#...the Officer's Academy students would probably wear their uniforms like that

[mostrandomgallery]

A personal re-design of Sothis.

I wanted to design a new look for her inspired by the glitz and glamour of Manhattan's Upper East Side, so basically think the type of fashions that would be associated with shows like Gossip Girl. Ironically, I don't plan on ever watching that show, but I've heard that the character fashions are always on point.

DO NOT REPOST!!!

Also on deviantART

[asperants]

It stung when her sister left for the officer's academy on a foreign continent. Ivy holds no ill will towards Hortensia for leaving to further her education. Rather, pride swells in her chest when she thinks of how Hortensia wanted to further her education. She had managed to catch up with her at the Elusian academy. It makes sense she'd want to challenge herself elsewhere.

"Hortensia," she says her sisters name with a warmth not often found the Snow Queen's vicinity. "I'm glad to see you're doing well." Her sister easily thrived in social environments. Like mother like daughter.

"How are you faring? You... never replied to my previous letter, so I'm... well, I want to be sure you're doing well. And that you're happy."

When Hortensia had declared she would be studying abroad at Garreg Mach she had done so with a flourish; she remembers strongly how odd it had felt at first with just her and Ivy in the throne room. The ghost of their father hung over both of them even after they had said their goodbyes, it seemed, and Hortensia was sure that she could only be adding to Ivy's sad memories.

She hadn't wanted that at all, had wanted to support her sister.

"So, hey, did you hear about that foreign academy for young nobles? They don't just do boring seminars on international relations either there's on sight magic training and everything! I was thinking I could go check it out and tell everyone how great Elusia is. Whaddya think?"

She'd known Ivy's answer even before it came, and for once Hortensia had almost wanted to be denied something. If the Queen-to-be of Elusia had said, no, I'm lonely stay, then she would have.

Well. It was probably best she just accepted it. Ivy was the older sister for a reason after all.

And Hortensia couldn't look anything but perfect for said sister! The first few moons she'd sent back letters about the classes she'd enrolled in, and her hopes for them; how the people here were already interested in Elyos and Hortensia was sure they'd get a bunch of visitors hyping up the picturesque snowy peaks of their kingdom Hortensia had gushed about.

But then... classes got harder, and the students more competitive. The Battle of the Eagle and the Lion started, and even after a long evening in the sauna when Hortensia put her pen to paper she found that even if she had barely won against Stahl there was nothing illustrious about it.

Hortensia never wanted to lie to Ivy. But there was no way she could tell her she was struggling more than she'd expected! She'd just worry and,

and without Goldmary or Rosado there to give her an extra push the letter she'd meant to send had just sat there as more and more of Hortensia's extracurriculars piled up.

"Ivy, oh wow! It really is you. But, um, you're not wearing an academy uniform... are you here for a trip?"

(Had she missed that new too in her her stack of "to do"s? Surely not...)

"Or did you just come her to see cute lil ol' me? Let me give you a tour of my favorite spots! The sauna and gardens here are just the best - oh, but don't worry I'm on top of all of my classes too. They even have lessons in riding and flying!

...Um, it's a lot of fun. But I'm most happy to see you."

[astridbecks]

Technically the fifth installment in this series, but like… a month late. Hope y’all wanted some 4D-chess-playing Archmage Astrid Beck content? 

Also on AO3.

— — —

Disguise Self (1st-level illusion) Range: Self Duration: 1 hour 

You make yourself—including your clothing, armor, weapons, and other belongings on your person—look different until the spell ends or until you use your action to dismiss it. 

— — —

The headmaster’s office sits at the top of the tallest tower on the grounds of the Soltryce Academy. From the tower entrance to the paneled mahogany door, there are three hundred and twenty eight stone stairs. The sole purpose of this seems to be to inflict a sense of mounting anticipation on anyone summoned to speak with the Archmage of Conscription, from student to professor to fellow archmage. 

Astrid stands on the first landing and contemplates the paperwork she abandoned five minutes ago (low priority), the likelihood that this visit will earn her the Martinet’s censure if word of it reaches him (moderate priority), and the value of a well-timed entrance (high priority). Then she casts Dimension Door, bypassing the next three hundred and seven stairs in favor of appearing directly outside the headmaster’s office. 

She lifts her hand and gives a brisk knock. 

“Enter,” a voice calls from within.

Astrid pushes the door open. The office is much as she remembers it from her days as a student — the books on the shelves arranged differently, perhaps; the curtains slightly sun-faded. The area rug is new, a thickly woven and expensive-looking piece of Marquesian design. The rest, though, hasn’t changed. A desk nearly as wide as Astrid is tall, ornamented with mother-of-pearl. A shimmering illusion of the Soltryce Academy seal on the wall behind the desk. A window on the far wall that looks out across the campus, making Zivan’s usually metaphorical preoccupation with oversight entirely literal. Even the air smells the same: aged parchment, bitter incense, a nearly imperceptible hint of ozone. 

Zivan Margolin sits behind the desk, hands folded and deep blue robes immaculate. His stern expression falters somewhat as he takes in her presence, but he recovers quickly enough to say, “Ah, Archmage Beck. You are… not who I was expecting.”

Astrid raises an eyebrow. “Oh, indeed?” 

“Yes, I have a meeting—” He glances at the clock on the wall. “Very soon, in fact.” 

“In that case, I’ll just wait here until you’re done.” 

She steps inside before he can object. Arcane static ripples across the back of her neck as the ward on the door registers her illusion spell. Zivan half-rises from his seat, faint alarm flickering across his face. He opens his mouth — probably to accuse her of being an imposter disguised as a Cerberus Assembly archmage — and Astrid holds up a hand in insincere apology and drops Disguise Self. 

Her illusory robes fade to reveal what she wears beneath — clothing that she hasn’t had occasion to wear in a few years, but that still fits her like a second skin. Black, combat-ready. She usually makes a point of having the sleeves of her robes tailored to alternately show or hide the maze of tattoos on her arms depending on the message she wants to send that day, but here there is no pretense. The sleeves are rolled up, the black ink displayed in much the same way a bare blade might be. If the Volstrucker had a uniform, this would have been it. 

Zivan’s face goes several shades paler as he sits back down, eyes tracking Astrid as she crosses the room. The thick, expensive carpet renders her steps whisper-silent. 

He clears his throat, managing to regain his composure. “As I said, I do have a meeting.” 

“Don’t worry, Headmaster. I can be patient.” She leans with calculated nonchalance against a bookshelf, pretending to peruse the titles, and settles in to wait. 

It’s not long before there’s another knock at the door — five minutes, maybe less. She’s cut it closer than she’d like. Another few minutes of making Zivan squirm would have been preferable. 

With a far less imperious tone than before, Zivan calls, “Yes, come in.”

The door opens. Caleb steps through, still in his professorial robes with a scarf wrapped loosely around his neck as though he’d decided to stop by the headmaster’s office on his way home. The scarf is a soft lavender-gray silk, not exactly Caleb’s usual style and unlikely to offer much protection against the mid-autumn chill. He gives Zivan a respectful nod, then glances at Astrid, brow furrowing in a subtle question. Astrid, of course, does not respond. She’s better trained than that. 

Caleb huffs once — amusement or irritation, hard to tell — and says, “I hope I’m not interrupting anything, Headmaster.” 

“No, not at all,” Zivan reassures him. “Archmage Beck’s visit was… unscheduled.” He gestures to the high-backed chair in front of his desk. The seat is a few inches shorter than the one he himself sits in, which is an intimidation tactic that likely works very well on children and much less well on former Scourgers. 

Caleb remains standing, folding his hands behind his back. His stance shifts ever so slightly — shoulders squared, chin lifted. 

Zivan raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t insist. “I assume you know why I’ve called you here.” 

“Nein, I have no idea.” 

“Really? I’ve received several complaints from students about the… tone of some of your class discussions, Professor Widogast.” 

Caleb frowns, looking convincingly concerned for a moment. “My students know that if a topic of discussion makes them uncomfortable, they are welcome to take a moment to step away free of judgment and discuss the matter with me later if they wish to. That is something I stress on the very first day of class.” 

“You misunderstand,” Zivan starts to say, then trails off as Astrid draws a small dagger and begins to clean under her nails with the tip. 

Caleb’s gaze briefly flicks to her, and this time she does let the corner of her mouth quirk, acknowledging the truly amateurish tactic. The more embarrassing part — for Zivan, anyway — is that it’s working, if the look on his face is any indication.

“What am I misunderstanding, Headmaster?” Caleb asks mildly. 

Zivan clears his throat, apparently switching tactics. “I will be frank. I do not think that political rhetoric belongs in a lecture about transmutative theory.” 

“Ah,” Caleb says. “But introductory courses should provide a wide base of knowledge to students, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Some of your comments have allegedly strayed towards sentiments that could be considered treasonous,” Zivan says acerbically, then makes the mistake of looking at Astrid again. Astrid, who has shifted to balancing her knife point-first on top of one of the bookshelves and slowly spinning the blade, looks back impassively.

“If you’re referring to my most recent classes,” Caleb says, “the discussion was one of ethics. I do not find that treasonous — do you?”

“Young students have impressionable minds,” Zivan says, smoothly sidestepping the bait. He’s avoiding glancing at Astrid now. “I would hate for them to be set down the wrong path because of a careless word from a popular professor.”

Caleb’s voice drops into quiet intensity. “I assure you, the last thing I want to do is cause harm to any of my students at such a formative point in their lives.” 

Astrid watches the light play off her blade as she rotates it once, twice in the pause that follows. She doesn’t need to look at Caleb’s face to know what sort of raw emotion is burning in his eyes.

In the periphery of her vision, she watches Zivan’s posture tighten. “Consider this a warning, then. I do not wish to have this conversation with you again. Please be… mindful.” 

“I certainly will.” Caleb’s voice is remarkably even given how tightly his hands are knotted together behind his back. 

“You may leave, Professor Widogast.” 

Caleb gives a stiff nod and exits the room. 

Silence settles heavily over the office. Astrid stops spinning her blade but keeps it balanced with a single finger as she looks to Zivan. Zivan, for his part, has not relaxed in the slightest. He’s watching her with a wariness usually reserved for large predators. Attacking a fellow archmage would be an inefficient way of signing her own death sentence, and they both know she should be too sensible to outright threaten such a thing — aloud, at least. But there’s a fracture of uncertainty across Zivan’s patient mask. He knows better than most what the Volstrucker were. He can guess at the sorts of violence she’s capable of. Astrid has worked hard to be taken seriously as an archmage in her own right, instead of as Trent’s best-trained attack dog who happened to fight her way to the top of the pack, but when it is in her interest, she can allow her own mask to slip.

The silence stretches, lingers painfully. Zivan breaks first, of course. “Is there something you need from me, Archmage?” 

“Hm.” Astrid tilts her head, pretending to consider the question. “You know, I don’t believe there is.” She flips her dagger into her palm, tip pointed to the floor, and indulges for just a moment in a fantasy of burying it in his throat. The bloodstains would never come out of his expensive rug. 

Anger flickers briefly across his face. “Then what, exactly, was this a demonstration of?”

“It was more of a courtesy call, truthfully.” 

“I will not stand for—“

“I would never expect you to stand for anything, Headmaster.” She sheathes her dagger in a single abrupt motion. Zivan flinches, then tries to pretend he didn’t.

Old habits die hard. Old fears die harder. Somewhere deep beneath the Headmaster’s placating smile, he is terrified that one of his old mistakes will someday stab him in his sleep. 

Or, indeed, in his office.

Astrid smiles. It’s sharp and nearly feral, and Zivan looks away as she says, “Lovely as always to talk with you.” 

With a gesture and a murmured word, she recasts her illusion. Her robes settle around her once more in an insubstantial swirl of scarlet, like blood into water.

:::

Astrid decides to take the stairs this time and is unsurprised to find Caleb waiting for her three landings down. He’s staring out the window, the late afternoon sunlight through the thick glass casting hazy shadows across his face as he fiddles with the hem of his scarf. 

“That was a very quick meeting,” he says. 

“Mm. It was unscheduled.” 

“Yours may have been. Mine less so — I have been expecting a summons from him for about a week. He always gets antsy during my unit on ethics, and this semester’s class is a bit more… bold.” Caleb turns to give her a penetrating stare. She does not look away until he adds, “When did you get word that he planned to accuse me of sedition?”

About twenty minutes ago, but he doesn’t need to know that. She almost wants to retort that he shouldn’t assume that everything is about him, but in this specific instance that would be too easy to refute. “It wasn’t a full accusation. He was just testing the waters.”

“I suppose your presence made sure that that was as far as it went this time.”

Astrid raises an eyebrow. “I doubt that the headmaster values my opinion of your character that highly.” 

“You know what I mean.”

She does, and she’s not taking the bait. Instead, she says, “‘The only sources of institutionalized magical education within the Empire should not be governed by a single political entity,’ hm?”

It’s a direct quote from one of Caleb’s most recent lectures. He shrugs, unbothered. “It’s the truth.”

Astrid slips into Zemnian to say, “I didn’t say you were wrong.” They’ve skirted around that topic before, themselves — she’d offered him an annex position when he kept questioning her drafted reforms to the Volstrucker program, and he’d refused on the basis of not wanting to mix his professorship with direct employment by an archmage. (Never mind that Zivan is technically his current employer. Caleb insists that it’s different, and — well, she can’t say he’s wrong there, either.) 

“I have nothing to hide from the Headmaster or anyone else on the Assembly,” Caleb replies in the same language — ironic, and also a blatant lie. 

Coolly: “I’d hope not, with the risks you take. In the future, could you possibly schedule your lightly treasonous lectures at less inconvenient times?”

He huffs again, this time unmistakably in amusement. “My apologies for not being more considerate of your schedule, Archmage.” 

“Apology accepted.”

A pause. Caleb’s gaze slips away again, through the window to the courtyard below. “Astrid?” 

“Yes?” 

“Thank you.” His voice is too soft, almost unfairly so. She catches the minute tremble in his hands, the way he stops rubbing the edge of the delicate scarf between his fingers and instead folds them together as though to avoid doing something else with them. With his perfect memory, stepping into that office is probably even more disorienting than it is for her. She’s never asked him how he can stand walking the halls of this school when every classroom, every stairwell is layered with memories. 

Astrid follows his gaze out the window. In the courtyard, students — children — are gathered in pairs or small groups, taking advantage of the autumn sunlight to study outside despite the cold air. 

Young students have impressionable minds. As though Zivan had never written their names on a list and handed it to Ikithon, knowing what fate he was consigning them to. Astrid had been fifteen; Bren and Eadwulf had been fourteen. They were young. They had impressionable minds.

“I won’t accept your gratitude,” she tells Caleb.

He looks at her. “Why not?”

This wasn’t a favor Astrid had paid him. Even absent the constant calculus of being an archmage of the Cerberus Assembly, where playing the part of a barely-leashed attack dog in Zivan’s office has its occasional place, she doesn’t want Caleb in her debt. She is a bit resentful of the fact that he won’t even offer to be in her debt, even if she would refuse it. But she knows why, as he must know why she protected him today. They’ll never fully trust each other again, but they’ve rebuilt something like understanding over the past three years. 

Astrid tries to pretend that looking at him doesn’t still hurt sometimes. Regret is a familiar ghost, one that’s haunted her for decades, but it always finds unexpected ways to sink its teeth in. Today, it’s the way the sun through the window catches the copper in Caleb’s hair, crowning him in soft flame, lending a golden tint to the violet-smoke scarf sitting light as a lover’s touch around his throat. 

“I doubt you’ll be changing anything about your syllabus just to suit my schedule,” she says, which isn’t really an answer to his question. 

She sees the moment Caleb decides to have mercy on her and let the subject go. He reaches out and lays a gentle, tentative hand on her arm, touch passing through the illusory sleeve of her robe to land on bare skin. “Well. Not for the Archmage of Civil Influence, but maybe for an old friend, I could make some allowances.”

His hand is warm where it rests lightly over her tattoos and scars. You don’t need to do that, she thinks, suddenly tired. There’s no need to persuade her, no hurt feelings he can soothe. 

Astrid sighs. “Be more careful, Caleb.”

“Hm. I’ll take that under consideration.”

Another blatant lie, but one she’ll do him the courtesy of not pointing out. She steps back, slipping free from his grasp, and begins to weave the somatic components for a Teleport. 

Caleb gives her a small, soft smile. “Auf Wiedersehen, Astrid.” 

 :::

When Astrid returns to her tower, Eadwulf takes one look at her uniform and barks a laugh. “Who did you need to scare the shit out of today?”  

Astrid considers deflecting before giving in with a lazy shrug.  “Headmaster Margolin.”

She kicks off her shoes, leaving them in the entry hall, and stalks over to where Eadwulf has draped himself across a couch. He puts the book he’d been reading face-down on the end table as she perches on the arm of the couch next to him, propping her chin in one hand and narrowing her eyes at nothing in particular. 

“Sounds fun. What was the occasion?” Eadwulf rests his cheek against her thigh to look up at her. Astrid runs her other hand idly through his bath-damp hair. He smells like cherries and vanilla, and his hand is warm as he brings it up to rest against her calf. 

She hums noncommittally. “Sometimes it’s good to remind him what his vigilance has wrought.” 

The first academic year after she was elevated to archmage, Zivan had handed her the usual list of potential candidates for the Volstrucker program. All of them were first year students — fourteen, fifteen years of age at most. She’d smiled and thanked him, then promptly set the parchment alight. The scorched palm would have been worth the look on his face even without the benefit of the message it sent without her having to say it aloud. 

Not like this. Not any longer. 

“Are you planning on making a habit of reminding him?” Eadwulf asks, leaning into her touch. 

“Only if he makes a habit of eavesdropping on lectures in search of potential treason. It is entirely his choice.” 

A pause, then: “Oh, is that who this is about.”

“I don’t know what you could possibly mean,” she says primly, understanding perfectly well what he means. “I’m just making the jurisdictional lines clear. Investigations of that sort are ultimately a matter of civil influence, even when they involve Soltryce faculty.” 

“Mm. Staking out your territory?”

“Marking my claim like the hound he believes me to be.” Her hand falls still, fingers tangled in the longer hair at the nape of Eadwulf’s neck, where it always starts to curl when he hasn’t cut his hair in a while. For just a moment, she allows herself to think about the days after Trent’s death, when it had seemed so plausible that Eadwulf would spin away from her without their teacher’s inexorable gravity trapping them both in his orbit. Eadwulf had always hated politics, had never wanted an Assembly seat, and she would’ve forgiven him eventually if he’d chosen to flee to another continent rather than return to Rexxentrum with her. 

Astrid could’ve done this alone if she had to. She doesn’t think she’s ever thanked Eadwulf for not making her do that — not in as many words. But they’re both fluent in the same language of unspoken things. The games she’s playing now are more dangerous than a few implied threats against Zivan. Refraining from telling Eadwulf about them in any real depth is both a precaution for herself and a courtesy for him. 

“Anyways,” she says lightly. “If I’ve heard about it as an uninvolved party, clearly he’s mismanaging his faculty. That makes it my business.” 

Eadwulf sounds fond as he says, “I don’t want to know how many eyes and ears you’ve got at that school.” 

“No,” Astrid agrees. “You probably don’t.” 

[indigowallbreaker]

I don't know if you are still accepting these. But I thought about trans Felix about 2 weeks ago, and I have been without rest ever since. I would love to see some writing for it, if you're interested in that. Thanks!

I am ALWAYS taking trans headcanons, let me be clear. idk how many I’ll turn into ficlets like this but it felt GREAT to write! Here’s to trans Felix!

--

One week until Felix was to leave for the Officers Academy, his father sat him down for a talk. Felix knew right away this talk wasn’t going to be a good one. The old man was forcing a smile and had asked to speak in the dining room-- neutral ground. He was trying to set Felix at ease. It wouldn’t work.

“Excited for school to start?” Rodrigue asked. 

Felix shrugged. He was, actually, very much looking forward to going. Garreg Mach would be a collection of students from all around Fódlan. Different weapons, different fighting styles-- he was eager to try his skills. A small part of him was eager to see the place Glenn had spoken of so fondly. 

He said none of this to Rodrigue. Instead Felix sat there, arms crossed, waiting for another inane question. The old man didn’t disappoint; his smile faltered but he still said, “The monastery is much further south, remember? So there’s no need to over pack furs.”

“I remember.” Felix narrowed his eyes. “What do you want?”

The smile faded completely and Rodrigue sat up straighter. “There is something I have been wanting to say. It will not endear me to you, but it must be said. I am your father, so I dislike ordering you to do things, but I will if you do not see sense.”

Felix scowled. “Out with it, then.”

“You need to stop pretending. When you take over Fraldarius territory, you need to do so as yourself. Not as...” Rodrigue waved a hand, “as Felix.” 

“Are you dying or something?”

“Hopefully not for a long time.” Rodrigue sighed. “You will be a Duchess someday. You can’t parade around Garreg Mach pretending to be a man. If you are to build allies and strong bonds with other nobles at school, then--”

“I’m not pretending,” Felix bit out. “My name is Felix, and I’ll inherit the title of Duke once you’re too weak to be halfway useful.”

Rodrigue set his jaw. “When Glenn was alive and set to take my place, I was happy to let you do as you like. But it’s time to get serious. It’s time to think of your future, Finley. And the future of this family.”

The table shook as Felix shot to his feet and slammed his palms on the table. His chair went tumbling backwards. “You promised you would never say that name again.”

“You should get used to it.” Rodrigue’s tone was cold. Probably trying to disappear into the role of Duke Fraldarius to avoid being a father. Again. “One day you will be Duchess Finely Hugo Fraldarius, and you cannot embarrass yourself at school trying to be someone you are not.”

Hearing the name again only made Felix’s hands ball up into fists. He grit his teeth against the old bitterness it conjured. “This is who I am,” he stated, voice close to a growl. “It’s who I am and it’s who I’ll be at school. Nothing you say is going to change my mind.” 

“Fe-- Finley, please see reason.”

“What does it matter if I’m Duke or Duchess anyway? As long as I keep getting stronger, no one should care.”

