#at least the bunnies aren’t supposed to come out until after I get eventual tax return

[boneless-mika]

They will soon be mine!!

Tbh I probably could have bought a scale figure for the amount they cost me (don’t tell anyone I spent like 170 euro on them) but I also got to try both the ways of buying figures I wanted to (a Swedish store that looked suspiciously similar to another one but they used Klarna for payment and if you aren’t familiar with Swedish stuff that basically means they’re legit to me, and Solaris bc I’ve never bought directly from Japan before and I’m worried about the ä in my address). Miyano was cheaper to buy from a Swedish store (Sasaki is sold out here I guess we love him) and Sasaki was pretty cheap from Solaris

[daughterofelros]

Roswell Witcher AU

This one is in thanks to all the folks on discord who helped me figure out that I should do a Witcher AU for Day 2 of Alex Manes week. Here’s the first part!

“Witcher.”

The voice belongs to a woman. Low, insistent, and neither the tone of a woman seeking to refill his mug of ale nor one offering her bed for the night in exchange for his coin and a story she can tell for years to come. He glances up slowly.

She’s an uncommonly beautiful woman- wearing an uncommonly fine black gown laced with coppery-gold embroidery, dark hair that falls in loose curls around her face, and a black cloak with a hood that frames that face in shadow even as it spills to skim the worn pine floorboards of the inn. Sorceress, then. And one who recognizes what he is when he’s doing his best to go unnoticed.

He says nothing, waits for her to talk. Tries not to flash his eyes. His swords aren’t visible at the moment, tucked away as they are. His medallion lies beneath his shirt. He looks younger than many of his rare brethren, and he’d taken pains to conceal his identity before entering this village. They’re prone to both suspicion and superstition around these parts, and he’d wanted to avoid anything that got between himself, a hot meal, and a warm bed.

His last job had paid well enough to afford the room, but not entirely enough to feel like fair compensation for the wounds his body had yet to finish healing. A few nights of inns and comfort are going to go a long way toward being back in fighting form. As plans go, it’s a perfectly fine one that gets a good deal harder if the innkeeper or the other patrons here perceive him as anything more than a weary traveler on the road. When people get curious, they ask questions and don’t always like the answers.  And if she speaks any louder or stand here much longer, curiosity will be unavoidable.

“I’m Maria of Konik,” she introduces herself, “and I have a message of the utmost importance for you.”

He gestures for her to sit, and she does with grace and elegance of movement not often seen in roadside inns of this size or reputation.

“What is this message?” he asks tersely.

“Less a message in the strictest sense.” She hesitates.  “I…have visions, sometimes. See the future.”

“A useful skill.”

“Sometimes,” she allows. “Other times confounding or infuriating. But this time clearer than most, at least. Your friend is in danger.”

“What friend?” he guards his expression with long practice.

“I see enough of the future to know we will become good friends over our immortal lives, Alexander of Brud, and one of the few you have. But as this is our first meeting, I know you bear little confusion as to who I could mean. The bard is in peril.”

This time, it takes effort not to allow his eyes to widen or his lips to move. But his heart still hammers out a few extra beats.

“Where is he?”

“Far from here,” she says swiftly. “Weeks of travel, by conventional means. But the danger he faces is far more urgent than that. He has become the target of a spell that unleashes a Hodag upon its victim. It will not cease to attack until it has torn its intended prey limb from limb, and mortal men are no match for its teeth and claws and vicious hunger. I’ve protected him as well as I am able with a spell around the hunting lodge where he is sheltering. But the spell has limits, and loses its potency during a full moon. Moonrise tomorrow is when the Hodag will come for him. Unless it can be stopped. And only witchers have ever succeeded in killing them before.” Her words come out in a rush, and he has a sudden understanding of the terrible urgency of the situation.

“Why even tell me this, if we are weeks of riding away from where he is? What purpose does that serve?” He bites out the words, irritation rising to mask his concern.

“I can bring us there, with magic,” Maria of Konik replies, looking pleased with herself. Alexander is less than convinced.

“That’s complicated spellwork,” he observes. “Taxing. Not the sort of thing most magic-users are willing to perform. What is he to you that you are willing to bear on that cost?”

