#old friends!! old friends that have grown somewhat distant but care just as much!!
So what if sasukes darling that doesn’t really care for the leaf for their own personal reasons and doesn’t want to live there in the future when they settle down and sasuke is one of the only leaf ninja they like from there ?😂I just want to see drama of sakura darling completely ignoring team seven and cpecially sakura bc they from leaf or darling just not liking none of them
Synopsis: Sasuke with a s/o who doesn't like anyone from the leaf.
Pairing: Yandere Sasuke Uchiha x reader
Format: Headcanons
WARNING(S) : slight yandere tendencies
🍙 Even SASUKE could not recall when or how you grew so close. The two of you were easily competing for "most distant asshole", as Kakashi woul d say, every day. But you beat him by a long shot. You were so quiet and reserved, it was like you were a mere vessel with no one to inhabit it. Then you finally said something to his surprise.
🍙 “I hate this village,” You scoffed at no one in particular. “When I'm old enough I'll move out of here and never turn back.” Sasuke attempted to suppress his laughter to little avail. You wanted exactly what he wanted, to leave and never look behind him. Your views intrigued him the more he invested his time in them. At that moment he made his up mind about you.
🍙 Team seven made many attempts to get along with you. You ignored them. Sakura wished to become your friend, but it was solely to get closer to a certain Uchiha. So, you ignored her. Naruto was annoying, so you ignored him. Only when in the presence of Sasuke were you somewhat interested in listening.
🍙 You truly did not have the patience for anyone's petty antics, Sakura's especially, and that girl seemed to have plenty of them. You were already aware of her "little" crush on the shinobi, long before he asked you out. But frankly, you couldn't care less. You didn't like her anyways; but she was angry, understandably so. Her pointless shrieks no more than further your desire to leave this wretched place. And she would be the first person you get away from.
🍙 After the Great Ninja War, the two of you ventured far beyond the Leaf. Even so, your very last moments there still lay fresh on your mind: Sakura confessing her love for Sasuke, begging and pleading for him to rethink his decisions. Naruto trying to convince you to stay for no reason in particular. Kakashi didn't care in the slightest. You snort at the memory, it was amusing to this day.
🍙 “You're distracted. Why's that?” It seemed as though every time your mind wandered, Sasuke was there to retrieve it. There was not a moment where you were left to marvel at the wonders of your vast mind, for Sasuke had grown envious of what dared to capture it. You leaving him remained one of his greatest fears. After all, You were no fool, and if given the opportunity he was sure you'd lose interest in him much like you did with the others.
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[ she/her] — the TWENTY-SIX year old is a LADY, how exciting to see them this season! rumors have it they are INTELLIGENT and DETERMINED, but i’ve heard they are ILL-TEMPERED and STUBBORN as well — maybe that’s why they’ve been called the TENACIOUS. I have even heard that SHE IS AT RISK OF LOSING HER FORTUNE —only time will tell.
basics;
name: devika krishnamurti, devi to friends
age: 26
title: lady, inherited from her father
history;
devika's mother was the equivalent of "nobility" in southern india, a distant relation of the pandya dynasty. though her pandya blood had been diluted over several generations, she was popular at court because she was a skilled bharatanatyam dancer
devika's father held title and land in england, but had a restless spirit. he studied works such as the mahabharata, the bhagavad gita, the book of the dead, the tablets of gilgamesh, the iliad, and the odyssey. he wanted to see the places these texts came from
while traveling the world, he met devika's mother. they fell in love and married in india
devika was born in india and spent the first few years of her life there, but her family had to return to england after the death of her paternal grandfather
her mother had a hard time adjusting to the move. she missed home and she adapted poorly to england. additionally, the travel was hard on her body, and she soon fell ill
though she eventually recovered, her body seemed permanently weakened. she couldn't dance as much as she used to, and as soon as devika was old enough, she was often taking care of her mother alongside the staff
when devika was 19, she came out to society. in that same season, her brother was born. her mother died in childbirth
it was an unsuccessful season for her due to the grief that seemed to blanket her household. her father was devastated by her mothers' death and was no longer taking care of himself, never mind her new brother nor the estate. she began tending to all three
she never planned to marry. she had accepted she was going to be a spinster, and was content to take care of her brother until he was of age to inherit the estate, and then she would take a portion of their wealth to travel the world just as her father did
currently;
a few months ago, her father died in a carriage accident. shortly before passing, he invested a sizeable portion of their family wealth into what turned out to be a fraudulent venture
devika has enough money to run the estate for the next year. if she doesn't marry before then, her and her brother will be left destitute. she knows she's hardly of the ideal marrying age, and is a bit resigned to the fact she's probably gonna have to marry some gross oldie
personality/likes;
having shouldered an enormous amount of responsibility since she was young, she has a somewhat serious disposition. though she can come off reserved, she has a sharp wit and strong feelings about even the most innocuous of things. when she's grown comfortable enough to open up, she is a loyal friend and very loving
she inherited the passions of her mother and her father. she's read all of the ancient texts in her father's library, and has acquired a few more, by gift, since his passing
she's trained in bharatanatyam and she still dances every night, but never for an audience. she can no longer afford her teacher, but she still goes for lessons when she has time. her teacher has become sort of an aunt figure to her
stressed bisexual<3 has never had a sexual experience with a man, but has had a handful with women. ladies if u wanna get TOPPED hit me up
tldr;
dead mom, dead dad, bankrupt estate, she super needs to marry this season, which she's balancing with taking care of her 7 year old little brother - feel free to ask anything else here or on discord! my tag is mayareplies#2206
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FFXV AU: Find Your Way
Libertus: *supposedly projected to be the sensible one in the party and normal of the bunch*
Also Libertus : *goes AWOL, does his own thing, also takes a car and slams into Drautos without remorse, and later takes over as a figurehead of the Kingsglaive*
A quick writing challenge for myself.Character study of sorts? This one is hard and I eventually gave up. But Libs deserves something too I feel, after considering the end of Kingsglaive and Comrades.
Also, some Iris and Crowe things too.
——-
Stay honest. Be humble. Do good and keep out of trouble.
There are the words his mam had kept drilling into him as a kid. Words to live by that simply, and logically made sense.However the Galahdian has no idea how trouble just keeps finding him. Libertus tried. He really did.
Libertus tried when Nyx went canyon diving in effort to out do Luche. He somewhat attempted when little Selena attempted to have a pet piranha in Jahha Ulric’s ornamental fish pond in their garden. He did all he could when Crowe had placed fireworks in Furia’s locker out of spite over something silly.
“-You wilful child, don’t you dare-!”
SLAM!
Now the burly Galahdian can only gape blankly, watching the disaster unfold before his eyes. All while their unexpected stowaway had went and snatched the comms, slamming the device with Lord Clarus Amicitia’s voice yelling himself hoarse out of Sasha’s hands without a thought. The poor boy gaping at the Lucian bewilderedly. Whereas his squad could only stare at the suddenly quiet machine as young Lady Iris Amicitia storms off to the edge of the haven in quiet anger like a monsoon storm brewing in the horizon.
His squad turns to him eerily in sync. All eyes wandering towards their Deputy expectantly to deal with this unexpected turn of events.
Libertus can only sigh and begins to trudge his way over to where Iris was.
The Lucian forces are low on manpower and tight on time due to having one Marshal and Prince’s Shield down as Nyx tries to cover for Gladiolus. This left the warfront to the both the King and Lord Shield as well as Major Elshett, Major Ackers and the Glaives. They had barely managed to reclaim Leide and Duscae. Now they are pushing all efforts to clear the daemon nests around Cleigne while replenishing ammunition to other teams further out clearing Imperial bases. All to strengthen their foothold in the Lestallum region that they just secured. However this unexpected development has put a wrench in their current schedule.
As the only child but part of a large Clan, his mam and his ba were both rather old when they finally had him. Libertus then grew up cared for, and caring for a large family with plenty of cousins. Selena Ulric too, was as good as his own baby sister considering how close he was with the Clan Ulric and Nyx.
After moving to Insomnia,Nyx was distant as were his kinsmen. Maybe it was his nature or just his inability to leave anyone alone,or the need to have a friend, Libertus is not entirely sure, but he felt an affinity and need to look after Crowe when they first met in the Kingsglaive. She had been this scrawny young kid whose eyes were filled with fire and rage. An absolute a handful, not that she is not anymore, but the man is optimistic enough to think she is past her rebellious phase now as a grown woman and excellent mage. Now a fellow Deputy in the Kingsglaive.
They had all did pretty well looking after each other’s stupid asses while raising a girl with so much fire and character, that much was certain. Yet, he knows without a doubt that if it weren’t for Crowe, and being allowed to care for her as a brother figure, it managed to keep him busy from spiralling into a darkness that he shudders to think about. She was an anchor when he had been adrift since coming to Insomnia after watching most of his family perish in the Rebellion as Galahd burned. Nyx and his fellow kinsmen had their own demons to deal with, and at one point they all had sorta slipped towards the deep end.
Now it feels like deja-vu as he sees a different pair of bright, fierce eyes filled with the same fire staring back at him.
That is, until the firecracker threw a punch at him.
The young Lady had nearly threw him off if he had not reacted quickly enough to dodge. He also chooses to tune out the sudden cheer from his men. The bastards are just watching a free show as he avoids a hit in his solar plexus from the tiny girl.What do House Amicitia feed their kids anyway?
“Woah now! Holy Ramuh, Iris? What? What brought this on? A little family squabble?”Libertus laughs awkwardly before he sputters and notices something is clearly wrong with the bright and chirpy girl. They are not close, due to their different stations. Even though they have met on several occasions in Insomnia, him on guard duty with Iris sharing small talk with the friendly glaive while in the Citadel. Even having fought together a couple of times in Lestallum when daemons suddenly started to overrun the area when they were wrestling Lestallum back from the Imperials. The Iris he knows is always optimistic and supportive, helping wherever she could. A good kid all around. This unusual behaviour have caught him entirely off guard.
“Libertus, fight me!”
The Glaive chokes on his own spit as Iris sudden demand snaps him out of his own head and turns to his possible murderer and person to single handedly end his entire somewhat moderately lukewarm Kingsglaive career, “w-what?”
“Fight. Me!”
“Yeeeeah no. Not gonna do that, squirt.” Libertus has enough. He’s not the strongest fighter but he is still a veteran nonetheless, and he easily subdues the angry Amicitia with a firm grab, locking her arms in a quick disarming manoeuvre without hesitation. Unlike mainlanders, Galahdians do not coddle their fighters and young, especially towards women raised to be warriors, the Muu’laris.
Iris struggles, unrelenting and unwavering until she finally runs out of steam. Exhausted in her rage.
“I’mma let you go.And then we’ll talk. Only talk.Yeah?” Libertus tells her calmly and patiently, almost like dealing with an unruly child.
“…Fine.” The Galahdian releases her and Iris Amicitia turns and looks at Libertus grimly, shoulders squared and fists balled tightly by her side.
“Its.I just-I-”
Iris then crumbles as she curls down and begins to wail, her chest heaving in broken heaving breaths.Her form shaking.
Oh, oh no. If anything, there is one thing Libertus cannot deal with, its kids, and tears.
(He also has no idea why he is suddenly involved in so much family drama. From Royal sibling quarrels to Royal family disputes. This was all NOT in the Glaive Recruitment briefing.)
Libertus fumbles a little, taken by surprise for the second time that night. Confused as he turns to his own crew watching them incredulously. Minos even has the audacity to even mouth at him a ‘lol you done fucked up’ while Sasha has gotten whiplash, stunned by the entire display. With both Miles and Elea watching on, intrigued. He resists the urge to give them a rude hand gesture and chooses to ignore the unhelpful bunch in favour of the situation at hand. The burly man squats down and quietly pats the broken girl carefully on her back in attempt to calm her distress.
“Hey, hey? We gotcha. Its okay. Let it all out.” Libertus pats her back gently.Iris just cries harder into her knees. Until the tears simply would not flow anymore and reduced into small hacking sobs. There was silence with only the sound of insects and the daemons groaning in a distance, on top of little sniffles filling the night as the camp fire crackles and the Glaives watch sympathetically nearby.
“So, wanna talk about it? I have a good ear.” Libertus tries to break the silence awkwardly. The big Galahdian trying to gauge the problem and making the space comfortable for the teen to talk on her terms.
“…They won’t listen. As if we aren’t in the middle of War and they just want me safe! They forgot that no one IS safe! Jared nearly died if you guys had not arrived just in time and Talcott, he-” Iris begins to rant irritably in a jumble, heaving between sobs, “Daddy even nearly died now he’s on the frontlines. And-and Gladdy! He-Gladdy just takes off to take an stupid Trial and-“ the young Amicitia purse her lips and tries to gather herself.
Ah. Libertus is starting to see the problem.
In the chaos, they all seem to have forgotten that its the people dearest to them by their side breaking apart without a word. What more a civilian girl who lost her home and now have to watch helplessly while everyone around her are heading out to possibly die. In his personal opinion, the Lord Shield and Gladiolus have neglected to ponder if their actions would affect their family. Though by no means intentionally or deliberate with ill will. Now, Iris’ confession reminds Libertus of loved ones lost during the long years up to the Rebellion of Galahd and his time in the Glaive under Drautos, watching brothers and sisters in arms perish on the battlefield. The grim feeling of regrets he had long buried coils around his heart wretchedly.
Sometimes, its those who are left alive by the sidelines who suffer the most pain.
Gladious’ choice to take on an impossible Trial and the Lord Shield’s brush with death seemed to have become Iris’ tipping point. Its a behaviour he’s all too familiar within the Kingsglaive. With people reaching their threshold, they collapse as the cup spills over, the heart unable to contain anymore fear and helplessness. Even the brightest and most put together looking ones. Maybe them most of all.
“I’m sorry. This is so stupid.” Iris mumbles, wiping her eyes and muffling the last sniffles that escapes her.The girl starting to process her irrational behaviour it seems.
“Naw kid. Glad that you trust me enough to talk. Though running away from your safe house and hanging up on the Lord Shield is not great, I gotta admit there.” Libertus plops down, tired of squatting and pats the grassy patch, gesturing the teen to settle down. He pulls out a handkerchief of intricate Galahdian patterns and offers it to her.
Iris takes it with a soft thanks as she folds her arms and curls deeper into herself.
“What exactly happened? If you don’t mind me askin’?”
“I had asked but daddy won’t even consider letting me join the frontlines to help. Even when I have been trained in combat since I was a kid. Not as much as Gladdy, but eventually I would enter the Crownsguard myself anyway. He is barely coping and I can see he’s struggling so clearly. Gladio has his hands full as Shield for Noctis and having to guard Lady Lunafreya. Yet all I am expected to do is stand on the sidelines like I’m nothing!” Iris begins, “I’m just tired of being treated like glass when my entire family is out there when clearly I can help! I am an Amicitia, am I not?”
Libertus hears her loud and clear. It resonates somewhere in Libertus that this is beyond some teenage rebellion. Its a need steaming from something deeper from within.
How many times he himself had said a similar thing to his cousins going out to fight the Empire when they encroached on their shores? Or every time Nyx attempts to be a Hero out on the field to save everyone in their company? Or Crowe trying to do things her way stubbornly on the field, pushing herself into stasis every time. The baby glaives all being stubborn and destructive, doing things beyond them as they cope with their own hurts?
How he himself threw his own being out there with no regards until he was so tired of all the futile fighting done up until the damn Treaty and the Fall? Libertus is a practical person to a fault, but for once since this chaos had begun, he finds himself daring to hope. For Eos, for his people, for himself.
“To be fair, they are right. You are barely of enlistment age, Iris. Plus, you are Lord Amicitia’s youngest and only daughter. They all love you, Iris. Do not doubt that. Your life is priceless and should anything happen to you, your father and your brother will break apart.” Libertus slowly gives his perspective. Whether the girl listens or not is another thing.
Iris remains quiet, her eyes downcast and deathly still.
“I will admit I kinda didn’t think this through properly…You guys might be in trouble. I’m so sorry. ” Iris at least finally realises the consequences of her brashness and look sheepish. Which earns her a bark of laughter from the burly man.
“Ha! We’re already are. Although one disciplinary report and you still can’t beat the Nyx’s and his file is like what? 6 Lucian dictionaries tall?” Libertus jokingly laughs to himself in his own amusement before letting the conversation turn back with seriousness. “Damn right you didn’t. I won’t sugarcoat it for you, its damn stupid and reckless. But at least you realise it. Thats a step. So I still havta ask, did you just ran out with us just to prove a point?”
Libertus is watching Iris carefully, though he suspect he knows the answer.
“No.Just.Well… I just don’t want to just sit around do nothing when I know I can do something.” Iris turns to him, stubborn defiance in her voice. ”…Are you guys going to send me back to Jared now?”
The Galahdian sighs heavily, feeling the tension on the back of his head tighten. Not that he is keeping count how many times he is doing that. He knows he will regret this and it has the potential to blow up in his face. Yet he also is familiar enough to know if he does not do what his gut feels right, Iris will just get herself into a deeper mess later. Not that she is not right now.
“If you wanna be a hellion, I honestly rather you do it with us and have people watching your back.” Libertus caves and considers the options and his life choices. He prays silently and hopes this would not bite him in the ass. Its obvious the young Amicitia girl will not stop if told no anyway.
Iris perks up cautiously. Libertus pauses, as he turns serious with what comes next.
“But I’m going to be serious, Iris, you MUST follow our commands. We’ll guide you and do the mission together. We can go clear out some daemons as per our mission. You get to prove your point and also a chance to prove yourself. Later you can take this as an experience or make your argument with Lord Amicitia or the King and whoever. I don’t know. But you will stick with us and please, your safety first. If not for me, for the rest of the Glaives’ sake.”
“So, you’ll let me help? I can fight with you guys?” Iris starts carefully, sitting up with her back straightened, almost unbelieving.
“If I know the Captain well enough, he won’t agree to allow you with us on the field. But we sure as hell don’t have the luxury and time to send you back now either. However if shit gets real, I will be dragging you back with Jared and Talcott first thing without a word. I’m not risking shit. Not you, not any of my squad. You get me?” Libertus lays it down and Iris jumps up, her eyes, glittering and bright before making a textbook salute.
“Sir, yes, sir!”
Etro, please preserve him and his soul.
Libertus sighs for the nth time that evening and in an instant feels older by a decade.Questionable life choices aside, this is a whole other set of responsibility that is not part of his job. But looking at her cheerful smile all wide and hopeful, Libertus cannot find it in him to be annoyed to be honest. He really is too soft to be a soldier.
He also wonders wryly which will hit him faster? Discharge papers, or the Lord Shield’s blade?
——-
“WHAT THE FUCK LIBS?!”
Sure enough. Nyx personally is not okay with Iris out in the field and was very vocal about it. Libertus somewhat knows why too, considering Selena was barely 14 when she died in the Rebellion as a Muu’laris. However, the Kingsglaive Captain literally cannot do anything at the moment stuck with the Prince’s retinue. So for once the tables are turned with Nyx telling Libertus off in rapid Galah that has Minos, the only Galahdian apart from Libertus in the group, wincing with every word.
The burly Galahdian simply gestures for Sasha, the poor baby glaive, to let the comms run on its own. While the squad digs into a Malboro feast as a treat after a long night of tearing apart several daemon nests.
Libertus had been firmly adamant in his stand and opinion as much as Nyx is. Its the truth that they need all the capable fighters on deck after losing Insomnia. Iris has already proven herself she is no pushover and combat wise, she is a damn good fighter. Petite but not fragile. Hell no.
It is true that the girl is not supposed to be here for many reasons. Lucians do not operate on the same way as Galahdians in the way they view their warriors. That, on top of her current status as Lady of House Amicita. Captain Ulric declares this out of his hands and had gone straight to the King to intervene. He’s not risking the someone else’s only daughter, especially when the Marshal is not here either to call the shots on the Crownsguard’s end of things. This is also not a responsibility he is willing to throw onto his men with good conscience either.
It was a quiet morning when the King himself calls Iris personally. He remains silent as Iris speaks to him through the comms, polite and concise, firm but respectful, as per her station of high Lucian nobility. An impeccable image of a Lady of House Amicitia. After listening to the girl herself and considering Iris’ own choices, Regis relents. He puts out the command for Libertus and his Glaives to watch over Iris in official capacity of training her. One royal decree later, their squad instantaneously gets a disciplinary warning each by Captain Ulric, Iris receives hers from the Head of the Crownsguard Lord Amicitia himself. Their Deputy alone gets three. Which makes Libertus huff at while his crew laugh as the situation finally settles.
Iris gives Libertus a hug, screaming with chains of happy ‘thank you‘ on repeat as they continue on their journey. The Galahdian is glad, even considering the trouble it earned him. It was worth it as he watch the young Crownsguard slowly blossom into a formidable warrior all on her own.
——-
The first time Iris kills a human imperial soldier, Libertus stays by her side throughout the rest of the day. Much like how he did for Crowe and the baby glaives on their first stint. On another occasion in an ambush on one of their scouting trips, the crew all stay up and making sure her concussion does not turn into something worse.
Between destinations, they all share old childhood stories comparing to each region they hail from. Favourite food, the weird snacks in different birthplaces. Families and memories of parents and cousins, and a mom Iris barely remembers. Small things that they find common ground and familiarity with. The glaives teaches her combat and run drills with her along the way as well as other essential military knowledge. There’s some sort of humour and pride among them that they are training a Crownsguard the Kingsglaives’ ways, let alone the Lord Shield’s daughter. Though let it be known that Amicitias definitely live up to their reputation. Iris’ skills are right on par with any soldier starting out.
When they finally meet at one of the hunters outposts, Crowe was surprised to find Iris fitting in comfortably with Libertus and the Glaives. The Deputy mage already fond of the young Amicitia after hearing about the fiasco along the grapevine, even more so after seeing her attitude and tenacity on the battlefield.
