#chattery night.. many thoughts.

[canary-song]

Handful of Noir headcanons pt.3! More paragraphy this time, but still in list format.

-When in public in other Spiderpeoples' universes, he's opted to wearing a (preferably black) medical mask for comfort. He doesn't necessarily have trouble with his face, but the act of being seen by strangers and having to worry about expressing himself 'the correct way' is discomforting at best.

-Perpetually tired glare-ish resting face, which he doesn't actually mean most of the time.

-Was shown a few videos of indoor additions to walls for cat owners and has since added several for Dingding, along with any strays that stay by for a few days. It's not much, but he's definitely hung upsidedown next to Dingding on one of her perches while reading before

-Picked up sewing for basic repair skills before being Spiderman to help around the house, has gotten far better due to circumstance (especially in comparison to the first hatchet job of making his mask), and now finds it rather calming + is always willing to help repair others' suits.

-Responds to text messages either with the most minimal response possible, or with an essay response that's competing with the max character count permitted.

-One of those Peters thats vision issues was never made better by the spiderbite and has the thickest most unrealistically opaque lenses known to man. It adds to the Look until he takes them off and walks straight into a wall.

-Dark chocolate fan

[lqfiles]

PAY THE PRICE — 11. a late welcome party

(wc: 1.535)

despite the many unfamiliar faces surrounding the table you were sat at, it was surprisingly loud and chattery. with jaemin sat beside you, you eyed your apartment-mates with a shy, yet also intrigued look while you waited for everyone to settle. “is everyone here?” jaemin asked after the chatter had died down and all eyes landed on him. with the confirmation of everyone’s presence, jaemin stood up and clasped his hands together with a wide smile plastered on his face.

“for those of you who haven’t formally met (—) over here” jaemin’s arm had reached down to pat your shoulder as he spoke. “please greet her nicely. she is so amazing, one of my best friends and i hope all of you can treat her well! and also.. what else.. yeah i think that’s it, just introduce yourself one more time please.” jaemin blabbered on, taking a seat again after he finished introducing you.

it was quite embarrassing, as the rest of the restaurant was eyeing your table with curiosity or a hidden annoyance at the unnecessarily loud way jaemin was talking in. you shied away and looked at your lap in embarrassment.

jaemin was unapologetically embarrassing, but you can’t say that you didn’t love him for it.

“order whatever your guys want, me and doyoung are paying!” jaemin announced before he walked off, leaving the guy you assumed was doyoung with a perplexed expression, standing up to follow jaemin. “huh? what are you talking about! you said it was just you who was going to pay!” were the last words you heard before both disappeared into the distance.

a few seconds of silence had passed and you wondered if you should’ve been the one to break it. luckily for you, the girl on the far left beat you to it. “hello (—), it’s nice to finally meet you face to face.” she started. “i’m haewon.” she added after a few more seconds and her smile was kind as she sent you a small wave from across the table. a wave you reciprocated quickly.

your eyes had slowly drifted to the person who sat beside her, occupied with adjusting his jacket behind his chair and fishing out his phone. “have i.. met you before?” were the first words you muttered that night, unintentionally catching the attention of the rest of the table. the question was left unanswered for a moment until the boy had looked up from his phone. “me?” he pointed towards himself in question, confusion painted on his face.

you weren’t expecting him to hear you, eyes widening for a second before you hesitantly nodded. you watched as his own eyebrows furrowed for a moment and he slightly titled his head in the process. “have we?” he asked you back. you hummed, attempting to remember why his face seemed so familiar.

“didn’t you give me free cookies on my first day here?”

“oh.” he deadpanned, eyebrows relaxing as the realisation hit him too. “yeah.. i guess.” he scratched the back of his neck, almost unsure of his own answer. “yeah, you were the one who gave me those cookies, the boyscout cookies boy or something, right?”

“well.. not exactly..” he started before shaking his head. “sure.” he responded back instead, sending you a tight-lipped smile. it probably wasn’t a genuine smile, but you didn’t want to look to deep into it.

“and i’m isa, remember?” the girl that sat next to him interrupted. she had a warm smile present on her face, sending you an excited wave. you couldn’t help but return it, remembering how you had previously run into her.

by the time jaemin and doyoung had returned, everyone had managed to introduce themselves and chatter started once again. turning your head to your left, you noticed jaemin’s spaced out look, wondering what was on his mind. “what’s up?” you voiced. jaemin snapped out of his thoughts, turning to look back at you.

“well, uh.. i invited haechan and he said he would come.. did he come yet?” jaemin admitted with a hesitant smile. hesitant for a reason as he watched your expression drop immediately. “you what?” you asked, almost sure you misheard him. “why would you do that? he didn’t even want to come anyways!” you complained, almost grabbing jaemin by the collar for inviting the one person whom you’ve seemed to have nothing but bad experiences with.

“i didn’t want to leave him out okay! i thought that maybe you guys just started on bad terms and a little gathering with everyone could change that..” jaemin reasoned, backing away from you and your evident frustration. “he can’t be that bad, (—).”

“yeah, i can’t be that bad.” the both of you heard from behind, and you jolted in your seat, swiftly turning to look back and seeing haechan stood a meter away. speaking of the devil himself.

“fucking hell.” you groaned, turning to look back at jaemin who apologetically smiled at you. he mouthed a small apology that went unnoticed as you instead watched haechan sit in the only seat left on the table that coincidentally was right across from you, a grin on his face that you could only describe as devious.

he cant be that bad, you repeated in your head while locking eyes with haechan who took of his coat and leaned back into the chair. you were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt once more, maybe you did indeed start off bad and could fix whatever issues you two had at this dinner.

except that didn’t happen, and he was indeed as bad as you knew him as. in fact, he was probably much more annoying now that you were sat near him for up to 50 minutes. with continues back talking, small comments here and there, or him just straight up ignoring your attempts at talking to him, you came to the conclusion that he genuinely was just an asshole, and the wall between your rooms wasn’t the issue.

fuck an apology, jaemin would have to physically kiss your feet for the next few days for this stunt he pulled.

you were glad at his lack of talking as you all were nearing the end of your meals. it gave you time to truly appreciate the welcoming atmosphere the rest had brought as they shared stories about the apartment and told you more about themselves. haechan was much more interested in his phone, and you thanked the heavens for it as you relaxed, a smile growing on your face.

“can you engage in the conversation and put your phone away haechan?” perhaps jaemin was the devil instead with the way he managed to keep ruining this dinner.

the table turned silent, and haechan looked up from his phone, almost wondering if jaemin was talking about a different haechan. he wasn’t. haechan sighed before reluctantly putting his phone in his pocket, and crossing his arms. you wondered why he listened so easily to jaemin, taking note of how it didn’t take him much convincing.

“soooo… what is it like living next to haechan, (—)?” it seemed like kissing your feet wouldn’t be enough for jaemin to redeem himself. no, he’d have to make a public apology every single day at this point.

the table grew painfully silent and you groaned before you reluctantly answered. you were sure no one else was going to say anything, except for maybe jaemin. but you’re sure that whatever will come out of his mouth will do nothing but make this dinner worse.

“well, you know, it’s definitely an experience.” you answered shortly, refusing to look haechan’s way. the scoff was undoubtedly his though, and you could only imagine the expression of disbelief present on his face as you still refused to look at him. though, you did turn your head at the sound of a chair scraping the ground, and the figure across you standing up.

haechan took ahold of his coat and had put it on in a matter of seconds. “i think i’ve stayed here enough, i’m full. thank you for paying for my food jaemin, i’ll be going now.” he announced and shoved the chair back in, eyes locking with you one more time. you could’ve sworn that he raised his eyebrow at you, almost challenging you, but he was already gone by the time you had registered it.

everyone seemed to have simultaneously turned to jaemin, possibly all questioning the same thing. “i’m sorry, i just didn’t wanna leave him out. he’s normally nice, i swear! i didn’t think he was going to be difficult today..” jaemin apologised to you specifically, but you barely heard him.

you were tired, and you blamed haechan for it, regardless of whether it was his fault of not. he was undoubtedly a jerk, and you felt silly for giving him the benefit of the doubt once again. god was truly testing you by making him your neighbour.

“i’m gonna go too.” were the last words you said that night. you needed a distraction and on the way back home, you texted the only person you knew could help you with that.

previous — master list — next

notes ; sorry guys i had to lock in for a few days cos of college but we are BACK. not cool haechan 😑

TAGLIST ; @90s-belladonna @pnkified @2jisungs @swee7dream @sinisxtea @en-dream @h-aecat @lostinneocity @sunflowerbebe07 @pookime @aerivrs @alethea-moon @yeritos @prettyrenjunn @manooffline @bath1lda @hyejooistic @emvrd @dojaejunging @odxrilove @hyuckluvr-com @jaeims @ihyucksol @tddyhyck @dalsosapple @https-yeonjun @luvlyrenwoo @yoursyuno @lilacsxjoon @heymsperfectlyfine @mystverse @ne0c0r3 @casperbutnot-theghost @hyuckies18 @w3bqrl @ckline35 @nosungluv @luvvsnae @chcnlcs @cryingforgyu @thatgirlkay @222brainrot @aggtslva @n0hyuck @sinsgaybutthatsokay @choerubies @goldustupmysea @cyber-innie @hyunjungjae @blamemef0rit @lowkeychenle @lecheugo

[praxianpoet]

Lost Not Light: Chapter 2

Optimus Prime heeds Prowl's warnings about Megatron in the worst possible way; making him the tyrant's official chaperone aboard the Lost Light.

///////////////////////

Basically Prowl gets sent to the Lost Light for an attitude adjustment disguised as a mission and the Constructicons tag along, using the opportunity to more aggressively court their sixth now that he's essentially alone. ao3

Five Constructicons walk into a bar.

Chatter hushed to raised whispers; the bartender asked, “Any weapons?”

“Got your weapon right here,” Bonecrusher flexed. “A weapon of mass-construction.”

Awkward laughter, somebody coughed; the loud chatter and overcharged revelry recommenced. The little red and white bartender laughed the loudest, his expression of befuddled amusement. Bonecrusher grinned, real proud of himself for that one. Their entire night’s plan would fail if they couldn’t get their peds through Swerve’s door, and Bonecrusher was pretty sure he’d just earned them their ticket in with a good if hokey joke.

“Alright, alright,” the little bot nodded. “Tables are free, drinks aren’t—got any preference?”

Mixmaster took that as his cue to saddle up to the bar while the rest of them looked for the whole reason they’d decided to join in on the first night's fun.

Long Haul took point on locating their objective, using his height to scan over the crowd. Scavenger, their most curious member, turned his helm in every direction it could, not out of any enthusiasm for their objective, but to scope out all the bots who didn’t know him. Some who didn’t even know of him—the gestalt’s personal loose screw was already imagining how he could twine himself onto already established clicks; endearing himself to them in ways that had never worked among their old faction.

Bots liked chattery little try-hards. Decepticons? Scavenger never would have made it without the rest of the team, a fact they regularly reminded him of.    

Hook’s arms were crossed in front of his chassis, field held tightly around himself. The surgeon had never liked crowds—crowds meant mingling with the masses, potentially bumping armor, or even, primus forbid, talking to them. And their hoity-toity Hook was too good for that; mech thought himself too good for just about everything and everyone. Except for the gestalt. For Prowl. 

Bonecrusher only had optics for the low-quality engex, blues and bright yellows, floating in polished glasses on the bar counter, the high-grade cubes that glittered in mecha’s servos, reflecting its glowing energy off round, dirty tables, and sat unbound on shelves lined with Cybertronian liquor. All wonderful opportunities for the Bonecrusher to exhibit his virtuosity—all brilliant little bombs ready to go off with the right detonator.

Good stuff, that high-grade. Lower quality, but not cheap. Problem was, he could tell the additives it had been blended with from visuals alone; proving the blend hadn’t been mixed by a master.

The flints of minerals and metals glinted in the bar’s dim lighting, giving the cubes a glimmer that reflected off bright Autobot armor. The resulting destruction were he determined to set it off would have been pretty, bordering on beautiful, a fine example of Bonecrusher’s particular vision of art. Only there were too many variables out of his control, the timing of the sequential explosions, the specifics of minerals, and even the amount of high-grade in the bots’ tanks were unknowns that could spatter his work with imperfections. And if he couldn’t control every aspect of the demolition, it wouldn’t be perfect; if it wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t worth it.

Prowl was worth it.

There were a lot of faces surrounding the bar, hopped up on stools, even more crowded together at the tables pushed up against the wall; toward the back, there was a circle of mecha who had cleared space for their own makeshift dance floor. If their unsynchronized bouncy shuffles could even be considered dancing. Huh, looks like the old Decepticon adage that an Autobot’s back-strut was too stiff to dance was right.

Simply put, the place was stuffed fuller than a pleasure-bot on payday.

Bonecrusher grinned behind his mask at the pack of wannabe dancers, wondering if he could convince Long Haul to toss Hook into the mass, and give this party some real entertainment. A ripple of amusement passed through the bond as Long Haul picked up on his thoughts. Beside them, Hook’s armor drew in impossibly tighter even as his field lashed out in warning at his conspiratorial teammates.

Don’t you dare.

They shared a chuckle at their surgeon’s expense but left the idea as nothing more than an amusing thought. Heavy-duty frames like theirs had to tread lightly on razor-thin ice; they couldn’t afford to crack through the Autobots' scarcely gained tolerance. There was too much ground for the Constructicons to lose so early into the voyage.

Was a big night, the first night. The Lost Light had breached Cybertron’s atmosphere and in less than a breem, the sounds of partying could be heard all throughout the ship. It bounced through the halls, coming from closed doors and shared recreational spaces, but the loudest had come from the bar. Music and mechs—now femmes too—all excitedly jabbering about what the voyage held, what their part would be in the grand epic of a quest: the adventure, the mystery, the romance.

Bonecrusher snorted at his own thoughts; romance, right.

Before the first merge, back when the Autobot was just a tool slotting in with tabs b, c, d, e, and g—before they knew Prowl was Prowl—the Constructicons would have sworn there wasn’t a romantic wire in their frames and would have fought anyone who suggested otherwise. But now?

Here they were on a ship full of Autobots, their own plating smooth where a purple sigil was once engraved, and looking for the one bot that had recently skyrocketed up their ever-lengthening frag that guy list; the only other to have made the list so fast was that puny fleshling, Spike Witwickey. The human held the record. Probably always would.

And if joining this slagged up, hug-fest, hippy-dippy ship’s crew wasn’t romance; the Constructicons would beat anyone who said as much.

The demolitionist rolled his neck, huffing and cracking stiff joints—what love did to a mech…Bonecrusher shook his helm, a rueful smile hiding underneath his mask, the demolitionist unused to his own foppish musings.

Within its casing, his spark swirled and warmed with affirmation from the gestalt bond; they all felt the same deep love for their sixth and they were all unfamiliar with the amorous turn their thoughts had turned in the light of that love. Warm fuzzies all around; Scavenger even turned from scouring his future victims (potential friends) to gently touch Bonecrusher’s elbow in assurance.

He frowned and shook off his teammate’s touch, not caring how the shorter mech wilted at the rejection; little Scav had thought they were having a moment. Over Bonecrusher’s greyed out husk. Just because he loved the little weirdo the same as he loved every other Constructicon didn’t mean he would tolerate the excavator’s wimpishness. They might be one big fragged up family who loved each other, had no hang-ups admitting as much, and would offline anyone who was dumb enough to call them weak for it—but they were in love with Prowl. It was different. New. Exciting. Terrifying. Excruciating.