“Part of every best future I have glimpsed. So long as he survives past tomorrow. So long as you come to his aid.”

“And what of the other futures?” he inquires.

She meets his gaze, dark eyes open and expressive as she slowly shakes her head. Well then.

“I don’t suppose there’s compensation for this task?” he says, reaching for his pack. He imagines that’s indication enough he plans to go with her.

She stands, and he does as well. “We both know you don’t require it, in this case,” she says, brushing her fingertips against the worn tabletop and turning toward the door to the inn-yard.

He has no response to that, so he follows her.

The portal that she opens takes them to a hunting lodge tucked into the edge of an old forest. A small yard that had been cleared a hundred years or more ago has begun to cede itself back to the wood, and the boxy stone structure with its slate roof sits at the center of the yard. It’s taller than it is wide, though that says little. Sturdily built, despite its age, it’s the sort of structure that it seems ludicrous to imagine the nobility devoting their efforts and purses to creating as a fortification like this against bunnies and deer, until one realizes the level of fortification is actually built with the local folk who might want to hunt the bunnies and deer without the King’s permission in mind.

Still, stone walls should help to keep the Hodag from making an easy snack of the bard, so he doesn’t disapprove.

Looking about, he can sense the slight disturbance of the air close to the trees. He narrows his eyes, glad for his good vision in the darkness.

“That’s the boundary of the spell,” Maria supplies. “It will keep anything from physically crossing in as long as it hold, but if anyone steps across it from within its bounds, it will start to dissolve. That’s I opened the portal here, so close to the lodge itself.

“He’s in there already?” Alexander asks.

Maria nods, and leads him to the heavy-timbered door.

The common room is empty, the fire banked in the hearth. But the glow of candle light spills down the stairs, and it’s those he climbs on near-silent feet. And there, standing in the center of the room, drawn from his seat by the sounds from below, is the bard, curls and grin the same as he remembered.

“Guerin,” he breathes, and then his arms are full of bard, forcing him to plant his feet as he returns the embrace. He doesn’t allow himself to cling to the other man, though the bard clearly has no such reservations. But Guerin’s hair is soft under his fingertips, the solid reality of his body a warm reassurance. Alexander allows himself to breathe in his scent

“You’re here.” Guerin marvels, pulling back and regarding him at arms length with astonishment. “How did you know…”

“Your sorceress friend found me, explained that you’d landed yourself in hot water again. Which jealous husband did you enrage this time?”

Guerin grimaces for the briefest moment, but covers it skillfully with a grin.

“That’s not fair, Alex,” he rejoins lightly. “You know sometimes its the jealous wives who send the hounds after me. Or sometimes both parties together if I’ve overstayed my welcome.” He smiles as he says it, but the smile doesn’t quite ease the sense of sadness or exhaustion from his eyes.

He starts to launch into a tale of woe, where he himself will be portrayed as both the put-upon martyr and the daring hero all at once, but Maria interrupts.

“Having heard this bit before, I’ll leave you to it,” she says dryly. “I know a spell that can help to slow a creature, and I believe I can use it to your advantage against the Hodag tomorrow night. But it requires things I don’t have access to here. I need to fetch them, and it will take time. I’ll return by mid-morning. Perhaps by then, you’ll have had a chance to bathe, Witcher. You stink of monster blood.”

He likes her. Possibly because she irritates him even as she makes his lips twitch toward a smile, though his tone remains measured.

“In all fairness, I’m not sure the creature had any blood. It was more of a goo.”

“Were there tentacles? I hate the tentacles, but they’re very dramatic when they have tentacles,” Guerin observes. Maria ignores him, her eyes widening slightly in surprise, and then the barest expression of mirth.

“What do you know- a Witcher who has wit. Bathe, and you might actually be tolerable company.” She tosses her head and trails down the stairs. The door closes behind her with a loud scrape and a sudden air of silence.

“She means it, you know,” Guerin eventually says. “There’s a bath tub here- fit for a king. She’ll have filled it by magic just now. Hot as if it has just been heated on the hearth and lugged up here.