They get on well. Too well. Crowe and Iris. The latter whom he had come to build a close friendship and becoming sort of another little sister he has come to care for. He certainly did not expect these two women he had come to cherish as much as his own family would end up hitting off so quickly as he watches carefully both Crowe and Iris lay waste to an Imperial Base alongside their fellow glaives. All of them running high on adrenaline.
Fate works in strange ways. If someone were to tell young Libertus years ago he would one day leave his broken Clan and ruined homeland, becoming one of the leaders of the Lucian military, he would laugh and tell you to take a walk. Gaining a clan sister and battle sister on the mainland in all but blood, one braiding his braids while the other cooking his family’s recipes surrounded by his kinsmen and comrades? The burly Galahdian would probably toss them into the Eastern Ocean immediately without a word.
Fate certainly is strange.
——-
[Kingsglaives Command Message Channel 3-1]
[Nyx 9:20am] where you at switch on the comms channel dumbass
[Libs 9:21am] reporting back to C.C Base. y?
[Nyx 9:21am] Gladiolus is back and get ur ass ready since guessing we have a 3 way Amicitia family fight to break up later by the looks of things
[Nyx 9:21am] Quite ballsy lately eh big guy
[Libs 9:22am] STFU. Also btw, since i am getting dishonourably discharged then means i am no longer a deputy?
[Nyx 9:23am] [ √ message seen ]
———
.
.
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Bonus:
Years later, at the Mainland Port before leaving for Galahd, Libertus will bid farewell to Lucis. After officially welcoming Crowe into his Clan as a sister. Though the woman had chosen to remain in Lucis as the new Captain of the Kingsglaive. While promises are made by a tearful Iris hugging him tight, crying like she did that night by the haven, though her tears now are for different reasons entirely. The Amicitia makes sure to keep in touch and promises that she would come visit the Galahdian once Galahd is ready, her treasured friend and mentor.
As the ferry departs, the Galahdian lets his mind wander while watching the mainland become a speck in the horizon. Once without a purpose, often going along with the whims of the people around him. He realises he had eventually found his strength to stand his own ground, paving his way forward, becoming an entirely a different man he once envisioned unexpectedly. A good sort of different.
In the near future, when he would once again return to Insomnia, the Galahdian would instead be the one to ugly sob at Iris’ wedding. Well, thats another story of its own.
——-
art here
Song for this ficlet: FFXV OST Up For The Challenge
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doods
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The Golden Guard: Eda’s Dark Parallel?
Does anyone else think that the Golden Guard actually reminds Lilith a LOT of Eda, specifically Eda as a kid, during the good old days before she got cursed?
Think about it… They’re both sassy, hot-headed teen prodigies with an owl motif and yellow attire. And the way Lilith angrily talks about the Golden Guard, it seems her feelings of resentment mirror how she felt towards Eda back when they were kids? Lilith, who was by-the-book and traditional, worked so hard… And then there’s this younger person with an Owl motif who just swoops in out of nowhere and through talent, completely outclasses her!
If you go with the idea that Lilith wanted Gwendolyn’s approval and had to compete with Eda over that… Then for all we know, maybe Lilith lowkey wanted Belos’ approval as well, but felt like she was being cheated out of that with the Golden Guard, who kept stealing the spotlight from her!
Like she was afraid he’d take her spot as head of the Emperor’s Coven, the way Lilith feared that Eda would win the initiation duel back when they were kids… And lo and behold, the Golden Guard DID take that! Granted Lilith left an obvious vacancy from her own betrayal of Belos so of course he took that spot, but still; It’s quite a sore spot.
In some ways, perhaps Lilith is aware of this, deep-down or not; She might see the Golden Guard as just Young Eda, but without any of the emotional connection, nor any redeeming qualities; If he does have them, again, it’s not like Lilith knows the Golden Guard well enough to know these traits, much less take them into account.
LOTS of text and speculation and analyses below!!!
The Golden Guard is even sixteen years old… Which, is very likely EDA’s age, back when her and Lilith competed for the Emperor’s Coven! That can take on a whole new, dark meaning for her…
Perhaps Lilith is low-key disturbed by the Golden Guard’s existence, because he reminds her too much of Young Eda? Eda, before she was cursed- So it’s like the memory of her is coming back to haunt Lilith, in the form of someone who has no concern for Lilith whatsoever to hold him back, unlike the actual Eda.
And in a way, it’s a horrible reminder that some things never change, that some things stay the same and Lilith can’t get past them, she can’t outgrow it like she thought she did; Because even now, even as head of the Emperor’s Coven, there’s still a 16-year-old prodigy with an owl motif and yellow attire, who is sassy and playful and mischievous, who threatens to upstage Lilith’s self-esteem and sense of power. Somebody Lilith is afraid of; Thirty years later, and she STILL has to deal with this kind of person in her life, but it’s worse because she’s actually older and should be better, yet somehow isn’t…
Who knows? Maybe Lilith even recognized the similarities to Eda, enough to actually be sympathetic to the Golden Guard at first? Perhaps she, on some level, saw the Golden Guard as a way to vicariously redo her past with Eda, but without the mistakes… Maybe she tried to be nice to the Golden Guard, but then he quickly turned out to be a snob, he’s not REALLY Eda; So Lilith settled on never cursing him like she did Eda, but then otherwise decided that she didn’t owe him any love and could just quietly loathe his guts.
Lilith failed Eda in part because she was an older sister who abandoned her in a time of need, but there’s not really that expectation with the Golden Guard, so why bother? She’s got enough on her plate as is, and an ACTUAL Eda to worry about, to look after, to be concerned for and patch things up with.
I’ve even seen people make the very good point that in a lot of ways… The Golden Guard is like a Dark Eda? In the sense that, he’s Eda, had she joined the Emperor’s Coven as a kid. He’s a look at Young Eda, if she didn’t reject the Coven System, and joined Belos- Reveling in her own talent and power as granting her ‘special treatment’ over the rest, so any downsides to the coven system weren’t HER problem anyway!
Again, this adds another layer to the Golden Guard being very reminiscent of Young Eda, and even current Eda as well… Except, he never lost his magic and was never cursed. Maybe that’s another thing he unknowingly haunts Lilith over; He’s lowkey a reminder of what Eda could’ve been, had Lilith not been selfish and a coward, or had she communicated better. Yet at the same time, he’s frustrating- Because the Golden Guard is like the worst parts of Eda, the parts that Lilith hated and made her resentful…
And this constant reminder of the past, of her own issues with Eda back then that culminated in the curse- It could’ve made it a LOT harder for Lilith to really resolve things with Eda, because this kid keeps reminding her why she was so angry, and it’s impossible for her to move on because the Golden Guard isn’t some distant memory, but an actual person who continues to threaten her, the way Eda had…
And of course, the Golden Guard reminds Lilith of the Eda she lost; The happy, carefree Eda who wasn’t cursed, the Eda she could’ve had in a sense. The Eda that Lilith in some ways wanted, yet is forced to confront and acknowledge is a very obnoxious and terrible person that makes her unhappy…
And this kind of rude reminder that the Eda that Lilith wanted would’ve continued to make her miserable, if not moreso, is not something she appreciates shattering her dreams and low-key denial, of a world where things had just been a little different.
The person you’re trying to get, maybe get BACK, wasn’t so great after all- So you just have to move on, and be glad for the Eda who IS happier with her life and more mature, despite being older and more cursed. You gotta move past your guilt Lilith, and realize that Eda is in a better place- Not that she ever needed the curse, but she doesn’t quite need saving from the parts of her life she actually chose for herself, in part to be kind to Lilith no less! Because I bet Lilith believes that deep down, she didn’t deserve Eda’s kindness, so she wishes to reverse that compassionate decision of Eda’s that only resulted in Eda suffering because of how terrible Lily secretly is.
But, back to the subject; There’s more similarities to Eda and the Golden Guard, especially at the end of Separate Tides; How he makes an ominous warning before casually, happily yelling “BYYEEEE!!!”, just like Eda when she warns Luz about trying to have a Moonlight Conjuring in Hooty’s Moving Hassle, before heading off to the Night Market. His widow’s peak even bears a decent resemblance to Eda’s, doesn’t it? Which…
Combined with all of the talk about bird motifs being a Clawthorne thing, it DOES raise many questions about the Golden Guard’s potential connection to Eda. Is he some long-lost son? A third child that Gwendolyn had later in life, because witch biology might allow them to do that? Some homunculus, crafted from bits of DNA from Eda, and maybe even Belos? Belos does seem weirdly fond and trusting of him, the two are placed together in the Season 2 outro when nobody else, not even Kikimora, is there; And of course, the Golden Guard wields a staff, red magic, and fleshy creations, VERY similar to Belos…
I can’t say for sure- But the idea of the Golden Guard as an alternate Eda is fascinating. An Eda who became completely arrogant, and didn’t stop to care about others; Her cockiness and mischief becoming cruel and obnoxious, essentially the worst parts of Eda, down the path she’d always dreaded. A look into another life, a different choice in such a pivotal part of her past… Personally, I LOVE this kind of dark parallel of a character, so I’m hoping these similarities are commented upon in-universe, assuming they’re not outright literal!
In a way, the Golden Guard could haunt Eda, because he reminds her of herself… Of her carefree youth, but what she could’ve had… But also, the terrible things she’d done. And obviously Eda despises the coven system too much to really change her mind, and it’s safe to say that the Golden Guard is not at all what she wanted to ever become… But still, it’s a neat bit of character writing and parallelism. If Belos is like a Dark Luz, what Luz could’ve been had she not grown… And the same could apply between King and Kikimora;
Then who knows? The Golden Guard could be a Dark Eda, who got by talent and continued to take things for granted. An Eda who swore loyalty to Belos and was embraced by the emperor for her skill and ability. Jovial and cheery, but without any of the actual compassion that makes this genuine with Eda. An immature brat who never grew up (granted he’s only sixteen and hasn’t gotten the chance), unlike Eda. And if the Golden Guard is an alternate Eda;
It’s fascinating how his roles are reversed with his alternate Luz… The Eda parallel is younger than the Luz parallel, learning from them, and taking after their motifs as well! But I guess it’s not all too surprising, with how Eda and Luz both learn from one another, though I suspect Belos and the Golden Guard aren’t as mutual, but who knows?
It does make you wonder about Kikimora and King as potential mediators between these duos, whose placement remains consistent… How does Kikimora, the King parallel, interact with her Luz and Eda? Did she become close friends with HER Luz, while, as Dana’s art suggests, she seems somewhat irritated by and resentful of her own Eda? So it’s like Eda and King never grew to be friends and conquer differences… As well as if King never grew to respect Luz and saw her as just a “f*cking nerd”?
With how Luz is taking after Eda, and possibly getting a Cardinal palisman to complete the Clawthorne motif as a new member of the family… Who knows? The Golden Guard could be an intriguing character for her to bounce off of narratively, maybe as someone Luz might have, in another universe, learned to look up to and admire? How well Luz’s relationship be with the Golden Guard, if they are a Dark Eda? And how can this indirectly show us about how Luz and Young Eda would’ve interacted, what Young Eda was like, what Lilith went through as a kid…
And, for all we know- The Golden Guard’s owl motif doesn’t hint at a pre-existing connection to the Clawthornes, but rather a future one… Maybe he’ll end up being adopted by Eda, the way Luz was? I’d love to see the Golden Guard become an evil older sibling who’s protective of Luz…
I ADORE that trope to death; Evil older brother with bright, younger sister, whom he cares about, and the sister cares for him too, even if it’s complicated because the sister believes in the brother to be better, while the brother doesn’t want to be better, or is at least reluctant about having to change…
I’d love to see another Hugo and Kipo dynamic, and actually… If the Golden Guard parallels Eda, then who’s his Lilith? Could it be Luz herself? I’ve talked before the similarities between Luz and Lilith, as kids who were bullied and struggled with a lack of talent, but made up for it with hard work and ingenuity; They’ll give you a lot of trouble for doing the right thing, but then happily leap at the opportunity if they think someone is improving.
And, as Separate Tides has also shown us; They both grapple with guilt over making Eda suffer, unintentionally to varying degrees. Luz and Lilith both learn that they’re not a burden and that it’s okay to ask for help, and come to terms with their guilt with Eda… If Belos and the Golden Guard are Luz and Eda reversed, then could Luz and the Golden Guard also be Lilith and Luz, reversed?
With the Eda parallel being the older sibling in this scenario… An alternate timeline where Eda and Lilith were the same people, but switched places in birth, and it was EDA who ended up being the cruel and toxic sibling who left the younger feeling demeaned and worthless. I imagine if that were the case, the Golden Guard’s toxicity would occur largely in the beginning, as he acts adversarial to Luz and mocks her, taunts her over Eda’s loss of magic, and her own glyphs no doubt; The Golden Guard doesn’t seem to acknowledge glyphs as a valid form of magic himself.
But then, if he were to get a redemption, the Golden Guard’s tune might change as he matures and learns to treat Luz more kindly… In a way mimicking how Eda really grew to care for Luz, but also the way Eda has begun to reconnect with Lilith, except with the Golden Guard as the one with the baggage and guilt.
And, a redemption might not be too implausible, because… He is literally only sixteen, the same age as Emira and Edric, and likely the same age as Eda when SHE was cursed. Younger than Lilith, when she made the worst mistake of her life, because she didn’t understand the coven system for what it truly was –and who could blame her?- and was grappling with a likely terrible mother in Gwendolyn… The Golden Guard is literally a minor, and possibly an overworked teen prodigy.
After all, the first glimpse of his personality Dana gave us, way back in 2020, was of the Golden Guard admitting that he was tired; And despite his usually cheery personality, all of our glimpses at his face behind the mask (symbolism!) have had him look likely serious and glum… But then again, we don’t see the lower half of his face, so who knows?
Perhaps the Golden Guard is abused and overworked by Belos, kind of like Amity with her parents… The Golden Guard is a child dealing with a very toxic influence, and a huge burden of responsibility no less. And with all the potential connections to Belos as maybe even a literal father, or at least a parental figure, it’s not hard to see why the Golden Guard would turn out so messed up. And the Golden Guard being ‘tired’ could be a connection to how Eda is left exhausted from her curse, too.
So, who knows? Because of his age, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect, or at least hope, for a redemption for this kiddo. But a recent sister show to The Owl House has taught me anything, kids aren’t free from death, and Infinity Train made it clear that you can humanize and sympathize and mourn someone who deserved better, yet ultimately dug their grave and was condemned to a sudden death because of that; All because they didn’t know any better, and really couldn’t have.
And on another note- Maybe the Golden Guard has owl motifs like Eda… Because in a lot of ways, he actually admires her? He admires the Owl Lady, or at least the certain ‘past’ version that others such as Lilith may have brought up… Maybe the Golden Guard seeks to supplant Eda the Owl Lady as The Most Powerful Witch in the Boiling Isles. Maybe he sees himself as Eda, but better, and this rebellious, hot-headed kid feels the need to prove himself by defeating someone he sees himself in.
Maybe the Golden Guard is like Lilith, as someone who wishes Eda could’ve joined the coven system, and he’s disappointed in how all her talent was ‘wasted’ on other things. Maybe the Golden Guard was disappointed in Eda losing her magic, losing further respect for his ‘problematic idol’, and/or he felt some validation and vindication in being a successor to Eda.
Does he hold some grudge? Did the Owl Lady’s power excite him, give the Golden Guard a goal to recklessly challenge and defeat, so he can experience the thrill of victory and add to this feeling of invincibility that teenagers, especially the talented ones, have?
Eda as a kid, and even now, has always been fond of spiting what others say she can’t do, or setting new precedents and accomplishments to prove herself. Maybe the Golden Guard is like that, and hopes to take on the onus of outdoing the Owl Lady; Perhaps he admires Eda, and wishes she could’ve joined a coven like him. As an outside admirer, he mourns Eda’s ‘potential’ in a way similar to Lilith, but different; Because he’s a kid who looks up to her, and not an older sibling that has an actual childhood with Eda. If so, then that’s another dark parallel to Luz;
After all, Luz got frustrated by Eda in Adventures in the Elements. So maybe the Golden Guard is someone who grew resentful of Eda for not living up to the legend he hoped, the image he wanted, sort of like Lilith! I’ll go out on a limb and even suggest him as a past apprentice, who unlike Luz, never learned to be patient and appreciate Eda’s teachings, so he turned to the coven system and Belos for easy gratification. He didn’t want to be challenged… And in that way, the Golden Guard could parallel my speculation on Belos, as also a Dark Luz.
So of course, it makes sense that Belos would recognize this same dilemma in the Golden Guard, and perhaps be sympathetic and take him under his wing for it. Eda might not recognize the Golden Guard because he’s changed a bit himself, is hiding his own identity –Lilith doesn’t seem to know much about the witch beneath the mask either, just the public image and façade- and Eda’s been having memory issues. Maybe this will add to the Golden Guard’s resentment, who knows? He really might just be a rebellious teen who Eda failed, unlike with Luz… And that could add to more envy, perhaps.
At the very least; Dana’s fondness for the Golden Guard takes on a whole new meaning… What with how Eda is pretty much one of, if not THE most favorite character of hers, the one who really jumpstarted this entire show and world to begin with… Having this other character she likes essentially be a canon AU version of that beloved creation, would certainly make a lot of sense! Dana likes Eda, she likes to show us about Young Eda; So a character who IS Young Eda, just on a different path, would likely appeal to her. We’ll see…
I think it’s worth noting that in her art of the Golden Guard, it depicts him as essentially a normal, lazy teenager who’s asking someone else to do his chore for him, while he lounges around to do something else. I could see a young Eda as occasionally fulfilling that role and asking her older sister Lily for a favor- And maybe this could allude to the Golden Guard being frequently exhausted from being overworked himself, hence “I’m tired” and wanting to extend his breaks as much as possible. We’ll just have to wait and see…
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4 Lords Raise Rose AU Ideas
Not a single person asked for this, but that other post where I talk about the 4 lords adopting Rose but still technically being terrible people got way more popular than I expected it to, so, with about 6 shots of tequila in my system and a terrible urge to spit my thoughts out for all the internet to see and judge, I’ve decided to make a follow up post. Here’s how I think the 4 lords would take care of Rose in the event they rebelled against Mother Miranda and decided to raise Rose as their own instead, but like under the cut after a little bit cuz i accidentally went way too fucking hard with this and I don’t want ppl to get mad at me for making them scroll for an hour to get past this post:
First and foremost, I think they’d do it in stages, and what I mean by this is that Rose would essentially be given to a specific Lord for some period of her life, like a couple years, and then when she was deemed old or strong or annoying enough, she’d be moved to a different lord for some period of time and so on and so forth. They would do this because a) they all live in different areas and have shit to do so it’s easier to have Rose live with one lord at a time and then the other lords can just go visit her there from time to time, rather than try to work out a weekly custody schedule which we all know Alcina and Karl would NEVER be able to agree on so let’s not even bother, and b) because each lord would have either some skill or set of knowledge that would make them the best for caring for Rose at that specific point in her life. This way, all the lords have a (somewhat) equal chance to be a part of Rose’s life and teach her something while she’s with them. So with all that in mind now, let’s get down to who would have Rose and at what point in her life.
1. Starting off with infant Rose, I think she’d end up with the Dimitrescu’s for the first few years of her life, and the reason why I think this is because... well, Alcina IS already a mother to 3 girls, and while we don’t know a terrible amount about Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela’s “upbringing” under Alcina, we can gleam and theorize from her notes that, despite their fully grown bodies, the girls could very well have started out with the mental and physical capabilities of infants, and thus needed to be cared for and brought up in a similar manner as infants or children until they reached a certain point where they could officially be considered adults in mentality and ability, not just in physical appearance. So with this in mind, it’s entirely possible that Alcina could have at least some vague idea of how to care for an infant child through her experiences with the bug sisters; perhaps there’s some gaps in her knowledge, but if nothing else I imagine Alcina would be an infant Rose’s best shot at surviving infancy if only because the other 3 are so incompetent on how to care for a baby that Alcina looks like an expert in comparison. Not to mention that, of the possible locations for an infant to be raised, I do genuinely think that castle Dimitrescu would be the safest place for Rose to be kept during this vulnerable part of her life. Not only that but if Alcina has actually come to care for Rose as though she were one of her own daughters, then she would absolutely spoil Rose rotten with all the nicest clothes and fanciest toys, things that a small infant wouldnt be able to appreciate but would show that she’s loved and cared for nonetheless, and don’t even get me started on the bug sisters, I could see them fawning over Rose for hours on end, playing with her, singing to her, telling her stories of all the man-things they’ve gotten to play with today, and so much more. Overall, Rose would just be the most spoiled and pampered little baby with the Dimitrescus and there’s no changing my mind about this. The only thing I’m struggling to wrap my head around is how they’d feed her, since I doubt a small infant would take very well to blood wine and human flesh. I suppose it wouldn’t be terribly outrageous for them to hire a wet nurse/nanny to care for Rose during the day while the other Dimitrescus go about their daily duties, and when Rose is finally old enough to be introduced to solid food (I.e. fried human flesh cubes) they could do what they always do and turn the nurse into wine too, I guess. It’s not a solid idea but it’s more plausible than anything else I thought of so it’ll work!
