#i don't have an answer for that yet personally. again i still need to mull over it

[imastrangeone98]

Carved Into Time Immemorial

(A/N: I'm back with my bullshit 😄 I've reemerged from the depths of legal hell and I will not hesitate to repeat this again)

Based off of a dream I had, started off as a zombie apocalypse dream but it suddenly changed to a reincarnation au so there's that

Warning: fem!reader, ooc modern!alhaitham who's a simp, reincarnation angst to comfort, just general bad attempt at hurt/comfort fluff

"I'm merely attempting to tell you to stop deluding yourself with your fantasies."

"So you're telling me to screw off, right?" you sniffled, tears running down your soft cheeks. "If you didn't like me, you just had to say that. Why are you being so cruel?"

"It's not being cruel, it's simply being realistic," he retorted with a dismissive wave of his hand. "With my status as the Scribe, the requirements for a romantic partner must be near equal to or higher than my own. And with your low grades, unruly personality, and penchant for idiotic decisions, the answer is quite obvious:

"You don't meet any of my prerequisites."

Alhaitham's eyes crack open, and he blinks at the sunlight peeking through the blinds.

With a grunt, he hoists himself up and stretches with a soft yawn, before rubbing his eyes in exhaustion.

Another dream.

What a shitty way to start the morning. He runs a hand through his hair and ruffles it rather aggressively.

"I need a coffee."

[...]

Never mind. He doesn't want coffee anymore.

Because the new barista taking orders bears a striking, near-identical resemblance to the crying woman in his unnaturally realistic dreams.

But it's too late to back out, because Alhaitham is next in line, and your gentle eyes peer into his own so deeply, he almost doesn't notice the way your hands shake just the slightest at the sight of him.

Despite the brief stutter in his voice, he manages to give you his order, even placing a small tip inside the jar, which he normally doesn't do.

Given the terror in your eyes which you so desperately tried to hide, he feels as though you earned it. That, and the coffee you handed over to him (ignoring the softness of your fingertips when they brushed over his knuckles) is surprisingly delicious- perfectly bitter with a smooth undertaste that the previous baristas could never achieve.

As he heads off to work, he finds himself savoring every sip.

Meanwhile, you're still reeling at the sight of the mysterious, yet familiar man this morning. How could it be possible, that the figure you saw hurting you with words so sharp they could've cut through your skin in your dreams be a living, breathing human being in your reality, especially when said man spoke with such a surprisingly quiet voice?

Could it be possible that we met before? you couldn't help but mull over, before shaking your head resolutely.

It's just a coincidence, nothing more, you try to reassure yourself, returning to grinding coffee beans with diligence. Nothing more, nothing less.

It's not like you're ever going to see him again.

[...]

You ought to smack yourself right in the head, because you end up meeting the familiar stranger- Alhaitham, you recall from the name on the cup- again at the tavern.

Your coworkers had dragged you there against your will, despite your lack of enthusiasm. So you sit at the bar, a mocktail in your hands, watching the other baristas get more and more drunk.

"You're not a fan of alcohol, I presume?"

The sudden voice close to your ear makes you flinch, and it's only thanks to the man's solid chest that he doesn't go tumbling to the ground when you smack him.

"I- I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No need to apologize. You have quite the arm strength."

You flush at the reminder of your actions, as well as how firm his stomach was. You'd slap yourself silly if you weren't in public.

"If that's all, I hope you have a good rest of your night-"

"We've never met before."

You look at him, confused. "I beg your pardon?"

"We've only met once, yet you seem strangely familiar. Like someone from the past," he says. "And from the way you seem to avoid my gaze, would I be correct in presuming that you also view me in a similar light?"

Something within you- almost like an inner voice- whispers at you to not answer his question, to leave and not turn around for a final glance. And it's so unnerving that you're speechless.

"I'll take your silence as an answer." He gazes at you with unbridled curiosity, eyes sparkling in the dim bar light that you can't look away. "If it's agreeable with you, would you be interested in going out for a meal sometime? Perhaps we could compare notes."

You should say no. The voice within you tells you to say no.

But he tilts his head, and somehow, your voice cannot bring itself to vocalize what you should say. So you simply nod, albeit hesitantly. And with a brief exchange of phone numbers, you hurriedly grab your things and ditch your coworkers to rush home.

Alhaitham watches you until the door swings shut, then moves his attention to his phone screen, swiftly typing a message to his newly-made acquaintance.

"I've never seen you so excited about meeting people before," Kaveh chortles with a swig of his wine. "Were you hoping to bring her home tonight? The way she darted away says otherwise."

He rolls his eyes. "Says the one who pulled zero people in the span of the hour we've been sitting in this bar."

"Why, you-!"

"Alhaitham's and Kaveh's love lives aside," Tighnari jumps in and glares at his two friends, "it's about your time to roll, Cyno. We came here because you wanted to play cards, yet here you are, staring at nothing."

Their attention turns to their card-loving friend, who is merely staring at the door.

"...She's a marathon runner," he says simply.

"...What?"

"A marathon runner. Because she's been running laps in Alhaitham's mind."

The men stare at him blankly.

"...Do you not get it? Allow me to explain- Alhaitham has been exceptionally distracted for the past hour-"

Tighnari immediately tries to stop him, leading to an objectively hilarious argument that even has a chase sequence ("Enough with the shitty puns, you pea-brained lummox!"). But Alhaitham isn't laughing.

He stares at his phone, at the little notification indicating a response from you, agreeing to lunch in a few days' time.

He sets about looking for a nice cafe.

[...]

The booths are small in this restaurant, because the two of you pick at your food with your knees practically bumping each other under the table. But the panipuri appetizers are good, so at least you have that silver lining.

He's not particularly chatty, as his answers to your icebreaker questions are short and straightforward. But you sense that it's not out of malice, but simple directness.

At least you learn some things: he works at Sumeru Corporations, he holds a relatively high yet comfortable position, he has a "terrible roommate with no sense of rationality or common sense," and he enjoys a good book at the library. It suits him, you think.

It isn't until your lunches arrive that the conversation turns more serious.

As you nervously take bites of your fish with cream sauce, he asks you a question: "Did you sleep well last night?"

You flinch. The answer is: you did not. The dream prevented you from doing so.

"Dropping out of the Akademiya? I knew you were always foolish, but to think you'd stoop so low as to throw away your future," Alhaitham said, watching you throw away boxes upon boxes of your schoolwork and rejected theses.

"You said so yourself, Grand Scribe," you sighed. You refused to give him any more attention than this; the sting in your heart wouldn't allow it. "I was never meant to be a scholar. This is the best case scenario for everyone involved."

He huffed, and scanned through some of your old papers- papers you spent days, weeks, months on, even. Papers that he would've written in an hour or less. You bit your lip; you refused to give it any more thought, lest the grief in your chest mutate into rage.

"You do realize that some of these could be published, yes?"

You rolled your eyes. "If you're done mocking me, Grand Scribe, you can return to your duties now."

"I'm not mocking you; some of these papers would easily be approved by the Grand Sage-"

"Don't even get me started on that incompetent old fool!" you hissed, and you squeezed the old papers in your hands so hard wrinkles formed. "If that was your attempt to have me stay in the Akademiya- which seems beyond your best interest, mind you- then you did a horrible job. Leave at once!"

"Just listen to-"

"LEAVE!"

"Are you alright? You're crying."

The voice jolts you out of your memory. You jump in your seat, the feeling of a warm finger gently rubbing under your eye further pulling you out of your unexpected funk.

Alhaitham stares at you, leaning away. "My apologies. You just seemed very lost in thought."

You wipe your suddenly wet eyes. Why would you cry over a silly dream? "Sorry; I don't know why I did that. It was just a bad dream I had last night, please don't worry about it."

He hums and stares at you thoughtfully, a cheek rested on his hand. "I suppose now would be a bad time to tell you I also had a dream last night."

You look at him, eyes wide.

"You were leaving some institution called the Akademiya, and I made some attempt to stop you for unknown reasons."

The blood in your veins chilled you; you stare into your plate, appetite gone. He eyes you, swiftly switching his empty plate with yours.

"I admit that I'm not one to be superstitious. But for us to share the same dream cannot merely be a coincidence."

You want to deny it; there's no way some complete stranger happens to share the exact same dream as you! It's just a coincidence!

...But is it really? To both know the words that were spoken between your dream self and his? Could that truly be called a coincidence when it seems like every dream of yours is known by this man?

You stay silent.

Alhaitham takes the time to briefly study your face: the corners of your eyes are etched with laugh lines, your hands are rough and calloused from months- maybe even years- of hard work from your various areas of employment, and even though you're visibly upset, your head still bobs gently to the soft music playing above. You live a different life than he imagined.

He swiftly handles the bill, and when you complain and try to hand him your share of the receipt, he merely says, "If you'd like to repay me, I know a good place that has excellent baklava."

And when his eyes glow and he extends his arm to you, you- against your better judgment- say yes.

[...]

"Y'know, he's been in quite the good mood ever since his date~" Kaveh chuckles at his roommate from the comfort of his cramped desk. "He's finally appreciating all those love lessons I taught him!"

"Sure, if you can even call those lessons," Tighnari laughs at his friend. "More like screaming matches to me."

"I swear to the archons, if you try to mock my teaching skills again, I'll give you a 'love lesson' too!"

"No need, I don't need another one of those."

"What are you talking about, I never gave you one-"

"On the contrary, Alhaitham has been rather cranky at work." Cyno watches his friend typing away at his phone while simultaneously managing his leftover paperwork, oddly determined on finishing the last of his duties before work ended so he could focus his attention on other, "more important things worth my time than slaving away over a desk," as he put it. "He seems very intent on 'throwing a wrench' in all of my proposals for the upcoming case."

"...Not gonna lie, Cyno, that doesn't sound very off-brand from his actual personality," Tighnari says bluntly. "Also, stop with the archon-forsaken puns!"

"No. And correction- he's intent on rejecting my proposals. Setaria's and Zandik's went through without a hitch. And their plans almost never get approved by him."

That fact left the lawyer's two friends utterly confused. While Alhaitham was never an active fan of Cyno, they knew that the former always respected the latter's opinion regarding legal matters. The fact that he is actively avoiding Cyno's advice is... concerning, to say the least.

They all turn towards Alhaitham, who had seemingly paid them no heed, and observe him in silence.

"...If you focused on your duties as fervently as you do your gossip, I'm sure this office would be much better off," said man cuttingly says to his friends.

"I will once you tell me why you're rejecting my proposals," Cyno huffs, arms crossed.

"I would accept them if they were not so riddled with nonsense."

But Alhaitham knows that the words he spills so smoothly are actually directed towards himself. After all, no reasonable man would be doing such ridiculous things as he is solely because of a dream.

...Or perhaps, a distant memory.

"Do you happen to know what flowers she likes, Alhaitham? Perhaps not flowers..."

Alhaitham watched Cyno mumble to himself as the general pored over the selections of bouquets, a strange feeling in his gut. But he rolled his eyes and pointed one out to his friend. "This one."

"Ah, so she likes Sumeru roses. Simple, yet classic and elegant. A fitting flower indeed for a blooming beauty."

It was strange to see the General Mahamatra himself with such a wide, love-struck smile on his face. Everyone around him was placed on edge, including the Grand Scribe himself. But there was no real reason to feel this way. After all, he had long since cut ties with you ever since you left the Akademiya to start up your own food stall, selling fresh chai and charcoal-baked Ajilenakh cakes to eager customers.

But ever since Cyno became interested in getting closer to you, Alhaitham found it more difficult to avoid you. He began inviting you to the tavern for TCG, then to the Grand Bazaar to watch Nilou's latest performance, then to walks around the city at night to stargaze. Soon, you and Cyno were practically inseparable- where one was, the other would most certainly be as well.

It was... odd, to say the least. Alhaitham was always used to your gaze on his back. Now that your eyes had moved elsewhere, the feeling was unusual. He should have felt relieved. Yet all he felt was an unnatural wrongness.

But he said nothing. He gave Cyno his advice, and watched as the general practically sprinted to where you had promised to meet him that night for dinner. He watched until his friend's back disappeared, then returned home, feeling abnormally bitter.

"Don't play dumb, Alhaitham," Cyno says cuttingly, eyes piercing. "You've never approved of Zandik before. So what's really going on with you?"

"I already said my piece. Maybe instead of standing around and blabbering about how your proposal didn't get chosen, your time would be better spent fixing your mistakes."

Alhaitham turns back to his computer, headphones slid over his ears, effectively tuning out Cyno's further complaints in favor of the playlist you sent him a few days ago.

A playlist that you certainly did not give to Cyno.

[...]

"Wow. These are beautiful, but..." You gaze at the bouquet of rainbow roses Alhaitham placed in your hands earlier. "...Where did you get these? They don't look local to Sumeru."

"The florist imported some unique flowers from Fontaine. I thought you'd like these ones."

His eyes fixate on your small, sweet smile as you nod and breathe in their scent. "Yes. I do. Thank you, Alhaitham, that's very sweet of you."

Not as sweet as you, he thinks. But he can save those thoughts for another time. A more appropriate time.

[...]

...He just didn't think that time would be now.

Because you and Cyno are playing TCG. Together. At the same table.

