#Anyways tan behaviour unfortunately

[earraigh]

i'm so sorry to be talking about jk rowling on here but it is truly balls to the wall insane in the membrane behaviour to me that someone can be that wealthy and spend so much of their time being a hateful has-been on social media like........... girl log off.......... do literally anything else...........

[library-ducky]

Ghouls on vacation

Totally not inspired by me going to the seaside over the weekend. Not at all.

HEADCANONS UNDER THE CUT, LET'S GO

AETHER

gets everything set up

if there's a Papa nearby, he will make him sit down and rest, no buts

he'll go swimming, but will not put his head under the water. And he'll do at least one dive-bomb to soak any unfortunate soul who is close enough

he'll read crime mistery books while lounging on a deck chair (bonus point if there's a beer in his hand)

he has the Dad™️ fit: flip-flops, swimming trunks (with palm trees or dolphins or pineapples on them), an open hawaian shirt and the sunglasses and baseball cap combo

RAIN

knows how to surf

idk how or when or where he'd learn, but he DOES

also the sun brings out his bioluminescent spots (the biology probably doesn't check out but idc, I headcanon that he has bioluminescent freckles and the sun brings out freckles so)

(in his human glamour), he doesn't tan a lot (I might be projecting but it's *MY* headcanon and *I* get to choose the bitch that will simply not tan 😤)

if possible, he'll unglamour just to dive as deep as he can go

he's the bastard that brings out the pretty rocks and seashells

might also befriend a fish or two while he's at it

he pulls the "my hair is wet so I have to shake the water off OH NO I WAS STANDING TOO CLOSE AND SOMEONE GOT SPRAYED this surely was not on purpouse I would never 🥺👉🏻👈🏻"

PHANTOM

he'd be a bit scared to go in at first, but ultimately would get coaxed into it

he swims by doggy paddling for the better part of his time at the beach. He knows how to swim, that's just more fun to him

builds sandcastles (and honestly slays at it)

hates the feeling of salt in his hair after it dries, so Cumulus brings a water bottle along so he can rinse it out when he gets out of the sea

he gets HUNGRY after a swim

tries to dive along with Rain, but isn't able to go as deep since he's not a water Ghoul. He will, however, make it his job to point out pretty seashells and demand Rain gets them for him

SWISS

an absolute heathen in the water

he'll creep up behind people (mostly Dew or Phantom) and push their head under the water

he steals a bucket from Phantom and uses it to absolutely SOAK Aurora with the water he scoops from the sea

he tans both in human glamour and in actual Ghoul form

also knows how to surf (dude bro energy fr fr)

he'll be a menace and playfully tease and torment everyone but as soon as someone tells him to stop, he'll be on his best behaviour

reminds everyone to drink water (resorted to throwing a bottle at Rain's head one time cuz he would ignore him and refuse to stop swimming. Rain listened immediately)

DEWDROP

hair in a high bun IMMEDIATELY, will NOT let them get wet

unless Swiss pulls him under, but that usually warrants Swiss getting chased up and down the beach for 15 minutes with a fuming (HAH) Dew behind him

he'd bring a sunshade umbrella to stick in the sand (and then not use it cuz he likes to bask in the sun)

he'd also join Phantom in his sandcastle endeavours by digging a moat around the structure

will swim, but only for a little bit, he'd rather make himself sizzle in the sun

he doesn't really tan, but also doesn't get a sunburn (something something fire Ghoul)

Cumulus still manhandles him into putting on sunscreen (as she does with everyone)

MOUNTAIN

THE SUN MAKES HIS FRECKLES SO PROMINENT AND EVERYONE LOOKS AT HIM LIKE 💖👄💖

usually throws his hair into a haphazard bun and leaves it like that for the entire time

he jumps into the water EXCLUSIVELY by diving headfirst

he doesn't mind the salt on his skin after he dries off, he's used to the grime from the greenhouse and the gardens anyways

he tans, and the freckles on his shoulders/back/collarbone get much more visible as well

his cheeks also get a bit pinker from the sun and everyone calls him adorable because of it

will observe the local flora and fauna, he just can't help himself honestly (and he WILL tell Rain all the sea life fun facts he knows)

drinks only water, but occasionally he'll treat himself to a pre-mixed cocktail if Cumulus brings any (she always does)

CUMULUS

mom friend fr

brings an extra tube of sunscreen (both for the body and the face) just in case someone forgets

manhandles EVERYONE into putting it on

also brings some extra towels in case someone gets theirs wet by accident or forgets it completely

she packs snacks and fruit, as well as drinks (the cooler bag carried by Aether, of course)

she likes swimming, and doesn't mind diving or getting her hair wet (her hair gets really curly and fluffy when it's dry and everyone thinks it's the cutest thing ever)

reads romance novels

she steals the sunshade from Dew, he doesn't need it anyways

helps people to brush out their hair if they need it after a swim

the only person who could convince Rain to get out of the water immediately

CIRRUS

Rich Wine Aunt energy and she shows it

black bikini with a black sheer robe over it

big sunglasses and a big ass hat as well

she doesn't really go swimming a lot, she preferes to tan

reads horror novels on the beach

usually drinks a cosmopolitan cocktail while she lounges, sometimes (although rarely) a beer

she keeps her hair down for the added Dramatic Effect

she keeps everyone (or at least the Ghouls not in the water) cool with her air magic (Dew asked her to stop doing that for him cuz he likes burning in the sun)

will not tolerate being bothered in her peace (she will, actually, but she'll be extremely annoyed about it)

SUNSHINE

much like Dew, she loves to bask in the warmth of the sun

her hair gets hella curly and bouncy from the salt water

she has a whole "after tanning" routine so her skin won't get messed up

also she tans quite a lot

uses a tanning jam

likes to nap under the sunshade with Cumulus

she puts on headphones, plays some music aaaaand she's dozing off

the third surfer of the group (YES I'M HAVING "MALIBU RISING" BRAINROT IT'S SUCH A GOOD SUMMER BOOK)

makes necklaces out of the shells Rain picks up (if she manages to convince him to give some up)

star shaped sunglasses

AURORA

helps Phantom build sandcastles

also brings pretty rocks (and steals shells from Rain when he's not there) to decorate them

she LOVES swimming and diving

"her hair turns bright pink in salt water" ~@ligovskaya (okay Barbie mermaid toy moment 💅🏻✨️)

she does her nails on theme (either to do with the sea, the beach, fish, so on and so forth)

is in the process of learning how to surf and is being taught by Sunshine

she likes to listen to music but like on an ipod shuffle with wired headphones

has heart shaped sunglasses (got them from Sunshine cuz she decided that she's adopting Aurora as a sister, therefore they have to match)

she has the cutest, frilliest pink bathing suit (she's a pink girlie to me)

uses a tanning jam as well, but mostly because it smells nice

okay, this is it for now, I will gladly do other Ghouls or Papas if you guys want, you can pop into my ask box as well :3

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ reblogs are appreciated ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[mikuni14]

I wanted to reply to this post by @italianpersonwithashippersheart and it turned out to be a very long text, so I'm posting it separately 😉

I have a tactic of reading posts on Tumblr, that as soon as I start reading and see that the author is going in a direction that I know I won't like, I immediately stop and move on (ALTHOUGH sometimes the author writes something I don't agree with in such an engaging way that I read it to the end for intellectual pleasure, or it's someone I like with whom I disagree just this time, but I read it anyway because, after all, I like that person for a reason 😚). That's why, fortunately, I usually (<- key word, usually) avoid fandom wars and problematic fandom behavior. I do this because I know how irritating fandom can be sometimes, especially when a it goes to war to defend its blorbo, or ship, or the entire series. And I regret to say that defenders are the most aggressive... Personally, I don't mind fans living on ships, their blorbo, squealing about them and so on. (I mean, I do that!) Unfortunately, as I'm sure you all know, so many fans who live it, LIVE IT and it's not just fun for them, it's the meaning of their lives. This is where the attacks on actors come from, like the recent attack on Nut, a homewrecker 😆 in Pit Babe, having the audacity to be friends with the actor playing Alan AND HE BELONGS TO SOMEONE ELSE!, or, as in the case of DFF, tearing Ta into two parts by his ukes two fandoms lmao. Unfortunately, such behavior poisons a positive fandom experience and even I can see it, even though I try very hard NOT to see it.

It also seems to me that DFF viewers could be divided into two distinct groups: DFF fans and BL fans 😉 I'm a DFF fan and that's why I'm interested in meta, theories and Tan. I like PheeJin for their dynamic, but, I don't really care if they end the series as a couple. Besides, for me DFF is a mystery/thriller/slasher/social commentary series with BL elements, in which I DON'T HAVE to have a happy ending for BL relationships to be happy, I only want Tan to be happy. However, someone for whom DFF is only a BL series could be frustrated because 1) there is no monogamy 😬 2) there is "cheating" 3) the characters behave unpleasantly 4) the characters behave in ambiguous ways and it's often not clear what they think and whom they truly love 5) the characters behaviour becomes unpredictable and non-standard and often problematic 6) the plot keeps getting weird, instructions unclear 7) what about my ship?? *panic*

Regarding the concerns about the ending of the series: in any other series I would have EXACTLY THE SAME worries. But I look at DFF in two categories:

as a slasher

as a story about life, without a moral lesson

This makes me NOT worry about the ending because:

if you look at it as a slasher and my favorite film of this type, i.e. Scream and to some extent also Final Destination, there is no moralizing here, because the victims are often innocent and still die, because this is the rule of this genre: people die in masses

if we do NOT look at it as a story with a moral lesson, we also get rid of the compulsion to judge, like, did they deserve or not to die?

I know that in the DFF fandom we often joke, more or less seriously, that we would like this one or that one to die, or for everyone to die, but this is completely normal behavior when consuming media in which someone gets hurt. In the case of DFF, emotions are high because we naturally stand on the side of someone who is bullied and we see how others, through their actions or omissions, or often making stupid mistakes, saying cruel words in anger, contributed to the great tragedy of the entire family. But what I noticed is that the series does not actually moralize. It emphasizes very clearly that Non is a victim, but he is not entirely innocent and has made many stupid decisions himself, having had other choices, while also showing why he makes such choices. It shows Por as a complete asshole, while showing his environment and expectations towards him, but it does not absolve him. It even shows Keng not as a typical sweaty, brutal pedo, but someone who is genuinely concerned about Non, AT THE SAME TIME showing the issue of his pressure on Non, the money, the grooming.

The series presents dry facts, shows characters from different sides, in different situations, it also shows how events move from point A to B and further along the letters of the alphabet :) all the time discovering new facts that explain more and more, sometimes posing a seemingly already explained situation in a completely new perspective.

Personally, I don't get the impression that the series even WANTS us to moralize in our high glass tower, because the series clearly shows that the innocent, defenseless and vulnerable suffer and no one helps them. That a stupid event can lead to tragedy with the butterfly effect. That sometimes things happen beyond our knowledge, that we are just a pawn in someone else's game and, despite our sincere intentions, we cannot stop the course of events. And that the poor have a hard time and lose entire families and their future, with the first fatality in the series being the only son and the future of the richest family.

Therefore, I am 99% sure that:

we do not know all the facts that can turn all our predictions, judgments and faith in what is happening on the screen 180 degrees

whatever happens to Tan, Phee and Jin, I doubt it will be presented as a punishment/reward for anything

Tan can kill them all and not be the winner, Phee can kill Tan and live with it for the rest of his life as a loser

there is no way for the series to end sensibly AND with "the victory of good over evil" and"justice", because evil has been winning all the time and every kick to Non's face, the death of his parents, Tan's "madness", the death of two young people, the trauma of the others were proof of that, also all the lives lost and their future in which change for good is possible

At the moment, I have nothing to complain about the 10 episodes so far, for me the series is run logically, and any question marks that appear in my head, I am calmly waiting for their answers in the next episodes. THERE IS HOWEVER ONE THING THAT WILL ANGRY ME ABOUT THE ENDING: IF THE SERIES MAKES TAN A CONVERTED SINNER WHO CHOOSES LOVE, PEACE AND FORGIVENESS AT THE LAST MOMENT 🤮 I don't even want to think about it. This is the worst thing that can happen.

Despite everything, I still believe that the series will not do something so stupid at the end, that from a painfully realistic story about life with hints of a thriller and a slasher, it will turn into a fairy tale with a moral lesson, in which good (the established social order) will be rewarded and evil (anarchy represented by Tan) will be punished.

I have my dream ending, but whatever, it's my fantasy 😍 But at least 3 BL series from recent weeks ended exactly NOT the way I wanted, so I'm resigned to the fact that DFF may also fail in this matter 🤡

tl;dr everything will be fine, and if it's not fine, we have a great team to sit together and bitch together 🥳

@italianpersonwithashippersheart I fucking love rant posts 😤😤 I LOVED YOURS 💖💖💖

[ickymichi]

KNOCKOUT!

h. shinsou

warnings: swearing, fighting, vulgar talk, slight toxic behaviour.

things to know: underground fighter au, no quirk au! shinsous kinda ooc ig

word count: 1.5k

note: didn’t know how to end this as per. but was originally gonna be a lyric fic but then i said no. also pls do not be afraid to send on anything about this shinsou cause he’s currently clouding the membrane! reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

underground fighter!shinsou who came home 3 hours after his fight supposedly ended. unfortunately you couldn’t attend this one as you had your own work shift overlapping the fight times. you stayed up until the devils hour waiting for the tall male to trudge through the door, his usual large duffle bag either full of winning money or spare clothes slung over his shoulder.

“where were you?” one the bag hit the floor you spoke first, leaning against the wall while watching him toe off his air force. “what dya’ mean? i was at a match, you know that” he grumbled with a slight roll of his eyes and walked past you to the stuffy kitchen—silently noting another small hole in the wall—. “yeah i know that,” you said with a ‘duh’ tone, “but that ended three hours ago. where have you been in that time.”

shrugging his shoulders he finished off his water and lent on his elbows against the counter. “at the bar with the guys, what? i cant celebrate a win anymore? jesus” you looked at him like he told you he’d just grown an arm and three legs. “so you just didn’t think of inviting me, but every other bitch you kno-” “you were at fuckin’ work, i’m hardly gonna ask when i know the answer.”

again he rolled his eyes to the man above while lifting his hoodie over his frame and into the washing machine leaving him in his white wife beater, finally making his way out to the balcony while pulling a cigarette from the box in his pocket. “you know i finished just after the match was over, you couldn’t of just asked? was it to hard?” hitoshi blew the smoke in your opposite direction and looked towards you. “i cant have one night with my friends without you you attached to my hip all night huh? christ i’ll invite you next time if it annoys you that much woman” “so you think i’m clingy?” you scoffed with your arms crossed over your chest. hitoshi dryly laughed and looked down to the dark streets, people yelling and some coming home from night clubs and bars alike.

“maybe sometimes i think i do (y/n), listen to yourself right now.” your lips fell into a thin line at his comment, making you sigh and push yourself off the railing. “fuck you shinsou” you heard him kiss his teeth and turn to follow you through the narrow halls. “so i’m the bad guy again? all i said was that i didn’t want you hanging off my hip,” hitoshi went to follow you into the bedroom but was met with the door slammed in his face. “(y/n) baby please, c’mon i’m sorry i didn’t mean it in that way okay? just open the door please,” he waited another few seconds before hearing you shuffle then swing the door to show your glossy eyes. “one more chance hitoshi, one more and i swear if you pull shit like this i’m gone”

The bright lights, constant shouting, stuffy crowds and the smell of blood was something you grew accustomed to over the past year and a half. Thankfully, you didn’t have to get lumped into the huge crowd, being shinsous partner you you a seat at the ringside beside his trainers.

Tonight he was up against a rather tough opponent, one who played as dirty as the sport itself. And Hitoshi was feeling the effects of his foul play by the third round. His chest heaving, the hard muscles covered in sweat and a mix between his own and the other guys blood. You could already see that he would have a black eye and bruises along his cheek, aswell as a busted eyebrow.

Even with all his current injuries, it wasn’t like the fighter opposite him wasn’t feeling it either. Anyone could see he was just as tired as Shinsou, a limp in his step showing a particular hit to the stomach had him doubling.

“keep going ‘toshi one more hit and he’s out!” your lilac haired lover perked up slightly at the sound of your encouragement, brining his tape wrapped hands back up from his side, flexing them to feel the hard guard on his knuckles press against his skin. “oh? That your own little supporter?” the tan male taunted at shinsou, making him raise an eyebrow for a split second until he realised what the comment meant.

“yeah? What of it?”

“she looks like she’s taste real nice, bet she does huh? Probably wouldn’t put up much of a fight if I tried to get a taste myself” Hitoshi felt his blood boil at his words. “fuck off and just focus on what’s infront of you jackass” he chuckled darkly at Shinsou’s words and let a lopsided grin take over his beat up face. “ah c’mon sh must be sweet as if your gettin’ all tough. c’mon just once taste of that little kitty ca-”

Shinsou didn’t let him finish his vulgur sentence before he brought his leg up aiming his shin to kick into his unprotected rib cage. The minute his opponent hit the floor Hitoshi was on top him landing punch after punch to his face. “He’s out Shinsou! He’s out!” both his trainers lept up into the ring to pull him off the man who was now out cold. As they held him back Shinsou spat down onto the other fighter before raising a fist in the air.

—

“you did so good out there ‘toshi. ‘m really proud” you leant more into his side seaking the warmth you needed as you walked through the dark city streets. Hitoshi winced slightly as you pressed against a growing bruise, but of course he wasn’t going to tell you to get off him so he kept quiet. “thanks babe. did it all for you of course” he said the end of his sentence in a playful tone while pressing a kiss to your cheek. Knowing that the both of you find those lovey dovey parts of relationships too funny to take serious.

“how ‘bout we go celebrate in the bar, we can go alone or meet up with the others.” You hummed as an indication that you were thinking of an answer to five before letting a teasing grin grace your features. “we can do that, but I kinda wanna take my winnings first.”

He didn’t know exactly what you meant until you were leading him to the darker alley at the side of the path, falling against the cold brick. His eyes trained your face for until you brought your hands to his bruised cheek to pull him down, meeting his split lip halfway.

Hitoshi only pulled away until he felt his lungs beg for air. Once he did he took your smaller face in his large hands, holding you as if you were a fragile piece of fine china. Looking at you as if you were an angel sent from above for his viewing. He felt his chest tighten as you brought your hands to rest over his own, careful of the cuts and bruises along his knuckles.

“fuck, I fucking love you so much baby. Wont let anyone say shit or do anything to you. promise” he whispers as he brought his lips back to your own. Nearly Going against your claims of ‘hating the lovey dovey shit of relationships.”

“You ever think of quitting all this?”

Your voice was just above a whisper. Taking your boyfriend out of a slight trance he was in. “uh yeah sometimes I guess, why?” you shrugged at his question, really because you didn’t want an argument to start up. You know shit would hit the fan if you told him that you hated his job, how you hate that nearly every night you have to clean his beat up face in your cramped bathroom. You know he’d argue that it’s the only way to get money. Your job barely scraping the monthly rent if it wasn’t for his.

“i know what your thinking, and I can’t just quit because you don’t like seeing me with a few cuts and bruises” he laughed slightly at the soft pout now on your lips, letting his hands fall on your hips to rub against the exposed skin. “but sometimes it’s not just cuts and bruises hitoshi. Like 2 weeks you nearly broke two ribs for gods sake.” “yeah, but i didn’t. so I don’t see why your all mad about it. it’s not like I haven’t been taking beatings all my life anyway, what’s some weaklings that are only trying to make quick money.”

You couldn’t really argue with his point, and again, you weren’t going to because you didn’t feel like going to sleep in an empty bed. “isn’t that what your doing?” playfully, he slapped your ass and narrowed his eyes. “hey, i’m not some weakling. You see these guys?” you gave a noise of affirmation as you reached up to feel his bicep. “okay big guy calm it while I kiss your boo boos better.”

[kumoriyami-xiuzhen]

Translation Plans

Well... my break was pretty good. was finally able to download the clean fresh live version of the cxm secret mission that i had my eye on since i ranked up, saw the 1984 wonder woman movie (it was okay and I could write an essay on what didn’t sit well with me as a fan of the comics [im kinda of a comic book purist when it comes to the way characters think and their behaviour] but I really liked Lynda Carter’s cameo).... made a lot of progress on one of the hakumyu piano arrangements i’m working on (have now probably listened to certain parts of that song over a hundred times now), watched a bunch of the original hakuoki musicals in hd.... and I finally got my dad to play Batman: Arkham Asylum. My bro and I have been trying to get that to happen for years lol... especially since it has Conroy and Hamill doing the Batman and Joker voices (the animated series is the best!). super steep learning curve tho since it’s being played on the ps3 and the last console he used was the Nintendo Gamecube.    