2. After spending about 3 years with the Dimitrescus, Rose would then be moved to the Beneviento house. Now, If u don’t know anything about 3 year olds, then you’re probably ignorant to the fact that they are some of the craftiest, sneakiest, and most coniving groups of people to exist on this planet. 3 year olds are masters at getting into and touching just about anything and everything u don’t want them to touch, and worst of all, u won’t realize what they’re doing until they’ve already done it and left a huge mess behind, so while the Dimitrescus love and adore Rose dearly, they know it’s sadly time to hand her over when they find her sitting on top of a pile of dead bodies playing with a metal scythe in the dungeons. Once Rose is dropped off at the Beneviento house, I imagine Donna is her usual stoic self the first few weeks Rose is with her. She’s not cold or distant necessarily, in fact she’s quite happy that it’s finally her turn with precious baby Rose, but Donna isn’t exactly known for being outwardly expressive herself (and even Angie isn’t being quite as forward as she normally is), so things are quiet and peaceful for the first little while that Rose is under her care. It’s not until Rose takes an interest in her doll Angie, and more importantly the things that Donna can do with Angie, that things really start getting fun. By the end of Rose’s first month in the Beneviento house she and Donna are the best of friends and often spend their days either playing dress up and make pretend with Donna’s extensive doll collection, or playing elaborate games of cat and mouse, where Donna will set up lots of puzzles throughout the house for Rose to find and solve (I.e. rose has to match her dress to the doll with the same one as her to find a map telling her which kitchen cabinet Donna hid the chocolate in, or something like that), but be careful little Rose, Angie has been trying to get her hands on that chocolate all day, and if u take too long, she’ll find the map first and eat all the chocolate without saving you a single piece. Just silly little puzzles with enough at stake to engage the mind of a curious 3 year old, but never enough to put rose in any actual danger. Donna is nothing if not a watchful caretaker, so she makes sure she has sight of Rose at all times, occasionally giving her a hint if she’s struggling, and perhaps occasionally making things harder if that day’s puzzle is proving too easy for her. Overall, Rose’s time with Donna, while not as grand and luxurious as the Dimitrescus, was still a fun and enriching experience for the young girl, and there’s nobody in this world who thinks that Donna’s scar is cool more than Rose.
3. After another 3 years with Donna, Rose is now 6 years old and officially far too good at puzzle solving for Donna to keep up with. No matter what she tries or how hard she makes it, Rose just keeps blazing through the puzzles at an almost alarming rate, making it clear that Rose is desperately in need of not only a change in scenery, but also a change in education, and this is where Salvatore finally comes in. After leaving the Beneviento house, I think the next logical place for Rose to stay would be with Salvatore, who, with lore hinting at him perhaps being a scholarly man of some kind, would basically act as her elementary school teacher throughout the duration of her stay. Now, to be fair, Rose could have gone to Heisenburg’s factory, but Heisenberg outright refused to take her and the other 3 lords decide that the factory is simply too dangerous for Rose rn, who thus far hasn’t shown any signs of being anything other than a normal human girl with no noticeable abilities (save for a smart mouth and a terrifying habit of popping up when least expected, a habit she mostly uses to mess with Heisenberg, much to his disdain and Lady Dimitrescu’s delight), so it is to the mutant fish man’s unimaginable delight that he is unanimously voted Roses next caretaker, and the one responsible for her basic education. Despite his initial excitement however, when Rose is finally dropped off at the windmills by Donna, Salvatore realizes that he’s not 100% sure what to do with Rose now that he has her. He’d like to get started on her education right away but at the same time he’s so fearful of Rose hating him because of his disgusting appearance that he kind of just... avoids her entirely at first. He’s never far away from the little girl and is always ready to jump to her rescue should she need it, but other than that Salvatore seldom allows himself to be seen for the first month that Rose is with him, the only sign of him still being around being the platefuls of food that mysteriously appear in Rose’s room 3 times a day, as well as the occasional shiny trinket Salvatore found and thought Rose would like. At first, rose doesn’t seem to mind being left entirely to her own devices, but after every stone, log, and rotting fish corpse within 5 miles of the lake has been turned over and thoroughly examined, Rose decides she’s had quite enough of her Uncle Sal ignoring her, prompting the headstrong little girl to go looking for him herself. She finds Salvatore hiding underneath a patch of floating algae not far away from where she was playing and all but demands that the mutant man come out of the water and give her something to do or she’d tell Mother on him. Salvatore, shocked by the small child’s fearlessly blunt request, hesitates, not wanting to frighten Rose, but ultimately relents, crawling out of the water and timidly suggesting that he teach her how to read and write. Rose quickly agrees, seeming totally unbothered by Salvatore’s grotesque appearance, and the two quickly move to the schoolroom that had been set up specifically for Rose, where Salvatore spends hours upon hours a day teaching Rose everything he knows, filling the little girl’s head up first with the basics, letters and words, then numbers and simple equations, followed later by historical dates and time periods, algebraic formulas, and classic literature analysis, then biology, chemistry, physics, astrology, calculus, ecology, and so much more. Basically, anything there is to know, Salvatore knows at least something about it and he’ll make sure that Rose knows about it too. In the 3 years Rose spends with Salvatore she goes from already sharp as a whip, to being smarter than most adults even, and Salvatore takes immense pride in how intelligent and knowledgable Rose becomes thanks to his surprisingly effective teaching style. Overall, as a caretaker, Salvatore is pretty weird and doubts himself a lot, but Rose thinks he’s funny and loves learning from him so they get along very well and she loves him very dearly! He probs teaches her to swim and fish too.
4. So another 3 years come and go with incredible speed, and its with great sadness on Salvatore’s part that Heisenberg finally comes banging on the fish man’s door, all but demanding that he now be given his turn with Rose. Now, personally, I can see several different arguments being raised by the other 3 lords over why its a terrible idea to let a 9 year old anywhere near Heisenberg, much less be given into his care fully. After about 9 years of seeing his siblings paling around with the constantly growing child, and looking like theyre having the time of their lives all the while, however, Karl decides that perhaps there’s more to this little girl than he originally thought, and, with his interest now piqued (or at the very least looking forward to pissing the other 3 off for entertainment purposes), that its only fair that he be given a turn with her now too, seeing as how he’s the only one who hasn’t been given the chance to be her caretaker yet. This naturally does NOT go over well with the other 3 lords. Alcina all but threatens to kill Karl should he step so much as within 10 ft of Rose, while Donna pipes up and demands to know what his sudden interest in Rose is. Even Salvatore, who is quick to flinch away from direct conflict, goes as far as to harshly point out the plethora of times Karl had outright denied their previous attempts to get him to engage with Rose, so why on earth would they hand her over to him now when he’s previously shown to have absolutely no interest in her? After a long spout of yelling between the 4 siblings, an agreement is reached, wherein Rose herself will be given the chance to decide whether she wants to go with Heisenberg, or whether she’ll return to one of the other 3 lords for the time being. It is to Alcina, Donna, and Salvatore’s absolute horror however, that Rose enthusiastically agrees to go with her Uncle Karl to live in his factory, and with the deal already set, the other lords can do nothing to stop her from going. The trip to drop off Rose at heisenberg’s factory is a long and arduous one, especially for Salvatore, who sobs the whole way there about Rose forgetting about him despite the young girl’s insistence that she’d visit. The first thing Karl does after officially having Rose handed over to him, is give her an extensive list of all the places in the factory in which she is under no circumstances permitted to enter without his permission (which basically only leaves the control room and the old storage closet that acts as her bedroom as viable places for Rose to go and explore). The second thing Karl does is dump her in her new storage closet bedroom and then hightail it for his workshop to work on whatever sick and twisted amalgamation he’s got cooked up this time around. At first, Rose isn’t terribly bothered by this, since she’s used to having something of an “adjustment period” when she’s with a new caretaker, but unfortunately for her, this adjustment period lasts a hell of a lot longer than the others did, and by the time 3 months of almost no meaningful contact with Karl, Rose decides to take matters into her own hands and ascends into the depths of the factory despite the express orders not to do so. Now, going back to the idea that the 4 lords are still pretty terrible people, I doubt Rose has been kept ignorant to the less savory aspects of her caretaker’s lives, and tbh she probably doesn’t think anything of the fact that the Dimitrescus makes wine out of the blood of virgin women or that Salvatore still does cadou experiments (and had her help on occasion), but I imagine even Rose would find the projects Karl works on to be at least a little
4, cont. gruesome and horrifying in nature, especially since Heisenberg is the one she knows the least about. However, instead of turning Rose away from Heisenberg, these terrifying metal creatures she sees locked up only spark her already insatiable curiosity, and by the time she finally tracks Karl down, Rose is all but trembling to learn more about this horrifyingly fascinating metal world. Unfortunately, Karl is not nearly as happy to see Rose as Rose is to see him, and the engineer all but grabs Rose by the scruff of her neck and drags her back up to the control room, yelling and screaming at her all the while about how she was explicitly instructed not to enter these parts of the factory without his permission. Needless to say that Rose does not enjoy this treatment and immediately lashes out, half out of anger and half out of confusion as to why Karl was treating her like this. He was the one who wanted her here in the first place, so why the hell was he just ignoring her now? It didn’t make any sense and it was starting to piss Rose off, so naturally the only thing left for her to do in order to solve this complicated situation would be to continue to disobey Karl until he either gave up and sent her back to one of the other lords, or finally payed some damn attention to her for once. So that’s exactly what she did. Every single day Rose left her room (which Karl kept telling himself he needed to put a lock on, but never did cuz he’s an idiot) and descended down into the depths of the factory looking for something ogle at or tinker with, and every single day Karl would track her down wherever she’d managed to get to and throw her back upstairs threatening to feed her to the lycans if she did it again. This incredibly frustrating cycle continued on for the better part of the next month or so, finally coming to a head when Rose managed to wander into the part of the factory where the... less than successful experiments got put whenever Karl doesn’t have any further use for them but is feeling too lazy to kill them off himself. Long story short, Rose runs into a Sturm that chases her around the factory, causing all manner of mayhem and destruction, and would have torn her to ribbons had it not been for Karl, who jumped in at the last second and was able to fend the damn thing off long enough for Rose to get the ever living fuck out and back up to the control room where it’s safe. There’s a lot of loud noises and explosions coming from deep within the factory that last for what feels like an eternity, but Rose doesn’t dare venture out again until everything has gone eerily quiet and a deep sense of worry has settled in the pit of her stomach over what had become of her latest caretaker. Turns out the Sturm had recognized its creator and, after watching its initial prey escape because of said creator, quickly decided that it fucking hated Karl with every fiber of its being and wanted him dead if it was the last thing it’s propellers did. Now, we all know that Karl is a big strong boy who’s more than capable of handling his own creations and taking down strong enemies, but the Sturm is a creation that even he struggles to control on good days and today is decidedly not a good day so not only does Karl not have the slightest bit of control over the death machine trying to kill him, but its also a lot stronger than Karl initially thought and apparently not picky about the method which causes Karl’s death, which is evidenced by the nearly dead Sturm ramming itself into a power generator as a final act of defiance and nearly blowing up the whole factory and everybody inside. Heisenberg is able to contain the explosion somehow but not without considerable damage to himself first. Rose is, naturally, quite horrified to find Karl passed out in the elevator that had taken him up from the lower levels of the factory where the explosion was, skin burnt nearly to a crisp in certain areas and blood pooling from just about every part of him, and immediately heads over to try and help her injured caretaker.
4, cont. again cuz I physically can’t stop myself. Now, I imagine that any normal 9 year old probably wouldnt be able to handle this sort of situation in any meaningful way, but i think we can all agree that Rose is the furthest thing from normal (especially considering who raised her) and has probably seen enough blood and gore to not be terribly freaked out by it, but this is where things get a little speculative because we don’t know what Rose’s powers are exactly but we do know from the final cutscene that she does have them, perhaps even a plethora of abilities, and I like to think that some of those powers are related to Ethan’s superhuman healing capabilities, but unlike Ethan however, who from what we’ve seen could only heal himself, Rose can actually heal other people (tho this isn’t something she’s aware of at this point in time). The second the elevator door opens to reveal, what looks to be, a half-dead Karl slumped over in the corner, Rose panics and runs to him, doing everything she can think of save for maybe grabbing him by the collar or slapping him across the face, to try and get Karl to wake up, except nothing works, he wont wake up no matter how hard Rose tries and i imagine this must be incredibly distressing for Rose who never intended for something like this to happen or for her caretaker to die because he had to protect her even tho he told her not to go down there because its dangerous and anything down there WOULD kill her if given the opportunity. Anyways Rose is now full on sobbing on top of Karl like only a 9 year old who just discovered that her actions have consequences can, but unbeknownst to her (and technically Karl cuz he’s a little busy bleeding out all over the floor) Karl’s wounds are slowly beginning to close, the burns on his face and hands shift from a bright red to a dark brown before crusting over and flaking off, and even his breathing, which had been labored and inconsistent at first, began to level out slightly. Karl woke up not long after that and was surprised to find that a) he was still alive, which was cool, b) he was injured but not in indescribable pain, also cool, and c) there was a literal sobbing child all but sitting on top of him, which is definitely not something Karl was expecting but he supposed he’s been met with worse things upon waking up after almost dying so why question it. After taking a moment to gather their bearings, the two return to the safer parts of the factory to rest and recover and for the most part this little incident of their’s goes largely unspoken, with Rose not exactly in the mood to talk about how her disobedience nearly got herself and Karl killed, and Karl being too fucking tired to go after her about it, especially since she seems to have learned her lesson. The only downside to this whole thing is that now Karl has a busted up fuckin leg thats gonna take an eternity to heal even for him, and with so much work to still do he’s more or less forced to drag Rose around the factory and use her like the annoying assistant he never wanted (except he did want her, thats how this whole fucking mess started, you lug), except that Rose, who is more than used to playing lab assistant from her time with Salvatore, quickly proves to be a rather capable and handy person to have around, if only because she knows the difference between a philips and a flathead screwdriver even better than he does. An amicable, if still slightly awkward peace settles over Heisenberg’s factory once Karl starts actively engaging with Rose and giving her something to do on a daily basis, even if its just standing around watching him work and occasionally having her questions about what he’s doing answered. It doesn’t take very long after that for Karl to begin realizing that perhaps throwing a huge tantrum to get Rose to come here only to ditch her upstairs by herself for 3 months might not have been the smartest (or most considerate) thing he’s ever done, and even goes as far as to (kinda) apologize to Rose for being such a dick to her since she arrived.
4, last one i swear. Rose forgives him, though not before adding that she already knew he was an asshole from Alcina, which earns her a halfhearted swipe from Karl that Rose easily dodges with a childish giggle. From that point on their relationship improves astronomically as Karl finally gives in and teaches Rose about about engineering and everything else that goes into making the metal horrors that he’s known for. Karl is shocked at how quickly Rose picks up on the trade, getting to the point where Karl wonders if he should start giving Rose her own projects to work on, but quickly rolls his eyes and groans when he remember that Salvatore was the one responsible for her education up until this point, the mere thought of having to give compliments to that “moronic freak” for giving Rose such a good educational foundation makes him want to vomit despite how secretly impressed he is. Overall, Rose’s time with Heisenberg starts out shaky, very shaky even, but after a bit of disaster and some swallowing of the pride on Karl’s part, they end up growing quite close and have a nice fun Uncle and martass Neice dynamic. They make a good team and Karl does genuinely enjoy having a little assistant around to help him with his projects, even if Rose can sound a bit too much like Alcina on some days for his liking.
5. 3 more years come and go and now Rose is a strong and healthy 12 years old, perhaps riddled with a few more scars and smearings of ash and motor oil across her skin than when she first arrived but still strong and capable nonetheless. Going back to that first statement however, this of course means that it’s time for the other 3 lords to come banging on Karl’s door for a change, all but demanding that Rose be handed back over to them. Karl of course refuses, telling them all to fuck off and that Rose didn’t want a leave the factory, so upon realization that all 4 lords were gathered here with the intention of taking Rose back to live with them indefinitely, a fight immediately breaks out between the 4 siblings, as each one makes their case as to why Rose should be returned to them and not the other 3, which of course none of the 4 lords can come to an agreement about because they ALL want Rose to stay with them. So after another long and pointlessly arduous argument, Alcina finally breaks, proclaiming that they’d be here for all eternity of they didn’t make a decision now, and that, like the first time the 4 siblings argued over whether Rose should go with Heisenberg or return to one of the previous lords, Rose would be the one to decide which of her four caretakers she would return to. The agreement is made reluctantly, mostly on the part of Salvatore, Donna, and Heisenberg, but there was seemingly no other way for them to come to a decision, so it would unfortunately have to be up to Rose to decide which of her 4 caretakers she wants to stay with permanently. Rose is quickly brought before the 4 lords and explained the situation, before being given some time to herself to think and make her final decision. A tense and uneasy silence falls over the 4 lords as they wait for the little girl, who they had shown an uncharacteristic amount of mercy and time and devotion and love in the 12 years since Mother Miranda had brought her to the village with the intention of using her to revive an already lost and long-gone baby that she never would have gotten back no matter how hard she tried. Although they refused to admit it to one another, the lords all secretly knew that Rose had wormed her way into each of their cold, dead hearts, reviving an aspect of their humanity that they’d all thought had been lost ages ago. Rose came to the village bringing with her a wave of death and destruction, and yet throughout her childhood she has brought them nothing but light and life, illuminating their previously dark and desolate existences. The 4 lords loved their Rose very dearly and desperately wanted her to be happy, yet each of them possesses a dark and selfish desire to have Rose pick them over the other 3, to come and live with them forever and fill the hole deep inside them that they never knew needed filling. After a short while, Rose comes back out and stands before her 4 beloved caretakers, looking around nervously as she picks at her fingernails. The silence is thick and heavy as the 4 lords stare at the young girl, waiting with bated breaths for her to give her final verdict. Rose continues to say nothing as tears begin to flow from her eyes, sliding down her cheeks in thick streams as the girl begins to sob, dropping her head and clenching her dress. The 4 lords look between one another in confusion, unsure of what to do with this sudden burst of tears. Rose tearfully admits that she can’t and doesn’t want to choose which of the 4 lords she wants to live with permanently because she loves them all very much and wants to be able to see and live with all of them, like they’ve done thus far. Although the lords detest the idea of having to share Rose with anyone, they reluctantly come to an agreement for the girl’s sake, deciding that they would continue with the arrangement they’ve had thus far, only that Rose would switch between caretakers every 3 months instead of every 3 years, giving rose plenty of opportunities to see each of her caretakers just like she wanted. From then on, Rose continues to live her life
5, cont. growing up and learning more and more from each of her beloved caretakers. Although Rose would likely never know what a normal life looks like, living with 4 criminally insane monsters in the remote mountain village in Romania, it would be impossible to say that she wouldn’t have a happy life despite that. Perhaps its because the girl simply doesn’t know any better, so she doesn’t have the ability to see just how messed up her life and her 4 caretakers really are, but i imagine that Rose probably wouldn’t care very much to learn even if she had the opportunity. She’s a happy little girl living a strange but enjoyable life with the only family she’ll ever need. What more could she possibly ask for?
6. As for how Mother Miranda would play into this whole scenario I’ve just drunkenly spat out, im honestly not 100% sure. Ive seen some people suggesting that MM just kinda chills and lets the lords do what they want with Rose, but tbh I honestly don’t see that happening in this universe. MM would still have been just as crazy and driven to get Eva back as she was in canon, so i doubt she’d willingly standby and let her “false children” take away her one shot of getting her real child back simply because they didn’t want to hurt her, i just don’t personally see that happening. The two most likely scenarios i can come up with is that the Lords either banded together and look Miranda on together, their combined forces being enough to take her down and kill her, OR, Ethan is the one to take down MM like he did in canon but he passes out before he can get to rose, giving the lords (who he hadn’t ended up killing but just escaping from i guess) the opportunity to slide in, grab rose, and hightail it out of there, leaving Ethan’s body to be retrieved by Chris, who, due to not seeing or hearing Rose anywhere, believes that Rose must have been accidentally killed along with MM, which he later tells to Ethan and Mia. Regardless of how MM gets taken out of the picture (or if she’s given room to potentially come back later), the 4 lords retreat with Rose and begin the whole cycle I explained up above, but i did want to briefly address how I saw MM fitting into all of this since she is a vital part of the original story and the biggest obstacle to the lords having anything to do with Rose.
Anyways, that was so much longer than I intended it to be but I had so much fun with it just because it gave me the opportunity to spit some fun ideas and potential plot points out about this cool AU that I like and hope someone does SOMETHING with, please god someone do it, I’d do it myself but i have enough projects at the moment unfortunately. If you managed to make it all the way to the bottom, thank you for reading all of that, I appreciate it, and I hope you enjoyed at least some parts of this, and maybe even agree with some of the things I said. Feel free to leave your own ideas in the comments, I’d love to read them and hopefully if enough people like this maybe i will actually do something with it. Who knows? I certainly dont. Anyways thank you for reading all this, i hope you have a great day, and maybe ill see you around in another post. Bye!!! <3
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not a homecoming, but something like it
There are two men arguing in front of her home.
This is a nuisance, but not an uncommon one. Her neighbors are colorful and loud, so she’s used to people being in her way. Gente estorbosa. Normally she would’ve simply pushed past them to get to her gate. However, these are no neighbors of hers, and that makes her hesitate.
The two men are not speaking Antivan, but she knows enough languages to follow along, even with the street’s lively background chatter.
“This is a mistake,” one of them says.
“At least it’ll be in character, then,” the other replies.
Adelmar shifts the grocery basket on her hip, waiting. They’ll move on their own soon enough, she suspects. Or perhaps they’ll notice her and confront her for eavesdropping. Oh! Then they’d get an earful.
“I am being serious. Why would she remember me, hm?”
“You remember her.”
“That doesn’t mean anything—”
“I think it means more than you expected it to. I think that’s why you’re trying to back out at the last minute.”
Adelmar is not sure what the men are arguing about. She’d assumed their relationship to be contentious but now the shorter of the two steps close to his companion, looping an arm around his waist in an unmistakably supportive and affectionate gesture.
“If you really think this is a mistake, then let’s go, vhenan.”
Neither of them moves.
