#also regular disclaimer if anyone is curious! he does in fact have no eyes but he is healthy and happy! :]

[crowempress]

LITTLE POTATO

[ikehoe]

Ikemen Prince Suitors Having Naughty Dreams – part 3 [Gilbert, Keith, Silvio] [Smut]

Characters �� Gilbert von Obsidian, Keith Howell, Silvio Ricci

Rating ↬ Explicit (mdni)

Tags ↬ Ikemen Prince Headcanon, Fluff, Smut, PIV, Established Relationships (for some characters)

A/N ↬ And this concludes the final part of the Ikeprince Wet Dream HCs (人◕ω◕). Unlike the other suitors, I don’t have much experience writing them, so it’s all based on the translations available.

You can read Part 1 here, and Part 2 here.

Disclaimer ↬ I do not own the rights to Ikemen Prince or any of the Ikemen series games.

Word Count ↬ 1.2k

Tag List ↬ @atelier-maroron @aquagirl1978 @kleeps @ikesimp100 @chaosangel767 @devildomwritersposts @themysticalbeing @and-then-she-died-tm @kpop-and-otome @rhodolitesroseforclavis @curious-skybunny @moonstruck-writing If you’re interested in being tagged (or untagged) in future fics, please DM me, comment, or fill out this form.

Gilbert von Obsidian

At first glance, Gilbert was an unshakeable man, all sinister charm hidden behind fake smiles. The evil he was capable of barely simmering beneath the surface.

When he visits Rhodolite under the guise of a diplomatic trip to repair the quickly souring Obsidianite and Rhodolite relationship, he ends up requesting you to be his guide during his stay.

After all, he already has suspicions about your stay in the Castle. Your outlook on things is just so different from all of the nobles around him.

You’re supposed to be guiding him around the Castle, so how does he end up being the one that leads you around?

But as each day passes by, he starts to look forward to being the one to cause that timid smile to form on your face. You’re still apprehensive around him, sure, but who wasn’t?

He just can’t help but fixate on your plump, soft lips whenever you call out his name.

“Prince Gilbert… Prince Gilbert? Are you alright? You’re looking a little dazed.”

And although his recovery is clumsy at best, he manages to play it off. But he knows that he’s never been so enraptured by someone before.

As he drifts off to sleep that night, his subconscious is swarmed with thoughts of your captivating lips wrapped around his length, tongue swirling around the head until he was uttering curses as he neared his release.

But it doesn’t just stop there. Not only is he captivated by your lips, but he’s also particularly appreciative of your shapely rear. Thank the gods that he gets to run his cane all along your sensitive flesh before he strikes down in one fluid motion, watching as you cry out for him.

And the next day, when he wakes up, undergarments spent with his release, he curses to himself as he realizes just how out of hand his “minor” obsession with you has become.

That’s why when you knock on his door, ready to do your duties of guiding him around the palace, he pulls you into his room and traps you in his arms instead, garnet eye gleaming with unbridled heat.

“You know, little bunny, hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s dangerous to get too close to a tiger?”

Keith Howell

The sweet and meek Prince of Jade, Keith Howell, wasn’t typically one for taking bold risks.

But the more he saw you, with your pretty hair and lovely smile, the more he wanted to be around you.

And so, he’s infinitely grateful to his dear friend, Yves, when the latter starts inviting him to regular tea parties with you. In fact, just call Yves the ultimate wingman as he sometimes wanders off, leaving the two of you alone, mumbling about needing to double-check if Clavis had broken into his room or not.

It gives Keith the perfect opportunity to admire you in all of your pure, captivating beauty and admire you he does. It’s only when you catch him in the act and offer him one of those smiles he adores so much is when he looks away, cheeks aflame, stammering an incoherent apology to you.

In fact, he’s so captivated by you that even the more sinister side of him becomes curious. His golden eyes sparkle as he examines you, bit by bit, no longer averting his gaze when you catch him in the act.

“P—Prince Keith? Is there something on my face?” You ask, hands flying to your cheeks immediately, rubbing at whatever was causing the olive-haired man to gaze at you.

“No, I just somehow find myself drawn to you every time you’re around… is this what love feels like?” He drawls, reaching out a gloved finger to grab a piece of your silken strands.

“W—what?!”

“I jest, of course. There’s no way someone as lovely as you would be interested in someone like me,” he says, gaze immediately softening as that switch in him flicked back on. “Let us continue eating these lovely darioles you’ve made.”

And yet, when he falls asleep that night, all he dreams about is him ravaging you, sucking your supple skin between his lips until he left mark after mark, until every inch of your body was covered in him.

Of course, when he was finally happy with his handiwork, he’d grab you close and line up against your entrance, eager to feel your needy walls welcome him in.

It’s a damn shame that he only had a week left to his visit in Rhodolite… Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to let the darker side of him handle you until his departure. After all, that heat in your gaze from his brazenness yesterday was unmistakable.

Silvio Ricci

As the Benitoitian Prince that can get everything and anything he wants, Silvio is utterly stunned when you refute his advances.

After all, he’s tried his best to charm (insult) you, and it usually works on all the women back in Benitoite – you should have been honoured to be called his pet!

Not to mention that annoying blonde servant you have around you at all times, glaring at him as though he were the scum of the earth. It’s a look Silvio is familiar with, but how could a man like that be someone you willingly keep around you?

No matter how many jewels he attempts to throw at you for a night of guaranteed pleasure with him, or the amount of money he offers you, you don’t give in, and it is infuriating.

Maybe that’s why you start visiting him in his dreams, taunting him, letting him have a ghost of a taste before drawing away from him. Your bare body singing to him like the sweetest siren song, all curves, and supple skin.

And then when he finally catches you, he gleefully realizes that despite how frustrated you make him, you really do taste just as sweet as you look, and he just can’t get enough.

Even in his sweetest dreams, you toy with him, teasing him until he’s wrapped around your pinky. He even lets you put a collar on him, just as long as you promise him to be his.

When he finally has your shapely legs wrapped around his torso, thrusting into you as the golden chains that hang from his neck swing above your face, he swears that he could give up everything he had just to keep indulging in your body.

But reality is a harsh slap in the face for him as he wakes up from his dream, body glistening with sweat, fists clenched at his sides.

All he could do for a bit of relief is fist his hardened length, sliding his hand up and down until he felt his release coat his digits, rasps of your name still hot on his tongue as he imagined how euphoric it would feel being inside you.

Despite all of the frustrations you brought him, there was no way he was leaving Rhodolite without having a taste of you. After all, he was the Prince that could get anything and anyone, and that includes you.

[imnotwolverine]

A special request

Henry Cavill x reader oneshot

Word count: 1.566 (it was supposed to a drabble mkey?) 

Disclaimer: just fluff

Summary: One of your fanfiction stories has made it to the silver screen, starring Henry as your lead. During a talkshow the two of you meet for the first time and fluffy awkwardness ensues. 

Author’s note: I dreamed this last night and I swear I was still blushing by the time I woke up - woops. 

‘Welcome, welcome Henry! Do sit down.’ The applause slowly died down as Henry sat down, smiling at Graham.

‘Thank you. Thanks for having me Graham.’

‘Now. I’d like to kick in this door straight away. We have a little surprise for you.’

‘A surprise? Okay.. haha’ Henry smiled, raising an eyebrow at the audience.

‘Don’t worry, don’t worry. We’re not going to kidnap you or anything.’ The audience laughed. ‘Now! You’re currently touring for your newest film and we found something that probably would..eh..tickle your fancy.’

‘You did?’ Henry gave a hesitant look at Graham.

‘Before we bring out the surprise, I’m curious; you received the script, which was based on a fanfiction..about you. Did you ever get to read the original story? The fan written one?’

‘I..did..actually. Wait. Please don’t tell me you’ve managed to get her here.’

‘Well..’ Graham shrugged and snickered happily. ‘..time to see for yourself.’ Graham jumped up from his chair and gestured his team to bring in “the present”.

Squinting your eyes and laughing hesitantly you walked up the stage - near losing your footing as you were to occupied with the bright hot lights that shone at the red couch. Meanwhile Henry looked over his shoulder at his “present” and it was clear to anyone he was struck with confusion.

Wait. THIS was the writer?

Graham was first to shake hands with you, allowing Henry some time to quickly scramble up to his feet.

‘Hello dear! So good to have you here and welcome to the Graham Norton show!’ The audience applauded happily as you grinned, your eye soon to land on a slightly flabbergasted Henry.

‘Hi.’ You giggled.

‘Uh..hi.’ Henry outstretched both arms, pulling you in for an awkward hug, leaving you no time to even register what was happening.

Graham chuckled and sat back down, twisting in his chair while you and Henry quickly took your place on the couch, a blush on both your cheeks.

‘So! SURPRISE!’ Graham smiled, flailing out his hands and near throwing his cards in the excitement.

‘This is..a surprise for sure.’ Henry breathed, looking back over at you.

‘First impressions?’ Graham cooed, seeing the nervous but curious looks the two of you shared.

‘Eh…damn you are way bigger than I had expected.’ You blurted out, laughing giddily. ‘I guess pictures DO only tell half the story.’

Henry laughed shyly, looking at his knees for a short moment before he looked back up at you, intrigued by what he saw.

‘Thanks..I guess? And as for me..well..I’ve never seen a picture of you or anything. So I must admit my imagination had run a little wild on what ..you..would look like.’

You raised your eyebrows, slightly surprised: ‘But you have thought about it? Wow. So do you always do that when reading someone’s story?’ You turned slightly, folding your arm over the backrest and pulling up a leg to get more comfortable.

‘Eh…’ Henry’s mind blanked for a moment as his eyes quickly flicked back and forth between Graham and you.

‘Admittedly..no.’ He licked his lips, looking at the audience for a slight as he continued. ‘I..guess this is a good moment to admit that I have read your work. All of your work. And I read your stories WAY before my agent even sent me that script.’

