#i am embarrassingly bad at clothing in general i think

[piichivii]

ray & gold dust // tuyaa, the rogue

[madfantasy]

I haven't seen you post in a while, I hope you've been doing okay? How is everything? Hope it's been a good year so far for you 💕💕

You're too kind, u & everyone who made inquiries, bless ur hearts.. im sorry for disappearing, but yeah, I don't have net— using my phone credit and hope this posts..

I tried to record my voice answering this, like I sometimes did on tik, suddenly ended up trying to muffle the floods of my burning tears, so now I have an awkward vid of me talking then weeping out of nowhere, which a good reason for me to keep up the no cry habit, heh.. but seriously, I suppose I'm fine till I be conscious of it.. its much easier for not to talk .. even tho I'm aching to be back in thy company, lonely in my foresight to catch on to the present that joins us, hand held out to reach like minded souls but shying from the fear of forgetfulness occurring..

I'm fine tho, did few new stuff, merely drowning in too muchness and nothingness as usual, this month I guess you could say I took an act of mad fury in search of any happy source because the echoing silence and the swarm of sadness nipping on my brain cells thickened, and the reasoning merged with the obscene. So instead of giving my guardians the usual of 3/4 of my earnings last month for net and groceries, I spent it all. Ya know, as it was told to me it mine to do as I please? As being prevented any chance of work if it was possible, 't was supposed to be spent on art supplies & measly delights craved for years ?

Before hand, I've been begging them to take me for months to get any clothing or whatever, be it the first time I ever see a shop, then just to drive around, then just me peaking to the outside when the front door is open, merely seeking change I suppose. They kept vaguely promising me until they refused point blank— getting tired of my nagging, then their car just stopped working till this day. Its in the workshop rn..

Anyway, befouled by despair, needing the mere basics of life and not granted, I was delighted when i found a site to buy from cheap & pretty, I pressed buy without any further considerations, or taking their permission and thrilled to be able get gifts for my siblings too. I say gifts but really they are deprived necessities too and not even much just one each cuz well, they are 5 of my babies and to start with the top of priorities; we all draw

I could already see it, they can't help themselves; heck seeped through the clenched gates of their mouths, trying desperately to poison me with undirect attempts this time, cuz I bought for my sibs they're out of the option of calling me selfish. I was upping the same trance like state of vague existence dealing with them, absorbing their insults and degrading just to make sure my shi arrives safe.

Unfortunate for me, the site chose the worst carrier in this country

I did everything in my power to make it into their convenience, by embarrassingly messaging the carrier daily, they took a week of promising to deliver and flanking so my guardians reached a heated level of threatening, waving their hands nd almost tossing shi at mE saying that they don't care if they came and if i dared to order something again they'll do this and that. Not allowing me to open the door for the delivery guy when he comes, blaming me for missing vaccination dates (they kept missing them even before)& missing going to important places(again, they just didn't go to for ages), made them loose sleep, etc etc— in turn, I seen red and regretfully blew up.

I screamed at them its literally the only time I ever did this, it BECAUSE it easier on them & I'll do what I want whatever anyway, & to stop interrupting me while I try to explain things , then they suddnly back done and be like I'm not mad at u I'm mad at the delivery ppl, that they are proud of me for being able to do all this, and such sort. I left them to cool in my room, Idk how I did it but must have slam-gripped something so hard it chipped most of my short nails & cracked one, was glad I didn't hurt my drawing hand but yeah, goofy mani

They robbed me of the joy of anticipation & the dissipation of apathy, I started to lose sleep again and my liberating dreams left me and I don't think I remember leaving bed.

But still, If not force myself to do things.. there'll be nothing for me if I don't.. at least I know im able of that

I got my guardians happy tho after another tiresome refusal, by trying out one of those Uber-eat like local apps here, since they have no car and being disabled & ill, I ordered McDonald's for the first time. Slythry behind their backs per habit, told them someone coming and they had that look again, but thankfully the guy came through and didn't steal my money, heh. For a big 1800 calories meal I suppose it was passable, the happy fam faces I got was the real treat..

Oh with that thing with the credit card stating I owe them money, waited weeks & nobody got back to us? They started taking from my guardian's account directly to pay it, saying oh we did send you warnings--- TO THE SHADOWY LINES OF THEIR POSTERIOR A.K.A NOWHERE. Thankfully the account is mostly empty nd just for random transactions, i alerted my guardians not to use it. And again, my god, another round of endless calls and promises started, and we wait again so they just don't act as if we owe them a frking 17k dollars that we don't have.. was panicking cuz I have nothing and but my guardians were weirdly comforting about it and told me not to worry

One thing good bout no net is it made me stop thinking about life in general, and stop the tiny unnoticeable prick of misery when I have no input to share, trying not to helplessly compare people just living, in inflated style or not, in media, to my isolated-most-of-my-life style and missing much of that organic "life experiences and chances", heh. At least, my situation would be favorable to me if it was ever possible for it to let me have peace, or have the simple knowledge I'm not virtually imprisoned and have never familiarised with nothing of this world but the surrounding walls.. its nice to have more time to be consumed by muse and day dreaming that flutters life through my dull being and sing chorus of inspiring means for art to flow and finds its way delicately onto my realised canvas.. but no, I continued drawing whilst sight blurred with salty droplets contradicting that happy tintin dance on tiktok I worked so long on just cuz I couldn't stop, not the tears or the mad scribbles of determined intention to visualise the mourned excitement I need, hating everything I make

Somehow the lilac dream still intrudes, visualising me friends, living, in a quaint home, maybe we roommate, arm in arm we go to make every fracture of fate's encounters a disgusting adventurous thrill, like building a maze of cardboard or chasing each other in the dark.. maybe getting that half bleached head and endless ear pericings ... then it dies and I totally forget it..

But what those awesome headphones helped me do, literally blocks all their voices listening to Sev losing it and I can Waltz around not feeling gutted to go and interfere or play the referee each time. But I can't wear them forever, gives me a bad headache, and honestly; I can't be too neglectful.. my sibs hates me for it already hehe

At least these clothing came true to their measurements, felt the new sensations on how everything I wore hugs me & learnt the baffling ways on how "gender" and region plays different tunes on the same measurements. Getting fitting things felt like suddenly there's hope to be, for myself to be me, and ease this severe disassociation between who I am, and what my body is .. from how little I see myself nd consider it worthy of anything because of how long it been living like a phantom among people.. to numb this dysphoria until it be gone one day

Saddened that the only site I can't order from again if they keep using that awful carrier

...

I missed our country's 91 national day, too. They made sales everything 91 riyal so.. but knowing the sellers here, I don't think most of em went true with their offers.. Horrible news tho on the celebrations, sigh

I turned this into a dear diary, guess bothered you enough today, sorry

So thankful to yous, Idk if I can be back, but I'll remain creating, and will keep the thought alive of being tickled when sharing my creations with your viewing pleasure somehow

'till then my precious dears, take care 💛🙏

26.9.2021, 8 pm, sleeping

[seekingseven]

Last one: Twilight & Legend bonding! I'm thinking maybe they get stuck somewhere after a world-switch, and that means they actually have to talk to each other and work together. And not lamenting over lost loves - rather, learning how to work together despite their differences (e.g. Legend's use of magic and Twilight's avoidance/lack of)

they are my favourites and I'd love to see them together more!

Linked Universe Prompt Request #9!

What an awesome prompt to end off this little series with! It was really fun to work on this one; I hope you'll enjoy it too!

(You can also read the fic here on Ao3, or view the entire drabble series here!)

"You really think they left without us?"

Legend chewed idly on a fingernail as he stared at the ground, eyes fixated on a sprig of daisy blooming in a pavement crack. Beside him, Twilight crossed his arms and huffed.

"Not intentionally, I'm sure, but yeah. They're gone."

"How could they forget us?"

Legend's question was flat-toned, but his syllables pinched at the corners in his characteristically melodramatic way. Twilight rolled his eyes. Of all the people he could be stuck with in an unnamed Hyrule in an unnamed timeline, it had to be the veteran.

Oh well. Could have been worse.

"I guess they didn’t realize we were still here,” Twilight began, taking a seat on an upturned rock and flicking ants off his arms. “Still a surprise to know that those portals don’t wait or anything.”

Black steam curled off the pavement by Legend’s feet, the only memory of the gaping portal that had stood there just seconds ago. Legend carded his hands through his hair and gripped the back of his head.

“What are we supposed to do now? How can we get back to them? Are we permanently separated? Are you even listening? Twilight! Hey, are you just going to stand there? We need to find someone to give us directions!"

"Directions?" Twilight snorted. "We don't need directions."

"We do, too!"

A swing and a clatter of metal, and Twilight was back on his feet. His arms were crossed tight across his chest. 'We're heroes, we don't need directions."

"Yeah, if we want to get lost! Listen, let's at least buy a map."

"For what? Where are we even planning to go?"

Legend opened his mouth, then closed it again, lips pursed and pulled to the side. "Huh."

"Getting all huffy about nothing. I suggest that we just stay here."

"Stay here? We're in the middle of some goddess-forsaken road, who knows what'll come along and trample us!" With a dramatic sweep of his arm, Legend gestured to the crumbling brown pavement underfoot and the greying sky overhead.

Goddess-forsaken might have been a little bit of an understatement.

"Well, what else do you suggest we do? Walk off and let the others try and find us?"

"That's what they did to us, in case you weren't paying attention."

"Do you really think being petty is going to get us anywhere?"

"What, so you think being high and mighty is going to get us out of this?"

Blue locked with blue. Legend narrowed his eyes. Twilight snorted. The veteran's personality was like corn whisky--pungent and sharp, and pleasant in only small doses with a generous distance. The rancher's upper lip curled at the thought.

"Hey, don't look at me like that," Legend demanded. Twilight's eyes remained trained on the ground. Legend tried again. "Twilight? You listening?"

"I don't know, maybe."

"Listen, man. I'm, uh, sorry."

"...what?"

"Don't--just, uh. Sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I'm a little stressed, obviously, but that isn't an excuse, and I apologize. I didn't mean to make it sound like it's your fault or something." Legend's eyes flickered to Twilight's, whose own had widened to take up half his face. He coughed into his fist before continuing. "I...uh...if you think it's best that we stop here, then we can. They'll come back. Probably."

Twilight was still staring. The muscles along his arm relaxed, and the bitterness from earlier faded to guilt.

"Oh," he began, "I didn't mean to make it sound that your idea was bad. I was just worried...I don't know where we could go from here."

Legend nodded. The move wasn't sympathetic, not yet, but at least his mind was doing the talking. "Yeah. Do you think we should stay?"

"Here? I think so. What do you think?"

Silence. Legend's eyes slimmed in thought. Mind goaded on by the quiet, Twilight slipped into his own brooding bubble. His eyebrows flickered upward as he alighted on a compromise.

"Legend?"

"Yeah?"

"How about we wait? Maybe an hour or so, and if they're still not back, we can move on?"

Legend nodded slowly, then beamed. "Yeah! Let's do that. Okay then, huh, could you scooch over? I want to sit too."

Cloth ruffled as Twilight slid to the side, then patted the grey rock beside him. Legend sat down with an awkward grunt. A hot breeze swirled up debris on the side of the road, and a squirrel hurried across the pavement. Far away, a goat brayed.

"We really are in the middle of nowhere," Twilight mused.

"It's not so bad, though. The sky is pretty."

Twilight glanced at the pinking, sunset-flecked clouds overhead. "Yeah. Huh. It's sort of a nice day, isn't it."

"Mhm. Hey, I've got a question."

"Shoot."

Legend idly knocked the sheaf of rings on his finger against his teeth. "Magic. You have some sort of problem with it. Am I right?"

If Legend's earlier apology hadn't soothed Twilight's prickliness into an ashamed buzz, there was no telling what his response might have been. Yet with the clouds puffing their way across the sky and the gentle hum of music, distant, Twilight's reservations faltered.

"It's just not my thing," he began. "I like doing things myself. With what I've already got. Augmenting things or changing them...that's not my deal." Upon noticing the incredulous look on Legend's face, Twilight's mouth pressed into a culpable smile. He scratched the back of his neck as he continued. "But maybe I'm just old fashioned, favoring my hands and whatnot. It's nothing against you."

It was only upon Twilight's last words that the tight look on Legend's face faded. The veteran really did take things too seriously and too personally, didn't he? Maybe that's why he panicked so easily.

"Well," Legend began, "I guess I can understand that. You should try it sometime, though. Magic."

Twilight raised an eyebrow. That familiar stubbornness, the complete lack of tact...sometimes he forgot that the others were quite literally iterations of himself. "Thanks, but I'm good."

"Really, Twi, I mean it. I mean, of course it takes some time getting used to, but I think you'll enjoy it. It's more down-to-earth than you think."

"You really think so?"

"I know so. And anyway, it takes you way too long to start a campfire with a twig and a flintstone."

Twilight huffed, then, upon seeing the frustratingly serious expression on Legend's face, leaned forward and flicked his nose.

Legend's eyes went wide. Twilight recoiled. Had he gone too far? It was just instinct--he had flicked the champion's nose more times than he could count, but never the veteran's...had he crossed some sort of line?

His internal monologue stuttered to a stop with Legend flicked his nose right back.

"Hey!" Twilight protested, shielding his nose and surprised smile behind his arm, "cut that out! Cut it--cut it out!"

"Not unless you promise to try on some of my spellcasting rings."

"I won't!"

Flick!

"I--hey! Stop that!"

"Say 'Legend, I promise to practice magic with you and I'm sure you'll be a good teacher' and then I'll stop."

"Are you crazy? No way!"

Flick!

Twilight tried to protest again, but his words muddled into an embarrassingly high-pitched giggle. He blinked quickly against the water building in his eyes and tried to hide his head between his knees.

Flick!

"Fine, fine!" Twilight exclaimed, hands in the air and nose pink. "I'll do it! I'll do the magic thing with you. Just--uh, you promise to go fishing with me. Or something. Don't--Legend, I swear to Hylia, if you do that again I'll kick you in the nuts."

Legend paused, pointed finger pressed behind his thumb in a menacing 'o,' and considered the peace offering (and auxiliary threat) presented. After a tense moment, he let his hand drop into his lap.

"Fine. Surrender accepted."

"Wh-surrender? I didn't surrender anything."

Legend smirked and laced his hands under his chin. "History is written by the victors, you know. Now, stand up."

"Why?"

"And take these," Legend added, dropping a few golden bands into Twilight's lap. A faint vibration, like music rumbling from the floor, oozed off the polished metal. "Put 'em on and stand up."

Twilight did as instructed and slipped on the rings. His mind caught up with his arms just as he began to stand up.

"Wait, hold on; are we starting this thing now?"

Legend raised an eyebrow and crossed one leg over the other. He bore a surprising resemblance to an irritated schoolteacher. "Of course we are."

"By Nayru's teeth, are you serious?"

Flick!

~~ Fine ~~

I hope you enjoyed! Thank you so so much to everyone who submitted prompts--I hope you enjoyed how they came out--and a big shoutout to everyone who read them! I hope some of them were able to make you smile :D

Until next time!

[Previous Request]

[keichanz]

Neighbors | ch. 2

hey guys. remember this fic? i finally wrote finished the second chapter two years later lajefilauhefajf whoops ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

AO3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Kagome jolted awake with a startled gasp, shooting upright in bed as her arm, on its own accord, swung out in front of her as if to catch something – or maybe catch herself from falling. For a solid minute Kagome did nothing but drag in ragged breaths, eyes wide, her arm trembling slightly from holding it aloft. Finally the glaze over her eyes seemed to clear and she blinked her vision back into focus, into reality as her consciousness slowly registered the nightmare had ended.

A flash of white caught her attention. Dazedly Kagome stared at the white gauze wrapped around her hand, uncomprehending what exactly it was for several seconds as her sluggish mind struggled into full wakefulness. Snippets of memory slipped through the haze that clouded her mind; the sound of glass shattering, a brief weightless feeling, red smeared across her hand...heavy pounding on her door, a flash of silver, of deep, burnished amber—

“Ya alright?”

“Grease dog.”

“Inuyasha.”

“Inuya—ah.”

Without any warning the pain finally registered in her hand and Kagome sucked in a sharp breath as the recollection of last night’s events came rushing to the fore. Putting away dishes, cutting her hand, falling…Inuyasha coming to see if she was all right. Her ankle developed a dull throb, reminding her of how he’d carried her out of her apartment, drove her to the hospital, and carried her inside. She remembered the needles, the fear it instilled in her, how she’d hid in Inuyasha’s shoulder. How he’d talked the entire time, distracting her so she was able to relax and forget about what the doctor was doing.

Blushing as she recalled the low timbre of his voice and the solid strength of his arms beneath her, Kagome winced as the pain in her hand turned into a burning throb that was getting increasingly difficult to ignore. She bought the appendage into her lap and inspected the white bandage, trying to recall the doctor’s instructions concerning the injury. Truthfully she couldn’t remember much after Inuyasha had announced the treatment was finished so she must have been on auto pilot up until Inuyasha carrying her back out to his truck. Then she remembered nothing so she must have dozed off on the way back home.

Her blush darkened at the implication that her handsome neighbor had carried her to bed, however it was impossible to stop the pleased smile from curling her lips. She already owed him so much for coming to her rescue and seeing to her care. But knowing that he hadn’t stopped there, taking her to her room and putting her to bed? It astounded Kagome, how someone she barely knew could be so thoughtful, and Kagome hoped she’d be able to make it up to him. She was grateful for all he’d done, and she wanted to make sure he knew it.

Kagome’s smile widened and she nodded determinedly to herself. “Right. First things—ow.”

Hissing as her right ankle twinged, Kagome moved more slowly as she swung her legs off the bed and carefully placed her foot on the floor. It still hurt like hell but she was pretty sure she could still walk. The ace bandage prevented her from seeing if there was bruising or swelling, although she didn’t think it was sprained, just a bad twist, which she was thankful for. She still had a lot of unpacking to do and having a sprained ankle would put a damper on her plans.

Wrinkling her nose as she contemplated on what to do next – she knew walking on it would slow the healing but she didn’t exactly have a choice, nor did she own any crutches – something on her nightstand caught her attention. Turning her head, she found what looked to be a wrinkled receipt sitting on the table with a scrawled message. Instantly Kagome’s heart quickened and she snatched it up, unable to stop another smile from blossoming as she read the short note.

Text me in the morning # in your phone

- I

God, how stupid was it that such a simple, completely generic and normal message left her heart pounding and her stomach fluttering?

Oh my god, Kagome, get a grip! It’s just a dumb note! You barely even know the guy; it’s completely ridiculous to fawn over a stupid wrinkled receipt!

Kagome read the message again and butterflies took flight in her belly.

Oh, god. She had it bad.

Kagome moaned and let her head roll forward on her shoulders, lifting a hand and racking fingers through her hair. She let the paper fall to the floor, stared at it for a minute, cursed, then stooped down to pick it up and place it back on the nightstand. Scowling at how ridiculous she was being now, Kagome shook her head and resolved to push those thoughts to the back of her mind to dwell on at a later time.

A much later time.

Sucking in a breath, Kagome braced her hands on the bed and slowly pushed to her feet, baring her weight on her left leg and using the nightstand to keep her balance. Biting her lip, she carefully let her right foot rest on the floor before slowly shifting to bear her weight on it a little at a time. As expected her ankle protested but she grit her teeth through the pain and forced herself to take a tiny, shuffling step. To her surprise and utter relief her ankle didn’t give and she breathed through the pain as she took another one, slowly limping her way toward the door, trying very hard to ignore the pain that ricocheted up her leg as the idle thought of what the time was floated across her mind.

Somehow she managed to make it to the bathroom without incident and shuffled out only a short time later. As much as she wanted one, Kagome didn’t think she could handle a shower right now, not with her ankle as it was. And with her hand the way it was, it was probably best she avoided getting it wet, at least for now. She’d do a Google search later on how to properly clean and treat a post-stitched wound, or something.

She gimped her way to the kitchen, finding it was getting slightly easier to walk even if the pain didn’t exactly lessen. It was halfway down the hallway that she remembered about the shattered glass she’d have to clean up and she gave an involuntary pitiful whimper. Man, she really didn’t think she’d be able to sweep it all up, not when she could barely—

Kagome stood in the doorway to her kitchen and gaped at her clean floor. Seconds later a warm, not at all unpleasant feeling blossomed in her chest and spread outward. The corners of her lips flickered into a smile as a soft blush colored her cheeks, those damn butterflies once more taking flight in her belly.

“Inuyasha,” Kagome murmured and leaned against the jamb with a soft sigh. So not only had the man taken her to the hospital, carried her to bed, and practically tucked her in, he’d also had the consideration to sweep up the shattered glass that had littered her kitchen floor.

Damn, Kagome mused, biting her lip as she carefully shuffled over to the car counter that bisected her living room and kitchen. Just sweep me off my feet while you’re at it.

Feeling a mite flushed and resisting the ridiculous urge to giggle like a schoolgirl with a crush, Kagome hopped up onto one of the bar stools with more difficulty than usual and swiped up her phone. It had been sitting there since last night while she was putting away dishes and she wasn’t surprised to find it was only at 10% charge.

Still enough to send a quick message, though, she mused with a little smile and checked the time—just after 9 AM. It was a reasonable enough time; he should be awake, right? Granted, they did get back fairly late and though she couldn’t remember the exact time, she knew it’d been closing in on midnight when the doctor finally finished stitching up her hand.

It's just a text, Kagome reasoned and opened up her contacts, ignoring the way her stomach did that weird swooping thing again. Even if he is still sleeping, he’ll see it when he wakes up.

Opening her messages, she immediately zeroed in on the latest one sent and the smile that split her face was embarrassingly giddy. Inuyasha had sent himself a text, just a simple and short “hi,” but it had her heart pounding nonetheless as a squeal bubbled up her throat and good god she was acting like a schoolgirl with a crush now, for heaven’s sake!

Shaking her head and telling herself to get a damn grip, Kagome fired off a simple “Good morning! :)” before deliberately setting the mobile onto the counter and carefully climbing down from the stool. She knew that if she just continued to sit there waiting for him to reply, she’d drive herself crazy wondering if he’d received it or not and she’d constantly check her messages to see if she had one back yet. She might as well pass the time by doing something productive and not acting like a teenaged girl with her first crush, so with a grunt Kagome hobbled her way back to her bedroom.

After brushing her teeth, taming the unruly waves of her hair into some semblance of order before promptly putting it into a messy ponytail, and changing into some clean clothes, she was feeling a little more human than before. Donned in a simple t-shirt and black capri leggings, Kagome deemed herself ready to face the day’s challenges and shuffled back out into the kitchen, using the walls and pieces of furniture to help kept most of her weight off her ankle.