Adelmar clears her throat. Fascinating as the conversation is, she doesn’t have all day. She has dinner to get started, and her basket is getting heavy.
They turn to look at her, and she drops everything.
Tinned coffee and spices, parcels of lamb, and oranges, which roll out across the cobbled street.
“¿Zevran?” Adelmar’s voice is uncertain. She never expected to speak that name again, but those eyes and that hair…
“Zevran… Chivito. No puedo creerlo.”
The man Zevran is with has begun to pick up her groceries, although somewhat haphazardly, dropping one orange for every three he grabs. “You see?” he calls out, darting after a can and swiping it before it gets rolled over by a cart. “I knew she’d recognize you!”
And Zevran, the little boy she’d read stories to in the brothel, the same brown eyes, just taller, smiles at her like she’s singing a song and he’s in her lap again.
The scene, with all its noise and shouting in the background, and fruit rolling this way and that, feels briefly absurd. Is she imagining this? She has to make sure. She needs to just look at him. Stepping across a gap of decades (but it’s really only a few feet), she reaches for Zevran. She touches his face. Notices his tattoo. Frowns.
“Ay,” she murmurs, removing her hand. It is him.
He bursts out laughing.
“Qué gusto me da verte.”
Close by and with the biggest smile, Hamal Mahariel watches, holding the basket with all the groceries Adelmar has dropped.
It had come up in conversation, casually, a few days earlier. They had been investigating a mark, and Zevran, in the midst of planning and preparing, mentioned, “You know, I grew up near here.”
Hamal blinked. Sometimes he suspected that growing up meant something different for Zevran than it did for him. Did he mean he’d become a Crow here, just thirteen when he’d first killed?
When asked to clarify Zevran gestured at the map before them. He pointed a finger just a few centimeters from their present location.
“Rialto. I lived there before the Crows… acquired me.”
“Mm,” Hamal said, mulling it over. It was always a careful balance on his part to gauge whether it was alright to press for information, or better to let Zevran share at his own pace. But he was curious. Zevran seldom spoke of his early years.
“I’d love to see it, if you’re up to visiting,” he said finally.
“Perhaps. If we have time.” Zevran smiled warmly at him. “But really, amor, the place means very little to me. I have no childhood home, unless you count the brothel my mother worked at. I had no family. No friends. None that would remember me, anyway.”
Then why bring it up? Hamal wondered.
“Consider it a sentimental request from your husband,” he said.
Zevran rolled up the map quietly. He planted a quick kiss on Hamal’s cheek.
“That, I can do.”
Adelmar’s home is small and welcoming, with a tiny patio separating the living area from the kitchen and washroom. Her husband is away for a few days. Her children, grown and gone. She has all the time in the world. She wants to hear everything.
“How did you find me?” she asks, looking at Zevran with wonder. A part of her still can’t believe he’s here.
“We happened to be in Rialto. I… asked around.”
“You went to El milagro,” Adelmar guesses.
Zevran gestures noncommittally.
“I haven’t been there for years and years. It feels like a lifetime ago. I’m surprised anyone remembered, or knew enough to send you my way,” she said. “I’m surprised you looked for me at all…”
Adelmar takes a deep breath. She’s stirring up memories—old thoughts and feelings, few of them pleasant, otherwise she would find it nostalgic.
Quickly, she catches herself and shakes off the gloom. She sets a hand on Zevran’s shoulder.
“But I’m glad you did. I really am so happy to see you. Look at how you’ve grown.”
“I wasn’t sure if I should come,” Zevran admits. “My husband convinced me. He’s nosy. It is why I keep him around.”
He chances a glance at Hamal, who is staying well out of the way. His Antivan still being rather rusty, he’s left Zevran and Adelmar to their conversation, and is currently helping chop vegetables for a stew.
“Well I’m glad for that,” Adelmar says, looking between the two men and beaming. Little Zevran—at her kitchen table and married no less!
“I never forgot you, Zevran,” she tells him. “If I had moved a little faster, saved a little more money, I would have left and brought you with me. You were so smart. You were always moving, running around, playing. In the end, it seems we both escaped to better circumstances,” she says finally, closing her eyes and sighing.
“Thank the Maker,” Zevran adds solemnly. Adelmar smiles, pleased at his manners.
“I’m so glad you’re doing well. So tell me,” she scoots closer and looks at him eagerly, “What sort of life did you have, after you were adopted?”
“Adopted?”
By the kitchen counter, Hamal catches the subtle edge in Zevran’s tone. He pauses, holding the knife in his hand as a lull falls over the kitchen table, but he doesn’t know enough Antivan to guess what’s happened.
What’s happened is this: Zevran and Adelmar came from the same place, and know enough about that life to instantly understand that a lie has been told.
“Oh,” Adelmar breathes after a moment. “You… you weren’t adopted.”
Zevran lets out a laugh. It’s his ‘stalling’ laugh, and now Hamal is looking over, arms crossed, searching his face for clues.
“I was not adopted,” he says. “But do not trouble yourself over that.” Then, smoothly redirecting, he gets up and locks eyes with Hamal.
“Shall I boil some water?” he asks, switching out of Antivan.
The tense moment is gone. Hamal nods, glancing at Adelmar. “I’ll start the fire.”
There’s a reason why the kitchen is kept apart from the rest of the house. While the soup simmers, they bring their visit to the adjacent patio, where a cool breeze offers relief. Tree branches from the outside—from a tamarind tree growing in the street—have stretched out over the wall and blessed Adelmar’s patio with shade and fruit.
Hamal makes a face when he tastes it. Glancing at Zevran, he holds his gaze and waits just long enough to make it clear he’s less than partial to the flavor.
“So delicious, vhenan.”
Zevran laughs. “Wait until you try it in drink form.”
“If you make it, I am sure I will enjoy it.”
Adelmar, knowing she’s touched upon a shared hurt between her and Zevran, makes up for it by talking about anything else. She is particularly interested in their wedding, and is scandalized when she hears they’ve only been married a few weeks.
“I missed it!” she exclaims.
“It was quite sudden, my friend,” Zevran says, as if there’d been a chance of her attending. “Spontaneous. Just the two of us. Very romantic.”
Hamal taps the handcrafted silver band around his ring finger. He gestures at Zevran. “Él lo hizo,” he says in the most accented Antivan ever. “Muy, muy… bello.”
Dinner is delicious. Despite some language barriers, their conversation is easy and effortless. It’s also, intentionally, vague. Adelmar learns that they met in Ferelden, that they’re on an important journey, and that the journey is a dangerous one.
Most importantly, she also learns that Zevran’s heart has survived its rocky passage into adulthood, whole, if not unscathed. The core of the little boy she’d known in the brothel is there, even if he himself does not realize it. It brings her immense comfort.
The visit ends all too quickly, and though she asks them to stay the night, she isn’t surprised when they decline.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Hamal tells Zevran, who relays the message to Adelmar.
“You and Hamal are welcome, always,” Adelmar assures him. “Will you visit again?”
“If it is less dangerous,” Zevran says. “We were not followed here. But repeated visits might be difficult. Risky.”
“I understand. Not right away, then. When you can. We still have so much to talk about.”
“I would like that,” Zevran agrees.
They share one last hug, the three of them, and Adelmar watches them slip into the night.
“I need to brush up on my Antivan,” Hamal says. “But I enjoyed meeting her.”
“She liked you a lot,” Zevran says, smiling. Hamal laughs.
“You talked about me?”
“Of course. I had to show you off.” He winks at him. Then, with a soft intake of breath, Zevran looks away with his brow furrowed, the lines of his tattoo tense.
“… They told her I’d been adopted. All these years, and she had no idea. I’m almost sorry she had to find out otherwise.”
They’ve traveled for hours, leaving the city behind. Bright points of light shine overhead. The night sky of Antiva smells of jasmine and the distant sea.
“That’s awful,” Hamal says, looking at him.
“What a farce,” Zevran says bitterly. “Just like everything the Crows do. Operating in the open, but hidden from view. Buying children and lives while people look the other way.” Earnestly, his brown eyes black in the dark, he shakes his head. “It must end. It must.”
Hamal touches the lines of his tattoo, calloused fingers grounding him.
“Ma nuvenin, Zevran Arainai. It will.”
~
A short piece to introduce my OC, Adelmar Provencio. If you ever read my WIP For Suffering is Such a Part, you’ve met her through flashbacks already. While I love the idea of Zevran taking down the Crows alone, please consider, Zevran taking down the Crows with the support of a community, strengthened by the bonds he’s made in his life...
Adelmar plays a further role in the story, so hopefully I can write more for her!
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Running away
a/n not really sure where this is situated so you can just put it wherever you want in the story \_(~-~)_/ also Azula might be off character but i dont care really
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After fleeing the Fire Nation's land you found yourself in a small fishing village. Filled with flowers in spring and sunlight in the summer, with piles of leaves in autumn and a tad of snow in winter. Just a hint of whiteness.
The last thing you would've expected from your travels was to end up here, having somewhat of a normal life, filled with joy. The only thing you would've changed was your last conversation with a certain someone.
“You used to have long hair,” a familiar but distant voice said, as you turned around.
"You used to be shorter," you said, face as serious as you could.
With a still straight face she said, "I could have you executed for that."
"Only if you can catch me," you finally broke a smile.
"True," Azula said, smiling as well.
"What brings you to this lovely and remote area of the world," you asked, pulling some things off the table.
"I was searching for someone. They owe me a goodbye," she said playfully.
You put some water in a kettle, "I believe they said goodbye already."
"Did they?"
"I gave you a letter, it's more than I did to most," you defended.
"You didn't give me a letter."
"Well, I hid it in your room. You found it, you can't lie to me Azula," you laughed.
She tried to maintain a serious face but dropped it soon as well, "I did find it."
"I couldn't exactly leave it laying around, not with everything that was happening."
"I understand," she nodded. "I just wish you had given it to me."
"I thought of it, but it was late. I had to ninja my way for it, I'm very proud of that," you said.
"Because of the guards?"
"Yeah, that and the fact that everyone had my face in a reward poster…"
She clasped her hands together and nodded.
"Why are you still standing, Zula?" You said bringing a kettle of tea to the table and sitting down. "Get comfortable, do you want anything else?"
"No, it's fine," she said, shifting in her spot.
"Is everything okay?"
"Of course. Why wouldn't it be," she asked in a paranoid tone.
"No reason," you said as she sat down. "Did you really come all this way just to get a goodbye?"
"Don't be silly, y/n. It's on the way in my travels," she lied.
It had been too long since she last saw you, and the way your voice strained in your throat took her off balance. Perhaps this was how you'd always spoken, but she didn't think so. Maybe she had just grown too paranoid.
"Where are you going?" You asked.
"Oh, let's not speak of that. How are you?"
The question rocked you off your place, but you managed not to show it.
"Well, I'm doing well. There's not much to do around here but fishing, so I do that, and sell that as well. I'm growing this tree in the back, it used to have a torn branch and it was falling off, but now it's looking good," you explained. "Sorry, you're probably bored by this." You said, knowing Azula wasn't one to be interested in the common occurrences of life.
"No, continue," she dismissed. And as you raised your eyebrow asked, "Please."
"Well, there is also a small dragon-moose that comes around every now and then, searching for food. I tend to leave a pot of fresh water and some leftovers for him." You paused to sip on your tea, "Other than that it's all pretty calm. There's mostly old people here, so no one asks many questions. They usually tell stories to me, not the other way around, which is good."
It was good, Azula thought. If you were still in hiding, even if you weren't in Fire Nation soil, it was good for people not to ask many questions.
"How do you know it's the same dragon-moose?" She found herself asking, much to her own surprise.
You were taken a bit aback by the question but answered anyway. "Oh, he has a little white spot in between the eyes. Plus he always waits for me to sit down before he eats the food. I don't know why, really."
She smiled, again to her surprise. How simple your life was, and how content with it you sounded. All you did was fish, feed animals and listen to old people's stories, and yet you looked like the happiest person in the world.
“It sounds wonderful,” she simply replied.
“Yeah… You sure you're fine?" You asked, concerned. It had been some time since you last saw her, but she didn't use to ask this many questions.
“You have nothing to worry about, y/n. I promise," she nodded.
"Okay… Do you plan on staying?"
"Would you like me to stay?"
"I'm asking so I know how much food I should make, you don't have to stay."
"If you want me to stay I'll stay," she stated.
You blinked in surprise, not expecting that. "Uh, yeah, I would love that," you smiled. "That would be great."
She nodded once again, this time with a smile plastered on her face. She thought about staying there, in your little house by the sea.
Things would be so easy if she just had one more chance with you.
But she had Zuko and his friends on her heels, and it was better to leave you out of Fire Nation problems. One last dinner with you, that was all she needed.
When you woke up next morning with the house silent you knew she was gone, and when you walked into the kitchen and saw the note you hoped she was safe.
A little ‘thank you’ was all you had, and it was all you’d need.
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One More Time
Summary: Your touch was addictive, your scent intoxicating. He wants that back so badly, but he needs another chance. Just one more time.
pairing: Seokjin x female reader
rating: GA
genre: angst, mild fluff
warnings: pining, heartbreak, only mentions of sex, but everything very sfw
wc: 3k
member: Rid || @taegularities
a/n: Hello! Back with the second fic in the Bouquet Collab series. Each one of us chose a flower and wrote a fanfic around the meaning of it! These were just 2 out of 6, so please look forward to many more awesome stories! I also want to thank my amazing betas @biaswreckme and @missgeniality, and further @birbdae for this wonderful banner!!!! 💕 And now let’s dive into the angst!
A single ray of sunshine illuminates the room.
Conveniently, it shines directly onto that one particular plant that stands in this whole apartment, still healthy and green as it refuses to die. Seokjin is fond of it, given the fact that it was you who had gifted him it many weeks ago.
You always used to say that his place is gloomy, grey, in urgent need of redecoration, so he could actually invite someone over and make them feel somewhat homely. After he’d declined all your offers due to laziness, you’d given up - except for the little present that you’d brought him that one significant day.
He remembers it so vividly, the memory still so painfully clear.
At that time, spring was just approaching, birds returning and beautiful flowers blooming. You were a sucker for nature and all its aspects - which was probably the exact reason for the distaste that you felt whenever you entered your friend’s apartment. His way of handling his place was dull, tasteless.
So, when you decided to surprise him with the odd choice of giving him an aloe plant as decoration and present, you weren’t expecting more than a pleasant evening that you’d spend together.
What you didn’t know was that he’d been a nervous wreck for days now, ripping out several strands of his hair before he’d finally decided to tell you the truth about what he caged in his mind. But when he saw you that day, wearing this beautiful sunflower dress, your hair in a bun with only two strands framing your angelic face, words failed him immediately.
Instead, he froze, eyebrows furrowing in fear of what you’d say or do if he confessed to you. And it didn’t take a lot from your side, no - one brush of your finger along his arm, an intense and loving gaze addressing only him, and a beautiful, mesmerizing smile were enough for him to snap before he pulled you in.
When you first felt his full lips on yours, you stared at the way his eyes closed, relishing in and welcoming the moment right away. You needed a second to comprehend what was happening, but once you understood, you felt yourself give in fast, the world becoming blurred and silent.
All you heard were the sweet words he uttered, all you saw was his glistening skin, and all you knew was that you wanted to bathe in this euphoria forever without ever having to let go.
But when you both found yourselves in each other’s arms, covered by nothing but his blanket, you still hadn’t addressed why this had happened and what it meant for you now.
Seokjin didn’t regret this - how could he, if it was with you? But the same old insecurity that plagued his heart and made his chest burn had eventually come back now. Despite having no real evidence or reason, he assumed that you didn’t want what he wanted - you’d never see him as more than a friend that you’d slept with in the heat of the moment.
In that sense, you’d woken up to a pressing awkwardness, him offering breakfast and coffee, but portraying distant nonchalance otherwise. And when you felt like none of this was going to go anywhere, you told him you had to go, finding some kind of excuse to leave.
Since then, an uncomfortable radio silence had found its way between you, and the only thing he had these days to remember you was the pink-orange flower that slowly bloomed on top of his desk.
Lying across the bed, Seokjin opens his eyes with a smile on his face, remembering how he’d looked at you in confusion when he’d first seen you standing at the threshold of his entry, smiling wide with Ally in your hands. Yes, you’d named the plant Ally - always one to give non-living things names.
Wrong.
Ally is very much alive. You’d made that clear that day. Plants take in carbon dioxide and release oxygen - yes, that’s what you’d lectured him with when he’d joked around. His apartment needs some freshness, you’d told him.
Now that he’s inhaling the air around him, it almost feels like he can smell Ally, which is total nonsense of course. He has honestly grown to love this small, spiky thing, especially after finding out the meaning behind it.
Affection.
Something he has felt for a long time now. Affection for the way you scrunch up your nose when you’re annoyed. Affection for the concentrated gaze you adopt when you’re reading a good book. Affection for your words, for the sound of your voice; he loves the sweet, honey-coated, soft tone that he swims in every time you speak.
Seokjin gets up, stretching his limbs and getting dressed when he looks at the clock, noticing that it’s time to go. There’s this boring gathering this evening, organized by some of your colleagues who thought it might be a good idea to come together and strengthen your bond as a student body or whatever.
The only reason he’s going is because he knows you’ll be there. He doesn’t care about getting himself drunk or talking about philosophical theories today - all he wants is to make right what he ruined back then. He just needs to tell you what words float inside his heart, hoping for you to reciprocate his feelings the way you’d responded to his kiss that night.
Gathering all this ardor for you, with only your name on his tongue, he closes his door behind him, summoning all the energy his body can deliver.
You’re easy to find in the small crowd. The room isn’t too filled, the atmosphere peaceful and pleasant when he steps in, running his hand through his soft, brown hair when he sees you. Breathing in and out in a steady rhythm, he approaches you, trying to mask his eagerness, hands pocketed to exude a relaxed demeanor.
When you finally notice the tall figure come closer, recognizing him as none other than the man you’re so in love with, your heart beats just a little faster and you tilt your head in wonder. After barely sparing you a glance in your classes, he has apparently finally decided to give you some attention.
Memories come crashing back; images of your last encounter flooding your mind as you press your tinted lips together, still feeling the phantom touch of his mouth on yours. He still looks the same, but his hair has gotten a little longer, almost covering his eyes entirely before he brushes the bangs away.
“Hey,” he greets, breathing in deep as he sits down in front of you, “long time no talk.”
You nearly counter with a sarcastic remark, but then contain yourself, only shooting him a breathtaking smile. “You’re right. Busy lives. How have you been doing, Jin?”
“Good!” he answers way too fast, clearing his voice before he continues. “I’m doing good. And you?”
“All good. Been writing some more lately.”
Seokjin nods as his eyes widen and his mouth forms an ‘O’, glad to hear that you’ve picked up your hobby of creating beautiful poetry again. He’s even read some of your poems, and you’re truly talented, working around words so easily as if they were his own heart.
“Oh, wow! I- um… I took care of Ally. Do you remember her?” he stumbles over his words, ears growing increasingly red. He’s such a dork and you can’t help but smile a little.
“That’s nice to hear. I bought one of these myself a few days ago. Reminded me of you.”
“That’s great! T-that’s…” What is he trying to say? There must be something that he had prepared, but for the life of his, he can’t remember anymore. All he knows at the sight of you is that he wants to grab you by your waist again, pull you in to press you against him. He wants to feel your lips, move against them in soft, then needy motions.
He just wants you as a whole, if not forever, then once.
Just one more time.
And when he sees you wait for him to speak, fumbling with your fingers with your eyes far away from his, he whispers the word “courage” to himself once before his hand reaches out to grab yours and settle on your palm.
Your gaze shifts to him immediately, his abrupt action causing confusion in you as your heart rate spikes up. But when you see the expression on his face, you feel like you know.
“Y/N, I- we… we need to talk,” he finally declares, his thumb gently ghosting over the skin of your hand, such a simple gesture sending shivers down your spine.
Yes, he doesn’t have to say much. You know what he wants to talk about; after all, there aren’t that many possibilities of what he could want at your first encounter after being somewhat estranged all this time.
“I’m not sure I want-”
“No, please,” he interrupts, squeezing your hand tighter in his. A few weeks ago, his warmth would’ve felt like a safe haven for you, pulling you out from the dark grounds of an ocean if it needed to - but right now, you feel like you’re drowning, like you’re sinking instead of swimming up. “There’s so much I’ve been wanting to tell you and there were so little opportunities to do so.”
Half-fearing, half-anticipating what he’s going to say, you search for the walls you’ve managed to pull up, accepting that Seokjin will never want you in that way. You think you’ve moved on, but now that he’s so close, on the brink of either confessing or rejecting you, you feel tense - and both options aren’t ideal for you right now.
You wait until he’s ready to talk, watch his chest rise and then fall, his eyes meeting yours, but looking like they’d rather not before-
“I’m in love with you,” he finally breathes - and as he mutters his last word, the air around you becomes suffocating, the sounds muffled and his touch heavy.
Is that better than being rejected? You don’t know. You really do not know; and the shake of your head and furrow of your eyebrows show him that something is plaguing you that he might not want to hear.
“Y/N.” His tone is calm, steady, different from your hazardous heart that’s breaking right in front of him, and he doesn’t even see it.
“Why did you not tell me that back then, Jin?” you inquire, pulling your hand away and settling it on your lap. “We slept together. Why did you let me go?”
This… this is awkward. It’s ridiculous. Seokjin shouldn’t have decided to talk about this in a crowd, surrounded by people who know nothing about what’s going on between you two. But now that he did, his heart sinks, his mind in a painful fog, and he puffs out some air, calming himself.
“Let’s leave,” he suddenly suggests, and you think you can see the faintest glint of panic in his dark eyes, “clear it out somewhere else. At my place?”