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to stock up on translations as much as I would have liked to during this time on account of my hardware seriously acting up... to the point that I needed to send my laptop in for repairs and get a new one. Aside from how unresponsive my keyboard was and how hot it got, the laptop itself had become quite slow... though that might have been because my passport [external storage drive] took a bad fall which made a lot of my files harder to access since it was barely able to handle files being accessed/copied/moved off of it (this is after diagnosing it and repairing it via command prompt chkdsk x: / r), with the latter being what I spent most of my break waiting for as i avoided using my laptop since the majority of my drama rips and game capture videos were on it... To give you an idea of how long this took (and how long it is still taking), I went from being able to transfer my 50mb of files in a few seconds... to sometimes taking more than a day (tho other times i’d be able to get 4gb moved in >24 hours, making the timing super inconsistent. also i don’t have access to a cd drive now so i can’t just re-rip things)... which is why I haven’t been able to work on any videos since my last post (I have more than 1.3TB of stuff to move, so my new laptop isn’t exactly at its best right now and won’t be for a long while since I’m not going to be using a recovery service as waiting out the transfers for everything out will definitely be cheaper... the ballpark estimate I got was being anywhere from $500-2000, which is money that i am not exactly eager to part from just for the sake of saving time)... meaning I also probably won’t get to videos for a while since subtitling requires accurate timing and im not fond of things freezing on me while working on videos... ugh. i still have to do an insane amount of grinding later in warframe once my current batch of files finishes transferring... 

Anyway, below is a list of what I’ve mostly managed to schedule (anything with a “?” is something that I haven’t committed to) and a list of what I’d like to get done this year (can’t make any guarantees... however, im probably going to try and translate some things with souma this year cuz of hakumyu), while the stuff in bold text is on my shortlist of things I intend to prioritize (Saito’s Ginsei no Shou chapters and Shinsengumi Oni-tan are still being worked on though not as actively since they’re a lot longer...). 

Also, aside from December, the month that CNY falls on (February this year) and March (bday) will be the only foreseeable times when I put out less translations tho I’ll probably be playing video catch-up during that time this year since i’m not sure what i’ll be able to get done as i wait for my files to get moved.

oh well. I’m still aiming towards posting stuff on a weekly basis for the rest of the year... here’s hoping that it’s less volatile.... tho i unfortunately have non-existent expectations given what made the news yesterday. just glad i don’t live there.

YAISA!

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

January

Yuugiroku 3 Saito Fall story today!

Chapter 7 of Saito’s route from Ginsei no Shou + 4-koma

Hakuoki Kyoka-Roku Kazama CG Character Perspective [no vid. havent beaten this game and im not sure when i’ll feel like speed running through it]

Hakuo Gakuen Q & A

February 

Stellaworth Hana no Shou After Story - Harada

Chapter 1 of Saito’s route from Ginsei no Shou

Web drama 8

March

Yuugiroku 3 - Short Episode #8 (Kazama/Amagiri/Shiranui) [still need to get video and screenshots] 

Yuugiroku Drama CD Thumb Sized Samurai Track 1-4 (4 is WIP)?

Char monologue?

April

2017 Otomate Hakuoki SSL April Fool’s Day

薄桜鬼 遊戯録 隊士達の大宴会 店铺特典「教えてください山崎さん！」 (completed yesterday)

Yuugiroku 3 - Short Episode #6 “Yukimura the page’s secret”?

char perspective?

Other

Hijikata Biyori (cuz these are short) 

Yuugiroku 3 Short Episodes (these are longer than the ssl cross and daily stories)

Kyoka Roku Conversation in the Rain - Okita/Toudou/Kazama

Kyoka-Roku CG perspectives

2013 Otomate Party Hakuoki drama “Ideal place for a disagreement”

Saito Ginsei no Shou Chapters

Shinsengumi Oni-tan

Stellaworth Hana no Shou After Stories - Souji, Heisuke (THIS YEAR FOR SURE DAMMIT!)

2011 Hakuoki Reimeiroku Otomate Party drama

Stellaworth Nightshade Kuroyuki CD

薄桜鬼 遊戯録弐 祭囃子と隊士達 A店特典「あなた好みの想いの形」

薄桜鬼 真改 ~風華大全~ 特典「稽古の痛み」

2016 Otomate Party Code:Realize drama* (this is almost 30 min so i will probably translate less that month if i get to it)

2019 ????????????? Halloween SS?*

????????????? Stellaworth Vocal CD (8 tracks)*

*have to check these 3 since I don’t actively follow these fandoms/tags tho im pretty sure no one has translated anything from the fandom for the last 2 items.

also, re:patreon goal - i am currently not able to access the files for the drama i am looking to get a translation commissioned for as it is in the process of being moved off of my damaged passport. 29gb  remains as part of that transfer, which is the result of me trying to move all 865 files from where i keep the majority of the hakuoki dramas i’ve saved all at once... ended up doing that because every time I access that hard drive, each time i open up a folder, and every time I highlight a file to move, the file explorer goes “not responding” for an uncertain amount of time, and have instead opted in doing something that would hopefully reduce the likelihood of something crashing.

[billyhardgrove]

“ i’m not going “ please xx.

Warning: mild smut, physical abuse, homophobic slurs

“Don’t stop,” You moaned out softly against Billy’s lips, the feeling of his hips grinding against yours causing the fire within your stomach to double in size and grow wild. Your arms were wrapped around his bare shoulders while his were rested on either side of you on the bed below. The pair of you were down to your underwear, the steamy makeout session not taking long to turn into a full-on hook up. Your clothes were scattered a mess and long-forgotten on the floor while the two of you made chaos on Billy’s sheets.

His lips were hungry against yours, his head tilting to the side to deepen the kiss even more, if that were possible, while he continued to press himself against your clothed centre, the friction absolutely delicious for the both of you. You felt one of his hands reach up to unhook your bra, it getting lost somewhere on the ground along with the rest of your clothes while his hand started to massage your breast and you stifled your moans, weary of Max being in the house. Of course it was completely irresponsible for the two of you to be hooking up while Billy’s thirteen year old sister was still in the house, but Billy was incredibly horny for you, and his charm and confidence didn’t take long to convince you into giving in to him. The boy was irresistible.

You were in heaven, the two of you completely caught up in one another and unaware of your surroundings. That was until a sound echoed through the walls that caused Billy to still, to halt just for a second before he hurriedly pulled himself away from you, no explanation given to you.

Climbing off of the bed, Billy began to search for his clothes that were hidden somewhere in the mess of his room and when he noticed you weren’t doing the same it was then that he spoke. “You have to go.” He growled, his tone snappy though he didn’t mean for it to be directed to you.

“What? Why?” You frowned, pulling his bed sheet over your body; it suddenly felt inappropriate and uncomfortable for you to just be laying practically naked on his bed while Billy was clearly distressed over something.

“Because I said so.” Billy spat, picking up your skirt and top before chucking them at you. “My dad’s just got back from work and you know he doesn’t allow me to have girls over so if he found us dry humping on my bed he would have my fucking throat. You have to leave.”

Billy hated that stupid rule one of the most out of all the rules Neil had set for him and perhaps that’s why he never followed it, well at least without getting caught. Neil thought that Billy having girls over was disrespectful and uncomfortable for Susan and especially Max, and that they shouldn’t be exposed to that kind of behaviour in their own home. But Billy had needs, and since when did he follow rules?

“Why don’t you just tell him we’re working on a school project?” You suggested, pulling your top over your head before moving onto your skirt.

“Because he would still kill me.” He answered, pulling his jeans up over his legs. “No girls, no exceptions. That’s the rule.”

“Billy, I’m not going to just hop out of your bedroom window to avoid your dad.” You told him. He was acting so weird and it was over nothing. You weren’t going to escape through his window like you were fifteen. You just didn’t understand what the big deal was.

“Y/N, please.” Billy begged, his eyes pleading with you to just listen this once. Part of you began to realise just how serious this must be, for Billy didn’t beg.

And then the dreaded knock came against his door followed by an authoritative stern voice.

“Billy, open the door.”

The colour seemed to drain from Billy’s face as he looked at you with wide and, dare you say, scared eyes.

“Get into the closet.” He whispered to you, beginning to push you in the direction.

“Billy I-“ You tried.

“Now, Y/N!” He urged quietly but still firmly.

The urgency in his voice was enough to do as he said without questioning him, and you made your way into his closet before Billy shut the door behind you. You couldn’t see but you could still hear what was beyond that door, and the scene to follow was not what you had anticipated.

“I said, open the door.” Neil’s voice came again, except this time it was as though he sang it, tauntingly, mockingly and unfortunately Billy was used to it. It was one of the many, many ways his father belittled him.

Billy took a second to straighten his back and square his shoulders, ready for whatever Neil would throw his way. Making his way over to the door, he finally pulled it open to reveal the devil.

“What?” Billy grumbled, not hiding the annoyance he felt towards even the smallest of interactions with his father. But Neil remained quiet, something out of character for the man, but then Billy noticed the way his eyes were trained on him. More specifically, on his messy hair, something incredibly out of character for him, on his slightly swollen lips and on the purpling hickies that decorated his tanned skin, all caused by you.

It was obvious to Neil what his son had been up to. And the idea that his son had disobeyed him caused flames to burn through his eyes and steam to fume from his ears.

And the way that his father’s mouth curled into a stiff upper lip was all Billy needed to see to know that he was fucked.

Stepping towards his son, Neil rose his eyebrows in challenge. “You have a girl in here.”

It was a statement, not a question. Billy knew better than to respond. But he did anyway.

“No, I don’t.” He backed away from his father, trying to remain strong and confident but he knew it was pointless.

“You have a girl in here when I strictly told you no girls.” Neil continued, ignoring his son before stopping in the centre of the room as he stared at the boy in front of him. “Where is she, huh? Where is the slut?” He scoffed, taking another step forward, a step closer to the closet and Billy grew paranoid that his dad already knew that you were in there.

“There’s no one here. I didn’t have anyone over.” Billy tried again and he just begged to God, just this once, that his father would give him a little mercy and leave things be. But of course, Billy didn’t believe in God.

“Ok so if there is no girl, then what is this?” Neil asked, before bending down and picking up a red laced bra, the same one that you had had on mere moments before. “Don’t tell me it’s yours, Billy? Jesus, I’ve been blessed with not only a faggot of a son but a cross-dresser too.” He mumbled and Billy bit his tongue, his own rage starting to burn through his blood.

Billy supposed it was better to admit that he had disobeyed his father than let the man have more inaccurate labels to stick to him.

“She’s not here. She left before you got here.” He murmured, his voice strong as though suddenly admitting he was hooking up with a girl would make him appear more of a man to his father. How naïve.

“Ah, so there was a girl in here.” Neil sneered. Looking at the bra once more, he scoffed. “I guess that’s a little relieving. But even so, you still disobeyed me Billy. And you know what happens when you disobey me.”

“Dad, I-“

The cracking of skin crashing against skin thundered against the walls, and you found yourself flinching as you realised what had happened.

“Why don’t you just fucking listen?” Neil seethed, poison slicing his words. He had Billy pressed against his bedroom wall, as his son’s cheek glared red. Billy was clenching his jaw, sensibly choosing to be quiet for he knew another noise would make this a lot worse.

Then another atrocious sound was heard, a thud-like sound, followed by a low groan from Billy as he doubled over in pain, winded and hurt. Watching him splutter for breath, Neil reached for his shoulders as Billy was pushed back against the wall once more. His eyes were screwed shut as though to mask the pain but also to prevent himself from crying in front of his dad. “Why can’t you behave for once, huh? Why can’t you just be a son I’d actually be fucking proud of?” Billy said nothing, still refusing to open his eyes as he tried to find his breath. This didn’t seem to bode well with Neil, as his lips curled in and a disapproving sigh left him. “Look at me.”

His face was close to Billy’s, making it all the more intimidating and threatening and personal. Not allowing him to ask again, not giving him another reason to hurt him even more, Billy opened his eyes and glared into the devil’s own.

“If I find out that you’ve had a girl in here again, then you better find a new fucking place to live, do you hear me?” Neil spat, his eyes not blinking once as he awaited Billy’s response.

“Yes, sir.” Billy managed to croak out, his torso still burning in pain. That seemed to satisfy Neil as he let go of his son, causing him to fall to the ground against the wall in agony. Then turning on his heel, Neil’s heavy footsteps shook the wooden floors before he finally left Billy’s room, the door rattling off its hinges when it was slammed shut.

You waited a long moment before you made any motion to get out of the closet, the idea of what you had just witnessed not fully setting in yet. Your heart ached for the boy, and you found yourself in utter shock, having been completely ignorant to the situation. You had no idea that Billy’s home life was the way it was.

Finally finding the courage, to part with the closeted safe haven, Billy didn’t even glance at you as you stepped out. His eyes were scrunched shut once more, a couple of tear tracks tainting his red cheek as he tried to shallow out the suffering he was in, his chest rising and falling irregularly.

But when he heard you make the motion of taking a step towards him, he snapped with the little effort he could muster. “Get out.”

Halting in your spot, another part of you ached at Billy’s refusal to accept your comfort, your solace.

“Billy-“ You tried, worried that him being alone right now was the last thing he should be.

“I said, get out, Y/N!”

Nodding your head solemnly, you didn’t challenge him again before you quickly climbed through his bedroom window, leaving the boy covered in cuts and bruises to suffer in isolation.

-

Lemme know what you thought!

[literallyusuk]

Song of the Sea (USUK) Chapter 1

Summary: An unmarked Clubs Queen with a secret. A Spades King that can't help falling in love. A Clubs King desperate to hold onto what is his. A Spades Prince blinded by jealousy.

Oh, and that secret? Big enough to send the two Kingdoms plunging into war if it were to come out.

Notes: Alternate title: Smells Fishy.

Hello hello! Yet another new story that I don't have fully written out yet, but by golly I love this one so much. The beginning chapters are fleshed out and edited from an rp I did with my friend @aziraho. ^0^ I hope you'll enjoy this one! Please let me know what you think!