Amazing what a little bit of deodorant and a fresh pair of panties could do to a woman’s confidence, Kagome idly mused and started up her Keurig before hopping over to the counter. The hope was evident in her eyes as she woke up the screen to her cell and then her entire face lit up with a smile.

2 new messages

So he was awake. Leaning against the counter, Kagome eagerly opened it up, telling herself that she wasn’t being ridiculous. She wasn’t.

morning

how you feelin?

Resisting the urge to immediately start firing off text after text, reassuring him that she was fine and then expressing her endless gratitude with even more messages, Kagome bit her bottom lip and flicked her gaze to the door. It just felt too…impersonal, thanking him via text message, especially after all that he’d done for her. She thought it would have better impact to tell him face to face, to let him know just how much she appreciated his help and how grateful she was to him. It was hard to express that kind of thing through text, after all, and Kagome was nothing if not thorough when it came to something like this.

So, considering all of that…perhaps her attractive downstairs neighbor wouldn’t mind a brief morning visit?

Mind made up, and stubbornly ignoring that damn giddy feeling again as it welled up in her chest, Kagome left her phone sitting on the counter and slipped her feet into a pair of hard-soled slippers before heading toward the door. Her ankle and hand were both throbbing and she told herself she’d take some painkillers after she probably conveyed her thanks to Inuyasha. No doubt she’d probably already overdone it from all the moving around she’d already done that morning and she resolved to a day of rest on the couch, some Uber Eats, and Netflix.

After she got back, of course. First there was a certain golden-eyed, devilishly handsome grease dog she had to talk to and profusely thank for his thoughtfulness.

Exiting her apartment and letting the door swing shut behind her, Kagome made it to the top of the stairs before realizing she had a bit of a problem and she pouted in frustration. Dammit, how was she going to get down the stairs with a bum ankle? She eyed the railing and winced; while wholly intact, it didn’t look very sturdy and Kagome didn’t trust it to hold her weight if she leaned too much into it. So she supposed that left one other option left because she was getting own those stairs, goddammit.

Heaving a sigh of resignation, Kagome rolled her eyes and knelt down before falling back onto her butt with a grunt. Then, lifting her foot to keep her weight off of it, Kagome scooted on down the stairs one by one, feeling a bit like a child, but knowing it was the only way without possibly losing her balance and falling down the stairs.

Several minutes later and with a slightly sore butt, Kagome used the railing to heave herself to her feet. She deliberately didn’t think about how she’d get back up the stairs as she hobbled the few feet to Inuyasha’s door. Sucking in a bracing breath, and trying to control the wild fluttering of her heart rate, Kagome lifted a hand to knock gently—

The door swung open before her knuckles could make contact and she was left blinking up into the scowling visage of her downstairs neighbor.

Kagome blinked. Smiled. “Hi.”

Inuyasha crossed his arms and glowered down at her. Wearing a tight black t-shirt and dark-washed jeans, he looked rather intimidating with those stern golden eyes glaring at her with clear disapproval and his mouth turned down into an annoyed frown.

Kagome’s smile faded a little at his less than receptive greeting and she felt a flush coloring her cheeks. She shifted her weight and didn’t miss the way his eyes flashed down to her ankle. His scowl deepened and she suspected she knew the reason for his apparent irritation.

“Um…how did you—”

“I heard you on the stairs,” he cut her off before promptly bending down and sweeping her up into his arms.

Gasping sharply, Kagome could feel her face growing very warm as Inuyasha effortlessly carried her into his home and then set her down onto his two-seater couch, being careful not to jostle her ankle. Wide-eyed and face very red, Kagome watched as he sat on the coffee table before her and wordlessly held out his hand.

She blinked at him. He wiggled his fingers, clearly impatient, and when all she did was stare at him, Inuyasha sighed, reached down, and lifted her foot to prop against his knee. Tugging the slipper off, he carefully began unraveling the bandage around her ankle, needing to see if it had gotten better or worst since last night. He could feel the weight of her slightly stunned gaze on him as he worked but he ignored it, trying valiantly to keep a tight rein on the anger simmering just below the surface.

“Idiot,” he snapped as the bandage fell to the floor and lifted angry amber eyes to lock with sheepish caramel-colored depths. “What the hell were you thinking going down those stairs by yourself? You could have fallen and ended up with something far worse than just a sprained ankle! What part of ‘stay off of it as much as you can’ didn’t you understand, stupid girl?”

Indignant that he would immediately assume she walked down the stairs, Kagome leveled him with a mulish glare and pursed her lips. Color filtered into her cheeks at the obvious reprimand and she huffed, crossing her arms.

“First of all, I didn’t walk down the stairs, I scooted, and second, how else am I supposed to get around when I don’t own any crutches? Oh wait, just let me go fetch the bloody wheelchair I keep stashed in my closet for a random twisted ankle!”

Inuyasha snorted at her “scooted” comment and tried very hard not to grin at that highly amusing mental image his brain supplied as he gently prodded at the swollen flesh of her ankle. Kagome hissed and flinched. His ears pinned against his head and his frown deepened as he carefully turned her ankle over in his hand.

“Sprained,” he repeated, studying the light bruising that was starting to come in. “Not twisted. It’s mild, though, so should heal within a few days. Provided you stay off it like you should have been doing.”

Kagome frowned. “But the doctor—”

“Is an idiot,” he finished and gently let her foot back on the floor. “And it was probably the end of his shift, you were no doubt his last patient, and was probably too tired to give a rat’s ass if it was twisted or sprained, so he didn’t and just said to stay off it. Which you didn’t.”

“Well, unless you expected me to fly to the bathroom—”

He gave her a look and she rolled her eyes.

“Okay, okay, I get it. Jeez, I’ll stay off the damn foot.”

Satisfied, Inuyasha grunted and stood up. “You want anything to drink? Coffee?”

Kagome perked up at the prospect of hot coffee. She’d meant to make herself a cup but then promptly forgot about it when she decided to come down here instead.

“Coffee would be great,” she said but then faltered when Inuyasha walked toward the kitchen without another word. “Wait, Inuyasha! Ah…damn.”

Huffing, Kagome deliberated for about half a second before getting to her feet and limping her way after him. She was determined to thank him, dammit, if it was the last thing she did!

When her ankle started protesting too much, she hopped the rest of the way and managed to reach the doorway before having to stop to rest, leaning against the doorjamb. Standing in front of his coffee machine, Inuyasha’s ear flicked behind him before he looked over his shoulder at her and then promptly muttered a curse, rolling his eyes.

“Inuyasha,” Kagome said and tipped him a smile as he started toward her. But before she could continue, the half-demon bent down, wrapped his arm around her thighs, and promptly hoisted her over his shoulder.

Kagome squeaked in surprise, the blood rushing to her face to paint it a lovely scarlet color as Inuyasha stalked back into his living room and dumped her back onto the couch.

“Stay,” he told her, jabbed a finger at her face with a pointed look, then disappeared into the kitchen again, grumbling under his breath.

Kagome pouted and sunk back into the couch, glaring mulishly at the dark flat screen television across from her. For lack of anything better to do since she was evidently sequestered to the couch while Mr. Moody made her coffee, Kagome took in her surroundings.

She suspected that at one point in time, the entire apartment house had been one unit before it was split in two and what she was staring at now was the original décor. Inuyasha’s walls were covered with that fake wood paneling and the carpet, while clean, was faded red shag. A huge, old brick fireplace took up one corner of the room and she had to wonder if some of the shelving on the walls was original, too.

Honestly, Kagome liked it. It was charming, cozy with a rustic feel to it, and for some reason it suited the half-demon in the kitchen. Despite just having met him last night, she got the sense that he liked to live simply, without all the bells and whistles that her own upgraded apartment had.

The upstairs must have been a more recent addition, Kagome surmised. Or at the very least had a recent renovation to attract more tenant applicants. If she had to guess, the oldest thing in her own apartment was probably the furnace. She didn’t mind, though; why fix what ain’t broke, right?

Her thoughts were interrupted when Inuyasha walked in from the kitchen holding a streaming mug of delicious java and a plate of what looked to be toast. Kagome blinked in surprise as her mouth twitched upward. He’d made her breakfast, too?

He set both items on the coffee table in front of her and Kagome saw that the toast was in actuality a toasted sandwich with a fried egg and tomato. Her stomach rumbled in appreciation as her heart warmed even further at her neighbor’s seemingly endless consideration. Goodness, at this rate, she was going to fall—

“Wait,” Kagome said when Inuyasha once again started to leave. Thankfully this time he stopped, half-turning toward her and cocking a single brow in silent inquiry.

“Thank you,” she blurted.

Inuyasha shrugged. “It’s just coffee and the sandwich was easy—”

“That’s not what I meant,” Kagome gently cut him off and then gave him a warm, genuine smile. “I mean, thank you for everything, Inuyasha. For coming to see if I was okay last night after I fell, for taking me to the hospital, for…”

She blushed. “For putting me to bed. And yes, for this, too.”

Kagome gestured to the coffee and food and leveled him with another soft smile, her eyes glittering with unconcealed appreciation and warmth.

“Just…thank you,” she said sincerely. “I came down here because I wanted to tell you that in person, not through a text. Sorry for making you worry.”

Inuyasha stared at her and could feel his cheeks warming with a slight flush because yeah, she had worried him when she’d come down those stairs by herself. Wench was clearly more perceptive than he’d anticipated and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of that yet. One thing he was certain of, however, was that when she smiled at him like that his stomach did this weird swooping thing and something warm blossomed in his chest. His mouth suddenly felt dry and he had to swallow once, twice before he felt like he could speak again.

Ah…shit.

Not trusting his voice to not crack and hoping his face wasn’t as red as he feared, Inuyasha merely nodded before disappearing down the hall.

Pleased her gratitude had been adequately conveyed and recalling how cute he’d looked while blushing, Kagome finally allowed herself to enjoy the breakfast Inuyasha had so generously provided. The sandwich was delicious, the coffee was the perfect temperature, and she didn’t know how he’d done it, but her attractive silver-haired neighbor had added the perfect amount of cream to sweeten it just how she liked it. The man was a Godsend and hell yes she was grateful that he was her neighbor and not someone else’s.

She’d just polished off the sandwich and was settling back into the cushions with her coffee cradled in her hands when Inuyasha reappeared and her eyebrows rose in pleasant surprise. He’d put all that glorious silver hair up into a haphazard bun and was in the process of jamming a black ball cap onto his head as he headed for the door. Kagome blinked. Was he leaving?

“Are you going somewhere?” she asked, watching as he shrugged on a leather jacket and grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter that divided the two rooms, similar to her own.

“Just gonna run a few errands,” he rumbled and double checked to make sure he had his wallet and phone. “Stay put. I’ll be back soon.”

Kagome frowned. “But—”

Before Kagome could even draw in the breath to gasp, Inuyasha was suddenly right in front of her and leaning down with his arms caging her on either side. Her eyes widened and her face erupted in color, butterflies taking flight in her belly as her heart skipped a beat.

Staring directly into her eyes and trying very hard to ignore how fucking wonderful she smelled, Inuyasha narrowed his eyes and growled, “Do. Not. Move. From his couch. I’ll know if you did. Capisce?”

Eyes side, Kagome swallowed thickly, licked her lips, and nodded.

Inuyasha’s gaze flicked to her mouth then back to her eyes too fast for her to process before he emitted a low grunt and pushed away. Kagome released a breath she didn’t even know she was holding and silently watched as he headed toward the door.

She bit her lip. “Inu—”

He stopped, jabbed at finger at her, and Kagome’s jaw clicked shut. Satisfied, Inuyasha opened the door and exited his apartment, closing the door behind him.

Kagome stared at the door and stayed put…for five seconds. Quickly, in case he came back for whatever reason, Kagome got to her feet and hobbled as fast as she could down the hall toward the bathroom.

Hey, it wasn’t her fault her bladder decided to tell her she had to pee right before he walked out the door!

[youarejesting]

Quarantine.2

[Masterlist] Pairing: BTS x reader (i don’t know if this will have ships or just friendship or what I am just letting it run its course) Genres: friendship, drama, romance Rating: All Summary: Your brother works with a few BigHit dance teams and whilst having permission to accompany him at work the city shuts down banning anyone from stepping outside for a whole WEEK while they disinfect the streets. If you step outside you might get arrested, shot or poisoned by the chemicals they are emitting through the city. Words: 3.1k  Announcement: I have 901 followers this. I can’t thank you guys enough. Stay safe. (this has a tiny inspiration from the movie exit and that is that they can’t go outside that's about it)

[Part 1]  [Part 3]  [Tag Yourself Here]

When the sun poured in from the window, you deemed it time to wake up, though you hadn’t actually slept, not that you didn’t try. There were specific requirements you needed to sleep. It had to be pitch black with soft tone music in the background and there had to be air running across your face by a fan or you would feel claustrophobic.

Stepping out into the hall, you heard two young female employees talk as they passed about ‘hot water running out’. Following them down the hall you saw the first set of bathrooms. It was packed, the line stretched out down the hall. 

“Maybe we should try the bathroom on the third floor?” one of the two women said,  “No these are the best and it will be packed as well so we should just stand in line.”  

You walked away and to the third floor to see the line, you weren’t worried about showering anytime soon. It was also out the door with tired men and women sitting against the wall. Humming thoughtfully you remembered the storage room, there was an old bathroom beside it, what are the chances there was a shower in there. 

Taking the service elevator to the basement. It was clean and brightly lit, just as it had been the day before. There were cameras in some corners of the halls. You walked to the end cautiously, why did basements have such a bad reputation. Seeing the familiar storage room ahead of you and to the right was the bathroom. You pushed the door open hesitantly; you saw the stalls they were clean and unused, and like luck would have it the last had a shower. Locking the door you showered quickly the water was hot because there was a personal hot water system in the corner of the stall. 

With a towel wrapped securely around your chest, you quickly ducked into the storage room. Cleaning up a little and hanging ropes across the pipes on the walls. Making a makeshift clothesline to hang the clothes you had washed in the shower. There were some old costumes and props and hoodies. Searching the piles of clothing for something that fit. You found something you were nervous to wear. Embarrassingly you had found a box of old merch and discontinued items in various sizes, none of it had been worn they all still had tags and were sealed in their packets folded professionally. 

You pulled out a set of BT21 underwear in your size and felt your face grow hot if you were caught wearing these character underwear you would be mortified. You found what looked like a plain black hoody in an XXL and slipped it on. It reached to your knees. You chose this size as there were no pants in the pile and boxes you had searched just hoodies and underwear. 

You took the service elevator up to your floor and stepped out walking past the two women who had lined up in front of you still haven’t gone in. Continued walking you slowed past the boys meeting room you could hear groans of annoyance, “there is no hot water and the lines for the showers are huge” 

Deciding to take pity and potentially losing your secret shower, you knocked on the door. Met by a dishevelled Jin. Slipping past him and shutting the door, the room had a very manly musky scent and you blushed “I um… found a secret shower with a personal hot water system but you have to promise to keep it a secret or I won’t tell you?”

Their eyes lit up. Scrambling to you. You told them to pack their shower stuff in a discreet bag and they lined up waiting. 

“Follow me?” Turning and peeking out the door you heard them gasp and start laughing hysterically. You froze confused, had your hoody rode up and exposed your underwear. Tugging the back of the hoody down you sighed in relief realising that wasn’t the case. Whipping around to see they were hanging off each other trying to suppress their laughter.  “what is it?”

“We didn’t know you were a fan of Suga?” “Who?” They pointed at the small thin young man, his eyes sleepy and his face blank, the corners of his mouth seemed permanently turned down.  “You're wearing my uh merch, it says ‘Suga’ on the back” you turned to have a look and facepalmed. 

Yoongi couldn’t help laughing at your shocked reaction, his eyes lost all their sleepiness and turned into rainbow arches, his soft cheeks lifting and his smile revealed. You could see his pink gums and you knew he was genuinely amused. 

“I uh stole it from the storage room, I thought it was a plain black hoody you have a lot of merch clothes down there,” Leading them from the room and past the line of employee’s to the service elevator.  “Why do you take the service elevator?”  “What services will we get when the whole city is stuck indoors? And the regular elevator is small and busy” 

“You are pretty smart?” Namjoon nudged you with his shoulder, which would have been fine if your body wasn’t tired and lethargic from lack of sleep. Stumbling back into Jimin’s arms. “Thank you, I find I can be smart when I need to be” The doors opened and like every time you stepped into the basement you felt like you were in some action or horror movie. 

“This is where we die?” Hoseok laughed his voice cracking a little. You laughed, actually laughed. There was something about the way he said it in English with his cute accent.

“That’s what I think every time I come down here. The bathroom is in there, there is only one shower but if you wash your clothes with the bucket and the generic soap I stole from the supply cupboard down the hall, you can wash your clothes and hang them in the storage room. It has decent ventilation down here so they won’t take to long to dry”

You left them to it, going back to the storage room, cleaning some more you found a board game and some promotional cans of drinks. There were some more clothes in another box, you tried to find a pair of pants that would fit but were unlucky. You couldn’t have it all. 

You sighed hanging a long white fabric backdrop over the slightly stained couch. Sitting as you emptied some more product boxes while waiting. You were tired but you couldn’t sleep. Deciding to use the BT21 makeup, you found you put on some makeup and smiled it was nice. You wondered why the storage room was filled with random bits of their work. 

You finished applying the lip tint when they walked in clean wearing only towels, “oh um” you turned to cover your eyes, “you have clothes and costumes over there”

They all sorted through the clothes and dressed while you faced the corner of the room. When they said they were done, you walked back to the couch to find it already occupied. “You look happier” Examining the group of boys, Taehyung was tying his shoes on the couch and Jimin and Yoongi were talking quietly looking up and down your legs your cheeks tinted pink 

Jin and Jungkook were hanging out washing and they stopped staring at your bra and underwear, causing you to get redder especially your neck and ears. Taehyung hooked his finger under the hem of the hoodie you were wearing and gently pulled it up at the side. With a squeal and a jump, you flailed slapping his hand away. 

“Taehyung, you can’t just do that?” Namjoon scolded and Taehyung blushed holding his hands up in defence.  “Sorry I wasn’t trying to look at your underwear I was just wondering if you had pants on, but, um… are you wearing Cooky underwear?” Jungkook froze his cheeks going red and you looked away refusing to answer your face feeling like it was on fire. “I don’t know the character names but it’s a bunny?”

“Oh JayKay you lucky boy” Hoseok slapped the younger boys back and you frowned.  “Again I just wore what was clean and I could find” You walked out of the room unable to stand to be near them your face was too warm. On your way back to the corridor they all caught up joining you in the elevator to the second floor. You were all going to the dining room for some breakfast. 

Your brother again was nowhere to be found, many of the boys were wearing prescription glasses complaining about not having contacts.  “You look good don’t worry” you mumbled to Jin and he seemed to fluff right up like a proud peacock blowing a kiss at you from one end of the table. 

Taehyung sat in front of you and it was kind of hard to eat. He was so handsome. His face was mesmerising. His eyebrows were thick and eyelashes were long. He had rounded ears that stuck out giving him a silly kind of look but you thought it was so cute. You seemed mesmerised by the tiny freckle on his nose. 

Eating slowly giving up your kimchi again and settled for rice and the lightly seasoned side dishes. “You mustn’t like kimchi,” Namjoon said “It’s a strong flavour I am still getting used to but as for now it is making my stomach hurt my body is not used to fermented foods” “But kimchi is so delicious” Hoseok defended

“It’s like, imagine how you would feel if you had to eat bread every day your body would react. It’s nice at first but then you get sick of it, wanting something you are used to eating. Your body would bloat unused to the carbs. My body does the same thing with kimchi but instead of bloating if I eat it I might just vomit”

Yoongi nodded understanding and you sighed “I just want something bland like mash potatoes and chicken with no chilli or kimchi just plain food, just once” you sighed pushing the food around your plate Jungkook laughed beside you his teeth were adorable, and when he smiled his eyes did too you were lost for a moment. He handed you some of the plain food from his plate. They were all really handsome and you had to keep yourself from saying or doing anything embarrassing. 

Parting ways you went to find your brother, he was practising with the dancers. You sat watching, even helping one of the students through the routine. Dancing was a family trait, you had been dancing for as long as you can remember but you didn’t anymore, you had gotten so many rejections from your auditions that you finally gave up. 

So your brother tried not to act too surprised when he saw you standing and doing the very basic steps to show his student the routine. They were practising for a festival which might not even be held due to the virus. sighing, the kids all took a break and your brother left sparring you a glance. 

Frozen in place you didn’t know you were walking until you were face to face with the stereo. Pressing the play button the music played and all you could hear was the rejection. 

‘I am sorry you didn’t get the part’ 

‘We regret to inform you, your audition was not accepted’ 

‘You didn’t make it to the final audition round better luck next time’. 

Shutting off the music you were having a panic attack. Again. Racing out of the room, you ran straight into Hoseok. He grabbed your arm. Looking down at your face, “hey breathe it’s okay, look at me and breathe” You copied his breathing until you felt yourself slump against his chest. He rubbed your back, “Hey, tell me what’s wrong?”

You hadn’t let any tears slip not this time, and you were determined to keep it that way. “It’s nothing” “Come on, that was not nothing?” He squeezed your hand, “tell me about it, I am a really good listener” He sat you down in your brother’s office and poured you some water, “it’s stupid” “Nothing is stupid if it makes you react like that?”

“I used to do something I pursued it and loved it very much, but everyone rejected me, said I wasn’t good enough said I wouldn’t become anything and after all the rejection I couldn’t take it anymore I couldn’t even think about this thing without panicking, I miss it so much, it use to make me happy. I use to get an electric buzz through my body and it was surreal. I could express myself and become whoever I wanted to be, but now all I hear is their voice telling me no”

“I understand, I wasn’t always this famous guy, I was a street dancer, I tried and tried and tried and I got rejections after rejections until one day I got scouted by BigHit” “How many times were you rejected? If you had to take a guess.” “Fifty to a hundred at least”  “I was rejected 873 times, I had a tally that’s the equivalent of being rejected every day for two and a half years, forgive me if I felt worthless”

“Don’t let the no’s stop you okay, keep pushing until you get that yes because a life of struggle is better than a life of regret” he smiled patting your knee before leaving quietly and you sat there confused. 

You spent the day thinking about it, it scared you how your feet began itching to dance. Your body wanted to move. You walked past the dance studio rooms at least three times before finally, you got the courage to step inside. You sat off to the side watching your brother and Hoseok perfect their routine. 

“Hello” Namjoon smiled as the two of you were talking, he started teaching you a tiny bit of Korean, you only got through greetings, my name is, how are you? Where is the___? what is this? It was fun and took your mind off the dancing. 

