#❝ power isn’t determined by your size ❞ — visage

[gumpistol]

i'm still never getting over the fact that Luffy just chomps metal with his teeth and spits it out

[gumpistol]

@ryusokcn

cuteness aggression

[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ 32

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, eventual smut ➻ Word Count: 8.7k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

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✧✧✧ act four ➻ part seven

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“Captain won’t hurt him.”

You don’t need to turn to see who has just stepped in, but you do nonetheless at least for the smallest semblance of confirmation. It doesn’t make it any easier to see who stands at the edge of the tunnel, bright light cascading around his tall form and casting crude shadows across the floor as he walks closer to the group. You swallow around nothing in anticipation although nothing could prepare you for what Mingi says next.

“Because I’m the one going in there, not Jongho.”

“Absolutely not!” Yunho blurts without a breath of hesitation, hand jerking down by his side in a fist clenched so tightly that his knuckles go white.

“Mingi, how did you get here?” Seonghwa adds. This must not be according to plan for him to sound so bewildered, unless Hongjoong has truly kept him out of the loop but again that wouldn’t make an ounce of sense since Hongjoong spoke so adamantly about Jongho being the one to go in with him. So the only reasonable conclusion is that —

“I left the bunker.”

The only reasonable conclusion is, in fact, that Mingi has come to the arena by his own choice and volition.

“How the hell did you get out?” San interjects, pushing closer to Mingi with a hand stretched towards the man’s arm. Mingi merely blinks back at the shorter man without seeming surprised in the slightest.

“I knocked on the door and they let me out. How else would I have gotten out?”

“Why?” Seonghwa’s tone is nothing short of livid, and for a moment, you fear that his rage will affect Mingi in turn, but the Berserker manages to keep his steady expression with little effort.

“That’s my captain in there. That’s my captain who is about to fight, and that’s my crewmate who is taking the place that should be mine. Lieutenant, you said yourself that if he let you, you would take Captain’s place in a heartbeat. I feel the same way about Jongho.”

Feel. Mingi feels the same way about Jongho. It shouldn’t have as much impact as it does, but your heart clenches painfully in your chest and you blink at Mingi’s expression of determination with a certain sense of disbelief.  The anger on Seonghwa’s features melts away, replaced by some other emotion you can’t quite place upon first glance.

“I was there when they prepared this plan yesterday,” Mingi continues. “I heard Jongho and Captain discussing what would happen as a last resort. Captain had wanted to talk Vladimir down and make him see reason. But in the event that he was not able to do that–”

“He would put himself on the line,” Seonghwa finishes, gaze falling to the dusty cobblestone. His jaw shifts as he mulls over his next words, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head. “Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth.”

“Exactly. But Jongho doubted that Vladimir would take Captain up on the offer, didn’t think he would allow Captain to select his own opponent.” Seonghwa hums, a sound that is noncommittal and meant to fill the small lapse in conversation when Mingi finishes speaking.

“Vlad only accepted because he has something else in mind. He can’t trust Jongho not to go easy on Hongjoong or anything like that.”

“But… he can trust the Brute of Kebos to do his job. What that man wants is more than blood. He wants the Brute of Kebos in his arena because that’s what he can trust. And so, I must deliver it.”

“No,” Yunho mutters, head shaking from side to side almost violently. “No! This could ruin everything. Don’t you see that? All the years of progress, everything I’ve done, all of it–”

“It won’t though.” Mingi sounds far too confident. There is a sense of finality to his words, and even Yunho is forced to stop speaking and focus on what Mingi has to say for himself. “The second Vladimir sees me in the arena, the tide will shift. His plan will go out the window because everyone here heard what he said. He craves to control the beast. The way he exercises that power is through his hand. It’s just like my father. I have seen it time and time again, lived it time and time again. Vladimir wants to see Captain dead, and he will want me to deliver the killing blow. But when he puts that thumb down and tells me to kill Captain… I won’t do it.”

“You were — Mingi, there is no guarantee that the beast won’t take over the second you set foot in there. I am not attempting to doubt you, but the mere mention of this planet sent you into a frenzy not too long ago. You cannot possibly think that this will end differently or that you won’t be able to hold back!”

Perhaps it’s all on account of a ridiculous effort on Mingi’s part, but still, his expression shows no cracks. No faltering, no flashing in his red eyes – just the very same neutral visage that reminds you of a statue.

“You know better than anyone what I’m capable of, Healer. And I am capable of disobeying orders because I have done so once before. Have at least a sliver of faith in my abilities to protect my captain.” Yunho snaps his lips together, forming a thin line that nearly disappears into white, but he does not say anything else. Seonghwa glances between the pair in a similar state of silence for several moments.

“If…” He trails off before he can finish the thought, lashes fluttering as he looks upwards now. “If this is truly what you want to do, we obviously can’t stop you. Though this is – it’s a hard agreement to make.”

“Have I ever hurt him before?” Mingi asks. The question is not truly inquisitive, moreso rhetorical, but it causes Seonghwa is sputter and struggle to come up with a response anyway.

“I – n-no, not that I can recall.”

“In six years, I have not once laid a finger on Captain. Not in all those years of episodes and relapse after relapse. I know the circumstances are different, and I know you have no reason to take me for my word, yet I would still ask you to trust me.”

Seonghwa extends a hand all of the sudden, eyes coming down to meet Mingi’s with a flare of determination. Mingi seems just as taken aback as the rest of you but he is quicker to understand the intention behind the gesture, hesitantly stretching his own hand out to latch around Seonghwa’s forearm. The lieutenant squeezes hard at his skin as though putting all his emotions into that one hold.

“Then Mingi, I beg of you — please bring him back to me alive.”

“Understood,” Mingi murmurs through a small nod. Then his hand falls away from Seonghwa’s, and the latter man releases a shaky exhale, watching Mingi step around him and move down the same tunnel that Hongjoong and Jongho descended into not too long ago. Yunho must be too stunned to say or do anything in that very moment because it takes at least two minutes for him to even react in the slightest to what just transpired before him.

“Tell me you have simply lost your mind and you don’t actually trust him.”

Seonghwa reels at those words, and he isn’t the only one to be shocked either because they elicit a broken gasp from Wooyoung’s lips that is followed up by the sound of skin slapping skin, no doubt the man trying to cover the sound a bit too late.

“Explain to me why I shouldn’t trust him.”

“Because the last time he disobeyed orders, it was when his fucking father was in my clinic recovering from a near-fatal injury and Mingi murdered him! There is no guarantee that this won’t affect Mingi badly and no guarantee that the second Mingi sets foot in the arena, things won’t go to hell! The moment he gets the chance, he will kill Hongjoong regardless of whether he is Mingi’s captain or not.”

“That is my captain down there as well, Yunho,” Seonghwa seethes through gritted teeth. “You are a fool if you think I am not even the slightest bit worried as well, but I trust my crew.”

“You act like you’re the only one who gets to call him that. He’s my fucking captain too – fuck that, he’s captain to every single one of us.”

“Yet I would not sit here and watch him die in that arena. I would never do that willingly, and as such, that’s not what I am doing now. I am putting my faith and trust in Hongjoong’s word and in Mingi’s word.”

“You aren’t a fucking savior to him!” Yunho pushes forward and slams both palms against Seonghwa’s chest, knocking the man back several feet. He doesn’t fight back though; he just stands as still as ever and glares forward at Yunho with enough heat to make you shift uncomfortably from where you stand. Out the corner of your eye, you can see San taking a few hesitant steps towards them, hand outstretched towards Yunho’s arm. Just before he can stop the healer from doing anything more, Seonghwa lifts a hand – a stopping motion directed at San and San only. “You blindly throw trust in his face and for what? To turn around and spit at his feet when he actually needs you?”

“What can I do, Yunho? What would you have me do? Go in there and take Hongjoong’s place? Speak the word and I’ll do it!”

“Stop fucking around and be serious.”

“Stand down, Yunho.” The enunciation of the words sends chills down your spine. There’s too much evenness to his tone, too much steadiness even though his rage billows off him in waves. Seonghwa’s anger is far more terrifying than you could have imagined it to be, a cold and harsh knife that deepens in your chest. In that moment, Yunho seems to shrink despite being taller and larger than the lieutenant, and his size could not possibly hold a candle to the absolute power and control in Seonghwa’s disposition. “That is an order, not from your lieutenant, but from your acting captain. This is me being serious, and I will not have you endanger my crew because of a reckless and distorted sense of pride and narcissism.”

Yunho’s face is overtaken by a stark pallor as Seonghwa takes a step in his direction. A finger jabs into Yunho’s chest, and even though it’s only one, Yunho reacts in such a way that it seems like he’s been hit by some incredible force.

“You will learn your place because whether you like it or not, I am your lieutenant and in Hongjoong’s absence, I am your captain. You listen to what I say, you follow my orders, you do as told without complaint. And if you feel differently, then you should have jumped ship during the mutiny.”

Silence comes in response to Seonghwa’s cold words. All Yunho can do is manage a shaky nod before dropping his gaze to the ground.

“Now if that’s the end of your whining, listen to me. All of you. San, Wooyoung, Yunho, Y/N — you four will stay down here during the fight. Once Hongjoong and Mingi go through, the guards will close the gates. You will be allowed to stand by the gate and watch that way, but be wary. The guards typically don’t question it when crowd members come down because they assume it to be for a closer view of the fighting. On the off chance that they do ask questions, just say that: you want a closer view. Yeosang and I will remain with you all until Jongho returns so I can inform him of the plan, then us two will head back up the left-wing. Should anything happen, use the comms channel.”

“I… I need to be on standby for when Mingi takes the hyacinth but — well, I ideally need someone to go into the market and find me some supplies.” Yunho’s shoulders loosen a bit as he speaks, all the anger in his tone dropping to a state of calm once more. Seonghwa’s lips part to respond, but Yunho cuts him short and continues speaking. “If you truly want everyone to come out of there alive, I have to have supplies. I truly will not be able to help Mingi without at least something to help him throw up to get the root out of his system.”

“I’ll get it.” You turn to the source of the voice only to find Wooyoung stepping forward, hand still clasped tight around Yeosang’s, and through the panic on his features, you can see a bit of determination in his eyes. “I can’t watch the fight, and I-I would rather not even be present for it. Maybe I’m weak but I don’t have the stomach to watch that.”

“I’ll go with then,” Yeosang adds without missing a beat.

“No, Yeosang, you can’t.” Seonghwa shakes his head, causing a few strands of black hair to fall loosely over his forehead. “Vladimir is expecting the two of us to be watching. He will have his men ready to watch us and look for us. If he only sees me, or if he sees me with anyone other than you, it will be problematic at best. He expects Hongjoong to try something, but that doesn’t mean we should give him the opportunity to confirm that thought.”

“I can go with him.” You hardly realize that the words have come out of your mouth until all eyes turn to yours. A large part of you would much rather stay and witness the fight between Hongjoong and Mingi – just out of a sense of curiosity and fascination at what might happen – but you know that there are bigger things at play here which matter far more than your personal agendas. Even if you think solely out of logic, this is the best course of action. Yeosang wouldn’t trust San to go with Wooyoung, Yunho can’t go, and Jongho isn’t even back yet for some reason that you can only boil down to him and Hongjoong talking with Mingi. And thus that leaves you.

“Me too.” It’s San who speaks this time, although Seonghwa’s immediate response is a sharp shake of his head.

“You have to stay with Yunho and Jongho. Y/N can… she can go with Wooyoung. There’s no telling how long this fight will last, but knowing Hongjoong, he will try to drag it out as much as possible out of pride and to make seem believable. We can only hope that it’s enough time for the two of you to get what Yunho needs and hurry back.”

Your initial reaction is just to nod and turn towards Wooyoung, not bothering to face Yunho when he decides to speak again.

“I’ll tell you what I need once you two get further into the city. There’s an old supply shop not far from here, at least there used to be — if you can’t find it, let me know and I’ll try to figure something else out.”

“Okay,” Wooyoung says before pulling his hand free of Yeosang’s. For the briefest of moments, Yeosang chases after his retreating hand, but he pulls away before Yeosang can close his fingers around Wooyoung’s again. You glance away from the pair as the creeping feeling that you’re watching something you shouldn’t be sneaks up on you. Then a hand closes around your arm, burning the skin in a tight grip, and you jerk from the suddenness of the touch. It’s none other than Yeosang who stares forward at you when you turn to face the culprit, eyes wide and pleading. For once, you find no scathing hatred in them.

“Make sure he comes back unharmed.” There is something so raw and unadulterated about the way he utters the words, and it’s that very emotion in them that causes your throat to constrict a bit. He carries the same desperation that Seonghwa did when he asked Mingi to bring Hongjoong back alive, a desperation that runs deeper than love or adoration. You can’t quite explain it – it’s hard to even imagine something being stronger and deeper than love – yet you can feel it at that moment. More than that though, it pushes a new thought into your mind that you’ve never had before, one that nearly shatters you into a million pieces.

“We went to a fortune teller once – just the two of us before we even joined the crew or knew anything about pirates. To see my future, not Yeosang’s, but… when the woman looked into my future, Yeosang wasn’t in the picture. She said that we were not meant to be in each other’s lives. Our meeting was a mistake, and it was not what fate had planned for us. And as such, any attempts we made to stay close to each other would inevitably end in flames. All because the stars didn’t align for us.”  

How can one still fight so vehemently that even fate is against? What drives a person to be that desperate? To bear a desperation that would drive you to do absolutely anything to save the person you care about more than anything else? Was it that very desperation that drove Hyunwoo to take your place and kneel before the king prior to his death?

There won’t be hell to pay if Wooyoung gets hurt or put in danger; it’s what comes after that, what Yeosang might do in turn, what he might sacrifice to guarantee Wooyoung’s safety. That kind of devotion and commitment terrifies you — to love someone so much that you would lay down your life without a second thought to protect them.

“You have my word,” you whisper. And it’s not merely because he asked you to because frankly you don’t have many fond feelings surrounding Yeosang and the both of you know that you owe him no favors, yet here he stands, hand on your arm, pleading for you to do the job he cannot. You aren’t entirely sure why you agree with sure vehemence, but something compels you to, and the melting away of Yeosang’s panic adds to that stirring sensation in your gut.

“I don’t care for fate or destiny. I would rather it not exist, but I can’t deny the feeling that I get in my chest in those moments of intimacy. In a perfect world, I would get to call him mine without worrying about what fate has planned for us. But this? This is far from a perfect world.”

They are doing nothing more than the rest of every last sorry soul in the universe: trying to create what would be their perfect world. Fate has deprived them of enough. Who are you to take more from them?

When you pull away from Yeosang, the tightness in your throat has strengthened, and when you come alongside Wooyoung, you don’t miss the way he glances back at the Elitist. You cannot see the emotion in his eyes or his features, but you don’t need to to understand the hesitation in his movements. It is the same emotion you recognize in Seonghwa when it comes to Hongjoong. Back on Echidna when he pleaded for you to make sure that Hongjoong stayed safe, just now with Mingi, the haughty Lieutenant of Death begging for his captain to come back unharmed because he could not go in there to do the job for him. You can hardly imagine it — fearing for someone else’s life so much so that every time you part from them you have to treat it as though it could be the last. Well, you can imagine it because it’s a feeling you have always run from; one you ran from when it came to Jisung, and one you ran from when it came to San the moment it started blossoming. And with Seonghwa, you don’t feel that, you don’t fear for his life or what might happen if you are not around, and perhaps that is why you find yourself so drawn to him.

“Come on,” Wooyoung mutters. “The sooner we do this, the better.”

Merely seeing the way Wooyoung and Yeosang interact makes you want to run away, yet you find yourself turning just like Wooyoung did. Except when your gaze finds someone, it isn’t Seonghwa that you look towards. It’s San. San, the bright-eyed man with the cat-like smile who grinned at you on a military ship. The gentle man whose eyes seem to hold all the stars in the universe when he looks your way, the one who said he couldn’t bear the thought of you forgetting about him, who couldn’t dream of losing you before he told you he truly feels about you. The same man who looked you in the eye and said he would rather suffer pain to have you in his life than live a day without you. Gentle, kind, loving, oh so loving, San. As his eyes trail over your features, brows knitted together with concern washing over those deep brown eyes, you are overcome by a stark pang of fear in your chest.

You turn back to Wooyoung, struggling to push your legs into action and follow him out of the arena’s tunnel because each step feels heavier than the last. Walking away from San seems too much like a goodbye, even though you’re confident that you and Wooyoung will both be fine. The one thing you failed to take into account was that in your efforts to keep that flower of worry from blossoming, you forget it had already taken root, and now that you can so clearly see it reflected in the people around you, you feel its roots stretching deeper into your chest.

“How do you do it?” You murmur once the two of you are further away from the rest of the crew. Tall buildings rise up around the two of you, filling the void of the arena’s cobbles with its colored brick houses and buildings. It brings you back to when Yunho brought you here along with Wooyoung and Yeosang, with the glittering lights against the sunset sky and snow falling around your heads. The scenery now is far from that sense of peace — hard, bright rays of sunlight bearing down on you with a cold in the air so brittle that it bites at your skin.

“Hm?”

“How do you keep fighting so hard for Yeosang? When even fate is supposedly against you?” Wooyoung inhales sharply at the question, and you think you’ve crossed an invisible line for a moment. Life goes on around you, people bustling over the same streets that you walk with Wooyoung and minding their own business without a care in the world. He doesn’t respond right away, in fact, it takes quite some time for him to muster up even a few words.

“Because love is… I-I know I can’t, but sometimes I feel like I can outrun fate. And Yeosang – he makes me feel that way. I was a slave for as long as I could remember, that was my fate, they told me it was. They said I was destined to be nothing more than a slave, just someone to be used and tossed around until I died. Everyone in my life said that even the people who raised me. B-But a dumb little blond prince came in and… and h-he shot my chains and set me free. Yeosang changed my fate for me, and he did so without any hesitation. If he could do that for me — me, who was a complete stranger back then — then why would I not try to do the same for him now when we are so much more than strangers? Fate can do a lot of things, but it could never keep me from loving him.”

Despite the stutters and hesitation in his tone, Wooyoung sounds more confident about his words than anything else. You have never heard him speak with such conviction. You thought you had seen the extent of his resolve when he cut his hand open and told Yeosang that the man could not protect him from himself, but he proves you wrong now.

“And how do you find it in you to walk away in times like this?” Perhaps you are just searching to hear what he would do so that you know how you should cope yourself. What he says instead hurts far more than it helps, and you cannot even begin to think about having that same mindset yourself.

“Because I know that even if I were to die apart from him, we would find our ways back to each other in whatever comes after this life. I know that I have loved him better than I have loved anyone in my life, and despite all his faults and missteps, he has done the same for me. I can never be at peace with the thought of him dying before I do, and I’m confident that he would say the same about me, but I can be at peace with the thought of resting eternally in the knowledge that I gave him my all through thick and thin. That’s how I can walk away.”

“I…”

What can you say in response to something like that? You understand Yeosang’s desperation now because even if Wooyoung would be okay with it, he could never forgive himself for not being there in those moments. That makes your drive heighten, the desire to protect Wooyoung from if only to keep Yeosang from suffering a pain worse than death.

“Hey, you two there?” Yunho’s crackling voice breaks through the silence and tension hanging between you and Wooyoung.

“Yep, we’re almost to the trade district.”

“Okay, start looking for the supply shop. It’ll be somewhere on your left, The Quiet Peony, let me know if you can’t find it.” Yunho’s voice dissipates into nothingness once more, leaving you and Wooyoung to blink at each other without saying a word for several passing moments. Then the dark-haired man reaches down and catches hold of your hand, yanking you closer to his body. The action startles you, and you hardly realize why he is so urgent in his movements until you hear a loud clatter of metal resounding from behind you. A whoosh of air hits the back of your neck, one that feels a bit too much like the point of a spear for your liking. Wooyoung prevents you from turning around to examine your surroundings. All you can do is beg for answers in the form of a hushed whisper.

“What’s going on?”

“Guards. Look like Vladimir’s men,” Wooyoung mutters back, hand clinging to yours with more force now. “I think they’re just passing through to get to the arena.”

“Why is he bringing more men in? Could he already know about Mingi?”

“Seonghwa would tell us, wouldn’t he? Is it – no, no, they can’t have even started the fight yet.” Wooyoung glances past your shoulder as the rattling of metal continues. His tongue darts out to moisten his lips once, twice, three times. Then he brings his other arm up, lips pressing against the thin band around his wrist. “Hey, would you – could one of you please tell us when the fight starts?”

“Of course.” It’s Seonghwa who speaks this time, voice as cool and steady as ever, and his words confirm the suspicion that the fight has in fact not started quite yet. Wooyoung exhales a sigh of relief, then the rumbling steps behind you fade into the din of the city. He releases your arm after that and steps away from you, a bit of the worry creasing his features dissipating more with each passing second.

“Let’s just hope that it’s unrelated to the mission. Come on, I think I see what might be a supply shop over there,” you urge as you stretch a hand back out towards Wooyoung. He offers a quick series of nods. His hand slots against yours as he takes it, letting you guide the way through the lines of people. As you push closer to the row of buildings, the small hanging nameplates outside them come into view, and sure enough, one of those very nameplates reads in small uppercase letters The Quiet Peony.

