#otp: calm after storm

[mothercetrion]

I got bored and decided to do this OTP ask meme with Johnshi. enjoy!

1) Who rocks the Ferris Wheel seat and who flips out and begs them to stop? Johnny. he is a bit immature and childish sometimes, and being on a Ferris wheel just brings it out. Kenshi is likely irritated at first, but it grows on him quickly.

2) Who is always horny and will have sex at any time, at any place? Johnny. he has a big house, and he loves to experiment. Kenshi is open to trying, but he loves having sex in Johnny's bed the most.

3) Who is more into taking showers/baths together? Who tries to make it relaxing and who tries to make it sexy time? before they get together, Kenshi typically showers, and Johnny mostly showers with the occasional bath (self-care!). after they get together, Johnny is the one to suggest a bath together, and Kenshi agrees after some consideration. it's honestly kind of nice! they're more likely to shower together though; it takes less time to prepare and they can be physically closer together. regardless, they like doing either together, though Johnny likes it more.

4) Who likes to walk around the house naked and who tells the other to go put some clothes on? Johnny loves not wearing clothes, and he's more likely to have a shirt off than to a shirt on. we've seen him shirtless in damn near every game, after all. Kenshi doesn't mind it, however.

5) Who sleeps on the couch when they get into a fight? Kenshi. he is more likely to storm out in a fight, so he'll just go to the couch. sometimes, Johnny will go after him immediately, but other times, he knows that Kenshi needs some space and leaves him there for the night.

6) Who takes photos of the other while they sleep? Johnny. he is convinced that Kenshi is the sexiest man on the planet, plus he needs pictures to prove to social media that his boyfriend is super hot! Kenshi doesn't like making too many social media appearances, but he's on there a few times. regardless, photos of Kenshi sleeping are in abundance on Johnny's phone.

7) Who said “I love you” first? and who ends their arguments in a fight with “Because I love you”? Johnny has said "I love you" first in every relationship he's been in…except his relationship with Kenshi. after a difficult night for Kenshi (nightmares are not fun), he and Johnny are lying together in bed, and Kenshi suddenly gets the courage to tell him how he truly feels. Johnny is stunned, but he reciprocates immediately and admits that he's known for a while. Kenshi will also end arguments with "because I love you" when his protectiveness or his worries over Johnny's safety kick in. the argument will start loud, as arguments tend to do, but Kenshi's voice gets softer and quieter when he tells Johnny that he wants him to be safe because he wants him to come home and he loves him. Johnny is touched.

8) Who likes to wear the other's sweatshirts? Kenshi loves wearing Johnny's clothes, mostly his T-shirts. Johhny goes absolutely nuts seeing Kenshi wear anything that he owns.

9) Who wakes the other up in the middle of the night to tell them a cool dream they had? Who has the most nightmares, and who sings them back to sleep after? neither wakes the other, but if Johnny has a cool dream, he'll tell Kenshi about it in the morning. Kenshi definitely has more nightmares than Johnny. dreams of his Yakuza days or his blinding can appear out of nowhere, and they always leave him terribly shaken (or in pain, depending on the extent of the dream). Johnny will hold him close and tell him stories from throughout his career until he calms down and/or falls asleep. the sound of Johnny's voice is shockingly comforting.

10) Who is more likely to cheat at games? Johnny. he likes winning, and he will pull all the punches to make it happen. Kenshi doesn't catch him at first, but when he does, he's pissed. Johnny always swears that he'll stop, but it's only temporary.

11) Who makes fun of the other for having a crush on them, and who has to remind them that they are in a relationship? Johnny is a teasing bastard, but Kenshi secretly loves it. Johnny will catch Kenshi looking just a little too happy around him, and he'll ask if he has a crush on him. Kenshi counters that they're dating, but he loves the conversations when they happen.

12) Who starts a food fight in the kitchen? Johnny. again, he's immature and childish. however, he does more of the cooking between them, so any fights are pretty rare. if he makes a mess, he'll make it worse if he's in a teasing mood.

13) Who initiates duets? and who is the better singer? most of the time, Johnny will initiate a duet if they're in a car together. Kenshi is less likely to sing along unless they're at home, singing quietly to one another in Johnny's bedroom or their kitchen late at night. they both can sing, but Kenshi is a shockingly good singer, though he denies it.

14) Who starts the hand-holding? Who grabs the other's butt? Who slides their arm around their waist? Who likes to put their fingers in the belt loops? Johnny initially started the hand-holding, but Kenshi gets a lot more confident in initiating it later in their relationship. they only grab butts in absolute privacy, but Johnny is more likely. both of them will wrap an arm around the other's waist and put their fingers in the belt loops of their pants. it's usually to pull them closer when they're hugging and/or kissing.

15) Who likes to write the other's name on their wrist? neither. they keep mementos/reminders of one another in different ways when they're not together.

16) Who is more seductive when they are drunk? and who is louder in bed? Kenshi is much more seductive after he's gotten drunk. Johnny is too, but Kenshi's seductiveness increases a lot more than Johnny's, so it's more noticeable. Johnny is so damn loud when he's in bed, and he cannot help it. however, Kenshi loves that and can't get enough, and he will do anything to keep Johnny happy, even at the cost of another one of his senses.

17) Who is more protective? Kenshi. he will do whatever he needs to do to keep Johnny safe from the Yakuza, even if it means tapping back into his gangster/criminal side. Johnny thinks that Kenshi's protectiveness is incredibly sexy, but he assures him that he will be safe.

18) Who talks to the other while they are sleeping? Johnny (and secretly Kenshi). if Johnny's awake and he's bored, he'll talk to Kenshi until he gets tired. sometimes though, he'll tell Kenshi how proud of him he is and how grateful he is to have him as a boyfriend. Kenshi will whisper how much he loves Johnny when he knows the actor can't hear him.

19) Who drives and who has the window seat? (ignoring how obvious this one is for the sake of the game LMAO) Kenshi had a license before he was blinded, and every now and then, Johnny can convince him to drive with Sento strapped to his back and sunglasses on his face. most of the time, though, Johnny drives. he likes it a lot, and Kenshi likes being in the passenger seat.

20) Who falls asleep in the other's lap and who carries them to bed? both of them! they're both super busy, and they're both tired after a long day. Johnny is more likely to fall asleep on Kenshi's lap, in the middle of telling Kenshi about his day, but Kenshi is thankfully very strong. if Kenshi falls asleep, he usually wakes up in the middle of Johnny carrying him, and he will stumble up the stairs and fall asleep within seconds of hitting the bed.

21) Who cuts the other's hair? neither. Johnny does not trust anyone but his hairdresser with his hair, and Kenshi feels the same way. however, they'll brush the other's hair (or run their fingers through it) all day.

22) Who is super bad at sexting? and who sends them encouraging messages throughout the day? both? Kenshi is bad at sexting because it's unfamiliar, and Johnny is bad at sexting because some of the things he will send Kenshi are not things you send over text. Johnny is more likely to send an encouraging text, especially if he knows Kenshi will be busy and/or stressed. they always help cheer Kenshi up.

23) Who thinks they are not good enough for the other's love? and who’s more afraid of losing the other? Who thinks they keep messing up, only for the other to tell them they don’t need to worry? Johnny is a recently divorced, faltering celebrity. he's not getting the gigs he needs to keep up the image that he wants to. sometimes he feels like Kenshi deserves a lot better than that. Kenshi assures him that being with Johnny is what he wants, regardless of if he's super famous. Kenshi is terrified of the Yakuza somehow getting a hold of Johnny to get back at him for leaving, hence his protective side. Johnny always assures him that he can protect himself and will let him know if something is going on that could be because of the Yakuza. I feel like Johnny would be a little more concerned about messing up considering his track record, but "messing up" in a relationship comes with the territory. both of them can be pretty different, and neither of them has had a partner quite like the other before. but they're willing to learn!

24) Who starts random slow dancing with the other in the kitchen? Who holds the other just above the ground and kisses them? Johnny. he loves dancing, but he loves dancing with Kenshi more. they'll hold one another close and sway as long as they can, listening to soft music from one of their phones. they're so close to the same height that lifting one another just off the ground is difficult, but they both love kissing when they're alone like this.

25) Who says shitty puns and sex jokes just to see the other giggle and blush? Johnny. he's much more pun-savvy than Kenshi. many puns will land and make Kenshi laugh, but others, like sex jokes, will not make him laugh…until they're in the bedroom, and then Johnny's jokes hit much differently (in the best way) and leave him flustered as hell.

26) Who kissed first? Johnny. he's more likely to make a physical move than Kenshi is, and he's the one to initiate that first kiss after a romantic evening at Johnny's house. Kenshi was surprised, but he was quick to reciprocate.

27) Who orders takeout at two in the morning? and who wakes the other up at three in the morning to go downstairs with them to get a glass of water because it’s too dark? Johnny gets bored if he can't sleep. the smell and/or sound of Johnny eating at his desk or in the damn bed will wake Kenshi, but Johnny always gets a serving for him (just in case he wakes up). neither will wake the other to go downstairs for water, but if they're both awake, they'll go together.

28) Who writes poems/stories and love songs about the other? Do they sing the songs they write for them? Johnny is the more creative type, and he can be poetic if he really wants to be. he's not likely to share it with Kenshi unless it's perfect in his eyes, and that's rare since it's a less familiar medium to him.

29) Who does some crazy stunt to try and impress the other and who ends up driving them to the emergency room after it backfires? they're both pretty reckless, but Johnny has gotten hurt more since their relationship began. Kenshi isn't impressed when he pulls off something, but he will help him if he gets hurt, all while chastising him for his stupidity. however, Kenshi is a lot more worried if Johnny gets hurt on set, which has happened before since he does his own stunts. it usually doesn't require a hospital visit by the time Kenshi sees him, but he'll dote on him and force him to rest all the same.

30) Who is embarrassed when they have to wear their glasses and who thinks they look super cute? Kenshi obviously doesn't need glasses, and Johnny doesn't either, buuuuut Johnny does wear sunglasses! and sometimes when they're in public, Johnny will lend Kenshi a pair so he can blend in. Johnny thinks he looks great.

#johnny cage #kenshi takahashi #johnshi #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #otp ask memes #mine #n/sfw #posting this now and will rb in the morning for everyone to see :) #also. 7 is part of the next fic i'm writing #fingers crossed i finish it before thursday

[the-loveliest-lotus]

OTP ask - 16! I am not 100% sure which pairing so pick your fave 💙

Eee, I decided to go with the flow of inspiration (and apparently the flavor of the evening is a dusting of angst with sweetness, or sort of hurt/comfort), so doing an OT3 with Lucy and Pickles and Dick after Nathan destroys the master album. 16- Write about a hug between your ship. 

Lucy was on her couch, fuming about not being able to go to Bali with Dick because of all of the storms. They would have to wait until tomorrow or maybe even the next day to go on their trip, and after the blood, sweat, and tears they had put into making that album, she had been looking forward to getting the fuck out of Dodge for a while.

She heard her door creak and said, "I didn't expect Jean Pierre to be able to make us such a complex fruit salad that quickly, the man's a machi-" he voice trailed off as she looked up at Pickles, who had a bloody nose and was standing at her door looking haunted.

Lucy dropped the joint she was rolling and walked over to him. "Babes, what happened?"

Pickles snapped out of his stupor and even though his voice sounded like he was in anguish, she could see the utter flaming rage in his eyes, "He destroyed it. He broke the fuckin' Master, Luce."

Lucy's eyes widened, that wasn't exactly a small thing, but there was something more pressing to handle, "Pickles, you're bleeding."

Pickles touched his face and chuckled darkly, "Yeah, he uh, shoved me ahff with the wooden end of an axe when I tried ta stahp him."

She was gonna fucking strangle Nathan with her bare hands. She was gonna beat the living shit out of him for laying a finger on Pickles. She was flooded with rage, but before she started fuming, she could see the look in Pickles' eyes. Lucy put her arms around him and pulled him in tight, and he let himself collapse into her arms, his arms pulling her in even tighter and just holding on for dear life. They could deal with his injuries soon. With everything else soon. Right now, this was what they both needed.

Lucy heard footsteps and when they came to a stop she looked over at Dick. Her voice cracked slightly as she said, "Nathan destroyed the Master record."

Dick was amazed that he had the wherewithal not to drop the fruit salad that he was holding. He took a calming breath, knowing he was this shy of snapping, and put the bowl down on one of her dressers. His arms wrapped around the two of them wordlessly, knowing that all three of them needed this before any of them decided to go and deal with reality.

#metalocalypse #lucy skye desmond #pickles the drummer #dick knubbler #mtl oc #metalocalypse oc #the wicker man mtl #ask answered #canon x canon x oc #canon x oc #polyamory #the psychedelic sandwich

[talaverse]

List of Angst Prompts

☆ Watching the sunset together, Person A being oblivious yet ecstatic with the scenery before them, while Person B keeps the pain to themselves knowing that this will be their last sunset together.

☆ Person A is a huge fan of thrifting. One day, they thrifted a vintage camera for a cheaper price. To their surprise, the contents stored were left untouched. Curiosity eats Person A whole and looked through each and every memory that were meant to be left behind... bound to be forgotten.

