#(i wore a mask the entire time we only have 1 known case and it was literally my first time socializing in months)

[chrisevansjellybeans]

Happier|Part Two

A/N: Here it is! Thank you to everyone who has read part 1 and has sent back such kind feedback. It really means a lot! 

Part 1

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: swearing, angsty as hell 

Just open the fucking door.

You hesitated as your right hand hovered over the familiar front door. Over the last five years you’ve always just walked in. This home was like your home. But now, he wasn’t just his.  

“Just walk in. It’s not rocket science.” You muttered to yourself. Sighing you tapped your fist against the wood. 

Your body relaxed a smile fell on your face as you heard Dodger’s familiar bark ring through the house as he approached the door. 

“Alright, bubba. Relax.” The butterflies flurried in your stomach as Chris’s voice carried past the door. You gave a small smile as the door flung open to reveal a shirtless Chris. “Why did you knock, you meatball.” 

You just shrugged and quickly gave him a hug. 

“What are your plans for tonight?” You asked as you both made your way to the kitchen, his arm slung loosely over your shoulder. 

“I was supposed to go watch the game with Scott but he wasn’t feeling too hot, so I’m actually just going to stay in. But don’t worry, I won’t get in the way of your girls night.” He laughed, ruffling your hair as you turned the corner and caught view of Carissa. 

“Yeah no boys allowed. Right, Y/N?” Carissa dried off her hands and rushed over to you, pulling you into a full body hug. You bit back the frustration when you realized that she was wearing the shirt that you always wore whenever you would spend the night at Chris’s, the familiar fabric like sandpaper under your fingertips now as you gently hugged her back. 

“Yeah. No boys.” You said meekly as you took another good look at her. The shirt looked way better on her than it ever did on you. It fell just below her hips, the way it did on you but she somehow made it look so stylish. She just had on a pair of workout leggings underneath and fluffy socks. Her blonde hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail and you noticed how she managed to not look like a founding father with her hair pulled back. 

Subconsciously you twisted the bottom of your oversized college crewneck in your fingers. You were practically wearing the same thing as her but you felt like a middle school girl in gym class while she just screamed model off duty. 

Add that to the reasons he noticed her and not me. 

You needed to stop comparing yourself to her. But it was hard when the stark contrasts were so evident. 

“So,” Carissa clapped her hands together. “Chris told me about your love for tequila so I made some of my famous spicy margaritas! And I just put on some popcorn and I may have gone a little overboard at Ulta today.” 

You followed her gaze and it landed on an array of face masks and nail polish. 

“Sounds like my que to leave. Have fun, ladies.” Chris pecked you on the cheek before pulling Carissa into a passionate kiss. You turned away, your face reddening. 

“Thanks, baby.” You heard Carissa sigh. You heard the sound of them kissing again and you looked for any welcome distraction. 

As if he could feel your pain, a wet nose booped your hand and you smiled down at your favorite little pup. 

“Hi buddy.” You bent down and pressed a kiss to his nose. “I’ve missed you so much. Yes I have.” You ruffled his fur and smiled a genuine smile as he started licking your face. 

“Oh boy, Bubba found his girlfriend.” Chris laughed as he bent down next to you. “I think he missed you more than I did when we were in Canada. Every time we would FaceTime his ears would perk up.” 

“That’s cause he’s my best bud.” You kept talking to Dodger. 

“Ouch.” Chris gently pushed you. You winked in his direction and for a moment everything felt normal. Chris’s eyes sparkled as if he was appreciating the normalcy too. 

“Chris, please.” You were snapped out of it when Carissa let out a playful whine. 

Chris blinked and then slapped his hands on his knees and stood up. “Alright, baby. I’m gone.” 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

“He did not!” Carissa burst out laughing as you finished telling the story of when Chris singlehandedly knocked down an entire aisle in CVS. 

“I’ve never seen him turn so red in my life. I think he went back to that CVS every day for the next year to apologize. And of course he stayed afterwards to help clean up.” You wiped your eyes, tears falling from laughter. 

“Sounds just like him.”  

You took another sip of your margarita. You were surprised at how much fun you were actually having. You guys had just finished your second sheet mask of the night and were currently working on demolishing the stuffed crust pizza you ordered. Manis and Pedis to follow. 

“Have I walked in on an evil plan being hatched?” You both turned as Chris emerged from the basement, Dodger in tow. Thankfully he had put a shirt on because his tattoos always did something to you. 

“Had to share the CVS Incident of ‘17.” You replied as Carissa hid her face as she giggled again. 

“Oh god,” Chris groaned, slapping his hand to his forehead. “Please. Let that story die.” You watched as he positioned himself behind Carissa, caging her in with his arms. You always knew Chris was an affectionate person. If it was a year ago, you would have been the one trapped between him. He had a lot of love to give and wasn’t afraid to show it. He placed a kiss on the top of her head before his blue eyes met yours. 

You knew that he was silently asking you if you were having a good time. You could see the sense of hope that was behind the question. 

“You came up just in time for a manicure.” Carissa turned around on the stool and smiled up at her boyfriend. “I’m thinking hot pink would look amazing on you.” 

“I don’t know, I think he’s more of an aquamarine kind of guy.” You lifted up the shade of blue that was in front of you. “Compliments his eyes.” 

“Ooh, you are so right, Y/N/N.” 

“Wow, would you look at that? Looks like the game is back on.” Chris jokingly started moving away from Carissa.

“Oh come on, baby. One hand.” Carissa pulled at his hand, her lips coming out in a pout.

Chris gave her a look of fake annoyance but you could see the smile forming on his lips before he let out a dramatic sigh.

“One hand.” 

“Yay!” 

You watched as Chris sat down and Carissa got to work painting his nails. 

“Okay, Y/N. Tell me about the men in your life.” Carissa looked away from Chris’s hand and turned to you.

“Well, I guess you’ve already met them. Chris, Scott and Dodger are it.” You shrugged, half kidding and half not. Chris gave you a look of what you could only call pity and you chose to ignore him. You could feel your face become hot at your lack of a love life. 

“Oh that can’t be the case. You’re absolutely gorgeous, there’s no way that men aren’t all over you. Right, Chris? Tell her she’s beautiful.” 

“She knows I think she’s beautiful.” Chris said, his tone seriously as his eyes never left yours. “It’s more of getting her to know that.”  

“We’re not going to talk about it.” 

You and Chris stared each other down before Carissa cleared her throat. 

“Well one day you are going to find something like what we have.  The hopeless romantic in me truly believes that there is someone for everyone; and I know that if we can find happiness like this, so can you. You’re an amazing person, Y/N.” 

You looked down and bit your lip. You wanted so badly not to like her, to have her be some terrible person so you could justify the feelings that you had for her boyfriend. And yet, here she was, being the kindest person and caring truly for your feelings and your happiness. 

“Thank you, Carissa.” 

She smiled a toothy grin before turning her attention back to Chris. Chris kept his eyes on you a moment longer but when you didn’t look back he sighed and focused on his girlfriend. 

- - - - - - - 

“You don’t have to do that.” Carissa came up behind you as you finished washing the plates from before. 

“It’s really no problem.” You shrugged. “You did all of this, the least I can do is clean up.” 

“Yeah, but you’re my guest. A host should never have her guest clean up.” You knew she meant it without malice but the words stung. She was right. That’s all you were in this house, a guest. You were their guest. They lived here, together. 

You just nodded and finished the plate you were cleaning before stepping away from the sink so Carissa could finish. You mumbled that you were headed to the bathroom and quickly made your departure from the kitchen. 

You rounded the familiar corner and bit your lip as you were five steps away from the bathroom, where you could finally take a deep breath. 

“Hey sweetheart.” You jumped as Chris stepped out of his bedroom, a grin plastered on his face. “I think you made a good call on the nail polish color.” He waved his fingers in your face, jokingly. 

You let out a soft laugh but refused to meet his eyes, instead eying the bathroom door that was so close and yet so far. 

“Okay, come on.” Chris’s voice got serious. “Is there something going on at work? Are you sick? Why are you so…” Chris motioned his hands up and down your body. 

“So what, Chris?” 

“So sad?” His eyebrows creased in concern. “You know you can tell me anything.” 

Not everything. 

“I told you at the restaurant, I’m fine.” 

“Yeah and I barely believed you then.” You bit your lip and once again looked away from him. You should have known that he knew you were lying out of your ass. 

“Chris, it doesn’t matter. It’s not your problem.” You huffed. 

“Of course it’s my problem.” He said as if it was the most obvious thing.

“But it’s not.” You snapped. Chris took a step back at your sudden change in attitude. “Just back off. You’re not my boyfriend.” 

“And?” He snapped back, but he did move closer to you. He reached out and grabbed your forearms, pulling you into him.  “I may not be your boyfriend but I am your best friend.” 

“Chris, just let it go. It doesn’t even concern you.” You lied as you pushed him away.  

“Well clearly this one thing as something to do with me. Since you’ve been acting like a mega bitch since I got home.” He crossed his arms. 

You took a step back. Chris had never called you that before. Yes, you two had gotten into some heated discussions in the past and maybe have gone a couple times without talking to each other for maybe a day. But never once has he called you a bitch. 

“Chris!” Carissa’s scolding voice came from behind. “Apologize to her right now, there is no reason to call any woman that word.” 

Chris’s gaze held yours before it softened. 

He sighed and dropped his arms. “Fuck...sweetheart. I’m-” 

“Thank you for having me over, Carissa. I really did have a great time.” You turned away from him before he could finish. “I think I’m going to head out though.” 

“Of course.” Carissa glared at Chris over your shoulder. “Please let us-or me, know when you get home. We can plan another one soon.” 

“Sure.” You smiled weakly at her before casting one last look at Chris. He opened his mouth to say something but you just shook your head and made your way out of the house. 

Tags

@stopbeingcurious 

@lharrietg​

@thesecretlifeofdaydreamss

@username23345​

#chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans happier #happier

[nanagoswife]

Bending The Law - Part 1

Summary: You’re a lawyer in Gotham. You are supposed to uphold the law, but you defend the unlawful to help out the underworld. It felt like your duty as your father was apart of it. After a huge case, it leads you to a new place.

A/N: This is the first time I’m keeping a story to a specific character. If there’s any tips or pointers you have, I’d be more than glad to hear them. Enjoy!

“We find the defendant,” your heart was pounding. So much of your time was taken while trying to keep your client out of jail. The juror continued, “not guilty of first degree murder.” 

The breath that you were holding in escaped you. All the tension and stress from these months was released at the words. Overwhelming joy filled you while looking at the happiness in your client’s eyes.

“Thank you so much, Y/N. You’ve done so much for me.”

“It was my pleasure,” you leaned in closer. “Try to be more careful next time.” A smile spread across his face and he gave a small nod before joining the small crowd that supported him through the trial. There were a few new faces in the group, you noticed.

You turned away and packed everything up. The notepads, documents, they all went into the case you carried with you since your first trial. This case, though, had been the toughest one yet. Yes, you represent many people from the underworld of Gotham, but it didn’t really bother you. You grew up with it. 

Your father was the head of some criminal group that you never knew the name of. All you had known was, when you were still a teenager, he had allied with another criminal empire so that he could spend more time with you and your family.

“Excuse me,” a voice sounded from behind you. Turning to the voice, you saw a man with short white hair and a few scars on his face. He seemed familiar for some reason. “On behalf of our boss, we thank you. We really needed him.”

A small grin appeared on your face, “I owed him this.”

Confusion slightly showed on his face at your words. You told him about how he once covered for you in the past. He was a childhood friend and gave you a few alibis to keep you out of trouble from your father. 

“Ah. Well, thank you again.” The man nodded and joined the rest of the group who waited at the door for him. 

Before they walked out, your client gave you a wave. Smiling, you waved back before turning to your case and packing the last few pens and whiteout. There was someone you were meeting and you’d be damned if you were late. 

Running up the doorsteps, you rung the doorbell. Looking at your watch, you were relieved to see you were a few minutes early.

The door swung open to reveal your sister. “For once, you’re not late, kiddo.”

“You know my job eats up my time, sis.” A laugh chimed from her as she tugged you into her house. You almost completely fell to the floor from the force.

Your sister, Kristy, strode towards her kitchen with a skip in her step. There was no doubt that she was grabbing a drink for the two of you. One thing you had noticed was that your sister was dressed up.

“Did you have a plan for the night that I didn’t know about?” The question was one you needed an answer to. Usually you’d leave it be and just go with the flow, but you were expecting that you were just going to a regular restaurant. 

Kristy turned around and held eye contact with you before speaking, “We are going somewhere to not only get food, but also party, kiddo.”

“I thought all the bars around here had crappy food. We already tested this out long ago,” you said. Not only were you confused, but you dreaded having to eat the terrible food they all had. 

“Hell no. There is one place that I’m sure you’ve heard of.”

“What did we miss?”

“The Black Mask Club,” she said with excitement. “A friend of mine told me about it.”

“And by friend, do you mean Zach?” She gave a sly smirk as she started towards you. Reaching you, she took your hands in hers.

For a moment she stayed like that. You saw she was trying to choose the right words, “Yes. He’s also meeting us there.” 

Kristy seemed to shrink as if she was waiting for a negative response. Honestly, you didn’t care. It meant that you could get out of having to actually talk all night. Your sister seemed to only ever talk. So, you were more than happy to know you wouldn’t be the only one on the receiving end.

The only answer you gave was a shrug. Slowly, a smile grew on Kristy’s face.

“Is that what you’re going to wear?” she gestured to the blue dress you wore.

“Why? Is something wrong with it?”

The smile reappeared on her face, “No. It’s amazingly stunning!”

“Hey, boss!” Roman turned around to the voice. He was greeted by Zsasz who was still closing the distance between them.

Seeing that he was lighter in his steps made him optimistic, “I hope there’s good news.” He was glad that the club hadn’t opened just yet. It assured that they would be able to have this conversation without any prying eyes.

“The greatest actually. Michael was found not guilty!” A large smile spread across Zsaz’s face, “That lawyer fucking pulled it off!” 

A great sense of joy filled Roman. Michael was valuable and he couldn’t afford to lose him. He wanted to know who the lawyer was. When he offered, Michael had turned down using one of Roman’s. He said that he already had one.

“That’s spectacular news! Just for that, we’ll let him celebrate. Anyone who he brings that was supposed to be stationed tonight, get it filled.” With that, Victor nodded and started arranging anything and everything Roman told him.

Watching Victor disappear, he decided he’d wait to ask about the lawyer. He wanted to thank them in person. Hearing about it all from the news and Victor, he knew how much work was put in to get this result. It only costed months of non-stop work to find any little thing that would show innocence.

Sitting down to think, a martini was brought over. Not only did the lawyer amaze him, but he admired the dedication. Instead of paying off witnesses or judges or finding a way to tamper with something, this lawyer went deep.

They didn’t play dirty, they did it the hard way and searched for any loophole that would apply. Yes, he wanted to meet them. For now, he’d celebrate.

“Are you sure they’re actually going to have good food?” Honestly, that was the only thing you really cared about. The trial you had only let you have cheap takeout and delivery. After it all, you really just wanted a decent meal.

Kristy was about to reply, but got distracted when she saw Zach walking towards them. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes once they met each other.

Zach waved hello before taking your sister into his arms. Uncomfortable, you looked away to where you saw the line for the club. How had you never heard of this place?

“Come on,” you heard Zach suddenly say. Being the third wheel, you walked behind them. A small chuckle came from you as you thought about the relationship those two had. They weren’t exclusive, but more like friends that got some fun when they wanted. It didn’t really make sense to you.

Walking to the front of the line, the guard at the front let you all in and gave a nod to Zach. Loud music filled your ears as you walked into the club. The sight of everyone dancing, drinking and talking all around made you smile.

Your arm was suddenly pulled, “Follow us, kiddo. Zach got a table reserved for us!” Resisting the urge to roll your eyes again, you obeyed. 

Almost instantly, a waitress came over to take your drink order. Thankfully, there was a great assortment of real food. Joy filled you.

After some time, Zach and Kristy left you to go and dance after enjoying their own meal. Not feeling up to it, you just stayed and sat at your table. It gave you time to admire the red setting.

Red, that was a great choice for what you usually saw going on at clubs. Passion, heat, joy, activity and love. What type of love? It didn’t matter. All you knew was that it represented what clubs really were in many ways. Even in the darker aspects.

“Y/N!” you suddenly heard a voice yell your name. Looking over, you saw your client, Michael. A smile spread across your face as you watched him make his way over to you from his group.

Giving a small laugh, you stood up and hugged him. “Let me guess, celebrating today’s victory?” you said while pulling away from your long time friend. His own smile spread across his face.

“You know it. Now let me guess. You’re here with your sister who ditched you for or with a guy.”

“Well, you know Kristy. Always having fun,” you replied sarcastically.

Laughing, he placed a hand on your shoulder. “Why don’t you come with me. I’m sure my friends won’t mind. You are basically my sister after all.” Lightly he pushed your shoulder with a playful tint in his eyes.

Shrugging, you accept. Michael’s smile grew bigger as he gestured for you to follow him to the table he was at. 

Roman arrived to a very lively Friday night crowd. Usually he would’ve been pleased, but annoyance was the only thing tugging on him. Not because of visitors, but because of the situation he just had to deal with. How he wished he could just kill the clown.

Going to the bar, his drink was immediately placed on the counter. His eyes searched around to spot any issues at all. 

A smile played on his lips when he saw Michael and his group. One person caught his eye. There was a girl laughing along to the conversation they were all having. She looked very comfortable with the group.

For a moment, he studied you. You were amazingly beautiful. His mind started to wander as he continued to study your features.

Roman wanted to know more about who this girl was. He was glad that he had a reason to go over there anyways. Ever since Zsasz told him the news, he had been caught up with phone calls. Michael deserved a personal congratulations for his victory.

“So, Y/N, how the hell did you pull that victory off?” one of the men asked after settling his laughter. 

“A shit ton of Chinese food,” you replied, still laughing. The entire group burst out in their own laughter.

It died down as soon as someone said, “Here comes the boss.” Following Michael’s gaze, you saw a man in a white suit with some sort of floral button-up shirt walking towards you. One of his gloved hands raised his martini glass as a greeting.

“My, my. Look who it is,” Michael stood up as the man started talking once he was close enough. They shared a firm handshake.

“Roman Sionis, I would like you to meet Y/N Y/L/N.” You stood up and exchanged your own handshake, nervousness slightly filling you. He was someone you only knew through reputation. “She’s not only like my little sister, but she’s the one who worked tirelessly these few months to keep my ass out of jail,” he exclaimed.

A surprised but pleased expression wiped Roman’s face. Your cheeks went red at the compliment, “I was just doing my job. I also owed you for all you did for me as kids.” Playfully, you pushed at Michael’s shoulder.

“Well, I greatly appreciate your dedication, Y/N. Would you like a drink?” Roman asked. There was something in his tone that made you feel like you couldn’t refuse. 

Smiling up at Michael, you gave him another nudge before looking back at Roman. “Sure. See you in a bit Mikey,” you said as you walked towards Roman. He gestured to a path that led to the bar.

@stardancerluv @jaydenwoo

#roman sionis pov #roman sionis #roman x reader #black mask x reader #bop #Ewan McGregor #fanfic #roman sionis x reader #roman sionis x y/n

[botwstoriesandsuch]

The Champion’s Identities 10,000 years back

I was tagged in this post by @no-themes-just-memes for a theory about the original Divine Beast pilots 10,000 years back. This was too big for a reblog so here is this...

This tapestry, the one that was passed down to Impa, over what I can assume is a lot of generations, is pretty much our only information regarding the original Champions. It’s well guarded, behind Impa, which is near where their “treasured heirloom” was kept so it’s definitely a valuable heirloom.

[Full theory/analysis below the cut]

Now the fact that it’s in Impa’s possession and clearly in the Sheikah style is obvious to the fact that it was Sheikah-made, but just to reiterate that point, you can clearly see the Sheikah text, swirl designs, eye symbol, and obsession with constellations that other Sheikah stuff (like shrines) have. Impa’s version is much more weathered, which in comparison to the much brighter and refined picture I have at the top, obviously means that this piece of art is old. This was definitively made by the Sheikah and not something that was from the Hyrulean Family as other people may think

Why is this important? Well firstly, and a bit off topic, but I think this confirms that the sealing of Ganondorf in botw 2 was done by the Sheikah as the wall art in the trailer is of Sheikah style and not the Zonai (although that’s on the pretense that this art of ganondorf is related to his sealing, and not just art depicting the events of something else entirely, which could also be likely to be fair)

Anyhow, the fact that this was done by the Sheikah, means that we can definitively say that the art here is not only accurate, but we can understand that the artist had the basic knowledge on what the different races across Hyrule were when making this. Basically, I’m saying that this isn’t a case of “Oh this was a legend passed down through time and this art was made by someone 100 years ago so the description of the Champions is not accurate.” No. This was by the ancient Sheikah, who had first hand, or at least very close hand, knowledge on the events and more specifically what the Champions looked like. 

[And I can further prove this because the tapestry in the trailer is obviously woven, and not inked into, unlike the other more “modern” art across Hyrule that you see in the game. It’s on an almost papyrus like “paper” and not the more modern book binding paper that is present across Hyrule, the only exception being the Rito, but again, this is definitely Sheikah design]

If we understand that the depictions of the Champions are accurate, and not the result of misinterpretation through myths passed down to later artist, we can actually use the art of the Champions as fact to identify them. 

I’ll start off with this, none of the Champions were Rito, Goron, Hylian, or Sheikah.

Rito and Goron are easy to disprove, the shape of the Champions are vastly different from the larger, circular Gorons, and there are no wings, beaks, or talons present on any of them, so Rito is a no.

You could argue that Medoh’s pilot has a beak, but 1) There’s still no wings or talons, tail, or even feathers. 2) It’s more likely a helmet, such as the Divine Beast Vah Medoh Helm which is canonically worn by the pilot/controller of a Divine Beast. We will come back to that point.

