Tumgik
#i barely draw animals as it is so i thought id have trouble
stcharls-st · 1 month
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Lackacats
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here4theheartbreak · 4 years
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Who’s the King?
AO3 Link Here!
Relationships: Min Yoongi x Min Yoongi Genre(s): Smut, Angst
Rating: Explicit Tags: Self-cest (sorta), Alternate Universe, Inspired by Daechwita (Music Video), Royalty AU, Parallel Universes, Violence, Mild Blood, Minor Jeon Jungkook/Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Minor Kim Namjoon | RM/Kim Seokjin | Jin, Mentioned Kim Taehyung | V/Park Jimin, Minor Character Death, First Kiss, Barebacking, Riding, Rimming, Oral Sex, Coming Untouched, Angst with a Happy Ending
Summary: Suga gets thrown into an alternate timeline. It's the Joseon dynasty - sort of - but the country is being ruled by his cruel doppelgänger- King Min Yoongi. Suga gets wrapped up in an assassination plot in order to get home, but learns that everything isn’t always as it seems.
Word Count: ~20.1k
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His head was pounding as soon as he opened his eyes. Why was it so bright? What did he do the night before?
“Hey, Mister – I don’t think you should be here,” came a small voice to his left. He turned, squinting against the unforgiving morning sun. The small child was dressed in rags, his feet bare and hair long and messy. A streak of dirt was running across his nose.
“What?”
The boy gasped a little. “Wow, what a big scar… Who are you? How’d you get into my yard?”
“Your yard?” He growled. “I’m fucking Suga, shouldn’t you recognize me?”
The little boy tilted his head and giggled. “That’s a funny name. I’m Namkyu. Are you okay, Mister Suga?”
Suga coughed, lifting himself first onto his knees and then standing. He looked around, brows furrowed. The last thing he remembered was stumbling out of the club in Hongdae with Jin, laughing about scaring the pants off some wannabe gangster who’d tried to rough them up.
Now he was in a dirt patch, surrounded with a shabbily placed fence. A small hut was to his left, the door hanging crooked. A large, white dog sat on the porch.
“Where am I?”
“Hanseong. This is my house.” Namkyu pointed. “How’d you get here? You’re wearing really funny clothes.” He reached out and touched one of the zippers on Suga’s jacket. “Is it metal?”
“I—Hanseong?” He repeated.
“Sure! The capital.” Namkyu pointed upward. Suga followed where he was pointing, seeing a large, towering structure on a hill. It looked like the capitol buildings that Suga had seen in history books in school. He furrowed his brows.
“It’s 2020, right?”
“What’s that?”
Suga spun around, panic clenching his throat. “Who is ruling?” He asked suddenly.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” Namkyu asked. “Everyone knows the ruler. King Min Yoongi.”
“What did you say his name was?”
“King Min Yoongi. He’s the youngest King we’ve had. No one really knows what he looks like except a certain few… He’s pretty mean to the village though, so we kinda all hope…” Namkyu shrugged and smiled sheepishly.
“Namkyu! Who’s that?” Suga looked up, seeing an older woman open the door.
“Gramma! I found him in the yard!” Namkyu called. Eager to prevent the inevitable scream for the police, Suga hurried up to her and bowed.
“My name is Suga, ma’am. I’m so sorry to intrude, I wandered in last night. I had been drinking, I’m from out of town. Could you point me to the city exit?” He asked. Her eyes narrowed. She glanced over at Namkyu then back at Suga before pointing to the left.
“Go out our gate and follow the road. You can’t miss the village gates. But if you’re not from around here, you’d best move quickly… The guards don’t take kindly to strangers wandering in unpermitted.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Suga bowed low once more and turned.
“Oh wait. Take this.” She disappeared in the hut for a moment before returning with a large conical hat. “That scar is pretty noticeable. You could frighten someone, or catch the wrong attention.”
Suga hesitated then took it, carefully tying it under his chin. “Thank you.”
He glanced at Namkyu, who was looking at him with his head cocked. He smiled a little and nodded. “And thank you for waking me up, Namkyu. I would have been in a lot of trouble if you hadn’t. Can you imagine the sunburn?”
Namkyu grinned then. “Nice meeting you, Mr. Suga.”
Suga chuckled and headed out, slipping through the gate onto the dirt path. He could see a horse coming up from the left, and to the right he could hear the bustle of people. He stepped as far off the road as he dared, lowering the hat over his face to hide his scar. He walked toward the bustling noise, his mind working a million miles an hour.
Last night was the year 2020, and he’d been in Seoul. He was the leader of a relatively powerful and well-known street gang. His best friends were Jin and Namjoon. He’d been out drinking – celebrating. And then he woke up… Here. Wherever here was. It was clearly Korea, they spoke the same language, but Hanseong? Seoul hadn’t been called Hanseong since the Joseon dynasty, if his schooling hadn’t failed. And the King...
Only a few living people knew Suga’s real name. Jin and Namjoon knew it, of course – they were his closest friends and confidants. His parents, though he never spoke to his mother and his father died three years before. And he supposed the children in school back in Daegu, but many of them – according to varied reports, thought he had died at some point. To everyone else, he was Suga. His real name though, the one on his birth certificate from that rundown hospital, was Min Yoongi. The King’s name.
Suga reached the market district and was immediately taken aback. It was bustling with life, stalls lining the road as people walked or led animals through. The annoyed shouting of salesmen and laughter of children, the promises of fresh meat, real spices, sweet fruits. The scents of a village – manure, home cooking, fish, and perfumes – permeated the air around Suga, making him a bit woozy. He could see the gates of the city rising up in the distance, and rushed down the street toward them. He kept his head low, unsure what would happen if someone called him out for not belonging. His clothing and shoes were out of place, and he could feel the weight of his pistol still in his inner pocket. How had he gotten here?
Suga bumped into a tall, slender villager in his rush, mumbling a canned apology. “Yoongi?”
Suga hesitated. He turned and looked at the man he’d run into. Jin stood in front of him, dressed head to toe in clothing of the period they seemed to be in. A fishing rod was slung over his shoulder.
“Jin!” Suga cried, hurrying toward him. Jin’s eyes widened. He grabbed Suga’s jacket as soon as he was within reach and slung them both off the street, pinning Suga against a wall behind a couple of stalls.
He backed up immediately and dropped into a full bow, forehead to the ground. “Apologies, my King. I was so startled seeing you out and about, I needed to hide you.”
“Wh—” A wave of nausea began to form in the pit of Suga’s stomach.
“Jin. Please, it’s me. It’s Suga… Please tell me you know where we are.”
Jin looked up hesitantly, his brows furrowed. “What sort of alias is Suga? What does that mean?”
“Wh—Jin, come on. We were out having drinks last night.”
Jin rose, stepping close to Suga. His eyes narrowed as he searched his face.
“You… You’re not King Min.”
“Goddamnit, Jin, this isn’t funny!” Suga snapped, shoving Jin backwards. “Where the fuck are we?”
Jin stumbled, then went forward. He dropped his pole and turned his net, jamming the handle into Suga’s stomach. The pain radiated through Suga’s entire body and he doubled over, groaning. Jin slammed him back against the rough brick wall, using his body to pin Suga’s and the net handle against his throat.
“Who are you?” Jin hissed, going almost nose to nose with him. “Why do you look like the King?”
Suga struggled for his pistol, but the Jin lookalike in front of him had him firmly pinned. This wasn’t his Jin. His Jin was sweet, an older brother and confidant, always supportive. Gentle. The man he trusted with his entire life.
“My name is Suga,” he rasped. “I don’t give a fuck about your King. I just want to find out where I am. I’m from 2020. Seoul, South Korea.”
Jin’s eyes narrowed. He relaxed the pressure of the net enough to let Suga draw in a much-needed breath.
“How do I know you’re not lying?”
“Why would I lie? Do I look like I belong here? I was out drinking with my friends last night in the year 2020. I’m twenty-seven, I have a small dog named Holly. I lead a gang of guys who spend their days fundraising for gay groups and fighting against capitalism for fuck’s sake. My best friends are Kim Seokjin and Kim Namjoon. They’re lovers.” Suga’s shoulders slumped a little as he relaxed against Jin’s grip. “I just wanna get home.” He muttered. The fight drained from his body, replaced with fear and nerves as he spoke. Tough covers or not, he was lost, and arguing against everyone and everything would do him no favors.
“If I let you go – you won’t run?”
“Not if you can help me.”
Jin lowered the net and stepped back. Suga coughed, rubbing his sore throat.
“My name is Kim Seokjin too. I grew up serving the royal family. I’m King Min’s personal servant. Kim Namjoon… He’s a smart man,” Jin smiled a little, a familiar expression that had Suga aching for his Jin. “He writes. Very well educated. He’s a doctor.”
“He’s crazy smart where I’m from too. Are you and he…”
“Uh..” Jin chuckled and shrugged. “Sort of.”
“I know this is weird…”
“That’s an understatement… There are so many people eager to end the King’s reign… How can I trust you?”
“I’m going to reach into my pocket, okay? Don’t freak out.”
Jin’s grip tightened on his net, but he nodded once.
Suga reached into his jeans, pulling out his wallet. He held it up and opened it, withdrawing his driver’s license. “See?” He held it out for Jin.
Jin blinked at it. “What’s this?”
“My ID. It says my name and my age and everything.”
“It… I can’t read this.”
Suga scowled. “What do you mean? It’s right there!”
“I was never taught,” Jin shrugged.
Suga’s face dropped. He’d get nowhere like this. He pulled out a ten thousand won banknote and held it up. “Look! Money from my time. This is Sejong the Great. He was King.”
Jin took the banknote and flipped it over, his brows furrowed and mouth in a concentrated pout. “You say this is money? But it’s just paper. Sejong was never King. He was Yoongi’s brother, the title was stripped from him. Yoongi was named heir.”
“It’s what we use. That or these.” He held up one of his credit cards. Jin plucked the card from his fingers. He flipped it over, scowling.
“What is this?”
“A piece of plastic.”
“It’s money?”
“It stores money. Hey!” Suga tugged the card out of Jin’s hand when he made a motion to bend it. He put his wallet away and rubbed his temples. “This is ridiculous.”
He leaned back against the wall, puffing out his cheeks in thought. “So, it’s not time travel, that’s impossible… And the timeline is wrong, Sejong was made King… So what is it. A giant joke? No, that’s… Impossible. Am I sleeping?”
Suga dug his thumbnail into his arm, hissing. “Not sleeping. Drugged?”
He rubbed his arm over the rough wall behind him, scowling. No, that felt pretty normal. He examined the light hairs on his arm… Normal. He reached out for Jin. That cloth should be rough.
Jin stepped back, smacking Suga’s hand out of the way. “What the hell are you doing?” He cried.
“Making sure I’ve not been drugged,” Suga grumbled. He touched the fabric of Jin’s shirt and nodded. “Okay… So, I’m not drunk, not drugged, not dreaming.”
“No, you’re standing in the middle of the marketplace acting like an animal,” Jin grumbled, crossing his arms.
Suga huffed. “Well, do you have any useful advice then?” He asked, flinging his arms out in frustration.
“Well, there is the royal advisor. councils the King in everything and knows almost everything. I don’t know that I believe your tale of being from the future or… A different future… But it would make sense to go to him. If someone that knew the King’s face were to see you on the street… Things may happen.”
“What things?”
Jin twitched his head to the side, shrugging. “The King is not adored in the village.”
“Why not? You mentioned people eager to end his reign…”
“It’s not my place to say, especially not to someone I know nothing about. And is wearing his face… Down even to his scar.” Jin touched Suga’s cheek. He jerked back.
“I don’t like being touched.”
“Nor does the King.” Jin shook his head. “The resemblance… It is frighteningly uncanny. It’s as if the boy I grew up with is standing in front of me, wearing such rags and… This dark hair.” He grimaced. Suga touched his own hair peeking out from under the hat.
“What color is his hair?”
“White as snow. Long and beautiful,” Jin said proudly. “Anyway… Come. Let me get you to the palace. But… I’m still not sure…” He pressed his lips into a thin line, looking Suga up and down. Suga scowled, crossing his arms.
“What’re you staring at?”
“You look so strange. These clothes.” Jin touched one of the zippers on Suga’s coat. “And the fabric of your pants.”
“Yeah, they’re jeans. They’re comfy. Better than whatever the hell canvas you’re wearing,” Suga grumbled. Jin frowned and looked down at his clothes. “My brother’s partner made me these. They’re very comfortable.”
Suga scoffed. “Whatever. How do you suggest I blend in more?”
“Well, I think you and my brother are the same size. Come to our home. I’ll let you borrow something of his.”
“Nuh-uh. I am not wearing any potato sacks.”
“It’s better that than be killed on the spot by one of the royal guards, isn’t it? Not that I would be hurt if you were… Has anyone ever told you that you have quite an abrasive personality?”
Suga laughed, both out of surprise and humor. “I’ve been told.”
“But I have to admit… I am curious how this all ends up. So hopefully you don’t die too quickly. Come on, my home is right back this way.”
Suga followed reluctantly after Jin, having to dodge a few times to avoid his pole and net. He peeked around the marketplace as they walked, hit with a pang of homesickness. Today in his world would have been Saturday. He and Jin would have met up with Taehyung and gone down to the soup kitchen, volunteering with some of the homeless. They would have all spent the evening together, playing games and wandering the city he loved so deeply.
Suga was lost deeply enough in his thoughts that he bumped into Jin’s back when he stopped. “Hey—” Jin turned and put a finger to his own lips.
“Shh now, don’t wake them.” He whispered.
Suga peeked over Jin’s broad shoulder, surprised to see the “them” Jin was talking about was a large, beautiful black dog with a coat of long, shaggy fur, and a younger man, hat pulled over his face to hide from the sun, sleeping on the dog’s side.
Jin crept around the two with comically exaggerated movements, using his pole and net as a sort of balancing rod.
Suga cocked a brow, looking once more at the dog and boy pair. He shrugged and followed after Jin, the toe of his sneaker scuffing a rock in the path. Jin winced visibly and turned. The dog’s eyes were open, staring directly at Jin. He let out a low, deep woof, and the sleeping boy stirred. He sat up, pushing his hat back. Suga was taken aback by how familiar he looked. Long, dark hair in a ponytail, and a perfectly shaped nose and mouth, he could have easily been an idol in Seoul.
“Kim Seokjin!” He snarled, revealing large front teeth that would have looked comical if not for his already impossible beauty. “I’m going to get you!” He scrambled to his feet and took off, the dog following close behind. Jin screamed and bolted toward an opening in a fence, kicking up dirt and rocks as he ran.
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hikari-ni-naritai · 3 years
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Oh my god I even connect the dots on that gotdamn. That's an emberassing way to find out. Still thanks for ur thoughts!!! I never thought of Mami being like that in a relationship but youre so right goddamn. On a side note though, Is it weird Id like the twitter girl to be uh, smaller, even if thats the main appeal? Not her necessarilyI just want more nerdy looking glasses girls I guess lol. Though I wanna protect her too.. Wonder why I like girls who're popular wjth dudes being gay. Fuck. Im a little very tired but I havr feelings about random girlss you kno? ddlc+ really makes Yur i amazing too honestly. Sorry for makingn you put up with thiss im barely awakèee. who else do I talk about cute girld thTat should be gay though. hope you dknt mind?? Also Ibwonddér what your boobee size limit is liiieke? I dint really care but I may be desensityzed kver the yrses. however mkre girls should apprexiate anime girlks I wana fawn over the qwith tgenm sorry agaun tired emotions amre dstrkg I ddiddnt knis nekopare was made bt a girl tgough so thanm yku for tgag jnfk.
anon did you have a stroke? are you okay?
anyway i think a lot about all the meguca girls so i know which ones id be able to handle. if they were like. adults. yknow. anyway i dont think its weird to want an anime girl with extreme oversized tits to have smaller more realistic tits. i think thats a normal thing. and dont worry im not bothered by you coming in here to talk about girls that should be gay! you're allowed! thats why im here, to talk about girls that are or should be gay. though i am having trouble figuring out what youre talking about in the last half here. do you mean like. what size of boobs i like on girls? im not super picky i just dont care for obvious Extreme Tit Fetish characters. yknow?
nekopara was created by a woman, yes! basically an excuse to draw pictures of catgirls in goth lolita fashion. she likes ribbons as much as square enix likes belts. unconscionable number of ribbons on these catgirls. very cute!
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patchwork-panda · 4 years
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If A Moment Is All We Are (13/?)
AO3 link: here (Fun fact: This was actually one of the earliest scenes written and is one of the reasons why I decided to turn this story into a full fic.)
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“Kyou-chan, is that you?!”
A stack of papers fell to the ground. Kirako stared at me from the reception area, her mouth dropping open in shock as I stepped through the doors into the Armed Detective Agency’s main office.
“You look amazing! I almost didn’t recognize you!”
“Don’t just stand there!” Yosano insisted, planting two black-gloved hands on my back and shoving me forward when she noticed I’d actually stopped moving. “Go inside! We need to show you off!”
Ignoring the uncomfortable whining noises coming out of my throat, Yosano kept pushing me deeper and deeper into the room until I was standing in the middle of the office, stiff as a statue as the other receptionists and detectives shuffled forward to see what the commotion was about.
“Gather round, everyone!” Yosano called, as if I were a show pony being brought in for a performance, “I give you... the new and improved Kyou-chan! Doesn’t she look like a proper detective now?”
I didn’t just look more like a proper detective now, I looked like an entirely different person—one who didn’t spend the last six months holed up in an apartment watching anime and forgetting to shower. My new “uniform,” as Yosano called it, consisted of several basic pieces. I was wearing a crisp, white short-sleeve blouse with slightly puffy sleeves, tucked into a high-waisted burgundy A-line skirt (same color as my eyes) that ended just around my knees. I wore a pair of coffee-brown Oxfords on my feet with low, white socks and to complete the look, Yosano had tied a bright red ribbon around my neck, to draw attention to my face. She’d also insisted I purchase a tan, blazer-like jacket (it was almost as long as my skirt) for the colder days and a portfolio-style messenger bag for my notebooks and sketching supplies. Overall, the final result was pretty staggering and I noticed we’d definitely gotten a few stares as we walked back to the Agency together.
“Yosano-sensei!” one of the girls exclaimed, raising her hand high in the air. “Do me next! I want a makeover too!”
As Yosano beamed beside me like a proud mother, chatting with the girls about all the shops she’d taken me to—dragged me to, more like—I found myself fiddling with my new clothes again.
“Prepare yourself,” she’d said the other day. I had taken that to mean shaving my legs and showering before we’d gone out. I didn’t realize that I should’ve prepared for a full day’s outing crammed into the span of a few hours. And after the night I’d had too...
Something had happened to my brain the day I’d finished the serial killing/kidnapping case—something strange that I really didn’t want to think too hard about... I couldn’t look Kunikida in the face the entire way back to the Agency and when the tall, blonde detective had insisted on sitting right there next to me for the rest of the evening, I was barely able to concentrate on writing my reports. If I hadn’t offered to finish doing the filing for him, I might’ve never gotten him to leave, and then I really wouldn’t have been able to get anything done. And to think, Kunikida had actually been planning to stay a little later and even walk me home...!
I had to turn him down. My heart would not have been able to handle it.
I ended up staying way later than I initially expected and I was so drained by the time I made it back to my apartment, that it was all I could do to remember to brush and floss before I completely passed out on my futon.
Then, at seven in the morning, just before my alarm was supposed to go off, I woke to the racket of someone ringing my doorbell nonstop and my cell phone buzzing like crazy. If it wasn’t for caller ID, I would’ve assumed it was another prank by Dazai or that the Port Mafia had come to get me but it was only Yosano, coming to take me shopping like she’d promised. I’d wrongfully assumed she’d meant Friday afternoon, after work (it was a rare half-day after all) but no, she wanted to make a day of it.
“You deserve a break after finishing your first major case!” she’d exclaimed, dragging me out the door as soon as I’d finished putting on a pair of shoes. “Now that you’re on your way to becoming a real detective, we need to dress you like one.”
Everything had happened so fast—taking the train to the fashion district—being marched into shops I would never set foot in on my own—getting shoved into dressing rooms with my arms piled high with all sorts of clothes—on and on until hours had passed and I was walking down the street with several bags in my hands and a brand new outfit on my body (I suspected Yosano had quietly disposed of the raggedy hoodie and jeans I’d been wearing when I’d come out this morning). When I asked Yosano about going to work this morning, she just shushed me and shoved another pair of pants at me.
Just when I thought I couldn’t keep up any more, Yosano hooked her arm around mine and redirected me from the train station, where I’d been trying to sneak off, to the front of a fancy-looking hair salon “for the appointment.”
As I stood in the entryway, listing a little from exhaustion, she breezed on through to the back and returned with a young man with bright pink hair at her side. The young man, a friend of “Akiko-san’s,” as he called her, was a stylist at the salon—one of the best in the city, Yosano had proclaimed. He took one look at my choppy ponytail, made the exact face shown in the Edvard Munch’s “The Scream,” and whisked me off towards the back to “fix it.” I wasn’t actually sure I had enough to “fix” but Yosano was right, the man was a genius. I ended up with something similar to a very feminine (and very cute!) boy-cut that blended perfectly with my ruined bangs and ended halfway down my neck.
They even did some light makeup for me as a thank you to Yosano for helping them solve a case a while back. As I reached up and ran my hands through my hair in front of the mirror, I saw the stylist and Yosano exchange an actual high-five from behind me. I had to admit, it felt incredible to see myself looking like this—I had no idea I could be made to look this cute—but now that we were back in the office and people were poking their heads up to look at me, it felt kind of embarrassing.
“Yosano-sensei, you don’t have to shout,” I pleaded, my face growing warm as the clerk girls chattered around me, oohing and ahhing over my new clothes and hair. “Everyone’s still working...!”
“Ugh, talking about work again? You sound like Kunikida-kun,” Yosano said, grimacing. “We gotta make sure you start partnering with some of the other detectives or you’ll turn into a four-eyed workhorse too.”
“H-he’s not that bad...”
“Ohh...?”
Yosano raised an eyebrow, looking a little more closely at my face. She rubbed her chin and I instantly felt my stomach tie itself into a knot. I’d seen that face before, but not on Yosano—this was the same face Dazai liked to make just before he caused trouble. Without warning, Dr. Yosano turned to Kunikida and called out.
“Oi, Kunikida-kun! What do you think? Kyou-chan looks pretty cute like this, right?”
Kunikida looked up. I froze as his gray-green eyes swept over me. It was nothing more than a quick glance up and a single curt nod, but it was still more than enough to make my pulse race. Thankfully, before Yosano could say anything else, Kirako suddenly rushed in.
“Kyou-chan!” she gasped, looking slightly out of breath in her sudden rush forward, “You like bubble tea cafes right?”
Thankful for the distraction, I turned my full attention away from Yosano to her. I hoped Yosano couldn’t see how red my face was getting as she kept trying to direct Kunikida’s attention back to me.
“Yes!” I exclaimed, deliberately trying to ignore Yosano and Kunikida chatting behind me (“You’re sure that’s all?” she teased, poking him upside the head).
“I love cafes! Why do you ask?”
“Perfect! Because if you’re free tomorrow evening, I have a small favor I need to ask of you.”
At once, Kirako’s hands slammed onto my shoulders, with enough force to actually make my knees buckle. Stunned, I stared into her bright green eyes, which suddenly glowed with an intensity strong enough to rival the mid-day sun.
“You see,” she continued casually, her tone contrasting wildly with the manic glint in her eyes, “my old friends from high school invited me to go on a group date. Naomi here is obviously too young—”
“--And not interested!” Naomi called from across the room as Kirako rolled her eyes.
“—And not interested in going. There’s four guys who said they’d come get dinner with us tomorrow but currently only three girls.”
Her grip tightened meaningfully on my shoulders and I had the horrible feeling that perhaps I had been lied to and Kirako was actually a combat member of the Agency. Kirako smiled.
“What do you think? Come with us, Kyou-chan?”
“Uh...” I stammered, my eyes darting about the room as I tried to think of a convincing enough reason to refuse.
“I don’t know...”
