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queenofthefullmoon · 4 years

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An exhaustive list of Dark Souls 3 bosses I would or would not date

Iudex/Champion Gundyr

We’re starting off this list with a strong yes. Our boy Gundyr has had a hard, difficult life, and he deserves some good company. He’s tall, strong, and I trust him to protect us as we set a lovely camp site outside of the fire link shrine.

Vordt of the Boreal Valley

Vordt is big and he is feral which are truly the only two qualities I look for in a man. Together we’d be unstoppable. I mean, think about how easy it would be to go around with him: just climb on his back and let the rodeo begin, baby. This argument alone should be enough to convince you that Vordt is a suitable boyfriend, but here’s another one: if you get too hot in the summer, worry fucking not for your gigantic man can hold his equally gigantic hammer over you and cover you with snow like an italian man covering his pasta with parmesan.

Cursed Rotted Greatwood

Now while I’m certain it would be a perfect partner for some people, the Cursed Rotted Greatwood isn’t for me. For one, I am not fan of curses, or rot, or weird sticky balls, or strange orange acid, or pale white and slightly viscous hands bursting through a living tree. Secondly, I feel like the crowd of Hollows who group up around the tree would be a big impediment to our intimacy, and I’m not ready to be the mother of 20 Hollows.

Crystal Sage

No offense but you’d be an idiot for not wanting to date the Crystal Sage. All wrapped up in one package, you get a super competent sorcerer bf, who wears the coolest hat in the galaxy and an equally cool cape, and who overall looks like the upgraded version of a plague doctor. In addition to that he also has a pretty rapier so you can both engage in some sparring (which we all know is the most romantic couple activity).

Deacons of the Deep

Probably one of the worst options on the list, they’re all crusty, rotting men moaning around a biggass coffin. There are many technical questions. If I dated a deacon, would I have to date all of them? Can we go out on dates or are they obligated to stay next to the coffin at all times? Can I even date them at all?? Not that I would, because I have standards. The only pro to entering this relationship(s?) would be that I’d probably get one of their robes for free, but the cons are so numerous that I’d rather buy it myself.

Abyss Watchers

Let’s be real and honest even if it hurts. Would I date an Abyss Watcher? Yes. Maybe I’d even date two. However, would an Abyss Watcher date me? No, because they’re all in love with Artorias, and I can’t blame them for that.

Old Demon King

At first I considered dating the Old Demon King like a Russian Instagram model dates an old, rich American man: with a great deal of fake love but above all great patience in order to be the only person on the will. But then I thought about it more, and what does the Old Demon King have to offer, really? A big firework show that will leave him exhausted like the old creature he is, and maybe some pyromancies. Truly, it is not worth it, especially since I’d have to take residence where he lives, in a big old room filled with the corpses of his kin.

High Lord Wolnir

I’ve got nothing against Wolnir personally, but I have no interest in skeletons, nor in his army of skeleton children. As stated above I’m not ready to be a mother. I feel like if we got in an argument and he sighed, he would poison me with his awful breath and I would die a horrible death. Also, living on the brink of the Abyss doesn’t appeal to me that much. However I would like Wolnir to be a good friend I can talk jewelry with because let’s be honest, the man (skeleton?) is blinged the fuck out even in death and I respect that.

Yhorm the Giant

Yes, I would date Yhorm. He was nothing but a sweet, misunderstood giant who always tried to get people to trust him and he convinced me. I would put my life in his big hands. Think of the possibilities. Just like with Vordt he could carry you everywhere but in a less reckless way if you prefer proper manners. You’d never have to worry about not seeing anything at a concert. Also, may I add that waiting for you to show up while sitting on his biggass throne is an absolute power move? Yhorm is a Lord of Cinder, but above all, a Lord of this heart.

Pontiff Sulyvahn

Would I date him because of his appealing aesthetic? Yes. Would I date him for anything else? No. Sulyvahn is absolutely terrifying, completely unhinged in the most frightening way, which is that he doesn’t look bat shit crazy. I could be thinking that everything is going well in our relationship then suddenly he’d lock me in a dungeon then would feed me to his weird friend because I put a fork in the knife drawer. He could pretend to propose and give me a weird fucked up ring with his eye in it and the next thing I know I’d be running in a field on all fours. I don’t trust like that.

Aldritch, Devourer of Gods

I’m so sad about Aldritch because literally everything about him is completely unappealing, unacceptable, unnatural, unholy, abhorrent, but he has the delicate and beautiful face of Gwyndolin. While our lovely Gwyndolin looks gorgeous as ever it doesn’t make up for the fact that Aldritch devoured people and probably wouldn’t find love to be a good reason to not eat his partner. The only reason I can find to have a friendship (not even a romantic relationship) with him is if you really like experimenting with cooking and you really, really need someone to taste your inventions.

Dancer of the Boreal Valley

I feel attraction, which means that just like any other being who feels attraction, I would date the Dancer. She is beautiful, graceful, a bit feral, and would not hesitate to put a flaming knife to my throat, which is the description of my dream woman. Imagine walking the streets with her, trying to hold her hand while it dangles 3 feet above you and she insists on holding her sword, actually, so she might slay anyone who tries to approach you, which she communicates through icy breaths and murmurs. The date of a lifetime.

Oceiros, the Consumed King

Another awful choice on this list, Oceiros is RABID and also, as far as we know, still a married man. You really want to date a man that hasn’t even gone through his divorce but already looks like this? Me neither. I’m already not big on dragon fucking but the fact that he’s all viscous and has weird growths all over him is not helping. Also, he has children, and we know how I feel about that — although, given how he treats them, he probably won’t have kids very soon (too far?).

Ancient Wyvern

So I’ve stated that I’m not very big on dragon fucking. With that said, do I think the wyvern is sexy and beautiful? Absolutely so. You’re probably like « Blue you’re sending mixed signals, are you gonna date the lizard or not? » and to that I say, date? Perhaps not. I would however like to form a lifelong bond with this wonderful force of nature and fight by its side, live a long and fulfilling life travelling along with it, only to die at the same time atop the tallest mountain in the world, where our skeletons will be discovers hundreds of years in the future by brave explorers, who will confirm that the legendary songs that were written about us were in fact not just a myth.

Nameless King

You’ve just read what I said about the wyvern. I feel like the Nameless King really understands me and would respect me for that. We could bond over our love of dragons and other flying scaly beasts and perhaps share some chaste kisses while soaring the sky on our companions. It’s nice to date someone who loves pets as much as you. I feel like he would be a fun guy to hang around in general, maybe he’d let you braid his hair or try on his crown. He can arrange personalized fireworks shows for you with his lightning powers. I don’t think you’d ever be bored around him.

Dragonslayer Armor

Dating an empty suit of armor has never bothered me (see: ds2 Ruin Sentinels), however I have beef with the dragonslayer armor. Is it a beautiful armor? Perhaps a bit worn off, but the reply remains affirmative. However, it is controlled by Pilgrim Butterflies, which basically means I’m dating one to multiple of these things in the shape of an armor, and I’ve gotta confess that I’m not down for that.

Lorian Older Prince and Lothric Younger Prince

Here comes the delicate moment where we have to make a choice without offending anyone. I personally, speaking for myself, in my own opinion, would rather date Lorian. Reason: he is big, strong, and a bit rabid, which I’ve made very clear is my type. I don’t dislike Lothric, but I feel like we’d be better off as best friends who have a really snarky group chat where we shit talk the entire kingdom. That’s pretty good because if I even just slightly disliked Lothric I’m pretty sure Lorian would sense it and would not hesitate to murder me on sight.

Champion’s Gravetender and Champion Greatwolf

Well the full name is just a formality here, I’m not completely insane so I don’t want to date this rabid wolf. I feel like the Champion’s Gravetender is just a normal dude who’s a bit in over his head and it’s not his fault but he just seems a bit boring compared to all my other options. Instead of a date I think he’d be more of an awkward flirt I had when I was bored and then I came to my senses but didn’t know how to disengage, but in the end it worked out because he was more interested in his work anyway.

Sister Friede and Father Ariandel

Again a choice has to be made and I will have to be predictable and say I’d date Elfriede. Just like Dancer she’s what the woman of my dreams is made of. She’s graceful and could easily take my life and I think it’s awfully sexy of her to be like that. I think I’d be accepted into the family pretty easily, which is important since Father Ariandel cares about Friede so much. I’d go visit him sometimes, play chess with him, bring him his flail, normal interactions with your girlfriend’s dad.

Soul of Cinder

I’m gonna be a tiny bit freaky here and say I’d date the Soul of Cinder. Dating it is just like opening a Kinder Surprise egg, you never know what you’re gonna get (sorry Americans for excluding you here). That makes life exciting and doesn’t let routine stall your relationship. Every day you can wake up with the question « What weapon will my darling walk around with today? The flaming sword, or the sorcery staff? » and be surprised by the answer. Truly ideal, but I understand it’s not for the faint of heart.

Demon Prince

I’m gonna go with a maaaaaaybeeeee? leaning towards no. I mean yes, the Demon Prince is a weird fleshy flaming demon, and that may be a bit gross, but I’ve gotta admit I admire his style, the drama of it all. The care he puts into his entrance, the attitude in his moves. If we don’t date I’d at least want to be friends so he can teach me his ways.

Darkeater Midir

I have very intense and contradictory feelings towards Midir. In one hand, holy shit, absolutely epic dragon, the spirit of companionship is growing in me. On the other hand, this beast is RABID and pretending I could tame him is foolish, and pretentious. I guess in the end the answer remains that I don’t date dragons, I just want to adopt them as my extremely exotic pets.

Halflight, Spear of the Church

Yeah I’d date Halflight, I know it’s the easy answer but look at him. I mean shit he’s walking around like a little thotty with his shirt open and you mean to tell me I’m not supposed to wanna date him because he looks pretty much like a regular dude? My boy Halflight WANTS me to date him or else he would not show up with his tiddies out to a sword fight, which as an activity already has enough erotic implications on its own.

Slave Knight Gael

I’m gonna say it unashamedly and I’ll say it again: I would date Gael. He’s been nothing but helpful and when he tries to attack you it’s to help his little lady that he’s adopted as his niece. We love a chaotic parental figure. Maybe he’s a tad bit old and dirty but there’s nothing a good bath can’t fix and I’m sure he’d appreciate having someone taking care of him for once. Again, he’s got that slightly unhinged quality to him that makes him delightful. When I walk around with my partner I want us to instill both fear and fascination in people which we would be able to accomplish perfectly well.

Dark Souls 1: Remastered date list // Dark Souls 2: Scholar of the First Sin date list

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izaswritings · 4 years

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Title: hello to my old heart

Fandom: Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure | Tangled the Series | Varian and the Seven Kingdoms AU

Synopsis: “Why do you trust me so much?”

Or: the beginning of the end for the betrayer. In which Hugo asks a long-overdue question, and gets the answer he never wanted to hear.

AO3 Link is Here!

It is midnight after the trial, after retrieving yet another totem, after everything, and Hugo thinks he might be sick.

Too close, he thinks. Too close. Everything that’s happened, everything he’s been doing… and Donella was there. She saw him, she met his eyes—pretended she hadn’t known him, kept his cover, and yet the unease is still there, itching beneath his skin, restless in his hands. Donella. There. The group had clashed with her. She’d warned them about the Library. Varian had said—

I won’t let you stop me!

—and she’d smiled. Smiled. Like she knew something Varian didn’t.

Nothing happened, Hugo reminds himself. It’s dark now—gone straight through evening right on to night—and their small group has settled down by the city limits, half-way in the trees. Yong has the campfire already lit and burning under Nuru’s supervision; Nuru has the maps spread out on her knees, plotting the best route towards the next kingdom. It’s domestic and normal and natural—and it makes Hugo want to scream, almost. When did he get used to this? It makes him feel jittery and thin and small, because for the first time in a long time—in months! Goddamn!—he’s been reminded, forcibly and irrevocably, of just how little he belongs here.

Nuru had noticed, earlier. Of course Nuru had noticed—she’s the most focused of the four of them, the most eagle-eyed, as one should be when making maps out of stars. Did you know her? she’d asked him then, after Donella had vanished, her voice low as they’d run and left the kingdom behind them. That woman? And when Hugo’s throat had sealed up, sudden and sharp and awful, Nuru had looked him full in the face and said, Oh. Never mind.

So stupid, Hugo thinks, leaning against a tree to hide the weakness in his knees, watching Nuru fuss over the maps. So, so stupid of her. Where has all her suspicion gone? She was always the most critical of him—he knows that, he remembers that, how can he not—even though she was never there for the beginning. And now— now.

Oh. Never mind.

His fingers curl in his sleeve. He chances a glance back, through the trees. Varian is off to the side, away from the fire, deeper in the shadows, his own private set up for a new experiment of his. He’s been there for a while, now, ever since they settled down to camp. Had said, laughingly, that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to mess with this compound around the fire, start dinner without me—and Hugo can only just barely see the shape of him through the shadows of the trees. That dark head of hair is bowed low over the makeshift workbench; he can’t see Varian’s face, but Hugo can imagine the focus of it, the intent. Trust. If Hugo is really going to start berating this group about faith, shouldn’t he start with the worst offender?

He’s only here at all, Hugo knows, with a sudden twist to his gut, because months ago Varian decided to have faith in him. For some reason. For…

Hugo doesn’t even know why. He’s never asked. It’s… never mattered before.

But Donella’s smile plays out in his head, and Nuru’s voice says, soft and careful—Never mind— and Hugo is walking over to Varian before he even knows, truly, what he’s doing.

It’s quiet here, away from the main camp. There is something strangely secret about it all, about the distance and the darkness and the way Nuru and Yong’s voices have faded to whispers behind him. The lamplight of Varian’s staff casts a quiet green glow across everything; it should be sinister, in a way, and yet it just feels warm. In the light Varian himself is focused entirely on the project before him—he likely hasn’t even noticed Hugo is there, Hugo thinks faintly, and for some reason, despite everything, this almost makes him laugh.

He leans against a nearby tree, arms crossed, and says, “Pretty sure that element explodes under heat, you know. I do hope you know that. Why are you trying to set it on fire?” He grins. “Oh! Oh, don’t tell me, did you mistake it for lithium? That’s adorable. Beginner’s mistake. So cute.”

Varian’s shoulders tick up, and his hand spasms, the vial almost dropped. “Gah!” His eyes flash sideways, narrow beneath his goggles. “Stop doing that! Why do you always sneak up on—never mind, doesn’t matter, shut up, I know what I’m doing.”

Hugo hums, as skeptical as he can, if only to make Varian scowl. “You’re doing it wrong.”

“Ha, ha,” Varian says, sarcastic, but the old bite is worn now, almost fond, though he sounds a little annoyed regardless. “You don’t even know what I’m making, shove off.”

“…True.” Hugo leans against the tree, sliding down until he’s sitting, one leg drawn up. He rests his elbow on his knee and watches Varian work. Whatever he’s making, it’s lovely—all silver and bronze and glowing solution like a liquid gold. For all his doubts on its application, Hugo can at least appreciate the aesthetics of it. It’s probably important. Probably for the machine, the gateway to the Library. Probably…

Probably something Donella would want him to steal, eventually.

The tightness returns, winding vicious in his gut. Hugo looks away, and lets the conversation drop, unsure of how to continue it, if he even wants to. Varian goes back to work without comment, obvious dismissal, and Hugo stays sitting there, awkward, feeling out-of-place and unsure of why.

But Varian hasn’t asked him to leave, yet—not that Hugo would even if he had, but whatever—so he stays, lingering on the fringes, watching Varian work. For all of Hugo’s teasing, Varian really is clever. The focus in those blue eyes, the intent line of his mouth—this is Varian thinking, Varian with the world spinning out in blueprints behind his eyes, and Hugo has always admired that feeling, always loved it, always appreciated the fact Varian knew and understood it the same way he did.

He leans his head back against the tree, and sighs.

“So,” Hugo says, finally, absent and casual and not-that-I-care-but, eyes deliberately turned away, “what’s your deal with me, anyway?”

Varian hums, not listening. Then the words actually compute, because he snorts suddenly, and pushes his goggles away from his face. “What?”

He’s smiling. Something about that sits wrong with Hugo; it flutters in his chest like a wound. Hugo tries not to scowl. Casual, damn it. “What do you mean, what?” He rolls his eyes. “This weird… I don’t even know. Faith, or whatever. I mean, seriously.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, even from the beginning…” All of Yong’s protests, Nuru’s suspicions—and Varian, who listened and nodded and then waved them away. We’ll see, he’d said, to their fears. And to Hugo: I’m trying to trust you. Don’t prove me wrong, okay?

Hugo hadn’t cared, then, about the why. He hadn’t… it had been an in, an easy entrance, and so he’d never thought to question it. So what if Varian was naive, too trusting for his own good—all the better for Hugo, wasn’t it? And so Hugo had never asked. He’d barely even wondered.

“Why,” Hugo says, months too late but wondering all the same, “do you trust me so much?”

“Hmm.” Varian has raised a vial to his face, peering into the contents. He waves a dismissive hand, absent-minded. He’s not even listening, Hugo realizes, and it’s like a hot knife to his gut. “Why not?”

“I—” And oh, fucking hell, that had almost come out strangled. Hugo snaps his mouth shut, feeling slapped and not entirely sure why. For the love of… this is what he gets for being open, Hugo supposes. This is what he gets for asking too late. Gods. Screw this, anyway.

He climbs to his feet, face flushed, hands curled. “Whatever.”

He’s making back for the campfire when Varian’s voice stops him cold. “Wait.” Despite himself, Hugo looks back. Varian has lowered the vial. He’s looking at Hugo now—actually, truly looking, with a sudden intent that makes Hugo straighten on instinct. In the pale green glow of the staff, Varian’s eyes are sharp as glass.

Varian searches his face, and whatever he finds there makes his expression twist. “Oh.”

Hugo bristles. “What?”

Varian is quiet. His lips press. The sudden focus of his gaze is gone—now he seems drained, almost tired. He pushes his hand back through his hair, and his gaze wanders to the ground, and then, absently, he says, “When I was fourteen, I almost killed my dad.”

Hugo opens his mouth. Hugo closes his mouth.

“I mean, I—didn’t. Obviously. But I… I mean, he should be dead, actually, laws of reason dictate, and I’m pretty now it was only magic that… but I didn’t know that at the time, so really my belief was more denial than sense, in hindsight? And I’m still not sure how to feel about that... anyway.” Varian presses his lips together, the ramble cutting short. His hand is tight on his sleeve—so tight his hands must be white-knuckled under the gloves, and all the color seems to have drained from his face. He looks—older, in this light, with this expression. He looks exhausted.

“I was angry,” Varian says, simply, when Hugo doesn’t respond. “Um. Very… very angry. And I hurt… a lot of people. Some of them I knew. Most I didn’t. And some…” His hands curl. “Never mind. It’s not important. I— told you I’ve been in prison before. Right? I mean, I’m pretty sure I mentioned it, like, once— anyway. Um. Three counts of attempted murder, high treason, kidnapping, attempted regicide, drugging a whole castle with truth serum without their consent, I could go on, but. You probably get the idea.”

Yeah, Hugo does get the idea. The idea is straight-up freaking unbelievable. What? He… he can’t even fathom that. He’s seen Varian angry, he knows Varian can be dangerous, but…

“I don’t understand,” he says, before he can stop himself, and Varian curls in on himself with a laugh that sounds very hollow.

“Yeah, I—I get that. I don’t know myself, really. Why I reacted that way. I’ve thought about it over and over, and I don’t… maybe it was one thing? Or maybe it was everything. My dad was gone. I was alone, I guess. And—and in the end, it just felt… like a betrayal. Like my friends, like my town, like everyone had turned their backs on me, on my dad. And I just… I couldn’t stand that.” He shakes his head, voice going small, murmuring. “Betrayal. Dark word, isn’t it? Never done well with being… well.” Varian laughs. It sounds forced. “Um. This is all speculation, anyway.”

