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sxnyarostova · 11 months

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symbiosis

do i put this on ao3. anyways this is my velma/roxie fic i hope you enjoy i love them

Roxie Hart reckons that she’s going crazy. Consistently oscillating between this ingenious high and manic low, she never stays in either mood long enough to feel comfortable, to feel like she’s riding the wave of life. Touring’s hard work, something that takes a toll on both the mind and the body– Velma’s words, not hers–, but there’s typically no problem she can’t deal with when she’s got liquor on her hands.

A glass of gin and a splash of icy water on clammy cheeks usually calm her right down: the combination doesn’t help her very much anymore, though. She’s taken this remedy a little too many times, which explains her growing resistance to its calming properties. These days, the only thing that truly ties off the frayed ends of her psyche with a pretty little ribbon is, well… Velma.

Roxie doesn’t love her: it’s become a mantra over these past months spent ducking in and out of hotel after hotel and theatre after theatre. There’s the occasional pharmacist and gin joint as well, but that doesn’t count.

Instead of doing whatever love entails– because how the hell is Roxie supposed to know what love is when she’s never seen it in action?–, they kiss, they fuck, and Velma disappears somewhere between midnight and eleven in the morning, or at whatever ungodly hour Roxie wakes up after a night of debauchery. It’s an understanding they’ve reached, something as sure as the lacquered planks beneath her feet, an aspirin tablet swallowed dry that leaves an indent in her throat long after it's worked its magic. It is not love.

Roxie never did very well in school, but she’s making up for lost time. Touring means that she spends a lot of time in a train carriage with Velma, who smokes, drinks, stretches, and reads magazines: there isn’t exactly a way for Roxie to kindle a conversation when Velma gets all quiet like that, so she’d gotten her hands on a book about animal behaviour, of all things, from a dressing room somewhere in Illinois

It’s interesting, with little tidbits about interspecies relationships. Take predator-prey, for example; it’s one she’d known all about even before she cracked open the dusty tome. It’s kill or get killed in America, after all: a girl has gotta have learned something after she’s fended for herself in this cesspool of a country for this long.

But symbiosis is something she’s never heard of before, and she reckons after a brief skim of the chapter that Velma Kelly excels at whatever this professor is banging on about. Somehow, regardless of how the other is involved in her affairs, Velma Kelly always, always comes out on top; she’s the symbiote, the organism that gains something even if she’s leeching blood, leaving trails of her venom in somebody else’s blood, or spreading diseases left, right and centre.

It’s infuriating, but Roxie finds herself crawling back to Velma’s bed anyway. When you’re desperate for something to curb the restless ticks that haunt your head, you’ll do anything.

(She still remembers the panic that had risen in her throat after that first night, when she’d woken swaddled in sheets, sitting in the most fragrant viper’s nest known to man. Roxie had always known that she was going to spend her days scorching in hellfire– murder didn’t grant you a seat by Jesus– but she wasn’t ready to be indicted into the Devil’s inner circle. Surely there was something wrong and sinful about what she’d done with Velma the night before; surely there were scriptures in the Bible that forbade women from touching like that.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Velma had asked as Roxie scrambled for her robe, which lay in a crumpled heap of velvet on the hotel carpet. Despite her casual tone, an undercurrent of venom lazed beneath Velma’s words. “Were you faking those giggles last night, Roxie Hart? Are you considering leaving vaudeville and busting into Hollywood with your affected little squeals?”

“I– no!” Roxie mumbled, blindly throwing her arms through their respective sleeves. “I’m fine. I really am fine. Last night was… new, that’s all.” She blinked, brushed a flyaway curl back into place, and offered Velma a blinding smile.

“I thought new things didn’t scare you: always considered you a modern girl.” Velma raised an eyebrow as she stopped in front of the vanity, fingers deftly securing a double string of pearls around her neck. She fixed the clasp before latching her eyes onto Roxie’s ruddy complexion, her bob swishing by her ears like a beaded curtain. “I know what this is. You’re thinking about sinning, ain’t you?”

Roxie hated how Velma seemed to have her entire world and all its inhabitants figured out. Life was nothing but a jigsaw puzzle to Miss Velma Kelly, and every piece she put down always managed to lock into place. “...Well, don’t you ever think about sinning?” Roxie said, fiddling with the sash of her robe. “I don’t know how often you fuck blonde girls who you met in a jail cell, but—”

Velma guffawed. “I stopped repenting when I was twelve, sweetheart. The only compass I’ve got is my heart.” She gave her chest a gentle thump. “Whichever way it aims is where I’ll go, and if it’s pointing in your direction—” she threw her hands up as if to say ‘what the Hell’ “—then that’s where I’m headed ‘til it tells me otherwise.”

“Oh,” Roxie said, brows furrowing. “Well, I– I don’t know. I–”

“Did you enjoy it?”

Roxie nodded, platinum hair bouncing earnestly around her face.

“And did you feel like it was wrong when it happened?”

Despite the condescension in Velma’s tone, Roxie found it in her to respond, shaking her head no.

“I don’t see what the problem is, then,” Velma said, sitting primly atop the vanity. “You see, sex is a little like murder. If you felt justified when you did it, you don’t have to worry your pretty little head off about it.” She held up a flask, glinting silver in the noontime sun. “Care for a little pick-me-up?” )

Roxie wonders if Velma’s a drug of sorts or an exorcist with the blessing of some twisted God who likes helping murderesses stave off their guilty consciences. She’ll be tearing out her hair one moment and laughing the next: as soon as Velma’s teeth meet the lobe of her ear, the crowding voices that haunt Roxie’s head dissipate into nothing but malevolent spirits, melding into the atmosphere.

She sighs, pulling another cigarette from the open box in her robe pocket and slipping it into her mouth. Velma, Roxie muses, needs her for the success of their marquee-lining act: she needs Velma for all the wrong reasons. Roxie uncaps the lipstick on her bureau, gives the base a tiny twist, and begins absentmindedly applying another layer: she doesn’t know why she bothers. Her lips are plump and red enough, and Velma’s practised lips remove any traces left after a night of performing. It’s just therapeutic, she supposes, the feeling of wax sliding across her lips.

“You ready?”

The lipstick in her hand deviates from its trajectory and streaks across her face. “Jesus, Vel,” Roxie hisses, hastily rushing to a mirror and rubbing away the runaway line of red. “You ever learned to knock?”

“What difference would it make? I’d still come in regardless of your response,” Velma shrugs. She grins, pulls out a tissue from a nearby box, and passes it into Roxie’s waiting hands. She is striking in her costume, kitted out in a dark leotard with obsidian garters that blossom against her skin. “Well? Are you ready, kid?”

“Yeah,” Roxie grumbles. She gives her curls one last fluff, readjusts her own pearly pair of stockings, and tosses the tissue into the bin. “But– Velma? Before we go? Can you–?”

Her mind is running circles at the thought of performing. If she thinks long and hard about it, Roxie’s been a performer her whole life. She’s acted for her parents from the age of five and for her prospective beaus from the age of fifteen, doing the former out of fear and the latter out of a deep-seated desire for security. She’d acted when she was on trial, too, and frankly speaking, Roxie’s exhausted.

She needs someone to remind her that she’s Roxie Hart, and the only person who can do that is Velma, with her kisses and brass comments and the behavior that she only displays when she’s around Roxie. Velma Kelly is Roxie’s savior; the lighthouse in the distance, the shore that Roxie longs to find after hours spent in the water. This is symbiosis.

Velma pecks Roxie on the cheek without another word.

#yar #amity writes #chicago the musical #velma kelly #roxie hart #roxie x velma

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sorushing · 8 months

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HIIII SORUSH!!!!

would love to hear more about your httyd oc (if you want to share)!! maybe friendships, skills, likes/dislikes etc

(if not that’s totally cool!! have a nice day though!)

omg YES I‘d love to @lil-dragon-draws!

She‘s a mix of self-insert/oc at this point, because I thought that would be more fun :). She’s nameless for now though :(

so, she‘s as shepherd a bit like way the boys were doing in the HTTYD books (I think book 5? Not sure). She and her dragon make sure the sheep and deer (do they have deer in the movieverse?) are where they are supposed to be.

She isn’t originally from Berk, she washed ashore in a boat and no one knows where from. Most say the south, though, due to her looks. Not a Viking.

her job is to make sure the flocks are herded where they are supposed to be and help fend off predators, but she sometimes dozes off while on the job, which has her in lots of trouble.

her dragon would mainly make sure she isn’t dozing off and would also act as a shepherd’s dog and a way for her to quickly get around. She probably also has some smaller dragons, like terrible terrors, as an early warning system in case of wolves.

She didn’t think she’d ever have a dragon friend, since she‘s just a shepherd, but the Nadder found her flock one day and decided to hang around the sheep for…some reason. She decided to try and feed them and now they’re friends.

the terrors stuck around because lots of scritches and snacks for little work. I imagine they are quite food-motivated.

She has several fisher friends, as she was risen between several fishermen‘s families, whoever had the most food at the time would take her in when she was younger.

She can‘t fight very well, and mainly has a shield for defense and a slingshot. (Trust me you don’t want a sword in her hands. You really don’t.)

She is pretty good at making quick fixes to fences and other handiwork in a pinch, though.

she’s also found that Nadder spines make good impromptu knives when needed, and uses them for cutting rope or similar.

I also think she probably wouldn’t be all that close with the gang. They‘d know each other, and she’s probably spoken to Astrid/Fishlegs because of Nadder-related stuff, but no more than that, I think.

i might post some doodles later…

have a nice day too!

#Sorush‘s rambles #Httyd #oc #Kind of a self-insert #not sure how much though #Moots #Answered #ask #lil-dragon-draws

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semi-imaginary-place · 6 months

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FFXVI Rewrite Part 5: Origin, Ultima, and the Ending

With the last Mothercrystal destroyed and the final seal on Ultima broken, the apocalypse begins. The sky breaks apart into dark roiling aetheric stormclouds casting the world into eternal gloom. Aetherfloods spill across the lands poisoning all life and turning it akashic, the remaining crystals fail. There is no nation left standing in Valisthea. The one force that would have fought against Ulima’s rule Waloed is in disarray. The greatest champion fighting for free will was Banabas who is now dead. Congrats on making things worse! Isn’t free will and making choices great? The party much now scramble to figure out what is going on, all the while the realization of how badly they messed up slowly dawns upon them. Like in the actual game’s post Twinside section, the party scrambles to recover from the Waloed attack while also fending off compounding problems of starved beasts, Fallen machines, akasha, and wraiths. Now though Origin has also risen into the sky destroying all hopes of salvaging Twinside. The party travels around Valisthea piecing together the deteriorating situation with the destruction of the Mothercrystals and wonders if this is what Ultima wanted since they stopped bothering them several Mothercrystals back. Doomsday cultists start popping up. In particular will be the savior cult the Circle of Malius who are much the same as the are in the actual game striving to make all people akashic as they see it as the ultimate pure state free of mortal burdens. This formerly suppressed underground faction now runs free now that Barnabas is gone.

I really do like most of the sidequest storylines especially Dion and Harpocrates’ quest, however a complaint I had was that their placement right before the final boss dropped the pacing off a cliff. In this rewrite the last section is being expanded so there is time added here for Clive to rally people and finish their storylines so that the finale can be uninterrupted. This includes the final part of Jill’s character arc where she reckons that for all that she has talked big and tried to help people, she herself still does not quite know what it means to live on her own terms, but she thinks she is finally starting to understand. Jill wants to travel the world, to help the people out there who don’t know how to fight for themselves yet and to find herself. In the actual game the Jill-Clive romance is primarily hindered by Jill’s poor writing having tried to fix her writing here I have no objections to the romance anymore. However, I was never a fan of romances and am of the mentality of that if it isn’t needed it shouldn’t be included. For example, in Tales of Arise the relationship between Alphen and Shionne is the center point around which the rest of the story revolves and while it could have been a friendship instead of a romantic one, there is no Tales of Arise without Shionne and Alphen’s relationship. This is not the case for FFXVI, even in this rewrite Jill is not the deuteragonist (if anyone it’d be Joshua), as such Jill and Clive’s relationship is not central to the story and really while I’m not opposed, I feel a romance just gets in the way of the story, if there’s to be any romance I would rather it just be implied or optional. Dion and Terrance should still kiss because that is bold and revolutionary in a way the portrayal of any straight couple isn’t, also they’re side characters so it doesn’t matter this story isn’t about them. Before the final dungeon is also the time to show how life without magic sucks. FFXVI sort of glosses over this very briefly but I think this point should be integrated into all the final storylines, without magic people have no safe drinking water or fire, disease begins running rampant, industry grinds to a halt, and food production halts so people begin starving in the streets in mass, and Clive has to see all this knowing this is what he’s done to people.

The party eventually learns of Ultima’s plans to destroy the world and enslave humanity by flooding them with aether and turning every living thing akashic. At the same time, they record increased aether concentrations gathering around Origin, as the Blights worsen as Ultima repurposes the same draining mechanisms as the Mothercrystals, He turns the very chains that bound them into his servants. Instead of loredumping via a ten minute monologue at the end of the game, now would be a good place to drop bits of lore and worldbuilding like how in this version dragons, frostwolves, and such were the original inhabitants of the world. Ultima is the last surviving active member of the Fallen whose ancient civilization made all the ruins encountered across the game. Ultima and the Fallen brought humans to Valisthea and created eikons by enslaving the power of the land’s original inhabitants. Eikons are a phenomena of the recent centuries and a sign that the seals were weakening.

As a lover of JRPGs I found it immensely disappointing that Origin was just some cutscenes and not a full dungeon so I’m making it a full dungeon in this rewrite. Ultima is trying to draw in Clive and possess him anyways (as well as the combined Ifit-Phoenix fire eikon) so they would try and cut off the rest of the party. Dion is able to break a hole in Origin that Clive enters into with Joshua, however Jill is cutoff, and under constant assault she seals the hole after them to stop pursuit. In addition, the Fallen forces are marching from Origin to turn every person akashic and Dion and Jill are needed to hold them back. As such Dion and Jill as the two that can fly stay outside to stop pursuit of Joshua and Clive, as well as to try and contain Ultima’s forces from murdering and or turning everyone on the continent into akasha. This would be a nice scene to show all the factions of Valisthea that Clive has met and negotiated with coming together to ward off extermination. Like the Trinity Accord can actually be something meaningful as a defense accord rallying humanity’s last remnants. Origin will be a classic final dungeon boss gauntlet with no way to exit until the player beats the game. Every set of floors (5? 10?) will be a boss as Ultima seeks to weaken Clive.

During the ascent to the top or Origin the final secrets of the game are revealed and the lore scattered throughout the game brought together. To reiterate, the Fallen drained the resources of their homeland and turned it into a wasteland, their civilization collapsed and the survivors fled upon the mothership Origin to a new world. Coming to Valisthea, they came into contact with the native lifeforms such as the dragons and began a war of conquest for control over Valisthea. The Fallen made eikons out of draconic aether to use as war weapons against the dragons themselves thus why eikons are elemental themed. Eventually the Fallen with their eikons and advanced technology kill most of the dragons but not before most of them were killed as well. As a last resort the last remaining dragons sacrificed themselves to seal the last Fallen away the Eldest Wyrm’s body fragments, becoming the Mothercrystals. The Mothercrystals much like dragons themselves have a strong connection to the aether of the land and while not ideal, a side effect of the Mothercrystals is that they feed off of the land’s aether to power their seals. Because this was a last ditch effort it’s full of problems including that the seals take an unsustainable amount of aether and after the land is drained of aether the seals begin to fail. Mining and using crystals sped up the breaking of the seals as well as the spread of the deadlands as the Mothercrystals drained the lands to fuel the seals. Ultima is the last active Fallen who awakened as the seals weakened. The reawakening did not go as he hoped as the other Fallen only remained as aether. Ultima seeks to flood all of humanity with Fallen aether made of his people’s souls to truly reincarnate them, replacing the original aether of the world with Fallen aether. Origin now acts as the focal point amassing aether and releasing Ultima’s forces.

