#because they would have snatched them and sold them for those prices anyways.

[chemnections]

i think people are missing the part that the ordinary items frank sold wasn't for the cash grab but because he is deeply sentimental down to the smallest details and belongings. he had trouble parting with all of it. he knows a lot of his fans are sentimental like that, too. this way he could spread the reach of his fans having a chance at a souvenir - a piece of something that was actually there.

[rokhal]

Ghost Rider/RE7 AU fanfic: Skills

Follows directly from this fic. Set in @wazzappp's Ghost Rider/RE7 fusion AU, during the period that Robbie and Gabe are living in an isolated BSAA-provided safe-house, watched by intelligence agents and also by Chris Redfield.

At least until the thing with Mia, Ethan Winters and Chris Redfield seemed to be friends, and Ethan seems to have looked up to Chris. I don't see this happening with Robbie. Not to say anything bad about Chris -- I'm not familiar enough with his character -- but his wiki page has his full career and this man has spent twenty years professionally shooting things. I just don't see Robbie getting that cozy with him, not without a long adjustment period.

Anyway, here Chris is being friendly. He's got a soft spot for orphans.

Mr. Redfield (like hell was Robbie going to call the private military contractor on whose word they had been extrajudicially deported to a Spanish-speaking country under false Mexican passports, and who had probably trained the guys who trained the guys who disappeared people for the cartels down south, “Chris”) showed up a couple times a month to supervise Robbie practicing with his illegal BSAA-issued firearms and make nice with Gabe. Gabe liked Chris. Robbie had to let them think he liked Chris, because if Chris ever decided that Robbie and Gabe were more trouble than they were worth, presumably as witnesses against Cutting-Edge Health Connections or whoever it actually was that had snatched Gabe up for his life-saving experimental “therapy,” then Chris would probably dismember them both and cremate them in an oil drum. Heck, he could probably skip the cremation step and just leave their corpses in the house. No one would find them for years.

Career-choice aside, Mr. Redfield seemed like he wanted to appear harmless. He generally arrived in a nondescript rental car, biceps straining the sleeves of his polo shirt, bearing some comics or Cholula hot sauce or something else he thought would endear him to them. Today, he trundled down the miles-long gravel drive to the house in a Toyota Tacoma. Robbie didn’t know they sold those in Spain. As he approached, Robbie spotted something mechanical and spindly in the truck bed, which resolved itself into a pair of bicycles.

“Got something for you two,” Mr. Redfield announced, getting out and lowering the tailgate. He vaulted into the bed, and motioned for Robbie to grab the bicycles as he handed them down. Robbie had to take a moment to identify a secure place to grip them; bicycles were about 80% moving parts. Robbie steadied them both awkwardly by the handles to keep them from toppling over, and Mr. Redfield jumped down with a large brightly printed box under each arm. “Casco para Bici de Montaña” and “Casco Juvenil para Bici,” the glossy boxes read. The price stickers were still in place; the helmets had each cost over fifty euros.

Mr. Redfield waved for Gabe to come over, and Gabe ran up and grabbed his helmet with both hands—“Is that for me? Do I have to give it back? Does Robbie get one?”—while Mr. Redfield used his foot to depress a metal brace near the bottom of the frames that allowed each bike to stand upright so Robbie could let go of them.

“They’re a little old-fashioned and I had to guess on the sizes,” Mr. Redfield apologized, gesturing to the bikes. “I figure they should be good enough to have some fun on, though.”

Robbie couldn’t guess what about these bikes was old-fashioned; the paint and seats had a few scrapes and there were stickers plastered to the frame of the smaller bike, but they both had actual shocks with springs and pistons and everything. Each handle had its own cluster of levers and cables. Robbie wasn’t stupid, he knew a bike was basically a big pair of gyroscopes that steadied you as they rotated and he could deduce that the levers and gears and chain served the same purpose as a manual transmission for whatever fraction of a horsepower a human’s legs produced, but understanding how one worked and actually operating one were very different. These weren’t the small one-speed bikes his peers back home might meander along the city sidewalks or pull wheelies on; these looked like the kind grinning sweaty white people rode down mountains on TV commercials for allergy medication. The saddle on the larger bike was taller than Robbie’s hip. If he tried to sit on it, neither of his feet would touch the ground. “It’s big,” he remarked.

“The seat’s not hard to adjust.”

Crap. Mr. Redfield must think Robbie was complaining. Robbie had no opinions about bicycles—no, maybe he did. Bikes were quiet, inexpensive to operate, difficult to conceal tracking devices on, simple to repair, and while they couldn’t compete with cars on the freeway, they were the next best thing for long-distance travel. And they didn’t require ID or registration. If the BSAA had meant to trap Robbie and Gabe in this off-grid house, maybe Mr. Redfield was offering them a plausibly deniable escape. Or maybe he was just irresponsible. That left only the major problem. “Gabe doesn’t know how to ride a bike.”

Mr. Redfield made as though to punch Robbie in the shoulder, and Robbie flinched before he could stop himself. Redfield completed the punch slower, lightly, the same way he insisted on manually adjusting Robbie’s posture when he supervised firearms practice, like he was doing Robbie some kind of favor by pushing his tactile boundaries. “Well, lucky he’s got you for a big bro, huh?”

“Uh, about that,” Robbie started, then froze when he heard a crumbly hiss of tires on sand, and a scream moving rapidly downhill. “¡Ay! Gabe!”

“Thought you said he didn’t know—” Mr. Redfield started, but Robbie was already sprinting around the Tacoma, between the endless shrubs, down the rocky slope after Gabe, who was hurtling toward the ocean at ten, fifteen, twenty miles an hour—toward the ocean and the rough cliffs that led down to it.

“Gabe! Stop!” Robbie stumbled on a loose rock and gasped for air. “Gabe!”

“Whoa, little dude, safety first,” Mr. Redfield called, waving the boxed helmet in one hand as he overtook Robbie without obvious effort. Maybe he was some kind of bioweapon. “Come on back here, let’s get this fitted.”

Gabe arrested his headlong course toward certain death by some kind of miracle, and turned his bike around a mere five hundred yards from the cliff. (It looked closer from Robbie’s perspective.) He stood up on the pedals to put his weight into climbing back up the hill, just like he’d had full use of his legs his entire life, before swinging down off the bike and walking the rest of the way, panting. Robbie wheezed and braced his hands on his knees when they reached each-other.

“Cliff,” Robbie managed. “Gabe. Don’t go down the cliff.”

“Wasn’t gonna,” Gabe protested. “That’d be stupid.”

“I know, I know you’re not stupid. But.” Robbie grasped desperately for some way to explain his panic besides, every time you show me something new you can do I get scared you’re possessed again. “This ground is a bad surface for braking. You could skid and lose control at high speeds.”

“I want to try on my helmet,” Gabe said, passing his bike to Robbie as he jogged up to where Mr. Redfield was opening the box. Robbie watched closely as Redfield set the helmet on Gabe and stuck little strips of foam to the inner rim wherever Gabe said it chafed him. Gabe kept trying to loosen the chinstrap until Robbie admonished, “If you cracked your head open I’d be so sad I might die.” Then Gabe slumped and let Redfield tighten the chinstrap according to the diagrams. Redfield was following the English language instructions, but Robbie noticed that he’d had to turn to the middle of the guide pamphlet to find them. The front pages were all in Spanish.

“Thought he didn’t know how,” Mr. Redfield remarked, not bothering to lower his voice despite Gabe being right there.

“Uh,” Robbie said. He still knew almost nothing of what Gabe’s life had been like while the Connections had had him, but he doubted it had included many outdoor activities. Gabe was looking away, picking at a sticker on his bike’s handlebars. “He was...away...for a while.”

“Daddy Baker taught me,” Gabe explained. His voice was quiet. “He taught Evie first. Then me. She really liked it, she made me ride for her after she got too old.”

Robbie swallowed. “You, uh. Are you happy to have your own bike now?”

“Yeah.” Gabe was still absorbed peeling off the previous owner’s stickers, but Robbie watched Mr. Redfield watching his brother with a blank, analytical expression. “Evie was really sad she couldn’t play with her real body anymore. She was nicer when I let her play with me.”

Did Gabe mean play together or play with, like a toy? Hopefully Mr. Redfield would assume Gabe meant the first one, because the second option might have left traces that might require more aggressive decontamination. “I’m really proud of you for learning how to do this,” Robbie said, trying to change the subject. “But you gotta tell me before you go out riding, okay? And stay where I can see you. I don’t want you getting lost again.”

“I wasn’t lost, I was turned around,” Gabe protested.

Mr. Redfield laughed. “Great comeback. Okay, dude. To keep from getting turned around, you just look for your major landmarks. Right here, that’s the water, that’s always gonna be South. You climb up the nearest hill, and you look for either a downhill slope, a river, or the sea itself, and you can figure it out from there.”

“See?” Gabe said, raising one eyebrow at Robbie.

Are you fucking kidding me. Robbie glared helplessly at Mr. Redfield. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now you two can do some sight-seeing. Or,” he said, winking, “zip into town for groceries in an emergency.” What was that wink for. Was Redfield trying to warn and prepare Robbie for something, or just playing Friendly Paramilitary Babysitter? “Don’t act too excited, now.”

“Right, thanks,” Robbie said. “I, uh. I rode a motorcycle once. Bike can’t be that different?”

Redfield frowned. “You never rode a bike?”

Why was he acting shocked. He’d read their file. Foster kids couldn’t haul bikes from home to home. “Who was gonna teach me?”

“Me,” Redfield muttered. “Now. Apparently.”

“Is it a requirement?” Robbie checked.

“No, not like firearms training,” Redfield said, confirming one of Robbie’s previous suspicions and raising more questions at the same time. “But I figure you want to keep up with him.”

“Yeah.” Ahead of them, Gabe mounted his new bike again and squiggled back and forth up the hill toward the driveway. “Thanks.”

[maymyheartbmyguidingkey]

aren’t we a nice pear

you can blame @duelistkingdom​ for this, not me

Yugi was quickly learning that certain fruits may have been tough to come by during the 18th dynasty - if not non-existent.

His first clue was when he brought a coconut back to the apartment, intending to make his famous coconut curry and sticky rice.

Atem had peeked into his grocery bags, adorably curious (Sugoroku had always done the grocery shopping, and rarely did he ever obtain fresh fruits), and had gasped dramatically, startling Yugi so badly he nearly jumped out of his own skin.

"What? What's wrong? I swear to god, if I broke the eggs -"

But when Yugi swivelled to survey the damage, he found instead Atem holding a coconut aloft, reverently.

His shoulders fell.

"A coconut," Atem hissed. "When father would return from his diplomatic travels he would near always bring coconuts. The juice was divine."

Yugi rolled his eyes good-naturedly and returned to putting away their groceries. "You almost gave me a heart attack over a coconut. What, were they not very popular in your time?"

Atem was silent for long enough that Yugi knew: if he looked back at him right now, he'd be met with an unfairly incredulous stare.

So Yugi turned to him, face resolutely deadpan, finding his prediction entirely correct.

"Yugi, my partner, light of my life -"

Yugi's eyebrows climbed into his hairline.

"- coconuts were an import," Atem said, like it was especially important, clutching the coconut to his chest as if it were a wounded animal. "Only the fabulously wealthy -" he pantomimed tossing hair over his shoulder, "could possibly afford such a luxury good."

Yugi snorted, finding the eggs (thankfully, in good shape) and placing them delicately in their designated spot in the fridge.

"Well you were fabulously wealthy, O dearest Pharaoh, so why are you clinging to it like a starving man?"

"Because coconuts are - what is it Jou always says? It is the most ridiculous - oh yes - lit."

Yugi froze, eyes squeezed shut. "Atem. My world. Dearest heart. Never say that again."

But then his brain buffered. Wait a damn minute -

Eyes comically wide, Yugi said, "Wait. Atem. What kind of fruit did you have?"

Atem pursed his lips, tossing the coconut from hand to hand, resting his elbows on the quartz island between them. "Grapes. I rather liked those. Oh - figs, though I found them too sweet. Nabk -"

“Atem,” Yugi pressed, suddenly desperate, “what’s a strawberry?”

Atem blinked, confused as to how and why the tone of their conversation shifted. “I... suppose I'm not quite sure? When you say the word, an image crops up, but I have not the faintest -”

Yugi was already grabbing his keys. “I'm going back to the store.”

“What on Earth -”

“I’ve been craving cherries anyway. Oh my god, and pomegran - no, wait, you guys had those, right? Pretty sure that was an 8th dynasty thing. Peaches! Pineapple? Holy - I need to learn how to slice a pineapple -”

“Yugi, my love, what is happening right now?”

“Oh, I’m so stupid,” Yugi scoffed, taking Atem by the hand, who squawked indignantly at his self-insult. He dragged Atem hurriedly to the front door, fumbling to slip on his shoes with only one hand. “You can just come with me.”

“Call yourself stupid one more time. I have hands now, Yugi. I can smack you.”

“Why, what better for me to kiss, my dear?” Yugi said, throwing his pharaoh a sly smirk, raising Atem’s knuckles to his lips. Atem’s face flushed a pretty red, and he stared pointedly down at his own backless loafers, grumpily slipping them on.

“Cheeky,” he mumbled, sounding secretly pleased.

☆

“Yugi. Where... what is this place?”

Yugi sent him a bright grin, squeezing Atem's hand where he held it in his jacket pocket. “This, O mighty Pharaoh, is the grocery store.”

Atem gawked at the various signage as Yugi dragged him to the cart well, snatching up a handbasket and promptly making a beeline for the produce section.

“Wait, wait, was that - was that a massive cart to wheel your groceries about in?” Atem asked, incredulous. “How affluent must you be to fill one of those?”

Yugi snorted. “I can't believe I never once brought you to a grocery store. Goes to show how often those lunches from 7/11 saved my life in high school.”

“Oh,” Atem said, staring at the wall of colorful greeting cards as they passed. “Well, this is delightful. It's much like the market, just. Indoors. And with fluorescent lighting.”

“Yeah, you get it,” Yugi encouraged, leaning over to kiss Atem’s temple firmly. “C'mon, this way.”

The produce section was lush today, what with it being a random Thursday afternoon, and Atem was already spotting things he had never seen before but knew the names of (thanks to the brain of a certain now-adult who he had often possessed when he was nothing but a no-name disembodied spirit).

“There! The - what was the word? - strawberries,” he chirped. “What kind of name is that, by the way?”

Yugi squeezed his hand twice, their mutual sign for it’s okay, grab it, holding the basket within Atem’s reach. “Says the guy with nabk. Throw ‘em in there, hot stuff.”

“The -” Atem blanched, holding up a packet of strawberries, confused. “All of them?”

Yugi raised his eyebrows. “Yes? What, you want me to open it and pluck out a single strawberry?”

“Well - wouldn’t - isn’t the whole thing expensive? They seem like they would be expensive.”

“Oh, no,” Yugi slid the basket to the crook of his elbow, swiping up a packet himself and giving the label a read. “Strawberries are one of Japan's biggest exports. Oooh, and I love amaou variety. Perfect for your first try.”

He gently took the packet from a stunned Atem’s hand and dropped both into the basket. Atem sputtered.

“That is - you can just, buy fruit en masse? Affordably?”

Yugi laughed quietly, spotting the pineapples and leading Atem toward them. “Maybe not as cheaply as in other places - we kind of have a thing for designer fruit here. But these packs are only ¥500 each.”

“Only how mu - oh my land, those are horrifying.”

“Yeah, if you’re not used to them, they’re pretty freaky,” Yugi acquiesced, reaching for a piece of the spiky fruit - only for Atem to slap his hand away.

Yugi whipped around to stare at him, bewildered. The look on Atem’s face wouldn’t be out of place beside the dictionary definition of appalled.

“My Yugi will most certainly not be touching the pointy death fruit!” he hissed, gesturing violently toward the pineapples, like his reaction was obvious. “I used to inhabit that body, you know.”

Yugi pressed his lips into a firm line, trying desperately not to burst into laughter.

“Atem. Pharaoh of my heart. My angel,” he whispered, taking a deep breath. “I love you so much. Just - watch this.”

And Yugi - while giving Atem a pointed, amused look - reached again for a pineapple, easily picking one from its perch by its uninviting body.

Atem, perplexed, brows raised in astonishment, stammered. “But - it - you -”

Yugi offered it to him. “It's not a cactus. Its bark is worse than its bite.”

Atem hesitated, but Yugi patiently held the pineapple toward him, nodding encouragingly when Atem met his eyes doubtfully.

And so Atem took it in his elegant, princely hands, brows furrowed in confusion when it did not, in fact, slice him to ribbons.

“But... it looks so evil.”

“Right? But it’s only poke-y. Honestly I just wanna meet the guy who saw one for the first time and immediately thought, “hey, I’m gonna crack this shit open and give it a taste”.”

☆

Yugi created a monster.

They had picked out a few more things for Atem to try, including the promised cherries and peaches (Atem giving a smug “now that is more like it” when he saw the peaches priced at two for ¥1990), but also some things that yugi had realized he took completely for granted: blueberries, kiwis - bananas. God, bananas.

Atem had also discovered that coconut water was sold by itself, in convenient single portions, and had happily trotted off to the self-checkout counter with a case of six, an endeared Yugi in tow.

It had been a week since that fateful day.

Atem sat on their cute little cream loveseat, newly-acquired and much-needed reading glasses on his nose and feet propped up on the matching ottoman, his current read in his lap. He held one of Yugi's many reusable water bottles in his hand, half-full with coconut water, blueberries, strawberries and ice floating prettily at the top. His bottle-holding arm was curled protectively around a bowl precariously perched on the arm rest, where he kept his (perfectly sliced) pineapple rings.

"Living in the lap of luxury, I see," Yugi said, plopping down beside Atem and draping himself directly atop the open book. He gazed up at his boyfriend, mischievous. "Lavish attention upon me as you do your precious books and fruits, O great Pharaoh."

Atem rolled his eyes, plucking a ring of pineapple from the bowl and tearing it in half. Yugi opened his mouth expectantly.

"Who said this was for you?" Atem snorted, popping one half in his mouth. "This is the last of it and you are a brat."

Yugi, as per usual, pouted to get his way. Atem, as per usual, was unable to resist said pout, huffing and presenting Yugi with the other half.

"A brat maybe, but loved by you nonetheless," he cheeked as he chewed.

"Exhibit A. Eat with your mouth closed; you are in the presence of royalty," atem said. "And sit properly, for goodness sake - you'll choke, and I refuse to have that on my conscience."

And sit properly Yugi did - mostly. He slung himself over Atem's shoulders, muttering into his neck, "You know, that's the third pineapple you've -"

"Ananas."

Yugi scoffed. Ever since Atem had Googled the Arabic name for the fruit (an adventure in it's own right), he refused to use anything else.

"Yes, ananas, yet somehow I’m the brat here," Yugi continued, "point being: it's the third one you've decimated this week. We just ran out of bananas, and I think that was the last pack of strawberries, too. I'm gonna go broke."

"This is fine. We can subsist off of fruit alone."

Yugi leaned back and stared into Atem's face, who had gone back to reading his book, unfazed. "You can subsist off of fruit alone. I need meat. Protein."

Atem pulled off his glasses and slapped the book shut, giving Yugi the most skeptical look he’d ever seen. "Yugi. You are a waif."

"Hey! No body-shaming here!" Yugi protested, pulling his legs up and into Atem's lap, again smothering the book. "All the more reason for me to have meat in my diet! I won't survive."

"You know, I used that miraculous thing - Google - and it told me that meat is actually quite bad for you. Did you know that humans only evolved to eat it because -"

Yugi groaned, stuffing his face back into the crook of Atem's neck, his next words muffled. "Google made my boyfriend health-conscious and now I can't have bacon. I'm sending corporate a strongly-worded email."

Atem's quiet laughter was like warm sunshine, and Yugi basked in it, the tell tale thunk of his water bottle being set on the side table music to his ears, as Atem could only be freeing his hand for one reason. He began to stroke Yugi's hair, and if Yugi could purr, the sound of it would reverberate through the entire apartment building.

They fell into a comfortable silence, only broken by the soft sounds of their chewing as they polish off the pineapple rings, Atem more than happy to continue feeding Yugi pieces.

"I may joke around," Yugi finally whispered, like they were the only two who existed in the universe, "but you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I'd sell my kidney to buy you whatever you wanted."

Yugi felt a puff of a laugh against the crown of his head; the press of Atem's lips. "No need to go to such extremities, precious one. You are all I would ever wish for."

[nayarablueglasses]

Duo x male reader

a/n: oh gods this is so. anyways this was meant for day thirteen of the @gundam-wing-pride event but certain circumstances have caused me to be unable to post in time for it. the tears prompt was kept in mind for this, i hope it suffices.

word count: 2,059

summary: horrific battles never made you cry, so how did a joke from Duo manage to do it?

warnings: reader is in an active war at first, brief mentions of reader becoming deaf to loud sounds after the battle, reader has a very dry way of thinking, i haven't seen the entirety of the show in ages so i think my timeline is a little messed up

reader pronouns: he/him but comes off as gn

How’d you end up here?

You’d woken up to the extremely jarring sounds of the space station’s evacuation alarms. Considering the immediate panicking masses of people that then flooded the streets, it wasn’t the best way to wake up. Especially when you factor in that your first evacuation drill since the ‘safe space’ had been rebuilt, relocated and refortified was supposed to happen next week. Though to be fair, there were absolutely no signs that you knew of that would signal a a war erupting on your colony.

Honestly? You never were impressed by the Gundams. All you knew about them was that they were starting a war with what a few of the colonies had begun to call the “colony rebels.” The White Fang. Maybe the White Fang had started the war, but you could care less. No matter who’d started this, the colonies- your colony- was caught in the crossfires now.