“Yunho, we’re here, it’s here,” Wooyoung says into his wristband, and there’s more optimism to his tone now that you’ve found what you were looking for with little issue.

“Thank goodness,” Yunho sighs. Behind his voice, you can hear a clamoring of noise: loud cheers and shouts, applause that rings in your ears, a booming but unintelligible voice somewhere off in the distance. “Vladimir is announcing the fight and the rules. He—” Yunho’s voice drops at least an octave, if not more, as he hushes his tone “—he doesn’t know about Mingi yet.”

“What do you need us to get?” You press the question, urgent to get this done and over with so that you can return to witness the fight.

“Um, violet stems, cardamom seeds, two vials of pure lily essence, and a bit of pink peppercorn. Just things to help him vomit the hyacinth mixture. I’ve got some purified water in my emergency bag so I won’t be needing any.”

“And you’ve got a mortar and pestle?” Wooyoung inquires, obviously knowing far more about whatever Yunho is on about than you do.

“Yep, brought the backup.”

“Alright, we’ll – we’ll head in now.” Wooyoung hesitates though and refuses to budge from his spot outside the door. You think he’s waiting for you to make a move, but after a second you realize what it is that has him caught up. “Yeosang?”

“I’m here.”

Except it isn’t merely a confirmation of his presence on the line or in the arena. Wooyoung breathes out again, lashes fluttering as he shuts his eyes, and he almost seems to bask in the sound of Yeosang’s voice while he can. It rubs you the wrong way. Something about Wooyoung’s disposition is off, even if he isn’t showing the same signs of anxiety and worry that he was showing earlier. Still, you keep your lips pressed tightly together as he pushes into the shop, and you follow hot on his heels. There’s nothing for you to do once in the shop; Wooyoung takes the initiative of speaking to the shop over and requesting all the materials that Yunho listed off for the two of you. You just stand back by the door, wringing your hands together endlessly with a growing disturbance in your gut. Enough is enough when Wooyoung bows at the waist and pulls away from the man behind the counter. The second he faces you, you level him with a firm stare.

His throat bobs behind the metal collar clinging to his neck. Slowly but surely, he walks towards you, eyes not leaving yours for a second, then he motions towards the door.

“We should go.”

“Wooyoung,” you utter. A bit of a tremor slips into your voice.

“Y/N, we need to go. Now.” This isn’t the same man that you met in the med bay, the same man who was so desperate to follow orders with a high-pitched and panicked tone. This Wooyoung is far different — he doesn’t waver under the heat of your glare, and he bears a firm resolution to him. It feels entirely wrong. When he grabs hold of your arm this time, it’s to pull you out of the shop and back into the streets. The din resumes louder than before, and now you find it accompanied by your heart thrumming in your ears.

“The fight is starting now,” Seonghwa announces. The adrenaline pumping through your veins seems to reach impossible heights. “They announced him as Jongho, but it won’t take long for Vlad to realize who is truly down there in the arena with Hongjoong.”

Wooyoung’s grip tightens on you. You try to pull free of his grasp, startled by the sudden shift in his demeanor, but he’s holding you with a newfound force that you can’t get out of.

“Wooyoung, what the fuck is going on?” You hiss as you give up on your attempts to get out. He barely shifts to look back at you over his shoulder.

“I-I can’t explain. You won’t – it won’t m-make any sense. You just have to trust me on this, Y/N. We need to get back there as quickly as possible.”

“Wooyoung, you’re hurting me.” The words are only half true – mostly an attempt to get him to loosen his grip, but it backfires because he only clings to you tighter.

“I had a dream about this last night, Y/N.” Wooyoung’s chest heaves in an unsteady pattern. “I had a dream about the mission and everything that would happen on it. And everything I dreamt of is happening, it’s all coming to life. I dreamt that Hongjoong would offer himself up and that Mingi would be his opponent, and I dreamt that Hongjoong dies in there. I saw him die, but it wasn’t Mingi who killed him. Vladimir killed him – both of them – then he killed Jongho, Yunho, San a-and Yeosang. And after that? He captured Seonghwa and you and m-me, and he used that same squadron of guards who passed us in the streets not long ago to do it. I dreamt that we would pass them, that one would hit your shoulder and knock you to the ground, and t-that’s why I was able to stop them from doing that today. Call me crazy, but there are far too many coincidences happening right now for me not to think that that dream is coming true.”

Under any other circumstances, you would yank your arm away from Wooyoung’s and call him batshit insane. Now, however? The blaring sirens of panic and warning rampaging in your head are enough for you to take Wooyoung’s word for it. It may only be superstition, but you know that you never would have guessed that Mingi would come to the arena or that Hongjoong would offer himself to go down to fight. Yet Wooyoung seems to have dreamt both into reality. You don’t fight him anymore, not with your body or your words; instead, you let the man tug you back towards the arena with an increased sense of urgency to your movements.

A panic settles into your bones the closer you draw to the rising walls of the arena. It’s one that you have felt before — when you were scaling the walls of the palace grounds on Eros to stop the king from killing Hyunwoo. His form swirls to life at the forefront of your mind, the black silk hood cinched around his neck and covering his face even in his last moments. Again when you and Hongjoong were racing through Echidna in attempts to catch up with San before he did something reckless. Wooyoung’s mention of Vladimir killing San in his dream is not the only reason why his face replaces Hyunwoo’s in your head.

In all your time in the military, you never had to fear for Jisung’s life. You didn’t have to fear for any of your team’s lives, not until the end when Hyunwoo’s was on the line. Even when you were in jail for your crimes, you did not fear for them because they were your crimes and not theirs. The pain you felt when you learned that Hyunwoo was scheduled to die is the same pain you feel radiating through your whole body now. You aren’t there. If anything happens to him now, you can’t be there. You are too far away to get to San in time. Logic tells you that he can protect himself and keep himself safe, but sheer panic screams louder in the din of your thoughts.

Something stops you in your tracks. Wooyoung comes to a halt beside you, a startled and broken cry ripping from his lips. Everything happens in slow motion.

An explosion first. It’s so loud that your ears ring and your head throbs from the pressure of it. The both of you are staring directly at the source of the explosion, just through the tunnel leading to the main fighting ground of the arena and just past that gate that separates Hongjoong and Mingi from the rest of the crew. It starts and ends there, a cloud of sandy, pale dust billowing up so quickly that you have to duck your head to keep from choking on it.

Wooyoung tears forward. His hand drops yours without second thought. Someone is screaming through the earpiece, you can at least feel the vibrations of their voice, but your ears are still ringing too much for you to actually process what’s being said. Your legs work on their own accord and thrust your after Wooyoung.

Hongjoong. Mingi. Both in the arena.

How bad was the explosion? Everything happened too quickly for you to recall the extent of the blast, but it could be that the dust made it seem much worse than it was in actuality.

Jongho?

He would have been close to the gate with the others. With Yunho. You are angry with the healer, yes, but you wouldn’t go so far as to wish death on him.

Seonghwa.

He said he would be in the left wing with Yeosang. That would be far enough away from the blast, no? Surely it would be. Unless Vladimir’s guards reached the two of them first. Yet you can’t imagine that either one would go down easily.

San.

He was to remain with Yunho and Jongho. That’s far too close for comfort.

Please. You’ve never been one to pray, but if that’s what it takes for San to be okay, then you will do whatever you have to. Please be okay. You don’t care what kind of monster you have to become in order to keep him safe. It scared you before — back when you turned into a person you did not recognize in that warehouse on Echidna — but now you cannot find it in your body to care in the slightest.

As you burst into the tunnel, a body slams hard against yours. You are so clouded with panic and too focused on staring forward that you thrash against the grip on your shoulders.

“Y/N!” It isn’t San’s voice calling out your name, you know that much.

“San!” You scream out nonetheless, fingers ripping and tearing at the arms caging you in to no avail.

“Y/N, listen – listen, it’s me! Y/N!” You stop thrashing long enough to bring your gaze to the face of the man holding you. Blond hair fills your vision, panicked eyes wide and your throat nearly closes in on itself when you recognize it to be Yeosang. But —

Wooyoung was just in front of you. He is nowhere to be found now, not anywhere near Yeosang which is where he should be, and Seonghwa isn’t anywhere in sight either despite him being with Yeosang earlier.

“Se-Seonghwa?” You stammer through a few heavy breaths.

“He went straight to the source of the explosion.”

“Hongjoong and Mingi?”

“Hongjoong and Mingi,” Yeosang confirms through a shaky nod.

“Wooyoung. He – he went ahead of me. Did you s-see him?”

“No, I just came down the stairs. Seonghwa jumped straight down into the arena, but I got caught up in the crowds of people trying to rush out.” You couldn’t even focus on the people rushing around you and Yeosang until he mentions it, still high on the adrenaline pumping through your veins and leaving you dizzy.

“San,” you exhale. Your gaze falls over Yeosang’s shoulder again and stares deeper into the tunnel ahead.

“There’ll be guards ahead. Vladimir probably launched an emergency attack when he realized Mingi was down there.”

“And? We can’t leave them there.”

“No, I’m not saying we should. Just – just that we need to be careful.” Yeosang pulls back to hold you at arm’s length now, but his gaze isn’t focused on you. No, it’s shift to look back over his shoulder and down the tunnel that remains clouded with dust. There is far too much screaming from the crowds trying to rush out of the arena for either of you to hear anyone further down. Yeosang maintains a steady grip on your bicep as he pulls his gun free of its holster. You fumble to do the same albeit with much more of a struggle because your hands are shaking so badly.

Yeosang leads the way down the tunnel despite not being able to see far in front of him, and you stay close behind him, leaning to the side just enough to glance past his shoulder. The whole situation is horrifying enough but the whole concept of not being able to see or hear your crewmates makes it far worse than it already is. The two of you are only about halfway into the tunnel when a gunshot resounds. It ricochets and echoes throughout the length of the cylinder. Your steps come to a halt as Yeosang darts a hand out in front of your body. The barest outlines of bodies come into sight, dust beginning to disperse enough to expose the people inside the cloud. You can’t make out any faces, but certainly, some have to be your fellow crewmates.

“Move!” One voice rises above the others, and it’s one you recognize in a heartbeat. San. San, who sounds tired and out of breath and strained but still okay. Alive. More noises begin to resound as you and Yeosang push closer. The clattering of metal against metal for the most part – very sparse gunshots – along with a few shouts that are foreign compared to the voices of the crew. You can only hear Wooyoung and San in the mess, but there’s certainly more fighting than that going on, so you can only hope that Jongho and Yunho will be there as well when you finally push through the dust cloud.

And it’s with a sigh of relief that they do come into view, Yunho sprawled out of the ground with a gun in hand, and Wooyoung and San standing back to back both with spears in hand. They must have taken them from some of the guards because the guard standing across from Wooyoung holds the same weapon in his own hands, swinging the weapon in Wooyoung’s direction. Yeosang reacts before the dark-haired man can; his gun whips up and places a bullet in the guard’s helmet before he can come close to touching Wooyoung.

“Yeosang!”

Wooyoung nearly drops his weapon in favor of rushing towards the Elitist, but another metal-clad guard comes down on his left. Yeosang doesn’t have time to react this time. San does though, hand stretching behind him to snag the shaft of the spear before the point can sink through Wooyoung’s skin. He twists and slams the tip of his own weapon deep into the gut of the attacker. A grunt leaves his snarled lips as he shoves the guard back and plants a foot on the base of the spear. You and Yeosang came just in time to see the end of the fighting it seems; no other guards stand in the tunnel, just San and Wooyoung surrounded by a myriad of bodies with Yunho not far away. One person isn’t in sight though. Jongho.

San wipes at the base of his nose with his sleeve before turning to face you. Sweat paints his brow, dripping down the sides of his face, but as far as you can tell, there are no injuries or blood on him. Wooyoung and Yunho are in similar conditions, which is reassuring at best, but the lack of information surrounding the rest of the crew doesn’t let you rest easy.

“Seonghwa and Jongho went in for Captain and Mingi,” San heaves, mouth continuing to hang agape even after he speaks. “Seonghwa told us to wait here for them, but a squadron came in. Most likely will send backups too.”

“We’ll just have to be ready for a fight then,” Yeosang answers. He doesn’t push his gun back into its holster, but he does lower it to his side as Wooyoung rushes over to join him where he stands. You don’t have time to glance away before you catch the sight of their lips slotting together fervently, Wooyoung’s hands clasped desperately around the back of Yeosang’s neck. San moves towards Yunho’s reclining form, and he extends a hand to the healer before helping the man get to his feet.

“What happened?” You inquire, trying not to let your gaze linger on the carnage strewn over the cobbles.

“It took longer than we thought it would for Vladimir to react to Mingi being in the arena, but… everything happened really quickly after that. The fight didn’t last more than ten minutes at best. The explosion came from under the arena, no doubt a failsafe for Vlad to use in emergencies, but it wasn’t a true bomb. An electrostatic pulse meant to incapacitate. He has nodes lining the walls of the actual circle, and my guess is that they can conduct the pulses through them and send it throughout the whole arena. Still, any bomb of that size causes a big impact, and that’s why there was a sudden dust storm and so much chaos.” San brings a hand to his hair and combs through his sweat-slick locks. “No doubt that’s what is taking Seonghwa and Jongho so long. And a unit was probably dispatched to take care of them too.”

“Then shouldn’t we go in there and help out?” You offer, tilting your head to the side.

“It’s best to guard this entrance from further intruders.” Yeosang is the one to answer you. You peek over in his direction. Wooyoung clings to him like a vice and refuses to let his arms pull away from the blond for even a fraction of a second, and frankly, you cannot blame him at this point.

“Then we should—”

You cut your thought short out of the blue. Expectant eyes turn to you, waiting for you to continue what you were saying, but your mind goes elsewhere. A chill runs down your spine. A freezing cold sensation blossoms in your fingertips, spreading and spreading until you feel it down to your toes. Jerking your head, you glance back over your shoulder only to find nothing there except for the retreating backs of civilians who are still trying to get out of the building.

“Y/N? What’s goi—”

“Shut up,” you hiss, not caring to process whoever the voice belongs to. Nothing. Not the barest hint of a sound. A ruckus coming from both ends of the tunnel, but the air is completely still under the tension hanging about you in this part. Too still. You bring your chin forward once more only to test a theory. It proves useful because the second you face San again, a clink of metal resounds. Something rolls by your left foot. A small, round silver ball. Etchings all over the sphere. Two carefully carved initials into the side of the metal. Technology you’ve only seen from one person before.

You’re too late to kick it out of the way, and a gust of freezing cold smoke hisses around your body, filling the air with a new kind of dust that blinds you in seconds. All you can hear are the sounds of the others coughing near you. You think back to the letters that rolled across your vision.

HJ

Smoke bomb. Not just any smoke bomb — one specially crafted and made for reconnaissance and assassination missions. You would know exactly what their original purpose was supposed to be because there is only one person you know of in the entire universe who would sign his name off on a bomb.

Your body careens to the floor before you can think about it further, a force slamming so hard into your back that almost every ounce of air leaves your lungs.

“Jisung,” you exhale with the last few huffs of air in your body. The pressure on your back alleviates in less than a second.

Han Jisung.

Assassin, Spectre, reconnaissance specialist.

Talents: crafting special grade weaponry for missions.

Trademark: carving his initials into every single weapon he creates.

Han Jisung.

Jisung is gone.

“I swear on my life that I’ll never leave you.”

Gone.

“Promise me that you won’t.”

Here.

“I could never. I love you far too much to do that.”

Jisung is here.

“Did you miss me, Y/N?”

That’s the last thing you hear before something sharp digs into the back of your neck, and a strange warmth fills your veins. You don’t have time to think about what it could be because it sends you into a deep and intense state of unconsciousness within mere seconds.

…

The air around you is stiff and unmoving, cold as ice yet you don't feel goosebumps rising across your skin. A dark night sky looms above you with its scattering of bright stars. Near the center of the indigo sea lies a brilliant red moon; bright in its blinding color. Something about the scene is familiar, the clearness of the sky reminds you of something from your past. No clouds, no breeze, no sounds of nightlife.

It's a sense of complete and utter peace. Something damp seeps through your clothing, touching your skin and leaving you cold. You sit up and press your palms to the ground below you. Instead of meeting solid ground, however, you're met by water. It splashes against your legs, and you withdraw your hands from the surface in an instant.

Water?

You bring your chin up, glancing across your surroundings. It's a lake, a shallow one yes, considering that your legs aren't fully submerged and you seem to be placed in the middle of it. A chill runs down your spine. You know exactly where you are. The water beneath you runs black, and the enormous moon hanging in the sky is only present on one planet. It's only then, when you discern where you are, that you realize you're in a dream and not reality. You push yourself to your feet, nearly slipping on the slick mud beneath the layer of black water. A man sits at the edge of the lake, undisturbed and unbothered by your presence.

You wade through the water in the direction of the man. As you get closer, his features become more clear under the vibrant red moonlight. A familiar face to go along with the familiar scenery. He prods at the pebbles along the shore of the lake with a crooked stick, paying you no attention even as you splash water across the rocks with your steps.

“It's been a while since I've seen you, old man,” you greet, soft tone carrying through the air with ease in the absence of a breeze. The rugged form before you doesn't move. He continues to prod at the stones near your feet and pushes black water against your ankles. You wait a moment in the hopes that he'll look up at you and respond, but he still acts as though you don't exist.

“Daichi,” you try again in an attempt to garner his attention. It works this time.

His chin snaps up, a wrinkled face becoming clear before you, and blue eyes stare into yours. Piercing and cold, just as you remember from your last encounter with the aged man.

“Ah, Tsukio. There you are.”

✧✧✧ a/n: ignore that i haven’t fixed the banner yet that is a later problem right now it’s all about sURPRISE CHAPTER 32!!! WHATS GOOD?! jk um please dont yell at me LMAO yall about to be mad mad after this so save your anger for the next one WHOOPS!

taglist: @faeriewoobin​​ @sugarrimajins​​ @atinyinwonderland​​ @2504-life @lil7bluedragon​ @sparklychangbin​​ @jeong-uwu​​ @jeonartemis​​ @anothershorthuman​​ @xxbluestrifexx​​​ @haotheheckk​​ @noonawriter​​ @lostscenarios​​ @nlost21​​ @mirror-juliet​​ @okokokok123-45​ @purple-aeon​ @theoinkypiglet​ @toothlessshiber​ @atinyarmyx1​ @simpforhyunjin​ @hwangwoosan​ @vampire-jimin​ @softyubi​ @drumboydowoon​ @chatsgotmytongue​ @just-a-starfruit​ @babydolljo​ @scintillating-souls​ @khjssss @felixity​ @rawrrainn​ @hewwo-from-the-other-side​

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

[toraashi]

princess au ft. chuuya nakahara prt 2

Title: Untitled Princess AU prt 2

Pairing: Chuuya Nakahara x Fem!Reader

Warnings/Genre: fluff, swearing, horribly written ending and lots of cringe, nothing bad though. Um also aristocratic standards of beauty are mentioned rip

Word Count: 2,221

Author’s Note: I must’ve gotten hella tired when I originally wrote this because the ending is literally garbage but I don’t want to edit it right now, so here it is for you. Love you all thank you for joining Chuuya princess AU brainrot hours

 She stumbled out of the carriage awkwardly, desperately grabbing her escort for balance. 

“Oi!” Of course, the unsuspecting ginger was caught off guard as she tumbled to the ground. 

“My lady!” The driver exclaimed, but was shot down by the bodyguard’s sharp glare. With a huff, she stood back up, brushing off her dress.

“I’m definitely not suited to this life. Chuuya, why do I have to go to every single damn ball my father is invited to?” The man chuckled.

“Something tells me you’ve been around the staff too much.” He held out his hand, eliciting a soft blush. 

“Look, Chuu-Chuu, I can walk by myself.” 

“Clearly not, and make sure you don’t call me that in front of anybody.”

“Why? Does it embarrass you? Chuu-Chuu! Chuu-Chuu-” With a low growl, he scooped the shorter being up, tossing her over his shoulder and twirling around.

“Shut up! You sound like a goddamn train!” The girl squeaked, giggling as he tickled her sides. The entire scene was entirely unprofessional and illegal, but adorable nonetheless. The duo couldn’t help themselves, for each time they approached each other, explosions equivalent to bombs exploded in their hearts. 

How unsightly.

The king’s right hand flitting around with his liege's daughter.

Upon setting her down, she rested her hand on his elbow, allowing him to walk her inside. 

“Erg. These pins hurt my head.” Before she could reach up to yank them out, her loyal bodyguard caught her gloved hand. 

“The boss won’t be too happy if your hair’s all wild and out, you know.” Pouting, she whined,

“I know, Chuuya, but I hate it!”

“Yeah, well, you’ve got to do it. No prince is gonna want a princess who is all messy.”

“But what if I don’t want a prince?” Her murmured words were enough to cause his breath to catch in his throat. They both knew what she was implying, but it was all for naught.

“[Name]-” 

“Don’t even start with me. I already know.” With a reluctant sigh, he squeezed her hand reassuringly.

“Are you walking me in?” the redhead huffed, an endearing pink stain coating his cheeks.