‘Really? Oh…’ Your face flushed bright red at the thought - all those paper thin plot lines to indulge in pure Henry smut? Yes. He read all of them.

Henry smiled, also leaning back on the sofa and moving an arm over the back rest - near mirroring your pose.

‘I really liked them.’ He said matter of factly, searching for eye contact with you. You smiled awkwardly and the fact the audience was “awe”-ing right now, didn’t help much in making the situation any less awkward.

‘Ha..That’s..good. Good. Wow I hadn’t expected that.’ You resumed, sitting up a bit and looking at Henry. He smiled warmly.

‘Okay. Maybe for the audience: just to kind of …share a little intel here.’ You looked at the audience. ‘I write fanfiction that includes what you best can describe as ..porn? With him being one of my regular characters. So. Yes. This is.. strange.’

The audience let out a loud chuckle, some people wooing.

‘Yea..well I’m glad they picked the romcom story to be filmed. Otherwise I might have had to make a career switch.’ Henry shrugged, grinning at the thought. You laughed.

‘Yea..even movie magic would have a hard time translating that in a PG-13 kind of way.’

The two of you snickered and Graham finally leaned back in.

‘Now Henry. You HAVE read all of her material. And you say you DID have some ideas on what she’d look like. I am probably not the only curious about what it is you were expecting?!’ The audience agreed with Graham and you also shrugged, admitting the curiosity was there.

Henry gave an exasperated look at the audience, then directed his attention back at you.

‘Well. Let’s first of all say I definitely didn’t expect anything close to what you look like, so bear with me. From the stories you wrote I could distill that you were at least medium height, probably dark or red haired and I figured you’d have green eyes since your first stories included a lot of characters with green eyes.’

‘Well, you got that right.’ You shrugged, seeing Henry hesitate.

‘I however didn’t expect you to be this…pretty? Eh..goodness this really puts me in the spot now, doesn’t it?’ Henry smiled awkwardly, hoping you wouldn’t get mad.

You however didn’t mind. If anything this was pure gold for your smutty heart.

‘Thank you…Hmm..Gosh this makes the whole situation even more weird. But I guess I could have expected as much. A few weeks ago someone reached out through my DM’s, asking if I wanted to be part of this show. I initially thought someone was pulling my leg. But alas. I got curious. Asked for their contact info. Contacted them. And yes. This was REAL…and now I’m HERE. With you! Life is so weird.’ You rambled, shaking your head in slight disbelief.

‘Well I’m glad you accepted the offer. It’s ..truly nice to meet you. For real now. Not just by reading your work.’

You smiled. ‘It’s nice to meet you too…Henry’ He grinned and you finally, finally dared to take a real, close look at him.

‘You really are one handsome man. Yeeus. In my mind you had like..some medium okay skin, some hair out of place and perhaps a crooked tooth or something. You don’t however. And your eyes are SO much more blue than I had expected. And that heterochromia..’ You gawked in amazement. ‘..okay..now I’m really just babbling. Sorry.’ You sniffled and quickly reached for the glass of wine that stood forlorn on the table.

Henry smiled and followed your movements with quiet curiosity. What he was thinking? Nobody knew.

Graham had been uncharacteristically quiet for some time now and was leaning in to intervene, but decided against it, sitting back in his chair. There was something going on between the two of you that was close to actual real chemistry. Sparks flying and all.

You noticed Graham’s hesitance and gave him a questioning look.

‘Oh please continue.’ Graham smiled, folding his hands in his lap like an excited school kid.

‘Eh okay..’ You turned your attention back to Henry, his blue eyes studying you. A giddy smile tugged on both your lips.

‘So do you write from own experiences?’ He asked.

‘I guess I do. Pretty much everything I write does come from my perspective, my experiences. Though of course..I fill in a lot too. Like..characterising you.’

‘I thought you characterised me pretty well.’ Henry smiled, seeing another shy blush cross over your cheeks.

‘Really?’

‘So much so that I maybe..saved some of your stories on my phone just so I could read them when I need it. Like…’ Henry pulled a face. ‘..like when I am feeling a bit lonely I’ll read the romcom stuff. When I’m fed up or annoyed some of the short stories - love your Geralt work - and when I’m a bit horny..well….’ The audience laughed. ‘Yea. It’s quite unique to be able to read porn about..yourself.’

‘Oh gods.’ You shrunk away a bit as Henry offered you a cheeky smile.

‘It’s…really good.’ Henry gave you a warm, unapologetic smile as you quickly drew in a breath, calming your nerves.

‘Dearness me. In a way you are fanboying over my work and I am fangirling over your work. And that’s all fun and games till you actually meet each other. Are we like…each others fans?’ You asked.

Henry’s smile grew as he tilted his head.

‘I guess we are, hmmm.’ Henry smiled, thinking.

‘Yep.’ You nodded, also somewhat lost in thought.

A quiet moment snuck in as you both took on a pensive expression.

...

‘He—.’ ‘Heyy.’ You both spoke simultaneously.

‘Ladies first.’ Henry quickly added.

You smiled: ‘If you have any special requests…I mean..I’d gladly…write..for you.’ With every word you became more confused, seeing Henry burst out in laughter, shoulders shaking.

‘That was just what I was about to ask.’

‘Hmm? Really?’

‘Really.’ He smiled, leaning in slightly. ‘First request. How about ..a first date?’

[denkimystery]

Denki Mystery: Six Idol Statues of Taboo - Chapter 8

Chorosuke: I've always wondered about the name "Jyushimatsu Festival". See, in this area, 'Matsu' is a forbidden word, in a sense.

Chorosuke: If all of us really do have “Matsu”* in our birth names, it would be terrible! Horrible!

Hajime: A word whose only trace is in the name of a bizzare festival? This would be the first time I’ve seen the Jyushimatsu festival in person. They wear masks and parade around, don’t they?

Takashi: I only see them once every year, but they wear oni demons and kitsune masks and chant things like "die, die**". What even is that?

Hajime: It is true that some of the festivals are called strange festivals, and there are some festivals that get rid of impurity by cursing with such a curse word.

Toshio: There's something that I’m worried about. My father is the head of the Ogami family and the priest of the festival, and every year he always does preparations. The day before the festival in an old factory on the outskirts of the village, in addition to the ritual tools of the shrine, he also prepares something else…... which is today.

Karatsugu: An old factory!? What kind of factory was it? Is it currently being used? Finally.... a real case to report!?

Chorosuke: Is it the Flag Factory? Mr. Flag, though he gets called "Man with the Red Flag" a lot, uses it as a pencil factory.

Ozo: Isn't there also a warehouse on the factory grounds? The pencils there are often used for participation prizes. We can go if you're curious? Like, right now.

Takashi: Sure. It's a bit scary, but... but can we even all get in a car?

Toshio: One person can fit in the trunk. Maybe.

Karatsugu: Eh!?... Why are you all looking at me? Why!? Ehhh!?

ー

ー Hatabou Factory, night.

[All of them are walking towards the factory.]

Ozo: Wow. As expected, the factory at night is spooky, isn't it? I wonder what strange things we can see here!?

Hajime: No sign of anyone. Well, it doesn't look busy enough to keep the factory running all night.

Takashi: In the past, they used to run all night long. They used to run breakfasts at our store too, for people who worked the night shift looking for something to eat...

Karatsugu: What did they used to make before it turned into a pencil factory? Did the previous master ever discuss it with the regulars? … Just curious.

Takashi: Huh? Papa never talked about those kinds of things with the customers often. Well, it was a better time for the economy. I wonder what they were making?

[While Takashi and Karatsugu are having their conversation, Ozo stops in front of the factory, struggling with something.]

Ozo: Hnggh? This door won’t open!?

Chorosuke: Stop!? You're trespassing!?

Hajime: We've already come this far, we're practically trespassing already..

Chorosuke: No, that's not the case at all!? Once you get inside it's an entirely different thing, you know what I mean? We can't just wander in you know!?

Ozo: Oh! You think we can climb the fire escape? … Wanna go?

Karatsugu: It seems that way. It's too dark to see much from above, but… sounds like it’s worth a try, right?

[[They start climbing the stairs nearby, much to chorosuke’s reluctance.]]

Takashi: Phew! Just how many floors even are there!?

Chorosuke: Seriously! Wouldn’t it be bad if we get caught? ... Well, maybe since we’re outside the building? Our chances would be better…

Karatsugu: Alright! We’re almost at the rooftop.

[Slowly everyone starts clambering to the roof top.]

Hajime: Phew. That was a tough one. Hm? One more rung up the ladder ...? Is it the height of the factory sign?

Toshio: Maybe there are some remnants of the past. Shall we go?

Hajime: I can’t see it that well. Is there any light nearby...

Ozo: I have a flashlight!

[[Ozo turns on the flashlight he's been holding and shines the light on the signboard.]]

Ozo: Huh? What's all this?

Hajime: There are signs of repainted letters on the signboard. I wonder what?

[[Hajime takes the flashlight from Ozo. Carefully scanning each letter the light heads further right, stopping on "F".]]

The “F” in “Flag Factory” seems to be just a paint job, covering some parts of the original letter.

Karatsugu: Is the name reworked from something else? "Flag" ... "Black"? It's a bit too on the nose.***

[[With everyone's attention on the signboard. Takashi takes a step back. Out of the corner of his eye he notices something.]]

Takashi: Ah! Turn off the flashlight! A car is coming!

[[Hajime fumbles with the flashlight to turn it off. Everyone crouches down to peer over the rooftop.]]

Takashi: ... It stopped.

[[The doors open and a familiar face gets off.]]

Takashi: Is that... Papa? No, it’s… the head of the Ogami.

Hajime: Uh, you know. The woman holding a log next to him…

Chorosuke: No, he’s a man.**** Grows mushrooms. One of my students, Iyami-san.

