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a-m-pyra · 2 months

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The City of Intrigues: 7. The Wolf Among us

The door of the black Ford opened, and the metal heel hit the gravel road. She put her tinted glasses on and slammed the door, finally turning towards Chesh, who was standing straight by the door.

“I saw Venigni's car,” she said, walking hand in hand with him. “What did he want?”

“Mechanical little birds told me that he want to talk to you.”

“To me?” she asked, and Chesh nodded. “That’s interesting.”

They approached the door where a security guard was standing.

“Good evening, manager.”

“You look good, Orso.”

“Just like you.”

She smiled at him, and Chesh opened the door for her. Immediately the music started playing, and they passed several men who were talking at the reception desk.

“Mr. Manus.”

The man turned around. She took off her glasses and looked at him coldly, almost making it hard for him to look her in the eyes.

“Long time no see.” She smiled at him. “How's the situation in the mires? I heard people drop like flies there. Or they turn into strange creatures.”

“Is that so? And how does the manager know all this?”

“That's my job, to know.” She winked at him and put her glasses back on her nose, walking into a room full of people dancing and sitting at the bar and tables along with the escorts.

“There's a lot of them here, considering the Puppet Frenzy is still going on.”

“They feel safe there. Are you complaining?”

“No.”

She overtook him and walked over to one of the tables, leaning over one of the escorts - a blonde in an elegant dress who was smoking a cigarette in a silver-plated pipe.

“Hi sweetie. Would you be so kind as to come to my office in a moment, wouldn't you?”

“Of course, manager.”

She patted her lightly on the shoulder and immediately went with Chesh to the office, where she sat down at the desk and immediately played the surveillance footage, in which she could easily spot Wilton Radcliffe, who was walking towards the entrance with a cane.

They heard a knock on the door. Lydia, the escort, came inside and, with permission, sat down in front of the desk.

“Lydia, as you know, you are the most precious of our ladies.” She crossed her legs and clasped her hands. “Your intelligence skills are superior to any of yours. That’s why you will take care of this man,” she turned the monitor towards her, “and extract all information from him, including his whereabouts.”

“He’s guilty of something, right?”

“You have no idea of how many, honey.”

Lydia looked at the man again, then nodded.

“I'll keep an eye out, manager.”

“Great.” She gestured towards the door, allowing her to leave.

When Lydia disappeared from the office, she looked at her watch and reached into the drawer, taking something out after a few moments. Then she rose from her seat, wordlessly walking down the stairs to the first floor, where the entire party was taking place.

With her eyes, she managed to locate the man she was looking for. She sat down at the table, deterring thus one of the ladies. They were both silent for a moment until she placed the card face down on the table.

“There's something in the fucking air here.” She put her glasses on the table and reached for a glass, pouring some whiskey into it. “Don't you think so, Mr. Venigni?”

Venigni turned the card over, noticing The Tower on the obverse.

“I think so, Mrs. Coral.”

Pinocchio passed by his father's office, trying to sneak out of the hotel quietly and go straight to the Seymour-Hargreaves estate to talk to Alice - when he followed the guards into the archives, Alice and Chesh were long gone. Although he was relieved when it turned out that they had managed to get what they wanted without getting caught, he wanted to know what exactly they had found.

His father didn't want to tell him what was missing from the archives, and Alice didn't show up at the hotel to explain everything to him. Neither Sophia, Eugénie, Pollendina, nor even Venigni — and Venigni would certainly have told if something had happened, adding a sarcastic remark about some flirtation — did not mention anyone trying to contact him.

Only Gemini seemed angry that he had been left at the hotel without an explanation — and although Gemini vehemently denied that he wasn’t angry at all, he could hear the note of annoyance in his voice.

Pinocchio wanted to start a conversation on this topic, but before he could say anything, he heard the loud sound of something heavy falling to the floor. P hesitated whether he should check what happened.

“I understand that the girl is waiting, my pal, but we should check what happened.”

Pinocchio grimaced at the sarcasm, but he listened to Gemini and opened the door to Geppetto's office as he was picking up a box of old parts from the floor.

“Everything's all right?”

Geppetto looked at him, then at the floor, and gave him a crooked smile.

“Of course, son. It's just a scorpion, no big deal.”

Pinocchio looked at the creature smashed on the floor and thought of Mrs. Seymour's scorpion, which lazily walked across her arms, its black carapace shining in the light of the chandelier.

“I'll ask Pollendina to clean it up.”

“Of course,” he grunted, and was about to leave, but Geppetto anticipated him.

“Are you going somewhere?”

“Puppets won’t fight themselves.”

The lie came easily to him, and although he felt bad at first for lying to his father, this lie seemed to work.

Lying to other people's faces seemed less wrong than lying to his own father.

“Of course, son. Take care of yourself and… be a good boy, okay?”

P nodded, barely noticing something was happening to the floor where the crushed scorpion still lay.

“I'll tell Pollendina right away to clean it up…”

“Thank you, son.”

P went up the stairs to the first floor, asking Pollendina to help Geppetto clean up his office. He agreed — although he had no other choice — and immediately went to help. Meanwhile, Pinocchio looked at Sophia, who was smiling slightly at him.

“Something has changed in you in these few days.”

“And Spring seems to be starting to tolerate me.”

“So she feels it too.” Sophia smiled much wider. “Be careful.”

He nodded and walked over to the Stargazer, which allowed him to travel near the Seymour-Hargreaves estate.

He saw that there was only one room lit up in the manor — the living room. The guards let him in despite the late hour, which meant Seymour had to reprogram her puppets.

When he entered, he immediately heard sirens singing, echoing throughout the quiet first floor. He immediately knew it was Mrs. Seymour's voice — after listening to all the albums — and Love Letters From The Void even several times — it wasn’t a problem for him. Words were a problem, because the language was completely foreign to him — it wasn't French, it wasn't English, and it certainly wasn't Italian. But he knew from the sound that it was a lullaby, and after a moment he saw that Seymour was sitting on the sofa, with Alice lying curled up next to her as Seymour's fingers ran through her hair.

She noticed him and stopped singing, causing Alice to open her eyes and sit up, tucking her legs under her.

“Tell me what happened?”

“He was familiar with Geppetto.”

Pinocchio felt deeply offended. After a moment, however, he understood what she meant.

“The guards took me to my father's office. There… he hugged me and told me he knew I wasn't the one who killed the whistleblower.”

“It sounds like you want to say something else,” Alice muttered, rubbing her arm.

He lowered his head.

“He told me not to hang out with you.”

Alice pursed her lips and turned away.

“And yet here you are,” Alex said, stealing a glance at the lamp at his side.

“Because he usually doesn't do what Geppetto wants him to do,” a voice said, and Seymour smiled slightly.

“I knew someone was there.” She laughed, and P unfastened the lamp from his belt and set it on the table.

“It's Gemini. My…guide.”

“It's so nice to meet you, Gemini.”

“Thank you, nice to meet you too. Pal, you should apologize.”

"There's no need to. I and Chesh made it. We found documents about Radcliffe, a report on the first day of the Puppet Frenzy, and documents from Simon Manus' company winning the tender.

“What tender?”

“For vaccines against petrification disease. The same ones that drug addicts in the city get high on. And the ones we saw at Fenati's,” Alice said.

“And the ones that somehow make people sicker and sicker with that shit,” Alex added. “And you won't believe what's in them.”

P raised eyebrows, and Alice and Alex looked at each other.

“Most of it is Ergo, the rest of the ingredients can be compared to sedation. Hence, the high aggression at first, and then the trip. And the more Ergo there is in the city…”

“The more cases of petrification disease,” he finished, and Seymour smiled broadly.

#Noir AU #alice madness returns #american mcgee's alice #alice liddell #oc: alex seymour #lies of p #pinocchio lies of p #alice x pinocchio #p x alice #fanfiction #archive of our own #ao3fic #alice madness returns oc #alice madness returns fanfiction #american mcgee's alice oc #american mcgee's alice fanfiction #lies of p fanfic

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azaleaniath · 1 year

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I cant stop thinking about cuddling with merlin in his twin bed cause it’s so small and you’d be so close to each other. bonus points if it’s winter and you’re just holding each other in warmth. maybe a merlin x reader based on this.

Sounds nice! I've decided to keep it a bit shorter but I hope it's still to your liking~

Thanks for the request!

_____________

Merlin x reader

includes: freezing, sharing a bed, cuddling, fluff

word count: 700

______________

"(Y/N)?" a soft voice whispered to wake you up.

"(Y/N), hey..." it was Merlin's voice that spoke to you.

One of his hands rested on your shoulder, gently shaking your upper body.

As you opened your eyes you saw Merlin sitting on the edge of his bed, which you were currently laying in.

Realisation hit you soon.

"Oh god, I fell asleep in your bed, I'm sorry!" You sat up straight, wanting to get up, but he stopped you.

"It's alright, you can sleep here. I just wanted to let you know that I'm back."

Nonetheless, you got up and apologized once more. Through the window you could see that it was still night.

"How late is it?" you asked while rubbing your eyes and yawning loudly. Without the blanket, it was freezing cold.

He took off his boots and his belt. "It's very early in the morning. We probably have six more hours before we have to get up."

As he saw you shivered, he patted his pillow with a smile.

"You can continue to sleep here. It's no problem."

You huffed, hugging youself as you felt the cool air around you. "And you? You're sleeping where? Not on the floor, only over my dead body."

"I mean, we could share it?"

Was this supposed to be a joke?

Back in Ealdor, you had often done that, when you were younger. But now that you both were grown up, the thought of that was... weird.

But not in a bad way.

"Wouldn't be the first time. We survived cold winters like that many times, (Y/N)."

Your eyes shifted from him to the bed and back to him, a heatwave hit your cheeks. With furrowed eyebrows you obversed his face.

"... Are you serious?"

He laughed, then got comfortable in his bed, leaving some space for you.

"Of course. Come here, I won't hurt you."

Still you held yourself back.

"That bed is way too small, Merlin. There is no way-"

"We'll manage."

The man held the blanket open, and after consideration, you cuddled yourself into his bed.

You turned your back to him so he wouldn't see your blushing face.

As soon as you had joined him, he pulled the blanket up to your neck.

"Merlin, if I move one muscle, I'll fall off the edge."

He sighed, placed an arm around your waist and pulled you closer.

You swallowed as his breath hit the back of your neck. Goosebumps covered your entire body as you felt him pressing his body against yours. Not like you were uncomfortable with that, but having him so close was something you hadn't felt in the last seven years.

He grew up into a handsome young man. He wasn't the small boy that left Ealdor anymore.

"Are you still cold?"

Merlin mumbled, to which you slowly nodded.

It took some confidence to turn around in his embrace, but then you cuddled yourself against the man, hiding you face under his chin.

"I'm sorry I fell asleep in your bed earlier, that was selfish."

Shortly after that, you could feel one of his hands caressing your hair slowly. It felt weirdly good to have him so close.

"I offered you to rest in here, there is nothing to apologize for. I should be the one thanking you for keeping it warm for me."

You giggled at the thought of that, and he carefully placed a soft kiss on your hair. This caused you to only blush even more. All your childhood long you had always seen him like a big brother, but growing up had changed a lot. For him and for you.

"Do me a favour, will you?" you asked quietly, to wich he just nodded.

"Promise me to take a bath some time."

A giggle escaped his lips, and he immediately contaminated you with it, causing the same reaction.

"It's not that bad!" he defended himself laughing, but you only cuddled yourself against him further.

"Trust me, it is."

#merlin #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #merlin fanfic #merlin oneshot #merlin x reader

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therainroguefanfiction · 3 years

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Frightful October ’21 🎃 #12 ~ Spilled the Salt (Nakagoshi)

Genre: Fluff, Slice of Life, Romance

Word Count: 2,258

Pairing: Reader x Nakagoshi

World: High&Low

Table of Contents

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You stretched your arms above your head, hearing your back crack. Though there wasn’t much schooling that went on at Oya high school, you still had to spend the better part of the day there, surrounded by a bunch of meatheads trying to fight anything that breathes. It was annoying honestly and you were happy to be free.

A hand slid into your own and you smiled, looking over at your boyfriend as he chatted excitedly with Nakaoka about the fight he had won during lunch, putting an overly zealous first year in his place. The three of you were heading to the diner to grab some food after school just as you did nearly every day. It had become somewhat of a ritual by this point.

You suppressed a shiver as the wind picked up, rushing forward to enter Mia’s diner. The bell above the door chimes and a blast of warm air hit you, along with the smell of food which made your stomach growl in appreciation. You led the boys to the back of the room where your usual booth sat in the corner. They didn’t really care where they sat, but you enjoyed the seclusion the corner booth offered while still allowing you to obverse the other guests around you. You were the kind of person that preferred to observe rather than be on the front lines of things.

Nakagoshi sat by the window while you sat beside him and Nakaoka sat across from you, his back to the door. You took notice of the young waitress fixing her hair and checking her lip-gloss before she approached your table, a pen, and pad in her hand. She kept glancing at Nakaoka with a shy smile on her lips.

“Good afternoon. Do you want the usual or are you feeling something different today?”