“No! That’d be inappropriate!” She fell silent before murmuring,

“I don’t feel comfortable walking in alone. Besides, you’re my bodyguard. It’s no secret that my father is very protective of me. How is it inappropriate?” 

“Because a suitor is supposed to walk in with you!” his hissed words were strained as if he was struggling to form them.

“Introduce yourself as an executive then! I’ve never had to announce myself like this before, Chuuya. Please?” The male hesitated, falling prey to her vulnerable tone and visage. He gave in before he realized it, adjusting her precariously placed tiara and holding out his arm. 

“The things I do for you…” Gingerly, the princess placed her gloved fingers on his arm. 

“Like this?” With a softened gaze, he nodded, walking her up the vibrant crimson carpet. Each movement felt like he was trekking through an endless swamp of cement. Chuuya had no idea how this was going to reflect on his flawless track record, but in his heart, he knew he'd do it a thousand times over if it provided her with some semblance of comfort.

They approached the inner door, a pair of servants swinging them open at the sight of their invitation cards. The ballroom below them was exceedingly elegant, chandeliers glittering of the vast, domed ceilings, gold lining every rampart and ledge. Intricate paintings and murals were displayed above them, and the pair was awestruck at the magnificence. They tentatively walked forward, revealing the majority of the guests, who were all gazing up at the balcony expectantly. The shorter being beside him stiffened with anxiety, her delicately placed hand shaking on his arm. He strode confidently up to the announcer, speaking each word for his charge.

“Princess [Name] of Yokohama.” The weasel-faced man cast him a strange look, but turned, clearing his throat and bellowing the words.

“Her royal highness, Princess [Name] of Yokohama.” the room applauded, but Chuuya could sense the gossip formulating at the oddity before them: King Mori’s heiress attending with her simpleton bodyguard. Chuuya tensed, resisting the urge to protectively leap in front of the lovely lady. 

The walk down the grand spiral staircase was worse than the walk up. All eyes were tracing every movement they made, and it was clear that the attention was searing [Name]’s nerves. After years of constantly being around her, he had learned to recognize what each finger twitch she made represented. 

“Ah! My lady!” A tall blond man approached them immediately after her crystal slippers made contact with the marble floor.  “You look absolutely ravishing in that gown, has anybody ever told you that?” [Name] gave a tight, polite smile.

“Lord Steinbeck. I’m sorry to say that you’re not the first. A very handsome man told me moments before we arrived.” Chuuya felt a smirk touch his lips and desperately tried to hide his oncoming smug expression. 

“Really? Another suitor, perhaps? Surely you rejected him in that feather-soft tone of yours.” 

“Surely.” The male drew closer, dangerously close.

“My lady, what would you do if I proposed you send your “escort” away while I take you around the palace?” Any stray eavesdroppers would surely not think much of Steinbeck’s proposition, but Chuuya knew exactly what kind of man he was and what “touring the palace” really implied, and it made his temper snap.

“Oi-”

“Well, I’d probably reject you in my fancy feather-soft tone.” Steinbeck looked sincerely shocked.

“Hm? You’d rather be constantly hounded by your father’s lackeys all night long?”

“U-uh… of course not! You know that very well, Steinbeck.” His icy blue eyes were blown with pride and mischief.

“I knew you’d relent, princess.” Chuuya felt a growl rumble in his throat, his eyes burning with rage when he lugged her away from him.

“Oi! What the hell do you think you’re doing?! You don’t get to do that.”

“Oh? And what say do you have in the matter?”

“Last I checked, it’s my duty to protect the princess, and you don’t seem to have any good intentions in mind.”

“I sense that there’s a bit more to the story,” he smirked deviously, “Isn’t there, Chuuya Nakahara? Escorting a dignified lady, not to mention a princess is a far more intimate action than a bodyguard and executive should partake in.” The man’s fingers trailed a sensuous path down her smooth skin, but she pulled away.

“I did not ask for your affection, My Lord. The affairs of my kingdom are most certainly none of your concern. Perhaps you do things differently in your department, but my staff is eternally devoted to my father and me, so this ordeal is hardly out of the ordinary. I strongly suggest you educate yourself before you make such a bold and faulty accusation.” With a fiery glare, she turned and marched off, her skirts rustling behind her. As was in her nature, she tripped over the indigo hem of them.

“Damn these skirts!” Chuuya quickly recovered from his burst of fury, rushing to her aid.

“It’s unseemly to curse in public, My Lady.” He murmured, balancing her.

“It’s also unseemly to insult my father’s prime business partner’s cousin, Chuuya.” A scoff burned his throat. 

“As if I’d let him taint you like that.” 

“Only him?” Her voice suddenly got timid as she swept herself into a nearby love-seat, running her delicate fingers over the gold embroidery.

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” She flushed, “Eventually it’s bound to happen, you are aware, right?”

“Maybe so, but like hell I’m gonna let it be with some nauseating bastard like Steinbeck.” A small smile colored her cheeks.

“It’s unseemly to swear in public, Chuu-Chuu.” 

It’s unseemly to make me fall for you this hard. He thought, turning his face to hide his minuscule flush.

Throughout the course of the ball, many a man asked for a dance, but she deftly refused all of them, lounging in silence with her red-headed companion. 

“[Name], you need to accept someone.”

“You know how dreadful I am at dancing!”

“So?” She let out an exasperated groan.

“I’m not suited for these sorts of things. I’m not elegant like those duchesses and queens. Not to mention I only seem to feel comfortable around you.” Chuuya felt his heartstrings tug. “Chuuya?” 

“Yeah?”

“Have you seen my father anywhere?”

“No, surprisingly. He’s likely treating Elise.”

“Then I have a proposition.” Training his eyes on her, he examined her determined expression. “Let’s go somewhere else.” 

“[Name]...”

“Just somewhere quieter… please, Chuuya?” His name on her tongue was like a choir of angels to his ears, and with a relenting sigh, he caved.

They finally stopped in the vast library, books lining each wall, a cozy fireplace surrounded by expensive sofas. Normally she’d run her hands over the spines of the novels, gushing about her favorite ones with endless delight, but instead, she tugged him into an obscure corner, looping her arms around his body.

“Chuuya…”

“I knew there was more to this escapade.” 

“Please. Just let me hold you. I know this is taboo, but we’ve known each other for our entire lives. I can’t ignore the feelings I’ve developed for you. I know you feel it too, so please, indulge me just this once. I love you. I love you.” Her grip around his waist tightened in sheer desperation, and the urge to kiss her was more powerful than ever. Her sweet vanilla scent pervaded his nose; her warm body was the perfect size for his arms to wind around. 

“This is impossible.” 

“I know, Chuuya!” Warm wet splotches seeped through his shirt, and the male lifted her tear-stained face, gazing intently into her honey-sweet optics with his fluorescent sapphire ones. 

“Chuuya?” He felt frustration, despair, and endless longing contort his soul. She was so close, yet so far.

“Princess.”

“I want you to kiss me.”

“I can’t.”

“Please, Chuuya.” Her soft words seared his mind with white-hot streaks of temptation. “I don’t care about propriety anymore, please, Chuuya.” Her face grew dangerously close and he could feel her minty fresh breath waft over his face. 

“[Name]...” Finally collapsing, he let his mouth capture hers, but he quickly got caught up in her and her taste. His hand flew to her waist, the texture of the gown silky beneath his fingertips. Leaning closer, she placed her hands on his firm shoulders. Suddenly, she bit down on his bottom lip, fingers sliding up his neck and into his ginger locks. Chuuya involuntarily groaned, backing her up against the wall, his kisses gradually growing rougher. Stringing through his hair, the girl in his arms knocked his hat off, letting out breathy moans. As if against his will, his mouth moved down, smooching a trail of fire down to her jaw.

“God, I love you…”

“Chuuya…” As he showered her in affection, he let his endearment for the princess pour out in waves. As wrong as he knew it was, the sensation of being kissed by someone you loved was euphoric to him. The way she whispered his name was honey to his ears. 

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”  They split instantly, but Chuuya still rested his hand on her shoulder protectively. 

“Steinbeck.”

“I suppose I was right in thinking something more than a platonic relationship was blossoming between you two. A princess and her father’s right hand, how scandalous.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” The man gave a sardonic smile.

“Wouldn’t I?” Chuuya growled, stepping forward with less than proper intentions.

“Wait!” Both men glanced at her questioningly. “Don’t endanger him, please. I’ll get my father to accept your marriage proposal.”

“No. I won’t let you wed this scoundrel.” With a melancholy smile, she whispered,

“You’re not my father, Chuuya.”

“But it’s my job to watch over your stupid ass, and I’ll kill him before I let him even touch you.”

“Chuuya-”

“All right, I accept, but any tricks and your secret romance will be mercilessly exposed.” The ginger shoved the girl behind him, fury burning in his veins.

“Over my dead body.”

“Is that so?” Chuuya seethed at his words. “If you even touch me, you’ll create an enemy out of a business partner.”

“It’s not worth it, Chuu.” 

“You are worth it.”  Her breath caught.

“You’d lose everything.”

“You’re everything.” A chuckle escaped her smooth lips.

“Exactly.” With an unsatisfied and murderous glare glazing his crystalline eyes, he reluctantly backed down.

“Then it’s a deal? I guess that means we’ll be seeing each other tomorrow, correct? Without your brainless bodyguard, of course.” In an impulsive burst of adrenaline, Chuuya glowed red, sending a bookshelf tumbling on top of the blond. 

“Chuuya!”

“What? He valiantly saved you from the falling bookcase. Why’re you crying to me?” She was stunned, her [e/c] eyes wide and her hair falling out from its precarious updo. Her shining tiara was lopsided and she smiled. It was such a lovely smile and Chuuya could hardly believe that he was lucky enough to see it every day. 

“Chuuya, I know this isn’t safe, but I want to make this work with you, will you at least try?” And with that one sentence, their lips were pressed together once more.

MASTERLIST

Request Here!

[jootsmcgoots]

MBC Selfshipping Prompts #1: First Dates (Risotto Nero)

WOO BOY so Haley started a weekly Selfship Prompt event over at MBC, and I wanted to write it out! And so I did. 

Mind you, this uses my self-insert, Niko, so it’s going to be using that name and female pronouns. This work got away from me, so it ended up being 2422 words (even when I meant for this to be less than 2k words......lmaooo...)

I will get around to posting my reader inserts soon, but not yet LOL I’ll get around to it when I get around to it. This blog is still very much a WIP because I still need to re-reblog a LOT of content from the old blog.

But for now, this is what I’m writing and I wanted to post it up. I may write another for Mista, but we’ll see (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

So as the title implies, this is the first of the prompts, and it’s “First Dates”.

Niko let out a yawn as she sleepily looked out at the busy street. Her eyes scanned the droves of people walking around, trying to scope out her target. Dark eyes blinked as she studied the faces of men nearing her, trying to determine if they were the one she was looking for. When they passed by her, she shrugged internally.

Her phone’s clock read 10:47 AM. She knew they agreed to meet around 11, but it never hurt to be early. “And anyways, better to be early than late, right? Right.” She still couldn’t help getting bored easily, and the anxiety and tension building in her chest continued to rise as the seconds passed.

“Calm down, calm down,” she thought to herself, “It’s just a date; you’ve been on dates before! Just treat it like you’re just hanging out with a friend.” Niko let out the breath she was holding and took her phone out, idly browsing it in order to distract herself. “Plus, it’s Mimi’s brother. There’s no way he’d be the bad kind of sort. She wouldn’t set us up if she thought we weren’t going to get along.”

Still, she had to admit she was surprised when her friend made the suggestion and arrangements. Niko recalled as her friend more or less pushed the aquarium tickets into her hand and snatched her phone to punch in her brother’s contact info.

“It’ll be nice, I promise! He’s a really great guy, and I think you two will hit it off!” Mimi flashed the smaller woman a grin. “Plus, he needs to get out more often.”

Niko’s mouth formed a slight line as she remembered how she had asked her friend for a photo of her date, but Mimi’s grin only grew with amusement.

“Oh, don’t worry about that! You’ll know when you see him.”

A noise of annoyance escaped Niko’s throat. “Dude, what does that even mean?” Her brow creased as she tried to think on what that could have meant, but quickly gave up, deciding it was too much effort. Her eyes absentmindedly left her phone screen to scope out her surroundings again.

Except her eyes bugged out as they fell on a large, foreboding man in dark clothing who towered over most if not all of the other people walking along. Whether by his size or presence, people seemed to naturally get out of his way as he continued making his way down the street. Everything about him exuded a quiet kind of power, from the way he walked, his stern expression, his hulking, muscular frame…

Though she remained completely stock-still, Niko shook her head inwardly. “No, no, maybe it’s not him! Maybe it’s just your regular, big, muscular, scary-lookin’ dude with fucking black sclera and red eyes, just walkin’ down the street for a stroll! All decked out in black and has the kinda expression that says, ‘hey so if you piss me off, I’m going to rip your limbs off’! Totally normal! Yeah! Hahaha!”

However, despite the thousands of thoughts going through her head at miles a minute, Niko knew. Now she understood what Mimi had meant by “You’ll know.” When the man stopped in front of her, it was undeniable that this man was indeed her date.

She could feel red eyes roving over her, studying her. If looks could kill, Niko felt like she would have been smote where she stood from the intensity of his stare alone.

Risotto’s unblinking crimson stare studied the woman before him. She certainly matched the picture and profile his sister had given him. Petite and girlish stature, short black hair that swept to the right, glasses, gold studs in her lobes, everything matched. He noted how she was sporting a mint green frog backpack, just like she’d specified she would so that he could recognize her easier. How thoughtful of her to suggest that in the first place. He couldn’t deny that he appreciated the consideration.

He was an observant man and was well-aware of his perception skills. After all, it was an invaluable skill in his line of work. However even without his sharp senses, there was no missing the look of surprise, awe, and slight fear in his date’s flabbergasted visage. Her eyes were wide, brows raised to the sky and jaw slack, lips seeming to form the beginnings of “Oh my god.”

Risotto let out a nearly imperceptible huff of amusement. His sister was right; this woman’s face hid nothing. He couldn’t help but smile a little at that candidness.

Introductions were short and awkward, but they served their purposes. Once acquainted, the pair could proceed with their date. Their itinerary was rather basic, just go to an aquarium and get some food together. Simple enough.

However, conversation was rather sparse as they made their way to their destination. Without any prior knowledge or known common ground, Niko was unsure of what to talk about, and Risotto was a taciturn individual by nature.

He didn’t dislike the small talk that she was trying to make, asking him things like what he did, what his hobbies were, but it required him to think carefully about his responses. It wasn’t exactly appropriate to vent about how little you were being paid to kill people on a first date.

What were you even supposed to talk about on a first meeting like this anyways? It had been far too long since he had tried connecting with someone new, let alone someone not affiliated with Passione. Though Risotto’s face remained as placid as ever, worry and nerves began bubbling beneath the surface as he picked up on the traces of worry and discomfort on his date’s face, and he wracked his brain for more to say.

He wasn’t alone, though; Niko hardly ever met people like this, usually having some common ground with new conversational partners. Here, she had absolutely no idea. Inwardly, she cursed Mimi for putting them in this awkward situation, wishing a thousand poxes on her friend’s house.

=====

“Eh? You set them up on a date?”

“Yup!” Mimi replied cheerily.

“And it’s a blind date, you said? And she doesn’t know what he looks like?”

Mimi hummed an affirmative as she snuggled up against her boyfriend’s shoulder, black nails clacking against her phone screen as she browsed. Though Kakyoin’s eyes hadn’t left the screen and he had continued dutifully chaining combos, his brows raised in surprise as he made a considering noise.

“Oh dear. She’s in for quite the surprise then.” As the victory logo flashed on screen, he leaned down and planted a kiss on her forehead and smiled warmly at Mimi.

“That’s evil. I love it.”

=====

Arriving to the aquarium was a relief and a salvation to Niko. At least now they could busy themselves with an activity, and that would give them something to do together. Slowly, their conversation became less stiff and stilted, as Niko began prattling off about the various exhibits they toured together. Bit by bit, she continued to come out of her shell as she pulled him from room to room, and by noontime she was babbling nonstop about the penguin feeding exhibit they had just been at.

“…and god, they were just so damned cute!” Her eyes glittered at the memory. “Fun fact, did you know that there was this one penguin that fell in love with an anime character? I’m not kidding!” Niko nodded as Risotto tilted his head at that statement. “Yeah, yeah! His name was Grape-kun and he uh…” Her words petered out, and her expression turned sheepish.

Risotto raised a brow, unsure of why she stopped. “Is something wrong?”

Niko fidgeted in silence for a moment before answering. “I…I just kinda realized that I’ve been dragging you from place to place, and I’ve just been rambling non-stop. It’s – it’s not that…it’s okay if you’re just not one for talking. I totally get that!” she said, waving her hands in front of her before wringing them worriedly. “I just wanna make sure you’re having fun too. Like, I just hope I’m not talking over you or only doing the things I wanna do, y’know?”

She looked up at him to meet his stare. Embarrassment was racking up by the second, and as she was going to open her mouth, he spoke.

“I’ve been enjoying myself.”

Relief flooded her senses. Niko smiled at him as she registered his words, her expression relaxing into something much brighter. He couldn’t help but mirror the expression, even though the corners of his mouth had barely turned upwards.

She clapped her hands together as a thought seemed to dawn on her.

“I know! Was there anything in particular that you wanted to do? Anything here that you were looking forward to?”

At that, Risotto’s eyes widened just the tiniest bit, but Niko had caught it. “There is, isn’t there?” she probed with a mischievous grin. “C’mon, tell me! I’m sure it’ll be nice.”

He averted his eyes, and she chuckled good-naturedly at his sudden shyness. “C’mooon, tell me! We already came all the way out here, so if there was something you wanted to do, let’s go and do it!”

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t turn away from her expression, bright and shining like the sun, with no escape. Risotto let out a mumble, still unable to look her directly in the eye.

“Mm? What was that?” Niko tilted her ear towards him.

“…the manta rays.” He repeated himself, barely louder.

She made the connection in seconds. “Oh! The petting pool with the manta rays!” Niko threw him a grin as he nodded. “Yeah, I gotcha! Let’s go!” And at that, she immediately set off before stopping short and looking behind her, waiting for him. “Come on! It gets really crowded, so let’s head on over.”

The petting pool was a popular exhibit, and it was already full of people, children and adults alike, all fawning over the adorable manta rays that practically jumped out of the water for a petting. Though his face remained as stony as ever, the sparkles in Risotto’s eyes exposed his excitement as the sounds of splashing drew nearer and nearer.

Niko let out a giggle. How cute.

However, he just stood there, staring out at the pool that was so close yet so far. Maybe he felt put off by the number of people there.

Taking matters into her own hands, Niko tried to lead them closer to the pool, but found that the droves of people who were already there difficult to navigate. She managed to bypass a few of them, but soon found it hard to actually get near the exhibit. Her lips curled to the side in annoyance as she tried to think about how to get to the exhibit.

Then, she felt someone take her hand. Niko looked up in surprise to see Risotto by her side, taking her hand gently as he began to wade through the crowd with her in tow, people parting as a hulking 6’8” man strode over to the manta ray pool. No one there decided that it was worth getting in his way, especially as he occasionally let out quiet, polite “excuse me, pardon me”s as he made his way over.

As Niko followed him through the crowd, she had a thought. Throughout the date, he hadn’t tried to make contact with her at all. Now that she thought about it, he had kept a respectful distance from her the entire time.

She let that fact wash over her as they approached the pool. Manta rays were swimming serenely through the clear water, occasionally breaking the surface of the water, excited for more pets.

Risotto had already dipped his hands into the cold water, gently stroking the creature as it passed by. A soft smile graced his features, dimples forming on his cheeks.

The sight was something Niko wanted to commit to memory.

Noticing that she had yet to join him, he removed his hand from the pool to look at his date. What he was met with was a soft, nearly reverent look on her face, dust blushing her cheeks. Upon realizing that he was looking directly at her, Niko gave him an awkward grin, hastily kneeling down with him to start babbling about how cute the rays were.

“…sorry.”

That cut her ramble short. “Huh? About what?”

“I should have asked first.”

His heart was thrumming in his chest as he searched her expression for any change. She looked confused for the barest of seconds before realization lit her features.

“Oh. Oh! That!” Niko quickly took her hand out of the pool, but thought better of shaking her hands in front of her like she usually did. “No, no – don’t worry about that!” She laughed, the sound causing a tentative warmth to blossom in his chest. “I really didn’t mind. It was…it was nice.” She emphasized her point with a shy but honest smile that caused the warmth in his chest to go into full bloom.

His eyes softened at her gentle expression, the soft look on her face looking like the most natural thing in the world. Risotto grunted an affirmative, finding words to be difficult.

As they walked away from the petting pool and dried off their hands, Niko spoke up.

“You know…to be honest, I wasn’t so sure about this. It’s been awhile since I’ve gone on a date, and this was my first blind date. I was ready to kill Mimi!” she admitted with a laugh, miming strangling motions. “No offense.”

“None taken.” His chuckle was nearly inaudible, but she didn’t miss the amusement in his voice.

Her smile grew wide, toothy and easy. “But this was nice. Real nice.”

“It was.” Risotto returned the smile, however subtle the change in his expression was. “I’ll admit this was…an experience. But I enjoyed it.”

