#and i think there might have been one or two above fuchsia?

[thatlittledandere]

Man I dreamt I was Mickey Mouse trying to deliver Minnie something she forgot home while leaving for a friend's party, but when I got to the event venue it turned out to be this HUGE multi-storied building, like, the floor area was probably measured in kilometers, and it functioned as basically an authoritarian micronation with a strict, color-based social caste system. The most common way to identify someone's current standing was by wristbands or watches; upon entering I was given a white one, the lowest of them all and the only one permitted to visitors.

I had never even heard of this THING before and tried my hardest to piece together the laws and rules from the fragments of context clues I got from trying to talk to people, all the while also trying to hide the fact that I wasn't one of them (my initial entering caused quite a stir and I got the idea that turning up uninvited was frowned upon, to put it lightly.) For example I quickly learned that, while the biggest in numbers, white was technically below the ranking altogether, and its holders didn't enjoy the same rights as even the lowest of the castes. Whites were like interns to the society; they had to prove their piety to and knowledge of the customs before being fully admitted as citizens.

Minnie had left house carrying a purple hood so I assumed that to be her color, but when she eventually found me, it turned out to be fuchsia instead. And fuchsia was one of the higher castes, if not the highest. She told everyone in the room I was with her, and we started making our way to more private quarters somewhere in the upper floors. The floorplan was ridiculously convoluted; we passed SO many staircases, hallways, elevators, doors, and escalators. Minnie tried to catch me up to speed with what it was all about; turns out the community had been there functioning for over ten years, unknown to the outside world, most of its inhabitants living there full time in its many living quarters. The ones like Minnie who had a life in the outside too lived a double life, keeping the house a secret. The community was almost religious in how its residents treated it; it was basically a theocracy. I kept asking Minnie to please list the ranking order of the colors, as everything seemed to revolve around which caste you were, but she always had something that in her mind was more important to teach

Then we got separated. We had been moving in pairs in a group of about ten to be less conspicuous, and I couldn't see Minnie all the time with all the apparent hurry we were in. So when some of the people in the group started stuffing themselves into an elevator, I wasn't facing Minnie but figured that's where we were going. That was not where we were going. She didn't enter the elevator, having also lost sight of me. But the elevator took us back to the lobby we started from, so I started following our pervious footsteps to the best of my memory. Every time someone stopped or acknowledged me I told them I was a fuchsia's servant and had been summoned by her and had to get to the upper floors posthaste. I had no idea if higher ranks having personal servants in the lower ones was a thing, but people did let me through.

We also stopped being Mickie and Minnie Mouse at some point. You know how dreams go.

I found out the wristbands weren't the only way to express one's color; anything that stood out enough to serve the function was a go. At some point I stepped into an elevator only to come face-to-face with my brother, from real life, who was indigo, and it was apparent from the accents in his otherwise black outfit. I was happy to see a familiar face, even though I knew he was NOT thrilled to see me lol, and would absolutely not help me on my quest. He would much prefer not to be associated with an outsider. And as Minnie, who was no longer Minnie but just a nondescript friend I was looking for, hadn't explained the caste order to me, I didn't know where dark blue stood. But from the way he carried himself and how the other guy in the elevator reacted to him, I deduced it must have been closer to top than bottom, at least.

Another thing was that these color assignments CHANGED. They were frequently reshuffled, and you had to figure out a way to quickly switch to displaying your new color, and adjust to your new social standing in your behavior and relationships. When I finally found my friend, she had switched to green by quickly dying her hair with spray dye. As she was now one of the lower classes, she conducted herself with a certain shyness and shame, posture hunched and eyes withdrawn.

She showed me to a lounge for people of various lower castes, where I found another nondescript friend who is not a real person that I know, and two who are and who I've known since childhood but haven't been in touch with in YEARS. Talk about a happy reunion! We got to talking, some about this place and its culture, some just regular chitchat.

And that's when I brought Homestuck into it by mentioning there's a webcomic I read that also has a color-based caste system. One of my childhood friends was delighted to hear there was something else with a similar system. I used a word for the system that I don't think really exists; the other childhood friend thought it was too long and difficult to pronounce. So I suggested "How about hemospectrum instead? That one is shorter and easier to say." I note that the Finnish word would be hemospektri, which is shorter by one letter! Yahoo! My friend was pleased. I woke up happy to no longer be stuck in Hotel California for discount homestucks.

[pastabaguette]

sorry for all the posts today, but this one is very important: alternian video game edits.

i actually have reasonings for all of their blood types, and a few classpects, so i'll dive into them here:

monika: i'm thinking that early in the game, during acts 1 and 2, she maybe masqueraded as a jadeblood or higher. only during act 3 does she reveal herself as a fuchsia to the protagonist.

gordon and alyx: gordon is probably a tealblood, or somewhere around there. fairly high, but not too high, i think. alyx is an olive, and eli is an indigo. azian was probably a gold. (or lime?) i did have to keep gordon’s orange HEV suit, though. surely you understand. okay, troll half life lore: i think on alternia, all the main characters in the half life franchise are like, olive or above. the rebels in follow freeman and the guards are all lowbloods, so that the player doesn't feel too bad about sacrificing them, or something like that. i think this would be something that would happen in an alternian video game, at least.

agent 47: 47 is actually a mutant, due to being manufactured in a lab. he's a weird ice-blue color. he's still got that piercing stare. i felt a little sad changing his iconic red tie, but i do have some thoughts on that as well. obviously, red in human culture tends to symbolize passion, among other things, and in this case, violence and aggression, because it's the color of blood. however, because trolls all have different blood colors, i think they might have different meanings attached to colors than humans typically do. i think that typically, the colors that would most commonly represent aggression in alternian culture would be blue (cobalt and indigo) and purple. now, i know that the sea dwellers exist, but since the vast majority of trolls are lowbloods, they would have a lot more contact with the land-dwelling highbloods, rather than the fish. so, 47’s tie is blue. (i also just think it looks cool matching his eyes)

chell: I made chell a bronzeblood. she’s a test subject, but not one of the special ones (astronauts, olympians, etc). she’s just another lab rat. (also, a lot of her outfit is orange…)

now for classpects! i only have two i’m sure of as of now:

gordon freeman is an heir of hope. this one is fairly obvious to me. a common belief is that heirs have the ability to become their aspect, in a way. in half life 2, gordon quickly becomes the main symbol of the resistance on earth. for the rebels, he himself IS hope.

agent 47 is a prince of life. again, it’s a common interpretation that princes are themselves void of their aspect, and they destroy that aspect in others. this is really literal, obviously, but as a hitman, 47 kills people. literally destroying life. as for his own lack of life in himself, it’s pretty simple as well. 47 is almost always described as entirely void of emotion and empathy. others often remark on his soulless stare, a lack of life behind his eyes. so, as a prince, he fulfills both criteria there.

holy hell, that was a lot of words. i didn’t intend to talk this much. feel free to add your own thoughts; i’d like to hear what others think. these descriptions were a bit rushed, and i don’t really consider myself to be very good at communicating my thoughts, so a lot of things may have been lost in translation. i’d be happy to try and elaborate on my reasonings for any of them.

(oh, also, please no alyx spoilers. i haven’t played it yet!)

[rewh0re]

THE SOULMATE THEORY ; MIKAGE REO

- wc: 1.1k, aged up characters (like 19-20) doesn't dive into explicit/hardcore smut but is definitely suggestive in some parts so I'd say readers 16 and above may read this, indirect mentions of sexual activities, fluff, reader is called a minx (affectionate), a little bit of that one old greek myth about soulmates, it's true that once you use em dash you can't stop.

a/n: literally got the idea at the doctor's office don't even. REBLOGS + FEEDBACKS ARE APPRECIATED!! also tagging: @chigirizzz (this is that one reo fic I was telling you about where you asked me to tag you)

The room was dark. The only source of light—though bright but not enough to light up the whole room—was from the digital clock on the bedside table. '12:42,’ it read in bright neon red numbers. It was also quiet, so much so that two pairs of steady breathings could be heard.

One belonged to Reo and the other, to you.

"Are you asleep?" You whisper—soft and delicate—careful as to not wake your lover up if he indeed was asleep but loud enough to let him know of your own sleepless state.

Your eyes have been long adjusted to the darkness and you can make out the silhouette of his face. The length of his nose and his eyelashes, the slight part of his lush lips, his sharp and angular jaw—truly—he was majestic.

"No," his eyes fluttered open and his lips turned upward. His smile, the gentleness of which never failed to make your heart beat ten times faster, which never failed to make your stomach feel all giddy with the butterflies that erupted.

"I was thinking about your face from earlier and the various sounds you made too actually. Sweet as honey to me but I'm afraid Mrs. Tanaka might complain come morning," gentle tone was overruled by mischief. That was Mikage Reo, a gem of a person for a second and a force to be reckoned with the next.

"Please don't oh my god," you covered your face—now tinted with embarrassment—with the comforter you and Reo shared as you whined in protest.

The activities from an hour back rushing into your brain, playing like a movie sequence. As foggy as your mind was earlier, you were surprised that you remembered everything so vividly. You could still feel his rough, calloused and much larger hands tracing every curve of your body as if to memorise its shape. You could feel the lingering kisses on your neck, your shoulder, your chest, the now purple marks left with pride. You would have to cover them before work in the morning. You could hear your own sounds of pleasure and his groans as if to say more, more, more. You could feel it all. You could feel him. Your face flushed a deeper shade of fuchsia as you gulped, trying to get the images out of your head.

"You act like we haven't done this a million times before my love," he laughed slowly, bringing a hand to cover his mouth.

"Come on, look at me. Don't shy away now," he pulled the blanket off of you, removing your hands from your face as he hugged you.

"You're incorrigible, you know that right?" You huffed out in faux annoyance, snuggling against his chest, his arms a veil for your figure.

He laughed then, a laugh full of mischief and adoration and something akin to acknowledgement for your previous statement.

You laid like that, in silence. There was peace that came with the soft lub-dub of your synchronised heartbeats and your gentle breaths.

You were the one to break it first.

"Have you ever heard about that one Greek mythology? about soulmates?" You spoke, your cool fingers tracing gentle and soothing shapes on Reo's bare back which was painted with scratches from your nails.

"Can't say I have. Care to tell me?" He looked for your eyes as he pulled up the slipping comforter before pulling you closer to his chest. His warmth engulfed you whole, a comfortable shield from the much cooler surroundings.

"Well there is this theory," you started, face softening into affection as you laid against Reo's—albeit hard—but comfortable chest.

"It says that when Zeus created humans, he originally created them with two of everything. So two heads, two pairs of both the limbs, you get it. Their souls were one too. Fearing the power that these humans could possess, Zeus split them, including their souls, in half and scattered them around the world. The humans—as we now know them to be—would search far and wide, across oceans and lands to look for their other half. It is said that this other half is your soulmate and you search for them throughout your life," you smiled as you looked up at him, engrossed in your little story.

"Well that's just cruel of Zeus now, isn't it? I mean, what if someone doesn't find their soulmate?" Reo pouted and that made you chuckle a little.

"Maybe. Maybe not. It is just a story at the end of the day and how you decide to perceive a story totally depends on you," you jabbed his chest with your finger.

"I think I've found my other half," he stated with pride.

"Oh? Is that so? I wonder who it could be," you made a face as if you were thinking, tapping your chin with your forefinger.

"Oh I bet you do," in an instant your boyfriend was hugging you tighter than ever, his face buried in the crook between your neck and your shoulder.

His soft kisses were ticklish and they made you giggle. Your fingers further messed up his already tousled hair.

"You want me to say it out loud so bad don't you, you little minx," he whispered in your neck as you hummed in response.

"I think I've found my soulmate in you."

"I also think I've found mine in you Reo," your gentle voice was like ambrosia to his ears. He could drown in it, a bit was never enough.

He trailed kisses down the side of your face, starting from your ear, going down your jaw and finally a little bite on your neck. He licked on it in order to soothe the area. A new addition to the marks he had left earlier.

"Ow Reo!" You playfully smacked his head which forced him to separate from your neck.

"I already have enough marks to cover!" You puffed your cheek, barely hiding the smile that was begging to come up to the surface.

"You'll beg for them again tomorrow," he winked at you.

You could only roll your eyes. What would you even say? Deep in your heart, even you knew that he was right. "What is wrong with you?"

"Just that I'm irrevocably in love with you," he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, shutting his eyes.

"Unfortunately, I happen to love you too."

Teasing glances from your coworkers and friends due to the remnants from the events of the night would be a concern for later. For now, sleep would come easy to you because here you were, with Reo, in his arms. He was your safe haven and you were his and truly, whatever in the world could ever change that?

[pixelwisp-archive]

Itadakimasu!! | Part 2: Try harder, Paradis (Written Portion Included)

 Your brows furrowed - a small, nearly unnoticeable pout settled on your face as your index finger hovered over the reply button. You were hunched over the counter as your fingers danced across the keyboard, various snarky responses fluttering onto the screen only to be immediately redacted, another comment snippier than the last taking its place. At one point you got fed up and decidedly wrote ‘Fuck you Miya’, and to your horror almost clicked ‘reply’ before your reflexes caught you and quickly tapped on the ‘cancel’ button instead. A familiar ring sounded through the bakery at the arrival of a new patron, tearing your eyes away from the current dilemma as you shoved the phone into your back pocket, a smile as bright as sunshine replacing your recently sour features. It was decided then that you would deal with it later, maybe with some of Tendou’s or Lev’s help. They were good at being bitchy when they needed to.

Try harder, Paradis.

The comment burned itself into the back of your memory the rest of the day as you sat on how best to reply, and truthfully, you still had no idea. In reality, you knew next to nothing about this business. You were aware that they were located in Osaka, thanks to their twitter profile. You also knew that it was run by Atsumu Miya’s brother, who’s name escaped your memory and you’re far too petty lazy to bother googling it - and that for some reason, they’ve decided that Paradis would be their target practice for their criticism and holier than thou attitude. It was easy to assume the attention came from Atsumu Miya’s shout out after their visit a couple days ago, but why they’ve taken it so personally, you probably would never know.

Regardless, you couldn’t deny that the attention you’ve gotten from your little spats between the two business was nice - you and Tendou had been talking about wanting to expand and open up more locations in other prefectures (Tendou grins as his hands gesture dramatically. “No no, Y/n, think bigger, like Paris”), but the process of saving up ended up being slower than you two had anticipated. It wasn’t like you guys weren’t making a profit or anything - you had quite a few regulars and had a growing list of clientele that chose your bakery as their supplier for their restaurants, events, etc. But living was expensive; between the business expenses, rent, food, and bills, you had to admit less than you would have liked ended up taking residence in the cleaned out pickle jar that was tucked away under the kitchen sink - the one Tendou insisted on using because ‘with cash, it feels more real’, and had Tendou’s messy scrawl in bright fuchsia ink, ‘Paris’, across a crooked streak of duct tape that had been clumsily torn from the roll. A smile tugged at your lips at the thought of someday being able to take Satori to Paris like he’d always wanted. 

“Paradis, I’m home. You in?”

“In the living room,” you called back, looking back down at the tweet you had been once again staring at for too long a time.

“You would not believe what Ushiwaka texted me today, he- uh, you good?” 

You snapped your attention up at him and blinked at the defensive posture he held. “You look like you’re gonna set something on fire. I support you, of course, but I gotta hear the tea before we get the Kerosene.” A laugh emitted from you then, loud and boisterous, your head thrown back against the couch cushion. 

“Sorry, it’s this stupid Onigiri shop,” you explained as you showed him your phone with a sigh. Tendou squinted at the text, then leaned back with a grin. “ What’s wrong? I kinda like them, they’re snarky.” 

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t mind a little harmless twitter beef, but I almost feel like while I’m trying to keep it light and airy, this guy seems like he’s ready to go for the jugular.” The bitter taste left in your mouth at the mere mention of him made you scrunch your nose, lips puffed out slightly. Tendou must have taken note of the pout because he sighed and climbed onto the couch cushion you were leaning up against. Long, nimble fingers found their way into your hair as he hummed to himself. “Well,” he began, the mischievous lilt to his voice not going unnoticed by you.

“I have some news, but I don’t know how well you’re gonna take it.”

Prev | Masterlist | Next

Fun Facts - 

Whenever Kita tweets from the account, he uses the little Onigiri emoji to finish off all his tweets. He’s cute like that.

While Osamu does use emoji’s from time to time, he is partial to the :) because it just exudes bitch energy and he’s into that.

While Atsumu’s “pull your head outta your ass” might not have seemed very friendly - he knows its what Osamu needs, and frankly, wants to hear. Twin thing, you know?

You and Tendo live together, have since you were 17. You guys are platonic soulmates

One of your core memories with Ten was when you were both drunk in your apartment, and Tendou had insisted on a French accent for the better part of two hours because it was always a fool proof way to make you laugh, especially when you’re borderline shitfaced. When you were in the kitchen opening up another bottle of wine, you heard Tendou summon you in a sing song, slurred voice “Oh Paradis~” and for some reason, it stuck and suddenly Tendou calling you Paradis was second nature to you guys. So when you guys had finally made enough to open up your own store and had to come up with a name, Paradis just felt right.

A/n: Another chapter done!! I went back and forth between whether I wanted to add a written portion to this chapter or not, and ultimately settled on the little snippet above - I really just wanted to open the door back over to Paradis so we can get a little more of my favorite little bakery, as well as dive into Y/n and Tendou’s relationship! As always, I hope you guys enjoy, and feel free to reach out if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

Taglist -

@larkspyrr @oikawaandkuroostan @fucktheworlddude @doctorspencereid​ @keiarma @cherriechurros

[five-rivers]

Interview With a Ghost (part 3: Break)

(PART 1) (PART 2)

.

.

.

The call came shortly after Danny had informed Tucker of his (disastrous) interview with the police and had left to go fight a giant bird ghost that had made its way to Elmerton. That bird wouldn't know what hit it. Well, it would know that Danny hit it, presumably, but not that Danny was hitting it so hard due to repressed anxiety regarding his body and the fact the police had it.

Tucker had been, as it so happened, waiting for the call.

"Hey, Sam," he said, not bothering to so much as look at the caller ID.

"So, Danny's gotten himself into a mess."

"Yep," said Tucker. "A pretty big one. Not all his fault, though."

"He did make it worse."

"Yeah. What are we going to do about it?"

"How do you feel about breaking and entering?"

"You're going to have to be more specific," said Tucker. He rolled over on his bed to stare at the ceiling. "We do that pretty frequently."

"The city morgue. ME's office, specifically."

"There'll be guards," said Tucker, "what with the rumors and all."

"I've got the Box Ghost in my thermos. He's a good distraction."

"Transport?"