And it wasn’t like you could trust the Gundams, either. It wasn’t that long ago that Gundam Pilot 04 almost blew up an entire colony because their father had been killed. If that was how the Gundams handled personal loss, your colony could only speculate on the ways they’d deal with the political difficulties of a war. And unsurprisingly, it turned out that they handled it absolutely terribly.

The scariest part was the absolute absurdness of the whole war. Two sides that claimed to speak for the colonies. The White Fang pressed attention on the colonies, while the Gundams remained an absolute mystery. Plus, the individual power struggles claiming the colonies, the Treize Faction war against Oz that was reportedly occuring back on Earth... everybody was misinformed about absolutely all of it, and the best you could do was try to make sense of the chaos unfolding and hope it never touched your poor colony.

But wishes don’t always come true. And certainly never the wishes you make.

Like the wish you’d been repeating back to yourself for the last hour- to be able to come out of this unscathed. Your arm had some thoughts on that.

As it turns out, trying to run through an active warzone to the safe space you didn’t know the location of was extremely dangerous. So dangerous that your arm had been hit with a stray bullet. Right now the main dangers were the footsoldiers firing at each other, but not that far off in the distance you could see two of the Gundams fighting a swarm of Taruses. The fact that they weren’t close was anything but comforting, since you’d seen the speed of the Gundams before on T.V.

Oh.

“Hey- get outta the way! Ya try’na get killed?” A White Fang footsoldier shoved you to the side, presumably trying to help. Instead you stumbled facedown into a very large pile of scrap metal. Which very much hurt your arm and effectively trapped your leg as well.

Fun. “The fuck kinda horror movie is this?” You muttered to yourself. Of course, of course you ran directly into the fray. Because of COURSE that was safer than the opposite direction (which in all fairness had been covered in sharp-looking rubble). That’s fine. You could work with this. What did your uncle usually tell you- take inventory in terms of crises?

You hadn’t brought a backpack with you, so, all you could take inventory on was what was in your pockets. One elastic, a single outdated coin, and fuzz. Plus, a bleeding arm and the bullet you figured was still in there, a possibly twisted and hopefully not broken foot, ringing in your ears... and the clothes on your back. Ok.

So this is how you die? Fine. That’s fucking fine. You had plenty to live for, but fine. Who cares?

“Woah-hoh, what the hell? Hey- hey handsome, you awake?”

A very neon green light pierced your consciousness. Out of habit, you tried to raise your arm to block it out- and then an even more painful, piercing feeling jolted through your whole body. “Ahh-huah- ‘m. ‘m awake now. Ohhh gods. Yeah. ‘m- yeah. Fuck. Who’re you and are you going to help me or kill me?”

“Kill you? Man, I might be the god of Death and all but I’m not going to kill you! You related to Heero or somethin’?”

“Don’t know- ow- who the fuck that is. What’s up with that green light shit> ‘M gonna be blinded if I open my eyes.”

And there the light went. Nice. If this guy didn’t kill you, you might actually survive. Sans your arm. Nobody on your colony could help your arm. You figured that life would be interesting from now on. “Great, thanks man. Fuuuuck. You- you see my arm? Yeah- I’m taking your silence as a yeah. This bitch’s fucked and moving at all is very very painful. So hey random stranger. You strong enough to carry me to the nearest amputator?”

Apparently you were just being dramatic. Your arm would 100% be still attached and your foot would survive. Your ears were… fine. After waking up in a hospital on an entirely different colony station, you learned that apparently, there exists a kind of deaf in which it was hard to hear things that were too loud. Which. You now had.

No more concerts. Meh.

The most jarring of everything was when you discovered that a) you were likely to have either trauma or ptsd and b) the guy that carried you to the hospital in his Gundam- was a Gundam Pilot. 02. Duo Maxwell. He’d brought you to Colony 14 Blue and was now reportedly “chillin’ outside until you get discharged.” with the promise that he’d bring you to the Peacemillion afterwards.

Oh. And almost everybody you knew closely had “likely” passed away in the attack. The therapy for that was going to be interesting when you consider that nobody of your family was on the colony at the time of the attack. Honestly the way they were pressing for you to be evaled made it feel like they were planning to make an example out of your supposedly poor mental state. Unsurprisingly the hospital was being run by the White Fang.

Discharge went quickly. The ride back to Duo’s Deathscythe went quickly. The ride in Duo’s Deathscythe went far, far too slowly. And adjusting to life on the Peacemillion went poorly.

Every now and again, Duo would look for you and, if he hadn’t immediately come from a fight (he passed out on your carpet once due to blood loss after being in a gunfight. Zechs was less than appreciative.), he’d bring you to the nearest colony. Being able to enjoy a day out on occasion was a rarity you usually only got to experience with Duo.

“Ooooi, Duo. Check these out. Tell me these aren’t the coolest gloves you’ve ever seen.” You held up some black fingerless gloves for him to inspect. He’d brought you to a new colony, where apparently a special holiday (complete with fun sales) was happening. Admittedly, some of the people on this station were giving you and Duo some especially strange looks whenever Duo would tug on your shirt or grab your hand to get your attention but like. Fuck them.

“Hey, those look pretty awesome!” he grinned and bounced over, snatching the gloves from your hands to look for a price tag. “To steal or not to steal, that is the question.”

You raised an eyebrow. So maybe the crush you’d developed on this overgrown child of a thief was growing. So what? It’s just a crush. Everything’s going to be fine. “Is the price tag expensive or something?”

Duo shook his head. “Exact opposite. There isn’t one.”

“Let’s just leave ten gilla and bolt, then.”

“...wicked.”

Normally the rides back home were silent and awkward, but after the rather exciting day you’d had, you were feeling especially chatty. Which wasn’t to say that there weren’t still awkward breaks in the conversation. It was quiet, sure, but a lot of things had been quiet lately. Being deaf to louder things tended to do that to a person.

Duo drew you out of your thoughts with another tug on your sleeve and pressed one of the gloves into your hand. “Here. Figured we’d both look badass with just one glove. Plus we match!” He held up his gloved left hand with an air of confidence. He wasn’t wrong, honestly. Wearing his braid the way he did, he already cut an impressive figure, but the gloves really sold the look.

You pulled on the glove he gave you, flexing your fingers to test it’s flexibility. After all, if you couldn’t engage in you and Duo’s elaborate handshake, you might have to ditch the glove altogether. Luckily the glove fit you well- functionality and style alike. Ten gilla spent well.

“Not bad. Y’think Zechs’ll get jealous?” Duo laughed at the idea.

“Doubtful, doesn’t he have Noin to get him cool stuff? Plus, I think his mask and that hair are defining accessories, what else does he need?”

You shrugged. “What gay wouldn’t love these? ‘M already enjoying mine ‘nd yours look more worn in than mine do. Solid fuckin’ proof right there.” Not like you could confirm or deny that Duo was gay. Honestly, you didn’t really care for his specific labels, but Zechs was definitely gay so it just helped further the joke. With his demeanor and his lesbian best friend? Could the flags get any gayer.

“More like pansexual on my account. Good to know your take on gender preference though. This mean I’m allowed to openly flirt with you now?” He leaned back into his seat, throwing his feet up onto the table in front of you and resting his head in his hands.

You raised an eyebrow. “Only if you promise not to ‘no homo’ me afterwards.” Duo pretended to fall backwards, clutching at the nonexistent pearls and acting offended. You two giggled when Sally came in from the cockpit to assure herself that somebody hadn’t just gotten a concussion. To which Duo immediately pretended to have a head wound of some sorts (you suspected he was being purposely vague) in hopes of attaining the candy that Sally sometimes had on hand.

Once she left (leaving you and Duo with strong warnings against fooling around more, lest Duo’s “head injury” get worse; to which you had saluted and replied, “absolutely no promises, ma’am!”) you shared a look with the brunette and tried to keep from dissolving into a fit of laughter. To your chagrin, it was a fail. You were laughing so hard that your stomach was starting to genuinely hurt. Duo was doubled over on the ground, wheezing unintelligible words and trying to hand you the lollipop that Sally gave him.

By the time you had managed to calm down and breathe, Duo was getting into the chair beside you and clutching his side. “I think I pulled a muscle from laughing so hard.”

“Yeesh, ‘m crying from laughin’ so much. Aah, this is what y’do to me.” You joked, wiping away tears from the corners of your eyes.

“Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry before,” Duo paused to think. “like, at all! Now that I think about it, didja even cry when I rescued you?” You shrugged again. The battlefield was pretty terrifying and if you hadn’t found it in you to cry from fear… well, you were feeling a lot of emotions during the whole ordeal. Who could really blame you? “Pretty tough that a fuckin battle didn’t even make you cry. Hey- my bit musta been pretty damn good to make you shed a tear!”

“Yeah, don’t let it get to y’head. ‘S just because ‘m crushin on you.” You mentioned casually, testing the waters.

“Full homo?”

“Full homo.”

Well, would you look at that. Now Duo was crying. What was with you two and tears today?

BONUS:

“You’re so cheesy.” You muttered to Duo, who was proudly holding up your guys’s fingerless gloves- which he had sewn a rainbow patch onto the back of.

He smiled, tugging your glove onto your hand. “Mhm. You love it though.”

Sighing, you returned the favour and pulled his glove onto his right hand. “You’re right. I love it. I love you.”

[all works found under the name "nayarablueglasses" are property of nayarablueglasses. please do not repost, claim as your own, or edit. i do not consent for my works to be part of any social media other then tumblr, including having my works be adapted for asmrs.]

[wreckofawriter]

Never Forget

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader

Word Count: 3,406

Warnings: None? Swearing?

Request: hello~ thank you so much for responding to my request, its amazing and i dont mind at att that u responded a little later. so, if u dont mind too, could you pretty please do a sirius x reader when sirius escapes from Azkaban and when Remus come to see him brings y/n with him (they were fiances) and he wanted to hug her or somethin’ she looks werid at him and ask “ dude, i know you from somewhere? “ and sirius is shock that she forget him after all and y/n starts laughing and hugs him so tight and tells him how much he missed him and that she could never forget him. bassicaly a lot of fluff? thank you 🥺❤️

A/n: Sorry this took so long to come out! I hope you like it!

  You had never considered yourself a vengeful person. In fact you found yourself quite the opposite. You had always been kind, kind to those who were kind to you and kind to those who weren’t. You had never insulted someone back or got someone in trouble on purpose, you had helped with some pranks, but nothing too harsh, you never, ever helped pull one on Snape, no matter how many names he called you or dirty tricks he pulled. You knew he was only doing because of your boyfriend anyway.

         Yes you the sweetheart of hogwarts was dating the Sirius Black. You weren't quite sure how it happened, it was like you were suddenly submerged in a pool of minty breath, leather jackets and musky cologne. And you loved it. By age 14 you were madly in love with him, but unlike every other girl in hogwarts Sirius actually began to return your feelings. Not to say he admitted it right away, hell it took Sirius two years of denial and eleven months of fear before he finally asked you out. You had accepted, but not without hesitation, he had after all been rumored to have slept with half the school. 

Surprisingly to everyone, even the gryffindor's best friends, Sirius had stayed completely and utterly loyal. He barely even looked at other girls, becoming oblivious to the flirtatious attempts they threw at him. 

Sirius became the best boyfriend you could ask for. He did everything for you. He would buy you gifts that were far too expensive, showering you affection, help you with anything and everything, for the first time in his life he truly felt love and he wouldn't have given it away for anything, let alone risk it with his own mistakes. 

It was no surprise to anyone when you moved in together after Hogwarts, your parents complained about it being too early but you managed to keep them docile. You also joined the Order of the Phoenix and was the maid of honor at James and Lily's wedding. You even received a ring of your own from a blushing nervous wreck of Sirius, a ring which you happily accepted. 

Your seemingly perfect life was shattered only a month before your wedding. 

You remembered the day clearer than you remembered most. You had been cooking, your y/h/c hair was put up in a disgusting excuse for a bun, the short blue skirt you were wearing paired with an oversized david bowie t-shirt that wasn't yours was covered by an already stained white apron that read ‘kiss the chef’ in red looping letters. The room had been full of steam, the scent of curry and cumin thick in your nose. You had a bad habit of eating dinner late at night, something developed because of the wacky schedule your job held. You had been waiting for Sirius to come back. 

You jumped a bit at the sound of your door slamming open. Harsh footsteps echoed through the hall, your eyes widened slightly. 

"Siri? Are you a-" your sentence dropped to the floor when he stumbled into your view. His hair was a tangled mess, his creamy skin broken in a harsh cut on his left cheek. His lips were parted slightly, he was breathing heavily. But the thing that struck you most were his eyes. The stormy grey was rimmed with red, irises tinted pink, a supernatural gloss making them shine unnaturally. The looked broken. They hold an impossibly heavy weight, like the world had suddenly crashed upon them. 

"James is dead." He croaked, his voice raged and breaking.

You dropped the pan that you were holding, its contents scattering the ground. "W-what?" 

"Lily too." Silver drops shimmered lightly down his face. 

You felt tears sting your eyes, your vision blurring, "What about-" your voice fell short in a broken cry.

"He's alive, but I don't know what's going to happen." He sobbed rushing towards you and collapsing into your arms. 

"We'll get him, right?" You spoke so softly and delicately, Sirius found the need to stop his breathing to keep you from shattering. 

"Y/n, they were sold out." He clutched you desperately shaking. 

"What?" Your brain simply couldn't process all this information. 

"They think I did it. Everyone thinks I told him where they were." His voice was so raw with fear it was unrecognizable. 

You just stood there stunned tears clinging to the inside of your eyelids as you felt your heart smash to pieces. 

"They think I did it, but I didn't." He sobbed, "Peter did, I tried to fight him b-b-but now everyone thinks I killed him too, and he-he's alive and they are coming to get me." Tears began to wet your shoulder. 

You were too stunned to speak. The feeling of absolute terror and rage swept you. 

"They're gonna take me to Azkaban y/n/n." He looked up at you and your heart shattered. He was broken, utterly and bitterly broken. 

You felt your already shattered heart clench in protest, begging you to look away from this train wreck of a man before it was hurt anymore. You let out a choked sigh. Before grabbing Sirius neck and slamming your lips roughly on to yours.

His lips were chapped and salty, tasting of blood and tears. You felt his shaking hands wrap around your waist as his tongue slipped past your lips. 

You reluctantly pulled away from the kiss, lungs burning dully. You felt your heart stop when you looked at him. Even completely destroyed in front of you it was impossible to ignore his beauty. His cheeks dusted a light pin, eyes blotchy and red, making the grey storms that lurked there brighten with a melancholy light. He remind you of autumn leaves, he was so pretty just before he fell. You pulled him back into your secure embrace, your heart thumping loudly. You led your hands up his back resting them on his shoulders and tugging him towards you. You felt him nuzzle into your neck, inhaling sharply, attempting to engrave the scent of your shampoo in his head. His hands slid to your lower back, resting on the helm of your skirt as he shook violently. 

“I love you.” You whispered through a thick wave of silent tears. You didn't let your voice break, too many things in that room had already been broken. “I love you so much, and everything is going to be okay. Its gonna be okay.” 

And that's how you stayed, standing in the middle of a steamy kitchen, in the smell of curry and cumin, sauce burning in a saucepan on the stove, half sauteed vegetables littered around you like strange confetti. You repeated the last four words you spoke over and over again until you weren't sure who you were trying to convince. You stood like that when you heard loud rumbling footsteps come crashing to your door. You stayed like that as the chant of your impending doom continued up the stairs. The door bursting open. Four Arours came into the small room. 

“Ma’m step away from him.” Spoke one of them.

“Sirius Orin Black you are under the arrest for the murder of Peter Pettigrew.” A young woman said. 

You could no longer hide your tears as you shook with wails, tugging him closer to you. “I love you y/n.” He spoke quietly into your ear. “I love you so much.” 

“I know,” You cried, “I love you too.” 

Just as you finished your sentence you were ripped from his grasp. You struggled, delivering a harsh kick to the crotch of the man who held you. He fell to the ground with a groan as you scrambled back towards Sirius. Your wrist was snatched by a different Arour when you just millimeters from him. You spun towards the ground at the sudden gasp and landed with a harsh thump, as soft whimper escaping your throat. 

“Don’t you dare touch her!” Sirius hollard Struggling with the two men holding him as he glared at the women who had dragged you to the ground, were she now also lay. One of the men raised his wand whispering ‘crusio’ Sirius let out a painful scream as he began to write in their grip,

Your vision went red. You landed your foot harshly onto the women Aruors face with a crunch. She shrieked as you darted towards the man holding his wand with a fiery rage. When you reached him you slammed your fist into his face with such force you felt your nails price the skin of your palm. He stumbled backward hand instinctively flying to his jaw, dropping his wand. You snatched the wand from the air and aimed it at second man prepared to unleash hell but before you could utter a spell. You heard a loud yell.

“Stupify!” 

You flew across the room; flying straight in to your china cabinet. You felt your head thunk loudly on something as glass shattered around you. Your back felt like a pincushion, the needles of glass lodged into it. Your vision danced as you felt blood seep down your cheek.

“You fuckers!” The voice sounded so distant, like it was deep underwater, “She didn't do anything, you worthless sacks of shit!” 

“Siri?” you quietly mumbled quietly and suddenly your vision went black. 

You had awoken in a hospital, eyes fluttering open to fluorescent lights. The strong smell of medication and sickness made you want to gag. Suddenly the moments before your world fell, came rushing back to you in a sick wave. You sat up quickly gasping as you felt a searing pain in your lower back.

“Be careful, wouldn't want you to rip out those stitches.” 

“Sirius?’ You asked excitedly. But soon your vision straightened and your eyes locked with a pair of hazel.

“Hey y/n/n.” Remus sighed, his voice strained. He looked terrible, his eyes bloodshot. Dark circles making his face appear sunken. The bright scars on his face blending with his pale complexion. 

“Remus where's Sirius?” you asked. Maybe it was all a dream.

Remus felt tears climb slowly up to his eyes, he gasped for air as if he was being strangled, “None of us saw it coming y/n. I didn't expect you to.” 

You let out a throttle whimper, “He didn't do it Re. I know he didn't. He would never hurt Peter orJames or Lily or Harry.” You gasped. “Harry?”

“You’re getting him,” Remus spoke attempting a smile that turned to a grimace. 

“Where is he now?” You could feel tears seeping down your right cheek but, but not your left. 

“Your house with your parents.” Remus respond as he watched you slowly raise your hand to the bandage just below your lf eye, now damp with salt. “From the china cabinet, your lucky you didn't lose your eye.” 

“Who were those Arours. I’m going to get them fired.” You growled lowly.

“I don’t know y/n but-”

“They used an unforgivable curse on Sirius."  You explained urgently to the man sitting beside you.

Remus cringed as you spoke his name. “Y/n. He was being arrested for murder, they can use whatever force necessary.”

“But it wasn’t necessary!” you cried out suddenly.

“Y/n/n, I don’t really think that’s gonna hold up in court. I mean it would be the word of four respectable Aurors, three of which you banged up pretty bad apparently, verses the confused and delirious fiance of a murderer.” Remus explained slowly as if he were talking to a child. 

You felt blood rush to your cheeks as a dull ache that reminded you slightly of hunger, lodged into your heart. “Stop calling him that.” Your voice was dark and dangerous, for a split second, Remus was completely and utterly terrified of you. 

“Y/n you’re going to have to come to terms with it eventually.” He sighed, his voice holding the disappointment of a mother scolding her child. 

“He didn’t do it, Remus!” You shouted, “How can you possibly believe that-that Sirius would do anything to ever hurt James, hurt Lily, hut Harry? Do you really think that he would do that. Do you truly think that low of him?” 

Each word you spoke was like a knife thrusting into his heart, “Y/n, you know how his parents were, how his brother was, how his whole family was. They had a stronger hold on him than he would ever care to admit, he was a lost cause.” 

“Fuck you, Remus.” You spat, “He changed and you know it. He wasn’t like them. And if you truly believe that he did it, you clearly didn’t know him at all.”

“Y/n-”

“No. You are just using your brain. Your stupid logical brain and you only looked at the evidence. Your not looking at the fact that Sirius loved James. He was like a brother to him. No, he was a brother to him. He saved him. And if you think that Sirius would ever do anything to hurt James, Lily or their son, get the fuck away from me.” 

The werewolf opened his mouth to speak but before he could utter a word you cut in. 

“I said get out.” 

He didn’t bother arguing with you. He could see the pain and misery that had consumed you. You were going to need time. You would come around eventually. 

You never did. 

The first year was the worst. The glances, the whispers, the points, the overwhelming sense of pity that made you just about want to drown. The only thing that kept you going was Harry. You had to stay sane, for him. If Harry wasn’t yours you would have gone crazy for sure, maybe ending up in Azkaban right next to your fiance. But you kept a straight face. And you pretended to accept what everyone else seemed to believe to be a fact. 

You continued in the Order but it soon trickled out as Voldemort became less and less relevant. Once you were done with the Oder you got a job as a lawyer in a small law firm. No one at the firm was quite sure how, but you almost had a magical way of getting witnesses to confess directly on the stand. 

You detach yourself from the magical world, know that soon you would have to plunge back into it with Harry soon enough. The years sped by, and soon enough you were taking Harry to platform 9 ¾. You damn near through up as you watched Harry walk onto that platform, images of a boy who had pulled your braids and helped you with Defense Against the Dark Arts years before flashed through your mind. It didn’t help that a young girl who impeccably resembled Lily kept looking your way. 

