like side took the invitation. His eyes roamed the room, as though he hadn’t seen it before.

“You don’t need to keep up the charade, you know.”, Roman mumbled, slowly closing the door.

He didn’t turn towards Janus, simply leaning his forehead against the wood in front of him.

“...charade?”

The creative side scoffed. “I know it was you. Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to tell?”

A sigh. “...of course you knew.”

“What did you think you’d accomplish by pretending to be them?”, Roman finally turned around.

Janus stared back, an almost lost look in his eyes.

There were tears brimming in Roman’s eyes. “Because all you’ve accomplished is making me feel even worse. You gave me what I can never have. Do you actually want me to dive into the subconscious?!”

Janus winced. He fiddled with his gloves. His eyes were averted. 

Roman raked a hand through his hair. The tears spilled, finally. “You do.”, he breathed, leaning against the door behind him. “Great. Maybe I should just-”

“No!”

Roman’s eyes snapped open again. Janus was almost shaking.

“I do- I don’t want you to do that! I… didn’t think…”

Janus stumbled back, there were tears brimming in his eyes too.

“You didn’t think what?!”, Roman snapped.

“I didn’t think you’d want to hang around me!”

Roman’s fist collided with his wall. Pain spiked up his arm. “That’s a terrible excuse!”

Janus flinched. “I… I know. I just…”, he pulled his hat off, fiddling with the rim. 

“All of this is garbage!”, the words fled his mouth as Roman slid down to the floor. He buried his face in his hands. “We’re both garbage.”

Hesitant steps.

“I… I really am sorry. I didn’t-”, a sigh, “...give me another chance.”

Roman glared up at Janus from in-between his fingers.

“Another week.”

The snake-like side pulled one glove off his trembling hand. The left hand. Scales littered the skin there.

He held the hand out to Roman.

The creative side scoffed. 

“...half a week?”, Janus weakly offered.

“...please?”

He sounded so much like Patton it almost hurt.

Roman took the hand. “Half a week.”

-

Roman and Janus spent half of the next week together. They traveled through the imagination again, they played chess again, they watched movies together again.

They played video games together, they baked in the dark sides’ kitchen. They stole Remus’ diary - an old tradition Roman had given up on a long time.

The days passed quicker than the creative side had expected. When the set time-frame was over, he found himself back at the edge of the subconscious.

The lazy gray fog didn’t reach out to him this time.

The alarm bells in his head were so much louder now, than they were before. With Patton, Virgil and Logan there was a new face smiling in his mind’s eye, trying to dissuade him from doing this. 

Janus. 

“I suppose I failed.”

Roman sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “You didn’t.”

“...then why are you here?”

The creative side turned around, facing the snake-like side. A small smile graced his lips. “For old time’s sake.”

Janus gave a tiny smile himself. “Let’s leave.”

Roman took his hand and nodded. “Let’s leave.”

#sanders sides #roman sanders #suicidal thoughts #suicide attempt #janus sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders

[haveanotherkpopblog]

Little Snow White

Pairing: Seokjin x You

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fractured Fairytale!AU

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Swearing, Mature themes, Minor character death

There are many renditions of the tale of “Snow White”, but the real story is only known by few. So before we begin, let’s clear a few things up. The story is not about a ditzy princess and a blood thirsty, ostentatious queen. There are no seven dwarves or happy-go-lucky songs. Now that that’s been cleared, let the story begin.

Once upon a time, in a kingdom far far away, a prosperous, young prince had recently assumed the throne. The prince knew he was a handsome man, with lips red as the rose, hair back as ebony, and skin white as snow. He became known as the Little Snow White Prince. Yes, Prince Seokjin was as fair as they came.

But with his beauty, came with vain and envy. The young prince was foolish and spent the kingdom’s money on himself. His royal advisor, a wicked and power hungry man, let Seokjin waste the kingdom’s money. Soon the villages grew poor and sickly. They grew angry as the prince blindly spent their money, unaware of the Royal Advisor’s increase in taxes.

Riots began to break out, but the prince remained oblivious to it all. Until he was forced out of the castle. The Royal Advisor had told him if didn’t leave, the rioting villagers would kill him. So the Little Snow White Prince left, with nowhere to go and no one to turn to.

To make his point apparent, the Roya Advisor sent his best hunters after the prince. They chased him into the woods, letting nature take care of him. For many days, the Prince wandered alone, lost within the vast forest. Cold and starving, Seokjin stumbled upon an old house. It was falling apart and was covered in a layer of dirt, but, in his desperate state, he went to the front door and knocked feebly. Just as the door open, sleep deprivation took over, leaving him passed out on the front steps.

When Seokjin woke up, he was in a hard bed, covered in an itchy blanket. “Hello?” he called weakly. When there was no response, he heaved himself out of bed. He walked to the door, pulling the heavy wood open. Voices echoed from down the stairs. Slowly and silently, he crept down the stairs. As he drew nearer, he could hear what the voices were saying.

“Who is he?” asked one voice, followed by a yawn.

“I can tell you who he is,” came the voice of a young boy’s voice. “He’s that no good Snow White, the Prince who reduced us to nothing more than orphans.”

“Jungkook,” warned another voice.

“Namjoon, he has a point. We have nothing. The Prince took everything we had and then some.”

“But did you see his condition?” asked another. “He was on death’s front steps.”

Having heard enough, Seokjin stepped into the doorway. Six boys sat around a small table. They fell quiet when they saw Seokjin. “You’re right,” he mumbled, wrapping his arms around himself. “I am Prince Seokjin, the Snow White Prince. I’m--I’m the reason everything is in ruin.”

The six boys looked at Seokjin in pity. He was just a kid like them, alone in this world without a home and no family. “What are you doing here?” asked one of the boys. He had brown hair and was wearing soot covered clothing.

“I was cold and I just--”

“No, what’re you doing here? Alive? The Royal Advisor said you died.” Seokjin stared at the boys.

“N-no. I’m very much alive.”

“Then why aren’t you in the castle?” asked another boy. He had blonde hair and was wearing a shirt made of carpet patterns and grey pants. “Why did the Royal Advisor say you were dead?”

“Obviously he’s a power hungry psycho who let you do whatever you want. Oh my god, he wanted this to happen,” the one referred to as Namjoon said. He had a black, dread mohawk and was clad in baggy clothes.

“Whatever the case, I left and I am not going back,” Seokjin declared. He sneezed, shivering slightly. “I thank you for your hospitality, but I should get going.”

“Yes, you should.” Seokjin guessed this was Jungkook. He couldn’t be more than ten-years-old, dressed in clothes too big and with unkempt hair.

“You’ll die out there,” said Namjoon. “You need food and rest. You should stay here.”

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Nonsense! After all, you’re one of us now.” The boy who had spoken had spiked, black hair and had a mask covering the lower half of his face. “Welcome to our mini family of rejects. I’m your hope, you’re my hope, I’m J-Hope. That’s Suga” J-Hope pointed to a boy sitting in a chair tucked away in the corner. He had orange-red hair and torn clothing. “That’s Jimin, V, and Jungkook. And this is our leader, RM.”

Seokjin nodded to each boy. He felt strangely at ease with the six boys. The leader stepped forward, offering his hand. Seokjin smiled, shaking Namjoon/RM’s hand. Welcome to Bangtan, Seokjin.”

“Jin. Call me Jin.”

From then on, the Snow White Prince was Jin. Ten years passed, and with each passing day, Jin grew more fair, both in beauty and personality. As the years went by, Jin grew alongside the boys, forming special bonds with each of them. His time with them had humbled him. For the most part. He cooked for them and nurtured them.

With the passing years, the kingdom continued its steady decline. With the decline, the boys turned to the old abandoned mines. They reinforced the support beams and began mining for precious gems. Each day they tunneled further and further, collecting diamonds, rubies, emerald, and sapphires. They supplied the villages with enough jewels to keep them sufficed and the rest were hidden away. The villages grew fond of the seven boys, they grew to love the seven boys.

Riots continued to break out. Their money was continually taken and thrown into a vault. The people rebelled. Change was brewing on the horizon.

A young woman was running through the woods, desperately trying to outrun the Royal Advisor’s hunters. She wandered around the forest for some time before she stumbled upon an ancient hobble. She cautiously approached the house. She tried peeking through the windows, but it was too dark to see anything. She turned the knob of the front door and found it unlocked.

Stepping through the door, she found it was most definitely not abandoned. In fact, it was practically spotless. She ran her finger across the bookshelf in the front room. There wasn’t even a speck of dust. She wandered around the house curiously.

She went up the stairs, peeking into the different rooms. There were six in total, but there were seven beds. She walked around one of the rooms. It was the simplest room, a bed and a nightstand. Tucked away in a corner was a vanity without a mirror. On the vanity sat a bejeweled brush.

“For such a dingy place, they sure have a lot of nice things,” she thought. A yawn slipped past her lips. She sat down on the bed which, to her surprise, was extremely comfortable. She laid back, letting her eyes flutter shut.

Jin marched home with the boys as he did every night. He watched the boys, observed how they’d changed over the decade he was with them. Taehyung’s hair was now an ash grey, and he had somewhat grown into his limbs. Hoseok’s once black hair was now red and he’d ditched the mask. Namjoon had (thankfully) lost the dreads and now had strawberry blonde hair. Jungkook, whom had grown the most and to love Jin the most, had traded in his loose-fitting closely and chose more form-fitting clothing. Jimin was now blonde and had more comfortable and colorful clothing. Yoongi had bright blue hair and took to wearing baggy clothing.

Jin looked down at his own apparel: dark clothing. He knew his hair was still black, but it had been ages since he’d gazed into a mirror. He never wanted to be reminded of who he used to be. He’d even gone as far as to have the mirror in his vanity removed.

Jin’s thoughts were interrupted when Namjoon stopped at the edge of the clearing where their home lied. He motioned for the boys to be quiet. They all slowly approached the edge of the clearing, peering around the trees. All the lights in their house were on.

“Who do you think is in there? Thieves? Hunters? Pirates?” Taehyung asked with wide eyes.

“If we were being robbed, they wouldn’t have turned the lights on? If it were hunters, there would be horses. Pirates wouldn’t be in the middle of the forest?” Yoongi pointed out.

“Then who’s in the house?” Hoseok inquired looking back at the house.

“We’re not going to find out cowering behind trees,” Jungkook said. Before Namjoon could stop him, Jungkook dashed towards the house. The rest of the boys followed, careful to remain quiet.

Jungkook opened the front door, peeking his head through. After making sure the coast was clear, he let the other boys in. They split up and searched the lower level of the house. “Anything?” Namjoon inquired softly. The boys shook their heads.

A rustle made them whip their heads towards the stairs. They all exchanged looks before quietly ascending the stairs. The rustling was coming from Jin’s room. They approached the room slowly. Pushing the door open, they silently crept into the room.

They stopped when they saw whom had made the noise. A beautiful maiden laid fast asleep in Jin’s bed. She was clad in tight leather and looked at peace. Jin stared at her in awe. He’d never seen someone so beautiful, ever.

“It’s--it’s a girl!” Taehyung squeaked.

“She’s really pretty,” Jimin said, his cheeks rosy.

“She’s trouble and she needs to leave,” Jungkook huffed.

“Oh, you’re a big, ol’ grump,” Hoseok whined. “She’s not hurting anyone.”

“She broke into our house,” he pointed out.

“But she didn’t hurt anyone,” Hoseok countered.

The girl shifted. Voices pulled her from her peaceful slumber. Opening her eyes, she saw seven boys around her age, standing around the bed. She let out a surprised and all seven heads turned towards her. They stared at her, a range of emotions on their faces.

“Uh, how do you do?” she inquired. They continued to stare at her. “Um, I said, ‘how do you do?’.”

“How do you do what?” one boy snapped. She stared at the boys in shock. She examined each of their faces carefully, until you got to the last boy. He was quite handsome. He had red lips, black hair, and skin white...as…

“Little Snow White!”

Jin stared at the girl. It’d been years since he’d heard that name, let alone someone call him by it. He stared at her curiously. “Who are you?” he asked cocking his head to the side.

She stared back at the handsome man, almost caught in a trance. She couldn’t believe she had found the Little Snow White Prince. Though, he wasn’t exactly little. He was quite tall and had extremely broad shoulders. “Y/N,” she answered. “Who are you guys? Do you live here?”

The boys shot nervous glances to Namjoon, unsure what to do. “Yes, we live here,” he replied stepping forward. “My name is RM, and these are my brothers: J-Hope, V, Suga, Jungkook, Jimin, and Jin.”

Y/N nodded, eyes stills fixed on Jin. He was watching RM, avoiding her gaze. “What’re you doing here?” he asked.

“I-- uh--I pissed off the Royal Advisor’s hunters,” she told him, sparing him a glance. “Pro-tip, when they say, ‘drop to your knees’, don’t reply with, ‘I’m not your mother’.” The ones called V and Jimin giggled.

“As fascinating as your story is, it’s time for you to leave,” Jungkook announced. “We don’t need a troublemaker here.”

“Please don’t send me away,” you pleaded, jumping to your feet. “My village is dying, but since I found Prince Seokjin, there’s hope!”

“Prince Seokjin is dead,” spat bitterly. “The boy you’re looking for is long gone. If you want to help your village, you’ll leave.” Jin walked out of his room, heading to the kitchen to start dinner.

Y/N chased after him, ignoring the other boy’s protests. “How could you say such a thing?” He ignored her. “Excuse me, I’m talking to you.” He continued to ignore her. “Your people are suffering! They’re dying and need their leader. They need you, do you even care?”

Jin slammed down the knife he was holding, spinning around. The heartbreak was evident in his eyes as tears threatened to spill. “Of course I care! I’ve always cared. That’s why I left. I was only fifteen when I accumulated the throne, and in a matter of months the kingdom fell. By the time I realized what had actually happened, it was too late.”

His confession brought tears to Y/N’s eyes. She blinked them away. “You may not have been able to do anything then, but you can do something now,” she offered. He shook his head.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Fight, dammit!” you shouted. “March in there and demand your throne!”

“And you just believe they’re just going to hand the throne to an orphan prince because I said so?” Jin retorted.

“Yes, I do believe. And I’m willing to bet those other boys believe in you too.” Jin stared at Y/N, his gaze cold and hard.

“This isn’t some fairytale. Wishing on stars isn’t going to magically fix everything. I’m sorry, but you’re wasting your time and your village’s.” Jin turned away, resuming making dinner. “Feel free to stay for dinner and the night. I know how the hunters can be.”

Y/N stormed outta the kitchen, angrier than a disrupted hornet’s nest. A hand grabbed her arm, pulling her into the hallway. The six boys were staring at her sympathetically. “Don’t take what he said to heart,” Jimin told her.

“It’s a sensitive topic for him,” J-Hope added.

She sighed. “But why? Why isn’t he willing to fight for us? You guys would stand with him, wouldn’t you?”

“We’d die for him, but that’s not the point,” Jungkook said.

“The point is, what can seven orphans do?” She looked down at her feet, deflated. Y/N felt she had to convince Jin to do something. Or there would truly be no hope for the kingdom.

Jin made dinner in silence. He let himself sink deep into thought. He let his mind wander. He thought long and hard, about nothing and everything. Jin ate dinner in silence. He let Hoseok lead the conversation as he retreated further into himself.

As Jin was about to climb the stairs, he saw Y/N lying down on the couch “Hey, uh, Y/N,” he called. She glanced over at him. “Do you want to, um, just--follow me.” She stood up, making her way to him.

He lead her up the stairs, to his room. “You can sleep here,” he told her, lighting a candle.

“Where will you sleep?” she inquired.

“Downstairs,” he replied simply.

She grabbed his arm, shaking her head. “I understand you’re trying to be a gentleman, I’m not going to kick you out of your room,” she told him. He opened his mouth to say something, but she held her hand up, silencing him. “I also know you’re not going to let me sleep downstairs. So, I propose we share the bed. It’s definitely big enough, and, if the boys say anything, they’ll get a jab in the shoulder. Deal?” A ghost of a smile crossed over his face. He nodded.

Y/N fell back onto his bed, happily surrounded by comfort. Jin climbed in next to her, pulling the covers over the both of them. She asleep almost instantly, but he stayed up, watching you in wonder. He didn’t know what it was, but you left him in awe. And with that feeling, he drifted off to sleep.

Jin woke up to her sleeping form next to his. He stared at her. She looked at peace, and he was slightly jealous. Though Jin was content with his life, he could never truly be at peace. There was always a dull ache in his chest. It was why he never went to town, seeing the people shattered his already cracked heart. He ran a timid hand across her cheek before he carefully crept out of his bed.

Y/N awoke with a set plan. Jin wasn’t in bed with her. She sat up slowly, stretching her arms. Sunlight shone through his window.

She went downstairs, finding the house completely empty. In the kitchen, a nice breakfast sat with a note. “Enjoy breakfast, it should last you until you reach your village. x Jin,” it read.

She threw the note down in disdain. Of course he would try to get rid of her. Right when there was glimmer of hope, someone messed it up. She needed to show him just how much the kingdom needed him. How much she needed him.

When Jin arrived home, the scent of apples enveloped him. He slowly made his way to the kitchen, to her. He leant against the door frame, crossing his arms. He followed her movements intensely. “Didn’t realize you were the apple pie type,” he commented.

She turned around, an amused smirk on her face. “I’m not. I actually really hate apples.” The ghost of a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“I smell something amazing,” Taehyung called. He jogged into the kitchen, slightly drooling.

Jungkook followed, sniffing the air excitedly. The other boys soon followed suit, sitting down at the table. “Hope you boys like apple pie,” Y/N hummed.

Jin sat down, staring at her with a quirked brow. He may have spent the last decade shut away from society, but he knew a bribe when he saw one. He watched her intently as she set the pie in front of him.

“When was the last time you went into town, Seokjin?” she asked sitting across from him. Jin closed his eye, clicking his tongue.

“We’re not discussing this--”

“Actually, we are,” Y/N interrupted. “You see, I decided to do some digging. The town knows you’re alive. What’s even better is that they believe you’re putting together an army. They’re preparing to fight for you.”

“I’m not making anyone fight for me!” Jin exploded.

“You’re not. They’re doing it of their own free will. They need you Seokjin. They need the their Little Snow White Prince,” she replied softly.

“She’s right.” Everyone turned to Jungkook shocked. He was staring at Jin with a wide range of emotions on his face. “The people need you--we need you.”

Jin’s voice broke, “I can’t.”

Hoseok took Jin’s hand, clutching it. “Jin, you’re our brother. We know you. We believe in you,” Hoseok told Jin.

“You don’t want us to fight for you? We won’t. But we’ll fight with you,” Namjoon added.

“This is who you are Jin. You can’t deny that anymore, but you’ll always remain our brother. Always,” Jimin assured him.

“How? How can I fight? Lead?” Jin asked staring at his hands.

“Rally the people. Show them you’re ready to defend them. Show them you care,” Y/N said exasperated. An idea popped off in her head. “I’ll train you.”

“What?” all seven boys asked at once.

“I’ll train you. What? Why do you think the huntsman wanted me on my knees, because I’m pretty? No, it’s because I know my way around a sword.”

“Can we trust you?” Jungkook asked crossing his arms. “No offense, but someone who has multiple hunters after her is a bit suspicious.”

“As of right now, I’m your only hope,” Y/N told him honestly. He shrugged, convinced; the other boys nodded in agreement. Jin continued to stare at Y/N. She intrigued him, but so did a good murder mystery. He tilted his head, evaluating her.

“Okay,” he finally said. “Train us.” Y/N smirked triumphantly. “There’s just one condition.”

Y/N’s smirk dropped as she stared into Jin’s eyes. “Tell me, what’s your angle? Why are you so adamant on me taking down the Royal Advisor? After all, I’m sure a woman your… stature, is more than capable of doing it yourself.” Y/N stared at him, chest heaving. She licked her lips, eyes shifting from boy to boy.

She straightened her spine, staring Jin dead in the eye when she answered, “He’s my father.”

There was silence as everyone watched Y/N. Then Jin slowly stood up, moving around the table. He grabbed her with one arm, yanking her out of the chair and tossing her against the wall. He took his forearm and pinned her against the wall. His normally soft, brown eyes were now swirling black orbs as he stared her down, his broad stature towering over hers.

“You treacherous snake,” he hissed. “Your father took everything from me, from my brothers. And you have the damn audacity to ask for my help?”

Y/N swallowed thickly. “I know I don’t have the right to--”

“You’re damn right you don’t!”

“--but please, we need your help,” she pleaded.

“Screw you,” he spat. “I’d rather die than help you.” He pushed off of you, turning around.

“Then don’t do it for me, do it for your people.”

“I should kill you and his wretched bloodline,” Jin seethed. Y/N turned her head away, hurt. Jin knew he’d crossed the line, but he refused to apologize. He was hurting. It was like she’d taken a serrated knife and slit open old scars.

“Wait, am I the only confused by the fact that the Royal Advisor has a daughter?” Jimin interrupted. Taehyung murmured in agreement.

“Good point, if your his daughter, how come we’ve never heard of you?” Suga asked. There were murmurs from the others.

Y/N dropped her gaze, staring at the floor. “My father was, unimpressed, with me being a woman. After all, what man wants a daughter as an heir. But considering my mother died in childbirth, he worked with what he got. He--he turned me into a weapon. A weapon he could use at his disposal,” Y/N growled. The boys shuffled around awkwardly. “If you think I’m working for him, toss that idea out the window. I resent him and everything he is and has done.

“Seokjin, I’m begging you, please. Help us. We need you--I need you. Seokjin. Please.” Y/N and the boys stared at Jin.

At the boys stares, Jin relented. He sighed, collapsing into the nearest chair. He ran a tired hand down his face. “Fine. I relent. Teach us what you know.” Y/N sighed in relief. “But if at any point you betray us, I won’t hesitate to kill you. This is your last chance to leave.”

Y/N stared at Jin, eyes ablaze. “I’ll see you at dawn tomorrow. Evening gentleman, Seokjin.” Y/N nodded her head before heading off to sleep.

Time and Y/N were not kind to those boys. Everyday, from dusk to dawn, Y/N trained the boys. She trained those boys not only in combat but in etiquette, something the boys truly lacked. Months of training and the boys were finally turning into men. Well educated, mannered, and trained men. They were slowly warming up to her, the pies helped with that. Well, six of the seven boys were warming up to Y/N and her pies.

Jin was another story. No matter how hard Y/N tried, he always kept her at a distance. There were, of course, moments when he would let his guard down, where the two of them could get close to each other. Sometimes emotionally, sometimes physically. Jin was an enigma of a man.

“You’re ready.” You stared at the boys, thoroughly impressed with how well they’d done in training. The boys cheered, heading inside for celebratory drinks.

Y/N followed but she went upstairs, to Jin’s room. He was standing by the window, his broad, and now muscular, body covering most of it. His forearm rested against the window frame. “Are you sure they’re ready?” he inquired, not turning his body away from the window.

“No, but it’s now or never Seokjin,” she told him.

He inhaled sharply, tisking. He pushed himself away from the window, but continued to stare out it. “I told you not to call me that,” he reminded her.