Warnings: There’s one curse word in it for now. Will get steamy later tho.

~~~

The Clubs castle had, for a day, become something more vibrant and beautiful than ever before. The cold King of the North had never held celebrations before – no birthdays, no weddings, no holidays or anniversaries – so it was a shock to every royal to receive an invitation, and even more so when they saw the event; the birthday of the Queen of Clubs.

People only knew the Queen’s name, Arthur Kirkland, and that he was a fair man with green eyes. Arthur never travelled outside of Clubs- or even outside of the castle, really. The Queen of Clubs was not even the true Queen, bearing no mark on his body, but since there hadn’t been a Chosen Queen for over a century, no one questioned the arrangement.

It seemed King Ivan had been lucky enough to marry for love…though the other royals couldn’t even remember receiving a wedding announcement.

Clubs Keep glittered in the evening, for once a warm gold instead of the cold blue of ice under the moonlight. The very air seemed warmer as well, though many of the guests still had cloaks and capelets draped over their shoulders. The party was in full swing in the Grand Ballroom, with tables of food and drink lining the walls and a band in the corner and a dance floor taking up the centre of the space. Laughter drifted to the ceiling, perhaps a bit muted for a celebration, but still there.

The Queen of Clubs inclined his head in thanks at yet another murmured congratulations and moved further along the room. He was dressed from head to toe in Clubs green and gold. His trousers and jacket were a deep, hunger green, while his gold-trimmed cloak was a more vibrant hue. Messy blond hair stuck out from underneath a heavy crown, and his gait was as smooth as the rolling waves.

He ignored the false King of Spades’ attempts to get his attention, his eyes rather trained on the similarly dressed figure exiting the room into the hallway. Curiosity piqued, he followed. He made no sound as he left, and couldn’t help rolling his eyes at what he eventually found.

The Spadian had stopped next to a mirror and was, for lack of a better word, peacocking in front of it. Smiling and smirking to himself, running a hand down the side of his long dark blue and silver coat to smooth it down and momentarily allowing the rapier at his hip to be visible.

“The food had better be good,” he muttered, “for why else would I entertain myself with this miserable place? Even the inside seems frozen over.”

Arthur had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. “That’s not a very kingly thing to say, is it?” he asked quietly, stepping closer. Of course he knew this man was the true King of Spades, and it wasn’t hard to see exactly what kind of person this King was; pompous, full of himself, a spoilt brat of a royal. “Especially out in the open, where anyone could hear.”

Those blue eyes locked onto Arthur’s figure through the mirror. The King of Spades ran his fingers through his low ponytail nonchalantly and didn’t bother turning around. “Perhaps it isn’t,” he replied, voice playful and recognizing no guilt. “A good King spins pleasant lies, but a great King speaks the truth. At least, that’s what my father always told me.”

“Hmm.” Arthur neither sounded nor looked impressed.

The other man finally turned to face him, offering a polite smile. “He also told me not many royals would agree with that.” The modest grin spread, revealing white teeth that contrasted with his tanned skin. “The Kingdom of Spades wishes you a happy birthday, even though it seems that you’re not enjoying too much of it. It’s a pleasure, Queen Arthur. Ivan has weaved many tales about you, and you are even lovelier than he gave you credit for.” He reached his hand out to the Queen, palm upward, was the custom.

For a moment, it seemed as though Arthur would refuse the King’s gesture and leave the hand hanging there, but eventually he reached out and delicately placed his hand atop the other man’s. This was definitely a child of a ruler, but Arthur knew he had to be at least polite, or he’d get it from Ivan later. That’s the last thing I need, to top this whole farce off, he thought bitterly, but forced a smile onto his face. “Thank you for your wishes,” he replied, coolly if not a little coldly.

The Spadian King’s touch was surprisingly gentle on the Queen’s hand as he brought it up to his lips and pressed a kiss to the gloved back. He spoke a formality in Old Spadian before releasing the hand, pocketing his own deep into his coat. The bow had released a few strands of hair from his ponytail that now fell into his face- which would have made him look aloof if not for the smile.

Holding himself perfectly still, Arthur didn’t even look like he was breathing until he had been released.

The King kept on grinning. “Has dear King Ivan stepped on your feet one too many times to deserve to be left alone on the dance floor? He did have that habit, at least back when we were young.”

“I thank you for your concern, but I merely wished to step outside for a moment for some air. You need not worry yourself with Ivan’s dancing.” Despite himself, Arthur’s smile twisted into a smirk. “Though knowing your kind, I suppose if I’d given you the opportunity, you would have started waxing on about how great of a dancer you are?”

“I learned my dances from the best,” the King replied, leaning his shoulder against the ice. “It seems I’ve been caught before my escape plan could come to fruition, so I could prove my prowess to you on the dance floor if you’d like, my Queen.”

He was talking, of course, about the false King of Spades that was weaving through the crowd back in the ballroom.

Arthur resisted the urge to snort. Yeah, this King was exactly what he’d expected. “Escape plan, hmm? And are you sure it’s wise to be telling me about that?” he asked, one of his eyebrows arching. “I could very well be offended that you find a party in my honour so dull. It would be the simplest thing to tell my…loving King about the slight you’ve given us.” He completely ignored the offer to dance.

“Oh, that old boy would just laugh it off, don’t I know him,” the other man said, shrugging away the notion that anything bad might have come from his unorthodox behaviour. He glanced to Arthur. “If you want, I could take you with me.”

Arthur did let out a laugh at that. “Stealing away the Queen? You are bold, my dear King of Spades. I can almost appreciate that.” He half-turned, smirking at the other royal and staring at him from half-lidded eyes. He definitely didn’t miss how the Spades King appeared dumbstruck for a moment. “Unfortunately, I will have to decline. I actually have duties to attend to, so if you’ll excuse me…” He started walking back towards the ballroom, though paused after just a few steps. “Pity you won’t be sticking around. Perhaps I would have taken you up on that dance later on. Though, this might be for the best. I’m sure you wouldn’t have been able to keep up with me anyway,” he murmured, his smirk widening as he left the bait hanging there in front of the King’s open mouth and continued forward.

Confident that he’d be seeing more of the actual Spades King later on, Arthur weaved easily through the crowd. He ignored both servants and nobility, and took extra care to avoid the King of Diamonds. King Francis was an aggressive flirt with an abrasive personality that reminded Arthur too much of him- the cause of all of Arthur’s troubles. And Arthur really didn’t want to cause a huge scene by punching another royal. Out of the corner of his eye he once again saw the false Spades King trying to get his attention, and was happy to ignore that man too. Though the thought of going up to the imposter did cross his mind briefly, he was just as quick to brush it away. There was no point, really. He’d met the real one already, for all that was worth.

He made a beeline for the refreshment tables instead, and especially the lone platter of salty mackerel and tuna. There were only a few pieces left, to his annoyance, and he was quick to snap them all up. Politeness be damned, saltwater fish were a delicacy. Ivan didn’t often allow them into the castle. Munching away on the last of the tuna, he allowed a neutral, almost content expression to settle over his face.

“Arthur,” a low voice murmured to him a few minutes later.

Arthur turned to meet Ivan’s violet eyes. His back stiffened. “Ivan.”

“Where were you? You vanished.” The Clubs King’s mouth stretched down into a soft pout.

“I didn’t go outside,” Arthur immediately snapped, though he kept his voice low enough that no one else would notice. “The air in here grew stifling.”

“It always gets stifling when you’re pressed into the corners. The dance floor looks like it has more room.” Ivan gave him a small, hopeful smile. “Dance with me, my Queen?”

The request was a simple one. Such a simple one, phrased so innocently, but Arthur knew better, and he couldn’t dare refuse. Instead, he returned a bland smile to the taller man. “Of course, my King. It would be my absolute pleasure.”

Ivan’s smile faded somewhat, though he still took hold of Arthur’s elbow and led him to the dance floor. Some of the murmuring voices hushed as royalty and nobility alike turned to watch the host King and Queen dance. The pair moved well together, if a bit rigidly. Arthur made no excess movements, no effort to dance with grace. He moved mechanically, like an automaton, and a few times it almost seemed like Ivan had to pull and tug him along. The King of Clubs watched him carefully as they spun and twirled.

“Arthur, please,” he whispered when the music shifted to a second song and nothing changed. He leaned in for a kiss.

At the last second, Arthur turned his face so Ivan’s lips pressed against his cheek. “You asked me to dance. I’m dancing.”

His mouth opened, but then Ivan just sighed and pouted again.

Arthur ignored him. His green eyes swept the crowd to where everyone not dancing was looking at them and seemed to be talking amongst themselves. He spotted the two Kings of Spades next to each other, the crown back on the rightful man’s head. Briefly, he wondered what a dance with the other King might look like. Would it be more or less of a farce than this? He waved the thoughts away and focused his gaze on the clasp of Ivan’s cloak as he waited for it to be over.

It seemed as if the man had heard his thoughts, because at the next quick break the musicians used to tune their instruments, there was a touch on his arm. Arthur flinched, then turned to meet the eyes of the King of Spades.

“I believe you owe me a challenge, fair Queen,” the blond man said, ignoring Ivan and the murmuring crowd around them.

Arthur’s expression didn’t betray any emotion. “My, how eager you are to lose,” he murmured. “It hasn’t even been an hour.” Then, seeming to remember himself, he glanced to Ivan. “May I?”

Glancing between the two of them, Ivan eventually nodded. His grip tightened on Arthur’s body. “We will dance more later?”

“…Of course.” Arthur smiled at him and then disentangled himself, stepping closer to the other King. “Very well, King Alfred. Let us see where those dances from the best left you.” He didn’t spare Ivan a glance as the Clubs King retreated to the side of the ballroom.

Alfred accepted Arthur’s hand and confidently led him to the centre of the dance floor. “Say,” he said, before the music started. “I couldn’t help but to notice the tension between you and your King. You are…alright, are you not?”

Arthur couldn’t help the small amount of warmth that coiled in his stomach at Alfred’s question. It was…sweet, even though it was sad that he had to ask it in the first place. “I’m fine,” he replied. “There is nothing you need to concern yourself with. I am unhurt, and this is my home.” He gave Alfred a polite, distant smile.

“That’s all I needed to hear,” Alfred told him.

The music swelled and the Spadian King immediately took a strong lead in their dance. He moulded his steps to the music rather than a rigid pattern, and Arthur was so surprised that for a moment it was all he could do was follow. His body, lax with shock, was whirled and moved by Alfred’s will alone. Alfred wasn’t too forceful, though, and once Arthur had recovered he was able to push back against him. He spun faster and stepped out further, forcing Alfred to chase after him a little bit.

He didn’t stop there, stepping into Alfred’s personal space to force him in the direction that he wanted to go- almost as if he was trying to take the lead occasionally. To his surprise Alfred was game for it, following for a little while before tugging the lead back. A spin, followed by a dip, and Alfred was leaning over Arthur, smiling down at him warmly.

Arthur very pointedly tried to ignore the way his heart leapt, both at the dip and the sight of Alfred’s bright smile above him. His eyes slid to the side, and he allowed Alfred a few beats of control again while he composed himself. Snap out of it, Arthur. Don’t you dare get any foolish ideas. He rebalanced himself and seized the lead, spinning Alfred out even further than before, then reeling him back in until they all but crashed into each other. He barely gave Alfred time to breathe before they were moving again, whirling around the perimeter of the dance floor.

“You’re not doing as badly as I feared you would, I’ll admit,” he said, smirking up at the King. “But this dancing is still nothing special.” The dancing he really loved, really poured his heart and soul into, he hadn’t been able to do in what felt like eons. It was slowly fading from his memory. Arthur roughly dipped the taller man to distract himself, his green eyes gleaming in the light of the chandeliers.

“Oh, well thank you, Your Majesty,” Alfred replied, his voice teasing, before a ‘whoa’ escaped his lips at the dip. He laughed loudly as he came back up, and smiled even louder. They moved away from one another, hands still linked, and when they came back together Alfred used the opportunity to take back the dance, pulling the Queen a little bit closer than when they had started and adjusting his pace to the slower melody that now played. “My offer to steal you away still stands, Queen Arthur. There are many dances out there to be danced, for fun, not for a good show for a bunch of stuck-up nobles who see us as walking bags of gold.”

At this, however, Arthur’s energy diminished somewhat, and the line of his shoulders grew rigid. Alfred was foolish, true, and childish, and bright and warm, but he was also dangerous. Unquestionably dangerous. The Clubs Queen had forgotten himself, his place. Arthur’s relief was palpable as the music faded, and he stopped his dancing when they were off to the side.

“And how do you know,” he asked quietly, removing himself from Alfred’s hold, “that I haven’t been stolen already?” For the first time in his life, he was glad to see Ivan waving him over. “It seems I’m being summoned. Thank you for the dance, now please excuse me.”

Inclining his head to Alfred, he then spun around on his heel and strode to his King’s side. This time when Ivan’s arm snaked around Arthur’s shoulders, his face didn’t betray any expression at all.

“I wish you’d dance like that with me,” Ivan mused.

Arthur didn’t respond, and luckily Ivan didn’t press him to. Instead, they did another round of the room, Ivan chatting with various nobility and Arthur trying not to look too bored. The Jack of Hearts gave him a sympathetic glance when they passed, though Arthur’s returning look was quite chilly. He didn’t need sympathy. He didn’t need pity. Anger and hatred fuelled him, would keep him going until the time was right.

“Alfred!” Ivan called, jolting Arthur out of his thoughts. “Matthew! I haven’t properly introduced my Queen to you- well, at least to one of you.” He glanced curiously to Alfred, and his grip on Arthur was almost possessive.

Turning his attention to Matthew, Arthur gave a stiff bow. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Your Majesty,” Matthew replied, offering a bow in return.

Alfred stuck his hands into the pockets of his cloak and gave Ivan a questioning look. “King Ivan, I’m perplexed that you didn’t invite us to the wedding! Surely a loving couple like yourselves must have had a grand celebration!”

Sighing softly, Matthew elbowed his brother in the ribs. “What he meant to say,” he said with an apologetic smile, “was that we regret missing such an occasion and wish we could have given our congratulations to the couple at the proper time.”

Ivan shifted on his feet. “Yes, well-”

“There was no wedding,” Arthur said shortly. “We aren’t married.”

“Arthur…” Ivan peered mournfully down at his Queen, and his brows furrowed even more when he was ignored.

“There are also no plans for marriage in the future.” Arthur’s voice was low and firm. “I am Queen in name, and Ivan is my King, but marriage between us is inconceivable.”

The two Spadians glanced between each other for a long while. “Well, I hope your rule is fruitful despite this,” Matthew finally said after a moment.

“Thank you. Ivan isn’t as much of an idiot as his predecessors, so I’m sure that under his rule Clubs will begin to return more to its former glory,” Arthur said sweetly, glancing up at Ivan. “Isn’t that right, love?” His smile was razor sharp.

Ivan looked uncomfortable for a moment, before his eyes hardened. “Where is your coat, Arthur?”

Arthur’s expression darkened. The power play between them was multi-layered and nuanced, but the Queen knew when he he’d stepped out of bounds. “I’m afraid I misplaced it, my King,” he gritted out. “I apologize.” Shifting his attention to Matthew and Alfred, he bowed to them again. His eyes lingered on the Spades King’s features for a touch longer than necessary. “Some of the nobles are looking quite ignored. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go…entertain them.”

He all but wrenched his arm from Ivan’s grip and stalked away, back towards the food tables. There was nothing left that interested him, but if he was at least nibbling on something, most of the nobility would leave him alone. Most.

“Queen Arthur,” someone said.

Arthur’s mood further darkened when he turned around and spotted one of the older Clubs Lords behind him. “Can I help you?”

The man smiled thinly. “I was hoping I would be able to snag a dance with the False Queen before the night was over.”

“Don’t call me that, and you just might,” Arthur replied stiffly.

“Of course, of course, Your Majesty.” The Lord reached out and snatched up Arthur’s hands, dragging him to the dance floor. “You’ll forgive me, I hope, if I’m a bit rusty. It’s been so long since I’ve last danced, and even longer since my last one with you.”

“Not long enough,” Arthur muttered.

“Hmm?”

“I said, it’s been long enough, since Clubs had something to celebrate.”

“Indeed.” The Lord yanked Arthur more tightly against himself. “Don’t you get bored here?”

Arthur eyed the man sharply. “What’s your point?”

“You seem…agitated. Frustrated.”

“I wonder why.” The Queen bit back a growl as he was pulled even closer to the older man’s body.

“The Blizzard Council still isn’t sure what involvement you might have had in King Petr’s death.”

One of Arthur’s eyebrows arched. “Are you accusing your Queen without proof?”

“You bear no mark. You are not Clubs’ true Queen.”

“And yet I’ve been crowned. I suggest you don’t overstep your boundaries, Lord Morozov.”

The Lord gave a cruel smile. “And I suggest you don’t forget what you are, pet.”

Arthur wrenched himself free. “Don’t you dare call me that,” he spat, no longer able to keep his expression neutral.

Nearly everyone in the room turned to look at them. Disgusted but also embarrassed at the scene, he whirled away and stalked towards the doors.

“Arthur!” Ivan called, hurrying to intercept him and leaving a confused Alfred and Matthew in his wake.

Arthur shot him a glare cold enough to stop the King in his tracks before continuing out of the room. Though part of him was curious as to Alfred’s exact expression, he didn’t allow himself to look. He didn’t allow himself to hope.

His hands clenched tightly at his sides when he finally managed to escape the ballroom. ‘This will be a good opportunity,’ the Blizzard Council had promised. Arthur snorted. Good opportunity for what? Parading him around? Pushing him until he snapped and did something to embarrass Clubs? There was little love lost between the Council and the Queen. They’d always disliked the fact Arthur had been crowned, and he’d always hated them by virtue of their humanity. Ivan’s fondness of him protected Arthur from them, but also kept him trapped in Clubs.

He growled and slammed the door to the royal baths shut behind him. One of the pools was soon filled with lukewarm water and Arthur fell back into it, clothes and all. Only beneath the water was he able to relax a little bit, and time slipped away from him as he soaked. The water was freezing by the time he finally rose out of it. He stripped from the damp clothes, leaving them in a sopping pile by the poolside, and put on a thin white nightgown after rubbing a towel through his hair.

It wasn’t long after that he stalked through the gardens, his sandy hair gleaming almost silver under the light of the full moon. His feet were bare as he stole along the snow-dusted path. The weather had been a touch milder than usual so there was only about an inch of snow on the ground, but it was still enough for him to leave a trail of footprints. The thin fabric of the nightgown shivered and bowed against the wind, but Arthur still walked confidently towards the far corner of the castle grounds.

The old Astronomer’s Tower speared the sky near the joining of the northern and eastern walls. It was also known as the Old Tower and the North Tower; lately, ‘Queen’s Tower’ and ‘Monster’s Tower’ had been added to the list of names. No one stopped Arthur along the way, and there was no one inside the tower to meet him. He’d claimed it as his own, and everyone within the castle walls knew it. The Queen climbed the one hundred and fifty steps alone, lit a few candles in the empty room at the top, and then stepped out onto the balcony to commence his nightly vigil.

“You’ll freeze to your death here yet,” a voice murmured sometime later, warm hands draping a heavy cloak over his shoulders.

Stiffening at the touch, Arthur’s eyes jerked from the far horizon to focus on Alfred’s face. When he recognized the Spadian King he relaxed a little bit, though his expression was still wary as he assessed the situation. His arms moved up, fingers trailing through the fur trimmings. Goosebumps rippled across his skin from the shift in temperature.

“Alfred. What are you doing here? This is yours, you should wear it. You’re not as used to the cold as I am.” He started shrugging the cloak off.

“Hey, don’t you worry about me,” Alfred said, the corners of his lips quirking up. “I basically grew up on the seas and docks. These little inland breezes have nothing on a good ol’ storm out on the open sea.” He reached out, only to pull the cloak tighter around Arthur’s shoulders.

Despite himself, Arthur managed a small smirk. “Oh trust me, I know how rough the seas can get.” Even if he hadn’t felt it in ages, and most certainly had a different perspective. He turned his head to the side, eyes seeking out the horizon once more, though he didn’t step away from Alfred’s body.

“I wanted to check on you, too,” Alfred continued. “I uh- Ivan seemed pretty upset, heh, at me too when I told him he should maybe lay off the awkward attempts at husband emulation. I know he can be a bit rash, so I dunno. I guess I got a bit worried when I saw you marching through snow barefoot.”

Arthur’s hands fisted in the fabric of the cloak. “Ivan seemed upset, did he?” he spat, anger simmering within his expression. “Did Ivan send you here as well? Are you his spy now? If so, then kindly fuck off. I neither need nor want your forced concern.”

“I am nobody’s spy, Queen Arthur. I did not have to leave my nice and warm chambers to trudge through snow and walk up stairs to check on you, and I certainly wouldn’t do all of this if Ivan had asked me to. I am half-blind, my feet are soaked from the snow, and my hair has never seen a worse day- yet I’m still here, offering you my concern.” Alfred ran a hand through his tangled hair. “By the Mage, you are difficult. If you don’t want me here, just say so and I’ll go back between my silken sheets and forget I scaled half the castle and most of the courtyard by hearing because – imagine – I was worried about you.”

Arthur couldn’t help it; he burst into laughter. The merriment shook his frame and echoed in the still air. After a moment, he lifted part of the cloak to cover his mouth and try to stifle it. Really, how much more spoilt could someone get? Immediately moaning about silken sheets and damp shoes and a bad hair day. Oh, that had certainly made Arthur’s night. Slowly, his laughs faded away and he took a few deep breaths. His eyes slid over to meet Alfred’s annoyed gaze, then focused on the banister of the balcony.

The Queen released the cloak and placed his hands instead into the inch or so of snow gathered there. “Why were you worried?” he asked softly. “I am not your Queen, so why do you care? This has nothing to do with you.”

“Should I not care for my brother because he is not my Queen? Should I not care for my people because they aren’t royalty? Should I turn a deaf ear to the calls of the occupied Kingdoms because they are not on my land? You are not my Queen, but neither are you Ivan’s, and if not him, then there must be someone else to worry about you. Being forgotten is a fate worse than many other.”

Arthur’s fingertips scraped against the stone of the banister. He ignored the burning pain that shot up his forearms. “I am Ivan’s Queen. For better or worse, I am the current Queen of Clubs, so don’t you dare say otherwise. As to being forgotten, well. I think I would prefer that path to the one I’ve been forced to follow.”

“For worse, considering your King is courting a Prince of Spades,” Alfred said, his voice seeping with bitterness. He reached out a moment later, laying his hand softly on Arthur’s. “What’s going on in this castle? It feels like everyone is miserable here.”

