#hes laughably suspicious in his few moments it would have been interesting if he had ever been a possible suspect

[akihikosanada]

farewell my turnabout is perfect as it is but if the plot twist had somehow been that will powers (aka a past defendant) was the true culprit that would have fucked hard too

[lizbotw]

impatient | itadori

you can’t decide if being left alone with him is a blessing or a curse half the time.

itadori yuuji x reader

word count: 2.2k

inspired by fushiguro being all pouty when he didn’t get to help itadori and kugisaki in that one episode :(

“This is so boring.”

“Yuuji, shut up.”

Shoe soles scrapping against the gravel, you didn’t even bother looking at him, although the burning gaze you already felt prickled the hairs on the back of your neck.

“You’re bored too.” It wasn’t a question.

“We’re supposed to wait for them out here.”

There was a flash of color in your peripheral and a side glance revealed that he was tapping the heel of his red sneakers on the ground—another thirty seconds of that and you’d probably end up threatening him to a life without legs (not that it’d work—Sukuna in all his stupid glory would just regenerate them for his precious vessel; speaking of which, if Sukuna decided to start complaining right now too, you were sure you would lose your mind).

Whistling wind was the only reply to your statement and, content your ears would be spared from the monologue of complaints Yuuji had been going through for who-knows-how-long-now, you crossed your arms and tilted your head back to lean against the brick wall. The stone was dusted with a rustic red—standard, yet somehow fitting for the scene around you. The building looming in front of you was dilapidated in appearance, but you admitted the sleepy residential neighborhood it was located in had some charm to it in a weary, tired sort of way. The splash of brightly colored flowers and houses on some corners really upped the appeal you had to say.

Caught up surveying the surrounding area in admiration, you were almost able to forget about the boy perched on top of the junction where the wall dipped in its height down to a low brick fence just short enough to climb on top of. Almost.

As soon as the sigh left him from beside you, your face reacted before your mind had even fully comprehended what it meant (what it meant was that there was no chance you’d get any peace and quiet around here at this rate), your features annoyed and frowning and everything in between as had become routine at this point. “Why can’t we go in?” he whined, nudging you with his knee. His gaze was expectant and weirdly innocent as he peered up at you, as though you were explaining to a child why they had to have patience. You supposed that comparison could be accurate most times when it came to Yuuji.

“Because Gojou said so.”

“He’s not even here!” That was true. He was off on some super secret mission, although the instructions he had given the group of you were specific—or... er, not too specific that you couldn’t take some... creative liberties in their interpretation, such as stopping for ice cream on the way there as per Kugisaki’s demand request—trusting the lot of you to take care of yourselves and follow them to a T. And by that, he of course meant Fushiguro keeping everyone in line.

There was another curse to take care of, yet Gojou had decided to have you two sit this one out and simply accompany Megumi and Nobara to the site���those two were to actually head inside and deal with the threat. In hindsight, it all made sense considering you, Yuuji, and Megumi had spent more time around each other prior to Nobara’s arrival at the school, no matter how minuscule the time difference was. Hell, you and Yuuji had both spent more time fighting alongside Nobara than Megumi had (they always seemed to keep getting separated from each other in some way or another during the early missions, a laughable observation now that you thought about it). Naturally, letting those two duke it out and come to a somewhat agreeable partnership was the best course of action, and what better way to do that than force them into an abandoned building together?

But even in spite of all that clear-minded reasoning, you couldn’t lie that you weren’t more than a little peeved that you weren’t getting in on any of the action. You scoffed. Team bonding, but at what cost? At the cost of your sanity, that’s what.

You rubbed your temples, squeezing your eyes shut. You no longer wanted to see. “Yuuji, we’re supposed to keep watch,” you huffed out, exasperated. Although truth be told, the title of “guards” just seemed like some fancy namesake Gojou had given you two in order to placate you and make you feel like you were actually doing something. Needless to say, it was not working.

The low section of the wall he sat upon was one half of the area that flanked the archway of the path that led up to the building, and Yuuji, stupid and silly and cute, peeked his head just around the corner to look out of the entrance at the (empty) street and then turned back to you with a shrug. “Nothing there. Job done.” Playfully adorable as he was, you cracked a smile at that, shaking your head.

“Guess you’re right—job done,” you conceded.

He beamed and then hopped off of the ledge, pacing now. You wanted to stretch your legs too and go exploring around the area, but you were trying to be the voice of reason here, knowing that if you gave up that control you were a goner for sure. It was painfully easy to get swept up in his antics.

You barely even registered him setting off on another tangent about how he wanted to go inside too, more so focused on his hands as he switched from swinging them at his side to putting them up in a mock thinking expression for his head to rest upon as he kept walking back and forth in front of you—you were wondering if (and if so, when was the perfect moment) you could reach out and grab ahold of his hand to still the restless energy... and also partially because you just wanted to.

“They’ve been in there a long time, haven’t they?” Yuuji mused, your mind actually picking up on the question now that it was directed at you and not at some vague imaginary spot in the distance. He was right. You noted the glow of the red of the bricks making up the wall as they shone brilliantly warm under the softer evening light, the silent ticking of time among the clouds your only indication of the day passing. The sky was in between the bright shades of blue of the sunny afternoon and the orange hues that were gradually creeping in and mixing with them.

“They have,” you confirmed. You wondered if you would be here until nightfall with how long it was taking them. You crossed your arms again and drummed your fingers against them. Come on already, I have things to do.

After a staring contest with one of the many dust-covered windows of the building as though you were mentally willing the two inside to come out, your narrowed gaze swung over to Yuuji to see what he was up to and promptly widened. You hadn’t noticed that he had stopped his pacing and was looking at you now, closer than you remembering him being moments before.

“And... we’ve been alone this entire time, haven’t we?” Another step forward, casual yet making you suspicious all the same.

“...yes,” you replied, wary of the grin he had—you would’ve thought it was Sukuna if not for the crinkle of his eyes into a smile that matched the one on his lips (oh yeah, that was Yuuji alright).

His steps were so easy, carefree, as though he were sauntering up to talk to you any other time, but you knew him and you knew when he was planning something. Sure, there were times you were downright confused by just about everything he did, but then there were others where his thoughts were just plain obvious.

“And what have we been doing?” In one swift movement he had trapped you against the wall—another step and your back would hit the surface—piercing look pinning you in place. It was a sudden development but you also had the notion that you should have seen this coming from a mile away. He didn’t even need to put an arm out to prevent you from side-stepping out of the spot, his mere presence enough (although you very much wanted to wipe that sweet smile off of his face).

Your mind scrambled for words, you glancing off to the side briefly—you could not maintain eye contact with him like this. “Talking?”

His eyes lit up and you had the feeling you’d just fallen right into his trap. The hand that came up to cup your face confirmed your suspicions. “Yeah, and that’s boring, isn’t it?”

You swallowed, trying to still your breathing. “It is...”

Yuuji tilted his face forward to lean his forehead against yours, skin warm. Both of you were silent aside from the quiet hitches of breath, scrutinizing one another. When you felt his thumb press against the full part of your bottom lip in interest, you just about lost it. His voice was smooth and low when he spoke, “I was going to wait until later but...” You felt him breath in.

Later was usually when anything happened, you two not yet entirely bold or confident enough when it came to most displays of affection in public—or at least in front of the others that was. Their teasing was enough to have your face burning in shame for days, even if you had to admit it was funny at times. You barely even held hands in front of them. Then again... following Yuuji’s train of thought... you had been out here alone for so long already... maybe it wouldn’t hurt to just...—you weren’t lost to contemplation for long though as he brought you back to reality.

A mere brush of his lips against yours stopped you from replying, your eyes falling closed, heart hammering. Your hand found a weak grip on the front of his shirt as you waited expectantly for the warm flush of his mouth.

“What are you two doing?”

You jolted at the familiar voice, heart hammering for an entirely different reason now, and pulled away from Yuuji’s face, although his grip on your head didn’t let you get far, the press of his ring finger and pinky into the back of your neck dizzying. Fushiguro and Kugisaki stood a few feet away, looking a little worse for wear with minor scrapes and bruises littered on their exposed skin, but thankfully all in one piece.

Eyes darting to them, mind reeling as you realized the compromising position you had been caught in, you thought up an excuse on the spot.

“Standing guard.”

“About to kiss.”

You and Yuuji both spoke at once. You slowly looked at each other, blinking.

A second passed and then— “Why are you lying?” he asked, genuinely confused.

You slapped a hand across his chest in horror at him blatantly blowing your cover like that. “Yuuji!” You were mortified (but also... he was still so close... it was almost easy to forget that the other two were still there).

“I...” Fushiguro looked like he was about to say something but thought better of it and shook his head. “I don’t want details. Let’s just go.”

A sigh of relief left you, but then Yuuji gave a chipper, “Okay!” and when he still didn’t release his hold, you had a vague feeling in your gut that something was wrong—

He leaned forward to close the gap at last and press his lips against yours, swallowing up your breath in the process—then he pulled away like it was nothing, off to go bother Fushiguro about the details of the curse.

You stood there, dumbfounded.

A gasp. “Gross!” Kugisaki shrieked, sounding like she wanted a break from everything that had occurred in the past five hours. She was sticking her tongue out, nose scrunched up and eyes screwed shut. “I cannot see anything cute after dealing with that thing inside.” A nose of discontentment, “Bleh.” But then she seemed to have a moment of clarity, clapping both hands on the side of her face and giving you a look that might as well have been an overexaggerated wink paired with her shouting every cliche couple trope from the rooftops. “But also... romantic.” Please someone save you.

Fushiguro was looking a little pale himself, caught off guard by the display of affection, staring at you, but then catching himself and looking away. He looked embarrassed and he didn’t even have anything to do with it.

Carefully, robotically, you brought a finger up to brush against your lips, still warm where Yuuji’s had molded between them, and subsequently noticed the teasing look he was giving you in the distance. It was a little too smug for your liking.

You stalked up to him and jabbed a finger into his chest, staring him down. “Yuuji, I swear-”

Kugisaki shoved the two of you towards the exit before you could get into a fist fight over a single surprise kiss, tsking while Fushiguro followed behind in her wake (you wondered if he would recover from... that any time soon—poor boy). “Okay, move it along, lovebirds. I want to go take a shower.”

[sereisstuff]

𝙵𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐// Kuina Hikari

Warnings - Angst? Reader is an introvert, contrast to Kuina. Cheesy?

Word count - 2.5K

Disclaimers - For those of you who do not support the LGBTQ+, please move along. I don’t want any negative feedback that includes slander of the community as this will be a female x female story. 

Authors note - I got a bit carried away towards the end, I wanted to dip my toes into writing for Kuina and let me tell you, I will be coming back with more. I know I write my stories based off confessions but that’s usually how I get the feel of writing.

Italics + bold means its a flashback and Italics on it’s own means someone is currently speaking. 

Summary - Love is an evil thing but you know the saying, love prevails. So will it unleash itself in the borderlands, or will it be kept behind a cage until all hell breaks lose?

“Do you just casually follow people around or is that your quirk?” You asked venomously, glaring at the lengthy girl before you, watching her eyes deepen at the accusation you spat. Marking her existence with a smile, orbs glistened in delight as she played with the nicotine between her lips.

She raised her brows in laughter, reaching for one of the phones before her, carefully analysing your expressions as she purposely reached for the device tediously, wanting to witness the instant regret you felt beholding her intentions.

“My name's Kuina if you were wondering and no I’m not following you, my visas running out as it does” she laughed plausible showcasing her declining visa with a grin. she towered over your stature with a soft glare in her rounded eyes. 

You paused in your spot momentarily, gripping the sides of the black piece of technology in your palms. Of course she wasn’t following you, how stupid can you be, you ridiculed yourself mentally. 

It was laughable how paranoid you grew during your cursed time in the games, such and so having such an intimidating figure stalk not too far from you made you on edge, deliberately assuming the worst when clearly you mistook your fear of the games over fear of communication. 

“Oh, right. I’m sorry. My name is y/n” you replied, holding out your hand in an attempt to cover up your embarrassment. You looked down before your sweaty palm, cursing your unruly hair, strands stretched to the lengths of your arms with your head bowed.

You mumbled incoherent cuss words to yourself, fidgeting with your fingers.

It was nerve wracking to be quite frank

“Kuina Hikari, nice to meet you” she grinned warmly, grasping your hand in her own, feeling the velvety touch of her skin clash with your nervous shell. You would often laugh in situations like this but it wasn’t often you were met with someone who caught your attention as much as her.

You both stood like that for a moment before she clicked her tongue, in all honesty. Kuina had an admiration for you, you seemed reserved and introverted. It was applaudable, Chishiya surely would have made use of you but Kuina was far different from him, she was coated in harsh skin but genuinely, she was someone who admired closely to those she wished.

The sudden noise broke you from your trance, releasing a cough into the tensed air. You quickly pulled your hand back from her embrace, missing the texture against your own but you worried less, today might as well be the last, you couldn’t attach yourself to someone who could be gone within the next few minutes.

Kuina stuck close to you from then onwards, her arm lightly bumping yours bringing your attention away from the entrance of the game as she casually ignored her subtle advances. In a way it helped ease the tension rising within your own mind, you chewed your lips nervously, any harder you could draw blood but you didn’t care, you had only attended three games before this one and it didn’t help that you were distracted by her presence.

“Nervous?” she asked, her posture spoke for itself. Calm, calculated, cool. The three big c’s and she had them all, much like her counterpart she was game defying.

Kuina gazed your way with curiosity, she couldn’t help but wonder more, wanting to callously defy the self made laws of the beach and surpass the barriers of selfish independence. she wanted to know you, your origins, your life, everything.

“A little bit. Are you not?” you replied, raising your eyebrows in question. You placed your hands behind your back, hiding the fear causing them to shake irrationally. You didn’t want her to think of you as weak, maybe that’ll give you more time to be by her side, if you didn’t suddenly meet your demise so quickly.

Kuina shrugged, popping the nicotine from her mouth “Maybe?, I wouldn’t know by now.” her eyes dazed into existence for a moment then came right back to your own with a glint of hope, or was that just the sickening feeling in your stomach forcing you to assume otherwise. 

she stared at you, hands clenching in determination as she spoke“ Stick with me and you’ll be fine” her words soared confidently and you took note of her peak in confidence, was it a façade? You thought. It couldn’t be, many here either portrayed one of two emotions. Fear or determination yet she showed none, her return was defined in bold and you couldn’t convince her otherwise.

“Are you sure?’ You whispered, your voice pitching higher not wanting to discomfort her. Kuina bumped your shoulder with her own, collectively nodding her head

“I’m sure”

“I see you’ve caught interest towards her?” Chishiya smirked through his words, standing just behind Kuina’s body as she gazed across the pool towards your anxious figure, she analysed what it was about you that caught her attention but couldn’t grasp it, it wasn’t unlike her to treasure likings towards people every so often but this was a contrast to her others, she fluttered at the sight of you and she wasn’t near complaining. 

Kuina glanced back at Chishiya, processing his words. Defusing his every meaning was her talent but this one backfired, did she really like you? It was hard to understand, she’d only known you for a few weeks, attending every game with you, so much that even Chishiya caught on to her advances and watched in amusement. 

“Yeah. I just don’t think now's the right time to tell her” she released, Chishiya scoffed looking ahead of himself, taking in every aspect of you. He could pinpoint the puzzle you so perfectly fit between Kuina and yourself but would prefer to leave the unmasking to his friend, after all. He enjoyed that the most.

“Poor y/n, so unaware of her surroundings. I say tell her, if not now then when?” Chishiya pressured more, he snickered smugly to himself watching the contemplation arise in her features. Kuina licked her lips as she watched Niragi begin to approach you with a look of interest, at first she processed the idea of standing up against someone as powerful and reckless as the psychopath himself and denying it, preferring other options but before she knew it, she was running to your side, taking a quick and fast seat where you were planted.

Her presence surprised you, mustering a tone of surprise, yet when you wished to curiously question her current motives, the words clung to your throat. Kuina placed her knee by yours and wrapped and arm around your neck securely, she shot you a small smile before glaring at the approaching figure. Niragi tipped his head in interest, he smelt the dramatics developing and what more was his presence useful for if not the dramatics of the borderlands.

“What’s wrong?” you piqued straight, Kuina sent you a shrug. Her back hunching comfortably whilst she rested her hands against her long legs, she shrugged “Nothing, I just thought you looked bored, should we go for a walk?” She questioned but sounded familiar to an urge, you examined her brown eyes. Crossing between you and the man slowly approaching you both.

For some odd reason he shot you a smirk before another man half his size stepped before him, his arms raised tiredly before he glanced back meeting your eyes then lazily nodding towards Kuina, she breathed a heavy sigh of doubt before humming your name “Y/n?”

You felt her hand eagerly grasp your own, the sudden touch sent electricity up your spine. The tender slither of warmth travelled in your cheeks and you suddenly couldn’t understand the concept of breathing, you always knew deep down, your liking for Kuina didn’t just rest at friends, it expanded beyond the universe and now it was slowly revealing itself to her.

“Y-yes” you stuttered, searching the reserves of the pool before you were quickly pulled up from your seat. You huffed in surprise, not expecting such strength to emit from her, you could almost feel the tension begin to unravel between her and the man standing metres away, although he was blocked by Chishiya, Kuina couldn’t help but want you far from him.

By now you and kuina had been suspiciously close, every night she was by your side and every game you clung to her like a second skin. It wasn’t out of the ordinary, you spent every breathing moment with each other and you would be lying if you said it wasn’t fuelling the fire you had.

“Where are you taking me?” you begged, her grip was fine against your limp wrist. If anything, Kuina had your trust and you knew deep down, something was on her mind.

“Away, just for a bit” came her short response.

She led you down multiple hallways and a flight of stairs before you landed in front of a door, she pushed it open with ease and made sure your body was enamoured by the breeze before tightly shutting it. 

With your hands on your hips and doubt pooling in your eyes, you asked “I’m gonna ask one more time before I lose my shit, what’s wrong?” you gaped at her being, crushing the sides of your hips with your heavy palms.

You could clearly see the worry in her eyes before she tilted her head up, hands criss crossed covering her chest and in silence you stood.

You wanted to be patient, lenient, all things she showed you, so on so forth still the silence was undeniably painful “Kuina?” you softly whispered.

Kuina pulled herself from a heavy daze of inner conflict, searching your eyes for that ounce of hope as she settled herself against the door “I brought you here because I’d rather you be by me than by that psychopath, I was worried that something bad would happened if he actually got to you” she muttered, it was odd to see her suddenly avoiding your eyes, usually that was your distinct feature, it shone vulnerability and you wanted nothing more then for her to be surrounded by your comfort.

You took a step close to her, grasping her hand confidently in your own “Is that all? You could have just told me, I would have left the second you mentioned it, if it makes you feel any better. You're the only person I’m comfortable with here, maybe Chishiya a bit but I feel like he’s secretly plotting my death” you laughed, finally releasing a breath upon hearing her light snicker.

But it was short lived, she looked at your hands. Finally taking your fingers and playing with them mustering up the courage to speak “I have something else to tell you” her tone deepened as his grew more serious, her hand raced in her chest, mirroring your own. 

You couldn’t ignore the soft touches she drew on the upside of your palm, feeling tingles run through your arm only growing more distracted but with concentration, you engulfed yourself.

“When we first met, I thought that moment we had was short lived. A moment of pure morality, where we could interact like people again and I would never see you after that” her voice wavered as she caressed your palms, bringing her focus and comfort to see you enjoying it. 

“But when I saw you sitting by the pool alone, I couldn’t help but be excited. I felt stupid, like an idiot actually to think that anything good could ever come out of this horrid place, so I questioned myself” you stared deeply into her eyes, wanting her to meet you half way and confess what you wanted to hear, unless at the end was dejection and a pool of tears.

 Her eyes glazed suddenly and you rushed to amend her sorrow with your hands planted on her surprisingly tense cheeks, you felt them softened under your touch and her breathing turned from ragged to calm, matching your painless pants.

“It’s okay” you reassured her with your head tilted and a delicate smile plastered on your face.

“I like you and not just like friends y/n, like every fibre of my being needs to be surrounded by you just to feel normal again. And I hate myself everyday because of it” she gripped your hands bringing them away from her face, holding back the tears. 

Her vulnerability wasn’t something she enjoyed nor often portrayed, her character she upheld was crumbling and all for the sake of you.

“I-” you were breathless, that’s exactly what you wanted to hear from her. Nothing more, nothing less. 

You couldn’t form the proper words to acknowledge her emotions so you sat in silence, looking at the floor. 

That was until you heard the creek of the door open, shooting your attention upward, catching sight of her blue shorts slowly disappearing around the corner.

And without a second thought, you ran after her. Screaming her name until your throat cracked, you cursed her long legs hating that you could only run so far before you felt that pain jotting in your chest and your lungs filling to a brim.

“Kuina wait, please” You shouted, not noticing her figure halting against the carpeted floor, ramming straight into her accidently, Kuina didn’t waver, holding back a laugh. “Would you at least look at me before you leave, you didn’t even give me a chance to say that I feel the same way about you” you confessed, Kuina pivoted in her spot. Eyes a harsh red matching the colour of her puffed cheeks, she was shocked.

 Frowning towards your answer as if she didn’t believe you.

“What?” she choked.

“At one point I just accepted that we would never be something, like two people colliding in a world that didn’t want them. I was honestly on the brink of death when I met you and I wasn’t going to do anything about it, still, you pulled me out and showed me that no matter how many times I drowned you would pull me out, your a colossal idiot if you think I would never fall for you, I was head over heels the moment we met and it only grew, so I’m hoping that you’ll accept me” Kuina dawned shock over her timid features, covering the warming feeling in her stomach as the butterflies flew. 

