#WAS ANYONE GOING TO TELL ME THAT THE SILHOUETTES IN THE LOGS ALL HAVE DETAILS

[tophats-tea]

drawing fanart everyday for Danganronpa: A New Generation until the First Episode comes out

Day 77: Shadows

Check out the fangan!

[milliedazzledust]

How you fall in love (Kol Mikaelson imagine)

Request from @jazziwritesthings : Could you write an imagine for Kol, where he wants to ask the reader to marry him?

Words: 2603

A/N: It kinda took a different turn from what I had originally planned, and I definitely had teary eyes writing this. Maybe I’ll do a 2nd part, I dunno yet -  Enjoy

The day had stated beautifully. Kol had decided to take Y/N on a date to one of her favorite place; the bayou. He never understood her attraction for that place but had put his judgement aside to make this day perfect. He had been planning this for the last two months, with the help of his siblings. He was excited, ecstatic even just to think about what would be happening, but also a little stressed if he dared to admit it. Mikaelson’s proposal mission, as Elijah had put it, was on.

« Are you sure this is what you want to do today ? » Y/N asked Kol as she slammed the car door. « We could’ve just stayed at the compound and enjoy a lazy afternoon »

They had just reach the border to enter the bayou.

« Love, for the last time, we are hiking »

« You don’t like to hike, Kol »

« But you do »

She smirked.

« So after all this time I’ve spent trying to convince you to come with me you chose today »

« Yes. »

« Why ? »

« What do you mean why ? »

He was trying his best not to look at her. She could read him like an open book and he was sure she didn’t need magic powers to know what he was thinking about.

« You are up to no good, Mr.Mikaelson »

« I don’t know what you are talking about, love »

« Sure you don’t » She rolled her eyes.

He laughed and took her hand in his, dragging her into the woods. It was a short road to a clearing Hayley had mentioned to him. Earlier that day, the woman had come to set a picnic basket for them. Her, Hope and Freya had had fun decorating the place with lights, balloons, flowers and candles. They had outdone themselves, it look like a scene from a fairytale.

Kol was walking a little bit too fast for Y/N’s liking. He seemed animated by an exhilaration she couldn’t understand. Usually, he would let her hike on her own, or with her werewolves friends, but would never come. He had told her on multiples occasions he didn’t like the atmosphere around that place, nor the company of a species he couldn’t stand. She had respected his boundaries and had never asked again, until two days ago when he came with an idea that both confused and surprised her; a hike in the bayou.

« We’re almost there » Kol told her.

« Where is there ? »

« I can’t tell you »

« See, I knew you were hiding something! » She proclaimed.

He laughed, shaking his head. He turned around, a snarky remark on the tip of his lips, when he noticed Y/N had stopped moving. She stood still, her back as straight as a rod. He could almost feel the tension emanating out of her.

« What is it ? » He instantly worried.

« We’re not alone » She whispered.

That’s when he heard footsteps, very close from where they were. The sound of crushing leafs on the ground was loud enough to be discernible by his vampire ears. He glanced at Y/N, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. As soon as he saw a silhouette standing at the edge of the wood, he instinctively pushed Y/N behind him, straightening up in a defensive stance.

« Who’s there ? » He yelled.

The stranger took a couple of steps toward them, revealing an impressive form. There was no doubt this man was very much in shape. Y/N took a double take at the size of his biceps and decided she did not want to piss off this werewolf, whomever he may have been.

« That’s a question I should be asking you » The man answered. « You’re on my territory »

« We’re just hiking! » Y/N quickly responded, hoping to appease the tension forming.

She knew about Kol’s temper, especially when it came to wolves. This could go terribly wrong if she did not diffuse it from the start.

« On whose authorization ? » He continued, his chest puffing with pride.

Kol rolled his eyes.

« Look, mate, this land belongs to the Crescent wolf pack, who happens to be ruled by Hayley Marshall, and you’re not one of them »

The man visibly tightened his jaw, starting to get angry. He seemed to sniff the air for a moment and Y/N glanced at his hands balled into fists.

« A Mikaelson » He spitted, recognizing Kol’s sent.

« And you’re not a werewolf » The vampire stated.

Y/N looked at him, surprised, then back at the man who was smirking. The old vampire, fed up with his attitude, had folded his arms.

« I’m a little more than that » He viciously grinned.

Kol raised an eyebrow then suddenly huffed and throw his hands in the air.

« Of course we had to run into one of Niklaus experiment »

His nonchalant behavior surprised Y/N who did not dare to talk anymore, scared she might say something that would throw off the stranger. Kol seemed to fulfill that task without her help beautifully.

« What experiment ? » She whispered to him.

« He’s a hybrid » He told her.

« A hybrid with a message for your brother »

«  Of course … » Kol grumped in annoyance.

With a movement of the hand, he pushed Y/N out of the way, anticipating the hybrid’s attack who launched himself at the vampire. His fist soon connected with Kol’s face, who landed on the ground in a matter of seconds. Bringing a hand to wipe the blood on his jaw, he looked at the molten-red color, before deciding he was definitely infuriated. The characteristics dark veins started to appear on his flawless skin and his sharp fangs stretched out of his teeth.

Y/N watched him lunged at the man at a fast speed, smashing him in the guts then dismantled his shoulder before shoving him on the ground. The hybrid let out a grunt of pain and got back up, putting his joint into place like it was nothing. He looked positively pissed off.

Instead of assaulting the Mikaelson, this time around he decided to go for Y/N. None of the lovers were fast enough to predict the action as Kol watched in utter terror the man’s hand plug inside her chest. There was no hesitation in his move, no doubt in what he was about to do.

« No, don’t! » Kol shouted.

This was his worst nightmare. After everything he had been through, all the centuries of torture, quarrels in his family and betrayals, this couldn’t be the end of the short happiness he had lived since he’d known her. With a wicked smirk, the man tightened his hold on the woman’s heart, ready to rip it out. Kol clenched his jaw, letting his anger consume him, turning into the psychotic manic anyone knew him to be not so long ago.

He grabbed a log of wood, tearing it apart and twisted it in his hand in just a fraction of second, ready to use his newfound weapon. Enraged, he impaled the man, perforating his lungs, making him shout in pain and lose his grip on Y/N. His eyes focused on his prey, with the sole determination of killing him, he took the weapon out, turned the man around in a swift movement, then plugged it back in his chest. Before his opponent even had the chance to react, he sank his fangs in his throat, making him scream in agony. With an animalistic growl he threw his fist inside the hybrid’s ribcage then tore off his heart. The dead man falling at his feet, he looked at the useless organ in his hand, satisfied, before letting it fall on the ground with a thud next to the body.

« Kol … » He heard a voice call behind him.

His back stiffened, realizing she was still here and had seen that part of him, the coldhearted ripper. What was supposed to be the best day of their life had taken a dark turn, reinforcing his convicting that the Mikealson’s were indeed cursed and incapable of happiness.

« Kol! » She called again.

Again, he did not answer. He heard her take a step toward him and turned his bloodied face to look at her.

« Are you alright ? » He whispered.

« Yes » She answered, looking him up and down. « Are you ? »

He pursed his lips.

« Let’s go » He simply said in a cold tone she was sure she didn’t like.

Before she could even answer, he started walking ahead of her, furious. She did her best to keep up with him but the man was taller and stronger. She rolled her eyes at him, annoyed by his behavior. Why was he mad at her after she was almost torn apart by a wolf ?

« Kol, wait up ! » She shouted, almost running to catch up to him.

He huffed but didn’t slow down. Fed up by his attitude she stopped on the track, refusing to take one more step before he explained himself.

« What the hell is wrong with you ?! »

« Nothing! » He yelled.

« Obviously » She answered back with irony.

Angry for a reason she couldn’t understand, he turned back and walked to her.

« Why can’t we just have one day, ONE day, without being chased by Niklaus fucking enemies! »

She folded her arms, raising an eyebrow at his tantrum.

« It that was this is about ? Klaus ? »

« What ? No! Of course not! »

« Kol, you’re not making any sense right now »

He sighed and brushed a hand through his hair in frustration.

« Why are you so mad ? » She asked softly, hoping to appease him a little.

« Because of this! » He vehemently shouted, pointing at the werewolf not far from where they were. « This wasn’t suppose to be a near death experience! »

« Then what was it supposed to be ?! »

« A proposal! »

« … what ? »

He pursed his lips.

« I had everything planned, down to the last detail » He revealed. « I wanted it to be perfect. We were supposed to come here and take a walk through the woods just because you like them so fucking much. There was a picnic ready for us on that hill and the girls put so much effort to decorate it for you »

He went on and on sounding extremely disappointed, not even noticing Y/N was startled by the information he didn’t realize he had let out.

«  …and that werewolf wasn’t part of my plan, because who in their right mind would ask someone to marry them in the middle of a bloody fight ? But you know what, maybe Elijah was right, maybe this family is not meant to be happy»

« You were going to propose ? » She whispered, astonished.

He looked back at her, finally realizing what he had just said. Cursing himself, he closed his eyes, not wanting her to see how affected he was by all this.

« I wasn’t supposed to say that » He muttered.  

They stared at each other, one of them dumbfounded, the other heartbroken by a fate he thought he family chose for him when they were cursed centuries ago. He wanted to say something, anything, but didn’t know where to start. And before one of them could speak one word, it started to rain. They did not move, still facing one another, still trying to read invisible words, understand imperceptible feelings, as the water started to soak them up. He knew he didn’t need to say anything when he saw a tear roll down her cheek.

« What changed ? » She simply asked, her hair and clothes wet.

« Everything »

« But you love me »

« I do »

« Doesn’t that count for anything ? »

« Not when you’re a Mikaelson »

His heart broke at the sight of her tears.

« Kol, please … »

« There will be others. There’s always others »

« We’ll fight them »

He shook his head.

« Have you seen what I did back there ? »

She didn’t answer, remembering the violence of that man’s death.

« I don’t want you to witness any of that » He confessed, his voice shaking with emotion. « I don’t want you to know that man because that’s not who I am anymore »

« What are you saying ? » She asked in a whisper, almost afraid to know the answer.

« I’m saying there are … things in this life I don’t want to give up, things I wish I could keep with me for the rest of my life, but I can’t »

The realization of what he was implying almost knocked her out. Before this sudden confession, rain used to bring her peace. There was a serenity, a sense of peace with each droplets that she could no longer feel in that moment.

« I’m saying I love you, Y/N » He whispered, his hand gently stroking her cheek. « and I’ll love you until I die, and if there’s life after that, I’ll love you then. »

She slapped his hand away, the tears now running freely on her face.

« You can’t do that, Kol, I won’t allow you to destroy what we have because of some made up curse you think the world has brought upon your family »

He didn’t seem to listen to her and instead took her head between his hands, forcing her to look back at him

« You have to know I did my best to keep you away from this madness » He confessed, his eyes watering. « But this life, this … violence is not what I want for you »

« You don’t get to decide for me »

« Y/N… »

« No! You think I don’t know what this is Kol ! I know that look ! I’ve seen it before ! I know what you’re trying to do and I won’t let you! »

« I have no other choice »

« You’re a coward, Kol Mikaelson! » She yelled, pushing him back with all the force she could muster, making him fall.

She could barely breathe and her body had started to shake. From the cold or the emotions, she didn’t know.

« This » She said, crying out and pointing at Kol and herself. « This is worth fighting for and you know it but you’re taking the easy way out, you’re giving up! »

« I’m giving you a chance to live, Y/N ! » He shouted back, throwing up his hands in frustration. « Can’t you see that ?! »

« All I see is you, breaking my heart »

This time the tears ran down his eyes.

« Why ? » Was all she had the strength to say anymore.

« In our worlds, with our enemies, a bond as strong as what we have will be considered a threat and be used against us, love » He started to explain.

Taking her hands in his, he kissed them before kissing her forehead.

« You are an echo, Y/N, my anchor in a brutal world, with the power to tear down walls I have built so high and deep. So though i need you, want you, love you … I most likely have to walk away »

A sob escaped her mouth, instantly making him regret everything he was saying and doing and he cursed himself a thousand deaths for the pain he was causing.

« I hate you » She murmured.

« No, you don’t. And I hope one day you’ll forgive me »

Suddenly, the wind seemed too cold and standing in the rain, Y/N never felt so vulnerable and powerless. This was selfish and beneath anything he had ever done. The growing pain was already unbearable as she stared back at him. She was sure his last words would play over and over again in her head. She knew she’d never be able to stop loving him, even with a broken heart. Every single part he was stealing of her, he was making it impossible for her to put it back together. She would remain empty without him, an unfinished puzzle with forever missing pieces.

[relaxxattack]

(this is like 1.3k words btw probably should have mentioned that)(I haven't reread this in like two weeks so gl)

Sometimes it's wise to not open your mouth. That was the first thing Ran had learned while traveling to the other world.

A few half-seconds after that, he learned that humans were a danger, and violent. Seemingly flinging their sloppily made weapons at any being they didn’t immediately recognize. He had to learn a lot of things in those few moments he had spent on that green filled-plain. He can still relay them in his mind, every now and then he finds an odd obligation to.

“Do you think I make a good general?” Jackie asked his otherworldly friend, the small man’s eyes tracing horizon in front of them. The calm lavender of the setting sun being clouded out of view by blooming rose-bushes.

Rule 1 is a lesson Ran finds himself relaying quite a bit.

Reassurances began itching themselves in the back of his throat, the small compliments of leadership and respect laying uncomfortably on Ran’s teeth and bitterly against his tongue.

An empty and distant “How so?” was what left his mouth in their place.

“It’s just,” Jackie's steps slowed for a moment. “I’m not a warrior, or- or even a soldier really. I just miss,” the general paused, stopping himself “God, I shouldn't have won that duel-”

“What do you miss?” Ran interrupted

Jackie hitched his breath and bit the inside of his lip, a flicker of pain sparking in his eyes “it's complicated.”

Human emotions were, with lack of a better word, odd. A single twitch of the eye or the wrinkle of the nose could have hundreds of roads leading to it, each becoming less and less paved as it got closer to its destination.

What further complicated this was that different expressions meant different things for different people, something that was entirely alien to the enderman, and something that took a lot of readjusting to become common to.

It was excruciatingly difficult with Jackie however. Often there were universal mannerisms that showed emotion amongst everyone. Small certainties that made Ran’s job just a little bit easier.

All of these practices had been thrown out the window at the sight of the general. Ran had been required to evolve a keen eye for pointing out when his friend became distressed. Perhaps it was the tenseness of his jaw, or the way he forced his shoulders down from hiding away his neck.

They were small things, for often a hollow grin left a stain on the blonde man’s face.

Something ached in the back of Ran’s skull “do you just not want to tell me?”

Jackie allowed his head to sag.

“I don't want to tell anyone really,” the young man explained with a nervous laugh, view craning downwards towards the hoard of daffodils that had begun to blossom over the garden-path.

They were beautiful things, blooming in honey and sugar bells, their undersides being highlighted in a golden orange as the light split through the petals.

There was something mesmerizing about them, the stems pinching through the cracks in the pavement and the soft, enclosed buds flopping over the smaller strands of green that kept them connected to the rest of the plant.

The blond boy held a lonesome nostalgia for when he would pick them from the line of their roots, growing through the gravel path in his old back garden. How he and his sister would split the flimsy stems in half and taste their sour insides, the clear, sugary liquid stickying the tips of their fingers and flecks of green getting inside their fingernails.

“What are you looking at?” Ran questioned, peering over the short general who had seemed to stop in place.

“They really are beautiful,” the young man answered.

“The daffodils?”

“Yes.”

“You do realize most gardeners consider them weeds?”

Jackie clenched his jaw and hit his friend on the arm a bit too roughly to seem playful “oh please, and you’re not a gardener now are you?” A forced, breathy chuckle came out of his mouth.

They were the small things.

That was yet another thing Ran had to figure out. But he’d get it eventually. He always does.

The smaller of the two quietly stormed away from his friend, kicking up granite and limestone off the ground as his feet trudged against the gravel, a small cloud of grey building up behind his heels.

The blond boy’s silhouette was outlined by a fractured golden rim as the sunlight filtered in through the gaps in between the rose-bush’s leaves, his shoulders seeming to quiver as they were strained down by his own mandatory will.

Ran paused, gazing at the lovely picture in front of him, the gorgeous oranges and reds lighting up the garden's foliage creating a pinkish purple reflection off the flora.

Something weighed down in the back of his chest. He wanted to see Jackie’s smile be genuine, at least for the rest of the night.

“They do look nice,” the tall one said, catching up to the small sunflower that had moved so quickly past him.

Jackie’s eyes softened and Ran felt something flutter behind his ears.

“You really think so?” He asked, looking upwards towards his friend.

“Definitely,” Ran answered.

The boy bit the inside of his lip, the corners of his mouth craning upwards into a grin “what do you like about them?”

Ran thought for a moment “,I enjoy how they grow in groups. No matter where they are, unless the rest were picked off obviously, you’ll never see one alone.”

“Do you have a favorite flower?” Jackie perched up on his tiptoes and poked his nose close to the enderman’s face.

“Um,” the creature said, flinching back slightly “I don’t, really, know any. Do you want to tell me some?”

“Definitely.”

“Well, continue then.”

Jackie lingered by his friend's emerald eyes for a moment longer, entranced by the way they seemed to be framed in sparkling jewels.

He had beautiful eyes, that was one of the things Jackie had learned.

The short boy pointed over to a field of purple flowers and began rambling about hybrids history and how they bloom. How they've evolved, how they’re perceived and what they mean. Another enderman creature came up briefly, something about bouquets and wedding venues although the conversation quickly changed pace towards the vines of ivy and grapevine that grew over the side of the building, the grape curling around frames with the ivy tracing the cracks between bricks.

They talked about flowers for the rest of the night, one going on tangents of pollination with the other humbly listening, wandering around the garden as ramblings of petals and pigment created a hum from the greenery.

It was a nice night, afterall Ran’s cheeks hurt from smiling for so long, and what night like that couldn't have been nice?

Just for tonight.

At least just for tonight.

---

It was important to keep logs of the day. Information discovered, things that should have gone unseen and private being filtered out through trails of citizens and roads leading to another realm.

The page with flowers sketched into the corners, however, was one that would be ripped out and hidden, stuffed into the back of a drawer neatly folded and left to read over later.

Of course there were a few pages torn at the seams. Ones that Ran knew neither he nor Jackie would have wanted to be discovered.

They were important, though. The self-doubt, a weak link that could be potentially valuable during war-time, not that Ran was 100% sure that the diplomat he had been newly assigned even knew they were fighting.

It felt like a quiver lined with something bitter, the archer firing arrow heads made of needle and flint with a bow string lit on fire.

The trickles of ink from quill to paper detailing strategies and lackluster qualities of the opposing side.

This is when he’d remind himself of Rule 2.

The most important point to be made.

I wrote this like 3 months ago so the pacing is a bit weird. but jackie is kinda out of character for a reason lol sleep deprivation and burnout will do that to you :]

its sweet though its so sweet im going all TwT rn.... awwwwwwweee

okay now i must return to my work prison (god its due soon and im doing just Horribly help hudvsjkmx)

[igirisuhito]

Title: Out of my mind Relationship(s): Kamukura Izuru/Naegi Makoto Rating: Teen Summary:  Naegi goes to confront Kamukura Izuru, based off their scene in dr3. For Kamuegi week Day 5: Scars/Future Foundation Trigger Warnings: Medical Trauma, Medical Abuse, Broken Bones, Dr0 References/Spoilers, PTSD

[Ao3 Link]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Future Foundation were kind enough to disclose all information that led to the Tragedy of Hope's Peak to its survivors. Naegi read through the files of the Hope Cultivation Project, the project that was being funded by the school's reserve course. The same event that led to its downfall. 

It was utterly petrifying to him. 

The fact that a talentless student would volunteer himself for such brutal experiments was unfathomable. He saw the logs of Hinata Hajime's descent into inhumanity, becoming a creature nobody could ever hope to perceive as a regular person. 

There were 3 surgeries in total, all additional operations were performed through electrical stimulus or injections of medication. The first one was a whole two days after Hinata had signed that contract, the aforementioned contract that had disappeared from the Biology building before it could have been recovered. Which was unfortunate, but they were already so lucky to have been able to obtain the Project's logs that nobody really cared about what had been lost. 

The first surgery was the one that scared Naegi the most. The severing of the connections between the prefrontal cortex and parts of the frontal lobe from the rest of the brain. Kirigiri had explained this to him simply, "They performed a leucotomy. You know what that is, right? A lobotomy?"

They'd learnt about it in highschool, surprisingly their years of education were the memories most easily recovered. Naegi never really paid attention to lessons in psychology. Perhaps he should have, as a knowledge in brain ablation somehow ended up being something he actually did need later on in life. 

The fact remained that this was the first step in inducing Kamukura's apathetic outlook towards life. This was where the despair began, the despair he wanted to reverse. But how can someone reverse the effects of permanent brain damage? It's impossible, right? 

Things seemed to only get worse the more he read. The thing Naegi hated most was how positive the post surgery notes were, as if what occurred was a miracle. 

The subject is responding well, his aggression has reduced and he has become more passive towards his doctors. The subject's anxiety seems to have been quelled and he has been dissociative and nonverbal. Fortunately, he is still able to use his vocal cords and form words, as evidenced by his reaction to pain stimulus.

He could only gag. The school Naegi admired so deeply was willing to do this to a human being? He couldn't force himself to imagine the student identification photo of Hinata bearing those same lifeless eyes of Kamukura. 

It was all so so fucked up. Enough to make him groan and slam his head down onto the desk, as if giving himself brain damage would fix Hinata's.

Naegi recalled Munakata placing a hand on his shoulder, interrupting the break he was taking from cross-examining the files. He had jumped on instinct from the sudden contact. Flushing in embarrassment at the fact someone has seen him act so childishly. 

Munakata hadn't seemed phased. He just looked over at the papers scattered on the desk, skimming, scanning. He spoke up in his rather gruff voice.