Agreeing rumbles all around and Bonecrusher forced himself to focus on their self-assigned mission.

With Long Haul taking his sweet aft time finding the cog sucker they’d come to cosey up to, Bonecrusher decided to turn his gaze from the glowing cubes of temptation to the bots holding them, trying to spot who his taller teammate had missed. All he saw were blue optics and red badges.

Bonecrusher sneered behind his mask; it was no wonder the Decepticons hadn’t put their faith in the Lost Light’s frivolous voyage. The Constructicons hadn’t either. That wannabe Prime, Roddy-something, could make all the grand speeches he wanted about finding Cyberutopia and the Knights of Cybertron—but who would that utopia really be for? There wasn’t a single con onboard that hadn’t given up the faction and there wasn’t a coolant drop of doubt between them that the Constructicons would have been granted permission to join the crew’s roster had they not scrubbed their armor clean of branding before registering; idly Bonecrusher brushed a servo over the center of his bare-green chassis, the phantom ache of the nanites’ removal a reminder of just what they had been willing to give up for their ultimate goal.

The Constructicons didn’t believe in some distant fable of a Cyberutopia or need the recognition that would come with being part of the crew that found it; they believed in Prowl. They needed Prowl.

The real, tangible (touchable) Prowl who had holed himself up in the storage closet of an office he’d commandeered almost immediately after the Constructicons had placed their praxian’s soft, breakable berth into his personal quarters. They’d all made up excuses their bot didn’t believe, but had been too exasperated to call them out on, as to why all five of them were needed to heft the berth into his quarters, slowly, slow enough for an experienced construction mech to scan a full schematic of the rectangular space and learn the room’s exact measurements; course that was just hypothetical. Heh.

Out of their gestaltmates' unnecessary personal quarters, Prowl had marched around the ship like he owned it—and the Constructicons would make a valiant effort if that’s what he really wanted—looking for an empty room to take as an office. Because of course, he’d have an office. Their boss bot wasn’t on some pleasure cruise, he had a very important mission to accomplish, or so he had claimed while rejecting the Constructicons’ offer to parse out a section of their larger-than-most habitation suite for the tactician to use.

Once he’d picked a room, Bonecrusher and Long Haul had helped him set it up, tossing heavy boxes of whatever out into the hall until it was sufficiently empty enough to fit their praxian’s fancy desk and chair, barely. His gestalt mates had radiated their jealousy through the bond over Long Haul and Bonecrusher being the only ones allowed in such a tight space with their sixth, but the closet the praxian had picked out was too small to fit all the construction mechs at once; two comfortably, three if they squeezed.

They’d find him a new, bigger office later once they’d gotten ahold of or built their own blueprints of the ship.

Bonecrusher and Long Haul had used the opportunity to get in close with their smallest gestaltmate at every opportunity—Long Haul going so far as to use his longer limbs to accidentally brush against a stiff doorwing, just one digit casually running along the tip as he reached over top their praxian to look at a questionable (perfectly fine) light fixture above where he stood—it had been cute the way Prowl had chased them out immediately after; practically hissing like a turbo-fox, doorwings raised like hackles.

The desk he tossed in their direction was less so.

Long Haul had apologized for the accidental touch, not meaning a word of it. Prowl knew and went back to his usual silent treatment, watching the construction mechs through narrowed optics as they reset the desk and bowed out of the makeshift office before their praxian could start contemplating a chair toss.

The touch had been worth it though and Bonecrusher had been the first to slap Long Haul on the back out of respect for a job well done once the office door was closed. They’d be reliving the sensation of the intentional brush up in the privacy of their hab-suite for the orns—or until a more prolonged contact took its place. And there would be more: longer, willing, intimate contact with their sixth.

The Constructicons never left a job half done and wooing Prowl was easily the most demandingly complex one they had ever taken on. It would also be the most rewarding once complete. Once they were complete.  

The barbed walls their sixth had built around his spark would crumble under the might of Devastator, and each time the tactician painstakingly built them back up, blocking them from his side of the bond; the Constructicons would be observing, learning the tools and materials he used for their construction. The Constructicons’ courtship of Prowl would be a controlled demolition, identifying the structural weaknesses in his barriers and strategically (heh) targeting them, breaching closer and closer until it was too late for another rebuild because they were already on the other side.

Sweet anticipation rippled through the bond.

Turning from thoughts of their sixth to what they were attempting to accomplish for him, Bonecrusher’s visor narrowed as he sought out a homely white helm and a hideously gangly frame. Even in a crowd, the tall fragger should have been easy to spot. Was hard to hide that much ugly.

If they didn’t find their first choice of Autobum to cozy up to soon then they would need to pick another while enough of the partying crew was still sober enough to remember how well-behaved and welcoming the Constructicons had been during the Lost Light’s first underway party. They only required their chosen bot to be of a popular sort, a real name onboard and not one of the rejects who had joined as some misplaced grab at notoriety. They also couldn’t know any of the Constructicons personally, at least not too well. The one exception was Clown-dome, but he didn’t really know them, only their close association with Prowl. That fight at the cliffs didn’t count; any con would have done the same.

There he is.

Bonecrusher’s helm whipped around to where Long Haul was not so subtly shoulder gesturing to, his visor brightening as he spotted their quarry. His face mask hid the predatory smile that split his faceplate and a rumble of delight at how vulnerable their prey had left himself.

Seated all alone in a booth pushed against the side of the bulkhead, hunched over the table, and surrounded by what appeared to be multiple empty high-grade cubes sat Chromedome. There was no sign of approaching partiers, the bargoers appearing to be giving the lonesome bot a wide berth—just enough for five Constructicons to squeeze through.

Without waiting for the others, Bonecrusher set out on a path directly to the booth. Scavenger and Hook were close to follow, with Long Haul making up the rear as he usually does. A few scathing glances were sent their way as they passed partying bots and even more scrutinizing looks followed the ex-cons as they made their way through the crowd and into the empty space around their chosen company’s empty booth.

As he came closer, Bonecrusher noted that just above the table there was a single, small round window giving a limited view of the space outside. An odd design choice and one the Constructicons wouldn’t have gone with had they any part in the ship’s design. It was an obvious hull vulnerability, a waste of triple reinforced plexin-glass, and even aesthetically it was pointless—there was nothing out in space worth looking at, everything worth interest was already inside the ship.

Affirmative nods reached across the bond from everyone except Scavenger (and their silent sixth), but then the excavator had always held a strange penchant for the kitschier designs.

The closer the Constructicons came to Chromedome, the more they understood why none of his fellow Autobots had been brave enough to approach.

An open, heavy wave of misery poured from the bot at the table and the Constructicons allowed it to wash over their own tightly held fields, basking in Crum-dome’s unrestrained suffering. The four empty cubes surrounding the slumped-over mech were likely the reason for the uncontrolled emotions, but the Constructicons knew its source and it tickled their sparks seeing Chromedome exactly as he always should be. Alone.

The merriment Bonecrusher allowed to peak through his own field didn’t even need to be faked.

“Hey mech, been looking for you,” Bonecrusher’s mask lowered in an audible click, revealing a sharp-if-friendly smile. “Slide on over, we got something for ya.”

The other Constructicons' mask also lowered just as the slouching bot startled, sitting up with his visor stretched wide. “What, no you’re—”

But Bonecrusher was already lowering himself to sit, his bulk easily shoving Chromedome’s lighter frame to the booth’s corner as he slid into the long, cushy seat. Across from them, Hook and Scavenger piled in, their frames only narrowly missing each other in the cramped booth, only a vent’s worth of space between them. Long Haul hadn’t even bothered, having searched around and grabbed a chair from a table, without asking, and pulled it over to the end of the booth to sit, his legs spread around its back as he faced them.

Raising his helm toward the bar, Bonecrusher spotted Mixmaster performing an impressive balancing act with multiple cubes of high-grade balance on his bent, raised arms, a cube held in each servo for good measure. Scavenger spotted him too and they waved their teammate over, calling him through the bond.

Here, this way, we got him. 

Mixmaster’s optics lit up at the urging and carefully started making his way over to their booth, dodging various passersby and narrowly avoiding the gyrating mecha who had fumbled their way from the dancefloor. 

Chromedome didn’t wait for the mixologist to arrive before questioning the ex-cons surrounding him. “Did Prowl send you? This some kind of elavrate revenge?” The pointed accusation was dulled by slurred vocals and Bonecrusher was left wondering what the mech had actually meant to say.

Elaborate, Hook supplied and the rest of the Constructicons internally shrugged it off as unimportant. Kind of like the waste of parts himself, Chromedome.

What Prowl had seen in that walking set of rusted-rebar the Constructicons would never understand; except they did understand. They’d been in Prowl’s memories and seen everything to do with this particular toxic waste dumping ground of a relationship. Had seen their lonesome little bot’s exuberance at believing he had finally found someone who understood him, and would accept him—except Tumblr hadn’t understood him, Chromedome would never accept him; the Constructicons had done both and more. They were everything Prowl had ever wanted; he just refused to acknowledge the spark-proven truth.

Their praxian would though, there was only so long a logical processor like Prowl’s could deny the obvious. Especially with the Constructicons’ using the voyage as a means to prove their usefulness to the tactician in more ways than just their unparalleled construction abilities.

They’d have him, it wasn’t a matter of if but when.

“What, Prowl? Noooo,” Bonecrusher started, the others joining in, scoffing and snorting their denial. “Boss bot doesn’t even know we’re here—he’s been locked up in that little office of his for joors now.”

“His office? Here, on the ship; Prowl has an office?” Chromedome questioned; as if it was even a question.

“It’s Prowl, of course he has an office,” Long Haul shrugged, not feeling a need to elaborate.

The bot seemed to feel the same way, accepting the answer with a nod, but his unrestrained field was a buzz with uncertainty, hostility, and buried beneath all that, fear. That have been great, warmed Bonecrusher’s spark to know that even in a congenial setting they were able to pull that kind of reaction from a bot. Unfortunately, the Constructicons had settled on a play-nice strategy for the voyage and as satisfying as the fear was, they were attempting to engineer a more…amicable response from the mnemosurgeon.

Chromedome’s attention was taken from the Constructicons seated with him to the one who had finally reached their table as Mixmaster finally joined them. Not a drop of high-grade was spilled and he started placing the drinks on the table, putting one in front of each of the seated Constructicons before finally pushing away the empty cubes that had been surrounding Chromedome and replacing them with a bright pink, larger-than-everyone-else’s-cube containing something that smelled sweet, but potent.

Mix then took a seat on the sliver of bench remaining next to Bonecrusher, precariously balancing himself by placing a servo on one of Long Haul’s spread legs. The mixer gave said leg a squeeze, servo sliding up the larger mech’s leg higher than strictly necessary in a subtle tease.

Long Haul’s engine growled low, the larger mech sending an amused threat across the bond, implying he’d get Mix back for that later—something Bonecrusher looked forward to watching, preferably while they were all bonding and reexamining that brush of doorwings from earlier. Scavenger echoed his thoughts.

Hook sighed, loudly, continuing as though he hadn’t noticed the scrawny mech’s fear or his team’s less-than-pure turn of thought. “We helped him with the furniture arrangement and when we dared to linger–he flung the desk at us.”

Alright, back to business; being visibly chummy with Chump-dome.

“Was worried we’d have to build him a new one,” Long Haul chimed in.

“Three times!” Scavenger lifted his digits to the number, and the Constructicons all shared a laugh at the exaggerated memory.

“…heh,” Chromedome finally laughed with them, it was small, more of a chuckle than a full guffaw, but it was something. It was an in.

“He does that,” the Autobot tacked on, bringing life to his visor, the mech obviously taking the Constructions’ affectionate riffing at face value; as a derisive dig at their praxian. As if they would ever, as if Crud-dome had the right.

An astro-click of outrage flashed through the Constructicons, and in an exercise of previously untapped restraint, they reigned it in; kept their furious fields, full of violent desire, held close and their smiles wide, encouraging. Long Haul even managed a laugh, expression bright as he tilted a cube in the bot’s direction. Their faces may have been exposed, but their masks were up; even Hook had one firmly in place.

Their whole half-formed plan would fall apart if Chromedome felt threatened and seriously shooed them away, potentially calling his who-could-like-this-loser friends to do it. They needed to be big friendly hydro-pups who were happy to pall around with their new crewmates, sharing drinks and good stories all around. As the Constructicons, as Devastator, they had reputations amongst the Autobots—but that was all they had. There weren’t many bots who had actually encountered them personally on the battlefield and survived to bleat their terrified sparks out to the rest of the faction about it. And any who had ever made it to Hook’s operating table either died under the surgeon’s scalpel or offlined themselves soon after to escape the memory of piercing agony he had engraved directly into their most primordial systems.  

The Autobots knew of them, feared them and rightfully so, but they didn’t know them. Dispelling those very true rumors and winning a short-tether of trust with the crew was the second phase of their grand plan to win Prowl’s spark—the first phase was always conception, and even that was vague, Scrapper had been the master architect and without him their plans had become shaky, erased and rewritten lines on blue vellum paper. The second phase was also the most well thought out part of the plan; they weren’t even completely sure what the other phases were, only that all good plans had multiple phases. All of Prowl’s had, anyway.

But their plan was one their cute-but-competent helmsmen would have never been able to put together himself, let alone pull off. It revolved around being the one thing their sixth couldn’t be—Personable.

And it was working so far: they had gotten into the bar with no major incident, sat with a popular bot who was laughing at their jokes, enjoying their company (kind of), instead of telling them to frag off. That Chromedome hadn’t yet, considering their proximity to Prowl and the mech’s protoform deep hate of him, was their luck and they knew better than to push it.

Bonecrusher still wanted to kill him.

Stick needles into the back of their helm, root around in their processor, removing memories, leaving them spread wide open for the enemy to plug in and control—commit the deepest act of violation known to Cybertronian kind—and Cybertronians had been around for longer than most recorded species; they knew a lot.

Happen to any of them and the Constructicons would be sitting with a dead mech. Soon as they’d learned of the betrayal, they’d have welded the traitor to Hook’s med-berth, or a solid refueling table, or even built him his own personal slab of insulated metal; any flat surface would have worked, really. Then they’d have taken turns breaking him apart, putting him back together, just to take him apart all over again. It’d have been different each time, too. Each Constructicon getting to put their own preference on the method.

—Bonecrusher would widen the mech’s transformation seams, just enough to slide detonation cords throughout his frame, little tetryl boosters placed over the sensor heavy sectors, where the wires clustered. He’d set off a controlled detonation and watch as the mech’s armor rattled and broke apart in sequence, from helm to ped. After the armor fell away, the same would be done to the underlying protoform, twisting the cords into wires and fuel lines, connectors that held internals together. Layer by layer, until every piece of the mech had been broken apart under his deftly crafted demolitions. Bonecrusher would have started with the visor first, though. Just plucked that right off his face and gouged out any optics beneath. Was always fun to see himself reflected in dull optical glass, fear making them pull wide so he could see more of himself, but he enjoyed the way their electro fields went crazy wherever he touched when they didn’t know where he would touch more. The perfectly measured destruction would be beautiful, even more so if Prowl was with them watching, supervising, approving.—

They’d have killed the skinny glitch over and over again, and made him grateful for when it was the last. They still would if Prowl asked. And slag, did they wish he would ask.

But he wouldn’t. Their sixth had only gone so far as to say something mean to the scrawny slagger after finding out—Prowl was soft like that. Soft like that berth the five of them had their optics set on during that first fun move to the Lost Light. (They already had plans to modify their own after it, making it more welcoming for when their sixth eventually joined them on it.)