Again, you shake your head, chuckling lightly but not decently. “I can’t. I’m sorry, I can’t. There’s someone…”
Jin is quick to cut you once again, his breathing suddenly erratic. He’s been in love with you for years - no, he can’t take the thought of you having a boyfriend now, choosing someone over him. “Someone else? This fast? Y/N, why did I never-”
He stops mid-sentence, and it happens just timely as you were going to hold out a hand to silence him anyway.
“Jin. Listen,” you start, leaning in closer, “there’s someone who offered to guide me through a scholarship. Not here - in a different city. And as much as I’ve always wanted you, I can’t do long-distance relationships.”
Your words ease the pain inside him, his mind suddenly relaxing as he takes in your confession. You want him. You’ve always wanted him. Is all of this real?
“Where- where are you going?”
“It’s too far away. I wouldn’t see you more than a handful of times a year. I can’t do this,” you admit, your eyes stinging as you swallow the lump in your throat.
You see him tilt his head with a sigh, and you’re on the verge of breaking when you see his mouth twitch, that familiar movement that mostly means despair. This always happens when his grades are worse than he expects. It happens when he talks to his little brother who lives miles away. Mostly, you see it when you watch - or used to watch - movies together, especially Pixar and Ghibli ones tearing him up in no time.
And now, it’s happening because of you.
“Is there no way for you to stay?”
You bite your lip, chewing on it until you taste your lipstick. “I don’t think so. And it’s… a big chance for me.”
Seokjin’s jaw clenches and he nods, relief turning into sorrow as his expression shows understanding on the surface while his blood is boiling with pain on the inside. He’s angry with himself - he truly is. But he’s also sad about the fact that you never approached him.
And while waiting for the other in silence, phones in your hands, but the courage to message each other so far away, you missed it. You both missed it and he hates it.
“Then I hope you’ll get everything you want, Y/N,” he finally says, standing up as he grabs his thin jacket. It’s probably not that fresh outside yet, he can carry it - maybe hide his fumbling hands that clearly show his nervosity and distaste to this whole situation.
All he can think of is to get away before he breaks.
Yet, he comes closer to you, hovering above you before he leans down. Not caring about your surroundings, only seeing you, his heart only beating for you, he presses his lips onto your forehead first, wanders to your nose, both your cheeks and your earlobes as he says in between each kiss, “whenever… you decide… to come back… I’ll be here…”
Then, he cups your face, looking at your beautiful, full lips, missing how they feel on his before he kisses you gently. His mouth moves delicately, sweetly against yours, bittersweet memories and feelings streaming back as you internally forbid yourself to cry.
“Waiting for you,” he finally whispers, lips brushing yours, and every fiber in you tries hard to hold back. To not pull him into another room, kiss him more fiercely and bring back the fervent heat that you’d indulged in the last time.
His thumb brushes your cheeks softly, his eyes registering you gulping hard as he says his goodbyes, so he can leave. There’s just no way he can stay here any longer. “Don’t cry. I’ll be here, sweetheart.”
And then, his warmth is gone.
Fighting the urge to follow him, you watch him walk away, mind going crazy as you see him face the ground. You can’t falter. You need to focus on your studies before anything else - you don’t want to regret your choices; and if what he says holds true, you might just be able to wrap him into you forever when you come back in a year or two.
Maybe it’s not over yet.
The sun has set by the time Seokjin arrives home. All the sunshine from today morning has vanished, warming someone else, somewhere else now, leaving him in the dark as he lets himself fall on his bed.
An absolute disaster, all of this. And what an idiot he is. Why did he not insist on inviting you over? Ask you if there was any way you’d spend this one last night with him? The lingering feelings of your soft lips strengthen his despair tenfold, and he hates himself for not fighting for a night or a day with you. After all, you’re not going away just yet.
But deep down he knows why he did what he did: being together again would just hurt you both further, the small flame that both of your pain is becoming a searing wildfire. At least he knows for sure that this is what would happen to him. He knows it’d be near impossible to let you go if he woke up beside you.
What if Seokjin searches for scholarships, too? Your grades are similar - if you can get one, why not him? The picture of having you around, falling asleep next to you, studying together and bantering over food and movies - it’s so intriguing that he knows what he’ll search up tomorrow.
Then again, you have your people; he doesn’t know anyone who can guide him through this, give him a fast opportunity to study somewhere else, be near you.
He doesn’t know. Not how to get you back, not how to feel you again; his brain comes up with nothing helpful, no plan he can actually execute successfully.
Slipping out of his pants, he lingers at the corner of the bed, his arms leaning on his thighs as his fingers tangle between them. Seokjin shakes his head as he physically feels his heart break, each broken piece fighting the other and torturing him, no matter how much he tells them to calm down.
And despite not knowing what to do, what to feel, how to erase the image of you and your face from his mind for the time being, he remembers something else.
When he’d looked for the meaning of the aloe plant, he had found many sources, some beautiful descriptions, and some poetic definitions that connected it to an emotional feeling. While the flower holds the meaning of affection, the memory of another word comes flooding in, ironic to the fact that aloe is supposed to heal, used to mend injuries and pain.
And thinking of this particular word, all he does know at this agonizing moment is that he identifies with your plant’s meaning.
He knows that all he feels is grief.
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my only friend
kira yoshikage / reader ;
rating: mature, no 18+ content yet ; kira & reader are portrayed as 18 years old ; tension at the end of chapter
here is chapter 2! link to chapter 1. hope you guys enjoy this, i am falling back in love with writing this thing. cross posted to ao3.
here is a spotify playlist to go with this fic.
“you've been riding two wheelers all your life
it's not like i'm asking to be your wife
i wanna make you mine, but that's hard to say
is this coming off in a cheesy way?”
The skies were covered in clouds, smoldering and dark, threatening to spill rain at any time. The air was chilly, causing goosebumps to line your arms and make the hairs on your neck stand up. Fall was just upon you, the summer months had passed within seconds it seemed. Not that you really cared-- autumn was beautiful, bringing colored trees and pretty sunsets.
Your shoes scuffed against the concrete you sat upon, your fingers barely holding onto a lit cigarette. You really ought to quit-- but the high of nicotine was just too much to give up. The taste of tobacco on your tongue was all you tried to focus on, but it was hard.
Hard when you sat outside of a dingy apartment, of a person you didn’t know, waiting for your companion to take their miserable life.
This was normal. You’d go a few days on the road, staying at whichever place you could, before Yoshikage started to feel the urges, as he called them. He had said it once before to you, and it was something that you hadn’t been able to quite let go.
“I just-- can’t help it,” His words were soft, and small. His hands were fidgeting in his lap, ghosting over the frayed edges of his baby blue sweater. “I can’t control myself when I get this way. It’s just that it’s in my nature to kill.”
Kira’s eyes were hidden behind his blond bangs, deep and dark and full of sorrow. He couldn’t help that he was this way, despite the fact that he wanted to live a quiet life. He didn’t want to be a bother on others, but it seemed like he had just dug himself in a hole.
Your mind jumped from that memory to another. The phone call. The one that changed your life drastically.
3:31 AM flashed on your alarm clock. The landline was ringing, practically jumping off your bedside table. Who the hell would need to call you right now? All of Morioh should be asleep-- your hand reached for it, gently picking it up off the receiver and holding it to your ear.
“Hello?”
A shaky voice was on the other end. Distant and gravely-- barely speaking above a whisper.
“D-Did I wake you up? I-I’m so sorry,” He sounded awful. Hiccups between every word, and you were positive he had been crying. “Yoshikage-- What happened? What’s going on?”
Yoshikage Kira had never sounded like this. He sounded so broken-- like a glass vase shattered across a concrete floor. There was a small hiccup, and a breathy sigh on the other end. “I made-- I made a big mistake. I need your help.”
A big mistake? What the hell did that mean?
“Can you please meet me at Reimi Sugimoto’s house? You know where that is right?” He sounded even more desperate with each passing second. Yes, you did know where she lived-- it was on your walking path to and from school everyday. It should only take you about 5 minutes to get there, if you booked it.
“Yes, yes, okay. I’ll be there soon. Whatever you do, don’t run away.” With those words being said, the line was cut off. Quickly, and being as quiet as possible, you got some pants and a sweatshirt on, stuffing a pillow under your blankets to make it seem like you were still sleeping. Thinking semi-clearly, you grabbed a backpack and put some extra clothes and your trusted pocket knife inside.
Slinging the bag over your shoulders, you grabbed your keys from your desk and slipped out of your room. This wasn’t the first time you had snuck out, so you knew each creak and cranny in the wooden stairs leading to the main entrance of your house. As quickly as you could, you slipped out of the house without a sound.
You quickly bolted to your car that was slightly down the street, thanking your past self for the distance. Your parents wouldn’t hear the car start, or you driving off to save your friend. Hopping in and starting the engine up, you quickly left in the direction of the Sugimoto residence.
Screams were faint in your ears.
Deciding that another cigarette was inevitable, you quickly pulled it out of the pack and lit it. You could have waited in the car, but-- you didn’t want Yoshikage to get hurt. You wanted to be there for him until the very end, so there you sat, against the grimy brick wall, feeling all sorts of out of place.
You let your mind drift again.
Driving well over the speed limit, you made it there in less than 3 minutes. From the outside of the house, it didn’t look like much had happened. The lawn was normal, the house the same as when you had driven past yesterday. That was until you noticed him-- a figure, clad in a pale blue sweater, sitting on the front steps of the building.
His hands, covered in his sleeves, were pressed firmly against his face. If it hadn’t been in the middle of the night, you would have been able to make out the bright red stains that coated his clothes. Quickly pulling the car to the side of the road, you got out without a second guess.
Quickly rushing up to the boy, you stopped only feet away from him.
“Yoshi… What-- What happened?” Blood. Blood on his sleeves-- his pants-- his hair. Fuck, his face was even coated in it. His hands dropped from his face, and he looked up at you with wide, cold-dead eyes. They were bright red and puffy, telling that he was sobbing his eyes out only moments previously.
“I-- I made a mistake.” Kira’s voice was only a whisper. If you hadn’t been listening, you would have thought it to be the midnight wind. “What mistake?” You pressed, stepping closer to the seated boy.
“I-- I,” Yoshikage stuttered, before tears lined his eyes. “I killed them.” He spoke so softly, before looking at his blood stained hands. “I killed them.” He stated, louder, looking up at you again. “I killed her parents. Her dog. And then-- her.” His voice was shaking, tears now freely flowing down his cheeks. “I don’t-- I don’t know what to do.”
You stared at him in disbelief. He-- Yoshikage Kira, the boy that grew up with you, silent but friendly, playing with only you throughout elementary, hanging out with you during middle school and high school-- your best friend. He had killed someone. Not someone, multiple people.
Fist shaking at your sides, chills running up your spine, sweat practically dripping from your temple.
You had a choice to make.
Leave him, let him get caught-- probably executed. Or--
“I’ll help you. Let’s go.”
You’ve never seen Kira’s eyes light up like that before. Bright blue, even in the pale moonlight. They were so blue, you swore you could have gotten lost in them. That’s your favorite part of the memory, thinking back on the relief he must have felt. It sent warmth through your body, butterflies floating in your stomach.
You knew, despite how much you question your own motives now and again, you wouldn’t be able to leave Kira. He’s been a staple in your life, much like you must have been to him. Why would he ask you for help if that wasn’t the case?
The skies had grown dark as you were reminiscent, and your stomach growling had alerted you that it might not be a bad idea to get some food. Glancing at the door to the apartment, you briefly wondered if Yoshikage would even notice if you left. But, then again, he might be hungry too. You weighed your options, and decided it would be best to just ask him.
Getting up to your feet, you flicked the butt of your cigarette over the railing of the complex. Your feet tingled with sleep, and your fists clenched as you stared at the awful wooden door. Your mind ran a million miles an hour, going through several thoughts about what he could possibly be doing behind that wretched piece of wood.
Just as you were about to knock on the door, it opened.
Kira stood there, eyes wide when he noticed you standing in front of him. He was absolutely drenched in blood-- his sweater was stained, khakis barely recognizable. His face and hair were also decently covered. His eyes quickly darted to his ruined chucks, and he spoke very softly.
“I-- I’m done.”
You let out a quick sigh of relief, and decided not to question him. “Well if that’s the case, how about we go get some food and find a place to clean you up?” Kira didn’t say anything, just nodded. With that, you both left the apartment complex.
As the night went on, you both decided that getting some fast food and trying to find a laundromat was in order. You were rather thankful for the dark, as the person who took your measly ones at the burger joint didn’t even bat an eye at your companion’s appearance.
Luckily, there was a laundromat just down the street. Pulling up and parking in the vacant lot, you both got out your burgers and ate in relative silence.
After downing your food in what felt like 3 bites, you looked over at your friend. He didn’t look like he was thinking about much-- his hands were steady, eyes somewhat glossed over from the food, and completely ignoring the fact that he was still very much covered in blood.
“Do you feel better?” The words felt almost foreign on your tongue, despite feeling like you asked him this every single time. Kira looked over at you, swallowing the bite he was chewing before responding. “Yeah. I do,” He rolled up the remaining half of his sandwich in the wrapper, putting it back in the bag. “But I would like to clean up my clothes.”
You snorted, grabbing your drink from the console and taking a few gulps. “I’m sure you would. It looks like it’s fairly empty in there, so I’m sure we’ll be fine.” You glanced at the clock in your car, and the bright red numbers informed you that it was well past midnight at this point. Kira must have noticed it too, and he began to get out of the vehicle.
Doing the same, you pulled the bag of quarters you keep in the console out and stuffed them in your pocket. You followed Yoshikage inside, quickly turning and locking your car before entering the building.
The place was very much run down-- old washing machines lined the dirty walls. Neon lights glimmered from outside, casting weird shadows across the floor. Kira kept walking to the back of the building, deciding to use the machines that were farthest from the windows. You followed him absentmindedly, hoping up on one of the machines and pulling out your little sack of change.
Yoshikage’s eyes glanced at your before they went down to his feet, and he quickly shrugged off his baby blue sweater. You swore that thing had been through its life cycle already-- ever since he got it at the beginning of high school, it seemed to be the only article of clothing he wore. He threw it into the washing machine next to you, his hands going back up to unbutton his undershirt.
At that point, you found it hard not to stare.
Yoshikage Kira may have been your best friend from preschool to now, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t attractive. Bright blonde curls and icy blue eyes-- along with a jawline that could surely cut glass.
The coins in your hand quickly became your second priority, as your eyes lingered on each inch of skin he revealed. This wasn’t even your first time seeing him semi-nude-- he sleeps in the same bed as you most nights. But this-- this was different.
Soon enough his button up was shrugged off and tossed in the washer, and you quickly averted your eyes to the coins you held in your palm. You were playing a very dangerous game, and you weren’t sure what Kira would do if he caught you looking at him like a piece of meat.
As you tried to count the quarters that were needed for the machine to run, you heard your companion’s shoes be kicked off. Then, the sound of a button and fly being undone made your cheeks heat up within seconds. Your mind was doing mental backflips, going back and forth between looking, and keeping your eyes down.
From the corner of your eyes, you saw his soiled khakis drop around his ankles, and he carefully stepped out of them, throwing them in the machine.
“Hey. I need a dollar and twenty-five cents to start it.” His words practically made you jump, and you held out your palm with the money he needed. Kira easily noticed how flustered you were, and let his fingers linger in yours while he took the coins. Soon enough, the machine roared to life, and you heard Kira take a seat next to you.
Swallowing your pride, you decided it wasn’t worth avoiding his gaze, so you looked over at him.
His skin was almost glowing in the awful lighting of the building, collar bones prominent and his muscles were exceptionally toned. You felt your eyes linger on his hips, almost tracing the V shape that dipped into his boxer briefs. As soon as you realized what you were doing, your eyes immediately went up to meet his own.
They had grown dark, silver pools watching your every move. A small smirk had formed on his lips, and you almost had to bite your lip from making any sort of noise.
Your mind screamed at you to look away. Stop staring at him and just look at literally anything else.
But then, something else happened that made your world turn upside down.
Did he fucking wink?
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Messy, chaotic perfection
Summary: Family isn't just who is blood, but who is in your corner, who makes you feel loved and cared for, who is safe and who is home.
Season 8 au, goes off if Kim never miscarried, Burzek are together, and season eight still went somewhat how it did.
Warnings: mentions of canon events (shooting, foster situations).
Word Count: 3.5k
Read on AO3
Notes: This is a Feel Better fic for the amazing, incredible and so, so strong and brave Cíara (@fighterkimburgess ). Cíara I love you, you deserve the world, and you deserve to know that I (and all of us in this fandom) have your back and wish you all the best in your life ♥️
Life can be unpredictable, events that you never expect to happen can occur and feel like that was always meant to happen all along. This is a lesson Kim has learnt over and over throughout her life, but one she’s only finally beginning to fully understand it, that it’s always going to happen in ways you don’t expect.
Like today.
Today, when she woke up, Kim thought she’d have a tiring day at work with all the racists that Kevin, and by extension them since Kevin is their family, is having to deal with but that it would be relatively drama free and she and her boyfriend—which is a word, that no matter how juvenile it sounds, makes her feel all giggly inside at—would come home and have a nice relaxing evening with their daughter.
She didn’t expect Patrol to not show up when they called and she definitely did not expect Adam to get shot. But that is life, as Kim has kept learning recently.
“Careful, let me grab the door.” Kim quickly darts in front of a very impatient and unfussed Adam, moving so she can unlock and open their front door before he can. Adam sighs.
“Kim, I’m not an invalid.” He grumbles and she flashes him a glare before she opens up the door.
“Adam, you were shot.” She holds up her hand. “And no I don’t care if it’s was in the vest. You were shot and you were lying there and I thought you were dead. And now you’ve got a bruise on your chest and Will said that you have to take it easy—it could affect your lungs if you overwork yourself.”
Kim already knows that she’s probably going to spend the next few weeks seeing Adam lying there on the grass whenever she shuts her eyes. Just like she knows that Adam gets why she’s being so fussy, even if he’s being his typical bad patient self.
“I can still open doors. You know I like opening our door for you,” At that, Kim turns away from the door, facing Adam. She closes what little distance they had between them, resting her hands gently on his chest.
“I know, but you’re injured. Let me look after you. And—we’ve only just found our way back together again, I don’t want to loose you, and I don’t want our daughter to loose you.” Adam’s eyes soften and he gently kisses her forehead.
“Yeah. I’m sorry, darlin’. I’m just stubborn.”
If this had happened years ago, this probably would’ve ended up making an even bigger dent in their relationship, and god knows if they’d be able to communicate—and truly understand each other back then. But they’re not those young people now, they’ve grown and learnt so much, and are completely dedicated to making this work.
Especially because they’re parents.
“Hey, Ally!” Adam is immediately greeting their six month old as soon as they enter the flat, Kim not far behind, the two parents cooing over her instantly.
“Can you hold her?” Trudy gives Adam a wary eye, holding the child she, without hesitation, claimed as her granddaughter. Normally they’d have their nanny here, taking care of Ally, but given that Adam was shot and had to be looked over, Trudy had relieved their nanny instead, just in case they arrived home later than usual.
“You’re as bad as Kim, of course I can,” Adam grumbles again, mostly with good humour. Still, Trudy glances at Kim just to double check, who nods and then Trudy is helping to pass the girl to her father. Usually, Adam would scoop the girl out of her arms with ease, but—showing that he is taking Will seriously, or at least their daughter’s safety seriously—he had hesitated, waited for Trudy to help.
“You should sit down, I’ll get dinner on.” Kim tells him. She then looks at Trudy. “Are you staying or going home? You’re welcome, of course.”
“I’ll leave the three of you be. Randall has his shift in the morning.” Trudy kisses her granddaughter good-bye—leaning down to do so, Ally babbling in Adam’s arms on the sofa—and then it’s just the three of them.
If you had told her a year and a half ago that this would be her life, Kim would struggle to belief you. Adam and her felt like history, something that never had the timing it deserved and that they’d only be relegated to friends with benefits.
And being a Mom? That was so far out from the cards Kim was dealt, she didn’t think it would happen for quite a few years, and even then, it felt like a impossible and distant thought.
But she has both. A relationship with Adam that is strong and decent and a proper, communicating relationship and the beautiful daughter who made it possible.
At first, Adam and her were determined to be co parents only. More her than him, if she was honest, but he understood her side.
But then Kim hit her second trimester and with it her renewed sex drive and inability to keep her hands off him and platonic co parents got more and more unbelievable—especially as they moved in together.
The reasons why they decided to just be platonic still hung over their head, however, and so they had to have a serious conversation—several, in fact—about their relationship and what it would look like and be like. They both knew that with a child in the mix, they had to be committed and determined because their baby would be impacted.
Kim did have worries about it, about if they could keep communicating and not fall back on old habits, but by the time Ally came along, their relationship had only grown stronger. The new-born stage is a tough time for parents, and they had their moments, but that only brought them even more closer and Kim now no longer has any of those worries.
Domestic bliss is something she’s always wanted to have, alongside a fulfilling job, and there’s days Kim can’t quite believe that she’s found it.
Her life isn’t perfect, no life is. And there’s tensions at work, and with their best friend going through some horrific stuff, life doesn’t feel easy. But they have each other, and they have Ally, and Kim keeps feeling like she’s reached as close to perfection as she could have.
When she was younger, Kim imagined that having perfection would be calm, would be peaceful. And maybe for others it is, but it’s not for her. There’s always some madness in her life; she’s a cop, after all. And she’s learned to appreciate the short peaceful moments that she gets. But sometimes, sometimes life is just quiet.
It had been a few weeks of quiet that Kim had realised her life hadn’t had any madness in it. Her and Adam were just going about their routine, day in, day out, watching as Ally continued to grow and marvel them and she realised that.
And then she knew instantly that the madness was coming.
