#also eclipse rays look more like petals

[floofballsammy]

I hate having brainrot for multiple fandoms.

Not only do I have 20+ unfinished doodles in the span of a week, I also need to relearn how to draw all these characters-

[thequeenofthewinter]

Endless Days, Infinite Nights

A little one-shot I made for my beautiful and talented friend @sneaksandsweets of her OC Dreki and Vilkas which I thought I would share with you all. I hope you're in the mood for a super sappy wedding. <3

Scattered clouds roll their way over the plains of Whiterun as they chase their way across what is left of the fading day. To any other, it would appear to be a normal summer evening—a warm breeze plays its way over the long grasses, and crickets are just beginning to tune their instruments to begin their nightly chorus. It is peaceful, and it is calm. The last rays of sun reach out to stain the sky with brilliants reds, pinks, and oranges. 

Vilkas could not have asked for more.

As he looks out into the small group of people before him, many faces jump out at him as they smile and nod to acknowledge his gaze. All of his brothers and sisters at Jorrvaskr and the Grey-Manes are present. Even Ulfric and Dahlia made their way from Windhelm just for the occasion as they would not dream of missing this for anything.

The minutes stretch on while Vilkas stands next to the priest of Mara—firm in his stance as he is in all things in life. Today is no different; however, there is a slight nervous tapping of his toes as he waits impatiently for what is to come.

Despite the large space of Jorrvaskr’s yard, it suddenly feels unbearably small to him. Each second he does not see Dreki is another which makes it harder for him to breathe. But when he finally does spot her some uncountable number of moments later, it steals what is left of the breath from his lungs.

Dreki appears, and her nervous legs carry her body slowly down the path made for her. It contrasts sharply with the quick, pattering beats of her heart. Everything is moving both too quickly and too slowly for her liking. Her legs feel almost leaden as she steadily picks up one after to make her way to the altar—to her prize.

Suddenly, she is forced to stop when a particularly strong wind blows around her, casting some of the petals of her flower crown about her in a colorful rain and ruffling the skirts of her dress. She chose her attire to be simple: a light, airy cotton shift with golden embroidery swirling through the seams. It all flows effortlessly around her, emphasizing her soft curves; however, it tangles easily around her legs.

Dreki’s eyes flick around her anxiously as she notices that all of the attention is now on her. Her breath starts coming in short gasps, and she begins to panic. 

However, it is not for long.

Vilkas makes his way to her, picking her up effortlessly and carrying her the rest of the way to their final destination. She blushes furiously the entire way, not just because of the way he makes holding her look so easy, but also because she can’t help but notice the way his crisp, white tunic parts into a shallow V neck.

“Eyes up here, sweetness.” He chides her lightly. “We will have all night for that later.” He teases her.

If possible, she turns even more red.

“Vilkas…”

All he does is wink at her, and put her down before the priest.

As the ceremony begins, neither of them really register the words being said to them. That isn’t what is important to either of them, and they are far too busy wrapped up in thoughts of each other.

“Now and forever” each of them repeats when it is their turn. Every word falling from their tongues with sincere feeling—honor and adoration their lifelong promise.

Finally, it is time. 

When the priest places their hands in the other’s to pronounce them to be wed, Vilkas steals a moment for himself, noting the exact way the light hits Dreki’s eyes. It is a picture he will never forget for the rest of his days—the welcoming glow of their future with endless golden days spent together at her side.

And when Dreki looks back, she is eclipsed by twinkling pools of silver—their infinite nights stretched out before her as they are immersed in a spectacular twilight sea.

Together, they are beginning and end: a completion of each other.

Together, they will spend the rest of their endless days and infinite nights until the end of time itself.

Together, there is nothing that either of them will ever want for; this is all they have ever wanted.

As the sun finally sinks under the horizon, Vilkas takes Dreki’s hands in his own, dipping her dramatically before the cheering crowd of their closest family members, and claims her lips for his own at last.

“I now proclaim this couple to be wed. May they live in light and love in Mara’s path until the end of their days.”

[floserd-theflowercows]

Background + Lore, and the One who Started it All

I've been putting this off for the surprise-factor, but I feel like it's better to share this now rather than never

How Floserds came into existance

It all started on one special day, nobody knew the exact date specifically, but there was supposed to be an eclipse during the middle of the day. All the humans were excited, with their fascination of the moon going over the sun, but sadly, it began to rain. The clouds covered the eclipse, and they were all sad.

However, somewhere else on the world, in a large sunflower field, the rain was watering all the sunflowers, including a large sunflower, with yellow and a hint of orange and red in its petals. As the rain fell, and the clouds shifted, a rare moment happened: A raindrop was hit with a ray of the eclipse light, making a Solar Drop, which landed on the large sunflower, and absorbed by its leaves.

Eventually, as time passed on days later, the already-large sunflower had begun to grow more, getting larger and larger, until one day... the ground shook. Nobody knew what was happening, but as the ground shook, it began to crack in that field. Something was emerging from the soil. As it struggled to crawl out, eventually it made it out, revealing a large, unknown creature.

It looked like that of a cow, but stood like a human, and had a large sunflower tail. Nobody knew what it was, most people didn't even know it existed yet. The creature stood there, confused, not knowing what or who it was, but knew it was alone. To solve that, it decided itd travel the world, and pollinate other flowers around the world, in hopes of making more like itself

It started off with the sunflowers in its field, and pollinated them using its tail, and shaking pollen off onto them. It waited and watched, before eventually, they each crawled out of the soil too, and more of these flower cows came to be. The large one, excited, got back up, but on all fours instead of its hind legs, and began to wander the world, spreading pollen as it passed through the whole world.

It passed through forests, fields, and plains, though it did try to avoid civilization, as most humans seemed to not like its presence. It passed through water, being large enough to not have to worry about sinking. It went everywhere around the world, even accidentally pollinating underwater plants, as its pollen washed through the waters. It even accidentally pollinated parasitic plants, but it didn't notice.

Once it was done, it went back to the place it was born, exhausted, and found a cave that it rested in ever since. Nobody knows if that giant flower cow is still alive, but the other flower cows always remember the deed of that cow, and how they wouldn't be alive without it, and celebrate it whenever they sense a Solar Eclipse

This cow has been referred to by many names, none of the other flower cows knowing its real name. Some call it Soliflos (sōl - sun & flōs - flower), others call it Eclipse, some just call it the One who Started it All, some call it Flare, some call it the Eclipse-flower or the Solarflower, but the name it goes by itself is...

Helian!!

Helian (short for 'Helianthus annuus') is very tall (another image w/ Chamomile beside them for comparison:)

They don't know too much about how Floserds have grown to be, as they rest in a cave hidden off from most entities (except for the sunflower Floserds, who have kept the secret of the cave's location), but one day they may reawaken, and go to explore the world.

Helian would use they/it pronouns... if it knew what pronouns were. Floserds never really had pronouns originally in their language, but once they also began using human languages, they incorporated it into theirs to portray identity a bit more

Not much is known about Helian, however, since nobody (again, except the sunflower Floserds) have seen them, or even know where they are.

But yeah, thanks to Helian, a lot of Floserds (or at least the land ones) (and also not the parasitic ones) celebrate 2 holidays: fēstus sōlis (the Festival of the Sun), and umbra lūnae (the Shadow of the Moon)

The Festival of the Sun is basically when they celebrate how they came into existance, and it's celebrated during a Solar Eclipse. They collect berries and fruits that they give as gifts for their family and bouquets (the new name for Floserd herds instead of herds), and they share stories with either other bouquets of Floserds, or other species.

The Shadow of the Moon, meanwhile, can sometimes give a different energy than the Festival of the Sun. The Shadow of the Moon is celebrated during a Lunar Eclipse, and the Floserds decorate themself with flowers that strongly represent them (ex. Chamomile would have a flower crown of chamomiles, and chamomile bracelets), as their tails stay open instead of closing at night like usual, and they play games in honor of how far their species has come. They race one another, moo together, and eat feasts of berries and grass and hay and whatever other foods are a part of their diet. The Shadow of the Moon is a festival meant to celebrate how far they've made it, and to honor those they lost.

Anyways, I feel like that's enough info for now!! :3

[lindwyrmrelinquished]

Pspspsps I made a Mer Daycare Attendants page on a paper that was supposed to be for math lmao

I just figured that drawing some cartoons boys was a better use of my time and hot damn was I right <<<<<3 They look so funky!!

[Image ID: Four uncolored drawings of Sun, Moon, and Eclipse from Five Nights at Freddy's: Security Breach, but as mermaids. Sun has five petal-shaped fins circling his head, and at the end of his fish tail, and a wide, smiling face. His design is relatively plain, except for a fancy sun design with wavy rays near the end of his tail. Moon has several small fins making up the bottom of what looks like a nightcap, made of two more, much larger fins, with three more tiny ones at the upper end. The nightcap and his tail both have stars scattered over them. The humanoid part of his body is half-black, half-white, with the black mostly contained to his left side. The upper half of his arms are white, and the lower half of his arms are black, except for his hands, which are also white. There are four large fins at the end of his tail. Both Sun and Moon have frills around their necks.

In the upper left-hand corner is a full-body drawing of Sun, reclining with his tail slightly curled upwards up his right. One hand is hovering over his torso, and the other is up in the air, showing his claws.

In the upper right-hand corner is a full-body of Moon, curled in on himself as if anxious or tired. He is looking at the viewer with half-lidded eyes. One hand is resting on his tail and the other is hovering in the air between his head and his tail.

In the bottom right-hand corner is a drawing of Eclipse, a small mer with swirly designs on their cheeks and seven flower-petal fins circling their head. Six smaller fins rest in-between the bigger ones. They are looking curiously at the viewer slightly hunched over and resting their hands on the mass of tentacles that make up their lower body. The left side of their body is black and so are their upper arms. The black of their arms ends with tendril designs reaching into the white of the lower half of their arms.

In the middle of the page is a drawing with all three of them, depicting Sun holding Eclipse up to Moon, who's back is partially to the viewer with his arms hanging down at his sides. Moon's face is just enough in view for the viewer to see the incredulous expression he is giving Sun, who is grinning with his mouth open and sparkling eyes. Sun excitedly shouts, "MOONY CAN WE KEEP IT!?" Moon, much calmer, replies, "... Sun, that thing will grow to be bigger than both of us combined." Eclipse looks at Moon with a blank expression. End ID.]

I'm not entirely sure what Sun and Moon are but they are simply funky little dudes. Eclipse, meanwhile, is a giant squid baby. Moon was not exaggerating when he said that it would grow to be bigger than both twins combined.

[beautifulblhell]

A Kaleidoscope Of Colours Ch 1 (Finder Fic)

Pairing: Asami Ryuichi x Takaba Akihito

Summary: Having hated alphas for most of his life, the last thing Akihito wanted was to fall in love with an alpha. Except fate decided to reunite him with Asami. High school x omegaverse AU fic WC: 6099

Read it on: AO3

Chapter 1: Cherry Blossom Pink

Alphas are superior.

While it was true that alphas were born with good-looks and were physically superior to betas and omegas, and even if most of the top spots for the national exams were occupied by alphas, the automatic pass to ascend to the elite world, lord around others and arrogantly discriminate the omegas just because they were an alpha pissed Akihito off royally. That’s what had been instilled into everyone’s mind since the moment they were born, and society just accepted that as the truth.

‘Superior’ my ass, Akihito thought angrily as he agilely scaled up the tall iron gate. With a kick, he jumped off from the top and landed on the ground with a light thud.

“Hey, what do you think you are doing here?!”

Sure, they didn’t have to deal with those inconvenient heat cycles and take time off work, but most of the time they didn’t even work much themselves, only sitting on top of their ‘thrones’ and working others like slaves in a company that their forefathers had left them.