“You didn’t have a problem with it a couple nights ago,” she said smirking.

“That’s why it’s a problem now,” he explained. “We don’t do anything until they’re a hundred percent ready.”

“That’s time we don’t have,” she said stepping into the room. “The time is now. They know the plan, and they’ll be able to defend themselves.”

Jin stalked towards Y/N, his frame towering over hers. “After all these months, how are you still so adamant about this?” he whispered, mouth brushing the shell of her ear.

“You know why.”

He hummed, resting his hands on her waist. She gripped the edge of his sweater, pulling him closer. He nudged his nose against hers, brushing his lips across hers.

He pulled away when she leant in, pulling her hands away from his sweater. She jaw clenched as she snatched her hands away from him.

“It’s time to rally. Be dressed, downstairs, and ready to leave,” she ordered leaving.

Y/N stood downstairs, lacing up her boots. She slipped on her gear, strapping it on tightly. The boys filed in, strapped in their gear. “Damn Y/N, if things work out, you know where my room is,” Suga whistled, eyeing her shamelessly.

She grinned. “Might just take you up on that offer Sugaboo,” she said with a wink. Jin rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “Alright boys listen up.” All eyes turned towards Y/N.

“This is how things are gonna go. J-Hope and V, you’re both going to to the center of town and cause chaos. Amp the people up, start riots, liven up the revolt. The hunters will be drawn to you. Keep them there.

“Jimin and Suga, you two will be leading the volunteered fighters to the front gates. The majority of the guys will be sent to ‘handle’ you. Give them pure hell. Keep them there.

“Jungkook and RM, your guys job is the most important. You’ll be taking on the Royal Advisor’s personal guard. They’ll be stationed outside of whatever room he’s in. Get them away from the room.

“Jin and I will take out the Royal Advisor. Once he’s gone, Jin will take back his throne and he’ll restore order.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, I was wondering where you’d skipped off to,” the Royal Advisor cooed. She tensed, faltering under his intense gaze. “I s’pose you’re here to kill me, Seokjin. My, how you’ve grown. You know, you look just like your mother. Gorgeous woman, smart too. She was lethal, but I was smarter.

“Where are my manners? Please have seat. Sit, sit!” the Royal Advisor said waving his hands. Y/N and Jin sat down, side glancing each other. “The Little Snow White Prince, here to reclaim his throne. I must say, that’d make quite the story.”

The Royal Advisor set his gaze on to Jin. There was a glint in his eye, an angry, dark glint. Jin refused to break under his stare. Jin sat up straight in his chair, matching the Royal Advisor’s hard stare. “You know how this has to end,” Jin said.

He nodded. “I’ll go quietly, on one condition.” He spared Y/N a warning glance. “I want you to take one bite of that apple.”

Jin turned to the one red, shiny apple on the table. His gaze shifted between the apple and the Royal Advisor. “Just one?” He nodded. Jin shrugged, grabbing the apple.

It was almost to Jin’s mouth when Y/N snatched it from him, taking a bite. Jin quirked a brow. Y/N began to choke, foam dripping from her mouth. She dropped to the ground, spazzing uncontrollably. Jin called out to her, but she gave no response. Then she stilled, eyes fluttering shut.

“Well that took a surprising twist.”

Jin turned to the Royal Advisor who had a look of complete indifference. “Such a pity, really,” he added peering down at her. “She could have been so much more.”

A new sensation burned its way through Jin, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Jin turned to the Royal Advisor, hands trembling. He gripped the hilt of his sword, jaw clenching. “You son. Of. A. Bitch,” he spat through clenched teeth.

He pulled his sword out, swinging. The Royal Advisor narrowly dodged the blow. He pulled out his sword, and the two of them engaged in epic battle. Swords clashed together echoing off the stone walls.

“You took, my throne.” Clash! “You destroyed, my kingdom.” Clash! “You killed Y/N!” Jin knocked the Royal Advisor’s sword from his hands, sending it flying. Jin brought his sword to the Royal Advisor’s chest, forcing him to his knees.

“The Royal Advisor chuckled darkly. “You don’t have the balls to kill me, boy.”

Jin’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening. “See you in hell, bastard.” Jin drove the sword deep into his chest. Blood sputtered out of his mouth as he fell to the ground, sword lodged in his chest. Blood pooled on the ground around him, standing out against the white tile.

Jin rushed to Y/N’s side, cradling her body. Tears spilled down his face as he apologized profusely. The boys came barreling in, stopping upon spotting Y/N. The boys bowed their head, tears streaking their cheeks.

Jin clutched Y/N to him, her back to his chest. He rocked her back and forth, sobs echoing through the room. His continuous motion formed an almost Heimlich maneuver, but it was enough to dislodge the small bit of apple lodged in her throat.

Y/N coughed herself back to life. She glanced up at Jin. “I believe I once told you, ‘I really hate apples’,” she said. He laughed in disbelief, fresh tears stinging his eyes. She turned her head to the boys. “You guys look like shit. Have you guys been crying? Bitches.” The shook their heads at her, smiling.

I’d like to say everything turned out fine and dandy, but that’s not the way the world works. The entire infrastructure of the kingdom’s economy had all but fallen. It would take years to rebuild everything, not to mention the money it would cost to do so.

Y/N and Jin worked for years on rebuilding and fixing things. Jin moved the boys into the castle, giving them jobs as his personal guards and let them help him in the rebuilding. Over time, the two of them married and built their own family, their own happily ever after.

So, I guess every story does have some type of happy ending.

#haveanotherkpopblog post #bts #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #bts au #bts fics #bts one-shot #bts one shot #bts fairy tale au #bts jin #bts seokjin #bts kim seokjin #jin #seokjin #kim seokjin #jin fics #jin fluff #jin angst #jin smut #jin au #jin one-shot #jin one shot #seokjin fics #seokjin angst #seokjin fluff #seokjin smut #seokjin au #seokjin one-shot #seokjin one shot

[gwtwoimpsarewe]

Welcome to the Family

So, this story won’t make a lot of sense without context; but I’ll save that for another post. I wrote it to enjoy it and it’s my first full OC full prose. Hopefully ya’ll enjoy it too.

A quick helper tho set after the prologue bound by blood. So mild? Spoilers? 

Lorcan Vulthon - Norn, Roughly about 26 (circa 1332),(Ex-)Wolf Shaman,  (Ex-)Auxiliary Iron Legion Engineer, Vigil Initiate. Yes he was raised by wolves. (Not literally) 

Zariah Dào - Human, Roughly about 42 (circa 1332), (My Commander for the game, but operates under Lt. Commander to allow for easier rp), Warmaster of a Vigil Company, Lorcan’s new Boss, Has not tapped out since Claw Island. 

Veeck - my necromancer reaper I haven’t made but am taking from an old DnD character of mine, Asura, age unknown, The Deacon of Pain,  

A jungle stalker, tiger and one other feline mini follow him around that’s the joke. One of the JP’s for the Tiger den Achievement is what sparked this. 

Not sure what to tag it but it starts funny ends feelsy, found family vibes, if descriptions of eyes squick you (no harm just who’s looking at you, sudden eye contact etc) be wary or pass on, fluffy angst I suppose, emotional breakdown,

it ends happily I swear! 

(Don’t panic if things seem to change, I post and edit as I go otherwise I get locked in perfectionism spiral and never post at all.) 

-

“Boss.” 

Eyes shielded from the setting sun, Lorcan peered out over the landscape, comm at the ready. 

“Boooossssss.” 

Dusk crawled toward the horizon. Hazy smoke trails blown over the open fields lazily from the nearby mill, an end of a lovely day, on all accounts. 

“Boss!” 

The receiver came to life in Lorcan’s hand with an exhausted sigh of static as Lt. Commander Zariah sluggishly answered, “Yes, Lorcan. What is it?” 

The smile pulled over Lorcan’s face, unable to resist the urge to tease. “Kinda, an odd time of day to be sleeping sir.” 

It was utterly incredible how he could feel the dry stare-down and complex half lecture on the misuse of communications equipment in a brief pause. 

That was talent right there.  

Another sigh brought his attention back in, “I wasn’t, thank you, did you need something?” 

Brightening, Lorcan sat down in front of the mess of fur and leaves, “Yeah! I found your cat bed!” 

“… What.”  

Lorcan gestures at the pile of leaves at his feet although his officer couldn’t see it. “Yeah! One of your Sylvari, the one with the monotone-” 

“-Ours, and their name is Eir, -” 

“-Said one of your weird tiny death machines-“ 

“-Again, wild animals, and not mine-” 

“-Yeah, yeah, the striped one ran off and went to bed everything-” 

“-Tiger; and has been making beds not bedding, your Common is improving-” 

“I found one!” 

The crackle and whine from a heavy static sigh made Lorcan wince and pull the device from his ear. 

“...… You’ve found a tiger.” 

Something about the suddenly calculating monotone made his insides squirm as he forced the cheerful up another notch. “Well no, but I’ve found its bed, and now we have each other’s scents, and I probably will find it and we’ll form a life-long bond like rangers and shaman-” 

“Lorcan.” His name came gently, cutting off his rambling in a way that had nausea setting in. 

“I’m grateful you found one, does it look fresh?” The genial tone was almost disconcerting after seeing nothing but jaded exhaustion, and it was wrong. 

This was not how this works. 

This was a crank call. Because he’s Lorcan. The rambling loud, obnoxious idiot whose superiors while agitated are fond of. Lorcan, who did not want to do this all over again but here they are, and Zariah! Who’d barely known him three days! 

Who took him in without blinking after getting cut off from his war-band, who trusted him enough for a reconnaissance mission. Who put up with all his antics so far with a droll but benign stare; who—

A rustling came finally, along with the clink and slosh of what Lorcan knew to be the large mug of coffee usually in hand. 

“Lorcan-” 

“Stop that,” his throat felt tight, half leaping to his feet into a defensive stance, “You—Don’t-” The plains suddenly felt suffocatingly small, leaving him on edge and snarling into his comm. 

Burn him, what was he doing. 

“Lorcan.” 

“Stop that!” his ears were burning, eyes stinging against the smoke in the air. It was his name; it was just his name what the tar was his problem? 

The placid silence that followed nearly had him throw the damn thing down onto the rocks. Embarrassment burned viciously under his skin. He was better than this now. He wasn’t- 

“Lo-” 

He turned the comm offline. 

-

It was long past dark by the time he’d calmed down, eyes red and throat raw, hunched at the base of the tree.

Great first impression.

Really sold it this time.

Groaning, he dug his face into his knees to do something other than mope in the dark like a moody cub. Or worse start up again.

A skittering of rocks and not entirely muffled metal had him look up in time to see a silhouette with an obnoxious Asuran light nearly blind him.

“Mind if I come over? You turned your comm off.” Zariah inquired tilting his head to the side just before the last jump. “I can stay over here. Just wanted to-”

Lorcan waved him off with a flippant hand and shoved his face back down. “Make sure I hadn’t broken-”  

“-Your bones. Yes. Or anything else important to your personal self.” Zariah moved over the outburst with both a note of finality and comfort that had Lorcan looking up out of instinct, only to wince again at the mini sun in his Commanders hand.

“… If you're going to jump over, douse the Mouse-Light. Before I lose my eyes.”

 Immediately, the object dimmed down and out before far more familiar sounds came and a torch sparked to life. “Sorry about that, but I’ll ask you to refrain from derogatory names. Veeck is a valued member of our team and cares deeply about our survival.”

“… The Asura.”

“Yes.”

“Who rambles on about some new Entity?”

“Of Pain, yes.”

“… Boss.”

“Not up for debate, Lorcan.”

Heaving to his feet with a sigh, Lorcan reached out to him; “Well, can’t let them upstage me now can I. C’mon I’ll catch you; it won’t give you enough light without the M--……. beacon. From the Deacon.”

Zariah landed with a grunt into his grip. “You’ll have to share that one, they’d love that-what is that an idiom?”

“Not a clue.” Wearily sitting again, Lorcan stopped short as something small and purring wormed its way into his lap. “… Uh…”

“She likes belly rubs, and she can smell tears.” Was all Zariah offered settling next to him and safely anchoring the torch in front of them, while the Stalker wiggled about before she settled solidly into Lorcan’s lap. Big eyes batted up at him, as if pointedly proving Zariah’s point; said belly up and offered.

Slowly, Lorcan answered the demand, a new deeper slew of purrs unleashed in repayment. “I thought you said they’re wild.”

“They are. Or were, a few years ago. They found me in the Maguuma, when Mordremoth was; well you know.” came the easy answer, as Zariah set about digging in his pack and handing over a wrapped meat smelling something to Lorcan who merely blinked at it.

“You haven’t eaten since before you left and I know how Norn eat. Eat your dinner.”

Gingerly, Lorcan accepted the meal; before peering at him. “… Does this get any weirder?”

“Only if you let your guard down long enough for them to steal it.”

“Wh-Hey!”

 -

They sat like that a long while, quietly; with a lap full of warm purring death machines, a belly full with warm food and drink, and tired eyes watching the torch slowly burn down to a smolder.

The lecture never came; the ‘we’re alike you and I’ speech, the wise mentor talk, whatever he’d been expecting. Zariah just sat there, relaxed and was… well, there.

But then it made sense didn’t it. He was a tactician for a military organization, one of the high tier leaders in the Pact, leader of his own company; and Lorcan was an accomplished engineer and a perceptive people's person when he wasn’t being difficult. 

There wasn’t anything to say.

He’d freaked out, he didn’t want to freak out, but he did. He’d reverted to causing a scene and trouble because he was a full inferno of freaking the blazes out. About what any of this meant now. About where home was now. What he would do now. What his purpose was now.

Had another identity crisis in an evening flat because he kept trying to put it in a title. Wolf Shaman, Auxiliary Charr—anything that wasn’t just him. How else could he go back and show that he’d changed after all? Prove he was all grown up out of his awkward paws making a mess of everything.

Except he hadn’t had he-

“pWaCKth!”

Lorcan spat fur out of his mouth, leaning away from the incessantly batting paws from his lap companion.  “Hey! Hey! Hey! C’mon!”

“I told you. She smells monologues.”

“You said tears.”

Stretching out with an innocent hum that edged too close to playful to pass as sincere, Zariah rose a brow at him, “Mm? Did I? I must have misspoken. So terribly sorry.”

The words pulled a snort out of Lorcan at the obvious lie, “So, what, she just slaps you in the face at random? Or she’s just psychic and knows when you're spiraling every time.”

Turning towards him, Zariah rose the brow higher, something of a smirk toying in the corner of his mouth. “Oh, definitely a psychic; when I need it. Constantly. She can tell usually because,” His eyes glanced meaningfully at Lorcan’s lap, “I’ve ceased to pet her.”

Lorcan paused, looking to where his hands had fallen stagnant some time ago on her back, much to the indignant pout on her face. “… Oh.”

“Well.” He chuckled at his own obliviousness and began smoothing hands down her head and spine apologetically, much to her delight, “S’a good trick.”

“She tries.” A yawn dragged out the end of the sentence as Zariah settled down more against Lorcan’s side who moved to accommodate him.

Eyes glanced at the time curiously, “Aw burn me, Boss I’m-”

“Safe.” That firm tone was back again, even as exhausted as it sounded. “And that’s all I care about. We’ll go back when you’re ready.”

“Don’t you have paperwork to do?”

“Great thing about paper, it’ll be there when I get back.”

“What about orders? Don’t you have to know what’s”

“Anything I need to know, I’ll know through my comm, if it’s of immediate importance. As for orders, there are other commanders.”

“… How many hours you running on here?”

“Two and a half, I was in fact sleeping when you called me.”

“Boss-” An incredulous laugh cut short by an overused stubborn excuse.

“I had coffee.”

-

Silence lapsed again, softer as the torch barely glowed embers and Zariah’s breathing began to deepened, and slow against his side.

It wouldn’t have made sense for how lax Zariah was, after seven years of nearly non-stop war and fighting; if the moon wasn’t glinting off four Iron Legion Sharpshooters standing guard nearby that Lorcan could now see.

“Boss?” swallowing around the lump in his throat, Lorcan nudged him again. “Hey, Boss.”

There was a slurred hum, eyes not even opening as Zariah lifted a brow in answer “Mmn—yes Lorcan.”

“… Thanks.”

“S’ what ‘m here for.”

-

Epilogue (aka beeps an giggles)

For the weight of a Pact Commander, Zariah was unnervingly light once you removed the pack, armor, weapons, felines, etc.

Which Lorcan awkwardly got to know firsthand as the pint-sized (seriously how small was this guy) Asura fussed around this way and that muttering too fast to keep up with.

It was a very odd feeling of you break it you buy it, with the Commanders sleep schedule. Which cemented in his mind as no one else seemed bothered by the ranting Asura at his feet. 

“-two months! Two months! Not even! We were so close, on ordered leave, relaxing, vacationing, nearly had it! But no! The evil little box of death opens its evil little mouth and ruin everything! This does not please the Pain!”

Lorcan made the mistake of uttering “Does anything,” before realizing the error as he became the subject of the bespectacled, laser sharp, owlish gaze before off again as they moved in thought. 

Finally, with a decisive nod, they firmly shouted up to him, “…… Milk! Milk and Ink!”

(Seriously did the guy think he was deaf? Though they looked like they’d fit into his boot with room to spare, and he wasn’t exactly short himself.)

A tiny hand lifted into the air, fire in their eyes; “I shall explain!”

“Please don’t.” Lorcan begged.

“Easy Squeak-A-Veak, lets save converting until after we get Boss back to bed for a few hours. We’ve already got orders to meet up with General Soulkeeper in the morning.” Came the beautiful rescue from one of the other officers Lorcan couldn’t put a name to.

Whose hands lifted up immediately in a placating gesture, as the tiny Asura looked ready to implode, “Rephrase, to head over to General Soulkeeper in the morning.”

Small detonation avoided, the medic, nodded with minimal professional sulking, “He’s napping on the way there.”

“As always, you can try small fry, you can try. Eir wanted to see you; I’ll see that Boss gets settled yeah?” Offering a fond amused look, they winked at Lorcan who wasn’t honestly sure what to do with himself at this point of being ‘Boss-shelf’.

Veeck squinted but turned and left with a toddle out of the room. “I know what you’re doing and I don’t appreciate it but yes I will leave and stop scaring our recruit.”

“… Wasn’t scared.” Came late and lamely as the officer chuckled and lead him in to where Zariah was staying for the time being.

Which for the first few moments Lorcan was sure they got the wrong room before he finally spotted a bed past all the paperwork. “Is that a war table?”

“Mini-sized yeah, Rye sleeps in his office, it was the only solution after a long drawn out internal war lemme tell you.”

“How is that a win?”

“He used to do it on a cot armed with a coffee pot, and don’t worry about Veeck. Squeakers is harmless; they get dramatic with displeasure and pain cos it’s like a prayer offering? I think? I’m trying to follow it but I need a few more run throughs. They’re a lot calmer day to day.”

“…….. Oh! Good to know, thanks—ah…”

“You forgot my name already didn’t you.”

“……………………..”

Laughing they helped settle Zariah down and into bed, even tucking them in. Which by this point, Lorcan had one final question.

“…… Sooo, kinda curious. Why he’s not; you know.”

“Twitchy as fleas about being handled like a doll? He usually is, but this is day four of small naps and I made his coffee decaf. He’s out cold for the next three to five hours.”

“Burn me.”

“It’s a good thing, say goodnight if you want; just hit the lights when you're done. I’m catching a few myself before we hit the road.” They offered with a wave before heading out.

Lorcan absentmindedly gave a wave only to perk and try to call out; “Wait! You didn’t--…… tell me your name. Tar’nfeathers.”

Sitting down with a sigh he glanced over at Zariah, and with a crooked grin leaned over. “Night Boss. Still totally going to steal your tiger.”

A brow raised as tired, but amused eyes snapped open, “Still totally not going to let it happen.” Zariah challenged as Lorcan shrieked with a flail and fell off the bed. 

“Burn! Tar! and Feather You!”

Yawning with a final chuckle, Zariah listened to him stalk off and turn out the lights. “Good Night, Lorcan.” 

“Welcome to the family.” 

#Lorcan #Zariah #Original Content #Writing #gw2 #gw2rp #personal fic #Tags to edit later #The epilogue is a drop in quality because it was for ha has #My Oc's #The Vigil #Guild Wars 2 #lws5 spoiler warning #if your confused your fine #I haven't posted a lot of my characters arcs and stories #if any #so #tada confusing first peek #editing out any naughty language was hard forgive me if i missed any #I will fix if Ifind any

[far-away-stars]

THE EXTREMELY DETAILED OC ASK MEME for Iegan AND Apate!! I warned you. :P Stay tuned for more. Probably.

There you are. At the best of my abilities. may it curse your sleep and bless my crops. :’D

under cut cause it’s damn fucking long. 

Illyrio

1. Age, Birthday, Star Sign

So, I don't really have month/day precise birthdays for my ocs? :'D I don't even know how that would work on SW and I suck at star signs so… I can say Illyrio is born in 3682 BBY and that makes him 42 during the events of Makeb (which is the year he meets Muhn, if that works as a reference), and that I fancy calling him a Scorpio cause I guess it kinda fits. 

2. Gender Identity

Cis man. It never really went further for him, he always was comfortable that way.

3. Orientation and Relationship status (single, taken (by who?), crush (on who?))

Bisexual. Married to Muhren in 3637 BBY in canon universe; alternatively fancying his mess agent Blakk in other ones and .. well, both in some others. >>

4. Race and Ethnicity

Human, in SW standards, and then I couldn't really go in many more details 'cause, well, I still kinda want it to apply to his universe rather than trying to stick Earth labels and I don't have a clear faceclaim… let's stick to "not white".

5. Height and Body type

He's 1m77 aka 5'9". He's not overly muscular, but still very much in shape. He has a pretty athletic body even if he's essentially built for agility.

6. Headcanon VA

I cannot find headcanon VA for the love of me, so, well, I suppose simple the Inquisitor VA for now. :'D Euan Morton is a Broadway actor and singer after all.

7. Occupation

Dark Council Elite, leader of the Sphere of Expansion and Diplomacy, with direct oversee on the Voss' diplomatic situation.

8. Weapon of Choice(?)

already answered here

9. Hometown and current residence

He was born on Ziost, in a slave breeding and training facility. He lived some years in an apartment at Dromund Kaas but now has set residence in his mansion on Voss, despite his work not often allows him to spend long periods of time there.

10. Do they have any markings, piercings or scars?

They have a number of scars, most prominent being the slave marking on his face, the whip scaring on his back and the lightsaber mark on his chest.

11. Do they have any notable features, like horns, tails, or so on?

Aside from the slave markings and, I guess, the white hair (not that much of a significant feature when alien races are involved :'D ) he doesn't really have any, no.

12. Own any pets?

Nope, thank the Force, he doesn't have to deal with his daughter's Nexus anymore and he's happier this way. 

13. Have any kids?

Yes, his daughter Khatyrkite, that he had at 23 and adopted when she was 7.