It came the next day.
Adam and her had just picked up their morning coffee from a coffee shop. It had been a while since they could, usually having to make do with the district coffee—having a baby means time is precious and money is dear—but they did this morning, the two of them in a good mood and having a ridiculous conversation about boats.
And then there was a lost six year old girl walking through the road.
Everything got a lot more busy after that, as they tracked down her family and worked out what had happened.
Being a Mom has definitely changed Kim, and she had to go into a corner—Adam joining her, wrapping his arms around her—and have a little cry in the locker room. All she could think about her daughter, her Ally, loosing her family like that and it activated the still distantly present hormones leftover from her pregnancy.
And it made her more determined to help the little girl, Makayla, especially when the girl had apparently bonded to her. Kim was told that she was the best person to talk to her, and even though she’s a mother, she had doubted her abilities. There’s a difference between her baby who’s just learning to talk and move about to a traumatized six year old but the doubts were misplaced, Kim managing to get that connection.
Makayla had wanted her to come to the safe house with her, which Kim did. Luckily Adam was by Trudy’s desk and he gave her nod, telling her that Ally and him will be okay. Still, Kim was glad that she’s already had a night away from her daughter so that she could go with Makayla, so that she didn’t have to let down this vulnerable girl who needed her just as much.
The safe house had turned out to not be so safe, and Kim’s mama bear instincts—as Adam has affectionately coined—kicked in and she instantly said she’ll be taking Makayla home, no questions.
Of course, she had glanced at Adam, silently checking with him. Adam had nodded again.
“Ally’s already with her grandparents so yes, Makayla will be staying with us.” Adam had immediately supported her, his voice just as firm and decided. Kim had already worked out Ally was with Trudy and Mouch, as he was there and they are their emergency babysitters but she felt so lucky to have a partner who was willing to not have the night with his daughter for what she wants.
Seeing Adam interact with Makayla that night had made Kim’s insides twist, and she wonders if they might end up accidentally conceiving a second baby soon with how his paternalism stirred feelings inside her.
It left her feeling sadder than Kim would’ve thought to say goodbye to Makayla after everything was sorted, an emptiness in her heart. The girl had made an impact on her and it felt wrong to end the story there.
That night, Kim had hugged Ally close to her, Adam arm wrapped around her as he cuddled up to them.
“I think I want another,” Kim had said, and Adam choked. She had laughed, then, careful not to wake the sleeping baby on her chest.
“Not now or anytime soon. One baby is enough at one time. But in the future. This—us—being a family, it feels right and as perfect as our family is, I want it to be bigger.” She had explained. She’d have been nervous, but this is Adam, possibly the only person she knows whole heartedly that she can be herself, no judgement.
“Darlin’, nothing would make me happier.” He had kissed her temple firmly then, lacing their hands together and Kim got that feeling of perfect domestic bliss again.
“I’d say let’s have another right now but, yeah, one baby is enough. Although we could practice?” He then joked and Kim rolled her eyes at him.
It isn’t that long after that they’re at social services and Kim spots that precious six year old who, if Kim is honest with herself, hadn’t left her thoughts since, every few days Kim wondering if she’s okay, if she’s settling and adjusting and if the cousin Cathy would need to call her.
“Kim!” Makayla immediately runs to her, hugging her and Kim’s heart twists and constricts, warming at the gesture but breaking that she’s here.
They’re in the middle of a turbulent case, a case that plagues Kim, but her mind is still spilt, focused on worrying about Makayla.
“Where were you?” Adam asks her when she gets back from Cathy’s. Kim knows that she should’ve told him before, that going off alone like this when in a relationship and a parent isn’t how she should be behaving but as the couple’s therapist they went to say said, sometimes Kim can have tunnel vision. It’s something she’s working on, but sometimes she reverts back, like when a six year old needs her.
“I went to see Makayla’s Cathy.” Kim then tells him, and she tells him all about it.
“What if I take her in?” The words fall out Kim’s mouth before she can really process them. It’s nothing she should say, not just for the reasons Makayla’s social worker lists. But because Kim isn’t an I anymore. She’s in a relationship and she’s a mother. This isn’t just her life, but she can’t get Makayla—or the bond they have—out of her head.
After the conversation with her social worker, Kim sees Kevin. She wonders if she should ask him about this, about his siblings and that decision, knowing that he’ll have value to add to the conversation, especially as a black man. But she stops herself, knowing that she’s getting that tunnel vision again, that she needs to discuss this with Adam before she spirals too fast.
“I want to foster Makayla.” It isn’t the most tactful conversation, or the best place for it. But Kim’s mind is in overdrive and all she can think about is how she could feel at six, feeling like only Nicole loved her, and about that precious girl, and her own daughter.
“Us. I want us to foster Makayla.” Kim quickly amends, because they’re a team. Everything they do, they do together. They’re entwined and interlinked and the only way to make the relationship successful is by accepting and respecting that.
It’s a long conversation. It’s really not the time or place but that’s something that just doesn’t matter as much as talking. Kim tells Adam all about why she does, and he talks about how he feels. That he gets it, that he would want to give her a home just as much but has she thought this through.
They work out if they want it to only be temporary, how they’ll do it with Ally, if they’re ready and if they’re only doing this because they’re adapting to being parents, parents who often felt unloved as a child.
And they grab Kevin, adding him to the discussion, getting his two cents.
And then they come to a decision—that they should take Makayla home and they’re jumping into action. Kim calling the social worker, Adam arranging for Ally to be at her grandparents for the night as they get Makayla settled.
Everything picks up after that, quiet days rarely a thing even more than before.
They get Makayla into school, sets up their home so it feels more like hers, they get her into therapy and family therapy. They introduce her to Kevin, knowing he will have to play an important role in their foster daughter’s life.
Makayla adores Ally from the first time they meet, treating her with such care and love and Ally immediately bonds to her. It fills Kim with such joy and affection, and makes her heart feel so, so soft.
Kim was worried that them having Ally already would make Makayla feel like an add on, but it has the opposite affect, making her feel more like part of the family—two weeks in, Makayla tells Kim that she always wanted a little sister, and Kim’s happy that she may not have been able to save Makayla’s family, but at least she could do something.
It’s not smooth sailing. It’s tough and it’s work. Nights were hell, Makayla waking up screaming and rousing Ally, but it gets better, especially after they get Makayla trouble dolls. It’s an adjustment, for sure, but it’s fulfilling.
For Adam too, who’s taken to calling Makayla his lil darlin’ and all three of them his girls. Kim already knew he is a great dad, but seeing him dress up and play with Makayla, and being so calm and loving through her trauma just reaffirms that over and over, making Kim feel so happy that she gave them another chance.
Makayla is family long before the adoption going through.
Mack is one of the first words Ally says, reaching for her sister as she did so. Kim—and Adam, as they discussed it later—will never forget the utterly joyful grin that had spread across Makayla’s face at that.
“Ally said my name!” Makayla had exclaimed to them happily, and proceeded to tell everyone she saw over the next week, her excitement and joy never waning.
Trudy and Mouch immediately accept Makayla as another grandchild and the rest of the family treats Makayla like she belongs. Kim never had any doubts, but it warmed her heart to see how much Makayla clearly loved and was taken by it—and how it made her feel so much more settled, knowing she’s gained so much family even after loosing so much.
Sylvie takes it upon herself to be her honorary godmother and Makayla quickly learns that Sylvie is one of the best to play princesses with. Stella comes with Sylvie one day and Makayla is immediately enamoured by her, and soon Stella decides Makayla needs two godmothers.
The Atwaters are an essential part of their family, as they help Makayla keep that connection to her black culture, helping to make sure her identity doesn’t get lost and that she doesn’t feel like she has to pick sides between her old and new life.
Makayla and Uncle Kev have a day every month, just them, doing whatever they want. It’s not even about doing anything relating to their shared skin tone, but just a routine to establish that Kevin is there for her.
Jordan takes to Makayla quickly, as well, finding her cute and endearing. He tells them that she reminds him of Vinessa at that age, and quickly starts calling her his little cousin—another thing that Kim knows helps makes her feel like part of the family.
Makayla loves her ‘big cousin', Jordan often teaching her age appropriate jokes and helping her play harmless pranks. He also teaches her some dance moves, and laughs with her when she tries to teach Adam them, who fails spectacularly.
Jordan loves Ally as well, having seen Kim as part of his family for years but Kim knows that they’ll never have the bond that Jordan and Makayla have, and it’s something that makes her feel warm and fuzzy inside—that Makayla with have things that’s just hers, that she won’t ever feel like she’s in her little sister’s shadow. It’s important, Kim thinks, and she’s glad of it. Makayla is no less her daughter than Ally and deserves to never feel like she is.
Makayla is family before she is legally, before she’s adopted into a family who barely has any blood in common anyway. But the day the adoption goes through is a joyous day for all of them.
“I love you.” Makayla has said it to them before, and more to Ally. But that day she says it and it’s louder than a shy whisper but firm and sure and Kim can’t help getting teary eyed as they hug her, assuring their daughter that they love her too, so much.
“Thank you for wanting to be my mom and dad.” Makayla says that night, so earnestly and Kim tears up again, Adam too. And nothing has ever felt so right. Kim knows she’ll never replace her mom, and she doesn’t want to, and she knows that Makayla might not ever call them mom and dad but they are and Makayla sees them as that and it feels so right.
“We’ve got two daughters.” Kim giggles against Adam’s chest that night, when everyone is asleep.
“That we do. And we got to skip the baby stage so we could get our two daughters straight away,” Adam replies, referencing their conversation from the night Makayla went home with Cathy. Kim laughs again, cuddling against her fiancé—as of a week ago.
Life is unpredictable. It’s messy and chaotic and full of madness, and Kim’s learnt and accepted that. And life is wonderful and amazing, and not despite of that, but because of that.
Two years ago, Kim would not see herself like this. In bed with Adam, her fiancé, their two daughters sleeping and feeling like she’s got the most perfect life. And it’s all because life is unpredictable.
Kim used to think that perfect meant calmness. And then she thought that can’t be her life, because she’s choose a mad and crazy life, a life not designed to be calm. But as she lies in bed that night, Adam cuddling her, Kim knows that’s wrong.
Life does mean calmness, but not because her life is quiet and calm, but because it’s messy and chaotic. It’s messy and chaotic and it’s hers. She has all what she ever wanted, fulfilled in all areas, and it doesn’t matter if it’s unpredictable because that’s the beauty of it.
There’s such a peace and calmness inside of her, an ease that has been brought on only by the messy, imperfection and unplanned events of her life—and that’s what makes everything feel perfect; perfect within the chaos.
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Tedious Joys - Chapter 3 -
- Ao3 link -
“Truly, Lao Nie, you are blessed to have such a talented son,” Wen Ruohan said, and if it were anyone else it might have even been a compliment, sincerely meant.
But Wen Ruohan was an ancient monster, two generations older than Lan Qiren – though you couldn’t tell by looking at his smooth young-seeming face, and only his eyes told the truth of it – and possessed of both a longstanding grudge against the Nie sect and the apparent sense that all good things in the world ought to belong to him and him alone.
He had only two living sons at present, the younger one only a little older than A-Zhan, now called Lan Wangji, and neither of them had yet displayed any particularly fine qualities – understandable for little Wen Chao, who was little more than a spoiled princeling, but the tone in Wen Ruohan’s voice boded no one any good.
“It is, no doubt, a credit to Sect Leader Lan’s excellent teaching,” Wen Ruohan added before Lao Nie could respond, and he raised his cup to toast Lan Qiren. Etiquette required that Lan Qiren acknowledge the toast, which he did with a stiff nod, but he disliked this line of conversation more and more.
“Starting to regret not sending your own boy there, are you, Hanhan?” Lao Nie laughed, and Lan Qiren devoutly wished that his friend would leave him out of whatever strange ongoing thing he had developed with Wen Ruohan, half rivalry and half challenge, hatred and affection both. Who in their right mind would call the fearsome Sect Leader Wen such intimate things like “A-Han” or “Hanhan”?
Lao Nie, that was who.
Wen Ruohan bared his teeth at Lao Nie in something that might be mistaken for a smile. Lan Qiren averted his eyes from the whole debacle, thinking to himself that he would need to advise Lao Nie that he could either invite their fellow sect leader into his bed or have Lan Qiren as a friend but not both. Lan Qiren’s entire life had been thrown into chaos by other people’s choices in that regard and he was not inclined to endure any more of the same if he could help it.
The jade pendant he had taken to wearing on his belt for easy access was warm against his leg, as it often was when he was thinking ungracious thoughts – he’d had something of a breakthrough with Jiwei shortly his affirmation of friendship with Lao Nie, achieving perfect resonance between blade and pendant, and he was very pleased even if he didn’t actually have any evidence that it was helping. He’d tuned a similar pendant with Baxia for Nie Mingjue, who wore it around his neck to help seep off Baxia’s rage, and though there were no dramatic effects, Lan Qiren thought that he seemed steadier for it. Though that might also just be how Nie Mingjue was starting to grow into himself, both in terms of becoming a teenager (Lan Qiren’s best estimate was around thirteen) and in terms of his ever-increasing height.
Children at that age were especially tricky to convince to listen, so Lan Qiren had allowed Lan Xichen to select the pendant and act as messenger to hand over the gift, thinking to himself that their mutual friendship would do more to convince Nie Mingjue to wear the thing than any esoteric explanation relating to cultivation. He had been proven right, and the fact that Lan Xichen smiled brightly every time he saw his friend wearing it was an unexpected but welcome bonus.
Sadly, Lao Nie was not so easily convinced, but again then he was an adult, with his habits set in stone, harder to change. His style had always been simple and stringently austere; he hated having any sort of weight on him but for his saber, his guan and his braids, and not even the threat of his pending eventual death would change his mind about that. As a result it was Lan Qiren who wore the pendant for him, meditating with or playing for Jiwei whenever he could and doing all he could to strengthen the resonance between the two items even at a distance.
It was Lan Qiren that wore the jade, even though it hung heavy and swollen with Lao Nie’s spiritual energy, and Wen Ruohan that glared each time he saw it, and really, if Lao Nie could just stop whatever dangerous game he was playing, Wen Ruohan could go back to disregarding Lan Qiren as the mediocre replacement for the far more dangerous Qingheng-jun.
Instead of…well, whatever wrong idea Wen Ruohan had gotten into his head about him.
About them, perhaps.
Some people thought everything was about sex, he thought disdainfully, and then had to suppress a flinch at the abrupt stab of pain – He Kexin had died earlier that year, fading away suddenly and unexpectedly, and for all that Lan Qiren had not liked her it was still a shock to think that she was gone.
He had been the one to find her, which he supposed was lucky in comparison to the alternative. It had been during one of his visits, coming as he always did to report to her at the midpoint between her children’s monthly visits, and even now, months later, he found himself starting to walk towards her house on those evenings, found himself mentally making a note of things his nephews did as if he were still preparing the reports that he would have given to her if she had still been there.
His brother had never cared for such reports.
His brother…
Lan Qiren had had to tell him that the wife he had sacrificed everything for was gone, talking through the door in the hope that he would be listened to and heard, and perhaps the only benefit of his brother’s cold and endless seclusion was that he didn’t have to hear his brother’s response to such news.
(Sometimes he wondered if his brother was already dead and rotting away in there, only to scold himself for such inauspicious thoughts. In the end, despite everything, it was still his brother, and surely they had been close, once, the way Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji were, even if Lan Qiren could not remember it.)
He had hoped that Cangse Sanren would somehow hear the news and come to find him, to commiserate – even more than Lao Nie, she could put a smile on anyone’s face – but she did not come to the Cloud Recesses. Lan Qiren hoped it was only that she was busy, or else perhaps had not had reason to hear such gossip as a traveling rogue cultivator, but he feared the worst. The last time they had met she had reminded him, as she did every time, that she had a doom hanging above her head which could not be escaped, and as always they made sure to part on good terms as if that time would be the last. And yet, despite that, he still hoped desperately that he had not lost her, too.
“– such a talented niece,” Jin Guangshan was saying ingratiatingly to Wen Ruohan, who looked pleased – they must be discussing Wen Qing, who was around Nie Mingjue’s age, perhaps a little older, and who already showed all signs of being an extremely talented doctor. She was not Wen Ruohan’s direct niece, being a child of the Dafan Wen branch family, distant cousins at best, but Wen Ruohan had claimed her as his ward and therefore, technically, her skills were his merit, no matter that she had developed them before her abrupt relocation to the Nightless City to accompany the main family line. “Perhaps you might consider sending her to Sect Leader Lan’s lectures next summer, instead.”
“There are separate lectures for women,” Lan Qiren demurred, going for the easy excuse of his sect’s customs. “I believe she has a younger brother? You are welcome to send him once he is old enough, if you like.”
Wen Qing was not at all to Lan Qiren’s taste, as much as he was loath to say such a thing about a girl little older than a child. She had inherited the arrogance of the Wen sect in full: proud and unwavering, convinced of her own viewpoint regardless of any evidence to the contrary, and unwilling to compromise or listen, determined to have her own way. While in her case the traits shaded closer to virtue, such as with her absolutist refusal to use her sword to engage in any of Wen Ruohan’s skirmishes with small neighboring sects, Lan Qiren could see a future in which that very same arrogance would bring her nothing but problems.
If there was one thing that he’d learned from Jiwei, it was that it was not good to be too rigid, too set in your path, or else you would ignore any other solution in favor of walking step-by-step down the path you’d created to your own destruction. It was something he himself was constantly trying to correct in himself, with his love of the rules and very particular habits, and perhaps that was why he could recognize it in others.
Still, she was young, and there was time yet for her to learn better. Maybe he should recommend her for some classes…
“I will consider it,” Wen Ruohan said with a not-smile on his lips. “Perhaps there’s something that the boy can learn from Sect Leader Lan’s…wealth of experience.”
Lan Qiren did not flinch at the jibe, clearly aimed to remind him that he had never left the Lan sect to gain experience the way so many young men did – Wen Ruohan had discovered that particular sore spot years ago, and however skilled he was at picking at old wounds, they would eventually toughen into a scar – but he was somewhat gratified to see Lao Nie’s frown deepen when he heard it.
Still, since Lan Qiren didn’t actually want to get in the middle of the other sect leaders’ personal business, he interjected, “There is still time before we need to think of such things. The children will be grown sooner than we like; we should cherish the time when they’re still young.”
Wen Ruohan rolled his eyes at the platitude, but the conversation moved on to other matters. There was always business to discuss at these discussion conferences, even in the parts that were nominally meant as social events, and of course some of the social discussions were also in their own way business. The birth of a son for Tingshan He clan, yet another daughter for the prodigious Yingchuan Wang clan with all their concubines…
The pendant on Lan Qiren’s thigh burned hotter than ever, and he slid a hand out of his sleeve to press down on it, wondering at the cause. He glanced over at Lao Nie, at Jiwei, and found him scowling in a way that seemed more intense than the usual, his eyes on Wen Ruohan – had he truly just noticed the other man’s disdain of Lan Qiren? Surely not.
Perhaps he was simply responding to Jiwei’s own response, but why the saber would be upset at Wen Ruohan, Lan Qiren truly did not know. There was only so much he could understand without the lived experience of cultivating saber spirit himself, which for all his effort he did not and could not have.
Lan Qiren sent his own spiritual energy to the pendant, trying to press the feeling of calm there in the hopes that the resonance would also help calm Jiwei, and thus in turn Lao Nie, but he had no idea if it was having that effect. Perhaps he would try to play for Lao Nie himself as well as for Jiwei tonight.
Assuming of course that Lao Nie was not otherwise preoccupied…
A loud noise came from the arena below – a giant wave of cheering – and Lan Qiren turned his attention there: it appeared that, as Wen Ruohan must have foreseen, Nie Mingjue had just defeated someone one and a half times his own age in a clean sweep. He was practically glowing with joy and youthful enthusiasm and, yes, sheer overwhelming spiritual energy - had he managed to advance his own cultivation during a performance spar?
Of course he had. Geniuses.
And of course, just as predictably, Lan Xichen was the first one by his side when he left the field, the two of them talking avidly and enthusiastically – perhaps a little too much so for Lan Xichen, just edging outside of the Lan sect rules, but Lan Qiren could forgive the small misstep under the circumstances. Normally he tried to be as strict as possible when teaching his nephews, erring wherever possible in favor of orthodoxy out of his fear that they would end up indifferent to their sect or blinded by passion the way their father was or too mercurial and easily deceived the way He Kexin had been. Still, Lan Xichen had only just become old enough to attend the events and it was only another year before he could participate, albeit only in the most junior capacity; some enthusiasm was understandable.
Truly, he thought as he watched them, it had not been a mere platitude to say that a child’s youth needed to be cherished before it disappeared forever, and all the more so when it was your child. With their mother’s death, his nephews were now wholly in his custody and care, and he thought that he could not have loved them any more if they had been children of his own body.
Unexpectedly, he felt someone’s gaze on him and turned his head to catch Wen Ruohan studying him thoughtfully. When their gazes met, Wen Ruohan did not look away, but only smiled and raised his cup – the second time now he had tried to catch Lan Qiren in a toast. He would probably try to force them all into drinking later. Lan Qiren would refuse, as always, and take his leave early so that he could sleep, and Lao Nie would stay and probably get himself into trouble.
Perhaps Wen Ruohan had some sort of scheme to force the issue. That had happened a few times, although the move was more typical of Jin Guangshan, who liked to set important business meetings in the evening and then insist that they might as well have the conversation at a ‘tea house’ or ‘wine shop’ that barely bothered hiding the fact that it was brothel. On a few instances, he had steered the conversation in such a way that left Lan Qiren no choice but to either drink, lose face, or give Jin Guangshan no face, and of those three options the most palatable was clearly the first. Lan Qiren would therefore drink and, true to his bloodline, almost immediately become extremely dizzy and confused, losing all his senses.