You caught your foot tapping and left the room slowly before the feeling caught up with you. You went to the basement and to the storage room your clothes were almost dry, you continued searching through the boxes and bags of clothes and found some more stuff. It was a shirt that said plus multiply plus in yellow and blue, and the sweat pants you found the tag said soobin and was a perfect fit. 

Slipping them in a bag you headed upstairs, everyone went to dinner. Sitting beside your brother you ate slow, mind wandering with what if’s. He was right a life full of what if’s and regret was worse than the rejection. Your brother was talking adamantly with his students and the dance team, you ate what you could before you excused yourself leaving. Laying in the storage room you really couldn’t get the feeling out of your body or the music out your head. Your fear had morphed, you were scared to feel the joy that only dancing could bring, a fear of how bad you must be after the long break.

It was torture, it got dark. You got changed and travelled up the stairs this time trying to tire yourself out or slow yourself down because you knew exactly where you were headed. You took your time and you finally arrived on the fourth floor. You stepped into the empty dance studio and turned on the lights dimming them so they gave a faint glow, you didn’t want to alert anyone that you were inside. 

Turning down the stereo system you plugged your phone in and started a slow song, it started small, feeling the music, trying a few moves and stopping you didn’t have anything to go on just yet you were warming up. When none of the songs could draw anything out of you, you switched to the CD and hit play on whatever was inside. The song title appeared on the small led screen ‘Louder than bombs’. The music was able to move you, it had been so long you danced the lyrics ripping through you 

Louder than bombs I break. 

You finished the song crying and you wanted to do it again but the next song had you with the beat of the drums it was called ‘On’. Slowly getting into the songs each one bringing out a new emotion. Expressing everything you had, you had gone through the album twice. Dancing to black swan, the music died out when you heard clapping and turned falling on your behind. 

There was a slapping sound and a deep “ow what was that for?” “Tae, She isn’t supposed to know we are here idiot” The lights grew a little brighter and you saw the BTS boys and your brother.  You frowned “how long have you been here?” “I have been here since pretty much the start,” Hoseok rubbed the back of his neck “you were dancing to some English songs”

“I came in halfway through louder than bombs the first time” Jimin grinned doing a few of the moves he memorised. “Your brother was looking for you, we had been searching everywhere,” Namjoon said “We worried you went outside”

“Your dancing was really nice?” Jungkook said “I liked what you did with my song and the black swan dance you did was very pretty” “Y/n I haven’t seen you dance in years” Your brother stepped forward, you were feeling a little overwhelmed, “it was really good?”

“Well remember it because I am still not dancing” Trying not to cry the declaration ripping through your chest. Namjoon started explaining the meaning behind black swan you looked at your shaking hands “I have to go I really can’t do this” you tried to push past them as you staggered off down the hallway wiping your eyes on your sleeve. 

“It was nice” You froze the gravelly tone made you turn. Yoongi walked over and placed his hand on your head awkwardly patting it. While refusing to look at you. “I have never seen anyone move like that to my songs before, it made it seem like it was something more I don’t know beautiful it looked like actual art” 

He shuffled looking a bit nervous. Walking away leaving you dumbfounded. Sure it was one thing to hear. ‘You are so good’  but it was another to hear the sincerity in someone’s voice as they said something as deep and meaningful about your dancing like Yoongi had said to you. He called your dancing ‘Art’ for crying out loud. That’s the highest compliment you could possibly think of at this moment.

[Part 1] [Part 3]  [Tag Yourself Here]

[originalcontent]

Well, I forgot to post yesterday after we played, so here we are with Pathologic part 3! Ironically we also started Act III of the game yesterday, so that’s fun. The last couple days have been pretty mellow on the meta-fuckery, but I still have lots of feelings. Here we go.

Game is. FUCKING stressful. I stop playing the game and I’m like “wow that was wonderful, what cool writing and directing and characters, so much fun, we should play more of this soon” and then I start actually playing and it is just stress stress stress stress stress stress

I just have been of absolutely zero help at the hospital. Literally all I’ve done has been going, taking all the medicine, and then leaving. Stakh, Daniil, I’m sure the two of you can save the town. I trust you both wholeheartedly. Couldn’t ask for more capable hands. You two can handle that while I spend the whole game babysitting, okay?

Are the days actually getting shorter? Day 5 felt like it took ages. Maybe because I didn’t clock-watch as much as I did the last couple times?

I saved Notkin!!!!!!!!! I haven’t really gotten much shmowder (only got one left), but I used it and it was worth it. I love Notkin and it broke my heart to see him all wrapped up like that. 

Kahn is infected now though. I gave him immunity boosters but it wasn’t enough. :(

Why does the disease have a fucking hit list????? I will kill you!!!!

Okay so Gravel asked me for help with bringing a water barrel into her house so she could make a homeless shelter, and I was like “maybe” but I couldn’t figure out how to get one for her? At some point this guy was guarding a barrel and was like “did Dankovsky send you to inspect this for contamination” and I lied and said yes but I didn’t have any empty bottles so I couldn’t take a sample, and I was just like “whatever” and left, but thinking back on it, that was probably a place I could have said I had to confiscate the barrel and then just brought it to Gravel, but I was trying to move on quickly bc I needed to talk to someone. Anyway, at the end of the day the game was like “congratulations you successfully prevented an outbreak at Lara Ravel’s house, good job” so I guess I saved the day through utter inaction? I dunno, maybe the changeling was right and I should just do nothing all game.

I have a daughter now too???? God, I won’t be able to save Sticky and Murky, I’m so scared. At least she came inside eventually? She was literally sitting outside of my lair all night when the sand plague was in our zone.

I really like Victor Kain. People keep blaming the Kains for all sorts of fucked up shit, so I get all angry and visit their house and say “hey, this is a problem???” And it’s never actually their fault, and Victor is just “you’re right that is a problem, let’s address it immediately” and then he does.

I suck so fucking much at the combat. Seriously, I’m embarrassingly bad. We had to rescue Stakh a couple times from my fellow kinfolk, and I would just hand over controls to my sister, who hasn’t actually been using controls for any of the game, and she just does it.

Speaking of Stakh. He was really terrible to me, but I think maybe he’s just upset at Artemy for leaving him? idk he’d better be fucking grateful for us for saving him in spite of everything he said on day 1, but I’m willing to forgive him.

I have basically no food or protective clothes or weapons left and I’m all out of money. At least I have a lot of fucking twyre. I’m SO BAD AT THIS GAME.

Apparently there’s a valuable herb that only grows in diseased districts, so I guess I’m literally never going to get any.

After I got attacked in the street that one time I have been Maximum Paranoid literally everywhere. Stress stress stress stress stress stress.

I love all the kids so much. Honestly I really like how children are written for this game in general. There’s that mix of irresponsibility and desiring freedom while also depending on adults for a lot of things, and they have unique personalities without any of them being at all gimmicky.

But, once again, WHY DOES THE DISEASE HAVE A HIT LIST

Additionally I love love love how Artemy talks to kids. He’s willing to meet them on their level and riff with them, and he’s willing to talk straight with them and be honest, and he tries to at least somewhat take responsibility for the safety of all the kids he meets. It’s not that he’s above accepting help from kids, it’s just that when they do something dangerous in order to help him, he gets really upset and is like “what the fuck, you could have gotten yourself hurt or sick, and for my sake??? Never do that again!”

And while Artemy does take responsibility for a lot of other people and the town, I also like how he absolutely doesn’t take responsibility for things that are out of his hands. People try to blame him for a lot of shit in this game, and he just doesn’t apologize, he tells them straight up that he won’t allow them to blame him for things he couldn’t have reasonably changed or for the choices that they themselves make.

I just really love him, okay?

Clara apologized to me and asked me to check on the Saburovs, so I did. My sister says we shouldn’t trust her though.

I got some bulls blood. Gonna show it to Daniil. Hopefully he’s as excited as I am. It’s the middle of the night.

My sister doesn’t want to visit the pantomimes any more after the last time we played. I...guess that’s fair. I’m curious, but on the other hand this game is already stressful enough.

And it’s probably going to get even more stressful so looking forward to that! :)

[soyouareandrewdobson]

Alex ze Pirate Mini Review 2: Underappreciated and how Sam should deal with an abuser.

Last time I gave a general overview of how Sam is treated by his “friends”. Now I want to give a more specific example, that will also show how Dobson’s storytelling abilities are not really all that good, particularly when it comes to pacing or building up any sort of conflict.

You see, for the most part Alex ze Pirate is just a collection of stupid artwork (not even concept art, just random artwork Dobson makes of his characters dressed as something random) and one page strips with a stupid punchline, with Sam most of the time being the receiving punching bag.

There have however been a few individual, short stories over time. And when I say short stories, I mean short. As in 15 pages for a very cheap set up, a few jokes and a punchline. Those include stories such as All that Glitters (where everyone except Alex breaks into a fortress to steal something), The Wish Fish (the only halfway okay story of them all because it is just meant to be comedic) and Best Laid Plans. However, near the end of the initial run of AzP, Dobson did a three part story (partly) focused on Sam in that format, which started off with the chapter I want to talk in this post: “Underappreciated”.

As you can see, the chapter starts off following some basic rules of storytelling in comics. Two establishing panels for the location at which the story takes place initially and showing what Sam’s duties are. Nothing really bad yet. The only thing that sticks out being just the fact that a) Sam does not have his own bedroom and has to sleep in a useless outlook and b) he sleeps in his regular clothes. But hey, nothing to get upset about initially, perhaps he just prefers it like this at the moment. But with the next two pages…

The problems start to show. Page three establishing that Atea herself is just a cunt who can’t even have the basic decency of wishing her “friend” a good morning or giving him a thank you for bringing a morning beverage as she has other selfish priorities on her mind. Like wanting to lick the shower water of Alex’s skin.

Also, go fuck yourself Uncle Peggy. As in, get both your arms ripped off, shoved up your butthole with those hooks and then get hanged on those stomps like a chandelier. I wouldn’t even mind the fact here that Peggy left a mess, if the face he makes in the last panel was not obvious of the fact he left the bathroom like this on purpose and that he is rather happy of making Sam’s day extra miserable by the fecal matter he left behind. Combined with any previous strip of the comic showing that Peggy for no reason likes to get the boy in trouble and even wants to see him die, this just shows once more of how much of an asshole he is. If the last panel just showed him with a groogy hangover look, obviously unaware of how much discomfort he brings unintentionally to Sam, that would be one thing. But intentionally making Sam’s day miserable despite the obvious fact the boy is the first one to do anything around here, while making one of the worst drawn “HAHA, I am such a rascal faces” I have ever seen (and I have seen shitty anime en mass) makes me hate the character more than Dobson intented.

And then there is page 5…

And it is in my opinion the saddest page in the entire comic arc, even compared to the “heartbreaking” stuff Dobson wants to pull up in the last third of it. Because though it is meant as a joke, the general execution is too cruel, crossing into “dude, not funny” territory and showing just how little the crew cares for Sam. Talus, Sam’s “best friend” not even aware he is around, everyone stealing Sam’s food with that stupid “Yoink” sound (seriously, I wish the characters would get punched in the vaginas each time they make this sound in any of Dobson’s strips) and then leaving Sam behind with smug faces, ready to do whatever they want to do, while he, likely stinking of feces and not even having showered properly, has also to clean up after those pigs, who can’t even eat in a proper manner ( hey Atea, use a fork instead of holding the bowl) and silently. I mean, they are pretty much pigs when the noises they make are loud enough, they make the font of the writing change randomly into whatever Dobson has on his computer with every sound. Not to forget the mess they leave behind. And they call Sam the Slob?

Anyway, on to the next page…

And who the heck left their Hello Kitty toy in the bathtub? Also, I hate the way Alex’s face is drawn in the lower left corner. Something about the eyes in relation to the shit eating grin just looks off. Less “smug” and gleefully awaiting whatever she plans next and looking more like Dobson when someone tells him his opinion and reasoning for it is bad, but he can’t yell back at them because they are part of a minority and so he has make a “good face” to a bad situation, while internally he is already imagining how to strawman them in some fake news worthy facebook post.

And then we get to page 7. Which features the WORST addition to the “Alex ze Pirate” canon Dobson has ever thought up. An embodiment of what is wrong with Dobson when it comes to inserting internet culture related stuff into his own work. Ladies and gentlemen… the lolcat pirates

Yeah, those Hello Kitty rejects who ironically look still more like a proper cat than Spot in Danny and Spot, are essentially one of the worst jokes Dobson has ever created. Because they are a joke without a punchline. See, all there is to them is that they are sentient cats, that speak in a manner associated with lolcat posting. And that is the “joke”. Their speech pattern being based on a dumb internet meme that was popular at the time Dobson drew this page. It is like if you portray an Asian by making them talk with a shitty racist accent and that supposedly counts already as comedy. It is not funny, because there is nothing really done with it in context of the story. Like no one addresses the weird way they talk. Also, with the font Dobson uses, it is just an eyesore to any reader and the text gets aggravating the more the captain of the cats talks. It shows why lolcat pictures only had very short sentences accompanying the pics, cause reading more than 8 words written in this manner tingles a part of your brain that makes you want to shout “English motherfucker, do you speak it”?

Don’t get me even started on how the joke would get lost to anyone unaware of lolcats and how dated the joke already was back when the page was posted, which is one of many reasons why comic artists should just in general avoid memes in their work, if they hope for it to pass the test of time. Instead let me just point out the fact that though Alex said “All hands prepared for casting off” on the previous page (which is also a very unnatural way to give the order “Everyone get ready! Take off in 10 minutes”) not all hands are on board, seeing how Uncle Peggy is missing on this page (and spoilers) many pages of this afterwards. Weird. I thought he would be onboard the moment Alex mentioned they are going to hijack a ship full of pussy. Lastly, this is Alex being a “badass”? Taking over a ship full of little furballs you can defeat with a laserpointer, a squeaky toy and catnip? Sam, this is not just “almost” embarrassingly easy, this is literally on a level similar to stealing candy from a baby. That is mentally handicapped. And without supervision. In a candy story.

At least it turns out there is genuinely something worth stealing on this ship. Otherwise all Alex would have accomplished on that very day would have been animal abuse for the sake of entertainment. Though now it also gets me thinking: A place called Katsville, the revelation that the captain is supposedly the child of a high ranking military feline within the sea force of an entire species of sentient cats… how exactly does the world of Alex ze Pirate function? Look, I do not want to get into too much detail about this point here yet, because it is a bigger issue with the worldbuilding (or rather lack thereof) of this series in general, but what is the “consistency” when it comes to races and species in this world? See, One Piece for example is overall a very “cartoonish” and fantastic world (more cartoonish than what Dobson creates on average) when you think of the fact there are fish men, giant seacows and seamonsters, sentient furry creatures, islands in the sky, sentient weather phenomenons etc next to humans. And while Oda does not really spend time elaborating in very high detail how his world works, the sheer abundance of those elements and how they were established pretty early on in the story and are revisited constanly, with the cartoonish flavor and humor of One Piece on top of it, makes those oddities feel organic and a part of the world.

Not so much in AzP. Here over 90% of the time any character not related to the crew is some generically drawn human, in a very generically human setting with jokes just not cartoonish enough. So the world of AzP feels more “realistic” and less oddish, making then things like Talus, the lolcat pirates and once a giant sea dragon that looked like Elliot’s rejected cousin

Stand out like a sour thumb that looks like this

But I digress. Lets see what makes Sam, who just seems bored and wants to end his miserable life/drink his sorrows away, throw the cat captain against the wall.

Okay. Sam’s overall reaction makes it clear, the locket is important. So “kudos” for establishing this and in doing so also create within a moment a bit of intrigue for the reader. After all, why does this locket get such a reaction out of Sam, who we know so far as more happy go lucky or deadpan in parts, instead of looking genuinely distraught. Heck, the fact he even tells Alex to shut up when she commands him around should highlight how out of character finding this locket truly makes Sam.

Then there is Alex’s reaction to being told to shut up, which she takes with as much dignity as someone telling Dobson to just stop fawning about underaged lesbians in a toddler show.

Jesus Christ, she faces being told she looks like a guy with more grace than that. I mean, isn’t she used to being told to shut her trap? Cause if I were her parents, I would have told this entitled redheaded whinner a few times over the course of her childhood to shut up.

Scum sucking cabin boy… said by a butt ugly whore who would genuinely suck scum off if it means she can finally get laid instead of being mistaken for a man. By the way, with that angry face she makes in the first panel, I can totally see why others would mistake her for a dude. She just looks unpleasant and not in a funny way like that red panda girl from Aggretsuko. See, when she gets angry, it looks hilarious and cute because of the contrast to how the character looks ordinarily. This is just Alex looking even more unpleasant as usual.

Now, before I continue with the next pages, I like to point out the face Sam makes in the upper panel and Sam’s overall body language in the last one.

It is obvious that Sam is meant to be in a state of mind where he knows for what he is getting yelled at and where he genuinely reacts in a hurt manner. His body shaking, his head tilted down, not saying even a word. You would expect that the next page of this comic would be a follow up. Seeing Sam, who is pent up, lashing out in some way. Either for example by justifying why he said it, getting sad, angry, perhaps even violent in that situation. After all, so far the way this story has been structured, a lot of emphasize was put on the fact that Sam is treated not well and that finding this locket actually has an uncommon effect on him. Heck, even the title of this chapter hints on the idea, that we should get some sort of huge reaction out of Sam now on the next page, as this is supposed to be Sam’s story.

Instead it is just Alex grumbling and grinding her teeth, unable to comprehend that someone finally told her something every reader with more than 20 braincells said when reading this comic series. And this in my opinion is from a structural point, one of the biggest missteps in this story. Obviously, this is supposed to be a comic about Sam, based on title and him being the one character in it with the most emotional aspects so far. And it is also obvious that this is not just meant to be a silly gag comic but supposedly one with emotional weight. So, where is that weight so far, aside from the panels showing Sam being miserable because he gets the short end of the stick by his friends? Sorry to hijack this thing here now with my own ideas, but if I had writen this story, page 12 and 13 would have actually been an immense turning point for me in the dynamic so far. Why I would have let Alex shout at Sam for insubordination, I would have made it more than one panel of Alex calling him scum and also end likely with Sam, who obviously reaches a limit the longer she goes on about it, end punching her in the face, perhaps even knock out. Show truly just how far Sam is pushed emotionally at this moment, keeping it however ambiguous if he hit her because of her words hurting or because of something else, in doing so focusing also the attention to the reader back on the locket.

As an aftermath of this, Alex would (if not knocked out) hit Sam back, much to Atea’s and Talus horror, later implying additionally that Sam left because of being hit by whom he thinks is not just his captain but a “friend” (oh yes spoiler, Sam is gone in the next chapter)   or the next page would be of Alex waking up back in her hideout from having been knocked out. Atea and Talus informing her what happened, her deciding to deal with Sam later on after recovering (who accompanied everyone back on the island temporarily) only for the last page showing Sam deciding that he is leaving the island, ending the chapter on Sam in a small boat slowly drifting away from the island. You know, something to give the chapter the feeling that the “shut up�� moment is an emotional turning point in this story and that there might be something bigger going on that resulted in Sam deciding to leave, without having him however go full Meg Griffin as in the Family Guy episode “Seashell Seahorse Party”, chewing Alex and the others out for the way they treat him. Cause honestly, as much as I like for Alex, Atea and Talus to be chewed out and face consequences for their actions, doing so would likely just be (like in that Family guy episode)  a pointless fillerbuster in the bigger picture of things, as no real consequences would come out of it.

Well that and just like the writers of Family Guy, Dobson is just equally loathsome and thinks he can write whatever sick joke he wants and can on his characters, basic decency or consistency in writing be damned.

But back to the comic, where things just “end” as shown here instead of any real emotions boiling up and a cliffhanger that may genuinely beg the question what is going to happen next to anyone involved in this thing.

 Cause really, by the time it is night and Sam says it is time to go, you are not surprised he wants to go, even if he did not have a genuine emotional outburst within this chapter. After all, who wants to stay with “friends” like this, with Talus and Atea not even trying to cheer him up and instead ignoring his obvious need for comfort in this uncomfortable way, as if they are a bunch of racists trying to look away as someone beats a black person in front of them into a pulp. The only question you may ask yourself by the time the last page is hit, is who that generic looking girl is, whose picture has been photoshopped into the locket.

 Something we may not find out by the time the next chapter and part of this review hits, but will get to eventually. Until then guys, in order to end on something happier, funnier and just genuinely more pleasant than what this story presented to us so far, have something silly and Super Sentai related here for the sake of childish entertainment.

[sm-entertain-me]

Primadonna (M)

Contains: Wong Yukhei/Lucas x (f) reader, adult language, explicit depictions of sex, oral sex (female and male receiving), throatfucking, dom/sub themes, degradation, unprotected sex, anal sex, rough sex, hate sex, hair pulling, marking/biting kink, creampie... pretty much, Lucas is a kinky little shit.

Synopsis: Lucas was sick and tired of how you acted in a social setting. You were always so bitter and resentful to those who weren't in your annoyingly high social level, but he's determined to humble you... one way or another.

A/N: Hello lovelies! I am back from a much needed break. I recently turned twenty, started my junior year in college for accounting and business management, and earned a raise from work. And now I’m back with a vengeance. I apologize to all of those who made requests while I was away and I will try my best to fulfill those in my freetime, which is pretty limited now that classes have started back up. But that’s why I made this super long, smut filled fic about Lucas to make up for my absence. Hope you enjoy and thank you for your patience!

Oh how he hated the way your lips would turn up into a sly smile any time you saw someone of the lower social level go through any kind of turmoil, showing how much you liked to watch the less fortunate suffer. He hated the way you threw your head back whenever anybody who wasn’t considered “hot” tried to utter just one syllable in your general direction, letting them know you were too important to be seen with the likes of those who tried get by with the little popularity they had. Lucas really hated you.

But even though he hated you with almost every fiber of his being, he couldn’t help but love the way you would purposely bend over whenever you wore those short skirts, exposing the delicate lace of your very sultry undergarments. Of course, you would draw out the amount of time your undergarments were on display, purposely pushing your ass out so that your current flavor of the week could get his money’s worth being used purely for eye candy. The thoughts that ran through his head was anything but pure, but Lucas surely isn’t someone to be considered pure.

You on the other hand, tended to appreciate seeing Lucas’ dark eyes mold to the shape of your legs, leading his eyes upward to the swell of your ass before he licked his lips subconsciously. You didn’t know what you liked more about Lucas: his luscious lips that shined sinfully under the blinding lights of the hall, his bad boy persona that had all the girls dropping to their knees whenever he donned a sleeveless shirt with his trademarked leather jacket, or maybe it was his deep voice that caused a small but very significant patch of wetness to form on your panties every time he spoke. Either way, you liked what you saw despite the fact your social circles would never in a million years cross. He was this tall bad boy that hung out with all the skaters and potheads whereas you were the beautiful, preppy maneater who only talked to those who boosted your social status. Pure opposites.