14. Can they cook? Can they bake?

No. Let's leave it to that. :’D

15. Can they sing? Can they dance?

They can sing but it's not that easy to make them. They can formally dance with dignity, but not much else. Too rigid.

16. Can they drive?

Yes, but prefers to be driven around.

17. Can they fight?

Yes, double-bladed lightsaber and Force training. When younger he was also quite dangerous bare-handed but he hasn't trained that skill in a while.

18. Have any special keepsakes?

Not really… his lightsaber, I suppose. Old beads for his braid. But he isn't emotionally attached to many of his belongings. 

Interests

19. Hobbies

Some not-so-light reading, meditation, napping, listening/going to the Opera.

20. Clothing/Aesthetic

Dark clothing with gold accents, rich reds, furs, and expensive tastes. Sith aesthetic meets some vague Arabian vibes and have a hedonist child.

21. Fave food(s) and drink(s)

He likes finger-foods; salty, small quiches are probably some of his favorites. As a drink he likes fruity and spiced wines, cold or hot.

22. Fave Color

Blood red.

23. Fave Genre

History books.

24. Fave Season

Autumn.

25. City or Country?

He spends enough time in the city working, so country for his relaxing times, but he wouldn't give up the comforts of the City easily.

26. Guilty Pleasure

Power? Witch sometimes turns into sex.

Storytime

27. What’s their family like? Who’s in it? What’s their relationship with them?

Before Muhn his family was basically only his daughter, Khatyrkite, and they were close, despite Illyrio's initial efforts not to be so. She grew on him and managed to slowly but surely make his fear more of an after-though. He didn't want to get attached to someone so easy to love. An alien child with no practical education thrown into the Academy of Korriban? Khatyrkite had to work hard to prove she could do it. And he did make her work, considering it necessary that she could prove and defend herself without her father's title to protect her. They have great affection for each other, even of it's often left unspoken, and even if not as strong as before, they still have their Force bond to prove it, even to each other.

28. Are they literate? Did they go to school? How long? What level? 

They are literate, and learned most of his basic knowledge during slave training. The rest he took up keeping company to the young Master during his studies and generally during slave life. Then there was the Sith Academy and then he was taken as an Apprentice and Abraxas finished his education. He learned the rest on the way.

29. What was childhood like?

Not much of a childhood, let's say that. Studies, collars, biological engineering, slave training directed into obedience and alienation to self.

30. What was adolescence like?

Spent serving as a company slave in a high ranking noble family in Ziost. Let's say stunted.

31. What’s their current main conflict?

Finding any peace between overworking and starting to let go but risking losing status/power and a certain state of security born from habit.

32. What steps have they taken to overcome this conflict

Trusting more of his emotional baggage, vulnerability and work on his husband.

33. How have they changed over time?

He has become less.. unstable. Sith training following his slave one had pushed on many of the emotions he had been repressing beforehand, so, well, it made for a powerful Sith, but not much of an emotionally stable individual. He got in touch with more of himself and on what truly he wanted to be for his Muhn. 

For Fun

34. What’s their room look like right now?

It's a mix between his rich but organised deco and Muhn's pretty clutter and his plants. Rich, elegant colors overall, generally elegant but comfortable looking, cushions, big bed, big windows, woods, a library. His room is his comfort place, really, and probably one of the rooms he spends more time in aside from his training room and the gardens.

35. What are they like as a friend?

Bad. Bad-ish.

36. What are they like as a partner?

He.. gets better at it, given a little time. >> The sex is good.

37. Do they have any phobias?

They are not fond of deep waters, but can manage them. They detest Force inhibition devices.

38. Did/do they go anywhere special for vacations?

They haven't gone in one in… dam forever. They wouldn't know at this point, really. It's a mix between wanting to be in a place where he wouldn't be recognized and his desire to keep his status and power close.

39. Your character walks into a cafe. What do they order?

Rich, hot, spiced coffee.

40. What time do they go to bed, usually?

Depends, they are very used to an irregular sleep pattern.

41. What’s their morning routine like?

Depending on how much time they have, the very least composes shower and a minimum of beauty care, they usually pick their clothes the day before. They usually snack something quick if they have the time and take a caff or directly a stim, if need be.

42. What’s the dumbest thing your character’s done?

That's not to be discussed here.

43. What pokemon would your character be (if they’re already a pokemon/gijinka tell us what they are, and how that’s affected them)?

I.. don't really know? Struggling between a dark type or simply a snob-looking one.

44. What’s their pokemon team? Try to pick all 6.

Dear Force, so.. Any snake Pokemon is valid and he should have them, this being said : 

Arbok

Serperior

Ninetales

Spiritomb

Sableye

Chandelure

+if I may, a couple of legendaries that rule the Sith snake aesthetic :

Zygarde

Shiny Mega Rayquaza

45. Theme song (and a playlist if you’ve got it!)

I will always put "How can I refuse" here, no matter the consequences. :'D

46. If this character was in a musical, what would their motif be (what kind of instruments do you hear, what’s the tempo, ect).

Oh my god, I don't have that knowledge. Something low and a bit fear-inducing, but with a melody of strings, violins and violas, cutting it like the fresh falling of rain in between dark, tempest-heavy clouds. Some quiet, deep, rich drums.

The Deep Lore™

47. What was this character’s biggest turning point in their life, something that changed them almost completely?

Discovering he was Force Sensitive.

48. What was their lowest point? What was their highest point?

Lowest : his years at the Academy. Highest : Becoming a Darth/marrying Muhn.

49. What are some themes tied to your character’s story? I'm sorry, I'm getting too stuck with some of those deep© questions, I'm giving them up for now. :'3

50. What are some motifs associated with your character?

Villainous behavior, hedonism, manipulation, pragmatism, hyper-emotionalism.

51. What were some inspirations for your character (people, movies, games)?

Well, the Inquisitor storyline from STWOR, certainly, tho I didn't end up keeping much of it. Aside from that nothing really comes to mind but I'm sure I'm missing stuff. :/ In six years he has been through stuff.

52. How are you and your character the same? How are you different?

We struggle with other people's expectations and we don't want to be seen as weak or exploitable, I suppose. For how different we are I suppose the rest is pretty more obvious, but, mhn, I blame myself much more quickly, despite my barriers, so, well, instead of killing people I just get sad, I suppose. :'3

53. Expectations vs Reality: what did you expect and what did you get with this character?

I expected a hot, sassy, dark side playthrough. I guess I didn't expect the angst, the fluff and the attachment. :'33

54. What does your character want, and what do they need?

He wants power, but he needs to unlearn what truly gives him value.

55. What’s your character’s core trait? What’s their best trait? What’s their worst trait? When happens when these all interact with each other? see point 49.

56. What’s your overall goal with this character? Will they get a happy ending or will they succumb to their faults?

They.. eh. I don't really believe in endings? People go on, one way or another. He's much more than a simple narrative for me, now. If I were to just see how much he has already done in his life I would say he's in a happier place now, so, I'm glad. But that's not who he is either. It's not about getting him fixed, not really

---

Apate

1. Age, Birthday, Star Sign

Born in 3678 BBY, the rest is not in my book. :’3

2. Gender Identity

Non-binary/agender, intersex.

3. Orientation and Relationship status (single, taken (by who?), crush (on who?))

Bisexual, kinda taken by Kitty, but it's in the "it's complicated" folder cause we technically didn't even set a meeting point for them. :'D also, precedently entangled with Mikawlas, and generally involved with many other . >> 

4. Race and Ethnicity

Togruta. Their faceclaim-ish is Ezra Miller, so some ethnic inspiration there.

5. Height and Body type

They are 1m81 aka 5'11". They are slender with some athletic features, especially on the abdominal area. 

6. Headcanon VA

I have no clue. :'D I'm sorry.

7. Occupation

Went from sex worker to owner of the Golden Rose Pleasure Center.

8. Weapon of Choice(?)

Sniper Rifle. They don't really consider their body or their pleasure expertise a weapon, no matter its potentialities.

9. Hometown and current residence

Grew up in a Coruscanti orphanage, now resides on Nar Shadda.

10. Do they have any markings, piercings or scars?

Aside from their natural Togruta markings, nope, and if they were to get them/had got them in the past, wouldn't hesitate to have them removed.

11. Do they have any notable features, like horns, tails, or so on?

Lekku and Montrals? :'D they are curved in the front so they do catch the eye.

12. Own any pets?

No. They didn't have the position for one for a long time and then never really gotten to it. Probably scared they would do a bad job taking care of one.

13. Have any kids?

Nope.

14. Can they cook? Can they bake?

They can't really, no. :'3 they can manage a survivalist meal but they essentially rely on other to get food.

15. Can they sing? Can they dance?

They can't really sing, but it's not a passion of their so they never really did any practice worth of it. They can dance, but only a selection of simple things, essentially for their job. They don't mind dancing casually, and are pretty good at it. At least, they are pretty to look at doing so.

16. Can they drive?

They can, they shouldn't, but they can. :'D

17. Can they fight?

They are better at ranged combat, but they can throw a hell of a fight nonetheless.

18. Have any special keepsakes?

I'm not sure if they have anything of Mikawlas, or even of their orphanage life.. they spent too much time on the street, if they managed to salvage something during those years it would certainly be a precious possession for them. 

Interests

19. Hobbies

Taking care of themself with beauty products or with a mani-pedi is a luxury they couldn't afford for a long time and it does marvels to their mood so they indulge in gladly it when they have some me time. Also they have a sometimes strained relationship with their looks, so making themself pretty makes them happy. Aside from that they like simple pad games, to run and spend some time in shooting ranges.

20. Clothing/Aesthetic

They like shiny, they like precious fabrics, gold, their heels, shorts, skirts and dresses, some fashionable frills and classy, eye-catching outfits. 

21. Fave food(s) and drink(s)

They like experimental foods, jellies and escargots the most probably. If they could only drink vodka and lemon sprite they would. Also champagne.

22. Fave Color

Rose Gold.

23. Fave Genre

Detective/crime stories.

24. Fave Season

They haven't experienced much of those, living mostly in ecumenopolises, so, if it's not artificial weather they probably would have complaints one way or another. Something temperate I suppose, late spring.

25. City or Country?

City.

26. Guilty Pleasure

Aside from sex? Mhn. The thrill of the hunt, maybe. But both of those things have been incorporated in jobs for a long time, so, well, aside from having a particular relationship with both, defining them "guilty" pleasures is complicated. I guess they like being pampered, sexually or not, so there's that.

Storytime

27. What’s their family like? Who’s in it? What’s their relationship with them?

They don't have a family, nor good memories from the orphanage, so, probably the closest they got to family was, first, at Madame's institute, where they really come in touch with a positive collective/community. They started coming in touch with themself and with others in a way that was more than family than ever before. Of course they wanted to rebuild that with the Golden Rose, even if it became with times more "officious" with the number of workers and clients and regulations that came with it. But they do want people to feel safe with the Rose, and want them to feel at least a little bit like family.

28. Are they literate? Did they go to school? How long? What level? 

They are literate, and studied at the orphanage until they left, so, they are not very knowledgeable after that. They didn't continue studies, only tried to pick up some decent bases to start being more independent after Madame picked them up. They worked hard to be functional as owner of the Golden Rose, and that's where they are at. 

29. What was childhood like?

They weren't very happy at the orphanage, didn't felt like they belonged. It ended up with them running away, so...

30. What was adolescence like?

A mix between rebellious orphanage life, naive Nar Shadda and bling/bling fascination and the basically spoiled, responsibility-free life as a Crime Lord doll. It was.. maybe not as practically formative as it could have, overall.

31. What’s their current main conflict? I'm sorry, I'm getting too stuck with some of those deep© questions, I'm giving them up for now. :'3 

32. What steps have they taken to overcome this conflict? see above

33. How have they changed over time?

They became more self-aware, more conscious of themself and their choices. More independent, and such, with a bigger presence, allowing them to also create better and stronger bonds with people. With a helping hand they started shedding all the bad preconceptions they had on their life, even if it really took years and years to come to terms with some truth about themself and their past, but well, they got back on their feet. Now they have a house, they pay bills, they own and handle a host house that oversees many people that Apate wants to protect. So, well, I can't really tell how they changed, cause they didn't, not really. It was still them, all along, but I guess they own themself a bit more every day.

For Fun

34. What’s their room look like right now?

It's a pretty big room, but essentially on the minimalist side. Very clean and shiny, with its marble floors and big window on the High District. It's not cluttered and Apate doesn't spend that much time in it, but when they do they find it more peaceful for it to be essential but pretty and expensive looking in its decor and composition.

35. What are they like as a friend?

Devoted, sometimes harsh and too up-front, but also generous and affectionate.

36. What are they like as a partner?

They haven't had much experience in that field yet, so, maybe, distant, even if not on purpose. They are not really used to the practicality of building ties so ever-present and strong, they are still very much used to deal with things on their own. But very sweet, very tactile, very inquisitive, playful.

37. Do they have any phobias?

Of losing themself in someone's idea of them. Again.

38. Did/do they go anywhere special for vacations?

They haven't taken a vacation in ages, they want to quite bad. Anything different from Nar Shadda would be welcome, but they probably want the pampering vacation treatment. They do have an affinity for water, because of their ex, so maybe somewhere they could swim a bit.

39. Your character walks into a cafe. What do they order?

Everyday something different, they don't like caff but drinks it daily so spicing things up is their way. Now it's usually Terjam that buys caff for them, so they enjoy being surprised.

40. What time do they go to bed, usually?

It depends, the Rose usually "opens" late in the morning and closes later at night, but it depends if there are events or not, and if Apate has plans or not. They are more akin to the night life, and Nar Shadda Never really sleeps, so it's not unusual for them and some friends to have late evening shopping sprees or date nights or such. It will depend on how much work there had been during the day.

41. What’s their morning routine like?

They take their time. They wake up slow and then stretch and drink water and then shower, quick breakfast with either milk/yogurt/sweet cheese and some fruits while listening to radio/the news, and then make up and dressing up and then to the Golden Rose where they take a coffee and some pastries with Terjam before starting work around 10:00.

42. What’s the dumbest thing your character’s done?

Thinking it was a good idea to escape to Nar Shadda with no money or friends or knowledge of the city at the peak of 15 years old.

43. What pokemon would your character be (if they’re already a pokemon/gijinka tell us what they are, and how that’s affected them)?

Zughhh... Tsareena.

44. What’s their pokemon team? Try to pick all 6.

Shiny Goldeen

Gorebyss

Mega Diancie

Mega Altaria

Alola Ninetails

Sylveon

45. Theme song (and a playlist if you’ve got it!)

I don't really have one, ahh… Lady Gaga-ish feelings, but not as "hard".

46. If this character was in a musical, what would their motif be (what kind of instruments do you hear, what’s the tempo, ect).

Mhn, something lively and clear, but with a solid accompaniment, like some piano. Maybe a discrete but deep beat underneath, like almost a techno base.

The Deep Lore™

47. What was this character’s biggest turning point in their life, something that changed them almost completely?

There's been two. One when Mikawlas died, and Apate found themself mourning, furious, hurt and dependent on the little skills they had to survive from there on. The second was when Madame picked them up and helped them detox and then got them back on their way to manage themself independently and redefine boundaries in a way that could better connect them to themself and a thriving comfort zone.

48. What was their lowest point? What was their highest point?

Apate almost lost themself, and skipped many steps of their emotional and practical development growing up in not-so-healthy environments. They never really had a family, they rushed and yet mellowed through their adolescence without any real friends of their age, they suffered a big loss pretty young and then started living off favours and on the street without really a support and foundation to evolve. 

Then they got back to their feet, and found their ambitious drive again, and created the Golden Rose and wasn't that just *chef kiss*.

49. What are some themes tied to your character’s story?

Former drug addiction, stunt in personal growth and past trauma being overcome, sex work and its relation to their own sex drive and desire, curiosity and extroversion, sex positivism, grooming, fashion and beauty care.

50. What are some motifs associated with your character?

Unsuspected assassin, Diva, fashion expert, sexy and capable, sass master.

51. What were some inspirations for your character (people, movies, games)?

Mhnhnjnnnn I dunno. There are pieces here and there but.. nothing that flashes in my mind. 

52. How are you and your character the same? How are you different?

We like shiny things. They can pull it off.

53. Expectations vs Reality: what did you expect and what did you get with this character?

A character for smutty action, and I kinda got myself into angst but also a more vivacious and free-willed character I expected. 

54. What does your character want, and what do they need?

They want the Golden Rose to thrive, they probably need a vacation.

55. What’s your character’s core trait? What’s their best trait? What’s their worst trait? When happens when these all interact with each other? see point 31

56. What’s your overall goal with this character? Will they get a happy ending or will they succumb to their faults?

Same as Illy's point.

#that was so long #aaaah #:'D what a mess #I hope it makes some resemblance of sense #oc : illyrio #oc : Apate #ask : Illyrio #ask : Apate #thank you for the ask(s) #u evil xD #askshivanulegacy

[hnrywinchester]

Fare Thee Well- - 19

Summary: She hasn’t seen Gabriel since he died nine years ago, then a phone call changes everything.

Pairing: Gabriel x OFC

Series Warnings: ANGST, smut, swearing, PTSD Gabriel, character deaths, canon compliant.

Beta’d by: @aquietuniverse

Words: 6k

Gabriel stood in stunned silence, Bobby Singer’s arms still locked tightly around him. His eyes shot over to Liv, who was staring at him with just as much shock as he was her, her mouth slightly parted and eyebrows furrowed. Whatever was happening clearly made no sense to her either. He knew she’d known Bobby Singer in their own universe, she’d always been fond of him, but how this Bobby knew them was a mystery, but they obviously had a history. Seemingly, a sad one.

Fingers gently laced with his as the older man’s arms finally released him, her grip comforting as he quelled the anxiety pounding in his chest. He could feel her own unease as she pulled herself in tightly beside him, her shoulder bumping against his arm, and he needed her closer. Pulling his hand from hers, he wrapped it around her upper body, nestling her into his side.

“It’s damn good to see you,” Bobby spluttered, his voice cracking as he stared at Liv.

This wasn’t her Bobby, and she wasn’t his… whatever he thought she was, but she’d have been lying if she tried to say she didn’t want this to be real. Her head was swimming in emotions, she couldn’t land on a thought or word. All she knew was Bobby was standing in front of her— Bobby—and Gabriel was beside her; if her dad showed up she would have sworn this was heaven.

“I don’t… I don’t understand…” she stuttered, her tongue thick and heavy.

“Yeah… what she said,” Gabriel added on.

“Yeah… guess you wouldn’t,” the old man sighed in response, reality crashing down around him, “Funny though, you two, still...even in other universes…”

“Care to elaborate?” Gabriel coaxed, keeping his voice firm.

What did he mean, still even in other universes? Gabriel hated this place, everything was wrong, and off, and unsettling, now added in were doppelgängers of dead people. Dead people that happened to mean a lot to the woman curled into his ribs.

“Why don’t we go somewhere more private,” Bobby suggested, and Gabriel shook his head no, “Okay… Well, I don’t know where to start.”

Nowhere private, nowhere hidden, it was here and now, “I tend to like beginnings,” Gabriel demanded, his need for answers growing.

“I guess we had our own versions of you two over here,” Bobby began, his tone melancholy.

“Had?” Liv pressed quietly.

“Yeah… when Michael found out his brother was shackin’ up with a human… things didn’t bode well.”

For a moment, the world stopped spinning, and if he’d had the juice he thought possibly it literally would have. This was another universe, another timeline, another one of dad’s failed plots, and somehow they were still together. Here in this world, he’d loved her, just as he did in their own, and she loved him. He didn’t know whether to scream or cry or panic… So many questions flitted through his mind but one stuck out more than all the others.

“So we’re dead,” Gabriel stated, Liv gasping as Bobby’s face fell, he didn’t need to say another word for her to know it was true.

“We… we tried to get you guys out, as real a life as one can have here,” Bobby retold, guilt weighing on his words, “A little place in Indiana, we warded it with everything we could but… they found you. I drove out to bring you guys some supplies and… and it was a damn massacre.”

“Thought you didn’t like my kind over here? Why was I even around?”

“You were always the exception. After all, you did rebel against heaven and it’s armies, joined forces with us…”

“Why?”

“Her.”

The answer didn’t surprise him. He’d do the same thing now, hell he basically had. Liv was trembling, this wasn’t settling well. For him it was almost comforting, however. To know that even alternate versions of himself had chosen her over all else just validated so many doubts he’d been carrying. Maybe this was as destined as he always thought it was, how could it not be? Had Dad written her into his life somewhere down the line? Like, Gabriel, you’re going to fall in love with this human and she’s going to absolutely consume you. It seemed like a Dad thing to do.

“You know her, obviously very well,” Gabriel continued in his interrogation, “How?”

“I loved her like she was my own,” Bobby reminisced, his eyes falling away in grief.

Liv wrapped her arms around Gabriel’s middle at the confession, and he tightened his around her in response. This was all a lot to take in. She’d had some alternate persona here, died, Gabriel died, and now Bobby was here saying they had some parental-like bond, which exceeded the relationship they’d had in her own life. Sure, she’d had a real soft spot for the seasoned hunter, he’d spent many years cleaning up after her and there was no denying they’d been very close but to say he’d loved her like his own? No. Somehow here, she’d filled the void left by the Winchesters in Bobby’s life, they’d obviously just failed miserably at saving the world.

“When did I come in?” Gabriel went on, he needed every facet of this version of them he could, he needed to piece it all together.

“Oh, way back before the Apocalypse. Maybe, two, three years? Thought you were the Trickster for the longest time. Then she comes home one day sayin’ she’s in love with your candy-eating ass and that you’re actually an archangel,” Bobby answered, a fond smile playing at his lips, “I trusted her. Took every ounce of self control I had not to lock her as far away from you as I could get her, but she was dead set on you bein’ one of the good guys. Then, when you finally came around, and I saw the way you looked at her, like she hung the freakin’ moon herself, I knew she was right. No one can fake that look, not even you.”

So the timeline seemed to be the same. This was written somewhere. It had to be. It was just a shame the bastard had run off, he’d never get an answer now. The question weighed heavily, was this supposed to happen all along? In the grand schemes of the universes, were they always going to end up here?

“I need to know where,” Gabriel demanded.

He needed to go there, he needed to see it. He needed to know.

“Why!?” Liv spat, pulling herself away from him, “What’s it matter?”

“It just does,” he stressed, reaching back out for her hand, she wouldn’t understand.

“I can’t…”

Ripping herself away from his attempt at reeling her back in, she stalked off. He knew he should follow after her, but he also knew at this point it would be futile. She needed sleep, and food, she’d gone too long without both and that wasn’t helping the situation at all. He was also well aware that her thought process had ended at finding out they were dead. She’d want to hear no more, and he knew it was solely because he was gone, not so much herself. He knew it was a recurring nightmare, one she’d lived with for far too long. 

“She needs food, and sleep. Can you help?” Gabriel requested, his voice and expression exasperated.

“Oh yeah, there’s a mess hall up around the corner and then just… find an empty tent, most everyone here has staked their claim on what’s theirs but there should be a spare floating around,” Bobby replied, and Gabriel responded with a curt nod, “Oh and Gabriel… Battle Ground, Indiana.”