"Working on it. You'll take care of the security cameras and locks?"

"As long as they're digital," said Tucker, pulling up his data on the city cameras as they spoke. "The outside ones are, but I don't know about the insides. There might be analog machines in there. Tapes. Can't do anything to anything not on a network."

"I know, I know. Hey, maybe you could send a text to whoever's supposed to be guarding it tonight? Get them to leave?"

"Mmm. Maybe. If I could figure out who that would be."

"That could backfire, though," said Sam. "If they don't send messages like that. Sorry, I'm just thinking out loud."

Tucker pulled up a building map in another window. "I think we'll probably need more than just us, though. Remember the first time we had to move... it?"

"Yeah, but who else are we going to get to do this?"

"Jazz, maybe? She has a car, too. She can be transportation."

"Tucker, we're not looping Danny in on this. Do you really think that Jazz is going to be any more cool with this than Danny?"

"I don't know, Jazz can be pretty savage when it comes to protecting Danny."

The phone made Sam's considering hum crackle with static. "We do need transport," said Sam.

"Yeah. What were you looking into for that, anyway?"

"Ugh. Cult connections."

"Dude. Danny would not be happy if we gave his you know to a cult."

"Yeah, but he can steal it back from the cult with no guilt, unlike with the police."

"But what if he just gave it back to the police?" asked Tucker, looking up the city's purchasing records, trying to determine if they had any cameras that used tapes or that weren't internet connected in or near the morgue.

"Come on, he wouldn't do that."

"Probably not, but he does do weird stuff, sometimes. Like agree to an interview with the police and almost give away his secret identity."

"Yeah," said Sam. "You keep checking how feasible this is, and I'll call Jazz, okay?"

"Sure," said Tucker. "Talk to you later."

.

Jazz eased her car into the alley behind the building that housed the city morgue and ME's office.

"Stop here," said Tucker. "I can see their network."

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Jazz whispered, putting the car into park.

"You don't have to whisper," said Tucker, sitting in the passenger's seat and typing away at his mobile workstation (he insisted that it wasn't a laptop). "No one is going to hear you. Okay, yeah, I'm on their wifi. Give me a minute."

"Take your time," said Sam, who was lying down in the back seat, dressed in blacks and grays, thin gloves over her hands. "Were you guys able to sneak out okay without Danny?"

"Yeah," said Tucker.

"It was a bit trickier without him," said Jazz. She was lucky that her parents wore earplugs to sleep, and she was fairly certain Danny was out of the house entirely. Fighting a ghost, probably. She always told him to wake her up before he left, so at least one person knew where he was and could help him, but he never did.

"Okay, Jazz, you can get closer, now, then Sam can hop out and Box 'em."

"That was fast," said Jazz, starting the car forward again.

"What can I say?" said Tucker. "Pure talen-"

Something in the car started shrieking. Jazz jumped, momentarily pressing too hard on the gas, and the car lurched forward. Sam swore.

"What is that?" asked Tucker, hands over his ears.

"Who care?" shouted Sam, over the noise. "Turn it off, turn it off!"

"It's the- It's the anti-ecto alarm! I told them not to put it on my car!" She leaned across Tucker and opened the glove box. Sure enough, a sleek chrome-and-green monstrosity sat in her poor, innocent glove box, flashing screens, dials, and indicator lights at them. The car cabin lit up like a disco.

Jazz and Tucker jabbed at buttons until the thing shut up.

"Okay," said Tucker. "I think we're going to have to abort. I'm gonna bet my aunt in Chicago heard that."

Jazz blushed. "Sorry guys," she said. She was going to have words with her parents after this. What if she'd been on the highway when that thing went off? They really didn't think these things through.

"We can't abort!" protested Sam. "We need to get the thing! Before they start running tests on it!"

Jazz started backing up the car.

"Yeah, I know, but we needed stealth. We don't have that anymore. Hold up, Jazz, I need to erase my presence from their system."

Sam grumbled. "What set it off, anyway. Boxy?"

"No, it looks like this was calibrated to only go off for a class seven or above," said Tucker, peering at the alarm.

"Class seven?" repeated Jazz. "But... You don't think Danny-"

"No, he's in the suburbs, dealing with Skulker." Jazz looked over at Tucker's computer to see the Ghost Watch app icon blinking in the corner of his screen. "This is Vlad. Crap."

The door made a thunk when Sam swung it too far out and it hit a wall. Jazz winced, but rolled down her window. "What are you doing?" she hissed.

"We can't let Vlad get away with it!"

"And what are you going to do? Sam!"

"Getting back into the cameras," muttered Tucker, typing furiously.

"I'm calling Danny," said Jazz.

"Won't answer, he's fighting Skulker."

"Well, maybe he's finished!" said Jazz, dialing.

There was a flare of blue white light from up ahead and an angry shout. A glowing silhouette joined Sam's dark one. She had released the Box Ghost.

Jazz groaned. "Why did she do that now?"

"Shhh!" said Tucker. Something began to make little beeping noises. "Oh, jeez."

"What's that?"

"My ghost detector. It's tuned to Vlad." He opened his door half way. "Sam!" he shouted. "Incoming!"

She pressed herself to the side of the alley just in time to avoid a dark, horned figure swooping down on her from above. The Box Ghost was not so lucky.

"... and it's got a lower range," said Tucker, faintly.

Vlad Plasmius, rimmed in fuchsia light, floated twenty feet in the air. He had one hand around the Box Ghost's neck, the other full of neon pink fire. "Oh," he said, his voice echoing clearly in the alleyway. "It's you. What are you doing here, pest?"

"Uhhhhh," said the Box Ghost as Sam tried to make her way back to the car.

"And with Daniel's little friends no less?"

Sam broke into a run, slammed Tucker's door shut, yanked open the passenger door behind him, and slid in. Jazz wasted no time in slamming on the gas. If her car got a few scrapes, so be it.

There was a second Vlad behind them. She dropped her phone and slammed on the brakes. It was still ringing.

Smiling like a villain from a slasher movie, this second Vlad stepped intangibly into the car.

"Well, now," he said, smoothly. "What's this? Daniel's friends, but no Daniel? Whatever are the three of you doing here of all places? And at this hour?"

"What are you doing here?" asked Sam.

"No need to be rude, Samantha, dear," said Vlad. "Daniel doesn't know about your little excursion, does he? He's still across town, occupied with Skulker. You can tell him he won't have to worry anymore. I'll take good care of his body."

"Dude," said Tucker, "do you have any idea how gross that sounds?"

Vlad scowled and flicked his fingers. A ray of pink burned a quarter sized hole in the back of Tucker's headrest.

"If he had a problem with me taking it, he should have hidden it better," said Vlad. "I have no desire to have the existence of half ghosts revealed simply because Daniel hid his corpse in same park the police have their annual picnic!"

"Actually," said Tucker, "they usually have it in Marley Park. Aren't you the mayor? Shouldn't you know this?"

Vlad's scowl deepened further. "Drive safely, Jasmine." The duplicate dissolved into magenta and pink mist.

Sam sneezed. "Gross, I think I got him in my nose."

"Guys," said Tucker. "I've got alerts on the police lines, someone reported a disturbance. We really need to go."

.

"Vlad stole my," Danny waved his hands in the air in place of the word. "Are you serious? And you guys know, because you were going to try to steal it, and you didn't tell me?" His friends and sister looked sheepishly at the ground. "Why did you wait 'til now to tell me? I've been having anxiety attacks about it all night. I thought that the stupid ME had, I don't know, insomnia or something! It was Vlad?"

"Yeah," said Sam.

"Argh!" said Danny, starting to pace. Thank goodness his room was large enough to have a good pace in, even with three other teens in it. "I don't even want to think what he could be doing with it, but I am! What if- What if he goes full-bore Frankenstein and freaking reanimates it? What am I supposed to do then? And the police! They're going to think I did it, and there goes my credibility with the police!"

"You were on Ghost Watch fighting Skulker when it happened," offered Tucker.

"Ghosts can be in two places at once! The police know that! That's not a good enough alibi!" He put his hands on his face and groaned. "Am I going to have to break into Vlad's house? Again? He has to have a ghost shield up around it by now. And a human shield. And a ghost-human shield. I'm dead."

"You're not dead, Danny," said Jazz.

"I am dead. In ever sense of the word. Dead, I tell you, dead."

"Deep breaths," said Jazz. "You're hyperventilating."

It was true. He sat down on his bed and buried his face in his hands. "I don't even know what secret lair he's brought it to."

"Wait, you mean, you can't tell where it is?" asked Sam.

"No," said Danny. "If I could, I would have known when Vlad took it."

There was a howl from downstairs as someone rang the doorbell. Danny jumped up. "I'll get it," he said. The group bundled down the stairs, trying to keep up with him.

Before opening the door, Danny glanced out the window.

"Oh, heck, it's them."

"Them who?" asked Jazz.

"Them. The detectives!"

.

"Alright," said Jones, looking at the place where Phantom's body should have been but wasn't. "This is officially too big for just one team. Paterson, Collins, what were you going to do today?"

"Interview high school kids," said Collins.

"Right. You're still going to do that. I'm going to get Murphy and Madison on the break-in, talking to witnesses, but first, your opinions."

"It wasn't Phantom," said Collins. "He could have just come in and taken it, at any time, not just the middle of the night."

"And he wouldn't have needed to take out the cameras and security system," said Paterson, looking over her shoulder at the tech people set up in one corner.

"It was a human. Or a ghost who didn't want us to know who they are," finished Collins.

"Great," said Jones. "That's what I thought, too. I was hoping you'd tell me I was wrong."

"Sorry, cap," said Collins.

"Go on, get out of here," said Jones, making a shooing motion.

.

"Still can't believe that his name is Wesley Weston," said Collins. "Or that he has a record for trespassing and stalking a classmate and claiming that he's a ghost."

"Want to bet that the classmate in question is Fenton?" asked Paterson.

"No thanks," said Collins. "It would have been better if the victim's name hadn't been withheld." He avoided the word 'wish.'

"Yeah, yeah," said Paterson. She knocked on the door.

A balding red haired man with thick glasses opened the door. "Oh," he said. "Please tell me this isn't about Wesley again. Do I need a lawyer?"

"He didn't do anything," said Collins, quickly. "We just want to ask him a few questions."

"It's unrelated to the stalking charges, which were dropped," added Paterson.

"Great," grumbled the man. He turned. "Wesley! The police want to talk to you!"

.

"Well," said Collins, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "That was enlightening."

"His room belongs on a movie set," said Paterson. "Jeez Louise, we're going to have to keep an eye on that kid. He has a freaking conspiracy theory board."

"It was pretty convincing, though. The kid can talk."

"We need to confirm his data, though."

"Yeah. Talk to more witnesses. See if Fenton really does run off whenever Phantom shows up."

.

"Fenton?" asked Paulina Sanchez, wrinkling her nose so prettily that Paterson suspected she practiced the expression in the mirror. "What about him? I thought we were talking about Phantom. Mi amor." She leaned a little farther into the doorway. She had not let the detectives inside. "Not Fenton."

"We're investigating a number of different angles, Miss," said Collins. "Now, if you could tell us, does he seem to leave class before ghost fights break out."

"Yeah," said Paulina. "He's got some kind of sixth sense thing going on, but he's such a coward. He only ever uses it to run away. Doesn't even try to warn anyone else! I don't know how his friends stand him."

.

"You're talking about Phantom?" asked Sophia LaMar. "You'll want my parents. I'm only an initiate. I'll go get them." She closed the door.

"Do we run away from the cult house?" asked Paterson.

"No, it'll make us look bad."

.

"You know," said Paterson, "if I'd wanted a lecture on how time doesn't exist, I'd drive over to the university and sit in on a class on relativity. Not whatever that was."

"At least now we know that ghosts can time travel?" asked Collins, weakly.

"Let's hurry up and get to Fenton's house," said Paterson. "Do you think he'll even talk to us?"

"Who knows?" asked Collins.

[cxmetery-gates]

VALOR - DARTH MAUL

PROLOGUE: FREEDOM

SUMMARY: Ucilla Zykoff, a troubled Padawan, and her Master are sent to protect Duchess Satine Kryze alongside Master Qui-Gon Jinn and Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi. However, an ambush leaves Ucilla wither her first taste of freedom. WORD COUNT: 2k NOTES: I told myself not to make a Darth Maul fic. Oops. I also told myself to just make my OC human and definitely do not create a race of near-humans. Didn’t do that either. I’ll be posting a ramble about Ucilla’s species in the future! WARNINGS: sci-fi violence, kinda angsty?

VALOR MASTERLIST

THROUGH THICK CLOUDS OF DUST and an onslaught of armored fighters closing in, a racing heart hammered as erratic as the blaster fire pointed in her direction. Wrath encased the young girl, white-hot rage allowing for her power to extend to the weapons stationed in her hands. A fuchsia hue lit up her surroundings as each blade swung, a bubble appearing as if forming a shield to deflect the oncoming storm.

Ucilla Zykoff huffed at a lock of loose icy blonde hair that attempted to block her vision. Her palms were beginning to perspire as she worked beside her Master, blocking blaster fire and reflecting them back into the chest of her enemies. The rebels were no match against two well-trained Jedi, so her bewilderment as to why the Mandalorian terrorists were not aware of their eventual defeat was only natural for the hot-headed Padawan.

A beam of scarlet missed Ucilla's head by an inch. Recalling the time a blaster bolt constrained her to rely on a splint for a month, Ucilla, with her teeth bared, swung her lightsabers at great speed and agility, projecting two rounds through a pair of skulls.

The Jedi Council sending Ucilla and her Master on this mission was inevitable. Growing concerns about a civil war was on the rise caused by a heritage-based splinter group stirring up problems, leading Mandalore to grow more and more worried. To diffuse the tension between the planet and the traditionalist Mandalorians, the Council sent two of their best Jedi along with their Padawans to take care of the situation and to protect the future Duchess.

Peacefully and civilly, they were told.

One of Ucilla's lightsaber penetrated upwards through the ribs of a human who flew too close, the other blade thrown to dismember another while slicing through their jetpack.

Well, at least she tried.

Following traditional Jedi styles of dueling did not come as naturally as the offensive for Ucilla. As a Youngling, Ucilla was routinely reminded that the light side of the Force should control her movements rather than relying on defeat or death as her enemy's outcome. Ucilla guessed her aptitude for aggressive maneuvers was why Adi Gallia was assigned as her Master. Adi Gallia was one of the best of Jedi Masters: focused, determined, and, perhaps most importantly, strong with the light side. It would not have surprised Ucilla to find out the Jedi Council were hoping Master Adi would rub off on the girl.

Ucilla deflected another torrent of bolts, the swing of her two purplish-red lightsabers creating a haze around her lithe figure. Not too far away, the Padawan spotted her Master, a cobalt saber cutting through attacks as if this were nothing more than practice.

Amidst the battle, Ucilla suddenly felt vibrations beneath her feet, the tremble of echoes. Her mind was mostly focused on the assault, but her species' sensitive senses allowed for the Padawan to identify the peculiar shifts in the ground: the reverberation of what sounds like footsteps in a tunnel.

Confused, Ucilla willed herself to focus on the dirt, throwing herself behind a fallen building to lay close to the ground, pressing her ear into the rubble. As impossible as it seemed, Ucilla felt the quakes beneath the earth of Kalevala as terrorists moved in and move out, both above and beneath the surface. Suddenly, there were scattered explosions, the dirt beginning to loosen and with her sharp senses, Ucilla could sense what her Master could not.

Per his instruction, Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn's Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Duchess Satine Kryze took a speeder to the rendezvous point, their hide-out on Kalevala. What was supposed to be an investigation into the seeming ghost town turned into the battle Ucilla and the two Jedi Masters face alone in the center of the city― nearing the heart of the next attack.

"Kriff," swore Ucilla, bouncing up to her feet. During the ambush, Ucilla and Master Adi became separated from Master Jinn. Before their separation, Master Jinn made the remark that this could have been a trap to capture the Duchess while in search of food and supplies. Ucilla, ever the pessimist, agreed with the Jedi Master's assessment, but she wasn't prepared for the explosions erupting under her feet as the Mandalorians' attempt to usurp the future ruler.

In hindsight, the action makes complete sense for their war-hungry kind. Looking at where she was, to blow up an entire city just to undermine four Jedi is in ancient Mandalorian style, after all.

Her thoughts shifted to the Padawan and Duchess. Both Jedi Masters ordered Obi-Wan and Duchess Satine to head back to their hide-out before so much as a scout found them. Now, Ucilla wondered how long they were in the enemy sights. Fearing the worst, Ucilla could only imagine the fight Obi-Wan and the Duchess found themselves in now.

"Master!" Ucilla cried out, rushing towards Adi. The two Jedi make haste to hide behind debris. With their backs against the dusty, fallen pillar, Ucilla took several deep breathes before facing her Master. "There's a tunnel system beneath us, and from what I've learned about these traditionalists, I don't think they're just for soldier transportation. I think the Mandalorians are setting off bombs to destroy the city."

Master Adi nodded. "They want to take over Kalevala the only way they know how: through destruction."

"Unfortunately," Ucilla growled, ducking her head as a shot skimmed over the pillar. "We need to get out of here. I sense something worse than blasters if we do not leave."

The Tholothian give an aspirated exhale. "Try to retreat to the alley," Master Adi responded. "From there, we will find Master Jinn."

Ucilla looked behind her where Master Adi's eyes were trained. An alley could be spotted but there was a far and wide opening between them and safety. But orders were orders, and a good Padawan listens to their Master.

The Jedi leap from their position, finding an assault of beams pointed in their direction. Ucilla could not tell for sure, but it seemed as though the number of Mandalorians multiplied by tenfold. Even with two fuchsia sabers, Ucilla thought another just might help.

And perhaps it would have: Ucilla fell to the ground with a yelp when blaster fire shot through her left shoulder. The sensation burned every charred piece of flesh that the fire dug through until it shot through the other side.

The blonde Scaki shot backwards on her back, rolling to avoid further hits. Unlike ever before, an indescribable shade of red passed over her vision, turning her agonizing pain into raw power. Had her Master had the time, Master Adi most likely would have scolded her Padawan for using the Force to propel a dozen advancing Mandalorians straight into the buildings so fast that they had no time to scream before death took them.

"Ucilla!" the Master cried, scarcely lifting her eyes from blasters. "Are you alright? Can you get to safety?"

The voice of Master Adi broke Ucilla's concentration, a good thing for everyone.

Grunting with a shake of her head, Ucilla stood, attaching one saber to her belt while the other continued to block incoming attacks. "Go," the Padawan shouted, "I'll cover you, Master."