“Fin--”

“STOP SAYING THAT!” Felix pounded the table with a fist, forcing back tears of frustration. 

At last, Rodrigue stood. He glowered down at Felix as if he were an unruly general. “You will enroll in the Officers Academy as Finely Fraldarius next week, you will wear the same uniform as Ingrid, and you will stop acting selfish. Those are your orders.” The look softened somewhat. “The Kingdom needs stability, Finley. A clear line of succession in one of its oldest families will aid in that. If you do not understand now, I hope you will someday soon.”

There was so much Felix wanted to yell at his father. He wanted to scream and throw something and make the old man see sense. He wanted it to be yesterday when he was just looking through his dagger collection and deciding which ones to bring. More than anything, he wanted Glenn to walk into the room, tell Rodrigue he was being unreasonable, and take Felix outside to train off his anger. Like always. 

Felix gulped and pushed all those thoughts aside. Rodrigue crossed his arms, waiting for Felix to give in. To accept the name Finley again. And from the tone of his ‘orders’, there would be no talking him out of it.

Fine. Felix had always been a man of action over words anyway.

With a final glare, Felix left the dining room. Rodrigue must have taken that for obedience because he didn’t follow. He’d see his mistake soon enough.

Felix packed the remainder of his things violently, tossing boots and wool coats at random. The only thing he placed in carefully was the black iron spur he’d swiped from Glenn’s possessions. Felix stared at it, bit his lip, then closed his bag and hiked it over his shoulder.

Screw waiting a week. Felix was heading to Garreg Mach tonight. He would register under Felix Hugo Fraldarius, he would get the male uniform, and he wouldn’t come home until his father was the one to see reason.

It was time to go. Time to introduce Fódlan to Felix. 

[masterjedilenawrites]

Blueberries and Cowboys: Chapter 2

A choose-your-own-adventure style fic. First, 2 platonic chapters for set-up/build-up. And then, the story will split into 2 paths depending on your romantic pairing preference: You and Thrawn, or You and Eli.

Chapter Masterlist

Chapter 2: The Plan

Pairing: None...yet...

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of bullying

Length: 2k

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

The rest of the week saw the three of you using every bit of free time outside your classes and studies to gather information for Thrawn to build a solid plan.

Eli tailed his pesky classmate Arden everywhere, even skipping a class one day to break into his dorm, trying to learn anything about the guy that could be useful to get him involved in the plot. Thrawn analyzed the simulation software and protocols that would be used to administer the tests, mapping out every possible way Commander Burdick could hijack it. And you were the one spying on the Burdick himself. Since the commander didn't seem too interested in your grades, you were able to shadow him without suspicion, and had been able to slip a bug into his offices to eavesdrop on any potential conversations about his plans for sabotage.

Your classmates and the staff were none the wiser. That was the advantage of being social outcasts. Half of them avoided you all like the plague, and the other half already thought you were weird people doing weird things. So it wasn't long before you'd all gotten enough intel to work with.

It was late in the evening at the end of the week. You found yourself in Thrawn and Eli's shared dorm, which looked identical to your own in the opposite wing, because the Empire couldn't bother with things like individuality or comfort. Eli sat on the edge of his top bunk, his legs swinging casually, and his coat unbuttoned to reveal a wrinkled undershirt you knew he hadn't bothered to wash all week. Thrawn paced about in the middle of the room, his long strides only allowing him about four good steps before he had to turn around. He still had his uniform on, boots and badges and all.

You leaned against the railing of the bed, watching Thrawn as he went back and forth. Sometimes he sat still when he was scheming, with his fingers steepled and his gaze seemingly reaching into some unknown dimension beyond your comprehension. That usually happened when he was running through variables that didn't concern you, at least from his perspective. You and Eli had accepted long ago there would always be parts of his plans he would never share with you. He was kind of a control freak like that.

But tonight, he seemed to be more welcoming of collaboration, hence his steady rhythm of pacing in front of you.

"Only one variable remains, as I see it," he was saying. "We understand how the commander will manipulate the system to cause a redundancy in the simulation, thus rendering the test impossible to finish successfully."

You and Eli shared a glance; the only person who truly understood how that was going to happen was Thrawn. He'd tried explaining numerous times but when it came to codes and tech, the two of you weren't able to fully keep up.

"We also know through your investigating," Thrawn motioned to you with what you thought was an impressed look, causing you to feel a little pride, "that the commander plans to only sabotage my test, believing it will be too suspicious if Eli also fails. He will also manipulate his false code to originate from the computer of his former lover Eva Carroway, who currently works in HR. So if an investigation does ensue, it will be traced to her and not him."

You and Eli chuckled under your breaths. It had been a little amusing when you'd discovered Commander Burdick was using this plan to not only undermine Thrawn, but also get revenge on his ex-girlfriend. But even more hilarious was how awkward Thrawn treated the subject. He had been quite perplexed to learn people could be so vindictive after a break-up. And any time he explained that detail of the plan, like he was doing now, he hesitated over his word choice. You couldn't tell if he only pretended to be confused about romantic relations, or if that was truly an area he found himself lost in.

If Thrawn noticed your snickering, he didn't respond to it, only continued to recap the plan. "We have also determined how we will expose the altered code naturally, so it does not cast suspicion on us... What was the word you used?"

"Backfire," said Eli.

"Yes. It would not due to have anyone suspect that we altered the test ourselves, or to have our concerns disregarded altogether. Thus, arranging for the maintenance crew to get a mild case of food poisoning so their performance checks are postponed to occur right before the tests will take care of that variable. At the least, they will fix the altered code and I will take the test as normal. At the most, they will report it and the commander faces expulsion."

"So..." said Eli through a yawn as he stretched. "What's left to work out, then?"

Now it was time for you and Thrawn to share a look.

"Were you not interested in involving your classmate, Arden Fey?" asked Thrawn in his soft, contemplative voice.

Eli shrugged. "Yeah. But Burdick's already got his scapegoat, his ex. So it'll be easier to keep him out of it. Whatever."

You could tell he was trying to be nonchalant. But just this morning, he had spent the entire walk between classes ranting about some new insults Arden had come up with, and how badly he wanted to show the guy up once and for all. You knew your friend wasn't feeling "whatever" about it.

"It's not a matter of ease or difficulty," Thrawn stated plainly. He had stopped pacing and was standing with hands behind his back, highlighting the broadness of his shoulders and the height of his stance. His presence seemed to fill up the whole room, and not for the first time, you were glad to be his friend and not his enemy.

"Yeah," you added in encouragement. "We just have to get creative. Find a way to make Arden a more appealing scapegoat than Burdick's ex. In fact...."

You trailed off as an idea occurred to you. You darted out of the room, surely leaving your two friends perplexed, but you would only be a second. You sprinted down the corridor toward the lifts, where a bulletin hung against the wall with fliers and pamphlets. One notice was a bit larger than the others, a promotion of an upcoming gala event to celebrate the Academy's anniversary. You ripped it off and went racing back to the boys' dorm room.

Eli had come down from the bunk and held a concerned look, probably prepared to follow you if you hadn't returned so quickly. Thrawn was still standing composed, but there was a curiosity in his eyes that made you smile.

You held up the poster in front of your chest. "What do you think the likelihood is of us playing successful matchmakers this week?"

Thrawn understood your idea almost immediately, looking down on you with a pleased smirk. It made you flush a little, to know the Chiss was impressed. You rarely had a chance to contribute good ideas when his mind worked so much faster than yours.

Eli caught on next, and he started to grin, the happiest you'd seen him in a while. His smile was infectious and you grinned back. Happy looked good on him.

"We know Eva's not shy with younger guys," you explained. "Before Burdick, she was fooling around with some intern in the med bay."

"And Arden's vain enough," added Eli. "If he thinks anyone's interested, he'll go for 'em."

"So we get him to ask her to the gala as his date...." you said.

"Burdick sees the two of them together...." said Eli.

"And realizes he can get back at his lover in another way, by pinning the sabotage on another student...." joined Thrawn.

The three of you stood together, proud and satisfied that yet another plan had finally worked out. It was almost worth the stressful studying and petty bullying and all the other unpleasant things you had to endure at this god-forsaken school, just to have fun moments like this with trusted friends.

"We should attend this gala as well," Thrawn said eventually, holding out a hand for the poster. He inspected it thoughtfully. "It is only a few days before the tests, so I hadn't planned to pay it any mind. But now...."

"Yeah, we should make sure Burdick's as jealous as we want 'im," nodded Eli.

You were secretly pleased. The plan was already a win-win, but now you would be able to go to the event yourself, too. You hadn't mentioned your desire to go to either of them before, figuring they weren't interested and not wanting to sound silly if you suggested it. But you did love dancing, and it was so very rare you got a chance to wear something other than your Imperial uniform.

"It's a dance," you noted, in case they couldn't tell by the details on the poster. "We'll need to go in pairs."

"I suppose it would make the most sense for you and Eli to go together," said Thrawn quietly.

You looked between the two, realizing both of them were flushed slightly. Eli's cheeks were dotted with pink, standing out amongst his dark brown features, while Thrawn had more of a purple tint to his face now, a color you'd never seen there before. You could feel yourself growing warm and uncomfortable as well. It was only a dance... only a way for you to enact a much more important plan... but it was the first time your trio had had to engage in anything other than platonic friendship. The balance of your group seemed to be shifting ever so slightly in this moment, and you had no way of knowing if it was for good or ill.

You cleared your throat, pushing away any feelings that might have been brewing in your chest, and instead calling focus back to the mission at hand.

"Actually, I think I'd better go with Thrawn. Whoever doesn't go with me would have to find their own date, and no offense Thrawn, but I think Eli has the better chance of asking someone else."

You hoped they hadn't noticed how hollow your voice sounded, how hard you were trying to keep yourself emotionless.

Eli was pinker than ever. "Uh, I highly doubt that..."

"You're not completely hated around here, you know," you said quickly. "Definitely not with the girls. You're not bad looking, you can be charming if you try, and you're... you know, human." You glanced at Thrawn and added again quietly, "No offense."

Thrawn shook his head. His color and demeanor had already slipped back into his usual neutral self. "No, I agree. Those are the dynamics of our peers and we must work with it. I will take you to the gala, Eli will find his own date, and all three of us will push Arden and Eva together as well. It's a good plan."

You all nodded in agreement. But there was a knot in your stomach, a nervousness you didn't quite understand. You cared very much for both Thrawn and Eli. They were your best friends, your only friends. As a group, you were bonded by your ostracism, protecting and supporting each other on your journey out of this hell-hole.

And separately, you had something special with each, too. You and Eli came from similar backgrounds, and had the same need to disconnect from your surroundings and just have a bit of fun every once in a while. The two of you had spent many late nights together, either hopping between bars, exploring the city, making each other laugh uncontrollably, or quietly sharing the honest thoughts you both buried far too deeply inside. Some nights you'd done all of the above, and returned to your dorm feeling both exhausted and renewed.

But Eli didn't always appreciate the finer things in life, and that's where you connected with Thrawn. He wasn't necessarily an optimist, but he had this way of noticing the beauty that existed everywhere around you, even in the most simple or mundane of moments. Everything had the potential to be interesting. His calm but strong presence had kept you grounded and sane throughout your studies here so far. Sometimes you would talk, other times you would simply be in the same space. And either way, you felt better about life.

You didn't exactly want your relationship with them to change. But you couldn't help but feel this gala would do just that....

Next Chapter: The Preparation >

Blueberry Path | Thrawn x reader

Cowboy Path | Eli x reader

[goldenkamuyhunting]

Ramblings and crazy theory time about GK chap 275 “Tokyo Love Story”

So we’ve a new chapter and I’ve discovered…

Yeah, the fake Yuusaku theory turned out right and wrong at the same time as we’ve someone posing as Yuusaku… but it’s definitely not how I was expecting things to be.

But whatever, let’s start.

We’re in Kanagawa, in 1901. The scene is placed after the one in chap 35, when Toraji and Sugimoto fight the night of Toraji’s marriage, because Toraji is afraid Sugimoto came back to snatch Umeko away from him.

Since Sugimoto’s father died in 1899 according to the official timeline, this confirms Sugimoto waited 2 years before coming back to his village.

Evidently the two have calmed down because they aren’t fighting anymore and Toraji is asking Sugimoto where will he do now. Sugimoto informs him his father told him to search for a place he can be happy. You might not remember this bit being included in chap 236 because it was a volume addition.

Sugimoto says he wants to go to Tokyo, since up until now he was in places with few people, which makes sense since he feared he was infected with tuberculosis.

In the Q&A section from the Golden Kamuy fan book it was said:

Q8: What did Sugimoto do in the 2 years between leaving the village after burning his house and coming back to Ume’s wedding? Noda: He travelled to places such as Tokyo and Kyoto. [translation here]

But it’s likely Noda means Sugimoto didn’t stay in the big cities, but in the areas around them.

So okay, we move to Tokyo and after getting a glimpse of Sugimoto moving overly excited through the city playing ‘singing in the rain’...

...we see him being involved in a fight with more than 10 candidate officers.

Kikuta is called in to stop the fight. Evidently they forced him to interrupt his meal as he is still holding chopsticks and a bowl of rice.

We learn from the info box that Kikuta, full name Kikuta Mokutarou, was at the time a Sergeant in the 1st division (which tells us in his future he was promoted and transferred in another division, the 7th in fact in 1902 he’s working for Tsurumi during the Koito kidnapping), in charge of instructing and providing guidance to the officer candidate students enrolled at the Imperial Japanese Army Academy.

He’s also keeping his hair short and there’s no facial hair on his face, giving him a much more proper appearance than the one he’ll have later on, although he keeps his uniform unbuttoned, which is less proper.

As Kikuta tells at the rather bruised officer candidate students to stop fighting as it’s disgraceful for them, they protest they can’t let Sugimoto go as he’s dangerous while Sugimoto, completely restrained by their weight, seems to bark and growl like a wild dog. Kikuta offers him his bowl of rice and this gets Sugimoto to calm down as he starts eating the rice.

LOL, Noda couldn’t have made more obvious with this scene that Ogata and Sugimoto fight like cat and dog because THEY ARE A STRAY CAT AND A STRAY DOG.

Kikuta comments that by how it took such a huge number of students to stop him, he expected Sugimoto to be some sort of monster… but now he thinks Sugi can be of some use for him, so he tells the students he’ll take him and tells Sugimoto to follow him as he’ll get him something to eat.

As they eat Sugimoto confesses he got into the fight because the students glared at him, revealing quite a horrible temper. Kikuta points out how his was a stupid reason to start a fight, asking him if he’s a STRAY DOG (ノラ犬 ‘nora inu’). This leads him to nickname Sugimoto “vagrant boy" (ノラ坊 ‘nora bou’), warning him Sugimoto was lucky Kikuta got in between the fight, because otherwise, if the students had managed to take him away, Sugimoto would have been in deep troubles.

As Sugimoto asks why he’s called in such a way, Kikuta explains it’s due to the norabou vegetables that grow in his area. Kikuta then proceeds to explain that there’s an officer candidate in the army named Hanazawa Yuusaku, son of the commander of the 7th division.

Kikuta wants Sugimoto to take his place. So okay, it’s a chapter in which we’ve a fake Yuusaku… only he’s not the one I was expecting.

Kikuta then proceeds to explain how Hanazawa ‘I’m the worst father of the century’ Koujirou, wants his son to become the regimental flag bearer because whoever cares about the high death rate of flag bearer when he can gain more honour through Yuusaku?

Yuusaku’s mom, Hanazawa Hiro, from whom Yuusaku got his nose and, probably, his eyes, doesn’t like the idea of her son being used as cannon fodder for her husband’s glory,

but know better than to say it out loud and also know it would be a crime to murder her husband so she did the next best thing, she plotted against him, secretly contacting a “marriage agency” in Tokyo so as to find a girl desperate enough to get a husband she would be willing to steal Yuusaku’s virginity (you might remember virginity is a fundamental requisite for a flag bearer), Kaneko Kaeko, daughter of an executive in the Mitsubishi Zaibatsu.

If the name Mitsubishi feels familiar to you yet it doesn’t make you think of a car, it’s probably because we already had to deal with someone from the Mitsubishi in the Igogusa/Harumi Chiyo story.

In GK it seems people from Mitsubishi are always desperate to get married... it makes you wonder if Tsurumi had a hand in this mess as well or it’s just a coincidence...

Sugimoto, who’s poor, doesn’t get why a rich girl would be desperate to find a man, so Kikuta explains him her potential partners wouldn’t care about her being rich as they’re rich as well.

Overall Sugimoto ends up on showing again how he’s not very good at placing himself in the shoes of people of upper classes.

Turns out though Hanazawa figured out how his wife his plotting behind his back and tried to plot behind her back as well, asking the help of the commander of the 1st division, whom he trusts, who passed the job to Kikuta (I guess Kikuta might still be loyal to his former commander, which might be he’s okay with plotting against Tsurumi... or was he sent there specifically to do so? We’ll see...).

Anyway Sugimoto, who’s so NOT FAMOUS for sitting around a table and having a honest discussion with people, asks why they didn’t just do that. Really, Sugimoto, if you know talking can solve problems why don’t you try implementing it?

Kikuta replies the things had gotten too far and they’re afraid this could cause an incident that will affect the morale of the division, and, more importantly, could put Hanazawa’s wife patriotism into discussion and this would SURELY reflect bad on Hanazawa who was already willing to sacrifice his son on the altar of his own honour.

To all those who’re reading my meta for the first time, in case you’re wondering no, I don’t like Hanazawa. Not one single bit. Sorry for being biased against him.

Anyway Sugimoto gets a haircut and then Kikuta has him wear an uniform with some stars on the collar so as to make him look like a candidate officer.

Sugimoto wonders why Kikuta picked him and isn’t just using another candidate officer. I don’t know if this is relevant but Kikuta seems thoughtfull when Sugimoto says so, his hat slightly shadowing his face.

Hopefully this doesn’t mean this deception is going to put Sugimoto in serious troubles.

He then explains Sugimoto if they were to use someone from the army they would risk bad rumours about the Hanazawa to spread around.

Kikuta then comments that Sugimoto, wearing the full uniform, looks good as there’s a touch of elegance on his face that can help him impersonate Hanazawa Yuusaku, son of a high-class general. I wonder if this is meant to foreshadow Sugimoto is actually more than the commoner we believe him to be or if it’s just another way to inform us Sugimoto is good looking, in case we’ve missed it.

Sugimoto wonders if, by joining the army, he wouldn’t have to worry about food anymore and I facepalm here because really, if this is what pushed him to join, he really made a poor decision, but his expression as he talks makes me wonder if he’s just being so very naive I kind of feel bad for him... did he really have no idea what joining the army could include?

His words cause Kikuta to remember his younger brother, apparently sick, telling him to take the army cap back with him.

I guess Kikuta is kind of adopting all those young men, Ariko, Sugimoto, maybe even Nikaidou and Ogata, because he lost his younger brother.

It’s interesting how Noda shadows his face here...

Anyway Kikuta proceeds to educate Sugimoto, as he’ll have to be capable to eat great food at a fancy restaurant. So, once Kikuta thinks Sugimoto is ready as he mastered enough good table manners, a nervous Sugimoto can take part to the marriage interview… where Kikuta discovers with horror they served western cuisine… with Sugimoto being completely ignorant about western etiquette and trying to eat the shrimps using two forks… and Kikuta, who’s pecking through the window while being seated on a tree, panics, thinking he’ll be discovered immediately.

Well, that’s all for this chapter.

It was undoubtedly a fun flashback chapter that reveals that the fake Yuusaku theory wasn’t completely baseless… but definitely not what I expected it to turn out as I would have never guessed Sugimoto impersonated Yuusaku.

On another note this give me additional fun when I think at this scene.

Sugimoto should have been thinking at the time he played the high ranking officer, here... though I guess the idea is that Kaeko didn’t immediately recognize him because she’s not in the army? Didn’t they gave her a photo of Yuusaku? Sugimoto’s nose and probably his eyebrows too are different.

We’ll see.

I don’t dare to think Kaneko is also a fake sent, this time, by Tsurumi, to steal Yuusaku’s virginity because Tsurumi doesn’t want Yuusaku among them.

This would just be too crazy.

On more serious topics we can assume now that Kikuta saying Sugimoto to forget about Yuusaku in the previous chapter is due to the interview failing and Yuusaku now being forced to become a flag bearer, high mortality rate and all and the whole fake Yuusaku thing having to remain a secret between the two of them so likely Sugimoto doesn’t know anything dark about Yuusaku… beyond the fact his father wanted to use him as cannon fodder to increase his own prestige but whatever, I hardly think someone could have missed it.

I find rather fun how Noda isn’t really fond of drawing Hanazawa, he’s just using the same image of him over and over… and how instead he had no problems showing us Yuusaku’s mom, name and all, but we still have to see Yuusaku’s face. Really, I can’t wait for the big reveal.

Oh well, we can only wait and see.

[jasthelazyelf]

The beginning of a long friendship

Word count: roughly 2100

Jas awakens in the Devildom. Gets introduced to the program. Decides to murder a certain demon with words. That's how you make a good first impression, right?

Jas‘ day started like any other, there was nothing particularly strange or odd about it. After waking up snuggled up to her favourite seal plush Chonk, she got up and headed straight to the kitchen to grab something to eat. Thinking if she should eat something other than her regular breakfast, she opened the fridge and looked inside. Her still tired mind refused the idea, though, so she grabbed the carton of milk from the fridge and cereal from the pantry.

After eating her breakfast, she decided to change into her comfortable daily clothes consisting of sweatpants and a doge tshirt. She loved it, she loved making her brother groan and then laugh when he saw her in it. Not having much to do that day, she decided to grab the book she’s been reading and sit on the couch. However, she found it rather difficult to concentrate on the words, she was feeling rather tired even though she’s been awake only for about an hour now. She marked where she stopped, closed the book and not even putting it on the table, she fell asleep again.

After a short dream she immediately forgot about, she woke up in a completely different room from the one she remembered falling asleep in. She blinked a few times and realized there were several men standing right in front of her, all dressed in black uniforms, one in a red one. The room looked like a court room.