The touch startled Arthur out of his thoughts. He shook away questions like It was a good thing, right? and Would he be replaced if Ivan and Matthew took things further? and Would he lose the only bargaining chip he had? and had to avert his gaze. If he looked into those bright blue eyes for too long he might spill everything, and then it really would be the end.

“Everyone is miserable here,” he managed to say with a somewhat steady voice. “After all, we live in eternal winter.” By that point his feet and hands had gone numb from the cold, and his lips were taking on a blue tint.

“Your people make the best of it. Those who remain, anyway,” Arthur said, before gently taking Arthur’s hand off the cold stone and into his own, warm fingers trying to rub some heat back into the frozen skin. “We should get you inside,” he murmured. “The guests are all gone by now and the King is busy in his study. You should be able to relax in the warmth.”

But Arthur shook his head. “No, I’d like to stay here a bit longer.” He shivered at the contact between them, watching how Alfred’s fingers moved against his skin. “I can never relax in there. This is the only place I feel…” Free. “You don’t have to stay with me. If you wish to go back to your comforts, then go ahead.”

“Very well. I’ll stay too, in that case.” The young King took the Queen’s other hand as well and moved closer to him, offering body heat that seemed to outlast any cold weather that Clubs could throw at him. He remained silent after that, watching the stars as his fingers kneaded Arthur’s delicate skin, trying to keep it from completely freezing.

Arthur lifted his eyes to Alfred’s face then, taking in the planes and shadows of his features under the light of the night sky. “We can at least share the cloak, can we not?” He slipped his hands from Alfred’s and slung the heavy cloth around the taller man’s shoulders as well, then slowly stepped even closer to him until they were nearly flush together. Afterward, he ducked back under the edge of it, and his hands automatically reached for Alfred’s again. “Ah.” He froze before he could touch him, though. “Is this alright?”

Though Alfred had tensed at the closeness, and momentary shock and surprised flitted across his face, he was soon smiling. He positioned Arthur so they could both hide in the cover of the warm fabric. His smile widened and became more encouraging when he saw Arthur’s hesitation, and he closed the distance between their hands himself.

“Quite. Let’s try to keep you warm, hm?” he murmured, thumbs now trailing more meandering patterns into that pale skin, careful and appreciative as if bent on learning all there was to Arthur’s hands.

Warmth coiled in Arthur’s belly the moment his hands were cradled within Alfred’s again. It felt foreign, but not unwelcome. For a while, he watched their joined hands, but before long his gaze was pulled towards the mountains. “If I look long and hard enough,” he confessed, his voice barely audible, “it sometimes feels as though I’m able to see the ocean again from here.”

Alfred followed Arthur’s eyes to the mountains, beyond which the Devil’s Sea lay, frozen over and desolate of life. “Did you live by the sea before?” he asked.

“Yes, you could say I did.”

“It’s gorgeous this time of year, isn’t it?”

“I…think I remember it being so. I haven’t seen it in so long I confess it’s fading from my memory.”

Alfred hummed. “The fish swim so close to the surface that the water looks as if it were made of pure silver, and the spring storms clean away any filth. It smells fresh, like a new beginning. Like home.” He then chuckled, squeezing Arthur’s freezing hands more tightly. “A bit like you.”

Arthur’s fingers twitched, and one of his eyebrows arched high as he tilted his head up to glance at Alfred’s face again. “I smell like home? Well that’s highly unlikely. Are you sure the cold isn’t getting to you?”

Alfred laughed. “You smell like the sea, Art,” he said, grinning. “Y’know, a little fishy.”

“How rude of you,” Arthur said, though his tone was still light. He smiled a bit more as he eased one of his hands free and used it to scoop up some snow. In a flash he had deposited it onto Alfred’s face, practically cupping the Spades King’s cheek as he pressed the snow to his skin. “Also, my name is not ‘Art’.”

Alfred, master of all combat, failed to see the attack coming. He gasped, quickly scraping the freezing snow off his skin and pressing what he could salvage against Arthur instead. He grinned at Arthur’s gasp. “Your nickname is,” he said, chuckling and, a little sheepishly, took to brushing the rest of the snow off Arthur’s cheek. “King Alfred the Rude? Sounds as good as anything.”

Arthur couldn’t help laughing at their antics. What were they, children? The whole situation was foolish, but…he found he didn’t really mind. “It certainly fits you,” he teased, leaning the tiniest bit into Alfred’s fingers while they were still against his skin.

They seemed to curl a little more, caressing him, before Alfred took his hand away. “but really, why not visit it then, if you’re forgetting what the sea is like? Surely you could take a diplomatic trip to the Spades shores? It’s beautiful there, and the people are nice.”

As warm as his insides had gotten from the nickname and the gentle brush of Alfred’s fingers against his cheek, Arthur’s core flared hotter still at the offer. He didn’t quite know what to do with himself; it had been a long, long while since spending time, alone, in such close quarters with a man had left him so relaxed. So…longing for more. He adjusted the edge of the cloak so it rose higher around his shoulders, covering his cheeks reddened from the snow and the warmth he felt inside.

But…

“As tempting as your offer of a visit sounds, it would be impossible. I’m not- I’m unable to leave here.” The Queen bit down on his lip. Well that sounds suspicious- shit. “I made…a promise to Ivan, and I intend to keep it. But thank you.” He offered Alfred a small, slightly sad smile.

Alfred’s own smile dulled as he averted his gaze, as if realizing the intimate atmosphere between them. He cleared his throat. “Well, I don’t have the magic to gift you a likeness of the sea,” he said, slipping back into a more formal manner, “but I will remember to bring you something back from it when I return to Clubs.”

Arthur’s back stiffened. After so long of being so observant of the men around him, he caught the shift within the King instantly. The realization was like a handful of snow shoved against his back, and his own smile fell away. “Don’t trouble yourself,” he told him, stepping out from underneath the cloak. “I tend to stay up here for hours. Really, you should return to your chambers now. You’ll have a long journey home tomorrow.”

Alfred sighed when he found himself alone against the cold once more. “Arthur,” he began, then hesitated, then stepped after the Queen, catching him by the waist and pulling him close. “I wish our circumstances were different, my Queen, but I will come back for you, even if just to lay my eyes on you again,” he vowed, releasing Arthur once he’d finished speaking. He threw his cloak over Arthur’s shoulders and gave him a dashing Spadian smile as he moved towards the stairs. “Just give it back to me next time, kay?”

This time it was Arthur who moved after Alfred, reaching out to catch him by the wrist. His eyes were wider than usual, and his heartbeat hammered in his ears. What was he doing, what was he doing? “My King, I-”

In a moment of selfishness, he adjusted the cloak more snugly around his shoulders instead of giving it back. He wanted Alfred to return for him. He wanted what Alfred was promising, despite the fear humming in his veins. In his heart. As Alfred turned to look at him, Arthur leaned up and pressed the tiniest of kisses to the King’s cheek. His cold lips brushed more against beard than skin, and were gone after not even a second had passed.

“Thank you, for both your concern and your company. It wasn’t awful spending time with you, I suppose,” he said, his lips quirking upward.

“I guess I didn’t have too awful of a time, either,” he replied, resting his hand on Arthur’s for a moment. Then, as if the King had been left behind so easily, he grinned and in a thick accent more suited for the fields than a castle said, “I’ll see ya ‘round, Art.” With a wave over his shoulder he was then gone, trudging back towards the main castle.

Oh heavens above, Alfred would actually be the end of him. Arthur buried his face into the warm cloak and let out a groan. That accent, and that goddamn nickname. It was infuriating and somewhat frightening how quickly Alfred was slipping past all of his carefully erected and maintained barriers. The Queen watched the King’s small figure on the ground until he was gone from sight, and then let out a sigh as he once more turned towards the mountains. The sea was there, just beyond them. Arthur could almost feel it singing to him, but he could neither hear it nor leave his gilded cage to answer.

He only left the tower when the moon started sinking low in the sky and slipped back into the castle with only a few guards for witnesses. The heavy cloak was stowed in the very back of his wardrobe, and when he finally slid into bed, he fell asleep to the burn in his limbs as warmth returned to them.

In the morning he watched from his bedroom balcony as the Spadian procession left. Matthew led the small column, the King’s prize war steed tied to the Prince’s young Arabian. The King himself was draped over the neck of his mount, as if an exotic pelt that snored very, very loudly. Arthur could even hear a few from his balcony before the group left the castle grounds, and he smiled.

If he allowed himself to think that Alfred’s tired state was due to him, well, there was no one there to bear witness or argue.

[spacegaywritings]

Communication of Silence - Chapter 11 Spi(c)es

Logan and Virgil are at work together but have different shifts at the library. Virgil gets to leave earlier and grabs some food with Remy. Roman makes interesting discoveries and does not know what to feel about it but he is sure Virgil is shadier than he lets on at first glance.

TW: food mentions/eating, working, watching other people, therapy talks, implications of insomnia/ED etc, Roman being a bit radical and protective, slightly stalkerish? and creepy roman, Virgil being shady af (aka dealing drugs, implied)

Tell me if you need me to tag any more than this!

Virgil uses he/they pronouns (for the day) in that chapter so the pronoun use is split for a reason. Yes, they do that for a reason. Just read on, it should be a topic later ao3 link *clicky* read under the cut:

A yawn could be heard and Virgil rubbed the sleepy tears from his eyes. Work was almost over for him and he had barely gotten any sleep after whatever this shitty thing had been with Logan.

The nerd was in the break room working on some project for one of his classes while Virgil had to take the front desk. One of their colleagues had just arrived and was getting ready in the back so they would be able to take Virgil’s part.

Only a few more minutes and Virgil would be on his way to leave. Today was one of the rare days during which he could not even relax with the smell of books surrounding him. A book on folklores from all over the globe was on his lap but he had not bothered turning the page in a long time. By now, it was more decoration than anything else. It was a comforting weight on top of that.

Another yawn caught him and he squeezed his eyes shut and covered his mouth for he was in public and attempted to maintain proper behaviour. However, it did not seem to be enough for some people.

“Dear gosh, this is so rude! Do you greet every costumer like that?”

Ah, that sound. It was the all too familiar noise of annoyance embodied by an actual person. He would have wished to call her a boomer but she was not. She looked like a woman in her uh.... late 30s, maybe fourties. Someone who decided to re-evaluate her life and start studying again even though it was lat. Nothing wrong with that but some people forgot that this was literally a bunch of tired student helping over tired students during the phase of upcoming deadlines for finals, assignments and other kinds of projects.

And there was a slender woman. Taller than him, rather fair skinned in nature but seemingly tanned by artificial help. Wasn’t tan actual damage to the skin? Why would that look healthy to anyone? Society was so weird and he was sure Logan had taught him that shit when they compared their skin colours at some point when working together on putting books into their respective places. (Nobody thought it was fair that Virgil would not put books away since he was small and he did not mean getting some help if it meant not sitting at the help desk and interact with people who smelled of desperation or entitlement at worst.) Virgil barely got to forcefully shut his own jaw and stop the yawn. Uncomfortable.

The woman was already ranting. For the sake of it, the emo just named her Karen. If he had to deal with her, he might as well try to mentally make it a bit more humorous.

He leaned back. On the outside, he seemed okay, awfully calm and probably just sleepy. The woman seemed to hate it and her head was already red as she demanded some book. He could not even ask which one it was because she rapidly blabbered herself into rage.

Did she even want help?

“Um, like.. What do you want?”

Karen had taken one moment to breathe in and Virgil was quick to slip a bookmark between the pages he had long given up on. He had spoken now and taken the wind out of her sails.

Her glossy, empty cans of eyes stared into him without any sense of understanding.

“Excuse me?”

Virgil supported his arm on his elbow and let his chin rest on his outstretched palm. He was not made for costumer interaction. Was it even a costumer? He did not exactly get money from them unless they had to pay overdue loan fees for keeping books for too long.

“I asked you what you want. You kinda talked for like”, he moved his left hand in a circle as if to show that it was an estimate rather than an actual calculation, “two minutes or something.” He shrugged. “Keep it short, it is 2 in the afternoon and I have no attention span for people yelling at me in a library.”

His voice sharpened at the end as to give an extra emphasis to the word library because it was a place of being silent. She was anything but silent.

The woman let out an unholy shriek and her angry eyes narrowed as she tried to eat his poor unfortunate soul.

“You are not listening to me and then you even dare to be this rude to me, a costumer? The costumer is always right and you suck at your job! If you keep up your shitty attitude, I will tell your manager and get you fired.”

Virgil sighed.

“I still do not know what you want. Do you want to return a book, request the library to get a special book or do you want to loan anything? Do you need help finding a book? You know, there is a computer that does not talk back at you, if you want to try with that.”

He pointed towards a row of computers, some of them having special signs to indicate that they were without internet access but only served as means to navigate around the library and find certain books.

Somehow, that must have been the most offensive couple of words ever used around the woman. She seemed to puff up in anger, her hair curling a bit and her face tinting a reddish shade.

“How dare you! You are being so rude! I thought student knew better than to disrespect their elders!”

She went on saying that she wanted to see his manager, had never been mistreated like this before and found it to be an “audacity” to be disregarded like that. Suddenly she started dashing out claims of having been insulted and discriminated against.

Virgil sighed and checked the clock. Yeah, two minutes. It was time to go and he was sure Tiara was gonna be there any second now. He rose to his feet and picked up his bag.

“Where are you going, young man?”

Ugh.. that card... He barely spared her a glance and pocketed his book.

“My shift is over and you are my colleague’s problem now.”

The small student put his bag on and blinked at her before he left his desk. His sass sparked the explosion.

“I want to speak to your manager right now! I am going to get your little ass kicked you stupid -”

She never got around to finishing this sentence but he was sure she was going to say something racist, funnily enough. But glory had it, someone behind her cleared his throat and adjusted his sunglasses.

“Ma’am”, the taller man spoke. He was probably taller because of his hair standing up.

“I am the manager and I am afraid I need you to leave. If you resist, I will ban you from this location and inform campus security about your disturbing presence.”

The woman turned around. Upon seeing the man in a leather jacket and sunglasses, she frowned.

“You are the manager?”

Her words sounded like the hiss of a snake that just met their worst enemy. Eyes narrowed, she focused on the slightly smaller man than him who just nodded towards Virgil.

“Ma’am, I asked you to leave the property. Virgil, I think you need to inform security and help this lady out”, he started and leaned in a bit, his voice just turning a bit sharper than his words already were. “Tell them to inform the police for resistance.”

By now, her head was redder than a glowing fire. She was smoking about as much. Virgil tried to look as nonchalant as ever when he picked up the phone, face unbiased as if he had never picked a side in his life.

The woman let out another screech of fury. It sounded a bit like an angry Chihuahua, ready to eat your fingercap off your hand without hesitation. She was dead serious but so was the manager. Virgil started dialing and clicked his tongue, his dark eyes looking past her raging form.

When he opened his mouth, she stomped her foot and hurried off, he gloomy eyes shooting daggers at the leather-clad man for another moment before she stomped through the library and back outside again.

Virgil immediately dropped the phone and put everything away, his hands rushed as if he was handling hot potatoes.

“Fuckfuckfuck, what if she gets me fired!?”

He ran his hands through his hair, calming the heat and dissipating the energy in his sudden kick of anxiety. The man with the sunglasses walked over and pouted at him.

“Really, you are going to panic before you even greet me? I expected better from you”, he whined and stretched out his arms to take Virgil’s bag. “That bitch cannot do shit and she totally believed I am the manager. Did you see her panic when I mentioned the police? I fucking broker her, like, TBH she will not come back when you are around again.”

His shoulders flexed under the black fabric of his heavy jacket. Eyes rolled under his sunglasses that he wore despite the rather cozy dimness within the building. Outside, it was cloudy and horridly white but there was no sun to illuminate the day. Still, looking up into the sky would hurt worse than looking into the warmth of the sun for just a moment.

“Come on, you don’t need that job anyway and you can get other jobs if she really gets through with this”, he nudged the other who just looked up at him, eyes swollen in worry and decidedly looking at the other, then past him. He made the impression there was something to look out for. “Also, I fucking killed that performance. I want a bit of recognition here.”

He sing-sang his latter sentence, the words and notes wrapping around Virgil and softly pushing him closer to the taller person.

The emo caved.

“Ri, I swear you are going to be the death of me.”

He stepped into the other and just threw his hands around him.

“Whatever the fuck. You are right or whatever. I don’t care. Fuck work, fuck Karen.”

Virgil nudged Remy’s shoulder and started walking towards the exit.

“Karen? That was her name? You know why she was here? Did she come before? She sounded gosh-fucking-awful.”

The younger of the two chuckled and walked them out.

“Do I need to teach you memes, too? Am I obligated to explain every bit of Gen Z culture to you?”

The taller one inhaled the air in offence, one hand on his chest as he slowly craned his head to look at Virgil, his mouth agape in utter shock at the rude betrayal. He got as far as to slide his shades up to his head where it rested in his dark brown hair.

“Gurl, did you just fucking straight up and murder me after I saved your ass from that suburban super mom-monster?”

The student pushed the door open for them and took the time to shoot Remy an arrogant glare.

“Thank you, oh holy knight but I do not need to be saved by some random dude. Believe it or not, I would have handled that. It is the end of my shift and I was about to stall for time.”

Remy shook his head. Before he could try and bite back another comment, Virgil was already speaking again.

“Anyway, your performance did NOT suck, so I guess you are still allowed to call yourself a thespian or actress or whatever you wanna use... “, his voice dropped from high amusement down to sincere interest, “do you feel the actor today? Or, like, just Remy?”

The actor hugged Virgil’s side and blinked slowly as they walked back to his office.

“I am gonna be your brother today. What about you? Are you feeling a sister in you? A sibling or are you my brother as usual?”

This time, he stretched out his hands to open the door.

“Uh.. I mean, .. “, the other started but broke off as he quickly ducked down and walked into the office without missing another beat. Once inside, he shrugged and sat down onto the less cluttered side of Remy’s highly professional desk. “I dunno, man. I am just a thing, I guess”

Remy nodded and gave his sibling their things.

“Ah, alright, thank you for these clear words, Misc “I can stand up for myself” Lee.”

The other reacted with nothing more than a scoff.

“Whatever, just get lunch with me. Any suggestions?”

They pulled out their phone and started typing away on it, pulling up the email app he needed to compute a text to his therapist. If he was lucky, he would get some dismissed appointment and during winter time, maybe he was actually that lucky.

“I talked to your boyfriend, you know”, Remy started and Virgil waved him off.

“I am literally messaging her right now, can you calm down? I am about to go eat with you and you can take a picture if that makes you happy. Don’t get on my ass, I am.. I am trying..”

Virgil sighed and pressed “send” without reading over it or adding these funky “sincerely, yours” words and all that shit. They were not exactly in the mood to discuss the whole thing again. Their mood was already sore enough from everything that had happened before.

“Then she probably told you that I am okay and panicked enough over that. I am trying, okay? Just leave me be and get stupid food with me.” They sighed and threw their phone over. “Please.”

Remy caught the flying device with coordinated hands and skilled fingers. With one simple motion, he fastened his grip around the phone and glared back at Virgil.

“Don’t throw your shit, kid”, he warned them but did not intend to go any further than this. His eyes glanced over the shiny display. With how they used their things and just threw them around, it was a miracle this thing was still intact - at least from what it looked like on the outside. Then again, water damage was more likely than cracking the display, seeing that Virgil was almost constantly on their phone and texting him or other people.

The display was shining brightly into Remy’s face in the unlit office of his.

“Why do you need to have such a high brightness when you work in a library?”

Remy sighed and squinted before letting his shades return to the bridge of his nose. The tinted glasses did their job in making sight a bit more bearable and less painful. It was almost as if looking at bright things did not make his eyes sting dully and his head contract in pain.

In front of his eyes was a white bunch of nothing and some meek, black letters. An email to Virgil’s therapist. Well, it was not the therapist directly but it was the receptionist who was to plan and manage their therapist’s schedule.

“The library is not a dark cave, stop pretending the world is as dark as it looks from watching it through your dumb shades”, Virgil shot back casually as they fidgeted with their hands, fingers pushing together for no reason and curling up together. If they were longer, they would definitely get tied up like wild, cooked noodles. “Also, I am literally sitting right underneath a bigass lamp at the front desk. The shelves are a bit better when you are in the section with that fuckton of heavy books nobody wants to touch unless they are forced to.”

Ah, yes.

“You don’t have to show me. You are an adult and I trust you to do the right thing.”

They scoffed but left the comment unreviewed safe for a quick glance at Remy over their brow for less than a split moment. He almost thought it was nothing but imagined because he would expect them to do that.

The smaller of the two took their phone back and scrolled through it. Their fingers seemed a bit more at rest but they still rubbed over the display as if an apocalypse of message had just exploded in their notification feed. For sure, it was unlikely to get so many messages at once but Remy did not mind the quirks too much.

“Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii”

The student finally put their phone aside and let their nickname for Remy be stretched longer than wet and sugary sweet gum for kids. The one you would use to make really big bubbles before popping them in one wet and lazy sound. Feet swung forward and fell back against the side of the desk with a dull ‘clung’.

The addressed person angled his shades. His eyes were spitting salt at the other.

“Bitch, now you are going all sweet on me -”

“I will get food without you, hoe, I just want to get it done, come ooooon!”

He could not exactly argue with that. Considering Virgil sucked at eating food, at least they seemed to get this issue together around Remy. Possibly, their body just registered that being around him meant eating anyway so there was no faking it away and skipping meals and missing carbs and minerals.

It felt funny to think about it in this way. Honestly, he would not mind it if it was that way. At least then Virgil at properly at regularly.