“Accept you?” she scoffed, arms crossed defensively “I just confessed my love for you and you're asking me if I’ll accept you?” her voice was growing heavier by the second as she finally took a moment to seep into your questionable eyes, she grabbed your head. 

Tucking a strand behind your ear succumbing to the moment,  and with the tilt of her head she captured your lips in her own.

It was eccentric. The butterflies flew and your mind was in a haze. Was this really happening? you weren’t dreaming? was the woman that reached her hands into a pit of fire to get you, really kissing you. It was all too much, you relaxed at the sudden touch of her hand against your cheek, finalising the moment with the movement of your lips.

Her touch devoted itself to you, feeling the seep of love run from her lips and passionately sharing her confession.

You smiled into the kiss finally backing up in heavy pants, Kuina mimicked your breathing with her forehead leaned against your own, her orbs searching yours with delight. No more fear, no more pressure. The eggshells she walked on no longer existed and she cherished every passing second.

“You know, I kinda just hoped you’d fall in love with me and confess but this way works too.” 

[skullsandwineglasses]

The Rebel Princess - Final Review (SPOILERS)

I tend to be quite critical right after I watch the finale of a drama since emotions are high, so my review might be a little harsh. My feelings might simmer over the next few days while I digest things, but for now, I’ll break down my impressions into 3 parts: The “Good”, The “Didn’t Make Sense”, and The “Could Have Been Better”. 

The “Good” 

The final scene. That’s the first immediate good thing that comes to mind. That’s probably the only good thing tbh. To be clear, these last 5 episodes weren’t bad. Everyone got their comeuppance, our leads live happily ever after, and Wang Su finally sees the light and goes against Daddy Wang by saving baby Jing’er. But, there were quite a number of things that frustrated me while watching. 

I will note one other good thing, which is that we got to see our favourite OTP act out a show to misdirect the rebels in hiding and lure them out. We finally get to see our leads collaborating and putting their smarts together! But, this meant that they had to separate again for the millionth time in this drama. And even though it was just an act, the fake confrontation scene between them still stung. As a trashy romantic, I wish we got to see more scenes of them together, especially towards the end of the drama. 

The “Didn’t Make Sense”

But because we finally get to see them work together, I wished we got to see more scenes with them plotting together. This is the first time that they’re working together to uncover a political plot, and yet it’s only relegated to one short conversation scene between them after Awu returns from meeting with her brother who refuses to tell her who’s behind the scenes pulling the ropes. 

ALSO, the drama never really addressed how Xiao Qi kind of handwaved Zitan’s involvement in the Neem Yu Shan plot. How did Xiao Qi go from “I need to have vengeance for my betrayed fallen soldiers” to “I need to help uncover the plot against the crown”. It’s kind of implied that Awu might have already told Xiao Qi about the truth before Song Huaien does, but the drama never makes that clear because we never see that scene if there was one. If Xiao Qi learns about the truth from Song Huaien first, does he then talk about to Awu? Again, we don’t know because it’s never shown to us. Instead, right after we see him learn about it from Huaien, it then immediately cuts to the confrontation scene with Awu. BUT, since this confrontation scene was revealed to be planned by them, it means that they’ve already discussed the Zitan problem in private beforehand, and Xiao Qi already knows that Awu knows, but we never see this conversation. It’s also revealed that they’ve long been suspicious of Huaien, but when did this suspicion start? Again, we don’t see this conversation. We just have to guess. 

This is just one example of how these last 5 episodes made it VERY obvious where scenes were deleted. A lot of scenes were cut abruptly where one scene would suddenly cut to the next, and you kind of had to infer what happened between those scenes. Things still made sense and you could still follow along, but you could tell that they cut out scenes that would have helped flesh things out and make the transitions smoother.

Villains: Nearly every villain in the drama (Jin’er, Zitan, and Song Huaien) turned back into their “good” old selves again during their downfall. And because of this, it made the finale of the drama pretty underwhelming. Jin’er expressed how she misses the old days to Awu and calls Awu one of the most important people in her life, Zitan sees the light and promises to yield the throne to his nephew and face punishment for his actions, and Song Huaien uses his last dying breath to ask Xiao Qi to take him back to Ning Shuo and how he doesn’t want to be in the capital anymore (when he literally has an arrow to the heart while sitting on the throne he just stole). These characters take an abrupt 180 degree turn when they’ve been blind with envy and hatred for most of the drama. Just moments ago they were shooting daggers out of their eyes, and then suddenly they regret everything they’ve done. Their downfall felt too easy, and their redemption felt even easier and unearned. And Awu forgives all of them (as expected). When she pitied Zitan, I was like, girl, he doesn’t deserve your pity. I get that she needs him to sober up in order to discourage the rebels, but still. He had his own brother killed and tried to have her husband killed. Instead she consoles him like a lost puppy. I know that Awu’s a saintly character, and I’ve talked about the virtues of her character before, but sometimes I wish she’d be a little less saintly. 

I think Daddy Wang’s final scene fit most well with his character. He’s defeated, but doesn’t entirely express regret for his actions. Which makes sense for his character. He’s never doubted his decisions all throughout the drama, so why would he start now. Even when Awu asks him if he ever loved her mother, he doesn’t answer her. Instead, he deflects the question back to her to ask if she loves Xiao Qi or Zitan, which is such a laughable question. How is Zitan even still considered a potential love interest for Awu at this point? In response, Awu tells him “此愛非彼愛”. Which I’m still trying to interpret?? To directly translate it, it would translate to “this love is not (comparable to?) love”. I’m having trouble interpreting  非 彼. 非彼 means “not comparable to”. Is Awu saying that this love isn’t comparable to another love? Is she saying that this love isn’t considered love? Love for whom? Is she taking about her love for Xiao Qi and how it’s not considered “love”. Does she mean what she feels for him is more than love, or different from love? Or, does she mean her past love for Zitan isn’t love? Why is her response so vague? Her dad asks her if she loves Xiao Qi or Zitan, and she instead gives him such a dense, poetic response. Maybe my mandarin isn’t up to par to translate these historical dialogues, so I’ll be curious to see how the subs translate this line. Anyway, in the end, Awu asks her father if he would agree to being buried next to her mother, and after ignoring the question for a bit, he finally says that he wants to be buried next to her.

The treatment of women: The Elder Princess and Yu Xiu both sacrificed themselves in hopes of getting their loved ones to stop rebelling. And then Awu pulls the same move with her father in order to remind him what her mother had done in hopes of stopping him. And this was after we see Hu Yao and Nanny Xu needlessly die in the previous episodes. So all these female deaths and sacrifices made it feel like the female characters in the drama are disposable and can be easily killed off by the writers. It just didn’t really sit well with me that on 3 instances in this drama, a female character tries to use herself as leverage against a male character who’s about to commit treason. I’m also still not over Hu Yao’s death at the hands of Song Huaien, and we never get to see a proper burial for her because she’s a minor character, so the drama couldn’t be bothered to show it. The Dowager Empress also had a very anticlimactic end. She was such a major player pre-episode 50, and then suddenly she was bedridden and only heard about palace news from her maid and wasn’t able to exert much influence over the court. It was a little disappointing that we don’t get to see her wield any of her old power again after episode 50.

The “Could Have Been Better”

This might be unpopular opinion but, I think Awu and Xiao Qi kind of lost their spark in the last couple of episodes, or at least, it’s more subtle now. Probably because the plot was focused on bigger things, which I understand. These are the final episodes after all. They’re also a long-married couple now, they don’t need to constantly reaffirm their love to us. And the final scene was sweet, so I shouldn’t be complaining, but I wish we got more scenes of them alone together. I said this in a reply on another post, but their sexual tension peaked during the early episodes of the drama. It’s too bad we don’t see that level of chemistry again.

Something that I found funny was how we see Awu stand next to Zitan by the throne twice to protect him. The setup was almost exactly the same between the two scenes where Awu stands to his right. It was like the writers couldn’t figure out a new configuration for how to block the scene. The first time was during the “pretend confrontation” with Xiao Qi, and the second time was against Huaien. I just felt the the repeat setup of this scene was kind of boring and uncreative to watch. It was like the writers couldn’t come up with another way to stage a potential rebellion, so we’ll just have Zitan be cornered around on the throne twice. 

Also, Huaien wanting to suddenly take the throne and also Awu as his Empress? First of all, I don’t understand why people, who don’t have the approval of the masses, always want to become Emperor. Do they not realize that by forcibly seizing power, you’re going to lose it just as quickly because no one likes you and they’ll try to take you down? I have the same criticism for Daddy Wang and Zitan. But does Huaien think that he has enough military power to become Emperor? And unlike Daddy Wang, Huaien doesn’t have any significant political impact over the lords. Also, does he think that Xiao Qi would just never come back? Second, him asking Awu to become his wife? We don’t really see him feeling tortured over his affection for Awu again since his wedding with Yu Xiu, and now suddenly, years later, it’s revealed that he still yearns for her? And he declares his love right after stabbing her dad? I mean, writers, please. I know you want to create drama, but it has to make sense.

To be honest, I’ve always found Huaien’s character arc a little hard to believe. He’s such a noble character for the first third of the drama, and then it’s revealed that he’s always secretly harboured a greedy side. A side that craves status and recognition. He then downward spirals into this monster who kills nannies and female comrades and wants to be emperor. We see small hints of his desire for the throne, like when he eyes Daddy Wang’s tailor-made royal robes. But this desire is not fleshed out enough. Huaien’s arc could have worked, but because the drama didn’t focus enough on his internal struggle at the beginning since he isn’t the main character, the change felt abrupt. I don’t know how the book handled it, so I can’t speak to that. 

Things just escalate so quickly in this drama. I can now see AvenueX’s criticisms about the political plot of this drama and how it looks like it could have be written by a 10 year old. The writers seem to want to make things as surprising as possible, while also using a lot of old tropes that it becomes predictable. It’s very unrealistic. And the villains’ motivations and ambitions seem limitless. It felt like anyone could lay claim to the throne. 

The political scheming in this drama has never impressed me, so I suppose that I shouldn’t be surprised that these last few episodes were just as lukewarm. The problem with the political plot of this drama is that there were no smart characters except Daddy Wang. It’s just a bunch of drama queens(TM) who want power, but do a poor job of thinking things through. 

The highlight of the drama was the romance, which was a huge surprise since I didn’t start watching this drama for the romance. And yet, despite the romance being the highlight, the OTP is constantly being separated, and we barely got to see them together in the last few episodes. And the scenes that they did have together in these last few episodes weren’t memorable. If anything, their chemistry kind of fell apart during these episodes because we barely see them communicate directly with each other. 

Final Thoughts

Overall, I’d still recommend this drama just for the leads alone. You don’t see that kind of chemistry in idol dramas, and I don’t know when we’ll be able to see this level of acting between two well-matched actors in dramas again. Watching them is almost like a once-in-a-life-timeline thing. However, I think the average viewer might become frustrated with Awu halfway through. The drama’s also very bingeable (in fact it should be binged, instead of dragged on for almost 2 months). I think I would have enjoyed more if I watched all the episodes at once, instead of waiting for episodes as they came out every week, which meant that while waiting, I started to pick apart little issues that I had with the drama. 

[hotpinkhoshi]

kiss it better | two

pairing: mark tuan x reader

genre: angst, smut, brother’s best friend au (sort of)

warnings: age gap (nine years), cursing, explicit sex, slow burn

summary: you were off limits for more reasons than mark could count. but everything changed for him the day you walked into his tattoo shop with those big innocent eyes and a laugh like his favorite song. he couldn’t. he wouldn’t. and yet…

a/n: hi babies, how are we all doing? life is weird right now. i hope you’re all staying healthy and sane. please take care of yourselves! regarding the chapter, thank you guys for reading the prologue and chapter one! i know it’s a more subtle and slow burn than the pact was, but TRUST ME it will allll be worth it in the end. oh, and i wanted to point out: if you were confused by chapter one, make sure you go read the prologue first! i had titled it “preview” before but honestly, it’s important that you read it before diving into the story. 

✩ index here ✩

“No way! I loved that show. I was so sad when it ended,” you said, fingers ripping apart a second slice of pizza for yourself.

Mark grimaced, shaking his head. “Agh, no. The special effects were laughable.”

“Oh, so you’re one of those people?”

His deep brown eyes narrowed at you from across the restaurant booth. “What kind of people?”

You licked your lips and shrugged your shoulders. “You know… a snob.” You fought a smile.

Shaking his head at you, Mark chuckled, a low gravelly tone. “No, no. I just can’t do it. When I was in school, I wanted to work on special effects. I know it’s hard work, but I think that’s why I hate seeing people do such a half assed job.” 

You raised a brow. “You wanted to do special effects?” 

“Mm,” Mark replied, chewing his slice of supreme veggie pizza. “Played a lot of video games… still do, but you know, it was all I did back then. I wanted to be in the business so bad, so I thought about it. It turned me onto graphic design, which turned me onto art, which brought me here.” 

You’d been at this pizza shop for nearly an hour and you hadn’t stopped talking since. It was so incredibly easy to talk to Mark, and you weren’t sure if it was because in some way, he reminded you of home. But in an unexpected way that didn’t make you sick to your stomach.

He was also far more interesting than you’d ever thought he was. You found it so impressive how he’d found his passion and fought for it, even if it meant he might fail. If there was something Mark had an excess of, it was passion. You could easily tell from just the first moment you asked him about how he’d gotten into tattooing. 

“Wow,” you remarked, licking pizza sauce off of your thumb. “I never knew you were into all this stuff back then.” 

“Well… when I graduated you were, what? Nine?” 

You grimaced. You remembered the ungodly long graduation ceremony you’d had to sit through with your parents, all while wearing the most itchy velvet dress and tights. At the time, Taehyung had seemed like such a grown up. It was no surprise that you’d seen him as the shining Polaris to follow as you navigated through life. 

“It doesn’t feel like it was that long ago,” you said, leaning your chin upon your hand. “Weird. I can’t believe you and Tae are so…”

“Old?” Mark finished for you, one brow lifted. 

You bit back a smile, shaking your head. “I’d never say that…” 

“It’s alright, you can say it. Every morning, I wake up and a new muscle is sore. They say your health starts declining when you’re 26, so you’re living on borrowed time.” 

“Hey, I still have a few years then. Besides, you look pretty healthy to me. I mean…” Without realizing it, your eyes glanced down at his arms, the firm muscles and veins on clear display. 

Maybe it was weird, ogling your brother’s best friend, when he probably saw you as his little sister. But you couldn’t help it… he’d really grown into adulthood. His face was a mixture of sharp features and round, doe eyes and full lips. It was only your body’s natural response.

“Thanks,” he replied and you noticed the tips of his ears flushing red. “Alright, are you ready to get out of here?” 

You were grateful for the change in subject. You nodded, and with only a little shame didn’t even bother trying to pay for the meal. Funds were extra low now after that tattoo, and you knew there was no way Mark would even allow you to pay a dime.

Mark led you out of the pizza shop and into his car, where your natural flow of conversation continued. You learned that Mark and Dahyun had been at the tattoo shop for almost five years now, and Mark was essentially the head artist. He had worked hard to get where he was, starting as an apprentice and moving up the ladder.

It seemed as if he wasn’t the most social employee, though. He was friendly with Dahyun and the guys, but he didn’t talk about them much besides when referring to work. 

As Mark pulled up to the address of the hostel you were staying in, you drew in a deep breath as you prepared yourself for another night of thumping bass and blasting machine guns. 

“Thank you for tonight, Mark. I really appreciate it. And… the tattoo, obviously. I love it,” you told him, gathering up your purse as you reached for the door handle. 

“This is where you’re staying?” He asked, eyebrows raised. 

It wasn’t the prettiest building, no. It was sort of falling apart, but it was all cosmetic issues on the exterior. Inside, it was… acceptable. No air conditioning and the blankets sort of smelled, but it would do for now. 

“Yeah,” you replied, hand hesitating on the handle. “It’s not so bad. The owner is kind of creepy, and my roommate sucks but it’s a bed. I don’t need much.” 

Mark was looking at you as if he didn’t believe a word you said. You saw his jaw working as he stared at the building, then averted his eyes back to you. Slowly, he shook his head. 

“You’re not staying there. Just… why don’t you come stay with me? I have a free second bedroom.” 

You shook your head. “No, no. Mark, seriously. I’m fine. It’s really okay, it’s just a place to sleep,” you said, repeating the mantra you’d been repeating to yourself each day before entering the hostel. Honest to god, it sucked. But you weren’t about to mooch off of someone else - you were determined to be on your own and that meant you wouldn’t take any favors. 

“Seriously, Y/N,” he started, his voice turning gravely serious. “It might be a place to sleep, but I can see the termites from here. Come stay with me.” 

“Mark,” you said, voice equally serious. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about me. I’ll text you if I have any questions about the tattoo, okay?”

You reached for the door handle once more and this time, Mark just watched as you climbed out of the car, turning just before you shut the door. 

“Thank you again. I mean it,” you told him, forcing a smile that you hoped looked natural. 

Mark’s face was a mixture of emotions that you couldn’t quite place. He was still worried about you, but for now at least, he’d given up. He didn’t look pleased with you, either. His knuckles were white where they held the steering wheel. 

He muttered a ‘you’re welcome’ before you shut the door. 

Turning towards the hostel, you took a deep breath and steeled yourself for another night in hell. 

-- -- -- -- --

You woke up, as usual, with sweat dripping down your neck and a kink in your lower back. You groaned, twisting your upper body in an effort to stretch as much as you could in the tiny bunk. It was a shit hole, you could at least accept that now. 

The owner of the hostel had a no-closed-doors rule, which honestly, you felt was a little bit suspicious considering the fact that the bathrooms were also co-ed. But things were different in the city, you figured. Maybe privacy wasn’t such a big deal. 

There were people talking loudly in the hallway, an American couple having an argument that apparently, couldn’t have been held outside or maybe a few hours later. You had to work tonight, and you’d been hoping to get eight hours of sleep for once. 

Rubbing your eyes, you sat up, your head just shy of smacking into the wooden frame of the bed above you. You unplugged your phone, finding two texts from Taehyung, one from your boss, and six from Mark. You opened your brother’s first.

Taehyung [07:04am]: Y/N, it’s been a month already. Stop being a brat and go home. You’ve made your point. Taehyung [07:24am]: At least tell me where you are, please.

You sighed and ran your hand over your face, your eyes falling shut as you tried to push his words out of your mind. He didn’t get it - of course he didn’t. He’d spent his whole life as the star of the family, getting anything and everything he desired. Any dreams he had, he was encouraged to follow them, no matter how crazy they were. Why couldn’t that same kindness extend to you? 

As you always did, you deleted his messages, but not without the usual tinge of guilt. 

You opened your boss’ message next, which was just a photo of your next schedule. A ridiculous amount of hours, but at least you could make up for the money you’d blown on your tattoo. 

Next, you opened Mark’s texts. 

Mark [12:33am]: Y/N, I was serious. That place is a dump and you shouldn’t be staying there Mark [12:35am]: Just come stay with me Mark [12:40am]: Even just for a little while, a couple of weeks Mark [02:03am]: Seriously Mark [02:05am]: I can’t sleep because I’m imagining you being eaten alive by termites Mark [08:03am]: I’m outside. Call me when you wake up

You furrowed your brows, eyes flicking up to the current time. 8:07. He’d only texted you a few minutes ago, then. Hearing your roommate peacefully snoring above you, you slid out of the bed and rushed through the doorway, dodging the couple still going at it in the hallway. 

Once you were in the common area, you called Mark. He picked up right away. 

“Mark, why are you outside?” you asked before he even had a chance to say hello. You couldn’t quite hide the irritation in your voice.

You heard him sigh on the other end. “Are you really asking me that?” 

“I told you, I’m fine.”

You felt a breeze and turned to the front desk, where the owner was standing, his eyes shamelessly roaming your frame. He had a fan pointing directly at you, causing goosebumps to form on your arms and legs. Usually, you slept in more than just a tank top and shorts, but you hadn’t been able to deal with the heat last night. 

“I’m not leaving until you come with me,” Mark said. 

Turning away from the owner, you walked over to the front window, one finger sliding the curtain to the side so that you could peek out. There he was, leaning against his car while he stared up at the building you were in. He looked pissed, which further annoyed you. Why did he care so much?

“I said no,” you told him, your voice as firm as you could make it. Mark rolled his eyes, a subtle smirk to the side of his lips.

“And I’m not accepting no as an answer. Just get your shit and let’s go.” 

You huffed in annoyance, letting the curtain fall closed once more. “Go home, Mark. You’re not my brother.” 

Mark laughed bitterly on the other end. “You’re right, I’m not. Do you want me to call him? ‘Cause I will.”

“No!” you replied quickly, squeezing your eyes shut. “Don’t call him. Please.” 

You were met with silence on the other end for a long moment before Mark replied. “Either you come with me, or I call your brother and tell him you’re staying in an infested hole in the ground. It’s up to you.”

Taking in a shaky breath, you opened your eyes, running your fingers through your hair. You didn’t get why he cared so much, or why he couldn’t just leave you alone and go on with his life. “Fine. Give me twenty minutes.” 

“Ten,” Mark said. “I’m hungry and I don’t feel like waiting that long.”

You rolled your eyes, not granting him a response before you disconnected the call. 

Needless to say, you took your sweet time as you gathered all of your things, tossing them into your duffel bag without any sense of organization. You weren’t quiet, either, figuring it was only fair if your roommate lost a few winks of sleep after all she’d put you through. 

By the time you were walking out the front door to the car, Mark’s lips were set into a deep frown, eyebrows creased as he watched you. 