As though the earth below let out a large exhale, the ground beneath the square quaked, a rumble coming from the underground. For a moment, Ucilla, Master Adi, and the rebels ceased all fire as their balance became lost.

No one found their ground again. With another mighty roar, the earth was close to collapse. Ucilla knew this, so did Adi.

The Force was hesitant with Ucilla's desires, as if pleading not to. Ucilla was not after a suicide mission, but the fear of her permanent death did strike a punch to her courage. As long as she planned it timely, she would survive.

And she was right.

Just moments before, Ucilla Force-pushed her Master several meters away and, no more than a few seconds later, Ucilla found herself running away from the collapsing earth, yet still caught amongst the rubble. Using all that she was trained in as well as the gifts of her species, Ucilla dug through the rubble, ensuring where she lied would not allow for rubble to completely crush her.

Ucilla's heart was loud in her eardrums. Darkness encased her no matter where she was. Her golden eyes were attuned to the dark, yet no shapes could be spotted in the enclosed space. The air was thick in dust, heavy in uneasiness. It was moments like these where Ucilla wished she had paid more attention in her training. Though mediation was an easy skill, the impending doom disrupted all her thoughts, slicing through any kind of call she attempted to push out.

No matter how hard she tried to call out to her Master, Ucilla came to realize no one was coming to help her. It was not long before Ucilla felt her Master slip away, no doubt joining up with Master Jinn and Obi-Wan to relocate with the Duchess.

She should have known the Jedi Master would not come to search through the rubble. There were matters far more important than a Padawan: cities to protect, battles to be fought, innocents to save. The Jedi were sent to Mandalore to protect the world and the rulers from the rebel group, and Ucilla's passing would not hinder such plans. The Scaki girl would be remembered for her bravery and self-sacrifice.

Shock eventually took over. Before long, all Ucilla could feel around her was the dirt in the callous of her fingers and weight of stone trying to collapse. As though her breathing stopped entirely, Ucilla's racing heart, thoughts, and very life also seemed to slow down. The Padawan almost felt dead as she lied in a state close to rigor.

A great feeling entered her as she found strength to move. Fearing that she would perish alone under a fallen city, anger and preservation finally unlocked her lifeless body. Her hands pressed against the stone slabs, nails dig into dirt, and shoves force the rubble around her to lift away, creating an opening for the moons and starlight to fill the void.

Ucilla was cautious as she ascended. No life could be spotted according to her senses, but she was still not completely convinced. When her hands gripped the edge of the ground from where it fell, she pushed herself over, only to end up lying face up in the dirt, her breathing hard and muscles shaking.

The stars that dotted the sky looked similar to those above Coruscant. All constellations began to look alike after seeing so many skies on so many worlds. She found no home in the night sky she watched as a Youngling, and now, as she watches the interstellar clouds on Kalevana, Ucilla realized she never had a home. All she had was a cell.

It was not long before Ucilla let out a laugh, her golden eyes watching the stars shine down on her. Her pale hands reach up to cover her mouth, a giggle escaping between her fingers. It was only then did she feel the tear-stained paths on her cheek, but by that point, it was unclear whether those broke free amidst her turmoil or as she relished in her newfound joy.

So, this is what freedom tastes like.

Ucilla found her golden eyes lost in the fields of stars and nebulas. Just as them, she had no obligations, none to abide by or listen to. She had herself and that felt like enough.

As Ucilla walked towards where she came, she stumbled across her discarded cloak. After brushing away the dust, the now-presumed-dead Padawan slipped her arms through the sleeves then pulled the hood over the top of her head. Ucilla stuffed the lightsaber attached to her belt into the inside pocket in as she leaned down to grip a discarded blaster.

Kalevana was not completely desolate. All planets have populated cities full of inhabitants who want nothing to do with wars or Jedi business. That was what she planned to find, and Ucilla was apt to have her way.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

TAGLIST:

@bonesaldente​

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE TAGGED, LET ME KNOW!

[revalise]

After the Sun [M] | 01

Pairing: Chrollo Lucilfer x Fem. OC

Genre: Romance and eventual smut

Rating: M

Words: 2500+

Notes: Huge thanks to Sky @pixiewombat for beta reading this chapter! 

All characters are humans unless otherwise stated in their description. Hence, Zazan is human in the story.

Masterlist | Prologue | 02

Chrollo Lucilfer gets everything he wants, when he wants-even if it means undergoing extreme measures. Nothing bothered him, until an aphrodite, Astra Gerber, appeared one night and stole from the infamous thief. In return that Chrollo doesn’t report her, he strikes a deal. But it could be more than what Astra bargained for. 

BOLD

“What do you mean your necklace was stolen?” Pakunoda eyed Chrollo carefully as he sat behind his desk at his penthouse, looking over the magnificent, illuminating lights of Yorknew City, while she stood in front of him.

“It just was stolen,” he deadpanned.

Pakunoda clicked her tongue. There was no way someone could steal from Chrollo—a bandit himself, and a good one at that.

She thought to herself for a moment. ‘Is he planning to steal the poor girl’s hatsu?’

Once, he had charmed the pants off of a girl who could write fortunes and stole her ability. Despite his obvious antics, he wasn’t found out, thanks to the girl’s inexperience. But when he managed to get a hold of how it should be done, he started doing it again and again. 

Pakunoda didn’t complain. Chrollo’s Bandit’s Secret was a trump card, not only for him, but for the rest of the group. When Chrollo noticed the drastic advantage the ‘strategy’ gave him, he started using it more often. To him, it felt like a shortcut.

And who would expect someone so sophisticated and pretty-boy looking?

She sighed and put the folder down on his desk.

Chrollo had asked Pakunoda to find the girl who had stolen his necklace. He remained vague about it, but knowing Chrollo, it might be something extremely important. 

He looked over the files, silently reading their contents, taking them in just as he consumed  knowledge from his ancient books. His fingers traced the letters of the name written in bold on one of the pages.

ASTRA BEATRIZ GERBER

Pakunoda gazed at him with suspicion. Meddling with this girl could endanger the nature of the group. She was nowhere near a simple girl, alright. The girl spelled trouble.

She was the illegitimate child of an acknowledged former lawyer, Martin Gerber, before he took over the Gerber family dynasty.  

This information wasn’t exactly kept a secret. It was silent gossip within the small circle of socialites and elites. Illegitimate children weren’t news to the circle. Three out of five families in the circle had a case of their own. But it so happened that the Gerber family was known to be conservative—faithful to their betrothed, or as painted by the media.

Nevertheless, it only took that mistake to have the head of the family, Rod Gerber,  wavering in his trust in Martin. To his dismay, this almost cost him the whole dynasty. Fortunately, Rod was a good man, unlike his son. To secure his position in becoming the next successor as the eldest, Martin had to keep the child and take her as his own.

It shamed Martin to do so, keeping an illegitimate of his own accord. Though his wife was noticeably against it, she had to agree if she wanted to be the wife of the very powerful man. Cleverly, she argued that it would bring discomfort to her family if the child were to live in the same house as them. Rod then agreed that Martin would just have to sustain the needs of the child in the mother’s care.

Chrollo took all of the information  in, almost feeling bad for the girl, if  it weren’t for his own experiences.  

The same thought as Pakunoda had crossed his mind. Her father had connections in law. If Chrollo, say for example, met the girl’s father and he decided to look deeper into Chrollo and his background, it wouldn’t really be a problem. The group knew how to cut their ties. They eliminated those who had seen them. But if worse came to worst, this could have blown the group’s cover. 

The Phantom Troupe weren’t regular thieves. They were thieves with intellect that calculated their every movement. Before they acted on anything, Chrollo, who had a personal philosophy of theological dualism - the balance between good and evil - that influenced his decisions, would first weigh his options. His actions were always calculated.

It was not that they feared the law or the man himself, but the Phantom Troupe managed to blend in with the crowd, no one knew of who they were. And the group loved being free despite the criminality they commit.

From the moment he first laid his eyes on her, he knew she was trouble.

But none of the information stopped him.

***

Zazan promised Astra dinner. But it was way past dinner, and the staff of the three-star Michelin restaurant she had booked kept going back and forth, assisting and asking for her order, which she refused to give until her aunt arrived.

Her aunt, Zazan, was her father, Martin’s, little sister. For all her life, she was her mother figure. Zazan always had her back whenever her father didn’t. Her aunt loved designer and luxury items, and was a designer herself. Hence, her love for luxury and designer.

To state it simply, Astra was given to her aunt after she lived with her dad for two years when her mother died. She was only six then.

She remembers how much scorn she received from Martin’s legitimate family, and how she was treated as less than a freeloader, being an illegitimate child. Not once did her father defend her from them.

After all, she was a nobody, aside from the Gerber blood running through her veins.

Astra, at four, never spoke with anyone, not even the maids that served the family in their mansion. She remained quiet, hiding inside her room, but doing everything she was told—even standing for hours, with no food and water, beside the silver knight decorations in the hallway of their house because her older half-sister told her to. She ignored the numbing sensation in her knees until a helper saw her.

That was, until Zazan returned to the city and took interest in the meek, little girl she once was. And for the first time in two years, she spoke and her voice sounded hoarse. Her words were: “Can I come with you?”

From then on, Zazan took her as her own. Martin had no objections, nor did his family. In fact, the situation was in their favor. In his father’s eyes, as long as Astra wasn’t disobedient or brought problems—more than she already had, being an illegitimate—upon the family, it’d be fine.  

However, it seemed Astra grew up to be a spitting image of Zazan’s personality. Astra grew bolder, braver, and stronger, all because she had Zazan to look up to. But Astra wasn’t nice on a daily basis. She was nowhere near a saint.

“May I take your order, miss?” a smiling boy, who looked a few years younger than Astra, came to assist her. But a girl, wearing the same uniform as him, came to them, gripping his arm.

“Sorry, miss.” The staff leaned in closer to the boy’s ear to whisper, “I’ve been trying to take her order. She’s waiting for someone, but I think she got stood up.”

“Oh...” the boy muttered “Too bad, she actually looks pretty.”

He turned his attention to Astra, about to apologize, when she interrupted him.

Astra laced her fingers together, her elbows on the table, and rested her head on her hands. With a sarcastic tone, she said, “If you’re going to talk shit about me, consider doing it somewhere else where I can’t hear you.”

“S-sorry, miss…” the staff muttered, afraid. All of their customers had power, because only the rich could afford the place. They feared they could lose their jobs. Most of all, they knew who Astra was. They knew of her influence.

“But thanks for complimenting my looks.” Astra flashed a grin that didn’t reach her eyes. “Get me some champagne.”

They scurried to give her what she wanted, too obvious in wanting to leave her sight.

Astra leaned on her chair, her arms crossed over her chest. She clicked her tongue in impatience. For once, she regretted asking for champagne. She felt the urge to leave. To elites like her, hunger didn’t come, anyway; she’d still have a lot of food at home. She could leave before they gave her champagne, and leave cash three times the bill, but her pride made her stay.

And she hated to admit it, but she really needed to see her aunt. She needed someone.

She needed someone to hold her at times she felt like slipping away.

As Astra waited impatiently, a man sat at the opposite end of the table. It happened so quickly, she didn’t have the time to process it. The man looked studly in his crisp suit. He wore a white shirt underneath, topped with a dark blazer and slacks.

“I’m sorry. Did I keep you waiting?” He asked in his most polite tone while he pulled at the opening of his blazer.

Her eyebrows shot up and she clicked her tongue, but she tried to maintain her composure. After all, it was a restaurant for the high-class. Manners above all.

“Sorry, you must have the wrong table.”

The man chuckled. “Oh, have you forgotten about me, miss? Allow me to reintroduce myself,” he grinned, “I’m the man you stole from a few nights ago.”

For a moment, perplexity was etched on her face, ‘Bitch, which one?’ 

Yes, the man looked a little familiar, but with the amount of people she was acquainted with, it was hard to keep track of the long list. 

“Oh, I see,” she said plainly. “I must’ve stolen from you when I was drunk.” 

Astra leaned forward and put her elbows on the table. She whispered, “You see, I have a habit of doing those when I’m drunk.” She flashed her sultry smile. 

Her hands reached for her fuchsia devotion bag made of python skin. It featured an exclusive bejeweled personalized heart closure, inspired by the techniques of fine jewelry, which etched her initials in it.

ABG

Astra clicked her tongue when her eyes met her initials on her bag. She laughed inwardly at how she sent it back to Italy when her initials weren’t in bold.

“How much was it? I could pay for it right now.”

The way the man grinned at her assured her that it’s done for. Game over. She wins. Whatever she did, she got away with it. Not because of her pull and connections, but because of her charm. And she knew it. She grinned at this. 

“Actually,” the man began, “I have other things in mind.”

“Oh,” Astra had a knowing smirk. She knew of what the man could possibly ask. It was no different. He was no different from all the other men she’d met before. ‘A night, perhaps?’

“Let’s hear it,” she said sultrily. 

It was the man’s turn to lean closer and rest his elbows on the table. He laced his hands together and flashed a smile. “I was thinking of jail time.”

Her hypocritical smile dropped. She was rendered shaken. Just as quick as the change in her mood, the sourness and bitterness of being embarrassed in front of the mysterious man in front of her, she showed her true colors. 

‘Where the fuck is my champagne?’ she thought.

Her back rested on her chair and she crossed her arms. “Name?” her tone was as rude as it could get. 

“Now we’re talking,” the man chuckled, and he rested his back on his chair as well. “Chrollo Lucilfer. I believe I already told you that. I’m hurt you forgot about me so easily.”

Astra didn’t reciprocate the demeanor Chrollo was showing. While Chrollo looked composed and polite, Astra, on the other hand, was irking in anger. 

“What do you want?” she spat, so rudely you wouldn’t think that it was the same woman who had been flashing sultry and inviting smiles.

“Nothing much, actually,” he grinned but it didn’t reach his eyes. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll discuss the matter, and I promise you it’d be done with.”

If it were only a few minutes ago, she would have gone with him at that very moment. She would’ve taken him to some backroom and let them do their business. But it was different now. 

To her, it seemed like the man didn’t want any physical relationships. He was danger, nothing else. 

“And if I refuse?” 

“Your scandalous actions will not only be known by your father, Martin Gerber, but your little circle as well,” he replied.

“I’m impressed. You’ve done your research about me,” she scoffed. 

One of the staff who assisted her earlier appeared with champagne in her hands. She kept her head down, but kept a shy smile and gave continuous glances toward Chrollo as she poured the liquid into their respective glass.

“Thanks, miss,” Chrollo flashed the girl a sweet smile. 

Astra could have sworn she saw the girl almost curtsy at that. She rolled her eyes. 

When the girl left, Astra arched her brow. Chrollo on the other hand, ignored her demeanor. “Shall I order you some real food?” 

He was about to call the staff again, but Astra stopped him. “I’m not hungry.”

For a moment, Astra almost regretted her actions because Chrollo might be hungry. But if it’d be the same staff who keep annoying her with how they tried to get the man’s attention, forget it. 

‘What is with this restaurant anyway? Why are they always the same people?’

Once the foam settled on her champagne, she drank it quickly, picked up her bag, and stood up. When she looked over at Chrollo, who still sat on his seat gazing at her, she scoffed. “I’m coming with you. Wait for me outside in a moment.”

“You’ve said that before,” he replied, reminiscing to when she said the exact thing when they met the other night, and then she was gone with his St. Peter’s cross necklace.

“You seriously have something on me. Do you think I’ll run away from you?” Astra argued. “Besides, you’ve done your research on me. So I expect you to appear wherever I am.”

“I don’t believe you,” Chrollo stood up. “Wherever you’re going, I’ll come with you.”

Astra rolled her eyes. If she didn’t have something, it would obviously be his trust. And she had to get it no matter what, if she wanted to get out of the situation quickly.

She turned on her heel and Chrollo followed closely behind her. Suddenly, something rang from Chrollo’s pocket when they stepped out of the restaurant and into the lobby of the luxury hotel. Astra turned her attention to it and then to his eyes looking back at hers. 

“Go,” she nodded at him in a dismissive manner. “I promise I won’t leave.”

Chrollo eyed her carefully, weighing the sincerity of her words, to which she responded with widening her eyes at him. There was a faint smile in Chrollo’s face before he finally took his phone out and turned his back on her. 

Astra lightly shook her head. She didn’t notice, but there was a small smile on her face as well. And just as if the timing couldn’t be more perfect, someone she knew all too well appeared in front of her, looking down at her, mocking her.

“Dad…” she whispered.  

[rohad93]

Moonlit Masquerade: Ch 8

On Friday Amity is tired, but she relishes every minute she spends at school and not home, because the weekend was looking to be just as exhausting. 

Blue moon masquerades are a Blight family tradition, her parents have been throwing the parties for as long as she can remember and it’s a tradition that they begin throwing these parties at sixteen. With this being the first blue moon since the twins turned sixteen it's finally time for them to do it. 

Normally the two are all about parties, but considering all the rules and protocols their parents have set for the event, any enthusiasm the twins might have had is well and truly dead before the party planning even begins.  

Now it’s just one more thing expected of them and Amity can tell how much they hate it, so she tries to help them with the planning whenever she can.

Someday it will be her turn after all. 

She also still has yet to speak to Luz since Wednesday and she feels bad about it, but facing her is too hard right now, especially when the object of her affections seems to actively pushing her toward this secret admirer she has.

She clutches her book to her chest as she walks down Hexside’s quiet and deserted hallways. 

Maybe Luz is just a pipe-dream she needs to try and forget about. She was never going to have the courage to face her and tell her how she feels, and if Luz had any inclination toward her at all she wouldn’t be advocating so hard for a mysterious stranger. 

Her lips quiver and her eyes burn but she quickly shoves it down. She is not going to cry at school, she’s a Blight!

A mantra she uses to steel herself even as she hates it. 

She shakes her head and continues on toward her locker. 

When she stops to stand in front of it the creature looks annoyed and she realizes why when it opens its mouth unprompted and sticks out its tongue.

She's started to get a little more used to these surprises but the one waiting for her this morning makes her gasp. 

Sitting there on her locker's tongue is a small maroon colored velvet box she knows immediately is a jewelry box. A piece of folded paper sitting beneath it.

She hesitates a minute before picking up the box and the note. Curiosity gets the better of her and she opens the box before anything else and stares wide-eyed and mouth slightly agape.

Nestled within the satin lining is a brooch. 

Fine lines of gold shaped to look like thorned vines twist and loop in random but pleasing patterns, overlapping each other in places. At the center of the vines is a small tear-shaped gemstone in a gold setting. She's not sure what kind, but it's a deep fuchsia color that sparkles and gleams when it catches a stray beam of light from the hallways overhead lights. 