Alhaitham knows he shouldn't feel this way. He was the one who invited you to join him, after all. He knew this could have been a possibility- you're soft and likable, it's only fair that his friends would be drawn to you.

But the look in the lawyer's eyes is unnaturally familiar. And it grates on his nerves.

Because he saw it before. At your wedding. He saw you walk down the aisle, with a smile brighter than he had ever seen grace your lips.

And across from you, Cyno. With hearts in his eyes, he held out his hand for you, and Alhaitham watched as you took it in your own and held his hand close to your heart. And he watched, bitterness on his tongue, as you were whisked away in the general's arms, dancing the night away.

That could have been me. The thought thudded so strongly in his mind he nearly knocked himself over. But he knew he only had himself to blame. And Kaveh was more than eager to rub that fact in his face as he helped his stupidly drunk friend back to their shared home.

"If ya weren't such a... such a hard-ass, maybe she... she would've gone out with you," the architect cackled, the smell of booze so strong it made Alhaitham's nose crinkle in disgust.

Just as it does now, at the sight of the two of you, chumming it up like peas in a pod. Like the two of you were meant to meet.

To fall in love all over again, as you did before.

His hands clench, and the wineglass nearly shatters.

Kaveh eyes him knowingly. "Y'know, if you're gonna be such a hard-ass-"

"Do not." He snaps at the architect, before rising from his seat to march over to you, completely ignoring Kaveh's baffled gasp at the sheer audacity of his junior.

"Alhaitham!" you greet him so cheerily, he almost forgets why he's so upset. Almost. "Come sit with us, we're just about to start a new game!"

"She's quite the talented player," Cyno nods at you. "You should bring her around more often."

"I'm afraid not for a while, as we have somewhere to be." He grabs your wrist and escorts you out of your seat and towards the door, choosing to ignore your confused pout. "I'll see you on Monday."

He doesn't turn back around to Cyno's brief protest, nor to Kaveh's knowing guffaw as the two of you exit the tavern into the cool night air. He breathes in deep, trying to ease the tightness in his chest.

"...Alhaitham?" Your soft voice cuts through the silence, compelling him to turn towards you. "Is something wrong?"

He chews on his lip. "...Do you like him?"

"Who? What are you talking about?"

He sighs; no way could you be this adorably oblivious. "Cyno. Do you like him?"

Your eyes widen briefly, before you rub your chin, deep in contemplation. "He's very friendly, I'll give him that."

He glares at the ground.

"But I don't think I would go out of my way to hang out with him outside of hanging out with you," you laugh, scratching the back of your neck and looking up at him. Your eyes glow in the moonlight, and he's so captivated, his hand reaches out to brush against your cheek.

Your face feels hot, and you're suddenly even more bashful than you already are. But when you try to hide your face, he immediately gets a gentle, yet firm grip on your chin.

"Don't hide," he whispers. He stares at you, a fond look in his eyes. "You don't need to hide from me."

You're once again reminded of how utterly handsome Alhaitham is. And you want to kiss him. So you lean on your tiptoes, face moving towards his-

DON'T.

The voice echoes loud in your mind, and you grab your head in pain with a yelp.

"I'm merely attempting to tell you to stop deluding yourself with your fantasies."

Alhaitham immediately reaches out for you, grasping your chin and tilting your head this way and that. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"With your low grades, unruly personality, and penchant for idiotic decisions, the answer is quite obvious..."

"My- my head..."

"Your head? I'll take you to the Bimarstan, just hang in there-"

"You don't meet any of my prerequisites."

"NO!" You pull away from his touch, like his skin burned you, and turn your back to him. Every cell in your body seems to be screaming: LEAVE. "I- I have to go."

"At least let me walk you home-"

You don't hear any more of him- you can't, not with the voice in your head demanding you to turn your back on him and return home immediately.

You don't see the pain in his eyes as he watches you leave him.

[...]

You don't contact him for a while. His messages go unread.

Alhaitham spends most of his time staring at his phone instead of his papers, waiting for a message that never comes.

"You keep staring at that screen, your eyes are gonna pop out," Kaveh chortles as he sips his coffee. "And then that woman will really never want to see you again."

Alhaitham doesn't reply. He instead thinks back to his last conversation with you: the fear on your face, the tremble in your hands, the shakiness of your voice.

Did he make you uncomfortable? Did he push too far against your boundaries? Did he make you remember too much, too fast?

Did he remind you of something... or someone... you'd rather forget?

"You haven't brought your friend around recently," Cyno comments lightly from his desk. Alhaitham's hands clench. "You should invite her to join us again sometime. I'm looking forward to another rematch."

"I'm just surprised Alhaitham is capable of thinking of someone other than himself," Kaveh scoffs. "This man reeks of haughtiness, what makes you think he's capable of having friends, let alone a love interest?"

"Sounds like somebody's jealous," Tighnari chimes in. "Kaveh's right, by the way; staring at a computer screen doesn't do well for your eyes."

Alhaitham simply mumbles, "Pardon me if my eye health is the least of my concerns at the moment," and continues typing and deleting his message to you, trying for the nth time to make it perfect.

"...I knew it," Kaveh gasps, and he points dramatically at his roommate. "It is because of your lady friend! Let me guess, trouble in paradise? Want your best friend to give you some love tips?"

"That would actually be greatly appreciated."

"I knew that those would come in handy- Wait, what?" It's not just Kaveh who looks at him utterly flabbergasted; Cyno and Tighnari also stare him, dumbfounded at why the ever-rational secretary would want romance advice.

"Since when did you...?"

"Why would such a lovely lady ever want to..."

"I KNEW IT." Kaveh lunges towards Alhaitham, dramatically grabbing him by the collar and vigorously shaking him back and forth. "Ever since that woman showed up, you've been so googly-eyed; it freaked me out for weeks! And here I thought you were physically incapable of feeling love."

Alhaitham rolls his eyes. "Excuse me for wanting to keep my private life private."

Tighnari coughs into his hand, silencing the two men. "Well, since it's not so private anymore, you may as well tell us what's plaguing you."

"The lady lost interest?" Cyno chimes in, resting his head on his hand. "Or perhaps she's being distant. Like an iceberg."

"What does an iceberg have to do with-"

"She hasn't responded to me ever since I tried to kiss her. I'm worried I may have breached her personal space." Alhaitham sighs heavily and rubs the bridge of his nose. "I'm aware that I might have done something wrong, but she won't even let me apologize."

Kaveh simply rolls his eyes. "Then isn't that the solution? Just leave her alone; clearly she no longer wants anything to do with you, for good reason."

Alhaitham grits his teeth. "It's not that simple; she looked like she wanted to reciprocate, but something held her back."

"Well, you're not gonna know what until you ask her yourself," Tighnari says with a shrug. "See if you can meet her. If she gave you her address, go to her house or something. You're just gonna keep asking yourself questions until you go crazy."

"He's plagued with the love bug," Cyno hums thoughtfully. "You should bring flowers. She seems like the type to like Sumeru roses."

Alhaitham's eye twitches. "Actually, she prefers rainbow roses. I'll be off; it's exactly 5 PM."

He swiftly gathers his things and leaves the office, glaring at the piles of unfinished work he's intentionally putting off until the next week. He has much more important things to contemplate than the office goals for the next month.

He needs to find a way to meet you. He has too many things to say, and no way to say them.

What should he do? Should he go to your workplace and see if you're in? Should he be a freak and try to track down your phone? Should he-

Ding~

The soft tinkle of his message tone hits his ears, and he yanks his phone out to look at the screen... and nearly drops the device onto the ground.

Rainbow Rose 🌹: Sorry for not responding. Please come meet me. I'd like to talk to you about some things.

Attached is the address to Puspa Cafe. He immediately starts calculating in his head the fastest way to get there, what to order, what to say to you.

I'm sorry for invading your privacy. I want us to be closer. What can I do to be allowed into your space? How can I prove to you that I'm different from the person in your dreams?

By the time he's finalized what he wants to say, he already sees you through the window of the cafe, sipping on some specialty drink. The setting sunlight frames your face so perfectly, the words he planned fall through his mind and onto the floor beneath him.

But he swallows the rock in his throat and approaches you.

You blink up at him and smile softly. "Alhaitham. Sorry for calling you in such short notice. Please, sit." You gesture down at the seat in front of you.

But he's unnerved; you're polite and distant again, just like how you were when the two of you first met.

He has so many questions, but they all narrow down to the same thing: Were the dreams too much for you? Are you still willing to see him again?

"How is your head?" is all he can manage to ask you.

You nod. "It's alright. Thanks for asking." Then you scratch your head and lower your gaze to the ground. "Alhaitham. I don't think we should meet anymore."

The words don't process in his mind until you're halfway through some spiel. Then his blood turns to ice.

"...Pardon?"

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. "That night, when my head started hurting after we..." Your cheeks flush, and you glare at your cup. "The dreams wouldn't let me sleep. Every one of them involved you, hating me. They're so vivid, I know you and I both know that it's not a coincidence anymore. And I'm worried that-"

Alhaitham stops listening.

You don't want to meet him anymore. Cyno's words echo in his mind: the lady lost interest.

You don't want to see him. He may never see you again.

He's brought out of his mental spiral when you brush your hand against his.

"Alhaitham?" you ask quietly, too softly. Like a hunter speaking soothingly to a dying animal. "You lost focus."

"I..." He's dumbfounded; Alhaitham has never been lost for words, yet now his tongue refuses to move, his lips refuse to speak, glued together with fear and desperation.

You stare at the ground, hair covering your eyes. "...I understand. I'll take my leave. Thank you... for everything. It was..." He sees you bite your lip, a tear slipping down your cheek, and you stand up and leave.

He simply stares at your seat until the doorbell chimes lightly behind you.

He cannot process anything, not with your rejection still echoing in his mind, clouding his senses, your tears polluting his conscious.

...Your tears.

...You were crying.

The cogs in his brain turn once more.

He stands up so abruptly, he knocks his chair back, and throws himself outside the door, sprinting towards you.

And when he calls to you, your shoulders turn.

His heart burns with hope.

"I can't accept that," he pants, grabbing hold of your shoulders and gently turning you towards him. His hold is weak, enough for you to slip through his fingers if you pull away hard enough.

You don't pull away.

"Alhaitham, what are-" you start, but he cradles your face in his hands, staring deep into your eyes, and you fall silent.

"You said we shouldn't meet because of the dreams." His thumbs draw circles onto your soft cheeks, and archons above, he wants to kiss them. "Would it be more accurate to say that you feel that way towards the man in them?"

You blink at him, confused. He nearly coos at how adorable you look.

"What do you think about me? Do you think of me as someone who hates you?"

"No." His heart warms at your instantaneous answer. But it stops at your next sentence. "But my body doesn't feel that way. My head doesn't feel that way. The dreams... You hated me since the moment I..." You freeze, and become stiff in his hold.

But when he rubs your cheeks again, you melt into him, stumbling on your own two feet into his arms. And he cradles you against him, as though if he pressed his body into yours hard enough, the two of you could combine and never be apart.

"...I can't promise you that I won't be like him, the one in your dream...The me of the past," he whispers into your hair. "But I can tell you this now: I am not so foolish as to let you slip from my hands yet again."

Your eyes water with tears; you don't know whether to move closer or move away. Your brain is mush; Alhaitham's cologne fills your nose until all you can see, smell, hear, is Alhaitham.

"He was foolish; he made his choices and regretted them too late. I have already made my choice, and I choose you."

You gasp, just the lightest of breath, and he traces your bottom lip with his thumb.

"I chose you, and I will always choose you. And under no circumstances are you obligated to choose me in return." But he smiles so sweetly at you that tears well up, both in your eyes and his. "But if you choose me, I swear that I will never repeat his mistakes. I will build us a future here, from the ground up, and earn your trust, piece by piece. And I will never let you go again."

Your body flushes hot, urging you to flee his grasp and never return.

He hasn't changed, your mind whispers to you. He is just as cruel, callous, and selfish as ever.

He gently places his forehead on yours, and closes his eyes. "Take as much time as you need," he says. "I will always be here."

"...Will you?" you ask, voice so quiet that it blends into the background.

But Alhaitham hears you. Loud and clear.

He smiles. "Always."

Your body hates you. You should hate yourself, perhaps, for being too weak.

But you melt into his arms, where he encloses you with his warmth and security.

And when your mind tries to overwhelm you, your heart tells it to be silent.

[...]

"It's been awhile."

You scoff, refusing to look at him. Alhaitham chooses to look down below at your respective reincarnations sleeping peacefully. He- the newer him- embraces you tightly in his arms, and you- the newer you- snuggle closer to his warmth.

Alhaitham- the old Alhaitham- smiles. You- the old you- do not.

"Foolish girl," you sigh heavily. "I tried to warn her, yet she never listened. She's only going to fall into the same trap I did."

"...Perhaps she won't," he counters, hovering closer to you. "Perhaps she, and he, are a little more intelligent than we were. Wisdom comes with age... and experience. Something we lacked then." He glances down at them again. "Something they have now."

"Only because of us," you grumble. "And here I am, trying to pass down my wisdom, and she refuses to listen. Is stubbornness just something we're destined to have, I wonder?"