Without meaning to, I glanced over at Kunikida’s desk, where the tall, bespectacled detective sat staring thoughtfully at his computer screen, lightly tapping his fingers against his green notebook. He shifted slightly in his chair and for a single, terrifying second, I thought he was going to look up. Heat suddenly flooded into my cheeks and I quickly tore my eyes away before Kunikida could look up—only to look straight into the bright brown eyes of the bandaged detective sitting across from him.
Dazai’s eyes suddenly widened with surprise, then flashed in knowing amusement and I felt every last hair on the back of my neck rise as Dazai slowly grinned at me. When he reached over and poked Kunikida on the forehead, one horrifying thought solidified in my head:
He knows.
“Kyou-chan?”
The sound of Kirako’s voice brought me back and I forced myself to look at her face and not at the detectives behind her, who were now arguing loudly about something I really didn’t want to hear.
“Right. Well, you see—”
“Dazai!! What the hell do you think you’re doing—?!”
“Just trying to cheer you up in the middle of your shift—”
There was a crashing noise and I grimaced, trying and failing to block out the sounds of their fighting as I tried to think of an excuse for why I couldn’t make the group date. I could feel myself getting more and more agitated as the noise level suddenly increased and I stopped trying to talk entirely when Kirako suddenly whirled around and yelled at Dazai and Kunikida in a voice loud enough to make the walls rattle.
“Would you two just SHUT UP!”
Turning her attention back to me, Kirako sighed, rubbing her temple with well-manicured fingers as Dazai and Kunikida abruptly stopped fighting and the room grew quiet at last.
“Now then, where were we? Huh? Kyou-chan, are you okay? Your face is kind of red.”
“YES! I’m totally fine!” I exclaimed.
I clapped my hands over my mouth and groaned as I turned even redder. My voice came out way louder than I’d meant it to and I closed my eyes to block out the stares of everyone within earshot. When I opened my eyes again, I tried as hard as I could to focus on Kirako and only Kirako. I didn’t dare look in the direction of my own desk—if I looked at either Dazai or Kunikida right now, I was finished.
“I mean,” I coughed, my voice sounding strained, even to my own ears, “It’s not a big deal, just... a slight cough. That’s all.”
I hacked out another, more believable cough (I hoped) and averted my eyes when Yosano turned to look at me suspiciously.
“I probably stayed out a little too late yesterday, didn’t drink enough water. You know how it is. I’m not feeling up to an outing right now but maybe next time...?”
I wanted to kick myself. “Next time” meant I’d have to go through this again in the future. Hopefully by then, I would no longer be available to join Kirako on a group date... My eyes once again slid towards Dazai and Kunikida but I was able to force myself to look away before anyone noticed.
“Oh, really?” Kirako sounded disappointed.
She took her hands off my shoulders, leaving the fabric of my jacket slightly wrinkled and sweaty from her grip.
“That’s okay, I understand,” she said, deflating noticeably. “You helped close a pretty tough case just yesterday, of course you’re tired...”
“I-I’m really sorry,” I mumbled and I meant it.
I could feel alternating waves of guilt and relief washing over me as she left for her station and it was with a somewhat heavy heart that I took the report she’d finished for me and left for the Military Police outpost to drop it off. She was gone by the time I returned to the clerk room and as I trudged back into the main office, I made a mental note to find a way to make it up to her somehow.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spied Dazai at his desk, waving his bandaged arms and silently mouthing my name.
“I want to talk to you!” he seemed to be saying and at once, I turned around and ignored him.
I didn’t know what Dazai wanted with me, waving like that, but I did know that I wanted no part of it. Nothing good ever came from indulging that man.
I glanced up at the clock, saw that there was still one hour left in the work day, and promptly busied myself by playing runner and taking care of small, minor errands all around the office. I was determined to spend this last hour avoiding Dazai and the desk area he shared with the others and whenever it seemed I was running out of things to do, I fell back on asking Yosano if she needed help with anything, anything at all. Luckily, the good doctor took my behavior as gratitude for taking me out this morning (it honestly was) and I succeeded in staying away from my old desk area for the rest of the day.
And good thing too. The moment I’d come back from the shopping trip, Dazai had appeared to lose all interest in work, choosing to spend the rest of his time at the Agency either outright staring at me or doing his best to try to get my attention. I could feel his eyes on me wherever I went and if I so much as turned my head in his general direction, he would start waving again or smile as brightly (and flirtatiously) as possible from across the room. He only stopped when Kunikida threatened to drag him into the server room to give him another beating if he didn’t get back to work.
That final hour seemed to stretch for the duration of an entire day but when it finally ended, I found myself breathing an enormous sigh of relief. I had been assigned a desk at last and, unfortunately, it was right where Dazai’s and Kunikida’s desks were. I wanted to wait until everyone had left before I started moving my stuff in so I bid goodbye to the staff one by one as they slowly filed out.
I tried to keep my smile as normal as possible when I saw Kunikida out the door but there was nothing I could do to stop the blood from rushing to my face when he said goodbye back. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice.
Breathing yet another sigh of relief, I stood in the middle of the empty office and went to the locker room to retrieve the things I’d stored. But just when I thought I was safe, I stepped back into the main room with my one large paper bag in hand to see Dazai, standing in the doorway to the other hall, with his arms crossed and a playful grin playing about his lips.
I realized I had not said goodbye to him earlier and now we were the only two people left in the building. Inwardly, I swore.
“So,” he said, his grin widening. “Kunikida-kun, huh?”
I ignored him and went to my desk, opening drawers and putting my things away as originally planned.
“What about him?”
I heard footsteps approaching as Dazai left the doorway and walked towards me.
“I saw the way you looked at him,” he said, plopping down backwards in Kunikida’s chair. Scooting forward until he was right next to me, he propped his bandaged arm up on his partner’s desk and rested his chin in his hand.
“Could it be? You don’t want to go on that group date with Haruno-san because of what Kunikiiiida-kun might think?”
“It’s getting late, Dazai-san,” I said politely, slamming my bag on my desk as I drew myself up to my full height and glared down at him. “Shouldn’t you be going home now?”
“C’mon, Kyou-chan. We’re friends aren’t we? You can tell me the truth. If you’re interested in Kunikiiiida-kun, I could help you get his attention.”
I scowled.
“No thanks. And why are you calling me by my first name again? I thought we agreed to avoid giving people the wrong idea?”
Dazai raised an eyebrow.
“But there’s no one around to get the wrong idea.”
And to demonstrate, he waved one bandaged arm around the empty room.
“See?” he asked, kicking off on one foot and spinning around in Kunikida’s black pleather chair like a top, one end of the many bandages wrapped around his forearm coming loose and flying beside him like a dingy party streamer made of linen.
“It’s just you and me. So there’s nothing we need to avoid. No reason to be keeping secrets from anyone. Right?”
He stopped swiveling and the linen bandage floated to a stop with him. Leaning forward, Dazai placed his hands on the back of the chair and tucked his chin on top of his long fingers, so that he looked like a puppy begging for scraps. He smiled, his chocolate brown eyes twinkling merrily.
“Kyou-chan?”
I bit my lip.
God damn Dazai. He actually looks pretty cute when he does that...
He scooted closer and internally, I shook myself.
No. He’s doing this on purpose. The last time he looked at me like that, he asked me to die with him and I...
I swallowed and closed my eyes.
No. Don’t think about that.
Yosano had cut my hair and changed my clothes. The old Kyou—the ghoul in the window that was my old reflection was gone and she would stay gone so long as I never thought about her again. If I could just become strong and become a full member of the Agency, I could bury her and leave her and all my old problems behind with her.
“Well? What do you say?” Dazai asked.
He slowly reached for my hand.
“You can call me ‘Osamu...’”
“No!!”
I pushed him back and my bag fell off the table with a loud crash. All my sketchbooks and art supplies scattered across the floor and I cursed as I dropped down to my knees to pick them back up.
“I’m not calling you that,” I gasped as I struggled to chase after a rolling piece of charcoal that was rolling under a desk several paces away. I threw myself on the floor and shoved my hand under the desk, dust and candy wrappers scattering around me as I reached for the short, blackened cylinder.
“We’re coworkers, Dazai-san and I don’t think it would be appropriate for us to be...”
Grasping the piece of charcoal in my hand at last, I glanced back to see Dazai looking at me with a very cheerful look on his face. It took me a second too long to realize my butt was in the air and he was definitely staring at it.
I flushed.
“You creep!!”
I clambered to my feet and stormed over.
“If you think I’m ever letting you call me ‘Kyou’ after that,” I snapped, shoving my belongings back into my bag as fast as I was able. “You’ve got another thing coming!”
Dazai shrugged, his coat making an oddly heavy rustling sound as he moved his shoulders.
“Alright, Kusunoki-kun. Alright. But before you go, could you answer one question for me...?”
Mirroring me, Dazai got to his feet. Drawing himself up to his full height, so that I was forced to look up at him, he grinned. There was a dark look in his eye and a week ago, I might’ve backed down, but at the moment, the only thing I could feel was the white-hot burn of humiliation and rage. I stood my ground, my pulse pounding in my ears, as Dazai’s half-bandaged hand slid towards me on my own desk, that Cheshire grin stretched across his lips coming closer with every passing second.
“Tell me,” he whispered, stopping only when his nose was a couple centimeters from mine, “How much would you hate being called ‘Kyou-chan’... if your name was coming out of Kunikiiiida-kun’s mouth?”
At the thought of the tall, blonde detective calling me in the same low, sultry voice that Dazai had just used, heat exploded in my face. The bandaged brunette saw the blood rushing to my cheeks; his teasing grin widened and I turned away.
“Quit making this about Kunikida-san!” I snapped, pushing him away. “The reason I said no to Kirako-san has nothing to do with him.”
“Really?” Dazai mused, his brown eyes sparkling with amusement as he watched me stomp towards the door.
“So, does that mean I still have a chance?”
I stopped.
I turned and gave him an exasperated look.
“Depends.”
I had never sounded so sarcastic in my life.
“You still dead set on that double-suicide?”
“Well yes,” he answered, blinking innocently at me when I rolled my eyes and continued heading for the door. “but I already said I’d wait for you, didn’t I?”
I scoffed.
“I thought I told you I have no interest in dying, Dazai-san.”
I could actually hear my own frustration in the depths of my sigh.
“I’m leaving. See you tomorrow...”
“Oh, wait. Kyou—I mean, Kusunoki-kun. I have something for you.”
“I don’t want it.”
“Even if it’s something that tells you everything you’d like to know about Kunikida-kun’s ideal woman?”
I froze.
There was an odd flapping sound, like pages being turned and I spun around to see Dazai pulling Kunikida’s lightly-bound olive-green notebook out of his trench coat. He held it up before me so that I could see the cover, the word “Ideal” unmistakably printed on its slightly weathered surface.
“It starts on page fifty-three.”
My bag slipped off my shoulder.
“Where did you get that?”
Dazai shrugged.
“I may have pick-pocketed him when he was trying to strangle me earlier.”
I took a step forward.
“Give that back.”
“Back?”
He raised an eyebrow and his grin turned into a smirk.
“But it’s not yours to take back either, Kusunoki-kun.”
“Hand it over, Dazai-san.”
I lunged for it but he was too fast for me. Dazai whipped the notebook high into the air and I immediately collided with his chest, knocking us both onto Kunikida’s desk. When I tried jumping for it again, my face met with Dazai’s hand.
“Seriously?” I gasped, trying to get around his defenses. “Are you five?”
“Sticks and stones, Kusunoki-kun,” Dazai sang, clearly enjoying his little game of keep-away.
“Give—it—to—me—!” I panted, trying to push myself forward, past a tangle of bandaged limbs and torso and reaching out for that little green notebook.
But just as I got within reach, Dazai’s half-bandaged hand wrapped around my wrist and, using that as leverage, he yanked me down on top of him.
“Only if you ask nicely,” Dazai whispered, his dark eyes glittering mischievously.
I felt my blood boil.
“Can you actually stop,” I snapped, pushing myself back up, “being a pervert for just one—”
I was too focused on getting the notebook back. I hadn’t even heard the sound of feet running down the hallway until the door to the office flew open and hit the wall with a dry-wall cracking BANG.
“DAZAI!!” a familiar male voice screamed.
I let out a surprised yelp and turned towards the door. There, standing in the doorway and looking angrier than ever, was Kunikida. His sharp green-gray eyes swept over the scene and when his gaze fell upon me and Dazai, his eyes narrowed. I looked back at the absolutely delighted expression on Dazai’s face and my soul almost left my body.
In my futile attempts to reach Kunikida’s notebook, I had literally climbed on top of Dazai and we were now both on top of Kunikida’s desk. One of my hands was still outstretched and reaching for the little green notebook while Dazai’s free hand, the one that wasn’t holding the notebook, was still clamped firmly around my wrist. Worst of all, my knee-length skirt had been hiked all the way up to my thigh in the struggle and my chest was firmly pushed up against Dazai’s. As Kunikida’s eyebrows slowly lifted up, the ribbon around my neck came untied.
I pushed Dazai away and hastily climbed off the desk, making the bandaged detective smack his head against a thick binder and drop the notebook. Spotting my chance, I snatched the fallen notebook off the ground and ran towards Kunikida.
“K-Kunikida-san...!” I stammered, pushing the notebook into his waiting hands. “It’s not what you think...! Dazai—”
“Oh! Kunikida-kun!” Dazai exclaimed, waving a little. “Good timing. You dropped your notebook—”
“Dazai,” Kunikida growled, his shoulders tensing visibly.
I thought I saw a vein pulsing in his temple.
“Not only did you steal my notebook, you also thought you’d drag Kusunoki into this? This is too much, even for you.”
Bloodlust radiated off his entire frame. Not wanting to stick around for the aftermath, I dropped into a quick bow, blurted out a hasty goodbye to the two of them and ran for the door with my bag in my arms. I reached the hallway just in time as a cacophony of crashing noises and Dazai yelling in pain echoed down the corridor. Re-tying the ribbon around my neck, I set off for the elevator without so much as a backwards glance.
He got me. He got me good.
Not only did Dazai figure out that I was starting to develop a crush on Kunikida from just one glance, he’d also managed to make it look like we were doing something inappropriate after hours—and on top of Kunikida’s desk, no less! Was he actively trying to ruin the little good standing I had with Kunikida for fun? Did he want me to join him in that double suicide so bad? Or was he really just hoping that either Kunikida or I would get fed up enough to grant his death wish by beating him to a pulp?
I sighed and pushed the button for the elevator door, putting my earbuds in so I could drown out the sound of Kunikida’s and Dazai’s shouts with something a little more cheerful...
A woman’s voice came on over the earbuds and as I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the music, I began to make out the lyrics.
Huh. What a coincidence. She was singing about what she wanted in a lover...
“Page fifty-three, huh?” I mumbled, my thoughts drifting back to the notebook.
I hated to admit it but I was curious. What was Kunikida’s ideal woman? And... how far off the mark was I? If Kunikida had arrived just a little later, I might’ve been able to take that notebook from Dazai. Then I could’ve snapped a picture of page fifty-three to study later...
I shook my head to clear the thought away.
No. Bad idea.
That was just Dazai getting to me again. I was not like him and I would not sink to his level. I reached for my cell phone to turn up the music but as soon as I had it in my hands, it vibrated suddenly to indicate I’d gotten a text message.
I squinted at it.
“Who...? Oh.”
It had to be from Dazai—he was the one coworker whose number I refused to add to my address book. I was about to delete it when I realized it came with an image attachment. Wondering if it was something important, I opened it.
“You’re welcome?” I read aloud, scrolling down.
My eyes widened.
Below the message was a very clear set of photos, each showing a different page from a small notebook. If the neat penmanship wasn’t already a dead giveaway, the list of fifty-eight “ideal” traits and detailed plans for dating and marriage requirements definitely was (Kunikida was planning to get married within five to six years??). It was all the information a girl could want and more.
My mind raced.
When had Dazai taken these pictures? How?! Wasn’t Kunikida destroying him right now?
Peering down the darkened hallway, which had suddenly gone quiet, I shot back a quick text, just as the elevator arrived at the fourth floor and I walked through the doors.
“How did you get this?” I wrote back feverishly, “And why are you sending it to me?”
Was that maniac going to use this to frame me or blackmail me? Or worse...? Wait. What even was worse?
The reply was prompt.
“Don’t worry about the details. Let’s just say I’m hoping we can go from being coworkers to friends very soon. ;)”
Something fell over in the hall and I looked up just before the elevator doors closed to see a half-bandaged hand poking out the open doorway of the Armed Detective Agency office. Dazai was holding a thumbs up.
8 notes · View notes
szopenhauer · 4 years
Text
Would you ever chew gum after someone else already has? noooo, yuk
Earrings or a necklace? necklace
Have you ever wished on 11:11? I do smth else/have different tradition
Have you ever listened to the Goo Goo Dolls? Iris, even recently
Have you ever watched Lost? nah
Do you have pictures of your exes? I think I deleted them
Do you have Ozzy Osbourne on your mp3 player? I don’t listen to him but I liked to watch Osbourne’s family tho
Do you read romance novels? the only one I could count as a romance was Five feet apart
Did you draw pictures for your crushes in preschool? no :o
Have you ever not asked someone out cause you were scared of rejection? yep
Have you ever liked someone just because of their appearance? had some crushes like this, especially celebs lol
Pink or green? green but pink with green looks interesting
A bracelet or a ring? depends
Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter? LOTR
By airplane or bus? bus
What’s the last thing you binge watched? She-ra
Do you watch youtube videos or tv shows more? yt videos
What are you tired of right now? everything
Have you ever gotten rid of something and then regretted it? If so, what?  several things, personal
How does your stomach feel right now? silence before the storm?...
Do you live in an apartment that has inspections? I don’t live in an apartment
Do you hate taking naps during the day? yes and no
Who in your immediate family has the best natural hair? my grandma has, she never got grey hair nor dandruff etc.
Do you know anyone who thinks they’re more talented than they are?   obvi
What is the origin of your last name? polish?
Have you ever been inside a Victorian mansion? I wish
What was the most boring field trip you ever went on? hmm...
What are your favorite types of videos to watch on youtube? music videos, thrift hauls, interiors, fashion, funny stuff...
What’s a DIY craft project you want to try? I’m not into DIY
Are you a hoarder? yep
Do you ever call yourself stupid in your head? often
If you were to start a collection, what would it be? not counting those I already have? for example - znicze
Would you ever give your daughter the middle name Marie? I could, especially if it was a boy :P as it’s legal to call him Maria if it’s the middle name lmfao
Do you have a relationship with God? some sort of it
Have you ever “fired” a doctor? could say so
Who is the prettiest Asian youtuber that you can think of? I don’t watch any Asian youtubers
What was the temperature where you live today? less than 30 Celsius but it felt colder
Is your sleep schedule all messed up? umm...
Did you wear green last St. Patrick’s Day? I don’t celebrate this 
Food: Are you adventurous or do you stick to what you know? stick 
Do you know both of your biological parents? I do
When was the last time you wrote so much your finger ached? last night
Do you store a lot of pictures you’ve taken that no one else has seen? ppl close to me saw them
When did you first start using the internet? regularly or very first time?
Do you prefer tents or staying in hotels? prefer hotels
Do you have any family traditions for certain holidays? Which? personal
Do you enjoy clowns / street performers or are they creepy to you? some I like
Have you ever had a teacher who would just babble about nothing? for example - we had a priest who was always talking about war times or his night dreams :D
Do you ever look at a word and think that it looks odd? hahaha it happens
Did you ever dream about being an animal? plenty
Which vowel occurs most in your whole name? A
What’s your favourite colour on a dog? dunno
Do you prefer Skirts or Dresses? dresses, I can use them as tunics
Have you ever been told you are fake? once :(
Can you do cartwheels? not well
Do you like the name Sara? no longer...
What’s your first name without an r, e, s or l? doesn’t change
What’s your age plus two divided by 4? 7.5
Do you know someone named after a month (April, May, June)? used to know May
Stop typing. What do you hear? someone is mowing grass as every other day ugh...
What was the last book you read that also is a film? Five feet apart
How often do you get a new purse or a new wallet? whenever I feel like it but I thrift them so it’s not like I spend lots of money
What is the most money that you have ever spent on getting your nails done? few PLN for a nail polish and done them myself lol
Does it matter to you if your girlfriend drinks? I wouldn’t date an alcoholic, someone who is drunk a lot and then do stupid stuff, pukes, have hangovers often, spend all their money on alcohol, smells like it, gross!
Has a little kid ever fallen asleep on your lap before? nah, just cat
If you heard your best friend’s significant other was cheating on them, would you tell them? Even if you couldn’t prove it? I’d mention that to them
Do you plan on having both your parents at your wedding? if they want to attend...
Have you ever stayed on a ride at a theme park to ride it again? nope
Where did your mother and father meet for the first time? in front of the church
Would you rather read books or magazines? depends
Have you ever had your cheek pinched? I hate that >.>
Do you own any plaid pants? I have a pair of plaid leggings and pajamas
Do you talk in your sleep? nah
Have you ever fallen off a horse? never been on a horse to fall
Can you pick things up with your toes? I do this often
If you are a girl, do you get bad PMS, or is it not so bad? my PMS were usually worse than my period
Would you rather have your shirt be too long or too short? too long
Are you the type of person who can shake insults off easily, or do they tend to stick around in your brain & bother you? stay forever
Do you like clothes with ruffles on them? usually not
Were you happy when you woke up today? I wasn’t
Have you used the opposite sex’s bathroom in a public place before? had to 
Do you rent movies frequently? I don’t have money for that
Do you quote movies or songs to answer survey questions? very rarely as it’s annoying
What is your name spelled backwards? Annazuz :3
How do you think the world will end? people will destroy it?
An alien ship lands at your house, and they want you. Do you go with them? 
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If you were in a horror flick, would you be one of the first ones to die? I think I would survive or die saving someone
What movie has been taken WAY too far, as far as sequels go? most of them but it’s more shows’ thingy
Do you get a fake Christmas tree each year, or a real one? fake, I’m against using real ones
How long would you have to know someone before tying the knot? it’s not about length of time that much
Would you embarass yourself if you met your favorite celebrity? probably :x
If a person had a glass eye, would that scare you? no idea, hope not as I don’t wanna make them feel bad, sorry in advance
Are you a twin? am not
Do you get paranoid that someone’s looking at your through your window? my neighbor sometimes does so...
Mountains, oceans, or forests? forests
When was the last time you “de-haired” your hairbrush? recently?
Are any of your great grandparents still alive? they’re all dead
Where’s your significant other? visiting her dad
How much blankets do you sleep under? 1-2
Is a hair dryer a necessity for you? it is
If you were atop a tall building, would you throw stuff at people below? don’t do that!
Do you believe we really landed on the moon? I don’t give a shit
Name a movie everyone else thought was funny, but you couldn’t stand: majority of comedies tbh
What topping do you HATE on pizzas? same, I’m more into simple food
Got any interesting wigs? bunch
Can you resist temptation? most often
Would a credit card get you into trouble? if I lost it, I would be paranoid about it 24/7, omg I just got scared I’ve lost my ID and bus card 
Truth or dare? truth?
Which is more annoying: sequels or prequels? *shrug*
Do you use rechargeable batteries? when I did they were blowing up, didn’t charge back or smth like this so I prefer normal ones thank you very much
Describe the chair you’re sitting in. Is it comfy? it's so old there’s barely anything left to sit on but I have no cash for a new one nor can get that kind of chair anywhere so... 2 pillows under my butt have to be enough
What would you do if you thought someone was following you? try to lose them
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365daysofsasuhina · 5 years
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[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day One Hundred Seventy-One: ID Bracelet ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: The Future is Wild ] [ AO3 Link ]
How odd, to wake for the first time with an empty mind.
Eyes of pale lavender slowly open, fringes of lashes fluttering. Above her is a plane of white - perfectly arranged tiles along a ceiling, broken up intermittently with soft, colorless lights. Her gaze flickers over the sight before she dares to turn her head. With it, the fringe of her hair shifts over her brow. To her right, another marless wall of white. But to the left…
A huge sheet of glass. Peerless. Unscathed. Without a scratch. Beyond it, an empty hallway of the same unfeeling white. Cold. Hard. Lifeless.
For a time, she lets her head rest flat again, considering the ceiling. In her mind are no words - no inner narrative. Just vague inclinations - questions without form, lacking the knowledge to mold them. Where is she? What is she? Why is she?
Then instinct gives her a hint.
Move.