By Harry’s third year you were heading to Hogwarts every other weekend to watch his quidditch matches. He was better than James. You thought of James and Lily often. Harry looked like James, but his eyes. His eyes would always be Lily. You only dared to think of Sirius in the deep of the night. When it was so dark that you couldn't see your hand in front of your face. So late you could convince yourself it was a dream. There was only one person who you kept in your mind constantly. 

Peter Pettigrew.

You knew he was alive. You knew he was somewhere out there. You knew that he had murdered his best friends. You knew he was the reason Sirius was in jail. And you knew you were going to kill him. 

You never spoke of Peter but your mind was clouded by red visions of him. 

You had developed an unexplainable rage towards rats though. Well unexplainable to most. 

But you had finally figured you how to live your life. You had finally mastered the act of pretending when the headline broke. 

When you heard Sirius had escaped you fainted. Harry had shown you the paper and you had crashed straight to the ground. Not but a day later your house was swarming with Aurors. Another thing you seemed to hate beyond a reasonable amount. 

After the people you referred to as vultures left you had met up with Remus, who seemed convinced that Sirius was attempting to kill Harry. You had wanted to slap him. But you swallowed the ever-growing ball of hate and nodded along like a simple-minded bobblehead someone had just flicked. 

You knew you were being watched, you could see their eyes everywhere, following your every move. You kept quiet silently praying Sirius has lost his dumbass energy in jail and had enough sense to stay away from you. He did. 

Reus had called you at 8:00 at night. “Y/n. You need to come here right now.” his voice was so desperate that you couldn’t refuse.

“Where to?” Your voice was a hushed whisper. 

“You know the place we used to camp as kids? James would always try to scare you and always end up getting punched in the face.” 

“Of course. How could I forget?” You giggled slightly the memory of campfires and smores, the feeling a leather jacket that was always wrapped around your shoulder. “I’ll see you in five.”

You once again filled your head with images of that small clearing, the large tree to the right side that you would always try (and fail) to climb. The circle of stumps you had dragged over as James harassed Lily. The scent of pine always so strong and fresh.  And then you opened your eyes and you were there. 

The stumps were decaying into the ground, moss covering them like a blanket of green. Dusk was setting in and the world was growing dark. You could see the lights of Hogwarts in the distance. You glanced up your eyes landing on the one star that shone brightly in the heavy grey sky. 

“Sirius.” You mumbled to yourself. The name rolling off you tongue so easily it hurt. 

“Y/n!” Remis ran towards you his eyes wide with a mixture of panic and excitement.

You turned towards him whipping your hair around. For a second you could have sworn your name had fallen out of someone else’s lips. 

“We have to go. Come on.” 

You followed obediently until you reached the outskirts of the forest. 

Remus stopped suddenly running back to face you. “You have to change.” 

“Change?” you asked. He nodded expectantly. Suddenly you remembered. “But Re I haven’t-” 

“You need to.” 

You sighed closing your eyes and intaking a sharp breath. You felt yourself shrink and grow a fur coat until when you opened your eyes you were looking at Remus’ knees. 

The werewolf smiled down at the pretty black dog below him. You smiled wolfishly at him flashing a pair of sharp k-9 fangs. He just chuckled before sprinting through the grounds. 

You followed easily jogging beside the man. When you reached the whomping willow you wait for Rums to pull his trick before darting into the small cave at its trunk. 

As the cavern began to open up you switched back, happy to be walking on two legs again. Remus soon caught up with you as you entered the shrieking shack. 

There he was, his back turned, hair a frizzy mess you almost giggled childishly at. You felt your heart soar to your throat.

“Ah, Moony, took you lon-” His sentence dropped. As he turned. His eyes locking with yours as you struggled to keep a straight face. Sirius’ eyes widened mouth dropping. “Oh my god.” 

He took two steps toward you, so hesitant and careful, as if moving any faster would cause you to bolt. “Y/n?” his voice was broken. 

“I’m sorry?” You spoke holding back a shit-eating grin, “Do I know you from somewhere?”

His face crumpled and you felt a wave of guilt was over you. He stumbled backward stuttering for words. His mind spinning.

Finally, you broke into a smile, “I’m only kidding Siri.” you giggled, only seconds after you finished your sentence you felt your body collide with his.

His arms wrapped around you so tight you felt your breath squeezed form you lungs. Your heart raced as you nuzzled closer to the man, you felt tears prick your eyes, “I could never forget you.”

Taglist: @accio-rogers @roslea @k3nz-doodl3 @songforhema

[kpop-bg-roleplay]

(I've decided to send all of our replies in one here for an overview so far! The rest of our rp is going through asks!)

Finding the same nine people you were joking around during the day, carrying weaponry and dealing with drugs in a dimly lit alley way was more than a shock to your system. The first to acknowledge your presence was Hyerin, and holy hell did her expression carry a complete 180' from how she looked that morning. Was this really the same person? "Elise, what are you doing snooping around? The night is a dangerous place."

-----

"I was about to go home actually", I answered her while holding my grocery bag slightly tighter in my hands at the scene in front of me. "What did you do to those people?", I asked the whole as my body language showed tensed up shoulders, ragged breath, pupils widened and having an even more paled up face than usually. The scene in front of me could be out of a crime scene. Bodies on the ground and only the guys I've called my so called friends standing in the middle of it.

------

All she did was look at Hongjoong, who immediately caught onto what she was thinking about and ordered the others to get back in the group car. Joining his right-hand, Hongjoong rolled his eyes, "None of your business, unless you'd rather get scarred."

------

"Alright. I've never seen anything", I asked him as I morphed my face completely blank despite my stiff posture before looking behind me briefly and then making my way, passing the car while only shaking my head in dissappointment at Hyerin.

------

They had no other business that night, and returned to the car before Seonghwa drove back to the cafe. Sighing as they all walked inside, Yunho  needed very little incentive to gather intel on you; you had found them out - in a way - after all.

------

"I'm home", I called out and walking inside my house to sort my groceries inside the fridge. I didn't hear anything besides the Amazon Echo greeting me back. Walking inside the living room to turn the lights on, with a beer glass in my hand I then went ahead to recall the memories of what happened a few hours ago. The bodies on the ground, Hyerin and the others being completely different from how I know them and knowing now that they're somehow involved in something criminal, I've decided to stay away from them as good as possible.

------

Finding your location, then everything else about you was easy. Yunho scoffed as he made his way through your systems, who actually kept Echoes? Especially when they're such easy targets. Yeosang couldn't have agreed more as he rerouted through the smart devices in your home, the data falling in his lap like candy. Meanwhile, Hongjoong, Seonghwa and Hyerin were in the leader's office discussing what they would do with you. Leave you and possibly risk having you reveal them to the police, or keep you under watch.

------

"And... another night alone with no friends to help me finish my food from yesterday", I sighed softly to myself as I looked at the time and walking upstairs to the attic. I opened the door to reveal hundreds rolls of paintings I've been doing in the past. When you walk upstairs, you can smell the plastic mixed in with a white substance called C17H21NO4 or for the Day to Day person between us, Cocaine. I use that particular powder in my paintings, hidden in the pigments and the paper that can be used to smoke it as a cigarette or joint. I've had some encounters indirectly with the dealers from BigHit and Pledis but had managed to keep my name clean up until now. I've started early with selling it in the black market as dupes for certain museums. The actual thieves swapped them out with mine and I can still see one of the not caught paintings in the next Art museum. Nobody has to know that unless they start to actually burn the paintings that most of these are priceless. I always have them in big jars that are labeled as Sugar and Flour, one being more intense than the other but the results are mostly the same.

The thing is, I started at the age of 15. I was stupid and unknowingly sold them online to finance my living expenses for some pocket money after my escape from the organization. Then I found out about it through an unknown source that works for those people and...here I am. Not even Hyerin knows about it, because I always lock the attic and most people wouldn't be assuming that there are illegal drug paintings in there in the first place anyways. She never seemed to be interested in it and asked me questions.

Here I am, making sure that my newest painting gets sold online as the address is always changing in alphabetical order. It can't be the same route as it's another drug dealers territory and he's a scary bulky man that I ALMOST broke his nose when we were talking the first time I've put it in there. I got away with a few bruises anyways, no big deal.

A few days since then passed after the encounter that they're in the mafia and I kept my distance with each member of Hyerins friend group. I went the other way when I heard familiar steps, excuse myself from attending classes and turning in my assignments online, and I ignored Hyerins texts and calls as good as I can. But...the Mafia people are persistent more than the scam callers or mild inconveniences on the street to make you donate to a charity.

I heard my bell ring one night on a Saturday, while I was finishing my painting for the night. I kept the door to my attic open and walking downstairs with my mask on before opening up. Well, it wasn't for sure the neighbors that got my packages or the delivery guy I've been waiting on for 20 minutes. It's them. And I immediately tried to close the door shut.

------

A week's worth of research, intelligence gathering and hacking on part of Yunho and Yeosang had paid off. And they weren't in the mood to be patient. In silent agreement, Seonghwa and Mingi kicked the door down together, the group walking in with a beyond intimidating presence. "Gather everything of value, I want to see this place ransacked, understand?" Hongjoong ordered, no room in his tone for debate. Hyerin seemed to have taken an interest in the jars, and began to walk towards you, "Interested in the world of narcotics, are we? How fascinating." Her words weren't scary on their own, but with a handgun in her hand and the more than evident danger she carried with her, Hyerin could induce a nightmarish fear in even the most hardened individuals.

------

"Do whatever you want, but if you want to take something... you have to pay for it first", I began saying and being to list all of the prices at each item they're holding, "You". I pointed at Mingi first who's holding my lamp, "I got it from Ikea for 25,99€ plus the light switch. You". I pointed to Hyerin as she's taking an interest in my jars of cocaine, "That includes highly concentrated cocaine and because it's opened it's going to be released in the air around us that will get us addicted. It's also 3000€ worth per kilograms. You." I then pointed at Yunho and Yeosang, "Individual paintings are worth 5000€ each, customized fakes are 10.000€ and up worth. The the ones you're holding are for my customers that pay lots of it and if you want to snatch it it's 40 Million€ worth. You". I pointed at San and Wooyoung carrying out my pigments, "I made these myself and they're mixed with the cocaine. I would say 500.000 in total and You."  I pointed at Hongjoong and Seonghwa that is taking a sit on my couch, "390€ and 5.99€ each of the pillows. And lastly, you." I looked over Jongho with a tired sigh, "Please don't raid my fridge...". I sighed softly before doing the math in my head, "That'll be 4.518.421,98€, please. I take checks too". And despite being terrified of every member of the Mafia people, I managed to sit down on the couch to cross my arms over my chest. Until I got a gun against my temple, which made me raise an eyebrow. My forehead started to sweat, my hands got clammy and my throat dried up immensely but I took a deep breath to calm myself down. "What are you going to do with me once you took everything out of my house and killed me? I mean, I didn't tell anyone about your hidden secret,Hyerin. I've lived my life in peace and didn't meddle in on your business. Don't you think that I deserve a different death than a gun against my head?", I began to speak slowly and looking at her direction with a small smile despite her glaring that already killed me, "I want to be killed in a different way, not like that"

------

Maybe the three eldest of Ateez had a twisted sense of mercy, or maybe they were interested, but once Hongjoong had processed how much money you could possibly bring in, he was at Herin's side, whispering in her ear. With an amused smirk, Hyerin put the gun back in the holster and chuckled, "Since my friend here is so~ interested in your works, Hongjoong thinks I should let you go." Her laugh was dangerous, as she called for the the others to bring the artworks to the van. Walking to you, Hongjoong crossed his arms, "You'll make us quite a bit of profit, you'll be pretty useful with us. " He remarked, voice twinged with interest. How much could you make them? Well, that was for them to find out. And it would cost you absolute loyalty to the mafia, and Seonghwa was still unsure whether you'd be a good fit.

------

"I choose death please", I replied blankly and sighing softly as I immediately shake my head at their direction and pointing at Hyerins gun, "Please shoot me, or roll me over with your car or burn me alive. Anything to satisfy your twisted fake conceptions of sadism."

------

A dark, slightly seductive (well, to the others, with you, who knew?) chuckle fell from the other female in the room, as she ran her tongue over her lips. Fuck, that was hot. Sadism? That would her be middle name. "Oh, oh~ I haven't been in the Crimson ward in so long~ maybe I should give our little friend here a personal tour?" She taunted, flicking your chin with the tip of her nails. "I agree with Hongjoong, let's take this one with us."

------

"Careful, I bite", I played along with with her and holding her cheek gently to kiss her forehead lightly, "But I would rather go ahead and begin suicide than leaving my house in the middle of the night. I can't leave physically this place, unless you want me to paint ugly paintings that aren't worth lots of money? I wonder what would happen if I just killed myself now?"

------

Okay, you were a brave one. Amused, Hyerin pulled you to your feet by you collar and whispered, her breath fanning your neck, "From now on, your life is in my hands, understand that? And don't you worry about the quality, you'll have a much better studio for your art." She saw something in you, and she wanted to harness that. The other members had long since emptied the apartment of your artworks, and they were in the van. They'd definitely sell to the highest bidder, and my God there were crooked curators who'd kill to get hands on your art.

------

"Let me say goodbye before I go", I requested to her and gently taking her hands off my collar to take a few steps back. "Would you be kind and wait outside? I won't take long", I added with a small smile that seemed almost too forced but I refused to cry infront of anyone

------

"Very well. Make it quick, and don't you dare think about running." Hyerin replied simply, her arms folded at her chest. Reading emotions was no effort, and it was clear you had no intention of streaking your face with tears in their presence. Walking by the door, she gave you one last look before she stepped outside, silently ordering the soldiers in the other cars to surround the building. Trying to flee wouldn't be a good idea, nor would breaking the miniscule amount of trust Hyerin had granted you.

------

Walking to my room that I usually put in my clothes in my luggage, I somehow played it off with no suspicion whatsoever for now. Taking out a piece of paper to then start writing a note to people who are going to be searching for me, at least I hoped that someone would care about me in my friend group. I sighed softly as I kept it short and simple to write down a simple note of me being taken away to a remote place for awhile. Wiping my tears away from my eyes as I hide the note in between the broken cracks of the house, I walked out of my room to do a last room tour to then join the group again. "My luggage, here's also my ID... I don't think I need it anymore from now on", I mumbled and avoiding their eyes as good as I can while handing my belongings to them. Walking over to the trunk, I willingly climb in to avoid talking to anyone as good as possible.

------

By the  time you stepped inside the trunk, the others had all piled in and were more than just a little impatient to get back. Taking the wheel, Seonghwa pressed his foot on the gas and soon you found yourself on the way back to the...cafe? The Twilight Cafe was probably the most innocent looking cafe on the street, and that's where they were returning to?

What?

Parking round the back, the members all filed out, entering the cafe and taking a seat. The three eldest remained, ordering the soldiers to bring your belongings into the main part of the building, and Hongjoong pulled you out of the trunk, a bored stare in his eyes.

"You'll be escorted to the living quarters. Don't cause any trouble; I'm not looking to get my gun out right now."

------

"Yes, Sir", I replied in a small whisper, following the people inside while keeping a straight face. I couldn't even hide my stiff posture, how I'm holding my hands behind my back as if I'm a prisoner and the bloodied underlip that I've bit on the whole time. It didn't help my situation at this point on how my stomach started to rumble loudly during the ride and how nauseated I'm feeling due to motion sickness.

I didn't look around the cafe at all, too scared to anger even more people and knowing that I'm not going to get my freedom back at all is the worst thing that could be happening to a human being. I know that I'm fucked at this point. Sometimes I wished to be not able to draw or paint, maybe then I'd be a normal person with a bright future.

'I want this nightmare to end already... please help me', I thought to myself almost desperately and started to pray in my head already. I'm thinking of ending my life at this point, ending the pain and start somewhere new. I think it's out of question right now and the pressure only pumped up my adrenaline rush in my system. My survival instincts are tingling and my heart beats even louder than a hammer against a wall.

The steps stopped ultimately, and I snapped out of my trance. It's a small room, enough to sleep in and change your clothes. Plus an attached bathroom, that didn't have security cameras. I'm slightly thankful for it at least, they give me the privacy to an extent. I didn't think much of what happened afterwards, nodding along the order for tomorrow and I was finally alone. Alone as I can get, at least.

So I quickly walked inside the bathroom to get everything out of my system and let my guard down. I cried in silence, hugging my knees and hiding behind my hands to muffle out my sobs. "I want to...go home", I whispered gently to myself and swallowing thickly, my body started to shake violently due to the pressure. I'm currently having a panic attack and I couldn't control it entirely. For some reason, I managed to pass out on the bed, shaking violently to the core and desperately trying to stay conscious to not cause even more problems.

------

Once you had been escorted from the initial cafe space, Hyerin immediately got up, getting her phone to discuss the latest findings with the financial heads at KQ -one of which she was a deputy to. There was much to discuss. And she'd definitely have to work overnight to draft up a reasonable report to KQ.

Among all the staff that walked around the complex, one stood out. Younger than Ateez's youngest, a high rank that almost rivalled Ateez themselves. With a tablet in hand, she walked through the dorms until she arrived at your rooms, a mutter of 'this wasn't used before...' coming from her.

She entered your room, making no announcement that she was entering. Maybe she had received similar training to the mafia members themselves, because her presence was palpable in the air. She tsked when she saw your condition, placing her tablet on the windowsill and walked over to you.

"Come to your senses, you've been brought here and you need to hurry up and accept it. Now what's you name? I have to provide KQ with accurate reports."

------

"Elise Liddell, Ma'am. I would appreciate it if I could use this night to eventually finish my mental break down until tomorrow morning", I answered her as quickly as possible, almost making it sound that I've rapped and my still shaking body leaning towards the cold wall. Wiping my tears away from my eyes, I avoided her gaze despite listening to her instructions intensely. "I'm just an ordinary artist, my paintings aren't real to be original.", I continued further, then quieting down as I don't want to spill out more information about myself and why I'm even doing my current profession as follows. 'Over my dead body, I'll be free in no time, even if I have to plot against them somehow', I thought, straightening my posture and eventually looking at the person nearby the windowsill. "What am I supposed to do tomorrow morning? I have to go to college and I don't want to be raising suspicion over my disappearence that soon", I asked her, coughing slightly as the crying made me thirsty, yet knowing that those bastards are going to love it to see me dying of dehydration soon.

------

The girl almost laughed. Almost. Scoffing, she tilted her head and gave you an overly sweet smile. But her eyes held something much, much more dangerous. "I'm not going to stop your precious little mental breakdown, go right ahead~."

The very idea that Ateez had someone as young as the girl in front of you working with them definitely seemed off.  Shouldn't she at least be in school? Reaching for her tablet, she was quiet for a moment before meeting your eyes.

"Ateez will take care of that. If you require something to drink I will put in a notice for the staff to provide a water dispenser."

------

"The absence of me entering college should be because I got either pregnant and have to leave due to my VISA or because I'm going back to Germany to fulfill one of the courses there. Any other reason isn't acceptable at all", I sighed softly and nodding slowly at the water dispenser for my casual use. "Anything else that I need to know?"

------

All she did was roll her eyes. It wasn't her problem, neither did she care. Whatever excuse they came up with would have to be the one you accepted. "You're not to enter Hongjoong, Seonghwa or Hyerin's office without letting either them or myself know beforehand." About to continue, her focus is drawn to someone calling her name.

"Minnie, you're needed in Seonghwa's office."

"Okay Kai, I'll be there."

At least you knew her name. Leaving the room and shutting the door behind her, you were left to your own devices, and thoughts, again.

------

'If she's going to tell them what excuse they should use in order to get me out of there, they also don't know who I'm close in contact too.', I thought to myself, drinking the water that Kai brought earlier to then walk to the bathroom and using some of the time to clean myself up as good as possible. The room had my luggage inside and instead of hyperventilating the whole time, I looked straight at the camera to flip off with my perfectly long nails to the person who watches me now. The ordering process of my stuff, made me calm down just a little bit, despite the shaky hands and the low blood pressure I'm feeling on my body the whole time. I sighed softly to myself, taking out my Notebook to write down the first informations about today.

----

Holy shit I forgot how long our responses were. Also I am practically gonna include eveny group I stan in this plot.

The rest of the complex was active, like a city that never slept. Throughout the night, footsteps rang through the building, staff - and some of Ateez themselves - working the night shift, keeping all operations stable. One location in particular that was lit up like daylight was the camera and intel rooms, where Yunho was asleep on a bed in the back, while Yeosang watched the moniters with his team, rolling his eyes as he checked the camera in your room. Thank God he’d only have to keep that camera installed for another few weeks. Watching new arrivals for their three month probation period was a pain, and more often than not he left the task to some unsuspecting staff. And that’s exactly what he did.

“Hey, Yang Jungwon, watch our new arrival, I need a smoke break.”

“Y-Yes Sir!”

[thor-tony]

Consider this: Thor/Tony high school pining idiots AU

The Avengers are in their senior year and part of student government which includes a senate committee. Their positions are as follows: Rhodey- Presiding Officer; Pepper - Treasurer; Bruce - Secretary; Sam - Senator of Discipline; Thor - of Athletics; Nat - of PR; Tony - of Student Life, Clint - of Service, Steve - of Academics)

The committee members are all good friends with each other but they also have their own close-knit group of friends outside of the committee that they moan to about their crushes

Thor and Steve are also in the football team (duh)

Tony likes to watch them practice after AP Physics and likes dragging Rhodey with him. He always claims that he’s just there to support Happy as well as his friends from student gov. Rhodey knows better and teases him and urges him to stop acting like some teenage girl in an anime watching senpai practices on the side hoping senpai would notice him. 