“I could use it,” Alexander admits. “I washed the worst of it away in a stream yesterday, after I had been paid, but it was no finely heated bath. And tonight, she dragged me from my inn after I had eaten, but before I had called for a wash basin or had a chance to rest.”

“Is Maria is right, there’s no real danger tonight. That will come on tomorrow’s moon. So…you have time. I can…help you with your armor, if you desire.

Alex nods, not trusting himself to speak.

True to Michael’s claim, there is indeed  a wash tub- deep and luxurious- set behind a screen, already draped with linen and filled with water hot enough that he can see the steam curling into the air.

He loosens the straps and laces of his armor, lets Guerin ease the pieces of it from his body. It’s a ritual they’ve performed many times before, when they used to travel together. Before… Just, before.

He keeps his breathing even, every time Guerin’s deft fingers brush his arm, or his torso, whisking away another piece of the armor he wears like a second skin. But it takes effort.

Guerin turns away when he goes to pull his shirt over his head, perusing the bath offerings on the table against the wall, and keeping up a stream of even chatter that belies the skill he has in caring for people behind the glib, attractive facade.

“Chamomile, I think, for soothing and relaxation. And you’re favoring your right arm a bit, which means it’s paining you, so I think we should add calendula as well. Not Lavender, I think, but perhaps the geranium oil, for the tension in the sore muscles?” he adds the selections to the bath water, the steam making the scents dance across the room. Alex takes the time to pour water in the wash basin and scrub the worst of the filth of the road from his arms and chest, not wanting to foul the bathwater that Guerin has so thoughtfully prepared with scent and soothing herbs.

The delay means that by the time he reaches for the buttons that fasten his trousers, Guerin is finished preparing the bath. They meet each other’s gaze for a moment before Guerin makes to turn away.

“I should give you your privacy,” he says.

“You can stay, Guerin,” he says without particular forethought. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

He regrets the words almost immediately. It doesn’t do to remind Guerin of what has transpired between them, the gulf that has yawned between them ever since. It doesn’t do to remind himself. Guerin’s jaw clenches.

“You have wounds that haven’t healed yet. I have some of my salve in my pack. I’ll go and get it.” He ducks around the screen.

Uncertain if he truly intends to come back, or if the thoughtless words have sent him running, Alexander strips off the rest of his clothing and steps into the bath, letting the heat soak into his weary muscles, the steam rise into his nostrils. He rests his head against the high edge of the bathing tub, lets himself enjoy the sensation of the deep water and the soothing scents, the last of the dirt dissolving from his skin.

Long minutes pass and then suddenly Guerin appears again, a small carved pot in his hand, and a wary expression in his eyes.

“I wasn’t convinced you were coming back,” Alex admits. “I…wouldn’t have faulted you.”

“Between the two of us,” Guerin observes, just a hint of a bite to his tone, “I’m not the one with the tendency toward leaving.”

[tiaragqueen]

Bun Bun: Chapter 1

Prologue

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[Edited]

 “Fate leads the willing and drags along the unwilling.” - Seneca

            “Two young women are found dead in an abandoned park last night.”

            This wasn’t the kind of thing that you’d like to hear, nor was it the kind of thing you’d like to see in the morning. You wanted something light-hearted to start your day; something that could entertain you. It didn’t matter if it was a baby cartoon, as long as it could make you go to school in high spirits and endure the tedious day ahead of you, you wouldn’t complain much. Heck, it could be a funny cat video for all you cared.

            But your roommate, Rosé, was your polar opposite. She liked to stay updated on the current events and insisted to watch the news together. Therefore, the TV was often dominated by her especially in the early morning. She still watched the news during weekends too. You supposed it was a good thing that she wasn’t one of those party-goers who loved going outside and partying until they passed out from over drinking. You didn’t think you could deal with a hangover friend either, so that was a plus.

            “They have been horribly mutilated; from hands, legs, and tongues. The police haven’t found the lost appendages yet, and the search parties are still searching for them.”

           “Rosé,” you whined from the couch. As someone who didn’t really like horror movies or gory scenes and the like, there was a limit to how much you could bear it. And now, after seeing the paramedics carrying the mutilated bodies on the stretchers, you decided that enough was enough. “Turn it off, would you? Better yet, change the channel or something. I don’t want to see bloody scenes in front of my bread.”