Limbs shift subtly, realized. She has a body? It can move? Her left arm lifts, wobbles, turns and bends. She watches it curiously, flexes fingers, feels the sensation of tightening muscles. Takes everything in with those pale eyes.
“You’re awake.”
The words mean nothing to her, but sound is a new dimension. Back to the glass she looks. There stands...something. It wasn’t there before. It...moves? Is it...her? Like her? Not like her? In her effort to see it more clearly, her torso turns - more body to discover. Like a newborn fawn she struggles to wrangle her fleshy vessel to her whims. As she turns atop the strange cot upon which she’s lying, something moves against her skin. Her hair, her garment, and...a bracelet. She has words for none of them, understanding for none of them. Hands sloppily touch and pull at all she is, all she has. There’s...sensation. She feels it! The gown that hangs to her knees is smooth...but not as smooth as her skin. And the thing that dangles over her wrist...it shines. Silver, metal, save for a small screen that displays symbols, meaningless to her.
To anyone else, it simply reads: B1.
As she watches, the symbols...move! Float across the little screen, changing and flowing. Vitals display, physical information. Current height, weight, body mass index, last sleep cycle, last meal, last waste deposit. Anything and everything that is her.
All the while, outside the glass, the her-is-not-her watches. Patiently. His eyes are not like hers. Dark. Guarded. Not so curious and open about the new world around them.
His eyes have seen much. More than hers. Great things. Terrible things.
He wonders which she will be.
Eventually, she loses interest in the bracelet, and her gown. Combing fingers through her hair, she keeps up the act subconsciously as she again takes in her little room. It’s only ten paces in any direction. Her cot is the only anomaly: a fluid shape up out of the floor, like a stand for a trophy. Her legs dangle off the edge, feet bare over the cool tiles.
Then her eyes return to him.
His garment is different. A coat, white; trousers, black; shirt, red; tie, black. And he has shoes - she can’t see his feet. Nor can she tell what is garment, what is him. What is him?
“Can you hear me?”
Her head tilts.
He knows she doesn’t yet comprehend language, but...all in due time. At least, so far, she seems functional. Motor skills are developing well after so long in suspended animation as she grew. They’ll have to test her full capabilities later. Make sure nothing is deficient or malformed after her accelerated growth...but from a glance, she appears whole. Normal.
Of course...he knows better than to expect perfect results from the prototype. There’s a reason there’s a number beside her project’s initial. There will be more. There will always be more. Tweaks. Improvements. Fixes for bugs and imperfections.
For now, he simply observes.
She stares at him, unblinking. Unnerving how her gaze almost seems to go right through him, but...well, he supposes that’s largely the point. The government isn’t paying his employer millions just to make humans.
They have to be special.
Then, to his surprise, she attempts to stand. Attempts being the key word, as her untested legs quickly give out under the new strain of gravity. He doesn’t react, watching to see what she’ll do. Limbs a mess and back propped against her cot, there’s a curt huff of frustrated breath.
...that was almost cute.
Arms reach for a hold, twisting her torso to reach for the edge. She manages to rise to her knees, still clinging to the cot and observing herself critically. Seems she’s not a fan of her beginning fragility. Then a leg lifts, planting her foot with her knee at a right angle. Good. Push, strain, wobble like a Spring calf. Plant other foot. Hold on to support. Carefully - oh so carefully - let go.
Continue to sway, but...remain upright. Arms stretch out like an acrobat’s pole on a tightrope, lifting and lowering to adjust her balance.
...huh. Impressive.
Tiny shuffling steps turn her back toward the glass. One foot slides, rather than lifts, across the floor, like a child learning to ski. Shift weight, bring forth other foot. Slow, unsteady progress.
And he just...watches. Hands in his pockets. Expression carefully neutral.
After a long minute of travel...she makes it. Braces palms against the glass, which fogs ever so slightly in the chilled laboratory air near her body heat. Watching the phenomenon, her gaze then lifts to his face. Studies it, eyes open and clear, unphased by things like social decorum. Her mind thirsts for knowledge of this world it suddenly finds itself in, and he is the first thing of note in her path.
The first thing like her.
There’s still an eerie feeling as she watches him. He knows what those eyes have been engineered to do: to see through anything, when fed the right biochemical signal. The perfect spy, with both x-ray and binocular vision.
Exactly what they’re being paid to build.
Orochimaru has always sought to push the boundaries of fact and fiction when it comes to human biology. Limits pushed just to see what pushing them does. What happens when those boundaries are broken. The unnatural, perverse things Sasuke has seen while working under the man have been numerous...but this project, at least, has to retain a sense of normalcy.
If a being is to blend into society, it can’t stand out. And while her gaze is troubling, they can always adjust it. She’ll have to prove she can go unseen...while seeing everything.
Lost in his thoughts, Sasuke moves only as she does. Her right hand, attached to her ID bracelet, lifts to press more level to his face, as though longing to touch it. Still the intense stare, head tilting to better her angle of observation.
His own eyes flicker over her face, eventually managing to lock.
She has yet to blink.
Then, subtly...he sees it. Veins along her temples swell, altered brain flipping a switch.
...she’s looking through him. Literally this time.
He just...stands in shock. How did she…? She can’t know how to…?
Eventually, her eyes move aside, slowly scanning the building beyond him. Peeking into crevices, seeing into rooms, peering around corners. As he watches, he can just barely see the shifts in her irises: like a camera lens adjusting focus as she narrows and widens her field of view.
...amazing…
After a sweep, she brings her gaze back to him, veins receding as she lets the phenomenon cease.
Considering her silently, Sasuke then decides to abandon his better judgment. Just for a moment.
Just to see what she’ll do.
Withdrawing a hand from a pocket, he lifts it, slowly. As expected, her eyes snap to the movement. Letting her watch, he then adjusts to let his palm rest on the other side of the six inch thick reinforced glass from hers.
It’s so dainty when compared to his own.
Something...shifts in her expression. Almost like a tinge of sadness. Slowly, her fingers curl to a fist, eyes dropping and suddenly looking miles away.
What he’d give to know what she’s thinking.
Feeling.
Then, the limb slips from the glass completely. She turns to walk away.
“Wait.”
The sound draws her gaze.
The word comes unexpectedly. Unintendedly. Suddenly his throat is dry, watching as she watches him.
His own visual cue is far less subtle than hers. The black iris spins, shifts...turns red. With it, the lavender specter that ghosts over her shell flickers into vision. Echoes of her subtle movements make her seem to shift in slow motion, like afterimages he can watch and predict far faster than any untinkered human.
Her face goes slack with recognition.
He...he is like her…!
Stepping back to him, she palms at the glass, seeming to seek a way through it. But he stoppers her with a gesture. His eyes go dark. He shakes his head.
...she doesn’t understand.
Heaving a sigh, he retreats his hand, shoving it back into his pocket and walking down the hall, the thumps of her palms unheard.
                                                        .oOo.
     So this is...really random xD I'm actually not a big fan of sci fi as a genre - I've always been more of a fantasy kinda person. So tbh I dunno how...well I did this? Since I don't have much to compare it to, lol      Back when I first did this prompt list with original characters, I did something very similar to this, but...it's neat to see how my perceptions have changed, and just overall writing quality. I like this a lot better than that first attempt, but...I guess that's the point!      ANYWAY      So, we have Oro in a lab making fancy modified hoomans! And Hinata, Byakugan 1, has just been woken from stasis for the first time! A bit odd to suddenly exist at like twenty years old. And of course, Sasuke - one of Oro's top assistants - goes to check on her. But it seems even Oro's employees have their quirks :3c      Ngl, I might do more with this in the future. We'll see. I'm not...overly comfortable with writing sci fi since I don't really "know" it very well, but...maybe I'll make an exception here, lol      Buuut for now, I need sleep. I was up all night sick last night and...hoping it doesn't happen again ^^; All that aside though, thanks for reading!
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stinkgh · 5 years
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al-anon is the only social activity i have at the moment, aside from work & a volunteer project but theyre not all that “social” compared to al-anon. i listen to them talk & it makes me realize how much of a wet mop I am. i dont do shit except lay in bed all day. no fucking hobbies, no interests, cant do anything that holds my attention for more than a few seconds before ive lost interest & ready to quit. id much rather be in beeeeeedddddd like holy fuck who am i though?? im so withdrawn i dont even remember who i am and its been a legit thing lately. i cant do anything without wanting to run back home & get in bed. god it sucks so fucking much. i feel like such a blank slate. I feel like this is because of how i was raised, because my mother squashed all my hobbies anyfuckingway so why even bother. and when i say squashed, i mean she fucking killed them dead murdered in cold fucking blood. she took every bit of individuality I had and crushed it with her evil fucking rat claws. i liked anime and cartoons, she forbade them. i liked to read harry potter, she called it devil worship and then burned my books. i liked video games, she smashed my gamecube with a hammer and burned my gameboy & all my games. burned my yugioh cards. insulted my taste in music by calling it devils music bc she couldnt understand the lyrics. i couldnt wear the things i liked, i couldnt even TALK WITHOUT HER RIDICULING MY FUCKING ACCENT. HOW FUCKING CONTROLLING DO YOU HAVE TO BE. she fucking squashed ANY AND EVERY BIT OF INDIVIDUALITY I FUCKING HAD. IS IT ANY WONDER IM A WET FUCKING MOP?!?! they all talk about activities like apple picking and shit and im just like… cant relate. thats too scary for me i cant handle it. i wouldnt enjoy it & probably couldnt wait for it to end so I could go home. in fact why even bother, just save the trouble and stay home. i literally have no interest if no one else is there. why do anything alone. god who am I?? have i always been like this?? i dont think i have. at one point i had lots of hobbies. i liked to read. and draw. i really loved to draw. i liked to do jigsaw puzzles. and music. but then i liked to do schoolwork. and i liked school. and i liked all these things because they were distractions from an alcoholic abusive mother. sometimes i feel like thats the only reason i ever did those things, and did so well in school, because my motivation was to escape home & i found solace in these things. now that i dont have such an evil presence looming over me 24/7, i have no need to “escape” (lets not mention the 4 years of literal daydreaming, no no thats a different kind of escape) and it takes a lot of effort to do these things for enjoyment rather than escapism. i have nothing to escape here.
something for me to research i think. how to trick yourself to enjoy healthy coping mechanisms lmao. honestly this is one of the reasons i think i need to be medicated. depression, but i cant not mention the impending doom known as abandonment fears haha bitch you thought! i dont want to meet new people and get attached! not now not ever again! so i say. i know this is a hinderance to the progress im seeking, but honestly it just makes me mad. i hate this. i hate that im so fucking broken. i literally dont know what to do when it comes to this shit. i dont know how to properly express myself face to face without panicking. its like that option doesnt even exist! IT NEVER HAS. Ive never been able to do that without getting beat or told i was being disrespectful. its better to shut the fuck up than to speak up because when i speak she fucking hits me. i grew up with that!! and now i dont know how to speak up to strangers who arent my mom and probably wont beat me for speaking my mind, but I dont know that lol my body certainly doesnt. i dont know how to feel comfortable with strangers without feeling ridiculed or shamed its just how im fucking programmed. i literally do not. know. how. to. do. this. please fucking help me. then why i TRY to communicate it comes out angry, agressive, and triggering bc i literally have NEVER had success with this on a 1-to-1 setting. it has ALWAYS ended with me getting squashed or me doing the squashing. jesus fucking christ what the fuuuuck this shit is so fucking frustrating and definitely one of those things i wish i could just *poof* make it better. writing this out makes me realize, its one of those things im gonna have to work really hard to improve. this sucks. this sucks so much.
gonna mention this next session, god i wish i didnt have realizations directly AFTER therapy bc now i gotta wait 2 whole weeks to see what he thinks & im probably gonna find some info on it before then bc thats what i do. there’s a book i saw floating around here on body triggers, im thinking of getting it. also im kinda disappointed, i thought he was gonna teach me things today but it was just like a normal session where i talked the entire time and he barely said much at all. when are you gonna teach me things pls im running on empty fumes here ;-;
adding in post: so in the tags I talk about nurturing my relationship with god and I mentioned that I don’t like saying “you’re suffering for a reason” because thats an awful thing to say to someone who has been abused and epsecially when the abuse is still fresh, its like youre fucking justifying the pain and suffering inflicted on you and that shit is fucking triggering as fuck. but then i forgot tumblr algorithms push quotated tags to the front of the list so when I posted this and had “you’re suffering for a reason” in quotation marks, it was the first tag to show up.
I see you bitch.
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nutbrain · 5 years
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I have finally finished this story! @kiruuuuu requested that for this next bit in the kindess war we using the supernatural partner generator: http://www.generatorland.com/usergenerator.aspx?id=21877
Kiru requested Rook/Glaz, so I went with high fantasy AU for this. It runs a little over 16k. 
Some warnings for mentions of abuse and interrogation. I hope y’all enjoy it!
The axe came down, hitting the log with a solid thwump, sending the pieces clattering to the ground. Another log, another swing, another set for the growing pile of firewood. Glaz reached up and wiped his brow, shading his eyes from the sun as he scanned the tree line around the shack he was currently calling his home. Something had been making him antsy all day, the hairs on the back of his neck rising as he felt eyes on the back of his head. Seeing nothing after a while, he settled back into his rhythm, but didn’t allow himself to relax.
 Rolling his shoulders as he focused on his task, he tried not to let it bother him; the tension was likely just a holdover from the old days. Open clearings like this reminded him of battlefields and the bloodshed that accompanied them. That life had been difficult mentally and physically: not being able to relax, constantly waiting for a fight, and almost always a target. He felt his skin itch just thinking about it, the desire to shift forms growing with his anxiety, but he shook it off. If he was being watched, the last thing he needed to do was oust himself as a shapeshifter. His otherform as an eagle gave him great advantage in fights where he could have distance, but on the ground and alone, he’d be vulnerable until he could get space between himself and whatever might be setting off his sixth sense.
 Sighing at the pile of split logs, he reached down to pick up the blocks and carry them over to the neat little stack next to the building, setting them down in the way that Kapkan had liked so much, old habits engrained in him from when he was part of a squad. He was aware if the other three were close enough, they’d probably sense his reminiscing, but found it unavoidable despite how much he attempted to distract himself with the stacking. His heart nearly skipped a beat when he picked up the faint noise of a branch snapping, something that wouldn’t have been heard human ears. Careful not to pause, he listened closely but found it difficult to calm down and focus enough. Attempting to act as normal as possible, Glaz stacked one more log and turned to survey the woods, keeping his shoulders relaxed so as to not give any indication he’d heard the noise. He calmed his thoughts and listened closely.
 For a few moments only wind moving through the trees could be heard. Glaz decided to try another tactic and turned to go inside. However as he did so, Glaz picked up the slightest noise of leaves and sticks shifting before he whirled around to see what had made the noise. It took split second before he picked up the camouflaged coat of a massive wolf observing him from the edge of the forest. Its posture was menacing as it assessed him, golden eyes narrowed and its ears flicked forward intently. Breathe hitching, Glaz focused him magic and summoned his long bow, pulling back the string to half draw and aiming at the wolf. Given that this animal was twice the size of Fuze’s otherform, Glaz knew it had to be a werewolf. The beasts compensated for their lack of magic by growing to large sizes; only their high born were still capable of utilizing the elements and thus their sizes tended to rest somewhere between a normal wolf and the creature before him.
 “Leave me be. I mean no trouble.” Glaz kept his voice soft, knowing that he’d be heard. The sniper was confident this fight would be in his favor, but werewolves pack bonded like shapeshifters did; the death of this individual would bring the entire group down on him and with no way of knowing the size of said pack, Glaz didn’t want to take the risk unnecessarily.
 After being addressed, the werewolf crouched, ears dropping back and upper lip curling over its canines into a snarl. Glaz followed its slight movement with the tip of his arrow. The wolf was unfazed, eyes narrowing, so he drew the string back a further, fingers brushing against his cheek. The two stood like that for what seemed like an eternity, but finally Glaz’s patience won out and the werewolf rose and backed up into the forest, quickly disappearing into the foliage. The sniper sighed in relief as he slowly let the draw out and dissolved his bow, heading into the small abode. Further chores were too much of a risk for the day with the werewolf possibly still lurking.
 When the late afternoon rolled around, Glaz shuffled around and debated checking his traps within the woods for game. While he was hungry for fresh food, he eventually decided it’d be best to stay put and eat the jerky he’d made instead. He trudged over to the makeshift table he’d put together, trying to decide if he wanted rabbit or deer. Neither option was particularly appealing, but it’d give him something to do in this enclosed space. The shack wasn’t much more than four walls and his cobbled together bed, so he quickly grew stir crazy; close quarters made him itch.
 Flopping down on his dirt floor with his section of deer jerky, he tugged unhappily on the dry meat with his teeth, once again missing his squad; Tachanka’s method of curing meat had always ended up much more flavorful and was something Glaz had never managed to replicate. Gnawing on his dinner, he briefly entertained the idea of traveling to find one of the others as he’d done many times before. In his imagination he’d keep watch from a distance, their presence in the area enough to soothe his soul, but knew that would be far too dangerous to carry out.
 Huffing as he finished the meager meal, he double checked the magical ward on the door and flopped into what could be called a bed, rolling in an attempt to find a more comfortable position so his back wouldn’t stage a riot come morning.
 Sleep didn’t come easily that night as he tossed and turned, constantly at unease. Sometime in the middle of the night, he woke up in a frantic sweat, frantically scanning the room for any indication of what caused it, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. He sat there and panted heavily, trying to calm his heart before it beat itself out of his chest.
 “RUN” That was Kapkan’s voice, as loud in Glaz’s head as if he was standing right next to him. His voice held a great deal of fright and Glaz knew he must be somewhat close to send a message that strong. Pushed into action Glaz listened closely against the wall near the door and heard the whisper of fabric. His breathe hitched in his throat as the seal changed from a neutral blue to a warning yellow; it was holding but probably not for much longer.
 There was an upper window so he wasn’t trapped. He could shift, squeeze through it and be off. Hopefully they didn’t know his otherform and they wouldn’t see him leave. As he turned towards the window, something caught his eye in the far corner of the room; dark shadows were coalescing and seeping through the planks of the cabin, deep red eyes at the epicenter of the cloud.
 “A wraith!” Glaz shouted through their group connection, and was answered with only dread from Kapkan before the connection was severed. From what Glaz knew of them, wraiths were powerful sorcerers, brought back after a gruesome death by sheer will and spite. Their element is always dark magic, and given their undead status, extremely hard to kill. Facing a wraith is dangerous for a small army, let alone a solitary shapeshifter such as Glaz. Panicking as he realized what he was up against, the sniper wasted no time shifting, barely avoiding a tendril of smoke with his first wing stroke. He darted through the opening above as shadows chased him up and out. Once through the window, alarms bells heightened; he shifted back to human form and rolled when he hit the ground, barely avoiding the net that had been thrown towards his flightpath. Coming out of his roll into a crouch, Glaz summoned his bow and let loose a quick volley of arrows, felling the three that had been waiting for him. A quick glance at their uniforms revealed that they were the King’s soldiers.
 Swearing, Glaz shifted again and quickly gained enough height to be out of range of the soldier’s nets and arrows, narrowly dodging a large spear that was hurled up at him. Looking back from a safe distance in the sky, Glaz’s enhanced vision and the light of the moon allowed him to see that the wraith had fully taken form in the clearing below. The almost skeletal man raised his hand and waved his fingers up at Glaz with a smile, causing him to shiver and pick up his speed.
  He flew for miles upon miles without stopping. Glaz heard nothing more from Kapkan and did not try and contact him again. If the wraith was sent after him, he’d have a much better chance of escaping it despite his meager magic; wraiths were fast, but they couldn’t fly. If the wraith did catch up to him…well at least Kapkan wouldn’t have to feel him die if he kept the connection closed. He shivered to think about it and continued on, soaring on the thermals when he grew tired.
 Once he was an acceptable distance away and thoroughly exhausted, Glaz began to look for an area where he could rest for a while. He scanned the ground and honed in on a plume of smoke that was rising in the air; while he didn’t want to risk interacting with anyone, he’d need to know if there was someone in the area before he decided to set up camp here.
 Approaching, he circled lazily in the sky. To onlookers, Glaz appeared exactly like a large golden eagle and he was far too high for most to sense his magic. As he surveyed the ground, there was indeed a large cabin below and it was bustling with people. This part of the land was a great deal rockier than the one he had previously been in; it sat closer to the mountains where the forest gradually started turning into rocky passes and cliff faces.
 Watching this new area closely, he observed the patterns of the people below. They moved in and out, doing chores and conversing, nothing out of the ordinary. What drew his attention was the thing that was chained up outside, cowering when anyone walked past. After seeing the large animal, Glaz couldn’t very well fly off without investigating first. Glaz slowly flew down, landing on a branch high in a poplar tree with a good view of the area. He received a few glances, but was otherwise left alone to observe and regain some energy.
 Now closer, Glaz could see and hear more of what was going on. Being around people after so long of avoiding them was making him uncomfortable, but he remained. Able to get a better look, Glaz noted that the animal below was actually a large wolf, chained up with a muzzle over it – no, his – snout and studded leather loops around each paw so that he was unable to stand. The wolf’s dark brown fur was heavily matted and covered with dirt and debris, making it look absolutely wild. This image was offset substantially as the beast occasionally whined pitifully when someone walked close, large eyes staring up at them as he cowered. This earned him a few painful kicks to the side that would result in high pitched yelps, but he kept it up all the same. The behavior made Glaz physically ill, nearly unable to watch as the wolf suffered. He cringed whenever the poor thing made a noise, knowing from experience it was best to just let them forget your presence.
 As Glaz continued to watch, he was gripped with indecision. He’d be better off flying away and forgetting what he’d seen, given he now had a wraith and the royal guard after him. He knew he really needed more distance than what he had gained. There was likely little he’d be able to do to help the creature below without drawing undue attention to himself. Resigning himself to letting nature take its course for the animal below, he made to take off when the wolf looked up him with big, sad, golden eyes. Glaz paused immediately, breath catching in his throat as he flexed his talons on the branch; looking at the unnaturally bright eye color, this wasn’t a simple wolf but a young werewolf. Glaz looked at his size again, comparing it to the men that walked past, noting now that he was larger than most normal wolves and cursing himself for not noticing sooner.
 Reassessing the situation, he found a distinct lack of magical aura in the area. There were men in these woods that held deep hatred for those of a magical variety, holdouts from an era long past. It was entirely possible they’d caught this young thing and had chosen to take their fears and anger out on him. If these were truly men, it meant that he’d likely have an opening tonight in order to release the poor thing below, otherwise he was condemning the werewolf to a long lifetime of suffering at their hands. Decision made, Glaz settled on his branch and cleaned his feathers, formulating the best approach.
 As night drew close, Glaz patiently stayed on his chosen perch, pretending to be aloof to the happening of the household below. Chores were slowing down and things were being put away when a giant of a man strode out of the house, stride measured and expression cold. The people from the cabin stopped what they were doing and circled around him as he came to a stop in front of the werewolf on the ground. Glaz desperately hoped they weren’t going to try and kill him, as he’d be hard pressed to fight them all without getting injured.
 “Ready to talk, little one?” The werewolf glared up from his position on the ground, tugging lightly at his chains and growling as best he could through the muzzle. The man scoffed before surging forward, hitting the ground not as a human, but as a wolf, one that easily dwarfed the werewolf he’d encountered the day before in the forest. The men surrounding him shifted as well, now encircling the smaller werewolf who weakly struggled against his chains as he cowered.
 The enormous wolf snarled, baring its teeth before tugging at the scruff of the young werewolf’s neck. He yelped in surprise and pain before going stock still in the other’s maw. Glaz remained outwardly neutral, feeling eyes staring at him from below but was internally panicking. There was no way for him to take on pack that was twenty strong like this one was, but he couldn’t in good conscience leave.
 Eventually the small werewolf made a few soft noises and was released from the other’s jaws. The pack leader let out a bloodcurdling howl that the others answered before they took off, heading around the cabin to the east. Assessing the now miserable looking werewolf, Glaz couldn’t see any traces of blood along his neck from where he was held in those massive jaws. He made eye contact again, the golden globes staring at the eagle forlornly as he let out a small whine and dropped his head down in the dirt, ears drooping against his head.