So when you two found each other at a frat party, you didn’t exactly know what to do when you found yourself face to face with the one person who intimidated you to no end. Lucas was wearing that stupid leather jacket with a very pristine looking “V” on the back, showing his alliance to WayV, the university’s most prolific group of boys that had every father locking their doors and rushing their daughters away from view. You were wearing a fashionable off the shoulder crop top to show off your waist, coupled with some black ripped shorts, and a simple pair of Converse. Not usually something you wore out in public, but Lucas certainly wasn’t complaining as he shamelessly checked out your figure, him feeling a slight bulging sensation within his pants. Perhaps he could play along.

“I can’t believe that the most popular and bitchiest girl on campus can be bothered to stand in front of someone like me for more than fifteen seconds, I must be special,” Lucas commented sarcastically as a sinful smirk lined his face, only to disappear from view whenever he took a sip from the mystery liquid in his solo cup. “Is that right princess? Or do you think it’s a huge mistake mingling with someone who isn’t within your obnoxiously high social status?”

After Lucas’ statement, you began to realize why your social circles are not supposed to mix, clearly offended by how crass he was being to someone as important as you. “First of all,” You started, placing your hands on your hips as you stepped forward to show you were neither impressed nor afraid of him. “I’m not this fucking primadonna everyone else has me out to be, so stop acting like I treat every person I meet like scum. And second, you’re not all that high and mighty either pal, so do us all a favor and stop playing into this super sexy bad boy role that you’re so invested in… And don’t call me princess!”

Lucas looked rather bored of you by the way he crossed his arms across his chest and looked down at you with an overwhelming amount of apathy, even taking it so far as to yawn when you spoke. Yet still, a small smirk rested on his face from earlier as he leaned his torso down so his eyes were level with yours, adding to the patronizing atmosphere that surrounded him. “Oh?” Lucas asked as his eyebrows rose, acting like your outburst was significant to him. “You’re not? Huh, interesting. Never thought you would be such a bad liar. And if you don’t want me calling you princess… Should I call you babygirl instead?”

The way his pet name rolled off his tongue sounded like it belonged there, the simple name causing you to feel uneasy. Uneasy meaning that there was definitely a wet patch starting to form on the delicate lace of your thong, your walls clenching around nothing instead of clenching around something of Lucas’. Even though the sight of Lucas made your blood boil because of how cocky he is, he damn sure knew how to get your knees to buckle. The worst part about it though was that Lucas knew he had this effect on you, but he was just waiting for the perfect opportunity to expose it. Like now.

“Babygirl, you gotta tell me what you want,” Lucas cooed as his whole frame relaxed, opting to step forward and capture your face at the space between his thumb and index finger, forcing you to look up at him. His eyes were focused on your facial features, seeing what he could do test your resolve and smirking when he realized you were completely under his spell. That’s when Lucas leaned forward as if to kiss you, but instead trailed his luscious lips along the thin skin of your ear, whispering sexily, “You know these other guys can’t satisfy you the way I can. I’m going to fuck you like the little whore you are and you’re going to love every minute of it. Come on.”

You were always a sucker for a dominant personality, something Lucas knew from the way you melted into his frame when he got you back home and ravaged your neck with his soft lips, careful to pick and choose which spot on your neck was deemed worthy of a well placed bite. Any time Lucas bit down on your neck, you would give a little yelp of surprise to which Lucas would bite harder, desperate to hear your pleas. This was the only time Lucas would ever get to show you how much he hated you; with the most amazing hate sex he could ever think of.

After Lucas was satisfied with the abhorrent shades of red littering your neck and how bruised your lips were from his rough but completely intoxicating kisses, he threw you on his bed and smirked down at you. He was proud he was able to break you down to something so vulnerable and needy for him, licking his lips as his eyes ghosted over your barely covered figure. “Strip for me,” Lucas commanded as he stood at the foot of his bed, his eyes never faltering from yours to show the intensity he held in those cold, brown orbs. Something told you that you didn’t want Lucas have to tell you twice.

Carefully, you grabbed the bottom of your crop top and lifted it high above your head, exposing the eyelash lace of your barely there bra. You took this opportunity to look up at Lucas for permission to keep going, earning a slow nod from him as his hand cupped around his manhood, palming his already significant erection in the confines of his ripped jeans. Your hands then found the top of your shorts, unbuttoning the fabric and sliding it down your thighs until they were at your ankles, laying almost bare for Lucas. But just as you were about to take your panties off, Lucas quickly stopped you by lunging at you and grabbing your wrists to hold them firmly in his hands.

“Hold on babygirl, let’s not go too fast. I want to play with you a little longer,” Lucas remarked, towering over your figure to make you seem completely submissive to him. Before you could respond to his comment, Lucas was already on top of you, settling in between your thighs and glancing down at the prominent bulge in his pants. He then took his eyes to your laced thong, smirking to himself before scooting his body down so his lips were millimeters away from your clothed pussy.

“These won’t do,” Lucas grumbled, mostly to himself. Slowly, you watched as Lucas dipped his head down, pressing a kiss against your clothed pussy. Your hips bucked up subconsciously, quickly shunted by Lucas pushing his hands down on your hips to keep you still while he glared into your eyes. Nodding quickly at Lucas to prove you wouldn’t do it again, Lucas continued to toy around with you and your aroused state. His lips went from pressing against your engorged clit to sucking on the skin above your hipbones, smirking along the skin any time he heard your mewls for him and only him. He was having too much fun with this.

Lucas’ teeth captured the band of your thong, pulling the flimsy fabric down just enough to reveal your embarrassingly drenched pussy to him. “Oh babygirl,” Lucas moaned out as his eyes focused on a small flush of liquid running down your slit. “Already so wet and eager for me… But you’re not getting rewarded for being dripping like some fucking whore off the street. You’re going to work for it.”

Without so much as a word of warning, Lucas plunged his tongue deep into your walls. A small squeal fell from your lips as your pussy was being licked and prodded by Lucas and his talented tongue, but never going to the place you needed him most. While Lucas was working wonders by eating you out like you were his last meal, he purposely neglected your screaming clit, knowing you would get fussy. And just as you were about to lean down and place your finger on your clit to give it some kind of attention, your movements were halted as Lucas grabbed each of your wrists and pinned them next to your hips. He said nothing to you as he threw your legs over his shoulders, pushing his whole face in between your legs to the point his nose was poking against your clit with every ministration he performed on your sopping hole. Oh god you were close.

But Lucas knew this too by the way he could feel your walls clenching around his talented muscle, pulling himself out of you while you whined in protest. All he did was smirk at you as he wiped your juices off of his face, looking down at you disappointingly, “You think you get to cum before I do? Oh no, my sluts wait for me to cum and wait their turn. You’ll be lucky if I even let you cum at all considering you’re the worst of them all. Now get over here and suck me off before I shove it down your fucking throat for you.”

His words were so demeaning but so sensual at the same time as you couldn’t help but nod at him, ultimately switching places with him. Lucas now sat at the head of the bed, still fully clothed with the exception of his leather jacket that now lies on a chair adjacent to the bed. You could tell by the way he was sitting that he was expecting you to undress him, not letting him lift a finger for you.

Not wanting to keep him waiting for very much longer, you joined Lucas on the bed and rested your body in between his sprawled out legs, your eyes focusing on the tent that was standing proudly in Lucas’ pants. That damn smirk was still on Lucas’ face as he watched your hands work at his belt and zipper, undoing the necessary buckles until you were face to face with Lucas’ cock, completely hard and dripping with precum. You watched as a thin drop of Lucas’ precum slide down his shaft at a painfully slow rate, making his already beautiful cock look that much more appealing. Now you really hated him.

Once Lucas threw all of the unnecessary clothing off of the bed so that he was completely bare for you, you slowly took his cock in your hands, making sure to smear precum all along his shaft as more began to spew out of his slit. Your wrist worked wonders on Lucas as you twisted your hand in all the right places, working him to his full length before he impatiently grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you so that your face was inches away from his. “I said to suck me off, not give me a pathetic handjob,” Lucas snarled as he kept his fingers laced through your hair, pulling your face down forcefully to shove his cock into your throat.

You gagged upon impact as Lucas shoved his cock so far into your mouth that it already nudged the back of your throat, tears starting to prick your eyes from the intensity of his movements on your scalp. Lucas was already disappointed in your ability to follow directions, meaning he wouldn’t let you take control in anything. Both of his hands laced their way through your hair as he constantly pushed your head down, ultimately using your throat for anything he wanted. And you just sat there, taking all the abuse Lucas had to offer while simultaneously trying to focus on not throwing up on his cock. That would really make him mad.

The torture on your throat went on for what seemed like forever, but it was probably just five minutes. Lucas was clearly enjoying using your throat as a toy given the way he threw his head back against the headboard, his eyes shut tight while his eyebrows knitted together. A flurry of curse words could be heard falling from his lips the longer he abused your throat, pushing you all the way down on his cock to the point your nose would smack against his pubic bone. If you thought the depth as bad, the speed at which he threw you down on his cock was worse, barely allowing you to recover from the next harsh thrust into your mouth.

As Lucas was nearing his climax from abusing your throat, he finally pulled you off his cock, holding your face in front of him to admire what he had done to you. Your eyes were red and swollen from the number of tears that fell thanks to your gag reflex, there was saliva mixed with Lucas’ bodily fluids covering your lips and corners of your mouth, and your face was pretty red. Even though you looked like a fucked-out mess, Lucas thought you were the sexiest thing on the planet as he moved quickly to get you underneath him, placing tender kisses along your neck as if to apologize.

“Johnny was right; you do have the softest lips,” Lucas muttered into your neck in reference to your lips being around his cock just seconds prior, still working at getting you back to normal before he would continue with the hate sex he had been saving for you for months on end. “But now I have to destroy that perfect little ass of yours.”

That came as a surprise to you considering you’ve never done anal before, something that was apparent by the look on your face as you looked up at Lucas with what could be described as fear. You’ve heard many horror stories related to anal, which is why you chose not to do it… But it’s not something you were against doing with Lucas if that’s what he wanted of you. You would do anything for him given how desperate you are for him.

In a matter of seconds, Lucas had you on your hands and knees on the bed, admiring everything he had on display for him. He never thought he would be able to have you on all fours, dripping wet for him and only him as he prepared to wreck you. Although you couldn’t see his face given you were facing away from him, you could only imagine the way Lucas was biting his lip as he bent every way he could to see your ass in all of its glory before he destroyed it.

You could feel the bed move slightly as Lucas’ thighs rubbed against the back of yours, telling you he was ready to shove himself deep inside of you. His hand reached out and rubbed your back lightly while the other one, coated with lube, rubbed all around your hole and pushed inside of you to test your resolve. You couldn’t deny it was an interesting feeling, Lucas’ finger thrusting inside of your ass lazily while his other hand massaged any apprehension and fear away slowly. Then you could feel him lean forward to have his lips ghost your ear, whispering in your ear huskily, “You didn’t think I would fuck your pathetic pussy that’s had at least twenty guys in it, did you? No, babygirl. I’m going to be the only one to fuck your ass from here on out, understand? Now be a good girl and take it.”

Without another word of warning, the hand that was previously giving you one of the most relaxing massages was now pushing down in between your shoulder blades to force your face and torso flat against the pillow, allowing Lucas more access to your ass. You could feel the generous amount of lube on Lucas’ cock as he toyed with your hole, running the tip of his cock along your hole before he gripped your right hip and slid himself in slowly, earning a gasp from you. The stretch was painful at first considering no one has ever fucked you in the ass before, but you didn’t have any time to complain as Lucas quickly pulled his hips back only to ram them back against your ass to push his cock all the way inside of you.

“Oh god, you’re so tight,” Lucas groaned as he threw his head back from feeling you clench around him, sucking him back in whenever he pulled back too far. He then continued to thrust deep inside of you, ordering you to bite the pillow whenever you felt some kind of pain because he didn’t plan on stopping anytime soon. But you didn’t want him to either because you were feeling so good, loving the way Lucas’ cock pierced deep inside you and you being able to feel every single vein and twitch of his cock.

This went on for a few more minutes: your hands gripping the edge of the bed to stabilize yourself as Lucas leaned forward and thrust deep inside of you, Lucas yelling out curse words with every thrust, his hands now on either side of your hips gripping a handful of the sheets below to keep himself together, and the sound of Lucas’ hips ramming against you. Everything about this moment was euphoric for the both of you as you could feel yourself beginning to lose yourself in the throes of passion.

“Fuck, babygirl. I’m so close,” Lucas grunted through his gritted teeth as he looked down at the space where you two became one, completely enthralled by the sight of Lucas’ lube coated cock ramming deep inside of you and loving all the sounds you made in reaction to his harsh thrusts. Lucas then reached down to grab some of your hair, leaning himself back and yanking you upwards to expose your mouth and neck to him, capturing both with his lips. His kisses on your lips were soft but the bites he delivered to your neck were filled with carnal desire as he was determined to make every inch of your neck covered in bruises to be displayed to all of your other suitors. He wanted them to know that he was the one giving you the most pleasurable experience of your life and that none of them could ever compete with him if they tried. He marked you as his and only his.

“Lucas!” You cried out in sheer pleasure as the knot in your stomach finally burst from all the feelings of pleasure coursing through your veins, screaming out in painful pleasure as your back arched against Lucas and everything clenched together tightly to signal you were cumming. Your body didn’t know what to do with the amount of pleasure, causing you to be on the brink of losing consciousness as Lucas pushed through, trying to chase your high with his so you could remember the feeling of his cum filling you up. And you were granted this feeling as Lucas gave you two deep strokes, falling apart inside of you as he came inside of you, filling you up so much that his cum spilled out of you with him still inside of you and began to drip down your legs.

None of you were in any shape to move, Lucas becoming so exhausted from the energy he put into giving you the best hate sex he could ever think of as he slumped against your back, you feeling the sweat on his body and the warmth of his skin against yours. You just laid underneath him, not caring that there was cum spilling out of you and running down your legs to connect with the sheets below you. After all, it wasn’t your house, and these were not your sheets. This was Lucas’ problem, not yours. But you figured he didn’t care as he pulled out of you slowly and went right to laying next to you, hie breathing still heavy.

After about a minute of silence, Lucas turned to look over at you, still on your stomach and still gripping the sheets in your hand. He was kind of proud of himself and how he was able to make you feel so much pleasure in one session, smirking to himself as he continued to look in your direction, “You did great, by the way. Sorry I got kind of carried away.”

“Don’t be,” You grumbled into the pillow, unable to pick your head up and look at him properly. “I’ll be ready for round two in about ten minutes.”

[chibivesicle]

Golden Kamuy chapter 246; the icon of the Ainu indeed

Well it is that time again, time to dig into the most recent chapter of GK for some meta thoughts and Ogata comments of course.  The chapter starts off with the continued brawl between Sugimoto and Ushiyama which Sugimoto is definitely losing despite his killer efforts.  See those white eyes on the title page.

But knee to the face only results in less than a reaction from Ushiyama as he blows the blood out of his nose and pulls his head back up.

The chapter title has been translated as the “icon” of the Ainu which will become important as events progress.

Shiraishi desperately calls for someone to stop them and Boutarou shows a hidden strength as he hits Ushiyama in the head with a table as he yells at Ushiyama.  Ushiyama is pleasant enough in calling him a pirate and remarks that it has been awhile before he flings him into the wall upside down.  A rather dejected looking Boutarou remarks to Shiraishi that it didn’t work.

Trying to stop the insanity, Kadokura, of all people runs into action but gets tripped up on his fancy monk footwear.  Thankfully, his fellow ‘old man club’ member Kirawus comes to check in on him asking if he’s alright and Kadokura suspects he sprained his ankle.  Toni adds in color commentary that he’s wondering why the two of them even came to Sapporo.

The fact that Toni is questioning their presence tells me that both of these men are definitely hiding something that will come into play in the future.  I already previously wrote a meta stating that I’m suspicious of Kirawus and his possible involvement in the gold since he’s older, single and his forehead is always covered.  Kadokura’s ‘thing’ is that he’s inept and has bad luck, but Hijikata likely knows more and he’s not a loser per se.  He’s been able to pull of many things including making sure that his own men at Abashiri couldn’t interfere with the plans to rescue the fake Wilk (which he clearly knew was fake).  If he were as inept as he’s implied to be, he would have died years ago.  He’s fronting a bit in my opinion.

Hijikata then approaches and tells Ushiyama to get out of the way so he can shoot (and kill) Sugimoto finally.  Of course, Asirpa intervenes to prevent any further conflict while Ushiyama proceeds to own Sugimoto in the background. She confidently stands before Hijikata and gestures with her left hand reaching out to halt Hijikata.  She is in a complete ‘power pose’ as she stands between the rifle and the tussle behind her.  There is a close up on her determined and calm face which is then looked at by Hijikata.

Really, I feel like this is back to channeling the ‘Asirpa as Jesus’ vibe.  She is intervening in a situation in a calm and non-offensive manner.  Her determined facial expression has a level of maturity that we haven’t seen before and you know Hijikata is sizing her up.

The next page already shows Hijikata has lowered his rifle and now is covering his wound in his upper left arm with his free hand while Asirpa stands before him with closed fists.  Sugimoto and Ushiyama are still fighting and Kadokura springs into action.  First off, he highlights that if they don’t stop fighting the police will come.  And if the police come the 7th won’t be far behind which would be a bad thing.

Additionally, in order to make sure that their entire group is together, he orders Kirawus to find Ariko and Ogata to make sure that they are able to safely retreat and not attract too much attention.  Kadokura is not a real loser, just his own flavor of loser.

This statement clearly gets Sugimoto’s attention as he asks “Ogata?” while still fighting with Ushiyama.  This completely distracts Sugimoto as Ushiyama begins to put him in a tight arm lock and he starts shouting at Vasily aka hood guy (hoodie-chan in Japanese) that Ogata is there which falls upon deaf ears so to speak.

Sure enough, Ogata is back on his game and he’s clearly been well aware of the current events for some time from his ideal fire tower sniper location.  He’s modified his use of binoculars for his single left eye and some of his fake mustache remains painted on his face from his ironic disguise.  He simply threw his handy cloak over his commoners clothing which was seen in chapter 240.

Here is his commoner outfit from 240.

I am curious where he had his rifle and cloak?  As he has clearly stated that one never leaves one’s rifle more than an arm’s length away (unless naked, then in the general bath is good enough).  I would assume with his neurotic tendencies the rifle and cloak are inside of the Yuusaku themed puppet which he has ditched somewhere to quickly climb to his clutch location to watch things as they unfold.

He is able to spot Asirpa in the mix of things as she turns around to look at Sugimoto who is desperately trying to communicate to Vasily that Ogata is nearby.  After what I would say was an embarrassingly long amount of shouting by Sugimoto, he finally manages to produce one of Vasily’s drawings of Ogata to get his point across.  I’m really unsure why Sugimoto would have Vasily’s drawing of Ogata unless it is his only option since Ogata likely did not have his photo taken at the studio.  Vasily again takes a few minutes to put things together, but once it sinks in he is beyond excited.  I find Vasily’s reaction to be out of character, he is a man who is a cold blooded sniper who let his friend Ilya die so that he could pursue Ogata, yet he’s shown to be flustered, so much so that he grabs Sugimoto’s rifle.

So not only does he grab Sugimoto’s rifle but he’s going to have an issue when it comes to firing it.   I’m going to assume that Sugimoto got a type 38 from Tsurumi when he went to ‘rescue’ Asirpa which takes the 6.5x50mm Arisaka cartridge.  Unless he’s changed his own beloved sniper rifle, Vasily should still be using a Mosin-Nagant which would use a so called ‘7.62 Russian’ cartridge.  Therefore, Vasily is going to have to either hope that Sugimoto has left his rifle loaded, with the safety on, or he’s going to have to calm down and take his own Mosin-Nagant.  But the fact that he has grabbed some ‘spoons to go’ tells me that he isn’t thinking very clearly.

Now, let’s pause for a moment and ponder if Sugimoto’s rifle is loaded.  When we first met him panning for gold, our first convict pulled his own rifle on him but was unable to shoot due to the safety being on.  This would imply that Sugimoto kept it loaded.    In chapter 235, our postman from hell is able to use Sugimoto’s rifle and sure enough he fires off most of the shots and this also implies that it is loaded at all times.

Of course in direct contrast to Sugimoto’s reckless rifle use, is Ogata’s anal retentive rifle care and use (and more care!).  When the group were at the hot springs during the new moon attack, Ogata had his rifle stashed away in the corner as well as a single cartridge.  As he had to load the cartridge while pursing Toni and his gang, it is clear that he does not keep his rifle loaded at all times. It is clear that when he goes into action or needs to be on guard he clearly has his rifle loaded.  But when they are in more public places and his plan of action would be to find a nice place to snipe from he likely uses his time to get into position to load his rifle and ready himself, since it isn’t a rushed situation.  Due to his extreme skill with the rifle, I’m under the indication that Ogata feels comfortable enough to have time to load his rifle with little effort if he needed to when a situation takes a turn for the worse.

Okay so back to the action - I’ll say that ‘borrowing’ Sugimoto’s rifle isn’t a bad idea since it is likely loaded, which makes Sugimoto’s use of fighting with the rifle even more terrifying; what would happen if he knocked the safety loose?  And yet again, I can hear Ogata’s voice scolding Sugimoto for leaving his rifle unattended.  In an even more scolding and disappointing voice, Ogata is berating Vasily for not having his trusty and familiar Mosin-Nagant ready to re-start their sniper battle.

All in all, Vasily’s entire reaction is completely out of character and confuses me.  This is not the man who tried to draw Ogata out so that he could continue their sniper battle here.

And again, even though I said it in my meta before, I’ll say it again. 

Vasily, you lost.

With Vasily off to find an adequate location to continue where he left off with Ogata, the action moves directly to our wildcat sniper himself.

Asirpa has now turned away from Ogata’s direction and he puts his binoculars down.  He holds his rifle ready as he vocalizes his thoughts aloud, a very unusual situation for Ogata.  When Ogata was sniping Tanigaki with Nikaido he was relatively chatty with him, but this served a purpose, he was telling Nikaido what he was doing and why he was doing it.  Once he set Nikaido up as bait, and he settled down to his true sniping position we only get his inner dialogue.  In Barato, he didn’t order the other men in the battle until he had given away his sniping position on the fire tower.  At the hot springs he had inner dialogue as he snipes the blind bandits.  Interestingly, during his sniper battle with Vasily, we do get a few lines of spoken dialogue from Ogata.

First off, he states that one of the major merits of a sniper is to be so cautious that he’s almost a coward as he must be afraid to give away his location in order to succeed.