„Where am I…?“ she thought to herself. The man sitting on the seat that would be that of the chief judge opened his mouth.

„Welcome to the Devildom, Jas,“ he was smiling brightly as he spoke and his eyes sparkled with happiness. Once he saw the confused look on her face, he made an apologetic puppy eyes. „… Oh, pardon me. Feeling a bit shocked, are we? Well, that’s understandable. You’ve only just arrived, after all. As a human, it will probably take a little while for you to adjust to things here in the Devildom.“ Devildom? She has never heard of such a place. Not that she was the best at Geography, anyway. But she had a feeling if she ever heard about such a place, she’d remember it. She realized that when she went to sleep on the couch, it was morning. It seemed impossible for it to be that dark outside now, since she never slept that long.

„Is this a dream…?“ she asked the red haired man. A dream sounded like the only logical solution to her at this point.

„Hmmm… what a very human thing to say. Outstanding. I have a feeling you might be just the sort of person we’re looking for.“ A human, huh? Well… it wasn’t actually a lie… but also not a complete truth. Not anymore. But since the difference wasn’t visible on her now, she decided to play along. „I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Diavolo. I am the ruler of all demons, and all here know of me. And someday soon, I will be crowned a king.“

Jas slightly raised one of her eye brows. So, she was in literal hell? Was that it?! Rather than being scared, she now started to wonder who the other people in the room were. Did she hear about them? Maybe she did. She decided to keep her curiosity to herself for now and just rolled with the given situation. Diavolo stood up and showed Jas the view from the nearest window. As he gently guided her with his hand on her back, she realized she was still clutching her book. And that she was still wearing her day clothes. She felt a bit embarrassed being dressed like that here.

„This is the Royal Academy of Diavolo… though we just call it RAD.“ Once he showed her the campus from the window, he turned them both around again. „You’re standing inside the assembly hall, the very heart of RAD. This is where we officers of the student council hold our meetings and conduct our business. I’m the president of said council.“

Jas smiled a little. Of course he would be the president. She kept that one thought to herself, though. „Why am I here?“ she asked instead.

Another man stood up, this time the one with jet black hair with light ends and piercing red eyes. Jas had to admit, he looked a bit scary. „I will explain everything to you.“

„Jas, this is Lucifer. He is a demon and The Avatar of Pride. He’s also the vice president of the student council and my right-hand man… and not just in title, I assure you. Beyond that, he’s also my most trusted friend.“ Diavolo’s eyes were sparkling again as he was talking about Lucifer.

„Flatery will get you nowhere, Diavolo.“ Lucifer furrowed his eye brows a bit. Then he looked at Jas again and smiled. Jas still found his smile creepy. „Speaking on behalf of the entire student body at this great and storied school of ours… I offer you a most heartfelt welcome, Jas.“

„On behalf of the students?“ Did… did demons really go to school? She found it a bit funny. No one is saved from school.

„Diavolo believes that we demons should start strengthening our relationship with both the human world and the Celestial Realm. As a first step toward this goal, we’ve decided to institute an exchange program. We’ve sent two of our students to the human world and two to the Celestial Realm. And we’re welcoming four students to our school: two from your world and two from the Celestial Realm. So, I take it you probably put two and two together at this point, right?“ he stopped for a few seconds to give time for the new info to set in. It was quite a lot for such a short period of time. „You’ve been chosen from among the people of the human world to participate in this program of ours. You are our newest exchange student. Your period of stay is one year. You will have to work on the tasks that you will receive from RAD. After one year, you will write a paper about your exchange here in the Devildom.“ Wow, out of seven billion people on Earth, these demons picked a human… who isn’t actually a full human. It’s not like it was Jas's problem, though, she was willing to pretend. She wasn’t so happy about the final paper though.

„Write a paper?“

„I am not telling you to write a doctoral thesis. You can take it easy.“ Well, that was at least SOME good news. „Don’t glare at me like that. It’s not like I will abandon you all by yourself here in the Devildom.“ Well, he better not. „You need someone to look after you, and I think that someone should be my brother Mammon. He’s The Avatar of Greed and… how should I put it…? Oh well, you’ll understand soon enough.“ WHAT WAS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?! Was this Mammon weird? Evil? Would he kill Jas on the spot? Before she could get properly nervous, Lucifer took out something that looked like a phone. „Here, take this device. It’s called a D.D.D. It’s a lot like the cell phones of your world. This will be yours to use as long as you’re here. Now, go ahead and try calling Mammon with it.“

Jas did as she was told. The voice of the man on the other side was… loud, to say the least. But otherwise he sounded… okay? She would judge his personality later when she actually met him.

„Sounds like you had a nice chat,“ Lucifer brought her from her thoughts again.

„He seems reliable,“ she shrugged as she answered him.

He furrowed his brows again. „… You really think so?“

Before he could say anything more, the red haired prince took the word again. „Well, if you were suddenly brought to a strange place and then get told that an unfamiliar face will now také care of you, you’d certainly feel anxious. However, Mammon isn’t the only one to help you out. Now then… we still need to introduce our new friend to your brothers, Lucifer. And, it’s probably better that you do that instead of me, wouldn’t you say?“

Lucifer looked down for a bit, a bit anxious. „Yes… As much as I dread the idea of doing so,you’re right.“

One of the guys who was still sitting looked up. Wow, he looked so adorable. „Oh, come now, really? You should be honored that you get to introduce such a sweet and charming little brother like me!“ and certainly confident. Jas had to giggle at that.

„This one here is Asmodeus. He’s the fifth eldest. He’s The Avatar of Lust.“

„Wh… I can’t believe you just totally ignored what I said! And not only that, you referred to me as THIS ONE. How rude!“ Fiesty man! He looked like fun! The last man in the room lazily raised an eyebrow, pouting a little bit in the process. Jas saw that he had been eyeing her for some time, he especially looked interested in the booked Jas still held in her hands. Was he trying to discover what she was holding of was he judging her taste? She couldn’t tell at that moment. Now he was looking at Asmodeus, though.

„Hmph, at least he didn’t ignore you altogether. How do you think I feel?“

„And this one is Satan, the fourth eldest of us. At first glance, he may seem like a responsible demon with a good head on his shoulders, but looks can be deceiving.

„Aha, so I’m THAT one, am I? Nice to meet you, Jas. I am Satan, The Avatar of Wrath.“ OH. Now it finally fully dawned on her. Yep, so these were the big scary demons everyone who believed in them feared so much? Come on, they looked pretty nice. Then she remembered something. Even though she wasn’t religious, she knew quite a lot of mythological stuff. She knew that Lucifer was one of the fallen angels. She knew what was being said about Lucifer’s look. She inhaled and opened her mouth. Everyone in the room was paying attention to her.

This question.

„Wait… Isn’t Lucifer supposed to be super hot even after the fall?“

This one single question.

Oh boy. It struck everyone like a lightning. Diavolo blinked a few times in sheer surprise. Asmodeus widened his eyes, opened his mouth and was at loss for words. Satan laughed out loud, oh, this he did not think would happen. Oh, he likes this girl. He quickly put himself more or less together and looked at Lucifer. And oh boy was Lucifer not happy. Nope, the nice and friendly face was gone and he looked utterly pissed. Before he knew it, Lucifer turned into his demon form, a coat themed after peacocks, two sets of wings and black horns coming out the top of his head. Jas started to take steps back, startled by the sudden change.

Before Lucifer could actually attack her, Satan stood between the two them and glared at Lucifer. At that point Lucifer realized what he was just about to do and turned back to his human form and promptly left the room. Diavolo recovered fast and went after his friend to see if he’s all right. Once the door fully closed, Satan turned towards Jas. She was shaking a bit, but otherwise looked fine.

„Are you all right? That was a quite impressive move you pulled there. Good job,“ he laughed as he was making sure the human was truly unharmed.

Jas recovered shortly after and looked at Satan. She was still shocked, but managed to answer Satan. „I thought you were The Avatar of Wrath, not him?“ Satan laughed again.

„Oh gosh, what foolish bravery! To go into enemy territory like that and say such things! You were lucky Satan reacted so quickly, or you would have been a goner by now!“ Asmo chimed in. He got up from his seat, came closer to the two of them and moved his arms up to offer a hug. Jas approved and hugged the lean handsome demon and finally stopped shaking. „Now, now, it’s okay, but don’t ever do that again, okay?“

Jas let go of him and nodded. Satan pat her gently on her hair. „Enough about that butthurt prick, what do you have there?“ he asked excitedly. So he hasn’t been able to identify the book after all. She showed him the book. It was The Sword of Shannara. Oh, he has heard about this saga, but never actually got around to read them. He heard that the books were pretty good, though. Looks like this exchange won’t be so bad after all.

Satan smiled. He knew this was the beginning of a long and beautiful friendship between him and this human. He couldn’t wait what they’d be up to in the near future.

A/N: Apologies to the Lucifer stams. :'D that really was my first reaction to him over a year and a half ago when I started playing. He's still not hot hot me :'D

[tcm]

Island in the Sun: ‘One Drop’ in the Ocean By Theresa Brown

Let’s face it – America was not ready for Dorothy Dandridge.

Her beauty is undeniable. And, as Janet Jackson notes in her TCM tribute to Dandridge, Dorothy was a ‘triple threat’ with singing, dancing and acting in her repertoire. She just needed a chance to shine. Daughter of character actress Ruby Dandridge, Dorothy appeared in soundies and small uncredited parts throughout the 1940s. In BRIGHT ROAD (‘53) she plays a schoolteacher offering G-rated maternal love and understanding to her students in a rural school district. She really comes into prominence with Otto Preminger’s 1954 film CARMEN JONES. Sexy, sassy, fiery...dangerous, Dandridge swaggers like a gunslinger and sets the screen ablaze as the tempestuous Carmen. Her BRIGHT ROAD co-star, Harry Belafonte, is the hapless handsome soldier who tragically tangles with her. Dandridge was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actress in a Leading Role for her performance.

I rather enjoyed her next movie coming three years after CARMEN JONES, ISLAND IN THE SUN (’57). It’s sort of a PEYTON PLACE in the Caribbean with different storylines of politics, family secrets, murder and miscegenation weaving and wending their way around coconut trees and sugar cane plantations. May I offer one sticky wicket of a caveat? You’ll probably have to leave your 21st century racial perspective at home when you visit. The movie is 63 years old and does give a nod to all those antiquated racial tropes. My jaw dropped a coupla times.

Let me map out the scorecard for you. A Caribbean country is about to undergo the changeover from colony to independence. Pivotal in that change is union leader Harry Belafonte. Pre-dating Malcolm and Martin and today’s ‘social justice’ warriors, Belafonte’s character is interested in uplifting his people on the island. He has a casual relationship with Dandridge that doesn’t have enough fire to toast a marshmallow. What’s wrong with THAT picture? In the movie, he has history on the island with Joan Fontaine. There’s a tentative attempt to explore where they can go, but class and color are a bumpy road for them to hurdle (perhaps the script’s “convenient” way to keep them apart?). He’s more interested in power than romance. Gee, all that handsomeness gone to waste. I don’t know that Belafonte quite has any chemistry with Fontaine once you see Dandridge on his arm – or am I the only one blinded here? But Belafonte steps up his acting game opposite Academy Award-winner Fontaine.

Also in the cast, we have Stephen Boyd, ripe for the picking as the current governor’s son whose return to the island after months stationed in Egypt—without a woman in sight—is pointedly noted. He’s back on the island until he jets off to London. It’s said of him:

“A male, young, white, unmarried, titled and comparatively rich. Good heavens, what else do you think the girls would talk about.”

Boyd spots virginal-in-white Joan Collins at the Governor’s ball. Yes, you read that right – I said virginal and Joan Collins in the same sentence, and he’s interested. So is she. They start a slow-building romance. They don’t make themselves part of the island’s life. They’re into each other. Don’t worry, a freak-out lays ahead for them. Her brother is played by James Mason. They are heirs to the largest sugar cane plantation on the island and Mason’s a weakling. You know the type: the second son...ever second best...insecure...lots to prove. He has contempt for the islanders; suspects his wife of having an affair with the dashing, accomplished Michael Rennie; and decides to run as a political opponent to the popular Belafonte. Belafonte’s response:

“Wouldn’t it be fair to say the only reason you seek election is to revenge yourself upon the whites whom you now think despise you?”

Mason’s got a lot on his plate. (And it ain’t conch chowder).

When Dandridge first appears in the movie, she and Belafonte make a stunning couple entering the governor’s party. She immediately lets Belafonte know she has a mind of her own. She’s confident, truthful, tries to do herself some good pitching for a job in the governor’s office. She fits right into the tony setting with no apology...and wearing no maid’s uniform. She carries herself with quiet sophistication. She just is. She’s noticed by the governor’s military attaché (John Justin), and he immediately falls head over heels. I like Justin and Dandridge together. He’s not trying to keep their relationship secret. He might have one twinge of jealousy or discomfort, but all in all they’re fine together. You might think this interracial romance would be problematic as well but it’s not, compared to Belafonte and Fontaine. What’s the difference? Food for thought. But I think we all know why.

Justin: “Somewhere someone once said there’s always a point in the beginning of a love affair where a man can draw back. Where he’s still safe.”

Dandridge: “Is that what you want, to be safe?” 

Justin: “I’ve been in love. Funny, I don’t know anything about you.” Dandridge: “What would you like to know?” 

Justin: “All about you. Everything.” 

There is a moment with this couple I really like; it’s provocative in a non-provocative way. (No Spoiler!) Dandridge is lying fully clothed on Justin’s bed, reading his manuscript...with no shoes on. Big deal, right? I think it speaks tremendously to their level of intimacy. She’s at home in his space. When have you ever seen THAT in movies of the 50s...or 40s or 30s for that matter?

I like this Daryl Zanuck-production. It’s a colorful, lush, melodramatic production with racial and sexual tension, sexual restraint and good-looking people. Dorothy Dandridge is very easy to watch on film. Yes, she’s easy on the eyes, but she’s also not chewing the scenery and has a very natural presence on screen. You never see her act. I wish she’d done more. She’s not exotic. She’s just a woman...a human. She had many facets she could tap into to express different characters. I’m so glad TCM, with the guidance of acclaimed author Donald Bogle, spotlighted her career. This gets a wider audience to get to know her. No, America was not ready for Dorothy Dandridge.

But she wasn’t going to spend her time waiting for us.

[pl-panda]

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 13

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 13

--------------

Marinette wasn’t sure what to expect from school after her reveal. Their plan was to make it public that she was ‘dating’ Damian Wayne, but not her identity as the MDC. That plan failed when she panicked and tweeted about it. By now, pretty much everyone knew about it. Especially after Jagged Stone went forward and confirmed it. She loved the rockstar, but he was like a wild six-years-old when left without supervision. It was impossible to reverse it. 

The other problem that was making her very anxious was the new Hawkmoth. Her class was already called the Akuma Class not without reason. Now, they would be probably split into different groups, which could serve to make her suffer more. Not to mention how much Lila would be making her life a nightmare now. 

She dressed in the standard Gotham Academy uniform and waited for Chloé to finally arrive. The blonde’s arrival was foreshadowed by the sound of a loud rant. 

“...they can’t expect me to wear these rags!? The purple will totally clash with my lipstick! And the black and white? What is it, the Seventeenth century?” She was already dressed, but clearly unamused by what she was forced to wear.

“Hi, Chlo.” She greeted her best human friend.

“Mari-bear! How can you stand by this fashion disaster?!” 

“I don’t mind. We must wear it only at school.”

“Ugh! I need to pack spare clothes then!”

“Or you could… you know, stay in the uniform?” The bluenette smiled. “I mean from what Damian told me, it’s pretty common to see groups of students still dressed in their uniforms after school.”

“These rags?!” Chloé shouted, slightly agitated

“I’ll make you an MDC original uniform once I get my hands on specifications. Deal?” Mari giggled at her friend’s antics. She was supposed to be the one criticizing fashion here. 

“Fine. But it’s ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous! After classes, you and I are going shopping for some better make-up for me and actual make-up for you.”

“Sure! We can also visit the Botanic Gardens again. Just the two of us?” The girl suggested. 

“Perfect. Won’t Lover-boy have a problem?”

“Nah. Damian won’t mind. We’re not bound by the hip, you know?”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Chloé smiled.

“You…!” Marinette giggled. “I heard you’ve been spending whole days in the gym with my cousin. What’s that about? I thought you would be more interested in pestering Tim about detective stuff.”

“I decided to start exercising. Cass is a great trainer for your information,” she huffed, but the smile on her face let Mari know it was just Chloé being Chloé. “Besides, have you seen your mother? She is nearing fifty and looks drop-dead gorgeous. My mother would kill for that body at her age.” 

“Suuuree.” The bluenette giggled. “Let’s go. Alfred will drop us at school.”

In the entrance hall, they were met by Damian, who wore his own uniform. Sabine, Tom, and Bruce were there to see them out. After the standard round of goodbyes that awaited children when they were supposed to start a new school (Sabine filling the mother role for Chloé), Bruce looked critically at Damian.

“You know that you can only bring the sword on Tuesdays and Thursdays when you actually have practice?” 

“Tt. I’ll need it today.”

“Damian…” He glared at the boy, only to be met by an equally fierce gaze. 

“Fine. But I’m keeping the dusters.” He bargained. “That’s not negotiable.” 

“You know the rules.”

“Tt. With a madman after my wife, I reserve my right to having means of self-defense.” 

“Fine. But only if Akuma shows up and the two of you can’t transform. I hope I don’t need to remind you that Gotham is not Paris? People are much more observant here.” He warned them. 

“Don’t worry Mr. Wayne.” Chloé dismissed him. “I’ll make sure those two are behaving.”

“I already feel better.” He deadpanned. 

“Hush! They are smart kids and can deal with their problems. Right, sweetie?” 

“I… I hope?” Marinette was not exactly convinced but tried to smile. 

“You’ll do great.” Her father reassured her.

“Okay. Let’s go.” She put on her sunglasses. The thin black frame surrounded the twin large tinted glasses that hid a large part of her face. Nobody would know it was Kaalki in disguise. She would need the glasses to not be bothered by the press. At least she hoped they would help.

------------

They arrived with half an hour safety cushion, which made them one of the first on-site. Damian led them to the Principal’s office first to get their schedules. Mr. Hammer was already waiting for them. He wore formal clothes with a green vest over a white shirt, yellow-brown trousers, and to finish it he had a dark-green cape with a white collar made of fur. 

“Ah. Mr. Wayne with his girlfriend,” He spoke the word with utter loathing, which was pretty strange. Marinette never met him before. “I seem to remember to have expelled you last semester”

“Tt. You also expelled me the previous one. Four times. And the semester before. Two times.” He didn’t bother to hide the grin. “Except the paperwork never left your office.” He pointed at the large stack of papers on one of the shelves, with a golden plaquette reading ‘Damian Wayne’.

“Hm… Indeed.” 

Damian stopped himself from interrupting him to educate him on how to talk with and about Marinette.

“Um… Professor Hammer?” speaking of the angel. “Thank you for accepting my class for the exchange program.”

“Yes. Your school was kind enough to send the records of all the students. Yours including.”

“Great. Is there anything…” 

“I didn’t finish.” He snapped at her. “You have a very interesting file, Miss Dupain-Cheng.” He dropped a rather thick folder on his desk. “Class president for three years, engaging in various charities, supporting drama club, brilliant gymnast and martial artist.... thief, bully, conflict child.” He added in an angry tone. “I don’t know about France, but here we often call such girls H.B.I.C., which is an acronym for…”

“Tt. I would appreciate it if you stopped trying to refer to my Angel as such. She is the victim of theft, bullying, and ostracization by her class. If you read the files, you know that each person in that class holds significant sway, and the headmaster of that school is easily swayed. I’ve spent a semester at Françoise Dupont and that establishment is in simple words… lacking.” Damian almost spat the last word. He wanted to tell the headmaster more, but Hammer was ignoring him. 

“In Gotham Academy, we pride ourselves as a prestigious institute that helps students develop their full potential. I don’t care how it worked in your previous school, but I expect you to behave. If you start conflicts with the students, I will be forced to expel you, as per the exchange program regulations that your parents signed. And this time, the papers will leave my office.” He glared at Damian, who in response grinned. “The school is surrounded by a high wall and a river, so you don’t have to worry about paparazzi. If such is caught on the premise, he will be dealt with harshly.”

“What about students taking photos?”

“I’m sure you can deal with them.” It was Hammer’s turn to grin.

“But… But…! That’s unfair! And enabling!” 

“Life is not fair. If it was, I would be living in a castle somewhere in the stormy peaks of Scotland. Instead, I’m here.” He handed both of them their schedules and ushered them out. Chloé was waiting outside.

“So? How did it go?”

“He doesn’t particularly seem to like me. It might’ve been because I’m dating a boy he expelled six times last year.” She glared at his husband. 

“Tt. He just dislikes me because in the first year I accidentally detonated the head of his statue. And then the next year I detonated the replacement.” He shrugged. 

“How do you even accidentally detonate the statue’s head?” Chloé asked. 

“Chemistry homework?” Damian suggested

“Archery practice?” Marinette supplied.

“Science class gone wrong?” He continued

“Secret weapon cache activating by itself?” She added. 

“All of the above.” Damian finished. 

“Okay. Honey, are you sure you want him? We can still return him to the store and find one that is less rabid?” The blonde joked. 

“Tt. Over my dead body.” He growled and grasped Marinette’s hand.

“Calm down, Damiboo,” she grinned at the name, “nobody will be separating you two. But for now, we need to go to the chapel for the welcome party.”

“Tt. Call me that again and I’ll…” He started, but then Marinette’s glare shut him up. 

The girls walked away and Damian almost rethought his stance when the blonde dared to whisper “Whipped” when she was passing him. Marinette didn’t notice, already too focused on describing the meeting with the headmaster.

-----

“...furthermore, the North Hall remains off-limit to all students. You will have your rooms assigned before the lunch break.” Hammerhead finally finished his long and boring speech. The girls were lucky enough to have a peaceful if uninteresting welcome ceremony. Sabine sat next to them, which served as a very strong deterrent from any idiots trying something stupid, like taunting her or bullying. Caline was sweating each time she looked at the other chaperone. Sabine didn’t bother with niceties and could (and would) totally destroy her at moment’s notice.