☆ “hey, are you still there?”

“yeah... still here.”

“good.”

☆ “no matter where i go, all these roads lead me to what i once called a home.”

☆ Person A has had a history of luck fucking them over all the time. When meeting Person B, everything seems to fall back into place, like the ocean calming down after a storm... but what they don't know is that greater tragedy is about to head their way.

☆ “i regret you all the time.”

“you don't mean that, do you?”

“i meant it with every piece of my heart and soul.”

☆ “i can't leave you.”

“yes you can, you just don't want to.”

☆ “if you leave, will you come back another time?”

☆ Person A has bad coping habits. Person B tries to convince Person A to stop and opt for healthier coping strategies, but with stubbornness engraved into Person A's soul— they end up getting worse.

☆ Person B puts all their blood, sweat and tears for a project that ends up getting a low grade. Person A tries to comfort them but ends up hurting Person B even more.

Note: feel free to request more prompts and in the future i will make one of them into a fic with an otp of your choice!

— forever yours, Tala ☆

#prompts are open #fic prompt #au prompt #prompt list #otp prompts #angst #angsty prompts #writing #writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #kpop au #kpop fanfic

[narcissa-black-supermacy]

58. Who’s more likely to hold a grudge after an argument?

for Prongsfoot, if you don't mind :)

hmmm I feel like James is the type to get offended and hurt, but he won’t hold a grudge. Sirius on the other hand, brushes things off easier, but if he feels like he’s right about something, he will hold that drudge on a leash if needed.

Send me an OTP question from the list and a ship and I’ll respond with a drabble.

James sits in place, watching the plate of untouched roast beef at the centre of the table. It’s gone completely cold by now, no sign of the waves of steam rising off of it that have been there when it’s just been placed on the table.

He pushes the glasses up into his hair and runs his hands over his face, pausing to press them against his eyes as he heaves out a long sigh. The day has started out so well, and he has no idea how they ended up here.

He knows that logically and ideally, Sirius is best to be left alone in these situations, on his own to fume over his grudges and offences, let them boil over until the waters calm down and get back down. But the glint of hurt in Sirius’ eyes as he snarled angrily and stormed off keeps playing in his mind on repeat, even hours later now that he’s gotten back home, only to go ahead and lock himself up in his room. Their room, technically, but that is not important at the moment.

James breathes out through tightly pressed lips, blinks, shakes his head once to drop the glasses back onto his nose, and pushes himself up from the table.

He finds that the door is unlocked when he approaches it, but he knocks nonetheless. “Can I come in?”

“No.” Comes Sirius’ gruff, stubborn reply.

James sighs. “I’m coming in.” He waits for another moment, and when he meets no further protest from the other side, he pushes the door open and steps inside. He slowly makes his way over to the bed, where Sirius is lying on his side with his back to James, staring out of the window.

“Pads,” he tries, gently, and tugs on the hem of the other’s jumper, but it elicits no answer out of the other. “Why don’t you stop sulking so we can talk and eat that roast beef?”

“Why don’t you sod off?” Sirius growls in return.

James lets out a low groan. He flops down on the mattress next to him, facing the ceiling, and folds his arms behind his head. His hands are itching to reach out and close the distance between them to pull the other into a hug, but he knows better than to put pressure on him like that.

“I’m sorry.” He tells the dimly lit lamp above them. “I didn’t mean to.. I know how you get about these things.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sirius snaps sharply, abruptly rolling over to glare at him over his shoulder. “How do I get about these things, James? Please enlighten me.”

James frowns. Sirius is glaring at him, eyes narrow and body tense, like he’s expecting an attack. Still, after all these years, he is still expecting some kind of catch, some sort of punch line. “It makes you upset.” James replies slowly, holding his gaze. “I hate it when you’re upset. I never want to make you feel like that.”

Sirius’ expression falters. He looks surprised for a moment, then the angry glint in his eyes is back and he rolls back to his side with a half-heartedly muttered “fuck off” that he shoves at James’ chest with his hand.

James counts to ten in his head (he almost makes it to ten, but that’s better than nothing, he gets points for trying), then crawls closer and pushes his head forcefully between Sirius’ arm and his side. His own arm comes around him to squeeze around his torso, pulling him closer.

“Can you please come out now so we can eat together?”

Sirius pulls his shoulder up in a shrug, the material of his jumper brushing against James’ hair as he does so. “I’m not hungry.” he mumbles.

“But I am.”

“Then eat.”

“I don’t want to eat without you.”

“I’m not hungry.” Sirius repeats, stubbornly.

James pauses for a moment before he speaks up again. “Then just sit next to me while I eat,” he asks, quietly, “please?”

He feels Sirius exhale slowly, and he knows that he’s won. “Okay.” The other gives in at last.

James grins widely and pushes further past Sirius’ arms into his personal space, tackling him down to the mattress to plant a big, wet kiss on his face. Sirius does not have energy left in him to resist him or to hold in his laughter when he rolls onto his back, allowing James to shower him with kisses.

#my writing #prongsfoot #starbucks #james/sirius #sirius/james #sirius x james #james x sirius #marauders fic #james potter #sirius black

[dudebro231]

honestly i thought after femslash feb was over, my freyden fever would be somewhat cooled down. like the calm... after the storm? my brain cant discern whether that is a saying or not right now, so fuck it we ball.

either way, i think these two have entered the pantheon of my otp's, a very prestigious group of ships that i am very meticulously maintaining. all that to say, i'll probably be writing Frey, Auden, Cuff and the rest of Athia for a while lol.

#frey/auden #frey holland #auden keen

[merryfortune]

Bippity Boppity Boo

Written for Year of the OTP 2023 - August

Prompts: AU of Your Choice | Time Travel | Meet Cute/Blind Date | “You’re the only one I could turn to for help.” | Storm | Vampire/Werewolf AU

Title: Bippity Boppity Boo

Ship: Respectfulshipping | Ryoken/Spectre

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Vrains

Rating: T

Word Count: 10,010

Tags: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Inspired by Cinderella, Fluff

   Once upon a time, there was a boy who had been abandoned by his family.

   He was placed under a tree and then later placed into an orphanage upon discovery. He would grow to yearn for this tree as the kindness it showed, protecting him from the greater wilderness, was far much more consideration he was shown compared to what was given to him at the orphanage.

   Where other children came and went, he was left behind. He grew older, grew embittered, and so, he came to be known by a monniker: Spectre. He was the shade in the corner. All but a ghost. Unwanted, unimpressive, and usually useless, too.

   He was given task after task when it became apparent to the matrons that this child was not going to be adopted any time soon, and that he would age out of the system. However, with no capital behind him or prospect ahead of him, and not wanting to stray too far from his one special place, Spectre remained. 

   The matrons put him to work as an apprentice. Allegedly, anyway. He was given all the menial chores around the house and playground. So, he was more like a cleaner, or worse. Wash this, hang out that, scrub this, cook that. His hours were eaten up by hard work that rubbed him to the bone, it was perpetually neverending, especially under the matrons’ wicked eye. 

   He never even got to sleep a wink elsewhere or a moment of repose. Now a young man, Spectre’s previous quarters in the children’s dormitory was no longer suitable so they had him sleep in the barn with the other, actual workhorses, and cows.

   Spectre tried not to mind. He preferred the straw and hay, he never got a moment of quiet beforehand with his previous roommates, either. Honestly, the animals with their lowing were far more pleasant companions than children who had been his prior bullies. That made the crick in his neck worth it, as if barely.

   But there was something that he looked forward to, being able to visit his favourite place up in the woods, his Mother Tree, if he could be so fanciful in his loneliness and aching. That tree was beautiful. Enormous. She had a kind face in the knots and whorls up high, her foliage was verdant and the fragrance of the meadow was calming.

   Being with her was truly Spectre’s favourite place.

   He was only able to go occasionally on the rare day off - once every two months, maybe, it wasn’t a given. But the reprieve meant the world to him, walking into the forest full of pleasant birdsong, to have his own company and spend the day at rest. Sometimes he brought a picnic along it. It truly meant the world for Spectre and made his thankless, tireless work worth it. 

   He saw no point in leaving the orphanage if the wider world didn’t seem to want him. He had poked around here and there for other jobs. Employment with the bank or the baker, smithing and shoemaking, but Spectre was just one urchin in the castletown alone. It was a huge, bustling metropolis so there was much competition from near and far, travellers and the homegrown. 

   So staying at the orphanage it was. For better or for worse, there was always work of some description there. Clothes that needed to be washed, floors that needed to be scrubbed, food that needed to be cooked. And thus, never thinking his circumstances would change, Spectre worked as he could at the orphanage. But that is exactly what would happen when a peculiar, ivory-coloured letter with a burgundy stamp in the shape of a segmented triangle would arrive with the rest of the orphanage’s mail.

   Now, this was a castletown, after all and where there were castles, there was royalty and where there was royalty, there was a prince in need of a good spouse. 

   Needless to say, there was a frenzy afoot…

   Spectre wasn’t caught up on the gossip from around the orphanage, let alone the entire city, but the letter which came in the mail explained everything that he needed to know. Here ye, here ye, come one, come all: every youth and lady in the kingdom was eligible, noble birth not needed but preferred, all are eligible for Prince Ryoken’s hand in marriage. There was a ball to be held within the fortnight, on the night of the full moon. 

   Most peculiarly about the letter was even addressed to Spectre. Or at least the name that he didn’t care for. He was Spectre nowadays but the royal register and census didn’t know or need his nickname. But it did make sense that it would be for him and him alone. He was the only live-in at the orphanage of an eligible age as even the youngest matron was a woman twice his age.

   Out of curiosity, Spectre opened the letter and read and something quite uncharacteristic happened. He felt… excited. 

   Spectre had parties. He hated loud noises and he’d never been any good at dancing, either, but even he had to admit. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity. He had no interest in meeting the prince, let alone trying to seduce him, but the opportunity to at least people watch in such a magnificent setting, Spectre was intrigued.

   “Madam, may I have the day and night of the party off?” Spectre asked the principal matron when he saw her next.

   She was a severe woman, nose always in the air, “What party?”

   Spectre provided the letter to her and she read it over. Her eyes skimmed across and her expression was difficult to describe. Incredulous, perhaps? She was a hard-faced woman at the best of times.

   “You had a day off recently, did you not?” she asked.

   “Last week, yes.” Spectre said and he had a brief yet fond recollection of an afternoon well spent reading in the shade of his favourite tree.

   “Then you are not due for another day off any time soon then,” she said, “besides, we are expecting a caravan the day before which will bring new blood here. There will be too much going on to be a worker down.”

   “Ah. I see.” Spectre replied. He tried to conceal the disappointment in his voice but the watchful look of the matron, he knew straight away he had betrayed himself.

   She sighed petulantly, “I suppose, if the drop-off of new charges is smaller than expected and all work is completed timely, there might be a window of opportunity but do not let something so stupid distract you from the good work we do here.”

   “Of course.” Spectre replied and he didn’t even try this time to disguise the hope in his voice.

   So, incentivised by an unusual night out, Spectre did his best to stay on top of all the chores and jobs he had to do around the orphanage. All of which seemed to suspiciously multiply. In the even rarer than usual downtime Spectre had between doing all his work for the orphanage, he tried to prepare in advance something nice to wear.

   Being the orphanage’s resident handyman, of course he had experience in being a tailor, too. Though, usually he was only doing patch jobs here and there as it was more cost effective to repair old hand me downs than replace them. Creating something to wear from scratch was much more difficult, especially on such short notice, but Spectre persevered. 

   What resulted from his work on his sparse off hours here and there were repairs on his good, white trousers and a new, navy blue blazer to match. It wasn’t much but Spectre figured that it was probably good enough for a squire. Again, it's not like anyone was going to look twice at him anyway. He was just there for the canapes and people watching. 

  But just as the letter came by fate in the work of human hands, so did the destruction of Spectre’s good clothes for his planned night out.

   He worked hard. That is what the principal matron said he had to do if he wanted to earn some time off. He did all his chores, all his jobs, all his work. He chopped firewood to both keep and sell, he washed dishes and he weeded the garden. He cleaned muck out of the stables as well as from the long-drop. He went to markets to buy provisions for the upcoming days and he helped with admin as they welcomed the newest orphans into their ranks.

   Some were the same as him. Abandoned. Others were waiting to reunite with their long-lost family. They were just whoever was willing to be collected up by missionaries and merchants alike to be dumped in a group home. The number of mouths to feed and children to clothe and beds to make doubled all but instantly with this arrival. The matron had not been lying when she said it would be a huge job but Spectre was up for the task.

   He got everything and everyone sorted. He took names, faces, luggage, and showed them to their rooms. The other matrons gave them all the rules and regulations mixed with a warm welcome whilst he swept afterwards and did the other tidying up.