[[Iyami and Priest Ogami enter one of the buildings.]]

Chorosuke: They went into the warehouse. … Huh?

Ozo: They came out so soon? Wait.. what's with the sudden increase in the number of people!? Are they saying "It's the eve of the festival, Dayooon!"!?

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

Yes the name is from the Jyushimatsu festival (Jyushimatsu Matsuri) is from the titular episode from season 1. The kanji for “matsuri” used here is 祀り and not the usual kanji for festival (祭). 祭 means festival but 祀りmeans enshrinement. This is a clue to the weird happenings in Akatsuka Village. What is being enshrined? Why is the whole town involved? The specific matsu that Chorosuke is talking about is the 松 from Jyushimatsu and not 祀 from Matsuri.

** Todomatsu uses the hiragana spelling “しねしね” (shi-ne-shi-ne), since he doesn’t know the meaning of what they’re chanting.

*** Flag “フラッグ Factory is phonetically similar to Black “ブラック” Factory. In fact, if you remove the diacritic in ブ and add one to ク, you get Flag. Also yes, black factory references the original black factory in season 1.

**** Chorosuke,,,,,,,,,,, sigh,,,,,,,, can’t I enjoy a piece of japanese media that ISNT A LICK OF TRANSPHOBIC????? I’m gonna keep the direct translation, but I’m fucking SIDE EYEING THE WRITERS. There is no need??? For transphobia??? “Haha this “woman” is “actually a man in a dress”” jokes aren’t funny. Disclaimer, every time Iyami is mentioned I’m gonna try my best to use gender neutral language and if push comes to shove I WILL use female identifiers.

[all-cursed]

Meet my first OC to have a specific fandom they’re attached to!

So I’ve never created an OC specifically for the universe of a show before, they’ve always been fandomless, but I was excited to create one for Wynonna Earp. I’m going to give him a proper page on the muse list as well as give everyone more detailed biographies eventually, but for now, this should work.

DISCLAIMER: to anyone who may have concerns, please know that I myself am Native American (Blackfoot and Cherokee), and did a lot of research while creating this character to make sure I do them justice and create an actual Native character that isn’t just a stereotype. Some parts that might seem stereotypical - such as the name this character chooses to go by - just comes with the modern era the universe is set in and the character’s own reasons. Several of the struggles he faces as well are specifically chosen because I hope to raise awareness in some small ways to the struggles that IPOC face even today. None of it is meant to be fetishising or stereotypical - some of it just exists in that space as an unfortunate reality.

Alright! Here we go.

                                                       [    i.    STATS   ]

NAME.  meecha wo’i  " crow "  redwolf .   

AGE.  23 as of 1x01 .

DOB.  nov 29th ,  1993 .

GENDER. gender-indifferent cis male  :   prefers he/him or they/them pronouns .

PREF. pansexual but has a preference for men and nonbinary individuals 

SPECIES.  human ,  witch  ,   skinwalker .

RESIDENCE.  the  ghost  river  triangle  .

OCCUPATION. former cashier ; former lead guitar in an up and coming rock band ; current bartender . 

ETHNICITY. in simple terms: native american. specifically: hopi and creek. some scottish but not by much. 

 [    ii.    INTROSPECTION    ]

POSITIVE TRAITS.   curious ,   adaptable ,  perceptive ,   creative ,   passionate ,   loyal ,   perseverant , open-minded , compassionate .

NEUTRAL TRAITS.  persuasive ,   withdrawn (at first; nervous about other’s intentions) ,   secretive , free-wheeling .

NEGATIVE TRAITS.  temperamental ,   unrestrained ,  spiteful ,   reckless ,   capricious ,   hedonistic .

DISLIKES.  sounds of traffic or loud machinery in general &  the sound of metal on metal &  the smell of cheap perfume/cologne &  hot weather &  dust  &  houseflies &  being told (instead of asked) what to do &  rap music &  wool scarves &  fluorescent lights &  lack of hygiene &  orange flavoured candies/sodas/anything that’s not an actual orange &  deep dark waters he can’t see the contents of &  mistreatment of animals &  having assumptions made about him  &  mathematics &  onions &  football  .

LIKES.  the scent and sound of rain &  physical touch &  candles , lighters , and controlled flames in general &  the smell of cedar , pine , and the forest &  music and playing musical instruments &  italian food &  raving about attractive people with others; intoxication is a bonus &  leather; wearing it and the smell of it &  glasses clinking together &  late night talks &  stargazing &  drawing / sketching &  records and record players &  animals &  'stealing’ and wearing the clothes of people he’s close with &  running &  card games &  dancing and singing & creating something out of nothing &  getting the last word .

HOBBIES. drawing &  singing and playing instruments &  exploring / learning as many places as they can like the back of their hand & people watching  &  drinking and bar hopping &  seeking pleasure and adventure wherever he can find it & collecting random things he enjoys / likes .

WEAKNESSES. he’s standoffish until he knows he can trust a person and can come off rude or aloof  & the inability to let go of most grudges &  his tendency to follow his desires and his heart before logic or his mind  &  impulsivity when emotional .

STRENGTHS. independence and ability to function and thrive alone (even if he would prefer to have company it is not mandatory) &  ability to be resourceful and adapt to new situations quickly &  handles time-sensitive situations well due to his tendency to act quick and think later &  stubbornness to stick to a task and see it through &  quick thinking &  agility and speed of inhuman proportions (thanks to his less than human side) .

HABITS. clicking his teeth together repeatedly when annoyed &  flexing  fingers & playing with his hair in absentminded / lazy moments &  silently staring at someone when he’s done with a conversation until they catch the hint and stop talking  &  if there’s music playing within earshot he always ends up swaying to the beat  &  will often make less than human sounds (growls, etc.) when angry if he doesn’t catch himself .

EDUCATION. average  student  throughout  elementary ,  middle &  high  school .  graduated with an equally average gpa of 3.0 , &  decided against college, choosing to seek education in less typical places .  fed up with his family and much of the treatment of his peers, he began to learn magic from a witch he met on one of his regular trips to wander the ghost river triangle and explore & learnt magic and about the more mystical parts of purgatory - ultimately becoming a skinwalker via the witch’s guidance and training .

[  iii. APPEARANCE  ]

FACECLAIM.  booboo stewart . 

HEIGHT.  5 ' 8 " ,  though when able to he wears combat boots that add a few inches to his height . 

EYES.  a very keen and observant hazel when he’s in human form .   when shifting , eye colour can range from yellow to red to green to blue depending on many factors - location , how far he shifts , etc .  always alert and bright unless intoxicated or in very rough shape emotion-wise . often wishes they were green or grey and has considered wearing contacts to change his eyes (human-wise) to those colours.

EYEBROWS.   defined  arch  but not so much so that it’s dramatic .  not too thin and not too bushy , and naturally neat - he rarely has to tend to them and usually only does so to shave a tiny slit or two through them as a stylistic choice .

HAIR.  long and dark ;  sleek with an ever so slight wave to it .  typically worn either down or in a loose ponytail , occasionally sections are braided .  falls just a few inches above his ribcage .  every so often he’ll dye streaks into his hair but has never dyed his whole head .

SCARS.  many . he has a variety of smaller scars from a rowdy childhood; a few faint ones on his hands and arms from scratches borne of cats and dogs . the typical scars that come from falling off bicycles or off swings ; scraped knees and cuts on chins . his forearms especially are covered in scars he prefers not to speak of .  there’s a scar on his forehead from a fight with his cousin as well as a few long scars on his back .

DRESSING STYLE.  it varies depending upon mood and whatever job he has at the time . especially fond of punk / alternative styles , likes leather , and enjoys the comfort of loose and flowing garments. whatever style he happens to choose at any given time , he wears well and somehow always manages to draw attention - whether from the jewelry he accessorises with (varieties of bracelets and cuffs , rings , pendants with gems , etc.)

LIPS.  naturally  full ,  scar at the right corner of his lip , occasionally  sore or split when he goes through anxious phases and tends to chew at his lips .

SKIN.   smooth , tanned . he doesn’t have much body hair , a fact that doesn’t tend to bother him much. he rarely engages in a skincare routine and much like his eyebrows generally stays neat and well-kempt without much effort . does not wear much makeup but enjoys eyeliner from time to time . if not for his skin tone, the dark circles beneath his eyes would be much more visible .

CHEEKS.  defined cheekbones ,   not easily flushed .  sports the occasional scars due to nervous picking when he was younger.

[  iv. ABILITIES  ]

LANGUAGES SPOKEN. english  [ fluent ] ,  hopi  [ conversational &  spellwork language ] , spanish  [ conversational ] .

THREAT LEVEL.  mediocre  to  high .

WEAPONS.  fairly efficient in his understanding of magic and can easily hold his own with either combative or defensive magic ,  but prefers when possible to rely on his own physical skills ; is proficient in hand to hand combat thanks to the speed , agility , and strength bequeathed upon him by his skinwalker nature . very skilled in knifeplay , whether throwing or up close . has little to no practise with firearms as of 1x01 . 

MAGIC. magic learnt by his mentor was primarily elemental based and neutral in that it could easily be manipulated for defensive or offensive ; he was never extremely proficient and left before he could complete his training so he is still learning his limits and the heights he can reach , and wants to branch out . as for the magical abilities granted by his status as skinwalker - he is able to shapeshift , which saps him of certain levels of energy that depend upon what creature he takes the shape of . he is also granted higher than average speed, agility, and strength because of this which he keeps with him even when not shifting.

 [  v. DETAILS  ]

➣➣ he was born in georgia originally to a loving but struggling mother and father - his mother was hopi and his father was creek, and while both parents had originally lived on their own respective reservations, they had met one another by chance during a trip and fallen in love, eventually deciding to seek out their own home outside of the reservations. his parents loved him but struggled financially; eventually his mother’s sister offered to take him in. as that was the better option rather than the three of them becoming homeless, crow’s parents sent him to live with his aunt in arizona on the rez. while they stayed in touch, his parents needed to stay in georgia, and as such he only would see them on the occasional holiday.