“Hi. I’m Erica Layton. I’m the school president and it’s my pleasure to welcome you to our great school!” A cheerful blonde walked onto the stage. 

She wore a standard GA uniform, but Marinette recognized it as tailor-made, with high-quality materials. Marinette immediately took to dislike her. She had an aura similar to Lila. Falsehood and malevolence. Her smile was precarious and she swept the students with her gaze. She zeroed on Marinette for a second too long and the bluenette could feel the headache coming. She tried to remember what Damian told her about the school president, but the position was supposed to be held by a girl named Boyle. 

“I hope you’ll fondly remember your time at our school. There are many clubs that you can join. If there is one that you wish to start, you’ll need a group of at least five students and signed permission from one of the teachers. You can find more information on our website. Each of you will be assigned a dorm according to the survey you filled…”

“Excuse me!” Kim, who just received a whisper from Lila, stood up. “From what we were told, we were supposed to stay with host families. What gives?”

“Oh! I’m sorry nobody informed you before. Sadly, we didn’t get enough volunteers, so the plans had to change.”

“But… but… Marinette is staying with the Waynes!” Alya protested before sending the girl in question a hateful gaze. Sabine glared back and the bespectacled girl shivered and quickly turned back to the stage. 

The woman stood up and addressed the class herself. “Marinette is staying with me and I’m staying with my niece and her guardian. I hope that will clear any and all confusion.” Her glare told them that the conversation was over. 

“Yes…” Erica awkwardly started again. “Let’s continue.”

Marinette made sure to note everything the school president spoke about. She was certain her class had more important gossip to focus on and later would have no idea about anything. She would just have Chloé send them the picture later. 

After the event was over, Marinette and Chloé stayed back to photo the notes. Sabine made sure that all other Parisians left them alone, urging them to run to classes. The two left maybe two minutes later, walking calmly to their new classes. The girls would have all the same classes and there was hope that none of the other students from Françoise Dupont would pick the same. 

When walking through the corridor, Chloé finally brought up Alya’s reaction to her mother. The two laughed at how scared she was of Sabine. 

Out of the blue, a hand pulled Marinette to the side and the doors closed behind them in complete silence. She managed to give a weak squeak before that, but her best friend didn’t notice. It would be a moment before Chloé realized her best friend disappeared. By then, the doors had been already locked and she would not differentiate them from other locked doors in the corridor. 

“So… You’re supposed to be the famed girlfriend of Damian Wayne?” Marinette heard once her head finally stopped spinning. She was sitting on a chair with ropes tying her down. Five girls stood there, surrounding her like vultures. 

“Huh? Yeah. Damian and I…” 

“I didn’t give you permission to speak.” The middle one, blonde stopped her. Marinette recognized her. It was Erica!

“Yeah! You think you can just swoop here and try to steal Erica’s man?” One of the companions asked indignantly. 

“Damian was not dating anyone when he came to Paris.” The french girl confidently defended her right. 

“Of course he wasn’t. He is the Ice Prince of Gotham Academy.” Erica dismissed her. “But I had the first claim to him.”

“I don’t exactly follow…” Marinette, for all her shrewd tactical mind and lessons from Damian, was still mostly clueless of how rich, bratty teenagers worked. Chloé was supposed to be a unique case, not a rule. 

“Sorry. We started on the wrong foot.” The lead blonde changed her strategy. “Erica Layton.” She extended her hand. Marinette shrugged, took a deep breath, and tightened her muscles. The rope they used to tie her snapped and she stood up to take her hand. Other girls stared at her with a weird expression. 

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” Her handshake might’ve been a bit too strong, she did it on purpose. 

“Listen, Dupain-Cheng. There is a social hierarchy in this school. I just so happened to be on top. We can be friends and peacefully resolve our differences...”

“I’m sure we can be at least neutral to…”

“I didn’t finish.” Erica seethed. “Of course, friends don’t steal other friends’ men. So, if you’ll break up with Damian, I can get you to the top of the food chain. You will be safe from that Lila girl and untouchable by anyone. It would be a shame if something happened to your online store after all. Or if your social media suddenly ended under attack by bad reviews.”

Marinette stopped smiling halfway through that speech. By the end, she was openly scowling. She broke the handshake and glared at the blonde on the opposite side. Her mother taught her the glare. It was the ‘you’re in over your head’ glare. 

Only one of the girls had the decency to shiver. Others seemed too stupid and too convinced of their own superiority to take Marinette seriously. 

“Let’s make it clear.” The girl started with a very cold voice. “You want me to break up with Damian, just so you can try, and fail, to get him for yourself? And if I don’t comply, you threaten my online shop and my social media? All for protection from Rossi and her lapdogs?” She allowed herself a laugh. “That’s a good one.”

“You little bitch!” Erica shouted. “Do you have any idea who I am? I am at the top of the food chain here. I rule this school. I’m the Gotham Academy’s golden princess!”

“And I’m above the food chain.” She quoted Damian. It took all her willpower, acting skills, courage, and boiled-down anger to continue. “You might be the princess, but I’m the queen here. And you have nothing that you can take from me.”

“Everyone has some dirty secrets. When I’m done with you, you’ll be too afraid to even show up at school!” Erica shouted. Marinette’s cool gaze swept over the room. 

The bluenette didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, she walked over to the locked doors and grabbed the doorknob. At first, it was locked and didn’t want to budge, but with a stronger twist the old mechanism gave over, and the doors opened. 

Outside, Chloé was already on the phone with someone. 

“...Nevermind. I found her.” She hung up and turned to her best friend. “Maribear! Where have you been?”

“I just met the Rossi of this school. She thought she could offer me friendship in exchange for Damian. Like that would ever work.” She gave a cold giggle. When they turned the corner Chloé found the nearest bathroom and dragged Marinette there. Once they were safe from any prying eyes, shel broke into sobs in the blonde’s arms.

----------------

Masterlist // Next

[oh-for-fic-sake]

The Mount Teaser

Warnings: Swearing, Typos

A/N: so this is the first little teaser for a small probably two part for the Cavillry School Writing Challenge. My teacher is August Walker as Truant officer. i hope you all enjoy. XXX

Please ignore any typo’s this is unbeta’d.  

You frowned at all the girls around you. All tittering and giggleing like children. Most younger than you. Stupid children. But each a terror in her own right other wise she wouldnt be here. You hated this place already, the garish pink and peach cheque short skirt and white blouse with a bow around the neck, even in year thriteen-sixth form you were required to be in uniform. Ugh. Mount Ephrame academy was a a strange institution. A huge 100 acre plot in the countryside huge caslte like building no not like hogwarts...Think Balmoral or somthing like that. Some gothic Victorian structure with almost everything you could think of dotted around the grounds stables, pool, walled garden, cloisters a fucking orangey even a small bloody lake! It was insane here once stepping out of the car you'd gone cold. Houston we have a problem! A big fucking problem! It was remote and a whole different world you felt it in the air as you'd entered the building lile you were cut off from the world. But if the ten foot grey stone wall that encompasses the grounds was anything to go by. You were. On the one hand it was an all girls boarding school. On the other? A prison. Its where the delinquents were sent. You go to a young offenders unit or if your bad enough or 'salvagable' your sent here if theres any space. It was unnerving. It pitches itself as an 'institution of learning, growth and reform' you can find yourself here from the age of eleven to twenty one the curriculum covers from your year seven SATS through gsce and higher education even some degrees!  Once you are here you are trapt untill you get the go ahead from principal Cavill untill you prove your 'good and well mannered and will contributeto society'. Your trapped despite your age, your classed as a ward of the 'school' untill he says you can leave. You thought it was illegal but no in actual fact it was like prison. Catch you teach and mold you untill you can become a functioning member of society. The school itself had a reputation of being effective but no one knows how or why. No one questions it, if its not broke dont fix it. Aslong as the students excel and come out as pristine young ladies no one cares. You looked around at the long line of portraits hanging on the walls. A gallery of the staff. Nintey percent male. One hundred percent of the gorgeous, even a few abnormal looking ones like a certain Mr...Rivia??. Eyes are not naturally that bright even for honey brown. Contacts. And he must dye his hair. You scoffed at his portrait. He tries to hard. Probably trying to cater to the younger teens newfound 'werewolf' infatuation thats popped up. Just a few years ago when you were their age 'vampires' were all the rage...As long as the sparkled. You paced the hall small heels clicking on the stone floor as you went. You'd done your research you'd been here just over two weeks and you hadnt been idle. Finding out as much as you could and yet nothing at all. The girls didnt talk much about what goeson here one did slip saying 'the mount' as they called the school was traditional in values and the way it handled things. The girl was quickly shushed by the others who turned a suspicious red colour. Other then that not much was said and you were avoided which was fine by you. You wasn't staying. You traced the picture frames slowly one by one the stunning thick men staring back at you from behind the glass, most blue eyed some a bright azure like the astrology teacher a Mr Kent crystal clear blues looking at you from behind thick framed nerd glasses. Others darker. Like a Mr Walker. Ah yes your new foe apparently. You stopped and stared at him, he looked tough but... looks can be deciving, just looke at that Rivia one for instance. No you didnt think the stoic Mr walker dyed his har or wear contact's, but you did think he was trying to seem more intimidating thennhe wpreally was. He was the Truant officer, normally in schools the truant officer is the only member of taff who can really touch you. But here things were. Different. You'd learned from the others that what happens in the mount, stays in the mount. Walker was the one all the students feared most he had a reputation for being the toughest and meanest of all the staff. It was said he was CIA and trained to kill-had killed. And that he hunts down pupils how skip class stalking them like prey before dragging them into his office and giving them hell before taking them to headmaster Cavill for a second dose. Dose of what you didnt know but apparently it was bad. Painful even. You doubted that very much. You doubted many things about this place, the reputation, the legality, the curriculum, the teachers! But most of all you doubted they would contain you. You doubted they'd manage to keep you here at this correctional institution. You'd got to your final compulsory year at school and been thrust into this place dragged kicking and screaming into its halls of residence and set to stay untill 'further notice' you were just about to turn eighteen! Just about to leave behinde the 'holier then thou teachers' and do what you wanted and???  No. The government decided you used up our chances. A few warnings from police and being expelled from a few schools were fine but apparently drinking underage and caught with class A drugs was a step to far. The courts called you a liability and shipped you off here to continue education in a 'safe structured environment' your parents were only to happy to agree, why wouldn't they be? You'd get a free education, free room and board and collage courses a free degree to if you were not 'reformed' withing the next yer or so. All they had to do was sign their rights to the school for the duration of your stay. And indoing so condemned you to stay here until your new Headmaster deemed you could leave and not a second before! But what he didnt know, what everyone around you failed to realise is that your not like the rest. your not a simpering little girl who'd be 'put in you place' by a few pretty men spouting sweet praise and stern glares. you were getting out! you just had to put a bit of work in. "Miss y/l/n/? are you okay?" you snapped your gaze away from the photo snapping out of your thougts seeing Mr Cavill the headmaster. Your jailor, he frowned as he gained on you coming to a slow stop before you chest heaving with a sigh one brow quirked waiting for an answer. "yes I'm fine" you spoke stiffly, it was no secret you didnt want to be here, you hadnt yet fallen under what ever fearful lusty haze that seemed to hang over the other students yet. he huffed shifting on his feet tucking the folders under his arm tightly tipping his head forward  eyeing you over his glasses with an almost scolding look the made you jolt. "Well you wont be if you hang around here much longer. Your skipping class young lady, and right infront of me to. Didnt you hear the bell?" he asked slowy motioning to the school bell in the corner of the hall but you kept your mouth shut chooseing not to look at him. "Right well come on off to class with you, I'll let this one pass but you'll not get another get out of jail free card. come on get out your planner i'll walk you to class we can say you got lost" he added waving his hand at you making you scowl and pull out the planner rage boiling inside of you and you looked at the classes. Block B Art with Mr Solo. you huffed as Mr Cavil turned and motioned for you to follow him. "Come along before Walker Catches you, he does not put up with this type of thing accidental or not and take it from me you dont want to get in his bad books he is not known for being merciful to the girls" he utterd you growled under your breath casting one last look to the portrait trying to commit it to memory. you didnt give a shit about the truant officer's reputation. you'd be the one to get the better of him. And you'd be the first  to get out! You'd be kicked out. You swear to god your not stayng here. You couldn't!

[fumingspice]

guardians

original work! im bored to death and i have nothing much to do so i guess maybe i could post this and see if people like it or not. mallorie whyte is sarah paulson 🤜👱🏻‍♀️

01 | oakwood academy

october 24th 2022

eli, ma. andromadex

-Madison

THE FINAL WORDS that Madison's stepmother Inez had jokingly yelled out the car window at her before she sped off to work were fairly sticking with her all throughout the day. She had driven at neck-breaking speed as she often had a habit of doing, and then braked so hard that she probably would have given any other passenger in the car a pretty bad whiplash, which Madison was convinced that Inez is immune to it by now, and then rolled down her window and told her; "y’know, if you want to actually make some friends you should really quit acting so bitchy."

Mind you, this was after she had gone on at her for days on end about being herself.

Madison was not opposed to making friends at this school. She wanted to. It's just so difficult when the fantastic, gold-crested reputation of your parents follows you around everywhere you go, and it's even worse when everyone else in your school completely matches that reputation.

To her, there's nothing worse than extra-cred class. She could promise you that. Especially when there are only fifteen more minutes left of the school day until the school bell rang sweet salvation and the students were released from the clutches school for another day. The classroom was decorated in crisp oranges, reds, yellows and browns; and the smothering scent of the ten-plus pumpkin spice candles could probably be smelt from miles away.

Madison's teacher, Ms. DuBois, was from Salem, and she loved nothing more than talking about witches in Salem. DuBois continued to rattle on about the executions that took place during the Salem Witch Trials of 1692- and since they were in Eli and not Salem, Madison could not fathom a single plausible reason as to why her extra-cred class had decided to adopt the Salem Witch Trials.

Oakwood Academy, Madison's new school, had managed to work its way to having one of the top academic records in America by providing an extra area of study for every year that a student attended. It was just one of the classes that would act as a "relaxer" for the workload that the Academy dumped on their students. They allocated five sets of twenty-five students to five different classes. For example; her older brother was allocated into a class that studied some of history's most famous serial criminals. The girl had been hit with a low-key pang of jealousy when she looked at his workbook, but she would never admit that.

Serial killer documentaries from Buzzfeed Unsolved was for her what World War II was to her brother Tiano.

Halfway through the class, Madison decided that Ms DuBois' babbles were nothing more than folklore and legends. There is no possible way that witches could exist, and even if they did; they would have become so sparsely spread out throughout the centuries that bloodlines would have become diluted into non-existence.

Madison had finally just about given up listening, getting ready to switch to her earphones when DuBois began talking about Gwendoline Proctor and Marie-Anne Dufosett. Judging by the amount of borderline useless word scrambles and pop quizzes that she had been bombarded with since August in which their names had popped up in, this would no doubt be just as bleak as the rest of the topic.

"Marie-Anne Dufosett was burned at the stake along with her mother and some other accused women-"

Well, that's just peachy.

"-However, does anybody know who accused Mademoiselle Dufosett of Witchcraft and Conspiring with the Devil?"

A few hands shot up. Oh, great, Madison thought, another room full of Hocus Pocus lovers.

DuBois picked on a boy at the back of the room wearing a black turtleneck underneath his blazer. "Perrone Goguillon," he answered.

Well, at least I know that instead of how to pay taxes.

Ms DuBois clapped her hands together and was about to praise him when Madison poked her head up and blurted out, "who in fresh hell is Peregrine Goujon?" The class burst into a peal of abrupt laughter and her face flashed a red that was possibly close to her burgundy uniform.

DuBois waited patiently for the laughter to die down, giving Madison a well-intended smile. She'd been trying to pry Madison out of her shell for weeks. "Miss Delvaux, I'm so happy that we've finally been graced with your conscious presence," she said. "Perrone Goguillon was one of the last witches to burnt at the stake in France."

What has that got to do with Salem?

There was a pause.

Turtleneck Boy piped up yet again. "Wasn't Perrone Marie-Anne's mother?"

Ms DuBois nodded, what followed probably should have been a moment for shock factor was cut short by Madison's unimpressive comment of; "Sounds like someone gained some serious mommy-issues."

Apart from a few smirks and sniggers, the room stayed in a star awkward silence. It was that moment when Madison had realised that making fun of witches in this classroom was possibly as close as you could get to treason.

The bell finally rang out before Madison could embarrass herself any further. She pulled on her coat and started speed-walking to get out of the school. She found listening to Toxic by Britney Speers always made her faster.

The crisp Massachusetts air stung at her cheeks hard, nipping at them until they were a hard red. The leaves crunched with a prominent sound and the wind blew quite fiercely. She hated fall- she missed the sweet Florida summer and sunshine that she had become so accustomed to. She missed splashing about in their swimming pool with her friends, sitting on her boyfriend's shoulders and having matches of pool basketball. They could get very competitive and Madison was certainly no stranger to having her head pushed underwater for the sake of one of her friends scoring a goal.

Her family had just moved to Massachusetts for her stepmother's work, as they often had moved around for that reason numerous times in the past. Inez worked with companies that were hanging on the edge of bankruptcy. A quick call to her office and she would work on the case as soon as possible. Most cases she could work on from home or online, but every few years a huge opportunity or promotion would come up that would require a move. It was always worth it. Inez was a wizard with a logbook and her incredible finances knowledge; she would advise the company and work with as many people as possible to save the company and boost its profits massively. 

The job also came with a pretty hefty paycheck. Inez had been in Madison's life for as long as the girl could recall memory.

Now that the latest- and hopefully final- addition to the Delvaux family had come, Madison's father spent most of his time at home taking care of baby Thomas. In contrast to Inez, Madison's father came from a long line of "old" money; decades ago, his family was incredibly wealthy Franco-Belgian gold merchants, owning around 40% of the most flourishing gold mines in Belgium and France of which together bestowed them with a huge amount of the finest Belgian gold. Although the number of which lowered to about 750 tons of gold, the family net worth was still well into the billions.

Madison's father broke away from the complete gold-mine owning tradition and earned a job as a professor of physics in certain prestigious colleges across the country, although, there were still plenty of goldmines still to his name.

However, despite their needless fortune, most of the family, along with Inez, managed to stay incorrupt, helping to build many schools, hospitals and jobs in developing countries and donating thousands of millions of dollars to charities, side-lining with the Delvaux-Proveux Foundation to help create a better society with whatever difference they could cause.

Her parents did their best to remain humble- which sometimes proved itself difficult when the next five generations of their family could probably eat from solid gold plates if they chose to.

Needless to say, they spent only what they needed to, didn't exploit their riches, lived in the slightly more luxurious suburban homes. Madison was sent to Oakwood Academy; possibly the most unnecessarily expensive school in the north-east of America along with her adopted older brother Tiano and her adopted little sister Safina; the second youngest, Aleja went to an elementary not far from their home, and baby Thomas just did his best not to poop his pants straight after his diaper had been changed. Madison was convinced he did his best to poop at the worst possible time.

The house they had recently moved into was a beautiful country mansion, overlooking a lake and meadows, the balcony that showed a complete view of the landscape was perhaps Madison's favourite part of the house- apart from her bed of course.

She walked briskly up the pathway leading to the front door, doing her best to not show that she was absolutely freezing to death despite the massive coat. No sooner had she got in the door that she turned the heater on full blast and ran upstairs, diving into her bed.

Inconveniently, she was now too warm.

Madison rolled her eyes and then rolled out of bed with a slight thud, ran downstairs, lowered the heating, then ran back upstairs again- now at a slightly more satisfactory temperature. Her phone began to buzz; an incoming facetime from her friends back in Florida.

Madison jumped up promptly, fixing her hair and trying to make it look like she wasn't considering an attempt at home-made abseiling down the wall beneath her window. She accepted the call and lo and behold the screams and squeals of five of her best friends burst from the phone from on the other side of the country. Meghan, the girl in front and centre, called out Madison's name with an ear-piercing screech.

"Woah, Woah. Calm down, Meghan I'm not hoping to go deaf anytime soon," she muttered, pretending to be annoyed, making a particular fuss of changing the settings on her hearing aid. Meghan playfully rolled her eyes and began talking over the other girls. 

"Oh, shut up, Maddie. How's Massachusetts? Find any cute warlocks that we need to come out and see?" She asked. 

"Meghan, this place is amazing and beautiful- there's so many other things here than witches and warlocks and Harvard's array of nerds," she said, pretending she didn't want to hop on her tricycle and go home. 

To be truthful, it was obvious that Meghan could see straight through the blatant lie. 

"Well, if you say so, babes. Give us a tour of your house! We need to see chez Madison after stalking it for an hour on Google Maps."

Madison gave a hearty chuckle. "Well, if you insist."

Madison began her own rendition of a virtual tour around her house, showing everything from the luxury bathrooms to the heated pool in the basement. The ooooooo's and ahhhhhhhhh's were constant. The house was beautiful- that was undeniable. However, the crowning glory of the house was a massive stain-glass window depicting a woman by the lake.

"The realtors said that the builder of the house had it built in 1876 to memorialize the women persecuted and killed during the witch trials," Madison said, admiring the beautiful display of colours on the floor from the sun shining through the window. 

"That's cheery." 

That's typical Meghan.

"Now, more important than your sexy house; are you or are you not coming to prom?" Meghan asked, expectantly.

Madison shrugged, "I'm not sure, we only just got here, and I don't think my parents would want me flying across the country all by myself."

Meghan let out a slightly satisfied sigh. "So, does that mean Dylan is now free for me to take as my date?"

Madison gritted her teeth hard. Only forever has Meghan been trying to steal Dylan away from her. "Sure, as long as it's just as friends," she answered, fully emphasizing the word "friends".

Meghan laughed emptily. "Well, how else would I be taking him? Trust me, Maddie baby, if I wanted Dylan so bad, I would've gotten him months ago." There was a coy smile and awkward glances shared by the others.

