#''There's no path back'' and ''It looks like rain'' were both posted late on March 18th

[cannibalthoughts]

Today is the one year anniversary of posting my first fics :D

#''There's no path back'' and ''It looks like rain'' were both posted late on March 18th #though ''There's no path back'' ended up timestamped for the 19th despite being posted first. No idea why #Ideally I would have had an update to celebrate but. #Though my job and Duolingo are going well haha

[veliseraptor]

ius in bello

guess what I needed to do today while I was wrestling with brain weasels was write gratuitously angsty fic! based off this post by @winepresswrath​ because I love to suffer, I did write all of this in one day so like. who knows what’s happening

content warning: character death with no fix (but feel free to imagine one down the line! there probably is one!)

--

“He’s late,” Jiang Cheng growls. Jin Ling is crying, and a-jie bounces him gently in her arms and hushes him.

“It takes time to travel,” she says. “And you know a-Xian. He might’ve gotten distracted by something or other and set out late.”

Jiang Cheng scofffs. “Distracted. This isn’t like skipping class at the Cloud Recesses, he needs to take this seriously-”

“A-Cheng,” a-jie says, with that tone of not-quite-reproach that always shuts him up. She moves over toward him, still rocking Jin Ling, who at least has stopped crying. “It’ll be all right. He’ll be here.”

“He’d better,” Jiang Cheng mutters, hands locked behind his back. If Wei Wuxian abandons them now - disappoints a-jie-

He’ll march to the Burial Mounds and strangle him with Zidian himself.

The thought steals into his head - what if he ran into some kind of trouble on the road - and he dismisses it brutally. Wei Wuxian isn’t helpless.

“Where’s that husband of yours,” he says. A-jie gives him her most patient smile.

“A-Cheng, stop fussing.”

“I’m not fussing.”

A-jie shakes her head, but fondly, and adjusts Jin Ling so she can reach up and touch the side of Jiang Cheng’s face, the way she has since he was a child. Jiang Cheng blows out a breath and does not say this needs to work, this needs to work, a-jie, he needs to hand over the Yin Tiger Seal and come home, but what if he refuses-

He can’t. Surely not. Not after seeing a-Ling and a-jie. It’ll be fine. It’ll be fine.

But he can’t quite quash the dread building in his stomach, throbbing like a second heartbeat.

Jiang Cheng hears rapid footsteps approaching and turns, a finally, took you long enough on his lips, but it isn’t Wei Wuxian. A Jin disciple he doesn’t recognize, face pale, bows to them both and then says, “Jiang-furen, would you come with me?”

Jiang Cheng tenses. “Why?” he asks bluntly, not caring if it is rude.

“Jin-furen wishes to speak with you,” the disciple says, but he stumbles over the words, and he is lying, Jiang Cheng is sure he is lying, but why. The second heartbeat thuds harder.

“What’s going on,” he demands, and then, because he just has a feeling, because it would be just like him to cause some kind of trouble, “did Wei Wuxian do something?”

Somehow the disciple goes paler. Jiang Cheng takes a sharp step forward, fists clenching. “Just tell me what-”

“A-Li,” says Jin Zixuan’s voice, and Jiang Cheng hasn’t ever heard his brother-in-law sound like that. His stomach plunges toward his heels and ricochets back up again. Jin Zixuan is striding quickly toward them, Suihua clenched in one fist.

There is blood on his robes.

A-jie gasps, her hold on Jin Ling tightening, and he starts to cry. “A-Xuan,” she says, voice sharp with alarm, and Jiang Cheng takes a lurching step forward, but he isn’t moving like he is hurt-

“A-Li,” Jin Zixuan says again, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know-”

“Jin-gongzi,” Jiang Cheng says. His voice sounds far away. “Didn’t know what? What happened?” On the tip of his tongue, where is Wei Wuxian, but he can’t speak it, doesn’t dare speak it.

Jin Zixuan’s eyes flicker toward him. “An ambush,” he says. “There was an ambush, in Qiongqi Path.”

The dread isn’t a heartbeat anymore. It is a void, swallowing his insides. A-jie’s mouth opens and she draws in a soft breath. Jin Ling cries louder. “An ambush,” she echoes faintly.

Jiang Cheng takes a slow breath in and says, “what ambush? Of who? Speak clearly,” and he is aware that he really shouldn’t be speaking to Jin Zixuan, Jin-zongzhu’s heir, like this, but at the moment he can’t care because what he really wants to do is grab the front of his robes and ask why isn’t Wei Wuxian here yet, Jin-gongzi, tell me-

Jin Zixuan turns toward him and says, “Wei Wuxian has been killed.”

He knew it was coming. Knew, maybe, since the disciple came in here to try to pull a-jie away. It still hits him like a blow to the chest that should send him flying across the room. Next to him, a-jie says, very faintly, “oh.”

Then shakes her head. “No,” she says. “No, it isn’t true. You’re mistaken.”

“A-Li…”

“I said no,” she says. She clutches Jin Ling like a lifeline, his crying rising to a desperate wail. “It’s not-” She turns to look at him, eyes wide and shining and desperate, and says, “a-Cheng-”

His voice seems stuck in his throat somewhere. His feet are rooted to the ground. Wei Wuxian has been killed.

It’s not right. It’s not true. Everyone thought so when he vanished for three months, nobody said it but they believed it, but he didn’t die then, the Burial Mounds couldn’t kill him so how could some ambush-

“Who,” he grates out, finally. “Who arranged to ambush Wei Wuxian on the way to his nephew’s hundred day celebration?”

Jin Zixuan hesitates. Jiang Cheng heaves a breath in and Zidian crackles. It isn’t an answer, that silence, but it is.

“A-Cheng,” a-jie says, voice faint. He turns toward her and she thrusts Jin Ling in his direction. He takes him automatically, though it always feels like he’s going to do something wrong and hurt him when he holds him, so small, so fragile. A-jie looks stricken, pale, and it calls back a memory of the three of them standing in the rain, a-jie asking with a trembling voice what happened.

Now as then, she sinks to the ground, and weeps; now as then, Jiang Cheng stands, numb and helpless, though now there is a baby in his arms.

Wei Wuxian has been killed.

He sees him walking away in Yiling, stride hitching when a-jie calls his name but not looking back. Did he say goodbye? He can’t remember.

There’s blood on Jin Zixuan’s robes.

He wonders whose.

**

Jiang Cheng drags the story out in bits and pieces in a private room. Jin Ling is with his nurse; a-jie didn’t want to let him go but she could barely stand. Jin Zixuan tries to send her away, but she just looks at him and even with her eyes red-rimmed and sobs still hitching her shoulders he looks away, giving up.

There isn’t much to say. Jin Zixuan heard that Jin Zixun had gone to Qiongqi Path with a contingent of fighters. He’d gone immediately and arrived in the middle of a fight: the Ghost General holding off a small army of warriors and Wei Wuxian squaring off with Jin Zixun, who insisted that Wei Wuxian had cursed him.

Two arrows from Jin bows took him in the chest.

Jin Zixun’s sword finished the job.

“His body,” Jiang Cheng says. His voice doesn’t sound like his own.

Jin Zixuan pauses, then says, “the Ghost General took it - took him away.”

Wen Ning, Jiang Cheng thinks, and then, Wen Qing, the most talented doctor in the world, maybe she can do something, maybe she is doing something, right now, maybe-

A-jie curls in on herself, clutching her dress, and starts crying afresh. Jiang Cheng sits down next to her and she folds against him, turning her face into his shoulder.

Did your father order this, Jiang Cheng wants to ask. Are you telling the truth, that you didn’t know, was this part of the plan all along, he was unreachable in the Burial Mounds so he had to be lured out and you used Jin Ling to do it, but all he can do is stare at Jin Zixuan, who stares back, looking lost. Like he wants to step forward and offer comfort but doesn’t know how.

“A-Xian,” a-jie says, and again, “a-Xian,” like she can call him back, the way she always could, when no one else could reach him Wei Wuxian still listened to his shijie.

Jiang Cheng realizes that he is crying.

“Go,” he says, and doesn’t care that his voice is harsh. “This is a Jiang Sect matter.” It’s rude. It’s undiplomatic. There is a marriage alliance between them. Jin Zixuan is the father of Jiang Cheng’s nephew.

But at the moment all he can think of are Jin arrows and Jin Zixun’s sword, and he is angry. He is so angry.

Jin Zixuan opens his mouth. He closes it. He leaves.

“A-Ling,” a-jie whispers. “He was going to...he never met a-Ling.” Jin Ling. Jin Rulan.

Jiang Cheng holds his sister and wonders absently who is going to tell Lan Wangji.

**

Jin Zixun comes swaggering back to Jinlintai bragging about how he defeated the Yiling Laozu. A-jie looks at him like she could kill him with her bare hands.

Jiang Cheng lets go of his cup before it shatters and says, “such a demonstration of bravery, to bring a small army to attack one man.”

Jin Zixun looks at him with perfect Jin disdain. “He had his dog, that Ghost General.”

Jiang Cheng’s jaw spasms. “Indeed. And there were no other ways to deal with this complaint of yours other than attempted murder?”

A mutter of voices behind him. Jiang Cheng looks at no one but Jin Zixun, whose eyes narrow, then relax.

“In the absence of a sect leader to petition for restitution,” he says, “what could I do but address the problem directly? Wei Wuxian made clear that he didn’t consider himself bound by the codes between sects, and that he answered to no one.” His eyebrows rise. “Isn’t that right, Jiang-zongzhu?”

He is now expelled from the Yunmeng Jiang Sect. From now on, the Yunmeng Jiang Sect and Wei Wuxian will cut all ties with each other.

Jiang Cheng says nothing. There is nothing he can say.

He warned Wei Wuxian, didn’t he? Warned him that he couldn’t protect him if he continued protecting the Wens. He cut him out of the sect to protect the sect, because Wei Wuxian told him to, and he listened, and told himself that Wei Wuxian could protect himself, that the Yiling Laozu wasn’t in need of assistance and had made clear he didn’t want it.

But when did Wei Wuxian ever ask for help? When did he ever ask for anything?

His brother died in Qiongqi Path, and there is nothing he can do, because he disowned him months ago.

He doesn’t even have a body to bury.

**

He and a-jie go together to Yiling.

Jiang Cheng tried to tell a-jie not to. Tried to tell her to stay behind. She pretended to listen, nodded, and then ignored him and continued packing food for the journey anyway.

The barrier is still there. Jiang Cheng starts to raise Zidian to break it, then realizes that if he does there’s no one to erect one again, and his anger over the fact that Wei Wuxian died for the people here wars with the understanding that if they die now then it will have been utterly in vain.

So he waits, standing with a-jie, who is very still and very quiet.

Someone does come eventually. It’s Wen Ning, and he looks at them on the other side of the barrier, and for a moment Jiang Cheng thinks he’ll walk away without saying anything. Instead he bows to them both. “Jiang-furen,” he says. “Jiang-zongzhu.”

Jiang Cheng swallows hard, past the lump in his throat. “Is,” he says, and then can’t.

Wen Ning’s mouth is set. His eyes are black. But he doesn’t look like a mad dog or a Ghost General.

“It’ll let you through,” he says, finally. “You can come up.”

A-jie sticks close by him, silent. Her eyes dart through the dead trees. She holds the basket she brought tighter. But she never hesitates.

The village looks the same as Jiang Cheng remembers it, or mostly. Men past their prime, the elderly, Half-starved remnants with nowhere to go, their only protector gone. Jiang Cheng thinks bleakly that they’ll be gone soon as well, unless someone interferes.

Someone. Coward.

Wary eyes follow them as they pass. A-jie does pause, for a moment, with a sharp little breath. Her lips press together. When she catches up she says, voice low, “you didn’t say it was like this. These people…”

Jiang Cheng says nothing, his eyes fixed on Wen Ning’s back, who is leading them toward the cave, Demon Subduing Cave, Wei Wuxian’s lair of a home. “Jiejie,” he calls.

Wen Qing emerges, holding herself straight and proud as ever even in clothes that have clearly been mended several times. She locks eyes with him, expressionless, and then looks at a-jie. Her face softens, very slightly.

“A-Ning,” she says, eyes moving back to Jiang Cheng. “Would you help Granny with a-Yuan?”

The look Wen Ning gives his sister plainly says that he knows he’s being sent away. Jiang Cheng’s fist flexes on Sandu but it feels more like a reflex than anything else. A-Yuan.

A-Yuan, why do you hug any leg you see? No, don’t put the hand you touched dirt with into your mouth.

His eyes sting.

“Jiejie,” Wen Ning says.

A-jie, abruptly, moves. She walks forward, one measured step at a time, and holds out her basket, chin lifted. “It isn’t much,” she says. “I would have brought more, if I’d realized your need, but at least it is something.”

Wen Qing’s eyebrows furrow and after a moment she takes the basket and lifts the lid. Jiang Cheng knows what is in it: soup, of course, but also fresh fruit, and some bao. Wen Qing lowers it again.

“We don’t need gifts,” she says, which is the stupidest thing Jiang Cheng thinks he’s ever heard.

A-jie’s mouth trembles slightly before it steadies. “It is a thank you,” she says. “For...for looking after a-Xian.”

Wen Qing’s eyes go to Jiang Cheng again, and then she turns to face a-jie and bows.

“Thank you,” she says. It pointedly does not seem to include him, and Jiang Cheng’s chest aches. But he doesn’t - can’t - say anything. A-jie bows back, matching the depth, and his chest aches worse.

Wen Qing and a-jie straighten at the same time, and look at each other, and Wen Qing seems to relax very slightly. “You want to see him,” she says. It isn’t a question.

A-jie nods, silent. Jiang Cheng manages a rough, “yes.” It’s the first word he’s spoken, he realizes, since crossing the barrier.

Wen Qing nods once and turns. “We weren’t certain if anyone would come,” she says. “So we held our own funeral.”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t know if the words are meant to cut, but they do. A-jie flinches and for a moment Jiang Cheng is furiously, white-hot angry with Wen Qing, but a-jie puts her hand on his arm and says, “thank you.”

Wen Qing glances toward her and after a moment says, “this was his home.”

No, Jiang Cheng wants to say, No, it wasn’t, Lotus Pier was home, it was always home.

In the absence of a sect leader to petition for restitution, what could I do but confront the problem directly?

Wei Wuxian’s memorial tablet is a rough and modest thing. Jiang Cheng stares at it, eyesight blurring.

It still doesn’t feel right. Doesn’t feel possible. There’s a trick, some, some sort of-

No. There isn’t. His brother - his brother - is gone.

You should have saved him, he wants to snarl at Wen Qing. Why couldn’t you save him, but he could as easily direct those words at himself.

He can’t stay. He stumbles out of the cave like he’s drunk, chest heaving, and crashes to his knees next to some sort of pond-

Lotuses, he realizes. It’s a lotus pond. A lotus pond in the Burial Mounds. Beautiful and green and familiar.

That’s the thing that breaks him, that has him sobbing on his knees in a dead landscape where Wei Wuxian managed to carve out life.

That’s over now, and it’s not coming back.

#a wild fic appeared #jiang cheng #jiang yanli #character death cw #woof this one is angsty #been a while since i went this hard on the angst without having a fix! #i guess i just like making jiang cheng big miserable #the untamed #the sad queer cultivators show #*points at text post* blame op it's not my fault

[groovegalaxxxy5]

The Art School AU nobody asked for

I’ve had this idea for an emercury AU fic kicking around in my head for a while now, but I have so many other projects on my plate rn and nowhere near enough time or energy to write it. So instead I’m just gonna post all the deets in the hopes that one day I’ll be able to come back and actually do something with it.

Emercury Art School AU Summary:

“Emerald Sustrai may have managed to get into the dance program at one of the most prestigious art schools on Remnant, but she has one big issue – after just one year of study, she’s barely managing to stay afloat even with two part-time jobs and her grades have been suffering for it. Fortunately for her, her school offers extra credit to any students who are cast in the school’s yearly exhibition performance.  Unfortunately, this year’s production’s theme is “passion” and the only spot up for audition for sophomores in the dance program is for a couples’ dance performance based on said theme.   

Enter one Mercury Black—a fellow dance student with a reputation unsavory enough to overshadow his considerable talent, and quite possibly the last person on Remnant Emerald would ever want to work with…He also happens to literally be the only other person she can find to pair up with her for the show.  Somehow, improbably, the unlikely duo actually make a pretty good team once they finally start to work out their differences, but as they perfect their routine for the big audition, Emerald finds herself in a whole new predicament: She may have set out to steal the show, but if she’s not careful she might just end up getting her heart stolen in the process...”

So yeah…as you can see, the basic premise is that Em and Merc are classmates at this school for the arts, but both of them are having trouble earning passing marks in this one foundation course they both need to graduate—Emerald because she is completely on her own and has to work a lot to pay for her living expenses and studio fees and stuff even though she has a pretty decent scholarship, and Mercury because he keeps really odd hours and misses class quite a bit for unexplained reasons.  Noticing that she’s struggling even though she is a gifted dancer, one of Emerald’s teachers suggests that she try out for the big show that their school puts on every school year, since anyone who makes the cut receives a bunch of extra credit and each faculty also gives a grant to the students who they judge to have put on one of the top three best performances.  The problem is, there are only a limited number of spots up for audition for each graduating year of each concentration course due to time and resource restraints, and this year’s 2nd year dance spot happens to be billed as a couples’ performance.

Emerald hits up everybody she can think of, but they're all too busy or can't commit to the project for other reasons. Pretty much out of options at that point, she’s just about ready to give up when she has a chance encounter with a classmate, one Mercury Black, after school.  Through some sort of clerical error they managed to book the exact same practice studio for exactly the same time, and since they both really need the extra practice time and neither one is willing to back down, they end up sharing the room for a few hours.  When they do, Emerald is really surprised to find out that Mercury is actually a really talented dancer, she just never noticed before because even though they have some classes together he comes in very irregularly.  After a long, sleepless night contemplating doing something really, really ill-advised, she ends up approaching him at school the next day to propose that they team up and audition for the big show together since they appear to both be failing the same class and need the credit really bad, and to her surprise he agrees rather easily.

Thus, the two of them become reluctant accomplices. However, once they start working out the choreography together, they just can’t seem to see eye-to-eye on anything, which doesn’t bode very well for their performance considering that it’s supposed to embody the show’s theme. Emerald is more of a ballet dancer, while Mercury is more of a street dancer, having started out with breaking and had almost zero classical training before starting school.  After a while (with a lot of practice and a LOT of unsolicited intervention from their nosy friends) our two favorite mayhem children finally start to bond and find some common ground, and naturally, lighthearted romantic hijinks ensue and sparks fly between the unlikely duo as they struggle to cooperate and put together a passionate couples’ dance good enough to get into the final production.

The Supporting Cast:

Em’s peeps -- Cinder (in the class above, sort of her mentor and was the one who encouraged her to apply to school in the first place), Weiss (met in freshman year, in the same ballet, jazz and contemporary classes this year, snarking buddies), Blake (ended up in most of the same classes together this year), Coco (upperclassman in the design course, loves dressing Em in different outfits and often forces her to stand in as a house model for her when she needs to work late into the night to meet a deadline)

Merc’s peeps -- Sun (met in class in freshman year, breaking and sparring buddies), Neptune (met thru Sun, in pop class together this year), Scarlet (ditto), Blake (in a few classes together, waits tables at the same diner where he works), Yang (met at a stunt training camp the Summer of freshmen year, waits tables at the same restaurant, fellow gym rat and occasional sparring partner)

Salem -- Headmistress of the most prestigious arts school on Remnant; has a bitter love-hate (mostly hate) relationship with her ex

Oz -- The headmistress’ ex-husband who runs a very successful Circe du Soleil type show and recruits a lot of his performers from her graduating classes

Glinda -- Chair of the dance department; Contemporary and ballroom dance instructor; is so so weary of her faculty’s incessant bickering

Winter -- Ballet instructor; came up in a rigid traditional Atlesian ballet school and generally looks down on all the other dancing disciplines and their instructors (”What they do can BARELY be described as dancing”); wishes the dance department were as disciplined as the music department

Qrow -- Jazz and tap dance instructor; doesn’t think that what his sister does really counts as actual dancing; jazz hands, rain hands and double dream hands and he’s dead serious about em

Raven -- Acrobatic and contortion instructor; thinks jazz hands look really stupid, just like Qrow and his corny, goofy ass dancing; was actually trained extensively in traditional Mistralian Highlands step dancing from childhood alongside her brother and used to perform internationally before switching disciplines

Tai Yang -- Hip-hop and pop dance instructor; specializes in pop and lock; Raven's ex; constantly catching strays from Qrow and Raven’s feud; just happy to still have a job tbh

Arthur & Tyrian -- Co-chairs of the theater department; Arthur teaches classical acting and Tyrian teaches method acting and they both think the other doesn’t teach “real acting”; somehow their department is actually really popular and all the students love the yearly musical theater production, which is the only time they ever seem to agree on anything

Hazel -- Long-suffering theater production instructor; works really hard to keep things running smoothly in the background despite the department heads' antics; hates the headmistress’s ex with a burning passion

Ironwood -- Chair of the music department; runs his department like a well-oiled machine and has put the fear of god into all his students; has won the national marching band championships seven years running

All the other students are in various departments at their school—e.g. Ruby plays the sax, Yang and Jaune are both acting majors, Oscar plays the cello, Nora and Ren play the tuba and the erhu respectively, Pyrrha is a triple threat etc.

A bunch of random plot points:

-Merc, Em and their friends are all in the same foundation classes together and the two of them start off vaguely aware of one another mostly owing to the fact that all their friends are friends, but they don’t really know each other (…or DO they??? *DUN DUNNN DUNNNNN*)

-Most of the faculty at their school can’t stand each other and the different departments have been engaged in bitter rivalries for years but somehow they all work really well together because at the end of the day they’re all professionals who are good at their jobs

-All of their friends are convinced that they’re secretly dating or hooking up at the very least, because they suddenly start hanging around each other a lot, holing up in the practice studio together until all hours of the night and showing up school at the same time the next morning and are constantly snipping at each other whenever they interact.  Merc’s squad is actually v supportive and (against his wishes) are doing their very best to try and help their boy lay down the mac (Sun: “Hey Merc! Thanks for letting me drive the convertible last weekend!😉👍”) , even though they all generally acknowledge that he’s way out of his league and is headed down the path to utter destruction. Meanwhile, Em’s friends are pretty appalled by her abysmally low standards (Weiss: “Emerald, you’re dating down....WAY down.🙁”) and think that shes going thru some kind of self-destructive phase or something.  They’re convinced she’s about to have her life absolutely ruined by that one smirky fuccboi type from their grade who has super sus habits and “reeks of criminality” (also Weiss).

-Almost everybody including most of his friends are convinced that Mercury is doing something really, really shady for cash on the low because he keeps super odd hours, misses class a lot and is always showing up with all these bizarre, unexplained injuries.  In reality, Em finds out that it’s all because he’s been training as a stunt-man outside of school and works a lot of weird hours at his part-time job so that he can pay off his prosthetics, finance his extra courses and pay for his own living expenses, etc. Although he actually was involved in some serious criminal activity in the past, he’s been trying his best to stay on the straight and narrow ever since he finally cut ties with his scumbag dad, and now just works a lot of nights and weekends as a short order cook at the local greasy spoon.

-Once Mercury realizes that Emerald is like...constantly on the brink of starvation because she’s a destitute vagabond baby but has too much pride to ask for help, he starts subtly bringing her leftovers from work, which she grudgingly accepts (because he owes her for putting him onto the whole extra credit thing, so it’s not really charity...definitely NOT because she is extremely susceptible to offerings of food and her partner also happens to be a surprisingly good cook).  