At the top floor of Origin Clive and Joshua find not only Ultima but Anabella and Olivier. Anabella and Olivier transport to Ultima’s eden space ship which is revealed to be the red star Metia; Origin acts as the connecting point between Valisthea and Metia. Ultima reveals that the Fallen are the true humans of this setting. The original humans created soulless shell or dolls for them to later fill with their own aether, reincarnate, and thus save their civilization. All the characters the player has met were these husks created by the true humans, the people of Valisthea were never meant to be people on their own with wills and thoughts. Similarly, Mythos like in the actual game was the chosen vessel for Ultima to fill with the eikons, ascend to godhood, and power the casting. But like most plans, things have gone wrong and now created fights Creator. Ultima tells Clive and Joshua that they and their brethren were only ever imposters wrongfully claiming the title of humanity their masters: the true humans. As creations of humans, they belong to humans, their wills exist only as an extension of the true humans’ wills. “In Ultima's eyes, mankind's greatest sin is the awakening of free will—his servants straying from the path their creator laid out for them and forging one of their own. However, Clive contends that this is a sin by which Ultima is equally stained—and indeed, if humanity is indeed Ultima's creation, does not their every action, every emotion stem from him?” (Mysteries of the Realm: Sin).

Clive and Joshua face Ultima in his Ultimalius form as in actual FFXVI for stage 1 of the final boss fight. After beating Ultimalius, Ultima transforms Stage 2 is a giant kaiju eikon battle is space. Like in the Bahamut fight, Ifrit and Phoenix combine, however where Ifrit Prime was an incomplete fusion, this time the fusion is in full and the true Eikon of Fire emerges: Adonaios v2.11 (other possible names are Sabaoth and Belias). Ultima uses the beta testing version Adonaios v1.8; 1.8 comes from the incorporation of all 8 elements plus Ultima, 2.11 comes from Adonaios having to be split into two but left unfinished by Ultima for Clive to collect the remaining eikons. In game Ifrit Prime just looked like the Ifrit model with 2 feathers glued on, Adonaios v2.11meanwhile looks like a 50:50 fusion a molten red eikon with wings, horns, a feathered tail, and a jagged beak. Adonaios is slimmer than Ifrit but overall bigger with the feathers. Adonaios v1.8 meanwhile looks like the figure on the murals, a fusion of all 8 eikons and elements however it is falling apart at the seams even as Ultima fights with it because it’s an abandoned draft version. Late in the stage 2 fight Clive and Joshua are losing and draw upon the remaining power of the eikons of whom only Bahamut and Shiva are left. This drains the remaining eikonic power from Jill and Dion, grounding them and making the Valisthea fight hopeless, the Ultima fight now all or nothing. Stage 3 of the final boss fight takes place aboard Metia. Metia was an alien spaceship all along, but more accurately it is a control satellite from which to coordinate the revival of humanity. Clive, Joshua, and Ultima have all mostly used up all their power in the previous stage. In this final stage of the fight Ultima transcends and returns to his original appearance that of a human, Clive and Joshua are no longer fighting some strange monster but someone they would recognize as human. In stage 3 Clive cannot semi-prime. In the end Ultima is killed and his species is now extinct.

Joshua and Clive are exhausted from climbing Origin as well as the consecutive boss fights but begin to relax with Ultima dead, and then Anabella steps out. Anabella thought she could outplay Ultima by siding with him and then taking over, and now she sees her chance. She steals all the power that Ultima had been siphoning into himself to cast the spell, and redirects it all into Olivier to turn Olivier into a god and who will rule the world, doing what Ultima failed to do. It fails because playing god is a bad idea, Olivier’s body cannot handle the power and it begins mutating him into a deformed humanoid abomination with multiple arms and eyes, bodies seemingly trying to grow out of him. So, the true final boss is mercy killing a child who is falling apart and turning into an abomination but doesn't know it, as he cries that it hurts and begs you to stop. Olivier cannot be allowed to live as they will destroy the world. and the aether is warping his mind and he becomes less coherent as the fight goes on, regressing from full sentences to just screams. Ascended Olivier doesn’t really fight back, he flails around and lashes out when attacked but attacks aren’t particularly aimed at the player and he’s mostly crying and shaking on the ground in pain. Ascended Olivier has a very large health bar and the story will not progress until he is killed, the last save point is before reaching the top floor or Origin. In a game full of epic boss battle, the last is anticlimactic by design, there is no epic music just silence, there is no challenging gameplay, only attacking a child. The gameplay is boring, its grueling, and that’s the point. Clive kills Olivier and then there’s just Anabella.

Much like the Fallen were the creators of modern humans who sought to control their creations and saw them as an extension of themselves, creations that deviated and refused to submit to their will and thus were failures. So too is Anabella a controlling creator who deemed her children failures for not advancing her goals, hating and discarding them to try again with a new child. Olivier was supposed to be her ultimate creation, perfect and subservient to her with no will of his own. The parallels between Anabella and Ultima exist in the actual game so it was disappointing her role ended so early and nothing was done with this parallel. Here is this rewrite, the large-scale destruction of the world by Ultima is paralleled with the destroyed Rosfield family and this final confrontation with Anabella. Anabella is not a warrior, without her soldiers and pawns she doesn’t have and martial power, she is more or less powerless to her fate at this point having discarded all her cards and bet everything Olivier. Clive (and the player) are then given the choice to “do nothing”, “kill”, or “spare” Anabella, Clive after all was the one who suffered the most from her. If “kill” is chosen, then Clive kills Anabella. If “spare” is chosen, Clive walks away but not before Joshua steps in and kills Anabella because even if Clive can forgive her Joshua can’t. If “do nothing” is chosen Anabella kills herself unable to reconcile with a reality in which she has lost.

Clive and Joshua use the last embers of the eikonic power remaining to shut down Primogenesis and Ultima’s plans, landing the Metia at the base of the crumbling Origin. The closing shot is of gang standing together overseeing a ruined Valisthea as the camera pans showing the aether storm clearing, wraiths evaporating, and fallen machines deactivating permanently. The deadlands are still around but a new sprout is seen growing. The credits sequence plays over a scene of Mid yelling to hurry it up she wants to see stoves and water purifiers in every village by the end of the month, shots of people is Valisthea figuring out how to live without magic using technology and innovation, the main characters are seen helping repair efforts. The end card says 4 years, meaning FFXVI takes place over a total of 16 years, from the beginning of the game and Phoenix Gate to the end of the game and Origin. Sun light is streaming through a window as Clive writes in a book which he closes to the title “Final Fantasy XVI by Joshua and Clive Rosfield”. As the timeline is changed here so that Clive is younger for the duration of the game than he is in the real game, his older model can be used here. Clive is using his non-dominant hand here as his dominant hand has been partially petrified from his fight with Ultima. On the desk is a photo of Clive and a bedridden Joshua.

The game’s themes could have been better integrated into the final section of the game. If FFXIV wanted to tell a story about choice, then they should have made Clives’ choices have weight and consequence. If he wants a society free of the Mothercrystals then the game should have showed how he ruined the lives of many many people by destroying them. FFXVI would have benefited greatly from more moral dilemmas like that. There should have also been exploration of the concepts of creation, ownership, makers, what makes someone human. One missed opportunity was not bringing up the relationship between art and artist, is art an extension of the artist or its own thing. The references to Gnosticism were fine but the concepts could have been clearer. There are also just a truckload of small problems and inconsistencies in the game like how Charon is said at one point to have a wide variety of customers across the continent while at another point is said on exclusively trade to the Hideaway. There’s a sidequest about how Murdoch’s nephew joins the Hideaway because he admires Clive and then the game forgets about him (just like they forget about Jill) and only remembers him again to put him on a bus, thus having no interaction with Clive. A lot of worldbuilding is just badly done. I love mysteries but making things misleading and obscure for no reason is not how to do it. So much of it was unclear or convoluted or just pointless even after reading the completed The Thousand Tomes that I just threw the whole thing out and wrote new lore for this reimaging of FFXVI. If a change is not specified than it is the same as in the actual game. I wrote 85% of this in Jun-Jul of 2023, then stopped for lack of motivation. I only finished this for the sake of finishing it because I don’t care anymore. I’m done with FFXVI and it’s poor writing.

It says something that it ended up being easier to throw out the later 1/3 of the game. In earlier drafts I did originally try to make canon work like Barnabas being one of Ultima’s devout and purifying Waloed by turning it all akashic, or Joshua’s probable death at the end of the game. Like it would have made more sense for Barnabas and Ultima as they are portrayed in the actual game to methodically hunt down and kill every person or named NPC Clive has ever talked to, slowly isolating him from his humanity by breaking every connection he’s ever tried to make. But of course, this removes the cast from having a role in the rest of the game and makes it impossible to keep the rest of the game the same. This rewrite ended up being pretty happy and optimistic because that’s the spirit of the original game. FFXVI in the end is pretty optimistic, which I have mixed feelings about. FFXVI tries have an upbeat uplifting ending and message while also wanting to be a dark, gritty, edgy Game of Thrones knockoff, and while this is very possible for a work to do, FFXVI did not succeed in meshing these aspects into a consistent whole, XVI ends up feeling inconsistent or disjointed. So while I did eventually decide to uphold XVI’s optimistic spirit I did consider another possibility leaning into more of the darker ambience. With the rising of Origin and fight to climb the tower, every major character either is killed or sacrifices themselves for Clive to reach the summit. The Cursebreakers buy time of the ground with their lives, Dion finally gets the absolution of death he has been seeking for Sanbreque, Jill joins Clive and Joshua in the tower but sacrifices herself to hold back the tower bosses and all of Ultima’s forces chasing them up the tower. During the second stage of the final Ultima fight to turn Ifrit Prime into Adonaios v2.11 and truly fuse Phoenix and Ifrit, Joshua who is already dying burns himself away allowing Clive to have all of Phoenix’s power. Clive thus kills Olivier alone, and faces Anabella alone, his fate left ambiguous.

Read this in one long post

Read this in parts: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5 .

#ffxvi #ff16 #final fantasy xvi #final fantasy 16 #anabella rosfield #ffxvi ultima

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missmoondalorian · 6 months

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Chapter One - The Slavers

You feel your way around in the dark, reaching for the doorknob. It turns and the door creaks open. You rush to your younger sister's bedside.

"Shh." You cover her mouth, " put on your shoes, we must leave, NOW." You whisper before shuffling over to your bed, and slide out a small, already packed, trunk from underneath it.

Sisni rubs her eyes and mumbles sleepily "It's not even light yet, where are we going?"

"The Slavers are here. I heard them dock a few minutes ago, which means we have less than an hour before they start raiding." You respond in a rushed whisper.

You still have nightmares about when they took your parents. You watched your mother being wrenched from your fathers arms, as you screamed in the doorway. They had both been taken to the auction post, but were sold separately. Seeing as your sister was too young to be of use to anyone, those bastards left you and her to fend for yourselves. After all, in order to raise the next generation of slaves a few girls needed to be left behind to care for them...

Though now, she is too old, and they would certainly take both of you to be sold as wives, or worse, sacrificed to the Darkness.

In one hand you hold the trunk handle, and with the other you take her hand, and slip out the back door.

The caves you plan to hide in are a good distance away, and in the dark the path will be difficult, but you have both rehearsed this trek several times.

"You remember what to do in case we get separated?"

"Yes." She responds quietly. "Stay hidden, don't go back home."

"Good."

You take a chance to look back as you notice the sky lightening. You can make out the flames from their torches, and the sounds of them kicking down doors, screams, as families continue to be torn apart.

You feel like a shitty person for leaving others behind, and wish you could have helped, but your only benefit is that it was just the two of you in the house. Your small town on the Lone Islands has overwhelmingly become an "every man for himself" type of community since the Slavers took back over.

By the time the sun had risen you and Sis had reached the caves, though finding one big enough where you didn't have to crawl on all fours was becoming a challenge.

Exasperated, you stop and kneel down to her level. "I might have to hide you in one of these on your own, and find another place to hide myself. I don't think I can fit in any of these with you."

She panicked, "No! You can't! We can fit if we just..."

"We have to be realistic. We might be in hiding for a while, sometimes those assholes stay for days."

"You can't leave me!" She begins to cry.

"I'm not leaving you, I'm just hiding you here for now, so I can find a better place for both of us. Then I'll come back and get you, ok?"

She nods, tears cleaning small streaks off her dirt covered face, "Don't take too long."

"I'll try not to," You smile at her, and motion to a very small opening to your left. "Stay in here, with the trunk. It looks like it goes in pretty deep and they won't be able to go very far in before getting stuck."

You wait until you see her feet disappear into the darkness of the cave before taking off, further into the hills. This was the last thing you wanted, but she will be safer in a smaller cave, anything big enough for both of you would be big enough for them to get into as well. This also allows you to be able to lead them further away from her if you need to.

Eventually, you find another hiding place, with a decent view of the village below. "This is good, I can see them coming, and I can see the shoreline." You tell yourself. "When they ship off we can go back home."

And then you wait.

And wait...

* * *

The sun is high in the sky before you peek back out. Their boats are still out there, and you notice another small boat coming towards the docks. "That's weird. They don't usually arrive in two parties." You think aloud. They must be taking a lot of people back with them this time.

You watch the boat dock, and only a few figures disembark. The rest stay on the boat, or on the dock. You can make out four figures making their way up the steps into the village. For a second you consider going to check on Sis, but you think better of it. "She knows to stay hidden, and she has all the provisions she needs." You assure yourself before going back into your hiding place.

You guess an hour passes before you hear a commotion down in the village. But not the screams of villagers, shouting yes, but excited, encouraging, and the clanging of swords. You look back out, to see if you can make anything out, but whatever is happening is in the town square, which is blocked by all the buildings. You hear cheering, and then notice a swarm of figures running towards the docks. Flinging themselves into boats, while a second swarm is chasing them? This can't be right. Who is chasing who? Are some of the villagers trying to escape? After a few minutes all you can hear is the roar of cheering voices. You have to go see what the hell is going on...

You make your way back down to Sis' little cave, and poke your head in, "Hey, it's me."

You can hear shuffling coming towards you. "Did you hear all that? What's going on?" Her head emerges.

"Stay in there" you warn, "I don't know, I couldn't make anything out but I'm going to sneak back down to try and find out. I've never heard anything like that before during an auction."

"Oh... can't I come too?"

"No. If it's safe I'll come back and get you."

She retreats back into the darkness, and you make your way back down the hill, keeping an eye and ear out for anyone coming up.

As you make it to the outskirts of the village, the celebrating gets louder. This is way too much for any auction the traders would be organizing. You hide behind buildings as you get further into the village, but the further in you get, the more people you notice freely walking around, talking excitedly and you can hear "King," and "savior" in conversations. You recognize them as other villagers. The next person who walks by, you stop them cautiously and ask for an explanation.

"Where have you been hiding?! King Caspian saved us all! He and his crew scared the Slavers off for good!" They exclaimed.

"King Caspian? I had thought the Narnians had forgotten all about the Lone Islands years ago... " You began to question.

"Apparently not, lass! His majesty even promised to leave some of his guards behind to make sure the traders never return!"

This is unbelievable. Too good to be true! You rush back to the hills to find Sis and tell her the good news.

"Who is King Caspian?" She asks. She was too young to have heard the stories of Narnia and its Kings and Queens when they were still relevant. You, however, remembered a time when the Lone Islands were safely under Narnias rule. You never bothered to tell her the stories...that was just not the reality she had known. So, as you both make your way back home, you relay as many stories as you can remember.

"I don't know much about King Caspian, but Mother and Father told me he was the one who put Lord Bern in charge, but even he was before your time. I remember the islands were much better with him in charge. Before he disappeared."

You remembered that day very well. The whole town was panicking as a menacing black smoke was seen drifting towards the islands, and the Lord was nowhere to be found. Not long after the slavers invaded, and that was the end of your childhood...

"So where has he been this whole time?" Sis asks you. "If he was such a great king, why would he leave us to the Slavers?"

You felt a twinge of resentment.

"I... don't know." You admit. "I suppose he thought we were in good hands. I can't imagine Lord Bern managed to get any word out before he was captured..."

"What makes him think we will be any safer this time?" She questions.

You look around as you walk back towards your house. You notice a good handful of guards in Narnian armor, ranging in species from men to fauns.

"They'll be ready for trouble this time, I expect." You point out that they all have weapons. "Last time, no one thought anyone would dare to challenge a Narnain king."

A minotaur guard makes eye contact with you as he passes, and gives you a nod. Sis stares up at him and without realizing states "he's so big!"

He turns around and chuckles, comes back towards you two and kneels down to her level.

"What is your name little one?" He asks.

"Si...Sisni" She stammers.

"Sorry Sir," you apologize, "we've never seen a minotaur in person."