The Constructicons were willing to play nice with Chromedome in public, they’d suffer his continued function if only because pointing servos would immediately turn toward their sixth were he to disappear. They wanted those who would point and accuse their praxian to reassess any distaste of him because the Constructicons liked him, and they liked the Constructicons. But they had a line that couldn’t be crossed and they needed the crew to want to respect that line—Prowl.

“Yeah, he does,” Bonecrusher finally managed, vocals a rough grunt—he hoped the Autobot thought it was a laugh from shared humor. “Never seen a mech hate a piece of furniture that bad before.”

“I have,” Scavenger’s visor brightened as he wiggled in his seat, radiating an inordinate amount of enthusiasm through the bond, the excavator excited to be part of a conversation, to be tolerated by anyone but his fellow gestaltmates. “They…they hated the wash racks and never went in them, ever.”

The top of Bonecrusher’s visor raised at the mention of the seekers. The story was well known among the Decepticon rank and file but had never quite made it to the Autobots as anything more than speculation. Nothing of any significance to the war, but a juicy bit of gossip that could potentially capture a bot’s attention just enough for him to forget who was telling it.

Good call.

Scavenger beamed through the bond.

“What, ya mean the seekers? They didn’t hate wash racks, they were just scared of ‘em,” Bonecrusher said as leaned back, casually laying a strong arm across the bot’s shoulders. He felt the plating beneath his own tense, but the mech didn’t pull away. Good, good.

A tug too hard, a flex too strong, and those shoulders would buckle and bend beneath his hold; the joint sockets sparking as they tore beneath the Constructicon’s pure laborious power. The mech’s dismantling would be quick, satisfyingly so. The mnemosurgeon was worth less than a klick of the Constructicons’ time outside of a torturous setting—he wasn’t worth even a nano-second of Prowl’s.

“…The seekers were scared of wash racks?” Chromedome questioned, his tone disbelieving, the overcharged mech entirely unaware of Bonecrusher’s vicious imaginings.

Scavenger fidgeted in his seat, “they um, thought everyone wanted them? Their wings I mean. They’re not so hot though, there are uh…better wings.” The last bit was mumbled and Bonecrusher’s optics rolled behind his visor; he agreed but now wasn’t the time to subtly imply how smelter hot they all found Prowl.

“He means they thought us dirty grounders would all jump ‘em if they ever used solvent,” Bonecrusher salvaged, even though that was supposed to be Scavenger’s job. “Completely flew over their helms how not everyone’s preferences ran aerial.”

“Arrogant,” Long Haul huffed.

“Delusional,” Hook supplied.

Bonecrusher and Mixmaster hummed their agreement as they let it all sink in for the Autobot.

Chromedome’s visor was pinched, his helm tilted ever so slightly in such a way that implied concentrated thought–what little the glitched mech was capable of, overcharged or sober.

“…Did they just not wash?” The bot finally asked, likely cross-referencing everything he knew about the narcissistic frame type with the new information the Constructicons had just given him; his high-grade heavy logic drives struggling to fuse the two.

“They did,” Bonecrusher answered. “Though no one ever saw them doing it.”

“Even…even if you did, no one believed you,” Scavenger commented with a pout, having been subjected to that particular disbelief and mockery more than once.

Hook patted the excavator’s leg under the table in solidarity. The other Constructicons had shared Scavenger’s memory and believed him; hadn’t stopped them from joining in on the ridicule. Or calling him (rightfully) a creepy little voyeur.

“Most believe they made deals with Starscream for the use of his personal washracks,” Hook said. “Some even claiming it was the real reason the air armada was so loyal to him—It’s not true, but who are we to get in the way of a good rumor?”

“…So they just didn’t wash?” Chomedome asked incredulously, his optics wide in disbelief.

“Oh they did, and they were cutting deals, just not with Starscream,” Bonecrusher clarified as he glanced at the high-grade Mix had gotten them. It looked weak, but then what could he expect from an Autobot ship?

“Then who?” The bot questioned, snapped really, white plates shifting impatiently beneath Bonecrusher’s servo. A miserable and snippy drunk? Chromedome really was the worst kind of everything.

“Soundwave,” Hook answered.

“Soundwave?” Chromedome repeated.

“Soundwave,” Bonecrusher confirmed with a nod.

“But why?” The bot asked, his field finally losing that last hint of fear and hostility, replaced with open curiosity. There it was. They got him. Wouldn’t matter if the scrub bucket didn’t remember their conversation come the morning, and he probably wouldn’t. What mattered was the rest of the bar watching them have it.

“For information on Starscream, of course,” Hook smiled, delighted by the duplicitous nature of the seekers toward their own commander whenever he was reminded of it. The surgeon had always loved a good betrayal—Chromedome’s own toward Prowl the sole exception.

Were the bot not wearing a mask, Bonecrusher was pretty sure Chromedome’s jaw would have dropped. “That makes too much sense, or no sense at all, I’m not really sure I—” Cutting himself off Chromedome reached up to press long fingers onto the back of his helm. “Primus my helm hurts.”

Hook, sensing an opportunity to show off, began explaining, “It’s the high-grade, it causes the fuel in your tank to burn faster, which disrupts communication between the circuitry in your processor and your filtration system. Your processor is over-firing due to the increased demand and overcompensates for the delayed response, causing a helm-ache. Nothing a little coolant and med-grade won’t fix.”

Finishing his explanation, Hook’s derma curled into a conspiring grin. “Or if you’re looking for an immediate relief, more high-grade helps.” The medic gestured to the untouched cube of high-grade they’d bought for the Autobot.

If anything, Chromedome looked more pained by the explanation and had brought both servos up to grip his helm, squeezing and messaging it in a way the Constructicons knew wouldn’t work.

Bonecrusher used the lull in conversation to peek around the room, grinning at all the bots that had turned to openly stare at the construction mechs. He tilted his helm toward Chromedome and if not for his visor, he’d have winked. The stares were a good turn, they wanted as many optics on them as possible.

Misery had begun to seep back into Chromedome’s field, causing Bonecrusher’s grin to widen. They’d been seen, possibly accepted, which meant they were done with the scrawny bot. Best if they moved on, and found a few others to mingle with before retiring to their shared quarters. Maybe even make a few passes at Prowl if they spotted him on the way.

“Why are you here?” Chromedome questioned, breaking the table’s silence and sounding depressingly sober. Though finding no hostility directed to ward them, the Constructicons decided they had been technically successful with their mission.

The mournful mech’s misery turning toward the Constructicons was their final sign to bow out and move on, but their tolerance for Chromedome was at its lowest and the five of them sensed an opportunity. They’d continue to play nice a little longer, just enough to grab the knife of grief digging into Chromedome’s spark and twist it. All while maintaining the friendly façade of comradery.

“Course we’re here—we’re crew!” Bonecrusher crowed with a smile, acting oblivious as to the real reason the bot would be asking them that.

“No, I mean why are you here with me?” Chromedome emphasized, then through a narrowed visor. “I know Prowl hates me.”

“Hate you?” Hook frowned as if the thought had never occurred to him.

“Prowl doesn’t hate you,” Mixmaster assured.

Unfortunately.

“We are not the most…approachable mecha onboard. An inevitable consequence due to our previous loyalties,” Hook tactfully remarked. “We are attempting to change that image through repeated positive contact with the crew.” The surgeon supplied, fully confident Chromedome wouldn’t remember complete details of their conversation come morning.

“Prowl had good memories of ya, figured you’d be as good a start as any,” Bonecrusher added, hating how true the former part of his statement was.

“…He did? That’s not…,” Chromedome shook his helm only to wince, clearly not sober, but wary enough to realize maybe he should be. “Why are you really here—what do you want?”

“Why, to share a drink with a fellow crewmate—and to thank you, of course,” was Hook’s honeyed response.

“Thank me?” Chromedome puzzled.

“Course, bot like Prowl never woulda bonded with us willingly; big bad cons like us? He’d sooner offline,” Bonecrusher responded, keeping the amusement he felt at watching the bot’s frame begin to slump in response to the bulldozer’s words locked in tight around himself.

Chromedome did no such thing, the now anguish bleeding from his frame. Bonecrusher greedily soaked it in, relishing the Autobot’s torment over their cheerfully delivered thanks.

“But you gave him to us,” Scavenger whispered, red visor shining with reverence.

“Wrapped him up all pretty like an energon goodie and dropped him off at our door like an early creation day gift,” Bonecrusher complimented with a soft, appreciative rumble.

Slump. Slump. Slump.

“Best present we ever got,” Mixmaster affirmed.

They all nodded and Bonecrusher even gave the bot a good little jovial shake of appreciation.

“And Constructicons have been called a lot of things over the years, but ungrateful ain’t one of them,” Bonecrusher went on; more nodding and murmurs of agreement.

“We always pay back our dues,” he promised, visor burning a dark red.

Bonecrusher’s smile, more a nasty grin, stretched wide as he pushed a high-grade cube into one of the Autobot’s now limp servos, taking it underneath his own and squeezing to make sure the grip stuck. He felt the delicate white plating crunch, satisfyingly, underneath his hold; he didn’t let go. Instead raising the servo-held cube of high-grade up. His fellow Constructicons raised theirs in answer, smiles all around.

Bonecrusher leaned in close to the lump of limp guilt—was it guilt? His derma dangerously close to touching one of the smaller mech’s audials as he growled low, hot air venting across thin armor.

“This one’s for you, Tumblr.”

Cheers.

[darkacademicfrom2021]

Flufftober - Day 2

2 - Sneaking Out Together

@prompts-in-a-barrel prompt in bold. Written for @flufftober2021 's event.

Pairing: Loki x Stark!reader

Tags: fluff, fluff FLUFFFFFFF (this is flufftober, of course there’ll be fluff). A tiny tiny bit of angst in the beginning (if you really squint) and maybe… maybe some father issues as well. I’m not discussing this with my therapist.

Word count: 1,2K

A/N: Listen. There isn’t an actual “sneaking out” because technically it isn’t. But it’s the most similar thing it could be, and honestly I like how it ended up.

Gif not mine.

“There was only one rule you had to follow”, started Tony Stark, in front of fucking everyone. The whole team was in there, and you wanted to bury your face in your arms, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t because if there was one thing you’d never lose, it was your dignity. So, you sat right, with your eyes directly on your father’s as he kept going on how bad it was what you had just done. “Just one rule about dating. What have I told you?”.

“Don’t get in trouble”, you repeated, the phrase already memorized. “You know, I don’t see what the big deal is about. I never got in trouble, and I’m not a little kid anymore, you can’t actually control my dating life”.

“As long as you live under my roof, you can’t date criminals. No, wait. As long as you’re an Avenger, for moral stuff, you can’t date criminals”.

“Firstly, he’s not a criminal. Secondly, I only live with you because I’m an Avenger. Thirdly, we’re not dating”.

“Are we not?”, inquired Loki from the doorframe. You shot a panicked look over him, and calmed yourself down as you saw his teaseful smirk showing across his face.

“Can we talk alone?”, you asked, and Tony and you walked out of the room to talk in the corridor. “I just… I just want you to support me, dad. That’s all I ever wanted”, you said, lowering your voice and head, knowing all of your confidence had faded away as soon as he looked at you with that disappointed look he’s always looked at you with.

“I can support you in many things, dear. I really do. I love your work in the science projects you’re doing… and your new friends are great, and I know how hard it is for you to socialize”, you sighed, and looked at him knowingly, because if your relationship could be described in a phrase, it definitely was “not the point I’m trying to make”.

“But?”.

“But how can I support you when you’re making a huge mistake?”.

You sighed in frustration and wiped a tear away.

“If you think being around him is a mistake then why did you even let him in the team to begin with? Why didn’t you just refuse Thor's demand of keeping him here? You know me, you knew I’d get attached”.

“So, you’re admitting you’re dating?”.

“Yes, we are something. Maybe not dating. I don’t know what we are”.

“Oh, what a great way to tell me you’re fucking. Great, nice. I love to hear that my little…”.

“No, not your ‘little-something’, dad. I’m an adult now. So take it or leave it. This is what’s happening, and whether you like it or not, Loki is actually really nice to me. He’s a gentleman, he treats me right, he’s all the Prince Charming you’d think an actual prince is”.

“Just… do me a favor and don’t lie for him, would you? He’s got that much already on him”.

“I’m not lying”, you looked at him defiantly, yet with that tenderness he always saw in you, even as a little kid.

Tony sighed, knowing you were honest.

“Please, don’t let him take your goodness away”.

That same night you couldn’t sleep. You rolled around in your bedsheets, grasping to them for your dearest dreams, but anxiety won, once again. You thought of your studies, your homework, your grades. You thought of your father and your dating life. You thought of Loki. You thought of him way too often. You knew —you were sure— you had fallen irremediably in love with him.

Who wouldn’t? He truly was prince charming.

Speaking of which, you heard a soft knocking at your window. You got up from bed and covered yourself up with a blanket, walking to see who was calling you at such late hours of the night.

The moonrays shone brightly and they were the only way you could see around; otherwise, it would be only darkness. Nights were better now, and Loki was in there, waving hello with that big smile of his, looking up at you as if he were Romeo. He truly was.

You smiled back and opened your window, looking around for any sign of your parents or Jarvis’s cameras being a bitch, and when there wasn’t any, you finally rested your elbows on your window frame and gave him the dreamy eyes he loved to be stared at with.

“My little love?”, he called in a whisper, yet you could still hear it.

“Dear”, you called him back. “Why are you awake?”.

“I can’t sleep without you”, he said, and you smiled involuntarily. Maybe your feelings weren’t so out of place after all. Maybe he felt the same way, and the only thing in your way was your dad and his prejudices.

“Really?”, you laughed softly, and he laughed too.

“Why are you awake, pray tell?”.

“Thoughts”.

“Of what?”.

“Of who, you may say”, you said, and he raised his eyebrows, wondering. “Of you, of course. And of my school books, that’s for sure”.

“Love and anxiety, all in one big package”, he said, and you rested your head over the heels of your hand. Did you just admit your love for him? And did he take it well? “I think it’s only fair for me to invite you to the library. The one from the compound is open at any time, right?”.

“Is this a study date at 4am?”.

“Darling, your idea of romanticism is so nerdy”, he laughed. “But if you may call it a date, then I’ll bring the candles”, he added, appearing a rose in his hand. “Shall I quote Shakespeare, too? Or is it enough for…?”.

“Well, no need to mock me, now”, you chuckled, while reaching for your clothes. “Meet you there?”.

“I’ll be there in a second, quite literally”, he said right before vanishing under a veil of green lights.

The night was spent with chattery over homework, with fun illusions he made in his hands, playing games and kissing —a lot. The night was spent so much, tiredness finally fell over you two, and before you could even realize, the sun had bathed both of your sleepy figures bent over the table, head resting over your arms. Loki was right in front of you and his legs intertwined with yours under the table. Books spread everywhere, you even used some as pillows. Not even once, you realized someone could walk in the library and let everyone know where you were last night.

And, as said, Tony and Pepper walked nonchalantly into the study area of the library, only to find you two sleeping over a pile of undone homework. You still had the rose behind your ear and a smile you wouldn’t be able to wipe off even awake. Pepper smiled and looked at Tony, who was staring in realization.

“They seem… good together”.

“You could even say happy? Good for each other?”, hinted Pepper, fighting back a giggle.

“Maybe… maybe they were right after all. I could give the guy a chance”, he nodded, rolling his eyes. “Now, let’s get those papers and close the curtains, they seem like they just fell asleep”.