“Don’t look at me like that. You’re going to get wrinkles,” you told him, tossing your bag into the already opened trunk. “In fact, you probably already have some, old man.”

“The hell are you wearing?” Mark asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You looked down at your clothes. You hadn’t taken the time to change out of your pajamas, simply because you were worried Mark would storm in if you took too long. 

“It was hot last night,” you tried, tugging the hem of your tank top down. Mark scoffed and walked around to the driver’s side of the car, muttering something to himself that you couldn’t catch. 

Once you slid into the passenger’s seat, Mark handed you an iced coffee. It was only slightly melted, and you had to admit, it was just what you needed.

“How did you know I’d come with you?” you asked, taking a sip while Mark turned the key in the ignition. 

“What?” he asked, barely paying attention to you as he pulled out onto the street. 

“You got two coffees. What if I said no?”

Mark glanced over at you, his lips pulled into a cocky smirk. “It wasn’t an option. If you said no, I was going to walk in there and make a scene until you came with me.” 

It was your turn to cross your arms over your chest as you leaned back against the seat. You wanted to ask him why it mattered to him where you were staying, but at the end of the day you knew why he cared. Your mom had taken him under her wing when he was a kid, even if you were too young to remember it. 

Your family had fed and clothed him when his parents were too drugged out to remember they had a child to take care of. In a way, you figured, Mark felt a duty to repay the favor somehow. Or maybe he was just a controlling asshole - you couldn’t be sure. 

“I’m not a kid,” you said under your breath, leaning your head against the cold glass of the window.

Mark didn’t respond, and you had to admit you were grateful. You didn’t need one more person telling you you were too young to know what you wanted, too inexperienced to make your own decisions. That was how you’d gotten into this situation in the first place. 

You finished your coffee by the time Mark pulled up to his apartment building. Compared to the hostel you’d just left, it was practically a five-star hotel. Nothing fancy, but from here you could tell all four exterior walls were in good shape and even that was an upgrade. 

You got out of the car, grabbing your bag from the back seat. Just as you went to follow Mark into the building, he stopped in front of you and turned around. 

“Look, I’m sorry if I was kind of an asshole. I just,” he paused to chew at his lip, scratching the back of his head. “I felt like I had a responsibility. To your family, your parents…”

Mark trailed off and you couldn’t help the guilt you felt in your stomach. You were still a child when Mark was going through the worst of it, but you’d heard enough from eavesdropping on your parents’ conversations to know they quite literally saved his life. 

You swallowed, wanting to reach out, but you resisted. At the end of the day, you hardly knew him, despite the connection you felt. 

“It’s okay. I appreciate that you care… I guess I was just determined to do this on my own. Without anybody’s help,” you admitted. 

Mark lifted his eyes to yours. “Sometimes you need to let people help.”

Like I did. You heard it, unspoken, in his words. Maybe you could have done it on your own, but it would be a hell of a lot easier if you accepted a helping hand from Mark. 

“Fine,” you breathed. “But only for a few weeks. And I’m gonna cook and clean for you to earn my keep.”

Mark laughed as you brushed past him, shaking his head at you. “You don’t have to ask me twice. How about you start with breakfast? I’m still hungry, you know.” 

[tsaritsa]

check my time

firstly; ever write something and be like. oh damn. i wrote that bitch? that's me rn

secondly, this title is taken from rebecca black's friday. shenanigans were had in the royai support group discord in which we were determined to title some fics with that immortal song. come hang with us! it's pretty fun and we only occasionally have so-bad-it's-good ideas like this.

you can also read this over on ao3

--

It is perhaps, unsurprising, that Major Mustang initially believes that it was because of him that she signed up for service. His idyllicism is perhaps the most enduring trait she has to remember him by: a young man, proudly wearing his blues and speaking of the way he would coax the country in a better, grander, position than where it started. His inherent paternalism – and it is that, he wants to make the country into his image and nothing less – is inherited from her own father. He too, believed, understood, proved that he knew the way forward.

It is a bit of a joke now how personally he seems to take this new knowledge – this was not part of his plan. Perhaps he thought he would return after the war, a decorated hero with new depths to those dark eyes and sweep her off her feet like so many of her dorm sisters have been in recent years. What few letters that do make their way to the estate – and subsequently, months later to the front – are notices of marriage, and once, an invitation to attend herself. Laura had been one of the kinder girls, and a small part of Riza that’s been tucked away between the notches on her rifle would’ve liked to see her in white, watched the celebration with a distance that Laura wouldn’t have questioned or assumed was rude.

But Riza is unable to entertain such fantasies. This country would rather look the other way than acknowledge the cost of this war, the amount of people being flung into the sand just to keep the effort justifiable. There are rumours that another train line has been taken out, and necessary supplies that were already months late will now never arrive. It’s a wonder any letters managed to find their way to her at all.

Major Mustang has a peculiar habit of finding her no matter where she is in the encampment. At first, she pegs it down to coincidence, but later it becomes clearer that he is seeking her out in some fashion, even if most times he refuses to engage with her at all. Perhaps he thinks he can protect her in this way, a careful eye watching from a distance. It is laughable. The distance Riza is able to set between herself and any unwanted target easily outstrips his distance for accuracy. She can and will limit her damage. He razes through it all as if the end result is the only thing that matters. Perhaps that’s true. The reality of bending a land, a people, to your will is never as simple as her superiors make it out to be.

Part of her resents this treatment, resents the hovering that the others in her unit have picked up on. They’re snipers, after all. They’re meant to look at the wider picture, notice small, subtle shifts in the landscape. It takes them a little longer to deduce who he’s trying to shadow, but after another few days of watching him not-wander with not-purpose, her spotter nudges her, faintly tilting his head towards 11 o’clock.

“Perhaps he’s never seen a woman with short hair before. I hear he came from Central – fuckwits, the lot of them.”

Her spotter, Dylan, is a stout young man, with a face that had not lost the fat of his youth until very recently. He, like her, was pushed through quickly, at the pleading of higher-ups who were wholly unprepared for their theatres of war. The two of them are well aware of the incompetence that has resulted in their posting. This knowledge is what protects them more than the briefings they receive.

A tense smile pulls at the edges of her lips. “I have the unfortunate pleasure of being acquainted with him. I would hesitate to paint him with the same brush as the soldiers from the last tour though.”

Dylan scoffs, picking at the cervidae meat the cooks managed to scrounge up. It’s probably a sacred animal in these parts. “Does he think you don’t belong here?”

Riza hums. “I think he envisioned a different future for me. I think I’ve ruined the fantasy.”

--

The man introduced to her briefly as Maes Hughes seeks her out some weeks later. He is an interesting man. Riza thinks he is like the prisms that fracted light in her Father’s study: she spies different fragments of him, personalities and idiosyncrasies that layer over one another if you view him just so. He is canny and shrewd, and Riza is not surprised that Major Mustang has made his acquaintance. His ability to seek out power and bend it to suit his whims is perhaps the most crucial thing to understand about him. It does not necessarily matter what the substance of the power is, it only matters in how he can exploit it for his personal use.

“Hawkeye,” Maes Hughes says shortly, deliberately stepping into pace with her as she moves through the camp. She had been seeking some rest. She knows now that that will be difficult to do unless she plays his game.

“Captain Hughes,” she responds, dipping her head in acknowledgment. It is perhaps a little ruder for a greeting than other superiors would allow, but Riza surmises that Maes Hughes doesn’t care much for inane rules and pageantry out here. He is not thriving in this environment, merely surviving like her.

“This isn’t about Roy,” he begins, and Riza appreciates the bluntness. “Well, not from him. But I thought we could talk.”

Riza inclines her head to the outer encampment, the side that overlooks into the valley. It’s never as busy here, particularly in the afternoon as the sun sinks down over the mountains and the desert chill begins to set in. “What about?” She will make him work for this conversation. She is well aware of who could – would – be privy to it.

Hughes is quiet for a moment as he leans against one of the tent poles. “I confess I’m curious about the two of you. Roy is fiercely protective of you. Others are beginning to notice.”

“He’s stubborn like that.”

“Is there a reasonable explanation for his behaviour?”

Part of Riza thinks it would be rather funny to divulge her secrets again. Make his power and devastation inert by granting everyone the same ability that he wields so selfishly, covets even more so. But it’s a passing fancy, a fantasy she’ll never get to fully realise, much like the goals she imagines he had in place for her. Hughes has already played some of his cards by investigating what he’s already identified to be Mustang’s weakest link, and Riza feels it’s only fair to work within the estimation he has already formed of her. She will never let her back be used against her again. Major Mustang put paid to that lesson for her.

“His alchemy apprenticeship was a few houses down from where I lived. There weren’t many young people in the village. We were… acquaintances, I suppose,” she begins, testing the words on her tongue. Dylan hadn’t needed a story to assess Major Mustang. He didn’t need to be convinced of anything he couldn’t already surmise from looking at him.

“Perhaps he was sweet on me; I confess I never paid much attention, as my father was a sick man and required almost all of my attention. It was strange to realise that one of the soldiers I saved was someone I knew –” the parapraxis isn’t lost on her but Hughes’ face is impassive, waiting. Either he was a good listener or what he was suspicious of had not been confirmed so far. “ – Maybe it is strange for him too,” she concludes, rubbing the muscle that connects her thumb to the fleshy part of her palm.

Hughes appears to mull over her words. “He must be very sweet on you, then.” There’s a warning nestled in that sentence, an acknowledgment that he caught her use of tense just as he corrects her on which is the truth – what he knows is the truth.

Riza rolls her shoulders slowly. “I wouldn’t assume to know his feelings on the matter. He hasn’t talked to me since our last meeting. In all honesty, Captain, I don’t think there is much to talk about either. We’re just ghosts in each other’s pasts.”

“He doesn’t treat you like a ghost.”

“My spotter has come to calling him that. He always seems to lingering like some forgotten shade.”

Hughes pushes himself off the tent pole he was leaning against, shoving his hands into his pockets. Riza was right, he is a clever man – knows better than to needle someone continually for information they’re not willing to part with yet. His patience would undoubtedly be tempering some of Major Mustang’s worst impulses. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t approached her again.

“I just felt warning you would be the right thing to do,” he says. “Considering I’m now not alone in my understandings.”

Riza blinks slowly. “Thank you for the warning, Captain Hughes,” she replies. He probably thinks he’s being kind, extending a hand to the young ingénue who’s out of her depth in a horror that’s only halfway done. Maybe Major Mustang had crafted that story for Hughes as well; of his role in this story he still seems to be writing. He is the hero. They are the supporting cast as much as the sand they stand on.

I thought you’d wait for me; he had hissed over the campfire at their first meeting.

I thought you’d help people; she had taunted as the embers sunk into the ash.

[silence-burns]

Please Hate Me //part 32

Fandom: Marvel 

Summary: Based on “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine

There comes a time in one's life when all is said, but still needs to be done, and in a heartbreaking majority of events, it also requires dressing up. 

You watched Loki pull on the ephemeral, golden threads shifting through the air around his face. "You sure it's working?"

"I know how to cast an illusion, darling," he muttered, focused on the mirror. "It's really not that hard."

"I don't see any difference." 

"You're not supposed to. It'll only work on strangers."

"So… We'll only know if it worked when someone screams?" 

"I'm touched by how much trust you put in my skills," Loki sneered, with eyes focused on his jaw. You wondered what the face he was working on looked like. Given the intensity, it must’ve been a work of art. 

Loki sealed the illusion and checked it from every angle. It felt so much better than the shabby mud that monk had plastered onto his face with little finesse. It might've worked against the less intellectual part of the population, but to anyone who had even the slightest knowledge of the high arts, it was no more than a laughable effort. 

Loki smiled, imagining the clash that would follow if the monk and his excuse of a sorcerer met the Asgardian magic wielders. It would be a sight worth paying for. Loki would make sure to get a seat in the front row. 

On the other hand, even he had to admit that the bracelet they came up with was a piece of work that he would never expect to find on Earth. Oh, he would've figured out how to get rid of it eventually, of course. There was no denying that. Loki might've figured it out earlier, if he… wasn't distracted. 

He looked at the source of his distraction in the mirror. It was that moment you found something in one of the pockets of your jacket. 

It was a phone. 

"I knew we forgot about something." 

"Is this…?" 

"That guy's phone. I didn't manage to unlock it in the end. How about we drop it at the precinct on our way?" 

Loki frowned. "Won't your officers be suspicious how we came into its possession?" 

"Not if we magic it in. Anonymously." 

"...that is not how it works." 

In the end, it was precisely how it worked. 

The phone, with a handy little note of explanation, just found itself at the right place, at the right time, without anyone at the precinct noticing. 

You patted Loki's shoulder. "Nice job. I wish you could teach me a few tricks." 

"It's not that easy. Your world barely has any magic, so it's difficult to make it comply with one's wishes," Loki said with a hint of sadness as you both turned and walked up the street in the direction of Peter's school. 

The streets were full of people, busy on their errands. The sun was blinding against the fresh scope of snow. The sky was clear and crystal blue, with the sort of unachievable intensity that almost felt artificial. 

"What is it like on other worlds?" 

Loki sighed. Walking so close to you, he could feel the brush of his arm against yours. His hands remained in his pockets, though. The reason wasn't the cold, of course, since he could barely feel the bite of it. His hands, for reasons beyond understanding, kept getting sweaty no matter how many times he discreetly brushed them against the fabric. 

"Spell casting is… essentially, wishing for something to happen, and convincing the world around you that it can become true. Magic is the means by which the world listens to those brave enough to wish. In your world, there's barely any magic. But there are others, where a mere thought shapes reality."

"Must be cool to see that." 

"It's almost like lying, truth be told. Ancient scholars used to classify it as the same thing, although mostly due to mistakes in translation of the most ancient volumes. Thankfully, I'm skilled in both. It makes life easier."

"Wait...so THAT'S where the whole 'Loki the Prince of Lies' thing comes from? Not that you're a lying, deceptive piece of—" 

"That's quite a touchy topic, you know. I might've… meddled in the lives of some very vengeful individuals, who out of pure, unjustified spite might've decided to curse me a little—... Wait, why are there children."

Loki stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the pavement. 

In front of him, as far he could see, stretched a sea of colorful stalls surrounded by a writhing mass of people, dominated by younglings in all shapes, forms, and levels of noise. 

You looked at him and back at the crowd. "It just kinda happens that this huge building right there is Peter's school. And this very school is organising the science fair for the kids attending it. Who, right now, are taking part in it. Here." 

Loki's frown deepened as he comprehended the mess. Groups seemed to form around the stalls, children and adults alike. It would be difficult for a stranger to guess what was being presented on some of the tables, and indeed, Loki couldn't guess it either. Some seemed to flash chemical reactions aimed to showcase colorful effects, mostly to the entertainment of the youngest offspring roaming freely around. Other tables were filled with equipment that surely took a lot of time to build, and even more to explain. Loki was quick to be bored by those. 

While swallowed by the crowds pressing on from every angle, you called Peter, pressing the phone to your ear close enough to hear him over the overwhelming noise. 

There were attempts at bringing order to the gathering, and some spaces had been less prone to chaos than others. Those, usually, were centered around food. 

"Ooh, I like that too," you said, putting the phone away at last. 

Following Loki's gaze, your eyes fell on the delicious looking snacks. The smell drove you insane and seemed to do the trick on the trickster too. You watched as some kids walked by, chewing on the deliciousness. Then you looked at the queue. A very orderly, and very long queue. 

"Hey, Loki." 

"Yes, darling?" 

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" 

"To my great surprise, I think I might be. Magic truly is a blessing." 

Peter found you not so long afterwards, when you were finishing the second round of magically-brought treats. Of course, you made sure an equivalent amount of cash appeared where it should. You didn't fall so low yet to outright steal from kids. 

"Mr. Mischief!" screamed over the heads of strangers was what caught Loki's attention. And the impact of a teenage body jumping right at him was what squeezed the air out of his lungs. 

"Hello, boy," Loki muttered. You gave him thumbs up. 

"I love the way you smell," Peter pressed his face a little more into the god's chest. 

Loki blinked. "Thank you, boy." 

Peter finally unplastered himself from the god and took the both of you in with such genuine joy that you couldn't stop a smile from spreading on your face. He was dressed up in a spotless shirt he kept tugging on. You whiffed a smell of cologne definitely not suited for his age. 

"Someone's nervous," you teased Peter. "I wonder what would've happened if we forgot your ring… " 

"Please, tell me you didn't!" 

"Of course we didn't." You pulled it out of your pocket. So many happy moments were connected to that ring, you almost missed it already. So much cake… 

Peter immediately tucked it away in the pocket on his chest, glancing around himself. If, by any chance, that one special someone was anywhere near, he wanted to know. 

He noticed you watching him. "I'm not nervous. I'm just cautious." 

"Whatever you say, Peter. It's your call." 

Despite his words, Peter couldn't stay in place. "Come on, guys. I gotta show you my project before we present them all!" 

Going any further into the mass of people was the last thing Loki wanted to do. The day was bright and chilly and the place Peter was leading them to was unmistakably a sports hall where the more ambitious, and temperature-sensitive projects had been placed. 

Loki, theoretically, of course, began wondering how he could disappear without anyone noticing. People got lost all the time and no one made a fuss about it. As much as he might not hate the kid, he wasn't interested much in high school projects of dubious chemical reactions, shown in stuffy, smelly interiors. 

As if you could hear his thoughts, you turned your head to face him. "I hope it works out. He's been working his ass off for the past few weeks to impress MJ." 

Before Loki answered, he noticed your outstretched hand. His heart skipped a beat, and jumped into his throat out of surprise. It was a pure coincidence, and a completely normal, random thing to feel, and there was absolutely nothing behind it…

Your hand was warm and felt right in his own. 

Of course Loki didn't get distracted. He just so happened to miss the moment when you reached Peter's lab table, densely occupied by all manner of gadgets and parts, with the main construction hovering above the rest. 

Peter didn't notice Loki's state. He was focused on all the things that still needed to be put in place or cleaned off the table before the presentation began. 

"It's okay, I've got it all under control," Peter said, hiding a few screws in his pocket. "The teachers are probably going to start with the tables over there, so mine would be second to last, which gives me plenty of time to—" 

Plans are good as long as all the parties involved are aware of them. In Peter's case, the teachers weren't. 

Peter's face went pale when he noticed the commission arriving at the table to his right. His eyes were wide and frozen in utter terror. 

And then he desperately tried to scramble everything together in record time.

You tried to help him, but you had absolutely no idea how. All you could do was watch him panic through the preparations at light speed. Loki squeezed your hand. "The boy will do fine." 

The boy was not so sure. 

He barely noticed when his classmates encircled the table, wishing him good luck and sharing advice that vanished from his head in seconds. 

Despite that, Peter managed to clean his table as much as he could before the teachers neared, with notepads in their hands. They tactfully ignored loose parts laying behind him. 

Loki caressed the back of your hand in a reassuring gesture. You both listened to Peter give the explanation of his project, with his voice wavering only a little. Peter started to go through all the steps he had prepared, pointing out all the important details as things you had no idea about changed on the table. The boy was pale, but did his best during the whole process, and as he moved to present the project, you almost believed he had everything under control. 

He didn't. 

In the moment of the biggest tension, when everyone was waiting for the results, they didn't come. 

There was a second of pure, unfiltered panic on Peter's face. He froze, eyes plastered to the unquestionable lack of any result. 

Your elbow jabbed Loki's ribs. The ribs were slowly getting used to it. 

"Please, help him," you whispered with urgency. 

"What am I supposed to do from here?" Loki frowned. He was tall and could see everything from over people's heads, but it didn't change the fact that there was a row of bodies tightly pressed together between him and the boy. 

"I don't know, magic something up." 

"Magic something—It doesn't work like that!" 

"Then make it. Are you the Prince of Lies or not?" 

Loki frowned, torn between looking at you and Peter at the same time. "Oh, blast it…" 

The results, preferably big and flashy, were what the commission was waiting for. Loki gave them results. 

Peter's eyes went wide when his project, that had been completely silent for the past few seconds, suddenly gave fruit to absolutely outstanding results. They were applauded, scored, and noted with grateful smiles as the commission moved to the next table. 

And completely not what was supposed to happen. 

Peter was still frozen in shock as he got encircled by his classmates, and showered in compliments and questions. The shock was still bright on his face as he was dragged further down the line of tables, to support the next unlucky friend. 

Loki followed the boy with his eyes. It looked like no one had noticed that something was not adding up. Loki had a very general idea of what Peter's project was supposed to do, since the lack of time prevented the boy from showing them the final product of weeks of hard work. He wondered which of the girls around Peter was that MJ. 

"I can't believe it worked," he muttered to himself, lost in thoughts just as Peter got lost in the crowd. 

"Thank you. You did great." 

Loki huffed, but couldn't stop the hint of a smile from ghosting over his lips. He supposed he'd have to answer a lot of questions once the boy was freed and jumped him again, but even that idea didn't feel so bad. It felt good to be appreciated and welcome in places and events that were important to someone. He was strangely glad someone wanted him to be a part of their life. 

Loki's breath caught in his throat as your arm slipped around his waist. A nervous, careful presence hugged him for a second, melting any and all resolve he might've still possessed at that point. 

"You're awesome. Wanna steal some more candy with me again?" your voice asked into his neck that suddenly ran with goosebumps. Accidentally, of course. 

But there was nothing accidental about the way Loki leaned into the hug, welcoming it with a feather-light touch to your back. 

"With you? Always, love."

A/N: Please tell me what do you think about this chapter or the series in general! It’s so sad to see the number of notes and comments decreasing with each new chapter :(

[louiseleblancdiggory]

Once Upon a December

Chapter 3: It’s a Rumor, a Legend, a Mystery!