"They wanted you to read up on the destroyer of Hope’s Peak, right?" 

"Uh, yeah…" Sheepishly, Naegi nodded. "This guy had to be awfully messed up to volunteer for something like this."

With a loud click of his tongue, Munakata removed his hand from the boy's shoulder. He backed himself up to the table in which Naegi had been reading at, before lifting himself and sitting on the table. "No person would volunteer for this. He was manipulated by Hope's Peak and allowed despair to swallow him whole." 

Naegi sat up in response, awaiting elaboration from the Council President. 

"Hope's Peak obviously omitted the full details of what would happen to Hinata Hajime when he signed the contract." Crossing his arms over his chest, Munakata met Naegi's intense gaze with a sigh, sounding almost mad that Naegi couldn't read his thoughts. "Of course, most of the Future Foundation doesn't want you to think that. Hope's Peak academy was never the shining beacon of hope it pretended to be, it's platitudes were just worthless lies told to deceive."

"That's terrible!" Naegi cried, slamming one hand down on the table for emphasis. "Though, now that I think about it it makes a lot of sense that Hinata didn't know everything. But he still orchestrated the first Killing game, right? Why would he have done that?" 

"Actually Kamukura Izuru was framed by Enoshima Junko." Munakata sighed in a pompous manner that reminded him all too much of Togami. "Unfortunately, he woefully succumbed to despair, though it was indeed Enoshima who led him down that path. The sheer amount of murder he did go on to later commit proves that in reality he isn't redeemable."

"Framed…? So it wasnt Kamukura who orchestrated the first killing game?" 

"Of course not!" The older man hissed. "Do you seriously just believe anything anyone tells you?" 

Naegi's breathing hitched in fear as the other slammed his hand down onto the desk with much more intensity than Naegi had earlier. "N-no… I'm sorry…"

Munakata slid back off the table, causing it to groan beneath his weight. "You should be more careful, Naegi Makoto. It's purely luck that that blind trust hasn't gotten you killed yet."

Next thing he knew Munakata was gone with a loud slam of a door. God that guy was hot-headed. 

But he was wrong, about Kamukura, that is. 

For some reason that experience was all Naegi could think about as he looked at Kamukura's back. Stiff shoulders hidden beneath the black fabric of his uniform, dark hair billowing in the wind. He created such an eerie silhouette against the golden sunset in the background, beautiful, yet filling the other with a sense of trepidation and fear.

The man Naegi had spent the whole day searching for, of course he was in the last place he looked. He could almost sigh at how awful his luck could be sometimes. His feet ached from searching all around Hope's Peak, between all the different labs and even that freaky hidden room beneath the statue of the founder.

"Naegi Makoto. The Super High School Level Hope, also known as the former Super High School Level Good Luck." A monotone voice that sounded too close and too far away all at the same time suddenly broke the silence. "You've come on orders to kill me."

All that trepidation was causing Naegi's hands to shake from how tightly wound up he was. The sound of someone else's voice made him flinch. "H-huh?! You know?" 

"Of course I do." Kamukura spoke again, now tilting his head to the side to glance back at Naegi. "It's not that I'm omniscient, I just bear the talent of the Super High School Level Analyst."

It was strange to have his mind read before he even got the thought completely through. Naegi squashed that feeling down, opting to focus on the task at hand.

He cleared his throat, attempting to still his nerves. "If you knew this, why aren't you running?" 

"Hm?" Kamukura turned himself around, now offering his complete attention to Naegi. 

Naegi shivered under those piercing crimson eyes, they bore an even brighter colour than that of Ishimaru or Celeste's eyes. They seemed to target him and lock on like a rifle, loaded and ready to fire at a moment's notice. 

"Do you honestly believe that you can kill me?" 

The breath seemingly disappeared from Naegi's lungs. He drew his hand over his mouth to muffle the faint whimper that escaped his lips. Kamukura's aura was overwhelming, an aura of pure superiority and death. 

This whole situation reminded Naegi of his own execution. The pure despair coursing through his veins. The way Monokuma grinned at him. The loud pounding of the press behind him that shook his body from head to toe. 

Ah, that was the sound of his own heart beating uncontrollably. 

"My presence is bringing back unfortunate memories for you. I apologise, I am aware that you are not here to actually kill me." As if sensing Naegi's fear, Kamukura spoke slowly and clearly.

The other boy nodded slowly, refusing to take the hand from his mouth as stinging tears threatened to spill from the corners of his eyes. His blood was rushing in his ears, drowning out all sense, overwhelming him with the pure power that was Kamukura.

Kamukura stepped towards him, a move that startled Naegi more than it probably should have. He stepped backwards in turn, but quickly set his foot down on a small and unstable piece of rubble. Instead of Naegi launching off to run, his ankle rolled at an unnatural angle.

Naegi yelped as he fell forward, his forehead barely grazing the dirtied ground. He quickly rolled over, desperately shuffling backwards and away from the older man whilst attempting not to hurt himself any further. 

"Hey, listen to me! Calm down."

His body froze completely upon hearing the command. Kamukura touched his own lips in thought, a little confusion at his sudden break in character. He briefly pondered if his past emotions were through from standing in the classroom of 77-B.

But he deemed the thought unnecessary, for now, instead focusing back on the boy in front of him. "You're here to offer a compromise, are you not?" 

Naegi sucked in a quick breath, grateful for the reminder of what he was actually here for. Unfortunately the pain from his ankle was really beginning to set in, he needed to make this brief. Nodding quickly, he attempted to regain his composure. "Yes. I know I couldn't kill you even if I wanted to. But I don't, you deserve a chance at redemption."

"I cannot be redeemed. I was created to be a tool, I have no free will and only act on the orders of others." Kamukura spoke bluntly, tilting his chin up a little. "Your redemption means nothing to me."

Naegi paused. He was expecting this kind of answer, the kind Togami gave him when Naegi said he forgave him for his actions in the killing game. 

"Huh? I don't want your forgiveness. My actions are always justified." He had said. The memory brought a little smile to his face. 

"Okay then." Tilting his head up, Naegi showed that smile off to Kamukura, as if showing him a sign of peace. "Would you like to know more about Hinata Hajime?"

"The previous inhabitant of this vessel? Why do you believe he would mean anything to me?" It was phrased less like a question, and more like an expression of confusion. As if Kamukura didn't really care about the answer, that he already knew the answer, he just didn't quite understand why Naegi Makoto, of all people, would have any interest.

"Because you're here." Raising his right arm, Naegi gestured vaguely around the room, before wincing and putting it back down. "Why would you come to a classroom full of students you didn't know to replace the flowers for Nanami Chiaki? The girl who was Hinata's best friend, the girl you murdered."

Kamukura's brow furrowed. He began to move in large calculated strides, right up to where Naegi sat, before leaning over him in a display of authority. "So you are smarter than you seem."

It was difficult to tell if it was Kamukura or Naegi who had let down their guard, perhaps a mix of both. But a small detail like that didn't bother Naegi, as his smile only widened beneath Kamukura's attempt of showing power. He had him, that much was obvious.

"Well, Kamukura-kun? Why are you here?" 

Kamukura pursed his lips for a moment, thinking to himself for a second, before answering the question. "Because being here makes me feel despair."

He curled his fingers into fists and glanced away briefly, sighing as he realised he would have to answer the inevitable question. "There are a few places in this world where I feel emotions. The classroom of 77-B, the Reserve Course building, and the third floor of the biology building."

"The third floor of the biology building?" As he thought to himself, Naegi unconsciously brought his hand to his chin. "That's oddly specific."

"The neuroscience institute." Kamukura elaborated. 

"Oh…" Naegi moved his hand up to his mouth again, feeling a mix of sympathy and horror. 

Of course he would feel despair there. After all, that's where Kamukura would have been made, where he would have been tortured and experimented on. Had his brain destroyed and enhanced over and over to produce the perfect hope. 

Where Hinata Hajime… died.

"It's an odd feeling, emotions. The emotions I experience from being in these places are perhaps the only reason I'm still here. That and the fact I have nowhere to go, no purpose left in a world without Enoshima." Kamukura began to mumble somewhat as he rambled on. 

Jeez, at least let Hinata rest in peace. 

Naegi bit back the thought, shaking his head and reminding himself of what he was really here for. "Come with me then. If you want to experience more emotions, then I can show you the Neo World Program." 

There was a slow blink as Kamukura processed the offer. "The Neo World Program?" 

"Yeah! We put it together using research from the Super High School Level programmer, therapist, and neurologist." Naegi grinned excitedly as if he was talking about how proud he was of his own child. "It's a simulation that allows people to live out peaceful days filled with hope." 

Kamukura blinked again. "The Super High School Level Neurologist, Matsuda Yasuke?" 

"Yes?" 

Those crimson eyes narrowed to near slits. "The childhood best friend and love of Enoshima Junko?" 

"...yes?"

"Who developed the method that was used to wipe your highschool memories prior to the Killing Game?"

For a moment Naegi paused, unsure of how to answer that one. "I…guess so?" 

Crouching down onto his haunches, Kamukura leaned in even closer to Naegi. "So you are using memory erasing technology then?"

Naegi leaned back a little, uncomfortable as Kamukura's hair brushed against his face. "...Yes." 

"And, assuming you're placing all of Enoshima's protégé's in this program, you'll have about 15 students?" 

"Yes, if we manage to convince them all..." Naegi's a voice dropped a little, finding himself suddenly a little more insecure about his plan. "I don't mean to interrupt but… where are you going with this?"

Kamukura was almost shocked at how naive Naegi was, especially considering he had been the one to end Enoshima. Or was he just stupid? "I'm merely baffled that you would sacrifice your own health for the sake of people you don't know. People who are murderers."

It wasn't a complete lie, most people would not have such considerations for criminals, people who had committed crimes as heinous as the ones the remnants had committed. 

Naegi noted the lack of emotion in his voice. "You don't sound baffled…" 

Ignoring his comment, Kamukura nodded. "I'll participate. I'll make sure the others do too."

"Wait, you will?!" Whilst sitting up a little too excitedly, Naegi put pressure on his ankle, sending pain shooting up his leg. He winced and laid back again. 

"Don't do that. Your ankle is broken." Letting out a bored sigh, Kamukura straightened himself back up. 

"B-broken?!" Naegi's eyes widened to near saucers in shock. "I thought I just twisted it… Am I seriously that unlucky?" 

Kamukura began unbuttoning his black uniform jacket, earning a strange look from the other as he slid it off his shoulders. He then proceeded to fold it in half and kneel back down next to Naegi's broken ankle. 

The other boy watched in awe as he tied it tightly, using it as a makeshift splint to prevent Naegi's ankle from moving too much. "Y-you're too kind Kamukura-kun… much more so than I anticipated."

"I'm doing this purely out of necessity. Nothing more." Kamukura muttered as he tightened the knot, causing Naegi to hiss in pain. He then proceeded to slide his left arm under the boy's knees and right arm under his back, nestling snugly at the base of his spine. 

"Wait wait wait wait wait what are you-?" 

Kamukura lifted Naegi up, causing him to wrap his arms tightly around Kamukura's neck in alarm. "Y-you're carrying me?!" 

"It's not as though you can walk." Kamukura sighed exasperatedly. He was having no issues with Naegi's weight, his panicked yelling, however… 

"B-but I'm heavy…" Naegi refuted, loosening his grip a little when he realised Kamukura wasn't going to hurt him. 

"You weigh less than most girls, in accordance with your height." Kamukura spoke bluntly, scanning his eyes over Naegi's form. 

"H-Hey!!" 

"You're easily flustered."

"Don't tease me!" with the heat rising in his cheeks, Naegi buried his face into Kamukura's chest in hopes of hiding his embarrassment. "I get enough of that from Togami-kun!" 

Kamukura shuffled Naegi in order to give himself a more stable hold before walking out of the classroom. Naegi grumbled into Kamukura's chest, pulling himself even closer.

"You're also easily placated. I do not understand how you've managed to survive thus far." Kamukura muttered, seemingly more to himself than Naegi. 

"You're not the first one to say that to me." Naegi whispered, voice muffled by Kamukura's shirt. 

As tempted as Kamukura felt to further tease Naegi, he decided against upsetting the boy any more than he already had. An emotional fallout would be annoying. 

They walked in silence for a few more minutes as Kamukura traversed the stairs of the building, holding Naegi tightly in order to keep him safe. 

It was near impossible to speak up over the overwhelming presence of the other, so Naegi remained still and quiet. Kamukura, however, was unafraid of breaking that silence, and suddenly piped up with a question. 

"Would the Neo World Program allow me to become somebody else?" 

"U-uh...I don't see why not? It might affect the results, however." Mumbling in thought, Naegi tilted his head up to look at Kamukura. "Do you wish to become a different person, Kamukura-kun?" 

"Well, I'm assuming you'll try to reverse the despair by reverting us to our pre-despair selves. However, I do not have a pre-despair self." Kamukura dug his fingers slightly into Naegi's shoulder, not hard enough to hurt, but enough for Naegi to see he was distressed. "Well, except for… him." 

Naegi pressed his lips together, trying his best not to be too creeped out by Kamukura's ability to predict exactly what was going to happen. "Well, that is what we planned to do. But I thought you were turned to despair by Enoshima?" 

"I was turned to spreading despair by Enoshima. However, from the moment I was created, I have been despair. There is no joy in an existence so boring." Musing to himself, Kamukura closed his eyes for a moment, still walking perfectly straight as he did so. "When a human is an expert at everything, there is nothing left to do, no goals left to accomplish. I can predict anything and everything just as it is going to happen. Nothing surprises me, nothing brings me joy. I no longer have the ability to feel human emotions."

"I see, that makes sense… even though it is really sad." Pressing his head closer to Kamukura's chest, Naegi pondered how it must feel to live such a life. He was finding himself rather upset by the prospect. 

Even if Kamukura didn't feel any human emotions, and his strength was beyond human, Naegi could hear his heart beating softly in his chest. There was no doubt about the fact he was human beneath that cold exterior. 

"You pity me?" Kamukura's tone was rather confused, even curious. 

No matter how much he thought about it, Naegi couldn't understand why exactly that warranted such confusion. "I… guess?" 

"Even though I bear every talent known to man?" 

Naegi shrugged. "It's lonely at the top."

Looking away, Kamukura took a moment to turn the phrase over in his mind. "You're quite intriguing, Naegi Makoto. Taking pity on terrorists and murderers. I wonder, what exactly led you down this treacherous path?" 

"H-huh? It's just common human decency…" As he stammered away, Naegi found himself fiddling with his hands against Kamukura's back. "You guys were normal teenagers once, it's not fair that you have to die just because your lives also got ruined by Enoshima."

"Many innocent people have died at both our hands and Enoshima's." It confused Naegi how Kamukura could confess such a thing so casually, so stone-faced. "It is only just that we pay for our crimes."

"That's why it should end here!" Naegi said that a little too loudly, too passionately. He adjusted his tone to be a bit more quiet. "A-And you guys should be allowed to have normal lives too."

Kamukura merely stared blankly ahead, lost in thought. "…You really are just like your sister."

Naegi suddenly gripped the fabric of Kamukura's blazer tightly, pulling himself up a little. "You've met Komaru?!"

"No." The words were curt. "Stop moving."

Naegi was confused enough by the response to decide it was best to stop talking. It seemed his weariness from being on his feet all day was starting to catch up with him, and the warmth from Kamukura's body wasn't helping his situation whatsoever. He allowed his eyelids to rest, relaxing to the tune of Kamukura's heartbeat against his ear and the rock of his movements. 

Kamukura found himself most unimpressed by this new burden. This boy had the audacity to not only break his ankle, but was now steadily shifting into REM sleep in his arms. The worst part was that ridiculously soft expression he was making, blushing slightly even in his sleep.

As Naegi mumbled sleepily, he relaxed his arms, opting to move them away from the other's neck and instead have them wrapped around his torso. Kamukura could rouse the boy, but he wouldn't dare. 

"Napping in the middle of the apocalypse in the arms of a terrorist?" Kamukura whispered to himself. "You truly are strange, Naegi Makoto."

[rayne-storm]

AUgust 6 - Gaming

Title: MOON QUEEN

Fandom: Hyperdrive

As always, Hyperdrive belongs to my beautiful and talented BFF @rad-infiniitum / @starburnedfarrago

This was just super fun to write, and although the logistics as presented are just absolutely whack, I hope you enjoy!!

She smiled as she hit the buttons with routine familiarity, starting her stream. She smiled gently as she addressed her followers and her little intro video played.

There was her channel name: STELLA-PY , and the letters rearranged themselves to some bubbly synth music to: LETS-PLAY and faded out to reveal the title card for the game that she was tackling today.

"Good afternoon, guys! It's me, Stella-Py!"

"Py" in this case was pronounced "Pie," and the comments she had received about the similarity mixed with her heavier frame were old news long ago. She kept herself in a small frame at the corner of the video, just because she knew she tended to make silly faces playing spookier games, and if anyone really got a sense of her size from that, she applauded their eye for detail. Any hate got pretty quickly removed from the chat thanks to a friend who maintained it, and her lovely (if few) fans.

"Today, we're doing something new and short, while I recover from the awful, awful fetus monster. This is one you guys have been telling me to try!"

She pulled up the application on her computer, and a solid wall of blue illuminated her screen. From the wall, white letters in a vintage font appeared one by one to reveal:

"QUEST FOR THE MOON QUEEN"

Stella smiled and let the elegant chiptunes that came after the letter play for a moment before starting to speak again.

"That's right, folks! Quest For The Moon Queen was published seven years ago to itch.io by an anonymous, indie developer that only called themself 'BL00 SCR33N.' It's remained relatively obscure since then, which is a shame because it looks so cute! From what I've seen, this is an adventure game where the player is this adorable little knight, trying to rescue and woo the titular Moon Queen. I'm super excited to get into it, and please make sure to put asterisks before any spoilers to hide them!"

She paused to let the chat catch up, answering a couple of questions about her day, how the baby cow was doing, and when she would do a baby cow reveal (the poll for the baby cow name was still going, Moomin being the leader by far). The chat satisfied, she hit ENTER on her keyboard, and the screen slowly darkened.

First came a little tutorial.

There was a little blue knight in front of a white screen, and little floating text walked the player through the various movements they could do. It was relatively simple, arrow keys to move, space to jump, and a couple of keys or mouse clicks to shoot a little spark.

After the tutorial came an adorable side-scrolling adventure where the little blue knight jumped over hurdles and shot sparks at bees and little black boomerang-like shapes.

Three levels of slightly increasing difficulty later, there was a boss fight.

The boss was labeled "THE DICTATOR" and a chiptune-version of ABBA's "Voulez-Vous?" played. The knight grew a little taller, and was faced suddenly by a giant black tarantula with a hundred glowing red eyes.

The sparks were ineffective, and Stella began to panic when she noticed a small sword icon. Interacting with that froze the boss and brought up an option screen:

"CHOOSE YOUR WEAPON"

MY STRENGTH

MY SPIRIT

Well, wasn't that unique?? Stella immediately chose to fight with "SPIRIT" and the scene dissolved into a cute little cutscene.

The little knight stood before THE DICTATOR, trembling only slightly in the presence of the fierce enemy.

"I must go!" The knight proclaimed in chiming little chirps

"But why?? You have served me loyally all this time!"

"I must find my own path, and you must care for your fallen kingdom."

The scene dissolved again, and the spider rolled over, defeated.

Stella felt there was more to the story, but could only really comment on how sweet that was.

"This is such a cute little game! You guys are the best, and if anyone has any idea how to get in contact with the person who developed this, please let them know that I love it so much!!"

The next levels were water-themed (of course), leading up to a new boss fight:

THE EXILE.

This boss was a massive squid, with pink tendrils that acted as hair. The blue Knight's sparks again were ineffective, and again Stella was presented a choice:

THE EXILE HAS REPLACED YOU. CHOOSE YOUR REACTION:

COMPASSION

CRUELTY

Stella again went for the softer route, and again, the screen dissolved.

Surprisingly, the squid-like creature shrunk to being smaller even than the Blue Knight.

"I am afraid, Knight."

"Why are you afraid? You have everything you could ever want, now."

"Because I am so small, and this world is so big."

The knight knelt and gently hugged the little creature.

"Take heart, EXILE, for there are many large things, but there is only one of you. Develop your skills, grow your talents, and the world will bend for you."

The EXILE bobbed happily, nodding.

"Thank you Knight! Good luck on your journey!!"

The EXILE swam away, and the Knight progressed.

So it went, with such bosses as:

THE CORINTHIAN, an eagle dressed like a glam-rocker, who the Knight could either PLUCK or APPLAUD. Applause led to the Knight clapping and giving the creature a CD to sing along to.

a giant troll THE BEAST that offered a stealth option to SNEAK around or SLAY.

THE PRETENDER, a shadowy silhouette of a woman, and the Knight could choose KILL or KINDNESS. Kindness led to the Knight patting the shadow on the back, and with each little pat more of the sprite filled in until the shadow became a dark-skinned woman in a space suit.

Finally, about two hours of play later, the knight was jumping on clouds and was faced with the final boss:

THE DEMON.

This boss was a massive metal insectoid, and Stella waited for the choice to appear, but a minute of waiting led to her health being knocked down halfway, and a message popping up:

NOT EVERY BATTLE HAS A SOLUTION. DRAW YOUR SWORD AND FIGHT.

That felt… wrong.

The chat was exploding to fight back as the monster hit the Knight, but she just couldn't.

Tears in her eyes, she removed her hands from the keyboard.

The health bar was knocked down to zero.

NOT EVERY BATTLE CAN BE WON the screen proclaimed, as it began to fade.

Suddenly, a shower of pink and green lights fluttered down.

The chat began to go crazy. This, it seemed, had never been discovered before. Everyone always fought the monster, and gained a trite little victory screen, the little Blue Knight doing a little dance.

This was something completely new.

NOT EVERY BATTLE CAN BE WON.

BUT SOMETIMES LOSING YOURSELF ALLOWS ANOTHER TO LIVE.