➣➣ while his aunt meant well, his cousins were another story. living with his aunt and uncle would have been fine had it not been for their two children; a son and daughter who constantly bullied him behind their backs for not being pure hopi as they were, often harassing him about being a ‘halfbreed’. a quiet boy at heart to boot, he faced bullying in school as well all the way through high school. his cousins, in tenth grade, snooped in his room and found his journal - which they used to out him as pansexual to the school.

➣➣ the moment he graduated, he spent as much time off the rez as possible, avoiding his cousins. on one of his frequent trips to simply explore nearby cities and towns, he found himself in purgatory. one drunken night led to following a mysterious woman into the woods. as it turned out, she was a witch. intrigued and excited at the idea of learning magic and having a way to defend himself, he quickly took her up on her offer to teach him. after a few months, she let him in on her secret - she was a skinwalker.

➣➣ she talked up how powerful she was because of it, and how no one would ever hurt her again. the more he heard about it, the more he wanted it. still unhealed from the way he was treated growing up and too caught up in the concept of never having to be beneath someone ever again, he agreed to let her hold the ceremony that would make him one as well without thinking of the consequences. when she told him that the final task he needed was to kill a family member... he almost faltered but agreed and went back to the rez. 

➣➣ he almost didn’t do it. it was night when he returned, and he could see his male cousin drinking on the porch. the concept of killing someone - even someone like his cousin who had treated him so poorly - was daunting. he might have changed his mind had his cousin not seen him arriving and was immediately being malicious; using homophobic slurs and accusing crow of having run off with a lover, talking about how disgraceful it was. and it all was a blur from there.

➣➣ bringing back a lock of his cousin’s hair to the witch, she finished the rituals and he became the creature she had promised - powerful but at what cost? still wrought with guilt despite having made the ultimate choice, crow left the forests on the outskirts of purgatory where he had been training and into the ghost river triangle itself, unable to go home after what he did and unable to stomach facing the witch. living out of his truck, he went from odd job to odd job, eventually landing a stable job as a cashier at a grocery store. around this time he chose to begin going by the name crow - both to distance himself from his past, and because if someone were to want to control or destroy him now as a skinwalker, they could do so if they knew his true, personal name. as such, a nickname seemed the safest bet. 

➣➣ fastforward to present day (1x01). after a few years of cashiering and attempting to rent rooms and apartments without success, as well as a stint playing guitar for an up and coming rock band, crow landed a job as a bartender at one of the local bars and instead of attempting to rent rooms or apartments, ended up moving into the trailer park. it was sketchy to say the least, but he couldn’t afford anything fancy and clearly didn’t handle having roommates well. a trailer seemed like the next best thing, outside of living in the woods or in his truck. his tendency to mind his own business and expect that of others meant that he mingled with normal purgatory residents and the revenants equally, pursuing his hedonistic nature as he pleased. which was all well and good, until things began to get... a lot more chaotic due to a curse and an heir he had originally had no knowledge of. 

               [ MORE TO COME THROUGHOUT                                               CHARACTERIZATION DEVELOPMENT ]

[heykillmongerluhme]

G H O S T: Onto Me

I N S P O: Haunted x Beyoncé (Listen to if you want to height experience); Also the whole BEYONCÉ album just for a different feel

N O T E: Soo, this is my first Erik Stevens installation and I will probably do many more. I love to write, just period. This is short, it may end up to be something more, I really don’t know. I am just following my Muse Juice lol. Comments, Feedbacks, and any other things please give me! I appreciate it all. Please, enjoy.

W A R N: I am an adult and everything is 21+. I write angst, fluff, and smut. I will try everything to be as real as possible. If there are any deep triggers, it will be stated after this disclaimer. Some chapters may have lyrics, others may not. It will all depend on the chapter.

T R I G G E R: Alcohol; Anxiety

W O R D: 3.1k

G H O S T: Onto Me

I'm climbing up the walls 'cause all the shit I hear is boring. All the shit I do is boring.

“Do you trust me?” the warm breath brushed on her exposed stomach. 

Flat in its natural state, it churned to anything but. Soft, rhythmic breathing filled her bedroom as she watched the figure beneath her. Her eyes must have been filled with dark lust because the only thing that she felt was the heaviness on her bottom half. Only a silhouette in her view. She wanted to moan their name but she was interrupted by a sting from a bite.

“Ow..” Soliyah giggled softly, eyes fluttered down to the dominating figure that drove her up the wall. The question still not answered by Soliyah was the reason for her punishment of the love bite against her belly. 

“I asked, do you trust me?” the figure questioned along her stomach with a short growl intertwining with their words. Trust receiving the lowest octave. Soliyah’s eyes finally flutter open, but slightly. Her eyes landed on what seemed to be an amber-like hue pair back at her. Breathlessly, she nodded.

“Say it” the eyes growled back to her, consuming her body in their hands. Lips planted on her stomach, hands trailing to her love spot.

Her bottom falling limply as she cried out “I trust..you⎼” 

EGH!EGH!EGH!EGH!EGH!

“Hmm..” Soliyah whined as her face plastered in her ivory and periwinkle Egyptian Cotton bedsheet. She wasn’t frustrated because she had to go to her dead-end job, but because this was the 2nd time that she has had that exact dream. It would always stop right there, though. She could never see who the mystery figure who had invaded her dreams for the past 3 weeks. Soli did attend a bachelorette party around that same time, but she couldn’t be that deprived could she? Her brown slit of eyes watched as her iPhone clock changed from 6:55 AM to 6:56 AM. Planning for her day ahead she managed to swing her relaxed thighs from under the covers.

Soliyah was always curious as to why that quote-on quote wet dream, felt more like a real-life simulation. She made a note to herself that only two glasses of wine should suffice for her daily nightcaps after work. The 27-year-old, Soliyah Burnett was fortunate enough to become an adjunct professor for Charles R. Drew University of Medicine and Science. She was looking forward to a promotion to become a permanent professor. Also, she is waiting to be placed with a hospital for her residency. 

She did not always want to be a doctor, it sort of just became her destiny. Soli, as everyone would call her, always knew that her job was always going to be to heal people. Though she would like to become a permanent professor, she wanted to be a doctor more. Her thoughts of her future - the one she would have daily - clouded her mind before she became alerted of a Facetime call from her long-time friend, Nala. Yes, like The Lion King. Let’s just say, moms was obsessed. She flicked the excess water from her fingers from the sink, sliding the call waiting to the right. 

“Yuurp” she bellowed through brushed gums.

“Ew, girl answer the phone like a regular person” a wrinkle formed over Nala’s nose as a goofy glance of disdain fell. “Good Morning!!” her words changed to her frequently up-so-happy attitude.

“You are too loud this morning, I don’t be gettin’ it” Soli mumbled before spitting out the froth of the minty toothpaste into the sink of running water. It was true, Nala was definitely a morning person and it didn’t help that they worked at the same place. Matter of fact, Nala put in a good word for her, seeing as though that she is on the Board of Directors at the school. 

“How can you not be up in the morning? When you have your own practice, and you will” she affirmed to her always doubting friend “You gon’ have to be gettin’ that ass up around, like,  4:00 AM at least” 

Her eyebrows raised as the echo of the ridiculous time ranged in Soli apartment bathroom. “L-O-L” she actually spelled out, she was corny like that sometimes. “You are funny, I’ma see how I can finesse that to be ‘Nah’”. 

With her laidback slur that ran from her bewitching face, one would be confused. A delicate woman that looks like she, but had the heart and brute strength of confident language. You would not know that she was a professor to over 400 students - not simultaneously -  and may obtain her residency at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles. Everything was going to be set.

x x

“Tonight’s the big night!” Nala cheered through the speakers of Soliyah’s Onyx 2018 BMW 6 Series Gran Turismo. She let out a sigh that was becoming well needed by the hour. Tonight she was going to find out where she was going to be placed. It was Sinai or nothing else, it was going to be that.

“Yeees, I am so nervous” she confessed to her best friend. They were those type of friends, talked on the way to work and at work and on the way home. They practically grew up attached at the umbilical cord. Unbeknownst to the mothers, they delivered them both at the hospital a day apart and turned out to be new neighbors to one another, as both families were of newlyweds. Small world would be an understatement. Soliyah never questioned the universe and its decisions, but she always was thankful. 

“Don’t be, after work we are going out to find out this information. Cannot have the repeat of acceptance of Doctrine night, mm mm” Nala’s head shook as if Soli could see before they both let out a peal of uniformed laughter.

Her eyes focusing in on her designated parking spot as her lip tucked beneath her teeth, she parked in her spot. “I’ma see you inside” she confirmed with her waiting friend as they said their ‘Okay’s’ before hanging up. Soliyah opened up her front face camera on her phone to do any last-minute checks of her appearance before facing the day. She fluffed her blowout before feeling a heavy, energy-sucking feeling from behind. She definitely felt eyes on her, snapping her head back around to her backseat she looked for what could be a perpetrator. Adrenaline running down quickly as she saw nothing, she snorted at herself for even thinking that anyone would be able to get into the back of her car without notice.

Shaking off the level of spook that she felt, Soli, retrieve her well needed essentially for this 8:00 AM Tuesday morning. Laptop, Tea, Phone, and Lesson Plans. The list is checked off, she made her way up the walkway as some students she was familiar with gave small greetings. A hard tingle went over her ass running up her back. There it was again and this time goosebumps decorated the nape of her neck. Trying, now, not to look paranoid she turned around quickly, but not to alert anyone as she looked for any person who may look strange or who is just having a hard time not staring at her ass. Again, she saw nothing out of the ordinary.

x x

“Okay, you gave me two old historical natural medicines that have helped the human race. Does anyone know of the other?” Soli’s eyes danced across the confused students' faces. She wasn’t disappointed that they didn’t know the answer, quite frankly she was surprised that the class was able to muster up two answers. This class was a drag to the student, imagine how Soli felt teaching and trying to make it fun. Her eyes scanned against the auditorium filled the room as she saw a hand from the way in the back raise. She couldn’t see their face but the gleam of what seemed to be their gold watch shone like an SOS light enough for her to see.