 Listening for noises and hearing none, Glaz swooped down and landed on the ground, startling a yelp out of the werewolf who pulled back on his restraints and stared at him warily. Knowing he was better off maintaining this form for a quick escape, Glaz hopped closer a laid wing over the werewolf’s head, nuzzling him softly with his beak. The efforts to calm to wolf didn’t entirely work, but he settled down enough for Glaz to start assessing the bonds he was in.
 The leather wrapped around his legs was held closed with silver rivets and engraved with glowing runes that Glaz couldn’t understand. He tapped them experimentally with a talon, but they didn’t seem to affect him. Not wanting to waste more time, he grabbed one end of the leather attached to the wolf’s front paw in his beak and the other in his talons, ripping it apart. The rivet flew loose and Glaz quickly put some distance between himself and the wolf while he waited to see if there were any repercussions. Not at all bothered by the runes, the werewolf’s tail waved back and forth as he shook out his newly freed leg. He looked at Glaz and pawed insistently at the muzzle.
 The sniper eyed the claws but moved closer and put his beak around the leather that held the metal cage around the werewolf’s head. He gave the werewolf a warning nip when he brought his foot up to try and hurry him along before he tugged the leather loose. Now freed of the metal cage, the werewolf wasted no time in tearing off the restraint on his other front paw while Glaz set about getting his hind legs. Now able to stand, the young werewolf hauled himself up and shook out, dust flying off and landing on Glaz who squawked in irritation. Not too far off, a wolf howled in the night before being answered by others. The werewolf next to Glaz tucked his tail between his legs and cowered, looking at him for instructions. Sighing, Glaz flew up, calling at the werewolf before flying slightly higher and heading towards the west. Seeming to understand, the werewolf set off quickly, building up speed just in time to outpace a few werewolves that had come tearing around the cabin.
 The wolves below glanced up and snarled. They’d undoubtedly know now that he was either a shapeshifter or some sort of familiar; no regular eagle could fly at night and still see. He’d have to worry about that later, for now his biggest concern was getting this poor werewolf below to safety.
 He watched as the wolf did his best to run, but was quickly tiring. The pack was closing in from multiple directions and before long they were nipping at his hindquarters, herding him towards the base of the mountain. The younger werewolf put up a valiant effort as injured as he was, attempting to dash in different directions, likely realizing what was happening.
 Glaz circled above, aware they were moving him towards the face of a rock wall, too sheer to climb up and to broad to go around now. He let lose a cry, frustrated with his lack of options as he could see the young wolf skid to a stop and stare up at him for a moment before pressing his side against the wall and growling as he faced the forest edge.
 The pack slowly came out of the trees, their leader padding out in front, large and a deep chestnut color as he emerged from the shadows. He was flanked on both sides by his pack as they sneered and snarled at the smaller werewolf. He recognized the werewolf that had found him at his shack standing slightly behind their pack leader and looking unbothered by the situation. The wolves snarled and barked at each other for a while before one of the faster ones lunched at the cornered wolf. The werewolf was able to intercept the lunge, grabbing it by the neck and flinging the wolf as it yelped. One of his legs nearly buckled, his shaking intensifying as they crowded in closer.
 Glaz desperately scanned the cliff, looking for an area to land before finding a ledge that stood out in the moonlight. He landed and shifted back into human form, tucking his legs under a rock for support before summoning his bow and drawing it back. The sniper fired just as one of the wolves leapt towards the young werewolf, hitting it in the heart and causing the others to recoil in surprise at this new development, howling at the sudden loss of one of their own.
 The werewolf he was helping looked up in surprise before turning his gaze back to the others and growling. Glaz caught another between the eyes as it tried to scramble up to his position and dropped a third as it tried to take down the younger wolf from behind. The pack below was gathered by their leader with a howl and prepared to attack together, knowing he’d be unable to take them all. They looked about ready to lunge forward when the young werewolf let out a rumbling bark and slammed his front to legs on the ground. Magic rippled through the earth, sending spikes of rocks and dirt roaring from the ground and towards his assailants. One hit the pack leader in the shoulder, sending him skittering back towards to forest while others were flung in various directions. Glaz had to scramble to find a hold on the cliff face as it too had started to shake.
 Suddenly unsure about the situation, the largest werewolf yipped and turned back, taking the others with him before they could panic and be picked off. The young wolf below growled as they retreated, but soon dropped to the ground in exhaustion. Glaz shifted to safely land next to him before changing back into human form and stretching out a hand. The werewolf snapped at him and panted, trying to push himself up.
 “Sssh, I’m the bird from before. We need to move. Can you walk?” The werewolf regarded him for a moment before closing his eyes. Matted fur shifted to dirty curls, skin, and tattered fabric. Tired blue eyes now regarded him from ground, searching his face in suspicion. The man was young, perhaps only a few years younger than Glaz appeared to be, but not nearly as young as his size had originally led the shapeshifter to believe. Given that and his earlier display of very powerful magic, he was likely high born.
 “I can walk,” the man rasped before coughing and clearing his throat, “they’ll be back once they’ve recovered.” Glaz stood and offered his hand. Still suspicious but unable to rise on his own, the man on the ground took it and allowed himself to be pulled up, gripping his side and hissing in pain.
 “Why are you helping me?” The man asked once standing, taking a couple steps back. Glaz could sense magic thrumming through the air and responded by gently pushing back with some of his own in warning.
 “I wish I knew myself. We can be wary of each other later, we need to move.” The other man didn’t look entirely please with this answer, but set off after Glaz as he made his way north along the cliff. They limped along in silence, both listening closely for signs of being followed. It was too slow for Glaz’s taste, but eventually the werewolf had healed through some of his injuries and they were able to pick up the speed. After several hours of no sounds, they relaxed a bit and moved away from the cliff, heading northeast.
 Eventually, the younger man broke the silence, “My name’s Rook by the way. I um, I never really thanked you properly for helping me.” He held out his hand towards Glaz, who regarded it for a second before shaking it and offering his name in return.
 “So what’s the plan, Glaz? Where did they ask you to meet them?” Glaz raised an eyebrow, perplexed.
 “I have no idea who ‘them’ is or what ‘they’ would have asked of me, but the plan is to keep heading north until I’m far away, and you can go in whatever direction you please.”
 “My pack…they didn’t ask you to help me?” Glaz shook his head and watched as Rook bit his lower lip and summoned a tattered map pointing at an area far to the northwest, “Can you help me get back home? It’s not safe to travel through these passes alone.”
 “No, I keep heading north and only north. I can stay until we meet the passes, but after that you’re on your own.” Rook gripped the map tightly, eyes squeezed tightly shut before nodding and returning to silence. Eventually the two found a small area they determined was relatively safe and one took watch while the other slept. They traveled like this over the next few days, constantly on high alert for the pack following them, only hearing their howls a few times.
 The werewolf’s cuts and bruises had nearly healed at this point allowing him to move without hissing in pain. The two did little talking until they crossed a ley line which Rook happily announced was the edge of the pack’s territory. After crossing, Rook was much more chipper, stress bleeding from his shoulders as they moved further away without incident.
 “So why only north? Did someone curse you to only walk in one direction?” Rook teased, poking at Glaz’s side.
 “It’s survival. I was chased out of my previous home and I don’t want to lead these people into my friends. I go north.” Glaz shrugged. He would start to get into colder territories the further north he went, but he wasn’t about to lead a wraith towards Fuze by escorting this werewolf.
 “It’d be safer if we travelled together and kept watch. I’m sure my fathe…pack wouldn’t mind if you hung around after.” Rook looked briefly distraught as he stumbled over his words but recovered quickly, smiling up at Glaz. While the idea was tempting, the shapeshifter reluctantly shook his head. Rook wasn’t taking no for an answer though, “It’d be easier to head north through the passes northwest and these areas aren’t exactly the safest to traverse alone. I’d bake you cookies for your trouble!” The werewolf leaned in close, gripping Glaz’s forearm, the strength of his grasp belying his happy façade. Glaz pinched the bridge of his nose, doing his best to avoid the puppy eyes that Rook was throwing in his direction. It’d be a pity to get him this far only to have him walk off a cliff. He told Rook as much before sighing.
 “Fine, I will walk you to your pack but no further. But you’re taking a bath at the next creek we find. You’re filthy and if the smell gets any worse, I don’t think I’ll be physically able to travel further with you.” Rook looked taken aback momentarily before giggling.
 “Well, I guess we’d better find a close stream. You’re no rose yourself.” He shifted, smelling the air before bounding off northwest. Glaz sighed and took to the skies, following Rook’s lead as he raced towards running water. The two reached the river at the same time, the summer flow chilly, but nice to wash the grime off their bodies. Rook whined when Glaz insisted on rinsing their clothes, protesting that they’d be wet for the rest of the day. The shapeshifter laughed at his shocked expression when he used a quick spell to dry the clothes in an instant.
 Now rinsed off, Glaz could see that Rook was quite handsome under all that dirt. His sides were still littered with faint bruises, but they had faded to less severe colors than he had glanced at a few days ago. The younger man was easy to converse with as he did a good job of carrying a conversation. Listening to him jabber, Glaz smiled softly. Rook was laughing about something when movement drew both of their eyes to the far bank of the river where they had just come from. A pale figure in dark robes stared across at them, looking out of place in the bright sunlight. Course blond hair was slicked back across his head and a thin line coursed across his sunken face, red eyes gleaming as he stared across. The figure lifted his hand and waved his fingers, causing Glaz’s stomach to drop out; the wraith had caught up with them.
 The three stared at each other, unwilling to look away. Glaz could feel the faint tug of magic across the running water, enticing him to walk back across. He was leaning forward, ready to take a step in that direction when Rook placed a hand on his shoulder, face filled with worry. The spell broken, the wraith finally looked down at the water, unable to cross, and glared at them before turning back into the forest and disappearing.
 “Where’s the nearest bridge?” Rook summoned his map, looking confused and worried by Glaz’s ashen face. “Five days journey north. Four days back south to meet up with the path.”
 “The wraith will clear that in half the time. We need to get moving.” Happiness gone, they shifted, making faster time in their alternate forms than they would on the ground, resting only shortly over the next few days until they neared the opening to the mountain pass. As if to add injury to insult, the clouds that had been coalescing released their burden on their heads, drenching the two.
 “What did that pack want from you?” Glaz asked as they trudged along, the rain discouraging him from flying. Rook glanced over suspiciously, eyes scanning Glaz’s face before shrugging and looking back at the path. Glaz determined that it was probably a bad conversation starter and vowed to let Rook lead conversations in the future.
 “I’m not entirely sure. I know they were hurting me in an effort to get the rest of my pack to come rescue me, but I don’t know to what end.” Rook rubbed his thumb over his index finger, a tic Glaz noticed he only did when uncomfortable or lying. They’d very obviously been looking for answers to a question Glaz didn’t know.
 “You’re high born, they probably wanted to hold you for ransom or hoped you had information.” Glaz offered, an attempt to provide him an out and end the conversation. He didn’t expect Rook to turn to him, face panicked as he backed away. Glaz barely had time to open his mouth before the ground underneath him roiled, mud climbing up his legs and pulling him down. The shapeshifter held out his hands, trying to get the younger man to calm down while not to panicking himself. Rook’s magic was strong and there was no way he’d get himself out of this without killing the werewolf if it came down to a fight.
 “How did you know that? What do you want from me?” Rook’s voice was higher than usual but carried a tone that left no room for conversation, outstretched hand shaking as he carefully watched Glaz, magic humming in the air. When all he received was a confused glance, the mud tightened around the shapeshifter and climbed higher, pulling him further into the ground. Glaz decided now was probably not the best time to point out that Rook’s magic would be a giant flashing beacon for their location and opted instead to answer his questions.
 “One of my squadmates, he shifted into a wolf. He was constantly getting confused for a werewolf, so he took it upon himself to learn a lot about your hierarchy and passed on the info to me.” Rook still looked unsure, shoulder’s relaxing slightly but still uneasy. Glaz continued, “I wasn’t aware it wasn’t common knowledge that only high borns had access to magic, otherwise I wouldn’t have mentioned it” Rook swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing as he seemed to weigh his options. The way the rain hit his face made it look as if tears may have been running down his cheeks, but Glaz couldn’t be sure. “If I let you up, do you swear you weren’t sent by someone?” Glaz nodded, hands still held out, though now they were nearly brushing the dirt. After a moment, the ground heaved and spit him up on the path, mud now covering his lower body. Rook waved a hand and the debris came off, leaving only excess moisture behind. The werewolf offered his hand, which Glaz accepted to pull himself up and they started trudging through the mud again.
 A few hours of tense silence later, Glaz received a mumbled “sorry” which he dismissed, assuring the other that he understood his wariness. Tension fell out of Rook’s shoulders and the two continued to hike in a better atmosphere.
  Nearing the peak and after several days of moving in the rain, the downpour picked up and the two decided it would be best to seek shelter for the night. They were nearing the more dangerous part of their journey, as they’d have to pass over another ley line and through sorcerer territory and needed their rest to be alert. Over the last day, Rook had been much more sullen than usual, discomfort written across his face. Glaz worried perhaps the previous events were finally catching up to him and had pushed harder for a rest.
 After some searching for a dry place, the two found a small cave and curled up in it, Glaz able to clear the water out of the drenched wood to make a small fire. He looked worriedly over at Rook who was sweating and groaning occasionally in pain. He wanted to ask, but after the incident a few days ago, Glaz knew that it was best to let the other man open up when he was ready.
 “Nnnn, why does it hurt so much to be away from my pack?” Rook asked later that night, clutching his head and gritting his teeth as he laid curled up on the ground, desperately fighting the urge to shift and howl in sorrow. Glaz sighed softly from his place at the fire before getting up and pulling Rook into his chest, wrapping his arms around him tightly, understanding now the other’s struggle. Rook stiffened initially, but the contact was calming and he eventually relaxed as much as he could with the pain.
 “It doesn’t get easier, but it does get less painful. I have yet to lose the ache, but at least I don’t feel the pain of constantly trying to connect.” Eyebrows still pinched in pain, Rook opened his eyes to stare up at Glaz, curiosity and discomfort written in his yellow gaze.
 “I didn’t realize shapeshifters pack bonded. Do you…do you hear them when you’re together?” Glaz nodded. “What…What happened to them? I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.” Glaz was silent a moment, staring into the flickering flames before he felt he could speak, ache straining his voice.
 “There was a…coup by one of the high houses. They carry a great deal of power within our land and had amassed support from some of the other high families. My squad, or pack as you call it, swore an oath to protect the ruling family, but in the end there was little we could do from our position. When we returned, we realized staying was pointless. We were forced to scatter in four cardinal directions or face death for standing against the new king. I headed as far north as I could without drawing too much attention to myself, but eventually they found me and here I am. Though I’m moving further west than is probably wise.” Rook had wrapped his arms around Glaz partway through the story, rubbing soothing circles into his skin as he finished. The shapeshifter looked back down as saw that Rook’s eyes had settled back to their usual color, his mind taken off of shifting for the moment.
 “So you haven’t heard from them at all this whole time? How long has it been?”
 “Three years. The night before I first saw you was the first and last time I heard from my squad in that time. Kapkan, he’s a panther shifter, was close enough to make contact. I can only hope that everything’s alright.” The panic in Kapkan’s voice gave Glaz anxiety, but the older man was clever and his dark otherform should have given him the ability to blend into the night if he needed to escape. Rook tightened his grip around him and nuzzled his head into Glaz’s chest. The older man returned the hug and relaxed back against the cave wall.
 “Hopefully you’ll be able to see them again one day.” Rook mumbled, already nodding off to sleep. Glaz hummed in response, tiredness overtaking him as they both drifted off to sleep.
  The next morning the rain had stopped, leaving only a grey sky behind. The fire had long since died to embers when the two rose, thankful that they’d gone unbothered during the night. They went about their morning routine, Glaz quickly hunting down some small game while Rook replenished their water supply, careful to stay close to each other. With that done, the two agreed to change to their alternate form; a lone wolf and an eagle were more likely to go unbothered as they moved through the rest of the pass.
 In the next few days, Glaz ended up clearing out a small group of men that had been waiting to ambush them in the canyon, bow making short work of the humans after they showed intentions of harming Rook below. He’d nearly stepped in one of their bear traps, but a swift arrow triggered it before he could. The werewolf looked up at him and wagged his tail before they carried on, but Glaz felt as if his actions had drawn the attention of some sort of magic. The moment they crossed the ley line, this sensation increased drastically, causing Glaz to spiral lower to the ground to keep a closer eye on Rook. The wolf looked up at him in confusion, but Glaz kept it to himself. Nothing happened for several miles, yet the shapeshifter was still unable to shake off the feeling.
 As the ground flattened and widened out, storm clouds rapidly formed above the two, electricity crackling through the air. Glaz narrowly avoided a streak that rose from the ground, magic coming off of it in waves. He dipped the other way as another bolt formed, desperately scanning the ground for Rook. As he did so a third strike clapped, and he barely dodged, singing his wing feathers in the process and sending him spiraling towards the ground. He hit hard, now thankful for how close he was originally, but too dazed to do much more than lay on his back in his otherform. A foot stomped down hard on his right wing, causing him to cry out in pain, the noise coming out as a shrill chirp.
 Electricity dazed him, preventing him from moving or fighting back as he stared up at the man above him. At first glance, he feared it was the wraith after seeing blond hair and pale skin. However, while this man was the same height, his face was bearded and much less sunken in. Brown eyes regarded him with apathy as he extended his hand, fingers crackling with magic and electricity.
 “Bandit, stop tormenting it and let’s go back home. I’m cold and wet now thanks to you.” The man above him turned to look over his shoulder and started to respond when he was hit from the side by a furry mass. Bandit rolled to his feet some distance away, leaving a stunned Glaz to stare up at Rook’s fur as the werewolf crouched over him and snarled.
 “I hope you’re ready for a fight. It looks like this one’s not too happy.” Bandit called over, a smirk on his face. Rook’s growling suddenly stopped as he looked over at whoever Bandit was talking to. He stepped forward and shifted, leaving a very confused Glaz and Bandit to stare at him.
 “Blitz?” Rook asked hesitantly. Glaz flailed to his feet, talons slipping in the mud as he attempted to get a look at the man that Rook was addressing. The other man’s chiseled features and bright blue eyes were undeniably attractive and Glaz felt an unwarranted twinge of jealously as Rook flung himself into his arms. Bandit made a retching noise as Blitz swung Rook around in his arms, before turning back to Glaz and waving his hand. Tight restraints held his wings tight against his sides and his beak closed, runes glowing bright yellow as he attempted to shift and was unable to do so. Glaz panicked, his breath quickening as he attempted to keep his mind in the present and not drifting back. The panic started to overtake him as his mind was drug back into old thoughts, wings throbbing with the memories of missing feathers and pain and…suddenly Rook was holding him softly petting his head before turning to angrily look at the yelling that was happening in the background. The contact brought him back to the present slowly, worry marring Rook’s face as he looked back down at Glaz.
 “…he’s led a wraith right into our home. You want to just let them continue traipsing through?” Bandit was shouting in the background and Glaz attempted to crane his head around to see. The two watched as electricity crackled through the air towards them only to be stopped when Blitz threw up a shield of bright white light.
 “Rook’s a friend.” Blitz was unwilling to back down, stance ready for a fight. After a few tense moments, Bandit growled and threw his hands in the air in defeat.
“We’re too exposed. Grab your mutt and chicken and let’s discuss this somewhere else.” Rook relaxed his grip a bit as he looked at Blitz, who sighed and motioned them to follow. It wasn’t a long walk to the house where they were led, but Glaz felt extremely vulnerable the entire time. The smell of burnt feathers and the ache in his wing weren’t making it any better.
 Once inside, Bandit snapped his fingers, instantly removing the stains he’d acquired when Rook had tackled him. A slight blond woman popped her head around the corner to greet them followed by a gangly man.
 “You’re not coming into the house like that and getting it all dirty!” She exclaimed waving her hand to seal the door and remove the dirt they’d drug in with them, dropping it neatly into a bucket. Blitz looked a bit sheepish as she scolded him for not letting her know that Rook was stopping by. “I would have made something better for dinner!” She finally exclaimed.
 “They’re not staying long, IQ. Jager, let me know if anything else breaches the perimeter will you.” One last glare in their direction, Bandit drifted out of the room. IQ rolled her eyes and ushered them into the kitchen digging out food from the cabinets, happily chattering about what spells she’d developed since they’d last seen each other while Rook attempted to get a word in edgewise.
 “I don’t mean to interrupt, I’d love to hear more about your new wards, but do you think you could take these off my friend?” He asked finally, motioning towards the bound Glaz who was still being cradled in his arms. IQ looked to Blitz for permission, but once he nodded, she smiled brightly and passed her hand across the bindings. “Bandit’s powerful, but he’s not nearly as good with this kind of magic as I am.” She winked as the last fell away. Rook set Glaz down on the floor so he could shift. Grateful, he stretched out his wings to inspect the burnt feathers before he shifted. He grimaced as the change turned singed feathers to burnt skin, pain shooting up his forearm and earning a worried look from Rook. Once they were settled, Blitz excused himself, leaving the two alone with the sorcerers.
 As IQ continued to talk about her magic detecting spells with Jager interjecting with a few of his newest defense runes, Blitz and Bandit could be heard yelling from the other room, lighting flashing occasionally when they got particularly heated. Blitz returned shortly before dinner was ready, looking exasperated but letting Rook and Glaz know that they were welcome to stay the night in the spare room. Glaz was apprehensive about staying under the same roof as Bandit, but knew they couldn’t afford to pass up a relatively safe rest if what Bandit had said was true and the wrath had been close enough to be detected at their border.
 Dinner was simple yet good. Glaz hadn’t had a proper meal in years and had to stop himself from shoveling it into his mouth. Rook on the other hand showed no such restraint, inhaling his meal before asking for a seconds. Cleanup was done with magic and a loud yawn from Rook was the only cue the sorcerers needed to usher them off to bed.
 After being shown the room, the three left, wishing them a goodnight. The guest room was small, but contained a bed and a washroom. Glaz was about to turn to Rook and ask him which side he wanted when the other man was pulling off the shapeshifter’s jacket and undoing his shirt buttons. Glaz’s face lit up bright red as his hand flew up to grab onto Rook’s wrists.
 “What are you doing?” Rook’s hands stilled as he looked up at first in confusion but as realization hit, deep embarrassment, face changing to mirror Glaz’s.
 “I…you…your wing.” Glaz quirked an eyebrow and Rook stammered on to explain further, “Your wing was hurt earlier and you looked like you were in pain when you shifted. I have a cream my friend made me for burns I was going to put on it.” Rook stepped back, rubbing one shoulder with the opposite hand. Glaz chuckled and finished getting out of his shirt, trying not to cringe as the fabric slid over his burn. Looking at his forearm, the skin showed evidence of an electrical burn, thick and matching with the outline of feather ends. The shapeshifter grimaced, knowing it would take him at least a week to heal through it.
 True to his word, Rook pulled out a small tin from a pocket. Cracking it open, it smelled heavily of flowers and was strongly imbued with healing magics. Glaz hissed and pulled back as Rook’s finger made contact. “Oh stop that. This will only take a moment.” Glaz watched Rook as he worked, taking in his features and attempting to memorize them. He was somewhat disappointed when the younger man finished his ministrations; after years of having no contact he had to admit he found the touch comforting. The werewolf didn’t step back though, but instead turned his attention to Glaz’s chest, eyes roving over the skin.
 “You have so many scars.” He said softly, his hand hovered hesitantly above them. He looked up for permission to touch, to which Glaz nodded, unwilling to ruin the moment with words. Rook’s fingers danced over the edges of them, spending more time tracing over the deeper ones, looking at them with reverence. His hand found the one on his side and he chased it around his back, sliding behind Glaz to see the rest. The shapeshifter bit his lip as Rook found the deep lash marks, embarrassed by their presence. Rook made a sound of distress as he outlined them. “Where did you get them all?”
 Glaz was silent for a moment longer, unsure of how he wanted to answer and how much he wanted to give away. “When you live for two hundred years, you pick up a few scars.” Rook hummed in thought. “I’m nearly that old and I don’t have even half the scars you do,” he said softly, before tracing the brand mark on the sniper’s shoulder. Dark memories flashed briefly and Glaz pulled away and turned to face Rook.