“Hey! I’m talking to you!”

Bunch of good-for-nothing leeches.

“Listen here, you punk-“

A man -whom Akihito assumed to be a security guard from his outfit- ran across the school ground and accosted him in a menacing voice. He reached out a hand to grab Akihito by the shoulder but instead-

“Eh- Argh! It hurtsssss!!”

Accompanying the shrieks were dull crunching noises as Akihito bent the guard’s hand in a direction that no human hands were supposed to.

“Argh! Wait wait wait, please let go!”

Akihito slowly faced the guard. The guard stopped struggling the moment he saw the deep-seated rage behind Akihito’s eyes, his fear temporarily eclipsing his pain. Beads of cold sweat ran down his face and he tried to smile, his lips twitching. He gulped noisily, then stuttered, “U-uh sir? How may I help you?”

“Is this Yozen Academy?”

“Sure is, sir. Um, may I ask if you have any business here?” The guard laughed nervously, his eyes flickering desperately side to side, probably hoping for reinforcements, but it seemed that even Satan had turned a blind eye to his plight.

“Sure do.”

Following those words, in one swift movement, Akihito delivered a roundhouse kick straight at the man’s abdomen. The guard sailed through the air, followed by a dull thud as he landed heavily on the ground.

“...”

There was no movement.

Akihito walked over and stared in disbelief at the unconscious figure lying limply there. He nudged the man with his shoes, but the foam trickling from the guard’s mouth was his only response.

At least he was still alive. Probably.

A one hit K.O. huh. What kind of lame-ass security did they employ that faints from a single kick?

That… did not satiate his burning rage one bit.

He had been expecting to face at least quite a few veteran guards so he came with the intent to fistfight God if he had to, but this… this single minion took only a moment for Akihito to finish. In fact, seeing that he was able to deal with this in one blow did nothing but flame his irritation even more.

Akihito cracked his knuckles, scowling. Guess his target will receive his full wrath then.

“Well, pardon the intrusion.”  He stepped over the body as he said so. Narrowing his eyes, he scanned his surroundings.

Before him stood Yozen Academy, one of the most prestigious alpha-only high schools in the country. Only the most influential, wealthy, and powerful people around the world could send their alpha children to.

An imposing white building with an oppressive architectural style sprawled out in front of him, with wings adjoined on either side, giving the impression that Akihito was stepping into the mouth of a monster. It donned several stories high. Instead of making the building seem open, the giant glass windows seemed more like soulless eyes, gazing emptily at Akihito. Trees lined up the road leading towards the main entrance  with the track fields and sports courts could be seen off to the side.

Heck, whose decision was it to make this school so huge?! I’m gonna need Google Maps to navigate around this monstrosity. He ran a hand irritably through his bleached blond hair.

Finding his target in such a vast space was going to be difficult. Akihito tried not to let his annoyance stop him. A few students had exited the building, then, after seeing Akihito, they all doubled back in panic, slamming the door with a loud bang. As if a door could stop Akihito.

Such a nice welcome, and here I thought that they taught manners at this fancy school.

It didn’t help that Akihito wasn’t trying to blend in. While all the students were in pristine white uniforms, excellently tailored that screamed ‘I’m made of money!’, Akihito wore the more plain black gakuran with his sleeves rolled up. The white t-shirt he wore underneath was emblazoned with the kanji “fire’ along with a drawing of flames. Plus, he carried a wooden bat with suspicious dark red stains dried on to it on his shoulders.

So yeah, not very inconspicuous.

Akihito stared moodily at the building, contemplating whether to charge in or wait it out, since he was apt to get lost in that huge building if he went in. As he was thinking, an old bald guy with a shiny forehead that refracted the sunlight, blinding Akihito temporarily, stuck his head out from a window and then quickly retracted, like those whack-a-moles in arcades. Akihito knew that he would be calling the police.

Ahhh, damn, gotta act fast. It would be a pain in the ass if the police come. Not that he minded, since he could lead them on another motorcycle chase. But Akihito was losing his patience and his self restraint was getting tired at this point, ready to snap anytime. Well, gotta get him out of there first. And to do that? Akihito took a deep breath.

“COME THE HELL OUT OF THERE, YOU PIECE OF CRAP ALPHA!”

Hundreds of faces peered at him from the square glass windows. To be honest, Akihito didn’t specify which alpha he was looking for, but seeing so many alphas looking at him, Akihito couldn’t resist saluting his middle finger at them as a greeting. The horrified faces granted him a tiny bit of satisfaction.

Probably never had anyone act like this towards them, especially an omega, Akihito sniggered inwardly.

It was then a door from the left wing of the building opened, and a single person walked out, his back towards Akihito. He had a lean physique and wore the same white school uniform as the rest of the students here, however, he had a presence that was impossible to ignore. A striking presence that commanded everyone’s attention around him, but also emitted a quiet coldness that warned people off.

A tall muscular black haired alpha, had an imposing air. Kou had said angrily while Takato had his arms around a sobbing Yuriko. He probably said a name, but as he had just told Akihito what happened with Yuriko, it rocketed in one ear and out through the other.

Yep, found him. With his temper hanging on by a thread, he stalked towards the boy.

“Oi, I finally found you, you little-“

Hearing his voice, the young man turned around in surprise. The moment their gazes locked, Akihito jerked to an abrupt standstill. Whatever words that were in Akihito’s throat evaporated, along with any coherent thoughts he had.

That spring day during Akihito’s sixteenth year, his world exploded into a kaleidoscope of colours.

The light spring breeze sighed softly through the cherry blossom trees in the courtyard, creating a soft pink snowfall. Petals danced and swirled around them, seemingly full of life, as if gently beckoning them to be closer, creating a veil that separated them from the rest of the world, a space where it was only them two.

Through the branches, soft sunlight filtered through, basking the young man’s features in its warm rays, and Akihito’s eyes widened, his need to breathe forgotten.

The alpha’s beauty was ethereal. His soft black hair fluttered in the wind, framing his handsome features. His eyes were a striking deep golden colour, which widened in surprise when they saw Akihito.

“Aki...hito?”

The words were spoken so softly, and amidst the sound of the branches shuffling against each other, it was almost impossible to hear, but the gentle wafting air drifting amidst the blooming flowers carried the young man’s voice to Akihito, along with a delicate sweet fragrance, tickling Akihito’s nose.

Time seemed to have stopped and the whole world ceased to exist. Inside the whirlwind of blossoms, it was a space where nothing mattered, only them, reflecting so clearly in each other’s eyes.

“Pretty bold of you to bring your omega to school, Asami,” The atmosphere was instantly killed by an obnoxious voice that drew from behind him.

As if someone poured cold water over him, the adenoidal voice sent Akihito crashing back into his disordered senses. Reality was a bitch.

For a moment or two, he stood there in stunned silence. He was dimly aware of the voice of the newcomer, but his mind was not processing the meanings. He was overwhelmed by the unexpected welter of emotions swelling up inside of him. Emotions that he had never experienced before, emotions that he doesn’t have a name for, that sent his heart pounding, his blood pumping furiously in his veins, carrying a warm feeling, spreading through his entire body. As if someone had played a melody, and his heartstrings were vibrating along with every cadence.

The anger he was just feeling earlier was being painted over with confusion.

Heck, what is this? This- this feeling-

“Sakazaki.” The voice was cold and deep. The mere sound sent a jolt through Akihito like he touched a live wire. Slowly, he turned around. The black-haired alpha was now standing between him and the newcomer.

“Is that another Kuroyama High omega?” The obnoxious voice carried an unnecessary arrogant tone.

Hearing that, Akihito shakes himself out of his daze and mentally slapped himself to focus on the reason he came here in the first place. He pushed aside the pretty alpha in front of him and faced the irritating newcomer.

“Why do you mean, ‘another’?”

The newcomer was another alpha who exuded extreme arrogance as he stood with his hands in his pockets, unbothered by Akihito’s tone. His head was tilted back as he looked down on Akihito through his glasses. He sprouted the most awful looking scraggly beard Akihito had ever seen on a human. Half of his shirt button was open, revealing a rather hairy chest.

The goatee guy leered at Akihito, “Well, there was a little omega who wore the same cheap uniform as you who came onto me recently.”

It took Akihito a moment to realize in his still confused state that this was the person Kou was talking about.

The anger that had subsided started to brew up again. He hissed through his teeth, “She never came onto you.”

The goatee guy appraised Akihito with slimy dark, cold eyes that reminded Akihito of the dead fish at the outdoor fish markets. He then shrugged and leered, “Why does it matter? Omegas should just obey the will of the alphas, since the only useful thing they can do is to spread their legs for us. Isn’t this why you came over? Wanting to find an alpha to look after you?”

A waft of a heavy sickly sweet smell, like an overripe fruit that has been left for too long and turned rotten suddenly brooded over the air.

“Sakazaki.” An angry warning tone suddenly sliced through the air as the black haired alpha stepped forward. In an instant, an intimidating aura came crashing down and the air froze over. For a brief moment, the goatee guy seemed surprised by the young man’s anger, but in the haze of his anger, Akihito barely registered the smell and the exchange.

If there was a type of person that Akihito hated the most, it was alphas. Looking down and trampling the effort of others without working hard themselves, and acting as though they could do no wrong. As if it was all a privilege that came with the status of being born as an alpha.

Akihito gripped the bat so tightly in his hand that the wood creaked. The rage that he had suppressed earlier came roaring back to life in his ears. “Listen here, you piece of crap that is worse than the dog shit I nearly stepped onto this morning-“

The rest of his words were drowned out by the sound of several cars coming to a screeching halt in front of the gate and of vehicle doors slamming shut. The iron gate opened, welcoming in a swarm of men in black. They came charging towards them.

“That’s him, the delinquent with a bat !” A wheezing voice screamed above them. Akihito scowled as he saw the whack-a-mole guy pointing at him from the windows.

“Leave.” The raven haired alpha said over his shoulder. He was still standing protectively in front of Akihito. But Akihito doesn’t listen. The flames of his anger had burnt down the last shred of his self control. He ducked to the side and aimed a heavy kick between the legs of the goatee alpha.

The goatee guy had fast reflexes, Akihito had to give him that. He dodged, barely missing Akihito’s kick, but Akihito was quicker as he followed through with his second strike.

Before the goatee guy could see it coming, Akihito’s fist slammed into his abdomen with full force. And exactly half a second later, Akihito’s other first landed on the goatee guy’s cheekbones, sending his glasses flying. All he saw was red. Anger, that every alpha he had encountered had treated omegas like shit, and anger, at his own helplessness when he was weak and could do nothing but watch. He was just pulling his hand back to permanently rearrange the Goatee guy’s face when his arms were stopped.

Cool fingers grabbed his wrists tightly, and an angry voice hissed in his ear.

“You need to leave.”

The moment Akihito heard the voice, it pulled him out of the red mist that so often controlled him when he was angry. He blinked in surprise, then all of a sudden, the feeling of the ground beneath his feet vanished. His vision titled, and a cloudless expanse of clear blue filled his vision. At first, his eyes were taken away by the beauty of the petals dancing amidst the blue backdrop, but then the shouts of surprise brought him back to his senses.

By then, the black haired alpha had already kicked off the ground and jumped on the high walls surrounding the school effortlessly.

While carrying Akihito in his arms bridal style.

As soon as the young man made a soft landing on the other side of the wall, he dropped Akihito onto his feet.

“Leave,” he repeated, his tone final, leaving no room for argument. His eyes were hard. If it was anyone else hearing that tone, they would have no doubt scuttled away by now.

But the words simply rolled off Akihito with absolutely no effect on him.