After a few pages, he then follows up with the following remark on Vasily’s dedication to his sniping.  Kiro killed and seriously wounded the other border guards, but Vasily could care less, he’s sniping and nothing will come between him and getting his target.

I personally realized that this spoken dialogue is incredibly out of character for Ogata during the sniper battle. We do not get speaking from him during a serious sniping situation.  I can see two reasons for this:  i.) the rest of the page is covered with Vasily’s internal monologue about sniping.  It very well may have been an editorial decision to have Ogata speak on both of these pages just so that the poor reader wouldn’t get lost between Vasily’s and Ogata’s thoughts as they describe each other during their set up.  It would also give more weight and importance to Ogata’s thoughts on things if he says them directly to us, the readers.   ii.) Ogata feels safe enough to vocalize this before things get serious.  When Vasily doesn’t respond to the dead and dying man, Ogata knows what type of sniper he is and promptly shuts up.  This may have added to the drama as we see Ogata’s breath clearly on the second image above which meant he didn’t start eating snow until he realized that’s how serious things were going to get with Vasily.

And with that Ogata is 100% back in character silently sniping away.  The rest of their sniper battle is full of Vasily’s inner dialogue and we get no additional dialogue of any sort from Ogata until he makes his mark.

Back to the current chapter, Ogata is aimed towards Asirpa.  He’s got a clean shot at her.

He mulls aloud that “If I did this. . . . [shot Asirpa] I bet it would really throw things into chaos.” followed by a rather flat sounding “ha hah”.  The final bottom panel zooms out to reveal the boots and pants of what appears to be an officer’s uniform.

So this entire page is showing so many things.  Ogata is recognizing the power that he could have over the hunt for the gold.  He’s in a unique position to silence the most powerful person in the entire quest, Asirpa.  Yet, even as he states this aloud to no one but himself, it seems to invoke Yuusaku and the guilt associated with him.  Ogata completely hesitates this entire page.  He puts the binoculars down, states the obvious and then holds his rifle at ready.

The readers are already shown his guilt from killing an innocent icon like Yuusaku approaching him from behind.  The next page appears where Ogata senses his guilt as he thinks someone is behind him.  We only see him glancing out of the corner of his left eye and he does not turn towards the putative Yuusaku ‘presence’.

This then shows Ogata finally turning to see if anyone is indeed behind him, which there obviously isn’t.  Before I get any further, I’m going to state right here that I do not believe that Yuusaku’s ghost is here haunting Ogata, if so he would have been haunting him all the time since he killed him back in the war. 

Instead, Ogata’s guilt towards killing an innocent, like Yuusaku, is manifesting itself as the appearance of his brother whenever Asirpa is involved. This has held up since the end of the sniper battle led to his fever and the mental link between Asirpa and Yuusaku.  When he had the very bad fever, Kiro translates that something has ‘taken hold’ of him, which really I’ve always read was Ogata feeling the guilt from killing Yuusaku.  The guilt itself has taken hold of him and it isn’t letting up after the sniper battle.  The sama helped Ogata overcome the thing that had ‘taken hold’ of him which makes sense.  When Ogata wakes up he links Asirpa to Yuusaku as icons.  So now, instead of his guilt taking hold of him, his guilt is now something that he is aware of which is most tightly associated with Yuusaku as the manifestation of the guilt when he sees Asirpa and her role in the hunt for the gold.

Due to his guilt distracting him, Ogata is able to notice Vasily getting into a sniping position. As he makes a very hesitant but surprised statement of ‘ . . . . what?”  This shift from 100% sniper chaos mode has given Ogata the chance to see the bigger picture and Sugimoto stupidly helps by yelling at Asirpa to get someplace safe since Vasily is in position to hunt Ogata.  Great job their Sugimoto, yell loud enough that Ogata is aware that you know he’s around and you want him sniped by Vasily.

So this is a pretty awesome and dramatic reveal that, hey guys, guess who feels guilty?  Ogata!

The rest of the chapter focuses on Sugimoto, Hijikata and Asirpa.  This page alone has so much to unpack.  Sugimoto while still held by Ushiyama ,angrily yells at Hijikata for setting him up in Abashiri, and he’s upset that he purposely separated Asirpa from him.  For good measure he adds in that because of Hijikata’s plan he got shot by Ogata.  No one will deny that Hijikata’s plan was to separate them, however, it was Sugimoto who found Wilk and drug both of them out into the open in plain sight of Ogata for sniping ease (Ogata and Kiro thank your effort Sugimoto).  He could have done something else instead of being in such an easily visible and vulnerable place. 

As Ogata shooting Sugimoto was not a part of ‘plan Hijikata’, Hijikata completely ignores most of what Sugimoto says and instead plainly states that ‘he should have’ killed him in Abashiri.  That’s right as I predicted in the previous meta, Hijikata doesn’t give a damn about you Sugimoto, you are just a really whiny fly in the ointment.  Sugimoto grits his teeth as he goads Hijikata into trying to kill him.

Again, Hijikata is able to calmly reply that he knew Sugimoto would be a problem.  Sugimoto being Sugimoto let’s him know that he’s of course going to cause problems and he then summarizes that Hijikata with Nopperabou (note how Sugimoto doesn’t say Wilk) were turning Asirpa into the icon of Ainu and with the power of the printed press, she would be the leader for the independence of the Ainu.  We already know that Sugimoto’s read on this is based on his limited knowledge of Joan of Arc from “Girl’s Monthly” and his conversation with Wilk before he was shot.  Now, Wilk confirmed that he trained Asirpa so that she could be adept at guerilla warfare. This makes sense for Wilk and for Kiro as well since they fought from a young age for the partisans.  But Hijikata isn’t a native nor mixed race individual from the minority groups, he isn’t going to come from the same cultural context.

We already had many hints of this throughout the manga.  The fact that Ogata confirmed that Wilk was working with partisans and his partners are hiding among the Ainu.  His tenacity to try to figure out Kiro’s true identity, and how even Ushiyama knew he never trusted Wilk.

And here is where Hijikata’s Japanese ‘samurai’ mindset comes through loud and clear. He first off makes it clear to Sugimoto that he has no intention of using Asirpa as a leader in a guerilla warfare.  This 100% makes sense that he would completely disagree with using women or children as soldiers to fight in his war.  Instead, he lays on the passive aggressive idea to Asirpa that she could help his cause by caring about her own people’s future or return home.

This says so much, he is committed to having Asirpa play some role in his plan, but he has made it quite clear that it isn’t her place in the conflict as both as a female and as a child. 

Asirpa then speaks directly to Hijikata and Sugimoto, declaring if this is the case than there is no point for them to fight.  Hijikata still looks calm but a bit miffed and Sugimoto is still angry.

Asirpa is able to directly ask Hijikata about the Ainu’s future.  He replies that through deforestation many of the other resources will run out e.g. things that the Ainu have relied upon are being used by the Japanese at an unsustainable rate.  He then says that the economy will be based on coal.  [Yay! An even worse resource to use and it will destroy the environment even more!] 

Aside from my very sarcastic statement, it is true that the demand for coal will only increase from the turn of the century up until well the heydays of the 1950s, so Hijikata’s plan does work.  Hijikata will use the coal industry as a way to feed into non-Japanese immigration to Hokkaido.  Interestingly, he states clearly that Japanese who are only used to Japanese will combine with the Ainu who have more intermixing with other groups as well as his ‘unknown/unstated’ other peoples will combine together in a multi-ethnic state. 

What I find most interesting is that Hijikata is showing that he has a more open view to a mixed race/strength through diversity thought process than I originally thought.  The difference is that Hijikata’s plan is still based on modernization and the immigration of different groups to create a powerful buffer state.  This is different than Wilk’s dream with Kiro and Sofia, as he wanted to create a confederation by the minority groups for the minority groups and not centered around an industrialized economy.

Wilk and Kiro wanted to preserve their way of life and their cultural practices and it showed with the fact that Asirpa was trained in an “Ainu” way to fight the colonial powers. 

Hijikata, instead, wants to mix the different groups together to create something new, but it implies that she would not be preserving her way of life nor her full cultural practices as the more cultural mixing that would occur the less of the old ways would be kept. 

In that way Wilk’s plan was quite unique, he recognized that he was a mixed race individual as well as Asirpa but he did not put that much of an emphasis of her adopting any sort of Polish cultural aspects.  Sure, he highlights that because she is not 100% Ainu it makes her a new woman, but she didn’t not culturally synthesize Polish-Ainu practices.  Even Wilk’s name is an indication of that, he was named per Karafuto Ainu and Hokkaido Ainu practices but he got a Polish name.  In a way, he used his European background as a partisan but he only passed on Ainu cultural practices to Asirpa.

Asirpa seems engaged and thoughtful as Hijikata speaks while Sugimoto is just, well angry.  Ogata’s got Sugimoto all constipated. . . .

Before Asirpa replies, we get the inner thoughts of Bouratou and Shiraishi begins the lay the groundwork for rejoining team Hijikata.  It is clear from Bouratou’s down turned mouth and thought ending with a question mark that he’s not keen on this whole Republic of Ezo concept.  I would guess that he’s thinking the same thing that Ogata said when he approached Hijikata about it.  It is a poor idea and many men will die for no reason.  Shiraishi states the obvious that they have been presented with the lesser of two evils.

Asirpa then gets to have a nice long monologue.  She makes it clear that she does not want the gold to go the 7th and Tsurumi.  She also states that Sugimoto’s skins were ‘stolen’ from him by Tsurumi.  I’m not sure if this is a deliberate lie by her to Hijikata to imply that he didn’t willingly work with Tsurumi (which he totally did) or if it is a lie to herself (Sugimoto didn’t sell me out for Umeko).  Even though we the readers don’t know what Ogata told Hijikata when he came back, he made it quite clear he had a run in with Tsurumi’s men and Sugimoto was with them.  She instead, presents that since they are missing those skins and now that they have skins that Hijikata lacks, it is the only option but to team up again.

To really make it clear that the Karafuto trip matured Asirpa, we get some surprise from Ariko.  He looks nervous as he asks Nagakura if that is her.  Nagakura who is frequently depicted as a generally wise man, comments that she has changed since he last encountered her.  Furthermore, he states that she is standing on even footing with all of these powerful men.  Clearly, we are getting nice vibes that Asirpa has some Sofia characteristics growing.  Plus, they both have a love of poop.  I can’t wait for the Sofia-Asirpa reunion.  I’m certain a poop joke will be involved.

What I find concerning is that after the profile shot of Asirpa there is a zoom in on a still nervous looking Ariko with his face a bit more shaded and serious looking.  Clearly, he’s got orders from Tsurumi (as a spy) and Kikuta (as a spy and his trusted friend) and who knows what else (Ainu intel) that makes very unsettled with this entire situation.

Ushiyama only after all of this realizes that he let Ueji escape.  Dammit man, you were supposed to kill him remember?

And then a finally shot shows Vasily searching in vain for an Ogata who is long gone.

The chapter then ends with Asirpa sitting down alone, with Hijikata as she drives her part of the deal.  She will share the skins that they have, Boutarou’s and Heita’s in exchange for a chance to look at Hijikata’s skins.  Now, smartly, Hijikata only allows her to look at them alone, no one else.  I’m not sure if Hijikata knows that Asirpa is illiterate or not but both of them are controlling the flow and exchange of information between them.

This final panel shows Asirpa looking at Boutarou’s with Sugimoto, so he’s likely helping her out with the kanji on his tattoo.  She also is looking down at Heita’s so she thinks she’s figured out a commonality between the skins.

And we know that it should be linked to the code that she remembered, Horkew Oskoni.  Unfortunately, the chapter ends with a dramatic look of shock and concern from Asirpa after looking at Hijikata’s skins.

She can’t put things together as she thinks that I can’t not be Wilk’s Hokkaido Ainu name!  And with that our chapter ends!  Dum dum!

Now, I hope that Asirpa remembers that Hijikata has 5 fake skins that Edogai made for Tsurumi.  I hope she remembers that they would be in the mix and therefore, they would not correspond to the characteristics that she thought could be on all of the skins that are key for finding the gold.

Well that was a lot to unpack in this chapter!  I enjoyed it for the most part, it really hit a lot of unknowns and mysterious motivations that we are still missing for some characters!

[dhwty-writes]

Chapter 5 - A Broken Princess

This one is angsty like... all over. That was not the plan. I regret nothing. Feel free to shout at me in the notes and in my askbox:)

Also, thanks to @persony-pepper for betaing this chapter!

Summary: Ciri does neither trust nor like Jaskier, so Geralt has to try and talk with his old friend. 

Read on AO3

Part 1 | Part 5 | Part 7

He would lie if he said he wasn't relieved that Jaskier had agreed to him training Ciri. The week before had been nothing short of torture, and Geralt was slowly going mad without any task to set his mind upon. And it wasn't even like the winters in Kaer Morhen where there was always something to fix, always someone to train with, always some creature to hunt. The ancient ruin was a wild place with more than enough opportunities to keep a witcher occupied.

Lettenhove Hall was none of that. It was a well-kept castle with enough servants to see to every minor inconvenience. There were no monsters either and while the guards were friendly enough, they didn't seem to look forward to training with him.

He had found out that there were twenty of them in total, quite a lot for a castle as small as Lettenhove. Besides the occasional piercing glare, though, their interactions were non-existent. He could leave the castle, he had discovered, without so much as a blink from the garrison. 'At least I am no prisoner,' he remembered thinking relieved; but there wasn't really anywhere to go. He had ventured out a few times to explore Jaskier's lands but that had become boring quickly enough. Only once he had been reminded not to stray too far, as the viscount expected him for dinner in just an hour. Generally speaking, Geralt was fine with that. Only bored.

He was in the stables a lot, enjoying the quiet company of the horses and Wiktor. Sometimes the old equerry even asked him to take one of the noble horses for a ride, if the Pankratz siblings neglected them for too long.

Józefa still came by almost every day, trying to seduce him, but he could tell that she wasn't really trying anymore. He almost hoped she would. Instead their conversations had turned to playful banter from her part that he answered with silence, grunts and the occasional barbed remark. It might have been fun if it didn't emphasise the fetterless behaviour he and Jaskier had shared. Being treated quite similarly by his sister, who resembled the bard in everything but looks, made their estranged relationship all the more painful.

So, Geralt was glad that he could train Ciri now. He finally had something to do again, although that had not been his plan. He had hoped that Vesemir could instruct her, and that his brothers would help. That would have been nice. He also already feared the tongue-lashing that awaited him once Vesemir saw all the bad habits Ciri learned from him. It didn’t matter how many years passed since he had left Vesemir’s care and Kaer for good, his old teacher always found things to critique him for.

Now that he had a student for himself, he began to understand it. He had permission to chase her across the courtyard and snap at her for her sloppy poses and weak slashes for the entire morning, from breakfast until lunch — Jaskier had told him in no uncertain terms that he would have no repetition of that first day, though he didn't mention why. Geralt had suspicions, mainly having to do with the fact that Jaskier was very irritated when Geralt berated Ciri harshly. And that he was much more amenable when they didn't cross blades quite as often, reducing the noise to a minimum.

Geralt was fairly happy with standing at the sidelines, although he caught himself embarrassingly often mimicking Vesemir's poses. And his comments. And even his damned tone, Melitele's tits.

To avoid that, he had taken to tracing the buttercup carved into the pommel of his sword, wondering for how long Jaskier had gone by that ridiculous name. He didn’t know when he had started thinking of it as his sword. He also wasn't sure which of the two new habits was worse.

It was his third day of training Ciri. Shortly after lunch, from which Jaskier remained absent, Geralt was just changing into what had deemed his stable clothes when he heard some kind of noise next door.

Geralt sighed and quickly pulled the shirt over his head before knocking on Ciri's door.

"Fuck off," he heard her swear and he winced. The cuss words had been a bad idea; she was taking too much after him already.

"Ci- Fiona, it's me. You better be dressed, ‘cause I'm coming in." He turned the doorknob and cursed quietly when he found it locked. "Open up!" he demanded.

"I don't want to," she answered.

"You're supposed to go riding with Lord Julian."

"I don't want to!"

"He's even gifted you a new riding cloak-"

"I don't want it!" Ciri shouted. "I don't want any of it! Leave me alone."

Geralt sighed heavily and leaned his forehead against the door. 'What the fuck was I thinking?' he asked himself not for the first — and surely not the last time. He had just seen what disaster the law of surprise brought, why the fuck had he claimed it? From the Lioness of Cintra's son-in-law no less. 'If there ever was going to be a bratty child,' he thought glumly, 'it was destined to be this one.'

He took a deep breath and told himself: 'Remember Kaer Morhen. At least it's not snot-nosed Lambert.' That made him feel a bit better.

After a few moments he tried again: "Do you want to... talk about it?" Gods, what was this child doing to him? 'I really love you, Ciri. You better fucking appreciate it.'

There was a quiet sniffle. "You don't do ‘talking’."

"Hmmm," he made. "Not if I can avoid it. Gotta take care of my pup, though. Cub." There was a beat of silence. "I can go get somebody else-" Before he could finish that sentence, the door opened and the air was punched out of his lungs as Ciri dove in for a hug. "There," he said, awkwardly patting her back, "that's better." He looked around for passing servants and when he heard footsteps, he simply picked her up and walked over to her bed after closing the door behind him.

Geralt gently cradled his child surprise in his arms and held her while she cried. She hadn't cried for quite some time now, not since their arrival in Lettenhove, but now the scent of salt-sadness and onion-grief was overwhelming.

He had never felt so helpless as when the concoction had first startled him awake, not three days after finding her. Ciri had just laid on her side, quietly crying into her bedroll and Geralt had had no idea what to do. His first instinct had been to go back to sleep and leave her her privacy but then — and he firmly believed it to be an accident — she had weakly croaked: "Help- Grandmother- Geralt-!" He had never been on his feet faster, scrambling to her side, afraid to get too close, afraid to startle her, afraid to hold her. "What can I do?" he had pleaded. "Tell me, what can I do?" And then, to his never-ending surprise, she had crawled into his arms — 'No, that's wrong, children hate witchers.' — and hugged him close, drenching his shirt with her tears.

Once, after, he had asked her if she was still scared of their pursuers. There had been only one answer: "I'm not scared anymore. You're scarier than all my nightmares." That had been the day Geralt had discovered that he was a coward. He never dared ask why she didn't reek of fear, then.

He had never gotten better at comforting the little cub since that first night. Somehow, she still relaxed faster every time. 'That's wrong,' his traitorous head snarled, 'she shouldn't. No child should feel safe with a witcher close.' Only, this one did. She had never smelt of fear, not after she first set eyes on him. 'Like Jaskier.' And like Jaskier she had wormed her way into his heart way too fast.

After a while the crying stopped. "Are you alright, little cub?" he whispered.

Ciri looked up at him, tears drying on her cheek. "Geralt... do we have to stay here?"

Something in his chest tightened. 'Oh no,' he thought. "We're safe here," he said slowly. "Lord Julian will protect us. Until the snow thaws."

"Hmm," she made. Another bad habit she got from him and he felt his knees grow weak. 'What am I supposed to do when she wants to leave? I can't- We can't- We won't make it.'

"You can trust him," he tried again. "He-" He wanted to say: 'He would give his life for ours.' But then he realised that he didn't know if that was true anymore. "He is a man of his word," he said instead.

"I think he doesn't like me," she confessed quietly.

"Now that's just untrue," Geralt frowned. "Lord Julian adores you. And he's done a lot of nice things for you."

She shook her head adamantly. "I think he doesn't like me because I came here with you. He doesn't like you."

'Oh.' His heart clenched painfully. She was smarter than it was any good for her. He should have known that he couldn't keep it from her. "That's true," he admitted. "At the moment. He'll come around. Eventually."

"Why?" she asked earnestly. "I thought you were friends."

"I-" he faltered. How could he even begin to describe what they were? What they had been? 'What we are now.' He hung his head in shame. "We were. I think. And I've done a bad thing. That I know."

"And he's angry?" Ciri's eyes were blown wide.

"Very," Geralt confessed quietly, "and rightfully so."

"What did you do?" There was no reproach in her voice, no accusation. Only... compassion. Somehow that made him feel even worse.

"It's complicated."

"Did you cheat at knucklebones?"

That almost made him laugh. "No. Worse."

"Did you cheat at Gwent?"

"No, Ciri-"

She gasped. "Did you cheat on him?"

"I'm not- we're not-" He sighed. "That's not it either."

"What could be worse than that?"

"I... I wasn't very nice to him. For a long time. I said mean things. And I yelled at him."

Ciri frowned. "I don't understand. My grandparents did that all the time!"

"Yeah, me too, but- it was different with... with us. I hurt him. I don't think I can explain."

"Can't you try?" she pleaded.

"I am trying, Ciri. I'm sorry." Geralt sighed quietly. "I'll talk to him. Alright?"

"Good." She smiled at him, all child-like and innocent and naive. 'She is all of that,' he reminded himself. "I can hold you when you cry, too, you know,” she said solemnly. “You can't sit in my lap but I can hug you. My arms can fit around your chest, look!” She embraced him to prove it. “If you want to, that is."

There was a thick lump in his throat he didn't know what to do with. "I- thanks. That's very nice." He swallowed, hoping it would make the lump go away. It didn't. "Why uh- why don't you go find Marta to tell her you won't go riding with Lord Julian?"

She ducked her head. "Can you do that? Please? I'd rather be alone for a while." He nodded. That was better. That, at least, he could understand.

"Yeah, sure." Somehow the lump got even worse. "I'll- I'll be in the stables if you need me. I'll see you… later." Reluctantly he got up and placed her on the bed. She took a book from her nightstand — where had she gotten that from? — and smiled at him encouragingly before he closed the door.

It was surprisingly hard to leave her behind to hunt down Marta. Thrice he turned around to go back to her, to make sure that she really was okay and thrice he reminded himself that she would tell him if there was something he could do.

It was in the well house that he stumbled upon Marta, the poor woman in evident distress. "Witcher!" she said and he noted that the smell of fear had gotten less than last time. "I am looking for his Lordship's cousin, have you seen her?"

"She won't be able to go ride with him," he told her. "She is- indisposed."

"Oh." She faltered. "Is she quite alright?"

"I believe so. She just isn't in the mood for company."

"Oh," the serving girl said again. "Then, uh-" The scent of fear flared up again. "I guess I'll better tell his lordship."

"Hm," Geralt made. He could do that just as well. Get the whole conversation over with. Then again, he should probably go and- sort out all about the sorry state he was in. A few hours with the horses should do the trick. He would go talk to Jaskier later.

He shouldered past Marta and quickly slipped into the stables, relieved that Jaskier was nowhere to be seen. He needed some time to himself, too. 