(Taglist: @lucywrites02 , @louieboo87 @the-departed-potato , @jesuswasnotawhiteman , @idontknow296 , @beksib , @spythoschei , @geekwritersworld , @whatafuckingdumbass , @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 , @joscelyn02 , @t00-pi , @selfship-mishaps , @sallymagnoliaposts , @deadgirl88 , @theonewiththenerds , @vicmc624 , @spiderlaufeyson @theaudacitytowrite )

[officerjennie]

For the hug prompts: #36 for Jaskel? (or pairing of your choice)

of buttercups and daisies

CW: Soft tummies (mentioned anyway)

Summary: Jaskier has a rather silly dream and Eskel thinks he's adorable.

Tag list: very bottom (shoot me an ask if you want on it!)

Thanks for the prompt! I was in a light hearted mood when I wrote this so it ended up rather silly despite the prompt xD

The bed dipped under Eskel’s weight as he climbed in several hours after his bard. His armor had been placed down with care as to not wake him, weapons following suit, and the night began to melt away as he scooted closer. The moon was high and bright, far too bright to usually catch much sleep, but Eskel had every intention of burying his face into the crook of Jaskier’s neck to shield himself from the rest of the world. He had a way of that, making it all quiet despite his chattery nature, and it was one of the many things that drew Eskel to him like towards a flame in the dead of winter.

Despite his best efforts to not wake him, Jaskier jolted when Eskel’s arm snaked around him and tugged him closer. Eskel started in turn, lips already parting on a soft apology, but before he could get so much as a word out Jaskier had turned and wrapped all four of his long limbs around him. He’d done it with enough force to push Eskel over onto his back, the witcher left blinking up at the ceiling while Jaskier whined pitifully in his arms, squeezing him as tight as his delicate looking form could manage.

Which was, in all honesty, quite tight. Jaskier might look small next to Eskel’s bulk but he was no weakling. Eskel’s face scrunched up but he simply held Jaskier back, wrapping him up and squeezing him with not nearly all of his might. As he ran his hand up Jaskier’s back he drew another soft noise out of him, one that sleep still clung to, and Eskel chuckled as he pressed his lips to the top of Jaskier’s fussed up hair.

“Alright there, love?” Eskel didn’t expect much of an answer but he also didn’t expect Jaskier to squid him even tighter. Jaskier pressed himself as far into Eskel’s soft chest as he could, and when he did answer it was almost lost in-between Eskel’s tits.

Thankfully, Eskel had better hearing than most, and he just managed to make out the absolute incoherent babble that Jaskier had slurred out around a yawn. It took a few seconds to process enough to even laugh about, though when he did it jostled Jaskier enough to make him whine even further, drawn a little more out of his sleep and pressing as far into Eskel as he could manage.

“You thought what had gotten me?” Eskel teased him softly, brushing some of that sleep mussed hair out of his beloved bard’s face, managing to catch a glimpse of that scrunched up, adorable face before it was turning back to press so firmly into his chest he left an indention in the soft layer of fat there.

“Daisies.”

Eskel actually snorted that time as Jaskier hooked his leg around Eskel’s, entangling them so firmly that Eskel knew it would be a struggle to get out of bed in the morning. Not that he really minded. The night was for his hunts; mornings and days were for his love.

“Not sure I see the danger in a bunch of flowers, Jaskier,” he drawled, not ready yet to take pity on him and let him sleep. But he soothed his hands over his back as Jaskier made another soft noise, pressing more kisses to the top of his head.

“Got you,” Jaskier slurred out, his words slowing even further as he sank into the warmth of his witcher. “Took you away. What if they took you for good?”

Eskel hummed, laying his head back and closing his eyes, shutting out the rest of the world and only listening to the steady beating of Jaskier’s heart and the slowing rhythm of his breaths.

“I’ve no need to fear any daisies, love.” Eskel sighed, taking a moment to tug the blanket up over them to keep his bard warm. And though he could tell Jaskier had slipped back off to his dreams he still added, with a caress to his love’s cheek, “My buttercup will keep me safe.”

And he had no doubts that his buttercup would keep him.

-

@fontegagrilledcheese

[wrctings]

just some (slightly angsty) eruri fluff for you all because i miss them 🥰

“And so when I snapped my fingers right beside him, I got his attention. Actually got it! I’ve never had a titan stare at me like this, so intensely,” Hanji’s eyes sparkled, aglow with both irrepressible enthusiasm and the warm reflection from the room’s candle light, her fingers eagerly curled around the handle of a cup. “If only you’d seen it... I think he may have finally recognised me, given all the time we spent together... But we have to wait and see. And there’s also that plant we brought back from the last expedition! It’s growing! We put it in a more humid zone, like where we found it, and it’s actually growing.”

Levi had always known Hanji was a little excessive. Well, really excessive for the most part - especially when she’d get into one of her endless tirades about titans, marvelling over their monstrous abilities and curious shape and reflexes and whatnot... Sometimes, it drove Levi up to the wall to watch their scientist go into raptures over the senseless beasts that had crushed or torn apart so many of their fallen comrades. Though, to be fair, he could hardly blame Hanji - she was with them, after all; among the first ranks during expeditions, flanked by the officers’ side. That titan-loving thing was just a quirk of hers, just like Levi’s own cleaning thing, which he suspected many of their subordinates looked upon as a curious and slightly frightening obsession.

So, more often than not, Levi patiently kept his mouth shut, listening to Hanji’s passionate rants and picking out the useful information only, letting the rest slide into oblivion. But tonight, Levi’s usual self-control act had been getting pushed toward its limit, a disgruntled frown hidden behind his cup of tea. And the reason? Always the same golden-haired bastard.

White sleeves rolled up to the elbows, torso leaning over the wooden table, his blue eyes bright and animated by the same radiant shimmer of curiosity as in Hanji’s gaze, Erwin was hanging onto his friend’s every word.

“So, if some plants can only survive in a special kind of climate, the outside world must be...”

“Full of plants yet unknown to us! And of landscapes we can’t even imagine! And if that plant we brought back can only thrive in a wet kind of environment...”

“...Maybe there’s a large pool of water somewhere further away, beyond the limit we stopped at last time!”

Levi cursed Hanji from the bottom of his heart. Erwin’s entire attention seemed to be focused on the subject, blind to the rest of the room.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, we’re not quite sure of anything yet,” Moblit put his hands up with a sheepish smile, cooling off some of Hanji’s building elation. “First, let’s see how our titan and our plants fare in the upcoming weeks...”

“Our titan and our plants!” Hanji happily cried out, squeezing Moblit’s hand, cheeks burning red from excitement.

“Even if it’s only guesses, the captive titans and those plants can still provide precious information. It takes us one step closer to knowing the truth of the world,” Erwin’s hopeful and determined gaze met Hanji’s, both bound by a mutual fervour.

Levi silently watched them from the side, scowling. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t give a lesser shit about all of this - he wanted to rid the world of titans, to keep tightening until the last monster fell under their blades. Not bustle about captured titans in wonderment or waste time growing plants... In that moment, he resent their joy; joy sprung from the bloody cadavres of their comrades. Was this what they dedicated their heart for? Part of Levi knew perfectly well that, of course, all Hanji and Erwin gushed over was important to some degree. But he couldn’t quite share in their foolishness.

“Well, here’s to another step then,” Moblit raised his glass, smiling fondly when he caught a glimpse of the earnest exhilaration radiating off Hanji’s face. She did more often than not put him through the mill, but that’s also why he liked her, wasn’t it?

The other two officers followed Moblit’s lead, lifting their glasses up into the air, but before clinking them together Erwin shot a lighthearted look at Levi, raising his eyebrows as if asking the Captain to join in. With a muffled sigh, Levi shook his head reluctantly.

“Teacups aren’t meant for your drunken shit.”

He got away with a small movement of the hand, slowly shooting it upward in a way that made it seem he took part in the toast.

Erwin, Hanji, and Moblit drank on cordially, indulging in one of the rare merry celebrations they’d allow themselves to enjoy - the last expedition had been a success after all, with no casualties and only two superficially hurt soldiers! Such victories did truly raise the troops’ morale, so, in addition to the dinner feast everybody got to delight in, Erwin wanted to also congratulate the officers who had been working had on the expedition. Hence the wine. 

Only when the crepuscular haze of the night sky hovered over the barracks did the party begin to retire, tired grins and slightly dizzy heads wishing each other goodnight with remains of gaiety seeping through their lips; such a carefree, congenial time would probably be long to come again, so they had drunk from the brimming glass of furtive bliss until the very last honeyed drop dried out on their tongue. Waving Erwin and Levi goodnight, Hanji - held up by Moblit, bless his soul - stumbled around the corner of the corridor leading to her quarters, relying on the loyal shoulder that would help her get to her room safe and sound and not accidentally crash someplace else and carelessly pass out for the night. 

Much like Moblit, Levi had taken up the habit of bringing Erwin to his room after another day of exhausting work or a festive evening, watching the commander’s ever steady pace out of the corner of his attentive eye and listening to him jabber about whatever occupied his mind on that day, barely responding himself, but always paying silent attention to Erwin’s words. Although he didn’t admit it to his own self at first - he liked it. Liked having Erwin stroll beside him, his deep and slightly fatigued voice untangling the knots in Levi’s own head, keeping everything at bay but an inexplicable wave of... comfort. And, soon enough, the comfort had even turned into something more. 

“Did you enjoy the night, Levi?” Erwin inquired in his usual late-night chattery fashion, fingers already working the top buttons of his white shirt as the commander’s quarters arose in their field of vision.

The only answer he got out of Levi was a grunt, the short Captain pushing the door before them open. It slammed against the wall a little too harshly.

“Something on your mind?” Erwin persevered, trying to read the other man’s crossed features. 

“Alright.” Levi ended up conceding, a resigned sigh escaping the vexed line of his mouth. “Erwin, I can’t seem to give the slightest crap about those shitty plants.”

“Ah, Hanji may convince you they’re—” Erwin started again, smiling at what he thought was just a heedless comment of Levi’s, but the way he was interrupted soon let him guess otherwise.

“No, you don’t understand. I don’t get excited like you brats. I just... Don’t. I can’t bring myself to care about shitty glasses’ experiments. Or even... That stuff you talked about,” Levi waved his hand vaguely, hoping it was allusive enough.

A thoughtful moment’s silence passed, Erwin considering what Levi had just admitted - he began to recall now how retiring Levi had indeed seemed during tonight’s celebration, quietly grumbling by himself and even cutting short on the playful insults he would usually hand out.

“I’m sorry that you didn’t have fun tonight, Levi.”

“Feel sorry for yourself. You’re the one stuck with a killjoy of a brat,” Levi attempted a sarcastic smile, but it came out distorted by a hint of sad resignation. Ever since he and Erwin had... this - whatever it was called - Levi didn’t hold back as much as he used to anymore; something about Erwin’s kind understanding, no matter the slander ghosts clouding the Captain’s mind, put him at ease. So Levi spoke his mind.

“Sorry?”

Erwin’s reassuring arms twined around Levi’s torso, the commander’s head settling on top of his - the height difference, Levi had to admit, was convenient -, and he planted a long kiss on top of his head; the first real one of the day, after the hasty pecks he had stolen from Levi in between tasks. For Levi, those intimate hours were dreams he’d never wish to wake up from. “Why should I feel sorry, when I can’t believe my luck?”

“I’m not exactly the funniest person you can find, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“And so what? I, for one thing, think you are funny. Your dark humour may take some getting used to at first, but afterwards, you crack me up, my dear,” Erwin mused, littering Levi’s neck with sloppy kisses. “I love you.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Erwin.”

However, Levi’s heavy heart did feel lighter already; to feel Erwin’s lips on his skin, his warm hands fiddling with Levi’s uniform to help him take it off, his precious words whispered against his ear - for Levi, and Levi only, to hear and treasure and greedily take for himself - soothes the Captain’s unexpected rush of self-depreciation. But seeing how happy Erwin had looked while talking to Hanji and Moblit had left a painful imprint Levi struggled to erase from his memory. What if... what if he’d never make Erwin this happy?

“Levi, I don’t care that you don’t get excited over shitty plants. You and I can care about different things and still care about each other too, yeah?” Levi felt the nuzzle in his neck send shivers down his spine, another one of Erwin’s kisses mending the cracks in his heart one by one. “I know you press my shirts whenever they get too creased. You bring coffee and food to my office when I’m working too much. You take Hanji’s laundry into her room when she forgets it. You help the recruits who fall behind in training...” Erwin kept on talking, going around Levi to face him in the candlelit room, until his nose gently bumped against his, and their lips met in what Levi could only describe as solace. “The list goes on and on. These are all the things you care about. And I love you for it.”

“...It seems your sappy stuff still gets me. You shitty, sentimental brat,” Levi drowned a teary chuckle in Erwin’s chest, clutching the fabric of the commander’s uniform in his fist. Then, he retired in his cat-like fashion, starting to ondo the buttons Erwin had started to work on. “I had no idea you were fucking spying on me the entire time.”

“Your fault.” Erwin followed Levi’s lead, getting rid of his own uniform before he slipped into bed, a tired look softening his features, and loose strands of hair falling out of place upon his forehead.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Levi joined him, huddling beneath the clean and cosy bedsheets, and brushed the hair away from Erwin’s face, savouring its end-of-the-day softness between his fingers.

“It’s your fault for having such a beautiful soul.”

“A beautiful soul?” Levi scoffed gently, pressing his shoulder against Erwin’s. “Never heard anything this stupid before.”

“It’s true. You may not believe me yet, but I’ll keep doing this” Erwin took Levi’s hand in his, kissing his calloused knuckles - “and this” -, then wrist - “and this”, then forearm, “and this, until you do.”

“I’m no sap like you, so it might take a while...,” Levi murmured in return, pressing a kiss into Erwin’s neck. A beautiful soul? Never before had Levi heard such words - and never before had his heart skipped a beat like it did when they struck him.

“It’s okay,” Erwin cuddled up to Levi, not suppressing a deep contented sigh when the other man’s nails gently raked his scalp, playing with his hair. “I won’t quit.”

[viaru]

apollo

ship:chungmi (sunmi x chungha)

type: story,greek au

parts:

1|

Chungha was a simple girl in a simple time with a simple life. She did what most mortals do and serve the gods by giving them gifts in exchange for other greater gifts from the gods.

Yet chungha didn't ask all the gods for anything,only the primary.

The only gods or goddess she offered her trade for the own was the crop,flower,and nature maidens. She also gave her graces to apollo,her god. She was very thankful to them,chungha was always a good girl doing what was tradition to keep the tops pleased as she lived on.

It was simple as it was,she was a mer mortal with innocence,a beauty at that. Naive yet she knew what was right and wrong,though her beauty was everything blessed by Aphrodite making many men in her small village swoon for her.

Though she was protected by Artemis,she pledge to the other goddess as well. Though even zeus tried to seduce the young chungha though she knew better.

Night after day the young beautiful chungha was out attending her garden where the garden and terrain creatures where free to take or help her garden,they trusted chungha so very much and let their world become a part of chungha's.

While attending her tulips,she heard a few sun flower faires giggle soon her hazel eyes looked at the fairies with a brow raised

"What are you girls giggling about?"

Lia froze seeing the human before her,yeji looked at chungha all giddy while chaeryoung,yuna,and ryujin looked over at eachother all snickery

"The sun shines brighter today!" Yeji spoke out. Lia snapped out of it as her tiny body  circled around chungha "yess yes!! It's a brighter day! Though today is a very special day!!" Chungha couldn't help but be curious.