But threatening to throw off their lunch tradition? Unbelievable.

Virgil took a threatening step down and stood by their words. They were getting their bag.

“If ya don’t hurry, I can get you something - preferences? Disgusting food? Fake Asian food fusion imitation? Weird fruits? Vegan healthy smoothie shit?”

Remy clicked his tongue but held up his hand for a moment to signal his need of time. Then he bent over to get his purse.

“Shut up, it is my treat. I might have eaten your job after all.”

The professor clicked a turn into the ground with his vocal heels and strove for the exit of his office. Virgil was quick to follow behind. When he opened the door and closed it again, he did not notice Roman just a bit away, on the staircase. He had come to find Professor Archimeda after all.

***

”Got it all?”

Virgil’s eyes rolled behind Remy, nearly turning back into the back of their head but they stayed put - as loyal and reliable as always.

“Yeah, just fucking chill for one moment in your existence”

They trailed behind him with the bags of food in their annoyed hands. Remy kept turning around to look at them, checking whether they were there, whether the food was there.

“Like you have to be talking, honestly”

Remy’s voice was so flat, it could barely be taken as more than a joke despite it being drier than any sand-dominated desert could ever be. Virgil snorted at the familiar salty flavour of his response.

“I am not going to disappear and neither is the food, seriously, I mean, you can hear me walking behind you. It is not that much of a big deal. I am just carrying the bags, calm your protective instincts, princess.”

The professor wanted to award that comment with a snarky glare but found his shades to be in the way as always. The brightly lit hallway had the stinging LEDs that would tear into his brain if he dared to even as much as consider taking off his shades and he had done this mistakes enough already.

Sweet relief was nothing compared to the satisfaction of reaching his office once more and finally opening the door to allow the unlit room to swallow them into the dim atmosphere of his beloved office.

“Finally”, the professor announced, clutching his tea tighter and kicking the door shut without glory nor car. One might have thought he just finished a whole day of work and extra chores but no, the dude just felt the pain of migraines and rubbed his temples as soon as he crashed into his chair and got to put his tea down.

On the other side of the desk, Virgil put the food down and looked at his miserable brother.

“You know what?”

Remy sighed and slowly brought his lips to his stupid straw. It was one of these funky things that was made of biodegradable something. No idea what it was but it was something and it was not paper, probably. It kinda felt different but yeah, whatever.

He sipped his tea. Decaffeinated cinnamon winter whatever tea. It was as spicy as the tea around the theatre department. Which was pretty much a lot. To indicate his attention, one of his eyebrows rose and Remy craned his neck a bit to lean towards Virgil who just got around to opening a window yet pull the curtains shut so it would continue to be dark and private. As always.

“You look like a VSCO girl”, Virgil stated with tired eyes as he moved his chair closer to the suffering blob of leather and black. “I am kinda disappointed I noticed only know but you really really do look like one and I actually think you might be the bitch of all VSCO girls. Like, the superior boss bitch.”

Remy snorted his tea back into his straw and decided to stop hugging it and just put it back onto his desk again. Tea spilled everywhere. His pants, his jacket, a bit of floor and a whole bunch of Remy face got a big load the gulp he had meant to swallow rather than spontaneously blow back into his straw (which did not have the capacity to take it all in.

Yeah, he should have never touched it after getting into the chair…. The feeling of drinking just made the migraines a little less worse most of the time. No, before and after was just as miserable. Fuck hydration. But drinking? Drinking was the cure for migraine pains for some weird, magical reason.

At least to him.

He smacked his lips and clicked his tongue. Another sigh flew from his lips as Virgil curled into a ball of laughter at the horrible image before him. It was too good not to. Remy’s lips were slightly apart as he seemed to growl the tea away from him with intimidation skills he definitely did not have on tea.

He looked.. genuinely offended at the liquid for deciding to do any of this to him and jut ruin his jacket.

“Fuck you, Virgil, just fuck you, little hate crab.”

The professor got up and shrugged his jacket off his shoulders. At least it had time to dry before lunch was over.

“You know, you could be helpful and give me something to, like, help and stuff.”

Remy stuck his tongue out at Virgil who finally uncurled but was still grinning as they reached for the napkins and gave them to their sibling.

“Alright, princess”, Virgil commented with a smirk in their voice.

The professor rolled his eyes but refused to thank him. He patted his jacket dry but accepted the loss on his clothing. It was not much, it was not really wet or anything, just damp - if any.

Remy put his jacket over the chair and settled back into his seat.

“Just hand over the food”, he muttered in defeat and Virgil seemed to comply.

They distributed the food by giving Remy some of the boxes and just push some of his stuff aside so the desk was providing some more space for them to clutter it in food items. Not to be a bitch but this was his food space now.

“Mind me, Ri”, Virgil warned before he rose his knees as a first gesture. Remy took the hint and kindly turned his chair a bit so his sibling could access his lap properly. Their feet settled on his lap and got out some bamboo cutlery.

“Yeah, whatever.”

Virgil smiled and put the cutlery between them before he started opening basically any bit of food. No box was left closed (safe for the ones in the bags, still. They were to be spared for another few minutes until it was time for them).

The next minutes were just spent with the two starting to eat, Virgil picking a playlist of Queen songs to play in the background so Remy would be a bit happier with them.

“Hey”, Virgil mumbled and grabbed their bag. Remy hummed in acknowledgment.

“Got some more trash for you and you bet you will love it~”

Virgil whispered and moved their legs so they could pull Remy’s chair closer to him. Because OF COURSE this was an office chair with wheels and movement.This was an office and this was Remy and he would definitely have these kinds of things. The student reached into their bag and handed Remy a little brown bag. It looked like one of these lunch bags.

“Yeah, so, you know.. Met my friend again and they made you something.” They shrugged, deposing the bag in Remy’s lap, right between his feet.

“Well, this just perfect here”, he commented with a sly smile but he took the bag anyway and put it away carefully. “Thank you. How much?”

Virgil rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Just hand me those fucking honey batches, Ri, I am gonna eat them all on my own and we are even.”

Remy did not try to argue with that and silently shoved the box of dessert over to the other. They did not do much more. The rest of their lunch break was filled with some jokes and Virgil eating about as much as two people would. The two would cuddle and talk until time came for the professor to pack up and get ready to be a good teacher for his acting classes.

They parted with a warming hug right before the door, still in the safety of the dimly-lit office. Remy leaned down to press a kiss to the top of Virgil’s head.

”You take care of yourself. See you later - tomorrow? You can sleep at my place if you want to. You look like you need it.”

He touched the darkened circles under their slightly swollen eyes. They looked a bit puffy as is from crying but it was so usual, Remy barely noticed it - that is how they met after all. It was not out of the ordinary. Sadly, that was exactly the point. Insomnia should not be the new normal (especially for a growing zygote like Virgil).

They just shrugged their shoulders.

“Yeah.. I mean, maybe, I guess. I w-”, they started but a notification sound interrupted them.

The emo pulled out their phone and unlocked it with practiced movements, barely looking at the display at all. Once unlocked, they checked for messages.

“Well, time for me to go get some stupid therapy - I mean.. get therapy. You know.. whatever. I gotta get going or I will be late. I uh..” They stopped and shuffled their feet a bit, black boots clacking together. “I will text you, I guess? Thanks for the food and the...um, all the stuff..”

Remy shrugged and nudged them, warmth quickly seeping into their shoulder. He gave the student a genuine smile, even his eyes were radiating warmth.

“No problem. Now go before any of us is going to be late, Virg.”

The smaller of the two flinched as if hit by the realisation that time was still a and they, in fact, were on a clock to get to their spontaneous appointment. They quickly jumped into another hug before dashing out of the door and disappearing down the hallway with quick steps.

Their feet were walking fast until they picked up further so they would run as the storm, dark jacket flaring out and making them look like an actual storm cloud. Their steps echoing through the halls were the thunder rolling in the sky and scaring your eardrums.

Remy smiled after the figuring shrinking in size and volume before he came to his senses and reminded himself of locking up his office and walking over to his course. Roman was waiting for him and he made a bad example of himself when he was late to his own course.

Little did he know that he would probably be there first because Roman was still struck by seeing his boss and roommate interact so closely, so intimately. He turned his back on the window and hurried away, remembering there was a place he had to be.

He really needed to talk to Patton about this. The thespian was not sure what was going on but it looked shady and he could not tolerate it any longer. Someone needed to make sure that Logan would not fall for some dangerous asshole. Logan was too emotion-dumb for that. Not to talk about putting Patton at danger in his currently still rather fragile state...

Just..

No, he would not take this any longer. As he hurried through the extensive building and the majestic pieces of architectural beauty, he reminded himself to address the issue. He would try his best to convince Logan and Patton to just kick that guy out. Roman had no patience nor understanding left for someone who would constantly snap at him. He was not ready to risk his friends’ well-being for the sake of being fair. Virgil had played all his chances and lost already.

His time was over.

Just you wait, Virgil. Roman knew his friends and come time, they would realise that this stranger was nothing but trouble and needed to leave. No matter the nice benefits of him staying around.

He better watch out. Roman was coming for him.

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

FIC: All The Things You Told Me Not To Be

“So what the fuck was that all about?”

Dean gritted the words out, hands fisted around the beer as he sat across the dinky, laminate table from the other.

He had had all night and morning to stew over the events of the last night. He’d had so long to review the words and accusations and suggestions of the night before that Dean was sure he couldn’t think on it any longer and keep his mouth shut at the same time. He had to ask, he had to ask and find out the answers.

“What was what about, Dean?” Jo asked quietly, her own hands wrapped about her own drink - a diet coke, Dean had been surprised to see and notice her drinking only over the last two days - as she diverted her eyes from meeting his eyes. She looked about the hotel room, eyes darting about, and he knew she was trying to conjure Sam’s return from the local library to search out their next lead.

He felt himself slam his bottle down on the table before he spoke again, “You know exactly what, Jo. Stop playing goddamn dumb with me and answer the question.”

“Oh that that.” Jo replied, an incredibly fake looking innocent look upon her face as she flicked at the metal tab atop her drink. “Well, mostly it was a group of annoying goddesses behaving like they were on Sex and The City or something.”

“You know what I meant, Jo.” Dean growled harshly, glare in full force as he stared across the tabletop at the other. Jo’s eyes met his for all of a second before she was looking away, and if he didn’t know better, he’d think she was blushing. But Joanna Harvelle never blushed - not when he shot down her come ons, not when she shot down his own, not when he accused her of being a teenager sighing over her text messages and not when he’d made a comment about the white shirt that swam on her when she’d come out of the bathroom the night before, the same that was now sitting slightly askew off of one shoulder as they hung about waiting for Sam to get back with some new lead and whatever passed for breakfast that he found.

Jo rolled her eyes in response, her shoulder jerking up noncommittally - a flash of tan skin upwards before sinking back into white cotton - as she turned her head from him as if she didn’t want to meet his own.

“Jo, what was that all about?” This time Dean felt his voice dropping quieter than he had ever meant it to, but he had to know, and if he didn’t know better he’d have thought her eyes had been shiny when she’d turned away, wet and glassy with tears ready to fall. Sam was always the better one of them to deal with crying women, or crying anyone, and Dean hadn’t even seen Jo let a tear fall when she’d been bleeding out on the dusty hardware store floor. Her eyes had had the same shiny look though, and swallowing down the bitter taste that line of thought brought up, Dean tried his best to sound as non-judgemental as he could. “I can tell whatever was brought up was..bad for you, and I want to help. I’m..I can listen, Jo.”

“Okay, okay, I guess I can’t really hide it forever.” Jo replied, and Dean looked away as he noticed her hand lifting from the table to rub across her eyes for a moment before the blonde turned to look back at him. Blinking his own eyes a few times to force back the tight, prickling feeling he could feel taunting him, he raised an eyebrow at her.

She let out a sigh and ran a hand through her hair, that silver decorative ring he had not seen her take off any moment since they’d been reunited flashing in the golden light of the old ceiling light, Jo looked back at him and seemed to have reached a point of calm zen to handling the situation. Dean wished he could be even half as calm on the inside as she looked.

“So, I’ll start with the fact that, uh, after I came back I was stuck in a bit of a shitty situation, got helped out by Crowley before he went all insane, and befriended Grey.” Dean felt himself flinch three times as she started talking, glad to see that her hands were off the table and he would imagine in her lap as she spoke, eyes focused down on them rather than watching his own reactions. That Jo had felt so alone and separated from them all that she had had to call upon a demon flashed painfully like a lance, and hearing about the goddamn shadow monster getting his hands on her during such a vulnerably time felt like the burn of alcohol over the wound. “Grey helped me out of a few tight spots when I’d started hunting again and proved he was helpful and worth keepin’ around. As a friend, before you ask, Dean.”

“Oh yeah, cause he really wanted to be just friends with you, Jo.” Dean couldn’t help himself from grumbling, pulling his beer over for a swig while Jo looked across at him for the first time, a scowl on her face. He dropped the beer back to the table after two long chugs, raising a brow back at her and speaking a little freer than usual since Sam wasn’t around to keep him in line. “I get you might have been thinking you were friends, but he’s still a hot blooded male isn’t he?”

“Uh... In a sense.” The blonde responded, a strange look upon her face as one side of her lip curled up and her nose scrunched a little, before she shook her head. “Anyway, that’s so not the point. We didn’t even hook up until like, ten months after we’d started hangin’ out anyways.”

Dean snorted at that, rolling his eyes to himself as he thought over just another check against the intelligence of the creature.  Brushing that thought away, he made a ‘continue’ gesture with his hand as Jo’s face slowly morphed back into the almost studiously blank look. “Ignoring that, continue with your story.”

“Well, Grey.. he’s not the only shadow runnin’ about in a human-type form right now. He’s got a sister, who isn’t half bad - currently in a kitsune so stoppin’ it from eating a ton of people - and then the real problem is his, uh, twin.” Jo’s voice went up at the end of her sentence, as if she wasn’t sure of what she was saying, or perhaps the words she was using, and asking him a question all at once. Shaking her head, Jo began twisting the ring on her middle finger around nervously as a small frown formed between her brows. “So like, back then I was becomin’ friends with Grey and his brother who was kind of horrible, and hates Grey with a passion, was around trying to break anythin’ that made Grey happy...”

That phrasing struck him as a little off, his own browns creasing quizzically as he looked across at Jo who had fallen silent again. The news that there were more of them out and about sat wrong in his stomach as it was, even if one seemingly was restricting the dangerous behaviours of another type of monster, but that girl-shadow would be something Dean could question Jo over at another time. It was clear the sister was not the point of her concerns and awkwardness.

“And this...twin? Was trying to destroy what made ...your monster friend happy?”

“Yeah. Which unfortunately included me.” Jo let out a bit of a laugh there, it sounded like a harsh and brutalist sound, rough around the edges and a little too dry from what her usual tone was. She shook her head and tilted her can upright to get the last of her soda before setting the empty can down with a chink. “So this ties in with what the Aztec goddess was on about-”

“Which one?”

“The long dark hair. Super creepy laugh?”

“Oh.” Dean nodded in awareness, as he remembered with a shudder the barking laughter that sounded like the yapping howl of dogs and the way that was the one goddess that seemed to unsettle Jo more than the rest. Frowning, he lent forward as he realised this might answer some of the questions that had come up from the various goddess’ words. “So the, uh, twin is tied to the supposed.. lust goddess?”

“Yeah.” Jo answered sharply, jerking out of her chair and moving towards the small fridge and retrieving two fresh beers. “Basically, the short version is after in escalating ways of attemptin’ to kill me - first with a wendigo, then by throwin’ me off a building   - the guy and I were kind of.. trapped in a trap like the old Holmes case, you know? Ring of iron, trappin’ it in but I didn’t get out of the circle in time.”

Dean accepted the cold beer like he’d just been handed the Nobel Prize for Sitting Through Awkward Conversations, and he cracked his new one open as Jo sat herself down across from him again, that white shirt down to mid thigh but barely covering anything when she was sitting from what he remembered of last night. Jo rocked back and forth for a moment before opening her own bottle and taking a long, deep chug of the alcoholic drink like a dying man in the desert.

“So you got caught with this..twin?”

“Yeah, and uh, unfortunately he’s a bit of a nympho given that they usually don’t have that kind of activity in their normal shadow form.” Jo muttered the last half of the sentence under her breath, and Dean struggled to hear anything after hearing she’d gotten herself caught in a trap with a nymphomaniac, murderous monster. “Anyway, the only way I managed to escape was by initiating non-violent activity and basically screwin’ the guy instead. I mean, better not gettin’ carved up and killed like a Christmas turkey, and better to be willin’ than not, right?”

Dean could feel the acidic burn in the back of his throat as he fought back the desire to expel his stomach contents at hearing that sentence from Jo of all people. Jo who had held him at gun point and thrown such a great hook to the nose; Jo who hadn’t cried or whined being covered in dirt and grime and taken prisoner by and then used as bait for possibly the evillest sonofa bitch too grace their fine country; Jo who had saved him from being torn apart a second time by hellhounds and taken the brunt of it herself; the Jo that he’d felt some small part - maybe that little spark of hope that maybe, one day, it’d be the right time and place with the right girl for once - go up in flames along with as they’d made their escape from the hardware store.

Shaking his head, Dean stood up carefully from his seat and left the perspiring beer on the table top as he rounded the small table to grab a hold of the other by the shoulders. Her eyes were wide and confused as he pulled her up out of her chair and wrapped both arms around her as tightly as possible. She felt like nothing, so much smaller and delicate and fragile than when he did this to his little brother over such situations, and that just turned his stomach all over again. Was no one looking out for her back then? Did Jo have no one who could have helped her? Where was that fucking monster friend of her’s then?

“Uh, Dean..” Jo’s slighly muffled voice cut through his tumultuous thoughts, forcing them all back and down to be asked about at a later time. Mostly likely to Bobby. With a lot of shots of whiskey and a seriously dark glare for not letting him in on her return earlier when just maybe he could have provided the support she clearly needed. “Not that I don’t love me a hug, but.. are you good?”

“I’m fine, Jo.” He replied, voice thick and gruff for a moment before he got a hold of himself. Giving one last squeeze, Dean released the other from the tight embrace but left his hands on her tiny shoulders, his palms basically covered the entirety of each of her shoulders he noticed abstractly, as he guided her back to her seat and sank down to his knees next to her rather than moving back to his own seat. “So that..that was what the Aztec one was on about? Givin’ into that monster, huh?”

“Yeah, exactly. It wasn’t really my proudest moment but like... what’s done is done.” Jo shrugged her shoulder, not dislodging his hold but an almost sad smile blooming across her face. “Anyways, it only happened the two times - a second purely out of, uh, spite for how I was bein’ treated by some unrelated friends about it - but I guess it was enough for that goddess to decide she wanted to be a bitch about it.”

Dean found himself gritting his teeth behind snapping that clearly Jo had poor taste in friends at the time and should have called him or Sam or both of them rather than dealing with that on her own. That maybe if she had known she had their support as well, she might have made it through safer, less hut and less impacted. That perhaps she would never had relied upon and made friends with the shadow that had wormed it’s way into her heart so much that the Love Goddess had spoken at every chance about them. That she would never have been subjected to that shadow-twin’s behaviours if she had simply piked up her phone and called to say she was back.

Nodding his head at her words instead, Dean rubbed his thumb over the bareskin on her right shoulder before finally pulling his hands back to himself at the curious and uncertain look on the other’s face. “I guess that must be the case.” Coughing a little, he moved to his feet and shuffled backwards blindly for a few feet before sinking into the rickety dining chair he had vacated with a tiny frown on his face.” “Well, I’m glad that we got out of that place safely last night, without any additional casualties.”

“I’m just mad I didn’t get to finish exploring!” Jo’s voice was much lighter and the concerned look on her face melted and made way for that ten million watt smile he remembered and found himself unable to maintain eye contact through. “I always wanted to go to that place actually.”

“Really?” Dean leapt on the topic change, and lifting the beer to his lips as Jo started talking about the building itself rather than about the assortment of gods that they had run into inside, he could feel the slightly cool ice that had been forming inside his mind towards Jo and her lifestyle choices melting away piece by piece as she began to babble.

Nodding where necessary, and making the odd agreeing noise, the hunter found his chest aching as he thought about it and watched the lightness returning to the other as she spoke on and on. That light he remembered so fondly that would shine out of each of her smiles and her eyes whenever he’d cross the threshold to the Roadhouse back in the day seemed to be growing and growing as she talked, and he could feel that same unwanted ache he felt that first time telling her it was the wrong place and wrong time gnawing at his twisted, bruised and beaten heart all over again as she said something about the golden winged angel statues or some irradiated green piece they had passed by. That was a thousand years ago, and spotting the shinning ring again, Dean lifted his beer for another swig as he settled into listening intently and trying to drown the little part of him that swore he’d let the right girl escape him eons ago to be claimed by someone else, maybe more deserving than him.

[bookofjin]

After Fei, 383c

Previous parts:

https://bookofjin.tumblr.com/post/184898671714/after-fei-383a

https://bookofjin.tumblr.com/post/185069168099/after-fei-383b

Zhai Bin rebels