   It truly never ended. Every step any given child took, more mud was tracked through the building. Spectre was cleaning and cleaning again but it all led him back to the stables. Mud outside was fine but there was just something… amiss. An organisation to the chaos, as though it were orchestrated…

   Sure enough, this strange inkling at the bottom of Spectre’s chest was confirmed when he found that his good trousers were no longer white but rather brown and his good blazer was no longer in one piece.

   The horse had gotten into it, tried to eat it and when it discovered that the jacket was inedible, it was trampled. Spectre picked up the pieces and he was… He was hollow. He knew it was a bad idea to look forward to even the remote possibility of doing something interesting with himself, bigger than the orphanage which kept him more like a prisoner than a charge.

   But how? Why? 

   He had lived in the stables without issue for years now at this point. He didn’t want to think the worst of any of the children whose work he served but the alternative was worse. Did the principal matron put one of them up to it or was it a genuine accident that his one set of truly good clothes got ruined on the night of the ball.

   With what was left of his jacket, he steeled himself. He may as well ask, so Spectre found the principal matron in the kitchen, fixing herself a cup of tea (for once, instead of asking him to do it for her). Her eyes were all-knowing from the minute he stepped through the door. There was no point.

   “Good, you can clean up after me since it seems your plans for the night are ruined.” she said.

   “Yes. I suppose so.” Spectre timidly replied.

   He was incensed but he could not show it. He simply did as he was told, disappointedly. There was no use keeping fabric which couldn’t even be used as cleaning rags so he discarded what was left of his jacket and cleaned the kettle as the principal matron drank her tea.

   Spectre knew he had been a difficult child to keep. For the longest time, he was an adventurer, an eloper, always running off. Picked on others just as much he had been picked on. All that sort of thing. But was that enough for this petty retribution? He didn’t know, he couldn’t say.

   Later, as night began to draw, Spectre slipped away the first chance he got. He wanted some time away from the orphanage and with the ball out of the question, there was only one place to go to enjoy some reprieve from others.

   Technically,he did still have the night off. The matron be damned. He had done his work, he deserved rest. There was more to come in the morning but until then, the night was young and the walk was not that far. Not really. If he couldn’t go to the ball, he could still go into the one retreat that he still had.

   Spectre made his way up through the woods, into the thick of the forest, and all whilst he was nimble-footed. He had made the journey hundreds of times, he knew these trees and the path into his favourite copse like the back of his hand. He made his way to his Mother Tree’s meadow so high on the hillside, not quite mountains but close.

   He collapsed in her inner sanctum. It was a twinkling, calm night. He could all but imagine the silver-toned music of the ball as he soaked in the silence of the forest. Even the birds had gone to roost early, it felt, as he watched fireflies drift and float lazily. The air was still, not even a breeze but the temperature was pleasant. 

   What a wonderful night for the prince’s occasion, Spectre could have laughed. Instead all he could muster was a breath that turned into a rock hard lump in his chest. He was exhausted. He had been worked to the bone all day, the day before, all last week and then some. He was tired as he curled up against the trunk of his Mother Tree.

   A single, disappointed tear streaked down the side of Spectre’s cheek. He wasn’t crying, it just occurred without reason but his soul was heavy nonetheless. He was utterly heartbroken by the turn of events, Spectre languished against his favourite tree, head in her roots as though they were fingers to card through his hair. 

   What good was he anyway? He was forever the shade in the corner, he likely wouldn’t enjoy himself anyway. He knew that and yet. The fact he had been invited. Sure, everyone was but it was still the very first time anyone ever had made some vain attempt to reach out for him. Sure, he was just another name on the list but still. Just that little meant a lot.

   Anything would have meant a lot.

   Like just a whisper, perhaps. A hello, a greeting, a salutation, just like… this one.

   “Hiya papaya, Spectre-Wecter!”

   “Who goes there?” Spectre yelped, alarmed.

   He ripped himself off the ground. Dirt and shreds of grass fell off him as he frantically looked around. Spectre scanned the oddly bright darkness for nothing. He couldn’t see a person, even though it was such a lovely and clear night wherein he could make out every leaf in the far distance’s trees but not anything closer, let alone humanlike to make the distinct noise of a gentle conversation.

   Laughter followed, “I’m right here, silly.”

   Spectre turned his head and from around the bulbous curve of the tree’s middle, a strange imp curled around, also. Hiding and cheeky, she had fluffy blonde hair and green skin, strange and insect-like eyes of red.

   “Who are you?” he asked, on his hackles as he stared into the mischievous face of a young woman. “How do you know my name?”

   “Think of me as your… magic fairy god-sister.” she said. She bounced along from behind the tree, her rose petal tutu flounced bombastically as she did so. She then took a bow, “My name is Healer and I am here to help.”

   Spectre’s brows quirked, “Help?” He got up cautiously and he realised he was far taller than the elfin thing in front of him.

   “Yup, help.” Healer confirmed, she nodded her head as she drew back up with a grin plastered across her face, reaching from pointed ear to pointed ear. “You wanna go to the ball, don’t you?”

   “Well, yes but… I don’t have anything to wear. Why bother? I was only invited as a courtesy.” Spectre replied.

   “Even so? You were invited and you wanted to go. Have a night out, dance it all away, it’ll be great fun and who knows,” Healer clasped her hands together for dramatic effect as her expression turned dreamy, “you might even meet your one true love.”

   Spectre snorted.

   “Hey! You might!” Healer snapped. “You're not making this easy for me. You should be all like, “waah, waah, I wanna go to the ball, take me to the ball” and well? Do you want to go to the ball or not?”

   “Fine. Yes. I want to go to the ball.” Spectre said. “But how am I going to get there? What will I wear?”

   “And that is where I fit in.” Healer trumpeted proudly. “All you need is three magic words.” She looked around. “Ah! Perfect! I’ve already found your carriage. Watch this.”

   Healer continued to galumph around - and beckoned Spectre to follow her. Which he did, even if it was with extreme suspicion. She bounced over to a tree which had white mushrooms growing at the base of it on the edge of the meadow.

   “Bippity. Boppity… Boo!” Healer said and she waggled her fingers at these mushrooms and the most peculiar thing happened.

   They grew. They changed. They became a carriage, an actual, functional carriage. The cap expanded and flopped about to become the top cover of the carriage. The stem underneath became the undercarriage, roots curled into wheels. It was strange, it was bizarre but it was beautiful. Spectre had never seen a carriage like it, it was good enough for royalty, he would think. 

   Healer proudly grinned by his side and glanced at him, “Like what you see?” she asked. “Good, I hope so. But you need something to pull a carriage,like a horse!”

   She whipped around, looked left and looked right and then had her little eureka moment. Healer skipped over and then pounced on a mouse. She picked one up by its tail and the squeaking it made was horrendous. She tossed it up and as it flew through the air, tumbling into a somersault, its body morphed and changed also.

   The mouse was white and so was the horse it became. Paws became hoofs and a thin tail turned to hair. The mouse’s squeaking became a horse’s neighing as Healer wagged her fingers. Girdle and tack manifested out of thin air and Healer had it all arranged so this horse which was once a mouse could pull the carriage which was once a mushroom.

   Spectre could hardly believe his eyes. He sputtered and stammered as he watched these impossible, fanciful, magical things happen right in front of him and all for him.

   “We have a horse, we have a carriage but what’s the word I’m thinking of…?” Healer mumbled, more to herself than to Spectre as she rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “Oh, yes! Of course! Coach! You need a coachman as well. Someone to guide the horse to the ball. We can’t expect a distinguished VIP to do something like that.”

   V-I-what? Healer was basically speaking in tongues to Spectre. He was too flabbergasted as he watched Healer fossick out a coachman for him next. She perused the tree branches and found a nest with just one bird in it. She gave it a shake.

   “Sorry mister but I need to borrow your services.” she whispered to the bird, a mourning dove.

   The dove began to flap and fluster, Healer had to put the nest down and they wanted as the bird turned into a man dressed, unsurprisingly, in gorgeous feathers. She hustled him up and loaded him onto the front of the carriage. He squawked and carried on but once he was sitting at the helm, he calmed down. 

   Healer turned around and then eyed up Spectre, “Now for you. You can’t go to the ball and meet your one true love looking like that, now can you?”

   “I - I suppose not.” Spectre said, flustered. 

   He wasn’t sure if he should trust the fashion sense of someone wearing a giant flower. Or had just dressed a bird in a feathered suit but it appeared Spectre had no say in the matter beyond giving his consent as Healer was lost in the enthusiasm of getting her god-brother to the ball.

   “Here goes nothing,” Healer said, “bippity-boppity-boo!”

   Healer gave it all in winding up and delivering energetic jazz hands towards Spectre. A sudden wind, speckled with stardust, blew a gale and wrapped itself around Spectre like celestial raiments. Around and around him, swirling and twirling, transforming his ordinary workwear into a gorgeous suit.

   Spectre’s expression turned elated as he wondered at the marvel of Healer’s magic. He wore a suit of the purest white with yellow-gold decorations. The suit felt as though it were made of the finest, most petal soft silk but it was very strange. One step forward and Spectre noted that his shoes were odd to say the least.

   He looked down, they were made of glass. They were shaped like a good, leather shoe ought to be and yet, they shone and shimmered in the moonlight, the shape of his foot barely obscured by the glass.

   “What on Earth…?” Spectre murmured.

   Healer laughed apologetically, “sorry. My magic isn’t one-hundred per-cent one-hundred per-cent of the time. Speaking of which!” Her eyes lit up. “You better hurry, you have a curfew. The magic will wear off at midnight but until then, go, vamoose! Enjoy yourself.”

   Healer pressed on Spectre’s chest and tried to force him into the carriage. He was by no means complaining but he was still very much bewildered. Thankful but bewildered.

   “Thank you, Healer.” Spectre told her through the window on the carriage door, leaning through it as it was paneless.

   “Anything for the Mother Tree’s favourite human son. And, um, only human son.” Healer said and she kissed Spectre’s cheek goodbye.

   He smiled as he was farewelled. The dove which was now a coachman yelled something to the effect of giddy-up and his horse, which was once a mouse, reeled with how the reins instructed it. The mushroom carriage began to move and roll on its spindly wheels, carrying Spectre away and into the night and right into the castle’s foyer.

   It was an event of come one, come all but it was still a veritable who’s who of royalty and aristocrats, nobles and knights, and peasants too but it was actually quite hard to differentiate. It was a night of nights for fashion, everyone in gorgeous suits and over the top ball gowns, and plenty of folk in masquerade masks, as well.

   The castle was a tall, white-stoned building with turrets that carried blue and crimson flags, it was mighty and beautiful. It was surrounded by gardens which were surrounded by a moat, the bridge was lowered but Spectre knew from his romps around the city, when the bridge was drawn, it was an unknowable, impenetrable fortress. To see it so openly welcoming, it was strange. Letters were checked at the door, sure, but it was still quite disconcerting to see large swathes of people come and go. It was dizzying.

   Spectre disembarked his carriage and uncertainly scurried through the crowds. Already he was second guessing himself as entered and was blinded by how dazzling the castle’s insides were. A diamond chandelier illuminated a sparkling ballroom lined with elegant decorations with a silvery, string quartet playing. The music drifted through the hall and over the heads of people who made eloquent small talk and ate haute couture canapes. 

   Spectre had no idea who was who but they didn’t know who he was either. He wouldn’t even dream of trying to make small talk with anyone who could be some pompous dignitary from goodness knows where all the same as he didn’t want to risk encountering a fellow commoner with worse manners than he. He really was out of place here. It made no sense for him to be here.

   Perhaps the principal matron was right.

   Perhaps magic should never existed at all, let alone to give him grace. 

   He picked and pecked along the snacks here and there. He watched the people who came and went, who danced and made jokes. It did little to quell his nerves, however. Even though it was why he was here. To get those little snatches of a life so far removed from his.

   What had the letter said, again? This was the prince’s attempt at finding some partner in life and politics. He really was just bloating the count in the crowd. He hadn’t even seen the prince but then again, he didn’t know what he looked like, either. 

   The ballroom was stiflingly hot. Honestly, how could anyone think in such conditions?

   He recalled the scenic gardens on the outside. An elaborate hedge maze with planter boxes either side. Spectre decided that he needed a breather. He was far more comfortable amongst plants than people, after all. So, he made an escape. Not that anyone was watching.

   The moment Spectre made his way outside, the second the cool, night air hit his face, he breathed a sigh of relief. The castle guards didn’t even bat an eye at him as he made his way to some seating on the inside of the maze. He just drifted in and out, taking rights and lefts at whim until he found somewhere he could appreciate the roses and the verdant nature of the leaves. The gardeners here were quite talented, Spectre could readily admit and admire.

   Only problem was, he wasn’t the only one to have thought to take a break and breather in the hedge maze. Upon the cement plane of the seating in this hard to find, nestled away place, there was someone already there. 

   A young man with snowy white and lilac hair, eyes like crystals, and a mysterious smile. He wore beautiful clothes but everyone at this event had been wearing beautiful clothes so Spectre didn’t particularly register that as he tried to find something to say. He had basically bumbled his way here.

   “I didn’t mean to disturb your peace,” Spectre said, flustered, “I’m just trying to find some of my own. Big parties aren’t really my thing.”