Nakagoshi put his arms around your shoulder, looking at you. “What are you getting, baby?”

You hummed, quietly scanning the menu. “I think I’ll go with my usual, please.”

“Okay! One cheeseburger, no onions, with onion rings and a Dr. Pepper.” She didn’t even have to write it down, having memorized it considering how many times you had ordered it.

“I’ll have the same,” Nakagoshi started with a smile. “But with -“

“A coke instead of Dr. Pepper because it tastes like medicine.” She smiled, earning a laugh from your boyfriend and a scowl from you.

“You just can’t appreciate the incredible taste that is Dr. Pepper. You’re not refined enough.”

“Don’t get mad,” he pouted, poking your cheek as he fought back a smile. “I will buy you all the Dr. Pepper you want, just as long as you don’t make me drink it.”

“You better.” You nudged him softly, a smile sliding onto your lips.

“And you, Nakaoka-san?” she questioned softly, brushing a piece of stray hair behind her ear. She noticed how his eyes darted back and forth across the menu. “Do you need a minute?”

He looked up at her through the lenses of his purple-tinted glasses. “Is the steak burger any good? I’ve wanted to try it for a while.”

You scoffed in amusement. “He contemplates ordering it every single time we come here but he always chickens out.”

“I don’t chicken out,” he scowled at you. “I just don’t wanna waste food, okay?”

“Sure, sure.”

She smiled. “Well, I’ve never tried it myself but it’s one of our most popular items, so we must be doing something right.”

“What do you recommend?” he questioned, looking up into her eyes, causing her cheeks to burn and her eyes to flicker down to the menu.

“Oh, um… t-the chicken burger is quite good.”

“Cool. I’ll try that, then.”

As she collected the menus, their hands touched and the two of them froze, staring at each other as if the rest of the world had melted away and no longer existed. You nudged your boyfriend to get his attention before jerking your head toward the pair. He folded his arms on the table, grinning at you.

“Did I look that dumb when we first met?”

“Yes.”

“Ouch,” his nose wrinkled as he feigned hurt. “No hesitation. You’re so brutal.”

You chuckled, leaning over to rest your chin on his upper arm. “But you also looked pretty cute, in your own goofy way. If you hadn’t stared at me for so long every time you saw me, I doubt I would have paid you much mind.”

“You were the most beautiful human being I’ve ever seen,” he replied softly, looking deeply into your eyes so you could see the sincerity of his words. “You still are.”

The corner of your lips twitched up. “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

“I’m not beautiful, I’m handsome.”

“You’re both.”

“How is that even possible?”

“You defy all possibility.”

The two of you were slowly leaning closer, lips just barely ghosting against each other.

“Gross. Get a room, you two, before I lose my appetite.”

Nakagoshi pulled back with a scowl. Nakaoka was looking at the two of you with a disgusted expression as he held his drink and the waitress was on the opposite side of the room, tending to a family of five. The drinks you all had ordered were now on the table, sitting atop small paper coasters.

“Hey, we didn’t interrupt your little staring match with the waitress, did we?” Nakagoshi complained.

You nodded, reaching for your drink. “That’s right, and it was super gross. It looked like you were trying to devour each other with your eyes.”

His cheeks flushed and he shifted. “W-What are you two talking about? That didn’t even happen.”

“You should ask her out,” you commented as you watched her chatting with a buff teenage boy that looked as if he lived for sports. “She’s really pretty and nice, so you know she gets a lot of attention, but she seems to like you for some reason.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I bet she has loads of offers.”

Nakaoka bit his lip, turning in the booth so he could look at her. “Do you really think I have a chance with her, Y/N?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Nakagoshi retorted, balling up the straw wrapper so he could toss it at his friend. “I didn’t have a chance with Y/N when we met, but I made a chance and it worked out.”

“You miss a hundred percent of the shots you don’t take,” you quoted, holding up your finger and earning a raised brow from your boyfriend.

“Isn’t that about baseball?”

“Yeah, so? It still applies, you know.”

Nakaoka took a deep breath, looking between the two of you. “Okay… okay, you’re right. I’m gonna do it.”

“Go get 'em!” You grinned as he got up, nervously crossing the room toward her. You rested your head against your boyfriend’s shoulder. “They grow up so fast, don’t they?”

He just laughed at you, putting one arm around you while he reached for his drink with the other. His attention was focused on his best friend and he wasn’t paying attention so he missed the drink entirely, his hand knocking off the salt shaker, causing salt to spill out across the table.

“Ooo, that’s bad luck, you know,” you stated, giving him a pointed look.

“How is that bad luck?”

“Just is. You better toss some of that over your shoulder to counteract the bad.”

He rolled his eyes, sweeping the salt onto a napkin. “That’s ridiculous.”

“For your sake, I hope you’re right, baby.” You hummed, looking away when he scowled at you.

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You frowned at the clock on your phone before looking around for any sign of your boyfriend. Since you both lived in opposite directions, you always met up in front of the convenience store before walking together to Oya high, but school would be starting soon and he was nowhere in sight. He hadn’t texted you, either. You’d think being late at such a mess of a school wouldn’t matter but, to Murayama, the school’s leader, it was a big deal. He didn’t like it when the full-time students missed class, even though there was never much learning going on anyway.

The autumn wind kicked up and you stepped back against the building, pulling your jacket tighter around your body as you dialed his number for the tenth time, listening to the ringing that seemed to go on for ages. Just as you started to pull the phone from your ear, you heard your boyfriend’s groggy voice come over the line with a simple, “What?“

“Naka… did you just wake up?” you questioned in disbelief.

“You just woke me up,” he yawned loudly. “What’s goin’ on?“

You glanced at the time again. “School started five minutes ago.”

“Eh?” There was rustling on the other end of the line before he cursed loudly. “Shit, I’ll be right there!“

The line went dead, making you sigh as you continued to wait in the cold.

Ten minutes passed before he finally appeared, breathing heavily as he came to a stop in front of you. His clothes had been hastily thrown on, belt unbuckled, jacket half on, and his hairband clutched in his hand. His hair stuck up in all directions, bangs falling into his eyes without the hairband holding them up, and there were dark bags beneath his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he huffed. “It took me ages to get to sleep and my alarm didn’t go off.”

You frowned at his appearance, sweeping your hand beneath his bangs. At first, you thought it was just the shadow from his hair, but it wasn’t – a large bruise covered his left eye, deep purple and yellowing at the edges. “Babe, what happened?”

He looked away in embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah… when I got home last night, my mom made me clean up some soil that a stray cat spilled when it knocked over her plant. The cat was on the shelf, hiding behind another plant and I didn’t see it until the broom hit the shelf, making it hiss. It startled me so I… screamed, which scared the cat. The damn thing jumped off the shelf and used my face as a damn springboard.

You tried not to laugh but your lips twitched up. “I’m sorry. Are you telling me that a cat gave you a black eye?”

He scowled at you, cheeks tinted with pink. “You tell no one of this.”

“I dunno, I think the rest of the second years would love this story.”

“Shaddup. It could have happened to anyone, you know.”

“Or maybe just to someone that spilled the salt,” you teased, earning a pointed look from your boyfriend.

“Not that shit again. It was a freak thing, Y/N, not bad luck.”

“Like you being unable to sleep and your alarm conveniently not going off?”

“You’re impossible” Shaking his head, he slipped his other arm through his jacket and fixed the band in his hair as he started in the direction of school. You chuckled, following after him.

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Nakagoshi scowled at the broom in his hand. The only time Oya was ever cleaned was when the students pissed off Murayama, but not quite to the degree where they deserved their skull punched in. Personally, he didn’t get it. The main thing Oya students learned was how to fight and defend themselves, getting stronger to climb the ranks. There was the occasional teacher foolish enough to attempt teaching the students useful information, but that was few and far between. What did it matter if he was late to class? Murayama himself hadn’t arrived until well afternoon. Yet here he was, forced to clean one of many trashed classrooms.

He glanced over at you on the other end of the room, your tongue sticking out from the corner of your mouth as you attempted to scrub some expletive off of the wall. It wasn’t working since it had been painted on, but that didn’t dissuade you. You were at war with the accursed scribblings and you intended to win. His scowl turned into a frown and he rested his hands on top of the broom, his chin atop his hands.

“Hey, Y/N?”

You didn’t look away from your work. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

That made you pause, turning to look at him with a frown. “What for?”

“You waited for me this morning. Now you’re being punished.”

You chuckled, setting the rag down before approaching him, arms around his neck. “As long as you’re here with me, I would gladly spend an eternity here.”

“Sounds cheesy.” But his lips twitched up all the same, his eyes shining with love and warmth. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Nakagoshi leaned in to kiss you, releasing his grip on the broom. It clattered to the ground behind him before bouncing up, landing a firm hit on the back of his knee. He cried out, more in surprise than pain, before turning to glare at the broom, but his foot slipped out from beneath him, sending him falling onto his back on the floor. He blinked up at the ceiling.

“How in the hell -“

You leaned over him, not concealing your smirk. “How’s that bad luck treating you, babe?”

He groaned, covering his face with his hand. He was starting to believe that you might just be onto something. Not that he’d ever admit that out loud, especially not to you. He’d never hear the end of it.

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If you enjoyed this fic, please take a moment to like and reblog. It only takes a moment and it helps me out a lot, thank you :)

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twstgabrielle · 2 years

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Arthur Kirkland wasn't the best cook out there. While he excelled in baking making delicious desserts and such, whenever he'd try to actually cook it'd end in a complete disaster. It didn't help that his friend/enemy Francis would make fun of him or criticize him for it. So to try and fix this problem Arthur had decided to do something that he never thought he'd ever do.

He was going to go to a cooking class.

He'd made sure to schedule the classes where he wouldn't be found out by people like Francis or Alfred. Matthew he didn't mind too much if he found out about the classes given that he actually tried to encourage Arthur with stuff like this. His first class was rather awkward. Arthur made his way towards the classroom, nervously looking around to make sure that he wasn't seen by someone he knew. Once the coast was clear he stepped inside the classroom. Several others were inside the room all getting their things ready to start cooking. Arthur looked for an empty place and quickly found one in the back of the classroom. Setting his things down he sat there quietly obversing the rest of the room. The rest of the adults who had joined the class talked amongst themselves before the door burst open.

"Mi dispiace everyone! I was running a bit late! Ah anyways welcome to cooking with Vargas! I'm your teacher Feliciano Vargas, but you can call me Feli! Now let's get started, first we'll start with a simple dish! Pasta~!"

A man with tan skin and auburn hair with a strange curl spoke to the class. A bright smile was on his face and seemed to radiate nothing but cheerfulness. His voice was smooth and a bit higher in pitch with a thick Italian accent. Arthur noticed several of the women in the classroom begin to fawn over their new teacher while the Englishman tried not to roll his eyes. Feliciano began to speak to the classroom again, explaining how to get things started to make the pasta. Arthur followed along, making sure to boil the water at the right temperature.

'Seems rather easy so far.'

Arthur thought feeling a bit proud of himself for doing good so far. Feliciano made his way around the classroom, helping out those who didn't quite understand what he'd been trying to say (a lot of them unsurprisingly women much to Arthur's annoyance). Arthur was watching the water boil when an accented voice startled him.

"Ve, that's a bit too high in temperature! Try lowering it a bit, or else it'll go everywhere."

Feliciano said obversing Arthur's work. The Englishman blinked at him and couldn't help but feel slightly embarrassed.

"Ah right of course, my mistake."

He said turning the water down some. Feliciano gave him a beaming smile, looking suddenly extremely attractive. Arthur swallowed and looked away not wanting to be caught staring.

"It's all good, we all make mistakes especially when we're learning something new! That's why I'm here to help you out!"

Feliciano said flashing another smile towards him and made his way towards another student. Arthur felt his face flush now that he'd seen his teacher up close. Now that he'd seen it was very clear that Feliciano was at least a few years younger than him, and he was taller than him too. He was a rather good looking young man even if he had his eyes closed for some strange reason. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts Arthur continued to follow Feli's teaching, trying to not mess it up. Before he knew it he was done with the dish and it was sitting on the plate. The noodles looked a bit soggy and slightly burnt and the pasta sauce was a bit watery but other than that, his dish turned out surprisingly okay. Feli smiled at his class pride radiating off of him.

"Molto bene everyone! You all did a fantastic job today! Next week we'll try another easy dish and work up from there! See you next week!"

Feli chirped happily excusing the classroom. The room full of adults began to clear out, a few of the women who were there attempting to flirt with the Italian who seemed oblivious to their obvious interest. Arthur was one of the last people out of the room, gathering his things and making sure he had everything. He was about to leave when Feliciano stopped him.

"Ah Arturo if you could hold on for a moment I'd like to talk to you."

Feli said making Arthur swear mentally.

"Of course Mr. Vargas. Is something the matter?"

Arthur asked though he had a feeling of what he wanted to talk to him about. Feliciano gave him a reassuring smile and gestured him closer.

"Please call me Feli. As for what I wanted to talk to you about, I had noticed that you were struggling at times during the lesson. I'm guessing that this is your first time in a cooking class si?"

The Italian asked curious. Arthur felt himself grow flustered.