“Yes?” she inquired while calling on them, some eyes turning, some eyes focused on Ms. Soli as the students like to call her.

“Marijuana” the student answered truthfully as the class erupted into laughter. Some ‘Oo’s’ and name-calling rounded up the room. Soli laughed at the reaction of the students, knowing that the joke was on them. Hearing the fade of the class settling down, Soli projected “He is not completely off, it was not specifically Marijuana but the chemical named ‘CBD’ aka Cannabidiol. So, thank you for that” 

“What about Vibranium? That’s been around for thousands of years and it’s mined naturally, IN Africa? We don’t talk about that” a female’s voice crowded the room as others asked confused about what Vibranium and its purpose. Others agreed with the protesting young woman. Soli had minimal knowledge to other forms of resources other than Western ones, she sort of felt like an airhead for the brief moment. However, she was never the type of person to say she knows something when that is furthest from the truth. 

“Honestly, Chey, I have no clue. They don’t have it in the curriculum and that sucks.” Soli's throat began to create a dry patch as she spoke in her truth, something she often did in front of her students “Myself included, I do not know too much about the resource and its effects. I would love to become educated by anyone who has the information, privately, of course, can’t be disrupting my class” laughter erupted through the class before quieting down just as quickly the wave came  

“But” she continued “I will try my best for us to incorporate more history of us and our people and their contribution to medicine more often. Please bring in your information”

“Aye! You a real one, Ms. Soli” one her comedic students bellowed out in the classroom and others agreed with their laughter. 

“Don’t gas me” she laughed along with the student, looking to the clock seeing that the class still had 20 minutes worth of lecture left. “Aight, aight settle down. Now, what is the purpose of each of the three medicines?” her commanded attention on the class reigned as hands shot up waiting to be chosen.

x x

“Soliyah! Hurry up before all the good seats are gone!” Nala squeaked in the low-breeze of the California wind. 

“Waddaminute child!” Soli beckoned back as she ran across the semi-busy street from her parallel parked car. “Tryna get me smooshed out here” she breathed out a chuckle, half from catching her breath and the other half from being caught off guard from the wind that hit her. “Come on” she shooed her friend inside to the lounge.

This was definitely Soliyah’s kind of scene. Quaint but enough individuals in the vicinity to capture a story or two. The lights dim and powdered like as the hue of black and brown furniture decorated the place. Sounds of the long loc’d fellow, spit out his spoken word through the worn brown leather book. She smiled to herself and to Nala as her best friend truly knew her. If she was to find out if she got into Sinai or not, she would have wanted to celebrate (or wallow) in a place like this. 

Once they found their seats, the night started to drift on pretty quickly. However, to Soli, it seemed that every millisecond within the 60 seconds was dragging. She wanted to rip the band-aid off but she couldn’t find the strength to even peek at her phone. 

“I’m going to do it for you if you don’t open up that damn phone” a tortilla chip bounced in Nala’s open mouth as she spoke once more, picking up another chip “It’s way past 6 o’clock, they have sent it. You got into Sinai and we are going to turn up. So, let’s get it!”

Half wanting to kick her under the table and half wanted to thank her for getting her out her thoughts, she picked up her phone slowly off the table and waited for the Face ID to recognize her. Her trembling thumb danced to her email icon, keeping breath in she searched through pointless emails only looking for the one that stated “Congratulations! You have been Placed!”.

Behold as she manifests it, there the subject was staring at her. This was it, her residency at one of the most popular hospitals in this area was all she wanted once she started her program at UCLA. Pressing the button, she read the letter stating her congratulations but a frown quickly found her lips as she read what could be some of the grammatical error. Or Los Angeles and Oakland look a lot alike in the dictionary.

“What does it say? What’s it say?!” Nala eagerness broke Soli from her dumbfounded look. If anyone told her that her face could stay like that if she made it, she would just keep it for the rest of her life. Not speaking quick enough, Nala snatched the phone sighing out, rolled eyes to follow at her apprehensive best friend. Soliyah looked up her almond-colored friend as she read through the email with a wide-spread smile then just like clockwork, down to frown.

“Oakland?” she questioned

“Oakland,” Soli answered, unenthusiastically to add. 

“I mean...at least you got placed?” her friends' natural switch to optimism charged up but Soli sour mood climbed it down with a single look.

x x 

“An-nd you want to know what else?” Soliyah was completed drained at this point, three shots of Henny in and a Long Island. It was almost time for her to go home. Soli was not much of hard liquor drinker but she felt that need for the occasion.

“Listenn..” an internal burp bumped into her chest as her glossy brown orbs watched Nala. Nala had stopped a drink and a half ago, knowing that her friend needed this moment. “It’s not that I don’t like Oakland, my fuckin’ family is from there!” her volume raising an octave causing Nala’s eyes to fly open after they sleezed overhearing the story of how she put herself through all schools, she made it out of her neighborhood, and being the youngest to do what she is doing in her social and work circle.

“It’s just that I l-left” she pointed to the right indication moving forward “so that I don’t have to go back” her fingers fling opposite direction almost spilling her drink “until I had my own practice, learning fromm these wealthy ass people over here! Infiltrate and then invest in our community!” Soli began to channel her inner Chey. 

“Alright, Angela Davis, I think that we had enough for the night. So much for no repeats” Nala said more to herself but Soli caught the joke and bellowed out a burst of laughter, though it was a  bit more extra needed than the statement.

“I will be right back” Nala got the idea of grabbing napkins and speaking to the bartender about having plastic bags and water, they were going to need it. But, before Nala could depart from Soli, like lightening her left fingertips wrapped around her medium wrist “Waait, no no, don’t go. I’ve been feeling like some has been watching me like just been watching me” she repeated to her friend before the fear didn’t resonate with her but with liquor being her catalyst. The real emotions were surfacing.

Nala’s eyebrows knitted together watching her frantic friend, watching as her face is flushing colors of red and green indicating that they needed to go home right away. So, to oblige and get out of there quicker, she nodded in hopes to have Soli follow “Okay, baby, and if he comes around here we gon’ fuck ‘em up okay?” her mother like tone soothed Soliyah at best for right now.

“Okay,” she mimicked before sitting back and watch her friend disappear into what was the growing crowd. Her eyes scanned the bar as she tried her best to maintain her composure in this public establishment. She definitely went over her limit and was using a sick day the next day, it was needed. She felt that feeling again. Someone was watching her and she was trying to raise up to notice the creep but only did it with her eyes. Peeking through her small fingers, her eyes lashed tickled inside her palms searching for whatever stranger was staring at her.

Then, an instant lock or connect had formed. Sober or intoxicated, Soli had never felt another like it before. It was like when you knew that you were in the right place, at the right time, with the right person. Eager now, her eyes shot up to now catch this culprit she has been playing with what felt like all day. 

Maybe it’s all in my head? She thought foolishly to herself, she knew someone was watching her. The next 3 seconds felt like a lifetime as in the search for what she thought the culprit would look like, her eyes passed a stranger that her brain made sure to mentally to take a snapshot of. The figure stood still by himself with the crowd around him, eyes set on Soliyah and only her. The familiar amber-hue she sought after the first dream came into view. Her body froze but the heart was hot as the California week with no rain or sign of a cloud. Mind you, this was all in a matter of 3 seconds. 

She thought of how when you look around and other people look around too, you catch each other’s gaze. This shit wasn’t like that for real, it was like the figure was waiting for her eyes to meet his. Sobered up slightly, scared to scanned her 180 degrees way back, she did it despite the fear of the man still staring at her. Remember, this was a matter of 3 seconds of how long their eyes met. Disappointed that the figure that once stood out to her in the crowd was now gone. 

“What’s wrong with you?’ Nala appeared looking in the direction that Soliyah had her eyes set on before looking to her. Soli didn’t notice the apparent frown that crowded her face as she stared that the very spot sacred like he was going to magically appear back.

Eyes drawing from the spot, she faced her friend “Nothing, I think it is time for me to go” the rummage in her stomach signaling on cue.

“Ya think?” Nala laughed as she grabbed her drunken friend, leading her to her car, being the designated driver for the there 5-minute ride home.

x x x

I hope you guys like this! Sorry if this was so slow but I really just wanted to set the scene and the tone for you guys! I hope that this story can go far, I may want to be short but it’s really long. Idk, just going to keep writing. Cause the ideas chile! But anyways, please read and review! I would love it!

- KD

[entelexcheia]

(( ‘AU!’‘AU!’‘AU!’ Gimme all the AUs you can throw at me! Or maybe just one; don't want you burning out. ; w ;

send me ‘AU!’ and i will ramble about an AU i want to use more, develop and have thread in, or one i just don’t get to enthuse about enough on my blog. ( x )

One will do. I’m afraid I’ll burn out if I try to ramble about all of my AUs in one post so thank you for the consideration, hahaha. 

I’ve been thinking a lot about the Noir AU we came up with though, so I’ll be discussing that one. I’ll be including Yuli in this, if you don’t mind.

I’m honestly not familiar with the noir genre so chances are I’ll be taking plenty of creative liberties, drawing inspiration from many different sources which may or may not even be relevant to noir. If anything, I’d say this is just crime fiction, generally speaking. 

Disclaimer: I’m very bad at world building, especially with AUs that pertain to a specific genre, so please bear with me. 