   “Mine neither.” the young man replied. “And you're not disturbing my peace at all, here, come sit, there’s plenty of room. If you’ll have me.”

   Not wanting to be rude, Spectre sat down where the young man patted. They seemed about the same age, Spectre was ready to estimate. Although, this young man might be a little bit older than him, two years. Spectre felt he was a good judge for age due to his upbringing. 

   Spectre awkwardly sat down and the silence between them was immense to say the least. They kept snatching glances at one another, waiting for something to say but nothing really coming up just yet. So, they both stared off into the distance together. At the stars. 

   It was a beautiful night tonight. Clear and wondrous. Spectre was more a moonwatcher than a stargazer and his companion here must have sensed that because they finally found something to talk about. 

   “Can you see cygnus?” he asked.

   “Which one is that again? The swan?” Spectre asked.

   “Yes, its right there.” he said, pointing it out with his finger and Spectre followed along the movements, mentally tracing the lines that he was making with the motions.

   It appeared to Spectre that the young man beside him seemed to have a particular fascination with them. Hence why he had pointed out the cygnus constellation before realising he hadn’t even given a name to himself yet.

   “Do you see it now?” he asked.

   “I do.” Spectre said. “Thank you.”

   “I’m Ryoken, by the way. It’s good to meet you.” he said.

   Spectre hesitated. He wasn’t sure if he should give his real name or not, he swallowed and decided that as he had no real attachment to it, there was no point in speaking it aloud.

   “I’m Spectre. Likewise.” he finally said in reply as Ryoken waited, patiently, politely, for Spectre to respond to his introduction.

   “That’s an unusual name.” he said.

   “Yes, well… I’m an unusual person.” Spectre replied.

   “Is that so…?” Ryoken’s tone of voice was intrigued.

   Spectre chuckled, “Unusual but not interesting, don’t get your hopes up.”

   “We’ll see, I’ll be the judge of that. Tell me about yourself. I haven’t done enough schmoozing tonight, I don’t know about you.” Ryoken said.

   “You're the first person I’ve struck up a conversation with at all.” Spectre said.

   “Then don’t leave me wanting. Surely you have something prepared. Who goes to a ball without a few ideas of trivia up their sleeve?” Ryoken said.

   “Me, apparently.” Spectre said and he sighed. He tried to think of something, he glanced around and saw the roses. Well, there was that. “Did you know that there are over a thousand varieties of roses?”

   “I did not. I just sort of assumed they came in red, white, pink, and orange.” Ryoken replied.

   “They do but there’s plenty more nuance to their identification than just their colours.” Spectre replied.

   “Do you like gardening, Spectre?” Ryoken asked.

   “You could say that.” Spectre replied, giggling nervously. He would sound like a lunatic if he was to tell this stranger his opinions on his life story and even the events that had gotten him to this ball at all. “Do you like astronomy?”

   “I do.” Ryoken replied.

   “Well, I don’t just like gardening, I love it. I love forests more, however. Its nice to keep flowers and plants in our environments but seeing them flourish in the wild, I like that more.” Spectre elaborated.

   “Well said. Makes me wish there was some way to keep stars at home.” Ryoken joked.

   “That’s a sweet sentiment to think over.” Spectre said, charmed.

   They continued to talk more. They could both feel a rapport beginning, an enjoyable banter and it was strange to say but Spectre felt as though he could call this stranger a friend. He didn’t have many - if any - of those. Though, he did have to be cautious of the time.

   They both did, Spectre noticed. Ryoken kept glancing back over to the ball which was taking place beyond those illustrious castle doors.

   “Something the matter?” Spectre asked.

   “I think I best go back in. I haven’t danced nearly enough.” Ryoken said. “Have you?”

   “I have two left feet.” Spectre said. “And no one to dance with.”

   “All the better. Well, will you do me the honour?” Ryoken said and he offered his hand to Spectre.

   He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t. If Spectre was calculating the time correctly then he had about half an hour - maybe forty-five minutes if he was lucky - before midnight would strike. He was an awful dancer but then again, he needed one story of the night for Healer later, he was assuming he would see her later…

   “If you insist.” Spectre blushed.

   He placed his hand into the gentle clasp of Ryoken’s. His hand was firm and sturdy but gave Spectre the impression that it had never seen a true day’s worth of hard work. He had the telltale callous from a pen, maybe also the callouses from swordplay, but nothing which said that he had ever worked a field, perhaps.

   Ryoken took Spectre back through the maze, never letting go once with all thee twists and turns. It was almost exciting but the nervousness that nipped at Spectre’s heels as they got closer and closer to the ball again prevented him from truly enjoying it. He was an awful dancer, he had a poor temperament which didn’t mix with people, the magic was due to run out soon, and then.

   A revelation.

   “Hark, Prince Ryoken, how goes it? Found your betrothed to be yet?” the Castle Guard greeted Ryoken and Spectre, far too friendly.

   Spectre couldn’t believe his ears. Did he just- did he just say Prince Ryoken. And why did Prince Ryoken just glance his way? He smirked over his shoulder, looking at him.

   “I’m beginning to wonder that myself.” Ryoken said as he turned his head.

   There was no way that Spectre, of all people, had found himself in the company of the prince. It was a cast of thousands. A needle in a haystack social situation. He wasn’t even here to try to vie for the prince’s affections and yet apparently, Spectre had him hand in hand.

   Ryoken continued to hold him - and prepped him for a dance. They were chest to chest, Ryoken held Spectre for a waltz and smiled. Together, they danced a simple one-two-three-one-two-three type of dance.

   “So. Did you know I was the prince?” Ryoken asked.

   “No, of course not.” Spectre replied, flabbergasted as he was harshly danced with.

   Not scolded nor critiqued. Interrogated. Which was far worse than if Ryoken was constantly butting in to correct Spectre’s posture or manner.

   “I had a hunch. Because there’s no Spectre on the guest list. I did review the guest list, I checked it twice even.” Prince Ryoken snickered. “Just who are you? You're not a noble, I don’t think, but I have never seen clothes like yours before. That makes me think you're not a commoner so just who are you?”

   Spectre was swung around and twirled. His head spun. He was danced with - or perhaps more accurately, at. He was completely caught up in and swept along by Prince Ryoken’s tempo then taken for a bow that left them nose to nose. Even closer to chest to chest and famously, far too close to lip to lip.

   “I am…” Spectre murmured. “I am the ghost in the corner. That is how I got my nickname.” He revealed to Prince Ryoken.

   “And you said you were an uninteresting person.” Prince Ryoken laughed.

   He pulled Spectre up and they danced some more. Slower, this time. Thankfully. Spectre’s heart raced. He blushed, too.

   “You are also far better at dancing than you said. You haven’t trodden on my toes yet. When you said you had two left feet, I was looking forward to seeing what disaster that might put us in.” Prince Ryoken continued to banter.

   “Yes, well, I have an excellent lead.” Spectre replied.

   “People pleaser.” Prince Ryoken snipped at him.

   Spectre guffawed. The unsightly noise of it amused Prince Ryoken and they continued to dance. They weaved elegantly in between the others who were coupled up and joined in waltz. But every person they passed by on the dancefloor caused people to stop and stare and suddenly, Spectre could not have been the most ignored person in the room. He had to be the most looked at person in the room.

   All because of Prince Ryoken.

   It made Spectre’s head throb. This couldn’t be real. And it couldn’t. This was all because of magic. That had to be it. If he had simply come as himself in his hand-stitched jacket, none of this would have ever happened. That had to be it: this outcome had to have been influenced by the magic that Healer had so kindly crowned him with and as Spectre was spun around in the waltz, he caught glances at the clock in the far wall.

   The clock was tall and imposing, with ornate hands and said hands were so close, so incredibly close, to midnight. Mere minutes away from midnight.

   Spectre’s heart froze, “I have to go.” he said.

   “Huh? What, why? The fun has just begun.” Prince Ryoken told him.

   Spectre struggled out of Prince Ryoken’s hands but though Prince Ryoken was dismayed, he let go of Spectre. Spectre glanced around, searching for the exit and when he found it, he pursued it but Prince Ryoken pursued him.

   “Where are you going?” Prince Ryoken asked as he followed Spectre.

   He darted through the crowd. Spectre could feel the glass of his shoes begin to crack.

   “Can I come?”

   “Absolutely not.” Spectre replied, his voice barky as he made it to the steps.

   At midnight, they were ivory-coloured and sleepy. Shadowed and alone, the music of the ballroom hardly reaching to the outer reach as they looked over the hedges and the moat once more.

   “Can I at least know your real name?” Prince Ryoken asked as he allowed Spectre to flee.

   “No, no you may not.” Spectre said.

   He saw his carriage. It all but miraculously appeared at the edge of the bridge and he grinned. This was for one night only. That was all he needed to escape the drudgery of his day to day in the orphanage, under the all but indentured servitude of the principal matron. He did not mean to endear himself to the crown prince.

   But he had.

   His spirit sang and in his rush, or maybe it was on purpose, Spectre left behind his glass shoe. He didn’t think it would exist past midnight but on the off chance he did, he did want Prince Ryoken to find him again. He did want these happy times to continue but joy was fleeting. He knew that well.

   At the bottom of the bridge, in the nick of time, Spectre made it to his carriage and he was carried off by the chirp of his coachman and the thunder of his horse’s hooves. They rode off into the night, just far enough to disappear from eyes but through the paneless window of the door, Spectre saw the darkened, disappointed figure of Prince Ryoken pick up his abandoned shoe on the stairs.

   He swallowed a lump in his throat. They had had a magical night together but it was just that. Magical. Spectre had no doubt in his mind that Prince Ryoken wouldn’t remember him come dawn. He should find a nice noblewoman to wed. Not him.

   The carriage’s wheels turned to mushroom mince underneath their own weight and momentum. The coachman began to sprout feathers and the horse began to squeak. They had made it far enough before Spectre’s finery with all their filigree and splendour turned to his worksman clothes, for the coachman to become a dove once more and for the horse to return to being a mouse.

   They had arrived on the edge of the forest, it woudln’t have been that long of a journey back to the orphanage for Spectre to walk but sure enough. His assumption was correct. Healer was waiting on the edge of the forest for him, hovering close to a copse of trees and smiling.

   “So?” she asked. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

   “You could say that.” Spectre said. “I, um, I met the prince.”

   “You what?!” Healer exclaimed.

   “And I think he intends to marry me.” Spectre said.

   “Oh. My. Gosh.” Healer gasped. “What’s next?”

   “Nothing.” Spectre said. “I return to my normal life.”

   “What, no?” Healer frowned. “You were sent to meet your one true love and now you reject him?”

   “As soon as he sees me for who I am, he wouldn’t have me anyway.” Spectre said.

   “You don’t know that for sure.” Healer attempted to cheer Spectre on, she made little fists in front of him. “Just wait and see you. I just know you’ll get your happily ever after or I have done a poor job of being your fairy god-sister.”

   Spectre placed his hand on Healer’s shoulder, his expression was downcast but thank you, “You have done an exceptional job as my fairy god-sister, I can promise you that. Thank you, I have a had a wonderful night because of you. Good night, Healer.”

   Healer smiled. “Okay, but if you need anything else, I promise I’m not too far away.” she said. “Good night, Spectre.”

   Healer disappeared again, in the blink of an eye but a strange presence lingered. Spectre had always believed there was something strange about the forest on the edge of town and he was glad that his suspicion had been confirmed. Even if there was something oddly bittersweet about it, it was getting late. He was best to go to bed. There was much to do in the morning.

   But the morning was tossed into disarray to say the least!

   The ball was, naturally, the talk of the town but the fact that the prince had found someone he intended to marry, now that was well and truly exciting. Especially since to find this mystery person, a quest had been launched.

   Word spread quickly, especially when it was accompanied by royal proclamations and trumpets but even so, when it reached Spectre, he was in total disbelief. He was just that. A spectre. The ghostly shade in the corner. It had taken a literal miracle of magic for him to have any impact and now, it was being felt far and wide through the citadel as Prince Ryoken was on the hunt for him and only him: the only person whose foot would fit the glass shoe he had left behind.

   Prince Ryoken had proclaimed that he - personally - would sweep the city in search of the person whom he had danced with last night, whom he had sat in the gardens with last night, and he would not sleep until he found that young man.

   It was madness. Pure and utter madness. Lunacy. Yet Spectre’s heart trilled as he was told this over breakfast at the orphanage. But, he had to temper himself. He was just hearing what had been heard at market by the principal matron, after all.

   “Ridiculous.” the Principal Matron rolled her eyes. “Get an arranged marriage like anyone else.”

   “Why didn’t you ever get married, madam?” Spectre asked, innocently enough but that was enough to incite cold furor from the severe woman sitting opposite him. “Nevermind, forget I asked.”

   His skin crawled. He knew it was a faux pas to ask a woman of her age, well and truly past the moniker of either spinster or fruit cake but still. The rage in her eyes had been unprecedented.

   “Why the interest in the prince, anyway?” she asked. “It's not like you went to the ball.”