It's beautiful and Amity is in awe of it as she pulls it from its box with hesitant fingers and holds it gently in her hand. She runs her thumb over the hard and smooth facets of the stone, feeling the different, sharp cut sides press into the pad of her thumb. 

The metal is cool and hefty in her fingers and her heart thuds in her chest that someone would go through all this trouble for her.

It's a common misconception among the student body that Amity Blight must be beating suitors off with a staff, but the truth is no one had ever pursued her.

Her family was highly influential and well off, everyone assumed she was above them, unattainable; so they didn't try. Not that she’d done much to change that opinion. 

Of course, when it finally does happen she's head over heels for someone as unattainable as people think she is…

With gentle fingers she puts the jewelry back in its box and finally turns her attention to the piece of paper, unfolding it.

"Amity,

When I saw this in the market I could only think of you. I hope you like it. This is my final gift as your secret admirer.

Even if you can't return my feelings, would you dance with me tomorrow night?

I'll be wearing a black and purple horned demon mask.

~Your soon-to-be-not-so-secret Admirer 

Amity's heart is thumping loudly in her chest, the meaning of the letter is clear. Her secret admirer is going to be at the masquerade tomorrow night. 

She clutches the box in her hands and bites her lip.

Maybe… this was her chance to let go of Luz… 

Her heart aches at the thought, but her mind knows that it would be the better choice. 

Luz is human and while it's rather uncertain right now if she'll ever actually leave the Boiling Isles since the only known portal has been destroyed, Amity's parents would have an aneurysm if they were to ever find out she was in a romantic relationship with a human, the Owl Lady's apprentice no less. 

Despite that, if the opportunity presented itself Amity would still leap headfirst into it without any reservations.

She's never known anyone like Luz in all her life. The girl is kindness and sunshine incarnate, something exceedingly rare in a place like the Boiling Isles. 

She’s made her a better person in the time they’ve known each other. 

Looking back now she finds it hard to believe that she ever hated her.

She looks down at the maroon box in hand and frowns, chest tight. Conflicted emotions run rampant through her mind

For all the things she loves about Luz, of which there are many, she knows that she'll never have the courage to tell her so, and Luz has made it clear in just as many ways that she doesn't see Amity in the same light, and at the end of the day, all her longing and feelings are for not if Luz doesn't return them.

But here, in the palm of her hand, she has a chance at something that might be real and not just a flight of fantasy.  

She takes a deep breath and puts the box and note in her bag and heads to class.

She doesn't see Luz at lunch, for which she is grateful but disappointed. She sits with Willow and Gus when they wave her over.

"Hey, Amity, have you seen Luz today? We missed her this morning," the plant witch asks. Amity frowns.

"No, I haven't seen her all day." 

"She must not be at school today…" Willow frowns.

That's unusual, Luz loves school. Amity wonders if she's sick, but in the back of her mind, she wonders if Luz is avoiding her.

She looks down at her lunch and is suddenly not very hungry, but she stays and chats with Gus and Willow.

~ ~ 

Luz probably should have told her friends that she decided not to go to school today in order to have more time to get ready for Saturday night, but she’s on a deadline, there was no time to go to the school to tell Gus and Willow. She really needed to get a scroll. 

She only has one real problem left.

Hiding her ears.

If either of the Clawthorne sisters had magic it would be an easy thing to cast an illusion spell over her ears, but they don't; so it's not.

She's been leafing through Eda's various magic books, searching for a practical solution to her problem.

So far, no luck.

"Ugh!" Luz groans, shelving the books and stalking to her room, grumbling under her breath. "Why couldn't I have been born with a bile sac!?" she laments, dropping face down onto her sleeping bag.

She’s running out of time and unlike the way she handles most things, no plan, full steam ahead and flying by the seat of her pants, she needs to have this figured out before the party or everything was going to be for nothing! Now wasn’t the time to sharpen her improv skills. 

She has her clothes and her mask, they were easy. She was pretty pleased with herself on that front.

“Aghhhhh” she yells into the fabric before she ran out of air and was forced to flip over onto her back. 

Her time is ticking away and she can’t waste anymore with her frustrations. With a sigh, she hauled herself up and looked around her room, spotting the book about ancient, wild magic Amity had leant her and leaned over to grab it, dragging it into her lap and flipping it open.

She quickly leafs through page after page, hope waning as the minutes turn to hours and the next thing she knows the orange rays of the sunset are leaking through her window.

She sighed and twisted around, trying to relieve the pressure in her back from sitting hunched over the heavy tome for so long.

Maybe she could wear a hat, would it be okay to wear a hat?

She tiredly flips another page and scans it quickly as she reaches for the next but stops. 

In front of her are some illustrations of witches, but unlike other images in the book, these ones have what look like glyphs drawn on their skin; tattoos maybe?

Some of the book is written in a language she knows and some of it is not, and this section is, of course, not. 

But the longer she studies it the more an idea forms.

She sets the book aside and scrambles to her bag for a pen.

With one in hand she moves back over to the book The studies it again before laying her hand flat against its pages.

Steadily she draws the illusory glyph she'd been experimenting with across the back of her hand. She observes the final product and hesitates.

This could be dangerous.

She doesn’t allow the thought to take up much more than a few seconds of her time as she slaps her other hand over the glyph and willing it to do what she wants.

Her hand is enveloped in a light blue glow and when it fades her hand is tipped with long claws, the glyph still visible on the back of her hand. 

She flexes her hand tentatively and slowly a grin begins to split her face.

“It worked… It worked!” She jumps up with an excited whoop. She licks her thumb and rubs at the ink, as soon as the circle is broken the illusion fades with the same soft blue glow as before. She takes her pen and closes the circle back up and casts the spell again, and again, her hand transforms.

Giddy energy is filling her to near bursting as she shoots out of her room and runs into the bathroom.

It's an hour later that King is banging on the bathroom door.

“Other people live here and need the bathroom!” he squeals angrily, stomping his feet.

He almost falls over when the door suddenly swings open just as he’s pounding on it.

“Weh!” He stumbles, but catches himself and looks up, ready to lay his wrath upon whoever is hogging the bathroom but stops short at the sight in front of him.

“Well? What do you think?” Luz asks excitedly, but she doesn’t wait for his answer before bolting down the hall.

“Eda, EDA!” She calls pounding down the stairs and toward the kitchen, where she can hear someone moving around. Lilith looks up from her place on the couch as the girl passes and does a double take. 

“What?” Eda grumbles looking up from the large pot of potions she’s stirring. “Where’s the fir-” she trails off when she actually sees Luz.

She looks totally the same.

Except where once her ears were round, they are now pointed like any other witch on the Boiling Isles. 

“Wha-?” Eda looks at her wide eyed.

Lilith has followed into the kitchen to get a better look at the girl.

“Fascinating, how did you accomplish this?” She leans in close to get a better look. The illusion is seamless and if she didn’t know better she would have never guessed Luz wasn’t a witch.

“Well, you know that illusion glyph I taught you?” she asks and they nod. “Well, I was looking through this book Amity gave me and it showed wild witches with glyphs drawn on their bodies. So I figured I'd give it a shot!” she grins and reaches up to flick the tips of her now pointed ears. 

Eda walks over and turns her around, brushing Luz’s dark hair out of the way, she can see that  drawn on the back of both of Luz’s ears are small illusory glyphs. The older with grins.

“Kid, you’re brilliant.” She ruffled the girl's hair and Luz beamed. 

“Thanks, Eda.” 

“And think of the scams we could pull with this!” She grins and Lillith rolls her eyes.

Luz just chuckles, not even a little surprised.

[marianagiuseppe67]

Triggers: no triggers, only Arthur being a massive seducer and a bit of a jerk 😂. Some innuendos are there. It can be read by ages 15 and above.

Growing Feelings

Hues of faint blue streamed through the half drawn curtains in the silence of the hallways. A drop of water was dripping continuously from a leaky tap in the kitchen, its sound resounding in the quietude. Sparrows and robins that frequented Le Comte's garden had already begun their day chirping away merrily, their wings fluttering about excitedly. Dew drops graced the petals of the crimson, lavender and fuchsia roses around the lawn and the gazebo. The mansion was steeped in a peaceful silence that characterized the hours of dawn.

The residents of the house were by no means early risers except for Sebastian, their steadfast butler and their newest addition Magnolia, whose lone figure could be seen strolling about near the roses in this hour of twilight. It made for an intriguing spectacle for an onlooker.

Humming distractedly by herself, she closely observed the beauty of the flowers that swayed gently in the crisp morning breeze. An aroma of fresh milk tea wafted from her cup which she held in both hands to warm her palms from the chilly air. She sauntered over to the gazebo, sipping her tea slowly and sat down comfortably on the ornate wooden bench. She quietly took in the tranquillity of her surroundings and pondered deeply about her current stay.

'Had it not been for the fateful day in the Louvre, I wouldn't have been here today. All because of one door' she mused.

Today marked the thirteenth day of her arrival at the mansion. The past few days had gone by in a blur, and just about everyone had been warm and friendly towards her. Well, just about everyone, except for Theo and Sebastian. She felt a growing sense of hostility from Sebastian because he wanted her to help him out in domestic chores which she had flatly refused to do. After all, Comte had treated her as a protected guest, so she saw no reason to serve as a maid just because Sebastian wanted her to be one. On the other hand, Theo had seen her go on her nightly sojourns and had become increasingly suspicious of her motives - quite rightly so. She didn't want to reveal her true identity nor her newfound purpose after her accidental venture into this time.

Conflictlingly on her part, she had found herself increasingly drawn to Arthur in a strange friendship of sorts and had felt that he too was drawn to her in an unsaid manner. He had also expressed his doubts about her, but unlike Theo, he didn't pose a threat to her.

In fact far from it, as he had even risked his life for her just two days ago. The bizarre events of that fateful night flashed through her mind as she absently sipped her tea; how Arthur had taken a bullet for her and how she had to save him, and yet the very sight of him feeding off of her had pleased her cold heart with an unexplained euphoria, a surge of power that she throughly relished, a growing desire where she wanted him to serve her. She wanted him for her own purpose, that was absolute, but the extent of her feelings for him were yet unclear to her. Was it a crush or just her ego? His appealing sultry charms? Or the fact, that she wanted to use him? She was uncertain about her own sentiments and hence, she didn't want to pursue her inexplicable feelings regarding him, thus arriving at the decision that she would distance herself from him.

"Busy much love?" A familiar voice spoke with a jovial lilt, thereby breaking her reverie.

She turned around to peer into a pair of deep blue eyes; eyes that were clever but also earnest; eyes without any hidden motive; eyes that she was mesmerized with.

"What brings you here this early?" She questioned skeptically.

"Well, I saw you from my window and decided to follow you here" he smirked, "..and there is no denying the fact that my presence brought a sparkle to your eyes.." he took a step towards her, grinning from ear to ear.

"Don't be deluded. The so called 'spark' you speak was simply annoyance." she scoffed.

"Interesting. Self denial and frustration are the first part of love." he chuckled.

"I'm quite tempted at the moment to break this tea cup on your head, but I'll give you the choice of the saucer too." Her eyes narrowed at him in seething anger.

'The nerve he has to suggest that I would "love" him! What a fool!' she fumed inwardly.

"I believe Sebastian would be utterly displeased. Why take it out on the crockery my wild flower? Just admit it. You want me." he murmured delicately, taking another step towards her seated figure.

"I'm not in the mood to jest. Leave me be." She muttered sourly and got up from the bench.

She was moving away from him when suddenly, he closed the distance between them in a single fell swoop and grabbed her wrist, the one she had fed him from. The flirtatious smile faded away from his handsome coutenance and was replaced by a sombre expression as his ocean blue eyes bore into her onyx ones.

She stared back into his sapphires, riveted by their unspoken words. His gloved hand held up her wrist reverently, his eyes examining it keenly. His thumb caressed gently over the smooth porcelain skin of her dainty hand, the blue veins of her wrist appearing perfectly intact under her translucent skin, like unbroken miniature streams. She liked the sensation but she showed no reaction. The silence between them seemed to linger for an eternity.

"Magnolia..." he finally whispered, "...what are you?"

He spoke softly, repeating his question from two nights ago, his implication becoming even more obvious as his fingers began to interlock themselves in hers as if welded together.

She gazed at him with a deadpan stare and answered resolutely.

"Don't meddle in things that aren't meant for you Arthur. Leave me alone."

As she irritably freed her hand from his grasp and turned around to leave, he pulled at her hand even more forcefully this time and clasped it with an iron grip. Astonished, she shot him a glare.

"Before you go back to your time, I will discover what you are and what your purpose is..." he stated in a matter-of-fact tone, his eyes point blank and then added with a wolfish smile, "...besides..I want more of this.." and brazenly, he raised her hand towards his lips, kissing it slowly, seductively, relishingly, the tip of his tongue trailing along her wrist.

Snatching away her hand in a heated flurry, she frowned and said icily, grimacing at him "And what if I only wanted to use you? You trust me that much?”

“Unequivocally", he answered spontaneously.

His eyes were honest, with not a trace of his typical foxy smile on his lips, instead an expression of solemnity clouding it.

Astounded at his admission, she exclaimed passionately, "But how can that be? You just proclaimed you want to investigate me. What kind of trust is that?"

She was perplexed at this contradiction.

His eyes studied her face amusedly and with an air of confidence, he continued, "You're far from the innocent thing you seem to be love -that- is undoubtedly true. I know you're hiding something and you have a purpose. As evasive as it is, I will eventually find out. It's just a matter of time."

He paused, a serious thought colouring his face. "That being said...I don't think you're a bad person. You wouldn't have saved me otherwise."

"Did it occur to you that I might have done that for myself and not you?" She retorted coolly.

"No. There was no mistaking the look of pure horror on your face when I was shot. That was your natural reaction. Call it my eye for detail, but the moment you started feeding me, that's when I sensed the change...it almost felt as though you were enjoying it."

She was quiet but deep down inside, she knew what he said was true. She had indeed been terrified when he got shot, fearing the worst but those feelings had dissipated gradually at the sight of him bleeding - and she knew precisely why.

"It appears I've hit the mark darling," he conjectured shrewdly.

"No.. I'm done with your nonsensical rubbish. Have a nice day spinning your fantasies." She remarked sardonically and began to leave .

For a third time, he reached out for her hand again, and clasped it albeit gently.

Finally losing her cool, she yelled out loud, her shrill voice breaking the calm of the morning, her face flushing beetroot red, “I must have been a truly horrible person in my past life, to have been cursed with your continued presence in this one!”

With all her strength, she shook away his large hand and he backed off, chuckling hard.

“Aw~ You know you love me," he trilled, his mirthful laughter ringing in the air, "You forgot the teacup. By Jove! We don't want Sebastian scolding you for leaving it here, do we now dear?"

Provocatively, he took a sip out of the leftover tea from the same teacup, a smug, devilish grin curving his mouth. His lips touched the same spot on it where Magnolia's lips had touched it minutes ago. Fully aware of the innuendo behind his gesture, he winked at her unabashedly. She stared daggers at him but to no avail.

Careful not to drop the teacup in her exasperation, she took it from him carefully. Turning her back to him promptly while he watched in amusement, she rushed back into the mansion, vowing not to see him again the entire day, her face set ablaze with emotions.

Secretly though, she felt the skin of her hand that he had touched tingle and burn quite pleasurably and the feeling warmed her heart.

[to0thach3]

glowing, pt. 2

pt. 1,   pt. 2,   pt. 3,   pt. 4,   pt. 5,   pt. 6,   pt. 7

"You made it!" MC exclaimed with bright eyes, watching as Julian's tall figure rounded the path of the palace gardens. "I was beginning to think you were ditching me."

Heat raced up Julian's face, tinting his ears. He tried to regulate his breathing to cool himself down, but that just brought his attention to the prickling feeling in his lungs. "Ah, never. A person'd have to be crazy to stand you up."

The smile on MC's face widened, and she grabbed Julian's wrist to pull him down beside her. Usually, she preferred to sit on the edge of the fountain, but she'd dragged Julian onto the ground a few feet away from the marble fixture. He studied her, the way the light broke into pieces against her face, shattered by the leaves above them; the way her legs stretched out in front of her, her toes and fingers digging into the muddy ground. The earth stained the sheer layers of fabric that made up her skirt, but even the dirt couldn't cover up the ring glinting on her left hand.

"Nadia's gonna kill me," she laughed, following Julian's gaze. "Empress knows how long this damn thing took to make. Probably should've gone with pants today." She looked back up at him. "What's with the face? Come one, don't think I haven't noticed you avoiding me."

His heart sped up. He'd barely said two words to MC since the engagement, preferring to keep himself locked up in his room, screaming and crying and choking as the pile of petals on his floor grew larger. Unnaturally golden, some tipped in fuchsia, and each emitting a soft glow when the sun set. More beautiful than anything he'd seen in all his travels, save for the thin layer of blood that coated each flower.

"Have you been feeling okay? Every time I see you lately, you look even thinner." Her eyebrows knit, forming a deep crease at the center of her forehead. "You're always welcome to dinner at the shop, or here at the palace. And I'm sure Portia's always more than happy to have you at the cottage."

He tried not to flinch away from her as she brought a hand up to his face. "And have you been sleeping? Your eyes are red." She brushed her thumb in a soft arc above his cheekbone. "And you have dark circles. Honestly, Jules. I'm getting worried."

"Don't be," he said hurriedly. "I just haven't been feeling tip-top. It's flu season, you know."

MC raised an incredulous eyebrow. "It's not, but alright. Listen, Julian..." She trailed off uncertainly, like she wasn't sure if she should continue. "I just- I know we haven't been talking as much lately, and I'm sorry. I know it's my fault. After everything with Lucio, we stopped spending as much time together and I know it's because I moved back in with Asra. I really am sorry. I thought, well...

"I've been thinking... Asra'd like to keep some traditions in the ceremony, and he's asking Muriel to stand beside him at the altar. And... I know we haven't known each other as long as they have, and I know you might not want to, but I don't consider anyone a closer friend than you. Do you think you'd like to stand up there with me?" She couldn't keep eye contact with him, breaking away after every few words to stare at the sky or the grass or the water, only to look back at him before the next sentence.

Julian opened his mouth to respond, to ease her nerves, and... nothing. He couldn't find the words, couldn't trust himself to say anything without bursting into a coughing fit.

MC's eyes widened before filling quickly with tears. She looked away from him, laughing sharply and bringing a hand to her face. "Oh. Oh, of course. Yeah, just forget I asked. It was a dumb idea anyway and I shouldn't have even asked that of you." Her voice broke on the last few words, and she moved to stand back up. "Gods, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have put you in such an awkward position, anyway. I-I'm just gonna head back to the library. I'm... sorry, Julian."

And she left.