The metal shell of the boss began to melt, and out floated a beautiful woman, pale-skinned with pink and green hair, and nearly translucent green wings that shimmered and glowed.

She floated down to the body of the little fallen Knight and kissed his head. The knight slowly stood.

"Thank you, Blue Knight, for your compassion. Thank you for setting me free. You do not have to hide yourself any longer."

The armor melted away from the knight, and an adorable little creature with blue skin, long ears, and yellow eyes remained.

The descriptions of the characters changed. The Blue Knight became THE REGRETFUL SOUL, and what once was THE DEMON became…

THE MOON QUEEN.

"Thank you, my lady," the REGRETFUL SOUL chirped, and they took each other's hands.

The MOON QUEEN scooped up the little creature, and began to fly up the screen with him. As they reached the top, they turned and faced the screen.

THANK YOU, PLAYER, FOR ABSOLVING OUR GUILT AND SETTING US FREE.

The screen faded to black, and Stella initially thought it had completely ended. She was about to exit out of the program (still sobbing), when a little message slowly flowed up from the bottom:

TO LUNA.

I LOVE YOU.

I LOVE YOU.

I LOVE YOU.

-NEIL

Stella couldn't help crying harder, and blubbered out her closing spiel. The chat still kept going absolutely crazy, some claiming that this was a hacked copy of the game, or that they totally knew about the secret ending. Suddenly a new kind of message began exploding:

The game was gone.

It wasn't on itch.io, or any other site that the chat could find.

What in the world…?

Stella figured that she would deal with the implications of that later, saying goodbye and logging out of her stream.

She gave herself a few more minutes to cry before she heard the soft ping of a new email.

She sighed and opened it, ready to be assaulted by some kind of anger (per usual when she streamed), and was surprised to see the sender was going by "BL00 SCR33N."

She opened the message, and it simply read:

"You saved the knight and the Moon Queen. Congratulations. Want to meet up?"

After that was a phone number.

This was a terrible idea.

She called.

[unlockthelore]

Sunrise

It’s not unheard of for Kurama to wake up to find Yuusuke not in bed, but seeing him outside at dawn is. Part of the Guns and Roses series. For more updates, follow the guns and roses tag on this blog.

When Kurama wakes, he’s acutely aware of the empty space beside him where Yuusuke should have been. On the nights they spent together, waking up tangled in one another was commonplace but there were few exceptions when Yuusuke wandered. Squinting against the silhouettes, Kurama tried to make out the shape of his desk chair and the the television sitting atop the stand Yuusuke dragged into his room a few months ago. More and more of the former detective’s effects were left here and there — effectively making Kurama’s bedroom theirs but neither of them were opposed to the thought. Still, it didn’t feel like theirs when Yuusuke wasn’t there.

Easing to his bedside, Kurama pressed his hand to the rumpled sheets finding they were cooled. Yuusuke must have been up for some time. The early morning sun was beginning to peek through the curtains as the sky lightened from a deep navy to a softer shade of blue. Swinging his legs from beneath the warm blanket, cold air nipped at Kurama’s legs as he pushed up to pad across the room. His toes catching on Yuusuke’s t-shirt still strewn across the ground along with his own. Picking up the latter, he eyed the former and sighed.

Hopefully, the former detective wasn’t somewhere wearing less than the optimal amount of clothing for cold weather. Tossing Yuusuke’s shirt in the hamper, Kurama shrugged on his own and opened the door. Rubbing his palm against his eye as he wandered the halls, peering into the kitchen and the bathroom, stepping into the living room when he pauses and takes a step back. Out on the veranda with the curtains pulled aside, Yuusuke sits with messy bed hair sticking up at odd angles and shirtless.

He doesn’t turn around and seems not to notice Kurama’s presence at all. Kurama, after taking a bit longer to admire the soft blue glow of Yuusuke’s energy outlining the length of his body, decides to return for his t-shirt and a blanket. Bundling up both as he stepped to the terrace door, sliding it open and pulling Yuusuke’s shirt free from the bundle, handing it to him.

“Mm…?” Yuusuke hums softly, glancing away from the city skyline, his cheeks a little pinker and his eyes still glazed with sleep. “Kurama?”

The world is softer in the early morning with the city lights dotting the horizon, beginning to go out one by one as the sun rose. Still, it was early and the sky had an orange-pink hue to it, dappled with violets and lightening blues. Wisps of clouds floating past with a chilled wind that only made Kurama insist Yuusuke pull his shirt on. As much as he admired the view, he didn’t need for him to fall ill.

Yuusuke seemed to take the hint and shrugged on the shirt with a mumbled thanks, inching over to make room on the small stoop. Kurama settling next to him with the blanket unfurled, wrapped around their shoulders in record time before Yuusuke could voice a protest. To Kurama’s surprise, no protest command Yuusuke only mumbled another thanks, staring off into the distance.

He seemed oddly contemplative. A look that looked very charming on him but there is a sort of melancholy that wrenches at Kurama’s heart.

“Is everything alright?”

Yuusuke hums softly. “Just… thinking..” His voice is quieter than before, if such a thing were possible, and his words were slurred as if he weren’t entirely present. “… Why’re you awake?”

Kurama never once looked away from him but Yuusuke seemed to have eyes only for the world beyond. He thinks to tell him that he had been awake for a little while. Ever since Yuusuke climbed out of the space between his arms and left him with a ghost of warmth. That he waited patiently for him to return, drifting in and out of sleep, only to wake up rudely when he realized that he wasn’t coming back. Some small part of his mind, laced with worry, that the former detective had gotten himself in some sort of trouble or left before the morning sun woke them both.

Swallowing those thoughts, Kurama admitted. “I couldn’t sleep once I noticed you were gone.” Yuusuke hums softly, a soft apologetic thing and he glances away from the skyline as Kurama rubbed his knuckled against his arm, trying to chase away the goosebumps raising. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Yuusuke’s brows furrowed and for a second, Kurama wondered if he crossed a line, but then recognition shows and he shakes his head.

“Nah, I mean… it’s nothing bad I guess… depends on how you view bad…”

Unsure of what expression he was wearing, he notices the reflexive way Yuusuke smiles and feels the jab coming before he hears it.

“Couldn’t sleep without me?” Yuusuke asks, a glimmer of amusement lightening an otherwise quiet and somber tone.

Kurama smiled despite the worry gnawing at him, slipping his arm around Yuusuke’s back and brushing his fingers against his side. “I couldn’t, no…” He presses a lingering kiss to Yuusuke’s forehead before resting his own there, rubbing small circles at his side. “You can tell me anything, Yuusuke.”

The needling isn’t always needed but when in moods like this, where Yuusuke feels far away from him despite being right at his side, it’s necessary to ground him. Yuusuke shuffled closer to him, the blanket sagging against his shoulder and bunching up between them, smoothed out absentmindedly by Kurama while Yuusuke made himself comfortable.

“I know,” Yuusuke murmurs, glancing up at the sky with a faint smile tugging ash is lips. “I should’ve asked you to come out here with me… but you’re such a log in the morning, we might’ve missed it.”

It doesn’t occur to him until Yuusuke draws his knees close to his chest and tucks the edge of the blanket into his lap that the former detective wanted to be held, and Kurama answered swiftly, easing his arms around him and hugging him close to his chest.

Dismissing the jab, Kurama tucked Yuusuke close to him and rested his chin atop his head, glancing up at the sky. “Missed it?”

“Sunrise,” Yuusuke chuckled, and Kurama could picture the smile on his face. “Now that I think about it… how am I supposed to be appreciating having another day with you if you’re not beside me?”

The emotionally charged words caught Kurama off guard and he squints down at the top of Yuusuke’s head. Able to see the curve of his smile and the gentle rolling of his energy as it circulated around his body, not enough to ward off, but radiating power. It was intoxicating and also worrisome.

“You are rather affectionate today.”

“You think…?”

Oh, he definitely did. It wasn’t as if Yuusuke wasn’t affectionate any other day. In fact, he could be quite affectionate when he wanted to be and had a habit of showing his feelings in grandiose or little gestures. This, however, was different. As if the filter between his mind and his mouth was looser than it normally was. And the valve which kept his emotions tightly sealed in his heart was opening.

“What’s on your mind?” Kurama finally asks, brushing his thumb along Yuusuke’s cheek, admiring the reddened flush and the way the detective leans into him. The amount of trust Yuusuke puts in him to hold his weight and keep him warm, both humbling and rewarding.

“I dunno….” Yuusuke sighs, his eyes rolling up and reflecting the orange-pink sheen before meeting Kurama’s own. “I woke up and felt… a lot.”

Kurama squeezes his shoulder and nods, humming to show that he was listening.

“I’m alive, and I sure as shit didn’t think I’d make it this far, and definitely not with all I have…” Yuusuke shrugs nonchalantly but Kurama squeezed his shoulder and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

He didn’t need to hear how Yuusuke felt about them. The former detective showed it in every action and word he bestowed on them. It was difficult not to see how much he cared and anyone who said otherwise was a fool.

“Then I looked at you, and you were peaceful and there and it just hit me that this is my life… so I just wanted to see the sunrise. Make it official, I guess.”

Kurama hums softly, smiling at the soft sentiment and he doesn’t feel thinned to point anything out to Yuusuke or detail his feelings. It’s enough that Yuusuke could express what he felt. Nuzzling the top of his head, Kurama pressed a kiss to his crown.

“I see.”

Yuusuke shuffled closer to him until they were pressed against one another solidly, and the warmth was coming from them rather than the blanket. The morning chill all but ignored.

“I’m gonna stay out here for a bit longer,” Yuusuke muttered, tucking his face against the side of Kurama’s neck.

“Do you want me to stay with you?”

A sleepy, almost delirious chuckle followed. “Always.”

Kurama’s heart fluttered and he hugged Yuusuke close, looking up as the sun began to peek over the rooftops and the city came to life. “Always it is.”

[the-awkward-outlaw]

Hello! 😊 can you write Arthur reassuring reader after she woke up screaming from a nightmare?

Here you go, Anon! I sort of forgot the screaming part of the request, and this turned out differently than I planned. This honestly could’ve gone multiple ways. Anywho, hope this satisfies. 

Warnings: scenes of graphic violence/torture

Keep running, you say to yourself. You have to keep running. If you stop for even a second, they’ll catch you. 

“Come on!” you shout behind you at your little sister. 

“I can’t, I’m tired!” she whines, stopping again for the third time in a row. You do too, your lungs burning from running. The ash and smoke you breathed in earlier doesn’t help. 

“I know, I am too. But we have to keep going!” you scream, grabbing her hand and dragging her behind you. Behind you comes the laughter, like a pack of coyotes. They are coming. The sound makes you scream and you run faster. 

“They went this way,” A man’s voice screams. “Keep running, children! We’ll get ya!” 

What is wrong with these people? They almost act like they’re hunting animals, only you’re the animals. You shriek again and keep running, your face and arms getting scratched by the bushes you run through, leaping over fallen trees. Your sister struggles to keep up with you, her hand being crushed by your own. 

“I want mama!” she cries out. 

“They got her,” you say, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Papa too. We can’t stop though!” 

From behind you hear the heavy footfalls of a much larger person than yourself bounding towards you. Your sister is suddenly wrenched from your grasp, making you stumble. You turn to see the man holding her up by the arm as she screams, several other men bounding up to his side and laughing. 

You don’t think, you just get up and continue running. It’s too late for her, there’s nothing you can do. You’ve no weapons and you’re half their size. As you flee, you hear a weird splashing sound. You jump over the large trunk of a fallen tree and hear your sister screaming like you’ve never heard before. You hide behind the trunk and look back, but then you wish you’d kept running. You see your sister’s silhouette in the flames covering her body. The men must have doused her in some kind of flammable oil and then thrown a torch at her. Her arms flail about as she shrieks in agony, twirling and running in circles as the men laugh. 

You can’t watch anymore as they let her burn alive. You get back up on your legs and keep running, tears streaming down your cheeks. You blindly hurl yourself into trees, and each one you touch begins glowing, their bark turning to coals. The men chasing you lurch out of the darkness, taunting you, screaming at you. The sky above the tall trees illuminates, lightning streaking across the clouds. 

One of the man grabs your wrists, his hand growing hairy and his nails lengthening and turning black. You look up at him and his face morphs into a dog’s. He growls and yelps, his companions closing in. They’re turning too and they’re preparing to leap onto you, ready to tear you to shreds. They show their teeth, foamy spit dripping from their jowls. 

This isn’t right, you think. Pull yourself out, this isn’t right. This isn’t real because this isn’t how it happened. Get out of this!

Somehow you wake yourself up, but the howls and cackling of the men still rings in your ears. You look outside your tent, convincing yourself that you see their glowing eyes in the darkest spots in the area you can see.

You sit up, feeling yourself shaking. The vision of your sister, bathed in flames, keeps swimming into your vision. An overwhelming sense of guilt slams into you. While you don’t know exactly how she died at the hands of her murderers, you were the only one of your family to survive. All because you ran rather than staying behind to try and fight them off like your father and older brother. True, your father had screamed at you and your sister to run, but she hadn’t. She’d stayed behind with them, too afraid of leaving  your parents, and those monsters killed her. You only know they did because they didn’t leave victims. They weren’t named the Skinners for nothing. 

You’ve had dreams like this before, many times since that awful night. You’ve watched each member of your family murdered in different ways, and each time you run instead of helping them. The dreams always end the same: with the Skinners catching up to you and killing you. Them transforming into dogs is a new addition, but nonetheless terrifying. 

You’re parched, so you climb out of your tent and walk over to Pearson’s wagon. Everyone else is asleep, not that you’re surprised. You dare a glance over at Arthur’s tent, but it’s empty. No surprise, he went on a hunting trip this morning. He’s usually out for a day or two when he hunts. Somehow you think you’d feel better if he was around. It’s hard to feel threatened when you’re in his presence. It’s not just that he’s big and broad, he just has this energy and force to him, like nothing could move him if he didn’t want to be moved. The fact that he’s fiercely loyal to the gang and almost everyone in it only adds to that. 

You grab a tin cup on the table Pearson uses to cut vegetables and dip it into the water barrel, drinking greedily. The flames from your dream had felt so real, singeing your throat and lungs. You empty the cup in seconds and then dip it into the water a second time. Just as you’re raising it to your lips, a voice comes from right behind you. 

“Surprised you’re up this late.” 

You drop the cup and turn quickly, ignoring the fact that the water’s splashed down your legs. 

“Oh, Arthur,” you say, putting a hand over your heart as if it’ll stop the pounding. 

“You a’right?” he asks softly, his face worried. 

“Y-yeah. Just… I had a nightmare, is all. They always shake me up.” 

“Hmm. Well, why don’t ya come sit down with me at the fire, try to settle down again. We can talk if ya want.” 

This kind of invitation isn’t unusual for Arthur, or for him to offer it to you. He’s one of the few men that will run miles in order to get a small trinket for someone if they ask, and he’s one of the few who takes interest in everyone. It’s one of the things you love about him, not that you’d ever admit you’ve got a thing for him. Especially not to him. Emotionally, he’s very unavailable. 

You smile and nod. “Thanks, Arthur.” 

He walks with you over to the fire and sits down on the log next to you, making sure to keep a few inches between you. For the next few moments, you’re both quiet. You look over to him, he looks tired. You wonder why he didn’t just make sure you were okay and then head off to bed. 

“You don’t have to stay up with me,” you say. “I’ll be okay. You should get some sleep.” 

He glances over at you. “I’m a’right. I’d rather stay up and make sure you can settle down again.” 

“I will, Arthur. Now go take care of yourself.” Arthur’s a complex man. You’ve seen how scary he can be, know how many men he’s killed. On the other side though, he can be funny, witty, sarcastic, but most of all, caring. He truly cares about those he considers family and would happily die for this gang. He’s sweet to the girls, especially Tilly and Mary-Beth, and he’s extremely caring and even paternal with Jack. You remember catching him holding a sleeping Jack while Abigail was swamped with chores. That was when you knew you were in trouble, that your crush was more than a minor infatuation that would snuff itself out in a matter of time. 

Arthur stretches his arms out. “I’m fine, Y/N.” 

“Arthur, you’re tired. Go on, get some sleep.” 

He looks over at you with a small smile. “Tell ya what. I’ll go to bed after you tell me about this dream.” 

You swallow nervously. Of course it’s no secret to anyone in the gang how your family died. It’d been many years ago, you were barely a teenager when it’d happened. You were travelling with your family, you set up camp in a forest for a few days to rest. Little did anyone in your family know that the Skinners had migrated this way. One night, they’d raided your wagon. You were the only one to escape. 

“I just… dreamed about my family again,” you say sadly. “I’ve had these dreams before. It’s like my brain’s trying to find answers as to how they died, like it’s seeking closure. I’ve watched them all die in a number of ways. Tonight it was my sister. She… she and I were best friends.” 

Your lip’s trembling as you remember her. The way she used to laugh, how she’d sing to herself, her jokes that could always make you laugh. You proceed telling Arthur about your dream, not hiding any detail, not even the part when you ran rather than trying to help her. When you get to the Skinners turning to dogs, you stop. 

“That’s all that happened,” you finish, staring into the dirt. You can’t look into the fire, afraid you’ll see her again. 

Arthur sighs, “Bad business, Y/N. I’m truly sorry. I can’t imagine how you must feel.” He’s silent for a moment, almost as though he’s debating. 

“Well, I don’t wanna leave you alone now. Doubt you’ll be able to sleep after a dream like that, know I wouldn’t.” 

“But you need to sleep,” you say as he yawns. 

“Let me finish. I was thinkin’... maybe I could sleep in the other half of your tent. That way you ain’t alone.” His eyes widen a bit. “I ain’t plannin’ nothin’, please don’t think that. Just want ya to be okay.” 

You smile, glad it’s dark so he doesn’t notice the blush on your cheeks. “I know you’d never do anything, Arthur. I… I’d like that.” 

You stand up and lead him to your tent. You crawl in and settle down into your bed roll. You’re just about to grab the blanket when Arthur drapes it over you. He pats your shoulder and then sits down next to you, takes his hat off and then lies on his back. 

“Let me know if ya need anythin’,” he says in the darkness. You yawn, feeling suddenly tired. 

Just as you’re drifting off, you hear a bush somewhere behind your tent rustle. The sound jerks you awake, memories of the Skinners leaping out of the darkness of your dream coming back to you. 

“Arthur!” you hiss. He sits up, blinking his own exhaustion from his face. 

“Sure it’s nothin’,” he says. He gets up and goes out. You hear him walk away and then silence. Your blood pounds in your ears and you fear the worst. Funny how the night magnifies one’s senses and makes things seem a lot scarier than they are. You start wringing your hands, but then Arthur’s footsteps come back. He enters the tent again and settles down. 

“Just a raccoon lookin’ for scraps. It’s gone now.” 

You let out a relieved sigh,  but your adrenaline is still going. Arthur looks at you in the darkness.

“You sure you’re okay? Ya seem nervous.” 

“Y-yeah,” you say. “Just being silly.” 

You look down at him and he extends his arm closest to you out and away from his body. “Come here,” he whispers. 

“Oh I don’t wanna impose on you, Arthur.” 

“It ain’t imposin’ if you’ve been invited. Ya need to sleep too. Now come on.” 

You sigh and lay down next to him, settle your body right against his and then lay your head on his chest. It’s only now that you realize how cold you are. His body radiates heat and his heart drums at a steady pace in your ears. He smells good, like pine, sage and earth. You can’t help but take several deep breaths so his scent floods your nostrils. His hand lays against your shoulder, his thumb circling over it, comforting you. You drape your arm over him, bringing you even closer to him. 

Within seconds, you’re beginning to fall asleep. That is until his hand leaves your shoulder. He fidgets a bit and then you feel the blanket covering you again. You shift a little against him, getting even more comfortable. You’ve only dared imagine this moment during your loneliest hours in the past, but they’re nowhere near as good as the real thing. You hardly need a blanket lying next to him, but it keeps your back warm. His arm around you forms a protective cocoon and his heartbeat covers the sounds of the world outside. What you wouldn’t give to feel his lips graze your forehead? 

You want to stay awake simply to continue enjoying this moment, but you’re so warm and comfortable, you can’t help but begin drifting off. The nightmare doesn’t seem at all threatening anymore. You can’t remember the last time you felt this safe. You press your forehead to his neck, falling further into sleep. Just as you go under, you swear you hear him say something. 

“You damn idiot. You ain’t foolin’ no one, Morgan.”  

[ddaengyoonmin]

Chapter 3

Pairing: Jungkook x reader, Taehyung x reader, eventual Ot7 x reader in later chapters

Genre: fluff (not really in this chapter), angst, uhh maybe smut eventually??

Theme: Based kinda on sword art online a lot of similar ideas and themes kinda combining the idea of them trapped in the game, but the world is closer to ALFheim online

Word count : 1.9k

Warnings: Swearing?..I swear a lot it can’t be contained. Mentions of death, Panic attacks,

a/n : I realize in this chapter I’m taking a lot from the plot of SAO, I feel like I have to explain it more than I’d like to, most people probably already know what happens in SAO ( I did try to make some changes) but for the sake of people that may not know, and the characters and their personal feelings and reactions to what happens I’m gonna go into detail about it all.  I swear I’m gonna deviate a bit in later chapters and make it my own.  I just gotta set the scene for all of this and it’s taking longer than I wanted lmao, its my first fic okay, of course I got in over my head lmaooo

next -> Chapter 4

 ------------------------------------

“I’ll show you the way” he said with a grin.  But something seemed off about that grin, there was worry hidden behind it.  You didn't like this at all..

Kookie had taken your hand and led you to the town square that the emergency notice had instructed everyone meet at. It was a quiet walk that took about 30 long, worrisome minutes.  Neither of you exchanging many words besides an “It’ll be okay” from Kookie a few times when he’d glance at your nervous face.

When you arrived there were thousands of others filing in.  The golden colored stone courtyard in the middle of the town was more than big enough to space everyone, yet you found your anxiety growing bigger and bigger as more people flooded through the walkways leading into the town.