"Ah well.....bloody hell is it really that obvious?"

Arthur asked sounding somewhat frustrated. Feli didn't seem deterred by his tone instead nodding to confirm it.

"Si it kinda is. But it's alright! I have a solution!"

Feli chirped. Arthur gave him a confused yet cautious.

"A solution....?"

He asked hesitant. Feli nodded.

"Si! I'll give you private lessons and teach you all there is to know about cooking!"

Feliciano said sounding pleased. Arthur's eyes went wide with shock and he quickly tried to turn him down.

"Oh no Mr. Vargas you don't have to do that! I'm a grown man I can learn with the rest of the class-"

Arthur began to deny the offer but Feliciano cut him off.

"The only thing I ask in return is that you join me for dinner~"

Feliciano said his tone shifting to something smoother. Arthur stopped dead in his tracks, his green eyes wide as he processed what Feliciano was asking him.

"L-like a date.....?"

Arthur asked his voice cracking slightly. Feli let out a small laugh and nodded.

"Si. Like a date, but only if you want to. Either way I'll still give you the lessons."

The Italian said now sounding slightly nervous. The Englishman stared at him thinking about it, his pale cheeks slowly going more and more red.

"I wouldn't mind per say....you really know how to be persuasive you cheeky brat."

Arthur said flustered by all of this. Feliciano opened his eyes, bright amber hues staring into warm green ones. Arthur felt his breath be taken away by the sudden attractiveness that he was seeing. Dear lord he was too good looking.

"Great! I know a great restaurant that serves excellent food, let me get my things and I'll take you! Oh and by the way, it's Feli not Mr. Vargas, if I'm taking you to dinner then I'd love to hear you say my actual name."

Feliciano said with a charming smile. Arthur swallowed and nodded.

"Very well then Feli......I'm looking forward to it."

Arthur said offering his own small smile. Maybe cooking class wasn't so bad after all.

*No thoughts, head empty. Only them. I'm an absolute slut for these kinds of AUs and what better pairing to go with it other than EngIta? Also Feli being smooth as all hell is something that waters my crops shsgsgdgdh. Anyways if any y'all read this I hope you enjoyed it!!!!*

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forgottenlivesobverse · 3 years

Text

Philip Purser-Hallard Q&A

Our final Q&A is with Forgotten Lives’ editor Philip Purser-Hallard. His story for the book, ‘House of Images’, features the Robert Banks Stewart Doctor, and opens like this:

‘The usual dreadful creaking and bellowing from the rooms above the dusty office informed me that the Doctor would soon be coming down to check on my progress. I really don’t know what he does up there to make that racket. If you asked me, I’d have to guess that he’s trying to invent a mechanical walrus, and enjoying some success.

‘Honestly, Auntie, I wouldn’t put it past him. My employer is a strange man, with obsessive interests and a deeply peculiar sense of humour.’

FL: Tell us a little about yourself.

PPH: I’m a middle-aged writer, editor and Doctor Who fan; also a husband, father, vegetarian, cat-lover, beer-drinker and board games geek.

A couple of decades ago I wrote stories for some of the earliest Doctor Who charity ‘fanthologies’, Perfect Timing 2 and Walking in Eternity (whose co-editor, Jay Eales, has contributed to Forgotten Lives). These led directly to my published work in multiple Doctor Who spinoff and tie-in series, starting with Faction Paradox.

Since then, among other things, I’ve written a trilogy of urban fantasy political thrillers for Snowbooks, and two Sherlock Holmes novels for Titan Books. I’ve also edited six volumes of fiction for Obverse Books, in the City of the Saved and Iris Wildthyme series. And I founded, coedit, and have written two-and-a-half books for, The Black Archive, Obverse’s series of critical monographs on individual Doctor Who stories. (Mine are on Battlefield, Human Nature / The Family of Blood and Dark Water / Death in Heaven.)

But those two anthologies are where it all started.

FL: How did you conceive this project?

PPH: I’m fascinated by unconventional approaches to Doctor Who, an interest fostered by three decades spent reading the Virgin New Adventures, the BBC Eighth Doctor Adventures and such experimental spinoffs as Faction Paradox and Iris Wildthyme. (Again, I’m glad to have worked with alumni of those series, including Simon Bucher-Jones and Lance Parkin, on Forgotten Lives.) I love the Doctor Who extended universe when it’s at its most radical, questioning, deconstructive and subversive. The Morbius Doctors, standing outside the canon with a foot in the door, are a great vehicle for exploring that.

Once I had the idea for the anthology, the charitable cause followed naturally. These are the lives that the later Doctors have forgotten, and that loss of identity and memory could only put me in mind of the experience of my grandmother, who lived with Alzheimer’s for many years before her death. Gran was a shrewd, intelligent woman, and it was deeply upsetting to see her faculties steadily deserting her. All charities are going through straitened times at the moment, of course, and all of them are in need of extra support, but I felt Alzheimer’s Research UK was particularly worth my time and effort.

FL: Each story in the book features a different incarnation of the Doctor. Tell us about yours.

PPH: As I’ve written him, the Robert Banks Stewart Doctor is a grumpy, ebullient name-dropper with quietly brilliant detective skills and a penchant for deniable meddling. So far, so quintessentially Doctorish, but this incarnation also has an unusual interest in magic and alchemy, a long-term mission on Earth, and an old nemesis demanding his attention.

FL: These Doctors only exist in a couple of photos. How did you approach the characterisation of your incarnation?

PPH: The photo of scriptwriter Robert Banks Stewart that appears onscreen in The Brain of Morbius has a grim look on his face, but there’s another where he seems to be having a lot more fun in the costume. I played with that contrast by making his Doctor a man of excessive, rather theatrical moods, curmudgeonly and charming by turns. With his fur collar, there’s something rather bearlike about him, which made me envisage as quite physically large.

I also love Paul Hanley’s artwork for the character, where he elaborates on the costume to portray this Doctor as a kind of renaissance alchemist – Paul says ‘I like the idea that this is the Doctor who was most interested in “magic”, psychic phenomena, etc.,’ and I certainly leaned into that.

Banks Stewart’s own persona comes through in the Doctor’s Scottish accent and in some of the story choices. Both the Doctor Who scripts he wrote are set in contemporary Britain, so this Doctor’s story is a ‘contemporary’ one – though the timeframe I was envisaging for these forgotten Doctors means that works out as the 1940s. Banks Stewart created the TV detective series Bergerac and Shoestring, and so this Doctor fancies himself as a detective. And he also wrote for The Avengers (and for the Doctor and Sarah rather as if they were appearing in The Avengers), so there’s a flavour of that in the action, the whimsy, and the relationship between the Doctor and his secretary, Miss Weston.

FL: What's your story about?

PPH: The Doctor is in early-1940s London, observing the geopolitical progress of World War II on behalf of the mysterious power he represents, when he’s distracted by a burglary carried out by men bearing a close resemblance to the comedy duo Laurel and Hardy. This brings him into conflict with a figure from his past, a sorcerer known as ‘the Magus’, who represents another cosmic faction with its own agenda.

FL: The stories are intended to represent a ‘prehistory’ of Doctor Who before 1963. How did that affect your approach?

PPH: Since the eight forgotten Doctors are supposedly the incarnations preceding Hartnell, it was part of the concept from the first that these stories would reconstruct – thematically and narratively, though not in terms of TV production values – Doctor Who as it ‘would have been’ in the 1940s, 50s and early 60s. In one sense that’s a very conservative approach, but it also highlights the ways in which Doctor Who in reality has been a product of its various times.

For my own story I drew on two mid-20th-century influences – Charles Williams, a friend of CS Lewis and JRR Tolkien, who before his death in 1945 wrote occult thrillers infused with his own very eccentric brand of Christianity; and the Basil Rathbone Sherlock Holmes films set during World War II. Between them they led me to this story of a magicianly Doctor doing detective work and getting involved with affairs of state during the Blitz, and to provide him with his very own sorcerous Moriarty.

FL: Who would be your ideal casting for a pre-Hartnell Doctor?

PPH: The other authors have given most of the good answers already – Margaret Rutherford, Alec Guinness, Waris Hussein or Verity Lambert, Peter Cushing – so I’ll say either Boris Karloff or a young Mary Morris, depending on taste.

FL: What other projects are you working on at present?

PPH: I’ve got a short story and a novel for Sherlock Holmes in the works; plus another Holmes novel partly written, with a more unusual premise, that I’m trying to persuade someone to publish. I’m editing the next batch of Black Archives, of course, and writing our book on the Jodie Whittaker story The Haunting of Villa Diodati, which is due out in December 2021. And I have further ideas for original novels that I really need to devote more of my time to. One of them’s got vampires in.

#philip purser-hallard #forgotten lives #obverse books #robert banks stewart #the banks stewart doctor #morbius doctors #the brain of morbius #doctor who #dr who #doctorwho #drwho #fanthologies #paul hanley

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klbwriting · 5 years

Text

Center of Two Worlds

Chapter 3: You Can Learn A Lot Not Speaking

Fandom: DCEU

Pairing: Orm x female!Reader

Warnings: some violence

Summary: Orm and Y/N have a fight causing them to not speak to each other. They obverse each other and see a common interest that could bond them. However, an old enemy brings danger to them

Tags: @bookdragoneve @scuzmunkie @fangsweetpea @dulcerdzx @downsideright @aggie-the-poet

(I couldn’t find a person to credit this GIF for so please if someone knows who did it originally let me know!)

Orm couldn't even remember what had started the fight but here he was fighting with Y/N, the two of them yelling at each other about the surface world and its people again. Orm knew he should stop, he didn't want to fight with her really but he was too prideful and stubborn and annoyed at how much a halfbreed like her entranced him to stop now. He growled at her as she ranted at him and that stopped her in her tracks and she glared. "You know this is why you're not king anymore because you aren't fit for it, you only care about yourself!" Y/N said, fists clenched at her sides. Why was she saying this to him? She didn't really mean it but she couldn't stop. She would have much rather him be kissing her with that mouth of his but she wasn't going to let him know that. He hated her and her kind, why should she be attracted to him? "Really? I only care about myself? What about your father? Helping my mother in some hope she would reward him as she abandoned her people? They were selfish! Your father should be dead for his crime and you shouldn't even exist you...you pathetic halfbreed!" he said, getting up in her face and poking her chest. The insult wasn't that bad but the venom behind it, and how his eyes stormed over so that his blue irises became gray. She backed away and shook her head. "Ok, look, I promised Arthur I'd stay another couple days but during that time let's just not talk and not see each other if possible ok?" she said, turning away from him to swim to her room and close the door. He let out a breath, immediately regretting how he had lost his temper with her, but he wasn't sure how to apologize when he didn't feel he was in the wrong. Early the next day Orm sat in his living area watching a program on his holoscreen in the room when Y/N emerged from her room. They glanced at each other and she just nodded to acknowledge him before moving to the window. He watched her quietly out of the corner of his eye as he tried to focus on his program but then he heard mumbling from her and his focus shifted. He couldn't hear well so he quietly moved near her, trying to understand her. Once he got close enough he could hear she was singing to herself.

Baby, why don't you just meet me in the middle I'm losing my mind just a little So why don't you just meet me in middle In the middle

He found her singing voice to be alright, nothing special, but soothing to his ears. He watched her quietly for some time, even after she stopped singing and just watched the world of Atlantis go by a small smile on her face. That smile was telling to him, it let him know that she was as enamored with his world as he was, she saw how wonderful it was and appreciated it. That stirred his heart some to see but he still stayed silent.

Y/N had felt his eyes on her for some time now but was remaining focused on the other side of the window. Once she felt his eyes leave her she looked over at him, seeing him looking out the window but up instead of at the city. She wondered if he was thinking about the surface world. He didn't seem to be angry, he wasn't glaring at the surface so she hoped maybe, just maybe, he was thinking that it might not be so bad up there. She almost said something but instead opted to just turn and leave the room. She needed some air, needed to feel like her world was around her, like she belonged and right now she didn't belong in Atlantis.

She descended to the surface quickly, taking a deep breath of the air, squinting her eyes a little to adjust to the bright sunlight around her. She heard something approaching, something fast that was trying to be stealthy beneath the water. She went swim down again but before she could a small sub rose up and she was soon laying on top of it as it stopped and a man stepped out. "Well, looks like I caught an Atlantian," he said, grabbing her by her top and pulling her up to stand. He was strong, the suit he was wearing gave him more power than a human should have and even though she punched his chest as hard as she could he barely moved.

"Let me go!" Y/N yelled, starting to kick as he lifted her into the air. He chuckled.

"Settle down, I won't hurt you, I just need a nice high born to put up for ransom. That should bring Aquaman running," he said, tossing her into the cockpit and strapping her in, tying her hands together.

While he was distracted Orm climbed onto the vessel. He glared, recognizing the man immediately.

"Let her go Manta," he said, trying hard not to wince as his monitor burned his skin. He was outside of his arrest area but he didn't care, no one was going to take Y/N. Manta stopped and smirked at Y/N before turning.