Akihito gaped at him. The whole process has been so fast that his mind had barely kept up with what had happened, but now that his two feet were back on the ground, his initial surprise abetted and indignation and embarrassment replaced it. “You- What the hell do you think you were doing?!” To be carried like that, Akihito had no face to show to the rest of the gang.

The young alpha’s eyebrows pulled together seeing Akihito’s uncooperative attitude. He opened his mouth, but the commotion on the other side of the wall disrupted him.

“They went over the wall. Catch them!” Thundering footsteps could be heard coming towards them.

The young man clicked his tongue in annoyance and without answering Akihito, he grabbed his hand.

The moment their hands touched, a bolt of electricity ran through Akihito’s hand. Akihito gasped as both of their hands jerked from the contact. An expression of surprise mirrored on both of their faces, before the golden-eyed alpha set his jaws and wrapped his hands around Akihito’s once more. The place where they were touching seemed to be burning.

Then they sprinted into the bright spring morning. The young man was fast, with his damn long legs, but Akihito had no problem keeping up. Giving the severity of the situation, that he had invaded one of the most elite high school in Japan and attacked a son of a probably-very-important figure either in the government or the corporate world, he should probably be panicking at the amount of trouble he would be in, but for some reason, his heart felt light, and everything around him seemed to be more colourful and brighter than before.

They both finally stopped when they reached the middle of a bustling street. Strands of the young man’s carefully combed dark hair had fallen into his eyes. He roughly pushed them back before turning towards Akihito, his jaw tight, which only helped highlight his cheekbones and show off his jawline.

“Why do you never listen?”

“What is that supposed to mean? ”Akihito pulled his hand back and scowled, “I didn’t ask for your help. I could have beaten them on my own.”

The young man narrowed his golden eyes. “They are professionals.”

Akihito shrugged. He knew but that doesn’t mean he was going to admit he couldn’t defeat them. Well, not all of them, anyway.

“Why did you help me? You’re an alpha.”

The young man seemed visibly confused. “What’s that got to do with me helping you or not?”

“Alphas think they are superior right? Like that hairy gorilla guy with the ugly goatee earlier. You think the rest of us are below you.”

His golden eyes hardened a fraction when Akihito mentioned the arrogant guy.

“Don’t put me in the same league as Sakazaki. That doesn’t mean all alphas act like that.”

Akihito snorted. “Sure, you might pretend that you are nice at the beginning, but in the end, you’ll leave. Someone I know deserted me once he knew he was an alpha and I was an omega. I hope that asshole lives happily ever after.”

The alpha suddenly stiffened, a flash of pain entered his eyes before he shifted his gaze away.

Akihito felt that he said something that shouldn’t have been said, but the sun can start orbiting around the moon before he apologies to an alpha.

They looked in the opposite direction, neither one willing to break the awkward silence between them.

That was when Akihito caught sight of a small figure standing hesitantly amongst the throng of people. The little boy looked left and right, his big eyes welling up with tears as he looked helplessly around him.

Akihito walked up to the child.

“Hey kid, can’t find your parents?”

“My mother… I can’t find her.” The boy’s voice was trembling from holding back his tears.

“Mother, huh,” There was a twinge of sadness in Akihito’s voice, but before anyone could take note of it, he squatted down so he was eye-level with the small child, and smiled brightly, patting the boy on his head. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you to find her!”

At first, the boy looked relieved, but as soon as he saw the bat Akihito had in his hand, his lips quivered and broke out into tears.

“I want my mummy!”

“Hey- wait! Why are you crying?!” Akihito tried to soothe the child, but to no avail. He turned around and looked at the young man in a panic, “Hey you! Don’t just stand there, do something!”

The young man looked as if Akihito asked him to summon up a pink elephant and alien and teach them waltz.

An old lady ambled up to them and clicked her tongue, “Young people nowadays, you think it’s alright to skip school and hang around in town and cause a ruckus at this hour of the day?” She took one look at the crying child and raised her voice even higher, “And exhorting money from an elementary school kid! Shame on you! This is why society is going downhill nowadays! I’m going to call the police and they’ll sort you out!”

Akihito was just about to argue that it wasn’t his fault that society is the way it is now when the old lady’s hand shot out with surprisingly nimbleness and wrenched the bat out of Akihito’s grasp.

“Hey! Give that back!”

But the old lady turned up her voice to maximum volume, so it sounded as if she was speaking through a megaphone.

“Talking back to your elders now, are you?! And what are you doing walking around with a weapon like this, threatening upstanding citizens like myself in this area?”

By now, a small crowd of onlookers had gathered around them. Akihito knew it wasn’t good for them to be attracting attention now, but he wanted his bat back.

“Look, I’m not threatening anyone with it, I-“

“What’s going on there?” A voice shouted from afar, and Akihito saw a policeman patrolling the area running towards them.

As if reading his intentions of wanting to grab his bat back, a hand pulled him back and dragged him away.

‘Hey wait! Let me go! I need that bat!”

But the young man didn’t let go. After dragging a struggling Akihito along a few streets, he finally released Akihito.

Akihito turned to run back the moment he was free, but he had hardly taken a step when he froze.

…

Where was he?

Glancing left and right, he saw designer boutiques lining up the wide pavement, and foreign cars whizzing along the road.

There was no way he could find his way back to where they were.

Akihito clutched his head in his hands and let out a groan. He was going to be so much trouble for losing that bat. He wanted to put it back before anyone found out that he took it, but now…

Seeing that Akihito was no longer running away, the young man said, “We should go somewhere inside for a while. They might be searching in this area soon.” After saying so, he walked off, as if expecting Akihito to follow him.

Akihito contemplated not following the young man, but he wasn’t familiar with this part of Tokyo at all. After all, no one without at least 100,000 digits in their bank account would come to this area.

He sighed.

With no other choice, he walked behind the other boy.

Everywhere they went, passersby turned their heads and did a double take at the young man. Akihito scowled. Sure, even amongst alphas, the young man was pretty good looking, with his tie yanked down and collar loosened, but he has flaws too, like…

…

Akihito couldn’t come up with any imperfections. And that irritated him even more.

There’s no way someone has no flaws. Maybe his height? But he was pretty tall. Then his face? Nope, it seems as if God had forsaken the rest of humanity’s appearance after creating one masterpiece.

Because Akihito was so deep in his thoughts, he didn’t notice the boy in front of him had stopped in his tracks and walked straight into him.

“Oww,” Akihito complained, rubbing his nose. At least he smelled good-

Wait, what?

Shocked at his own thoughts, he realized a second too late that the other boy had already veered off course and into a building.

He looked up at the building. The bright lights displaying the word ‘cinema’ shone down on him.

Akihito quickly darted inside the building. The smell of popcorn greeted him. By the time he stepped inside the foyer, the black haired boy was already at the ticket counter. Turning to Akihito, he asked, “Are there any films you want to see?”

“Yeah sure, are they still screening Barbie or My Little Pony?”

The young man gave him a deadpan look, then turned back to the lady at the booth.

“Then two tickets for the next film that’s screening.”

The lady smiled at them both kindly, and handed them their tickets.

“Please enjoy.”

Akihito walked up to him when he saw he paid for both of them. “How much was it? I’ll pay for my own.” He moved to put his hand in his pocket, but-

Shitttttt

His hand came up empty.

He had left in such a hurry this morning that he had forgotten his wallet.

“I-uh…”

Akihito shifted his feet, eyes gravitating towards the ground, suddenly finding a spot on the carpet really fascinating.

“I kinda...uh…”

The young man simply handed Akihito his tickets, along with a wad of notes.

“The concession stand is over there. I will wait for you at the entrance of the screen.”

He spoke curtly, and before Akihito could protest, he had already walked off.

Akihito stared at the bills in his hands, eyes wide. Holy crap, he must be rich. The black haired guy still seemed a bit angry, but Akihito brushed it off his mind and headed towards the snack stand.

When Akihito came back, the raven haired boy raised his eyebrows. In fact, all the cinema goers did a double take when Akihito walked past them.

He was holding a jumbo pot of popcorn. Balanced on top was a super sized hot dog and a small tray of takoyaki. In his left hand he was holding a cup of soda, and dangling between his fingers was a bag of candy floss. His trousers pockets were also bulging.

He shrugged when he saw the other boy staring at him.

“I didn’t have breakfast.”

Miraculously, or perhaps, incredibly, Akihito was able to walk down their aisle without dropping a single popcorn. He stopped short when he arrived at their designated seats.

“...”

“What is it?”

“No way. No way in hell am I gonna sit in that.”

What Akihito was referring to was a special seat for couples. The red sofa-like seat was heart shaped and there was no armrest in between.

Just looking at it made Akihito shudder.

Why the hell would they give them that seat?!

He stormed out of the screen.

“I want a change of seats.”

The lady at the booth looked flustered. “Ah, uhm, my deepest apologies, but there are no more vacant seats.”

“Is that delinquent causing trouble?”

“Maybe he wants to watch it for free and is harassing the poor girl.”

I can hear you, Akihito turned and scowled at the other movie goers whispering behind his back.

A hand yanked his collar.

“Hey- what are you doing?! Let me go!”

So once again, Akihito was dragged away, back towards the screen and into the seat.

“Did no one tell you it’s rude to drag someone?” Akihito glowered at the other man.

“Then don’t make a big scene, unless you want to be kicked out.” He sat down, and faced the screen, putting an end to the conversation.

Armed with no more options, Akihito sulked in his seat.

But they were in such close proximity that everytime they moved, their knees would brush, so Akihito sat like a stone, only moving his hands from the food to his mouth.

The movie seemed to be a romance one, something about a pair of childhood friends finally reuniting, a jealous stalker that comes with the package because the male lead was too handsome, and an unnecessary side character that keeps trying to steal the limelight.

Akihito was bored. Corny romance movies like these made his lone brain cell want to self-destruct. Especially that scene when one of them got kidnapped and got left on a stranded island, and the other braved through blazing gunfire and somehow could miraculously operate a helicopter and save the other person.

Maybe it was because of the film, but a certain memory from his past surfaced up, a memory that he had hardly thought of anymore.

When he was young, he made friends with another boy slightly older than him. He thought they were best friends, but after they got their tests back on their secondary gender, and he told his friend that he was an omega, the other boy slowly then completely dropped contact.

Probably thinks he’s too great to play with an omega.

What was that boy’s name again? Asami Ryuichi right?

...

Suddenly, the popcorn in his mouth felt like sand. The bucket of popcorn tumbled from his hand, spilling loudly across the ground. Several heads turned towards them, but Akihito couldn’t care less right at this moment. He jerked his head towards the person sitting on his right so hard that he nearly got whiplashed.

Didn't the Goatee guy call him Asami? Akihito raked through his memory hard. But it was all a blur since that weird time-stop moment had happened.

“...What’s your name?”

The black haired boy’s mouth thinned, as if Akihito had asked him a question he didn’t want to answer. His eyes stayed glued to the screen.

The glare of the light from the screen should have turned his face into an unattractive landscape of washed out colours, but it only made him more beautiful.

Just when Akihito thought he didn’t hear him and was about to ask again,

“...Asami.”

His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, but Akihito’s heart took the expressway straight to his stomach. His jaw dropped to the floor.

So that’s why he looked uncomfortable when Akihito mentioned the person he knew from his childhood, they were the same person!

“Why didn’t you say that you were Asami earlier?!”

Unable to contain his shock, Akihito inadvertently raised his voice.

The other movie watchers turned to them in shock.

“Did he say Asami?”

“The Asami?”

“No way!”

The whispers spread like a ripple across a still lake. Asami stood up abruptly and exited the screen. He didn’t say another word until they were both outside the building. Akihito followed behind without a word, slightly regretting his outburst. Then, with a furrow in between his brows, Asami said with a voice that carried an exasperated resignation.

“Do you have to cause a commotion everytime you go somewhere?”