     You had been fine when it was just you and Kookie, you’d started to think maybe you really did like being around people.  This crowd was not to your liking though, it only heightened all the panic you were already starting to feel.

Maybe it was that fear, or maybe it was the fear that you had no idea why you couldn't log out of this game, but something pushed you to grab Kookie’s arm and hold it tight.

He didn’t seem to mind, he didn’t look at you though. His eyes scanning the crowd of other worried faces, turning his head to try and listen in to others’ conversations”

“I tried to contact support but there's no button for it!” A large fairy with wolf ears and gray wings complained

“I’m sure my mom will just turn the thing off soon and i’ll snap out of it! Dammit! they told me not to be on past 8”  a small red winged fairy whined.

“This is so stupid, you’d think with all the money I spent on this they’d have fixed this all by now�� someone Kookie couldn’t quite see sounded out from behind you both.

Kookie sighed and puts a hand over one of your hands that gripped his arm.  Finally looking at you he tried to assure another “It’ll be okay” and that one was the most insincere sounding one yet.

His own fear starting to break the calm and relaxed composure he was trying to maintain for your sake. You wished you could maintain your own calm and relaxed facade. You’ve had to be brave before for many things and you’d always handled it pretty well.  

But this, felt different.  The whole aura here was off in a way that made you feel slightly sick to your stomach and if it weren’t for the fact that this is where you’d met your new friend Kookie, the first friend you’ve had in years...you feel that you would wish you’d never even opened the box for this damn game.

A loud noise resembling a gong interrupted your train of thought.  Causing gasps and many jumps and various noises from the crowd of thousands.

A bolt of lightning slowly shot through the now somewhat darkened ,red sky and the crowd shifted its attention to that direction.

A dark smoke started to creep from all over and assemble into a figure in the spot where everyone was focused.  The figure had to be about 100 feet tall, hovering in the sky above the square.  It was only a silhouette, but you could distinctly make out that it had the head of a wolf and the body of a human, with a long flowing cloak that sat on its shoulders, extending far past its feet.

Your grip on Kookie’s arm tightened even more at the appearance of this mysterious floating wolf in the sky.

“Good evening” Its voice boomed out “I am Fenrir, head game maker.  And ruler in this world,” it paused only briefly, “I suppose you are all wondering why the log out button seems to have disappeared from your menu screen.  I can assure you it is not a glitch, it is completely intentional”

A series of shocked noises rumbled over the crowd as they all took in the information that was just stated.  You looked over at Kookie with wide eyes.  He was focused intensely on the floating figure, brow furrowed and anger clear on his face.

“To explain further, this is how I designed the game.  None of you can log out and if anyone from the real world attempts to remove or disconnect your headsets the high density microwave transceivers that have made this world feel like a reality” another erie pause, “Will fry your brain stem and end your reality here and in real life.  You will die.”

The crowd erupts into even louder discussions and irritated banter with one another.  You hear someone not to far from where you and Kookie stand yell out “Yeah fucking right man, I call bullshit freaky floating wolf man”

As if he heard that cry, or maybe it was the cries of many similar outbursts that had followed that he had heard, he spoke again, “If you don’t believe me, I’d like to inform you that though I put out a warning on public broadcast, some player’s families also doubted my message and tried to remove their loved one’s headsets.  I’d like to inform you all that this new game I’ve created contained 12,000 players when I removed your option to leave, now it only contains 11,856.  144 players have been eliminated from the game...and from real life”

As he spoke that last sentence he waved a hand and the horrific proof appeared all over the sky.  On at least 10 different screens floating in the sky were news broadcasts from all over the world.  Stating exactly what he had said. Images and videos of families sobbing, and of people being interviewed in front of the office of the game creators of the full dive technology. Headlines reading:

“144 Dead in tragic gaming incident, 11,856 players still trapped in the game”

“Families grieve the loss of loved ones in horrific gaming incident, head game maker and CEO of new full dive technology missing”

“Faerie Realm traps 12,000 players in a deadly game”

You tore your eyes away, tears formed and your body started to shake.  Your hands slipped from Kookie’s arm and traveled to your face holding your cheeks in horror.  

Kookie was frozen staring at the screens, perhaps searching to see if he knew anyone who had died?

The screens disappeared and the dark figure spoke loudly again.  You tried to focus your attention back on him but the ringing that had started in your ears made it difficult.  You missed the majority of what he said, but managed to collect yourself only slightly enough to make out the last part.

“To put it more simply, you will now feel pain.  And if you die here in the game, you die in real life, good luck to you all” Then the smokey figure evaporated.

You fell to your knees, hands on the stone floor of the courtyard, unable to contain your panic anymore.   Tears fell in intense streams down your face as your body shook in a way it never had before.  While struggling to catch your breath, two arms wrapped around you and pulled you up, Kookie held you tightly and close to his chest.  “Shh..sh”  he whispered while stroking your hair.  In any other situation this intimate moment would feel totally inappropriate considering you'd only just met this man today.  But you welcomed his touch as it really did seem to calm you down from the sheer panic you felt.

He took you by the shoulders and brought you where you could see his face.  He was trying to mask it, and he definitely had been doing a decent job at it, but he was just as terrified as you were.

“We need to find my roommate” he said in a soft voice suddenly, “my...friend...my best friend...he should be here too...we came in together but decided to do our own thing...he's gotta be...no one would’ve been in our house to take off his headset so...he's gotta be...here…” His cracking voice let on to the panic he was feeling.

Your heart broke for him, you could tell his thoughts were racing faster than he could sanely handle, as he wondered if his friend could be among the already dead.

“Of course” you nod “go find him”

“I don’t think it’s best for me leave you alone, lets stick together okay?” he said, not really giving you an option as he grabbed your hand and franticly started dragging you through the crowd, looking over every face he passed by.

He came to a dead stop and yelled in pure overwhelming relief “TAEHYUNG!”

A seemingly tall, attractive man about your age with mint green hair, and shimmering emerald wings sticking out from his back was sat on a bench about 10 feet away, eyes glazed over and un-moving with his hands in his lap.

Kookie rushed over to the man and kneeled down to his level, “Hey man, holy shit, I was so worried,” The green haired man, Taehyung, you assumed, snapped out of his trance with a small shake of his head and stared at Kookie.  “Jungkook...what...what the fuck is happening?” his face forming into an expression of terror.  

Kookie, well...actually Jungkook as you’d just learned, embraced Taehyung in a quick hug and pulled him up off the bench.

“We gotta make some kind of a game plan dude, the game maker said the only way out of here alive was to beat the game, so shits probably about to get pretty crazy.  When you complete a quest, boss challenge, or defeat a animal that’s on the list of required tasks to clear each level it disappears for good, and once all of them on each floor are taken out you can move on to the next level.  100 levels may take a long time to beat.  Our best chance is to move quick.  It’s going to be tough with people going around trying to snag all the best and easy loot and experience points once they realize that getting as strong as possible, as quick as possible, is the best strategy to stay alive” he rambled,

Taehyung nodded at Jungkook’s words but Jungkook could tell he didn’t fully understand what was being implied.

“I think we need to leave. Now. The longer we just stay camped out here wondering what’s going on like everyone else is right now, the less of a chance we have to be the ones to get the best chance of survival”  

It clicks for Taehyung, his voice wavers

“Kook...Wouldn’t that...be kind of a dick move? Snagging up all of the best stuff before anyone else can get to it? If that’s the best way to survive shouldn’t we let everyone know?”

Jungkook shook his head sternly, “No. I only care about us making it out of here at this point.” he nodded his head towards you and then to Taehyung.

Did he really just say he didn’t care if anyone else died?

You studied Jungkook for a second, his mannerisms were changed from the charming, friendly, smiling man who showed you around the forest earlier today, he was stiffer and more rigid in his stance.  You couldn’t even see panic on his face anymore, instead there was a strong look of determination.  

You weren’t sure if you liked this Jungkook you were seeing now, but you couldn’t fully blame him for the drastic switch, people can change when they are thrown into survival mode, and this...was now life and death.

[lordbeyron]

Stillwater’s Warning

((Adapted from RP logs))

((HINTS AT 8.2 SPOILERS AHEAD, BELOW THE CUT!))

A judgmental scoff escaped the Magister as he gazed out over the Violet City. The view from the Purple Parlor was all-encompassing, the city laid out before him in its entirety.

Dalaran.

He turned up his nose, with a mixture of disinterest and loathing. He’d spent more than enough time within the city’s walls. Between his studies at the academy, to diplomatic visits, to that unpleasant ‘Sunreaver’ nonsense… he certainly wasn’t a stranger to the city. Though simultaneously, with all the regime and policy changes over the years, he certainly felt like one. 

Now more than ever.

In truth, he almost dismissed the letter, after he’d read its contents. A summons, slipped ever-so subtly into his study while he was away, to be found when he returned. ‘Bold of her,’ he thought to himself. Bold of her to so brazenly infiltrate his home amidst all the unrest and hostilities still ever-present between the Children of Blood and Umbric’s lackeys. Acolytes? Followers, all the same. And yet, he doubted she, herself, planted the letter; one of her little pets probably slipped it inside for him to find.

Archmage Shakiena Stillwater. One of the few - if not the only - contacts in the Kirin Tor the Magister still kept. They’d met some decades back when she was merely a child, born to one of his bitter rivals,Shi'leyne Meadowhisper. Recalling the name alone made the hairs on the back of his neck bristle, ear twitching in irritation even now, long ago as it had been since the two really butt heads. He’d formed a tentative bond with Shi’leyne’s daughter, initially as a scheme to turn her against her mother. But it soon came to light that Shakiena held much more potential than being a mere pawn in the ever-ongoing game of chess between Bey’ron and her mother.

His attention was called back from reminiscing, as Kreezun let out a low growl; someone approached. A ren’dorei, clad in Kirin Tor battle garb, stepped forward. Her shadow-lit eyes looked out over the balcony of the Purple Parlor… before narrowing. A wave of unease passed over her as she peered to her right.

"Oh.. good.. you brought your dog anyway.." Shakiena said with a heavy sigh, as she approached.

Kreezun appeared none too happy to see her, either. He snarled, but held his position - he wouldn’t attack unless told. Still, his feelers remained trained on the ren’dorei, sensing the vast arcane power she commanded. His favorite snack.

"--Did I bring my bodyguard to a neutral city of mages and assassins?” Bey’ron smirked beneath his hood. “Of course."

Shakiena waved her right hand in a manner suggesting she'd cut the beast if it tried anything. She was a skilled battle-mage, after all. Bey’ron knew of the blade she concealed in her right gauntlet. Handy, for the few cases when magic would be of no use. Facing a felstalker, for example.

"Have you considered giving him a bow? Won't do anything for the stench... and…” she trailed off in a moment’s consideration, before shaking her head. “Actually no. It'd still be just as fel fucking hideous, come to think of it."

The ren’dorei flexed her right hand's fingers, momentarily conjuring void enhanced talons on her fingertips, which faded almost immediately. Another show of force on the woman’s part - going as far as to literally bare her claws to the beast holding her threatened. Neither Bey’ron nor Kreezun reacted; they weren’t here to kill her. She’d called him here, after all.

“Either way... you're here, and…” Shakiena added, regaining her composure and looking out over the city - a sight she surely appreciated more than the felhound any given day. “As much as I hate to admit it, that's the more important thing here.”

Beyron tugged his gloves up neatly and conformed over his hands, and then straightened his sleeves immediately after - muscle memory. Appearance was everything, and he hated to have even a hair out of place.

"That I am. Judging by the tone of your letter, you've something crucial to share?” he turned to face Shakiena fully, smirk tugging the corner of his lips upward ever-so-slightly. “Don't keep me in suspense..."

Shakiena inhaled and exhaled a few times... in a manner intentionally keeping the Magister in suspense for a moment. Just to spite him.

"Are any members of the Sun Council associated with the Sunreavers still?" she asked, actually turning her head to look at him - her tone decisive and to the point.

Beyron’s brow raised, curiously. Subtly, he gestured Kreezun off; entertaining as it was to watch Shakiena's discomfort around him, it was time to talk business, now. He didn’t want the demon to silence the ren’dorei, unintentionally. Kreezun padded off towards the door... tendrils still affixed in the Archamge's direction…

"Tch. A number of them. My own protege was a Battle Magus, before I converted her. Still, I imagine she retains some manner of tie to them, even now.”

He didn’t go into much more detail than that. Not about Syrielle, anyway. He knew well and good that she had been burned once before by the Kirin Tor. Literally. The Purge of Dalaran drove something of an immovable wedge between the Sunreavers and the Kirin Tor. It was a stretch that Syrielle and Shakiena knew one another, but still… it was better to leave names out of such things.

“Most who were foolish enough to follow Archmage Sunreaver still wear that as some sort of badge of honor.” he added, tone dripping with disgust at the notion - expression matching. “Why do you ask?"

“There's whispers…” Shakiena said, her tone distinctly sunken into the issue at hand. “Less of the void variety and more of the discrete variety... inferring heavily that a contingent of Sunreavers may be a part of some... plot, in the Banshee Queen's grand plan. And if her history is anything to go by, that.. cannot be good for anyone."

A sharp exhale escaped through the Magister’s nose.

"On the contrary... I imagine it would be good for the Banshee Queen." he shrugged his shoulders, lightly. "The Sunreavers may not have been built on sound principles, but they are well disciplined and organized. Whatever it is the Banshee Queen has for them to do will probably be done rather well.”

A smirk returned to his face, as he looked Shakiena over.

“If this is a problem for anyone... it'd be so for your precious Alliance."

"I've got Dalaran, if the Alliance crumbled tomorrow.” she shook her head, rubbing her thumb against her forefinger. “I'm hardly affected so long as Dalaran is safe."

She stepped back from the railing, and walked quickly around Bey’ron. A pooly shadow spilled forth from her hand, congealing into one of her subtle operatives; a void-born spider. Her sneaky eight-eyed companion manifested on the floor, before skittering away hurriedly down the tower walls… and out of sight.

"I may not know any Sunreavers that survived the Purge, or were kept out of the Hold, but you have to imagine that nothing good can come of something like this.. the Sunreavers are exclusively your people, possibly being fed to fel-knows-what at the rate the Banshee Queen is generating corpses."

"The Sunreavers are an expeditious force. They put themselves in harm's way frequently enough.” the Magister retorted, with a short, semi-irritated sigh. “What makes you think this is any different?"

"Because... it could tip Dalaran's allegiance again, and I doubt either of us would like that." the woman said, shaking her head again as her gaze fell on the city. "They're not Sunreavers of Dalaran... I don't think any who wanted to return here would want to be a part of it. But... if they were perceived in any way to be associated with the Sunreavers in Dalaran again..."

She let the words trail off… though the thought practically finished itself. She shook her head.

“...You remember what happened last time Dalaran's neutrality was taken advantage of. I think for both our sakes, neutrality must remain."

"Well, I suppose that's up to your human leaders, isn't it?" came Bey’ron’s snide retort. "You're not wrong. The Sunreavers aren't a part of Dalaran or the Kirin Tor any longer. Your Lady Proudmoore saw to the end of that. And even if they were... I hold no sway among the Sunreavers. You're in intelligence, aren't you? I'm sure the incident report of my 'dismissal' from their ranks in Northrend is floating around here, somewhere.”

His eyes glanced, reflexively, towards the section of the city formerly known as the Sunreaver’s Sanctuary - a name quickly changed after the Purge. Still, while it was known as - and served as - a sanctuary for Archmage Sunreaver’s associates, Bey’ron did briefly count himself among them. At least… until he was relieved of such associations following a rather heated argument with the Archmage himself. And yet it was hardly the first Dalaran incident, in a lengthy list of Dalaran incidents that culminated into his distaste for this place.

“I can't exactly walk up to Archmage Sunreaver himself and dissuade him."

‘Nor would I care to.’ he wanted to add. But he felt his blood boiling from the very thought enough as it was. His rant about Archmage Sunreaver could wait for another day.

"The Kirin Tor tipped into the Alliance for a number of factors. The Sunreavers took advantage of the neutrality, yes. But you know as well as I do that the real reason they leaned was because of who was leading them at the time.” he went on, folding his hands neatly into one another behind his back. “Tell me, is she on the Council of Dalaran again now? Or does her station of Lord Admiral keep her busy enough as it is?"

His fel-fire eyes flared, set to Shakiena once more.

"Not too busy to assault a sovereign nation and kill a monarch, it seems..."

Shakiena raised her left hand and pointed it into the Sin'dorei's face - gathering shadows darkening her silhouette. And yet, the snarl on her face was readily apparent. She was displeased.

"You know... what I did to defy her orders…” she all but growled. “Don't you dare paint me into her corner again... my regiment of guards and I went through great pain to spare Sunreavers from Proudmoore and the Hold!"

Her words echoed heavily of the umbral influence inherent in her ilk.

“Don't... patronize... me.”

The Magister raised his hand, in a casual, defensive manner. He recognized well enough he’d unintentionally struck a nerve.

"I implied no such thing.” he replied, calmly. “I know - and respect - what you did during that terrible time."

He bowed his head slightly, lending sincerity to his words. It was true; Shakiena and her detail of guards were among the few - if not the only - Kirin Tor-aligned officials who defied Lady Proudmoore, and worked to actually spare what Sunreavers they could during the Purge. He’d heard reports of some sin’dorei being helped by them, but didn’t believe a word of it… until her name was associated with the rumor. It both surprised him, and didn’t. There were numerous factors to their continued friendship, of course. But the role she played in helping protect his people was chief among them.

"But my point remains;” he returned to the conversation at hand. “Proudmoore was the catalyst."

"Proudmoore was a mistake!" the woman bit back - stepping to the side, however, as she pulled each of her hands up to her head and dragging her fingers through her hair and over the tendrils that protruded from her crown. “I don't want to risk another one... not again. Never again do I want to see these streets stained with elven blood..."

Bey’ron turned fully to Shakiena, peering at her both appraisingly, and with concern. She was rather shook up by this development. He knew her reason for calling him here was urgent… but he had a feeling she wasn’t telling him everything. Intentionally, unintentionally… or because she had no choice… he couldn’t say for sure. Nonetheless, seeing her like this was a sobering reminder that trauma from the Purge wasn’t sin’dorei-exclusive.

"... If you see a need for my kin to vacate the city, lest things return to that route... don't keep it to yourself, Stillwater." he spoke, tone measured and stoic. "If such is the case, I can't see the Sunreavers or their operations being much cause for that. But if you see another reason that would be a reasonable risk in the near future..."

He trailed off, still peering steadily at Shakiena. She seemed to regain her composure… if only slightly.

"I want you to speak with whomever among the Sun Council still has ties to the Sunreavers.. find out what they can, how many, and if any have ties to Dalaran still..." the woman said, her vocals on the verge of cracking. "Don't... don't vacate anyone yet. Not until we know more."

Her eyes darted over Dalaran. Expression pensive, troubled… and yet somehow, resolute all the same.

“On my mother's name.. I will do everything I can to forewarn you should your people be in any danger…” she nodded, firmly. “Just.. speak of this to your people in whispers... keep it in your Council's chambers... risk no one, if it can be at all helped."

The Magister looked Shakiena over, face devoid of his usual haughty smirk - replaced instead by sobered worry. This was bigger than he presumed. The scope was still something of a mystery… but any concern large enough for Shakiena to invoke a promise on her mother’s name was more than noteworthy. He wouldn’t take it lightly.

"... I'll see to it." he put simply and short.

Shakiena breathed a shaky sigh of relief, and nodded gratefully.

"Thank you, Bey'ron... for meeting me." she said, before she turned her head over her shoulder to peer at the felhound..."Still.. could've done without the dog.. but I digress."

Bey’ron let out a dramaticized sigh, waving his hand in dismissive fashion.

"I only came because I had other business, here.” he smirked, clearly lying. “Don't think I'm at your beck and call, Stillwater."

He, too, glanced back to Kreezun. With a scoff, he shook his head.

"And I'll leave Kreezun behind when this city's a safer place for people like me. But given our conversation here... I don't presume that will be the case anytime soon."

"The Convocation of Silvermoon came to Dalaran almost exclusively because demons were rampaging through the streets due to unchecked magic.." Shakiena said, laughing, "...And considering how many demons were hiding in our midst in the war with the Legion? I'd be pretty hard pressed to assume they'll ever be safe, but alas..."

She returned her attention to the owner of said dog for a change.

"Mother wouldn't let it down if I didn't at least make an effort to do right by your family's name... I'm sure I could convince someone to make an exception."

“Hmph! It's not the demons in your Purple city I worry about...But alas, time will tell how much more or less safe this place becomes for an elf of my import and standing, hmm?" Bey’ron grinned. "Nonetheless, set aside your worries about what it is your mother would wish of you. In my experience with that woman, there was always something she'd see done better."

He chuckled lightly, in reminiscence. Their rivalry got heated at times - he came this close to having her killed, in fact! And yet, going toe-to-toe in a battle of wit and words with Shi'leyne constituted some of his fondest memories. Water under the bridge now, anyway.

“Or at least... differently.” he conceded. “But perhaps that was just due to her ceaseless need to criticize and oppose me."

Shakiena rolled her eyes, then turned as if about to leave-- stopping rather abruptly and placing her right hand on the guardrail as she was again presented with the felhound's hideous visage before her.

"I'll be sure to pass that particular criticism along... who knows? Maybe she'll be here next time instead of me..." the Archmage suggested, peering over her shoulder back at the Magister - the smirk only present in her vocals at the implied threat.

"Hmph.” Bey’ron half-laughed. “If I even suspect she might show up... I'll be bringing another escort along with me!”

The two shared a moment of light chuckling, as the conversation concluded. Concerning as it was, Shakiena’s warning was well-received. At a minimum, it reaffirmed not allegiance, but respect at least on the Archmage’s part, for the nation of her origin. Too few elves who had branched off for one reason or another retained such respect for the High Kingdom. It was refreshing to see Shakiena remained exceptional.