Tony doesn’t know if he should be concerned how Rhodey knows all those anime references or if he should be really doing some self-reflection. But as far as he’s concerned Thor and Val are an item, or at least have something going on. Val is a year below them, she’s highly competitive with Thor but they also have this tension between them which Tony thinks would be really hot if he wasn’t pining for Thor. And she’s going to be the Senator of Athletics next year for sure. The two are just so close and they’re always laughing and hugging and they’re so perfect and excuse Tony for a sec, he’s wallowing in his sorrow again.  

When Tony’s not feeling sorry for himself, he’s offering the football team based some strategic plays on his observations. The team of guys who are mostly 6′2″ all respect this tiny compact 5′9″ genius, and some would say adore, which is especially true for a certain linebacker with a thunderous laugh. Tony’s presence always motivates him to put in extra effort at practice. So maybe he’s a bit of a show off but he wants Tony’s attention. Tony’s smart, funny and attentive, and offered to get him greasy breakfast food and a hangover cure when Thor came to school after a wild house party one day. Thor’s never forgotten that act of kindness and care.

Then one day before practice, Steve, who’s also captain of the football team, runs up to Tony before practice begins, to express his thanks for Tony’s input and support as they'd won their game the night before, which was against their biggest rival Hydra High. Tony’s taken aback by the genuine gratitude being expressed towards him, and from Steve, of all people, who always challenges/disagrees with him during their senate meetings. He’s not used to this and he blushes from the praise.

School gossip circulates the next day on the Daily Bugle section of their school’s smartphone app. Everyone in the comments section is wondering if the Captain has captured The Tony Stark’s heart because someone has snapped a picture of that moment with the two yesterday. Tony doesn’t pay much attention to the rumours because he’s used to being the topic of people’s conversation -- it kind of comes with the price being a Stark -- and it will soon be yesterday’s news anyway. 

But now Thor is really bummed by the rumours, and it’s all making sense now why Tony watches their practice all the time. And it also explains the whole Tony and Steve glaring staring-at-each-other-until-someone-clears-their-throat thing at their meetings. And it doesn’t help overhearing what Tony’s been saying to Rhodey over lunch. (Yes he’s pathetic, as his brother has kindly reminded him, choosing a table so ‘causally and coincidentally’ next to Tony’s so he can be closer to him in hopes of getting a smile from him)

At the table a couple metres over, Tony’s been saying to Rhodey something about luscious blond locks and a golden smile that warms the whole galaxy, a spirit so vigorous yet gentle like the morning sun, and, “he’s so kindhearted and funny and those muscles !! Rhodey!! I’ll admit it’s shallow of me but it’s a work of art, I’m only human, and we all strive for beauty and art.” 

When Tony and Rhodey turn to leave, they notice Thor’s been sitting right next to them this whole time and oh shit, he’s not supposed to hear that oh no! He must think I’m shallow only lusting after him, and he’s gonna avoid me now congrats for blowing it Tony! Great!

Tony gives them a tight smile turns on his heels, and Thor is even sadder now. Not only has he lost Tony to the Captain, but now Tony’s mad at him for eavesdropping. Even Loki can’t tell who’s Tony is talking about and he wouldn’t be surprised if the rumours turn out to be true. He can only pat his brother’s slumped shoulder and offer him his ice cream as consolation.

Now in comes Steve, who may be a bit of a disaster when it comes to his own love life but he’s observant and he can tell when his friends are into each other. He knows about the rumours going on and he uses them to his advantage, teams up with Rhodey so they can work together to get their friends’ heads out of their asses and admit their crushes on each other. Thor and Tony are being dumb, okay, and the rest of their friends are really tired watching them blush and stammer at each other or moaning about each other at lunch when they can just be making out under the bleachers instead and their friends can finally eat in peace.

So Steve decides to rile Thor up a bit, play up the rumours and make them seem true. In the locker rooms before practice he’ll be singing Tony’s praises, saying, “Tony really had an incredible idea for our next charity event, don’t you think, Thor? He’s got such a great business sense. With Nat’s help I’m sure they’re going to get a lot of sponsors. He’s so great.”

Thor, through gritted teeth, says, “Yes, he’s wonderful. You know I think he’s amazing.”

Steve: “He sure is! We had lunch together today --”

“I noticed.”

“-- and he was so cute when he had trouble opening his jar of chia pudding -- apparently he’s trying to eat healthy at least once a week. Anyway, I got it open for him and he was really sweet. He went on and on about how much he’s appreciative of big muscles paired with shiny blond hair, and how he loves watching football practice because of the way our pants fit. Isn’t he the best? He’s outside now waiting for us to go out and start practice and man, I’m just so glad to provide him with a nice view when he’s sitting on those bleachers watching us.”

And if Thor had bothered parsing out those words, he’d realize that everything Steve had described was vague enough that he could totally be referring to himself and insinuating that he and Tony are an item (or close to being one) OR he could be talking about Thor and how Tony loves watching him.

But Thor’s seething, okay, he’s annoyed because Steve KNOWS how much he’d always liked Tony. He doesn’t need to rub it in like this. Thor’s frustrated af because hello???? He has all those qualities that Steve described too??? Why can’t Tony look at him instead of stupid perfect Steve???

Thor’s a dumbass.

A week later, Thor, Steve, Nat, and Rhodey are sitting at lunch together so they can discuss their group project for their environmental science class. Of course, things get off topic and Homecoming is brought up. Nat mentions she’s going to be sending out another email to the student body about nominations for Homecoming king and queen, and reminds the guys that they need to send Pepper daily updates on how many tickets they’ve sold. Steve nudges Rhodey a bit and nods at Thor, which prompts Rhodey to go, “You know, Tony’s been waiting for a certain blond football player to ask him to the dance. And if said football player doesn’t do so soon then Tony might think the worst of himself and wallow for the rest of the month. I’m probably gonna have to give up my homecoming plans to console him for that entire weekend. Bring him ice cream, watch Star Trek with him until he forgets about aforementioned football player.” He says that last part very, very pointedly.

Thor’s glaring at Steve when he hears this. He thinks, what the fuck dude? He’s your boyfriend and you haven’t even asked him to the dance yet? You don’t know how to appreciate him, ugh, I could do so much better.

At the same time, Steve turns to Thor, cheeky shit-eating smile on his face and says, “You heard him. When the hell are you going to get your act together and ask Tony out, huh? If you wait any longer someone else is going to snatch him off the market.”

And Thor’s so confused because wait, Steve isn’t dating Tony??? He wants to smack himself because what the FUCK, he’s an idiot. Tony likes him back and they could have been dating and sharing milkshakes and sitting together at lunch this whole time if Thor had just asked Tony out for a coffee in junior year when Tony offered him that hangover cure.

So Thor gets up, marches over to Tony’s table with half his lunch -- an uneaten cheeseburger (he ran out to Burger King and bought two that day -- he gets hungry, okay?) -- and the thermos of coffee he keeps in his bag and presents it to the school’s resident genius.

Tony, who’d been alternating between complaining to Pepper and Happy about not having a date to the dance and gazing longingly at Thor, is completely surprised by his crush’s sudden appearance by his side.

The blond cuts to the chase. “I know this isn’t the fanciest way to ask, but I didn’t want to waste any more time,” he tells Tony. He pushes the food over to Tony, knowing that he’s weak for junk food and caffeine, and, apparently, Thor. “Would you accept this greasy burger and unfortunately lukewarm coffee, and, perhaps, go to homecoming with me?”

Clint, who’d been watching and lazily shoving waffle fries in his mouth, goes, “fuckin’ finally, god.”

“Shut up, birdbrain,” Tony says without even looking at Clint, because he’s too busy staring at Thor with heart eyes and wow, is that a flush of red creeping up Thor’s neck? He’s adorable.

Of course, Tony says yes. And just for the record, that was the best way anyone has ever asked him out.

[millysaurusrex]

I love your stories. Could you maybe write something about Gendrya naming their first born son Sandor? Thank you!

Father

Arya loved her father more than anything. Ned Stark was the greatest man who ever lived, if she had anything to say about it. She remembered gathering wild flowers from the fields in summer for him, and the smile that would crinkle his eyes as she presented him with her messy bouquets.

Her father never scolded her for playing with her brothers, and always laughed when she’d sneak away from her sewing lessons to best little Bran in archery, even when her mother would fix him with a stern look. He was the only person in the world who seemed to love her for who she truly was - well, except for perhaps Jon Snow - and Arya worshiped him for it.

He was kind and just and honorable. As a child, she had thought honor the most important trait a person could have, and Ned Stark was considered the most honorable man in the Seven Kingdoms. But the way that some men sneered the title, the honorable Ned Stark, made her think that not all were impressed by her lord father. She had never cared what they thought - what were the opinions of a few jealous lords compared to her beloved father?

But, in the blistering heat of the South, she learned that honor could very well get a man killed. It had killed her father. And with the swing of a massive sword, her faith in honor rolled down the steps of the Sept along with her father’s head.

—-

The journey up the King’s Road to the Wall was arduous and bloody. She often felt close to death each time a team of bandits decided to rob their little camp or a particularly daring prisoner took an interest in her. Yoren did he best to shield her.

“Until we reach the Wall, you’re no longer Arya Stark,” he hissed in that accent of his that reminded her so much of home. “You’d do best to remember that, lest you want to have every raper here seeing who could put their bastard in a high-born girl.”

He was not one of her father’s bannermen, instead a sworn brother of the Night’s Watch, and a close friend of her uncle Benjen. He’d been the one to smuggle her out of the city. He’d shielded her eyes as the Mountain took her father’s head before a cheering crowd. Yoren was certainly not her father, but he was as devoted to protecting her as a father might.

So when ser Amory Lorch drove a sword through the back of his neck, Arya mourned for him.

—-

Beric Dondarrion was once a bannerman of House Stark. It might be strange to think that the leader of the Brotherhood Without Banners was once a lord himself, but Arya had regarded him with the cold disinterest that befit a man who broke his vows to his liege lord.

He looked different, but Arya supposed that’s what happened when a man was killed and brought back to life over and over. She had known little about the lightning lord when she was a child. (She was always far more interested in the stories of knights and dragon riders to care what other lords got up to.) And anyway, any man who abandoned his honor to be an outlaw and had no qualms about abducting children was no true knight to her.

“You’re not our prisoner, little lady,” He repeated Thoros of Myr’s earlier declaration. “We will get you back to your lady mother.”

“For a price,” she sneered. Beric shrugged.

“We do what we must to survive, little lady. And we need gold to survive.”

Later, she’d been laying by the fire when she overheard Beric reminiscing over his numerous resurrections with Thoros.

“Can you revive a man with no head?” She’d asked softly.

“Each time I awaken by the flames, I’m a little less the man I was before. Lord Stark was a good, honorable man. I would never wish such a life on him.”

She’d wanted to ask what an outlaw could possibly know about honor, but she kept her mouth shut. She’d been right, of course, because a moon’s turn later, he sold off her only friend to a Red Witch.

His name was added to her list for that.

(But years later, in the darkest recesses of her ancestral home, she’d cry over his beaten, broken body.)

— -

The Hound was a miserable old shit. He stank of wine and piss half the time and never seemed to care that it bothered her, even as she struggled violently against his strong grip.

“You’re not going anywhere wolf-bitch. Not until I get my gold from that twat of a King you call a brother.”

He’d been on her list for a very long time. She often dreamed about running him through with Needle. He’d killed Mycah. It’d be poetic justice. Her father always said that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword.

Robb would surely allow her the honor.

When they reached the Twins, she’d felt an almost ecstatic glee at the thought of seeing his head on a spike.

But, it wasn’t his head that would be lost that night. Robb had always looked so much like their mother…the sight of Grey Wind’s bloody head mounted onto her brother’s mutilated body would haunt her for the rest of her life.

She’d cried into the Hound’s armor that night.

He was there the first time she killed a man.

He was a Frey soldier. Some beady eyed fuck. She didn’t care what his name was or who he was, he’d been there with the others, had slaughtered her mother, brother and the good sister she’d never met. He’d declared war on House Stark by slaying Robb’s direwolf.

Had it not been for the Hound, she might have died at the hands of Frey’s, too. And when they sat eating the abandoned food surrounded by dead soldiers, he’d asked if that was her first kill. 

(She told him that it was her first man.)

She returned the favor in a tavern some time later. The Lannister soldier who stole her sword was there and he joined them at their little table, cheerfully insisting that the Hound join them to raid and pillage their way through the Seven Kingdoms. She still hated him, but she couldn’t help the smirk when he told the twat that king could go fuck himself. When the Hound flipped the table onto the Lannister soldier, he easily killed each of his men. He was fighting the last of the men when Poliver snuck up behind him ready to strike. Before he could deliver he killing blow, she incapacitated him, snatched back Needle, and drove it into his throat.

They shared a love for killing, or so Arya quipped much to the Hound’s chagrin. He snapped that he no one liked killing and laughed when she told him that she would have killed King Joffrey with a chicken bone, had she gotten to him first.

The last time she spoke to him, before he journeyed to the North to fight alongside her brother, he’d been dying. He’d demanded that she kill him and taunted her when she refused. Instead, she took his coins and made her way to the nearest shipyard.

(She’d taken his name off her list long ago.)

—-

Traveling with the Hound was not the cleverest of ideas, but Arya knew she’d prefer no other companion. He wasn’t the chatty type and neither was she, so they mostly journeyed to King’s Landing in comfortable silence.

Three days ride from the Red Keep, she found herself regretting her decision.

“Did he ever find you?”

“Who?” She asked, biting into the leg of rabbit she’d caught. 

“Who?  That bastard blacksmith of yours.”

She hadn’t expected him to bring up that. “Gendry?”

“Yes, the new Lord Baratheon. The twat nearly was nearly out of his trousers trying to find you.” His laugh sounds cold in his gravely voice.

She refused to look into his eyes. “He found me.” And that was that and neither of them bring up the new Lord of Storms End again.

—-

Losing her father had been the hardest thing she’d ever went through. Seeing the downtrodden look on his face had broken her heart because she knew he was dying the worst kind of death - the death of a traitor.

She never expected to feel the loss of another as boldly as she did her lord father. But, as they stood there in the crumbling shell of the Red Keep, she knew that her heart was breaking again. Saying goodbye was never easy, and Arya was alarmed at how difficult it was to part with the Hound. They had shared so much of their journey together, from the death of her brother to the battle against the dead. It was with a heavy heart that she realized that she could remember the Hound’s many lessons more clearly than those of her father.

He’d become somewhat of a father somewhere along the way, she supposed. And so when he demanded that she live, she knew she had no other choice but to obey. They would never see each other again, she knew. She’d gotten her revenge and now it was his turn to cross a name off his list, the only name on his list - Gregor Clegane.

“Sandor, thank you.”

It was the first time she’d ever called him by that name, the first time she ever said it out loud.

It made him smile.

—-

When she was little, she had loved her father more than anything. He was the only man who ever allowed her to be herself, and never blamed her for not being a lady.

That is, until she meets Gendry. Gendry loves that she rides horses and wears breeches. He never scolds her for sparing in the training yard - he makes the weapons she uses. He laughs when she makes unladylike quips at the lords who feel bold enough to remark on her behavior. When a man makes a vulgar pass at her he smirks and tells the little lordling, who is cowering in his boots before the burly Lord of Storm’s End, that it isn’t he that the lord should fear, it’s the lady herself.

Gendry is kind and brave and honorable. He stood by her side when they were children and he’d defended her even when he thought she was a little bastard boy named Arry. He’d gone beyond the wall with her brother and fought side by side with their allies when the dead came marching down onto Winterfell. He’d nearly lost his life during the battle of King’s Landing.

She once told her father that she’d never marry a lord, that it wasn’t her. And her father had smiled warmly and she’d felt loved. When she repeats the words again, it’s with a heavier heart, and the look on the newly legitimized Lord Baratheon’s face makes her feel like she’s run him through with her sword.

She tries not to think about that, though, because there is no use ruminating on the past anymore. Not when they’ve survived so much. Not when they have so much to live for.

(And so when she sees him again, standing in his new castle, with a new limp and a new name, she tells him she could be his lady.)

When they marry beneath the heart tree, she wants to weep, because it is Jon who takes her cloak from Gendry and not her father. She smiles happily at her beloved cousin anyway, and knows that he is watching down on her with pride.

House Stark has finally joined with House Baratheon.

—-

It takes a great deal of strength to be a good father. She’s met enough men and women to know what the loss of such a role model can do to a person. But, she also knows that a man does not have to be related by blood to be a good one.

However, Gendry will be a wonderful father. He dotes on her while she is heavy with child, and coos at her belly whenever their babe kicks. He never knew his father, Arya knows, but he is as loving and kind and honorable as her own. When she goes into labor, it is in the highest room of the single tower that is Storm’s End. Her dutiful husband refuses to leave her side, although his men insist that it is tradition for the man to go hunting during the birthing. He eagerly follows each and every one of her commands; even the most ridiculous, which makes him run up and down the stairs to and from the kitchens for fruits and honey.

He never complains, never argues, which makes her roll her eyes, because he’s never been afraid to tell her she can go shove it.

He will be a good father, she knows, because he stands there by her side and allows her to nearly crush his fingers in her deathly grip as they welcome their twin sons into the world.

(It is a surprise but a welcomed one, and Arya and Gendry clutch their babies to their chest.)

“We should name them after our fathers .” Arya says, staring into one of her son’s red screaming face. His eyes have not opened yet, but she hopes they’re Baratheon blue. “So, you’ll be little Ned.”

She smiles at her husband who is staring wide eyed at the screeching little bundle in his arms. “I never knew my father…it doesn’t feel right to name my son after him.”

She raises a brow and smiles. “Then what would you prefer his name be?”

Gendry looks at her then, those eyes she loves so much staring deeply into her own. “I think our sons deserve to be named after the brave men who taught their brilliant mother what honor is. He’ll be Sandor.”

“Sandor.” She whispers, and her heart feels like it’s going to explode.

[sufferthesea]

Fortune (Qrow Branwen)

Summary: Qrow, Tai, and the girls go out to eat to celebrate Tai’s birthday. They each get a fortune cookie.  Word Count: 1,857 Characters: Qrow Branwen, Taiyang Xiao Long, Yang Xiao Long, Ruby Rose Warnings: None Rating: General / No Ship Originally Posted: RWBY Amino (username: MutualOzpining), AO3 (username: akimikono) 

Qrow did not want to go out on such a night, but he hadn’t been given much of a choice. Between his nieces hounding him nonstop to train or play video games, and Ozpin sending him on missions one right after another, there was very little time to himself. He would rather not spend that precious free time in the presence of people he couldn’t hide from. But it was Taiyang’s birthday and — despite not having much love for birthday celebrations — both men had been convinced (or rather, coerced) into taking Ruby and Yang out to a restaurant to mark another year on Remnant. So after a mere fifteen minutes to get home and clean up, he headed out the door to meet up with the rest of his family. 

The restaurant was dimly lit with black and red lacquer screens blocking off the hostess stand from the booths. The screens were decorated in flaking gold images of wheat fields and cranes. There were more people than expected, considering it was a weeknight and there were many other (much better) restaurants in town. There were better restaurants right across the street. Still, Ruby and Yang insisted on this particular restaurant for some reason. 

It smelled like smoke and animal fat, and there was a distinct aroma like burnt oil hanging on the air that permeated the vinyl seats. The hostess, a kind but otherwise unremarkable woman in a black and red dress matching the paper screens, led them to their booth near the back of the dining room. She passed out menus that were almost as large as Ruby herself. 

“Would you like to hear the specials?” she asked, voice chipper but the bags under her eyes told Qrow that she was exhausted. 

“No thanks,” Qrow said, speaking for everyone. He had caught a glimpse of the sandwich board standing in front of the hostess stand that had the day’s specials scrawled across it. 

Leek and Salmon Soup. Liver and Noodles. Bok Choy Salad (sold out). 

He thought he would spare the waitress having to exert any more energy than she needed to. 

“What can I get you to drink?” 

Ruby cleared her throat, folded her hands onto the table and stared at the waitress grimly. “Do you have chocolate milk?” 

“We do, but it only comes in small glasses. It’s part of the children’s menu.” 

Ruby nodded solemnly, “Make it two chocolate milks, then.” 

“I’ll just have water, thanks,” Yang said, smiling brightly. 

“Are you sure, Yang?” Tai asked as he thumbed through the menu to the drink selection. “You don’t have to just get water.” 

“Yeah, Yang!” Ruby cut in, “Water is boring. We can make it three chocolate milks.” 

“I’m training for the Vytal Festival, Ruby. I’m not going to have any extra sugar before then.” 

“Why? Do you think you’re fat? You aren’t fat! Dad, tell Yang she isn’t fat!” 

“You aren’t fat, Yang —” 

“I never said I was! But I’m not fourteen anymore! I can’t eat as much sugar as Ruby! I need to be focused and —” 

“Chocolate milk helps me focus!” 

Qrow sighed, placing his chin in his hand and looked to the waitress. She seemed confused, startled even. She caught his eye and he decided it was now or never if he was going to order. 

“I’ll take whatever’s cheapest on your liquor shelf.” 

“Uh … okay.” She scribbled it down on her notepad. 

“Thanks, hon,” he said, giving her a small wink. 

Her face flushed redder than her apron and she stuttered out a question, asking Tai for his drink. 

“Ruby, please — just let your sister order what she wants. Yang, no one is calling you fat. Please, just — you know what? I’ll take whatever Qrow is having!” Tai motioned wildly toward the man sitting across from him. “I think I could use it!” 

Without waiting for another word, the waitress hurried off through the swinging doors into the back of the restaurant. 

Qrow rested his head heavier into his palm and tapped the tabletop with his fingertips. He grimaced the moment he realized his fingers were having a hard time bouncing back from the wood. It was coated in something sticky and something that he did not want to be touching. 

“Nice place they got here,” he muttered, sitting up and hearing the fabric over his elbow tearing away from the stickiness on the table.