A/N: This chapter is a little small but has extremely important information, so I didn’t want to write too much and drown out the important parts. Please, if you want to be tagged/I forgot to tag you send me an ask instead of a comment, makes my life so much easier. Hope you all don’t hate this!

Chapter 2 // Chapter 4

Lin couldn’t help but stare at their dynamic.

Despite her initial statement that she had no interest in being close to them, she had to admit that the way they acted around each other gave her a longing feeling. It was the way she had once acted with Lysandra.

Like a family.

Even when discussing what they would do next, if they should leave Orynth immediately or wait a few days, Lin could see how at ease they were around each other. How easy it was for one of them to call the other out, how they kept bickering at each other. Even the ones that looked like complete opposites interacted in the way brothers would.

She was jealous. It was burning hot inside of her and some wretched part of her wanted to scream at them for acting like a loving family when her own family was probably suffering in Inish. She had to bite her tongue several times not to snap at the men.

“I believe that it would be wise to leave as soon as possible, but not tonight.” Gavriel said, always the voice of reason as Lin had quickly realized. He was the oldest one, but his mild behavior was probably what stopped him from being their leader. “It would attract too much attention a group of seven people leaving the capital during the night. You know how the officials are.”

Rowan merely grunted, and that might have been his way of agreement because the matter was settled after it.

“We leave tomorrow, then. Around lunch when it’s not too packed but also not too empty.” Lorcan replied, his arms crossed over his broad shoulders. His midnight black eyes fell upon Lin again and she rolled her eyes when a sneer appeared on his face. “Do you have a passport?”

“Do I look like someone who would have a passport?”

“Your parents never got you one?” His voice was full of suspicion, making Lin roll her eyes again.

“Do I look like someone who has parents?”

“Are you going to answer every single question with another question?”

“Does it bother you?” She asked sweetly, then smiling when Lorcan’s face contorted with anger. She said she would help them, not that she would be pleasant during it. But she also remembered that Lys’s fate depended on these men, so she sighed and added, “I lived my life in an Adarlanian orphanage. They barely bothered giving us names, the idea of an official passport is laughable.”

He nodded, something almost like understanding and empathy shining on his black eyes. “We can get you one. Not an official one, but it will do.” He turned to Gavriel and Rowan. “Go to Faliq and ask for an urgent passport for Lin…”

He looked at her and for the first time, her cheeks heated. “Sirota.”

Most of the kids in the orphanages came knowing their names and surnames. Very rarely an older child needed both a new name and last name, but in those cases they were simply given Sirota as the last name.

An orphan.

In the sense of it all, it was almost being nameless. Kids with the last name Sirota weren’t the kids who had lost everything and went to an orphanage or the ones who had been left there since the beginning. No, these were the kids found when older, the ones who had been abandoned. Problem children, all of them, Clarisse would say. As Lin didn’t remember if her parents had died, she was thrown into that group. Any kid in that piss poor orphanage had a small chance of being adopted, but Sirotas had absolutely zero.

“Moonbeam.” Fenrys said. Lin’s head snapped back to him, and he looked serious for the first time. “Blonde hair and tan skin, we can pass her as our younger sister. No one will believe a girl with the last name Sirota would have a passport, so make her our sister. Lin Moonbeam.”

She was too shocked to form any rational thought, so she only blurted out, “Your last name is fucking Moonbeam?”

Vaughan laughed out loud, and Fenrys gave her a knowing smile. “You weren’t that wrong when you called me wolfie earlier, sis.”

She looked at Connall, but he merely nodded.

And that was that.

———————————

“Which one?”

“What?”

“Which of the cities in the route you need to visit?” Vaughan explained. They were all sitting together in the train station lounging room. No one bothered to approach her, not with six sneering giants hanging around. They all played the role of older brothers just alright— any men or women who looked a little bit too long at Lin was met with the scary stare of her companions.

The cadre, she decided to call them. An easier way to refer to all six at the same time.

When Rowan and Gavriel came back the night before with her new fake passport, they had also brought new clothes for her. Whoever Faliq had been, she was obviously smaller and less curvy than Lin. The linen white shirt was tight around her breasts, and the long and yet simple brown skirt hugged her waist and hips almost uncomfortably. The skirt ended on her ankles, and she tied a thick leather belt around her middle. She was wearing her necklace, but the pendant was hidden inside her blouse.

“What the fuck is the leather thing for?” Fenrys had asked earlier, his brows furrowed.

“It adds form.” Lin answered defensively.

“More?” He replied, faking incredulity. Lin merely flipped him off and went to wait by the castle’s front as the rest of them finished cleaning up. She didn’t tell him that it was also an easy place to store knives and not get caught or hurt. She had two strapped to her right leg and one to her left, but raising the skirt would take too long and putting a knife between her breasts was a stupid idea. Hence the infernal thing around her waist.

“You look like a hot barmaid.” Connall said, being the first one to leave the castle and join her.

She looked him up and down. Grey dress pants, white button down, grey waistcoat and a black coat hanging from his shoulders, Connall looked like…

“You look like the rich brat that would spend hours trying to get the hot barmaid to go home with him.” She replied mildly and he smiled, handing her a leather brown jacket. She shrugged it on, hiding the belt. It was still chilly in Orynth, and the jacket made her feel better. She almost thanked Connall.

Now she was sitting besides Vaughan and Gavriel. The latter was reading a geography book, and Vaughan was just relaxing, asking her questions every now and then. Nothing too personal or invasive, just to kill some time. Lin had the impression that Gav and Vaughan had seated on her side so no one else from the cadre would. It was obvious that the other four didn’t possess Gavriel’s calm or Vaughan’s ability to be civilized.

“Why do you care which city I want to visit?” They had chosen a route with Inish in it, and Lin had almost cried in relief when she saw Lorcan paying for their tickets. There were other several cities in between Orynth and Inish, but Lin couldn’t care less. She was going to see Lysandra in little over a month. That’s all that mattered.

Vaughan shrugged but didn’t stop looking at her. Impulsively, she looked at Fenrys sitting in front of her. “What are you in for?”

“I beg your pardon?”

She rolled her eyes at his tone. “Why are you doing all of this?”

He rested against his seat. His hands rested on top of his stomach and he gave her a lazy smile. “For money, of course.”

She raise an eyebrow at Connall and Lorcan’s direction. Connall was the one who responded while Lorcan nodded. “Same as Fen.”

“Gavriel?” She turned to the older man by her side.

“Money, partially. There’s someone I need to visit in Banjali.” He said calmly, going back to his book.

Lin wisely ignored Rowan, trying to not look at him even though she could feel his gaze burning the left side of her face.

When Aelin turned to Vaughan, he was already watching her. He seemed to hesitate before answering, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Because Connall is going.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion, the frown deepening when she felt all six of them watching her. Fenrys was Connall’s brother, not Vaughan. Unless they were brothers of sort or… Her eyes fell upon the simple silver band on his finger. When she looked at Connall’s hand, a twin band lay there.

Lovers then. That explained why Vaughan watched her suspiciously, as if waiting to see her reaction to his marriage to Connall. She knew that that moment would decide how the rest of their interactions went.

“Being Fenrys’s brother-in-law sounds fucking miserable.” She said flatly. “At least you fell for the nicest Moonbeam.”

Vaughan relaxed and Connall grinned. Fenrys was pouting. “He’s the nicest Moonbeam?”

“He called me hot barmaid. You didn’t. That’s a point for him and none for you.”

“If you wanted me to be a basic asshole, all you had to do was ask, princess.”

For the first time since Lysandra had left the orphanage a year ago, Lin genuinely smiled. It was more of a grin, but it was a good feeling nonetheless. Smiling because someone was jokingly bickering with you.

“Time to dispatch the baggage.” Lorcan announced, standing up. As one, all of them stood up after him, even Lin. He looked directly at her, shaking his head. “During this trip, you are to be as unnoticeable as possible. A 5’8 woman lifting baggage with a bunch of enormous men isn’t exactly inconspicuous. Sit you’re ass down. You,” he pointed at Rowan, “stay with her.”

He turned and left before Rowan could complain. And judging by the look on his face, he was gonna complain a lot.

Alone with him, Lin couldn’t help but analyze his profile. Now that they were in an illuminated place, she could see that his skin was tanned, and that he had a long tattoo that sometimes showed up through his sleeve or the collar of his shirt. She could notice the slope of his mouth, the lines that made up his face. His eyes were of a deep pine green and were watching her as intently as she was watching him. She gave him a lazy smile and he clenched his hands.

“Why do I have the feeling you don’t like me very much, Mr. Whitethorn?”

“I don’t particularly care for you, lady Moonbeam.” His voice was cold and hard as he replied. He used her new surname considering that for the next month or so she was legally a Moonbeam. Well, kind of legally.

“And yet your face almost contorts with anger or disgust when you look at me. That doesn’t sound like indifference to me.” Lin didn’t know why she cared. She had said herself she didn’t want friendship with these men, but something about Rowan’s dislike of her bothered her infinitely.

He crossed his arms, eyes never leaving her face. He looked at her as if she was a puzzle he couldn’t understand and hated himself for even trying. “Have you been staring at me to know my expressions, lady?”

“You do certainly have a pretty face, Whitethorn, so I don’t see the harm at staring.” Her words left her mouth before she could even consider them. They were dripping with sarcasm and venom, and she knew he had picked on the tone when his jaw clenched. Although she liked to believe she was above petty fights, she was also glad to see she could get under Rowan’s skin.

“You enjoy hearing yourself talk, don’t you?”

“Do you enjoy hearing me talk?”

He had already opened his mouth to respond when a woman approached them, her heels clinking on the wooden floor. Slowly, Rowan and Lin tore their gazes from each other to look at the woman now standing by them. She was a pretty thing. Small, pale skin and dark brown curls, she looked like a doll. Her chestnut eyes were going back and forth between Rowan and Lin.

“Rowan.” Was all she said, her accent sounding a little like his but washed down by years living in Terrasen. “Who is this?”

“Lyria.” Was all he said.

Lin just stared at the two of them. The silence got so uncomfortable that she shifted on her seat, careful not to wake Fleetfoot sleeping by her feet.

When she realized Rowan wasn’t on the mood for talking, something Lin felt that was his usual mood, the woman turned to her.

“You are?” She asked, her tone rude and impatient.

“Lin.” She answered, laying her hand on her lap. “And you would be?”

“Lyria. Rowan must have mentioned me before.” Lyria raised her chin, looking down at Lin. The gesture was so Clarisse-like that Lin wanted to get up and beat the pretty girl.

“Actually, no.” She didn’t add that she only knew Rowan for a day. Judging by how Rowan relaxed slightly, it was the correct answer.

“In what can we help you, Lyria?” Rowan sighed, crossing one ankle over the other. If with Lin he seemed secretly enraged, with Lyria he only seemed tired.

“Your Majesty heard that you and your troupe would be leaving the city and asked me to come see if it was true. And why. You know how Maeve can be, especially after she has asked you so many times to join her inner circle.”

“We are going on vacations.” Rowan gave her a fake smile. “To celebrate.”

“And what would you be celebrating?”

“My eighteenth birthday.” Lin butted in and Lyria and Rowan’s head snapped back to her. “It was a few weeks ago but I was visiting my aunt Clarisse in Adarlan so unfortunately we couldn’t celebrate together. The boys were kind enough to give me a belated present. Isn’t that right, Ro?”

He seemed amused. “Yes. Lin has been a friend for a while now and we didn’t want such an important date to go unnoticed.”

Lyria stared at the two of them silently. Lin honestly thought she was going to ask for more information, but the girl merely walked to her side and sat down where Gavriel had been. Rowan’s features were washed in confusion as Lyria got close to Lin’s ear.

“He can’t love anyone.” Lyria whispered, her voice now empathetic and lovely. Lin was so shocked by her words that she couldn’t move. “I know, I’ve been there. There is something always holding Rowan back. Don’t break your heart because of him.”

Lin then looked at Lyria, and for a moment the girl smiled sadly. Only for a second before that cool mask slipped on again. She got up, nodding goodbye to Rowan and looking at Lin one more time. “If you choose to ignore what I said, I hope you are luckier.”

“What did she say?” Rowan asked as Lin stared at Lyria leaving the station. Lin had absolutely no feelings or attraction towards Rowan, but she couldn’t help but be intrigued by what Lyria had said. Couldn’t help but wonder if Rowan was actually incapable of loving or if his relationship with Lyria just hadn’t worked out. She looked back at him, his existence becoming an enigma Lin’s body was aching to understand.

“That you are a miserable fuck.”

Rowan opened his mouth to reply, but he was interrupted again by the rest of the cadre coming back. This time, Fenrys plopped down by her side and put an arm behind her. “Ready to go on an adventure, firedrake?”

She snorted, crossing her arms. “Born ready, wolfie.”

———————————

Rowan hated that dog.

He was usually fine around animals, but Fleetfoot seemed to be a little too similar to her owner and had taken a deep dislike on him. They were in one of their cabins inside the train, and he started putting his luggage on the compartment above the seats. However, when he want to sit down on his spot, the dog remained laying there lazily. He motioned to grab her, but she only growled deeply and he wasn’t on the mood to fight with a dog.

He was too busy thinking about Lyria’s appearance to bother anyways. Rowan had dated her for years during his adolescence. She had been funny and lovely and everything Rowan needed at the time. When she said she started working at the palace, Rowan was genuinely happy that she was finally leaving the streets of Orynth to live in the servant’s quarters. In the beginning, everything was fine, but then she started getting more distant, asking more and more of Rowan as she gave him less and less. And then when she was promoted to Maeve’s little inner circle, dating her became impossible. She was always trying to convince Rowan and the others to join Maeve. Every single one of his friends had their reservations about the conqueror queen on the throne, but Lyria should know that he had many reasons not to join that bitch’s reign. Rowan had no interest in helping the woman who had destroyed his life and the lives of the people he loved. Lyria’s blind loyalty to Maeve and Rowan’s complete hate for her was what finally broke the relationship.

Every now and then Lyria would pop up at the apartment he shared with the other five guys, asking them once more if they wanted to join Maeve’s forces. The answer had always been no, but that didn’t stop her from coming back again and again with the same words. Earlier that day when Lyria looked almost curiously at Lin, his stomach had turned.

Lyria’s appearance had unsettled him, and the presence of the woman he was now forced to sit next to unnerved him to no end. She had a mouth too big and a face too pretty and alluring for her own good. For their good.

Lin was splotched against the leather seat, playing with the little pendant from her necklace. It was small enough that Rowan could barely make out what it was, but it looked like a series of overlapping circles. He knew he should just leave her the hell alone, but he found himself saying, “Stop fidgeting with that thing and sit up straight.” Her eyes turned to him and narrowed, making the gold in the center stand out more. “Remember, you’re a princess.”

His last words were filled with sarcasm and there was no way Lin hadn’t picked up on the tone. “And how do you know what princesses do or don’t do?”

He gave her a sarcastic smile. “I make it my business to know.”

“Oh.” She replied, sitting up straighter. She batted her eyelashes at him and Rowan heard Fenrys and Vaughan coughing. “Rowan, do you really think I’m royalty?”

Her voice was filled with mocking, and Rowan clenched his hands as he replied her sarcasm with sarcasm of his own. “You know I do, Aelin.”

“Then stop bossing me around!” She grunted and turned her face to the windows. He heard the others raising a hand to put over their mouths or simply coughing again to mask their laughter. Even Gav reacted at that, marking something on his little journal with a humorous smile on his face.

“She certainly has a mind of her own.” Lorcan murmured, looking at Rowan.

“Yeah,” Rowan said mildly. “Hate that in a woman.”

Lin turned her face back to him to show him her tongue. He had to bite his own so he wouldn’t imitate the gesture. For fuck’s sake, this woman acted like she was five and made him act as if he was five.

“This is going to be a long month.” Vaughan said, looking as if he had found his new source of entertainment. His arm was around Connall’s shoulders and both men were smiling at Rowan like fiends.

“I think I rather like you, firedrake.” Fen said, earning a middle finger from Lin. At least she didn’t dislike only Rowan.

The thought almost made him smile.

——————————————

Lysandra Ennar hated that pub.

She hated the strong smell of cheap ale, the sweat of the bodies of the people mingling around, the terrible music coming from one of the corners of the room.

She had been here for a year and wasn’t even close to paying her debts. Differently from the orphanage where she would have left at eighteen, here Lysandra had to buy her freedom.

And her freedom costed a fucking lot.

Just thinking about it made her throat constrict, and she had to hold her apron a little bit tightly to keep the tears at bay. She wanted to be enjoying the beginning of summer with Lin in Adarlan. Wanted to be with her best friend while they stole alcohol from carts in the market and then drank their asses off.

She missed Lin greatly. Being taken away from her had been like losing a sister, and everyday Lys planned a way of finding her again even if she still didn’t even know how to free herself.

Her mind was wandering to a place where she and Lin lived in peace. A place where maybe both of them would have normal jobs and would find normal loves, maybe even getting married to them in the future. Lys would be Lin’s maid of honor and Lin would be Lys’s. They would be normal girls living perfectly normal lives.

Her daydream was interrupted by a cloaked man sitting on one of the stools by the bar. Differently from everyone else in this hellhole, this one seemed to have money. Tons of it, judging by the fine material of his cloak and the bejeweled dagger by his side. He sat up straight, and Lys felt his shadowed face analyzing her and then the rest of the room. He shrugged to himself and took off his hood.

Lysandra’s jaw literally fell. She took in the golden hair, the sharp jawline and high cheekbones. She took in the nose and the brows and his mouth. And then her gaze landed on the turquoise and golden eyes watching her.

“Holy fucking shit. What the hell?” She breathed at the man who sat in front of her.

The man who looked so much like Lin that they could be twins.

Tags:

@morganofthewildfire​ @alyx801​ @ladywitchling​ @westofmoon​ @rolltide7​ @queen-of-glass​ @alifletcher2012​ @rattlethestarsdarling​ @rowanisahunk​ @bilkul-sharam-nahi-aati​ @faerie-queen-fireheart​ @sweetlyvillainous​ @chemicha​ @jlinez​ @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato​ @abookishfreak​ @courtofjurdan​ @acourtofglass​ @maastrash​ @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​ 

[theplumsoldier]

THE SZÉKELY [1]

title: fox in the henhouse

summary: count dracula visits your family home in greece and takes a special interest in you (set sometime 1800-ish) also this is just the first part:)

pairing: dracula x reader

word count: 3864

warnings: none

IT WAS THE FIRST time the Count had paid Greece a visit and he was just as enlivened as a shark with the scent of fresh nourishment. The voyage was long, exasperating, really, and it was one on which he would have to meet the requirements of an actual Count, rather than conform to those few obligations keeping a castle himself went hand-in-hand with.

It was a family by the name of Galani who had offered him shelter. They had, in fact, been burdened with the task through the Master’s (that is Basil) vocation, and had figured that given this man was a Count, he came of great wealth. Who would they be to deny expanding the company network and seeing as this man appeared to have taken a lot of interest in the firm late times, he was indeed one to impress.

And it was no secret the Galani’s kept a great manor. With their maids galore and the ever-suspicious butler, Abas, their abode was the most pompous, imperious one on the block and they were the proud inhabitants.

Towering pillars made out the front of the manor, marked with great iron-wrought detail and nearly no wear or the years affected them as they regularly were cleaned to its birth-look. Marble tiles and high ceiling, golden details on the spiral staircase, staff racing to take one's coat before you even could shrug it off. At least that was the case for the Count. He adored the rustic semblance.

To the right looked to be a gallery, some closed doors that no wonder hid a kitchen or perhaps scullery, something that looked like a parlor, and to the left, he was already met with a baroque set-up of a dining area. Howbeit, it was not one to eat at, only for the single display of the vase with yellow tulips that stood upon it. Someone was in a cheerful, daring mood, thought he.

Heavy steps suddenly sounded and pausing his inspection, Dracula turned to the thumping sound until his gaze met that of a man. Stout and tall, almost hovering the Count when they came to shake on greeting, and Dracula would suppose he was around his own age, but that would be laughable. He certainly was in his late fifties and as he bellowed in a fit of laughter of elevation, his Adam’s apple jumped in his throat.

“Count Dracula! What a great pleasure it is to host, may I just say that!”

The Count snickered and wrung the man’s hand tightly. It was clammy. “You may. And what a beautiful home. It’s rare I get to enjoy such grandeur.”

Bar his own house of glory and gore, of course.

“Come! Meet my family!”

And so he did. Two girls—or rather women, were lined up side by side. One with her hair tugged strictly from her face, embracing those features proudly that frankly, Count Dracula could not seem to find much beauty in. The daughter, however, you, now—wow! thought he. He could not keep his eyes off of you and you noticed this, blushing as he came to kiss your hand.

It was sad, you thought. How you were in your late teens and had never before been kissed, not even on the hand, until now. For a moment you thought of whatever silly boy that had snuck into your all-girls private school you had formed somewhat of a crush on just last week. Disregarding those imbeciles, you realized you had just gotten your first kiss from a real man.

“It’s a pleasure finally making your acquaintance,” spoke he and your heart hitched just then. Polite, as well.

“And you as well, sir, my father speaks highly of you. One would think you two were close.”

Count Dracula tilted his head toward Basil, your father, and he nodded proudly, flushing beneath his wrinkled eyes. The Count chuckled and looked back to you, sighing as if though he stood on a stage performing a drama. If you were not there to watch him, you would have pictured him swiping the back of his hand across his forehead as well.

“Alas, I regret to say we are not. I live all the way over in Transylvania. But, I suspect your father and I will bond just fine!”