"You were not the one I was expecting," he said. "But, I guess you'll have to do." He pressed a button and soon several other subs rose to the surface, more men in similar gear to Manta's. "Now, how much do I get for the girl? How about, the head of the Aquaman? Think you can pull that off?" Orm glared. He wanted to tear Manta's head off and feed it to a great white but instead he just waited. He knew Arthur was coming and probably with a squad considering that Orm was dangerous. "No answer? Fine." Manta leveled his weapon at Orm and just as he moved to attack Manta fired, hitting Orm in the leg and sending him back into the water.

Y/N fought her restraints, eyes wide when Orm was hit. She fought harder, wrists starting to bleed from her struggling against her binds. She had to help him, she couldn't let him get hurt trying to save her. She cried out louder when she saw Orm fly out of the water, landing on his feet but his hurt leg giving out on him and forcing him to almost fall again. Blood was dripping from the wound, spurning Y/N to struggle more, finally getting out of the restraints. Manta was focusing on Orm, aiming to fire at him again when Y/N sprung from behind, landing on his back and using her fingers to dig into his eye sockets as much as she could. He screamed in rage and pain and flipped her hard over his body, making her smack her back and head on the top of his sub. Dazed, she got slowly onto her hands and knees and he moved to aim the weapon at her. Just before he could fire it the gun was knocked from his hands by a water canon. Manta turned to look who attacked and saw Arthuer, Mera, Atlanna, and several commandos taking out the rest of his men. Manta glared, but he had a plan for this. He moved subtly, hitting a button on a grenade, setting it down on the top of his vessel.

Atlanna ran to Orm, helping him slowly to stand, noticing that he was inching as quickly as he could to Y/N, needing to help her. Arthur landed next to Manta, grabbing him by the throat with Mera standing by in case he tried to attack again.

"Yet again, this wasn't supposed to become a habit," Arthur said with a smirk. He was ready to kick ass and never see this guy again. Mera frowned at the smile on Manta's face.

"Somethings wrong," she said. Manta made a sound and Arthur loosened his grip slightly.

"I would get going before this place blows," he said, eyes going towards the grenade on the ground. Arthur's eyes widened and he looked to Mera, tossing Manta hard into the cockpit of the vessel and taking her hand to flee. Atlanna helped Orm get Y/N and they moved to jump. "Just know, I'm not done with any of you yet." The three jumped into the ocean and Manta quickly disabled his grenade and sped off into the depths.

"Arthur, help me with your brother," Atlanna said, letting Arthur take hold of Orm and she held Y/N as they headed back to Atlantis. The king moved to swim away but couldn't, looking to see Orm's hand in Y/N and not letting go. He looked at his brother and smiled a little as he slowed up, letting them hold hands on the way to the infirmary.

#king orm #king orm x reader #orm marius #orm marius x reader #orm marius one shot #ormmariusxreader #ormmarius #ormmariusoneshot #ormseries #kingorm #kingormxreader

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jjkpls · 5 years

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The Seeker (Harry Potter!AU #5) (PG15)

> genre : angst, fluff

> pairing : kim namjoon x reader

> words : 1.8k

> warning : depression, language, mention of sexual intercourse

> Kim Namjoon (Gryffindor, 7th yr) has always been a largely appreciated prodig. But lately, he is haunted by a sort of illusory obsession. (there is not much to this it’s more like a prompt i’ve never got around to develop, i was in a weird mood, angst, fluff)

/The Harry Potter!AU Masterlist/

Namjoon is sitting at the desk he always occupies during his free time. His elbows dig hard on the wood, hands holding his head by the temples with effort. It's past 11 pm and that well-furnished head of his weighs too much for his neck to carry alone. It seems the latter is not carrying any of it anymore as you watch his eyelids, fluttering behind his thick glasses in a threatening slow pace. He is about to slump, face first, on the surface of the hard table, you can tell.

“Hey, Namjoon-ah.”

He jumps in fright, a loud thud echoing in the room as his knee bump hard against the table. You wince slightly, biting back an amused smile when he massages the painful spot with a grimace.

“You scared the shit out of me.”

“Didn't mean too.”

He shoots one of his dimples your way. The smile doesn't reach his eyes though and you hurt when you realize it. Those eyes are not what they used to be. Soft, and warm, and mischievous, they are now dark and severe. He carries the gaze of a mature man that would have been eaten alive by his own secrets. You're not hopeless that one day, the dead stare would show an unexpected glint of the light it used to hold. That's why, as you take a seat in front of him, you smile brightly at him, ignoring the uncomfortable squeeze of your heart.

He is back at his work again. His large hands, free from holding the temporarily reenergized head, are fidgeting around trying to make sense and order of all the papers, parchments and books laid messily on the table. In the process, a dozen of loose papers go flying in the air but you're quick to catch them and place them back on the table in an ordered pile without missing a glimpse of the inscriptions and annotations covering them.

“Have you made any new discovery ?”

“There's this thing I found in...” His long arms swing wildly around, the big ring adorning his left hand missing by a mere centimetre your eye, then reach for a heavy-looking leatherbound book he holds in front of your nose. “This thing. It's a journal though. Written by a dude that... well, just look.” In a swift motion, he's haphazardly opened the book, holding it up for you to peek at the unconventional and bizarre writing scattered, between creepy doodles, on the yellow pages. Over the book, you peer at his expression. Eyes trying to reach for his eyebrows lifted high on his forehead, cheeks puffed in utter annoyance. “The dude was batshit crazy.”

You pick up the book to flip curiously through the pages as Namjoon goes on about what he suspects the author was on, spreading out his unnecessarily extended knowledge on magical drugs in the process. When you struggle to separate two pages stuck together by a weird, slimy material, he finally is back on Earth and calls for your name, a new shade covering the annoyed edge his voice took moments ago.

“The thing is he mentioned something in one of his daily entries and I know it might be bullshit but after reading the entirety of it, I did feel like maybe-” He is stumbling over his words now, eyes staring at his slightly trembling fingers.

“What is it ?” You press gently, a soft hand placing itself on his.

“There's this moment when he tells of a visit to a lost village in Russia and he says that, there, a poor family allowed him to spend the night during a snow tempest. And -that's so weird because he doesn't even extend on that, he just fucking mentions it once like that's normal- he says that the parents were a loving couple composed of a wizard and a dementor. And they had children! A little girl and a baby. Can you believe it ?”

You remain silent, feeling too coward to utter a word. You're brave enough to hold his wide eyes though, even when the brief ray of excitement wavers slowly to faint into definite darkness. He smiles humourlessly.

“I mean, obviously I don't...” He mumbles, exhaling hard before pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, ready to dip back in his lectures.

“Joon, it's okay. Maybe this is the hint of a beginning.” You cringe at your own voice. You're overwhelmed with love and affection and tenderness for this tall lanky sad guy but you suck at expressing it. You wish you were better because as you see the shaking of his fingers getting stronger, and your heart cries in pain, you can't imagine how bad it must be on him.

“Or more like an umpteenth disillusionment.” He says simply, tone low and composed, being back to his usual collected smart prefect role.

“Namjoon-ah.” You have to call him a few more times for him to finally look back to meet your concerned eyes. And the role, for the first time in a long time, sways and flickers until the corners of his eyes redden and they start filling up with tears. He bites on his lip, looking down in shame. Your heart, dying in your bosom, doesn't matter anymore as you raise in a panic over the table to awkwardly wrap your arms around him.

It takes longer than ever for him to calm down. When he seems to be feeling better, blowing his nose in the dirty tissue he always keeps in his robe, you can't help but observe him with growing anxiety. You can't help but wonder how long it will take for him to not be able to get back from those little outbursts of his heart. You wouldn't tell him, because he doesn't need to hear it and is not ready to hear it, but you don't believe he'll ever find an answer. Simply because there is no answer. No matter how smart and ingenious and prodigious of a wizard he's always been, smarter, more ingenious and remarkable and wiser grandiose wizards have been there before him. It's a helpless cause he is pursuing for reasons he's never unbosomed to you. Dementors are not sick and therefore can't be cured. Once they're gone, there is no coming back from that darkness, that foulness that, not only inhabit them but have become the real essence of their very nature. But for some reasons -those hidden secrets he's never confessed to you nor anyone else- he wants to believe that there is a way and wouldn't stop looking for it.

“I'm sorry I'm not of any use to you.”

“You're my old friend.” His voice is hoarse from crying, and probably from how far he dragged those hearty words from and your whole inside warms up. Then he is smiling, genuinely, with the two deep dimples of his cheeks winking with total heartfelt disclosure and you allow some hope to fill you up.

You two are too engrossed in your moment to notice the obnoxious interruption of a tall, excited Hufflepuff. It's Jung Hoseok, one of Namjoon's past closest friends. They've never really broken up but it's true that, since Namjoon's mind has been preoccupied with all those serious issues, you know it not to be so easy on him to spend time with them when he knows they won't understand. Jung Hoseok's mind is where it has always been though. Therefore without taking notice of the small hand of yours warming intimately the cheek of his friend or even the red tip of the Namjoon's nose, he starts,

“Namjoon! I've been looking for your ass everywhere, what are you even- Doesn't matter. Super important: do you remember that spell from two years back ?”

The prefect face decomposes right there and then. Your attention doesn't miss the abrupt change. You have no idea why and stare in confusion.

“No, I don't. I'll see you later.” He tries to dismiss but Hoseok, known for his persistence, stands firmly his ground.

“I didn't even say which one! Listen, the one to fuck in public-”

You gasp, staring at Namjoon's previously pale as death complexion turning a deep red. He prompts Hoseok to leave, even tries to kick him -ends up hurting his own elbow- but the other guy doesn't care the least. “You know, the one that turns you invisible and gets those clones- wait, not clones, I mean hollogams or whatever, to replace us! You know the one? What is it ?” He asks again, pressing him by taping on his shoulder like an impatient kid.

“Fuck off, Jung! I don't fucking know!”

Hoseok obverses him quietly, for the longest time, a nasty and ominous scowl on his face before storming out, muttering something about him being a selfish prick.

When the tension has diffused a bit, after his departure, you allow a chuckle, quickly followed by a throng of other ones to burst out.

“I'm so- Honestly, two years ago, I- I mean, I don't do this anymore.”

“What? You really used to have sex in public?” You stare at him with the widest eyes and he is quick to deny with his whole body, shaking his hands widely in the air.

“NO! No, no, no. I- I mean we were young and stupid and real curious horn dogs but-”

“I'm just kidding. You do you, Namjoon. As long as I'm not in the room.”

“I don't do this and I've never had, I promise.” Namjoon sighs deeply, pressing his fingers against his tired eyelids, bumping his glasses in the way. “This dude is sick! I grew out of it, right? It was two fucking years ago! But he- he is still- what a-”

“I would have never imagined this evening to end like that.” He is staring at you with a pitiful, desperate eye but you can't contain your laugh no matter how hard you try. He decides to just give up and starts packing his things, cursing at Hoseok between tightly closed teeth. You two don't really talk until you reach the dorms, you, too busy giggling in the neck of your robe and he, lost in unpenetrable thoughts. It's when you wave goodnight to him, ready to climb up the stairs that the cat seems to lend him back his tongue.

“Thanks again for tonight.”

“No problem, Namjoon.”

“For always, actually.”

You smile at him from above and wave again before leaving for your bed, head fuzzy with the strange, complexed peaceful comfort Namjoon always brings you.

#namjoon angst #namjoon fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #namjoon drabble #bts drabble #bts scenario #namjoon scenario #rm #My writing

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jbk405 · 7 years

Text

True brilliance is giving somebody what they need, not what they want

So, I watched “Twin Suns” earlier today.

Yeah, that episode. Whoa.

I went in like many of you, expecting The Big Fight. Flips and twists and a bombastic soundtrack (I said to myself -- out loud -- that they better include “Duel of the Fates”). I wanted something grand to serve as the proper sendoff to a rivalry that has lasted eighteen years.

And I mean eighteen years in real life. Remember that, we’ve been watching these two hack away at each other since 1999. Seen them each rise and fall, only to rise again, and never quite able to escape the shadow that the other casts on their life. This rivalry has been going on for a generation for us, and even longer for them.

So when it finally came, so fast and so quietly, it was nothing like what I wanted. But it was exactly what was needed. Needed for the characters, and needed for the audience as well.

youtube

For good and ill, these two have changed over the years.

Maul was always filled with hate and anger -- he was a Sith after all -- but now it has consumed him. He’s lost everything he cared for, and everything he worked for, and everything that he thought would make him happy (Or at least content within his power). As so many Jedi have warned, he is no longer using the Dark Side to fuel his actions, but is ruled by it. And he is tired. So tired of always suffering and always fighting and being stuck like this.

On the obverse, Obi-Wan was always committed and skillful, but now he’s had time. Time to put aside the anger and hate and guilt and resentment he felt for Maul for all the harm he caused. It’s true that Obi-Wan never succumbed to the Dark Side while fighting Maul in his younger days, but even he wouldn’t deny that it influenced him, that he wanted revenge for the death of Qui-Gon and Satine and Adi Gallia and everybody else Maul has hurt. Now, with the simple fact that time can lessen even the worse pains, and also the fact that he himself has grown and matured, he can step back from that.