Hugo says nothing. The ground feels very shaky, suddenly; he feels fever-hot and sick. “Oh,” he says. He realizes suddenly his hands are shaking, and tucks them in his pockets. The ground has fallen out beneath his feet; the pieces have clicked into place. He understands. He does. It’s the answer to a question he’d never been able to ask, and even though it's exactly what he expected, it still guts him whole. “…Oh.”

And he thinks: When this is over, you’ll never forgive me.

Varian laughs again. “Yeah,” he says, muted agreement. He draws his legs up close, criss-cross, and rests gloved hands on his ankles. “But… I guess, to answer your question... Even after all that, despite everything— someone still believed in me. Someone was willing to give me a chance. She—even though she had the most reason out of anyone to hate me… she still offered me her hand.”

Varian tilts his head. He meets Hugo’s eyes. He smiles. “That’s why,” he says. “I trusted you because someone once trusted me. And I was right, wasn’t I?” He shrugs. “I trust you now because you’ve earned it.”

Hugo’s mouth is dry. His throat aches. He wants, bizarrely, to scream. “…Right.” How stupid. So, so fucking stupid of him. He’d gotten his second chance months ago, without ever realizing, and he’d thrown it back in Varian’s face before he’d even really known him. So fucking stupid. His head spins. “Right.”

Varian nods. His eyes drift away again. “Sorry,” he says, absent-minded. “For dismissing the question before. I thought you were joking, at first.”

Hugo shakes his head, thrown. “I… it doesn’t matter, it—” He exhales, sharp. “Why… why did you tell me this?”

“It seemed important to you.” Varian looks at the ground, gaze distant, like those words aren’t yet another gut-punch. Important to you. Like easing Hugo’s fears are worth spilling secrets for, worth—whatever this is. Goddamn. Goddamn. And Varian smiles then, a halfway-smile, a wry crook of his mouth that creases at his eyes, and something in Hugo’s chest misses a beat. “And faith always matters.”

“And what if Nuru was right?” Hugo doesn’t know why he says it, and wants suddenly to slap himself. The fuck? But still: once again, he can’t stop himself from asking, from digging in the knife. “When she said I couldn’t be trusted. What if you’re wrong?”

“Nuru doesn’t say that anymore. What’s with you today?” Varian rolls his eyes, briefly, then turns and fixes Hugo with a smile, bright and blinding. “Besides. Am I wrong?”

And the worst part is—the absolute worst part—is that he says it dryly, says it sure, says it—like Varian knows, implicitly, that the answer is no.

Yes, Hugo thinks. “No,” he forces out, and smiles, and hates it.

“There you go.” Varian shrugs and turns back to his experiment, conversation over. Hugo stares at the back of his head. He feels sick. He feels dizzy. He feels like all the world has dropped at his feet, everything he’d never even known he wanted placed right in his hands—and the loss is sudden and sickening, because Hugo has already given this all away, handed it off long before he’d ever known what this treasure was worth.

Still. “Thanks,” Hugo says, through his teeth, and just barely manages to keep it from shaking.

And it’s terrible, all of it—the way Varian ducks his head, the way his shoulders curl, the way the other hides his smile against his arm like Hugo can’t see the gleam of his teeth in the dark, the gentle joy.

“Of course.”

Awful.

Hugo walks back to the fire. Yong is laughing at a joke. Nuru, once so suspicious, smiles up at him—then sees his face, and the smile falters. She frowns, suddenly, her brow furrowing. She says, “Hey, Hugo, are you okay?”

Never mind, she’d said earlier, all of Hugo’s secrets there before her to unravel. I want to trust you, Varian had said, months and months ago, offering his hand to a boy who’d already made the choice to betray them. Faith always matters.

Donella, smiling.

“Fine,” Hugo says, with a smile he doesn’t feel, but the truth beats behind his skull like a heartbeat, and behind his back his hands are shaking. He’s played himself into a corner—caring about these people, about Varian especially. Hugo, the greatest fucking fool of them all, wanting to live up to their expectations only now, when its already too damn late.

“Just fine,” Hugo says, and settles by the fire, Yong’s chatter and Nuru’s worried eyes and Varian’s distant humming—and closes his eyes to it all, holding his breath, as though if he stays still and quiet and careful he can stretch this moment out, keep this moment here, and make it so he doesn’t have to lose them at all.

#tangled the series #varian and the seven kingdoms #varian #hugo the human #varigo #varian/hugo #vat7k #varian and the seven kingdoms au #tts #rapunzel's tangled adventure #rta #tts fic #iza fanfic

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secrets-of-the-library · 3 years

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This is a fan-created personal home of Antonio Carriedo, the Hetalia personified nation of Spain. I did look up a few reference pictures but I mostly just took a few ideas I liked from them (A courtyard, a tower, certain design features, etc etc) but it is mostly ‘winged’ and ‘as I felt like it’. I’m not Spanish and I wasn’t aiming to do a 100% authentic or accurate build here. Just for fun. I like to imagine that he loves this huge mansion that he has built up over the years and there is TONS of plants and things to do to entertain not only himself but also guests, friends, and family. Like Arthur, he has his own personal office too. I can imagine Arthur complaining about his home being too big and spacious though lol.

Remember: This is fan/headcanon created. I build for fun and am not a professional. I do not build with the intention of having it livable/non-clashing. If something clashes it will be up to you to fix it because I build for the pure aesthetic and not functionality. I own a lot of packs so if you don’t own all the ones used in this there might be issues.

After the cut here I will provide a visual walk-through via screen captures. You’re more than welcome to download it and look at it for yourself. My username on Sims4 is Shinoshallbugyou.

This project in particular was HUGE, again, I like to do huge projects and mansions. Because of its size the ‘cut’ will be huge as well, keep that in mind. I’ll do my best to walk you guys through it but if you have the game and packs the easiest way would be to just download it yourself.

I chose Oasis Springs because of its desert surroundings. The only lot bigger than this one is park lots. I was tempted to do a ‘central courtyard’ and a house essentially wrapped around it but I chose this one instead. I like to pretend that his property actually extends down several paths on the cliff and to some stables, horses, and etc down below. I like to think the road leading to his house is more long and windy but the lot simply isn’t big enough for it so I compromised. I’ll be showing an occasional night-time photo of the building here and there but for the most part I’ll stay in ‘Afternoon’ because it’s the brightest to see in.

The overall look...

Now the overhead breakdown of each floor, overall...

Now for some shots around the outside in certain spots. I really liked the idea of a courtyard and I wanted to do that. I’m always a fan of driveways that go down to another level of the house. Please note, I am aware that the driveway would be too steep realistically but this lot is NOT big enough so I made do. While cars are not a thing in the Sims 4 (They were in 3) I still like to pretend and put them in there anyways even if the objects do not work. I wanted to try my hand at a lot more balconies and playing around with the outside of a house more as well as trying things I normally wouldn’t do like leaving a section on the roof uncovered or throwing in more gazebos (Or whatever). I especially liked the below photo of a wall that kind of comes out in increments? It looked neat!

The front door. We’ll explore the 1st floor now. I wanted a ‘rug’ that would descend down with the leveled steps/platform here. There wasn’t one like that so I created one. I often play around with things and use them in ways they wouldn’t have been normally used in the game: Such as upsizing that tiny toy horse into a ‘statue’ of a horse.

Next up: The Living room. I can imagine that he shoved in some things to entertain people with like Foosball and more. This area has a balcony too and a lot of areas on this floor open up directly outside to have airflow. Each area kind of has its own ‘major color’ to it. This area is more ‘orange’.

Downstairs here is where I decided to put a bar, storage for drinks (He’s a mass producer of wine, after all, and he likes to drink on top of it) as well as the garage for where the cars would go, etc. I usually improvise and take other objects to look like other objects. ‘Wine caskets’ don’t exist- Those are some weird metal object in the game that is a wall decoration.

Next up is the bottom of the tower connected to the living room. The tower is the tallest building on the map with it being four stories high. The bottom is connected to the living room and it contains a small changing/towel area (This could double up for the pool/hot tub) but mainly for the sauna I have installed in there (Because why not?). I also plugged in a bathroom with the remaining room there. Because it is such a small space it is hard to see.

The next room we’re going to is the opposing wing on the 1st floor, on the opposite side of the main entry room. There is a staircase that goes upstairs here but through the archways is a small reading nook. There are multiple ‘flowing corridors’ around this building, both internally and externally, that are very open for air and breezes.Often these will have a lot of seating and decor mainly on the way to other rooms. I went for more white/grey here.

Next up is the first guest bedroom. It is sandwiched between two of these flowing ‘corridors’ and it has its own personal bathroom. These spaces are big enough for people to stay in plus an additional seating area.

The next is that corridor on the other side that leads out onto an outside corridor as well as the courtyard. I tried often to get different decorations and objects going on in some of these rooms that would differ them from the other ones so it wouldn’t all just blend together into nothingness.

Next up is the courtyard. I had to have some kind of courtyard in here and I really liked how this one turned out with its nooks and crannies. It leads back towards the front door, back to where we came from, or to a wrap-around corridor that is only specifically on this side of the house.

Next up is that wrap-around outside corridor. The first one has a wall separating it from the front of the property. What follows it is what I filled that property with. I thought it would be neat to place what would’ve been an old ruin there that has long since faded away. I thought it would be a treat for the eye. I’ve never been able to use those weird rounded structures from the romantic garden pack before so I wanted to see how they would look here.

Now here is the other half of the wrap-around corridor but what makes this one so different is... Even though it is plain it doesn’t have a wall barricading you and thus you can walk outside with your sim more here. This corridor leads into the solarium.

The Solarium is two stories tall with the 2nd floor being hallowed out in the middle with a pathway surrounding it and a glass dome on top in a mock greenhouse effect. I wanted to play around with arches and I’ve always loved indoor gardens and such like these so I wanted to include it.

The Solarium branches out towards the ‘backyard’ where there is a pool, hot tub, karaoke, a fire pit, outdoor grilling area, and more. I really wanted to include this ‘gazebo’ effect not only for the look and aesthetic of it but also for potential ‘structural support’ for the 2nd floor balcony up there. Plus it ties in the same effect on the 3rd floor corridor up on top.

I forgot to get a picture of it but if you do an aerial view of the pool (Or perhaps basement level) I did add turtle decorations to the bottom of it. Tortugaaaa.

Here I’m going to show off the tower a bit. Please note: You can’t make rounded walls in the Sims 4. This is my closest attempt to being able to do that. I knew I wanted a tower and I’m happy with how it turned out. As I started it though it was trouble because I simply didn’t know what to do at first. I had no idea how to fill it and at first I was trying to put the staircase INSIDE rather than out. I finally got the idea for a wrap-around staircase which is also difficult given that they only make right angles. Putting them on the outside massively helped save on space inside. That and, actually, I had difficulty in general with stairs on this map. The awkward building spaces made it difficult to place them.

The overall look of the ‘backyard’ with roofs up.

The overall map layout of the 2nd floor with the stairs specifically outlined. I ended up giving up on trying to build another flight of stairs on the 2nd floor leading to the 3rd and settled for putting it, too, outside on the main back balcony. Out of everything on this map that was one of the most frustrating things that I struggled with. I don’t ever do outside stairs so this was interesting for me to try.

Next we’re going up the tower and coming into the pantry. It’s rather nice and big, he can grow stuff in there on hand to eat, a collection of fish, spices, oils, and etc is all in there.

The next up is the kitchen. This one was frustrating too but once it came together it was nice. I went out of my comfort zone here, too. I’ve never made a blue kitchen and while I loved the idea the Sims 4 pallet was NOT working with me. I even tried with yellow cabinets and it just wasn’t working. These cabinets were the best I could do which is rather unfortunate because I wanted older looking cabinets but... It’ll do. I accented it with white and it is very spacious for lots of company! This kitchen has its own balcony and small eating area out there too. While most would argue that the kitchen should go on the bottom floor I actually really liked it here specifically because of the panty, the additional balcony, and the large eating area on the back balcony too. That and the stairs into the main entryway are actually in here and near that front door so it isn’t as far as one would think.

If you look in the below photo, though you can barely see it... On the left countertop against the wall there is actually a ‘tea’ area. We ship spuk/engspa and so I like to think Antonio, while he does drink tea, doesn’t as much. He does have this little cute area for Arthur to make his tea at though. He himself has his own counter under a window where he stores all his coffee stuff. Also, while I’ve never done it before, I really like hiding the stairway with that china cabinet because it just changed the whole atmosphere of the room.

Below is a rather chunky corridor that I chose a ‘black and white’ tile scheme for. It really only serves as a point A to B type of thing. The kitchen is to the right, another corridor to the left, below is a balcony that overhangs the front entryway and the doors at the top of the image lead to a massive back balcony that serves as an outside dining area that I imagine Antonio actually prefers to eat in because of the views and especially when he hosts guests.

Next is the corridor to the left of that chunky middle section. This is a rather odd-shaped corridor that was one of the last things I put together because I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to do with it. I ended up having it being a seating area, a bathroom, a piano area, a small library area, and another seating area. It leads to another guest bedroom as well as the solarium/wrap-around-corridor on that side of the building, to continue the pattern from below. I went with a ‘yellow’ kind of theme here which is completely out of my element. Also, I realize that the lighting on the piano area looks out of place compared to the rest of it but I wanted it that way so that the piano had a spotlight feature.

Alright- The last ‘room’ on this floor. The second guest bedroom. This one doesn’t have its own personal bathroom (Just down the hall) but it does have its own balcony and it is bigger. I actually like this one more, I think.

Alright. This is the last main wrap-around corridor. It opens up and is not separated from the 2nd floor of the solarium. I decided to differentiate this one big time by introducing colored carpets and furniture to give it a fun touch. Also it does have a ‘hookah’ area lmao. The solarium part is alittle more boring but it does have activities for your sim to do such as painting, woodworking, and more. I figured it was a good spot to put misc hobbies since it is more out of the way of the usual social areas but has a great view and airspace.

Now for the last section of the 2nd floor: The main back balcony. This thing is huge and has a LOT of seating. I really like that big main dining table, the record player, and decorations. There is a stairway here that I put in, cutting through the roof, to get to the 3rd floor because I could‘t figure out how else to do it. I actually picture Antonio preferring to eat out here.

This is that stairwell with the 3rd floor cut off.

And here it is with the 3rd floor activated. It was a pain to get that to work but once I got it it worked just fine. I couldn’t figure out how to really connect the two separate buildings but then realized I could do an open-air corridor with no roof. That was DEFINITELY new for me and interesting to do!

With the roof on.

Next we’ll go to the office. I imagine that because he often shows up late (If even at all) and so he really utilizes this personal office and library a lot. It has its own personal bathroom, small kitchen, small records area, and eve a TV and fireplace near his desk. I often picture him trying to turn his desk around on the rug so that people on camera or on his zoom call won’t see his kitchen but I often see him forgetting to do that and so they just see a big microwave behind him lmao. Also I imagine, while the TV is helpful a lot for news and etc he is often distracted by soap operas, sports, and etc on it. Get to work, Antonio!

So we’re going to go back across that open-air corridor to the other wing and that is Antonio’s personal master bedroom and master bathroom. He has his own personal balcony that is colorful and relaxing.

First we’ll go into the master bathroom. I wanted a nice tub, plenty of space, more yellow accents... And I couldn’t figure out the shower and had to improvise. I actually put up stand-alone showerheads and nozzles into each of those pillars so he could take a really cool shower, if he wanted. I just didn’t want the shower to take away from the overall look of it and that seemed like the best option. Again, improvise, adapt, overcome.

Now for the final room on the 3rd floor: Antonio’s master bedroom. I went with ‘green for this’. It’s really cozy and colorful. I like to pretend that Arthur stitched those designs above his door and he hung them up because he loves them. Antonio also has a large walk-in closet/wardrobe that has been fitted onto the 3rd floor of this tower. I couldn’t get any good brown furniture to work so I shifted it to black in here. He’s a really fashionable guy and loves to care for his looks so it felt natural to make this his closet and area to get ready in.

From Antonio’s wardrobe... You have to use the stairs outside leading upstairs to the last and final room at the top of the tower and the 4th floor. It’s actually an attic/storage area and I often love putting these in the homes I build. I like to make them messy, cluttered, full of memories, and personal things to the person that lives specifically here. I always have a fun time trying to cram them full of stuff.

And with these last few pictures I wanted to show some of the scenery around in the area. It was a massive build and I’m glad I finally finished it at long last! Thanks for checking it out, it was a lot of hard work and time but I love it!

#the sims 4 #sims 4 creator #sims 4 build #hetalia #axis powers hetalia #aph spain #aph antonio fernandez carriedo #fan build

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of-sand-and-steel · 3 years

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republic city part i

okay this isn't REALLY a full explanation of the previous post but i do think the main reason* republic city is a terrible place to live for a lot of people is that some of the councilmembers vote on purpose to make it suck. hear me out:

*the following discussions are supported by subsequent comics canon but i absolutely don’t think bryke cared about anything more than the aesthetic of republic city at the time that lok was on the air lmao

(a) it's earth kingdom territory. king kuei may be fine with it after the events of the comics, but there are still a whole class of earth kingdom elites wondering why their land is now in the hands of a bunch of teens and twenty-somethings. of course the earth kingdom's appointed councilmember is going to be a quiet revanchist, making the united republic look as ungoverned and lawless as possible to spite them, as well as to provide pretext for taking the land back by force whenever the monarchy gets around to it. (we see some of this reasoning in the fight for earth kingdom succession in book 4 of lok, and kyoshi deals with similarly corrupt officials during her time as the avatar.)

(b) the northern water tribe leadership has a personal vendetta against katara and her family for just so many reasons, and the united republic is, more than anyone else's, sokka's pet project. (sure zuko and aang are why it exists in the first place, and the beifongs are the force behind its growth, but we see sokka in lok as the political face and chairman of the territory.) as revenge for his family preventing the north from colonizing/reabsorbing the south, their designated councilmember is there mostly to tarnish his family's reputation by making sure republic city looks like a savage, unattractive backwater—just like they pretend the southern water tribe is. (again we see VERY messy echoes of this reasoning in book 2 of lok, and it helps explain why the north is represented by just a blatantly shady crook in book 1 instead of literally anyone else.)

“but of-sand-and-steel,” you might say, “that’s only two of the five votes on the council. surely the other representatives would want republic city to be a shining beacon of international brotherhood!” well, unfortunately,

(c1) a case study: in “imbalance,” aang tries to shut down a factory that is poisoning the environment and upsetting the spirit of general old iron, but he is immediately shut down by the claim that the factory is a symbol of fire nation and earth kingdom cooperation. clearly, it’s more about wealth and exploiting the environment than international brotherhood, but the implications for the future of the city are thus: in decisions that make money for powerful families (e.g., the satos, the beifongs), people with good intentions can be bullied into supporting inequality and environmental destruction with claims of international cooperation. and when a good amount of the families benefiting are ethnically fire nation (thanks, colonialism!), it becomes easy to pry off that councilmember’s vote.

(c2) a corollary: meanwhile, you can see how easy it would be to block good laws if two councilmembers who happen to be acting in bad faith accuse the others of imposing different values onto the people who live there. propose a public school system? good luck agreeing on the curriculum. maybe you want to ensure children don’t go hungry? kinda problematic to have people with different cultural values decide what our families do with our kids. are you trying to make sure people have homes? to live in? that’s communist fire nation propaganda. haven’t you people done enough?