"No apology necessary miss" he stands back up, and bows to you "Sir Tavros at your service."

"Are you really going to stay to protect us from the Slavers?" Sis asks him.

"Yes, as a knight of Narnia is it my duty, and my privilege, to keep you safe little Sisni."

"You can call me Sis" She smiles at him.

You prod her, "Sir..." you correct.

He chuckles again. "And you two can call me Tavros, anything you need, just find me."

You curtesy, "Thank you Sir..uh.. Tavros, and all of you for freeing us." You are so not used to practicing your manners... "Is his majesty still on the island?"

"No, I'm afraid not. He is on a quest to free this world from the Darkness, and wasted no time in continuing on. I would expect him to return on this way back to Narnia though, he will want a full report on the situation here."

"I hope to get to see him on his second trip!" Sis exclaimed loudly.

Sir Tavros smiled, "I'm sure he would love to meet you, precious one."

"Oh Sis," you laughed nervously "he's going to be way too busy to meet everyone in the village."

"On the contrary miss, his majesty enjoys meeting his subjects very much!" Tavros laughed. "I'll be sure to inform you personally of his return."

He bowed. "If you ladies would please excuse me, I must complete my patrol. It was an absolute pleasure to meet you both."

"Goodbye Sir Tavros!" Sis tried to curtesy, but it came off as more of a squat.

You managed a passable one as you smiled and said goodbye.

"I wonder what he's like?" Sis asked out loud as you reached your house, which was in shambles.

"The King?" You asked, beginning to pick up the few pieces of furniture that had been overturned while the Slavers were searching the house.

"Mhm. Looking to defeat the darkness...that's so scary...

Do you think Mother and Father ever got to meet him? "

" Hmm. It's possible. I know he was the first one to come to these islands in years back then. The only reason they opened the inn here in the first place was because he chased off the Slavers the first time.

Did you know there was a time when we could go swimming in the ocean?..."

You begin to tell her all the stories you could remember from before the Slavers...before the Darkness...before the Lone Islands became a horrible place to live...

"Maybe it will be like that again?" She hoped.

"Maybe..." you entertain her, but secretly, you don't believe that King Caspian would even bother coming back to your hovel of a town. You were still grappling with the surprise that a man his age could still fight.

#booktok #caspian #ben barnes #fanfic #narnia #adventure #romance #smut #fantasy

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nobuverse · 8 months

Text

v; Genshin ( Okita )

Origin: Inazuma

Vision: Anemo

Main Weapon: Sword

Elemental Skill: Okita harnesses the power of Anemo mainly to help her amplify her speed - and she can concentrate that into bursts of furious dashes. She can traverse short distances in the blink of an eye, allowing for both repositioning in the field and the ability to take a few piercing strikes of anemo damage before the other can react.

Elementa Burst: How much control Okita has entering her most powerful state is arguable. It comes not in a technique, but in a fever pitch of emotion or a hardened sense of determination. Sometimes, it come easily, other times, not until things become desperate.

Harnessing all of her energy allows her to push past her normal human limits in performance; making her usual short bursts of movement become a constant state. In comparison, everything around her moves slowly. Her speed and accuracy becomes truly deadly. In a matter of a less than a second, she can hit as many as three points simultaneously.

As for how long this state can last, it goes as far as she can push her body. Entering it will quickly drain her energy and put an extreme strain on her already frail body. It could be a minute, or just a a matter of a few seconds before she collapses in the battlefield.

Background

Content Warning for Death.

She can remember the trembling earth. The loud eruption of stones piercing from the earth like the teeth of an angry monster. Her parents screams. She can still clearly remember the things she wasn't allowed to talk about.

It wasn't a murder. It was an earthquake. Saying anything to the contrary would put her sisters lives in danger. The terrified child did not dare to argue with him; this member of a ruling clan who had come to discuss troop management with her father.

Arrangements were then made to separate the three siblings, each fading into a different aspect of society within Inazuma. For Okita, her home became the dojo.

Training became her life, her only focus to help her move forward. Despite being plagued with ill health throughout her growing years, she rapidly became recognized as one of Inazuma's most promising warriors in training. She became the obvious choice when it came to creating a task force to revoke visions during the decree which declared it outlawed.

Even without a vision herself, Okita was a formidable opponent to face. Used to battling illnesses for most of her life, she did not succumb to pain or fatigue. She had no issue taking the very same powers that had killed her parents away from Inazuma's citizens at first. Tears and pleas of would-be killers did not phase her.

Later, a semblance of guilt starts to build within her. She does not regret taking away such powers, but she does begin to see the effect which it has on people. Losing their memories. Their will to live. Passions and connections formed over a lifetime reduced to dust as she took away pieces of their soul.

One day, she's confronted with a horrid reality: the task of having to take a vision away from a child. Not just one, in fact, but a group of runaway children desperate to escape their fate.

Sword at their leader's throat, she remembers looking into that child's eyes clearly: rebellion and desperation represented in equal measure. While one hand held her katana, while the other wrestled and clawed at with the teenager's right. Insanely, the girl is more desperate to hold onto the vision in palm than keeping her neck away from Okita's sword.

I won't forget him! You won't make me forget my brother!

The enforcer stops struggling. Getting up, letting her go. All her doubts about her mission have risen to the surface in that moment. It's solidified, proven, when the girl looks back at her once again in confusion.

"Go. I'll fend them off."

The freedom of choice. To change. To fight against injustice. This materializes the gem of her vision at her hilt of her sword.

She now lives with both sides as her enemy. She is the prized soldier of the Tenryou commission gone rouge; and one of the most feared enforcers by the common people.

#y'all did vote very strongly of anemo and cant say i disagree #the hard part was honestly figuring out what bit of her backstory resonated #with the idea of freedom #because i like connecting elements with their archon theme for these things #also yes look at that everything loops together with her and the oda siblings WOO #and im not going over every detail in the backstory bc it's basically the same as her normal mortal life #cherry blossom saber [ okita ]#v; Genshin

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multistoty · 1 year

Text

Continued

Today was the day a thousand dreams would die and a single dream would be born.The wind knew. It was the first of June, but cold gusts bit at the hilltop citadelle as fiercely as deepest winter, shaking the windows with curses and winding through drafty halls with warning whispers. There was no escaping what was to come.true strength comes from being willing to fail in order to progress. The truths of the world wish to be known, but they won’t force themselves upon you the way lies will. They’ll court you, whisper to you, play behind your eyelids, slip inside and warm your blood, dance along your spine and caress your neck until your flesh rises in bumps. Truth is as free as the air and we all have the right to breathe as deeply of it as we wish. It cannot be held back in the palm of any one man. It was why the magic in this place worked with belief. For one’s beliefs could contradict that of fact without losing their power. No one but the people’s princess herself was allowed to decide when Isolde was going to die.It doesn't always take an army to save the world. Sometimes it takes just one person who won't let evil win. In this case, there were two. They saw what evil looked like, and they knew we wanted to be different. Kieran may think someone who cares about those who are small and vulnerable would be the pawn alone. If he wanted to play this game, he had already lost his queen.

Isolde had to hand it to him when it came to the invention that this was a kidnapping. Especially if a guard her new companion so clearly cared for would bring her to heel for a king that would mistake his kindness. Would drive the knife further. Normally, the onyz haired girl would never let anyone know the dagger she carried. A weapon that could kill as well as throw any opponet five feet apart from it’s owner. Usually, the magic helped to throw them against something. Her mother’s magic had always come from feelings. The blades had ornate designs,but she gave parts of herself in each bit of pounded metal. Her father had teased before about what such a magically gifted figure specializing in weapons had work for in the cold peace. That was what they had always called it behind closed doors. It could feel like there were two Kandala’s. The prejudicial old world who took strength in believing themselves pure and better. And the people who rightfully were used to being forgotten. The tension had risen before the plague had come. The princes had worked out a deal for medicine. Her people needed her to give her heart away so soon after Lord Aiden had lost himself in battle. No one had found the body of the first and only man she had loved. What horrific irony that her husband’s blood filled the altar. She could only image a rage filled murderer losing his only witness and his pretty flower. Even the most delicate roses had their thorns. Years of peace had scaled back a lot of the security measures in Kandala. Yet, her father knew better than to send his only heir out without protections. The guards had become like brothers to her. They had taught her enough to fend for a bit. To allow running. One of her mother’s last forge pieces was the dagger that laid close to her chest while the other was secret eater who was no doubt being hunted out by Kieran for whatever macabre plans he had left. Yet,hope was hugging her, holding her in its arms, wiping away her tears and telling her that today and tomorrow and two days from now she will be just fine and she was so delirious that she actually dared to believe it. Yet….. why was this woman so knowledgeable and keen on protecting her? She didn’t seem the type for fanciful words in court speak. No. A kind though begrudging figure who had woven her dreams and nightmares with the princesses own. The voice and steps told her that she was coming close. The heels of the girl were a sound she could zero in on anywhere after years being sated by the court politics and parties. The leaves would crunch much louder under that guard’s feet. It also was beyond thought that a man so heavily dressed would not go to the stables nearby before chasing them into the dark forest. A real line of wether or not his allegiance were to the handsome usurper king. They had said such awful things of her. She had been planning her married court debut dress and now someone was being chased wanted for murder and kidnapping from saving her. There were secrets going on that she would need to get answers for, but the hum underneath her skin said this was the one to trust. It was part of why she had relented even slightly when the girl had practically dragged her out of there. The running halted slightly as the girl showed up and spoke. The forest was dangerous, but that cold water spoke of something more. She had waded in the lake a few times,but that wasn’t the same. Her court instincts wanted to go to work on them both between her updo hanging at all angles and blood soaked girl. A ballgown would seriously way them down. The princess was tapping her foot in nervous thought. There wasn’t much time. Now she had the dagger back in her possession and had already freed some fabric. With a wince, she reached to tear the beautiful fabric to middle thigh. Still modest and capable of warmth while being less of an impediment. Maybe they should swim for it would give them chances to free them of characteristics. The markings on her back could be hidden enough, but the runes decorating her chest would be a red flag without a cloak. “I- I can try my best. Can we trust your friend to not report were we went? Knowledge for them is power. Here, let me at your dress. It will help us be better at cutting through water quickly and stop from weighing down as much with everything that lurks around here. Dying before our mastermind came would seriously be a bummer for us and our people.”

@everguiltridden

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xhanisai · 2 years

Text

AU where Ladybug and Chat Noir is an actual ladybird and black kitten in their civilian lives but human when transformed as heroes

- The duo always wished to be human ever since they were born. The stray black kitten born during the moonlight and left to fend for himself and the lonesome ladybird hatching the following daylight.

- They were always entranced by the way humans interacts, the way humans create and the love that humans can have for each other.

- The two have never met yet but would roam Paris, avoiding getting hurt or killed and trying to have an adventure. Those days would end with them realising how alone they were in the scary world.

- On the day Le Papillon has risen, an old man (Maître Fu) gives the lonely black kitten the ring of destruction and the curious ladybird the earrings of creations (after swiftly catching them both so they can all be in one space).

- Just by touching the jewels themselves, the kitten and ladybird suddenly found themselves transforming into humans! But, they both donned a mask and a super suit. They called themselves Ladybug and Chat Noir.

- Fu informed them that they needed to fight the akuma and save not only the victim trapped by the corrupted butterfly, but also the city.

- The pair, eager to help out the man who practically granted their wish, immediately got to work. It took a lot of getting used to because not only were they in a human body, they had powers too.

- Just like their canon counterparts, Chat Noir is flirty, dramatic yet loyal and brave and Ladybug is smart, slightly flirty back yet determined and resilient.

- They manage to succeed the mission and they simultaneously fell in love with each other. However, as soon as their miraculous beeped to zero, they transformed back into a kitten and ladybird again.

- This time however, they are accompanied by Plagg and Tikki who can magically store their miraculous safely and transform them when needed. The kitten and ladybird decide to stick together.

- Plagg names the kitten Adrien and Tikki names the ladybird Marinette.

- Marinette loves it when Adrien sprints off into a run with her clinging onto his fur, going faster than she’s ever dreamed of. Adrien loves watching her fly, sometimes trying to playfully catch her.

- Despite being so in love with each other, Ladybug tells Chat that they can’t be together. The reason being:

“Chaton, if I agree to be with you, it would be so unfair for you afterwards.”

“Why? Why would it be so unfair??”

“Because ladybirds can live up to only a year...and you’ll be left heartbroken once I’m gone if we become more than what we are,”

- They share a heart-breaking, bittersweet kiss.

- The time limit is what pushes them both to fight harder and find Le Papillon because Chat Noir refuses to fight with another Ladybug. Though, his Lady starts to become physically weaker day by day towards the end of the year.

- As soon as they finally defeat Le Papillon, there’s a huge light that encases the area.

- Marinette and Adrien wake up on the ground, the former expecting to be dead...only to realise

They’re both alive AND humans without wearing the miraculous.

- They stare at each others’ face with awe, carefully stroking each others’ face now knowing what it looks like without a mask until finally they start giggling.

- The giggles turn into tears of joy and they embrace each other with all their might, the kwamis joining in and then Adrien pulls Marinette in for a sweet, sweet kiss.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug and chat noir #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #chat noir #ladybug #ladynoir #adrinette #not human AU #my au #my art #this is all just an excuse to draw chat noir as a cat #lol

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heliads · 2 years

Note

TW imagine you are Scott sister and he explaines things to Malia while there in your room and Scott notices your Diary journals on your desk and he reads them and finds odd cards to the pack from you because they always for get you even on your birthday and it makes Scott sad. Scott talks about your childhood that you had and that u where being bullied and not a part of the pack. Could you please put Derek in it since him and Malia are cousins.

teen wolf <3

masterlist

Scott McCall gets home late that night. He’s used to these sort of days, the times when he’s so busy trying to stay afloat in a surging sea of school plans and hunter evasions and whatever new threats Beacon Hills has decided to kill him with that he scarcely has any time to himself. The moon has long since risen, and Scott thinks it’s as sure a sign as any that things are going badly around here that the almost full disc in the sky doesn’t bother him as much as it once was.

For a moment, he allows himself to miss the past. He can still picture how young he’d been when Peter Hale had first given him the bite, how Scott had basically been left to fend for himself with no other help than Derek showing up randomly and creepily to issue out weird phrases like ‘the bite is a gift’ and ‘we’re brothers now’ before disappearing again. Yeah, Scott still brings that up whenever he can. He feels that he deserves it.

Back then, Scott had Stiles, which had made the whole thing better. Despite the avalanche of stupid sarcastic comments about wolfsbane (which ended up being real) and full moons (also real) and packs (ok, so maybe Stiles had actually been on to something more than just making Scott lose his mind), Scott can’t think of someone he’d rather have by his side.

Even now, with Stiles returned to the FBI Academy, Scott still feels like he isn’t alone. Stiles calls all the time, updating his friends on crucial events like getting to brainstorm potential killers for recent murders or the cafeteria running out of chocolate syrup, things that are apparently of equal importance.

Still, Scott misses his friend. After so long of being pretty much inseparable, the vast distance between the two of them seems like an impossible challenge. There are days when he turns to hear Stiles’ humorous take on the latest threat to Beacon Hills only to find empty space where his best friend would have once been practically hovering over his shoulder.

That’s why Scott is pretty glad that he isn’t alone tonight. It’s been too hard for too long, and even if he’s expected to be some omnipotent alpha who always has the answers to every single problem, that’s not really the case.

For once, though, he isn’t going back to a dark house, one with the windows tightly shuttered like old ladies clutching their purses when they walk by a teenager with a little too much confidence. His mom has started working later and longer shifts at the hospital; neither of them bring it up, but her absence rings through the house, practically begging to be noticed.

However, Scott doesn’t have to creep through the empty house as if it’s no longer his, not tonight. He’s got a sure fire way of keeping the silence at bay: namely, the girl next to him, Malia Hale.

Malia catches him looking and grins. She still smiles like a werecoyote. Malia may have broken free from her permanent animal state, but Scott swears she’s still not entirely human. Right now, she could howl at the moon and make it still look normal.

This being said, he wouldn’t change a thing about her. Sometimes Scott envies Malia for the ease in which she lives her life. Other than fearing death by the hunters as they all do, Malia just goes about her day, sparing no time for inconsequential things like guilt or precalculus. She treads easily on all she’s done, whereas Scott’s conscience threatens to pull him under with every step.