He laughed to himself, how fitting. Before heading out to begin his search for his fuming hothead, he located both the food and the tent, grabbing small things he’d know she’d eat and setting it in the old, canvas hut. It was tiny, barely enough to fit them both, but it’d do to get her a few hours. He didn’t like that everything was off here. How was he ever going to find her if he couldn’t even sense where she was? Water, she’d be near some kind of running water, she gravitated to it but the last place he’d seen any was ten minutes outside of camp. If she’d left this warded safe zone she was in for a world of trouble, he’d see to it himself.

Slowly, he wandered around, hoping to catch sight of her in his familiar jacket sitting off to the side somewhere, or even Cas. If she was going to anyone, it’d be him. As his feet carried him over the paths of Singer Salvage, he wondered where they fit here. Did one of these little ramshackle huts belong to them at one point? Had he been a main supplier of necessities, did he risk using his powers to make them things they needed, or maybe even just lighten the mood every so often? Was he just as terrified as everyone else was? There were so many questions and no answers.

“Gabe?” Liv’s soft voice called out from behind him, and he breathed out in relief.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he apologized as he turned, immediately walking towards her to wrap her back into his arms.

“I’m sorry…”

Her head was nuzzled back into the crook of his neck as her arms linked under his, both hands coming up to grip his shoulders. The sun was beginning to set and the thought of her being out there alone in the dark had begun to press in Gabriel’s thoughts, and he held her tight. He’d tried not to think about this world’s version of her dying, surely it happened in front of him, he could see Michael drawing it out, making him watch. That was probably the most satisfying part of the entire thing. He also feared the angels knowing her face. Did it make her a target here now?

“I got you some food,” he whispered into her hair, “and found a place to sleep for a minute. Come on.”

“No, I’m okay,” she assured, and he could hear the exhaustion in her voice.

“Humor me then, sit and eat, talk to me.”

There was no way she could deny him, not when he put it that way. He always knew how to get right down to the core of her. It had only been a few days and part of her still couldn’t believe he was here again. All those years had passed, yet it seemed like none had at all, every second without him long forgotten. Their rhythm had come back like it was second nature, the bickering and all. He led them back to their spot for the evening, pulling out the plates of… whatever this was he’d collected for them and two ratty blankets. Laying one down for them to sit on, he reserved the other to wrap around their shoulders as soon as they’d settled. Liv nestled into both the blanket and the man at her side, soaking in every ounce of warmth he was radiating.

Even though she’d tried to convince herself (and him) otherwise, she was starving and exhausted. The small bits of food Gabriel had scrounged up tasted like the finest fares the world had to offer as she scarfed them down.

“And you tried to tell me you were fine,” he scoffed, tossing a handful of raisins into his mouth.

“Why’s it all matter, Gabe?” she asked, pushing the remaining beans on her plate around as she kept her gaze away from his, “Why do you care about what happened to… them here?”

“Them being… us?”

“They’re not us. We’re right here. We’re fine.”

“So you did find Cas.”

“What?”

“That statement has Castiel written all over it. You… you, my little over thinker, would be dwelling on the thought of me dead in a ditch somewhere. Not to toot my own horn or anything…”

The fond little smile that twitched at her lips broke free. He was right. Her head had been inundated with images of those fierce, golden eyes staring up into the sky, dead and cold as blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, his massive wings burning on either side of him. She couldn’t shake it, but unlike him, she wanted as few details of the ordeal as she could possibly get. She’d found Cas, who’d given her his usual optimistic pep talk. He’d assured her their fates wouldn’t be the same, they’d be back home tomorrow, in a safer world. In their world.

“Yeah…” she admitted, peering up at him through her lashes.

“Yeah. See? You forget that I know you sometimes,” he teased, flicking a raisin at her cheek.

“But you didn’t answer my question.”

He was well aware, he’d actually hoped to avoid it.

“I don’t know,” he lied, “interesting we still end up banging in a whole other universe, isn’t it?”

She wasn’t fooled by him just as well as he wasn’t fooled by her, “You forget I know you, too,” she chastised, kicking the bottom of his boot lightly.

“I just don’t like not knowing things. They may not be us,  but… clearly some paths in this world are the same. If something happened here, that I can prevent on our end, I wanna know.”

“Well… there’s no Apocalypse. So I feel we’re already one step ahead. No Michael.”

Turning and throwing a leg over him, she sat in his lap facing him, wrapping one arm around his neck as the other softly stroked against his growing stubble. She could see the worry in his eyes and face, he wasn’t going to let this rest. Not unless she could convince him. Even though she had her own doubts about this new stance she was trying to uphold, she wanted to give him reassurance anyway that she could.

“We’re gonna go home tomorrow, and everything is gonna be fine,” she promised, “All this shit will be behind us, forever. Then we get to do whatever we want ‘til you get sick of me.”

“I’ll never get sick of you,” he cooed, pressing his forehead into hers, “If I made it through your twenties I think I can make it through anything.”

“Hey, I thought I was pretty level headed-“

“Oh you thought wrong.”

“Why’d you stick around then?”

“‘Cause you’re cute, obviously.”

“That all it takes?”

“I’m a simple man.”

Of course, they both knew that was far from the truth, and the smiles on their faces reflected it. His thumb grazed across her cheek bone, his eyes soft and reverent, a hint of sadness glinting in them, it’d been too long without her. With a small tick of his head, he gestured for them to crawl into their accommodations for the evening, his face falling at the general lack of any comfortable surface. She watched with a gentle gaze as he grabbed things from around the tent, random blankets and lumpy pillows, in an attempt to form a makeshift bed. She’d never understood where, out of all the angels, Gabriel was the only one who was just hardwired with the ability to love. Sure, Castiel had learned it, adapted, he was more human than angel now and had been for years now, but Gabriel, he left heaven from a broken heart. Watching his family tear each other apart had ruined him, he had truly loved them with far more than any other celestial being was capable, and he loved the humans, too. Mostly, however, she thought that he loved her. Hoped was maybe a more accurate feeling, because just as it had in the beginning, it still felt too good to be true now.

“Okay, I think that’s as good as it’s gonna get,” he sighed, sitting back on his heels with his hands on his hips, clearly disappointed.

“I’ve slept on worse,” she assured softly, feeling her heart swelling in her chest. As much as this world was a nightmare, she couldn’t shake the feeling this was all just a dream.

He flopped down first, opening his arm out to the side, welcoming her into his embrace. She wasn’t sure why he was so concerned about a comfortable place to sleep, he should have known she’d just be using him. Her head laid softly on his chest, her fingers toying with the buttons of his shirt she’d grown very fond of. She’d always appreciated when he wore these tighter, thin shirts, but no matter how many times she’d told him in the past, he never thought he looked good in them. Maybe he was finally seeing the error in his ways. Soon, her lips began to explore the exposed skin of his chest and neck, he was too hard to resist.

“It’s a bit cold,” he chuckled, knowing exactly what she was after.

“You’ll keep me warm,” she purred, her fingers now gliding up the hem of his shirt to feather along his stomach.

“One leg, that’s it,” he agreed, rolling her over onto her back.

With an excited grin she pulled one leg free of her jeans, pushing them as far to the side as she could to allow him easy access. His fingers went to work immediately through the last remaining thin cotton barrier and she arched in response, mewls falling from her lips. Soon, it wasn’t enough, and she grabbed his hand and guided it through the thin elastic waistband, needing his skin on her own. His ability to make her feel things no one else could had always amazed her. Whether it was sex, or happiness, or sadness, everything with him was magnified. She still hadn’t been able to decipher whether or not that was a good thing, either.

“You don’t get cold, though,” she pointed out, haphazardly pulling the bottom of his shirt up his torso.

“No, I don’t,” he agreed, pulling his shirt off then lifting her slightly to tuck it behind her head like a pillow, and she smiled at the sight before her.

“Mhmm, so much better. Warm me up, golden boy.”

As he pressed his lips to hers, he couldn’t help the satisfied little laugh that puffed out right as they touched. Leave it to her to make him forget his agony and misery even for a moment. Knowing the cool air was probably biting at that one exposed leg, he began running his hand up and down her thigh, hoping to pass some of his heat onto her. He thought for a moment it was working until an ice cold foot snuck right up against his bare stomach, causing him to jump and yelp in shock, while she threw her head back in uncontrolled giggles. This was very reminiscent to earlier times, and he couldn’t help but smile as he held that freezing appendage against himself to soothe the chill, his mouth finding hers yet again. With his free hand, he swatted around beside them until he found a spare blanket and then threw the tattered wool over the top of them, his warmth now lingering beneath it and getting her to a comfortable temperature quickly.

“Better?” he cooed, dragging his lips down onto her throat.

“Almost,” she sighed, pushing her hips up into his.

“Eager beaver.”

Her breathy laugh was soon replaced with a moaning sigh as he slowly slid inside of her, his eyes snapping shut as he took in the sensation. His movements were short and shallow, not wanting to pull himself away both out of want and the worry of the cold getting to her. Their mouths moved together, tongues gently maneuvering with one another in perfect unison. She held him close around his neck as he rocked into her. It was the perfect slow, tantalizing pace, just enough. She could care less about release, she just needed him close, as close as he could get. Feeling tears pricking at her eyes, she pinched them shut as she wound a hand into his hair, the complete satisfaction in being back with who she knew she belonged with taking over.

“I love you,” she whispered against his open mouth as they stopped for air, his breath puffing out hot against her lips.

“Ditto, sweetheart,” he breathed, “more than anything.”

That was all that mattered. She knew he was hurting and even if this only helped for a few minutes, it was better than nothing. She wanted to give him everything, to make sure he knew that even if he didn’t deem himself worthy of it, she loved him. She needed him. She’d always need him. He kept her grounded and content. When the world was falling apart he put it back together. He was the eye of the storm, a moment of peace in the chaos. His skin was hot and smooth beneath her fingers and she took a moment to memorize the feeling of it. The last nine years had been eye opening to just how much she’d taken advantage of every second spent with him. No time would ever be long enough. Not a year, not twenty, she’d always feel like she’d missed some part of the wonder of him.

Her release was slow and completely encompassing, every sense was clouded, claimed wholly by him. His mouth covered hers, swallowing down the guttural groans she had no control over as her nails raked red trails down the pale skin of his back. As she went limp beneath him, a blissed smile pushing up into her eyes, he gazed down and drunk in the sight, one small push of her hips against his toppling him over the edge.

“Promise me you’ll always need me like this,” he begged as he collapsed down on top of her, his head falling beside hers.

“Like what?” she asked, confused by his question.

“Like I mean something.”

Quickly after the words were spoken, he pushed himself up, sitting straight and rigid beside her. Taking a moment to shove her free leg back into her pants, she watched as his eyes traveled to where she knew she could never go, his mind wandering off to the deep, dark corners she wished she could light and end his pain. Still at just as much of a loss as she was weeks ago, she sat up and wrapped her arms around his middle, pressing her cheek into his back and silently she held him. It had worked that night, and she prayed it would again today.

“I promise,” she assured, unaware of even how much time had passed, and she meant it, she needed him.

“You need to sleep,” he instructed softly, turning slightly to wrap her in his arms before laying them both back.

Relieved, she curled into his side, her head nestled into the thin patch of hair in the middle of his chest as he ran the backs of his fingers up and down her back soothingly. Exhaustion was taking over faster than she wanted and before she knew it, she felt herself dozing off.

“Gabe!” he heard a familiar, and unwelcome, gruff voice calling off in the distance, his eyes snapping shut as he suppressed a groan.

Liv had been asleep for a few hours now and Gabriel had no intention of moving himself or her. This was comfortable, and she’d freeze without him, what could that needy buffoon possibly want at this hour?

“Gabe?” Dean called again, this time poking his head into the tent, earning himself a death glare from the angel taking up residence in it, “Hey… we uh, we need you.”

“Too bad, I’m busy,” Gabe whisper-yelled in response, his eyes ticking down to the sleeping woman on top of him.

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need to,” Dean replied, his voice actually filled with what sounded like sincere regret, “I know this is where you’d rather be, and I’m sorry…”

“Okay, fine. Don’t strain yourself faking sympathy, I’m coming.”

Carefully, Gabriel pulled himself from Liv’s sleeping hold, the loss of her weight on him setting his nerves back into overdrive. She didn’t wake, she barely moved when he slid her off of him, a testament to just how exhausted she was. He knew it was around midnight, and he hoped that by some miracle she stayed asleep until the sun came up. Tucking the blanket up and around her before he left, he snatched his shirt before she could roll over on top of it again, exiting the tent and meeting a very wary-looking Dean standing off to the side. When he approached, the angel’s unclothed top half took him by surprise.

“Did you guys… that tent is uh… small,” Dean stammered, looking back and forth between Gabriel throwing his Henley back on and the tiny abode he’d just emerged from.

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” Gabriel replied smoothly, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, well you’re no gentleman.”

“What do you need, Dean? Besides my sex life to live vicariously through.”

“We’re going on a rescue mission, we need you to keep watch.”

“Keep watch? Of what? Here? Dean, they’ve gotten by for years without a watch-“

“On Lucifer.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes with a sigh, that was even worse. Pulling him away from a few hours of peace to babysit his intolerable brother was just about the worst task Dean could have requested from him. Dean knew it, too, Gabriel could see the regret etched into his face, the pity. He nodded his response, knowing damn well there was no point in arguing, the fact that they were so close to the end motivating him to just keep his mouth shut and press forward.

Dean led him to the abandoned car lot that he’d argued with his brother in earlier that day, thankfully it wasn’t far from where Liv was asleep in their tent. He’d be able to hear her if anything went awry. He already missed her, selfishly wishing it was her joining him in the junkyard versus the figure he saw already leaning up against an old truck. This was torture.

With a curt nod, Dean left the two brothers alone, neither turning to even acknowledge the other. Gabriel took a seat on a stack of old tires, leaving Lucifer just within eye and ear shot in case he attempted anything… characteristic. Being alone with his thoughts was dangerous, again they floated off to all the endless possibilities that ended their lives here. He didn’t care what she, or Castiel, said, what happened here mattered. He knew it did. He could feel it. Finding a way to get out to Battle Ground was going to be impossible, especially now. He wasn’t even sure he had enough in the tank to get him there and back, but something inside him was telling him he needed to go there, to see what had happened with his own eyes.

Lucifer hadn’t moved, whatever he was thinking about had him very much trapped into his own head, and Gabriel hoped whatever it was was bringing him great turmoil. Jack was seemingly still on the fence about his dear old dad, and he knew that Lucifer hadn’t been anticipating having to put this much effort in. He’d expected to win that kid over in seconds, but maybe Liv had been right in her judgement to trust the kid.

“Gabe?” her soft, sweet, still heavy with sleep voice called from beside him and he felt a pang of regret, that had not been long enough.

He didn’t respond, his head still hung low, chin tucked to his chest. She hated seeing him like this. Sure, before in the earlier years she’d always known he carried a lot of self-loathing and self-worth issues, but it was never like this. Back then he seemed at least slightly less burdened, and she didn’t know what it was about now that had him feeling so despondent. Nothing had changed, except his lack of grace, but nothing she was doing seemed to get the fact that his power was not proportionate to his purpose.

Slowly, she padded her way over to him, her boots crunching on the gravel piquing Lucifer’s attention, but he didn’t turn to face them. Gently, she wrapped her arms around him from behind, one around his neck, the other his waist, and she laid her chin across his shoulder, resting her head against his. He was warm, as always, and when one hand rested against the arm around his middle, she felt a modicum of relief.

“What can I do?” she asked after a few moments of silence.

“This,” Gabriel responded quietly, leaning back ever so slightly into her embrace.

Liv pressed her lips lightly to his cheekbone and she felt his face lift into a small smile. This was where he belonged.

“You should be asleep, you’re exhausted,” he scolded, pressing his head even further back into her.

“I woke up and you were gone, got worried,” she mumbled, gripping her arms around him tighter.

“I’m never far.”

The couple sat in silence. It wasn’t awkward or heavy, it was peaceful. He could feel her soft exhales against his cheek, and her heart tapping against his back, the cadence lulling him into an almost hypnotized trance as he poured every ounce of his concentration into her. Pushing away the thoughts of a world without her, he closed his eyes, wanting every sense not consumed by her shut down.

“I love you,” she whispered into his ear, or maybe he was imagining it, at this point he wasn’t sure but the phrase brought great comfort nonetheless.

“This is so stupid,” Lucifer whined, breaking both of the other occupants of the junkyard from their quiet bubble.

“Dean said to stay behind. Any angels show up, we gotta defend this place,” Gabriel lied, earning a sigh from his brother, “It is really killing you you’re not out there impressing your kid, huh? Lucifer, do you really see a version here where he sticks by you?”

“I think the kid is pretty blown away by his old man, so… yeah, I do.”

“He’s a kid. He likes shiny objects and magic tricks. But he’s not like you. I can see it in his eyes. His mother’s bloodline, the Winchester’s influence.”

“I can be an influence.”

“Ugh, he’s not gonna want that. He’ll see who… what you are.”

“I’ve changed.”

Gabriel scoffed, pulling himself from Liv’s grip and approaching his brother. That was the most absurd statement he’d heard yet, and he didn’t think the last ones were going to be easy to beat. Liv took up Gabriel’s post on the tires, pulling her blade from inside her jacket, turning just far enough away that she could see both the camp and the two archangels in her peripheral vision. She loved seeing Gabriel stand up to his brother, but even more so that Gabriel had gained some faith in the Nephilim boy. She’d known deep down that Jack was good, and Gabriel now seeing it too had her lips turning into a small grin. She imagined Gabriel influencing Jack, being there to guide him as he explored his powers, seeing as he was the only one who would truly understand what the kid was capable of. She was also excited to be seeing more of him, she liked him with his wide-eyed innocence and pure, fresh-faced outlook on life. He’d be refreshing to have around, she thought.

The two angels arguing wasn’t quite discernible from where she sat, but whatever Gabriel was saying seemed to be getting to Lucifer. Then they started shouting.

“Yeah? Pop locked me up, okay?!” Lucifer seethed.

“Don’t you get it?” Gabriel retorted, “Humans were innocent and beautiful. But you… you couldn’t stand that the old man loved them more than he loved you. So you tempted them and corrupted them, just to prove how flawed they were.”

“You better be careful, man.”

“Dad saw that your evil was like the first few cells of cancer… that it would spread like the disease unless he cut it out. That is why he locked you up, to stop the cancer. But it was too late then, and guess what, it’s too late for you now.”

“She makes you weak! I remember when you used to command armies and incite fear and respect! Now, now look at you. Nothing more than a pet… a joke!”

“Yeah, maybe. Still better than whatever you are, though.”

Before he allowed his anger to get the best of him, Gabriel walked away, leaving his brother alone again against that rusted old truck. He stopped in front of Liv, her eyes sad as she peered up at him. His face was fallen, with what appeared to be tears brimming in his lower eye; she’d do anything to take this pain from him.

“Oh, baby,” she soothed, reaching and grabbing both of his hands in her own, “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” Gabriel sighed, relishing in the softness of her hands, “You didn’t do anything.”

“I know you’re hurting.”

As much as he wanted to lie, assure her he was fine, that he was just tired, or angry or irritated, that tiny piece of him that wanted to be weak won out. His eyes pinched shut as he squeezed her hands, one tear escaping and rolling down his cheek. The past few days had been too much. Leaving her, losing Sam (thankfully only temporarily), Lucifer, Liv’s arrival to the one place he didn’t want her to be, then finding out that in this world they were dead… it had been too much for his already damaged psyche to process. Flashes of hell still broke through from their barriers every so often, as did happier memories with two of his brothers that had destroyed entire worlds. He didn’t want any of it.

“Come here,” she beckoned, reaching her hand up to press against the back of his head, pushing his face down to hers.

Immediately, he dropped to his knees between her thighs, returning her kiss greedily. He hugged himself around her waist, pulling his body as close to hers as he could get, soaking in every inch of her. In a few short hours this would all be over, but no matter how many times he repeated that in his head it never seemed to make a difference.

“I know I don’t… compare,” Liv began, keeping her forehead pressed firmly to his, “but I do love you.”

Didn’t compare? No, she didn’t compare, and he wouldn’t want her to. She was on a level of her own. She was far beyond the betrayals, the heartache, and the pure, remorseless pain brought about by his family.

“Hey,” he cut off, “Hey, look at me. You are enough for me. You will always be enough for me. Understand?”

Liv responded with a nod, but he knew she didn’t feel it. Not yet. Gabriel stood, wrapping his arms around her neck as she pressed her face to his chest. To even think for one second that somehow she deemed herself unworthy of him was infuriating. It had always, always been the other way around, and it always would be.

Moments later, Gabriel saw the return of the Winchesters, marking the end of his surveillance. He was making that call, he’d done his due duty and now it was time to get back to what he’d started. Without a word, he picked Liv up bridal style, her arms instinctually wrapping around his neck as she relaxed into his hold. They didn’t even make it back to the tent before she was already asleep again. As Gabriel carefully situated them back beneath the old, tattered blankets, ensuring her body was tucked tightly against his, he felt weak, just as his brother had accused him of being, and he loved it. If this was weakness, than it was a far greater thing to feel than strength, and he knew it was simply just time to embrace that.

TAGS: @idabbleincrazy @analisespn @nodistressdamsel @morganas-pendragons 

#gabriel x ofc #gabriel x oc #gabriel #gabriel fic #spn

[thiefcat-niao]

Sand and Gold (Chapter 1)

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh!   Characters/Ships: Atem, Thief King Bakura, more in later chapters~  Rating: T Length: Chapter 1 / ?; 4000 words

Summary:

Prince Atem once found a small thief, and hid him for a time in the palace courtyard. The thief promised to return; to explain his hatred, and to have his vengeance.

The Pharaoh and the King of Thieves were supposed to be enemies, but neither is willing to abandon the tenuous bond they forged as children. Now the Royal Priests, Seto foremost among them, try to recover their kidnapped Pharaoh, unaware that Atem left with the Thief King of his own accord. Bakura has declared war in the name of his beloved Kul Elna, and yet wears the Millennium Ring that Pharaoh willingly gave him.

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Prince Atem loved the palace courtyard in the moonlight. He liked the way the sand, so dull and dry in the day, was turned to silver stardust. He liked the coolness of the air, in summer, and even the rare frigidity of the desert winters. He liked the quiet—the lack of voices, and the solitude that came with sneaking out of his bedroom window in the dead of night.

His father, the pharaoh Akhenamkhanen, knew of these fondnesses; told him to at least let a guard or two keep him company. But Atem had no desire to do so, and so did not heed his father. He felt safe, within the palace grounds, and indeed had never strayed outside the walls.

On one such moonless night, the young prince—with scarcely ten years to his honored name—walked among the carefully cultivated flowers that lined the western side of the palace grounds. His head hung back, eyes wandering across the distant field of stars above. Though his body was weary, from the day’s activities, his mind was keenly alert. He thought of his father, fondly.