-Cinder is in the year above them and has known Emerald since they were in the foster system together as kids. She’s a prodigy at ballet and also a very accomplished acrobat and contortionist (as in, like, can easily shoot an arrow into a bullseye with just her feet while her legs are bent backwards all the way over the top of her head and stuff).  At some point she sits in on one of Em and Merc’s rehearsal sessions and ends up dragging the hell out of them both for being way too stiff and exhibiting almost zero chemistry despite the “obnoxiously obvious sexual tension” between them.  She basically ends up barking directions at them until they alter their choreo a bunch and finally start to look somewhat like an actual couple ("For fuck's sake... Lift her like she's the most precious thing you've ever laid eyes on and you're about to make sweet love to her, you idiot, not like she's a frigging sack of potatoes you're bringing home to peel!!!" "This man is supposed to be the moon to your stars...if you don't loosen up and melt into his arms like your soul is on fire, I will flip ALL this shit over and burn this wretched studio to the ground with both of you trapped inside!!!" ), after which things gradually start to get all awkward and messy between them because they start thinking about one another differently.  

-They get into a bunch of compromising situations by virtue of the fact theatre and dance people are just kinda naked  a lot and don’t care.  At various points in the story their friends will walk in on the two of them in some sort of really eyebrow raising situation, get the complete wrong idea  and run away, which in turn makes the two of them start to feel awkward as hell toward each other.

-Coco forces them to wear matching outfits that she made just for their performance.

-Their act ends up being this spicy contemporary couples’ dance that incorporates a lot of elements of acrobatic dance, breaking and ballet, essentially blending together both of their unique dance backgrounds.

 This story idea has absolutely nothing to do with canon and Remnant is a lot like modern-day Earth with some exceptions, so there are no semblances etc. There’s no antagonist; in fact everyone around them is generally supportive and wants them to succeed--the main conflict comes from Emerald and Mercury only having three brain cells between them and not being used to caring about someone else in a lovey-dovey sort of way. I got the idea when I was watching dance videos online and started remembering all those cheesy dance-themed teen movies from the 90’s and early 2000’s.  It’s pretty much just a wholesome little meet-cute/will-they-won’t-they type school romance in that same vein, where Em and Merc are forced to team up out of necessity, start to fall for each other and then have to deal with all the awkwardness that ensues...all with a bunch of help from their extremely eccentric, meddling-ass friends who are all convinced that the two of them are either already dating or about to be and are trying to keep them both from getting their hearts broken lol

 Whew! Guess that’s about it for now...I’d like to try and flesh this one out more and maybe even publish it as a legit fic one day, but first I’ve gotta get back to work on *signal lost*

#rwby #emercury #emerald sustrai #mercury black #fic ideas

[puckmeupfam]

Locked Down | Tyson Jost

Word Count: 1969 Note: This is my first time writing non-headcanon-y fanfic, but Tyson is my... exactly my type so here goes nothing

It was probably a mistake to bring your boyfriend back to your hometown for the holidays. You knew this. It wasn’t that you were worried that your parents wouldn’t like him. No, Tyson puts his hand on the small of your back and leans in to check on you randomly throughout the day which makes your mom give you a knowing look. And his mom raised him to go in the kitchen, put on an apron, and ask to be put to work - even if he was hopeless. Tyson was any parent’s dream boyfriend. The problem was that your family, and specifically your female relatives, had the tendency to be a bit overbearing… especially when it came to your love life.

“(Y/N), can you come help me in the kitchen for a minute,” your mother called. Your hand was in Tyson’s and your legs were intertwined so he also rose to follow you. “Not you Tyson, dear, you just relax,” she said. You looked back at Tyson to see him shrug and go back to watching the cheesy Netflix movie. Your fuzzy sock covered feet shuffled to the kitchen where your mom was waiting. “What do you need,” you asked as you entered to which your mom replied with a belabored sigh. “I don’t actually need anything,” she gave you a duh look which made you feel more like you were back in middle school than a grown adult talking with your mother. “I just wanted to talk to you about that boyfriend of yours,” your mom said with a smirk. Now you were the one sighing. You move to slouch against the counter as your mom keeps talking.

“I think we were all just wondering when you were going to lock that down.”

“Mother,” you gasped. This made that damn smirk on her face grow. You and Tyson had been dating for less than a year, you had met his family during the playoffs and then again when you visited him in the off-season and the holidays had been his turn. All you had wanted was a peaceful trip. You had even thought it might be the best holiday season yet because you would have Tyson with you, but of course, your family had to meddle. He was the first boyfriend you had ever officially brought home. And ever since you were in high school there were always relative and family friends asking if you had a boyfriend yet or if you would be willing to go out with Janet’s “very successful” grandson. 

“Mom, we aren’t there yet,” you started, “we’re young and we haven’t been together long and Tyson has hockey.” Your mom rolled her eyes and batted her hand as if none of that mattered. “(Y/N), he’s a wonderful boy and all I’m saying is that your grandma is getting older and you know she would want to go to your wedding…” she told you. “Are you really trying to guilt me into getting married? This is a new low” you huffed. Your mom was sadly not one to stop pressing. “My veil is upstairs and, I mean, you really don’t want to wait too long.” You determinedly spun around to march out of the kitchen. As you reentered the living room you paused for a second as you saw Tyson curled up with a blanket on the sofa, seemingly enamored with the silly holiday movie. You moved to stand in front of him and reached both of your hands out for his. “Do you want to go somewhere,” you asked. Even though the movie seemed to be at its climax with the main character going through some kind of post-breakup montage, Tyson dutifully stood up and went with you as you pulled him to the door to get your coats, keys, and shoes. 

The sun went down so early in the winter so while it wasn’t that late it was dark out… and cold. Not quite raining or snowing, but there were wet flurries here and there as you walked down the path towards the car. Tyson hopped in the passenger’s seat because you knew the roads having grown up here. Both of you were quiet as you began to drive. There wasn’t a clear destination in your head. You headed towards the downtown part of the city where there was more to do, just hoping that something would jump out at you. That something that you had been waiting for jumped out at Tyson instead.

“Hey, hey, hey, (Y/N),” he blurted out excitedly. As you looked at what he was frantically pointing at you saw the outdoor ice rink. You looked back at him questioningly. “Tyson, you skate every day,” you said. “Yeah, but not with you,” he replied drawing out the last word. At that, you exaggeratingly raised your eyebrow thinking of the Avs family skate the two of you had gone to just over a week ago. He returned your look with puppy dog eyes that had you pulling into the first available parking spot. 

While you were waiting in line for your skates, Tyson hip-checked you and then pulled you back by your clasped hand. You thought he probably sensed that something was off. If your quietness wasn’t enough of an indicator, the fact that you rushed out of the kitchen and then promptly dragged him out of the house definitely was. He moved to wrap an arm around your waist and then kissed the top of your hair. Tyson had the wonderful quality of always being snuggly warm without overheating you so you pressed yourself against him in an attempt to warm up. 

Once you finally had your rented skates in hand, he insisted on tying them for you. Afterwards, he reached out a hand to pull you up. While you hadn’t been raised a skater in any sense, Tyson had worked hard to teach you on a few different occasions which meant that at this point you could solidly skate around without falling. As your skating ability increases so did his ability to tease you while skating. When you first started he couldn’t even move from your death grip without you panicking, but now that you could keep yourself steady he could pull you faster or be otherwise obnoxious to make you laugh. In this case, it meant Tyson trying to spin you under his arm like you were ballroom dancing. This meant that you would inevitably stumble into his chest, both of you in fits of giggles. 

That was one of your favorite parts of dating Tyson. He had an uncanny ability to cheer you up. If you had a bad day at work he would put on a production of singing ‘00s pop songs until tears were streaming down your face from laughing so hard. When he was in Edmonton and you were still in Colorado, he sent you a framed picture of himself with a note that said, “just because I know you miss me sooooooooooooo much.” Now here he was spinning you around an outdoor rink in your hometown, being perfect one again. 

As the night grew on, the other skaters began to clear out which left just you, Tyson, and a group of three teenagers still on the ice. The two of you were skating more calmly while you chatted quietly about random things - some prank he had played on JT, a story Grandpa Jost had told about his band practice, a project you were doing at work. Eventually, he pulled you to the side of the rink so that you faced each other. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened,” he asked with a knowing look on his face. You tried to play dumb and put on your best I have no idea what you’re talking about face. Tyson sighed, “do you really think I’ll believe that you just happened to storm out of the kitchen and drag me out for no reason?” He clearly had you cornered but in a last ditch effort you tried to steer the conversation away one more time: “I thought you were having fun! You’re the one who wanted to go skating.” Tyson crossed his arms and gave you a look which told you he wasn’t going to let you avoid the question.

“Okay, fine. My mom was just pressuring me… about you. And I needed a break,” you told him. As you looked back up to make eye contact you could see Tyson’s face drop. “Oh,” he said, “I thought they liked me.” Your heart broke at how sad he looked. It was clear that he really was trying hard to impress them and valued their opinion of him. Even though you would rather not tell him just how much your family liked him, you knew that you had to. It might make things a bit awkward - not because he would get scared off, but because you knew that he would likely tease you incessantly - but it would at least take the kicked puppy look off of your boyfriend’s face.

You sighed, “no Tyson, they fucking loved you, that’s the problem.” The sad look on his face diminished slightly, curiosity taking its place. “My mom may have been asking me when I was going to lock that down,” you told him, making air quotes around the final words. At this, Tyson broke out into a wide smile, “I see.” He spun away a bit and broke out into Gracie Hart’s, “you think I’m gorgeous, you wanna daaaate me, love me, and marry me!” You put your hands to your red face and began skating towards him as he waggled his eyebrows and did a little dance. “Tyson it’s not funny,” you whined. At this point you had reached the other side of the rink as he wrapped his arms around your waist and once again pressed you against the rail. 

“Seriously though, (Y/N), like, I see a future with you… You’re my favorite person and when I do get “locked down” I want you to do it.” He was clearly trying to make it a bit of a joke in case you didn’t respond the same way, but it still took you aback. In all honesty, you loved Tyson and couldn’t see yourself with anyone else. “Well, yeah, I’m hopelessly in love with you, Tys. But that doesn’t mean that I want my mom shoving her veil in my hands,” you were mumbling into his chest, but he heard you. “Yeah, I still have to buy a ring… hire a flashmob, all that stuff,” he teased. You jokingly pushed him away which made him laugh loudly while pulling you back into him. 

With both of you feeling content and the night air getting colder and colder you went back to your parent’s house for the night. You entered the front door, instantly feeling the warmth from the fireplace. The adults who were staying over were in similar positions to how you left them. They seemed to be playing some sort of card game around the coffee table. You waved to everyone as you pulled Tyson with you towards the stairs. Right before you would be out of their view, Tyson stopped and turned around.

“(Y/M/N), I’ll give you a heads up of when to pull out the veil, okay?” he shouted down. You looked to see a massive grin take over your mom’s face. “Tyson!” you chastized before running up the stairs to follow his giggling form to your room. Embarrassment and meddling mothers aside, you felt light and happy knowing that you and Tyson were in it for the long haul. The two of you had countless more giggly, teasing nights ahead of you and you couldn’t wait.

#nhl imagine #nhl imagines #tyson jost imagine #tyson jost #hockey imagine #colorado avalanche #t.jost

[goatessb]

A solo trip to Jeonju, March 11-13, 2021 

Living in the new normal that corona has brought about has probably been easier on me than on many other people. I still have a full time job, and Korea has never really been under a true lockdown. I’ve been healthy, and when the numbers of the infected are on the lower spectrum, I try to go on a wee trip somewhere in Korea. I can do this thanks to fully online classes. I teach three hours live on Tuesday and Wednesday, and the rest is premade videos. When I work hard and get organized, I can end up with a free Thursday and Friday, better days for travel than weekends that can be quite crowded. 

I’d been to Jeonju  five times before, always with friends and once with my niece. This time, I travelled alone. I wrote about this in detail in another post. I stayed at two hanoks, Sarangru and Happiness Full House. The former was absolutely gorgeous and it came with a wonderful, healthy breakfast, the latter was also very nice, more modest and also less expensive. I enjoyed both places.

I left Seoul at 10:15 from the Central City Terminal. I was surprised to see how swanky this place has become! Absolutely gentrified with lots of places to eat, drink and shop for little things and right next to a  Shinsaege Department store. The trip was uneventful. I was tired and sleepy because the night before I couldn’t sleep well. The air on that day was atrociously bad. All I could see out the window was smog and hints of bare pre-spring trees and fields or stretches of uninspiring  suburbia and grubby villages.

We reached Jeonju around 1:00 pm. The first thing I noticed was that the spring was more advanced here than in Seoul. Weeping willows had that lovely pale green color and there were some plum and apricot blossoms already on the trees lining the streets.  

After I settled in my hanok nestled among bamboo trees, camelias and magnolias, I went out looking for food and ended up in Family House that serves Jeonju bibimbop with 12 side dishes. Very colorful, very healthy, very good.  Then I spent the rest of the day walking the streets: lots of shops renting gaudy, fake hanboks, creative street food more of a fusion modern kind rather than original Korean fare, BNP choco pies everywhere, admittedly a few notches above the packaged store stuff.  At around sunset I went to Jeonmang cafe for the views of hanoks awash in the golden  twilight - and wasn’t disappointed. Finally, when it got dark,  I walked up to Omokdae, a pavillion on the hill above the hanok village. In the past, a King (forgot which one, maybe the first one Taejo) celebrated here the win over the Japanese with a huge, lavish banquet. 

I was too full from my bibimbap so I stayed in and instead of dinner I had some some boiled eggs and makkolli from a convenience store. I spent a good portion of he quite cold night sitting on the veranda, wrapped in a blanket. I was alone but there was almost a palpable presence of friends I’d been to Jeonju with before…My dear C with whom I loved exploring Korea; the intense. moody JS, but also one of the funniest guys I’ve ever met (I’ll never forget lying on the floor of our motel trying our countries’ tongue twisters); my quirky film distributor/producer friend and her crowd of artsy hot sake guzzling colleagues when we attended the film festival here;  the gorgeous CD and his mane of raven black hair who took us to the makoli town where I smelled my first hongo fish – fermented skate - and swore that it’d never go past my lips;  Ms. SH with whom I hiked on Maisan in bitter -14 and drank makkolli in some famous old establishment; and of course, the best, my niece who was then the sweetest yet quite complex and thoughtful 17 year old and our ridiculous problem with the super hot floor in July which left us with no other choice but to sleep in the yard under the stars and laugh hysterically and unstoppably until the owner of our hanbok appeared the next day and gave us another room.  Sitting there, tipsy and nostalgic, I imagined myself as the last of the Mohikans, still holding fort when all of the old friends inhabiting my Korean landscape in the early and mid years either left Korea or got drowned in their own busy lives. Bitter sweet moments. It was only when I lost all the feeling in my fingers from the cold that I went in. It took an extremely long shower to thaw my frozen limbs and feel life coming back to my body.

GYEONGGIJEON 경기전 King Taejo's Portrat Shrine

Above, a motif in Gyeonggijeon: the crane carrying a blue bell flower used to brew "the elixir of immortality." The guide told me, "you know, it's not really true." What disappointment!

The next day I went to Gyeonggijeon, the shrine that houses the only portrait of Taejo, the founder of Chosun Dynasty. I had a guide, a lady from Mokpo who married a Jeonju guide. I’ve learned quite a few things from her. She pointed out the Chinese characters for luck at the entrance to the shrine. One actually goes through three gates and they all have three entrances. One goes in through the right and comes out through the left. No one is allowed to go through the middle as it is reserved for the spirits. She pointed out at a crane carrying the blue bell flower - yes, the one from Kingdom, Korean zombie series. If you drink tea made from it you become immortal. Or you become a zombie like that hapless king ...

Below: in the middle, the Chinese character for "luck" surrounded by bats

Apparently, bats are also a symbol of luck as they are pronounced same as ‘luck.’

The portrait is not original of course. It’s a replica made by some famous modern artist. The king wears a blue royal robe, apparently the symbol of the East and the beginnings (as in the first king). The robe feature embroidery of five-clawed dragons, symbol of a king. A seven-clawed dragon is a symbol of an emperor.

The guide took me to the Chosun Dynasy archives. This was a place where they kept the annals of the Chosun Dynasty. Reportedly, there were the court historians who wrote everything that the king and the important people did. Many historians wrote many drafts, and then revised them and bound the final copies in a yearly volume. The drafts, written on hanji paper, were then washed in a stream, dried and recycled. And the historians who wrote them? They were executed! Yes, as not to reveal the secrets of the court. I wonder how they found candidates for the job! Another interesting thing is that the king was not allowed to meddle in what was written so that the ‘true’ history could be recorded. Hmm…. Over the centuries, these annals had to be moved many times in order to save them from the Japanese. They’ve been to Kanghwa-do, among other places.

The portrait of King TAejo was made in the capital Seoul (then called Hanyang) a century or two after his death based on the previously existing one. Then, it was decided that the portrait should be moved to Jeonju because that was the original place of the Lee (Yi) family that started the dynasty. The move from Seoul lasted 8 days and involved 300 people, high officials, soldiers and peasants. To give such reverence to a portrait? Why? Because it was believed that the portrait is infused by the spirit of the diseased king.

The most grammable places in Gyeonggijeon are two apricot trees. The one with white blossoms is over 100 years old, stooped and gnarly. The guide brochure insisted that it looks like “a dragon that just landed on the ground and is about to jump high in the air again.”  I just saw a bent old tree with pretty white blossoms. What a prosaic soul I must be. Across from it is a younger tree with pink blossoms. The few people present there were busy taking dozens of photos in front of the blossoms. A few steps from the apricot trees, there’s a small bamboo grove with a short paved path slicing through it leading through a small gate into another yard. I remembered that C and I found the old trees there fascinating and took lots of pics. Standing in the middle of this path surrounded by bamboo trees is a must have Instagram photo! I don't have it, though. A legend says that when people read a lot, the bamboo leaves are green, but when books remain closed, the leaves turn yellow. Well, not surprisingly, the leaves were yellow.

Above: the dragon tree^^

Below: the bamboos angry at people for not reading enough.

 I had a late lunch at Veteran and another makkolli banquet with the ghosts on the veranda. Oh, I forgot to mention that it was raining the whole time.

 The next day I went to Jaman Mural Village. I have a separate post about it. Well worth a visit as there are a lot of interesting murals. After Jaman I had coffee in Jeonmang and was told I could only stay for an hour. Urgh. Popular place. Oh, and an all day rain the day before, I was happy to enjoy a beautiful sunny warm day. I sat on a bench in front of Gyeonggijeon and just watched people. There were couples and families dressed in those gaudy hanbok taking photos. Some wore retro clothes from the 40’s or 50’s, women with fascinators and long narrow skirts, men in old-fashioned suits and hats. It’s a must in Jeonju if you’re a self (or should I say Instagram-) respecting traveller.  

 Then more walking along less visited alleys. There are many really beautiful houses, very aesthetically pleasing. That was probably my favorite part of being in Jeonju – just waling around pretty, quiet alleys. One last coffee, then picking up the backpack from the Happiness Full House, and back to Seoul.

Jeonju keywords: quiet streets; beautiful old-style houses; beautiful yards; gaudy hanboks; interesting murals; history; and more history. Loved it.

#jeonju #koreatravel

[pain-somnia]

Title: What Once Was Rating: T Characters: Madara, Sasuke; background minor SasuSaku, implied GaaNaru, mentions of implied past HashiMadaMito Disclaimer Day’s Notes: hello! This was a fic I wrote for @a-year-of-naruto and I thought I had posted it but I guess I haven’t because I can’t find it. I wrote for the season of spring and this is a reincarnation AU that focuses on Madara and a bit of Sasuke. It’s still a goal of mine to do a Sasuke PoV companion piece. Warning: few mentions of violence and a corpse’s description

What Once Was

The light breeze blows in through the bars of the window, bringing the leftover chill from winter with it. The cold had been stubborn this season, lingering even as March was now reaching its end.

Yet it had never bothered Madara and he wonders to himself if it was a trait that carried on across lifetimes. Fire coursed through his blood long ago and now in a different time, his body keeps warm━scorching like fanned flames━a whisper of what once was.

The wind chime hanging off the roof sways with the breeze, singing a soft tinkle over the bustle of people walking the path from the suburbs to the city. Every day the residents would pass by his shop on their way to work or school. Sometimes they entered, sometimes they didn't, using it instead as a meeting point before moving on to their true destination.

“It’s freezing,” a middle school girl complains as she searches for something warm to drink. Tucking a strand of rose gold hair behind her ear, she gets to work on preparing a cup of hot cocoa at the dispenser near the front counter.

“It’s not that bad.”

The deeper voice has Madara shifting his gaze to the new patron entering the shop. The familiar, unruly spikes catches his attention. He has seen this boy before, not just around the neighborhood, but somewhere in a distant past.

With a slight inclination of his chin, the teenage boy bows to him as he passes the counter. He is always overly polite to his elders, he’s noticed. Perhaps raised by a traditional and strict family.

“You never get cold, Sasuke-kun,” the girl grumbles, capping a lid on her drink.

Sasuke. An uncommon name, too old fashioned for a child of his generation, but that too breached across to this lifetime━perhaps fate had his parents naming him so.

It was a different name than the one Madara had assigned to him in his mind, but a name he came to terms with years back when the boy first entered his shop in his gakuran uniform with a loud blond boy and a much quieter and sleepy looking red haired kid.

“Should I get one for Naruto?” Another uncommon name, also familiar.

“Don’t spoil him, Sakura. He’s running late, he doesn’t get a drink.”

“Not running late,” Sakura corrects him in a singsong, “he’s waiting for Gaara.”

Sasuke rolls his eyes and digs out his wallet for change, paying for her share. It’s a simple exchange, nothing out of the ordinary, but as the boy places the money in his hand, Madara is hit with the scent of smoke and the coppery odor of blood. Angry charcoal eyes flash across his vision.

“Thank you. Have a good day!” The girl━Sakura━waves goodbye cheerily, dragging Sasuke along.

And off they go, away from his old corner store. They will make their way around the bend of the street, past the small shops to their bus stop that will take them to the crowded and noisy city.

A city he escaped to get away from the ghosts of his past, only to run into another one.

.

.

Madara doesn’t see him again the following week.

He sees the sunny boy—Naruto, he reminds himself—with their red haired friend. They’re in casual clothes now that they’re on holiday. The two of them are often together as they enjoy their Spring Break.

During the school year it wasn’t a strange sight, seeing them alone. Sasuke would be traveling home either alone—carrying a sports bag and a kendo shinai—or with the girl with the rose gold hair, carrying books that could have been his but usually were not.

It’s not until near the end of March that he sees him again. It’s as Madara steps outside his shop, acrid cigarette smoke mixing with floral notes and disappearing into the white sky of the cloudy day, that he spots him in neat casual attire walking hand in hand with the same rose haired girl dressed in a pretty sundress and cardigan.

Ah. A new development, he thinks, watching them hold hands for the first time on their way home.

If he squints his eyes and forgets his name, Madara can almost picture him as a different boy, a boy raised in war. It’s easy to fall into the trap of replacing this Sasuke with his brother. Easy to imagine it’s Izuna enjoying the brisk Spring afternoon.

He subtracts Sasuke and adds Izuna into every scenario. It’s Izuna goofing off with friends. It’s Izuna falling slowly but surely in love. It’s Izuna that practices kendo and goes to cram school.

It’s Izuna living a life so carefree, free of the burdens of war. Izuna being allowed to be a child the way that Madara now knows how to be, even with his past life bridging to his current in the form of dreams and memories.

Of all his kin, why this boy? This boy━that shouldn’t even exist as long as he’s breathing━gets a new chance at a different life.

He can’t help that he’s glaring when the boy looks up and they catch each other’s eyes. The boy glares right back and, holding on tightly to his girlfriend’s hand, he picks up his pace, getting as far away as possible from his shop.

I don’t care about your hāfu girlfriend.