It doesn’t mean that Obi-Wan has forgiven Maul. It means that he is able to clearly and solidly came to the conclusion that Maul has to die, but for the right reasons. Not because Maul has hurt him, but because of the hurt that Maul will go on to do if he is not stopped. To use the very cliched analogy, he is a doctor who has to amputate a limb to save the patient: He doesn’t enjoy hacking off a body part, but he doesn’t hesitate because he knows it must be done.

And that’s why Obi-Wan wins so easily, because he decides to win. This needs to be clear: He doesn’t decide to fight, he decides to win. You can practically see the exact moment when he realizes that Maul needs to die. It’s a calm and cool decision, and it is firmly grounded in the Force, and not from any personal urge. So when Maul loses control, when he is pushed to a mad dash and a doomed-to-fail repeat of how he killed Qui-Gon so long ago, Obi-Wan is just putting a mad animal out of its misery. Turning a page in history.

And afterwards, as Obi-Wan cradles Maul as he dies, he offers what comfort he can. Again, not because he was forgiven him, because this has nothing to do with Obi-Wan. Instead, it has everything to do with Maul. With a creature that has been so consumed by hate and pain and eternal fighting that death is almost a mercy. At this moment, Obi-Wan can look past everything that has happened and just accept Maul for what he is right now, and feel sadness for what has come to pass.

And that is what we as an audience needed as well. To see the final end result of so much strife and struggle. To see the doomed fall of one who has already fallen so far. Without dignity or glory or even much of a struggle. A quiet end that isn’t an anti-climax, but just one man closing the book and moving on to the next.

#Star Wars #Rebels #Darth Maul #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Twin Suns #The Phantom Menace #The Clone Wars

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misteria247 · 1 year

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87 Splinter would totally help keep an eye on the 12 kids.

After all he's heard of 12 Splinter's kindness towards his sons, how the alternate version of himself had taken care of 87 Leo, 87 Raph, 87 Donnie and 87 Mikey. Had heard his boys speak highly of their slightly younger counterparts who protected and helped them when they'd needed it. 87 Splinter after hearing his boys speak so highly of them of course would want to meet them eventually, would want to thank the other rat and his sons for their kindness and compassion towards his own family. So when he'd seen his boys run over to greet the newer turtles in the strange new lair he'd been thrilled that he'd get a chance to thank them for everything. However he was a bit saddened when he noticed the distinct lack of 12 Splinter's presence.

It'd only be later through Rise Splinter, a shorter rat who more or less became a somewhat adult figure for the 12 kids as well as his own, would come to learn the devastating truth along with 03 Splinter, 07 Splinter and Bayverse Splinter.

That 12 Splinter had perished at the hands of 12 Shredder. Leaving his eldest son 12 Leo as the head of the Hamato clan of that reality.

It was a hard pill to swallow.

After that 87 Splinter wouldn't be able to help himself from keeping a eye on these kids. He wouldn't necessarily step in, instead quietly obversing and watching over them much like how 03 Splinter, 07 Splinter, Bayverse Splinter and Rise Splinter did. Only for 87 Splinter he'd feel like he somewhat owed it to them. These boys and their father had protected his sons when they'd been torn from their reality, had helped them and trained with them and formed a bond with them. In 87 Splinter's eyes the 12 Hamato clan doing such a kind thing was something that he could never repay them for. They didn't have to help 87 Leo, 87 Raph, 87 Donnie nor 87 Mikey. They weren't obliged to.

Yet they did.

And 87 Splinter wanted to do whatever he could to do the same thing for them just as they'd done for his family. He wouldn't be able to thank 12 Splinter for his kindness nor him opening up his home to his sons, but he could thank 12 Splinter's sons for this. Could thank them by being a silent watchful presence in the 03 lair for them. After all it appeared that 87 Splinter's sons had taken to sticking with them somewhat, ready to intervene should it be necessary should their counterparts get too pushy for information though none of them ever did. In fact they all got along rather well and the 12 kids could handle themselves just fine should things get tense. Even so 87 Splinter would do what 12 Splinter had done for his boys. Would silently wait for a moment in time where he could lend his assistance to them should they need it.

It was only a small way to thank them for everything they've done for 87 Splinter and his clan.

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ceocu · 5 years

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Surprisingly the farmers did not seem to mind that Junkenstein wished to leave tribute on their stand. He had expected more resistance but he thanked them quietly and gave them a small pouch of coin in exchange, already leaving before they could protest or say anything. It is only when he reaches the stand that he takes the folded silk out from under his arms, other hand brushing to surface free of leaves and debris and places it onto the stand. It's stark white making it easy to dye.

「 The earlier the offering, the earlier the Fae will be there. The farmers always gave the offering first thing in the morning, a request for protection of their livestock or healthy crops typically, so Wisp was already nearby. It took but five minutes for the Fae to come out of the undergrowth, seeming far from the commoners outfit they wore into town. A pale blue with gold accents chiton Instead of the plain dress shirt and trousers.

Wisp doesn't give a greeting, at least not right away. They walk to the wooden offering stand and pick up the bolt of fabric. A moment taken to obverse the grade and material before Wisp looks to the doctor with a smile. ❝A good offering, this will grant you many questions. That is what you wish for, yes?❞ 」

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justinegrotius · 7 years

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((Long read, one of which I am quite proud – feels.))

“What’s on your mind?” asked Wren. She sat. Her legs dangled over the side of the ship. Once she had situated herself, she dug a cigarillo out from her tunic. She pat her body down. “…damn.”

“War crimes,” said Osprey. She grimaced as she dug into one of her belt pouches, fished out a small coin and her old, battered zippo, and flicked the lighter’s flint striker. A thin tendril of fire snaked upward. She slipped the coin back into the pouch. Wren leaned in toward the lighter, and took a long drag off the cigarillo. The cigarillo hissed, and the tobacco leaf burned away, fast and hot. A jagged red line wound its way around the cigarillo. Osprey clicked her lighter shut, and put it away.

Wren held her breath for several seconds before exhaling grey smoke into the clear evening air.

“That’s a topic…” she said.

“I know,” said Osprey. She placed her hands in her lap and looked out across Menethil Harbor. Fireflies flickered every now and again. Nighthawks cried like distant phantasms as they swooped across the inlet, unseen predators in the thick summer air.

“Any reason?” asked Wren before she took another long drag. The scent of warm leather and earthy tobacco wafted across the ship’s deck.

“Mister Albatross,” said Osprey without a moment’s hesitation.

“Mister Albatross…” murmured Wren. She sighed. She tipped the cigarillo straight upward. Smoke wound toward the stars.

“I’ve done some things,” began Osprey. Wren looked over toward her; Osprey’s face was moulded, shaped out of some imperturbable clay. “But not …” – her lip twitched subtlety – “…you just don’t brand people. I don’t care if it’s going to fade away or whatever bullshit he said, but you just don’t. Not on the battlefield, and certainly not prisoners of war – our charges – after they surrender.”

Wren turned back toward her cigarillo; she turned it on its side and flicked a long pillar of ash into the water. “No, you don’t…” she agreed before she pulled the cigarillo to her lips and inhaled. More hissing, more jagged and burning red lines.

The two sat in silence for several minutes. The nighthawks continued to swoop; the fireflies continued to flash. Fish nipped at the surface of the water. Tiny ripples spilled across the still and glassy inlet.

Osprey tightened her scarf to her neck. “Do you have anything that you regret? Any people who… who have been harmed?”

Wren finished the last bit of her cigarillo and tossed it at one of the ripples. “Yeah, plenty.”

“Any who you regret – any who, you know…” Osprey squinted, as though she could see something in the distance. “…any who still come to you? In the night, I mean.”

Wren wrung her hands. She cleared her throat. “One,” she said. “Out of all of the sideways kills, mistakes, whatever – one haunts me more than the rest.”

“Me, too,” said Osprey. She nodded. Her eyes never left the spot in the distance. Perhaps there was an army there, perhaps nothing at all. She could not tell. Not from this distance. “Who?”

“That kid. The one in Northshire,” said Wren. She grabbed her hipflask and unscrewed the top. Osprey turned her head away from the bourbon’s oaky scent. Wren took a long pull from the flask. When she finished, she wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. “He was not supposed… I did not mean… I was just trying to knock the kid out.” Wren stared into the black water as it lapped against the hull. She bit her lip.

Osprey reached her arm out toward the bereft woman. Osprey placed her hand onto Wren’s shoulder.

“I almost never flinch, you know? Or question my orders,” said Osprey. She felt Wren nodding in the darkness. Osprey’s lip twitched once again. She took a deep breath. “There was this one mission. Street fighting, straight-out urban warfare. It was right after Brian had been conscripted by the Kirin Tor. Well…” – she shifted her weight – “…he was not the only conscript that day.”

Wren did not say anything. She just continued to watch as unending ripples of dark water splashed against the ship.

Osprey removed her hand from Wren’s shoulder. “That day, everything was bad. We had to round up sin’dorei, push them toward the Violet Hold. Those who didn’t go, were …” Osprey took a moment to choose her word. “…exterminated. Systematically, methodically exterminated. I got separated from Brian. He was stuck in the damned Horde’s sanctuary. I mean, really pinned down. No escape. He and a few others – Aurora, Antonie, Kristian – held out. That’s how we had met those three… that one, bad day.”

Wren turned her head toward Osprey. She screwed the flask’s cap tight, and stowed it on her hip, tucked behind her belt.

Osprey continued: “So my squad had a choice – do we continue to hold our captives and wait for the jailers, or do we cut across the city.” Osprey took a shaky breath. She composed herself. “We elected to cut across the city, but to do that…”

“…you had to kill your charges,” finished Wren, her words grim, heavy.

“We made it as clean as possible, gave them time to make their peace, state their last words. A few of them were defiant to the end, you know? ‘You’ll burn’ was popular, the standard ‘fuck-you’… but there was this little girl, maybe ten years old. This kid had watched as her mother and father were executed in one of the banks. They had been hiding in one of the vaults. So, we take the girl to be processed. But when we make the decision, this little girl…” – Osprey stretched her fingers out toward the darkness – “…she looks at me and says: ‘Can I be with mommy now? Please put me with mommy.’”

Wren drew a quick breath. Now it was her turn to reach out to her comrade; she placed her small, bruised hand on Osprey’s forearm.

“I couldn’t do it. I just… couldn’t. One of the other shooters in our squad, he stepped in and took my gun away.” Osprey dropped her hand and pat the sidearm in her leg-holster. “And he just said ‘Done.’, and then – done: that girl, floating in the water, face down…”

Wren squeezed Osprey’s arm. “You did what you could,” she said quietly.

Osprey sniffled. Her gaze dropped from the horizon to her boots, where they dangled in open space.

“Well, we cut across the city, and extracted the doctor’s squad. The shooter, the guy who took my gun?” She clicked her tongue. “He didn’t make it. Gut shot on the way back to the Hold. Nothing we could do for him. Nothing.” Osprey let the last word hang in the air; Wren knew what she meant. “And then we got out.”

Wren glanced over her shoulder. There, the issue no one really wanted to discuss directly – Albatross – patrolled the ship’s deck. His heavy, plate-bound hooves clomped against the thick wooden planks. Wren shook her head as she turned back toward the water. She dug her hip flask from behind her belt and unscrewed its cap.

“Do they go away – the dreams?” asked Wren before she took a long draught. She held the bourbon in her mouth for a moment before swallowing; it burned the whole way down. “All I see is that kid, you know? Some… beat-cop or something. I can still feel his nose crunch against my palm – I mean, it feels so real that it wakes me up.”

Osprey rubbed the back of her neck. She did not say anything for a long time. The blink of the fireflies had slowed. The nighthawks had retreated to their nests. But the water – the water was relentless, eternal. Like memories that drive actions. Unavoidable, always present.

“No,” Osprey said. She swiped at her left eye. “You’ll always hear them. You’ll always see them. But they guide you, they keep you alive if you let them.”

“How?” asked Wren. She tucked her flask away.

“They won’t let you do the same thing twice.”

Osprey dug into the pouch strapped to her belt. She pulled out the small coin Wren had seen earlier – a trinket, an heirloom one might give to a child. The obverse held a simple raised relief of the Kirin Tor Eye. Wren watched as Osprey turned the coin over in her hand. A beautiful phoenix stretched toward the two moons of Azeroth. She placed the coin in Wren’s hand, and closed her fingers around it. Wren looked toward Osprey, perplexed. Osprey continued to hold the younger woman’s hand:

“…the little girl dropped this,” she said. She turned and looked toward the horizon as she had been doing before. “I kept it – I kept it to remind me that I did the right thing. My personal feelings about that race – those traitors – they mean nothing. Not in the face of who I am, or who I want to be. I did the right thing. You did, too. Sometimes, our intentions are what matter. Let her remind you of that.”

Osprey released Wren’s hand. She swiped at her eye once more before her face settled back into the stoic, blank slate which Wren had grown to admire.

On the ship’s deck, the two women sat in silence. Minutes passed. The gentle rocking of the ship reminded them they were two people on the same journey, bound together in this world for this moment; it reminded them that they were still breathing. They knew it was only through their memories that the forgotten could survive, and only on their breath that those voices could still be heard.