At that, Niko laughed lightly and reached out to take his hand. Risotto noted the hesitation in her actions, the pause lasting no longer than a second. But in the end, he could feel his hand in hers, warm and comforting, like that was where it belonged.

He smiled at the feeling.

“Let’s go get lunch?” she asked, tilting her head at him.

His hand tightened around hers, just so.

“Let’s.”

As they walked towards their destination, they discussed restaurants, going over their options and bantering all the way there, the sound of her laughter echoing down the street.

[gumpistol]

@d3vilfruit

when your weird uncle goes nonverbal at the function

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #452

Top Ten Monsters from Children’s Media

It's Halloween! Literally today! Did you notice? I think it's been a little bit less omnipresent this year, but maybe that's because I've not been going round the shops as much. It's inadvisable to go trick-or-treating so that kinda takes a bit of the excitement out of the equation too. But you can still buy pumpkins and sweets and watch The Nightmare Before Christmas with the kids, so it’s not a total wash-out. And I love Halloween, so I’ll always try to make the bare minimumest of efforts; our Halloween is being a bit weird regardless, but I’m determined (as of writing) to give them a nice, indoorsy find-the-candy activity, as well as making some spooky houses and dressing up as, I dunno, Death of the Endless or Borat or Angus Deaton or whoever they’re into at the moment.

Anyway, kids and Halloween. One thing that’s quite good about kids is introducing them to films, and then gauging when they’re ready for more advanced films. So already this Spooky Season we’ve watched the original Addams Family movie (Values coming this weekend!); creepy and kooky, yeah, but one thing it lacks is a truly memorable monster. Thing? Cousin It? I guess, but one thing that kids’ films (and books, and TV…) excel at is creating terrifying monsters. And, hey, it’s Halloween! Let’s celebrate!

So what follows is a list of monsters, ghouls, and other miserables that have traumatised me in my youth, or else that I just thought were hella creepy as an adult, from all across the spectrum of children’s media. Book characters, TV characters, and lots of creatures from movies. Are they scary? Well, yes; in some cases, very much so. In others, I just hope I haven’t given my children nightmares by letting them watch Spirited Away. I mean, seriously guys: children are supposed to watch (or read) these things! Neil Gaiman, I’m looking at you, you dangerous bastard. Buttons for eyes?! For Christ’s sake.

Anyway, here we go: my favourite monsters from children’s media. Get your creep on.

Gmork (The Neverending Story, 1984): I’ve never read the book, but the big bad wolf from the movie legit terrified me as a child. Horrific, huge, a black beast with a vicious visage; he was a force of nature. Something about him made him unnatural (the fact he was a special effect?) and this added to his uncanny horror. Scarier than American Werewolf, and I saw that when I was a kid too.

The Other Mother (Coraline, Neil Gaiman, 2002): too old for this to be a childhood nightmare, she’s still unrelentingly scary; a would-be supermum with homicidal overtones, that primal fear of your carers turning on you. In reality she’s some kind of timeless creature of consumption (“the Beldam”) with supernatural powers, so yeah – scary. But really it’s the fact she has buttons for eyes that terrifies.

The Grand High Witch (The Witches, Roald Dahl, 1983): dispensing with common witchy folklore, Dahl created a coven of hideous, bald, toe-less monsters who united in a campaign to kill all children. The Grand High Witch is particularly evil and ugly, with a suitably diabolical plan; the greatest monster and most insidious villain Dahl created. She also inflicts wounds on the protagonists, which – admirably – the book’s ending does not gloss over.

The Weeping Angels (Doctor Who, from 2007): is Doctor Who a kids’ property? I have always and probably will always say yes, so I get to include these scary-ass statues. A monster who can only move when you’re not looking at it, suitably scary; but the fact it moves even if you blink? Nightmare fuel, administered straight into the veins courtesy of Stephen Moffat. Great backstory, beautiful gimmick, and a wonderful design; classic Who monstrosity.

Terror Dogs (Ghostbusters, 1984): it’s a comedy so most of its ghosts and ghouls end up being played more or less for laughs; obviously the likes of Slimer and Stay-Puft, but even Gozer isn’t really presented as scary. But the Terror Dogs are something else; meaty, hefty monsters with gruesome faces, who chase and catch our heroes. The scene where they grab Dana, arms tearing through chair upholstery, is proper horror stuff.

Wheelers (Return to Oz, 1985): another literary critter I only saw in a film, the Wheelers freaked me the eff out as a kid. Punkish rogues who tool around on unnervingly long limbs ending in tiny wheels, they’re teased by creepy graffiti in a post-apocalyptic Oz, chasing and bedevilling Dorothy. Genuinely threatening, genuinely creepy.

No-Face (Spirited Away, 2001): partly it’s the creepy visage, a ghostly body with featureless face (hence, er, “No-Face” I guess); but then he starts eating people, becoming a vast, amorphous monster, seemingly unstoppable, destroying all in his path. His subsequent redemption (of a sort) reveals shades and depths that deepens the film as a whole, but he’s still scary as all get out at the start.

The Skeksis (The Dark Crystal, 1982): a veritable tribe of hideous vulture-things, part of their unsettling nature is their scary design (all shrivelled flesh and sharp edges) and part of it is their repulsive behaviour, their regal dress shredded and filthy; they turn on each other, one-up each other, seek to undermine (or even kill!) each other. They’re just nasty, and as a kid I found them incredibly sinister.

Oogie Boogie (The Nightmare Before Christmas, 1993): in a film stuffed with monsters of various shapes and sizes, it’s a fat hessian sack who provides the true scares. A violent and threatening monster with the manner of a mob boss and a dash of New Orleans cool, he’s a literal bag full of bugs, slimy and sinister and full of malevolence. He threatens Santa, for Pete’s sake!

Constance (Monster House, 2006): another straight-up horror film for kids (even if it’s got gags and stuff), Constance is a ghost (scary!) who possesses a house. It’s a scary house for sure, and the various tricks and traps she enacts for the kids are Poltergeist-y in the extreme. There’s an interesting sadness here that might undercut the scares in the end, but for the most part the house is a big ol’ fright-fest.

Right, there we go; ten proper scary monsters that are supposed to be suitable for kids. Can you imagine it? Wheels for hands, buttons for eyes, and no friggin’ face! No wonder we’re so messed up as a species if this is what we’ve been mainlining as children.

Shame I never got round to Zelda from Terrahawks, mind.

[indiavolowetrust]

Carajillo II

SUMMARY: The sequel to Carajillo, which you can read here. A coup d'etat has been staged in the Celestial Realm. The human proposes a plan to halt the impending war.

Part One: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Part Two: Coming Soon!

Part Three: Coming Soon!

TW: Blood, Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, Mention of Rape

PART ONE: CHAPTER THREE

I stand silently at the end of the room, my eyes flickering occasionally over the attendees of the meeting. It had only been expected for the figureheads to have some form of knowledge regarding the disastrous summit. The original representatives of the Celestial Realm, despite many attempts to contact them, are nowhere to be found. Despite the efforts to maintain peace between all three realms, a coup d’etat had been staged shortly after the summit. A partially expected consequence. With no formal peace treaty, there had been little obstruction to the desired ends of the rebellious faction -- if there had been any obstruction in the first place. And then there was the topic of Maria’s untimely expiration.

There had been little visible reaction amongst the seven figureheads in regards to the topic. Little reaction other than the stiffening of postures, mild discomfort, and in one case, buried rage. It had been obvious knowledge at that point, given the severance of the pacts between all seven brothers and the human -- but it had been difficult to mask my vexation.

Humans die all the time, I can imagine the traitorous twin remarking, his demeanor drifting dangerously close to disinterest. Lucifer and Asmodeus would speak words of assent on the matter, given the opportunity, and even Beelzebub might venture to nod. Despite the obvious impact of their sister’s death upon the seven figureheads as a whole, I still cannot bring myself to believe that they have a true grasp on the concept of death. Unforgiving, irreversible death.

Of course, I can expect no less from fallen angels.

What I had not expected, however, is the manner in which Maria has demanded the rapt attention of her audience. How she has compelled each and every demon before her to subject themselves to her mercy, her presence much greater than her physical form would suggest.

“It would be in our best interest to gather information on the faction,” Maria proposes. “Acting without knowledge of their intentions, their methods, and the nature of their structure would incur too great of a risk. We shouldn’t act blindly. We have only a handful of days before the Celestial Realm’s celebration. If it is truly an event open to all, I propose that we seize the opportunity.”

“While I agree with your reasons, I can’t imagine there are very many demons who would be willing to venture into such dangerous territory. Much less ones that would survive the trip there and back,” Lord Diavolo muses, settling back into his chair. “What you propose is something that could start a war.”

Her eyes are sharp. “Our war has already started. What I propose is a means to end it.”

Lord Diavolo pauses for a moment, contemplating her words. Perhaps considering if he should refute them or not, given her complete refusal to bend to his will. Were he more like the dormant king, she would be eaten alive for daring to oppose him. Beheaded, if the king felt more merciful that day. Drawn and quartered. Starved. Lashed. Perhaps even some odd combination of all four, depending on his mood.

Thankfully, he is nothing like his father.

Lord Diavolo sighs, conceding. “Then again, I anticipated that you had something like this in mind. You want to carry out this task yourself as well, I take it.”

She nods.

“Don’t you think they’ll recognize you?” he inquires. “If that angel was given orders to single you out, there are probably many more who know what you look like. How are you so sure they won’t identify you on sight?”

“There’s an apple tree in your garden, isn’t there? The one that lies.”

His eyes flicker briefly to one of the massive windows of the throne room, the stained glass overlooking the labyrinthine garden. “There is.”

“I would put it to good use,” she says. “I won’t be able to travel with very many through the portal, but I think it’ll be enough. Enough for me to find what I need, anyway. If -- if you would let me, that is. I can leave as soon as possible to ensure the effects aren’t lost on me.”

Lord Diavolo’s eyes narrow almost imperceptibly. “You do realize what you’re asking of me, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

For the first time, there is the hint of apprehension in her expression. Disquiet. Lord Diavolo holds her gaze for a long moment, neither of them speaking. Neither are willing to speak. Yet despite the clear imbalance of power -- a demon prince against a mere, vulnerable soul -- Maria shows no signs of wavering. She simply stands in place, her small form dwarfed by both the ill-fitting clothes and the sheer size of the throne room. Lord Diavolo’s golden eyes look upon her from his throne.

And then his visage cracks into a smile. He laughs, the resonant sound reverberating throughout the room, and Maria visibly relaxes.

“I’ve always liked that about you!” he beams, adjusting into a more casual position. “So much willpower in you, even for a human. So much moxie!”

“Moxie?” she echoes, confused.

“Yes, moxie! What those flying drivers in movies have,” he explains, making rather vague gestures with his hands. She stares. “My only condition is that you bring one of us along with you. A partner, you could say. If you’re looking to work with a demon who won’t be ripped apart by the fabric of the Celestial Realm, you’ve got the cream of the crop right here. As the prince of the Devildom, I understand your reasons to fare such a dangerous task. But as a friend, I cannot let you go alone.”

Lord Diavolo smiles warmly down at her, and Maria returns the gesture. For once, I am glad that she had been so insistent on forming such strong relations with the prince. That there had been a reason other than bothering me at inconvenient hours.

Maria’s gaze flickers around the room, lingering on each and every one of the seated figureheads. Evaluating them. While none have dared to speak thus far -- especially considering their lack of any real power in the order -- it is easy to discern the unrest. Again she shifts uncomfortably in her garments.

I follow her gaze.

Beelzebub would reveal his identity with his unnatural hunger. Belphegor would succumb to his own hatred. Asmodeus would likely accomplish nothing, as expected of his flighty, frivolous nature. He would be nothing more than a liability. Even after a millennium, Lucifer is still too noticeable. Too identifiable. He would be eradicated on sight. And Satan -- no, that one could be viable. If that one could manage to keep his rage in check, he could very well be an option. The only option.

She bites her lip, regarding Lord Diavolo. “Anyone in this room?”

“Aside from myself, of course.”

I observe the greedy one silently as his expression hardens, his rather brazen nature taking control of his outward movements. Clenched jaw, determined gaze, the anxious tapping of his fingers against his leg. That one would ultimately be too brash. Too impatient, too loud, too garish in his actions. And yet it is in his arrogance that seems to make him believe that he would be fitting for the role. Aside from Leviathan -- who I imagine would be overtaken by his own envy in the process -- Mammon is the least viable candidate for the task.

Which leaves the wrathful one. Lord Diavolo would not likely allow --

“Barbatos.”

I blink.

Lord Diavolo arches a brow. “Barbatos?”

“If -- if you would lend me his service,” she says, glancing quickly towards me. I keep my expression impassive. “You told me I could have anyone in this room.”

Lord Diavolo pauses, registering her words. “I did, yes.”

“Barbatos can control time,” she reasons. “If anything goes wrong, we can just go back and redo everything until we get it right. At least, that’s what I think.”

Lord Diavolo nods, conceding with her agreement. “Well, I can’t say I don’t agree with your reasons,” he says after a moment. He makes a point to regard me over the others, and I return his gaze. “Barbatos?”

* * *

The light of the false moon filters well over the furnishings of the lord’s office, the surface of the desk seeming to nearly emanate a luminosity of its own. Despite this, Lord Diavolo always insists on some form of interior lighting -- and so I have made the effort to ignite the few candles scattered around the room. Each flame flickers within its glass confines, ribbons of animal fat dripping down the alabaster forms. The fireplace roars with a blue and white blaze, devouring the kindling. I pass by the grate with long, easy strides, balancing both the teapot and teacup on a tray, and place the items some distance away from Lord Diavolo’s paperwork.

Our paperwork, as it would occur. I can only hope that Lord Diavolo can manage to make them convincing enough, given that he had insisted on doing forging them himself.

The lord regards me the moment I set down the tray, as if he had just noticed my presence. “Barbatos!” he addresses me, smiling. “What a lovely surprise! Thank you.”

“There is no need to thank me every time, my Lord,” I respond, taking the steaming teapot into my hands. The fragrant tea pours delicately into the teacup. “It is only my duty.”

“A duty that I still appreciate. I believe your interests suit the art of baking pastries and brewing tea a little more,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “You seem happier. Happier than the first time I met you, I would think.”

Memories of screaming demons, wretched cries of pain and desperation, and the cold blood pooling at my feet flash through my thoughts. I had not worked efficiently enough that day, the words of the traitorous demon drawn out with each snap of his extremities -- and so I had lent myself to the disgusting sensation of being submerged in his ichor. The demon king had opened the door then, the light of the torch spilling into the room. Perched at the threshold of his legacy. And behind him stood the young prince, the mop of fiery hair in contrast with the viscera-painted walls of the chamber. He had scrutinized me with curious, golden eyes, unaffected by the gore that lined the room.

The same pair of eyes that look upon me now.

“Indeed.”

Lord Diavolo takes a sip of the tea, humming in appreciation. “You’ve really outdone yourself this time,” he remarks. “This is chamomile, isn’t it? I can’t believe it took two thousand years for us to finally catch onto this. Who would have thought a human would have such good taste?”

“The human world has multitudinous biomes for growing such flora. It is only natural that they would be the ones to discover its uses.” I place the teapot gingerly back into its proper place, the bottom of the ceramic dish clinking against the metal tray. “But I will admit that her affinity for the taste led to an increase in imports.”

“She’s brash, isn’t she?” he says, returning his attention to the papers strewn before him. I move the teacup some distance away before he can forget. “But I suppose that’s how she survived here in the first place. All that fire and foxy.”

“I believe the word is moxie, my Lord.”

“Ah, yes, moxie! I have been falling behind on my studies of human culture, haven’t I?” He laughs in good humor at his own blunder. “It’s a shame they’ve been too preoccupied for consultation. Just think of how many things we could have learned about the human world by now! I believe we last left on the topic of seams. Something to do about a viney plant.”

He is deliberately avoiding the subject, I observe silently. nodding in agreement. The papers beneath his hands remain unmarked, his pen set aside. The smile on his face, while largely genuine, belies a sympathetic concern. A feat his father would have never achieved. The lord had chosen only the finest, most discreet doctors to treat his old friend over the past month, allowing her refuge within his own castle, and still her soul is weak. Still she has shown no signs of recovery from her time in limbo, the structure of her metaphysical body crumbling by the day.

It is only her willpower, it seems, that ties her to this time and place.

“Are you prepared?” he asks, placing the teacup back onto the desk. I had not realized that he had reached for it. “I went to the trouble of gathering all of them, but I believe she made a good choice. Maybe even the right one.”

I refill the teacup. “I will do as you wish.”

He lets out a sigh.  “I can’t even begin to count the centuries that have passed since I took his place.” There is a note of exasperation in his tone -- much as there had been for the past two thousand years. “I will always give you a choice, Barbatos. When will you learn that?”

I remember standing over the demon king’s body. Golden, inquisitive eyes had pierced through me. An echo of his countenance in the torture chambers. He had held a hand out to me, the image stained with the black blood of his kin, and I had taken it in mine.

“Quite possibly never, my Lord.”

[gumpistol]

@ferromagnetiic | @enruiinas | @isutoburu | @celestiialnotes

It's not working...

[vorthosjay]

Let’s Talk About the Hour of Revelation

Magic Story is Back! And there is SO MUCH to talk about. As usual, I HAVE THINGS TO SAY. Alison Luhrs is on fire with this story.

Welcome to Nicol Bolas, people.

Art by Raymond Swanland

He had days. Only days until he wouldn't have the magic left to execute this plan. There was just enough time left to put into place the possible means to regain his godhood.

The dragon's plans spanned millennia and his perception straddled centuries, a winding maze of possibility and circumstance and statistics and likelihood. Usually the dragon played the odds when shaping his decisions—but now, to manifest his needs, the dragon would need to be violent in his choices.

Okay, so this is obviously just a short time days after the Mending. The Mending didn’t change everything all at once, but planeswalkers were still depowered relatively quickly.

@sarpadianempiresvol-viii pointed out to me that his haste explains why so much of Amonkhet’s true history remained. There wasn’t time to erase everything.

The gods of Amonkhet saw the dragon hovering outside the protection of the Hekma.

So the Hekma was there before Bolas. Bolas isn’t responsible for the Devastation outside of Naktamun. Interesting.

They were determined not to fail this time. No monster could defeat the eight gods of Amonkhet. Not when Naktamun was all that remained.

This is VERY interesting. They didn’t fail this time? So whatever happened to Amonkhet, the gods couldn’t prevent it. The implication here is that Bolas showed up and took advantage of the situation, not that he destroyed all of Amonkhet. But why the reference to him in the Broken Lands? Maybe he is responsible for more, but the way the intro is written, it doesn’t seem that way.

Edit: So while writing this, I’d been having a twitter back and forth with Alison, and she confirmed this wasn’t intended to read like I’m suggesting:

Its more of a 'this time when it counts' not 'this time UNLIKE A MYSTERIOUS LAST TIME DUN DUN DUN'.

But still, with the Curse of Wandering, perhaps we’re looking at a long-term attrition on the plane, and that’s what the gods are referring to. This marks Bolas’ initial arrival (or at least, him carrying out his plans).

The gods' distraction to protect the mortals amused the dragon. These gods cared far more about their plane than he ever did about the worlds he created.

Bolas confirmed bad dad. But the gods - all the gods - of Amonkhet are genuinely good, it seems.

Kefnet, caretaker of the Hekma, was straining to keep the magical barrier together. The dragon tipped his chin and fractured Kefnet's mind in two.

Kefnet's body and wings went limp and he plummeted to the ground, crumpled and still.

Kefnet. Kefnet? KEEFFFNEEEET!?!?

Man, I wish Rhonas had taken the hit so I could make a MGS Game Over reference easier

A brilliant white light engulfed Naktamun, and the seven gods fell to their knees in agony as countless souls vanished from existence.

Notice how it says seven now? Perhaps there were once more than eight gods of Amonkhet, but others were killed before Naktamun. Or maybe we’ll just have to deal with uneven cycles, but it hurts my brain.

The dragon opened his eyes and every mortal old enough to walk dissipated into the sky.

Um. Bolas just unsummoned tens of thousands of people. This is old-school Nicol Bolas. This is power, even for Oldwalkers.

The dragon burst through the mausoleum door. Oketra and Hazoret charged. With a wave of a claw, the dragon sent forward a pulse of magic, and the minds of the two gods went utterly blank.

They fell where they stood.

Oketra and Hazoret running to protect the children was the most beautiful thing. I honestly always thought “You’ll understand when you have children.” was a stupid reason, but these kinds of things hit me way harder now that I have a son than it did beforehand.

First, he returned to the surface and took three of the gods for his own. He stowed them away as one would tools in a cupboard. Their time would come soon enough. With his remaining power, the dragon corrupted and manipulated the leylines of mana that coursed through the remaining gods, willing them to forget their origins, tying their existence to himself, and forcing them to erase all else.

So those three have been off the board, likely hidden behind the Gates to the Afterlife.

Sup.

There existed an elite religious ceremony—trials of merit, with the result being a single sacrificial champion every revolution of the second sun. A rare cultural cornerstone revered by both man and god. Perfectly suited to repurpose for his designs. The dragon rejoiced at the convenience. What had occurred once every few decades would now demand a constant supply of champions. He spelled the second sun to move as he was ready, to count down until whenever he decided to return. This would be the cornerstone of his machinations on this world. 