In the end it was not Murong Chui who first turned openly against Qin, but Zhai Bin, a leader among the Dingling people who held the Qin office of Assistant Officer Palace Gentleman of the Guards Army. Unfortunately, since none of the source texts are written from Zhai Bin's perspective, nothing is told of how and why Zhai Bin started his rebellion, only that he gathered a force of 4 000 and planned to attack Luoyang (JS114, JS125).

The Qin commander at Luoyang was the Shepherd of Yu province, Fu Hui, the Duke of Pingyuan, he sent the news of Zhai Bin's rebellion to his brother Fu Pi at Ye. (JS123) There also arrived a letter by relay post from Fu Jian that Murong Chui should command against Zhai Bin. (ZZTJ105)

Murong Chui given command against Zhai Bin

Shi Yue, who Fu Jian had earlier sent to strengthen the defences at Ye, protested against decision to Fu Pi. People were still disturbed after the defeat at Fei river, as a result Zhai Bin had rapidly gained the following of criminals who wished to exploit the chaos. However Murong Chui had secret hopes of restoring Yan, and relying on him to command troops was too dangerous. But Fu Pi argued that Murong Chui while at Ye was like sleeping dragon. It was safer to send him away, then he and Zhai Bin could fight each other like two tigers, and they could come after and subdue both. (ZZTJ105)

Fu Pi also talked to Murong Chui. Zhai Bin had dared to rebel because of Qin's weakness, and now his brother Fu Hui was in danger. But he had a hope that the General of the Best of the Army, Murong Chui, could do something about it. Chui replied that he was only a dog or hawk waiting for orders. So Fu Pi gave him command of 2 000 troops, and gifted him gold and silk. Chui refused the gifts, but asked for his old fields and gardens, and that Fu Pi allowed. (JS123)

Fu Pi appointed one Fu Feilong, commanding 1 000 Di cavalry, as Murong Chui's deputy. He instructed Feilong that as a royal kinsman he would actually be the one in charge. While formally Murong Chui had been put in command, he would rely on Feilong to lead the troops to victory, and to look out for any disloyalty. (ZZTJ105)

Fu Pi ordered Murong Chui's son Nong along with three of his nephews, Kai, Shao, and Zhou, to stay behind inside Ye city as hostages to Chui's good behaviour. Kai and Shao were sons of Chui's late older brother Ke, Zhou the son of one of his younger brothers. (JS123)

Murong Chui leaves Ye

Fu Pi had actually quartered Murong Chui west of Ye, rather than inside the city. As he prepared to leave, he asked for permission to enter and visit the old Yan ancestral temple, but Fu Pi refused, still wary it seems of allowing Chui inside the city. Murong Chui disguised himself and entered anyway, but then the pavilion clerk refused him entry. Chui in anger killed the clerk, and burnt down the pavilion. Then he left. (JS123)

Shi Yue talked to Fu Pi again, saying that when Murong Chui was in Yan, he brought chaos to his own state, but when he came to Qin he had to behave himself. Now that he had exposed himself as a troublemaker, they could attack him. Fu Pi replied that he was still indebted to Chui for saving his father after everyone else had run away. Shi Yue retorted that Murong Chui had not been loyal to Yan, but maybe he would be fully loyal to Qin. When Chui had fled captivity in Yan, Fu Jian had bestowed him high honours in Qin, but had never been able to ascertain his loyalty. Chui still intended to rebel, and if they did not attack him now they would suffer from it later. But Fu Pi still refused. Afterwards Shi Yue told people that Fu Jian and Fu Pi were too busy looking into small kindnesses to see the big picture, and before long they would all be captives of the Xianbei. (JS123)

Murong Chui kills Fu Feilong

Murong Chui travelled south from Ye. At Tang pond near Anyang, Min Liang and Li Man/Pi caught up with him, they had come from Ye to tell him of Fu Pi conspiring with Fu Feiling. Murong Chui complained that he was fully loyal to Qin, yet Fu Pi still plotted against him. Whatever his wishes, this was the case. (ZZTJ105) Min Liang and Li Man had earlier been sent by Fu Jian to escort Murong Chui to Ye.

Murong Chui halted in Henei with the excuse that his army was too small. After a few days recruiting, his strength had increased to 8 000. Fu Hui sent messengers from Luoyang asking Chui to hurry his advance. But Chui told Fu Feilong that if they moved at night and halted at day, they could take the enemy unaware. Feilong accepted this plan. (ZZTJ105)

At night on 5 February 384, Chui put his oldest son, Bao, in charge of the troops in front, and one of his younger sons, Long, of the troops in the rear. Then at the sound of drums, front and rear all attacked Feilong's Di troops. They killed Feilong and massacred all the Di. With that done, Chui then sent all the westerners among his staff back to his home, he also sent a letter to Fu Jian to explain his actions. (ZZTJ105)

Murong Feng defeats Mao Dang

Meanwhile, when Murong Feng, Wang Teng and Duan Yan heard that Zhai Bin had risen in rebellion, they all came to join him with their private retinues. Murong Feng was another nephew of Murong Chui, while Wang Teng and Duan Yan were sons of former Yan ministers. Fu Jian had earlier left behind the General of the Garrison Army, Mao Dang, to strengthen the defences at Luoyang, and Fu Hui now sent him out against Zhai Bin. When Murong Feng heard that Mao Dang was coming, he put on his armour and rode out accompanied by the Dingling forces. They defeated Mao Dang, and killed him, then they attacked and took Lingyun Terrace west of Luoyang where they seized more than ten thousand sets of arms and armour. (ZZTJ105)

(The location of Zhai Bin on the reference map should not be taken too literally.)

Murong Chui crosses the He

On 6 February 384, Murong Chui crossed the He, and burnt the bridge behind him. By now his forces had swelled to 30 000. He left the Xianbei leader Kezuhun Tan behind in Henei to continue recruiting, and sent Tian Shan/Sheng to Ye to secretly warn Murong Nong and the others there, and to tell them to also raise troops. (ZZTJ105)

When Tian Shan came to Ye, it was already after sunset, so only Murong Shao went out while the others remained inside the city. Shao went to Pu Pond where he stole several hundred of Fu Pi's finest horses and waited for the others. (ZZTJ105)

The next day, 7 February 384, the last day of the year, Murong Nong and his cousins put on unassuming clothes, and set out from Ye with a few horsemen. (ZZTJ105) Nong and Zhou then fled to Lieren, while Shao and Kai went to Piyang. (JS123)

[cafeshuaa-blog]

{hybrid!au} playful pup ; kim mingyu

summary;

sticky summer heat is the last thing you want your boyfriend mingyu to be overly energetic in.

“Y/n!” Mingyu almost yelped, a loud thud following as he fell off the bed in a hurry. You rolled your eyes, continuing to change your flimsy pajama top and shorts into a floral bikini.

“Mingyu, it’s too hot inside for cuddles and you know that. We own a pool for a reason, and it’s not like we have any neighbours that will see that you’re a... puppy.” Just as you said that, his golden tail started loudly swatting the bedroom floor, his face breaking out in a large smile that showed off his canines.

“Yah can I have a playdate?!” He exclaimed quickly, scurrying to his feet as you made the move to leave the room. His tail would wag nonstop, thudding against random surfaces around the house.

“If you’re thinking about Joshua again, no. Mingyu, the poor cat doesn’t even like water and you basically picked him up and dropped him in the pool, I’ve never seen him look so terrified and ready to kill at the same time,” You sighed, unlocking the back door and letting Mingyu run out to grab a soft toy in his jaws, squinting as he looked back at you due to the sun in his eyes, “what about Hansol and Chan?”

Mingyu let out a soft whine, dropping the toy to speak to you again as you walked to the pool.

“Hansol and Chan are wolves baby,” he huffed, almost like he was frustrated by your lack of knowledge about his friends, “anyway they’re probably still asleep.”

This went on for the majority of the morning, bringing up all twelve of his hybrid friends, from Junhui the black panther to Seungkwan the parrot and Seungcheol the bear. Either you had something to say about them, or Mingyu did. After the last hybrid was mentioned, Mingyu seemed to realise that the idea of a play date in this hot weather wasn’t going to happen, and eventually joined you in the pool.

You were only in there to wade in the water, Mingyu understood that as he took a few moments to wrap his arms around your waist and bury his face in your neck.

“Are you being sulky Mingyu?” You rose a brow, raising a wet hand to run your fingers through Mingyu’s dry hair, making sure to specifically scratch behind his floppy ears. He looked up with his warm brown eyes and let out a small whine, shaking his head.

“I’m just cuddling my girlfriend, is that an issue?” He jutted his bottom lip out into a pout, making you smile and give him a quick chaste kiss on the lips. You were thankful that besides Mingyu’s playful and boisterous puppy persona, he still had his reasonable human side that stopped him from being a complete canine.

“No baby, of course it’s not an issue.” You hummed, watching him smile and pepper a few feathered kisses onto your neck. You both stayed that way for a while, with Mingyu’s tail disturbing the calm water around you both as it wagged, clearly slower than it had been prior to that morning. After a while, you slowly started to pick up the signs - his hands would play with anything they could, from the straps of your bikini to the material hugging your hips and the small of your back - that ultimately, Mingyu was agitated from being calm for so long. His behaviour that morning from the moment you both woke up had already told you the day was going to drag, and Mingyu had unfortunately got too much energy stored up his sleeve. Your arms slowly fell from around his neck, pulling back to look at his face.

“Gyu, you don’t have to stay by me if you want? We got a house with a bigger garden for a reason,” you laughed, gesturing to his ears and his tail, “you’re not chained to me.” With that being said, Mingyu had quickly swam away, diving under the water to wet the rest of his body. He resurfaced a few seconds later, using his hands to brush his soaked hair back from his face and talentedly missing his ears in the process. You were watching carefully from the sidelines, watching the water drop in precise, teasing droplets down his shirtless body and onto his tan skin. Shaking your head, you broke away from the hypnotised state you were watching the sun make Mingyu’s body glow even more than it did normally. 

Thankfully, in his energetic states, Mingyu wasn’t one to pay attention to others. He mainly focused on burning off the energy as efficiently and quickly as possible, this had always been his main goal since he started dating you, a human who he knew had to sleep at night. He was always set on making sure he was back to his usual humane self before at least sunset arrived so you could rest. Blinking, you leaned back on the edge of the pool and rested your head back, closing your eyes in the process. You listened closely to the sounds of Mingyu splashing excitedly in the water and the occasional cool breeze blowing through the trees you had planted. Unfortunately, you didn’t hear your playful hybrid boyfriend slowly approach your resting figure, a cheeky smirk showing his white teeth in the bright sunlight. He raised his hand before placing them on your shoulders and shoving you under the water.

It took you a few moments to comprehend what just happened, struggling back up to the surface and coughing out for air as soon as you were in reach of oxygen. You wiped your face, pushing any hair from your hair with a huff, opening your eyes to glare at your boyfriend.

“Kim Mingyu!”

[oneblueumbrella]

The Silver Stud pt. 2

For @savvyblunders, who was the most enthusiastic about the continuation of this story. Soon to be on AO3.

{1}

Bloody hell, he was meeting Mycroft for a drink. The thought had dogged Greg all day Friday and a considerable part of the preceding day, too. He’d never thought Mycroft would be interested in him, and then one night the man himself just walks into Greg’s office and announces he’s gay, and by the way he’d quite like a date. Well, more or less.

Either way, Greg would be meeting Mycroft at a pub he’d never heard of, in a part of town he only frequented if someone had managed to get themselves stabbed.

Assuming that would not be the case, Greg was quietly panicking all day. At first he was doing a general ‘I have a date’ panic, which quickly morphed into ‘we’d better not pick up a murder’ panic as the day wore on. He might not get another shot at this, and if Mycroft was in the same state as he was, an excuse might be just the thing he was hoping for in order to cancel this whole event.

Just as Greg was worrying that Mycroft might have someone knifed to specifically to avoid their date, Sally stuck her head in his office door.

“Boss?”

“Yeah?” he answered distractedly.

“It’s five o’clock. Get your arse out of here, will you?” She grinned at him and he returned it as he grabbed his things and bolted. More than once a case had appeared between his office and the tube, and he was not going to be that unlucky sod. Not today.

Greg’s mind wandered all the way home and through his shower-and-a-shave routine. Before he knew it, he was standing in his bedroom wondering what to wear. Pants and socks, he’d managed without too much thought – little chance of Mycroft seeing those tonight.

Dressing for a pub was easy. Dressing for a date, also easy. Dressing for a date in a fancy pub was way beyond his comfort zone. The clock ticked inexorably by as he pulled out and considered almost everything in his wardrobe, despairing at his own lack of interest in clothes.

Finally, when the clock told him he had to get moving, Greg went by his old Academy roommates’ maxim – dress so you feel good. He chose his favourite dark blue shirt and navy blazer, with dark blue jeans. The jeans were made to fit his arse, so he’d been told, and the shirt and blazer combo would get him into all but the swankiest of pubs. If he was rejected from the place Mycroft had chosen, he didn’t belong there anyway. A quick spike of his hair – the silver stood out bright against the last of his holiday tan – and he was ready to go.

The place looked exactly as intimidating as Greg had imagined. No grungy side alleyway, no grotty windows plastered with posters advertising bands. No, the front of this pub screamed money and discretion. Greg wondered if anyone ever asked the barkeep to switch the telly to the football, or ordered the cheapest bourbon sight unseen. Unlikely, he thought, shoving his hands in his pockets as he stared at the tasteful gold lettering proclaiming Quirinus. Sounded like some kind of Roman God or something, Greg thought to himself. Not something he was too familiar with.

“Good evening, Greg,” Mycroft’s voice came from behind him.

“Hi,” Greg said, spinning around hastily.

“I see you found the venue easily enough,” Mycroft said.

“Yeah,” Greg replied, feeling dumb as an ox. Could he say nothing more intelligent? It was probably the sight of Mycroft, as dressed down as Greg had ever seen him.

“You’re not wearing a tie,” Greg said, feeling his cheeks redden at the obvious comment.

“No,” Mycroft allowed. He smoothed one hand over his waistcoat, a deep blue with some kind of tiny crosshatched pattern. The white shirt visible above it was crisp and perfect, and Greg wondered with a jolt whether Mycroft had changed from his work attire for their date. It would certainly bolter his confidence to think so, given the hand wringing that had accompanied his own dressing for this evening.

“You’re staring, Greg,” Mycroft’s voice admonished him gently, and Greg’s cheeks flushed even further.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “Never seen you in less than full battle dress.”

Mycroft’s eye brows rose at the description of his usual three piece suit tie and accruements. “I’m usually going into battle,” he replied.

“Not tonight?” Greg asked, a smile tugging at his lips.

“It seems not,” Mycroft replied. “Shall we?” he indicated the door, and Greg turned to enter. There was a bouncer, dressed in a suit worth more than anything Greg owned for sure. He eyed Greg before catching sight of Mycroft.

“Good evening, Mr. Holmes,” he said with a slight bow. Greg stared in astonishment as the door was opened for them. Only the gentle pressure of Mycroft’s hand on his lower back reminded him he was expected to walk through the opening.

The bar was exactly as Greg imagined many pubs looked on the day they were built, and then never again. Gold fixtures, deeply polished woodwork, every surface impeccable. The leather seats of the booths were gleaming, and he knew without checking that the floor would not be sticky with the remnants of some long spilled beer.

“May I buy you a drink, Greg?” Mycroft asked as they approached the bar. They had beer on tap, Greg saw with relief – better the safety of a pint than trying to navigate an intimidatingly long wine or spirits list.

“Pint of bitter, thanks Mycroft,” Greg replied. The barman poured their drinks, passing the beer to Greg and a white wine to Mycroft.

“This place is amazing,” Greg said, turning to survey the room. The room was comfortably full without being crowded, and he noticed quite a lot of well-dressed men. All well-dressed men, come to think of it.

“Mycroft,” Greg asked him casually, “is this pub….”

“Similar, yes,” Mycroft replied, leading the way towards a recently available booth. “The tables here are not as sticky, however,” he added as they slid onto opposite bench seats.

“True,” Greg replied. “It’s all very clean, actually.”

“The clientele at this venue are screened rather closely,” Mycroft admitted. “Anyone is free to join, and there is no cost; however only members and their immediate guests are permitted. As you can see,” he swept one arm around the gently pulsing room, “rowdy behaviour is not tolerated.”

“A well behaved gay bar, then,” Greg replied, feeling like the term was a slight oxymoron. His experience had obviously been at the seedy end of the spectrum. He sipped at his beer. “Is this where your group usually meets, then?”

Mycroft flushed at the mention of his social group. “We did initially meet at this bar. I believe it was one of the regulars who proposed it as a way of...”

“Meeting people?” Greg suggested.

“Yes,” Mycroft agreed.

“It can be hard to meet someone,” Greg said. “Anyone, really, around work. Especially when you’re looking to meet another bloke. It always has to be arranged, never seems to just happen.”

“I understand what you mean,” Mycroft said. “Work can be all encompassing.”

Greg wasn’t sure what to say. The last thing he wanted to do was start talking about work. This was meant to be a date, nothing like their previous meetings. Most of them had revolved around Sherlock, another topic he wanted to avoid tonight.

Greg’s mind raced, and he watched Mycroft play with the stem of his wine glass. Those fingers, he thought ruefully. His brain could not possibly find a new topic of conversation while Mycroft’s fingers did such suggestive things to the poor innocent wine glass.

Nope, there was nothing for it. He’d have to respond to the work comment.

“And it’s hardly a topic for conversation,” Greg added, hoping Mycroft would remember what they’d been talking about. “Assuming it’s something I can talk about at all.” He shot an amused glance at Mycroft. “I expect that’s something you can relate to.”

“Indeed,” Mycroft’s response was swift. “Some…men find it hard to accept that it is simply not appropriate for me to discuss my employment.”

“Yeah,” Greg said, his eyes still fixed on the fingers running up and down the slim glass stem. Christ. “I’ve had a few ask for favours. Ever had that happen?”

“Oh yes,” Mycroft agreed. “One odious man asked if I could have his neighbour’s garage demolished so his swimming pool would not be shaded in the summer.”

Greg snorted a laugh, relieved their conversation was moving again. “How charming.”

“Unfortunately this group did not turn out as I had hoped. While there are a few individuals I could potentially enjoy a cordial conversation with, none appealed for a more personal connection.”

“Lucky for me,” Greg said. Mycroft’s blush was adorable, he decided, watching the pale skin flame into a rosy glow.

“My mother remains disappointed,” Mycroft replied.

“As does mine,” Greg told him.

“But you were married.” Mycroft said. Greg could see the slight wince at such a brazen comment slipping out.

“Past tense,” Greg told him. “Clearly my fault for not fulfilling my wife.” The pain of that particular conversation with his mother was still fresh, and their relationship was still strained by her accusations.

An awkward silence fell again, and Greg kicked himself for the bitter words. Neither the time nor the place to start complaining about the ex, you idiot, he berated himself.

“I’m sorry,” Mycroft murmured.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure she thinks bi men are incapable of settling down with a woman. Or a man,” he added. Fuck. Also a not-so-good comment. He wanted to focus on Mycroft, not his pathetic past.

Shaking off the melancholy this conversation was bringing on him, Greg sat up and smiled at Mycroft.

“So this is more your speed than The Silver Stud?” Greg asked.

“Definitely.” Mycroft replied immediately. “May I ask what you were doing at that bar?”

“Meeting a mate,” Greg said easily. “I knew Rob before I was married and he’s very much into that kind of scene. I told him I’d meet him wherever he wanted and I think he took that as a challenge.”

“So it is not your usual haunt either,” Mycroft said.

“God, no,” Greg replied. “This place does me just fine. I usually go to the pub around the corner from work, or there’s one nearer home. Kind of like this but less clean. Somewhere you can get a bowl of chips and the football on.”

Mycroft nodded. “Somewhere comfortable.”

“Exactly.” Greg said. “The Silver Stud is a lot of things, but comfortable is not one of them.” He drained the last of his pint, wondering if he should order another. Mycroft’s glass was empty, and he had made no effort to replenish it. Glancing over at Mycroft gave him his answer – the man was looking at his pocket watch. Ready to leave, then. Greg ignored the stab of surprised hurt at the realisation.

Am I boring him?

“Well thanks for the drink, Mycroft. I don’t want to keep you.”

“Of course, Greg. Thank you for meeting me.” Mycroft stood immediately, ever polite as Greg slid from the booth.

“No problem, it’s a great place.”

“I can introduce you to David if you’d like to apply for membership. I would endorse you, of course.”

“Really? Thanks, I’ll think about it.” Greg replied. He didn’t want to intrude on Mycroft’s social space. Nothing worse than having to avoid somewhere in order to avoid someone.

They both stood awkwardly beside the booth. Christ, Greg thought, what the hell am I even doing?

“I’ll call you,” Greg said, then realised, “Actually, I don’t have your number.” It was awkward to ask for Mycroft’s number, he thought – presumptuous. “I’ll see you around.” He hesitated, then added, “I had a great time, Mycroft.”

He smiled briefly, the answering lift of Mycroft’s mouth far more automatic than happy. Greg left the pub, bracing for the cold night air. The date had just…ended, and he wasn’t really sure why. 

Wrapping his arms around himself, Greg started walking home, wondering what Mycroft’s deal was.

[agentjoannemills]

trimberly prompt! trini is failing biology and her parents somehow get queen bee kimberly hart to tutor her?? trinis ready to burn her house down with kimberly in it but she learns kim is actually really sweet? and really kind and patient and holy shit shes even prettier up close. the small ball of Teen Angst slowly develops a crush (not that she'd ever say that out loud) and gayness ensues.

Hey! Sorry for the delay. Here you go! (unsure whether i actually followed the prompt but this is where the story went i’m sorry i still hope you like it)

(also on AO3)

The last thing Trini wants to do when she gets home is to talk to her parents. She just really plans on sneaking in, avoiding as much a fuss as possible, and holing up in her room until it’s time for dinner.

Unfortunately, nothing goes according to this plan.

When she enters the house, she’s greeted by the sight of her parents sitting on the couch, obviously waiting for her, and she tenses up on instinct.

Her grip on her bag’s strap tightens when she sees an official-looking envelope on the coffee table, and oh fuck, she really should have just climbed in through her bedroom window instead.

Her mother’s gaze is hard and unforgiving, and her father’s is somewhat apologetically disappointed, as if it’s his fault she’s going to receive a good, long reprimand from his wife. It is for this reason that Trini clenches her jaw, putting on her big girl pants and rallying every ounce of her willpower to not flinch and to accept what’s going to happen.

She refuses to back down from what appears to be an inescapable punishment for her own carelessness.

“Sit down,” her mother orders, and Trini obeys without argument.

The silent judgment continues for several long seconds, but Trini doesn’t show any sign of discomfort. She’s not going to give them that satisfaction.

Finally, after what’s felt like forever, her mom huffs an annoyed breath and pushes a sheet of paper towards her. “So this came in the mail today.”

Trini picks it up. Yeah, just as she thought. The B– glares at her from the page, the red ink like a death sentence.

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” Her mother’s tone is getting a dangerous edge now, riled up with Trini’s non-expression.

“What do you want me to say?” she asks, evenly. “It’s not a failing mark.”

“It’s not an A either!”

“Now, swee—” her father tries to defuse the tension, but her mother is having none of it.

“No! You keep letting her get away with whatever she’s doing, and it’s getting out of hand! She needs discipline!” Her mother glares at her. “You need to pick up your slack! You won’t be accepted in any good colleges if your grades are like this!”