They did, actually. Albeit it seemed Basil was more into the topics than the Count, who was otherwise preoccupied, sending you flickering – almost naughty if you did not know any better – glances. Your parents appeared to be either unbothered by the sir’s amorous yet wavering examining or simply heedless to the situation. To you that seemed out of the question, considering, right at that moment, your whole world revolved around his lingering, inviting gaze.

It was one of the rare occasions in which you were allowed a glass of wine as well. You could not possibly say no to just one glass, you would not want to come off as a little girl. But when you had your glass it was disclosed that the count did not drink a drop of liquor, or any other liquid (you later found out, over supper) so instead, you watched your fantasies vaporize in a cloud as you sipped the bitter-warm red wine.

Count Dracula confessed just before the main course, that he was guilty of having renourished a while before his arrival and already was satiated. He would not be so rude to retire to his sleeping quarters just yet, so he sat through supper, making conversation.

“What do you think of Greece so far? I’m certain you have had time to catch conversation among us Scots, have you not, Count?”

And the count chuckled as a memory of something bitter-sweet passed his recollection faintly.

“I have indeed. All I can say is your people are very, what’s the word, delectable,” decided he and it went quiet for a moment.

“Delectable” here meaning five-star rated blood but that the Galani’s need not know. And they did not, at least not Basil for he soon cackled a laugh and threw his hand on the table, eyeing the Count generously.

“Delectable indeed! Certainly our women have a great reputation, too!”

The comment made his wife, Evadne, scoff, her face contorting out of shape while you merely kept quiet over your greek cuisine. While the food indeed was delectable, your father revolted you deeply.

To be candid, and he always was, Dracula missed your involvement in the topic which fell Basil in taste. He wanted to hear your voice, so he better could imagine the sound you made when he was looped around your throat—if, no! Now he could not, he would hate to be the one to make a mess of such a pretty young lady. He was supposed to the good guest from afar with great elevating stories of Transylvania, not some brooding vampire in a b-grade meant-to-be-thrilling gothic novel.

When you suddenly did invade a pregnant pause you had his undivided attention.

“How is Transylvania anyway?”

“One big forest, really,” said Count Dracula, skimming a finger along the rim of his water glass which he had not yet drunk a drop of. “But I suppose I’m the wrong person to ask, I don’t often stretch my legs beyond my own pasture.”

“Oh, but you have to tell me something!” pleaded you, putting on a sullen frown. One he could not possibly deny even from across the oak table and he was inclined to believe you be well aware. “I have never been anywhere but little Greece. They say “it takes a lifetime for someone to discover Greece, but it only takes an instant to fall in love with her”, but I swear to you, she’s really not that great.”

“Y/N!” scolded your father, cross of your lowly talk. “Be proud of your country. It is sublime and the history that comes to our ancestry is a tale to be told.”

So he did, of course. Basil would not dare meet a stranger to whom he would not spill his entire life story to as well as the stories of his ancestors. Meanwhile, as Basil got lost in a journey some-hundred years ago, Count Dracula turned to face you, a mock smile splayed clear across his features. Your upbringing and good manners averted you from rolling your eyes at the guest.

The hours rushed by like seconds and the Count retired to his chambers before anyone else. The long trip had worn him out, he said. You thought it strikingly odd how he had all that luggage with him – well really it was only a large body-sized box filled with dirt – when he only was meant to stay with you for a few days before his return to Transylvania.

You were on your second glass of wine and already beginning to feel light-headed, merry even, had it not been for your fatigued body. Your every limp felt heavy while you were ready to throw a ball, it did not quite match up but so it appeared human anatomy was not made to make sense to the average joe.

In the late evening, when supposedly everyone had gone to bed, Count Dracula made his rounds to locate each room, or should he encounter a soul throughout his inspection, “appreciate the architecture”.

He was surprised to see the door to the hosts’ sleeping chambers ajar. What kind of people would sleep with the door wide open when occupying strangers in their own house? Though, he supposed, it makes little difference to leave a door open as opposed to shutting when they already had let evil in.

A few steps later, and he was inside, making out the center of the room.

His eyes look about him. Count Dracula felt like a muzzled fox in a henhouse, for all these treats were on display, neatly lined up. Their necks were displayed, veins pumping blood and after all, blood is lives. He bristled, shivering because he could have none and he knew that, so he brisked up his hunt and shut the door fully.

Next, he was caught mid-transit, the chary butler halting in his tracks. They both ought to be in their beds by this time, so neither could deliver very convincing defends to account for their whereabouts.

As they bid their goodnights, Dracula warily trod down the corridors until he finally heard a humming sound.

The door was barely squeezed open by a centimeter, but little light shone from inside the room and it and your sing-song hailed the Count in.

Carefully, he slid the door open by a few more inches. To his surprise you were not yet in your bed, he knew that for it was the first thing which his eyes caught. His lip twitched up, for he thought it funny, the bed, that is. All that comfort he had noticed humans seemed never to get enough of. Where he lied in a coffin filled with dirt from the Carpathian Mountains. They were complete luxury animals and it was comical to Dracula for natheless of their opulence desires, they always seemed to settle for less.

Next, his eyes landed on your figure. You stood still dressed in your gown, brushing your hair and humming to a tune which felt to your taste. He did not recognize it as a piece he knew, but just then your voice sounded so soft, so angelic and it brought him to wonder if your blood tasted the same. He had no plans of ruining your life with his thirst, he still was quenched from the early morning, but he had a code to always live spontaneously. Never say never, and his smile grew bigger as you brushed your hair from your neck, displaying yourself perfectly for him.

He was both drooling and getting hard at just the sight.

You sat before your vanity table and a few bottles were displayed before you along with the glass of wine from earlier. It was now empty, nearly licked clean and Dracula smiled even bigger, musing over the many ways he could take advantage of the situation.

“Count,” gasped you suddenly, catching him off guard while he thought of the various ways he could take you. Having you against your vanity was one particular he would not mind in the slightest.

“Oh apologies, Miss,” excused he and made the effort to step forward, into the dim lighting. “I was just retreating to my room when I heard a wonderful tune. I hope I am not intruding.”

“No, no–not at all,” slurred you, standing up to make yourself presentable. What he did not know was that you had spent your late drunk hours, making a play of him entering your room with any excuse. You would not have believed it had anyone told you that you would, in fact, receive a personal visit. “I was merely fooling about for a bit, I was going to get ready for bed. Should you not do the same?”

“Yes—” he sunk his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Yes, I should, only I figured I would postpone the act for a while. I don’t sleep well away from my home.”

You smiled and put the sand-colored brush down before you waded a tad closer to him.

“They say home is where the heart is,” said you lovingly, offering him a kind smile and he thought if you too would smile in bliss when he sunk his teeth into you.

He hummed and put his head on tilt. “Do they now?”

Nodding, a small pause ensued.

“I had this whole dream life envisioned when I was little,” spoke you suddenly.

Little, he sucked in his cheek to avoid chuckling. You are little, he thought to himself.

“Tell me about it.”

“First I would get the hell out of here,” said you decisively and his eyebrows bounced at your profanity. The sign of the cross on your neck derided you from speaking in such a manner surely, that much he was certain of escorted your doctrine. He also could understand from your dialogue earlier on that your father was not necessarily a big fan of you leaving the nest. “But I could never do that. I’m destined for nothing greater than this.”

“You do that quite a lot, don’t you? Doubt yourself.”

You shrugged lightly, absorbed in thought.

Your brood was tangible to Dracula and his legs slowly carried himself a bit closer. As if he could only near you but never lay a hand on you, and that repentance showed in his dark eyes, for the sign in the center of your collarbone shunned him.

Dracula made a show of circling around you like a vulture, much like one would when descending on its dead prey. The thought, that you were his prey, struck you and you shuddered.

You took a deep breath like you were preparing yourself to hold your breath, and to your dismay, you dug your grave deeper as you fell deeper for the man. Even his cologne was to die for, its main accords aromatic, fresh, citrus and something you could not quite put your finger on, but whatever the scent, you suddenly grew hot.

“Take off your necklace.”

Bewildered as to why you stilled. Unsure but keenly interested as to what he had in mind, you did as per request and walked to your bed. You hung it from the knob of your closet and turned back to face him.

You had this wild and utterly insane fantasy of where this would go, but that was fantasy and frankly, fantasy cannot be a reality, certainly not yours. Still, with the thought of him kissing you again, this time on your lips, you did not dare look him in the eye.

The Count’s prying gaze could be felt from his several feet away and you grew anxious, trepidation clear in your feet. When your eyes flickered about, you were surprised to see him suddenly turn his back on you.

Had he grown tired of you already?

“Have you heard what they are saying about the heavens?”

Furrowing your brows, you slowly made your way to the bed, taking a seat and keeping one hand on the footboard.

“What are they saying?” asked you, inquisitive.

He stood by the window, watching the night sky as if he could arbitrate all its mysteries right then and there.

“That we are in a system of thousands and thousands of stars—planets. Gas and dust all make up for the galaxy. There could be planets out there, just like ours.”

Now you wondered if he had drunk a bottle all to himself in secrecy.

You grinned softly, feeling the weariness of the day’s adventures take over you. He gave you a funny look and you shook your head, still smiling and looking at the ground like a fool in love. In a way you were, still, it was odd to think you only had known this man for a single day. It suddenly was very hard to think of a time where he was not there. Gosh! You are a fool falling!

The Count pulled the drapes, shunning out the moonlight as the last source of lighting bar the few candles that did put a soft amber-gold light to your room. You gulped and looked down. It suddenly felt a lot smaller, your room.

“That’s absurd,” annunciated you.

His tongue clicked, and you could hear his smirk.

“No, you’re being bigoted, Y/N.”

“I’m being realistic,” corrected you, finding your small voice.

Next, you knew he stood right before you, his shoes toe-to-toe with your bare feet. The lump in your throat was back.

Surely regrettably you forced yourself to finally lookup. And you guessed it. He gazed right back at you.

He brushed your hair aside, exposing your neck to his touch.

“Heavens, you look seraphic.”

You snorted, suddenly feeling bold. As if you had not heard that before. Sometimes it was difficult telling when his bravado came to a halt, and when it was his actual self began.

“Don’t you mean “delectable”?”

He grinned, and you marveled for a moment at his burst of awe.

Earlier on, you had examined hisself and made certain he brandished no wedding band, lest making yourself uncomfortable when you, later on, would imagine him hovering over you. It was odd to think a man of his nobility was without matrimony, but he had admitted to “waiting for the right one” over dinner. Until he stepped into your room, you had thought you would fantasize about him in your dreams but that seemed unlikely as you could not even look him in the eye without blushing.

“Would you kiss me again?”

Pause.

Then he laughed, wandering a few steps back, only to circle himself, then return to meet your front.

“Would you like me to kiss you, dear?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, suddenly feeling very little before this grand man. While he indeed could appear intimidating, he had this warm aura about him which made you want nothing but to throw yourself at him.

“Is that it? On your hand again?”

You stood up, your chest heaving heavily.

“On my lips.”

The Count smiled bigger, his pearly white teeth on perfect display, catching the glimpse of the light and you suddenly became bothered by the tension. He could not put his hands on you quick enough.

“Please,” pleaded you and he tsked entertained, his hand snaking down your side.

“When you ask like that who would I be to deny the missus?”

He watched with hardly hidden delight as your blood pumped hard in your head. His focus lingered on your lips now. Delicately he pressed his lips down on your, pulling you close as possible with a large hand on the back of your neck.

Then he pulled back. While you attempted your best at maintaining normal breathing, the shock wore off. It was not that it was unexpected, simply that it, in fact, had been a wish you had not imagined he would grant you. His gaze trailed along your neck, the curve of your figure in the corset, how your breasts were pressed tight.

You were close enough to feel the warmth roll off his body, his hair so elegantly pushed back like a dark crown, now a single stray string falling unto his forehead and the air was knocked right out of you again.

Your lip wobbled, unsure of what to say as you breathed heavily, a groan escaping your lips as his idle finger dexterously trailed along with the cut of your throat.

You fell back to sit on the bed again, coy eyes lingering at his. He leaned over you and you eagerly pulled his lips back down on your own, feeling the swell of the covers you were supposed to be sleeping under around you.

The Count sucked on your bottom lip, his teeth lightly chafing your lip and you moaned into his mouth, carefully greeting him with your tongue. He could not help but grow harder, needier of your exquisitely luscious moans.

Encouraging you to lie on your back, he pulled your leg up about him and even through the many layers of your exorbitant dress you could feel his hard against you. It was a feeling you had only ever imagined, one you would never have thought you would feel and with a stranger, not to mention, a count.

You shivered and cried into his mouth, gasping at the feel and he could already smell you. Goodness, it was difficult to control himself in your presence. Not that he was doing much to hold back, but it took everything in him not to taste you right on the spot.

“You’re drunk,” whispered he suddenly.

You looked puzzled up to him, wondering why he had stopped.

He then began to scramble to get off of you and you sat right back up, breathing loudly.

“What? No, sir. If you think of my judgment, I’m more than capable of making my own decisions.”

“Oh, I know you are,” responded he. He simply could not handle it any longer. He feared he might lose control, drain you just then and he would hate to ruin something, someone as precious as yourself. “But I ought to return to my own sleeping chambers now. Your parents are just down the hall, dear.”

He was already making his exit.

“I can be quiet!”

Your voice was desperate for more, and he turned, the slyest of all smiles writing itself across his face.

In two long strides, Dracula stood before you in a split second and you gulped down, for his expression was blank. But as he sighed and took your face in his hands, he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

He forced you to look him in the eyes.

“Sleep well, my love.”

And so he left, leaving you with nothing but a lesson on high hopes and wet undergarments.

[kazuzuha]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ part three

part one ; part two ; part four ; ...

this work is protected by copyright. copyright © kazuzuha ™ 2021

It took me another two years to find a new goal and remember my past one - the latter being that of me exploring the world, meeting new people, seeing the archons, eating new foods, feeling the wind of the highest mountains in Teyvat...

Interestingly, this goal that I had forgotten coincided with the one I had now; running away.

That was all I had in mind in the time gone by, all that truly kept me breathing in that suffocating place. My own mindset was an opposition to my mother’s, her traditional perfectionism trying to mold me into someone flawless, yet, not better than her. My own set of unbearably high standards wore me down, then were further pushed by her hand which ignored the fact that our pressures came from the same place. But I knew. I knew. 

It was at fifteen that I fully understood that knowing you are in an unhealthy situation does not call upon the Archons to help. 

Father was not around, busy with climbing ranks and taming the snowstorms. If he knew of my ambition, he would have agreed to that marriage proposal I had been given years ago, suspiciously immediately after the Tsaritsa’s interest in me was expressed. It was not that my father did not love or care for me; the opposite stood true. However, he was unaware of how deeply the mental scars inflicted by my mother ran. She was a good wife, a great wife for a Snezhnayan especially. But she was not a good mother. All I had tried to explain, he had already known of, but from a completely different perspective; words convoluted, actions exaggerated - after years of hearing second-hand stories about his child, his image of me became exactly what my mother intended. Therefore, hoping and begging for his help would be redundant. I had to get away on my own two feet.

That being said, I still needed outside help and financial freedom. I made acquaintances amongst my peers, though being taken into a circle of Snezhnayan kids was a difficult task; due to my family’s high standing and my mother’s foreignity, I was either avoided or sneered at. No one dared say much, but those that did were not speaking in welcome. The odds would be stately against my success, if it were not for my observance. Most children were homeschooled and the only way to meet others my age was at a very occasional party or in organised training. There were certain aspects that I saw were well accepted in their eyes; strength, resilience, beauty and charm. I trained in strength, my mind forced resilience, the beauty and charm part could be subsistuted by wealth and social standing. It should have worked. Unfortunately, I did not consider my gender.

After beating a boy twice my size in combat, I was not revered as I had previously expected. I was not suddenly accepted into a friend group, was not offered the bitter alcohol they hid under their shirts. I was a foreign girl they could not touch, could not win against. And that pissed them off. The spreading of rumours seemed like a simple childish act at first, but the way people began to view me was set in stone before they even met me, painting me as unattainable, arrogant. A sense of déjà vu made me realise that I was once again losing an exit out of this place. But I was a quick learner.

Instead of my peers at the training grounds, I looked elsewhere. Tagging along with my father under the pretense of learning his strategies, donning my most modest dresses and tint on my lips, I met the younglings of aristocracy. They recognised my situation as their own, shunned for being better than everyone else. The mindset of superiority deeply ingrained in their small heads made it laughably easy to appease them and get piles of information that I made sure to memorize. My graceful actions, soft-spoken words and dainty visuals… all crafted to fit the perfect standard of a young girl beloved by the Tsaritsa. 

Manipulation was effortless to replicate and after shedding a false tear over an acquaintance’s loss of a parent, the apprehension of the lack of my care about using others sent shudders down my spine. I hated it. I hated being forced to do the same I had been an object of. Most of all, I was horrified by how good I was at it. A secret account provided by a lovesick fool who turned out to be the son of the main manager of our biggest bank. Five sources of income through illegal trade business from Fontaine. A shy girl who wished for one good friend, the daughter of the biggest weaponry corporation, owning over fifty industrial factories in Snezhnaya alone. In less than two years, I was the biggest shareholder of two major companies. 

All I needed was a good public reason to leave and never come back - if I had run away in the middle of the night, the powerful people around me would send hundreds behind me without a second thought. The only ones who can facilely leave are the Fatui - Tsaritsa’s dogs - and, of course, her Harbingers. I have seen my fair share of Fatui, especially when I was still dealing with the mess that was the illegal trading with Fontaine’s machinery. They were soldiers, but they were also people; until you gave them enough power to be drunk on. As for the Harbingers, two of them I had met on multiple occasions; the man I had momentarily seen at Tsaritsa’s side on that balcony was presented as Dottore, or Doctor, though his unhinged expressions pointed to him being a rabid predator, not a healer. He was a shadow; never seen, but always… there. The second Harbinger was my father’s old acquaintance known by the title La Signora, or more favourably, The Fair Lady. As a visionless female aristocrat, I was expected to marry quickly and provide many future soldiers to the armies of Snezhnaya. When I was younger I did not understand the disgust and abhorrence I felt at the thought of my set future. Without dreams, I only wandered. It was not surprising that I began to look up to the notoriously powerful Signora, especially since the silver shade in our eyes was of the same empty shine. Fascinated by her bold disobedience of our land’s customs, I caught myself imitating her walk; young and impressionable, sure, but I also knew that without a Vision, I would never be able to stride as freely as she could. 

That is why I spent so much energy and time on getting Mora. In complete honesty, I could have left Snezhnaya a year into my socialisation. In only a few months, I had enough financial security to start a business in the faraway Liyue which flourished past my expectations. Despite resigning myself to using others, the human mind sometimes cannot help but create bonds of affection to others and so, after the first time hearing “comrade” or the late-night conversations with a painfully vulnerable and lonely teenager, I could not help but want to stay longer, although merely subconsciously. I began finding reasons to stay; perhaps visiting Liyue to oversee my business after a scandal was not a good enough plan to leave, perhaps I should save just a bit more before I go on a long journey, what if the branch deal suddenly fails, I need to manage this project myself… The excuses piled up, my very few friendships strengthened and then, I thought; living here for the rest of my life would not be the worst. This idea was proven wrong time and time again, the glares like daggers in my back, enviness of others putting poison in my cups, the bloody display of the rare bunny I was gifted by a prominent and popular merchant, my mother’s slap at the word “Liyue” leaving my mouth.

I was woken up by news of the forgotten childhood marriage proposal being reconsidered.

“My clever girl is all grown up now!” my father spoke loudly, his fork sounding on the golden plate as the guests around him followed his proud tone with interest. Turning to his closest comrade, another one of Tsaritsa’s most trusted, he spoke as if confiding a secret though all invitees could hear him clearly: “Nobody is ever going to be good enough for my dove, but I’m considering accepting that proposal. They’d make a good match, both of their heads full of coins.”

Booming laughter ensued as my smile froze on my lips. He had never discussed this with me beforehand, so why now?

As if he had read my thoughts, Father’s eyes found mine, his bright and naive, sure that I would simply go with it as I had with everything until now. I decided to keep the illusion intact and made myself smile wider. 

“Girlie that plays with coins, hah! If that’s what he needs to tie him down, I’d get on my knees myself,” the other man spoke, raising his glass towards me and eliciting another round of hollers. 

Not one to stay quiet in rage, I spoke with a light, pretty tone: “Sorry to say this old man, but I’d prefer for the man to kneel down for my hand himself. Your legs might just give out from how long you’d have to be begging on the ground for him.”

The hidden jab of my not even knowing who the man proposing was went past their ears.

“As expected!” the man yelled over the ear-wrenching laughter, slapping my grinning father on the back, while another man, whom I recognised as my only female friend’s absentee parent, spoke up; “She’s really your kid, through and through. Shame you didn’t make a boy, too, with that spunk he’d be one of Tsaritsa’s best warriors by now.”

“No kid of mine would be any good as a soldier,” Father countered, the alcohol in his glass disappearing. “Us Silvers use our heads.”

After he playfully headbutts his comrade, the conversation moves elsewhere and I take my leave. Again, I find myself on the balcony, heaving deep breaths, desperately trying to calm my racing pulse. Vaguely, I think about my wild expression and how others would react if they chanced upon me at this moment, but my unbearable fear does not allow for a stoic attitude. 

Ah, right, I wanted to run away.

It is needless to say that I got my plans in order just that night.

I only let my closest friends know of the finality of my departure, sent a personal letter to the Tsaritsa and prepared an entourage of people who wanted to permanently leave Snezhnaya as well.

Tsaritsa’s reply was swift and curt; a permit to leave for business. There was not any mention of a permit to return, but that was exactly what I had been looking for.