"Perhaps," he chuckles. "And perhaps, she is also building her own wisdom based on her own experiences. As is he." He glances down at his other self. "If he only relied on my memories, he would have never even approached her. He would be a coward like I was, and hold all his feelings in until it's too late."

You say nothing. He smiles softly, and gently touches your hand. When you don't move away, he slowly wraps his arm around you, resting his head on your shoulder, savoring your warmth (or what you have... given you're both spirits).

"Our story has long come to a close," Alhaitham murmurs. "But theirs is different. Let's let them be. Maybe they'll be much different from us."

You grumble in his hold, but don't pull away. "I didn't take you to be the type to make irrational predictions."

"Death does do things to a person's mentality," he muses. "After all, you wouldn't let me touch you like this in life."

You huff, but don't say anything in retort.

And he holds you, just as his counterpart does, until the sun rises and melts the darkness away. Them with it.

--------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: this took way too long to write (thanks law school), also tumblr is a b*stard and wouldn't let me write in my drafts so I had to copy paste everything when it was 3/4 finished 🥲

And yes, this sucks- deal with it XD

[ink30]

Beneath The Surface - Act 1

"Do you truly know what it is to have the Blood of the Dragon, the blood of Old Valyrian?"

Warning: English is not my first language (So I apologize for any misused words), I don't read the books so this is based on my research, and based on the show. Alterations are made because why not. X reader, but if you want me to make an oc version i could do that too.

Act 2

"Who are you? Speak your name!" Rhaenyra demanded, Jacaerys stood beside her, his body tense, ready to spring into action should the young woman in front of them try anything to his mother.

"Y/n, your grace." The young woman spoke, the wind blew through her already loose braid hair — Her hair as white as snow, it could indicate that she has the blood of Targaryen or perhaps Velaryon.

Rhaenyra assessed her, taking in every detail "What do you want? Why have you come here?"

Y/n lips curved into a small smile "Ally is what you need, is it not?" She glanced at the dragons behind Rhaenyra and Jacaerys, "I have heard that you are in quite the predicament."

Rhaenyra was starting to get intrigued and somewhat annoyed by her cryptic response, she spoke like she had knew and seen every outcome of the future "You are suggesting that you want to ally with us?"

"I think it was quite obvious, your grace." She said, she did not seem scared nor intimidated by their presence nor by the dragons. In fact she did not seemed like she was scared of anything seeing as she had been the one to somehow send letters requesting Rhaenyra's presence.

As Y/n took a step closer, Jacaerys narrowed his eyes at her and unsheathed his sword, the dragons behind him growled at her. Rhaenyra raised her hand, gesturing for him to lower his sword — Staring cautiously at Y/n "And what could you possibly offer?" She asked.

"Dragons and more." Y/n answered, her head held high — Confident with herself and her words. A look of surprise crossed both Jacaerys and Rhaenyra's face though it was quickly replaced with skepticism "And where is your dragon?" Jacaerys raised an eyebrow.

As if on cue a dragon roared, its shadow loomed overhead. The ground shook when the dragon descended — The dragon one would dare say as big as Balerion The Black Dread. Its scales were dark blue, navy even. Its wings mighty and big — Eyes so piercing it could make anyone tremble with a look.

Jacaerys tugged his mother arm to back away, he moves to stand in front of her as they stared at it in shocked and fear — Their hearts beating fast. The dragons head lowered in the face of the larger dragon but they didn't back away — Still ready to defend their riders.

"His name is Aragon. He's friendly." Y/n said, Jacaerys was unsure if her tone was meant to assure them or gloat at the dragon she has.

"Why would you offer yourself? What do you wish in exchange?" Rhaenyra asked, her eyes flickered between Aragon and Y/n. She - no everyone had thought that the largest dragon, Balerion was dead but standing in front of her was a dragon just as big — She would be lying if the thought that a person with such dragon wants to ally with her didn't make her hope.

"A reason that is not of importance to you." Y/n said, Rhaenyra eyes narrowed at her — Mulling at her words, if she is loyal this could change the course of everything yet if she is not — All will be lost.

"How do we know we can trust you?" Jacaerys had been the one to spoke up, still guarded and uncertain by her. Y/n paused before smiling again "I suppose you just have to trust my word."

Rhaenyra took a step closer, Jacaerys tugged her back — his gaze filled with a hint of protectiveness and worry. Rhaenyra places her hand over his, giving him an assuring look before gently shrugging his hand off. Jacaerys reluctantly let her go — He still hasn't lowered his guard just in case. Rhaenyra looks at Y/n straight in the eyes, uncertain but determined and fearless "Will you swore to me?" She asked, her tone firm.

"You have my word, your grace." Y/n swore, Rhaenyra searched her eyes for deception and dishonesty but she was hard to read — Almost undreadable. She knew she will have to make a decision "Very well. I welcome you, Y/n." Rhaenyra finally said.

Jacaerys breath hitched, jaw clenching "Are you sure about this, mother?" He asked when Rhaenyra returned to his side, voicing his uncertainty. Rhaenyra exhaled "I'm afraid this is the only choice and chance we have. We'll have to risk it."

After Y/n had been given a room, she was introduced to Daemon who was clearly in displeased "How have you obtained such dragon?" He asked.

"Aragon hatched when I was a girl, we share a strong bond." She replied, eyeing everyone in the room who seemed ready to fight her "I assume this is an interrogation?"

"If you see it that way, yes." Jacaerys said bluntly, earning a look from Rhaenyra "We merely want to know more about you." She said before adding "Your ancestors, any Targaryen?"

"No." Y/n replied, Rhaenyra paused at her words but before anyone could speak, Y/n added "But I do have the blood of Old Valyrian, just like you." Everyone turned confused at her words.

"Pray to tell what that you mean by that?" Daemon raised an eyebrow, his tone almost demanding.

"I am of the last of house Isgur. Like you Targaryens — My house is the surviving house from the doom of Old Valyria." She said with a matter of fact tone. She doesn't seem to come off as overly proud but there was just something about the way she said it.

"Do not mess with us." Jacaerys said, clearly not believing her — He had learn many things and had never heard of another house surviving the doom of Old Valyria. "If what you are saying is true, we would have known by now."

"We have gone into hiding. Unless you have any other explanations on why i have such dragon?" Y/n said, her tone challenging him to retort.

"If he had hatched when you were just a girl, how did he get so big?" Daemon chimed in, his brows raised a little.

"I should be the one to ask why your dragons are so.. small. Though standing here in front of all of you — I know the reason now." She said nonchalantly, but amused. Daemon eyes twitched, clearly annoyed by her.

"You're quite arrogant." He simply said, Y/n hummed — smiling slightly "Confident is the word i would use. I chose Aragon, which is why I'm quite confident in my abilities." She proclaimed.

"Chose Aragon? We don't choose dragons, dragons choose us." Daemon scoffed, finding amusement in her words. Rhaenyra shot him a look when he chuckled.

"No. Dragons choose you. I choose dragons, I control dragons while you're merely someone they bonded with." Y/n said boldly, her face neutral but her lips curved into a small smirk when Daemon and Jacaerys took a step closer out of annoyance. Rhaenyra cleared her throat, stopping them.

"The idea that we control dragons, is an illusion." Jacaerys said pointedly, repeating what his mother had once told him. While dragons serve and listens to them — They are still a being of feelings and mind. They could rebel whether from their instincts or mind. "They are not a pet."

"For you." Y/n replied, "They are not a pet yes, they have a mind and feelings of their own. But i control what Aragon does by the end. He obeys and listens." She didn't back down from Jacaerys piercing gaze and sharp tone.

"How would you do that exactly?" Rhaenyra spoke up, raising her brows in daring.

"You Targaryens preach about you having the blood of Old Valyrian yet you have no clue whatsoever of your ancestors." Y/n said in a way that's almost as if she was mocking them and perhaps in a way she was. She steps closer to them.

"Do you know why you can bond with a dragon? Do you know the heinous things our ancestors did to achieve it?." She stopped and stood in front of Jacaerys who glared at — his eyes unyielding. "Do you truly know what it is to have the Blood of the Dragon, the blood of Old Valyrian?" She said in a low hushed tone, tilting her head.

Y/n looks towards Rhaenyra and Daemon again, "Blood magic is how we manage to gain this bond. I was able to get Aragon this big because of it. You do not practice it anymore hence you don't have full control of your dragons, but I do. And I can."

[naivesilver]

This is NOT a chronological follow up to the last puppet boy ficlet I wrote, that will come later 😊 but you might consider it one of the things that gave Picco some food for thought in that situation 😊

⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓

"I've got a question," Pinocchio speaks up out of nowhere.

August chuckles, patting him fondly on the head. "Sure. Ask away. Those are usually good questions anyway."

He'd thought the boy had already dozed off, in truth - it'd sound miraculous to most that he might be able to fall asleep with a typewriter clacking away not two feet from his head, but he's done it so often by now, it's no longer a surprise. August has long since grown used to writing with a little puppet curled up in his lap, so frequent are these intrusions.

Of course, he's not nearly as productive with such company present, but he doesn't mind all that much. He knows that this Pinocchio, like August himself, like many, too many of their counterparts, has trouble sleeping - if the boy's wandering out to the shed past his bedtime, at least it means he's not hiding his issues, or trying to forget his nightmares alone.

Or keeping his questions to himself, as it goes. "What's a respectable person mean?" Pinocchio asks, after a moment.

August shoots him a quizzical glance, inclining his head in confusion, but it's not easy to decipher the puppet's expression when said puppet is so nestled in his sweater, and it's not like weird questions aren't an everyday occurrence, either. Maybe he's heard the word at school, and was too shy to ask for its meaning then. It wouldn't be the first time. "Well, someone decent, I suppose. With a good reputation. Someone people respect."

"Oh." A beat of careful consideration, and then: "Am I a respectable boy now?"

Weirder and weirder. If this is a question that's been planted in him at school, it's high time August rereads the first grade curriculum. And maybe sends an email or two. "That's not something you should be worrying about," he says, trying to slip some humor into his voice. "That stuff's for old, serious people. It happens after you get boring. You don't need to be respectable just yet."

"Oh," Pinocchio replies once more, but it's clear he's still mulling it over, sinking into thoughtful silence.

August sighs, moving his hand to rest on the boy's back. "What brought this on, kid?"

Mercifully, the answer is prompter than expected. "Well, old Geppetto said he was never gonna make me a respectable boy, but that was when I was naughty, he told me so. I'm going to school now, and I don't run away anymore. So I thought..."

He trails off, but by then the man already has a clear idea of what's going on. Actually, he could have guessed it the moment he heard the words Geppetto said - they never introduce anything pleasant, judging from past experiences.

It's just as well that he has yet to meet the old carpenter, because it would probably end badly for everyone involved, but in times like this he almost wishes he had. Without any visual framework for these bizarre declarations, his brain tends to put them in his own father's mouth, which makes them all the more jarring - August might have avoided him for years out of shame, but he knows this Geppetto would rather cut his hand off than make a small child feel rejected and unwanted.

Would that the boy's maker had been half as careful. There wouldn't be as much damage to fix, that way. "Like I said, being respectable is not what you need to worry about right now," he resumes, rubbing Pinocchio's back again. "It's a grown-up thing, and not all of them manage to get to that point, either. I don't think anyone considers me respectable, for one."

"Why not?"

The innocence of the question almost makes him laugh out loud. If only you knew, little one. "Well, I made plenty of mistakes, and still haven't gotten around to fixing them all. That's just how life goes for some people. It doesn't make them naughty- it just explains why others might not like them very much."

"That's not fair." More than the reply, what makes him look down again is the clear sensation of a little wooden chin digging into his sternum - Pinocchio is staring up at him now, frowning disapprovingly from where he's still sprawling against the man's chest. "I like you."

This time, August does allow himself a little huff, his lips curling into a smile. "Thank you. I like you a lot, too." The look of pure outrage on that child's face is in equal parts touching and hilarious, but he doesn't want Pinocchio to think he's being mocked, not when he finally seems to be relaxing, some of the concern melting off of him - instead, the man abandons all pretense of writing to wrap both arms around him, earning himself a happy little noise as Pinocchio burrows into the hug with his usual enthusiasm.

It can't solve everything, this chat, but maybe it'll be enough for the boy to go to sleep with his mind at ease. Just this once. Just for this one night.

"And for what it's worth, I think you'll be decent enough when you grow up. You're a good kid, no matter what other people say. Nothing else is important, right now."