Madison bit her tongue.

"Yeah?" She called out into the empty house. "Coming now, Nez!" She looked back at the screen, told them, "talk later, gals, Nez wants me to help her in the basement," and hung up without waiting for a response, already knowing that Meghan would be commenting on how strange she was acting.

Madison and Meghan had been stuck to each other's waist since pre-school, grew up in close neighborhoods, and had practically been raised together. One time, Madison's family took Meghan to Disney Land, then straight to Universal Studios after. To say they were spoiled rotten in childhood because of the Delvaux family wealth was an understatement. It was only now approaching adult years was Meghan taking full advantage of her best friend's wealth- hinting off about getting her into Yale or Harvard, Madison smiled and nodded when she brought these things up, knowing full well Meghan didn't hold enough brain cells to even use a dishwasher.

The jangle of keys and the opening of the door sounded from downstairs. "The party's home! Maddie honey, you here?" Inez called, audibly struggling with grocery bags. "Coming!" she called back, skipping down the stairs two steps at a time. Inez relieved herself of one of the six bags she had carried from the car. 

"When are you going to learn to walk down the stairs without the risk of breaking your damn neck?" she asked, walking to the kitchen and setting half of the bags on the counter, and doing the same with Maddie's bags. Madison laughed and shook her head, "when we confirm that the birds don't work for the bourgeoisie." 

Inez rolled her eyes and pulled Madison into a hug. "Well, in that case, I may as well buy a neck brace and put the hospital on speed dial."

Madison gave a real laugh this time and pulled away, throwing a damp washcloth at Inez's face. "Megan facetimed me earlier with Linda, Karlie, Houston, Seoul and London.

Inez pulled a face, "yeah, and how did that turn out?" Madison sighed, "she asked me if she could take Dylan to prom."

Her stepmom stopped unpacking and lurched into deep thought. "Why are all your friends named after cities?" Madison was about to continue when she stopped to think about the question. 

"Back to the topic, Nez."

Inez’s eyes widened in shock. "She did not, did she?" Madison nodded carefully, bracing herself for Inez launching into a huge monologue, as she often did when something morally wrong happened. "After everything that we've done for that girl- everything that you've done for that girl, this is how she repays you?" Inez barely stopped to breathe. "She has known about our plans to move here since last Summer! The sneaky little bug kept this behind your back and knew it would be safe to tell you that she was going to steal Dylan from you as soon as you were a safe distance away-"

Madison promptly stopped her, knowing this could and would go on all night. "I'm not as bothered as I should be, Nez. Dylan and I were drifting even before the move. I think this is just my final sign that we just aren't meant to be- God, I always knew nothing serious would become of Dylan and me," she admitted, sipping on a diet coke that Inez had just slid down the countertop. Her stepmother pursed her lips, her incredible dark brown eyes glazing over as they always did when she fell deep into thought, as Madison often admired them doing so when she was trying to find a solution to a particularly difficult business situation, then, within seconds, bounced back out of it once again.

Inez presented an envelope to Madison, addressed to her. "Well, this might bring your spirits up at least," she placed in front of Madison. "I just know it is what it is."

Madison's jaw dropped as she read the letter.

Months ago, while they still lived in Florida, Madison's tutor convinced her to take part in a writing competition. The competition was hosted by one of New York's most prestigious publication companies, namely by their founder; Mallorie Whyte, possibly one of the most sought after and revered journalists in the Western Hemisphere. Madison completely worshipped the woman. Whyte being a first generation French American was the main factor in inspiring Madison to learn the language; not for the benefit of her Senegalese brother.

But he did not need to know that.

Inez spoke again, mainly just to make sure that Madison hadn't become paralyzed from shock. "Is she telling you to buy a damn dictionary or was your spelling fine?” Inez teased. There was no response, but Madison was finished reading, and Inez became heart-scared that she would lick the page.

Madison was dumbfounded for a few more seconds. "I got first place in the contest. She wants me to come to New York and meet her! Bloody hell, she thinks I could help her out with new ideas?" Maddie took another break before screaming the house down. "The Mallorie Whyte wants me because she thinks I could help her-"

She completely froze up in shock, her frightened stepmother running behind her in case she fell backwards. "Three weeks?!" Madison screeched, loud enough to wake up the dead. Inez almost jumped from her skin, laughing when she recovered.

"Three weeks, Maddie! We have plenty of time," she attempted to reason, even though trying to calm Madison down when she was as excited as this was next to impossible.

Madison looked highly offended. "Three weeks? Do you see the state of this house? It needs to be perfect!"

The house was next to gleaming spotless.

Inez rolled her eyes and tugged Madison's belt loop as she was about to run into the hall. In her lifetime, she had met many people that she could consider crazy, but no one came as close to her stepdaughter when she was fangirling over Mallorie Whyte. "Yes, honey that's all well and good," Inez said, attempting to calm down the lunatic in front of her, "but in the meantime, I want you to tidy your bedroom, do your homework and do some studying."

Madison nodded obediently, grabbed her Cola, and ran upstairs, careful not to spill anything on the grey carpet. The fragrance of her apple blossom burning in an incense bowl wafted around the room, and her speaker was set to play music from her playlist when it detected motion in the room. The past few moments of excitement had wiped what had happened before the letter out of her mind.

Dylan.

Meghan had practically taken Dylan away from her- not that she cared, not now anyway. Mallorie freakin' Whyte had sent her a handwritten letter for Christ's sake, she wasn't going to be moping over a boy that her supposed best friend has had her eyes on for months. She had known since before announcing the move that the boy was falling under Meghan's spell, she had seen it; the messages, the winks and the giggles, the almost-too-close kiss under the stairway. She was never ignorant to the fact that there was something between Dylan and Meghan going on behind her back- they were both horrible liars and barely tried to cover it up- she just did her best to pretend nothing had happened.

It's not as if she wasn't the jealous type- she used to be- Dylan had been around most of her friendship group while she was crushing on him. She had just grown an indifference to seeing him flirt with other girls. She had grown used to it.

The notification of her computer sounded, distracting herself from her slightly depressing thoughts. It was an email notification, from Mallorie Whyte herself. Madison almost fainted at the sight of it. Not only had she just received a written letter, but she had also taken time to contact online. Madison caught her breath at the possibility of having a conversation with this woman three weeks before they met, she opened the email, scanning every word;

Madison,

I apologize for reaching out to you in such an informal manner, but I just couldn't wait to get into correspondence with you sooner! Your entry into our contest here at Whyte’s Journalism and Publications utterly rocked my soul at the core, your work blooms amazingly at your young age.

The reason I picked your entry was that after many hours of reading and re-reading hundreds of thousands of entries, I realized that yours spoke to me in a way that no other one did. The beauty of your language and knowledge of how our world and society works touched me in a way no other did- heart-breaking, yet somehow warming, in the same way, to know that there are still people in this world who still have a love for life.

I noted in your information folder that Halloween was your least favourite holiday- a complete juxtaposition of my own opinion. Samhain is the best time of year- and I am excited to spend this glorious time of year with you and your family starting next weekend, as I've just finished sorting arrangements with Ms. Inez.

Best regards and wishes, and excitement to meet you,

Mallorie Whyte.

Inez smiled to herself from downstairs, setting her drink down and running up the stairs having heard the rather obvious sound of Madison's delighted squeal and subsequent crash on the floor.

[demonslayerimagines]

So I wrote a pretty long fanfiction of @mevrouwrozestudios and I’s OCs in the Valentine Arc of the Kimetsu Academy spinoff! It’s very fluffy and romantic! This is was just for fun, but I hope you enjoy!

~ Mod Nezuko 🌸

Nonaka by @mevrouwrozestudios

Eiko by me!

Word count: 4639

Valentine’s Day Arc (Retold)

Part 1: July 1st, 2021. 8:25 am.

Nonaka Homugi was walking up to the gates of Kimetsu Academy, her hand running through her long, blonde hair. The heat made her regret walking to school that day. She lived close to the academy, but it was still a bit much to walk when the temperature was so high! Nonaka walked through the gates with a group of students, looking around for her best friend. As she walked into the school, people seemed to still be talking about Valentine’s Day and White Day. Nonaka sighed, not really enjoying the romantic holidays this year. She didn’t give out any chocolates to any boys on Valentine’s Day. She just wasn’t really interested in anyone in her grade. She had received some chocolates on White Day, but she didn’t want to accept them. None of the guys were really her type or really jumped out at her. Nonaka straightened out her cardigan as she approached her locker, ready to start another day.

Nonaka got the things she needed for her classes and went up the stairs towards her homeroom. Class 2-A, being a 2nd year. Rengoku was standing next to the door, loudly welcoming students that walked by! Some of the female students giggled and blushed as they stopped to talk with him. Nonaka walked past and into the room, heading for her desk. She sat in the back corner near the window, showing a view of the front gate. On the desk in front of hers, was a little gift box with a little note on top of it. Another love letter and gift for Eiko Morioka. Nonaka looked around and noticed a tall boy in the front row that kept looking back at Eiko’s desk. One of many admirers for sure.

As if on cue, Eiko entered the classroom. She was wearing her usual uniform with her red jacket tied around her waist. Her fluffy brown hair with pink tips was bouncing as she walked in. Eiko was also curvy, but took care of her weight. Her cute looks were VERY popular with the boys which made almost every moment with Eiko feel like White Day. She saw Nonaka, smiling wide as she walked over to her desk. “Nonaka! Good morning!” Eiko said melodically. Nonaka smiled back at her friend, “Good morning, Eiko. It looks like you have a little something on your desk” Nonaka’s tone was teasing as Eiko sat down and read the note that was covered in heart stickers. Nonaka knew how this would turn out when she saw Eiko read the note and not become completely flustered. Eiko loved all types of romance and had the idea of meeting her soulmate in her mind. Nonaka knew that she wanted a handsome and noble prince to sweep her off her feet! Whenever Eiko talked about it, she’d blush hard and would almost stop functioning. She wouldn’t accept anything less, it was her dream after all!

Before the guy could get up and walk over to Eiko, Rengoku entered the classroom to begin homeroom attendance and announcements. Nonaka almost felt bad for him, knowing what would happen when he would approach Eiko. She couldn’t bash her friend for knowing what she wanted though, if only Nonaka could figure it out herself.

~~~~~

12:00 pm.

It was finally lunch time! Nonaka stretched her arms, feeling groggy after listening to lecture after lecture. Eiko got her bento box from her beige tote bag and began to eat. Nonaka did the same, grabbing her lunch from her pink bag. As the two of them talked about tests coming up, the tall boy walked back to them. He was looking down, not looking Eiko in the eyes and was soft spoken. The guy was rubbing his hands together in a nervous way. “E-Eiko...Um you read my note right? What do you think?” he asked. Eiko’s face was neutral as she grabbed the gift and note and held them up to him. “I’m afraid I cannot accept. Thank you, but I need to focus on my schooling” The boy shakily grabbed his note and unopened gift and walked back to his desk, defeated. Eiko keeping her reputation of rejecting every boy who confessed to her.

Eiko sighed, but turned back to Nonaka, “Boys…” Nonaka gave her a soft smile, “Hey, maybe you should give some of these guys a chance. I mean they really like you and you could go on some free dates!” Eiko blushed lightly, but shook her head, “You know I need to find my prince charming! A guy who looks me in the eyes and speaks clearly and follows me into the unknown and will protect me!” Eiko blushed hard at the thought and covered her face! “You’re such a hopeless romantic! I wish I had your dreamy attitude” Nonaka answered with a giggle. The two girls giggled and finished up their lunches.

~~~~~

12:45 pm.

A tone played through the speaker system, letting everyone know it was break time. Eiko and Nonaka went separate ways, Nonaka walking down to go to the school garden. She was the president of the gardening club and spent almost all her time there. As she approached the main steps, she heard two guys talking at the bottom of the stairs. A first year and second year, she recognized the second year to be the moral compass officer who was at the front gate almost every morning. Was his name Zenitsu? Oh, and the first year was named Tanjiro! He always wore strange earrings! His sister, Nezuko, had her own spot in the school garden and he’d come by to get her occasionally.

“Are you listening, Zenitsu? Let’s go apologize to Mr. Rengoku” Tanjiro asked in a worried tone. Zenitsu looked very down with a dark aura around him. “SHUT UP! HOW DO YOU THINK I FEEL DOING ALL THIS?!” Zenitsu screamed, wildly, almost making Nonaka drop her bag! She huffed, not having time for this and went for a separate set of stairs at the end of the hall. Still hearing Zenitsu’s screams as she walked away. What a weirdo…

~~~~~

12:50 pm.

Nonaka finally made it to the gardens in the back of the school. Nonaka loved it there, it was probably the calmest part of the school. No one else seemed to be there at the moment, so Nonaka rolled up her sleeves and got to work. Filling her watering can with water from a hose nearby and watering her hydrangeas, irises, and her rose bushes. Nonaka’s rose bushes were her pride and joy! She had pink roses, red roses, and white roses! She hummed softly, as she gave her thirsty plants plenty of water. Nonaka stopped for a moment then heard some loud thumping that seemed to be coming closer.

Nonaka looked up at the entrance gate to the garden and saw something slightly scary. There was a shirtless boy standing there, trying to catch his breath. That alone wouldn’t be too bad, but on top of his head was a boar mask! It looked realistic with tusks and intense blue eyes! Nonaka yelped, “W-Who are you?!” The guy perked up when he saw her and ran up to her, holding her hands in his! “Senpai! Hide me!” the guy screamed! Nonaka stood there, blushing slightly as he squeezed her hands. Nonaka couldn’t say that he didn’t look attractive, at least what she could see of him. This guy seemed to be in his first year. He also had this chaotic energy surrounding him. Nonaka’s heart was beating fast just from being close to him.

Nonaka opened her mouth to ask questions, but the two of them heard loud running getting closer. The guy let go, panicking and jumped into one of the large rose bushes! Nonaka’s eyes widened, mouth agape! H-He jumped into a ROSE BUSH! THAT HAD TO HURT! Quickly looking back at the entrance to the garden, Nonaka saw their math teacher Mr. Shinazugawa. He was out of breath and put his hand up, “H-Have you seen a shirtless kid?...His name is Inosuke! He’s wearing a boar helmet!” Nonaka quickly shook her head, “I-I don’t think so...Or um...I think I saw him going into the practice building?” Mr. Shinazugawa smirked, regaining energy as he ran like a mad man towards the practice building on the other side of the school.

Nonaka took a breath of relief then looked back at the red rose bush that the first year had jumped into. His name was Inosuke, huh? She pushed aside the branches and saw him lying there, some of the thorns had scratched into his arms, but otherwise he seemed fine. “That was quite reckless, Inosuke!” Nonaka scolded as she grabbed his arm and pulled him out of her beautiful red rose bushes! As she did, his boar mask fell off from her forcefulness. Now the two were eye to eye, close as she kept a grip on his arm. His sparkling emerald green eyes looking into her brown ones. He...HE WAS GORGEOUS! Black hair with blue tips that went down to his shoulders. His eyelashes were long and gave him a graceful look. Nonaka was blushing very hard, reminding herself of how Eiko was earlier. She felt as if her heart was thumping out of her chest! Was this her prince charming moment?!

Inosuke tilted his head while looking at her, blushing slightly. Inosuke couldn't stop looking at her with her long blonde hair which shone in the summer sun. He smiled wide at her though and grabbed his helmet, “Thanks! I’ll be sure to visit more often when I get in trouble!” Inosuke nodded at her and was about to leave. Nonaka got out of her own head and once again noticed his scratches from the thorns. “W-Wait! You got hurt!” Nonaka spoke up and ran to her tote bag. Inosuke turned back, curiously. As she dug through the bag, Inosuke got closer and saw a little pig charm on the zipper of the bag. Inosuke blushed hard, this girl was extremely cute…

Nonaka grabbed a box of bandages from her bag, they had little cutesy cartoon characters on them. She had them just in case someone got hurt while touching the roses, so this was the perfect time to use them. She patted the ground next to her and Inosuke sat down. Nonaka unwrapped a few bandages and began to put them on the few scratches that Inosuke gained from his hiding place. Inosuke glanced at her occasionally as she hummed. After a few minutes she was finished bandaging him, his arms covered with brightly colored bandages.

It looked a little silly, but Inosuke smiled wide and flexed his arms. “Thanks! Now I’m super colorful!” Inosuke exclaimed, making Nonaka giggle. “So...What’s your name?” Inosuke asked, glancing to the side. “I’m Nonaka. I’m the president of the garden club” Nonaka said with a shy smile. Inosuke nodded, giving her a large smile as he replaced the boar mask on his face, “Nonaka! I promise to return to repay you for helping me!”

Nonaka had a love struck smile as he ran back toward the school building. The words of his promise in her mind as she plucked one of the red roses. She held it to her chest as she took a deep breath and let out a dreamy sigh. It’s a date~

~~~~~

Part 2: July 3rd, 2021. 4:30 pm.

Eiko had just finished washing all the dishes in her clubroom. It had been a great club activity where everyone learned how to bake homemade cheesecake! Eiko licked her lips thinking about it, but that had ended around 4 pm. Eiko was the president of the home economics club. The activities included learning to cook, sew, and how to perform childcare. It was a small club with only four other girls apart from Eiko, but she didn’t mind. That did mean though that Eiko would end up being the last one in the club room, cleaning up.

Eiko took one last look at the clubroom then shut the door behind her. She looked out the back window at the garden club and noticed that Nonaka was there with a boy! He was shirtless and was that a boar mask? Nonaka looked happy though, which made Eiko smile. She had always been a fan of love, reading fairy tales when she was young and always hearing her parent’s love at first sight story. Eiko knew her idea of love was very girly and a bit childish, but she believed in it with her whole heart! Eiko always felt bad rejecting guys who were so straightforward about their feelings to her, but she never felt that shy sweetness within her when they confessed. This gave her a bad reputation with some boys lying and saying she lead them on or spreading rumors that she was heartless and played with other people’s feelings for fun. Soon guys were trying to get with her just because she was unattainable...Just so they could say that they dated her to brag to their friends...

Eiko sighed, remembering the note she had gotten earlier that week. It read, ‘Dear, Eiko. I know you say no to every guy, but you should say yes to me! I’m nice and I’ll give you tons of gifts! You should lower your expectations a little if you ever wanna be with someone. I love you and we’d be a great couple! Everyone would talk about us. Please let me know how you feel-’ Eiko couldn’t even read the rest of it. The note pissed her off, but she was as nice as she could be when rejecting him. Eiko didn’t want to be miserable because of others and kept her cheery demeanor the best she could.

Eiko shook her head, not wanting to think about it any longer. She reached her locker and put some of her books away. She turned around, closing and locking her locker behind her as she walked out of the school. Her older brother, Kasuhiko, was probably waiting at the train station for her. The kendo club usually ended before hers and her brother was always going ahead of her. Eiko walked towards the main gate, in her own mind. Unknowing, to her that she was being watched from the side by a strange figure.

Eiko passed the gate, but was stopped with a guy walking in front of her. He was the tall guy from her class, he stood in her way and looked down on her with a desperate look. Eiko gave her usual smile, panicking inside, “H-Hey, Daichi, right?” Daichi huffed, “Stop acting coy. You humiliated me in front of the class! What they say about you is true!” Eiko sighed and tried to go around him, but Daichi stepped in her way again. “Let me pass. I’m not interested in being a popular couple or whatever you wanted” Eiko spoke up, trying to find a way out of this situation. Daichi pushed her up against the stone gate though, hand gripping her shoulder hard. “I’ll let you pass for a kiss. You owe me that much” Daichi was more threatening now, Eiko not strong enough to push him back. She was paralyzed with fear, knowing he would gossip about them kissing if she allowed it. The fear welled up inside her, tears in the corner of her eyes.

Suddenly, a flash of yellow was in front of her! Pushing Daichi away and putting distance between Eiko and him. The figure held his hands up and waved them wildly, screaming, “WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?! THAT’S NO WAY TO TREAT A LADY! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” The yelling seemed to scare Daichi and he ran away. Eiko sniffled and stared at her hero. The figure turned around and Eiko suppressed the urge to laugh. Covering her mouth as she looked him up and down. This guy was wearing name brand sneakers, black sweats, a blue shirt with a popped collar and a white track jacket on top. He had blonde hair, but he had a weird cardboard headband on. His face was also obscured by large sunglasses and a medical mask. Eiko looked at his arms and they were covered with fake name brand watches. He was also gripping money in his right hand.

He breathed heavily, probably running over to help her as fast as he could. Before Eiko could speak up, the figure spoke loudly and clearly, “Hello! I hope you’re alright!” He stopped speaking abruptly and stared Eiko in the eyes. She blushed lightly, smiling, “Y-Yes! Thank you, sir” It was still quiet, looking at Eiko. If this was any other situation, she might’ve been creeped out, but he had saved her from a creep! Eiko felt warm inside, a wave of relief washing over her. A sense of calm with him near her. “W-Well I must be heading to the station. My brother is waiting for me” Eiko said as she started walking. To her surprise, the guy began to follow her. Aw, he must be shy! He must be making sure that she gets there safely! Eiko shly covered her cheeks as she blushed more. WHAT A GENTLEMAN!

Zenitsu didn’t know why he had started following her for this long. Maybe he was just relieved that she wasn’t running away screaming? Zenitsu was blushing hard, he didn’t know what was coming over him. That jerk was just doing whatever he wanted and it filled Zenitsu with a strange sense of justice! He had to rush in there and save this beautiful girl! And she was very beautiful...Zenitsu heard of Eiko before. They were in the same grade and he had noticed her before. She was just as pretty up close as she was across the hall, but he heard how she always rejected men and broke hearts for fun, but looking at her closely he thought, ‘How could this cute, gentle face be like that…” Perhaps she was putting an act on, but she was treating him with kindness without even knowing who he really was. Zenitsu wanted to hold her hand and reassure her that she was safe now. Zenitsu felt his heart pounding harder, his lips sealed, unable to even mutter a thing to her. He would overheat if he stayed near her like this any longer!