I’m not going to base this entirely in reality. Loosely, but that’s about it. I’d rather refrain from using real-life locations and real-life events, just out of personal preference. Yes, I know I use real-life stuff in my regular headcanons but give me a break.

So, we’ll start off with an urban setting. My mind goes to New York City, namely Manhattan around the early to mid 1900s. Probably leaning towards the mid 1900s, considering that film noir is associated with the 40s and 50s. 

Overall, the mood/tone is very pessimistic, because that’s more or less what the film noir genre seems to encompass. Corruption and organized crime are prominent in the city and it seems as if those groups, particularly the criminal organizations, have the most power and influence.

And now a very basic run-down of the characters involved in this AU. Not every detail is fleshed out, as I’m still developing them. Details are subject to and likely to change at any time. Feel free to contribute any ideas, if you’d like, especially for Yuli’s involvement in the AU or any of your other muses for that matter. 

Wilhelm

Private investigator. Probably a war veteran, given that post-war themes are common in film noir, so he’s struggling with some form of post-traumatic stress disorder. Smokes and drinks to alleviate the stress from his line of work and generally to cope emotionally and mentally. 

Has a dead wife, because of course he does, and an estranged son, because of course he does. Has a dead personal assistant/best friend too. Otherwise, he doesn’t have any close relatives or even anyone he can really call a close friend, for that matter. Not much emotional support there, unfortunately.

But all in all, he’s really not a bad guy. He may be a crestfallen, pessmistic man struggling with substance abuse but he genuinely wants to expose the corruption in the city and restore some semblance of peace and stability. He’s willing to put in the work and effort to do so, since the city needs that more than anything, more than ever before. 

Charlotte

Popular singer and dancer who performed at various venues. She was well-liked for her voice but she was adored for her beauty and personality. Most of her songs were very hopeful and uplifting in nature, since she performed with the intention of bolstering people’s spirits in mind. She was very much a philanthropic, passionate woman. 

Charlotte and Wilhelm were married and had a child, though Charlotte died under mysterious circumstances. Wilhelm’s still trying to figure out how she died but he fears that it’s because she was a prominent public figure but she was involved with Wilhelm, who was in turn involved in the criminal activity of the city. 

Despite being deceased, she still serves as a primary inspiration for Wilhelm. Her ideals are what motivated Wilhelm to do his line of work in the first place. It’s safe to say that she was his ���light’ in the midst of a such a bleak, dark world. I know the entire ‘deceased wife’ trope is overdone but look, I don’t care. 

Zizz

A relative of Charlotte’s, though I don’t really know what the exact relation is. Heck, maybe he’s just a close friend. He’s several years older than her, however, and was very protective of her. When she died, he was devastated and blamed Wilhelm for her death. He never liked Wilhelm to begin with, so this just gave him another reason to hate him. He’s very condescending and constantly belittles Wilhelm out of spite, all while reminding him of his failures. 

While he’s a manipulative bastard, Zizz does hate corruption as much as Wilhelm does. He’d be more willing to cooperate with Wilhelm if it weren’t for the fact that he hates Wilhelm. However, he does occasionally, very reluctantly, offer Wilhelm valuable leads and information. Of course, he’ll do it in a very condescending manner but he’ll swallow his pride, even for a moment, to ensure that Wilhelm does his job instead of wallowing in self-pity and self-loathing. 

Yuli

Wilhelm and Charlotte’s son, though he’s currently living with Zizz, who is more or less his guardian after Zizz pulled some strings (hue) to take custody of him from Wilhelm. Zizz loves him dearly, though he cannot stand the fact that he bears a strong resemblance to not only Charlotte, but Wilhelm. As such, Zizz often makes him wear a mask at home. 

He’s also a performer, as talented of a singer as his mother was. As such, he’s regarded as her successor and is well-liked by the audiences. However, because of his sheltered lifestyle, Yuli is only somewhat aware of the corruption in the city. Zizz would rather keep Yuli safe and out of harm’s way, since he believes that Charlotte met her demise because of her association with Wilhelm.

It doesn’t stop Yuli from being curious and wanting to look into it, however. He may be biting (hue) off more than he can chew… but even if he’s estranged from his father and was raised to loathe him, he’ll always be under Wilhelm’s watchful eye, even if he doesn’t realize this. 

Parado

Wilhelm’s assistant and best friend. A pleasant, easy-going fellow. He was very competent as Wilhelm’s assistant not only in detective work, but in many other fields and subjects in general. Had a bit of a gambling addiction, but he’d often go to gambling establishments with the purpose of exposing criminal activity while undercover. 

However, he was very much a risk-taker and had a lot of confidence in himself, perhaps a little too much, which ultimately led to his demise. 

Met a grisly death at the hands of unknown perpetrators but it was at least obvious that he had been killed by the very criminal organizations he sought to expose. His corpse was left (somewhat) intact as an subliminal warning but ended up going missing after a period of time.

Trifoli

Parado’s girlfriend, who works as a pharmacist. A very bitter individual, especially following Parado’s death. While she directs some of her anger and resentment towards Wilhelm, she cannot bring herself to blame him and assists him however way she can. One of the few people Wilhelm trusts and receives support from. 

However, Trifoli is paranoid that she’ll be targeted by the criminal organizations because of her practice with medicine and association with Parado and Wilhelm. She’s already had unfortunate run-ins with thugs who may or may not be affiliated with the crime families.

She won’t sit idly for any longer, however. She has a personal score to settle with the criminal organizations, beyond just exacting revenge for Parado’s death…

Rche

The next-in-line successor of one of the criminal families. Despite his age, he’s proven to be a competent, capable crime boss and quickly overtook his own parents in gaining recognition and notoriety. He’s very cruel and manipulative, enjoying his control over all sorts of criminal establishments in the city. He seeks to assert his dominance, ensuring that everything goes exactly as he plans. 

And because he has a very capable bodyguard (Saruis) and personal maid (Beridzebeth), he’s practically untouchable.

Furthermore, there’s been talk of an immortality elixir that Rche has shown great interest in…

[bestillandremember]

I am Israel.

May 13th, 2019

I’m a day late, and I have no British phrase of the week. Apologies to my readers. I hope all two of you will be able to extend some grace, as I have very good reasons. Sunday was sunny! That’s my only excuse actually. If you’ve spend any time in England though, you know a day of sunshine can’t go by unappreciated. So I was outside, soaking and breathing it all in. I wish I could describe the freedom this place brings, just by existing. The dichotomy found in hills that are so peaceful but also so alive. The unparalleled serenity in such open fields, with tiny flowers crowding the hills and fighting for rays of the frequently hidden sun. Lakes that move in the wind that picks up the sounds of birds and sheep, content in their routine of chirping and grazing.

I wish I could describe it in a way that would allow anyone reading to feel it. I wish I could take pictures that captured everything I was seeing so others could too. Sadly, most of the shots I take fall very short, as they often do in places this beautiful. I also wish I could convey the sheer massiveness of swans. I took a sharp left for one of the benches that border the lake here, only to find myself face to face with one of the most immense birds I’ve ever seen. They have two things that contribute to their size- height and width. These birds are tall. This one had to at least be 4 feet high and have a considerable amount of weight on it. No judgement, just saying I probably wouldn’t be able to carry it or take it on alone. Unlikely that I would ever need to, but these are the things you think about when you have one staring you down.

Disclaimer for the next part: I’m going to attempt to dive into my spiritual journey a little bit here. If you’re at all curious about how the Lord is speaking to me and how I am healing, read on! If not, I understand, but I am open to questions if you’re not familiar with a lot of the things I’m going to be sharing next. It’s complicated, and I don’t have nearly as much figured out as I would like to, so my answers may be biased or limited. This is also going pretty far back in time, and uncovering some pretty serious wounds. I am just one person, one opinion, and one experience. Everything will be subjective, and none of it is an absolute truth about people or ministry as a whole. But writing has always been a way of processing the constant overload of things in my brain and heart so- buckle up!  

I have spent half the day writing and rewriting this post. I went head first into the deep end, going back to high school hurt and forward to recent aches that still sting. It’s difficult to tell your story. Especially when God is peeling away layer after layer from the very beginning and showing you new things that are more than ten years in your past. I’ve seen a lot of hurt because of my own actions, and I’ve allowed a lot of hurt in my life at the hands of others. I’ve pursued people and the world so hard that I have lost sight of myself and the Lord in the process. Gaining that perspective is hard to put to words.

In the last week, in just regular conversation, I’ve been asked to re-examine two pieces of my past, and found I am seeing them with new eyes. I was asked about the loss of a friend in high school, Will Wardrip, and spoke to the difficulties of dealing with death at that age, especially in the wake of so many other things going on at the time. I gave almost a rehearsed explanation of an experience I felt far outside of now, and was hit with an emotional sledgehammer when I realized that I had probably one of the purest, most consistent friendships I have known because of this tragedy. A companionship I have not only taken for granted, but completely abused the last 10 years of having it. 

Today I was asked about my connection with Young Life and was made acutely aware of the bitterness and resentment I still hold towards many people in that organization, and maybe even the ministry as a whole. From volunteering as a leader in college, to Summer Staff and interning at Woodleaf, to working with Capernaum after college. A ministry I grew up in, a camp I adored and called home at one point, and a message I believed in- all abused by humans mistaking their opinion and perception for truth. A safe place near and dear to my heart, destroyed by straight up deceptive and deeply disturbed humans. Or worse, rigid and prejudiced people who weren’t able to look outside of themselves and do what we are called to do as Christians in and outside of ministry: love people for who they are, where they are at. A courtesy many people failed to extend to me during my time serving. Strong language, I know- but it’s my truth. 