“Hey, that wasn’t on purpose!” Akihito said reflexively. Or rather, heard himself say. His mind was still reeling at the revelation.

But it wasn’t surprising that the other people were shocked. The Asami family was famous. It was an old family, with their influence extending to everywhere from politics to business. And they were one of the wealthiest families in Japan.

They walked aimlessly down the street in silence.

A thousand questions burned in Akihito’s throat, and a thousand questions extinguished in his mouth.

What should he say? How have you been? Or, why did you leave?

The betrayal after so many years still stung, but everytime he saw Asami, the questions died. There was something different, something untouchable about Asami now, that made him seem so different from the young boy that lived in Akihito’s memories.

A loud rumble echoed.

It seemed that Akihito had done too much thinking.

Asami turned back, his eyebrows raised.

“Are you still hungry?”

“Hey,” Akihito raised both of his hands, “I didn’t even get to finish eating the food I got before we left the cinema.”

Akihito's eyes trailed around, and landed on a golden arch of the letter ‘M’.

“There, let’s go eat there.”

He probably has never been into a fast food restaurant before. Akihito sniggered inwardly. Payback number 1.

Akihito grinned at Asami, “Though there’s no knife or forks there. Are you sure you are going to be alright?”

Asami shot him a withering look, then headed inside.

But to Akihito’s surprise, instead of looking uncomfortable, Asami walked up the counter and ordered without any hesitation.

The person at the counter placed a cup of sundae on their tray.

“Here, it’s a free special sundae for couples when you buy two or more deluxe meals because it’s White Day.”

...It’s White Day today?! Of all days to meet with Asami again. Akihito facepalmed inwardly. But Asami didn’t seem bothered. He took the tray, and sat them at a table near the corner. He pushed three burgers with fries towards Akihito, and only took one for himself.

His long elegant fingers unwrapped up his burger. He looked so refined, so out of place in a cheap burger chain, and if Akihito didn’t know Asami, he would have thought Asami was a model shooting a commercial.

At that moment Asami glanced up, his eyes met Akihito’s.

“Eat.”

Embarrassment coloured Akihito’s cheeks at having been caught staring. He quickly stuffed the burger in his mouth.

Still, after the three burgers, Akihito stared at the sundae. It looked delicious. Strawberry sauce dripped enticingly off the soft peaks of the ice cream.

Asami must have seen him staring at it with sparkling eyes because he said, “You can have it.”

“All of it?” Even when saying so, Akihito was pulling the cup towards himself.

The first mouthful was bliss, and a content smile naturally spread across Akihito’s face. But all too soon, the cup was empty. Akihito leaned back in his chair, his hunger finally abated. Now that they had both finished eating, the silence made Akihito shift uncomfortably in his seat. His fingers fiddled with the empty cup. He was just thinking about how to break the silence when Asami beat him to it.

“What were you doing there this morning?”

For a brief moment, Akihito’s mind pulled up empty. Then he stiffened as he remembered the reason and that he was with an alpha himself. A sour taste entered his mouth, and a scowl appeared on his face.

“That goatee gorilla guy harassed my friend's girlfriend. He forcefully used his pheromones on her and made her go into heat. Luckily Takato arrived in time, but who knows what would have happened if he didn’t.” The cup got crushed in his fist.

Asami was silent, then, “You should stay away from him.”

Akihito’s anger started to simmer up again. “Didn’t you hear what I just said he did? No way in hell am I gonna let him off the hook for what he did.”

“It’s not your problem, is it?”

“Takato’s like my brother, so of course it’s my problem! Plus, his attitude pisses me off, you heard what he said-“

“Don’t go near Sakazaki.” An edge had entered Asami’s voice.

Akihito sat back, folding his arms. He wasn’t about to back down. He glared at Asami. “Are you protecting him?”

Asami looked disgusted at the very idea.

“Then what’s your problem with me-“

“You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

“That doesn’t scare me-“

“Akihito.”

The air surrounding them suddenly became thin. Akihito’s mouth snapped shut.

“Do. Not. Go. Near. Him.”

Asami’s words were flat, cold. He spoke slowly, but there was no masking his anger. His golden eyes burned into Akihito’s, preventing Akihito from looking away, and for once, Akihito was at a loss for words. Asami held his gaze for a few more seconds, then he stood up, taking the tray to the nearby trash can.

The silence returned, and neither of them made any attempts to break it. Akihito’s mood was black and refused to look at Asami. Did Asami expect him to smile, nod his head and go, “Yeah, sure, I won’t.”?

Asami made no move to break it either. He simply walked out of the restaurant and along Main Street and flagged down a taxi. Seeing Asami talking to the driver and handing him a wad of cash, Akihito had just decided to turn around and blindly walk around until he was at a familiar place when Asami pushed him inside the taxi.

He leaned against the car door frame, his eyes capturing Akihito’s, and said, “Remember what I’ve said. Don’t go near the school or Sakazaki again.”

“Now wait a damn minute you-“

He closed the door to the taxi before Akihito could say any more.

Then, he spun on his heel and strode away briskly, disappearing into the crowd of people, and the taxi pulled away.

*****

The moment Asami closed the door to his room, he slumped onto the ground, all the energy leaving his body.

Why, why did he have to appear again now of all times?

[windup-dragoon]

“You’re Not Alone”

Word Count: 1,535  Kiri x Hien  Post ShB / Some Spoilers 

Previously, “Welcome Back” 

Next: Light Upon the Lost

Last: Stand by Me

Doma was beautiful when the blossoms were in full bloom. Bursts of delightful pink that scattered on the breeze, falling as if raindrops around her. Sunshine broke through the branches in dazzling curtains, much like rays of light piercing the surface of the ocean. Alive and warm, dancing and shifting with the current and the wind. 

At her feet, a blanket of fallen blossoms that dusted the stonework of the enclave. She knelt to pluck one, to feel the silk soft petals between her fingertips. If she had been given the means, surely she would have gathered them all in her arms and tossed them over head, to be caught on the wind and set free once more. 

“Kirishimi?” A voice beckoned. 

In response she rose with eyes alight. She knew the voice now. So well, like a tune one simply does not forget. With it stirred a beating in her chest and a tightness in her lungs, excitement. 

Hien was calling for her. 

Yet when mismatched eyes came to rest upon his image there was no smile painted across his lips, or a laugh that echoed. Instead his body pitched forward and brought him to his knees writhing in pain. 

All at once her world shifted. A candle snuffed out. Cerulean blue skies that stretched miles overhead in an instant became heavy with ebony ink. The sun was a fiery eclipse, an eye opening and glaring down upon her. The petals of lost blossoms nothing more than cottony white feathers. 

Ice filled her veins. Her skin felt alive, slithering like serpents and constricting her. The air grew heavy with soot and ash, a familiar scent that made her gag. Carried on the wind she could make out distant cries, women and children alike screaming out for mercy. 

It was Holminster Switch all over again. 

“Hie-!!” A failure of her voice produced bile. Splattered at her feet, like pearls liquefied, the familiar telltale sign of the light and its scourge rotting her from the inside. 

Another try, desperate to call his name. More putrid substance welled on her tongue and spilled over her lips. 

“Kirishimi, why?” Hien’s voice became a whisper against the din of rupturing fires and collapsing buildings. Kirishimi looked up through tear strained eyes, horrified to see the once prince of Doma now tainted by the light; a mess of contorted limbs and twitching wings. 

“All you know how to do is survive...” A whisper at her ear. The voice itself was unfamiliar but it made Kirishimi shiver. Death itself would have been a pleasure to hear instead. 

Fear permeated her body. As if the sickening rot from the light hadn’t been enough. Now her own muscles betrayed her; a mind begging her not to look at the owner of this hushed tone. So delicate it came but felt no less than ice. 

“Others die... but we survive.” 

- - - 

Thunder cracked in the distance. 

Kiri jolted at the sound, having felt as if shaken awake by the din. Panic had her heart pounding in her ears while she gasped for air, no longer choking on the stagnant light that filled her mouth like blood but moments ago. Despite the humidity in the air, thanks to the approaching thunderstorm and a window left open, she couldn’t control the violent shaking in her hands; the ice that skimmed her skin and chilled her to her core. She drew herself close, knees to her chest as a sob croaked in her throat. 

Another dream. A nightmare that haunted her. Tears spilled down the crest of her cheeks, dampening her blanket and getting caught in her lashes. 

She was many things; strong, determined, kind, and cheerful. But alone? When the darkness whispered corrosive taunts and belittled her beneath closed eyes? She was weak, broken, and above all else, scared. The thought of giving her life up for the people of the First hadn’t even been a question at the time, she would have gladly given it and more. Of course it terrified her, she was only mortal, after all. But with death no longer looming over head and a future restored... What then was it that scared her so? 

A knock rasped at the door and suddenly she was made aware of her surroundings. The bedding beneath and around her was unfamiliar but soft and plush, even as it was laid out on the floor. Faint light accompanied with the occasional flash of lightning came in through a window, illuminating just enough of the room around her to tell she was not in Eorzea. 

“Kirishimi, are you awake?” A whisper breathed through the door had the Dragoon feeling light headed. So... She really had run off to Doma? 

With a hand knotting through snowy locks and a sigh at her lips, she returned the whisper. “Yes. Come in.” 

Softly the door peeled back and light poured in, temporarily blinding her as it absorbed the long stretches of shadow and ate the gloom. A gentle, ever so tiny flickering flame of a lit candle, casting dancing shadows across Hien’s features. He closed the door quietly behind him, the paper doors here in Doma so light they hardly made a sound to begin with. 

Greeted with a light smile, twisted as it was by the candles light, Kirishimi swore the ice that pricked her skin had begun to melt. Still, she drew her blankets close and turned her gaze elsewhere. 

He was speechless while he observed the room. The blankets tossed about and twisted around her, the mess of her hair in knots from thrashing, and her shivering frame. The young lord sat himself down by the door where he stood, the candle carefully placed to the side. 

“You look awful.” Hien spoke with the lightest touch of a laugh in his voice; half teasing but honest. 

“How many times do I gotta suffer hearin’ that today?” She groaned, resting her forehead on the tops of her knees. 

“Today?” He repeated in surprise. “Kirishimi... I don’t believe you’ve had visitors today.” To this the woman tilted her head just enough to peer at him through knotted locks. “Well, never mind that for now. How are you fairing?” 

“Said so yerself, I look awful. Sums up how I feel...” Awful felt like a gross understatement. Hideous and vile? More accurate. She felt as though snakes wore her skin and she, nothing more than a grotesque puppet. Although the First had been restored and the Lightwardens vanquished... how much longer would she have to endure this maddening disease of the mind? That every slight creak of her bones or twist of her stomach had her weary the light had returned. The feeling she was still a threat to those around her. Toxic. 

“Kirishimi,” Hien moved to take her hand in his, stretching the small distance between them, but hesitated when she flinched. His voice faltered before he swallowed. “You needn’t explain what took place on your journey, if that is your desire, but please allow me to be of some assistance? I will lend you my ear and shoulder if that is your wish. You need not shy from me.” 

Even in the dim light Kiri saw the glimmer of sorrow in his steady gaze. Had he felt as helpless in this as she was? He endeavored to inspire her once before, at Ghimlyt Dark, with honey sweet words about a favorable future for everyone. But for this? The enormity of all she had gone through, what she and the other Warriors of Darkness, had survived; how did one even begin to provide succor? 

His smile wavered when her response was silence. A roll of distant thunder echoed between them. 

“I- ... Uh, I will let you sleep, then.” Hien’s tone had changed. It made her heart ache. The hand he had so nearly used to reach for her own now searched instead for the candle at his side. 

Then stopped. 

Her hand, calloused as it was, took his and squeezed. He was warm; a strong burning fire in the dead of winter. Kirishimi drew his hand toward herself and pressed her forehead to his knuckles. 