(d) gang violence in republic city exists because benders are an oppressed class, actually. this post is already too long for this particular hot take. i’ll make it later, if someone reminds me.

these are things i enjoy overthinking about, to be clear. it’s nowhere *near* necessary to care this much about the politics of a fictional city in a fictional universe where people have genetic superpowers and a twelve year old saves the world. but i think in a lot of ways, legend of korra was asking kids to think seriously about politics without thinking seriously about its own political vision. and as an adult with new knowledge it’s fun to engage in fandom to answer questions that i’m, again, positive the writers themselves did not care about in 2011 or whatever. so if you’re anything like me, i hope this post makes a little gear turn in your brain, and maybe you’ll start thinking about things and we can all have a niche, low-stakes discourse about it

#lok #lok meta #atla #atla meta #mine #aang #sokka #zuko #republic city #hc #i really sat here and thought about this post for over a week #this is literally so irrelevant to any part of my life or most of the fandom #but also like until my degrees start making me money i'm going to abuse my critical thinking skills for my own entertainment #oh also also #you may have noticed a part i up there #unfortunately i have additional thoughts that will probably come up later and i'm sorry in advance

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2seokfan · 4 years

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Scarlet & Hazel | Ch. 1

pairings: hoseok x reader x yoongi

genre: fluff, very light angst, smut (future)

word count: 3.6k

chapters: ch.1, ch.2, ch.3, ch.4

summary:

Just cause you’re living paycheck to paycheck in a tiny apartment even after graduating college doesn’t mean you’re not happy. So what if your best friend is working her dream job making close to six figures every year? So what if she’s in a loving, committed relationship with her perfect boyfriend that you’re 99% sure is going to propose to her sometime next year? It doesn’t matter that your idea of a perfect relationship is a $9.99 bottle of wine on Friday nights while you binge watch Netflix specials.

Ok so maybe you’re a teensy bit miserable. Maybe you have no idea what you’re doing with your life. Maybe all you need to do is accidentally cross paths with two hybrids who will drastically change that.

Meet “Scarlet” and “Hazel”, two of the most gorgeous hybrid men you have ever laid eyes on. With their help, you learn that life is an adventure, a rollercoaster with ups and downs, and you were too preoccupied with yourself to climb out of your own predicament. And hey, you’re not much of a romantic, but with these two, you just might change your mind.

note: Hi! This is my first fic ever! I don’t even know if anyone’s gonna read this but I’ve had this idea in my head for awhile so fuck it.

You kicked off your shoes and threw your purse on the couch.

“God my back hurts!”

Honestly with the amount of random bodily aches you experience on a daily business you could pass for being 70 years old. But this time you knew where the pain stemmed from. You just had to fall asleep awkwardly after a night on your phone. And of course today was a work day and you slept past all THREE of your alarms. But you know that feeling when you sleep for a suspiciously long amount of time and something doesn’t feel right? That’s the sixth sense that saved your ass this morning because your internal body clock was like sweetie I think you’re late.

You only had time to slap on some makeup, hoping it looked semi decent, and throw your greasy hair into a messy, but passable bun because no one wants to see an ugly receptionist. You had to skip your morning Starbucks drive-through routine because you’re about to be LATE, late so you grab your keys and start your car, booking it to work.

You work at a private hybrid clinic which pays a little better than most but that means you also have to deal with a lot of attitude from rich “owners” (you hate that word). And you sat weirdly at work today so that did nOThing to help your back pain. Also how come everybody decided to book an appointment today?? It’s Friday for god's sake why does everyone and their mothers decide it’s time to call the clinic and book a checkup. They get so mad at you when you say this whole month is filled. You can’t change the schedule though?? The calendar’s filled lady either get over it and settle for next month or fuck off (of course you don’t say that out loud cause you’ll get fired). Also someone yelled at you today because they didn’t like the magazine choices in the waiting room.

Anyways your day sucked and you couldn’t be happier being back in your tiny apartment to binge watch netflix stand-up comedies until you collapse. Well you say it’s your apartment but you actually have a roommate. She’s nothing like you though, she’s the epitome of responsibility. You agreed to live with her even though you met her through Craigslist because once you met her in person you deemed her genuine enough, and also found out she’s hardly ever at the apartment but she still pays rent on time?! You really hit the jackpot with her honestly. Cause you can be a little bit messy sometimes but even when she is home she never complains. The only negative side of having her as a roommate is that you never really had time to bond with her cause she’s so busy and over your league that even after a year you two still aren’t anything more than friendly acquaintances.

Alright time to get out of your work clothes and into nothing but your favorite oversized t-shirt with no pants on because that is what you deem home-appropriate attire. But before you turn on netflix your tummy is making “feed me” noises so it’s time to check the fridge. Damn no leftovers. Time to crack open one of those Trader Joe’s frozen meals you have stacked in the freezer. You blindly pick a box. Guess you’re having vegan tikka masala tonight. Not gonna lie though those frozen meals are actually not half bad. Or maybe you’ve been away from good home cooking for so long you’ve become desensitized? Who cares, you’re hungry. Also it’s Friday, so no harm in cracking open a bottle of wine right?

When you’re all settled on the couch with your favorite plush blanket on your legs, a random comedian on tv, and a full tummy, your mind drifts away. It’s Saturday tomorrow and you have the weekends off. Maybe you should do something fun for yourself to make up for the crap you had to deal with today. You text your best friend Karli. You know she’s awake since it’s only 10pm.

You: Hey girl wanna go to the beach or smth tmrw?? <3

Karli: Yaaas ok I don’t work!! What time?

You: and we can walk around all the fancy stores and get coffee from that place we love.

You: hmmm how bout meet there @11??

Karli: Sounds good sweetie want me to pick you up?

You: no its ok ill meet u there i need to buy groceries after

Karli: Kk love ya see you then!!!

You: love ya! night bby

Karli knows that when you say “go to the beach” you really mean walk along the beach and the nearby stores because it’s early June and prime tourist season. That means the sand is packed with people and their kids and the water’s probably filled with pee so you’re not really down for that. Also the expensive shops near the beach are so cute and you love walking around window shopping, pretending like you can actually afford any of the items on display.

The wine is now getting to you cause before you know it you find your eyelids getting heavy. You muster up your last ounce of strength to turn off the tv and force yourself out of the couch cause your poor back doesn’t need another excuse to keep hurting. As much as you don’t want to wash your face and brush your teeth, you have to because you don’t want makeup on your pillowcase tonight. And when you finally crawl into bed you knock out instantly.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

“Oh fuck…”

You forgot that drunk you last night set an alarm today for 9am. Thank you drunk Y/N.

Why 9am? Because you need to shower and get ready, plus the beach you’re going to is near the north part of the city, which is also the expensive part of the city, meaning it’s a LONG ways from where you live. But the stores are aesthetically pleasing and it contains both you and Karli’s favorite coffee shop so you’re willing to make the 25 minute drive. Karli doesn’t have to worry though because she lives a lot closer than you do. Girl has got her shit together. Honestly you’re just glad she decided to move back after graduate school cause the long distance friend thing sucks balls.

You hop in the shower and rinse yourself awake. The weather is perfect, warm but not too hot. Unlike many people who prefer to dress up for a nice outing, you’re just the opposite. You’ve been forced to dress in nice business attire with a full face of makeup all week. Hell no are you dressing up on your days off too. It’s a sweatpants and tank top kinda day so that’s exactly what you wear. Ever since college you’ve spoiled yourself into only wearing comfy clothes whenever you have the chance and it’s become a minor problem in your life. You have some perfectly nice jeans in the closet but you haven’t worn them in forever. And you’re not gonna wear them today either. And makeup? Who needs makeup? You’ll just go barefaced since you have no one to impress. Actually just kidding maybe a little concealer just to cover up a few rough spots but that’s IT. You’re still a little self conscious and you know you have to work on that but not today.

It’s now 10:15. You grab your purse from the couch, slip on your favorite pair of slides and head to your car. You’re the kind of person who absolutely needs music when you drive so you quickly start blasting your favorite playlist. Before you know it, you’re pulling up to the beach area. Parking is hard to find on the weekend but your lucky ass managed to squeeze into a street parking spot right as someone pulls out. You lock your car and make the trek to Cozy Coffeehouse, your favorite coffee shop hands down.

Karli is already here and she’s hopping up and down, waving at you. She looks super cute today in her little black dress and fishnets. She’s had the same taste since high school and you’re glad that even a Master’s degree hasn’t stopped her from dressing all punk on her days off. You jog over and give her a quick hug.

“Hey girl look at you!! You’re so cute!” You take in her makeup and you swear if she didn’t go the corporate route she definitely should have been a makeup artist. Her eyeshadow is amazing and you’ll never ever have the blending talent that she has, nor could you ever get your eyeliner to look that sharp.

“Aw thanks! You look comfy though I’m kinda jealous now maybe I should’ve dressed down.”

“No I love your outfits! Besides, someone has to look nice in this relationship.”

You link arms and march into the cafe. It’s located near the fancy designer stores on a large hill overlooking the beach. When you step inside the whole atmosphere screams ‘cozy’, fitting its name perfectly. The interior is littered with mismatched sofas and armchairs but it somehow still looks aesthetically pleasing. Soft piano jazz is playing through speakers and when you step inside the delicious scent of freshly ground coffee beans immediately invades your nostrils.

You glance at their pastry display first. Today must be your lucky day because they have tiramisu and you absolutely love tiramisu but it’s usually sold out. No way in hell are you letting this chance slide, fuck breakfast norms you’re definitely getting a bite of that. Unfortunately you’re not a fan of sugary treats on top of sugary drinks so to balance things out you choose to order their house brew.

After you two order, you find a spot in one of the plush armchairs near the window and sit. You really are lucky today since window seats are usually taken. But not this time! You guys get to enjoy the gorgeous scenery displayed before you. The sun is bright, people are laying on the beach tanning, and kids are splashing each other with water. For the first time in awhile, you feel content with life, if only for a bit.

Before long your orders are called out and you stand up to retrieve them. Once you’re settled, you break into conversation with Karli, eager to catch up on everything that happened since you two last spoke face-to-face. You talk about work, Karli’s boyfriend Sunny, that new pizza place that opened up near your apartment that actually has really shitty pizza.

“Like seriously how do you fuck up pizza that badly?” you exclaim in between generous bites of tiramisu.

“No I get you,” Karli responds, slurping her iced mocha frappuchino, “everybody knows what pizza is supposed to taste like, I mean it’s gotta take talent to actually fuck it up to the level you’re describing girl.”

“Exactly!!” You wave your arms in the air, wanting to physically demonstrate your frustration at the situation and your passion for good pizza.

“Anyways…” Karli gently sets her drink down and takes on a more serious tone. “How are you though, honestly.”

“Hmm, me?” You swallow your last bite of tiramisu, “I’m doing good. Works ok, life’s ok. You know. Everything’s… ok.”

“I get that everything’s ‘ok’ but you know I want you to be more than ok. I want you to be happy”

You see the genuine concern in her eyes. Bless this girl for being so soft-hearted.

She continues, “And when was the last time you dated? Like, what, 2 years ago??”

Of course she has to mention dating. Karli has always been a romantic. You? Not so much. Your brain tended to err on the logical, practical side, which is not always a good idea since it keeps you away from many potential relationships.

“I date!” You scoff, but you’re not convincing anybody, least of all yourself.

“Oh really?” Her eyes widen in mock surprise, “Tinder one night stands don’t count babe. You know what I mean.”

“Well you didn’t specify…” You mumble, trying to come up with any excuse to defend your pride. You know she’s just being a good friend and that she’s asking because she cares about you, so you don’t let her questions irritate you.

“Sweetie I’m not trying to make you feel bad and I’m sorry if it comes across that way. It’s just… you mean a lot to me and you’re my bestie and I just want to see you be happy.” She takes your hand from across the table and looks you in the eyes. “We don’t get to see each other as much as we used to, so when I do I want to check in on how you’re doing.”

Then she averts her eyes, which you find highly suspicious. “Also I may or may not have found someone who I KNOW will be a perfect match for you.”

“AHA I KNEW you were leading up to something!”

“Wait but hear me out. He’s an accountant and at first I was like hmmm is he too boring for Y/N? But then I realized I was judging him by his job and that’s not cool so I talked to him and he’s, like, actually super cute and super sweet and I think you two will get along so well!” She’s speaking very fast at this point, trying to squeeze out as much information as possible before you can interject. Then she finishes with one of her signature Karli smiles, big and wide and all teeth and she knows you can’t say no to that face.

“Dammit. Fine.” You lost this round. “Alright if he wants to meet up I won’t say no. How bout that?”

“Gee that’s so thoughtful of you Y/N.” Her tone is sarcastic but she’s still smiling so you know she means no harm.

After another half hour of conversation, locked in a heated debate about food again (this time she’s defending her stance that pineapple belongs on pizza), Karli’s phone rings. The sound scares the poor girl half to death, and watching her jump a mile from her couch had you snorting into your coffee mid drink.

She looks at the caller ID, muttering under her breath, “It’s Saturday what do they want?” then glances up with a sad little pout, “Sorry Y/N it’s work gimme a sec…”

From what you can hear on her side of the conversation, something has come up and she has to head to the office right away.

“Ok I’ll be there in fifteen,” she hangs up and gives an exaggerated “Ughhhhh”. She takes one large gulp, finishing the last of her ultra sweet, ultra whipped frappuccino. “It’s like they can’t do anything when I’m not there.” She looks especially apologetic when her eyes land back on you, “I’m so sorry I have to cut this short…”

“Hey it’s ok! Duty calls ya know,” you give her a reassuring grin, hoping it passes for a smile instead of a grimace. You were really hoping to hang out today.

“No it’s not ok. We didn’t even get to walk around today! And I know how much you like to do that.” She stands up, slipping her purse onto her shoulder, “so next time I’ll plan a day where I guarantee I won’t get interrupted. It’s the least I can do.”

“Mk sounds good babe,” you give her a big hug, “Go get ‘em tiger!”

After she exits the cafe you finish the last bit of your coffee and glance out the window, staring at the people on the beach. Wow it’s really crowded down there today. You zone in on two kids attempting to build a sandcastle, but it’s too close to the water so the waves flatten it in two seconds. But it seems they didn’t learn their lesson because they keep rebuilding the castle in the same spot. Just move it further up little dudes.

You find yourself lost in thought again. Just because Karli’s suddenly busy doesn’t mean you don’t still have a whole day to yourself. You can walk around on your own. Also why not treat yourself to another drink? A fun one this time from their specials menu.

Ten minutes later you find yourself wandering around the various shops, hot hazelnut latte in hand, gazing at display after display of designer clothes and bags. Look, you may not be a huge fashion person, or have any expendable cash, but a girl can still appreciate art, especially when it’s laid out so nicely in front of you.

Speaking of art, there’s an art gallery coming up that you absolutely love. You’ve always been too afraid to go inside because you’re the type of person who feels obligated to buy something if you enter a local store and you DEFinitely can’t afford anything there. So you opt to loiter outside, like some creep, looking a little too long at the featured art through the window. This time it’s an Impressionist style painting of a ship on hazy waters with a sunset in the background. You’re no artist but you can appreciate good quality work when you see it. The piece is mesmerizing and serene, transfixing you to the spot. Before you know it, you’ve been staring for 15 whole minutes.

While admiring the artist’s use of color on the display piece, you overhear a lady raising her voice not too far away, snapping you out of your trance. It sounds like drama, so being the nosy bitch that you are, you’re definitely gonna check it out, if only to satisfy your curiosity.

“What do you mean ‘no’?! You’ll be perfect for each other!! Where’s your owner I bet he’ll listen!” At this point the lady’s voice is sounding downright aggressive.

As you shuffle closer to the scene of the noise, you spot a middle-aged, blonde lady pointing her finger at two hybrid men, almost jabbing one of them in the chest with her sharp, ruby nails. Behind her stands a gorgeous female arctic fox hybrid who clearly belongs to her as she pats her owner’s shoulders, trying to calm her down.

“I’m sorry miss but we just aren’t interested.” The taller of the two hybrids with orange hair speaks up, gently pushing the lady’s hands away. “Please leave us alone.” He’s being surprisingly calm, even after getting yelled at in public.

“Yeah lady get out of our faces,” the other white and grey haired hybrid is definitely more agitated, crossing his arms as he huffs in annoyance. You don’t blame him since the blonde lady is being ridiculously rude.

You can’t really make out the two males’ faces, since they’re turned away from you, but they are obviously hybrids. Both having incredibly bushy, soft-looking tails and tall, pointy ears sticking out of their heads.

Even if you can’t see their expressions, you can tell they’re uncomfortable with the harassment. Since you’re still somewhat unaware of the context, you stay out of the argument but decide to keep an eye on the situation in case the lady steps out of line. You’re just slightly around the corner, able to stay a safe distance away so that no one, especially the lady, can catch you eavesdropping. Pretending to admire the Gucci purses displayed in front of the shop you’re now standing at, and almost choking at the price, you cautiously side-eye blondie as she refuses to back down from the hybrid boys.

“Listen here you rude little pets, I’m not leaving you alone until I see your owner. My Sylvia here,” she gestures to the fox hybrid behind her, “would make a perfect partner for you.” She pokes the orange haired hybrid again, “I’ve been searching so long for her to find a mate and I’m not giving you up! Now where the hell is your owner!”

What the fuck?! How dare this lady talk to them like that? And in public no less! You now know exactly why she’s yelling at them. Working at a private hybrid clinic has opened your eyes to the harsh world of hybrids, and their selfish, rich owners. It’s not uncommon for owners to negotiate with each other and breed their hybrids. If two pretty hybrids mate, their children can be sold for loads of money. It's cruel and disgusting, with many of the children sold off before they can even get to know their parents. You’re all too familiar with this tradition, often catching owners in the waiting room of your clinic discussing in whispers about buying and selling hybrid children as if they’re livestock.

“Hey what the fuck did you call us?!” The white and grey hybrid is now also raising his voice. “Listen you wrinkly bi…!” He is quickly silenced by the orange hybrid, who abruptly clamps his hand over his buddy’s mouth.

Orange hair clears his throat. “What he means is, we don’t appreciate the tone you’re using with us. Please leave us alone ma’am. We’ll be on our way. Goodbye.” They attempt to brush past her.

“Hey hold on a minute! I’m not done with you!!” This lady even has the balls to grab onto orange hair’s arm. “I demand to speak to your owner!” Then some sort of realization dawns upon her because her eyes go wide, then quickly narrow. “And where are your collars? Aren’t owned hybrids supposed to have collars on? You know I just might have to call Hybrid Services.”

You can see the boys visibly tense at her words as she sports a satisfied smirk. Poor Sylvia is now gently tugging on her shirt. “Please calm down, miss…” she says desperately trying to remedy the situation.

Before you know it, and without any plan of action, you round the corner and march up to the boys, standing defensively in front of them.

“Um…” You gulp, then clear your throat, speaking in what you hope is a more confident tone. “Sorry I took so long guys! You wouldn’t believe the line at the coffee shop!”

#bts fic #bts hybrid au #hoseok fanfic #yoongi fanfic #bts smut #bts fluff #bts fanfction #hybrid hoseok #hybrid yoongi #bts hybrid fic

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ktheist · 4 years

Text

an empire of lies | kth

muses. ability type!taehyung x heir!reader

synopsis. taehyung usually comes knocking on your window - yes, window - at something a.m. every once in awhile. it’s the closest you get to being that girl whose crush throws pebbles on her bedroom window and serenades her with a song played on his guitar.

except taehyung comes around to rummage your fridge and free load for a couple days before disappearing like the thin air that always seem to blow when he’s around.

oh, and your apartment is on the 19th floor.

words. 2k

note. this is a spinoff drabble from my partially written draft. can be read as a standalone!

“why are you covered in blood?” you ask, curiosity no longer being a distant concept after knowing the man for almost a decade now. the gust of wind that always seem to be around the corner whenever he pops up in front of you, now greets you in a burst. forcing your eyes to flutter shut from its force.

the saint laurent article that you would usually see on him, is missing. instead he tears the tubes prodded deep inside his veins, the once pristine white hospital gown now marred with crimson blood, joining them on your recently mopped floor a second later.

“it’s not mine.” he says simply. if you were younger and didn’t know any better, you would have freaked out. scenarios would have filled your brain and made you consider calling the police on this inhumanly attractive man that’s walking around in your kitchen, half-naked with his pants hung low around his hips.

a sigh escapes you as you pick up his discarded items, tossing them in the trashcan next to the counter before bumping him with your hip as you tell him to move away from inspecting the content of the fridge, “this is the last time i’m cooking for your free loading ass.”

you don’t miss the way taehyung nods and walks away instead of shooting you one of his boyish grins and showering you with empty compliments for being such a good host.