They are growing to be more like each other, though. Scott feels more free by the day, and last week he swears he witnessed Malia help this little kid cross the road. She’d never admit to it, of course, but he knows what he saw.

Right now, he needs her most of all. The night should be his domain, especially with the light of an almost full moon painting his back with thick, broad strokes of white, but instead it just sets his mind to turmoil. At night, Scott has nothing to distract himself from all the stresses currently threatening to tear him asunder. It’s just him and the world, both trying to rid themselves of the other.

Whenever Scott’s worries get too much, though, he glances over at Malia again and remembers that he’s not alone. They’re pulling up to his house now, and for once it doesn’t seem so cold.

Malia makes her way easily through the darkened halls, the product of many, many days spent here. She technically has a home with Derek and Peter and any number of surviving Hales, but Scott knows that she’s still afraid to fully commit to living with them. Maybe he isn’t the only one trying to face down the terror of not being exactly what the world expects from them.

Scott opens the door to his room, crosses the floor on increasingly slow footsteps, and flops down on his bed. The moonlight makes it in here even still, refusing to leave him alone. It’s trapped by the shades of his window blinds, though, and can only attempt to reach him through waving tendrils of pale light that stretch across his ceiling.

He watches them bend and wave, each white strand only a few inches wide. They can’t reach him, not tonight. He’s reached home base, he’s not alone. Nothing can touch him now.

Malia regards the faint beams of moonlight too, then turns her attention to poking around Scott’s room. She’s been in here a thousand times, but still forced herself to peer in every nook and cranny as if expecting to find a sachet of wolfsbane tucked behind an ancient third grade spelling bee trophy.

Scott tucks his hands behind his head, watching her with amusement. “Have you found anything different yet?”

Malia rolls her eyes. “Not yet, but I’m sure I will. Look, it’s a natural instinct, alright? Gotta secure the perimeter of a home.”

Scott chuckles. “You’re securing perimeters now? Maybe you should give Stiles some tips, he’s apparently indoctrinated you into the FBI way of life.”

Malia breaks from her search to give him a vexed look, then goes back to her perusal. “And he would love to hear from me, of course. I’m fantastic.”

Scott’s smile grows content. “I know you are.”

Malia turns away hurriedly so Scott can’t see her beaming, but he thinks he can feel the force of it from here, and takes in every iota of happiness that has just crossed her face. Man, he likes her. He likes her a lot.

Scott has finally allowed himself to drop the last of his worries like stones, but his calm is rattled when Malia leans back, a stack of letters in her hands.

“What are these?” She asks. To her credit, Malia doesn’t start rifling through them immediately, although Scott can tell that she’d like nothing more than to do so.

Immediately, Scott remembers, and sits up slowly. “Those are from my sister, Y/N.”

Malia frowns. “Right, your sister. You never talk about her, so I guess I assumed you would never write.”

Scott stands up, walking over so he can look at the familiar written script. “That’s what I assumed too, but she proved me wrong when I got the first postcard.”

Malia’s brow furrows. “Why, did the two of you part on bad terms?”

Scott grimaces. “Something like that. She knew when I got the bite for the first time because it’s practically impossible to hide something like that forever, not from a family member. The only problem is that I didn’t make enough space in my life for her after that. She didn’t feel like a part of the pack, she didn’t even feel like my sister anymore. She left before you came along.”

Malia turns some of the postcards over in her hand, noticing the variety of locations emblazoned on the fronts. “I don’t get it. She, what, didn’t feel included and so she left? That’s not your fault, that’s her being a weirdo.”

Scott laughs in spite of himself, although he assumes he should regret it. “It wasn’t like that. In the very beginning, there wasn’t supposed to be a pack at all. It was just me and Stiles, you know? Then Allison started helping, and Lydia warmed up to us, and once Isaac and Derek came over to our side it actually turned into something. Y/N felt like I had cut her out of my life, so she left before she had to start feeling like an outsider with every other part of her world as well. I still think she was right to do it.”

Malia taps a finger against the stack of letters thoughtfully. “She was jealous, then, of the fact that you were supernatural? Stiles had been here since the beginning too and he never felt like that. I just don’t get why she was so upset.”

Scott rubs a hand on the back of his neck absentmindedly. “Of course Stiles felt like that, he just doesn’t like talking about it. He’ll cover up anything with a joke if he thinks it means people won’t look too closely at what he’s hiding. He’s been turned off of that, though, ever since the Nogitsune. I think he’s terrified that even thinking about being supernatural will make those deaths his fault, because then it would be obvious that he didn’t learn a thing from being possessed.”

Malia nods, sucking in a breath. “And Y/N, where is she now? Why’d she forgive you?”

Scott stares at the letters. He’d been so afraid that one day she would just stop writing, that she’d remember how callous he was and decide to cut him off for good. The letters keep coming, though, and Scott is still so afraid to jinx them.

“I’m not entirely sure. I think she needed the distance to clear her head, and be someone for herself instead of just being my sister. She travels a lot, started college, that sort of thing. Every now and then she writes to me about a pack she found or someone she thinks I should contact if things go supernaturally bad. She’s been very helpful in the past.”

Malia thinks about that for a moment. “So it’s like she is a part of the pack, then. Just really far away.”

After a heartbeat, Scott starts to smile. “Actually, yeah. I never thought about that. I should tell her sometime.”

A voice from the doorway makes both of them startle. “Tell who what? Are you talking about Y/N again?”

Malia makes a face at Derek Hale, who has appeared out of nowhere to lean idly against the open door frame. “It’s none of your business, that’s what. Also, stop jump scaring us like that. Knock for once in your life.”

Derek smirks. He has the same habit as Malia of always flashing his fangs whenever he smiles. “That’s my bad, you guys must not have heard me knock. Malia, I need you for official Hale business. Why are you talking about Y/N?”

Malia shrugs. “Just looking at some of her old letters. Why, did you know her?”

Derek tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling as he thinks. “In bits and pieces, yeah. I remember thinking the day she left that at least one of us would get to go live their lives free of all of this. You should ask her to visit sometime, it would be good to see her again.”

Scott nods. “Yeah, it would.”

Derek nods back, then tilts his head meaningfully towards the door. Malia sighs, then gives Scott a quick hug goodbye and disappears from the room. Derek lingers a little longer, though.

“You think this is your fault, don’t you? Y/N leaving, I mean.”

Scott sighs. “It is my fault. I pushed her away.”

Derek straightens up from his post against the threshold. “Not every disappearance is your fault. Trust me, I’ve watched enough people leave. Sometimes people just have to go, no other way about it. Y/N did what was best for her. That being said, if you want to meet up again, I think the two of you would be the better for it.”

Scott inclines his head. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. Thanks, though. I appreciate it.”

Derek smiles. He’s been doing it more frequently as of late, finally letting go of the cold hatred that’s been plaguing him for so long. “Any time. We still look out for each other, right?”

Scott watches the guy go, feeling oddly peaceful. “That we do.”

He listens for the sound of Malia getting into Derek’s car, then both of them driving away. Scott is well and truly alone now, although for once he doesn’t feel it. Instead, he has hope, hope that soon things will be better. He manages to fall asleep fairly quickly, and the faces that once haunted him just make the whole thing feel like a dream.

teen wolf tag list: @thatfangirl42, @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @rafecameronswhore, @bellabadacadabra, @watchreadfangirlrepeat

#scott mccall #scott mccall imagines #scott mccall x reader #scott mccall oneshot #malia hale #malia hale imagines #malia hale x reader #malia hale oneshot #teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf oneshot #teen wolf scott #teen wolf scott imagines #teen wolf scott x reader #teen wolf scott oneshot #mccall!reader

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mindofharry · 3 years

Text

Lover

In which Harry is the florist next door and Y/N is the cool new celeb. So much fluff! So much love! FEEDBACK IS WELCOME AS USUAL! PLEASE, PLEASE REBLOG IT HELPS SO MUCH :) ASKS ARE ALWAYS OPEN SO SEND IN SOME CONCEPTS ABOUT FLORIST!HARRY! HAPPY READING!

✧ ✧ ✧

The sun had just risen when Harry got out of his warm bed. He wouldn’t usually open up the floristry this early, but it’s the start of the summer holidays and he knows they’ll be people looking to get in a bit earlier for graduations and gifts for getting accepted into college etc.

Harry likes his sleep, he likes his bed and his small apartment above his shop. He’s quite content with everything in his life. But his floristry, ‘A&G’ (Anne for his mother and Gemma for his sister) he absolutely adores. It’s like his baby, his most prized possession. He spent years, his whole twenties saving up for this — for this life too. But he’s finally happy with where he is and he couldn’t be more in love.

But sometimes there does feel like there’s something missing. Like there’s something constantly out of place.

Love.

It’s a strong word, but he’s a romantic. Harry wants to have that rom com, notebook, notting hill sort of love. He wants it to be a devastating sort of love, dramatic and hard and overpowering.

He still hasn’t found anyone as of yet, but his main focus is the floristry. Everything else, will hopefully just fall into place.

Harry quickly gets into the shower, rushing his routine and forgetting to tie up his hair. He has a hair care regiment, but that’s all gone out the window now that his hair has touched the water. He changes into a pair of ripped jeans, a band tee and a white cardigan. His hair is curly and sticking out everywhere due to the water, but harry didn’t have the time to fix it. He grabbed his apartment and floristry keys, saying goodbye to the fish in the living room before he toes on his vans and leaves his home for the day.

Harry’s floristry is the best in London.

It’s homey and so cozy. And Harry makes sure to hire people that will make you feel like this is a safe place, like this could be a second home to you no matter who you are. That’s one of his main goals with this place, seen as the floristry around the corner from where he use to live as a child felt like a second home to him too. With his dad leaving and mum left to fend for herself, Harry and Gemma often felt lonely. They never blamed their mum as she had to pay the bills and put food on the table. But Harry despised his dad and there was so much anger brewing up inside of his little body.

Harry had found a floristry when he went on a walk to cool down — and he never looked back. Flowers gave him the creative power to do anything he put his mind to. At least that’s what he felt (feels) like. Harry feels at home in the floristry and everyone else should feel that way too.

It was just harry for the next hour or two and then his friend and employee Zayn, would pop in for a few hours to help out with the rush.

If things got super busy he would call Sarah in, but usually two a day was enough. Sarah and Zayn are the longest and best employees Harry had. And they’re more like his best friends if anything.

For now all Harry had to do was open up this place, get a few orders ready and then wait for the rush to begin. Harry opened up the door quickly, as the mornings were getting a little chillier. He opened up the blinds and put his keys in the basket behind the cashier. Harry grabbed his favourite candles and lit them, breathing in the cinnamon air with a slight hum. After he opened the place up a little, he set out to the back of the store to get some orders ready. The bouquets were done, but they just needed a little more love. Sarah and Zayn are amazing florists, but they don’t feel the same way about these flowers. Harry loves them like they’re human. They just need a little more TLC.

A few people came in and out, Zayn came in just before 11 and everything was running pretty smoothly.

“Hey, did you hear about Y/N L/N coming to London? All over twitter.” Zayn said as scrolled down his phone, leaning against the table. Harry rolled his eyes and continued to cut the ribbon he was using for his next bouquet.

“Don’t have twitter. And don’t know who this person you speak of is either” Harry said and Zayn dramatically gasped. Zayn was definitely one for privacy, just like harry. But don’t get him wrong, a bit of gossip never hurt nobody. Harry practically lives under a rock, he watches the occasional tv show and has watched a few interviews but other than that he’s not really interested or immersed in today’s celebs. He has way better things to be doing.

“Well, i’m going to take the liberty of telling you about her incase she shows up here” Zayn said and Harry shook his head. “And why would a celebrity come here?” Harry asked and Zayn just shushed harry in response, ignoring his question.

“She’s an upcoming actress from new york and is spending the winter here in the UK to film for this war movie or something. She was in the new little women and has some small roles here and there. But jesus is this woman beautiful” Zayn said and shoved his phone in Harrys face.

Harry couldn’t deny she wasn’t beautiful.

She was. She is.

She’s more than that. Eccentric, sexy, beautiful.

But was Harry going to let Zayn know that? Absolutely not.

“Ok, I get it” Harry said putting the scissors away. “I’ll play nice if she magically appears here” Harry said and Zayn rolled his eyes.

“You’re no fun, Harry.”

Lunch came quicker than anticipated, but Harry still had so much to do so he let Sarah and Zayn go out for lunch and they promised to bring him something back. He much preferred working by himself, so it didn’t bother him one bit.

Selena was playing on his record player, the candles still lit and his flowers surrounded and calmed harry.

Harry needed this. This quiet and calmness.

He opened his eyes when he heard a knock — more like bang at the door. He locked the door earlier because he was taking his lunch break and usually customers are going at waiting and being patient. But this customer seems a little more, no a lot more aggressive.

“Jesus” Harry mumbled to himself walking over to door, keys in hand ready to unlock.

He opened the door. “Hey, I left a sign for a reason. So sorry if you didn’t see it—“

Harry was pushed out of the way by what it seems to be a small woman in baggy clothing. She rushed to the back of the shop, not even sparing one look at harry.

“Hello? You can’t go back there!” Harry yelled after her. He looked around and spotted an abundance of camera men and women running down the same road that woman just did. Harrys eyes widened suddenly understanding the situation. He waved his hand at the men and women as they ran by, simply leaning against the door. Once they were gone and he was sure they wouldn’t turn back, he closed the door again locking and closing the blinds.

“I am so, so sorry. I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” The woman said pulling down her hood and sunglasses.

It’s her.

“I figured that. You can stay here for as long as you like, the paps went down to the street and left they should just end up at a dead end. So they’ll probably be back. So if you want to sort something out with like a friend I can lend you a phone or—“ Harry ranted, he was cut off but a finger to his lips and grin on the woman’s face.

“Thank you. I appreciate it. I’m Y/N.”

Y/N, the actress Zayn was talking about. Harry would never tell Zayn this, but he sure is glad he gave his little speech about her earlier.

“I’m harry and this is my floristry. There’s a staff room around the back with a sofa and stuff if you’d like to sit” Harry said, his cheeks a little flushed. God, she is even more beautiful in real life. Wide eyes, curly messy hair, a natural flush to her cheeks. She had her nose pierced, it suited her. As Harrys eyes danced over her face, Y/N couldn’t help the tingly feeling in her stomach.

Harry the florist.

Y/N the actress.

What could possible go wrong?

“I’d like that, Harry. How about a tour of the floristry first?”

Harry bit back a smile and nodded quickly, blushing profusely again.

He’s always been quite shy. But whenever he talked to girls he liked, he would get all jumbled up. But this is the most beautiful woman he’s ever met. And she seems so kind. He doesn’t want to make a bad impression.

“F-For sure. I can show you how to make a bouquet if you’d like? Something to bring home?” He asked and Y/N blushed nodding her head, feeling like a teenage girl — and normal person.

She expected to be pushed out to the paps or someone to freak out that she was here. Instead she got a kind, (handsome), shy florist. Y/N is definitely thanking her lucky stars for this man.

“So here we have my favourite flowers. Asters, Iris’, and marigold. So beautiful, right?”

Y/N could see and hear the passion coming from Harry. It made her happy.

“They’re beautiful. But niece is called iris. But after the song, not flower.” Y/N said and Harry softly smiled.

“Favourite song.”

“Me too.” Y/N said bashfully, then bent down to smell the flowers humming in delight.

“They smell amazing too!”

I’m sure you do too, harry thought. He almost smacked himself across the face from that thought.

“Over here is where we sell our flowers and bouquets. Lots of drawings from the kids that live around here, so many talented artists.” Harry said leaning against the cashier and Y/N placed a hand on the pictures smiling at them. There was a picture of two women and a small boy placed on top of a drawing.

“Is that you?” Y/N asked and Harry nodded, smiling fondly at the old picture. It was taken on their first summer holiday in years. Anne had finally saved up enough and the spent a week in spain. It was a happy memory for all of them.

“Me, my mum and sister. Named this place after them. A for Anne and G for Gemma.” Harry said and Y/N nodded.

“They’re beautiful, you all seem so close. I love that.”

Harry nodded not knowing how to respond.

“So how about those bouquets?”

Harry guided Y/N through the store with a hand on the small of her back. Y/N savoured that touch and smiled to herself.

“And this is where the magic happens.” Harry said flicking the light on.

“This place is so calming. I wish I worked here.” Y/N mumbled.