“I don’t wanna hurt anyone,” With her head lowered and hair obscuring her features from his view, Kiri allowed the wrenching feeling in her chest to take control. Her lips quivered on stammered words, tears causing the colors of the room to bleed together. She hiccuped with hushed crying. “But I don’t wanna be alone!” 

The hand she held, damp with tears, moved to cup her cheek. Such heat generated from a simple touch; it felt like fire against her ice kissed flesh. She pressed her cheek into his palm, too afraid to look at the man before her. Vulnerable and broken had never been her forte. It made her feel weak, ill suited to be a Warrior of Light but... It also made her feel human. 

“You are never alone, Kirishimi.” 

With another crash of thunder outside, Hien pulled the Dragoon close, snatching the blanket as an afterthought and drawing it around her still shaking shoulders. Carefully he reached over and snuffed out the candle between his index finger and thumb. 

[blogmollylane]

Extract from a much larger project

So this is part of something I hope to work into a much longer piece and I am interested to hear what people think. Please be nice, I think the internet has enough negativity already, lets not add to it.

The Tale of Kindred Sprits

Oblique osiria roses, in hues of silver-white and scarlet-red, encased in suspended bird cages above the reflecting pool. Sporadically roses had escaped their pendant confinements. These lucky ones had wound themselves serpentine around their former prisons, climbing the shackles in defiance. Surrounded by vaulted windows admitting in the last evanescent rays of the setting sun, there Tristian sat by the pool’s edge.  Basking in the private serenity of the rotunda’s current kenopsia as sparrows’ euphonious serenades kept him company. Such a rare indulgence to savour in.

               Exhaling, he let go another lungful of smoke, watching the grey wraiths waltz in obscure patterns before fading away. Only the rich oaky tang of its brief existence lingers in the floral air. Eying the fallen petals drifting on the still waters, he mused if like constellations, they too delivered prophecies. Their positions, giving inklings to the mysteries Providence like the lines on his palms. Perhaps if better skilled in the art of deviation, Fate’s past designs could have been descried ahead of tragedy striking.

               Fingers swept back strands of silver hair from his face; he took in the left eye. Once there was a perfect carbon copy of its right-side twin, another bright sapphire iris. Now a pitch-black pit encircled by raw, angry scars stared back.

Enough tears were shed in the bloody aftermath of the mutilation. Ravenous wrath lived within him, binding it’s time for vengeance. Tristian acknowledged its rising presence, but held it back fast, never losing grip.  Rage yield, remained patient and sharpened talons in preparation. The perpetrator may be roaming freely in the Diamond’s hall, their leverage sitting pretty for now. What seethed beneath Tristian’s skin, ardent in his veins, volatile in his soul was what drove him. Their eventual ruin would be worthwhile and wrath will have its feast.

Glass doors swung open. Startled birds flew from their perches and footfalls click-clacked on the ivory-ebony chequered floor. Lady Delacroix. Her trembling fists were clenched so horribly tight, her nails left behind miniature crescent scars and gained fresh scarlet specks underneath. Her long eyelashes brim tears yearning to break free, racing to the edge. Head hung low, flaxen curls ragged. Wisps of baby’s breaths woven into her loose braids drooping over.

Most people never took heed of these tiniest details. If they did, they left her in the hollow loneliness to put her self back together. Jagged puzzle pieces that didn’t fit, acting as daggers that pierced her unhealed heart, too alien to recognize shards of their former selves. Walls, meticulously built and exhaustedly rebuilt, in danger of collapsing again. Crumbling bricks already bearing the wear of prior takedowns. Sandcastles had better resistance. Moisture spring from her eyes, but crying was not a healthy release. Crying was a filthy habit and she didn’t want another relapse.

But Tristian caught sight of her a pigment of sorrow, a rosy glow exchange for red splotches.  He didn’t know why he did it at that particular moment. Out of sympathy was the original hypothesis. He calls her by name, but not her real name. The name that was her purported birthright, but wasn’t truly hers. Followed by a stupid question.

“Lady Delacroix. Lady Delacroix, are you alright?”

Shoulders sagged, she picks up the pace.

“Erica?”

She halts, surprised. Discreetly wipes away a lone tear that had eluded her defences before gyrating around. Crooked her lips into a small, frail smile accessorized with verdure orbs that have banished their original sparkle.

“Yes, your Highness?”

“Are you alright? You seem upset.”

The automatic lie of “Oh no, I’m fine” slipped out.

Tristian frowned, inhaling fresh nicotine. His right eye, a lone spotlight fixated on her. This acute opia coerced that mastered grin a little too wide, glued two female feet to the floor. Far worse than the blinding journalistic flashlights; they were searching for faults. Erica couldn’t fathom what Tristian was looking for.

He came closer. Too close, far too close. Close enough for her to smell dried ink, ember and mint off him. Fingernails dig deeper. “You sure?”

“I... just needed a breather that’s all. It’s so stifling here this evening.”

Please let me go.

“I imagine that one so used to the wide open spaces that your old home back in Pyrite had to offer, you are still getting use to the confines of the Diamond.”

Actually, I left one cage to enter into another.

“Indeed,” Erica swallowed, “At least, we are safe here up in the clouds. That was your father’s initial intentions when he first drew up plans for its construction after the deaths of his brothers and your grandfather.”

“My father is not a practical man, Erica. He chooses style above substance. The Diamond’s main purpose is to be a personification of his powers first and foremost, a permanent grand exhibition celebrating his glorious eminency second. He did not want the royal residence to share the same ground as the common folk. Safety was not on top of his priorities. Image was.”

“You called me Erica again.”

“I think we can lessen the formalities in private, don’t you?”

Erica found it strange No one really pays attention to what she had to say regardless of content. Her voice was radio silence, background noise, insignificant...

“I should go. The evening star will arrive soon. Apologies for disturbing you.”

“No need to act contrite Erica.” He leaned in, “But if something has-“

“It hasn’t!”

A hard sigh and a mumbled sorry for the snap interruption. Obscure the splinter of the warring tempest below. Guilt rotting inside, its oxidization pricking beneath her unblemished skin. One of the many same old unresolved feelings piling up for years now. She didn’t mean it.

“I’m fine, really, I am.”

“Do I scare you Erica?”

“No.” Lies persisted on tumbling out. He didn’t believe her, of course. Let’s tell a rueful half truth then. “A... little,” she barely whispered, rich teal heels becoming fascinating.

“And what is it that terrifies you?”

“I don’t know what’s in your mind. I get the impression that-“she falter, vacillation halted any finished sentence transpiring, afraid of probable costs, rummaging around for safe words. “That there’s something that aggravates you, pestering at you, gnawing at you. You haven’t found the resolution yet. You believe that you have taken precautions, making a friend of it. But it wants to break free and when it does...”

Sparrows suppress their breath; no sing-song alleviated this silence. Faintest of changes in Erica’s heartbeat, at a higher volume than typical. Tristian contemplated on her words. Billowing cigarette smoke clouded his face, never phasing, masking his cerebral interior. Eyebrows narrowed intently as he gazed back up to the pensile art structure with its florid coils, as if asking it for advice.

“May I ask how you came up with that observation?” he finally said.

“Depends on how you will take it... Tristian.”

“I’m tougher than I look, Erica. Comes with the media saturated territory. I’m interested to hear your findings on me.”

“Well, if you say so,” she paused slightly before resuming, “Whenever we’re in the same room, you seem irate to be there with no proven cause. I don’t know if it’s my doing or just merely my presence that unnerves you.”

Tristian’s feature’s softened. “Erica, I don’t hate you if that is what you are assuming.”

“I wasn’t!” she panicked that he could interpret her thoughts superior to her own translation to his, unpleasant heat rising in her cheeks.

Erica had always preferred the comfort of what the stars pinpointed to, not ellipsism. That’s what terrified her most about Tristian, and to a much larger extent panoptical strangers. Their inauspicious indefiniteness, difficult to decipher unlike the movements of clinquant nocturnal auroras.

This decoding into the conundrum that was Tristian was convoluted even more when a masculine amused chuckle caused her to return her focus on the suedette fabric of her shoes. Perplexment conflated with discomfiture on her face. She stole a peep, purloining a faint smile from the spare, a concise vision far removed from the usual sullen presence.  

“What is so funny?”

“Apologies Erica. I didn’t mean to be unkind. I am also sorry to have given you that impression. It was not intentional. Perhaps, we should have gotten better acquainted on our own terms before forming such opinions.”

“Then what do you think of me?”

“Of you?”

“I gave you my thoughts. Only fair if you give me yours.”

Tristian took another deep meditative drag. Erica was looking up at him, a bit braver now, waiting patiently for an answer. He studied her for a prolonged moment.

“You’re made of sunshine Erica. When people try to eclipse that radiance, you somehow find a way to let it shine through. An admirable trait to have.”

Quite the compliment to receive. Blinking eyes search for mistruths which turned out to be a fruitless endeavour. Mouth slightly tugs at the corners, almost curves upwards. Unsteady heat warms the back of her neck, escalating in her cheeks. Still found it hard to believe. Nonetheless, found her hollow self filled with warmth and flickers of light. She murmured thanks, for that was the polite thing to do, deciding it was best to leave it at that.

Thank you for reading. 

[austennerdita2533]

A/N: Here’s a Part 2 to my KC/Hades and Persephone drabble, “Fill Me with Your Kissing Death,” I wrote for AU week. It can be read as a standalone, but both parts/chapters are here under the title “Our Lips Are Raw with Petals and Pomegranate”:

(A03) (FFnet) 

I’d also like to send a special shout out to the lovely Helen, @klarolinessecondbreakfast, because her stunning KC edit (here) reduced me to a flailing fangirl within seconds *cries: it’s so beautiful* and provided me with the inspiration to f i n a l l y finish this damn thing. And thanks to my beloved Sadie Sadie, @kickassfu, for listening to me bitch, moan, and complain about this story (and all of my writing) without cease.You ladies are the best! 

Enjoy lovelies.

xx Ashlee Bree

Drain Me of This Blushing Neglect

Many eons ago, in a land rife with sharp, barbed edges which were thicker than mountain bone yet more slippery than a snake’s shedding skin, and throughout a kingdom forged out of tinted glass the color of dragon’s breath and oppressive temperature swings that clattered teeth or beaded flesh with sweat, a god-king paced the dim crooks and corridors of his home at all hours like a wraith. And like a wraith, he floated through his duties and demands. Lost to all dreams of delight.

It was during a time when loneliness still cracked hard along Klaus’s knuckles as well, charring blood between his bones until it drained into deeper pits of nothing because there was only empty air to hold, because there was only that whistling despondency around each muscle, around each tendon of his fists. It was in a moment, too, when midnight felt like a silk rope around his neck: exquisite in its strength and power to bind, but so tight he wanted to choke while his fingernails pried at the prickly coffin. Crying out for a rose-snowed droplet of life. Gasping for the swell of cerulean waves and dawn’s preening feathers.

As he skulked beneath the dense fog of another unbearable death-day one evening, however, a yellow daisy suddenly appeared like a vision to slip through the full but dark moon above his head. With naught but a single petal, it slithered open the center with a flawless vibrancy that made it impossible for him to blink. Eager, it seemed, to dig itself through the earth’s dirt and worms so it could wilt somewhere against the austere rock below, near his feet. Perhaps even die. For, there, in the Deadlands, the only water which existed came from tears which weren’t plucked—never plucked—but scratched from a cemetery of miserable, tormented, bloodshot eyes.