I mentioned my journey East to my parents at a rare shared dinner, as if passing news. My mother would have dragged me by my hair if we had been alone; having my father present was imperative. With my mother’s forced silence, I explained that, due to the scandal - which I had painstakingly created myself - I wanted to take charge of the business in Liyue Harbour for three months until I found a capable enough manager to take over the decision-making.

“It is unsavory for women to make the main decisions in a business,” I sighed, massaging the side of my head as if troubled by this gravely. My father nodded, sympathetically, while my mother coldly glared at my theatrics. It was not her that I needed to convince, anyway; she would follow whatever her husband decided. Holding Father’s hand, a physical contact of seldom, I continued: “I want to get this over with quickly, that is why I am going myself. After all, the marriage should not be put off for too long, should it? You told me a few days ago that you wanted a grandson, after all.”

I left three days after that.

The tearful farewells were done in secret, only polite nods were given in the public eye. More people have come to bid me a good journey than I would have expected, my ties reaching further than those of the usual Snezhnayan. I decided to speed up my leave before anyone else could notice.

White mountains and the creaking of snow beneath the heavy feet slowly turned into browns and greens and sloshes of mud. We stayed the night at a guesthouse in Fontaine, the waterfalls washing away the prints of our path. I wished I could have run away immediately, but arriving at the Liyue headquarters was a necessary evil to maintain our facade; if we did not send word, it would have been no different from an escape without planning. 

The warm water felt wonderful against my cold skin, accustomed to the harsh weather of the land of Cryo. It was a few hours after sunset and only the sounds of nocturnal butterflies were present. The unchanging moon shone down, reflecting its light into the lake, its shape sometimes a copy, sometimes a caricature. 

TBA

[writerfangirlbooks]

Demon in Love part 1

Crowley x Reader

Prompt: Imagine Crowley meeting Dean and Sam's sister for the first time and falling in love at first sight. Part 1!

Word Count: about 1300

Credit to gif owner!

Being a female Winchester was not easy, in the slightest. It was basically a miracle you existed in the first place. You had a grandfather on your mother's side that was still living, but your mother was locked up. Your father, on the other hand, you didn't know much about as he had died before you were drawn into the supernatural world. You met your half-brothers and after a while, the three of you were really a family. You were a nice addition, helping out with research and kicking ass. It was strange being the youngest but being the most mature out of the three of you. You had heard of another brother, but he was a story from a time years before you stumbled into the strange world of hunting. 

Another aspect that separated you from the boys was your focus on self-care. You knew hunters had a shorter life span, so you wanted to look good while you were around. That meant routine trips to the mall and nail salon. It wasn't that hard to wield a knife with acrylics. Or to have good aim through sharp eyeliner and heavy eyeshadow. You liked to think your highlight was a fresh addition to the element of surprise when destroying monsters. Sure, you got dirty, but there's nothing wrong with an edgy and rugged look as well as glam and glitz. If being stylish was what you were known for in your family, you would gladly accept it. 

However, you had learned to love your brothers. It was a difficult trial to try to accept each other when you first realized you had similar genes. You feared stubbornness would be too big a factor to allow the three of you to work together. Fortunately, you proved that you could be a trustworthy and helpful edition. It had taken months of back and forth but you believed that you now had an unbreakable bond. 

Speaking of breaking, there was a crash from another room in the Bunker. You jumped away from your desk, grabbing your knife and running towards the sound in designer combat boots. So much for a quiet afternoon to yourself and your thoughts. 

"Who the hell are you?" You demanded. An attractive, somewhat older well-dressed man stood in one of your research rooms. Surprisingly, you did not sense an immediate threat, although you were worried that your brothers weren't here. Was it possible the crash came from another room? Well, yes, because there were hundreds of rooms and this was the closest. 

The man turned around, also surprised. He had an answer prepared but it died at his lips when his dark eyes took you in from your boots to your dark and ripped jeans, to your striped sweater and leather jacket. You took the opportunity to admire his outfit as well while still focusing on the fact that you had the advantage if this became a fight since you were closer to the door. The stranger lifted his hands to show no obvious weapons. 

"Hello, darling. The name's Crowley. And who might you be, lovely?" There was the tiniest of smiles you could barely make out from the distance as he spoke. Crowley slowly stepped towards you, still posing no potential harm. 

You were tempted to give a variety of sarcastic answers. You took yourself by surprise when you even thought of a few flirty responses. You did your best to relieve your senses and focus on whatever your priorities were while still holding your knife high. "Were you the cause of the crash?"

His hands were back down at his side, apparently wanting to have a casual conversation. "I'm afraid not, dear one, but I'm sure you will find out momentarily. Now would you offer me a name?"

You pondered if you should trust him with this. Yeah, you were already overthinking about a conversation with a guy you just met. Most strangers you interact with tend to be monsters, so you weren't sure why this felt different. You decided to test Crowley by offering him a name that wasn't truly yours, but one that you often went by. "The only name that's important is Winchester." 

Now only a few feet away, Crowley paused. You did your best to study any changes in his behavior, such as his slight eyebrow raise. "Well, I'm certain neither Moose nor Squirrel are married. Are you telling me it's possible they have a sister and failed to ever mention it?" 

Okay, so he knows Sam and Dean. That's a start. Think this through, Y/N. If he's met with them multiple times, that means they have to be at least acquaintances, right? But what was with those very strange yet shockingly accurate nicknames? Answers, you needed answers. You were still struggling with finding out the cause of the crash and interrogating Crowley. Your mind was running quickly. Don't get distracted kept repeating in your head. You knew it could happen easily so it was probably best to get out of this situation before the potential turn for the worst. 

"Yeah, let's go with that. Who are you, Crowley, and why are you here?" You remained staring at him with a steady, serious face that you had mastered over the years. It worked especially well in situations where you were not meant to laugh. His smile grew and you sensed sincerity behind it, an action you weren't used to from men besides your brothers. He might not be human. Thanks, mind, for the reminder. 

"I truly would like to tell you, darling Winchester, but I'm afraid that would not work out in my best interest at the moment. That's a pretty knife you got there," said Crowley. 

Crowley eyed the weapon carefully, still giving no indication of fear. There was no way the two of you could continue just standing and staring at one another giving short answers for much longer. For better or worse, there was another crash from nearby. You squinted suspiciously at Crowley before instructing him to remain where he was, slamming the door behind you before you took off to the noise. Sam and Dean were in their new 'man cave' standing in front of the tv screen with chairs kicked over as they cussed and yelled at the screen. You could not even form the words to express how ridiculous the pair appeared, trying to box each other by holding a remote and swinging it back and forth. Sam was the first to notice you and quickly paused their game. Their t-shirts were forming sweat stains from how intense they had become in this. They flashed guilty smiles. 

"You're joking. This is what the crash was? I thought you two idiots were in trouble!" You stammered. You took a few breaths, realizing how worried you actually had been. Dean was in comedian mode. "Aw, thanks for the concern. Although it took you a while to get here if something had been going on," he noted.

"About that-" You would have jumped out of your skin if it had been possible. Crowley was behind you in the doorway. "Hello, boys." 

Sam turned his remote towards Crowley as if it was an actual weapon, making this whole scene that much more laughable, before realizing what he was doing and lowered it. Dean let out an exasperated sigh and set down his remote. "Crowley, what do you want?" 

You side-stepped into the room further to allow him more into the room. "My initial reason is no longer important. The two of you have kept quite the secret from me and I'm disappointed." He turned to you. "Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner tomorrow night?"

[chaos-ground-writing]

Intentions

Look… he’s a little confused but he’s got spirit

Warnings: minor animal injury, stalking(?), kidnapping, no yandere themes, Kiri has good intentions but bad execution. Also, this fic is pretty long lol

Reader: Gender Neutral

~

(Y/N) was a simple witch living in a nice lil’ cottage in the middle of a lovely meadow. They could hear the stream flowing nearby, the bustle of wildlife, and even greater was the lack of people. No one to steal, to lie, to interrupt and it was wonderful. Don’t get them wrong, it could be quite lonely in the middle of nowhere but small talk with a shopkeep while they purchased things needed around the house was enough. (Y/N) hadn’t even tried to entertain the idea of a lover, it was too troublesome and any person they had tried to court, hated their hermit lifestyle, that was if they even got passed the idea of them being a witch. But, it was their loss and (Y/N) stopped caring a long time ago anyway.

Now, when (Y/N) started to feel a distinct presence watching them while they harvested materials for their upcoming spell, they were only a little concerned. They were used to birds, rabbits, even full grown deer watching them from a safe spot far away, but this stare almost felt predatory, like a wolf, maybe a bear, what if it was a bandit? (Y/N) carefully but quickly collected the rest of the ingredients while keeping a careful eye out for any suspicious activity and swiftly stepped back into their home. Maybe a protection circle around their home would ease their nerves, but if it was a wolf or something, it would have lost interest and they’d have no need to waste their energy, but… that presence they felt… it didn’t even feel malicious, just determined but a little skittish. Like a young predator hunting without its mother for the first time. If it is a hungry animal, they had nothing to worry about, it has probably learned that this is not a good hunting area and would move on.

Eijiro’s eyes softened in disappointment when the attractive person in the field left his sight. He felt bad for using his hunting instincts to hide from them but not many people were very welcoming to dragons, even when he was in his humanoid form, the teeth and tail were enough of a give away to his true identity. But this person was so gorgeous and clearly had to be a witch, witches tended to be more open minded toward him. That one nice witch with the pink cheeks gave him snacks and played with him! Oh, if this witch is anything like her, he’d be the happiest dragon on the mountain. Eijiro gathered some pretty flowers nearby and started back toward his cave and determined that he had to prepare a nest for their arrival, of course he’d only work on it after he spent time admiring them from afar and collecting courting gifts.

For the next few days, Eijiro continued to watch (Y/N) and (Y/N) slowly became used to it, if the presence wanted to harm them, they would have done it already. But they noticed that since they started feeling the presence watching them, they also started finding gifts. They found sparkly stones on their porch, rare flowers on their windowsill, they even found a hand weaved basket of bread, different meats, and potatoes on the edge of the meadow. (Y/N) was sure it wasn’t a person watching them but an animal clearly couldn’t weave a basket and leave cut meats and bread in it. Despite their confusion, (Y/N) still appreciated the gifts and displayed the rocks and flowers proudly. The gifts continued for a few weeks, (Y/N) had to build a shelf to make room for all of them. All of a sudden, the gifts stopped, (Y/N) stopped feeling the eyes on them. They were a bit sad but tried to carry on as normal and prayed that the individual was safe and would return soon. 

(Y/N) traveled a little further from home to gather special ingredients for their favorite soup, just to get their mind of the mysterious entity, but still secretly hoped they’d feel the familiar stare. While lost in thought, (Y/N) cut their hand trying to harvest a tough herb. Before they could assess the bleeding, they heard a deep growl come from the trees. They looked up but didn’t immediately see danger, just every bird, squirrel, and forest dwelling animal nearby running away from the source of the growl. (Y/N) didn’t take a second further to question the purpose and trusted the animals’ instincts and ran back toward their home as fast as they could, abandoning the already collected ingredients in the gifted wicker basket they loved. (Y/N) heard a loud yelp behind them, but the thundering steps that continued in their direction kept them from slowing down or looking back. (Y/N) couldn’t help the tears blurring their vision as they tried to find home, were they crying because they could possibly die a painful death today or was it because they would die never knowing who watched them from the tree line and if they were okay. The burning in (Y/N)’s lungs begged them to stop but they couldn’t, they had to live to find that mysterious stranger, it was laughable, the ultimate introverted hermit, living for someone else. Just as (Y/N) started making out the outline of their home, their overjoyed haste caused them to trip. One thing was definite after that, they fainted, but was it before or after they felt something bite into their outer coat.

A few hours later

“God, that was a terrible nightma-” The ache in (Y/N)’s hand, the unfamiliar bedding under that aching hand, and the strange chill in the surrounding area immediately told (Y/N) that the nightmare they experienced was no nightmare, but reality. They hesitated to open their eyes for a moment, when they did, they were unsurprisingly unfamiliar with where they had just woken up. They were in some kind of large cave, surrounded by furs, precious crystals, gold, and other miscellaneous shiny objects. They were pulled from their thoughts but a deep rumbling snore at the entrance of the cave, however the fire was not close enough to highlight the large silhouette that laid across the opening. (Y/N) carefully got up and approached the large body at the entrance and couldn’t stop the surprised noise they made when they realized it was a dragon. They fell back on their butt and the dragon slowly woke up and looked back at them.

“H-Hey buddy, let’s not do anything hasty,” (Y/N) slowly scooted further from the crimson beast. The beast scooted across the stone floor trying to close the growing space with puppy-like eyes. (Y/N) tried to hold their hand out to keep some kind of distance and noticed the bandage wrapped around the hand they cut earlier.

“Wait, did you do this?” (Y/N) couldn’t begin to imagine how a giant lizard with wings could wrap their much smaller hand, yet the dragon… nodded? The dragon looked at (Y/N) and started moving it’s head in a circular, almost like it was telling them to turn around.

“You, you want me to t-turn around?” The dragon nodded again, and (Y/N) complied. Well, at least they won’t see the death coming. Suddenly, they were a bunch of crunching and cracking noises, like someone was breaking multiple bones, one after another. (Y/N) went to turn back around but the dragon let out a warning growl, causing them to stop and continue facing away from the beast. That growl sounded familiar, and so did the feeling of those ruby eyes on (Y/N)’s figure. Wait a minute…

“Hey, you can turn around now,” A raspy yet sheepish voice called out. (Y/N) turned around and took in the young man’s spiky red hair, matching red eyes, sharp teeth peaking through his lips, and his well built body, as well as the wrinkled pants he hastily threw on that he didn’t adjust over his large tail. Despite his striking appearance, he was almost cowering in front of them.

“Have you been the one watching me?” (Y/N) couldn’t help but blurt out the question, they needed answers, the red head’s face changed to utter surprise.

“H-How did you know that I was there?” Kirishima was baffled and slightly insulted, he thought he was perfectly hidden.

“I’m a witch that lives alone in the middle of nowhere, you silly lizard, I have to be very observant and aware of my surroundings.” (Y/N) chastised, now they were both offended. “Now what I want to know is why you kidnapped me”

“Kidnapped? I rescued you! You were gonna be eaten by that mean old wolf if I hadn’t stepped in, and you were injured! I didn’t even want to bring you back here until the nest was done but I had to.” Kirishima got closer to (Y/N) as they cocked their neck back. (Well now we know what made that yelp noise.)

“Wolf? Injured? I was just gathering ingredients for my soup and got a little cut on my hand, I could’ve out ran some lousy wolf.” (Y/N) huffed.

“Jeez, you sound like Bakugo” Eijiro muttered. “If I hadn’t swatted that wolf away, it would’ve devoured you when you tripped.” Hm, maybe he was right. “And I couldn’t let that happen, especially before I court you properly.” Court?

“Wait, those were courting gifts?” (Y/N) asked, exasperated.

“Yes, I didn’t give them to you directly because I was afraid of how you’d react to a dragon asking for your hand so I thought I’d leave small things to prepare you for all this.” He motioned to the furs, gems, and other gifts. “Oh, and I went back to get the basket you dropped, I’m honestly flustered that you carried it around, I didn’t think it was that well made, my momma taught me how to weave a long time ago.” Kirishima rambled.

“Oh, goodness, I didn’t realize you were trying to court me, I feel so bad. I don’t even know your name.” (Y/N) exclaimed and facepalmed.

“Ha! That’s ok, I should be embarrassed too, I went through all this and watched you for so long and I don’t know yours either. I’m Eijiro Kirishima, and you?”

“(Y/F/N) (Y/L/N). And… I happily accept your courting gifts.”

~

I went a little overboard with this one but it was so fun to write!

Thanks for reading!

(Gif not mine)

[theelliottsmiths]

So anyway, Mein Herz Brennt Making of liveblog, one of my favourites

First of all, I do take any use of piano MHB as a slight towards my tiny hands. -1 point

I really would love to visit this place, it's beautiful

I love that Oli introduces it and then Till is straight in there talking about murder and stabbings. Trust that to be what intrigues him. I feel like 'smells like murder' isn't a direct translation but that's purely because I spent like ten minutes trying to work out what words he says. It rhymes, which is suspicious.

Oh this was before he let his chest piercing reject all the way out in the grossest way

When schneider says Krankenhaus it sounds very Geordie and I'm convinced that kind of thing is why Auf Wiedersehen, Pet was created

Richards eyes light up when he's talking about the room he's in and it's one of those looks where it's just. I would love to listen to anything anyone has to say when their eyes have that sparkle.

"the scavengers had already been here" cue Paul talking about his criminal past thieving from there. See, another example everyone forgets of him being the biggest bastard of them all. The smile is a front.

One of my favourite ever Rammstein things is the combined joy and mockery from Paul when Richard is revealed to be wearing the bird mask and it wiggles as he nods. He looks like a little black cockatoo. Richard looks embarrassed to be wearing it but Paul is having the time of his LIFE.

The way is echoes in his mask makes him sound like he's clucking

Flakes glasses perching in his cone make him look like that sesame Street doctor or scientist

They all suit this make up so much and I wish they'd consider it as a stage look

Peck. Not intimidated.

Considering the nightmares Till has/had, ouch

Richard looks so much like a little vampire prince but like, a character from what we do in the shadows. He makes his own smokescreen entry/exist and everything.

Melanie!!!

Richard has many tendons in his neck huh.

The sounddd. I used to always be curious as to whether or not people in music videos were making the sounds it looks like they're making and now I know and I'm uncomfortable. This and also later when till does the heart

His laugh is never what I expect it to be

That uh. That doesn't look like he's in pain the way the injection sounds implied. At all. Not that I'm complaining but it gives mixed messages.

I'm so sure Richard is the only one I've ever heard use the word quasi. It makes sense for him if true but maybe I only notice because of the tone he uses? His is quite a punchy nasal tone it might just be more noticeable.

Till with kids is always the most adorable wonderful thing. He's really helping to keep them relaxed despite the creepiness of the stuff they're shooting.

"if you look at the cover then you'll recognise a morbidity to the whole thing" till, my darling, do you think people don't already ~see the morbidity~?

I googled and the lady doesn't pronounce renaissance with a g like Till does and that interests me. In fairness I have to assume it's like in Norwegian how words like restaurant are pronounced with a g sound because it's closer to the French sounds? It's not like we in English donut the French way either but the Google translate lady does. This is why I always suspect that when I'm learning a language I'm learning the language wrong and at some point I'll find out there's a Real, For Adults version if the language that's totally different. This is irrelevant. Accents are fun and I like being able to notice them.

It feels so strange seeing this knowing what Eugenio did

Paul taking pictures because he knows better than them

Something about a child saying "ah yes, I know Till and Flake very well" is hysterical.

You can feel the dismay and disapproval radiating off till as he tries to be diplomatic about the Spanish understanding of linear time. He struggles to find a positive and only comes up with the fire walls. "It should have gone out before we filmed anything because they were fucking around with the playback so long but it didn't" is his only compliment.

The German word for French is wild.

Do they know they could have hired an interpreter? Interpreters existed in 2012 I know this

This whole thing with Melanie is beautiful you can't deny that the arm Eugenio made with then was lovely.

Till in the dress with Melanie in his lap. I don't off the top of my head remember seeing it in either video so I simply must assume that it was just what he was wearing that day when he showed up. She's so tiny on his knee I'm glad they're still friends.

"you're left in a state of trauma when everyone stares at you all the time" did this need to get so heavy? It's interesting that he focused more on her voice than her appearance there, though in fairness it's pretty high

They all love her so much and it's totally understandable.

Mit rock n roll und cola trinken

I have to skip the screaming the secondhand embarrassment is too much.

Part 2

Again, this liveblog is so long

Sometimes Oli speaks like his body isn't used to talking.

I want, so badly, to know if Richard was having memories of his dreadlocked youth The tiny cup in his elegant hand is so pleading and then you look left and. It sure is something.

Are they freckles or acne scars across Tills shoulders?...cute. The first set of arm/chest wounds, not so much. I do spy his lil tummy scar

Richard does look like he almost swooped in for a kiss and then changed his mind because of the camera. Paul turns his head that way and then Richard tries to save with a step back and face rub (his own). Just saying.

The fact that a few of them have taken pictures on their personal phones warms my soul it's such a nice reminder that they're good friends outside of work and My Heart

Schneider and Paul ready at a moment's notice to be Dumbasses. J'adore.

What if Zoran was more of a background character tho actually

God, schneider is beautiful. An ethereal, pure beauty that exists no matter how he's being styled.

See okay how is flake almost taller than Oli right now he's not even doing his standard open legs and swan spine thing

It must be so hard to find Oli sized clothes. Flake is also tall and slim but he's a lot more leg, whereas Olis height seems largely to be torso. I have to assume a lot of his stuff is tailored or custom made now.

I always forget about the marks on tills back when he's in the nightmare dress

The child staring with great confusion at a bright red flake reading. I would love to know what his favourite books are.

The childs plural poking and prodding at a very patient Oli, who gracefully bends his spine in ways I've never seen a human do before. I wonder if he's ever dressed up as Lurch from the Addams family.

The actress playing the woman in this half is so beautiful and has a power her younger counterpart lacked when she was threatening him with her weapon.

I am a dummy and was like weird why is Paul speaking Norwegian. I know full well he wasn't saying unnskyld because I've heard Germans say their equivalent before and I assume Entschuldigen either sounds like that fast or shortens so what the fuck, rhi

Till guiding people through him murdering them is truly one of life's greatest pleasures. They trust him so completely. I would like to watch them dance the elegance would be astounding.

Paul lurking watching with what I choose to see as pride as till slaughters an old woman.