[passthroughtime]

a kuwagami-related thought i've been mulling over since the start of june, which needs a little preface, so, bear with me a little

it's not that kuwana's and yagami's traumas have affected them the same way, or are even of the one kind. the point kuwana is making, there was a bad thing in their past, and it has changed them irreversibly into the men they are now. (idk, i have seen way too many times how his "we're the same, you and i" line gets interpreted into kuwana being completely delusional about yagami, and if i remember correctly, i've made that same assumption myself, so, no blaming here, been there done that)

kuwana's just trying to appeal to yagami's own experience there, because the latter kinda. treats him like a scumbag he was before, not the person he is now. so, he tells him: there, i'm not the same person, because, as you, i learned from my mistakes. that callout calms yagami's bitchy nature for long enough for kuwana to share his story until the end.

but that's not what i was thinking over, or, not quite that. as they've each had tragedies of their own, where they have played different roles and have had different impact on what eventually happened, their traumas are only the same in the regard of consequences (= putting an innocent person into the most life-threatening situation possible, and how they'll always feel guilty about it though it wasn't their fault exclusively). but that's the main problem when comparing their means of redemption.

yagami's approach to life/investigations/etc is now reactionary. the "i will act if no one else will" kind. some may argue that he tries to prevent things and that's why he gets involved, but... bear with me here.

as emi's fate was something he could have never anticipated, and he did exactly what was expected of him at the moment, his regret is about not delving further until the truth is uncovered. that means, something must happen before for him to get involved (something like waku's death), and so, he gets involved now in the things that doesn't concern him, and stays there till the end, never stopping before all questions are answered and all truths are found out. that's what i mean by saying he reacts rather than prevents.

his fault in emi's death is of not doing enough, or anything, though he didn't have to do more than he did. he was a lawyer. he did his job. that's all he was supposed to be.

while kuwana's approach now is preventive in a sense that he won't do anything that will put anyone in danger. his main goal in all his killings, is to say "hey, there are consequences to your shitty actions, don't do it, at all" though he's been stupid about his means (how would anyone know about his "lesson" if the bodies and his motives have been a secret to others? idk), but whatever. yet, his main focus is to not endanger someone on his own volition. again, let me explain myself here.

mitsuru's suicide attempt is more of kuwana's fault than emi's death of yagami's. that's obvious. but you know the main difference here? he knew about the bullying. he COULD do something about it. that's what made him directly responsible while not being an actual perpetrator. more than yagami in his case, at least.

kuwana's fault is also, as yagami's, in not doing enough/anything, but, unlike yagami, he had the means to stop the tragedy before it had happened. he knew of the risks. so now, knowing there are consequences of each action and inaction he takes, he makes sure whatever he does won't put anyone in danger. (that's a funny take from me, because for the most of the game, yagami argues that kuwana doesn't care about that, but we all know he realises he was wrong about him, eventually.)

yagami and his friends? stop investigating mikoshiba's case (and later sawa's murder), you'll only put yourselves in danger. his former students? no, you don't have to kill anyone, you can even state that i made you help me under duress (nah, i'll still stand with that their cowardice and kuwana acting as a psychopath with them were the only reasons why they haven't gone to the police, though they totally could and had the chance to get away with everything much earlier. kuwana played into their weaknesses if anything). sawa? yeah, the entire thing at plage is a message for her to stay away, how kuwana admits himself.

he feels guilty about RK attacking liumang's hideout because of him. he makes up for leaving yagami alone before, near sawa's apartment, and doesn't do the same mistake when soma finds them, against all odds (he and yagami did everything to not be discovered, kuwana made sure of that), on the boat. he runs as soon as possible when sawa calls him, though it kinda does sound like a trap even at that point; he just doesn't think about anything when he hears her crying (that one is a stretch a bit but. let me have this.). he agrees to meeting yagami in kamurocho when he kidnaps mamiya so he'd let her go (though, leaving his students as a distraction to get away from yagami is a dick move, no arguing here).

the point is, he doesn't want to cause any more harm. that's why kusumoto surrendering herself to the police is so tragic for him and breaks him so bad: he did the thing again. if not for him and his feeling of utter loneliness in his pain, she would've lived a happy life with her child. he doesn't want to admit it, doesn't want her to answer for his mistake, so he says it wasn't a mistake at all. again, kind of shitty, but, the whole thing he has going on is shitty, so here's that.

it's "i will act if no one else will" vs "i make sure i never create a situation endangering other people". the first one is self-destructive, the second one is self-deluding. perfect.

and i've been thinking that it's kind of interesting how they collide here, yagami getting involved even at the cost of his life vs kuwana who doesn't really want someone else to get hurt. that's all their running and chasing, and the reasons behind it, summarised. they both are stubborn, because they don't want to do the same mistake they did in the past, and they clash over it badly, convinced they are the one who does the right thing. it sucks because they are both right here, lol, in the end. or, rather, there isn't really a right answer of what one should do here. or something.

and the other unrelated funny thing that my friend who played JE and LJ for the first time pointed out is that kitakata did the same thing that yagami does at the start of the game: recording the bullying before he decides how to act appropriately. the difference is, yagami is someone from the outside and isn't really accustomised seeing this behaviour on the daily basis, and seeing how sawa acts (or, rather, doesn't) about the bullying (quoting her words: "i knew something was off but i didn't expect this", so, yeah), teachers stop seeing all the little signs as a threat big enough to act immediately. a part of the job, ignoring little signs is a means against burnout, or something like that.

kitakata has a concerned student nudging him to look closer (and he does). sawa has a help from outside, never intending to act before she saw the recording (and she is instantly involved into helping here). yagami does his job, the only task he was instructed to do here, and at a perfect moment (he is a complete outsider and doesn't see high school drama happening daily).

kitakata isn't that lucky, when sawa and yagami do the same job that kitakata does on his own. so, all three situations are completely different, and no one here is the biggest asshole, though all three of them can paint kitakata as one.

[diamond-dangeresque]

The crystals pulse with energy even after its creator long moved south. Echoes of the climactic battle hang in the air alongside draconic electricity. There is a tension, a trepidation, to the scene as Chihiro arrives atop a small floating platform of Brandcrystal, hopping off of his rotund cuckoo and looking upon the carnage. Sheathed at his side, Bolt crackles with lightning in its brassy edges, threatening to lift itself out and dance on the sun rays. Chihiro rests a hand on the handle, the other hand grabbing his cape to shake any clinging dust or crystalline shards clinging to the frayed hem. He doesn't need to lift his blindfold to see the remains far below, in fact hasn't needed to see with it off in a long time.

"Behold," he hears the voice of Glint in his mind, bountiful with regrets and remorse, "my last stand...and what remains of it."

Chihiro looks on in silence. His minds-eye vision reveals draco-energy swirling from the impact zone far below, rising upwards and out through the air, reverberating into the Brandcrystal and back out. He can almost hear the ghosts of this combat: swords and arrows and magical blasts hitting rock-solid crystal, bodies flung onto sand, a machine whirring to life as a sandstorm howls for the blood of these unknown combatants.

"I knew," Glint continued, "for a very long time that I was to die. In the maw of my own father. On the grounds where I called home. Dying in vain trying to strike back against a living maelstrom."

Finally, Chihiro finds his voice and speaks up: "How did it feel?" A beat. "When the death blow came."

He could feel the Dragon mull over that question. Could feel her retreat from his mental presence. And then Glint returned, as solemn as when she first spoke up. "A sharp spike of pain, and then disappointment," was her answer.

"At what?" Chihiro kept his gaze towards the epicenter of this scene of draconic violence. He can see, with some further focusing, the fuzzy outlines of a combat long past: a Charr, a Norn, a Sylvari, two Asura (one smaller with a golem, the other with a pained gait to their walk as they guided complicated and multi-limbed machinery with them), and a large dragon. The dragon-silhouette fights valiantly at first, but waves and waves of Branded slowly choke out any hope of victory for this lone group.

There's more silence from Glint until she breaks it, the first time the Herald had ever heard the Dragon's voice falter: "I had hoped fate would change. That my visions were not so immutable." He can hear Glint snort. "That I would have the privilege to see my child grow with me."

He thinks back to Aurene. He thinks on how she was going to grow to that size one day. She already has her mother's coloration, her second "uncle's" flat snout and swirled cheeks, her first "uncle's" voracious appetite and sharp teeth . (He wonders what she'd inherit from her "grandfather".) And he thinks to himself, 'Her own mother died fighting Kralkatorrik at the prime of her life. How the hell is she ready?''

"It was a foolish notion in the end," Glint says, perhaps more to herself than to her Herald.

"I don't know," Chihiro muses, "I mean...this whole me-being-the-Hero plans hinges on changing fate, doesn't it? I'm alive 'cause of you, ain't I? When I shoulda been at the bottom of Lake Doric."

"Your obligation to the role of Hero is why you live still. Why reality hasn't yet torn you asunder."

"And here I thought my swell personality was keeping reality from turning me into Mists-shreds," Chihiro says with his usual please-relax jokey tone, trying his balance to offset his patron's exhaustion from having to explain this point again, grabs from his pack a bundle of bamboo and rope and cloth that pops open into a glider with the ease of an umbrella. Gotta love those crafty Zephyrites. "Well, Aurene knows you're there with her all the way. Comforts her, even."

Glint sighs. "Your attempts at soothing my woes are...not unappreciated."

Jeez, this dragon and her insistence on flowery language... "Uh, you're welcome?"

"Let us move on," Glint says, her façade of calm calculation returning to her voice, "we shouldn't leave your teammates waiting to meet a god."

[pierrai]

Difficulties of being in a relationship with your OCs! What are some things about them that their partner might see as their bad side or something they don't particularly like?

Hello anon! Thank you very much for your request! I'm writing something short tonight (I think! I write the A/Ns before the imagine so I'm hoping it isn't over 1.5K!) because I'm a bit tired and my health is failing, but I hope you enjoy! I included Peri and Florin too because I like them and want to write a bit about them! Hope you don't mind!!

Character: Multiple Word Count: 2526 Scenario: Difficulties of being the S/O of OCs Warnings: Unhealthy relationship dynamic, mentions of death, abuse, alcoholism

For Mira, his most glaring negative aspect is easy to guess. He is, of course, cursed, and so being his partner will naturally come with the heavy downside of hoping he doesn't accidentally (or purposefully) kill you one day along with the rest of humanity.

More subtly however, Mira's downsides range from something as basic as his simple mindedness, to the more complicated existential crisis he's always mulling over.

He is, somehow, both dense and attentive. He can pick up on some emotions yet completely miss others. Sometimes he just needs things explaining to him a couple of times before he's sure he's understood it, so if you're someone with little patience, he's likely to grate on your nerves occasionally.

He is also an indecisiveness people-pleaser. If you want him to make a decision on something, he's more likely to awkwardly smile and ask what you think rather than just giving you the answer he'd actually choose.

Above all, Mira just wants to be liked, and for as long as he can remember, he's done his best to achieve this want. This can likely make him seem easily swayed at best or two-faced at worst, and maybe someone with a firmer sense of identity might become irritated at someone who is always subtly trying to stay liked rather than being themselves.

Eliot, again, has obvious flaws, though his are definitely centred around his personality in a more severe way than Mira rather than anything world-destroying. Not many people like Eliot as a friend, let alone as a partner, and if he is your partner, you're in for an even more burdensome task.

Eliot's insistence that he's a god can already be difficult to handle as is. He's incredibly narcissistic and seems to think the world should revolve around him and do as he pleases, and that includes you.

Even if you could read his mind and know his every desire, he's still likely to get upset at you for one thing or another. Even if he really likes you, that doesn't bar you from his haughtiness, which can become quite annoying if it's something you're likely to always take too seriously.

On top of that, Eliot's past has given him abandonment issues that definitely push past the barrier of severe. This combined with his pre-existing god complex means he can become incredibly possessive and controlling, wanting to keep you in place so that you never leave and believing he is entirely within his godly right to do so.

It's difficult to break through to the more vulnerable and caring side of him without bringing a hammer down on the fragile glass of his ego too. For some partners, the reward of Eliot's undying loyalty just isn't worth the trouble.

Someone reserved like Nen doesn't have any outwardly problematic issues. In fact he's very intent on avoiding most people, both out of fear and introversion.

He's not particularly outgoing or adventurous however, and is often just downright moody. Sometimes it might feel like he's actively trying to keep himself trapped in his misery rather than wanting to cheer up, which might be annoying for someone impatient enough not to see why he might be doing that.

If the person he finds himself with is someone who needs a lot of verbal communication, then Nen simply wouldn't be able to fit that role. He'd prefer listening rather than butting in with his own thoughts; he's perfectly fine sitting patiently while someone else prattles on so he can be relieved of the burden of carrying on the conversation himself. It's just not his way.

If his partner can handle his muted responses and not find themselves discouraged into thinking he's bored or disinterested, then he's perfectly happy as well.

Being a demon should be enough of a difficulty in a relationship with Haine.

Regardless of the circumstance under which you enter a relationship with him, he's spent near half a millennium hunting people down and pushing them towards their demise so he can devour what's left, and so being with him romantically is bound to present a plethora of issues.

He's almost definitely made you suffer in some way. If Haine ever had the inkling that he liked someone, he'd seek to sabotage those feeling immediately, convincing himself that he simply feels hatred instead all while he eggs himself into hurting you more and more to confirm that. Getting him to finally admit that he loves you would result in enough trauma that perhaps you won't feel the same by the end.

But if you do, and if you decide you can forgive him and stay with him despite what he's done, it still won't be very easy. It's hard to teach an old dog new tricks, and Haine is no different; he's so stuck in his ways that getting him to accept that he doesn't have to have it out for everyone will take time.

Haine's bad side is simply that he's lived a life of cruelty for far too long, and it's easy for him to go back to it when he's feeling lost. Whether that cruelty is regrettably directed towards you or other people, it's bad nonetheless.

Jun may be one of those character where being called 'too nice' or 'too giving' isn't a way of bragging about having no downsides, and instead actually is a downside.