The other three settled down enough to gloss over the menu. Ruby had naturally shuffled to the kid’s menu where at least the food sounded edible. Yang was trying to decide what food would benefit her most in the training session that would soon follow after dinner. Tai was staring at the prices listed down the right side of the menu, his eyes widening. For such a dirty restaurant, they sure charged an arm and a leg. 

Tai must have spotted something absurdly expensive because he immediately snatched the menus out of everyone’s hand and quickly said, “We’re all just going to share an appetizer and we can eat real food at home.” 

“Dad!” Ruby cried, “It’s your birthday! We’re supposed to have a special dinner!” 

“Sharing egg rolls is special,” Tai said as the waitress arrived with their drinks. After she distributed the drinks, he handed over the menus. “Which is exactly what we’re going to do. The egg roll appetizer, please. And then that will be it.” 

“Perfect!” the waitress said and this time she seemed to genuinely smile. She disappeared to the back again. 

“Dad, that’s not fair,” Ruby gasped as she stuck a straw into the first chocolate milk and slurped it down. “We’ve been waiting all year for your birthday dinner. We’re supposed to treat you!” 

“Treat me? Aren’t I paying for this?” 

“That’s part of the specialness,” Ruby insisted. 

“Yeah, Dad. It’s an honor to be the adult in this group.” 

“Nice try, Yang.” 

“What? Somebody has to be the adult, and it’s certainly not Ruby or Qrow.” 

“Hey, kid,” Qrow muttered, picking up his glass and swirling it around. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but only adults can drink whiskey. And what’s in my glass? That’s right. So that makes me an adult.” 

“I’m pretty sure your glass is full of future bad decisions,” Ruby piped up, already halfway through her second glass. 

Qrow huffed something like a curse under his breath and finished his glass. Soon the food arrived and the three egg rolls were meticulously split into four equal portions. It was quickly devoured and Tai even had the momentary thought to order something else when Ruby said she might pass out from hunger until he remembered the prices and decided against it. 

“Can we at least get a dessert?” Ruby exhaled, throwing her head back against the booth once she finished her final chocolate milk. “I think I’m gonna starve before we get home.” 

Yang nodded as she rattled the ice in her empty cup. “I agree.” 

“We’ll stop for something cheaper on the way home,” Tai said, throwing a few lien on the table. “Let’s get going.” 

They shuffled out of the booths and headed to the door. 

“Thank you,” Tai said, waving a hand in passing to the waitress. “Payment and tip are on the table.” 

“Oh, did you want a receipt?” 

“That’s fine, I don’t need it.” 

“How about your fortune cookies?” 

“Yes, please!” Ruby and Yang chimed in together. 

The waitress dug through her apron pocket and pulled out a few cookies. She handed one to Ruby, Yang, and Tai.

“How about you?” she asked Qrow. He grunted and she pulled out another one and put it in his hand, returning his wink from earlier. 

“What does yours say?” Yang asked her dad and she broke open her own cookie and stuffed it into her mouth, flattening the paper. 

“A friendly gathering is in your future,” Tai read from his paper. “Huh, I guess it means this friendly gathering!” He threw his arms around his daughters and squeezed their shoulders. 

Ruby chewed on her cookie loudly and read hers. “A business deal will succeed and you’ll be recognized for your hard work. Yang! Do you think this is referring to the Vytal Festival! Do you think I’ll win?!” 

“It’s not really a business deal, but maybe it has something to do with a mission we’ll be sent on! Those are business deals, right? Huh, mine says, Be careful of the company you keep. Not everyone is your friend. That’s ominous. Why did I get this and you both got really nice ones?” 

“It’s probably talking about Weiss,” Ruby said under her breath, then broke out into giggles. “Oh! Please don’t tell her I said that!” 

“I’m definitely telling her.” 

“Yang! No!” 

Qrow rolled his own cookie into his palm for a moment before breaking it open and pulled out the small paper. He smoothed it down and read it over silently. “Hm,” he grumbled, folding it and sticking it into his pocket. 

“Uncle Qrow?” Ruby called. 

“What?” 

“Can I have your cookie?” Her eyes focused on the food in his hands. 

“Oh, sure.” He handed the two halves to Ruby. 

“What’d your fortune say?” Yang asked. 

“I don’t remember,” Qrow said, heading out the front door. “You guys don’t really believe in that stuff, do you?” 

“Only when it’s something good!” Yang grinned at him. 

“Tai,” Qrow said as he ambled down the road, hands in his pocket, “why don’t you take Ruby and Yang to get something else to eat? I think I’m going to head home.” 

“But —!” Ruby cried, hanging onto Qrow’s arm. “It’s Dad’s birthday! You have to be with us!” 

“I was with you, kid. But it’s getting late and I have some business to take care of.” 

“Hey, sounds like you needed Ruby’s fortune instead,” said Yang. 

“Yeah, I still don’t know what business deal they mean. I can’t really see myself as a businesswoman.” 

The girls chattered amongst themselves while Qrow and Tai loitered behind. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to join us?” 

“Yeah, it’s just that Oz has me doing a lot of things. I’ve got to get back and work. I’m already pretty far behind.” 

“We can just get something quick for you to eat.” 

“That’s fine, I’m not really that hungry.” 

“Well, thanks for coming out anyway.” 

“Yeah. Happy birthday.” Qrow ambled down the sidewalk past the girls and nodded at them. “I’ll see you girls around later.” 

Yang and Ruby clung to Qrow’s arms again, releasing him only at their dad’s request. They waved goodbye as Qrow disappeared down the street. 

An hour later, Qrow was sitting in his apartment, another glass of whiskey in his hand. He stared blankly at the wall for a while before he reached into his pocket and pulled out the paper that he’d hidden there. He unfolded it between his index finger and thumb, and read it over. A small smile spread across his face. 

A happy ending is in your future. 

He hummed, finished the drink and set the empty glass on the table next to him. “Yeah. We’ll see.” 

[polar-stars]

Hi if it’s okay, 🕸 Rei/Kei and 🥧 Hironori/Kiyoko :3?

Fall-Themed Starters

Of course, it’s okay ! I initially didn’t plan to write today, but to be perfectly honest your requests were so cute and for the first one I quite instantly had an idea and so welp, I just got really excited to write these and now here we are !!

I hope you’ll like them, I certainly had fun ;w; 

Marketable Duo Rei/Kei - Send 🕸 to pick out a Halloween costume with my muse

“Come on now, before all good costumes will be sold out!” Rei commanded while dragging Kei through the mall. Her companion’s brows furrowed and he snarled. “Why the fuck am I here?!”

An indignant “Hmpf” escaped Rei, before she asked in an equally snarky tone. “It’s true that you technically do not need a costume for Halloween, because your fashion sense as it is is scary enough. However that still won’t get you a girlfriend, so consider this a chance to finally get something decent on!” “Maybe I don’t fucking want a girlfriend right now?!” Kei shot back immediately but it fell on deaf ears as Rei just exclaimed “We’re here” and accelerated her walk, pulling Kei into the costume spot she had aimed for. 

Once they were in, Rei shot a warning look to the fellow blonde and hissed. “Now, if anyone talks to us, watch your manners! I don’t want your image rubbing off on me!” Kei snatched his arm away from her grip and only rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” 

For one more second, Rei looked at him with narrowed, suspicious eyes before she finally let them trail to what she came here in the first place: The costumes. It was a more expensive shop, meaning the costumes were overall made out of better material and more detailed in their design than your regular Halloween Design. But of course that showed in the prices. Something that Rei did not mind however, but rather welcomed. She got money from Shigeo earlier, anyways. 

And so, Rei only began looking through the shop’s stock and inspected the various clothing varying from dark to colorful, from innocent to sexy, from devil to skeleton to policeman to hippie. Kei followed her close behind with a grouchy look on his face and his hands in his pockets. 

“Hm...” Rei mused while looking over a witch-costume. “Let’s see, I need something that will get Soren-senpai to notice me! So that he’ll realize, that I’d be the most perfect girlfriend.” She hard Kei groan behind her and afterwards saying. “Just pick something that you fucking like?” She swirled around and put her hands on her lips, pouting. “That’s not how it works, Kei!” Before she could give Kei the chance to respond, she seemed to have an enlightenment and exclaimed. “Oh! I got it!” She snapped her fingers. “A princess! He’s a prince after all! Yes, I should go with a princess dress! I have the overall personality of one already anyway.” 

“Jeez.” Kei’s yellow eyes rolled upwards again. But Rei pretended not to hear and only turned away again to search for princess-costumes. 

However just then, a woman dressed in a fine uniform approached the two. She had the typical saleswoman-smile and the perfect friendly voice. “Excuse me?” Rei made a turn once again, while Kei moved his head into the woman’s direction as well. The woman nodded at Rei. “I couldn’t help but notice your conversation and I would gladly offer my services for your endeavors. So may I give a suggestion?” 

“Oh!” Rei’s eyes lightened up. She considered for a few seconds before she gave one nod. “Why not?” 

The ends of the woman’s smile widened slightly and she bowed, before walking off. 

“Once she comes back, I should ask for a costume for you..” Rei commented and then eyed Kei from head to toe with a disapproving look. “That would be a real challenge for her. I look cute in everything, you however....” Kei’s teeth gnashed. “Yeah, yeah. You fucking said so already.” “I wouldn’t even know what you should dress up as!”

Before the discussion could continue however, the woman returned and to both of their surprises she had two costumes in her hands instead of one. One purely, white dress with a shining silver belt and an equally white, Kimono-esque robe with a brown belt. 

“There we go.” She chirped. “They newly got it most recently, a Princess Leia costume and a Luke Skywalker costume. Closely modeled after the original costumes in the movie and only made with the finest material of course. I figured it would be perfect for a pair of siblings and a classic, that always earns admiring looks.” 

“Wait....” Kei, raised an eyebrow and pointed to the costume of the world’s most famous Jedi. “You brought one for me as well?!” The woman blinked, as if surprised by that question. Meanwhile, Rei was examining the costumes with narrowed eyes while rubbing her chin.  She tilted her head, left and right, in deep thought.

Then she suddenly exclaimed. “I like it, let me try the dress on.”

The woman handed her the dress instantly with a sweet. “Wonderful decision.” But Kei gawked. “What the hell?!” 

Instantly, Rei gave him a sharp glare. “Leia’s princess dress is beautiful enough and I could tie my hair into those buns of her’s, that would be adorable! And the woman is right. Matching costumes always draw eyes on them and while I most certainly would prefer a matching costume with my one true love than my with my hooligan-half-brother from another universe, it’s good enough. And everyone likes Star Wars, so everyone will like me.”

Normally, Kei would continue arguing, but then he thought about how excited Rei had been when Shigeo had given her the money for the costume-shopping earlier and how clearly ecstatic she was for the party.

And so, he let out a loud sigh and held out his hand for the woman to give him his costume. “Fine, I’ll fucking try that on then.” 

“Stop cursing! You’re Luke Skywalker now, behave like Luke Skywalker and be noble!” “I am already going along with your damn plans, let me talk however the fuck I want!”

(The Saleswoman noticed their marketability)

Hironori/Kiyoko - Send 🥧 to bake a pie with my muse

“Thank you for the help, I suppose...” Hironori muttered as he took out the finished, baked macarons out of the oven. 

Kiyoko, who had just finished placing the icing on a small strawberry cake, gave a nod. “But of course! It was my pleasure. It’s such a lovely idea of yours to make a cake decorated with macarons for Kazue to give to Rei-chan. How can I not help with that?”

She took three of the macarons of the baking sheet that Hironori held out to her. One was light pink, the other was dark pink and the last was white with small pink sprinkles. She placed them neatly onto the cake and afterwards added a few additional raspberries to the arrangement. Hironori sprinkled bits of white chocolate over it. 

Their finished work was a professional, mouth-watering little cake fit for a princess. 

Kiyoko went on her tiptoes and reached out her hand to pat Hironori’s head, after they had inspected the cake long enough for them to decide it was perfect as it was. “Great work, today. You’re a very talented, young man. Though it’s not an all too big surprise, you’re a Saito after all.” 

Hironori raised an eyebrow at her eager patting but then just looked to the side and muttered. “Thanks I guess.” 

Kiyoko’s patting didn’t stop just yet as she continued her praise. “And additionally you’re being a good older brother to Kazue as well. I am very proud of you.” 

Once she finally took her hand off his hair, she clapped her hands together. “Now, time to make something for you to give to your suitor.” 

Now that took Hironori by surprise, as he quickly turned his head to her and exclaimed. “Huh?! Suitor?!” A light blush appeared on his face. “What suitor are you talking about?! I have no suitor!” 

Kiyoko only took out new ingredients while happily smiling, completely unbothered by all of Hironori’s denials. “We’re going to make a pie inspired by a dessert named ‘Feteer meshaltet’.”

“That’s.....That’s something Egyptian.” Hironori heard himself saying, almost as if he spoke before he could even process the information truly in his head. As if some sort off button had been pushed. Once the words reached his ears however, his head just got more red. 

Kiyoko giggled. “Seems like you got the idea. Now let’s get started on the dough.”

[theangriestpea]

Mercy Killing

TW: minor alcoholism

A/N: Enjoy the little bit of fluff in this chapter! May not be able to update until Friday but I’ll hopefully have a Tumblr exclusive blurb out before then. Cross Posted on AO3

Chapter Eleven: Hurt

“I’d like something a little stronger than caffeine.” The shaggy haired customer said as he looked at the menu placed on the wall behind Lavender. “You know, something that’ll keep me awake better than three shots of espresso.”

Lavender stared at him, her heart thumping loudly in her chest. Every time a customer came and asked her for something stronger than what they technically offered, she panicked. It wasn’t visible on her blank face, thank God. She was somewhat actually good at this.

“That’s cash only.” She said evenly, gauging the waters. Every person to ask for that bright color stick of powder, she immediately questioned whether or not they were an undercover cop. Maybe they were onto her. Maybe someone tipped them off. She felt like she was losing years off of her life from the stress alone.

“I’ll take two.” The man said with a sly smile on his lips. He had been told he could score here but he hadn’t actually believed his source. Now getting Jingle Jangle on the Northside was going to be easier than ever.

Lavender bent down to a cabinet hidden under the counter and took out two striped paper straws of stimulant. She placed them in a brown paper bag that they used for their pastries. “That’ll be ten dollars.”

“Ten dollars for just two? That’s ridiculous!” He said, raising his voice a little. “Come on, can’t you cut me a discount. Buy one get one free? Half off?” James had warned her about this. Said customers would haggle her but to only agree to it if they started to make too much of a scene.

“Ten.” Lavender said, her voice growing harder, “or you get none.” She wasn’t going to give in to demands that easily though. She had a quota she had to meet and she wasn’t paying out of pocket for what she didn’t sell or paying the price difference in what she sold at a cheaper price. Maybe if she was bad enough at this, they’d ask her to stop.

The customer slapped down a ten dollar bill and snatched the bag from her hands. Lavender took the bill and stuffed it into her pocket with the rest of them. She hated to admit how each transaction got a little easier.

Coming back to work this week had been rougher than she imagined. Sure her bruises were almost all gone and her ribs didn’t hurt nearly as much so she didn’t need anything stronger than a low dose of ibuprofen but the stress of selling drugs under the table was making her lose sleep. In fact, the only time she did sleep was when she passed out from drinking too much.

It had become a habit that she was trying to keep under wraps. Stupid things like spiking her drinks to make it look like she wasn’t slowly becoming alcoholic. Adding Kahlua to her coffee on her break. Putting a heavy dose of root beer schnapps in her favorite soda. Sometimes the occasional shot of tequila with her lemonade. And in the morning a screwdriver to ease away her pounding headache. Any excuse to drink was a good excuse to her.

If anyone noticed, then they didn’t say a word. However, Lavender had become pretty keen at keeping it hidden. There were mislabeled bottles stashed all over her house at this point. Luckily her friends didn’t have a habit of rifling through her cabinets.

Speaking of friends. She hadn’t spoken to Sweet Pea since Saturday after she woke up with him. She had been avoiding him, thinking it was easier that way. She hadn’t asked him to come over. Fangs was with her Saturday while Toni and Cheryl were with her both Sunday and Monday. Last night Fangs was with her again but she knew he had to watch his sister tonight. She also didn’t want to ask Cheryl and Toni again because she didn’t want to eat up all of the couple’s alone time.

Which left Sweet Pea.

She wasn’t going to call him. She had already made that decision. Instead she was going to heavy handedly pour her drinks tonight to try and get by without anyone. It needed to be his way. She needed to learn not to be afraid to sleep by herself. It had been three and a half weeks. No one was going to be with her all the time and she had to accept that.

As her shift came to a close, she had sold almost all of her product. It didn’t matter, James would be giving her more tomorrow after school when he pretended to be lovey-dovey with her. They were officially an item now. Well, to the outside world at least. They weren’t in Lavender’s heart and they never will be. She just had to buy some time as she figured out a plan that wouldn’t end up with her broken and beaten and tortured again.

She tucked her flask of Kahlua in with her bag as she stashed the Jingle Jangle in her locker to keep it safe. She double checked the combination lock, making sure it was secure before telling her manager a polite goodbye. Then she hastily made her way out of the coffee shop and to her car. Once inside she took out the flask and took a long gulp of the liquid, enjoying the strong aftertaste it left. A sigh left her lips as she threw it back into her bag and started the engine, making her way back to Sunnyside.

*~~~~~~~~~~~*

Lavender was alone in her trailer. The glass of root beer in her hand had been eighty percent schnapps and was now half empty. Her head span as she whimpered out a soft cry. How did she get into this situation? What exactly had her father done to the Ghoulies? How long was she going to have to work for them in order to pay back his debt?

The guilt was eating her alive. She never wanted to sell drugs and she felt like she was betraying the Serpents. She couldn’t even tell them the simple detail as to what they attacked her with (though Sweets figured it out, he hadn’t told anyone). How was she supposed to tell them that she was being forced to sell Jingle Jangle? Would they strip her of her jacket and send her on her way? Alone in the world with no one but James to continue to control her every move?

She found her finger hovering over an old text message conversation with Sweet Pea. It had been about a job they did months ago, nothing recent. A deep breath ran through her, sending a small shock of pain in her bruised ribs. She let the alcohol take the wheel as she typed out a half hazard message to him, asking him to come over.

An hour past and there was still no reply. She figured he was preoccupied with that annoying black haired girl that she couldn’t stand. It was just her luck too. The more time that slipped by, the more she drank. Her glass was empty and the world was fuzzy. This was better than nothing.

She heard her doorknob turn and her heart jumped into her throat. Had she forgotten to lock the door in her tipsy state? How could she be so stupid? The door opened and a giant filled the frame, looking more tired than he usually did.

Lavender blinked at Sweet Pea. She hadn’t expected him to come, especially after he didn’t answer her text. What was he doing here now? “I was doing a job for FP.” He said, not outright apologizing but there was a hint of it in his tone.

Her text had been garbled. Almost every word was so mistyped that autocorrect couldn’t even figure it out. Sweet Pea knew she had to have been drinking. He had suspected it at school as well just by the hazy look she had in her eyes half the time. He had even voiced his concerns to FP that night who said that he’d look into it but for the time being, keep an extra close eye on her.

Sweet Pea had known she would be alone tonight and he had planned on stopping by anyway. She had been expertly avoiding him since that day she came to his trailer and ran off, upset. He never found out what it was that she had come there for. Despite pretending like he didn’t care, he was at the very least curious. Word around school was that she and James were dating now, shouldn’t that make her happy? She’s been drowning herself ever since. Something wasn’t right.

“Rhodes…let’s get you to bed.” Sweet Pea said softly. It hurt him to see her like this. Perhaps everything that happened was finally crashing down upon her.

Lavender just nodded her head numbly. She stood up, stumbling a little before making her way to the bedroom. Sweet Pea followed her to make sure she wouldn’t throw up or pass out in some uncomfortable position. Plus, he missed being in bed with her. Not that he would tell anyone that.

She stripped off her shirt, too drunk to care about being modest. That’s when he saw them. The yellow and brown hand shaped bruise around her upper arm and the new light blue one around her wrist. She had been wearing a long sleeve shirt since it was colder outside now, it covered the marks perfectly.

Sweets gently grabbed her forearm, holding her arm out between them. Rage filled him and he had to remind himself not to simply explode on her. “What the hell is this?!” He asked, looking over the bruises, “did that bastard do this to you?” His voice was raised louder than he had intended. She flinched at the harsh sound, trying to pull away from him.

He let her go to give her space, Lavender fell into a heap onto her bed. Tears were trailing down her cheeks. “He’s a Ghoulie.” She muttered low, hoping he wouldn’t hear her but needing to say it nonetheless.

Sweet Pea knelt down in front of her, trying to look less threatening. He knew his size could be intimidating, so maybe getting closer to her would help ease her obvious nerves. She held her breath, waiting for him to react.

“Was he one of them…?” He asked, not needing to be specific for her to understand what he was asking.

Lavender nodded her head weakly, biting her lip to keep a sob inside. He had a very mixed look on his face. Anger, hatred, confusion, worry, and soon enough the shock value wore off. He reached out and cupped her face, wiping the tears away. He wanted to say he was right. He wanted to tell her that she should have listened to him. But Sweet Pea knew that those weren’t the things she needed to hear.

For whatever reason she was now dating one of the men that raped her, and he wanted to know why. “That’s why you came to my trailer the other day. You found out.” He said, not really needing an answer because it was the only reason he could think of for her coming to him.