As Eiko made it to the station, she noticed that he had begun running back to the school! He was fast! Eiko thought about his strange behavior for a moment and her body felt light. The summer breeze brushing her fluffy hair into her face...She had to know who he was…

~~~~~

July 4th, 2021. 8:30 pm.

“AND he ran into the sunset! He wanted to make sure I made it to the station safely and was even too shy to say goodbye!” Eiko said as she was explaining to Nonaka what had happened yesterday evening. “He sounds a little strange, but I’m glad he was there to help you. If I see Daichi in here, I’m giving him a piece of my mind!” Nonaka answered, puffing her cheeks out cutely.

Daichi didn’t show up for class though as Mr. Renguko entered the class to begin announcements. “Class! I have some important news! Please pass this flyer around. A pervert has been showing up in the evening and only goes after girls. Please stick together and be careful” Mr. Rengoku exclaimed as he gave out the orange flyer. Eiko took one and gasped loudly, “Th-This is my prince?!” The flyer showed a picture of the exact man who had saved her last night. No! This had to be a misunderstanding! Eiko decided right there that she would find out who this guy was! Nonaka saw the resolve in her friend’s eyes and tried extremely hard to break out into laughter! The two had to agree that the blonde hair did look familiar though...But who?...

~~~~~

February 14th, 2022. 8:25 am.

Eiko walked up to the gate, in her hands was a heart shaped box! It was full of homemade chocolate for her prince! It had been almost a year and she still had no idea who that guy could’ve been! She tried to stay after school as long as she could! Hoping he would show up again and she could figure out who he was, but no dice. She then tried asking around the school, but everyone thought she was weird for trying to figure out who the ‘pervert’ was. It was a bunch of dead ends, but Eiko knew that today was the day!

Nonaka walked beside her, her own little blue box in hand. She had made her own chocolates for the boy she had been crushing on for almost a whole year! Inosuke! The troublemaker who would always come to her for help. Inosuke even visited the gardening club before going home to see what was growing. Nonaka thought maybe he felt the same way about her too!

The two girls, with determination in their eyes, passed by the school gate. Unknowingly being watched by Zenitsu. His heart fluttered as he watched Eiko, he developed a deep crush for her after that summer day. Zenitsu had heard that Eiko was looking for the ‘pervert’, but didn’t approach her. He knew that she was going to yell at him and think he was such a creep for that day! Just thinking about the rejection was filling him with dread. He knew he had to keep his distance even if he didn’t want to. Not to mention, Eiko could pick any guy she wanted...Zenitsu knew he didn’t have a chance…Another failed Valentine’s Day...

~~~~~

4:00 pm.

Nonaka was ready, she had sent home the club early to go on dates and to be with their boyfriends or girlfriends. This was also because she wanted to make sure that she was alone with Inosuke! She wouldn’t have the courage to tell him otherwise! She was going to be graceful and tell him in a way that he couldn’t say no!

Inosuke ran up to the entrance gate of the school garden. “OI! NONAKA!” Inosuke yelled, startling Nonaka from her thoughts. His shirt all the way unbuttoned as usual, but this time he took his boar mask off in front of her. Inosuke was so used to Nonaka by now that he didn’t feel the need to hide his face. Her cheeks turned as red as a strawberry. Oh lord, she wasn’t ready!

Inosuke walked up to her with a smile, ready to tell her all about the mischief he was in that day. Before he knew it though, Nonaka was holding out her small blue box with a silver ribbon tied in a bow around it. “U-Um, I made this for you!” Nonaka stumbled through her words, feeling a bit foolish. Inosuke tilted his head and opened the box. A heart shaped chocolate was in the box, a red rose made of white chocolate was lovingly made in the middle.

Nonaka held her breath as he picked it up. She watched as Inosuke ate the chocolate quickly with a grin. “S-So?...” Nonaka asked, shyly. Inosuke looked at her questionably, “So what? It was good chocolate!” Nonaka’s eyes widened, “Inosuke...Do you know what today is?” Inosuke looked up, thinking, “It’s a Monday!” Nonaka huffed, of course he wouldn’t know what Valentine’s Day was! “Inosuke, today is Valentine’s Day. It’s a day where you give gifts to people that you love” Inosuke’s eyes widened as if a lightbulb went off in his head! Nonaka found herself being lifted into a hug by Inosuke. He joyfully spinned with her, “YOU LOVE ME, NONAKA!” Nonaka found herself giggling from his happiness.

Inosuke stopped spinning and nuzzled his head close to hers, “I love you too, Nonaka. Oh! I need to give you a gift!” Inosuke quickly plucked a flower from nearby and held it out for her. Nonaka smiled and gave him a peck on the lips. She’d have to teach him about White Day too!

~~~~~

4:15 pm.

Eiko had been around all day, asking ANYONE who the man in the sunglasses was. No luck though. Eiko decided to give up, maybe she was never meant for true love. Walking out the back door of the school, she noticed a blonde guy sitting against the wall near some of the cherry blossom trees that were getting ready to sprout. She saw him looking sad with his knees to his chest. She began to walk closer to where he was and noticed it was Zenitsu! He was in her grade! She always thought he was pretty funny if not a bit loud in the halls. He was also head of the morals comitee! So dedicated that he was always at the front gate! Maybe he knew who she was looking for!

As Eiko moved closer, Zenitsu’s eyes widened, noticing her coming his way! Did Tanjiro tell her that he was the one she was looking for?! Zenitsu felt himself panicking internally at each step she took, getting closer to him! He could still run away! Yeah! Just run away! Zenitsu was paralyzed though as Eiko was right in front of him. “Hi...Why are you sitting alone by yourself?” Eiko asked, softly. Zenitsu still wanted to run, but his mouth opened and seemed to be on autodrive as he spoke. “I um...I just didn’t receive chocolates from anyone, again. Kinda sad that I decided to mope about it, huh?” Zenitsu said with a small, sad smile. Eiko sat down next to him, a bit too closely. Zenitsu glanced to the side, trying not to stare. She smelled sweet though, like sugar and vanilla, making Zenitsu even more flustered. Eiko sighs, “I couldn’t find my pr-...my crush. Maybe he wasn’t even real. Kinda poetic, huh?” Eiko giggled, weakly. Zenitsu chuckled with her, but was surprised when she held her heart shaped box to him.

“Oh, n-no! I can’t! I mean, that was for your crush!” Zenitsu waved his hands in a dismissive way! Eiko just smiled, cutely, melting Zenitsu’s heart. Zenitsu grabbed the box and opened it. It was a heart shaped chocolate with pink ‘Thank You’ written in cursive with white chocolate on top. “You know that guy that people were calling a pervert? Well I met him! He actually helped me and I wanted to thank him, He saved me from-” Without thinking, Zenitsu interrupted her, “From a really rude guy. He was trying to force you to give him a kiss and I rushed in and scared him away. I kinda also got him expelled too. I mean they believed me because I’m in the moral committee and he admitted to doing it so it was an open and shut case-” Zenitsu looked up from the chocolate at Eiko. Her eyes were wide, sparkling and full of life. Zenitsu tensed and his face turning red, “I-I-I’m sorry! I-I-I-I mean! I didn’t! I-I-I-I-” Eiko leaned forward quickly and hugged him tightly, “It’s you! It was always you!”

Eiko, with her new found courage, pulled back and kissed Zenitsu quickly. When she pulled back, Zenitsu was smiling wide and looked dizzy. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me! K-Keep the chocolate, please!” Eiko covered her cheeks, flustered and a bit embarrassed. Zenitsu leaned closer, “Eiko-chan~” He took her hands and moved them away from her face, admiring her closely. “I will always protect you, Eiko-chan! From now on, ok?” Zenitsu said, dreamily. Eiko sighed, lovingly as she leaned in to kiss him again.

[yoon-kooks]

Blood to Spare

Pairing: Prince!Jimin x Knight!Reader

Genre: Angst, Smut, Royal!AU

Summary: When a malicious threat is made against Prince Jimin’s life just hours before Garreg Mach’s annual ball, it is your sworn duty to accompany him as his date and ensure he makes it through the night unscathed. For as the Prince’s personal guard, you must be willing to cut down any blade that takes aim at him, even if it’s your own heart.

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: blood, death, fingering, unprotected sex, it’s honestly super vanilla

A/N: wooooooo 2020 is finally here and so is prince jimin;;;;; this fic is based around fire emblem three houses, but you don’t need to know anything about the game to enjoy the story! but if you do love fire emblem like me, you’ll pick up on some references here and there. also lmk if you guys are interested in a prequel and sequel! ++special shoutouts to @d-noona and @scalbra​ for the love and support💖

-

You examine the bright red trail streaming down the set of ribs in front of you. The boy lies there in pain, but you offer him no sympathy. It’s his own fault, after all.

“Agh!” He tightens his fists as you press the weight of your body down onto the wound. And if the pressure alone is not enough to make the boy beg for mercy, you know what is. Alcohol and ointment seep into the depth of his gash until the burning sensation draws the response you’re looking for. “Is all of the pressing and stinging really necessary, Y/N?” he yelps.

“It wouldn’t be necessary if you had been more careful like I advised, Jimin,” you shake your head, bandaging up the boy’s disinfected ribs. “But we can’t afford to have our beloved professor and future ruler of Fodlan bleed to death after a mock battle with his students. Especially not with the ball tomorrow evening.”

In the land of Fodlan, an annual ball is held during the Ethereal Moon to celebrate both the year’s end and the founding of Garreg Mach Monastery. For this year in particular, it is crucial for Fodlan’s Prince Jimin to be present and act as a bridge that unifies the continent’s three main nations: Adrestia, Faerghus, and Leicester.

And although you despise formal gatherings such as this one, it is your mission as one of the Knights of Seiros and Jimin’s personal guard to ensure that the Prince is well and able enough to fulfill his political affairs for the night.

“Speaking of the ball, I have yet to find myself a date,” Jimin says as he reclothes his upper half. “It seems no one is interested in sharing a dance with me…”

You know that’s a big fat lie. Jimin may not be the only professor at the Officers Academy, but he is certainly the most popular one amongst both students and faculty due to his charm and royal status. Even back when he was a student himself, he always seemed to have everyone wrapped around his finger. Everyone except you. Though you suppose that’s the reason you were appointed to be his personal guard since becoming a Knight of Seiros.

“That’s too bad,” you say. Again, you offer no sympathy or solution to the boy’s misfortune.

“Well since all of the Knights of Seiros have to be at the ball anyway, I wouldn't mind if you were my date, Y/N.” He tilts his head to the side and smiles, as if that’s going to make the offer any more tempting.

“No thanks. My job at the ball is to protect you, not dance with you,” you shake him off. This isn’t the first or last time he’s tried to make a romantic advance on you. The naïve teenage you might’ve been swooned, but ever since devoting your life to protecting Jimin, romantic affairs have become of little significance to you. “And besides, if you’re not in immediate danger, it’s better for us to keep a distance at the ball.”

Jimin’s smile fades because he knows you’re right. It would reflect poorly on Fodlan’s future ruler to be associated on an intimate level with someone who lacks nobility and a crest. With a heavy sigh, there’s nothing the boy can do but concede defeat to your rejection. You, on the other hand, have more to say.

“Rather than worrying about finding a date to dance with, keep in mind your responsibilities as the prince. Tomorrow is an opportunity to build a stronger relationship between-”

“-the three nations,” he interrupts your scolding to end the conversation. “You don’t have to remind me, Y/N.”

It is not often that the Prince speaks with bitterness towards you. You don’t take personal offense from it, though, because you know it comes from a place of built-up stress and frustration. To be born into a position of power has its cons too, and you know better than anyone that this isn’t a path Jimin would’ve chosen for himself.

Still, it’s your duty to make sure the Prince is properly fulfilling all of his duties. And sometimes he needs to learn to set aside his personal feelings, just as you’ve done with yours.

“Very well,” you say, stepping out of his room. “I’ll see you in the morning, Your Highness.”

-

When morning comes, the walk to the Knight’s Hall feels exceptionally long and quiet. Students are rushing to set up last-minute décor and finishing touches before sundown when the ball is set to begin. However, all that chaos and chatter is drowned out by the piercing tension between you and the boy you’re escorting.

It’s clear he’s still mad at you. Probably because you last referred to him, not by name, but by status. Ever since you became his personal guard years ago, he’s always encouraged you to simply call him Jimin. It took a while, but you eventually picked up the habit and noticed the delight on Jimin’s face whenever he heard his name. As far as you know, you’re the only one who drops the formalities with him.

But because you had purposely called him “Your Highness” out of spite, you’ve now reopened the gap between you and him. Like cutting back into an old scar.

You’re thankful when you finally reach the Knight’s Hall and your fellow Knights of Seiros waste no time in filling the void of silence that had followed you into the room.

“Early this morning, a student found this letter posted on the doors to the Entrance Hall,” Seokjin hands you a torn parchment paper to look at.

“We cannot allow the nations of Fodlan to become one under the absolute rule of the Central Church here at Garreg Mach. We urge the Archbishop to consider canceling the annual ball, and with it, the meeting between Adrestia, Faerghus, and Leicester. If not, we will have no choice but to burn the bridge that seeks to unify Fodlan as one. Peace shall never be found in an allegiance that blindly sides where power lies.”

It only takes a second for you to piece together who the target in question is—the bridge that seeks to unify Fodlan, Prince Jimin.

“They want the ball cancelled or they want the Prince’s head,” you grind your teeth.

To an extent, you understand the point of disagreement between political views. The current rule, for example, does not exactly favor the Crestless or have plans of changing that any time soon. Even if Fodlan were to unite as a single nation as it had hundreds of years ago, the divide between nobility and the Crestless would only continue to increase.

That being said, a threat on the Prince’s life is enough for you to set aside your own feelings as a Crestless. If someone is willing to go as far as point their blade in Jimin’s direction, they are already dead in your eyes.

“I’ve already spoken with the Archbishop and she wishes for the ball to proceed as planned. For all we know, this could be an empty threat. I doubt the enemy has the means to break through our defenses,” Namjoon says. “However, we, the Knights of Seiros, will still need to be on high alert to ensure the night runs smoothly.”

“Understood,” you say, glancing at the boy whose life is on the line. “I will not allow anything to happen to the Prince.”

“Actually,” Namjoon continues, “the Archbishop has requested for you to act as Prince Jimin’s date for the night as a precaution to any assassin that may be lurking from within the monastery.”

“Understood,” you say again, but with an awkwardness far worse than the silent void from earlier. The last thing you need is to act all lovey-dovey with the boy you just rejected and are not on good speaking terms with.

Once the other knights have left to stand guard and investigate the origins behind the letter, your mind starts spinning. You don’t want to formally attend the ball, you know nothing about the proper etiquette of nobility, Jimin probably hates your guts, you don’t know how to dance, you have no gown to wear, and Jimin probably hates your—

The boy motions for you to follow him, pulling you out of your daze and into town to grab all the essentials for the Garreg Mach annual ball.

-

Several hours later, you sit in the Prince’s quarters, staring at the long flowy gown you’re supposed to be wearing. As a knight with a commoner upbringing, the occasion to wear such a fancy garment never arose, so you feel a bit perplexed with what to do next. For starters, you don’t even have a clue how to get it on.

“Do you need help?” Jimin raises an eyebrow at you as he straightens up his royal blue uniform, one very well suited for a prince.

“I got it,” you shake your head. Succumbing to the Prince’s assistance would only be a sign of weakness. You’ll find a way to figure it out on your own if it means avoiding Jimin’s gaze as you struggle to get the dress on. “Just turn around for a second and don't watch me from the mirror either.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” he hums, lowkey throwing shade as he turns his back to you. You haven’t yet apologized for calling him that, but he’s definitely making sure you’re aware of it.

You bite your tongue until you’ve stepped into the dress. It still feels a bit loose, but you put it on to the best of your ability. When you give him the okay to turn around again, the first thing he does is crack a smirk.

“What?” You shoot him a dirty look.

He gestures for you to come closer and spins you around. As he reties your dress’ complex ribbons from behind, you feel the gown becoming snugger in the appropriate places. Very slightly, you feel the cold tips of Jimin’s fingers tickle your skin as he ties the last ribbon at the back of your neck. You don’t say anything, but your body reacts accordingly.

“Oh? Someone has goose bumps,” he snickers, spinning you back around to face him. Before you can blame it on his cold hands, he gives you a good look from head to toe. “The dress looks pretty on you, by the way.”

“Thank you, Jimin.” More than his compliment, you’re thankful that he’s at least speaking kindly to you again. “And my apologies for yesterday.”

The chilling tips of his fingers have since wandered up to your cheeks, and the only reason you don’t swat him away is because it’s something he’s done since the two of you were little. He cups your cheeks and gives them a gentle squeeze before jumping back to the conversation as if it were nothing. You’ve never questioned him about it, but given the context of all the times you can recall, you assume it’s his way of showing forgiveness.

“I should not have lashed out at you in the first place. The thought of becoming Fodlan’s ruler is just… a lot for one person to bear,” Jimin finally releases your cheeks and backs away to the edge of his bed. “But that’s why it’s a relief to have you with me at my side tonight.”

“That’s what I’m here for. Not just tonight,” you remind him. “Always.”

“Yeah, but it’s not every night I get to see the cold-blooded Y/N all dolled up and without a swor-” He cuts himself off when he sees you lifting up the skirt of your gown as if you’ve forgotten a (handsome and needy) boy is still in the room with you.

You’re so focused on trying to hide your trusty Hero’s Relic sword, Blutgang, beneath your dress that you do not realize how much of your lower body you’ve exposed. “A knight can never be without their blade.”

“What if it tears the gown open…?” Jimin’s question gives the illusion of concern, though he probably would not be opposed to that scenario.

“It would be embarrassing, but I’d rather be embarrassed than unprepared,” you blink at the boy.

“I suppose you’re going to stick the whole Aegis Shield down there as well then?” He blinks back. You know he’s trying to clown you, but it’s also no secret that you’ve never been without the shield since it was gifted to you from the Prince himself.

You shake your head. “It’s too big to hide. I don’t want to stand out anymore than I already will.” Because amongst a crowd of nobles and royalty, a Crestless like you will be no more than a fish out of water. Even the most beautiful gown cannot hide that reality.

“If anyone says something about you, I’ll-”

“You’ll smile and move on because you have a reputation to maintain,” you finish the statement for him.

“Will you really be okay with that?” Jimin frowns.

All you do is nod. You don’t need protecting or for your feelings to be spared. It’s your job to defend him; not the other way around.

-

As the sun sets later that evening, you follow the Prince’s lead into the glamor and prestige of Garreg Mach’s annual ball. Aside from keeping an eye out for anything suspicious, all you need to do is act pretty and proper. You’ve learned at least that much after observing the event from afar all these years as a Knight of Seiros.

You don’t hold his hand, but rather, you hook your arm around his. If you were truly in love with your date, you’d much prefer to intertwine your fingers with his and never let go. That, to you, would feel more comforting and secure. But love is not the game you’re playing.

As Jimin makes his rounds to greet each and every guest, you evaluate their individual intentions. Fortune, luxury, reputation, power. From years past, you recall that many female guests had also made romantic advances on the Prince through not-so-subtle caresses, bedroom eyes, and the like. The way you stare at them with such intensity of judgment must be quite intimidating because not a single romantic advance is made on Jimin this year with you beside him.

Even through the casual, yet all important, gathering of Fodlan’s leaders, you observe no sign of suspicious activity and sense no danger to the Prince’s life. The King of Faerghus, the Emperor of Adrestia, the Leader of Leicester, and Jimin all chat as though they are one big happy family, each expressing interest in moving forward with the unification of their nations.

If the letter turns out to be an empty threat as Namjoon suggested, perhaps the unification of Fodlan can be settled without any casualties. That would be the best case scenario, though you’re still skeptical that anything could ever be that simple.

Once handshakes are exchanged and the meeting is adjourned, Jimin sends his fellow leaders off with that charming smile of his, and you try to do the same. You wouldn’t exactly describe your own smile as charming—“forced” is probably a better word for it—but it seems to be satisfactory enough for all but the Adrestrian Emperor.

She doesn’t say anything, but her long stare in your direction tells you she knows something. Whether it’s that you’re the only Crestless in attendance, or that you were once a child of Adrestia, she finally returns a smile similar to your own before heading back out of the meeting room.

“That went pretty well, didn’t it?” Jimin pulls you in closer to him as the two of you step back into the lively reception hall where most of the guests are gathered. When you turn to face him, he radiates. Part of you wants to mention the off-putting vibe you got from the Adrestian Emperor, but a larger part of you wishes not to put a damper on Jimin’s high spirits. So you keep your mouth shut.

Besides, you believe the Emperor’s intentions, if any, are not directed toward the Prince. And that assumption is quickly confirmed based on the gossip now floating around amongst the noble guests.

“What business does a Crestless have with the Prince?”

“Prince Jimin can do so much better.”

“I heard that’s the one who slaughtered an entire army with a stolen Hero’s Relic.”

“The one also responsible for Prince Hoseok’s death?”

“Such a sinful Crestless exists?”

“At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter who he’s fooling around with. As heir to the Fodlan throne, there’s no way anyone would allow him to marry below nobility.”

You do your best not to roll your eyes at the comments made about yourself. They don’t upset you, but you are annoyed. You certainly do not need to be reminded of your worth, your sins, or that Jimin would be better off with literally anyone else as his date. You don’t need to hear the very thoughts that have haunted and tormented your mind for as long as you can remember.

They don’t know your whole story, and you don’t care to share it with them either. Let them think what they will.

You suddenly spin Jimin in front of you, close the distance as much you can without kissing his ear, and whisper, “Can we get a change of scenery?” The boy agrees and pulls you away from the festivities of the ball.

“I wish you didn’t have to hear all that nonsense,” he says after closing the door to his quarters. Luckily, his room is not too far from the reception hall.

“Oh, I wasn’t bothered by that,” you shrug, unhooking the sword from the garter on your thigh and leaning it with the unused shield. “I just wanted those foul guests to believe we eloped or something. Maybe they’ll start a rumor about that too.”

“Y/N,” Jimin sits you down on his bed, “I can tell when something bothers you, you know.”

“How?”

“You start acting petty out of spite.”