There really isn't much to complain about when it comes to Jun on a surface level, and even if you get closer to him to the point of being in a relationship, the positive still vastly outweigh the negatives, but that doesn't mean the negatives aren't there.

Jun really is too giving, in a way that probably ends up jeopardising not only his own wellbeing, but the wellbeing of anyone who decides to become invested in him as a person.

Really what he needs is for someone to tell him that he simply can't be expected to solve everyone's problems just to satisfy some past regrets of his. Sometimes his constant 'do-good' ethos can be more frustrating than it is helpful to those who actually care about him.

Being in a relationship means you've broken through his near-impenetrable walls, but it doesn't mean you've stopped him from slowly building them back up.

For someone who's always so eager to hear about your issues, he's always quick to downplay or downright ignore his own, even if you insist that he's not burdening you in the slightest. To avoid the relationship being incredibly one-sided when it comes to talking issues through, it might feel like you need to force him at times to simply say what's bothering him. It's not a dealbreaker, but it's certainly a running theme in the relationship.

In the noble society he lives in, there aren't many who would see Oliver as a suitable marriage candidate, but even if he were amongst the common people, he likely would have difficulty finding love as well. His childhood was marred with difficulties that carried on to his adult life, so he's not the most cheerful person to be around. He often decides it's better to drown his sorrows in booze rather than work through them.

Since he was paid little attention as a child, Oliver has never properly learnt to regulate his emotions properly. He is easily upset and angered and lashes out more easily when with people he's closer to. It's only the purposeful distance he keeps from others that keeps his impulsivity in check, but if he were to actually like someone, he'd find it difficult not to be selfish with them.

His reliance on alcohol to not only vent out his sorrows whilst drunk, but also forget them come his morning hangover probably wouldn't be easy to handle. Oliver is quite depressed and oftentimes won't listen to reason. If you're the upbeat type, he's likely to just rain on your parade with his pessimism. He's also filled with insecurities, meaning he'll end up insulting not only himself but probably also you when he feels like he's being picked apart. Over all, he just needs a lot of emotional care and delicacy, which may be a bit too much for some.

Damien is what many would label a 'psychopath' if they were to know his true nature, though he would contest this. With that title alone, it should be obvious what difficulties would come with being his partner. If you've gotten close enough to him where he actively wants you to be his partner, you've gotten close enough for him to reveal every part of himself to you.

Damien cares little about secrets in a relationship. He's willing to be an open book (perhaps a little too open) and spill all of his feelings. Sometimes, it might feel like he's rambling, actively describing how he feels in the moment as if he and you are both specimens he needs to examine. He loves gaining new knowledge, and this pursuit of knowledge extends to understand love and affection too. He isn't afraid to push the boundaries on his version of love and see where it leads him, and neither is he afraid to push you in oftentimes cruel ways to see how you tick as well.

His love is simply overwhelming. Unless you're the type to feel comfortable under his sick and twisted depths, you'll end up drowning instead. Damien has plenty of love to give and plenty of ways to show it, but not all these ways are fun or loving (again, he begs to differ), so for a weak-willed partner, his 'bad side' would often be apparent and all the more inescapable.

Though seemingly smooth and charismatic, Alastor would make for a far more difficult lover than one might think. He's selfish, egotistical and greedy. He wants the world to pay attention to him, and you even more so. He'll have a lot of hypocritical 'one for thee, another for me' rules that you're bound to grow frustrated with, and unless Al is worn down to complete loyalty, he'll mostly treat you as expendable.

Al can become easily jealous if you treat him the same way he treats you and will make this known. He's not above threats and manipulation, so even if you're as sly as he is, he'll somehow find a way to trump that.

Even in love, he must compete and constantly prove his worth. It's hard to get him to fully focus on having a partner and doing what's best for you when there are other tempting things out there for him to set his sights on.

You would have to work around or simply get used to not always being Al's number one priority, while also being expected to hold him as yours.

Orion, despite having a cold exterior, is actually well-liked by noble ladies and lords. Being both capable and from a wealthy and powerful family, there is little reason to not want to be his partner. But, this is only the perspective of most nobles who have both their family's shallow interests at the forefront of their mind. For a normal person, a man from a wealthy family who values noble traditions might not be ideal.

Orion is actually somewhat of an outlier in his family when it comes to upholding tradition, likely thanks to his experiences with Alastor, but although he doesn't value the family legacy as much as his parents and can see when placing it before his family's actual well-being is harmful, he values it enough to turn a blind eye when taking action might jeopardise his position.

Orion is dedicated above all to his work in making sure he lives up to his parents expectations. The main issue with being his partner is that it will often feel like he's cheating on you with his position. He's married to work more than any one person, and the time he spends working long nights and early mornings means he'll often leave you to your own devices.

He is somewhat of a coward, keeping up his persona as a dutiful noble lord rather than allowing himself any sort of pleasure, selfish or not, which also ends up being less selfish on his part when it harms those he's close to.

Being Peri's partner requires, on some level, for you to be abnormal. There's a particular sort of resilience you need to withstand someone like Peri, not because he's intentionally evil, but because traits of his race and his upbringing have made him provocative towards humans.

Peri can seem both dense and very perceptive. He'll poke and prod until he's gotten a reaction that entertains him and enjoy figuring out why he got one such as that and how he might be able to get it again. Then, he'll conveniently forget information and suddenly remember it later when it'll hit the hardest. As his race is one that cares little for grievances commit towards each other (they see this mischief as fun more than anything) Peri is much the same.

He isn't the type to harm others out of some sadistic want nor do anything extreme; his decades living amongst humans has at least given him some social grace and empathy, and he's hardly about to kill or maim anyone) but he is very casual about matters that other would handle with more tact. He'll easily be the bystander who lets atrocities happen. He is eccentric and needs someone able to withstand him or simply keep up with him. You would also have to reconcile with the fact that Peri, who's lifespan is a lot longer, will love you closer to the way a human loves their pets than a person loves their partner.

Though a prince, Florin doesn't have the fairy tale disposition of one. He is obsessed with wealth and flaunts his money and status whenever he can. He is very loose with himself and those he cares about, often not even seeing why what he's saying or doing might be flat out insensitive or ignorant. He is simply a man with a ridiculously extravagant amount of wealth and privilege, and his personality reflects this.

It would be hard for any partner to get close to liking Florin, but especially if you've ever suffered any sort of hardship. Florin is someone who's never had to struggle for anything and has had everything handed to him on a silver platter. He'll make fun of those unfortunate enough to be poor and mock them for not being born the way he was. He'll also have absolutely no clue why doing so might make people mad. He thinks that, especially with you, if he just throws money at whatever problem he's caused, it'll solve itself. Money always made him happy after all.

He expects you to do as he wants much like the servants that trail him around. He won't mind if you don't (he might even be amused, but being the subject of Florin's amusement isn't much better) and doesn't lash out like some nobles do when they can't get their way (he's more likely to playfully whine) but being expected to be as his beck and call is bad enough to begin with.

[uselessboss]

Ente & Vivre's Story (Chapter 1)

‘What do you have to say for yourself?’

Move… Move stupid body!

‘ANSWER ME ODEL!’

She's going to kill him if you don't do anything. Is that what you want?

It was so hard to move. She was pinned to the ground, frozen stiff by the waves of malice and pressure exerted by the blood curling hatred emanating from the woman on the other side of the room. A fierce beast who sustained her older brother by his neck, her grip strong, nails digging in, blood dripping to his battered clothes- A state that was wholly her doing as she had given him a merciless beating earlier.

Why? Why? Why?

Why was she doing this? Her brother was a gentle and caring soul, he was her hero- A hero for many others. He worked so hard to protect everyone so why is he going through this? What did he do to deserve this? Why?

And why was the woman his brother always spoke so highly of, the one he swore his loyalty for, who he had always talked about with adoring fondness, respect and pride doing this to him? Trying to take his life with a vindictiveness of a demon?

She didn't understand. She couldn't understand. There was no time to think, she needed to protect her brother!

A weapon. Something, anything! There was no time!

The fire poker.

Her small hand reached for it. After a bit of a struggle she got up. The dim light from her eyes flickered as she tried her best to power herself up with her spiritual power but she still wasn’t very good at controlling it yet. Nevertheless, she hoped, she prayed. It had to work.

Gathering all her courage and power she stabbed the woman's back.

But it wasn't the woman she struck. It was her brother- Laying on the floor, bleeding profusely, the fire poker deeply embedded on his chest, his clothes getting darker and darker as his blood soaked everything…

“AH!” Vivre gasped.

She hugged herself as her body trembled, breathing haggard and erratic as she struggled to get air in through her lungs, through her chest- It felt taut and compressed, like it was being squeezed tight, like her brother's neck in her dream.

She felt sick.

“What time is it?”

02:00 A.M, her clock helpfully supplied.

“Only 2 hours of sleep this time huh?” She rubbed her eyes before flinching at the sensitivity of her skin. Had she also been crying on her sleep again? “Why today of all days? When my body needs to be in the best condition possible…”

Should she take a sleeping pill?

She shook her head.

No. Even if she forced her body to rest her mind and spirit would run the risk of collapsing. She was at her limit as it was.

Every single year, every single month, every single day she was tortured with those horrible nightmares. Her heart grew weak and weary, empty and cold, beating only out of obligation, moving only because it couldn't allow her to cease- At least not yet, not when she still have a promise to fulfill.

“Destroy it. The proof that woman ever existed.” She heard HIS voice whisper in her ear. Or was it in her mind? She didn't know, it was of no importance to even mull over. The only thing that should matter was that to her, it felt real. “I can't rest until it's all gone. My memories, our moments together, everything related to her, everything that reminds me of her"

“I will. Don't worry. I finally found him. Everything… Everything will be over soon"

Ente Miller. Son of Grimoire Miller, Euryale's adopted daughter.

Grimoire Miller…

Even if they lacked direct blood relation it was undeniable that Euryale considered Grimoire her family, her kin and what was the most important and dear person to her in the whole world.

Which is why it stood for reason to be her to answer for her mother's sin.

Family for family. Blood for blood. That's how it was supposed to be and yet it was impossible to do so as Grimoire was no longer in this world.

She didn't know why, or what fell her, there was no documented or registered records detailing the reason behind her demise, only a blank and scarce page stating her deceased status.

“So that only leaves her son to answer for their sins"

It took her a while to localize him. Even with the power and resources from the organization. If it was anyone else it would have been a child's play to pull off, but Grimoire's son was a different case- He, and he alone enjoyed the protection of the most terrifying guardians of the human and supernatural realm.

Faust Miller, the holder of the strongest spiritual power among mankind.

The Demon of Unravel, the immortal entity whose existence defies the logic of life and death.

At first Faust opted for misdirection to protect his son. By using Unravel's power to take him anywhere he acted as a decoy, being sighted everywhere around the globe, doing odd jobs under several identities, making it almost impossible to determine his real settlement.

It was a stalemate. The relentless pursuers vs the elusive chased. A change was required to happen, to tip the scales, to break the status quo from going any further and Faust had decided to be the one to take this first step.

She didn't see it with her own eyes as she was still too young at the time to walk inside the walls of the HQ but she heard the stories about what transpired.

One day Faust appeared without notice at territory of his enemy.

He was surprisingly calm and composed. Despite him and his family being hunted for so long, despite being at the heart of the lion' den he didn't act like he was a prey nor a predator either. In fact, they couldn't detect any hostility or threat coming from him.

'To those who wish harm upon my son, upon Grimoire’s son, come forth' Faust spoke, voice as idyllic as the waves that washed the shores of a sunny and peaceful beach 'There's something I have to show you'

'It was at that moment that we all understood something' One of the people who was there at the time confided her. 'That even if we joined our forces together it still wouldn't have been enough to match him. It was no wonder there was no hostility coming from that man, there was no reason for that, we didn't even register as a threat to him. It was nothing but a fool's errand from the start'

All the stories she had heard have been the same.

Ever since then all efforts to pursue Faust and his family had ceased. It was clear that the man just wanted to be left alone and as he and his demon charge didn't show any signs of pursuing activities that would endanger human life the organization deemed it to be a waste of time and resources to endorse any new attempts or, at the very least, considered it a matter of low priority.

"But now a chance finally appeared" Vivre muttered as she reviewed the information she gathered through the years. If she wasn't going to get any sleep anyway then might as well use the time to go over her preparations again."With no one pursuing him after all these years Faust finally dropped his guard. With his son no longer being under his constant surveillance I might get a shot at accomplishing my mission"

It's time to end the nightmares.

=0=0=

According to her intel Ente Miller worked at a small daycare run by himself which was open from 06:00 A.M to 08:00 p.m (or even later depending on the time the parents picked up their kids). He was very loved by his peers and very popular with the single mothers and fathers(?)

(That last bit of information wasn't something she actively sought out. For one reason or another folks sure liked to share things that she never asked for and would rather be better off not knowing too)

"Do you see her?" A man's voice spoke out.

Vivre quickly leaped to hide under the thick foliage of a nearby tree.

Had she been found out? Her heartbeat beat loudly in her chest. She thought that she did a good job at masking her presence and emotions but had she slipped out?

"Still not…" A much younger voice of a girl answered.

"Don't worry, your mom will be here soon"

Oh so they were waiting for the child's mother.