   “Can’t I take interest in current affairs? Regardless of how vapid. Though, if this mystery person was a foreigner, there is the possibility it could affect our politics.” Spectre countered.

   The principal matron regarded him suspiciously. Her highly drawn eyebrows quirked and Spectre had this strange strike to his mind. He wondered, if she knew somehow, that he had gone to the ball and worse, that she had puzzled out that he was the mystery person whom Prince Ryoken was questing for. The silence was terse but in the end all she did was that she finished eating.

   “Clean up for me.” she said.

   “Okay.” Spectre replied. 

   His reply was clear and crystalline, perfectly hiding his intention of wanting to sneak off into the forest later. He wanted to see Healer again for she may have advice for how to best prove his identity to Prince Ryoken… should the opportunity arise any time soon. Surely this quest was foolhardy. The castle city was a city, after all, quite a large population - not to mention the invites which had come from overseas. Both Spectre and Prince Ryoken were one person a piece, a cloud of impossibility separated them, even if Prince Ryoken was determined to find Spectre again.

   Even from just doing his chores and jobs around the orphanage again today, word travelled fast and even faster amongst the pipsqueaks. Where they heard it from, Spectre had no idea so the veracity was incredibly nebulous at best but if what even a fraction of what they said about the prince was true… Then determined did not begin to describe Prince Ryoken.

   He had already cleaved through half the population on obvious accounts of incorrect gender. Then by age and height. It would be a matter of days if Prince Ryoken had his way, spearheading his quest by himself with all the resources of the royal family behind him. It was of the utmost importance, apparently, for him to wed and wed for love.

   Spectre wondered why that was… Surely there were laws or other scruples to prevent the Prince of the Kingdom to marry whomever he pleased at willy-nilly. There had to be a reason why.

   In the meantime, Spectre just resolved to check in with Healer again.

   He finished up as fast as he could. It was about sunset when he got the opportunity to breathe for a second and then evening meals had to be prepared. The haste in which Spectre made food and cleaned up afterwards must have incurred curiosity because when he tried to slip out the back door undetected, the principal matron noticed Spectre trying to get away.

   A shame he didn’t notice her back…

   But she was careful to cover her tracks as she followed Spectre out.

   Not too far, just past the outer rim of trees that made up the forest at the back of the orphanage. He cautiously called out for Healer. Fireflies floated around and with a twinkle of a giggle, Healer did appear before him - and to the shock of the matron who was following behind at several paces behind.

   “Spectre-Wecter!” Healer cheered. “Good to see you again. Reunited with your one true love yet?”

   Spectre frowned, embarrassed but Healer just found it adorable, “He’s looking for me but…”

   “You just have to be patient!” Healer said. “Buuuut if you want a little bit of insurance, look at what I still have.” From behind her back, she produced Spectre’s other glass shoe. She laughed apologetically. “I told you, my magic is really touch and go. I’m not super talented but in this case, it's quite lucky.”

   “Thank you, Healer.” Spectre replied and he accepted the other shoe from Healer.

   “And don’t forget. If you need me, just call me. I promise I won’t be too far away.” Healer promised him once again.

   Spectre was unsure in what scenario that he would need Healer but he did feel gladdened to have her nonetheless. She did disappear once again, however. The shoe remained though and felt lightweight and cool in Spectre’s hands. Unlike his trousers and jacket which had been ruined the night of the ball, this was something so precious for him to protect but he didn’t have any clear ideas of how to do so yet.

   Especially with the matron aware of it and Healer’s existence.

   Another day passed by. The eruption to the social order and gossip in the form of Prince Ryoken’s quest to find his one true love continued. The upheaval was all anyone could talk about it seemed and the current chat was that it would be any minute now. He had cut through many homes and businesses, a few close calls but none which especially satisfied him.

   The curious glass shoe was all that needed to confirm the identity of the one who had stolen his heart. Or so they said.

   Spectre just waited and did his best until the orphanage, which was located on the edge of town, was chosen as the next location for Prince Ryoken to investigate. In the meantime, he did as he was told and pretended to have no interest in anything vaguely royal.

   Though, it was hard to pretend when the royals announced themselves. An entire parade of advisors and lieutenants, an arch-duke and of course the prince himself.

   Trumpets rang out in cheerful tunes upon arrival. The carriage pulled by gorgeous white horses stopped right in front of the orphanage and the prince was let out of its velveteen inside with a smile. 

  The children of the orphanage were suitably excited. They clamoured for Prince Ryoken’s attention and he kindly gave it whilst his entourage asked around for their carers. They were after a person of a particular age and, well, maleness. Someone whose foot would fit the glass shoe that Prince Ryoken’s attendant kept in the middle of a plush, burgundy pillow.

   Spectre could hear the commotion. Anyone could from miles around. His heart grew hopeful as he tried to make his way from the stables and into the garden. There was a plaza in between, it was a short walk, shorter if he hurried but the noise of the fanfare and children squealing had alerted the principal matron.

   “You.” she growled.

   She glared as she hitched up her ankle-length skirt and full-bodied the door that Spectre was trying to leave from. She shoved all her weight against it and Spectre did the same. The door jingled and jangled with them duelling through it. Time was of the essence for the both of them and yet, here they were in this molasses slow stalemate.

   “Let me go! You can’t keep me in here.” Spectre yelled.

   “Yes I can.” the Matron snapped back.

   “Why are you doing this?” Spectre asked,as he grit his teeth. He banged his fists on the stable door as the principal matron tried to keep him inside. “What have I ever done to you to deserve this?”

   He knew, okay. He knew he was a bad apple. He was a chronic runaway and he used to have plenty of sass. Spectre was well aware that for the longest time, he rightfully belonged at the bottom of the pecking order of the cohort of children who had come and gone during his time in the orphanage. The only one that remained but… did his transgressions from twelve under really work to incur such wrath from a woman in childcare?

   “You want to know?” the Matron sneered.

   She let go of the door and Spectre heard her footsteps as she paced upon the cobbled paving between the plaza and the stable. He felt the loosening on the handle. He stepped back and the principal matron opened the door. Her face was frightening.

   “You ruined my life.” she snarled. Her expression was fierce, her voice severe, but her intentions in those four words, Spectre finally understood.

   She was… The principal matron… A woman who dedicated herself to the care of the abandoned and neglected was the woman who had abandoned him in the woods all those years ago. What cruel, sick irony was this? A karmic punishment, perhaps? 

   The principal matron was disarmed by Spectre’s demeanour. It was most akin to a kicked puppy and for a moment, she thought that she had won. His arms hung loose by his sides, his gaze ahead a thousand miles away. 

   She shut the door again and locked it. Spectre heard the loud and sickening kerchunk of it as he was left inside the stable. A place with windows too high and too small to crawl through, with the animals and his few belongings.

   “Goodbye, Spectre.” the Matron sneered.

   Spectre was quiet but his mind was all fired up. He still had plenty of fight left in him. He would see the prince again if it was the last thing he did. He still had one ally he could call upon. He just hoped that the little dryadic thing really could be called from anywhere.

   He waited a moment to calm his nerves and collect his hopes. He needed to get out of here quick smart, before Prince Ryoken left without even knowing that he was in here and then, once Spectre felt that the matron was out of earshot, he raced to the other side of the barn. He leveraged himself on shelving to at least peek out the window which looked out onto the serene forest behind the orphanage.

   “Healer! Healer, please, this is important!” Spectre yelled but not too loudly. 

   He wanted to attract attention but not too much attention. Who knows how the matron would spin him in front of the prince if he tried too hard? Oh, he really was just another awful, petulant child to be disciplined to that woman. 

   His hands curled into fists as he banged on the wooden outer rim of the window. He didn’t care if he got splinters or not. He closed his eyes tight with a clench and grit his teeth. Spectre could feel tears well up in the corners of his eyes.

   Healer was right. He did want to meet and fall in love with his one true love. He was fortunate to have had her at all but he really, really needed her right now. There wasn’t anything he could use to open the stable up from the inside: it could only be locked from the outside and it was just miscellaneous storage for everything else. 

   Please, Healer, please, Spectre found himself begging and then he heard it.

   “Hiya-papaya, Spectre-Wecter.”

   Her silly jovial voice. Spectre opened his eyes and his heart spiked. He looked through the window and there she was. She stood confused and bouncing on her heel.

   “Why’re you in there?” Healer asked.

   “Please, help, the Prince is right in the garden but the Matron has locked me up here to punish me. Go around the front and open the door, you can do that right?” Spectre asked.

   “Grr, what a mean woman getting in the way of the course of fate! Of course I can open a door. That should be easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy.” Healer said.

   “Thank you, Healer,” Spectre replied and he smiled a vulnerable smile, “for everything.”

   “Anything for my human god-brother.” Healer chuckled.

   She bounded off and Spectre raced to the other side of the barn. He stood behind the door and waited for Healer. He just hoped that she wouldn’t be seen. He hadn’t told her that but for a girl child dressed akin to a ballerina, she didn’t seem like the quiet and graceful type, but hopefully the importance of stealth went unsaid.

   Regardless, he heard Healer in front of the door. She tried the handle and sure enough. It was locked. He watched the handle clanked as she moved it from the other side.

   “Can you use your magic to open it?” Spectre asked, his voice was panicked and imploring.

   “Can I use my magic to open it?” Healer mockingly replied. “Of course I can. All it takes is three special words: bippity! Boppity! Boo!”

   Spectre held his breath as he watched the handle move silently. The mechanisms in it were made docile as something like an invisible key moved through it and then opened the door without being touched. Healer stood on the other side of the threshold, making jazz hands towards the door and she met Spectre with a huge smile.

   “There you go,” Healer chirped, “now let’s get you to your princey-pooh!”

   She grabbed Spectre by his hand and spun on her heel. She yanked him along but Spectre didn’t need to be told twice that he best be getting along. They made a dash for across the plaza, from around the corner of the main building of the orphanage and saw how the garden opened up.

   A horde of children surrounded the prince with the matron and another of her assistants at her helm. Spectre’s stomach dropped. Without him, the illusion of there only being the super young and the wizened old was fully intact. It likely wouldn’t have taken much at all for the principal matron to convince Prince Ryoken and his entourage that the very person that he was looking for wasn’t here at all.

   Spectre’s heart raced and he announced himself, “Wait, I - I would like.”

   He stumbled with his words but Healer bounced next to him, trying to cheer him on. Her expression was determined, her little fists close to her face as her cheeks puffed out.

   “You can do it.” she whispered.

   “I would like to try on the shoe!” Spectre said and his voice rang out clear. 

   All the crowd looked towards him. The matron swallowed a gasp when she saw Spectre, and the strange, green elfin girl, at his side.

   “I thought you said it was just the nuns and the children here?” Prince Ryoken said, wry.

   The matron sputtered and Prince Ryoken looked over his shoulder, “Aso, please, prepare the glass shoe. I would like to check this person.” He smiled knowingly.

   “Yes, of course, sire.” 

   Spectre came closer, Healer at his heels and the matron glared. Aso, the royal attendant to Prince Ryoken, was happy to see Spectre, also. Spectre quickened his pace, somewhere between a walk and a jog. He didn’t want to make a poor impression as he acknowledged Aso with a nod. There was a kind smile on Aso’s face as he held the pillow in his hands with as much dignity as possible. Prince Ryoken gave his blessing in anticipation and this moment was slow and sweet and perfectly ripe for something to go wrong.

   Aso stepped forward and the matron extended forth her cane. She hit Aso in his ankles and though he did not fumble, he did drop the pillow.

   “Oops.” the Matron murmured.

   Her voice lost beneath the crash and clatter as the elegant, glass shoe smashed on the ground.

   Prince Ryoken made an aghast expression. He was crushed and he glared daggers at the matron.

   “What is the meaning of this?” Prince Ryoken barked at her.

   “Simple mistake.” the Matron blatantly lied.

   “It's fine.” Spectre spoke up.

   “Yup, yup, it’s fine!” Healer added. “We have the second glass shoe!”

   Spectre was nervous but he stepped in closer. He was flustered to say the least. His face was splotchy and he looked dowdy in his commoner's clothes but from his pockets, he produced the other glass shoe. He smiled.

   He couldn’t think of a safer place than his own self to keep such a precious memento. He was very glad that he had never found a better place to keep it safe than right here with him because he could see the Matron seethe in the corner of his eyes. 

   Prince Ryoken stepped forward and met Spectre halfway. He reached out but did not touch the glass shoe. Instead, he was far too entranced by Spectre and it was as though they were the only two people in the garden, nay, the whole world. The sun was shining and the birds were singing and now, they had met once more but now in the beautiful and clear azure of the day’s afternoon.

   “It's you.” Prince Ryoken said. He didn’t need either shoe to prove Spectre’s identity to him, just gazing upon him, his eyes lit up and he smiled wide.

   “Yes, it's me.” Spectre replied. Even so, as his eyes were gazed into, all the proof needed, he did hold on tighter - protectively - to the surviving glass shoe.

   Prince Ryoken drew in closer and he caressed the side of Spectre’s face. He was dirty and sweaty but there was such softness in Prince Ryoken’s eye that Spectre felt like the most beautiful creature in all existence. He tucked a curl of Spectre’s hair behind his ear.