The scritch-scratch noise didn’t pique Atem’s interest right away; the young prince dismissed it as desert rats scrabbling at the palace wall just outside. But it grew louder and more rhythmic as Atem walked. Eventually he slowed, pressing one ear to the stone beside him, and the sound jumped into focus. It was the sound of digging, surely, but it seemed unlikely to Atem that small animals could make such a sound. Not rats, then... a jackal, perhaps... or a wildcat... He wondered if there could be a desert lion on the other side of the wall. He’d never seen such a creature up close, though a beast-tamer had once been brought in to entertain his father's court at a banquet.

Across the courtyard, a single guard patrolled—Atem could scarcely make out the man’s silhouette, from his distance. Other than that, no living soul moved in the darkness. There would be more guards outside the palace’s perimeter, of course, but within the walls there was little need. Atem glanced back, toward the palace’s main section, and identified his father’s window high above. He could smell the palace kitchens nearby—a meaty and herbal scent that hung heavy in the air. He could hear the palace livestock shifting about in the stables.

Atem scrambled up; found the cracks in the wall with nimble fingers and bare toes. The top of the wall was carved decoratively, making it easy to scale. Atem paused at the summit, gazing out across the expanse of empty desert that flanked the palace’s westward side. The horizon was invisible, concealed by the night; where sand dunes became sky was for only the gods to know.

Atem glanced back at the palace, illuminated by the flames of torches and lamps. The stars paid the desert no such favors, and Khonsu hadn’t appeared in the sky that night.

The sound of scratching drew Atem’s attention once again, and he looked down. There was a shape near one of the palace’s rear gates, crouched just outside a circle of light from a torch mounted on the wall. It was a creature, surely, fixated on the ground. Atem tilted his head, then slithered down the wall. He felt a thrill of apprehension as his feet touched the sand—he was outside the palace.

Atem crept forward. The soft ground, still warm from the daytime sun, muted his steps. He realized that the creature was sitting upright and wondered if it might be a demon; he tried to recall the stories he’d heard of such beings. There was no telling what might’ve come out of the open desert behind the palace. Atem was scarcely a yard away from the creature.

Perhaps a demon, but perhaps not.

“Oh!”

The prince’s soft exclamation made the shape jerk; spin around to attention, and immediately stumble. It fell backwards, into the light of the torch. Atem drew a sharp breath; took a step back.

The shape was a child—no older than Atem himself, though somehow much smaller and frailer. His bones stuck out, sharp and unforgiving, casting deep shadows across his body in the dim light. But more horrifying was the wound—the festering clot of blood and fluids obscuring half his face, so swollen that his right eye was forced shut. Atem felt his stomach flip end-over-end; thought he might retch, but thought that would be horribly insensitive, and unbecoming of a prince besides.

The feral little child bore his teeth; tried to get up and failed, his legs folding like splintered twigs beneath him. His one eye was huge, terrified, and Atem, still hidden in shadow, saw when he started to tremble.

“Get away... don’t come any closer...!” The child's voice was a dry rasp, almost lost in the still night air; his narrow chest heaved. “Get away!”

Atem looked down; saw the claw-marks in the sand, and knew the boy had been digging. It took him a moment to realize why, however, and when he did his stomach twisted with pity.

“We bury things so the scavengers won’t find them,” he said softly, and the strange boy stiffened. “But you must’ve been watching.”

“Go away!” the thief spat again, managing a bit more volume. Atem did not obey, but crouched down on his haunches; stared, and thought.

The people who worked in the palace kitchens often buried inedible parts of food—gristly bits of meat, woody vegetable stalks, unsalvageably burnt bread—on the edge of the palace grounds, so that night hunters wouldn’t be attracted. But human scavengers didn’t rely on scent alone; couldn’t be fooled by a layer of topsoil and sand.

The thought of anyone eating the rubbish—dirt-encrusted rubbish, now, no less—made Atem’s throat close up.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

The other child shifted; gave a strange little whine, and again tried to rise. His legs wouldn’t support him.

“You’re sick,” Atem said, inching forward. The thief’s chest began to heave more violently. “That wound...”

The thief drew his lip back; snarled like a cornered animal, but seemed unable to flee. Atem stopped moving toward him, and again thought.

“Wait here. Please. I’ll be back. Just... wait here, okay?”

The thief didn’t reply; Atem could see the gleam of some liquid dripping down the right side of his face. The prince darted away, back along the palace wall. In his endless exploration, he’d found a gap in the stones, concealed from within by a patch of shrubbery. He crawled inside, ignoring the scrape of thorns as he wriggled back into the yard and dashed, quickly and quietly, back to the palace.

Prince Atem didn’t expect the thief to wait; didn’t expect him to still be there, when Atem returned. But he was, huddled up in a jumble of bones and threadbare clothes. For a moment, Atem thought he might not be breathing. As the prince neared, though, the thief startled to attention; scrambled up into a crouch, and again bore his teeth. Atem dropped down before he got too near, leveling their heights.

“Here. You don’t need to dig that up. See?” The prince held out a piece of cloth in upturned palms, upon which rested a small loaf of bread and a chunk of roasted meat pilfered from the slumbering palace kitchens, along with a waterskin. The thief’s eye—that one eye, glossy with fever and fatigue—widened sharply, and his fingers clutched at the dirt. He didn’t try to stand—it wouldn’t have worked, they both knew—but dragged himself closer. Atem wanted to move forward, to save him that tremendous effort, but didn’t; waited patiently, even as the thief hesitated.

“... Why?” the child croaked out, after a moment. His chest convulsed.

“You need it,” Atem said, and then placed the offerings on the ground.

Again the thief hesitated, eye flicking between Atem and the food and then back again. But eventually desperate instinct won out, and he pulled himself a bit farther forward. He fell upon the food, a starving animal, all growling and drool as he ate. Atem watched in morbid fascination, having never seen life pushed to such a breaking point and intrigued despite the nausea that threatened at the back of his own throat. Only once did the thief retch, a violent convulsion, but he didn’t vomit.

When the food had vanished, there was a moment of quiet—the thief’s wheezing breath was audible, but that was all. Then Atem inched forward.

“Come on.” Atem extended his hand. “You can’t stay here. They’ll find you if you come inside, but I’ll show you my best hiding place. Come on.”

The thief regarded him mistrustfully, his gaze far older than suited his small body. But he leaned forward; asked, “Why?” in a voice that did not rasp, but instead cracked.

“Because you’re hurt,” Atem said. “You might die.”

The thief stiffened; choked quietly and bent his head, shoulders shaking. “Because... I might... die...” he whispered, and Atem nodded.

“I don’t want you to die.”

“... I don’t want to die.”

The thief’s hand was calloused and dry, his fingers like brittle sticks. Atem pulled him gently along, guiding him through the hole in the wall and then deeper into the palace grounds, calling upon his knowledge of the guards’ routines and sticking to the deepest of shadows. At some point the thief managed to get to his feet and walk, and Atem wondered at the mysterious strength he possessed, even so close to death.

There was a massive statue of the pharaoh—of Atem’s father, Akhenamkhanen—at the rear of one courtyard. Looking up, Atem could see his own balcony directly above it. It had been peering down from that vantage point that he’d noticed the gap in the statue’s foundation, and upon exploration he’d discovered a small, natural cave within the stone construct, likely a crack that had widened steadily since the statue’s creation. It was nearly impossible to detect from the ground, and it was that spot that Atem took the tiny thief to. The thief shied away, for a moment, glaring up at the stone effigy, but then steadied and followed Atem inside.

Once they were deep within the stone, the thief dropped Atem’s hand; collapsed, his strength spent. Atem crouched beside him. In the near-pitch-black inside the statue’s base, the gruesome wound on the thief’s face was scarcely discernible.

“Who...?” the thief gasped out family, and Atem hesitated.

“I live here.”

“A... servant...?”

Atem remained silent, and the thief didn’t question him further.

“... I’m going to bring some more food and water, but don’t eat it all now,” Atem said, after a moment. “Sleep, and you’ll have it here when you wake up. I can’t see to treat your wound now, so I’ll be back in the morning, when there’s light.”

The thief didn’t speak—only watched Atem with that one shrewd, almost-but-not-quite-hostile eye of his. Atem nodded, if only to reassure himself, and then wriggled back outside. By the time he had returned—with not only more bread and water, but with bedding—the thief was unconscious. Atem gazed at him for a moment, perplexed by the turn his life had taken that peaceful night.

“Rest...” he murmured, and put the supplies down. “Rest. I’ll be back in the morning.”

... ... ...

Atem was weary, come morning, and irritated by his father’s oblivious good cheer. He suffered through breakfast and his morning lessons, then slipped away from Mahad at the first opportunity to check on the foundling stashed away in the base of pharaoh’s statue. He half expected the thief to have fled, but found the child exactly where he’d left him. The statue’s cracks allowed a fair amount of daylight into the little cave, and Atem saw, for the first time, the full extent of the damage to the thief’s tiny body. He was emaciated, the shape of each bone clear beneath his dried-papyrus skin, which was scuffed bloody in several spots. His gray hair was hopelessly matted. Most troublesome, the mass of flesh on his face was a menagerie of angry reds and purples, white ooze contrasting starkly against it.

“I brought more food,” Atem said; what he’d left the night before was gone.

The thief, while still physically shaky, seemed more alert. He accepted the parcel Atem offered; unwrapped it. He ate slowly, with relish laid bare despite his attempts to hide it, and sipped water. He didn’t speak.

“I brought medicine, too,” Atem said, after some time. “Can I look at your wound?”

“Your own pharaoh’s men did it,” the thief said, his voice muffled by bread. “To mark me as a thief.”

Atem swallowed; said, “I’d guessed. But the punishment for thievery isn’t death.”

“You’re right. I don’t die if I steal—I die if I stop stealing. I starve.”

Atem shifted, uncertain of how to reply. Eventually, he motioned to the loaf of bread. “You didn’t have to steal that.”

“You’re right,” the thief said again. “You stole this.”

“I did not,” Atem said, a bit indignant. “That’s from my own breakfast.”

That seemed to catch the thief off-guard, and he didn’t reply.

“I’m going to take a closer look,” Atem asserted, after another pause. The thief didn’t speak, but fell still when Atem leaned in. He smelled of rot, sour, and the prince struggled to keep his nose from wrinkling. The damaged area was feverishly hot, and Atem took great care in cleaning away some of the dried blood and scabbing. The thief didn’t move; scarcely seemed to breathe as Atem worked. When Atem reached the flesh itself, though, the thief’s teeth grit subtly; he began to occasionally flinch, as Atem cleaned the wound.

Once the worst of the debris had been cleared, the shape of the wound became clear: a long slash, starting just above the eye and ending at the bottom of the cheek. There were a couple of smaller, lateral tears in the skin along the sides of the main cut.

“It didn’t get your eye?” Atem asked—the first words that had been spoken since the process began.

The thief said, quietly, “No.”

Atem sighed. “That’s good.” He finished cleaning and dressing the cut, treating it with the powerful herbal poultice that his father’s magicians made. When he’d finished, he shuffled backwards. “There.”

The thief blinked his good eye; touched the dressing lightly. Atem didn’t expect thanks, and didn’t receive them.

“If I live... and do terrible things...” the thief said at last, “you’ll have to live with that.”

“Why would you do terrible things?” Atem asked, genuinely perplexed. “You mean like thieving?”

The thief shook his head. “I hate your pharaoh. I’ll kill him, one day.”

Atem felt a chill down his spine, but didn’t let it show. “Why?”

But the thief didn’t answer; stared off to the side, growing quickly listless. Atem didn’t press.

“I’m going to run off,” the thief said, after some time had passed. “I’m not going to do anything to repay you. As soon as I can, I’m just going to disappear, and you can rot with the rest of your kind.”

“That’s fine,” Atem answered, and again had the satisfaction of catching the thief off-guard. “But please don’t leave before you’re ready. You might die.”

The thief gave a little snort—almost a laugh.

“I’m serious,” Atem said. “Stay here as long as you need—or as long as you want.”

The thief didn’t reply.

... ... ...

Atem returned that evening with food and fresh dressing for the thief’s wound.

“Palace food,” the thief said abruptly, though a mouthful of meat, “is even better than I ever dreamed.” 

It was the most emphatic thing Atem had yet heard him say, and it made the young prince laugh. “I’m glad.”

“Though rotten fish would probably taste good, at this point,” the thief said, a dry note of humor in his voice. 

“Maybe, but palace food is a lot better than rotten fish.”

“True.” The thief paused; he was watching Atem carefully, out of the corner of his good eye, as Atem worked on his injury. “... You’re not going hungry, right?”

“What?”

“You said it was your food you brought me, this morning.”

Atem felt a surge of surprise. “No. I’m okay. It’s okay, really.”

The thief’s eye narrowed, just slightly. “Either you’re lying, or you palace folk sure eat richly.”

“We do,” Atem said, almost apologetically. He didn’t usually avail himself of the near-limitless food available to him on a daily basis, but for once it was proving useful. Egypt was a prosperous place, since his father had brought peace to the war-torn country with the mysterious Millennium Items, and the pharaoh and his chosen enjoyed the best fruits of that prosperity. “A little too richly, for my taste.”

The thief seemed to consider that, then shrugged and closed his eyes. “It benefits me, right now, so I’m not complaining. Judging, for sure, but not complaining.”

Again Atem laughed; finished with dressing the thief’s wound. He waited until the thief was done eating, then said, “I could bring some water, if you’d like to bathe. There isn’t much room in here, but...”

The thief nodded slowly; said, “That’d be... nice...”

Atem slipped out; fetched a couple of pitchers of water and soap. He brought some of his own clean clothes, as well.

The thief took great care to clean the grime from his skin. It seemed to Atem, observing the behavior, that he must have lived with every human dignity at some point, and that saddened the young prince. What led you to this...? he wondered, watching as the thief meticulously untangled his hair; rinsed it twice, then once more for good measure. Where is your family...? With how well you speak, how you act... you couldn’t have been raised by the jackals...

When the thief had dried himself, he pulled on Atem’s clothes; sighed quietly at their softness before he could check himself. He cleared his throat crossly.

“Feel better?” Atem asked.

“Human,” the thief answered, unwittingly echoing Atem’s earlier thoughts. “I feel human.”

“Because you are.”

“Yeah...”

For a moment, neither of them moved or spoke. Then Atem gathered up the pitchers and dirty cloth; said, “I’ll be back.”

“Do what you want,” was the thief’s muttered answer.

Atem smiled; repeated, “I’ll be back.”

... ... ...

Atem visited the thief briefly the next morning, and returned once again in the evening with a senet board tucked under one arm.

“What’s that?” the thief asked; his voice, muffled by a mouthful of roast meat, wasn't hostile, and that warmed the young prince.

“Senet. Haven’t you ever played it?”

“Have. Like mehen better.”

Atem laughed, surprised. “I’ll bring a mehen board next time, then.”

The thief looked at him curiously, cleaning the grease from his fingers with long, languid strokes of his tongue. “Huh? You want me to play?”

Atem tilted his head; he’d placed the board down between them. “I thought you might be bored.”

Then it was the little thief’s turn to laugh; it was a surprisingly warm sound, and Atem smiled. “Bored? I could eat and sleep like this for years and not get bored of it.”

“Do you want to play a game of senet?”

The thief smiled—a touch wryly, the wrappings on his face crinkling with the movement. “Sure. Let’s play.”

They played far more than a single game—they played, indeed, until the light was gone and they were forced to quit. Atem promised to bring a mehen board the next day; the thief thanked him.

... ... ...

“You’re in a good mood, son,” Pharaoh Akhnamkanon commented, smiling across the breakfast table.

Prince Atem nodded; he was busy tucking food into his pockets while still trying to sate his own hunger (as he had, despite what he might tell the little thief, been going a bit hungry). It had been nearly a week since Atem had first encountered the thief, and still he was hiding beneath the statue of the pharaoh.

“Have you got a new friend among the palace children?” the father asked gently. Atem gave a small, noncommittal shrug. “Well, I hope you’re having fun.”

“I am!” Atem exclaimed, and beamed at his father—at his pharaoh, whom the little thief claimed to hate. Atem wondered, yet again, why that could possibly be. He resolved to ask, during their game of mehen that day.

“Why?” The thief answered question with question as he rolled the dice; moved his marker and took a bite of bread. “Because this is all his fault.”

“What is?” Atem pressed, picking up the dice; giving them a shake before tossing them, and then moving his own game piece accordingly.

“You’ll understand, some day. When I’m older, I’ll come back and explain it.”

The little thief’s strength seemed to be returning, bit by bit, and his wound was healing well. Each day, Atem expected to find that he’d run off; each day, the thief was still there, waiting for his visits.

“Where do you come from?” Atem asked, watching with slight anxiety as the thief’s game piece closed in on his own. He rolled the dice; got a three.

“A place that doesn’t exist anymore.”

Atem wasn’t sure how to reply; the thief overtook him, rounding a curve in the snake.

“Your family?” Atem asked eventually.

“They don’t exist anymore, either.”

“I’m sure they’re living well in A'aru.”

“I’m sure they aren’t.” The thief’s voice was bitter, and Atem tilted his head.

“Why do you say that?”

The thief didn’t reply; moved his game-piece to the center of the board, and said, “I’m the snake, now.”

Atem nodded; rolled the dice, and set his marker to fleeing back in the other direction.

“Their ba and ka were destroyed, along with their bodies,” the thief said, after a moment, and Atem stiffened. “There’s nothing left of them to be judged, or to make it into the afterlife.”

“That can’t...” Atem murmured, and caught the gleam of tears on the thief’s cheeks. He fell silent.

“Got you,” the thief said softly, as his game piece reached Atem’s. He swept them both off the board; asked, “We’ll switch to senet?”

And Atem replied, “Sure. Senet it is.”

... ... ...

Several days later, Atem arrived at the statue at dusk; it had been more difficult than usual to slip away from his friends among the palace-folk.

“Sorry...” he gasped out, upon finally squirming into the little alcove. The thief looked up, unruffled. “It’s too dark now to play anything, I think...”

“It’s fine,” the thief said, an oddly sad note to his voice. When Atem made a questioning noise, he said, “I’ll be leaving, tomorrow.” Atem laughed breathlessly, and the thief tilted his head.

“I’m so glad you told me...” the prince murmured, and the thief looked away.

“Yeah... well... whatever...”

Atem edged forward; the food he’d brought, for once, sat untouched. “You don’t have to. If I talk to Pharaoh Akhenamkhanen, vouch for you, I’m sure—“

“No!” The thief’s voice was sharp; furious. It dropped again, though, immediately. “No... sorry, but... no. I could never... I mean... I hate your stinking pharaoh. I stand by that. I’ll kill him, one day. And everyone close to him.”

Atem felt a deep stab of remorse, but didn’t argue.

“I’ll come back, one day, I swear it,” the thief said. “Then you’ll understand. If you’re still here, at the palace...”

I’ll be here, for sure... Atem thought, with a trace of humor. What he said aloud was, “I’ll look forward to it.”

The thief didn’t respond; unwrapped the meal that Atem had brought him. The wound on his face had improved—it would leave quite the scar, but it was no longer open or raw. It would heal. He ate slowly, with relish, chewing thoroughly before swallowing each bite. He looked far less hollow than he had; his bones were still visible, prominently, but he no longer appeared frail and skeletal.

“You’ll miss the food, won’t you?”

The thief chuckled. “I’ll miss that. I’ll miss a few things.”

Atem stopped short of asking what else he would miss. The thief wouldn’t be convinced to stay, he was certain. Atem had no desire to sour their farewell with an argument.

“Do you need anything? Before you go?”

The thief shook his head; didn’t reply. Atem sat patiently while he finished his meal, and then they shared the silent stillness of the statue’s interior. When Atem made the slightest move, though, the thief reached out; caught his wrist. Atem stiffened, surprised, and met the thief’s gaze—both his eyes, clear and bright in the darkness. His grip was strong; his fingers no longer like brittle twigs.

“Stay with me tonight. Please?”

While there was no trace of vulnerability in the thief’s voice, it was laid bare in his eyes. And, although aware that it might cause trouble, Atem could do nothing but nod.

“Sure. I will. Of course.”

Atem leaned back against the stone; was surprised when the thief lay not only beside him, but against his shoulder. After a moment, the thief snuggled further into him, pressing their small bodies close.

“Is this okay?”

“Of course... it’s fine, of course...”

When Prince Atem woke, the defused dawn light rousing him, he was alone. The golden bangles he’d been wearing were missing, and that made him happy.

#thief king bakura #pharaoh atem #ygo #Yu-Gi-Oh #fanfiction #fanfic #tkb #atem #niao writes things

[donnnoir]

I am back, well for the most part.  This process being contingent upon my time management and allotment of same.  Believe me it is not from lack of desire, rather it is dealing with the typical Luciferian practice of distraction and delay; added to that is their ubiquitous practice of poisoning those they target, along with the microwave and other energy / frequency weapons used on targeted individuals.  An if ever there was a target on their BINGO List I am in the top three.  I live only by the grace of God.  Presently it appears individuals are putting some petroleum based distillate into my drinks and food.  I suspect that there are several other types of unhealthy food additives being put into that which I consume.  The other items I suspect are some sort of heavy metal salts like Thallium, Arsenic, or similar.  The only good thing that can be said about what is presently occurring is that thus far they have not resorted to using metal salts which have been irradiated, like they did when I was being Fox-ed in Southern California around the Long Beach and Wilmington areas primarily.  Even so the amounts have been sufficient that if I was anybody else, I would be very concerned and more than highly upset at several persons around me, all the more so given the great lengths they go in saying we are fast friends, family even.  An although I know I will survive I am needless to say highly upset. Yet my circumstance is not such that I can easily or directly deal with the matter.  Instead as it is part of the larger issues I have dealt with all my Life I prefer to just add it to an ongoing tab. Soon enough the paradigms and social conventions we Live by shall come undone, and my hands will be free.  When the Kid gloves come off, and I am given leave from my G-d I will commence to balancing the scales.  Until then I must suffer the indignation and deprivations to my soul.  This exposition project will continue as time and situation permits.