"You are putting a good fight against Mr. Sandman" the man chuckled as he sat with the child on the small steps leading to the entrance of the building "Here, a hot chocolate for my little warrior"

'Are you waiting for our parents Vivre?'

The scene reminded her of the time she would wait for her parents to get home from their mission. Her brother would stay with her, keep her company- Reading books, playing with her or brewing a mug of hot chocolate. He did his best to make time for her and ensure that she never felt alone while he was around to make up for how busy their parents were. Love was something she never lacked while under his care.

How curious… To suddenly remember that after all this time. She dreamt so often about the day her brother died that she almost forgot her other memories of him. Of his kind and soft expressions, of a him not covered in blood, of his touch, not cold as death, but warm and caring.

How did he sneak up behind her?

She quickly jumped back to the floor, to a more stable footing and facing him so she wouldn't be ambushed again.

"You've been hanging around for a good while, do you have any business here?" Ente inquired as he also landed on the floor.

So he had noticed her after all.

"I can't sense anyone else inside the building. Did the kid already go home?" He must have waited until she did to confront her.

"... Or am I your target perhaps?"

She launched herself forward. First by acting as if she was going for a full body slam only to change her tragectory mid-attack to aim for his feet. Ente readied himself, doing a quick side step at the last second and then doing a kick of his own, trying to take advantage of her still being locked in the momentum of her attack.

But she wasn't going to allow to get a hit in so easily.

She hits the floor with her hand, springing up her body in an upside down position as she avoids his kick, using the new momentum to lock his head between her legs and then throw him forward.

Ente rolls in the air with the dexterity of a cat as his feet hits the tree on his path, using the chance to now launch an attack of his own, doing a series of slashing movements with his arm, an strong razor wind attack powered by his spiritual power, which forced her to do the same, the clash blowing everything around them in a violent gust of wind as he quickly closed in, using the briefest of the moments her guard was down after a strong parry to grip her by the waist and then thrownbher diagonally towards the floor- She would have eaten dirt had his maneuver succeded, however she curled herself up like a ball to waste the kinectic energy until it was safe to brake herself, using this opportunity to also put a distance between them.

She underestimated him.

She thought that only Faust would have posed as a threat but it seemed that Ente received a training of his own.

"However that doesn't explain how he's able to match up with me. Not only I went through an extensive combat training from the organization but I also had to do several missions fighting real dangers. I should have the upper hand in experience here"

Then again his father went through millenniums upon millenniums of battles over any know human so maybe that was why he was able to close the gap?

"...Hey" Ente spoke after a long moment of silence between them.

She quickly put herself in combat stance, readying herself for a new attack.

However it never came.

Instead Ente kept staring at her with a troubled and concerned(?) expression on his face.

"Are you ok?" he spoke after another pause.

"What?" Vivre furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

What was he trying to pull now?

"Your movements are off"

"Excuse me?"

She felt her blood boil.

Was he mocking her?

She wanted to avoid property damage to her surroundings if she could help it but apparently for someone of his "caliber" it seemed that holding back wasn't an option.

She planted her feet on the ground and tightened her fist.

How would he be able to handle an attack fully charged with spiritual power?

But before she could take another step Ente appeared behind her.

Stomach. Chin. Back of the neck. Strikes so fast and precise that felt almost simultaneous.

She couldn't register anything else as her consciouness faded out.

Hours earlier~

"Let's wait for your mom together alright?"

"Ok" the small girl nodded, rubbing her eyes as she rested her head on his side, her already drank mug sitting right next to her.

Ente briefly smiled as he patted the child's head, listening to her low breaths to confirm that she had fallen asleep before changing for a protective hold on her.

"No movement yet"

Earlier on he had sensed someone there so he went to check the front door, thinking it could be the little girl's mother, but having found no one he grew suspicious so he put a carefree act to not alert the intruder of his knowledge of their presence.

"Could that be a burglar? It has been dangerous these last days and it's rather late"

It wouldn't have been the first time this has happened albeit it had been quite awhile since the last incident. Wrongdoers had learned by now to not try any funny business while he was around.

Whoever it was they weren't moving from their spot but he could never be fully sure. He had to wait until the kid's mother arrived to pick her up and keep watch over their next movement, if they tried anything he would put a stop to their plans right away.

"I'm sorry for being late!" A woman ran out of her car out of breath. "I apologize for not being able to be here earlier so many days in a row"

"It's alright ma'am, I understand" he shook his head. "My father raised me by himself so I know how hard it is. Pay it no mind"

"Still, thank you Mr. Ente. We are truly blessed to have your daycare and you around. My daughter smiles much more ever since I enrolled her here"

"Nothing makes me happier than hearing that" He smiled as he gently scooped the girl to place her in her mother's arms. "It's quite late as you said so please take care"

"It's ok. Ever since you came here this neighborhood became much safer" the woman chuckled.

"Still, can never be careful enough"

"You are right. Don't worry, I will be mindful of my surroundings"

"Good. Then have a good night and a nice weekend ma'am"

"You too Mr. Ente. See you Monday!"

He waved off until the car disappeared from his sights.

Still no movement huh?

"I guess it's better if I check who it is myself"

Being careful to mask his emotions he sneaked close to the walls and under the shade of the trees, making sure to walk as light as possible to avoid alerting the intruder.

He found them sitting on top of a tree branch which provided a direct view to the front of the daycare.

It was a woman of a seemingly age similar as his. Pale and pearly pink skin and a light hair neatly tied in a way that made him think of a flower. She was undeniably pretty but in melancholic beauty kind of way, fleeting like a mirage that would disappear if you were ever to touch her.

She must have been lost in her thoughts. Probably reminiscing something of her past as she didn't even seem to notice his approach.

"She has green eyes huh?" he took note.

A muddy and dull color, like crushed leaves.

Somehow that struck as not quite right to him.

He didn't know why but that was the impression that he got. That it wasn't its true colors.

"An emerald green perhaps?"

That seemed to fit much better. A vibrant, lively color, rich and deep. A gemstone that stood the most among others no matter what was paired to it- Emeralds, the precious stones that had a way to draw and hold your attention to it. The lady of gems.

He waved off his imaginary bubble thoughts.

He sure had a knack for going on weird tangents at times.

"Who are you?" he spoke at last.

He quickly blocked a kick to his face for his troubles.

The woman clearly wasn't amused by being sneaked from behind as she jumped backwards towards the floor, facing him without allowing him to leave her sight.

"You've been hanging around for a good while, do you have any business here?"

No answer.

A dim glow flickered in her eyes.

Spiritual power.

"... Or am I your target perhaps?"

She launched an attack in reply.

So it was an assasin after him.

Was that retribuition for the deaths his mother dealt while protecting him? Or was it vengeance for his grandmother's wrath?

He had no time to mull over it. Focusing on the foe before him should be his first priority at the moment, reasonings could wait until after their fight.

She was strong. He could tell she had great control oh her spiritual powers as she expertly applied them to her movements with a finesse and grace of a ballerina. She was quick on her feet, quick to react and adapt and equally as powerful and dangerous in her strikes- The throw she did when she locked her legs around his head? It almost made him think he was going to see his mother soon. He shouldn't underestimate her.

"And yet it doesn't look like she's doing her best"

Something was really off with her. With her movements, with her spirit. It was subtle but his keen eyes picked on it. On the slight wobble and tremor of her muscles, on the distress and restlessness in her heart.

Especially her heart.

"Are you ok?" he blurted out before he could think.

"What?" he could see her furrow her eyebrows in confusion.

"Your movements are off" his traitorous and dumbass mouth yapped again with more thoughtless words.

"Excuse me?"

Uh oh. He inadvertently insulted her.

He had to do something fast or else he would have to contend with a fully charged blow filled to the brim with spiritual power and even through he was confident he could take it he would rather not risk the chance of having his daycare being destroyed in the process.

He couldn't just leave her there. Even if she was trying to kill him seconds ago it would be too cruel!

"But I can't take her home either, if she's really trying to kill me then allowing her to know where I live would be bad, not to mention that taking an unconscious unknown woman home is also uhhh...." he paced back and forth trying to decide what to do.

What a pickle.

But maybe, just maybe...

"I guess it was lucky for me that tomorrow will be a weekend"

There was only one way to solve this.

=0=0=

He carefully placed her on the infirmary's bed.

"Excuse me" he held her ankle as he slowly took off her footwear, placing it by the side of the bed so to make it more comfortable for her to rest.

Now the covers.

He opened the wardrobe where he kept the blankets, freshly washed and dried out earlier that day, the fabric extra soft and still emmiting a pleasant and subdued fragrance.

"Mnngh!" she made a noise as he place the blanket on her, making him freeze.

Was she recovering her consciouness?

"Nnngh no... Please... Don't..." she curled up in distress.

She was having a nightmare.

"Wait a moment" he whispered, walking towards the cabinet where he stored the essential oils and the diffuser.

It was a practice he picked from his father. Whenever he felt restless as a kid his father would lit the diffuser so the pleasant aroma would help to calm him down.

"There we go" he plugged the diffuser on.

He went back to check on her.

"God, what awful eyebags" he muttered as he sat on the chair next to the bed. "She must be having one hell of a nightmare. Her body is trembling all over"

He remembered their earlier confrontation.

He couldn't take it from his mind.

The sorrow. The pain. The way her heart screamed so loudly. A full wail, sobbing and begging for release. Hurting, wounded, taut and strained, weared out thin and so exhausted. He never felt that much despair coming from someone's soul like hers did. It made his own heart ache in response. He felt compelled to ease it, even if she was supposedly his enemy.

Regardless of the reason behind her actions he couldn't find in him the ill will to ignore her pain. She deserved respite just as much as everyone else did.

"There's nothing to fear. You are safe here. I am here. You are not alone" he whispered, grasping her hand and trying to soothe her by conveying feelings of tranquility, warmth and protection, another trick he learned from his father after he reassured him in the same way after a particular nasty nightmare he had of his own past.

"I wonder if she's the same"

Seeing death before their eyes. Having the memory of a loved one heartlessly taken from them while they were powerless to watch.

"...No one is going to take anything else from you" his voice shook, small and frail.

The words he uttered at that moment didn't belong to the "him" that was there.

No, they belonged to someone else.

The tiny voice who spoke to her heart came from someone far younger and vulnerable. It was from the heart of one crying young boy who to this day still haven't dried his own tears.

[loorain]

Sims 4 Fontenot Legacy - Back in the Saddle

After a long day working at the restaurant, Sabrina arrives at Marquise's place for the main purpose of picking Juno up, but they also decide to treat him and Juno to a home-cooked meal.

It was a nice dinner, the three of them, the moment peaceful. For anyone looking on, they appeared like a normal nuclear family, unaware of the intricacies of this dynamic, special nonetheless but vastly different. Still, it is their normal, and the trio finds it comfortable.

Marquise washes the dishes from dinner before Sabrina and he ends up on the couch for a chat. Mainly catching up, telling Sabrina about the exciting events of the weekend, and other small talk. Eventually, however, the chat takes an interesting turn.

Marquise: So... I've been thinking...

Sabrina: Thinking...?

Marquise: Well... you're dating now...

Sabrina: Uh huh...?

Marquise: I was thinking... maybe it's time for me to get back out there too?

Sabrina: You wanna start dating again?

Marquise: I mean, maybe nothing serious just yet, just get my feet wet, you know? Take it slow and steady?

Sabrina: Marquise, I think that's an awesome idea!

Marquise: You do?

Sabrina: Of course! You deserve love just like anyone else.

Marquise: I'm just apprehensive about bringing someone new into Juno's life. I don't want to confuse him, plus as he gets older kids will start asking questions, which will make him ask questions. I want him to feel like he's normal, like everyone else.

Sabrina: Well we're already as un-normal as it gets.

Sabrina chuckles lightheartedly.

Sabrina: Don't worry so much. As questions arise, we'll be there to answer them. And you don't have to introduce a new partner immediately. Take your time. Figure out if the relationship is going somewhere. Then you can decide. And even if you decide to introduce someone new after some time, but then you discover it's not meant to be, I'll be there to help Juno understand that too.

Marquise: I'm just worried about screwing him up. I want him to be the best version of himself, whatever that is, without all the baggage.

Sabrina: You're preaching to the choir there. I get it. I feel the same way. But Juno deserves to witness his parents being happy in healthy partnerships as well as us co-parenting in a healthy way. If he can model his own life off of that, I'd say he's gonna shape out to be alright.

Marquise: Yeah? So you really think I should give it a go?

Sabrina: Marquise, you are an amazing person. Honestly, I'm probably missing out on a good thing turning you down, but another sim is going to make you so happy, and that'll be a great day not only for you but for Juno as well. So go for it. Set up a date and just see where it takes you!

Marquise: Yeah... yeah, you're right. I'm gonna do it. I mean, what's the worst that could happen?

Sabrina: Atta boy! Get back in the saddle! Hey, if you need a wingsim, you know who to call, too.

Marquise: You'd do that?

Sabrina: Why not? I've pulled my share of sims in my life, I'm sure I can help you score too!

Marquise chuckles.

Marquise: Sabrina, you really are something.

Sabrina: Don't get all mushy on me now, dude.

Eventually, the two adults find themselves being joined by another guest, making them realize the time. Sabrina stands to their feet and collects Juno into their arms.