 “Perhaps you’ll have to fight a few more wars then.” Rook stepped closer, hovering uncertainly for a moment before turning to the bed. “We should probably get some rest. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow since Bandit’s being a tool.” Glaz snorted.
 They settled into the bed, both at far ends as they stared up at the ceiling. Glaz debated asking his next question, but ultimately decided he needed the answer. “Are you and Blitz…dating?” Rook huffed in amusement rolling over in bed to look at Glaz who steadfastly avoided eye contact.
 “We had a fling about fifty years ago, but our magics just never were compatible so we called it off. It was mutual so we’ve kept in contact. What about you? Any attractive prospects you’re longing for back home.” Glaz laughed and rolled to face him.
 “The only one of us that ever found time to flirt was Tachanka. He and a much younger women, Finka, made a competition out of it. They didn’t ever go anywhere but it was just as impressive as it was nauseating to listen to.”
 “What was he? No wait, don’t answer, let me guess. A sea otter? Or deer? Ooh, was he a parakeet?” Glaz shook his head as Rook pouted. “He’s a bear. The oldest and biggest out of all of us. The lucky man got to head south where it’s warm while I’m stuck up here freezing my feathers off during the winters.”
 “It’s not winter, but we werewolves tend to stay pretty warm. Feel free to let me know if you get too cold tonight.” Rook smirked and winked as he scooted closer. The pair laughed as they settled back on the mattress, quickly falling asleep.
  Waking up to a warm bed and a warm body was something Glaz hadn’t experienced in a long while. He continued to lay there, wondering how Rook had managed to drape himself over top of him in the middle of the night, but ultimately deciding he really didn’t mind terribly. Rook’s soft breaths, in and out, whispered across the older man’s face, even and calming. When Rook finally did rouse, he looked vaguely embarrassed about their position but not uncomfortable, causing Glaz to briefly wonder about what could have been last night if he wasn’t so jumpy. Shaking the thought from his head as he rose, the two got ready, taking full advantage to the water that was magically piped throughout the house. Rook took ages in the shower, but graciously waited for Glaz to get done before seeking out their hosts.
 Wandering to the kitchen, Glaz took in all the woodwork that adorned the house; it radiated old magics, yet was well cared for. While he had a vague memory of where they had been led last night, he made it a point to keep track of these things, Rook was infinitely more comfortable with the layout, happily padding along the corridors until they emerged into the kitchen. The four sorcerers were gathered around the breakfast bar deep in conversation, which halted abruptly when Glaz and Rook made an appearance. Bandit shot them a dirty look before huffing out of the room, taking coffee and a plate with him.
 Rook gave Blitz a confused and vaguely hurt glance which the older man waved off and wished them both a good morning, ushering them over to the table for a meal. Breakfast wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but good nonetheless. Glaz found it difficult to relax and engage in the conversations, still apprehensive about how much they were intruding. After so much solitude, it was jarring to be surrounded by this much activity all at once, and it was beginning to give Glaz sensory overload.
 After clearing the dishes, the easy conversation became more serious as the three sorcerers shot each other more glances when they thought that Glaz and Rook weren’t looking. Rook that finally addressed the hippogriff in the room when it became apparent none of them wanted to broach the conversation.
 “We’ll be out hair today, though I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’d help me make it home?” Rook looked hopeful, but his face quickly fell as Blitz sighed from where he was leaning against the counter and rubbed his face.
 “I’d love to Rook, I truly would. But we need to watch the border. Our magic stopped that wraith from crossing too far in, but there’s no telling when he’ll be back.” Rook bit his lip and nodded, eyes downcast. Blitz looked crushed to see his expression fall but stood firm, “I’m sorry, we’ll provide you with what you need to get you there, but you’re on your own.” Blitz reached out and gripped Rook’s arm. When Rook nodded sharply, Blitz pulled him into a tight hug which Rook tearfully returned. Glaz turned his eyes away, feeling as if he was intruding on their moment together. When the two finally pulled apart, Rook wiped his tear filled eyes and glanced over towards the shapeshifter, who was awkwardly observing the stonework of the fireplace.
 “At least I’ll have Glaz with me. Otherwise, I probably would have accidentally walked myself off of a cliff by now.” He said with a wink. The shapeshifter smiled softly as the sorcerers laughed, IQ stepping in for her hug while Jager stood off to the side. Rook seemed the most relaxed he’d been since they met, even with the knowledge that they’d still be traveling alone for the last leg of their journey. While Glaz knew it was foolish, he was secretly pleased that he’d get to continue spending time with his companion before he inevitably began his journey north again. He’d miss all of the company that the younger man had provided when they finally split ways.
 True to their word, the three gave them food to last the rest of their journey, ensuring they wouldn’t have to constantly forage and hunt. Rook had apparently left a few clothes with Blitz, and so Jager renewed the enchantments on an old backpack of Rook’s so that he’d be able to shift with it and keep their supplies intact. When Jager had instructed him to shift with it on to make sure it worked, the werewolf ran in circles trying to get a good look at it on his back before he realized what he was doing and sheepishly changed, cheeks bright red as the three sorcerers cackled. There were more hugs and tears as they got ready to depart, while Glaz hung back and politely waited. He was surprised when IQ came up and gave him a similar hug.
 “Thank you for looking out for him.” She whispered before backing up and waving them off. Glaz returned the sentiment with a stiff wave and quickly fell in step with Rook as he started up the path. Once out of sight of the cabin, Glaz began chewing on his lower lip, thinking for a moment before finally gathering his words.
 “You know, if you stayed and I carried on, they could probably see you home.” Glaz said softly. Rook looked at him, slightly surprised before giving him a small smile.
 “Now you sound like Blitz. You think after all you’ve done for me, I’d just bail on you?” Glaz shrugged and opened his mouth to give him the pros of staying behind when Rook interrupted and continued on, “We’re finishing this out together. Besides, I enjoy traveling with you. It’s nice. And I promised you cookies.” The shapeshifter felt his face warm slightly, turning away to glance over around at the forest surrounding them as if he was suddenly incredibly interested in the happenings of squirrels.
 These woods were much more open and brighter than the previous ones had been, the path occasionally opening up through massive fields thick with crops. Walking through such open areas was strange to Glaz, but Blitz had politely asked that they maintain their human forms while traveling through. Rook had happily agreed, though Glaz still had his reservations. The presence of electricity never left the air though, and the shapeshifter was sure they were being watched closely.
 Bubbly at the idea of being so close to home, Rook chattered about the area he lived in and how wonderful his pack was. Glaz kept the conversation up by asking a few questions every now and again, but was happy to let Rook lead. Gradually they’d started to find common ground, and Glaz had grown to know what areas were safe and which were a veritable mine field. Walking in their human form permitted them to maintain easy conversations over the next few days and Rook gradually got Glaz to open up some about where he was from. The shapeshifter had to admit the mood was infectious as he laughed while he told Rook the story of Fuze creating magical glitter bombs to get back at Kapkan for turning his clothes pink in the wash. They’d found glitter in their clothes for the next month, but the memory was a fond one.
 The mood soured a bit as they approached the edge of the sorcerers’ territory. There was a swath of land between their protected border and Rook’s home that they’d have to cross. While it was only a day’s travel, both were both worried about what they may encounter during that time, though Rook was much more optimistic, reasoning that the wraith should have no idea what direction they were actually headed.
 Crossing the ley line was uneventful, something that Glaz was thankful for. The two continued on in relative peace for several hours, sun reaching its zenith in the sky as they crossed a large grassy field.
 “Ugh, I didn’t think I’d say it, but this sun is too much for me. I can’t wait we make it back into the woods.” Glaz laughed and peered over. It’d be another half hour hike before they reached the shade. Saying as much, Rook groaned and pouted. While Rook complained about the unfairness of it all, Glaz’s hair stood on end and his breath caught in his throat. Dark magic thrummed through the air, sparking with energy. Spinning to his right, Glaz watched as members of the King’s royal guard emerged from the shadowy glimmer that had concealed their presence. They’d flanked around behind them, leaving only forward as an option to run.
 Glaz gripped onto Rook’s tunic collar and pushed him forward, urging him to run as fast as he could as shadowy tendrils chased their feet. Despite their haste, the other shapeshifters seemed to be catching up with them, some taking their otherforms to close the distance. A fox closed in from the left and Glaz let loose a fire spell, sending it flying back with a yelp. There was no way the two would be able to outrun them, even if they shifted, not together at least.
 It didn’t look like there were many of the aviary unit here, only a few crows and magpies had begun circling above. Glaz was confident he could escape them if he took off soon, but doing so would condemn Rook to being captured and killed.
 “Rook, shift and run towards the tree line and then keep running. Don’t stop.” Rook looked at him, expression terrified. He nodded and took off, easily outpacing Glaz in his alternate form. Glaz’s breathing had picked up, chest tight at the thought of what he was planning. He stopped and turned, summoning his bow to hit a mountain lion as she flew past, intent on chasing down the werewolf. Another arrow, another former comrade, and now they were getting wise. A silky mink shifted into her human form, dark blue garments marking her house as she tried to restrain him with her water magic. Undeterred, Glaz cast a spell to vaporize it instantly before returning the favor, fire flashing across the field, igniting the grass as it went. She shifted back and scurried off, rejoining the rest of the guard which had formed a line a good distance away from Glaz, the magpie and crows settling down a next to them.
 “Timur Glazkov, by decision of the King, you were found guilty of high treason. It is your duty to accompany us back and face your punishment.” The man who spoke was tall, slim and muscular, dressed in a deep green tunic. Glaz recognized him from his years in the guard and knew he wasn’t one to be trifled with, especially when he was flanked by five others. The sniper responded by a knocking an arrow and firing quickly. However, it was stopped midair, dark shadow catching it just in front of the guard’s face.
 The wraith coalesced much closer, bringing with him the full force of the magic that Glaz had sensed earlier, dropping the glimmer nearly right in front of him. Before he could respond, the wraith kicked him the chest, sending him flying and hitting the ground hard. Faster than the eye could follow, the wraith was on him. Glaz did his best to respond with magic, but was blown back again this time feeling a spike of pain in his leg. Grabbing it and groaning, Glaz anxiously looked for a way out. The wraith was advancing again, taking his time having sensed weakness and fear. As he stepped closer, rocky spikes extended from the ground, causing his figure to dissipate and reform further back, malicious expression on his face.
 Glaz was confused for a moment before a soft whine was heard behind him and a furry muzzle attempted to drag him to his feet. The shapeshifter winced in pain and pushed the head away, turning to see Rook motioning for him to follow.
 “Leave you idiot. I told you to run.” A soft growl and Rook attempted to drag Glaz again, causing the shapeshifter to shove him harder this time. He glanced back and the wraith was once again drawing close, a sly smile on his face as his eyes focused on Rook. “Go you moron, move!” The werewolf was taken aback but moved in towards Glaz yet again.
 Fire ignited next to Rook, causing him to leap and look around in confusion before Glaz did it again. The werewolf back pedaled and Glaz raised a wall of fire between them. He caught Rook’s expression through the flames, ears dropped back against his head and tail tucked between his legs as he whined. “Get out of here, you stupid mutt!”
 Rook finally took off, just in time for Glaz to feel an ice cold hand slide around his neck and cut off his oxygen supply. He did his best to claw at the hand and get air, but his vision was slowly turning black on the edges as the guards from earlier closed around him. The pummel of a sword collided with his temple and he blacked out.
  When Glaz awoke, he was in a much different place. He was strapped shirtless to a hard table by his hands and feet, runes drawn on the bindings and his chest that prevented him from using magic or shifting. The shapeshifter gave an experimental tug at the bindings, but they held firm. Dark stone walls were all he could see as he craned his head. A small fire flickering from a torch in the corner gave him some light. This wasn’t an area he recognized, it didn’t look like any of the castle dungeons he knew.
 A creak was heard behind him and light briefly lit up the far wall, leaving a large shadow across the stone as a figure slid in. Another creak and the door fell shut, leaving him alone with whoever had entered. Looking over to his right, he was met with red eyes and a pleased smile. The sunken face was even more apparent up close, cheek bones sharp enough to seemingly cut through the thin skin on the wraith’s face. The blonde hair that was slicked back on his head was extremely coarse though well maintained. Despite the deathly appearance, all of these features were strikingly familiar.
 “Bandit?” Glaz asked, shocked. The smile fell instantly, the wraith’s upper lip twitching as if to pull up into a snarl before he quickly regained his composure with a sigh.
 “Ahh, not quite, though I see you’ve met my brother. He’s quite the handful, isn’t he?” Glaz blinked at him, watching as he traced his finger absentmindedly along a scar that marred his pale neck and disappeared down into his robes. “Though that’s nothing compared to what you’ve been recently! I’ve had to chase you halfway across the country but now I have you and we can have a bit of fun.” The wraith traced one of the runes on Glaz’s chest almost tenderly before making eye contact and baring his teeth in a crude imitation of a smile.
 Shadows licked up Glaz’s sides, caressing them softly as the wraith brought his hand up to the sniper’s face. He growled and tried to pull away, but the wraith was fast and there was nowhere to go. He quickly ensnared Glaz’s temples between his thumb and index finger, magic a dull buzz against the shapeshifter’s head.
 “Now just sit still and let me work. I need to have a quick conversation with your traitor friends, and then we can have some real fun.” Glaz cried out as he felt a pressure in his head, magic pushing into his thoughts and searching for his bond to his squad. He fought against it, breathing heavily and throwing up mental barriers wherever he could. “I do like a bit of fight, but come now, it’ll be much easier if we just get this over with.”
 The pressure had built up even more as the wraith found exactly what he was looking for. Glaz focused and retreated inward as he was trained to do. In Glaz’s mind’s eye, he was standing in front of a hallway that let to an atrium with three closed doors. Shadows pressed against the opening to the hallway, pushing against him in a bid to get through, but he stood firm. The pressure increased, growing uncomfortably strong until it was nearly unbearable. He stood strong, pushing against it with all his might. He cried out as pain erupted in his injured leg, momentarily bringing him back up to see that the wraith had wrapped a shadow tendril around it and was squeezing hard. Glaz reentered his mind and prevented the advancement of the darkness as it started to swallow the first part of the hallway. Grunting and pushing, Glaz repelled it, forcing the magic to yield its ground until he was in the same position as before.
 The hand was pulled away from his forehead and Glaz laid there panting, sweat dripping down his forehead and into his eyes. The wraith before him looked more vexed than anything else though and hadn’t broken a sweat. This went on for what seemed like ages, Glaz coming to each time even more exhausted, body littered with slight scratches and deep bruises where the wraith had attempted to replicated his earlier success to no avail.
 “Hmmm, I think it may be time for a new approach. Perhaps I’ll make them come to you.” Glaz frowned. Their bond was still shut off from his end, so it would be fruitless for the wraith to try and summon them that way. Sneering at his confusion, the wraith replaced his hand, sending Glaz back to the same hallway. This time, rather than a solid black wall, small tendrils formed, wrapping around Glaz and holding him suspended in the hallway, like a fly caught in a web. He could still repel them from advancing, so the new impasse puzzled Glaz, until electricity sparked through them, hitting Glaz and ricocheting around the hallways until it found the doors, slamming into each one. Somehow from this position, the shapeshifter felt more connected, like the other three were just on the other sides of the door, their connection somehow amplified.
 It wasn’t long until a door was pushed open, followed by two more. He could feel them, confused and worried. For a beat, nothing happened, Glaz hung suspended in his mind repelling the tendrils.
 “Glaz?” Came a soft voice from behind him, Fuze’s voice echoing over to the other two. He tried to force the doors closed, but was unable to do so, incapable of closing off the bond while still standing guard.
 “Awww, hello there. Thanks for joining us!” The wraith’s voice reverberated through Glaz’s head, impossible loud.
 “Glaz what’s going on? Talk to us.” Kapkan was worried. Glaz could feel it as if it were his own and suddenly the renewed connection between the four of them hit him in full force, giddiness overflowing into laughter and tears. When death claimed him, at least he’d been able to feel this one last time. Tachanka was concerned more now, loud voice breaking through Glaz’s moment as he likely felt every emotion Glaz did.
 The shapeshifter’s heart dropped when he realized what the wraith was doing. He may not be able to get at them directly through Glaz, but with their bond he could make them suffer with him. He desperately attempted to cut them off, trying to convey to them what was happening, but the tendrils were wrapped tight around his mouth.
 “Why don’t we take a trip down memory lane for dear Glaz here? I found a large section of repressed memories when I was looking for you all. Let’s have a movie night, shall we?”
 Glaz didn’t know how long this went on, old memories and pain being unearthed. His squad’s indignation and outrage helped at first, but his thought eventually faded into nothing but agony and deep embarrassment that they were watching all of this happen, things he’d managed to previously keep to himself. While these memories were horrible, they weren’t things that created lasting damage, ensuring that the wraith would be able to keep this going.
 When the void finally claimed him, he could hear his team shouting in the background. He eventually came to on a cold table, the wraith was nowhere to be found, loud claps of thunder reverberating from outside instead. Glaz laid there dazed, wondering what kind of storm was this loud, when there were shouts in the hallway. The door flew open and Glaz flinched, turning his head away from whoever answered.
 “Glaz!” someone shouted and started tugging at his restraints, another hand quickly dissolving the runes on his chest. The shapeshifter finally opened his eyes, seeing Rook, his hair tousled and looking worried, but otherwise unharmed. He was wearing sturdy black leather armor across his chest, which covered up his navy undertunic. Across from him and making short work of the runes was IQ, dressed in sorcerer’s battle garb, green metal plates glinting in the flickering fire light.
 “What are you…doing here?” Glaz slurred as he was hefted up. His arm was looped over Rook’s shoulder so that he could support his injured leg. A quick assessment and Rook seemed satisfied for the moment, motioning for IQ and hauling Glaz out as quickly as possible. The hallways were cold and absolutely brimming with energy. The smooth stone floors felt nice on the shapeshifter’s bleeding feet as he allowed himself to be pulled along, his two companions dealing with anyone who appeared. Rounding the corner, a shaggy grey wolf snarled, causing IQ to take a step back and summon sigils into her palms. Rook held up as hand as the wolf advanced, calming as he sniffed Glaz and nuzzled against his belly.
 “Fuze?” Despite his mental haze, Glaz couldn’t mistake the wolf in front of him. Something pushed into his head, making him groan in discomfort before he could hear a voice over the ache. “We have to move.” The wolf motioned for the three to follow and Glaz did his utter best to focus, mind sore from the new intrusion but still oddly comforted. His thoughts would occasionally get lost down darker pathways, and a few times, Fuze would turn and look back at him worriedly.
 Once outside, electricity and dark energy crackled through the air, opposing each other as flashes of light illuminated the sky. Rook looked worriedly towards where most of the light and flashes were coming from before being met by a group of three men and a woman, dressed similarly to Rook. The one man was tall and broad, while the other two were much smaller in comparison. One of the men quickly made his way over, receiving a warning growl from Fuze before being permitted close.
 “This is Doc, one of my pack. Hold still while he gets you sorted.” Glaz attempted to nod at Rook’s words, but ended up allowing his head to roll to the side to rest on his shoulder. Doc’s hands flitted over him, a warm magic spreading through his chest and mending most of the physical pain. His leg let out a sickening pop that hurt for a moment, but quickly settled down. The group kept exchanging glances, communication between them unavailable to IQ and Glaz.
While they sorted things out, another two intrusions had Glaz groaning again and gripping his head; Tachanka and Kapkan waited for him to adjust before assessing his condition and probing for information. Glaz could sense them fighting, especially when a claw caught Tachanka across the flank, causing him and Fuze to both wince. Whoever had done it was not long for this world. Brain still addled, Glaz struggled to piece the situation together. However, it was only a moment before Jager joined them looking harried and waving a slightly bloodied pouch. IQ said something and Glaz could only squint, hearing distorted.
 Through his bond, he felt the overwhelming urge to shift and looked over to see Fuze staring him down. The wolf nodded and increased the pressure before Glaz shifted. He probably looked to be a sorry state, his transformation slow and his feathers winding up all askew. He nearly toppled, but a suddenly human Fuze had plucked him off the ground and was nestling him in the pouch that was being strapped onto Rook. He petted his feathers briefly, at which Fuze glared at before looking confused when all Glaz could think was that it felt nice. Quirking an eyebrow, Fuze said something and the pack had shifted, five werewolves in light armor now surrounding Fuze and the sorcerers. Glaz lost consciousness as they set off, leaving Fuze to wave before turning back to the fortress as lightning to continue to cut across the sky.
 When Glaz finally awoke, the lights were dim and the room quiet. He briefly panicked, unsure of his surroundings and fearing that he may have dreamed the entire rescue, shutting any mental openings down sharply. A few moments and he was able to discern that the ceiling was not made of stone, but instead painted wood. He tried to pull himself up, but could barely manage to raise his head, dull pain spreading through his limbs which refused to obey. He’d most certainly overdone himself and could tell his stores of magic had been all but exhausted. As he laid there and contemplated his next actions, the door swung open, light making him flinch as his headache spiked.
 “Ahh, hello there. How are you feeling?” The man stepped in and softly closed the door behind him, voice thankfully low. Glaz struggled to get a decent look at the man who had entered, and vaguely recognized him from before but couldn’t remember his name. The shapeshifter grunted noncommittedly as he stepped closer, starting and leaning away as a hand was extended towards his forehead.
 “Hmm, you’re still quite drained. I can mend your physical wounds, but your fatigue is out of my control. Regardless-” The door flew open before he could finish, smacking into the wall as three large men barged in.
 “Doc, you were supposed to tell us when Glaz woke up!” Tachanka spoke, grin stretched across his face as he marched in, followed closely by Fuze and Kapkan. Doc sighed and motioned for them to quiet down. Glaz’s headache had spiked drastically with the sound and light, but couldn’t help to grin like an idiot. Fuze pushed past Doc and wrapped him in a tight hug which Glaz could only attempt to return in his weakened state. Failing that, he opted to bury his face into his squadmate’s shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent. Glaz was vaguely aware of Doc being shooed out in the background, noticing the change in light as the door closed. After a moment, he felt something probing at his mind and automatically tightened up, panic rising in the back of his throat. He wasn’t strong enough for a second go of this. Was it all a trap to lure him into complacency? What if--
 “Relax. It’s just us. Let us in Timur.” Hearing his true name, Glaz attempted to relax, only just noticing that he’d still locked his fellow shapeshifters out of his mind. A supportive hand came to rest on his back while he breathed deep and did his best to open up what he’d closed off previously. Gradually, their emotions were able to slip through, filled with worry, relief, and joy. Fuze held him tighter as this happened, whispering that he was doing a good job. Eventually he was able to tear down most of his mental barriers that he’d erected earlier, reforming his bond tentatively. The others were overjoyed and they rapidly offered him their memories of their time apart.
 “Tachanka, you and Kapkan were together for the last month?” Glaz pulled his head back from Fuze to squint at the two, who chuckled. They’d apparently been chased towards each other and decided there was strength in numbers. The night Kapkan had contact him the hunter had in fact run into the royal guard, but had dealt with them easily, contacting Glaz after one of them had let slip that his location was known as well. They’d feared him dead after he’d warned them of the wraith.
 Gradually over the next few days, he sorted through the more mundane information. Doc popped in every now and again only to be quickly chased out by his overly protective squadmates. He’d gradually gained back the ability to sit up in bed by himself as well as move his arms without great difficulty. During this time, he’d found out that Fuze had been living here among the other werewolves with permission from their king. Rook was overjoyed to be back among his pack and was currently fulfilling other obligations. Glaz could tell that the three were glossing over something, but let it be in favor of simply enjoying their company.
 After finally building up the courage to ask, Glaz found, much to his relief, the wraith had miraculously been vanquished, unable to face down both Blitz and Bandit after they’d brought about the full might of their magics. The two sustained some injuries, but Bandit refused to allow Doc to treat him, instead opting to return back to his house, fellow sorcerers in tow. Glaz pressed for more information, but that was all his three friends seemed to have.
 It wasn’t until the fourth day that Rook visited, stepping into the room in rather sharp looking outfit, curly hair still untamed but somehow much more dignified now that they were out of the wilds. He’d put on a bit more weight and looked healthier, much to Glaz’s delight. The smile on his face was overwhelmingly bright as his eyes settled on Glaz. In a moment, Rook had rushed forward and thrown his arms around the shapeshifter’s neck, squeezing tightly, fingers causing the fabric against his back to bunch and pull.