“You don’t like acting?” Harry asked, getting the supplies ready.

“No, I love acting. It’s my biggest passion. Don’t like the industry, but I guess I have to get on with it if I want bigger roles.” Y/N said shaking her head, Harry sighed and looked over at her.

“You shouldn’t have to just get on with it. You seem like a great person, I don’t understand how anyone could dislike you.”

Y/N shrugged keeping quiet.

“Well, there’s a job for you here if hollywood falls through.” Harry teased and Y/N laughed looking up at him.

“You know, that doesn’t sound so bad.”

Harry smiled at her, putting down all the supplies and turning to his record table picking Lover by taylor swift as the album of the evening. Y/N nodded to herself as the first song came on.

“I now trust you with my life.” Y/N said and Harry cackled throwing his head back.

“Because I listen to taylor swift?”

“Yes! You have no idea how many men dislike her. It’s disgusting! I’ve been waiting years to find someone like you!”

The minute she said that Harry blushed a dark red and nearly choked on his own spit.

“I could say the same thing” He replied and Y/N giggled, placing her hands on her warm cheeks. She hasn’t smiled this much in a long time. And it’s all thanks to a guy she just met 15 minutes ago.

“Let’s make these bouquets then!”

After a few minutes of silence, Y/N speaks up.

“Tell me about yourself, Harry.” She said taking a piece of ribbon from the supplies.

“What would you like to know?”

“Tell me everything.”

Harry smiled and blushed for what felt like the 700th time together.

“I’m 27.” Harry said cutting a piece off a flower. “Have a sister Gemma. She’s teacher back in our home town. My mum Anne worked in a cafe for years, she owns it now. Uh I love cats. I love flowers. I think I could write 20 books about flowers.” Harry said and Y/N nodded along listening intently.

“When did you open the floristry?”

“I think i was 20? maybe 21? I can’t remember, it was all a bit of a rush. I had the money, I had the tiniest bit of experience with business. I felt like it was fate when I saw this what up for sale. And I knew immediately what I wanted to do with it. It might sound strange, but I felt as if the flowers were my only friends back then. The only think I could fully rely on. I know it sounds extremely weird, but the flowers were my best friends. I wanted people to feel the same way I did. Flowers grounded me, made me feel safe, listened to me. So I opened the floristry and never looked back.” Harry said and before he could pick up another flower, Y/N placed her hands on his cheeks, pulled his head down and placed her lips on his.

Harry’s eyes widened as he pulled back, Y/N’s hands moved to his shoulders.

“You’re not strange. It’s not weird, it’s beautiful.” Y/N whispered and harry leaned down again, his nose brushing against hers.

“You’re beautiful.” He said and Y/N giggled.

“My friend was talking about you this morning. Tell me about you and how you might show up here.” Harry said pecking her lips, Y/N smiled against his lips.

“Definitely thanking my lucky stars right now.” Harry said.

“You read my mind.”

Y/N placed her lips on his again, her hands going to his hair and harry’s hands going to her hips.

“Celeb and florist. Must be fate.”

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles x y/n #florist!harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic

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thepariahcontinuum · 2 years

Text

New Year, New Masterpost:

Here's all my fics and where to find them:

RWBY

The Spiral Verse:

The Downward Spiral (2016-2017) - My first ever RWBY fic, the idea of Velvet Scarlatina being tempted by the ideas of the White Fang and a couple of OCs that lead to something far bigger. Ao3/FF Net

Our Happy Ever After (2017) - A look at the lives of the characters of Downward Spiral ten years later. Ao3/FF Net

FADE: Legacy (2017-2020) - twenty years after Downward Spiral a new generation of Hunters have risen to challenge of defending Remnant. Ao3/FF Net

Endless Spring (2020) - A follow up to Epilogue of FADE: Legacy, showing what became of a depowered Spring Maiden and an Android with a soul. Ao3/FF Net

MARZ Rising (2021-????) - Thirty years after the events of Downward Spiral, follow Team MARZ as they enroll at the Breaktide Academy of Menagerie to learn from Hunters such as Velvet Scarlatina and Ruby Rose. Ongoing fic, updates weekly. Ao3/FF Net

Atlas Declassified:

Hex-Code (2020) - A look into the workings of one of Atlas's most secret projects, it's designated Hunter Killers. Ao3/FF Net

Project Henhouse (2020) - A glimpse at one of Atlas's many failed secret weapon projects. Ao3/FF Net

Other RWBY Fics:

P-Money (2017) - Absolute crack involving a rap battle, I make no apologies. Ao3/FF Net

Repurposed (2017) - A conversation between Adam and Penny, where he tries to time honoured "We're not so different you and I" approach. Ao3/FF Net

Get FNKI (2017) - Written for the Monty Oum Project, my take on Team FNKI's initiation. Ao3/FF Net

She's So Cool (2017) - Thoughts on Pyrrha Nikos from those who knew her. Ao3/FF Net

RWBY Rare Pair Week 2017 (2017) - A collection of one-shots that very loosely tie into one another. Ao3/FF Net

Team SHRD, Counter Attack (2017) - My contribution to a Secret Santa project, using someone else's OCs. Ao3/FF Net

Beautiful Oblivious Moron (2018) - I was given the prompt "Sun and Neptune at a pool party" and this is what ensued. Ao3/FF Net

Jiminy Cricket (2018) - Tock wakes up after her supposed death to find that several years have passed, more worrying still is that she isn't the only consciousness in her body. Ao3/FF Net

Bundle of Joy (2019) - Just an excuse to take the way a lot of people create fan-kid OCs and explore the possibilities, logistics and ramifications. Ao3/FF Net

STRQ Week 2020 (2020) - A series of connected stories following Team STRQ from initiation to graduation. Ao3/FF Net

Chasing Rainbows (2021) - Because I refuse to believe that Ruby wouldn't have a crush on Ilia I'd they'd be allowed to interact. Ao3/FF Net

After (2023) - With Salem defeated and the people of Remnant slowly trying to rebuild everything that was lost Cinder Fall roams the wilderness of Anima. Her private efforts to make a better world than the one which cast her aside are interrupted and she finds herself receiving some unexpected help….when she needed it the most. Ao3/FF Net.

Power Rangers:

Aegis (2019-2021) - an OC centric story featuring Rangers and other characters from across canon as the Galaxy unites to fend off a new threat, the new Lord Zedd. Ao3/FF Net

Deinonychus (2021) - A story I wrote to flesh out a character for an RPG server. Ao3/FF Net

Pokémon:

The Santa Claus(e) (2019) - A remake of a story I first wrote in 2016, an unnamed trainer goes to great lengths to remove their name from the Naughty List. Ao3/FF Net

My Hero Academia

Acid Reign (2020) - in which we put some damn respect on Mina Ashido's name. Ao3/FF Net

Training Buddies (2023) - In which we put some damn respect on Ochako Ururaka's name after she and Katsuki have a rematch. Ao3/FF Net

PowerPuff Girls/Cartoon Cartoons

PPG Reckoning (2021) - The dumpster fire that was the leaked CW scripts promoted me to dig out some notes from a half joking series of ideas I'd had with friends several years ago. INDEFINITE HIATUS, this story is effectively scrapped due to lack of time and readership. Ao3/FF Net

Warhammer 40,000

The Wretched (2022) - A short oneshot intended to give some character and context for a Creations of Bile list I had drafted. Ao3/FF Net

Parahumans (Worm/Ward)

Learning Curve (2022) - The original team of Wards are finally trusted to undertake an operation without having the Protectorate on hand to supervise them and naturally there is more to the situation than first believed. Ao3/FF Net

The PR Nightmares (2022) - Why the capes have marketing and PR teams and a look at what those poor souls have to deal with. Ao3/FF Net

Fifty-Three Seventy (2023) - At the end of Ward we saw that Weld's power was altered during the fight with the Titans but we never saw the specifics of it. Lung, inexplicably continued to survive everything that was thrown at him...But now he gets to learn about the downside of having a metal body. Ao3/FF Net

Invidiak (2023-2024) - Powers reflect the Trigger Event which caused them to some degree. Y'know who has a power that would really make getting out of a locker a lot easier and who was directly involved in Taylor's Trigger Event. Sophia "Shadow Stalker" Hess. Ao3/FF Net

Case File: Vox-Irae (2024) My contribution to Parahumanzine OC project. Original Post/Ao3/FF Net

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samstree · 3 years

Text

Hug a Witcher Day (1/3)

Jaskier writes a new song ‘Hug a Witcher Day.’ It gains insane popularity and Geralt finds himself hugged by random strangers on one day every year. He just wishes a particular bard would hug him too.

By one person’s popular demand, I present to you a touch-starved Geralt, a cheeky Jaskier and a lot of pining.

fluff, hand holding, sharing clothes, yearning, 3k, rated G

read on AO3

It is the most ordinary morning.

The wind is picking up after last night’s rain, a common occurrence in the fall, bringing nice moisture in the air all the way from the sea. The last of the heat washed away to reveal crisp blue sky, stretching all the way to meet the mountain range.

It’s an ordinary morning, except everyone is staring at Geralt.

The inn is not busy this early in the morning, but a few patrons have risen for the first meal of the day. As the witcher sits down at a table, the atmosphere changes instantly. The conversation hushes and eyes start turning in his direction. Some are even giggling with their friends upon seeing him.

Although, there’s no malice, no fear, or disdain.

Only amusement.

It won’t be the first time that a crowd finds a witcher to be a curious sight. Although it is unusual for a town of this scale to have never seen one of them before.

So Geralt pays no mind. He only wants to finish his porridge in peace. His stomach has been rumbling since he missed dinner last night. The hunt took way longer than he anticipated, and by the time he returned, the inn had long since stopped serving. Although the maid—a young girl no more than sixteen—promised to give him an extra portion at breakfast.

Even she’s staring too.

The girl takes a look at Geralt’s finished bowl and hurries to fetch another from the kitchen. She carries the porridge and an extra loaf of rye bread to his table with a smile that gradually lights up her whole face.

Geralt nods as she puts them down, confused at the good mood of this whole establishment.

His confusion grows when she doesn’t leave. Instead, the girl lingers a moment, as if working up her courage, before bending down to circle her arms around Geralt.

He has to fight every instinct in his body to stay still and let her hug him. Her arms are squeezing gently, not the too-tight kink. Her curled locks are all over his face. When she pulls back, her round cheeks are flushed like a beet, the grin now carrying a hint of embarrassment.

“Why—”

“Thank you, master witcher!” she exclaims chirpily.

“What for?” he frowns.

“For getting rid of the fiend, of course!” She’s almost taking offense at the question. “Right before today, no less.”

“What’s so special about today?”

“It’s the day before Saovine, sir. Do you not know?”

Well…no. The passage of time registers too vaguely when he’s traveling alone from one town to another. The contract last night was no different from the last five.

Geralt doesn’t want to think about how monotonous the path is without a companion, or he’ll have to admit to himself that he’s missing the bard and his ridiculous songs and too-loud playing. He won’t do it, even in the safety of his own mind.

Still, her answer doesn’t explain anything.

“The day before Saovine!” she must be seeing his silence as an encouragement to continue. “It’s Hug a Witcher Day!”

Geralt drops the spoon into the porridge. Biting back a curse in a child’s company, he fumbles to fish it out.

“Hug a—what?”

“It’s how the song goes! Hug a witcher and thank him for the work he’s done. All the monster-killing in the past year!” Her smile turns to a tiny frown. “And you, sir, just killed that fiend for us last night. As the lyrics say, it’s only right that I hug you!”

“It was…my job. And why does it have to be Saovine?”

“It’s the day before Saovine, sir. It’s the last holiday before witchers rest for the winter. It’s only right to thank them now.” she proclaims proudly. “Have you really not heard ‘Hug a Witcher’?”

Should he have? Before asking the next question, Geralt has an inkling that he already knows the answer.

“Whose song is it?”

“Who else? Your bard of course. Master Jaskier the bard!”

The words your bard somehow lands on a soft spot in Geralt’s chest.

Although Jaskier hasn’t traveled with him for months. Geralt doesn’t pay attention to the bard’s new hits because they will eventually reach his ears anyway. Jaskier can never pass an opportunity to serenade him with every new composition when they are alone by a campfire, looking for the witcher’s personal reviews no matter how well-received by the public they appear to be.

“Hmm.” Geralt calculates the distance between where he is and Oxenfurt. This ‘Hug a Witcher’ song, in fact, is spreading faster than any of Jaskier’s famous ballads.

A hug can’t be worse than being tossed coins, right?

It keeps happening for the rest of the day.

First, it’s the stable hand. Geralt is just trying to load his pack onto Roach when the young lad comes in. He doesn’t try to hug Geralt, only giving him a polite nod.

“Thank you. For your work, sir,” the lad says, before helping Geralt saddle the mare. “Like the song says, eh? Thank a witcher so no monster will plague you in the coming year.”

And then, it’s a few small children. A flock of them suddenly come out of nowhere and just… cling to his legs.

“Thank you master wiiiiitcheeeeer!” They shout in unison and drag the last few syllables longer and longer. And then the group disperses just as quickly as they gathered, giggling and running off to an alley.

All except one.

The smallest one stays at his feet, looking up and staring at him.

“Hug!” the boy stretches out his short arms.

Geralt blinks.

The boy stares, eyes wide and expectant.

So Geralt has no choice but to bend down and let the boy wrap those short arms around his neck.

“You’re welc—"

It’s over in a second and the child is rejoining his friends, who are now peaking their heads out of the corner of the alley. Excited squeals erupt among them.

Geralt feels the corners of his lips tugging upwards.

When he gets to the market, a few shop owners are smiling so brightly and offering discounts. Roach gets a horseshoe and an apple for free within the first hour. The silversmith shouts out thanks before jogging up to him and pulls him in for a bear hug.

“Hug a witcher for luck,” she says.

“No, it’s for good harvests!” an old man corrects her.

They keep coming.

But everyone has a different reason and it makes Geralt wonder how many versions Jaskier has for this one song. Or, he dreads to think, how long it is.

“Hug a witcher and death will avoid your door.”

“Hug a witcher for a merciful winter.”

“Hug a witcher for good rain!”

“Thank you, master witcher.”

“Thanks, sir, for your service!”

“Geralt! You need to control your bard!”

Lambert growls as he slams into the heavy wooden door of Kaer Morhen keep, stamping his foot to shake off the snow.

Turning another page of the book, Geralt refuses to look at his younger brother when he’s in a grouchy mood.

“What did he do?” he asks nonchalantly.

“You know—" Lambert grits his teeth. “—what he did.”

The youngest wolf sits down, crowding Geralt’s space, his cloak still wet from the storm outside. Geralt raises an eyebrow but stays on the book. He is not going to make it easier for his brother.

After seconds of silence, Lambert finally gives in. “His song!”

“You can’t possibly be mad about Hug a Witcher.” Eskel walks in and also sits at the table, the sewing kit and a ripped shirt in hand. “It’s a good one.”

“I’m a witcher! They saw me and tried to hug me!”

“So?”

Like Geralt, Eskel only fuels the youngest wolf’s exasperation. He even starts to thread the needle, completely unfazed.

“So?” Lambert pulls off his cloak and the water splashes all over Geralt’s book. “For a whole day, people tried to touch me. A whole day, Geralt! All thanks to your bard and his blasted song! I couldn’t even get out of town without those folks jumping on me.”

“And? I don’t know about you, but I appreciate some showing of gratitude. Thank your bard for me, will you?” Eskel nudges at Geralt.

“Hmm.”

“I don’t care,” Lambert continues, pointing a finger at Geralt. “Tell the bard to stop this nonsense, or I will stop him myself and he won’t be as pretty afterwards.”

Geralt finally dogears the page and faces his brother’s tantrum. He wonders if the crease between his eyebrows is tight enough to crack a walnut—it might be fun to try one day. “Or you can just not let them,” he deadpans.

“What?”

“You are a witcher, the best one among us—according to yourself.” Geralt tilts his head, squinting. “Are you telling me you couldn’t fend off some villagers who were only trying to give you a squeeze?”

Lambert’s face stills, his index finger hanging in the air. In front of Geralt’s unblinking eyes, his face turns redder and redder.

“Urgh,” with an annoyed wave, Lambert storms off the same way he stormed in, all the while muttering all kinds of colorful curses.

Geralt purses his lips as to not let out a too-obviously laugh, but at the corner of his eyes, he notices Eskel shaking his head in amusement.