Presumably that had been Jin Guangshan’s goal the first time around, except unfortunately for him Lan Qiren, when drunk, did not become easier to manipulate. Instead, it appeared that he simply lost all control of his ability to moderate his interest in the Lan sect rules or obscure musical theory and would therefore proceed to talk about those subjects at monotonous and excruciating length to anyone who would listen, and several who would really rather not. Lao Nie had told him about it after one such incident, claiming that he had nearly burst a rib laughing at Wen Ruohan’s worsening expression as Lan Qiren earnestly hung off his arm all evening, refusing to be shaken off, and dictating to him the entire history, development, and applicable exceptions of just one of the rules regarding the use of the Lan sect forehead ribbon.
With quotes.
(In his embarrassment, Lan Qiren had responded by muttering something about the importance of citing appropriate authority, causing Lao Nie to nearly burst another rib.)
He wasn’t sure why Wen Ruohan would bother inviting that sort of behavior again, especially when he had already requested in advance that should such circumstances ever occur again, Lao Nie was to have pity on him and drag him back to his bed before he went on too long. And yet – reviewing the day’s proposed schedule in his mind – it seemed likely that Wen Ruohan did have such intentions.
For some reason, it made Lan Qiren worry.
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Steadfast
Characters: Childe, gn!reader
Word Count: 3,241
Warnings: Swearing, Angst
Premise: He’d always assured you that he wouldn’t change, that he was still the man he was before. And yet how different things were, and how much it hurt to see what had come to pass.
In which the reader sees the changes in Childe
Author’s Note: Thank you so much for this request anon! Really from the bottom of my heart thank you. I really liked the concept of this prompt, I feel like it really gave me an opportunity to focus on how relationships change and grow, rather than always writing about new couples, or people just beginning to fall in love, although there is of course that involved. It’s interesting to see how people grow and change, even if it can be a little sad sometimes. Writing this was kind of depressing, I hope that this wasn’t too sad, considering you requested hurt comfort. I might’ve gotten a bit carried away…
Funny story, I actually hate one of the people Childe shares a name with. Look what you did to Cassandra Ajax the Lesser, look what you did… So to make up for this unfortunate coincidence I pronounce the names differently in my mind. Ajax the Lesser is pronounce “A-jack-s” and Childe’s name is pronounced “Ai-axe”.
I decided not to bullet point this, as I feel like it works better in a more “traditional format”, that being said if bullet points are easier to read I can go back and fix that.
When you’d first fallen in love with Ajax it had been before the change.
Back then everything with him had seemed so exciting, like stepping into the sea for the first time. You were a bit afraid, worried that you might be swept away all at once, but another part of you wanted to run straight ahead, to immerse yourself in this new and exciting experience. Wanted to keep going and never look back.
You’d known Ajax since before you could remember. The two of you had grown up in the same small village, where one could hardly take five steps without bumping into someone, and being close in age had made you automatic playmates. Ajax was a brash child, not always easy to get along with, but impossible to pull away from. Even when he knocked you to the ground, or sat on you so you couldn’t move, declaring himself the winner of whatever you’d been playing, you’d still run to meet him the next day, the tears you’d shed utterly forgotten. Childhood friends might’ve been a cliché, but it was truly then that Ajax as a person had begun to stick in your mind.
This only continued throughout the course of your adolescence. Attending the same schools you two were nearly inseparable, causing you merciless teasing from the rest of your classmates. Ajax apparently got the same treatment, resulting in him decking a kid who declared you two were going to get married when you grew up. He’d been suspended for a few days, but never seemed to regret it, and when you’d gone over to his house to ask about it he’d grinned as usual, proclaiming he’d gladly do it again.
Growing up was a difficult process, so many snags and pitfalls, new anxieties, and old ones that you’d never truly worried about before. But it was all perfectly fine with Ajax there. He was always ready to pick you up, and flash you a smile to go along with his help. No wonder you found yourself hopelessly infatuated him, years of trust and affection building up to the newfound feeling of love.
And then Ajax went missing.
You still remembered the terror that shocked your system when his mother visited, tone unnervingly light, asking if you and Ajax weren’t playing some type of game. You’d bolted outside when she’d revealed Ajax had gone missing, running towards the woods that was the only exit to the village where you lived. The adults had quickly caught up to you, but your fears had already grabbed hold, and you found yourself confronted with all you felt for him. You loved Ajax. How did this happen? Love was still so foreign, a word you could throw around but never truly catch. And yet you loved him, you loved him very much. And now he was gone.
They didn’t let you see him initially, saying he was tired, he needed rest, he’d be alright in a few days. Your imagination had run wild, your mind spinning a terrible story. Perhaps he’d been mortally wounded, perhaps he could no longer see, made blind from the snow and the cold. Perhaps he wasn’t really back, and they were simply lying to make you happy. These thoughts chased you, and it was only when you saw him again that your heart settled, even if a part of you whispered that Ajax was altogether changed.
He’d begun to leave the village. Though no one quite knew where he was you certainly knew a lot of brawling was involved. He’d sometimes sneak into your house, in a last ditch effort to keep his parents and the rest of his family from finding out how much he’d truly changed. You’d cried sometimes, seeing him with black eyes and bruising, slashes of red marring his hands, his arms, his face. He didn’t like to see you cry, would start scolding you, as if it was some fault of yours to feel worried, to care for someone who already was growing into a stranger. He always realized his fault though, and after a little while he’d pat the spot next to him. You’d sit down, head sometimes on his shoulder, listening as he spun his tales of greatness into the night, as if he were a knight fighting a great dragon and its army, rather than a troubled new adult with nowhere to turn to in terms of understanding.
When he’d ask you to be his partner you thought you’d never feel unhappy again. You felt like you were on air, kept grounded only by his arms around you, his heart beating steadily against your ear as you nestled against his chest. You could tell he was happy too, and though it amazed you slightly that he should be as in love with you as you were with him, you could only thank the Tsaritsa and every other archon under the stars, thank them for being so generous as to give you all you ever wanted.
It seemed such a funny thought in retrospect, when it was the Tsaritsa herself who was now tearing him away from you.
“Ajax, how could you?!” Your voice felt odd to your ears, somehow too thin, distant, as if someone else was saying it. “You knew, you knew that you’d have to join the Fatui. So why, why in the name of the Seven did you start that fight!”
“They were asking for it!” Ajax’s voice was just as raw, frustration mixed with something unknown. Entitlement perhaps, fear otherwise. “You should’ve heard the things they said about me, about my family. How they’d raised a good for nothing thief, a shithead who knew nothing more than how to swing a sword, and who would one day meet someone bigger than him, and die in the street, given to the rats, utterly forgotten. I had to prove them wrong! It was a matter of honor!”
“It was a matter of ego!” You cried, feeling the ground spin slightly underneath you. “How could you let them goad you like that Ajax, goad you when you knew exactly what was going to happen.” Sitting down you put your head in your hands. The world was shattering around you, and there was no one to blame for it except the one you loved the most.
“My darling, please, I don’t want to fight.” Ajax knelt down in front of you, taking your hands in his as you raised your head to face him.
“You always want to fight…” you replied, voice hoarse, pitched barely above a whisper. “And now you’re leaving, leaving to be part of an organization of cowardliness and deceit. What happened to the adventures you were going to have? What happened to the dragons you were going to slay?”
“I’ll get them yet.” There was amusement in Ajax’s voice, but it was clearly forced, and soon forgotten about. “I promise it’ll be alright, my darling I would never do anything to knowingly hurt you.”
And yet you have, you thought. You’ve run a dagger through my heart, and now your talking to me as if I’m not being destroyed by it. It hurts, it hurts so damn much.
“You’re going away.” You finally replied. “You’re going away to a place that will only destroy you more. And now things will never be the same again. Haven’t you wondered about what will happen to you there? If you’ll ever be allowed to return home? Haven’t you wondered whether or not you’ll ever see your family again? Things will never be the same again Ajax, never. You’ve crossed the chasm, and now you cannot return.”
“Don’t talk like that.” Ajax placed a hand on your cheek. “I promise nothing will change. I will always be myself my darling. This is only a stepping stone, a piece of my journey. I promise, I promise I will always remain as I am. And I’ll never forget about you, nor my family, nor this village. Nothing is going to change. I’ll make sure it won’t. So stop crying my darling; tears never looked good on you anyways.”
And yet, how things have already changed. Still, you said nothing, instead wiping your eyes and pressing your forehead against Ajax’s. His familiar presence was reassuring, and you thought of the years ahead of you, perhaps the eternity ahead of you, when you could no longer rely on him being there. Your eyes welled with tears again, and this time you made no move to stop them. You let yourself cry. If there was anything in the world worth crying about, surely this was one of those things.
There was a new name signed in Ajax’s letters. “Childe” was the first name, “Tartaglia” was the second. They seemed to mar the page somewhat, written in Ajax’s – no, Childe’s – bold, slashing script. You hated the names, hated the memories they stirred up, reminders of all you’d lost in such a small amount of time.
The day you’d found out Childe was to become a Harbinger you’d raged as you’d never raged before. Locking yourself in the small apartment you’d managed to find – having moved out of Morepesok once the memories had become too oppressive – you’d spent most of your time reading the letter over and over and over.
He’d wanted you to attended, writing you were basically his family at this point, and besides, he wanted to show you to the Tsaritsa. Though the line about family filled your heart with no little affection, you’d refused flat out. It would’ve been too painful, seeing the crux of his transformation; the death of Ajax, the birth of Tartaglia. Childe had said nothing to your refusal, but he was clearly worried, and for a while afterwards the letters were more frequent. But even that stopped after a while, and now you savored what little information you could get, the torn pages of last month’s note a testimony to how much you reread them.
You wished that you could somehow end this purgatory you’d found yourself in. Though you’d begun your own career by now, pushing yourself to your limits as you were sure Childe was doing in his, nothing seemed so important as the drama that had comprised your entire life. How long had you known Childe? You could no longer remember. Long ago, so very long ago. Back when the world was simpler, comprised only of candy from one of the big cities, and fighting over the best fishing rod. Tears were shed over particularly brutal games of tag, then forgotten the next day. How odd that world seemed now, something you could never go back to.
Every once in a while you’d be met not by a letter, but by a visit. Those were the best days. The days where you could set all your worries and your unease away. When you could once more press your ear against Childe’s chest and feel the steady beating of his heart. As long as you could do that, maybe it’d be alright.
“How’s my darling?” Childe’s voice carried down the hall of your apartment. You’d dropped the letter you’d been reading, his letter, and ran towards the entrance. Throwing yourself in his arms you wept tears of joy. Childe returned the embrace just as enthusiastically, though his eyes were dry. They’d changed, his eyes, or perhaps you’d just learned to notice the hardness that resided in them. “I’m home.” Childe murmured, eyes closed, expression one of perfect bliss. “Don’t worry beloved, I’m home.”
His presence never left yours the days he came to visit. Always there was an arm slung around your waist, or a chin resting on your shoulder or your head. His presence was as comforting as ever, and you soaked it in gladly. He’d changed. Not that you were surprised by that, of course he’d changed. His confidence was much more calculated, his words now slicked with flattery and deceit. He easily persuaded the fishmonger to give you a discount, and some sweet talk with the waiter at a café you frequented earned you a free lemon loaf. You took it, knowing that he just wanted to treat you, but the sugary confection stuck to the roof of your mouth, which had somehow developed a bitter taste.
You said nothing about it. There was no longer any point in arguing. You two were tied together by all sorts of strings. History, location, youth, love. And yet you’d gone your own separate ways. No more were the dreams of adventuring together. The real world had come along and stolen it away. The Tsaritsa had ripped that future from your grasp, and with it went your happiness.
“Are you happy, my love?” Childe asked late one evening. You were cuddled on the small couch in what comprised your living room. You nestled against Childe, breathing him in. Were you happy? No. But in that moment you weren’t unhappy either. In that moment you could forget it all.
“Do you think that sailors feel lonely?” You asked instead, drawing circles absentmindedly on the palms of Childe’s hands. He wore gloves now, expensive ones, not like the mittens that were popular in Snezhnaya. It was so odd to watch him put them on each morning. How things had changed. “They must be lonely,” you continued now, “for there’s nothing but the ship, the water, and the stars above.”
Childe paused, staring off into the distance. He did that a lot recently. You didn’t begrudge him it. Sometimes, when he was in a frank sort of mood, he admitted that he didn’t like the Fatui’s underhanded nature. Better to fight something head on than attack from the shadows. He’d quickly added on that it was the Tsaritsa’s wish, and surely she must know better than him. But it must’ve been difficult, following a path so different than the one you were born to. Betraying your nature, every day of your life.
“It must be lonely sometimes.” He finally replied, glancing back at you. “But I don’t think they’re lonely, no. The stars may be far away, but they’re steadfast, unchanging. And sailors will always be able to rely on them.” You were silent, considering his views.
“Still... stars are so very cold.”
“Perhaps, but they’re also beautiful, are they not? And like I said, who ever heard of a star changing?” A pause, as it seemed Childe was steadying himself, dipping into unpleasant territory. “I hope I will always be your star, my love. I hope you will always be able to rely on me.”
“I will.” You promised, giving Childe a quick kiss. You meant it, even if you weren’t sure that the metaphor was apt. Childe was forever changing; his mannerisms, his name, his location, his words. Sometimes it seemed as if there was nothing left of Ajax, nothing but a small sliver of light, shivering in the darkness that was fate.
“And I will always remained steadfast in my love for you.” Childe promised in return. “For there is nothing more important to me than family, and you are my family. You are that which I hold closest to my heart, and I’ll never stop loving you. I promise.”
His words were smoother than they had been before, polished by the need to be appealing to those who heard it. But you knew they were true. All throughout your life, throughout the pain, the hardship, the feeling of slowly falling off a cliff, all throughout that the one thing that remained was the love between you and Childe. Even if you had nothing, at least you had that.
“Childe?” He grimaced at the word and you paused. “Ajax,” you began again, “are you happy?”
Childe didn’t reply, instead leaning over to kiss you. You reciprocated it gladly, not truly wanting an answer to your question, although a part of you desperately needed it. Was Childe happy? You couldn’t tell. But despite your newfound hatred for the Tsaritsa, your disdain for the gods which had grown in the years of your hardship, your long abandoned faith, you still prayed to the Seven that Childe was happy. Because he deserved it. Because you loved him.
You tried not to cry when he left, wanting to see him off with a smile and a wave, the way noble men and women would wave to the knights who were on their way to save the kingdom. But always your voice betrayed you, cracking and shaking, trembling violently against the knowledge that you wouldn’t see your loved one again, not for a very long time.
“Be careful.” You whispered, giving Childe one last hug.
“I will.” He assured you, kissing your forehead. “You be careful as well my love, I couldn’t stand it something were to happen to you. If anything happens, think of me, I’ll rush to your side immediately.”
“Don’t forget to write,” you replied, switching the subject so you didn’t have to think about the implications of Childe abandoning the Fatui, what might happen to him if he tried, “your letters are all I have.”
“I hope that’s not true!” Childe said, tone full of false mirth. “I hope you’re happy beloved, I hope you find happiness when I’m gone. Your life ought not to be spent waiting for me.”
“But you’re all I have.” You replied, staring down at the ground. “Everything has changed. My home, my work, my future. Even you’ve changed, you just keep changing and changing, running farther and farther away. But you’re still all I have. And I have to hold on to you, no matter what.”
Childe brought his hand to your cheek, raising your gaze up.
“I’m not changing my darling. No matter what I do, no matter where I go, I’m still Ajax. I’m still the man who wants to spend his life with you, who wants to travel the world with you, fighting monsters, sleeping under the stars at night. I’m still the man who wants to wake up with you every night and go to bed with you every morning. I’ll never run ahead of you, I’ll never leave you behind. Because if I’m all you have then you are what keeps me myself. You are why I can still be Ajax. And that will never change. So don’t despair, and don’t let yourself be swallowed up while I’m gone. Live your life to the fullest, I promise I’ll always be there, waiting for when you need me.”
Childe waved from the ship he’d boarded until it disappeared over the horizon. You waved back, even as your arm ached and your hand fell asleep. “Goodbye.” You whispered to the wind. There was no reply, but then again you weren’t looking for one.
Childe, Ajax, Tartaglia. These names all belonged to the one you loved. He was a whirlwind, a rogue current which had knocked you off your feet, carrying you into uncertainty. And yet you welcomed him, longed for him, loved him with all your soul.
Even if things kept changing, even if the Fatui’s hold on him only grew stronger, you’d still believe in him. He was your star, guiding you through a desolate ocean. Even if he sometimes disappeared behind the clouds, he’d always be there. You had to believe that, had to trust him.
He was your star after all.
Your Childe.
Your Ajax.
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Hi Abby! If you're taking requests, can I ask for a thomastair with “We would make a great couple.”? Thank you and take all the time you need!
Prompt number 9: “We would make a great couple.”
Fandom: The Last Hours
Ship: Thomastair
Genre: Modern au, Non TSCverse, Camp counselor au, Childhood friends who had a crush on each other and kissed once and then grew apart and found each other again to lovers, fluff, lot’s and lot’s of nostalgia
Prompt List | Writing Playlist
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(Flashbacks are in italics)
Camp. Alastair’s favourite time of the summer.
Nothing appealed to him more, then spending two weeks in an outdoor, mosquito infested campsite that had swamp water for showers and he loved having hormonal teenagers under his wing.
But if Alastair hated camp so much, why did he sign up as counsellor every summer? Well, as much as Alastair hated it here, there were just too many memories that he didn’t want to let go of.
Ever since he was a little boy, he’s attended this very summer camp. He’d made friends here; Tried smores for the first time by the campfire, surrounded by other kids his age; He’d met his first summer love here, and had his first kiss here as well.
Alastair let out a sigh as the nostalgia hit him. He picked up the boxes of saltine crackers from head counsellor Jem’s car and headed to the main cabin.
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“Alastair!” a voice called. Alastair rolled his eyes, he’d recognize that voice anywhere.
“Will!” he said back, his over exaggerated enthusiasm dripping with sarcasm.
“Don’t pretend you’re not excited to see me!” Will said, and tackled Alastair in a bear hug. “I’m not.” Alastair replied, his voice muffled by Will’s shoulder.
“Hey did you know there’s a new counsellor joining us this summer?” said Jesse, who was making an inventory of all the medicine. “Really?” asked Lucie, who was sorting out the pens and paper for her creative writing class. “Yeah, apparently he’d attended camp a few times before, back when he was a kid.” Will, who’d finally let go of Alastair, added.
Alastair raised an eyebrow. “Why would anyone want to come back here?” he asked. “I don’t know Alastair, why do you?” Lucie said, without missing a beat, and Will and Jesse snickered.
“Touché.” he said, and shrugged his shoulders, a small smile on his lips.
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An hour later, and the new counsellor was yet to arrive. The kids had started to trickle in, both familiar faces and new ones, and Alastair had to make sure the children under his care didn’t get lost or wander into the wrong cabin. Matthew, another counsellor, was notorious for losing the children, and heaven forbid Alastair made the same mistake as him.
“Orientation in the mess hall in half an hour!” called Jem and the counsellors headed to the main cabin to get ready.
“Seems like a no-show.” said Matthew, and the others murmured in agreement. “He’s on his way, he’ll be here.” said a worn out looking Jem. He was in charge and he did a pretty great job, but the poor guy needed a break. He cleared his throat and said,
“James, please don’t allow the kids to swim in the river this year, and Will, for heaven’s sake, keep them away from the poison ivy. Matthew, don’t you dare lose anyone this year, Lucie and Jesse, try to avoid unnecessary midnight Ouija board scares and Alastair, please don’t call the kid’s names.” and he looked at all of them.
“I just get on their level.” Alastair said, and shrugged at Jem.
He was not impressed.
“Fine.” Alastair said and slightly rolled hi eyes. He headed to the cabin he was in charge of, to rally the children to the mess hall.
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They were fifteen minutes into the orientation, and the new counsellor had still not arrived.
The children were actually pretty nice, and none of them had set their cabins on fire yet.
Alastair stood up front along with the other counsellors, while Jem spoke to the children.
“If you have any worries, please don’t hesitate to talk to your counsellor in charge. Avoid going near the lake without an adult, and don’t get late for your session. Punctuality is key here at-”
"I'm here!" A loud voice yelled from the back, interrupting Jem in the middle of his speech.
"I'm so sorry! My alarm didn't ring and I got caught in traffic and-"
Alastair frowned.. those eyes, why were they so familiar?
They reminded him of a similar pair, from many summers ago, But How? The boy he knew was small.
This guy was not small.
He was tall, like extremely tall, and he was muscular. He was good looking, Alastair had to admit, and those eyes were extremely captivating, and also somewhat familiar.
Jem let out an audible sigh, breaking Alastair out of his reverie.
“Everyone, meet your new counsellor, Thomas Lightwood.”
Thomas who?
Wait.
No.
The eyes.
No way.
Holy fucking shit!
Alastair almost fell off the stage.
Thomas smiled sheepishly and scratched the nape of his neck, and Alastair was suddenly whisked away to that one summer, all those years ago.
“Um, hi, is this the bear cabin?” a timid voice asked, interrupting a thirteen year old Alastair from his book. He looked up at a small boy with hazel eyes, who was scratching the back of his neck, with a small smile on his face.
Alastair’s heart did a little flip.
“Yep.” Alastair responded, as nonchalantly as possible.
“Oh, well hi! I’m Thomas!”
“Alastair.” he responded, and they shook hands, both of them smiling.
“Alastair.” Will said, and punched him on the shoulder.
“Ow!” he semi-yelled, and punched Will back. “What the hell?” he asked, voice laced with annoyance.