 “We’ll wait in the hall”
 As the three filed out, Rook pulled back, settling down on the bed and briefly cupping the sides of Glaz’s face before pulling back and placing them in his lap.
 “I was worried sick about you, you know. That was a stupid stunt and you nearly died.” Rook pouted as his finger played with a string from his sleeve, wrapping and unwrapping it. Glaz smiled softly, placing a hand on Rook’s arm.
 “We both would have died then, you idiot. It worked out though.” Rook snorted. He opened his mouth to say something else before frowning and pausing for a moment, eventually sighing and standing up. Glaz shot him a confused look. “I’m so sorry, but I have a few extra duties that I need to tend to apparently.” Another pause and he rolled his eyes, irritated at whoever he was conversing with but let it go as he faced Glaz, “But we’re finishing this conversation soon!”
 Glaz waved as the young werewolf traded places with three shapeshifters, who were struggling to hide the grins on their faces. Glaz frowned and probed only to be stonewalled while they shared a conspiratorial glance.
 “I see you’ve gotten sweet with the crown prince.” Fuze looked like the cat that got the canary as he divulged his secret, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Tachanka and Kapkan attempted to conceal their grins as Glaz gave them all confused looks.
 “The who?” Fuze nodded fervently. “I…no Rook…oooh.” Glaz blinked, slowly sliding pieces together as he sat back against the head of the bed, but still finding gaps.
 “Alright, if that’s true how’d he end up in the middle of nowhere?”
 “Political prisoner.” And soon Fuze was sharing the memories he’d left out, showing him images of Rook looking absolutely regal, but very bored, in court. When he’d gone missing, the king had assumed he’d gotten wanderlust and had ventured off for a while, as he was prone to do. It wasn’t until a week had passed that a ransom note and proof of a kidnapping had arisen. Evidently the rouge pack that had taken him was convinced that Rook’s family had hidden magical artifacts throughout their region and were demanding the locations and gold in exchange for his return.
 Glaz had to sigh, understanding a bit more about why Rook was so suspicious when he’d mentioned his high borne heritage; after all it’d just gotten him in a load of trouble. He couldn’t imagine what would have happened if he’d been left at their mercy. Fuze assured him that it was definitely the best decision he’d made in recent years.
 “After you were captured, Rook demanded that he be allowed to take his pack out to find you. The King pressured the sorcerers into helping after he found out that they’d allowed him to leave without proper protection.” Fuze’s voice was still slightly smug as he explained.
 “Fuze found out and demanded to go as well. Once you connected, Kapkan and I were able to join as well. You frightened us.” Tachanka’s voice was unusually sullen, finally voicing their shared worries. Glaz ran his hand over his face, headache spiking a bit with the guilt. In helping Rook, he’d nearly exposed his teammates to the wraith, yet found it hard to fully regret his decisions.
 The topic broached, the three expressed their disappointment that Glaz hadn’t shared the memories they’d been shown, but assured him they weren’t angry. Their only regret was that he didn’t have the chance to open up himself about it. Kapkan’s eyes were trained on his face the entire conversation, likely placing missing pieces in that complex mind of his.
 “No need to dwell on it. We’re together now.” Glaz nodded at Kapkan, suddenly feeling very tired.
 The next day, Rook returned bearing a small parcel and a covered plate. Tachanka was the only one in the room at the time, the others out stretching their legs. Upon seeing the werewolf enter, the old bear hauled himself up, nodding to Rook as he let himself out. Rook’s eyes crinkled as his smile encroached on them, pulling up a chair and setting his gifts on Glaz’s lap.
 “I brought you something! Also, cookies, as agreed upon.” Glaz chuckled, pulling the cover off to see a tray laden with still warm cookies. It’d been ages since he’d had one and greedily snagged one, nearly shoving the whole thing into his mouth.
 “Mmm, these are good. I don’t think I’ll be sharing with my squad.” Somewhere in the back of his mind, Kapkan made an indignant remark to which Glaz responded to by eating another cookie. As if it were possible, Rook’s smile seemed to grow larger at seeing him enjoy the treat. Licking his fingers, Glaz set the plate aside and inspected the parcel. Looking closely, he saw that it was wrapped in brown butcher paper carefully held together by ornate twine. Glaz pulled apart the bow and opened up the paper.
 Inside was a leather tunic, dyed deep green and black with maroon red and brown thread work. The left front breast was embroidered with an eagle dark brown standing out just enough over the forest green. Set slightly below and to the right was a small red wolf’s head, matching the ones that were currently displayed across Rook’s clothes.
 “Do you like it? I wasn’t sure if you had a house sigil, but Fuze said that was what you’d used.” Rook bit his lip, search Glaz’s face for any indication of what he was thinking. The shapeshifter rubbed his thumb across the material, taking in all the details being displayed.
 “I love it, thank you.” Rook was delighted, jabbering on more about what some of the symbols woven into it meant. Glaz listened intently, happy to see Rook so at ease. Eventually he had to leave, ensuring Glaz he’d be back the next day.
  True to his word, Rook appeared at the same time every day, staying longer each time and offering a variety of gifts for him and his squad. Eventually the shapeshifters reached the point where they just waited by the door around the scheduled time, smiling at Glaz before slipping out of the room. Bright as ever, Rook filled him in on how everyone was doing, what was going on around the castle, and informing him what was for dinner later that night. He introduced the rest of his pack gradually, starting with Doc who he was finally able to have a conversation with.
 Montagne and Twitch were polite but reserved, seemingly concerned about his intentions toward their young packmate. Evidently Rook the last member of his pack, a werewolf ironically named Lion, currently hated Glaz’s guts for reasons unknown/Rook was unwilling to divulge and was being kept away.
 Fuze slipped in once they’d left, smug grin on his face as he informed him that it had been their job to protect their prince and bonded. “Three guards that are packbonded and they’d still lost track of him.”
 “How’d they pull that off?”
 “Slipped him poison.” Kapkan chimed in. He’d been skulking around in the kitchens and back streets, gathering information about the area as he was want to do. “Turns out your Prince Charming is particularly naïve. Offer him cheese and he’s perfectly happy to trust anyone.”
 On the seven visit, Rook brought only himself. Their conversation went as usual, light in nature and generally upbeat. Rook asked about Glaz and how he was feeling, before settling on a more unusual questions, finally asking, “Has your magic started to return yet?”
 The shapeshifter nodded, summoning a small flame in the palm of his hand with some effort. Rook emulated him, creating a small rock before reaching out and hovering his hand over top of Glaz’s, palm down. The shapeshifter tried to withdraw, afraid of burning the werewolf.
 “It’s alright. I just want to see something.” Frowning, Glaz extended his hand again, allowing Rook to move their palms into the same position, slowly bringing them together so that they were holding hands. Magic ebbed and flowed between them. He could feel Rook’s earth magic tracing up his arm and into his chest, filling him with overwhelming calmness and affection. Rook looked vaguely shocked, smile spreading across his face as he made eye contact.
 “Do you know what this means?” He asked, voice tinged with awe. Glaz’s frown deepened and he shook his head. Rook moved from his chair and onto the bed, still holding tightly onto the other’s hand, “well, it means, it means that…”
 Rook trailed off, leaning in slightly, suddenly tantalizingly close. Glaz searched his eyes, so bright and alive with happiness. He held his breath and closed the gap, lips meeting softly at first before Rook pressed for more, greedily deepening the kiss. Glaz brought his free hand to rest behind Rook’s head, pulling the werewolf in closer. He hummed in happiness and shifted, still pressed against Glaz’s lips, but now straddling him. Rook’s free hand pushed itself under Glaz’s shirt, tracing across his scars before settling on his waist.
 The magic picked up intensity, power now spreading through his chest and out into his limbs, driving him forward as Rook’s hand dipped lower. The needy moan that Glaz let out would have embarrassed him at any other time, but in the moment he could hardly care. They were both breathing heavily, pushing at each other as the magic beat louder and louder in Glaz’s eardrums. A sharp rap of knuckles on the door started them out of their trance, Rook sitting back on Glaz’s knees, breathing heavily, cheeks flushed, and pupils wide. He turned around and glared at the door as the moment was lost. Glaz squeezed his hand tightly before letting go of and allowing him to head to the door. The werewolf stopped in front of it and adjusted his clothing before cracking it open. Whoever it was made Rook sigh and turn back in apology before leaving.
 The next day, there was no appearance from Rook. While Glaz attempted to act nonchalant about the whole thing, he was rather hurt. The shapeshifter had enjoyed their moment, whatever that had been, and had hoped that perhaps it could blossom into something more. The second day rolled around, Glaz languishing in bed, and once again no Rook. Glaz pouted while Fuze kicked back in the corner, making fun of him for being such a helpless romantic. Surprisingly, he had no idea what on earth that ritual had meant, leaving Glaz with only frustration.
 Just as he was getting ready to snap at Fuze, Kapkan slipped into the room, excited look on his face.
 “The castle’s in a tizzy. Glaz, you sly dog…though I shouldn’t give you any credit, you haven’t a clue what you did.” Kapkan approached the bed, Fuze following suit. They waited like that, Glaz probing at Kapkan to get answers, but the trapper refused until Tachanka arrived. When the older man had finally traipsed in, Kapkan encouraged Glaz to show them some of his magic.
 “I don’t know what all the excitement is about. You’re going to be sorely disapp- oh?” The flame that rose up in Glaz’s hand was no surprise. However, hovering just below it was a halo of dirt, pulsing softly as it lazily circled the fire. Kapkan crowed in delight and Tachanka slapped him on the back.
 “The little prince summoned his magic in front of his pack and sent them into a panic. Apparently, fire rose out of the furrows he’d created. Something that wouldn’t happen unless his magic was linked with someone who happened to be adept at fire magic. You should have seen the look on Doc’s face when he found out it worked.” Glaz blinked in confusion, trying to figure out when and where he’d agreed to bonding magics. Tachanka took mercy on him after watching the gears turn for a bit.
 “He’s been courting you, you idiot. You accepted his gifts. We do the same exact thing you, though you’ve never experienced it.” Yes, Tachanka was correct and apparently Rook had checked with them to make sure the rituals were the same. Glaz just hadn’t…he hadn’t expected Rook to be interested. The man was a somebody, heir to the throne and surrounded by people who loved him. Glaz was a glorified forest hobo.
 Tachanka was assuring him they were all aware of the status difference when the door swung open and a very unhappy Montagne stalked in, eyes bright yellow in his anger. Twitch and Doc followed closely, accompanied by another taller red headed man that Glaz hadn’t been introduced to. He figured this was likely Lion judging by his glare.
 “What did you do to Rook?” Montagne stepped forward, eyes focused on Glaz but Tachanka quickly put himself between the two. Twitch snarled, sparks flying as the space between the two closed. “What did you do to manipulate him? Do find it fun to toy with him, hm?” Tachanka let out an irritated rumbled in return, words sparking anger. The two squads stared each other down, tension and magic rising in the room as they each waited for the other to make the first move.
 “Oh my gosh, would you guys stop!” Rook appeared in the doorway, panting heavily and covered in a sheen of sweat. He held up a finger for them to wait while he caught his breath before continuing, “I initiated. You can ask Doc, because I told him my plan and he laughed at me. But I care about Glaz and I think he’s cute, so I courted him and he accepted and now here we are.” Rook’s mouth was running a mile a minute, despite the fact that he still had to take big gasps of air in between. Montagne stepped back slightly, looking to Rook in confusion.
 “At least, I think he accepted?” Glaz looked at his squad before nodding eagerly. “Our magic is compatible, so I’ve made my decision and I’m going to take him out on a proper date once he eventually is able to leave this room.”
 Rook stopped talking and judging from all the glances, glares, and growls whatever conversation was occurring through their bond was not a happy one.
 “He probably should have mentioned it to the others before going through with this.” Kapkan thought, and Glaz couldn’t agree more. Watching this exchange was painful. Montagne had now bodily inserted himself between Lion and Doc and Twitch was still sparking while Rook had a hand on her shoulder.
 “I wish I would have known this was going to happen. I would have grabbed some popcorn from the kitchens.” Fuze griped. Eventually they seemed to work it out, departing the room, Lion throwing one more suspicious glance over his shoulder. Rook asked for a minute with Glaz and his squad reluctantly complied. “We’ll be just outside,” came across in unison
 “I’m sorry you had to deal with that. They really are wonderful, they’re just a bit overprotective. Lion was under the impression that this was the terms of our agreement for you saving me.” Glaz smiled softly and beckoned him over, rising from the bed unsteadily. He’d been practicing walking, but he wobbled and Rook caught him by the elbow, scanning his face for discomfort. Glaz knew he was still very unsteady, but Rook was close and smelled of fresh bread and sunshine. The younger man was more than capable of supporting him, so Glaz leaned his weight against him slightly as he bent his head down for a kiss. He could feel Rook smile against his lips, hands holding his waste to provide support. It wasn’t as long or as passionate as their first kiss had been, when they drew back, neither was desperately panting and wanting more, but somehow it was enough
 Glaz placed as soft kiss against Rook’s forehead, “Fuze was right. Saving you really was the best decision I’ve made in years, maybe ever. No regrets” Rook smiled pulling him into a tight hug before settling him back on the bed. The werewolf launched into a variety of date options and place they should see, things to eat now that he was out of the woods, assuring him that his pack would come around eventually.
 “Oh, you still haven’t met my father!” Glaz felt his heart plummet as Tachanka laughed heartily outside. Alright, perhaps one regret.
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Leopold “Butters” Stotch
hi! i think i’ve worked out that i’ve reached the activity limit with my overall replies & discord rp-ing (16 replies overall) but, if not, I’m happy to leave this in your inbox until it’s ready x
out of character info
Name/Alias: Grace Pronouns: She/Her Age: 23 Join Our Discord: Yes – already in x Timezone: GMT Activity: 8 Triggers: N/A Password: Jimmy can fast pass my ass Character that you’re applying for: Leopold “Butters” Stotch Favourite ships for your character: Butters/Kenny, Butters/Eric, Butters/Chemistry
in character info (heavy trigger warning for parental abuse and neglect throughout !!)
Full name: Leopold “Butters” Stotch Birthday: 11th September 2000 Sexuality, gender, pronouns: bisexual, male, he/him  Age and grade: 17, senior.
Appearance: 
Butters is cursed with eternal baby-face: chubby cheeks and big blue eyes. Even his hair is as soft and fluffy as the day he was born, with his parents making sure that he never deviates from his short-back-and-sides style by cutting it themselves every Sunday evening. That’s not the only thing that hasn’t changed; his clothing style is as sweet and standard as his middle school days – boot-cut jeans, comfortable sneakers and the teal fleece his mom bought for his 15th birthday (he’s barely grown, since). Sometimes, Butters will experiment with a graphic-tee, his favourite being his array of Hello Kitty Island Adventure merchandise, or bright coloured polo. 
Butters stands at just under average height and just over average weight, with a cute bit of chub on his belly that he doesn’t think will ever go (he’s banned from visiting the gym after his dad’s bathhouse escapades). One time, his mom threatened to fatten him up so much that he’d never be able to leave, and he’s never been able to budge the extra weight, since. He doesn’t mind, though: he’s as body positive as can be, and thinks that anyone who don’t think he’s handsome ain’t looking hard enough.
Personality: 
Butters is a mess, frankly, though he thinks he’s just an ordinary fella living life as anyone should: by being kind and helping others. He’s dangerously gullible and painstakingly naïve, with a generous soul even after everything he’s been through. He just wants to do right by the world, especially his friends. He has a strong sense of justice, though this can be easily manipulated to the point where he’ll believe that what’s wrong is right and what’s right is wrong. Despite often being misguided, he’ll stick by his guns and stay true to himself when the time comes. He’s got better at standing up for himself as he’s got older, too, and isn’t afraid to put his foot down and say heck no if necessary. Most days, he's very confident in his own skills and self-image, but that can all change with one comment. 
His disrespect for authority is an interesting personality trait. He’ll fudge the police and tell his teachers to go suck a popsicle, but there’s two people he can’t say no to. Butters has been gaslighted his entire life, and the emotional and physical abuse he receives from his parents has led to humiliating and childlike obedience (what 18-year-old accepts being grounded for using twitter after 9pm?). When he’s caught doing wrong by his parents, all his self-confidence and cowboy-like bravado is shot to smithereens: he’s just a no good miscreant who ain’t gonna amount to nothin’, so he may as well give up on his dreams and stick to bein’ a plain ol’ nobody.
History:
Butters was born to Linda and Stephen Stotch on 11th September 2000. Ever since that fateful day, his life has been nothing but chaos and control and, though he wakes up to the sound of his own screams every night, he’s grateful for every opportunity he gets. It would be impossible to write all of his ups and downs in a couple of paragraphs, but there are two things that have really shaped Butters as a person.
One: his family. Stephen Stotch uses fear to control his son whilst his mom, Linda, is dangerously protective. Though seventeen, Butters still calls his dad ‘sir’ to his face and does what he’s told or faces severe consequences. The night that his mom asked him to stalk his father to the bathhouse changed a lot of things; he saw the internalised secrets and lies that have corrupted both of his parents and has watched them wear white-picket-fence masks in public every damn day since. He saw his dad embrace his sexuality yet treat it as a sin. He experienced his mom, breaking down, vulnerable and distressed, ready to kill her own son. Not to mention the time he was sold to Paris Hilton as a pet. Linda and Stephen Stotch are manipulative and controlling parents whose ‘love’ of their son, however much they fret over him and cover him with kisses, will never make up for the trauma instilled in him.
Two: his friends. Scrotie McBoogerballs, AWESOME-O, Good Times with Weapons, Marjorine, Casa Bonita. The list of shenanigans that Butters been apart of, and victim of, is endless. He’s been locked in a fridge, publicly shamed on television and stabbed in the eye with a shuriken, yet he still hangs out with these guys. Why? Because he was never part of the gang in kindergarten, and he’s never really had a true friend, someone who has made the effort to see what he’s been through and respect him regardless. Besides, hanging with these guys (whatever injuries and humiliation they bring to him) has given him a strength he never knew he had. He’s become a pimp, rekindled his confidence to dance, got his wiener out at school, become a best-selling novelist and, best of all, learned to say no to Eric Cartman. Not bad for a good-for-nothin’.
  Sample paragraph: (At least two paragraphs, centred around your character)
For the first time in a long time, Butter’s internal sludge pile of shame and humiliation is joined by anger. He’s so gosh darn mad that he don’t care who knows it, but no-one is gonna know it, ‘cause he got no cell, no internet, and no hope’a gettin’ outta his stupid ol’ room. It’s the same ol’ story: Eric and the fellas convinced him to get a fake ID so they could get some sorta fancy alcohol for Bebe’s party tonight. Kyle said it had to be him, ‘cause he looks the oldest, and he’s the best actor outta all of ‘em. Butters ain’t sure if that’s true, but he appreciated the compliment, and it’s a bad pal that says no to a favour, especially when the entire party rested on his hands.
He got the booze, alright. And he was nice and proud of himself, until Eric said it was the wrong one. Ain’t no one wants to drink this kindergarten crap, Eric said, we’re men now, we gotta drink whiskey. Well, Butters thinks whiskey tastes like butt, and ain’t no one wants to taste butt, ‘cept maybe Kenny. He thought the blue an’ pink bottles looked cute and bubblegum is his favourite flavour, no doubt about it, but maybe he should’a followed the plan and done what he was told. Darn it all.
He was in trouble with the guys, but at least he weren’t in trouble with his mom and dad, and that meant he’d finally be able to go to a real life party, maybe show off his dancin’ skills and eat some cheese and pineapple sticks. But then they found his fake idea when doin’ their routine search’a his room, and all hell broke loose. You ain’t goin’ anwhere today, mister, they said, you’re gonna sit right here on your tushie an’ think about the consequences of identity fraud. I’m goin’ to that party, Buttons said, puttin’ his foot down. Well, that  just about earned a slap around the noggin and a week without his cell, so he couldn’t even tell the fellas he weren’t comin’ tonight.
A knock on his window jolts him outta his angry pacing. He doesn’t want to look up, ‘cause he knows it’s probably Eric, comin’ over just to make fun of his current predicament and boast all about how much fun he’s gonna have tonight. Well Butters weren’t gonna have it, no sir-ee. He puts his hands on his hips and he gets ready to march right over there and give Eric a proper telling to, but then he sees it ain’t Eric, it’s Kenny, an’ he got a proper determined look on his face.
“We’re breaking you out,” Kenny says, an’ Butters ain’t gonna argue this time.
Headcanons: 
Butters still plays Hello Kitty Island Adventures, but he’s also a massive animal crossing fan. Any game that lets him escape his house, have some independence, and talk to (or raise) cute animals can keep him hooked for hours. Unfortunately, his mom and dad turn the internet off at 9pm and keep his phone in their bedroom at night. 
Butters keeps his sexuality a secret from his parents, and it’s no surprise why. After his mom found out about his dad’s trip to the bathhouse (subsequently attempting to murder her son) and after a gruelling (and very confusing) trip to conversion camp, Butters thought it best to hide any ‘abnormal’ feelings. Fortunately, his friends and their often open sexualities has made him feel comfortable and confident with himself, and he’s resoundingly grateful for it.
He is quietly considering his gender and what it means to be Butters. At the moment, he doesn’t think he needs to put a name to it, but it doesn’t hurt to research, and he’s ecstatic to see he isn’t the only one who doesn’t sit on one end of the binary. Though exploring the possibility of being non-binary, he’s happy to be referred to by male pronouns for now.
Butters wants to be a pre-school teacher, even after what happened to Ms. Claridge. He loves drawing and storytelling and wants to share those gifts to others, helping kids who might not be happy at home.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t think his mum will let him go as far as college without having a breakdown or threatening something real bad. Though his parents have started to treat him a little better as he’s got older, their distrust of the world around them, and of their son, has grown rapidly.
Butters works part-time at the ice cream parlour and adds something special to every sale. Most of the time he uses the wafers and chocolate chips to make little teddy bears, but his extra special treat (for people he really likes) is the unicorn uni-cone with lots of sparkles.
Butters is a wonderful artist! He loves using watercolour pencils and paint the best and though his work isn’t always the most profound (it’s usually portraits of his friends or cute animals he sees), it's always beautifully coloured and full of love.  
Anything else: thank u guys 4 the opportunity
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sunokasai · 6 years
Text
On the Crossroads of Love - Chapter 5
[backlog refilled with 1 chapter - big thank you @icaruswings87 for editing again <3]
Sometimes their trip does not go as planned. Sometimes the itinerary doesn’t matter, because sometimes the two women decide to stop somewhere in the middle of the road because one of them spots something interesting or beautiful. And sometimes it is Mari stopping without giving any warning while poor Riko is busy looking through all of her photos. They are on the way to Germany when this happens
Surprised and even scolding Mari a little for pulling such a stunt while she was handling her camera, Riko finds her ire fading quickly as she realizes why Mari had stopped the car. Interest flares inside of Riko in an instant as she and Mari stare at the ad for an Aquarium that’s not too far from their current location.
The Aquarium d'Amnéville.
A quick search via the internet fuels their interest even more, learning how much there is to discover, solidifies Mari’s decision to stop. Maybe, just maybe, this Aquarium can match the one in Awashima. Both girls doubt it, but it is worth a shot.
So, a couple minutes later they find themselves surrounded by massive tanks full of crystal blue water and dozens, if not hundreds, of different species that live within. It’s different than the one at home, but  at least Awashima and this aquarium have something in common right from the start: both know how to present the jellyfish properly - because here they are also lit up by beautiful colors.
Eventually they come across a tank with some really special inhabitants: isopods. Riko chuckles as she takes them in, causing Mari to look at her with hint of confusion.
“You don’t remember?” Riko asks, prompting Mari to shake her head ‘no’. “When we were all visiting the aquarium on Awashima and how Hanamaru-chan fell in love with the isopods there? I bet she would like these here as well. There are so many.”
“Ah! I remember!” Mari exclaims excitedly. Yes, she does. And she also remembers how cute Hanamaru had looked, crouching down and talking with those little guys. So, Mari does the same, greeting the French isopods in the name of their Japanese friends in Awashima and the human that came to adore isopods. It is kind of adorable, Riko thinks.