“It’s a B, not the end of the world,” Trini says, and it is a very, very bad move.

“Don’t give me that attitude!” her mother nearly screeches, before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. When she looks at her again, she’s forcibly calmer. “You need grades higher than this, so you need to study harder. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Good. Now, your teacher says you do well with lab activities but not with the written exams. So I arranged for you to have a tutor. Maybe having someone else checking over your work will help you improve.”

Trini blinks, hearing the words but not processing their meaning. “What now?”

Her mother carries on as if she didn’t speak. “You know the Harts, they have a daughter who’s apparently in the same class as you. Do you know Kimberly? I asked her mother if Kim could spare an hour or two a day to help you out, and she said yes. Kim’s also agreed, she’s such a sweet little thing. Very polite. Pretty, and smart to boot. You’re going to meet with her here starting tomorrow, after her cheer practice.” Her mother nods, satisfied with her pitch, and as usual not giving Trini any chance to object before standing up and ending their talk. “I expect you to be in your best behaviour.” Then she walks away, leaving her and her father staring at each other.

“What just happened?” Trini asks, bewildered.

Her father sighs, looking about as defeated as ever. “I think you just got a tutor.”

Well.

That’s not good.

That’s not good at all.

//

“You probably should head home now,” Zack says, brows furrowing as he stares at the setting sun. “You don’t want your mom to be even more pissed.”

Trini scoffs, raising an eyebrow at him. She’s lying on the hood of her car. “Since when do you care about that?”

He shrugs. “Hey, I’m just saying, if you hit a few more of her buttons, it’s not gonna be pretty.”

“I know that.”

“So go. Be a nerd and study.” He scrunches his nose, as if disgusted. “And whoa, I can’t believe I just said that non-ironically.”

She laughs. “Yeah, it’s probably a cold day in hell, huh? Zack Taylor, King of Detention, just told me to study. I feel so blessed.”

“Shut up. It’s just that if your mom gets on your case even more, it’s gonna be real hard for you to escape and make it to our bonfire nights.” He crosses his arms. “I don’t wanna lose my drinking buddy to academics.”

Trini sighs, because for once, she knows Zack is right. Her mother’s been watching her like a hawk since yesterday, and it’s going to get worse if she fails to show up on time to the damn tutoring session. “Fine, fine. I’m going.”

“It couldn’t be that bad, right?” Zack says. “It’s just Kim.”

“She’s the head cheerleader.”

“Yeah, and I’m Zack Taylor.” He rolls his eyes. “No duh.”

“Fuck off, you know what I mean.”

“She seems good.”

“That’s ’cause you’re thinking with a different head.”

“Okay, now you’re just being mean.”

“I’m always being mean.”

“Play nice.”

Trini smirks. “Never.”

//

For the most part, Trini actually finds Biology a pretty interesting subject. Perhaps not as fascinating as chemistry and physics, but she can appreciate the rote learning needed in many of its topics; memorisation might not be the best way to gauge intelligence, but it sure does pay to have some piece of information immediately at the tip of her tongue.

It’s intellectually stimulating, when she really pays attention. It’s challenging to learn all about neurotransmitters and every bump in a bone and cardiac rhythm. Every diagram she draws must be accurate; otherwise, what’s the point, right?

So yeah. It’s not that she hates the subject; she just doesn’t like it as much as the others.

But with this tutoring issue in her immediate future, she just might learn to hate it with all that she is.

Tutoring itself won’t be that much of a problem, if it’s in school. At least there, Trini’s got some form of control unhindered by the anxiety that her parents’ mere presence evokes. But that’s out of the question, obviously, and what’s more, her tutor’s going to be Kimberly freaking Hart.

Of course Trini knows she shares the same class with the head cheerleader. It’s kinda difficult to ignore that fact when every time Kim enters the classroom, everyone watches with rapt attention. She’s never alone, with their schoolmates always seeking her out and begging for her to notice them.

It’s ridiculous, is what it is—the way the entire student body seems to fall on their feet at Kimberly’s every whim—and Trini decides to hate her on principle.

(“You know that’s a lie,” Zack said when she told her about it. “Your little gay heart just can’t handle that much beauty without overheating.”

“Shut the fuck up, Taylor,” she said, because Zack’s an ass and he knew nothing.

In all likelihood, Kimberly Hart has no damn idea who the fuck Trini is, and Trini sure as hell doesn’t care either way.)

Anyway. Yeah. Trini’s not a fan of her tutor, which is why this whole tutoring thing is probably never gonna work.

//

Scratch that.

This whole tutoring thing is definitely never gonna work.

When Trini gets home, the first thing she sees is a pink Audi parked in the driveway, and her stomach flips on itself.

Shit.

//

Trini just about freezes on the spot when she sees Kimberly freaking Hart sitting like a goddamn Disney princess in her middle-class family’s living room, beside Trini’s mother, the both of them sipping tea from the good Chinaware reserved for holidays and for guests her mother wants to impress—which apparently includes Angel Grove High’s resident queen bee.

Trini is not blind. She knows one of the reasons Kim’s such a popular girl is because her beauty honestly transcends the mortal plane. Her hair’s luscious and falls in gentle waves, neat and classy, even after she cut it off to shoulder-length. She’s got the jawline of a goddess, and her tan skin is smooth and looks soft to the touch. Her clothes fail to hide just how defined her muscles are—Trini knows because she’s seen her running around in those squad uniforms that barely leaves anything to the imagination.

But Kimberly’s eyes are what captivates her the most.

Her eyes remind Trini of hot chocolate on a winter night, warm and comforting; she could almost smell woodsmoke from the fireplace, could almost hear the flame crackling and the sound of leaves crunching underfoot, could almost see wolf’s fur shining beneath the moonlight. Kim’s eyes are compelling, magnetic, not taking no for an answer.

She looks up at Trini with those damn eyes, and her smile?

Fuck.

Her smile is like a flickering shadow, like an illicit affair, like bourbon at 3:00 a.m.—thrilling, electrifying, demanding one’s utmost devotion.

Trini internally curses and bites her tongue.

This is shaping up to be a huge fucking problem.

//

Trini’s mother leaves the two of them after shooting Trini a glare that warns her of another lecture in her immediate future and profusely apologising to Kimberly for Trini’s lateness. Kimberly just smiles, saying it’s fine, and “It’s my fault anyway, cheer practice ended early and I probably should have waited a bit before coming over.”

(And Trini’s mother just about looks on the verge of singing Kimberly the Ave Maria, honestly.)

When they’re finally alone, Kimberly stands and offers Trini her hand. “Hi, I’m Kim.”

“I know,” Trini says. It’s rather rude, she realises, and she sighs. “Sorry. Yeah. I know who you are. I mean.” She clamps her lips together before digging herself further into mortification. “Trini.”

And when she shakes Kim’s hand, she just about spontaneously explodes, because she’s correct and Kim’s skin is indeed soft to the touch, holy shit, and it’s like holding a silk glove that’s got electric currents running through each thread.

“I know,” Kim says, her eyes laughing, but not taunting. At least Trini doesn’t think so. But it’s quite difficult to think at all when that smile is freaking directed at her, full blast. It’s like a nuclear weapon or something, all white teeth and charm, like it’s a goddamn toothpaste commercial. “We do share a class together.”

Right. “Yeah.”

“So?”

“Hmm?”

“Let’s begin?”

“Oh.” She huffs, staring at those endlessly dark eyes, but not without effort. It’s freaking hard to act all high and mighty when you’re literally just barely over five feet.

It gets even more of a challenge when you’re faced with the walking personification of grace and beauty and you start acting like a fucking gay mess.

But that’s not relevant as of now.

Right.

“Let’s,” she says, dropping her bag unceremoniously on the couch before plopping down. She rummages through her stuff to get her notes and textbooks.

“You know,” Kim says, settling down uncomfortably close to Trini, “I was sorta surprised when my mom told me I’m gonna be tutoring you.”

“That’s my mom’s fault, sorry.”

“No, I mean—” Kim shrugs. “I was surprised that you needed a tutor at all.”

Trini hums, noncommittal. “Why’s that?”

“You’re always on top of the experiments and lab reports, even though you’re unbelievably quiet during discussion.” Kim releases this breathy chuckle that sets Trini’s heart racing without permission. (It’s annoying.) “I’m pretty sure you even beat me by three points in last month’s project.”

That stops Trini in her on-going campaign to avoid Kim’s eyes as much as possible. Instead she meets her stare directly, proud of herself for keeping her voice level. “You remembered that?”

Kim appears a bit flustered, and she’s the one to look away this time, but Trini’s too busy looking at the flush in her cheeks to think about the reason behind it. “It’s pretty hard to forget when I really did my best for the project only to be beaten by the quiet girl always lurking in the back of the room.”

“I do not lurk.”

“Sure, Trini,” Kim says, and god if Trini doesn’t find that the sound of her own name coming from Kim’s lips is like some sort of music.

If this is just the beginning, Trini’s not sure how sane she’s gonna be by the end of this torture.

At this rate, probably not sane at all.

//

Trini is surprised to find that she’s actually enjoying herself, talking with this popular pretty girl whom she’s already judged without even really knowing her. Trini realises how much of a jerk thing that is, and she tells Kim so.

“I have to admit,” she begins, tapping her pen on a particularly tricky question, “I pegged you as a typical head bitch.”

Kim doesn’t look offended; instead her eyes seem to sparkle with amusement. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Trini shrugs. “You know, the head cheerleader stereotype perpetuated by the media and brought to life by the American youth almost without fail.”

“I was like that, not long ago,” she says, voice soft.

“What happened?”

Kim smiles. “Met some people who made me realise I could do so much better.”

//

“See you tomorrow, then?” Kim asks when it’s time for her to go, her voice low and like a secret promise, washing over Trini like the velvet of a morning storm.

Trini tilts her head, a smirk playing on her lips. “See you tomorrow,” she says, and Kim’s answering laugh will quench her thirst for days to come.

So. Maybe Zack’s got a point about her little gay heart, after all.

Dammit.

//

Kim’s a pretty patient instructor, launching into the sort of detailed explanations that Trini wouldn’t have been able to come up with on her own. Her work is organised, all clean lines and neat handwriting, and her arrows and diagrams make sense in a way at which their textbooks fail. She doesn’t rush Trini into understanding the numerous concepts, and has instead worked out that Trini works better when there are other things happening around her. So Kim talks about other things while Trini figures out molecular evolution and evolutionary synthesis.

//

“Fascism is an ideology relying on the argument of power and not on the power of argument,” Trini says, not looking up from a heart diagram. “Morality and logic are things not really taken into account when dealing with fascist agenda.”

She’s not really sure how she finds herself talking about things not at all related to biology—or even science in general—with Kim, but by the time she realised they strayed too far off topic, it’s already too late. They’ve already covered, amongst others, the politics of eugenics and even the socialist revolution—a discussion that comes so out of left field that Trini wasted a couple of seconds staring into Kim’s eyes before formulating a response regarding the development of revolutionary syndicalism.

//

“Here.” Kim throws a small box at Trini, who easily catches it.

Trini examines the box. “What’s it?”

“Just open it.”

Trini does, and she takes out a fidget spinner. “Wha—”

“You can use it whenever you want help focusing,” Kim says. “I can’t very well talk to you while we’re taking exams, but that’s a decent alternative. That way you have another outlet when concentrating.”

“I—” Trini swallows past the emotions balling up in her throat. “Thank you,” she says.

If Kim noticed the waver in her voice, she doesn’t mention it. “You’re welcome.”

//

Early the next morning, Trini leaves a box of glazed doughnuts on Kim’s windowsill, along with a cup of coffee—black, extra shot of espresso, no sugar.

//

Kim waves at her in the cafeteria later, a huge smile threatening to split her face in two, and a hush falls over the entire area.

//

“Why are people looking at you?” Trini asks Zack.

Zack laughs out loud. “They’re not looking at me, Crazy Girl,” he says, grinning like a maniac, “they’re looking at you.”

//

She sees Kim talking to Jason Scott, star quarterback, in the bleachers. They are leaning too closely to each other, their touches gentle and familiar. She sees Kim smile at something Jason says, and Jason grins when Kim throws her arms around his neck.

Zack comes up behind her, flinging an arm over her shoulder. “Come on. I got some booze from last week’s gig. Shitty and probably tastes like piss, but I think that’s appropriate, no?”

Trini pulls her beanie lower over head, allowing Zack to stir her away.

Shit and piss sound about right for what’s roiling in her chest.

//

She only talks to Kim during their tutoring sessions after that. She stops seeking her out, avoids running into her in the hallways.

If Kim notices, she doesn’t mention it. She’s good at not mentioning things, anyway.

They both are.

//

The fidget spinner never leaves Trini’s pocket, even though she’s tried to throw it away several times.

(She sleeps with it in her hand.)

//

A week later, Trini wakes up to someone tapping on her window. She sits up immediately, eyes widening when she sees it’s Kim, holding on to the sill, bobbing her head to signal that Trini should really move and open up now before she falls down.

So Trini lets her in, backing away immediately when she remembers that she’s only wearing pajama shorts with sun prints and an over-sized NASA shirt.

“Why’re you here, Kim?” she asks, mumbles really, eyes trained on her carpet, arms wrapped around herself.

“Are you ever gonna tell me what I did wrong?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Kim scoffs. “That’s bullshit.”

Trini snaps her head up, glares at Kim. She tries not to notice that Kim’s still in her sleepwear too—matching pajama set, with spaceship prints—though she fails splendidly. She also fails in not noticing that their clothes weirdly match. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” she asserts.

“Then why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m no—”

Kim doesn’t hesitate in cutting her off. “If I hear another lie from you, I swear to god I will throw you out your own damn window, Trini.”

“What do you want to hear?”

“Just the truth,” Kim tells her, eyes imploring, voice cracking, and it stabs right at Trini’s heart. “Just the truth, please.”

And Trini will never let herself be the reason Kim breaks down, will never be able to deny Kim anything, so she gives her what she wants, regardless of any possible fallout.

At this point, she’s got nothing to lose anyway, except perhaps an almost that can never be.

“Remember when we talked about how soulmates are probably those whose atoms were next to each other in the big bang?” she asks, and she almost smiles at Kim’s confused frown, probably wondering where the fuck Trini’s going with this.

“Yeah?”

“They’re drawn to each other because they came from the same burst of light, from the same corner of the universe. They have the same stardust in their bones.” Trini sighs, half a laugh, half a sob. Her fingers dig into her own skin. “That’s you for me, Kim.

“Oh,” Kim says.

“Please just go,” Trini pleads, because one more second and she’s going to fall apart.

But Kim won’t let her be. “No, no, I’m not leaving.”

“Kim, please—”

“You said your piece, and now you’re gonna listen to mine.” Kim walks towards Trini, and Trini’s vision is blurry with unshed tears. Kim’s hand is soft on her jaw, tilting her face up, and then Kim is pressing their lips together, and Trini’s entire world shifts on its axis.

“What—” Trini begins when Kim draws back.

“Your star made me,” Kim says, her voice now sure and steady, and Trini’s entire being is cradled in her hands, “and galaxies swirl in your eyes, and I’m on earth falling in love with you.”

//

Later, when their lips are sore from too much kissing, Trini explains why she’s been avoiding her.

“Trini,” Kim says, fond and exasperated at once, “I was asking him for advice on how best to tell you what I feel.”

“Oh.”

“Next time, whenever you have questions or doubts, talk to me first, okay?”

Trini buries her face into the crook of Kim’s neck, and Kim’s arms tighten around her. “Yeah, okay.”

//

“That must have been a pretty dumb star,” Zack remarks, after Trini told her what happened.

Trini socks him on the arm. “Shut up,” she says, but she doesn’t stop smiling, and she doesn’t let go of Kim’s hand.

Kim’s laughter sounds like golden sunlight, bathing Trini in the glow of home.

they’re big nerds, i love them so much

[bearwithegg]

~ Sam Drake x OC ~ FORGED.

A/N: Hey guys! So i’ve published this Sam Drake Fic on Quotev and Wattpad, i’ve had this idea for a while now and because im Sam drake trash i thought i’d deliver to you all this fic. NOT EDITED. I also refer to Sully in third person as Sullivan, like idk why I just do. Anyway without further a-do here it is! 

Part 2   Part 3  Part 4

Blurb: 

Samuel Morgan had a reputation, not only around the Orphanage he grew up in but the sister orphanage several blocks away; Sister Margaret's. He caused fights, disrupted the peace and was caught doing illicit activities on the building grounds. Believe it or not, he never truly used to be as much as a delinquent, in fact his behavioural changes date back ten months ago when he met Melissa Bridges. As innocent she may seem, her bad influence on Sam caused quite a turn of events in his life, some good, some bad, some ugly. But when it came down to it, Samuel and Melissa were always there for each other.

One: A Bad Influence.

Every day, like clockwork Samuel Morgan would peer out his window and look beyond the gates of the orphanage where Melissa Bridges walked by, her hands always shoved into a denim vest that looked miles too big for her. It covered what appeared to be a pale pink dress -as Sam noted- she always wore and worn boots that hardly looked like they fit her any more. Her hair was tied up neatly in a ponytail, her lengthy dark thick hair always bouncing from side to side as she strode. Some days Melissa was accompanied by groups of girls, other days she would stride on her lonesome but regardless alone or not every day at Midday she would pass the Orphanage.

It confused Sam, considering Sister Margaret's was in the opposite direction and there was seemingly nothing in the direction she headed, yet if he wasn't so chicken shit to do so he would find a way out and talk to her. He spent months watching her, understanding her routine. On weekends she would walk by not just at midday but she would wander by again late at night between seven and nine. The few times he mustered the courage to leave, he got as far as out the window before deciding against it. Despite slight behavioural issues he was top of the class, rarely did anything out of line despite the occasional fist fight between others. This being one of the reasons why he tried to stay in line and out of trouble... for the most part.

One night in particular however, Sam decided he was finally going to do it. Go beyond the gates and finally speak to Melissa, a girl he only knew from months of observation. Did he know her name? No. Did he know anything about her? No. Did he know her eye colour? No, certainly not he's only ever been at a distance that he recognised her only by her clothes and hair. But despite this, he found it intriguing. He wanted to know why she would walk back and forth, where she was heading, what she was doing, how she managed to slip past the nuns at the girls orphanage. If they were anything like the nuns at Saint Francis, it meant trouble for her.

His watch beeped and he took a deep breath before opening the window and letting the cool Saturday night breeze fill the room. The others would be attending dinner in the hall at this time of night which is why he decided to make a break for it, while no one was around. He had a clean record...ish... So if he got caught he would merely be told off... He hoped. He vaulted himself from the window and dangled over the ledge, he had rehearsed how many times he would do this in his head weeks leading up to this particular night. It wasn't a special night or anything, simply the night Sam decided to finally 'grow a pair' and talk to her.

Sucking in a breath, he let go of the window sill and dropped down a few feet hitting the brick roof of the lower level. Some of the slates cracked under the sudden strain however it absorbed most of the sound, his heart beat quickened and he chuckled to himself, "I'm actually doing this." He shook off the nerves, the thrill of potentially being caught hung in the back of his mind as he scaled the side of the building. Reaching the main buildings roof, he stopped momentarily, his arms burning from the sudden intense activity.

On the streets below, like every Friday and Saturday evening, Melissa walked the dirty streets. Her head down and hands jammed in her pockets. Leaves crunched under her boots, the boots that bought her much discomfort considering they were two sizes too small for her. She sighed to herself, rounding the familiar corner where Saint Francis orphanage stood, it was always much more peaceful to pass it in the evening given that similarly to Sister Margarets, Dinner was around this time.

This night however, as she finally walked past the orphanage she couldn't shake the feeling of being followed. Something lingered behind her, more so, someone. She cursed to herself not wanting to turn to see the figure, she just knew that there was someone lurking. Many scenarios crossed her mind, perhaps it was a nun that had followed her out of the orphanage, they were always watching her like a hawk and it didn't surprise her if it was, but they would've had her by the ear now. Or, it could be a drunken stray from the pub she passed a block ago, this occurrence was regular. Of course in her experience the drunkards were quite lovely and just wanted company on their journey home.

Or... it could definitely be someone not as kind as the drunken strays and not as merciful as the nuns. That thought crossed her mind too, it often did. She was young, regardless of looks and attire she was on her lonesome which made her a vulnerable target. Or so many people thought. She was sure someone was following her, their footsteps would stop every time she did. Around the corner there was less street lights, making the street look dark and menacing however she was unbothered by it, like she was unbothered by a lot of things.

She waited in anticipation as she stopped just shy of the light under the street lamp. Waiting momentarily she counted to five quietly to herself before whipping her hands out of their pockets, spinning and sucker punching the figure behind her. Her knuckles connected to the strangers face and she kneed them where the sun don't shine, causing them to groan and stumble backwards in to the light. "Oh shit." she uttered, apologetically after catching a glimpse of the person she punched. Just a kid from Saint Francis.

Despite being punched by her, Sam couldn't deny she was as attractive close up as she was at a distance. He glanced through his eyelashes and noticed her bright green eyes, tanned skin and plump lips. He had seen a lot of girls in his time, but none that were quite like Melissa. Physically and mentally.

Samuel Morgan had just been sucker punched by a girl, that would be quite the story to tell his younger brother Nathan. He was stunned as he held the side of his face in a dazed state, did that actually happen? Unfortunately for his ego, yes indeed it did happen. "Crap, sorry my bad..." Melissa's face softened as she stepped slowly to Sam, "I thought you were following me." she justified finally in front of the boy. "Uh I mean... yeah I was... well no, not like that, I mean- I uh- just put me out of my misery and hit me again." He stumbled on his words making Melissa chuckle, she put a friendly hand on his shoulder and looked at his face wincing at the sight.

"You're uh, that kid... from Saint Francis?" She clicked her fingers once recognising his freckled face in full detail among the blood and bruising. He stood up properly, for months he always imagined what it would be like to finally meet the strange girl, but none of the scenarios he thought of began with her sucker punching him. He chuckled and scratched the back of his neck, "there's a lot of kids at Saint Francis you're gonna have to be more specific." His tone was laced with a hint of sarcasm, a trait he was blessed with.

Melissa rolled her eyes lightly, "Uh... Samuel something, right?" she tilted her head on the side and shrugged. "Samuel something?" Sam repeated, a smile pulling on this sides of his lips and she nodded, "you're top of the class, right? I know you because our history papers got graded together and I know for a fact that you almost got a higher mark than me." She raised her eyebrows, a mischievous smirk on her lips. Sam looked at her, in awe almost. Her frame was highlighted by the street lamp behind her and my was it a sight to see. "You must know a thing or two about history to beat me." Sam chuckled, he shifted awkwardly unsure what to say, this night was not panning out like he had planned.