None of the pilots are Hylians or Sheikah, because the tapestry includes depictions of those very races in the same piece. The Hylians are depicted very human like, and the Sheikah are all with their signature masks with their symbol on it. Both, vastly different than the styles of the pilots. 

(And also the Sheikah race devoted themselves to assisting the Hyrulean family with their technology and knowledge and not with direct combat making it unlikely they were pilots)

[btw there’s a theory that the corpse in botw 2 is actually the hero because they could both be Gerudo/ganondorf, cause the hero in this tapestry was Gerudo cause of the skin tone and hair or something... but I’m 99% sure that’s wrong because 1) the curse of demise wouldn’t allow Ganon to be the good guy and 2) the hero clearly has pointed ears, something not developed by the Gerudo (who had rounded ears) for many many many generations]

[Fun fact! This last image showing the ancient Sheikah being cast out displays them escaping to the Forgotten Temple (with the large goddess statue) and some of them also splitting off to become the Yiga Clan]

The only possible known races left are the Gerudo and Zora, but I’m very hesitant to even say that for a few reasons I’ll get into later.

The reason they’re not crossed off completely is because they have distinct arms and legs which Zora and Gerudo have, shocker I know. In addition, it could be argued that the red hair that some of the pilots have indicate their Gerudo race. Also, the pilot for Divine Beast Vah Ruta has a skirt/petitcoat like fins around their waist which could be argued to indicate a Zora. However, this obviously won’t explain the other pilots, but we’ll get to that soon.

[I’m not gonna re-screenshot the other pilot just scroll up and look at how their hair color is red ok]

Now, other than those obscure observations, this leaves me with my two theories. The simplest one, is that the pilots were actually Hylians, or Zora, or some other race, but they’re depictions here have them in armour, so it is impossible to tell. This lines up with the amibo descriptions of the Divine Beast Helms, which were worn by those who controlled the beasts, giving reason to the pilot’s unusual head shape. Not far-fetched to assume that they’re might have been a fully fledged Sheikah pilot armour made at some point. 

[could be argued that the this helm explains the “tusk” or “trunk” like blue shape on the Ruta pilot’s face]

In addition, notice how the pilots are all wearing the same colors as their Divine Beasts. The Ruta pilot with the same shade of blue, the Rudania with the orange, Medoh with the green, and the Naboris pilot with the red (and yes its a different color than the Ruta one, I checked its a darker shade). This could explain away the coat-like shapes on the Ruta pilot, and and previously mentioned beak shape on the Medoh pilot. No race (other than the Zora, but again, they’re unlikely) have these colors naturally, so we can only assume it is armour that makes their weird body shapes.

[Again, I’m not gonna re-screenshot them just scroll up or take my word for it :p]

So theory one is just that, their races are ambiguous/unknown because of the ancient Sheikah armour they wore, perhaps to protect their identities? Or, perhaps because Nintendo was lazy and didn’t think it was that important, which is fair, it really doesn’t impact the story that much.

What it does impact is my ability to theorize and assign meaning to things that they didn’t intend to, in the hope that I’m might be right, which brings us to theory 2.

I say that the pilots are not Gorons, Rito, Hylians, Sheikah, Zora or Gerudo. Now you might be thinking “That’s literally every race in Hyrule how is that possible?” and to that I saw no, no it’s not.

If we skedaddle back to my brief mention of the Zonai in that one paragraph a good 5 minutes ago (for your average reading speed idk) we can remember the Zonai people, responsible for the ruins across the Faron, Thyplho, Upper Eldin, and all three of the mazes in the corners of Hyrule. Their culture and ruins are vastly different than the Sheikah and Hylian, but they’re assumed to have human-like characteristic given their relation to the barbarian armour set, as I assume that the tribe from the Faron region is at the very least connected with the Zonai

This armour, by the way, is only found when completing Sheikah shrines, meaning the Sheikah must have made contact with the Zonai at least 10,000 years ago. Much easier to be in touch with someone if they’re...I don’t know, recruiting their people to pilot a giant mech of yours, wouldn’t you say?

Secondly as to why I think the pilots are all Zonai, is this line from Impa

These pilots were from “across the land.” Of course, you might initially interpret that line to prove that the pilots must have been of different races and background (ergo, Theory 1) but then how could you explain the similarities all four of the pilots have to each other.

All the pilots have darker skin (something that might be common if your people originated from a lush jungle, such as the Faron?) they all have distinct arms and legs, they all have hair, and are all of similar proportion, which is different than that of the Sheikah and Hylian. 

I’m saying that all the pilots were off the same race, and what other race is present “across the land” other than Hylians? The Zonai, present in all four corners of Hyrule as proven by their ruins. 

The Champions of 10,000 years back were Zonai, wearing special Sheikah made armour and helms, and helped the Hylian princess and the hero defeat and seal Calamity Ganon. While the Sheikah were later pushed out, no such violence or discrimination was recorded against these Champions because they were not Sheikah. Their race and names faded with time because just like their Zonai people, they and their tribe disappeared mysteriously never to be seen again. This is why their identities and race were left unknown, because their people were not remembered.

But that’s just a theory...a GAME THEORY. Thanks for watc— uh reading? Thanks for reading :P 

#botw #breath of the wild #legend of zelda botw #loz botw #botw 2 #botw 2 theory #botw theory

[capricornus-rex]

Someone Left to Save (4)

Cal Kestis x Reader

Requested by Anon

Summary: The Mantis crew arrives to the capital of Ulfin, in the planet of Pevera, under siege. They meet the local rebel cell spearheaded by the former Republic admiral, Jax Beneb, who seeks to destroy the Empire’s occupation that was aggressively imposed upon while exploiting the planet of its natural resources. A plan is devised to destroy the Imperial’s main base of operations—as well as their influence—in the planet; however, it was a do-or-die mission that you and Cal had gotten yourselves caught in.

A/N: I was actually a bit afraid that this chapter won’t exactly have the oomph that I was going for ;;w;; Let me know what you think of this chapter and sorry for the delay! My compulsive self had the need to make it perfect and emotional the way I imagined it to be.

Also in AO3

Chapters: 1 – 2 | Previous: Part 3 | Next: Part 5 | Masterlist

4 of ?

The inferno had died down, sated of the metal and flesh that it had devoured upon its blistering wake.

In the rubble, you lay there half-dead, perhaps half-awake. Though in this case, did it even matter which half is which?

Your eyelids slowly opened, particles of dirt that seated along the lining of your eyes made it hard for you to open them. You can’t make of your current location, though the last thing you remember is the heat boiling under your feet while the fire catches up to the elevator while you recovered your strength, the speed of the turbolift cell in a nerve-racking race against the cascading flame, and throwing yourself out of the elevator the very split second the door opened.

“Am I dead…?” your voice was dead quiet that it’s almost as if your subconscious was the one speaking. You asked yourself, still as a stone in where you lie. “Is there something broken?”

The former’s answer was no. Air still entered your lungs.

A few more blinks and the dust had cleared off of your lashes; your field of vision is filled with the monotonous shade of brown, gray, and black mingling together, with specs of glowing red embers floating about the clouds of smoke wafting over you. No heavy debris fell on you, but bodily movement is limited, the only thing you can move is your head. The dust and smoke constantly pricked your eyes that you couldn’t keep them open for long.

You hear footsteps, heavy and slow, you search the person only to find a silhouette closing in on you. When it got close enough, he bent down but you still couldn’t recognize whoever this was.

“C-Cal…?”

The shadow didn’t speak, except a baritone growl rumbled out of him. He stands back up and vanished from your line of sight. The next thing you know, you feel two arms hooking under your shoulders, dragging you out of the debris, bumping into a slab of concrete or metal here and there. He didn’t notice that the bracelet you wore, now scorched to the point that the thread has split and fell to the ground as he towed you.

A few inches of being dragged across the floor later, the hulking figure adjusted himself and lifted you up to his shoulder, carrying you like a sack. It didn’t last long though, the stranger had settled you in a hovering gurney, you felt it sink as it accepted your weight and then rise again to its default level; while you’re still clinging onto the last string of consciousness, a pair of voices—distinguishably female and male, the latter being the one who pulled you out of the rubble. You didn’t know that these were the other Inquisitors who were sent to the scene.

As they conversed, their words faintly trailed in your head to the walls of your skull. You could only hear and listen, but you’re too weak to bob your head slightly to the side to look at them. Their words echoed as you stare into the charred ceiling of the stronghold.

“…Sure she’s alive? The… will have to… about…” the female voice echoed.

“Found her… utility lobby… Can’t find him…” the male replied.

“Alive too… from the fire…”

Their butchered conversation—at least in your own perspective—eventually blocked off as you slowly lose consciousness. The gurney hovers and then pushes forward, following the trail of the female and male Inquisitors—namely the Seventh Sister, a skinny Mirialan—and the Fifth Brother who’s a tall humanoid with gray skin.

They escort you, along with the Second Brother who barely escaped the fire but still managed to maintain a pulse, out of the site and into the transport waiting for them in the far southern side of the stronghold.

The Mirialan examined your comatose-like state. Past through the soot and grime smeared across your cheeks, the streak of dried blood from your forehead to your temples, the reddening of your face due to the extreme heat—she thought it’s actually a miracle that you even survived.

“You sure look though,” the Mirialan female commented.

“Let’s see if the Master is just as impressed as we are,” the Fifth Brother added.

-----

Cal, Larki, and Morzen arrived to the site. Unbeknownst to the boys, the Inquisitors have beat them to it in their endeavor. The fires have lessened in size, not as bad as the initial blast. Some areas of the stronghold were accessible and can be safely traversed. Cal hopped off of his speeder, followed by Larki and Morzen, and the boys hindered the reckless, eager ginger by calling out his name—stopping him in his tracks to give him his own set of protective gear: a breathing mask with a filter tube and a complementary pair of goggles.

“Ready?” Larki confirms the other two as they all donned the gear.

They enter the stronghold through a gaping hole created by the explosion. Prior to going any further, Cal divided the areas per person—taking into consideration your last known location, according to his radar, the path that you took in and apparently out. But since the building has been partially obliterated, the three boys had to think of another way in certain areas.

“Larki, see if you can find your way to the reactor chamber. Morzen, check if there are any other paths created by the blast for survivors to pass through,” Cal instructed. “I’ll head to the annex, or whatever’s left of it.”

The trio split, Cal had masterfully distributed the areas per man; Larki was a tad bit leaner and smaller—give that he’s the youngest among them—so it gives him an advantage to slip through gaps and crawlspaces, on the other hand, Morzen was heavily-built young man. Whether or not it was by coincidence or by pure observation, Cal had tact in dividing the party.

Cal trekked through the remains of the annex, the floor and a good portion of the walls remained intact—although charred and torn open by the impact of the bomb—and the heat from the nearby fires was enough to make him sweat. Fortunately for him, the mask protected his lungs from the dangerously-thick smoke.

“Mind your head, BD-1,” Cal warned.

Cal squeezed his way through the gap between a wall and a fallen metal ceiling beam leaning against it. He ducked and crawled, then landed on fours for a safe landing. He was feeling goof, albeit a little out of place to be so, because he’s hopeful that you’re still alive; rather, he convinced himself that you were, for he could still feel a trace of your presence even though it was gradually getting fainter by the minute.

“Bee-woo…” BD-1 suddenly hopped down from Cal’s shoulder and skittered towards the debris, flashing his light and peeking over small to see if you were in the other side.

There was nothing much Cal could find, so he decided to further investigate in another spot. He navigated the ruins, he followed his instincts to go to the reactor chamber where Larki ought to be; as he ran along the way, his comm rang.

“Cal, do you copy? It’s Larki,”

“I copy, Larki. Did you find anything?”

Cal detected the hesitation in Larki’s voice. He demanded Larki to respond.

“I’m gonna send you my coordinates, meet me there,”

“Where are you right now?”

“I don’t know. Some kind of utility lobby. Just come through, I’ve already radioed Morzen. He’s on his way too,”

Cal had a bad feeling about this. BD-1 received Larki’s coordinates after popping out his little satellite dish, promptly, he flashed the holomap in front of Cal. The young Jedi’s eyes trailed from his current location to a portion of the map colored in yellow, there was a significant, vertical gap between him and his destination—he would have to find a way down.

“Not too far away,” he mumbled under his breath.

Without a moment’s hesitation he sprinted through the corridor, navigating through the ruins to find the quickest way down. At the end of the corridor, the edge of it had been bombed off and torn apart, but Cal looked around to see if he can use anything to his advantage. Hanging on another set of beams over his head is a cable coiled around it, he pulled it out using the Force and rappelled down.

He checked the map again and saw that the distance had shrunk. He struggled to remain optimistic, he could still feel your trace, but it’s becoming nothing more than a wafting swirl of smoke. Cal and Morzen arrived nearly at the same time, but the latter came from the eastern side and circled his way to Larki’s meeting point.

“Look at this place,” Larki gasped in full disbelief of the sheer damage that their bombs have wrought. He gestured at his surroundings with open arms.

The three of them investigated the entire area. Morzen climbed a mountain of rock and metal only to find the chunky remains of the structure. Had there been more bombs planted here, then this structure wouldn’t last for a search party to even go through—that’s what the young man thought. Larki, on the other hand, surveyed the fallen columns that once were the great energy reactors; he dared to step closer to the banister and peek over it, he saw the ground level of the chamber—he couldn’t see anything that would resemble life.

“Looks like we’re not finding anything down there,” Larki commented.

“I sense something, though I can’t explain it,” Cal said to no one in particular.

“You think [Y/N] could still be here?”

“Like I said, Larki, it’s difficult to explain. It’s like… she’s here but she’s not… I know I felt her…”

As Cal continued to ponder and muse about your faint trail that he’s picked up ever since he got here, Morzen continued to search in the rubble; nothing caught his eye—save for a single bracelet lying around. The silvery finish had been dirtied by the grime, the cord had been charred in the middle for it to tear—leaving the torn ends of it as black as coal, contrast to its original beige.

Morzen couldn’t make of the bracelet, but he still considered it a clue.

“Look,” he uttered, catching the two’s attention. He nestled the bracelet gently on the flat of his palm as he approached the two standing by the banister that overlooks the pillars.

Cal almost didn’t want to see what was in Morzen’s hand, because a part of him already knew what it was—he just didn’t make peace with it yet—and when the boy’s hand angled to show the trinket resting on his palm, Cal’s eyes widened.

“Oh Cal… Isn’t that…?” Larki sighed, he felt his heart sink when the only clean spot of the silver pendant shone against the firelight.

He hovered his hand towards the bracelet, Morzen patiently waited for Cal to take it—what neither of these two boys understand is Cal’s Psychometry: if he touches that bracelet of yours, he will never be ready to accept what he will see, hear, and feel.

“Beee…” BD cooed sadly, worried of Cal’s anxiety.

Cal sucked it in, then snatched the bracelet off of Morzen’s hand—a tad bit harshly rather—and the wave of the Force Echo was overwhelming, coming from a tiny trinket such as this.

The blazing inferno roared in his eardrums, he could almost feel the searing heat burning through his sleeves. The sounds of your labored breathing as you struggled to haul yourself out of harm’s way—while being severely injured at that—matched with Cal’s breathing, his body has mimicked the exhaustion taking its toll on your body. His ankles buckled and then failed, he submits to the floor while trapping your bracelet in his fist—this reaction startled Larki and Morzen, they took a step closer but stopped by Cal himself as he continues to absorb the Force Echo—and the last thing he saw was the debris falling over you as the fire caught on. He saw the last few images in your eyes—he felt you lying flat on your back as the rubble shrouded your vision in pure darkness and the bracelet slipping off of your hand.

The singular twanging of the silver pendant against the metal floor was the stimulus that snapped Cal back to reality. The exact same trace of you that he’s been desperately holding on had suddenly disappeared. When he opened his eyes, he saw Larki and Morzen gawking at him, both confused and expecting an answer from the Jedi.

“Cal…?” Morzen softly murmured, sensing the overwhelming stress within his companion.

Cal’s next action further confused the two: he frantically searched the utility lobby, past Larki and Morzen’s shoulders, and took big breaths in a rapid pace that his breathing mask fogged in between sobs. The embers twinkled red against the tears appearing along the rim of his eyes.

“No, she… SHE WAS ALIVE!! I FELT IT!” Cal growled ferociously.

He stared back at the little bracelet resting on his tremoring hand, the tears that had been welling up in his eyes while being stuck in his Psychometry trance eventually wetted the bracelet and his open palm. They continuously fell like rain. He couldn’t believe it. He refused to.

The final thing this structure heard was the roaring “No” of the Jedi ultimately destroyed by his discovery—echoing across its burnt walls, the wind that caught it flew over the fires and disturbed its flares.

#cal kestis #cal kestis fic #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis x reader fic #force-sensitive! reader #inquisitor! reader #jedi! reader #fake death #jedi turned inquisitor #seduction to the dark side #turn to the dark side #the dark side of the force #aftermath of torture #torture #psychological torture #redemption arc! reader #possible redemption #premonitions #anon #anon ask #anon prompt #anon request #fic #angst #angst fic #fic request #star wars #star wars jedi fallen order #jedi fallen order #swjfo

[castielsangel-blade]

So it's taken me a bit of time to get my thoughts in order on the finale and, of course, I did not like it. In fact, it left me with more questions than answers and not in good way that stories sometimes do. This was just... not good.

Below, I'm going to list some reasons why I didn't enjoy it. But, as an aside, if you did like it, then I'm glad! I'm happy you're not hurting about it!

So, the episode starts off kinda, y'know, happy-ish. It's a little uneasy because we have no idea where it's going, or what they're gonna do. Sam's on his run, Dean's waking up, and Miracle jumps on his bed. It's nice. But they only show the brothers, which leads me to my first reason.

1. Eileen isn't there. In fact, no one is.

Eileen was Sam's established love interest, so, surely, we should see her or at least hear her mentioned considering she got dusted off-screen in the previous episode. And Sam's a very caring person, he would definitely go check up on her but we got nothing. No mentioned in passing, no picture in his room, no glance at his phone screen to see a message from her. Just... nothing.

After they're all ready for their day, Sam sits across Dean and Miracle in the library and asks if he found anything. It turns out to be a pie festival or some shit and that shows us that Dean wasn't even looking for a hunt. He was just surfing the 'net while he petted Miracle (I love that damn dog) affectionately. So, they go to the pie thingy and this next part, Dean got a lot of crap for but I honestly get it.

When Sam said he thought about and missed Jack and Cas and Dean replied with that he did too, but then "brushed it off", I honestly think that was on par with his character. Dean this past season (and all seasons, but especially this one) had really grown. He would talk about things bothering him to an extent. In my opinion, mostly to Cas. Sure, he'd eventually tell Sam but usually after some huge fight but it just came naturally with Cas. And it's because it's just easier to talk to your friends and let them see you in a "weak" moment than with your family—especially when said family is someone you've protected for a majority of your life. I think that was definitely in character (although my headcanon is that Dean cries late at night when it's just him and only Miracle is there to comfort him).

So next, a case just falls into their lap and they soon discover that it's a hunt John never completed. And here's my next reason.

2. John was said to be one of the best hunters, but he didn't know that was a vamp nest.

Look, it just doesn't make any sense. Sure, they wore masks and did some other weird shit to throw hunters off the trail, but the most prominent sign points to vampires! Sam got it in one, so, really, what the hell?

So they go and find the nest pretty easily and it's a simple MOTW ep. And the boys have fought some major Big Bad's in their day, so run-of-the-mills vamps should be pretty easy, right? Apparently not, which leads me into my third reason.

3. The actual vampire didn't even kill Dean their usual way. Didn't turn him, didn't rip out the throat or anything like that. In fact, the vampire simply got lucky.

Sure, you could argue that their plot armor was gone, but that's not fair. The Winchester Brothers are amazing hunters and they do know how to actually fight. That wasn't Chuck, at least, not all of it. The vampire did just get lucky and that's the devastating part. Dean didn't go out in some huge, end of the world battle. He went out with a stab to the back (one could argue that that's the network stabbing his character in the back and I'd honestly agree). Dean died terrified. Which leads me into my next reason and also an opinion that I haven't seen anyone else share.

4. Sam could've healed him or gotten him help.

I don't knock Sam for this. Dean was genuinely frightened. But this brings me to my opinion. So, Dean, as we all know, has spent his entire life thinking he's not good enough, that he's meant to die bloody, he's just a soldier, a grunt, that he doesn't matter, not the way Sam does. I feel like Dean was aware that Sam could've helped him pretty quickly considering the fact that Sam was a witch trained under Rowena, and he chose to let himself die at that moment. He figured this was the way he was always gonna go and since he doesn't have to worry about another big bad coming onto the board, I think he felt that it was time to stop cheating Death—it always ended messy. Sure, I do truly think he wanted to live his life (more on that later), but I think in this moment, he actually wanted to die. He'd lost Cas, and Jack was in the wind and dust and rain and whatever the fuck else. All he had was his brother and Miracle and Sam could take care of himself now along with Miracle. In that moment, that's all he could think about.

5. No one else attended Dean's funeral.

Maybe Sam didn't tell anyone so he could just mourn alone, but there's no way, had anyone else known, that they would let Sam be alone after losing the only biological family member he had left. That just doesn't make any sense. It certainly wouldn't have gone over well with Jody and Donna; they'd at least show support for Sam. But Claire, Alex, Patience, Krissy even???? Garth, Bess, and the kids??? Or every hunter in the US of A seeing as, despite causing a lot of the bad shit in the show, they did clean everything up and saved/helped a lot of people. Out of respect, surely they'd show up.

6. From the official looking document sitting on Dean's desk that we see as Sam's mourning, Dean was looking into a job.

This is important because it means that he was getting ready to retire (also why he wasn't looking for any hunts). He wanted to live his life for Cas and everyone they lost, so their sacrifices weren't in vain (and he died anyways, jesus christ).