"Shorel'aran, Stillwater." Bey’ron smirked, bowing his head slightly.

He gestured once more, calling Kreezun back to his side. The demon snarled a bit as it passed the Archmage by, but kept clear of her path all the same.

"Shorel'aran, Everblaze. May the sun not scorch your gloomy fucking shadow in the morning." Shakiena returned, sidestepping the felhound as she slipped through a conjured portal nearby.

"You might be surprised, by the way…” she added, voice echoing in a disembodied fashion “How much she's changed.."

With that, she left… before Bey’ron could inquire what she meant by all that.

(( @syrielle & @thesuncouncil for mentions! ))

[forestwater87]

Secret Santa 2018 - Chapter 2

Continuing my @campcamp-secretsanta gift for @pikablob! You can find Part 1 here.

CW: Something vaguely gore-adjacent. Lots of angst, because all Dadvids have angst, and I’m kinda doing All the Dadvids.

(One evening Gwen returns to the cabin to find Harrison sleeping on Nurf’s shoulder while the older boy plays on his phone. He gives her a challenging look -- not quite angry, but a fierce “what of it?” that chases the smile from her face until she’s safely out of view.

Later that evening he gives Harrison a wedgie and David worries that they’re not getting along.

She tells him they’re getting along as well as any brothers can be expected to.)

CHAPTER TWO: HARRISON

Harrison appears in the middle of dinner. Literally.

One moment Gwen’s debating Nurf about the finer details of the true-crime documentary they’ve been watching on her parents’ stolen Netflix account --

poof

“Holy Jesus farts!”

“Oh my gosh, oh my god what is that --”

whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck

-- the next the room is filled with screaming, knocking-over-chairs-to-get-away-from-the-table pandemonium.

Quartermaster, somehow, is the one who recovers first. He’s not even in the room; the door to the Mess Hall bangs open -- a rush of icy air, screams starting anew at the sudden noise and the terrifying silhouette of a hooked figure in the doorway -- and he stumps his way in. He bysteps David, who fell backward at some point in the last twenty seconds and has just managed to get to his knees -- Nurf, holding his plate up like a shield, ignoring the sauce dripping down it onto the clump of spaghetti that covers his shoes -- and finally Gwen, who’s somehow still at her seat, sitting and staring at the middle of the table and the apparition that appeared on it -- and scoops Harrison up by his collar, holding him with his toes brushing the floor and the back of his shirt impaled on QM’s hook.

Quartermaster grunts. “Child’s here.”

She manages to find her voice somewhere in the airtight tangle of her vocal chords. “Yeah. Huh.”

“‘S’not the usual one.” He jabs his hook, Harrison dangling from it like a large Christmas ornament, in Nurf’s direction.

“No, it isn’t. That’s . . . Harrison. He was here last summer.” Despite everything, Gwen feels strangely calm. “You can put him down now, QM. Thanks.”

He grunts once more, inclining his head slightly toward her, and dumps Harrison onto the floor. He shuffles out without another word -- though no one really notices, not when their attention is so thoroughly arrested on the former camper, who pulls his knees up to his chest and buries his wet face in them. Startled silent by the Quartermaster (who has that effect on people), Harrison begins crying again, huge barking sobs that were drowned out by their screaming at first but are thunderously loud now that the room has gone silent.

Gwen realizes one hand is holding a wand. The other is holding an arm.

David steps closer to Harrison, kneeling down after a moment and touching the boy’s shoulder with one shaky hand. “Um, h-hey, buddy --”

Harrison jolts from the contact like it’s a cattle prod, curling in tighter around himself with a damp gasp and shaking his head violently.

“I didn’t mean to -- I just wanted -- he was --”

Nurf moves until he’s standing next to Gwen. “He’s in shock,” he says, with the unflappable confidence of a kid. Lowering his voice so only she can hear, he mutters, “You’re supposed to slap someone when they’re in shock.”

“Don’t even think about it,” she whispers back, putting one hand between his meaty shoulder blades. It grounds her, makes everything seem a little less surreal. “Go get a blanket from the supply room.”

Nurf shrugs but looks thoughtful. “Guess that works, too.” As he heads off toward the back of the building, he adds quietly, “Probably not as well though.”

“It’s okay,” David’s murmuring. He tugs gently on Harrison’s shoulder, pulling him into an awkward half-hug and petting his hair. “It’s okay, shh, it’s okay . . .”

“I just wanted to bring him back for Christmas,” Harrison manages. The words sound like they’re choking him.

Unsure what else to do, Gwen starts cleaning up what’s left of dinner.

It takes a while to coax Harrison into a state calm enough to talk. He stops crying after they get him wrapped up in one of David’s knitted blankets, tucked in so thoroughly that only his head sticks out of the lumpy wool, but he’s pale and silent. He fought hard when they tried to take the arm, so it’s sitting on his knees like a sword.

(David pulls Gwen aside, vibrating with barely-controlled panic, and whispers that it’s not a mannequin arm, it’s bloodless and cold but it’s skin real skin and oh golly Gwen he felt hair on it -- )

(She tells him to go get another blanket, because she doesn’t know what to do with anyone and it’s either blankets or slapping and she wants to set a good example for the kids.)

The kids.

Her kids, temporarily.

Her weird, violent, dismembered-arm-holding kids.

This is without a doubt the strangest year of her life.

She turns on the TV, partly to distract Nurf -- who’s been staring at Harrison with unabashed curiosity since everyone stopped screaming -- and partly just to have something to cut through the silence. When David returns laden with so many blankets that half of them are trailing on the ground, cold and soggy from their snowy trip from the Mess Hall, she tells him to hang the wet ones up to dry and goes into their bedroom.

There, sitting on her bed with David’s handwritten address book balanced on one knee and Woody, his dumb stuffed log, in her lap, Gwen dials the number for the Willis household -- one she rarely has to reach out to, because as much trouble as Harrison causes it’s rarely something a fire extinguisher and a stern talking-to (David’s words) can’t fix.

He’s a good kid.

Dangerous -- perhaps she didn’t realize how dangerous until he Apparated onto their dining room table with a severed limb -- but a good kid nonetheless.

His mother sounds tired and a bit harried when she answers, but not frantic. “He’s where?” she asks, when Gwen explains the situation (minus the arm and hysterical crying parts). “He said he was . . . when he practices his -- gifts we usually . . .” Her voice pulls away from the phone. “Claude, can you check on Harrison? He’s out back.”

He isn’t, Gwen thinks, but she keeps her mouth shut. She’s always on eggshells with Harrison’s parents; they both seem so fragile, and it feels like any wrong word could cause a meltdown.

She waits through a few minutes of quiet, then a quick, muffled conversation. Finally Mrs. Willis (Carol, reads David’s jagged handwriting in the address book) returns to the phone. “You say he’s there? Is he safe?”

“Uh . . . yeah. Sure.” Physically speaking.

“Can I talk to him?”

She glances at the closed bedroom door, gnawing on her lip. “Maybe not right now?” she says awkwardly. “He’s really tired from the, you know, journey.”

“I see.” There’s something heavy in her voice, a kind of knowing that sits like a weight on Gwen’s chest. “But he’s really all right?”

She decides she’s going to double down on the lying, though she’s not sure who she’s protecting. “Oh, definitely. Fit as a fiddle, or . . . something.”

“And you’ll have him call me as soon as he’s feeling better?” The earnestness in her tone is oddly touching.

“Totally.”

She mentally prepares herself for signoff -- and for dealing with whatever’s waiting for her in the other room -- when Carol speaks again, almost too quietly for Gwen to catch. “Maybe it’s for the best.”

“Huh? What was that?”

“He seems so happy there. Like he can be himself without . . .” She sighs, and there’s a world of misery in it, a story Gwen can barely begin to guess at. “Maybe things would be better if he . . . Never mind. Please have him call.”

Gwen hangs up the phone, wondering if she just witnessed something profound, something that looking back will seem like a turning point.

“Don’t be stupid,” she mutters, climbing out of bed. At the last minute she grabs Woody and brings it into the living room with her.

David somehow managed to get both Nurf and himself into blankets, and the three of them sit facing the TV in a neat row on the couch. The light from the screen washes out their faces, making them look like ghosts wrapped up like burritos -- or in straitjackets. She sets Woody on David’s lap and takes a seat in an adjacent chair. David’s arms are bound too tight to pick up the log, but he beams at Gwen and then smiles down at it, wiggling slightly to get it more securely settled in his lap.

Nurf’s eyes dart from the TV to Gwen, an obvious question in them. She shakes her head slightly; Harrison hasn’t looked away from the television -- though she suspects he’s not actually watching it -- but his posture went stiff and still once she entered the room.

She clears her throat uncomfortably. “So, uh. I talked to your mom.”

Harrison flinches, his eyes dropping from the direction of the TV to his feet.

“She wants you to call when you’re up to it.”

He nods at the floor, his shoulders drooping.

“There’s no rush,” she adds, surprising herself -- because if there’s one thing they don’t need and she certainly doesn’t want, it’s another kid to deal with in her off-season. But Harrison looks like he’s wilting under the pressure of something she can’t fathom, and apparently David’s softened her, because she can’t help but think the Willises could all use a break. She leans forward and reaches out toward the arm, drawing back before Harrison can worry she’s taking it away from him (or she has to touch that apparently-real skin). “But we should also probably talk about that.”

His gaze flicks up to hers suddenly, anguish she’s scared she could drown in. “It was gonna be a Christmas present,” he whispers, his voice barely cutting through the soft fuzz of the TV. “I thought Mom and Dad . . . and after everything I’ve learned here, I thought . . .” He looks down at the arm and his voice wavers. “I just wanted to bring him back.”

Tears drop on the pale, dead limb.

“This was all I got.”

“You should think of it as good news,” David says the next afternoon. They’re in the food court of Sleepy Peak Mall, hunched over lukewarm Chinese. As holiday shoppers stream past, parting around their small island of a bolted-down table and the small pile of shopping bags at their feet, he and Harrison could be in their own little world. “Your powers are getting so much better!”

He doesn’t add that he’s sure Harrison will be able to summon the rest of his little brother in no time. Even he isn’t quite optimistic enough to try and encourage something so dangerous.

After a conversation with his parents, it is quietly agreed that it would be for the best if Harrison spends the rest of the school year at the camp. David watches the panic grow in Gwen’s eyes at the thought of their little family growing, and throws himself into preparations, reassuring them both that this will be easy and fun. He doesn’t even let her take the day off work, shooing her out the door like any other morning. He knows she’ll be more comfortable somewhere familiar and grown-up, and he has the day off, so he’ll be just fine! (Nurf isn’t thrilled about suddenly having to share the other counselors’ bedroom, but he surprisingly doesn’t complain -- just shoves all of his things to one side of the room and reminds David that they’re keeping the spare cots in the supply shed, and to check for bugs and mice before bringing it in. David has to blink and look away to keep from tearing up with pride.)

A quick shopping trip for clothes and supplies, and David’s feeling like he has quite the handle on things.

(If his heart rate has been a little high all morning and he can’t stop his leg from bouncing, that’s just the excitement. Certainly he has nothing to be anxious about!)

It’s only been a few hours but he’s already reworking his Nurf Plans, altering them for Harrison and developing new ones that more closely fit the boy’s personality. Harrison is much more talkative than Nurf, even now, and David finds that a few well-placed questions and words of praise perk him up whenever he starts looking gloomy. He’s a very open person in a way that Nurf isn’t -- eager to please and even more so to talk about magic (illusions, right. He has to remember they’re called illusions). Even when there’s tension crackling at the edges of the conversation, landmines that David does his darn best to step widely around, there’s still conversation and that’s a world of difference from the first weeks, let alone days, with his other year-round camper.

Now, though, with shopping done and nothing but a few minutes’ worth of orange chicken in front of them, he can’t stop Harrison from worrying at the thought that’s been stuck at the front of his mind all day. “He doesn’t have an arm anymore,” he mumbles, prodding at his food with the wrong end of a chopstick. “Wherever Dyl is, he’s missing an arm and it’s my fault. Nurf says people can die from losing an arm.”

David sighs. He’ll have to have a stern talking-to with Nurf about when thoughts should be kept on the inside instead of spoken out loud. “Oh, I’m sure he’s all right!” he replies, looking down at his chicken. Queasiness lurches his stomach and he quickly returns his gaze to Harrison’s downcast face. “That’s usually from . . . well, from blood loss, and there wasn’t any! I’ll bet Dylan is right as rain.”

Harrison just shrugs and takes a reluctant bite, and they finish their food in silence.

It isn’t until they’re driving back home that it occurs to him that he overlooked something important. “Hey, Harrison?” he says, glancing away from the road to put an uncertain hand on the boy’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault, bud. Whatever happens.”

He doesn’t say anything back, but the quiet between them feels a little bit lighter.

They can’t depend on Campbell for any more shrink money -- the Millers already think he’s seeing a counselor, and it’d be hard to explain why he’d need two -- but Harrison’s parents are surprisingly generous. “We had him speak to someone after Dy -- after his brother . . . after that incident,” his mother says over the phone, “but he always seems so confident, when he said he didn’t need to go anymore we believed him.”

Harrison is confident, especially that he doesn’t need therapy. Once the check comes in the mail, Gwen sets up an appointment, and he spends the entire week before arguing that there’s nothing wrong with him except that he needs to control his illusions, and if they really wanted to help him they would sign him up for some real magic classes.

Gwen snaps back that it’s not like there’s a fucking Hogwarts to send him to and they’re doing the best they can, and he backs off immediately -- not apologizing, but going quiet and shrinking like a bad dog. After that they don’t bring up the subject again, and he goes with Nurf to counseling without an argument.

Does it help? It must.

Or maybe time just works its own form of magic.

Because by the time the grass begins to peek through the gray-dirty snow, Harrison is like he was at camp: arrogant, a showoff, unshakably confident in his own excellence yet also needy for attention and validation. He surprises both counselors (and delights David) by being snuggly; he’s self-conscious like any other preteen boy, especially when Nurf is around to make fun of him, but he sits too close on the couch and instinctively hugs them goodnight.

(One evening Gwen returns to the cabin to find Harrison sleeping on Nurf’s shoulder while the older boy plays on his phone. He gives her a challenging look -- not quite angry, but a fierce “what of it?” that chases the smile from her face until she’s safely out of view.

Later that evening he gives Harrison a wedgie and David worries that they’re not getting along.

She tells him they’re getting along as well as any brothers can be expected to.)

The money continues arriving, more or less on a monthly basis. Each check is bundled with a letter, usually from Harrison’s father -- “He expresses his feelings better in writing,” Carol Willis explains to Gwen and David, in phone calls that begin daily, then gradually become less frequent until by the time Harrison is in high school he only speaks to his mother once or twice a year.

But in all that time the checks keep coming like clockwork, and so do the letters.

Neither of them know what the letters say; Harrison’s usual chattiness dries up when it comes to his family, and they’ve made it a point to respect their campers’ privacy. Although once when David is rummaging around the boys’ room for their most recent report cards -- he’s making a gold-star system for the new quarter, and he wants to set reasonable-but-optimistic expectations for each of them -- he finds the last page of a letter. He doesn’t deliberately read any of it but his eyes snag on the last line like a fishhook:

“I want you to remember it’s okay, Harrison. It’s not your fault.”

He sets it aside and resumes his search, finding another letter at the bottom of a pile of drawings (costume designs for Harrison the Magnificent). And at the bottom, the same final words.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

A bookmark in one of his comic books:

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

Fallen behind his dresser. Under his bed. Crammed into his backpack.

“It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not your fault.”

By the time he finds the report card he can barely read it, the letters swimming and blurring together. He wipes his eyes with his sleeve and quickly abandons the room, holding the slightly-crumpled paper to his chest.

He wonders how many times a child can be told something’s not their fault before they become convinced it must be.

As Harrison’s collection of letters grows, so does his comfort with the new situation. Gwen notices her book collection being slightly rearranged -- things keep disappearing, and when she finds them again she swears they’re never in the place she left them -- but it isn’t until Quartermaster knocks on her door one evening, Harrison dangling by the collar from his hook, that she realizes just how bored the kid is. He and Nurf can use Gwen’s laptop for homework when the ancient camp computer breaks down, but otherwise that creaking old machine is his only non-school connection to the outside world; and he doesn’t take to the camp like Nurf does, listlessly exploring the empty stations and the surrounding woods but never able to entertain himself with it for more than an hour. He helps David out with repairs when asked, but he also tries to speed things up with magic (with results ranging from “kinda cool” to devastating).

Then QM interrupts -- well, it doesn’t matter what he interrupts but suffice it to say, David is incredibly embarrassed and Gwen is not in the mood for any bullshit -- to deliver Harrison back into their care. It takes a few minutes (that she’s still very much not in the mood for) to wheedle out of him that he’d been “looking for supplies” in the Quartermaster’s Store, and a few more to get him to admit that he’d just been curious, and bored, and looking for something to read.

The next morning she borrows the campmobile to get their strange little family a library card, and comes home with the backseat full of magic-related books, children’s fiction, and anything else that seemed like it might appeal to a ten-year-old boy with a tendency to accidentally blow things up.

To her surprise, all three of her housemates divvy up the books with enthusiasm. She’s also surprised when Nurf and Harrison nearly come to blows/firefight over the biography of Richard Potter, and even more so when it abruptly ends because The Hobbit catches Nurf’s attention. (She is not even remotely shocked when David uses the kids’ argument to snatch up a couple sappy-looking children’s novels. Or when he spends the next several minutes deliberately avoiding eye contact once he realizes she noticed.)

There are a lot of almost-fights as the boys get used to sharing a living space. Gwen would never in a million years have put Harrison and Nurf in the same tent -- if she could, she’d put them in separate campgrounds -- but now that they’re stuck sharing a room, she and David are always on-call to referee, break up fights, and patch up physical and emotional injuries. The first few weeks are a constant backdrop of yelling children.

Gwen looks into the cost of getting her tubes tied more than once. (She can’t afford it.)

Then one evening Harrison’s moping dramatically in their small living room, draped across the back of Gwen’s chair as he wonders aloud (again) why Nerris doesn’t seem to like him. Without looking away from The Fellowship of the Ring, Nurf says, “She feels threatened that you can do tangible magic, and the way you’re always showing it off makes things worse.”

Harrison lifts his head, scrambling to keep his hat in place. “Really? Did she say that?”

Nurf does glance up then, fixing Harrison with an incredulous glare (which David will later insist he picked up from Gwen). “No, fart-face. I have keen observational skills, which you should seriously consider developing.”

“Be nice!” David calls over from the other side of the room, looking up from the beaker he’s whittling to frown at them. Nurf scowls and returns to reading, his finger slowly moving across the page to keep his place.

After a few minutes of silence, Harrison sidles over to the couch, perching next to Nurf’s feet like he’s worried about being kicked (which isn’t an irrational fear). “So,” he mumbles, shooting him a sideways glance before exaggeratedly inspecting his fingernails, “you can just . . . tell things about people? By looking at them?”

Nurf doesn’t respond, though his finger stops moving and his scowl deepens.

“Can you teach me?”

“You’re kind of self-absorbed, Harrison. It probably won’t work.” He sighs heavily. “But my therapist says it’s good to be helpful instead of always resorting to violence, so . . . yeah. Fine.”

Suddenly his leg shoots out, kicking Harrison in the thigh and knocking him from the couch with a yelp.

“Be nice!”

“What was that for?” Harrison demanded, climbing to his feet and rubbing his leg.

Nurf shrugged, returning to his book. “You can’t expect me to improve all in one day. I’m just a kid.”

Summer rolls around again. David, after a few conversations Gwen’s surprised to find Nurf takes seriously, takes it upon himself to sign Nurf up for two camps: Football and Carpentry, one of the handful of new activities they’re trying out. Harrison remains in Magic Camp, which he never really needed an official “camp” for anyway; he so far outstrips Gwen and David in terms of talent that they can’t look up anything online or in a book that he couldn’t, so they leave him, like last summer and like the rest of the year, to continue to teach himself. He can now summon water as well as fire, which makes both counselors much less worried about leaving him to practice alone, and is very excited about something called “transmutation.” (He’s tried to explain it to both of them several times, but they still don’t really understand what it means.)

He hasn’t mentioned anything about trying to summon his brother again. They haven’t asked.

Most of the campers, to their surprise, return. Neil returns complaining about Science Camp (though he begrudgingly admits that the conditions are somewhat less dangerous than last year). Ered returns despite what the Millers assure David and Gwen are “very serious misgivings,” and with the understanding that the camp will be under very close federal inspection. Nikki returns and immediately tries to pee on the flagpole to “mark her place” again, and Space Kid, just like last year, immediately fell trying to climb off the bus and gets his helmet coated in mud.

Max returns, too. David has been fluttering with nervous anxiety ever since they received his camp application form, but his most challenging camper greets him like no time has passed, responding to his “Welcome back to Camp Campbell!” with rolled eyes and a tired “suck a dick, David” before immediately seeking out Nikki and Neil.

(David tries not to get emotional when Nikki sweeps the other two up in enthusiastic hugs. He fails, and quickly turns his attention to helping Nerris untangle her cape from the bushes to recover himself before Max can notice.)

Summer happens.

It feels just as endless as it always does, and just like always, it ends far too soon.

[caiotlyn]

Home for the Holidays

Title: Home for the Holidays

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Words: 1462

Warnings: mentions of parental death, slight angst

A/N: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, my lovely readers! Here’s a fluffy little Christmas fic for y’all. Hope you’re all having a wonderful holiday, and if not, feel free to message me or send me an ask and we can hang out! :D

This fic takes place pre-season one, so Sam‘s just left for college, and Dean’s on his own.

Also, this is my first time using a tag list, so I’m sorry if I tagged you on something you didn’t want to read or if you just didn’t want to be tagged in general. Just send a me a message and let me know you want off!