Her gardens flowers looked bright and healthier than usual,the creatures and nymphs seemed all chattery and excited. Chungha looked back at the sunflower fairies "what is planned for today?" She asked

Yuna being the bubbly and biggest fairy of them flew up to chungha holding her cheeks within her tiny  fairy hands "oh chungha unnie!! Apollo found love! The sun is in love!!"

The young beauty raised a brow as a familiar soft smile spread across her lips "Aphrodite has struck again I see?" She teased as she was tending her garden

"The sun feels warmer today,i don't doubt that apollo has.. Though with whom? Maybe with a daughter or son of a god or nymph?" Chungha hummed pausing in her small little rant "a mortal? Itzy's,do you know who claimed apollo's heart?" She turned her attention back to the fairies as ryujin smirked showing off her whiskers "we shall wait and see chungha unnie."

Aish such a mystery for chungha.

"Ah ryujin snickery and troublesome as always leaving a mystery." She tsked shaking her head. Although,she wouldn't mind being strucked by Aphrodite's (idk who to put here) love arrows. Then again she was protected by luna. Or Artemis (fill it in ig) for being a young virgin.. Perhaps zeus (idk who to put here.) Hasn't noticed the young beautiful chungha just yet.

Chungha would admit she does get lonely and needs to find a lover of her own at some point. But whom would capture her own heart? She wasn't interested in the men in seoul because to them.. She was simply a prize to them. A trophy to show off

A fine piece of ass to them.

While in her thoughts she didn't seem to notice the chatter has died down in her garden. Looking up from the sunflowers she turned to look at the creatures within her garden only to catch them wide mouth agape as their eyes twinkled.

Furrowing her brows she followed their gazes only to see hermés (jihyo) standing by the one and only apollo.

What chungha didn't know that apollo..

Wasn't a god. But a goddess.

It was dead silent until yuna of the youngest of itzy spoke of

"It's apollo! Goddess of the sun sunmi!!"

[hey-hamlet]

cold hands and warm hearts (he cares, i promise you)

From his cocoon of blankets, Izuku sent a pitiful glare at his heater. His stubbornly broken heater. Its little red light blinked at him mockingly.

He hadn’t realised his heater wasn’t working until the nights had started to cool off. No matter how many times he pressed the button on the innocent-looking little box it simply refused to spit out so much as a warm breeze. He allowed himself one more moment of self-pity before he curled into a tight little ball and screwed his eyes shut. “Faster I get to sleep, faster I warm up.” He whispered to himself, nose twitching at the warmth of his breath.

---

Building a dorm so rapidly is bound to cause problems. Bad luck it happens to the three too stubborn to say anything about it.

Also on AO3! Fic under the cut.

From his cocoon of blankets, Izuku sent a pitiful glare at his heater. His stubbornly broken heater. Its little red light blinked at him mockingly.

He hadn’t realised his heater wasn’t working until the nights had started to cool off. No matter how many times he pressed the button on the innocent-looking little box it simply refused to spit out so much as a warm breeze. At first, it wasn’t so bad, he could just pull on more blankets. But now he could see his breath in the air, the tip of his nose stinging with cold. He supposed it wasn’t too much worse than the winter his mother and he had no heating, but at least then they’d had piles of hot water bottles to keep them warm. And she’d found money to fix it before it got too bitterly cold, even if they had to be a little stricter with their food budget than usual.

He was broken out of his reverie with a violent and involuntary shiver. He allowed himself one more moment of self-pity before he curled into a tight little ball and screwed his eyes shut. “Faster I get to sleep, faster I warm up.” He whispered to himself, nose twitching at the warmth of his breath.

He awoke just as cold as he’d fallen asleep. Scratch that, he was colder – a night of laying still having sapped the warmth from his muscles. Pushing down the deep need to just curl up tighter and pray he warmed up, he stretched out an arm to grab his phone. His fingers were so stiff and cold it took a solid minute of fumbling just to pick it up.

His second problem was that the glass screen was freezing. So cold that his breath was fogging up the screen. And his hands were so cold the phones touch screen was struggling to pick anything up. Two frustrated sighs later, he unlocked his phone.

4:15 am. On a Sunday. He fought the urge to let out an inarticulate scream of frustration and instead buried his face in his pillow, absently hoping it might suffocate him. He had no such luck.

He sure wasn’t getting anything done like this, and there was no way he’d catch any more sleep in a room this cold. He took a deep breath and levered himself out of bed, uncovered toes numb against the carpet. Chanting a quiet “suck it up, suck it up” to himself, he piled his towel, warmest clothes and soap into his arms and all but ran down to the showers.

The tiles stung his feet so he hoped awkwardly from foot to foot as he waited for the water to heat up. Thankfully for his fraying nerves, it didn’t take too long. Shucking off his clothes, he all but dived under the nearly scalding water, irritation soothing rapidly as the water warmed his skin. The contrast of burning skin but cold muscle underneath was an interesting one admittedly, but not an enjoyable one.

Izuku jumped about a foot in the air when he heard the sound of the bathroom door opening. “H-hello? Apologies, I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be awake so early.” An unmistakable voice chattered.

“Iida?” Izuku questioned, voice only just audible above the water.

“A – ah!” Iida responded, still sounding like he was seconds away from bitting off the tip of his tongue with chattering teeth. “Mid- Midoriya! I was just trying to warm up, I –“ he trailed off a little sheepishly, sounds of him getting ready for his own shower filling the empty space. “My heater isn’t exactly, well, functioning.” The water turned on and Izuku had to try a little harder to hear his friend. “I suppose it should really be able to handle it, as a hero in training, but-“

“It’s so cold!” Izuku exclaimed. Iida laughed. He sounded a little less chattery.

“I take it your room wasn’t particularly warm either?”

“I wish, it was freezing,” He whined softly, trying to keep the warm water out of his hair. It was delightful now but would be considerably less so when it cooled down. “My heater isn’t working either.” Iida hummed in agreement. They finished their showers in comfortable silence, Izuku waiting an extra minute in the now warm bathrooms for Iida to finish.

Hesitantly, Izuku pushed against the now damp door. Immediately, a blast of cold air hit him in the face, stinging his eyes. He scrambled behind Iida, pushing the other boy out the door first. He let out a few spluttered complaints but allowed the smaller boy to use him as a warm shield, pushing him towards the kitchen. From his position behind his unwilling shield, he didn’t see the figure already in the kitchen. But he could hear her cursing.

“Uraraka?” Iida asked cautiously, as if he were approaching a particularly angry cat. Izuku peaked his head out from around Iida’s ridiculously broad chest to see Uraraka glaring angrily at a slowly boiling kettle. She turned towards the voice, a glare still fixed on her face until she realised who the other two were.

“Iida? Midoriya? What are you doing up?” Her teeth were chattering, even underneath the layers of clothing that served to make her look like an overstuffed teddy bear.

“Too cold.” Iida and Izuku said at much the same time. Uraraka let out a sympathetic chuckle.

“Same, my heater is, and always has been, busted.”

“Me too,” Izuku whined, reluctant to move away from Iida and his radiating warmth but not feeling brave enough to hug him.

“My heater wasn’t functional either.” Iida trailed off thoughtfully, also opting to huddle beside his friend. Izuku’s face twisted as Uraraka began to fix hot drinks for the three of them.

“You don’t think – you don’t think this was a logical ruse? Do you?” They all shuddered.

Choosing not to think about that for the moment, they shuffled over to the couch, drinks in hand. Izuku all but stick his nose into his coffee to take in the warm steam it let off. Uraraka huddled onto the couch, pulling the two boys with her. Ignoring any possible personal space they may have wanted, she draped the ugly but delightfully soft bootleg All Might blanket around the three of them, pulling them all in close. The warmth of each other and the drinks, coupled with the ungodly time in the morning, made the three of them drowsy as they sipped from mismatched cups. Izuku would later blame that drowsy state for the embarrassingly high pitched squeak he made when he heard the front door opening.

In a reflex borne out of a really rough year for their class, the three of them all slipped off the couch and into combat stances, squinting through the darkness to see the figure in the doorframe. Izuku let his quirk flicker ominously.

“Kids? What the fu-  the hell are you doing up? It’s not even five am yet.” Uraraka let out a relieved sigh at the gravelly voice of their teacher, and the three of them relaxed where they stood. She promptly plonked herself back down on the couch as did Iida. His need to be polite to their teacher was seemingly outweighed by his need to feel his fingers.

“Sensei?” Izuku questioned as his teacher cast off his capture weapon. “What are you doing awake?” Aizawa sent him the driest look Izuku thought he’d even seen.

“My patrol just finished. Why in gods name are the three of you up?” None of the said anything beyond awkward mumbles. Aizawa eyebrow inched higher. Still nothing.

“Iida.” He growled, apparently choosing the boy as the weakest secret-keeping link.

“Our heaters are broken, Sensei.” He blurted out. Aizawa had apparently chosen wisely.

“It’s ok though!” Izuku interjected nervously, emotional state a little too fragile in the early morning for his teacher to tell him how little he cared. “It’s not that bad, really!” He was fully aware the beds of his nails were blue.

“Yeah!” Uraraka jumped in, looking just as pinched as Izuku, “We’re tough! It’ll be fine!” Iida just squirmed under Aizawa’s glare. He just sighed, settling himself on the couch across from them.

“Why didn’t you want me to know they weren’t working? Did the three of you manage to break them or something?” A chorus of indignant ‘No!’s followed. Aizawa raised an eyebrow. “Then?”

Uraraka broke first. “Idon’thavethemoneytofixit,” she blurted out in one breath, face flushing even pinker in the cold.

“Pardon?”

“I, well my parents,” she shrunk down in her seat, Iida and Izuku almost reflexively pressing in closer to her to offer support, “We don’t really have the money to pay for repairs for something like a heater.” Aizawa just nodded, turning to fix his gaze on Iida. The boy sighed.

“Well, I didn’t want to – I didn’t want to cause trouble for something so minor.” It was Uraraka’s turn to lean into Iida this time, the poor boy looking like a kicked puppy. Aizawa sighed, turning to face Izuku last. Izuku sunk into his seat, face burning slightly in shame.

“Didn’t think you’d care, Sensei.” If Izuku had been looking Aizawa in the eyes, he might have seen the flash of something like pain, or guilt. But, from where his eyes were fixed on the floor, he only saw the edges of his own building tears. “It’s – it’s not a big problem anyway. I can’t – I can’t pay to fix it either and – and I’m already – “ Uraraka drew him in closer. He tried to will back his tears, embarrassed about crying over something so minor. “I didn’t want to be a problem child.” He all but whispers.

Aizawa lets out a heavy sigh. The three students huddle together, eyes downcast in embarrassment. Iida shifts, as if to apologise again, but anything any of them could have said was cut off as their teacher wrapped them in a strong hug. Izuku jerked back instinctively before shyly returning the hug. Aizawa lingered for a moment before pulling back, coughing to hid his own embarrassment. It did nothing to hide the pink tinge to his cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” The statement was unexpected from their teacher Izuku and Iida opened their mouths to protest almost instantly. Aizawa held up a hand to quiet them down. “No, listen. I’m sorry I’ve made you feel like you can’t come to me for things like this. UA built these dorms so quickly we were fully expecting problems to arise. You shouldn’t have to suffer for the shortcuts someone else took.” The three of them nodded, Izuku stubbornly trying to wipe his weeping eyes. Aizawa smiled, a much softer smile than the three of them were used to seeing. “I’ll find you three some more blankets and you can get another hour or two of sleep down here while I make some calls. Sound fair?” Izuku smiled softly, Iida nodded an affirmative and Uraraka sent their teacher a mock salute. He chuckled quietly, before padding off to find something warm.

Shouta returned ten or so minutes later to see his kids curled into each other, sleeping peacefully. He carefully pried the near-empty cup of green tea from Iida’s grip, pulled the blanket back over Midoriya’s arm from where it had slipped down, and brushed a stray hair from the corner of Uraraka’s slightly open mouth.

Gently piling the blankets he’d gathered around them, he wandered off to his rooms to make some angry phone calls. He wasn’t going to let his kids suffer needlessly on his watch.

[josiepalmerphotography]

Lately my muse has been focusing the camera on flowers with very ethereal, blurred backgrounds featuring my beautiful Trisha. Oh, how I have bonded with her since we left the city! Even with everything that has happened, every second of this trip has been well and truly worth it.

Aside from all gushing thoughts I am usually all too pleased to share, it stopped raining today! This has been one of the only clear days all week and it was heavenly! The sun is finally setting now and I’m having a warm cup of tea. I don’t know where Trish wandered off too but I’m sure she’ll come back soon. She can always hear the kettle boiling a mile away.

Today has been peaceful, boring even. We sat together by the water for a long time. Trish was quiet, even more so than usual, humming a strange tune and scribbling in her notebook. I rested on a blanket a few feet away, reading and enjoying the feeling of the warm sun across my face. I’ve always believed that one of the telltale signs of true love is when you can enjoy shared silence as much as each other’s chattery company. I talk about myself and my own passions a lot but since I have recieved so many questions about Trish in the past few days, I’ve decided to talk about her a little bit more so for those of you that don’t want to hear me gush, now is probably the time to stop reading.

The two of us met on campus, she was studying anthropology at the time but what really caught my eye was her little accent. It was so very faint and quirky, but something about it drew me in to her. Trish would put on these performance art style plays with some of her friends and watching her was mesmerizing. She’s a very reserved individual but watching her on the stage you would have thought she was a goddess. Our first talks were very short, she was an eccentric and I was always very grounded. I’m convinced that Trisha has more creativity in one toe than I do in my entire body. When I first heard her music, heard her play, it was like staring into a world I never knew existed. She always joked about how she was “from another plane” because she didn’t grow up in the US but listening to her sing, the phrase felt so literal. For someone a year younger than me, her eloquence made it seem like she was from a time long past. Classiness like that is so rare these days. From the moment that we started dating, we were inseperable. When she left that one semester after.....everything happened, it was like my heart had stopped beating. Deep down I knew it probably couldn’t have lasted forever. People like Trish never do well in this world; such an ugly place isn’t meant for those with keen perception. There was nothing I could do but accept it and hope that wherever she was and whatever she was doing, she was thriving among people that understood her. Her happiness was more important than our relationship. I know it sounds like the kind of shit everyone says when they love their partner but someone like her, well, they were meant to go much further than OSU. Trisha could master anything she attempted in little more than a few days. Maybe I was too average for her, too boring. It had always been one of my biggest fears despite how much she reassured me otherwise.

She showed up at my apartment a few months later. Even though she looked the way she always had, the look in her eyes was different. Wherever she was, it was very obvious that not all of her came back intact, I’ve never held someone so tight. Trisha tried to explain to me what had happened but the metaphors she used were so abstract and broken that I couldn’t piece together much solid information. I never asked her to elaborate. I loved her and she needed me, and that was all I had to know. And this is why I left, why I packed my bags in the middle of the night and ran off to a country I had never been to. She couldn’t be part of my world but maybe I could be part of hers.

If you gain anything from this block of text, I hope it will be the fact that when you find something special you have to hold onto it. Trust your gut, for it already knows your destiny. Writing all of that out was therapeutic. It’s helped me to remember all of the reasons why we’re here. I hope that you all enjoyed reading this even half as much as I did writing it!

[polar-stars]

The Overlooked Princess

[Hey, I was able to finish the little fic I was talking about! :D So here it is, a smol, little Next-Gen Ship AU story //throws confetti//

So this is one of my millions of Royalty AUs, one in which pretty much every named character is Royalty. It’s also about ShigeChi (but a bit more about Chieko in general). It’s also a rewritten version of this little snippet here -> https://polar-stars.tumblr.com/post/182306453441/but-just-in-case-you-meant-your-next-gen-alone

It basically has a little more exposition now and Shigeo and Chieko also actually talk a bit more in this one. 