Klaus monitored the daisy’s progress with rapt attention. Curious, of course, but also flummoxed by the crumbling stones of the plum sky which fell to the ground like droplets of hail as the petal sliced its way inside. Humming vivid streaks of moisture atop blunt peaks and ashy ravines. And also illuminating the air with songbird waves that were slowly taking form. Down the center of the moon the flower cut with smooth purpose and precision, seeping into the Deadlands with a gush so it could unfurl all its spring curves before him like a million rays of honey slipping from a budded sheath.

It expanded toward him in silky green leaflets first, and in peachy feminine limbs second. Revealing to him, not a flower, but a garden of a woman not yet in full bloom. A sagacious, cheerful young woman, who, like him in a complementary way, was an outcast in a cosmos where multifaceted hopes or ambitions were stifled—blackened until they could no longer breathe. And yet…

The young maiden planted herself before him like a partially eclipsed tree: half shaded, half shining rays of gold.

“Sorry if the light stings a bit, but you’ll adjust to it in time. And to me,” she said, beaming. “My name’s Caroline, by the way.”

Like a perfectly off-kilter dichotomy, she then offered Klaus a sprite “hello” with no bow. Unafraid, it seemed, to match him eye-to-eye; nor to face him, toe-to-toe.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I thought it proper to introduce myself.” Caught off guard, all he could do was blink. “You know,” she added with a flippant hand gesture plus an anxious bounce of her toes, “since I’m to become queen and everything?”

“Truth be told, love,” he sighed and scratched the back of his neck, “I don’t recall placing an order to the Sky for a midnight bride, so I’m at a loss here. What are you saying? And how did you manage to squeak through the gates of my home without prior—ah, what’s the word?”

“Death?”

“I was going to say invitation,” he said with a twitch of his mouth, “but frankly…yes.”

“Oh, that.” Caroline rolled her eyes then snorted like the answer was obvious. “I came of my own volition, silly! I found and ate your lovely forbidden fruit.”

“You…you what!?”

“No need to pretend to be shocked or anything. That pomegranate was a devil to procure, sure, but not impossible by any means. (Personally, I think on some subconscious level, you hoped someone would find it and that’s why you didn’t obscure it from view completely.)”

“Besides,” she continued lightheartedly, “I was determined. I needed a new home where I could cultivate my extremes, and you…” she bit her lip, “well, you needed me.”

Klaus blanched for a second time, recovering only long enough to arch a brow at her.

“Don’t look at me like that. You do.” Caroline fixed him with a penetrating glance and crossed her arms. “You need me—I can feel it.”

Chuckling, Klaus mused over this last comment before billowing around her with an acute gaze so he could assess her, head-to-foot. He took in her green-thorned thumbs, her soil-hemmed gown, her hair woven through with dandelion weeds, and couldn’t help but think her an anomaly. A beautifully assertive and provoking anomaly, mind you, but an anomaly all the same.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” he said in reply, “but I assure you I require nothing and no one. I never have and I never will. Moreover, the absolute last thing I desire is a spring queen.” “In fact,” he added with an air of protracted arrogance and a voice which boomed with commanding certainty, “were I so inclined to choose a bride for myself at all—which I neither am nor plan to be (I prefer to rule alone, unchallenged, you see)—what makes you think I’d dare to select one as fresh or as perky as you are, hmm?”

“Wow. Are you so greedy and bitter that you refuse to share the falling granules of Time with me? Seriously!?”

“And what if I am?”

Caroline gaped.

“You know,” she narrowed her eyes; placed her hands on her hips, “I rather expected you to be glad of some eternal company down here after all your time alone…but nope!”

“Instead, you’re nothing but a stubborn and pretentious jerk who’d rather sift along in solitary sameness, absolutely miserable, than usher in an opportunity for change and cohesion! You’re…you’re a coward! Terrified of the mere possibility of intimacy, you are,” she scoffed. “You want it more than anything, but you’re too damn afraid to let yourself have it even though I’m basically gifting it to you for free! And let me tell you, pal,” Caroline added with an arm-crossed humph and a pout, “being alone by choice is infinitely more tragic than being alone by command.”

“Pretentious jerk, eh?” Something twinged hard against his ribcage. “Coward?” It was his heart. It was his heart twingeing; it was his heart heavying in his chest.

“That’s not so awful,” Klaus said with forced apathy as he let the stinging truth of her words sink in. “I’ve been called much worse than that.”

“What?” Caroline’s brow furrowed and she softened. “By who?” she asked.

“My father…earthlings…tormented souls…” He offered her a tight, painful smile. “Anyone and everyone, I suppose.”

“Really?”

Klaus shrugged, glancing away to kick at a rock.

“I’m sorry that’s…that’s not okay. I shouldn’t have—you’re not that bad, okay? You’re just a little…rough around the edges is all.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Don’t let it go to your head or anything, and definitely do not make a habit of infuriating me, because I will throttle you,” she said, daring him to try with a look, “but I kind of like that you’re enigmatic. You’re vexing in a good way, you know? You keep a girl on her toes.”

Caroline drifted closer then, and it thrummed something deep inside of him because he could smell her authenticity. He could feel how much she meant what she said.

Soft and delicate, this spring darling was spun from thread that burned gold with candor, consideration and care; so instead of flaming into annihilation when another’s anger or pain snipped at one of her split ends, she curled herself around the wound like a compress and shined hope against it until all felt possible. Until all was healed again. Not healed in the way it once was, mind you, but doctored in a way which stitched all the residual agony together, making one feel better about the jaggedness it left behind in the end. More calm and controlled about it, so to speak.

She was nourishing in presence as well. She cultivated growth in a way that required the shoveling up of his old roots to study tangles and bends because she believed it was the only way to see where the neglect first started, because it was the only way for her to calculate when the rot would win out if there were no intervention.

(Not that Caroline wouldn’t work like hell before disease encroached that far, of course. Because she would. She did.)

Hair trickled over her shoulders like blades of grass bending in the breeze, too. It framed her in shades of mercy so blonde, and so glossy, she reeked of pure sincerity and compassion, infecting everyone she met along the way. And while the trunk of her was deep and grooved with shadows—not to mention full of thick sap Klaus smelled but couldn’t see without sawing further beneath her rings, the leaves of her were airy and graceful and constantly swaying in a fashion which he considered to be most distracting. Yet…

Also (much to his chagrin), grossly enchanting.

This young woman, who had appeared in his kingdom without beckoning, was beguiling in an unsettling way. She unnerved him with tender words and mannerisms until the distrustful paranoia in his mind began to thaw…until the cold armor of his chest started to fall with a settled plonk near his ankles.

Something about Caroline primed his ears to listen and consider before he spoke. Where, with anyone else, his mouth wouldn’t hesitant to strike out or blast.

So, why the discrepancy? What was so halting about her, how was she so melting?

She was everything Klaus shunned, after all. She was everything Klaus pertained to loath here in this jarring domain…amid these burdensome, endlessly lamenting, clutching souls.

A woman who, with a chirping voice much too high and sweet when she spoke her three-syllable name: Caroline, Caroline; plus a smile which held the promise of sharp green, yellow, blue and pink demands, and a chin stained with the red-orange juice of a pomegranate, had asked upon her arrival, if he’d clip open the iron cage around his heart for her. Wondering, sanguinely, if he’d make room for a white-blossomed girl with nothing to offer him but seeds.

But would he?

Could he?

Klaus already knew no one wanted to amble through the dank and troubled air of his thoughts, of his kingdom. Just like he understood no creature in existence thirsted for his smoldering artistry, either.

It seemed people feared the scraping of his charcoal fingertips through their heads because he tended to linger over their memories, dreams, and friendships until they shivered or sweat. The cretins never once appreciating the skill it took to sketch out every folded swoop of longing he found wound around their bones like shoelaces. Which was laughable, frankly. Truly laughable. After all, what was so hard to fathom about a king, sentenced to the dark, who knew how to paint others’ misery?

All beings shrank away from his hunger, though. They always had. They found fault with his voracious creativity and called him the Sculptor of Shadows behind his back while they tittered.

(And they were always tittering.)

Something unsettled earthen kind about the way his glare ripped them apart to draw what once was in the realm above, to paint that which was no longer their’s to hold or hide. With his eyes brushing against all the weight their hearts had to bear in life, he colored all conflict out of them and stroked it into the air for review.

Each piece was unique in its daunting, but exquisite, truth, too. No two stories, no two people, were the same.

Klaus had an innate talent for depicting with whom another’s life was shared, for how long it was felt, why it was relished, resented, or missed; and when it all came to an end—but most people hated it. Hated him for his creations. Every single one of them were unable to understand precisely why their old lives must be preserved on ghost canvasses that could echo, but could never be touched again. They couldn’t reconcile how much agony it cost him to portray things he longed to experience himself, but most likely never would.

Klaus knew, too, that no soul, dead or alive, cared for knowledge or insight into his bruising history. People preferred ignorance. People preferred not to hear.

It mattered not that his step-father, Mikael the Mighty, kicked him from the cloud-castles of his birth and into the pits of hell because he thought him a plague on the Original family—a repulsive half-blooded beast, you are; and no son of mine, he’d said before punting Klaus into the Deadlands to rot; to be forgotten; to roast in the flames like garbage—only that people distrusted the moonstruck yellow of his seer eyes more. They were eyes which stalked through so much of others’ loveliness and adventures, but reflected no such contentedness of his own in their depths.

Unfortunately, suspicion and aversion were the emotions which won out first and foremost among the once-living. It was easier for earthlings to fear him. Loath him. Misunderstand him. It was easier for them to condemn his pledge to preserve everlasting memories in death than to understand that he’d never waltz in the arms of the changing seasons himself unless he did so vicariously:  through them.

Perhaps it was too difficult for anyone to believe Klaus might know something of dejection, too? Or grief. Or wonder. Or longing for something alive. Perhaps it was impossible for anyone to fathom that the Kindred of the Damned might know something of suffering, too?

“You can’t fool me, you know,” Caroline cut in like a chirping dove.

“No?”

“No.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I…” Eyelashes flicking to his face, gaze unwavering, she shuffled forward with tulips trailing in her wake to place a tentative but steady hand on his chest. “Because I hear the muffled howl of your heart full of holes—how all of that emptiness blows straight through you. It calls out like the notes of a flute every time the wind rustles in the hopes that someone out there will hear it and rush into your arms. That’s why I came. I heard it, I felt your aching melody in my veins,” she said, her voice as soft as a feather. “I still do.”

Reaching for his hand, she beamed up at him with the rose-gold softness of a million suns as she intertwined their fingers in a tender, comforting way he’d never been shown before. The gesture caused Klaus’s throat to scratch uncomfortably. His lungs tingled with the warmth of a coming sunrise, making it almost difficult to breathe.

“That doesn’t mean you can dethrone me, though, sweetheart,” he replied in a low drawl.

“It doesn’t, you’re right. But if you let me,” Caroline said with a tilt of her head and a spreading smile, “I could occupy one next to you so you always have someone by your side?”

Those words, as legend later would claim, changed everything.

For, although she left behind a small lesion on the moon’s sooty, weathered face where her perfectly-petalled tip punctured it with grace and light, she showed Klaus the finesse of bending instead of breaking. She replenished his rotted insides with laughter, with hopes of forever which tangled them together like two onyx-shamrock stems dancing in the wind. She taught him how, sometimes, a heart given freely beats louder and longer, feels fatter and fuller, and gushes softer and surer than a heart that’s taken forcibly.

Before long, Klaus realized her nectar burned too bright for him to resist the urge to close his eyes and revel in her liquid sunshine taste…so he breathed Caroline in until he was blinded. And here’s a little secret:

He never regretted it once, either.

[fandomverseofanthony]

The Vampyre Of Time And Memory

Hey guys, it’s me. I. bet. you. thought. that. I. waaaaaaaas. DEAD!