He’s not wrong. Your pettiness is one habit you’ve never been able to shake from your soul. “Regardless, those nobles can think or say whatever they please about me. Nothing will ever change the worth of a Crestless anyway.”

“It shouldn’t matter if you bear a crest or not,” he says softly.

“It shouldn’t, but it does. It matters plenty to the nations of Fodlan. Crests hold a lot of power, which means bearers are not exiled from their own bloodline, they are not expendable objects, and they do not have to fight for their right to exist. If not for the Central Church, you and I-”

“You and I would not have met.” He’s wrong.

“We wouldn’t have met under these circumstances, but we would’ve met,” you say, “as enemies of war.” Because had the church not taken you from your birthplace of Adrestia as a child, you’d surely want to stop Fodlan’s unification like the ones who wrote that letter.

“Then I’m forever grateful we met the way we did,” Jimin leans over you until your back is down against the bed. From above, he has you in a place of vulnerability. “Because I will always fancy you more than any bearer of a crest.”

From below, you look up into his eyes and find solace in the one person you want to trust. It’s just a matter of accepting that solace and allowing yourself to trust enough to let him in.

Before you know it, soft caresses of the Prince’s lips invade your skin. He starts just below your cheek and works his way down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses as he goes. Your chin lifts and tilts on its own, as if to uncover more skin for the boy to please. He thankfully picks up on the cue and tends to your needs.

At the same time, you struggle to downplay the desperation in your body. You shouldn’t be having an intimate moment with the Prince when you’re supposed to be protecting him. After all, it’s wrong to be so lustful for a forbidden affair.

But the feeling of him against your bare skin is painfully addicting. The more he kisses, the further you want to go.

“We shouldn’t… be doing this…” you manage to say against your desires.

“What should we be doing then?” Jimin’s fingers run through your hair as he waits patiently for a response, but even the most innocent touch is making it hard to think. You only have one thing consuming your mind, and it isn’t what you should be doing.

You reach for his ruffled collar to pull his body down closer to you, practically reducing the space between you and him to nothing. To answer the boy’s question, you start unbuttoning his uniform from top to bottom. After tossing the princely uniform aside, it only takes him a second to rid you of the gown that had seemed so difficult to get on.

Without thinking, you pull him back on top of you. You’re aching to be touched, you need to be relieved of this unbearable heat, and you’ve reached the point of desperation where your legs are spread out as wide as they can go.

“You poor thing,” Jimin teases, staring right between your thighs for the longest second until finally swiping a sample of your glaze. He makes it a point to show you how wet you’ve made his fingers before sucking them off with a naughty smirk. “Is this what years of lusting after me tastes like?”

You hate that he’s very much aware of the feelings you had for him at one point in time. However, those feelings have since become much more complex. You’ve done your best to block out any romantic feelings and channel those lost emotions elsewhere for the sake of protecting the Prince. So what does that really leave you with?

“Aah…!” A moan escapes your throat when Jimin’s fingers give you another pleasant surprise down there. Only this time, he strokes you in a circular motion, over and over again. Your breathing quickens to the rhythm of his touch—he’s taken control over your body’s sensual instincts. And every time he casually brushes against your erect little bud, a wave of sensitivity makes you gasp out in pleasure.

Though your eyes remain shut for the most part to cope with the immense pleasure, you do catch a glimpse of the Prince’s now swollen cock. Either he’s been multitasking while pleasuring you, or the sight and sounds of your feverish state were more than enough to get him hard. When he stiffens and moans upon your sudden touch, you know it’s the latter.

As you glide your hand up and down his length, you angle yourself right beneath him to be in the optimal fucking position. With your free hand, you use your index and middle fingers to spread yourself open, and, with the other, you direct and ease the handful of cock into your entrance.

Once Jimin’s in deep enough, you let go and soothe the throbbing of your excited clit. As you take your time in building up the intensity, you glance up at the boy to make sure he’s watching you play with yourself. The sheer arousal reflected in your eyes seems to encourage him to start thrusting in and out of you to build up his own climax.

As your fingers continue to tease your clit and Jimin’s length continues to run through you, the sensations become so overwhelming that you can no longer tell where they’re coming from. Your entire body feels hot and tingly as if the sex were a wildfire that spread from head to toe. The only difference is that you wish the flame would never go out.

Based on how much Jimin’s moans have increased in volume and frequency, you can tell he’s as close as you are. You at first try to keep your fingers in rhythm with his quickening thrusts, but the rhythm is lost when the fucking becomes driven by total lust and no thought. Still, you manage to hit your high just before he reaches his.

For a long while, you lay there, waiting for your heartbeat to calm as Jimin does the same from above. If there was ever any tension, sexual or not, between you and the Prince, it’s certainly gone now. Looking up at the boy now, after the waves of sex have finally settled, you feel at peace. Even if it’s short-lived, you have to be content with the intimacy you were able to spend with the boy you once loved.

So when he goes in for the long-awaited kiss, you have to interrupt him. A kiss from the Prince would be asking for a little too much on a forbidden night of many other sins.

“I should go back to being your guard now,” you say softly, scooting your ass over to change back into the gown. “Then we need to return to the ball. I’d hate for assassins to attack over there while we’re here in the middle of… this…”

But before you can hop off the bed, Jimin stops you in your tracks. “Don’t worry, the assassination attempt won’t happen.”

“How can you be sure?” you ask in genuine curiosity because there must’ve been something you missed.

“Because I was the one who faked the letter this morning.”

You freeze. Why would the Prince ever want to fake an assassination threat on his own life? You can think of one reason, but you really hope that’s not the case. “Jimin, if you faked a dangerous situation for the sake of getting me to attend this damned ball with you, I won’t forgive you.”

When he fails to give you a response, you ball your hand up into a tight fist and start putting on your usual knight uniform as opposed to your gown. You can’t believe you allowed yourself to be so foolishly deceived.

“Y/N, wait-”

“Do you really not give a damn about your own life or duties as the future ruler of Fodlan?” you snap. “I’d rather give my life for someone who prioritizes their responsibilities for the sake of the entire continent than an entitled little prince who’d forgo all of that for someone born without a crest.”

You’re mad at not only the Prince but also yourself. You thought that after being so blinded and betrayed by trust once before, you’d never forget the fatal consequences of opening your heart to anyone. Trust and compassion have only ever brought you despair.

“If the assassination threat was all a hoax, I suppose my protection is no longer needed for the rest of the night.” You pick up your sword and slam the door behind you, leaving the shield behind once again.

-

You escape to the woodsy outskirts of Central Fodlan south of the monastery. The area may be recovering now with young saplings and shrubs as small animal families return home, but you still remember the scorched land from years ago when the first war you fought in took place. No matter where you walk, you stand on the soil once soaked in the blood of your enemies and allies.

But before the war, you had often paid visits to this secluded part of Fodlan whenever you needed time and space away from the monastery. There, you had first encountered a kid around your age who was kind enough to befriend you, despite your differences. It’s a shame you can no longer go back to the time when you could ignorantly trust in people without worry. And even if you could go back, you’d do everything differently so that the Prince would not have had to suffer the desolate fate you bestowed upon him.

It’s all your fault for carelessly putting your trust in others.

When you find a tree tall enough to lean against, you unsheathe your sword and examine it under the moonlight. The reddish brown sheen that reflects in the light is not rust, but your sins. It seems the blade will never be rid of the blood that tainted it on that day.

“It’d be best if we could lure the Prince and his guard away from the festivities.” Your sharp ears pick up on a small troop of rogue soldiers headed in the direction of the monastery. It sounds an awful lot like an assassination attempt.

From behind the tree, you try to figure out what the heck is going on while also deciding on the best course of action. Why are there foreign soldiers going after Jimin if he said the threat was a fake?

…Unless he was lying about that too.

You groan silently to yourself. For as long as you’ve known Jimin, he’s always been quite unpredictable to you and his actions are often questionable until you get an explanation. Perhaps there’s a better reason for his lie this time. But for now, you have to find a way to lure the soldiers away from the innocent guests at the monastery.

Just then, you swing your sword around at the slightest brush against your shoulder, but it turns out to only be the foolish Prince everyone’s looking for. You lower your blade.

“What are you doing, walking out here without a guard?” you hiss.

“Actually, I’m looking for my guard who seems to have abandoned me,” he says with the Aegis Shield you had left behind.

“That’s what you get for being an irresponsible Prince.” You keep your eye on the soldiers. “But before I smack you in the head for that, we have to do something about that troop over there.”

“They don’t look really tough, though.” Jimin takes the opportunity to lean right over you against the tree, but you aren’t quite ready to start accepting his flirtatious antics again.

“But that’s what makes it suspicious,” you blatantly ignore his failed kabedon. “They know they won't stand a chance against the Knights of Seiros, so why even bother?”

“It could be a trap?” he suggests. “Or maybe they have other intentions.”

“Whatever the case, we’ll stop them here and now.”

You make sure the Prince has a sword of his own before shoving him out from behind the tree. If the rustling of dead leaves did not already capture the attention of the soldiers, your shouting and waving at them does.

The alarmed soldiers quickly shift their sights from the monastery to you and the Prince. As soon as they begin to charge, so do you. Unlike many royal guards who stick close to their highnesses, you do not. Jimin may have lived a life of luxury as Prince, but you’ve made sure he learned how to fend for himself. In fact, he was the one who suggested that you teach him proper swordsmanship in the first place—perhaps one of his many elaborate schemes to get closer to you.

As soon as you clash blades with a soldier brave enough, you recognize the enemy troop is no pushover like you and Jimin had anticipated. Though they have the appearance of commoners who’ve never held a weapon in their life, the power behind their swing is comparable to your own. And it doesn’t quite add up.

When you’ve suppressed several soldiers, you glance over to Jimin exchanging blows with an assassin who has a more proper handle of his blade. Jimin’s golden shield blocks many of what could’ve been fatal blows, but its weight also hinders his movement against the nimble assassin.

You rush over, whipping your sword at the assassin to push him back from Jimin’s vicinity. Once you engage in a long drawn sword exchange with the assassin, you’re taken back by the familiarity in the energy he emanates. It somehow feels like the power from the Crest of Fraldarius, the very crest that Jimin bears. But that can’t be the case when crests are inherited through specific bloodlines by chance. And as far as you know, this random soldier has no blood connection to Jimin or House Fraldarius.

Either way, you eventually gain the advantage and pierce the enemy as the curved blade of your Blutgang bleeds once more. Crest or no crest, the enemy nor the Prince can keep up with the mercilessness in your every swing. In what feels like minutes, you’ve cut down the entire troop aside from the few that Jimin could handle himself.

You stare down at the body of the soldier who had given Jimin an exceptionally hard time. “Did you notice that this one had-”

“The Crest of Fraldarius,” Jimin nods. “There’s no mistaking it, but somehow it felt off.”

“Like it wasn’t the real deal?”

“Like it was a crest that didn’t belonged to him.”

The boy’s suggestion gives you something to think about. You wonder if the other soldiers also had crests of some sort—crests that were not rightfully theirs. It’s as if they were once Crestless who somehow extracted and obtained the power of a crest. Perhaps by the means of the most sacred and darkest of sorcery.

Just when you’re finally able to lower your sword, you raise it again to guard against another unwelcomed guest. With a stream of dark magic striking the earth in front of the Prince, you dash over to shield him from any other potential impacts. What you get instead is a mysterious hooded mage who doesn’t seem interested in challenging you. The magic that radiates off him is far stronger than any of the other soldiers.

“Well done on putting a stop to our little assassination plot,” he says. “But it seems we’ve already gathered a lot of valuable intel on our real target.”

“Who’s your real target then?” Jimin asks.

“Someone who can wield Hero’s Relics and slaughter crest bearers despite bearing no crest of their own.” The mage looks first at the bloodstained blade in your grips and then directly at you. His eyes are not so different from your own—empty.

Rather than the Prince’s head, they wanted you.

But why?

Before you can ask the man, he disappears into the unknown along with the bodies of his fallen soldiers. And although the outskirts are quiet once more with only you and the Prince, you keep your eyes peeled and wait a good ten seconds before sheathing your weapon.

You try to make sense of the enemy’s true intentions from a rational perspective, but the mage’s words still do not sit well with you. What exactly were they planning on doing with you, a Crestless who can wield Hero’s Relics and slaughter crest bearers?

“I won’t let them have you,” Jimin nudges your side, whilst holding the Aegis Shield out in front of you and him. “I’d even die for you.”

“Oh, how the tables have turned,” you play along with his dramatic scene just for a moment. Something about the boy makes you forget about your worries, your pain. “But please never die for my sake, Jimin.”

“Then how about I live for you?” he asks.

“Live first for the people of Fodlan,” you respond, hooking your arm once more around his. “Shall we return to the ball now before everyone wonders where their Prince ran off to?”

“No need. I already properly excused myself from the ball for the rest of the night.” Jimin frowns when you unhook your arm faster than you can swing your sword. “But I would like you to escort me back to my quarters.”

“Fine,” you agree. “But on the way back, you need to tell me why you lied about faking that real assassination threat.”

So he does.

“I still think it was a stupid move, Jimin.”

“I just wanted to take your mind off of your knightly duties without worrying about my safety for once! I thought you’d feel more comfortable with me if you knew my life was not in immediate danger,” he waves his hands in defense. “I didn’t think you’d actually abandon me.”

“Well sorry for thinking you made up the threat just so I’d sleep with you. You made me believe you weren’t taking the nature of your job seriously, and that the future of Fodlan was doomed with a ruler who thinks only with his cock,” you jab lightly into his ribs, forgetting all about the wound from the day before.

“Worry not. The future of Fodlan will always be my first priority,” he assures you. “But you are also part of Fodlan’s future, aren’t you? Doesn’t that still make you my first priority then?”

“When you put it that way, I guess so,” you say, though you genuinely wonder about that. Because as a Crestless, you’ve never felt like you belonged in Fodlan. “But just know that you needn’t go that far for me, Jimin.”

“And you needn’t act so tough all the time, Y/N.” He wants you to know that you can rely on him, that you can be vulnerable, and that he’ll protect you just as you protect him. You understand all of that, and yet, it’s still easier said than done.

Once you safely escort the Prince back to his quarters, you think you can finally relieve yourself of guard duty for the night and put some real thought into the mysterious mage’s intentions. But you’re wrong.

“Let me clean up that wound on your cheek before you go,” Jimin air-pokes the high point on your cheek.

“I didn’t realize I was cut there in battle…” you say, letting the boy reel you back into his room.

You sit patiently on his bed as he searches for a bandage, but you wouldn’t put it past the senseless Prince to not have any medical supplies lying around his quarters. You’re the one who’s usually tending to his wounds with your own first-aid kit anyway.

When not a single bandage is found, Jimin walks back over to you and pinches your cheeks together just as he had earlier in the day. You don’t quite understand the context this time, and especially not after he sneaks a kiss onto where your supposed wound was.

“That should heal the wound.” The smile on his face is too smug for your liking.

Very quickly, your face turns into a big fat pout. “If you continue to lie and fool around like this, you’re going to end up like the boy who cried beast.”

“For as sharp as you are in sniffing out an enemy, you sure are gullible around me, Y/N,” he teases.

“That’s because I want to believe that everything with you is real,” you say, “even if it can’t.”

The boy’s smile is quick to fade.

“Just kidding,” you shrug, getting up from the bed. “Anyway, I should get going now. Goodnight, Jimin.”

He doesn’t stop you. He can’t stop you because he knows you weren’t kidding about wishing for a fate that wasn’t meant for you. And that’s not something a kiss could ever change.

While you’re glad Jimin will be taking responsibility in prioritizing Fodlan from here on out, you still have much to be concerned about. Your presence has only complicated matters when the Prince is someone who thinks with his heart, not his head—to the point where he’d give up everything for you.

You’ve tried to make him set aside his personal feelings for the sake of Fodlan’s future, but it’s apparent that he cannot separate you, the one he wants to protect, from Fodlan, the land he needs to protect. He cannot see that, no matter how much he wishes for things to be different, you and all the other Crestless will never truly belong in the future of Fodlan—the Fodlan he will soon lead.

If you were to leave his side, perhaps he would be able to see that he’s trying to make the impossible possible. After all, unless Crestless are able to prove their worth to the nobles of Fodlan, they are worth nothing at all. The only way to prove your worth is to be merciless, tough, and to spare no blood. And maybe only then would Jimin be able to fully realize that this is where your two paths diverge.

It’s only after you’ve walked out and closed the door that you leave the Prince with one last thing to consider. “I know my place in this world, and it’s never been with you, Jimin. Even I’m not that gullible.”

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans Are Space Orcs, “Size Six.”

So I have been working on this for a few days based on a rquest form someone who wanted to see more stuff form when Adam was younger. I will, of course, be starting on the extra requested fluff for you guys tomorrow, but I hope this works for today. 

The bus bumped and jostled over the lumpy dirt road. Inside bodies swayed and juggle back and forth ramming into walls and steadying themselves against the antiquated seats before them. The bus was old, older than a large portion of dirt, old enough to have rubber tires, shitty suspension, and foam back seats, nothing like the sleek magno buses they used these days. Clearly their program wasn’t important enough to acquire a real transport vehicle. 

Their ride from the airport had been nerve wracking to say the least, and only some of it had come from the imminent threat that the bus would disintegrate into its component parts, most of the rest of it had come from the slow building of nervous energy felt by all the young teens as they waited to begin their first day at training.

There were forty of them in all, though less than half of that was predicted to make it through the training and actually become pilots from the program at Trans Space Combative aviation Academy. Of course the Academy didn’t have its own location, as new as it was and untested as it was, the burgeoning UNSC wasn’t likely to spend a ton of funds on a group of untested children. So they had been shipped onto Del Rio Texas where the air force flight academy was located, and allocated space, some instructors, and a few classrooms to get started.

Adam had found the other recruits from the program nervously waiting outside with their duffel bags and clothing. None of them were over the age of fifteen, and they consisted almost equally of boys and girls.

Adam was displeased to find himself the shortest among the boys, and about mid pack among the girls, a good portion of them probably weighing a good ten pounds more than he did, though none of them were out of shape.

He tried to ignore that doing his best to make friends with the other nervous recruits determined not to be the loser this time. Just as long as he didn’t show his weird to them straight off, maybe he was going to be fine. It seemed to be working, at least until the buss pulled up, and the group of them stared on with shock and disappointment at the monstrosity before them. 

They sort of hoped it wasn’t for them, but the ACU clad, army man stepping out of the door and onto the pavement dashed their hopes.

And soon they were on their way, jostling down the highway, eventually cutting through manned security gates, patrolled by armed guards, and finally onto the backroad that was taken around the airfield. Adam had his face pressed up against the window watching as a set of jets took off leaving trails of white behind them in the great blue sky above.

The implant in his arm buzzed, and he looked down to see a text from his  mother asking if they had landed yet.

He had to apologize for forgetting and assure her that he was, indeed, landed and on his way.

The further they went onto the base, the more people they could see, large muscular men and women running in formation wearing the same light grey T-shirts tucked into blue canvas shorts.

Voices roared past them as the men chanted in time with their cadence.

Low lying buildings pulled up on the horizon in front of them, crouched together in stumpy lines. Yelled commands wafted through open windows as more recruits rolled past kicking up dirt clouds as they went.

Adam grew nervous upon seeing them, big and adult.

He glanced down at himself and his baggy T-shirt and jeans held up only by a belt, the cuffs folded up over his shoes.

They belonged to his brothers, but were still too big for him.

The bus rolled to a stop just then jostling him forward so his face nearly rammed into the seat in front of him.A dust cloud billowed up around them obscuring his vision for a moment. At the front of the buss, the driver reached out and cranked the handle to the door manually forcing it open.

“Wow, this thing is a real piece of shit.” Someone muttered

Boots thudded onto the stairs, and the entire bus went quiet as a man stepped onto the front of the bus. He was tall, and serious faced with thick eyebrows and what appeared to be a shaved head, though it was mostly covered by a wide brimmed dumbass hat in dark, clashing seriously with his patterned ACUs.

They all waited on the edge of their seats.

Adam shrunk down into his expecting to get yelled at.

That’s what all the old army movies told him was going to happen.

Instead, however, the man smiled.

Adam didn’t buy it for one second.

“Welcome recruits to the first TSCA Academy class of 4013. I am Master Sergeant Kimball, and I will be one of your MTI (military training instructors) during this program. If you need to address me at any time during this course you will call me Sir or Master Sergeant Kimball. Now I understand that you may all be tired from your flight. We have recruits here from all across the world, so hopefully, today will be easy and relaxing.”

Adam eyed the group around him watching as the others began to relax.

Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all? Perhaps because they were kids, they had been given some leeway during the training process.

I mean, were they really going to yell at a group of kids barely out of their teenage years.

“Alright everyone, Unload!”

There was a collective shuffling around the bus as the group of them took to their feet and began slowly shuffling towards the exit. Adam pulled his bag over his back, nearly tipping over backwards as the weight pulled his small frame off balance. Someone put a hand on his shoulder, ‘Whoa.” 

He glanced over and thanked the girl who helped him hurrying off the bus and down the stairs into the hot as hell Texas heat.

Stepping off the bus he found Master Sergeant Kimball standing next to two other MTIs, who were smiling at them, though their smiles seemed more wolfish than reassuring. 

My what big teeth you have he thought idly to himself stepping to the side so the others could walk through.

One boy came trudging down the steps last lugging an absolutely massive suitcase as a few of the others flopped to the ground resting against their bags eyes closed basking like lizards in the sun.

Sgt. Kimball stepped forward towards the last young man, “Here let me help you.”

The boy seemed rather grateful handing his bag down to the MTI taking some weight off his shoulders.

That was until Sgt. Kimball grabbed the zipper, opened the bag and dumped the entire contents of the suitcase into the dirt. He then got right up in the boy’s face and shouted, “NOW WHAT THE EVER LOVING FUCK DO YOU NEED A BAG LIKE THAT FOR. CHRIST SON, I COULD USE IT YO SMUGGLE YOUR CORPSE OUT WHEN I’M DONE WITH YOU.” 

The entire group jolted with surprise bolting upwards.