            “Oh, be quiet. You’re not even eating bread right now.” The red-haired woman shushed you without looking away from the screen that blared the news anchor’s cold, professional voice. “Don’t you see how important this news is? What if you meet this killer someday and you don’t know that they’re a killer? At least, you’ve got some knowledge beforehand.”

            Another thing that you learned from Rosé was that not only she was up-to-date, but also a worrier. This both concerned and amused you at the same time how she could get troubled over an unlikely scenario. In a way, she was like a second mom for you. Perhaps this was the reason why your own mother preferred her more than your other friends.

            “That’s ridiculous,” you remarked, dipping the silver spoon into a bowl of milked cereal. You chose to ignore the fact that she called you out on your bullshit, but you liked bread anyway so that wasn’t entirely a lie. “We rarely go out, unlike some people on our campus. The chance of us meeting a killer is like, small. Almost non-existent, I’d say. We’re practically reclusive.”

            “But you'd never know, [Name].” Rosé argued, finally sparing a glance towards you after burning her retinas from the proximity. She had this habit of getting close to the TV out of pure concentration even though she didn’t have myopia, to begin with. “A killer never dresses like they’re on a hunt. They always seem like ordinary people; like us. I heard that this killer is skilled in disguise too. Don’t you think it’s scary? They might be someone that we know or study in the same classes as ours.”

            “You worry too much, Rosé.” You quickly dismissed her before she could go on a full rant on how ignorant you were to the danger of the outside world.

            It wasn’t like you were ignorant, anyway. You've had your fair share of close incidents in the past, but you just chose not to obsess over them as she did. Until now, she often reminded you of your negligence and mistakes that resulted in those incidents, although some of them were outside your control. This usually resulted in short-term arguments that ended with her apologizing; not that you planned on staying mad for too long. The more you mature, the more you grow tired of being angry over trivial things.

            However, you hadn’t reached the time where you would actually appreciate her concern.

            Rosé huffed, catching on to your attempt to avoid her ‘lecture’. Much to your satisfaction, she made no comment and merely turned her attention back to the TV.

            “Both families have reported their lost daughters on Saturday night after they went to a party held in a mutual friend’s house. They told us that the girls haven’t return ever since, and they’ve tried contacting them through phone calls and messages. None were answered.” A middle-aged police officer spoke to the reporter. It was obvious from the dark bags under his eyes and the way he repeatedly blinked to chase away the fatigue, he hadn’t had a proper rest. You knew this was going to be a taxing case and, arguably, something that couldn’t be solved in a short period of time. “It is known that their names are Soo Jinyoung and Myung Eunbi.”

            It might be the shock or the familiarity that came from those names when your hand froze mid-air.

            “Hey, [Name].” Rosé hesitantly peeked through her shoulder, having known them as well from the small conversation you had a few days ago. She had brought up the topic of jealous people from her class, and you were quick to mention those girls. “Aren't they... the ones who talked about you behind your back?”

            Staring off the distance, you didn’t respond to her question right away. But she already knew anyway, even without you answering it. You had voiced out your annoyance in dealing with them more than a few times.

            Regardless, you swallowed despite not consuming any food beforehand and nodded. “Yeah, they are.” you murmured before shoving the spoon into your mouth.

            You had never really talked to them, except for the occasional small talk to fill the awkward silence, but envious people exist in every corner of life. And you weren’t an exception to that, either. You never paid too much attention to their complaints anyway, although they did bother you sometimes.

            They might have faked their kindness to you, but that didn’t mean they deserved such barbarous deaths. It felt almost undeserving, compared to what they had done to you.

            But who were you to tell fate what to do?

            “There is a word ‘Bun Bun’ engraved on their skins. It is believed to be the initial of the killer.”

            You choked on your cereal at the revelation, accidentally spitting the milk out of your mouth. You were glad that Rosé’s attention wasn’t on you at the moment, because she’d surely fuss over it. “Out of any name that exists, they just have to choose Bun Bun.” You snorted laughter, dabbing the milk from your lips with a napkin. “I mean, what kind of a name is that? What a joke.”