“it’s more like feeding a stray dog that comes around every once in awhile.” you would remark whenever praised you for your kindness. just to set a line and ground yourself to the fact that this tall and handsome as hell man is only here because your late grandmothers happened to be best friends.

“you got any beer?” he asks some time after a passing of silence and the first sizzle of the pan.

to say you’re surprised is an understatement - you spend a good one minute staring at taehyung’s tanned back, marred with scars he’d never talk about, as he pries your cupboard open one after another.

if there’s anything kim taehyung is, it’s wine, high designer fashion and everything along the refined way of living. and the beverage he’s asking for couldn’t have been so far shoved on the other end of the spectrum.

but you know not to mention that - not right now when he looks like he just came from a hunt. who and what, you’re fine not knowing.

“i can make a quick trip to the grocery store and see if they have some.” you offer, but quickly add, “i’m running low on strawberry milk anyway.”

just so you wouldn’t come off as going the extra mile for him. which is something you never usually do. but taehyung’s lack of smile is neither an unusual sight.

the aforementioned man lets out a noise, something like a chuckle that gets blocked by a tired sigh, “you and your strawberry milk - you do know they didn’t add real strawberries, right?”

you shoot him an accusatory look, “do you also go around telling kids that santa doesn’t exist?”

his shoulder line shakes as he chuckles - a real, actual one this time. hands held up in surrender, “don’t shoot the messenger.”

“well, the messenger better sit the fuck down or i’m turning off the stove and you’re left with half boiled pasta and half cooked salsa.” you huff, going back to adding a half cup of cilantro.

his “yes, ma’am” is a tad dull, obscured by the dark clouds hovering over his eyes yet not so much in need of a cut.

with that, you see him shuffle out of your periphery. seconds later, the squeaky sound of the chair hits the air, sticking out like a sore thumb against the fine sizzle of the salsa.

“you really need to get this chair fixed,” he comments, but you bet your memories of your grandmother that if you’d turned around, you’d see him sitting on the same chair he criticized while there are possible two more good ones on either side, “better yet, buy a new one.”

“if i buy a new one, i’ll have to buy the whole set otherwise it’ll look awkward as hell and ruins the aesthetic.” you shrug, as in to say, oh well, it’s a squeaky chair but it’s my squeaky chair. and apparently, taehyung likes that chair too.

silence lapsed between you while you cook - you don’t know what taehyung is doing to fill in those fifteen minutes until you finally plated a pasta for a serving of two, when you turn around, however, you don’t expect the sight before you.

the man has his arms folded over the counter, head propped over. his eyelashes flutter just the slightest bit from the movements of his eyes behind their lids. probably dreaming.

you set the plate a few inches away from him just so he wouldn’t end up dipping his hand into it out of surprise when you go around the counter to tap his shoulder, “taehyung?”

but your palm never touched his skin. instead, you find yourself staring at a pair of mesmerizing brown eyes. never mind the much larger hand wrapped around your wrist midair - you can barely feel it as you fall down down the rabbit hole and into his never seemingly ending gaze.

it’s in that moment that your phone rings, bringing you back to the reality of it all - that though taehyung makes himself approachable and puts on a friendly facade, at the end of the day, he comes and goes like the winds blowing through cities.

“so you weren’t sleeping.” you find yourself asserting, pulling your hand back as though his touch is molten lava, “eat up. i’ll get you some fresh clothes - well, they’re yours from the occasions you actually remember to bring a spare.”

but just before you get to take any step forward after turning your back on him, a pair of muscled arms wrap around you, holding you tight yet tenderly. like a glass case around a plucked rose.

his breath is hot against your neck, his head leaning on your shoulder. even when he’s sitting, he still manages to make you feel like a child. short. tiny. defenseless.

he’s everything your mother, a strong woman who raised you until the age of ten before her untimely death - your grandmother never said it, but you knew your mother didn’t die in her sleep, had told you to run away at first sight.

“never, never meddle with classes, ___ - promise me you’ll live a normal life, like a human.” at the time, you thought she meant the people adorned with golds and diamonds with a whole lot of money to spend and a lack of cause to spend it on. you thought those people had lost their humanity along the line as they chased for fame and wealth.

it isn’t until you met taehyung - the boy whose eyes were always drawn to the clouds and on one fine day, got lifted off the air, up to the tree to save your cat and bring it down to you with a silly grin - that you realized she meant those people. the ability types.

taehyung doesn’t say it, but you suspect he’s at least a second class.

“i really missed you.”

you couldn’t believe your ears. not after the still silence that follows suit. as though he didn’t say anything. as though your mind was playing tricks on you.

“what happened out there?” the question finally hits the air, not sharp enough to cut poke or even hurt the elephant in the room, but loud enough to be heard, “what happened to you?”

you tumble a step back as taehyung pulls you closer until his thighs encase your hips and arms wrap around you too perfectly, “i can’t tell you - i promised granny cheong i won’t rope you into this - not when you have a real chance to live a normal life.”

your shoulder line stiffens at the mention of your grandmother - the image of a fifteen year old taehyung by her deathbed and the subtle sound of her telling him something, floods your mind. it was then, you were so sure - she made him promise to leave you alone just like she knew she was about to that night.

on nights you stayed back at the office, you still wonder why she’d deliberately made sure the only other closest person you had to a family, left you too.

now, you don’t know what you and taehyung are.

your hand covers his arm that’s banded around your tummy, noticing the slight tremble in his bones. heart racing, mind making up a million scenarios for what you’re about to say.

he could recoil - he could leave you like he did right after you graduated high school. and this time you might not see him again but something inside you writhes with a desire that you’ve pushed to the very pit of your stomach all these years but if you don’t say it now, if you let taehyung leave this place and disappear for another six month-

“what if i don’t want a normal life? what if i want to be with you? classes or not.”

he doesn’t say anything. doesn’t pull away like you’re a made of fire either. yet your heart seem to palpitate faster than before.

“should we run away? just the two of us?” his voice is oddly calming - that’s how you know he’s only entertaining you for the sake of not offending you.

“stop that.” you force out despite the lump in your throat.

“stop what?” and he still chooses to pretend like everything’s fine.

“don’t tell me you’ll run away with me and let me wake up to an empty bed in the morning-” your breath falls short, “-that’s too cruel, taehyung.”

he doesn’t say anything for the longest moment. and within that moment, your thoughts run rampant. and you actually thought, for one sweet second, that he would tell you he means it. that he’ll leave everything - whatever shit he’s in - and hop on the plane with you to wherever land.

“i have to settle something first.”

the first scoff hits the air like vapor against heat, “there’s always something - just... just let me go, taehyung.”

you push his hands off you, not caring if he wanted to take refuge here or if he’ll leave. all you know if your car keys are in the bowl next to the door and you own a whole building in case push comes to shove and you end up without a home. well, your home will still be here but taehyung won’t by the time you return.

or so you’d planned.

but nothing ever seem to go your way. not since your mother brought you to tokyo and raised you there only to leave you and have an elderly woman show up at the orphanage that you spent a week at and claimed that she was your grandmother.

not since that grandmother raised you with the boy who had the brightest smile and left you with a scar so deep, you’re never really the same again.

as soon as taehyung’s warm arms releases you, the sudden chill of the something a.m. breeze engulfs you. but it is short lived as you find yourself staring at the man who spun you around with one hand and a another on your back, pulling you flush against his body.

you hate yourself for melting into him like an ice cream on a bright summer day.

all of a sudden, you’re both 11 and trekking down your grandmother’s backyard that makes up a whole private forest reserve.

“it’s always been you.” his voice trembles. as though he’s a push away from falling into pieces, “everything i did - it was to make sure they won’t touch you.”

“t-the organization?” it’s purely reflex - you know who they are. the causes of the deaths in your lives. timely or not. “why would they want to have anything to do with me? don’t they hate me? because i’m ordinary?”

the chin resting on your head shifts as he shakes his head, arms encompassing you so tightly, it’s almost hard to inhale and yet breathing isn’t a priority at the moment, “it’s in your blood - you may be ordinary but you were born from a long line of first classes. they can’t rule out the possibility of your kids being ability types - maybe even zero’s.”

“taehyung,” your hand clenches into a fist over the area of his chest where his heart palpitates underneath. his gaze pierces into your soul when you crane your neck to look at him - he always felt like a fresh air and open meadows.

until now.

now, it feels like you’re trapped in the heart of the hurricane. whirling and writhing in a vortex of emotions you’ve never allowed yourself to be acquainted to before.

“what exactly did you promise grandma?”

it’s the way his eyes shake and brows twitch even though his face remains neutral - unmarred by the creases of tension that no doubt graces your own features.

the only indication that he’s reluctant to respond is the pressing of his lips together before he breathes out the softest sigh. as though bracing himself. but his voice has never been so sure.

“i promise i’d kill you myself if they ever approached you.”

#bts smut #taehyung smut #bts scenarios #bts fic #networkbangtan #taehyung scenarios #taehyung fics #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts #taehyung #kim taehyung #kim taehyung smut #excerpt from a fic i’ll never write

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officialinuyasha · 4 years

Text

Yashahime Trailer Analysis - Full Breakdown + Theories

Video -

https://youtu.be/ebFV15yPO6U

The Yashahime - Princess Half-Demon Official Trailer came out August 7th Japan Time like Kaoru Wada had teased for us on the Otakon Livestream. Here we will read off of what was posted on the VIZ Media Official Website "The anime’s been announced, but now you can sink your canines into some more juicy tidbits about the show. The anime stars Towa and Setsuna, the twin daughters of Sesshomaru who get separated in a forest fire. Towa ends up in modern times and is raised by Sota Higurashi, Kagome’s little brother. Ten years later, they are reunited, but Setsuna is a demon slayer with no memories of her sister. Joined by Moroha, Inuyasha and Kagome’s daughter, they set off on an adventure to regain their missing past." https://www.viz.com/blog/posts/yashahime-princess-half-demon-arrives-in-october You guys will be able to watch Yashahime on VIZ Media's Website and AnimeLab.com when it's released.

First Impressions - @officialkagome : “I can tell the Rumiko has a lot of influence in the writing because key points and moments are conveyed just as they were in the Final Act. I believe it's going to be condensed like in the Final Act, but maybe only at first. Focusing on the girls but still including that bonus chapter. I definitely appreciate the animation, it's very aesthetically pleasing.”

Yes, the animation is being directed by the same person who did The Final Act, Sachiya. They also were the same person that did the Adult SessRin artwork that sold it on a calender. Which I actually own. I'm glad for them to return and do the animation. As it makes sense in the continuity. The animation in fact looks even improved further than what we had since the Final Act! Definitely one of my favorite animation directors next to Kumiko.

As I mentioned in my previous video, I talked about the extra chapter "Since Then" that took place after The Final Act. It was made because of the Tsunami that happened in Japan many years ago. A long time ago, I also wrote a post saying if we continued to show our support for the official streams on VIZ Media's website and still showed interest in the series that they would make this into an episode. Back in 2018 Anime Boston it was hinted about the staff wanting to have Rumiko allowed them to make more anime if we continued to show interest. When we got ahold of the scans for the AniMage and AniMedia magazine scans we could confirm that they have been talking about a sequel since the ending of The Final Act.

In the InuYasha Special Chapter 559 "Since Then" Kagome was living in the feudal era with InuYasha for six months. We have a half year time skip. Life in the Feudal Era so far had been peaceful. InuYasha and Miroku were tracking minor youkai that was released from a seal by a landslide, and discover that the demon actually was originally sealed away by Kikyou shortly before she met InuYasha. So we can say over atleast 53 years ago. The youkai is called Ne no Kubi or Root Head in the official VIZ Media subtitles for the trailer - and it was seeking the Shikon no Tama, not realizing it is already destroyed due to being sealed away for so long. Ne no Kubi attacks Kagome, because she clearly looks like Kikyou, but she wounds its head with a sacred arrow and InuYasha kills it with Tessaiga. During it Sesshoumaru appears to protect the village because Rin is there. We can see shots during the trailer that all take place here from this chapter.

For all those Westerners out their that use the term "canon", yes Yashahime is in Fact "canon" to the original timeline continuity. Rumiko Takahashi has been confirmed to have written the foundation story for Yashahime, and has been working closely over the scripts with Sumisawa. It is officially licensed and in no where near being a fanfiction. Remember, canon was a term that was invented by Westeners because of Christianity. Regardless, this sequel is happening. I have so much to talk about this new trailer that it feels like even after I'm done with this video, more ideas are still going to keep popping up in my head.

Towa is seen fighting another school student. She's known for her martial arts. She kicks this guy in the head. She says "You know, you should take my advice and let me go." Talking about her possible abduction. "Things won't be so hot when my friends get here." I think she's talking to the man in the Feudal Era from the first trailer. That's when Moroha and Setsuna break into save Towa. Then it's talking about Root Head from Chapter 559. However says "Root Head was a demon slain by InuYasha and his friends." I don't know if she's talking after it was slain. But Root Head was in fact originally sealed by Kikyou before she met InuYasha. A possible change or retcon from the Manga considering Rumiko's involvement in this. Sesshoumaru is then saying the same lines that he says from the manga "Root head... A worthless piece of vermin. Except..." If we reference the manga he's actually supposed to say Except, and then "It's too persistent."

Root Head gained the powers of the Tree of Ages (Goshinboku). This is the same Goshiboku that InuYasha was sealed on, seeing the arrow mark. If we slow down this footage you can tell that Roothead is growing in the roots of the Goshinboku. It created a passage from the Feudal Era to present day. Sucked through that passage, Towa was torn from her twin sister, Setsuna, and thrown into the present day.

But I think that is talking about AFTER Root head was slain again from it reawakening after the landslide. My guess is that IF everything does continue on the manga like normal from Chapter 559. But during the time it was reawakened it had already made a portal through a tree tunnel like it describes as in Towa's translated description that a fire happens, and everyone scatters. Even during the livestream from Otakon Kaoru Wada mentioned the fire. Towa goes to escape from the fire and finds that specific portal that sends her to the modern era. Unless they want to push the time skip further than 6 months allowing them time to have the kids. Towa is in Reiwa period, that means it's either 2019 or further making it overall a 20 year time skip since chapter 559. I expect that they have kids in a six year time skip that would make sense since they are all 14. The Tree tunnel is described in Towa's description, that means that we pretty much have a second Well. Considering the well was already made from the same type of wood as the Goshinboku was as it was talked about in the first movie. Now imagine if we had three different eras or even that certain events had changed because of this.

Here we see an Adult Souta and 4 year old Towa when he found her in the Modern Era. They're talking in front of the Sacred Tree. Towa's robe pattern is clearly based on Sesshoumaru's belt.

It looks like Souta wanted to pat Towa on the head, but Towa was scared - Then we see Towa brushing her teeth and Souta's daughter. Who looks strikingly similiar to Hitomi. I hope he married her.

Ten years have passed since the Higurashi family took Towa in. It shows Towa talking to Souta's Daughter in front of the tree. In the next shot, she's wiping the blade from her sword. In the narration Towa says "Don't worry! I can handle this." It shows Towa looking up from the original Trailer, where she's abducted. Wearing that patterned robe and the hint of the Lily flowers in the background. She says "Your big sister's pretty strong!" I think she's talking to Souta's daughter as if referencing herself. She picks up her History book and winks. Now it shows Setsuna and Moroha fighting by a waterfall. This is definitely reminding me of some InuYasha VS Sesshoumaru scenes from the past. "My name is Setsuna. I have nothing more to tell you..." "And the reason you die here." Setsuna's eye glows similar to InuYasha's when they found out he had the black pearl inside his right eye that lead to the Inu no Taishou's grave. Everyone has been trying to figure out if there is a special thing showing in her eye. I'm not so sure but I gave it a try as well. I looked at a few pictures of the gravesite and this one seemed to be the best one.

Though I am skeptical of this. Hosenki's son explained it would take roughly 100 years for him to master the process of making one. When InuYasha had returned to his father's grave for the second time, the pearl was somehow able to give him visions of his troubled past as a way to warn him that he wasn't supposed to be there a second time. Now if we think about it, remember how Setsuna has problems with her memories? Maybe in this moment it is a black pearl, and it's showing her flashbacks helping her remember or perhaps she was given an imperfect black pearl that is causing her memory loss.

Moroha is seen sitting down picking her ear. "With this rouge, I become Beniyasha, Destroyer of Lands!" Moroha has her bow, a good nod to her mother Kagome. "Tremble before the bloodthirstydawn!" Now the rouge doesn't always have to mean lipstick, it depends on the context on which it's taken. The rouge could also mean red, the red clothing that she's wearing. If she is going to be wearing lipstick, it would be cool if they somehow were able to magically bring back the lipstick that was once Izayoi's that was given to Kikyou. I know it was destroyed, but you never know. I like the idea of her having InuYasha and Kagome's locket too from the second movie. In the past I always had the idea of their child having that locket. Maybe she's heard about InuYasha as a story or legend, and is calling him "Beniyasha". So she's pretending to be him in a way, along with the bow on her head representing ears like him.

It shows Towa in the modern era, fighting some guys. She's wearing something on trapped onto her back. Could it be her sword, or something else? My wife mentioned that in Japan, open carry of swords is legal. So I went to double check.

Yes, this is definitely got to be her sword and that she is wearing a sword bag. It has yellow tassels.

I also noticed that there is a symbol at the bottom of her sword bag. It looks like it could be a pinwheel or the Kagome symbol. There are two different versions of the Kagome symbol. 6 pointed and 8 pointed.

"A new wind blows into the Feudal Era." We can see the Dragon symbol on Moroha's sword even more closely. The Dragon is wrapped around an arrow. During the Otakon Live stream Kaoru Wada stated that all three of the girls are the half-demon princesses. Meaning that Moroha would still be called a half-demon regardless of having less demon blood percentage especially during that era. "The Half Demon Princesses are here!" Moroha is fighting a Mistress Centipede. Is this the same Mistress Centipede from the beginning of InuYasha, that corpse was already in the well? If we remember, Sango has fought Centipede demons before but they weren't a Mistress Centipede. She would be killed for the third time. The Mistress Centipede shown in the trailer has three eyes, while the original one has two.

It shows Hisui, Sango and Miroku's son in his demon slayer armor while riding Kirara. Throwing Hiraikotsu! One thing that stood out to me was the prayer beads around his left arm.

I don't think he has Wind Tunnel but it seems to be a reference to his father Miroku. Considering Miroku has given Kagome prayer beads to wear before. Maybe even Hisui has spiritual powers as well. It also appears that he has Sango's sword as well!

Kohaku, all grown up and he's exactly how I imagined him. It seems like he has a scar on his nose. Maybe it's from wearing his demon slayer mask or from getting cut in a battle. He has the weapon he gets from Toutousai in the last episode of the Final Act. Moroha and Setsuna are battling. Could this be the same waterfall that Kikyou bathed at?

Moroha and Setsuna running off, Towa watching them. A guy knocked out in the background, Spider Lily pattern on the backwall, and a knocked out guy next to where the wall was bashed in. Just like how it was in the first trailer we were shown on the Otakon Live Stream.

Finally, Moroha is using her bow and yes she indeed has priestess spiritual powers like Kagome does! It looks like she's still fighting Mistress Centipede as you can see in the background. The attack is called "Heavenly Arrow Barrage". Similar name to InuYasha's Adamant Barrage.

It shows Setsuna using her Naginata. The Naginata is the weapon that can control wind as stated in her profile when her colors were announced! Much like InuYasha's Bakuryuha, or Kouga's Cyclone. It also reminds me of Sesshoumaru when he was fighting InuYasha inside the Black Pearl at the Inu No Taishou's Grave.