Whaaaaaaat? TWO references to Queen’s of the Stone Age? (Hint: Druncle’s lyrics are not of my creation, but a song of QotSA)

Jumping back into the massive fandomverse of Fallout, I wrote a story featuring @ohmdo‘s Druncle and @vectober‘s V! (Also mention of @spacialkiwi‘s Trish and @commonwealth-hugs‘s Abby!) Enjoy!

              The gentle feeling of warmth. A familiar caress of the cheek. Hazy memories of a better time, long since passed...

Waking from a deep slumber, Anthony was disappointed to find that he was all alone, laying within a heap of scrap metal. A single ray of light pierced through the smog, beaming down on him. Raising a hand in front of his face, he tried his best to keep himself from being blinded.

              Anthony’s mind felt scrambled, unsure of how he got into his current position. He could only assume that the feeling was similar to a hangover. Letting out a long groan as he shifted uncomfortably in place, he combed through his memories, looking for anything that might provide some insight. His concentration, however, was broken by the arrival of a stranger, their head eclipsing the sun. Straining to focus, his vision corrected itself just in time to see that the person standing over him was pointing the barrel of their pistol directly at him.

              “Funny… I don’t remember scheduling a wake-up call.” Anthony quipped, subtly scanning the area for something to defend himself with, just in case.

              It wasn’t his first time being held at gunpoint, nor would it likely be the last. Anthony’s bad luck usually put him into unfortunate situations such as this, rarely able to talk his way out of them, but it never stopped him from trying. Experience taught him that not everyone in the wasteland was a crazed psychopath.

              The figure stood there, stoic, dressed from head to toe in black, including the mask that was keeping their identity a mystery. Their attire reminded him of the Crimson Dragoons, from the Anchorage Reclamation simulation, but far less gaudy. They were fairly tall, with the tactical clothing clinging to their toned, muscular build. He also noticed that his “Peacemaker” gauss rifle was slung over their shoulder. Whoever they were, it was clear that they were either the remnant of a well-trained group of operatives, or really good at looking the part.

               “Who are you? How do you get here?” the stranger questioned. Their voice was deep, yet smooth, not at all what Anthony was expecting.

               “Where exactly is ‘here’?” Anthony noted, single brow raised, hoping that the person would be friendly enough to provide an answer.

                Despite the stranger’s mask obscuring their expression, Anthony was certain that they were frowning beneath it. Pulling the hammer of the pistol back, they held it closer to Anthony, finger hovering over the trigger. “I’m not fond of repeating myself. Answer the question, or I’ll have to waste a perfectly good bullet. You’ll be stuck bleeding out slowly and painfully…” they insisted, a tinge of annoyance in their voice.

                Keeping his composure, Anthony complied with the individual’s request. “My name is Anthony, and I honestly have no idea how I got here.”

                The stranger hesitated, leaving Anthony feeling slightly uneasy. The silence was almost unbearable, waiting to see whether they would believe him, or if he was soon to be left in an unmarked grave. The person cautiously holstered their pistol, while Anthony let out a heavy sigh of relief in response. Pulling him out of the heap, he took a moment to observe his surroundings. Below the hill was a makeshift gathering of houses, barricades, and crude defenses. It was the lighthouse that stood behind him that gave the location. Kingsport.

                Anthony remembered visiting Kingsport in the past, but it was nothing like its current state. He wondered exactly how long he had been out for, and why he still couldn’t remember much before waking up in that heap. His last memory was in Goodneighbor, assisting Trish with some routine repairs. Anything after that was fractured, at best.

                Taking a moment to brush himself off, his attention returned to the stranger. Reaching out, he attempted to shake their hand, having a few questions of his own. “Now that we’re all nice and civil, how long has Kingsport been like this? Last time I was here, there was nothing but abandoned buildings, left over from before the war. Now this place seems to be flourishing, I can only assume thanks to you…” he paused, trying to get a name out of them.

                The person firmly shook Anthony’s hand. “Druncle.”

                “…Druncle?” Anthony’s brow raised once again, as a slight smirk formed, wondering if it was a nickname of some kind.

                They nodded. “M-hm.” The two laughed.

                Druncle held out Anthony’s rifle, “I believe this belongs to you.”

                As the weapon exchanged hands, Anthony paused. Giving a warm smile, it was as if he was reunited with an old friend. “Yeah, this has gotten me out of a lot of trouble. Saved a lot of lives too.”

                Druncle placed a hand on Anthony’s shoulder. “Let me give you the tour.”

                Anthony remained in Kingsport, helping wherever his talents could best be put to use. Druncle and Anthony didn’t speak much with one another at first, but something about Druncle made Anthony feel that they were kindred spirits. Every now and then they would share a drink, learning a little more about one another, sharing exploits of action, adventure, horror, drama, and the truly bizarre. Druncle typically favored a small glass of Scotch, while Anthony stuck with his usual bottle of Nuka Cola.

               Despite the sense of accomplishment Anthony felt from helping out, and the joy from making new friends, something didn’t feel right. He felt hollow, incomplete, as if a major part of him was missing, yet he had no clue what was causing it. Night after night, he found it harder to sleep. It was slowly taking its toll.

               One particular night, Anthony wandered towards the lighthouse, drawn by a haunting melody drifting through the night, telling a story of love and loss. Rounding the building, Anthony was surprised to see Druncle sitting at the top of the lighthouse, on the ledge, solemnly strumming a worn wooden guitar, while overlooking the sea.

               “Where O where have you been my love? Where O where can you be? It’s been so long, since the moon has gone. O what a wreck you’ve made me. Are you there over the ocean? Are you there, up in the sky? Until the return of my love, this lullaby…” Druncle gently placed the guitar to his side, sensing Anthony’s presence.

               Sitting down next to Druncle, Anthony queried, “Can’t sleep either, huh?”

               It wasn’t the real question that he wanted to ask. His curiosity clawing at the back of his mind, insisting that he know more about the song, but Anthony knew better than to pry into someone else’s business.

                Druncle lowered his head, finding it difficult to hide his heavy heart.

                Anthony shifted his focus away from Druncle, choosing to peer beyond the horizon as he continued. “Don’t worry, I get it. You don’t have to answer. We’ve both seen a lot, been through a lot, and it’s a hefty burden to bear…” Leaning back, he looked up at what used to be the sky, now nothing more than lingering fallout. “…sometimes I just ask myself why I always seem to survive, while those around me tend to die. Is it because my continued existence is some sort of punishment? Am I paying for something I’ve done or should have done?”

                Anthony didn’t expect a response from Druncle. Who truly knew the answer to his question? Even just being able to get such feelings off of his chest, sharing his thoughts with someone who knows what it feels like, brought him some semblance of peace.

                Druncle placed a comforting hand on Anthony’s shoulder. Rising to their feet, guitar in hand, they offered, “You ever think that... you’re here because there’s some great purpose out there for you? Waiting and all that?” They couldn’t help but let out a drained chuckle, as Anthony waved them off. “Yeah, me neither.”

                Patting Anthony’s shoulder, Druncle slowly stepped away, turning back just long enough to finish, “You can’t save everyone… guilt doesn’t change that fact. You’ll get lost in the dark feeling it. Trust me…”

                As Druncle disappeared into the lighthouse, Anthony felt a chill run down his spine, putting him on edge. Jumping up, he nervously looked all around him, unable to shake the feeling that he was being watched. Quickly making his way down the lighthouse stairs, he almost slammed into a well-dressed women, on his way out of the door.

                “Ah, so this is where you’ve been hiding…” the woman scoffed.

The woman’s hair was as sleek and black as a raven, peaking out of what looked like a summer hat, both it and her dress matching in shade, with only a hint of purple throughout. Her skin was a pale bronze, with dark eyes that felt as if they were piercing his very soul.

                Before Anthony could even open his mouth to speak, she interjected, “I’ve no time for games, and any questions you may have for me will all be answered with this…” she held out an ornate rose, made out of various kinds of metal.

                Anthony was hesitant at first, this encounter definitely falling under the ‘truly bizarre’ category, but something about the woman seemed oddly familiar. Against his better judgement, he felt as if he could trust her. The moment his fingers made contact with the rose, it felt as if the last puzzle piece finally clicked into place.

               The flood of memories, of events that once were, but now were nothing more than a bad dream, rushed through his mind. Anthony nearly lost his balance, as the onslaught sent him reeling backwards. Horrific visions of Goodneighbor in ruins, those closest to him either dead or experiencing great pain and suffering. Anthony’s eyes welled up with tears as he was forced to relive every agonizing moment. Among all of the darkness, one beacon of light managed to shine through. Alaelys.

              Anthony carefully peeled back the petals of the rose, finding a wedding ring inside. The ring he made for the love of his life, the one person he was willing to go to any lengths to be with and keep safe. He made the ring, and the rose that it was encased in, in hopes of asking for her hand in marriage. It was on that day that he planned on proposing to Alaelys. It was that day that Elder Maxson loyalists ambushed Goodneighbor, laying waste to the town, getting revenge for the death of their leader.

               In the aftermath, a sharp dressed man appeared before Anthony, black vest, slacks, and dress shoes to match his slicked-back hair, a stark contrast to his warm skin and crimson red dress shirt. A devilish individual that Anthony had run into time and time again, offering to fix everything. All it would cost him was that which he holds most dear, Alaelys.

               The gentleman referred to himself as Guile, insisting that all he would do was rewrite reality, ensuring that Anthony and Alaelys would never have met, while also ensuring that several painful events and deaths never come to pass. To make things easier, he would even make sure that Anthony would not remember the deal, and what was lost.

               Anthony asked for a moment to decide. For once Guile was willing to wait, sure that this time he would get his way. Vanishing into thin air, Guile’s laughter still echoed in his absence. Anthony called out a letter, no, a name. V.

               A woman stepped out from the shadows of Goodneighbor, the same woman that handed Anthony the rose. Anthony knew her, through his friend Abby. He knew that she hated Guile, or more accurately what Guile is, what she is. They were beings not of this world, of great and terrible power, and that’s exactly what he needed at that time.

              Anthony pleaded for V to help him make things right, outsmarting Guile in the process. So many lives would be saved, and V gets to revel in the fact that Guile was tricked by a mere mortal. The very thought of it caused her lips to curl into an inhuman smile. She agreed to help Anthony out, taking the flower as part of the plan, but only because he was a close friend of Abby’s and for the humiliation that would be inflicted upon her nemesis.

              Snapping back to the present, Anthony wiped the tears from his eyes. V was taken by surprise by Anthony’s sudden embrace, squeezing her tight. “Th-Thank you…” he stammered, almost at a loss for words.

              V wasn’t sure how to respond. The only other person to ever have hugged her, and lived, was Abby, and she knew Abby would not be pleased if she killed Anthony. Instead, she stroked his hair, as if he was a pet, before lightly forcing them apart. V nodded, blinking out of existence as she stepped back. Looking back down at the rose, Anthony knew there was only one more thing left to do…

              The following morning, Druncle was going through the usual routine of patrolling Kingsport, but felt as if something was missing. They were surprised to find that Anthony was nowhere to be found. Arriving at the lighthouse, there was a bottle of Scotch with a note pinned to it.

Hey Druncle, I’m sorry that I left without saying goodbye, but every second counts. I guess you were right about having a greater purpose. Maybe we all have one, and it just takes being at the right place at the right time to realize that. I appreciate your hospitality, your wisdom, and most of all, your friendship. Oh, and not shooting me in the face, the first time we met… Yeah… This won’t be the last time we see each other, as once I reach this journey’s end, I’ll have one hell of a story to share with you, over a drink. So, as a token of my gratitude, I left this bottle of Scotch, that I purchased off of a caravan not too far from town. It cost a pretty cap, but hey, you’re worth it. Enjoy, my friend.