            “It’s pretty unique, I think.” your roommate remarked, the corner of her lips twitched into an endeared smile. “Nobody chooses a name just because. There must be some sort of background – a reason – as to why they decided that.”

            “Oh, please.” You rolled your eyes and proceeded to clean the table with some tissues before she could catch you making a mess. “They might be a troll, for all we know. And stop smiling like that! It’s nothing to be happy about. Seriously, you’re so weird.”

            “... Anyway,” Rosé cut you off before you could rant on how creepy her expression was; the same way you’d cut hers a few minutes ago. Such an act of subtle revenge had never felt so bitter like someone interrupting you mid-sentence. “It’s a cute name, in my opinion. Most people usually choose some generic, boring titles like ‘The Bloody Clown’ or something like that. Bun Bun actually reminds me of a bunny.”

            “Your face looks like a bunny, you know?”

            You didn’t know why that reference baffled you, or why a girlish voice suddenly appeared in your brain, but all you could sense was your slackening movements. Rosé’s voice became white noise as an image of a little girl flashed in your mind. She was beaming, some of her teeth were missing, and yet she managed to look adorable. She wore a maroon dress with little bows adorning the collar and long sleeves, and she seemed to be talking to someone. It was as though you were watching an old, short film and the camera had purposefully overlooked the ‘friend’ in the story. The curiosity gnawed your stomach like a parasite and yet you could do nothing but following their interactions.

            “... [Name]? [Name]?” A hand suddenly slammed against the table, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Oi, earth to [Name]!”

            You heaved as if you had been awakened from a nightmare and blinked. It was then you noticed Rosé stood in front of you, her slender figure towering over your hunched one. “Huh...?”

            “You zoned out.” Despite her serious visage, you were able to detect a hint of concern in her voice. You didn’t blame her, though. You rarely ever ‘daydreamed’ during breakfast, if you could call it that. “Are you okay?”

            “Oh, uh, yeah.” You cleared your throat and downed the water in hopes of drenching your parched throat. “Sure, I’m fine.”

            Rosé sighed, clearly not amused at your feeble lie. Though, she didn’t bother to investigate any further. She figured you would come clean eventually. “Maybe we should go now. The class will start in thirty minutes anyway.”

            After washing the dishes to prevent them from piling up and locking the door, you two headed to the campus that was, thankfully, not too far from your apartment. It had been her idea to rent a room nearby, and while you initially resisted, you thanked her for the short time it took to reach the building. It definitely saved time and money, because that meant you didn’t have to ride a bus or something.

            While Rosé was busy playing with her phone, you stood a few meters behind her. The crisp and calm scenery due to the lack of passing vehicles brought you to that ‘flashback’. What happened? Who was that girl? Why did she look so much like you? Or maybe she was you, but you never wore that kind of dress before. It was obvious that that dress was expensive and probably made for a noble or aristocrat, and you were far from those things.

            And her voice; it definitely sounded like you too, yet more high-pitched. But that was impossible, right? You didn’t remember ever saying it, nor did you remember ever encountering someone with a face that resembled a bunny’s.

            Perhaps, you were beginning to get delusional. You hadn’t had much sleep lately from the many homework and projects, so that could be the reason.

            At least that was what you hoped.

            “Oof!”

            For the second time in a day, you were snapped out of your trance when you heard Rosé bumped against someone. You looked down in a slight daze, seeing your friend already sat on the ground. She was rubbing her bottom, gritting her teeth to endure the sting that shot up from her tailbone. Her phone was still intact, thankfully, though you could see a tiny crack on the screen. You immediately crouched and helped her ease the pain.

            “I-I'm sorry!” A somewhat breathy, yet melodious voice squeaked.

            You glanced up and winced a little at the sudden sunlight. There was a tall young man, far from lanky, yet his mannerism suggested that he was awkward around girls. His doe eyes darted from Rosé to you, undoubtedly contemplating his choices of either aiding her or stand around. Despite his youthful face, he possessed a body that just screamed ‘muscular man’. You could see his toned chest pressed against the dark blue shirt and his full legs underneath the black jeans. Had he didn’t bump into Rosé earlier, you would’ve thought that he was one of those cocky playboys.