Julian watched her rush back to the palace, and didn't miss the way her body seemed to crumple in on itself the farther away she got. He wanted so, so badly to follow her, to tell her he'd do whatever she wanted him to if it made her happy. But his mouth filled with petals, and he could not speak.

[imagine-zen]

Could I request a headcannon of the RFA+Saeran+V getting caught under the mistletoe with MC. Maybe they get a little flustered when MC kisses them or maybe they initiate it (it's up to you) ps I love your writing!

Right, I lovethis, but I have absolutely no idea how mistletoe lives in the wild, so, ifthere are any factual inaccuracies what am I say, there’s 100% some pls letthem slide and don’t yell at me, I’m sensitive and just wanna write cuteromance

Also some ofthese might not be 100% REAL mistletoe but like, mistletoe shaped, hope that’sokay :)

Jumin

The two ofyou are throwing a holiday party at Jumin’s condo

It’s a smallparty, just RFA members and close friends

You’re havinga fun time, but still, you’re running around keeping track of food and how theguests are

You take amoment in the kitchen, eating some food, sipping some wine

You’re notstressed, but it’s nice to step back and just breathe, watch your guests enjoythemselves

You feelJumin approach you from behind, his warmth a comfort

Leaning back againsthim, you feel one of his arms stretch up and around you

You glance upand see a small, dark green sprig, adorned with soft white berries

“Mistletoe?”You ask, tilting your head back to smile at him

“Tis theseason” He hummed, a soft smile spread across his face

His handtugged on your hip gently and you turned around to face him, leaning up to kisshim

Your lipshave barely met before you hear Zen fake gagging

You chuckleas Jumin pulls you closer, starting to argue with the actor

Zen

You’rejogging with him one winter morning

The sun’sstill rising, its rays glinting off of the thin coatings of ice along branches

There’s alight layer of snow across the ground, though the path the two of you arerunning on is clear already from even earlier morning joggers

Zen suggestsa pause at an upcoming sitting spot along the trail

It’suntouched in the brisk air, snow lining blades of grass, a bench topped withsnow

You pull yourwater bottle out of backpack, enjoying the quiet beauty of the woods thatmorning, your cheeks stinging and your nose warm

“It’s gorgeousout this morning,” You comment, turning to look at Zen

“Everymorning with you is gorgeous,” He says while stepping closer to you

He smiles,tucking a strand of hair that had come loose from your ponytail behind yourear. “Wanna know why I suggested we pause here?”

Your cheeksare red for more than your run or the chilled air. “Why?”

He leans hisface in, pausing centimeters from your face as his eyes dart up above you

Turning yourhead slightly, you see a bushel of thin, green leaves poking out from beneath asnow coat

You have timeto identify the plant before Zen tilts your chin up and your mind is occupiedby the feeling of his lips against yours

Yoosung

“So, what doyou think?” You ask, glancing at him

He squints,thinking. “I think,” He nods his head subtly, raising his hand to point. “Yeah,let’s go with this one.”

You grin,picking up the fuchsia plant from the garden store’s shelf

“What’s next?”He asks, leaning against your shoulder to get a glimpse of the “to-get” listyou wrote up together last night

“Let’s see,we’ve gotten a good amount of flowering plants, wanna check out some herbs orfruits?”

“Soundsperfect.”

While walkingpast the row of herbs lined up, thinking about which ones you and Yoosung usemost in cooking, you pause, recognizing the bundles of freshly cut branches beingdisplayed above the potted herbs

You grin,grabbing a cutting of mistletoe and going over to Yoosung on the other side ofthe cart

You tap hisshoulder, pressing a kiss to his lips as he turns

His face goesflush and he goes to adjust his glasses. “Wh-what was that for?”

You wave themistletoe as an answer. “Found some mistletoe, I had to.”

He breaks outinto a grin. “Don’t you have to be underneath the mistletoe to- you know?”

“Ah,” youglance at the plant then back to Yoosung, raising your arm to hold themistletoe over your heads. “You’re right, I guess we’ll have to try again,” Humming,you lean close to him once more

Jaehee

You’rehumming along to the radio, the kitchen lit with a warm glow from the lightsabove and out in the main room of the café

Jaehee comesback in, tying an apron around her waste

You laugh, “I’mjust about to finish up, you don’t need an apron.”

“It’s bettersafe than sorry,” She responds, flashing you a smile as she steps closer

She inhales throughher nose, the air full of sweetness

“They smelldelicious, right?” You say

“Hopefullythey’ll taste just as good,” She responds, flicking on the oven light andbending down to look at the cookies

“Your recipesare always amazing, don’t worry so much.”

The two ofyou continue chatting, you crack open the oven every minute or so to check onthe cookies before deciding they’re done and pulling them out to cool

“Oh!” Jaeheeexclaims, “You shaped them!”

“Yeah, I thoughtit’d be good; you know, ginger cookies during the winter, might as well have atheme, right?”

Jaehee nods,smiling as she looks at the mistletoe shaped cookies. “It’s a perfect idea”

“I have aneven better one,” You announce, picking up one by the edges and blowing on itbefore holding it out to Jaehee.

She leansforward, her face flushed ever so slightly, and takes a careful bite

She nods,chewing, and you can see her thinking of ways to improve on her recipe already

You leanforward, kissing her cheek softly

Her eyeswiden as she looks at you, and you decide she’s never looked more beautiful,with gentle golden light falling on her face and hair, a few crumbs on the cornerof her mouth, her eyes full of you

“Goodcookies?” You ask, leaning back a bit

She nods,trying – unsuccessfully – to hide the smile spreading across her face

Seven

The doorbellchimes and you lean back to glance at the door monitor

Mail man.

You grin,jumping out of your chair and navigating past the security to the entrance, signingfor the package and running back inside

You open thesmall package as soon as you shut the door, glancing around to make sure Seven hasn’tmoved

Holding thegift behind your back, you make your way into Seven’s computer room

His back istowards you, computer alert noises coming from one screen, game notificationsfrom another, some kind of radio can be heard faintly from the earbud danglingfrom its partner in Seven’s ear

“What came inthe mail?” He asks, the clack of his keyboard barely audible through the restof the sounds

“Oh, there’ssomething for,” You answer, walking up behind him

You lean overhis back, keeping the object behind your back for now

He tilts hishead back, smiling up at you. “Oh? What is it?”

You grin, movingthe small plushie you bought up and over your head

The plushiewas a mistletoe sprig, but the berries were little cat heads

“A kiss,” Youhum, moving to kiss him

Upside downkisses are always awkward, but worth it

Saeran

You’re on awalk together during a fall afternoon

For someonewith so much information, he knew little about plants

You, on theother hand, had been a plant lover since you were small

So, the twoof you like to take walks, Saeran will point out different plants and you tellhim about them

It’s a funtest for you, getting to practice what you know, and he likes listening to you

At this point,there’s not many plants that you haven’t talked about – well, not that many alongthis path

The walks arestill good though, you talk and get to be alone together

The two ofyou are passing some woods, his hand keeping yours warm

The coldearthy smell of fall surrounding you

You’relooking up at the sky and the trees next to the path when your eyes light upand you tug on Saeran’s hand

“Oh! See thatbundle of leaves along the branch there?” You ask, pointing towards the plant

Saeran nods,looking at you in confusion

“Well, it’scalled mistletoe, have you heard of it?”

He nods again.“It can help with arthritis, right?”

You blink,having forgotten that. “Yeah, yeah that’s true! I forgot that, good job.”

He smiles,glancing down. “Well, if you weren’t thinking that, what were you going to say?”

“Right~ Yousee, there’s a tradition around mistletoe,” you start, tugging him closer to beingunder the mistletoe. “It’s supposed to represent love, so, when underneath anymistletoe, two people are supposed to kiss.”

As soon as youfinish your sentence, his eyes go wide and he glances up, then back to you. Hiseyebrows lower. “Really?”

You nod,miming an “x” on your chest. “Cross my heart.”

He seems tobe having trouble deciding if he was nervous or suspicious. “I mean – you saythat, and have just walked us underneath this plant…”

“Uh huh,” Yousay, stepping closer and leaning towards him slowly

His face wasstarting to match his ginger hair

“Are – isthis, do you want –?” He stammers, eyes now darting up and down

“If you wantto,” You hum, lowering your gaze to his lips

He gulps,staring at you before yanking you close and presses his lips to your, eyessquinted shut

You’re startledby his sudden movement but smile into the kiss, sliding your arms around himand holding him close

You’ve neverseen him this red before, and you can’t but chuckle, kissing his check

The two ofyou continue your walk, both smiling, your hands holding each other tightly

V

You frown, pickingthrough the bin full of props

“I don’t know,”You call out to V, who’s standing a few meters away at the photo stage fussingwith the set. “If you want a dappled shadow like that, I still think getting anactual branch and leaves would work best.”

He smiles atyou over his shoulder. “I’m sure you’re right, but I’d like distinct shadowsthat the faux plants make.”

Nodding, youplunge deeper, exclaiming as you find something that might work. “How aboutthis?” You ask, heading back over and waving the prop over your head

“Perfect!” Hesaid, taking the fake plant from you as you get to him

He hums, examiningthe mistletoe before eyeing with a soft smile. “This is good for more thanphotos, you know?”

“Oh? How so?”You ask, leaning against him as he wraps a hand around your waist

“Like this,”

You giggle asV pulls away from the kiss, his face suddenly nervous and shy

You placeyour hands on the sides of his face, pushing his glasses up to the top of hishead. “You’re right, that has many uses.” You hummed before pulling him back

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Lullaby

Keanu Reeves x reader (A/n- We’ve spent way too much time in Greece, so have this time jump, sorry not sorry. This was so bad, I can’t even.) (Chapter Summary- One month after Greece, Y/n and Keanu have fallen out of contact, but one night spent in separate states can change things.)

Chapter1  Chapter2  Chapter3  Chapter4  Chapter5  Chapter6  Chapter7  

Warnings- SMUT//NSFW-> masturbation/co-masturbation, sexting/phone sex. (As you can see, this series is just an excuse for me to write Keanu porn.)

Chapter 8

One month Later Greece had been a month ago. It had also been a month since Y/n last saw Keanu; before they had parted ways, he had told her he’d be filming for a while New York. Despite having exchanged numbers, the pair hadn’t made plans to see each other again and they hadn’t even stayed in contact. As a result, Y/n had passed off their steamy week as nothing more than a fling and had gone back to her life; working and going out with Jillian when she could, leaving with whoever had caught her attention. 

Admittedly none had come close to being as skilled as Keanu, though one came close. There was just something about Keanu hands on her, his quiet confidence and they way he could take control with out Y/n even realizing it. Part of her missed him. Okay, most of her missed him. But alas, there was nothing she could do about it, he was in New York and hadn’t even sent as much as a text or left a voicemail. 

Y/n was at her parent’s place, home alone, well, not really alone considering that most of the staff was still there. Clad only in a pair of skimpy shorts and a silk camisole; she laid a top fluffy creamish-yellowish sheets that contrasted perfectly with the dark wood of her carved bedframe. Next to Y/n was her phone and the remote for the television that had been playing one of her favorite movies. Occasionally, she’d take a sip from her glass of Rosé and flip through her social media. Jillian had asked her to go out that night; she and Catharine, the only other one from their group that still lived in Los Angeles, were heading to a popular spot at Sunset Boulevard for drinks. But it was only Wednesday and Y/n had an early meeting the next morning. Besides, she was supposed to be packing. 

Stacked, against the walls were several half packed boxes, some with clothes, other with books, or beauty products and other little trinkets. Y/n was carded to move out from her parents house to her own place in Bel Air within the next moth, though by the rate she was packing at, she might be there for another two. The separation was merely a ten minute drive, still Y/n craved privacy and couldn’t wait till she as living at a place where she wouldn’t run into her parents making out in the kitchen.

With a huff, Y/n glanced at the brown cardboard boxes, briefly debating turning off the television and try to get some of it done. Though, the thought was fleeting when next to her, her face down cell vibrated, signaling and incoming text. 

“Hey,” was all it read; three simple letters from a formerly MIA Keanu. 

Scrunching her nose, she eyed the screen suspiciously, typing in reply, “Hi.”

Three little ellipses bounced in their place as Keanu typed his reply, “What’s up?”

The whole thing felt all too casual for two people who hadn’t seen each other in a month, but still, Y/n entertained him, it couldn’t hurt, right? “Nothing, just in bed, watching T.V.,” immediately after she tapped the little ‘send’ arrow, Y/n sent another, though shorter, message, “You?”

“In bed?” Keanu sent, along with a winking face, completely ignoring her question, “All alone?”

So that’s what it was about.

Smiling slyly, Y/n scoffed, “Yupp. All alone.....” She followed it up with a frown.

Keanu’s response came a few seconds later, “Poor girl,” he sent and Y/n could almost imagine the drop in his voice if he were right there, saying it. A couple others came in after that; first; “Too bad I’m not there,” and then, “Why don’t you tell me what you’re wearing and we can pretend that I am?”

In the mood the tease, Y/n simply offered, “Nothing much, just shorts and a camisole.”

Keanu’s only response was a little yellow face with a down-turned, drawn on lip.

“What?” She giggled as she sent it, knowing what he had wanted in the first place.

“That’s not enough,” Keanu texted, “Send me a picture baby.”

Y/n took a minute to contemplate his request, eventually giving in. Hastily, she readjusted her top, pulling it down so the lace edging would rest right over her nipples. Then, she shoved the duvet down a bit, so her legs would be on display. Finding the right angle took a hot minute, but Y/n somehow managed to get the perfect picture in about ten minutes, capturing everything from below her neck to just above her knees. 

After she sent the picture, Y/n let the phone fall to the sheets, grabbing up her glass and taking slow sips as she awaited Keanu’s reaction. 

The folder that held his script laid, discarded on the coffee table in the living room of Keanu’s Brooklyn condo. He was sprawled on the sofa, phone in his lap as he took a swing of his beer. He had intended to spend his night off reading through his lines, preparing for his next scene, but somehow, his thoughts had travelled to Y/n. They hadn’t been in touch since they parted ways after the end of her week in Greece. Keanu didn’t know why he hadn’t called, sometimes he had wanted to, but in the end something else would come up, and he’d just push the idea aside.

He had been caught up with filming anyway; too busy for otherwise, at least that’s what he told himself. Keanu had stayed away, but that night, when a random thought of Y/n popped up in his head, his mind racing back to hours spent with her in his hotel room in Greece, he couldn’t help but itch for some kind of contact with her. His intentions were crude, selfish and sinful, but still, like an immature asshole, he texted Y/n at near midnight, her time, hoping that she was still up. 

Going into it, Keanu didn’t even know what he should have expected, for all he knew, she could just tell him to go to hell, though, when his messages grew subtly suggestive, Y/n didn’t seem to mind. 

He had just asked her to send a picture and while she had read the text, nothing else came through. For a brief moment, Keanu figured that he had upset her with too much too soon, though, when she finally replied, he was far from disappointed. 

Setting the amber tinted bottle down next to his open script, he opened her message, smiling at what she had sent, feeling himself stir at the sight of her. Like she had told him, Y/n really was dressed in shorts and a camisole, though the racy picture was far better than her purposefully vague description. The ‘shorts’ fit her more like boyshort panties; grey cotton with darker bands of broad lace at the legs and waist band. From the way she had laid, he could see the curve of her perfect ass and he so badly wanted to squeeze and knead the flesh, maybe while she sat facing him in his lap. Y/n’s fuchsia pink, silk camisole loosely hugged her body, tighter around the area of her plump breasts. The ‘v’ of black lace trimming resting on low on the swell of her cleavage and the teasing protrusions of her nipples just below it easily catching Keanu’s attention.

Absently, Keanu stroked himself through his sweats, already semi-hard from just seeing her like that. Quickly, he typed a one handed reply, “So fucking sexy. If only I were there.....”

Almost immediately after, Y/n sent back, “I thought we were pretending that you were?” And before Keanu could think of a response, Y/n texted again, “Show me how sexy you think I am.”

Huffing a chuckle, Keanu felt almost ridiculous; taking a picture of the tent in his sweat pants. Still, he sent the picture and after a couple beats, Y/n asked, “All that for me?” 

“You have no idea sweetheart,” Keanu typed, “There’s so much I want to do with that pretty little pussy.”

“Oh yeah?” Y/n challenged, “What would you start with?”

“Tasting it,” Keanu smirked as the message went through. He could tell he had her full attention by then; his texts were read instantly and her replies were quick. “Getting you out of those panties and running my tongue up you’re cunt.”

Y/n involuntarily pressed her thighs together. Sexting had never had that kind of tingling effect on her, and if it ever did, it certainly wasn't that soon. Maybe, it was because Y/n could almost imagine Keanu with his head between her legs, eating her out until she came all over his face. Or maybe it was because he had given her enough vivid memories to work with during their week in Greece. Whatever the reason, it had Y/n ‘s fingers creeping down her body, gently rubbing herself through the cotton of her panties, the fabric in the center slowly damping. 

“Too bad you’re so far away,” Y/n actually pouted as she sent the text, adding; “I’m already so went for you. For your tongue, and your cock”

For the first time since their conversation had started, Keanu’s response was delayed; three little dots in the blue bubble appearing and reappearing before they disappeared and then, he left her on seen. With a huff, Y/n flopped into a laying position, annoyed. Though it didn’t last long as her phone lit up, ringing as Keanu’s name flashed across the screen.

“Keanu,” she breathed, her voice husky, “Texting’s not enough?”

“I hate texting,” he grunted, “Now; put me on speaker, take off your panties and touch yourself,” Keanu demanded roughly.

“Shouldn’t I lock the door?” The chances of Y/n being interrupted were slim, her parents weren’t in the country and the staff knew better than to barge into her bedroom unannounced. Still one could never be too careful.

“You should, but hurry up sweetheart,” As Y/n shuffled off her bed, padding barefoot towards the doors of her room, Keanu kept talking on his end, “You looked so fucking hot in that picture; you have no idea how much I wish I could be there, to feel that ass in my hands, and bury my face in your tits.”

Heat rose to Y/n’s cheeks, reddening her cheeks as she turned the gold colored lock, a distinct snap signaling that the door could no longer be opened. “Yeah? I wish you were here so you could ruin my cunt with your cock. I’ve missed your cock,” she grinned mischievously, getting out of her underwear before sliding back into bed. Briefly, Y/n turned on her side, tapping the screen, putting Keanu’s call on speaker, “I’m back,” she announced, eager for more instructions. 

“Good,” she could hear Keanu’s smirk, and his voice came loud and clear from the phone laying on the pillow next to her. She could hear him shifting around, adjusting himself as he repeated, “Now, touch yourself, start off nice and slow, with two fingers.”