Feudal Fairytale - Yashahime Princess Half-Demon Towa takes out her sword and charges while saying "Setsuna! I'll save you!" Yashahime - Coming this October. October 3rd 2020

When we look at the image that came with the announcement. A few things caught my eye, Kagome and Rin are not seen in the picture. Sesshoumaru and InuYasha are both by the Sacred Tree. Speculating that maybe they're trapped in another dimension, or between times since Root Head was able to take the Goshinboku's power. I wonder if something like this happens, could this give Kagome the ability to not age? I'm still for my theory that she shouldn't age because she wasn't born yet, the same way her items were unaffected by Kaguya in the second movie when she froze time. People think InuYasha is holding something, no that is his forelocks and the shading on the tree. No, there is no secret image in Towa's blue sword attack. But hey we get a better look at Hisui's prayer beads on his arm.

There is a new character, everyone speculates to be Shippou and unsure of the character's gender. Looking at the HD picture.

The character has green eyes, dark red hair and purple eyeshadow. It sort of reminds me of Shippou or Ayame's possible child with Kouga. I would have said it was Takechiyo in a human form since Raccoons and Foxes are known to shape shift. But Takechiyo has blue eyes. It's not Jinenji, has blue eyes - Though I think it could be a new character. Could be boy or girl. Determining their gender is something I'm on the fence about atleast by the physical sight of it. Their body seems flat and rugged with torn sleeves, but wearing makeup. There's alot of males who wear makeup in InuYasha. Their attire also seems to be the kind that is most commonly worn by males. But Towa also is another character that dresses male. This character clearly has a weapon. More than likely a sword. Something that's interesting about this picture is that Towa's sword is shaped like Tessaiga in the picture when she's doing her special attack. It zig zags upward like a staircase into the sky - as if representing time passed. You notice it when you realize the other characters are actually not standing on something.

Seems like we are all looking forward to October 3rd for the airing of Yashahime. If you want to see more posts about Official InuYasha News, Artworks, Merchandise, my own personal views and analysis on the series - Be sure to subscribe.

#inuyasha #yashahime #anime #manga #hanyou no yashahime #yashahime princess half demon

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virgilantejustice · 3 years

Text

A Winter’s Journey

Hi @turbovickiii!!!! I really hope you like this, your prompts really helped me get out of a rut, and I just really hope you enjoy this. And, of course, a merry Christmas!!

I don't believe I need to add any warnings, but let me know if I'm wrong.

@sanderssidesgiftxchange

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The air was cold. Spitefully cold. Far colder than it needed to be.

Roman muttered to himself as he trudged through the full six inches of snow that covered the path to the cabin. Spitefully cold.

Why on earth they had decided to rent a cabin for Christmas was beyond him. It had been his idea of course, but that doesn't mean that the others should have /listened. Why didn't one of them point out that his car could break down halfway down the several mile long track through the middle of nowhere slap bang in the middle of a snowstorm?! Obviously that was going to happen!

But, Roman would be damned if he didnt make it to that damn cabin, even if he had to walk the four miles left. Again, an absolutely terrible idea, but Roman never was the logical one, and Logan was waiting for him there, and he couldn't wait to hear his beloved tell him what a total idiot he'd been.

Arms crossed firmly across his chest, teeth chattering, feet numb in their snow filled boots, Roman marched with a stony expression of (slightly exaggerated) grimness. He did think at one point that he should probably make a pun about romans, y’know, marching, get it? But the cold is freezing his creative flow! His brain was slowing down! He could practically hear Logan's voice in his ear telling him that he was being ridiculous, but he didn't care.

Finally, after several thousand years of trudging down that blasted track, Roman saw a wooden structure. Small, slightly run down, but it was shelter.

“Thank the Gods,” Roman breathed into his hands, the slight warmth making his hands feel a little less icy.

He breathed out again, deeply, through his mouth. There was just something about how the air seized the moisture that he exhaled and turned it into his own little cloud. For all his bitterness towards the bitter cold at that particular moment, Roman saw beauty in that little puff of mist. He saw beauty in most things, and certainly in every season, but there was something about winter that captivated him as he walked down the snow covered path. The crunch of the gentle flakes under his boots, the swirls of frost on the gnarled bark of the trees, the jagged lacework of cracks in every frozen puddle. To be fair, I suppose it is expected to see more beauty when your arduous voyage is nearing its end.

“See," he grumbled through chattering teeth, “we could work together, you beautiful bitch.” He was referring to winter, of course, because addressing an entire season is a perfectly normal thing to do, at least it is in Roman’s eyes.

It seemed to him that he quickened his pace in excitement when he saw the reddish-brown walnut wood walls, but in all honesty, that last straight was as painfully slow as the rest

He was practically falling over himself by the time he reached the heavy wooden door of the cabin, and he silently prayed that there weren't /two remote, wooden cabins down this road and the right one was actually a further two miles, because, well, just no.

Fingers too numb to turn the handle, Roman sort of just whacked his hands against the door, wincing when his brittle skin, dried out from the cold, cracked with each impact. He prayed again (wow, twice in a day after a lifetime of agnosticism, it's funny what the cold’ll do to you) that Logan had in fact already arrived.

“Good lord, what happened to you?!”

Logan opened the door, and, frankly, looked a little more shocked than was /strictly necessary (at least in Roman’s opinion).

“And a merry Christmas eve to you too, my darling,” Roman replied indignantly, gently pushing Logan out of the way and soaking in the warmth of the cabin. A sigh escaped his lips as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes a fire crackled softly in the grate, casting warm, dancing patterns across the inside of his eyelids as he turned, exposing his whole body to the heat, like a pig on a spit, happy to roast for a while.

A hand on his arm roused Roman to open his eyes to meet a pair of bespectacled ones. He leaned forwards for some kind of hello kiss, but Logan stopped him with a warm hand to his chest and a raised eyebrow. Logan looked at Roman’s lips. “You're bleeding,” he said plainly, turning towards the corner of the room sectioned off by a countertop which they optimistically called the kitchen.

Roman peeked his tongue over his lips and felt a split down the bottom one. "So i am,” he said, equally as plainly (in proportion to their usual levels of exuberance, of course). The ice that had slowly begun to build up in his eyelashes was melting, and nature's own tears dripped down his face. He licked them from where they settled in the corners of his lips.

"Here," Logan said, handing him a damp paper towel, but when Roman reached out to take it, Logan clasped his hands with surprising urgency. "Your knuckles!" He said, looking increasingly concerned as Roman's icy fingers sucked the warmth from his own.

Roman looked down and was almost surprised himself that he hadn't been in some kind of fight, judging by the cracked and shredded skin on his hands.

"You should see the other guy," he chuckled, but Logan gave him a stern look.

"Hand cream and mittens," he said, somewhat absently as he began to look for the aforementioned items. "And for goodness sake get changed, you're soaked through."

"Care to help me with that," Roman smirked as he came up behind Logan and wrapped his arms around his waist.

"Stop stealing my body heat and go!"

Rolling his eyes, Roman grabbed his bag and found one of the bedrooms (it wasn't hard, seeing as the two bedrooms made up half of the rooms in the house).

He rummaged through his rucksack, felt something soft and pulled. A pair of thick pyjama trousers, hoisted out by the ankle, were followed by a pyjama top that, by some cruel twist of fate (or perhaps Roman was just really bad at packing) did not match. Roman glared at the non-matching pyjamas as if it would make one of them change colour.

They did not change colour.

Disgusting.

Huffing and puffing, Roman pulled on the hateful garments, then shivered. Please say I packed a hoodie, he thought as he delved once more into the breach of his rucksack, once more, please easy I packed a hoodie.

His fingers touched something soft and he grabbed it and he pulled.

His bag pulled back.

He pulled harder, grunting with the effort, but his bag held on tight in its cruel game of tug-of-war.

“What’s going on?” Logan asked, standing with his arms folded in the doorway, his tone incredulous.

“This fiendish bag won't yield my hoodie!” Roman glared at the bag for a moment longer before shivering again. “I’m cold,” he said quietly.

“Of course you are,'' Logan sighed, coming forward and, somehow, and with no effort on his part at all, extracted the somewhat stretched hoodie from the bag and threw it gently to Roman.

He missed Roman entirely, so Roman picked it up off of the ground and slipped it over his head, hiding the unmatched pyjamas.

“Come on, you ridiculous human being you, your hot chocolate is getting cold.”

“No! Not the cocoa! You fiend!” Roman addressed winter as a season again, leaving Logan standing in the doorway, a little perplexed, but let's be honest, not surprised to be so.

Roman wanted to drink his hot chocolate then and there (I mean, who wouldn't) but Logan maintained that it could be reheated and stubbornly pushed the lotion into Roman’s hands.

Logan glared until he had put on so much hand cream that his skin stubbornly refused to absorb any more, leaving a slick over his hands that Logan immediately shoved into mittens.

Roman winced at the strange, slimy feeling that that combination induced, but Logan continued to glare, so Roman quietly submitted.

"I've never felt more beautiful," Roman sighed, leaning back across Logan's legs and delicately resting the back of one slimy, mittened hand on his forehead.

"You're always beautiful," Logan said quietly, brushing a strand of hair from Roman's forehead and pretending not to be looking at him as his cheeks turned just a little but pink.

Roman didn't say anything. He thought he would, it seemed like the kind of time that he would, but he didn't.

---------

The rest of the evening was spent on the sofa. Roman finally got his hot chocolate, and Logan listened and nodded as he excitedly went on about some new idea or another, smiling in the right places as he had learned to do, but Roman could see that his eyes were somewhere else.

“What are you thinking about, my darling?”

Logan had a strange expression on his face, part confusion, and then a whole mix of other emotions that Roman couldn't quite make out.

“Why did you walk here?” he finally replied. “Virgil and Patton broke down in almost the same place, but they're waiting for a repair service. Why did you figuratively freeze yourself solid walking four miles through a snowstorm?”

Roman looked up at his lover's face, the harsh edges softened by the glow of the fire, and he genuinely felt his chest seize with the love for that ridiculous nerd that resided there.

“Because I knew that you would be here,” he answered plainly.

Logan let out one of those short, breathy laughs of incredulity and said, “you're a fool. I've fallen in love with a fool.”

---------

As the night crept in and the light faded, Logan read by the flickering light of the fire, as Roman had persisted that they should by no means turn on the lights. (the conversation went something like this:

“But it makes no sens-”

“But the aesTHETIC!”)

Roman began reading, but soon abandoned that in pursuit of just laying with his head in Logan's lap with his eyes closed. It was warm and quiet and Virgil and Patton still hadn't arrived, but apparently the repair person had just arrived and was giving them a lift.

The door opened with its characteristically deafening squeak, and Roman was just about to lift his head to greet his friends when he heard, “sshh! He’s sleeping!”

Feeling nice and sneaky, Roman decided not to pick Logan upon this just yet.

Virgil snickered, Patton squealed, the door closed.

“Don't say a word," Logan muttered dangerously.

"I didn't say anything, dude." Roman could imagine Virgil holding his hands up in surrender with a smirk and hand to pretend to shift in his sleep to hide a grin.

"You two are just so darn adorable!" Although clearly intentionally breathy, Patton’s excited words could barely be called a whisper.

A weight shifted on the sofa and Roman felt a new hand brush some of the hair from his face and tried extra hard to look as asleep as he possibly could. Patton, he was willing to bet. Virgil always preferred to fling his legs over the arms of the armchair across the room.

"He walked halfway here," Logan murmured, sounding fond, but ultimately unimpressed.

“Goodness gracious, the poor thing.”

“Idiot.”

Roman bit his tongue.

“This is gonna be the best Christmas ever!”

“If we don’t freeze to death first.” Roman heard Virgil clamber up from his chair, presumably in search of blankets.

“You gave it your best shot,” Logan muttered, just loud enough for Roman to hear (if he was awake of course). Roman decided that asleep people could still squeeze gently and affirmatively on people's hands, so he did. Logan didn't stop stroking his hair, so he figured that he got away with it.

“Could I have one too please my Spooky Sweetheart?”

“Sure thing. Logan?”

“No thank you, I'm evoking William Harvey at this precise moment.”

Silence.

“William Harvey? Civil War doctor? Bodies for blankets- you know what, never mind.”

Presumably Virgil came back with the (non-corpse, thanks for that image, darling) blankets, and the soft chatter slowly dissolved into gentle, steady breathing of sleep.

Roman suddenly felt a wave of contentment wash over him. Drowsily, he felt around for Logan's hand and brought it close to his face. It was warm. He heard Logan sigh somewhere above him, but felt his fingers gently cup his chin.

Real sleep crept closer and closer, and he knew that when he woke up, Christmas day would be ever so, ever so sweet.

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Taglist (tellme if you want to be added or removed):

@celeste-tyrrell @uwillbeefoundtonight @stop-it-anxiety @soakinforsif @combine-the-kitchens @randomavengersquotes

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dememarquette · 3 years

Text

True Crime

They parked outside a cottage. Portend Point was a gorgeous neighborhood. Occupying it, 1305 Parkview was an equally picturesque property. It had everything one could want from a gentrified postcard: a manicured lawn, a white picket fence, friendly neighborhood dogs excited to see you but not too excited. A sign advertised this slice of warm American pie could be yours. FOR SALE it said, smacked across an unfortunate realtor's forehead. Kevin Locklear had a new golf cart staked on this commission. In his desperation, which reeked as bad as the scene, he ducked below the police tape to plant an optimistic 'Open House Resumes Wednesday!' picket. Adria would take personal pleasure in throwing it in the garbage.