Paul being critical (again, as always, rightly so) of the hallway mouthing the lyrics decision.

"for this in prepared to make compromises" he says, hating every bitter word of it

I would like to know what he wanted to say about till and then see him get into trouble over it.

I would like to see till in a bouncy castle. He's adorable jumping into the comfy pit I want to see him in a bouncy castle. Child, utter child.

Paul takes every opportunity to say how hot he thinks they all are and I love that about him. Sometimes your friends are all hot and everybody needs to understand that fact.

Their approaches to pretending to play cello are all so uniquely them. Flake and Richard are taking the time to try and understand what they're being told, whereas Paul just fucking. Lays into it, attracting the weirdest looks from Oli. Richard looks beautiful with that cello and I think he should learn to play. For fun not for work. It's not just that he looks so handsome, but I think that's the easiest way to convince him. I think he'd be good at it, and not being the lead at something might be good for him.

I appreciate that Oli is skeptical because yeah they do all look like they've never held a cello before.

They do, however, all look lovely in their dresses. I'm trying but actually I can't not say that Schneiders little sternum dip makes it seem like he has breasts in that dress and it's a good look for him.

Till singing it in such a high voice, more like his speaking voice, is both interesting and lovely. Oli is trying... So little compared to the others. Laughably incorrect

Why yes, I am laughing at the sheer length of the spikes. They're just... They're so fucking long. So long.

Paul is actually probably the best one there, ironically. They're all comically out of time. They're professional musicians. I know they aren't used to bowed instruments I do understand and I don't want to be uncharitable but also they are struggling. I want to see cellists react to this.

Pretty dresses! And the nightmare but with the most awful and worst fingers! Like the Grinch but goth.

Both Schneider and Richard had the same neverending shoot idea and I am Intrigued.

Till waiting for Schneider with the umbrella :)

Wir brennen! Paul is always so happy to play with fire.

[cctinsleybaxter]

2020 in books

2020 was a year of changed reading habits; people reading more than ever or not at all, some changing their tastes and others turning to old comforts. While there weren’t any huge overhauls on my end, more free time did mean a total of 32 in a wider range of genres. In the past couple of years I found a lot of the things I read to be kind of middling and ranked them accordingly, but this year had some strong contenders in the mix. With college officially behind me I love nonfiction again, and I really need to stop being drawn in by novels with long titles that ‘sound interesting.’ A piece of advice to my future self: they will only make you angry.

The Good

The Idiot by Fyodor Dostoevsky I loved the BBC radio play when I first listened to it back in 2017, but didn’t know if I could stomach the idea of actually reading the 700-page book, especially since I already knew the plot (spoiler alert: this had no effect and I gasped multiple times despite knowing what was going to happen; Fyodor’s just that good at atmosphere.) The story follows Prince Lev Myshkin, a goodhearted but troubled man entering 1860s Petersburg high society and meeting all of the wretched people therein as he navigates life, laughs, love, unanswerable questions of faith, and human suffering. I care about it in the same way I think other people care about reality TV shows and soap operas. I’m so personally invested in the drama and feel so many different emotions directed at these clowns that it’s like being a fan of Invitation to Love (with an ending equally upsetting to that of the show ITL is from, Twin Peaks.)

Salt: A World History by Mark Kurlanksy I adored this book. The first half reads a little like a Wikipedia article, and I was worried that it was leaning too clinical and would be disaffected with colonialism and indigenous peoples, but even that oversight is corrected for as the text goes on. It’s not going to be for everybody because it really is just the world’s longest encyclopedia entry on, well, salt, but it’s written with such excitement for the topic and is so well-researched and styled for commercial nonfiction that I think it deserves any and all praise it’s gotten. We have to talk about that time Cheshire was literally sinking into the ground, and companies who were over-pumping brine water to steal each other’s brine water said ‘no it’s okay it’s supposed to that’ so were legally dismissed as suspects.

Midnight Cowboy by James Leo Herlihy Cried. 10/10. The plot of Midnight Cowboy is very classic and actually has a lot in common with The Idiot, as 20-something Joe Buck moves from the American Southwest to NYC and meets myriad challenges as a sex worker. I’ve been obsessed with the movie for a few years now and the book made me appreciate it anew; I think it’s rare for an adaptation to take the risk of being so different from its source material while still capturing its spirit. The movie doesn’t include quieter moments like the full conversation with Towny or time spent in the X-flat, nor does it attempt to touch Joe’s internal monologue or his and Rico’s extensive backstories, but these things are essential to the book and are some of the best and most affecting writing I’ve ever read. Finally! The Great American Novel!

The Only Good Indians by Stephen Graham Jones I would firmly like to say that this is probably the best horror novel ever written. The setup is very traditional in that it’s about a group of friends facing supernatural comeuppance for a past mistake, but delivery on that premise is anything but familiar. A story about personal and cultural trauma that raises questions about what we owe to each other and what it means to be Blackfeet, with a cast that’s unbelievably real and sympathetic even at their absolute worst. Creepypasta writers trying to cash in on the cultural mythos of lumped-together tribes wish they were capable of writing something a tenth as gruesome and good as this. It could very well be a movie the visuals and writing style were so arresting, and I can’t wait to read whatever Jones writes next.

Found Footage Horror Films: Fear and the Appearance of Reality by Alexandra Heller-Nicholas This is the least accessible title on the list since it’s a college textbook for people with background in film, but it was so nice to read a woman unpacking film theory with the expertise and confidence it deserves that I have to rank it among the best. I had an absolute blast reading it and am going to have to stop myself from bringing up the horror of 1960s safety films as a cocktail icebreaker.

Blood in the Water: The Attica Prison Uprising of 1971 and Its Legacy by Heather Ann Thompson

The year’s toughest read by far, but also its most rewarding. Thompson uses mountains of documents, government-buried intel, and personal interviews to explain what happened at Attica from beginning to end, and does a fantastic job of balancing hard facts and ‘unbiased journalism’ with much-needed emotion and critical analysis. It’s more important reading in the 2020s than any kind of ‘why/how to not be racist’ book club book is going to be, and the historical context it provides is as interesting as it is invaluable. The second half drags a bit in going through lengthy trial processes with some assumed baseline knowledge of legalese (which I did not have. All that criminal minds in 2015… meaningless), but aside from that editing and prose are some of the best I’ve seen in nonfiction. 

The Bad

The Woman in the Window by A.J. Finn A friend and I decided to read this together because I’m obsessed with how insane the author is and wanted to know if he can actually write.

He cannot.

The Beautiful Thing That Awaits Us All by Laird Barron Barron is an indie darling of the horror fiction scene, so I was excited to finally read one of his collections but can now attest that I hate him. If you’re going to do Lovecraft please deconstruct Lovecraft in an interesting way. I had actually written a lot about the issues I have with how he develops characters and plots, but one of the only shorthand notes I took was “he won’t stop saying ‘bole’ instead of tree trunk” and I feel like that’s the only review we need.

Bats of the Republic by Zach Dodson Look up a photo of this author because if I had bothered to glance at the jacket bio I honest-to-god wouldn’t have even tried reading this.

This Is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone I went in with high expectations since this is an epistolary novella I’d seen praised on tumblr and youtube but oh my god was there a reason I was seeing it praised on tumblr and youtube. This is bad Steven Universe fanfiction. Both authors included ‘listening to the Steven Universe soundtrack throughout’ in the acknowledgements, and to add insult to injury there’s a plug from my nemesis Madeline Miller.

The 7½ Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle by Stuart Turton The premise of this one plays with so many tropes I like that I should have been more suspicious. It’s a dinner party with stock characters one would expect of Clue, and rather than our protagonist being the detective he’s a man with amnesia stuck in a 24-hour time loop. Body-hopping between guests, he must gather evidence using the skillsets of each ‘host’ until he either solves Evelyn Hardcastle’s murder or the limit of eight hosts runs out. I read a lot of not-very-good books, and it’s so, so much worse when they have potential to be fun. This is how you lose the most points, and how I abandon decorum and end up writing a list of grievances: • Our protagonist can only inhabit male hosts, which I think is a stupid writing decision not because I’m ‘woke’ but because wouldn’t it make sense for him to also be working with the maids, cooks, and women close to the murder victim? • Complaining about the limitations of hosts makes some sense (e.g- there’s a section where he thinks that it’s hard to be an old man because it’s difficult to get to the places he needs to be quickly), but one of his hosts is a rapist and one of his hosts is fat. Guess which one gets complained about more. • One of the later hosts is just straight-up a cop with cop knowledge that singlehandedly solves the case. We spend some time being like ‘wow I couldn’t have done it without the info all eight hosts helped gather’ but it was 100% the detective and he solves the murder using information he got off-screen. • The mystery itself is actually well-paced and I didn’t have a lot of issues with it (e.g, there’s a twist that I guessed only shortly before the end), which makes it all the worse that the metanarrative of this book is INSANE. No spoilers but the reveal as to why our unnamed protagonist is even in this situation is stupid. I just know they’re going to make it into a movie and I’m preemptively going to aaaaaaaaa!!!

Trust Exercise by Susan Choi The fact that this was the worst book I read all year, worse even than the bad Steven Universe fanfiction, and it won multiple awards makes my blood boil. I could rant about it for hours but just know that it’s a former theater kid’s take on perception and memory, and deals with sexual abuse in a way that’s handled both very badly and with a level of fake deepness that’s laughable. Select fake-deep quotes I copied down because at one point I said ‘oh barf’ aloud: -I’m filled with melancholy that’s almost compassion. It’s sad the same way. -[On a friendship ending] We almost never know what we know until after we know it. -Because we’re none of us alone in this world. We injure each other.

There are also bad sex scenes that I can’t quite make fun of because I think (HOPE?) they’re supposed to be a melodramatic take on how teenagers view sex, but I very much wanted to die. Flowers were alluded to. Nipples were compared to diamonds.

Honorable/Dishonorable Mentions (categorized as the same thing because, well,)

The Life and Death of Sophie Stark by Anna North This book was frustrating because the first third of it is fantastic. It’s set up to be a takedown of the manic pixie dream girl trope, jumping from person to person discussing their relationship with the titular Sophie, and indirectly revealing that she was just some girl and not the difficult and mysterious genius they all believed her to be. Then in the third act, BAM! She was that difficult and mysterious genius and she’s now indirectly brought all the people from her past together. I wanted to scream the plot beefed it so bad, but the good news is I really liked this octopus description.

It was the size of a three-year-old child, and it seemed awful to me that something could be so far from human and obviously want something as badly as it wanted to get out of the tank.

Radium Girls: The Dark Story of America’s Shining Women by Kate Moore Cool new nightmare speedrun strat is to hear a 2-second anecdote from a documentary that people used to get radium poisoning from painting watch faces, be curious enough that you buy a book to learn more, and be met with medical and legal horror beyond anything you could have imagined. This was almost one of my favorite books of the year! Almost.

Radium Girls is very lovingly crafted and incredibly well-researched; one of those things that’s hard to get through but that you want to read sections of again as soon as you’ve finished. The umbrage I take with it is that it’s very Catholic. The author and many of her subjects are Irish and their religion is important to them, but it casts a martyr-y narrative over the whole thing that I found uncomfortable. Seventeen-year-old girls taking a factory job they didn’t know was dangerous are framed as brave, working-class heroes, but there’s not a set moral lesson to be gained from this story. Sarah Maillefer didn’t make “a sacrifice” when she agreed to the first radium tests, she agreed because she was terrified. She didn’t think she was helping she was begging for help.

The Mushroom at the End of the World: On the Possibility of Life in Capitalist Ruins by Anna Tsing Tsing is an incredibly skilled researcher and ethnographer; there are so many good ideas in this book that I’d almost consider it essential leftist text… if I could stand the way it was structured. Tsing posits that because nature is built on precariousness she will build her book the same way, allowing it to grow like a mushroom, and thus chapters don’t progress linearly and are written more like freeform poetry than a series of academic arguments. Some people are really going to love that, but I’m me and a mushroom is a mushroom and a book is a book. I don’t think in the way Tsing does, and while I tried to keep an open mind it’s hard to play along when something is this academically dense and makes so many ambitious claims. As if to prove how different our structuring methods are, I’ve made my own thoughts into a pros and cons list

Things I liked: • ‘Contamination’ as something inherent to diversity • ‘Scalability’ as a flawed way of thinking (Tsing has written whole essays about this that I find very compelling, but a main example here is that China and the US have come down on Japanese matsutake research for being too ‘site specific’ and not yielding enough empirical data) • Discussing how Americans were so invested in self-regulating systems in the 1950s we thought they could be applied to literally everything, including ecosystems • “The survivors of war remind us of the bodies they climbed over- or shot- to get to us. We don’t know whether to love or hate the survivors. Simple moral judgements don’t come to hand.” • Any and all fieldwork Tsing shares is amazing; I especially liked reading about the culture of mushroom pickers living in the Cascades and their contained market system

Things I didn’t like: • Statements that sound deep but aren’t, e.g- “help is always in the service of another.” (Yep. That’s what that means. Unless an organism is doing something to help itself which then nullifies your whole opening argument.) • A very debatable definition of utilitarianism • “Capitalism vs pre-capitalism,” which seems like an insanely black-and-white stance for a book all about finding hidden middle ground • A chapter I found really interesting about how intertwined Japanese and American economies are, but it tries to cover the entire history of US-Japan relations. Seriously, starting with Governor Perry and continuing through present day, this could have been a whole different book and it’s a good example of what I mean when I say arguments feel too scattered (the conclusion it reaches is that in the 80s the yen was finally able to hold its own against the dollar. Just explain that part.) • A chapter arguing that ‘true biological mutualism’ is rarely a focus of STEM and is a new sociological development/way of thinking which is just… flat-out not true

For all the comparisons art gets to ‘being on a drug trip’ this anthropology textbook has come the closest for me. Moments of profound human wisdom, intercut with things I had trouble understanding because I wasn’t on the same wavelength, intercut with even more things that felt false or irrelevant. I can’t put it on the nice list but I am glad I read it.

[hibiscusangel15]

Why Tragedy Exists

An angsty @ichirukimonth 2020 fic this time.

Summary: When you spent your whole life fighting, what was there to do when you had nothing left to fight for? What purpose did Kurosaki Ichigo even have in this world anymore?

Ichigo’s life during the seventeen months without Rukia. For Day 7 of Ichiruki Month 2020.

Rating: Teen

(Belated) Day 7 Prompt: why are you full of rage? because you are full of grief.

Also crossposted to FFN and AO3!

When you spent your whole life fighting, what was there to do when you had nothing left to fight for? What purpose did Kurosaki Ichigo even have in this world anymore?

“Hey, bleached-hair kid! I’m talkin’ to you, asshole!” Another faceless thug snagged his collar. Yet another nameless gang gathered to back up their cookie-cutter character of a leader.

He shouldn’t be here. He didn’t want to be here. But where else did he have to go?

Another meaningless scuffle. Another bruise, another scrape, more blood to be cleaned later.

Flurried fists and tiny pocket knives and screamed obscenities never seemed so dull before.

Other boys his age often picked fights with him. Had done so as far back as he could remember. All over trifling, inconsequential matters that seemed so laughable to him now. His hair, his attitude, his existence was all wrong.

Only now he had the strength to take them all on by himself. Only now did he choose to fight them for no reason at all.

Chad interfered in one of these fights once. For a moment, they were a team again. They fought side-by-side without the burden of death or the balance of the worlds looming over their heads. This was just a brawl on the street. Nothing more, nothing less.

Once Chad called an ambulance for all the knocked-out thugs, he offered to treat Ichigo out to some food.

Ichigo said nothing. Didn’t even thank him. Just spat out coppery blood on the concrete and stalked off without looking back. Chad wouldn’t chase after him or insist, he knew. Knew all too well how to take advantage of his friend’s inherent kindness.

He never felt more disgusted with himself.

Time moved on. Everyone around him recovered. They all got over the horrors they’d just barely survived. Only he remained stagnant, falling behind, grasping at something forever out of his reach.

He never thought that saving the world would be so thankless.

Tatsuki once invited him to watch her karate team practice and give them a few pointers. None of the upperclassmen were all that stoked about it, but they’d heard about Kurosaki’s reputation. One of them even challenged him to a fair match to test his skills.

He nearly refused. Until the guy went on and on about how Ichigo’s only fighting experience came from fights in the street. How a punk like him couldn’t possibly have learned the discipline or technique a real warrior possessed.

Tatsuki told this smug upperclassman off, stabbing him with reminders that he didn’t even qualify for nationals last year. The upperclassman—Ichigo was never very good at remembering names—snapped something at her, and it was only then he stood up and accepted his challenge.

Ichigo took him down in a few minutes. Then another upperclassman claimed he cheated and demanded a match with him, and another one after that. Their pride as one of the top karate teams in the nation was staked on this.

Unfortunately, these guys were all weak.

None of them would last a day being a Shinigami.

They begged and begged him to join their team despite all their injuries. Despite how afraid of him they all were. To them, to normal humans, Kurosaki Ichigo was little more than a monster.

So he refused. Such things simply didn’t hold his interest anymore.

And then they offered to pay him.

Ichigo hadn’t had much need for money before. Though his father didn’t make much running the Kurosaki Clinic, his family lived comfortably enough.

Now those bills waved in his face meant something else. Something new to latch onto.

With enough money, he could move far, far away from Karakura Town. He could leave everything behind. Go to a university where no one knew him. Start fresh. Start anew.

Ichigo could forget last year ever happened. He could finally forget her.

He took the deal, but made his own conditions as well. This much would only pay for the week. He wouldn’t ever be considered an official member of the team, so they couldn’t ask him to participate in competitions.

They were not comrades. They were not friends.

Word got out about Ichigo’s “services” to the other sports teams at Karakura High.  Soon enough, he found himself making weekly and bi-weekly contracts to help them out during practices.

It was a decent way to make money, he supposed. Looking into how much apartments cost outside the city, though, he knew it wasn’t enough.

He’d have to find another job soon.

Ichigo was out with the track team when he spotted Ishida alone in the park. No, not alone. He couldn’t sense the enemy, but the pocks in the grass and suspiciously trampled playground equipment more than spoke for itself.

He didn’t know what he was going to do when he took off. Instinct never really left much room for rationale, after all.

He leapt high over Ishida’s head, grunting in surprise when his foot connected with an intangible figure. The earth rumbled underneath as a plume of dust kicked up a few feet away.

Definitely a Hollow. A big one.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Kurosaki?” Ishida snapped. His arms were extended before him, holding a bow Ichigo couldn’t see anymore.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m helping you! The least you could do is thank me.”

Idiot! I’m not going to thank you! The echo of her voice rang so unbearably clear in his mind. He wished he could cast it aside, wished the memory of her would not linger in every little thing he did.

Ishida's eyes flickered away, and he leapt a distance much wider than any normal human would’ve been able to cover. A fist-shaped crater bloomed before him. Ichigo raised his arms to block the debris flying past, choking on the dust swirling in the air.

As a habit, he reached behind him for a sword that did not exist anymore. Would not exist ever again.

Fate was once again the millstone, he the grist. It turned relentlessly, endlessly onward, further away from her and back again.

Powerlessness. Normality. Both synonymous with complacency.

Both equaled death.

“You’re only getting in the way, Kurosaki! Just back off and let me handle this for once,” Ishida yelled.

Ichigo watched him mimic pulling an arrow back, deliberate and steady. Watched Ishida fire that shot above his head. There was no fanfare, no sense of accomplishment to accompany it. He didn’t even know where the Hollow was.

“Is it...dead?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

Ishida lowered his arms. “Yes.”

“I see.”

Silence weighed in the air far heavier than any reiatsu ever could.

“Hey, do you ever feel bad about the Hollows you kill?”

Ishida frowned at the question. “What do you mean?”

It was pointless to ask him this. It was pointless to continue.

“Quincies completely destroy souls with their arrows, right?” Ichigo clenched his own shirt in a fist. He had to stop talking. “Don’t you ever feel bad that any random Hollow you killed might be some lost soul in pain?”

Ishida studied him for a wary moment then shoved his glasses further up his nose. “It can’t be helped. If it comes down to saving a Hollow or an innocent soul, I’d choose the innocent one without hesitation. Surely you’d do the same, Kurosaki.”

“I could save both of them.” The words were so quiet, so riddled with hollow confidence. “I’d save them both without even thinking about it.”

“Funny, you once said to me that you knew you couldn’t protect everyone.”

His friends didn’t always have the right words to say. He couldn’t expect them to understand.

And yet….

“But I did save everyone! I saved Karakura Town. I saved the entire damn world as we know it. What makes you think I couldn’t save two souls at once the way I am now?”

His chest ached. The strain was unbearable. He was drowning.

“Are you calling me weak? Do you think I’m so incapable of protecting anyone that you’d rather cast me aside than even let me try?”

Ishida looked away. “Quit putting words in my mouth, Kurosaki. I never said any of that.”

“Oh yeah? I’m in the way? I should back off?” He trembled with directionless rage. “All of you guys think I’m some weakling that needs to be protected. That I can’t fend for myself anymore. And I’m so fucking sick of it!”

“Uh, h-hey, Kurosaki, are you okay?” the captain of the track team asked behind him.

Any idiot would know he wasn’t.

Ichigo turned away. “I’m fine.”

The captain paled at the sight of his scowling face. “Um, you can finish your conversation with your friend—”

“We’re not friends.”

Ishida sucked in a sharp breath, but said nothing. Did nothing. Again.

“Kurosaki!”

Ichigo didn’t turn back. How could he? They’d all turned their backs on him. It only seemed fitting he return the favor.

The wheel continued to turn.