Reaching between her legs, her nails raking her still clothed abdomen on its way there, Y/n made a ‘v’ with her index and her middle finger, rubbing gently until the lingering twinge of arousal intensified and growing moisture helped her fingers moved easily.

Keanu’s breathing was audible; rapid and shallow and Y/n wished she was there with his, able to see how he looked with his hand circled around his length, pumping at a rough pace.

Moaning quietly, Y/n’s free hand slipped under her top, shifting between palming her right breast and teasing her nipple. Her offending hand slid lower and Y/n eased two digits into her tightness, sighing frustratedly, knowing that the feeling was nothing compared to the one that accompanied Keanu being deep inside her. “How does it feel baby? Do you wish it were my cock instead?”

“Yes,” Y/n whined, her thumb occasionally brushing her cilt as she added a third finger moving in and out of her, “Fuck, yes!” She hissed loudly.

With her eyes screwed shut; Y/n’s imagination worked in over time; trying to convince her body that Keanu was there; on top of her, harsh thrusts pushing her frame into the mattress, his throat grunts and groan coming from the phone actually close to her ear, his hot breath fanning her cheek as he fondled her breasts.

“Ke....” she moaned after a while, “I’m close.”

Growling, Keanu hastily commanded, “Do it baby, cum for me.”

It took a bit more work, but eventually, Y/n’s orgasm was leaking out onto her fingers, during probably her most anti-climatic release ever. It was over before she could even really enjoy it and in the end, Y/n couldn’t help but feel at least a little disappointed. It wasn’t terrible, but she was sure that if Keanu was actually there, it would have been much more enjoyable.

Keanu didn’t seem much more enthused when his breathing grew ragged and he came with a frustrated grunt.

Settling, Y/n turned on her side staring at her phone, “That was......” There were no words.

“Yeah....” Keanu managed, blowing a breath, he couldn’t really recall the last time he had had such unsatisfying sex. Though, he guessed it didn’t really count, considering it was actually sex with himself featuring Y/n. Leaning his head back on the upholstered arm of the long sofa, Keanu sighed as he listen to Y/n’s steady breathing.

Slowly, an idea started turning in his head and Keanu sat up abruptly, “Y/n, I have to go.”

She made a whining noise in her throat, scoffing, “Is this the phone-sex equivalent to ‘wam bam thank you ma’am’?”

Chuckling, Keanu started cleaning himself using tissues from the box on the end table behind them, “It’s not, don’t worry. But I really need to get going. Talk soon sweetheart,” and before Y/n could even say goodnight, Keanu was hanging up.

Sitting up, Keanu pulled himself, and his pants, together and then snatched his phone up again. Scrolling until he found the contact he had been searching for, he hit call and waited until she answered, “Amanda,” he greeted curtly, “Sorry for waking you,” he was actually surprised that she was asleep, considering that it was only nearing eleven pm there. Then again, he supposed that not everyone was wide awake at that time looking for a quick phone fuck.

“Ke-” She quickly caught herself, sounding groggy and half asleep, “Mr. Reeves, what can I do for you?”

“I need you to get me on tomorrow’s earliest flight to Los Angeles. Can you do that?” There was an urgency in his tone that seemed to wake her even further.

It took her a minute, but Amanda eventually answered, “I think so. But you’re due on set tomorrow, are you sure you want to just fly out like that?”

“I have to,” he lied easily, his logic out ruled by his need to see Y/n, to make up for that night, “Something just came up.”

Realizing that her boss wasn’t going to get into it, Amanda just acknowledged her understanding, “Okay. I’ll go book the flight not and send you the details. Should I arrange for a car to pick you up tomorrow and then after your flight.”

“Yeah,” he huffed, walking towards his bedroom.

“Is that all Mr. Reeves?” Already, Keanu could hear the keys on her laptop making little clicking noises, signaling that Amanda had already gotten to work.

“It is. Thank Amanda,” Keanu offered, moving to refill a duffle bag that he had discarded in the corner of the room upon his arrival, “Goodnight.”

Hanging up, Keanu tossed the phone onto the bed, sighing in relief; by midday Thursday, he should be in Los Angeles, with Y/n. 

**********

Tagging- @harrisongslimited​ @a-really-bi-girl​ @paanchu786​ @baphometwolf666

[beingevil]

if there be thorns, Guardian Yang AU

title: if there be thorns 

pairing: none here 

Rating and warnings: Gen

author’s notes: In honour of a very special day, for Neon’s Guardian Yang AU. You can read it on Ao3 here!

summary:  Annerose POV,  set largely after Yang goes missing.

 So it is now, months away from Reinhard’s arrest, that she recognises the look in Reinhard’s eyes as he descends from the carriage. She has known her brother from the day he was born, she knows his hundred different tells better than anyone else: 

wordcount: 1690 words 

Even the Kaiser’s palace walls cannot keep the whispers out.

When Reinhard was taken into custody after the attempted assassination, Friedrich kept that knowledge from her, whether out of a misguided sense of kindness, or to keep her sweet and compliant – she did not know, and it made little difference either way.

 His court had no such reservations.

 It is Benemunde who first springs the knowledge on her like a steel trap, gleefully detailing how Reinhard had been taken away in chains, fighting the guards like a mad dog.

 It had taken much to listen with a pleasant, detached interest, to nod and smile, to thank Benemunde for telling her how Reinhard was getting along.

 Perhaps if it appeared she did not care, she would be less of a weapon against Reinhard.

 There is little enough she can do in the Kaiser’s grasp, but she can do her utmost not to be turned into a weapon against her brother.

 Life under her father’s hand had taught her all too well not to show weakness, and here in the Kaiser’s court of vipers she knows she needs every lesson she learned and more.

 She finds a quiet joy in Benemunde’s dissatisfaction, knowing she had denied the Marquise her satisfaction, as the other woman storms off, loudly calling her a disgrace.

 After all, she learned long ago never to act as if the names hurt her.

So it is now, months away from Reinhard’s arrest, that she recognises the look in Reinhard’s eyes as he descends from the carriage. She has known her brother from the day he was born, she knows his hundred different tells better than anyone else: the haunted circles around his fever-bright eyes, the rigid set of his mouth before he shapes it into a brittle smile for her and everyone watching.

 It seems he has dressed today with little care for how he looks. His blue coat seems carelessly rumpled, and the edges of his cuffs appear to have been worried at.

She knows why. His life has been transformed since they last met. 

The Kaiser’s walls had not kept those rumours out either.

The cravat around his neck is at odds with his ensemble, its cut a little too old. It must have been cream-coloured, once, but time has turned it off-white and its best days are clearly far behind it.

 Her musings on Reinhard’s odd sartorial choices on this day is interrupted by his approach.

 She puts her arms around him as he nears her. “I’m sorry,” she whispers into his ear, hidden from the guards by the crook of her arm and the curve of his shoulder. When his arms close convulsively around her, she has never more wished to be able to speak freely to her brother. But they are ever under the gaze of the Kaiser’s men, and both of them know to be careful.

 Yang had been good for him, Reinhard’s complaining about his strange ways and fussiness notwithstanding. It had been good fortune that Annerose had learned long ago not to expect for either of them.

 She had thought that the savage wildness in Reinhard calmed, however momentarily, during his time with Yang. At their last meeting, she had smiled to herself as her wilful brother poured Yang tea as if he had done it a thousand times, even as he complained to her about how Yang couldn’t do a thing for himself, not even getting up in the morning.

 Then Reinhard had reached out and adjusted Yang’s cravat over Yang’s feeble protests – it had gone askew somehow – all the while deploring his choice in clothing and chiding him for not paying heed to Reinhard’s suggestions for suitable palace fashion.

 She had liked him, the quiet unassuming man whom court politics had unexpectedly thrust into their lives. She too knows what it is like to be plucked from the world you knew and thrown in the midst of a court where every smile could hide a dagger. She liked that Yang never made it seem like he expected anything of her or Reinhard, not even conversation, for even silence was comfortable around him.

 Above all, she appreciated that Yang was a safe pair of hands for her brother. It did not escape her that Reinhard, in his own way, turned towards Yang like a flower to the sun. She had thought it was good that finally, Reinhard had an adult in his life that he could trust.

 But Yang is gone now.

 And in her brother’s place is a wild creature that looks out at Annerose from behind his fevered blue eyes.

 She leads Reinhard to the conservatory, where heliotrope blooms in dreamy violet clouds. Deep magenta fuchsia hang their heavy lantern blossoms from the trellises, vivid petals tumbling down the conservatory walls. Hydrangeas unfurl their storied petals here, and honeysuckle trumpets grace the air with their sweet fragrance.

 Over and under it all, the scent of the Kaiser’s prized roses perfume the air. Summer is approaching its peak and so are they, petals of the deepest crimson, the palest pink, the purest white all unfolding to the air.

 Reinhard barely seems to notice. He is standing right next to her, but he might as well be a thousand miles away.

 In a way, he is.

 Never has she more regretted that they cannot speak freely here.

 She pours him tea, amber liquid swirling in its gilded cup. He glances once at it and not again, and she knows then who he must be thinking of.  

 Under the table, she reaches out and takes his hand.

 His nails are ragged to the touch, and there are healing scars scattered across the back and sides of his hand, recalling to her the destructive rages he would fly into as a child. How many fragile things already been consigned to his rages?

 How much more could he bear before he too would shatter?

 He rests his cheek on his hand, the very picture of an indolent, spoiled noble.

 “The weather is so very hot recently,” he says. “Sister, I do think that the next two or three weeks would be a perfect time for a sojourn into the mountains. I hear Freuden would be a wonderful place.”

 The question is in her eyes as she smiles at him, wondering what game he intends to play this time.

 “Did you not summer there last year?” He continues, without waiting for her answer, “If you go, I may join you there too.”

 Under the table, his hand tightens almost convulsively on hers.

 She laughs gently to give herself time to respond.

 “Dear Reinhard, whatever it is you wish, I shall certainly endeavour.”

 “Do,” he says, and his fingers once again close, painfully tight, around hers.

 She knows for certain then that he has no intention of joining her there.

 When he takes his leave from her, he rests her head on her shoulder for a moment, and he is her brother Reinhard once again, running into her arms with skinned knees and bruised knuckles from yet another fight.

 But her brother fights different battles now, far beyond the schoolyards of their childhood years.

 This time he is wounded with hurts she cannot heal.

 She would like to believe that he can draw strength from her presence like this.

 She embraces him and strokes his hair gently. Briefly, his shoulders shake as she holds him.

 It is all the emotion he allows himself in her presence that day.

 “Be well,” she says, reluctantly releasing him.  

 “Always,” he answers, smiling.

 There is a strange fey light burning in his eyes, one she knows too well.  

 He takes his leave, striding to his carriage without looking back.

 Never once has Yang’s name crossed their lips.

 She wonders what her brother has become, what new creature birthed in tragedy and resolve now loosed upon Odin, planning his vengeance.

 It is then that she remembers where she had last seen the cravat around Reinhard’s neck.

 It had been around Yang’s neck.

 They had laughed, all three of them together, on that day a lifetime ago.

 She sleeps poorly that night. Soon after midnight, she wakes to watch the moon traverse the sky until the dawn greets her weary eyes.  

A week later, as Reinhard has asked – no sooner, so as not to arouse suspicion – she seeks the Kaiser’s leave to holiday in the Freuden mountains, away from the summer heat.

The Kaiser grants her request, of course. She asks him for so little, after all.

 Here, where mountain ranges cradle her villa, alpine springs feed the lush green gardens and their wildflowers.

 Though she has been here before with the Kaiser, the silence feels different this, portentous as it weighs on her shoulders. There is bite in the cool winds as they tug at her skirts and echo through the ravines.

 She waits for news, but never expected it to come on wings this swift.

 Even guarded in the heart of the mountain fastness, the news reaches her, through the newspapers and the whispers from the villa’s servants.

 The capital has been plagued by a sudden rash of unexplained accidents and deaths – odd, for their frequency and occurrence, amongst the mid-ranking military and minor nobles. Stabbed, shot, poisoned – they meet their end through means as varied as their victims.

 Annerose is not naïve enough to fail to see Reinhard’s hand in this – the timing, the coincidence, fits all too well.

 A mysterious letter arrives at Neue Sanssouci which evidently threatens her safety, the Kaiser has her guard doubled as a result and asks her to be watchful. He has decided she is safer in the mountains than she is in the palace, a decision she knows Reinhard arrived at weeks ago.

 Her heart aches for her brother even as she wonders about his purpose – are all these deaths to lay at a dead man’s feet? Yang would never have wanted this for him.

 One day a letter from Reinhard arrives, and in its wake, when she returns to the heart of Odin, everything has changed.

[thebibliomancer]

Shadows of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 22

Shadows of the Dark Crystal by J.M. Lee because OHGOSH the Skeksis are evil?!

Last times on book: Naia’s quest to prove brother Gurjin’s innocence has brought her to the Castle of the Crystal despite numerous warnings by Tavra and misgivings from Kylan. In the castle she sees the Skeksis acting defensive and evasive and the castle staff oddly zombie-esque. Oh, also they confess that they’re super evil and capture Tavra. Yeah.

Chapter 24

Naia finds Gurjin. Things get complicated.

Naia starts heading upward into the castle because the Crystal showed her that Gurjin was being kept in one of the towers.

With the help of Neech, the shoulder eel, Naia finds the right tower.

Iron cages holding Gelfling lined every wall within the cell. Most captives huddled in the cramped space with their arms wrapped about their knees, while others leaned against the rusty bars. Some were alive -- she heard shallow, labored breathing and quiet little whimpers. Some lay so still they were certainly unconscious, if not gone altogether.

Geez.

None moved but a twitch when she entered, and she thought perhaps they were sleeping, but when the faint light from the hallway touched the face of one prisoner nearby, she saw his eyes were milky and vacant, like the Podling slaves... like the Nebrie.

Geez!

I think in comparison, exploding when drained might actually be the better outcome??

Naia finds Gurjin locked in a wooden crate looking... bad.

The croaking voice was almost lost in its fragility, but the timbre in it brought tears to Naia’s eyes. Crouched in a wood crate in the far corner, nearly hidden by shadows, was a haggard Gelfling with gray-tinged Drenchen skin and thick locs pulled into a bun at the back of his head. So much of his natural bulk was gone, leaving him thin and bony like a child. He twisted, holding on to the thick wood and pressing his face between the slats to get a better look at her. His voice was muffled and weak, but it was definitely Gurjin.

“Naia? Is that really you?”

“Gurjin,” she breathed. “You’re all right. You’re all right!”

“All right?” he repeated with a little cough. “I’ve been tossed in a bin like a noggie husk.”

Heh. I can hear this last line in Gurjin’s voice.

Naia breaks Gurjin out with the Totally Sweet Metal Dagger. But Gurjin has been locked up for days with no food and the Skeksis have been drugging him with moonberry. Which is called a sleep-flower.

Learning about botany today.

Gurjin is so weak that Naia has to bear most of his weight. And she realizes that even if she could get the other cells open, she couldn’t possibly carry them all.

Gurjin shook his head. His voice was so soft, it was hardly recognizable.

“They’re already drained. It’s too late.”

Naia didn’t know what he meant by drained, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. The awful fact was, they didn’t have time. If she wanted to help the silent dull-eyed Gelfling, she would have to save herself first.

“We’ll just have to come back for them,” she said, determined. “We’ll come back.”

Oof, really kicking up the horror of the drained from the movies. We don’t see much of that in Age of Resistance because of the aforementioned exploding.

She’ll also have to come back for Tavra because she can only support exactly one Gurjin. She is but one girl and nobody told her to bring a wheelbarrow.

Then there’s a gust of wind from the tower stairway. Someone is coming up. And Naia smells something that she realizes is Gelfling essence. (Dunno how she knows what that smells like.)

The Skeksis in black that was staring at Naia in the dining hall comes up the stairs. Being a bit... dramatic.

“One and two,” he purred. He jabbed a finger first at Naia and then at her brother. “Two, but one. Two, one... twin. Had the one and been waiting for the second. Now we have her! Oh, have been waiting for this wonderful night!”

“skekMal,” Gurjin whispered. “No...”

“Now, come. Closer. End this now, skekMal will do. Time for special draining of twin Gelfling. Waiting so long! skekTek the Scientist says may make a special essence for Emperor. Ha! Not if skekMal make and take it for himself.”

You’re dropping a lot on me all of a sudden, book!

So the weirdo in the dining hall was the Hunter? He ran ahead into the castle to sit down at dinner and pretend he was there all along?

And also that the Skeksis have apparently been doing the draining thing long enough that they know that twins are special? Or... I don’t know how to interpret this at all.

This is really a different take on the Hunter. He’s more tricksy, camp, and more willing to deal with the other Skeksis’ bullshit.

I guess he mostly just stomps around the Dark Woods and then goes back home for dinner.

Huh.

The Hunter tosses a partially-drained Tavra on the stairway like a broken bag of potatoes.

A couple of things come together in Naia’s brain. The Hunter was waiting for her. The Emperor asking if Naia was the one they were waiting for. Why Tavra seemed insistent on bringing Naia to Ha’rar in the first place.

“You knew?” Naia whispered.

“I knew they wanted you. I didn’t know why. When I found out, I tried to make it right. I tried to stop you, in the wood, but you followed me here anyway. I’m so sorry.”

Despite the distant sense of betrayal, Naia felt the pain in the soldier’s confession, and then the urgency in the three words that followed:

“Warn the others.”

The Hunter yells that no one warns anyone and just grabs Tavra and starts shaking the age of resistance out of her.

He drops the unmoving Tavra on the stairs and comes for Naia. She holds the Sweet Actual Metal Dagger at the ready but the Hunter just laughs.

“Hard to fight while carrying stone,” skekMal cackled.

It was the grim truth: There was no way she could carry Gurjin and fight at the same time. Letting go of the knife would leave her defenseless, but she would not let go of her brother. But perhaps...

Now the Hunter waits behind him...

He knows not what lies below him...

Who said songs never teach you anything?

Naia tosses the dagger out the window behind her. Which confuses the Hunter. But like in Kylan’s story, Naia listens for the splash and then jumps out the window pulling Gurjin after her.

Which makes the Hunter shriek, probably in ‘ffs not again’

She felt a rush of wind and a blossom of pain in her back and shoulders as the updraft hit them. Naia closed her eyes and prayed, bracing herself for the impact of the water, hoping it could cushion their fall enough to save their lives. Expecting freefall, she clung to Gurjin and prepared for the fast drop to the castle moat. Its thick waters were quiet - save for the single wet splash it had offered when Gurjin’s knife had struck from above.