Feel free to check out the rest of my masterlist!!

~~~

The dingy bar smelled strongly of smoke and alcohol, but Dean needed a drink, and that was all he could focus on.

He huffed as he sat on the barstool and gruffly asked for a beer. The bartender  gave Dean his drink and hurried off to help the next customer. Dean took a swig from the bottle, not really caring that the drink tasted funny.

He had been somewhat emotionless these past few days; for once he’d be spending Christmas alone. Sure, he never celebrated much when Sam and their dad were around, but at least he wasn’t holed up in some random flyover state getting drunk off bottom shelf liquor.

“Is that Dean Winchester I see sitting alone on Christmas Eve?”

Dean spun quickly, recognizing the person’s voice almost immediately.

“Y/N?” The girl jokingly curtsied, and the two laughed. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Dean hopped off the barstool to pick the girl up and spin her around. “How long has it been? Three years?”

“I think we’re coming up on four now, but who’s counting?” Goodness, that smile on her still seemed to melt Dean’s heart, even after all these years. “What’ve you been up to? Where’s your old man?”

“He’s, ah, occupied at the moment. I actually don’t know where he is right now. I split off from ‘im a while ago.”

“Oh… well that’s too bad. Last time I saw John he got so drunk that he started telling me stories about your toddler days,” Y/N said with a chuckle.

Dean jabbed a finger at her chest playfully. “I’ll have you know that I was an adorable child.”

“You keep sayin’ it, and I just might believe it.”

“So,” Y/N started as she took a seat at the bar, Dean joining her. “What’re you doing in a crappy bar on Christmas Eve, anyway?

"Sam’s in California, Dad’s who knows where, and I’m here–not much to it.”

"Well, if you’re up for it, I’m getting some friends together, and we’re gonna be celebrating the holidays up at our cabin. Why don’t you join us?” Y/N smiled warmly. “It’d be a great time to catch up. From what I’ve heard, you and your dad have been all over the place.”

Dean didn’t have to think twice about his answer. “I’d love to.”

~~~

Y/N’s cabin wasn’t anything special. It was a typical log cabin in the woods. Snow covered the entire property, and white string lights trimmed the roof. Frost covered the windows, but Dean could see the warm glow of light and the numerous silhouettes of the people inside.

Immediately entering the cabin, the smell of apple pie and honey-glazed ham hit Dean’s nose. His eyes drifted to the living room where a group of people were talking over beer, and a fireplace crackled in the corner.

Dean felt a bit out of place–like he was intruding on an exclusive family event.

Y/N seemed to notice Dean’s uneasiness and took his elbow and led him to the kitchen.

There, a woman with long, braided hair and a puffer vest was taking a pie out of the oven while a bald man with a lumberjack-esque beard was chopping carrots.

“Rebecca, Quentin!” Y/N called, holding her arms out for a hug.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you, doll,” Rebecca said as she returned Y/N’s embrace.

“How’s it going, Y/N/N?” Quentin asked.

“I mean, you haven’t managed to burn down the cabin yet, so I’d say pretty good.”

Quentin threw a piece of carrot in her direction and mumbled a “shut up.”

“Guys, this is my friend, Dean.”

Rebecca and Quentin both said a cheery “hi,” and Dean was put a bit at ease. Y/N excused herself and Dean from the kitchen, eager to show him around.

“Come with me for a second,” Y/N said.

She led Dean down the hall past the living room and into a bedroom, closing the door softly behind them. Dean looked around the room, taking in all of the details with interest. He assumed this was Y/N’s room based on the photo garland above the bed. One specific photo caught Dean’s eye. It was a polaroid photo that Y/N had taken of the two of them the last Christmas they saw each other.

Dean gifted Y/N an instant camera that Christmas, and she couldn’t stop taking photos all day; Dean had to stop her so she wouldn’t run out of film too quickly.

This photo in particular was taken by Sam. It was the Christmas before he left for college. Y/N and Dean were both sat on the floor in front of their puny little tree. They were wearing matching Christmas sweaters that Sam had gotten them and had their arms around each other, laughing with wide grins and rosy cheeks.

Dean remembered loathing the holidays, but as soon as Y/N showed up, everything was instantly better.

Dean’s mind then drifted to the years when Y/N first came into his life. They were both tweens who were cooped up at Bobby’s at the same, and they’d been almost inseparable. John finally picked Dean and Sam up after a few months on his own, but by then Y/N was already long gone, out on the road with her own father.

They ran into each other a few years later, both seventeen and getting ready to start their adult lives. They were both at Bobby’s again, this time for completely different reasons. Y/N’s father had died while hunting a djinn, and Dean was just stopping by for supplies. He saw her huddled in the corner of one of the guest bedrooms, and his heart nearly broke. She wasn’t crying or anything–her face wasn’t even red.

She just looked numb. Empty. Broken.

Dean knew because she looked the exact same way he did when Mary died.

He slowly entered the room, and as soon as he sat on the bed, Y/N wrapped her arms around him and sobbed into his chest. They spent the night in each other’s arms, and Bobby didn’t seem to mind one bit.

After that night, Dean promised himself that he would never see Y/N like that ever again.

The Christmas that was captured in the photo was the first one where Y/N was actually herself.

Now here they were: celebrating the holidays together in a cozy cabin and finally catching up after so many years.

Y/N laid down on one side of the bed and patted the spot next to her. “Don’t be shy, Winchester. We’ve done this before.”

Dean slowly climbed in next to her, and she snuggled into his side. They laid there for a few minutes without talking, simply enjoying the other’s closeness.

“Uh, not that I really mind, but why’d you bring me in here?” Dean asked, breaking the silence.

Y/N sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “Just wanted to be near you is all.”

“You’ve still got feelings for me, don’t ya, Y/N/N,” Dean teased.

“Shut up,” Y/N replied, shoving his shoulder.

“So what if I did,” Y/N said after a few minutes.

Dean leaned his head back to look at her face and found that she was completely serious. His heart did a flip, and a wide smile broke out of his face. “Well I’d say that I still have feelings for you, too.”

Y/N peered up at him and smiled. Without thinking, Dean leaned in and kissed her, cupping her face with one hand. For a moment she didn’t respond, and Dean was getting ready to pull away when she winded her fingers in his hair. The beer on his tongue mingled with her peppermint chapstick. A feeling of warmth bubbled up in Dean’s chest, his sense of longing now fulfilled. He and Y/N fit together seamlessly, like the kiss was meant to be.

A soft knock at the door abruptly ended the moment.

“Food’s ready!” the voice on the other side called.

“Be there in a second!” Y/N replied.

She turned back to Dean and groaned into his chest, and he chuckled at her annoyance.

“C'mon,” he said. “Let’s go get some of that delicious pie.”

“You and your freaking pie.”

The atmosphere in the main part of the cabin was one of comfort and happiness. The food was great, and the people were more than eager to welcome Dean into their little family.

Although he barely knew anyone, he had Y/N by his side, and that was good enough.