   “Well, will you marry me?” Prince Ryoken asked.

   “I… Yes, of course, but.” Spectre stammered with his words through his grin.

   “But what?” Ryoken asked.

   “Why?” Spectre asked. “Why me? Why have a ball at all to meet the person you want to wed.”

   “Because I wanted to meet my one true love.” Prince Ryoken said with the fondest voice.

   “Yes, well, that would do it, wouldn’t it?” Spectre laughed. 

   Prince Ryoken kissed him and Spectre kissed back. It was a wonderful little kiss that just felt so strangely and perfectly right, Spectre swooned as he had all his breath was taken away by this kiss. His heart raced in his chest and he smiled. It was a magical kiss in front of all the orphanage and its matrons and Prince Ryoken’s advisors and Healer, too. It was a sweet and passionate kiss and just the first of many kisses between them in both public and private.

   A wonderful wedding ensued at the culmination of many months and they lived happily ever after.

#yugioh #vrains #yugioh vrains #respectfulshipping #year of the otp #bippity boppity boo #spectre (vrains) #ryoken kogami #kogami ryoken #writing tag

[runicmagitek]

I will ask Ashe right back at you because I want to hear your thoughts!

Why I like them. I always loved how unapologetically angry Ashe was. After everything that was torn away from her, she took it upon herself to make things right, by any means necessary. I loved how it wasn't until she was ALMOST at a point of no return that she had a change of heart, but DAMN, I always loved that for her. Be angry, girl. Be violent.

Why I don’t. I also wasn't big on the ending with how she reacted to Balthier staying behind. I felt like there was a scene or two or ten missing to lead to That Reaction.

Favorite scene. I know Ashe has a ton of badass/important scenes, but I always loved the opening wedding parade, just because she's smiling and so happy. It's like the calm before the storm, but it warms my heart to know she at least had that before everything went to utter shit.

Favorite line. "I desire its power. I want, yet I also fear. I must protect Dalmasca. I can't afford to fear anything."

Favorite outfit. Again, her wedding outfit is gorgeous.

OTP. I'm forever a sucker for Ashe/Basch, mostly for the loyalty kink, but also just how utterly tragic and bittersweet they are. They are introduced in the game on SUCH the wrong foot and yet Basch continues to do his best to aid her, even though Ashe wants nothing to do with him. And just when she's starting to warm up to him, they part ways and tend to their sworn duties because of course they do. Just gets me right in the feels every time. Also forever amused by Al-Cid swooning for Ashe and her just playing along for shits and giggles.

Brotp. I guess the main party, in general? Almost everyone Ashe trusts either dies or betrays her :'(

Head Canon. I always imagined that when the group confronted Ultima, the esper saw into Ashe's heart, knew exactly what she desired, absolutely approved, and thus offered her powers to aid them. I've wanted to write a fic about it for ages ;~; maybe one day

Unpopular opinion. LET HER BE ANGRY. LET HER LASH OUT ಠ_ಠ

A wish. I hope she has a peaceful reign as queen and many lovely naps.

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen. No more people she cares about dying on her

5 words to best describe them. Proud, resolute, blunt, unflinching, and enduring

My nickname for them. From my last playthrough, my bf and I called her Berserker Badass, bc we accidentally left berserk on her with… I think Excalibur and some items that upped her white magic or something… aaaaand so she murdered zodiark in literally under 10 seconds

#runic rambles #meme thing #many thanks for the ask! ahhhh i love ashe and ffxii so much

[toastvogel]

sending the same ask to you! Answer the ones you find interesting in the obligatory otp ask game!

Thank you again for your ask <3

What would they do if the other woke in a manic state after a nightmare?

Arios would wrap her into his Arms and Wings and tell her calming and relaxing stories, snuggling and nuzzling her until Therya realized, that everything is well.

Therya would stroke his hair, stroke threw his feathers and softly sing to him. When she became an Ascended, she would wrap him in her wings as well.

Do they wear the other’s clothes? (sweatshirt, bandana, necklace, etc.)

Arios wore a bracer made of one of Telane/Therya old Armor when she was still a Mortal and she had a Necklace made out of one of his feathers. Now both wear a feather of the other on their Helmets.

Which one is more protective? Who needs to be ‘protected’?

Arios is clearly the more protective one and he needs to be. Therya never lost the self destructing and short sighted attitude that she had as a mortal but since she now is a full being of death, she just can't get resurrected whenever she bites the dust. That just hasn't settled into her brain yet and that is also, why Kyrestia is keeping her realm-bound for at least a few eons.

Describe their cozy night in.

Snuggled together with their wings pressed so tightly together that the feathers interlace, covered and surrounded by blankets and pillows with a cup of Theo'Tea's Bastion Blend™ ² for him and a muck of hot wealdweed (comparable to cacao in the living realm but with a cinnamon-y touch) milk for her. Than they'll either read, talk or just watch Bastions Sky. Big plus if an Anima Storm is raging.

18. How likely are they to have fur babies? How many and what kind?

A Beastmaster in Life and in Death through and through. If Kyrestia wouldn't have put her feet down, the whole Eonian Archives would be a Zoo by now. So she could only keep a few. So besides her Phalanxes and Aquilons that where kept in Bastion anyway, the Maldraxxi happily returned her Flayedwings and Renathal send two of her Gravewings back, who didn't harmonized well with the Rest of the Stoneborn, to Bastion.

Also – words have it that the Primus and the Winter Queen made a deal with the Brokers and/or Bwonsamdi just to piss their sister off for fun – her undead Companions from Life have joined her in Bastion as well. To Uther's BIG despair Invincible is among them - he still doesn't like the Steed. Her Voiddrake also visits from time to time and it needed eons for Xandria to not fall into a war frenzy every time the Creature showed up.

28. What are there thoughts on pet names? Do they have any?

It's a part of their relationship. They do tend to not be too extreme with those and only use them when alone,with Friends or off Duty.

Therya still calls Arios “Sweetwing”, “Sweetfeather” or “Nerdking” (since he is now the Paragon) if she wants to annoy him

Arios still calls Therya “my soul”, “Sweetfeather” or “Baby Quail” if he wants to annoy her

38. Who is more sexually experimental? Who's more vanilla?

Arios for sure. He is curious by nature and while he himself doesn't have much experience, he can fall back on Thanikos' due to their soulbinding and BOY does that Ascended has experience he is happy to share. Therya/Telane is just happy to follow his lead and discovered quite a lot of things she likes.

39. Who would rescue an injured animal and nurse it back to health? What would the other think?

Again, that's Therya and Arios knows about it and loves it - as long as they stay away from his work. It was also the reason, why the Archon was somewhat "forced" to claim her via unfair Methods because the Winter Queen called dips on her and wasn't really willing to give up on one who would probably be her best wildseed tender.

49. Does either of them have a hard time being away from the other?

Telane officially died of heartbreak a year after the living returned from the Shadowlands because she couldn't handle the lose not just of Arios but of all of them for they had become the Family she always wanted and needed. When Thanikos gets drunk enough, he lets it slip that Arios had a lot of trouble adjusting, too. It's still not easy for both of them but it got better over the eons they are together now.

As you might have recognized, I adopted a few OfA canons into my own - namely the Threesome™ , the Soulmates (yes, that also includes Embrosia as Adrestes Mate ;) )and the Devos/Thenios Revendreth thing. They are just way, WAY better than the official ones and I hope you don't mind?

² Theo'tea is Theotars own Tea Label and it is THE Shadowlands Brand for High Quality Tea. He works together with the best herbalists of the realms and especially his "Realm Series" are a Hit. He even has Mixtures made for the Eternal Ones themselves but those are exclusive to them!

#ask game #arios x telane #arios x therya

[kadajchan]

Yuusin

I skipped modern au questions hope it is ok.

1.Who would end a heated argument by defending their actions with ‘because I love you!’ ? 

Neither. Hakuyuu is more emotional in this matter but they both know that the other's actions usually are not just because of love.

2.What would they do if the other woke in a manic state after a nightmare?

Hakuyuu is used to comforting his siblings, so he deals with the situation easier. He brings water and hummus softly, using his voice as a source of comfort. Sinbad is more touchy-feely in sleep so he gives body comfort, like cuddling or nuzzling or playing with hakuyuu's hair. 

3.Do they wear the other’s clothes? (sweatshirt, bandana, necklace, etc.)

Mostly Sinbad. He likes to wear hakuyuu's hair pin.

4.Which one is more protective?

Both are on the same scale. 

 5.who needs to be ‘protected’?

Neither. They are an absolute power couple. 

6 describe their cozy night in.

Reading poetry and drinking sake on their private porch. 

7.who would beg the other not to leave? 

Neither. They prefer a broken heart over a broken pride. 

8.who has to leave to protect the other?

Neither. They would probably - agree - on getting separated if it comes to it. 

9.would they build a pillow fort together just because?

No

10.what happens if one of them gets sick?

Sinbad will - test - every remedy he had learned in his travels on Hakuyuu as long it is a simple sickness like a cold and Hakuyuu calls the palace doctor. 

11.Do either try to hide their emotions if upset? 

Sinbad. He doesn't like to wear his emotions on the palm of his hand. 

12.can the other still tell?

Yes. Hakuyuu is good at it since his cousin Kouen hides emotions as well and he is used to handle him.

13.Do they have many heated arguments? How do they smooth things over?

The king of the seven seas and Kou's emperor?  of course there is going to be heated arguments. It's shake and break up, then kiss and make up for them.

14.who’s the bigger tease?

 

Sinbad, who else ?

 15.How do their personalities compliment each other?How do they clash?

They are like thunder and water. Sinbad being a shining stunning entity full of passion and Hakuyuu a calm deep water. Nevertheless thunder and water complete each other and make a huge storm. No enemy can stand in their way when they are together. 

16.can they stay up all night just talking?

Absolutely. It's their favourite non-sexual activity. Sometimes a battle of wits and sometimes poetry and romanc.

17.Who's more likely to pull the other in by the waist and kiss them passionately?

Sinbad.

18..Who would get into a fight to defend the other's honor? 

Both. 

19.Who tends to the other's wounds?

Hakuyuu 

20.what reminds each of their partner?

Sea for Sinbad and fine sword craftsmanship for Hakuyuu. 

21.Who's more likely to convince the other to stay in bed come morning?

Sinbad.

22.Who's more likely to give the other a massage?

Hakuyuu. He likes the feeling of Sinbad's skin under his touch.

 23.Do they have any hobbies they share?

Political views discussions, practicing swordmanship, cooking. 

24.who is the light weight that needs to be taken care of after a party?

Funnily enough, Sinbad.

25.what are there thoughts on pet names? Do they have any?

Sinbad loves it, using Hakuyuu's title as an endearing form of tease and Hakuyuu loves it secretly.

26.your OTP gets to pick out each other's outfits; what is each wearing?

Sinbad in a royal frilly dress of Kou fit for an Empress and Hakuyuu in a simple Partevian outfit because despite everything Sinbad is attached to his roots.

27.can they sit side by side without touching the other or are they handsy? (lacing fingers, touching knees, etc.)

Yes. They are rulers after all.

28.who's the better story teller? 

Sinbad.

29.Who's the better cook?

Sinbad.

30.who's more likely to tell a dirty joke or story to make the other blush?

Both. Their private life is pretty - interesting - . 

31.who's more artistic?

Hakuyuu.

32.who's more likely to fire up the stove at 2am because the other woke up in the middle of the night hungry?

Hakuyuu.

33.Which is more likely to swear? 

Sinbad.

34.Who is more sexually experimental? 

Both.

35.who's more vanilla?

Hakuyuu

36.who would rescue an injured animal and nurse it back to health? 

Sinbad.

37.who an insatiable appetite? And what does the other do to help?

They both normally unless it is alcohol for Sinbad which hakuyuu disapproves.

38.what's  their favorite type of weather to enjoy together? 

Cool weather after the rain. 

39.Who would give their life for the other without a second thought?

Hakuyuu.

40.can they fall asleep without the other?

Yes. Diplomatic trips, anyone? 

41.Does either of them have a secret that could potentially ruin their relationship?

Of course.

42. Does either of them have a hard time being away from the other?

Yes. Hakuyuu. Sinbad is a man who cannot be chained.

43.who's more likely to do something out of spite?

Sinbad.

44.What’s a non verbal way they say I love you?

Lying on hakuyuu's lap and enjoying his hair being caressed for Sinbad and receiving unique souvenirs from Sinbad for Hakuyuu. 

45.Who’s more likely to carry the other to bed?

Sinbad. 

46.Do they like watching clouds or star gazing?

Yes. Star gazing with Sinbad telling hakuyuu about different stars and how sailors find their way based on them. 

47.What do they do turn the other on/put them in the mood?

Nothing but a good heated discussion and disagreements can do it better. 

48.Who’s more likely to hold a grudge after an argument?

Neither but Sinbad keeps pouting because he knows Hakuyuu cannot resist kissing him then. 