Okay, so Amonkhet DID have sacrificial trials before, but there was only ever one sacrifice. And it happened once every few decades, not every year.

Amusingly, there’s a lot of champion talk here for one who hates champions now. Maybe this whole plan is because he doesn’t want another champion to turn on him but still wants and army.

On the other side of the barrier, he erected a monument in his own visage, an homage to his magnificent horns, and enchanted it to appear stationary from every angle. He built the monument to frame the smaller sun on the horizon at the moment of his choosing. The dragon was proud. Vanity is survival when one is rapidly losing omnipotence.

Haha, Bolas created an optical illusion. That’s why they seem to show up everywhere. This is the best possible explanation - the horns show up in all the art because Bolas enchanted them that way.

From afar the dragon maintained, monitored, and moved his machinations on other worlds as the years fell away, urging the second sun slowly around its track

OKAY THIS IS IMPORTANT. Nicol Bolas controlled the second sun. My biggest gripe about the Planar Bridge theory for Bolas’ Army? Solved. The Hour of Revelation isn’t at hand because Bolas set an egg timer 60 years ago and walked away. He’s been inching it closer as his plans came to fruition. So it’s the Hour of Revelation NOW, directly after Aether Revolt, BECAUSE Tezzeret acquired the Planar Bridge.

The only thing he could see beyond the Gate was a building that could only be the Necropolis—the fabled place where the worthy dead were laid to rest, awaiting the return of the God-Pharaoh. 

And there’s your Crumbling Necropolis reprint right there. I was wondering if this would get in. Looking forward to an Amonkhet variant. Or maybe it’ll be a new Necropolis with a desert sub-type.

The demon stood high atop the obelisk and spread its wings to catch the warmth of the second sun. Djeru could make out a crocodilian form and a mad smile. Endless scales ending in a thick tail. Sharp wings leading toward a sharper grin.

I was never very sure about Razaketh’s design, but he looks awesome.

Art by Slawomir Maniak

Art by Jaime Jones

I would even venture to say he looks Draconic. Djeru says crocodilian, but Amonkhetu Dragons are crocodilian. It’d be interesting, because that would make both Bolas-centric blocks feature a demon dragon working for Bolas.

@sarpadianempiresvol-viii suggests that maybe Razaketh is partly behind the gradual attrition of Amonkhet, and he’s working with Bolas because Bolas agreed to give him final dominion over the plane when Bolas is done.

Also, it’s hard to gauge Razaketh’s size from these, but he seems big.

And as the blood began to spread, leak, stain the brown-green-blue of the Luxa River, the brilliant wash of red began to eek upriver.

Yup. They definitely aren’t doing Exodus, people. Nothing to see here. We definitely won’t be seeing all the plagues of Egypt.

"I know you are here, Liliana Vess. You cannot hide from me."

*shivers* This story was excellent. Probably one of the best since Magic Origins, top five at least.

So what is Bolas up to? I’m still pretty firmly in camp Lazotep creatures, although I think they’re being made into Horrors with the powers instead of some kind of artifact-y creature. Umezawa and Tezzeret have proved thinking minions are unreliable at best. I’m hoping there’s more to it, yet. What is Bolas’s end game?

[gumpistol]

muse vs mun

tagged: no one, i stole it >:3

[somethingfoe]

You’re SPECIAL (FO4): Puppet Masters

Hello fellow deviants, still brony/MLP fans, Fallout Fans, and Fallout AND MLP fans, this is my final entry into revisiting the 'You're SPECIAL' series that were immensely popular for me back in 2015. What with Fallout 76 being a absolute trainwreck that can't get itself out of more and more bullshit, and Bethesda's arrogance and naivety getting the best of them, I hold no interest in continuing anything related to Fallout or MLP beyond this at this point. I merely continued making these when Fallout 76 did come out, and wanted to make a variant of the classics that mimics the attribution of points from Fallout 4, which is a far cry from the conventional RPG style of Fallout 3 and even 1 and 2. There is no fucking chance in hell that I'm going to do any kind of variant in regards to 76, as I don't even want to put my hands on such a wretched product. Anyhow...

This You're SPECIAL is a particularly interesting deviation from the format of both the classic and revised versions of my You're SPECIALS. For starters, I'm pitting up a good guy against a bad guy for a change, where I would either pit two good guys or two bad guys against one another. From Fallout:Equestria, we have Watcher, or otherwise known as Spike grown up, who with the use of spritebots, tries to lead Littlepip as well as other 'good ponies' to gather up the elements of harmony. while this has good intentions, most of that info is kept under the tablecloth as Spike is incredibly reclusive as a result of him being a fully grown dragon, a rarity in the post apocalypse. For Project Horizons, we have The Legate, the known leader of the Remnants, a zebra clan that still acts under the presumption that the great war is still ongoing and seeks to continue that as The Legate has lived for almost as long as Spike has. The Legate is also a puppet master in that he's exploiting both the means of Cognitum and Steel Rain to suit his own ends, meaning to take both of them down when their backs where turned but also used Blackjack's own interests in shutting both of them down to expedite that. As a result, both of these characters, whatever you may think of them, have their own nefarious goals in mind, bad or good.

A second deviation that I made in the process of making this You're SPECIAL is that I changed the number of how many points would be based on SPECIALS between the characters. Since I was making them based on the perks available rather than the other way around, I had to add more perk points to some of The Legate's stats so he could get the primary perks that focus on his playstyle. As a result, I had to add a completely new graphic to explain that these two don't distribute the same number of perk points to their BASE Specials, and realistically, they wouldn't. I decided that they would sit in the middle with being level 70, stronger than the sidekicks and malevolent relics, but weaker than the main protagonists in terms of level. To summarize the playstyles for both, The Watcher is a heavy hitter who uses technology, sporting high strength and high intelligence to capitalize on using power armor mainly. The Legate is a stealth based, melee based attacker who uses VATS to it's full potential. But more on the explanations soon.

Of Course, seeing that I haven't actually explained how I determined their SPECIAL stats, I'll explain them on top of explaining the perks I chose for them. The Watcher 'vector' was awkwardly cropped from a 'trading card' by

RinMitzuki

(although I think the actual vector came from

Hawk9mm

and/or

Noxxi-the-Noxxian

so I'm not sure who to credit exactly), to the point that I had to go for a 'background shadow' effect rather than the stroke gradience that I normally do, and The Legate vector came from

Vector-Brony

, the usual foil I go for the most quality vectors. It was fucking bitch to even find a vector for a grown up Spike and/or Watcher, so this was really the best I could find. Anyway, here comes another huge flood of text. Better hope you have a few hours to look at it!

STRENGTH

Watcher (10)

With Watcher being a fully grown dragon, even Spike doesn't even know his own strengths. Beyond size and stature, with heavy scales and muscles naturally toned from his very being, Watcher is the strongest of the bunch and very few could beat him.

The Legate (8)

While The Legate is a battleborne zebra fighter and a loyal devout of Fallen Caesar, even a pony sized anthro can't quite take the whole brunt of a giant ship or vessel like Watcher can. The Legate has internal strength, that isn't to be denied, but that doesn't knack external strength.

Pain Train

Watcher (3)

- The closest resemblance to being a big, lumbering meat of a creature is the equivalent of running through anything in power armor, so the Pain Train perk fits best for what Spike is currently. so go with a power armor build, lean HEAVY on it, because that's basically what this character is: A wrecking ball.

Rooted

The Legate (2)

- The Legate knows how to keep his stance and posture on key, letting the enemy come to him to gain the advantage, so the Rooted perk works best, as well as it being a melee-specific perk.

Basher

Watcher (2)

- While Watcher isn't more known for his weapon use and rather his fire breathing and heavy claws, you can apply the basher perk to any big weapon like the Gauss Rifle or the Fat Man as the closest resemblance of a sweeping claw strike. Better yet, just use a Super Sledge and get the same effect!

Strong Back

Watcher (5)

- A giant Dragon is a recipe for opportunities to be one giant carrier vessel. Very little burdens Watcher, so he's keen on helping out Blackjack and/or Littlepip if he can leave his stay, with very little complaint.

Blacksmith

The Legate (4)

- The Legate knows how to make some pretty dope armor for himself and his entourage, donning a very intimidating Deathclaw skull as his trophy and visage to hide who he truly is. On top of that is his seldom used melee weapons, as his own fists (or hooves) are a weapon of destruction.

Iron Fist

The Legate (5)

- Being a master of Fallen Caesar that even Xenith can't beat, The Legate has had 200 years to master it's technique and defeat any opponent hand-to-hand.

PERCEPTION

Watcher (7)

Having a whole slew of hacked spritebots to quietly watch the most moral of those to gather up for his own interests, in spite of Watcher's isolation, he has at least a general idea of everything around them, even if he can't witness every detail personally.

The Legate (6)

While The Legate does have perception in regards to his desires and goals in mind, The Legate is still astutely paranoid of the Stars like the rest of the Zebras are and loathes Blackjack, the 'Maiden of the Stars' as a result of this. Whether this paranoia is propaganda of his own making or he's genuinely afraid, the point of the matter is that The Legate is a bit more daft when it comes to observation outside of his own ego.

Refractor

Watcher (3)

- Being a magical, mythical being with huge, broad scales gives Spike a natural affinity against any sort of plasma or energy based weapons. Seeing that most of the enclave come back scared shitless or turned to ash, most don't try to cross Watcher as a result of how futile their own weapons are against him.

The Legate (2)

- While The Legate is mostly flesh and bone, his weird healing talisman also gives him some natural defense against most ballistic weapons, even though he'd likely dodge them before they would hit.

Awareness

Watcher (2)

- Watcher's little spritebots gives him some preconception of enemies and or friends before they even know who he is, as he can spectate at will at anytime with any particular spritebot.

ENDURANCE

Watcher (6)

While Watcher does have hard scales and a overall large form, Watcher also hasn't been able to get out of a cave that is roughly the same size of him, and has been mostly grounded without having the regiment of working out or dieting beyond eating any gemstones he can scrape.

The Legate (8)

The Legate is hard-boiled, basically immortal, and has a talisman in his skull helmet that also gives him a lot of life regeneration, similarly to Rampage in a way. While it doesn't make him regrow his own mortal coil like Rampage can, he has been a lot to earn the resilience and vigilance of your typical Zebra.

Cannibal

The Legate (2)

- While it may be unconventional for me to put this on here for The Legate, The Legate actually draws life from other people in order to get power for his particular Talisman, which works as some sort of Enervation similar to what lingers in Hoofington. In a roundabout way, he's a 'soul cannibal' by this technicality. Not entirely crazed for food like with Rampage, but nevertheless.

Adamantium Skeleton

The Legate (3)

- The Legate's power talisman gives him a hardier soul and body, and what with his longing age and youthful appearance, The Legate can take a lot of abuse with little recourse.

Rad Resistant

Watcher (2)

- Again, what with being a Dragon, Watcher is naturally resistant to it. Not to mention that Watcher is one of few who actually avoided the radiation spread in the final moments of The Great War, so he is also pure. This also goes in line with you running a Power Armor build, which has natural rad resistance.

Lifegiver

Watcher (3)

- A big, hardy Dragon, even a recluse one, will have a huge lifepool and can take heavy ballistics like they are thumb tacks. Very little can actually even hurt Watcher, which is fortunate given his reluctance to leave.

The Legate (2)

- while The Legate has had a hardy life leading his remnant army, again his talisman does not make him invincible, and there is a certain threshold to what amount of limbs he can lose.

Toughness

Watcher (5)

- Thick skin, heavy scales, large, foreboding body, Watcher is the toughest there can possibly be. His own digestive system can break down fucking gemstones, for crying out loud? How isn't that TOUGH?!

The Legate (2)

- Again, The Legate is exceptionally strong and durable, but he just can't quite compare to being a literal adult grown dragon. And without his talisman, he's a old haggard zebra.

CHARISMA

Watcher (3)

Extremely reclusive, standoffish, and keeping details close to his heart, Watcher typically off puts most he tries to converse with by usually destroying or dismissing his spritebots. Even Littlepip was a bit distraught by the unusual stalking of one near Ponyville.

The Legate (6)

The Legate is considerably more charismatic than Watcher, although only to the discretion of other dissident Zebras who are still burned by the great war in one way or another. His attire is also especially off putting and intimidating to strangers, so he only plays to his base mainly.

Local Leader

The Legate (2)

- The Legate would at least have points in this attribute, if he's been able to lead a fanatical group of remnants still convinced the war is still going on.

Lone Wanderer

Watcher (2)

 - In spite of Watcher's desire to bond the elements of harmony to undo the aftermath of the war, Watcher is so paranoid of anyone knowing of the secret that he is incapable of leaving or trusting anybody to know about it, as a result he's mostly alone in a lonely cave.

Lady Killer

The Legate (2)

- I did mention his intimidating presence, but I guess it sort of turns on some ladies? I mean, Blackjack was fantasizing, albeit briefly, about getting it on with the legate? Then again, she wants to get it on with almost everybody, so that's an aside. maybe there's a charm to being an all powerful badass who's absolutely in control of their own destiny.

Cap Collector

Watcher (3)

- In order to maintain some of the running costs of his secret experiment, he has to do some rudimentary deals with drones and/or couriers in order to get some parts in order, so of course he needs some caps to keep his technology going.

INTELLIGENCE

Watcher (9)

Being stuck in a generator that could promote the rebirth of the entire world of Equestria does tend to lead one to investigate very inscrutably for almost 200 years, and that made Watcher a savant when it comes to tech, small and large. Making it his goal in life to gather the elements of Harmony like he would Celestia in a attempt to repair the damage of The Great War.

The Legate (2)

Absolutely paranoid, schizophrenic, and only ideally interested in tech in pursuit of his own goals, The Legate is the bane to the Brotherhood of Steel in almost every way.

Nuclear Physicist

Watcher (2)

- Watcher nearly masters Nuclear Physicist simultaneously for making fusion cores last longer, and primarily that his fire breath counts as 'radiation damage' in the game, for some reason. It probably helps that Watcher has taken all the precious time to figure out how to make his 'garden of elements' even work.

Robo Expert

Watcher (3)

- It takes some finesse to hack spritebots from a distance in order to communicate to the wasteland, but Watcher managed to do it. His rigging of the machine in his cave also gives him some pointers with programming knowledge.

SCIENCE!

Watcher (3)

- Again, Watcher knows his way around a computer, in spite of his strange shape and size. It also helps that he used to be around someone who had nothing but books for him to read!

Hacker

Watcher (2)

- It's a redundant point, but Watcher knows how to run a computer. At least with the only one he's been able to even work with, considering how big his giant fangs are.

Medic

The Legate (2)

- The only thing with The Legate that even remotely falls on the intelligence is the medic perk, as he and his zebra remnants use rudimentary medicine like herbs and bandages to heal wounds. Not that it would matter to The Legate, what with his natural healing ability.

AGILITY

Watcher (5)

a big, lumbering Dragon isn't going to be the most elegant thing when it comes to stealth or movement. But still, a flying dragon does sport some amount of movement, seeing as Watcher's wingspan can make him fly nearly as fast as most Pegasus Vertibirds.

The Legate (10)

Swift, smooth, quick, and prudent, The Legate is as evasive as he is omnipresent. A master of Fallen Caesar, even Xenith is sweating trying to fight him in unarmed combat and in finesse.

Gun Fu

The Legate (2)

- While this perk would be more fitting with weapons, Gun Fu can also be used as melee as it's a VATS-based perk. The Legate is in tune with his multiple enemies and can track each one with the greatest finesse.

Blitz

The Legate (2)

- Combining well with the Gun Fu perk is the Blitz perk, as it's extremely difficult to keep your distance from The Legate, much less even run away. Even far ranged attackers have trouble avoiding him.

Ninja

The Legate (3)

- From under, over, or from beyond, The Legate strikes without hesitation and without any mercy whatsoever. This goes extremely well with his melee attacks tracking from one to the next, as well as his closing the distance.

Moving Target

The Legate (3)

- The Legate is not intimidated from any sort of firearms or artillery, as he can easily dodge and avoid most of them without even a scruff on his mane.

Action Boy

The Legate & Watcher (3)

- the only perk where both actually match, which is a far cry from the massive perks that The Legate has in comparison to Watcher. Watcher needs the action boy perk to compensate for his flying (AKA Power Armor Jetpack usage), and The Legate to continue his melee onslaught.

Sneak

The Legate (2)

- The Legate usually likes to  make his presence known, but he is keen on sneaking on some enemies, often to cause political division without being caught red-handed.

Commando

Watcher (3)

- Obstensibly, being a power armor user with a jetpack would likely lead you to using more two-handed weapons than most. Seeing that it's the CLOSEST possible way to be a 'dragon', I'd expect Watcher to use both of his claws like a giant maul similarly to it.

LUCK

Watcher (3)

Being withheld the ability to save the Mane Six simply because he was in hibernation must be quite infuriating with Spike, on top of the unofficial responsibility of keeping his cave secret from the Enclave who are constantly searching for him and what he's hiding. As a result, Watcher isn't quite so fortunate to be in his situation, even with his large size and demeanor.

The Legate (8)

With the Legate being handed most of what he got on a silver spoon, while still backstabbing those who cared for him all the while to perpetuate a ongoing war, with a mass of fanatics who blindly follow his beliefs and the idea of the war still going to this day, The Legate is lucky that nobody tried to backstab HIM up to this point. At least, until Lancer came into the picture.

Grim Reaper's Sprint

The Legate (2)

 - The Legate draws power from his enemies and his own allies, and with The Legate's innate melee and unarmed abilities, he's banking on all the best perks of Melee combined with VATS.

Crit Banker

The Legate (3)

- The Legate is a surgeon in that he can calculate every weakness in his enemies, emotional or physical. He'll use it against them, obstensibly giving him the ability to bank on critting someone.

Better Crits

The Legate (2)

- And The Legate doesn't let up on his critical strikes, making them burn and seethe so that he can vanquish his opponents more swiftly.

Bloody Mess

Watcher (4)

- About as subtle as a baseball bat with a grenade swung on someone's head, Watcher, when he does have to fight, will often burn and scorch anything that gets in his way, often accidentally teleporting them as a result of his fire breath being a sort of portal to Celestia's domain.

Scrounger

Watcher (3)

- Vicariously through the spritebots, Watcher accrues a lot of Old-War tech similarly to the Brotherhood of Steel (another reason that they too share a interest in him) in order to help rebuild and get his 'garden of elements' working again as intended.

Whew, that is it! Absolutely it! No more You're SPECIALS as far as I'm concerned, this little mini project has been shelved! Again, new photo run coming by tomorrow on top of me still featuring the one I did nearly a month ago! Hopefully this was worth the wait as always!

[abakersquest]

CHAPTER SIX – THE NATION OF TREES

Wally remained unconscious for the rest of the journey, his hand refusing to release the Stellar Flare. The Chilarthro soon arrived at its destination, a small coastal village in Planae. Once there and safely ensconced at an inn; Rozzi removed her Farsight Stone from its chain and set it to spin on the floor. It chimed several times before its blue shimmer turned green and the air above it was painted with the emerald tinted visage of Cinera the Seer.

The normally pleasant expression on her face was gone, it was clear to Hector and Rozzi that she already knew what had transpired.

“How’s Wally?” She asked ruefully.

Hector looked over to the small wallaby in the bed he’d placed him in. “Asleep for now, he exhausted himself.”

Cinera nodded. “Yes, that’s to be expected. It’s the first time he’s ever used any magic… He’ll wake up just fine, but be hungrier than he’s ever been. Don’t let him eat too much even if he wants to.”

“Cinera,” began Rozzi. “What was that thing that attacked us? Why was it trying to kill Wally?”

Cinera sighed. “I’ve no doubt that creature was ‘The Ragged Rogue.’ He’s one of Kota’s Generals.”

Rozzi gasped and Hector’s expression grew stern.

Cinera turned to Rozzi. “There were five generals leading Kota’s army of Black Rock Knights. The Ragged Rogue you’ve met. Next is The Peerless Knight, a living suit of armor without a wearer. The Indomitable Smith, a great builder and source of the Black Rock Knights. The Thorned Princess, who resembles a Planaetian but with a deadlier disposition. Lastly, Vizier Bulfo, a Sauroian sorcerer second only to Kota herself. If the Rogue is active in the world again… I’ve no doubt they are as well.”

“Y-you…” Rozzi began, trying to regain her composure. “You said they were on some secret mission and were coming with us as cover… But this?! I mean shouldn’t you be warning everyone?!”

“We had no way of knowing what the threat was,” said Hector. “Cinera’s initial vision of the future only pointed toward some great yet vague threat on the horizon. Now that we’ve encountered one of The Witch’s generals, we must spread the word across Mondia of her possible return.”

Cinera expression contorted in thought. “I’m not so sure… Spreading the word too quickly might cause panic and restrict your movements; Wally must be able to move as freely in the world as possible if we’re to face this threat properly.”

“AND THAT’S ANOTHER THING!” Rozzi shouted. “WHAT DOES ANY OF THIS HAVE TO DO WITH HIM?!”

Cinera and Hector shared a glance before The Seer nodded.