Sabrina: Guess we should be heading home, huh Juno? Say bye-bye to Daddy.

Juno: Bye Daddy!

Marquise: Bye-bye Junebug. See you next weekend.

Sabrina and Juno head home, leaving Marquise to mull over his conversation with his parenting partner. Perhaps getting back in the saddle won't be so bad after all.

[insxmonium]

It wasn't that hard to read his father. Cloud was more of an open book than he seemed; especially when it came to his son. His guard was nearly always down, because that's what he knew he needed; no secrets, no lies, there had been far too much of that. Cloud knew violence was sometimes the answer; because that was the language that those who were cruel understood. And sometimes? A good beat down was exactly the type of rude awakening that was needed. Midgar was not a place for the soft or gentle; it had destroyed him as a child just as it had destroyed Denzel. It had crushed his childhood beneath its heel of corporatocracy and war. It ate children alive and produced compliant patriotic men in their place... but Denzel was fortunate that he was wise enough to the world of adults to see how full of shit they were. "I hope he does too." He agrees, he's trying to read his expression in return, he can tell he's thinking deeply before responding; What kind of hell had his boy been through that had done this? He knew fragments, bits and pieces, but never the full picture; not even Reeve would divulge some of the worst parts of it. He thought he'd tell him in time. He has never held himself as a helpless child, it's almost like watching an adult in a smaller body; and he sees his reflection in his eyes, in the bitterness, the grief, the rage. All of it. He'll find no lie in him, he's a terrible liar, even worse at picking up on other's feelings; but not with him. It was strange. It was almost like he could sense his heart, his emotions, they hung in the air between them... and the only person he'd ever had that connection with had been Aerith. It softens him to the boy. He does love him dearly. "Of course I'm proud of you." He confirms as fact; "You're brave... and a lot of people aren't. It takes a lot to stand up to someone like you did." He isn't looking for any particular kind of answer or response from him; it's far more important that he feels he's being seen and heard for who he is... and where he's at. This hadn't been easy on any of them. He considers, taking him in a moment, at first... he wondered if a sword would suit him, like his, and he was sure eventually he could come to wield one expertly. That didn't seem to be his first inclination to suggest; No. Aerith's... staff. He had kept every single one, unable to bear parting with them, she'd... suggest it, wouldn't she? If she were here. It might be better to start him out on something that wasn't sharp; and he begins to mull over ideas he doesn't speak out loud. Not yet. In time. "We'll figure out a good time to start up a schedule for training. I don't want you out there throwing blind punches... I want you to know where and how hard to hit... and when not to. So long as you promise to tell me if Peter starts back on his shit again?" He's inquiring, rather than demanding, knowing that he never personally did well with demands; it would only serve to make him feel more stubbornly about things than if he gave him a choice. Above all, he could never do that to him, he needed to have his own agency and ability to choose what he wanted. "And..." A small amount of hesitation, he seems worried now, if not a bit anxious; this is not easy for either of them, and Cloud has always struggled with vulnerability; "I wanted to talk to you about some things. We haven't had a chance... to really sit down in a long time. If you're still mad at me and how I handled things... I accept that, but- I want to explain some things to you, things you deserve to know, now that you're old enough. I know I probably don't deserve your trust, but..."

Come on Cloud, be brave... "I want to earn it. That starts with you knowing the truth. About the day the plate fell, about ShinRa, about meteorfall. I was there, Denzel, through all of it... and I tried to stop it." He takes in a deep breath, it had been hard to get the words out, and he never talked about any of these things with anyone; not even his closest friends. He didn't need to. They had been right there with him. "So, yeah, I'm proud of you for living through hell and coming out the other side with a strong sense of what's right and wrong. Most full grown men aren't half as capable as you are. Think you can handle a heart to heart?"

Denzel was perceptive. Cloud never treated him like he was stupid, beneath him, or like he was unable to grasp things. Half the problem was that he was incredibly intelligent. And clever. Just like Aerith. "Not with you." He says with a quiet tone, he can read that as a silent 'with me', but he isn't about to make it about his feelings. Not right now. So he waits, he doesn't break his gaze, and even if Denzel looks away, he follows his eyes and peers up into his face. There is no danger here. Cloud genuinely doesn't show a trace of anger towards him, or about anything he's done, the only thing he has is an annoyance with Elmyra. She never asked the right questions. There was always a 'why' at work. "I didn't ask if you started it." Cloud counters with equal gentleness to his touch, and instead of a flash of anger, annoyance or frustration; there's... amusement, and even a sense of pride in his expression. That was exactly the type of boy he wanted Denzel to be. He listens, nodding, taking it in; he doesn't know the girl's name, but... that boy, Peter, was a little shit and a half. He'd even heard Marlene in passing remark how mean he could be; and sure, there was a "why" there, but when it came to picking on children like that when you were bigger and stronger? Well... "Sounds like he deserved it. You broke his nose. Knocked him out cold." A smile creeps in at the corners of his lips, "Good. Somebody needed to knock sense into him... you did the right thing protecting her. Kids like him... they usually only escalate things unless someone teaches them a lesson." He stands to his full height and places a hand on top of his head, "But... brute force isn't always the answer to everything. This time it might've been, but, chances are... he's going to remember it." He considers, inclining his head to the side, Denzel is getting taller now; and maybe he hadn't noticed just how much, boy as he is, it won't be that long before he starts to grow into himself. He probably won't be that much bigger than Cloud, he's slight already, but, he also has a strength to him that could be worth refining. He breaks his own vow to himself never to train anyone to do what he does. Denzel is capable. All he needs is a steady hand to show him that his anger isn't the only way to protect others; but that has to come in time, with training, with force of will and somebody to be understanding of it; He's so much like him right now it's uncanny. "So. I think it's time somebody showed you how to defend yourself. There's throwing punches and there's avoiding them... and it's a good idea to know how to do both. You want to be strong, just like I did at your age... and you are." He's relieved, if anything, "But, just for the sake of saying I said it? Let's not start things with other kids next time. Call me. I'll pick up. I doubt anyone wants me on their case... and I have a feeling they don't know you're my son." He's never told Denzel as to why anyone might care about that; and it might also be time for him to know more of the truth, about what happened, about the things he didn't know that Cloud and his found family had been a part of. He didn't know that he could divulge every detail, but he had to start somewhere, and this might... be a good segway. "I want you to be able to fight your own battles, Denzel, but not at your own expense or the people you're trying to protect. Peter hurting other kids like this isn't right, he might think twice around you, but I'm not so sure the others will be so lucky. I'm not gonna fault you for what you did. I do have to be your dad right now though, and I think it's time I stepped in, now that I've got a good reason to." Tifa might kill him for this, "I'm proud of you."

[exilethegame]

What would be some odd little quirks of the cast/characters in terms of body language?? Like if they're nervous, maybe running a hand through their hair, or twirling a dagger, etc.?

The answer to a lot of these can be found in-game, but to compile them all in one place...

(Jost isn't here because I haven't gotten the chance to write her as much as the others and I don't like dictating habits before I get to write them!)

Vethna: Fiddle with their rings when they're nervous-- if they don't have their jewelry they play with their hands (if you lock into Vethna's route they opt to play with The Commander's hands instead). They like to run circles on tables with their nails whenever they're bored. They purse their lips a lot when they're thinking. They also stutter a lot and will talk really slow and deliberately if they're nervous about asking or saying something-- mainly because they're used to speaking Mavikras, which is a much more intentional language than Common. When they're scared or uncomfortable they tend to hug themself and draw patterns on their skin.

Nikke: Balances a very specific dagger of his on his pointer finger when he's bored or impatient-- otherwise he just runs his fingers over the hilt when he's nervous. If he clicks his tongue at you, there's a solid chance it's because you made a good point and he doesn't want to admit it. If he he's super into what he's saying (hostile, passionate, excited, etc.) he'll invade the space of the person he's speaking to. It's not something he always does with the intention of being rude. You also might notice him readjusting his jaw sometimes and massaging it when he's zoned out or thinking hard about something.

Amilia: She plays with her hair whenever she's nervous, whether that be twirling it around her finger or picking at dead ends. Otherwise she's very fidgety in general, so she'll usually be tapping her foot or fingers a lot when she's sitting still. She also will just tap on the ocarina that she wears around her neck absentmindedly or "play" songs on it without actually playing it. Her ears also (usually) only flick when she's really focused on what someone is saying or if she's deep in thought.

Sabir: The pocket watch... (checks it and watches the hands for exactly ten seconds before putting back and anxiously pulling it back out again when he's nervous). He drums his fingers a lot whenever he's thinking, and he looks off to the side when he's being thoughtful about what he's saying. He also pouts a lot and is a bit melodramatic, but it's usually because he's mulling something over as opposed to trying to make someone feel bad.

Syfyn: Her wings expose her emotions a lot... they fluff up when she gets scared, angry, flustered, etc. She also blushes really easily when she's annoyed, so even though she can keep a super straight face you'll just be able to progressively watch her ears get all red. Also, her eyes... she has slit pupils and when she gets excited about something they get all blown and wide (yet again-- even if her expression is super stoic). Honestly, anything she can control, she controls. It's all the little things she can't that expose the person she is beneath the stoic facade she wears all the time.

Freedom: They also drum their fingers and draw circles on things like Vethna and Sabir but it's a lot more deliberate-- like they're really taking in the sound of their nails or the feeling of the table as opposed to zoning out. I think they just like touching things in general. They also don't need to breathe, so the only time they ever do is when they're speaking, and they blink a lot less than a normal person would. If they hesitate or take a while to respond to something it's because they're actually thinking and being deliberate about what they want to say-- not because they're just trying to be ~*mysterious*~.

[pax-x-roux]

It was late one night as I was sitting at my favorite spot. No where else in my life felt as peaceful as this place did. My spot was my comfort, a place to get away from everything. All my troubles, inconveniences, bad days, all of it. I always felt far away from life here.

It's just a simple pile of rocks under an old train bridge that over looks the river down below. I wish I could say I found this place on my own, but I didn't. I was shown this place, ironically by the person that's hurt me the most.

I think a lot when I'm here. I can hear my thoughts clearly when I watch the river move below me. Not many people know about my spot. I prefer it that way.

Life has been getting increasingly worse lately. So many worries that eat away at my brain. I was mulling over the same thought that I've had for the past month. No real answers were coming to me as I sat contemplating what to do next.

My mind was pulled away from the heavy thought as a man wearing all black sat next to me. I did not know him nor recognize him. He was a stranger to me.

His sudden appearance startled me at first, but that was pushed aside when I realized he was now blocking my only way back to my car.

Before I could overreact he spoke with a soft voice, "it's a pretty place here, don't you think?"

I nodded my head and looked back at the river. The man moved a little closer to me and held out his hand to me. In his hand was an old bubble container that kids used to get for being good.

I was a little confused on why he was handing me bubbles. Hesitantly I took the bubbles from his hand and watched as he pulled out another container and opened it. He then began to blow bubbles as we watched them float down towards the river.

"Are you not gonna blow bubbles with me?" He asked, I nodded my head again thinking how strange this encounter was but i digress and did the same as he did.

We sat there for a good long while just blowing bubbles and watching them sink through the air, not saying a word to each othet the whole time. This was a different kind of peace that I've never experienced before. This was nice and soothing. Making my thought from earlier completely leave my mind.

"I know why you're here." He said, breaking the long silence again. I looked at him with a confused look. There was no way he could know. I wanted to see if he was wrong as I stayed silent.

"You were thinking about floating off this edge to meet the river. Weren't you?" How did he know? I didn't voice it out loud so he couldn't have over heard me. I never told a soul. This man must be on crack. That's the only conclusion I could make at this time.

"How did you know that's what I was thinking?" He looked puzzled by my question then answered, "I know that look you had. I've seen many people "fall" from this place. I've seen death in all shapes and forms. I know that look anywhere. The look that says you've given up."

"But I haven't given up yet, I'm still here, sitting here while talking to you. I'm still alive, blowing bubbles." As I spoke his face became somber and white. "The bubbles weren't meant to save you. They were meant for me. To make this easier." I didn't understand what he meant. Was he here for the same reason?

"It's time to go." He said as he stood from his spot. "I've stalled as long as I could but now we have to go." "Go where?" I said. "You're practically a stranger, why would I go with you?" He sighed then put his hand on my shoulder.

"You're a lost soul that need to be returned as soon as possible." He said. "That makes no sense, I'm not lost. I'm right here!" I said as I started to get upset by his words. "All lost souls have to be returned immediately. Come with me and all your questions will be answered." He held out his hand to me.

I thought for a moment then took his hand. His hand was cold as ice but I didn't let go as he guided me away from my spot into the darkness.

We followed the tracks until they came to an end. He turned to me and said, "This is the end of the line." After he said that I watched as his face slowly turned into a skull. There were no more features besides his empty pit like eyesockets and teeth.

In that moment I knew, I had died. "Why did you give me bubbles?" I asked. He shrugged his shoulders that were now covered in a black cloak. "Some souls need to be reminded that life wasn't all that bad. Just missed opportunities." I nodded my head. I think I understand. 

Life has to many new opportunities for us to find to just quit. I failed this life. But maybe in the next one I'll never waste a day.