Thus in consideration to this process I have undertaken it is abundantly clear that I should present myself and a general perspective of the terms I have strove to have all my Life.  All the more so since in pursuit of the purpose of this blog and my venturing out into the media of sorts will invariably bring the entirety of my life under the scrutiny of those that will for one reason or another seek to discredit what I intend to present.  An I being the disreputable soul that I am will be an easy target.  Wherefore it is incumbent upon me to get out ahead of the ball on this, so to speak.  I know that no matter how I attempt to be forthcoming on matters of my personal life and the manner in which I have Lived.  I will invariably miss many details that in due course will bite me in the arse.  I am fond of reminding persons that Life is in the Living; and that last I checked Living was and is a very messy process.  Or, rather it can be.  An all things considered I have done a bang up job of leaving a mound of detritus in my wake.  A side effect that has only increased as of late, albeit with a helping hand from those that would rule over the world.  At the time of my composing this my Life has become defined as a series of ongoing train-wrecks.  What chance I had to have any kind of Life resembling normality is no longer serviced by the train station.  Regrettable as it may be I am at least comfortable with that reality.  Wherefore how best to succinctly present a proper representation of the Life I have lead which represents a degree of my thought processes and a degree of my character and nature.  A usually straight forward idea, yet for myself I find it immensely difficult.  Yes I am a son of Light, I have always professed the Truth.  Nonetheless I was raised to be a Man, a hard Man of character meant for vastly more difficult and dynamic social and cultural circumstances than has thus far been required of me or us in general as the human race.  Yes we have Lived through challenging times even survived an insane period of global ego paranoia we commonly referred to as MAD.  The legacy of which will yet play out in the not too distant future.  What we as in the entire World must struggle and fight Our way through beginning shortly within the coming months, to frame it in proper temporal perspective. These events will exceed all that has happened in the past.  The Seers of Old were shown many of these things, they however lacked the conceptual context or even words whereby to begin to explain what had been revealed to them.  My mother worked hard to raise four Men, as she understood that to mean. We all were each individual anachronisms for the present.  We belong to times five hundred to five thousand years ago.   Understanding this, perhaps the rest will find context and help those that wish to maintain perspective.  Elsewise my existence and life’s work will seem almost contradictory to my stated purpose and desires.  Hell I will be the first to admit I am a living ball of contradictions; nonetheless I have maintained a course that has been exemplified as of late.  A portion of the story we shall attend to a bit later; sooner than it would in chronological order.  

Thus Be it Known I was born August 31, 1960, in the year of Our Lord.  In the humble back water town of Socorro, New Mexico.  And yes, New Mexico is a State in the Union of the United States of America.  My Christian given name is as my fathers, thus making me a junior.  My father is your typical WASP American.  Gifted with a Highly keen intellect and analytical mind.  My Mother’s people are a unique blend of Native American and Spanish.  Our Spanish roots go back five hundred years.  Two brothers were shipped to further point in the Spanish Empire to protect their bloodline till the end of time.  They came in chains as Crypto Jews fleeing the Spanish Inquisition.  My father later was one of the engineers working on the Mercury and Saturn / Apollo Rockets which eventually landed men on the moon.  My parents being the strongwilled  dynamic individuals that they were eventually divorced, with my Mother taking us from California back to New Mexico.  I was blessed to have lived in New Mexico when it was an open confluence of differing forces and ideologies.  It is sadly no longer such a place.  I grew up in the company of different beliefs and fellow students who came from backgrounds that valued intelligence and knowledge.  At the same time others taught me that a person needed to see beyond the bonds of knowledge and see the foundations of the world and universe as they were originally cast that being spiritual and some would say ethereal.   Thus to me understanding Our World from more than one perspective or level of sight is normal.  As a matter of fact this perception of reality goes all the way back to my earliest memories back to being in my crib. An when it comes to sighted, I in previous conversations with others have described how my vision worked when I was younger.  As many of us may recall from our halcion days of being in elementary school. There were those overhead projectors which our teachers would then apply various overlays.  Well that is a very good analogy of how I actually would see my world.  There was/ is the reality that everyone sees, then there were generally two additional overlays, usually one in front of and one behind the norm.  But this could also be two behind or two in front of the norm.  On rare occasions there would be more than two in a variety of configurations.  At times the overlays would have no obvious association to the normal view.  Matter of fact I have had here recently cause to remember images I saw almost fifty years ago.  Some things that go back to before I was two.  Now I have always thought I was a bit different, and naively I to this day can’t fathom that everyone doesn’t in some way or another see the world similar to how I have.  Being a precocious young man to say the least, I do recall the statement that if you would be great that you should select a great adversary.  An as Lucifer is Humanities great adversary it was natural that I would select him.  Now it was also an extension of my visions from when I was nine.  So as I listened to the conflicts of the day, did I become aware that there among the idyllic images of society that I heard Lucifer’s voice spreading his lies and vile beliefs.  Since no one else was pointing a finger or raising an alarm in that sector I figured I might as well go poking around.  That when I was approximately sixteen, needless to say it has been one hell of ride.  Now, bit by bit I have slipped into the abyss which is present in all part of our society and culture.  Because, well that is where I was needed the most.  However it takes a toll and like some foul ichor adheres to those who travel extensively in it, such that for fear it may infect anyone not disposed to it I avoid deceit folk.  I have made my way doing business and working often in the byways of this abyss.  As a female friend of mine once cried to me that I couldn’t let myself be killed because in all the world I was the only person who did what I did.  That I would actually willingly go into to the places that these Luciferians inhabit to take the women and child out.  Others might help, but none of them would go into the place alone and face them down.  To this I must admit is the Truth.  An for anyone else to do it would be a fool errand.  Because as they stare at me with fake smiles wanting only to kill me; I would stare back and challenge them to bring it.  They wouldn’t because what they see when they look at me is a blackness darker than any they have seen before.  Now along the way I have become a felon more than on one occasion.  My record shows several convictions, some I am not guilty of what I am convicted of having done.  As is often the case the Truth is the first victim of a good fight.  And believe me I have been fighting the good fight for a long time, up until recently I have generally gotten a big return on my investment.  Recently I have been handed my ass to me in spades, with nothing to thus far show for what it has cost.  Believe me it has come at an immense cost, with no end in sight.  Yet it is the ticket I bought on my way to Creation; so Hell be Damned if I am going to start whining now.  I do at time bitch a little, but I am only human after all.  Hahahaha……..

So, having accepted responsibility for having lived the woolly life that I have.  To say I have a checker board past is to be kind but nonetheless True.  Consequently what I share with you is the Truth. I wish I could say it was assembled in a coherent manner so as to be easily understood.  Sorry such is not the case.  More Over I will no doubt go off into various tangent issues and share what at times is my unique history and understanding of a given issue.  Somethings may offend some of the more “sensible” readers.  I can accept that. Know that I once thought as almost everyone else in the world.  It is only because of my life’s experiences and knowledge acquired by other means that I now believe as I do.  What is particularly ironic is that no matter how large my “craziness coefficient” may get; I am withholding the more extreme things I have come to know.   Hang on as best you can an hopefully my writings will permit some of you to prepare for that which shall shortly come to pass.  Granted my current biggest obstacles are getting past the AI’s that are acting as guardians at the gates.  We shall do our best.

[shipmistress9]

FTLOAP: Chapter 7: Things My Heart Used To Know, Things It Yearns To Remember

Prologue; Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6

Co-author: @athingofvikings

AN: Yeah, the previous chapter was pretty corny, wasn't it? I'm not sorry ;) But it certainly was a first highlight when it comes to the story arch, in my opinion at least. Here now a chapter that was meant as a short bridge toward the next events. But hey, the characters had other plans... And when it became twice as long as our aimed average, we decided to split it. That means: The planned hiatus gets pushed back by a week, meaning the last update will be on 8th June, and we start again on 13th July. For now, at least...

This chapter's title now is the first coming from another song. It's from Once Upon A Decembre from the film Anastasia, another great film not made by Disney. And it also has great music, and you will read quotes from its lyrics frequently here. The film and also the songs have some low-key parallels to this story, that intrigued me quite a bit. Might also be noticeable by the cover picture I made for this story that originates from a screenshot of that film. ;)

. o O o .

Astrid reacted much faster than Hiccup. It took him a moment to comprehend what even happened.

In one moment, they’d been kissing, and it had been more wonderful than he’d ever dared to dream. Her warmth had radiated through him as if she was his own personal sun, and the mayweed scent of her hair wafting into his nose had only served to captivate him even more. To him, this scent would forever be linked to her and to this moment, to when this confused longing suddenly had made sense. Everything had been perfect.

And then there had been this rattling noise coming from the door. It had ended their kiss with sudden harshness, and in the next moment, he’d found himself stumbling as he got pulled behind a cupboard.

“Hide,” she urged him as she pushed him against the wall. Then she quickly made a few steps backwards and away from him, just as he heard the door opening.

Still too dazed by their kisses and the overpowering sensation of connecting with her, Hiccup barely could do anything. He just stood still, his back pressed against the wood-panelled wall, and fought to keep his breathing as quiet as possible as he heard someone entered the darkened room. The harsh clicking of heavy riding boots on the tiled floor was almost threatening, even though the rhythm was weirdly familiar.

“Swanja? Are you in here? We were – Ah, there you are! You were suddenly gone. Daniel and I were worried,” Eret’s voice came through the room, and Hiccup heard the tone of concern with ease.

“Yeah, sorry,” Astrid replied lightly, and made a few steps towards Eret... further away from Hiccup’s hiding spot. “I just needed a moment to… to get my head straight. You know how being around so many people wears me out. I just needed a break.”

Hiccup knew the cheerful tone of hers wasn’t false. He felt it, too. A sense of incredible lightness and ease was spreading through him; it seemed to erase all the confusion and troublesome emotions from earlier. He didn’t need to be close to her, to touch, or even to see her right now. They were one, two halves of a single piece, and nothing could ever change that again.

“Yeah, I know,” Eret replied, sounding relieved. “But you could have told Daniel or me where you were going at least. Not sure if you’ve noticed, but your brother tends to be a little overcautious sometimes.”

“I know,” she sighed. “But I’m not a child anymore. I just wish he would finally see that.”

“Oh, he does see it. That’s why he is so overprotective,” he stated dryly. “But let’s head back now, before anyone starts rumours about us hiding in a darkened room. Or, well... even more rumours...”

“Oh, no, we wouldn’t want that,” she agreed, chuckling lightly. Hiccup could hear how she walked to the door, the rustling of her skirts a clear indication as to where she was. Slowly, he let out the breath he’d been holding. Thank Odin, Eret hadn’t noticed him.

“Hey, what about your food? Don’t you want to eat it anymore?”

“Food?” she asked, momentarily bewildered. “Ah, yes… Thanks, I almost forgot.”

The scraping of porcelain over wood was audible as Eret picked up the plate Hiccup had placed there earlier. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been distracted all day, don’t even try to deny that. I know you’ve tried to hide it, but – wait, are those köttbular? Since when do you eat köttbular? I thought you hated those.”

“Oh, that… Well... I-I acquired a taste for them lately.” Hiccup heard how she went back to where Eret stood next to the table. “See? They’re great,” she said, her mouth clearly full of food.

“I’m honestly impressed,” Eret admitted. “But forgive me if I still refuse to eat them. I vividly  remember how my aunt made them once, and they were awful enough for an entire lifetime.” A shudder ran through Eret’s voice, and Hiccup grimaced as well. He, too, clearly remembered the exact meal his cousin was talking about. Oh, but what would he give if he could eat that admittedly horrible dish only once more…

The sounds of footsteps and rustling cloth was audible, growing quieter as both Eret and Astrid went for the door and left. Hiccup exhaled shakily as the tension left his body, and he slumped against the cupboard next to him. He wasn’t sure whether he’d really needed to hide from his cousin. He doubted that Eret would mind this… whatever it was that was between Astrid and him now. But she hadn’t told him, had even gone so far as to eat something she hated to keep his presence in the room a secret.

With a heavy sigh, Hiccup let his head fall back against the wall and gazed unseeingly out of the window and into the night. What was it that was between them now? It was as if he could still feel her presence in his heart, as if part of her was still here with him. And it made him feel light and happy, complete like he’d never felt before in his life. He’d been right, she was the one for him, his soulmate even.

And yet, it felt acutely bizarre. Even though a deep part of him seemed to intimately know and recognise her, he had to admit that he didn’t know her.

Who are you?

Her question earlier had confused him. Hadn’t she felt it, too? How their souls had melted together to be complete and whole and perfect? But, of course, she’d felt it. And by now, he understood her question.

That small conversation between her and Eret just now had shown that, in many ways, Hiccup and Astrid were still strangers to each other. The thought gave him an odd sting, one he recognised as a form of jealousy. He knew perfectly well that Eret wasn’t interested in her like that, but that wasn’t the point.

The point was that Eret knew her so well. He had a fond nickname for her, one she didn’t seem to mind. He was close enough to her that him searching for her didn’t raise any suspicions of ill intent. And he’d easily found her here because he knew her, had probably found her in here on similar occasions before already. He even knew which foods she liked and disliked, for Frigga’s sake.

Hiccup closed his eyes and swallowed. He wasn’t jealous of Eret, not really. He just wished he would know her just as well. He wished he could be that close to her and her brother, too, so that going to look for her or spending time with her alone wouldn’t be suspicious. He wished the King and Prince trusted him that much, too.

But then, that trust would be misplaced. Hiccup wasn’t sure whether the Prince knew of Eret’s secret relationship, but he at least rightfully trusted Eret to not make an inappropriate move on his sister. Unlike himself.

Hiccup grimaced as a bundle of conflicting thoughts whirled around in his head. He wanted to have this trust, but he didn’t deserve it. Not after what just happened. Being alone in a room with any girl who wasn’t an Ástir was against all rules of conduct. Touching her, kissing her, and…. and wanting her was forbidden. If anyone ever learned of this, they would both be shamed or shunned, their reputations tainted forever, even if in different ways.

Gods, if anyone ever learned of what had just happened…

The Prince would have him hanged.

He’d already warned Hiccup, and had made it clear that he wouldn’t be lenient again. Whatever the reason for the excessive restrictions for the Princess, Hiccup would suffer the consequences if anyone found out what had just happened.

And yet…

It had felt so right. A content smile spread across his face as he called forth the memory of kissing her and of how their souls had melted together. No, that couldn’t have been wrong. Soulmate-bonds were forged by the Gods, or so the legends said. Sure, they were only that, legends, nothing anyone considered to be real. But what he’d felt as she’d been in his arms, that had been real. And what he still felt now was real, too.

Hiccup reached up and pressed one hand to his chest as if he could reach inside him to where he could feel her. It wasn’t this confusing longing anymore, not the urge to get closer to her. It was something else, soothing and calming, the assurance that they were one. She was a part of him now, ultimately and irrevocably.

Laughing shakily, he shook his head in wonder. No, it hadn’t felt wrong to kiss her, or to think and dream of more. The rules of decorum said that men were only ever allowed to touch – or to have the sorts of thoughts and wishes like he’d had earlier – the Ástir of Freya’s Order, and, one day, their wives. Anything outside those two situations was unacceptable.

And yet, it didn’t feel wrong.

Because, he realized, he already thought of and felt about her as his wife, in more than one way.  

It had to be what the Gods wanted. Otherwise, why would they have brought them together like this? It was how it was supposed to be, so it couldn’t be wrong. He should be with her. But even more than that, he wanted to be with her. He wouldn’t deny that his body longed to be one with her, to complete this bond between their souls. But what he felt was so much more than that forbidden wish. He felt about her like… like a partner for life, just like his mother had been to his father. He could see how they would navigate whatever problem presented itself to them. It would be effortless. Perfect.

He wanted it all, Frigga’s vow and a life with her at his side. And he would fight for it. No matter what it would take, he would do whatever was needed to fulfil the future he’d seen.

Even if, for now, that meant keeping everything a secret.

With a smile on his lips, Hiccup waited for several minutes in the dark room, before he followed Astrid and Eret back into the crowded hall.

. o O o .

As Astrid followed Eret out of that small dining room, she had to fight the urge to lift her fingers to her mouth once again, to trace where Hiccup’s lips had touched her. It was as if she could still feel him, similar to how it had felt this afternoon, and yet also completely different. She didn’t feel confused or bewildered anymore, didn’t question what had happened, or why. Because it all made sense now. All this confused longing that had plagued her all day, the unexplainable urge to get closer to him, everything suddenly made sense.

He was the one, the one the Gods wanted her to be with. Her vision had shown the future, no matter how little sense it made and how impossible it seemed. They would find a way. They had to.

“Ah, good, you found her,” Daniel greeted them as he spotted them. He was still sitting at the same table as before, but her seat, Eret’s and the formerly empty spots around were now filled with several young men. From experience, Astrid knew that it never took long before her brother was surrounded by men like these, and that he never minded that. These men were interested in joining the royal army, and Daniel was all too eager to answer whatever questions they had to encourage them.

But as she approached, the men became quiet, eyes wide in awe. It always baffled her somewhat at how easily they would talk to their Prince, but always would lose their voices in the presence of their Princess. They threw uncertain glances at each other, some even shrinking back a little, undoubtedly the result of Daniel’s stupid law.

But, also as usual, her brother seemed not to notice the sudden tension. With a smile, he turned back to the men, and said, “If you’re interested in joining our ranks against the Malarian cowards then I suggest to visit Thor’s Temple in the coming days. The Pristrs there can answer all of your questions just as well as I can.”

The men understood it as a dismissal – which it was – and the seats around them were quickly empty again. Knowing that most of them, if not all, would be joining the seemingly endless fight against the neighbouring princedoms usually gave Astrid an uneasy feeling. But today, nothing was able to darken her mood. Not with the presence of the little fragment of Hiccup’s soul within her.

As she went to retake her former seat, Daniel looked up at her, concern clear in his eyes. But it only took him one glance at her for that concern to change into surprise.

“You look… better,” he noticed, one eyebrow raised at her probably stupid grin.

Astrid put in some effort to school her expression, even if it felt quite different from how she’d needed to do so before. Somehow, keeping a straight face had become a lot more difficult, so she decided to just play along. “Well, I feel better, too,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes, and snatched a glass of wine off the platter of a passing servant. She took a sip to calm her nerves a bit, and then added, “I told you, I’m fine. I just needed a little break from all these people here and the noise.”

It helped that it was the truth. She’d needed the solitude of that empty room, had needed those calm minutes alone with him. She’d needed for the confusion to resolve and for this strange connection to build. And now that she felt a part of him, so deep in her chest, a part of his soul forever merged with hers, she felt free and complete like she’d never felt before.

“Swanja, your mood swings really are dangerous,” Eret shook his head in amusement. It was an expression he often used towards her on varying occasions.

“Only if you don’t see them coming,” she gave her usual reply, grinned, and nudged his arm with her elbow. He made a show of rubbing the spot as if it had hurt, but she wasn’t buying that. “But seriously, those few minutes of peace and quiet were wonderful,” she added with a dreamy smile.

“A few minutes?” Daniel asked, disbelievingly.

Eret chuckled quietly. “You’ve been gone for over half an hour,” he explained, and let himself fall down into his former seat. He reached for a half-empty mug of beer, took a big swallow, and then grinned up at her. “Why do you think I went looking for you?”

“Half an hour?” she inquired, puzzled, and sat down as well. “That’s… weird. It didn’t seem that long.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun.” Daniel gave her an understanding half-smile. “Not that I mind encouraging men to join our army, but it can become tiring. And Odin knows I can understand how being away from all this chattering can be fun.” With a sigh he lifted a hand to reach for a mug standing in front of him only to let it drop again when he remembered that it was empty already.

“I think we all agree on that,” Eret murmured, and stared into his beer before taking another gulp and placing the now-equally-empty mug back on the table. “Gods, I can’t wait for this feast to be over and to finally get some rest.”

Astrid, sitting between them and sipping at her wine, couldn’t agree more. She too wanted nothing more than for this party to be over, to retreat into her chambers, to let the silly grin spread over her face and the joy in her heart flow over. She couldn’t wait to lie in her bed and relive the last half-hour over and over without risking to reveal anything to curious eyes watching her. Of course, lying in his arms and repeating it all would be even better, but not really feasible. And somehow it wasn’t that… pressing, either. Sure, she would have loved to return into his arms, his warm embrace, and to taste his lips some more. And yet, she was content with enjoying the warm glow that simply thinking of him kindled in her heart.

For now, at least.

Secretly smiling into her wine, the sound of two full mugs being placed onto the table on either side of her startled her out of her thoughts. She looked up – and gasped quietly when her gaze was met by a pair of warm and impossibly green eyes that seemed to drill into hers for a second.

“Ah, our saviour,” Eret said cheerfully. He reached for the beer Hiccup had brought and pulled it closer. “What took you so long?”

“I... I’m sorry,” Hiccup said, blushing slightly. “The kitchens got a bit busier, refilling the smorgasbord and everyone’s drinks, so I had to wait.”

“Huh, that sounds logical. Although, that serving girl who insisted on getting us drinks earlier didn’t seem to have any troubles.” He indicated toward the two empty mugs already standing on the table.

Astrid shifted nervously in her seat, but didn’t dare to interject. What could she say anyway? She knew what had taken Hiccup so long, but she couldn’t very well say so.

But Hiccup seemed to have already caught himself again. “Well, it also might be that they were reluctant to give me more drinks out of fear they might have to mop them up again,” he said in a cheerful voice that seemed to override any suspicions Eret or Daniel might have had.

“Well, then let’s make sure there won’t be any more accidents,” Daniel stated with an unreadable expression, and accepted the mug Hiccup handed him.

“Of course, Highness,” Hiccup replied, bowing slightly, and then retreated to stand a few steps away from them.

Daniel threw him a thoughtful look as if he was pondering some options in his mind, but then nodded as if to himself, and beckoned Hiccup over again. “I can’t watch you just stand there anymore,” he said, and flagged down one of the servants. “Come here please!” He turned to Hiccup. “Come and sit. And have a drink. This is a night to celebrate, after all, and Eret is right. You’re no ordinary servant who just is to stand beside his master. And you should celebrate your new position, too.”

. o O o .

Hesitantly, Hiccup sat down opposite of Eret, and threw an insecure look over at the royal siblings. The Prince was watching him with an unreadable expression on his face, and Hiccup wasn’t sure what to make of that. Astrid, however, visibly fought to not show any reaction as their eyes met for a short moment. It was strange. As if he could see right through her carefully arranged front, saw the turmoil beneath, the nervousness and the joy.

“You’re alright with this?” he heard the Prince ask in a low voice. It was obviously meant for Astrid as he nudged her lightly. But Hiccup had still heard it, acutely aware of anything that happened around her.

The small gesture seemed to have startled her as she flinched slightly and blinked as if waking up out of a stupor. “Sure,” she replied after a short pause, but with the same pleasant smile she’d worn for most of the night. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Daniel seemed as if he’d wanted to reply to that, but got interrupted by a young servant girl. “Yes, Highness? What can I do for you?”

“Ah, yes. Could you bring this man something to drink? I wouldn’t want to send him over to the kitchens a third time.”

The girl nodded, curtseyed, and then suddenly all eyes were on him. Hiccup gulped at the sudden attention. “Ahm… A glass of wine? Please?”

“Of course, milord.” She curtseyed again, and left only to return a couple of moments later with his wine.

“See? I told you so, didn’t I?” Eret said, chuckling cheerfully. “There’s no need to be overly formal around here.”

“You did... Sir,” he replied cautiously, not really sure how to react. He’d expected to simply stand there for the rest of the night, and to covertly watch her as to not be too obvious. But this? This was a new situation, and he didn’t know what to expect now. Was he allowed to talk to Astrid? Was he supposed to do so?

“All right,” Daniel lifted his glass, an amused smirk on his face now. “To Eret, and the exciting new life that lies ahead of him.”

They all followed his example, but Hiccup couldn’t help his eyes flickering to Astrid for a scant second. An exciting new life… Yes, that was what was lying ahead of them.

Hopefully.