“Wally,” Hector began. “Is the new Flarebearer. That sword in his hand is the Stellar Flare. The weapon that helped to end The Grand War chose him to stand against this danger.”

Rozzi turned to the sleeping wallaby, her mind reeling at the massive reveal. “But… But he’s…”

“It was his choice,” Cinera interrupted. “When faced with simply abstaining or going forward, he yoked his courage and soldiered on in the face of it. That’s exactly the sort of person whose hands I’m happy the fate of the world lies in.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Hector nodded.

The red panda’s eyes darted from face to face before settling on the exhausted Wally. She remembered the determination in his eyes as he flung massive bolts of flame at a truly horrifying monster. It was hard for her to reconcile that image of him against the bashful, overly polite fellow she’d been playfully teasing that very morning.

“But Cinera…” Hector began. “If they were able to find Wally aboard that great beast in motion… They could very well find him anywhere. Stealth may be lost to us.”

“Speed is your greatest ally then, keep on your feet as much as you can. I’ve yet to see anything past your meeting with Ygg the Elder so proceed toward Planae’s capital as soon as Wally can move on his own.”

“Right… Oh! Cinera, before you go… My own magic training was limited due to my handicap. I’m not sure what I know will be of much use to Wally.”

“It’ll be fine; he shouldn’t be learning anything more than the basics for now any way. Doing more complex magic could cause him serious harm. If you can find someone to tutor him on the finer points on your way, do so. Otherwise, just do your best.”

Hector nodded in agreement and the image of Cinera sank like fog into the stone below, its green shine fading along with its spin. Hector gently scooped it up and politely handed it back to Rozzi.

The red panda hooked it back onto her chain as she crossed the room settled into a chair by Wally’s bedside. As she looked to his sleeping face, she thought on how he’d be facing monsters just as terrible as, and worse than, the one they fought today. Had she not stepped in, could he have fought back at all? Would it have killed him? She looked up to Hector remembering that using his magic left him almost helpless after killing all those Thorn Spiders, that must be what he meant by ‘handicap.’

One of her ears turned toward the sound of Sir Hector sitting on the room’s other bed, followed by a rather regretful sounding sigh.

“I’m really going to have to come up with one incredible apology when he wakes up. I should’ve been the one to fight alongside him, not you.”

She barely acknowledged him.

“Thank you for that by the way… There aren’t many who’d risk their lives for someone they’d just met.”

“Even less who’d do that for the whole world,” she quietly mumbled to herself. Eventually, Rozzi stood and made her way to the door. “I’ll tell the rest we’re waiting on Wally to recover before we keep going. None of them may be fighters like me, but it’s still good to have as many hands as we can on the way to the capital. You keep watch ‘til he wakes up and get him some food when he does.”

“You know,” Hector started in with a softer tone to lighten the mood. “I honestly think he’d much rather see you when he wakes up than me.”

Rozzi opened the door and stood in the doorway for a few moments before deciding to say nothing and leave.

Night soon settled over the small seaside town, with Hector standing guard over Wally as the hours ticked away. He took the time to silently go over everything he’d ever learned about magic to himself. He remembered back to his younger years, learning that while he was capable of tremendous outputs of power, his ability to retain magical energy was severely limited. As such, every time he used it, it ate away at his stamina, instead of the magic that his body could gather. It meant each blow had to be decisive and lead to victory, otherwise he’d find himself completely vulnerable. He could teach Wally that much at least, the better part of restraint in using his power with the Flare.

Later in the night, Wally began to stir from his dreamless sleep. As he sat up; it felt as if his insides had been hollowed out and his head had been filled with cotton. The world was muffled and fuzzy to his senses and his mouth was dryer than it’d ever been. There was a voice as he stood and walked that he couldn’t make out, or had the energy to even address. Where was he? What was happening? None of these questions were on his mind. The only locus of his thinking was to fill the abyss like hole in his stomach with whatever he could get his hands on. He felt tugging and pushing on his body as he left one room, it went away as he found some stairs and headed down them. Once downstairs he sought out smells that might’ve been food and pushed open what felt like a door. Finally at the source of the smell, he grabbed it up and began to shovel handful after handful into his mouth as quickly as he could.

In a smattering of moments, the fog over his consciousness began to fade as all his senses came back to full function. He could now see was standing in a kitchen holding a large pot in one hand, the other covered in what smelled like Larg Beast Chili. As he looked around he saw members of the Bandit Circus watching in both awe and terror through a wallaby sized hole in the wall behind him, and an utterly terrified Planaetian chef cowering in the corner. Wally swallowed the last bits of chili still in his mouth, readied to speak, only to produce a deafening belch that surprised even him.

He then felt a pair of hands gently grip his shoulders, seeing Rozzi now standing beside him with a gracious smile. She laughed somewhat nervously to try and calm everyone down. “You’ll have t’ excuse my friend here;” she spoke sweetly handing Wally something to clean his hand with. “He’s the one we brought in on the stretcher y’see. Been sick n’ all, still a little out of his noggin’, right Wally?”

Wally nodded, afraid that opening his mouth would unleash something even worse.

“Don’t you worry about that wall now,” Rozzi continued. “We can fix that no charge, isn’t that right Cho?”

Behind her, through the Wally hole, an Orni’Hulan held up his hand and unruffled his feathers. “Yes ma’am! I’ll get ma tools!”

“Come on now Wally, you should still be in bed for a little longer.”

Wally began to walk with her before she put a hand on his chest. She pointed down to the fact he was still holding the chili pot which he quickly put down on the floor, exiting the kitchen through the new opening he’d apparently made.

Wally sighed, cleaning himself up as they walked toward the stairs. “I can’t believe I did that.”

Rozzi crossed her arms. “I can’t believe Hector didn’t stop you.”

At the bottom of the stairs lay the knight in question in a daze, very slowly picking himself up. “I’d have had better luck stopping a rockslide…” He groaned. “So glad we’re on the same side, Wally.”

Wally was about to apologize quite profusely when Sir Hector held up his hand.

“Getting pushed down a flight of stairs is exactly what I had coming for not backing you up on the Chilarthro. I’m sorry Wally.”

Unable to think of anything meaningful to say, Wally settled on looking remorseful.

Rozzi and Hector escorted Wally up the stairs and back to the room; he winced at the scuff marks made in the floor by Hector’s efforts to stop him.

Rozzi stopped by the door and leaned against the wall. “You have something y’ need to tell ‘im.”

Hector nodded and the pair entered the room, closing the door behind them.

Wally stared wide eyed as Hector told him who the Ragged Rogue was, and what its appearance on the Chilarthro meant. Someday soon, he’d be standing against The Witch Kota and her generals in a battle to determine the fate of Mondia. After Hector had finished speaking, he felt cold shock rush from his toes to the top of his head and the chili in his belly try to escape the way it came in. He swallowed hard not just to keep the food down but to center himself.

“Wally…” Sir Hector began. “It’s one thing to stand in the royal palace and agree to face some vague threat. It’s entirely another to ask you to face the greatest danger this world has ever known. If you’ve changed your mind, no one would think less of you.”

His brow furrowed in thought, was it truly any different now than it was before? He’d always known that if the Flare were needed the threat would be quite massive. Now it had a name, a face, a place it could exist instead of living in the nebulous void of imagination and fear. “You already know my answer,” Wally replied quietly. “We still have to go see that Elder Ygg fellow don’t we?”

Hector couldn’t keep from smiling. “Yes we do. Although we have absolutely no idea what were supposed to ask or tell him, were heading to a city that’s just as fortified and guarded as our own, all the while on the look out for the deadliest soldiers on the planet… But then, no one said a knight’s duty was an easy one, eh?”

“Right,” Wally clenched his fist and settled his mind with the task at hand, pushing back all the worrisome thoughts for now.

Rozzi, still listening at the door, crossed her arms and looked up toward the ceiling with a sigh.

---

In a small caravan of rented wagons, The Bandit Circus, with Wally and Hector in tow, make their way inland toward Planae’s capital city, Arborledan. Wally found it interesting that the rolling green hills and well kept farmland here reminded him of Animana’s country side. As they passed by several small villages, the band of travelers noted that in almost all of them the townsfolk have shuttered themselves into their homes, some even going so far as to board up their windows. When questioned as to why, the Planaetians responded only with silence. So the caravan simply kept rolling toward their goal until settling in for the night beside the main road. It was then Hector took Wally aside to begin his magic lessons.

“To start with,” Hector began. “Magic is an inherit trait in almost everyone. Most people however don’t live lives where it manifests in any way so it doesn’t matter to them. It exists as an expression of your inner will and conviction, and as such will reflect them.

Wally rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I wanted to save Rozzi, so it came out as the power I needed?”

“Exactly, the key to it all is understanding yourself and your desires. Harnessing that emotion and directing it outward, as one would for a punch or a kick.”

Wally puzzled over it for a moment. “But aren’t there some kind of incantations or something… I heard you saying something before you used magic on the Chilarthro and against the wyvern, I only understood half of it that second time.”

“Ah! You mean Spellspeak. You see, verbal incantations are required to shape your magic for stronger, more complex spells. There’s no teaching that unfortunately, they come to you with experience. As you use magic you simply learn how to shape it, for instance, my ‘Lightning Flash’ came to me as a result of long hours practicing strikes. As you use your magic, you’ll no doubt learn spells as you go. In time you won’t even need full incantations to summon up the power you need.”

Wally tilted his head curiously. “The words just… Pop into your head?”

Hector nodded. “Right, and when they do, they feel as natural as any other memory. You’ll just suddenly know what you need to say to shape the magic.”

“Alright… Then…” Wally thought on his following question before developing the proper metaphoric framework. “Say a person is… Like a kettle… Magic is the water, steam is a spell. Eventually all the water gets boiled off doesn’t it? I mean, there isn’t an infinite amount of magic inside of people, is there?”

Hector hummed thoughtfully, remembering everything he could from his days with a magic tutor, in fact aiming to mimic their cadence as he spoke. “With the exception of Insicai, every living thing on Mondia already has some magic in it, how much is always seemingly random. You’re right that it can run out, but for everyone who uses magic it’ll refill over time.” Hector rubbed the back of his head as if that’d somehow shake something useful off the metaphysical shelf of his memories. “As for where magic refills from, no one’s quite sure. Some folks think it might be the sun, since it seems to replenish itself faster during the day.”

Wally made a small thoughtful noise as he tried to internalize all this new information. He wondered then, if magic had always been inside him, had that been the reason the Flare chose him for this great task? Breaking away from his internal reflection, Wally looked back to Hector just as he pulled a low hanging branch off a tree and stuck the splintered end into the ground in front of him

“Now, here’s your target. You’re going to focus on how you felt atop the Chilarthro and channel those feelings through your body, into to your hand and then across the length of the Flare. It helps, I’ve been told, to imagine a stream.”

Wally nodded, drew the Flare, and pointed it at his target. He steadied his breathing and tried to remember how it felt to face down the Ragged Rogue, the desperation and fire that welled up inside his heart when Rozzi’s life was in danger.

The gem in the Stellar Flare’s crossguard shone for a moment before fading.

“You can do it Wally, calling on it on purpose is hard at first but then it’s as natural as breathing.”

Wally strained as his thinking fell into a jumble of images and emotions. He could feel the flame in his heart flicker like a candle in a breeze. He let his stance drop and he exhaled sharply in frustration.

“Well… You almost had it at least, that’s a start.”

“Needs more than ‘a start’ if he’s goin’ t’ get anywhere.” The pair turned to see Rozzi had been watching them silently. She locked eyed with Wally and walked closer. “Now, what exactly were you thinking when you shot off that first fireball?”

He closed his eyes to better sift through his memories.

“Did y’ think I was too weak to defend myself?” Rozzi’s tone was strong and direct.

She’d saved him; a strike that would’ve knocked him off into the Mangrove was the very thing she’d prevented. “No! Of course not!”

“Did y’ think you were too weak to fight it?” She escalated in volume.

The imposing image of his opponent faded some, how much of that fight was him simply being too afraid to strike back? “… No.”

Rozzi’s voice was now just an octave below a shout. “So then what’s left? Neither one of us is weak but we’re still losing and we’re about t’ die! What pops into your head in that exact moment?!”

His mind replayed vivid flashes of every last second as his heart began to pound away in his chest. He was paralyzed with fear but demanded otherwise of himself more firmly than he ever had before. Wally quickly turned toward the target branch, pointing the tip of the Flare directly at it. Flashes of ethereal flame surged down his arm and the blade, launching a small ball of fire that evaporated its target on impact. Wally then sheathed his sword and stood a little straighter. “I didn’t want to lose.”

Rozzi smiled as she turned to walk back toward the resting caravan, stopping just a few steps away to look back at Wally over her shoulder. “And thanks for that by the by… Savin’ my life n’all.”

“Oh!” Wally quickly lost all heroic posture as he rubbed the back of his head modestly. “Well… You’re welcome.”

She nodded once and set back on her course.

Hector watched her leave and waited until he was absolutely certain she was out of earshot. He sidled up to Wally and patted him on the shoulder amiably. “Now that you’ve got that down, allow your fellow knight to give you some absolutely essential lessons on dealing with the fairer sex.”

Wally froze. “… What?”

“Well Wally, it’s obvious to me the girl fancies you. It happens a lot when you’re a brave and courageous soldier! It’s also obvious to me you have absolutely no experience talking to ladies. As such, I am as forsworn to aide you in this matter as I am your sword and magic lessons!”

Wally recoiled entirely and started to slowly move away from Hector. “I… Think that’s more than enough lessons for tonight, Sir Hector.”

“Nonsense! We start with lesson one,” he slapped Wally on the back. “Poise and confidence.”

Wally grumbled and shook his head, now walking away from Hector as fast as he could.

---

At first light of the next day, the caravan set off again. It was half a day filled with more bizarrely quiet villages before finally, after reaching the top of a steep hill they could see it, Arborledan, capital of Planae. This city, much like Animana, rested behind massive smooth walls that, unlike any other wall, showed no sign of its material components. Whatever the material was, it was shaded in a yellow similar to the sky at sunset, and was properly accented by the city’s huge crimson gates. Towering above it all was a massive tree with no equal, its branches extending from its trunk to well over the city walls. The caravan rolled down the hill and up the road leading to one of the gates only to find it firmly locked with no guards appointed.

“This whole trip’s been too damn quiet,” Rozzi speculated. “Everyone’s all cloistered up, even the capital.”

Hector hopped off the wagon. “Well we can’t waste any more time waiting for someone to mind the gate, we’ll have to get in some other way…” Hector quickly took stock of the challenge ahead of them and the resources at hand, and a smirk of inspiration quickly arose. “Come along Wally, I have a plan!”

Wally quickly followed. “This plan doesn’t involve me blowing a hole in a wall, does it?”

Hector looked for a slight rise near the imposing wall and raised his hands to get a better sense of perspective and distance. “We’d never get through fast enough and draw far too much attention. No, my plan is much faster and involves far less destruction.”

“Okay then, what is it?”

Hector smiled down at him earnestly. “I’m going to throw you over the wall with some rope.”

The wallaby stared at him for a good minute. “So, when you said ‘less destructive’, you meant to the wall, and that all the destruction would be elsewhere, like my bones.”

“Wally, I wouldn’t even consider this a plan if it weren’t for all the amazing things that body of yours can do. I know in my heart you’ll land just fine on the other side.”

His brow furrowed. “Your heart isn’t your brain for a reason you know.”

“Alright then, do you have a better plan? Because we need to get into this city as soon as possible and this is the fastest, most direct path. You push off my hand at the last possible minute so you can make it over the wall, land on the other side, and then use the rope to pull me over.”

Wally slowly looked at wall and thought. He was right, they couldn’t wait for someone to come open the door. They’d just end up being easy targets for another one of Kota’s generals. In fact, the current state of Planae may even be the result of one. It was insane and dangerous but the only plan they had.

Taking a position a decent distance from the wall and leaving his pack on the ground by Hector, Wally tied the rope from Hector’s bag around his waist and allowed himself to be hefted up.

“Now, remember, Push off at the last minute, your legs will be the most important part of this.”

With the textbook image of absolute incredulity plastered onto his face, Wally nodded and braced himself for what will surely be the single most ridiculous moment of his entire life.

Hector readied his arm for the pitch, reared back, and gave Wally the mightiest of throws. Wally kicked off the palm of his hand at the last possible moment and proceeded to rocket through the air with far more ludicrous speed than he could’ve imagined, clearing the wall easily. Too easily as it turns out, for his forward momentum continued on well past the wall and straight through a large stained glass window in a building on the other side. As he hit the polished tile floor within, Wally bounced, then rolled, then skidded to an eventual stop. Had the wind not be knocked out of him on impact, he’d have probably said ‘Ow’.

Painfully lurching himself back onto his feet and wiping bits of glass out of his fur and off his clothes, he was happy to be alive. He was also surprised when he finally looked up and locked eyes with an incredibly shocked Planaetian who’d been putting books back on their shelves. He quickly looked around and found he’d landed in some manner of library, with rows and rows of bookshelves in almost every direction.

Wally was about to try and apologize when the Planaetian waved its hand at him. From around his feet erupted thick and thorny branches, effectively caging him on the spot in an instant. With no other recourse, he sighed and sat down, huffing out the words, “absolutely terrible plan.”

<[Chapter 05]–[Index]–[Chapter 07]>

[sadisticsmiles]

Beyond a Thief’s Power Episode 18

Near but Far from Sight and Tangibility

  Four Months Later

~August 25, 2007~

           Inside an edifice at the top floor, there was an office for the chairman of the company. The lights were off, but the glow of the other companies and shops were illuminating its time of night. Said chairman was sitting in his special seat, staring outside the enormous glass window in front of him. A man with obsidian black hair and flint eyes sighed with irritation in his voice; the suit he wore was vertical striped soot in color with an amber tie over a white dress shirt; he wore charcoal gray socks and metal black dress shoes with thin, rust brown shoe laces. His hair was down, so he had a full set of bangs long enough to cover a portion of his eyes and the sides of his face, making him quite attractive for his appearance which did not have facial hair. His hands were overlapped/clasped superior to his thighs, and he was certainly not in a good mood that night. His eyes narrowed and his contemn gave him the will to speak.

           "Almost everything I've attempted so far has failed," the man muttered. "Many of my men have been captured and killed this year. Only a few of them, including myself remain. I was also unable to get to Sayuri Mitsuyoshi because of these diversions, yet I haven't a clue as to how my plans have been declining from success. Who on Earth is putting a stop to them? I need to find out soon. Her existence depends on the downfall of the owner of this sword at all costs, as well as the rest of the Black Foxes and my daughter-in-law. Or, should I say: daughters-in-law? Thus, the balance of Neon will fall and the only the world of Humans shall remain." He gazed down toward his left arm and a familiar long sword manifested out of nowhere like magic. A sword with a hilt with the shape of the number three, and its beauty displayed quite a few shades of brown. It wasn't every day that very color was known to be gorgeous and attractive in more than one way, but the sword alone was proof of a foreign aesthetic. A devilish smirk spread onto his exquisite visage. "Hehehe... Now, what should I use you for next? I've already altered this world to how I see fit. Everything and everyone that've been erased were quite... inferior to me, should I say? Yet the result of my actions and desires have been foiled by someone I don't know. It could be a group of fighters rather than a single person, but it doesn't matter as long as I can satisfy her. Hahaha. Ahahaha!!"

           The maniacal laughter that escaped from the man's mouth evidently represented his evil-minded plans and way of thinking, yet there was a striking tone to it. It may have sounded familiar and nostalgic, as if it had been inherited by someone. Could there have been someone like him—someone who resembled and was like an attractive man like he was, despite his age? Perhaps so, but who could possibly share this insane (?) man's characteristics?

           ... How frustrating it must have been to be almost a perfect copy of someone. Howbeit it was did not matter. After all, the next thing the man knew, a male voice spoke to him from the sword.

           You may have used my powers to rewrite this world into its current form, but you won't get away with what you've done. She'll suffer even if you try to destroy what's left of the world you were born in. The greed and obsession you have for her salvation isn't going to help her live any further than the time she has left. Your own feelings towards her will only supply her with surviving in the universe until her last moments. Don't you know that, you foolish man? In the end, you'll just go through a pain worse than... No. I don't need to say it when you've already become the person you are today. You'll be the one to lose against fate, anyway. It's ironic how even her father lost to it. And her mother went through the same thing many, many years ago in spite of the curse placed on the magicians. Don't get your hopes up. You've already lost the match.

           "..." The obsidian-haired man stayed silent for a few seconds before his sinister grin reappeared and bared his fangs and teeth. "Hehhh... Now I see. You're full of words and determination, but you don't have the strength to help the ones who are important to you. Well, well. It's too bad, Ains. You'll never see the day when you're reunited with your owner. Because... I'm your master now and you'll only listen to my will, whether you want to or not.

           No further answer came from the sword’s unseen spirit, so the night went on in silence from him.

           With a snap of the chairman’s fingers, he called out, “Hosugo, come to my office.”

           Shortly after a young man entered through the glass door. He appeared to be in his early twenties with a tall stature that matched Riki and Takuto’s heights, and had a neutral facial expression. He had raw umber hair reaching down to the center of his neck, a pair of light rectangular glasses, and iced tea-colored eyes. He wore a mahogany suit with a light salmon button-down shirt and royal purple tie which was tucked under the suit jacket, and dark brown dress shoes.