Dean might not be seeing his family for quite some time, but with Y/N, it was like he was already home.

~~~

Mrs. Whozeewhatsis Tags (+ a few others that I think might enjoy this):

@mrswhozeewhatsis @thinkwritexpress-official @itsemmyb @ezauraemmaline @matteson-crazed @charliesbackbitches @crzcorgi @ellen-reincarnated1967 @gryffindorable713 @deerlululucy @walkingencyclopediaoffandom @growleytria @thegleegeneration @samtomydeanwinchester @supermoonpanda @sis-tafics @amaranthinecastiel @becs-bunker @meganwinchester1999 @kittenofdoomage @samanddeanwinchester67 @ferferelli @iridianuniverse @the-morning-star-falls @strange-inhumanity-blog @ackleslaugh @fangirling-instead-of-working @eyes-of-a-disney-princess @kayteonline @spnsimpleman @faith-in-dean @mamaimpala @winchesterfiesta @sleep-silent-angel @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @gadreelsforbiddenfruit @trenchcoats-and-bees @curliesallovertheplace @jencharlan @not-so-natural-spn  @thebunkerismyhome @feelmyroarrrr @beachy2014 @fandom-book-nerd @tia58 @sams-little-toy @deansleather @faegal04 @sunriserose1023 @saving-things-hunting-family @winchesterswoonathon @jotink78 @lucifer-in-leather @i-dont-know-how-to-write @everyday-supernatural-af @notnaturalanahi @howmanytuesdaysdidyouhave @supernatural-jackles @babypieandwhiskey @avasmommy224 @chelsea-winchester @spn-fan-girl-173 @besslincoln-bruh @shelovesallthethings @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish @revwinchester @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @quiddy-writes @hexparker @atwistoffate @evilskank-inthemegacoven @there-must-be-a-lock @percussiongirl2017 @ilostmyshoe-79 @luci-in-trenchcoats

[emperor-lover]

hi omg i love your minhyun scenarios so much!! cld u do one where you're both idols dating secretly but the public finds out and ships it? make it long please😘😘😘😘tyty

hi, thank you kind anon!! haha I tried making it long, and i’m sorry about the long wait! This will be in the same setting as the WGM!AU, so please read that if you haven’t yet! Enjoy!!!! xx

soooo Minhyun and you have been dating secretly ever since the WGM break up 

But one day you get a casting call to be the 2nd female lead in an upcoming drama

you’re really excited and you tell Minhyun about it

and he’s like wait, is this for this drama??

and you’re like yeah! wait how did you know?

And he’s like, I was going to tell you tonight but I got cast as the 2nd male lead!

and you’re both like omg

you’re going to be working together

what’s great is that even the public are like omfg my faves from wgm are going to be reunited on this drama

and everyone’s so excited because it’s been a couple of years since youve publicly interacted

and you know everyone kinda goes crazy when former wgm couples even so much as walk past each other or make eye contact

so the fact you’re both going to be acting together as a couple is a big deal

your managers are wary but they trust that you’ll be good at concealing it seeing as it’s already been a couple of years and no one has found out yet

also because you two have been really good at keeping your relationship a secret ever since wgm finished

like you’d never do anything that would cause suspicion

so you’d never wear couple items out when you went to the airport in case they’d get photographed

there was only one instance where both of you had promoted albums at the same time, but even then you’d make sure to only go to each other’s waiting rooms when there would be no cameras around

the time you two had gone on a date outside you had been so very careful, and had succeeding blending into the crowd like any other couple would

luckily both of you are homebodies, so lounging around at each others dorms was fine for both of you

which is why the two of you are actually so close because you literally tell each other everything

if a day has been tough for you, Minhyun just opens his arms up and you just melt into his embrace while he sings something sweet in your ear

on days that Minhyun happens to be feeling more tired than usual, you’ll bring over some homemade comfort food and some classic movies to watch until he falls asleep

you both kinda baby each other when someone is tired or under the weather, like Minhyun will tuck you into bed if you’re the one who falls asleep first and vice versa

also both of you have A++++ cuddling skills 

every couple of months on your days off, sometimes you’d go on long drives together to the countryside, where there wasn’t as many people

you’d go on walks along the coastline and find a nice area to sit and have a lil picnic

Because of how careful the two of you were though, you weren’t too sure what to do now that you’d be acting together

So on the day of the first table reading of the script, both of you just acted as if you hadn’t seen each other since wgm

Minhyun being the crap liar he is, had been attempting to to strike up a weird conversation at one point but it was so forced both of you were trying so hard not to laugh at each other

because it was being filmed, you were slightly nervous but after the video came out, you were pleasantly surprised about the majority of comments from knetz 

oh my god, look at this it’s my fave wgm couple’s reunion

aren’t they so cute, i can’t wait to see their scenes together in the drama

even at a table reading they’re perfect for each other

i wish they were dating for real ;;;;

Shooting went smoothly, especially because the chemistry between the two of you was very very real

The way that Minhyun had been looking at you was as if honey was dripping out of his eyes

“Either he’s a natural born actor, or he’s seriously in love with Y/N”

It was the same for you though, being around Minhyun all the time at work made it easy to become very casual around him

You’d playfully hit his arm if he messed up a take, or pull a silly face at him across the room before he had to act a serious scene

Fans were becoming more and more suspicious but played it off as if you two were just super close friends (which you are)

There were also a few kiss scenes, and they were all so damn natural

Even the director was like ???

Done in one-take?? Usually it takes a few more for people who don’t have much experience with kiss scenes

but nope, “you two are just so natural, it’s almost as if you’ve done this before??”

*cue nervous laughter*

so one night you’re hanging out at Minhyun’s dorm after a long day of filming and one of the pds calls you because there’s an extra scene that they need to add in to the upcoming episode and you’re needed

At the same time, Minhyun’s phone rings and it’s another pd who is also letting him know that he’s needed for said scene

And he’s like “yes, i’ll go there right away!” 

and the pd on the phone to you pauses slightly before asking…

“Why are you and Hwang Minhyun still together at 2AM?” 

So that’s how the staff found out about your relationship

Like it was obvious to people who worked with both of you closely that the two of you liked each other, but no one wanted to assume anything

Everyone was giving you knowing smiles when you went into work and you just sighed because you knew the staffs were never going to stop teasing

Literally the littlest thing they’d squeal over

“Y/N, why don’t you sit next to Minhyun for lunch break?”

“Aw did you see Minhyun gave Y/N his jacket because it was cold!”

They drink the same juice!!! That’s so cute, what do we do? Young love must be nice

Minhyun was having a concert and some of the cast decided to go to support

so you took this opportunity to go along too

Minhyun didn’t know you were going so you were planning on surprising him

and it was such a happy night, everyone bundled in backstage congratulating him on a successful concert

And you tried to sneak past to your manager who was holding onto the flowers you were planning on giving him

but Minhyun can recognise your silhouette anywhere so he immediately knew it was you bundled up in a black hoodie trying to squeeze away from the crowd

You had just about reached your manager when you felt Minhyun’s hand wrap round your wrist gently, pulling you round to face him

“Y/N!!! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming!”

His smile was practically blinding, you had to blink a few times to snap our of your daze

and you’re a stuttering mess, gesturing to the flowers and then to him and you don’t know what to say because you’re just so freaking proud of Minhyun

and he just laughs and pulls you into a hug and everyone is like OoOOOOoOOO ;))))

And you get one of the staff to take a photo of the two of you, and you both set it as your lockscreen for good luck

Usually you were both quite sweet to each other in behind the scenes videos

for example, there was a clip where you’d been playing with Minhyun’s hand, something that you tend do without thinking which was obviously the case here because you had been staring off into space

and Minhyun had just smiled at you before flicking your forehead gently

which snapped you out of your little bubble, so you scowled up at him 

and he had just giggled before tweaking your nose

so it became this little war going on of you swatting away his hands and him trying to flick your forehead or squeeze your cheeks

That though wasn’t the key player in the reveal of your relationship

What gave it away to the rest of the world was literally the smallest detail

But of course the detective fans had managed to spot something

The stylists had been fixing up Minhyun’s hair and makeup, when one of the staff had asked what the time was

And Minhyun had checked his phone

Someone had screenshotted and zoomed in on his phone until it was a blurry af image of the lockscreen

with more detective skills, fans discovered from the clothes that the people in the pic are wearing are the clothes that you were wearing to Minhyun’s concert

so surprise surprise, big reveal everyone deducts that the two of you are dating

and your company and pledis don’t deny or confirm anything straight away

also because at that time you had been preparing for a comeback with your group

and you were so worried about it affecting the comeback and also the drama negatively

You don’t even know how to react because your phone has exploded with messages

it’s just crazy overwhelming, and it’s the same for Minhyun

and you give him a call and he’s full of apologies

“Y/N, are you ok? i’m so sorry, I didn’t realise my phone lockscreen would be seen in that shot;;”

Just listening to his voice calms you down, and you try to reassure him that it isn’t his fault

“there’s no way you could have imagined that anyone would have seen that in the shot Minhyun, it’s ok!”

“I don’t know what the company is planning on doing, but all I know is that we’ll make it through this, together.”

Minhyun tells you to go to sleep early and wait to see what your companies statements will be in regards to your relationship in the morning

you’re scared to log on to check the news and you decide to avoid it completely

but your group member comes rushing into your room with a big smile on her face

“Y/N! Read this!!” shoving her phone into your face

You take the phone hesitantly but your eyes widen when you read it

Literally pages of comments praising your relationship and how happy they are that it’s real 

Everyone ships it.

Most of your friends were surprised that you were able to keep it hidden for so long

And the two of you still try to keep it super lowkey because no one likes it when couples are super PDA

BUT at the end of the year, you attended the big awards ceremony with Minhyun and everyone was just so amazed

because damn you guys are like so hot, wtf it’s really not fair

Minhyun is wearing this reallllly nice tuxedo that does so much justice for his broad shoulders and long legs

it’s like how is it possible that these two people who have great personalities, and are such talented visuals, exist??

AND THEY’RE DATING EACH OTHER?

Life isn’t fair, where are all the other people in the world who are perfect like you guys?

So of course, it was no surprise when they announced you and Minhyun as the winners of the best couple award for the drama you were in

And Minhyun’s such a gentleman, offering you his hand when you’re going up and down the steps to collect the award

and his eyes never leave your face during your thank you speech

and both of you are just so thankful that everything is just so perfect and meant to beeeee

like wow love really does exist, don’t lose hope y’all i say as I type out these scenarios and cry because it’s so unrealistic, you can only dream

lol the ending im sorry ;;;; anyways, thanks always for reading!! 

[progeny-of-the-fury]

The Truancy of Guillemont | Part II

Log date: 11/27/17

OOC Note: The text in these logs are strictly for the reader’s enjoyment. Anyone using the knowledge displayed within this text without the participant’s knowledge risks the potential of blacklisting from future communication and roleplay. Please do not meta-game!

Tags: @darkknightsbread @pom-friend

A moogle is a strange creature. Tiny, plump, round, with a glowing pom up top and wings out its back. Innocent, quirky; a moogle is not good at a great many things. Their size does not lend to physical labor or combat, unless a great deal of aether is expended, and their eye for quality and crafting is but barely tapped into. One thing a moogle excelled at, outside of playing pranks on others, was getting a letter where it needed to go. And this particular letter found its way to Hikari, a woman formerly known as Uyraies, no matter where she was. The language within was rather urgent, only scarcely detailing that the De'bayle House was unable to find where Sir Guillemont was, and that we requested her presence to speak on the matter... 

Denz and Adelise took the time away from their perusing of his study to meet with Hikari, while Astrelle continued piecing the parts together. 

Standing beside her cousin, Adelise held her typical cold stare. She did not know this woman, nor was she very close to Guillemont. Even still, they were her family and she was here to find him. And they would find him, no matter what it took.

It wasn't all that difficult, moogle or not, to find Hikari if you knew what you were looking for. The persistent glow of her lantern shield gave her away from a malm off, even through the thick haze of the boggy air. With her letter clutched in one hand, Hikari trudged up the steps to the camp overlook. Her hair was shaggy and oily, unwashed and poorly kept. Her eyes were sullen; shy, nervous, and distant, even as they rose to search for a familiar face. Her armor was in poor condition and she was absolutely caked in muck, so thick that you couldn't even tell what color her boots used to be.

In contrast to the woman's tattered look, the two knights stood pristinely beneath the glow of the aetheryte. One of the knights would have a familiar silhouette, Denz's armaments taken after his brother. Perhaps a hopeful attempt to remind everyone why they here, or simply a thoughtless ploy to accidentally confuse Hikari. They stood, waiting for any sign of the woman, before her arrival hailed a small wave from Denz.

Hikari Inamoto freezes like a doe in a clearing when she sees the familiar shape of what she thinks is Guillemont. She stares, trying to decide if it's really him, shuffling forward on one foot until he waved to her. She sprinted towards the two, her face lighting up, until she realized something was amiss and stopped short. Her dark eyes flitted up and down Denz's form before her expression fell. "...You're too tall."

Adelise was almost honoured until she realized the the woman was definitely not referring to her. Sighing out an exhale, she glanced off in some small embarrassment.

A light chuckle rumbles through the helmet, before a hand came up to push up the visor. Blue eyes looked back at the woman, tilting his head. "Aye... I do not think we'd ask you to come out here to meet us if I were otherwise,” Denz says out.

"...Oh..." Hikari laughs, just once, but there's not much enthusiasm behind it.

Denz cleared his throat, gesturing to the woman beside him * "Have you met mine cousin, Adelise? She has joined us but a few months prior, been with us through some trying times."

"S...sorry. From...a distance, you looked just like..." Hikari stammered.

"Most... caused by me..." Denz added flatly.

Reaching hands up to unclasp her helm, Adelise respectfully removed it to expose her face. With it, long umber tresses came pooling out and toward her waist. "A pleasure," she remarked in a frigid tone.

"U...uhm. No." One mud caked hand raises to pull back some of her dirty hair. "...No, I haven't. I don't think." Hikari attempted a meek smile, lifting a hand in an offer to shake, but on a second glance at herself, she retracted it and bowed her head down in greeting instead. This woman was a mess.

"Aye. Our house has taken up new colors and Guillemont's armor was a fine model to take inspiration from." Denz waved a hand for them to follow him beneath a nearby canopy. "Before we turn to the main topic, have you kept well? You were under Father Salem's 'care' last we spoke, yes?"

Dipping her head toward Hikari, Adelise offered her a stone-hard expression. Eyes following the man as he walks off, Adelise glances back toward the woman before turning to walk herself.

Denz pulls off his own helmet as they settle under the cover, placing the plate object on the barrel next to him.

Over the Adelise’s shoulder, her blue wyvern sat perched dutifully. Watching, its deep gaze was nearly as piercing as the woman's he sat on.

"I--" Hikari paused. "...Uhm. I was, for a short time. Before I left for Yanxia. I've..." She pauses, biting her lower lip. "...somehow I felt m...more at home...back here."

"More at home here?" Adelise questions aloud. "Are you perhaps of mixed culture?"

"It's been. Uhm...it's been...a...strange time..." Hikari murmurs.

A plated finger came up to rub the side of Denz’s head, wondering if that was appropriate to ask.

A light of quiet dread lit up Hikari’s eyes for a moment. "...W...well, yes. Uhm. But...that..." She trails off, crossing her arms. Her filthy fingernails pick at the ties on her gauntlets. "B...but. Uhm. You can't...you don't know where Guillemont is? I...I visited him before I left..."

Adelise accepts the woman's hesitance for not wanting to discuss the subject, respecting that and not prying further. "Did you now? It was brought to my attention in the past two sennights that his room was vacant and his fish and plants dead."

"T...two..." She looks to Denz for confirmation.

"Yes..." Adelise’s head dips in some shame, "I knew very little of my cousin, but what I did know of him, he seemed rather disheveled.. So I did not think too much of this, I figured it was normal. That was an oversight of mine, that is unforgivable. But now is not the time for self-pity."

Denz nods his head. "Aye, two weeks, if not more that he has been gone. Beyond myself and our manservant, it is my knowledge you were the only other person who had visited him." Denz set his lips, trying not to sound blaming in his tone. "Do you know where he is?"

"N...No." Hikari shakes her head. "Since...since I came back from Doma, I haven't...I haven't really seen anyone at all… There...there wasn't any sign of where he had gone? And he left...he left his armor? His sword?"

"There are a few leads, musings, directions that we're being pointed in, though none of them are good. And no, he took nothing within when he left,” Denz recounted.

Beneath the dirt on Hikari’s face, the color drained away from her flesh. "Y...you don't...he wouldn't..."

"Wouldn't what?" Denz didn't even lead her on yet with their own clues collected.

“H...he wouldn't disappear someplace to do...uhm...to do something...to...you don't think..." She couldn't even bring herself to finish her thought, huddling into herself. Her chin lowered to her chest, the edge of her palm resting against her forehead. She trembled where she stood for a moment.

"We are unsure. Our recent leads have only shown us that he has taken a rather passionate interest in Kin- Voidsent." Adelise adds.

Hikari lifts her head again and blinks, eyes glistening from the formation of tears that hadn't yet fallen. "Voidsent?"

Denz blinks in surprise. He had always known the woman to be a tad awkward and quiet, but this was clearly something afflicting her emotionally. He gently went to put a hand on her arm, and gesture to the crate next to the name. "Uyra-" He clenched his face for a moment. Wrong name. "High-kari. Do you know -anything- that could help point us in the right direction? Our manservant was hesitant to say, but he saw Guillemont's behavior akin to that of a man possessed."

Hikari Inamoto shakes her head, struggling to keep herself together as she sat. "...No. I mean. He...Guillemont w...was pretty much always interested in...uhm...the darker side of things. At least, uhm...at least he always has been in the time that we've been friends...I don't...I..." Her face contorted, eyes squinting shut. She rested her elbows on her knees and bent forward, putting her head in her hands. "I-I sh...should have n-never have even left. I knew h...he was...having such...such a hard time..."

Denz looked at Adelise, eyebrows furrowing in pity for a moment, before crossing his arms in thought, musing to himself.

"You cannot berate yourself over this, Lady Hikari," Adelise affirms in a stern tone. "It will not fix what has happened, and it is not your fault. It is more his family's responsibility than yours, and we have all failed him. Even more so, it is his responsibility. But thinking on that will not bring him back."

"But I knew he sh...shouldn't have been left alone like that. After...after his arm was injured, he was so..." Hikari pauses, "If he...he didn't know what to even do with himself. Or how to live anymore...if he..."

"Did he tell you this as well?" Adelise asked with a narrow stare toward Denz.

"B...being a soldier was the only life he knew,” Hikari says quietly.

"He was a man bedridden by his wounds. I've been there as well, so I cannot be at fault for not thinking this would be the outcome." Denz shrugged his arms."He was studying history and magic, so he kept himself busy."

Hikari Inamoto sniffs an ugly sounding snort, smearing her face in whatever the cleanest part of her arm was.

"So he had told both of you, that he lost his will for life?" she asked incredulously. Shaking her head, Adelise exhaled through her nostrils akin to a scalekin. "There is nothing that can be done about this now, other than that we look for him. Next time either of you are told a person has lost their will, never leave them in that state without informing someone," she chides.

"H...he didn't...he didn't explicitly say..." Hikari began.

"Going missing, is the most beneficial of these evils. We are lucky to not have walked into his room to find him hanging!"

"I...I tried to..." Hikari flinches, drawing her lips into her mouth.

"Not everyone can help talk someone out of such a mindset, Lady Hikari," Adelise calms her tone, "but it is important those close to him be made more aware of the potentially deteriorating state he is in." Adelise sighs, rubbing her thumb and index to the bridge of her nose. "This is beside the point now though. What is important now is our strides in finding him. Did he not offer you any potential leads to his whereabouts?"

Denz furrows his eyebrows at Adelise. "Cease your chastising. It is getting us nowhere." He looked sidelong at Hikari. "You do not understand Guillemont as we have seen him. This is different, so we could not have foreseen this."

Motioning up a hand, Adelise held a dull expression, "already done, De'bayle," she remarks flatly.

Hikari shakes her head, not seeming at all reassured by anything Adelise had to say to her. When Denz speaks, however, she takes a breath to try to get a hold of herself again. "...No. I don't know where he could have been. I, uhm. I told him that he could still...still fight if he got to be skilled with magic, or he could become a trainer for new soldiers..."

"He was looking to investigate Red mage ruins in Gyr Abania." Denz shook his head. "From where I was taken, he is not there. The last bits of reading he seemed to be dwelling in were rituals and methods of summoning Voidsent."

"...Wh...what...uhm...what was that you said before about...s...someone said he looked like a man possessed?" Hikari asked.

"Our manservant, Gaspard. He was feeding Guillemont books and tomes on various nature to him, something he had taken to in his state. He would go through treatises and books within days and request more." Denz shrugs his arms. "Not exactly like Guillemont, but with nothing better to do..." He shakes his head. "I trust his words that Guillemont was not himself in those days. He was the one closest to him in his handicapped state."

Hikari listened, then adding, "Wh...when he got injured, do you think something else happened to him?"

"He was crippled by a Captain of the Skulls, those conscripted Ala Mhigans fighting for the Garleans. There was nothing but brute force behind the man, and no cursed weaponry involved anywhere. We checked." Denz stated.

Hikari Inamoto squints and wrinkles her nose, trying to think. "Was there...was there anything that he had taken with him when he left? A map, a book, an artifact, anything?"

Denz shook his head. "I don't know." He reached into his back pocket, taking out something he probably shouldn't have taken with him. It was a small silver medallion, a copper inlay of an eye in the center. It looked cheaply made and one of many, yet still seemed... off. He hands it over to her.

Adelise simply stood watching the interaction for the time being.

Hikari Inamoto blinks at the medallion. "Oh. That's..." She takes it in her hands, holding it over her lap. "I helped him dig for this. Early on when we met. He, uhm. He hired me to come along with him."

"It must be something precious to him then, if you two were close. That he would leave it behind..." Adelise taps the side of her fingers to her chin in thought.

Denz looks down at it carefully. "What is it?"

Hikari frowns shaking her head. "It's...an artifact." Clearly. "I don't remember what exactly it does or what it was supposed to do. It's been so long since then." Her thumbs run along the sides of the medallion, and she turns it around a few times in her hands. "I think I remember he had been contracted by someone else to search for it, but he must have...it must have fallen through, or not been the right thing they were looking for, if he still had it after all this time. I don't really remember m...many more details than that."

Denz nods his head as she speaks. Now they were making progress. "I need the name of the contractor, and the location where you two went searching."

"I...I can't remember the name, but if Guillemont keeps all of his letters or...or records of leves he takes...uhm...th...though I don't know why he...well, maybe, uh...tax purposes? I think you're supposed to...I'm not actually sure on that..." Hikari stops to consider. "B...but I remember exactly where we were digging."

Denz nods, holding out his hand for the medallion. "Alright. Adelise." He looked sidelong at his kin.

"It was in the Belah'dian ruins,” Hikari adds.

"Then that is where we will look," Adelise says firmly. "Shall we make haste there now? Or plan for an expedition there?"

Denz takes back up the medallion, pocketing it. "I'm going to question the Adventurer's guild for jobs regarding Belah'dian ruins. Most likely contracted in... Ul'dah." Denz says this with a bit of a sour tone. "I'm not keen to leave her in this state. Could you take her back to the house? Help see her cleaned up? If nothing else, Guillemont would be appalled if we simply left his close friend like this."

"Indeed. You will be coming with me, Lady Hikairi," Adelise remarked in more an order than a request. "I can see you are feeling a bit... lost yourself. Whether my cousin had requested it or not, I would not have left you like this."

"I...I don't remember if the job was one that was contracted through the Guild or not..." Still covered in mud, unwashed and sullen faced, Hikari looked between the both of them. "...Wh...what are you talking about? I'm...uhm. I'm j...just fine. I-I don't want to make...to be any trouble..."

His eyes cut to her harshly, perhaps mimicking Adelise's icy glare. It was not negotiable.

"Not a very convincing argument, my Lady," Adelise adds lamely. "If we thought you were trouble, we would not take you with us."

Hikarl wilts and mumbles out a tepid, "okay."

The knight loses his look quickly, placing a hand on her arm. "We'll find him, Hikari." With that, Denz nods to Adelise and curtly spins about to leave, heading southward... Until he ran back to collect his helmet.

Adelise had securely fastened her helm to her belt, "I will be your escort this evening, my Lady," she offers her an arm, "shall we?"

Hikari carefully extends her arm to Adelise, abashedly wiping some of the grime away from her hand first. She nods wordlessly.

The young woman hardly seemed to mind the Highlanders filth as she simply went about leading them forward.

The rest of the night came with a great deal of conversation. And piqued interest...

[fictrashheap]

Dancing with the Devil : Interlude

So apparently people are still into this fic. Since I’ve forgotten my ff.net account password, I decided to post here instead. I haven’t seen all of season 5 yet but it looks amazing.

Um, yeah.

This is a quick blurb after the last chapter left off. I edited it for my own sanity as the writing is ten years old. (Holy crap) It’s a little spicy but nothing explicitly nsfw.

Okay yeah so ,without further ado, have some sad Jack/Aku

"Why do you resist, samurai?" 

Jack opened his eyes to gaze at Aku who still sat comfortably in his arms, mere inches from the floor,. The warrior lowered his gaze to stare at his foe's loosely tied jacket and inhaled the scents of fresh timber, smoke, and soap from their recently washed sheets. For a moment he found the day and all its revelations and consequences suddenly and agonizingly unbearable. A despairing sense of failure bore down on him as he gazed at the buttons on Aku's vest. He didn't want to decide, he didn't want to think.

The quality of silence changed. Jack drew the wizard up to a standing position and retreated to the other side of the room, face to the wall.

"Because it is the right thing to do," he said.

Aku laughed derisively and walked unsteadily to the fireplace. His shadow leapt onto the side of the wall and danced with the fire's light. It wasn’t a man’s shadow.

Jack caught the display out of the corner of his eye and swallowed thickly. The raw weakness unnerved him. He chanced a glimpse over his shoulder as the wizard suddenly collapsed into the chair again, legs stretched limply in parallel to the fireplace. He turned back to the wall and concentrated on its texture, its coldness, its color and design. But the pull to look was irresistible.

"I want this to stop right now, Aku."

No movement, no sound.

The samurai turned around. "Did you hear me, demon? No more. This is an insult to everything either of us stand for. Do you not see? It is..."

"Stop, samurai." 

Aku raised his hand and made a cutting gesture. The silhouette of his arm looked as thin and feeble as a branch. Jack opened his mouth to refuse, but he couldn’t find the words.

“Come here where I can see you.”

The peculiar mix of authority and resignation drew Jack from his tirade and he gazed warily at the demon's black silhouette. There was something awful about tonight, a terrible sense of destiny, of irrevocable choice, and suddenly Jack was terrified of himself. Of Aku. Of their weaknesses.

Only when the sudden flare of firelight stung Jack's eyes did he realize he had walked towards the chair. Angry with himself, the samurai glared down at Aku. The demon sat listless in his seat as if there was not a single bone in his body. Light and shadow shifted on the wizard's face and contrasted the eerie stillness of his eyes. Eyes that gazed at Jack now, unreadable and appraising.

"Why do you meddle?" The samurai asked, genuinely puzzled. "You are repulsed by this yet you must meddle. Why?"

Aku favored him a faint smile, then stared into the fire. "It is the way of my kind."

"The way of your kind is the source of all our problems," Jack retorted. "Perhaps it is time to put those ways to rest." 

Aku dig his fingers into the furniture. It made him look strangely vulnerable. His mouth twitched but he refrained from replying. Instead he forced himself out of his chair and withdrew into the dim recesses of the room where their beds sat dark and empty. The crumple of sheets announced the demon sprawling on the mattress.

Jack exhaled heavily. "Do not pout now that I have breached the truth."

Aku released a hiss. "I do not pout, samurai. I have hidden nothing from you that must be breached at this very moment."

"Why did you come to me?" Jack moved back towards the two beds. He gripped his sword as a precaution, uncertain what greeting he would receive. The demon merely spared him a venomous glance.

"You are so certain about my nature, do you not think the opposite is true?"

The samurai sat on his own bed. "You knew I would try to save you."

"Yes." The wizard lay limply on his bed, eyes nearly lost to the darkness. "Your greatest weakness is your feelings for others. It is how I will conquer you in the end."

"You have not conquered me yet."

"I still need you."

Jack stiffened but instead of leaping to the challenge, he mirrored his nemesis. "What if you need me later?"

Aku's lips twitched like he suppressed a smile. "Then, samurai, I suppose it would be too late for either of us, hmm?" His eyes swiveled back to stare at Jack. "Tell me," his voice regained some of his demonic resonance, "is this desirable to you? Am I?"

Jack blanched. That was answer enough.

The wizard laughed and revealed a mouth full of bone white teeth. "Ha haah! Oh samurai, you do amuse me." He rolled onto his side so they faced each other. "Why is it that you seek out Aku when you could have countless others?" It sounded too humble, so the demon added, "Not that they can compare."

"There is no honor in such a thing. I would not wish my life on anyone."

"Honor, yesss." Aku’s mouth slowly stretched into a grin. "I saved your life in Brii. You owe me a debt."

"That is a terrible thing to ask of me."

"Since when has Aku been anything but terrible?"

"Do not toy with me, demon." Jack stiffened and turned away to avoid the suggestion between them. "I will not let you use my honor this way."

"It is a little late for false indignation now, samurai."

"I am not the one who walks in a false body," Jack returned curtly.

"Ah?" The demon perked at that and he leaned forward. "What is that supposed to mean, samurai? Do…" his eyes positively gleamed, "do you wish to see my true form?"

"No!" Jack shut his eyes and clenched his fists. "I want..." He opened his eyes again, stalled when he and Aku were suddenly very close. "I want none of this." He finished softly, belatedly aware that their conversation might be overheard. "You would only betray me."

"I would and I will," Aku replied. He smiled unabashed and withdrew from Jack's personal space. "You would die for Ikra."

"Ikra was an illusion," the samurai retorted, all benevolence gone. "She was just a lie."