“Riko‘cchi! Riko‘cchi! Look! Lots of Nemos!“ Mari, suddenly exclaims, getting up as she spots something else she deems interesting right across the room. She unceremoniously grabs Riko’s hand and drags her to the display. The movement is so sudden that Riko doesn’t even have time to process the hand in hers. Or to blush.
But once they are there, standing right before the glass, Riko perks an eyebrow up in confusion as she looks at Mari and then at the fish in front of them.
“Nemos?” Several orange-white striped fish are swimming around, some bigger than others. Riko has to admit that they look quite pretty, maybe cute even. “I am pretty sure they aren’t called ‘Nemos’. They have a different name..”
She is already leaning to the side to take a look at the species’ proper name, not noticing the look Mari throws at her: utter disbelief.
“See they are called- what?” Riko backs away with her head a little upon finally noticing Mari’s expression. There is a bad feeling starting to form in her stomach. Did she do something wrong?
“You really don’t know?” Mari asks, voice barely above a whisper.
“Know what?” Yeah, the knot in her stomach definitely gets worse.
“You have never seen the movie called ‘Finding Nemo’?”
Riko has to blink as she tries to process this information. All of this because of a movie? This is why Mari looks at her like this? While she is glad that it is just a movie and not something she has done, it is the fact that it is just a movie that makes her sigh.
“No? Obviously I didn’t.”
“We need to change that!” Mari declares, a sparkle in her eyes. “Which means we will have a movie night soon. The next hotel we are in I am going to look the movie up with your laptop and then we will watch it. Deal?”
Not knowing what all of this is about or how some fish are connected to a movie, Riko just nods. If this means she will get to spend more time with Mari then she’ll gladly agree. And a part of her hopes that they even get to cuddle a little while watching.
...And she can feel her cheeks getting hot at that thought.
“And while we are at it...” Mari takes her hand once again and drags her to the next glass pane, this time with a blue fish in it. “We can watch ‘Finding Dory’ right after.”
“Sure. We can do that. Sounds like fun.” The smile that Riko gets in return has her heart melt a little. It is scary how easily she can feel happy with Mari around, because whenever Mari smiles like that her heart makes a little jump and Riko is so much more at ease. Even if that smile is not directed at her.
“Okay, sweet. So… what else does this Aquarium have to offer?”
They walk around aimlessly but Riko notices quite fast that Mari seems to be looking for something specific, even if all the other stuff here manages to excite her. It shows in the way she looks around when they go to the next attraction.
And when they finally come across some sort of map Riko sees her hunch confirmed as Mari’s shoulders slump ever so slightly. Barely noticeable to any onlooker, but it is very much noticed by Riko.
“Something specific you are looking for?” She asks innocently, as if she doesn’t know the answer already.
“Yes...” Mari pouts a little. “I was hoping they’d have some seals here but they have none...”
“Seals?”
“Yes. They are like the cutest thing on this planet. If they look at you with their big round eyes and their chubby nose… how can you not just melt on the spot?”
Smiling fondly, Riko watches as Mari starts to daydream just a little about seals. Of all the  animals, she would have never guessed it would be seals that managed to capture Mari’s heart. But it seems like they have and Riko feels kind of sorry that there are none of them here.
“If you are looking for seals you should visit the zoo that is right beside the aquarium.”
Riko and Mari turn around to look at another tourist right behind them who is waiting on the rest of his family to catch up with him after they had gotten distracted by some fish called green swordtail a couple meters away.
“Here, look.” The man comes over to them and shows them a brochure. And indeed, there is the aquarium and there is the zoo. He even shows them a timetable and Mari pokes Riko in her side and her arms and it is a bit annoying until Riko shoves Mari a little and looks at her, silently asking what is up.
“They have a seal show there.” Mari squeals. And Riko already knows what Mari’s next request will be.
“They were soooooo cute!” Mari, obviously, is super happy after they had just watched the seal show, always pointing out one of the animals. And at some point Mari had even started giving them names. “Though, I think Alfio is the cutest of them all.”
Riko hums and nods along. She is listening, she just doesn’t know who out of the dozens seals they had just seen was Alfio.
“Like, this cute little spot on his forehead.” Ah, that one. “I wish I could’ve pet him right there.”
Then Mari stops and looks at Riko, a very familiar spark in her eyes. One that Riko recognizes means trouble. And with Mari, there is no telling what kind of trouble she’s going to drag her into this time.
“Mari, no.” She has to stop it before it begins. Otherwise Mari will get a stupid ide-
“Do you think they’ll let me keep him? And all his brothers and sisters?”
“Mari, no. They won’t. And besides… where would you even keep them?”
“I am rich, I can probably turn a room in the Awashima Hotel to suit their needs.” Is the immediate retort.
And just as Riko wants to protest and say no, she thinks that Mari probably would be able to pull this of. Which doesn’t change the fact that Mari shouldn’t even think about it at all.
“They still belong to the zoo, Mari. We can’t just take them with us.” Riko tries to be reasonable.
“But I already gave them names matching their personalities.” Mari pouts. And she knows what effect that pout has on Riko.
Riko has to stay strong.
“I… Mari, we have no room in the car, and we certainly don’t have the time for you to organize something like that - it would take too long. And they still belong to the zoo.” And if rationale doesn’t work, Riko might as well try something else. “And imagine all the children who were just as excited to see them as you. They’d be sad if the seals were gone all of a sudden.”
Mari pouts more but she nods weakly. She gets it, of course. She just wishes she could spend some time with them, pet them even.
“You’re right. Sorry for bringing it up.” Mari turns away, running her hand through her hair. “Come on, let’s go and see the rest before we continue driving.”
“Mari...” Riko is fast to catch up with her companion when she sees it out of the corner of her eyes. The wheels start turning in her head as she gets an idea that might be ridiculous. But if it manages to cheer Mari back up it was worth it. So, she reaches for Mari’s arms and stops her, telling her to wait for her at that corner while she gets something.
And she really gets something. Because as soon as Riko returns to Mari’s side, she tells her to stick out her right arm. And as Mari turns around to do just that, her eyes widen.
Right there in front of her is Riko, tying a bunch of balloons in the shape of seals to her wrist. And before Mari can ask what this means, Riko pulls one of the balloons down, takes a pen out and draws a circle right on the seal’s forehead.
“There. Just like Alfio.” Riko smiles, looking at her work.
Mari lacks the words of a response as she just stares at the dozen balloons on her arm. She would have never expected something like this and is more than just surprised. She even sniffs a little before she gives Riko her brightest smile, pulling at Riko’s hand to bring her in for a hug. It is a little sudden but afterwards Riko relaxes into the hug little by little. It is Mari, after all. And a hug from Mari is the best response possible. Perhaps the best thing possible, ever. She smiles into her friend’s shoulder.
“Thank you, Riko’cchi.”
And as Riko just nods, she thinks she’d probably do anything for Mari.
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captain-zajjy · 6 years
Text
Solstice, Chapter 26 - A Final Fantasy XV Story
Pairing: Ignis x Female Original Character
AO3 | Chapter 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25
A/N:This chapter is (relatively) shorter than the last few and sweet. I hope you enjoy it :3
Ignis, Valeria and Prompto had crammed into the back of a Hunter’s car and began the drive back to Lestallum proper. Gladiolus had seemed in better spirits before they left, but elected to stay behind for another day with Iris to hunt down any daemons remaining in the vicinity of the new settlement.
Prompto was as fidgety as ever, and between them Valeria sat, dozing with her head on Ignis’s shoulder. He knew she hadn’t slept at all after the daemon attack, in spite of him holding her close and assuring her she was safe. But why would she feel safe with him? He could barely defend himself.
Quiet, you, he said to that pesky voice in his head. He was no good to anyone if he doubted himself.
Ignis had barely slept himself, the horror story Valeria had told him playing on repeat in his mind. He knew it was dangerous outside the city, but he now realized just how very little he truly understood the enormity of it, the primal terror. I won’t let it happen again. He may have barely been able to fight worth a damn, but he would keep her safe. Somehow.
Quelling a sigh, Ignis turned toward the window. He couldn’t see out of it, of course - only tell that it was impossibly dark, filled with nothing but monsters and the dead. A small, selfish part of him was relieved he didn’t have to look at it - hearing the stories, the screams, was illustrative enough.
Next to them, Prompto sounded like he was rifling through his bag. Then there was the unmistakable sound of his camera shutter clicking, and Ignis felt compelled to open his mouth.
“Not now, Prompto,” he said. “Please.”
“Heh...” Prompto let out a breathy laugh, like a child caught drawing on the walls. “Uh... How’d you know I wasn’t taking a shot outside?”
“Because there’s nothing to photograph outside.”
Prompto gave a weary sigh. “That’s for sure. How long do you really think we can go on like this?”
Ignis would have shrugged, but he didn’t want to wake Valeria. “As long as we have to, I suppose.”
“Noct’s gonna come back.” Prompto sounded like he was talking to himself. “And then everything’s gonna be like it was.”
If only it were that simple. Ignis didn’t have the heart to disabuse Prompto of his hope. Noctis would return, and together, they would bring back the Dawn - Ignis was every bit as certain of that as Prompto - but things would never be as they were.
For starters, his eyesight wasn’t coming back. Ignis pushed that particular thought away, not wanting to dwell on it. It wasn’t like it was all bad. The Empire was crumbling; that was problematic in the short-term, but in the grand scheme of things, it meant people no longer had to live in fear of their aggressive expansion and frightening technology. In the best case, Magitek would become a historical footnote, a cautionary tale of ambition and hubris.
And then there was her. Ignis knew he would have his hands full advising a new, young King, but after having Valeria around for the better part of several months, he knew he couldn’t just go back to how it was - keeping their distance, words unsaid, feelings pushed aside. He needed this, needed her, in a way that was startling, bewildering, and exhilarating.
Perhaps she could take a position within the Citadel. The new King would need to appoint his own Council filled with Lucian citizens of varying areas of expertise. And though she may have been young, Valeria’s business acumen was second to none.
Of course, Valeria might not even want to work for the Crown. The first time Noctis yawned during an important meeting, things would get very dark indeed. Ignis recalled how she used to call out fellow students whenever they would fall asleep or act disruptive during class, and it was in such a sharp, witty manner that he had to bury his head in one of his books to conceal his laughter. The memory made him chuckle even now.
“You look happy,” Prompto said. Then his voice turned sing-songy. “I bet I know why...”
The mere insinuation that Ignis would be intimate with her in the back of a stranger’s truck, like some rest stop harlot, caused him to roll his right eye, which caused an aching pain in his left. He’d noticed that happening whenever he made some quick or sharp movement on his right, like his left side was trying to mirror the movement in spite of all the damage and scar tissue.
Ignis tried to disguise massaging the pain away by fiddling with his sunglasses. “Prompto, you and I both know that you know very little.”
“Huh?”
My point exactly. “In other words, mind your own affairs.”
“Oh.” Prompto laughed, but cut it off when the car began to slow down.
“What is it?” Ignis asked.
“Looks like...a truck tipped over in the middle of the road,” Prompto explained. “We should still be able to get around it.”
But the car rolled to a stop. “We’re gonna check out the cargo,” one of the Hunters in the front said.
“Might as well,” Prompto said, opening his door. “And we should check on the driver. You coming?”
Ignis shook his head. His legs, wedged against the back of the passenger seat, were beginning to cramp and the bumps and bruises he'd received in the battle the night prior throbbed in earnest, but he couldn’t imagine he’d be much help with the search. And he didn’t want to disturb Valeria.
Prompto shut his door gently, but the driver and his partner slammed theirs closed, waking her anyway.
“What...?” Her voice was groggy with sleep. “Why did we stop?”
“Just a quick search of an overturned truck.” They’d left the engine running, and Ignis was fairly certain the headlights were still on, so he wasn’t particularly concerned for their safety, but he rolled down the window to keep an ear out, just in case.
“With any luck, there will be a large shipment of Ebony inside.” He smiled, hoping to keep her calm.
“Ebony would be nice.” Valeria’s tone was even, but the tensing of her muscles betrayed her true feelings. He could tell the detour had put her on edge, and could tell she didn’t want him to know. Why was she so keen on hiding her fear? After what she’d been through, he would have been far more concerned if she weren’t afraid.
“Regardless, we’ll have some coffee when we get back.” Ignis patted her knee.
Without a word, Prompto opened the door and climbed back inside. In fact, Ignis only knew it was Prompto because he was so much smaller than the two Hunters who accompanied them.
“Any sign of the driver?” Ignis asked.
“Yeah.” Prompto exhaled sharply. “The bottom half of him was still buckled in the driver’s seat.”
“Bloody hell,” Ignis muttered. He thought such an announcement would have sent Valeria into a tailspin, but she remained quiet at his side. Just what sort of horrors had she seen for such a thing to barely elicit a reaction from her?
“Prompto, are you alright?” Ignis asked.
“I think I would like to go home now,” Prompto replied, his voice uncharacteristically quiet and small.
“Indeed.” Ignis turned and poked his head out of the window. “Lads?” he called out. “Perhaps we should get back on the road? We don’t want the Marshal to send out a search party.”
One of the Hunters replied that they were on their way, and much to everyone’s relief, after depositing a few items in the trunk, the car was back on the road, leaving the truck and its unfortunate driver behind.
Valeria didn’t fall back asleep, but she did seem to relax once they were moving. The rest of the drive passed without incident until they neared the tunnel that lead into Lestallum. EXINERIS had erected a gate at the city-facing end of the tunnel, initially just to keep daemons out, but these days it functioned more like an immigration stopgap, letting only Lucians pass through. The remaining length of the tunnel had become the refugee camp for those unable to get in the city - relatively safe from daemons, but no proper way to live.
As the car slowed to a crawl, Ignis and the others locked the doors and ensured the windows were rolled up tight. Almost immediately the shouts and insults started, from pleas to help the sick, young or injured get inside, to downright filthy, despicable curses. Can’t you fools see there’s a lady in the vehicle?
“Gods damned Niffs,” the driver muttered as he laid on the horn. Prompto had gone so still and so quiet Ignis could no longer tell he was there.
“It’s a lot worse than it was yesterday,” Valeria said.
“I suspect they take more issue with people getting in the city as opposed to leaving it,” Ignis said.
Then things began to hit the car along with the angry words. Thumps and bumps along the body of the vehicle and stuff going splat against the windows and windshield. Nothing sounded substantial enough to cause any real damage, but that didn’t make it any less troubling. The sooner they got through this mess, the better.
Valeria gasped. “Is that...?” She made a noise of abject disgust.
Ignis was about to ask her what she was talking about, but then he smelled it. The unmistakable stink of excrement. He sincerely hoped it had come from someone’s pet.
“Fucking animals,” the Hunter in the passenger seat cursed. This is what happens when you treat people like they’re subhuman. Ignis only hoped that things would improve for everyone once they moved the refugees to the Fort; otherwise it seemed likely that serious violence would erupt if things carried on as they were much longer.
“ID’s,” the man in the passenger seat barked. Ignis removed his from his pocket and handed it to Valeria, who passed their things forward.
After making it through the veritable gauntlet and finally reaching the gate, the driver presented their documents to the guards - the man didn’t roll down the window, so Ignis thought he must have simply pressed their identification against the glass.
“Pop the trunk,” the guard demanded, his voice slightly muffled.
“What?” the driver opened the window a crack, letting in the nauseating stink of hundreds of people living crammed in a tunnel with no sanitation. Ignis quickly removed his handkerchief from his pocket and gave it to Valeria to cover her face; he covered his own nose and mouth with the sleeve of his jacket.
“Pop the trunk,” the guard said again. He sounded neither friendly nor patient.
“What the hell is this?” the driver growled.
“Just do it so we can get out of here,” the other Hunter said.
The driver finally complied with a grumble, and Ignis assumed that the guards were checking for stowaways as he heard several people rooting around in the back of the car.
“Hey!” the passenger shouted, rolling down his window. “That’s our stuff!”
Ignis frowned as Valeria twisted in her seat. “I think they’re confiscating the cargo from the trunk,” she said to him.
“Now, we got two Crownsguard back here,” the driver said to the guards. Ignis wasn’t sure that was going to help their case. “Ya’ll can’t just take whatever you please.”
“Actually, we can,” the guard said matter-of-factly. “New mandate from on high. You got a problem with it, you can take it up with the bosses.” EXINERIS. Given what they had just driven through, allowing them to loot was probably the only way to keep any of the guardsmen from flat out quitting their posts.
“Hey.” Valeria leaned forward toward the front of the car. “EXINERIS sent me out there. We’re working with them too.”
“Then you shouldn’t have any problems complaining to ‘em. Go on through.”
The gate jerked open with an angry whine, and the shouts of the refugees behind them redoubled. The Hunters let out a string of curses, but fortunately did as instructed and drove through the gate before one of the guards got annoyed and shut it on them.
The streets inside the city were choked with people too, but they moved aside with minimal prodding for a car, particularly one covered in filth. When they arrived at Hunter HQ, Valeria advised Ignis not to touch the door as they exited the vehicle; apparently she kicked it shut and then scuffed the sole of her shoe on the pavement to remove anything it might have touched. The Hunters returned their identification documents and left without so much as a goodbye, probably heading directly to the Marshal to complain. What a bloody mess, Ignis thought.
“Join us for dinner tonight, Prompto,” he said. Prompto hadn’t uttered a word since they’d entered that tunnel. Ignis understood what was bothering him, of course, but could hardly discuss it in front of Valeria and the others.
“Oh, uh...” Prompto shuffled his feet.
“Come, now,” Ignis implored. “I need you to explain to Valeria here that I used to be able to do a lot better than burnt steak.”
“Oh my Gods, Iggy.” Valeria made an exasperated noise. “It wasn’t even burnt, Prompto. It was slightly overdone, and he was acting like it was ruined.”
“If the meat’s overdone, the meal is ruined,” Ignis explained. Why was this such a hard concept to grasp?
“See, this is why you need to come to dinner,” Valeria said to Prompto. “To tell Iggy that he’s being ridiculous.”
“Ah, well...” In spite of himself, Prompto chuckled. “I guess I can’t say no, can I?”
“No, you can’t,” Ignis said, already taking mental inventory of what ingredients he had at home and what he could make that wouldn’t end in a complete disaster.
After returning from Fort Vaullerey, Valeria submitted her calculations to Silvia Fontaine and, much to her relief, EXINERIS sent their own people (under the Hunters’ protection) to work on extending the power lines to the new settlement. Aside from their continued supervision of the citywide rationing to ensure that everyone was fed, Ignis and Valeria found themselves with a wealth of free time, something neither of them really knew what to do with.
And, given the state of Lestallum and the outside world, it wasn’t as if the city was teeming with a plethora of social activities either. Most afternoons, they sat in Ignis’s apartment, listening to repeats of radio serials they must have already heard at least half a dozen times.
“I don’t mean to sound unappreciative,” Ignis said from where he sat on the couch, long legs stretched out in front of him. “But I do wish the person running this station would find some new material.”
“There’s always your radio show.” Valeria sat behind him at the kitchen table, staring down at the pack of playing cards she’d picked up secondhand in the market.
Ignis snorted. “Hardly.”
Valeria pulled a single card from the pack, turning it every which way in her hands, trying to determine some way of making the suit and face discernible to Ignis’s fingertips without making that information visible to his opponent. Cheating took all the fun out of a good card game, after all.
She sighed and returned the card to the deck. “Is this what it’s like to be bored?”
“Bloody awful, isn’t it?” Ignis rubbed a hand over his face. “Once, I was forced to stand by while Noct played pinball at a rest stop for four hours. I am eternally grateful that the establishment’s owner forced us to leave.”
Valeria tucked the card pack into her pants pocket, then crossed the small space to join Ignis on the couch. He had two fingers beneath his sunglasses, massaging his badly-scarred left eye.
“Does it hurt?”
He quickly pulled his hand away. “Ah. It’s nothing.”
Valeria frowned and repeated her question. “Does it hurt?”
Ignis sighed and resumed rubbing his face. “From time to time. Please...please don’t fuss.”
Valeria crossed her arms and sat down, shifting toward him. “I’m not going to ‘fuss.’ I just want to know if there’s anything I can do.”
“Don't trouble yourself. It will pass.” Ignis gave her a wan smile. “At any rate, the pain is nothing like it was.”
Valeria exhaled. “I can’t imagine,” she whispered. “It hurt so badly when my eye-” She stopped herself with a small gasp and a hand over her mouth. He doesn’t need to know about that.  
But it was too late. Ignis straightened in his seat, his hand immediately dropping away from his face. “What? What happened to your eye?”
She briefly contemplated a lie, but she didn’t want to be dishonest with Ignis, even when she knew the truth was going to upset him.
“I, um... It’s fine, now. But, there was an Imperial officer who, uh...interrogated me, and...” She grabbed Ignis’s hand, placing his fingers along the small, slender line that sat across her cheekbone beneath her right eye. It was a fraction of the depth of even the least of his scars, but she saw his eyebrows shoot up above his glasses and felt his fingers freeze on her cheek.
“They...they assaulted you. Why... When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Valeria grimaced, knowing he could feel it with his hand on her face. “It happened when you were in Altissia,” she said. “Then you were hurt, and the Prince was ill, and... I don’t know. It just didn’t come up after.”
He looked every bit as upset as she had expected. Ignis, who had been blinded by the Empire, had his chest heaving and his fist curled because the Niffs had smacked her around a bit.
“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry. Noct was playing bloody pinball while you were being hurt, and I...I...”
Valeria grabbed his face with both her hands. “Stop it. Just stop it, Iggy. You were doing your job.”
Ignis leaned into her palms. “I cannot countenance someone laying their hands upon you. I can’t.”
As she looked at him, saying these terribly valiant things, Valeria felt her chest swell, her heart flutter. “It’s okay now, Iggy,” she said, gently running her fingers over the scar bisecting the bridge of his nose. “Everything’s okay now.”
Ignis sucked in a ragged breath. His hand, slightly trembling, reached up and doffed his dark glasses, giving Valeria her first good look at his face since he’d been injured. Rather than scrutinize it, force him to sit in agonizing silence while she stared, she immediately pulled him into a tight hug. What he looked like didn’t matter. But that he felt safe enough to share that with her - that meant everything.
She held him until he stopped shaking, until that initial wave of self-consciousness had passed. Then she sat back as Ignis kept a hand on her shoulder, their knees still touching.
Only his right eye was open, the sea green of his iris now covered by a haze of blue-gray. It reminded her of the layer of morning frost that used to gather on her apartment bedroom window during the winter; if only she could reach up and wipe it away.
Valeria raised a hand to touch the large, dark, splatter-like scar over his left eye, but stopped herself, remembering that it was hurting him. “You can’t open it?” she asked.
“It’s difficult,” Ignis admitted. “And frankly, not worth the effort. I... I realize it must look odd.”
“No.” Valeria shook her head vehemently. “No, that’s not why... I was just asking.”
“I know.” The sadness of his smile made Valeria think he didn’t entirely believe her. How could she make him understand? Nothing had changed. He was still the man to whom she compared all others. His bravery in the face of suffering had only made him more in her mind, not less.
“Ignis,” she said. “It’s your badge of honor. Wear it with pride.”
Ignis pulled her close once more, his forehead resting against hers. She felt his breath, thick and panting against her face, and for a moment she worried he was going to be upset again, but he just stayed there like that, like he was drinking in her presence.
Valeria knew her heart was racing, felt her own breathing hitch at their closeness. The gulf that had always existed between them had narrowed to a crevice, a crack in the pavement, and all she had to do was step over it.
She kissed him.
It was quick, the briefest brushing of her lips against his, but Valeria immediately jerked away, hand over her mouth.
You’re weak.
You need to find a man with a good family name.
Romance is a waste of time.
“Oh, Gods, Iggy...” Valeria said through her fingers. Her cheeks felt as if they were melting. “I’m sorry, I-I-I...”
Ignis’s lips parted in surprise, then spread to form a broad smile. “I suppose that, at least this time, you didn’t run away.”
“Oh, Gods...” Valeria buried her entire face in her hands. She had done this once before, kissed him on the stoop of her mother’s townhouse after he had taken her out for dessert for her eighteenth birthday, his apology for being forced to miss her party. Before that, she had never kissed a boy. And after, well...none of them were Ignis.
“I ran up to my room and hid under the covers,” Valeria said, still feeling horribly embarrassed and afraid, and most of all, frustrated with herself for being so irrational.