“All jokes aside, I liked the song.”

Geralt shrugs.

“Jaskier knows how to make them go around.”

“No, I like the day that came with the song. Just about a decade ago, people barely thanked us for a job well done, but now? Lambert is a prick, but I don’t mind having a pat on the back after spending a whole year on the path. Don’t you think?”

“Hmm.” He shrugs again.

Eskel has put down his needlework and is observing him intently. Both of his brothers are so weird about this, Geralt reckons, but on opposite sides of weird. Maybe that’ll be the bard’s review when they meet in the spring.

“Maybe you are indifferent because your bard already knows to appreciate you, wolf. Being your barker and all. Was he thrilled to see the rest of the world catch on?”

Geralt frowns while opening the book again, not sure where this is going.

“Jaskier wasn’t with me during Saovine.”

“No?” Eskel is moving into his space too. Urgh, the two of them. “You bard got the whole continent to hug you, but he wasn’t there to give you one himself?”

“No.”

A sudden surge of irritation rises, but Geralt isn’t sure why. All he wants to do is read the damn book without his brothers nagging him about how terrible or how amazing this ridiculous day is.

“Hmm.” Eskel mirrors his hum. Every time the older witcher does this is because he’s trying to figure out something, and Geralt has no intention of finding out.

“I’ll read elsewhere.” With a loud snap of the book, Geralt leaves the room in a few quick strides.

He has a feeling that this lousy mood might stick with him for a while yet. At least until he can leave Eskel’s inexplicable prodding and Lambert’s grumpy ass behind.

“I know you don’t like the touchy mushy stuff, Geralt. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know they would actually hug you all day long!”

Jaskier looks so contrite that his hands are reined in from his full-body gestures, and that’s how Geralt knows the guilt is genuine. His fingers are fidgeting with the hemline of his winter doublet and his hands, exposed in the chill, are turning red.

It’s still quite early in the spring, since Geralt has come to find the bard in Oxenfurt as soon as the ground thawed. A cold spell is hitting the town pretty hard, although Jaskier is sure that it’ll be the last one before green returns to this town.

It doesn’t help that snow has been steadily falling and melting at the same time during their stroll around campus. The bard shivers a little.

“It’s fine,” Geralt says, taking off his own scarf and wrapping it around Jaskier’s neck.

“It is not! Once again, I have been so focused on my professional achievements and forgotten about the impact those songs have on you. All of you.”

Jaskier helps Geralt adjust the scarf so it covers all of his neck and the lower half of his face. It’s made of the warmest yarn Vesemir keeps at Kaer Morhen, but the plain color is a stark contrast against the delicate design of the bard’s fur-lined doublet. In comparison, Geralt’s scarf looks too coarse to be there, but Jaskier seems content enough to bury his face into the material, letting out a soft sigh.

His hands still look cold, so Geralt removes his gloves as well.

“Eskel likes it. The song and the day.”

Those words seem to lighten Jaskier’s mood. His eyebrows raise ever so slightly.

“Really? He likes Hug a Witcher day?”

“Mm-hmm.”

The bard flexes his stiff hands before sliding into the leather gloves. They fit surprisingly well with Jaskier’s long fingers, only a bit loose on the wrists, so Geralt makes sure to fasten the cords. He then holds both Jaskier’s hands between his palms, just to warm them up a little.

Can’t let a lutenist complain about frostbite on his fingers.

“Says it’s nice to be appreciated for all the hard work he’s done. The hugs aren’t bad either,” Geralt explains. “Eskel never minded them anyway.”

“And you?” Despite his slight apprehension, Jaskier’s eyes are filled with careful hope. “Do you mind them?”

With a final squeeze, Geralt lets go.

“I told you it’s fine.”

“You don’t have to say it to make me feel better, my dear. I know how you don’t like people touching you,” the bard says, reaching out to brush off some snowflakes on Geralt’s shoulder with a gloved hand.

Geralt frowns, looks down to Jaskier’s casual touch on his shoulder, and then back to his concerned blue eyes.

Why on earth does Jaskier think he hates touches? The bard himself touches him all the time, at least in the past couple of years. Not at the beginning though, when they were barely friends and Geralt told him to fuck off all the time and not to feed Roach treats and—

And when Geralt punched him in the gut just to drive him away.

He’s seen Jaskier hug so many people, countless flings, long-term lovers, his parents, cousins, even other bards. He’s seen Jaskier hug Essi just this morning while being teased by her relentlessly about something Geralt didn’t understand. Must have been an inside joke.

But never him.

Jaskier never hugs him.

The realization sinks Geralt’s heart somehow. The cold wind suddenly cuts a lot more brutally on his bare neck and hands.

He doesn’t mind a little nip when Jaskier is the more sensitive one, being human and all. But at this moment, with the bard all bundled up in a soft doublet with those feathery puffs on his shoulders, he looks like he can give great hugs.

Jaskier looks so…huggable.

Geralt wonders what it would be like to take Jaskier in his arms and squish him over those thick, airy clothes. He wonders if he can bury his nose into his scarf—now it would smell like a mixture of Jaskier’s floral scent and the wood ash that always lingers around Geralt’s person. He would pull away to see Jaskier’s cheeks painted pink in the cold air and snow melting on his long lashes—

“You are just saying it, aren’t you? I have deeply offended you.” Jaskier interrupts those wandering thoughts because he has taken the silence as anger. His expression can only be described as crestfallen. “I’m sorry. Please don’t be too mad. I cannot lose my best friend. I simply cannot take it, Geralt! I will die of a broken heart!”

The plea is so dramatic that Geralt lets out a chuckle.

“Will you relax?” he pats Jaskier on his puffy sleeve. “I’m not mad, little poet. It truly is fine. Some children hugging me on the leg is not the end of the world.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Somehow, Geralt knows that if Jaskier decides to also give him a hug that day, it won’t be the worst thing either. Hug a witcher to thank him, it’s the bard’s own words. He’s protected Jaskier from angry spouses so many times it will definitely warrant a hug, right?

“Good, then.” Jaskier lowers his face into the scarf again, pretending to hide from a draft, but Geralt can see the faint smile around the corners of his eyes. “I’m glad your brothers also enjoyed my contribution to what will become the next official holiday.”

“Oh no, that’s just Eskel. You should avoid Lambert this year.” Geralt grimaces. “Maybe the next few years too.”

Jaskier is taken aback but recovers quickly.

“Well, I’ve got you to protect me from his wrath, my friend who’s not angry with me.” The smile, this time, is genuine and brightens up Jaskier’s whole being. His arms stretch out in a pose once more. “Where shall we go when spring comes? You know, when it really comes.”

Jaskier grimaces at the sky as if judging it for the untimely harsh weather blocking their way.

“Hmm.”

Geralt is in no hurry to determine the where of their journey this year, but the when of it…

A sudden ache in his chest tells him that maybe he should stick with Jaskier until Saovine.

Or at least the day before.

---

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

#geraskier fic #geraskier #my writing #touch-starved geralt #soft jaskier #soft geralt #mutual pining #emotional hurt/comfort #but in later chapters #geralt x jaskier

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honestgrins · 3 years

Note

I have a prompt for you if you can. Not sure if you watch Legacies, there’s an episode where Lizzie makes a wish to a Jinn that Hope is never born. In this alternate universe, Lizzie won the Merge, Klaus flipped his switch 2 years ago in grief and started a war with the humans leading to Triad publicly hunting all supernaturals. Enemy #1 is Klaus and his vampire wife Caroline Mikaelson. I’d like to see a Klaroline fic of this AU please.

Prompt part 2. I have some personal thoughts on this alternative universe but itS totally up to you if you go with them or if you come up with your own. No Hope means no Hayley, means no Elijah dying. So why was Klaus grieving? No Hope means back in TVD S4 the witches had no way of luring him to NO so he stayed in MF eventually wearing Caroline down into a relationship. Josie and Lizzie were like his daughters and when they merged he and Caroline both flipped the switch in grief of Josie.

Tears Will Never Dry (angsty)

“I failed them.” Her voice was so small and defeated. Curled up as she was in the armchair, Caroline looked blankly out the window. Though she had a perfect view of Bonnie talking through some witchy herbs with a despondent Lizzie out in the courtyard, her eyes didn’t seem to register. It was like she wasn’t even there.

Klaus, who once proudly professed he had no heart, felt something break inside him for he knew nothing could truly comfort her. He had failed her. So he offered what little he could, what he held onto when she was so far away. “You love them so completely, you could never fail them,” he vowed, and he’d never meant something so much. It took all his strength not to pull her into his arms, to close the distance she wrapped around herself so tightly. “You will help Lizzie through this, and—” The lump in his throat made it hard to speak, not that he could bring himself to say the name she cried in her sleep. “—you loved her to the end.”

Tears trickled down her crumpled face. “It’s not supposed to happen that way,” she croaked. “Mom and Dad loved me to the end, too. Their ends. Now, I have to live with her being gone. Forever.”

It used to be a promise between them, sweet and tempting; on her tongue, the word sounded sour. Helpless and desperate, Klaus kneeled at her feet. He pressed his mouth to her knee, hands wrapped around her legs like a lifeline. “Tell me what I can do. Please, sweetheart. Let me help.”

Blinking down at him, she let her fingers card through his hair. Her smile was sad, apologetic. “It just hurts so much.”

And he knew it was too late.

The club was a dangerous idea. They were meant to be in hiding, and it defied sense to flaunt their return to New Orleans in a favorite haunt. But the girls were having fun, and Klaus was loathe to break up the party with sense.

He was tucked into the quietest corner of the VIP lounge, high above the din. Lizzie and Caroline, meanwhile, danced in the crush of the crowd, the pounding beat far too much for even a vampire’s ears. They laughed as they bumped into each other, and a smile curled his lips. It was good to be home.

Their little family was still grieving Josie’s loss after two years, each in their own way. Caroline preferred enjoying the lighter side of life, aided by a lack of human sensibilities. Lizzie alternated between reveling in her magic and loathing it for the too dear cost, just as she hated her mother for flipping the switch and loved having her as more of a friend. Klaus...

Klaus was just trying to keep the game interesting.

“Careful, friend,” Marcel warned, offering him a fresh drink as he dropped into the next chair. “Your humanity is showing.”

“She’s not paying me any mind, we can speak freely.” He turned to his old friend, a son that was lost and found, then lost and found again. How he wished he could grant such a miracle to Caroline. “Tell me about Triad.”

Clenching his glass, Marcel looked grim. “My nightwalkers keep disappearing, and even the ones with the GIft,” he murmured with laden meaning, since vampires had learned to hoard the secret of lapis lazuli and the safety it provided, “have mentioned being followed. Davina hasn’t risen far in the ranks of the organization yet, but she thinks a big move is in the works.”

He grit his teeth. “And?”

“The ‘vampire wife’ is whispered around the place. Often.”

It was a fight to loosen the tension in his body, but a necessary one. He raised a toast to Caroline, who tried to coax him out to the dance floor. He shook his head, charming enough so as not to rouse her suspicion. “I assume a kidnapping then.”

“At the least,” Marcel agreed. “Whether they want information from her or to use her against you, torture is to be expected. The switch might be a benefit to her if it comes to that—”

"It won't." His tone was final, even as he held his smirk. The ladies were too busy laughing off those bold men trying to dance with them to read him from afar. "She's been through enough."

Noticeably quiet, Marcel just sipped his drink.

“What, Marcellus?” Klaus bit out.

With a measured glance toward him, he shrugged. “The switch... She’s not really going through anything, and she hasn’t for years now. And thinking you’ve flipped yours, too? You’ve created a comfortable little world for her to avoid the pain, maintaining it to keep her safe without her knowing. What happens when the illusion shatters?”

He gave a careless flip of his hand. “She can’t turn it off twice.”

“If you say so.”

It wasn’t a new argument to Klaus, not when Stefan, Bonnie, Elijah — even Rebekah — had implored him to rethink his grand strategy for Caroline to party away the worst of her pain. At the very least, he could be honest about his own, relatively intact humanity. Instead, he let her enjoy the lighter side of life without tempting a worse outcome should she feel the need to punish him for trying to fix her. After all, she’d done much the same when her mother died.

The subterfuge was messy but necessary, especially with credible threats against her in this war the humans insist upon waging. His ear was attuned to the array of heartbeats throughout the club, the loud music not enough to dull his hybrid senses. Vampires had a slow, dull throb when compared to the hearty pound of a werewolf, not that they’d find themselves in the Abattoir without some pressing business that was sure to involve him. Same with the witches, and only Lizzie’s let out the fast-paced thrum of both full blood and magic.

Humans, though, they seemed to be threading in from the edges of the crowd — and aiming for the blondes at the center. Feeling the world slow around him, Klaus launched himself down from the balcony, mindless to the vampires hurrying to get everyone out of his way. None of them caught the true danger, however, until the strobe light caught on the wooden stakes being pulled from jackets.

Klaus managed to snap three necks before they got close, but Caroline was too busy blocking access to Lizzie to notice the woman stretching a strong arm toward her. Feeling like he was underwater, he watched as Lizzie’s fear overwhelmed her, and the hand grasped around her mother’s wrist glowed red. Pain seemed to lance through Caroline, and she lost her focus to fend off the attack she still hadn’t seen coming.

The familiar scent of her blood filled the air, and all Klaus could see was red.

Later, he would confirm that the scratch down Caroline’s back healed perfectly, that she’d survived the bold offensive he hadn’t stopped. Even later than that, he would acknowledge his plan had been far from perfect, without even the veneer of success to defend it when her humanity was eventually restored.

But in the moment, the thought of losing her to his own carelessness was too much. Clearly, holding onto his humanity wasn’t working the way he’d envisioned; in fact, his rage at the sight of a stake piercing her skin felt like a liability. He processed this in the span of a second, and by the time the human’s bloody head hit the dance floor, his decision had been made.

The world already saw him as a ruthless monster. He might as well give it to them, and he’d make them bleed for daring to harm her. He didn’t need his humanity for that.

With his fangs bared and blood dripping from his hand, he certainly looked the part. When Caroline met his eyes, however, something must have alerted her to the change. Having torn the stake from her back and moved Lizzie to the safe space between them, her head tilted to the side as she appraised him with a new appreciation. She gave a sharp grin of joy and arousal, her tongue slipping from beneath her fangs to wet the corner of her lips. “It’s about time.”

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #fic: tears will never dry #angsty #to rely on the kindness of strangers #lorelaipeyton

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kim-miri · 3 years

Text

HALF(have a little fun) pt. iv

→ one | two | three

→ Sayomi Zoldyck is the eldest child and twin sister to Illumi, of the renowned Zoldyck family of assassins. At the age of ten she’s taken away to Meteor City by her mother, Kikyo Zoldyck, unbeknownst to the rest of the family, as well as newborn Killua, and left to fend for herself. This is the story of the long-lost Zoldyck and those she becomes acquainted with, all while she just wants to have a little fun.

» part four / ?

» pairing: eventually - chrollo x oc x feat. hisoka

» warnings: swearing, blood/violence

» a/n: helloo~ this is my first write ever, and it’ll probably be a pretty long series. I’m also balancing school and a part-time job so forgive me for slow updates! If you’re reading this, thank you so much for showing interest and please leave comments below with your inputs!

» word count: 3,118

☾iv.

Name: Sayomi Zoldyck 小夜美 | "小" is small | "夜" is night | "美" is beauty |

Hair color: White

Eye Color: Purple

Nen: Manipulator (same exact abilities as Illumi)

Abilities: Same as Illumi Zoldyck - Body Alteration, Hypnotic Spell, Corpse Control, Needle People, Katana

☾iv. part iv: the mafia(1/2)

The ambience within the car was calm, or at least a calm for the situation at hand.

Sayomi was curious about what kind of job she was being forced into, but at the same time, she wanted to maintain her composed facade by staying quiet.

She decided to start with a subtle question. “So… who exactly are you guys anyway?”

The man seated next to her answered without an ounce of hesitation, “The mafia.”

Well, shit. So much for a subtle question.

Sayomi was thrown off by the man’s response for the first time since they’d showed up.

The mafia… what would they want with a nobody from Meteor City?

Her parents had often spoken of the Mafia. They had a reputation of harboring no-name assassins who’d overrun the market with their skill and mass numbers.

No names… Mother once said that the most notorious criminals hailed from the dumps in Meteor City. Because… their records didn’t exist! They couldn’t be traced, but I wasn’t born there. Do they know that?