"Only a little bit." She smiled, gesturing with her pointer finger and thumb. "What's your name, sorry?" Sam asked clearing his throat, it was a start to say the least. "Melissa, but you can call me Mel... Follow me, I know somewhere to get your face all cleaned up pretty boy... once again... sorry." She apologised once more, digging her hands back into her vest pockets and took off on a stride.

Sam was stunned to say the least, he shook his head but followed her, he wanted to know everything about her, she was strange and Sam liked it. "So...." He trailed off, walking in sync beside her. "Where are we going?" Was all Sam could think of, yeah real smooth. He wanted to hit himself and knock himself out, why was he so mundane? "I uh - I watch you - I mean, see you sometimes walk past the orphanage..." Melissa looked to her odd new companion, a smile tugging on her lips.

"You've never been outside the gates before have you?" She grinned slowly, Sam frowned and put his hands up defensively, "Of course i've been outside the gates before-." She cut him off and shook her head, "no, outside the gates without supervision and outside of curfew." Getting an ashamed shake from Sam, her grin grew wider and she had a bounce in her step. "Well Samuel-."

"Sam, you can call me Sam." He corrected her and she continued, "Well Sam, when we get you cleaned up are you ready to have the most fun you're ever going to have whilst living in this shit hole?"

Sam thought for a moment, the nagging at the back of his head, the rules he was currently breaking would mean severe consequences, but the rush and thrill of it all was so appealing. "Hell yeah." He commented enthused, kicking himself for being a little too enthused. She quickened her pace and motioned for Sam to pick up the pace as well.

Melissa was an addict, a thrill addict. Although she went to Sunday mass every week with the other orphaned girls and went on bible retreats it was a facade. She craved adventure, close encounters and thrill seeking. On this particular night was when she started Samuel Morgan's addiction to adventure. Deep down the feeling was always there with him, even his younger brother. The stories their mother would tell them before bed, the artefacts and trips they went on was all there, aching to break free and it finally broke free within Sam.

And there was no turning back for him.

[kumoriyami-xiuzhen]

Hakuoki Hana no Shou Hijikata After Story Translation Attempt

My attempt at translating the “ Hakuoki Shinkai Hana no shou Stellaworth Early Reservation Bonus’ HIjikata Toshizou short story [ 「薄桜鬼 真改 華ノ章」ステラワース早期予約特典　ブロマイド 土方歲三] from Chinese to English with lots of editing and mtl help...

The Shinsengumi oni-tan drama is going to take a while to translate since i’m worrying more about accuracy since the recent translations i added to my list were only available as jpgs... and none of the text extractors i’ve used have been able to extract an error-less version of all the words... also doesn’t help that the text is really small on these images so on some of the more complicated characters just can’t be replaced by me rewriting the word on google by hand... *sigh*. 

On a side note, please check out my updated tumblr page since I put together a list of some of the Hakuoki dramas that I’m looking for as I translations for them (”Stuff I’m looking for” creative title, i know.). That list will probably won’t be updated anytime soon since anything I don’t have the audio for (in relation to the dramas anyway) has a very low priority for me to work on.

-------------------------------- 

Hakuoki Shinkai Hanashou Stellaworth Early Reservation Bonus Hijikata Toshizou After Story 

Translation by KumoriYami

A few months after the Republic of Ezo's surrender to the new Meiji government-

The man known as the demon vice-commander, former Shinsengumi vice-commander Hijikata Toshizou has been living in a secluded house in the mountains.

Hearing of the Meji era's turbulence, but here, such tension cannot be felt/ (Despite) hearing of the Meiji era's turbulence, such change cannot be felt here.

“Hijikata-san.... No, Toshizou-san, it's time to get up. It's almost noon.”

He heard someone calling him from beside the bed.

Her name was Yukimura Chizuru. Due to unfortunate circumstances, she lived with the Shinsengumi and had continued to follow Hijikata to Ezo, eventually becoming his partner [the translation doesn't use the word 'wife' here].

"Really, quiet down [Hijikata probably says 'shut up’ here]. It's just oversleeping a bit. It's not like (I) have anything to do anyway/there's anything to do anyway.

Hijikata did not rise from bed and bluntly spoke.

"Although that's true..." 　 Chizuru softly muttered, then quietly whispered.

"........Hijikata-san has changed."

"Really?"

Hijikata gently rolled over to her side. He glanced at Chizuru who was now looking at him with a bewildered expression.

He looked up at the ceiling, muttering to himself.

"When I was vice-commander, the schedule was full everyday, and it was impossible to sleep for a long time/sleep in."

"Because the Hijikata-san then would blame/get upset at those who overslept."

Recalling their time in Kyoto, Chizuru laughed.

"That so..."

Although it hasn’t even been a year since the end of the war, it felt like more than a decade ago.

He believed that he had done his duty as the Shinsengumi's vice-commander together/along with Kondou-san, fighting as (true) warriors until the end. (Though) Nowadays, it was not good to reminisce about the secular world.

(I don't know/wonder how the surviving members are doing now...)

He heard that Shimada, Souma, as well as Saito, survived. According to rumours Souma had surrendered to the new government as the chief/representative of the Shinsengumi.... that is to say that the Shinsengumi surrendered.

Because of the new government's surveillance, we were unable to get in touch with them and could only hope that the name “Shinsengumi" would not become a hindrance/burden to the surviving members.

(I once thought that as long as I could die in battle, I would die without regrets...)

As Hijikata thought of this, he turned his gaze to Chizuru who was at his bedside.

At least now he can still live like this, just because of her(/At least now he has a reason to live because of her).

"Toshizou-san...?"

Noticing that his expression seemed a bit lost , she worriedly called Hijikata's name.

Wanting to dispel the embarrassment he felt, he reached to put/pull Chizuru in his arms.

"Eh...!?"

With a yell/yelp, she fell to the bed.

"Tha-that, Toshizou-san!"

Because of his abrupt behaviour, she couldn't help but yell/scream/raise her voice. Although they have been living under the same roof for a few months, it seemed like she was still not used to this.

In order to hold on to Chizuru who was trying to get up/away/escape, he tightened his grasp.

"What's wrong? Is it strange for a husband to treat his wife like this?"

Hijikata secretly smiled to himself at her reaction, asking her slyly.

"(It's) not strange... but, the food is going to get cold."

"Isn't it better to heat it up later? Compared to this..."

Having spoken, Hijikata made such a suggestion as he peered into Chizuru's eyes.

In his eyes/opinion, Chizuru seemed to be embarrassed as she lowered her eyes/gaze, though he did not see any signs of rejection.

Hijikata narrowed his eyes, seemingly urging her for a kiss.

Chizuru's ears were red as she whispered shyly.

"That... Toshizou-san, it's still day time?"

"What about that? There's no one watching."

"Isn't not that there is no one watching...."

Chizuru fell silent after she spoke/after Chizuru finished, they fell into silence, Hijikata held her before him, and kissed her lips in a predatory manner. 

He then used the strength of his arms, tightening his grasp on her, to ensure that she could not escape as he deepened their kiss.

She seemed a bit bewildered at first, but then Chizuru also began responding to his kisses. Hijikata felt that she was very cute. 　 When their lips finally separated, Chizuru seemed unable to move and leaned on Hijikata.

“Really, you'd (think that you would) be used to this by now?”

His teasing words made Chizuru speak up/respond with indignation.

"That's because Toshizou-san always moves so abruptly. It wasn't like that before..."

"This is the real me. There's no burden (for me) to bear, no need to wear the mask of a demon anymore."

No matter what happens, she will not leave Hijikata - this strength and determination of hers is something that she has shown him countless times.

After, Chizuru buried her face into Hijikata's chest and spoke/replied.

....Regardless of how Toshizou-san looks/appears/is, I love it/you.

Such words/this sentence was/is the sweetest honey in the world, so Hijikata thought.

End

———

I’ve been able to translate a tad faster since I recognize more words now (though it’s a bit harder for me since i grew up learning traditional characters and the simplified ones make my head hurt at times... so i’ll be dragging my feet on some things)... but without the audio (in any Chinese dialect) my speaking ability isn’t really going to improve... *facepalm* 

i also just noticed that i made errors in the two toshizous drama subs... im going to blame the hai toshizo vid for those errors in spelling..... ah ha ha.... oh well. T.T idc enough to fix it...also I can’t translate the 9th biyroi since I can’t access it...also havent bothered checking which ones are inaccessible to me either..  *sigh*.

[yoongiwyd-stop-blog]

The Doctor's A Joke

(This is another one shot from my Wattpad cos I haven’t gotten around to writing anything new yet ㅠㅠ fuck you @ writer’s block)

Pairing: Namjin

Word Count: 2800+

__________________

“How’s your number one favourite patient coming along, hyung?”

Seokjin stopped picking at his plate of kimbap and sat back in his seat, lips pursed as he looked up at the younger doctor sat across him, who had half a jelly doughnut stuffed in his mouth, icing sugar coating his lips.

The older frowned at his blatant disregard for table manners and flicked a brown coloured napkin at him. Taehyung grinned his infamous box grin as he picked up the serviette, allowing Seokjin a glimpse of the mastication taking place in his mouth.

“Pig,” Seokjin commented half heartedly, setting his chopsticks down onto his plate. “And he’s not my favourite. But he’s fine, I guess. I believe that he’s improved significantly. A little less erratic now and more subdued with his actions. His brain patterns are more reoccurring too which shows a broader possibility of him being released.”

Taehyung swallowed his doughnut before leaning forward on his elbows, the napkin now crumpled in his right hand. “You really believe Kim Namjoon will ever see living daylight again?”

Seokjin arched an eyebrow, shrugging. “I don’t see why not. That’s what every patient is here for, aren’t they? For recovery with the hope and chance that one day they will be able to live normal lives and interact with society once again?”

The younger shrugged, picking at the other half of his doughnut, now oozing bright red calorific jam onto his plate. “Don’t get me wrong, hyung. I have hope for so many in here. Unfortunately, Kim Namjoon doesn’t fall into that category.”

There was a way that Taehyung spoke that told Seokjin there was a specific someone the former had hope for, an image formed in his head and Seokjin smiled a teasing tilt of lips, leaning forward on his own elbows as he wagged his eyebrows.

“Talking about that little patient of yours, now, are we? Your favourite. What was his name? Joonki? Junghee?”

A diluted pink painted itself across Taehyung’s cheekbones, barely noticeable against his rich tanned skin but nonetheless existent, much to the older’s amusement. The former rolled his eyes, pulling away from Seokjin and crossing his arms across his chest defiantly, a poor attempt to exude dominance and confidence.

“It’s Jungkook and yes, he does fall into that category.” Seokjin cooed, poking his dongsaeng’s nose with an outstretched double jointed finger, noting how he didn’t deny that Jungkook was his favourite patient. Taehyung rolled his eyes, swatting the former’s intrusive finger away with an icing sugar dusted hand. “But come on, hyung. The difference between them is unmeasurable. Jungkook’s like a child—scratch that—a bunny, who wants to get better, if you don’t count that nasty split personality of his. Namjoon…he’s a monster who’s biggest interest is to probably burn down this hospital. You know what he’s done and in all the time he’s been here, he’s never shown a shred of remorse.”

Seokjin exhaled loudly through his nose, shaking his head to clear the muddling thoughts that threatened to dull the hope he had for his patient. As a doctor, it was one of his jobs to hope for the best for his patient as long as there was hope to be found.

The watch around his wrist began to beep lowly, alerting him of his upcoming appointment. Seokjin stood, pushing his plate of half eaten kimbap towards Taehyung for him to finish and smoothed down his standard issue white coat. “There’s a reason then, why Jungkook is on the third floor and Namjoon is on the eighth. But it doesn’t change the fact that they are still both patients. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got an appointment.”

He spun on his heels and quickly made his way towards the elevator, promptly ignoring Taehyung’s cheeky ‘good luck and have fun’. He flashed his level clearance identification card to the stoic white haired guard that was stationed by the lift before stepping into the small four walled elevator, immediately catching sight of his—daresay—earth shattering good looks in the reflective mirrors.

The ride to the eighth floor was accompanied by generic elevator music—that would have been a possible factor of insanity if it was listened to for long periods of time—and the gruelling groaning of the gears of the elevator.

Seokjin stepped out of the elevator and into a crisp, clinical white hallway, greeted by a metal sign that read “CRIMINALLY INSANE” and a guard’s booth to his left with a wall of metal bars adjoined to the booth on his right, the only entry and exit out of this ward.

He displayed his identification card again, watching the guards flip through a book to verify Seokjin’s appointment before letting it swing against his chest on his lanyard when the familiar buzz of entry rang throughout the hall. He nodded courteously at the male guards regarding him from inside the booth before pushing the metal bar door open and stepping through.

The heels of his shoes made muted taps against the rubber flooring, silently mouthing the numbers displayed outside the doors of each patient’s room until he stood outside the room 9409.

Seokjin raised his hand, clasped into a loose fist and knocked on the door twice before pressing his card into the security access scanner on the wall beside the metal door. He waited for the automatic shifting of the locks as the scanner recognised his card to complete before stepping into the room, eyes keen as he searched for the person housed in this room. He found the blond haired man sat crosslegged on his bed on the other side of the room, a book in his hands a look of deep set concentration scrawled onto his face.

A part of Seokjin regretted having to interrupt his previously private moment of reading but treatments and talking had to be done and neither would be able to efficient with a book in Namjoon’s face.

His mouth opened in greeting but before a single word left Seokjin’s mouth, the blond looked up from his book, the concentration wiped clean on his face like a blanked canvas. For a brief moment, the latter was caught off guard by the sudden change in his expression, slightly amazed by how quickly Namjoon could go from looking so immersed and taken by a work of literature to as flippant as a balloon cut of its string.

“Hello, Dr. Kim.” Namjoon’s tone was pacified and casual, as though Seokjin was a good friend who had dropped him a surprise visit at home rather than his room in a hospital for the mentally disturbed.

“Hi, Namjoon. I’ve said before, it’s okay if you call me hyung. Much less formal and relaxed, don’t you think?” Seokjin mused as he shut the door behind him. He hadn’t missed the way Namjoon’s dark eyes flickered to glance at the metal door with a slight satisfaction before meeting Seokjin’s steady gaze once again.

“I’ve forgotten. It’s been too long since you last visited me. Sorry, hyung.” Dark eyes twinkled with an indecipherable gleam as his head cocked to a side. On certain occasions such as this, Seokjin felt as if he were the patient being observed instead of it the other way around. He tried his hardest to appear unaffected to the inquisitive blond, keeping as calm and indifferent as he could but something small inside of him told him that Namjoon saw through his facade like it was polished glass.

The blond always seemed to know something about Seokjin—be it his thoughts or his actions and reactions—before he knew it himself and the thought of that made the latter waver slightly, the confidence he usually held himself with and security he normally had with his other patients dwindling.

With other patients during their sessions, Seokjin was sure he was mentally dominant, in charge and assertive of the situation but when it came to his weekly Wednesday 4 o'clock appointment on the eight floor with the patient in room 9409, he found himself equal and once, challenged.

Kim Namjoon was no ordinary patient that any of the doctors that attended to him could directly match and refer to the volumes upon volumes of psychology textbooks. He was a special case—one Seokjin had to adjust and accustom himself to and intended to write a full chapter on.

It was a game of chess: every move from both ends calculated and in anticipation of the other’s decisions.

The raven haired doctor strode over and sat in the metal chair positioned by the bed, crossing his legs and allowing his arms to swing freely at his sides as Namjoon scooted closer to the edge of the mattress, his fringe flopping messily as he moved. They regarded each other silently for a brief moment before Seokjin spoke, diffusing the tension.

“It’s only been a week since you’ve last seen me.” he chuckled. “What’s on your mind today, Namjoon?”

“Not murder and arson, if that’s what you’re worried about, hyung.” the blond chuckled, his eyes crinkling as dimples made an appearance on either side of his mouth.

“The thought never crossed my mind. But good to see you’ve maintained your sense of humour. Anyways, scratch that question. What were you reading?”

Namjoon pursed his lips, picking up the dog eared book beside him and thrusting it in Seokjin’s direction though not necessarily inviting the older to take it. Instead, the raven haired man nodded and peered at the cover without touching the book, a gesture that seemed to please Namjoon.

It was an English title Seokjin was unfamiliar with—not that he was an avid reader of English books (or books at all for that matter) except for one or two by Stephen King he enjoyed. “Its something written by Tennyson. The nurses thought they would reward me for good behaviour by lending me this book from the library for another 'creative outlet’ I could inspire myself with, apparently. I didn’t even know we had a library here.”

Seokjin hummed in amusement as Namjoon withdrew and plopped the book in his lap. “Keep up that good behaviour and you will get to explore that library.”

The younger scowled though Seokjin could tell it was playful in nature. “You make me feel like a five year old, hyung. Please, spare me the other condescending, downplayed crap the other shrinks in here attempt to feed me as if I’m not a full grown man with a college diploma. You’re the only one that treats me like a fully capable adult and I’d like to keep it that way. None of that 'keep it up’ or 'you’re doing great’ bullshit.”

Seokjin pressed his lips into a tight line, internally sighing. It was a sad perception that a number of hospital staff members had that the patients were mentally handicapped or children that needed to be spoken down to or coddled.

He regained his train of thought and smirked at the blond who frowned at the gesture, an elegant eyebrow arching questioningly. “You say you aren’t five but I have to smuggle candy in for you every week.”

Namjoon grinned, eyes sparkling as he further leaned forward, elbows braced against his knees. “What have you got for me today, hyung?”

“Hold on,” the older mused, searching for the packet of six Oreos he had bought from the cafeteria. He tossed the dark blue packet in the direction of the bed and watched as Namjoon snatched it out of the air, fluidly prying the top open and helping himself to the first cookie.

“Alright, let’s get the required Q&A bullshit out of the way.” Namjoon sighed, speaking around the half Oreo in his mouth and waving for Seokjin to proceed.

“Oh please,” Seokjin muttered, removing a small palm sized notebook from his coat, flipping it open and staring at the questions he had written down in preparations or his appointment with Namjoon days prior. “You liked being asked questions. Especially if they are about yourself.”

“True,” Namjoon mused, his expression turning thoughtful before a glint of mischief lighted his features. “Especially if they’re coming from you, hyung.”

Seokjin rolled his eyes, trying to brush of the words that had unexpectedly hooked themselves into his skin and mind. “And why is that?” he pressed, his tone and expression a mix between curiosity and sarcasm.

“Because,” Namjoon said, with the same expression on the other man’s face but somehow twisted into something a little taunting on the blond’s features. “When you ask me the questions you ask, you sound like someone who cares." 

Seokjin let the hand which held the notebook fall against his lap as a partially offended expression pulled itself onto his face. "Of course I care about you, Namjoon.” He said the words without hesitation or thought, perhaps a little to quickly as a slow smug, dimpled smirk tugged on the corner of Namjoon’s lips and Seokjin scrambled to make his sentence sound more appropriate. “What I mean is, I’m your doctor. You are my patient. Of course I care about you and your wellbeing. It is, after all, my job to do so.”

He fought the urge to look away or bite his lower lip, a bad feeling he had just moved his pieces wrong and landed himself in an appropriate position to be checkmated.

With slow deliberation, the blond set his packet of cookies down, wiped the corner of his lips for non existent crumbs with the pad of his thumb and set his feet on the ground so he was now perched at the edge of his bed, a little too close for the doctor’s comfort. Seokjin stayed rooted in his seat, however, refusing to give the other man the pleasure or satisfaction in seeing him shift or stutter.

The raven haired man knew that Namjoon could see the discomfort in his features and posture and quickly forced his expression into one of blank observation, his eyes following every move the latter made.

“No it isn’t, Seokjin hyung.” There was an almost sing song lilt to Namjoon’s words and Seokjin did not like it one bit. “Doctors are supposed to take care of their patients health, yes. Actually caring, not so much. I believe you are the only one that does.”

“Nonsense.” Seokjin waved off, his eyes unwavering. “I’m sure Dr. Min cares plenty about you.”

Namjoon barked a dry laugh, shaking his head as if at the latter’s apparent stupidity about what he had said of the other doctor assigned to him. “Dr. Min? Please. The man’s life phrase is 'I don’t give a shit. I don’t give a fuck.’ I’m sure he’s told me that at least twice.”

“Every doctor is different,” Seokjin persisted, refusing to cave into whatever little verbal stand off they were having. “Anyways, moving on—”

“Tell me, hyung,” The blond hummed, his expression growing more and more taunting. Seokjin narrowed his eyes before a strangled gasp tore its way from his throat as Namjoon lunged, one hand cupping the back of his neck as he pulled him closer to him. The doctor tried squirmed as he felt Namjoon’s breath caress his cheek, highly aware of the blond’s other hand that was placed on his thigh. “Does this make you uncomfortable?”

Speech and coherence left the raven haired man and he blinked thrice before a stream of blubbering left him, his hands bracing themselves against Namjoon’s chest and pushing. “Move away, Namjoon.”

The latter merely chuckled darkly, ignoring him and leaning forward so his nose skimmed Seokjin’s jawline.

A blush quickly flitted across Seokjin’s cheekbones, quickly coming to his sense when a flare of heat burned the skin beneath his collar and shoving Namjoon away with a grunt. The blond leaned away, fully composed with a wickedly satisfied gaze fixed on the doctor’s face.

“What do you think you were doing?” Seokjin spat, rising to his feet. He couldn’t tell if he was angry or unsettled—perhaps a mix of both? And if so, at whom—Namjoon or himself?

“What do you think I was doing, hyung?”

“I think you were trying to get filed for sexual assault to a member of staff.” The words were harsh and grating though the blond merely chuckled, pushing his fringe out of his eyes blatantly.

“It’s not assault if the other party is consenting.”

Seokjin scowled, smoothing down his coat. “Don’t be ridiculous. I am nothing else but your doctor. Once you pull your head out of whatever delusion its in, I will be more than glad to be your friend again.”

Namjoon’s eyes sparkled mischievously, leaning back against the wall and picking up his book once again. “There’s more than one type of friend, if you get my gist, hyung.”

“We are done here today.” the older said coldly, shaking his head in anger and disappointment. He turned around and took three large strides to the door before opening it, barely glancing back with a muttered: “Goodbye, Namjoon.”

His only reply was laughter.