           “Yes, Sir,” the young man named Hosugo said. “What would you like me to do for you?”

           The obsidian-haired man turned around in his rolling chair with a stern gaze at his subordinate. “Find out who’s been putting my plans out. We’re falling behind in gaining control.”

           Hosugo gave a light bow with his head. “As you wish.” He walked out once his obedience was stated.

  Meanwhile, in Seoul, South Korea

             A man wearing a black helmet, and a full set of black clothes that were pretty light to wear—a zipped up jacket, undershirt, trousers [but no belt], gloves, and ankle boots with thick heels, sped through the city on a motorcycle of the same color as his outfit. On the back of the motorcycle, a trunk was attached—the type that was specifically added for food deliveries. It was also completely black, but was no doubt durable for the fast pace that blurred the shining city’s lighted surroundings. The intriguing quality to it was that it was shaped in the form of a loaded, medium-sized backpack.

           Soon—and very soon it was, the tall motorcyclist reached his destination. He parked the vehicle he rode in the back of a recording studio, which had an empty lot. It made him the only person to have any transportation there, but it did not bother him. He got off the seat and took off his helmet, showing his light tortilla brown eyes and his long cedar hair [which was slightly messy around the top but reached down to his shoulders neatly]. He hung the helmet around the motorcycle hand facing his left and walked toward the back where the backpack was. After picking the food container up and wearing it over his shoulders, he went to the backdoor, took out a silver key, unlocked the door, stepped inside, and shut it behind him; he made sure to lock it before heading to the recording area.

           The young man was in front of a midnight black door with a clear yet ambiguous framed center resembling a mirror glass. On the top of the glass were the words: Recording Area. Straightforward for where he was going. He opened the bronze doorknob that was on the left and walked in. Claire Fioré, the members of Multi-Star Clover, and the other magicians that made up the Hidden Resistance were there.

           “Yo,” Claire greeted. “You’re finally here. With our food, nonetheless.”

           Elizabeth smiled warmly. “We’ve been looking forward to eating together, Kenshi.”

           Kenshi grinned. “Thanks for the welcome, guys.” Without turning around, he gently pushed the door behind him with his right hand. He removed the backpack and placed it on the table, carefully taking out a plastic bag full of canned and bottled beverages first, then the take-out food which was in a large plastic bag which also contained chopsticks and plastic spoons. There were only five white plastic bowls of noodles in account for the Special Humans and Kenshi, as he set them down in front of the people who were about to eat dinner that night.

           “Man, jajangmyeon is superb as always when we’re in South Korea!” Claire exclaimed. “Accompanying everyone else is nice, rather than doing activities and jobs as a celebrity! I don’t miss the time I was one as long as there’s great service!”

           Kokoro glanced at the resistance leader from her right. She was two seats away from him since Elizabeth was sitting between them. “Mou, you’re living an easier life than people give you credit for with the Ministry of Finance in Japan gone, Claire.”

           “Ehehe,” the fiery orange-haired man laughed. “I guess my work load has slightly dropped since then, but we were still aiding the black Foxes from behind the scenes.”

           Kuruha breathed. She was sitting next to Kokoro, on the latter’s left side. “I’d say so myself about you. Even now, we’re still helping them out, but only Kenshi knows about us.”

           “It’s better that way,” Aaron replied. “If they knew, we’d be slowed down and wouldn’t be as efficient in dealing with the 14K.” He folded his arms against his chest. The suit he wore was a reminder of his former occupation as a government official. “Plus, Nao doesn’t either. If the 14K were to find out of her whereabouts, it’d be catastrophic. Mitsuki-senpai, Riki, and the rest of their alliance would also be in more danger than before—most likely captured quickly. Don’t forget about the fact Sayuri and Takuji would be given away as well.” He crossed his right thigh over his left one and tapped the floor with the tip of his black boot [that he wore on his right foot].

           Elizabeth giggled at the sound the teal-haired magician made. “You’re the most professional member of our team, Aaron. At the same time, it makes you adorable.”

           Aaron’s light green eyes shot a menacing look towards the leader of Multi-Star Clover. “Always the playful one here, you are. I should experiment on abandoning you for a while.”

           “Hey, now,” Kenshi smiled at Aaron, who was sitting a few seats ahead, away on his right. “Let’s not joke about these things when there’s so much to do. I admit we shouldn’t tell the rest of the Black Foxes and the whole alliance about us to prevent them from getting into immediate danger. We’re all trying to put in more than out best effort, after all.”

           Aikishi glanced at the sniper of the Black Foxes next to him with serene eyes. “That’s correct. We all have our parts in helping everyone.” He turned around and took a big marble tray with a white teapot which had a sparkling golden leaf design all over, and several matching teacups, using his hands. Then, he turned around once more. “Although humans have their own drinks, I should serve the magicians here with Neon’s honey and lime tea.”

           Kenshi kept smiling. “The ingredients are wonderful. You guys have plants that make the gemstone versions of many things.”

           His eyes narrowed as he entered his thoughts and watched the male co-manager of the girls’ group go around the area. I wonder if Mom is doing alright without me. I kind of miss her hot tea, but I have the Hidden Resistance with me now. I shouldn’t complain about these things.

           Kuruha glanced at Kenshi while stirring her noodles. “…”

           Meanwhile, Manjuki sat down next to Kenshi. She had a plate of Neon’s tamagoyaki and croquettes surrounding a bowl of plain ramen. Glancing at the human male on her right, she smiled faintly in her normal manner. “If you don’t mind, Kenshi, you could eat some of my food, but not the ramen.”

           Kenshi sweat-dropped. “So just the smaller dishes you have with you…”

           “Of course,” the purpureus-haired magician answered. A set of power white chopsticks appeared in the air near her bowl and she took them in her right hand.

           The cedar-haired man could not help but enjoy the sight. He finally took his seat and looked at the older woman in front of him. “…Just plain ramen without anything else in it is like you, Manjuki. All these years haven’t changed your tastes, and magicians have never eaten spicy food.”

           “You certainly know how to pull a dull joke on me,” Manjuki replied while meeting Kenshi’s gaze with her own. “It’s obvious we can’t for our bodies’ sakes, yet you point out our flaws.” Using her chopsticks, she picked up one of the croquettes and placed it on a small white plate that suddenly appeared on the left of Kenshi’s jajangmyeon bowl. Afterward came a roll of tamagoyaki.

           Kenshi looked at the small dish he had. “Thanks.”

           No reply came back from Manjuki as she ate in silence with Kenshi doing the same thing. The cedar-haired former firefighter continued in his mind.

           It really feels like we’re back to the old days when Manjuki was around. She didn’t interact much, but she was with us for some time before she became busier with work. At the same time, she exuded an aura like an older sister figure to Takuto, Hiro, and myself included. Perhaps it’s because she’s older than us, but I adore that about her. It was rare to have someone who gave even a tiny bit of encouragement by her presence alone, so being with her puts me at ease.

           Minagi ate her bread with a golden jam on it in silence and the other HR members gazed at Manjuki and Kenshi. Futaba and Aaron had tea together, while Elise and Aikishi were eating some sliced fruit (aka gemstones) from their world with silver forks.

  XXX

             It was also nighttime in Ginza and the group in Le Renard Noir were inside as usual. Hiro was standing in front of the room that Kenshi and Takuto used to reside in. Ever since the dawn in which the Human World changed, Takuto had moved over the room that was to the left of where this one was [from where Hiro was facing]. Hiro then closed his eyes and placed his right palm on the door. His head lowered a bit and he made a prayer.

           Please, he thought. Kenny, wherever you are… Please be safe. The last for months without you were my regret—my secret regret.

           He opened his eyes with wavering emotion.

           The women in our group and the rest of the alliance trust that you’re alright, but… I miss you, you know. I really do.

           Ibuki stepped toward Hiro with a calm smile. “Hiro, you’re diligent as ever for Kenshi’s sake. However, it’s still my room now, so I hope Sayuri doesn’t get jealous over this. A guy with a girlfriend shouldn’t do such a misleading thing, after all.” She let out a giggle. “Ehehe. I’m quite happy I get to live with you all, but I do wish Kenshi were here with us.”

  ~April 13th at 10:43 p.m.~

             Inside the Yanase mansion, Ibuki was standing near her bed. Her health had been much better that year and she was finally a high school student. Due to her past circumstances, she could not attend school; thus, she was homeschooled her whole life until then. The academy’s principal knew of Ibuki’s life so far, and was able to arrange for an exception in enrolling her. It felt as though miracles had been brought forth for her with ridding her body of illness and her main wish of going to school granted. It would also be a matter of time before Riki would ask about any love interests in her life.

           She smiled contently and let out a giggle at the thought of her older brother of ten years being even more overprotective of her. Their father was not around to check on them anymore, but it could not be helped for Ibuki to be lonelier than Riki. She only had their maid Kikuno with her for everything she needed. Then, her pink flip phone rang and the caller ID on it was her brother’s name. She instantly picked it up and opened it to answer.

           “Riki, what is it?” she inquired. “It’s late at night for you to call me.”

           Riki let out a long sigh on the other end. His eyes narrowed in a melancholic fashion to go with the simultaneous frown on his visage. “Ibuki… I know this is going to be tough for you to hear, but Kenshi’s missing from our group.”

           Ibuki’s innocent eyes widened with confusion overpowering her surprise. “…What?”

           “Sorry,” her big brother apologized. “It’s been a few days, but he’s not with us. I’ve… failed to look after him properly.” His shoulders fell in sorrow. “I was wondering if you could keep everyone else and I company, especially when it’s only you and Kikuno in the mansion. That way, it’d be easier for you to go to school with me taking you there everyday. I’m not the best person there is in the world, but what do you want to do?”

           Ibuki felt a budding growth within her—the loneliness she felt would be erased and she was given the opportunity to be with her older brother, Mitsuki, and the others who were currently in Le Renard Noir. She could finally have a family again after her hardships she endured.

           Without any hesitation, she closed her eyes, smiled, and nodded. “Yes! I’d be glad to go with you, Onii-chan!”

           The overflowing sensation in her entire body would not dissipate that night. She packed as much as she could and Riki picked her up in his car right after she was done. He had taken her to Le Renard Noir and she was welcomed without any objections.

             Back in the present, Ibuki’s smile did not falter. She was still jubilant to live with the guys.

           Hiro turned towards her, and laughed awkwardly. “Haha… You know how it is, Ibuki. I’m hoping for Kenny to return to our side by Christmas, if not soon! He used to stink up the room when he was here, but he’s a hilarious butt monkey to us.” He closed his eyes and placed his right index finger on his cheek. “Anyhow, Sayuri knows how I feel in regards to Kenny’s disappearance, so she’s completely fine with my daily routine of being here.”

           “Hahaha!” Riki’s younger sister laughed. “You’re funny, Hiro. Though, I’m positive it’s because you’re worried about him. Aside from you, there’s Riki, who cares for you all. Kenshi wouldn’t think poorly of you and the others for anything that’s happened. Knowing him, that is. But to think you used to be such a playboy back then makes it strange for you to date a young lady…”

           Hiro sighed. “I’m not that type of guy anymore.” He placed his hand over his heart. “Sayuri’s my true love!” Then, he gazed at the seventeen-year-old girl in awe. “Ibuki, you really know how to read people.” He gave her a smile. “Riki’s raised you well.”

           “Geez, Hiro!” Ibuki pouted. “I’m not a little girl anymore!”

           “Well, you’re still in high school, so you’re underaged,” Hiro jested. “You haven’t matured much, you know!”

           In her offended state, Ibuki went on with conversing with Hiro. The childhood friendship they had brought them into a teasing sibling relationship. Being roommates in Le Renard Noir was a nostalgic experience for them, and the group downstairs felt the same way.

           Rina glanced at Riki and smiled tenderly. “Ibuki certainly loves Riki and the rest of us.”

           “I can guarantee her love for him isn’t as strong as it used to be,” Takuto scoffed. “He may be her older brother, but there’s someone manlier than Riki in our group.”

           Takuto’s words struck a nerve with the former government official, who was now an LRN employee along with Hiro. Before Riki could argue, Atsumu chimed in.

           “Oh?” the bar owner said with interest, appearing from the kitchen. He had shaved his beard off on the thirteenth of April after everyone had finished their celebration for Taiga and Nao’s upcoming wedding. That very change attracted more customers, especially the ladies who came by, with his youthful looks. “Are you talking about me, Takkun? I’m flattered such a young lady would express any interest in my refined qualities.”

           Riki was instantaneously irate at that point. “As if I’d ever let Ibuki date someone over half her age! You’re not her type, Boss.”

           Takuto was repulsed but indifferent. “Ew, you’re disgusting even without the beard.” He exhaled afterward. “Can we call the police on his pedophilic tendencies?”

           Atsumu smiled drolly. “Relax, men. I’m only kidding. I have no true interest in any of the women here.”

           “So you like men,” Takuto remarked quickly.

           “Of course not!” the bar owner protested. “You’re making fun of me as always, Takkun. Nothing’s changed about you after all this time, so I would appreciate it if you didn’t twist things out of proportion.”

           “No frickin’ way,” the light blond replied. A smirk abruptly spread onto his visage. “That’d be no fun if I started to quit!”

           Rina glanced at her ex-boyfriend. “Takuto, don’t be so harsh towards Boss.”

           “Fine,” Takuto compromised. He turned his head towards his best friend. “There’s a replacement for Beardless right here.” His smirk came back as soon as he finished his sentence. “Looks like Hiro was right about you being a siscon, Riki. He’s as accurate about people as always, so don’t try to deny it.”

           Riki’s firm frown indicated his annoyance. “There’s no possibility of me being one, you dolt. I’m a perfectly normal older brother to Ibuki.”

           “Someone who loves his blood-related younger sister so much and is always butting into her business has no right to say they aren’t,” the light blond retorted, aloof as ever.

           “You little…” Riki’s eyebrows furrowed before he trailed off. “…It’s no use trying to argue with you, is it?”

           “Glad you understand,” Takuto said. He opened his laptop, which had been on the table he was sitting at. “After my last one was destroyed by Sayuri, this spare one from home has become durable with the information I need. Takuji told us we didn’t need to do anything, but who knows when we’ll be needed again after these past few months?”

           Riki gazed at Takuto, amazed at the programmer’s resolve. “Takuto…”

           Without moving his eyes away from his electronic device, Takuto asked, “What?”

           “Thanks,” the black-haired LRN employee said. “For not giving up.”

           “…” Takuto’s eyes narrowed. “Whatever. You may not be as leader-like as you were before, but it doesn’t mean you should just stop after hearing the orders to take a rest. However, you’ve at least become less workaholic.”

           It can’t be that simple for us to let whoever’s with Kenny to do everything, he thought. I can’t let my guard down in case something ends up happening. I’ve got to take another scan for any updates.

           Rina’s gaze on Takuto had not moved away for a while. Her eyes were filled with concern for her former lover’s determination.

           Takuto… she called out in her mind.

           Suddenly, an intense pain shot through her heart. She placed both her hands over her left breast and her facial expression displayed the agony she was enduring. She opened her eyes to see Takuto’s back once more.

           I need to go home before I end up worrying everyone, she noted to herself.

           Rina vanished and teleported back to the Tokuhara residence in Neon, collapsing on the floor in her room. On the other side in Le Renard Noir, Riki’s eyes widened. He had just seen Rina having a hard time staying in the Human World. Atsumu shot him a glance and shook his head.

           Not a word to Takkun, understand? Atsumu’s eyes were conveying the words he wanted to say aloud.

           Riki nodded, making sure not to disturb and catch the programmer’s attention. Gotcha. Rina doesn’t want to worry him, too.

           The wavy-haired brunet smiled. Shortly afterward, Mitsuki came in to check on the guys after folding the laundry in the room she shared with her husband. She smiled at the sight of the guys on the first floor. While there had been some tension before she came in, there was currently a sense of tranquility. She walked up to Riki and hugged him from behind, causing him to turn around from his right side and smile at her. Takuto was still going through the data stored within his laptop while Atsumu entered the kitchen to fetch some water for the others, excluding Mitsuki.

  XXX

             Ikebukuro was once a city that had people living in it. The people who had resided in it had panicked on April 13th after a news report had told of the new changes to the Human World, and fled to other cities or towns within Japan; some had taken flights to the other countries that were still in existence. People worldwide were shocked, astonished, frightened, and so on of what had happened. Billions of people, many countries, most of the continents, the seas were erased and the world had become smaller with only one sea in place of the previous ones. In truth, a couple of magicians were residing it the ghost city that used to be full of people. Furthermore, Sayuri was with the couple who had a shrine up ahead, staying in the family temple that existed after the Human World’s changes. The room the three of them were in was of course, a tradition Japanese one.

           A young woman with long, knee-length parakeet green hair and mauve eyes smiled pleasantly while standing. She wore a plain white kimono. “Sayuri,” she began, “how are you holding up?”

           “I’m fine,” the orange-haired magician responded. “It can’t be helped to stay in hiding with the 14K still acting up these days.”

           The woman lightly frowned. “Indeed. Finding Ains is a difficult task for you to partake in without the likelihood of encountering his immense power and placing yourself in danger.”

           Sayuri looked down. “We shouldn’t rely too much on Nao-san to aid us. Her powers alone aren’t enough for us to take on Roxanne Feris and her most trusted subordinate. The other members of the 14K are attempting to regain their former glory, but to take them down constantly is tiresome.”

           A young man with blood red hair and myrtle green eyes nodded. He was stoic and did not show any signs of altering his facial expression. He wore a black kimono with a smoke gray swirling pattern where his left shoulder and upper left portion of his torso, along with nearly half the corresponding sleeve. “The Human World drains our powers, but at least Ikebukuro has become a place where we can recover more than the spring you lured the Black Foxes to. The orbs gave some temporary means of healing Rina and now, Mitsuki-san. Nao-san’s connection as one of the third generation Great Family members to Kousuke and Asuka is merely someone who’s been around to take them outside the palace. Living without their parents around can be stifling to the blood descendants of the royal family; Haonowa-sama and Minato-sama don’t flaunt sentiments around so easily. Maintaining order is what a member of the Great Families should do. Rina’s a despicable exception, but not as traitorous as Mitsuki-san is. To abandon the duties and put a dent in dishonoring Neon is one of the worst things to do.”

           The magician with parakeet green hair glanced to her left without so much a movement of her head, but still had her smile. “Kei, some things have changed since Rina’s trial. You know that as well as the other magicians.”

           “She may be our family, but I don’t forgive her for being free to do as she likes,” Kei asserted his hatred of Rina. “She’s your cousin, but also my cousin-in-law.” He exhaled—it was a sigh, yet he was completely neutral. “I’m not soft like our king and Takuji. Kousuke’s too kind for his own good that Asuka is also nice to a fault.”

           The young woman replied, “It’s alright. Without Kousuke’s intervention, Rina’s existence wouldn’t be here now. The Great Families have a balance in Neon because heirs to the households must be alive. I don’t count as the head of the Tokuhara family since we’ve been split between two different main surnames from the start because of Shizune-san and Hajime-san.”

           Kei placed both his hands on his hips. “I suppose I shouldn’t put too much blame on Rina, but she’s still a lawbreaker, Io.”

           Sayuri gazed at the couple she was with and her eyes had a yearning look in them. “It’d be nice if you were more honest towards Rina, Kei. We all used to hang out together—you, Io, Takuji, Miyuki, Rina, and I. The six of us were together in high school, but we’ve all changed since then.” She paused before a small smile appeared on her face. “You and Io are a great couple, by the way.”

           Kei stared at his friend and said, “You’ve grown a bit softer too after your training and coming to the Human World, Sayuri. Must be thanks to your human boyfriend, whom you’re missing at the moment.”

           “Our objectives come before romance,” Sayuri answered; her smile had disappeared when she spoke. “I can’t let my feelings for Hiro overshadow our plans to stop Roxanne and her henchmen.”

           “Then, I’ll have to help with finding Ains,” the blood red-haired magician responded. “We shouldn’t rely so much on the previous generations of magicians to do more for us.”

           “Yes,” Io said with a stern facial expression. “It’s time to regain what’s been lost and end this long whirl of conflicts.”

           Sayuri’s eyes had an agreeing emotion as she entered her thoughts.

           Ains… Wherever you are, stay strong and don’t give hope. We’ll find you and take you back to Rina. I promise you that much.

[bornfromscarletcords]

A Wolf Story

Like many societies this one had its legends, though absolutes were a far cry from the typical suspicion or superstition of the masses. It was generally agreed that four great lords were responsible for the shaping or reshaping of their world, but as to who these lords were or why they appeared there was as much dispute as there was doubt. There was little information as to what existence was like before their intervention, if there was a before outside of folklore and old childhood stories, but supposedly humans were a more dominant species in those times or at the very least a more encounterable. As things were, the terrain we will sort of monitor was dominated primarily by werewolves. There were rumors that near the beginning vampires may have held regional supremacy, but none were precisely sure just how the first werewolves were connected to the species. They could have been subjugated by the night peoples, or their curses may have left them both mutually and grudgingly tied to the fate of one another, and still some believed that they simply shared a similar ancestor, possibly in one of the great four lords, who may have been something like a hybrid or proto species. Who’s to say, it was a long time ago. As things were the vampires were a pretty rare lot to encounter in this era, there were no great courts to speak of as they had long since fallen, the vampires were generally uncooperative and the werewolves broke up any large gatherings they found in the region. Still vampires were pretty powerful as far as individual creatures of magic went, but the werewolves were organized and individually strong in their own right.  