“So, Hiccup, tell me about yourself,” Daniel said after they’d placed their glasses back on the table. “How did you end up in House Jag’r’s services? And when? I don’t remember Eret ever mentioning you in one of his letters.”

“Daniel…” Eret interjected, but Daniel raised a hand to ward off his protest.

“I don’t need more details than necessary. I just want to get to know him. We’ll be spending a great deal of time together come summer, after all. And I prefer to know the men who fight at my side.”

Hiccup threw Eret a worried look, but his cousin just shrugged and made an indistinctive waving gesture with his hand. The sign for him to go ahead. Nervously, he took another sip of his wine to buy time. There were parts of his past he’d rather forget, parts he didn't want to talk about, especially not here, at a public party, where one never knew who was listening in.

To add to his nervousness, he was aware of Astrid watching him, undeniable curiosity in her eyes. That was something he could understand all too well. If she was only half as eager to get to know him as he was for her… He wanted to talk to her. He wanted her to know him, every aspect of who he was. He even could almost picture it; how they would lie side by side, cuddled close to a fire, as he told her the story of his life. Maybe her knowing about it would even lessen the pain.

But now was not the time for all that, and those parts weren’t important right now anyway. His past didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was his future. Again, his eyes flickered to her, and a comfortable warmth spread through him. All that mattered was the exciting new life that lay ahead of them, and how he could make it possible.

Besides, those painful parts were not what the Prince was interested in anyway. Surely, he already knew...

Hiccup took a deep breath, and let his eyes rest innocently on the tabletop between them. Or, more precisely, on Astrid’s hands around her glass. He didn’t dare to look up at her again, but her mere presence let a tingling warmth spread through him. A warmth that made talking easier. “A few months back,” he began in a firmer voice than he’d expected, “I happened to meet Eret here by chance in a tavern along the royal highway. I’d… been on the road for a while then and looked accordingly. In addition, Eret apparently had thought me dead, so it took a while until he recognised me and believed what he saw.”

“Hel yes, that was a night,” Eret threw in, laughing. “I thought I was surely seeing an unquiet spirit, there to haunt me for the rest of my life.”

“It’s quite possible that the spirit you had in your glass wasn’t completely unblamable, that’s true,” Hiccup replied dryly, then dug his head a bit, and added, “Sir.”

Eret threw him a dark look, but both Astrid and Daniel chuckled, so Eret decided to ignore his formal attitude for now. “Anyway, it took Dagur a little while to convince me he was actually real.”

“Ah, your annual meeting to inspect the territory along the border?” Astrid threw in.

After a short moment of hesitation, Eret nodded. “Aye. Exactly that. Although, when we met Hiccup, I brought him to my father immediately.”

Hiccup saw the slight confusion on Astrid’s face. But there was no way of explaining why the Grand Duke had been interested in him, not here and not now. He would do so. In time, he would tell her everything. But that time was not tonight.

“I see. And then you decided to stay with House Jag’r?” the Prince asked, thoughtfully, which made Eret grin and Hiccup snort.

“We didn’t leave him much of a choice. Father insisted on keeping him there, at least until he’d gained a bit of weight again. You said earlier he needs filling out, but he actually already looks a lot better than when I found him. Besides, he was great help with the horses – the Jag'r blood showing, obviously.”

“Well, I guess that lessens the shame a little,” Daniel commented, smiling past his mug as he took a swallow. “Imagine how embarrassing it would have been if it had been a complete stranger who was that good with those beasts.”

“Gods, no. I don't even want to think about that.” Still grinning, Eret threw his hand up in mock exasperation – even though Hiccup suspected that there was at least some truth in what he’d said.

Daniel shook his head at his friend’s antics, but then became serious again. He turned his attention back to Hiccup, and repeated his question from before. “But still, you choose to stay?”

Hiccup hesitated, but then nodded. “Yes… I'd been on the road for two years at that point,” he said quietly, and then added in a lighter tone, “It was nice to have a bed, a roof, and regular meals again. Plus I like working with animals. I did so before, too, so… Anyway, it was better than wandering around without a goal, so I stayed.”

“And became a squire,” Daniel mused. Then he added, lower and almost casually, “Did you learn anything?”

At first, Hiccup wasn't sure what the Prince meant. What he'd learned? He'd learned that even down here in the south, winter nights could become damn cold, and that even the dirtiest inn was better than sleeping under a snowy tree. And that catching rabbits could be far more difficult than he'd thought. But then he realized that was probably not what the Prince was interested in.

“No, Highness, I haven't found anything. No hints or clues, not even rumours,” he said quietly, looking down at his hands, which had turned white from how tightly they gripped the wine glass. Letting out a breath he hadn't know he'd been holding, he forced himself to relax, and even lifted the glass to take another sip of the heavy sweet wine. He kept the liquid in his mouth, and concentrated on the pleasant taste until he'd calmed down again.

Two years wasted with the fruitless hunt for information. His eyes glided over Astrid's confused face as he forced them not to linger where they shouldn't – at least not while her brother was watching him. Two years gone, years in which he could have done so many more sensible things. Refining his fighting skills, for example. That would have been useful. Or, if he’d sought out his remaining family with House Jag’r directly, he could have met her two years earlier, and would already know her so much better.

“I see,” the Prince murmured with a concerned voice that tore Hiccup out of his thoughts. But when he looked up, the Prince was smiling again. “Anyway, Eret is right. There's no need for exaggerated formality. We'll be shovelling mud together, so you can leave the Highness for when formality calls for it.”

Hiccup felt his lips twitch, but didn't let the small smile show on his face. “As you wish… Milord.”

For several minutes, the Prince’s friendly interrogation went on. Talking to him and Eret while Astrid was quietly sitting between them was… weird, to say the least. He could sense her growing frustration at holding back with her own questions. But asking those probably far more personal questions surely would have raised suspicions, and there was nothing he could do. On the contrary, he would have loved to ask her all kinds of things himself, but couldn't do so.

He wondered, for example, what kind of food she preferred, as it seemed like most of the things he'd absentmindedly placed on her plate weren't to her liking. Or had she eaten before and simply wasn't hungry? She certainly didn't seem to mind for Eret and her brother to serve themselves. Idly, he wondered whether he could get away with doing so, too. Whether he could take the other half of that bit of cheese she’d eaten earlier, for example, or the remaining grapes. But despite his ever-growing hunger, he quickly decided against that. The Prince might have invited him into this small circle, but that didn’t mean that he already had the same status as Eret, who had known them for all his life.

“You know, Hiccup,” Eret said after his stomach had audibly demanded to get fed again, “you are allowed to get a refill, even if you’ve eaten already. There’s no need to go hungry tonight. And if I may make a suggestion, try Heather’s pastries. They are absolutely delicious. In fact, if you get some, you might as well bring some for me, too.”

Hiccup threw a questioning look at his cousin, not sure what exactly Heather’s pastries were supposed to be, or where to find them amidst the endless display of food. But he got helped out by an unexpected yet exceedingly pleasant surprise.

“Eret, he probably has no idea what you’re talking about,” chided Astrid him in a playful voice. “But I was just thinking of going and getting a few for myself. Sitting still here all night is not for me anyway. Would you like to accompany me, Hiccup? If you want I can explain the different fillings to you.” She stood up, and threw him a questioning and yet completely innocent look across the table.

“C-certainly,” he mumbled, stood up, and bowed slightly in her direction. “Thank you for the offer, Milady.” She gave him the same pleasant smile she’d worn all night, and yet he could feel the honest warmth behind it. A part of him registered the worried glance Daniel threw at his sister, and also how Eret rolled his eyes at the Prince. But those were only unimportant sidebits, and he practically immediately forgot about it.

His heartbeat quickened as he went to where she waited for him to round the long table. She didn’t say anything, just turned and nodded him to follow her.

“So, you haven’t eaten anything yet tonight?” she asked once they reached the long food-laden table. It was a simple question, and yet it held so much more meaning. There was the silent acknowledgement of her knowing that he hadn’t eaten in the rather too innocent tone of her voice, and also the subtle reminder to keep the conversation casual.

“No, I haven’t, Milady,” he answered simply, staying half a step behind her as she walked down the long table. “I was… otherwise engaged, and didn’t get the chance so far.”

A small smile played around her lips, so utterly kissable that his thoughts drifted back to the minutes they'd shared in that darkened room, to when those lips had so effortlessly moved with his. He remembered how sweet her lips had tasted, how hot they’d been against his, and the small noises that had escaped them, when–

“I see,” she replied, and then suddenly stopped and turned toward the table. “So, what do you like better? Sweet or savoury?”

“Excuse me?” Hiccup blinked, fighting to keep his thoughts from wandering.

She turned, and threw him a quick glance that made clear she knew where his thought just had been. “Heather’s pastries,” she said, and indicated toward several plates with small morsels on them. “Would you rather have some with a sweet or a savoury filling?”

“Uhm…” he made stupidly, and tried to concentrate on the apparently many different types of food. “I’m not sure. Both? What’s in all of these? There must be at least twenty different kinds. And why Heather’s, anyway? Is it a special recipe?” he blurted out, momentarily forgetting that he was supposed to keep up at least some sort of formal behaviour. Remembering that was difficult when it was only her, even amidst a crowd of people who probably had many close eyes on them.

Astrid chuckled quietly, and the sweet sound momentarily distracted him again. Gods, he could listen to her laughter all day. “Heather is a friend of ours. She works in the kitchens, and she’s also… ah, never mind. Anyway, these are her speciality. There are some filled with apples, pears, plums, honey, berries, or nuts,” she indicated toward a few of the plates, and then went on with some others, “and others with varying kinds of meat, cheese, and vegetables. Eret and Daniel are going to want some of these.” She reached for an empty plate and began placing several pastries from the pile that she’d indicated as having meat fillings on it, along with some with berries and nuts.

On a whim, he took the plate out of her hand, careful not to touch her even though there was little he wanted to do more. She rolled her eyes a little, but rewarded him with a small smile nonetheless. It was, after all, only sensible for him to carry whatever she wanted to take back to their table.

“And what do you want?”

You!, he wanted to answer, but caught himself in the last moment. It was the simple truth as he would have liked nothing more than to bend a little closer and bring his mouth to her neck, to let his tongue tickle her ear, and to carefully nibble on the skin over her throat. He wanted to bury his fingers in her gorgeous hair, wanted to slowly disentangle it strand by strand. He wanted to hold her in his arms again, to feel so wonderful and complete.

Biting his lips, he ducked his head to keep his thoughts and emotions from being too obvious. “Which ones can you recommend?” he asked instead, voice low and rougher than intended. “What do you like best?”

He could hear how she inhaled sharply, but didn’t react any further. She only sounded a bit shaky as she replied, “Well, my favourites are these, with honey and chopped nuts. And these here with apples are great, too. Or, if you prefer something more savoury, then these here with white cheese and–”

She broke off when he reached past her to take a few of each type she’d indicated. He was careful to keep a certain minimum of space between them, but it was still enough to make her breath go a little faster.

“Hiccup!” she gasped, nearly inaudible, but the warning was clear in her voice.

He retreated again as if nothing had happened, and began to rearrange the pastries after reaching for a second plate. “Your suggestions sound good,” he said matter-of-factly, a small smile playing around his lips. It was true, those would have been the fillings he’d have wanted to try anyway. But knowing that she seemed to have a similar taste to his made him happy for no particular reason.

Once he was done, he held up two identical plates laden with small tasty morsels. “One for you to share with your brother, and one for me to share with Eret, if that’s all right with you, Milady,” he said formally. “Are there any other types you want to add?”

She gave him a strange look – something between a warm smile, appreciation, and fear – and added a few more, filled with either blackberries or minced veal, to both plates, and then walked past him back to their table. “You need to be more careful,” she murmured just loud enough for him to guess what she’d said and without looking at him. “No one can know…”

Hiccup wasn’t sure whether she’d wanted to say more, but they got interrupted when he needed to dodge a middle-aged nobleman who came in their direction. And then they were back at their table, where she couldn’t say any more.

But then, her words had been clear enough. Nobody could know about what had happened or about that bond between them. The bond that felt like a reassuring hearthfire, glowing in his heart, reminding him of her at every second, and making him feel warm and light.

He would need to learn how to control these feelings, to not let them show on his face or in his action at any given moment. And he would need to distract himself until he’d learned how to do that.

. o O o .

Comments are always welcome :)

Next Chapter

#for the love of a princess #hiccstrid #hiccstrid fanfiction #httyd #httyd fanfiction #httyd fandom #royalty au #hiccstrid royal au

[higuchimon]

[fanfic] Smoothing Over

Something wasn’t right. Jun wasn’t certain what it was, but she knew that something had changed and it had done so all but overnight. Tiny memories of whatever it was flickered through her thoughts, nothing lasting long enough for her to be sure of what they were – only vague impressions. Impressions of a pair of large blue eyes staring up at her, of a different pair of eyes and a laugh that annoyed her and reminded her of home at the same time. None of those stuck around long enough for her to truly say she remembered them from one moment to the next. But just long enough for her to be aware and uneasy.

She pushed the food around on her plate and raised her head to stare across the table, lips parting to ask if she were the only one to feel this way.

Only there wasn’t anyone there. She sat alone at the small table in her tiny dining area.

Of course there wasn’t. She was twenty years old – she lived alone in her apartment, far closer to her college than her parents’ apartment. Who else would be here?

And she’d been glad to get out on her own. She loved her parents and she loved being an only child but she reveled in this freedom. There shouldn’t be anything unusual at all about not being there, about being free and able to do what she wanted, when she wanted. Sure, she had classes at the university and she and – she and -

Sharp pains began to shoot through her head, and Jun pushed her plate aside to lay her head down on the table, hoping that they’d ease up. This had been happening more often lately. Elec – someone had been worried about her.

She grappled after the name, but it slipped out of her hands, and the way her head thudded only increased, until she stopped trying. It left a lot better not to even think about it. Maybe not to even think at all.

Maybe I should go back to bed. That wasn’t such a bad idea. Her head throbbed and something inside of her throbbed and there seemed to be the faintest hint of unease that she couldn’t shake. If she’d been able to put it into words, she might have thought that someone called her name. But she heard nothing.

Slowly she stumble to her feet and cast a brief glance around the room. Everything seemed as good as she’d left it the night before. Nothing really seemed off – except everything, in a way that she couldn’t understand or really get a mental fix on. There was an empty corner in the bedroom. Hadn’t he had a cushion or a bed there?

No, why would she? She didn’t have any pets. She’d never been fond of dogs and she’d never met a cat that she really liked – and she wasn’t sure if her lease would allow one in the first place. They’d argued about Ele – another sharp stab through her head and Jun almost fell down, gasping in pain.

What was that name? She came so close and every time she felt it within the reach of her thoughts, that sharp stabbing pain tore through her, preventing her from remembering it. Preventing her from even wanting to remember it, because remembering hurt so very much.

She managed to get on the bed and shoved her head under the pillow, blocking out the light that seared into her head. She hoped she’d be able to fall asleep soon.

Perhaps she did. She wasn’t ever certain. But at some point later, the light wasn’t as harsh and the annoying sound of Momoe’s ringtone jangled for her attention. Slowly she grabbed for the phone and mumbled.

“This better be good. What did I drink last night?” She didn’t drink all that often but had she had something at all? That might have contributed to her condition right now.

Momoe let out a heavy sigh. “No idea, but I probably had some of it. My head’s been throbbing all day and things are just weird.”

Jun rubbed her forehead. The headache had eased off a little, though she could still feel it waiting to pounce on her again.

“You have no idea,” she groaned, leaning back and considering burying her head under the pillows. She doubted it would do anything to help but she’d never know if she didn’t try.

Momoe made a commiserating noise before she sighed deeply. “I keep wondering if I’ve forgotten something. There’s nothing missing; I’ve checked for all of my stuff, but sometimes – sometimes -”

Jun frowned slowly. “Sometimes it’s like you turn around and what you expected to be there isn’t – only there isn’t anything that should have been there.”

She could all but see Momoe jerking up at her words. “Yeah. That's it exactly. You too?”

“It’s been going on since yesterday, at least.” Jun draped her free hand over her forehead. “Did we catch something? Is there anything going around?”

She could hear the faint sound of Momoe’s fingers tapping. “I don’t know for sure. But – Chizuru is feeling the same way.” A brief hesitant. “No one else I know about. But – I keep feeling like I should ask someone else.”

Jun worried at her lip. “Who?”

“I don’t know.” Momoe sighed. “I hate feeling like this. It’s like something huge is missing but no one else knows about it and I don’t know what it is, just that it’s not there and it should be.”

Jun could not have agreed more. She winced as her head throbbed again. “Maybe we should all get together and try to take notes or something? Maybe then we can figure it out.”

It would almost be like when they were kids again, making plans to go to a concert together. They’d done that a lot – though or the life of her, Jun couldn’t remember any of the bands they’d gone to see. She vaguely remembered the fact they’d gone to concerts, but which ones?

Meh, it couldn’t be that important. Concerts three years ago, or more, with bands that had probably broken up already, weren’t as important as figuring out why all three of them felt as if they’d spent way too many nights out on the town, when they clearly hadn’t.

“That sounds like a good idea. I’ll grab her and we’ll come over,” Momoe promised. “Be there soon.”

Jun bid farewell, breaking the connection, and dragged herself more firmly under her pillow. She knew she should get up, wash her fae, and get ready or her guests, but she didn’t. All she wanted to do was stay where she was and possibly fall back asleep.

He’d call me lazy...

The thought floated through her head, there and gone in a second, leaving behind only the faintest impression. She didn’t even know who the ‘he’ might be. She’d admired a lot of guys over the years, but she’d never been close to any of them..

The faintest flicker of cinnamon red hair just like her own danced through her head, vanishing when she tried to grab it, and in moments she didn’t even remember she’d thought about that in the first place.

Slowly she dragged herself to her feet and made her way out of the bedroom. Momoe and Chizuru didn’t live that far away so they’d be there soon. She managed to get drinks ready, then flopped down on the coach and waited. Almost as soon as she did, her mind more or less blanked out, only somewhat aware of the passage of time.

When the knock came she remembered she had to pull herself up and unlock the door. She cursed herself for not remembering to do so before she sat down, even as she made her way over.

Momoe and Chizuru greeted her as she let them in. Neither of them looked much better than she did right now. Chizuru looked as if she’d just managed to get a shower before they came over, but her hair was still limp and lifeless, while Momoe wore her glasses instead of her contacts – she’d gotten the contacts just a year earlier but Jun had almost forgotten what she looked like with them all.

“Hey,” she greeted with a nod, closing the door. “I got drinks.” She waved one hand towards her fridge. “I’d ask how you’re doing but it’s pretty obvious.”

Momoe nodded as she took a seat. “Glad we didn’t have to walk for too long. I just feel horrible.”

Chizuru brought their drinks over and settled down next to her sister. “So do I. I think Mantarou has a touch of whatever it is too but he wasn’t answering his phone.” A vague frown flickered over her lips. “I – I thought I was going to call someone else and ask them but I couldn’t remember who I wanted to ask.”

Jun leaned her head back. “It’s – it’s -” She knew she should know this. They had most of the same friends, if not all of them. But none of the names she could think of seemed right. Slowly she shook her head. “Don’t know.”

Momoe supped at her drink. “So if we can’t remember, then what do we do?”

Jun didn’t have the faintest idea. Planning hadn’t ever been her strong suit. She thought she was better at it than she’d been a few years earlier but this wasn’t something she had any experience with. No one she knew did.

“It’s probably nothing,” Chizuru said at last, drinking her dink. “If it were really something, then wouldn’t everyone be feeling it?” She tapped her fingers on her drink can. “I mean, what are we really feeling? Headaches.”

“Lack of energy,” Momoe added.

Jun nodded. “And kind of feeling like things aren’t – right.”

“But they are right,” Chizuru pointed out. Jun knew that she intended to study psychology or psychiatry or something like that when she got to college. Sounded like she was getting an early start. “If we were missing something, we’d really see it. It wouldn’t be a feeling. There’d be gaps in places that aren’t there.”

Jun considered that for a few minutes. Her headache eased up enough so she could do that, for which she found herself quite grateful. I think she’s right. Jun wanted her to be right. She wanted this headache to pass, all of these bad feelings to pass, and to have everything back the way that it should be.

But somewhere in the very back of her mind, the faintest hint of a whisper said that things weren’t right and they weren’t going to be right until - until – she didn’t know. But wasn’t sure what was wrong or how to fix it or even if she could fix it.

Slowly she leaned her head back. From this angle she could see the place where she’d vaguely thought a cushion might fit. Maybe she’d get one, if she wanted one there so badly.

A nice reddish-brown one, like – like -

Jun winced, pressing one hand to the side of her face. Words choked in her throat and she swallowed hard, straining for anything that might make sense. So far as she could tell, neither Momoe nor Chizuru noticed anything out of the ordinary.

Then, almost at once, the headache passed. For the first time in a day and a half, she could actually think clearly. She raised her head to look at her friends, who also looked as if they felt better.

She couldn't remember just why they’d come over, but she liked having them there regardless.

“Hey, are there any good concerts in town? Let’s hit one up, for old time’s sake,” she suggested. Chizuru brightened.

“That sounds like a good idea. I think Knife of Day is playing this weekend.”

Jun started to open her mouth to agree. She thought she liked Knife of Day – then she stopped and shook her head.

“No, not them.” Her nose crinkled. “They’re not what I’m in the mood for.”

Truth to tell, she couldn’t even remember what they looked like or what kind of music they played. There was just a strong feeling that she didn’t want to go there and see them. Maybe another time.

Chizuru shrugged. “Got anyone else in mind?”

“What about Imagination Moment?” Momoe suggested. “They’re getting pretty popular and they’ve got a great sound.”

Jun couldn’t remember having heard them before. That already made it interesting. She thought about digging her old autograph book out and seeing if she had nay space left in it – if it were still around. Had she even remembered to pack it when she left home?

Meh, it didn’t matter. She’d rather enjoy the music than squeal over the musicians these days. She wasn’t a teenager anymore.

“They’ve got Hush Dream opening for them,” Chizuru said, a smile flickering over her lips. “They’re amazing.”

Now Hush Dream she had heard and seeing them live had been on her to-do list for a while. Especially now that she actually felt like going out instead of stuffing her head under a pillow.

“All right, let’s figure out when we’re going to go,” Jun said, brightening up. Whatever had been going on, it had passed now, and everything already started to look so much better.

The prospect of a concert and perhaps a meal out with her friends cheered her up even more. If there was anything missing – and everything Chizuru said meant that there couldn’t be – then it would just have to take care of itself.

Somewhere in her deepest heart, so deep that Jun couldn’t see it and wasn’t even aware of it right now, a tiny emotion twitched. Perhaps it was grief. Perhaps it was something else – loneliness, the reaching for a companion lost and unable to be found.

And somewhere else, somewhere where she and her friends couldn’t see, held in the grip of those who cared nothing for the bonds they broke so long as it served their preferred means, five small devices beeped ever so faintly, their light faded away, and five eggs quivered into silence.