Even Adam was startled, and he had been expecting it. The poor kid was scrambling around in the dirt trying to collect his things, “GET YOUR ASS OFF THE GROUND YOU SORRY PIECE OF SHIT.”

The two other MTIs bore down on them their charming smiles revealed for what they really were. Wolf in sheep's clothing, snarling ravening beasts.

More bags were dumped on the ground, turned over, emptied until the contents mingled with the dust on the ground. The female MTI leaped over ripping Adam’s bag off the ground and tossing it’s contents into the dust. She reached down picked up a book and chucked it at him hitting him in the chest as he stumbled back, “YOU THINK YOU’RE GONNA HAVE TIME FOR READING!”

She moved on to the next student.

One of the recruits had burst into tears, and the MTI’s descended like vultures. One of them grabbed a water bottle from the ground and shoved it at the crying student, “BETTER GET STARTED ON CRYING ME A RIVER.”

Adam was scrambling to pick up his stuff and shove it back in his bag, “GET ON YOUR FEET!”

He bolted upright to find Sgt. Kimball in his face, or more looking down on him. His face was red and as he screamed little droplets of spit flew for his tongue. He gave Adam one long look over, “GOOD LORD BOY I’VE TAKEN SHITS MORE SUBSTANTIAL THAN YOU!”

“GO ON CLEAN UP THIS SHIT, IT’S FILTHY WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN DOING, THEN GET YOUR ASSES DOWN TO INTAKE.” He scrambled to put his things in his bag the MTI’s shouting at him the entire time. He nearly tripped over himself multiple times falling flat on his face in the dirt much to the amusement of the MTIs.

“LEAVE YOUR SHIT HERE.” 

He tripped and wobbled running after the others as they ran towards the building that had been pointed out to them by the screaming MTIs.

A few of the other recruits were crying, but Adam, well he had sort of expected it, and honestly he would have been disappointed if they hadn’t. IN fact he found himself grinning from ear to ear as he walked into the equipment room behind a line of other recruits.

The equipment officer turned around from his desk to glare at them. He was a heavy-set man in his late forties with biceps as big around as tree trunks.

He looked them over with a frown before jabbing his finger at Adam, “You there, smiley. Small or extra small.” He blushed, “er…. Extra…. Small.”

“At least he’s honest.” The man grouted turning around to rifle through his equipment coming back with two pairs of everything in stock. He stacked it on the counter in front of him.

“Two PT uniforms, Two ACUs, two shirts, sweatpants, jacket, gloves, hat, and.” He pulled up a set of tan combat boots then glanced him up and down, “What is your shoe size?” 

“Er….” More blushing, “Six.”

The man grunted ducked back behind the counter, “We only carry eight plus in mens, but a seven in women’s shoulder work.”

He tried not to wilt at the reminder of how small he was. 

He turned away again and motioned him off. He clambered to pick up everything he needed and wobbled away juggling the boots the pants and the jacket with some difficulty, dropping a glove on the floor and nearly dropping everything else when he went to pick it up.

Walking outside he was met by another MTI who yelled at him to get his ass to the barracks to change and put all his shit away. He hurried to do as he was told running and nearly dropping everything again as he made his way through the doors into a large room lined along either side with beds, a single trunk at the base.

He ran to one of the beds at the far end, opened the crate and placed his things inside struggling to pull on one of the PT uniforms as the others ran into the room to do the same, throwing their things in the lockers at the base of the beds as the MTIs continued to scream at them.

It was only as he was running out of the room that he noticed the horrible terrible thing.

The extra small pants…. Were too big.

He tried looking for a drawstring to make them tighter, but they were canvas with an elastic waist, and they did not go any tighter. He turned in his spot trying to figure out what to do, but as soon as he slowed down another MTI was screaming at him to get back onto the field and line up.

So he chickened out, holding onto his pants for dear life as he raced back to the training ground. 

Upon making it there he helped the other students line up into evenly space rows thinking that the MTIs might be impressed with them if they were to do that.

They did their best to stand like they were supposed to, though all of the instruction they had ever gotten was from old war movies, and they were all doing it horribly wrong, a fact for which the MTIs noticed and yelled at them for with great glee as soon as they noticed. Of course they were eventually whipped into shape standing in line in straight rows heels together hands at sides, shoulders back.

He could feel his pants slipping, though he was too embarrassed to say anything.

Sgt Kimball stepped out in front of them hands behind his back, “what did I say! Didn’t i say we were going to have a fun relaxing day! Are you having fun!” He was right in one of the recruits face now bellowing almost at the top of his lungs. He moved onto the next student, “Are you relaxed!”

Adam didn’t think the kid looked particularly relaxed. In fact, he looked so tense, that if he squeezed any harder his spine was going to go shooting out of his ass.

“Well!”

There was silence on the grounds.

“WELL!”

Adam scrambled his brain not entirely sure what to do before squeaking out, “Yes sir.” 

The MTI leaned in, “Why don’t you try and communicate in normal ranges of human hearing, son. I am not a bat!”

He looked back up at the rest of the group, “WELL!”

“YES SIR.”

“That’s better.” He turned to stalk away from Adam pacing up and down the line, “i will be straight with you when I say that today IS going to be fun and relaxing compared to what you will be going through in the next few years. If you manage to make it into this program I promise you we will destroy your social life, you will have time for nothing other than this program and sleeping, if I decide to allow you to sleep, that is.”

Adam was grinning.

Unfortunately that caught the Sgt’s eye, “THE FUCK ARE YOU SMILING AT!”

He waited.

Adam just stood there.

“ANSWER THE QUESTION GODDAMMIT!”

He scrambled, “Yes sir, sorry sir! I thought it was a rhetorical question.”  

“HEAVENS ABOVE HAVE MERCY ON MY SOUL. I SAID ANSWER THE QUESTION!”

His mouth opened then closed, “Er…”

“THE HELL KIND OF ANSWER IS THAT!”

“Um.”

“Sweet Jehova did you come out this stupid or is it a family tradition, a side hobby?”

“I’m sorry sir, I forgot the question.”

He lowered his head with an exaggerated sigh rubbing his temples , “Forgot the question. FORGOT THE QUESTION. I’VE MET GOLDFISH WITH BETTER MEMORIES THAN YOU! I SAID WHY THE HELL ARE YOU SMILING.”

He blushed, “Oh….. Um” “HURRY UP.”

“BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE A SOCIAL LIFE FOR YOU TO RUIN, SIR.”

That seemed to take the man back, and he simply sat there staring at Adam with a bemused expression.

“If you were any more pathetic, smiley, I might just cry for you. Honest to god, if you get any more pathetic I will cry real tears for your shame.” 

He turned away.

“Now everyone get on the ground and give me FIFTY.”

At least everyone seemed to know what that meant, though pathetically enough his arms were wobbling at twenty.

“JUMPING JUPITER RECRUIT, I DIDN’T EXPECT YOU TO MAKE ME CRY IN THE FIRST HALF HOUR. MY COUSIN COULD DO MORE PUSH-UPS THAN YOU AND HE’S GOT NO ARMS!”

The Sargent seemed to have a lot of disabled relatives. A blind granny, an armless cousin, a nephew with a pole up his ass from a tragic fishing accident.

By the time they were done , Adam was quite nearly ready to throw up.

“ALRIGHT FIFTY BURPIES GO,GO GO.” Oh no, anything but that.

He paused but was almost immediately screamed at to get his ass in gear. He knew what was coming before it happened, and couldn't stop it.

As he jumped down into his first plank and then back up, he could feel the waist on his pants slipping, at first just a little, but then, as his feet left the ground there they went right down around his ankles.

At first he thought he was at least lucky to be in the back row, but then scrambling to pick his pants back up, he realized none of that was going to matter.

Sgt. Kimball was staring at him, cheek twitching.

He himself was blushing excessively. 

He was quiet for a very long time before, “CONTROL YOURSELF RECRUIT, THE LAST THING I NEED TO SEE IS YOUR CHICKEN LEG FLAT ASS KIDDIE JUNK ON MY TRAINING FIELD. Fuck, as small as you are I’ll probably be indited for CP. Now go get some new fucking pants before you blind us all for a second time. And, since it seems you’ve never seen leg day, I want you to cluck like a chicken all the way there. Let everyone know the pantsless chicken boy is coming.”

He did as he was told rose red the entire time and beat red on his way back seeing as, they had given him the smallest size available in mens, so instead he had been given a pair of woman’s shorts, which, due to the cut, tended to ride up in very uncomfortable places of his anatomy.

It was a very good thing he was used to embarrassment.

Or this was going to be a very long couple of years.

***

Commander Vir blinked and put a hand to his head boots throwing up little puffs of dust in the Texas heat.

“You ok Commander?”

He sniffed at the air and took in a deep breath hands on hips, “Ah, the memories!”

[walpurga-nacht-academy]

Wondering what the dorm leaders would think of Yoru, and what they'd think of her not being able to attend due to the uniform, even after passing the entrance exam? 👀👀

I’m adding Alkin too, ‘cause he’s a good kitty. 

“I remember her from our admission exam and Sorting. ... I kinda wish I told her back then how cool her eyes looked! But if I say this now I’ll definitely look like a weirdo, won’t I?! It’s really frustrating!” 

Rosalia Morgainne: Though they would be in the same year if Yoru had stayed at Walpurga Nacht, Rosa did not find much of an opportunity to talk to her even if she would have liked too. She thinks Yoru’s eyes are very cool and intimidating and wondered if people would take her more seriously if she had something like that as well. The fact that Yoru keeps forgetting her name easily riles her up so she’s not had the opportunity to tell her what she really thinks of them. 

“This girl... It’s an unfortunate situation but rules are rules and we cannot make exceptions even for one person.” 

Blanche Dion: Though she insists this is the way things must be, Blanche understands that Yoru’s situation is unfair since she as a beastfolk knows that customized clothing is usually necessary for them. However, that’s how far her compassion ends since otherwise she would be annoyed by her disregard for rules and would probably try to scold her if she caught her breaking them. Blanche is already annoyed that she breaks into the school library quite often, but is at least tempered by the fact that she hasn’t found a way inside the Grimmaire Great Library. Yet. 

“Oh, man! Those wings would have been a big help with the Delivery Service on campus. Imagine the kind of speed she’d have... Ah, but then again I might have been left out of job, hm...”

Marcia Pyroeis: As a naturally friendly person, Marcia wouldn’t have hesitated to befriend Yoru, especially since they seem to both enjoy the feeling of flying. She’d most likely have invited Yoru to join her in being part of the Walpurga Nacht Post Office since her wings would have given her a great advantage. Also, she would like to try and race against her as part of her flight practice if she ever found the time. She’d express sympathy towards her for not being able to attend due to her uniform issues, but can’t really complain much since hers was a hands down from her older sister. 

“That one... ain’t she friends with that ghoul and the creepy one? Ugh... just thinkin’ ‘bout them makes my skin crawl. Ain’t nothing good ‘bout keepin’ company with them...”  

June Himalia: June’s a difficult person to get along with most of the time, since it’s easy to rile her up and if she sees Yoru get along with Vita and Agatha, it’ll leave her with a bad impression of her. She deeply dislikes those two and would think she’s fool for getting along with such unpleasant people. If Yoru messed with her garden she’d definitely get pissed and won’t hold back. Yoru’s situation doesn’t concern her much since she sees it as merely a case of life being life and thus unfair. 

“I understand. I always get scolded for rolling up my sleeves. Even though animals don’t need clothes...”

Diana Arrow: Out of all the girls Diana would probably understand the unfairness of Yoru’s situation the most, since she herself gets in trouble just for rolling up her sleeves when wearing her uniform. She likes that Yoru is friendly to crows, since she also looks after all the animals that reside in Walpurga Nacht. Though Yoru might have a big of a shock seeing her walk about Monarchia’s plains naked if she ever decides to drop by. Moreover, Diana would compliment her bird features since she genuinely thinks they’re beautiful. 

“Miss Crowley’s wingspan is fantastic! I’ve never seen feathers in such vibrant colours and they’re all well taken care of too- Um! I’m sorry, that must have come across as disturbing.”

Cassandra Delphinne: Much like Diana, Cass would admire Yoru’s bird features, but because she fears she might weird her out, usually keeps it to herself. She also thinks it’s unfortunate Yoru couldn’t attend the academy because then she might have felt more comfortable approaching her in order to befriend her. Cass sometimes spots her when she drops by Walpurga Nacht and makes note of the state of her wings in her little agenda. 

“Yoru... Big Bro and... Big Sis both... like her... so... I like... her... too... And... hehehehe... it’s always good... to... meet people... who think... alike... hehehe...” 

Agatha Voisin: Agatha’s personal philosophy is that anyone that gets along with Sam and Vita is her friend as well, since she looks up to both of them. The fact that Yoru doesn’t recoil from her also earns her some points in Agatha’s book, along with the fact that she’s willing to lend some of her blood for experimentation. Agatha might even ask Yoru to drop by once in a while so she can join her and Professor Yaga during one of their experiments. Yoru should definitely expect a lot of witch cackling and being called ‘crow meat’ during those meetings. 

“Yoru Crowley... Yes, I recall her well. Her father was rather pleased to see her admitted, so much that he became bothersome. It’s a shame that nothing could be done about her attendance, but... Astra’s legacy must be preserved.”

Alkin: Though Alkin is more acquainted with Crowley, he was able to recognize her as his daughter the first time she showed up at the school. Though he thinks it’s a shame how things turned out, he sees it as inevitable since his Mistress’ vision must be preserved. Maybe that’s why he turns a blind eye whenever she breaks in to check out the library and alchemy laboratories as long as she doesn’t cause trouble for the other students. If Yoru brings him a can of sardines it makes it even easier. 

[starlightsearches]

Could I please request Hux at the academy pining after his f! classmate?? How it resolves is up to you but I really love your writing and one of my favourite parts is how you write people pining! It's so sweet and really makes me feel the pangs of loneliness and flutters of excitement!

Graduation

Definitely! And thank you for saying so many nice things about me 🥺

Requests are closed for now, but will be opening again very soon ✨

Armitage Hux x Classmate! Reader

Warnings: Fluff and Yearning 😘

Ranking days are the worst days at the Academy. Or at least, they’re the worst for Armitage, who is sure that they were invented solely for the purpose of embarrassing him. Finding ways to publicly shame his son is certainly something that his father would approve of, and Commandant Hardaws is always seeking for the general’s approval.

In reality, he shouldn’t be embarrassed by his ranking. In a class of more than thirty officers, second place was quite the achievement. No, the real embarrassment should be saved for people like Javy, who consistently fell to the bottom, or Ari, who could never rank anywhere above tenth. But it was Armitage who always felt the sting the most, because he should be at the top, or at least, that’s the way it felt sometimes. After all, he had received the highest scores of anyone in both military strategy and history, and no one—on or off campus—could match his skills in the sniping simulations. And every time another quarter would end he always felt a small glimmer of hope, like this time he really had won. Those hopes never paid off though. It seemed like Armitage was destined for second best.

This ranking day is shaping up to be the worst of them all; which is fitting, considering it’s the last. He files in with the rest of his class, finding a seat towards the front of the large assembly room, the other seats already filled with the younger cadets, who are chattering about plans for the short break they’ll have before classes resume again. Armitage has no such plans. After the ceremony—and his official graduation next week—he’ll be headed to join his father on the Finalizer. He has mixed feelings about it, for a number of reasons. 

His father is here actually, in attendance, sitting on the stage with some of the professors, and when he spies Armitage in the crowd a small frown appears on his face, like he’s smelled something bad. Hardaws—who most of the students refer to as hardass when he isn’t around—moves to the front of the stage, signaling the beginning of the ceremony and everyone stands, saluting him in unison.

“Be seated,” he begins, reading from his prepared notes in a tedious tone, like he can’t wait to get this over with, “thank you for attending the final ranking ceremony for this cycle’s graduates. We are very proud of their dedication to the First Order, and all that it stands for,” Hardaws drones on for a moment before beginning with the actual ranking, reading off names of Armitage’s classmates, starting at the bottom. One by one, they walk to the stage, shaking hands with their professors and his father before returning to their seats.

Armitage listens without interest as Hardaws announces where each of his classmates will be placed upon graduation. Most of the lower-ranking cadets have already been assigned to menial positions at different First Order bases, and only a handful are assigned to work on star destroyers. He counts himself lucky, in that regard.

“In second place, we have Cadet Armitage Hux,” Hardaws reads, and Armitage stands as the crowd offers him a light smattering of applause. He moves to the stage and shakes hands with his professors without much feeling. He likes them well enough, but he’s anxious to use the skills he’s learned in real life. He’s tired of simulations. Armitage returns to his seat, and some of the younger students begin whispering with excitement, ready for the ceremony to be over. 

“And the cadet with the highest ranking is-” Hardaws doesn’t even have to read your name; everyone in the Academy already knows who is at the top. The sound of applause fills the room before he finishes, and you stand, accepting the praise with a humble smile. Armitage watches you with careful eyes, and when you catch his gaze, your grin falters. You mouth something to him; he thinks it might be the word sorry. Armitage swallows hard, confused by the attention you’ve given him. What would you be sorry for? Beating him out for first place? He doesn’t hold it against you, and it’s more than well-deserved.

You move to the stage and the applause only grows louder, each professor shaking your hand in earnest as you move down the line, ending with his father, who—miracle of miracles—offers you a small smile as you salute him. A fatherly smile.

Armitage should hate you. He should hate that you make it all look so easy, that you’ve beaten him consistently and done it seemingly without trying. But, despite the competition you’ve offered, you’re the only classmate that he actually likes. It doesn’t help that you were always so nice to him—like the time you offered to work with him on his hand-to-hand skills so that he wouldn’t fail the assessment during year one, or when you stood up to Kendaria after she called him a bitch in front of everyone in the commissary during year five. Armitage doesn’t hate you; in fact, you’re probably the one person he’ll miss the most, after all this is over. Not that he’d ever tell you that.

“She will also be joining the crew of the Finalizer after graduation next week, as one of the star destroyer’s newest lieutenants,” Hardaws says, and Armitage freezes. Did he hear that right? He probably should have expected it; with scores like yours any general would be scrambling to take you on, but the Finalizer? With him? He’s not sure how to feel about that. Part of him is annoyed; it’s so like his father to pick you to join the crew to serve as a constant reminder of Armitage’s shortcomings. But he’s a little pleased as well. Now he won’t have to say goodbye. 

“That concludes this cycle’s ranking ceremony. Cadets dismissed.” Hardaws shuffles away from the podium, talking with the other professors, who all crowd around his father. For a moment, Armitage lingers, wondering if he should say goodbye, but he dismisses that thought. He hadn’t even bothered to say hello.

It’s raining as always, on Arkanis, and Armitage stays under the covered walkways as he makes his way back to the barracks. Most of the younger cadets are celebrating their dismissal, splashing around the puddles and making a mess of their uniforms. They’ll be going home tonight, to see their parents, and to spend two blissful weeks without any concerns of schoolwork or regulations. The eldest cadets are showing a little more self-control, but they aren’t immune to the feeling either. Technically, you’re all supposed to use the next week to prepare for your future assignments: studying up on the bases and ships, looking into possible specializations, but that’s unlikely—seeing as how none of you had been allowed to relax for even a moment during the last cycle. He can’t help but feel a little hopeful as well, though. The worst has past, and soon he’ll finally be doing the work he’s trained for his whole life, and you’ll be there, too.

He can see you, a little ways ahead on the path, walking with your friend Keel. You’ve let your hair down—out of the regulation bun now that the ceremony is over—and you shake it out, running your fingers through it at the scalp. Not for the first time, Armitage admires the way you wear your cadet uniform. They’re designed for function—no one is supposed to look good—but it’s somehow different on you than everyone else. Like it was made for you. A blush spreads across Armitage’s face, and he ducks his head down, hoping that no one will notice. He’s had thoughts like this before, but only when he was alone. He balls his hands into fists, squeezing them tightly, hoping to banish the idea of running his fingers through your hair, or unbuttoning the top of your uniform and pulling it down over your shoulders.

“Congratulations, Armitage,” he tries to sneak past you and Keel without notice, but apparently he’s been unsuccessful. He stops, turning to face you, his cheeks undoubtedly still red. You wave goodbye to Keel, who heads to the year six barracks. The grounds are mostly empty now; you’re the only two left.

“Thank you. Congratulations to you, as well,” he says, and you smile, falling into step beside him. He’s known you for years, but suddenly he can’t think of a single thing to say to you. Despite the breeze blowing past, his palms are sweaty, and he knows he must look very stiff, walking with his arms pressed down so firmly at his sides.

“Are you excited for the cadet’s ball?” you ask, breaking the awkward silence, and he suppresses a groan. He had almost managed to forget; Armitage was not looking forward to three hours of standing up against the wall and watching everyone else dance. 

“I’ll be excited when we finally get to leave,” he answers, avoiding the question. He doesn’t need to explain all of his insecurities about dancing right now.

“I’m excited too,” you say, brushing the tips of your fingers over his arm for emphasis; it makes him go lightheaded, “have you spent much time on the Finalizer? With your father, I mean?”

“A little,” he says, reaching up to rub a hand over the back of his neck before he catches himself. He had spent some time on the Finalizer, but his father had forbade him from traveling to any of the more exciting areas. He probably only knows as much about the ship as you do.

“You’ll have to tell me all about it,” you say, and you stop when he stops outside the door of his shared quarters. “I don’t want to arrive unprepared.” You lean against the wall next to the door, chewing on your lip, and all of Armitage’s indecent thoughts from earlier are multiplied by a thousand. He really couldn’t wait to get to the Finalizer now. Hours of inevitable grunt work would be slightly more bearable with you at his side.

“Of course,” he says, and your smile is vibrant. He never feels inadequate around you. When he’s with you, he feels like he’s just enough. Armitage drops his gaze, moving to open his door, but you stop him, taking hold of his arm again.

“Armitage?” you say, and time has stopped, his heart has stopped, the entire galaxy has stopped as he waits to hear what you’ll say next.

“I’m glad I won’t be alone, when we go,” you say, “and I’m glad that it’s you.”