“Did you think a monster was going to emerge from your closet and punish you?” Ignis asked. He was grinning at her now.
“You don’t know how scary my mom was.” She bit her lip. “Is...is this alright?”
“Does it feel alright to you? You,” Ignis added. “Not anyone else.”
Valeria swallowed. “Yes, I... This is...this is what I want.”
Ignis’s free hand roamed up to her face, gently urging her hands away. His thumb traced the gentle swell of her lips.
“And I...” He stopped, swallowed, took a deep breath, then began once more. “I want to kiss you again. Properly, this time.”
Their third kiss lasted far longer than the first and second.
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zydrateacademy · 6 years
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Review - Monster Hunter World (PC)
This review contains spoilers. The benefit of playing a port months after the game initially hits consoles is that there are a host of guides available, which I recommend if you want to take this game moderately seriously (bit of an oxymoron there but bear with me). I don’t typically like games that require you to have extra study material to understand but to its credit, all I had to do was watch one video guide about the mechanics of my favored weapon, the Light Bowgun. After which I was probably fifty percent better every hunt after that. So I certainly recommend looking into that.
The story begins with your highly customize-able character on a ship to a ‘new world’, previously undiscovered in other games of the franchise. Your ship gets waylaid by a mountainous “Elder Dragon” who came up from sea. His back is full of magma and volcanic spouts and you climb his back in order to escape. Once you’re in safety, you find out he’s one of many that have migrated to this place for mysterious reasons. Typically one every few hundred years, now it’s one every decade and that has caused some turmoil in the ecosystem. Your job is essentially research. Kill monsters, stabilize the ecosystem, and arm yourself while doing so.
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Eventually there is an extended epilogue. Once you discover that Elder’s goal and what it might mean, you enter a “High rank” hunt mechanic because the ecosystem has changed and you react accordingly. Monsters in these quests are tougher and more aggressive, and you continually work your way up.
This review may maintain some comparisons to Dauntless. As I mentioned in that very review, my only experience with MH as a franchise was during a brief road trip with my friend back in the PSP days. I have little memory of it and I doubt I was any good or understand any of the minutiae of mechanics. As such, a majority of my experience in this genre comes from Dauntless, the free-to-play variant with more dumbed down mechanics than you couldn’t shake a stick at. Veterans of MH are calling World dumbed down, ha. If only they knew how far that could actually go. My immediate first impression of MHW was actually quite positive. There’s something I can do here that I never really could at Dauntless; actually solo monsters. Dauntless was fairly unforgiving, only giving you five (count them: five) potions per hunt. You burn through those without burning the monster down properly, and you were done. Mercifully here, you not only get dozens of varying degrees of usefulness, you can also craft more on the fly or withdraw some from your loot in various camps set up around the impressively large zones. While some monsters give me more trouble than others (most flying types can do a one-two knockout by rushing me, putting me in a twelve hour stun animation, then merely swipe at me for an instant death), I’ve been in awe at what I’ve actually been able to accomplish on my own. ...And unfortunately, I am forced to do a handful of things on my own. Let me tap into some of the problems I have before diving back into the meat and mechanics of the game. Steam reviews are mixed for a couple of reasons. Bad controls and connectivity issues. The bad controls are a remnant of the fact that it was originally a PS4 game and the menus really show that. The UI itself is very controller friendly while the M/K is barely given a second thought. I had to rebind my weapon draw to left click like it is with melee because I’d find myself engaged in too many fights, frantically clicking only to find out I was actually just using my slinger and tossing useless rocks at the monster. In addition, the radial menu might as well not exist, as it is bound to your various F1-F4 keys. It’s very clunky and not at all the “quick” menu that it’s supposed to be. Frankly, I’m tired of hearing “just get a controller” from my friends. I don’t think I’ve touched a controller since 2008. Next is a problem that Capcom and Steam are already looking into. While I’ve been able to progress, just last night I lost out on three high ranked hunts because it kept dropping me from the group. From what I’ve read, the monster’s hitpoints balance towards groups (instantly doubling when a second person joins your hunt) but doesn’t at all go back down if anyone leaves. At the time I was replaying what was basically the main story’s ending, fighting the last boss over and over. Thankfully his mission doesn’t have a lot of open combat and is mostly just firing cannons and ballistae at him over and over. Still, it dropped me three times and had little to show for it overall.
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There’s no direct party system, just player listings and hubs. You have to find a convoluted “Session ID” in the menus for your friends to copy and eventually join together. Someone posts a quest and everyone joins it. You won’t physically see anyone outside of a hunt unless you visit the gathering hub on top of the main town. The whole Session ID is just a pointless extra step that the likes of Capcom just love throwing in there. I am reminded of Black Desert Online. Despite being a different country, it still has the same idea behind its mechanics. One does not simply just craft or buy potions. First you have to press thirteen buttons just to get a stack of them. Then they might be put in your storage box, not personal pouch so you have to remember to take them out before your hunt. Then there’s the canteen mechanic, where you’re encourages you to eat to gain decent buffs before every hunt. Why not make that a single item you can use midhunt? Like Dauntless, pretty much every important thing in town is far apart and forces you into miniature loading screens. After every hunt you’re plopped on the bottom level but you still have to run up to the Blacksmith to fetch some upgrades. One does not simply make armor, too. In the higher levels you have to micromanage “decorations” to socket into your arms and armor to increase various passive skills. Why not just make those skills up-gradable like the armor itself? Indeed, one does not simply upgrade their armor! You have to collect “spheres” that you get from bounties and hunts in order to do so. Everything just has a pointless extra step, but I admit these are all nitpicks in what I do believe is a pretty damn good game. I have adjusted to the controls (even though it takes twelve clicks to get anywhere in the menu, but the combat is fine) and I can stomach the connectivity problems... for a time. Everything else is just a niggling annoyance that I have to deal with before I get to the real heart of the game: Expeditions and hunts. To its credit there’s a lot to do. Expeditions are the closest thing this game has to an “open world” setting. You will keep everything you acquire, gather materials and hunt the local monsters at your own leisure (though once you attack, they enter a sort of timer where they will flee the area if you fool around too much, but the mode itself will never kick you out). You can pick up quests on-site and continually remain in the zone you’ve chosen. Admittedly I haven’t explored expedition mode to a severe degree, as doing the various optional quests and bounties give me more than enough gameplay on their own. I never really need to piddle around the same zone for that long.
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I mentioned earlier that I was happy that I can actually solo a handful of monsters in this game as opposed to Dauntless. There’s a lot more to that, the “simplest of MH’s” claim be damned, I embrace convenience if it comes hand in hand with actual fun. You can farm the same monster a few times but I found that the game offers you a handful of armor sets that can be crafted from bones and minerals alone. You can pick up bones from piles around every map and mine at little alcoves and continually gain materials to sets that will be perfectly passable for a time. I wore the basic “bone” armor for a while before getting into the more specialized stuff. Revered is the Anjarath, the game’s T-Rex who has a fire breath attack that will absolutely one-shot you and serves as the game’s first difficulty wall. His armor, however, gives fire resistance so if you can stomach fighting him a couple times (ideally in multiplayer), then you can likely build yourself up to handle him properly. Fun fact; I’ve yet to solo him myself. Other monsters have given players trouble that have instead given me more fun. The Radobaan for example, a sort of mid-game encounter in a zone called the Rotten Vale. It is a place where many monsters go to die and their essence feeds the Coral Highlands above it. The Radobaan covers itself in the bones of dead creatures and is thus highly armored, and you must burn through that in order to do some raw damage. I know of players who find this armor annoying but his movements are highly telegraphed and he’s a fan of stumbling himself which gives me a lot of free shots at him. So far he’s honestly been one of my favorite monsters to fight.
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I did not realize this was the franchise’s first foray into big name consoles and even PC, the rest were evidently all handheld games. The intro into this hardware allows for a lot more powerful mechanics to come into play. New to the franchise, as far as I’m aware, is animal behavior. I can’t speak for the other games but I noticed a few things. There’s a turf war mechanic where two big bad monsters will encounter each other and start their own duel regardless of your presence. Each monster has its own “rating”, and I doubt a Great Jagras (the first and easiest monster) ever wins any of those.
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In addition to that, I’ve found that docile animal mechanics can occasionally tip me off. You see it in a cutscene a time or two but even before my scoutflies (the game’s justification for a “go this way” mechanic) start tracking the monster, I’d be going down a path and find herbivores running the opposite direction. Sure enough, down that path was a large monster. Part of the hunt or no, animals do react accordingly. Sometimes they’ll take defensive positions as you initiate combat, or sometimes they’ll fly down and knock you over in a moment of monster camaraderie that I wish they hadn’t bothered with. Still, its moments like this that help the world feel like an actual world, appropriate for the game’s namesake. I know I droned on a bit about the problems the game had but some of them (the controls) can be mitigated. I’m enjoying myself, spending a good majority of my time responding to SOS flares or pushing myself in the high rank hunts to see what exactly I might be able to handle. I rarely push myself to see what exactly I’m capable of in gaming, but MHW pays that off so well. Maybe I can’t handle that flying Rathian on my own, but managing to take down a tunnel dwelling Diablos was a thing of beauty. The hunts can be long and exhausting but finally watching a beast get taken down after a couple of deaths can be very exciting. The genre may not be for everyone. If you’re story driven, you’ll find the one here is short and weak and mostly just serves as a framework for the gameplay. If you like content, then there’s plenty to do that should be varied enough to keep you around, and I’m sure they’ll update more monsters in as time goes on. Even after I get my fill, I’m sure I’ll keep an eye on this one.
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framefreakstudio · 7 years
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Interview with Simon Wilches Castro: Director at Titmouse Studio
Simon Wilches Castro is the Creative Director at Titmouse Studio. Born in Popayán, Colombia. He Studied Visual Arts in Bogotá, Animation in Cuba and an MFA in the United States. Back in Colombia he used to do political and social satire and cartoons and got himself in trouble because of it. Now he’s a director at Titmouse Studios Los Angeles. Other work includes TBS in Japan, directed projects for Disney TV, Starburns industries, Netflix, Apple, Universal and Adult Swim. His films have screened in festivals around the world like Annecy, Hiroshima and Ottawa and has won awards including a double Adobe Design Achievement Award, an Annie Award Nomination and two Student academy award semifinalist nominations. He was awarded the FULBRIGHT Fellowship for artists in 2011.
(Be sure to watch the video interview below!)
Simon Wilches Castro started very small in Popayan, which was a small town with barely any computers available. When he grew he applied to Visual Arts in Bogota and got accepted. Later he went to Cuba to get more classes and become better at animation. He started doing a lot of political satire in a web show as that was present a lot in Colombia. Eventually he won an Scholarship to do a Masters in Animation and Digital Art USC School of Cinematic Arts at Los Angeles.
You can check his work here: His Vimeo/a> His Linked In/a> His Blog His Twitter  
vimeo
  Interview with Simon Wilches Castro:
youtube
(Click the play button to watch the video interview above)
Click here to watch in a new Tab: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jkJtJ-Uvmgc
In this Episode, You Will Learn:
Simon Wilches Castro’s Story
How to find your own uniqueness in art
How to learn animation with few resources
How to work in a team
Work Ethic in Animation
Actionable Steps
Trying to do what’s popular rarely works if ever. The magic is finding your own uniqueness, stay true to your own stuff.
It’s always good to know other skills like classic art, I draw weird but I also know how to draw normal if I need to.
When you’re in a job it’s about doing stuff in time, and if you want to do great things you need to find a way of how to do both
Before you didn’t had resources to learn, but now you can go to YouTube and check for Czechoslovakian animation and you’ll find something, yet most people don’t take advantage out of this.
All the things you see today that are crazy and edgy, they’re probably have been done already in half of the past century in Eastern Europe, knowing the story will allow you to be more creative in the use of your resources.
“YOU’RE ALWAYS LEARNING, YOU WILL GET BETTER AND FASTER IN YOUR WAY OF THINKING.”
Did You Enjoy This Interview? Let Us Know On Twitter!
If you enjoyed this interview, please let Simon and I know on Twitter by clicking on the link below:
Click here to let us know you loved the show!
Now it’s Your Turn!
Got questions or any advice or thoughts you want to share about this interview or anything you learned that helped you on your way to freedom? What’s one thing you can take from Simon Wilches Castro’s Journey? Please feel free to share in the comments section below!
Thanks so much for watching the interview with Simon Wilches Castro, I truly appreciate YOU!
Until Next Time!
Rodrigo
The post Interview with Simon Wilches Castro: Director at Titmouse Studio appeared first on Frame Freak Studio.
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{hello! i apologize for the resubmits, but the forms i had sent in before are now out of date. sorry!} {KEY: any text that is in “{}" are notes by me. please REMOVE EVERYTHING IN ”{}“ before the critique is published! characters with an asterisk next to their first name (in the first mention of them only) is a trans* character} {ANOTHER THING–PLEASE READ THROUGH THE FORM AND OPEN UP SOME RELIABLE RESOURCES ON DENMARK & AUSTRALIA BEFORE DOING ANY CRITIQUING. THANK YOU!} {read though them} {Sveskena is not Swedish, by the way. if something is Sveskena, it is something that comes from Nya Sverige… the micronation, ofc. there are no other works concerning Sveskena stereotypes other than this.} {yes. there is barely a reason as to why each character has to keep up a human identity, why they can die, /why births are so damn complicated/, et cetera. but, you’re not here to harp on about that; you’re here to harp on about the characters. je, thank you again… ALTHOUGH, i will state that there are a few characters that make fake identification throughout the webcomic. a handful of characters get governmental-approved IDs, though it is very troubling. of course, almost every anthro will run when people start getting suspicious on how they never had aged. a few have been killed due to human’s suspicions, even.} {one last note: DO NOT call mirenaj ”APH“. ok, ‘cause, you know? different titles? hey hey hey, maybe they’re different?}
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Fandom: Mirenaj {characters are anthropomorphisms, mainly based on SVESKENA stereotypes. "anthropomorphism” is nicknamed to “anthro” throughout this form.} Creation date: July, 2013 Time setting of character: January, 2014 Name: Merete Riber Nielsen {RIBER and NIELSEN are both last names} {due to that picking a given name for someone based on the name’s 'meaning’ is considered taboo in my nation, i will not even CONSIDER writing what the name MERETE 'means’. it is not worthwhile in the SLIGHTEST. RIBER means 'from Ribe’ (many Danish last names will work like that). Ribe is close to where merete was actually born & not where she currently claims to be from, and the oldest town in Denmark. NIELSEN is a patronymic, which is in relevance to her father’s name (nereiðr), which obviously had to be modernized, thus leading to NIELSEN… she simply refers to him as 'niels’ now, too (i find it plain in sight that whenever she had to talk about it, saying an Old Norse name would draw very much attention… so saying “why does she call him niels” will not do much good).} Other names: Móeiðr Nereiðardóttir (400 AD-1104 AD), Merete Riber Nielsdatter (1104 AD-1837 AD), Mette (nickname received from multiple people), Daisy (nickname received from Maja{ Marie Ludvigsen (Christiania)}), Marine Laura Fisker Sørensen (alias), Dana Smed Christensen (alias), rita Rømer Simonsen, Denmark, Den/Dan (nickname), Danmǫrk (400 AD-803 AD){“Denmark” in Old Norse}, Danmark (803 AD-present) {“Denmark” in Old East Norse dialect, Old Danish, to modern Danish} {currently, there are only aliases she has used since the 1840s.} Personality: She is a good listener and almost always tries to maintain a mature attitude. She easily becomes stressed, and usually smokes when under pressure. Around people she has known for a good while, she is quite outgoing and enjoys sharing her own opinions, though when first meeting anyone, she is rather reserved–it is easily mistaken as shyness. She will often aim to receive people’s approval, and hides the fact as well as she can, as the thought of someone finding out seems embarrassing to her. Other than smoking when stressed, another bad habit of hers is never looking people in the eyes when talking; even with the few people she feels most comfortable with, she will make no direct eye contact. {i know not looking people in the eye usually means that they have something to hide. it is meant to be like that, as it is a reference of her trying to hide what she has done in the past (such as her early viking years… as one of the most notable times she would prefer unsaid).} {i’m still working on this, too… ah, it seems so plain.} Appearance: She has shoulder-length, wavy dark blonde hair that is usually tied up in a high bun, and light blue eyes. Her skin is lightly tanned, and for the most part, rather clear{such as many other nations; along with being immortal, their average health is higher than normal humans, and they heal at a faster rate}. Her height is 170.18 cm, weighs 68 kg, and her body is rectangular-shaped. She is slim. She has two scars; one halfway across her right collarbone, another across her right knee. The scar on her knee is less visible than the one on her collarbone, due to it being not as deep and older. There is also a single brown mole on the inside of her left high thigh, and two more near her mid-spine on both sides of her back. She wears a white business shirt with the sleeves pushed up to her elbows, a light brown vest, light brown trousers (sometimes a brown, mid-thigh skirt), plain white ankle socks, and a pair of lace up, brown leather boots. Her scars are almost always covered up with makeup. {what the scars are from are still undecided, though it is unlikely for either of them to come from any blades.} Relatives: Nereiðr inn gamli/'Niels Riber Nielsen’{pretty much Denmark before the viking Era… he had lived through a bit of the viking Era, but after a while, he had died, due to someone else (merete) being in his place [as an anthro]. INN GAMLI is his byname (usually something not very kind, used only by others without the knowledge of whoever they were talking about… many people did not know of their byname. INN GAMLI means 'the old’, due to him looking older than of his claimed age.}{also, the full explanation of births in mirenaj is a little more lengthy, but in some cases, the new child will replace the anthro/one of the anthro parents} (father, deceased), Ásgauta Agnadóttir (human) (mother, deceased), Maja Marie Ludvigsen (daughter), Naaja Nanni Gertrud Fisker Nielsen (Greenland) ('adoptive daughter’{–nothing is official (due to the two having to keep up a human identity), though they state their relation as that to other anthros}), Ole Gustafsson (Skåne) (son {now in custody of helena Gustafsson (Sweden)}) Close friends: Cecilie Eriksen (Norway), Lydia Wright (Australia), Emily Johnson (USA) Enemies, strained relations, and rivals: Heinrich Eichel (Prussia) (enemies,{though there are occasional occurrences where the two are depicted as being friendly to one another}), Yasemin Değirmencioğlu (Turkey), Faris Dawud Muhammad (Syria) {the relations between yasemin & merete, and faris & merete have been rocky since the Muhammad cartoons crisis.} {there will probably be a few more people later on, because i haven’t made many Muslim anthros yet…} Other information:
• Speaks Danish and English fluently, along with a fair bit of German • Speaks with a light Danish accent {in reference to her want for people to approve/accept her… as she had eventually taught herself to lose most of her accent. it was originally based on the (possibly untrue) fact that a lot of young Danes don’t have much of an accent (ofc there is more of a story, ha), but i’d changed it a few months ago, because i wasn’t too sure on it… ah, i could of done way better on this, but i wanted to keep the voice i had for her originally had for her… as bad as that is for a character like this.} • Claims to be born on 5/6/1987 • Actual age is over 1, 600 years old {the date, month, and a defined year have not been sorted out yet, though it has a high chance of not being in relevance of any significant dates. ofc, most of the anthros wouldn’t be born exactly on a date that could be significant, anyway… especially one that hasn’t happened… it’s utterly illogical.} • Received the scar on her collarbone from the German Invasion of Denmark, which was during WWII (1940) {scar was personally given by christine Herz (Germany). uhh, in most ofmirenaj’s interpretations of wars/battles, when one gets a scar (from defeat, near defeat, the battle being tough in general, et cetera), it is from the anthros of the country(s) that their people were fighting against. in some cases it doesn’t go like that, but in most, it does.} • Received the scar on her knee from the Second Schleswig War (1846) {i’m not too sure if the scar should be from katja Fuchs (Austria) or heinrich Eichel, but it was from either of them.} {NEITHER of the scars were from a battlefield. idk if you noticed, but i hadn’t mentioned that either of the anthros had to be in their country’s armies, or anything like that, to of inflicted any pain or damage to the other anthro (in earlier times many wouldn’t of actually been allowed to join militaries, anyway).} • Openly pansexual and panromantic • Has a fear of doing something bad whilst drunk, or something bad happening to her whilst she is drunk {i haven’t yet figured out a reason for this, it once did have a reason, though… i had to change it though, because i got rid of the idea that there would be two anthros per nation. i’m not too sure if the original reason would even tie well with Denmark, as then i didn’t do that much research, so… uh, i’d prefer not to note any of my silly cutsey-Japanese-animation-chicks-that’s-all-we-need days…} • Has a fear of falling from high places {in reference to most of Denmark being flatland} • Is in contact with her children{not as personally with naaja, as naaja isn’t so fond of merete}, though never mentions anything about any of them being related unless asked by another anthro • Good at cycling • Enjoys watching soccer (and on the occasion, playing) • Often talks in her sleep • Likes reading, especially fairytales such as The Little Mermaid, The Troll’s Daughter, and Thumbelina • Trying to stop smoking, and is going OK • Her most recent job was a relief history teaching, though had quit about eight months ago • Lives in Copenhagen, alone (human AU; Sydney, along with Lydia, Maja, Anne{ Wright, Hutt River}, and Philip{ Wright, Wy}{lydia and merete are a married couple in the human AU. naaja had moved out and gone back to Greenland (where merete had adopted her) before lydia and merete had gotten married. aaaaaah, also… they had met and married in Denmark. gay marriage is still illegal in all states of in Australia…} {they’re a couple in the human AU due to the marriage of prince frederik and princess mary, by the way.}) • Lutheran Christian (religious beliefs)
Hey so. 
I’m not removing your extremely rude notes to the mods like you asked me to at the beginning of the post. Instead, I’m critiquing how you submitted this. 
any text that is in “{}" are notes by me. please REMOVE EVERYTHING IN ”{}“ before the critique is published!
A lot of the notes you have in this format are actually kind of relevant to people reading through your character info which is hard enough to follow as is. Not to mention the way it’s formatted is extremely hard to tell what to delete and what not to.
{one last note: DO NOT call mirenaj ”APH“. ok, ‘cause, you know? different titles? hey hey hey, maybe they’re different?}  
This is a quick note that submitting things like this to critique blogs mean you’re not paying us to do this. This is a favor we do for you guys for free and to help you.
{ANOTHER THING–PLEASE READ THROUGH THE FORM AND OPEN UP SOME RELIABLE RESOURCES ON DENMARK & AUSTRALIA BEFORE DOING ANY CRITIQUING. THANK YOU!} {read though them}
So don’t be a dick about it. Don’t tell me what I CAN AND CANNOT talk about within my critique. Don’t limit me and force me to do research I already would have done if you hadn’t been such an ass about it. 
Don’t tell me how to do my job--which I’m doing for you. AS. A. FAVOR. 
YOU ARE NOT PAYING ME TO DO THIS. THIS IS NOT A JOB THAT YOU GET TO SET RULES FOR. YOU’RE NOT MY BOSS. Senpai mod DOES get paid to critique and edit writing for people who have published books. This isn’t my first rodeo. 
{yes. there is barely a reason as to why each character has to keep up a human identity, why they can die, /why births are so damn complicated/, et cetera. but, you’re not here to harp on about that; you’re here to harp on about the characters. je, thank you again…
FOR REAL MY DUDE? The whole reason characters have to be critiqued is so that they fit within a world they exist in. Preemptively talking about my critique as if it’s “harping”. Then why the FUCK did you submit it in the first place? 
{due to that picking a given name for someone based on the name’s 'meaning’ is considered taboo in my nation, i will not even CONSIDER writing what the name MERETE 'means’. it is not worthwhile in the SLIGHTEST.
I do not require you to do this. I don’t understand why you think you have to defend yourself that you don’t care about what a character’s name means. In all honesty, I don’t either unless it has a place within your canon that name meanings are important to the culture. You’re preoffended at something I would never even complain about. 
So here’s the deal. I like these characters. In fact I’m very interested in them and I like a lot of what you’ve told me about them--I like it a lot. It’s super interesting. 
HOWEVER. When you come into a situation being rude and unapproachable, entitled to my help as if you should be able to police the way I discuss your characters when you’re submitting them to me for me to discuss, I draw issue. 
I don’t know if something’s lost in translation here, but this does not come across as if you want my help. 
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