49. Who tops? Who bottoms?

They are a switch but with a top Sinbad preference. 

50.Who pulls the other closer when they’re sleeping?

Hakuyuu 

#magi #sinbad #ren hakuyuu

[savagecuhnt]

@frombloodandink​

OTP Questions. (had to post here because there was an error message with the ask.)

Who would end a heated argument by defending their actions with ‘because I love you!’ ? Rose, definitely Rose. Jamie is a hot head, and too prideful lol he would just stay mad.

What would they do if the other woke in a manic state after a nightmare? They love each other to wake up immediately and console the other. Holding each other, calming them down with kisses and soothing words.

  Do they wear the other’s clothes? (sweatshirt, bandana, necklace, etc.) Rose wears Jamie's clothes all the time. Shirts, vests, hoodies, bandanas, even chains if he leaves them around. He might wear a scarf cause it smells like her, or maybe wear a ring on his pinky.

Which one is more protective? Who needs to be ‘protected’? Jamie is OVERLY Protective. Quick to beat the shit out of someone for even looking at Rose the wrong way. Rose is protective, but Jamie doesn't need protecting, he makes it well known.

Describe their cozy night in. at home with a bottle of whiskey, beers, some good food, cuddled up in bed watching trashy tv and movies.

Who would beg the other not to leave? Who has to leave to protect the other? Rose would beg for Jamie to stay, Jamie would leave to protect Rose.

What happens if one of them gets sick? Rose would take care of Jamie. Baby him, make him soup and tea, get him meds. Jamie might get her the things she needs, and might hold her, but I don't picture him staying the whole time with her and catering to her lol

What are their thoughts on having children? maybe? they're too chaotic to be parents.

Describe their first date. beers and food, exploring the fair, riding rides.

Do either try to hide their emotions if upset? Can the other still tell? Im sure they try to hide their emotions, but its quite obvious when the other is pissed at the other.

Do they have many heated arguments? How do they smooth things over? hahahaha ALL THE TIME. usually by rough sex. Then that will turn to small apologies.

Who’s the bigger tease? They both are. They know what the other does to each other.

How do their personalities compliment each other? How do they clash? They're both hot heads, but they love each other. Rose is a little more put together than Jamie, and will try to keep him calm in certain situations, but most of the time they're just a violent storm together, destroying everything in their path.

Do they always say 'i love you' before leaving? Yes. Or Rose will throw a whole ass fit.

Can they stay up all night just talking? not usually talking. maybe back in the day.

Who's more likely to pull the other in by the waist and kiss them passionately? Jamie. At any moment he has the chance to and their not arguing or mad about something.

  How likely are they to have fur babies? Maybe a dog?

How do they feel about PDA? They don't give a fuck if anyone is watching. They'll fuck in a grocery store if they're in the mood.

Choose one song that perfectly describes their relationship. Video games By. Lana Del Ray

Who would get into a fight to defend the other's honor? Who tends to the other's wounds? JAMIE. and Rose would tend to his wounds if there were any lol

What reminds each of their partner? Whiskey. The fair. The smell of cigarette and leather. Motorcycles. Dead Roses. The strike of a flame.

Who's more likely to convince the other to stay in bed come morning? Rose would try to keep Jamie in bed.

Who's more likely to give the other a massage? Rose of course.

Do they have any hobbies they share? Armed robbery. Drinking.

What are their vices? Drugs and alcohol. chain smoking. Crime.

Who is the light weight that needs to be taken care of after a party? They can both hold their liquor well, but Rose would definitely have to deal with Jamie.

What are there thoughts on pet names?They have Your typical Babe, baby, my love. They might have special pet names.

Who is more likely to jump in an elevator? Who freaks out? neither? Jamie?

Your OTP gets to pick out each other's outfits; what is each wearing? Nothing at all lol

Can they sit side by side without touching the other or are they handsy? not a chance. They're super handsy. Jamie like to make sure everyone knows Rose is his. Same as Rose.

Who's the better story teller? Jamie, especially when he's drunk.

Who's the better cook? Rose most definitely.

Who's more likely to tell a dirty joke or story to make the other blush? Jamie.

Who's more artistic? Rose.

Who's more likely to fire up the stove at 2am because the other woke up in the middle of the night hungry? haha Rose will cook if he asks her to. no questions asked.

Which is more likely to swear? Both have terrible mouths lol

Who is more sexually experimental? Who's more vanilla? there is no vanilla here.

Who would rescue an injured animal and nurse it back to health? What would the other think? Rose.

Which one would take their jacket it off and drape over the other one because they were visibly shivering? Jamie.

What's their favorite type of weather to enjoy together?  A warm, clear night. Bike rides and car rides are a must.

Who would give their life for the other without a second thought? Both wouldn't hesitate.

Who would dance in the kitchen making dinner? Would the other join in or watch from the doorway? Rose would dance while cooking, Jamie would watch from the doorway smoking a cigarette, maybe even coming up behind her to kiss her as she sways.

Can they fall asleep without the other? yes, but it sucks. Does either of them have a secret that could potentially ruin their relationship? Jamie might. Rose wouldn't dare.

Who's the better driver? Both a ok drivers lol

Does either of them have a hard time being away from the other? Jamie spent quite some time away from Rose while he was locked up. Though they don't agree to be away from each other since then, they can cope.

who's more likely to do something out of spite? BOTH!

What’s a non verbal way they say I love you? hand holds, forehead kisses. Making Rose wear his helmet if they're on his bike, even if she doesn't need it.

Describe their weekend getaway? A Road trip to the coast. A shitty motel. Just them, enjoying each other.

Would they ever go skinny dipping? been there.

Who’s more likely to carry the other to bed? Jamie of course.

Do they like watching clouds or star gazing? sometimes. It's not too important for them.

What do they do turn the other on/put them in the mood? it doesn't take much. Just a rough kiss and a hard grip can do the job.

Whose the serious one when grocery shopping and who likes to toss random things in the cart? Rose is definitely the serious shopper.

Who’s more likely to hold a grudge after an argument? Both, honestly.

Who tops? Who bottoms? Jamie is the more dominant one, but allows Rose on top when he's in the mood for it.

Who pulls the other closer when they’re sleeping? Jamie. Rose doesn’t even need a blanket when he’s holding her close, he runs HOT.

#frombloodandink

[mahvaladara]

All the OTP Questions for Arlo and his future angel fish. (If Iza has already asked then Syria and whoever she's going to be with.)

Here goes.

Part 1

How did they first meet?

They met after Arlo discovered he had the power to tear reality open. He had been chasing off a dragon when he found the path to that Universe, and after finding a place he liked, and there, one day, a beautiful angel found him.

2. How did they get together?

At first Arlo didn’t want to go back, but it kept nagging at the back of his mind. The only thing that brought him some semblance of joy, the only place where it didn’t feel like he was dying so he kept going and... they just pulled to one another. Like a comet to a black hole. Bad idea, but a fact of the universe.

3. Who kissed who first?

Fannar did. Arlo has always been privy to kissing due to his condition.

4. What’s the relationship like? Smooth? Rocky?

Rockier than Alcatraz in a storm. But there was a rainbow after the storm. And even though there are days were they question their decision to be together, they realize it was all worth it.

5. Who cleans the most? Contrary to that, who is the messiest?

Arlo and Fannar are both a bit of neat freaks. Due to having rot, Arlo is very privy to messes. He’s also extremely sensitive to bad scents. This guy can smell the garbage truck five blocks away. So he enjoys keeping his home spotless. Cluttered as all hell but spotless. Fannar is a lot more organized. As a doctor and a pharmacist he likes to keep everything neatly organized.

6. Who usually cooks?

Fannar cooks. Only thing Arlo can cook is potions and mischief.

7. Who tends to worry the most?

Arlo is a worrier. Fannar does worry but they’re a lot more calm and collected. Fannar will keep his cool through a hurricane. Arlo however is a lot more antsy and worried. He has this look of confidence, but in the inside, this cronic overthinker is already worrying over the worse case possible.

8. Who is more inclined to be jealous or possessive?

Neither of them are the jealous or possessive type. But Arlo’s love is a bit selfish though, as he’s capable of harming or putting Fannar in harms way just to be around him. He’s working on that though.

9. How do they resolve their arguments?

Both of them have a very good system, which is to walk out the steam then return to talk and work things out. Usually Fannar let’s Arlo speak his chest out to him afterwards and listens. Usually the first thing Arlo dies us apologize rather he’s guilty or not, he just feels the need to instantly apologize to Fannar for causing him upset. Then he’ll let out his chest.

10. Who is the most physically affectionate?

Fannar. 

Arlo is very touch starved, but due to his former condition, he still kinda fears touching Fannar with the possibility of hurting him. So he’s not all touchy. Usually Fannar is the one touching him. Arlo does enjoy being touched, he is touch starved and he just goes with it because he loves it and knows his worries are unfounded (but it’s stronger than him). But Fannar is usually the one grabbing his hand, caressing his cheek or kissing him.

Arlo however does love touching and being touched by Fannar, especially when they’re alone.

11. Who has the most nightmares and how do they deal with them?

Fannar has a lot of nightmares involving his torture and kidnapping. When he does, Arlo will hold him and wake him up, usually by holding him. Sometimes Fannar ends up waking up Arlo with his nightmares, when they are particularly violent. Usually Fannar wakes up crying, tears running, sweating and pale and almost feverish. Legs and body sore, his head aching and spinning and he wakes up feeling like he wants to throw up. Like his body remembers the pain, and Arlo will gently massage their legs and shoulders and rock him until he calms down.

Arlo on the other hand, due to his memory having been so heavily damaged, suffers from sleep paralisys, sometimes accompanied with vivid hallucinations, as if his mind is trying to forcibly recall what it lost. One of the worst cases usually involve an events he suffered as a teenager, to which his body will convulse violently, he groans and moans and is tearing up but cannot cry or move out of this position.

This one is harder for Fannar to snap him out of and usually all he can do is hold Arlo and let him ride out of the event. 

#arlo #fannar #oc asks

[witch-and-her-witcher]

number 11 for the domestic OTP with children prompt pls 🫣😘

#11 - “Where is [child’s name]?” “I thought you had them!”

The day after the Wild Hunt departed from Hirundum had started off near disastrous and the haflings still tucked safely within their home feared another storm would rage across their farmland. When the threat of a torrent passed and only a light drizzle of rain fell, Petunia could only confirm it was good for the crops - she couldn't know that the torrent was only dulled by the calming of the sorceress on their land.

Geralt and Yennefer had used all their words, expressed the hurt and love that swirled chaotically within them, until all that was left was what they did best - physical expression of the passion they shared. A shock of lightning had crashed when their lips first met, but as they desperately searched each other's body for every moment they had missed appreciating one another in the years of separation, the worst of the storm clouds parted along with Yennefer's lips to release her wanton moans.

The haste and whirlwind of sexual desire dampened though as soft rain drops began to pelt their faces. They both turned their eyes heavenwards and Geralt was the first to laugh as the water cooled his warm skin. Yennefer's chime of amusement joined, raindrops collecting on her thick lashes.

When they took to the run in likely reserved for Hofmeier's cattle, Yennefer could have cared less about the rustic setting. Geralt made slow, careful love to her against the wooden slats of the shelter as the rain drops on the metal roof chorused the orchestra of emotions and sensations lighting up within the sorceress. They could have stayed in that moment for time eternity, anger for each other melted into nothing but each other's names softly spoken adoringly into the air, but they knew destiny couldn't allow for that.

When they walked back to the hafling's home, both damp from the easing rain but lighter on their feet, Dandelion awaited them with the expression of a pleased cat.

"It seems as if all has been resolved?" the poet asked cheekily.

Geralt rolled his eyes. "Where's Ciri?"

Dandelion blinked. "Oh ... I thought, that, well ..."

"Spit it out, bard," Yennefer hastened.

"She said she went to look for the two of you?" Dandelion offered weakly.

Geralt and Yennefer shared a moment of panic, both of their minds transported to the evening before and the spectral force threatening their child. Neither had the experience to know this was a rite of passage for all parents, the overwhelming fear that a moment of self-absorption had allowed for the worst to occur.

"Witcher, witcher!" The child's cry of the oldest Hofmeier boy brought their attention the backside of the home.

Dandelion had no hope of keeping up with the worried guardians, but he rounded the corner of the house in time to see the perfect scene for a poet's mind. Geralt and Yennefer both looked torn between pride and horror as Cirilla stood at the young Hofmeier's side, drowner's ghastly decapitated head thrust forward like a trophy in one hand, Geralt's silver sword hanging comedically large in her other. Both youths were soggy and muddy.

"What happened?" Geralt and Yennefer demanded in unison.

"Well, I was looking for you two when - "

"She saved me!" Young Franklin cut in despite his mother's shrill screams as she ran up to him. "I was at the pond where the other boy drowned, and she saved me!"

Ciri grinned widely. "You left your silver sword, Geralt, so I was able to grab it and then chase after the beast that had this boy in his clutches. It was really nothing."