He remembers the Uchiha, almost as homogeneous as the society he lives in. Maybe his past self would have found it traitorous but his current self can’t summon an ounce of care to discriminate against a child born of a Chinese parent.

The memories and emotions simmer under the surface but some still feel as though they belong to someone else. And then there are some that settle as absolute truths.

.

.

Sometimes the way the smoke of his cigarette burns in his chest and up his throat feels like a katon ready to unleash. It’s as he’s sweeping the carpet of pink petals blocking his shop that Madara wishes he could still summon flames to speed up the task of clearing the sakura blossoms that cover the roof tops, the streets, and every nook and cranny they settle in after the wind scatters them.

Grunting to himself, he piles the petals in a heap before moving on to his neighbor’s little shop. She sells ceramic wares, pottery spun by her wrinkled hands, and yet cats make the shop their home. The obaasan that owns it leaves food and water out and the cats never knock over any of the clay pots or bowls. They simply laze about, only rising from their spot when a guest arrives, eager to fetch the granny like dutiful little employees.

His neighbor has watched over him ever since he took over the corner store four years ago. The old woman never asked him why a city boy would move out but still remain as close as possible, settling in between the loud city and the sleepy suburb of which families had made their home. She doesn’t care to know his story, only brings him something to eat and has him fix her up a cup of tea.

Madara knows that if she asked he would never tell her about meetings at an izakaya after work. Would never talk about the woman with porcelain skin and auburn hair or the man with chocolate brown eyes and a mouth with the ever present upturn at the corners. Would never talk about the rings on both of their left hands and how even in this life they left him behind.

His hair had been shorter then. Thick and spiked but cropped close to his head━perfect for an office worker. Crunching numbers during the day and dreaming of the screams of his enemies at night. Madara ignored the memories of his past in favor of clinging to what his life could be.

The dreams were just dreams, he told himself. They meant nothing, even in the mornings when he could still smell sulfur and feel the weight of long hair against his shoulder blades despite the absence of it when he looked at his reflection in the mirror.

But that was four years ago and gone are the days of sitting behind monitors and filing paper. It took four years and now his hair, although tied loosely, settles against his back, creeping down to his waist.

The second week of April brings gentle rains. The drops drum against the shingles on the roof above his flat. The temperature had been rising and the mellow showers are just a precursor to the ones that will fall in a couple of months.

Taking the kettle off the stove in his kitchenette, Madara is glad he got back from the bathhouse before the rain came down. He settles on the tatami, just under the window, and listens to the pitter patter melting into the babbling of a brook.

He can feel the warmth of a sunny day on his cheeks and the roaring of laughter against his ears. Madara opens his eyes and he’s in the middle of the woods, hakama pants getting heavy from retaining water. In a voice not quite his own he shouts insults at the young man with the unfortunate haircut that had pushed him in.

Madara grabs Hashirama’s ankles and drags him down in the water with him. Laughing through his nose, he prepares himself for a retaliation that never comes. Dropping his stance Madara glances around in confusion, not understanding where his friend could have gone.

“Niisan…” a voice croaks below him.

At his feet, floats the eyeless corpse of his younger brother.

Madara doesn’t scream as he wakes up. The dream is old and although his heart is palpitating at an alarming rate, it no longer brings him the same terror it had when the memories were still fresh.

Grabbing his phone to check the time, Madara doesn’t register the hour as he’s distracted by the notifications on his screen.

His dreams had summoned the caller and looking at the number of missed calls Madara swipes his thumb on his screen to clear his notifications.

Of course that fool would call seven times.

.

.

Owning a corner store gets to be tedious. Tracking inventory and restocking use the most basic of his accounting skills. Manning the counter is a lazy task and Madara finds himself constantly leaving his shop to watch people as they pass by to keep from dozing off.

He keeps his mouth busy with cigarettes he purchases from the vending machine right outside his shop. Chain-smoking wasn’t a habit he expected to pick up but had anyway when the company he worked for merged with another.

It was the merger that changed everything.

“You can call me Hashi,” his new coworker introduced himself. The new staff had entered in the Spring, only a few months after the merger was announced, and it was the first time Madara had spoken directly to any of them.

The exchange was sparked by a request for a lighter and from then on the man had initiated a one sided friendship that quickly became mutual.

Conversations in the designated smoking room soon moved on to shared lunch breaks and drinks after work. There had been moments━Madara is sure there had been moments━and despite the awkwardness of dealing with memories in which in a past life the two of them stood on opposing sides in battle, it was the most alive Madara had felt in the longest time.

And then came the arrival of Hashi’s “Mi-chan.”

She had also called the night before. Mito had messaged him on LINE but unlike Hashirama, she hadn’t called repeatedly. She wasn’t one to do any chasing. But the message was a blunt lecture about absences and leaving people hanging.

Madara watches the sky break out in hues of pink and orange, melting into purple and navy. It’s time for the students that do not have after school activities to arrive on the bus.

And sure enough there’s a blond knucklehead gesticulating to a red haired kid holding a small potted cactus rounding the corner. They’re no longer wearing gakuran but blazers and tartan slacks, the uniform of the local public high school.

Well it is Spring, Madara thinks to himself as he takes a long drag of his cigarette. The brats couldn’t stay middle schoolers forever.

But there is one missing in the usual trio of boys. Standing taller than the other two, and usually bickering with the blond kid, Sasuke wasn’t with them.

It had been a few weeks since the new school year had started and Sasuke never seemed like the kind of person to stop going to school when it was no longer compulsory.

.

.

The granny’s cats usually are quiet as they lurk about the alley between his shop and hers. Madara will come across them when he’s making sure that the combustible trash has been sorted properly.

The brat standing in his alley is definitely not a cat.

Charcoal colored eyes glared back at him defiantly as if Madara’s fist isn’t balled up in his blazer. The neat black blazer with red trimming has the crest of a school Madara knows very well. It belongs to a school that he had sat an exam for and failed. It was a high school he had aspired to go to as a teenager for its exclusiveness. It was a rigorously structured school that boasted the best performance academically and only accepted those that were able to pass the intensely difficult entrance exam.

For a moment Madara is proud. If anyone were to get into such a school it would be his kin. Sasuke is an Uchiha through and through. A different lifetime didn’t change that fact.

That pride crumbles with the glittering of silver on Sasuke’s ears and the exhale of smoke coming out of his mouth. His descendant reborn is a delinquent.

“You’re fifteen,” Madara hisses, pushing Sasuke back against the wall of his shop.

“You don’t know how old I am.”

“Boy,” Madara grips his collar lapel and yanks Sasuke up so they’re nose to nose, “don’t try acting smart when you’re clearly wearing a high school uniform.”

Sasuke looks older than a first year, face more mature than children his age but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s a child.

“Where did you get a Taspo from?”

Sasuke shrugs which has Madara shaking him. He obviously stole the smart card for the vending machine, possibly from a relative. Or maybe he was sent by his father to pick up a carton and took the opportunity to buy one for himself.

“Come on brat, we’re going to talk to your parents.”

Sasuke pulls back, making himself heavy and refusing to budge. Madara has half a mind to tug on one of his earrings and force him to move.

“Hand it over.”

“Hand what over?” Sasuke cocks an eyebrow and feigns innocence poorly. If the odor didn’t give him away, the look of complete indifference did.

“The box of cigarettes! Don’t act stupid with me now, brat.”

Sasuke makes no move to do as he is demanded. He looks directly into Madara’s eyes unwavering and it is here that it’s even more clear to him that this boy could never be his younger brother. Their noses are different. Izuna’s cheekbones were higher and sharper. This boy’s lower lash line is slightly longer than the upper.

How did he ever mistake him for Izuna?

“There’s a woman with your face,” Madara speaks up after a beat. “I’ve seen you with her before. She goes to the city, but when she passes my shop she always stops for a chat with the granny next door.”

Sasuke narrows his eyes at the threat hidden in Madara’s words. Four years of watching all of the people. Four Springs passing by him, of course he knows at least that much about the boy from his past.

Reaching into his back pocket, Sasuke takes out a box and tosses it to the ground. He never made anything easy━not in their old life and not now. He shoves him away with a force that has Madara fumbling backwards and having to catch himself before he knocks over the bins. Without another glance Sasuke leaves the alley and if not for the carton of cigarettes on the ground it would have been as if he had never been there to begin with.

Not one to leave perfectly good cigarettes go to waste, Madara picks up the box from the ground and opens it up. The carton is half full and he pulls one out and lights it up.

Huh. Menthols.

.

.

That night isn’t the last of his run ins with Sasuke. Madara uses the evenings to stand outside and enjoy the chill of the night as the temperature drops with the sun.

He aligns his outings with the time the stragglers would be coming home from work or after school clubs. He sparks up a cigarette and watches as the teenager scowls at him before turning down the road in the opposite direction of what he knows is the path he usually takes to get home.

Some nights, Sasuke drops into the store and picks up a Pocari Sweat and mints. He has his gym bag and shinai on those nights. Some nights he’s home earlier than expected and he loiters the corner store, usually playing with a visiting cat before he makes a purchase of another sports drink and tin of mints.

“Are they helping to curb the craving?” Madara asks him one night as he rings him up.

“Gotta do something considering you’re a persistent jiji, always guarding the machine.”

“Jiji!?” Madara’s right eye twitches at the rude name he’s called. “How old do you think I am exactly, boy?”

“Forty-seven?”

“I’m thirty-six,” Madara hisses. Being called ossan would have been better. Still rude, but better than jiji.

Sasuke doesn’t apologize for his answer. He simply counts his change before handing it over. Madara eyes him before slipping the change in the till.

“Women tend to prefer non-smokers anyway,” he advises. The ghost of Mito’s voice flits around his ears, nagging him and Hashirama for their habits.

Sasuke gives him an unimpressed look. The aura of superiority around the kid grates on his nerves. He was a boy of merely fifteen and yet he had such an abrasive attitude with his elders.

What happened to the boy from a few weeks ago that would bow his head when entering his store? What changed?

“I only do things because I want to. Not for other people.”

And why would you want to smoke or pierce your ears? What’s the benefit?

Madara doesn’t voice his questions. He just does what he always does and watches him leave, his eyes following him down the street and turning in the wrong direction from the bars of his window.

.

.

The following night is one of the nights where Sasuke comes home early. Instead of picking up a sports drink like he always does he helps Madara unpack boxes of goods and shelves them in their appropriate places. Madara observes as he unflinchingly lines up sanitary napkins and tampons on the shelf and then moves on to small packages of toilet paper.

The Naruto kid had been in the store earlier and kicked out two minutes after entering for making a racket when he only saw the boxes.

“Your friend was here today.”

“What friend?” Sasuke continues stacking and if Madara wasn’t looking at him he would have believed he had imagined that Sasuke spoke at all.

“He’s loud. And obnoxious.”

Sasuke ignores him and moves over to the aisle on the other side of the shelves. He continues stacking with an unnerving focus. Madara is tempted to chuck something at him to see if he would even react to it. The kid stares into space often enough to worry Madara about his state of mind. Schools like the one Sasuke attended focused heavily on exams and it usually took a toll on the students. It was still early in the year but the shift from public school to private may have been difficult on the boy.

Especially considering that he keeps skipping cram school.

It is a few nights later that he receives an old visitor. The rose gold hair is familiar but it’s the look in her eyes that has Madara remembering a different set of determined green eyes that faced him down as he stood among the rubble and overturned earth of a battlefield.

He had stabbed this girl before.

She slides a pack of lead for her pencils across his counter and a tin of mints. The brand is the exact same one Sasuke picks up and it’s then that Madara notices she is wearing the same blazer that Sasuke wears as part of his uniform.

“Ojisan? Have you seen a boy about this tall,” the girl waves her hand several centimeters above her head, “with spiky black hair and bangs that fall across the left side of his face? I usually come in with him in the morning.”

Madara shakes his head and tells her the total of her purchase. With a sigh of defeat she thanks him and pays for her items.

He has in fact seen Sasuke. It was about an hour earlier than she had arrived from the city, most likely coming home from cram school. He usually sees her walking home alone in the evenings.

Sometimes, Naruto and their red haired friend pick her up from the bus stop and escort her while Naruto cheerfully tells her about something going on at his school. As the trio walks there’s a mindful gap, as if they are subconsciously aware of their missing friend as they head in the direction of their homes.

“Where do you go when you come home from school?” Madara asks him on a rainy afternoon. Sasuke looks around the store and back at Madara as if the answer was obvious. “Besides here, brat.”

Sasuke doesn’t respond, not that Madara actually expected him to. Talking, it seems, is another one of those things Sasuke doesn’t do unless he wants to.

He moves around the shelves slowly, taking things down that were put back in the wrong place by customers and putting them in the correct shelf. Madara told Sasuke that he wouldn’t pay him for the work, that he wasn’t hiring any part timers, but the boy continued to come back and assist him in the shop.

“My school doesn’t allow its students to have jobs,” he explained. Madara finds it curious that Sasuke obeys that rule even though he clearly doesn’t care about the restrictions on body modifications. Even the hair that falls in his face that he constantly flattens and brushes to the side is too long according to his school’s rules.

Madara watches as Sasuke continues to grab things with his right hand, never reaching with his left despite it being free and closer to items. There is a slight stutter in Sasuke’s movements when he bumps the shelves with the left side of his body as he attempts to go around a corner. He looks down at his left arm in confusion before shaking his head.

Sasuke flexes the fingers on his left hand and unnecessarily drums them along the shelves as he turns. Madara hears him muttering to himself, “It’s still here…” and wonders if he should be concerned by the strange behavior.

His reincarnated descendant is a strange one and getting stranger by the day.

“You’re avoiding something,” Madara calls after him as Sasuke moves behind shelves of snacks and out of his line of sight. “Or someone.”

“You’re one to talk about avoiding something,” Sasuke’s voice carries as he walks throughout the store. “When are you going to finally answer that phone? It only rings like five times within an hour.”

As if on cue, Madara’s cell phone rings, rattling against the old register it sits on top of. He doesn’t even need to look to know who is calling. It is around the time Madara used to call it a day and shut off his computer.

“Going to answer that any time soon, old man?”

“Out.” Madara seethes, tired of his attitude. No one talks to him in that tone, especially not fifteen year olds. “Out of my store.”

“More like your bubble,” Sasuke retorts, finally coming around from the back row of shelves. “You never leave this place. You even live right above it.”

Sasuke snatches his messenger bag from off the floor and Madara is tempted to reach over the counter and snatch him by his sweater vest. For a moment he forgets that in this lifetime he is simply a middle aged former salaryman and not the fighter he once was in a distant life.

Sasuke narrows his eyes at him and Madara expects them to bleed into the scarlet coloring he has witnessed in his dreams and almost moves himself to brace for an attack. Instead, he stops in his tracks and examines the young face of this teenage boy. The skin underneath his eyes is dark and puffy, a clear sign that Sasuke hasn’t been sleeping properly.

“Go home,” Madara mutters. He’s not what he used to be. Fighting doesn’t bring him the same joy it brought his past self.

Sasuke pulls back and brings himself to his full height. He tightens his grip on his messenger bag strap and just when Madara thinks he’s about to do as he’s told for once, Sasuke decides to have the last word.

“I would tell you to do the same but, clearly, you’ve decided that you’re already there.”

Madara throws a roll of receipt paper that Sasuke deftly avoids, side stepping and rushing to the door.

“I won’t be like you, I refuse!” He shouts behind him as he makes his exit, confusing Madara with his words.

Was there ever a chance you would be?

.

.

Madara expects him to come back after a few nights but by the end of Golden Week, Sasuke still hasn’t shown his face. Madara almost gives up on looking for him when he spots him by the corner where the bus should stop.

Sasuke doesn’t move even as it starts to shower. He opens his umbrella and continues to wait.

Madara grows tired of watching him and puts out his cigarette and heads back inside his shop. He’s sitting behind his counter and flipping open a book when he hears a familiar shout of joy before there’s a much more familiar angry retort. It’s quiet again with only the drops of rain harmonizing with the soft jingle of the wind chime.

The sound of students chatting as they walk by his shop isn’t a new occurrence so he continues reading his historical fiction, only pausing when he hears a slight knocking against the wooden bars of his window.

“Are you trying to prank the corner store jiji?” A bright voice trills. At that Madara is standing up, ready to throw anything, even his flip flop, at the brat attempting to vandalize his shop.

Madara is poised and ready when he spots the spiky dark head of Sasuke, walking underneath an umbrella with the green eyed girl, Sakura. Naruto ditches the shelter of the umbrella he shares with the red haired boy and jumps on Sasuke’s back, hounding him for answers.

“What was that about? Come on, tell me!”

“Knock it off, idiot!” Sasuke shoves him off and Naruto stumbles backward, falling into a puddle.

The two of them bicker back and forth with occasional interjections from Sakura. Despite the ongoing argument, the tension in Sasuke’s shoulders is gone and there’s a softness to his demeanor that had been missing weeks ago.

Madara watches as they round the corner and head down the street in the direction of home. Sasuke elbows Naruto the whole way as the latter continues to try and squeeze under the same umbrella as the couple and cling to the both of them.

Madara takes a deep inhale and holds it for a count of four seconds before exhaling. He’ll see what Sasuke did to his window and find him later. There was only one path to get to the bus stop and Madara can stand watch forever for the brat.

Inspecting his window, Madara finds a white handle sticking out from between the bars. Pulling on it reveals the flat, red side of an uchiwa. It was an unusual design for a fan but the message Sasuke is trying to convey is clear.

Huh. So that’s how it is. Madara shakes his head and exhales a laugh through his nose. Well, I’m not going to be shown up by a kid.

Sitting at his counter, Madara drums his fingers against the table top and eyes his cell phone. He wills it to ring but it just lays there on top of his register. He runs his hands down his face, smoothing his palms against the stubble on his jawline.

“Alright,” he mutters, swiping his phone from its designated spot. He searches his call log for a number he still knew by memory, stalling the call by as many seconds as possible. It seems like minutes have gone by before the dial tone stops and the call is picked up.

“Hello? Ma-kun?” Madara takes in a sharp intake of air at the sound of her voice, so clear even through the phone’s speaker. “This better not be a butt dial, Madara.”

Letting out a breathy chuckle, Madara greets her and in one breath Mito releases a few years worth of complaints, sprinkling in a few questions in between.

“I can tell you about the shop later,” Madara cuts in when he is given the opportunity. “You can tell Hashi that I’ll be at the old pub.”

#madara uchiha #uchiha madara #sasuke uchiha #sasusaku #day!fics

[dansnaturepictures]

The third of my 10 wildlife/photography highlights of 2020 blogs: My year in the New Forest

I do this post every year now and as I felt it worked well last year I’m structuring this post like this again. I will roughly talk through notable New Forest walks and trips we had this year in chronological order, but then introduce thoughts about subsequent walks at the same place, a similar or nearby one or one that featured the same or similar wildlife next so it does flip around back and forth around the months a bit. It was another special and varied year visiting our beloved national park, even if coronavirus meant there was a hiatus where I really missed going to the forest during the first lockdown as has happened before for a different reason a long time ago for me.

It all started with an early winter visit to Denny Wood to help build my bird year list early on, for the first time since 2015 we didn’t visit here alongside Lakeside on New Year’s Day to see woodland species but still made it here early on and I had a little look at the heath between it and Shatterford on 3rd January. As well as taking in a really nice landscape as it got sunnier and sunnier that packed day for me I was happy to watch the feeding woodland birds spending precious moments with them seeing my first Marsh Tit, Coal Tit, Great Spotted Woodpecker, Dunnock, Nuthatch and Treecreeper of 2020, with my first Rook and Mistle Thrush of the year on the way driving in and on the way home nearby respectively.

Blashford Lakes was our location of choice on 4th January getting memorably lots of year ticks of bird species beginning with G. Standout birds I have seen at this rich reserve this year have included; Goosander, Goldeneye, Goldcrest, Great White Egret and Siskin. A standout visit to Blashford Lakes this year was my second of the year on 1st March which was one of my most special days of photography this year. I took some of my pictures I am most proud of this year as part of a high amount produced that day, including ones of a Robin one really closeup one that was one of my favourite ever pictures to take an early favourite of mine that I’d taken with my new camera that I got for Christmas, rainbows especially over Ibsley water, general landscapes, a Great Spotted Woodpecker one of my favourite birds and the nice bit of red fungi that there was so much of in the woods in the early days with my new macro lens which I got for my birthday shown in the first of my pictures in this photoset.

I had another strong year at other New Forest reserve Lymington-Keyhaven on the coast. Key species I saw there this year included; Kingfisher, Spotted Redshank, Spoonbill, Peregrine, Marsh Harrier, Slavonian Grebe, many Bar-tailed Godwits on multiple visits this quite special bird became a regular here this year I thought, Greenshank, Ruff, Knot, Whitethroat, Yellow Wagtail which I took the second picture in this photoset of at Pennington in early September, my first Sand Martin of the year in March and many more seen well in June, Common Tern seen fishing really closely that day too which was great, Little Tern, Sandwich Tern and Reed Warbler those three for the first time in 2020 on the same day on what was a memorable late spring return in May to here and the sea after two months away from this habitat during the first bit of the lockdown which was really a sweet and special day for us, Avocet, Shelducks and Little Ringed Plover well with offspring in the spring lovely to see in great numbers in some cases, Black-tailed Godwit, Eider Duck and the lovely Grey Phalarope and its rarer cousin the Wilson’s Phalarope on one amazing October day as I mentioned in my first highlights post. Many lovely Cetti’s Warblers’ calls heard here was great too and it was even delightful to see two Black Swans here in late January. The day I saw the lovely white headed Ruff and another later on stood out for visiting here in late February I saw the white headed and another Ruff there again in October in my best ever year of Ruffs generally this year as I took a large amount of photos and ones I was very proud of that stood out this year of flying Mute Swans, lovely sunny beautiful landscapes, Rock Pipit and more. I had an equally as high yielding photo day I was happy with on 5th September producing photos of Knot, the Yellow Wagtail, Mute Swan and Little Egret flying, young Shelduck, Turnstone up close, many landscapes, flowers and some autumnal sights which I liked a lot. I got a delightful moment on a June Pennington visit seeing two Mute Swans with eight cygnets my first seen anywhere this year cross the footpath and go down the bank into the sea to swim. I enjoyed seeing flowers such as sea aster at this reserve a lot this year too. I enjoyed other flowers at this reserve this year too including common toadflax and broad-leaved clover.  On the way back from seeing those three species at Lymington on 31st October it was atmospheric and brilliant on Halloween to see a gigantic full moon in the sky over the lovely forest landscape on the way back.

Another really pivotal day in my year which I already mentioned in my bird highlights of the year blog was a January visit to the Whitefield Moor/Holmhill area of the New Forest as part of one of my biggest weekends of the year. The Great Grey Shrike was an absolutely rare and mega bird to see one that had been widely seen by many that winter and a largely reported bird in the forest it was true joy to finally see it after a few attempts, as was the Hen Harrier very likely the same bird that had been my 200th of 2019 here on my last day of birdwatching/photography that year. My all-important first Bullfinch of the year completed a golden hat trick of bird year ticks with my first Fallow Deers of the year seen from the car on the way in at a part of the forest and some seen on the walk, and I took once again so many photos and some I was so proud of. The weather was amazing and sunny and the day felt part of something important for me. The Great Grey Shrike was only my fourth ever time seeing one (all in the forest over the years) but I soon got my fifth as on a trip to Milkham in the New Forest in March we were surprised to see one far away fly high into a tree. It was a sensational sight and made me really happy after a quieter period of birdwatching when coronavirus uncertainty had just started to hit I could be seeing a really rare bird and one we’d sort of found too it was smashing. I took the third picture in this photoset of this bird. It was generally an amazing day at Milkham a real rising star of a New Forest location wildlife wise for us as we are starting to see so much there where I also got my first year tick of March seeing my first Crossibills of the year late on. A fantastic and classic woodland New Forest species always an important one for me to see in a year this was my sixth straight year list I recorded this species on which I liked. That day I also saw Hawfinches in woods near Broomy Walk on the walk, a Grey Wagtail unusually on the path and got great views of two of my favourite birds the Buzzard and Great Spotted Woodpecker. Like I said in my highlights post about my favourite birds generally this year I’ve had brilliant years for both these species. I also took many landscape pictures I was happy with that day. It was a classic New Forest day in rich and varied habitat it has so much of and with iconic forest species.