"Jean and Sidney Morin," She briefed, as Ian punched in the door code. "They're from New Gisen, reported missing 72 hours ago. Gas station footage has the suspect grabbing Jean at the Circle K. Sidney was seen by traffic cams in hot pursuit, but we have nothing after the first intersection. Men are checking doorbell cameras along the street. So far, nothing." The stolen car in the driveway was similarly combed through. Every stray hair inside was documented. There wasn't much left that wasn't bagged, tagged and sent off to the lab, but Ian liked one last intimate walk-through before tossing the keys to clean-up. If he was absorbing one word of what Adria was saying, it didn't show. Her partner worked like a TNT detective. Adria pictured the world bottoming out around him. He'd suffer 50 consecutive epiphanies after looking at something stupid like a tipped ketchup bottle, and construct a convoluted MO from there, but that's not how she worked. If reading the block text helped, murder's hooked on phonics, by God she'd do it. "Neighbors didn't hear anything. We have no idea where the struggle took place, if there was one. Judging from the looks of this place-" "It wasn't here." He said, tuning in only for silent confirmation. She nodded, and he killed the lights. His UV swept over the walls. The inside had the aesthetically-pleasing insipidity of a gourmet cracker. It had been sanitized for a showing, but according to the carpet, the perp wasn't admiring the crown modeling. A modest drip-trail led straight from the front door to the basement, and there wasn't a petal out of place before it. After a quick scan of the rooms composing the ground floor, Ian got his fill of Ashley HomeStore's heritage collection. To the basement they went. Each wood plank creaked under their feet. The floor consisted of a flat slab of water-stained cement. The space was fashioned into a man-cave. Shelves were bolted to the walls. All the sofas were leather. Posters on the wall were swapped for something more palatable, flanking an entertainment system that was to be marveled. In a move that didn't appear to serve any purpose toward the room's breathability, all the furniture was shoved to the side to clear the center. A single bulb hung by chain overhead. Energy funneled through a copper wire made it hum. Evidence photos never did it justice. The victims were strung together by a lawn hose. A single cloth gag- maybe a sheet- knocked their heads together, pulled taut at the pocket of their jaws. Their height difference forced Jean's face heavenward. The whites of her eyes were visible from the top, but you had to be at the bottom to see the shadow she sat in was actually a pattern. Their blood leaked into a paste-like outline, seeping color into the circle etched into it. Where the natural tug of gravity didn't fill the trenches, the killer dropped to their knees and started fingerprinting, casting away any macabre elegance it formerly had. Their hands scraped to fill the pattern all until it got to the bottom of the arc. Ian read her mind. "They were interrupted." "By what?" She asked. His mouth pressed into a hard line. He didn't have an answer. Instead he completed his circuit before dropping closer to the gag. Adria knelt beside him, her boots toeing the edge where the brushwork tapered. Fingerprints- fragmented and smeared- were shipped off to IAFIS. Problem was, when the suspect hadn't indulged in some casual DUI, she needed something to match it to. She sized her hand up against theirs, while the deceased husband stared on. Adria avoided eye contact. Violent crime wasn't anything new. She's seen her fair share since moving to the city, but never a throat cut this deeply. Sidney had been nearly decapitated. Skin folded off his Adam's apple like a bow-tie. Stringy matter underneath was on full display. "What about the design? Does that mean anything to you?" "The team is working on tracking it. So far they're thinking it’s some type of online cult." "And that?" She tipped her head to the bowls skirting the outline. Ian grabbed one, sifting through it with a finger. Its contents stuck to the latex, white. "Cinnamon, and salt. The last one's pyrite. Offerings." "Then what were they?" "Bait." The moment he said it the lights died. Ian shot up. Adria pulsed to follow, but her balance teetered. Neither were near a switch. "Who else is here?" "No one." The bowl Ian was holding warbled a low note, spinning where he’d been. He shouted from the foot of the stairs. "Has to be the breaker. Don't move." "What?" "Don't move." "Wh- I'm not going to touch anything!" Adria lurched on steel-toes. Offense had her fumbling with her flashlight. Sure. Okay. Fine. So in the past she hasn't been the most careful. Maybe she's stomped through one or two crime scenes. But never when it mattered! So it's not like she'd- Something blew past her ear. With a graceless shriek, she made it a third. "God DAMN it!" Coagulated blood gunked to her jeans. She fell onto her back, swearing and curling to assess the damage. Ian would take one look at her and scowl. He'll do that smoldering, glower thing of his that she only liked when it was directed to other people. And then she'll have to go home, change her jeans, and hope he lets her back onto the property before they break out the body bags. He's going to see right away that- There's smoke? She dropped her knee. Sniffing, she swiveled. Air was escaping somewhere, hissing like a busted soda can. Whatever it was suffused the room. Her eyes burned just to move, but she couldn’t shut them. It could be more than the breaker- But that wouldn't explain why it was in the middle of the scene. With a yelp, she witnessed a spark fly between the corpses. Her heels planted into the floor. She kicked, hastily wedging distance between her and smog lifting off the concrete. She could've pretended she missed the class where she found out cinnamon was flammable. She could've maybe let it slide that denim wasn't an accelerant, but this was straight up sulfur. A ribbon of light unwound between them. A silhouette stretched out from behind it, towering. "Ian?" She asked, already knowing it wasn't. It had too many feelings to be. "What is this?" It croned. Miserably, it picked up a leg. "Ugh." Fingers acting faster than her brain, Adria whipped her gun from its holster "HANDS. Hands up, now!" "Sticky-" It groused. She heard a wet, staggered ppmf-ff. That suspiciously sounded like bodies toppling. In a maneuver she couldn't repeat, she blindly vaulted over the sofa, jamming herself between its backing and the wall. Her vision developed slow. First outlines, then shapes. Colors a little after when the smokescreen fanned out, blurring the glow around his face. She propped up her gun. Old leather gave away her position. The red light of eyes widened, vaguely cartoon-ish. "WHOA, hey now. Don't shoot." "Get on the ground." She ordered. "I said I wanna see your hands! Both of them, now!" "Aye-aye!" He complied. There was something sarcastic about the way his shadow wiggled to the floor. "Happy?" "Who are you?!" "Demetri Marquette, at your service." He tried to bow, until the violent rattle of her pistol suggested that was strictly prohibited. "What are you doing here?!" "Same as you, I imagine." "What?! What does that mean?" "You know. Working. The hustle." He shimmied. One by one, the candles surrounding them lit. The man in the center appeared nothing as he did in the shadows. His stature halved. The reddish glow vanished from his face, but most perplexing yet was that he somehow found a cover to throw over the bodies. With the blanket over them, they looked like fucking sock puppets. Adria sucked in a breath, sputtering nothing but inarticulated syllables for solid five seconds before, "Hey- stop fucking with my scene!!" "Oh- this?" He patted the victim's heads. The disrespect alone should’ve been grounds to fire. "I was meaning to talk to you about that. I'm sorry but two? Overkill. We’re not in the business of extra credit but I do appreciate the enthusiasm. So, uh. What's it going to be?" She swore nothing about this conversation was tracking. "Huh? "Money, fame, power, et cetera?" Nonsense! Complete nonsense. What was he implying? That this was an offer? A transaction for the bodies? It didn't matter. He overstayed his welcome before he popped in. And the fact he got in here at all may mean he knew something they didn't. This ridiculous, unexplainable suspension of belief kept her from feeling imperiled but this fuck was going to ruin the whole case if he didn't already. She pinched the button on the side of her walkie. "Ian, I need back-up downstairs now." The stranger sucked his teeth. "Ah. I wouldn't do that.” ’Oh my God, shut up. “Come on, talk to me.” He cooed. “What would make you more comfortable? Fresh air? The lights- is it the lights?" She glared, trigger finger satisfied with rapid-fire button clicking. Ian's hip would be going off like the fire alarm should be. "You know, I was going for ambiance, but." He snapped. Suddenly the power was back. She twisted from her fort. Corner to corner, stomping cleared across ceiling. The basement door creaked. Ian came swinging down the stairs, perfectly on cue. "The breaker fixed itself." He announced, sounding leery of it. "Imagine that," Said Blondie. Adria’s aim stayed fixed, prepared for sudden moves. There weren’t any, even from her partner. Ian’s velocity slowed to a stop. His grip on the handrail turned rigid before the bottom, tightening like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His eyes roved over the ruined scene, the magnitude of it driving a huge crease into his brow. He did not notice the stranger directly beside him. Adria desperately looked between the both of them. "He can't see me," Demetri elaborated. "Adria?" Said Ian. The gravelly rumble of his voice asked fifty questions- none of which she had an answer to. She had a gun aimed at nothing. Two bodies were down, bizarrely set up for a picnic. "I-..." She stuttered. "Word of advice," Demetri picked a piece of lint of Ian’s shoulder. The detective reacted with only the slight drift of his eye-line, before his attention snapped back to Adria. "Don't say anything or you'll buy yourself a ticket to a psych eval." "Ian, you can't-?" "Nevermind. From this angle, you already look insane." Ian waited for her to continue but she lowered her gun. If he was right, there was no coming back from this. "...I thought I saw someone in the smoke." "Smoke?" There was no smoke. No fire, no light. Demetri's trapeze around the basement hadn't even left footprints. To Ian, she used the two minutes he was away to go nuts. Just lose her mind. Sanity to the wind. Who needs to critically think when you can barricade yourself behind a sofa, wildly waving a gun around? Defending yourself from scary shadow people that a paid electricity bill keeps at bay? Ian stared, impatience surging from a quiet simmer to a boil. She realized it’s been too long since she even tried answering a question. "Are you alright?" He rephrased. What she heard was ’Are you an idiot?’ Her face burned hot. "I think-" She slung her bag over his shoulder. "I think I need a minute. I'll be back." The tight set of his jaw meant he agreed. She ran past him, bolting for the cruiser. Now she was going to have to type up an incident report. Scrub her pants. Contemplate the onset of her paranoia induced insanity, and hope they wouldn't take her badge for this. She threw herself into the front seat of her cruiser. The door slammed behind her. Before she’d let frustrated tears get the better of her, she pulled up a Chrome browser. Occult. Satanism. She typed. Demon summoning. Symbol. All the results looked close. Matching the exact twisted pattern would be a nightmare. "Mind if we hit Starbucks?" Demetri necked her seat. She jolted, narrowly stopping herself from throwing her elbow through his eye socket. Knowing he was fictional made her wish she hadn't hesitated. "Why are you in my car?!" She swiped at her face. "For a frap. Hopefully. Is butterscotch still in season?" "No! Get out." His cheek squished against her headrest. "Aw, c'mon." She adjusted the rear-view, only for him pop up passenger side. "I get it." He said, proving he did Not actually. Devoid of any understanding of what 'Get out' meant, "More of a Dunkin' girl. That's fine I guess. Oh! Hope you don't mind. I dug through your glove department. I was trying to get to know you." He waggled a scrap of stationary. "Does the department know you're dating? Seems naughty. Is that against HIPA or something?" She flustered, red-faced. That note had been in Ian’s lunch. "OUT!" "I mean, I'm not judging. I like it. You'd think detective romances would get cliché but ugh." He pressed it to his heart. "There's something so enticing about seeing the ugliness of humankind hand-in-hand with the one you love. A real testament to love's resilience. Do you listen to Rihanna?" We Found Love belted from her speakers. Forget the psych eval, now she had to worry about the HOA. "What do you want, huh?!” Adria punched her stereo. “What do you want? Why are you here? Turn this OFF-" "I want to know what you want." He shrugged. "I want you to leave?! I’ve said a million times!" "No can do. Gonna need something more substantial. Unless, gasp." He made a show of patting down his slacks before producing a pen. The document it came with looked real and official. Spooky, until it came to 'Officer Hardass' at the top of a memo. It read "I forfeit my eternal soul to get Demetrius Marquette to GTFO" in gold. She looked down at the paper, head reeling. This was a fever dream. A nightmare. A joke, but she could feel the weight surrounding the document. Metaphysical. And as tempting as it would be to physically take his pen and jam it through his palm, five finger fillet- "NO." She shouted, chucking it back at him. "I'm not selling anything." Rihanna's chorus guttered and died. Its volume fell with his face. Hopeless indeed. "I don't get it." He huffed, impossibly exasperated. Like she was the one being objectively difficult here. "Why did you even summon me, then? What's the point?" "I didn't summon you, asshole! Some psychopath did!" "Huh." He pondered, deciding that did make more sense after-all. "...SO GO AWAY." "EeeeeEEEH. I don't think I will." He kicked back in the seat. A pair of sunglasses slid down his nose, gilded logo hitting the sun just right. How did a Dolce and Gabbana sales associate see him but not Ian? "You see. The problem is that I'm here now. I can't go home without something to show for it." "That's not my problem," Adria said, incredulously. "YOU are my problem! I don’t know who you think you are, but I don't owe you anything. You came onto my scene, jeopardized my career, made me look like an idiot, and now you're making my car smell like eggs!" Demetri recoiled. For a moment she thought she got through to him. Then it became abundantly clear it was just the egg part, actually. "Wow." He said. Hurt gave his voice a raspy edge. "Wow..." “So GO AWAY.” She tried for two. Three would be a taser. “You- you know what?” Demetri splayed his hands. “Fine. We’re done here. I’ll go-” “THANK YOU.” He scowled. “-I’ll go, but I will be back. And when I return, we're continuing this discussion in earnest. I hope, I sincerely hope Detective Kyro, that you think about it." She wouldn’t. But he vanished before she could say so. - - - By the time she got home, the scene was cleared. Since it had been cataloged ad nauseam, there was no need to report his partner’s lapse in sanity. Ian let it go. He covered her ass by risking his to shuffle in clean-up before anyone with a badge audited the damage. She got off easy. Despite earning every letter of a psych referral, confrontation fell away into 'unspoken' territory. He said nothing, but it was strongly encouraged by his cancellation of their Friday after-work happy hour that she take an extended weekend to 'rest.' That part he phoned in without her approval. Defeated, she threw off her jacket. She hooked her gun belt on a peg by the door. Her jeans were just going to burn- they were as good as cursed as far as she was concerned. There was nothing left to do but take a long, hot shower. Maybe she’d feel better if her skin ran hotter than the shame. The rest could be dealt with Monday. What choice did she have, really? She jammed a thumb through her braid. The plaits fell loose as she kicked off her boots, Adria went through the motions of attaining tentative comfort. And the moment she thought she could let it go (until she’d inevitably replay it at all again tonight) she smacked into the chest of someone in the bathroom. Her bathroom. This motherfucker made himself at home. “So,” His finger wound in the cord of her hairdryer. Freshly washed, and expertly coiffed, Demetri smelled exactly like her body wash. "Did you think about it?"

#a JUST FOR FUNSIES au #adria #true crime #story

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weirdnessxmagnet · 3 years

Text

CHARACTER STUDY

— basics.

▸ is your muse tall / short / average ? Short at 5′2′‘.

▸ are they okay with their height ? It has its uses, and its downsides, but she’s pretty okay with it.

▸ what’s their hair like ? Dark brown and usually carefully styled in that faux-effortless way that takes 10 times longer than anyone who doesn’t do it would guess.

▸ do they spend a lot of time on their hair / grooming ? Yes. Toni has been known to describe her appearance as a mask, and it’s a carefully crafted one. Most of the time the goal is to appear ‘pretty and harmless’, but even when she’s trying to look like someone who doesn’t care about her appearance, you can be sure she’s spent just as long making it look that was as she would to look like someone who cared a lot.

▸ does your muse care about their appearance / what others think ? Yes, in that she cares very much how it shapes people’s perception of her. She’s a chameleon, but that only works so long as she thins carefully about what her appearance makes other people think. This is a huge motivation in her learning Glamour.

— preferences.

▸ indoors or outdoors ? Outdoors. While there’s a lot to be said for a home advantage, Toni’s cleithrophoia can’t creep up on her in an open space the way it can in a closed building. This is one of the reasons she’ll walk when she’s feeling uncomfortable.

▸ rain or sunshine ? Rain. There is something purifying about a rainstorm, a peace in letting herself be soaked through and not fighting it. Additionally, she’s very attached to watching thunderstorms, so not liking rain would be a it of a problem.

▸ forest or beach ? Forest. Whether this is the fae heritage creeping out or if she’s just learned to be wary of the coast (and anyway, half her friends can’t go near the sea) is for others to guess.

▸ precious metals or gems ? Precious metals. There’s a subtlety to them and they tend to go with everything.

▸ flowers or perfumes ? Flowers. She spends a lot of time around creatures with very sensitive senses, so perfumes are risky. Flowers, however, are always good.

▸ personality or appearance ? Personality. She may have her aesthetic preferences, but at the end of the day her choice to be around anyone comes down to how interesting she finds them.

▸ being alone or being in a crowd ? A crowd. While this extreme extrovert does occasionally need peace, she’s none to fond of being alone. Crowds are good, though, whether she’s the centre of them or people watching from the side lines.

▸ order or anarchy ? Antonia definitely leans heavily towards anarchy, with her thorough lack of respect for authority and her belief that rules are only to be followed for as long as they’re useful.

▸ painful truths or white lies ? Painful truths. A lie can only live so long before it’s found out, and Toni maintains that the truth is always more important than how she feels about it.

▸ science or magic ? Must the two be opposed? Toni is a scientist at heart, but her whole life is magic. At some point she has to believe the two can work together.

▸ peace or conflict ? Conflict. It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate peace, or think it’s worthwhile, it’s just that there is always something to argue about or fight for and at her core she thrives on confrontation. If she ever actually got peace she’d be lost and bored.

▸ night or day ? Night. That’s when everything interesting happens.

▸ dusk or dawn ? Counterintuitive to the last answer, perhaps, but dawn. The return of warmth and light comes with a (somewhat false) feeling of safety. The world putting its mask back on.

▸ warmth or cold ? Warmth. For al that she thrives in autumnal weather, she compliments this with oversized sweaters and roaring fires and thermoses of hot coffee and hot chocolate.

▸ many acquaintances or a few close friends ? Both? She’s certainly a fan of her wide variety of acquaintances, but everyone needs a few people they’re really close to.

▸ reading or playing a game ? That really comes down to her mood. Playing a game if she wants to be social or do some puzzle solving, reading if she needs some space or wants to learn something.

— questionnaire.

▸ what are some of your muse’s bad habits ? Reckless behaviour as a coping mechanism when stressed, letting her temper get the better of sense, the need to show off, not being able to switch off the manipulation.

▸ has your muse lost anyone close to them ? how has it affected them ? So many. Okay, not that many because she’s not close to too many people, but Lucida, Asher and Eli all went in the same year. It nearly broke her, her stubbornness and anger was her saving grace once again. She’s certainly not any better for it, but she appreciates the proof of her own resilience.

▸ what are some fond memories your muse has ? Sitting on the roof with Lucy during rainstorms, and trying to prank each other in the graveyard (Toni always lost, ghosts are snitches). The first time she went swing dancing with Mara and not having the first clue how, and watching the demon pet every street cat in Istanbul. Ray badly impersonating Mara on tumblr just to make her laugh while she was in the hospital, and Zeke giving meteorologists a headache just to make a rainstorm to cheer her up.

▸ is it easy for your muse to kill ? When she feels like it’s her or them, yes, far too easy. There will be none of this ‘you won’t do it’ as she’s pointing a gun at you; you won’t get half way through the sentence before she’s shot you and walked away.

▸ what’s it like when your muse breaks down ? She starts off quiet and snappy, because she wants to pretend she’s fine and anger is her main coping mechanism. Expect reckless behaviour, big and small (quite literally, this could be anything from eating excessive cheese fries to challenging God Himself to a fit fight). If you manage to endure this stage without backing off and leaving her to it, or without her running off on you (which means she does not trust you to see her hurting) you get to be around for ugly crying and possibly excessively hot showers.

▸ is your muse capable of trusting someone with their life ? Yes, but not many people, and often with caveats. Lucida she would trust with her life. Mara she kind of has trusted with her life, though there are some extreme circumstances where she wouldn’t.

▸ what’s your muse like when they’re in love ? Fiercely loyal and uncharacteristically selfless.

Tagged by: @anthropolite

#little ball of impotent fury

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whatwashernameagain · 4 years

Text

Keep him safe - Chapter 32

You can read the previous Chapters here: Ch 1, Ch 5, Ch 10, Ch 15, Ch 20, Ch 25, Ch 30, previous chapter, Ao3 Link, Lo’s, Pat’s and Virgil’s aesthetics, You are Magical, I’m dying to be with you, The Dreamer

Pairings: Logan/Patton, Roman/Virgil

Words: 9.779

Warnings: social anxiety, cursing, arguments, Virgil’s potty mouth (let me know if I missed any)

Summary: Detective Logan Sanders and his best friend and dorky partner Roman Prince have made a dear friend in the lovely pattisier Patton. Logan however feels a lot more than friendship for the sweet man, even though he knows he cannot possibly have him. Their routine is broken abruptly when Logan finds bruises on Patton’s fair skin and slender wrists he could hardly have received from his costumary clumsiness. Meanwhile his partner Roman has his own demon to fight, which comes in the form of a little delinquent who seemed to have been pulled into a street gang quite against his will. Roman is determined to help the strange young man. It would be so much easier though if he just stopped hissing at him!

Notes: Exciting things! @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 sent me a Christmas gift which I am too happy about and @sebthesnipe has consented to support us with the beta reading (and she is intimidatingly good. I am in awe. So thorough, but who’s surprised by that? Thank you so much!) Also there are new people on the Keep Him Safe Discord server, so feel free to come chat with us there. It’s a fun little place and I love everyone there! Invitation: https://discord.gg/Y2WNAND

Chapter 32

“Motherf- why do you insist on sitting there, you bristly beast from hell?” Roman wailed.

For the third time, he had almost tripped over the raccoon cowering on the ground between the sofa and the corridor. He swore he had moved it aside – very carefully – with his foot. Twice. He had even bribed it to the kitchen with a few, strictly forbidden, snacks. There was no time for this! The ceremony – his ceremony – started in two hours and it would define his life, honor his entire career! It was-

“Ow! I will make a coat out of you! Or maybe even a fedora!” Roman swore, jumping on his unbitten foot. Gathering his courage, he snatched the monster around the fat middle and lifted the retching, gurgling critter high away from his body. His dearest Virgil would tame the gray and white monstrosity for him. If he would forgive him for almost throwing the thing at his face with a shrill screech.

“The fuck, man?!” Virgil yelped, catching the flying animal and immediately toppling over into Patton, who sat on the couch behind him during his attempt to wrangle the scratching raccoon that tried to swipe at his hands. True to Roman’s hopes, Virgil managed to roll it into the thick fabric of the blanket next to him and reduce it to a quivering ball of rage hissing in the general direction of the entire world.

Feeling Virgil’s glare hot on his person, Roman hunched his shoulders.

“Sorry?”

Patton, sitting quietly with his wool and kitten in his lap, drew his limbs closer to his body. He was already dressed and ready to go, as always making sure he was free to help everyone else.

After Roman’s split-second decision to attempt to save the thief, the results of his actions had taken a life of its own. His picture had been printed all over the local newspapers and had even made it to national television, though it was only a small feel-good piece after the news. He had been asked on actual interviews (which he had excelled at of course, charming as he was). Suddenly, people loved him. His pretty selfies were trending on Instagram and he even received actual handwritten fan-mail. Just yesterday, a small crowd of reporters had held him up on the way to the office, asking him questions and trying to get a good shot of his suddenly famous, and quite lovely, smile.

For the first time, perhaps in his whole life, Roman felt truly confident. He didn’t have to pretend to believe he deserved the world - he felt like he’d already held it in his hands. His laughs were filled with joy and when he looked at the mirror, he liked what he saw. He would ruffle his bright curls, giggling at his reflection before he danced around the bathroom, using his brush as a microphone singing happily. There was no need to force a smile any longer. He liked himself. If he was truly honest, the reason wasn’t the attention of his adoring fans recognizing him on the street and wanting his autograph, or the reporters flushing at his sweet smiles and charming manners. No, that was all exciting – so exciting! – but it truly was the knowledge of being loved unconditionally by the people that really mattered. It was the atmosphere at home. It was the quiet, safe feeling of evenings spent together; the knowledge that he was important to someone. It was Patton standing on his tiptoes and hugging him when he got home. It was Logan lecturing him about his fluid intake. It was Virgil, blushing and grumpily hunching his shoulders when their eyes met; the way he almost smiled at him.

The young man hadn’t taken his words back, despite Roman’s fear that he would. They hadn’t talked about the confession again, especially since Roman feared he would scare Virgil off, but something had notably changed. The barista was defensive of his reputation, growling and grumbling whenever someone so much as hinted at him needing help, but something in his demeanor towards Roman was different. Softer.

As the young detective pondered a chance at something new with Virgil with an excitedly beating heart, he finished fixing his tie and promptly made a mess of it. Groaning, he threw his hands in the air dramatically.

“This whole day shall end in disaster! It’s cursed! Fate has forsaken me!”

Virgil groaned and climbed around the growling ball buried in the blankets. “Let me, you theater nerd.” He mumbled.

Standing in front of him he was so much smaller than Roman. He could see the shadow his dark lashes cast on his moonlight pale cheeks. His hands were slender and nimble as they took hold of his mangled tie and pulled it from the taller man’s neck. Throwing it over his own shoulder, he leaned close to pull up the collar of the stark white dress shirt Roman still wore untucked, with his dark uniform slacks. The excitedly thundering heart slowed in the detective’s chest as Virgil drew closer. Obediently, he leaned his head forward to let the young man wrap the cool fabric around the back of his neck. God, he would let him do anything to him. He could not believe Virgil was here, voluntarily standing close. How he wanted to place his hands on the slender waist. The moment he had first laid eyes on him came back to him with such vivid clarity. The slim figure wrapped in stiff, cold leather; bruised, defensive and sharp toothed. He was still the most beautiful creature Roman had ever seen.

A hushed silence fell over the apartment like a heavy blanket of snow. Virgil formed the loop and pulled the end of tie through with slow, deliberate movements. He never lifted his eye to the intense gaze, focused on him as if he were the only thing worth looking at. Only the flush rising to his cheeks gave any indication that he was affected at all.

His pink lips were slightly parted. Roman couldn’t look away. He couldn’t recall a time where he felt so light as he did since Virgil had stepped close and spilled a rambling, confused confession from those lovely lips. Though he wouldn’t receive his award for a couple of hours, he already felt blessed beyond his wildest hopes by his sweet kitten. This was everything he had ever wanted.

As if hearing his sugary thoughts about him, Virgil tucked sharply at the tie, pulling it taunt. Choking a little, Roman fumbled to loosen the perfect knot. His wildcat flashed a sharp grin before ducking his head once again; his hands slipping down the sculpted chest and falling away, leaving a trail of heat.