Yennefer turned to Geralt and had to suppress a groan at the starry-eyed expression in the witcher's eyes. There would be no support from him to curtail the girl's behavior unprovoked. "You should have called for an adult, Ciri," Yennefer chided, motioning for Geralt to take the drowner's head, "That sword is obviously too heavy for you and what if there had been more than one?"

Some of the smug attitude drained from the girl's face and she glanced back at the murky water of the pond. Emerald eyes returned to Geralt for reassurance. The witcher retrieved the drowner's head and his sword, and seemingly determined to not ruin anything between himself and the sorceress so soon, he nodded gravely.

"It was dangerous, Ciri."

"Well, now that that's sorted, we should ride to Loxia at once - " Yennefer was abruptly cut off by the halfing parents demanding they stay to at least break their fast with them in thanks for saving their son's life. The sorceress was begrudgingly whisked to the home with Petunia, torn between politeness and not wanting Ciri out of her sights again.

Dandelion remained back long enough to see his old friend shoot his daughter a wink and speak in a low voice, "How did you manage in the water? I told you the ankle weights were worth the annoyance in sparring."

It had seemed impossible to imagine the trio as a family, but now it seemed perfectly reasonable and even right.

--

Sorry this wasn't super fluffy, but I couldn't resist! This is set right between Chapter 2 and 3 in Time of Contempt.

Original Post (feel free to request more or other prompts!)

#domestic otp prompts #yenralt #ciri #dandelion #time of contempt #witcher #fan fic

[andordean]

OTP Asks for Cahir/Ciri (and maybe Ciri/Tankred you want to do them as well): 3, 9, 12, 13,14, 20, 51, 58

I saved this as a draft and then Life Happened, sorry it took me so long!! 💜

I'm likely gonna do three versions of it for canon/modern AU Cahir/Ciri and the. CIRI/TANKRED AS REQUESTED (Blood Times got to 300 kudos, celebratory post coming! 🥳🥳🥳)

3. Do they wear the other’s clothes? (sweatshirt, bandana, necklace, etc.)

Ciri steals their clothes aplenty; shirts in canon verse, a particularly soft hoodie in modern!AU that's hers now, thanks for asking, and a particular robe in black and red that used to be Tankred's but it brings out her eyes, and also, it's incredibly warm, perfect for the wretched Koviri weather.

9. What are their thoughts on having children?

Canon!Ciri is not comfortable with the idea At All. Too much has happened, too much has been done to her, too many times she's been treated like a breeding mare for this to be something she actively wants.

In the Queen of Cintra verse, she grows to accept it as part of the package, but delays it for as long as possible.

In Pieces verse, she gets pregnant by accident, and is considering aborting the child. Ultimately decides against it.

Modern!AU Ciri isn't mad about the idea, but can be convinced. Maybe.

Cahir wants kids in any and all verses; Tankred accepts it as an integral part of being a royal. He doesn't have any strong feelings about it one way or another--until he does.

12. Do they have many heated arguments? How do they smooth things over?

Ciri/Cahir in Witcher-verse: not too many. Most often over Ciri being reckless and putting herself in danger. (Ciri never acknowledges she's at fault here, but she does promise to do better. Then she goes and breaks this promise.)

Ciri/Cahir in Splinters verse: nothing worse than their breakup fight

Ciri/Tankred: not really. Tankred is a good negotiator, and he doesn't let her wind him up too often. They have heated discussions, but they rarely escalate; too much is at stake. (To smooth things over, they fuck.)

13. Who’s the bigger tease?

Cahir/Ciri in Pieces: Ciri

In modern!AU: both are equally bad

Ciri/Tankred: smug boi is a hedonist through and through.

14. How do their personalities compliment each other? How do they clash?

Cahir/Ciri: he's calm to her storm, he's the one emotionally open, he's the one who knows what he wants. Clashing: she can be reckless and impatient; he can be unwilling to take risks.

Ciri/Tankred: her intuition with his strategic talent; her courage with his cunningness; her fierceness with his (cold) calculation; her imagination and idealism with his pragmatism. Clashing: her hot-headed attitude; his pride and arrogance

20. Choose one song that perfectly describes their relationship.

Ciri/Cahir Pieces verse:

Ciri/Cahir modern!AU:

Ciri/Tankred:

51. What’s a non verbal way they say I love you?

For Cahir/Ciri, answered here.

Ciri/Tankred: little gestures in public, invisible or innocent enoguh to the onlookers. Touch. Massage after a particularly draining day. Tankred likes to give her jewelry with rubies to represent his house colours; Ciri isn't entirely against the idea.

58. Who’s more likely to hold a grudge after an argument?

Ciri, in any verse, in any relationship. 😆

Thank you so much for the ask dear 💜💜💜

#thank you ❤️ #ciri/cahir #ciri/tankred

[shadowsong26fic]

Aftermath

Author: shadowsong26

‘Verse: Feredar

Rating: PG-13

Characters: Taz, Dallu

Warnings: War/combat

Notes: Written for the Year of the OTP event. May prompt: sunshine.

(I am also doing this for Star Wars, BSG, and two of my other original ‘verses, if you’re interested in checking those out! One ship per canon. The fanfic ones will be posted to AO3 probably a day or two after they’re on tumblr. Master list of all fills can be found here.)

The light from the setting sun was starting to bleed through the smoke. Stab through, more like; rays of light like blades or arrows, raining down on the deck of her Morning Glory.

But it was over. They’d gotten clear and it was…over. For now.

She limped across the deck, sword still out in her hand just in case, keeping one eye out for Dallu in the controlled chaos of her crew taking stock of the damage and coming down off the adrenaline of the fight.

There.

She picked up her pace, ignoring the fresh rivulet of blood as it soaked its way down her pantleg.

“You all right?” she called.

He looked up. Bruised, ash-streaked, but calm. “I’m good,” he assured her, as he stepped over a broken crate to meet her halfway.

With her free arm, she tugged him the last few feet and then held him close as she could. She felt the comforting weight of his hands on her back as he held her in return, and felt her heartbeat come back down to something like normal.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like combat--part of her, anyway, thrilled in it. The wild adventurer, the storm in her, thrived there.

It wasn’t even that this had been especially bad. She’d had pirate actions and feud actions that had caused more damage, taken more lives. Hell, she’d weathered actual storms--mostly before she’d gotten her Glory and her Dallu--that had cost her more than this delta skirmish.

And she knew it would get worse over the next few months, or years, as more nations openly picked sides and joined what was shaping up to be a long and bloody war with Feredar.

Just…something about today; about that Ketarre-built ship coming up faster than she could see and trying to stop her.

Failing, of course, because she and her crew were damn good, but.

Fuck.

“I’m good,” Dallu said, again. “Kes, too, she’s seeing to the refugees, keeping them calm.”

“Good,” Taz said, and pulled back just far enough to kiss him, to take a moment, to breathe.

“You’re bleeding,” he said.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t leave it, promise?”

“I won’t,” she said, and leaned her forehead against his. “I gotta see to things, then I will. Promise.”

“I love you,” he said.

They didn’t say it often, just when one or the other of them needed to hear it. Like she needed it now. Dallu was always so good at knowing when she needed it. What she needed most of the time, really. She hoped she did half as well for him.

“Love you,” she said, then kissed him again.

Dallu’s hand trailed along her arm, his fingers threading through hers. “I’ll be here when you’re done,” he said.

“I know,” she said, then squeezed his hand briefly before disengaging and turning back out to survey the deck.

The last of the smoke was clearing away, and that sunlight streaming down--seemed less like blood or blades now, reflecting red-gold against her blade, Dallu’s hair, the spilled water on the deck.

Reminding her they’d made it.

Dallu was all right, and he’d said her sister was too; her crew and her Glory had a lot more fight within them yet. If it had been a rough day, at the end of it, she still had all that mattered.

She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the sunlight wash over her like the freshwater falls back home. Then she took a breath, wiped her sword on the cleaner of her pantlegs and sheathed it, then limped back across the deck to be the Captain her people needed while they dealt with the aftermath of battle.

#shadowsong writes original fic

[dustystarlite]

For the Send A Character by mushroom-cookie-bear: Nyx Ulrich, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, and Loqi Tummelt!

Thank you for sending these @chocobothis

Nyx Ulric

Favorite thing about them: Does everything, class?? My favorite thing will forever be his personality, the way he jumps into battle for his loved ones.

Least favorite thing about them:… His death…

Favorite line: "I'm worth the wait, "… more fandom reason… ;) Nonfandom line: "To hell with your power. I'm not here for it. I only came to tell you, you are no kings."

BrOTP: The glaives

OTP: NyxNoct!!!

NOTP: I only share positive vibes

random headcanon: His birthday reflect the goddess he was named after Dec 21; for the winter solstice, he enjoys wine tasting, surfing, and rock climbing.

Unpopular opinion: hmmm… I don't think I have one for him???

Song I associate with them, Calm my storm- Spoken, Hero/Heroine-Boys like Girls, NYX-Yoko Shimomura, and Down and Out- Tantric

Favorite picture of them

Lunafreya Nox Fleuret

Favorite thing about them: The way she cares for Pryna and Umbra.

Least favorite thing: There wasn't enough of her in the game 🤷‍♀️ she appeared poof gone.

Favorite line: um?? I'm not really sure

BrOTP: Ravus &Prompt

OTP: Ardyn & Prompto & Crowe mostly

NOTP: I only share positive vibes

Random headcanon: She likes edible flowers, and when she was kid, she made for known journal/documentary of her grand adventure into the Tenebrae wilderness along with Pryna and Umbra.

Unpopular opinion:

Songs I associate with them: If U seek Amy-Britney Spears

Favorite picture of them

Loqi Tummelt

Favorite thing about them: I totally understand the Cor thing, I still remember my first play thru, and I fully appreciate the fanboy thing

Least favorite thing: umm??? Same as Luna there wasn't enough of him.

Favorite line: He didn't have many, so I'm not sure just how he said Cor name… okay so it's not an actual line but it give me feels

BrOTP: Cor, Ravus and Aranea

OTP: I don't have one

NOTP:I only share positive vibes

Random headcanon: He has Cor shrine

Unpopular opinion:

Song I associate with them: Every time we Touch- Cascada

Favorite picture of them

#reds ask

[munstysmind]

Obligatory OTP Asks #2, 4, 11, 17, 23, 28, 33, 37, 42, 49, 54 and 60

2. What would they do if the other woke in a manic state after a nightmare?

We may or may not be seeing this in an upcoming chapter so I’m gonna leave you guessing on this one…

4. Which one is more protective? Who needs to be ‘protected’?

Chris. It’s mostly because of what she’s gone through, he’s determined to make sure she never experiences anything like that again and after what happened in “Last Day” he’s more protective of her than ever.

11. Do either try to hide their emotions if upset? Can the other still tell?

Maddie. She’s been conditioned to hide her feelings as to not get yelled at and that’s something that takes a lot of time to unlearn. For the most part Chris knows when she’s not saying how she feels, he also knows that she’s not doing it on purpose. He never pushes her because the defeats the purpose of her willingly opening up but he often reminds her she doesn’t have to hide her feelings from him and that often prompts her to open up on her own.

17. Who's more likely to pull the other in by the waist and kiss them passionately?

Chris. The man is a self proclaimed romantic. He’s actually holding back a lot with Maddie because she’s not ready for how full on he can get and he respects that. It’s hard but he’s not going to complain because she’s so worth it. He can’t wait until the day he doesn’t have to hold back with her though.

23. Who's more likely to convince the other to stay in bed come morning?

Maddie. Chris has a weakness for cuddling with her and she’s already figured this out. She’s used it to her advantage more than once. The man can’t say no to cuddles in bed.

28. What are there thoughts on pet names? Do they have any?

Chris loves them, Maddie hates them. It’s another thing Travis ruined for her. She does love how Chris calls her Beautiful all the time though. She’s very slowly opening up to the idea but it will be quite a while before she calls Chris by a pet name, if ever.

33. Who's the better cook?

Maddie. Chris is getting better though, very slowly.

37. Which is more likely to swear?

Maddie. She’s Australian, swearing is part of the national language. Never trust an Aussie that doesn’t swear.

42. What's their favorite type of weather to enjoy together? (getting snowed in together, watching thunderstorms, etc.)

Ironically, thunderstorms. Ever since Chris was able to talk her through her panic attack during the storm at her place she’s loved watching them, only when she’s with him though. When she’s alone they still scare her.

49. Does either of them have a hard time being away from the other?

Yes. Both of them. They both sleep better at night next to each other. Their anxiety is calm. And they’re overall just happier. Maddie struggles with her feelings of safety and Chris struggles with knowing he’s not there if something happens to her.

54. Who’s more likely to carry the other to bed?

Chris. He’s never once fallen asleep before her. Whether it be in bed or on the couch, she’s always the first one asleep. He’s carried her to bed more times than he can count. He’s become an expert at pulling back the covers with her in his arms.

60. Who pulls the other closer when they’re sleeping?

Chris. Although it’s rare that he does. They always fall asleep cuddled up together. If they drift apart she actually seeks him out in her sleep most of the time.

#munstysmind #maddison original series #inbox #ask game #anon