(( Mentioned: @quai-mason, @malorincan, @brian-wellson; Relevant: @monettemason, @juniper-rose-blower, @missducass ))

#Justine #Blackbay #Kirin Tor Offensive #Backstory #WRA RP #Wyrmrest Accord #Quai #This is a good one

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lenixsocial · 5 years

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I’m Fine.

Earlier today a friend who I hadn’t talked to in awhile asked how I was doing and out of some knee-jerk retail employee reaction that’s been ingrained in me for 16 years I came back immediately with “I’m fine”.

Now I get that everyone says it, and it’s beyond common to hear it when asked the question in public even if you aren’t fine and especially if you are working retail or in customer service where you face people every day. You are forced to say it because if you don’t say it or say you aren’t well or anything of the sort well...societal pressures being what they are people will give you this look like there are lobsters crawling out of your nose. They will also think you are Patient Zero and will treat you accordingly, standing further back, and judgmentally glaring at you.

Still, it doesn’t explain why I still say it even now, three years removed from retail and customer service. I still say it, every time I’m asked. It comes out before I even know it’s on it’s way out of my face hole.

My friend John said something akin to “well, judging by your Facebook profile I’m going to say you’re not fine but...” and he’s right. I’m really not. I’m about the furthest thing from fine.

I spend a good majority of every day alone (except for two days and the time my wife isn’t at work). I mean yes, there’s our cat but he isn’t known as a great conversationalist. He’s cute, great to have staring contests with, and to take naps with. I’m alone otherwise. Sure there’s TV - YouTube, Netflix, Hulu, CBS All Access, and Apps from half a dozen cable channels and the channels themselves. I’m tired of TV. I’m tired of the same old thing. The rut is getting to me and it’s only one facet of a complex lattice that forms why I’m most certainly not fine.

I’m not fine because of the drugs and lest you think I’m an addled addict try again. The drugs in question here are blood pressure meds. In ever increasing dosages. Different types, different mechanisms of action, different side effects, different reactions and interactions the doctors didn’t bargain for. Some of them are so bad that I go away and withdrawal from even doing things I enjoy to cope with the strange feelings. Others like the drug I was taking up until a few days ago have me thinking I’m going to end up in a hospital again as the feelings it gives me are akin to having a heart attack - chest pressure, arm pain, muscle stiffness, and muscle twitches. Now, don’t be concerned because all those are either common or less common side effects but one of them — just one of them: muscle stiffness was enough to raise concern from one doctor to pull me off of it and within two days, I felt tons better. His suspicion was an allergic reaction to one of the compounds in it. I’m just happy he overrode my cardiologist and told me to stop taking it.

I’m not fine because I’m constantly teased about my weight. I’m actually overweight yes, but there’s more to unpack here. With the rate at which people with my disease lose body mass, the “bumper” of excess weight is actually not a terrible thing as my body could sustain itself off of its reserves if I ever begin to spiral. On the obverse being obese is not healthy and I get that. Another part of the issue here is the biweekly infusions I get increase metabolism and increase hunger about ten fold. I’m eating sometimes after my infusion and I honestly don’t even realize it. I’m stuffing my face and I just can’t ever seem to satiate my desire for more food. All of this gives me the worlds most visible ugly pot belly. Well, loss of core muscles, side muscles, back muscles and pectoral muscles from muscle wasting have certainly not helped either as it pushes my stomach forward making it look even larger. My dad and brother razzed me a few days ago and I played along and I was seconds from blowing up. I was having a drug reaction with severe chest pain, dealing with a dead car battery, and putting up with them poking at my gut and calling me fat. Yeah. Trifecta of stress.

Which leads me to I’m not fine because of stress and anxiety attacks. Crippling anxiety attacks. They get so damn bad that I can’t distinguish between cardiac issues and anxiety. And most of the time if I’m on a new drug it might be all three: a legitimate cardiac issue, a medication issue, or an anxiety attack and I just have no idea what to do so I sit quietly. Sometimes for hours with ocean noises playing off of YouTube. Something to focus on that isn’t pain and sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t and when it doesn’t I take naps. Related to the attacks are fear response shocks. In a normal person walking up behind someone and scaring them is fun. Jump cuts are great. To me, anything like that causes my neck muscles to seize, a headache to start, and nerve pain to shoot down both arms. Sometimes the severity lasts hours, sometimes it lasts days. This then also informs a general anxiety about new situations, doctors, airport travel, legal counsel anything. My blood pressure is usually sky high even with the meds when I’m seeing a new doctor and my fear has been at an all time high since I was admitted in the ER last February and spent a week in the hospital.

I’m not fine because I see people giving me the stink eye. Yes. I park in the handicap spot. Yes I have a cane. Yes I also have a motorized wheelchair. I can walk but not very far, but apparently if you have a wheelchair and you are seen walking to it and sitting in it (for instance I park it outside of restrooms because it’s a pain in the ass to maneuver it into a stall) people will give you the dirtiest looks. People will see you in your chair and also think you need to be saved. This happens a lot. Usually in a crowded retail store. I’m agnostic. I don’t care if you want to pray for me...that’s great. I’m fine with that. I feel it’s not my right to judge someone else’s choices or religion or absence of religion. But making a spectacle of it IN PUBLIC? No. And blocking my path with your cart? Double no.

I’m not fine because my wife isn’t fine. She takes care of me and I love her to death but she also gets the dark side of me when I’m at my lowest and most miserable and she has begun to develop anxiety attacks herself so crippling she has trouble breathing. It’s not easy being a caretaker and she does it quite well but it isn’t what she bargained for or expected and she has plenty of things on her plate as it is.

I’m not fine because every friend I had made stopped coming around and those that have stuck around or want to do something I have to explain my condition to so that it doesn’t look like I’m standing them up when my body decides now would be a great time to have more pain. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to cancel last minute because of it.

I’m not fine because of irritable bowel syndrome and GERD. Both of which I have and cause about 75-80% of my daily hell. The pain gets so severe at times I just want to scream and even knowing what foods do what to me doesn’t help anymore. Sometimes...most of the time my stomach or guts just hurt. Bending over hurts, leaning to the side hurts, anything where I have to move against my stomach, really.

I’m not fine because I’m now getting constant pain in my left hand which makes playing guitar—my one creative outlet incredibly difficult. Actually the frustration of not being able to play standing up, or playing a guitar that weighs more than 4lbs is also likewise a root cause of why I’m not fine.

I appreciate the support from everyone but people will say “call me if you need to talk”. Quite frankly you weren’t told you have an incurable disease that will slowly eat away all your muscles, potentially leave you deaf, and eventually kill you and even if they find a cure they can’t undo any damage incurred by the disease. So if I end up with 80% of my muscles gone, and they fix it, I’ll still be wheelchair bound with a bilateral paralysis in my diaphragm, unable to grow back any muscle mass that’s already died. Like I said: I appreciate the support but all of what I just said is too much for most people to deal with or they weren’t bargaining for all of that.

But now you know.

How am I?

I’m fine.

Because it’d just take too long to fully explain all of the ways I’m really not fine at all.

#pompe disease #sickness #disability #anxiety

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twstgabrielle · 2 years

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It wasn't often that Feliciano or better known as Italy, stepped out of his comfort zone. The chipper Italian was known for sticking with those he personally knew and running away whenever he faced someone who scared him. Yet today for some strange reason, Feliciano Vargas was doing something he'd never done before. He was stepping out of his comfort zone and trying to reach out to one of the very people who terrified him the most.

Today he was going to try and talk to none other than Arthur Kirkland, or better known as Great Britain or England.

Where this sudden need to talk to the grouchy Englishman came from was surprisingly when he'd noticed him at one of the world meetings. It was taking place in Berlin, the room was filled with different countries all arguing or somewhat shouting over one another. Complete chaos rained over the whole meeting, while Feli's friend Ludwig tried to get the room back in order. Feli was somewhat zoning out again, doodling on one of his numerous spare sheets of paper when he caught sight of messy blonde hair across the room. Gazing up Feli took notice of Arthur who surprisingly wasn't yelling or swearing at Francis or Alfred. No instead for once the Englishman was quietly obversing the chaos around him, not really bothering to intervene with it. Feli couldn't help but notice how strangely not scary his fellow nation was that day. For once Arthur wasn't glaring his deathly glare at anyone, instead his expression was filled with a bit more ease, his bright green eyes somewhat softer than normal. His expression which was usually tense and guarded was now somewhat relaxed. Even his eyebrows which were usually furrowed were relaxed, and shockingly enough they didn't look as bad as they usually did.

Feliciano couldn't help but stare, a feeling of disbelief flooding through him as he caught sight of this rare side of Arthur. He took note of everything, from the way his posture seemed at ease and how his expression was a bit more open then it always was. It was bizarre to see yet Feli thought that the look actually looked better on him. Unfortunately this unguarded look didn't last long because the Englishman quickly looked over at him and his expression instantly shut itself down, going back to the terrifying expression that Feli knew. The Italian flinched at the glare he received and looked away, no longer giving him attention. Shortly after that moment Ludwig had finally gotten the meeting back on track and the nations began their meeting. Arthur turned his razor sharp glare back towards Ludwig and the other nations, giving them his full attention instead of glaring holes into the Italian's head.

Feliciano went back to doodling again however his heart wasn't as into it, instead his mind was more focused on the rare image of Arthur that he'd managed to get a glimpse at. It played through his head like a record player, consuming his thoughts. He got so lost in his musings that he nearly jumped when he heard Kiku talk to him.

"What? I'm sorry could you repeat that Japan?"

Feliciano asked his voice somewhat spacey. Kiku gave his friend a small look, not at all bothered by his friend's spacing out and repeated what he had said.

"I said that the meeting is over. We need to get going Italy."

Kiku said softly. Feli gave a jerking nod and began to gather his things quickly. Without much thought his eyes gazed back towards where Arthur had been sitting and with a hint of disappointment found that he'd already left. Not thinking too much about it Feliciano followed Kiku out of the meeting room, chatting mindlessly about everything and anything. It was only later when he'd went back to his hotel room and began to look through his papers that he noticed the doodles he'd done had ended up being of Arthur and once again his interest was peeked.

'Why was Arthur so guarded? Why can't he look like that all the time? Has he ever had a moment where he completely relaxed?'

Questions kept popping up but he didn't have any answers to. And those questions kept piling up the more Feli began to actually notice Arthur. Whenever there was a new meeting the Italian found himself always watching the Englishman, noticing little things about him. He leaned that Arthur when he was bored during the meetings would kept a small thing of needle work on him and work on it under the table or behind his briefcase. Or how whenever he had a good cup of tea he'd let out a small smile as he'd sip on it. Or how whenever Arthur was in the sunlight his hair was a golden color, or how his eyes when not guarded were a nice warm green color, or how if he looked closely enough he noticed that Arthur had light freckles all over his cheeks. With each little thing Feliciano noticed the more he found himself no longer fearing the ex-empire, but instead wanting to talk to him. Which led him to the current moment where he was going to try and step out of his bubble and finally communicate with Arthur.

The meeting had just ended, having taken place in D.C. this time. Feli had quickly packed up his things and made his way out of the meeting room, catching sight of Arthur and Alfred. The Englishman was quietly listening to whatever the American was saying, despite looking disinterested in it. Feliciano took a deep breath and made his way towards the duo, trying to display confidence.

"I'm telling ya dude, the robots could totally work!"

Alfred exclaimed trying to persuade his senior nation with his idea. Arthur gave Alfred a small unamused look.

"If you don't plan accordingly then I highly doubt they will. You really need to plan more ahead America, lest you want to be taken more seriously."

Arthur replied his criticism breaking through his tone. Alfred frowned at him and was gonna say something when Feli finally spoke up.

"Ciao~! America! England!"

Feliciano chirped startling the duo. Alfred turned towards him and gave him a bright smile while Arthur seemed to stiffen already guarded.

"Italy hey! What's happening?"

Alfred said matching his enthusiasm. Feli gave a bright smile back.

"It's nothing! I was just wondering if I could maybe talk to England a bit....."

Feliciano said trailing off when he noticed how they stared at him. Alfred looked shocked while Arthur just stared uneasy and nervous.

"If you insist on it, then we'll talk. America my apologies but it seems as if there's a matter that must be attended to."

Arthur said giving Alfred a small look. The American quickly waved him off shooting him a bright smile.

"Hey it's cool dude! We can chat later! See ya later England! Bye Italy!"

Alfred said already walking down the hallway with a wave towards them. The two watched him go before Arthur finally turned his attention to Feliciano.

"So what is this about Italy?"

Arthur asked his voice sharp and professional. Feli bit back his slight anxiety at the tone and gave Arthur a small smile.

"Well I had wanted to ask you if you'd like to join me for dinner!"

Feli said with a beam. Arthur gave him a look, green eyes searching and cautious.

"Why? Shouldn't you ask Germany or Japan?"

The Englishman asked confused.

"Well Germany is busy with some things and Japan had already made plans with Greece, so I thought maybe we could go instead!"