I had a sensational day back at the Whitefield Moor/Holmhill bog walk on 11th July right in the summer especially for insects. I saw my first Common Grayling of the year one of my favourite butterflies always a top one to see in a year and Common Darter dragonfly of the year that day. I also got cracking views of an Emperor dragonfly flying over a pool right beside us it was fantastic to see such an intimate moment, and I saw male and female Silver-studded Blues on the heath on a sunny and hot day two species I had an especially good year for. Butterfly wise I managed to submit some sightings to the Big Butterfly Count that day from a small patch of the walk. Large White 10, Silver-studded Blue 6, Peacock 3, Brimstone 2, Meadow Brown 2, Red Admiral 1 and Ringlet 1 were the results great to chart them at this location. There was also so many Keeled Skimmers one of my favourite dragonflies out on the heath especially lots of golden females which was great I took one of my best photos this year of one with my macro lens it unusually staying still enough for long enough for to get a closeup picture. Buzzard, Jay two of my favourite birds, lots of Redstarts, Stonechats, Greenfinch and Chaffinch completed the highlights that day. As well as common red soldier beetle a species I saw so much those few days and Black-headed Gulls in the car park which I’d not seen here before. It was also amazing to see a Spotted Flycatcher on the way back at Football Green on the edge of the forest and get some nice Song Thrush views.

In late January myself and my Mum participated in an arranged walk with two lovely New Forest seasonal assistant rangers at Kings Hat as a result of a micro photography competition I had entered late last year. On quite a dark but lovely day walking in nice light rain it was great to go about the precious landscape and learn about the amazing work being done to manage the forest and how the Higher Level Stewardship Scheme works and its benefits. I especially liked learning about the iconic and unique to the New Forest rare tadpole shrimp, the important commoning, history of the forest and the work being done to recover the area from the impacts of verge parking. We also met like-minded people on the walk that day and it was a very polite and satisfying time. It was very memorable and a day I looked forward to a lot. Later that day we came back into the forest with the dogs and enjoyed a walk around Eyeworth Pond one of our top forest spots. As I said in my first highlights post the next month I saw my first Mandarin Ducks of the year in a call in there. In early March we were back there for another call in after a walk elsewhere and it was nice to see Mandarins, a Goosander up really close and enjoy some Mallards in a bit of sunlight on the pond on a day that had been showery that the sun brought out its colours so well. I took the fourth picture in this photoset of a Goosander.

Nearer to the outskirts of the New Forest at Badminston and Badminston Common I began my February by seeing one of my birds of the year when we managed to spot a Hoopoe that had been seen there, only my second ever. It was so amazing and perfect to get to spend a few minutes watching this esteemed, iconic and in some ways ultimate bird species moving about in horse fields. One of my best bits of the year for sure I was proud to have this experience and I took a record shot the fifth picture in this photoset of this remarkable bird. It was a beautiful new spot to discover in the forest too whether it be one offs or regular species birds often lead us to discover New Forest locations. We had a nice walk at nearby Calshot afterwards on the day where it was nice to see Brent Geese and a Little Grebe. aAs February went on a string of wet New Forest walks would provide us an outlet to still get out with the dogs and walk through named storms Ciara and Dennis. This included woodland walks at Acres Down and Hawkhill. It was quite something to see nature’s full force with trees swaying in the wind and that rain a moment in the year as such that will stay with us it defined those few weeks and what better place to observe this than the forest. This little period of time culminated in a walk at Blackwater where the weather wasn’t so bad throughout it eased off rather and it even got a little bit sunny, as the landscape my sixth picture in this photoset shows. I took a good few more photos that day after a slight drought for them with the weather and I got a surprise when at a strong place for them and a place we only discovered for them we got a distant view of my first Hawfinch of the year late on in the arboretum. Always a big moment for this strong forest species for me.

To end February on Leap Day at Pig Bush we had another classic New Forest day for us at this my favourite forest car park and walk. In the height of my boom period of photos at that stage where I’d regularly produce around 20 per trip and it became the new normal for a bit the new normal would be even higher later in the year of course I took yet another high amount of photos and some I was so happy with wildlife and landscape. I also got some top birdwatching done with views of my first Lesser Redpolls and Jack Snipe of the year in the woods and a boggy area respectively. It was great for the first time ever for me to see redpolls out in the wild sort of so not at a place where there were bird feeders. Obviously Blashford Lakes is where I usually see them in this setting and I’ve had some amazing up close views of them there especially last year but seeing some in the open like this shows another side to the species really. Like many of my walks this year there was a brilliant supporting cast of other species seen on this walk including Treecreeper, Redwing, Goldcrest, Nuthatch and Great Spotted Woodpecker and Buzzard again. Both the February Pig Bush and March Milkham visits gave me huge senses of being in a wilderness and both stood out for months to come. The weekend after this before the March Eyeworth Pond call in I referenced above in another sunny patch of the day we had a great walk at Hawkhill again seeing the duo Buzzard soaring against a brilliant bright blue sky and Great Spotted Woodpecker flying high into trees again and I took some memorable landscapes including the seventh of my pictures in this photoset showing its distinctive grassland.

On a grey Friday off work on 20th March I spent part of it at Acres Down where I got a brief view of a Goshawk flying in the sky, only my second ever of a top bird we first discovered this place partly for. One of my standout birds of the year again. There were also a lot of Buzzards around in what became a day of raptors with Peregrine and Sparrowhawk seen at Winchester Cathedral later in the day and Buzzard at home too. Alongside a Pennington visit the next day where I saw my first Sand Martins this year these were to be my last New Forest trips before the Covid-19 enforced hiatus in the first lockdown. What a way to sign off for a bit. When there later in the year I was happy to see my first Tree Pipit and Redstarts of 2020. Both exceptional species especially the former that I felt so lucky to see this year. I’ve had a great record for seeing Redstarts down the years especially in the forest which I was proud I could carry on with but the Tree Pipit I didn’t manage to see last year at all after a three year run of seeing them before so I was happy to see it on a hot and sunny day singing a bit too these two are among my birds of the year for many reasons. On a showery but quite humid July Saturday it was great to see a Red Deer in the New Forest on our way to nearby to Acres Down Millyford Bridge. A pretty nice view of it through vegetation. The second Red Deer I’d seen this year at that stage, quite unusual for us even more special that it was a New Forest sighting though as they’re such a key part of the biodiversity of the forest a key mammal there and I’ve not seen them here nearly enough in truth. On the walk at Millyford it was nice to see quite a few Song Thrushes and some foxgloves that appeared to have been knocked over but the flowers had started growing upwards from a sideways plant beside the river in woods it was beautiful to walk in that day a really sweet habitat I find which the New Forest hosts well which was interesting. It was also good to see a tree with mushrooms on that day too. We came back to Millyford Bridge later in July seeing more mushrooms, as well as Robin and cow both with young which was great, lots of Grey Wagtails it was lovely to see a great bird in this watery habitat, New Forest ponies, some Fallow Deers running through, lots of little moths and a Large Red Damselfly on a very relaxing Monday and tranquil walk on a Monday I had off work.

On the way back from Martin Down in May it was great to see a couple of adorable New Forest pony foals and Canada Geese with goslings by Janesmoor Pond. On the way back from Martin Down in July it was good to see some Fallow Deers and get great Stonechat and Goldfinch views in a layby on an ice cream stop by Stoney Cross when the forest landscape looked nice and atmospheric on a rainy day after seeing Goldfinch well before and after the walk at home. I had an astonishingly good day’s wildlife watching on a walk from Fritham to Cadman’s Pool in the New Forest on a very beautiful, hot and sunny second May bank holiday Saturday. On it I saw two beautiful Cuckoos and heard them on the walk my first of the year and I got second views this year and pretty spectacular ones too of Tree Pipit and Goshawk with two each seen. One Tree Pipit view was classic Tree Pipit with it singing loudly on top of a tree which was brilliant. On that day I also saw my first Southern Hawker and Keeled Skimmer dragonflies of the year, many Fallow Deers, many House Martins and Chaffinches, Redstart, Mistle Thrush, Buzzard and a few Small Heath butterflies. What a late spring day!

On 6th June I had a brilliant walk on a dry patch of a grey and showery day from Turf Hill to Deadman Hill. I felt a strong sense of wilderness of hearing the trees swaying a bit in the wind and smelling a summer heath. I also saw a little bit of early purple heather coming out and one of the habitat’s star species my first Silver-studded Blue butterfly of 2020 an amazing moment to see this precious species so nicely an early sighting for it in a year really on a mostly grey day slightly hunkered down on the slopes of Deadman Hill. A view of Yellowhammer, a young Stonechat, some Fallow Deers really closely, bog cotton grass and an adorable New Forest pony foal completed my highlights that day.

On a scorching Sunday at the height of a heatwave at Cadman’s Pool on a brief walk after another elsewhere in another national park the South Downs I was so happy to see my first Golden-ringed Dragonflies of the year flying over the steam here. Classic New Forest wildlife on a vintage summer wildlife day for me always a beautiful and well-marked dragonfly I aim to see in a year. I also got great Southern Hawker views of a female and did my last of many Big Butterfly Count surveys there seeing 8 Large White, 4 Gatekeeper, 4 Small White, 1 Holly Blue and also 1 Peacock which was nice adding some real variety of habitats for my butterfly counts this year. That day I was also thrilled to see like Golden-ringed Dragonfly a summer New Forest speciality two young Siskins, Bullfinch over a period I saw them a lot and lots of New Forest ponies on a hot day including foals after seeing adorable baby donkeys on the way there and a pig. The weekend after the weather had changed and it was a wet day the Saturday but on it I discovered a new place and had my first ever walk at Matley. It was nice to photograph a view here I had seen lots of times from the car on the way to and from other car parks we walk at very nearby and could never photograph I took the eighth picture in this photoset of this. The walk and on the way in was the first time I saw heather gloriously purple and at its peak this year so I thoroughly enjoyed seeing and appreciating that and getting photos I especially loved seeing it and photographing it when it rained hardest looking very atmospheric. A sight I adore in the forest especially. Wildlife wise it was great to see on that walk a Kingfisher briefly flying along a stream, Swallows quite late in their season over the heath, moths and lots of Robins. Lots of autumnal sightings that day too as I address early on in my autumnal highlights blog. The heather at its purple I expect of late summer but the autumn really was seeming to have come early in this strange year.

The heather looked glorious on a walk at Ashley Walk in the New Forest to the Leaden Hall area and back it was so purple and carpeted the landscape so nicely. I saw some top wildlife that day including another Common Grayling butterfly, Wheatears including young, Linnets, Stonechats, Meadow Pipits, Mistle Thrush, Buzzard, many Fallow Deers out on the heath two herds which was so nice to see it was particularly a great day for grazing animals with cattle calves, donkeys and New Forest ponies both with young also seen very well and included in my photos a few taken that day. In a great bit of flower action alongside the lovely heather I loved spotting my first ever devil’s-bit scabious a wonderful flower to see which I took the ninth picture in this photoset of. I identified it using the plant net app photo identification a kind Twitter friend suggested it to me and it became invaluable in my best ever year of flowers which I speak about more in my two butterfly related highlights posts. Other autumnal colour in the landscape and nice sky scenes on a showery to start the walk but mostly very nice afternoon stood out that day. We were back at Ashley Walk for our now annual October walk from here up to Leaden Hall of an afternoon to try and catch the Ring Ouzels coming through on their outward migration and we were so delighted to see at least two of these beautiful thrushes really well that day. It was a brilliant afternoon watching this truly special bird it was special to see them for a fourth time for me, and get views as I did of them they really were my best ever views of these birds for the length of views time wise and how clear I could see them in binoculars and landed the birds showed well and did exciting flyovers which I loved and make out the differences to the very similar Blackbirds which were about namely the white bib on the plumage of the male, the lighter and quite creamy underwings when flying and how much bigger they are which I particularly noticed that day. One of my best bird species seen this year too without doubt and it makes me so proud of the New Forest having these birds around they really are incredible. I also heard one make its nice “tak” noise that day and in the rich berry bushes with them and the Blackbirds was a Song Thrush. I took the tenth and final picture in this photoset of a Ring Ouzel that day. That day I also enjoyed seeing Buzzard flying over, get stunning Kestrel views of one right beside the path and with Meadow Pipits and Stonechat get brilliant clear views of a delightful Dartford Warbler one of my favourite birds flitting around at the tops of bushes. A famous New Forest species that I’ve had such a good year for them this was however the first I had seen in the forest this year which really matters to me as for such a rare bird the New Forest is a key refuge for them and it’s a key bird of the habitat and where I fell in love with it. We also took in great mushrooms, landscapes and sky views. And as I mention in my seventh of these posts about my autumn on the way home by Bramshaw I saw my first pigs out for pannage of the year which is always a memorable moments and some Fallow Deers during their rut at Leaden Hall.

I had a brilliant walk at Blackwater on 4th October when as I mention in my seventh of these posts about my autumn in which I mention the New Forest quite a bit as usual in also seeing a herd of Red Deers and red fly agaric mushrooms. But on that day I was so happy to see a cute, fascinating, beautiful and shy mammal a Muntjac Deer briefly it was a fantastic view of only my third ever and first of the year. It took my mammal year list to 17 making it my second highest ever after last year’s. It also meant for the first time ever after the Chinese Water Deer sighting in Norfolk meant I’ve seen all six wild British deer species in my life that I saw all six of them in a year quite special following last year seeing the five deer species I’d seen in my life this took it a stage further nicely. I also loved seeing another Lesser Redpoll on this fairly wet walk yet another I’d seen in the open forest this year which felt very satisfying to see this beautifully marked bird again I did enjoy seeing it as well as Coal Tit and two Treecreepers. The wildlife I saw on this day made me so proud to know, love and live so close to the New Forest and I enjoyed some great atmospheric views on a mostly wet day which I always love at Blackwater.

On 24th October one of my best days this autumn and ever for two autumnal features as I wrote about in my seventh of these posts about autumn we went back to Pig Bush for a third time this year. Alongside the autumnal bits it was a classic Pig Bush visit as on a pretty wet day it was interesting and beautiful to see the rain showers move through the big landscape. I also enjoyed seeing a second New Forest Kestrel in as many Saturdays quite close after the one at Ashley Walk, a dragonfly quite late either Migrant or Southern Hawker, lovely New Forest ponies and cattle with calves too. There were also lovely flowers around some nice yellow ones and scabious probably small scabious. This was a special day as our annual October Pig Bush visit as that’s when we first ever went there one of if not the favourite individual spot in the New Forest for me so it reminds us of how it looked that day and it was actually 10 years on from when we first went there. It was a fitting top afternoon for that occasion. I wrote about Pig Bush in my autumn as I have said and week off in June highlights posts in this year’s thread of blogs. The next day at Rockford Common I really liked seeing a rainbow over the heath and being the backdrop of New Forest ponies this was very beautiful, especially lovely with what rainbows came to mean in honour of our National Health Service this year. Other highlights were Roe Deer seen quite closely, Stonechats in the sun which was quite nice to see and some other autumnal things as I wrote about in that highlights post later in this thread of blogs. Also that day the day after the clocks went back this autumn as the sun came down over the heath walking through fairly dark woods we heard a loud barking noise. To my delight I looked up to see a smashing looking Raven fly over with its big beak and I got some great views of it. A really fantastic wild moment, as it had done before elsewhere it epitomised the wilderness of the New Forest for me, beautiful. A fitting end to what was a thrilling and packed wild New Forest weekend for me.

I wrote a little bit about the New Forest in my fifth highlights blog coming up in this thread about my week off in June this year, during which I saw my first Spotted Flycatcher of the year at Pig Bush which was a great moment for me. The New Forest gets mentioned in and indeed began with me seeing devil’s finger and the very rare and New Forest speciality nail fungus near Bolton’s Bench my bonus 11th and final post about my November and December.

#new forest #pig bush #hoopoe #great grey shrike #ring ouzel #landscape #photography #wildlife #butterflies #dragonflies #flowers #birds #birdwatching #uk #world #beautiful #lovely #happy #weather #hampshire #europe #south downs #national park #golden-ringed dragonfly #january #february #march #april #may #june

[the-fickle-muse]

The future has fangs

Colleseum AU timeline. Set post SUF 3k words.

Chapter 1 : You missed a spot.

It's quiet. Too, perfectly, quiet. There is not a bird in sight nor a single pitter of rain on the windowsill. The night is clear and crisp, sky sporting speckled stars like jewels, and the moon shone brightly.

Connie awakens with a flinch as bright pink light assaults her sleepy eyes. Lion, barging into her room via warping. Dropping his heavy head onto her lap as she sits up.

"Again?" Connie asks, exasperated on noticing the time. "Lion it's not even 3am, I have to study tomorrow." She sighs, roaming a hand over his silken fur. "You can't keep waking me like this or I'll be sending you home to sleep with Greg." 

He mowls softly, licking at her open palm with hardly any effort, forcing a creeping smile onto her face despite her eyes rolling. "Alright, fine, come on." 

A 'poff poff' of her hand hitting the airy duvet spurs him up and onto the bed. The mattress sounding its strain with a heavy groan. His padded paws kneading eagerly at the foot of her sleeping space before settling down with a wide but silent yawn…

The morning comes swiftly. Lion's heavy body scrambling down off of Connie's bed would have been enough to wake her, but to top it off he kept pacing the room and pawing at her covers. This had been going on for a little under a week now and the break in schedule was really getting to her system. She almost fell asleep during dinner yesterday. It was a disaster.

He glowered and grumbled while she got changed, clearly riled up about something and scratching impatiently at the clean carpet. 

"Hold on, let me grab my bag. Steven won't start without us, Lion, you know that." Her soothing did little to quell his enthusiasm, however, tail flicking back and forth until she was finally ready to leave. They were so behind schedule...

Warp-riding with Lion was always exhilarating, regardless of how many times she had done it before. It could be nauseating to some people, but luckily Connie was one of those special few. Not many humans could tolerate gem nonsense like she could- even Greg suffered from time to time and he had been exposed to it much longer than she had.

On straightening her bag strap and climbing up, the loud space-bending roar wobbled a few innocent stuffed animals sitting on her nightstand. In a matter of moments the whole room had dissolved from view, her hands gripping the thick fur of Lion's mane. A brief, indescribable second of weightlessness… and then the heavy 'THUD' of their landing. Gravity was suddenly back, almost twice as heavy as before, as his paws thundered across dirt ground. Slowing to a trot, walk, an eventual halt.

As she reached down to pat his shoulder, the realisation that they weren't outside of Steven's current bed and breakfast set in. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she sat upright and twisted to look in all directions. It was densely packed forest on all sides. "Um. Lion?" Connie's tone held a bit of bewilderment but no accusatory notes. "Where are we?"

Lion rarely warped to the wrong place… and even more scarcely did it without having a reason. Her hands retreated to the strap of the large bag that weighed heavily on her shoulder. She slid off of the big pink cat's back to stand on her own and look around.

Lion breathed in short, rapid, breaths. Searching for something in the frosty morning air. The taste of damp foliage and a slight breeze lingered in the woods. Ears picking as they filtered out the white noise of the rustling leaves and Connie's boots grinding up the grit beneath them.

She opens her mouth, ready to ask Lion if they could leave, but was cut short as his loud bellowing howl interrupted her train of thought. Lion repeatedly called out, pausing to listen for something after each one, before marching onward. Connie hadn't heard any replies to Lion's shouting, but clearly he did, trotting through the undergrowth with heavy steps.

Thinking quickly, Connie rummaged through her bag to find her phone. She Jogged to keep up with Lion as the cellular device latched onto a signal. Thank goodness Peridot had made adjustments, or she might have been out of luck.

Several texts pinged onto the screen, one after another, clearly having been delayed from delivery by her phone being off in her bag all morning.

[Good morning!]

[Food is going to get cold, haha.]

[Connie?]

[Connie is everything ok?]

It's Steven. Of course it was. She was late, and not responding, who knows how worried he might be by now. Stumbling awkwardly over a fern, she taps at the on-screen keyboard.

[Steven! Lion warped me into the middle of nowhere, I'm so sorry we're late.]

[You're worried about being late in the middle of nowhere?]

[Instead of worrying about being lost?]

[It’s just a bad warp, I think.]

[Where are you, can you describe it?]

[Forest. Lots of trees, lots of bushes.] [hold on.]

[???]

[Hey, a landmark! There's a big rock here, really tall, with smooth straight sides. Looks like a broken obelisk. There's a few deep scratches in the corner.]

[Wait, that's not far from here]-  

Connie's gaze snaps up from her phone to the pillar as an overwhelming sense of danger grabs at her shoulders much too late. Something large barrels into her side, knocking her to the ground. The phone clatters off of pebbled dirt. 

Sucking air through her teeth at the grazed skin along her palms, she scrambles to flip onto her back and face the threat head on.

Something tall and wide looms over her with a heavy growl. The sound was grating, like stone being dragged across a marble floor, every hair on the back of her neck standing on end. Its head eclipses the radiating daylight, fur glowing gold from behind. A stretched shadow blotted out the warm rays of sun. It raised a heavyset paw, ready to bring it down atop Connie's chest. But at the last possible moment she snaps back to attention, rolling out of the way as it slams into the ground with enough force to shake the earth.

A roar interrupts the scuffle, Lion springing out of a wall of foliage to tackle Connie's assailant while she gets back on her feet. There's a violent blur of fur and claws before the both of them roll in locked combat through the densely packed ferns and out of sight. Her heart thunders, adrenaline finally reaching into her bones to provide a sudden buzz of energy, the scrapes and scratches along her knees and arms deadened and numb.

She can still hear Lion and the giant creature crashing through the trees. Her mouth runs dry as she scrambles to pick up her shattered phone and desperately try to turn it on. To no avail. The screen, voided beneath a webbed shattering of glass, was far beyond use. 

The forest hisses with the beasts' battle as Connie drags her foot across the forest floor, gouging a deep arrow into the pebbly soil in the direction of the uproar; sprinting off through the undergrowth soon after. The fresh air of the low hanging trees would have been nice if it wasn't clouded by an ever so subtle metallic stain in her bruised nose. Ears trained in on the yowls and growls of Lion’s struggles against the creature whose rampant swipes had left large, splintered trenches in a path of heavily leaning trees…

The hurried crunching of Steven's flip flops almost drowned out his huffing and puffing as he sprinted through the trees, an arm raised up in front of him to keep swatting branches and nosey brambles out of his way. 

Connie had stopped responding to his texts, something that normally he would chalk up to her being busy… But the past few nights he had been haunted by unearthly howls and distant thunder. The stone column Connie described set off a varied array of red flags. It was nearby, not visible from his bed and breakfast window, but close enough that the grinding crunches of breaking stone had been keeping him awake all night.

An eerie silence closed in around him as finally the treeline gave way to a small opening where the midday sunlight came beaming down bright and fierce. The towering shadow of the stone pillar, exactly as he had imagined it. Stretched up to the canopy above with just a slight lean to one side. A lower corner, around at his head height, had large chips missing. Carved out with reckless dismissal. This must be where Connie was before she stopped texting back…

His heart hammered, imagining the worst. But, after taking a second to catch his breath, he knew she would be alright. She was strong, smart, brave… and something aching at the centre of his chest understood she would be ok.

The spinning thoughts took an abrupt back seat as something on the floor caught his eye - Little flecks of glass, but more importantly, a neatly scrawled mark in the dirt. Big and easily visible in the darker soil under the deadened leaves, a clear arrow pointing out toward the opposing treeline. “Of course! Arrows, Connie, you're a genius!” 