A companion species was developed alongside the werewolves after the need for more violent solutions to regional territory disputes diminished. Some simply called themselves dog-shifters, but others claimed what was perhaps a more tribal or cultural monicker of “hunding”. Most were pretty sure the hunding were descended from the werewolves in some way, possibly due to their generally congenial relation to one another; werewolves rarely got along with any type of outsider, yet most didn’t mind their doggish neighbors one bit. Although it should be clear that anything can be felled or killed under the right circumstances or even with a great amount of determination or energetic momentum, the werewolves were commonly considered much more deadly than the hunding. An analogy might explain things better. The werewolves were like samurai compared to the general population of hunding who were like your modern japanese. They shared much of the same genetic structure and even some heritage but their focus of survival was often extremely deviated. Werewolves, in general came from a “we could die at any moment and existence is mostly agony paired with perverse carnal sweetness” type of mindset and cultural education whereas the hunding operated on a “carpe diem, isn’t it amazing just to be here” type of mentality. In many ways it had something to do with their difference in shifting. Werewolves could change from beast to more “human-like” visages with awkward painful, grotesque spasms which could last up to twenty minutes, maybe more on a bad day. The hunding shifted more or less instantaneously with little to no pain. This may also explain the difference in potency of their magic as werewolves seemed to operate, rather bizarrely on a sustained critical threat level of meditation which could boost their effectiveness to strange extremes. The hunding had a similar range of magic and biological prowess, super strength, speed, senses, healing and a capacity to connect with one another through an exchange of energies centered around a pack like structure, but these traits often emerged in a diluted fashion and far less frequently as far as population concentration went. On the other hand, where werewolves sexually reproduced rarely and with much discomfort (not that sex was uncomfortable but navigating violent changes with a fetus inside of you was difficult at the best of times; mostly impossible) the hunding did so with great ease. Some werewolves even looked to the hunding as a source for viable reproductive partners, which mostly worked, though it could create many tensions between the species.    

The werewolves, do to the violence needed to change humans into one of their kind, and the trouble of reproducing amongst their own people, were generally somewhat small in population size which was not exactly a bad thing as even in lower numbers they could devastate neighboring communities to gross extremes. Still this sort of biological isolation could call them to take on apprentices from their own ranks or the hunding. It was not uncommon for a family of wolves or some of their more influential pack members to form ceremonial ties with hunding lineages who more or less managed their estates or served as their honored guards. Some went so far as to claim something of a death bond with their companions sharing in eachother’s energies, powers and strength though also risking to take on eachothers pain and demise should one or the other fall in battle. It was some real gangster stuff.

There were of course other creatures of interest in this land but if they want their story told they can tell it themselves, though we suppose it doesn’t hurt to mention that every now and then a band or lone wanderer fashioning themselves in the manner of coyotes would pass by, often causing more trouble than they stopped mind you. Our focus will instead shift to a somewhat humorous member of the community, a werewolf named Daniel Blackwood. Daniel was something like four hundred years old though most mistook him for a newly made wolf due to his general avoidance of responsibility, his possibly artificially constructed aura of immaturity, and his habit of drifting into somewhat risky bestial behaviors. The last one was common for the newly turned due to their unfamiliar relationship with their wolves, but many suspected that Daniel had always been more wolf than man anyway, though his mastery of puppy dog eyes and pining could often tempt them to forget it. His great grandmother, who was also a werewolf, more or less ran his surviving family, and when she wasn’t busy marching them around like a psuedo army, she was trying to make him into a more respectable member of the community, which often meant trying to make him challenge one of the alphas or advance in position in the local pack. As things were he was content to make comic books, and tutor some of the remnants of his brother’s dojo which had been left in his care after he died. He was not surprised, though thoroughly annoyed when his great grandmother had took it upon herself to revive an alliance of sorts with one of the hunding families and so, after abandoning his brothers estate to the dog shifters who had cared for it for years, as, he was quoted saying “it was more theirs than mine anyway” he was still shackled to some of the more questionable traditions of his family.  

The hunding he was paired with was a female named Bethany, and she was “pretty hot” as he said it, with nice curly brown hair, a healthy ruddy complexion, “A great rack” as he also said, and strong form trained for fighting. His grandmother explained that she was to be his guard, his sword, shield, and companion through war and peace. Though what she meant was “put a baby in her so that I can raise cute children and finally get some use out of you.” Daniel was tempted by the allure of her...hot flesh, but interacting with others was not his strong suit, and the prospect of creating life was disturbing to him at the best of times. Although werewolves would mostly live until they were killed, either in combat, or by each other, stuck in a state of fit youthful adulthood, the hunding had slightly more conventional deathspans. They could survive for a while, often reaching the end of their adolescents within their first ten years of breathing, and from their aging at about a tenth the rate of most humans, and though few did it was not impossible to see some, a bit grey haired and wrinkly, who survived to about a thousand years. So one of the plans Daniel was relying on involved more or less outliving his new companion. She was supposedly something like two hundred years old but Daniel was as patient as he was unorthodoxly cunning.       

Daniel played a game called Cardinal Beasts or something like that. It mostly dealt with a strange balancing of cosmic energies using alchemic elements as well as primal world knowledge. In theory it could be used for anything as a player could just as simply build a row of stone buildings as they could a band of shape shifting hunters. Daniel’s style was focused around the grooming of chaos with his signature formula dealing with the sacrifice/hunting of foxes. Oddly enough, amongst his people, he was known as one of the best fox trackers and enders in the terrain as the creatures were fond of drifting too close to the affairs of werewolves, so perhaps he was a man of oddly sturdy positioning. His weapon of choice in both cards and flesh was typically a crossbow though his method relied very much on the subtle rearranging of his opponents terrain under the cover of an array of invisibility. This “cloak” of sorts was made of many cards both offensive and defensive though it’s effectiveness was boosted to extraordinary extremes by a perverse sense of timing which was one of Daniel’s more mysterious talents.

There was another person who was almost as quality a player as Daniel, another werewolf named Louis. People weren’t exactly sure just how old or young Louis was as he had a habit of feeding people to their own perceptions or assumptions and so was often as old, as young, as tall, as short, as beautiful or as ugly as people wanted or needed him to be. All he required was for them to witness. Louis had a slightly different style though it was no less effective in it’s own right. Louis was known for his ability to destroy other werewolves, both in cards and in flesh. He had a tendency to make a pack eat or run down his target which was often one of their own, or pulling those powerful within their terrains out of said those terrains often of their own volition. The latter method was often simpler to explain away if too much questioning dialogue was drawn or crafted. He could occasionally disguise himself as one of the packmembers, no one in particular, just a passing face they had no reason not to recognize. This allowed him to kill from the inside out. If he was destroying a whole pack he could utilize a band of crafty huntsmen or the local army encampment, or a strange spell he could summon but would not hold due to his natural suspicion about magic. You could say that he was cloaked in his own way as well.

Though both well armored and well armed, instead of being annoyed by the presence of the other they seemed to be more or less entertained by the other’s existence as well as eager to test their skills against the other’s hand. Some outsiders would even host bets on who would best who on which day or turn, and if we’re being honest, it was a vaguely lucrative source of fun, if slightly tragic.

Occasionally When Daniel Went hunting, he would invite Louis to accompany him. Of course Bethany was there as well, which often put Louis on edge because he did not entirely trust the hunding or anyone for that matter. It seemed that a partner in cards to him was much different from the bodyguard of your packmember. Louis was often curious about observing Daniel’s patterns in the flesh, and though Daniel’s prey was often more vulpine, Louis returned the favor by occasionally inviting him to observe him bring justice to a wolf who had broken a few too many laws. Daniel was never entirely sure if these had been official jobs, as Louis was a member of the local system of enforcement, but he tried not to forget that some people were always looking for a golden opportunity to fell something which was most likely already teetering downward. Louis might say something like “accelerating the inevitable”.

They took horses with them for this mission. There had been reports of bandits near one of the villages hugging some of the common roads for cargo transport. The fox-changers or the Vulpine-Exchange as some of the more organized gatherings called themselves were generally opportunistic. Most were foolish though resourceful, but a rare few actually had a degree of genuine cleverness to them. Most were dangerous for one reason or another but the latter breed could apply this danger to a wide assembly of profits, or concentrated and long lasting societal/cultural wounds. Humans wished they were so effective, and though they could be annoying for different reasons, generally speaking they were more or less buffers for the cosmic forces of true greatness. It was for this reason Daniel didn’t mind routing out some rogues or highwaymen, but having to squash a couple of humans was boring work, and a sign that his senses had been keen but not keen enough to capture the great prey he had been tracking. They were pretty quick these foxes, and flexible, like cats but with greater familiarity to more lupine or canine mannerisms. If curiosity killed the cat, hilarity killed the fox.

The three dismounted and killed the first of the bandits patrolling their choke points. They were mostly human but Daniel managed to land a killing blow on one of the foxes in disguise. He wasn’t exactly sure what fueled their transformations, they had a habit of disrupting rules rather than adhering to them, though one had once suggested that they each paid subtly differing tithes to allow themselves the shifting of shape. This was a slight relief to daniel as he feared they were simply dumb witches or skinwalkers with too much time on their hands but it seemed they actually did have some culture and art to claim. He’d even read somewhere that certain lineages held special skills. They tracked around for a while, picking off  foxy stragglers, before a taste of their blood revealed the location of their primary den which was, more or less an oddly contorted dimensional cave.

Daniel was more or less entertained though Louis seemed disturbed and Bethany was busy keeping her sword at the ready and trying to be less irked by her wolf’s peculiar disinterest in her. She believed herself quite interesting and though she’d been weird she’d been liked well enough. Well, in truth most people believed her to be something of a pariah and pretty bitchy at times but those who had sat down and actually talked to her knew that her bitchiness was a pretty smart survival tactic. Daniel didn’t seem to care either way though, he just seemed to like killing things and drawing, often drifting into maniacal laughter with both hobbies. The fox-changers put up a pretty good fight, but they’d stumbled on them during their meal time, which meant they were mostly unprepared, but gods were their traps as peculiar as they were plentiful. Much of Louis confusion came from the fact that, you could say, he was used to having more honorable prey, though honor didn’t always make for a useful person. Having to deal with so much lawlessness and blatant perversion of anything resembling stability, was a little too much for his usual sensibilities.

They killed the chief fox-changer, and were going to leave things there; well Daniel wanted to take his head as a confirmation of completion but Bethany told him his habits were too disgusting sometimes, so he rolled his eyes and relented. Instead though they were confronted with a conundrum of sorts. There were three foxes left which they had missed in the carnage. One looked something like an adult perhaps the mother or an older sister, as she still looked young enough. The second girl seemed smack dab in the middle of adolescence, while the boy seemed to be just teetering towards its edge. He had sandy hair, the oldest long dark waves, and the middle a short fiery crown with freckles. They were all pale of skin as opposed to Louis and Daniels very dark almost smoky complexions. The oldest more or less pleaded for their lives, saying that they had been abducted by this band who had terrible plans in mind for their persons before the lupine intervention liberated them. She said she’d do anything if they took them in, which got some of the more devilish ideas in Daniel’s mind cooking, but Louis stated that the pack would frown on inviting strangers into their domain. Then the woman, who was sister to the younger two, said that she would even sell herself into slavery if they’d provide for the other two. It was at this point that Daniel felt a little uneasy about it all, as if all at once he was becoming too much the bad guy in this particular cosmic play, and though he could play a mean archvillain, this was all much too petty for his tastes. He said he’d hire them as his servants if that would stop her from disgracing herself so damn much. It was depressing as he put it.

At this Bethany gave him a mildly horrified expression, looking a little sad as if he was going to replace her. He rolled her eyes and assured her that he doubted those sorry sacks would be as good in a brawl as she was. This seemed to put a little more fire back into her bearing, but Daniel was still disturbed by the quality execution of her puppy dog eyes. He almost started petting her. That would have been awkward. Louis was still weary of the “cargo” they had to escort home, though Daniel made it clear that he had done far more questionable deeds in his own right so he had no reason to complain, plus they could confirm that they had, in fact accomplished their mission.

The young boy was short tempered but witty, the middle sister was competitive but contemplative, and the oldest sister was creative but clearly manipulative. Daniel found it hard to explain to strangers why he found keeping what many would consider his mortal enemies as household fellows so thrilling. He told them it was purely an educational experience, but he couldn’t help remarking the sexiness of the females, the hot feuds which rose up between Bethany and the dark haired fox woman as they vied for his acknowledgement of their prowess, and the potential the younger ones presented of being able to train viable apprentices. It seemed their own kind had treated them just as bad as anyone else had, so they had few problems learning a few tricks to tracking  down their kin and running them through.

The boy’s name was Sean, the middle girl Charlotte, and the oldest girl Margot. Apparently the life spans of their kind varied as much as their skillset and lineage traits, with some being as ancient as the first stones, and others capping at seventeen years of age. Charlotte suggested that their time shifted based on who they surrounded themselves with, and harkened it back to something their dead parents told them about the company you keep. Sean was about 12, Charlotte was something like 16, and Margot was 19. Of course this was all in fox years so Daniel had no absolute idea how it translated into wolf logic.

Margot seemed to like trying to tempt Daniel to allow her into his bed, and she almost had him a couple of times but he was a crafty man himself. Still in his dreams he all but unhinged using her and his desires as he pleased. When he foiled her schemes she seemed to like trying to make him jealous by flirting up visitors, but Daniel had long since given up on romantic ideals, except in stories of course, so many of her actions were wasted. Still this did not stop him from occasionally requiring Bethany to share his sleeping quarters because “he had a bad feeling that night” or him inquiring about Charlotte's occasional “nightmares” and how she might want someone warm to hold her while she slept. It was not a surprise to anyone except maybe sean that these rather hot nights directly corresponded to Margot’s lack of restraint in her affections. .   

[mountphoenixrp]

We have a new citizen in Mount Phoenix:

                             Raijin, the God of Lightning, Thunder and Storms,                                             whose origins stem from Ancient Japan.                                             He is now a member of the city council.

FC NAME/GROUP: Matsuyama Kenichi; Actor GOD NAME: Raiden/Raijin PANTHEON: Japanese OCCUPATION: Council Member. HEIGHT: 5′11″ WEIGHT: about 150lbs, give or take DEFINING FEATURES: He has several white-ink tattoos that resemble lightning, spreading over his shoulder blades, shoulders, and his upper arms to his elbows as well as down his spine. He sometimes wears a red mask representing his Oni (demon) form, as well as as the straw hat and robes attributed to his feudal era humanoid form, while wandering the forest with the demon wolf Raiju, his companion; he’s a bit of a traditionalist.

PERSONALITY:                     Raiden seems outwardly calm and collected, very reasonable and level-headed in contrast to the tumultuous temperament he’s known for…at least in Council meetings. Really, it’s just a product of age; he’s just learned how to compose himself when it’s necessary to make a decent impression…or assure that things happen the way hso. He’s manipulative, but not usually maliciously so…at least not often.                      The old stormy temper he’s known for is in fact there. He has little patience for inane questions and small talk, and he’s quick to bluntly tells someone when they’re being a damn idiot. He is not one to suffer fools, and there are times when he loses his temper so dramatically that a storm will roll in overhead or lightning will randomly strike a tree. Doesn’t even have to be a tree that is nearby.                      He does have his fun-loving side, though, and like most Japanese deities and spirits he’s known to cause mischief and general chaos when the mood strikes. He enjoys dancing at clubs, which can be an amusing sight considering he’ll be dancing like a pro but his expression will be completely unreadable. His sense of humor runs to the deadpan and the sarcastic more often than not, and he tends to have a lot of inside jokes with himself that he often forgets to explain to others and just laughs on his own.                      As a father…well, like most deities he’s likely to miss all your softball games and not bat an eye, but he’ll be one of the first to break someone’s nose (or worse) for even just talking shit about one of his kids. Pray for your soul if you happen to actually hurt one of them, physically or otherwise. He has effectively kept an ongoing war of two going for thousands of years with his own brother, just imagine what he’d do to someone not in the family.

HISTORY:                     One of the elder Shinto gods born of Izanagi and Izanami, the gods responsible for the creation of Japan, Raiden was tasked with protecting Japan alongside his brother Fujin, the god of winds and typhoons. Raiden came into being following the death of Izanami, who had perished birthing the fire god. After Izanagi had gone to the Underworld to find Izanami, then fled at her now hellish visage against her will, Raiden was one of several spirits that she sent after Izanagi to retrieve him.                      Following the births of Amaratsu, Tsukiyomi, and Susano-o, Raiden mostly kept to himself and his duties, until his rivalry with his brother Fujin came to a head. The two have since continuously fought for lordship over the skies, resulting in typhoons and hurricanes that plague Japan to the modern era. One would think they would be willing to work together, but the bitterness between them apparently runs so deep that they will sometimes shirk their protection duties in favor of attacking one another on sight.                      Why? Good question.                      There is a great deal of speculation among the family as to why Raiden and Fujin just seem to piss one another off by being in general proximity to one another, from rational and reasonable theories involving an unforgivable act at the hands of one or the other, to something as childish as “this is my side, you stay on your side”. If he was being honest, even Raiden isn’t really sure anymore why the fighting continues, but it does. His brother literally brings out the worst in him.                      Following the great storms that turned away the invading Mongols in the 1200s, the two brothers constantly argued over who was responsible and who deserved the lion’s share of the credit. Each fight would result in bigger and bigger storms, to the point they were damaging the home they were meant to protect. Over time, the two agreed to only meet at certain points in the year to duel, which is what would become known as monsoon season.                      After the devastation of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Raiden began to take a more proactive approach when it came to humanity, at least for a time. Taking human form, he went down to the islands to help with tending to survivors and the wounded; he had fully intended to join the war himself, and to a degree he was able to here and there under the guise of doing his job (as with the Mongols) but he was forbidden from traveling away from the islands to attack the enemy directly, which caused him endless frustration. Over 100,000 people dead, and he was unable to avenge them fully. After that, he found himself at ground level more and more frequently, experiencing humanity first hand rather than from a distance. He had his own little whirlwind romances, had children, even wrote a book or two. He would stay for a year or so, maybe two, returning for his yearly meetings with his brother, before tiring of the inane, monotonous lives of humans and returning to the skies.                      But, like all gods and oni, Raiden gets bored. That boredom and capricious nature is part of what led him to Mt. Phoenix. The old gods, while still important in Japan, were fading with the times, and he simply sought a way to feel important again. Relevant. Maybe meet some of his kids and hope they don’t try to throw lightning in his face? Though his decision to join the Council was initially a random whim, he seems to have found at least a semi-comfortable place among the other gods involved (even if he doesn’t necessarily like them all). While it may seem a bit selfish, he enjoys having his voice and opinions heard and taken into consideration, and as such manages to offer rather reasonable ideas and commentary; feeding his ego turns him into a tamer, more reasonable creature. Who knew?                      After several months away from the island due to “family business”, Raiden has returned with Raiju in tow to resume his duties with the Council.

POWERS: Raiden has the ability to summon storms on a whim (usually in anger), as well as control various individual aspects of these storms such as summoning a light rain or a small raincloud in a controlled area (for watering plants, putting out fires, or raining on someone’s parade), using controlled winds to allow for short-distance flight and hovering/slowing his descent from a fall or jump (he can’t use winds for much else seeing as that is his brother’s area and not his own), and summoning a lightning strike from the sky or creating and directing a jolt of lightning from his hands. Generally he’s used his abilites strictly for combat in the past, but in more modern times he’s started determining ways to use them in more practical, mundane ways; more than once he’s given a young human’s car battery a jolt to allow them to get home safely, or helped a farmer water their crops during a drought by summoning rain. He has also kept the lightning beast Raiju with him in the form of an oversized wolf (his size varies from normal wolf sized to large enough to ride on the back of); the companionship of a familiar being helps to keep him grounded.

STRENGTHS: Goal-oriented and organized when he needs to be, which are useful traits when it comes to working with a committee. He’s loyal almost to a fault when it comes to those he deems “friends”, whether they want him as a friend or not; even if you don’t realize Raiden considers you a friend, should you be in trouble he’ll be one of the first to swoop in and help. In some ways he’s a traditionalist and he values honor and when he makes a promise he keeps it. WEAKNESSES: He does have a bit of a short fuse, even if it has calmed a bit with age, and he’s been known to hold a grudge as strong as any of the rest of the Japanese pantheon. As with the storms he summons, his manner is somewhat chaotic, goals shifting on a whim if things aren’t going his way or he gets bored. He doesn’t always follow rules to a T, preferring to follow his own code or bend the supplied rules; in D&D terms (a game he actually played in the 90s) he’s the definition of True Neutral, and this can be a problem when it comes to being in charge of, well…anything. At times he completely lacks motivation, preferring to just do “everything”, “whatever”, or worse “nothing”.