The Italian said somewhat awkwardly. Again Arthur gave him a small stare, his expression unreadable. Feli couldn't help but start to grow anxious from the lack of response before Arthur finally spoke up.

"Well it wouldn't be very gentlemanly of me to turn down an invitation......"

Arthur said his voice somewhat hesitant yet guarded. Feliciano perked up at that and gave him a beaming smile.

"Great! I've heard of this really great place from Romano that serves some really good food! We can go there!"

Feli chirped happily and without thinking about it he grabbed Arthur's hand and began to drag him down the hallway. Arthur sputtered startled by the sudden contact but willingly allowed Feli to lead him.

"Bloody hell-! I'm coming Italy no need to drag me you prat-!"

Arthur snapped. To his shock Feli just laughed and gave him a small smile.

"Ve~ Sorry England I just really want to show you this place! I'll try not to drag you too much!"

Feli said showing not a hint of fear. Arthur just stared at him baffled by the Italian's sudden attitude change towards him before shaking his head slightly, flickering his face to the side. Feliciano snuck a small look at his companion and noticed how his face was slightly red, obviously not used to random contact like this. The Italian felt his chest warm at the sight of the Englishman looking so flustered by all of this.

'He looks really pretty with blushing cheeks. I wonder what else this man is hiding underneath all of his guarded exterior?'

Feliciano couldn't help but think as he dragged Arthur outside and into the streets of Washington. Feli knew that he'd need to work hard at this possible friendship with Arthur, but he somehow knew deep down that it'd be worth it. Seeing Arthur and discovering these sides to him was thrilling, like a unfinished painting just waiting to be blended together to make a beautiful masterpiece. He just had to be patient and Feliciano Vargas had plenty of practice in that area.

As long as he could get to know Arthur and see the real him hidden beneath, then he'd be willing to wait for centuries.

*What's this? Is this EngIta???? Yes, yes it is. This is my first fic involving a Hetalia pairing so it was really fun to write!! Also I apologize in advance if they're OOC, I'm still getting hang of the Hetalia characters since it's been so long since I've really brushed up on them. Tbh I wrote this trying to think about how their relationship/friendship could start and I went with Feliciano taking the first step, given that he's much more friendlier than Arthur and would most likely be the one to try and reach out first. I'm planning on writing a lot more for these two idiots and I hope that y'all stick around for the ride!!! Anyways if any y'all read this I hope you enjoyed it!!!*

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loozje · 7 years

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Memories are just like Snowflakes - Secret Santa 2016

This is my gift for @heytsuki for the KMM Secret Santa 2016.

First of all, sorry it took so long. You’re such a dear for being so patient.

This is also my first time writing about Shinou and the Daikenja. I haven’t actually read too much about them so I hope I got them right. Still, I had fun writing this even though it took forever.

Heytsuki, I really hope you’ll like it. Merry (belated) Christmas.

It’s a bit lengthy so you can either read it here on AO3 or continue to read after the cut.

Also, this will contain some spoilers for people who haven’t listened to Drama CD 43 - Secret.

It wasn’t unusual for Murata Ken to spend some of his nights lounging around in the royal bedroom, whether he was invited or not. It was certainly warmer than his room at the temple – not even a group of young virgin women could bring enough heat to reduce that terrible draft – and here Murata had a chance of goading his best friend Shibuya into another Murakenzu. Though with the way the king was yawning it would seem that their comedy act would have to wait.

“Nee, Shibuya, if you’re that tired it’s okay to finish the rest tomorrow.”

“No way! Absolutely not! It’s Christmas Eve, Murata, Christmas. And I, who is playing the role of Santa, cannot slack off until every present is wrapped.” Shibuya says stubbornly before trying to keep another yawn at bay. Lord von Bielefeld, the other occupant of the room, had already lost his battle with sleep and was now peacefully drifting off in Shibuya’s lap. He looked content, with Shibuya brushing his fingers through the golden locks, and Murata had to briefly suppress an emotion he wasn’t quite comfortable with naming yet.

“Either way,” the king continued, “We’re almost done.” And indeed, between the mess consisting of wrapping paper, strings, and cards lay enough presents for every child of the many staff members who worked in the castle. One extra-large and extravagant present for the princess, containing a carefully selected gift both her fathers had picked out for her, sat separately from the rest. “I only have to finish these last two and all that will be left is to put them in the bag.”

Shibuya diligently resumed his wrapping.

When the light of the fire reflects in the wrapping paper Murata’s eyes were immediately drawn to the hearth. It had been burning for quite some time now and the embers glowed red with much-needed warmth. Winter had taken a cold turn and the snow was piling up outside. With the way it was going the princess would get her wish and would get to build that snowman she wanted. Though Murata suspected the king would be out of the front doors long before her.

Murata couldn’t take his eyes away from the snow. Even the sound of Shibuya wrapping and Lord von Bielefeld’s soft snores faded away for a second. And just like that it was over and time seemed to move again. With Shibuya so consumed by the presents Murata felt it safe to grimace. And here he thought his control of his memory had been perfect, but it would seem flashes of pasts that weren’t really his but then again were still could pop up unwanted.

It had been a night, quite similar to this. Three people in front of a fire while the snow was raging outside. A semblance so strong Murata couldn’t ignore it.

He had been the Daikenja then, the previous life he was known for. And Shinou had been there too. Murata wondered what the people would say if they knew that even he had trouble remembering their true names.

Memory is a funny thing you see. Sometimes you can recall things as if you just experienced them seconds ago, with details you didn’t even think you had noticed. Other times memories were tightly locked away, hidden under other useless information that wouldn’t let you find what you had been looking for. And on some rare occasions memories were just memories, even if you hadn’t really experienced them yourself.

This had been a pleasant memory though. And after his slight annoyance had passed away he might even be glad this sprung upon him. Good memories were so few and far in between. Maybe, he would indulge himself. Just this once.

-*-*-*-

The double black had never been so glad to see a single cabin in the wilderness before. During another one of the quests Shinou had whimsically decided to go on they had been caught by a surprise snowstorm. Turns out not even Shinou could control the weather. Yet.

The Daikenja was occasionally shooting worried glances at Shinou. All of their clothes had gotten soaked and even Rufus’ desperate attempts with fire magic wasn’t enough to keep them from shivering. So the lonely abandoned cabin was gladly welcomed by all three of them.

They hurried inside and quickly closed the door. A quick scan told them the building had been abandoned in a hurry. Cabins were hanging half open and the table still had some bowls on them. The family that had lived her had probably gotten interrupted during dinner. It was sad, the Daikenja supposed, but after realizing they had left almost all their possessions he didn’t feel too bad. At least now they would have food and other necessities.

“What luck that we stumbled upon this house.” Rufus said relieved now that His Majesty was no longer in danger of freezing to death.

“Hmph. How weak. That we had to rely on luck.” Shinou scoffed and promptly sat down in the comfiest looking chair, legs wide and arms crossed.

“Your Majesty?”

“Just let him sulk, Rufus.” The Daikenja finally deemed it right to interfere. “He’s just grumpy because he’s cold and wet.”

“I’m not sulking!”

Well, try to explain that pout then.

“No matter. There’s an issue we need to address first. Your Majesty, Rufus, please take off your clothes.”

Their reactions were imminent. Shinou half shot up from his chair, now much more interested, resting his head on his hands, while Rufus hugged her chest and turned away with a beginning blush. He probably could have worded that better, the Daikenja realized, but the damage had already been done.

“Could this be. . . My Daikenja, are you finally showing us your dark side.” Shinou said with glee, the smile on his face infuriating.

“So even sir Daikenja has thoughts like this. . .”

“No you two!” He couldn’t believe he had to raise his voice. “We need to get out of these wet clothes or we’re going to freeze.”

Shinou only started that low chuckle of his that left the Daikenja feeling quite quaint.

“Relax, my Daikenja. I was just kidding. I would be different if you were two beautiful women, of course.”

“I-I-I’m going to start a fire. Please excuse me.” Rufus announced promptly and turned to the empty hearth.

“Did I say something wrong?” Shinou asked, genuinely confused and the Daikenja could barely restrain a sign. Honestly, this man could be so brilliant and clueless at the same time. Luckily that’s why he had him at his side, to notice the things the king didn’t.

“Just let Rufus be. A fire will be helpful.”

“He’s not going to overexert himself though? He’s been using his maryoku all day.”

“Are you worried? That’s not like you.” The Daikenja said with a faint smile and Shinou’s eyes were drawn to him again.

“I do care about my people, you know. I’m not completely heartless.”

It was such an offhanded comment that the Daikenja felt himself grow fonder of this man, not that he would ever directly say it out loud. Instead he made sure that Shinou was still watching him before saying.

“I know.”

It was Shinou who broke eye contact first, opting instead to watch Rufus light up the small logs.

“. . . If you know then stop questioning me.”

“But if I don’t who will.” Shinou turned to him again. “Now, undress. I wasn’t kidding when I said it was urgent.”

The moment was lost and Shinou finally started to undress. From the corner of his eye the Daikenja shot a quick look to Rufus. Her movements had slowed down and she was now nervously looking anywhere but Shinou’s increasingly naked body. He supposed he should give her a way out.

“Rufus.” He addressed her kindly while unclasping his cape. “After we finish undressing can you go look for some dry clothes. It’s probable that the previous owners left some behind.”

“R-Right, sir Daikenja.” Rufus stammered as she still struggled to keep her eyes from wandering. “Actually, why don’t I go look for them right now.”

They both watch as she hurries from the room and hastily closes the door behind her.

“Now that I think about it, I have never seen Rufus undress with us before.” Shinou says after he resumes undressing. “He must be very shy.”

“Don’t go prying later.” The Daikenja immediately warns him. He takes the discarded wet clothes and hangs them on some antlers that are mounted on the wall next to the hearth. It would take a while for them to dry completely if not the entire night.

Shinou moves towards the window and seems completely comfortable strolling around naked in someone else’s house. The Daikenja, on the other hand, feels too much exposed, too vulnerable, even here in a lonely cabin with people he should trust. Instead, he sits, his leg over his other, covering his parts, and quietly obverses his king.

Thoughts seemed to possess Shinou’s mind, coupled with a faint impatience. It wouldn’t be long now before Shinou would give them voice.

“You’re quiet.” Shinou said as he turned to him. “This is just a minor setback, you know. As soon as the snow lets up we’ll be out of here and achieve our goal.”

“You’re right.” The Daikenja said and Shinou seemed to beam with pride at the words. “Something like this won’t stop us. But I still feel like I have to tell you to be more careful.”

“It’s not like I’m reckless.” Shinou immediately argued.

“I never said you were.” He was arrogant, full of himself and bratty even, but not reckless. Shinou didn’t play to lose. “But you do lose your edge when things don’t go your way.”

Shinou seemed ready to argue some more but eventually resigned himself to the only person he would ever allow himself to.

“But that’s why I have you, my Daikenja. You, my number one strategist, would never allow me to fail.”

“And what if I’m no longer here.” The Daikenja barely whispered. They lived dangerous lives and he didn’t know if he would walk next to his king forever. Shinou however didn’t seem to appreciate the unspoken advice. Instead a scowl worthy of a Maou clouded his face and he marched over to where the Daikenja was sitting, looming over him.

“Are you planning on-“ He spat out.

“No.” The Daikenja said firmly, keeping his gaze steady. Shinou’s nose flared for a second before his features relaxed again.

“Then don’t talk like that.”

It seemed neither were very comfortable with the silence that followed and their gaze broke. As the Daikenja instead focused on Shinou’s drying hair he wondered if perhaps he should continue, no matter how uneasy the subject was for both of them. But Shinou never gave him the chance.

“You seem cold.” The man spoke as he traced his fingers over the Double Black’s goosebumps. The Daikenja swallowed. When had those appeared?

It was of course that moment that Rufus decided to come back.

“Your Majesty, Sir Daikenja, I found some- !!!” Her voice broke in a high shrill after she saw the position the two of them were in, her hand immediately clasped itself over her eyes while she held the clothes she had found for them out in a shaky hand. “I-I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to walk in on-!”

“Ah, Rufus, perfect timing.” Shinou said unfazed and he strolled over to her to grab the clothes. “Hmm, let’s see which one will suit me best. Huh? They’re all the same.”

“These were all I could find, Your Majesty. It seemed like the owners all had the same hideous taste.”

And indeed, the outfit Shinou handed him wasn’t very flattering. Similar to what Rufus and Shinou were now wearing the Daikenja was clothed in a red woolen sweater, abundantly decorated by the makes apparent love for red nosed reindeers. The pants at least, although also a striking red, were of a normal cut and lined with white fur.

“Well, at least there is no one to see His Majesty dressed like that.” The Daikenja muttered, now no longer shivering.

“What are you talking about, my Daikenja. We match, don’t we.”

“We all match.” Rufus added more for herself.

“This cabin is getting stranger by the minute though. Are you sure you didn’t find anything else, Rufus?” Now that they were no longer in danger of freezing to death it would be wise to take a closer look at their shelter. They still didn’t know why the owners had left in a hurry.

“None, Sir Daikenja. Just stacks of red sweaters and some fur lined coats.”