One led to another, and another, each getting smaller and more hastily scribbled. Though he focused on trailing the breadcrumb line a few sights and sounds didn't go unnoticed. It felt as though the woods themselves were trying to smother him, keep him from moving forward. But his desire to confirm Connie's safety was keeping it at bay.

A piercing roar undermined his growing unease, replacing it with dense, unbridled determination as he closed the remaining gap at full throttle. He practically explodes from the tree line and out into an open clearing, not putting time nor thought into what he was doing.

Connie stood battered and bruised on one side of the clearing, firmly holding Rose's greatsword out in front of herself in a threatening manner. Her hair had been ruffled up at the sides, adding more volume at the cost of looking a mess.

"Steven, look out!"

WHAM

His shield clanged as something hard and blunt rammed into it. Sandals skidded and dug into the loose dirt as, finally, he put a face to the threat he'd been waiting to see.

A beast, its form wild and unruly, stood snarling and poised ready for another hit. The burnt orange fur covering its body donned a thick mane of dark browns like a ragged cape draped over its face, shoulders, and back. The front pair of legs held large muscular paws while the back held less impressive but still dangerous two-toed hooks.

In its mouth was the real prize. Hanging down beside its chin on either side sat two long, curved fangs, glittering and gleaming under the blinding sunlight. A gemstone. Striped like the rest of its body but richer in colour.

Steven heaved the creature off of him, struggling from the weight for only a few seconds before it retreated. It gives Connie just enough time to start running over.

Her movement clearly caught the beast’s unseen eyes as it reacted with a volatile pounce. Only to yelp when another of Steven's constructs, a hexagonal patterned wall, crashed into its side - throwing it off course to tumble into the dirt. 

"A corrupted gem?! I thought you'd dealt with all of these!" Connie gasped, finally getting to Steven's flank to brandish her weapon once more in the gem’s direction.

"I guess there's still some we haven't found yet…" He panted, an air of uncertainty to the reply. Had they really missed one? Were there more? If it's this aggressive, why hadn't they heard of it before now?

His theorizing was cut short when the gem, finally back on its feet, began to pace menacingly ahead of them. Steven's hands, usually steady, began to tremble. Every muscle in his chest seizes up on spotting the large, limp shape the gemstone beast was guarding.

Lion. Tired and ragged with visible scratches along his short velvety fur, one of the most prominent of which had been partially hidden by his thick, petal pink mane. He shifted occasionally, dragging his chin along the floor to try and see Steven, one eye squeezed shut to avoid a headache.

The sight had distracted Steven, flung his mind out of the present and into a stagnant void. Enough so that as the beastly gemstone approached Connie was the first to make a move in retaliation.

A wide sweeping arc from Rose's sword clashed with the gem' s muzzle in a harsh slash, forcing it up onto its hind legs. A startling screech, close to painful, jogged Steven from his stupor in time to see the creatures razor claws headed for Connie's face.

"STOP!"

The floor cracked under the force of his yell. Shattering stones and sending spiralling cracks racing through the clearing. A fluffy or birds erupting from the canopy to flee the sudden blast. Connie flinches, covering her ears, the absence of ambience afterwards was almost nauseating. Her shoulders had tensed, head turned away and ready to bear a cut...

But… she wasn't hit. 

No. Instead the gemstone simply stands. It glares down at her with it's outstretched paw still raised for a moment until finally lowering. The beast staggers a weighty step backwards before thumping back onto all fours with no signs of hostility. It was… whining. Soft and quiet, almost unbearable in the deafening silence.

Steven shuddered from head to toe, staring wide-eyed at the space between Connie and the monster as if seeing something else in their place. His skin, radiating a vibrant pink, shuddered. Eyes clouded with a build up of tears that threatened to fall.

"Steven?"

Connie's soft, concerned, voice brought his shattered shaking breaths back from the brink of choking. As if realising he'd begun to glow he closed his hanging mouth and swallowed hard. Clearing the sweat from his palms by repeatedly gripping and letting go of his jacket.

His arms tore themselves from their rigid positions, a hand coming up to ruffle at his curly hair to ease some tension. "Are… Are you-" 

"Yes. I'm okay Steven, it…. listened to you?" Connie interrupted, both trying to stay defensive to the skulking gem and sound supportive toward Steven. It’s not an easy act to juggle as she skirts towards him with an outstretched hand. She waits patiently as he hesitantly took it and squeezed softly, as if checking it was really there. "We need to get to Lion..."

"Lion,” he parroted back at her. A heavy weight had settled on his shoulders, staring at the now-pacing gem whose whines had become loud enough to consistently hear. Lion had managed to drag himself from the floor and prop himself up behind the pacing beast, still looking a little worse for wear.

"Hey! Back away. Go on, get away from him!" The authoritative drive to his tone caught Connie a little off guard after what had seemingly been a lot of worry a moment ago. But, looking as though it understood the orders, the gem began to move aside. Staying as far away from them as possible, muzzle trained on Steven as if transfixed… or terrified.

The interlocked pair make a beeline for their pink friend, Connie not once taking her eyes off of the gem as Steven lets go of her hand and throws himself at Lion's mane. He hugs him thoroughly before trying to heal some of his more serious scratches first.

Most of them close just fine, and only a fraction of those had been bleeding at all. Lions after all do have very thick and loose skin for this exact reason. But the deeper, slightly staining, mark tracing down his jawline and into his neck ruff quickly became harder to care for when Lion suddenly jerks away from Steven's hands. He stands up fully and shakes all of his messy, misplaced fur. 

"Lion, wait, I've still got to do this one-" Steven huffed, again licking his hand and reaching for Lion's chin only to have him growl and pull back a second time.

Immediately after the deep rumble escapes his throat, the big cat winces horribly. He brings his head down into his own mane in an obvious show of pain and chuffs out quiet murmurs of affection into Steven's chest as he presses his nose up against the boy's shirt. He exhales loudly with a pitiful look. 

"Connie, I don't know if Lion can take you home. He won't let me heal his neck and I think making loud noises is hurting him."

Her brows shot up in surprise. She breaks off her staring competition with the restless beast to run a hand over Lion's soft, cushioned muzzle. "Oh, Lion. You did your best, I'm sorry I couldn't join the fight sooner, you were just trying to help." She muses regretfully, scratching behind his ear as he purred a wheezy off-tune purr.

The tender moment was ruined shortly thereafter as rustling in the trees caused every hair along the saber-like gem's spine to prickle. For the first time since Steven had spoken to, it its hidden gaze snapped away from him and towards the leaves. Scanning over the tree line behind them in rushed glances before turning tail to flee and thunders off into the woodland.

Steven tenses, ready to give chase, but Connie's scraped up hand lightly rested down on his shoulder. Against all better judgement, perhaps they should let it go for now...

They'll meet again. He was sure of it.

#su #suf #suf au #steven universe #steven universe future au #connie maheswaran #Tiger's eye #steven universe oc #su oc #gem oc #lion #keep in mind it's an AU not a direct follow on to the original show #there are changes #some might not make sense right away

[villainscomplex]

O, My Heart

i actually forgot about my @it-zines piece, but I was forcibly reminded, and in light of BNHA Chapter 290, no time like the present to actually post it. 

warnings for implied non-con, domestic and child abuse, among other things courtesy of Todoroki Enji.

YOU CAN ALSO FIND IT ON:

AO3

FFnet

Wattpad

Quotev

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

The first time she meets Todoroki Enji, Rei is fresh out of high school and looking forward to her future. She’s always been kind of indecisive about what she wants to do, but it’s easy enough to get a job as a receptionist at one of the local clinics. 

“You should be a hero with that quirk of yours.” Her coworker tells her in passing. “If I had a quirk that powerful, I’d go right into hero work.”

“If everyone was a hero, there wouldn’t be anyone left to do our jobs, don’t you think?” She retorts, but her coworker just frowns and carries on.

The first time she meets Todoroki Enji, the city is falling apart around her. People flee, shoving and pushing, as a villain topples buildings, sending rubble and concrete raining onto the civilians below. Rei isn’t a large person by any means and people spare her no expense. The ground is not a welcoming force, sharp with glass and rock shards. 

Rei’s first instinct is to panic. She’s a soft soul; situations with high tension and stress are bad places for her to be, and being in the path of stampedes of people and crumblings buildings is certainly one of those situations. She’s so busy dodging feet that she almost doesn’t notice the massive piece of concrete plummeting towards her until the shadow of it covers her.

Her heart jumps into her throat and her hand instinctively flies up, head jerking away to hide. She’s going to die here. 

Her ice responds to her call, a curved wall of glace protecting her, but the rubble never reaches her. 

The first time Rei meets Todoroki Enji, she is laying on her back in the middle of the carnage of a villain attack, and the sky is made of fire. 

For a moment, everything sort of loses focus. The edges of her ice start to turn to water, dripping down the sides of the glacier, but her eyes are fixed on the sky above her and it’s red and red and then a different kind of red, darker, and blue.

“You need to evacuate,” his voice cuts through the haze, and suddenly everything comes rushing back, “can you stand?”

“I-” Her voice fails her momentarily. “I think so.”

He doesn’t wait. The redheaded boy tows her up to her feet again, glancing between her and the glacier with a furrow in his brow. He couldn’t be any older than her, but there’s something about him that seems leagues beyond her. 

“That’s an impressive quirk,” he remarks offhandedly, “but you need to get to safety.”

He releases her and her arms are cold where his hands had been. “Wait,” she reaches out, snagging his sleeve, “what’s your name?”

She can’t think of eyes as clear and blue as his. There’s dirt smudges on his face, but the flames that frame his costume illuminate his features like a halo. She thinks that he must be the type of person who carries the sun on his shoulders.

“Todoroki,” he tells her, “Todoroki Enji.”

And he marches back into the battle.

--

They call him The Flame Hero: Endeavor and Rei doesn’t think for a second she’ll ever see him again. She allows herself to think about him frequently for this reason alone, her knight in flaming armor.

“Oh,” says someone on the subway, jostling her, “s- wait, I know you.”

Rei lifts her gaze and meets the very blue eyes she’s been thinking about. “Oh,” she replies, eloquently.

It’s a week later and he tells her, “You never told me your name.”

Her heart ignites like his armor. “Rei.” 

Enji’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but Rei doesn’t think much of it. 

--

Just like that, she starts seeing him frequently. He’s kind to her, even if his personality is rough around the edges and he’s always bothering her about her ice quirk. His smiles come rarely, but when it does, it’s lopsided and endearing. She falls a little more in love with it. 

With him.

“I’m going to become a top hero,” he tells her, taking her hand in a strong grip, “and then I’m going to marry you.”

At the time, it’s less of a threat and more of a promise. At the time, she doesn’t realize what that promise entails.

When she’s twenty, she comes home to Enji eating dinner with her family.

“Rei,” her mother scolds, “you never told me you were dating the number two hero. I’m so happy you’re getting engaged.”

There’s something a little off about her mother’s voice, but Rei is too overwhelmed at the words. She’s getting married. She’s marrying Enji. He ducks his head a little as if he’s embarrassed, and Rei gazes at him like he carries the sun.

And to her, maybe he does. 

(For a while, she believes he genuinely loves her.)

--

Todoroki Rei, officially, dreams of a fairytale life. She wants to live in a small house with a happy family, where she can spend her days cooking and tending to flowers. It’s not like that, she knows, not with her husband being the number two hero, but she dreams.

It’s hard being isolated for a while. She no longer lives with her family and Enji is rarely home, but Rei tries to keep herself entertained in the large home Enji’s selected for them. She tries gardening, but it turns out she doesn’t have much of a green thumb. She cooks, but there’s no one but her to cook for until Enji gets home late and tired. She cleans and cleans and cleans, but eventually, the house is spotless and there’s nothing left to organize.

But still, she’s happy with Enji. For a while.

When Touya is born, there’s a new little light in Rei’s world, all red hair and blue eyes like Enji. He looks nothing like his mother and everything like his father, and Rei adores him. The pride on Enji’s face when he’s born is like nothing she’s ever seen from him before. It makes her heart swell.

They’ll be a family.

She doesn’t notice it yet, but something changes in Enji that day, the moment he holds their baby in his arms, large and intimidating and out of place in the small hospital room. Rei is so, so happy.

But Enji is happier.

(Until he’s not.)

--

The change is slow. At first, he’s an attentive father. And then gradually, creeping like darkness, obsessive. The closer Touya gets to the quirk presenting age, the more Enji hovers, watching like a hawk, like a wolf watches a rabbit.

Touya’s quirk is fire. Rei knows first because she tends the burn his flames leave behind on his soft skin. Enji’s eyes are painfully bright, twin slits of ice, when he learns of Touya’s quirk and the potential his fire holds. And all at once, they’re bottomless pits of freezing water, cruel and piercing and angry when he’s told that Touya’s quirk would almost permanently deform him if used too much.

Enji is suddenly very absent again. Rei has Touya now, but somehow, she’s still painfully lonely. Touya stays happy, but somehow that makes it worse.

Fuyumi comes next. Touya is overjoyed that he’ll have a sibling to play with now, even if she is a girl and years younger than him. Enji steps into their lives again, and Rei begins to think that he’ll be around more with two children instead of just Touya.

For a while, he’s doting again.

They’re happy again.

For a while.

Fuyumi inherits only an ice quirk, similar to Rei’s but nowhere near as powerful. She sees the look in Enji’s eyes, twin flints of ice, of hellfire, burning into the backs of their children. His lips press into a tight line, and Rei is suddenly reeling, wondering what had gone wrong and why she kept failing to recognize the man who came home to her every night. 

A part of her wishes he would stop coming back, She tucks that part away neatly, safe behind locked doors and thrown away keys,

But she begins to dread Enji’s presence, dread his presence in their room and his hands, hard and insistent and again, again, again.

--

Enji buys her a canary for her birthday. He sets in in the front room in its gilded white cage, where it sings and sings and sings. The bird seems content in its cage, where it’s sheltered and cared for, but Rei can’t help but wonder if it ever wants to stretch its wings. 

Sometimes, the bird gazes back at her, head tipped, as if he’s wondering why she hasn’t left her cage either.

Rei can’t remember the last time she’d talked to any of her old friends. 

The bird keeps singing.

Rei lets it go and Enji doesn’t once take notice to the silence.

Natsuo is born whether Rei likes it or not. He’s a hard birth, long and complicated, and the doctor tells her that having any more children could potentially kill her. She only gathers up energy to smile placidly at him and nod absently as the words pass in one ear and out the other. It’s a risk she knows they’ll take if Enji isn’t satisfied. She’s beginning to think Enji won’t be satisfied until she’s in the ground. She isn’t sure what he wants from her anymore.

At one point, Rei thinks that maybe the awkward boy with the gorgeous eyes would exist only in her daydreams, and then in her city, and then in her life. At one point, Rei is just a girl in love with a boy, and she thinks Enji is just a boy in love with a girl and that’s enough for both of them.

Natsuo inherits an ice quirk.

Nothing is ever enough for Todoroki Enji. 

There’s a brand of bone-deep exhaustion that takes root in her body and makes a home there. 

She thinks about the canary. She thinks about flying far, far away. 

--

Rei and Shouto are both hospitalized when he’s born. It’s a close call for both of them, but they pull through, and the doctors smile when Rei cries, thinking it’s of happiness.

Enji’s eyes are wild, only for Shouto, only for the child who could be his last chance to achieve whatever goal he’s unwittingly dragged Rei into. He visits Rei once for appearances, twice to take her and their fourth child home. 

Shouto is a gentle child, cheerful and toddling, but it’s painful to her how much the half of him looks like Enji. He’s split clean down the center, half her, half his father, and Rei tries to smile when he seeks her attention. It’s more than she can do for Touya. She loves her eldest dearly, but when she looks at him, she sees Enji.

Shouto is five when he presents his quirk, split straight down the middle with fire and ice. Suddenly, Rei understands what Enji’s been doing this whole time. It was never her. It was her quirk. He wanted to create something powerful enough to surpass the both of them and everyone else.

She knows he’s ambitious, but she’s severely underestimated how much. She’d known about quirk marriages, but she hadn’t thought for a second her family would hand her off into one.

Rei hides Shouto’s quirk as long as she can, but inevitably, Enji finds out. It only takes a second and Shouto is that songbird, locked away, separated from his siblings and treated like a tool and a soldier instead of a child. 

His happiness is feral and cruel and terrifies Rei to the bones.

“Enji,” she pleads, shielding Shouto with her own body as he doubles over on the floor, sick from the horrendous training Enji puts him through, “please, he’s still only a child. He-”

If Todoroki Rei had any lingering feelings about their prior relationship, Enji physically shatters them in a heartbeat. She’s standing one moment and on the ground the next, and everything aches, from the stinging in her face to the way her heart splits down the middle.

When she sees Enji, she sees a man unfamiliar to her, eyes so blue and bottomless that she could sink forever. When she sees Enji, she sees a wraith of a man, a spectre surrounded in flames and fury and ambition, a man who cares for nothing but his goals and will plow through anything to get to them. There had never been a point where Rei thought, even for a second, that Enji would raise his hand against her.

But he does.

And with it, he slams the door of her cage shut.

#todoroki family #my writing #bnha #todoroki rei #todoroki enji #aftermath zine #it zines #writing

[adrenaline-roulette]

Fic ideas that I don’t know if I should continue

Well howdy there folks, so here’s the thing, I’m looking through my saved documents and have found a few fics that I’ve started (And by started I mean, I’ve written like 1 page max for each one) For one reason or another, I never got around to continuing them, and reading over them again now, I’m not sure if I should.  I’ll post what I have bellow, but I would really love to know if anyone out there would be interested in reading these? 

If you are interested and would like to be tagged in the eventually finished product, just let me know 😊

Soulmate Fic. Pairing: Joe Mazzello x Reader 

Have you found your soulmate yet? If not, don’t panic, they’re out there somewhere! There have been cases of people not finding their soulmate until they turn sixty! But how do you know if you have found, the one? While scientists are still unable to explain exactly how this occurs, the moment you are in close proximity to your soulmate, you are able to hear them whenever they sing. But keep in mind, it is only when they sing, not when they listen to music!                                                                       

**********

“If it hadn't been for Cotton-Eye Joe I'd been married a long time ago Where did you come from, where did you go? Where did you come from, Cotton-Eye Joe?”

The moment you first hear your soulmate’s voice singing in your head, you practically had a heart attack. Okay, so not quite, but you did find yourself quite flustered. So much so, that the egg you were in the midst of cracking for the cake you were making, ended up with the egg itself in the trash, while the shell was deposited into the cake mix. “Bloody fucking fuckety fuck!” You hiss, as you scoop the cracked shell out of the flour mix.  This was certainly not how you had imagined your first encounter with your soulmate would go. You always heard about couples who had cute first interactions! Like one of them was singing old show tunes, or something of the likes. But oh no, what do you get? God damned Cotton Eye Joe.

You hear a door slam in the apartment, followed but feet pounding down the corridor. “I heard swearing, is everything alright?” Your best friend Ben appears in the kitchen entry, his green eyes scanning the room for any signs of injury.

“I’m fine, don’t stress.” You smile softly, the frown which had enveloped your features only moments ago, quickly vanishing as you take in Ben’s worried expression.

He nods, blonde curls swaying over his forehead. “Alright, if you’re sure Y/N, because I’m more than happy for you to borrow my oven, but I’m not alright with you injuring yourself in my home!”

“Duly noted. Thank you Benjamin.” You poke your tongue out at him, before turning back to the recipe, scanning over the paper for the next step. Ben had been more than willing for you to borrow his oven for the afternoon, the baking bug had bitten you, but you had recently found yourself without a functioning oven, which is how you found yourself stood in his apartment now, baking a monstrosity of a chocolate cake, complete with four layers.

Ben slides up next to you, leaning his back against the kitchen counter, looking over at you quizzically. “No, but really, what was the swearing all about?”

You shrug half-heartedly, keeping your eyes focused on the mundane task of whisking the ingredients together. “It was nothing, just heard something surprising is all.”

Ben nods, and for a split second you truly believe he will drop the subject, but you sadly have no such luck. “As in, you heard something surprising on the radio, or you heard something surprising in your head….”

Turning in his direction, you shoot a glare his way, hoping it would convey your desire for him to no longer pursue his line of questioning. “Y/N Y/L/N, I swear to any and all higher powers, if you mean to tell me that you just heard your soulmate while standing in my fucking kitchen, I will murder you!”

Your silence seems to be answer enough, and Ben lets out a screech, before planting his large hands over your shoulders, and pushing you towards the front door. “Ben! What to hell are you doing?” You squawk, as he marches you out of his apartment, and down the three flights of stairs that lead to the main entrance. “Seriously Ben, the oven is still on, you shouldn’t leave an oven unattended!”

Ben ignores you, removing one hand from your shoulder, for just long enough to open the double glass doors, before pushing you out and onto the street. “You will stand out here singing, until your soulmate finds you.”

Your mouth hangs open, as you turn to look at the triumphant grin on your best friend’s face. He genuinely looks proud of this plan he has come up with, and it worries you that he doesn’t seem to recognise the many, MANY flaws in this plan. “So what, I’m just supposed to stand out here for the rest of my life then? Ben your apartment is on a bloody main road! Whoever it was, was probably just driving past!”

“Well here’s a good way to figure that out, can you still hear singing?”

You stop dead in your tracks, scowling at the blonde. You had been so preoccupied with being physically dragged outside, that you had stopped paying any attention to the song playing in your head. “Well, the song’s changed.” You mutter, listening to the chorus of the Phantom of the Opera theme.  You had to give your soulmate credit where it was due, whoever they were, they could certainly carry a tune. Though perhaps opera wasn’t their strong suit….

“I promise to put everything for your cake in the fridge alright? You can finish it off later on, but for now, I don’t want to see you back in my apartment for at least the next hour alright?”

---

Getting caught in the rain after work.  Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader

The phone rings, once, twice, three times. Neither you nor your fellow receptionist feel the desire to answer the incoming call, both of you knowing what the person on the other end of the line is after. It’s always the same, a patient will call up, desperate the see a Doctor immediately, paying no mind to the fact that they have just called on a Monday morning, three hours after the GP clinic had opened. You couldn’t count how many times you had been yelled at today by patients who couldn’t get their way. 

“I got the last one.” Jean smirks, gesturing to the incoming call with a pen.

“Oh, I didn’t realise we were keeping tally of how many calls we had answered today.” You grin back, swivelling in your chair to face the phone. Despite the constantly ringing phones, there had been an unexpected, but not unwanted lull in patients these past ten minutes, allowing yourself and Jean to take a bit of a breather from the chaos the morning had brought with it.

“Good morning, general practitioners’ clinic, Y/N speaking.” You greet, as you pick up the receiver, a friendly smile pasted over your lips. Rule one of working in a Doctor’s clinic, always speak with a smile in your voice.

“I’m dying.” A soft melodic voice wails through the line, causing you to pause mid-sentence. You would recognise that voice anywhere, whether you necessarily wanted to or not.

“Mister Taylor, I can assure you, you are not dying.” Jean turns to face you, raising a knowing eyebrow. She had played witness to what she called, yours and Mister Taylor’s ‘flirting’ for months now.

“And how do you know that?”

“Well, according to you Mister Taylor-“

“It’s Roger.”

“Sorry, Roger. According to you, you have been dying for the past week and a half. Either you had better hurry up and die, or recover immediately.”

The line goes silent for a moment, and you almost think that perhaps Roger had hung up. “Do you talk to all your patients like this?”

“No, only you.”

“Oh, well I’m honoured then.” There’s a soft laugh that breaks through Roger’s voice, and you can almost picture the cocky grin he’s sporting. He thinks he’s won, he always does. You know exactly how this conversation will end, it’s the same way your conversations have always ended. “So, will you let me take you out sometime soon? There’s a new pub that’s opened up on main, looks like it’s a little less dodgy than some of the others around.”