But they weren’t falling. Instead, their descent was light and airy, like a plumed seedpod drifting on the wind. Looking over her shoulder, Naia saw skekMal hunched in the window of the castle, screeching madly after them, and then she saw them -- felt them.

Black and iridescent, reflecting the light of the storm in vibrant blues and fuchsias, Naia’s wings held them afloat, high above the wood and away from the terrors within the Castle of the Crystal.

“Naia,” Gurjin said. “They’re beautiful...”

Wow!

I knew that all of Naia’s wing-longings were leading up to something and I still was surprised at this moment!

Wings know how to make an entrance!

Its like ‘oh we’re falling to our deaths? Time for wing-puberty!’

But if it had to be either something like this or Naia realizing at the end that wings would happen eventually... well, this was nice.

Of course, she’s not going to be flying on wings that just popped out but she just barely manages to fall with style enough to ensure they land in the moat.

Stunned after falling in the water, someone helps Naia and Gurjin out of the moat.

Naia turned to the one who had pulled her from the water -- had whistled the signal from below -- throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly.

“You shouldn’t have,” she whispered. “It’s dangerous -- they’re coming. The Skeksis --”

Kylan the Song Teller of Sami Thicket nodded, rising and helping her to her feet.

“Then we’d better move, hadn’t we?”

Awwwww! Best boy and best friend Kylan to the rescue! He just fell himself right back into the synopsis!

Naia tells Kylan that the Skeksis betrayed the Gelfling and that they have to tell the All-Maudra. Kylan tells her they need to make it to the Landstrider he left by the river.

Also, they apologize to each other for the fight. Aww, best friends.

But there’s a crash in the woods and they know that the Hunter is coming for them.

Gurjin pulls Naia into a hollow tree stump and Kylan follows. Gurjin tells Naia that he’s too weak and he can’t run. And unless skekMal is stopped, he will find and kill them. Because he’s too relentless and knows the woods too well.

“What... what are you saying?” she asked, though she knew the answer.

“We don’t have time. Dreamfast with me, now!”

Naia numbly took her brother’s hands when he reached out to her, and then all at once, every memory that lived within his mind crashed upon her.

Downloading his brain into her brain, huh?

Hey.

Uh.

I understand that this is a different continuity than the show so I’m kinda worried that Gurjin is going to die. It better not happen. Gurjin is rad. Naia has had such a hard journey with so many complicated emotions about her brother.

I’m just saying.

Don’t.

Do not.

[city-writes]

All That Glitters

As Durbe continues his impromptu journey with Rio and Ryoga, he learns more about them, including the fact that Mach - his partner, a shiny Rapidash - might not be the only ones Team Rocket could be after.

For @zexalmonth Day 20, the AU day!

Warning(s): Pokémon Trainer AU; Follow-up to this fic Pairing(s): N/A

Read it here on AO3! Commission Info!

_______________

It was growing late that day, the sun beginning to set as the sky began to gently dim. Durbe looked up at the multi-hued sky, a look of thought on his face as he and his companions - twin trainers Rio and Ryoga Kamishiro - made their way towards Fuchsia City. They had been traveling for a few days, Durbe having been the tie breaker between the arguing twins when each wanted to go a separate way: Ryoga to Fuchsia City, and Rio to Celadon City. Ultimately, Durbe had won both twins over by stating that there was a bike path that connected the two cities, and that even though none of them had a bike, they could probably get away with riding two at a time on Mach.

When Ryoga had asked if there was any other way, Durbe had given it a thought, before informing them about the waterways underneath the bike path, saying that if they had enough Water Pokémon between them, they could ride together that way.

Ryoga had looked a little apprehensive at that, but before Durbe could ask about it, Rio spoke up, saying that they could figure it out once they reached Fuchsia City.

That was a handful of days ago. They were so close to Fuchsia City, Durbe half considered walking a couple more hours so they could reach there instead of sleeping outdoors again. Not that he disliked camping with his new friends, but he had to admit, the thought of a mattress as opposed to a sleeping bag was ultimately more appealing. But he and the twins knew it wouldn't be that safe, trekking out while it was dark, so in the end, the three of them took a small detour towards some nearby trees, which looked over a small lake.

As they began setting up their dwellings for the night, Rio and Ryoga let out their Pokémon, to let them spend some time out of their Pokéballs. Durbe watched in amusement as Ryoga let his Magikarp and Greninja out at the lake, Ryoga's Magikarp splashing around happily. Three of his other Pokémon - Gallade, Garchomp, and Gliscor - were meandering around, checking out their surroundings.

Rio's Pokémon, on the other hand, were all staying by her for the most part. Her Alolan Vulpix was by her side as she was setting up her sleeping bag, and her Swablu and Weavile were in a nearby tree, Swablu being perched on a branch, and Weavile being high up, resting its back against the main part of the tree, while it sat on a thick branch. Her Kirlia was tailing Ryoga's Gallade, and her Froslass was swaying between the trees, presumably keeping an eye out for anything that could be perceived as a danger.

Durbe took it upon himself to do the same, letting out his Espurr, and Mach, a shiny Rapidash. Both Pokémon looked at him curiously, before Durbe spoke. "Go on, it's alright."

Mach was fairly quick to venture out on his own, lazily trotting a few paces away and stretching his legs. Espurr, on the other hand, totted over to Durbe, resting a paw on his pant leg. Durbe laughed gently, and nodded down at Espurr. "Ok, ok. You can stick with me." He leaned down slightly then, and whispered, "But stick close, ok? Let's not get you too close to Rio." Espurr nodded in return, the pair of them knowing about Rio's dislike of cat Pokémon.

As the three teens finished setting up their camp for the evening, Durbe noticed something off about the count of their Pokémon. He himself only had Mach and Espurr, a total of two Pokémon. Rio had her five, but at one point shortly after the three began traveling together, Ryoga had mentioned having a full team of Pokémon. So why was Durbe only counting five Pokémon from him? Stealing a glace over to Ryoga, who was settling his backpack by a tree next to his sleeping bag, Durbe counted the number of Pokéballs around his belt. Upon counting six, Durbe blinked, a look of confusion on his face.

"Hey, Ryoga."

Ryoga stood up straight at the sound of Durbe's voice, looking over to the other young man. "What?"

Durbe nodded in Ryoga's direction, looking towards his belt. "Don't you have a full team? Why keep one in its Pokéball?"

Ryoga looked a little hesitant, and looked down at his belt, frowning slightly. "I..." He folded his arms, shrugging slightly. "I'd just rather not let it out just yet."

A look of concern overcame Durbe, and his gaze traveled up to meet Ryoga's. "Is something wrong?" Espurr began toddling over to Ryoga at this point, though the two males kept talking.

"Nothing's wrong, Durbe, I just don't want to let this Pokémon out right now."

"Listen, if it's hurt or something, I have some berries and whatnot to help heal it."

"Durbe--"

The flash of light that accompanied a Pokémon being let out of it's Pokéball shone brightly from Ryoga's waist, as a decently large shadow made itself known in the water. Ryoga went wide-eyed as he looked down to his waist, only to find Espurr at his feet, the small, bipedal feline having used a small portion of its psychic energy to click open the Pokéball that housed his last Pokémon.

All the while this was happening, Rio was merely watching her two companions interact, and watched as Espurr had made its way to Ryoga, letting Ryoga's last Pokémon out of its Pokéball. She, as well as Durbe, looked to the water to see the large shadow that was now present. As Ryoga fumbled to get the Pokéball off of his belt in a hasty attempt to return his Pokémon, Rio approached the lake, and playfully called out, "Sharpedo!"

No sooner than she did that, a pointed purple dorsal fin poked out of the water, more and more of it emerging until the face of a purple Sharpedo with a yellow 'X' on its nose popped out of the water, a happy look gracing the shark Pokémon's face.

"A Sharpedo?" Durbe asked, walking closer to the lake. "I've never seen one in person before."

As Durbe approached the lake, Ryoga's Sharpedo stopped smiling, and glared pointedly at Durbe. It was enough to make the bespectacled male stop in his tracks, before Rio laughed and spoke to Sharpedo again. "Don't worry about him, Sharpedo. Durbe's a friend."

Sharpedo's eyes glanced from Rio, to Durbe, back to Rio again, before relaxing somewhat, allowing Durbe to step closer to the lake. Though as Durbe did, something 'clicked' in his mind. "Wait a second..." He looked over to Ryoga then, and spoke. "This is a shiny Sharpedo...?"

Ryoga, who had been trying to grab at his Sharpedo's Pokéball as it floated in the air thanks to Espurr playing with it using its psychic powers, turned to face Durbe, his lips forming a thin line. "..Yeah."

Durbe looked over Sharpedo once more, kneeling down by the lake as he watched Ryoga's Magikarp happily swam circles around Sharpedo. "I had no clue you also had a shiny Pokémon."

"Ever since coming to Kanto, I try not to flaunt him around." Ryoga murmured, trying once again to grab Sharpedo's Pokéball out of the air. He sighed as Espurr raised the Pokéball high above his head, then watched as the small feline Pokémon made its way to Durbe with Sharpedo's Pokéball. "As much as I love beating the crap out of some Team Rocket idiots, I don't want to lose my Sharpedo to them."

Durbe stood up as he watched Espurr trot over, Espurr mewling and tugging on Durbe's pants leg, plopping the Pokéball in his hands. Kneeling down, Durbe used one hand to pet Espurr's head before gently scolding it against teasing Ryoga like that. He then stood back up, looking at the Pokéball in his hand before looking back to Ryoga. "How long have you had your Sharpedo?"

"Sharpedo was actually my brother's first Pokémon." Rio piped up, taking her eyes off Ryoga's Pokémon in the lake to face Durbe and her brother. At this point, Espurr took the time to walk away from the three trainers, instead going to head towards Mach.

"It was a Carvanha back then." Ryoga explained, motioning for Durbe to toss the Pokéball back at him. Durbe complied, tossing the Pokéball in the air, Ryoga catching it with ease. "I fished alot back home in Hoenn. If I wasn't watching battles on TV or making plans for what I wanted my team to be for when I was finally old enough to be a trainer, I was fishing in the river by my parent's house."

"Every day, he'd fish up all sorts of Pokémon." Rio said, folding her arms. "But because he wasn't a certified trainer yet, he'd have to release them back into the water."

"Until one day," Ryoga smirked, "I reeled in a weird colored Carvanha. Instead of being dark blue and red, it was light blue and green. Not only that, but it was considerably smaller than the average Carvanha. I called my parents, thinking it was sick, but when my father came out to help me, he had me catch it, and said that it was a rare Pokémon, a shiny Pokémon."

"Wow..." Durbe muttered. "So, Sharpedo's been with you since the very beginning."

"Yep." Ryoga nodded, folding his arms as well. "From Hoenn, to Alola, to here. Unfortunately, with Team Rocket being known for stealing other people's Pokémon, I haven't been too fond of letting Sharpedo out when not in a safe area, like a Pokémon center, or a gym."

"I see." Durbe said, looking over to Mach, the equine Pokémon busy entertaining Espurr. "Perhaps I've been too relaxed with letting Mach out so often when we're on the road. I've been so used to him being out on the ranch all the time, that I didn't stop to consider the negative ramifications of him being exposed so much while traveling." A bit of an upset look came over him then. "I don't want to risk Will and Brooks taking him like they constantly tried to at the ranch."

Both twins blinked that the names, them sounding unfamiliar.

"Who are Will and Brooks?" Rio asked.

"The Team Rocket grunts you guys ran into the day we met." Durbe clarified, "Brooks was the female grunt, tall and skinny with short pink hair. Will was the male grunt, short and stocky with lime green hair."

"You actually know their names?" Ryoga asked, an amused look on his face.

"They've come after Mach so many times, my moms and I had heard them call each other by name before."

"Well, regardless of whatever those punks' names are," Ryoga continued, walking over to Durbe, unfolding his arms and placing one hand on Durbe's shoulder. "You shouldn't feel bad about thinking you've been 'too relaxed'. You and Mach are strong together, you've been able to defend yourselves from them." Ryoga gave a cocky smirk then, using the thumb on his spare hand to point at himself. "And besides, you've got me and Rio in your corner. We've got your back no matter what."

Durbe smiled at that, and nodded. "Thanks, Ryoga. I appreciate it."

Ryoga took his hand off of Durbe's shoulder then and began to walk to the lake, looking over his Sharpedo. "I suppose I could be a be more relaxed myself, huh buddy?" His response was a tooth-filled grin from his Sharpedo. "Alright then. You can spend the night in the lake with Magikarp and Greninja."

"I've got your back too, you know." Durbe said, smiling gently. "Mach and I will help you and Rio protect Sharpedo, too."

The two young men shared a look, and Rio smiled herself. "Well, I don't know about you guys," she began, walking in between the both of them and towards their campsite. "But it's about time we get dinner started."

At the mention of dinner, Durbe's stomach growled, and he let out an embarrassed chuckle. "Here, I'll help, Rio."

"I'll keep an eye on the Pokémon, then." Ryoga said, beginning to walk out to where his Gallade and Rio's Kirlia were.

With that, the three trainers took up their respective jobs for the evening, and Durbe couldn't have been more appreciative of his new friends.

[luminescentlyricist]

⚡ Overdrive 🏹

( WARNING: MEDICAL PROCEDURES AND GORE ) (Apologies if there are inaccuracies in the medical procedure! I'm not exactly a qualified surgeon, and I'm doing as best I can without going too batsh*t fictional. I'm also trying to keep it vague enough to be comfortable to read, but do be wary if you are sensitive to this sort of content.)

~

Dietas' lungs burned. They knew that they were vastly weaker than all of the other trolls in the room, physically speaking, but they took pride in their strong psionic abilities, and nothing would deter them from their goal. After five sweeps of hard work, there they were. They were in with the other 'recruits', or so they were called colloquially, and their legs were trembling from a strange, alarming mixture of fear, excitement and pure adrenaline. Looking around, their heterochromic gaze flickered from one troll to another. They needed to know who they'd be competing with for the position of helmstroll, or working alongside.

Ever since they were a grub, practising camouflage with their chameleon lusus in the scrub, they had known where their loyalty lay. They were made to serve the Empress, the Beforan Empire, and their fellow trolls as a whole. Dietas had always considered the position they vied for on that day to be the most direct, efficient way of showcasing their loyalty. They yearned for nothing else, no freedom, only an existence punctuated by service and what they had been born for. Some would call it a bad one, but there was nothing anyone could do to deter the goldblood from their dream.

Times had changed in Beforus. The grip on the hemospectrum was slipping due to Feferi's reign, but Dietas had long realised that they needed the structure in their life, and they intended to keep to the code that had been decreed by their caste even if it were to be abolished in its entirety. They were already eight sweeps old, and knew they had until twenty four at best. There was simply no reason to deviate from what had been written in their veins unless they were going to die. They had little to no intention to do so, in any case.

Their lusus had taught them to hide, and they intended to. Beyond making themselves known enough to become a helmstroll - the position that was already fading as Beforus became less and less dependent on exports - they considered themselves a conformist. Made only to fit the mould. There was nothing else that they could do that felt properly fulfilling. They didn't want to become an engineer, coder or anything else. The thought of becoming a battery - someone for other psions to leech psionic energy from, to steal from - made their skin crawl. They had been friendly; they had had other goldbloods that they might have considered friends, and too many had been resigned to that soulless fate.

It was a mystery why they had not realised that they were resigning themselves to one, too. Their thirst for imperial service would suck them dry in time. There was no mistaking that. either. Dietas thought themself mature, but their own naivety seemed to grow by the day. This had resulted in them leaving their lusus behind, and they had no way of contact. They could be half way across Beforus searching blindly, for all they knew. This didn't make Dietas sad. They thought their lusus hadn't cared about them, so there was no sense in getting attached. This was regardless of the fact that Beforan lusii stayed with their grubs for longer than Alternian ones ever could, and many stayed until their charge died.

The young goldblood looked around again, glanced at the indigobloods that were assessing every single troll. They were strong, tall and menacing, most capable of culling a gold with a single punch. A shudder worked its way down their spine, but they refused to react any more. They had too many eyes on them now to react badly, and knew they'd be chosen soon enough to go into testing. Not that they had any idea what the tests consisted of, nor wanted to. They had to be prepared for anything and everything they were put through, no matter how tired they were afterwards. If it pushed them near death, so be it.

Dietas inhaled sharply when an indigoblood tapped them on the shoulder, turning to face their assessor with bated breath. This was it. This was their only chance. They stayed behind the stocky figure, shrinking in the shadows due to sweeps of habitual hiding and hunting they had done with their lusus. Although they were small enough in stature, they were psychically strong enough to immobilise their target for a full two minutes, or multiple targets for approximately forty seconds, even at such a young age. Their feet didn't drag on the ground, and their back was straight as a rod. They could risk nothing this far in the assessment.

They were taken to a large alcove. The training grounds had been situated in a forest so dense that the only trolls that would get through the foliage were the unnaturally strong indigos or particularly powerful psions. To get there was a challenge in itself, weeding out many a competitor before the training even begun. There was a good reason why they had left their lusus, but they were regretting it now. The air buzzed with tension, causing Dietas' gaze to fall to their feet.

"You w!ll be g!ven all necessary !nstructions !nside the tra!n!ng vessel."

The indigo's voice rang out in a way that it logically shouldn't have, given the dense vegetation that muffled the noise around the two trolls. There must have been some sort of amplification technology nearby, hidden in the trees or other areas, although their sharp gaze couldn't see it. Dietas nodded silently, forcing themselves to look up at the 'training vessel'. The cargo ship loomed large over their head. It made them decidedly uneasy, but this was no time to be expressing that.

With one more glance to their broad-shouldered, emotionless instructor, they entered.

Immediately, as the small goldblood surveyed their surroundings, they felt like the walls were caving in around them. The dark interior of the ship was sleek, more modern technologically than they'd ever witnessed before. It made them want to touch everything, to feel it all and tear it apart, knowing how and why it was made. All the same, the beauty was imposing. They kept their head down after that initial look-around, knowing that they couldn't get distracted by everything.

Dietas was trembling slightly, hands curled into tight fists at their sides, however much they knew that they had to relax. They weren't sure if it was adrenaline or anxiety. Another glance told them where they were going to go. A gleaming pod, studded with circular panels. They'd likely be pressed up against the ones on the interior. Their eyes swept upwards in the pod as they neared it, taking in all of the wires and such that they'd be hooked into. It was a strange thought, being so entwined in the ship itself, but it was comforting. They'd be safe.

The one thing that irked them was how tight the curling, vine-like binds appeared, and that thought was accentuated as soon as they slipped their hands above their head and into the clamps. It became less of a fascinating cockpit than a metallic prison, and that was exactly the opposite of the training videos that they'd watched as a younger troll. As soon as they'd assumed their more humanoid form, they'd expressed their fascination with the job that now seemed more likely to cull them than anything else.