Notes: Back before Tri and Kizuna, there was an audio drama released in 2003 that stated Jun, Momoe, Chizuru, and Shuu were now Chosen. But along with so much else, it seems Tri decided that hadn't happened. But that's too much fun for me to just leave. So I decided that their memories got erased and their partners - and all memories of their siblings and those partners - were removed. The same goes for Iori and Ken's parents, except without the Digimon partners.

The five Digivices/eggs belong to Jun, Momoe, Chizuru, Kido Shuu, and someone I haven't decided on yet. Might end up being an OC, if I continue this rather bitter angsty storyline. Time will tell - and interest. Also, I haven't decided if this is a breeds AU or not. It could go either way.

#fanfic #higuchimon writes #digimon adventure 02 #digimon tri #motomiya jun #inoue momoe #inoue chizuru #a touch of saltiness about tri in general

[voightsgirl]

crossfire: volume i - chapter 18

a/n yeeet so i’m off to oxford for a four-day university interview (lowkey shitting myself) so i probably won’t be posting much for you over the next few days!! but i will post quite a few chapters over the weekend to make up for it, and I think, with what’s coming your way, you’ll probably appreciate that!!            & previous chapters can be found here

☆ it never gets easier ☆

Although Erin and Jay made an effort to dress up nice for the dinner with Avery’s social worker, Erin wearing a gorgeous burgundy dress and Jay his suit jacket, Avery clearly hadn’t received the memo. She traipsed out of her bedroom a few moments after Erin called her name, dressed in ripped jeans, her black doc martens, and an old t-shirt and hoodie.

“You ready?” she asked, and Erin just nodded, smirking slightly to herself as she noticed the similarities between Avery’s wardrobe and that of her fifteen year old self. It made her smirk slightly sadly as she caught a glimpse of herself in the window over the mantelpiece, actually, because all the lipstick in the world couldn’t cover that little girl up – but, with Avery here, for once Erin didn’t feel like she needed to. That little girl was her, so why should she bother?

“Let’s go,” Jay said, and, placing a reassuring hand on the small of Erin’s back, he ushered the two women out of the door and shut it behind them, taking a deep breath to prepare himself for what – and who – came next.

☆

When they arrived at the restaurant, Sharon was already sat at the table.

“Are we late?” Erin whispered out of the corner of her mouth to Jay, shocked at the idea that her constantly-on-time-for-everything boyfriend could possibly have been late to something as important as this.

Jay checked his watch. “No,” he shook his head. “She’s early.”

Sharon had noticed them and waved them over enthusiastically. Jay frowned. This was a very different woman to the one he’d met (and yelled at) earlier.

“Erin, Jay,” Sharon greeted them both with a friendly handshake. “Avery,” she smiled. Avery just nodded her greeting, looking bored.

Sharon seemed to notice Jay’s raised eyebrows and confusion at her change in character – as well as attire – and she winked at him, which just made him look even more baffled.

Seeing the awkwardness, Erin spoke up. “Shall we sit?””

Sharon nodded, retaking her place at the table. Avery sat down next to her, leaving Erin and Jay the seats next to each other and opposite her and Sharon. Erin took the seat next to Sharon instead of the one next to Avery that was the one she was naturally drawn to, noticing Jay’s reluctance, and he smiled at her gratefully.

“So,” Sharon began after the awkward silence that had fallen after the waiter had taken their order and left had become too much. “I assume you both want an explanation?”

Erin and Jay nodded, exchanging glances.

“Yes,” Avery said. At the looks on the adults’ faces, she continued, “I mean, Jay yelled at you. Of course I want an explanation – hey, maybe if it’s good enough, I can sell the movie rights! I would so pay to see that.” The sarcasm dripped from her tongue, heavy and thick as lava.

“Okay,” Sharon continued as if Avery had never spoken, while Erin and Jay put on their best adult listening faces and tried not to laugh. “I find that in cases like these, where there’s a couple – and, usually, an unmarried one – applying to look after a child, there is always one of the two who is more keen than the other, one who initiates the situation, as such. Erin was clearly the one who came up with the idea, and I needed to ensure that Jay, you too, were up for this and ready to fight for custody of Avery.”

“You mean it was a test?” Jay exclaimed, not quite believing it.

The social worker shook her head. “Not exactly,” she told him “But if it were, you’d have passed. I was, however, genuinely concerned about both of your histories, and your work arrangements and how your timing would work out with Avery’s schooling, but Erin proved to me that you could handle school and work timings, and Jay, well, you more than showed me that you and Erin are going to give Avery her best chance.”

Jay smiled. “We will,” he assured her – but everyone around the table knew that he was talking more to Avery than he was to Sharon. Erin reached across the table and squeezed Avery’s hand.

“He’s right,” she said. “We will.”

Avery smiled for a second before she drew her hand away and looked down at her knife and fork.

Erin smiled sadly. Baby steps, she thought. Even a small genuine smile from Avery was progress.

“Besides, there was something Jay said that really got me thinking,” Sharon said.

“Oh?” asked Erin.

“That maybe your pasts are exactly the reason why you would be able to look after Avery well.”

Erin smiled, and she met Jay’s eyes above the table, reaching her hand down underneath it to pat him gently on the knee.

Avery looked slightly confused by the whole situation, whether it was the newness of having someone there to fight for her, or because at no point during this conversation had anyone talked about what these “histories” and “pasts” actually were. Erin’s, she had an idea of, but what had Jay been through that raised such a red flag for Sharon? Avery had no clue, but something told her that dinner probably wasn’t the best place to bring it up.

Luckily, the waiter chose that moment to arrive with their food, and Erin chose that moment to launch into a fond description of Will and Natalie and Owen, and they eased gently into conversation.

By the end of dinner, Avery almost believed that they could be a proper family. Almost.

After dessert, they began to gather their things and made to leave. Sharon insisted on paying the check even though Jay and Erin protested persistently (persuaded, eventually, only by Avery’s “Jeez, guys. Just take the free meal!”). Jay and Avery left first, leaving Erin and Sharon behind and making their way to the parking lot, still chatting.

Erin smiled as she watched them, and it was only what she bent over to pick up her scarf from where it had fallen during the meal, that she realized that Sharon was doing the same. “You know, I’ve been Avery’s social worker for the past four and a half years, and every single placement that I’ve found for her has fallen through. It never gets easier, you know? Getting their hopes up only for them to lash out and blame you when it all goes wrong and inevitably ends.”

Erin looked at her. “At least this time, she knows it’s only temporary?” she offered in an attempt to make Sharon rest easier.

Sharon nodded, and then suddenly, as if a light had been flicked on inside her brain, she snapped her head up to face Erin properly. “But what if it didn’t have to be?” she asked, the idea sparkling in her eyes.

Erin’s jaw dropped. “You mean –”

“I mean, this dinner went well. Extremely well, in fact. I can see how dedicated you and Jay are, and from what you were saying about your friends and family, you have plenty of support. What if you, maybe, considered – considered becoming official, long term foster parents for Avery.”

“Sharon…” Erin breathed. She didn’t know what to say. “I really, really don’t know if we’re ready for that…”

“I – of course,” she backtracked hastily. “That was unprofessional of me. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s not that,” Erin reassured her. “It’s just…Avery just moved in. This is all happening really fast…”

“I know,” the social worker told her. “I’m sorry. I got ahead of myself. But seeing you guys with her really got me thinking.” She paused. “Do you want to know what else Jay said to me earlier that really persuaded me?”

Erin nodded.

“’You take Erin Lindsay away from this kid and you take away the best chance she’s got.’” She quoted Jay’s words perfectly.

Erin choked up a little at the phrase. “I…” she began, but she didn’t know how to respond.

“Erin, I think he’s right. And I’m not asking you to make any decisions right away. You have until your case is over, after all, and the protective custody can be lifted…but just think about it?”

Erin took a deep breath. She wanted it. So badly. Of course she did. If Erin really was Avery’s best chance, then she’d do whatever she could to make sure that Avery stayed with her. But first, she needed to know that this was actually the case – and that she wasn’t just clinging to Avery for personal, or worse still, selfish reasons.

“Okay,” she caved. “I’ll consider it. But no promises. And no one else finds out, understood?”

Sharon nodded. “Understood. Thanks, Erin.”

The two of them followed Jay and Avery out to the parking lot. They had taken refuge from the bitter cold in the car, and were bonding excitedly over their mutual disgust of Erin’s music taste. Apparently classic rock wasn’t Avery’s thing, either. She said goodbye to Sharon and made her way to the car, and threw open the door to the driver’s seat where Jay was sitting, looking like a guilty puppy.

“Out,” Erin commanded, and Jay saluted ironically, nudging Avery out of the passenger’s side. She just shrugged and climbed over into the back seat, ignoring both Erin and Jay’s protests at her dirty shoes scuffing the leather seats of their precious car.

Erin shook her head and twisted the key in the ignition, starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot.

Jay’s phone rang suddenly and he answered it within seconds, seeing that the caller ID was Will.

“Hey, brother,” he greeted him. “What’s up?”

“Well, you seem awfully chipper. That got anything to do with a phone call I got from DCFS earlier?”

The knowing tone of Will’s voice made Jay panic.

“Why did they…?”

“Relax, Jay,” Will chuckled down the line. “Erin wrote Nat and I down as emergency contacts, and they rang to check that this was okay and that they had all of our information correct.”

“Phew,” Jay smiled. After this morning, he’d half expected Will to say he’d been interrogated by Sharon the way that he had.

“Anyway, where are you, little brother?” Will asked.

“Who’s asking?” Jay raised an eyebrow. They were nearly back at the apartment.

“Me and Nat. We’ve been waiting at your place for the past ten minutes with a bottle of wine. Please tell me you’ll be back soon. I’ve been dying for a drink all day.”

“Uh…” Jay covered the speaker with the palm of his hand as he spoke to Erin and Avery in the car. “Will and Natalie are waiting for us to celebrate and meet Avery. You guys okay with that? I know it’s late and we’re working tomorrow, so I can get rid of them if you want…”

“No, I want to meet them,” Avery smiled.

“It’s not that late,” Erin said. “And it’s not like you have school tomorrow or anything.”

“Okay. Yeah, Will,” he returned to the phone conversation. “We’ll be five minutes.”

“Sweet. See you, Jay. And by the way…I’m really proud of you.” He hung up before Jay could respond, but a huge grin spread across Jay’s face nonetheless.

☆

“Avery!” Erin called from the kitchen the next morning as the light streamed through the huge glass window and bathed Chicago in the fresh glow of a November morning. Jay had made breakfast – eggs on toast, Erin’s favorite – but so far Avery hadn’t emerged from her bedroom. Erin frowned. “Should I be worried?” she asked Jay, who just shrugged.

“It’s only seven, and she’s a teenage girl. She’s probably still asleep.”

Erin chuckled lightly. “After last night? I’ll bet.”

Will and Natalie had been at their place for hours – drinking beer and laughing and chatting away to Avery. They told stories of their work, of Owen, of each other and how they met and of times they’d spent with Erin and Jay, and Will even cracked out some of the old baby Jay stories and told Avery some of the things the two brothers got up to when they were growing up, which made her laugh.

At some point during the night, though, Avery had snuck out to the bathroom without anyone noticing. She had stood over the bathroom sink, staring at herself in the mirror. She couldn’t explain what was wrong – she was having a great time, and everyone here was being so nice to her, and not pity-nice, either, genuinely nice – but for some reason she just felt incredible detached. It was like she was floating above herself, watching her body talk and laugh and have fun, and she couldn’t get back down to earth.

Maybe it was the drugs. Or, more specifically, the lack of them – she hadn’t had a fix since Erin and Jay had found her in the alleyway and although she wasn’t feeling it just yet, she had become slightly twitchy in the last hour or so, and she figured that the withdrawal was on its way.

Erin didn’t know any of this, of course, and Avery didn’t want her to. Although she was grateful to Erin for helping her out, she knew it was only temporary. And, in spite of herself, she hated the feeling that being here gave her: that she was a charity project. That she was dependent on somebody else. She didn’t like needing people.

So she splashed a bit of water on her face, smiled into the mirror and stepped outside.

“Erin?” she’d said quietly, and Erin had turned around.

“Is everything okay?” she asked her, a look of fond concern on her face as she put down her drink.

Avery nodded. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I’m just – really tired. Do you mind if I go to bed?”

Erin smiled. “No, not at all! Hey – I know this was probably a bit overwhelming for you, and I’m sorry if you feel that way…?” she said it as if it were a question, and Avery felt the need to respond.

“Uh…no – no, it was fun. Your friends are really nice.”

Erin narrowed her eyes slowly, but didn’t push. “Okay, well. Sleep well. Thanks for being so brilliant today, I know it’s tough.”

Avery just nodded. “Night.” She looked over at Jay, Will and Natalie who were still deep in conversation. “Night, everyone. Nice to meet you.”

“Night,” Natalie and Will chorused and everyone started to chuckle at how utterly adorable the pair were. Even Avery smiled slightly.

Erin watched as she disappeared into her bedroom and shut the door. She had the feeling that something was wrong but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it – and if being in Avery’s position herself had taught her anything, it was that she would never violate her trust by going into her bedroom when she wasn’t wanted. So, even though she wanted to, she didn’t go and check on Avery until the next morning.

She left Jay in the kitchen and went to go wake Avery up. Although her rule about Avery’s bedroom being her own private place, she really did need to wake her up soon as she was supposed to be starting the school Voight had gotten her a place in today, and they were not about to be late.

“Avery,” she called again, knocking twice on the door, but the second she flung it open, she noticed that Avery was nowhere to be seen – and the window was wide open, the curtains flapping in the early morning breeze. “Son of a…” Erin whispered, staring in disbelief.

Where the hell had she gone? And, more importantly – why?

☆ ☆ ☆

thank you all so much for reading and supporting this fic!! if you’d like to be notified when it’s updated either head over to my ff.net account or message me and i’ll tag you at the end of the post :)

@allenting @sophiaxjesse @writteninthestarsandthesky@riverdaleangels@chillmydude @halsteadpd

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[gocchisama]

Nadeshiko Glass Cannon : Story of Hirate Yurina (平手友梨奈）

Today marks the day of Keyakizaka major debut. 6 April 2016, 20 girls were introduced to the press to become Nogizaka sister group. What kind of music they would produce, what kind of appeal they would develop to grow a fanbase, all was unknown. Among those girls stood a rather young and plain one, wearing a mushroom haircut. With a calm and poised speech, she declared her will to do her best on behalf of the group. Little did we know that she would become the unmovable center of Keyakizaka. The further we dove into her world, the more questions roses. Just who is Hirate Yurina? But this is precisely her appeal : this mysterious side of her. Fans wants to know more about her, and for each layer of her personality lifted, the more fascinating she become.

“Techi” comes from her name “hirate” (平手）and friendly suffixe “chan”. To make it more original, “Hirate-chan” became “Hiratechi” then “Techi”. Credit to  @yurina46tento.

Prior to their first release, Silent Majority, there was roughly 2-3 months of introduction during “Keyakitte, Kakenai?” their regular variety show. Hirate isn’t the extrovert kind of girl, and started the series as very quiet and humble. This shyness is quite understandable after all, this is the first time most of the girls step into the idol world. You could catch sparkles of excitement from her when MC (Tsuchida & Sawabe) talked about japanese comedians (she’s fond of them), but overall she was just waiting for the two host to ask her questions and react from it. It can be seen as passive. Furthermore, her lack of reactivity encouraged Tsuchida to tease her in some extent. It is true that, at the beginning, Yurina was intimidated.

A girl whose hobby is to listen to music, who practice basketball as main club activity, and dislike haunted house. Techi’s profile is not what you could call uncommon. To be honest, with girls with unexpected skills like Horsemanship or past modeling work, Yurina comes pretty average. But is it really a rebuke? To be reserved makes the girls look cute and innocent (and thus explain why people want to tease them). Granted, she is not creating opportunities of wide laughter in the studio like Oda Nana or Ozeki Rika, but many times her airheadness brought comical situation and liven up the mood. For example, when doing the monomane of GO!Minagawa (a comedian) she was the only one who accompanied the move with his “sound” signature, making her embarassed.

The innocence of a 14 years old, makes her lovely. It could be just that, but fate was preparing a different path for her. TAKAHIRO-sensei, the main choregrapher of the group, had authority of the first senbatsu choice as he was in charge of Silent Majority dance. And while Techi ability to dance and facial expression weren’t outstanding, he felt Yurina’s strong feeling toward her dear Keyakizaka, and his intuition lead him to chose her as Keyakizaka first center. From there, early fans witnessed a change. The change.

“At crossroads brimming with people, where will you go? (Being washed away) Wearing the same clothes, wearing the same expression...”  

Silent Majority, the first and most well known track of Keyakizaka. A rugged location, filled with an heavy atmosphere where girls in military outfits shout their opposition to a crooked society of hypocrite adults. This powerful message, needed the appropriate attitude to be conveyed accurately. Techi did better than that; she traded her feeble character and became an avatar of rebellion. Her grip exploding in strength, her stare you can’t escape from, and sharp moves made people forget she was only 14. Despite her discrete debut on Keyakitte, she turned out to be a formidable vessel to deliver the meaning of the song.

Was it thanks to an incredible amount of training? Sometime it’s about something else too. In Sekai ni wa Ai Shikanai, there was this particular shoot where the MV producer had to screen the girls at the Gymnasium, the choregraphy sequence in particular. While the girls started moving, Techi was remaining still, fixing her hands. “what is she doing?” he thought. Because she was supposed to move at the same time as the girls. And when asked, Techi said “i realized how grateful i was to be part of them, and wanted to picture it deep in my memories”. After consideration, the producer noticed that standing still when everyone else was moving, naturally created a focus on her. Also, her smile toward Yonetani nanami felt natural and expressed this very gratitude she talked about, making the scene soothing. He then decided to keep it.

If a song is bland and plain, to be cute or excellent in dancing won’t change anything. But when the song has the potential to be a tube, it’s important to choose someone who has the style/character that fits the song to release his full potential. Yurina has this particulary skill to “understand” a song. Listening the track over and over, feeling the emotion rushing in her mind, and finally embodying it. In Futari saison, each performance is different. Whenever she’s happy, and look at her comrades dearly, her dance will become lively. If she’s feeling down, her solo will have a tormented feeling on it.

“People often say they want to see the past me, but past is past, and all I can do now is now.”  -Hirate Yurina

There’s a theory that seeks to explain why Yurina did so well as Silent Majority center. An answer to where she draws all her bottomless energy. In a song that express anger, rebellion and freedom, the best way to convey those feelings is to actually have lived it in the past. This theory rose when fans noticed that during Yurina’s “jibun history” (my story) instead of taking pictures of her younger self or family, she’d prefered to talk about her favorite comedian duos. To incarnate “the girl in the train”, people speculated her past hid somber events that caused this emptiness within her. All in all, the reason why she fits so much in songs about pain and suffering is simply because she’s hurt as well. What makes her want to run forward so much, if not to run from a painful past?

The truth is, i was also fascinated by this theory. I wanted to know Techi’s past. However, i also realized that adhering to this theory was also comforting myself in what i wanted Techi to be : the girl from the train. But Techi is Techi, and the gloomy girl from the Yamanotesen and her are two different person. Hirate Yurina has this burning desire to change because deep inside her, she wants to live a fulfilling life. And by that, it means to live any kind of experience, to the fullest. Her way to apprehend a song is the same way she apprehend her life : She lives it and grows from it. The Yurina during the first Silent majority performance is not the same Yurina during Kouhaku utagassen. The yurina from the past is not the same Yurina as now.

And this is striking at how we also perceive idols. Fans knows : Stereotypes picture the idol genre as sub-music making money out of girl’s cuteness and innocence over delusional single middle aged japanese men. But the truth is, Idols are just the reflect of mankind : girls who want to find their way, who they are, through a bumpy road with many obstacles along the way. Instead of crying over their fate, they work for a way out. Even if there’s no guaranteed success, even if it’s painful, the girls show lot of courage and move forward. Yurina, with all her workload, opportunities, and newfound nakamas, embrace everything to grow and get stronger. This courage inspire me to do my best. Supporting her, is like supporting myself. By being courageous facing the future, she became a great idol. By being herself, she became a great individual being.  

“Backstage, Yurina is all lively and kiddy. But when the times come to perform, she switch on to Keyakizaka Ace. It gives me goosebumps” - Imaizumi Yui

Nadeshiko is an ancient japanese word for “loveable girl”. Glass canon is a gaming vocabulary that define someone with high attack/damage but weak defense. Yurina proved many times she had great mental resilience (able to perform 10 songs+ in ariake colosseum), although she also stated many times she doesn’t consider herself as “able” to perform as Keyakizaka unmovable center. A self criticism very severe, implying her power unleashed during performance lean on frailness of mind. She did thought of quitting, and with her young age, it can’t be helped to be inexperienced. A giant of paper, who risk of consuming itself if not able to manage his energy properly.

Center is a lonely place. Despite the light of the spotlight, the 0 position is actually a dark ceiling, where mistakes are prohibited, where there’s the most pressure. But I beg to differ, Keyakizaka is not all about Hirate Yurina. Those many hands bolstering her back, this warmth surrounding her, is what makes her keep going. Those experiences she mentioned earlier, are also meetings. Coming across her newfound nakamas changed her life. Moriya Akane with whom she can act like a spoiled child, Suzumoto Miyu with whom she can share her everyday life, and Nagahama Neru with whom she can confess her worries. Being around her friends, is also where Techi is in her most natural state. Her teammates put her at ease, as well as being fuel for doing her best.

Earlier we supposed Techi drew her energy from pain. My new theory, or faith, is that Techi draw her bottomless energy from gratitude. Even though she has been pro active to make things work, she always have this kind humility toward what the present brings to her, like american family who thanks God for the food. Doing her activities to the fullest, not wasting one bit of energy, is a way to express her gratitude toward the staff, her friends, and family. This is also Keyakizaka motto: humility, kindness, and bonds.

“She looks so serious and cool on Stage, but she did also pranked me when i was sleeping! And used a scooter in Handshake even though Staff forbid it! And...” - Suzumoto Miyu

There’s no “true” Yurina. No character, no fake attitude. The girl who entered Keyakizaka “in order to change”, like a diamond glass half-full, half-empty, has finally become whole by focusing on “becoming” instead of “being”. To follow Yurina, is like walking on a journey where each day is a surprise. Because we don’t know which Yurina will come up next. The 48group is about “Idols you can meet”. What if the secret motto is “idol you can see grow”? If that the case, Techi, from the very fiber of her being and will, incarnate those words.

A courageous girl, not naive but conscious, fragile but resolute, sometimes childish but always grateful. It isn’t this oversimplification where an Ace is a girl with perfect dance, singing or comical abilities. Techi has qualities and imperfection as well, but it’s how she faces it with a brave heart that makes her incredibly beautiful and interesting. All in all, her ability to absorb, convey, sublimate Keyakizaka46 songs justify her position of Ace. The potential of Yurina might look like exceptionnal, but is it really relevant, since what she’s only doing, is being herself? Maybe she just excels at... being human.

人間は面白い。

#Keyakizaka46 #欅坂46 #平手友梨奈 #hirate yurina #moriya akane #nagahama neru