Finals were a pain to deal with, especially with all those remedial classes he had to take for missing so much school before. Though difficult and boring, they weren’t entirely unmanageable.

He hadn’t really talked much to the others in a while. Better to distance himself now. Better they all learn to let him go so he’d have no further reminders of the last year. Of her.

It was stupid to think they’d ever go so quietly, though.

“Ichigo!” Tatsuki called to him on the street.

He stopped walking but refused to look back.

Several sets of footsteps scraped along the concrete behind him.

“You’ve been avoiding us for weeks now, Kurosaki,” Ishida said. “But now that Finals are over, you can’t hide from us anymore.”

“I wasn’t hiding from any of you. We’re all in the same class,” Ichigo replied, keeping his tone unaffected.

“You know that’s not what we mean, Kurosaki.”

Fate was cruel in each revolution. In each turning of the wheel, he would always be crushed under its power.

“Kurosaki-kun,” Inoue piped up, her voice wavering just a bit. “You’ve been acting very strangely since...that day Kuchiki-san left.”

Her name. The mere sound of it dragged him down when he’d tried so desperately to claw himself to the surface.

He hadn’t said her name in months. Didn’t even dare to think it.

“Ishida-kun and Sado-kun and Tatsuki-chan told me everything that’s been happening with you. And...we’re worried.” Her voice bubbled and warped, and he was drowning again. “We don’t know why you’re pushing us all away, Kurosaki-kun.”

They didn’t know? They really didn’t know why he couldn’t bear to be near them?

“I can’t stand the way you all look at me.”

Such a disgustingly petty reason. Such a terrible excuse. When even he couldn’t stand to look at himself anymore.

“Ever since I lost my powers, you’ve all been acting like I'm fragile and useless!”

Enough.

“I can’t stand it!”

Shut up.

“I don’t want your pity!”

Please stop.

“I can’t wait to get the hell out of Karakura Town so you all can finally leave me alone!”

The rain would follow him, though. That cursed rain would always follow him.

He was drowning. Why couldn’t they see?

Tatsuki was the first to speak. “You’ve always been like this.”

“...What the hell did you just say?”

Even now he refused to look at them.

“What, does being mad all the time make you deaf, too?” she snapped. “I said you’ve always been like this, Ichigo. You don’t know any other way to express your grief outside of lashing out.”

“Is that right?” Ichigo stood up straighter. “And what makes you think I’m grieving, Tatsuki?”

“Don’t you dare act like I don’t know you, Kurosaki Ichigo!” Her voice rippled through the water. “We’ve known each other for so long—we’ve been friends for this long—and you couldn’t even bother to tell me what was going on with you from the beginning. I had to learn about all this Shinigami stuff after the fact! And not from you, either! From Orihime! From Chad and Ishida! But you didn’t tell me anything! Not when you left to rescue Kuchiki-san, not when you went to save Orihime…. I know you’re grieving because this is the exact same thing you did when your mother died!”

Ichigo finally whirled on them, eyes burning with so much fury it was difficult to look at him head-on.

Ishida stepped in front of her, arm outstretched like a shield. “So you’ve become the sort of person that would attack your friends over something like this? Do you think Kuchiki-san would be happy if she knew she’d left you in this sorry state?”

They kept saying her name so freely. As if she was so commonplace. As if his heart could bear that burden.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Didn’t she tell you she’d be watching over you, Kurosaki? Do you think she’d approve of anything you’re doing now? All your fights. Your rage. And for what?”

Ichigo gritted his teeth. “I don’t need her approval! I don’t need anything! I’m happy without her! I’m happy I’m finally normal!”

Ishida’s usual calm demeanor cracked, and his face twisted into a scowl. “What you’re doing isn’t normal, Kurosaki! Constantly picking fights with strangers, ignoring all of us, butting into simple Hollow fights—”

Inoue sucked in a breath. Clearly there were some things the others hadn’t told her.

“Does it make you feel strong, Kurosaki? Does it help you forget that, just for a moment, you aren’t completely pathetic?”

Ichigo punched him square in the jaw. His glasses flew off. A sickening crunch sounded under his foot when he took a bewildered step back.

Inoue ran to him immediately. “Ishida-kun!”

Tatsuki grabbed his arm, tried to pin it behind his back and get him to submit. Ichigo wrenched his arm out of her hold and turned to shove her away.

Chad stepped in between them. There was that awful pity reflected in his eyes again.

Ichigo wanted to wipe it away.

Chad took blow after wild blow to the chest, to his stomach, each one more frustrated than the last. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, but he did not move. The pity in his eyes did not change.

Ichigo shoved Tatsuki to the ground when she tried to intervene again. There was yelling. So much yelling. None of it was enough to pierce through the rain. It wasn’t enough to save him.

His hand suddenly bounced off an invisible barrier, bruising the knuckles and his pride all in one shattering blow.

“Kurosaki-kun…” Inoue muttered, her voice cracking.

She flinched when he glared back at her. That look on her face made him hate himself all the more.

It was the same look she wore when he first protected her with his Hollow mask. It was that look every other human threw his way.

Monster.

“Please...stop this.” Tears spilled down her face. Ishida wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders, and she folded into the embrace. “We’re your friends! So please….”

Ichigo couldn’t take it anymore. All his sorrow and grief and aimless rage collapsed around him and he screamed.

Chad caught him before he sank any further. “Ichigo!”

“I can’t…. I don’t….”

He couldn’t breathe. He was drowning. He was dying.

A steady hand squeezed his shoulder, another placed flat on his back. They held him above the water. They lent him their strength.

The rain still echoed around him. He still struggled to stay afloat. But maybe now he would rely on his friends to protect his heart.

A single tear crashed to the ground as bright as a falling star.

“I’m sorry.”

                                                        * * *

Quiet mornings were practically nonexistent in Karakura Town.

“Maaaaan, I can’t stand not talking about this anymore! Doesn’t it drive you insane?” Keigo screeched while walking alongside Mizuiro.

Mizuiro scrolled through social media on his phone, only half-listening. “I’m not sure what you mean, Asano-san.”

“Don’t you ‘Asano-san’ me again, Mizuiro! I’m talking about all the weird stuff Ichigo and the others did a while ago! I mean, I know Ishida and Chad and all the others said it’s better if we don’t talk about that stuff with him, but c’mon! How’re you not supposed to talk about ghosts and monsters and Shinigami after finding out they exist? It’s impossible!”

“Considering your track record, I’m surprised you managed to hold out for this long.”

“Now what’s that supposed to mean? I can be sensitive to others’ feelings!” Keigo insisted. “But it’s been forever. Ichigo might be okay if I talk to him about it now.”

“Might be?”

“Don’t make me second-guess myself, Mizuiro! I’m gonna talk about this so much, even I’ll get sick of hearing about it!”

Mizuiro finally looked up. “Everything that happened to us was pretty unbelievable. Sometimes I want to believe it was all some weird nightmare I had. But...I don’t really want to talk about it. There isn’t much left to be said anyway. Not if reminding Ichigo of it all will just depress him.”

At this, Keigo’s enthusiasm deflated. “Well, yeah, I guess. But don’t you wanna know what he thinks about Rukia-chan not coming to visit all this time?”

What a tactless idiot.

Mizuiro’s smile was more polite than genuine. “I think she’s the main reason he’s been feeling down.”

“What? So you’re saying that they—”

“I’m not saying anything, Asano-san.”

His cold facade nearly fell at Keigo's childish pout. Honestly, if he wasn't able to pick up on these things after all the time he'd known Ichigo, then there really was no hope for him.

Keigo didn’t get a chance to talk to him until lunchtime.

“I wonder what Rukia-chan’s up to.”

Ichigo nearly spit out his juice. “What’s Rukia got to do with anything?”

“I’m just saying, would it kill her to pop in and say hello from time to time?” Keigo flopped about on the floor like a fish. “Don’t you think it’s cold of her to not show her face even once since then?”

Yes.

“It’s not cold,” Ichigo replied.

Liar.

“She’s not in charge of Karakura Town anymore, so it’s completely normal for her to not hang around.”

Keigo squinted up at him. “You don’t miss her?”

More than anything.

“No reason to.”

He rattled off the same bullshit excuse he always did whenever anyone brought this up. He always wanted this slow peace. He didn’t need his powers anymore.

He didn’t need her in his life.

Before today, when was the last time he’d spoken her name aloud? When did Rukia become someone who never left his mind?

Ichigo stared up at the sky. Dark clouds blurred through a once-clear blue.

A black butterfly fluttered past. His absent hand trailed after it, chased it in the hopes it would perch itself on his finger. It flew up higher, further than he could reach, and he slowly let his hand fall away.

Fate turned on relentlessly. It would not falter, would not pause even for them. He had wished, foolishly perhaps, that he could go back to the moment Rukia disappeared from his eyes. Go back just to tell her everything he could not say.

He loved her.

He loved her with every fiber of his weak human heart.

The wheel kept spinning. The butterfly grew more distant.

Rukia would not come back to him.

The wind picked up, and he finally turned away.

I wonder if I can keep up with the speed of a world you’re not in.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs “Human Repellent”

While you are reading this one, I want you to be thinking and come up with another marketable idea that aliens can use to repel humans like in the story :)

Also  a few people have asked me lately if its ok to make suggestions or prompts, and I just want to remind you all that that is very much welcome to please do so. 

They landed at Revelation Colony two weeks after the prison riot ended. If this had been an old sci-fi movie, than this would have been exactly the place for your titular hero to make a shady business deal with an underground alien mob boss, but in doing so manage to insult him inciting a chase across space itself. However, Revelation didn’t exactly follow the tropes of old film. Sure, it was the center for the black market in this quadrant of the galaxy, but instead of organs or artifacts of power, it mostly dealt in undeclared souvenirs like snow-globes and commemorative bobble heads.

The criminal presence was so laughable that, despite being the hub of black market trade, it was most known by tourists for its low prices, great market deals, and as a major staging area for UNSC and GA interests.

This was their main purpose for being here: speaking with superiors, allowing the crew a break, and perhaps finding someone who might be able to help them with Conn. Ever since the prison riot, and the defeat of the Gibb scientist the starborn hadn’t moved to so much as scratch an itch.

According to Krill, the starborn was stuck in a state of unresponsive catatonia with brain waves similar to that of a coma patient. Commander Vir couldn’t help but feel responsible for the whole thing. In fact, Conn’s current state was in direct relation to the rescue attempt by the starborn to save the Commander from losing more limbs. 

They had discussed the incident multiple times since it had happened, but could make no real sense of what had happened. The commander was under the impression the starborn had overloaded himself, and the Gibb with some kind of memory flood or something similar. He could only vaguely remember the feelings that had come upon him when the starborn had touched him, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Sunny had suggested that the starborn had used Vir’s own memories and emotions to short circuit the Gibb, but also ended up catching some of the backlash himself.

Commander Vir wasn’t quite sure about that for he didn’t feel that his memories or his emotions were strong enough to do something like that. He personally thought it was some last ditch defense that the starbor itself could employ, but who knew.

IN the aftermath of everything, the Gibb scientist had been locked back up as catatonic as Conn, Noctus had managed to escape, but according to corporal Ramirez, he wouldn’t be gong very far, or at least not going where he wanted. 

As the Tesraki was escaping, Ramirez had managed to partially destroy the warp converter leaving the Tesraki flying blind even if he managed to survive.

So, after all of that, they had returned to somewhere with human influence to rest, relax, and debrief. The admiral had been as  pleased with the outcome as he could be, and had eventually conceded to give the crew a well-deserved break. Commander Vir, however hadn't been so lucky, and was ordered to do the admiral a favor before he got his rest.

So that is why he was here, walking down the dark, crowded streets, surrounded on all sides by colorful neon booths containing wares from all over the galaxy. Hundreds of faces stared at him as he passed hawking their wares with raised voices and pleading beckoning motions.

Behind him Sunny walked with her head high examining the crowd for any perceived threats. it  hadn’t been a question that he was going to bring her with him, for by this point, it had been openly established that she was his partner when it came to the smaller operations. Not only did they work well together as a team , but they very much enjoyed the other’s company.

“Remind me why we’re here again.” The question sounded more jenuine than it did annoyed, otherwise she seemed relatively happy to be off the ship, and out and about. He also had a feeling she was relieved he hadn’t been reduced to a catatonic mess like the other two, and may have been slightly worried, keeping watch on him to make sure he didn’t collapse drooling.

“I guess the GA has caught wind of a new issue cropping up in some of the marginal alien markets. Apparently, there is a high market demand for products that can repel, or incapacitate a human.”

Sunny blinked in surprise as they cut past a colorful rack of hats, and down onto another less-crowded side street.

“Why would they be doing that?” she wondered almost managing to look baffled.

“Well, it’s only to be expected, with the influx of humans in the galaxy they are bound to run into the worst of us.” It was true, in fact, humanity brought with it what might be considered the best and worst of the galaxy. Where there were men like Commander Vir, there had to be his equal and opposite in all ways. Luckily the GA understood the nature of humans, the best and the worst mentality, an entire species of ride or die types who could come out the best of the best or evil beyond comparison.

Of course, before this understanding was met, there had been some massive PR nightmares which came with the first inter-species murder, assault, robbery etc etc, but eventually things had straightened out, but aliens were no less frightened of humans than they had originally been.

“So are we here to confiscate their things?” Sunny wondered 

“No, no of course not, even on earth we make weapons to repel other people. We are just afraid of us as the rest of the galaxy pepper-spray, tasers, knives, guns,, your own keys. We have been in the business of protecting ourselves from humans long before you guys thought of it. No, the issue here is whether the objects are legal and use reasonable force.” Though when it came to humans, reasonable force usually meant lethal force for any other species, “Ah, here we are.”

The commander stopped in front of a shop, whose door was covered by a beaded curtain strung through with neon orange lights. The effect was gaudy and blinding, but he shook the light from his eyes and pushed inside. Sunny followed after.

Their presence, and entrance, into the small store immediately halted everything in its tracks. The Tesraki proprietor had frozen mid way through his sales pitch to a rather shiftly looking pair of Gibb. A few of the other customers squealed and hid behind the stands.

It was clear that a human and a Drev weren't exactly what they hoped to see this morning, perhaps the last thing they wanted to see. Commander Vir tipped the brim of his uniform hat and tugged at the collar of his suit jacket where- on stood his wings, the insignia of the GA and the UNSC, “Morning. I’m Commander Vir of the UNSC affiliated with the GA and this is my weapons lieutenant Sunny Lumnusdaughter.”

The tesraki eyed them suspiciously as they stepped further into the shop. Despite being a human, Everyone knew the name Vir, and Sunny to an extent, so they didn’t cut and run.

“What do you want!” The tesraki demanded, “I have my sales license, and my customers have every right to protect themselves from brutes like you.”

The commander simply smiled, “Of course, I don’t deny that right, The GA just wants to make sure that it is being done within the constraints of the law.” He crossed his arms over his chest, “So please, go on with your demonstration, and pretend we aren’t here.” 

Hesitantly, the Tesraki went back to his pitch eyeballing the human the entire time as he went. “Yes this little beauty right here is made BY humans FOR humans and can apply a force of about 50,000 volts of electrical current directly into the body. This causes the muscles to seize up immediately and the human will be grounded. Downside is the human can immediately get back up after the shock is discontinued, so while it  won’t stop one, it will be a serious deterrent.” The Tesraki eyed the Commander, “Of course, the best way for ou to test if my products are legit and ethical….”

The commander frowned, “You just want a demonstration to help sell your product.”

The Tesraki shrugged it’s furry shoulders, “You can hardly go back to your superiors and say that you know for sure this is ethical if you haven’t tested it.”

There was a moment of pause and the commander sighed eventually looking at Sunny, “If he kills me, rip his limbs off.”

That dampened the Tesraki’s smug look, but the commander was already unbuttoning his uniform jacket which he pulled off and hung on a hook on the wall removing his cap as well leaving him only in a white long sleeve- button up shirt and the uniform slacks. Sunny didn’t much like this idea, but glowered at the Tesraki to let him know she meant business.

The human stood legs slightly bent hands out to his side. Sunny stood behind him.

“Watch closely.” the Tesraki began before stepping forward and jamming the contacts against the human’s stomach. There was a sharp snapping sound which repeated violently as the human immediately seized up only managing to bite a curse through his locked jaw before falling backwards. Sunny caught him as the human twitched and jerked  violently. She almost worried he was having another seizure before the Tesraki pulled back, and the human immediately regained his body groaning only to slowly regain his feet.

“Ow that hurts like a bitch.” He cursed rubbing his stomach where the contacts had made.

The spectacle had drawn a rather interested crowd, and the Tesraki was looking very smug, “See quite effective.” he looked towards the commander, “Do you want another?”

“Hell no, what kind of question is that.”

The Tesraki ignored him and turned back to his crowd, “See, a fantastic deterrent.”

“Now lets see, this little spray bottle here is another human invention for humans and contains  the poison capsaicin in concentrated doses. Now, while some humans enjoy small doses of this poison on their food they do not enjoy it sprayed in their eyes. It will result in a burning sensation, and an overreaction of the mucous membranes.” 

The commander backed away his hands raised, “Wow, uh I am not demonstrating that. I would like to be able to see for the next few hours thanks.”

“See even the mention of it causes them to back away in fear.” The Tesraki said dramatically 

Commander Vir rolled his eyes as the rest of the crowd oohed and aahed. 

“Humans, you may have heard have more senses than any creature in the galaxy…. Accept maybe for the Drev.” He glanced at Sunny, “So what if I told you that I could make the human run from this room without lifting more than a finger.” 

Around the room the crowd shifted in disbelieving anticipation 

“The one sense they have that the rest of us do not, can be used against them. You see that weird protrusion in the center of its face.” The commander frowned, “That is a nose and it can be used to detect particles in the air. Everything sheds particles of itself, and if there are enough of them, a human can sense it. I would very much recommend this little device for those who come from the Iota quadrant, and are known to smell irresistibly delectable to humans. You see, when this pin is pulled particles are released into the air. When a human breaths them in they bind to chemical protein sights in the nose, and I am told that the smell is quite revolting.”

The commander looked a bit skeptical one eyebrow raised, but the tesraki reached down and smugly pulled the pin. The reaction was ALMOST immediate. For the first second he just stood there and then the man’s eyes widened a hand shot up over his face, and he gagged violently. It seemed as if he tried to adjust himself to the smell, but then gagged again and turned to race towards the door knocking over a stand as he went doubling over a few more times leaving Sunny sure he was going to vomit. He vanished out the door after a couple of seconds, and the crowd clapped politely. The Tesraki returned the pin smugly.

Sunny sniffed at the air. She could just catch a whiff of something, but having been born on a planet dominated by volcanoes, it hadn’t been prudent to make her susceptible to bad smells, as sulfur was common. It was more useful to be able to detect sweet and sour smells.

“Scientists believe that this reaction exists as a primitive way to keep the creature from ingesting anything poisonous. The human nose cannot tell the difference between a smell inside the mouth and a smell outside the mouth. If the nose detects a dangerous level of certain types of chemicals that could be poisonous, it demands that the human move immediately. It can even cause an involuntary holding of the breath and a regurgitation of the last meal i.e those horrible noises it was making as it left.”

It took awhile for the commander to return, and when he did, he was mad. He marched up hand over his mouth and nose and grabbed the Tesraki by the arm. His voice was somewhat muffled by his hand when he said, “That smelled like a HUMAN corpse, so explain yourself.”

The tesraki calmly brushed him off, “Calm down, Commander, its a simple chemical compound that mimics the bacterial breakdown of your human flesh. No humans were harmed in the making of this weapon. Though you have to admit, it is quite clever.”

“Quite disgusting.” The man commented, but backed away

The Tesraki continued unfazed, “Now this one is a might bit more expensive, and takes a bit longer to operate. See first you used this to scan the human, and then you press one of these three buttons. Or you can press them all at the same time see.” There was a sharp clicking noise, and three small drones launched themselves at the Commander,’s face. The man tried to duck, but the three little pieces connected themselves together and latched onto his head and neck. The bulk of the device was locked around his neck, but a few legs of the contraption gripped themselves over his face.

“What the hell.” He muttered

“Then you press this button.” The machine whirred, and the human shrieked in pain falling immediately to his knees as his head was forced back and to the side. Sunny snarled, and the Tesraki let go of the button.

The man fell to his knees, and the device detached.

“Pressure points, areas of inherent weakness and high concentration of nerve endings on the human body. If pressed they cause severe pain. Humans have more of these points on the body but TW-17, GV-26 and LI-18 are sufficient. The last one can even cause nausea and unconsciousness if worked hard enough.”  

Commander Vir rubbed his neck, “AND they can be lethal.” The tesraki frowned, but the huan held up a hand, “Which is why that device requires testing, authentication, and review from the electronics board. If it is going to e used, it has to be a NON-lethal measure with a short burst duration. We don’t want anyone getting funny ideas that they can enslave humanity.” He glowered at the tesraki 

Later, when they walked from the store, Commander Vir was looking more the worse for ware. Sunny watched him in pity, “Why do you always insist on hurting yourself?”

The commander rubbed the back of his head, “Do you think I do this for fun?”

“Sometimes I wonder.” 

“I am allergic to pain.”

She laughed, leaned over, and picked the human up. He yelped in surprise than looked at her, “Really.”

“You look tired.” And this is how I show my appreciation.” 

“Ah yes, by bridal carrying me through the city.” He gripped halfheartedly 

“I can do fireman or sack of potatoes, but I hear this one is more comfortable.” She said beginning her walk through the city

Commander Vir only argued for the sake of politeness before dropping it, besides, he didn’t really mind. He was exhausted, and besides he actually kind of enjoyed the attention.

Don’t forget to comment with your idea for repelling humans, if you have one.