“Hmmm, I think I want to know more about the people who lived here.” The Daikenja said, his hand coming to rest on his chin. “I propose we invite ourselves for a little tour.”

“Anything you want.” Shinou said with that confident grin of his.

“You know I’m going to hold you to that someday soon.”

After a quite look in the bedroom Rufus had already checked out, and confirmed the owners love for red and white themed clothes, they advanced to the rest of the house.

The kitchen was next. It was a humble one, nothing like the ones the staff used when they held court at one of the many castles, nor was it as big as the makeshift kitchen tents hastily set up at the camp sites.

It was also surprisingly quite modern. It had an oven and even a water pipe system that seemed to come from a water barrel outside. Though that one would have likely frozen with this weather.

The cabinets, however, were fully stocked. Most contained food that was easily preservable and they found some salted meats and smoked fish.

“Well, the good news is that even if we’re going to be snowed in we won’t starve.” The Daikenja said with a satisfied smile. Sure, he hadn’t cooked much in a while and Shinou wasn’t allowed to cook anything after last time – he just didn’t have the patience – but between himself and Rufus he supposed they could whip up something edible.

“I have some better news.” Shinou said while searching through some other cabinets. “I found their alcohol stash.”

“Put that back.” The Daikenja responses immediately.

“You never let me have any fun.” Shinou nearly whined. They both knew it wasn’t true. The Daikenja was far too lenient with Shinou. But he couldn’t help it. There was something about his king that drew you in. Damn it, Shinou, for being so. . .

“I wonder what kind of person His Majesty becomes after drinking?” Rufus said contemplating, having returned from gathering some snow to turn into water.

“Why, Rufus. I have an amazing tolerance. I never get drunk.” Shinou boasted, but wisely set the alcohol back down.

“This guy, he turns into a clingy old lecher.” The Daikenja deadpanned.

“Oi, don’t tell him that so casually. Don’t listen to him, Rufus. I’m the perfect drunk.”

“I want to see it, the face His Majesty makes when drunk.” Rufus’ smile was so sweet both Shinou and the Daikenja felt themselves lost for words for a few seconds before the Daikenja returned the smile.

“W-well, if we’re not going to drink we might as well check the rest of the rooms.” Shinou said as he walked past them muttering something about Siegbert having iron self-control. As expected, a smile like that was enough to floor even the smoothest of men. Though the Daikenja still wasn’t sure if Shinou was aware of Rufus’ true gender. Probably not.

As they left the kitchen the Daikenja lingered a bit behind the two and he briefly checked to see if Shinou was out of earshot before whispering to Rufus.

“Nothing this man could do could make you hate him, huh?”

Rufus slowed her pace and started walking next to him, very aware of the real meaning behind the words.

“The same goes for you, too. Right, Sir Daikenja?” She replied in the same knowing tone, both of their eyes never leaving their king’s back. With a finality the Daikenja realized they never stood a chance.

“I’d rather not find out if that’s true.” He finally settled on saying. He didn’t have to look to feel Rufus agree.

“I think this is the only room we haven’t checked.” Shinou said as he abruptly stopped in front of a single door at the end of a hallway.

“Why would this room be located so far from the others?” Rufus asked as they caught up, standing on the tip of her toes to peer over Shinou’s shoulders. It was a good question, the Daikenja thought and he looked for any other abnormalities.

The door creaked heavily as Shinou swung it open and they saw that it wasn’t technically a room. Instead it revealed an old staircase that let straight into the darkness.

“A basement?” The Daikenja said surprised. He certainly wouldn’t have pecked this cabin to have one. The building was located on a solid rock, digging out a decent sized basement would have been a pricy business.

“Hmmm, this certainly makes me curious.” Shinou hummed, trying to peer inside.

“Please, Your Majesty, allow me.” Rufus jumped to the front and lighted her fire once more. The Daikenja felt better knowing that she would go first if something were to happen and not Shinou, but at this rate Rufus would overexert herself. Shinou knew it too.

“Rufus.” He warned her.

“I’ll keep it small. I’ll be fine.” And under the watchful eyes of Shinou and the Daikenja she traveled down the stairs.

The small light twinkled gently in her hands and lighted the path enough for them to see.

“There appears to be no one here.” Rufus yelled up as she had reached the bottom. Shinou and the Daikenja soon joined her.

The Daikenja surveyed the room, tracing his hand on the wall left to him. As expected the walls were made of the same rock the room had been carved out of. He shifted his weighted from one foot to the other, checking for any signs of breaking. Though the wooden floor underneath them squeaked whenever they walked, it seemed to hold up pretty well.

After inspecting their close surroundings Rufus sent her flame forward. This time they could see a couple of benches, littered with work tools. Saws in all sizes lay together with chisels, drills and gouges. Shinou strolled over and picked up one of the knives before turning his eyes on the projects the tools had been creating. It was a small wooden horse on wheels, fasten with a string around its collar. Shinou pulled the rope gently and moved the horse along.

“It’s a toy workshop.” The Daikenja said as he spotted more and more toys laying around and picked up a nearby wooden miniature of a warrior. Though unfinished, the details on the woodworks were near astonishing and the Daikenja could just make out a carved frown on the warrior’s tiny face.

Without a reason he put the miniature in his pocket, feeling the strange urge to keep the figurine.

From the corner of his eye the Daikenja could see Rufus freeze. She had previously been testing some of the toys too, her flame swinging a bit from side to side, but now her movements had stilled.

“Rufus, are you alright?” The Daikenja asked as he followed her line of sight.

It was the back wall, the one furthest from the stairs so they hadn’t seen it previously. Hanging on it, from top to bottom were shelves stacked with doll heads. Some were small, others large with wisps of hair hanging from their crowns. But they all had the same unnerving glass eyes that stared into nothingness.

“I don’t know.” Shinou said as he came to stand next to them, his fingers over his chin in a pose that would be more proper in an art gallery. “I kind of like the aesthetic it has going on.”

Rufus didn’t seem to think so and after the initial shock had worn off her hands started shaking furiously.

Someone must have shifted their weight because the floorboard creaked again. Rufus eeped before accidentally letting her flame go out.

They had expected total darkness to follow after their only source of light went out but were surprised when a green glow seemed to echo off the wall.

The glow came from the dolls eyes, Hundreds of little lights faintly flickering in the dark, shining their faint glow on the head themselves, making them appear to be floating. The Daikenja hoped it was only his imagination but the pupils that had before just stared aimlessly ahead now seemed to be turned on them.

The three made their decision unanimously and slowly backed away to the stairs. Once up they shut the door, locked it and in Rufus’ case even welded the lock close. It wasn’t until Shinou and Rufus had placed the wardrobe in front of the entrance that they felt remotely at ease.

“You know what. Maybe I could use a drink right now.” The Daikenja said after the whole ordeal, the toy warrior still in his pocket.

An hour or so later they had sat down in front of the fire. Wanting to remain as close as possible to the fire they had dragged the beds into the living room. Now with blankets and pillows all around them and their bellies full with the soup they had made, they were cozying in the warmth of the flames. They had also dragged all the bottles of wine with them, one and a half were already emptied.

“Why is it,” Shinou asked after they had opened the third bottle. “That even though I’m king I still don’t have beautiful ladies hanging off me. You would think they’d come swarming. But no, I’m always either in a meeting or on the battlefield. I mean, I absolutely love the thrill of battle, but it would be even more perfect if afterward I could have a woman or two.

“Oh how terrible.” The Daikenja said sarcastically, his words slurring a bit more than he’d like. Rufus just giggled lightly at the playful mockery, her cheeks glowing with a healthy red. “Whatever shall you do.”

“His Majesty sure has no luck huh.” Rufus said, a giggle ringing on every word.

“See. Rufus gets it.” Shinou said and he swung his arm around her.

“Careful.” The Daikenja warned as the action had spilled a bit of the wine. He fruitlessly dabbed the damp spot before deciding it wasn’t worth the effort. Meanwhile Rufus refilled Shinou’s now empty glass.

“My Daikenja, get here.” Shinou said dragging his last words before taking another swing of his drink.

“I am here.”

“Noooo, here here.” And Shinou gestured with his unoccupied arm, the other still encircling Rufus. “Come.”

Ah. . . Well, if it was a command from his King, the Daikenja reasoned, he shouldn’t refuse it.

He crawled over, a bit shy at first, before laying himself in Shinou’s open arm. Shinou immediately pulled him close and the Daikenja’s black hair spilled all over Shinou’s chest.

“This is good.” Shinou said contempt. “You know, both of you have such long hair I can almost imagine myself with two women.”

“How about some more wine, You Majesty. Your glass is almost empty.” Rufus didn’t wait for his answer and poured his cup full again.

Rufus, are you trying to get him drunk on purpose?

“Listen you two.” Shinou said, not caring that he was getting to the point that he would wake up with a killer hangover. “This is very important. It’s a big secret. I have another reason why I have you two in my arms other than your pretty hair.”

Shinou tried to sit up straighter but instead ended up leading a bit too much to the front.

“When it’s cold like this, it’s very important to share body heat. In fact, skin to skin contact might be necessary. We should get naked.”

“No, we will not!” The Daikenja said firmly, feeling a bit disappointed at himself for expecting a real secret from his king. Shinou only pouted.

“Buuuut, my Daikenja. We might die.” He whined. “I can’t let my Daikenja die. My Daikenja can’t die. That would make me. . .”

Whether the distress of his king was genuine or not, the Daikenja still felt the need to comfort him.

“We won’t die. We’re in front of a fire and we exchanged our wet clothes for dry ones, remember.” The Daikenja let his head rest freely on Shinou’s chest. It was a good thing they were wearing red, his face wouldn’t stand out so much.

“So you’ll stay with me.” Shinou said content, keeping both of them close to his chest. It didn’t matter. It made a fine pillow anyway.

Meanwhile Rufus has somehow managed the impossible feat of removing their glasses to a safe distance while still being held trapped in the king’s arm.

“It was still an important secret though.” Shinou said now that the both of them had settled back down in his arms. He lay on his back, a few pillows keeping him comfort while their feet huddled together for warmth.

“It’s a good one.” Rufus decided. “I will pass this down to my family and they will do the same.”

“I don’t really know if it counts as a secret, though.” The Daikenja mumbled but no one really seemed to hear.

Shinou was dozing off. His eyes were falling shut and by the rising of his chest the Daikenja knew it wouldn’t be long before he was completely asleep.

Opposite to him Rufus was taking full advantage of her position and nuzzled into the crook of Shinou’s arm. When she caught the Daikenja observing her she had the decency to look away.

“It won’t be easy.” The Daikenja told her. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to tell her this, but something compelled him to talk. Rufus turned to him again. Their eye met, sharing a camaraderie; a shared bond for this man that held them captive.

“This man, he hides things and won’t ever be completely honest.”

“I know His Majesty lies to us sometimes.” Rufus said.

“He doesn’t like to rely on others.” He continued. “He won’t know his own limits.”

“We’ll carry his burdens. When he can’t carry them.” Rufus whispered back.

“He takes more than he’s willing to give.”

Why was he listing this?

“He will use you as he sees fit.”

Who was he warning?

“I’ll do anything.” Rufus finally said, echoing his own feelings.

A faint smile formed on his face. Resistance was truly futile.

“Careful. It may just come to that.”

The Daikenja was a brilliant man. Maou Shinou’s best strategist and number one confidant. He really ought to listen to his own advice more often.

-*-*-*-

Huh, what happened after that?

Murata racked his brain, trying to find the corresponding memory but seemed to draw a blank.

Though it was no wonder he suddenly remembered that night in the cabin.

“Oi, Murata. Just because you’re done with your task doesn’t mean you get to space out like that.” Shibuya reminded him. “Though I finally finished.”

Oh well. Murata smiled. It might have looked a bit familiar, but this king in front of him was far kinder.

. . . And currently trying to keep himself from falling asleep. It seemed his duties as the Great Sage would never end.

“Ah, Sorry, Shibuya. I just got caught up in something.” Murata said and then as he as Shibuya’s curious face, he added. “It was nothing important really. Though I better start doing my part.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m going to help you deliver the presents of course. As King and the Great Sage we can share the role of Santa. Even on Earth that man has many helpers, though I’m not going to wear a beard. My face will get warm and my glasses will fog up.”

Murata stood up and put the final presents in the large bag.

“In fact, why don’t I go ahead so you can put Lord von Bielefeld into a proper bed. He’s going to get a crick in his neck at this point.”

“Fine, but don’t deliver everything before I can catch up. I’ve been waiting all week for this.”

“Have you seen the size of that bag. I’m probably not even going to be done with this wing before you come join me.”

With a bit more trouble that he would like to admit Murata swung the bag over his shoulder, giving Shibuya and the sleeping form of Lord von Bielefeld a quick wave before opening the door.

From behind him a voice rang out to him.

“Nee, Murata.”

“What is it, Shibuya?”

“Thanks for always looking out for us.”

“. . . Don’t mention it. . .”

#kyou kara maou #KKM #KKM Secret Santa #Heytsuki #Murata #shibuya yuuri #Shinou #Daikenja #Rufus von Bielefeld #Fic #Loozje's Fic #yuuri

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