She leaned her face into his hand, finally letting out a tiny sigh. “Yes.” Her eyes closed for a moment, their heart to heart was sobering her enough to think straight. Once her eyes opened back up they were focused on him. “Please, you can’t tell anyone.” Her good hand grabbed his wrist that was by her face, “promise me, Sweet Pea. Promise you won’t tell FP or Jughead or Fangs. He will hurt me, worse than before. Please…” Her voice cracked and more tears came out before she could say any more. His heart broke for her, seeing her like this, knowing the looming threat that was now over her head.

“I’ll kill him.” Sweet Pea said, his anger more evident as he leaned up to bring her shaking body into his chest so that he could hold her close. “No one is going to lay another hand on you, Shanna. I promise.” He had never used her real name before. It felt so foreign to her. His sincerity something totally different than what she had ever seen from him.

Her arms looped around his neck to hold him close, sniffling into the crook of his neck as he simply held her in any attempt to comfort her. In unity there is strength, the words echoed in her head. Was Sweet Pea just being a good serpent or did he actually care?

“You were right.” Lavender mumbled, her lips brushing against his skin. He tensed at the sensation, trying not to think about it. “You and Fangs tried to tell me, but I didn’t listen. Why am I so stupid? How could I think anyone would want me after what happened?”

She shuddered as she held in another cry. Sweet Pea rubbed her bare back, her skin soft and smooth under his calluses. “Guys still want you, Rhodes. You broke a lot of hearts when you came out as being that ghoul’s girlfriend.” Sweet Pea said, thinking to himself that one of those hearts had been his. He was not about to admit that to anyone though. Not now, not ever.

Several other serpents were upset that she was dating someone. Other students they went to school with were annoyed that she didn’t spurn the new kid’s advances like she had everyone else’s.

A sarcastic laugh left her lips. She didn’t believe him. He was just trying to make her feel better, though she appreciated the effort. “Can you stay with me tonight?” She braced herself for his reaction. She had been giving him the cold shoulder for the past four days. Now here she was crying on his shoulder. She didn’t expect him to give in to her, not after how she had been treating him.

“Yea.” Sweet Pea said softly as he pried her off of him. “Just finish changing clothes first. I’ll be right back.”

He left her room, making her feel empty as ever inside. She took off her bra and pants, finding an oversized T-shirt to slip on as she crawled into bed. Sweet Pea came back in not even five minutes later in a tank top and gym shorts. He laid down beside her, pulling the blankets up over them both. His arm found her waist and he pulled her close to him so she could breathe in his scent. A deep sigh left her as she closed her eyes, sleep finally overcoming her now that she felt safe.

*~~~~~~~~~~~*

Lavender and Sweet Pea both groaned at the sound of her alarm going off. His face was between her shoulder blades, eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to try and fall back asleep. She reached over the best she could to slap the snooze button. His arms were tight around her waist, making it difficult to even reach the clock.

“We have to get up.” Lavender said, feeling his grip get even tighter as he pulled her close against him. Sweet Pea clearly had other plans.

She weighed the options in her head. Stay here all day with Sweet Pea or go to school with James. One sounded amazing but if she didn’t show up James would get suspicious. He may even come looking for her, and if he found her here with him? She was afraid of what he’d do. Plus he needed to give her more Jingle Jangle to sell at the coffee shop in the afternoon.

Thank god she hadn’t told Sweet Pea all the details. She was drunk enough to let it slip that he was a Ghoulie but not much else.

“Let’s play hooky.” Sweet Pea countered, hoping she’d stay in bed with him just a little longer.

“I can’t. He’ll come looking for me…” Lav said softly. He instantly pulled his arms out from around her. He didn’t want her to get hurt more because of him. An annoyed sigh came out of his mouth as he sat up and rubbed his eyes groggily.

Lavender got up and started picking out her outfit for the day, looking for a sweater to put on to cover her new bruises. “We have to tell Fangs.”

“Absolutely not.” Lavender snapped back. “I shouldn’t have even told you! Besides, you promised me you wouldn’t.”

“I’m surprised you remember anything considering how much you probably drank yesterday.” Sweet Pea replied sourly, watching her go through the clothes in her closet.

She glared at him over her shoulder, “what was that?”

Sweet Pea got out of the bed. “You heard me. You think I haven’t seen that flask you keep in her locker? Or the smell of booze coming off of you almost twenty-four seven. How about the fact that I could even barely comprehend the text you sent last night because you were too drunk to type straight? You need to stop.”

“You don’t need to tell me what to do, I get enough of that from him.” Lav replied, starting to get angry at her minor blossoming alcoholism being called out.

His anger flared at being compared to a boy that was abusing her. “Don’t you ever do that. I’m nothing like that stupid fucking ghoul!” His fists were clenched, she noticed and quickly backed away from him. Her reaction only made him angry, “Do you think I’d stoop to his level? That I’d hurt you?”

“You already hurt me!” She pleaded back at him, talking about how she felt when she saw him with Kitty or when he made a comment about her being stupid. There were plenty of times he had made her feel horrible. Just because he didn’t put his hands on her, didn’t mean he was innocent.

Sweet Pea’s eyes widened at the desperate sound of her voice. That’s right. Fangs had told him before that he made her feel like shit. That must have been to what she was referring to. He didn’t have a response to that, not a good one at least. “Lav, I’m-“

“Just get out!” She said, not wanting to hear it. It hurt too much to say it out loud, to confess to him how she often felt when he said something snide to her. Especially after her attack. She was so much more sensitive now it seemed.

He didn’t fight her, instead he walked out still clenching his fists. Another day, another fuck up. Why couldn’t they just get along?

[medeafive]

bucky and nat meet while competing to buy the last gourmet chocolate bar

(This was so much fun. I’ll probably continue it. Gah. Next week)

AU where Nat is a cop and Bucky is… not sure yet.

Paperwork was the fucking worst. As if it wasn’t bad enough that the crime lab lost her evidence- her evidence- now she was the one who had to file a F426 for missing evidence, a F426D4 because it’s about drugs, a notice to the court and the state attorney (Matt was going to be pissed), a complaint to the police chief, to the head of the crime lab (things had really gone downhill since Bruce left), register the drugs in the state-wide watchlist, a formal apology to the police chief even though it wasn’t her fault at all, and that was just today.

She couldn’t even bitch about it to Clint because he was on family leave. On the Bahamas. Though that didn’t sound all that pleasant, with a toddler. Her apartment was empty, ever since Sharon moved out last week. The fridge was even emptier. So she stopped by a fast-food chain and now, gorged on too many tasteless calories, she craved nothing but her chocolate.

It was quite a ride across town but somehow, even these days you couldn’t get this specific gourmet chocolate delivered. Not that she would have the patience to sit calmly and wait for it. She needed chocolate, and she needed it now. Dark, 76 percent cocoa, with a hint of orange. Sharon claimed it tasted bitter, but Sharon also puts sugar in her coffee (which should be illegal, frankly). So, Natasha would buy the chocolate, go home, lounge on the couch, eat the chocolate and watch some crime show while bitching about it to- well, no one in particular, since Sharon moved out.

The store was awfully crowded on this Friday evening. Oh, she had already forgotten that it would be Valentine’s Day on Sunday. Great. Loneliness day. Well, at least this year she didn’t have to help Sharon get ready and pretend not to be a little bit jealous. But chocolate stores in early February were a nightmare. Good Lord, she just wanted her chocolate, and if it cost her an arm and a leg. More likely due to the crowd than due to the price.

She elbows her way into the right section, really, all these clueless people pondering heart shaped monstrosities, just get out of her way. Her heart sinks when she sees how empty the shelves already are. Please not. She can handle the crowd, the red and pink decorations, the long ride, but if she can’t get her chocolate- she almost sees her life flash before her eyes. Or her weekend at least. She shoves people out of her way, heart pumping. She isn’t not one for praying but right now…

Her worst fear comes to life when she saw her chocolate, her beloved chocolate, the orange packaging she would recognize anywhere, and there’s a hand darting forward, slow motion, to her chocolate, the last bar of her chocolate-

The forms flash before her eyes, the face of the stupid lab guy that she almost punched, the sorry state of her apartment, the horrible weekend and the even worse week ahead, and now her chocolate is being snatched away right before her eyes-

“Hands up where I can see them! Drop it-”

A few people startle and turn to her small but fuming stature, but there’s so much other noise that only few hear her, and when they see her, just standing there tensely, they turn back around and dismiss the whole thing. Except for, of course, the guy whose hand is still infuriatingly close to her chocolate. Which is his only hand, as she realizes upon closer inspection, the left sleeve tied at the upper arm. But most striking is the amused look on his smug face that already tells her he is a total asshole. “Are you arresting me? Why?”

“Yes,” Natasha replies. “No. No, of course not. Just give me my chocolate.”

“Your chocolate?” the guy repeats, looking around demonstratively. His dark hair slides over his shoulder. “As far as I can tell, sweetheart, none of them has your name on it.”

“Don’t sweetheart me.” She’s so close to losing it. The only thing holding her back is that Fury won’t save her if she loses evidence and on the same day draws her gun in a chocolate shop. But God, her fingers itch. “If you can’t tell, I’m not in a good mood. I don’t think you want to fuck with me today.”

“I’m just buying chocolate for Valentine’s Day.” He’s actually kind of good looking, in an infuriating way, of course. His hair looks soft. Of course he has a girlfriend. Not that it matters. She’s such a mess. “Don’t think that’s illegal. So, if you don’t mind… I guess you just came too late, sweetheart.”

“I do mind.” She has to resist the childish urge to stamp her feet. Her brain is begging for chocolate. Just chocolate. Don’t bother with this guy, just get the chocolate. But it’s not that easy, of course. “I had a horrible day. I’m going to have a horrible weekend. God, just- give me the chocolate and I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Come on, this chocolate is too bitter anyways,” the infuriating handsome guy tries. “You’ll want to try something less dark. Really, I’m just taking this one because my go-to sold out.”

“Oh please, 27 percent sugar is more than enough,” Natasha deadpans. “And if you don’t like it, then just leave it to me.”

He picks up the chocolate bar, which makes her blood boil, and looks at the ingredients on the back. “Wow. 27, indeed.”

“Don’t think you can lecture me on chocolate,” Natasha threatens. “Especially my chocolate. And now leave it to someone who will really appreciate it.”

He smiles, shrugging with the armless shoulder. “Well, I guess we’ll have to make a deal, sweetheart.”

“I’m not sharing with you!” Natasha protests, mentally calculating how many Law and Order episodes half the chocolate bar would get her through. Not enough. “And for the last time, don’t call me sweetheart.”

“Guess I shouldn’t harass a cop,” he concludes, without seeming sincere in the slightest. “Okay. I’ll let you have it. Sweetheart.”

This thing stinks from a mile away. He’s still holding her chocolate bar. “What’s the catch?”

He grins. She’s starting to get the sense that his confidence is overplayed. “Let me buy you a coffee. Just one. That’s it.”

It really speaks to her desperation that she considers it. She doesn’t want a date. Romance doesn’t play well with her job. And then there’s all the other stuff, childhood trauma, anxiety, trust issues. Really, she’d rather bitch about everything to Clint and Sharon, who she knows and trusts, than even talk to a stranger. “I don’t drink coffee,” she lies.

“Really.” He doesn’t look impressed. Try harder. “Your chocolate is almost entirely beans.”

Think. This whole thing is making her nervous. Just the thought of going on a date makes her palms sweaty. After all the bad boyfriends she’s been through. “I thought you had a girlfriend. I thought you were buying chocolate for your girlfriend.”

He snorts, which looks unfairly attractive on him, his jaw, his mouth. “I said I was buying chocolate for Valentine’s Day, not for my girlfriend. You’re bad at listening, for a cop. I was going to eat it all by myself.”

That’s just what she was going to do. Chocolate. This must be what it’s like for all those drug junkies she deals with. “Okay, fine. Just one coffee. You pay.”

His face lights up as if he’s genuinely surprised. “Oh. Yeah, sure. I know this place… Well, I gotta head to the VA, but give me your number, I’ll text.”

“I said coffee, not phone number,” she reminds him, snatching the chocolate bar from his hand. He’s tall. Tall, dark and handsome. Not like she has a type. “And not on Sunday. My chocolate and I have plans for Sunday.”

“Let’s make it Tuesday,” he concludes. “It’s near the Concorde Music Hall, if you know where that is. When do you get off?”

She swallows the dirty reply she always gives Sharon. “I can make it by four. Probably.”

“Let’s say five,” he decides, sounding slightly sarcastic. Just like Sharon. “I’d text you the address but you won’t let me. It’s the Ipsento Café.”

“Thanks, I do have Google,” she replies dryly, already dying to get out of here and never see him again. He can’t make her come to a café on a Tuesday afternoon. He has nothing on her.

“Enjoy your chocolate,” he remarks, his mouth quirking up on only one side, like he knows what she’s thinking.

“Yeah,” she replies, already turning her back on him. “I will.”

[zayashmaya]

Gods and Monsters - 3 - Off to the Races.

Other chapters here!

Marvus x Reader; SFW

Your favorite clown comes to your rescue.

My ... man is a tough man But he's got a soul as sweet as blood red jam And he shows me, He knows me Every inch of my tar-black soul

- Lana Del Rey

You didn’t see Lanque for the rest of the evening, which was all fine and well once you were two drinks into some serious shit on the dance floor. Remele certainly knew her audience — the purplebloods in attendance had quickly taken control once they trickled in with fashionable lateness, and everything had been set up for the ensuing clownery that followed. With Marvus at your side and your veins flooded with dubious alcohol, you felt nigh unstoppable, letting loose your inhibitions among a sea of trolls who would have killed you on the spot in a fit of capriciousness.

But a few of the clowns had come by to ruffle your hair and honk at you in recognition for having been a frequent presence in the church. You’ve certainly come far from the days of running for your life and getting trapped in an alleyway with a purpleblood seconds away from bludgeoning you to death. You kind of like them now.

And you definitely liked the way Marvus watched you as you swayed to the dizzying rhythm of pulsating music. Even his hands caressing your bare skin sent ripples of ticklish excitement throughout your body. It felt so different from when you had danced with Lanque. More on your terms, so to speak, and thus more thrilling. All in good fun, you thought. It’s not like he was serious about his flirting, anyway.

The purplebloods finished off the party with a frenzy of rapping that Marvus felt compelled to join. Stelsa had found her way to your side and eagerly followed your lead as you both giggled and danced your sanity away. You recognized some of Marvus’s lyrics from a few performances you had attended, and screamed your head off with the crowd as you sang along, feeling the heat of the lighting and the blurring colors collapsing all over you in swirling synesthesia, until you embraced the euphoric sensations and became one with the music.

Chucklevoodoos, a voice whispered through the cracks of your fraying mind.

Who cares, you answered back. I want this. I want this.

I feel whole.

Marvus was watching you. You felt compelled to direct your entire attention solely to him, not to any other highblood or to Stelsa but to him and him alone, and for a moment you heard the cheers of partygoers distorted into screams of pain before he beckoned you over with his arms spread out in theatrical showmanship. You clawed your way through the masses and into his waiting embrace, laughing for no reason and yet there was every reason to laugh —

“Snap out of it babe,” he said as he directed the microphone away from him, and even though the cracks were suddenly breaking and collapsing like shattered glass, all you could think of was how he said it just for you, only you, only you —

“What if I don’t want to,” you whispered, but nobody heard your admission.

As your fingers dug into the lapels of his jacket, you pressed up against him and scanned the crowd in a moment of clarity. Stelsa. Was she safe? Did you imagine all of the blood and death and fire?

Marvus’s arm was wrapped around your back as he held you close during the madness. You ran a shaky hand through your hair and wondered where the night would lead, because the highbloods were getting a little too rowdy. A gentle pat to your behind pulled you out of your thoughts, and you threw a scandalized look to Marvus as he grinned down at you. With the microphone poised before him, he called out to the partygoers, “Hey.”

That simple word held all the weight of an important command. The crowd fell silent, and a shiver rolled down your spine. You pressed your forehead to his side and tried to make yourself seem as small as possible, conscious of being stared at by so many people.

“Yall havin a good time??” The crowd roared to life in answer. “Lemme hear u give it up for the mutherfxxer who made it all happen, ufeelme?!”

Amidst the chorus of cheers, Remele bounced up to the clearing where Marvus waited for her, snatching the microphone out of his hand and baring her fangs in a wide smile as she addressed her attendees. You huffed a quiet laugh as you listened to her shill out her latest art pieces and advertise her gallery.

“ — and I woulde like to thank one of my best supporters, my very goode friend and my darling muse!"

You jerked your head towards Remele as she zeroed in on you. “Please, no — “ you begged, but she already grabbed hold of your upper arm and snatched you out of Marvus’s embrace. You looked back at him in a silent plea, but he only winked at you and flashed his toothy grin.

Remele whirled you around to face the crowd. The spotlight was on you now.

You meekly waved and prayed for the ground to swallow you whole. “Tonighte, dear guests, I have a confession to make,” she dramatically said, her eyes flashing in excitement. “Were it not for our resident alien, my gallery might never have gotten so muche recognition! Because she was responsible for the gruesome murder of a highbloode mere steps from my gallery, all of those perigees ago!"

”Remele!” you screamed in a whisper, withering away from the crowd as it erupted into bewildered laughter and indiscernible heckling. “What are you doing?! They’re going to kill me!”

And not just the attendees, but Marvus, too. God, you could hardly bring yourself to look at him, because even though Remele was technically the one who killed the purpleblood, you were still pathetic enough to get yourself into trouble in the first place, and the last thing you ever wanted was for him to catch wind of your fucked up escapades, and now your mind was racing a mile a minute but Marvus was just looking at you with raised eyebrows, and he didn’t look angry, just thoughtful —

“Oh, relax,” Remele cut into your mental breakdown, ignoring your attempts to claw your way out of her grasp — she was ridiculously strong — and continued her speech. “In honor of my muse, I have channeled my inspiration for that fateful nighte to create — “ She threw her arm out in a wide arc and directed everyone’s attention to a covered canvas mounted to a wall. ” — this!”

A rustblood scuttled over as if on cue and tore down the white fabric covering the canvas. All eyes were on Remele’s latest painting. Perhaps now was your chance to abscond? Maybe you could use this precious time to find Stelsa and hightail it out of here with one last ‘fuck you’ to Lanque —

Except your attention was entirely captured by the painting as soon as you dared to glance at it.

You were the subject, pressed flat against a dark wall and limbs splayed out like a cheesy damsel in distress, gripping the brick behind you as you stared at the viewer, all wide-eyed and afraid. And, much to your mortification, you were naked — or rather, lacking any sort of clothing while retaining no bodily features characteristic of your sex. Remele had never seen you naked, after all. Rather imaginative of her to paint you completely sexless and alabaster white, with red and purple stains blotched over your figure as though you were covered in blood.

What the fuck, Remele. Did you really look that pathetic to her that night?

Your mouth simply hung open in shock while the audience ascertained the painting with thoughtful murmurs. Remele waited with baited breath, whispering to you, ”Just you waite and see, I’m gonna be fuqueing loaded after this!”

Suddenly, a voice rose high over the crowd and called out what appeared to be a price.

Remele squeeled. You felt your soul leave your body. That better not have been Zebruh.

As if on cue, an intense bidding war began over the painting. You closed your eyes and hung your head, letting Remele flop your arm around like a limp noodle in joy as the price rose higher and higher still. This was it — your lowest point. Your cowardly self on display for other people’s pleasure, awaiting a lifetime of being gawked at by a privileged highblood. And worst of all, you weren’t even going to get a cut of the profits.

Within minutes, the haggling price had skyrocketed to what you imagined to be astronomical numbers. Most of the bidders had dropped out as well, with just a select few voices trying to outbid each other. A small part of you was surprised that they hadn’t attempted to resolve the conflict with good, old-fashioned murder and mayhem. Judging by the growing agitation in the bidders’ voices and the heckling of the crowd, that outcome might not be far off from the future.

And indeed mayhem ensued. Four highbloods had rendered each other into a pile of limbs and — and bicycle horns — before Remele threw her hand into the air and called out, “Looks like it’s time to wrap this shitshowe up! Going once, going twice, to the gentlemane with the facepaint and broken horne — "

A hand came down over your head and ruffled your hair. Somehow, you knew everything would be okay.

“Na b i’ma take dat home tonite,” Marvus cut Remele off. “I’ll take it for dubble tha price k :o)“

”Solde!” she shouted into the microphone, and you breathed a sigh of audible relief.

Yet your momentary reprieve was ruined once you realized that Marvus had spent a ridiculous amount of money on a scandalous painting that he had no need for. A sense of guilt hung over you as Marvus waited for the canvas to be brought to him, keeping a steadying grip on your shoulder and commanding someone nearby to hand over the payment on his behalf.

“You really didn’t have to do that, Marvus,” you quietly said, tugging on his sleeve to catch his attention.

He merely grinned. “I did dis for a more selfish reason than u think.”

“Why? Don’t tell me you actually wanted that thing?”

“Fxxk yea i did brohime, i wanna b lookin at dis erry day to remember i got one dangerous lil mama who could knock me flat on my azz n paint da walls w my blood. Shit’s hot yo.”

“I’m sorry to break the fantasy, but Remele was pretty much embellishing her story. I didn’t actually kill anyone, I would never do that!” you whined.

“Mebbe not then,” he said, his eyes staring straight through you as though he knew more than you let on. “But u prolly did a whole lotta damage to otha ppl jus by being on dis planet. A wicked shorty like u can’t survive here for dis long w/o causing sum mischief. Basically, u iz one dangerous lil alien.”

Discomfort gripped your heart. Marvus was right; you were inadvertently responsible for a few deaths. Thankfully none of your friends suffered from your magnetic ability to welcome danger —

— Karako bleeding out from his stab wounds, seadwellers laughing in the distance —

— Daraya engulfed in flames as she fought through the pain —  

— Boldir’s life withering away right before your eyes —

— Zebruh’s limbs torn apart in a frenzy of bloodlust —

You jolted and blinked through a haze of phosphenes coloring your vision. What were you thinking about again?