            “Oh, it’s okay.” Rosé smiled wearily as you assisted her in getting up. “It was an accident, don’t sweat it.”

            Now that you were able to get a closer look on his face, you had to admit that he reminded you of a bunny.

            A bunny...

            “Is that so? Do you... like bunnies?”

            There was a new voice. A soft, boyish voice. One that you could listen for eternity without getting bored, and one that fluttered your chest with its melody. You would’ve stood there, in the middle of a sidewalk, trying to put a face on to the unique tone had Rosé didn’t bring you back to the reality.

            “... [Name]? [Name]!”

            You took a sharp intake of breath and looked at them wide-eyed. They were staring at you in concern, though the boy’s seemed more intense than hers. It was as if he was trying to gauge your real reason through his heavy gaze alone; not that you knew any. Nevertheless, its intensity creeped you out slightly.

            “You were zoning out. Again.” Rosé's statement told you that she was still present and didn’t look the least bit pleased with your constant daydream. You would’ve loved to deny it, but your befuddled state proved otherwise.

            “Am I?” you tittered. “Must be my zoning out day today.”

            Rosé wasn’t buying it. Then again, when did she ever? She probably knew you better than your own mother. That was the reason why the latter ‘entrusted’ you on to her hands, even though it hadn’t been long since you started to befriend her. Or rather, she befriended you. Socializing wasn’t your strong suit.

            “Are you okay?” the boy piped up after staring at you for God knows how long. It was then it occurred to you how you had made a fool out of yourself in front of a stranger.

            And a cute one too.

            “Bunnies are my favorite animal!”

            “Yeah, of course. As fine as I can be.” You ignored another voice that emerged in your mind and gave a thumb up to reassure him, though it did nothing to dispel his worry and suspicion. However, he decided to drop the subject and instead shot Rosé a shy smile.

            “Well, I-I should go now. Sorry for bumping to you, Seonbae.” he said so quickly it sounded like a jumble of words. His nerves must have skyrocketed in your presences.

            “It’s okay, really. I’m not mad.” Rosé smiled, yet a glimpse of her expression informed that she was just as surprised as you were. How could you not? You’d thought he was around the same age as you, not younger. Appearance could be so deceiving sometimes.

            Blood rushed to his pale cheeks as he bowed and rushed as if he was being chased by something. You stared at his retreating back, wondering what had gotten him in such a hurry, before slowly turning to Rosé with a sly smirk.

            “Rosé~” you drawled out her name, wiggling your eyebrows playfully.

            She glanced at you, wariness and confusion creased the corners of her eyes. “What?”

            “It seems that you’ve got yourself some admirer.” you sang, indifferent to the weird looks you’d received from the passers-by.

            Whenever you were near your close friends, it was when you started showing your true, weird self without regard to other people’s opinions. It was the greatest feeling in the world; being able to simply be yourself without the fear of being judged.

            Rosé sputtered in shock, your cheeky remark clearly caught her off guard. “Wha- of course not! How can you be so quick to jump into conclusions?”

            “Well,” you twirled a lock of hair in your finger and blinked coyly. “Have you seen his smile earlier? Or the blush on his cheeks?”

            “It might be because he’s shy after crashing on me, not because he has a crush on me. I swear to God, [Name], get your mind out of the gutter!” Rosé huffed and stomped away from you. Away from your absurdity. Though, you didn’t blame her for leaving you.

            You stifled laughter as you tried to chase her. “W-wait, Rosé. Don’t go. You know I was just kidding!”

            “Oh, shut up! That’s what you always said before you paired me up with my acquaintances.”

            “I just want to hone my skill as a matchmaker, Rosé. Come on! Don’t sulk on me, please.” you begged sincerely, in spite of the hilarity in your tone.

            “Matchmaker, my foot!” Despite her irritation, Rosé eventually joined your giggle. She could never be truly angry at you, even if she wanted to.

            A cold blast of breeze blew past you. You stopped on your tracks and shivered. Had you know that the air would be this chilly, you would surely wear a jacket before leaving the apartment. Hugging your stomach with both hands, you stole a glance over your shoulder.

            A silhouette swiftly receded behind the corner.