Warmth was also rising to Virgil’s cheeks as he remembered that Patton was huddled up right behind him. Well fuck, that was embarrassing. Perhaps he should just put his head in the oven right now. In the face of his fear of losing Roman, his own courage had completely steamrolled him and truth be told, he had no idea where to go from here. This whole feelings thing was a fucking dumpster fire. He blamed that bitch of a thief.

Patton hadn’t noticed a thing, though. He was too busy leaning over the back of the couch, gaping at the man that was currently fussing over the shoulders of the freshly ironed uniform jacket he had put on a hanger. Logan, having finished dressing with plenty of time, had been forced to clean up after Roman; look for his white gloves, iron his uniform and hold the mirror for him to see the back of his head while he styled his curls. Now he’d entered the living room, dressed from head to toe in his pristine dress blues. The golden buttons and badge on his chest gleamed, as well as the elaborately stitched symbol of his department on his arm. His slacks were pressed to perfection and accentuated his long legs. He was even already wearing his polished shoes and white gloves and a rat on his shoulder. He looked entirely too attractive.

Virgil worried a little for Patton’s heart. Literally. He was growing quite red.

Even if his barista decided to tease him later and he was getting a little anxious of being caught, Patton was not missing a moment of this. He’d thought he had grown used to living with men who were this- this- well, this put together and handsome and kind and intimidatingly in control of their lives, but then something happened and he was baffled again. He didn’t know how to prepare for it either. Virgil looking cute as heck in the morning, he could deal with, even when it made him want to hug him and almost climb into his lap with love- he could just do that. And Roman was always as attractive as a model, even when he was complaining or drinking cocoa in his fluffy slippers. His adorableness just made him look soft, even moments after he would startl Patton with his dramatic outbursts. There was no reason not to tell him how pretty he was every day. But Logan? Yesterday he’d irritably dashed through the apartment in a shirt and boxer briefs looking for his trousers that Roman had abducted. Patton had felt like his heart would stop at the sight. He couldn’t just jump at him like that with his long, naked legs and socks and all! And sometimes Logan would just sit next to him opening his mail and the light would fall on his face and Patton just… he just….

He didn’t know what to do with himself. He’d never felt something like this. Especially something so confusing. His feelings were a fluctuating mess. Just when he thought he was healing and managing not to wake up in a cold sweat every night, fighting the conflicting urges to dial Trevor’s number or run to Logan for protection from him, something like this unbalanced him. The problem was - it didn’t seem to want to go away, despite Patton’s growing confusion. The more Logan got comfortable, the more he showed his real personality. It was a development Patton had expected with absolute certainty, but he hadn’t thought the older man would change quite like this. He’d expected to see more of the sides that had frightened him in the past. The quick anger. The dominance. The physical violence he was capable of. The demand to control everything. He wasn’t blind to Logan’s flaws. He’d learned the hard way, after all.

He wasn’t surprised to see those flaws now that the older man didn’t need to hide them anymore. After all, Patton had nowhere else to go.

Logan had plans for everything and needed things to go his way. When they didn’t, he’d grow irritable and even angry. This morning, Roman had given him reason to grow furious with him by losing his gloves, putting everyone in a right state looking for them. There had been screaming and wailing (all by Roman), which had made Logan grow progressively more quiet and frustrated. Tension had settled in Patton’s chest quickly. Whenever someone was angry, it felt like something lodged itself in his throat and made it hard to breathe. It made Patton feel small and frightened and guilty, no matter what he did or hadn’t done himself. He always, always expected to be punished.

Logan hadn’t hurt Roman though.

Well, he had hurt him a little by grabbing the scruff of his neck despite his complains about his hair and depositing him on the couch. Without his loud interference, he’d found the gloves in less than ten minutes.

Apparently oblivious to Patton’s fear, he had settled down next to his stressed partner and looked at him earnestly.

“Everything you need is here, Roman. There is no need to be nervous. You deserve this.”

Tension had fallen from his partner’s shoulders like a visible weight. Laughing bashfully, knowing now that the reason for his panic had turned out to be a kitten rolling up on his gloves, he scooted closer to his friend, shyly asking if he was still loved in his own way.

Without hesitation, Logan had wrapped an arm around the broad shoulders and leaned their foreheads together in a moment of quiet gentleness. Despite lecturing him about their timetable he had still ironed Roman’s jacket and de-furred the gloves before he’d finished dressing.

Those moments - where Patton expected things to go wrong, when Roman became whiny and annoying and Virgil started growling with stress and Logan began showing signs of anger, or simply when he and Virgil started talking each other into a rage over the latest failure to protect minorities or the environment - they still frightened Patton. They would keep frightening him for a long time, he feared. He couldn’t help but be aware of the powder keg that was the suddenly too small apartment where four men lived together who were all very different from each other and tended to rub each other to irritation.

Virgil was still defensive of Patton and his pride, and recently his claim on Roman. Roman was his own very special person who needed encouragement and attention and occasionally sugar followed by a hug. And Logan… well, he just needed things to work, be tidy and on time; which they never, ever were. Little conflicts were impossible to avoid, and Patton feared them turning into hurtful fights.

They never did.

Still, every time, Patton expected the blame to fall on him for being incompetent, or forgetting something, or making their situation more difficult by being there and needing space, by being in the way or simply getting in the way of Virgil’s grumpy insults or Roman’s flailing complaints or Logan’s growling lectures.

It certainly hadn’t helped that they were all a little tired after Professor Duke had rung the doorbell at four thirty this morning and had demanded they join his marching band. He’d been banging pans against each other. Logan had given him a cookie and told him to sleep before shoving him into the corridor a little harder than strictly necessary.

Patton couldn’t understand why no one was arguing with him, especially considering how stressful the time of Roman’s heroics had been. He wasn’t easy to live with, he knew that. He said silly things, or his presence became annoying, or he didn’t perform as he should – and recently, he hadn’t been performing at all. He had just been here, useless and waiting for something bad to happen. The longer he’d been sitting around doing nothing, the worse his anxiety became. He was starting to understand that he needed to get back to the café. His ankle was healed enough and his hands were almost like new. Even his bruises were barely visible anymore. He needed to make himself useful. Perhaps it would help to have something else to focus on. Something less hopeful and less likely to break his heart.

His little heart beat hard in his chest whenever he experienced Logan growing soft with Virgil or Roman, despite his stress. He couldn’t quite help quietly expecting the worst and when it didn’t happen, his heart was so full. Every time the moment where Patton expected a yell or a blow passed, he felt…Well, it was hard to explain... He felt untethered and perhaps irrationally relieved, grateful, probably and despite his shame, a little suspicious still.

Logan was affecting him most in those times when he acted so differently than how Patton had been conditioned to expect. When he untangled a purring kitten from another article of clothing and his large hands were so gentle, despite the threads coming loose, Patton felt soft; When he called the racoon a sabberndes Biest aus der Hölle and tried to wash the stolen jam off of its snapping jaws with a warm damp cloth, Patton breathed a sigh of relief, finding his chest filling with fondness; When Roman dropped into Logan’s lap while he was trying to read, ignoring the ‘oof’ of pain he elicited while loudly complaining before being deposited on the couch or carpet with nothing more than fond amusement and exasperation or Logan even indulging his partner and holding him a little (like Roman had hoped), Patton wanted to hug him with relief. He was so grateful whenever he could understandably yell at Roman or Virgil or the pets, and didn’t.

And then there was the way he treated Patton.

Every morning, he greeted him the same way. “Good morning, Patton. I hope you are well rested?” Spoken in this deep, confident voice that held a soft, warm tone to it. Every morning, he would discuss the latest news he had read with Virgil, on his tablet and then he’d drink the rest of his tea while asking Patton about his plans for the day. He would listen and look at him with his dark attentive eyes as if he were truly interested. Whenever Patton meekly tried to divert his attention from him because he had nothing interesting to say, Logan would ask follow-up questions and tried to find out if he needed anything for his day. Every evening when he got home, he would ask how Patton was feeling, if he had enjoyed himself, what he and Virgil had been doing. He checked on the progress of his healing, despite not even needing anything but two band aids anymore; he would carefully cradle Patton’s hands in his own and move his fingers this way and that to check his nerves and dexterity.

“Your hands are the basis of your profession. It is of vital importance that you are provided with optimal care to ensure the ideal conditions to regain your health.” He’d told Patton earnestly. The young baker had tried to swallow down the memories of wrapping his still bleeding hands himself, or throwing out batches of dough contaminated with his blood.

And now Logan was wearing a dress uniform.

After handing over the suit jacket, he placed the matching hat over his raven hair and straightened it critically, checking his reflection in the glass of the lion-flower picture Roman had finished. Turning to see if Virgil and Patton were at least ready to go, Logan found the baker huddled up on the couch where he usually sat in his attempt to make himself smaller. He was looking up at him with his honey brown eyes, dressed in soft, pale fabrics that accentuated his slim figure and innocent, pretty face.

Mortified, Logan found himself flushing. Roman had told him Patton would enjoy the view and he’d secretly hoped his partner was right, but now that he actually stood under the gaze of the young man he wanted, so desperately, to be close to, he felt as shy as a teenager. His thoughts rarely strayed far from Patton. He found himself wondering what he was doing; if he needed anything; if he and Virgil were safe and happy at home. He kept wondering what Patton was thinking. Now that Trevor had left their lives, he felt like they were suddenly at a crossroads where the pâtissier needed to choose his path. They hadn’t discussed long term arrangements yet and the insecurity of it was eating at Logan. He was certain attempting to seduce Patton into staying at his side was a poorly timed idea. Yet in moments like these, when he felt his body heat with diffidence and excitement due to the younger man’s attention, it was hard not to be tempted. Logan didn’t know where to go from here, but he knew he wanted to keep Patton. He wanted him to be happy and safe and to be where he could protect him. He wanted him for himself and that was a terrifying thought. Patton deserved so much, and so much could go wrong. The pâtissier was almost too precious to consider claiming for himself. He was too gentle, too fragile and deserving to belong to Logan.

Thankfully, Patton always appeared to sense when a distraction was needed. Despite flushing and huddling tightly against the pillows upon being caught staring, he cleared his throat and adopted his most cheerful smile.

“Let’s get you your medal, RoRo!”

“It is not just any medal.” Logan explained proudly. “The Medal for Valor is the department's third highest accolade. It is conferred upon police officers for acts of outstanding personal bravery intelligently performed in the line of duty at imminent personal hazard to life under circumstances evincing a disregard of personal consequences.”

“At least a few of those apply to Roman then.” Virgil grumbled.

“Hey, I did perform intelligently!” Roman cried, offended.

“No, you did not.” Both Virgil and Logan chimed simultaneously.

“You are very intelligent, though!” Patton assured his friend sweetly as Logan indulged Virgil’s raised hand for a slightly unsure high five.

Roman was a fucking snack, Virgil realized. He looked tall and regal and a little strict in his dress blues, like an authority figure; like an actor in a movie; like something Virgil would want to climb. Standing on the stage with his tall build and perfect posture and proud, sweet smile, he made cameras flash and hearts break all over the country. The ceremony would be broadcasted nationally that evening, due to the massive amount of attention that one fucking picture of him carrying that shiny bastard had gotten. Virgil was hiding it in one of his books. It was a good picture, okay? Whose business was it what he did with it?

Virgil clutched the cool rat in his hands closer to his chest, earning a small lick on the chin from the animal. Logan had given Nicodemus to him in the wise expectation of the irritation at all of the dressed up, thirsty bitches trying to seduce his man. Were his hands free, he’d have probably tried to knock out the scantily dressed, slightly orange, fake-tanned lady next to him for blowing a kiss at Roman as he beamed in their direction. Only the knowledge that it was him the attractive detective was smiling at seemed to calm him. He always did that: look at him like he was the fucking sun. It was fucking sad.

His heart fluttered.

Fuck him. Fuck him. He was too good. He was receiving a fucking Medal of Valor, for fucks sake. After receiving his medal, his speech was clear and eloquent and touching – was that bitch crying over there?! She better keep her hands to herself!

His teeth clenched with the realization that Roman could just wade into the sea of his admirers and choose whoever he wanted. They would try their hardest to give him anything he wanted. Roman looked so heroic with his uniform and the gleaming medal he’d earned. He was gorgeous and nice and fair and caring and none of those hoes knew how fucking annoying he was as well. Virgil counted himself lucky that he knew, though.

But how did one keep the attention of a man so hungry for adventure and excitement if they couldn’t even stand to look at their own body after a shower? There were things that Virgil wanted, certainly. However, he was afraid of so many things that came with becoming Roman’s lover. The mushy, emotional crap for one: Roman wanted attention and flamboyant, public displays of affection and confessions and shit. That last one had nearly killed him.

Or the fact that he would have to tolerate being seen naked and his scars being touched. Having to expose his tattoo. Possibly even having to deal with the memories of the humiliation and pain he’d experienced. He had no frame of reference for consensual, healthy sexuality and he had the feeling, unlearning all of the crap he had put himself through would be bloody painful. He would try, though; for Roman. The issue was that there would be no comfortable, romantic lovemaking like Roman probably dreamed of. There would be a Virgil with body issues and an aggressive protection of his secrets and image and- and fucking moves he learned on the street. How did one fuck someone like a boyfriend? The fuck was the difference?

And how the fucking fuck did people learn to live with each other all day anyway? Didn’t they irritate each other? How was he supposed to go from ‘don’t touch me, you son of a bitch’ to ‘I love you so much, let’s spend every waking second together skipping through a field of daisies’? He didn’t want all that. He just wanted Roman. He wanted to touch when he felt like it, be comfortable when he was close to him and know he was happy and fulfilled and that he wouldn’t go anywhere. He wanted to claim him so that he would have the right to fucking bite anyone who wanted to hurt him. He wanted. He wanted so much. For most of it, he had no words. It was just this dumb, helpless yearning he felt all. The. Fucking. Time.

How was he supposed to cool it and strategize his next move when Roman sprung a fucking uniform at him? Did he have to be such a beautiful himbo?

“They sure look good, don’t they, kiddo?” Patton asked softly, wrapping his arm around Virgil’s without taking his eyes off the clean lines of Logan’s body where he was waiting for him as his partner shook hands.

“Hmm, guess so.” Virgil mumbled, keeping his gaze a little lower than Patton’s. He had no qualms about enjoying the way those slacks hugged the curve of Roman’s backside. He was hot. He better make sure none of his fucking ‘fans’ got too close. Virgil would hate to force Roman to arrest him for punching a bitch.

None of Roman’s fans got the chance to lay their greedy hands on him though. Logan, severe, tall and very intimidating, awaited him when he bounced down the stairs catching his partner as he lunged himself into his arms with a happy cheer. Logan also glared at the waiting crowd over Roman’s shoulder. He was a real bro.

Upon releasing the older detective, Roman excitedly grabbed his friend’s hand and dashed straight towards the other two, ignoring the crowd of reporters and dressed up hyenas.

“Tell me how fabulous I was!” He demanded, beaming at them. Virgil felt faint with relief. Roman only had eyes for him.

Throughout the celebration at their favorite pub, Rosa and Logan kept a close eye on him and discreetly scared away everyone who got too close or too interested. Only Patton and - he realized with warmth – Virgil, were encouraged to be close by at all times.

There had been no need to be afraid, as it turned out. Roman was eager to talk to Virgil, to include him in all of his conversations, to share his happiness with him. He was always polite and nice to everyone, but his attention always seemed to find its way back to Virgil. He even invited him outside – away from his party - when he felt the young man had had enough of the people around him.

The evenings had grown cold lately; Roman pulled his suit jacket off without asking and tentatively draped it over the narrow shoulders of the young man that had told him he wanted him. His Virgil. His wildcat.

His green eyes were filled with more awe than they had been when he had received the highest honor he could have ever dreamed of. Virgil didn’t shrug him off; the slender shoulders under his hands relaxed as he rubbed warmth into them. The light of the pub cast flickering shadows over the sharp cheekbones that had been so flushed with possessive anger during the ceremony. Roman had been barely able to repress his giddiness. There had been no misunderstanding Virgil’s jealousy. He felt so wanted, so beautiful and precious. The thief had made him feel those things too, he couldn’t deny that he had liked their advances, but this – this feral, defensive anger – it was the truest proof of affection to Roman. Virgil made his heart come alive. His feelings were real and raw and Roman – he was so excited, so happy. So in love.

He wanted to sweep Virgil into his arms and squish him to his chest in unbridled happiness. He wanted to clutch him close and gush about his love for him.

He wanted to kiss him.

Feeling the intense gaze on him still, despite clearly hoping Roman would stop looking at him so closely, making him feel so fucking shy, Virgil dared to look directly at him. He was still so anxious, the poor darling. Roman would coax him into his arms and make him yearn for his kiss. He wanted Virgil to want to kiss him so much he would pull him close with impatient hands. He would be a gentleman. And while he waited, he would continue to enjoy the exciting, hot feelings Virgil’s possessive anger gave him. It felt so good to be wanted.

After the party, Roman was bumbling about the apartment in a happy daze, humming to himself. Virgil slouched, heading towards the kitchen and started rummaging through the fridge for some snacks, badly needing to come down from an evening of glaring at his competitors. A content, quiet atmosphere was settling over the rooms.

The kitten had started mewling as soon as the door opened and ran towards them to be picked up. It eagerly rose onto its hind legs when Patton leaned down to pet it. Cradling it close, he breathed in the warm scent of the downy fur against his face, enjoying the way it rubbed itself against his cheek.

Only Logan was looking a little lost in the middle of the living room. He had received Nicodemus from Virgil and was now holding him safely in both hands, almost compulsively petting his downy fur with his thumb.

“You alright there, Lo?” Patton asked softly. The Detective’s eyes were dark and unreadable as he focused on the baker.

“Certainly. However… there may be an issue that has caught my attention. Considering my limited social competence. I have not been entirely certain how to approach the subject. The last thing I wish to do is offend or cause stress. However, Remy has advised me to discuss it, so…” The detective rambled a little awkwardly, holding on to the rat for courage.

It had been a while since Patton had seen him this nervous. His own heart fluttered a little with discomfort. He immediately wanted to help his kind friend out somehow. He just hoped he hadn’t done something wrong.

“You can talk to me, if you like! Is there anything I can do? Did- did I do something?” He asked, his voice growing feeble and quiet. His palms suddenly sweaty against the kitten’s silky fur.

Logan’s brows furrowed with worry as he observed the obvious discomfort he had caused. Roman briefly distracted him by wailing pitifully at not being allowed to touch the cheese sandwiches Virgil was grilling. There were far too many potential interruptions around here.

“You did nothing wrong, Patton. Please do not be alarmed. Would you be comfortable with discussing the situation, as I perceived it, in the privacy of my bedroom? So we may not be interrupted?”

Oh Tesla, he was blushing! Patton would come to think he had impure intentions with him! He worried about frightening him with his request as soon as he had made it. Perhaps he should have asked Virgil to use his room.

Indeed, Patton looked taken aback. Glancing at the corridor, he seemed to need a moment to gather his courage. Logan hadn’t seen him this anxious since they had managed to somewhat soothe his fears after the first few days of healing under his roof.

“Oh, yes. For sure!” He chirped, suddenly smiling brightly. The expression was lovely on his pretty face, yet it failed to reassure the detective. After all, he now understood how much Patton covered up with his cheerful expressions.

“Are you quite certain, Patton? I will not be offended if you feel more comfortable not being alone with me. We can invite Virgil, if you would prefer having him there.” Logan offered gently. He couldn’t help hurting a little upon making the suggestion. Patton had trusted him with his vulnerability so much in the past, yet now he seemed weary once again. He was grateful for his phone calls with Remy, his friend had prepared him for the likelihood of regression into old fears and habits.

‘Recovery is no more straight than you are, babe.’ He had explained.

“Oh no, it’s all good! I just want to fix whatever makes you feel sad!” Patton promised, perhaps sensing his sadness. He stepped closer, wishing to soothe the droopy expression on his dear Logan’s face. He looked anxious and hurt. The baker had little room for his own fear when his friend was distressed. He wanted to listen and comfort the gentle detective. Upon finding himself in a position of care and protection, it was easy to remember how badly he wanted to be the cause of Logan’s happiness.