You pull the phone away from your lips to groan.

---

John Deacon has a new room-mate who doesn’t understand that paying the drums late at night is NOT socially acceptable. Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader

You press your face into your pillow with almost too much force, just escaping from bruising your nose, while your hands clamp down over your ears, a second pillow arched over the back of your head, the sides pressed firmly against the shell of your ear.  Three weeks this had been going on, for three whole weeks, you found yourself attempting to fall asleep every night, with a pile of pillows threatening to suffocate you. Why, you may be asking? Well for three weeks straight, your usually quiet next-door neighbour had had someone staying with him, and that someone had clearly decided bringing a drum kit with him, was a phenomenal idea! Of course, you wouldn’t mind the drumming if it occurred during the day, but for some reason, this person had decided the ideal time to practise, was from ten in the evening onwards. Surely you couldn’t be the only one in your apartment building who had an issue with the late night percussionist? Though maybe they were all the same as you, unsure how to approach the subject of asking them to stop? You had known John Deacon for a few months now, he had moved in back in July,  and you had had a few fleeting conversations with the gentle man, mostly when you happened to cross paths while collecting mail, or taking out the garbage. during those chats, he never seemed like the type of person to condone such ungodly behaviour. Though you suppose, looks can be deceiving. So, after three weeks and two days of only sleeping for close to three hours a night, you decided to finally take matters into your own hands.  By writing a well worded letter.

“Dear Mr John Deacon’s housemate. If you could please refrain from playing your drums in the evening, during the time period where most people are attempting to sleep, that would be greatly appreciated. While I have no issues with your drumming in general, I do have an issue with you practising so late in the day. Perhaps you would consider playing in the afternoon instead, whilst most occupants of this apartment building, are at work? Kind regards, Y/N.”

You smile triumphantly down at the letter, folding it neatly before placing it into an envelope, leaving it unsealed, then resting it on your kitchen counter, you would drop it off on your way to work. Curling up back on your bed, you turn a pointed glare towards your bedroom wall, the thin plaster being all that separated you from the obnoxious drummer. “One way or another, I will make you stop drumming.” You grumble, before returning to your original position, of being buried beneath your pillows.

By the time your alarm clock sprang to life, you had managed to squeeze in another two hours of sleep, which made for a record four and a half hours of sleep for the night! You groan, as you pull yourself out from the comfort of your bed, scrubbing your palms over your face. As you pad into the bathroom, you scarcely want to look at yourself in the mirror, the bags beneath your eyes having grown progressively darker these past few weeks. Even your workmates had begun to notice how sleep deprived you were, you’re typically cheerful demeanour was being drowned out by your constant yawning, and continuous coffee consumption. You make quick work of getting ready for the day, throwing your hair up into a bun at the crown of your head, before applying a light coverage of makeup, just enough to try and hide the purple shadows of your eyes. It does little to help, and as the fluorescent light of your bathroom shines down on you, it occurs to you that you like just a tad corpse like. “Sexist dead girl there is…” You smirk, as you swipe a red lipstick across you lower lip.

 Back in your bedroom, you rummage through your closet for a clean shirt and skirt, before making a mental note to do laundry when you get home. Hopping on the spot, you simultaneously kick on one of your brown heels, whilst also buttoning up the pale pink blouse you had chosen for the day. You swap legs for the other shoe, as you tuck your shirt into your cream coloured skirt, fastening the zipper, before adjusting the waist band so the decorative brown buttons sat at your hips. Finally, after a couple of minutes of searching, you retrieve your purse from under your bed, frowning at yourself for placing it in such an awkward place.

Your shoes click against the tiled floor of your kitchen as you contemplate making a cup of coffee before leaving for the day, glancing up at the clock hung high on the wall, you realise you don’t have the time, and dart towards the front door. You skid to a stop just before the front door swings shut, holding your hand out to keep the door open, as you use your free hand to rummage through your purse, ensuring your key was there. It wouldn’t be the first time you had allowed the door to shut, with your key on the complete opposite side of where you needed it to be, just last week you had allowed this to happen while you went grocery shopping. It had ended up being a hard lesson learned, not to mention expensive, once the locksmith had made his appearance.

Upon finding your key safely hidden at the bottom of your bag, you turn towards your neighbour, marching the short distance to his apartment.  Stopping in front of John’s door, you tighten your grip on the envelope in your right hand. Perhaps half an hour or so ago, you had heard the door slam shut, but you had no way of knowing if both occupants had left, or just one. You contemplate knocking, to hand the letter to whoever may be inside, but quickly think better of it, and slip the think envelope between the door and the doorframe, either someone would find it when they arrived home, of it would fall to the floor in front of whoever opened the door from inside the apartment. With a spring in your step, you made your way downstairs, and out to the street walking towards the Doctor’s clinic where you worked. A smile tugging at your lips, as you imagined a peaceful night, with absolutely no drumming.

                                                                      *****

A deep frown had settled over Roger’s brow, as he held the letter between fisted hands, sitting at the dining table inside Deaky’s apartment. “What the fuck is this?” He snarled, as he read, then reread the letter. He payed little mind to the front door opening, an only bothered to look up when he heard John’s voice break the silence which had filled the room.

“Looks like a letter Rog.” Deaky smirks, as he kicked his shoes off by the door, before folding his arms across his chest and looking at the fuming drummer. “What’s going on?”

Roger tore his gaze away from the neat script he had been staring at for a solid twenty minutes, focusing now on his flatmate. “Nothing, it’s nothing Deaky. Don’t worry about it.” He finally sighed out, folding the letter back into the envelope, and pushing away from the table. He could vaguely recall John mentioning someone who lived in the building by your name, but he hadn’t actually met you, which made the letter you had sent, cut just the little bit more. You had said you didn’t mind his drumming, yet you didn’t want to hear it? Why not! Roger though of himself as a bloody good drummer! Anyone should feel honoured to hear him play, especially for free! “Hey, do you know where Y/N lives?” He called over his shoulder, as he made is way towards the sofa, where he had left his music journal and pencil.

John raised a curious eyebrow, has he moved around the kitchen, setting about to put together some cheese on toast. “Uh yeah, she lives next door, to the right. Why?” It wasn’t like Roger to ask where a woman lived, typically he found that sort of information out for himself.

“No reason, just heard the name around while I was checking for mail today, and realised I didn’t know here is all.”

John narrowed his eyes into a glare, which went unnoticed by Roger, as he began to scribble away in his journal. Roger hadn’t collected the mail today, he had…. Deciding it best to not question Roger’s motives, John continued around the kitchen, the only noises to be heard throughout the apartment were those of the frying pan heating up on the stove, and Roger’s fast moving pencil over paper.

“Deaky, I’m just ducking out for a few minutes, I’ll be back yeah?” Roger didn’t wait for a reply, before darting out into the hall, the paper he had been writing on, folded into quarters. Turning right, just as John had said, Roger steps up to what assumes must be your door. Just as you had done mere hours earlier, he slips the folded paper between the door and door frame.

---

Roger endeavours to sleep with a woman from every country before his 30th birthday. However the woman he picks from France proves to be more of a challenge than originally expected. Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader 

The dingy patchwork sofa bounced precariously as Freddie flopped onto it, pressing himself firmly in between Roger and Brian who had originally been the sole occupants of the sofa. The knitted blanket that was draped over the back slides to the ground, as its resting place is disturbed by the jostling lead singer. Finally, Freddie settles himself, crossing one leg over his knee, and turning his attention entirely on Roger. “How’s your body count looking these days?”

Roger flicks the ash off the end of his cigarette, before taking another drag, blowing the smoke up towards the sky. “Are we talking fucks, or murders?” He asks casually. John peers over at his band mates from his seat on the armchair, frowning somewhat at Roger’s response.

Brian smirks gently, shaking his head at the blonde’s antics, while Freddie lifts an eyebrow up at him. “For interests’ sake, let’s say both…” He finally decides, lighting a smoke between his lips, breathing in deeply.

“25, 67.” He states simply, stretching his legs out on the rug beneath the sofa, digging his toes into the soft material. This time, John’s expression changes from that of mild interest, to one of pure intrigue, a smirk forming over his lips.

“I can’t tell if that’s an unusually high number of murders or strangely low number of fucks.” Brian teases, reaching his arm around Freddie to punch Roger’s shoulder playfully.

Roger rolls his eyes, taking another long drag from his dwindling cigarette. “One of those numbers will be going up this weekend too.”

Freddie squints at the drummer, as he assesses which number they were currently discussing. Deciding to give the blonde the benefit of the doubt, he figured he was about raise his ‘fuck’ number, rather than ‘murder’ number.  “And do tell dear Roger, who is the lucky lady to be?”

John lets out a loud chuckle, causing the three men to look over at him, all with equal questioning looks adorning their features. “Oh don’t look at me like that. Especially you Rog, I know damned well who you’re talking about!”

A pair of piercing blue eyes squint at John from across the room, the bassist grinning at the drummer. “Just to make sure we’re on the same page, who are you talking about Deaky?”

John rolls his eyes, before begrudgingly pushing himself up and out of the armchair he had made himself comfortable in, strutting his way over to the back of the rehearsal studio. Pinned to the far wall is a world map, currently with pins stuck all across Europe, signifying where Queen would be next touring. “If my suspicions are correct, I believe Roger will be taking a bit of a drive across the border tonight.” John grins wickedly, gesturing with his index finger to France

---

Song fic - Jet Lag by Simple plan Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader (Could easily be changed to another Queen member if that what y’all would like to see!)

You collapse on your bed, sinking into the plush blankets, and massive pile of decorative pillows, it had been a long, and lonely week. It felt as if the standard five-day work week you had just endured, had been going on for at least a month. Though according to the red crosses on your calendar, it really was Friday the 1st, and not in fact Friday the 29th like it felt. The lonely part stemmed from the lack of company in your apartment over this past week, your boyfriend/ partner in crime, Roger Taylor was currently on tour with the rest of Queen, somewhere in Australia. While he had been away, your old school friend had come to stay while you had the house to yourself, but she had left for a business trip on Monday leaving you once again alone. You settle yourself more comfortably against your pillows, tilting your head back and to the side, keeping your eyes on the phone on your bedside table, just waiting for it to ring. Any minute now, you knew it would ring, and the anticipation of who would be calling had your heart racing.

The cool metal of Roger’s watch lay in your palm, and you clasped your fingers around the gold, circular face, rubbing your thumb gently against the glass. Just as you go to glance down at the time, the phone lets out a shrill ring. Once, twice, there isn’t a third. You dart your arm out quickly, and pick up the receiver, a wide grin spreading over your lips, showing off all your teeth. “Hello…” You ask softly with a bated breath.

“Y/N? Hi luv.” Roger’s smooth voice sends chills down your spine, goose bumps appearing over your arms.

 “What time is it where you are?”

“I’m in Sydney currently, and it is 9:15am. How about you?”

“6:15pm here, I just got home from work.”

“God, trying to figure out these time zones is making me crazy.”

“Hey, at least we’re doing better than at the beginning of the week. You were saying good morning, when it was midnight!”

“I just hate the thought of you alone. Five more days then I’ll be home.”

As if on cue, a rotund tortoiseshell cat leaps onto the end of the bed, purring loudly as she rubbed up against your toes.  “I wouldn’t exactly say I’m alone. Misty just joined me, I think she misses you too.”

You can hear Roger’s smile through the phone, and you grin softly yourself. Misty had been a rather unexpected addition to your household. One of Freddie’s cats had escaped his home one afternoon and had gone missing for an entire night. She returned the next day, and soon after, Freddie found himself a grandfather, and having to re-home five kittens. Never one to turn a stray away, you had leapt at the chance of adopting the kitten.

---

John Deacon forgets the bass line to Under Pressure, but who is the cause of his forgetfulness?  Pairing: John Deacon x Reader

Miami found himself with four identical faces of shock staring at him as he stood in the recording studio, none of the band members were blinking, he wasn’t even entirely sure they were breathing either to be honest.

“I’m sorry, you’re going to have to repeat that darling.” Freddie was the first to break the silence, lifting a quizzical eyebrow at the manager before him.

Miami shook his head, an exasperated huff escaping his lips. “I said, David Bowie wants to record with you lot, he’ll be dropping by the studio in a week with some suggestions of his own, and I think it would be a good idea if you lot try to come up with something too.” He was met with more staring, and frankly it was becoming rather off putting. “Would you rather I call him back and say you don’t want to record with him?”

“No!” The four men shouted at once, no longer the statues they had been before.

“What we mean is, we would hate for you to disturb Mr Bowie, and would love to record with him.” John pipes up, ever the diplomat.

Brian nods along in agreement, while Roger and Freddie quickly begin discussing what it would be like to meet David. “We’ll come up some lyrics and tunes to show him.” Brian offers, grinning at their manager. It does little to reassure Miami, though all he can do is hope they don’t show up empty handed when Bowie arrives.

“I could do a massive drum solo halfway through the song.” Roger declares, waving his arms around like a crazed man. It was obvious to John that Roger was unimpressed with the album they were currently recording, though he couldn’t help but think that one drum solo wasn’t quite enough to get him to stop bitching about the other songs. “Or a bongo solo! Everyone likes bongo’s, right?”

“Darling, I refuse to have bongos on this song.” Freddie interjects, and John can’t help but grin as Roger’s face falls, he looks like a sulking child, which is more or less what he currently is.

“How do you know Bowie doesn’t like bongos?”

“Roger, shut up about the bongos.” John groans, as he turns on his heel to collect his bass where he had left it near one of the amps. It was one thing to listen to Roger complain, it was another to listen to him complain while not doing anything productive. John’s fingers slide over the strings of his bass, plucking a few chords at random as he closes his eyes, trying to picture a rhythm of some sort. There had been a few chords playing around in his head lately, though he hadn’t gotten the chance to play them as of yet.

‘Dun dun dun dadada dun’ his bass echoes the notes, as he plays them on repeat, bobbing his head along to the jazzy beat. The tune seemed to bleed into his soul as he played, and he soon found himself lost in the music. It was a simple rhythm, only a few chords, but he felt it had potential.

“That’s really good Deaky.” Brian grins, coming over to stand beside him, watching John’s fingers play across the strings. Freddie joins soon after, holding one of Roger’s drumsticks in his left hand. A smile plays across his lips, hidden behind his bushy moustache.

“It certainly has potential.” He offers, as he snaps his fingers on the second and fourth beat. Brian does the same, and soon Roger is joining in on his kick drum. “Next step, come up with a lyric.”  Freddie chuckles, as John places his bass back down, a smug smile on his lips.

“Wait, you guys think this is actually decent?” He asks stunned, his eyebrows creasing together, waiting for someone to start laughing, and to state it was all just a joke.

“Really John, if we can get the lyrics down, then I want to show this to Bowie.” Freddie grins broadly, as he returns his stolen drumstick to its rightful owner.

“I’m with Fred, just imagine having David, and Freddie’s voices singing along with that bass line, it’ll be an instant hit!” Brian supplies with an equally large smile. John takes a moment to take in what his bandmates were telling him, they truly liked what he had come up with, even if it was rather simple.

“I have one condition.” He declares, folding his arms across his chest. “And it isn’t negotiable.” All eyes are on him again, awaiting his next words in anticipation. “There will be absolutely no bongos on this song!”

“Fuck you Deacon!” Roger cries in outrage, throwing his drumstick with acute precision towards John’s head. Luckily, John knew what to expect from Roger these days, and easily stepped out of his firing line.

“If we agree with John, do we run the risk of having the drums thrown at us?” Brian chuckles quietly to Freddie, who instantly looks fearfully towards the drum kit.

“How about we go get some lunch?” Freddie sings out, waltzing his way towards the doors to the studio. Roger mutters under his breath as he follows him out, John can’t quite hear what he’s saying, though he’s sure it’s about bongos. Brian leaves next, and John takes up the rear. Freddie leads the group for a few minutes, in search of somewhere for lunch, they pass by their go to pub, with Freddie insisting he knew of somewhere far better and that it was just around the corner.

                                                                  *********

Just around the corner turned out to mean a twenty-minute walk, which had Roger grumbling the entire way.

“Just turn back if you’re going to complain the whole time.” Brian groans, which only increases Roger’s complaining. It was starting to grate on John’s nerves, he often forgot just how petulant the man could be.

“I’m gonna head-“ He began, before being interrupted by Freddie’s loud declaration of them having arrived at their destination.

“Go on, get in you’ll love this place!” Freddie grins, as he ushers the three others inside. The entire front wall of the café is windows, allowing the midday sun to stream in, warming everyone up on the cold winter’s day. Wooden chairs, with patchwork cushions sit nestled among wooden tables, each with a different mosaic design on top. The floor is covered in mismatched rugs, some more faded than others, but overall giving the café a warm and inviting feel. A young woman, with flaming red ringlets smiles brightly at the group, picking up four leather bound menus.

“Good afternoon! Will you be dining with us today?” She asks sweetly, her eyes falling on Roger almost instantly. “Roger Taylor, I don’t know if I should let you in. Y/N wouldn’t want you here.”

Roger has the decency to blush at her words, ducking his head low, allowing his hair to flop over his forehead. “Is Y/N here today?”

The hostess frowns, placing a hand on her hip. “Of course she’s here! She owns the bloody place!”

Roger gulps, shuffling his feet on the floor awkwardly. “We can go somewhere else, it’s not a problem.” John suggests, shrugging his shoulders slightly. They were all hungry, but there were other places to eat. Plus, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know what Roger had done to the owner, knowing him, probably a one-night stand or something of the likes.

The hostess frowns once more, before sighing. “Follow me, I’ll tell Y/N that you’re here Roger.” She instructs as she leads them all to a four-seater table, placing the menus down in the centre before walking to the bar. Roger buries his head in one of the menus, ignoring the outside world as best he can. The few patrons of the café stare and whisper, pointing to the band. Nothing they weren’t used to at this stage of fame, though they could go without it some days, especially when trying to get a bite to eat.

John, Brian and Freddie each take a quick glance at their menus, before looking between one another, all of them with the same question running through their minds. “Roger Darling, what did you do to the owner of this fine establishment?” Freddie finally asks.

He looks up from his menu, biting his lower lip nervously, if it weren’t for the fact there was a strict no smoking sign on the entrance, John was sure Roger would be rolling a cigarette instead. “Oh, you know. She’s just another one of my college conquests is all.”

“Conquest my ass! You can shove that excuse up your ass Taylor.” You grumble, as you stand beside the table, glaring solely at the blonde man before you. You turn your attention to the other men at the table, you weren’t ignorant, you knew who they were, you had kept track of what Roger was up to over the years, it was hard not to, given how much publicity Queen got. “I knew this idiot in college, while he was studying to be a dentist still. I complained to him I had a toothache once, so he decided to punch me square in the jaw, in an effort to remove the painful tooth. He took out one of my bloody molars, which was great expect for the fact that it was a canine that hurt!” You grumble, taking out a notepad and pen to take their orders. “Then, he runs off with you lot, and never returns, leaving me with the dental bill!”

Roger has his head resting against the table now, Freddie and Brain are laughing, and John isn’t sure whether to kick Roger for his idiocy or to comfort the woman. He had spent the time she was telling her tale, to study her. She was beautiful, a quiet subdued sort of beauty, that really shone through when she was passionate about something, just as she was now. “I told you I was drunk at the time, you said it was fine for me to take a look at your mouth!” Roger protested loudly.

“There is a difference between taking a look at my mouth, and punching me!” You cry out, before lowering your voice, not wanting to cause a scene in front of your patrons. You take a deep breath in, before plastering a smile on your lips, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Welcome to The Hideout, what can I get you today?”

John grinned up at you, finding your ability to jump between casual and professional rather impressive. You caught his eye and winked, as you tapped your pen against your notepad, awaiting the band’s orders.

Freddie is the first to speak, smiling up at you. “Could we get a large margarita pizza to share please darling? And, four pints of whatever you have on tap please?”

You raise an eyebrow at Roger, who was attempting to make a fort out of the menus on the table. “I’ll get you three beers. I don’t trust blondie over here to drink.” You smirk, before it turns into a smile directed at John.

“Hey! Why don’t I get to drink!”

Brian chuckles quietly, before gesturing to the menu fort. “It may have something to do with your inability to behave like an adult.” He shrugs, curly hair bouncing over his shoulders as he does so.

---

For everything else that I’ve written, feel fee to check out my MASTERLIST  You’ll find a heap of Queen, BohRhap, 6 Underground, Labyrinth and Night at the museum! 

#roger taylor fanfic #joe mazzello fanfic #john deacon fanfic #roger taylor #joe mazzello #John Deacon #ben hardy #Brian May #freddie mercury #fanfiction #queen band fanfiction #soulmate fanfic #fanfic ideas #fan fiction suggestions

[coloredinsanity]

Raquelle

"Will you marry me?"

Raquelle dropped her wine glass as the words left his lips and her hand covering her mouth as she trembled... The whole room's eyes were on her - she was the one who was meant to be asked that question this evening.

Her amber eyes locked on Victor as he held the ring box out to another woman named Annalisse.  She swallowed back her tears as she knew he wanted her to make a scene. The silence finally cutting as Annalisse spoke, a coy little 'yes' leaving her lips as the room applauded. His arms around her as she watched them kiss she felt like her heart had stopped.

The voices resumed as the music faded back in; gossip filling the air as the crowd discussed the situation...Everyone knew, He was her's and she was his. He'd been courting her for a year.  She couldn't even comprehend what was happening despite trying her hardest.

"How did I miss this..." She asked under her breath as she racked her brain; tensing as Victor walked towards her suddenly as she instinctively stepped back but realizing that running was just as bad as screaming...She wanted to leave.

"Raquelle..." Victor's voice sounded so sweet despite the cold look that now rested in his eyes. Her own were unable to look at him for more than a moment as she lowered her head, muttering. "Congratulations, Lord Victor..."  She saw his lips twitch into a slight smirk as his finger rested under her chin; making her look up at him. "You're nothing but a whore who managed to get adopted into a good family."

It was the final cut as he announced her biggest secret to the room of nobles and upperclassmen.   A secret that made her completely undesirable as she stepped back slowly; pushing his hand away gently and carefully as she kept walking back; stumbling a little on her dress and heels before lifting it and quickly walking to the exit as tears began to finally fall; her breathing erratic as she crumpled to the ground, covering her face.  

"...Miss, You need to leave the premises." The guard was soft; his eyes gentle despite his stern stance.  She didn't remember how long she'd been there; her gloved hands wiping her tears and makeup; destroying them both as she weakly lifted herself upright; her dress soaked with mud from where she fell... Her heart aching as she dully looked up; her carriage had arrived... ---

"You have to leave..." Her adoptive mother stood in the doorway; a saddened look in her face as she folded her arms.  She'd explained what had happened to her the night before - she'd arrived home so late that they were concerned; they'd find out soon as gossip would spread like wildfire.

"What..?" She looked from the window in confusion. "I'm sorry, Raquelle... We'll give you money. I have a distant cousin who said he'll take you in..." She walked closer; reaching out and taking her hands. "This rumor is already ruining our reputation; our business... Darling, I'm sorry. I can't allow this to destroy us..." She seemed genuinely remorseful but it didn't matter right now...

"Y-you can't do this to me..Please, Mother..." She felt her voice crack as her chest tightened; was her heart even still there? She couldn't feel it...

---

The moonlight darted across her skin as she sat by her window; staring at the town below... She felt so empty; she reached up as she gently touched her cheeks as she realized she'd stopped crying and she felt like she couldn't anymore...  It'd be two more weeks before she'd be 'shipped' off to her uncle's estate.  She'd gone out briefly to buy a few books but the ridicule was cruel as everyone had found the dirt from her past... A silly little teenage girl on the streets; She'd done what she had to... It was pure chance during a cold night in the rain that a nobleman found her on his steps as she'd wandered in nothing but a nightdress.  Her parents were kind; too kind. She was hurt they were sending her off but she knew they'd sacrificed enough for her as they'd lied through there teeth to convince society she was a blood relative to assure her a better life but now that was gone... They were humiliated, Guilt resting in her stomach... She trusted Victor more than anyone in the world but he'd always been lying to her and now it seemed so clear...