I began this little one-shot a few days ago at a time where I was just really sad for no reason?? Like I just woke up and was like: “Everything sucks”, so this fic was basically me cheering myself up (even tho I couldn’t finish it on that day)

I thought this would be another work for the famous: “Lea’s-Self-Indulgent-Nonsense-Folder”, but seeing as ShigeChi seems to have quite the surprising popularity, it may not even be as self-indulgent as I initially thought .... O.O

Anyways with all my chattery out of the way, here it is:]

Today was the night that everyone awaited throughout the entire remaining year. The night of the Grand Royal Ball. Hosted by the Emperor and Empress of the grand Empire Divina this yearly ball was meant to be the one night where all the royal houses of the many different countries around Divina met in peace. It was without a doubt the highlight of the year and promised not only fun but also many opportunities for negotiations or possible alliances. It was only natural for a royal to look forward to it. Princess Chieko’s mother Queen Yuki Marui of Scientia always made a great fuss out of it as soon as the invitation arrived. Excitedly the woman would rush into each and every room of the palace loudly announcing the invitation’s arrival. Then she would already start thinking about which dresses to wear, which hairstyles would impress the other Royals the most and how much jewellery would be considered too much. Chieko’s father, King Zenji Marui of Scientia, mostly considered the ball a chance to get some negotiation done and when lucky having a talk with some of the other intellectuals. Although not as enthusiastic about it as his wife, it still always brought a smile on his face when watching her spin around the house in excitement. Chieko’s little brother, Prince Takahiro Marui of Scientia, always showed excitement for the ball and spent his time there with spending time with some of the other young royals, namely his best friend the stoic princess of Pacem, Kasumi Ibusaki. And Chieko? There was a time where she had been just as glad to go as the rest of her family. But with time passing her enthusiasm has faded with each year. She did not hate the ball. Not at all. It was still a joy to enter the beautiful, out-of-this-world palace of the Empire. The food served on this occasion was still beyond delicate. She still got to meet her friends from other countries. But at the same time Chieko felt how she got outshined by everyone on this ball. Usually she ended up spending the entire night on the sides, watching the many much more astonishing ball gowns spinning around on the dance floor to fully portray their beauty. Around her she heard many offers for a dance but not one of them directed to her. So many pairs showing sheer elegance in all their steps and twirls while she discussed politics with her bodyguard. Her country was not the richest or the strongest but it was still far from being considered poor or weak. Scientia was capable of being a good alliance. So it really must be her own plainness that lead to her loneliness on the ball. — The first dance of the evening always belonged to the Empress and the Emperor ob Divina, Alice and Ryo Nakiri. The second dance of the evening was reserved to the kings and queens of the other lands. It was always an impressive portrayal of elegance and refinement that the respective leaders of their land put up while everyone else watched. Although everyone in the room was in agreement that the King and Queen of Sol, Takumi and Ikumi Aldini were by far the most talented. Each and every year their performance was astonishing and enchanting to watch. “Your parents are so graceful, Mika!” Chieko gushed to one of her closest friends, Princess Mika Aldini of Sol. She was a truly stunning girl with radiating blonde hair that reminded one of the stars in the sky and sparkling eyes that had the colour of the ocean. Adding to that she had beautiful, full lips and tanned skin. She could wear anything and it would be gorgeous, was what Chieko thought. And she was not alone on that. King Takumi Aldini of Sol almost daily received offers for a marriage with his daughter and also now on the ball, the blonde princess had many eyes on her urging to ask for a dance as soon as the leaders of the land had finished theirs. This allowed Mika to be picky and so she turned a lot of offers down. She also rejected all the marriage proposals, waiting for her one true love to finally arrive. Often perceived as a heartbreaker by many devastated princes she was actually a true romantic still believing in the thought of true love. But only her closest friends got to know this. “Of course you’re just as talented in dancing.” Chieko added. Behind her three males gave an approving nod. Prince Daisuke Aoki of Timor, Prince Hideyoshi Kawashima of Superbia and Chieko’s best friend, Prince Yasu Ibusaki of Pacem. Instantly the Mika blushed at the compliment and retorted. “Tha...Thanks, Chieko. But I’m still not comparable to my parents.” Her cousin next to her, Prince Hiroshi Aldini-Tadokoro of Luna chuckled. “You’re down-talking yourself, my dear cousin.” Once again the group of males behind Chieko gave their approving nods, especially Yasu’s was rather fierce as Chieko nodded. “Seeing you dance reminds one of a swan.” Smiled Daisuke. Next to him Hideyoshi exclaimed. “The goody two-shoes next to me is right for once!” Almost on command Daisuke glared at the other one because of that statement. Meanwhile Yasu added. “There’s many guys who would love to dance with you, after all. It is truly an honour to get a dance with you.” Mika’s blush had only increased and she grunted. “Shut up.” Then she fiercely put her hands on her hips and declared. “Most princes however didn’t learn a thing about dance though!” A little theatrically, she sighed. “So many feet that already stepped on mine. It’s a horror! You’d think if they already have the nerve to ask for a dance with these smug grins, they’d know how to!” The whole group laughed at that. This was why the part where the kings and queens danced was always Chieko’s favorite. Not only were the respective highest-ranked royals all rather talented but it was also the time where all of her friends were still gathered together. But every dance had to end at some point. As the music of the orchestra started to fade, the adults slowed down as well. And just mere seconds after they were already parting. Each of the pairs moving into different directions. Chieko saw her parents approaching, accompanied by Yasu’s parents, Hideyoshi’s parents and Daisuke’s parents. Yuki was almost glowing of happiness and excitedly chatted with Queen Ryoko Ibusaki of Pacem while walking. Her husband King Shun Ibusaki of Pacem was just staring at Zenji in the meantime, making it seem like the two had a telepathic conversation going on. “And? How were we?” Yuki beamed once near enough for the princesses and princes to hear. “Splendid.” Daisuke responded. “Marvelous.” Hideyoshi added. They both turned expectingly to Yasu, who said after a little pause. “I can only agree.” “Absolutely.” Hiroshi smiled. Mika and Chieko gave their nods. Hideyoshi’s mother, Queen Urara Kawashima of Superbia, flipped her hair and declared. “But of course.” Her husband, King Shoji Kawashima of Superbia chuckled. Meanwhile Daisuke’s mother Queen Yua Aoki of Timor clinged to her husband while blushing because of the praise. “Thank you.” Ryoko chuckled in response. Yuki began to laugh. “Of course we all were nothing compared to Mika’s parents!” This statement seemed to irk Urara a little as she flinched. Mika only shook her head. “I wouldn’t put it like that, Queen Yuki, but I’ll be sure to tell them the praise regardless.” Before anyone could say anything more, the Empress who had returned to her throne clapped her hands together bringing the attention to her. “I want to thank my fellow Kings and Queens for their participation in our yearly opening dance. It was a pleasure.” She grinned. “And now with the formalities out of the way! It’s time to have fun~! Herewith, I officially declare the ball’s beginning! Let us all have a wonderful time as usual!” Some raised their glass to yell “Cheers”, the others applauded the Empress despite the fact that she could be a little informal time to time. After that, the chaos ensued. With the ball beginning, for most princes and princesses it was essential to start the evening off with a dance. And of course it had to be a dance with a good, suitable companion. Chieko notes how many eyes landed on the people surrounding her. Hiroshi noted that a great amount of males were staring at his mildly, annoyed cousin and so he quickly offered her a hand. “My dear cousin, how about we share the first dance of the evening?” Mika gave him a little surprised look but it quickly shifted into a thankful but also amused expression. “Sure, why not?” “Well.” Hideyoshi proudly announced. He also had many looks burning on him and knew it. “I’ll guess I search for a partner then as well.” His arrogant grin got a little wider. “Shouldn’t take long.” Next to him Daisuke huffed but decided to tag along in the end. Yasu watched Mika leave with Hiroshi. Chieko gently took his hand. “Maybe next time.” Yasu pressed his lips together and shook his head. “I...don’t know what you’re talking about...” Chieko could only chuckle at this. He might be an unreadable mystery to most but certainly not to her. She was just about to ask if maybe they should follow Hiroshi’s and Mika’s strategy and dance together. For her it was better than nothing, considering that she would certainly get a nice chat out of it and Yasu was a good dancer. However of course fate couldn’t even let her have this, as just as she was about to open her mouth, a girl approached them with flushed cheeks. Of course Yasu was too kind to say no. And as quickly as that, Chieko was alone. Her mother has decided to get in touch with the newest gossip and Ryoko, Urara and Yua had followed her. Her father had chatted with Shun, Daigo and Shoji for a bit before excusing himself and going off to negotiate. The other three soon disappeared as well. Daigo and Shoji aiming for the food that was served on the ball and Shun deciding to have a talk with King Satoshi Isshiki of Fons, the leader of the so-called “Polar Star Alliance” which her country and his were a part of. Chieko sighed. Just as she predicted it. She started to move a little backwards, considering that there was not much need for her to stand so close to the dance floor. She’d just reached the spot that she had desired then she already heard the whispers emerge. “Look it’s the Crown Princess of Scientia.” “All alone as it seems.” “Well, she does not look much like a princess doesn’t she?” “She’s not ugly but.........plain. An everyday-face.” “And a shylet as it seems? She doesn’t look like to have much bravery.” “Oh poor Scientia. She has to rule it someday.” “My father knows one of Scientia’s ministers. They’re all worried sick! For sure small, petite Princess Chieko Marui will not be able to compete with the other much more fierce leaders of the land...and seeing her here. I believe they’re right.” The girls standing a few meters away at least attempted to be as quiet in their talk as possible, Chieko gave them that. It was such a shame that it was not very effective. She bid her lips. Even her country’s ministers doubted her. She really was plain after all. — Time passed and not much changed for Chieko. Only Daisuke returned to her side, while Hideyoshi remained busy swirling around with everyone who wanted to. Mika fleed to the balcony rather soon, Hiroshi joined a talk with his mother and the King of Gloria, Kojiro Shinomiya. And Yasu remained cornered by many different princesses who he just couldn’t reject. However unbeknownst to Chieko, her evening was just about to become much more interesting than she would have ever imagined. “.....And that is why I find this theory on sovereignty much more interesting.” Chieko finally finished a long, long speech. She turned to Daisuke. “But what do you think?” The Brunette blankly stared at her with round eyes for a few seconds before giving his answer. “What I think? Chieko! I think about just how you manage to keep all of this data in your head! You truly are amazing when it comes to such things.” Chieko blushes slightly at the praise. “Thank you...But it really isn’t that amazing...” “It is!” Daisuke immediately corrected. “I mean.....Oh is that your father there?” Chieko noticed how Daisuke’s green eyes had went from being focused on her to something that was behind her. And so she turned around to spot that it was really her father approaching them. To her surprise she also noted that Zenji had become even more pale than he already was and that he looked...slightly stressed. Chieko frowned. What was that about? “Chieko!” He called out as he had finally reached the two. “What is it, father?” Chieko responded and tilted her head a little. “Are you alright? You’re very pale.” Zenji gave a hectic nod. “I am alright, but I....have to introduce you to somebody.” He didn’t sound calm at all. Chieko and Daisuke exchanged a look. “Who is it?” At this question the last little tints of skin color seemed to fade out of Zenji’s face. With a heavy voice he answered. “King Etsuya Eizan of Exitium.” It was the mere name of a kingdom but within a second, Daisuke was as pale as Zenji. “Ex....Exitium?” He screeched in an unbelieving voice. But who could blame him. Chieko’s pupils had also grown wider as she had heard that name. Exitium. A kingdom that was mainly known for it’s immense prosperity that truly only few could rival. But just as much as it was rich, it was also a heavy Military nation that could be a deadly opponent in any war. Going by the stories she heard about the Royal family so far, the king was a merciless man quick to anger while the queen was appearently a just-as intimidating woman capable of freezing people with only a simple glance. It was a fearsome, power-hungry kingdom that made many feel uneasy. Why would any of them want to have anything to do with her? With wide eyes she said. “What? But why...?” Zenji sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose. With an frustrated expression he explained. “He requested a dance for his second son, Prince Shigeo Eizan of Exitium.....With you.” Chieko’s eyes grew some more at this and for a little moment. This left her tongue-tied as it took her a bit to process the information she had just received. Someone...had requested a dance with her? And it was the King of Exitium of all places? And she was asked to dance with his son? As her tongue was finally capable of forming words again, the first one to leave her lips was: “What?” She heard Daisuke stammer behind her. “A....A da...dance with one of the three princes of Exitium?” Anther sigh escaped Zenji. “Exactly. I suppose he wants to get his second son, , as he is not the heir to the throne, a marriage to gain more power.” He pressed his lips together and admitted. “I don’t like the idea of introducing my daughter to one of the three princes of Exitium either...” Despite the fact that Chieko couldn’t deny that the thought of dancing with one of the three princes really had an eery feel to it, there was a part of her that was genuinely curious. Maybe Exitium was terrifying in many people’s eyes but it was without any doubt a powerful nation that had to gain it’s reputation somehow. And Chieko was sure that the members of the Royal family weren’t exactly stupid or people who based their decision-making on mere feelings and intuition. And so she answered. “I suppose, we shouldn’t let King Eizan wait too long then.” Daisuke turned to her, eyes full of shock. Zenji continued staring at his daughter for a little while more, before he sighed, nodded and said. “Alright. Let’s go.” 