So after that brief time alone, Sam packs up everything and Miracle and they leave the bunker. This next reason is kinda stupid, but it really did hit me hard.

7. No one knows all that history is down there. And if they do, no one can get to it.

Sam had to have locked it up so all that knowledge didn't fall into the wrong hands. You could argue that he told his son about it, seeing as his son does have an anti-posession tattoo, but we don't know. All we know is what we were shown, which is Sam had a son named Dean and he played catch with him, helped him with his homework, told him something about the supernatural (hence the tattoo) and that's it. We get nothing else.

8. Sam spends the rest of his life with a blurry, unimportant wife (see family photos in which she's featured in absolutely none of them), and mourning the death of the brother, one of his close friends, and his son.

Now people can argue that Sam wasn't a father figure to Jack (or more like an uncle), but he definitely was. Cas, Dean, and Sam were all parental figures to Jack, that's the story. That aside, Sam had this air of sadness around him because we weren't given much else with Kansas' Carry On Wayward Son playing, so we don't know if he ever truly healed even a little. It honestly looks like he didn't. Like, at all.

9. Cas is apparently alive, but he didn't go meet the brothers or meet Dean in Heaven which is OOC as fuck

We're all assuming that the time skip in between ep 19 and 20 is a week, right? Because they stay pretty even with the flow so it's not so confusing. And it was about two weeks since Cas died in 18th episode and a week since Jack became the new god. Dean got there and it was already all reconstructed, so it must not have taken that long, so why didn't Cas, who considered the brothers his family, not go see them back on Earth? Maybe there were terms and he had to stay with Jack to mentor him or something but we don't know. They give us absolutely nothing to go on. And even if he couldn't leave Heaven or something, he must've known that Dean was there, so why didn't he meet him in there. He could have but we don't know. They just said fuck it all and ended the episode before we really got any damn answers.

10. Why did two different versions of Carry On Wayward Son play back to back?

It didn't seem to really go with the flow of anything and it was honestly kinda weird. Seriously. I get that the original was a peppier and that when we see Dean driving and Sam growing older. And it switches to the slower version as Sam is on his premature deathbed and then it stops when the brothers reunite. It was just... odd. All I could focus on was that during the ending.

11. Bobby must've sat there for like 5 seconds if Dean just drove down the road and Sam was already dead.

This one is also not a big deal but I thought it just didn't make sense. Time goes differently. And it wasn't even that long that Dean was in Heaven and Sam was already there. So, like, Bobby must've just gotten a beer and sat down when Dean turned up and he was like "shit, boy. Don't you know how to quit dyin'?!" because, honestly, I would have.

This are all of my big reasons right off the bat. There are more deeper reasons, but this is it for now. I really hope any of this made sense. But, like I said before I started this list, if you liked it, cool! I'm not in the business of telling people how they should feel about certain things. I just wanted to share some reasons why I didn't like it.

#supernatural #spn #15x20 #15x20 thoughts #dean #Sam #Eileen #Castiel

[finnverbose]

I’m starting to accept that I probably am autistic.

The biggest test for me was in 3 parts:

Part 1) Determine whether things actually made me uncomfortable or confused, and I just felt like I had no choice but to deal with it, or if I was truly fine with these things (i.e. specific sensory things, specific social nuances, breaks in routine, etc.)

I found many things did make me uncomfortable.

Part 2) Determine whether or not I was using coping strategies to deal with that discomfort and confusion, especially to avoid social consequences, aka am I masking?

I found that a harder question but in certain ways, I was.

Part 3) Try out a situation where the social consequences are low and attempt to not mask.

This turned out to be very difficult and very easy, once I started. When I’m home, I don’t really feel like I’m masking generally because I’m alone or with my husband who doesn’t care in the slightest how I behave. When I work, the social consequences are far too high working customer service, so I cannot let go of any part of my shiny facade.

So the situation that worked best ended up being going to church yesterday. Our church is super accepting and supportive, goes out of their way to be inclusive of lgbtq and neurodivergent and poc and are politically and socially involved in the community to support oppressed peoples. So I knew that if I read as more neurodivergent, at worst I might get a glance or two, but I would still be welcome to participate.

So I did participate in the way that felt best for me. I didn’t stand up when we were supposed to unless it felt like I should. I didn’t participate in the verbal call and response our church does nor in hymns. I didn’t worry about looking where I was supposed to the whole time and making sure I looked attentive and proper. I sat on the pew and listened and played with the chain on my necklace and rocked occasionally and wore earplugs.

And it felt so fucking freeing. Far, far more than I thought it would. The only time during the entire service I felt anxious was trying to decide where we should sit at the beginning and the passing of the peace ritual, which I still felt pressure to participate in. This would not have been the case normally, I usually feel high pressure at church knowing there’s a very well known script that I am not as privy to because I didn’t grow up with it my whole life.

As far as I’m concerned, that test was the biggest indicator I could have that I’m probably on the autism spectrum. I am still seeking diagnosis if I can because I think that’s the right step for me, but I am approximately 90% sure now.

#personal #church #religion #possibly autistic #probably autistic #stimming #masking

[professoruber]

Epithet Erased Role Swap AU FanFic: A swapped place in Sweet Jazz City Prologue

Hi, This is just a quick Fanfiction I've written up based on the amazing Role Swap AU made by @spliinkles. I actually did have a somewhat similar idea before (which was what if some epithet related event caused characters to switch ages) but I really love the ideas of this AU and wanted to write about it.

Sorry first of all if there are any errors. I wrote this up kind of quickly and if I do find errors I will be willing to fix them if  I get around to it.

Am posting this fanfiction here because the Epithet Erased fandom seems biggest on Tumblr and also that's where this AU is from.

Prologue: You're reading it

Chapter 1: https://professoruber.tumblr.com/post/189841325568/a-swapped-place-in-sweet-jazz-city-chapter-1

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

Giovanni Potage was what some might call a variety of unflattering yet undeniably accurate descriptors. Such things included ‘problem child’ and ‘wannabe delinquent’, both titles he wore with pride.

With the exception of the ‘wannabe’ part of course, if you were to ask him, he would insist he was the most feared delinquent in his school’s history and most definitely not an adorable little soup child.

His reign of delinquency was joined by his friends, his ‘boys’ as he called them. Two of these aforementioned boys were now accompanying him on the most boring field trip ever.

“-and that’s when I smash that ball right into the principle’s office, and everyone cheered” Giovanni finishes accounting his latest most definitely truthful anecdote about his misadventures as a dangerous criminal delinquent.  His squeaky twelve-year-old vocal cords pushed to their deepest potential level in order to attempt to put on a wave of coolness on top of what he considers his amazing storytelling ability.

 “WOW GIOVANNI. YOU’RE SO AMAZING! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH” Screams one of his friends, known most often as Crusher for rather self-explanatory reasons. The high volume of his sudden outburst eliciting a glare from one of the museum guides who were currently giving a tour to their class.

The young guide turns away from the crowd of youths briefly to pop another pain pill before taking a deep breath and snapping back towards the kids with a forced smile.

“As I was saying before I was… interrupted…” she began, briefly pausing to once again glare at Crusher, who blessed with embarrassment and hid behind the protection of Giovanni as she continues “Epithets are rare and amazing powers gifted to just a one in five of the population. Wow, so cool. Anyway, moving on…” she begins to keep walking before being lightly nudged by her older bearded co-guide.

“Come now my apprentice Mera. It is important to show enthusiasm for this thing. It’s important to always do your best in every situation” the man says the last sentence with such sheer power that he flexes for emphasis, prompting a array of awed stares bystanders at his muscular build.

Mera even admires it for a moment before turning back to the children and sighing “You’re right Indus… I’ll try to spice up the tour a bit” she gives a somewhat more genuine smile this time, as Indus pats her on the back.

“Now that’s the spirit! Why don’t we tell them about the Arsene Amulet, that will certainly spice things up” Indus suggests with large genuine smile aimed at his young apprentice.

Mera goes wide eyed at the mention of the amulet before whispering to Indus “Uh… Indus I’m not sure if telling these kids about the amulet is a good idea”

Indus looks thoughtful but nevertheless was still in proud teacher mode “Do not worry apprentice Mera. No harm should come from granting these children some of the wonder of this museum”

Mera eventually relents and soon launches into a somewhat less half-hearted explanation of the amulet as well as other cool and interesting exhibits, Indus sometimes dropping in to suggest topics, such as the Dinosaur exhibition which he insists is amazing.

However, these were quickly drowned out Giovanni’s criminal mind as it’s focus settled firmly on the fact a mysterious cool amulet was hidden within these halls. An awesomely evil formed from the dark confines of his self-proclaimed delinquent mind.

“Car Crash, Crusher, come with me” he whispers in his best covert voice before snatching his pair of friends away from the tour. The former blushed at the close contact to his crush while the latter looked annoyed.

“Hey, my name’s Fred. All I did was crash Ben’s go-kart five times and now everyone just won’t let it go!” He complains and throws up his hands in annoyance.

“Shush, will you? Whatever. I have an awesome plan to show the whole entire world my awesome criminal skills so no one will deny that Giovanni Potage is the most awesome supervillain of all time!” He exclaims quietly with clenched fist.

Crusher loved every moment of It and even ‘Fred’ was captivated by the intensity if nothing else.  

“I will sneak inside the museum; spray paint my name on the exhibits. And then for the finale I will steal that amulet thingy and leave a pool of boiling lava and… uh… acid! In its place. These history nerds will never no one hit them” he gives a smug smile, proud of himself for having come up with such a villainous plan.

Crusher fell to the floor as he clenches his heart, overwhelmed by the sheer continued amazingness of Giovanni. Fred meanwhile was somewhat confused on What Giovanni’s plan was.

“So, you want to get an amulet which steals Epithets?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

Giovanni looks confused for a moment before putting two and two together “oh is that what that thing does? Nah that’s totally lame. What I want is the street cred. If I pull this off then all the greatest criminal gangs will be begging to have me join them. Maybe I might be able to join the Bushido Blasters… or even the Banzai Blasters!” He exclaims with enthusiasm.

As Crusher continued to be amazed, Fred scratched the back of his head “I don’t know man, this seems kind of dangerous even compared to what we usually get up to. And me and ‘Crusher’ can’t be out after dark, so you’ll be alone for this”

Crusher cries manly boy tears at the thought of having to abandon Giovanni. But Giovanni simply dramatically holds his hand to his chest and begins to reassure them.

“Don’t worry my boys! I have the greatest- hey what’s that over there!” He suddenly shouts pointing to the left, and grinning as Crusher and Fred look to in that direction. While his friends are distracting, Giovanni quickly dashes behind them and yells “Teleports behind!”, startling both boys.

“As you can see my stealth skills and unmatched. And after tonight no one will able to deny the supervillainy of Giovanni Potage!”

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

Across the city in the backroom of a family owned toy store sat a young barely adult woman wearing a dark green dress and a yellow apron and boots, her dark brown hair tied up to prevent it getting in her face.

The woman was working stoically on toys which would be sold in the Blyndeff Toy Emporium, her family’s store.

“Police are still baffled at the recent theft of expensive several statues from a local art gallery, all of which were replaced by teddy bears. Despite the absurdity of this case police have still found no leads on the criminals responsible, although reports suggest Banzai Blasters may have been involved- “ the noise drowns out in the woman’s mind as her lips slip into an evil grin as she recalls the recent caper which led to her promotion from Blaster to Captain in the Banzai ranks.

In the monotonous world of manufacturing and retail she was glad to have an outlet to cut loose when she could, keeping up appearances in front of customers and not hitting the many who deserved it was tiring, and she’s been doing this for around a decade at this point.

Taking a deep breath, she got back to work, turning off the news livestream playing on her phone just had it had begun talking about how a Detective Ashling had been assigned to the case. She had bigger things to concern herself with right now.

Namely that of her first heist as a Banzai Captain. Her crew of minions were ready and a location had been mapped out. Now all she needed to do was complete the final workings of her special criminal helper toys, as well as the toys which need to be sold.

“Molly! Mum wants to know if the new toys are ready yet!” The bratty voice of the woman’s little sister comes through the door of the workshop as the young girl in question walks into take a look herself.

Molly feels like grimacing but instead effortlessly donned a smile as hollow as her soul.

“Almost done Lorelai. Tell mum I’ll have these out on the shelves soon” she said with a mask of cheerfulness, to which Lorelai simply rolled her eyes at and gave a quick “Whatever” before leaving back to the rest of the building, shutting the door behind her.

Molly got back to work, only stopping at one point to take out a small picture of the Sweet Jazz Museum, causing her to gain a much more genuine, and evil smile “tonight” she simply says, as she returns to work.

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

Later in the dead of night, Giovanni’s head raises up above from a bin. He leaps out and whisper shouts “Teleports inside!” to himself as he looks around.

He proceeds to run carelessly around the now empty halls of the museum, slipping and knocking some stuff over a few times before arriving in the entrance.

“Uh hu! This shall be a great place to begin the reign of terror of Giovanni Potage” the twelve year out super-criminal announces as he walks up to the desk.

“I should call my boys, to let them know I got it, not that they would be surprised of course” He picks up the phone and dials Car Crash’s number, only for it to fail to go through. Confused, Giovanni looks at the phone only to find an explanation of its true nature.

“Internal and emergency calls only? Pfft, lame” he comments as he slams down the receiver. He then proceeds to duck down under the desk and take out some items from his bag. First a whoopy cushion which he fashions to the chair and then a canister of spray paint.

He begins spray painting a message about how lame their phone system is. Meanwhile as the young delinquent writes, a hole in the roof is silently made and a group of Banzai Blaster begin slowly coming in from above, going unheard from anyone who might be within earshot thanks to their leader’s Epithet.

The last to go down is their new Captain, Bear Trap, who under the silence of her Epithet begins handing out instructions to her minions.

“There all done” Giovanni says proudly as he finishes his villainous vandalism, popping back up from behind the desk her suddenly comes eye to eye with Bear Trap.

All parties present simply fall back, startled due to not expecting to encounter anyone else. For a few moments silence reigns even without the assistance of Bear Trap’s Epithet.

The silence isn’t broken until the shock face of Giovanni suddenly shifts into one of wonder and excitement.

“Wow criminals! Awesome!”

#epithet erased #role swap au #spliiinkles #molly blyndeff #giovanni potage #car crash #crusher #fanfiction #slyvester ashling #lorelai blyndeff #mera salamin #indus tarbella

[theredscreech]

Grammar Tips That Are Actually Useful #2

So I honestly didn’t expect to do another one of these, but ever since my first GTTAAU post got a whole bunch of hits over the last few days, I decided to do another one about a popular piece of grammar that I notice is often misused.

Writers, gather ‘round as we explore the dreadful and terrible aspect of writing that is the...

Epithet.

Dun, dun, duuuuuuuun!

I first want to preface this by saying that I was notorious for this. I am so sorry to everyone who read my TMNT fics from 2016; I didn’t know better and I apologise profusely!! I went entire pages without naming a character in the narrative and I have no one to blame but my own ignorance, which has now been remedied - Hallelujah!

To explain: An epithet has a few definitions, so let’s take a look at them. (Definitions courtesy of dictionary.com.)

1. Any word or phrase applied to a person or thing to describe an actual or attributed quality: “Richard the Lion-Hearted” is an epithet of Richard I.

2. A characterizing word or phrase firmly associated with a person or thing and often used in place of an actual name, title, or the like, as “man's best friend” for “dog.”

3. A word, phrase, or expression used invectively as a term of abuse or contempt, to express hostility, etc.

In other words, an epithet is an adjective or noun to describe or name someone without using their proper name.

(There’s a ton more under the Keep Reading, so buckle up.)

Epithets are used in a variety of ways to describe a variety of any character’s characteristics (haha). Most common examples for this are:

hair - the blond, the blonde, the black-haired person, etc.

eye-colour - the green-eyed person, the brown-eyed person, etc.

skin-colour - the pale-skinned person, the dark-skinned person, etc. (Side note: NEVER use food to describe skin colour/tone (eg. olive-skinned). It is offensive and wrong, so just don’t. If you have any questions, I’d encourage you to follow @writingwithcolor (which I do). They have excellent commentary for writers who write characters of varying ethnicities, religions, etc. Check out their FAQ before asking anything, though, because they’ve answered a ton of different questions already.)

status - the child, the teen, my boyfriend, his husband, etc.

profession - the engineer, the doctor, the ninja, etc.

species - the dwarf, the human, the dragon, etc.

or any combination - the green-haired teen (I saw this one in a fic from Izuku’s own POV), the orange-masked turtle (this one is mine and also from Mikey’s POV, and I am sooooo sorry.), etc.

There are, of course, dozens more of examples, but these are the most common ones, especially in fanfiction, so let’s leave it at that.

So why do writers use epithets so often?

Honestly, it becomes tedious and repetitive to write out the characters’ names all the time. It looks odd, too, all those ‘Mikeys’ and ‘Izukus’ and ‘Natasha Romanovas’ and what-nots. They’re just prancy-dancing all over your page and it looks. so. off. There’s just something about seeing characters’ names that, for whatever reason, some writers don’t like. And I kid you not, I had to train myself out of this way of thinking.

I had to train myself because as soon as I learned about epithets, I saw that I was using them absolutely everywhere. I would write literal pages without using anyone’s name, and four years later, I look back at those stories I wrote and posted publicly, and I cringe. But it’s the good kind of cringing because it lets me know how far I’ve come in my writing craft, that even though I’ve been writing for years and years, there’s always something new to learn. There’s always something to improve upon.

“Good for you, Red, but why are epithets so bad?”

Well, technically they’re not bad. They’re just used poorly or overused or both (as was my case).

We’ve already talked a bit about over usage (unless you missed the parts where I confessed to writing pages without using names), so let’s talk about poor usage.

Poor usage of epithets is when epithets are used incorrectly.

Here’s an example: Mikey looked at his red-masked brother.

Gah, that physically pained me to write! Okay, so what’s wrong with this sentence? Well, unless we’re writing for Mirage Studios’ comic (1984) where all four turtles of the TMNT wore red masks, then we’ve got a pretty good idea that ‘red-masked brother’ actually means ‘Raphael’.

Okay, great, so we know ‘red-masked brother’ is Raph, so why is this an example of poor epithet usage?

Answer: Because we already know Raph has a red mask. It is set. It is eternal. It’s a part of who he is, just like his skin or his shell. If you are at all familiar with this character, you will know that Raph is the ‘red-masked turtle’.

Here’s the thing epithets do. Epithets estrange characters from each other. This is why they’re most commonly and properly used for characters whom either we as the audience/narrator or the characters themselves do not know.

This is why phrases like ‘the dark-clad figure’ or ‘the blonde cashier’ are so popular - because we do not know who the people are! Sure, we can always go up to the dark-clad figure and introduce ourselves, or we can look at the blonde cashier’s name tag, and that’s sort of the point because we do not know who these people are yet. Epithets are used, more often than not, for unknowns until they are made known.

There are exceptions to this, of course, of course, most commonly of which are status ones: my husband, his son, their niece, etc.

These are fine, but use them wisely and sparingly (tying into the over usage part again).

Here’s a better example: I walked into the kitchen and found my husband already there and making breakfast for all three children.

‘My husband’ and ‘all three children’ are epithets, but they don’t estrange the characters, per se, because they’re letting us know who’s who and their importance to the narrator/character. That being said, you should still use ‘my husband’ sparingly because if you’re ‘my husband’-ing your husband, whose name is Henry, all over kingdom come, it begins to sound...not good. Like, why would you need to remind yourself Henry is your husband all the time? Do you have amnesia? Are you just forgetful? Are you insecure? Maybe he was unfaithful at some point and he’s doing better, but you’re internalising that and reinforcing the fact that he’s yours? Maybe you just don’t like his name? Or don’t know his name?

Hard to say.

The fact of the matter is this: the closer the characters are in terms of their relationship (platonic, romantic, as friends, as siblings, whatever), the less they will use epithets for each other.

For example: I, personally, have never thought of my mother as ‘the brown-haired woman’. She has always been mom or mum or other such derivatives. It never crosses my mind.

Contrarily, when I’m working at the book store and I’ve taken a few things up to the cash desk for a customer, I’ll let the cashier know that the items are for ‘the curly-haired woman with sunglasses’. Because she is a stranger to me.

Consider Disney’s film Lady and the Tramp (1955). I haven’t seen the live action, so I can’t make a comparison, but the 1955 version fits for what I want to talk about here.

Please name Lady’s owners.

If you said, ‘Jim Dear’ and ‘Darling’, you would be absolutely correct! While we can safely assume that ‘Jim Dear’ is actually ‘Jim’ or even ‘James’, we have no idea of Darling’s real name. Some pet names and nicknames are technically epithets if we’re being especially pedantic today (please see Disney’s Tangled’s character Flynn Ryder’s nickname for Rapunzel), but let’s say for the sake of argument that all pet names fall into the category of proper names, particularly since we’re talking about Lady and the Tramp (1955).

If you listen closely, you will notice that not once - not a single time, ever - do any of the characters that know Jim Dear and Darling call them by anything else (except for Jim Dear’s men friends at the baby shower; they all call him ‘Jim’). Even Darling’s friends call her ‘Darling’. Jock and Trusty both call Lady’s owners/masters ‘Jim Dear’ and ‘Darling’. Never ‘Lady’s owners’ or whatever else.

This is a perfect example of using names instead of epithets. It helps immensely that they aren’t main characters - secondary characters, certainly, but not main - but the point remains.

“But, Red, the Tramp never calls Lady by her name!”