“Satisfactory. However, I must demand you promise me to alert me if you ever feel uncomfortable. I shall not take anything you say personally.” Logan implored, trying to mean what he said.

The moment Logan stepped into his bedroom he realized he was in over his head. This space was so intimate and ill equipped to have a conversation between individuals of their currently uncertain personal connection. So much could go wrong! He didn’t have the social competency to pull this off! Where would Patton even sit? There was only one chair! Sitting on the bed together was out of the question for various reasons. He didn’t even know how far apart he should sit to give him enough space. What if he sat too far away and his friend thought him angry or odd? Of course, he’d have to be the one to offer a seat to Patton, it was only polite to do so, but if he chose the bed for him, he might think Logan would try something. There was the chair for him to sit in of course. It only permitted one person to be seated and was therefore the superior choice. However, the bright orange epidendrum orchid he’d propped up against it made sitting in it awkward and uncomfortable, since it spilled its flowers all over the backrest.

Logan started sweating.

“Excuse me please, Patton. May I just…” He mumbled, hurriedly trying to squeeze past the pâtissier without touching him while Patton stood uncertainly at the foot of the bed, waiting for Logan to make a decision.

After settling Nicodemus on the bed, Logan’s suddenly clumsy hands fumbled with the orchid as he tried to free the chair for Patton’s use, almost making him drop the flowerpot. A few pebbles of the fir bark the plant was potted in tumbled to the floor as he tried to squeeze the flower into a niche on the windowsill where the blossoms were draped over another houseplant for support.

Logan was suddenly, terribly nervous. “Verdammt.” He muttered, despairing.

“Hey there, it’s okay.” Patton cooed suddenly. His voice sounded gentle. “Come on, Logan. It’s all good.”

Patton’s soft, smaller hand wrapped around Logan’s clammy one and pulled tentatively. He couldn’t look at the little baker suddenly. Surely, he was disgusted by his sweaty hands and too polite to pull away. What was the social etiquette in a situation like this? Should he pull away? Should he excuse his behavior, or should he rather not draw attention to his shortcomings? He hadn’t felt this nervous about the other man in months. Why did he have to unravel so pitifully now that Patton needed him to be strong?

Patton’s fear seemed to have melted away entirely though. Calmly, he pulled on the detective’s hand and settled them both on the edge of the bed, facing the lush plants and large windows. His attention was entirely focused on Logan.

“There’s no need to be nervous, okay? It’s just little old me. You can tell me anything.” He promised softly. His hair fell into his eyes, softening the inquisitive look. He employed just the right tone, the right amount of contact, settled them at the perfect distance from each other. Logan was simply baffled at how easy he made this terrible, messy task appear.

“I don’t know how to do this correctly.” He confessed without having consciously decided to. The words just tumbled from his lips; coaxed out by the easy, trusting atmosphere Patton created without any effort.

“Do what correctly?” The smaller man asked without judgment or impatience. He felt like he could sit here and listen to Logan for however long it took. He seemed to unlock something in the detective that made him quite helpless to uphold his strenuously built control.

“My hands are sweaty.” He mumbled, realizing too late that his statement was neither an answer to Patton’s question nor did it relay any information he didn’t already possess, since he was currently holding said sweaty hands. It wasn’t even an apology. Suddenly his jacket was far too warm over his shameful blush. The baker took his change in topic in stride.

“That’s okay. So were mine a moment ago. I rubbed them on poor Nugget.” He confessed, nodding to the gray kitten rubbing itself on the stoically seated rat on the bed behind them. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Thank you for your considerate words, Patton. However-” Noting too late that it was probably rude to keep holding hands after acknowledging the uncomfortable condition, he pulled his hands free and wiped them on his uniform slacks with more attention than the task warranted. What had he been talking about?

“I wish to clarify- I mean - what I failed to convey is that the issue of my perspiration is only a symptom of the reason I am displeased with my shortcomings. I am afraid my request for a conversation has been worded in a way that might have caused you anxiety which is, in fact, the last thing I had wished for. My objective in asking for a private consultation has been entirely for your benefit. Yet I fear I have miserably failed, by forcing you to focus on my own needs once again.”

“Oh no! Logan, it’s fine. Please don’t be upset. I’m okay! I’m always okay. I don’t mind talking about what worries you at all. That’s what I’m here for!”

Kindly, Patton wrapped his hands around the awkwardly clenched ones of his friend, probably knowing he had been obsessing over what to do with them. After a moment of trying to pull himself together, Logan breathed a deep sigh. Patton’s hands were so soft. The pastel band aids on his fingers were covered with cute round bear shaped cupcakes. The even shape of his short nails gave his messy, anxious mind something to focus on. Roman had been cheerfully filing them yesterday after Virgil had refused him access to his bitten ones. Trying to breathe evenly, he rubbed his thumb over the back of the pale fingers rhythmically.

“Patton, would you be averse to a conversation about your constitution instead of my own? There is a … a concern I wish to address - if you would be amenable to do so. Of course, should you prefer to converse with Virgil or Roman about the topic, or not at all, I will not push you. I may not be the right person to offer an insight into emotional matters.” He rambled. He just couldn’t seem to stop showering Patton with his winding sentences and formal language even though he knew the distancing speech patterns were the exact opposite of what his friend probably needed right now.

A moment of silence made the detective’s worry skyrocket once again. Had he pushed too hard?

“What do you want to know?” Patton finally asked softly, adding “I’m fine. Honestly.”

Logan dared to risk a glance up at the baker’s lovely face, worried he had already backed him into a corner and made him defensive like both Virgil and Remy had warned him of.

‘You do come across a little strong sometimes, ya know, sweets? He trusts you. Just let your, like, nerdy, stiff charm do the work and make him feel, like, safe or whatever.’

Safe. He usually had no trouble offering safety to Patton except for the cases when he appeared to be the problem. How did he make him feel safe from himself when he didn’t even know what he had done? Virgil had noticed the issue as well. He had been so kind and respectful when voicing his own worries over Patton’s fear. He hadn’t been willing to place the blame on Logan’s shoulders, though.

‘I got that way too, sometimes.’ He had confessed. ‘Something in my head is messed up and then anything could set me off. Still does, sometimes.’

Tesla, Logan was grateful he had Remy to help Virgil deal with those issues. He couldn’t bear the thought of his little delinquent being left alone with his wounds. Unfortunately, Patton had no such professional help, so it fell to him to try.

“Are you comfortable here?”

Again, something about the way Patton made himself so accepting and approachable made Logan spill his thoughts without reflection. If the pâtissier wanted, he could play him like an instrument.

Patton stilled, looking startled. He pulled his shoulders up, immediately looking small and insecure.

“O-of course! Did I do something to make you think I’m not? I’m so sorry if I seemed ungrateful or made you antsy. I really didn’t want you to worry! You do so much for me and I’m very thankful! Everything you do is amazing and I couldn’t be happier! I’m really sorry for looking selfish! You really don’t need to do even more! I just- you can just ignore me and – and if there’s anything I can do to help or- or make you more comfortable-”

“Patton, please wait!” Logan begged, confused about the change that had come over their conversation. How had they come from his question to Patton thinking he was selfish for making Logan worry?

“I’m afraid I am not following. Please allow me to clarify. I am very pleased to have you with us. My worry is a result of my affection for you and does not inconvenience anyone in the slightest. You have no reason to apologize for being cared about. And you have never seemed ungrateful or have in fact had any need to appear grateful at all. I am not certain where I failed to communicate that my question was entirely caused by my honest wish to ensure your comfort. Your possible unhappiness is no reason to apologize at all. Your feelings are… what is the correct terminology? Your feelings are – valid, I believe. And I merely – I wish to ensure your happiness. I feel I have failed you in some way and I am not blaming you for it. Please, help me fix it.” He begged softly.

Patton seemed to need a moment to follow his long sinuous speech. Still, he tried to reassure him.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Logan! It’s all good. Please don’t ever worry about me! I’m happy! I’m always happy!” He claimed, bravely trying to smile at the detective.

Logan’s shoulders fell upon realizing that they were back to Patton pretending he wasn’t hurting. He always had a hard time figuring out the right path to take when his friend refused to cooperate. He knew his claim to be false, but how could he make him confess to it? He was fairly certain an interrogation was the wrong path to take. It would only frighten and isolate Patton, but even using the wrong tone – something he was very prone to – could cause the same effect. Stress made his heart race irritatingly. This was not in any way close to his comfort zone.

While he groped around for words – or tried not to use too many at once – Patton watched him with the attention of a small creature waiting for the chance to escape a predator. He didn’t miss the disheartened look.

Logan looked very lost and overwhelmed, suddenly. Patton had only meant to reassure him! Trevor had always been the most easy to handle when Patton had made sure his boyfriend didn’t have to deal with his annoying feelings of loneliness or fear or the issues he wanted to discuss. Taking the problems from him had been safest. Logan however, clearly had hoped for a different outcome.

Because he was Logan, of course.

As Patton waited for signs of aggression or annoyance, the understanding of his own actions dawned on him: With Trevor, fights had come over them like the tides. There had been a certain rhythm to it, to the dissatisfaction, the feeling of insignificance, the unintentional insult that caused the tension to erupt and crash over Patton. He had been waiting for the same thing to happen. Every episode after a fight had been filled with regret and roses and vows to do better. The time of reconciliation and wooing Patton had always, always followed a fight and had also always given way to apparent peace before the slow building of new anger. He’d learned to read the signs and brace himself and he had been doing the very same thing to his friends: To him, the way Virgil kicked Roman for trying to steal food; the passionate ranting between him and Logan; the demanding, loud complaining of Roman; and especially the frightening lectures Logan gave in return. They were all signs of a culmination of fury that would inevitably and painfully blow up.

They weren’t, though, and consciously, Patton knew this.

Roman was always this way. Ever since they had met, he had been insulted easily and claimed the world was treating him with terrible injustice or he’d tried to rile Logan up with his overwhelming physical contact.

Even since Virgil had come into his life, he had been dark and brooding and easily enraged by some political decision or economical problem and he’d always had been quick to retaliate against Roman’s attempts at closeness with playful, minor violence like a hiss, or a scratch, or an elbow to the ribs, that brought them into contact.

And Logan… Logan had always, always been an obsessive, stubborn man with a need for order and a habit for lecturing and ordering Roman around. He had always glared at him and threatened to have him adopted or make him eat, or grabbed him by the back of the neck or generally complained moodily about any and all messes.

None of those things had changed; neither of those moody, loud men had ever tried to be anything else. They had never been better than they were now and they also had never been worse. There was no hidden pattern to their behavior. Their coexistence wasn’t any different than it had been a day, or a week, or a month ago. Patton was just expecting it to be. He simply noticed the little arguments more, feared the consequences of the wailing more, and expected Roman and Logan to turn on Virgil for being an aggressive little thing.

None of their interactions were as malevolent as Patton had come to conceive them to be, now that he considered them through a more objective lens. Virgil might swipe at Roman and tell him he was a greedy oaf, but he blushed when he looked up at him and was so clearly flustered by the effect of the other man that he didn’t know how else to interact with him, lest he see his vulnerability. Though he tried to push and shove at him, he actually sought contact with the excuse of his physical arguments.

Roman on the other hand wasn’t fooled for a second. He kept goading and tempting Virgil to engage in their little play-fights with him to invite him closer. Sometimes they would argue until they laughed; sometimes Virgil would howl in frustration and tackle Roman onto the couch where they would both roll around until the young man’s nervous energy was spent and he would become soft and tired.

Neither was ever truly angry.

And Logan… his tone when he condemned the latest immigration bill was passionate and frustrated and it frightened Patton. He remembered the cold grip of sudden fear as the detective had leaned over Virgil’s shoulder to read an article he had shown him. His flare of annoyance had been directed at congress, but Patton had seen Virgil – his hurt, beloved kiddo – sitting so close and so easily harmed. He just couldn’t not be afraid for him when tempers flared. But Logan hadn’t been mad at Virgil and the barista hadn’t felt threatened. His arguments had supported the older man’s. They had both ranted at the same thing, united in their feelings, comfortable in their shared views. Yet Patton’s emotions had only reacted to raised voices in the room.

When had Patton lost the ability to see past the dynamic this group had always shared? It was like he was too close, too emotionally involved to see past the immediate flares of moods and tones and failed to see what had always been glaringly obvious before.

These men loved each other.

Virgil was so enamored with Roman, he seemed utterly overwhelmed. Roman simply melted at any little bit of affection he was given. In any of their harmless fights, his eyes shone with joy. Whenever Logan complained about his partner’s habits and behavior and untidiness, the dramatic detective seemed more at ease than before, knowing his friend was focused entirely on him. He preened and played and put on a show, knowing he was being paid attention to and looked after. And Logan and Virgil… had he ever really been given reason to fear? Though Logan was plenty grumpy with Roman, who was plenty intentionally annoying with him, he was never even curt with Virgil. Every interaction between them was respectful and even affectionate. Logan always spoke to him with that soft, that polite, articulate gentleness that was so special about him. His hands would find their way into Virgil’s hair every morning to groom him, since the young man apparently refused to use a hairbrush. He would ask about his day and encourage the young man to pursue his interests. Every meal the barista made was complimented earnestly and every contribution to a conversation was listened to. Those two were comfortable with each other in a silent, calm way Patton didn’t really have anything to compare it to. They would just sit next to each other and read and still feel like they were enjoying each other’s company.

And of course, the most prominent flaw in Patton’s belief that he had to expect to be hurt, was the fact that neither of them treated him anything like they treated each other.

Virgil was soft with him. He handed him the kitten and chatted with him more than he probably would with anyone else. He watched him with dark, worried eyes and sought contact with the wish to reassure Patton. He even offered to talk, despite not enjoying emotional conversations.

Roman was very open about his affection for Patton; he liked to hug him every day, style his hair and even pick him up to twirl him around and kiss his face. His smiles were always filled with joy when he saw him. The young detective was like an overexcited puppy with him, loving his attention and wanting everything Patton had to give.

Logan was especially kind to him, actually. His touches were the most respectful he had ever been treated with. When his hands touched his back to guide him out of a dancing Roman’s way or when he would gently tap his elbow to get his attention, Patton would even describe the contact as tender. His eyes were always warm when he looked at him and his hugs… the little pâtissier was hit hard with longing. He hadn’t hugged Logan in so long, just because his expectations had made him see ghosts in every shadow. His friend must have felt so abandoned. He knew Logan had trouble reading a room or understanding certain signals, but there was no way he had missed the distance Patton had created between them.

This was what he had meant with his question.

“Oh Logan, I’m so sorry!” Patton cried out, knowing full well his sudden mood swing would terribly unsettle Logan.

Seeing the man clearly now that he was actually looking, he realized how much he wanted to be with Logan again. He had lived next to him and had protected himself from the idea of him, based on the things that he had learned Trevor would do; but he hadn’t really connected to him in the last couple of weeks. His own illusions had cost him Logan’s comfort, causing him to be more shaken and saddened, which had made his fears worse.

He was such an idiot. So much misery, for nothing.

Blessedly, a bewildered looking Logan hesitantly opened his arms with a look on his face that clearly stated he had no idea if his offer was appropriate or not. Patton dove in.

A shuddering breath made him shake.

Another made him hiccup.

Logan seemed to react on muscle memory and wrapped steadying arms around the narrow body, squishing him to his chest and almost settling him in his lap. His hugs were never casual. He pulled Patton in tight and buried his face in his hair, seeming to envelop him entirely. Logan was taller than the baker, making it easy for Patton to wrestle his glasses off half heartedly and nuzzle into Logan’s shoulder. Warm darkness deprived Patton of sights, sounds and the sensations of the outside world. He was completely wrapped up in a living, breathing hold. Squeezing his eyes shut, Patton focused on the chest he pressed his forehead against, the rising and falling, the smell of freshly washed fabric. He wished Logan was wearing the dark blue, fluffy wool sweated he had pulled on yesterday. The one Roman had promptly snuggled against it, demanding his head to be rubbed. He actually wanted that too.

Hoping for the same affectionate treatment, the smaller man rubbed his cheek against the shirt. The hand that tentatively buried itself in the lush curls made all tension flow from his softer body. Patton sagged against Logan and sighed deeply, a pleasurable shiver running down his spine. It felt like stepping under the hot spray of the shower on a cold winter day. He couldn’t get enough. The telltale sensation of Logan searching for words and shyly breaking off before he had formed them made affection course through Patton. It made him want to shake his hands in the air and hop up and down on his toes. He was giddy with it.

“Um… would you, perhaps – for the sake of ensuring your comfort - like to lay down, Patton? Not to attempt any inappropriate activities of course! I am only proposing to change to a reclining position since Roman and Virgil appeared to be comforted by a prolonged-”

“Yes, please!” Patton chirped, immediately enamored by the idea. He was clutching onto Logan’s back so hard, the other had to be uncomfortable. He couldn’t seem to get close enough. Everything else was overwhelming, with too much light and too much noise. He wanted to curl up and be held, he wanted to be protected and hidden and he wanted Logan. Before he knew it, his friend had awkwardly maneuvered him onto the bed while trying to pull off his stiff uniform jacket at the same time. The moment his head hit the pillow, Patton was ready to disappear in this man’s arms. He shuffled as close as he could and felt so, so safe. Despite his sudden fear of the world around him, every breath brought him closer to tranquility. As long as he could stay in this position, petted and hidden and held just right, he could put himself back together.

Weariness washed over him and made his limbs heavy. His constant fear had exhausted him so. A deep breath felt weighted by worry and stress, and fell away as he breathed out, relaxing more and more with every exhale.

Logan, steady and patient and solid, held onto him and evenly stroked his head. Patton knew without looking that the detective had closed his eyes. His limbs were relaxing against his waist too, becoming heavy with relief. He seemed to understand there was no space for words for once.

Both men fell into a light doze and eventually drifted off to sleep.

Patton woke hours later to the dim, respectful light of the planet nightlights. Nugget had woken him with a harrumphing mewl. It flinched in its sleep and paddled its paws before falling into a snoring doze once again. Both the little kitten and the rat had settled down above his head on the pillow. Logan was still deeply asleep, soft and unguarded. His hair was spread over the pillow on one side and his glasses were squished over his face. Gently, Patton untangled a hand and pulled them off. Had he been any less sleepy, he wouldn’t have dared to just reach out this way, but as he pulled the frame off, Logan simply grumbled in his sleep and nuzzled back into the pillow. His arm hung limp over the slender figure curled close, entirely unthreatening. Very slowly, Patton settled back down and looked up at the sleeping man. The lights seemed to soften his severe features. Seeing him this vulnerable, Patton felt so, so much. His heart was so full, he could barely contain it. He was safe here with this man who’d never asked for anything but his trust and friendship, and he knew, despite the worry he had caused, that Logan would forgive him. He had forgotten all of this, and he feared his silly head might forget again, but even if he knew it or not, he wouldn’t be hurt or pushed away. He was home.

With the tiredness of his emotional turmoil still heavy in his bones, Patton fell asleep again before he could consider leaving.

****************************************

So this is where the boys are taking me. Interesting. I hope I’ll have the next chapter up sooner for you. It jumped me with some Logan angst, the bugger. Then, we will get where I actually wanted to go with the fancy uniforms!

ART:

We got art!!!!!! So excited I LOVE LOVE LOVE getting art!!!!!!! This lovely piece was made by my dearest @olcia46 (wonderful, beautiful human) and is utter gorgeous!!!!

Then @ravenclawunicorn1 created this amazing calligraphy of the title which I am utterly crazy about!!!!! I wanted to use it as a new header, but it turned out a little big. I am so awes by it, though. I’ll have to look as it a bunch more!

Not strictly art but super duper helpful for any readers who enjoy a visual: The comparison of the Sides’ heights in KHS (along with a post about their ages and such. Thank you @violetblossem

Next Chapter

#Sanders Sides #Logicality #Prinxiety #patton sander #Logan Sanders #Detective AU #Keep him safe #my writing #Eva writes

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