The steady work of brushing down the horses granted him exactly that. It was easy for him to slip into an almost meditative state of mind, ignoring the busy stable hands walking about, going after their own tasks.

That was also why he didn't respond to the calls until a hand dug rather harshly into his shoulder. "Witcher," Janina Pankratz hissed, "I am talking to you."

He turned towards her slowly, immediately overwhelmed with the sour stench of fear and hatred like the smell of infected wounds. "My lady? I was caught up in my thoughts."

She snorted. "I could see that plainly."

He looked at her, waiting for her to continue. When she didn't, he asked: "Why are you here, my lady?" He hadn't seen her in the stables yet, and if he was honest, he hadn't thought she would go inside. No matter how well they mucked out the boxes, the place always seemed a bit too dirty for a lady as she was.

"I wanted to talk to you."

'Gods above, anything but that.' He swallowed the sour grimace down. "About what?"

"My lady."

"Excuse me?"

She pursed her lips. "My brother might let your lack of manners slide, but I won't. You will address me correctly."

He ground his teeth. "Sure. About what, my lady?"

"Gods, can't you even form whole sentences?" she sighed.

"I could," he answered. "But I won't. My lady."

Janina Pankratz sneered and for a moment he thought she was about to raise her hand at him. But then, she took a deep breath and said with a surprisingly calm voice: "Our cousin you delivered to our gates. You get along well with her."

"Yes, I do. My lady."

"How?"

His eyebrows twitched upwards. 'You don't have time for a tale nearly as long, my lady,' he thought. 'Nor do you care enough for it.' But even he knew he couldn't say that. So instead he answered: "I am kind to her, my lady. I do not laugh, nor scowl, nor raise my voice at her. I tell her jokes and stories and smile when she is funny. I listen to her." 'I hold her when she cries.' He didn't dare to say that. "That is all, I think. My lady."

She wrinkled her nose and for a moment it was as if he was looking at Jaskier's mirror image. 'If she smiled,' he caught himself thinking, 'they could be mistaken for twins.' But then again, Jaskier didn't smile either, at the moment. "That is quite a lot," she replied.

'That is nothing,' he thought. "I reckoned you wanted a true answer, my lady."

"Now, I do not have nearly enough time for that," she answered. "I need you to get her to like me. Starting with that she won't swear at me any longer."

He couldn't keep from snorting. "And why would I do that? My lady."

"Because else, I will ensure that your miserable life will be even more miserable from now on."

"His Lordship won't like that."

"His Lordship won't know that."

'Are you sure about that?' he thought and raised an eyebrow. "What have I even done to you? You have despised me from the moment I stepped over the threshold of Ja- Lord Julian's castle."

He felt a tiny bit of satisfaction when he saw her face twist into an offended grimace at the mention of Jaskier's claim over the fortress. "Maybe so," she responded, "the crimes your kind has committed against me and mine are more heinous than any human could imagine." She gave him an once over. "Not too heinous for you, tough, I reckon."

'Ah. That old song again.' He ducked his head obediently. "If you say so, my lady."

"Oh, so you do know respect. You really should teach that girl you have brought with you some," she said coldly, "Before Lord Pankratz will beat it into her."

Geralt paled. "He wouldn't-"

"He would. He knows the effectiveness of that particular treatment quite well himself, after all." She turned on her heel and left the stables the same moment he felt the brush crack and splinter in his hand.

Geralt had quite enough, he decided, as he threw the useless brush away and rushed out of the stables and up to his rooms to get his sword. He needed to put its edge to... something.

Followed only by the curious looks of the guardsmen, Geralt strode out of the main gates, his scabbard slung loosely over his shoulder. He left the road quickly enough, just fleeing from that wretched castle with that wretched inhabitants and that wretched atmosphere.

Just out of earshot, he pulled the steel sword free and swung it against an innocent tree with such a force that the whole trunk quivered. He didn't even know what exactly had managed to work him into such a rage, but at that moment he didn't particularly care. He just was glad that he had found an opponent who would neither complain nor break while he hacked away at it.

He didn't know how long he had been doing that before he was interrupted: "Ho, witcher!" There was the sound of a horse coming to a halt. "Shouldn't you rather use an axe for that?"

Geralt grunted and twirled around, his steel sword pointed at the poor soul that had picked that unfortunate moment to come his way. The guard on the other end seemed unimpressed and simply pressed the blade away. "What is it? Do you regret talking me into letting you in already?"

He blinked stupidly, before lowering the weapon. Of course, he knew the man. It was the guard who had opened the gates to them. Geralt grunted: "Immensely."

"And here I thought you— what was it you said? — 'a friend of his lordship's son'? Has your 'friend' scorned you?"

"We're not- on good terms at the moment."

The guard laughed. "Yeah, we are aware. You're quite the talk of the castle. But you've already been that before arriving." He shrugged. "Never seen Master Julian quite like this before."

"Me neither."

"Apologies. I have forgotten that you've known him longer than I do. So." He clapped his hands. "What has the little brat done now?"

Geralt stared in surprise, taking in the man standing before him. He wouldn't have judged him much older than Jaskier himself but then again, he had never been good at judging the age of humans. "Wasn't him," he snapped.

"Ah." A wicked grin spread on his face. "Lady Janina."

Geralt hummed his assent, wondering how he'd known.

"Don't worry," the guard said gleefully, "we've all been there before. She's not half as bad once you get to know her."

He snorted. 'I doubt that anyone really 'knows' her.'

"There's nothing you can do about it for now. Just take it and suck it up."

Geralt nodded. He knew how to do that.

"I'm Marin by the way." He stuck his hand out and Geralt wracked his brain, trying to remember where he had heard that name before.

"Geralt." He took the offered hand.

"Let me know if you ever want to swing your sword at something livelier than a trunk. I'd love to have fought a witcher once in my life."

The snort was out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "I'd wipe the floor with you."

"Bold words for a man who could barely stand upright a week ago," he teased. "Come back to the castle with me and we'll see about that?"

Geralt looked back at the tree he had massacred. Fighting a human guard was no replacement for his brothers in Kaer Morhen but at least he would put up a fight. He shrugged and sheathed his sword, turning to walk back to the castle with him. To his surprise, Marin fell in step beside him instead of mounting his horse again.

"How did you even find me?" Geralt asked.

"Poacher in the area," he answered. "Lord Pankratz asked me to track him down."

He grunted.

"Don't worry, Geralt. There won't be any consequences, most likely. Well, besides a stern talking to and the lad being sent home with a bag full of food for his family." He shrugged. "His Lordship's got a soft heart. Softer than most."

"Too soft," Geralt growled before he could stop himself.

The guardsman shrugged. "Probably. You're good with horses, yeah?" he asked.

Geralt hummed. "Not half bad, I guess."

"You must be. Wiktor won't let anyone ride their majesties. Not even his second in command. I guess I'll have to ask his Lordship for a new one in spring. This beauty won't make it much longer."

"Old?" he asked, trying to mask his surprise. With the fear Marta seemed to possess of her lord, he hadn't expected Jaskier's guards to be nearly as comfortable asking for something as expensive as a horse. On the other hand, most of the people in Lettenhove seemed to regard Jaskier with polite respect — not the blind fear that reigned almost everywhere else.

"And weary," Marin added. "Got him almost twenty years ago, when I joined Lord Alfred's guard, may he rest in peace."

"You've always been here?"

"Pretty much," he shrugged. "I was born up in the Hall, son of a kitchen wench and Old Lord Julian, his Lordship’s grandfather that is, if the rumours are true. And the rumours are always true when it comes to the bedwarmers of the Lord." He laughed. "Well, mostly."

Geralt shot him a look. He wasn't actually interested, he told himself, just polite.

Thankfully, Marin didn’t need much encouragement: "We expected half the personnel to end up in Lord Julian's bed within a moon's turn of his arrival - he’s got quite a reputation, after all. But he leaves the girls and boys alone. Good lad.” There was a slight pause before he continued: “And, well..." He grinned sheepishly. "I think we all lost a fair share of money with your arrival. Borys, the idiot, said you'd fuck him right then and there-"

Geralt felt his ears grow hot and quickly snapped: "We're not like that!" He was definitely not comfortable discussing- any of this, really, with anyone. The thought that there were not-so-secret discussions about them-

"Really?" The look of surprise on Marin’s face was genuine. "Could've fooled me. Well, I've got my bet still running, I said-"

"Marin..." he growled menacingly.

"Right," the guard answered and the tiniest smell of fear wavered off him. "Taking the hint..." They stepped through the gates and he handed the reins of his horse to a stable boy.

"Welcome back, captain," one of the other guards greeted him. 'Ah,' Geralt thought. 'Fuck.' "Any luck with the poacher?"

"Not yet, Borys" Marin answered and turned to Geralt. "So, about that spar..."

He shook his head. "Gotta talk to Lord Julian before," he answered. "Any idea where to find him?"

The captain of the guard made a gesture that Geralt roughly interpreted as 'fuck if I know' and shrugged. "His study?"

His study was usually a good place to start looking for Jaskier. He was there, mostly — no matter what time of day it was. It was quite worrying, if he was honest, how late the viscount still worked at times. And work he had to, for Geralt was now certain that no one in Lettenhove Hall shared his bed.

That was one of the many things that had changed since Geralt's return. Jaskier's unmistakable smell — as well as his apparent new-found aversion to frequently changing bedfellows. As long as Geralt had known him, the bard had smelt of honey-sweet happiness and cinnamon arousal and not much else. He hadn't caught a single whiff of that yet at his home.

When he stepped out onto the courtyard again, it was Borys who called to him: "Witcher! His Lordship's on the rampart if you're looking for him. Doesn't want to be disturbed, though."

Geralt ignored that council — he had made Ciri a promise after all and climbed the walls, taking two steps at a time. No one tried to stop him.

It took him a while to walk around the battlements, but he found Jaskier eventually on the west side facing the setting sun. He sat between two merlons and the sight of him dangling one leg over the side made Geralt's heart skip a beat and his feet tingle, his body burning with the pressing need to pull him away from the edge. But then the air carried over Jaskier's scent and for a moment the overwhelming scent of honey was like a punch in the gut.

Geralt almost turned around to leave Jaskier to his moment of bliss — he knew that there were not nearly enough of those in the viscount's life at the moment. The thought alone hurt much worse than any wound he had ever been dealt. Jaskier, the ever-laughing bard, who knew more ways to make Geralt smile than anyone else combined, who had spent hours pestering him for just a little bit of relaxation (not happiness, that would be too much to ask), who never failed to make anyone laugh until their sides hurt, whose smile was like sunshine on a rainy day — his bard Jaskier, had forgotten how to be happy. Who was he to destroy that precious moment of contentment?

'I promised it,' he reminded himself again and moved forward. He made sure to make the heels of his new boots clack on the floor (they had just appeared in his room one morning, the perfect size and fit as he preferred it, without explanation, and Jaskier had been absent for the entire day) to announce his presence.

"My lord," he greeted him, "is there room for one more?"

The effect of his words — his presence — was instant. Jaskier didn't even have to look at him, in the blink of an eye all the honey was washed away, instead replaced by salt and bitterness. 'The taste of tears and willow bark.' Jaskier opened his eyes, and for a moment, he thought there were tears on his cheeks. 'Please, no, Melitele have mercy. I can't go through this again today.' But then, his not-friend made an inviting gesture and the glistening in his eyes grew lesser. 

Geralt leaned against the merlon facing him, observing Jaskier’s placid expression. "I see you are enjoying the quiet, my lord," he said after a while. "I never thought I'd see the day."

"I'm not quite sure if I would call it enjoying, witcher." He closed his eyes again and shivered visibly when a gust of wind blew over the wall. 'He hasn't even brought a cloak,' Geralt noticed, vowing to bring a blanket the next time. "But I have to admit it has a certain crude charm. Just like the woods. I have grown fond of the wild it seems."

"And yet you have exchanged it for a cozy castle."

"I was under the impression the wild did not return my affection." The bitter taste of willow bark-pain grew stronger.

Geralt grunted to hide the anguish that flashed through his body. 'I never wanted to,' he thought, foolishly wishing for Jaskier to be able to read his thoughts again.

"Talk to me, witcher," Jaskier commanded. "I fear the quiet has lost its appeal."

"About what?"

Jaskier waved his hand dismissively. "Think of something. A story, perhaps. What did you do today?"

"Trained your cousin," he answered dutifully, "Been to the stables. Been threatened by your sister. Ciri as well. Your new horse is a bit slow, my lord."

“Oh, she will regret that…” he murmured. Then, after a while he said: "You have ridden Pegasus?" Jaskier cracked one eye open. "Wiktor won't let me go near him!" The indignation in his voice made Geralt sigh a breath of relief. He was always glad to see the remnants of the person he had known for so long under the stoic facade of the viscount.

"Well, you can ruin a new horse if you don't know what you're doing."

He opened his other eye, too. "Are you saying I am a bad rider?"

'I know you aren't.' Jaskier was a frequent face in the stables, either to sneak the horses too many treats while the stable boys stood uncomfortably to the side, unsure if they could reprimand their lord for missteps that would earn them a good beating from Wiktor, or to borrow one of the horses. He knew that Jaskier didn't have any real preferences besides always shunning his father's steed, Titan. He also knew that he liked to ride fast. And Geralt knew that his heart skipped a beat whenever he saw Jaskier leap into the saddle and speed out of the gates. He was, however, also fairly certain that Jaskier had no idea what to do with Pegasus while he was not broken to the bridle yet. "I am saying that you need to know how to train a yearling to ride a yearling."

"And you know how to do that?"

"Do you think horses just come trained not to fear most monsters and to follow a whistle already?"

Jaskier nodded. "Colour me impressed, witcher. Who would have thought a liar as atrocious as yourself could keep such a secret from the man who followed his every step for over half of his life?"

Geralt grunted, fully aware of the not-so-hidden reproach in his words.

"Use your words, witcher." 

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I'm not sure if that's an insult or a compliment."

Jaskier sighed heavily and the scent of sadness grew so thick Geralt thought he must choke. "Neither am I..."

Once Geralt had collected himself, he asked casually: "How's your cousin, my lord?"

Jaskier very nearly pouted. "She doesn't like me."

He snorted. "Funny. She's saying the same about you."

"What am I doing wrong?" He frowned. "She's a very frightened child, yet you and Józefa get to talk to her."

Geralt smiled softly. "Do you want my honest advice?"

"In this case, I fear I am in desperate need of it."

"Just be yourself. She likes... nice things. I thought you might bond over that."

"I tried that. But whatever I do, she is not overly impressed."

"Hm," he made.

Jaskier didn't answer anything for a while. But what he said then, made Geralt very nearly lose his footing and make him tumble over the battlements: "She doesn't like me because she thinks I don't like you." The viscount turned his face towards him. "Isn't that right?"

"Hmm," Geralt made. 'That is pretty spot on,' he thought. "When did you become so good at reading people?"

"Long before I met you." Jaskier looked over his lands again. "You were the only person I was ever wrong about."

"How so, my lord?"

"From the moment I saw you, I thought you to be incapable of hurting anyone wilfully." A sad smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Never have I regretted a misconception more in my entire life."

Geralt swallowed around the thick lump forming in his throat, unsure what to say or if Jaskier was even waiting for a response.

Evidently, he was, for he sighed a short moment after and got to his feet. "Good night, witcher," he whispered before vanishing down the stairs.

"Good night, my lord," he echoed into the lonely evening. What on earth was he supposed to do with that?

[imaginepirates]

Prisoner pt. 2

A sequel to Prisoner! Now, it's the reader's turn to take care of poor Norrington. Will they stay together, or will they continue on separately in the worlds they've always known?

@bonjour-frens @tesserphantom @ilikebritsandbands @viper-official @wordsinwinters