                                                        Until we meet again,                                                                      Anthony

[foursprout-blog]

37 Quotes On Fighting Ego, Building Character And Developing Strength & Humility

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/happiness/37-quotes-on-fighting-ego-building-character-and-developing-strength-humility/

37 Quotes On Fighting Ego, Building Character And Developing Strength & Humility

God & Man

Ego is one of those things that’s very hard to define, but easy to spot when you see it. Even as someone who spent years researching and then writing a book about the dangers of ego, I have trouble nailing it down exactly. Here’s a shot: Ego is that outsized sense of self-importance, that malignant self-absorption, a belief that one is somehow inherently better and entitled to more than everyone else. It’s the voice whispering in our ear, alternatively, that we’re invincible and that we’re a piece of shit who should make everyone pay. Ego is that toxic force that makes teamwork, empathy, vulnerability and artistry impossible.

We know this…and yet all of us are guilty of it. Perhaps that’s because the real insidious part of ego is that while we can immediately recognize it in other people, when it comes to our own behavior and our own thoughts, ego whispers once again that we’re different.

Below are some of my favorite quotes about ego—quotes I’ve written down in moments of battling my own ego—as well the awesome books from which they came. I hope you can find a use for them in your own writing, on social media, or better yet, use them in your real life.

Enjoy!

***

“Ego is an evil thing. Confidence is important but ego is something false. Humility is the way to build confidence, and ego is hugely dangerous in this sport, because if you’re running on ego you aren’t running on good clean emotions or cause and effect. You bypass it to support a false idea. It’s all garbage, the ego is garbage.” Frank Shamrock The Fighter’s Mind

“Your ego can become an obstacle to your work. If you start believing in your greatness, it is the death of your creativity.” Marina Abramovic Interview in The Economist

“William Burroughs always talks about the world is nothing but allies and enemies. And it’s important to understand what things around you are the enemies and a lot of the time your worst enemy is your ego.” John Frusciante (Source)

“At any moment in life you can convert to realism, which is not a belief system at all, but a way of looking at the world. It means every circumstance, every individual is different, and your task is to measure that difference, then take appropriate action. Your eyes are fixed on the world, not on yourself or your ego.” Robert Greene & 50 Cent The 50th Law

“You don’t make it far if you have a big ego. The guys that come in here with huge egos get smashed until they learn. Verbal reasoning won’t work, that’s where those guys live…you just gotta smash them until they get humble. And build them back up, if they can stand it.” Greg Jackson The Fighter’s Mind

“Whenever the world throws rose petals at you, which thrill and seduce the ego, beware. The cosmic banana peel is suddenly going to appear underfoot to make sure you don’t take it all too seriously, that you don’t fill up on junk food.” Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird

“Kill your darlings, kill your darlings, even when it breaks your egocentric little scribbler’s heart, kill your darlings.” Stephen King On Writing

“‘Your job is to get on base,’ says my son’s baseball coach. Ego likes a line drive, resulting in a double or triple, but, end of day, the goal of getting on base eclipses the how of getting on base. Just get there.” Callie Oettinger on Steve Pressfield’s blog (Getting on Base and the Long Game post on Steve’s blog)

“From my very first real fighting experience in Thailand, I saw that the best fighters were the most humble. But much like jiu-jitsu, you start to see it as a ‘chicken-and-egg’ problem. Is it that great fighters lose their ego? Or is it that you cannot become great unless you lose your ego? Your ego keeps you out of the zone? Guys who can naturally control big egos do better?” Sam Sheridan The Fighter’s Mind

“Thus, a great deal of time and energy in the world of the New England Patriots went into selecting players who were at least partially immune to displays of ego and self. This did not mean Bill Belichick was without ego—far from it. His ego was exceptional, and it was reflected by his almost unique determination. He liked being the best and wanted credit for being the best, a quiet kind of credit. But his ego was about the doing; it was fused into a larger purpose, that of his team winning. It was never about the narcissistic celebration of self that television loved to amplify.” David Halberstam The Education of a Coach

“Perfectionism is the ego’s wicked demand. It denies us the pleasure of process. Instead, we are told by the ego that we must have instantaneous success— and our perfectionism believes it, lock, stock and barrel.” Julia Cameron (Source)

“[Bill Belichick] was a man for better or for worse, remarkably without artifice. He had little gift or interest in modern public relations—if anything, he seemed almost uniquely resistant to it for someone so much, however involuntarily, in the public eye. He was about one thing only—coaching—and wary of anything that detracted from hit, and in his mind, much of the modern media, especially television, did precisely that—not just because it took up time that could be better spent doing other things, like watching a bit of film for the tenth or eleventh time and working with assistant coaches, but because it was singularly dangerous, it fed egos, and swollen egos detracted from the essence of football, which was the idea of team. Modern media created a Me-Me-Me world, whereas he insisted on a We world.” David Halberstam The Education of a Coach

“I don’t want to see you. I don’t like you. I don’t like your face. You look like an insufferable egotist. You’re impertinent. You’re too sure of yourself. Twenty years ago I would have punched your face with the greatest of pleasure.” Ayn Rand, The Fountainhead

“[Level 5 leaders] are somewhat self-effacing individuals who deflect adulation, yet who have an almost Stoic resolve to do absolutely whatever it takes to make the company great, channeling their ego needs away from themselves and into the larger goal of building a great company. It’s not that Level 5 leaders have no ego or self-interest. Indeed, they are incredibly ambitious—but their ambition is first and foremost for the institution and its greatness, not for themselves.” Jim Collins (Source)

“Our job, as souls on this mortal journey, is to shift the seat of our identity from the ego to the Self. That’s it.” Steven Pressfield (Source)

“Resistance seems to come from outside ourselves. We locale it in spouses, jobs, bosses, kids. “Peripheral opponents,” as Pat Riley used to say when he coached the Los Angeles Lakers. Resistance is not a peripheral opponent. Resistance arises from within. It is self-generated and self-perpetuated. Resistance is the enemy within.” Steven Pressfield War of Art

“Leaders must be willing to put the ship’s performance ahead of their egos.” Michael Abrashoff It’s Your Ship: Management Techniques from the Best Damn Ship in the Navy

“The great corrupter of public men is the ego—corrupter because distracter.” Dean Acheson Fragments of my Fleece

“Avoid having your ego so close to your position that when your position falls, your ego goes with it.” Colin Powell It Worked for Me: In Life and Leadership

“There’s no ego. Ego is the enemy, really. Being able to communicate in clear, concise fashion and make decisions as quickly as you possibly can. Knowing that first and foremost, we’re looking out for what’s best in the organization.” Seahawks GM John Schneider (Source)

“Ego says ‘I can do no wrong’, whereas confidence says ‘I can get this right.’ Confidence says ‘I’m valuable’ while ego says ‘I’m invaluable.’” Todd Henry (Source)

“The challenges they had faced together had taught them humility—the need to subsume their individual egos for the sake of the boat as a whole—and humility was the common gateway through which they were able now to come together and begin to do what they had not been able to do before.” Daniel James Brown The Boys in the Boat

“I believe that the biggest problem that humanity faces is an ego sensitivity to finding out whether one is right or wrong and identifying what one’s strengths and weaknesses are.” Ray Dalio (Source)

“Leaders must free their subordinates to fulfill their talents to the utmost. However, most obstacles that limit people’s potential are set in motion by the leader and are rooted in his or her own fears, ego needs, and unproductive habits. When leaders explore deep within their thoughts and feelings in order to understand themselves, a transformation can take shape.” Michael Abrashoff It’s Your Ship: Management Techniques from the Best Damn Ship in the Navy

“So here’s what you do: You say, “I have no ego at all.” Let’s start that way. “I have no ego, no cause to puff myself up.” Now let’s learn about the cosmic perspective. Yeah, we’re on a planet that’s orbiting a star, and a star is an energy source and it’s giving us energy, and we’re feeling this energy, and life is enabled by this energy in this star. And by the way, there’s a hundred billion other stars that have other planets. [..] So those who see the cosmic perspective as a depressing outlook, they really need to reassess how they think about the world. Because when I look up in the universe, I know I’m small, but I’m also big. I’m big because I’m connected to the universe and the universe is connected to me.” Neil deGrasse Tyson (Source)

“Steve Jobs had a remarkable knack for letting go of things that didn’t work. If you were in an argument with him, and you convinced him that you were right, he would instantly change his mind. He didn’t hold on to an idea because he had once believed it to be brilliant. His ego didn’t attach to the suggestions he made, even as he threw his full weight behind them. When Steve saw Pixar’s directors do the same, he recognized them as kindred spirits.” Ed Catmull Creativity Inc.

“Fight your own pride and ego and be open-minded and always learning new techniques, new things from anyone.” Sam Sheridan A Fighter’s Heart

“Egotism sucks us down like the law of gravity.” Cyril Connolly The Unquiet Grave

“The hallucination of separateness prevents one from seeing that to cherish the ego is to cherish misery. We do not realize that our so-called love and concern for the individual is simply the other face of our own fear of death or rejection. In his exaggerated valuation of separate identity, the personal ego is sawing off the branch on which he is sitting, and then getting more and more anxious about the coming crash!” Alan Watts The Book: On the Taboo Against Knowing Who You Are

“But there is another side [of ego] that can wreck a team or an organization. That is being distracted by your own importance. It can come from your insecurity in working with others. It can be the need to draw attention to yourself in the public arena. It can be a feeling that others are a threat to your own territory. These are all negative manifestations of ego, and if you are not alert to them, you get diverted and your work becomes diffused. Ego in these cases makes people insensitive to how they work with others and ends up interfering with the real goal of any group efforts.” Bill Walsh Interview (Source)

“Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves.” Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

“We’re all the stars of our own movies, but cutting back on the number of Do you know who I am? thoughts made my life infinitely smoother. When you don’t dig in your heels and let your ego get into entrenched positions from which you mount vigorous, often irrational defenses, you can navigate tricky situations in a much more agile way. For me humility was a relief, the opposite of humiliation.” Dan Harris 10% Happier

“The most striking features of the ego are three cognitive biases, which correspond disturbingly to thought control and propaganda devices that are to be defining characteristics of a totalitarian political system. The three biases are: egocentricity (self perceived as more central to events than it is), “beneffectance” (self perceived as selectively responsible for desired, but not undesired, outcomes), and conservatism (resistance to cognitive change).” Tony Greenwald, Professor of Psychology at the University of Washington (Source)

“But what about the huge egos of guys like Michael Jordan, who needed control over the court? Or Kobe Bryant? Their monstrous egos obviously don’t keep them out of the zone—Jordan’s the defining athlete of the concept. I can imagine it’s because they can compartmentalize and, in the moment, remove any trace of self-consciousness from what they do. They control it, like they control everything else. And they’re at peace with it, with taking the pressure shot.” Sam Sheridan The Fighter’s Mind

“[Bill Belichick] was completely dedicated to fighting off the virus caused by too much ego, all too aware of what it could do to his dominating purpose — playing championship-level team football. But a man like that, who was so driven to win, and who excelled again and again at such a high level, was hardly without ego. Instead, he had learned how to make his ego work for him, and to keep it from being a negative force.” David Halberstam The Education of a Coach

“When ego is gone, you wake up in the middle of the circle and now you’re a part of—not apart from—Life, Good, God.” Chuck C. A New Pair of Glasses

“The egotist does not stumble about, knocking things off his desk. He does not stammer or drool. No, instead, he becomes more and more arrogant, and some people, not knowing what is underneath such an attitude, mistake his arrogance for a sense of power and self-​­confidence.” Harold Geneen Managing

“My opponent is my teacher. My ego is my enemy” Renzo Gracie (Source)

***

Like to Read? I’ve created a list of 15 books you’ve never heard of that will alter your worldview and help you excel at your career. Get the secret book list here!