I’ve shared other parts of my most recent past, and haven’t experienced this depth of emotion that I did with the last two examples. I’ve been trying to understand why these ancient hurts, some of which honestly feel petty at this point, are being unearthed and resurfacing. The only explanation I have is a new understanding. In the last four weeks, I’ve been looking at one of the most historically well preserved texts in great detail. Learning about the Dead Sea Scrolls and the 800+ copies that are quoted and referenced in the over 5,000 copies of the New Testament that all date mere centuries after the events were meant to have taken place. I’ve been learning about the translation of words, and the reliability and consistency of these documents as they point to the inspiration behind them.

All lead back to the same source: God. Just like my story. All my pain, every disappointment, every loss, every mistake and horrible choice I’ve made has brought me back to one person: Jesus. Deuteronomy, an Old Testament book I have underestimated and yawned at in the past, has become arguably one of the most important books in my life. Years ago, it painted an image of a God I couldn’t comprehend, much less relate to. He was a wrathful, even petty God who wanted it His way or the highway (or in this case, the wilderness). But what I didn’t understand at the time was that I was Israel. His chosen people, liberated and brought out of slavery, blinded by their own humanity and weakness. They were completely unable to see the provision and mercy gifted to them.

I’ve been wandering the wilderness for the last 10+ years, and I’ve walked through the doors opened for me with no awareness of who went before me. I’ve made my own choices, ignoring the voice inside of me warning me of the mistake I was making, and actively denied what I thought was just my conscience. I’ve been offered blessings that I’ve rejected outright and pursued every sinful inclination I could, rationalizing it along the way with good intention. Each time, I’ve hit the ‘woe is me’ stage of regret and wondered what I did to deserve such suffering. The veil that was lifted revealed something frustratingly simple- the Lord was not absent. I was not abandoned in my hurt. I chose not to see Him. I ran repeatedly from His presence and towards my own destruction, just like Israel. It was my fault.

Granted, thanks to Adam and Eve, I come by it honestly. But can I continue to blame my sinful nature if I’m aware of it? Because Deuteronomy 7:6 “The Lord your God has chosen you out of all the peoples on the face of the earth to be his people, his treasured possession.” God is still God whether I accept it or not. And His choice is not negated by my unwillingness to choose Him in return, and does not make Him any less intentionally present in my life. Just like my acknowledgement of my mother doesn’t change the fact that she gave birth to me. It comes down to the relationship, because in both cases, we are connected by blood. So my total acceptance of the Lord in every aspect of my life is the only way to see Him, not just here and now at Bible School, but in my past and in my future.

Since realizing that, I have felt the strongest release of weight, fear, and anxiety that years of therapy couldn’t even touch. I have been white knuckling my past, unable to let go of even the things I wanted so badly to escape, including and especially my part in it. Every day a new part of the years that have shaped me is excavated, brushed off, and examined through the lens of a persistent, faithful God and His Son who died to save me from wearing this banner of sin and shame where ever I go. Each time, the same conclusion is reached: it’s covered, and I am loved and chosen. Every day, He chooses and fights for me.

Anyone that knows me well, knows that last sentence is a big one for me. For years, I have been letting close people that have used, abused, and left me out to dry. Time after time, I give myself away hoping it will be an exchange, or at least reciprocated, instead of a “Finders Keepers” situation. Instead, I have been told I was a waste of time, or I was not the right fit (both actual verbatim quotes).  In the wake of my mistake, caught up in my brokenness, I would make the same request: That someone I loved would choose me. Just once, so I could know what it felt like to be hand-picked and selected above the rest. I’ve been kicking myself since I read Deuteronomy 7:6 and discovering that while I was running away, He was patiently waiting. Reminding me in ways I refused to say that I was His treasured possession, and that He chooses me daily.

I’m still processing things. Considering there’s a decade of work to be done, I don’t suspect that I will ever “arrive” as future events tend to build upon the past. I suppose that’s the point of a relationship though, walking beside someone through every season in life. I’m excited to break down the walls that have kept me from seeing and experiencing the love of my Father in my life. If I was blind to most obvious evidence of God in my life, who knows what else I missed? I know the road won’t be straight or easy, and I’m nowhere close to complete even in the aftermath of Jesus’ sacrifice. But He is all and is in all, and I am grateful for that. And for endless second chances to return to the only safe place I’ll never see destroyed.

[kuriquinn]

Underneath the Underneath [1/?]

Summary: As observant as he is, it take Kakashi years before he realises he's in an actual, adult relationship.

Disclaimer: This story utilizes characters, situations and premises that are copyright Masashi Kishimoto, Shueisha, Shonen Jump and Viz Media. No infringement on their respective copyrights pertaining to episodes, novelizations, comics or short stories is intended by the author in any way, shape or form. This fan oriented story is written solely for the author's own amusement and the entertainment of the readers. It is not for profit. Any resemblance to real organizations, institutions, products or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All fiction, plot and Original Characters with the exception of those introduced in the books, manga, video games, novelizations and anime, are the sole creation of KuriQuinn and using them without permission is considered rude, in bad-taste and will reflect seriously on your credibility as a writer. You will be forced to juggle geese until you drop dead should you be found plagiarizing.

Warning: Spoilers for pretty much everything up to Chapter 699.

Canon-Compliance: As close to canon as fanfiction can possibly be. With a few personal additions :P Takes place during Part I, Part II and the Blank Period.

Fanon-Compliance: Takes place several years before An Inch of Gold and Unplanned.

AN: OC alert! There is an OC in this story! Ohmygosh! Okay, so I have had a lot of interest in my OC, Manako, over the past little while, and I got a few requests here, on AO3 and on tumblr to start showing her relationship with Kakashi a little more. I had been meaning to wait until once I finished with all my SasuSaku headcanon stuff, but then I thought, why not write it now? Kakashi and Manako's relationship happens entirely off-screen so as not to interfere or impose on the canon, so I can write a few pieces every now and then for those of you who are curious. I hope you enjoy!

Author’s Note2: In case anyone was not aware of this (and I’ve mentioned it several times), Kakashi and Manako are about 9-10 years apart in age. They meet several years before the Naruto series begins and slowly build a friendship. Despite the fact that this is a universe with different age appropriate behaviours and expectations than our own (for crying out loud, they have twelve year old kids fight to the death and massacre their families), and that for the vast majority of human history age differences and relationships at younger ages have always exists, with or without consent, I have gone out of my way to ensure that nothing physical or intimate happens between the two until Manako is 18 years old (legal voting age in Japan, in many place in Japan, legal age of consent as per Tokyo’s Youth Protection Law). There has been an ongoing trend across many fandoms lately to demonize any relationship with a large age-gap or where one partner is a teenager on the cusp of being legal. Interestingly enough, these same people have no problem with a 17-year-old girl being stalked by a 100-year-old vampire just because he looks like a 17-year-old boy. Go figure.

In laymen’s terms, if you’re one of those holier-than-thou, morality-police, purity-wank douchenozzles that think authors should censor their work to protect your delicate sensibilities from being exposed to stuff that happens in real life…kindly step out of my section of the sandbox and go play elsewhere.

This is the politest I get about it.

“Ah! Kakashi, my venerable rival!” Maito Gai declares with his usual pomp, pointing one finger straight in front of him, while his other hand remains hidden behind his back. “Today is the day when we settle our longstanding, noble contest!”

Kakashi raises his single visible eyebrow at the digit two inches from his nose. “Is that so?”

“Yes! You see, as I was enjoying my balanced and revitalising morning repast, I heard a foreigner mention a competition from their land! The honourable and youthful pursuit of juggling geese!”

From behind his back, Gai produces a tiny gosling that blinks up at Kakashi and honks in puzzlement.

Kakashi returns that blink. Behind him, he hears Kurenai and Asuma stifle chuckles.

“That’s a goose,” he says eventually.

“Well-spotted, you keen-eyed animal, you!”

Kakashi counts to three in his head, and then points out in as reasonable a voice as he can manage, “Isn’t juggling geese a little cruel?”

“Nonsense! Our Konoha poultry is the hardiest of the land!”

That’s not what I…what even…?

There are so many logical, well-thought out arguments against this, and yet Kakashi knows from experience none of them will suffice. And so, he pounces on Gai’s ridiculousness in the hopes he can dissuade him for once.

“If the purpose is to juggle geese, shouldn’t there be more than one?”

Gai’s elated expressions holds for several seconds longer, and then his shoulders slump and he glares into the distance.

“Damn you, Kakashi, with your cool logic!”

Well, that was a narrowly avoided spot of—

“Fear not! I will return with a gaggle of goslings for us to test our juggling acumen!”

And he speeds off, leaving Kakashi holding the goose.

“Well…” Asuma begins.

“That’s certainly an interesting way to begin the morning,” Kurenai adds.

Gai hurries back, snatches the confused bird, and disappears again. Kurenai shakes her head. “Is it just me or does he get more high-spirited every day?”

“It’s not just you,” Asuma assures her. “The man could tire out the gods…”

Kakashi sighs and glances at the sky; the sun isn’t even at its zenith yet.

This is not how his routine is supposed to go.

Not that he ever consciously planned to have something as mundane as a routine. As a general rule, shinobi avoid having those, being that they are trained to expect the unexpected. However, over the years since he moved up the ranks in Konoha, a certain procedure has emerged nonetheless.

Every morning he rises before dawn and visits the cemetery, standing before the Memorial Stone to pay respect to his fallen comrades. Depending on his mood he may simply spare them a few words, or perhaps he’ll spend an hour or two in silent remembrance of Obito, Rin and Minato-sensei. Afterward, he heads to Hokage Tower to see if there’s anything Lord Third intends him to do.

It’s been almost a year since the Hokage removed him from active duty with ANBU, as well as mandatory therapy and instruction to readapt his teaching methods for genin. Eventually he will be assigned his first genin squad, but for now he’s simply on the village duty roster. Still, the missions Lord Third assigns him are always for the best of the village.