Sayomi was on edge now, having a vague idea of what they might be planning to do with her. “What, am I gonna be one of the Mafia’s little assassins now?”

The man smirked at her quick deduction abilities. “You’re a bright one I see, Sayomi Zoldyck.” His tone had roughed up at her last name.

He knows.

“Well, seeing that you know who I am. You should also be aware that my family would never let me work for another group, right?”

He moved in his seat, turning to face her slightly as he sensed a long conversation. “And that’s why they left you here? Because they care about you?”

She grimaced at the hard truth behind his words.

In an attempt to hide her deflating ego, she replied an icy tone, “Don’t make assumptions. You people know nothing about my family.”

The man let out a monotonous laugh. “Ms Zoldyck, I’m not trying to start a fight here. We didn’t take you to use against your family or anything of that sort. We simply came to recruit our next line of assassins... and what a coincidence! The family we were following called one day to say they had a proposal for us, and that’s where you came in. It was just the luck of our draw that you happened to stumble upon the exact family of who would’ve been our next assassin.”

Ayame.

The man continued, “So please, rest assured we will not attempt to harm you or notify your family of your whereabouts. That would only be bad for both of us, correct?”

Sayomi nodded in defeat. She hadn’t stopped to think about the possibilities of her captors being a group so far up the food chain.

It’s true I don’t exactly want to go back home anyway. Maybe I’ll stick around and see what happens.

Sayomi closed her eyes as she leaned up against the cool glass of the window. Her head was throbbing from the sudden onset of overwhelming information, and all she wanted now was to let herself drift off into sleep.

Noting the lack of words from the teen beside him, the man made quiet movements to revert back to his original position, opting to stare out the window as the remainder of the car ride went without another word.

Deep in her dreams, Sayomi felt an emotion she hadn’t experienced since she was abandoned.

Happiness.

☾ iv.

Inside Sayomi’s dreams.

Sayomi looked down at herself to see she was wearing the kimono she had on the day her mother left her. There’s no way it could still fit her now, having grown almost half a foot, but there she was.

Fine, black silk ran elegantly down her shoulders, arms, and body. The silver accents shone like moonlight reflecting off of her form, while a shocking violet color made up the wrap around her waist.

“Sayomi! Get your head out of the clouds! If I beat you this time I’m taking your new daggers!”

Her head whipped up at the familiar squeaky voice. “Illumi?” she mumbled.

At the sound of his name, the boy turned back towards her, mid-run. The wide smile on his face was replaced by a frown as he noticed Sayomi’s perplexed expression.

Sayomi said nothing, however, only running towards her twin as she reached out to envelop her ever 10 year old brother in a hug.

But upon contact with Illumi, he vanished into thin air, taking the familiar scene of the courtyard away with him.

In a split second, she was back in Meteor City.

Sayomi blinked twice before slumping down into the sickening piles of junk and filth, sobbing as the absence of her other half sparked her back into reality.

“Ms Zoldyck”, a man’s voice echoed through her dreams.

“Ms Zoldyck”, once again and she opened her eyes-

☾ iv.

Sayomi blinked several times, spotting the reflection of herself slumped against the car door in the window.

It was much brighter now, the sun having risen far overhead while she had been asleep.

She squinted at the scenery whizzing by outside the window, sighing in defeat when she failed to recognize her new surroundings.

“Good Morning Ms Zoldyck. We have about a half an hour left to our destination.”

Bidding a slurred ‘good morning’ to the voice in return as she stretched her limbs, a weight dropped in her chest as she remembered why she was here.

Making use of the time left before her arrival, Sayomi attempted to wake herself further as she mentally prepared for the events to come.

15 more minutes in, and the nature that made up the scenery outside began to clear as Yorknew City came into view.

Worries aside, Sayomi stared at the rapidly approaching city in awe. She had yet to have visited Yorknew City, as her parents had felt she wasn’t ready for the big jobs yet.

But now she faced the megacity at last. She couldn’t help but feel excited at the thought of being in the bustling city of Yorknew on her own.

She was like a teenager who had snuck out to the mall while her parents were at work.

There was something so exhilarating about going against her parents’ words, even if it was unintentional. In the back of her mind, she felt crazy for cracking a smile in the situation she was in, but the 16 year old side of her ignored it as she let herself enjoy the moment.

Maybe this won’t be as bad as I thought.

☾ iv.

Arriving at their destination, the three black cars pulled up in front of a luxurious hotel.

Sayomi looked up at the building in awe, her breath fogging up the glass as she gaped at the forever extending floors of the hotel.

The driver of her designated car stepped out, followed by the man on her left.

Rounding about the back of the car, the man opened the door on Sayomi’s side, gesturing for her to exit the vehicle.

She quickly obliged, slinging her katana over her shoulder as the men from the other two cars accompanied her into the lobby.

Sayomi was once again awestruck by the interior of the hotel, everything around her seeming to scream ‘high-class’ and ‘wealthy’. It was a stark contrast to the rags she wore, having no other clothes besides the now tiny kimono she’d left back at Meteor City.

Although the mansion was without a doubt far larger and much pricier than the hotel in which she stood, Sayomi was mesmerized by the people, walking around or sitting in groups, their friendly bonds shining through the crowds.

Back at home, Sayomi’s only ‘friends’ had been Illumi and the butlers. She had yet to experience what it was like to have real friends, her parents seeing them only as a distraction to her job.

She was pulled away from her thoughts as one of the men nudged her to keep walking, the group making their way to the elevators.

Stopping in midway through the hall in wait of an elevator, the man who had been sitting next Sayomi in the car spoke up, “Welcome to your new temporary home, Ms Zoldyck.”

Home? I get to stay in this classy hotel?

The man broke through her thoughts once again, “As I told you before, as long as you behave and prove to be a valuable asset to us, we will treat you with the utmost respect.”

Sayomi made brief eye contact with the man, still wary of the offputting kindness they were showing her. Nevertheless, she nodded, not wanting to ruin the rare opportunity.

A loud ding signified the arrival of their elevator, and the same man accompanied Sayomi into the elevator, the rest of the members turning to head back out of the building.

Inside the elevator, the man held two buttons down at the same time, the top two floors: 49 and 50. Sayomi tilted her head, curious of the maneuver. “Why two floors?” she asked.

The man looked over his shoulder at her, raising his eyebrows at her question.

“It’s a secret floor. For the Mafia and our hired assassins. Just above the 50th floor.”

Sayomi’s mouth formed a round O, clearly impressed by the revelation of a secret floor. Just how influential are these people? They have their own floor and everything.

The two of them waited in silence for the remainder of the time, only moving when the elevator arrived at their floor.

Sayomi followed the man out into the hallway ahead, mindlessly reading the different room numbers as they passed her by. 5102… 5104… 5106… 5108-

“Alright Ms Zoldyck, this will be your room for the time being. Inside you’ll find a uniform along with any other supplies you’ll be needing while we’re here. I’ll come back in about half an hour to get you started on the job, so in the meantime please change into the uniform and get settled.” And with that, the man handed Sayomi a room key while explaining how the elevators were locked, meaning she couldn’t escape.

Accepting the room key, Sayomi hummed in agreement before entering her new room.

Room # 5110

Two steps into the room, her heart raced with excitement at the view in front of her.

The room itself wasn’t the impressive part, being a small square with a bed and bathroom. It was the view from the large window in front of her that made her exclaim in delight.

Having grown up on Kukuroo mountain with only the occasional trip to the outside world, the vast city and its bustling streets made Sayomi swoon, her heart restless for a chance to explore the beautiful city.

Noticing the uniform hanging in the closet as mentioned, Sayomi made quick work to change into the fresh set of clothes, ditching her rags.

It was a classic black suit with black dress shoes, matching the clothes of the men that had accompanied her here from Meteor City. The change in outfits restricted the usual placement of her band of needles, and she opted to tuck the band into her pocket instead.

A knock on her door interrupted the silence, as the man asked through the door if she was ready to begin the job.

She replied with a “yes”, moving to sling her katana over her shoulder as she exited the room.

☾ iv.

“When we don’t have specific targets for you, this will be your job.” the man started to say.

Sayomi stared at the walkie talkie now in her hands.

“You’ll be staged as a bodyguard for the VIPs that visit the hotel. It’s nothing hard, just a deal we keep with the management to keep our floor up here a secret” he continued.

She nodded in understanding. A bodyguard, huh. Maybe I’ll at least get some action this way.

“Ah, right. The walkie talkie I gave you will notify you of incoming VIP clients. All you have to do is accompany them with your assigned team to their room, where you’ll stand guard either inside or outside. 50 percent of the time the VIP will have a few assassins after them, but the other 50 percent stay and go with no problems.” He started walking back up the hall to the elevators.

Sayomi followed closely behind, asking a question once she stepped into the elevator. “For those 50 percent- the ones targeted by assassins, I mean. Is it fair game to kill their attackers?”

The man laughed out loud. “But of course, disposing of any attackers would only mean a safer client. Do as you wish as long as the VIP’s safety is ensured.”

The assassin blood that ran through Sayomi’s veins was bleeding through. It seemed her inevitable instinct to kill would always resurface, no matter how sympathetic or innocent she tried to become.

Back down at the hotel’s lobby once again, Sayomi now blended in with the numerous other bodyguards dressed in black suits.

Sayomi’s escort pointed towards the main entrance of the hotel. “Ms Zoldyck, you’ll be stationed with Team 3 over by the fountain right outside. Introduce yourself or don’t, just stand posted until your team is dispatched through the walkie talkies.”

Before she could even respond, the man took off walking back to the elevators, leaving Sayomi to find her way to her post.

Wow, alright then.

Sneering at the man’s abrupt exit, Sayomi tied back her hair, taking a second to compose herself before walking out to the fountain to join her team.

Finding the line of bodyguards quite literally stationed in front of the fountain, the man’s instructions echoed in her head as she decided on the latter, keeping from introducing herself.

The team now had 6 members with the addition of Sayomi, and the others took a moment to size up their new member.

Sayomi did likewise, glancing down the row of suit-clad bodyguards. There were 4 men and 1 other woman, all of them looking to be around their mid-20s.

Talk about a let down, they’re all at best D-ranked assassins.

Unimpressed at the lack of powerful auras amongst her new allies, Sayomi’s shoulders slumped as she turned to face the busy street with a lack of enthusiasm.

Figuring out a way to pass the time, Sayomi settled for analyzing the hundreds of people that walked by. She was curious about the so-called urban culture she had heard so much about from Ayame back in Meteor City.

Though Sayomi wasn’t completely detached from society, she had still spent a large portion of her life either trapped in the mansion or, recently, in Meteor City. This being, she was fascinated by the little things, such as the different types of clothing people in the city wore, or the billboards and neon signs that began to light up the streets as evening fell upon Yorknew City.

I wonder what I’d look like if I wore a dress like that… nah but it’s probably impossible to run in anyway.

Looking down at the modest outfit she wore and back to the woman passing by wearing a rather revealing dress, she pouted.

It must be nice to be able to enjoy the nightlife in a city like this. Maybe when i’m older-

The static sounds of her team’s walkie talkies cut through her thoughts, finally dispatching their assignment for the next few days.

“Team 3. VIP client Adachi Yuto is arriving in less than one minute. The vehicle is a black Maserati and the assigned room will be 4823. Current stay will be 3 days.”

In unison, Sayomi and the rest of the team straightened their postures, now on alert while they awaited the VIP’s arrival.

Right on time at about a minute later, a black Maserati pulled up to the curb in front of the team. A few of the members began walking towards the car, and the rest including Sayomi followed suit.

The driver opened the door to the backseat in front of them, and a man looking to be in his early 20s stepped out, thanking the driver.

Must be the VIP.

Her fellow bodyguards started to move almost automatically, forming a circle around the young man. Sayomi quickly found her spot in the formation, walking behind the VIPs right side as the group made their way into the hotel.

Her team seemed to be far experienced, as they walked straight to the elevators without another word or break in formation. It was a silent trip up to floor 48, the VIP remaining occupied on his phone for the entirety of the ride.

Once arriving at room 4823, one of the bodyguards finally spoke, addressing the VIP. “Mr. Yuto, would you like any of us to accompany you inside?”

The VIP politely declined, only looking up from his phone to briefly thank the team for their hard work.

With the VIP turning in for the night, the 3 day timer began for the team. They would take turns in pairs, staying posted outside the VIP’s room, the others going to get rest before switching in once again.

One of the men volunteered to take the first shift, along with the other woman in group, leaving the rest of them to rest until their shifts came around.

Sayomi was paired with one of the remaining men to take the next shift. He was a stocky, sturdy-looking man, most likely one of the older members of the group from the signs of age evident in his facial features.

Agreeing to come back around to the post 15 minutes prior to their shift, the two returned to their rooms on the 51st floor.

☾ iv.

Sayomi flopped down onto her bed upon returning to her room.

Man, this job is getting boring already.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, she decided to get some rest while she could. She had about 4 hours until the shift change, her break being in the most inconvenient time frame.

Sayomi’s shift would be in the dead of night, from 1 am to 5 am.

Not bothering to move underneath the blankets or even untie her hair, Sayomi fell into a deep sleep with her legs dangling off the side of the bed. Her mind and body were both exhausted from the day’s past events, and all she wanted now was to move on from what’d already occurred.

Because the past isn’t important… right?

That’s what she chose to believe for now, but she also knew in the back of her mind that sooner or later the past would come back and find her.

☾ iv.

to be continued.

a/n: my taglist is open!

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soyforramen · 3 years

Text

28. i’ve been crushing on you for so long and when i get your name in secret santa i decide to write you a love note except there’s a last minute shuffle with people trading and my gift is given to someone else (bonus: ot3! ot3!)

I know this was a prompt sent in by @arsenicpanda, but lord help me if I can find the ask.

“So, who’d you pull for Secret Santa?” Fangs asked.

Betty picked at her sandwich. The reminder of Cheryl’s forced Christmas cheer drove away what little appetite she had. Nervously, she glanced over at Jughead who seemed oblivious to her internal struggle. When he glanced at her, she smiled and shoved her sandwich towards him.

“Veronica,” he mumbled through bites. He shot Betty a glance, a concerned warning that he’d be making sure she ate later.

“Cheryl,” Betty said miserably. “I don’t even know what she’d want.”

While she and her cousin had been on better terms now that the babies were older, it was still rocky. Alice Cooper and Penelope still hadn’t learned how to co-grandparent, forcing Cheryl and Betty to work together to avoid a Hatfield and McCoy situation for every holiday."

“Something red,” Fangs said with a laugh.

“Or stupidly expensive,” Jughead added.

Betty sighed and stared out at nothing in particular. Between finals, editing the school paper, and Christmas shopping for her own family, not to mention the long list of things she hadn’t managed to get to this month, it looked more and more like she wouldn’t be getting much sleep until the New Year.

“If you wanted to stare at me, all you had to do was ask. I'll send you as many pictures as you want.”

Betty’s eyes refocused to find Toni sitting across from her. Her knowing smirk made Betty flush. Suddenly, Toni was all she could see, bright eyes twinkling with mirth and her lips temptingly full and pink. Before Betty could stammer out a response, Jughead laughed and slung his arm across her shoulders.

“Toni, are you flirting with my girlfriend?”

At the reminder of his presence, Betty squirmed and stared onto the old picnic table. Guilt crawled across her skin; after all, Toni hadn’t been the only one flirting lately.

“Have been for a while Jones,” Toni shot back with a wicked grin. “You gonna do something about it?”

Betty held her breath, waiting for an irritated response or jealous sulking, but instead Jughead threw his head back and laughed. The sound shook out the tension that had suddenly risen within in her, and she couldn’t help but join in with him. When she glanced across the table, Toni shot her a wink. This time Betty’s skin crawled with something far different than guilt.

It was the last day of finals, and Cheryl had finally rounded everyone up. A vast array of presents, the wrapping of each a reflection of the giver, was piled in the center of the common room. Betty’s was meticulously wrapped, a hand made bow sitting on top. Archie’s was wrapped with more tape than paper, and Jughead’s had been thrown into a plastic shopping bag. Veronica’s was wrapped in expensive, holographic paper, no doubt wrapped at a chic New York boutique, while Kevin’s sat in a reusable tote that proudly thanked him for his donation.

“Can we get this over with Cheryl,” Veronica said over a latte, “I have an economics test in fifteen minutes.”

“So much for holiday cheer,” Kevin said in a soto voice.