And you’re right! But there’s a reason for that: Lady never formally introduced herself. The story begins in December of 1909 (thank you, Wikipedia). So by the time Lady is six months old, we’re well into 1910. Conventions in this era, as far as I know, not that I am an expert, dictate that ladies/women introduce themselves so that men could then address them (or something like that? Someone please correct me if I’m wrong). Since Lady never does that, Tramp is reduced to giving her the pet name ‘Pigeon’ or ‘Pige (Pidge?)’. Also, Lady doesn’t find out Tramp’s name until the dogs at the pound tell her.

Either way, Tramp is forced to use a pet name, but it is not an epithet simply because ‘Pigeon’ isn’t describing Lady’s characteristics.

Now, Tramp on the other hand...is a characteristic, and someone can definitely win the argument of whether this is an epithet or not. Hint: it is because it’s preceded by ‘the’. He is literally introduced as ‘the Tramp’ (Bull, the bulldog, says it first in a scene with him, Peg and the Tramp, and then Toughy drops it at the pound in front of Lady). This is his epithet, his defining characteristic, because he is introduced as it: The Tramp.

But this is not his only characteristic. He’s helpful and compassionate (the entire scene when he fights off three alley dogs chasing Lady and then proceeds to help her get the muzzle off), he’s also playful (shows Lady there’s more to life than “life on a leash”), courageous (he fights a rat), and respectful of Lady’s choices (tries to persuade her to run away with him but pursues the matter no further when she tells him ‘no’, and he also backs off when she’s mad at him).

This is what epithets do. Not only do they estrange the characters, but they also reduce the characters to a base level. Those well-rounded, complex babies you so carefully crafted become one-dimensional and flat in the span of a single phrase. They become ‘black-haired men’ and ‘green-eyed teens’ and ‘red-masked brothers’ and in that moment, that is all they are and when you continue to reinforce that, that is all the readers will see them as. Besides the fact that readers might very well forget their names entirely, especially if it’s an original work where the audience is not as familiar with the characters as they would be with fanfiction.

This is why Lady never addresses Tramp directly in the film. If she’s speaking to him, she’s looking at him so he knows she’s addressing him. It’s a subtle nuance in the film because Lady refuses to reduce Tramp to his epithet (once she learns it) because he isn’t that basic. (Another reason why Lady and the Tramp II: Scamp’s Adventure bugs me because I swear she actually calls him ‘Tramp’ and it feels so wrong for her to address him like that.) But Tramp gives Lady a nickname. See the difference?

So, yes. While epithets are not strictly bad, they are best when used properly and sparingly. Like, yes, please, feel free to remind us that Mikey loves his brothers and that Katsuki calls his friends ‘Spiky-hair’ or whatever. These are descriptive and good and should be used, just be aware of when and how often you use them, not to mention why. If you’re simply using an epithet for the sake of avoiding saying someone’s name, then it’s poor usage.

And holy freaking wow, this thing is ginormous! I’m going to stop here because I don’t think I can write another word about epithets and how important they are.

Thank you for reading! I hope this helps. And a reminder: check out RavenshellRorschach on DeviantArt for comprehensive how-to’s on some of English’s toughest homophones and grammar points.

Cheers, y’all!

~ Red

#writing advice #grammar #gttaau #this might become a series #epithets

[masked-buffoon]

Chapter 13: Filled emptiness (Part 1)

Warnings: mentions of human trafficking

Author notes: Hey everyone! I’l back with a new chapter...! I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as the previous ones!

Paperwork.

When I had entered the Armed Detective Agency, I had not expected that the major part of my work would consist in doing the paperwork. Arresting a criminal and solving mysteries was the core of our job as detectives, but filling the numerous documents demanded by the police or the court took a lot more time than running after the culprit. Obviously, back in the Port Mafia, I used to deal with paperwork as well, but it was not as prominent as it was in the Agency. It was… Exhausting, not to mention a certain person had never stopped slacking off. Becoming a detective had not changed Dazai's hate for work, most unfortunately for Kunikida, and even for me, whom he regularly used to take care of his documents. Even so, I was getting accustomed to my new life.

It had already been five month since I had officially become a detective, and I had, at last, successfully become a legal adult by reaching twenty-one years old. My ability was not too much of a bother anymore, since I could finally control it by myself, and getting to sleep on my own brought me more satisfaction than what I could have imagined. I had, at last, tamed the wild beat running around my mind. It was a victory I savoured everyday upon waking up, well-rested. Slowly, the bags under my eyes had faded away and my health had improved… If only the problem of my addiction had been solved as well. I would soon start my therapy, an attempt to separate myself from my dear morphine. I would be treated by Yosano-sensei, who had promised me a present as a way to encourage me. I still had a lot to work on to begin a normal life, but I was accompanied by the detectives of the Agency, whom I had started befriending.

"Hands up! Don't make a move — wait! Come here!"

I laughed. Kunikida had let the criminal run away…

"Don't mock me, Ogawa…! How could I predict he would climb up the wall behind him…?!"

"He is a skilled thief, after all. Remember when he stole that valuable painting exposed in the Art Museum?" I chucked.

"Whatever… Just stop him…!"

"I know, I know… It's all according to plan, though…~"

Our target was running towards my position, just as Dazai had predicted. For once, he had been willing to help us out with the case; that thief had been stealing in Yokohama for a month, at least. It had started with a rich wife's missing necklace. The police had given up, for there had not been any sign of break-in in the mansion. However, persuaded that it was impossible for her to lose her expensive diamond jewel, she had submitted a request to the Armed Detective Agency. At the moment, we had been so caught up with other demands from the government — protecting an important witness in a serial killer case was one of them — that we had overlooked the distressed woman's plea. However, just a week later, the Art Museum had also signalled a robbery during an important exhibition. A partnered museum in Europe had lent them a part of their collection, which included dozens of impressionism paintings. One of them was particularly precious and had required the installation of an advanced security system. The entire room had been protected by lasers and, as I had seen it, it was almost impossible for one to even male a step towards the painting. Almost. For an experienced thief who possessed the required physical capacity, it was not unfeasible. Our culprit would then be a rather thin person, perhaps smaller than average and with enough dexterity to accomplish such a feat. From that point on, I had asked the Fox to look for the thieves currently in action in the underworld. We had questioned all of those who had suited the profile we had established, but none had been involved with the robbery. He did not work for the underworld despite targeting such valuable objects. I had then established a list of the thefts which had happened since the diamond necklace — which we had remembered afterwards — and had discovered about ten resembling disappearances of jewels or pieces of art. The strangest thing about the thief was the fact he acted individually, for himself. He did not seem to belong to a group, nor did he appear to look for someone. He was simply… Enjoying himself while earning his life.

Seeing how unsuccessful we were and how many articles in the newspaper had appeared about him, we had thought about asking Ranpo-san for help. However, he had refused, stating we knew enough to catch the culprit ourself. And, indeed, there was a way to get to him, so simple that we had not even considered it; the auctions. With the image of the stolen painting in mind, Kunikida and I had visited different underground auctions, each time questioning the staff about the painting and bringing painful memories back to my mind. I had brushed them off, albeit hardly, and had focused on the case, ignoring the cages covered by a veil in the back of the room. No matter which place we had visited, they were always there, silent, ominous. My coworker had asked me about them.

"Their content goes against your entire ideal notebook…" I had answered, darkly.

"... Are they perhaps…"

"Slaves…" I had hissed "Products for human trafficking…"

"Why don't we arrest the culprits, then…?"

"Entire organisations are involved… Even the Port Mafia makes business with that…"

He had then stopped questioning me about that matter, most certainly noticing it was a sensitive subject.

At last, we had found the auction which had sold the painting. They had told us that the man who had brought them the item wore a mask, so they were unable to help us out. A week if research had been wasted on a useless lead, and we had gone back to square one. And just as we had considered abandoning and giving up on catching him, Dazai had come towards us, with an amused smile on his lips and a plan to finally put the thief in jail. Obviously, Kunikida had yelled at him, outraged that he had let us lose so much time instead of helping us out earlier. I had calmed him down and had asked my friend to explain to us his strategy.

Which had led us to the present situation.

The moment our target approached me, who was acting like the most normal civilian, I tripped him, simply. He had, without a doubt, not expected me to be on his way, and the single second he had lost because of me was enough for us to arrest him. With my brightest smile, I crouched next to him and offered him a hand.

"My apologies mister… Are you unharmed…?"

"I…" He blinked, before shaking his head and taking the hand I was offering him "I'm fine, thanks."

"You look as though someone is running after you." I giggled.

"That's…" I saw his faint blush "Kind of…"

I snickered, discreetly.

"Well… I fear you'll have to stop there."

"What —"

I closed the handcuffs around his wrist. At the same time, Kunikida arrived towards us, panting, and barely managed to speak.

"You… Are…" He breathed out "Under arrest…"

The plan had been successful. We had simply lured him out with another work of art — an antique Chinese vase. It had almost been disappointing how easily he had been trapped by the simplest strategy Dazai had ever come up with since I had known him, unworthy of the time we had spent trying to find the thief. Even so, it was still satisfying to finally see him climb in a police car with a frustrated expression.

"At least, we can get some sleep…!" I exclaimed.

"Indeed… Getting to close my eyes after that week is my greatest pleasure…" He yawned "That's so unlike me…"

"Mmh… It doesn't sound like you at all…" I noted.

"Hey~ That was a success…!" Dazai reached us, cheerful.

"That's not thanks to you." Our colleague groaned "You didn't do a thing…!"

"I established the plan, and kept an eye on you~"

"Whatever…"

"Now, we aren't going to argue, are we?" I stopped them "What about going back and resting? What does your schedule say, Kunikida?"

"Nothing…"

"Then let's leave…?"

#bsd #bsd fanfic #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs oc #bsd oc #bsd dazai #bsd kunikida #Dazai Osamu #kunikida doppo

[fire2forge]

Looking back...

March 15th 2020. My ship said goodbye to to our last guests. We pulled into Miami, let everyone off and left to go drift out with all the other cruise ships. At the time we all thought that it would truly be a 30 day pause in operations, we know now how naïve that was.

I’ll admit for awhile it was nice. Crew had the run of the ship, bars were open earlier, we had very little work to do, late nights out having fun, all kinds of activities. We were all so confident that covid hadn’t made it to our ship, that we were all safe, and this was just gonna be a 30 day vacation. 

Cut to the 21st:

We come to find out later that this unannounced drill was our super-spreader event. Because no-one knew it was a drill, everyone that was in isolation came out (we thought the ship was on fire)...by the time it was announced it was a drill and those confined should not leave it was to late...

Cut to the 24th:

I go back to medical later in the day, and after testing negative for the flu, am given a mask and told I was not allowed to leave my cabin (I luckily did not have a room mate), unless it was to come back for daily temp checks.

I find out later on that unknown to most of us we had a lot of people that had quietly been put into isolation (in a crew of 2000+, it’s easy to not notice). This was also the day of our first major repatriation effort 700 crew (mainly cruise division) where slated to fly...only a few did. 

Cut to the 28th:

The first PCR tests are done onboard, sometime in the afternoon the Captain comes on and says we have one positive case. A few hours later its 14 confirmed cases, and everyone is told to return to their cabins until further notice (We never had an official announcement given after the first 14, but it was well over 100 cases by the end). The ship has just entered lock down.

On the 29th All crew got moved into guest rooms, this was both because of an order from the CDC, and so that the many smoker’s would be able to smoke on the balconies. We had different zones to divide everyone up:

Red Zone for confirmed cases, Orange for suspected/been in contact with, and the rest for supposedly healthy. It’s here that I note that even though I had already been in isolation for days, had a constant cough, and had had a fever (that by then had broken) I was never tested, nor was I put into orange zone.

At this point no one can leave cabins (excluding those working crew) and the company has started to realize that they need to get everyone back home as soon as possible. Repatriation efforts start to really kick into gear.

We stayed in what would eventually be labeled Phase 1 for 29 days. We entered Phase 2 April 26th.

PHASE 1

During the initial phase, all crew got asked if they wanted to stay onboard (unpaid), basically for those who didn’t want to or couldn’t go home for any reason. This would become Group 3. I was part of this group, for many reasons I did not want to go home, so the free room and board was perfect for me, and many of my friends. This is the sole reason I was onboard for so long, not because of anything the company did.

Those that did want to go home became group 2, many of them would end up waiting months before their country opened up and flights could be made, I remember how at the end of March beginning of April, we would constantly here from the Capt that some nationality was going to fly that day, only for him to come back and say that the got denied at some point in the process and would be coming back onboard. 

Those few that were still getting paid, still had a job because someone had to run the ship became known as Group 1.

I don’t really remember that much from this time, the days really started to blend and the isolation was not helping anything. While people in the US where throwing fits over “Shelter in Place” orders, I was not allowed to leave a room that was roughly 20′x10′. They complained about not being able to see friends, I only saw 1 person a day (one of my managers twice a day for temp checks, approx. 5 second visits each). They complained that stores had limited hours, I had no store, I had limited choice in food, I had no ability to get snacks, it was 3 meals a day that’s it, you want some chips at 3pm to bad dinner won’t come till 6pm. (eventually they sorted out a system so we could by snacks, beer, cigs, and bathroom supplies). To top this all off we had no access to laundry services till round April 5th, I was put in isolation before everyone else, I had not done my laundry for a week before hand....I was struggling.

Looking through some old notes, apparently at one point I had made a schedule, Breakfast 9-10...Read till 11....Listen to the crew radio show 11-1...Lunch 12-1...Nap...Dinner 5-6...Sleep. Very stimulating days we had.

A month of solitude was not easy, especially when you keep hearing about crew members being denied entry into their own countries, the media blaming the industry as a whole for covid reached the US, constantly thinking our quarantine was gonna end only for it to be extended, and not seeing or really speaking to anyone the entire time. But a light at the end of the tunnel...Phase 2

PHASE 2

April 26th we got let out....kinda...

Split down the Middle...people on Portside got let out for 3 hours, then People on Starboard got let out for 3 hours (this excluded anyone in red or orange zone). After our “yard time” we went back to our cabins. Once a week you could go down and purchase up to 4 items from the slop chest (the crew shop). Everyone was wearing masks, the only time we weren’t is if we were smoking, one person per ashtray spaced about 8ft apart. 

At some point during this time the Captain made a comment on how in hindsight we should of went straight into lockdown on March 15th, that we should of done 2 weeks then instead of over a month now.

We still had 2 temp checks a day (done door to door), and all meals were still delivered. There is a reason we joked about it being yard time, because it really was. You got to get some fresh air and maybe see a few friends that was it....Luckily it didn’t last long we entered phase 3 on May 12th. 

But before that a note. By this time the fleet had started using our own ships to transport crew home, aka one ship sailed a bunch of people over to India. Along with that some people were getting lucky enough to have flights. So my ship was constantly losing people, either because they got a flight home or where being moved onto another ship. If I remember correctly our largest sign off was ~500 Filipinos, it was a hectic time in crew movement, by the time we got into Phase 3 we only had a few hundred people on board if memory serves right.

PHASE 3

We could finally be outside for as long as we wanted, no more restricted movement. Meals where in the large guest buffet area (seating 1 or 2 people a table only, all distanced), temp checks where done at division based locations, for me that was the theatre (still two a day)....that’s basically the only change.

We still had to wear masks at all times, we were still supposed to keep distance, no groups, no going into each others cabins, no fun nights out...in theory.

The first few days in Phase 3 we ended up signing off almost everyone that was in Group 2, by May 20th we were at minimum manning +16 Group 3 (in total about 100 people). It was then that we went back to eating in the crew mess and the restrictions where unofficially forgotten about. 

When I say this you must keep in mind that at this point it had been almost 3 months since any of us had touched land, and a solid month and a half since we had a positive case. Much like New Zealand and Australia now, we no longer had to worry about covid. We still wore masks around the ship (thanks to the CDC), but unless Chief Safety caught you no one was gonna look twice at a large group eating at one table, or a group staying up late drinking and playing cards (guilty of that)...By the end of May it was almost like we had regained some normalicy...so of course it couldn’t last...

MOVING SHIP 

May 21st, Group 3 got a notice that we would be transferred to another ship in the fleet to consolidate all of us together. They said it would be a few weeks before this transfer...We finally got moved on June 22nd.

As of today March 16th 2021 a full year after we stopped sailing, the last remaining Group 2 and Group 3 people from my company have gotten home, those that were in Group 2 came from Vietnam, and Trinidad and Trabago it took a year to finally get them home...let that sink in.

...

And here is where i’ll end this tale, if anyone is interested in knowing about life on the 2nd and 3rd ship I got transferred to before going home in December, let me know i’ll type something up.

#cruise crew #Cruise Ship #covid #crew #long post #there is so much i didn't put down #all the little things #all the rules #all the shit the cdc did to us and still is doing #a lot of nuance #is lost here as i tried to make it not a super long post #as well as keep it vague what company i work with #and don't get the wrong idea here i will be the 1st one back on a ship #i just felt like doing a retrospective on how my covid experiance differed from others #maybe its because my friends from the ship just got home and seeing them reacting to just everything that's changed .... #well it got me thinking

[jeejee-the-snek-boi]

The Urban Kraken

TMA AU

Tw: mild/moderate horror depending on tastes, drowning, facial distortion/shapeshifting/camouflage

Statement of Logan Sanders, regarding his time as a marine biologist working in Birmingham. Original statement given January 13th, 2012. Audio recording by Janus Dee, Head Archivist of the Thomas Headscape Institute, London.

Statement begins.

-

I'd recently moved to Birmingham to help out at the National Sea Life Centre. It wasn't particularly an interesting job, or even one appropriate for my level of qualification as a marine biologist, but we'd had reports of some kind of squid spotted in the local canals. There'd been otters and even dolphins who had managed to find their way into canals and rivers that would be outside of their normal habitat, so whilst a squid sounded unusual, to boot, I was naturally curious as to how it had got there. My colleague at the time- a rather very annoying yet charming man called Roman who worked in the gift shop- had warned me not to investigate. I found it… odd, to say the least. He couldn't have known much about marine biology- or, at least, I assumed he didn't, given the fact he was unable to distinguish between a shark plushie or a dolphin one, although perhaps he merely needed glasses.

I, of course, didn't heed his warnings- I had no need to, at the time, of course, although he did seem rather familiar. 

It took me a few days to realise that we had the same face, only… he wore it more expressively than I did, and he didn't seem to wear glasses either. I merely assumed it was a coincidence, or some long lost relative, so I didn't give it any thought.

I was working behind the scenes mainly, although I did occasionally try my hand at being a tour guide. I happen to have a special interest in marine life- hence my profession- so I found joy in teaching people about the animals we housed there. The children particularly liked the sharks, which wasn't a surprise to me, although it wasn't uncommon for people to label my commentary as unnecessary and boring- I tried not to let it get to me, of course, although occasionally it did.

On one such day, I found myself going for coffee on my break, where I ran into Roman. I didn't particularly mind his company, although I still found him a little odd. I knew everything about his dreams and ambitions- and he had a lot- but very little about him personally. He would talk for hours about his dreams to make it as an actor, and I gained a fair few insights of his insecurities too- the man seemed riddled with them. 

And, whilst I'll admit, none of that is particularly unusual, he'd ask everyone about their families or their kids- he made it a point to learn as much as he could about people and to include those facts in his daily interactions, but we never learned anything about him. Most people where I worked had written him off as shallow and selfish, superficial even, but I suspected differently.

 Anyway, Roman and I talked for a number of months, and I still hadn't learned a single thing about his life. I still didn't know why his face was so familiar to me until I found myself people- watching at the gift shop one day, and I noticed that, alone, his features seemed to… shift. I couldn't pinpoint what colours his eyes were, and his skin had taken on an almost… iridescent quality, if that's even the right word for it, as though he had chromatophores. It reminded me of a cuttlefish, or other cephalopod. 

I'd put it down to some form of shiny make-up, or perhaps a face mask that he'd forgotten to remove in the morning properly, and it wasn't until a few weeks later and more people watching that I finally noticed what detail I had been missing- his features seemed to shift and change to match those of each customer.

I was alarmed, of course, because there was no logical explanation as to why a human would possess such qualities.

Which… for some strange reason, drew my attention back to the so-called squid in the canals myth that had been circulating for a while now. 

There had been some… rumours circulating, asides from the existence of the squid. There'd been a few scattered suicides and cases of drunken misadventure down at the canals, a few dead bodies, all drowned. Some were intoxicated, and almost all were alone- although the time of death wasn't always at night as you might expect for a spate of murders. So, naturally, people started to link the deaths with the squid. 

I was curious, and wanted to see the squid for myself, so I spent several days observing the canal. I sat on the benches with my notebook and camera, although apart from the odd family of mallards, or a troublesome Canada goose, there was nothing in the water. I eventually concluded that there wasn't anything in the water, but now I was invested in the mystery.

The deaths were relatively spread apart, although almost all of them had been within the city centre. I observed for longer anyways, deciding instead to people watch- if there was a murderer, the murderer most likely frequented the area, although as more deaths occurred, I found myself struggling to find a connection to any particular person's commute and the times or locations of the murders.

I remembered Roman's odd ability to camouflage, although I knew his commute took him to the other side of the city.

That was… until I saw him down by the canal. He seemed to be talking to the water, so I kept myself hidden behind one of the bridges. He left, and, as far as I'm aware, didn't kill anyone. 

I took to following him after work, watching him frequently do the same thing again and again. It was… odd, but he wasn't the murderer. Although, I was beginning to suspect that, if Roman wasn't human, and was some form of… I wouldn't go as far as to call him an aquatic mammal- but sea creature, perhaps, then perhaps he was communicating with the squid. 

So the next time I visited, I brought my scuba suit. I must have looked a prat walking through the streets in scuba gear in the middle of an urban area, but I was intent on getting to the bottom of this mystery. 

It took several days before I had the courage to jump into the murky water- the amount of waste products thrown into the canals ranged from the odd box to shopping trolleys to knives- and there were a lot of knives in Birmingham- anyway, I wasn't planning to jump in just yet, until I saw a thick tentacle pull Roman into the canal.