"How is this lie different?" Aku cocked his head as he sat down on his mattress. They stared at each other across the gulf between their beds.

"I will not serve a lie."

"You will not love a lie." The demon smiled his crocodile grin. "Does that mean you will serve the truth?"

Jack's angry expression deepened. "I should have let you die."

"But you did not."                

"No," Jack admitted and released a great sigh. "And I live with the consequences every day."

"Bah! A mortal's life is defined by weakness, why must you despair over yours so completely? It is pathetic. Are all heroes like you?" The demon looked at Jack square in the eye. "Was your father?"

"Do not speak ill of my family." Jack rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Of all the insults I will tolerate, that is not one of them."

"So you will simply wander this world praying that your useless father will provide meaning to a life lead so hopelessly out of context?" Aku didn't smile. He didn't have to. "That is a pitiful existence, samurai. You live off the charity of the dead."

"You wish to speak of the dead?" Jack was on his feet, furious and deafening. “My family suffered and died because of you. Their blood is on your hands."

"And I feel nothing," the demon said. "You envy that more than anything." He did grin and cocked his head to give the samurai a sly glance out of the corner of his eye. "It is the one thing you will never be able to learn."

Darkness steadily devoured the details of the room. Jack looked to the fire and saw it had burned low and glowed beneath the ashes. He crossed the room and prodded the ashes with the poker provided. When it was sufficiently roused, he took another few logs from the bundle he had purchased and threw them in. Aku approached from behind but he ignored his nemesis. He wasn’t ready. The faces of his mother and father still burned in his mind. His skin felt hot. His entire body was alight with shame.

"Leave me be," he commanded.

Aku stepped into his personal space. Hands crept onto his shoulders.

"I said leave me be!" Jack spun around to shake off Aku's grip, poker firmly in hand. "I will not be your toy."

"And what are you going to do with that, samurai?" The wizard gestured to the poker. "Your parents would..."

With a speed that astonished them both, Jack's free hand clutched Aku's throat and brought them close. "Do not even say it," he snarled quietly. "Do not dare."

Had Aku been human, he surely would have choked. Instead the demon met the ultimatum with a terrifying smile. "What will you do, samurai?"

They regarded each other in that stance for several weighty minutes. Jack opened his mouth to say something but the words lodged in his throat. He had no other recourse. Everything and everyone he had known and loved was gone. There was only one constant left. And even Aku was slipping from his grip.

That frightened him. His entire life had been defined by separation. By accident of birth, by fate, by necessity.  He didn’t want to be alone in a future without his people or the creature that destroyed them. It would destroy him.

“Hate you,” he said eventually. He gazed at the ceiling and the demon saw firelight reflect off of unshed tears. “What other choice am I left with?”

“You do not hate me. Not for this.” Aku laughed low in his throat and it reverberated through the walls. "I have been what I have always been. You are the one who has changed."

Jack didn't respond.

Aku reached up and coaxed the fingers around his throat to ease. There was no resistance. He smiled knowingly and closed the gap between them. "Just a few months ago, you would have never allowed me to come so close." He ran his fingers up Jack's shoulders, allowed the ghostly suggestion of claws to make the samurai squirm in discomfort. Both knew those hands had slain greater creatures. "You should be flattered. It is not often an unworthy human creature catches Aku's attention."

"You were defeated by such an unworthy human creature," Jack parried.

Aku snarled and pressed his hands against the samurai's shoulders. Neither of them flinched when blood began to slither down Jack's skin.

"Such impudence." Aku smiled reluctantly, pride stung. He released Jack's shoulders but allowed himself to be pulled close. They stood face to face, breathing each other's breath.

Jack sets his jaw. "One day I will destroy you."

"We will see, samurai."

Jack moved first, quick and commanding. His lips sealed over Aku's before he could add a snide remark. It was a disconcerting jumble of pleasure, revulsion, and uncertainty. Jack had some experience in such things but he felt young and unsure again. Aku seemed to share his bewilderment. The demon possessed an almost limitless knowledge in harming the human body and nearly none in pleasuring it.

As always the sensation of something inhuman lurked just beneath Jack's fingertips. The cutting knowledge what he touched was only a mask for something else.

It was awkward. Neither of them were submissive personalities but unexpected differences defied reason or previous experience, and they had only each other to turn for guidance. Only urgency pushed things forward. Jack closed his eyes and ran his hands down the demon's body. Every texture, every curve was too perfect, so perfect he felt repulsed. But beneath that, something rippled under his fingertips. Something strange and alive and unbelievably real answered his touch, and demanded a response. The same hands that made him bleed clutched his back and kept him close. The same tongue that foretold his ruin licked his neck.

Jack forced Aku's head back. His nemesis smiled wickedly at his own conquest and arched his back until they were but one creature. Questing hands discovered latches to the demon's armor and without a guiding eye, began to unbuckle the first of many layers. The wizard tried to speak, but Jack kissed him again. As punishment, inhuman fingers tore his hair down around his shoulders. Jack pulled away and stared into Aku's eyes just as mail fell to the floor.


"These things are illusions, samurai."

"I know," Jack reached for Aku's leather vest. "But do not tell me you want to keep them on."

The demon's dark smile was answer enough. He never broke eye contact as the samurai's rough fingers slipped beneath his clothing and gently pushed them off his shoulders. Neither flinched when Aku tore the white belt around Jack's waist and all the final barriers fluttered around his ankles.

They stood there for a moment, staring at each other. Something extraordinary was going on. Jack looked down. Once that line was crossed there would be no redrawing it. He stared at his nemesis draped in his human illusion. Green eyes looked back. Such cold, curious green eyes.

Had Aku asked anything of him at that moment, he could not have refused. 

Then Aku reached out to him. And he did not refuse.

It was like dying. The same uncompromising surrender to power. Jack closed his eyes, but the myriad of sensations penetrated flesh and thought. Jack could feel primal flickers beneath his fingertips. He could feel an inhuman presence lap up his thoughts, permeate them; caught within the same rhythm, but too vast to be completely consumed.

Flashes of truth. Talons beneath his fingertips, deadly strength beneath submission, deadlier amusement. Aku, was not of the natural world. He felt no love, he felt no compassion, but if Jack closed his eyes, he could ignore the absolute sight of it. He could imagine supple flesh was just that and turn away from dark intellect working underneath him. Wanting him. Because wanting was destroying.  

Yet he wanted to see that darkness, too. Wanted to understand it. Know it. And some day, transform it.   

[elysiumrp]

Congratulations TRISHA! You have been accepted as Sabrina McCarthy. Please go through the checklist and send in your account within 24 hours. If you need more time, make sure you send a message to the main.

Welcome back, Trisha! It’s been ages, but I’m so glad you decided to join us again as Sabrina. I can’t wait to see where she goes on the dash cause I know that you’ll do wonders playing her. In regards to your question about having one of her parents be from England, go for it! I definitely think it makes sense with her character, and I’m fine with either parent. Welcome to Elysium!!

OOC INFO

Name: Trisha Age: 26 Timezone: GMT Preferred Pronouns: She/Her Previous RP Experience: [RFP] Activity Level:  On a daily basis, I’m working office hours, until six in the afternoon. I’m usually free in the evenings, sometimes I need to go to a meeting or two but it’s rare. Of course, it’s also in the evening when I cook, clean and whatnot, but I tend to have at least one hour on a regular night to log in and be around. Anything Else: Nope! And I do hope I’m not missing any catches here, because I’ve read basically everything around, hahahaha.

IC INFO

Character Name: Sabrina McCarthy Second Choice Character: N/A Why did you choose this character:

I don’t tend to have a favourite type of character; I usually like them closer to who I am, a bit different, which gives me more room to develop them without strings attached. However, once in a while I need a change. Perhaps it’s my writer’s instinct telling me it’s fed up of the same old thing (like it led me to write stories in first person - which I’m not exactly a fan of - and write from a male’s perspective, as well as a variety of others experiments). I believe this time came. Sabrina is out of my comfort zone, which would push me to actually portray a character and not simply, naturally play it with my instincts. I have played characters like her before, of course, and it took me places I didn’t expect, which is always amusing.

Sabrina is apparently flawless, a privileged. Underneath layers of expensive designer clothing, imported makeup and youth, she has her own demos, caused by a relapse in the family, often amongst the wealthy ones. As I’m always drawn to the darkest bits of everything, I guess it’s concealed it all and slowly opening up the troubled cracks that led me to Sabrina. She’s very raw as a person, so I think she has a lot to be explored and refine.

Describe your plan for them: It will all depend on how things play out, but portraying Sabrina adjusting to a severe circumstance would be interesting. A more ordinary and less drastic scenario would be the loss of her clique - for whatever reason, from gossip to a misconduct in friendship from either end. How would she deal with the fact that she has no friends other them and how what would she do to come out of her decade-planned social agenda. She would be forced to interact with people that she isn’t too fond of, or even intimate of, for instance.My aim is, I want development. And with that, in Sabrina’s case, it comes with a lot of personal suffering. Her personality isn’t easy, she’s adamant about her beliefs and the way she was raised, without anything to trouble her and make her want to change; I want to put her in situations out of her comfort zone, to slowly build personal growth. And there’s no way of making someone without breaking them first.

Describe your character’s feelings, reactions, and potential involvement/want to be involved during/after the recent fall of the Council (At least a few sentences): Disbelief. Not a surprised one, but a “are you stupid?” eye-roll one. For Sabrina, everything was nothing but well-planned marketing. The media, nowadays, could do wonders to anything and anyone’s reputation - and she knew that quite well, being in her area of expertise. The videos all over the internet, the allegations - they were all publicity. That thought persisted as the first attack occurred in Times Square. It was an odd and clear cry for attention for whatever company was producing that movie/TV show/series/campaign, but it was all an act. Monster did not exist. After the third attack, her creativity perhaps couldn’t wander that far, yet she was rational and intelligent enough to realise something was wrong. That sixth sense clicked the moment he started starting at her, commanding her. Yet nothing said by Nicholas compelled her into doing anything at all. The man acted off with confidence and naturally. Sabrina fought back with teeth (ironically) and fists, running off. It was when she got home that she decided to peek through the layer of silk she were around her neck. Bite marks, trailing down her shoulder covered by blouses of long, high collars. In the danger of the madness the city was truly living now and her own, unanswered fears, she tried to play along without actually sharing with anyone how vulnerable and afraid she was, not even to her parents and closest friends, with the exception of Samantha, who took the time to explain her what many humans were still blind to, telling her small details and even teaching her a few ways to protect herself.

Para Sample:

(I’m sampling this thread, which is more developed and in depth, usually the way I prefer writing. It isn’t IC as I often struggle to write any IC applications.)

Bubbles jumped from the skillfully balanced coupe glasses seemingly superglued to the silver tray. Tulip ones would have been better to preserve the sparkly taste, but after countless refills of Moet - and some downed whiskey on the side - Ella lost her sense of criticism. Regardless of some errors perceived only by a controlling businesswoman, the celebration was, as usual, outstanding. The magazine’s filial in Canada was particularly acclaimed by their Christmas parties, a tradition in a country where snow cornered every living being. New Year was typically celebrated in New York City, back at Ella’s headquarters and main building of the fashion empire. Hard liquor could be found at an arm’s length, champagne was spurting from fountains and, needless to say, there were private areas where recreational ‘distractions’ had the prerogative of a turned blind eye.

In certain zones, the music was as loud as in a night club, the spaces dark as in the anonymity of a Vanilla Sky movie. It was a party, after all, and nobody could party better than rich, powerful people. Especially when they all held dirt on one another, which kept all the gatherings - no matter how large - always very secure for some occasional colleague lose control over the incentive of an invited outsider plus one - or multiples.

Particularly, Ella felt like indulging into champagne. It wasn’t unusual for her to drink (not lately), but the bubbly liquid seemed to be getting to her head fast enough to unleash her scarce inhibitions. It was past one in the morning, though, and consequently everyone else was cut or their way to alcohol intoxication, so the editor-in-chief didn’t mind her sharp, bold tongue and impulsive behaviour. It had proved to be fun so far, in spite of some honest, foolish mistakes.

With a half empty glass of flat Moet, the brunette detached from her crew of co-workers and headed to one of the many bars. With a bubbly smile matching her drink of the night, she requested a new coupe, taking the brief moment of wait to scan her surroundings. Coming to the party was purely an obligation, at first, but she managed to find the fun in it after some litters of alcoholic beverages. Those who knew her, were aware that the brunette was going through a rough time, regardless whether she would share the details and causes or not. Tonight, she allowed herself to feel lighter; tomorrow, she would deal with the consequences of hangover.

It seemed to have started ahead of schedule. A sting hit her temple vividly, like a pin hammered in her brain, at the blurry sight of a familiar silhouette. It was very much alive in her memory to provoke her the certainty of seeing what she thought to be standing across the room. No more than a month had it been she had last seen him, and from afar she could sense his presence, now that she was aware of it. However, it couldn’t possibly be him.

The bartender politely handed her the glass, while Ella’s azure gems wouldn’t diverge from the target her brain focused on. Her lips moved in a ‘thanks’ that was muffled by the music back in the open chamber nearby, so quietly she spoke. It was like being on a trance. In a black tuxedo, his gold-tone, slick back hair was all she could see. But the stance, the gestures he made whenever speaking to whoever was that unfamiliar person he talked to - the voice she heard had to be his, or else her mind was repeating it just for tease. Playful tricks of the mind, after too many glasses. She believed it, she also doubted it. He was away, somewhere in Europe. She was here. She came back. This isn’t happening.

He turned around. Black shawl lapel tuxedo, ebony shirt underneath - a complete full-black outfit just like that first party. Ella was also in black. Her colours were neutral, always black, beige, dark brown and, on occasion, some white. They looked like coordinating colours when most carried on the Christmas warm up in red and green. And the voice that she heard before, it turned louder as she, much to her surprise, walked toward her in the company of another man, which soon enough turned a corner and left Princeton to arrive at the bar alone. He was quicker than Ella’s despair to flee. She couldn’t hear her own thoughts, her heart was too loud in her ears.

Any questions/concerns/things you’d like to change: (siblings to add, pronouns, sexuality you’d like to specify, personality, face claim, history, etc., etc.)

If it’s possible, perhaps Sabrina’s mother of father could be from the UK? I don’t know, I’m asking because I live in Europe and there’s a few differences from the English here and from the USA. I think it could add a bit more of character to her, by having a double nationality and being raised back and forth two distinct continents. It’s not mandatory, just something I thought interesting. :)

[yoshi8869]

Chapter 1: Sunlight

“Will you ever leave me?”

“…”

The wind rustled through the trees. Silence lulled the two boys to peace in the meadow below the mountains.

“I mean it… Will you?”

“No. Of course I won’t.”

The sun was falling below the summit of one of the peaks towering above them. It grew cooler.

“But I mean forever.”

“Forever?”

A single leaf fell next to one of the boys’ head.

“You’re my best friend. I need you.”

The breeze shifted as it rolled off the mountain, blowing the leaf away.

“Forever…?”

“Forever. I promise.”

It was cast into the twilight. Shortly after, a rain fell. And it kept raining. Some say it’s raining still…

But what ever happened to that leaf, I wonder?

#

Silence. Then, suddenly: breath. A slow inhale followed by a long, quiet exhale. Silence. Deafening silence. Silence louder than any sound. Cold, like a thin sheet of ice over a calm lake in the middle of winter. It echoed of home. Home? What was home? Why is it so familiar? Suddenly: warmth. No, heat. Heat, growing warmer and warmer. Hotter and hotter. Then, a flash of light: brisk, yellow sunlight that left a reddish orange smear, outlining the capillaries upon closed eyelids. This felt like something he’d known from before, only stronger and brighter.

Open your eyes.

It was a sound that seemed to come from within: from inside the mind, almost like a subconscious, omnipotent being that commands and dictates every move. Like thought. Thought?

All at once, the light consumed everything. The yellow glare blinding and powerful. Sunlight. Why was it so brutal? Then, as if out of nothing, a memory came streaming back.

Day and night. Light and dark. Black and white.

This was the world he had always known: the world as he had been taught his entire life.

At last, after baking in the sun for the better part of an eternity, he mustered the strength to stand up. With every ounce remaining in his mangled, sprawled body lying motionless in tattered clothing on the scorching, desert floor, he rose. He stared away from the sun, not able to bear it any longer. He looked to the left, then glanced right.

No one. Nothing. There he stood, in an empty world, devoid of any life, sound, or color. Where was this? What was before this? What comes next? The questions berated him, but the answers just as vacant as the wasteland laid out before him and all around him.

The heat was like a weight, pressing down on his body: like carrying a two-ton boulder on your back across a desert in the sweltering heat. Heat like this was… unfamiliar, to say the least. It wasn’t the warmth that, in the back of his mind, he felt he used to know. No. This was the heat that killed men. Hell? If it wasn’t, then it was certainly close. But why? Why was this his apparent destiny? What did he do to deserve such horrific treatment? Sprawling wasteland and endless heat. The goddamn heat. Who could survive in—

What was that? That sound. It was the first sound he had heard since he started walking and it certainly wasn’t his own doing. But what was it? Was there something out here with him? No. There couldn’t be. This was where men went to die. No man could—

Again. No, it must be his imagination. There’s no way it was—

No, there was something out here with him. But where? There’s nothing here. No one for kilometers. This was no man’s land, not even his own. For, he thought to himself, if any man could own hell, he wouldn’t live long enough to enjoy it.

At once, a feeling engulfed him at his core. It was as though he could feel every last little blood cell surging and pumping through his arteries and back through his veins. He felt himself perspire. A sudden compulsion to start running overtook him, even though he had no idea what was chasing him, or perhaps because he had no idea what was chasing him. In the back of his mind, he could recall what this was—

Fear.

The silence stopped.

“Greetings, outlander.”

He shook with anxiety. The last thing he wanted to do was turn around. He thought of all other possible options. Endless, empty space. He could barely walk, let alone run. No chance of escape. Apprehensively, he turned to face the sun once more.

There stood the silhouette of a man, towering over like an obelisk in the sun. He stood a chiseled statue in comparison to the lanky, malnourished ghost standing before him. He had on a khaki, rough-skin vest atop a stained, white tunic with a v-shaped indention at the neck with thread to keep it tied together, although he seemed to neglect that function. On the tunic, there were marks of mud, dirt, and what could only be made out as blood dotted about. Below that, he wore brown trousers covered in dust and torn along the bottoms near the ankle.

His face, though hard to make out, was boney and covered in thick, black hair. His hair reached down to his upper shoulder blades. His beard, however, seemed fragmented and patched around the upper left cheek and in places along the jaw line. His tan skin only further blurred his figure in the sunlight. He carried a sheathed dagger on his left hip and what appeared to be another one hidden under the right half of his vest. On top of all this, he had a tattered knapsack slung across his shoulder. All of these details registered in his mind in the blink of an eye. Fascinating.

“What’s your name?” said the man.

With all his might he tried to remember. No, not his name; that was far too beyond him, but, rather, how to speak. Much like the desert, it seemed his memories had been laid to waste. He opened his mouth and pushed the words out by exhaling and forcing out sound. His articulation was a whole other task he wasn’t ready to take on just yet.

“Ida… Idun… Doughn… Don’t”

He struggled with the words.

“Do you not know, son?”

He shook his head.

The man laughed with a hearty smile.

“Most people in your situation at least know how to speak. We’ll work on that, boy. Come with me.”

He motioned to follow. But what would following him offer? Why should anyone follow a stranger in a wasteland with nothing but strands on their back? But what was his other option? Die alone in the torturous heat of the barren wasteland. Ok, he thought to himself. He’d go. His odds were slightly better this way, so he followed.

The hairy man kept up his pace, leaving the boy behind in his tracks. As they started moving, the large man fiddled in his knapsack for something. He pulled out a substance and ushered for the boy to take. With hesitation, the boy snatched the substance out of the big man’s hand. He analyzed it carefully, but nothing in the deepest logs of his mind could identify what this was.

“Eat,” the burly man coaxed.

The boy saw no value in that word and continued to study the substance.

“By the Light, boy,” the bearded man stopped in his tracks to berate the lost young man following him. “Put it in your mouth and swallow. Trust me.”

The towering man, with a halfhearted grin, stood arms folded as the boy took a small bite. Soon, instinct took over and the boy started scarfing the substance down his throat. The grizzly man let out a guttural laugh and continued on his way. The boy, too distracted by the substance to take notice, ran after the now distant man. And so, the great trek through the wasteland began.

The relentless beams of light from the sky receded into a somewhat dim resemblance of what once was unbearable. For a moment, if only for one shred of a moment, the wasteland actually felt… tolerable. The scraggly man had led him thus far, but for how much longer until they arrive at this unnamed safe haven?

“Not much longer, outlander,” he said, as if feeling the silent questions of the young ghost following at his side like a confused dog following his master to safety.

They trekked their way over small cliff sides, around colossal rock spires, and through small depressions, which made the world around them seem to tower above like a mighty, looming threat. But the brave man felt no fear, or so it seemed to his newfound companion. After what felt like half a lifetime, the sun set and they arrived at a small makeshift campsite at the edge of a small cliff near what appeared to be a cave. The colossal man collapsed down into a chair set against the wall of rock left of the entrance to the cavern.

“Sorry for being so silent, outlander.” said the man calmly. “It’s just… This happens so often as of late, you learn to just go through the motions and forget the details that actually make your job worthwhile. You see, I’m used to telling stories and entertaining my guests, but I’ve learned after telling them so much that I often confuse details or tell different parts of the stories than before: some of which may or may not have actually happened, I’m starting to figure out. My memory is failing me”

He let out a soft chuckle, then a sigh.

“It seems people these days have lost value for the truth… or maybe they’ve forgotten it entirely…”

He trailed off into silence, deep in thought, but the ghost was far too attentive of the looming darkness to contemplate what he was saying.

“You’re probably wondering why it’s getting dark, arnt’cha?”

The ghost nodded.

“There’s much you’ve forgotten about the world around you.”

He stared at the pathetic, pale thing before him, now sitting and eager to listen.

“I suppose it’s time.”

A moment of silence inserted its way into the conversation for just a second more before he continued.

“You’re going to hear a lot of stories and tales about where you are, what it means, and why it’s here. That is, if you choose to assimilate into their society: something I’ve long refused to do. People these days just get under my skin, honestly. There’s much more out here under the sun and the stars. It’s amazing how this huge, empty space of sprawling void can hold more bearings than a thriving metropolis with people every size, shape, and color. Sometimes a wealth of knowledge is more useless than a vat of ignorance. Take that as you please.”

He sat there staring at the sky, folding his arms across his chest, grinning as he spoke.

“Truth is, I think the more you think you know, the less you understand. Allow me to elaborate. These are the Wastes. Plain and simple. Just plains of nothingness, to the untrained eye. But, from the sky, we get water; from the rocks, we get shelter; from the ground, we get food. For an ‘educated’ fella from over in the city, these plains are barren and lifeless. For some brainless idiot like myself, these are fields of riches and bounty. They don’t notice the details that, for me, make life worth living. It’s all how you look at it, I suppose. Everything’s a matter of perspective… Or so it’s said.

“I guess my point is, the stories I could tell you will be flawed, but they are what you make of them: truth or no truth. And don’t think that’s just for me. Everything’s a matter of perspective, my small friend, and some people here have quite a way of telling stories. But they’re all just stories, you know? The truth is something else entirely; and it’s in there… waiting for an unsuspecting passerby to snatch it up from out of the lining. That’s up to you to find, I suppose. And once you’ve found the ‘truth,’ you too can start telling your own stories, and I think I’ll let you find your own way and save you from one of my boring tales.”

He leaned back in his chair, as if trying to get a better view of the sprawling starlit night sky: a rich, black hue. He moved his hands and folded them behind his head, letting in a silent inhale in followed by a suspended, tame exhale. His mildly foolhardy demeanor snapped like twig and his grin straightened as he spoke.

“We’re outcasts; criminals; the forgotten souls. I’ve made an effort to drag every poor soul out of the heat and into the cool dwellings of my cave, but it seems more and more bodies end up on the grounds of the Wastes by the day, and it’s not like these bodies all end up in the same place, like some depot I can go to retrieve them. I have to search these grounds before those bandits find you first.”

A flash of fear lit up the once lifeless ghost. For a second, he was full of fear again.

“Truth be told, it seems like it took me a while to find you. You were… well, um… ‘well-baked’ if you will, despite your pale figure. But that’s merely a side-effect of the malnourishment you’ve received over some time. Which reminds me…”

The man sat up and got out of his chair. He reached into a small knapsack and retrieved a fruit.

“Eat this.”

The ghost hovered over to him and began eating right away. He didn’t understand hunger, but he knew it was a problem. Instinct, once again, took over.

“My fault for not giving you more earlier. My mind’s been a bit… preoccupied today.”

The man sat back down and resumed his relaxed posture.

“Where was I?”

The man paused and raised his hand to scratch the bottom of his chin. Then his face lit up and he continued.

“Ah, yes. For whatever reason, those damn bandits weren’t anywhere to be found. But, I have to say, judging by your figure, I think I have my own theory as to why you’re still alive. Still, I wonder why you remained there so long. On top o’that, most retain their basic cognitive functions, they just fail to recall specific memories. You are an enigma to me, that much is certain. I roam these Wastes searching for anyone who’s lost and wants to be found. Problem is… not everyone out here wants to be found.

“You. You took my hand, metaphorically speaking. You made your first decision out here in the land of unforgivable heat. Who knows what that could entail? But you need to make one more decision. You can choose to stay here with me or you can venture further through the heat and find civilization. But if you choose to do that, I cannot take you. And the only issue with staying here is… well… you can’t. I mean… I’ll teach you all I can, but then you must venture into this world on your own. Which will you choose?”

The pale aura returned to the ghost’s body. He felt at a loss for words, perhaps because he was just learning how to speak again.

“Tie. Time. I wanna… I need time. Time to thing…nk think.”

“Alright. I’ll give you until morning, my small, ghostly friend. But tomorrow my courier, Nikk Gunner, will arrive to either take you to the city or leave you here. Then, by nightfall in three sunrises, if you choose to stay, you will enter the Wastes at your own peril. The choice is yours, and it is a big one. Sleep on it and we’ll decide in the morning, eh?”

The man arose from his chair and threw a rusted tin bucket of water over the thin flames that had been burning at the front of the campsite.

“When you’re ready, you have a pallet over by the oil underneath the rough skin tarp. It’ll be your shelter from the weather. In the meantime, I’ll be in the cave if you need me. I can help you in whatever way you need, if you require it, that is. It’s important to have friends out here, outlander, and now you have one. Keep it up.”

The man walked into the cave, leaving the ghost alone, blending in with the darkness. He felt as if an ember had gone out in his breast. That darkness… He remembered… The feeling itself had come full circle. He tried to shake the hopelessness and fear, but he couldn’t.

Wastes…

What was this place?

Where was he going?

What did any of this mean?

All he could think about were the questions this man had tried so haphazardly to answer, but proved to no avail. His mind raced and his nerves intensified. He shook as he trembled over to his pallet on the cold, hard ground. At this moment, he almost envied the feeling he had in the day. He almost yearned for the blistering heat to alleviate this tight, sharp cold.

It got worse by the minute- no, by the second. His fears seemed to perspire from and perpetuate in the cold and the fear seemed to intensify the cold itself. It was a cruel cycle and only seemed to accelerate.

He collapsed onto his pallet, almost in tears. He didn’t understand why his throat began to choke him and his face felt heavy, almost like a mask plastered to his skull. He could not bear it any longer. He inhaled, ready to unleash an outpour that felt contained upon the surface—

“Outlander!”

A shock raced through his nervous system, from head to toe. Though it was nearly instantaneous, it felt like the shockwave lasted a millennium as he felt every inch of his body swallow up in fear. Was this kind man about to reveal his true intentions? Was he a psychotic killer of innocent spirits that washed up on the shores of this living hell? Was he the reaper of souls coming to rip from his flesh the essence of his very being?

“In my urgency to talk, I forgot to tell you my name. I am Lazarus Erei, but you can call my Laz.”

Lazarus? A name? This man had a name? For whatever reason, it never crossed his mind.

“Anyway, sorry to startle you. Good night.”

Lazarus. Lazarus Erei. “Laz.”

It was a name. It was his name. His friend. The young man let out a relieved exhale. This sudden revelation made him feel like all his worries were nothing more than obscene paranoia. All at once, the tight feeling of fear took a breath. He was being protected. He had safety. He was finally able to relax. The cold felt like nothing more than a breeze in the thin air. He was finally able to sleep.

The lights were gone. The heat had died. And the chill was barely a whisper. He closed his eyes and escaped from this world. He had completed his first day and he was alive. That’s all that mattered. He let out an exhale and smiled. The fears died. The whisper of nature’s chill began to erode into nothing at all. The sounds faded. The world he had just endured began to feel just like the dream he felt before entering it. His mind slowly surrendered. The world around him grew quieter and quieter. Then, suddenly, silence.