And so they left,l the still flabbergasted Daisuke and got moving. Chieko did as she said and followed her father’s path through the lousy crowd. Soon daughter and father had reached their target, as Chieko spotted two persons her father was heading to. A man around her father’s age with blonde, slicked back hair and narrowed, sharp yellow eyes which were covered by rectangular glasses. He looked grim and impatient. Without a doubt, that must be the King of Exitium, Etsuya Eizan. On first glance Chieko could understand why he was usually described as intimidating. She didn’t even talk to him and yet she was already wishing for never saying something that could make the man angry. The male beside him was a lot younger, presumably a year older than Chieko. That must be Etsuya’s second son, Shigeo Eizan. The one she was possibly right in front of sharing a dance with. He had the same yellow eyes as his father and had also covered them with a pair of squared glasses. His hair however was green and only partly slicked back. The uniform he wore certainly looked expensive. It was black and Chieko caught herself thinking that the colour suited him well. The Prince disinterestedly looked elsewhere as if this affair didn’t concern him at all. Meanwhile his father spoke up and barked. “King Marui!” as soon as Zenji and Chieko we’re close enough. Zenji flinched a little at that but tried to keep his overall composure. “I see you’re finally back.” Etsuya continued. Without warning his eyes suddenly landed on Chieko. “...With your daughter.” Without any preparation for this attack, Chieko felt like she was being stabbed by those burning, piercing orbs. Quickly she bowed her head and made curtsey. “My name is Princess Chieko Marui of Scientia. It is my honour to meet you, Your Majesty.” “The pleasure is mine.” Etsuya replied, before shifting his attention back to Zenji. “King Marui, May I find out if there will be a dance or not?” He asked in an imperious tone, making the question sound a little bit more like a threat than a polite inquiry. Zenji forced a smile. “I....If it suits you, I’d like to exchange a few more words about this with my daughter.” It didn’t suit Etsuya, which showed as his expression darkened when hearing that he had to wait a little more for his answer. Despite obviously impatient, he still gave a slight nod. “Of course.” The very next second, Chieko was already grabbed by her father and pulled to the side. Once far away enough from Etsuya and his son, Zenji faced Chieko and began to whisper. “Chieko, I know you are a smart girl and I’ll leave this decision up to you. But remember, don’t pressure yourself. If you feel like rejecting the offer, I completely understand! Truth to be told, I would prefer that actually. Just tell me and I will....” He gulped but continued the sentence regardless. “.....Tell King Eizan that you refuse.” Chieko knew that the thought of having to say “No” right into Etsuya’s certainly scared her father and she appreciated that he was willing to do it for her regardless of that. However. Despite all the dark and scary stories she had already heard about Exitium. Despite the fact that neither Etsuya nor his son had shown themselves to be great examples of politeness. Despite the fact that her wise and knowledgeable father was urging her to refuse. Chieko didn’t want to. She searched her feelings and was stunned when finding out that she actually wanted this dance. If she would grasp the chance and actually be able to get on Exitium’s good side, Scientia might have found itself a very strong and valuable ally. But it was more than that. It was also the desire to prove herself. To show the rest of the world that she was capable of standing toe to toe with the other Royals, to demonstrate that Scientia would be in good, strong hands once she will be crowned queen. She just wanted everyone to finally see that she was more than what meets the eye. And lastly. She just wanted to have one goddamnit dance on this goddamn ball for once in her life. And if it had to be with the devil himself. “Father..” She therefore said. “Would Exitium be an alliance of benefit?” She already knew the answer and it was only verified as she saw how her father’s eyes widened before he dodged her gaze. A smile appeared on her lips as she got a hold of his chin to make her look at her again. “You worry too much. I’ll be fine, Dad.” And before he could let his overprotectiveness win over and hold her back or something, she turned around and moved away back to Etsuya and Shigeo. “Your Majesty.” She firmly called out after she had build up enough courage. “I will gladly share a dance with your son, it would be my honour!” Etsuya’s eyes widened a little at that and he seemed to be, actually impressed with the little princess. Another wonder seemed to happen as his son beside him broke his staring battle with the curtains on the other side of the ballroom to finally look at Chieko instead. A smirk played itself on his lips and suddenly Chieko felt her knees go weak as she was confronted with a piercing gaze once again. Shigeo stepped out from behind the back of his father and moved to Chieko. While doing so, he started to talk. “Well, well. I’m deeply flattered, Princess Marui.” He stopped in front of her. Interest flashing in his penetrating eyes. Having him so close, she really couldn’t deny that he was a handsome, young man. “But I do have to say, that this does not fit the formalities.” Chieko felt heat build up in her body as she watched his hand reaching out for hers. He bowed slightly and elegantly brought her hand to his mouth. “Princess Chieko Marui of Scientia.” His lips touched her palm, while his way too intense eyes continued to hold contact with hers. Instantly the blood rushed into her head, turning her face red. “May I have this dance?” It was hard for Chieko not to stammer her answer. “It...It would be a plea...pleasure.” The smirk of the prince grew a little at that and he let go of her hand. He leaned back again and rather held out his elbow to her for hooking. “Shall we then, Princess?” He asked gallantly. She could only nod and place her hand on his elbow. Shigeo’s gaze remained on her for a few seconds more before he turned his head to Zenji who had placed himself next to Etsuya in the mean time and had become pale again. “I will make sure to give your daughter a dance she deserves, Your Majesty, there’s no need to worry.” And with a last nod directed to his father, he turned his head away again and lead Chieko to the dance floor. Meanwhile Chieko had an rumble of emotions going on within her. She honestly never expected Shigeo to be so eloquent....so...so....charismatic. It made her feel a spark of interest that went beyond ‘alliance’. Mentally she shook her head, quickly telling herself to stay focused and not let herself be bewitched by the charms of some prince. Especially not if it was a prince that could possibly lie. Shigeo stopped in his walk once they had reached the dancefloor making Chieko stop as well. She took her hand off his elbow so he could turn to her and face her instead. But once their eyes met Chieko looked elsewhere. She heard a chuckle. “Why so nervous now, Princess? Have you fallen for me already?” Almost automatically she spat. “Of course not!” It only lead to another amused snicker. “Whatever it is then, I assure you there’s nothing to worry about....” Immense arrogance that could rival Hideyoshi’s showed in his voice. “...I am a splendid dancer.” Chieko huffed. At that moment the music of the previous song faded, telling both of them that it was time to get serious. As she had learned it Chieko made another curtsy, while Shigeo bowed. As they lifted their heads to look at each other again they reached out for each other’s hand to let their fingers intertwine. Her other hand landed on his shoulder, while his was placed on her hip, making her blood start to boil again. And then. Just as they had gotten in position. The new tune started. And so they began to move to the music of he orchestra. She let him take the lead and followed each of his steps with precision. Very soon they were in sync as they almost floated over the floor. His eyes attached to her, while she still looked to the side. It what Chieko has practiced for so long but never had been able to show. Over the years she had memorised so many steps and twirls. She smiled a little. Finally. “I see that you’re good in dancing as well.” He said after a while. A pause emerged as Chieko did not really know how to answer but rather had another blush spread on her face because of the compliment on something she had tried to perfect for so long. And then, he spoke up again. “Princess Chieko Marui, you really are an interesting woman.” Now she couldn’t help but to look at him in wonderment about this statement. Her eyes questioning she met his gaze again and found him with a confident smile. She tilted her head a little. “Why? Because I can dance?” She took a quick look around them, seeing all the other couples twirling their circles. She looked back at him. “That really isn’t very amazing.” “Hm..” He hummed. “No it’s not just that, Princess Marui.” After another turn he explained. “I’ll be honest with you. And let me tell you, that is privilege not many achieve. I was not very avid when my father came to tell me he had finally found a dance partner.” For a moment is smile actually disappeared and he started to roll his eyes. “Normally the girls either throw theirselves at me, while clearly only interested in the prestige of my family name and thinking I am easy to seduce with their empty compliment and boring talks or they shiver uncontrollably clearly scared.” To underline how he annoyed he was of hear actions he added. “It’s a pain.” The smirk returned to his face as he then said. “You, however, are different.” Chieko blinked at that, a little too flabbergasted to give an answer. Shigeo chuckled. “I’ve never seen a girl so fiercely walking up to my father and speaking up so confidently. Normally they sent out their fathers or mothers to let them do the talking and even they request the dance in a whimper.” His smirk grew a little. “What you did was certainly impressive.” Chieko’s cheeks became hot once again and she responded. “Thank you for the compliment....” “I don’t understand why you don’t have princes lining up to ask for a dance.” Shigeo continued smoothly. “You’re the crown princess to a steady nation, you’re pretty and you seem to be the smart kind as well.” “Pre-“ Chieko squeaked while her face got red even more. She quickly shook her head to get a clear mind again. But once she did, her eyes turned downcast and she looked back to the side. “People don’t take notice of me.” She explained honestly. “They all see me as weak and helpless. A baby-animal so to speak. A candle in the wind.” The conversation she had heard earlier played in her head again and she pressed her lips together. For a little while Shigeo remained quiet and at some point she assumed he was out of arguments and compliments. But then he suddenly spoke up again. “And yet here you are, dancing with one of the most dangerous men on the ball like it is nothing.” He turned her around and after she had done so, she looked back at him in astonishment. His smirk turned to a grin. “I wouldn’t exactly deem that weak and helpless.” It was then that Chieko actually noted how many eyes the two had caught already and how even most of the other dancing couples were eyeing them. “Is that....Princess Chieko Marui of Scientia?” “.....dancing with one of the three princes of Exitium?!” “How bold!” “I would never dare!” Chieko turned her head back to Shigeo. “That....that is all because of you and your reputation.” He only snickered once agains. “No, Princess Chieko, it’s not. They all admire the princess who’s dancing with a monster.” Chieko felt her heart accelerate a little as she kept on taking turns and slides with him over the dancefloor while more and more pairs of eyes began to watch them.

---

[One of the main things going on with Chieko’s character in the fanfiction is that she tends to get heavily underestimated, sometimes even by her friends....this is also one of the reasons why her having a significant relationship to Shigeo is a thing, as Shigeo is a rather intimidating personality that many, many students on Totsuki fear. 

As he often gets confronted with her fierce side, he’s actually one of the few persons who recognize her potential.

I tried to make this a sort-off theme here as well and I hope I didn’t screw up too badly. 

Also I was like....suffering to write the actual dance QwQ I’m really not good at things like this.

Anyways, here’s my little “I-had-a-bad-day”-comfort fic ;w;

As a last funfact: I was only listening to the Soundtrack of “Madoka Magica” when writing this and I’ll be honest. In my mind the tune they dance to is “Sis Puella Magica” since I...just heavily associate it with this story now XD Even tho....”Sis Puella Magica” comes from a completely different place.

This one works as well (It’s basically “Sis Puella Magica” but without vocals -w- and even more orchestral, so it might work better as song for a ballroom dance : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rT0hDTsNais&t=37s) ]

[catlynn-reviews]

Book: Nightmares and Dreamscapes Series: standalone Author: Stephen King Pages: 912 Favorite Quote: “I think that myth and imagination are, in fact, nearly interchangeable concepts, and that belief is the wellspring of both.” Recommendation: If you like horror, Stephen King, stories that stick with you, anthologies Overall Rating: ★★★☆☆ (3/5)

Synopsis: 

The classic short story collection from #1 New York Times bestselling author Stephen King! A wrong turn on a lonely road lands a wayward couple in Rock and Roll Heaven, Oregon, where there’s no escaping the free nightly concert….A novelty toy becomes an unexpected and terrifying instrument of self-defense….An ex-con pieces together a map to unearth a stolen million dollars—but at what price?...A private investigator in Depression-era Los Angeles is finding his life unraveling as he discovers the shocking truth of who he really is….A third-grade teacher is willing to dig deep in order to exact revenge for his murdered wife.... These are just some of the haunting scenarios to be found in this classic collection—spellbinding tales from the darkest places and the unparalleled imagination of fiction’s master storyteller.

*This book will be a little different as an anthology. I’m going to give each story in it a rating and one note. Because there are so many stories I’ll do this below the cut.*

Dolan’s Cadillac

This book entangled itself in my thoughts so completely that it was all I talked about in the days after I read about it

★★★★★ (5/5)

The End of the Whole Mess

I enjoyed the twist on this one, but it was a little hard to read at the end (even if that was the point. Not as memorable as Dolan’s Cadillac.

Reminiscent of Flowers for Algernon

★★★★☆ (4/5)

Suffer the Little Children

This one was amazing. Had a lot of twists and bordered the line between psychological horror and monster horror very well

★★★★★ (5/5)

The Night Flier

This one was too obviously horror for me. I like mine to subtly wrap its way around your spine until you involuntarily shudder. Not so much the monsters.

★★★☆☆ (3/5)

Popsy

Seemed unoriginal after the Night Flier and focused too much on the monsters.

★★☆☆☆ (2/5)

It Grows on You

I didn’t really understand this one but according to King it’s related to Needful Things so I might need to read that one.

★★★☆☆ (3/5)

Chattery Teeth

This one was interesting to me, supernatural with the barest twinge of psychological

★★★★☆ (4/5)

Dedication

This story would have been so good (fully psychological) except for one gross scene that made me need to put the book down

The premise of this story makes sense to me - even if it doesn't happen the way King describes

★★★★☆ (4/5)

The Moving Finger

Creepy as hell - to the point where I had to side eye all of the drains in my bathroom.

★★★★★ (5/5)

Sneakers

I enjoyed this one more than I thought I would, no matter how improbable the setup seemed.

★★★★☆ (4/5)

You Know They Got a Hell of a Band

Second best story in the anthology to me

I didn’t know half of the famous names mentioned and I was still captivated by the story

★★★★★ (5/5)

Home Delivery

This story felt rather meh to me. The premise has been done so many times that something new and exciting has to be added for them to bring me any sort of enjoyment

★★☆☆☆ (2/5)

Rainy Season

I love the deeper questions this raised about fate, and the unreal quality everything in the story seemed to take

I think I would enjoy a longer story about this town.

★★★★★ (5/5)

My Pretty Pony

This felt just weirdly preachy and didn’t really have any salient plot points - or plot at all for that matter. 

★☆☆☆☆ (1/5)

Sorry, Right Number

Super engaging. This one had me the most worried to see what happens next, both anxiously and excitedly.

The fact that she ended up being right, but not in the way she thought of? Amazing

★★★★★ (5/5)

The Ten O’Clock People

I enjoyed that nothing in this story happened like I thought it would

Didn’t resonate with me as much as it would to someone who grew up in a time where smoking was more populat

★★★★☆ (4/5)

Crouch End

This was very reminiscent of Portero from Dia Reeves’s books, Slice of Cherry and Bleeding Violet. I love those books but this one was less interesting to me. Not bad, just slower paced.

★★★★☆ (4/5)

The House on Maple Street

This one was much more monstery than I usually enjoy but this story was amazing. It also vaguely reminded me of something that would happen in Portero.

I actually laughed out loud at the climax of this story, so definitely enjoyable.

★★★★★ (5/5)

The Fifth Quarter

This was just a lackluster story to me. Felt a lot like a pirate movie or western.

★★☆☆☆ (2/5)

The Doctors Case

If copyright law does one thing good, its that all of the works people make based on the original come flooding in after the copyright expires.

I thoroughly enjoyed King’s Sherlock Holmes story, and the expansion of Watson as a character.

★★★★★ (5/5)

Umney’s Last Case

Time travel, depression, and authors oh my!

Interesting, but not the best. I do like the idea of how the principles could be applied to a different story though.

★★★★☆ (4/5)

Head Down

I dont read Stephen King for non-fiction, nor do I read non-fiction at all.

Especially not about sports.

★☆☆☆☆ (1/5)

Brooklyn August

Still baseball, not really the non-fiction horror story I read the anthology for

★☆☆☆☆ (1/5)

[shade-without-color]

Chapter 2-Bottoms up

Talon sighed deeply as he plopped down the bar,settling down with a drink revels,to disappear in the crowd is perhaps the nicest thing ever. He hated the affairs within affairs within the palaces. So far for taking the mantle as the guard dog of Arcona. One day it would be a quarrel of something worthless,like who should wear the necklace to that occasion of the lifetime,inherited by some lost great grandmother on the bloodline. The next is the mere gossip from the older ladies which eligible bachelor is going to marry who,after all status is king and grabbed their grubby hands on those lords,and even worse he has to bring many many dogs for an evening stroll while the men gossip over the lowly nature of Talon. In fact they should change his name to be the Caretaker of Arcona rather than a guard dog, So far for his reward of solving the crime of the bloodied handkerchief lying down on the pathway. Somehow he wished to be known as just lord Talon and no one else.

Maybe he could escape the confining spaces of the palaces somehow. Even an inn next door sounds like paradise for him. For now, a sip by the bar seems to dissolve all of the bullshit from running around in the palace.

And then Talon thought again,maybe he needs something simulating,not searching for some ring from a great aunt of theirs in the seas of silks and chiffons or by parties that he was used as an entertainment value,a plaything which he sits on the chair,analyzing their pathetic stories based on the attire they wore. He twiddled his thumbs slightly as he waited impatiently for some food to come in. Somehow the cheese seems to be so tempting for his hungry stomach,and his ears hearing about the peculiar and the strange,all in that last moment he glanced at that stranger,his thoughts of hunger passed away. He seems to carry that devilish handsomeness like a close friend he once knew. Talon observed her even more as he slid himself on the stool. “Care for a drink old friend ?” There is that charm and wit that drenched in her voice,and of course a cocked eyebrow won him the deal. “Sure another will be great.” Maybe he can endure the hunger for a little bit. A good companion is what he needed. And the Avenger of Arcona (or Lady Cecily which he knows) is the perfect person,it has been months since she has seen her.