~3350 words

~~~~~~~

           The shipwreck was atrocious. Your place in the search-and-rescue dinghy didn't give you a flattering sight. Bloated bodies floated face down in the water, and sometimes, you came upon severed limbs. Blue fingers and purple lips adorned the poor boys who still floated above the surface. The rest had drowned, or were laying on bits of floating wood. 

           The ship itself was torn to bits. The rocks had done their damage; the hull had completely split open. The masts had been drawn under by their waterlogged sails. Wreckage was only being kept up by the rocks, and barrels floated aimlessly through the water. The rest had sunk beneath the waves. 

           Your goal was, admittedly, more of a find-and-capture one than a search-and-rescue one. The sunken ship in question was a naval ship that had crashed during a nasty storm. You were surprised that there were any survivors at all, but a few men had been taken back to your ship. Those who agreed to work for you were allowed to, and those who weren't were returned to the sea. 

           You paddled past endless debris. You couldn't help but think of the terror the sailors had experienced in their final moments. Absently, you let one hand drift in the water. 

           You turned to look ahead, and noticed a body floating on a wooden plank at the same time as some of your companions. Your group pulled alongside it, studying the man. He was horribly sunburnt, all chapped lips and red skin. He lay so limply you might've mistaken him for dead, but a raspy wheeze was coming from his mouth. 

           The worst thing about it was that he was familiar. 

           "Leave him," said one of your shipmates. "He'll die anyway."

           There was a general agreement from everyone, but you couldn't tear your eyes from him. "We can't," you whispered. 

           "What do you mean ‘we can't’? There's nothing that can be done for him, let's move on."

           "I mean I can't leave him here, because he's the one that saved me."

           A silence fell over your group. Everyone stared at the man on the board. 

           "You're sure?" Your companion asked. 

           "Yes."

           "Let's haul him in, then." 

           You worked quietly, helping to lift his body from the board and into your dinghy. You knew the chances of his survival were low. He'd gone too long in the sun without any water. At least the other men you'd rescued had moved. Still, you felt compelled to give him a proper burial at sea, if it came to that. 

           Norrington. The name rolled around in your head like a sailboat on rough seas. It had only been a few months since your escape, but it felt like a lifetime. Now, seeing your savior again, it was all brought back to you. 

           You'd avoided thinking about it. The memories were painful and emotional, and you hated to think of how close you'd come to dying. Sometimes, you imagined what it was like for Norrington to say he'd taken you to bed. How much shame had he felt? You could see him standing red-faced before his superiors, telling them about some fictional liaison. You hoped it hadn't gotten him into any trouble. 

           You were brought back to the present as your fellows helped pull Norrington's body onto your ship. He was taken to the ship's surgeon, and you followed. A crewmember laid their hand lightly on your shoulder. 

           "I'll explain to the captain if you want to stay here."

           You thanked them softly and sat beside the cot on which they'd put his body. Absently, you picked up one of his hands and weighed it in your own. It was calloused and rough, but it fit nicely in yours.

           The surgeon had you help care for Norrington. Firstly, and most embarrassingly, you had to strip him of his wet clothes. He'd already developed a fever, but letting it get worse would surely kill him. You eased him out of his coat and shirt, but turned away when the surgeon undid his trousers. After a blanket was placed over him, you rotated between putting cold compresses on his forehead and playing with his fingers. By nightfall, you were dreary, and reluctantly returned to your bed. 

           Nothing was said when you went back the next day. Some of the other naval men were allowed to visit Norrington too, if only to see him before he died. You sat hour after hour by his side, desperately hoping for some sign of recovery. 

           You were preparing to leave for bed again when he stirred. It was only a slight movement, but enough to let you know he was awake. His hand and face twitched, and his breathing became irregular. His eyes didn't open, but his brows were pulled down in pain. You laid a gentle hand on his cheek, just to let him know you were there. 

           "Water," he rasped. The word barely left his mouth. 

           You brought him a small cup of water, resting it against his lips and tilting it slowly over his mouth. Most of it ran down his lips, and the rest he spluttered and coughed back out of his mouth. You lifted him to put a few pillows under his head and tried again, this time with more success. You kept at it until he seemed a bit more within his wits. 

           You tried fetching the surgeon, but he said there was still little that could be done. With that in mind, you sat next to Norrington to keep him company, letting your hand fall into his. He seemed to notice, because he squeezed your hand. 

           Placing a wet cloth on his face, you began cleaning the area around his eyes. It was crusted over, his eyes having been closed for so long. You were careful to be slow and tender. Even there, the skin was red and puffy. 

           He opened his eyes a few minutes later. At first, they focused on nothing, but they came to rest on your face. Confusion flashed across his features. "Who?" He whispered. 

           "Don't worry about that now. Just rest." You could've cried from relief. Norrington seemed somewhat coherent, which was a good sign that he might survive the coming days. You'd often thought of being able to thank him properly for saving you. If he made it, you could. 

           You rubbed your thumb over his knuckles until he fell back asleep, and you beside him. 

           It was still dark when you woke. Norrington was restless beside you. He squirmed in his cot, moving as much as his body would allow. You were laying on the floor, resting your head on your arm, but you got up when he started to move. 

           He drifted in and out of consciousness, sometimes staring at you. All you could do was to keep a wet cloth on his head and some water at hand in case he needed it. 

           The next days were much the same. You took care of him, but it consisted mostly of sitting near him and keeping to yourself. About five days in, his fever broke. You were getting something to eat, and when you returned, he was staring at the ceiling. 

           The surgeon was there, trying to explain the situation. Norrington didn't meet the surgeon's eyes, and you could only imagine the grief he was going through. He'd lost most of his men, and he was now being cared for by the very people he hated. 

           You walked farther into the room, and he turned his head. Recognition spread across his face. He tried to push himself into a sitting position, but only succeeded in making himself collapse coughing. 

           You took a seat next to him.  "Captain," you said, unsure of how to greet him. 

           "Y/N," he whispered. His voice was strained with sickness, but he was undeniably better.

           "I was afraid you wouldn't recover. You looked awful when we first brought you in."

           He smiled weakly. "I'm glad to see you with your crew."

           "I'm glad to be here." You took one of his hands. "Thank you." You hadn't had the chance to properly thank him for what he'd done. "I can't imagine what it might've done to your reputation."

           "Not much, really. It was well worth the risk."

           You felt your eyes welling up with tears. The surgeon left you to be alone with him, and you held his hand tightly in your own. "Are you alright?" You asked softly. "I know the news had to come as a blow."

           He turned his head away. "I was fond of my crew. To know most of them are gone…" he trailed off. 

           You laid a gentle hand on his cheek, and he leaned into the touch. "I'm sorry."

           "So am I."

           You sat in silence, and you took the opportunity to open a jar of balm that you had to put on his sunburns every day. Carefully, you applied the cream to his skin. There were burns on his face, hands, and chest. They were getting better; the swelling had gone down, and the redness was slowly fading. The blistering was nearly all gone. 

           Lost in thought, you hadn't caught his staring at you. His eyes rested on your face, which might have made you blush had you not felt so badly for him. The situation was a bit sobering. 

           You finished and wiped your hands on your pants. 

           "Have you been taking care of me this whole time?" He asked. 

           "Yes."

           He grabbed your hand again, sighing. "Does your crew know?"

           You didn't have to ask about what. "Most of them know the full story, yes."

           Norrington looked uncomfortable. 

           "They don't think poorly of you," you assured him. "They understand why I've been caring for you."

           He nodded, but his eyes were still drawn down in worry. "I'm still an officer to them. God knows how many of their friends and family I've seen hanged." He buried his head in his hands. "I've been responsible for too much death," he mumbled.

           "They can be forgiving."

           "I wouldn't be, if I were them." He groaned. "Here I am, being cared for by the enemy. It changes a man's perspective. It was so easy to do my job until…"

           "Until what?"

           "Until you." He looked at you again, eyes boring into yours before they dropped to look at the space between you. "You made me look at things differently. I sorely wish you hadn't."

           "I'm glad I did. If not, I don't think I'd be alive. I didn't mean to make things so hard for you, but I'm glad, too. It means you understand the good and the bad in your occupation."

           "Do you understand it in yours?"

           "Of course. We have to make a conscious decision every day, that we're doing more good than evil. It's hard, isn't it?"

           "Yes."

           You talked until the sun sank beyond the horizon. It felt wrong to sleep in the room, now that he was better, but part of you wanted to stay, just in case. 

           As if reading your mind, he said, "It's time we slept, I think." 

           Neither of you made a move to do so. "Will you be able to sleep? With all the worries in your head?"

           "I doubt it."

           "Do you want me to stay?" You asked tentatively. 

           You could tell Norrington was fighting with himself over the answer. "Yes," he admitted. He moved over on the cot as much as he was able, and you slid in with him. Tucked beside him, one of his arms around you, you both managed to drift off. 

           It was late when you woke. It took a moment for your exhausted body to realize it was tangled in Norrington's. Your head was on his chest, your legs were tangled together, and his arms were wrapped around you. His fingers rested in the strands of your hair. You were sure to wake him the moment you moved. Keeping still, you found yourself enjoying being so close to him. 

           Only when you felt him petting your hair did you realize that he was awake. “Sleep well?” You mumbled. 

           He yawned. “Yes. And you?”

           “Better than I’ve slept in a long time,” you admitted. Fighting your desire to stay abed with him, you pushed yourself up so you could look at him. “We should get you propped up. Maybe today we can help you stand and walk around some.”

           “I could do with a good stretch.”

           You helped him sit up, stacking pillows and blankets behind him to prop him up. Then, you sat on the bed behind him, pulling out a hairbrush. You teased the knots out of his long hair. It was longer now- barely, but you noticed. 

           “Just like old times,” said James. 

           You couldn’t help but smile. You still barely knew each other, but there was a strong connection between you. You’d been through impactful events together, helping each other. You’d each saved the other’s life. “What were we talking about that day?” You knew the answer, but asked anyway. 

           “Our mothers. Mine would have liked you, I think.”

           There was no mirror in which to see his face this time, so you had to guess at his expression. “Mine would have liked you, too.” 

           “Even though I’m the enemy?”

           “Yes. But what would your mother think of a pirate?”

           “She’d want to hear all about your great adventures.”

           There was a moment of silence. “You’ll want to see her again, I suppose. Go back home to your life once you’ve healed.”

           “Of course I want that.” Norrington didn’t sound convincing.

           You didn’t want to talk about it. Instead, you asked him for his given name. “You know mine,” you said. “It’s only fair that I know yours.”

           “James.”

           “Well, James, now that I’m done brushing your hair, let’s get you dressed. I’m sure I can find a new shirt for you somewhere.” You left for a moment, trying to collect yourself while simultaneously getting a shirt. It hadn’t occurred to you before that he’d leave again. You pushed the thought away, unwilling to let it take hold of you.

           When you returned, you helped slip the shirt over James’ head. He managed to sit on the edge of the bed with his feet resting on the floor. The surgeon had dressed him in beige trousers earlier, so all you had to worry about was buttoning up the front of his shirt. His breath skipped a little each time your fingers brushed his chest, and a light flush fell across both your faces. 

           Getting him out of bed was a harder process. James had grown weak in sickness, and it took all his strength just to stand. Once that was accomplished, you helped him walk to the side of the room where he could use the walls and doorframe for support. “Do you think you can go up stairs?” You asked. You were concerned that he couldn’t make it on deck. 

           “I can try.”

           “I don’t think I could catch you if you fell.”

           He snorted. “Probably not. I’m much larger than you are, after all.”

           Despite your concerns, James got down the hallway and up the stairs with little trouble. It was slow going, and he stumbled a few times, but you righted him with a hand on his chest. In the open air, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the morning sun. You led him to the railing and looked out over the sea. James stared out with sad eyes. Tired eyes, like they’ve always been. Still, he looks even more tired now than when I knew him last.

           “We’ll stop in Tortuga soon. We’ll let you and your remaining crew off there, I think.” You didn’t know why you were telling him. Perhaps you were trying to warn him that there was little time left for the two of you together. Maybe you were begging him to stay. “You can arrange passage from there to home.”

           “Home.” He gave you a sad smile. “There are people I have to go back to. People who want to know I’m safe. People I want to see again. Home is really just people, isn’t it?”

           “I think so, yes. Would you go back, if they weren’t there? Would you go back to your job?”

           “I owe it to my country.”

           “You could just as easily slip away, pretend to have died in the storm.”

           He sighed. “And what would happen if I ran into somebody I knew during a fight, or a raid? What then?” He reached out with a hand to cup your face. “You know I can’t stay. You have to let me go.” You could tell that he was trying to convince himself, too. That he had to let you go.

           “Will I ever see you again, do you think?”

           “If you do, we’ll be on opposite sides.”

           “After that. After sides. Will I see you then?”

           “After sides,” he mused. “The likelihood that either of us retire is slim.” There were unspoken words there. One of us is bound to die before then. “Though I can only hope.”

           “How will I find you?” 

           “I’m not certain you will. It’s a long wait.”

           “It’ll be worth it, to see you again.”

           He held your hand, saying nothing more, looking off into the morning sun. Everyone on deck could see you, but you didn’t care. Not really. Once James was gone, he was gone, and you weren’t likely to see him again. No matter how hard you tried to convince yourself, you knew you wouldn’t find him. You might as well spend time close to him while you could. 

           “Promise me this,” he squeezed your hand, still staring into the distance, “if you do find me, don’t leave.”

           You laid your head on his shoulder. “I promise.”

                                                               ~~~~~

           The English coast was a bleak strip of shoreline bombarded by dark waters. A chill sat heavy in the air, and you pulled your coat tighter to you. You could hardly keep your eyes off the compass in front of you. The unwavering point directed you forward.

           It had been hard to find him, after all the years. It had taken more than a few pulled strings. Bits of gossip overheard in London, contradictory stories from his old crew members, and a bit of magic had gotten you to the colorless coastline ahead. The compass you’d stolen off another pirate, and you’d had to steal dresses to fit in with Londoners. Finding people he’d known was the hardest part; you only knew the few members of his crew that had left with him off your ship. 

           Once ashore, you nearly took to running. There were few houses so close to the cliffs of Dover, but some sat nestled in the rolling fields. The compass pointed you down a dirt road which you followed until you were out of sight of any houses. You could vaguely see the outline of another building through the mists. 

           It was a quaint sort of house, away from everything. It overlooked the ocean and was surrounded by wheat fields. Just the sort of place in which to hide. James wasn’t one for big cities, you guessed. He wanted to live peacefully, away from a world where his name was known to nearly everyone. You were surprised he wasn’t married with children, but life had a way of doing that- surprising you. 

           Nobody answered the door when you knocked, and you were afraid he wasn’t really there. But after a few moments, the door swung open. 

           His hair was short and graying, and he looked considerably older, but it was undeniably him. His eyes hadn’t changed. Ever tired, ever sad, and ever beautiful. You didn’t waste a moment, slipping right into his arms. 

           “You found me.” His voice was full to bursting with emotions, and you wouldn’t be surprised if a few tears had found their way down his cheeks. 

           “I told you I would.”

           “Will you stay?”

           “Didn’t I promise?”

[ahtohallan-calling]

chapter 10 of it’s always ourselves we find is here!

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 

[kristanna / m / modern au / coworkers & enemies to lovers ;) ]

Once again, he was woken up by a hand shaking his shoulder and Anna’s voice as she said, “Kris. Kristoff. Wake up, I need you.”

“Mmff...what?” he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes.

“Remember how yesterday you said you owed me a favor?”

“Uh-huh.”

Through bleary eyes, he watched as she bit her lip, her eyes nervous. “I need to call it in.”

That got him waking up. He pushed himself up on an elbow with a wide yawn. “Okay, I’m up. What do you need me to do?”

Her face melted into a fond smile. “Nothing. I just need to borrow one of your shirts.”

“What for?”

“To wear.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think that’s gonna fit you.”

“I’ll make it work. I have to. We’ve got that conference call with Harry today doing the dry run, remember? And I, um...I forgot my nice dress was bunched up in the bottom of my suitcase, and I just realized my shampoo leaked all over it, and--”

“Alright, alright, yeah, just grab one from the closet, no problem,” he said with another yawn. “But it’s really not gonna fit.”

A sigh of relief escaped her. “Thank you so much, seriously.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Quick as lightning, she leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek. “Go back to sleep, Kris, it’s not even half-past six.”

The only reply he could conjure up was a nod, hoping the room was still too dim for her to notice he was blushing. Mercifully, she only lingered long enough to squeeze his shoulder before darting towards the bathroom.

The next time he woke up, it was to the beep of his alarm at a quarter past seven. He sat up, swung his legs over the side, and stretched, his back cracking as he arched his arms over his head. Anna peered around the corner of the bathroom then, her hair falling in soft curls over her shoulder. “Morning, sleeping beauty,” she said cheerfully.

“Morning. How’s the shirt situation working out?”

“You tell me,” she said, a little shy, before stepping out so he could see her.

Fuck, he’d never been so glad to be wrong. The shirt didn’t fit the way it was supposed to; it hung loosely around her slender frame, the hem hitting a couple of inches above her knees and revealing the graceful line of her freckled legs. She’d pulled a cardigan on over it, hiding the way the seams had to be falling off her shoulders, and left the top buttons undone, showing off her collarbone and a delicate gold necklace that nestled there. Kristoff didn’t know a hell of a lot about fashion, but he did know that she looked like she’d walked right out of one of the giant posters he saw stuck up at the mall-- and that he’d be more than happy if she wore his clothes for the rest of her life.

“Is it that bad?” she asked timidly, and he realized he’d been gaping at her in silence for what was probably an embarrassingly long amount of time.

“Jesus, Anna,” he breathed, “you’re keeping that shirt, okay?”

Her cheeks colored at that, but when she crossed to stand in front of him, she was wearing a smile. “Will you help me roll the sleeves up? The shirt’s all bunched up under the cardigan, but I think if I roll them up and over and get the cuffs right it’ll look better.”

“Of course. Let me see.”

She lifted an arm, and he began carefully rolling up the sleeves the way she’d requested, feeling his mouth go dry as he saw how delicate her wrist was next to his broad hands. He wanted to linger there when he was done, trail his fingers over the pale, silky skin of her forearm and press a kiss to her palm, but instead moved to the other arm without even looking up.

“Thanks, Kris,” she said when he had finished, catching his hand in hers before he could pull away.

He gave her fingers a soft squeeze and glanced up at her with a lopsided grin. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. This almost makes up for all the times you’ve stolen my post-its. Now hurry up and get ready before the line for the waffle maker gets long.”

“Knowing you, feistypants, you’ll just elbow your way past anyone who gets between you and something sweet.”

“And knowing you, you’ll just glare at anyone who takes too long at the coffee pot and they’ll melt away on the spot.”

“I glare at you all the time, and you’re still here,” he pointed out.

She grinned at him then, and something about it made his heart constrict. “Yeah,” she said warmly, “I am.”

---

“Excellent work, you guys,” Harry said with a grin. Behind him, Elsa gave them a thumbs-up and mouthed fuck yeah.

Kristoff set a hand surreptitiously on Anna’s lower back, like he’d been doing during the whole presentation, as if to steady himself. “Thanks, boss,” he said, his relief palpable.

“Any suggestions for how we can improve it?” Anna asked. “Do you think using Prezi slows it down too much? I can remake it in Keynote if you want, or I already have a backup PowerPoint.”

“No, I--”

“And are there enough pictures? I know people get overwhelmed with blocks of text, but for some of this the pictures felt extraneous, so I just thought--”

“Anna, no, it’s--”

“And did I talk too much? I know I tend to go on and on and--”

“Miss Delle,” Harry said firmly, and her mouth snapped shut. “I typed a short list of critiques. Once Elsa has a look over it and adds her own thoughts, I’ll email it to you. But it’s all very minor stuff, really. The important thing is that you two really know your stuff about the tech we’re using and our online sales and engagement strategies. Seriously, great work. We’ve got a conference call in a minute, though, so if you don’t mind--”

“Oh, of course! Thanks so much, Harry, really,” Anna said breathlessly. “See you Monday!”

She headed over to where the laptop was perched on a lectern, moving to click the red button and end the call. Before she did, though, she watched as on the other end, Harry turned to her sister and said, “Don’t know why the hell my brother’s always requesting we review their department, do you?”

For a moment she froze, hearing Kristoff suck in a breath behind her. Harry glanced over his shoulder then and said, “Oh, sorry guys, forgot to hang up.”

“I’ve got it!” Anna squeaked, ending the video call before he could say another word.

She turned on her heel and saw Kristoff hadn’t moved, his expression inscrutable. She crossed back towards him, but his eyes didn’t move from the now-black screen. “Fucking rat bastard, huh?” she asked softly, setting her fingertips lightly against his forearm.

He sighed and looked down at the floor, not meeting her eyes. “Yeah.”

She bit her lip, lingering for a moment to see if he said anything else, but his thoughts were clearly miles away. She slid her hand down then to give his fingers a brief squeeze before turning away to retrieve her laptop and settle back down at the table they’d been working at in the most out-of-the-way meeting room they could find. 

Kristoff joined her after a moment, already slipping his reading glasses back on as he hunched over his laptop. “I gotta finish running these reports,” he said, not looking up, “then I’ll help you with whatever Harry said.”

“No worries,” Anna replied, tapping her fingers against the table as she waited for the email to come in. 

Harry, despite being one of the baker’s dozen and one Westergaard brothers, was, all things considered, a more than decent boss. He never got too in the way of the work, was always willing to listen to new ideas, and-- most importantly, in Anna’s opinion-- kept Elsa, who worked as his executive assistant, from overworking herself like she always tended to do. When Anna had been hired on, he hadn’t known the two of them were related, but he’d grinned when he found out and said he was looking forward to having the pair of them around.

As far as Anna knew, he was higher up on the ladder than Hans in terms of who was likely to inherit the company when it was passed down to the next generation, and she was grateful for it. Hans saw everything from a sales perspective and didn’t bother to consider the people involved, and he was outright cruel to people when it suited him, whether it made sense or not. She couldn’t help but wonder why Kristoff in particular was--

A large hand settled over her still-tapping fingers, pressing them flat against the table, and she jumped in surprise. Her eyes flicked up to see Kristoff looking at her, half-amused and half-irritated.

“You’re gonna drive me insane if you keep doing that,” he teased, his voice light.

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly, “just got lost in thought.”

“S’alright,” he reassured her, sliding his thumb under her palm so he could squeeze her hand. “Is the email in yet?”

“Oh-- I wasn’t even looking!”

She returned the squeeze before pulling away to refresh her inbox. “Here it is-- yeah, Harry says....’switch slide four and six….bigger font for the headers...great job.’ And Elsa says ‘relax, both of you’.” 

When she looked up, Kristoff looked stunned. “That’s it? Really?”

“I...yeah. Shit, maybe we work together better than we thought.”

They exchanged shy smiles, each of them unsure of what exactly to do next. The fixes would take less than five minutes; there was nothing left to do but present tomorrow. Well, Anna corrected herself, he probably has lots of emails still about IT problems, probably wants me to get out of his way--

“Do you...do you wanna take a break?” Kristoff asked suddenly, raising one hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Like...we’re at the beach, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Anna replied, trying to quell the tide of excitement in her chest that was going to overwhelm her if she wasn’t careful.

“And we’re the only department with something big like this, so everybody else has already been doing fun stuff, you know?”

“Definitely.”

“So...we could have a turn. For a little bit, anyway?”

She couldn’t fight her smile any longer. “So...what do you wanna do?”

He grinned. “Race you to the room and then down to the beach?”

Before he could say another word, she was on her feet and running for the door, her laughter trailing behind her.

[purplesurveys]

804

All About the Letter A!

Please List! (at least one)

Animals I Like: Aspins! That’s what we call our native dogs, and usually they’re street dogs. Since they come from the street, they can eat all types of human food with no problem and are generally less likely to contract serious diseases. They make for amazing guard dogs and are just the best companions. Kimi’s part aspin :)

Foods I Like: There’s a local place that makes really good avocado cheesecake, and I’ll go with that.

I Know Someone Who’s (jobs): Anthropologist, air cabin crew, and accountant.

I Wouldn’t Mind Visiting: Athens, Arizona, Antarctica.

Sometimes I Feel: Anxious is the word I’m looking for most of the time these days. Sometimes I also get agitated.

Music I Listen To: Against Me!, Ariana Grande, alt-J, Adele.

Movies I’ve Seen: Anomalisa, A Clockwork Orange, A Nightmare on Elm Street, A Streetcar Named Desire, Amélie, American History X, Adventureland.

Names I Like: Amelie/Amelia, Alessandra, Arden, Ava, Audrey.

And now, onto the random questions!

Are you able to distinguish the difference of when to use “a” versus “and”? If the survey meant a/an, then yes.

Have you ever been in an airplane before? Yessss, a bunch of times. Riding airplanes never fails to make me feel excited, too.

Are you available? No. Which reminds me of some asshole who messaged my Facebook last week and said he wanted “to talk” to me because I’m “pretty.” I was the most horrified demisexual and my fingers went straight to the Block option lol.

What’s the best/funniest “autocorrect” that has happened to you/in your phone? Fuck turning into duck is always funny.

Abercrombie, American Eagle, or Aeropostale for clothes? Pass. I think all three of these shops went out of style like a decade ago.

Do you believe in angels or aliens? I believe in extraterrestrial life but not in the big head, green skin, big black eyes way that they’re usually portrayed as. I don’t believe in angels.

Have you ever been arrested? Nope.

Can you tell the difference between acute, right, and obtuse angles? Yes.