“The meeting is over, let’s go back to the main cabin.”
Alastair nodded his head and looked ahead, and his eyes locked with a pair of hazel ones. Thomas’s face held a mixture of recognition and surprise. His cheeks were tinted pink, and Alastair felt his face heat up.
“Hello.” Thomas mouthed, and Alastair smiled.
These two weeks were most definitely going to be something.
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Alastair and Thomas hadn’t interacted much these few days. Camp was ending in three days, and Alastair had mixed feelings about interacting with Thomas.
There had been the occasional wave and helping each other lift boxes, but other than that they hadn’t interacted much.
Alastair whistled to himself tunelessly, his mind full of thoughts about Thomas, as he arranged the sticks, marshmallows, crackers and chocolate for the smores. He remembered when he and Thomas had snuck out after stealing a box of chocolates from the main cabin, and headed to the lake.
“Do you think they’ll notice?” Thomas asked, and Alastair shook his head.
“If they do they won’t know it was us.” he said and giggled, and Thomas joined him. He looked at the lake, and its clear waters reflecting the sunlight. They both sat in silence, enjoying the chocolate and each other's company.
The kiss happened two days later, on the last day of camp. The campfire was in full swing, everyone was singing and dancing and yelling, it was exhilarating. Towards the end, things mellowed. Everyone went back to the cabin, except for Thomas and Alastair.
“Quite nice isn’t it?” Thomas said, breaking the silence. Alastair hummed in response
“I’m going to miss you.” he said suddenly, and Thomas looked at him in shock.
“Me-me too.” he said, and smiled.
Alastair turned to face Thomas, he looked beautiful, that was all he could think. Slowly they inched closer. It was just a short peck on the lips, But it felt like more for fifteen year old Alastair.
They both looked at each other and grinned, and Alastair felt like he was in heaven.
They'd parted from each other on the last day of camp, promising to meet each other next year, but when next year came, Thomas was nowhere to be seen, And very soon he became a distant memory, a mere summer love.
"Hey!" An all too familiar voice said, and Alastair's heart did that thing again.
"Hey Thomas.." Alastair said, And smiled at the former.
"Brings back memories doesn't It?" Thomas said, looking at the smore ingredients, and Alastair raised an eyebrow. Thomas seemed to realize what he said and grinned. "I was talking about camp.. and smores and campfires.." he finished awkwardly.
"Yeah, yep I was thinking the same thing." Alastair said, and cleared his throat.
"So…." He began, attempting to dispel the awkwardness, "What have you been up to Thomas?"
"Well," Thomas began, "I've been studying, and well you know, just getting around. You?"
Alastair nodded. "Pretty much the same thing."
"Oh, Well, I've got to go get something for Matthew, I'll see you around." Thomas said, and began to walk away.
"Do you remember the kiss?" Alastair said suddenly and mentally slapped himself. "Nice going dumbass." He internally scolded.
Thomas looked like a deer caught in headlights. Finally, "Yeah, I do.. It was nice."
Alastair nodded lamely and rocked back and forth on his heels. "Do you regret it?" He asked.
"What? No! Never! It was one of the best things that happened to me that summer." Thomas said, and laughed.
Alastair smiled at that. There it was again, the little backflips his heart did.
"You know," he said, about to say one of the riskiest things he'd ever said, "We would make a great couple." He held his breath, and Thomas looked like he'd stopped functioning altogether.
"I-" Thomas shook his head. "I've got to go.. I'm bye!" He said, and ran away before Alastair could say anything, and he stood there, wishing the last ten minutes hadn't happened
------------------------------------------------------------------------------It was the last night at camp, and Alastair and Thomas had skillfully avoided each other. Alastair was a little upset. Sure, he hadn't seen Thomas in years, but he'd never grown as close to another man as he had with Thomas, and seeing him again had rekindled something in him.
Oh Well, he'd blown it anyway.
He stared at the growing campfire as everyone hustled around him. Finally Jem stepped forward and cleared his throat.
"These past few days have been extremely memorable and truly remarkable." He said, and Alastair couldn't help but laugh softly. Jem always had a tendency to use big words to address things important to him.
"I thank you all for attending and I hope you had a good time. Enjoy this final night to the fullest, and I hope to see you all next year." He finished, and everyone cheered.
The campfire was perfect. Everyone sang songs and ate to their hearts heart's content. Will attempted to start one of his shenanigans, but a disapproving glance from Jem stopped him.
He was going to miss this.
Once everything had died down and everyone had headed back to the cabin, Alastair sat by the campfire as it slowly dwindled, and looked at the stars, randomly naming stars and constellations.
"Orion's belt is my favourite, but only because it's the easiest to find."
Alastair turned, only to find Thomas settled next to him.
"Hey, not going to bed?" Alastair asked.
Thomas shook his head. "I wanted to tell you something about earlier."
Alastair sat up. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable." He began, "My mind was all over the place and I didn't think it through."
Thomas shook his head. "I agree with You."
"Huh?"
"I think we'd make a great couple too."
Alastair laughed. Words couldn't describe how happy he felt.
"But maybe we should take things slow." Thomas said and Alastair nodded his head.
"Of course, maybe go on a few dates first, get each other's numbers and then put a label on it." He said, and they both chuckled.
Alastair's chest felt fuzzy and warm. Thomas looked beautiful in the moonlight. Thomas was looking at Alastair funny.
"Hey do you think kissing goes against taking it slow?" He asked.
Alastair shook his head "Uhhhh. Why do you ask?"
"Because I'm going to kiss you now." And then Thomas's lips were on his, soft, slow and sweet. Alastair kisses him back, wrapping his hands around his neck. So as the fire crackled on and the stars shone in the sky, Alastair felt like he was fifteen again.
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A/N: @writeforjordelia This is the end! Yeet! *throws smores everywhere* I'm sorry this took so long, but this is it I guess. This ended up becoming way too long but I hope you liked it nia!
-Abby💕
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The Borrower of L’Manburg (Pt.2)
Notes: Hey y’all! My friend has got the second part of their story finished, it’s getting good!
Over the last month since your capture, you had gotten used to Schlatt's yelling and chaos on a usual basis. You sure didn't like it, but it's not like you could just ask him to shut up or quiet down. He didn't respect you whatsoever, he hardly even acknowledges your existence anymore- not that you were complaining. Your friendship with Quackity had grown in that time too. You've grown to trust him to carry you with him and take you some places around DreamSMP, though only when he has his suit on so that you can hide in his chest pocket. Neither of you wanted anybody else knowing about you, and you especially didn't want Dream to know about your interactions with humans. You've still kept your mouth shut, refusing to talk about your past to anybody.
In the last week or so, Schlatt and Quackity had been talking a lot about a festival that they were throwing, to 'celebrate democracy' or whatever. You hadn't paid much attention to it since Quackity told you that you probably shouldn't come, and it wasn't like Schlatt would allow him to bring you anyway. So, when the day came, you just tried to sleep through it. Unfortunately, fate has decided against you.
You wake up to the loudest boom you've probably ever heard, followed by lots of people screaming. You can faintly make out Schlatt's maniacal laughter, and a vaguely familiar voice that you can't quite place screaming, "Techno!" That name woke you right up, all the way. You hear the front door open and slam downstairs, and Quackity stumbles up the stairs in a rush.
"Holy shit. Holy shit." He's breathing hard, like he just ran a mile. His eyes are wide and he frantically motions with both his hands. "I saw it. T-Techno. He just-!" He's cut off by the door opening and closing again downstairs. He gasps, almost… scared?
"Oh Quackity! Guess who I got?!" Schlatt takes his time making his way up the stairs, but when he arrives, you gasp in shock. Between his fingers is another person- and he's your size. Schlatt has the back of their shrunken suit between his thumb and index finger, dangling him a block and a half in the air. He seems young, and he has scruffy brown hair. You can see a little bit of blood on his lip.
"That's… That's Tubbo! Be careful with him, he'll get hurt!"
"What do we care? He's a traitor, Quackity!"
"He's still just a kid, man!"
"What's your obsession with keeping these little things safe? Speaking of that…" Schlatt lays his eyes on you, his wicked grin sending a shiver down your spine. "Is this what happened to you?" He jostles Tubbo towards you, almost showing him off. "Did the piggy man get you? Oh no! Poor little 'villager' girl, scared of Technoblade." He pouts his lip and snickers. Your face heats up. What the fuck happened at the festival?
"Knock it off! Just give him to me, I'll take care of them both."
"Nah. I don't trust you with him. He's too important. I'm gonna put him in another box- another Tubbox! Do you like boxes yet, Tubbo?"
The kid looks at you with tears in his eyes, looking scared out of his mind. "H-Help…" he croaks. Before you or Quackity can do anything, Schlatt turns and walks away, not to be seen for the rest of the day.
~
When you wake up the next day, you hear the distant yelling of Schlatt, just like normal. But today didn't feel normal, especially with what happened yesterday. You don't hear Quackity's laughter and joking along with Schlatt like normal. After a little while of not caring to listen to their conversation, you hear striking against the Whitehouse. You tune in, but you can only hear fragments every now and then.
"Stop, dude! Stop! I built this!"
"I'm surrounded by pussies and soyboys! Help me destroy this or get the fuck off my property."
You hear an arrow slide back on a bow, and Schlatt scoff. "You won't do it. You're too much of a bitch." It takes a few moments before the arrow is released, and you cringe at the sound of Schlatt dying. He'll be returning from spawn any minute, and he'll be pissed.
Quackity runs up the stairs a few moments later, scooping you up immediately. "We gotta go, (Y/n)." You yelp in surprise and hug onto his thumb.
"What about Tubbo?" You've been worrying about him since yesterday.
"I already got him, don't worry!" Quackity holds you close, hiding you against his chest as he moves. He speedwalks out of the partially destroyed house, making his way down the hill behind it and into the forest. When you look up at his face, he looks very upset.
"What's wrong? What happened back there?"
"Schlatt is… such a dick. He- I'm not," he sighs and slips you into his right chest pocket as he walks. "I'm not Vice President anymore. Schlatt was tearing down the Whitehouse and I tried to stop him. He just used me to get into power." You stay silent and slump down into his pocket, letting him talk. Quackity paces among the trees for a moment before turning back around and heading towards Manburg. "Should I even go back? Should I even fucking go back, man? Because… I don't even know anymore. I shot him."
Suddenly he freezes, and you can feel his body tense up. "Oh, fuck!" He takes off sprinting away from Manburg again, trying to keep his suit jacket steady, and you can hear the hooves of a horse running closer. You press your hands against the sides of the pockets to stop yourself from flying all over the place. "Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off! Ohoho shit!" He starts hiding behind trees. The horse slows down to a stop, and Quackity peaks out from behind the tree. "Take it off. All of it." You hear the clanking of armour being dropped on the ground.
"Why… Why did you just run off- Why are you in the woods, Big Q?" It's the same familiar voice as yesterday.
"Tommy…!" You hear a muffled voice whisper from the other side of Quackity's jacket, the left side chest pocket. That must be where Tubbo is.
"Uh… I… live here." They both pause and laugh lightly. "Listen, Tommy, we gotta talk." Quackity steps out all the way from behind the tree. You're not sure if you want to risk peaking out yet, but you figure you might as well just to see. You just barely peak your head up, only your eyes are visible over the pocket fabric.
"It's been a while, Mr. Vice President." The familiar voice, Tommy, looks about as young as Tubbo. He has blond hair and bright blue eyes.
"No, no, not Vice President anymore." He rubs the back of his neck and chuckles somberly. "Schlatt's an asshole. He's taking down the Whitehouse and going fucking power crazy."
"What are you saying, Big Q?"
"I wanna overthrow Schlatt. Maybe we can... work together or something…" Quackity mumbles.
"I mean, how do I know this isn't a setup?" Tommy glares.
You hear rustling as Quackity digs out a cloth from his left pocket, in which is holding Tubbo. "I-I brought Tubbo."
Tommy tilts his head, then looks around the forest. "Where is he then?" Quackity offers him the cloth.
"Tommy! I'm right here!"
Tommy's eyes widen and his jaw drops when he sees Tubbo. "W-What…?" He clenches his jaw and glares at Quackity, pulling out his netherite sword. "What the hell! What did you do to him?!" Tommy screeches, causing you and Tubbo both to cover your ears simultaneously. This kid is loud.
"I didn't do anything! I swear!"
Tommy sheaths his sword, and takes Tubbo in the cloth. "Tubbo, Jesus Christ man! Are you okay?" You see Tubbo look back and catch your eyes, then look back at Tommy.
"Yeah. I'm okay. Quackity kept me safe." Tubbo stutters. Tommy gives Quackity a nod in thanks.
"So… can we join Pogtopia?"
"'We?' Who else?"
Quackity looks down at you, and you hesitantly give him a nod of approval, closing your eyes as his hand comes straight at you. He pulls you out with cupped hands to show Tommy. "This is (Y/n). Schlatt captured her about a month ago."
You slink backwards as Tommy flips his shit, but keeps careful with Tubbo. "What the fuck! How is this happening to people?! Oh my god, it's a woman! Who is she?! I've never even seen her before!"
"She's told us that she was a villager."
"That looks nothing like a villager! Villagers are ugly!" Tommy laughs, making you giggle. 'I mean, that's fair.'
"That's not nice!" Tubbo scolds, then looks at you and smiles. "Hi!" You wave back at him with a smile.
"So, can we join you?"
"Okay, okay, fine. Follow me, Big Q."
Quackity stores you back in his pocket as Tommy puts his armor back on, and Tommy just keeps Tubbo in his hands as he and Quackity walk and talk. They laugh and joke like they're old friends. You have your head peaking out the whole way there, surveying the land. You've never seen this many trees pass by you so fast. By the time you arrive, the moon has risen and all the stars are out. Tommy breaks two blocks, revealing a little hidey hole in the wall with barely enough room for three humans.
"What? This is Pogtopia? This is-"
"No, shut up! Down this stairway." Tommy leads Quackity down a two by two spiral staircase, right down into a giant ravine. Quackity gasps.
"Holy shit, Tommy! Is this Pogtopia?" He looks around in wonder, as do you. The ravine is decorated with lamps and extinguished campfires, and it actually feels somewhat homely.
"Yeah! Here, let me make a little space for Tubbo and then I'll show you around while we talk."
"Can we make a small room for Tubbo and (Y/n)? We can give them time to talk, too." You nod in agreement with Quackity, Tubbo probably needs some explanation.
"Yeah, yeah!" Tommy hands Quackity a diamond pickaxe, and they mine out a space about the same size as the room up the staircase, and Tommy places down two beds. He gently places Tubbo down in the middle of them, and Quackity reaches his hand in the pocket and plucks you out, thumb and index finger holding your sides.
"Here, you can probably explain everything to Tubbo, right (Y/n)?" He sets you down next to him on the beds.
You nod. "I-I'll do my best!" Tommy and Quackity walk out, and you wait until you hear their footsteps fade. You turn to Tubbo and sit down crisscrossed. "Are you okay? This must be difficult and weird."
"Y-Yeah… I'm doing alright. Just… processing everything." He fiddles with the cloth that he still has from Quackity.
"It was Technoblade, right?"
Tubbo nods. "I was just so confused. Wilbur told me he was on our side! And… Why didn't he just kill me? I would've respawned!" He sighs, frustrated.
"Wait, what? Technoblade is on your side? Is he here?!" You look around frantically.
"Well, I don't think so, not right now." He tilts his head in confusion of your panicked state. "Why? What's wrong with Technoblade?"
"He did this to me, too! He also… he killed my p-" You freeze at the sound of a new pair of footsteps, coming from somewhere close outside the ravine. They pass right by, all you can see is a raggedy trench coat flash by before heading up the stairs. You wait until you can no longer hear anything anymore. "N-Nevermind that."
Tubbo gives you a worried look. "Okay, I won't press you on it, I guess. But we are in this together, you know? We're in the same boat!" He smiles at you, reassuringly, and you nod with the same smile. You decide to change the subject.
"Your accent," you realize, "you're from L'manburg, aren't you? Tommy as well?"
"Yes! How do you know about that?" His eyes sparkle in excitement.
"I used to live there!" You smile at all the memories you have from your time living there, while messing with the blanket below you. "It was far after I got shrunk. I moved in after the war, I thought it would be safe for a while. Not long enough, apparently."
"That's awesome! I didn't even know you were there! You must be really good at hiding!"
"Not so much at running, though, since I got caught!" You laugh. The two of you joke and share stories until you hear three pairs of footsteps from above, coming down the stairs. You recognize one as Quackity, and figure that one of the other two must be Tommy. Speak of the devil, you hear the kid's voice.
"Okay, Wilbur, you can't freak out at this okay? Just… be calm!" Wilbur? You swear you've heard that name before. Oh, wait, shit. From Schlatt. You had almost forgotten through all the chaos today.
"That's a lot coming from you, Tommy!" Another man with a L'manburg accent quips as the three draw closer to the bottom of the stairs. You move closer to Tubbo just for the sake of feeling some sense of security. Tubbo, on the other hand, gasps in excitement.
"Wilbur!" He whispers to you.
Quackity walks in the room first, checking on you and Tubbo before motioning for Tommy and Wilbur to come in. You notice the raggedy trench coat Wilbur is wearing before watching his eyes widen and his jaw drop.
"Wh- Tubbo?! Is that Tubbo?!" Wilbur grabs Tommy's arm, but keeps his eyes on you two. "What the fuck happened? What is this?"
"Yes, that's Tubbo! He's been… uh… smallified!" Tommy makes up a word, making Quackity laugh, but Quackity stops when Wilbur shoots him an icey glare. Wilbur carefully makes his way over to the bedside, causing you to hide behind the cloth from Quackity. He pays no attention to you, however.
"Tubbo, what the fuck did Schlatt do to you?" You can see a flame in his eyes that seems to be intensifying by what he sees in front of him now.
"No, no, he didn't do this to me." Wilbur raises an eyebrow, sparing you a quick glance that you would've missed if you had blinked. "He really didn't! He just… took advantage of the situation." Tubbo looks down nervously.
"Well, what the hell happened then?"
"Well, it all started when you lost the election, and-"
"Tubbo, who did this to you, god damnit?"
"Technoblade!" He squeaks out.
"What the fuck? That bastard!" Tommy fumes. "Big Q, you didn't tell me that!"
"Well-!"
"Shut up, everyone," Wilbur commands as he stands up, "We'll talk to Techno about this when we see him. I haven't seen him in a while and I have no idea when we'll see him again, that's just how he is. So for now, that's a problem for future us." He looks at the other humans, and points at Quackity. "Quackity, you need to get to work on plan A. You know what'll happen if it fails, so make it work." He pushes past the two, and his trench coat flaps behind him as he walks out of the room.
Tommy and Quackity wait until they hear him get all the way up the stairs, then look at each other.
"He's lost it!"
"Oh yeah, he's gone completely nuts."
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I wanna know more 'bout mafia bros relationship and the role of each one inside their job.
Alright!! So this is the new canon for my version of the mafia family!!!
Disclaimer because I need to add this apparently: I’m not the original creator of mafiatale, mafiafell, or mafiaswap. I just like stealing characters and twisting them to fit my own agenda.
So all six of the mafia boys; snipe, bruiser, butch, boss, ace and slim are actually direct brothers. Their dad, mafiatale gaster or also known as roulette, was a bit of a man whore and had a lot of side chicks.
So each set of brothers came from a different mother.
The mafiafell bros, butch and boss, were from roulettes main and longest lasting girlfriend. They were raised in the mafia together and have grown up used to the violence and politics
The mafiaswap brother; ace and slim, grew up in poverty and were found and picked up by madam (mafia toriel) who basically forced gaster to get his butt in gear and take care of these kids too.
Last bit not least, the mafiatale brothers; snipe and bruiser, actually had a somewhat normal childhood up until snipe was about 15 and bruiser was 4. Their mum was caught in a rival gangs crossfire. This of course led to gaster finding out he had even more kids, and the boys being forced into the mafia.
The relationship between all the brothers is a bit complicated. While they might not always get along, they will always have each other’s backs.
Each set of brothers has a decent relationship with the mafiafell brothers being the closest to each other and the mafiaswap brothers being the most distant.
The ones who get along best together are:
Snipe and ace. Ace is the one who took the time to train snipe and help him adjust to the crime life. Those two are inseparable and honestly are closer to each other than thier own full brother
Butch and boss. They both grew up together and for the longest time, thier brother was the only one they had. Those two share everything together and despite the frequent arguments and teasing, they’ve never disagreed on anything important
Bruiser and slim. It’s not so much that they’re best friends or anything, but those two are the most moral of the bunch. If both of them had a choice, they would drop the mafia life in an instant. Bruiser actually actively rebels by changing records so that new areas are considered highly protected and he swindles funds to help out people in need. And slim will cover for him.
The best way to sum up thier jobs is:
Boss: he’s head honcho over the skeleton brothers. Eveyone reports to him. Boss also tends to take care of training any new recruits and interrogating enemies
Snipe: he’s second under boss. Both of them work together to keep watch over the henchmen. Snipe also takes a sort of diplomatic role when it comes to negotiations
Butch: he’s easily the monster mafias not so secret weapon. Butch is the heavy hitter. His job is to find the target and do as much damage as possible. Nobody ever finds the remains of anyone hunted down by the butcher
Ace: he’s the spy/intel guy. Ace is extremely charismatic and sly, and he’s got one heck of a memory. He’s the one who gathers all the latest gossip and will make new buddies or find dirt on enemies
Bruiser: he acts as both a bodyguard and a messenger. Bruiser is like the jack of all trades guy. He’s just sent wherever they need him
Slim: he’s the treasurer. Slim is rather squeamish when it comes to fighting and prefers a more behind the scenes role. He takes care of the paperwork and finances.
Here the old interactions post for tale and fell
And swap and the other two
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