I panicked, and dived in. I'd had experience working with squids- it was stupid of me to dive in without chain mail, given how sharp the beak of a squid can be- but I was only thinking about saving my colleague from the canal. I knew how to make the squid let go, and I intended to do that.

I couldn't see very well, but I could make out their shapes, and Roman didn't seem to be having any trouble breathing at all. The squid was half person, like a mermaid- although perhaps a little demented, but they were hugging Roman.

As soon as the squid person- for comedic purposes, I'd named them squidward- noticed my presence, I attempted to swim away, although they grabbed me before I could do so.

I was sure I was going to die, so I squeezed my eyes shut- only to find myself being pulled to the squid person's chest in a hug. It was… strange, to say the least, and awkward. But soon, the squid person let go of me and allowed me to swim away. Roman joined me, although he seemed reluctant to look me in the eye. 

I confronted Roman, who explained to me that the squid person was his brother, Remus- or, more accurately, his sort of twin. The two had once been one being, but both had very different desires- Roman wanted to live on land, whilst Remus was content in the water- so they had simply… split, into two.

I asked about the deaths, and Roman explained that Remus didn't understand that humans couldn't breathe in the water. He was lonely, and whenever he saw somebody else lonely, he wanted to hug them. They usually drowned, and Roman didn't have the heart to tell him that they had died.

I… went back, in my scuba suit, and kept Remus company with Roman for the best part of six months- and the deaths diminished greatly. Of course, we couldn't keep it up forever, so we had to find a way to help Remus to understand that humans couldn't breathe. We didn't find a way, so I came up with a solution. 

Roman had quite a bit of money saved up, and the two of us had become… close, to say the least, if the evenings spent in his apartment were anything to go by, so we brought ourselves a patch of land up in the Yorkshire Dales, and dug up one of the fields entirely. We made a pool, a deep pool, and I borrowed one of the moving tanks from the aquarium and we transported Remus up to his new home. 

He loves it there, content to splash about, and free to hug Roman and I without fear of drowning anyone. And Roman and I managed to hold down our jobs back in Birmingham thanks to rail travel, even if the long commute was taxing, at times, and eventually decided to get married.

I decided to submit my story to the archives to keep a document of the existence of such creatures, and to put word out that they are not harmful and are not to be killed.

-

My initial reaction would be to discredit this statement as a rather elaborate prank, but nonetheless I had my colleague Virgil do some digging, and he found that Logan Sanders had a doctorate in marine biology from Oxford University. He did work, and still does work, at the Sea Life Centre in Birmingham city centre, and was willing to talk to us again. Virgil requested pictures, which Logan was happy to provide us with, so I had Patton check to see if the photographs are real. Again, the photographs checked out, and Logan and Roman allowed us to visit. After said visit, I can confirm that the squid man, and indeed Roman's cuttlefish-like camouflage, are more than just urban myths.

Recording ends.

@needscaffeine @patton-birdie @sanderssideburns

Anyone can ask to be tagged! Tagging you guys because

1. Mutual

2. I sent an anon ask and you said I could tag you!

3. Bae

#tw drowning #mild horror #facial distortion #tma au #sanders sides #crossover #background logince #logince #minor logince #sea creature Remus #sea creature Roman #roman sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #ts fanfic #ts fanfiction #ts fic #Cal Writes

[theartofbeinganeldar]

The Art of Being an Eldar: Legolas x Reader Chapter 2

Summary: You're a fantasy-loving, LARPing human from this world, who's the black sheep of society because of your obsession for the unreal and alienation of what's real. When you're in the middle of a LARP battle with some pretty phony boars, you fall out of a tree and bust your head. You wake up, alone, and are suddenly attacked by some very pissed-off, very real wargs. Without any idea of how you got there, you got dropped into Middle-Earth, with only bits and pieces of memories of Tolkien's masterpiece, though your recollection of everything else is perfectly clear. And of all places in Middle-Earth, you got dropped into Mirkwood, with some suspicious, potentially hostile, Woodland Elves...

Chapter No.: Chapter 1

Key: [Y/N]=Your Name [F/N]= Friend's Name [B/N]= Bro's Name [S/N]= Sis's Name [M/N]= Mom's Name [e/c]= eye color [h/c]= hair color [s/c]= skin color

Notes: Listen to Medieval Pagan Music, Runestones when reading this chapter.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, graphic depictions of gore and violence (Cuz of orc battles y'know?), more angst, slow burn, some light depression in the first few chapters, some amnesia about Middle-Earth because the Valar say you're not supposed to have foresight, hard-core language, feels, lots and lots of feels, mentions of NSFW content, maybe some eventual NSFW content, LGTBQ+ characters, Thranduil being a jackass at first because he's fabulous, Legolas being a hot edgy prince that nobody can handle, Kili being an innocent bean, Hobbits being smol innocent beans, except for Bilbo 'cause he's been through some tough shit, Bard being dad of the year, Thorin being one dumbass boi, awesome dragons, awesome Nazgul, awesome scenery, awesome stuff in general, Elrond isn't listened to by anybody, confused Aragorn is confused,  Denethor's a bitch as always, Boromir lives, brace yourself for creepy as fuck Cream of Worm Tongue Grima Wormtongue, Gandalf. (yes these are all legit warnings don't judge me)

Pairings/Ships: Legolas x Reader, Legolas x you, Aragorn x Arwen, Faramir x Eowyn, Thranduil x Elvenqueen, Galadriel x Celery Celeborn, Boromir x OC, Thorin x OC, Fili x OC, etc. general LoTR standard shippings plus some of my own cuz I can't stand my boys being lonely

Word Count: I try to keep my chapters short, under 2000 words.

Rating: Teen (14+) for now

When I said I hated reality, I didn't mean I wanted to be ripped from it without my family.

How they'd healed you so efficiently was beyond your comprehension, and nobody came to visit you. You couldn't bring yourself to eat much of what they brought you. To think you'd finally gotten your wish, you'd finally, somehow gotten sucked into some alternate reality where fiction was fact and what you'd known and lived in for your entire life was nonexistent... It was amazing. Surreal.

But you couldn't stay here. Not without your family. Not without your mom, not without [B/N], not without [S/N]. [F/N]... You wished you could've at least said goodbye to him. Life without the only people you'd ever had seemed unreal, incomprehensible, and too nightmarish. Too... Alone. You couldn't lose them.

For hours, you waited, pacing the ten-by-ten cell furiously. You had to find some way to get out, some way to find whatever portal you'd triggered... A sound at the barred door made you freeze in place, whipping around like a meerkat. It was Blue-Eyes, and some of his guards, one of which was unlocking the door. "Are you letting me go?"

Blue-Eyes stared at you as if trying to figure out whether or not you were desperate or stupid. Finally, he shook his head, probably deciding it was most likely both in your case. Well, screw him. "My father wishes to see you."

You glanced to each of the guards that came to grip either of your arms. "Is that... Bad?"

Blue-Eyes smirked. "It depends on his mood."

You glared at him as the other two Elves ushered you out of the door, onto the precariously thin ledge just outside of the cell. "You're trying to freak me out, aren't you?"

Blue-Eyes didn't answer, but took up the rear of the procession. They lead you to a platform overlooking all of the mazelike bridge-sets of the dungeons, and opened a pair of elaborately crafted doors. You balked, your jaw fell, your eyes widened as far as they'd go, stunned by the view.

The building you'd thought was surrounded by trees? It was a palace-city, which stretched back from the front wall as far as you could see. And it was made entirely of trees. Bridges of wood, twisting trunks, curling pillars of wood holding up a vaultrf ceiling which opened up to the orange-gold canopy, and beyond, the cloudless blue sky. Huge, arched windows with stained glass of amber filled the front wall, framed in wood, every few dozen feet, letting in a golden light that made the entire place seem more surreal than it already was. Leaves fell too slowly here, as if afraid that touching the ground would destroy their fabulousness. Elves inhabited every floor, sailing gracefully around like gorgeous swans that glared down at the sudden ugly duckling in their midst.

You felt tiny.

"This is your home?" You breathed in amazement, going where the guards took you on autopilot as you drank in the magnificent sight. "It's bigger than the town I live in!"

"This is just a small portion of it," Blue-Eyes had a hint of pride in his voice. You glanced over your shoulder to see him taking in the view with a faint smile on his face. "This part is my father's palace. Only nobles and militia reside here."

"It's beautiful..." You surveyed the palace in awe. I'm here. I'm really here! This is where I'm supposed to be! "Do you all have different floors? Is it flameproof? What happens if there's a forest fire? Can you even get forest fires here?"

"Why would you like to know?" Blue-Eyes demanded sharply, all kindness gone just as suddenly as it'd arrived, replaced with obvious suspicion and disdain.

You sighed, and dropped the subject. You wouldn't be finding anything out about this place today. The guards lead you up a short flight of stairs, which stopped at a huge circular pavilion, lined with a different type of guard in silver armor and navy-blue masks covering their lower faces. They stood almost impossibly still, and each carried a deadly spear.

More stairs, curving upward from each side of the pavilion, lead to a massive throne of carved wood. A regal Elf lounged on it, holding a curled wooden staff. He wore silver robes lined on the inside with a deep crimson, and a crown of thin branches styled like an elk's antlers --or maybe a thornbush-- sat atop his head of snow-white hair. Piercing blue eyes watched you from underneath strangely dark (And thick.) brows, but his catlike face was drawn into an unreadable expression.

Blue-Eyes stepped before you and the guards, and put his right arm over his chest, fist resting over his heart, as he bowed at the waist. "My king, we have brought the prisoner."

Inwardly, you winced. What kind of father forced his son to call him 'my king'?

The Elvenking flicked his fingers toward the guards on either side of you. "Leave us."

As they left with barely a clink of armor, Blue-Eyes grabbed you roughly by the shoulder, forcing you to your knees. His grip was like iron. He leaned down to snarl in your ear, "Show respect. His majesty has shown you a great kindness in allowing you to live."

Aw, fuck. You forgot that these guys had healed you. If Lord Fabulous over there had decided that by even so much as breathing near his lands you didn't deserve for your wounds to be healed, you'd be dead right now. "O-oh..." You quickly fixed your position, and even bowed your head with an arm over your chest, like Blue-Eyes had done. "Sorry..."

"My son tells me he found you trying to escape from warg-bound orcs on our northern border," Elvenking drawled slowly. Wargs... Those big dogs... Why does that sound familiar? Were they in a book? Mythology? A game? You couldn't remember, and Elvenking didn't give you time to. "You were found near-death, and without any apparent recollection of how you came to be there. Is that correct?"

You weren't sure how to adress him. "Yes, sir. My lord. Your majesty. I'm sorry."

Elvenking continued. "Would you like to elaborate on what you do remember?"

His tone wasn't kind. It was "Tell me bitch or I will throw you off into the chasms below."

And there were lots of chasms.

"You won't believe me," You started, and risked a glance; Blue-Eyes and Elvenking watched you warily. You could easily say you were from this world, but you didn't know anything about it. You couldn't lie believably. And even if you could, Elves can sense lies. You figured you'd get some extra points if you were totally honest. "But I'll tell you anyway." So you started out with your explanation of coming from a place called Earth, and that you'd been having a battle against some pretty fake boars played by unconvincing actors in Live Action Roleplay, when you'd fallen out of a tree, banged yourself up, and knocked yourself out. You then proceeded to explain about the big dogs and the orcs.

Elvenking lifted his chin slightly for the sole purpose of glowering at you. "Tell me more of this... Earth." You told him all you could. About cars and trains and jets and phones, then on to TVs and movies, and the huge skyscrapers, and how modern slang was different from what it had been, and how where you came from, Elves and orcs and dragons were all part of a genre known as fantasy. You even tried, for a brief period of time, to explain the subject of eMail and social sites like Tumblr and Twitter, but you gave up at their odd looks as they tried to comprehend the concept. You told them about all seven continents, presidents, world leaders, endless wars, hunger, trashing the planet and all other shit that was wrong with Earth.

You could've been there for hours explaining it all. When you were finished, Elvenking regarded you like he'd just came to the conclusion that you just weren't normal. "It seems, [Y/N], that your world is poisoned."

"It is!" You agreed excitedly. "Nobody cares about it anymore! It's why I grew up to be so... Un-normal, by my world's standards."

"I see..." Elvenking blinked slowly. "Then you are, since you are a spawn of this Earth, equal poison to this world, are you not?"

All the blood drained from your face. "What?"

He looked to Blue-Eyes. "Kill them."

Blue-Eyes gripped you by the back of the head, and your hands flew to his wrist as he yanked your head back. With a flourish, he drew one of his ivory-handled knives and pressed it to your throat. "Wait!" You screamed, and Elvenking raised a hand.

"Last words?" Blue-Eyes sneered.

"I don't know where I am," You choked out quickly; the cool steel of the blade was digging into your neck, cutting a fine line. "I don't know how I got here, but usually when stuff like this happens in movies, there's always a portal. Let me find it-- send an escort if you want! Take me back to where you found me, and I'll find the portal and go home. You'll never see me again!"

Elvenking dropped his hand, and your heart jumped, expecting your head to go with it. "Do you really think that is wise? I sense no dishonesty from you, but you could very well be a spy from your world, which seems so intent on conquering and destroying peace. I will not let this world, much less my own land, fall prey to yours."

"I won't tell anyone about you, or this place, I promise! I don't even know where this is!" Tears of frustration pricked the corners of your eyes. "I'm not a damn spy! I don't even know how I got here! Give me a couple of days to find the portal. Then I'll leave. What if there was a way for you to know I'll keep my word? Like a blood-oath, or something!"

"And if asked where you had gone?" Blue-Eyes countered, cocking an eyebrow.

"I'll tell them I went to Narnia, dammit! They never take me seriously anyway!" Your eyes widened. "This isn't Narnia, is it? Narnia didn't have Elves!"

"No, this is not... Narnia." Elvenking replied. "And you will not know the name of this land. You have three days to find your portal. You will be accompanied by a small assembly of my best warriors. If you do not find the door to your world within the given three days... I will give the order to kill you."

You swallowed hard. The steel dragged across your throat painfully. "Th-that sounds fair." It didn't, but, you just rolled with it.

"Legolas, you will go with them," Elvenking said; something clicked in your mind. You knew that name... You knew that name. But... Why?

Blue-Eyes-- Legolas-- nodded and finally removed the blade from your throat. Lord Fabulous inclined his head once, and you vaguely thanked him, too concerned with how you knew Blue-Eyes's name. He kept a tight, painful grip on your arm, actually digging his fingers in until you were pretty sure he cut off most of your circulation.

When you reached your cell, he thrust you in roughly, making you stumble forward. You whipped around to glare at him. "Could you be careful, Blue-Eyes?"

He paused in locking the door. Confused, he brought his sapphire eyes to meet your [e/c] ones. "What did you just call me?"

"Blue-Eyes," You suddenly felt a little embarassed about picking a nickname for him. Shit, you'd never let that bother you before. He could screw off. "I didn't know your name until a few minutes ago, so... I just picked something to call you."

He raised an eyebrow incredulously. "And you chose to call me after my eyes." It wasn't a question; it was a statement.

You flushed a little, glancing to the side with only your eyes nervously, then back to him. "Uh... Yeah. That's pretty much it."

He rolled his eyes and walked away. Before you even realized what you were doing, you'd ran to the bars and grabbed hold of them, pressing your cheek up against them to watch him walk away. "Blue-Eyes!" He stopped, but didn't turn around. "Your name... Legolas. I think I've heard it before."

He turned his head slightly, like he might be interested, but your hopes fell through the floor when he just continued walking. You immediately wished you'd've said something to get his attention, so he'd come talk to you. Like, Hey, I'm really a spy for Earth, MWAHAHAHAHAHA.

Ok, maybe not that drastic...

But you did wish he'd stayed to talk to you. Even if he'd tried to kill you. Legolas... You slid down the bars, sitting on the floor. Your knees came up to your chest of their own accord. Legolas... What do your Elf eyes see? You knew that you knew his name, but where did you know it from?

They're taking...

Aw, damn. It was right on the tip of your brain. Lord Fabulous looked really familiar, too. He reminded you of Ronan the Accuser from Marvel. Why couldn't you remember? Was it a side-effect of being tossed to another reality? What else did you not remember...?

You sat there for hours, until one of the guards brought you some food. You picked at the meal, as a tune got stuck in your head that you couldn't quite place...

Home is behind...

The world ahead...

Here, the song fizzed out like a radio signal, then you got another bit of it...

All shall fade..

All shall...

...Fade...

~ominous time skip~

You, Blue-Eyes, and a team of Elvish warriors like the ones who'd helped you escape the dogs and orcs set out at dawn, which was way too early for someone used to getting up at noon most of the time. All the Elves showed off their glowy perfect selves by leaping gracefully to pebble to pebble like the regal shits they were, including Blue-Eyes.

Actually, scratch that. Blue-Eyes was the fucking king of being a show-off.

They moved fast, and you were surprisingly able to keep up with them. Not one of the Elves wanted to speak to you; they seemed to consider you an abomination.

You kinda seen what they were getting at, though. You were still in your bright white, blue, and black sci-fi Elf outfit from yesterday, complete with the latex ears and bright blue faux-hawk, which had become much less faux-hawk-y after sleep. You were covered in dried blood, dirt, and parts of your outfit were ripped. You'd tried to clean up as best as you could when you were woken up by using the water from the cup you'd been given to scrub your face and arms with the stunningly clean sheets on your cot.

In other words, you stuck out like a bright blue flower in a field of dark grass. You didn't know the way back to the river, so most of the Elves surrounded you discreetly while Blue-Eyes took the lead. Every one of them had a bow or sword or knife out and ready, so one wrong sniff and you were dead.

You traveled for about an hour before anyone spoke. It was Blue-Eyes, to your surprise. "Why is your hair blue?"

"Huh?" Of all possible questions, that one hadn't been expected. Though, that was kind of dumb of you, to just assume they wouldn't eventually wonder if everybody from your world had crazy hair colors.

"Your hair," Blue-Eyes specified, sounding condescending, like his hair was much better than yours because it was long and perfect and almost white. "Why is it blue?"

"Oh," You cleared your throat. "It's dye. My real color is [h/c]. Lots of people do it where I come from. You can dye it a natural color, or an unnatural color, like so. Some keep their natural color and just add streaks that aren't their natural colors. Some dye their full hair, like me, for the sole purpose of cosplay--uh, dressing up as made-up characters for events--and others dye it just for fun. Or to stand out, I guess. But I wouldn't advise it. It ruins your hair. I just don't care, though."

"Why would anyone want to do that?" One Elf asked in horror, then sneered at you. "I suppose those of your world simply do not appreciate the naturalities of the body."

You shrugged. You should see the LGTBQ+ community... But you didn't feel like explaining any of that to these people right now. Especially when they obviously looked down on stuff like that.

"And what character are you meant to be?" Blue-Eyes asked in a challenging tone.

You flushed. "... A sci-fi Elf."

"...Sci-Fi?" A different Elf asked. "What is that?"

"Science fiction," You specified. "Basically, I'm supposed to be an Elf from another planet. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Is that why you have pointed ears?" Blue-Eyes questioned, and you nodded.

"Yeah. They're latex-- a kind of rubber. Wait, do you even have rubber here?" You waved a hand. "Nevermind. They can come off pretty easily, though. Speaking of which, I'd better take them off before they cause damage..." You reached up to one of your ears, despite the looks the Elves gave you.

Blue-Eyes stopped for a minute, halting the whole group. He looked at you like you were crazy. "Whyever would you put something on your body that could cause damage?"

You blinked. "That is a very good question, Blue-Eyes, and one I don't exactly have an answer for. Almost everybody does it at some point." You felt for the flap of latex, but you couldn't find it. Hell, you couldn't even find the edge of the prosthetic. "Oh shit..." You breathed.

"What is it?" Legolas huffed, and turned around impatiently.

Your eyes widened; you couldn't let them think you were panicking, but, well, you were, and shortly after, you did. "I-I can't get it off."

Blue-Eyes's brow furrowed. "Will it cause permanent damage if they are not removed?"

"Maybe? Yes? My skin goes red and itchy and starts to swell up if I touch latex for too long, so, I'm gonna go with a definitely on this one. Just keep walking. I should have them off by the time we get to the river."

But you didn't. There was no flap, no edge of the latex. If it weren't for the fact that you did put latex ears on, you wouldn't have known you had latex ears on. A suspicion grew in your core, so you grabbed hold of the pointed tip, and pinched down with your nails hard and fast. "Ow!"

Every Elf turned to look at you as you pulled your hand away. Some blood was on the tips of your fingers. "Why, in the name of the Valar, would you hurt yourself?" Legolas sighed like a parent lecturing a child, but you were staring at your fingertips in shock. Valar...

"I'm an Elf..."

"I beg your pardon?" Apparently the mere thought of being the same race as you was too much for Blue-Eyes to handle. It was fucking offensive.

"I'm an Elf!" You shouted, and snatched your hand to your chest. "The ears won't come off! They bled and hurt when I pinched them! I'm a damn Elf! When I fell through that portal, I was a normal human! Now I'm an Elf! I don't know whether I should be freaking out or excited!"

Legolas rolled his eyes. "It won't be permanent. Obviously, here you're an Elf. There, you're not. When we get you through the portal, you'll be a human again."

"But..." I don't want to be human... Yet, you were also trying desperately to get back to your family, on pain of death and loss of cool fantasy land. If only you'd wake up to learn you were in some kind of damn coma...

You waved your hands. "Ok. Alright, fine. Is this where you found me?"

Legolas gestured to a particular rock. "The exact spot. Do you think you could find your way from here?"

You smirked; you'd always been good at knowing your way. "Please. I was born with an innate sense of direction. Now how the fuck do we get over this damn river?"

Legolas grinned. "You're an eldar now, aren't you? See if you can get across it yourself." Eldar... That had to mean an Elf of some sort, right?