Do you appreciate art? In which forms? I appreciate all kinds of art, but like if I was in an art museum I would always flock to paintings.

Does any part of your body currently ache? Which part? Nothing is aching but my entire body is feeling very hot because it’s noon.

Do you get a lot of acne? Only whenever I’m really stressed in school. When all my deadlines start coming together, there’s always one or two noticeable pimples that show up and it’s always in an unfortunate area on my face, like in the middle of my eyes.

Are you athletic? To an extent, I guess? I can play table tennis and have shown good reflexes in sports like futsal.

Who/what are you attracted to? What attractive qualities do you find appealing? I’m demisexual; who I’m attracted to depends on who I’ve become close with, so having a list of desirable traits around doesn’t work for me.

Favorite author? I don’t have one.

Favorite actor or actress: Kate Winslet.

Do you consume alcohol? Yesssss and am always down for it.

Do you have any ailments? Not anymore! I had a UTI last week but with some very good antibiotics prescribed to me by Angela’s mom I’ve been feeling better for around a week now. It was bad for a while though and I kept having a fever that never went away and I could barely go up and down the stairs without feeling faint.

Do you wear an apron when you cook? No. I don’t think we even have aprons at home.

What time do you normally fall asleep? Midnight or a few hours after that.

Have you ever broken your arm or your ankle? I’ve sprained an ankle before. I had a bad fall, embarrassingly, in front of a rally that was ongoing at school at the time.

What is your age? 22.

Do you typically win or lose arguments? With Gabie, it only ever ends in a truce because neither of us like losing. With my mom, I let her win so that I can pretty much continue staying in this house, but she doesn’t know I could essentially kill her if I just chose to turn up my arguments to 100% lmao. 

Do you believe in astrology? No and it’s really hard to like people who take them incredibly seriously. A worst breed of people is those who like astrology but relentlessly shit on the MBTI test like...sure it might be bogus too, but at least you take a million questions about your personality on the MBTI test...

Do you enjoy going to amusement parks? My friends and I don’t ever have time to go to amusement parks, but even if we did, I’d probably be the friend that doesn’t go half the time. I just wouldn’t get my money’s worth in places like those since I don’t go on rides anyway.

Do you like the color aqua? It’s not a bad color at all. < True.

What are your aspirations? Get a great start into my career, save some money to help my parents for a bit, move out, travel some, and ultimately, all the white picket fence stuff with the person I’ll be with. Idk, I’m conventional when it comes to my goals.

Do you have any allergies? I don’t.

What is one of your most awkward moments? I have at least one everyday. Same goes for embarrassing moments.

Describe your appearance: I’m 5′1″, black shoulder-length hair with bangs, dark brown eyes, two ear piercings with one of the piercings ripped open from an accident, and shoulders that are a little bit tilted if you look closely because of my scoliosis.

What kind of an accent do you have? I wouldn’t know how to describe it but I have just a teeeeeny bit of an American accent due to me talking in English most of the time with nearly everyone I know, but it’s not perfect because of my Filipino tongue. It’s the same accent as those who went to private school and speaks English as a first language.

Are you addicted to anything? I don’t have any serious addictions but I will never pass up the chance to eat macarons, cheesecake, and any dish with truffle in it.

What are you afraid of? Death, cockroaches, losing the people I love, being in the kitchen and having something get on fire, getting eaten alive by an animal, drowning in the middle of the ocean or sea.

Are you big on showing affection? Intimately, like if it’s only the two of us together. I don’t like being too showy when in public because I know a good number of people don’t like it.

Do you live in an apartment? Nope. House.

Do you prefer Apple products? Yeah, all the gadgets I use regularly are Apple.

Have you ever received an award? For what? The last one I received was in elementary school for winning in a quiz bee.

Are you an Aquarius or an Aries? No.

Which alarms have you heard before? My phone’s, the fire alarm in emergency drills, the national local alerts on my phone whenever there’s a typhoon, earthquake, or volcano eruption, firetruck siren, ambulance siren, police siren.

Have you ever been under anesthesia before? What was the outcome? No and I am scaredddddd for the possibility. As far as I know that’s an injection too; and besides, I might end up saying embarrassing shit in front of my parents.

Anything else that you’d like to ask? Nopes.

[a-zebra-is-a-striped-horse]

[todokiis]

50 Questions You’ve Never Been Asked

Tagged by @citrusveins ✨🌟:) thanks for the tag citrus!

1. What is the color of your hairbrush?:

It’s got that like duo chrome/oil slick paint on it. I don’t know how else to describe it?

2. Name a food you never eat?:

Hm, Steak. Honestly most meat I prefer to stay away from. I’m not like officially vegetarian but I’ve never really enjoyed meat that much.

3. Are you typically too warm or too cold?:

Too cold! I have a space heater in my room and I bring a jacket with me everywhere cause I’m always freezing.

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago?:

I was on a conference call with my boss discussing some t-shirt designs I’m working on.

5. What is your favorite candy bar?:

Hershey’s chocolate bar with almonds in it. <3 I slap that baby between two nature valley bars and BAM, you got yourself a vending machine smore.

6. Have you ever been to a professional sports event?:

No lmao. But I did enjoy going to all the football games in high school if that counts for anything.

7. What is the last thing you said out loud?:

“Okay, sure.” (Visiting my parents and my mother asked if I could check their mail)

8. What is your favorite ice cream?:

LEMON. And in a waffle cone to be precise. But if that isn’t an option I will take any kind of coffee flavor.

9. What was the last thing you had to drink?:

Coffee. Still working through the cup I poured this morning.

10. Do you like your wallet?:

Yes. It’s shaped like a rainbow and it’s pastel but kinda clear and v cute if I do say so myself. 🌈

11. What was the last thing you ate?:

Some of my leftover lemon birthday cake. I really like lemon if you haven’t picked up on that lmao.

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend?:

Nah, but I did buy wall decor for my bedroom.

13. The last sporting event you watched?:

Probably... the Super Bowl like a year or two ago... maybe?

14. What is your favorite flavor of popcorn?:

White cheddar but I usually don’t eat it just cause the texture kinda bothers me.

15. Who is the last person you sent a text message to?:

My coworker. It was in response to a rupaul gif she sent to our work gc.

16. Ever go camping?:

Embarrassingly enough I think I have to admit that I’m a bit too high maintenance for camping. I love nature though! But if I can’t stay in like a cabin or RV then it’s not really for me. ☠️

17. Do you take vitamins?:

Yes. It takes forever to get through them all in the morning.

18. Do you go to church every Sunday?:

Nope. Had enough religious trauma the first 17 years of my life, don’t plan on revisiting that experience lmao.

19. Do you have a tan?:

NO BUT I USED TO DAMMIT. But, I chose the life of someone who works inside all day. 😪

20. Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza?:

ChineseFoodChineseFoodChineseFoodChineseFoodChineseF- 🥡🥢

21. Do you drink your soda with a straw?:

I don’t really drink soda but every now and then I say fuck it and have a coke if I need to pull an all-nighter or something.

22. What color socks do you usually wear?:

Black.

23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit?:

Only when I’m on the highways cause I travel back and forth between two cities a lot. That drive is so exhausting so sometime I push the limit when there aren’t a lot of cars around.

24. What terrifies you?:

Public speaking for like serious events. Straight up passed out a few times. But if it’s for fun stuff or casual presentations it’s not too bad.

25. Look to your left, what do you see?:

Pillows. I’m laying in bed while I answer these.

26. What chore do you hate?:

Laundry D; I don’t like how long it takes to fold everything and put it away!

27. What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent?:

Americans who love to do terrible Australian accents lmao.

28. What’s your favorite soda?:

Coke. Don’t drink it very often though.

29. Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-thrus?:

Drive thru only. I got things to do, hennie.

30. Who’s the last person you talked to?:

My dad.

31. Favorite cut of beef?:

None. I don’t like beef. 🤢

32. Last song you listened to?:

Beast by Mia Martina

33. Last book you read?:

Some book on ancient Andean art for the art history class I finished like a week ago.

34. Favorite day of the week?:

Friday! Friday afternoons when I’m free from work feel so so good :,)

35. Can you say the alphabet backwards?:

It would take me so unbearably long.

36. How do you like your coffee?:

Strong, and preferably iced. More on the bitter side than the sweet side.

37. Favorite pair of shoes?:

My white adidas 80s Continentals. I am a slut for adidas sneakers OTL.

38. The time you normally go to sleep?:

Usually 2 A.M. or somewhere around that.

39. The time you normally get up?:

I get up at about 8 or 9 AM but I don’t usually get out of bed until like 10:30 or 11. I am trash, I know.

40. What do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets?:

It’s hard to choose but probably sunsets. Watching the sun set over the water and the clouds get all pink and purple and the sand looking all glowy... ugh I love it.

41. How many blankets on your bed?:

Two ✌🏼.

42. Describe your kitchen plates:

All black. That’s it. Lmao

43. Do you have a favorite alcoholic beverage?:

I don’t really drink but lemon drops if I’m out at a bar. (piña-coladas on the beach fucking SLAP tho so maybe that.)

44. Do you play cards?:

I used to all the time but it’s been years.

45. What color is your car?:

Gold and I hate it. I refuse to acknowledge that thing as my car.

46. Can you change a tire?:

No... & I didn’t come here to get shamed ☠️

47. Your favorite province?:

I am from the U.S. so I’m just gonna... skip this one I guess lol

48. Favorite job you’ve ever had?:

My current job as a Graphic designer.

49. How did you get your biggest scar?:

Fell on concrete at recess as a kid and busted up most of my left knee pretty bad.

50. What did you do today that made someone else happy?:

Hm... made my bosses and my coworker laugh in our skype call with my general tom foolery I guess. But I’ll probably spam my best friend some dumb tiktoks later that I know will make her laugh.

Hm, I think I’ll tag the last few peeps from my notes ✨ feel free to do this if you’d like. No pressure though! 💛 @icychill @eloquentdreams @tobiodel-ay-ee-hoo and anyone else who sees this and wants to participate!!

[richiardtozier]

Ooooh please elaborate more with chubby stan hcs maybe?

thank you to @hawkinsbabe for helping me with some of these bc my big dumb brain gave out on me ilysm also stanlon snuck its way in it just happened I hope you don’t mind also also this got super super long I am sorry

cute patterned button ups are stans Brand and this is the hill I will die on

his favorite is his one with lil birds all over it (thank you to jo for this bit she’s a genius)

(also mike bought him this shirt on impulse when he found it in a store it’s the facts)

anyway

one morning while he was getting dressed to head to mikes, and was buttoning down said bird shirt, he happened to look down and notice that the birds didn’t lay flat like they used to

the ones around his belly were sticking out and stretched looking

he was kinda :( and figured that maybe his favorite shirt had shrunk and he hadn’t noticed

he tried on a few more but they all fit kinda tight as well and he could still see some of his belly sticking out

and he’s never given anyone a hard time or thought less of anyone of any body type

and of course he never would

but looking at himself in the mirror he just felt ..... embarrassed and insecure

and his ocd definitely did not help

his clothes were always straight and neat

this was the opposite of straight and neat

there were creases and wrinkles where it should have been flat and smooth and it wasn’t right

he decided to throw on a hoodie over his clothes and leave it at that

it wasn’t his favorite look but he looked put together enough to calm his nerves though the thought of what was underneath was like an itch he couldn’t scratch

after hanging out a mikes for a while mike could tell something was bothering him

so he asked

and stan was like wym I’m fine

but mike gets it out of him. he always does

stan just removes his hoodie and gestures to his torso with a shy look on his face as an explanation

mikes like “cute shirt”

and stans like no LOOK

and mikes like stan ?????? what ?????

and stan doesn’t want to come right out and say “look at me I’m getting fat” so he just continues with the hand gestures until he gets so frustrated that tears begin to well in his eyes

mikes like oh no what oh no oh no

so stan eventually does come right out and say it and mikes like you’re beautiful and I love you!!!!! and tells him that having a tummy and gaining a little weight literally does not matter at all and everything about him is so good and so pretty

and stans like well now that I’m looking at myself my legs have gotten bigger too I’m gonna have to go buy new jeans nothing fits it’s all different it’s all bad and gross and I don’t like it

and mike just bby ily :(

and stans like :’) but still very self conscious

so for a while he still stuck to hoodies and loose fitting clothes

mike tried to help him in anyway he could but stan just always felt like mike was just being a good boyfriend and saying what he thought stan would want to hear

he wasn’t of course he was always genuine but stan just couldn’t see how mike was still attracted to him

but this was around the same time that Eddie and Ben began embracing their bodies and exhibiting an amount of confidence that kind of intimidated stan

bc he wasn’t like them. he didn’t seem to grow into his body like they did

Eddie and Ben looked... well. good. the extra weight on them seemed to fit.

but he didn’t see it that way for him

the extra bits of him the spilled over or jiggled when moved just seemed wrong

Ben got him alone one day though and eventually got to the bottom of why stan had been acting a little off lately

and Ben wanted to help him so bad bc he’s been where stans at before and sometimes he still gets that mindset of thinking he was unnatractive

and Ben knew for a fact that stan was beautiful inside and out

“trust me, stan. I would know. I look at you every single day.”

bens a sweetie and stan loves him

Ben gets stan to meet him and Eddie after school and they get Eddie up to speed on stans issue

and of course Eddie wants to help stan bc he’s a sweetie and stan loves him

stan mentions how he’s been meaning to go shopping for bigger and looser clothes

Eddie and Ben agree to go shopping, but they tell him it’s definitely not to get clothes that are too big

they each pick out clothes for stan and send him to the dressing room and as soon as stan begins to try on all the clothes he instantly becomes panicky

he goes off saying none of these clothes would fit right he doesn’t fit none of its right it’s all wrong

Ben has experience with the whole “having a panic attack in the dressing room” thing and Eddie has a experience with the whole “panic attack thing” in general so they’re immediately at stans side

they explain to him that no one has to see him in these clothes but them and that even they don’t have to and they could just go home if he wanted

but stan craves the confidence they both seem to have in their bodies and agrees to stay

when stan takes a closer look at all of the clothes they picked out he was confused bc.... they were all his normal style and in the same size as most of his old clothes

but he puts them on anyway bc he trusts them

he puts on a black button up patterned with tiny white polka dots with a pair of skinny jeans (which stan found ironic and rolled his eyes) bc it was his favorite outfit out of the pile

he got it on and looked in the mirror and just as he suspected he could see his tummy sticking past his jeans and his jeans hugging his waist in a way he didn’t find very flattering

he stepped out anyway and refused to meet the other two in the eye figuring that they would send him right back and in and tell him this was a stupid idea after all

instead he was met with an embarrassingly loud wolf whistle from ben and sound similar to what he’d describe as a squeal come from eddie which confused him

his face must have given away what he was feeling bc Eddie just laughed and said “stan would you look in the mirror”

so stan did and he was still confused all he could see was fat and he stared at it wishing he could literally burn it off with an evil glare

Ben speaks next and tells him stop looking at his stomach and to just look at himself. as a whole. and see how sick he looks in this outfit

stan does. he lifts his head up and looks at himself. all of him. and huh. wouldn’t ya know

he turns around and around checking all different angles and smiled despite himself

“I guess I look alright”

Eddie laughs and says “Which translates to ‘you guys were right. I’m smoking hot.’ In stan language”

so they help him like this for a while

and it does take a while

but soon stan does have his confidence back

he eventually buys his first crop top bc Eddie could see the way he always watched as Eddie strutted around in them and Eddie decided maybe stan should try it out and see how it feels

Stan LOVES it

he goes with one on the longer side bc confindence or no confidence... it just really wasn’t his style

he wouldn’t say he’d wear it out on the town, but he does like the idea of it and he likes how hot he feels in it

and it’s been a long time since he felt hot

and he wanted a certain boyfriend to see him in it

so he wears it to mikes one day as kind of.... a surprise and he was super nervous bc it had been a while since he met mike see him without being fully covered

he was trying but there was still that hesitation

but here he was at mikes house wearing a cropped t shirt and here mike is standing in front of him biting his lip and looking like he’s about to pass the fuck out

some things go down and I’ll leave it up to your imagination

and that was sort of the last step for stan to be able to really love his body

and that was the first time he let mike really love his body

and now that mike has gotten the chance he couldn’t get enough

not just sexually though. he just loved stan and he loved his body and he always wanted stan to feel that too

tummy kisses galore y’all

y’all know I love me some tummy kisses

and so does mike and so does stan

mike also loves to stand behind stan and wrap his arms around his waist and give him really big hugs :(

he’ll always give his tummy little squeezes too to make stan laugh

that’s all I got folks damn this was long I just started typing and now here we are I’m so annoying ahsjjdje

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

obi finding kiki's scars, like under her arm braces, or wherever you like (big eyes emoji)

Prompts are currently closed while I catch up. I will announce when I am open! :)

A/N: Again, I am here, trying to work through my promptpile by offering you another sneak peak of a WIP. This time, it’s from a futurereveal or hidden scene of Best Laid Plans. 

Pairing: Kikiobi

Content warning: Reference to sex, adults making stupiddecisions while drunk, and frank discussions of past self-harm/cutting.

Mornings, as her father would tell anyone, have never beenKiki’s strongest suit. For a girl raised in the country, she was downright allergicto them, thriving only when her father sent her to the city or adjusting thewhole households schedule for her benefit. The days seemed brighter when shecould stay abed until noon, the nights more tolerable when she could hone herblade by moonlight.

Come dawn, though- Well, the early hours were made for the birds. And she was no bird.

She had gotten better with age, though, much to her father’s and Izana’s pleasure. Mitsuhide’s Sereg upbringing and total patience was capable of training even an owl to rise with the sun. He kept his voice soft, prompting both Zen and her into quiet contemplation, prodding them with the simplest of questions until they fully awoke, but still-

She hated them.

This morning might take first place for the worst among them, though. Groggy, her eyesbarely open through the crust of sleep gluing them together, only to slam shutthe moment light meets them.

Mother’s milk and father’s porridge, what was in that drink last night?

Moaning, Kiki rubs her face against soft bedding, handstangling in her own hair and finding a mess. Flopping, she turns on her side,away from the window, and glances down at her body.

Her clothes are gone.

Obi must’ve been here, then.

He’s not here now, though, and both her bed and her fireplaceis cold. Squinting at the clock ticking far too loudly upon the mantle, shegroans at the thought of waiting for two more hours for the maids to show upwhen all she needs is a simple drink of water. So she gets her arms underneathher, pushes herself up-

-and hisses when she’s rewarded with a sharp painshooting straight from her wrist to her elbow.

She’s already lowered herself back to the bed when shehears a familiar voice drawl, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You weren’texactly kind to it last night.”

Dragging her head across her pillow, Kiki flinches whenlight briefly blinds her, the familiar silhouette of Obi crawling through herwindow coming into relief.

“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice more muffled cloth than actual human words.

“Helping!” he chirps, grin on his face and really- Hermemories are a fog, broken pieces scattered by sensation and noise, but eachone that floats to the surface tells her that her behavior was barelyacceptable last night, even by Obi’s feeble standards. And yet still, he wavesa bucket and a nondescript bag of… something in her direction like he’s nothere to dispatch her. “I am a decent hand at first aid unless you want to explainour little adventure last night to Miss.”

Wincing, she flops her hand in his general direction.“Close the window. You’re letting in a chill.”

His smile thins, but he pullsthe pane shut, closing the curtain so the room reaches a level of dark that istolerable. Her eyes flutter shut gratefully. “Thank you.”

As always, he is quiet, crossing the room with thatunearthly silence that makes him more ghost than flesh and blood. It would bedisconcerting if she did not know him. Even more if he did not make apoint to allow the bucket and bag to make something of a sound when he set themon the bedside table.

“How’s your head?” he asks, hushed.

“Horrible,” she replies, and is pleased when that earnsher a little laugh.

“Yes, well,” he sighs. “Next time get something a littleless poisonous.”

“I was going off the seller’s recommendation,” sheprotests.

“For what? An early grave?” Liquid sloshes into acontainer somewhere near her head. “Water?”

“Oh gods, yes.” Peaking a single eye open, Kiki wraps herhand around the cool glass being pressed to her. She sips, careful because she’s not such a fool that she thinks her stomach is in muchbetter shape than her head. “Thank you.”

He hums, pulling the cup from her hand, and she is justdrifting off, just being pulled back under when her wrist jostles, the tug oflacings being pulled through leather straps loud in her ears, and she- shepanics.

“Don’t!” she snaps, fully awake as she yanks her handaway. It’s too fast and it jars, white hot pain lacing all the way to hershoulder this time; through each and every finger, too. It, embarrassingly enough, pulls awhimper from her.

The sigh registers through her pain, as do Obi’s mutteredwords about how no wonder miss complains.

“Fine,” he says, and when she opens her eyes again, he is settinga prepared ice pack back in the bucket. “But when your wrist swells up to thesize of a grapefruit and you have to be cut out of that wrist guard, I don’twant to hear any complaints.”

Kiki stares at him, frowning. His profile is sharp, noteven watching her out of the tail of his eye, and she wonders about the natureof words, how people abandon their vocabulary and adopt another’s. Just how manyare his, and how many- how many are- are hers.

Slowly, carefully, she uncoils her arm from itsprotective hold against her chest. “Sorry,” she mutters. “It’s habit.”

He stares at her, the pupils of his strange eyes bleedingwide in the dark, and it’s hard to meet them. Even now. But he doesn’t sayanything. For once in his life, he is silent. Instead, he just reaches out,tugging on the laces. “Let me know if it hurts.”

She doesn’t, even when it does. But he is being gentle with her, moving her arm no more than necessary until he peels the leather backand she lifts so he can pull it out from underneath her.

Cool air touches sweaty skin and Kiki cannot meet hiseyes so she stares at the pale skin, the rooms shadows and little hatch marks ofpink somewhat hiding the silvery lines of white scratching themselves up and downthe soft of her forearm. It’s been a while since she’s seen them last in full light. She wonders if she should count them like prisoner countshis days.

How long will it take him to notice? To say something? Although maybe- maybe he’ll explain it away in his head. Or yell. Or scold. Or leave. Or maybe-

Maybe he just won’t care.

“Sorry,” Obi begins, sitting on the edge of the bed. Takingahold of her elbow, he leads the bone of her forearm to lean against his thigh.And he is silent, spreading some sort of minty poultice leaves warmth over all it touches.

“Does that burn?” he asks.

Slowly shaking her head, Kiki replies, “No. It’s justwarm.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Good.”

Riffling through the pack, he pulls out a roll of gauze, unspoolingit before twisting it around her arm. This way and that, smooth and practiced,until her wrist is snugly wrapped.

“Has Shirayuki been giving you lessons?”

He doesn’t flinch at the mention of her name. His faceonly softens in that fond way that has always revealed his deepest secrets.“Not really,” he laughs. “More like I’ve been giving her reason to practice.”

“You should be more careful with yourself,” she tsks, notthat she has any room to judge. It just seems right to say so.

His smile grows more. “You don’t say.”

She watches him work. “You know,” she begins. “You’regood at this.”

He grunts, taping the binding into place. “There we go!”he quips, taping her once on the nose. “That wasn’t too bad, was it?”

Going cross-eyed for a second, she rolls onto her back, andstares at his handiwork.

“When the warmth wears off, you should switch over toicing it, but keep it elevated as much as possible,” Obi says, pulling out the ice pack again toillustrate the point. “I don’t think you’ll need to go to the pharmacy, but ifyou do-”

“You’re not going to say anything about it,are you?”

Obi’s eyes pull wide, mouth dropping into a frown. “Asmuch as I love Miss scolding me, I don’t actively seek it out, no.”

“No,” her lips twitch, before settling once again intosomething more sober. “That’s not- that’s not what I meant.”

“Kiki-jou.” Eyes sliding from her face, Obi lingers atwhat the bandages once again hide. “I’m the last person to judge someone fortheir scars.”

Kiki stares at him, suddenly breathless, and it’s- it’s like the first time she took a punch to the gut. The light headedness. The disorientation and the not-quite pain. How easily he had delivered it, how flawlessly, like he didn’t now hold her darkest secret in the palm of his hand.

“I’m just-“ He coughs, turning to stare at her headboard.“I’m just glad you’re still here. It would have been boring if I never had the chance to meet you.”

“I wasn’t-“ Kiki swallows, searching for her courage andfinding so very little. “I didn’t want to leave,I just-”

He’s staring at her now, and no longer do those eyes lookstrange, something foreign and terrifying like a creature you never would wantto meet in the wood. Instead they look just… curious. Just like she’sexplaining the movement of sword or a formation of an army and it makes iteasy, for once, for her to open her mouth. To give her voice the air and lightneeded to speak it.

“All my life,people have controlled me. My hair. My dress. My posture. Even the cadence and clip of myvoice.” Her throatfeels tight and she wishes he hadn’t taken that water away so quickly. She would like to hide behind it. “Even-even who I was to give my body to, who I was to marry wasn’t mine to choose, not at first. Not until-”

Kiki gestures with her arm, her tongue failing her. Ormaybe her throat just stings too much to allow herself to continue.

“I just- I wanted to be in control. Of just… one thing.”

She represses the urge to flinch when she feels Obi shift onto the mattress, but she jolts when his thumb drags beneath her eye. It pulls back and she’s shocked tosee them come away wet. Just a little.

“Did it work?”

The question gives her pause, more liquid leakingpainlessly from her eyes. “I thought it was, in the beginning,” she admits, surprising herself with her honesty. Tracingthe length of a scar from memory through the gauze, her lips tremble. But thenshe shakes her head. “But no. It didn’t.”

Sighing, Obi pulls himself the rest of the way up and into her bed, propping himselfagainst her headboard. She waits for the longest time for him to speak, andwhen he does, it’s with a level of lightness that she does not expect. 

“I guesswe’re not too different after all,” he says, scratching absently at his chest.

She doesn’t know what to say to that, but one of thoseclever hands of his finds her hair, picking at a gnarl they both earned her in the training yard last night.

“You’re a mess,” he mutters.

Her lips twitch, and her chest is… surprisingly lighter. “My problem seem like less of one whenI look at yours. Or Shirayuki’s,” she says, halfheartedly attempting to bat away his hand.

He bats her back. “Miss would say-“ Obi coughs out a laugh, a wet thingwithout humor. “Miss would say that it doesn’t matter. Our problems are ourproblems. If they’re big to you, then they’re big.”

Kiki looks at him, the softened lines of his face as he bringshis other hand to work on her hair. “That does sound like something she wouldsay.”

Obi peers down at her, his mouth settling into itscustomary grin, and it’s- nice. It’s nice to know that she didn’t ruineverything. “You’re still have to answer for last night, you know.”

Face falling, Kiki swallows a sigh. “Can’t I just blame it on the drinkand be done with it?”

“Kiki-jou,” his voice is thick with censure, tugging alittle harder than necessary on a knot. “I never pegged you for aheart-breaker.”

She smiles, a weary thing. 

If only he knew.