“She’s even wearing Grinch green,” Fangs added.

“Do any of you humbugs have any holiday cheer?” Cheryl asked. She set her hands on her hips as she surveyed them. “No? Then how about we make things extra interesting. We’re all redrawing names.”

A collective groan rang out. Not to be discouraged, Cheryl picked up the first gift, a small package topped off with tinsel.

“Archie, pour vous.”

Before he could take the package, Toni leapt forward and grabbed the package.

“Sorry Red, you'll have to take a rain check,” she apologized, ignoring Cheryl’s harsh look. When Cheryl started to object, Toni said, “You’re the one who changed the rules on us.”

Cheryl huffed. “Fine, I’ll allow it just this once. But anyone else who tries it -“

She let the threat hang in the air before reaching for the next present.

“And this one will be for …”

Betty watched Jughead pack from the comfort of her bed. Outside the snow fell, it’s soft plinking noise lulling her back to sleep.

“Are you sure you have to be in Ohio the whole time?”

He turned, smiling, and kissed her on the forehead. “Jellybean’s been threatening me since August that if I didn’t come up there she’d drag me there herself.”

Betty reached out and grabbed his flannel shirt, pulling him back for another kiss. “I’m sure I can fend her off.”

“I’ll miss you too," he said.

His eyes were so soft when he looked at her like that. It was almost enough for her to volunteer to drive him to his mother’s. Almost. Knowing that they had holidays to spend together years from now made it easy enough to let him leave today. That, and the fact that if she did go she’d miss the twins’ first visit Santa. (And, worse than that, she'd have to hear about it all second hand from Cheryl).

“Why don’t you ask Toni to hangout? She wants to go see that weird alien movie you've been gushing about,” Jughead said, turning back to his luggage.

All of the warm, gooeyness that she’d felt evaporated immediately. Desperate to relieve her discomfort, Betty pulled the blankets tighter around her. There wasn’t really a reason she could give as to why she could say no; after all, they were part of the same friend group and they did get along splendidly. Not to mention the inappropriateness of admitting to one’s long term boyfriend that you had a maddeningly, infuriatingly, deep crush on someone else.

“Maybe," Betty said while she picked at a loose thread.

Then again, maybe spending more time with Toni would cure her of this crush; after all, it had happened with Veronica and they’d settled into a close friendship, one Betty wouldn’t give up for anything.

“Don’t have too much fun while I’m gone,” Jughead said, picking up his bag and helmet.

He kissed her cheek and Betty mumbled out an ‘I love you’ that felt just as real, just as strong as it ever had. A few minutes later Betty’s phone chimed and she saw a text from Toni. Betty groaned and burrowed deeper into her bed.

“It’s fine, really. I can walk. It’s only a few blocks,” Toni repeated as she pulled on her jacket.

Betty glanced out the diner window. Outside, drifts of snow were quickly growing.

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should,” Betty replied.

Despite the tension that had been building up within her, despite the fear (exhilaration? increasing desire?) of being alone in such a close space with Toni, Betty couldn’t let her walk home in this kind of weather. Even if their friendship hadn’t grown deeper over the past week and a half she still would have made the offer.

“Are you worried about me, Cooper?” Toni teased.

“Yes.”

The smile fell from Toni’s face. She searched Betty’s face, and finding what she was looking for, smiled softly at her. It was so similar to the one Jughead had given her before she left that Betty had to look away.

“Alright. Lead the way,” Toni said.

Pop’s bid them a good night on their way out, and they braced themselves for the cold. Impulsively, Betty slipped an arm through Toni’s. After all, they were friends now, closer than they had been. She did this sort of thing with Veronica all the time, though unlike with Veronica, Betty only found her crush on Toni growing deeper.

“So, what are you doing tomorrow?”

Toni shrugged and stepped closer to Betty. “Same thing we always do. Watch reruns of It’s a Wonderful Life with Grandpa and eat too much. You?”

“The Blossoms invited us over for Christmas dinner.”

“Yikes,” Toni said with a slow whistle.

Betty pulled out her keys and opened up the passenger side door. Toni nodded her thanks and sat down. A minute later they were pulling out of Pop’s parking lot.

“I take it you and Cheryl are running interference?” Betty nodded and turned on her blinker. Despite there being no one on the street, it was a ingrained habit that made Toni smile at her.

“Something like that. Mom’s convinced they’re going to cancel last minute to make us host it, so she’s been on a cleaning and decorating rampage this past week. But the kids love that Cheryl’s been staying with us.”

“That’s good. I'm down there. ” Toni pointed to the right side of the Sunnyside Trailer Park. “The most drama we get is when some idiot decides to shoot off firecrackers at 4 am.”

Betty laughed and pulled in next to the trailer surrounded by half rebuild cars. She sat on her hands to keep from rushing out of her car and checking the models of each.

“Well, this is me,” Toni said.

Betty nodded, unsure of what else to say. In her peripheral vision she saw Toni pull something out of her bag.

“You were supposed to get this at Cheryl’s Christmas exchange,” Toni said.

She held out a package with crushed tinsel wrapped around it. When Betty looked closer she realized there were different kinds of vintage cars driving along a highway, each with a pine tree strapped to the top. Glancing at Toni, she gently pulled the paper apart. She almost fainted when she realized what it was.

“Toni, this is too much, I can’t -“

Toni held up a hand. “It’s really nothing. I just got lucky at the thrift store and thought of you.”

Betty stared at the first edition copy of The Secret of the Old Clock, scared to open it least it fall to pieces in her hands. A paper peeked out of the pages, and she gently tugged it out.

‘Merry Christmas Betty!

Thought you might like this (and don’t forget to check the inside cover before you put it under glass).

From,

Your Secret Admirer.’

Upon reading those words, Betty couldn’t help but keep the smile from her face. Something like this was so heartfelt, so personal, she couldn’t help but want to take Toni into her arms and thank her profusely. Opening the book ever so gently, Betty gasped at the author's faded signature.

“Toni -“

Her voice had taken on a tone of anguish. Torn between her loyalty and the sudden tenderness she felt, Betty was at a crossroads without a map.

“Is this about Jughead?” Toni asked. Betty whipped around to look at her. With a gentle smile, Toni wrapped her hands around Betty’s.

“Call your boyfriend.”

Betty squinted at Toni, unsure. Was Toni asking her to choose between them? As if reading her mind, Toni laughed. She slipped the book out of Betty’s hands and set it on the dash.

“Call your boyfriend, Coop.”

Frowning, Betty pulled out her phone and dialed Jughead. With every ring, her heart beat more painfully against her chest.

“Hey, happy Christmas Eve eve,” came Jughead’s sleepy voice.

“Hey, I didn’t wake you did I?”

She could her him shifting in the background. “No, we were just watching the worst movie of all time.”

Jellybean yelled out in the background and there was a scuffling as the phone exchanged hands.

“Break up with him, Betty, he has no taste.”

“Santa’s Slay should never had been made,” came his tinny voice. A second later and his voice was as clear as if he were sitting next to her. “What’s up?”

“Toni’s with me, and -“

“Oh, she finally gave you her Secret Santa gift?”

Betty’s eyes drew together and she glanced over at Toni. “You knew she drew my name?”

“Actually, I drew it, but -“

“You?”

Jughead’s chuckle was throaty and deep. The sound of it sent shivers down her spin in much the same way that Toni’s look did right now. “She wanted to trade, and neither of you have been subtle.”

“But -“ There was a silence that hung in the air as Betty processed what was happening. “Do you mean -“

“I’m secure in our relationship Bets. If you want to, then you have my blessing.”

“Oh.”

He laughed again. “Merry Christmas Betts. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she said, her voice sounding far off.

The line went dead and she sat there, watching the falling snow. It felt as if her chest were going to explode. The world had expanded three times since she’d first picked up the phone and suddenly it felt as if there was a wealth of new possibilities open to her.

“Well?” Toni asked, breaking Betty out of her reverie.

Betty turned to her slowly, taking her all in. Setting her hand on the console between them, Betty slowly leaned in, hesitantly touching her lips to Toni’s.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “I really like my Christmas gift.”

Toni wrapped her hand around Betty’s and tugged her closer. “Than you’re going to have to do a better job of showing it than that.”

#toni/betty/jughead dynamic #ot3 #listen this took far too long to get done #but here's christmas in june

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bowl-of-shortness · 3 years

Text

*SIREN NOISES*

BIG UPDATE TO THE NECROMANCER AU

———————————————————

Songbirds:

Once necromancers started being openly hunted in Atlas and Mistral, Vacuo and Vale decided they needed to step in quietly. They couldn’t let it be known that they supported necromancers, lest they put their populations in danger.

This is where Operation: Songbird comes in.

Operation: Songbird is an operation created to sneak necromancers out of Atlas/Mistral and get them to Vacuo/Vale. ‘Songbirds’ are ordinary looking people who own fleets of stolen Mistral/Atlas ships, they sneak the necromancers out of Atlas/Mistral and into Vale/Vacuo.

Information about Songbirds:

- their names aren’t known

- they look like ordinary people to blend into crowds

- they are highly intelligent individuals

- they, and the operation in general, are very hush-hush

Once Operation: Songbird goes into effect, Atlas and Mistral start throwing necromancers in prison the minute they are even suspected to be a necromancer. Songbirds start learning how to sneak necromancers out of the prisons. Mistral flies it’s necromancer over to Atlas to deal with them.

Songbirds use songs to communicate. Hence the name ‘Songbird’. these songs sound similar to eachother sometimes, making it difficult for Atlas and Mistral to decode them. They can mean anything from ‘Soldiers nearby, stay quiet and hide’ to ‘the ships are here, come to the dock or whistle for us to find you.”

Codes:

Songbird to Songbird:

[Whistling Meanings]

“Get the ships ready” (“ok” whistle from other songbird)

“Songbird in the area, are there any others?” (Other songbird will whistle back to alert the one)

“Prison raid soon” (will whistle at a specific tone afterwards to alert the others of what time it will happen)

“Found on the street” (referring to finding a necromancer not in prison. Other songbirds will whistle for them to send the necromancer with them.)

“Caught! Run!”

“Caught! Help!”

Songbird to Necromancer and likewise:

[Singing, whistling, humming meanings]

“Docks are open, hurry” (a general hum for any necromancers who haven’t been caught by Atlas/Mistral yet)

“Halt.” (Whistle)

“Soldiers, hide.” (Low quick hum)

“Soldiers, run, QUIETLY.” (Low long hum)

“We are here, whistle if you are in a cell.” (A song, imprisoned Necromancer whistles back)

“Ships inspection, hide now.” (A short song)

“Where are you?” (High pitched long hum by necromancer)

“What time do we leave?” (Long low whistle)

There are general tunes that the Necromancers sing, about atlas and mistral, about the long ride to vale/Vacuo, about what they’ve been through, about hope.

Ozpin’s past:

Ozpin was a young Necromancer kid who was raised in an orphanage in Atlas. Once he hit his teen years he was thrown out to fend for himself, and for the longest time he did. Stealing food, stealing money, running around the streets, he even made 2 necromancer friends along the way. These two’s names were Qrow and Glynda. Qrow, a young boy who was shunned out of his family for his type of necromancy and his unwillingness to use it for his family’s crimes. Glynda, a young girl part of Atlas’s rich society who was looking for an escape to be herself. One day unfortunately, The 3 were caught using necromancy to revive a few dead animals and were all thrown into an Atlesian prison.

They would stay there for 3 years and in poor treatment until that fateful night. The night Ozpin heard a songbirds call.

The young Necromancer immediately started whistling back to get the songbirds attention, and the three were soon let out of their respective prison cells. But leaving Atlas would turn out to be no easy task.

While the batch of Necromancers were leaving the prison, they were nearly caught when the prisons sirens went off from the sudden disappearance of necromancers. They managed to escape without getting caught easily, but the next two instances of nearly getting caught would not be as forgiving.

The second time was on the ship dock, a pursuer in disguise as a necromancer attacked at the group of necromancers, specifically Oz, Qrow and Glynda. The pursuer was very quickly killed as to not let that information get back to the government. Oz was left with a permanent scar on the back of his neck from the incident.

The third time would be on the ships while out at sea. Where Atlas’s ship patrol had chosen Oz’s batches ship to inspect. Narrowly escaping the inspection, Oz tried not to panic but ended up breaking down after inspection was over and patrol was gone.

Before they went to sleep, Oz said that he would alert Qrow and Glynda if anything happened while they were sleeping. Oz had never been good at sleeping, such is the way of being a necromancer streetrat, but that night was different. He had never felt fear like this, never had this many questions; “what if we get caught again?” “What if they find us this time?” “Are we going to be okay?” “Where are we going anyway?”. Due to not being able to sleep, Oz wandered the ship, eventually being caught by the ships Songbird and questioned as to why he was up.

He spoke with the songbird for a little while, exchanging stories with the middle aged man. Sometimes Oz would ask a question that the songbird wouldn’t answer, but he understood. Somethings he couldn’t know, it was too much of a risk to everyone’s safety. Living a crime was one thing, but committing a crime like this was something else.

“Where are we going” the young Necromancer asked the middle aged man, exhaustion seeping through in his voice. “Vale.” The songbird answered flatly, Ozpin raised an eyebrow, “what’s it like?”, He looked at Ozpin out of the corner of his eye and smiled “everything you could’ve ever dreamed of. It’s safe, you won’t be hungry, you’ll have a home, it’s lovely.”. Ozpin scoffed “yeah I WISH a place like that existed. But unfortunately the world doesn’t work like that at all.” He spoke that last part with venom in his voice.

The songbird gave the young Necromancer a sad expression, it was understandable why he thought this way, from what the songbird had gotten out of their previous conversation this kid had been fucked over by life over and over and over again. But it didn’t make it any less sad that such a young and bright kid had lost all the light and hope he once had, ripped and torn straight out of him by a cruel and unforgiving world who sought only to kill him.

“I promise you, I’m not lying.” The songbird said, Ozpin didn’t respond. “Go get some sleep, boy, you’ll need it for tomorrow.” Ozpin turned around “right...”

He tried, he really did, but the panic and fear kept him awake like never before. Anytime he’d get close to falling asleep, the images of the prison, the pursuer, the patrol guards, would flash through his mind and spread unsavory thoughts like wildfire. By the time the sun had risen and the ship had come to a stop at the Valian dock, Ozpin was exhausted but At the same time, wide awake.

“Holy shit you look like hell Ozzy...!” Qrow gaped, Glynda quickly turned around to see Oz with dark bags under his eyes “You didn’t sleep a bit, did you?! You moron!” She scolded. “Thanks guys” Oz laughed tiredly. They walked off the ship and into a new world, “Listen up!” The songbird called out, “any young Necromancers will be heading with me into the city to get Situated in an apartment room, find your friends now or forever hold your peace.” He finished. “I guess we’re living together now” Oz smiled “UUUUGGGGHHHH, I can’t BELIEVE I have to live with YOU two.” Glynda dramatically and sarcastically said “HEY WE’RE NOT THAT BAD!” Qrow shot back.

When they got to the apartment complex and up to their apartment, the three were amazed. “What is all this stuff?” Qrow spoke, astonished “I don’t know, I used to see it in my parents house but I never used any of it.” Glynda said as she searched the room. Oz didn’t say anything as he walked to one of the rooms and flopped down on the bed. He flipped over and stared at the ceiling. “I’m safe....” he thought. He thought some more about that phrase. “My friends....are safe.” He smiled a little at that thought. “Everyone on the ship.....is safe” he thought some more until, “I’m...........safe?” And for the first time in a very long time, he broke down into tears.

Oz hadn’t known how long he cried for, but before he knew it, he was waking up 2 days later, staring at the ceiling.

What the fuck is a vacuum cleaner and why is it so goddamn loud?:

Ozpin, Glynda, and Qrow, understandably because of their previous living situation, have no idea how to use any appliances. Let alone know what they are.

- Oz is specifically fascinated with dimmer lights, gas stoves, and microwaves

- Glynda likes TV’s, Oven’s, and thermostats

- Qrow is just fascinated with anything that glows

- All of them Hate the vacuum cleaner

- All of them are fascinated with the concept of a sink and faucet

- they are all taught how to use these things by and adult neighbor who has been in the apartment complex for a long time. As to not let them accidentally burn the apartment complex down.

- “Ah I remember my first time in Vale too.”

- they get used to it eventually.

#rwby necromancer au

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