The woman he'd proposed to was far more important with ties to royalty and religious figures in the new kingdom...He'd started courting her the moment they'd cross paths but just in case she was taken he kept Raquelle as a backup plan; nothing more.  He didn't care for her as much as he didn't care for Annalisse. He cared for status and money...

The knock at her door jumped her ever so slightly, it was light and gentle. She was surprised... it was late. She struggled to find a voice with her dry throat. "come in.." She croaked as the servant stuck her head in. "I'm sorry to bother you, miss... I saw your room was still lit so I thought you may be awake." She stepped closer; holding out a sealed envelope. She knew the symbol was Victor's on the seal as she nodded. "Thank you, It's not a problem... In fact - if it's not a bother would you kindly get me some tea?" She asked softly and the maid nodded. "Of course, Miss."

Raquelle held her breath before undoing the wax seal gently and unfolding the letter before beginning to read it... Her fingers ripping it in half before standing up and walking to the fireplace; burning it.

"I refuse... Victor." She bitterly growled as she watched the flames swirl and something in her broke as her eyes rested on the antique mask on her fireplace.

---

The screams didn't phase her as she swung the garden scythe; slashing the man's head clean from his body and watching it tumble to the floor before marching through the hallways toward the next one, twisting it and stabbing it into the chest of a guard running up behind her.  She wore all black; the skeletal mask and the scythe; she was dead and had her target... She couldn't get into the mansion to kill Victor but she could destroy him - by attacking the only thing he cared for. His money... She wouldn't kill the innocence unless they got in her way - but the corrupted upper class who were all within this tangled web were her targets...  

She'd lost track in her haze until the guardsmen finally caught her; dragging her off. "45 men and 2 women... " She remembered them saying it in disbelief - The blur of everything barely phased her. She heard the shouting and the panic and was dragged by the guards but it all seemed; detached. It was the saddened eyes of her father that snapped her back to earth if only for a moment - She was about to be hanged.  "May I have a last word?" She asked calmly; glancing down briefly and noting the blood on her dress and hands before looking back at the man who was to hang her who looked terrified. "Monster..." He spat before nodding.

Raquelle paused for a moment as she turned back and the guards calmed the crowd somewhat.  "I would just like you all to know that the Rosen's didn't know about any of this... They didn't know I was a prostitute or a thief... I lied to them. I convinced them I was a blood relative; they adopted me. Please; Do not hold this against them. Their kindness was misguided." It was a lie; She saw the faint saddened smile on her father's lips briefly before she was dragged back and the noose fell around her neck and tightened a little.

She closed her eyes - awaiting death. It never came... She felt the boards fall from under her and the noose tighten entirely. Her neck should've broken but it didn't and although she couldn't breathe and felt the distress her body didn't cease even as more time passed; it became almost 15 minutes and nothing changed. The crowd screaming in confusion and fear.  They didn't know what to do...

"Is she a demon!?" "She must be a witch!" "Orange eyes! Orange eyes!"    

The sound of a blade pulled her attention; it sliced through the rope and as she hit the rocky ground she felt it suddenly stab her - she'd never really been injured before - the blade cracking as it hit her skin; shattering the tip. Her skin barely marked...

Her eyes glazed over as the crowd began to try to kill her; rocks smashed against her; boots stomped her and at one point someone dragged her to water; pushing her head over... She learned she really didn't have to breathe. She felt pain but it didn't leave wounds.

The fear fueled the fire to be built; She was tied to the post but she hadn't fought or moved... The flames alighting and her skin hurt; she burned. But it didn't show. She felt the pain but that was it.  Nothing worked - Nothing at all...

---

The church bells awoke her - she didn't recall passing out... The chains were heavy on her tired arms and legs as she looked at the woman standing beside her; Her eyes widening a little as she recognized the woman vaguely. "A-aren't you the saint?" The woman hardly was ever seen but when she would walk through the kingdom she was praised. A woman that was claimed to be sent from the heavens... She was beautiful.  Her silver eyes resting on her for a moment. "I'm sorry..." She stated softly before she began to leave.

She didn't understand... At least not until the pain of the ritual took hold of her; the scythe she'd killed with fusing into her, the dark magic energy causing the church to warp and the windows to shatter.

The darkness consuming her; A beautiful large silver scythe left in her place.

#Raquelle Rosen #Port Lyndon? #Idk where it takes place #Woo

[silyabeeodess]

FusionFall Writing Prompts: Oct. 2019, Prompt #2: Part 2

Part 1: https://silyabeeodess.tumblr.com/post/188155692184/fusionfall-writing-prompts-oct-2019-prompt-2

She dreamed she was running through Nowhere’s vast Catacombs.

Silya had only explored them for a handful of jobs, but she hated them.  Although it was littered with ancient structures that were the envy of any adventurer, it was easy to get lost in its series of winding tunnels. Even the nanocom’s maps didn’t always function properly in their depths.  

One really had to navigate them by memory, but, right then, she just couldn’t.  It would be hard enough in real life, but in the dream each direction she turned to seemed distorted and warped.  Any path she followed would shift before her eyes and she’d be forced to loop back to where she began.  Eyes stared at her from the crevices of the rocks, following her every move.    

Worse still, the whole of the Catacombs was incredibly unstable, almost like an earthquake was splitting them apart.  Debris rained down from above, threatening to bury her alive!  Before it could though, a rift began to tear through the tunnels with a single eye charging down it as though it were following a track straight for her. Her legs felt like lead.  She couldn’t move!

The ground beneath her fell away and she looked up just in time to see the rock—carved apart like a beast’s mangled fangs—close above to swallow her in darkness.

…………………………………………...

The young woman was jarred awake by the blaring alarm from the barrack’s loudspeakers.  After the initial shock had passed, she inwardly winced as she rose from under the thin sheets of her bed.  Her bunkmate was missing—she had probably already headed out for the day—but the other girl they were rooming with dragged herself out from beneath her own covers and shuffled off to the communal washrooms with a quiet ‘good morning’ mumbled under her breath.  Silya remained seated, rubbing her face as she tried to ward off a dull headache.

She didn’t usually get nightmares—not in the same respect that others saw them anyway—but they weren’t uncommon among Fusion Fighters.  It came with the job.  Between fighting monsters, surviving fusion matter exposure, travelling into all sorts of dangerous terrain, and facing death on a regular basis, a few bad dreams were inevitable.  

After filing her first report the night before, she hadn’t gotten much sleep either.  She needed something to help wake her up, I know I’ve got one of Grim’s sugar scrubs…  The reaper’s spa business had flourished in recent years.  Its products worked their way down to the soul, easily renewing the people who used them.  There was probably some kind of underworld magic involved, but they were so effective that most didn’t even question it.

Silya always had at least one carry-on tube on her for emergencies like this.  She dug it out of her pack and walked over to the small half-bath set in the corner of the room right of the exit.  The steady, cool water pouring from the sink felt good to her tired eyes.

She heard a faint click behind her not long after the alarm went off and saw a blue glow followed by an onyx blur spiral away from her bunk in the reflection of the mirror: Aoi, her Demongo nano, had zipped out of his nanochip and floated behind her.  His shrill voice dripped with amusement, “You look bad!”

Silya pursed her lips, still scrubbing her face, “Thanks a lot…”

“You turned a lot,” he continued, “in your sleep.  Did someone have a bad dream?”

“I’m doing just fine,” she raised her voice pointedly.  Undoubtedly, if her other nanos were awake, then they were listening too.  It was pretty much impossible to keep anything a secret between her team.  Silya glanced over her shoulder to return Aoi’s smug expression with an incredulous look, “What were you doing up that late anyway?  I’m pretty sure I had all of you turn in early.”

The previous day had been a long one for all of them.  While she and the other research participants were experimenting with their Spinal-ARCHs, all of their nanos were called in for a check-up.  They were fairly routine and nanos could be called in for them easily with the use of a Nano Station, but if their IE Donors spent any great length of time on the warfront it was also easy for some to fall overdue.  With so many of them at Tech Square all at once, the check-ups were even running over into that day’s schedule.

She wasn’t about to let certain, little demons miss theirs, even if she was starting to regret bringing them all at once.

“We did!” protested a fluctuating, courser—if somewhat feminine—voice as a flash of red appeared next. It was her Him nano, Risk.  He peered over her bunk with a lax disposition. “It doesn’t sound like all of us got our beauty sleep though—and don’t look at me!” he waved a clawed hand, “I can’t create nightmares!”

Turning off the faucet, Silya began to hunt for her sweat suit.  For all she knew, the experiments would be more of the same for that day; however, before they began, she didn’t plan on walking around the barracks in nothing but a spaghetti-strap tank and athletic shorts. “I’m fine,” she repeated, “You three just keep yourselves in check.  If you give anyone any trouble, you’re dragging yourselves out of that mess!”

“Perish the thought!”

She fought back a smile. Not all of her nanos were completely trustworthy—much like their original counterparts—but she had to give them some credit.  As much grief as they could give her, they actually were pretty good overall. They’d give her sass, but they’d also follow orders well enough and left most other people in peace.  So long as they weren’t ‘provoked’ anyway…  

Out of habit, Silya looked at the remaining sealed nanochip, but then remembered that their third demonic tag-along—Kuro—was probably in the middle of his check-up right then.  Being born from a shred of pure darkness, the nano scientists were taking particular care with him.  The last thing the Fusion Fighters needed was a bunch of tiny Aku clones running around, so they were always examined with the most caution.    

Aoi followed her as she continued getting ready for the day, “You’re going to be gone all day again?”

“Maybe,” she shrugged, reaching over to ruffle the blue flames of his head.  He’d been on her team for a while, but it still surprised her that they had such a gentle warmth.  As much as he would protest, he just wasn’t like the original Demongo. “I’ll leave your nanochips in the room, but you know the rules: Don’t leave the property, don’t bother the scientists or the robots, and—if you need me—always check with the people at Dexlabs first.”  Surely, they’d obey that much, if only to follow the two companies’ strict schedules: Almost everything in Tech Square worked on a clock, so falling out of it tended to mean falling behind, be it with meetings or meals.  

A note she was reminded of when the barracks’ alarm went off a second time.  This early, there were three: One to wake up everyone, one to hurry them on, and one to get them out of the door.  If they didn’t move, they’d spend the morning with empty stomachs.    

“Maybe you should pass on the morning routine,” Risk hovered over to her next, “Sleep in for a while.  If you’re not up for the tests, I doubt either of the four-eyed wonder-boys could blame you.”  

Despite his curt words, the hint of actual concern laced in them gave her a moment’s pause. Insults and banter, she was used to, but it made it more worrisome whenever they were serious.  Still, Silya reassured them as she stepped outside of the room with a confident grin, “If a bad night’s sleep were enough to bring me down, I think we’d all have something to worry about.  Let’s just get going.”

She would endure nightmares every night before she dropped out of the experiment.  Although she ran out of time before she could use the Ampfibian form for long, testing each of the others had been like something from a dream.  The Big Chill form’s wings were stronger and more capable of holding out to actually use for flight.  The Way Bad form was incredibly durable, as tough as any armor.  The Ghostfreak form’s tentacles were far easier to control than its predecessors’, deft and nimble as any other part of the body.   Silya would stay for as long as Dexter needed her if it meant she could keep playing around with the Spinal-ARCH’s update.  

That day’s schedule was risky as ever, but was also actually pretty boring.  Both Dexlab’s and Mandark Industries’ scientists needed to review all of the research participants initial reports before pushing certain tests further, so they’d just be testing how well the imaginary energy each form was crafted from handled against fusion matter exposure.  She’d practically just be sitting around for most of the day, so she could nod off in-between sessions.  

The hall outside was bustling with research participants hurrying around.  Even for the middle of the morning, there was more traffic than usual.  Everyone seemed on-edge with excitement to continue the experiments from where they left off.  Silya marched after them, not about to be left behind.

END OF PART TWO

Continue: https://silyabeeodess.tumblr.com/post/188285373604/fusionfall-writing-prompts-oct-2019-prompt-2

#nano demongo #nano him #aoi #Yes I give all my nanos nicknames #fanfic #fanfiction #fusionfall #fusionfall retro #oct 2019 prompt part 2 #video games #risk #kuro

[livvywrites]

tmq excerpt

a kind of long one, to make up for the fact i haven’t been posting much lately ;) 

###

###

Aishlynn and Alinora weren’t close. Neither of them had made much of an effort to remedy that, on this journey of theirs. Aishlynn wasn’t sure that either of them ever would. Over 20 years of separation was a long time. They were virtually strangers, despite their shared blood.

But Alinora was still her sister. And like Aishlynn, like everyone sitting at this table, she had been through something horrible. Had lost people close to her—Aishlynn couldn’t really fathom how many. But she was still here, still fighting, still standing up for what was right.

She didn’t deserve Ethari’s pity. She deserved his admiration. His gratitude. His shared pain. His sympathy.

But not his pity.

Aishlynn wanted to distract him from it. So she asked the obvious question—the one she was sure they all wanted to know. “Who was Liera?”

She kept her voice low. She doubted it was enough to ensure they couldn’t hear her, but perhaps it was enough that they could tune it out.

Ethari looked back at her. “I suppose you wouldn’t remember,” he said idly, in just the right tone to make Aishlynn’s hackles rise. She grit her teeth against it. “Liera Ilwyn was the daughter of Lady Verana and Lady Caramyn. She was also chosen to be Alinora’s fiancee, out of a list of candidates provided to your mother. The girls didn’t know that growing up, however.

“Rivana, Liera, and Alinora were inseparable. By the time they were in their mid-teens, Alinora and Liera had fallen in love. Their engagement was announced on Alinora’s sixteenth birthday, and the two couldn’t have been happier.”

Aishlynn found herself glancing at the others again, to see if her horror was echoed in them.

She found Talitha’s head bowed, her eyes closed. Ava’s eyes were closed as well, her head tilted back, hand over her heart. Lyr looked angry, his eyes glittering, his jaw clenched.

All of them had filled in the blanks—though Lyr and Ava didn’t know the specifics of the attack.

Aishlynn did, though. And so did Talitha.

“What happened?” Ava asked.

Aishlynn decided to answer. “A month before my sister’s eighteenth birthday, towards the end of the harvest season, Kai’os attacked,” she said quietly. “But instead of sending an army, he sent shapeshifters. Beings called the Sha’roth. They can assume any form they wish, on sight. But if they devour the creature they wish to emulate, they can absorb all of it’s memories.

“The Sha’roth targeted various people in high up positions. Our mother was among the first to fall, insofar as we can tell. Once they had replaced enough people, they were able to close in on the attack. Some people figured out what was going on before—the Sage was one, and he alerted key others, including Lady Rivana and Lord Oreyn. Unfortunately, for many it was too late.

“Some few hundred survived the attack, most of them not even to their first century yet. No trace of my sister nor, apparently, her lover was ever found. Some believed them dead, devoured along with so many others. A few believed they had survived and fled.

“Apparently, both parties were half right.”

Talitha elbowed her sharply. “Inappropriate,” she hissed beneath her breath.

Aishlynn frowned.

“Alinora mentioned a trip,” Ava said, looking at the Sage. “What… did she mean?” Aishlynn could see her gripping her brother’s hand tightly.

“Liera and Alinora had arranged, some months back, to go on a trip as the harvest season was winding to a close. At eighteen, they were both nearing very close to twenty one, the age when many young Elenai embark on a pilgrimage to the southeast. As such, it was important to ensure that they were prepared for it. So as winter set in for the rest of the world, and the rains began here, they would be taught important things for their survival.

“Knowing that they would be cooped up in the castle, with nary a private moment between them, they decided to take a trip together. It would last for two weeks, and then they would return. They left as planned.”

Alinora’s voice cut into the Sage’s. “Our trip lasted the amount of time it was supposed to.” She sounded tired. “We did come back, that fourteenth day. Two weeks before my birthday. We had gone up into the mountains. Raced down to the cliffside. And that was when we—when I—saw that in my absence, the kingdom had been conquered.

“Campfires dotted the countryside. I could see soldiers marching through, strange banners flying where ours once did. And then I found out Liera had been… replaced.” Her mouth tightened. Oreyn’s hand was still on her shoulder. Aishlynn half-expected her to shrug him off. “I fled.”

“How did you escape the Sha’roth, though?” It was Rivana who asked, her voice soft. Careful.

Alinora shrugged. “I tricked it.”

Ethari leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

Alinora looked at him. “When I stayed at your hut, one evening… I did some exploring. You were reading the threads, or whatever it is that you do behind the house. I took one of the paths. Found a cave. Met a… friend of yours. Came running back. Never went there again. Until I had a Sha’roth on my tail. I tricked it into entering the cave, into jumping into the pool there. And then I ran. Went back to where the da’lia were tethered, packed my stuff up, and made my way south.”

“South to where?” Oreyn.

Alinora looked at him. “You know where,” she said softly. “Tierani. I prowled around Verdani for a bit. Met an old friend of yours. Ellis. He took me in. And then one night, I was visited by Elaena. I met up with Lyr and Ava, who accompanied me to Talitha and Aishlynn. We sought the sword. And then we returned here.”

Aishlynn only had one more question.

“You called yourself Death’s Champion, a minute ago,” she said. “What… What does that mean? Why that name?”

It wasn’t Alinora who answered her. “Because I gave it to her,” Elaena said. She had left Talitha’s shoulder. She was sitting in one of the empty chairs now, reclined back like she had all the time in the world. “When we first met, I told her that Death was looking for a mortal champion. Because of what she can do, the circumstances of her birth, the threads that are tied to her… she was the perfect candidate.” Elaena shrugged, as if this information wasn’t completely earth-shattering. “The mantle is hers if she chooses to accept it.” Elaena looked at Alinora. “It would seem she has.”

Alinora held her gaze. She drew up her chin. Stepped away from Rivana, from Oreyn. She looked away from Elaena, and addressed the room at large. Despite her red-rimmed eyes, her tone was low and strong. “I will take Weaver’s Bane. I will engage Kai’os directly. I will be the one to kill him. I owe him that.”

No one, not even Aishlynn, argued with her.

###

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[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

Barcelona is for Lovers - Chapter 2

Chapter 2!  Many thanks to @stupidsatsuma.  @doctorroseprompts

Chapter 3 will be available on March 10th; chapters are posted every other Sunday

General warnings for: hanky panky.  Take the ‘lovers’ part of the title seriously.

Masterlist

AO3

Summary

Three months after Rose and the Doctor are reunited and promptly ditched on a beach in Norway, they are still trying to find their feet.  Rose plans a trip to Barcelona for them to relax, reconnect, and hopefully consummate their relationship.

They were up early the next morning, on the road not long after the sun appeared.  Rose’s plan was to be at the house and have the shopping done by noon, so as to have the afternoon free for sunbathing.  The property came with a pool and private beach access, and she wanted to make good use of both.

Dressed in tiny shorts and a tank top, she revelled in the warm Spanish sun.  Driving along the coast with the wind in her hair, the Doctor next to her, she rather thought this was as close to heaven as one could get without the TARDIS.

Of course, he was the largest part of that sense of peace, and half the reason she was dressed so skimpily.  For someone who spent so much time bragging about his ‘superior biology’, she had quickly twigged to his ability to talk being directly inverse to how much skin she was showing.  Now that he was biologically human, or near enough, the barest hint of her cleavage would sent him into a total shutdown.

For totally unrelated reasons, she suddenly found her taste in shirts and blouses ran towards the low-cut end of the spectrum.

When she’d walked out of the loo that morning, he’d stopped speaking mid-sentence as he stared at her, mouth gaping like a fish.  He’d been unusually reticent since, though his warm palm had barely left her upper thigh the entire drive.

“So tell me about this house.”  He had to shout to be heard, but his grin said he didn’t mind.

“Erm, three bedrooms, an exotic tropical garden end quote, barbeque… supposed to be fabulous view, good for stargazing, just generally being outside.  Pool.  Uh, beach is… about 500 meters away or so.  The pictures looked gorgeous, at least.  Ocean view from the master bedroom.”

“Sounds brilliant.”

“Good.”  She relaxed, savoring the spectacular vistas as they wound their way along the coastal highway.  It was a perfect day, no stress, no worries, and the man she loved by her side.  She had plenty of contingency plans in case he got overwhelmingly bored, and hoped that at least by midweek they’d be too busy exploring each other for his attention to wander.

A girl could dream.

They arrived late midmorning, parking next to the house before easily locating the lockbox with the house keys.  It wasn’t terribly impressive from the outside, a little white, gated house, but Rose gasped once they made their way inside.  “Look at this!”

The living room was a cheerful yellow color, marble floors and light wood furniture.  The wood-burning fireplace was the focal point, and she stopped to admire it for only a moment before moving on.  The dining room and kitchen weren’t particularly special, merely functional, but Rose didn’t plan to spend a lot of time in either room.  One of the greatest perks of being an heiress, she’d quickly discovered, was not having to feel guilty spending money on takeaway and restaurants, especially if she tipped well.

“Rose, come look at this,” the Doctor called, and she followed his voice until she found him in the middle of a bedroom, already settling the bags at the foot of the bed.  Based on the pictures the rental agency had supplied, it was the master.

“Ooh, nice,” she approved, taking in the king-sized bed.  Outside the windows sparkled the Mediterranean, and the sight of an unfamiliar place still made her shiver with delight.

He coughed deliberately, and she turned to face him – and gasped.

“Oh my God.”  Pushing past him she stepped into the master bathroom.  “This is amazing.”  It was all marble, big and airy, with his-and-her sinks, a shower stall – and a jacuzzi.  It looked snug for two people, but she suspected they’d be able to fit.

When there’s a will…

“Right, shall we go explore outside?” the Doctor asked, offering her his hand.

“Let’s.”  Lacing their fingers together, she let him drag her through the house onto the patio behind it.  The house sat on the top of a hill, with what looked like two separate outdoor spaces.  One was centered around the pool, with sofas and lounge chairs for sunbathing.  The pool was clean, a decent size, and she was ridiculously tempted to jump right in, clothes and all.

On the other side of the house, connected to the pool by a small brick walkway, was another seating area, this time overlooking the water sparkling below with another couch and more lounge chairs.  Just down the side of the house from that was a large outdoor table, perfect for a group.

Rose went up to the edge of the patio, staring out at the water.  It was all so incredible, more beautiful than the pictures, and felt as new and exciting as any alien world.

“This was a perfect place to come,” the Doctor murmured, stepping up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Yeah?”  She snuggled back into him, resting her head on his chest.  His fingertips found their way beneath the hem of her tank, lightly brushing against skin and making her shiver.

“Yeah.”  He kissed her temple, and they simply swayed there in the warm sun, watching the waves crashing down below.  “We should check out the beach later.”

“Mhmm.  And go to the shops.”  Rose didn’t move though; she never wanted to leave his arms.

“Want to walk down to the beach now?” the Doctor suggested, as they put the last of the groceries away.  They’d gone into one of the local villages, having an early lunch before picking up some staples and breakfast supplies.

“Sure.  I’m going to put my suit on, though, and we should take some of the beach stuff, stay awhile.”

He nodded.  “I’ll go rummage around outside, find the towels, that sort of thing.”  They headed back towards the bedroom hand in hand.

“No suit?”  Stopping in the doorway, Rose pouted up at him.  She leaned back against the doorjamb, and had to fight a smile when he pressed her up against it, raining tiny kisses over her face.

“No, temptress.  Not today.”