“Hey, it b ok u know.” Right, Marvus. Focus back on him. The painting is under his arm now, mercifully covered up so you didn’t have to look at it again. You welcomed the cold seeping into the skin of your shoulder from his touch. “U ain’t gotta b lookin so sad, doll. It just b dat way around here.”

You sucked in a shaky breath and mustered up a smile. “I know. And I guess if there’s anyone who I’d rather keep the painting, it would be you.”

Marvus lightly papped you on the cheek with the back of his hand. But before he could get a word in, Remele suddenly draped herself over you from behind. “Hello my sweete muse, please text me whenever you’re free againe; I’m going to make a livinge off of you!”

“Of course," you hastily replied, eager to worm your way out of her grasp and disappear. “I’m so … grateful that you painted such a — a charming rendition of me. You’ve truly outdone yourself!”

“It’s fxxn aces,” Marvus pipped up.

“Thank you so muche!” she gushed, and you had a sneaking suspicion she was amping up the charm for his sake. Her tactics were so shameless sometimes, but you loved her for it. You weren’t that much different from her in that regard.

“By the way, Remele, have you seen my friend Stesla anywhere around here? You know, the  tealblood who speaks without stopping to breathe.”

“Ummm,” Remele hummed, tapping her cheek with a finger as she looked around. “She shoulde be lurking somewhere in the back, methinks. Thanks for introducing us, she’s gonna be so fuqueing useful in the long run. Juste like you!”

“How kind of you to say,” you humorlessly said.

“Mhm! Anyway, I muste get going. Goodbye, sweete muse!” And off she went, gone in a flash to conduct more mischief.

Marvus tapped you atop your head. “Hey.” You looked up to his sneaky face. “U lookin about as done w all dis as i b. Wanna bounce?”

Oh you sure as fuck did. The weight of tonight’s eventful party was finally starting to come down on you. “How do you always know? I’m starting to think you have some sort of savior complex.”  

“Juss for funny lil hornless aliens who hang around weirdos.”

“Are you a weirdo, too, Marvus?”

He wiggled his eyebrows at you. “Hellz yea fam, but maybe not as much as u.”

“I am not!" you laughed, lightly swatting his forearm as you two walked towards where your instincts told you Stesla might be. “But seriously, thank you for getting me out of here."

“Don’t b thankin me just yet lil mama — maybe I got sum nefarious plans cookin in my think pan,” he teased and winked.

You chuckled. “I’m sure whatever you’re thinking of would be a million times preferable to being mobbed by frenzied trolls.”

“Ye tru. Lemme take u home, babe. Need me a lil bit of company in my sicknasty limo.”

“Oh, you didn’t come here with the other purplebloods?”

The corner of his grin turned up higher. “Sure did, but they ain’t who i’m lookin’ to take home tonite.”

You furrowed your brows at the strange phrasing — why would Marvus be so eager to take me back to my dilapidated hive instead of enjoying his friends’ wild company — but Stesla’s fashionable physique was in sight beside the restrooms, dabbing her face with a small powder puff while looking into a compact mirror. You called out to her in greeting, and she instantly perked up, hiding her cosmetics away in her purse before skipping up to you.

“OH MY GOODNESS DARLING THERE YOU ARE I THOUGHT I WOULD NEVER GET TO YOU TONIGHT HOW ARE YOU DID YOU SEE THAT INCREDIBLE PAINTING MY IT WAS SIMPLY EXQUISITE I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT THE MARVUS XOLOTO ACQUIRED IT — “

You practically pounced on her with a killer hug that would have knocked the air out of a human. But Stelsa was a force of nature in her own right, and as such, merely squeaked and hugged you back.

“I am feeling a little overwhelmed right now, Stelsa,” you confessed, murmuring into her chest before slinking out of her grasp to look at her. “I think I’m ready to leave now. Did you want to stay a little longer, or can I drop you off back home?”

“I SIMPLY CANNOT LEAVE JUST YET THERE IS STILL MUCH TO DISCUSS WITH REMELE AND SO MANY NEW POTENTIAL CLIENTS TO MEET HERE I WILL HAVE TO STAY BUT DON’T WORRY ABOUT ME PLEASE HURRY ON HOME AND REST YOU MUST BE EXHAUSTED AFTER THAT BIDDING DEBACLE AND I SEE THAT A CERTAIN SOMEONE IS WAITING FOR YOU — “ Stelsa peered over the top of your head in the least discrete way possible. Unbeknownst to you, Marvus waved back. “MY OH MY IT’S A GOOD THING I MANAGED TO PRIMP YOU UP BEFORE THE PARTY JUST LOOK AT YOU GETTING LUCKY HMMM?”

Your mind had wandered during her monologuing, so it took you a moment for her last statement to shock you back into reality. “Th — that, that isn’t what’s happening!” you hissed in a quiet whisper, blushing brightly at her implication. “He’s just my ride home, don’t be preposterous. Anyway, are you sure you’ll manage on your own here? I’m worried about leaving you with all of these highbloods around. What if you get caught in another deadly moshpit or whatever?”

Stelsa giggled and placed her hands on her hips. “DON’T BE SILLY I CAN HANDLE MYSELF JUST FINE I DON’T WORK OUT FOR NOTHING YOU KNOW.” Oh, that’s right. You forgot Stelsa was ripped.

“I’ll trust you … but I’m not letting you go that easy!” You fished out your phone and quickly got to texting. “I’m going to let Tyzias know that I need to leave you here. And you better send me a message when you get home, or else I’ll go looking for you, and you know what happens when I have a mission in mind; things can either go horribly right or horribly wrong — “

“YES YES DARLING I WILL BE SURE TO DO SO THANK YOU FOR BEING SUCH A LOVELY FRIEND NOW DON’T KEEP YOUR OTHER FRIEND WAITING TOODLES AND BE SAFE!”

She urged you along before you could get another word in, and you nearly stumbled like a clumsy fool if not for Marvus catching your fall. “Reddy reddy, buddy?”

“Ready ready,” you breathlessly replied, graciously allowing him to lead you away hand-in-hand.

The crowd parted for the both of you on your way out. You caught a glimpse of a few glares and reddened eyes being thrown at you, and if you had a death wish, you might have stuck your tongue out at them. But you were a flimsy human with too much to lose now, so you stared straight ahead and focused on matching Marvus’s quick strides.

The quietness of the outside was jarring to your senses after enduring the loud music and boisterous socializing. Alternia's twin moons cast their colored rays onto your shimmering skin, lighting it up in a dazzling shine that could not meet its full potential under artificial light. Your vibrant glow must have caught Marvus's attention — he turned to look at you with widened eyes and paused his step. “Damn, lil mama,” he smoothly cooed, beckoning you into a twirl as he admired you from all angles. “Now I know I said earlier that u be lookin good an all dat, but dis is sum wild shit.”

You giggled. “It’s just the wicked glow of the Mirthful Messiahs watching over me,” you said and pointed to the sky with a smile. “Get it? Two moons, two prophets.”

“Amen, baby. The messiahs are errywhere and in errything,” he replied, guiding you towards the limo with an arm swung around your shoulders.

The driver was waiting patiently, bowing in respect as he opened the door for you. For a brief moment, you spared Lanque one final thought and wondered how his night had gone after your mini feud got cut short. But with Marvus hot on your heel as you clamored into the limo, you decided that your mental energy had better trolls to focus on.

[louthegreatfurrry]

Communication is Key pt.6

Percy was looking through the clips from his newest vlog-idea, trying to decide which videos to use and which to discard when Migo popped his head into the room. “Hey, uhm… Percy?”

“Don’t just hover in the door,” Percy said, not looking up from his computer as he spoke. “It’s your room, come on in.”

Migo shuffled into the room, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Percy glanced up at him, a tinge of worry fluttering in his guts. It wasn’t like Migo to hesitate. Had something happened? “Is something wrong?” he asked, gently closing the computer and putting it aside.

“Uh – I – no, I just – ” He poked his index fingers together. “Aaahthere’sayetifestivalcomingupinafew daysandIwaswonderingifyouwantedtogotoitwithme?”

Percy blinked. “Come again?”

Sighing, Migo looked down at the floor, his shoulders slumping. “There’s… there’s a yeti festival soon, celebrating the – uh, I don’t know the word, the Sky Banners? Anyway, I, uhm… I’m going to it, do you want to join me?”

Percy stared at him, heart stuttering in his chest. “I – you really want me to?” Time seemed to slow around them. Migo wanted him to partake in his culture – go to a yeti festival with him, simply because he could. It was – oddly touching, and a terribly sweet gesture.

Migo nodded.

“Migo,” Percy breathed, climbing to his feet in a hurry. He stepped over to the edge of the table, and Migo, understanding his silent question, let him climb into his hand. “I’d love to go,” Percy continued, smiling softly up at him. “When is it? What’s it about?”

For a brief moment awe shone in Migo’s eyes, unclouded and clear, but then he blinked and it was gone, replaced by a relieved smile. “It’s – well, it’s a festival to celebrate the beauty of – uhm…” He hesitating, glancing away from him with downcast eyes. “I… don’t know what it’s called. Lights on the night sky?”

“Stars?” Percy suggested curiously.

“No, not stars, I know those – it’s like, ribbons? Of colors?”

Percy gasped. “Northern lights?” he asked. “Aurora borealis? You have an aurora borealis festival?”

Migo nodded eagerly. “Yeah, we do! Every year, at the same date, the Sky Banners dance across the sky, and all yetis gather together to celebrate them. There’s food, and ice, and drinks, and some games and stuff – merchants lower their prices on things, too.”

Now, Percy’d seen Northern Lights before, when he’d been to Svalbard to document the life there – but he’d never seen them with a yeti before. He’d never seen them with Migo. And besides, this was more than just seeing the Northern Lights – this was celebrating something from Migo’s culture. He couldn’t quite describe it, but – somehow it seemed like it was extremely important. And he truly, honestly appreciated it.

“It sounds lovely,” he said, patting Migo’s thumb affectionately. “When is it?”

“This Saturday.”

“It’s a date,” Percy said.

It was what he and Brenda always said to each other when they made plans – it was an instinctual reaction, really.

Still, he tensed and flushed bright red when he realized what he’d said. “I – I mean – ”

Migo blinked at him, then gave a teasing grin. “A date, huh?”

“I – ”

“Nope! No turning back now,” Migo said, the grin widening as he tapped Percy’s forehead. “It’s a date.”

And Percy, terribly flustered and red as a tomato, found that he didn’t really want to complain.

*

“Meechee?”

Meechee dropped her chalk, jumped three feet into the air, and spun to face him with a too-wide smile. “Hi Migo! Nope I haven’t done anything!” She clasped her hands behind her back, the smile widening further.

Migo blinked. “Uhm. Okay?” He shook his head, pushing her odd behaviour aside for now. “The Banner Fest was this weekend, right?” He was fairly certain he had the right dates, but he’d been known to mess them up before. It was better to be safe than sorry.

“Oh!” Meechee wiped her hands on her fur, a relieved tone to her voice. “Yes, it is.” Then she gasped, flapping her hands excitedly at him. “Wait, no, you should bring Percy! That’d be great!”

Migo grinned sheepishly. “I, uhm, already asked him.”

Meechee blinked. “You did?”

“Yeah. He’s coming.”

“Oh.” She stared at him for a moment before she shook her head. “Yes, well, then – ”

“Who are you taking?” Migo blurted, knowing that Meechee, daughter of the Stonekeeper, would feel obligated to take someone.

She rubbed her arm. “I – I’m taking Kolka. Again.”

Migo squinted. “But she isn’t who you want to take, is she?” he asked. If she’d been crushing on Kolka they’d all know – the two of them had never been able to keep secrets about each other.

Meechee blushed. “No,” she admitted with a grin, “she’s not, and she knows it.”

“I wish you’d just tell us,” Migo exclaimed, flinging his hands into the air. Meechee snickered. “Come on, Meechee, we can help you get together!”

“Hmm…” Meechee tapped her lip thoughtfully. “Nah.”

Migo groaned in frustration. “I will give you a geode if you tell me!”

“Just one?”

“Meechee!”

*

Saturday came both far too soon and not nearly fast enough, by Percy’s standards. Brenda had very pointedly thrown him his bags after she’d cancelled his hotel room, and he’d thoughtlessly flung them into a corner of Migo’s room. Now he stood pacing before them, trying to decide between comfortable clothes and clothes he knew complimented his hair.

“Oh, come on, Percy,” he muttered to himself, dropping the two jackets he’d been weighing against each other. “It’s not even a real date, why are you so nervous?” He sighed, rubbing his forehead. “It’s on a mountain. You almost died the last time you were up there, it’s cold, go for warmth, not good looks.” Biting his lip he considered the two jackets again, groaning in frustration. “Oh, but I want to impress him!”

He slapped his cheeks a few times as he thought. “No, damn it all, I don’t want to die up there.” He snatched the comfy, baby blue jacket from his bag and stood up. “Right. Right.” Stuffing the two thermoses of hot chocolate into his backpack he flung it onto his back, making his way out of the room and towards the main room of the cave.

The other yetis were waiting for him there. They’d all paired up, it seemed – Meechee and Kolka sat side by side on one of the stones, and Fleem had somehow managed to crawl onto Gwangi’s shoulders.

“Ready to go?” Migo asked. He’d twined a few flower stems around his broken horn, their sharp green color stunning against his blue.

“I sure am,” Percy said, looping his thumbs behind the straps on the backpack and offering a cheeky grin.

The other yetis turned to Migo with raised eyebrows. Migo sighed. “He said he’s ready to go,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Gosh. Those devices better be ready soon, I’m getting tired of translating.”

“You and me both, Maarroo.” Percy blinked, realizing his mistake only after it’d slipped out of him. “Uhm. Sorry.”

“Cute,” Migo said, a flippant remark that made Percy go bright red once more. Migo laughed, then offered his hand, letting Percy climb onto his palm. “Let’s go, guys. We don’t want to be late.”

Muttered agreements came from the other yetis.

Well, most of them. “I don’t really care,” Fleem said from his position on Gwangi’s shoulders.

“Yes, you do,” Gwangi said flatly. “Or you wouldn’t have asked to go with me.”

Fleem shrugged. “Maybe I just wanted to spend time with you, hm, how about that?”

Kolka snorted.

*

It was the first time in several months that Migo would return to the mountain. He’d been busy down by the village – greeting smallfeet and sharing stories with Percy, getting to know both him and Brenda, getting settled, signing peace contracts. He was excited to be back – he’d never been away from something this long before.

His dad was the first who met them, giving him a warm hug before greeting Percy by name. “You can talk to them now, can’t you?” he asked.

Migo nodded.

Percy waved.

“Oh!” Migo said. “Yeah, uhm, he can understand you, too.”

After that comment he had to make a hasty escape. The villagers in near proximity flocked to them, questions and wonders falling out of their mouths at a neck-breaking speed. If he hadn’t used Meechee as a distraction both he and poor Percy would’ve been trampled by the crowd.

“Phew,” Migo breathed, peeking around the rock he’d hid behind, “that was a close one.”

“You can tell them they can come down from the mountain if they want answers,” Percy said drily. “Hm. Or maybe we could print – but no, you can’t read, you’ll have to be taught – and damn it, we don’t speak the same language.” He sighed in exasperation. “Let’s just forget it happened.”

Migo laughed, stepping aside from the rock and making for the marketplace. They still attracted some gazes, but Migo had expected that. As long as no one mentioned that they understood each other they would be fine.

“Do you celebrate this every year?” Percy asked, holding onto Migo’s horn as he peeked down at the children running around between the stalls.

“Yep,” Migo said, nodding at the owner of the stall that’d always sold his favorite flutes. “We’ve celebrated this for as long as we’ve been here.”

“How intriguing…” Percy murmured, twisting to look behind them at the growing crowd. “Are they all here to watch the lights?”

“Some of them are here for the knocked down prices,” Migo said. He shrugged, then had to scramble to steady Percy before he could fall to the ground. “But – oops, sorry – most are here for when the banners appear.”

“The sun hasn’t even set yet,” Percy muttered. “Incredible.”

Migo looked away, a flustered smile spreading on his lips. How sweet of him, wanting to know more about their celebration. He’d have to return the favor, somehow…

“What do you pay with?” Percy asked, peering curiously at the nearest stall. “You don’t have coins, after all…”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Migo said. “We work with favors.”

“Really?” Percy asked, sounding genuinely surprised. “So it’s a trade, then. You keep amazing me, Migo.”

Migo flushed, proud despite the fact that he certainly hadn’t been the one to invent the system. “Thanks,” he muttered lamely. Then he perked up, remembering why he came up here in the first place. “I know of a neat spot,” he said, patting Percy’s leg as he parted from the crowd, “I found it when I was a child, it’s got some great views – but we’ll have to hurry to get there.”

*

Percy fished his scarf out of his backpack, wrapping it around his shoulders before letting Migo put the backpack down on the snow beside them. “Do we have to wait for a long time?” he asked, rubbing his hands together before burying them in Migo’s fur.

They were sitting atop a stone jutting out of the mountain – Migo had gotten there by crawling sideways across the mountainside, and although Percy had been determinedly staring at the insides of his eyelids the whole time, he could safely say that it was worth it. The view was simply extraordinary – the sky stretched out before them, vast and endless, the mountains and forests of the Himalayas beneath them tiny pricks in the distance. He couldn’t see the village unless he turned towards it, and the sounds from excited yetis were muted and muffled by both distance, stone, and snow.

Migo squinted into the distance, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sunset even as he stared directly into it. “Nah,” he said, waving dismissively with his hand. “A few more minutes, max.”

Percy hummed, kicking his legs up so he could sit sideways on Migo’s shoulder, leaning against the side of his head. “I can wait,” he said, threading his fingers through the soft and familiar fur.

“It’s not like you have a choice.”

“Git.”

They sat in silence for a while, Percy slowly combing through Migo’s long fur. It was calming – he’d practiced meditating when he was in India, and this had many of the same elements. He hummed to himself as he sat there, braiding the strands together after he separated them.

And slowly, ever so slowly, the sky darkened.

Percy tilted his head, glancing up at it with a raised eyebrow. “So, does it take a long time before the lights appear - ” He trailed off in favor of gaping up at the sky. “Oh,” he breathed, slowly standing up on Migo’s shoulder to take it all in.

Ribbons of light stretched before them, across the endless sky and into the distance, far and further still, dancing and whipping in the wind. Through them the stars were clearly visible – and here, far away from any human made light they shone even brighter in their splendour.

“I – they – it’s – ” he stuttered, struggling to find words through the awe creeping up on him. Finally he settled on a lame, “It’s beautiful,” tipping his head back so far that he nearly fell over.

Migo chuckled. “Yeah,” he said, and his voice was barely a whisper, soft and gentle in the crisp, cold air. “It is.”

Percy looked over at him, expecting him to be glancing at the sky like himself. Instead he was met with a pair of beautiful blue-purple eyes and a soft smile, genuine and almost painful in its honesty.

Percy stared.

The lights shone in Migo’s eyes, reflected and bouncing in the already colorful gaze. And somehow it seemed, just then, that the beauty of the sky came from within Migo, spots and specks of hope and bravery being flung upon the sky.

Oh, nevermind the goddamned sky. Migo was beautiful.

Percy drew a deep breath, looking away from him with his heart drumming harshly in his chest. He pressed a hand to it unconsciously, hoping against all hope that the flush in his cheeks could be excused as cold-induced.

“Percy,” Migo whispered, “look at me. Please?”

He couldn’t have denied him even if he’d wanted to, and so he turned to face him again – and he looked so incredibly vulnerable, so open and raw and loving –

He wanted to kiss him, damn it all.

For a second they just stared at each other, bathed in the lights of the living sky, and then Migo shifted. “I’d like to try and say your name again,” he muttered, and the soft moment shattered like glass. “I know I’m saying it wrong. Will you help me?”

“…of course,” Percy whispered, both disappointed and relieved that neither of them had done anything. He brought a hand to his ear, removing the translator device and waiting patiently for Migo to do the same.

He cleared his throat, then said, very slowly and carefully, “Per – cy.”

Migo took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and –

“Purrcy.”

Percy froze, eyes going wide.

That was. Extremely close and that was great, that was awesome, but holy shit there had most definitely been a purr there.

“Oh my God,” he whispered. Migo cracked open an eye, giving him a curious look. Percy gestured for him to repeat it.

He did.

The purr rumbled in the air. He could feel its tremble in Migo’s shoulder.

And it was the most attractive purr he’d ever heard.

He drew a sharp breath, leaning forward to rest against Migo’s cheek, fingers grasping his fur and forehead nestled just beneath his horn. It was the only thing he dared to do, and Migo seemed to appreciate the contact, leaning back and cradling him with one of his hands.

They sat in silence for a long time afterwards, Percy’s heart beating slow and sluggish in his chest, each beat echoing with a bittersweet pain.

*

In the village by the Stonekeeper’s manor stood a figure, framed by the moon and the stars and the lights of their ancestors.

Meechee knew what he was staring at, and she knew she had to intervene.

“Dad?” she asked, stepping up to her father’s side.

He startled, tearing his gaze away from the two figures dark against the colorful night sky. “ – Meechee,” he said. “You know him better than I – what is…?” He gestured with his staff towards the shapes on the rock.

Meechee leaned against the railings, giving her dad a soft smile. “Well, dad, when two yetis love each other very much…”

He grimaced. “Thank you, Meechee, that is quite enough.” He sighed, turning back to gaze up towards the two of them. “I just don’t understand. The dangers, the differences… how do they see past them?”