You stared him down for a second, hands on your hips. He smirked cockily back, pure smugness on his expression. "Ok. Sure. What's life without risk?"

So you took a deep breath, and headed for the opposite bank.

You and your siblings had this special hiking trail in a park, and on this trail was a creek slash pond area. Several of them. You'd always cross the creek carefully, each step placed just so, and quietly, too, so that you could see the frogs-- it was a frog hunt without actually killing said frogs. The exercise gave you all good balance and a know-how for shit not that rock.

But this river was much different than the creek back home. It was clear, and clean, and strong as fuck, so one wrong move and you'd be whooshed away, with Blue-Eyes giving Lord Fabulous the excuse of "Oh they died in the river tragically oops..."

The rocks were unstable. The river swelled over them every so often to make them slippery. Your rubber boots were less than zero help. But you were an Elf now, right? So that had to make you unfairly agile. You took another deep inhale, then took what you hoped was a graceful leaping step, only for you to slip and nearly bust your ass. Elvish powers have to be learned. Noted.

When you finally got to the other side of the bank, you were stiff, and your heart was pounding. Behind you, the Elves sneered and jeered and all kinds of other "eers". You whipped around, and flipped them off. They looked somewhere between shocked, offended, and terrified. You realized they might not know the symbolism of it, and might think you were cursing them. When they reached you, Blue-Eyes was the first to demand what that was all about. "What was that all about?!"

You panicked under pressure. "U-uh... I-it's a minor insult where I come from. Very minor. We use it frequently as a joke among close friends. A friendly insult. Yeah. Sorry. Won't happen again." He totally didn't believe you. So you quickly changed the subject. "O-oh, uh, this way!"

Scenery seen at night was harder to recognize during the day, and vise versa, but you knew you hadn't gone too far up the river when you came across some massive paw prints and scrape marks from where you'd skidded down the bank. Another bonus clue was the scrap of bright blue fabric, from your skirt/tunic thing, hanging precariously from a branch.

It took you the better part of an hour to find the tree you'd woken up at. "Okay, this it it."

"Are you certain?" Blue-Eyes asked you.

"Wait." You laid down, and yep, everything was the same, except in daylight. Legolas frowned at you as you stood, probably ashamed to even breathe the same air as you. "Yeah, this is it."

Blue-Eyes ordered something in Elvish, jerking his head. The Elves immediately set about making camp. "So, in your world, you fell from the highest branches of an oak, yes?"

"Yep, breaking several things in the process."

"And you lost consciousness after you hit the forest floor?"

"Yep."

Legolas hummed and looked up into the canopy. "Then by all means... The portal should be where you laid."

You glanced down at your feet before bouncing up and down a little. "Nope. Nothing."

Legolas huffed. "You may have to try climbing this tree and falling into this spot."

A deranged laugh escaped your throat, which you quickly stifled. "I'm sorry, but are you crazy? What if I die? We don't have the same healing stuff as you guys unless you can pay for it up front, and I'm very poor. So is all of my family. We can't afford that shit. So if I die, what's the point in going back?"

Legolas glared at you. "I didn't mean from very high. Just high enough to hopefully send you through, but not high enough to kill you. Your healers will mend broken bones, will they not?"

You scoffed dejectedly. "Yeah, but for a pretty hefty bill..." You threw your hands up. "Whatever. I'll die anyway if I don't try. Might as well." With Legolas watching you carefully to make sure you didn't try to jump from tree to tree, you started to climb.

Was it really only yesterday that you'd been having a fun, standard LARPing day with your family and [F/N]? The real world seemed like fantasy, now. This felt real. This felt like where you should be. But if your family weren't here, you wouldn't be able to enjoy it. You'd always feel as if you abandoned them. You wondered, did time pass differently? Did it go faster there, and slower here? Or was it the other way around? Would you find the portal, and return to the real world to find your family long gone and the year a thousand into the future? Then you'd wish you'd never left this place. Or would you find not a moment had passed, and to them, it was still the terrifying moment of not knowing if you were dead or alive, to find you unharmed? Would you then be able to convince them to fall through, even on the chance that the portal could only be used a handful of times, and if it did work, would a millenia had passed here? Even Blue-Eyes would've aged by that point, however slightly.

Once you'd reached a suitable height, you braced yourself against the trunk. "How's this?"

Legolas nodded. "Fine. Jump when you're ready.”

You took a minute... Ah... Better get this over with. One does not simply... Damn, what was that meme? "Ok, ready when you are."

Legolas stepped back, and waited; you hesitated, then jumped, and you felt deja vu as you barreled toward the ground, landing flat on your back. The impact knocked the wind out of you, and you felt a painful snap in your right ribcage. You kept your eyes closed; you heard nothing aside from the birds in the trees. You hoped, then hoped some more, expecting at any moment to hear the frantic footfalls of your family rushing to help you...

"Well, I see I was entirely wrong on the matter," Blue-Eyes stated simply, and you frowned. Fuck...

"Ya think? I'm still seeing priss-ass Elves in a goddamn forest that isn't the one I fell in. Fuck you, Blue-Eyes, for having me break a rib for no good damned reason." You glared at him as you tried to sit up, barely making it halfway before Legolas helped you, albeit roughly.

"Watch your tongue," Blue-Eyes snapped. "If it were not for us, you would be dead."

You pursed your lips. "You're gonna kill me anyway just for breathing on your trees, so why didn't you just let me die?"

For a second, Legolas seemed to feel pity for you. "I am sorry. Truly, I am. Perhaps if we fail to locate your way home, I could convince my father to refrain from executing you."

You huffed, wincing as the action hurt your broken-on-some-level ribs. "Why? So I can live the rest of my suddenly immortal life in a dark cell, underground, just for existing? Hell no. I'd rather die."

"Perhaps you could have another use," Legolas offered, and you shook your head.

"Never in my life have I been considered useful." You eyed Blue-Eyes disdainfully. "Ever. By anybody. If you can find a place for somebody like me that doesn't involve imprisonment, fine. But I won't be able to live with myself if I can't find a way back to Earth. I need my family. They're all I ever had."

Legolas knelt beside you. "You... Seem to be very close with them. You love this..." He looked off into the trees, searching for the word. "...Life, so much, and have wished for it for so long, but you'd give it up, to be with them in a world that does not want you... You have a brave heart."

You took the compliment. "Thanks. Now let's find this damn portal, shall we? I've got a couple more ribs to bust."

Tag List: @tesserphantom​ @thedragonghostofmordor​

@taurlel​ @hauntedsiriel​

#legolas x reader #legolas x you #au #LARP #LoTR #the hobbit #legolas greenleaf #orlando bloom #orcs #wargs #elves #eldar #chapter 1 #theartofbenganeldar #fanfiction #romance #angst #fluff #gender-nuetral #wild #misfit #reader-insert #forest #mirkwood #middle-earth #lots of blue in this chapter #and lots of apparent apparentness apparently #ronanstolkienfam

[sparklyjojos]

THE SAIMON FAMILY CASE recaps [12/13]

In which we confront Gensui, make even more puns, and learn the beautiful boy’s secret. [tw: ED mention]

--

On September 19th, the first anniversary of Tamako’s death, everyone mobilizes to make sure not a single person will die this time. The entire giant family gathers in the auditorium of the stage next to their house, where they will spend the entire day guarded by several of Nihon Tantei’s Club office workers and detectives, young members of Fujita-gumi providing additional security.

The only family members to stay behind in Sanasou are the two surviving Tamakos, old man Gensui, as well as Tousen Natsuko and Tsukumo Karan who will provide them care. In order to guard these five, Ajiro, Kirigirisu, a few of their detectives and Fujita-gumi members will stay in the house.

The stakes are even higher than usual; if they fail to prevent yet another murder, Ajiro will quit the Club. A few of the Club's detectives, like Arito Tarou, only agreed to come here and help so they can witness his failure in person.

Ajiro asked Soga Tensui to meet him and Kirigirisu by the aviary at noon “for the final discussion about the Case”, so both detectives head there early. Ajiro chose the time and place on purpose; he knows from the dove caretaker Ranma that the big box with Onikaru-sama opens every year on September 19th between noon and 1 PM—apparently there's something about it that Ajiro wants to see.

As they wait for noon watching the doves, Ajiro points out more interesting (and wacky) coincidences. Prince Shoutoku lived in the Asuka period, Asuka being spelled with kanji for “flying birds” (飛鳥). The temple Houryuu-ji is located in the town Ikaruga (斑鳩), the name of which includes the kanji for “dove” (鳩).

When noon arrives, the detectives hear a loud coo, coo seemingly coming from within the box, and its double door opens to reveal Onikaru-sama.

No matter how long Kirigirisu stares at the figure, it doesn’t look like a dove. It’s more similar to a gray sparrow, its spread wings and tail darker, its distinctive beak gold. It's perched on a triple-pillared torii… and actually, the bird itself also has three legs.

Ajiro explains that the bird is a Japanese grosbeak, known as Ikaru or Ikaruga—the same name as the town Ikaruga that has just been mentioned. It’s likely that instead of Onikaru-sama, the figure was once called "the honorable lord grosbeak", On-Ikaru-sama (on being a honorific).

The triple-pillared torii is reminiscent of the shrine Kaiko no Yashiro, which is located near Kouryuu-ji, a temple founded by Prince Shoutoku’s close ally Hata no Kawakatsu. A fringe theory claims that the Hata clan was Jewish believing in Nestorian Christianity, and that Kaiko no Yashiro viewed from above resembles the Star of David. Perhaps that’s one more “proof” strengthening Soga Tensui’s belief in the connection between Shoutoku and Jesus.

As the detectives are lost in conversation, suddenly they hear another loud coo coo, but not from the box—it comes from right behind them.

The master of vocal mimicry Soga Tensui is standing behind them, a smile on his face.

“Souji, Kirigirisu… it looks like you have finally discovered our secret.” The man is speaking to them out loud, so he must be Gensui.

“Gensui… are you Jesus?” Ajiro asks without beating around the bush.

Gensui spreads his arms wide, creating the shape of a cross with his body—

“YES, I AM!”

[And what a horrible pun it is, since イエス is both “yes” and “Jesus”. Jesus I Am.]

“So… so you really are convinced you’re Prince Shoutoku and Jesus?” Kirigirisu takes a step back. “I can’t believe it…”

Gensui’s expression turns stern for just a second before that calming smile returns to his face. Kirigirisu realizes where else he saw a smile of this kind. It’s the “archaic smile”, often seen on Buddha statues. No doubt this too is a part of the man's delusion...

“It's not that I’m convinced,” Gensui says. “I really am both Shoutoku Taishi and Jesus Christ.”

“But that’s… are you claiming that you’re immortal?”

“No. Unlike Hikami Sensai, I'm not immortal.”

Hikami Sensai—the Mountain God that Hyousen once mentioned.

“I can think of only one explanation that supports your claims,” Ajiro says. “Shoutoku Taishi and Jesus Christ are succession names.”

“Indeed. Just like with stage names of kabuki theater or rakugo, Shoutoku Taishi and Jesus are also heritage names. In the Asuka period the name Jesus was first introduced to Japan, and a version of it changed to Japanese became a succession name. Its official form is Umayato no Miko. If Shoutoku Taishi was the first person to have that name, I would be the ninety-eighth Umayato no Miko in turn. ...I know you would not believe us even if we had definitive proof. No matter. It is enough that I know who I really am. No one else has to believe it.”

Kirigirisu naturally thinks that the man is completely nuts, but Ajiro warns him not to get heated; they have to accept what Tensui says for now or the conversation will get nowhere. Tensui comments that other people often refuse to believe giant truths that would turn their entire understanding of history around.

“I don’t doubt what you claim,” Ajiro says carefully, “but could you tell me how the next Umayato no Miko is chosen? Can there exist two at once?”

“When an Umayato no Miko senses their death approaching, they appoint a successor who will inherit the name. Anyone at all can be appointed, even those not related by blood. In the short period between appointing the successor and the predecessor's death, there technically exist two Umayato no Miko at the same time.”

“You said earlier, I quote: you have finally discovered our secret. By our, you mean…?”

“Mine and my predecessor’s. I am the only Umayato no Miko right now.”

“Could your predecessor be… Saimon Tamako?”

Ajiro explains how he came to this outrageous conclusion. Even though Tamako was Korean, she spent a lot of time travelling through Japan, and the title could be passed to anyone no matter the blood connection.

The three rich men who married the three Tamakos—Saimon Taishin, Tsukumo Taigen, Tousen Taikun—all changed their names, so they had a shared kanji tai (太). Everyone assumed that this name change occured before the triple marriage, but what if the opposite was true? What if it was in fact Saimon Tamako who proposed that change? While we’re at it, maybe it was her who came up with names for her daughter Akiko and some other family members like Taishi and Tsushima?

Once Gensui confirms that’s the case, Ajiro explains his thoughts in details.

Let’s look at the names of Taishin (太臣) and Taikun (太君) and replace that first kanji with another similarly looking tai (大). Taishin’s name would now mean a minister (大臣), while Taikun’s name could be read as ookimi (大君), like the emperor’s title in the times of Prince Shoutoku. Quite the coincidences.

Saimon Taishi was named after Shoutoku Taishi, though spelled differently. Tsushima is an island near the Korean Peninsula. The name Akiko (明子) is somewhat similar to mentaiko (明太子), which happens to both be a popular culinary ingredient in Korea and also have Shoutoku’s name Taishi (太子) in it. Many other members of the family have the kanji for “horse” in their names, which again relates to Umayato no Miko, “the Stable Door Prince”.

The next mystery to solve hid in the words Tamako used to repeat. Kudaranai… ima wa kudaranai. What she was actually saying was Ima wa Kudara nai, “there is no Kudara now”. Kudara is the Japanese name for Baekje, one of the Three Kingdoms of Korea. Ajiro thinks Tamako might have been born in the region formerly known as Baekje.

Gensui states that while he can’t know Tamako’s thoughts, the reasoning about her Kudara line seems legitimate.

Ajiro’s next rhetorical question touches on a more practical matter: aside from the name, what else does an Umayato no Miko inherit from their predecessor? The answer is easy to guess when you look at what Tamako and Gensui had in common: magic. What’s passed down is the art of illusion.

“The current public image of Shoutoku Taishi or Jesus Christ greatly differs from reality,” Gensui says. “Historical facts passed down through the ages turn into false nonsense. I don’t intend to deny what people believe about either of the two, but from my point of view, they were above all else splendid magicians. You're free to choose whether you believe it.”

Well, it’s true that Jesus made a lot of miracles happen, and the art of illusion as we know it was first introduced to Japan in Asuka period.

“Let's accept the premise of Jesus Christ and Shoutoku Taishi being magicians,” Ajiro says. “Maybe the problem lies not with them, but with those who came afterwards. Perhaps they weren’t just plain magicians, but—magicians of murder.”

“Not the softest way of phrasing it,” Gensui comments with a somber expression.

Ajiro exposits some more.

Ajiro’s grandfather Soujin is a skilled detective who up until now has solved every case thrown his way… except for one: the Kuroyashi (“black peddler”) case, which killed hundreds of yakuza members throughout a few decades. The murderer wore a black kimono and matching black garments, held white prayer beads in his hand, and hid his face behind kokushikijou, the black Noh mask of a happy old man. 

It was an open secret that Kuroyashi's true identity was Fujita Kyuuzou, who killed anyone trying to encroach on Fujita-gumi’s turf in Tsuwano. Even if Soujin knew that fact well, he had never managed to gather enough proof. Strangely enough, the two ended up becoming good friends even as a detective and a suspect constantly trying to figure each other out.

Kyuuzou was missing the tip of his thumb (for typical yakuza reasons), instead wearing a magician tool called simply a thumb tip. Soujin theorized that this could be where Kyuuzou hid the murder weapon he used to kill as Kuroyashi—poison needles. Maybe his death from a hornet sting was a fitting end for someone like him.

"I trust in my grandfather's abilities, so I also believe that Kyuuzou was Kuroyashi. However, the murderer in this Case isn't just him… The mastermind was Saimon Tamako, wasn't she? As the previous Umayato no Miko, she was a true magician of murder, a professional assassin of much greater skill than Kuroyashi. Since you claim you're not the culprit, then it must be her, right? No one other than you two—the magicians of murder—would be able to orchestrate the Saimon Family Case."

Gensui doesn't move. That archaic smile returns to his face.

"It's so unlike you to say such bizarre things, Souji. I understand why you suspect me, even though I am not the culprit. But to accuse Lady Saimon, who died a year ago…"

Gensui clearly isn't going to tell them anything as readily as he confirmed being Jesus.

"Souji, Kirigirisu, I think you have misunderstood something," he continues. "Except for the incident involving Yumeji, none of the deaths were murders. Even the police said there was no case."

"Are you seriously still claiming that?" Ajiro finally breaks and shouts in anger. "All just accidents, all on the same day of the month, twelve times in a row?!"

"You truly don't know when to give up. When I requested your help, I asked you to explain how these deaths could be murders. It seems you won't be able to fulfill my request no matter how much time passes. I have no choice but to withdraw the investigation request."

"Oh, so you’re withdrawing now? I don't care! I'm not here to investigate just because you asked me. I lost two of my people in this case. I will not back down!"

Ajiro and Tensui stand against each other, a detective against a suspect, just like Soujin and Kyuuzou before them. History repeats.

"If you still wish to investigate, I'm not stopping you," Gensui says finally. "Just let me give you a friendly warning. No matter how much you try, it's impossible to solve something that’s not a murder case like it is a murder case. Souji, it might sound weird coming from me, but do not underestimate the divine providence that can be nothing other than a miracle. No human can win a battle against the heavens. Even if the best detective alive investigated this case, they still wouldn't be able to solve it. My words aren't meant to challenge you; I'm simply telling you the truth."

"Then let me also tell you the truth. No matter how great a magician of murder you may be, I won’t let anyone die today. I used everything I had to prepare. Can you still make another incident happen? Here's a friendly warning: as soon as you try, it will be all over for you. These aren't the words of challenge, but simply the truth."

Gensui's smile doesn't waver, but his eyes fill with sadness. His expression turns to that of Buddha looking with compassion at all life.

"I didn't want to tell you this, but now I feel pity for you, Souji. You will learn for certain that I am not the culprit very soon; the Case is still going to continue even after my death. I may not be a fortune-teller, but even I can predict some things. You should know, Souji, that "prediction" is even a genre of magic. Magic always has secret methods behind it, but my own prediction is simply based on reasoning, something anyone can do with enough data. I'm going to die of illness. Illnesses are given to people by the heavens, and no human can possibly fight against their orders."

Illness? This is the first time they're hearing of this. Gensui looks perfectly healthy...

"The Case started on September 19th last year," Gensui continues, "and the incidents always take place on the 19th day of the month. If the will of heavens is connected to the number nineteen, then it stands to reason that the Case might last for nineteen months in all. My life will reach its end before the Case is finished."

Suddenly, they hear a loud coo, coo and Onikaru-sama's door closes again; it must be 1 PM. Gensui takes advantage of the others' momentary confusion and turns around to leave.

"I'm not going to run or hide," he assures them. "I'm just going to join my family in the auditorium. I… even now, I hold a favorable impression of you. I'd like to spend more time with you before my life ends… Let me give you a piece of information that might prove useful. My successor, the ninety-ninth Umayato no Miko, will be my nephew Saimon Juku. Ask him whatever you wish."

With this, Gensui leaves.

--

When later that day Ajiro and Kirigirisu check on everyone gathered in the auditorium of the stage, they witness Tsukumo Tsushima suddenly falling off his chair, their fellow detective Arito Tarou crumbling to the ground right afterwards. Both die shortly after being taken to the hospital. The cause of death in both cases is determined to be acute heart failure related to overworking.

--

Ajiro and Kirigirisu resign from Nihon Tantei Club.

“You didn’t have to quit as well, Kirigirisu,” Ajiro says, though he looks a little glad.

“Boss—no, Souji… I owe you my life. I have already decided to commit my life to helping you. I will stay by your side no matter what.”

Soon, Ajiro creates a small private detective bureau with Kirigirisu as the only coworker, Mizuki taking care of office matters. The bureau is located in Ajiro’s own house, so his son Souya is constantly running around, and Kano sometimes comes to visit.

Even though they’ve just started working on their own, Ajiro gets an astounding number of investigation requests, probably because he made a name for himself as the leader of Nihon Tantei Club. In fact, it turns out many people had only called Nihon Tantei Club in the first place because Ajiro was there, and now his private bureau ends up getting more requests than the Club.

With this new wind pushing them forward, Ajiro is sure they will solve even the Saimon Family Case.

--

Just like Gensui predicted, new incidents still keep coming.

Fourteenth… On October 19th, Saimon Miku dies in the bath from carbon monoxide poisoning, indirectly caused by a wild bird’s nest blocking the chimney.

Fifteenth… On November 19th, Saimon Yurine dies from shellfish poisoning—more specifically from red tide toxins—when dining with friends in Yamaguchi.

Sixteenth… On December 19th, Saimon Akiko (junior) is found starved to death in the family’s storehouse, suspended by her arms inside the giant bell. It is noted that the girl had developed anorexia some time before and was under significant stress after her mother Yurine’s death. The police doesn’t consider the incident a murder.

--

While investigating Akiko’s death, Ajiro and Kirigirisu learn another secret behind the magic show. Three bells are used in the show, one real and two gimmicks. The gimmicks are shown on stage, while the real one is kept backstage and struck in accordance with the performers striking the gimmicks to give the impression that the latter are real. The magician can hide inside the gimmick easily and be moved somewhere else with it, so he can magically appear even in places without a trapdoor.