“Okay.”  Rose resolved to pack it anyway, just in case he changed his mind – if for no other reason than he’d bake in the sun otherwise.  “Now, go. No peeking!” she teased, swatting him away.

He went reluctantly, holding onto her fingers until the last possible second.  “Meet me outside when you’re ready.”

Rose waited until he’d vanished from sight to shut the door, diving for her bag.  She’d purchased and packed the teeniest, tiniest bikinis she could find, and now had to decide – quickly – which she wanted him to see first.  After a moment’s debate she settled on the one that was TARDIS blue, before pulling her tank and shorts on over it.  Shoving a pair of his swim trunks (and where he’d found a pair with pinstripes she’d never know) into a shoulder bag with suntan lotion and various other odds and ends, it wasn’t long before she met him outside.

“Rose!”  He kissed her firmly, as though she’d been away ten years not ten minutes.

“Ready to go?”  She kissed him back just as gladly, the taste of him still a novelty after only three months.  A stop in the kitchen had turned up some snacks and water bottles, and she slathered on another coating of sunscreen – though she fully intended to have him do her back.

“Yep.”  He patted his own shoulder bag gleefully, a wiggle of his eyebrows making her wonder what all was in there – he still maintained the ability to make things bigger on the inside, though he refused to explain how.

“Allons-y!” Rose cried, grabbing his hand and darting down the tiled path.  He laughed, letting her tug him along, and hearing him behind her, his palm snug against hers on a bright, beautiful day, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so happy.

The path abruptly spilled out onto a white sand beach.  With no one else in sight they had the place to themselves, and Rose wasted no time in dumping the bag and kicking off her shoes to run towards the water.

“What’re you doing?” the Doctor called after her, still laughing, but she didn’t hesitate to wade into the water knee deep.

“Testing the water!”

“And?”

“It’s beautiful!”  She turned her back on the water to look at him, grinning to see he’d left his bag next to hers and was at the edge of the water.

“Let’s get set up first, yeah?” he encouraged, and it was only his smiling face that tempted her out of the ocean.  She padded up the sand to their things, where he stood digging in his bag.  “There’s a blanket somewhere.”  He reached in up to his shoulder for a moment.  “Aha!”  Brandishing the bright fabric like a trophy, he passed her one end and they spread it out.  Their shoes and bags went in each corner to secure it, and Rose stepped back to survey it carefully.  It was large enough for them to share comfortably, with plenty of extra space.

“Perfect,” she declared after a moment.  “Can you put some lotion on my back, then we can get in the water?”

The Doctor was closer to her bag, and quickly located the bottle.  “Sure – come’ere.”

With an innocent smile, she whipped the tank off and turned her back to him.  “Thanks, love.”

He spluttered, making a few odd, wheezing noises.  “Uh huh!”  She merely swept up her hair out of the way and waited patiently.

The lotion was cold, but his warm hands smoothing it into her skin was what made her shiver.  “Mmhmm.”  It was a massage and application in one, nimble fingers relieving what little stress remained.  He worked on her back far longer than necessary, to the point where she was almost asleep or ready to jump him when he cleared his throat.

“Done.”  His voice had gone deep, and he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her back against him.  Her breath hitched when she realized he was aroused, and more importantly, was letting her know. It wasn’t all that long ago he’d have done his damnedest to hide it from her.

“You should join me in the water,” she rasped, rocking her hips slightly back against him.

“I didn’t bring my suit.”  His hands slipped slower, bracketing her hips and securing her tightly against him.  If he’d thought that would stop her wriggling, he was sorely mistaken.

“I did – though, you could always go starkers.”

He nuzzled his face into her neck, pressing kisses along her skin.  “I think I’ll stay here for a bit – you go.”

“Sure?”

“Mhmm.”

His grip loosened, and she reluctantly stepped away, turning to face him.  “Okay.  But will you consider changing and joining me?  And don’t you dare eat all the snacks I brought!”

“I won’t,” he promised, before frowning.  “Er, I will to the first, won’t to the second.”

“All right.”  Taking another step back, she turned to face the water again as she undid the clasp of her shorts, keeping her legs straight and bending at the waist as she slowly lowered them as provocatively as possible.  He groaned, a wonderful, erotic moan, and she tossed her shorts in the vague direction of their stuff, running towards the water before she shoved him to the sand and rode him in broad daylight on a private-but-not-exclusive-to-them beach.

Trying to shake her desperate arousal she dove headfirst into the waves, submerging herself in the water.  The temperature was ideal, the water calm, and as she broke the surface she had the absurd feeling of living in a Disney movie it was so perfect.

She didn’t know how long she swam for, alternating between jumping with the waves and floating on her back, enjoying the peace.  She hadn’t felt so free since arriving in this universe, and she was under no illusions that that was because of anything but the man waiting for her on the beach.  Suddenly missing him despite being so close, she made her way back to shore. By the time she reached dry sand he was there, waiting for her.

“How is it?”

“Fantastic.”  They shared a grin at her use of his old catchphrase.  “I think you’d love it – will you please come in?”

“Already changed,” he admitted, and she realized he had; afraid of getting distracted by thoughts of his shorts, and what lay under them, she hadn’t looked.  “Didn’t want to interrupt, though.”

“Well, come on, then,” she ordered, pulling him back towards their stuff.  “Ditch the shirt and sunglasses, let’s go play.”

The Doctor grumbled but did as bid, before snatching her up and throwing her over his shoulder, so her head hung near his bum as she shrieked.

“Doctor!  What’re you doing?”

He waited until he was waist deep in the water, setting her down and holding her close before admitting, “Being on a beach and not touching you… was not pleasant.”

Her faux anger melted away, and she nestled into his arms.  “I know the feeling.”  His single heart beat beneath her ear, soothing the still-jagged edges of her soul.  “I love you,” she murmured, just because she could.

“I love you too,” he whispered back.  And then he swept her legs out from under her, dunking her in the ocean.

When she surfaced he was laughing, and she narrowed her eyes.  “This means war,” she warned, but he just gave her a cocky smile.

“Bring it.”

She lunged at him, knocking him off his feet.  As soon as he was under she scrambled away, trying to gain some distance.  He resurfaced closer to her than expected, and her eyes widened as she tried to back away.  He was faster, dunking her again, though she managed to pull him under with her.  They struggled for long minutes, a dunking and splashing war for the ages.

She eventually grew tired and more interested in other things, so the next time he dunked her, she ‘accidentally’ lost her bikini top, tucking it into the back of her bottoms before popping up.

He lunged for her again and froze, eyes going wide before he spun around.

“Something wrong?”

“You- you- ah- your top…” he fumbled, ears turning red.

“Hmm?”  She glanced down and gasped, as if unaware that she was now topless.  “Oops!”  His back was still firmly to her, and she rolled her eyes.  “You can turn around.”

He did before squeaking and continuing, making a seamless 360* turn.  “It’s still missing.”

“I know.”  She made her way out of the water, surreptitiously sticking the tiny scrap of fabric in her bag before stretching out on her back on the blanket.

The Doctor quickly joined her, keeping his eyes averted, and she wrinkled her nose.

“Doctor?”  Rose waited until she had his attention.  “It’s okay – you can look.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he said awkwardly, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck.

“Do I look uncomfortable?  Babe, trust me, I’ll tell you if anything’s too much.”  She folded one arm behind her head, the other patting the empty space next to her.  “Come on.”

He reluctantly lay next to her on his front, arms folded below him to prop him up.  His gaze mostly stayed on her face, though it would occasionally dart down to her breasts.

Rose brought her other arm up behind her head, watching his face.  “Doctor?”

“Yes?”  His eyes snapped up, and he looked so guilty she sighed, reaching one hand out to caress his cheek and jaw.

“It’s okay,” she repeated gently.  “You can look, if you want.”  He glanced down before meeting her eye again.

“Sure?”

She smiled.  “Thank you for checking, but yes.  I’ve got my tank top – I could cover up if I wanted to.”

His eyebrows lifted in surprise then consideration, weighing the truth of her words.

“You can even,” she dogged on, hoping she wasn’t about to give him a heart attack, “touch.  If you want.”

A look of shock and awe crossed his face, and he rolled onto his side, propping himself up with one hand and leaving the other free, letting it rest on the blanket between them.  “Yeah?”

Smiling, she just nodded, watching his face as he stared at her.  He slowly reached out a shaking hand, changing direction at the last moment to settle it on her stomach.  His fingers spread, covering the pale expanse, resting there, she supposed, to allow them both to grow comfortable with the touch.  Of course, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary; most nights they fell asleep snuggled together, his front to her back, palm anchoring her to him.

After an unknowable number of heartbeats his touch lightened until only his index finger caressed her skin, tracing designs.  With a jolt she realized it was his language, the same circular characters from the TARDIS, and she wondered if it was his name, if he was claiming her.

She hoped he was.

Her stomach tensed with anticipation as the digit meandered its way up her skin until it skimmed under her breasts.  At the first touch against the bottom curve of one she let out a sigh, sinking deeper into the blanket in an effort to relax.  She felt tightly strung, as though with a sudden move she would snap in two.  After three months of near-constant arousal, waiting for them to be in a place physically and emotionally to act on it, his fingers actually on her skin nearly caused her to burst into flames.

The fingertip skated up her breast, circling ever closer to her nipple.  Watching with bated breath, she mentally encouraged him closer, closer, closer… yes!  He brushed over it, gently flicking it back and forth, sending a bolt of arousal through her, her back instinctively arching up to force a firmer touch.

“Please,” Rose whimpered, fisting the blanket below her.  “Doctor, please.”  Startled eyes met hers, and he looked pleased, embarrassed, and aroused, all at once.

The Doctor didn’t reply, just brought his thumb down to smooth over the nub more firmly before pinching it between the thumb and index finger, rubbing it between them gently.

“Shit.”  She was panting now, too turned on to be embarrassed at how ready she was from such a simple touch.  Desire had transitioned to a desperate need, burning in her veins.

He turned his attention to her other breast, repeating the same torture, drawing more needy sounds from Rose.

“Can I-”

“Anything,” she interrupted, not caring as long he kept touching her.  His head slowly lowered, and she could already feel his mouth around her breast before he was there, but a sound behind him drew her attention away.  “Oh fuck, please, no.”

His head jerked up, blinking at her, but she didn’t pay attention, merely scrambling to turn onto her stomach.  A large group of people were coming up the beach from behind him, talking and carrying on, a mix of children and adults.  The last thing she wanted was to stop, but she wanted to find out the local decency laws even less.  Laying out topless was one thing, and the other group probably wouldn’t blink if they even noticed, but foreplay was another matter altogether.

“What do you want to do?” he asked quietly, glaring over his shoulder at the group.  They were still a decent ways away, barely audible, but it was no longer the quiet, private paradise it had been ten minutes previous.

Burying her face in the blanket, she let out a quiet scream of frustration as he rubbed her back.  Groaning, she turned her head to look up at him.  “We could go spend some time by the pool?”

“Well-”  A baby in the other group began to wail, and his face pinched.  “Yeah, let’s go.”

#bbatcfic #doctorroseprompts #ficandchips #Doctor Who #TenTooxRose #TenToo #Rose Tyler #prompted #Barcelona is for Lovers #oohlala

[raendown]

I have challenged myself to do a drabble for every day of March. Most of the projects I’m working at the moment are for events that won’t get posted until several months down the road and it’s making me feel unproductive to have nothing to post...so drabbles! 

Each day will be a random pairing and the inspiration for the chapters will all be taken from this prompt challenge. 

Day 1 Pairing: Madara/Tobirama Word count: 1042 Word: Scrosciare - the action of rain pouring down or of waves hitting rocks and cliffs

Follow the link or read it under the cut! 

Ko-FI and commission info in the header! 

Scrosciare - Madara/Tobirama

Tobirama’s natural element was water. He was born with a stronger affinity for it than had been seen in several generations, had been drawn to any sizable body of water since he learned to sit upright and splash in the shallows. If given the opportunity he could and would spend hours at a time soaking in a tub or onsen for the sheer pleasure of it.

And yet here he was standing under a natural overhang of rock scowling out at the torrential downpour falling around them. Madara crossed his arms and hunkered deeper against the pack he’d set between the wall and himself, amused to see the world’s paramount water user foiled by his own element.  It was, of course, fairly annoying to have lost the woman they were supposed to be tracking but it was almost worth it to see Tobirama brought down a peg or two. His head had been getting just a bit too big lately.

“Why don’t you just reach out for her chakra, oh great and powerful sensor?” Madara asked, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it anyway. Tobirama’s scowl was a visual symphony of triumph.

“I’m fucking exhausted,” he snarled back.

No further explanation than that was needed. They were both exhausted. Sending the two of them on the same mission had felt like overkill when all they expected to find was a handful of bandits blocking their path to negotiations with the Land of Lightning but it turned out they were all that kept each other alive when they were ambushed by the very people they had been sent to negotiate with. Hashirama was not going to be happy to hear that another land had rejected his offers of peace. Honestly Madara was far from surprised; it had taken each of them decades just to convince their own peoples, having others reject them off-hand was about the reaction he usually expected.

Shoving one hand out in to the rain, Tobirama allowed the water to pour down between his fingers and slowly his expression cleared as the feeling soothed him. It was something Madara had observed in him before, this deep connection to his element, the way it calmed him on the rare occasion he failed to calm himself.

“We’ll rest here until the rain stops and after I’ve slept I should have the energy to track the rest of them with sensing.” Tobirama turned away from the entrance and shook excess water from his hand, drying the palm against the front of his standard issue vest. “So shove over.”

“Not a chance. I’m quite comfortable, thank you.”

“If you don’t make room for me to fit back there as well then I will fall asleep on top of you. So shove.”

“How terrible,” Madara drawled. “What an awful fate, to have my own partner on top of me. Oh what shall I do to recover from such a traumatic event?”

Tobirama gave him an unimpressed look before quietly declaring, “Fine. Your choice.”

A moment later six feet and two hundred pounds of solid albino muscle flopped down over top of him with no effort made towards cushioning the blow. Madara wheezed and curled around the massive lump covering his legs and halfway up his chest, glaring and spluttering while he tried to find something suitably angry to say when he knew that he had brought this on himself.

“You’re a dick,” he settled for eventually.

“I wouldn’t have to be if you’d made room for me to lie beside you. Now shush. I need to rest.”

Madara huffed loudly just to be difficult but made no move to extract himself. Actually Tobirama’s weight on top of him was a pleasant warmth in the otherwise chilly half cave where they had taken shelter. It wasn’t even a properly enclosed area, just two walls and a natural ceiling to keep the weather off of them, but with the traps they had laid and the tree cover around the area it was enough for both of them to close their eyes and think about all the sleep they had been missing over the past few days.

Listening to the sound of the rain cascading over the rock, battering the earth and rustling the leaves of the forest, Madara thought perhaps he finally understood why Hashirama loved nature as much as he did. They were lucky to have been born in the Land of Fire where the world was full of so many colors rather than places like Suna where the desert stretched forever or Iwa where they made even their homes from nothing but rock. As irritating as it was sometimes to get caught in the rain like this, it was hard to imagine suffering through the exact same weather day in and day out with no relief.

Or maybe he was just feeling a little whimsical because he was tired enough to think laying with his partner of four years and listening to the rain was romantic. Madara snorted again, rustling the top of Tobirama’s head.

“You’ve already fallen asleep haven’t you?” he grumbled.

No answer came but steady breathing. When he looked down Tobirama’s eyes were closed and his face gone slack, deep in to unconsciousness for a well-earned rest.

“Hn. Well. I suppose I might as well sleep too if you’re going to trap me here.” Madara wrinkled his nose to hide the smile that wanted to form, not nearly as upset as he was trying to sound. Just in case Tobirama was only pretending to sleep, of course. He’d done that before and there was no need for either of them to embarrass themselves with blatant displays of emotion.

Closing his eyes again, Madara slipped both arms around his partner’s shoulders and let his head loll over to one side, hoping that sleep would find him just as quickly as it had the other. Dreams were always a little less embarrassing than his emotions. At least his dreams were just for him; no one else had to know what sort of mushy crap he thought about in the dead of the night or the plans he made for the future. That was for him to know and the rain to wash away.

#rae writes #march of the drabbles #madatobi #madara #tobirama #fanfiction

[glympsis]

Soldier keep on marching on, Head down til the work is done. Waiting for the morning sun, Soldier keep on marching on Kaylee was fidgeting.

She had ridden her bike across town, the route still familiar despite the months it had been since she had followed it last. She had almost thought she would forget it on the way, but her bike had continued as though responding to a homing beacon only it could sense. She had turned on all the same corners, passed all the same stores, saw the same shopkeeps and workers that had been there before. She hadn’t stopped to talk to them, hadn’t even raised a hand to wave, her bike a thing possessed, the feeling stirring in her chest spurring her on.

She rode into the complex, her bike coming to a quick stop at the end of a walkway that looked like all the others. Gravel scattered before her wheels, skittering across the pavement and bouncing into the rain gutter, where it disappeared with a rain of clicks and pings.

There wasn’t a hint of anything being amiss, but there never was. Her lips twisted slightly in distaste as she pulled a headphone out of her ear and straightened, one sneaker placed on the ground for balance as she examined the door. The street beyond her headphones was silent, the only sound the rush of cars two blocks back, the dried leaves scraping the ground as the wind picked up, the grass whispering as it moved. The late autumn afternoon still had hints of summer, the only chill brought by the breeze as it accosted her hoodie before moving on to easier targets. A cat raced across the street a few houses down, but for that one creature, she was alone.

Frowning now, the black girl finally moved, swinging her leg over her bike and holding it firmly by the handlebars as she pushed it over the curb and onto the walking path. She deposited it unceremoniously in the grass beside the entrance, only glancing at it for a moment before examining the door again.

Raising a fist, she knocked twice, the sound loud in the otherwise stillness of the neighborhood. A hand came up and unclasped the strap across her chin, and she pulled her biking helmet off, running her hand through her braids a few times and shaking her head to get circulation back to her brain. The helmet was always tighter than usual when she had her braids in, and her scalp rejoiced in the ability to breathe again. She tossed the helmet toward her bike, not even, glancing at where it landed before knocking again, shifting her weight back and forth for a moment before pulling her phone out of her back pocket. Her deep brown eyes scanned the lighted screen and its flurry of notifications with a learned and efficient disinterest, not bothering to click the screen again before sliding it back into her pocket.

She could leave. She knew it in her bones. The message had been vague, and it hadn’t actually requested her presence. She knew that she could easily spin it that she’d missed it, that she’d been in one of her writing moods and hadn’t glanced at her phone in the last 24 hours. She did it all the time. But, she had glanced at her phone. She had seen the message. And there was a feeling deep in her gut that told her to be here. To check. And it would nag her the way it was now, as she hesitated before the door. It was the feeling that had spurred her out of the apartment she shared with Maggie, away from plans of movie night with the others. It was the feeling that had her pull her bike out of storage and bike here like she was still in college, instead of simply asking someone for a ride. It was the feeling that had her standing here, at the door, knowing without a doubt that she was going to go in, no matter how long she stalled.  Maggie would tell her that she didn’t owe anyone anything, but Kaylee knew that if she left now, she’d never forgive herself for not checking. That was just how it was. She hadn’t hesitated the entire way here, why was she hesitating now?

The answer being, of course, that her brain had had time to catch up with her.

Her phone buzzed once, but the writer ignored it, instead finally pulling her keys out of her other pocket. She had a myriad of keys, golden and silver, powder blue and green, some with rubber grips in pink and red and orange. Her keychains varied as well, a Slytherin crest, a red phone booth, a tin owl and teacup. She had so many keys that people usually didn’t ask what they opened. Sometimes, she wished they would. Just to give her an excuse to get rid of some.

She almost thought he would have changed the lock, but he hadn’t. Of course not. He hated change that he could avoid.

So did she.

The key attached to the teacup slid home easily, the lock clicking with the ease of something new. The door swung inward, the golden sunlight of the late afternoon streaming into the otherwise dark apartment. Kaylee stepped in and slid the door closed behind her, not needing light to know where she was headed. Her fear of the dark was never active here.

First, she headed into the living room, beelining straight to the window. She pulled the curtains back, letting the light in, and when she turned back she could properly see. The couch was exactly where she remembered it, faded in all the same places, the TV silent and vacant without her gaming systems there.

Next stop was the kitchen. The sink and counters were clean but barren, and she was sure the fridge wouldn’t be much different. She pulled the blinds on the kitchen window as well. Slowly, she made her way back through the living room and into the hallway, sliding the lock on the front door home with a click before looking down the hallway toward the bedrooms. This, of course, was the tricky part. What if he wasn’t home? What if he had company?

The writer made a face, but continued down the hallway, passing the spare bedroom and bathroom, the dark hallway much less intimidating with the light from the living room.

She didn’t bother knocking. If he didn’t know she was there yet, he wasn’t home.

Slowly, she placed her palm on the door, then pushed in, stepping into the familiar smell and heat of Art’s bedroom. She didn’t spare a glance at the bed, instead beelining to the window, missing the movement of the blankets. She pulled the curtain back, letting the deep golden light of late afternoon stream into the room. When she turned back to the room, the bed had a noticeable lump, and the blankets had been yanked over the man’s head.

His room, at least, was neat. A sloppy room for Art was an entirely different meltdown.

Exhaling through her nose, Kaylee made her way to his side of the bed. Carefully wrapping her fingers around the edge of the blanket, she yanked the blanket down, not even noticing that as she did that the lump obscured by the covers was smaller than before. Now revealed, Art looked like shit. His hair was a mess, there were deep purple crescents beneath his eyes, and even with his eyes closed, he seemed to shrink away from the light. She was robbed of further examination by his arms wrapping around her and rolling her onto the bed with him, the man quickly pulling the blanket back over their heads before he opened his eyes. His hold loosened around her, and his gaze turned shocked.

“You’re not Chris.”

“Thanks for noticing.” Kaylee toned her voice level. Art, for his part, simply looked puzzled, his eyes tracing over her face. It smelled a lot like him under his blankets, and Kaylee found herself grateful that it didn’t smell like anything else. In this state, who knew the last time he’d washed his sheets.

The silence between them stretched, and she found that watching his expression change while he thought was making her uncomfortable, especially since she could read it.

“I take it you don’t remember texting me.” She said, unable to trace the relief that came when Art’s face went from wondering to mortified.

“Oh,” he said, throwing his head back and slapping his hand to his forehead. His other arm was still trapped beneath her side, or he would have put both hands there, as usual, she was sure.  “Shit, Kaylee. I’m sorry. I had a really long assignment. I must have been too tired to delete it.”

“Delete it?” She echoed, tilting her head. Art turned pink.

“Yeah.” He said, having weighed his options and seemingly decided that truth was the best bet. “I still… have the reflex. Of texting you when I’m exhausted from work. Usually, I just delete it because… you know…” his words trailed off lamely, and Kaylee bit back a grin.

“But we’re still friends. If you need me, you know I’ll show up.”

“I know.” His voice, however, was full of wonder, and his hold on her tightened in a brief hug before he released her. “But I’m good. Honest.” She narrowed her eyes, and his eyes rolled skyward, before he held up a hand, two fingers pressed together, then spread his fingers in the Vulcan salute. “I swear on Senator Spock, okay?”

She was still suspicious, but the familiar move set her mind at ease. Not to mention that now that she was looking at him properly, he looked much better. His hair was still a mess, but his smile was genuine, and yes he was exhausted, but she must have imagined the bags beneath his eyes because they were gone.

She gave a huff and sat up, ignoring Art’s complaint as the blanket moved and he was assaulted by sunlight.

“Alright.” She said, swinging her feet back on the ground and missing the way his grin faltered as she moved away from him. “But I’m still ordering you your post-assignment pizza. Non-negotiable.”

The smile he gave her was blinding.

“You’re an angel, Kaylee.”

“Thousand eyes and all?”

“Thousand eyes and all.”

#u: lucky you #c: lucky me #c: pinky the red boy