In any case, he has a lot more recreational time than he ever did before. Privately he thinks the old man is hoping he’ll use these newfound free periods to socialise more, but at this point in his life, Kakashi isn’t keen on seeking out friendship. As a child he didn’t like the idea of mingling with other people, and as an adult he is even more socially hesitant.

It’s not exactly easy to make friends when every person you’ve ever cared about died and everyone else holds you responsible for it.

Still, in spite of his reluctance, he has forged some connections within the village.

First and foremost, there’s Gai, whose presence in his life was insisted upon by their respective fathers. By now, the taijutsu master is so much of a habit for Kakashi that he’s not quite sure what he’d do without him. No day is complete without one of Gai’s ridiculous competitions, though Kakashi tries to avoid them until the evening for simple conservation of energy. 

In the past few years, he’s also found himself in the company of Asuma more and more often. Kakashi is pretty sure the man has been ordered by his father to keep an eye on him, which would be annoying if Asuma were less interesting. The Hokage’s son is well-learned and well-travelled, and his stories fill the silences that would otherwise be awkward.

Then there’s Kurenai, who goes wherever Asuma does these days, and Yugao. She’s the only one of his former ANBU squad that he speaks to with anything resembling regularity, if only because she’s been going on fewer mission since she and Hayate started spending more time together. Tenzō, when he isn’t off on missions, will invite Kakashi for a drink or a meal (and then they both spend the evening trying to nonchalantly trick the other into paying for it).

He tries not to think of Itachi Uchiha at all.

“Are you actually going to juggle geese?” Kurenai asks, her mouth quirking upwards at Kakashi.

Asuma chuckles again. “That sounds like it would be messy…”

“Maybe I’ll be assigned a mission and be able to avoid him,” Kakashi groans.

“I don’t know – it looks like he’s coming back,” Kurenai points out, staring out into the distance.

Kakashi doesn’t need to be told twice.

Without really looking, he dives through the door of the nearest shop, just in time to avoid Gai’s triumphant return – now balancing half a dozen geese in his arms.

Peeking through the corner of the nearby window, he watches as Gai—upon realising Kakashi is nowhere to be found—begins to demonstrate exactly how one juggles geese to a bemused Kurenai and Asuma.

Kakashi sighs and slumps down, pressing his head against the wall. It’s going to be a while before he can slip away. Maybe there’s a back entrance somewhere—

“Unless you’re looking for a way to blow shit up, you shouldn’t be here,” a bored voice says from somewhere behind him. “My boss doesn’t like loitering.”

Kakashi looks up, noticing in the process that his chosen hide-out is one of the many surplus and supply stores in the village. The smell of ink, paper and gunpowder fill the air, and when he takes notices of the walls he sees row upon row of specialty parchment—the kind for explosive tags. He glances across the sales floor, for the first time taking note of the girl reading a book behind the check-out counter. She’s familiar to him, although in the second-hand kind of way that everyone in a small village is familiar, so it only takes a moment to place her.

Twins are rare in such a small village, and Manako Inuzuka is identical to her sister Hana. Brunette and dark eyed, with a solid-looking medium frame and a languid, unselfconscious bearing he doesn’t see in a lot of girls her age. She lacks the distinctive Inuzuka facial markings, which is odd considering she’s the child of the leader, but somehow she manages to look just as fierce.

Kakashi occasionally has business with Hana—sometimes his ninja hounds require urgent medical care, and she’s set to take over the village’s veterinary practice—but he has never spoken to Manako beyond a few random, forgettable encounters. He doesn’t expect this one to be any different.

Except, then his attention falls on the book she’s reading.

The book which happens to be the next installment of his favourite series.

The one he has been desperately waiting on for the last six months.

“That’s the latest Icha Icha novel,” he says.

“It is.”

“It’s not even supposed to be out for another month.”

“And yet, here it is,” Manako replies, turning a page.

“How did you get your hands on this?”

“I know a guy.”

He begins to approach the counter. “Can I know a guy?”

“That depends—are you into bondage?”

Kakashi does a bit of a double-take at this, opening his mouth and then closing it again as he studies her. She and Hana were in Itachi’s year, which means she can’t be more than fifteen or sixteen years old.

She has to be messing with him.

Even so, he���s not entirely sure what to say to that.  At his silence, she finally looks up, considering him with a critical eye.

“Oh. You’re him,” she says, and Kakashi waits for the usual qualifier—he knows the things people whisper about him: cold-blooded, friend-killer, traitor’s son. But then she adds, “You’re Pakkun’s pet.”

“Pet?” he echoes, surprised and disbelieving.

“Sorry. That’s how the dogs talk,” she says, though she doesn’t sound or look very sorry, turning her attention back to her book in a clear dismissal. “I mean to say you’re his human.”

He’s not sure that’s much better and gets the sense that she’s mocking him.

“Your sister is a lot more polite than you,” he says, which sounds immature and over-simplistic, but he’s still a bit caught off balance and doesn’t know what else to say.

She doesn’t seem ruffled by the comparison at all.

“So I’m told.”

Again, her words drip with dismissal, and Kakashi is inclined to take the hint. He turns back toward the shop entrance.

Except –

He turns around. “Out of curiosity—”

“No.”

He frowns. “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”

“You’re not getting my book.”

“I’d pay you for it.”

“But then it would not longer be my book,” she says, and then glances up, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “I’m possessive and materialistic like that.”

Kakashi resists the urge to pout, but only because he is a grown-ass man and a jōnin and feared by half the shinobi world.

“Surely there’s some arrangement we can come to?” he suggests, trying to sound smooth and casual and not like a slavering fanboy.

“You’re that desperate for cheesy romance and long drawn-out sex?” she raises an eyebrow at him, and he feels his cheeks warm beneath his mask because does she have to be that blunt about it?!

“Well what’s your excuse for reading it?”

“I have two X-chromosomes,” she retorts, and then crosses her arms. “And didn’t you hear? Long. Drawn-out. Sex.”

His cheeks flooding with even more colour.

“Should you really be reading that sort of thing?” he asks, a little tightly. “It’s not exactly…”

“Oh, but if it was a teenaged boy it would be alright?” she counters. “Talk about double standards…”

“I never said—”

“I have just as much right to read it as you,” she shoots back. “And if you think about it, it’s kind of creepier when it’s an old guy like you doing it.”

“…Old?”  Kakashi demands, voice cracking a little in astonishment.

“Well, with that hair of yours,” she shrugs. “Easy mistake to make.” He stares at her in reply, and she smirks. “See? It’s not nice to generalize about someone’s age.”

Kakashi decide right then that it’s time to leave.

Juggling geese is suddenly a much less challenging prospect than any more absurdist conversation with this…person. He doesn’t even ask about the back entrance, and is almost on the point of opening the door again when—

“I guess I could make you a deal.”

Kakashi pauses, the sudden image of himself reading his beloved, long-book at the end of a tiring day. It’s been so long…

“I’m listening,” Kakashi says, turning back.

“I need someone to field-test my specialty explosive tags,” she tells him. “But Old Man Third won’t let me hire a genin squad. Something about legal issues or child protection or whatever.” She makes a dismissive hand gesture. “None of the chūnin are allowed to, either, ever since the last time some moron didn’t read the labels and blew off a testicle.” Kakashi’s cheeks rapidly lose all earlier warmth. “And most jōnin are pretentious pricks that think their missions are more important than functioning equipment, so...”

Kakashi’s eye twitches. “Noted.”

“But I’ve heard you’re moderately intelligent, and apparently, you’re fast too, so here’s what I want—you come by every so often and try out my specialty tags, then come give me feedback, and I’ll hook you up with this book.” Kakashi is about to say that seems like an awful lot of work for one book, and then she adds, “And any others that my contact sets me up with.”

“You’re making literature seem a lot more clandestine than it is,” he accuses.

“Not all of us are elite ninjas. Some of us have to make our fun where we can,” she replies. “Are you in or out?”

Kakashi turns the offer over in his head.

The whole thing sounds an awful lot like responsibility, or even worse, accountability, and unless the well-being of the village is at stake, he tends to avoid both.

However, on the other hand, he’s heard from others that Manako’s incendiary devices are top quality, and that she doesn’t limit her work to simple explosives. Which could prove useful in situations where he doesn’t feel like expending effort.

And he really wants to read the book.

It’s telling that the only considerations he have pertain to his own laziness and guilty reading pleasures.

“Alright, it’s a deal,” he says.

“Good,” she agrees, nodding in a businesslike fashion. “But you’re still waiting until after I finish reading it.”

Which causes Kakashi’s shoulders to slump because how did he not see that coming. He can predict the moves of enemy ninja before they even consider making them, and this girl outmaneuvered him with a single sentence.

She smirks at him, black eyes dancing. “Of course, if I didn’t have to cut my break short lugging boxes around and doing actual work, I could probably finish this in the next hour…”

He shoots her an unimpressed look.

“Do you actually think I’m that desperate?”

“I think you just promised to carry out potentially dangerous field testing that could possible get you blown up just to get a chance to read the book. Damn straight I think you’re desperate,” she declares, black eyes dancing. “So either you’re really bored with your life, or really weird.”

She looks him over again, and he gets the sense that this time she is actually studying him, because her eyes linger on his mask.

“Weird,” she concludes, and nods to herself. “Which is good. We’ll be friends.” She then closes the book, holding the place with one finger and pokes another in his face. “But no sex, okay? I don’t want to deal with sad puppy-dog eyes when I break your heart.”

He can’t help his jaw dropping at either implication.

“Now get to work. There are crates of blank scrolls in the back that need to be stocked up here,” she says, going back to her reading. “And if you don’t do a good job, I’m calling out spoilers.”

Which is how Kakashi Hatake, elite jōnin of the Hidden Leaf, finds himself stocking shelves for the next two hours, wondering what exactly he has gotten himself into.

つづく

I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Comments and constructive criticism are much appreciated, and very motivating—and if you enjoy my writing, check out my original stories as they are posted on patreon!

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