As The Avenger (Or Cecily in our story for people who do not know the secret identity is both. Talon was the first to figure it out due to some interesting circumstances) whistle to the bartender,he simpered regretfully to Cecily. On she knows his demise “May I entertain you with the carnival which I called it..”

“I know.” Cecily grinned slightly as she read his mind and seeing an another drink come in “A toast to our friendship..” as she took a glass and drank it loudly with a loud heave. Talon laughed at that boldness as he knows that her other persona-The Ganacagh of Arcona is very ladylike and demure which she hesitates on a drink. However, with the right company, she seems to make herself at home with the bars drinking her heart out. “A toast to clear all bullshit…May it end..” Talon noticed that Cecily clasped a piece of paper with her gloved hand. That proves intriguing “What the hell is that..” Cecily smirked slightly on Talon’s intrigue “You know..a rumour to keep you occupied.” There she whispered something intriguing.

“A dragon lurking in a forest..” as he swiped that note, reading all of its details. A part of him is skeptical,it could be a fairy story made up by some peasant to make cheap cash and of course, he could think of a hoard of stupid farmers falling of that trick. “It is just a ploy...I am not wasting my energy on that.”

Cecily shrugged too “I am too,when I saw a drunk old man clasping on that paper,I suspect that he died of a disease..” Cecily pursed her lips slightly,giving a cheeky smirk at Talon. “So can you solve that who did he died?” as she slid a drink cheekily “before I can disperse the information.”

It sounds like a good deal. “Well let me asked how old is that person?” Well it lasted through the night until Cecily handed him the paper. Talon’s face flushed with pride  “I heard the rumours of the servants that you are itching to go outside. You never drink but you seem to go to the bar almost every night. I suppose to escape the chattery..” as Cecily bit that piece of cheese and give the another to him. Talon could read her expression beneath the mask,she is nearly wasted.

“I  know but…”

Cecily interrupted him slightly “I suppose you enjoy being confined..” as Cecily gripped her hand playfully swinging the dagger back and forth “Or we could be foolish and take that contract for an adventure of a lifetime…” before Talon could mutter an another excuse, she whispered something else. Talon smirked again “O.K then how shall we go from there.”

“How about going to the bar via the path of the woods, I just simply lock the door from where I stay and made an excuse that I could countercheck some documents, it will lead outside to some village.” Talon pondered slightly “But I am afraid that little brat will spot me, you know the one you met at the party a while back..”

Cecily nodded slightly,she dreaded that image of him all slobbering and rude “How about the forest? You know in tales all set in the forest,I can figure a path for you.” Talon pondered silently,true it is a little hike away on horseback but surely no nosy guard could find him should he wake himself in the wee hours in the morning. All he needed is that new medicine he invited to feign sickness. He took a likening of experimenting that formula with a blabbering lord of his,to replace his nightcap. “Hmm, I better start packing light, some long johns and shirts..” She clapped her hands with joy,it surely lifts Talon’s spirits up. “Great! I will send my messenger should we decide where to meet!"

Clue: Where should Cecily and Talon go the next morning for their adventure to find the dragon to the enchanted forest or the wooded path behind Talon’s mansions? So the next chapter will be based on your choice!

[silvertaetae]

KTH: New Beginnings {Preview}

Pairing: Vet!Taehyung x College!Reader (and Yuta and the reader used to date :/)

Warnings: Mentions of/ Death, Half of this angst, other is super fluffy, plus a dash of smut, Tae being absolutely whipped because he is, Unprotected Sex (wrap it before you tap it, Kids.) Oral (fem reviving), Some degrading terms, language, Tae’s (scary ass) duality, chocking (because have you seen Tae’s hands?), DoCtOr kIM ;)) , honestly just straight filth, stubborn reader. (and a dog who really wants the magic to happen.)

Summary: (okay hear me out. One: my other summaries all flopped because of...Two: I cant do the summary and not give away some of the story which...I mean I’m still editing so I might just change the whole beginning part, but it’ll be here when the story is published.)

A/N: I just want to let you know. I have two beginnings to this story and still don’t know which one to use. The one you’re reading now is shorter because if I did the other one this preview would be like 8,000 words long ..... whoops. So I don’t know if I’ll use the other one because it’s kind've of descriptive on the relationship of Yuta and Y/N. Also please give me feedback, because this is my first fic and I want it to be great and thank you for taking time out your day to read this (hoooorrrible piece of work.)!!! 💓💓💓💓

“Y/N- Yuta died last night.” Jennie's voice cracked. That was the moment everything stopped. No birds were singing. No cars outside honk their horns rushing to get to work. There was nothing. Nothing, but a static silence that filled the air. Tears slip past your eyes unconsciously.

“What?” You manage to crack out.

“Yuta died in a car crash.” It felt so unreal to hear those words. Not when you could still hear his laugh. When you could still feel his arms around you. When you still remember his smile. His lips. His touch. His voice. His everything. How could he have been gone when you could remember everything so vividly. There was no way. Every moment of the life you had flashed before your eyes. That’s all gone? Then his last words repeat through your head.

‘As if anything could keep me away from you.’

He told you he’d come back. He promised he’d come back.

He promised you.

You still smell his warm vanilla and cinnamon scent. You look down and see his shirt. The shirt he wore last night before changing. Before he went off and lived his final moments. Before he said I love you for the last time.

“Y/N say something.” Jennie tried to read any emotion she could get from you. Heart beating fast, tears brimming, stomach-churning, head pounding. Yuta’s gone?

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” You get up from the table and run to the bathroom, hearing Jennie not that far behind you. You swing the bathroom door open and fall to the floor in front of the toilet. You feel Jennie rub your back and keep your hair from falling. It felt like someone tied bricks to your ankles and left you to die in an overbearing thick sadness. The feeling making you sick to your stomach. You gag and cry and puke and wail. Everything coming out at once. “Fuck! Fuck! I told him-” You swing your head back over the toilet. “- not to go. If I had just-” Your throat burns as you gag. “-if I had just got him to stay. He'd be here. It's my fault.” Your head is back over the toilet. “He’s dead because I couldn't get him to stay! Yuta’s dead because of me!”

“Y/N you didn't do anything wrong. Don't blame yourself. It’s gonna be okay Y/N.” Jennie whispers trying to calm you down.

That was one year ago. You’re now twenty-three years old. It’s been one year without Yuta. One year without hearing his voice. One year without feeling his touch. One year without waking up to him by your side. One year without any of the stupid fights. One year without exchanging ‘I love you’s. One full year without your first love. He had to have a closed-casket funeral. His body and face to destroyed to show. You knew that if you saw the wax figure of Yuta you would be able to control yourself from touching it and crying. It would make you think he was real. That he was still here with you. That he hadn’t left you here, heartbroken. Many people came to his funeral. You met some of his cousins and best friends. You cried with his family and broke down during your speech. The wake was silent and you fought the urge to walk out. You always visit his grave. Make it a requirement to see it at least three times every month, but you always go more than that. You sit there in silence and don’t really think at all. Always bringing him flowers, whenever the one you brought before start to wilt. Still blaming yourself for his death. The first few months were awful, but they were filled with anger. You were enraged at the fact that life continued without him. That people lived their so perfectly as if someone so great hadn’t lost their life. How a world could still function and be okay when he was gone. The rage hit hard, but soon it was gone. The fire that once roared, was put out and left a cold and stagnant body.

Since his death, you’ve been more shut off., as predicted. Your bubbly personality became only a past memory to your time with Yuta. Everything you are is melancholy. Nothing was important. Not food. Not bills. Not even yourself. Life became blander. Falling into a schedule. The most important or disappointing thing, however, is that all the color in your life is now gone. The colorful world around you seemed to be robbed of all the shades of beauty it held before. Now it was only figments of ashy white, gray and black that clouded your visions. No more magic ran through the air bringing the life you once had back. You’d look in the mirror and see nothing. No soul or emotion insight. Eyes hollow and empty. Just an abandoned shell walking around all these people with meaning in their lives. People who haven’t lost a purpose. The only shred of happiness you have left is Cooper, which seem to be fading.

“Hey, Cooper.” He stayed still not even lifting his head. Any other time this would’ve been normal. After Yuta died Cooper would wait for him by the door waiting for an arrival that would never happen. Even though he wasn’t as chipper as he used to be he’d still look up at you whenever you came home from work. “Cooper.” He still didn’t move. “C’ mon now Cooper.” When he still didn't move your stomach dropped. You ran to his side and drop to your knees. His eyes were open and they were following you. You slipped your hand under his chest. He still had a pulse. It was weaker than normal. “No. No. No. Cooper, please get up.” When he didn’t and whimpered you started crying. That’s how you found yourself speeding downtown to get the closest vet clinic you could find. You carried, your now seventy pound, dog crying. “Someone, please! He’s not moving!” You cry out and fight to keep Cooper up.

“Ma’am. What’s wrong?” A receptionist came up to you.

“He’s not moving. He won’t move at all. Please help him. I can’t lose him.” The last part comes out as a whisper.

“Alright. Let me take him.” You don’t want to let go. Last time you let someone you love go they died. Just the mere thought of losing Cooper makes all this pain become so much more real. That was something you weren’t ready for. Thoughts flash and you hold Cooper closer. Walls crumble and you tremble and shake at what was flying through your head. The image of being alone burned into your mind and you Cooper tight. Breath quacking and heart slamming against your chest. Your eyes squeeze tight and everything seems so chaotic. Then, a rich soothing voice broke your thoughts.

“I promise you he will be okay. I swear on my life that he will come back to you.” His voice was calming. Like a reminder to take a deep breath, a luxury you had been depriving yourself of for such a long time. A hand rubs circles on your back and you catch your breath. Somehow coaxed into letting go of Cooper. You lift him into the hands of the receptionist. A lot of loud shouts follow, but your heart is beating too fast for you to notice anything. It’s deafening at this point. The hand leaves your back and you're left standing in the middle of a vet clinic, at six in the afternoon, looking like a mad man. Finding your way to a chair, memories flood back and soon you’re crying again. He's the only thing of Yuta left. The only shred of happiness that was left after Yuta died. He’s all you had. Cooper can’t leave you to. You know people are looking at you like you are crazy, but you don’t care. You’re shaking in your seat afraid that you’ll lose him. You know people think you’re overreacting. Hell if you from two years ago saw this they would think you’re being overdramatic, but this. This is almost too much. Cooper is like your child. He’s Yuta and your child. You refuse to lose him as well. You try to lift your head, but once again your body felt heavy. The sun beams down on your neck as you shake and shudder. “If anyone is listening, I beg of you don’t take him. I’ve lost love. I can’t lose my only happiness. I can’t.” Begs and please leave your mouth in a whisper. Your pleas soon slow down and your mouthparts only a little. Exhaustion taking over your body.

You’re awoken to a loud bark. Your mind stirs and head throbs, still unaware of the surroundings. The memories of past events hit, full force. The frown that once painted your face came back. Slowly you blink and the current environment becomes clear. The vet clinic. Why were you still here? You stretch wincing at how your body pops, from falling asleep on such an uncomfortable surface. It was silent in the clinic. You look around, searching to see if anyone was still here. There wasn’t a soul in sight and only one dim light showing from a room down a hallway. It smelled of bleach and other cleaning supplies and your stomach churned. The moon, which was now distorted from the rain covering the window, shined through. The realization of how late it actually was became prevalent. The normally chattery city had died down and rested for the night. The only sound being cars that went over puddles and the light music from them. Then there was a bark. A familiar one. You lurch out of the chair and follow Cooper’s bark to a door, reading the metal bar.

Dr. Kim Taehyung

You open the door and see something that you haven’t seen in a long time. Cooper’s once-forgotten gleam in his eyes is returned as he lays on someone. You see a hand petting his head, but not who the hand belongs to.

“I know Cooper, but you got to let her rest too.” Cooper shakes his head and makes eye contact with you jumping off the figure, running to you.

“Cooper!” You drop to your knees, arms open and Cooper runs into you. He barks at you and he looks so joyful. “I’ve missed you to buddy.”

“Cooper’s giving you a run for your money in that department.” The man giggles and you recognize the voice. It’s the man from earlier. The one who got you to let go Cooper with just a few words. Before you can get a good look at him Cooper is trying to lick your face and you weave his tongue just in time. “Here let me help you up.” You reach out for the man’s hand and Cooper finally gets off of you.

“Thank you.” You finally take a good look at the man and you see something that you thought was long forgotten. When you make eye contact the room gets brighter. He had dark curly brown hair that almost went past his eyes. His eyes a rich brown that seem glint even in the darkly lit room. An arched nose that crinkled in joy the mole to the left of the tip standing out. A boxy smile that showed off all his teeth. Round cheeks that reminded you of a newborn. Honey glazed skin that seems to shine and brighten the room. He was beautiful, to say the least. Especially compared to your pale and thin state.

“Y/N right?” He bit lip, looking as if he was holding something back.

“How’d you know?”

“It’s on Cooper’s name tag.”

“Oh. Right.” There was a moment of silence that passed. You stared at him and his never wavering smile. This feeling felt all too familiar. “I- Can you tell me what’s wrong with Cooper?”

“Yeah. Right. Uh, Cooper managed to sprain his right front metacarpus.” You raised an eyebrow in confusion. “It’s like his wrist. I suggest giving him these and making sure he rests. Not to do much on it. You have to watch him or it can worsen.” He hands you a white paper bag with somewhat neat handwriting written out in sharpie.

“I don’t have anyone to watch him. I have to work.”

“What about Yuta?” You wince at the mention of his name.

“How do you know who Yuta is?”

“His name is on the name tag.” He gives you a dub look and you’re taken aback. How could someone be so lively and cheerful, this late? His voice, though deep and powerful, was laced in juvenile emotion. As if he had something exciting to say every time he spoke. His eyes glinted with joy that could only come from true happiness. His strong and intimidating physical features clashed greatly with his childlike personality, that it can cause anyone to do a double-take. Had this really been the same boy who convinced you to hand over Cooper? It finally clicks that you have to respond and the words swirl in your head, but nothing can form. The words ‘Yuta has been dead for a while now’ will definitely put a damper on his and strongly affect you. Searching for something, the words finally fall.

“Yuta is- He isn’t around anymore.” You internally cringe at your oversharing.

“Oh. Sorry to hear that.” Another all to familiar silence falls between you two. The uncomfortable feeling being unavoidable “If you want he can stay here.” A soft smile comes back to his face and it warms your chest.

“No no. I couldn’t ask you to do that.” The thought of adding another load to his already busy day, already made you think you were using him. He shook is dismay.

“It’s fine. I have someone here who can watch and take care of him. I’ll throw in a discount just because Cooper is one of the best patients I’ve had.” He looks back down at Cooper then at you. You two go back and forth for a while. The whole argument, if you could even call it that, seemed extremely childish. Finally, you give in, deciding to weigh the logic against the wants.

“Fine Doctor Kim, you win.” He cheers and you notice the smile that had been on your face. You look down at Cooper, whose head was tucked between your legs, and pet him.

“Perfect and Y/N?” You hesitate a little just to continue petting Cooper.

“Yes.” When you finally look up at him, you see a wide smile on his face and cheerful glint his eyes. The look itself caused your smile to get a little bigger.

“Call me Taehyung.”

A/N: That was a long preview. (Like almost two thousand words long. Lmao.) I really hope you enjoyed this because this was fun (and stressful) to write. Feedback is appreciated. Sending love. 💓💓💓