Shivers of anticipation ran along their spine as they psionically took goggles from a stand in the pod, fitting them over their eyes. Immediately, graphics and images burst forth into their vision, and an electronic voice accompanied the flood of information. The deep tones of their instructor, but mechanical and somewhat distorted, enough to make Dietas feel tense and wary of themselves.

"Prepare yourself for the ascent. You w!ll be g!ven complete control of the vessel, and your every move w!ll be mon!tored. You are to carry the prec!ous cargo !n your hold along the marked course, and other tra!nees w!ll take over when you reach the end of sa!d course. Should !t become damaged !n any way, you dev!ate from your course or d!sobey the !nstructions, you w!ll be promptly expelled from the program."

The goldblood's body was tingling again, but it felt hot and intrusive. Jittery, tense in the wrong way. They were going to lose their grip on the task as soon as they reached the air, surely. As opposed to beginning ascent, Dietas was slowly attempting to move and ease the sudden tension clamping them. It would be disastrous for them if the sensation continued. It was difficult to relax, even more knowing there were so many trolls watching them, however remotely.

"Tra!nee, beg!n your ascent or r!sk expuls!on."

There it was again; the electrically distorted voice of their instructor was nothing but a distraction, and an unwelcome cause to worry even more about what they were doing. They forced themself to relax into their position, eyes beginning to spark even more. Their left eye was fuchsia, whereas the right retained a violet akin to the blood of Aquariuses. Both slightly brightened in tone when they were using psionics. Their lusus had seemed to praise them, mentioning that they would fit right in with the royal fleet, but they weren't so sure about that now.

Slowly, Dietas felt their body shiver with energy, and the training ship rose shakily into the sky. Their mind was focused only on their task, and gaze trained forwards through the path glowing in their goggles. They couldn't afford to think of much else, due to how taxing the task was designed to become. It tested their agility, physical and psychic strength, logic, every aspect of their brain and body to a worrying extent. There was simply so much for them to concentrate on, as well as making sure they didn't get too overwhelmed by that notion.

Their psionic grip tightened around the ship as they steered it around the bends and weaves in the path. Beads of golden perspiration slid down their pallid skin, and their breathing was stuttering as if they weren't paying enough attention to stabilising it. At one point, they were exerting themselves so much that the sweat slipped under their goggles, causing their vision of the path and the infographics in front of them alike to blur. But they kept steady, for the most part, even when they became so breathless that their whole face flushed with gold.

Their body was too tense, too rigid. Even in stressful situations, helmstrolls were supposed to be able to keep themselves calm. But Dietas was slowly weakening, and that wasn't how it was supposed to be. More than anything, they couldn't black out and risk destroying the vessel, so they decided to push themselves harder than ever while they had the power to. The cargo needed to get to the end of the course, and if they were to falter then everything would crumble. However, they couldn't help but move in irritation. Prickles of electricity sparked from the back panels - those dubious-looking round ones that Dietas had always been sceptical of in the first place - and hit their back, sending shivers up instead of down their spine.

Gritting their teeth, they forged ahead, trying their very best to ignore the prickling annoyances. What they didn't realise was that the shudders of power weren't dissipating as they steered the ship; the excess energy that was being naturally converted into psionics was building in their head, but they couldn't control it. The goggles they wore were slowly melting onto their face - the right side only, for the energy had travelled there and not evenly dispersed - and inhibiting their vision. This meant a disaster: the energy being developed and added when they attempted to steer was building, and unable to escape the goggles or disperse along the vents in the lenses.

A distorted voice rang in Dietas' ears, and dual tones of colour flared in front of their face before everything went black.

~

Dietas awoke.

Not in smoking rubble, although the acrid smell laid thick in the air. In a small workshop, of which they couldn't see a thing. Everything hurt, from their fingers to their toes. Rapid tingling accompanied the pain, causing an agonising itchiness that they couldn't do anything to stop. They didn't risk moving; they had not the slightest idea where they were, and their eyes refused to open. All they wanted to do was to get back into the training ship and finish their mission, and that was their intention. There was nothing else they could do, because they couldn't pass up their chance to be a helmstroll. It was the only thing left that they had: the drive to continue was what sustained them.

They felt so weak it was terrifying. Their head was fuzzy, filling with swarms of noise and sensations they had no idea how to interpret without using their eyes. Their eyes, those that they'd depended on more than anything else. Slowly, shaking more than they thought possible, Dietas raised a hand to their face. It felt... wrong. Rough, as if something had melted and fused onto the skin over their right eye somehow. Their fingers were met with this roughness, and nausea began to push and pull inside their stomach like unruly currents.  What the hell was happening to them? They had though everything was alright, despite the crash that they couldn't even remember.

All they knew was that their face felt weird, they could barely move and they were probably half-blind. A noise jerked them back into the world, as they lay there in a foggy haze of pain. Footsteps, heavy and methodical, heading straight towards them. Opening their mouth to try and speak their protests, Dietas found that this was futile. Their interloper spoke first, in a gentler tone than they ever would have anticipated.

"Oh, gOOd. YOu △re △w△ke. I w△s beginning tO wOrry th△t yOu wOuld nOt cOme △rOund, △nd th△t I h△d in△dvertently invited △ cOrpse intO my hOme."

Home? So Dietas themself was the interloper... They found the strength to move again, struggling to something of a sitting position before the strange figure made a noise of disapproval at the action, presumably looking at whatever injuries they had sustained and advising they not move. Having no sight was perhaps the most frightening thing about their incapacitation, given the fact they had been moved into a completely new environment lying gog knows how far from the training facilities. As soon as they felt large hands on their shoulders, the comparatively small goldblood flinched. The voice was... familiar, somehow. It echoed the tones of the indigos in the training facility, and that made them freeze up noticeably. Had they been found? Were they going to be culled?

The indigoblood in question wasn't hostile, luckily enough. She didn't seem it, in any case. After walking a bit closer to Dietas in order to inspect their injuries, she spoke again, but was quieter still due to the close proximity that they were in. She didn't want to scare Dietas, and that was clear by how carefully she had stepped upon seeing the goldblood flinching at every footfall that her boots had made on the rough flooring. She cleared her throat and adjusted something hanging from her belt.

"△pOlOgies fOr the r△ther △wkw△rd intrOductiOn, my gOldblOOded friend. But yOu shOuld △bsOlutely nOt mOve, due tO the d△m△ge yOu h△ve sust△ined △lre△dy. My n△me is ItOri△ △prein, △nd yOu h△ve been in my c△re fOr △ signific△nt △mOunt Of time. My... ex-cOlle△gues," She wrinkled her nose, sneering in distaste, "H△ve cOme tO my WorkshOp m△ny times, se△rching fOr rOgue gOlds whO f△il their ex△m tO cull, △s if lOwblOOds △re l△me hOOfbe△sts tO be hunted fOr spOrt."

Dietas had no idea how long they had been blacked out for, but it didn't matter. They had a lot of healing to do, some of which would likely involve surgery. They didn't really want it, but as soon as Itoria had stated that she was there to help, they believed her and agreed to it. Despite her implications of being highblooded, they knew that she wasn't going to cull them because of how helpless they were now. Even if they hadn't been there for a long time, the rest of the indigobloods that they knew of would cull on sight, and the last time they checked they were alive. This was a relief, though the smoking smell that invaded their nasal passages told them that they had damaged the ship as well.

The goldblood gave into the throes of unconsciousness once again, and it was just as well they did. They were going to be surgically operated on, because the plastic and molten materials from the goggles had indeed melted onto their face around their right eye. Of course, Itoria had gained consent to perform it when Dietas had been more lucid before, and she was skilled in precision.

Although Itoria was a female indigoblood, the males of her caste were often prioritised when given jobs. It made no sense to her, due to the matriarchal society and Empress Feferi's emphasis on the dissolving of the hemospectrum and inequality. While many her acquaintances had moved on to become caretakers - a role that they were clearly not suited for - or instructors at such training facilities as the one Dietas had left, she had been forced to work in the background on electronics. Her skill lay in creating the hidden cameras that lay all over the premises, but she regretted them. After she had learned the truth, she felt disgusted that she was contributing to an unjust cause.

The truth was that the mysterious overseers, lying above the indigos that tested the golds, were ceruleanblooded. They were responsible for keeping the indigos themselves docile, in sort of a twisted interpretation of a moiraillegiance. That was the best explanation Itoria had in her head of it, though it would have been a 'hollow' pale relation, where the pacifism was achieved but nothing else. These ceruleans controlled indigos en-masse, from the moment they entered to the moment they left. Not all members of the cerulean caste were malicious and immoral, though there were just enough to cause mischief beyond the eyes of the Empress.

The exploitation and mental corruption occurring in the facilities was largely why Feferi had worked to outlaw or lessen the practice of helmstrolls in Beforus, after all.

After a few more moments of awkward but thoughtful silence, there came a clicking of mandibles as Itoria's oversized ant lusus emerged from deeper in the workshop, large blue eyes - similar in colour to the woman's own - gazing towards her charge. The lusus seemed to have dropped something to click at Itoria, as there was a glasslike tinkling noise upon contact with the rough flooring. She smiled at her lusus, standing and picking up the syringe full of a general anaesthetic. Regardless of the fact that Dietas was already unconscious, she wanted to make sure they absolutely didn't wake up.

Antmom left, presumably to dig and help expand the workshop. Itoria carefully injected the liquid into Dietas' arm and got to work, taking a glance around to make sure the windows were properly blocked out. Nobody wanted to see the surgery she was performing, and she didn't want anyone to interrupt. Steadying her shaking hands, she pulled disposable gloves onto them and tied up her hair. She wasn't going to deny that her own nervousness was getting to her. She had done many procedures, but none as intense as this.

Grabbing a marker, the indigoblood drew small lines around the area she was going to cut on Dietas' skin, outlining the upper-right portion of their face and frowning. She had anatomical knowledge, sure, but was uncertain if she should remove the horns. Deciding to do it only if she damaged the bones, she begun the laborious and gruesome process of removing the melted goggle-pieces around the eye, and clearing the skin, sinews and tissues away. She used a few more vials of anaesthetic through the many-hour process, the likes of which Antmom burrowed and stole from a local expedition of over-funded violet tourists. After a while, the tremors in her hands began to worsen, as her forearms were slick with gold.

Dietas was comfortably unconscious, and didn't seem to want to wake any time soon, which was really just as well. Unbearable phantom pains would likely greet them when they did, so the longer they stayed under the better.

Itoria Aprein, on the other hand, was all too vividly aware of what she was doing. Removing as much of the eye as she possibly could but leaving the nerves intact with the bones, she decided to leave the surgical part of her exploits there, as the goldblood's horns were also still miraculously fine. She had thought about the surgery in terms of mechanical extraction, where a slip-up could mean death by electrocution, and it had helped her concentrate. It wasn't really that different in terms of fatalities, albeit to the wrong entity. If she damaged the wires of a piece, she could jeopardise a whole machine. If she damaged Dietas' eye, she could damage them to the extent that they were forever half-blind, or worse.

However, she'd need to maintain their sedation or at least dull their lucidity for a few more days at best. If she were to properly fit and construct their mechanical headpiece, she didn't want them to be in agony until they reclaimed their sight. Looking at the vividly coloured vials of anaesthetic she had yet to decant into her syringes, a frown marred her usually stoic features for a moment. She rubbed her face after taking the gloves off, groaning loudly in exasperation. Her supplies were running low, and there was no way the tourists would let Antmom steal again. She'd have to resort to something else, and she had one more option at her fingertips. It was the worst thing possible, but there was no other way.

"Oh de△r me. I will nOt enjOy △dministering this, but it m△y be necess△ry in the ne△r future if things dO nOt Work Out smOOthly. I dO △pOlOgise."

Itoria spoke to the unconscious Dietas with a nervous tremor in her voice. She then left the room, wringing her hands in a gesture of nervousness. There were supplies that she needed, and although they were completely legal on Beforus, their use were frowned upon as if they weren't. The anaesthetic she had used earlier had contained a diluted version of the substance, as many painkillers and medical applications did, but the bottles in a heavily-guarded safe at the very back of her workshop were potent as ever. Moving out of the way of Antmom, she continued her journey until reaching the vault.

Since she had been able to break through her cerulean's control, due to her concentration training and higher caste, she lay low for a time in order to gather otherwise forbidden supplies for herself, and the Faygo bottles were one of them. Known in Beforus for its heavily numbing and mellowing properties, she had particularly stocked up on it in case of a break-in or invasion of Overseers. Running through the processes of unlocking - padlock code, retina scan, facial recognition, vocal recognition and blood sample - in her head, she performed the process rapidly and tucked a couple of Grape Faygo bottles into a bag she carried. It was said to be the most potent of the colours, even though the purplebloods who used small, controlled doses for calming didn't seem to note a difference.

Returning to Dietas, she asked for Antmom to put the bottles far in the back of the 'hunger trunk' and reapplied her thick leather gloves. Hoisting the troll into her arms, she carried them back into the private room she had set up for them earlier and mixed up some plaster. Carefully taking a mould of Dietas' left eye, horn and the surrounding facial features, she retreated into her workshop. She had a great big job to do, and it was a terrifying but welcome challenge. Clearing her throat, she curled and flexed her hands in and out of fists a few times to calm herself before setting down the mould. It had set remarkably quickly, and that was what she needed.

Heating her base metals, she was incredibly grateful for the toughness of her hands, underneath the gloves that did little to help her. Although she was young in terms of an indigo, she had worked with enough burning materials that her hands were calloused and rough. She had soon created the base of the headpiece, a shell of silvery metals that were fused together with heat and pressure as opposed to visible bolts so it would be less bulky and embarrassing for her little goldblooded friend. She had no idea why she felt so drawn to their recklessness in particular; she had seen many come and go, but they struck her as... different.

Not in a bad way, though. She had been able to find their Trainee File on Goregle, and discern who they were because of their horns. Dietas Lambda. Interestingly, they were labelled as 'culled', despite being with Itoria. She was glad to see that she'd been able to remotely modify the cameras and the facilities' entire database so the training ships flying overhead wouldn't pick her up in their radars as a instructor off-course. She knew that the ceruleans were able to track the trolls under their guide with remarkable precision, but they sent out drone-like scouting ships to round up drifting trolls or direct them, with no ill intent as far as she was concerned. All missing goldbloods were changed in the databases to 'culled' after a period of a human week.

Humming quietly to herself, Itoria busied herself with finding a lens that was the right violet colour to substitute for the troll's lost eye. Upon finding it and placing it on the worktable, she returned to the room in which Dietas lay, feeling their forehead to see if they were out cold. Unluckily enough, they were warmer to the touch and seemed on the verge of waking. The indigoblood walked to the 'hunger trunk' and retrieved her Faygo, filling the syringe with it and injecting that into Dietas' arm. Acknowledging that it was awful and immoral to effectively drug the other to sleep, she grimaced and fled back to the workshop. It would weigh heavily on her mind, but it was necessary. The only way she could get them through the process of re-fitting without pain was to keep them sedated however possible.

She muttered to herself as she worked on the interior mechanisms of the headpiece, her unusually small hands - considering the build of many Sagittarians - assisting her in fitting the wires to it. She planned for an infrared lens, so that Dietas would be able to see normally through their left eye and detect heat signatures with the other. It was gruelling work, though, as she also had to build the necessary chips, circuits and electronic additives to allow for her vision to come to fruition. Feeling a sudden boost in her confidence, Itoria smiled to herself. Everything was going to be okay. If she kept her head down and worked steadily for another few days, the goldblood would be indebted to her. That wasn't what she wanted, though. All she desired was a companion, and she'd hopefully get one.

After five days of tireless work, during which she only rested in a temporary recuperacoon she had in her workshop, the headpiece was finally finished. If all went according to plan, Dietas would be able to subconsciously meld the wires into their ocular nerve endings via psionics, at which point their vision would be restored in that eye. She slotted the headpiece back into the mould that had completely dried to make sure it was the right size once more before nodding to herself. For the first time in what felt like an entire sweep, she exited the workshop, headpiece in her claws. She hoped sincerely that Dietas would like it, though only its functionality truly mattered in the grand scheme of things.

On the other side of things, Dietas had awoken from their haze, and found that the pain in their body had lessened dramatically. They were still in agony, horribly nauseous, but it was a marked improvement to when they would blur in and out of consciousness due to the pain. They learnt not to move, lest Itoria catch them at it and scold them for it. They felt terribly woozy, feeling simultaneously hungover and drunk still from the two bottles' worth of Faygo and additional anaesthetics coursing through them. With a groan of irritation, they turned their head towards the footsteps that they no longer feared. Somehow, they had managed to avoid opening their one functioning eye, and the darkness didn't scare them so much any more.

Miss Aprein - Itoria, that was - had told them that they would be getting a gift, but not why or what it was. Her voice rang out, and hearing their own name from the Sagiun's mouth was a shock, but not bad. She hadn't raised her voice when speaking to them like many of their friends had developed a habit of doing, and it was soothing. More than anything, and any before her, she made them feel safer. They could almost see themselves as her moirail, strangely enough.

"△h, Dietas! I w△s wOndering when yOu'd △w△ken. HOw dO yOu feel? Can I give yOu yOur gift?"

Dietas simply shrugged and then nodded, not having the energy to speak. They were debilitatingly tired, despite the sedation. There was nothing they wanted to do but sleep until their troubles were gone, but their own recuperacoon was far away. Nothing felt quite real any more, because they were so lost. Their only hope was Itoria, and she didn't seem to realise how exactly they felt about the whole situation. It wasn't like they had the words to describe it, anyway, nor the breath in their lungs to speak them.

Itoria came up to Dietas, nimble fingers gently placing the headpiece down into its position. She retreated afterwards, but watched carefully to see the other's reaction and make sure they weren't being hurt by it.

"HOw dOes it feel nOw? It shOuld be prOperly △djusted to your head, but do tell me if △nything is wrong △nd I will fix it immedi△tely."

After a few moments, the goldblood opened their eyes - one old and one new - to gaze at their surroundings in awe. With a fizzling noise and a grinding of teeth, it was clear that Dietas had allowed their psionics to flow through the headpiece, the metal directing it to their nerves and allowing the connections to be established. They stood and looked directly at their carer, who turned out to be the same age as them - roughly 9 sweeps or 19 human years - old. A grin split their features for the first time in an aeon, and they spoke in a tone that conveyed 9 sweeps of suppressed joy, let out all at once in an explosion of colour.

"It's like I'm seeing the wx0xrld in a whx0xle new light."