When armored Soga Tensui disappears behind the projection screen, he actually pulls himself up inside the bell above him. When the other bell near the front of the scene is then lowered down, the second Soga Tensui shows up from beneath it using the trapdoor. Both bells are then lowered to the ground and covered with black cloth. At this point, the bells (and the first Soga Tensui who’s still inside) are taken off stage through the trapdoor—apparently the gimmicks can be easily taken apart so they fit through. Two frames are put up instead to give the impression of two bell-like things underneath the cloth. The frames are black, so even after the Soga Tensui who’s still on stage removes the cloth, spectators can’t really see it in front of the black curtain.

--

The cases still keep coming.

Seventeenth… On January 19th, Tsukumo Touji (Tsushima’s young son) dies when a hospital nurse accidentally gives him the wrong IV drip. The boy was hospitalized due to serious malnutrition, the long-term effect of stress after his father’s sudden death.

--

If Gensui’s prediction was true, there will be two more cases, one of them surrounding his own death.

...that’s assuming he’s telling the truth. As far as Ajiro can tell, Gensui already lied to them about Saimon Juku being his future successor. When back in September the two detectives asked the boy about whether he’s Umayato no Miko, he just looked at them with honest confusion and repeated his usual ima wa kudaranai. When Ajiro explained what that phrase actually meant and asked about Prince Shoutoku, the boy still kept staring at them completely lost, visibly not understanding what on earth is going on.

When they brought this up to Gensui, he told them that Juku was just feigning ignorance; that specifically because the boy was Umayato no Miko, he wouldn’t let anyone know his secret. This explanation just sounded like Gensui trying to confuse them further.

After repeated attempts to ask Juku about the topic and never getting any solid answer, the two detectives gave up on trying to talk to him.

--

Eighteenth… On February 19th, Ajiro and Kirigirisu find Gensui’s body in front of Shouryouin. He looks so thin and miserable it’s hard to believe he could be the same healthy strong man they knew. Autopsy reveals he had last-stage cancer.

On the same day, the only remaining Soga Tensui disappears. Kirigirisu instantly thinks that the two may have switched places—the classic mystery plot twist—but Ajiro cools his enthusiasm by revealing yet another secret of the two brothers.

When Tensui (that is, the older brother Ryuusui) was a young man, he lost his left hand in the Pacific War. It’s hard to notice nowadays as he always wears a prosthetic, the movements of which can be secretly controlled with his right hand. The device was designed by the late Tousen Yomi, the genius magic prop maker. Tensui and Gensui both wore white gloves at all times to hide the difference. Apparently Tensui hates to be looked at with pity, can’t stand the prospect of being seen as “that disabled magician” rather than being recognized strictly for his art, so he trained hard to make his movements look as natural as possible. That’s also why Ajiro stayed quiet about it until now.

The body they found in front of Shouryouin definitely has a real left hand, so it can’t possibly be the older brother… although Ajiro can’t completely deny the possibility that Tensui could have been lying about his disability, and actually used an illusion to make it look like he’s removing a prosthetic hand (an event that Ajiro saw with his own two eyes once). Or maybe the person he thought to be Tensui at the time was actually Gensui, and it was him who had a prosthetic… who knows which brother was actually which.

It’s all quite confusing, but Ajiro proposes they keep calling the dead brother Gensui and the one still alive Tensui, since this is what the rest of the family will think is the case… even though he personally suspects that the person they knew as Gensui is still alive.

What a weird brotherly switcharoo.

Ajiro gets lost in thought for a long time after that conversation, as if something pushed his mind onto a completely new track. After all the funeral rites are over and the house calms down, he takes Kirigirisu along to talk with Saimon Juku one more time.

Apparently Ajiro has no intention to needlessly prolong things, as he immediately asks the boy:

“Juku… are you actually Juku?”

“Boss, what are you even saying?!”

“If Gensui told us the truth, then Saimon Juku was chosen as the next Umayato no Miko. However, the boy in front of us doesn’t even know that name. I think the brother who died in the accident wasn’t Joukei, but Juku. Gensui—no, Tensui must have known about this switch. That’s why he sounded so confident when telling us we can ask the boy anything: because the child who knew all about Umayato no Miko was already dead.”

For a long moment, the boy with sunglasses is quiet. Then—

“You're right… Juku was the one who died,” Saimon Joukei says. Tears fill his eyes. “I was supposed to be the one to die that day. The man with the white demon mask came here and said he would kill everyone if I didn’t go with him… He really should have taken me, but… but Juku went to meet him instead. Before he went, Juku said… if something happens to me, please live as me from now on...”

Then Shiroyasha was the murderer in the Saimon Family Case as well…

“And after that,” Ajiro says with an expression like he just figured something out, “you suddenly became so beautiful that people faint just looking at you. I think I can explain it. The reason why babies are cute is because that cuteness is their only weapon; they can’t do anything by themselves and have to rely on adults being charmed into providing for them. Perhaps when people have no other means to protect themselves, they can somehow make themselves more beautiful in order to survive. Joukei, I think your sudden beauty is a defense mechanism. You can’t possibly allow anyone to notice that you and Juku switched places, not after he sacrificed his own life to protect you. That’s why you turned so beautiful that no one can take a closer look at you—so no one can notice the truth.”

Even Joukei himself looks surprised learning the reason behind his beauty.

Kirigirisu wonders whether this sort of supernatural transformation is actually possible in real life… well, he already knows that the boy really does make people faint, so the only choice left is to accept the improbable.

Now that the detectives are sure the boy really doesn’t know anything more about the Case or Umayato no Miko, they decide they can’t get him tangled into any more dangerous matters. They turn back to leave.

“Mr. Ajiro! Mr. Kirigirisu!” the boy shouts, making them stop. “From now on… will you protect me?”

“Of course we will,” Ajiro answers without hesitation.

--

[>>>NEXT PART>>>]

#sparkly reads the saimon family case #maijo and jdc stuff

[minaa-munch]

Ashes and Dust (Part 1)

"Why do you say that? You live in Konohagakure no Sato so you're one of us."

Little did she know, Kushina had fallen in love with who she considered the greatest ninja this decrepit little village would ever produce. 

And that would be the first step in her descent to madness. 

----

"Summimasen, Sumure san, I hope I didn't keep you waiting for too long." He said upon reaching the older man, his head bowed a fraction. Yamanaka Sumure didn't reply at first, cold blue hues fixed upon the boy as if in deliberation.

"Did you find her?"

"Hai. She's recovering in the hospital wing right now."

Cue a grunt that Minato had come to identify as approval. Long, spidery digits came to grasp his clothed arm and he felt the familiar, impatient tug. Feet moved in automation as he had long learned to simply not bother. The Yamanaka wasn't terribly unkind - rather, Minato liked to think that the man had a hard time communicating. In fact, the only person he had ever seen him talk softly to was Ryusui Sobo.

That had been so long ago. Heaving the tiniest of sighs, the blond stared at his dirty shoes as they crunched against the autumn waste. Silver moonlight flickered in patches over the track that led to the Yamanaka compound, overshadowed by the thicket of trees that crept over the Nara woodlands. Such were the ties that bound the Yamanaka with the Nara and the Akimichi clans - the legendary trio that had remained faithful long since before they had joined Konoha. 

Ryusui Sobo had told him all the stories. Minato had been her favorite (and only) student, after all. In fact, she was the reason he was here. She had left him a few things in her will and now he was finally old enough to collect. The clan head had been after his hide since the last two months, and had just about threatened to burn his seeming-inheritance if he didn’t show up today. 

But then Kushina had gotten herself kidnapped and the village had declared a level 3 emergency. All active shinobi ranked Chunin and above were to track her down and eliminate any assailants found.

Minato being Minato, had been the only one to notice the trail she had left - and naturally, Minato being Minato, had been too concerned with getting her back safely to properly ‘deal’ with her captors. The three Kumo shinobi had disappeared as soon as he had unbound her.

Not that their little disappearing act helped. Konoha and Kumo would go to war and they only had themselves to blame. 

“We’re here.”

But at least she’s safe - a small voice, very much like his own was enough to coax a smile from his monotonous features. Blue hues flickered upwards to the hauntingly familiar floral patterned shoji door that belonged to his deceased grandmother’s quarters. Minato had been given the option of claiming her space as his own when she had died, but he had politely declined. 

He happened to like his little apartment near the trade district, thank you very much. It gave him plenty of excuses to frequent Jiraiya sensei’s house and he was more than content with the barrage of cold cereal and sweet dumplings that would usually greet his arrival. 

The Jonin gave him a semblance of family that only his grandmother had managed to provide when he was younger. Bending down on one knee, the Namikaze removed his dirty shinobi sandals, mindful of keeping them in the floral-patterned rack she had put there just for him. A hand on his shoulder cautioned him not to linger and Minato rose, fingers easily sliding the door open. 

It took him a moment to realize that he wasn’t alone, and that Sumure was standing too close for comfort - another to realize that he couldn’t move. The hand on his shoulder tightened for a brief moment before it fell away, and blue hues found themselves locked on the intruder’s emotionless brown ones. 

 “- so you're one of us."

The last thing he remembered was gloved digits weaving hand signs for a jutsu he did not recognize, before a palm was slapped tightly over the top half of his face. He couldn’t see anything, but that was hardly the troublesome part. Tendrils of icy chakra crawled over his skin, leaving burning imprints in its wake. It burrowed through his forcefully open eyes, flooding his being with a painful numbness that he couldn’t help but succumb to.

“- one of us.”

Namikaze Minato knew no more. 

----

“Sensei, please” The man begged, hands splayed in front of him, “He’s a clan-less, airhead of a boy” a Jonin as reputable as Jiraiya was not prone to such helplessness, and it made him feel a certain degree of powerlessness that he hadn’t felt in a...very long time, “Anyone. Anyone else and I wouldn’t be fighting with you on this.”

That boy was a prodigy. He was the child of destiny. Minato-- 

“Enough.” the Sandaime sounded tired, if not entirely exhausted. Dark hues surveyed the village before him, the glass of his window doing little to reflect the sheltered expression he wore, “I think you should get ready for your mission.”

“Sensei!”

“Not now, Jiraiya. We have bigger things afoot.” His tone was more stern this time, as he turned to face the floundering mammoth of a man that was his student - one that had been reduced to a spluttering, yet surprisingly resolute wreck. The sight was enough to make the sensei in him soften - if only a tad. Sarutobi stepped towards him, one hand resting softly on his shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

“I promise to keep an eye out for him” He began, his tone taking an instructive hue, “But we have a war to worry about and you need to focus. We can discuss this case after you return from Amegakure.”

“...”

“Go. Orochimaru and Tsunade are waiting for you.”

----

Pale digits mindlessly traced the Konoha symbol on her hita-ite as a medic filled out a form on her clipboard. She had been filling out said form since the last twenty minutes and Kushina was quickly getting bored. Sure, she had almost been kidnapped - sure, the chakra draining binds had left her feeling pretty weak (or she would have kicked their butts ‘ttebane!), and she had almost passed out by the time Minato had gotten her to the hospital.

But as always, she healed pretty damn fast. The demon in her would never let any real harm come to his beloved host. 

Or so he liked to claim when he wasn’t hurling insults at her. Regardless, her as-per-the-usual speedy recovery was probably an alien concept to the older woman as she peered at Kushina, her eyes narrowed and pen hovering annoyingly over the page.

“And you’re sure you don’t feel any pain wh--”

“Iie ‘ttebanne!” she hopped off the bed, violet hues narrowed in a glower only she could muster after such an ordeal, “I’m fine! Its what I’ve been trying to tell you since I got here” 

Honestly, she should have forced Minato to treat her to ramen instead. What a flake. Kushina felt a dopey grin stretch on her face at the momentary thought, along with the slightest bit of color. 

“Kushina san, I still think--” Cue a low growl that shut her up, as the Uzumaki crossed her arms in front of her chest. They stayed like for an entire minute before she rolled her eyes and stomped towards the door. 

“Kushina san--”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back if my nose itches” Was the flat reply before Kushina disappeared out the door, leaving her poor medic to wonder whether she would get reprimanded by her superiors for something that wasn’t even her fault.  

Kami, what a waste of time though! the red-head huffed, half-expecting the Namikaze to be waiting in the hospital lobby, and slightly disappointed that he wasn’t there. 

He must have been tired, she reasoned with the morose little twinge in her heart. No biggie, she would bother him tomorrow - maybe even let him accompany her to Ichiraku’s for lunch? She would pay, of course - but just this once! She wasn’t made of money ‘ttebanne. 

But for all her planning, she couldn’t find him in the morning, either. Seemingly, he had been sent to a mission in Kirigakure. 

No problem. He would probably be back in a week, right? 

Kushina wouldn’t know, for you see, after four days of her almost getting kidnapped, the Sandaime’s personal guard had showed up at the care center she shared with other orphans, a platoon of ANBU in tow. The entourage was a bit overkill, but seeing as how she had bitten one of them last time, and pushed another into a puddle of baby vomit...

Ahem. 

Regardless. It was wartime. They would have to keep her in custody, safe from any possibilities of getting kidnapped and losing the bijū as a result. Kushina remembered feeling feeling puzzled at the idea, but seeing as how she had almost been kidnapped a few days ago, she supposed it wasn’t too unreasonable. 

Had she known that the stupid village had in store for her, she would have probably sealed her entourage in a diaper bag and given the Hokage a black eye to go with his ugly goatee. 

“Unreplicable.”

“So we stick to what Yuu said?”

“Yes”

“Ugh. Fine. Summon him and Daike. 

“Iie. Can’t. Don’t have clearance from the council yet.”

“This is war. We have all the clearance we need.”

Violet hues snapped open as she sank to the floor, her knees unable to support her weight. The only thing stopping her from tumbling to the floor were her trembling arms - a rare sight considering the fact that this was Uzumaki Kushina they were talking about. 

“I can’t” she whispered, her voice faint behind her infamous curtain of red locks. Pale digits slowly curled into a fist, “He’s still too hostile.”

Damn fox.

The man wearing the bear mask simply lowered his outstretched palm in response. He was sitting cross legged on the floor, surrounded by wooden totems and had his face been revealed the Uzumaki would probably see a plethora of scars decorating a dark, emotionless visage. 

If he felt frustrated by the lack of her progress, he didn’t say anything. He was a patient man, in any case. “Why don’t you try again after a short break?” he monotoned, letting the wooden totems sink into the ground, though not bothering to get up in the least. 

Why don’t you try choking on some v-- “I don’t see why this is so important ‘ttebanne.” She ground through clenched teeth before shooting the man a glower that would intimidate any Inuzuka, “I have him restrained and he’s not going to go on a rampage anytime soon.” 

Bemused, the man simply cocked his head, seemingly unaffected by her glare. She was as tough as nails, really. Any normal gaki would have been terrified of her current predicament but here she was, probably imagining his head on fire or something. 

He clearly had no clue how creative - or resilient the young Uzumaki could be. With a small huff, she pushed herself to her feet, almost tripping in the process. Her hands were balled into fists by her sides and at the moment she looked more feral than a cornered animal. 

“You don’t get to question orders” He replied, wooden totems beginning to peak from the ground once more, “Again.”

Welcome to the ANBU, gaki.

#Yamanaka Ryusui #Yamanaka #Minato #Kushina #the will of fire #story post #dark #dark sarutobi #Jiraiya #you might not like him later though ._.'' #konoha is a tough crowd #this is part 1 #AU ideas #might turn into a verse #who knows

[evitcani-writes]

Don’t Believe the TV: Chapter 2 Draft

Okay, so as it happens, I found an ABSOLUTE jam, so I managed to get through chapter 2. 

[Part 1]

Tentatively calling it, "Pretend Like Way Back When". Check out the last post for the playlist. ;p 

Hope you enjoy it!

--

Taako glared at Kravitz’s reflection in the mirror. “You swear on your life this is temporary, right?”

“Yes,” Kravitz laughed and began brushing bright turquoise into Taako’s wet hair. “It’ll wash out when you take a shower tonight. I’ll wash it out for you if you want.”

“Mm,” Taako hummed, starting on his makeup while Kravitz worked. “Let's call it a date.”

Kravitz snorted and shook his head, smiling genuinely. “I took care of the social media side of things,” he said, finishing with the color. “You’re sick so we’re going to cuddle by the fire with orange juice as far as anyone is concerned.”

That sounds nice, Taako thought as he did his eyes. “Damn it,” he swore, missing the swipe.

“Here,” Kravitz said and took the pencil from him. He smudged at the misplaced swipe and did it perfectly on his first try.

Taako blinked at his reflection. “I thought you had a whole team to do your face. When did they teach you to do makeup?”

“They didn’t,” Kravitz said and did not extrapolate.

Rolling his eyes, Taako finished with his lipstick. He thought it was too heavy a look for a backyard wedding, but Kravitz had insisted it would be fine. Kravitz leaned in to do his own makeup. It was only then that he realized Kravitz’s hair had changed. “Hey, what’s—? Where’d you get long hair from?”

Kravitz huffed a laugh and tied it back in a messy bun. The sides were shaved. “This is my natural hair, Taako,” he told him and then started to unscrew his left hand. He set the prosthetic aside and took another one from his bag.

Taako prodded the one on the hotel vanity, strangely fascinated at how realistic it was. “I wondered this the last time, but you—Why don’t you wear this one all the time? It looks real.”

“It’s stiff,” Kravitz grunted and adjusted the robotic fingers of the prosthetic from his bag. “I only wear it for work.” Taako could hear the joints clicking as they moved, not as quiet as newer models were. He added an upgrade to his mental list of Candlenights presents.

After another flex of his fingers, Kravitz seemed satisfied with it. He stepped back and offered his hand to Taako. Taako took a moment to appreciate how different Kravitz was in beaten dark jeans, a black button up. His prosthetic hand glowed through the seams at the joints and the end of his hair was dyed to match. Even his duffel bag matched his phone case more than the person Taako had come to know.

This was going to be an entirely new experience.

Taako took Kravitz’s hand and slung his purse over his shoulder. He peeked out and made sure the hallway was clear before they made their escape. They hurried away to the elevators. Even with sunglasses and a style unlike the one he normally wore, Taako still feared recognition.

Once they were in the lobby, they easily disappeared to the taxis waiting outside. Kravitz gave the address and then turned to fuss with Taako’s hair as it dried. Taako sighed and let Kravitz do whatever he was doing. “How long’s the drive?” He asked.

“Maybe fifteen minutes,” Kravitz nodded, gesturing to the open fields. “Mama lives in the country. Not far, like I said.” He paused and presented Taako with a pair of fake glasses from his bag.

Taako donned them with a flourish and tilted his head this way and that at Kravitz. “How do I look?”

“Like a wannabe groupie for a boy band,” Kravitz laughed and sat back. “It’s not a bad style,” he added at Taako’s reproachful look. He smiled as he looked Taako over. “Kind of cute.”

At least he didn’t look like Taako, which was the important part. “Well,” he said, gesturing to himself. “Greg here has an image to maintain.”

“You’re going by Greg?” Kravitz scoffed and covered his mouth. Taako recognized this as something only Kravitz did, to bite back his laughter when something delighted him. Keats was not given to laughter.

“Gregory C. Toff,” he said primly, now with the goal of making Kravitz laugh again. He’d been so free with it today. “You gotta problem with my name, handsome?”

“No, no,” Kravitz grinned, mouth still hidden behind his palm. “What, pray tell, is your occupation, Mr. Toff?”

Taako thought for a moment, finger dancing in the air as if he was about to tell Kravitz off. “Chef,” he finally said, poking Kravitz in the chest. “A chef on local access television. ‘Oh, don’t you know who I am? Gregory, you know, from TV?’” Kravitz laughed despite himself and Taako felt satisfied. He wished things could be like this all the time; like it had been when they were kids. He missed everyone they could have been back then. “Hey,” he said, not really sure what he was doing. “Remember when I asked you what your name was? In Mr. Davenport’s class right before lunch?”

“I told you that you already knew it,” Kravitz said, his expression dimming, but only from laughter to something Taako wanted to pretend was affection. “I pretended to be offended you’d forgotten.”

“It was the first time I realized you and him weren’t the same person,” Taako laughed and took out his phone. “You do such a good job at it, pretending,” he said while flipping through old pictures. “Better than the other boys.” There it was, the old picture he’d made Mr. Merle and Mr. Davenport promise to tell no one about. The two old teachers stood in the background, incriminating themselves as much as the others. Lup, Barry, Lucretia, Magnus, Julia, and on either of Taako’s arms, Keats and Kravitz. Keats—cool and collected with his perfect princely smile—and Kravitz—his face half-hidden in laughter in Taako’s hair—both an almost-perfect imitation of the other.

He shoved his phone at Kravitz. “You know, I’ve always wondered—Did you have a name before I asked?” He zoomed in on the collection of albums behind them on Mr. Davenport’s shelf. ‘Greatest Hits of Lenny Kravitz’ stood out among them.

Kravitz tapped the photo so it showed the whole picture again, all of them together and happy. “Does it matter?”

“It matters to me,” Taako said and smiled down at all of those people they could have been. The screen dimmed to black and he looked up at Kravitz. “Doesn’t it matter to you?”

For one, tense moment, he thought Kravitz would pull away again, go cold and disappear under his mask. Instead, he lay his hand over Taako’s. “I’m Kravitz,” he said softly, “and you’re Greg, a chef, my plus-one. Are you a friend or—?” He met Taako’s eyes.

“Lover,” Taako laughed, letting go of the question Kravitz wasn’t ready to answer. “I don’t want anyone trying to play matchmaker with me tonight, my guy.”

“Got it,” Kravitz said and let go of Taako’s hand. His warmth lingered on Taako’s knuckles. “If anyone asks, I’m a musician.”

“You’re a, a what now?” Taako stared at him, too surprised to do more than laugh. “I’ve heard you sing, you’re—”

Terrible, awful, will crack all the champagne glasses, he thought to himself and wondered how Kravitz ever passed off that lie.