“They don’t,” Meechee said, making her voice as gentle as she could. Her dad had never been very open with things like these – spoon-fed information was generally the best. “They stare at it, learn it by heart – and accept it.” She walked over to him, placing a hand on his arm and leaning around his shoulder to give him a soft look. “Not everything that’s different is bad, daddy.”

“No,” he muttered, still staring at Migo and Percy with a frown on his brow. “So I can see.”

[drink-n-watch]

  Welcome back, one and all, to our Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba discussion post! I’m glad I get to share this show with you and grateful to Crow for taking the time to chat with me every week. I really do look forward to my Saturdays thanks to this. (ok…so there’s a small chance I would have looked forward to my Saturdays anyways but who can really tell?) Naturally Crow will be bold this week, as it just suits him! Before we get into the episode proper, how was your week Crow? Were you looking forward to this as much as I was?

Absolutely I was! So many unanswered questions last week! And then the preview mentioned Zenitsu sleeping? Forget the circumstances — how’d he calm down enough to sleep?

For those of you who haven’t watched the episode, go watch it! It’s a feast for the eyes! We’re going to get into what happened so there will be “spoilers,” but this week’s Demon Slayer isn’t really the type of episode you can spoil. Nevertheless, if you want to go in completely blind, please watch the episode first!

I’m explaining my post title

We left off with all our heroes (almost) trapped in what seems to be a pandimensional house. That was after the demon slayers met two young children who had their brother snatched by a demon. Tanjiro and the girl were separated from her brother and Zenitsu, and were just about to face the demon controlling the house when they got interrupted by a boar head wearing warrior.

I have to say, the lackadaisical demon sounded fairly reasonable. All he wanted was for people to stop bursting into his house and causing a ruckus. I get that. Ok, there was the kidnapping… This is the first depressed demon we meet. They really range a lot in personality. Did you like him Crow?

It’s interesting you should mention “depressed,” because in my notes, I wondered why the demon was sad! A sad demon covered with tsuzumi was just so unexpected! I mean that in a good way, too. It made the whole situation more interesting. Why was he sad? What path had he taken to get here?

maybe he has body issues…relatable!

I’m going to interject here, after the short opening tag we got the OP and I don’t think I’ve ever taken the time to mention how much I enjoy the music here. And the singer has a really lovely voice. I don’t think the visuals are that interesting but it’s a good tune and I listen to it every week!

As much as I want to dive into the episode, I watch the OP, too. LiSA’s Gurenge is just beautiful, audibly and visually.

After the OP we got back to business and back to boar head. I don’t know his name (your favorite Anilist to the rescue! It’s Inosuke Hashibira — you do prefer Anilist, don’t you? I do, it has stats!!! Girls love stats!). It occurs to me that I assumed he was a demon slayer because he’s human and hunting demons but I don’t think that the show ever made that official.

it is a great design

Turns out he’s another over the top loud guy, but in a different way from Zenitsu. This is the “I’m going to destroy anything and anyone that stands in my way, and be damned the consequences” type. I wasn’t that crazy about him but I do like the design.

Did boar head dude stepping on the little girl tick you off as much as it did me? Tanjiro was indignant as he said, “Don’t stomp all over her!” You go, Tanjiro!

You know writing Big Personalities is a bit of a gamble. If you get the balance right, you have an almost guaranteed fan favourite who will be highly marketable and your series can pretty much exist on the back of that character. On the other hand, that balance is very difficult to achieve and if you don’t get it, your character will annoy your audience and risk sinking the popularity of your entire franchise. I feel like the demon slayers, aside from Tanjiro, are an assortment of Big Personalities that the author is just testing out to see what works. I hope they find that balance before it gets too exhausting to watch! Boar head reminds me of the kid in the trial that just wanted to get a sword.

that’s kinda weird but you do you

Did you catch him mentioning that his “Beast Breathing” was self-taught? Is he a real Demon Slayer? He has the right kind of metal in his sword… Dang it, sorry! I’m getting ahead…

That’s ok, I get excited too! But I’m really not sure how I feel about this guy. The latest characters are kind of iffy.

And of course, just as I say that, we get back to Zenitsu and the boy. I said last week that I had hope for Zenitsu, I just felt there was more to his character than meets the eye. And Demon Slayer decided not to test my patience. Sure, he started out with the same old exaggerated panic attacks and cowardly routine, but as soon as a demon showed up, Zenitsu stepped up to the plate and actually protected the kid.

d’awwww

Don’t get me wrong, he did not magically turn into a hero. He was still the same snivelling, whining mess, but he stood in front of that demon to protect the kid even while he was shaking and sobbing. He even told the boy to run and save himself. I was fully prepared to see Zenitsu use the kid as a human shield, so this was a surprise. A great one! And the fact that he was so visibly terrified the entire time only made it better. It’s not really brave if you’re not scared!

Maybe I’m easy to please, but it’s all it took for the character to be redeemed in my eyes. I immediately started cheering Zenitsu on!

I was the same way. Like you said — he was terrified, but he not only tried to put himself between the boy and the demon, he even encouraged the boy to run and save himself. I have to wonder if I’d have enough courage to do that! Sure, he’s no Tanjiro, but who is?

good question

And then he reached his limit. All that emotion was just too much for him and he passed out, leaving the poor child to try and save him. Like I said, Zenitsu is no hero and that is one of the best things about him.

He was even snoring! Man, he can nap waaay faster than I can!

Let’s slow things down a little here and talk about this demon. This isn’t the drum demon who’s the master of the house. It seems there are several demons in here and they so far they are not working together. I really liked the design of this guy (again). The double eyes were particularly successful in my opinion. Once more this show has crafted a demon that looks a little childish, almost cute in a strange way, yet honestly scary and unsettling. The saturated colour palette helps with that I think. In any case, the overall aesthetic is fantastically suited to the story. Ufotable is good with that!

They certainly are! And that demon’s tongue! That thing must have been 10 meters long and it sliced through a tough wooden barrel like it was nothing. Talk about capable of a tongue lashing!

people crawling is always creepy

Back to the action. Zenitsu is out, a fit of stress-induced narcolepsy it seems. The poor kid has his back against the wall and the demon is closing in when… We were all waiting for it, weren’t we? Zenitsu finally has his moment of reckoning. And what a moment it is! I knew he didn’t survive on pure luck! Sure, Zenitsu is no hero, but in his sleep, he’s a Big A** Hero! That scene was just so much fun. I could help but physically clap!

And it also works as a sort of metaphor for the show. It’s a somewhat cliché scene but with some nice twists. You see it coming from a mile away but when it does it’s so well executed that you thoroughly enjoy it. And there’s always just a little extra touch that you didn’t predict to keep you on your toes!

That moment was worth the price of admission. It wasn’t just a simple masterful attack. It was the equal of any strike we’ve seen! The sound, the animation, it call came together. Good stuff! And did you think that Zenitsu was almost the anti-Rock Lee? In the original Naruto, Rock Lee trained and trained and trained. He was a powerful fighter, but one time, he got knocked out. He had trained so much that his body continued to fight! Even when he was unconscious. It’s like he was the anti-Zenitsu or vice versa!

the colours are great 

I was wondering if all demon slayers had elemental powers. It’s starting to look more that way, since Zenitsu has electricity (thunder) based powers and he seems to wield them very well, as long as he’s unconscious! If I hadn’t already been sold a few minutes before, this would have done the trick. I’m a Zenitsu fan now, I want to see more of him.

When all was said and done, it became apparent that Zenitsu doesn’t remember anything. He actually does think he’s a weakling incapable of protecting anyone because as far as he knows, that has always been the case. I like this twist, I’m not sure I’ve seen it before!

It borders on tragic! He probably doesn’t know how he survived the selection match. He knows he’s always getting into danger and thinks he has no way out. Poor guy! You know what? I take back “borders on tragic.” It is tragic!

this happens a lot lately

In the meantime, Tanjiro and the girl have left both the demon and Boar head behind and discovered the kids’ brother. He’s alright folks! It seems the boy has special blood, so when he got dragged away it attracted more demons who all started to fight over who got to eat him. The drum demon got injured and lost one of his drums, which the brother managed to grab and use, immediately bringing him to another room, safe for the moment. Since then, he’s just been using the drum as soon as he sees anything and that’s kept him safe.

This is smart! Really smart! I like that. A victim that desperately needs help but isn’t just a prop or completely helpless. It just makes the character more real, you know?

It does. The little boy’s not a plot device to show how awesome Tanjiro is. That detail made him into the little scared boy trying desperately to stay alive. That’s a ton more dramatic!

yeah!

Tanjiro also thinks this was a great plan because he decides to face the demon alone and tells the girl and her brother to keep doing what they’ve been doing. Banging the drum at the slightest hint of danger. He promises to find them again when the battle is over.

Two things I quite liked happened here. First, the show addressed Tanjiro’s injuries. I still think he is inhumanly resilient, but they do go out of their way to show us that he did get treatment and that he is still in serious pain. Enough to affect his abilities. And he has been in pain all along! We even saw that Zenitsu is the form of Tanjiro’s insecurities which was pretty funny.

The explanation is still a little lacking but at least the story does take it into account. Were you happy with this explanation Crow?

also, he used an ointment, good as new!

Yeah, and I’ll do the opening Kimino thing here: Yes, many of us men are really that much of an idiot. We’ll push through pain just to look tough. Who are we trying to impress? Everyone, of course! Especially ourselves. Even worse? I’m an oldest son. Yes, we oldest sons will often go through stupid pain simply because we don’t want to disappoint mom or dad. It’s why medical folks have to make billboards that say men shouldn’t be stupid and ignore pain — we should go to the hospital instead! Well, this billboard kinda sums it up. So, what Tanjiro did isn’t just realistic. I’ve done it myself (though not with broken leg).

The second thing I liked was the fight itself. This was just gorgeous. That constantly spinning room, with Tanjiro’s clothes, hair and entire body weight visibly adjusting to the shifting gravity. The animation was so smooth and consistent that it was mesmerising. I feel a little bad for anyone with motion sickness, as I assume the quick and constant movement must not have been pleasant. However, I thought it was beautifully done! I’m ok with watching fights that take 3 episodes to get through if they look this good!

I think this is what the word spectacular was invented for. It was such a unique battlefield! Last time I saw room spinning like that was in the movie Inception, and I think it was more effective here!

you had to see it

It might, in fact, take three episodes to get through this fight as episode 12 ended before Tanjiro got the chance to get to the demon. And I screamed at my tv!

The pep talk he needed to get himself to that last moment was fantastic! “My injuries are making me imagine the most awful things!” struck me as powerfully authentic. Like the detail of the little boy clutching the drum, Tanjiro’s inner dialogue elevated him from just another hero to a young man struggling to keep it together. Little touches like that are setting this show apart for me.

As much as I enjoyed this week’s Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba, there was one little thing that kept gnawing in the back of my mind. Nezuko is still all alone out there. Is it still daylight out?

I could be glib and say that in the OP and ED, we see Nezuko in the same frame as Zenitsu and boar head dude, so she’s got to be okay, right? Right? Sigh. Yes, I’m worried about her. Not only is the sunlight a danger to her, but other demon slayers haven’t been as understanding of her situation as Tanjiro…

Reviews of the Other Episodes

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 01: Cruelty

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 02: Trainer Sakonji Urokodaki

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 03: Sabito and Makomo

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 04: Final Selection

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 05: My Own Steel

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 06: A Friend fo All Humans

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 07: Muzan Kibutsuji

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 08: The Smell of Enchanting Blood

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 09: Temari Demon and Arrow Demon

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 10: Together Forever

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 11: Tsuzumi Mansion

just want Nezuko back!

Of course, I took a lot of screencaps! And yes, I would love to share them with you!

  Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 12: Delicatesse Welcome back, one and all, to our Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba discussion post! I’m glad I get to share this show with you and grateful to…

[reekierevelator]

The Face of Tomorrow

Sitting, eyes red and head drooping, foot almost glued to the pedal, feeding the coarse material through the needle.  At last, she moved her foot away and let her head fall. Another piece finished.  Twenty shirts, all exactly the same, already today.

But before Ode could take a few moments to rest her arms and have a sip of water the foreman arrived to snatch away the finished shirt, saying ‘Atta girl, plenty more where that came from’, and pushed a sewing pattern down in front of her tired eyes. This was quickly followed by ‘Here you go then, next piece’ as he thrust a pile of cut-outs on to the heavily scratched beech wood of her small work desk.  The new pieces were in a dazzling shade of almost iridescent blue with a subtle pattern of thin black lines running through them. Ode sat up and stared, mesmerised. The foreman couldn’t understand it. ‘It’s the same shirt dear, just different material’ he explained slowly, as if Ode was some kind of simpleton.

Since leaving school Ode had spent long hours working in the dilapidated red brick building only the boss calls the Golden Garment Company factory.  Her fellow workers called it the workshop. Her old school friends called it the sweatshop. Long hours and poor pay, but ‘it’s a job’. And without qualifications Ode felt lucky to be employed at all.  She knew it was only because her mother had taught her the basic skills required – through making her sew and mend from a very young age, - that she’d got the job in the first place.  In her own family, new clothes were a rare and almost unheard of luxury. It had been that way since they had fled to escape the fighting, arriving in Britain from Nigeria when Ode was a small child.  

She had never owned the kind of on-trend fashionable clothes that she’d seen on some of the city’s girls. And she knew anyway that she was plain and unattractive. Fancy clothes wouldn’t hide that. People had never been backward in coming forward to tell her so.  

Once, she’d gone with her friend to try on expensive clothes in a posh shop – it was what they did, try them on, admire themselves in the mirrors, and then return the clothes to the rails.  Sometimes Ode took even longer as she examined the textiles, the way a particular fabric had been cut, sewn, pleated. It was much more valuable to examine the actual clothes, see exactly how they had been treated, cut on the bias or whatever, than to read about them in the odd fashion magazine that came her way. She could understand why her behaviour could irritate the woman in charge of the changing rooms and how she might get annoyed.  When Ode emerged wearing a floor length sequined gown the woman had carped ‘You don’t really fit the modelling mould, do you love? Not got the required features: not thin enough, not tall enough, and your legs are too short.’ It cut Ode to the bone, but still she couldn’t shake the obsession.

In fact she became quite acclimatised to cruel humiliation. ‘Your cheekbones are too low, nose is too big, your mouth is too wide, the shape and colour of your eyes is all wrong.’ In a way it made her more resilient. ‘You can’t squeeze into that dress my girl, even the bust’s not right.  In fact, your whole build is all wrong for those kinds of dresses. To be honest I can’t see even spending a fortune on make-up and cosmetics making much difference.’ Even when it left her almost in tears Ode found she could cope. That was just how her life was and since it was likely to stay that way she better get used to it.  

Somehow she just couldn’t help herself.  She inevitably found herself starting conversations with workmates, family, and sometimes even strangers at the bus stop by commenting on their clothes. She offered them her ideas on what might suit them better.  But what she considered sensible suggestions were often received as rudeness; unwarranted intrusions, impolite, offensive, insulting. On the odd occasions when she had ventured to make such suggestions to her friends they had either laughed out loud, asked what on earth she was thinking, or stared at her as if they thought he was going mad.  

But at least the meagre wages she was earning allowed her the very occasional luxury purchase. The unusual blue cloth triggered her desire.  At the end of the day she noticed the scrag end of a roll abandoned on the cutting room floor. She picked it up and approached the foreman.

‘Could I take this home with me?’ she asked

The foreman knew there was not enough material for another garment and that it would only be swept up and put in the refuse with the rest of the rubbish. He barked back ‘Of course not, it belongs to the company,’

‘I could pay for it,’ Ode answered timidly.

‘How much?’

‘I have six pounds saved,’ said Ode, rummaging in her pocket then stretching out her hand showing him the money.

The foreman cast his eyes furtively around the now empty room. ‘Sold’, he muttered, quickly grabbing the cash from Ode’s hand.

With the dress-making skills her mother had somewhat forcefully bequeathed to her Ode intended to cut the material into embellishments for her existing clothes.  But then she struck on the idea of unpicking the stitching of her own dress and using her own quirky ideas to remake it in a wholly new style, one she imagined would show off the blue material properly. The dress she created was highly unusual, a peculiar variation on the traditional dress of her ancestors, a new take on the sort of clothes her mother wore as if she still walked the Nigerian countryside every day. A matching gele, or headdress, completed the effect.

At first her best friend, Uma, impulsive and beautiful, with big eyes and an impish smile, was the only one she would allow to see her new ‘African’ dress. Then one day Uma said ‘Is real neat, yah. But what you gonna do wit it though – just sit at home wearin it, starin at youself in the mirror like you famous?  Shu, no girl like you ever gonna wear that kinda thing on the street.’

But maybe that was just the challenge Ode had been waiting for.  The very next Saturday she wore her highly original new dress while accompanying Uma to Harlesden market, shopping for yams, plantain, and cooking bananas.  She drew admiring glances from other girls, saying ‘Stunna, innit’ and ‘You got an ankara buba now Ode?’.  Even some of the boys approached her, passing comments like ‘That’s a wicked colour’, and ‘Cool dress’.  A white boy mentioned her ‘Impressive kaftan.’

Ode’s girlfriends were quick to convert to a full appreciation of the new style. They found themselves re-thinking the fashion advice Ode had tried to give them, which they’d previously rejected as ridiculously outlandish. It didn’t take long before they were asking her advice on materials, and arranging for Ode to run up clothes for them at home after they brought her the lengths of cloth they’d bought.

One Saturday afternoon Ode and Uma passed the unimposing little shopfront of a professional photographer.  They paused outside for a moment before Uma, on the spur of the moment, marched in, her friend trailing behind, and asked him to take photos of her. ‘For a fashion model portfolio?’ the photographer had joked, and Uma surprised herself when, the idea having been put in her head, she replied ‘Well yes.’ When she asked him for the names and addresses of modelling agencies her Ode’s laughter became uncontrollable. But still, he’d gamely suggested a few names while keeping his grin in check.

Uma collected the big glossy photos the next weekend and posted them off to New Vision Models, one of the names she’d remembered.  Surprisingly, the agency, under pressure to demonstrate greater ‘diversity’, invited her for an interview. But when Uma arrived to speak to Zelda it was quickly clear that she wasn’t really interested. Uma was glad she’d gone alone and that her friend wasn’t there to hear Zelda’s casual, acerbic comments on her height, weight, and the size of her feet.

Zelda’s phone rang.  It was an urgent request.  One of their clients had put together a mail order catalogue that had to go to print next day and they’d only just realized all the models they’d used were white. They couldn’t afford to be depicted as racially biased and they couldn’t afford to re-schedule the printing job.  In fact, business was so bad because of all the new online retailers that unless the catalogue brought in a lot of sales they knew the company was going to collapse anyway.  As a matter of fact they couldn’t even afford to pay the usual going rate for models but they desperately needed someone within the hour.

So for a minimal fee, from which Uma would earn only ‘experience’, the agency sent her to wear cheap clothes for some quickfire photographs which would be included in a mail order women’s clothes catalogue that would be printed in great haste on cheap paper. In their hurry a shot was taken of Uma wearing the dress in which she’d arrived, a dress designed and stitched together by Ode. The photo was included along with an arbitrary price the catalogue editor had made up on the spot.

Inevitably, the catalogue’s readers hated the clothes and bought very little.  But even while the company was folding, comments proliferated across the social media about one of the models, how she was so different to the usual mannequin-like catalogue clothes-horses and actually looked like a ‘normal lively girl’ for a change. As attention was directed towards Uma, more readers also commented that the only item of clothing in the catalogue that was worth buying was one that she modelled – a sort of esoteric take on traditional West African dress. Unusually, the dress was in bright pink rather than the usual primary colours and its pattern was picked out in subtle, swirling crimson and gold.  Surprisingly, the cut was for a casual dress style, a chiseled cut and only knee-length, with a rectangular neckline. Equally surprisingly, the dress was still somehow unmistakeably African.

While casually flicking through Instagram discussions a young man linked it to a message he sent to the husband of Phoebe, a young aspiring clothes designer. ‘People are saying there’s someone, something out there, that is “different” ‘.

When the husband brought it to her attention Phoebe investigated.  She checked Instagram. The nape of her neck prickled. She tracked down a copy of the printed catalogue.  She phoned the catalogue company, then the modelling agency, and then Uma herself. When she discovered who had made the catalogue’s one outstanding clothes item her sense of excitement went into overdrive. She ran out of her office in Jermyn Street and was soon on the Bakerloo Line heading north to Harlesden.  When she found the flat in the high-rise she confused Ode’s mother by asking to talk to the girl with the perfect eye.

The social media hubbub also reached Zelda.  She was quickly back in contact with Uma, offering her more work, and insisting the company could live up to its name of New Vision.

Ode handed in her notice at the sweatshop. The foreman told her to stay, warned her she’d regret leaving, since his own pay was linked to production and he knew how hard Ode worked. But Ode began working with Phoebe.  With Ode’s ideas and Phoebe’s business contacts it wasn’t long before they were selling vast numbers of new garments, not only throughout the UK but to the near two hundred million Nigerians and to other parts of West Africa.

Within a year Uma’s cheerful face was on billboards and the cover of Cosmopolitan. She was following in the footsteps of Iman and Naomi Campbell.

But Ode’s face, despite the cheekbones being too low, nose too big, mouth too wide, and shape and colour of the eyes all wrong, was the real face of tomorrow. It was already to be found on the inside pages of Business Today as well as StyleWatch, Glamour, and West Africa Now.  The world had moved on. The face of Britain was multicultural and not only was the West African market online, but the whole face of Africa was changing fast. Given the respect accorded a top class designer, business couldn’t be better.