Kravitz grinned, putting one finger under Taako’s chin to close his mouth. “Just go with it,” he winked as the taxi rolled to a stop. He opened the door and pulled Taako through, his prosthetic hand cold and inviting. Once they were out, Kravitz turned to pay the driver. They stood at the end of a long, long dirt road on cracked pavement that hadn’t seen repair in at least a decade. He was glad, now, that Kravitz had insisted he wear sneakers and not heels.

Ahead of them was a little house in the middle of rolling fields of wildflowers in colors Taako had never seen. White balloons clung to the old, rusted mailbox and a thousand cars had parked in the field before the driveway. Clouds threatened to douse them all, but it was otherwise more breathtaking than he’d expected.

A little backyard wedding, Taako thought, watching the distant people milling around the front. He’d never been to something so quaint.

He was looking forward to Kravitz guiding him through it.

“Come on, we’ll be late if we don’t get moving,” Kravitz said and took his hand. “You’ll have to meet my uncle. He’d love to talk to you about magic.” Taako held out his hand and let the tips of wheat and flower brush the of his hand. He wondered how they knew not to grow where they wouldn’t hurt them. “Don’t drink the moonshine. It’ll knock you flat on your ass, T—Greg.” He looked up, watching a stray balloon escape into the only tree. It had a tire attached to its most sturdy branch. A tractor rusted against a broken shell of a barn. “Watch what you say around Angus. He’ll see straight through you. Too smart for his own good.”

Had this been where Kravitz went on vacations, on holiday? Was this what Kravitz meant when he said home?

Before he could get too distracted, a crowd of children ran at them, pulling Kravitz away in a cacophony of delighted shrieks. Taako followed along, refusing to help free Kravitz even when Kravitz cast a backwards glance of put-upon misery at him. He grinned the rest of the way down the drive. From there, he was introduced to who Taako thought might be the entire McDonald family and never caught one name.

He’s Kravitz McDonald, he thought to himself. He’d never known Kravitz’s last name.

He managed to find a spot to sit with a gaggle of aunts who asked all the questions that Taako had come to believe aunts would ask. Taako didn’t see Kravitz again until the music started. Mama Kravitz on a piano, under a tent and Kravitz with a violin beside her, playing with his left-hand.

He’s left-handed, he thought to himself.

His new friends in the aunts said, “He’s so talented, that Kravitz.”

“Luckiest man in the world,” Taako dared to say, “Like a dream.” He did not know why he said it except that it was all make-believe; like the proposal the day before.

All went quiet and their eyes turned to the backdoor of the house, to the ivy clinging to its brick and the screen door held aloft by a boy in a bowtie no older than ten.

Sloane McDonald was beautiful. She looked nothing like Kravitz and too much like him all the same. She lifted her dress as the promised rain began to pour. Under the white ruffles were tattered boots and she stepped fearlessly into the beginnings of mud. Her dress soaked the rain to blue, but the sun still shone above her in a halo. Her pin straight hair fell from its delicate bun and she laughed, shaking it and turning to two little girls trying to run under the eaves to hide from the rain. They ran out again and picked up her heavy dress, using it like an umbrella. Together, they bustled down the aisle to Sloane’s soon-to-be-wife.

Taako hadn’t caught the name of the other bride, but liked her just by the way she watched Sloane.

And all through the rain and ceremony, Kravitz and his mother played melodies so sweet that Taako’s heart ached. He remembered that Kravitz had almost missed this, almost missed playing a duet for his sister and all the people who did not need to wipe their eyes for the rain. He, too, had almost Kravitz and not needing to wipe his eyes for the rain.

When the vows had been exchanged, each guest picked up their chair and set it aside. Cousins, aunts, uncles all took out cheap plastic tables and helped rearrange the seating. The rain stopped and Taako took off his shoes like the other guests. Music was changed to a little speaker with a phone nearby.

Kravitz found him at his table of aunts.

“You should have brought him earlier,” they scolded Kravitz, “He could have helped with dinner!”

“If I would have brought him earlier, you all would have kept him busy answering your nosy questions instead of cooking,” he laughed and took Taako’s hand. Taako noticed he was barefoot, too. “I hope they weren’t too much for you to handle, love.”

“They are perfect ladies,” Taako grinned and let himself be taken to wine, to the dance floor. Both of them had been trained to dance, but they didn’t need to. Kravitz put one hand on his shoulder and Taako one arm around Kravitz. They swayed with their wine, watching the other guests. Kravitz told him from their vantage point who everyone was, pointing them out with subtle tips of his glass.

When they ran out of wine and the children had been put to bed in a big room of mattresses, they put their glasses aside and stopped letting everyone tease them about boring. Kravitz twirled him, both of them a little drunk. It started raining again and their feet were covered in mud and grass. He sang along with the song, a soft baritone Taako had never heard before, “We could pretend, like Romeo and Juliet.” His breath smelled like the wine, warm under his ear where his lips kissed Taako’s neck on each word. “We could make some noise, bother the neighbors with the headboard.”

And it was good, the best song Taako had ever heard.

Keats couldn’t sing, but Kravitz could.

It was sure doing some things to Taako he knew it shouldn’t have. “You could take my time, like I’ve been hopin’,” Taako sang, soft and unsure of himself, whispered just for Kravitz.

Kravitz led him off to the barn between knowing looks. He pressed Taako against the side and kissed him senseless, hands down the back of Taako’s jeans. It was no more than kissing, lips and mood buzzing pleasantly. Taako ran his hands through Kravitz’s soft, soft hair. “I’m not fuckin’ you in a barn,” he warned Kravitz with a laugh before going in for another greedy kiss.

“But you want to,” Kravitz said between little kisses.

“Mhm,” Taako said, no hint of shame. Singing wasn’t the only wonderful thing Kravitz could do with his tongue.

Somehow, they ended up in Kravitz’s old room. The taxis refused to come out so far, so late. They’d have to stay until morning. They were both too drunk and tired to do more than messily fit themselves into the single bed, muddy feet staining the sheets.

Taako woke up in the middle of the night, Kravitz’s hot breath against his collarbone and whispered, “Shit,” to the ceiling.

This Kravitz McDonald who could sing and still had a room in his mama’s house and a beautiful sister with a beautiful wife and a family who liked Taako because Kravitz did would be the death of him. He may have, just a little bit, have fallen in love with the heart he could feel in a steady rhythm against his side. Maybe, maybe a little, he’d always loved the arms wrapped around him. Possibly, probably, he was only just realizing he’d been waiting for Kravitz to fall in love with him first.

And he hadn’t.

Taako squeezed his eyes shut. “Idiot,” he told himself.

#taakitz #taako #kravitz #fake dating au #cyborg clone monarchy revolution au #taz #The Adventure Zone #the adventure zone: balance #taz balance #writing #my writing #don't believe what's on tv

[tetrakys]

Captor and Captive -pt.2

I don’t know what to say... this thing has so many ff warnings... think about one (explicit, cheating, dub con, kidnapping...) and it’s probably in here, so you are advised.  If you decide to read it, 1000 brownie points to whoever figure out where the interrogation scene I shamelessly copied took inspiration from comes from.

Here is part 1 in case you missed it.

I had never written anything so nsfw before, I blame it on Lance’s evil hotness.

Forgive me father for I have sinned.

I woke to the sound of sea waves and the sensation of being gently cradled in a very soft bed. For a moment it felt really nice and I thought about sleeping a little longer, but when I tried to roll onto my side I realised that my hands were bound tightly at the wrists, above my head, and I could hardly move.

I opened my eyes and the first thing I saw was a low wooden ceiling. I realised I was in the cabin of a boat and immediately remembered everything that had happened before. I had been kidnapped.

Ashkore… Lance, with a knife at my throat had made his way out of HQ down to the beach. Enthraa had betrayed us, she was on his side and had helped him escape. She had also knocked me unconscious when I had fought with all my strength to run off the boat when I had seen that sea monster grabbing…  a heavy weight settled in my heart. No, I wouldn’t think the worst. I saw Miiko and everyone else rush into the water before falling unconscious. Everything was all right. He was all right.

But I hurt, and it was only partially connected to my kidnapping and its disastrous consequences. No, the real reason was that I remembered what had happened before Lance had pointed that knife at me. His words had cut deep into me. He was a murderer, I hated him, but everything he had said made so fucking sense that it was making me sick just thinking about it. And it wasn’t because of his attempt at manipulating me, no, I could see right through that… the reason was that, deep within me, I agreed with everything he had said. I’d also been thinking every single one of the points he had made many, many times since I’d landed in Eldarya.

Eldarya had been created through the sacrifice of two entire races, whose consent I was seriously starting to question.

The Guard of Eel’s main solution to solve any problem was kill first ask questions later. They had killed anyone infected by the Christal without really trying to save them first. They had been one step to kill Colaia without even knowing if she was infected or not.

And me… they had used me as a bait more times than I could count. Lied so much that I hardly knew what was real anymore. And they had taken away my family from me. I acted like I was at peace with it now, but I wasn’t okay. I wasn’t okay at all.

Yes, Lance was right about pretty much everything he had said, but this didn’t mean I had to agree with his methods. He had too much blood on his hands.

And yet you seemed to like those hands quite a bit, didn’t you? A small voice in my head said, and I blushed despite myself.

I had allowed him to touch me, kiss me… I thought he was bound by Miiko’s spell but he had been able to move all along, he’d had every chances to kill me and escape quickly, instead he had used that precious time to… do what exactly? Mess up with my mind and my body? I had to figure out what was his game, and fast.

I tried to free my hands, but it was pointless, they were tightly tied to what was probably the bed’s headboard. I tried to look around the room as much as my position allowed, luckily my head was resting on a thick (and very comfortable) cushion.

I found him crouched in the corner of the room, staring at me. Or, at least, I thought he was staring. He was wearing his mask again, those red cruel eyes pointed at me. Now that I knew who and what he was, it was very easy to recognise the dragon design, it had been under our noses all this time.

“Where am I?” I asked coldly.

“You’re my guest” he simply replied.

“What happened to the others?”

“You mean the murderers, traitors and thieves you call friends? You’d be relieved to hear they are all well, even your precious boyfriend.”

I felt the heavy weight leave my heart, relieved I just looked at him in silence, while he stared right back at me.

“You still want to fight me” he said after a while.

“That happen when you are kidnapped by a creature in a mask. And you were more than ready to kill me in order to escape, don’t even try to deny it.”

He paused at my words, then stood up and removed his mask, and I saw his face again. Icy cold eyes that had looked into me deeper than anyone ever had before. Big, straight lips that I knew were both rigid and soft and gave him a severe look. Twin scars on his nose that didn’t take anything away from his looks and probably, in a strange way, even enhanced it. Short wild hair that a small crazy part of me was dying to feel under my fingers. I looked away quickly, pointing my gaze back to the ceiling.

“I thought you might feel more comfortable if I wore the mask, since you’ve known me longer with this face, I guess it doesn’t matter.” I heard the sound of his mask being placed on a piece of furniture somewhere in the room. “But you are 100% right, I was ready to kill you without a second thought.”

I wasn’t surprised at all, but still…

“I wouldn’t have enjoyed it though,” he continued “I’m taking a like to you. But the mission is more important than you or me for that matter. Nothing can come in between.”

“Why am I here?” it was pointless to argue with a madman. Better to cut to the chase.

“We were in the middle of something before we were so rudely interrupted.”

My eyes snapped back to his, astonished. He got to be kidding me… was he really thinking about… after almost killing me??

He smirked, quite amused by the situation.

“I’m not talking about that… even though I’m looking forward to pick up to where we left off. No, I’m talking about our game.”

“What?”

“An answer for an answer. That was the deal.”

I was amazed by his single-mindedness and all around assholness.

“Go to hell Lance, I’m done playing your games.”

“Oh, I’m definitely going to hell, but not before I’m done taking Eldarya and everyone else with me. Everything is ready, the chessboard is set and I know everything I need about all the pieces involved... except for one, you. I don’t know what’s your role into this. Are you going to destroy my plan? Could you be useful to me, instead? You are a mystery, an unknown variable, and I don’t like to be in the dark. So, as you wish, I’ll go straight to the point: what are you?”

So that was it, he wanted to know my faelian race. What would he do with the information? I had told Miiko but I was starting to regret the decision I made. Valkyon knew it too though, and this already made two people in in the secret. How long before the news spread? I thought I could trust them, but at this point I didn’t know who to trust anymore, if anyone.

“I’m not telling you anything” I said in between my teeth.

“You have a connection with the Oracle and the Crystal” he continued, ignoring my words. He paused, and looking at me from head to toes, in a low voice added “you know I can take whatever I want.”

I just stared at him, unflinchingly.

“I have many ways to make you talk. Most of them are really painful, but many, believe me, you would enjoy quite a bit” he said raising an eyebrow, with a mischievous smile. “Of course, I could also get a truth serum and either force or trick you into drinking it, but that’s not really my style. That’s more like your Guard’s buddies.”

I flinched at those words, he knew he had hit the nail in the head.

“You keep protecting lowlifes who have done nothing but lie and hurt you, and that’s me the one you keep looking with hate?”

“That’s because I do hate you. You’re a monster” I spitted out.

He grabbed a dagger, the same one he had threatened me with just a few hours before, and came closer, standing right above me, pointing it at my heart.

“Tell me, then” I could feel the cold point lightly piercing through my clothes, “why did you let this hateful monster touch you?”

I… had no idea how to reply to this question.

“No words? Then, answer this, why did you enjoy it?”

“I didn’t” I growled.

“Erika…” he said in an admonishing tone “we agreed to be honest with each other.”

“I am, I didn’t like it one bit.”

He just stared at me coldly for a moment, then he smirked and with a quick move of the dagger, cut my shirt from neck to bottom. I drew my breath surprised.

He jumped on the bed straddling my hips, one hand was at the side of my head, the other grabbed my chin, so that I was forced to look directly at him, “We are going to play a new game. Every time you lie to me you’ll be punished; every time you say the truth you’ll be rewarded.”

“Wha…”

Removing his hand from my chin, he took the dagger again and pointed it at my throat. Then he lowered it, slowly, the point lightly grazing my skin. He moved it down on my chest, between my breasts still covered by my shredded tunic, on my belly, up to my navel. His eyes followed fascinated the movements of the dagger on my skin.

I should have been terrified, scared out of my mind… but I wasn’t. I was starting to understand the twisted ways his brain worked. Everything he did, all his killings, were either calculated moves towards his goal, or caused by the hate he felt for the Guard. He didn’t see me as part of the Guard, he didn’t hate me, so unless he thought I was a hindrance to his plans I was safe. Probably.

So I stared him straight in his face, seemingly unimpressed, and said “are you planning to cut me into pieces to make me talk?”

He moved the knife back up, using it to uncover one breast, and aimed the cold pointed tip to my nipple, which instantly hardened at the touch. He finally raised his eyes to meet mine, “And ruin this perfect body?” he said with a mischievous smile, “as I said, I have other ways to make you talk.”

Dropping the knife to the floor, he lowered his head to my breast and took it into his mouth, sucking and biting on my nipple with strength. I hissed and tried to move away, but his hand came to my other breast grabbing roughly and pinching my nipple between his cold fingers. It was a strange sensation, painful at first, but the more he licked and touched, other feelings came in, and he skilfully kept me there, at the threshold between pain and pleasure.

“So, let me reformulate the question” he said after a minute, “do you like it when I touch you?”

“No” I replied mustering all my strength.

“No?” he asked doubtful. Fucking asshole, he knew perfectly well what he was doing to me, with an evil smile he latched to my breast again, this time licking and touching less roughly, and my back instinctively arched from the sensation, pressing into his mouth further. It was good, oh so good. He moved to the other breast and started licking and sucking there too, while his hand went to the one he had just left, grabbing and massaging with care.

He stopped again and I almost growled in displeasure, he just smirked and said “Well, Erika… let’s try again. Do you like to be touched by me?”

I didn’t understand what was wrong with me, I was not supposed to like it, but I did, and wanted, no… needed more. I mumbled some unintelligible sounds.

“What?” he asked, his hands both on my breasts massaging lightly in soft motions that weren’t nearly close enough to what I really needed. So, I gave him a small nod.

“With words Erika.”

“Yes, okay? Yes, I like it! I hate you, but I like it when you touch me… are you happy now?” I replied angrily.

“Almost…” he said in a mocking tone. He looked at his own hands still massaging my chest “I really love these” he said squeezing just a little “so round and soft… and so responsive… I’d keep playing with them the whole day” he added almost lovingly. Then he looked me back in the eye and said “See? I am always sincere, I have no problem admitting that your body makes me crazy. Why did you lie?”

“Fuck you.” I spat out irritated. One thing was fucking with my body, the other was doing the same with my head.

He tsk amused. “You and I both know the answer, but I want to hear you say it out loud. Let’s see… what should I do… tell me, what would you like me to do now?”

“Die.”

He just looked at me bemused for a moment, then said “you lied again”, and raised on his knees. With a strong and fluid movement, he turned me down on my belly, so that now I rested on all four on my elbows and knees, my head on my tied hands. I was about to protest when, with another quick movement, he tore my pants and underwear away, leaving me completely exposed.

 He opened my legs and settled between them, now there was no way I could hide the evidence of my arousal. I silently waited for him to word whatever diabolical idea he had in mind, but for a moment he just stood there, still and silent as well. Then, I felt a sound and a stinging pain on my ass.

Had he just… spanked me?!

I froze in shock and felt him massaging my ass sweetly, that was… nice. But between a caress and light pinch he alternated unyielding hits across my bottom. The duality of the two opposite sensations was doing strange things to me, my skin was hot and I knew I was completely drenched down there. He must have noticed too because, after a few minutes, I heard him whisper “Your body is a work of art…” while massaging my bottom kindlier than he probably had intended. His fingers came between my cheeks and started caressing down towards my folds. Once at the entrance he slipped a finger inside me and I couldn’t help but moan at the sensation.

“You are fucking perfect…” he said while slowly moving his finger out of me, and then back in, he was silent for a few seconds and I knew must have been watching attentively the spot where our bodies met. “What the hell are you doing to me?” he added in a low voice.

What was… I… doing to him?

“I must taste you… fuck, I have to… but first tell me why you lied to me, or I’ll stop right now.”

I wanted to tell him to go to hell… I really wanted to, but a part of me really, really wanted him to keep doing whatever he wanted to me. I felt him add another finger and I almost lost my mind, while he started moving his hand faster.

“Tell me…” he said while his thumb hovered on my clit, like a promise, and that was my undoing.

“I’m feeling guilty!” I cried panting, “I love someone, or… I think I do… but the things you do… what I feel… I’ve never felt like this before, not with him, not with anyone else!”

“Good girl” he said, but I could hear that his tone had lost most of the amusement and coldness he had portrayed up until that moment, he was probably as affected by the situation as I was.

“Here is your reward” and I felt him grab my ass with both hands and his tongue lick a path from my clit to my core, plunging into me. The orgasm took me by surprise, it was strong and earth-shattering, and I felt my legs give in.

He quickly grabbed me by the waist and gently helped me settle down, laying on the bed. His tongue came up, licking my bottom where it still hurt a bit from the strong hits he had given me before. He licked and left small kisses up along my back on my spine, up to my neck, until I felt him settle above me, resting on his side, hugging me closer to him, my back to his chest. It was… nice being completely enveloped by him. I was going crazy.

I was still panting, coming down from my high, when I felt his hard shaft between my ass cheeks, moving up and down in slow rhythmic motions. Then his lips at my ear, as he whispered

“You taste amazing” he licked the outer of my ear, sending shivers running down my spine “and you have nothing to feel guilty about, your body is yours to do whatever pleases you with it. No one is worth denying yourself something you desire, especially not someone who has tricked and lied to you constantly. And this” he added, emphasising his words with the rocking of his hips “is something you want, isn’t it?”

He licked my neck and I stopped caring about anything that wasn’t him, his tongue, his hands, his words… and everything his body was promising me.  

“Yes…” I said breathless, and he entered me slowly.

Hi was big… so big… and hard… I closed my eyes, lost in the incredible sensation. We both moaned at the feeling of him burying deeply into me, and for the first exquisite moments we just stayed like that, resting partially on our sides, him moving slowly into me while his arm hugged me closer to him.

Soon, though, his thrusts became rougher, more erratic, and he pushed me flat into the mattress, settling completely on top of me, almost but not completely crushing me with his weight. His hands were rough as one came around me to grasp one breast with strength, and the other grabbed my throat, as he pushed hard his shaft in me and I pushed my hips back against him.

“Untie me…” I panted. “I… I need to touch you… Lance… please…”

“Say my name again…” he said, as out of breath as I was.

“Lance…”

A moment later, I didn’t know how, my hands were free. I felt him leaving my body, but in a quick movement he turned me on my back and entered me again. I wrapped my legs tightly around his hips, my breasts rocking in rhythm with the headboard rocking against the wall as he groaned and pounded forcefully into me.

Now that we were facing I could clearly see him, completely undone by what we were doing together, his usually cold blue eyes shining with passion, and his lips… so close to mine. My hands went to his hair, that were as soft as I had imagined, and pushed his face towards mine, my mouth crushing down on his.

I could tell he was surprised by me taking the initiative, but he soon recovered and kissed me with all he had got. Which it was a lot. His lips took control of mine devouring me, and I came undone again, this orgasm even stronger than the first. The pleasure seemed to extend forever, but when I finally came back to earth I saw him looking at me with wonder in his eyes, and when our gazes locked he came too, with a strength that seemed to take him by surprise, and once he was done he crushed over me.

I found myself lightly caressing his back with my nails, while he recovered his strength.

“I… I’ve never felt…” I could tell that he was confused and didn’t know how to express himself. His head buried between my neck and shoulder.

“That was… you must be an angel…”

I froze at those words, and he noticed. Crap. He was probably just trying to pay me a compliment and I…

He raised his head, his eyes met mine, and I knew I had completely given me away, a slow mischievous smile formed on his lips.

“You are an aengel?!”

#eldarya #ashkore #lance #eldarya 25 #eldarya episode 25 #my writing