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

New York High Rise {3}

Series summary; What does Steve think of what just happened? Well, not only will his next client get to know but also a dear friend of the mob boss.

Pairing: mob!Steve x mob!reader  

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Chapter 3/5

Word; 6.2k

Warnings; canon type violence, death, anything you could expect from a mafia!au

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: I just want to warn anyone, this chapter revolve around Steve and contains graphic scenes so if anyone feel like they may get triggered, I have now warned you. If you choose to read anyways it is YOUR choice.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Steve was fuming. He could practically feel the steam rising from the top of his head. This time, compared to earlier, it wasn't because of the feverish warmth inside the club. Nor the sunny season's air outside. It was because of the folder resting on the table.

The Canine boss could still hear the echoing slap the orderly stacked papers had done when landing on the table. Even your words reverberated in his head like an annoying tune he couldn't help but mutely sing in his mind.

This was not how he'd thought this meeting would go.

Steve had planned to get his will through, to expand his empire from Brooklyn to the most successful part of New York, Manhattan, your territory. But no. You'd decided to be as stubborn as a mule and as stuck up as the bureaucrats that he needed to handle in exclusive deals.

Now he understood why so many said your empire wasn't the usual kind, rather something new. You'd built your syndicate from the best, or worst in regard of how the Canine for the moment saw you, of two worlds.

"Bitch", you were long gone, so the growled curse aimed at you went unheard. However, the walls around Steve caught the profanity he uttered whilst snagging the folder from the table and pursued to head out of the room.

Only the guards stationed outside the corridor leading to the conference room was still in the club. Yet, the Canine boss paid them no mind as he stalked out of the private area, making them scramble to follow him. The rest of his party, even those previously undercover, must have either retreated for the night or waited outside. Concerning how Steve himself hadn't left yet, he suspected at least his most trusted team was waiting by the car.

Passing through the lobby, the mob boss frightened some of the staff lingering about. Not only thanks to the authority he always carried himself with but also his visible darkened features. However, Steve's attention didn't stray to the people following him with wary eyes. Instead, he looked straight forward, focusing on his guards where they lounged around the black Chrysler he'd arrived with a few hours earlier.

Seemingly, they had enough of an engaging conversation that they shared some laughs. But that changed the moment Steve stepped through the door a bouncer held open for him.

Usually, the Canine boss' hard exterior dissolved somewhat among his men, seeing how they'd become good comrades. Although now, when the dark-blonde man came out of the club looking like he could kill someone, their easy smiles and carefree stance immediately smartened up. Backs straightened and jaws clenched upon seeing the fury Steve not only emitted with a scowl but his whole body.

"How did it go?" One of the guards questioned, more out of courtesy than curiosity, concerning it was clear how it went. As suspected, he got nothing more than a glare from Steve, seeing how his anger hadn't flickered out the slightest, only heightened when feeling how his fingers clutched the folder in his hand even tighter. Your folder with your contract.

"Where's Barnes?" Some flinched by his bark of a question.

"He's still inside...", the rest of the answer fell on deaf ears as the blonde rounded the car, not caring too much where his head bodyguard was for the moment, only that he would hurry up to finish whatever he dealt with.

"As soon as he's back, we go", the driver, who had noticed the Canine boss and stepped out of the vehicle to hold open the door for him, didn't even get the chance to do what he intended. Steve all but tore open the backseat door and climbed into the car. Leaving the chauffeur to stand there and look at his boss in perplexity, as the Canine didn't more than touch the black leather seat before he slammed the door shut again.

That Steven had a temper everyone in his vicinity knew. But how he now acted reached not only a new level but contrasted heavily to how you'd appeared.

You'd left about ten minutes ago, looking indifferent to how everyone in Steven's patrol had seen you when first entering the designated conference room. That guard of yours had led you to the car parked mere ten feet from their own boss'. There, your chauffeur had greeted you with a smile and a few quiet words none besides you were meant to hear. Neither was your response, that likewise was accompanied with a smile, able to be distinguished.

As you stepped into your transport, none of the men trying to read your expressions noted anything more than a similar politeness Steve could show them once in their company. However, when comparing it to the state of their own boss once he exited, it was clear that the meeting didn't favour the Canine boss, but rather the Feline. And though none who had accompanied Steven knew what the two of you'd discussed concerning the meeting had been a closed-door discussion, they knew their boss hadn't brought anything with him earlier. So when spotting the portfolio that the mob boss had held in his hand, it only sealed the deal further.

That was why none of the guards nor the chauffeur intruded on the solitude Steve had sought inside the car, merely waiting for the right-hand man of the Canine boss to return so they could head to their next stop.

And it was good none did either, seeing how Steve mulled over everything that had happened with curses leaving him every five seconds. Additionally, anyone who would've opened the opposite backseat door would have got your folder smack in the forehead, seeing how the blonde man had thrown it as harshly and as far away from himself that he could, once in his own confinement.

He didn't need to hold the damned contract you'd offered him, even less open and study it, to know he would read it in your annoying voice. And that aggravated Steve even more.

It annoyed him that your voice echoed as a constant reminder in his mind. It annoyed him that you'd prepared a contract, which so obviously cried you hadn't even come here to listen to him in the first place. It annoyed him to such a fucking degree that you'd played him by a mere act of forced courtesy rather than a gentlemen move, to use your own words, that it felt like he could just tear the contract to shreds.

Still, he didn't.

The blonde man seethed, turning his head to look at the folder. 'If you don't sign it and have it delivered to me, I know you've declined my offer and this war will be ended in another way.' He knew you were serious about that, so perhaps that was why he hadn't left it behind in the conference room. Nonetheless, it had taken a great effort for Steve to push away every ounce of pride in his body to grab ahold of it. And when he finally held the stiff cartoon folder, it had almost felt like it burned him like some crucifix. No, it burned like a sign of defeat.

Joseph Rogers would never have done it, never admitted when he was defeated.

At the thought of his father, Steve's hand fisted where it rested on the armrest dividing the two seats in the back of the car. What would he say? He probably wouldn't have said anything, just walked out as you had done to him. A vibration deep in his chest made a low sound leave him at the realisation you actually played the game his father always had and Steve himself only thought he had.

Fittingly, or unfittingly in his own mind, the door connected to the other seat opened with a click to interrupt the abusive thoughts of his father.

Although pulled out of his mind, Steve didn't glance to see whoever plucked the folder occupying the seat beside him before they climbed in themselves. There was only one person that first and foremost would dare to be in his presence right now. On top of that, also knew he was the only one who didn't need to repeatedly ask for permission to join him.

Not even when he saw the person shift in his peripheral, from simply holding the folder to actually waving it slightly to catch his attention, clearly wanting to ask him a question, did Steve look towards them. Although, he did speak up.

"Not a word, Barnes", the Canine boss raised his fist, so it was levelled with his cheek as he said this. By now, his nails had dug into his palm and there was no question small crescent moons would be dented in his skin.

"Maybe I should've stayed, after all", the sentence was followed by a chuckle, the sound making Steve snap to watch the man sitting beside him.

"Didn't I say you should keep your mouth shut?" The blonde stared at the brunette. Who, unlike earlier, now had pulled his hair into a low bun in the nape of his neck. However, no matter the fury the Canine's cold blue eyes conveyed, Bucky Barnes saw no real threat.

"You often do, but you have so far not put a bullet in me", Bucky shrugged with an easy smile.

The mob boss remained silent as his head bodyguard leaned forwards far enough to knock on the wall beside the still open windshield that could separate the driver from those in the back seat.

"Close it up", Steve honestly thought the brunette would've given the chauffeur, who now had taken his place behind the wheel, directions of where to go. Gauging by his act, he must have done it before getting into the car. Hence, the driver did nothing but nod to signify he heard what the guard said before closing the visor, leaving whatever Steve knew Bucky wanted to talk to him about for only him to hear.

He felt the car rock to a gentle start, the road underneath the vehicle sending small vibrations throughout Steve. Tilting his head, he saw the scenery blur as he didn't concentrate on anything specific they drow by.

Despite the initial silence of the car ride, the blonde saw how the man beside him shifted, angling his body just slightly more his way. The minimal change of where Bucky attention laid told the mob boss he would initiate a conversation. And as on a cue, Bucky spoke. "So what happened? 'Cause clearly you scared half of your squad enough for them to want to take a week off".

He didn't redirect his gaze, fearing that his now fisted hand would connect with his friend's jaw if he didn't control himself. What happened? The question taunted in his mind, enough so that Steve clenched his jaw. Everything that shouldn't have happened.

"You have the folder", he gritted out, continuing to aimlessly stare out of the window, now concentrating on how the scenery changed from the narrow streets the nightclub had been located in to instead manifest the glittering sunset reflecting off the water in East River.

Beside him, he felt how Bucky shifted and shortly afterwards came the sounds of papers starting to be turned over. The head guard sat silent as he read the contract that not even the Canine had looked through.

The lack of verbal confirmation of Steve's evident loss in this meeting spurred the blonde, whether he wanted or not, to glance at the brunette.

Bucky's brows were furrowed. Consequently causing the grooves on his forehead, which always appeared when he pondered something, to become extremely visible. His features remained this way as his eyes scanned over the rows stitching together the contract. Then, for some reason, they changed.

From an expression showing the brunette tried to fathom the situation that had made Steve considerably harsher to anyone in his close vicinity, his face now fell and a smirk began to toy with his lips. On top of this, he let out a low whistle turning to the next page.

The smouldering anger in Steve's chest flared up to the same intensity it had burned with earlier. Back when he had sat in silence and glared at the folder inside the club. He ground his teeth together, feeling how they caught in each other's pointy edges.

"What?" He demanded to know what the man all of a sudden found so entertaining. Yet, the answer didn't come immediately. Instead, Bucky sat there with the same expression pinning his face while finishing the document in his grip.

Not until the brunette had closed the binder and waved it similarly to how he'd done when entering the car did his gaze meet Steve's. His eyes, also blue but slightly greyer in colour, was crinkled in the corners. The amusement, or whatever caused the mob boss nostrils to flare in agitation, was only further displayed by the shake of his head.

"She's good".

"What?" Bucky almost hadn't finished his nearly wordless reply before Steve barked his requirement of an explanation.

"Whether you want to admit it aloud or not, I know you think about it in that analysing brain of yours", the brunette begun, pushing the folder underneath the mob boss' arm on the armrest. Steve, who followed the act with disdain, shuffled in his seat directly afterwards so he wouldn't be touching the contract which you formerly had been carrying around.

Watching the blonde's action, Bucky only continued, now even less worried his words might be wrong and evoke further anger from the Canine. Of course, he might still get mad, though Bucky knew he at least was right. "She is good, Steve. If not shown by this contract, which I suggest you read, then at least how she's gotten to you".

The blonde man elected to ignore the last part of his bodyguard's sentence. Hence, only questioning the first part. "Why should I read it?"

Arrogance was a trait many shared once someone stepped on their pride, but never had Bucky witnessed such amounts of it exhibited by the Canine boss. His nose twitched in the corner as if the mere thought of opening the papers offended him. The mistrust in his voice showed he didn't believe what just was advised to him, nor that the words of you being competent could be true. All signs of denial, a damaged pride.

"Sometimes I wondered how you even could've come this far to rebuild your father's empire when you're so stubborn to see the truth at times", the comment made Steve cock his head.

"Is that a threat or a call for resignation, I hear?" Bucky simply rolled his eyes and turned to fully face the man, now giving him his undivided attention.

"I may have been here from the day you called me and asked me to join your plans, but believe me, working outside this world for some time, especially in the field I was in, you learn to see who is good at their job and not".

Although Bucky had known Steve ever since they were kids, essentially because their fathers had been partners when the Canine empire was worth more than its own power in gold, the two had fallen out of the regular touch they'd kept after Joseph had passed. Steve had remained close to his mother. While Bucky returned to have both his feet in the ordinary world.

His name had never been brought into the discussion of conviction or any kind of youth crimes, essentially thanks to his father never being proven guilty of the few charges raised against him. Another favour his old man thanked the former Canine boss for. For Bucky, it made things easy to find live his life as if he didn't know what went on underneath the city he walked in.

He went to school, took a degree in law. Which his father before passing as well, considered humorous. Though, Bucky didn't start working directly even if offered jobs. He'd been young and not really knowing which direction he would go. He had no mothers footsteps to follow, seeing how she'd passed before he even had a memory of her. His father shoes still felt too big to fill, so he decided to follow a path he felt natural.

Bucky joined the army. Not more than a few years and two trips. Nevertheless, it was easy pocket change concerning two factors. His father had urged him to take the same martial art classes as Steve's father had done to him. He'd also lived with one foot in the syndicate and the other outside during his whole childhood. The concept of order, planning and warfare wasn't anything alarmingly new to him.

Then he'd begun to explore more, starting to step into the low tier position as an intern at different firms. It was easy to get in, concerning his degree and quickly, he gained enough working experience to get a promotion. His former boss at the advocate company may have thought Bucky was a natural talent or a genius from school. But, it was all thanks to his upbringing he possed the requirements a higher position demanded.

It's mainly thanks to his years working within the judiciary before reconnecting with Steve and began working as his head guard Bucky knows you fall into the group of people who are good at what you do.

The blonde had sat silent this whole time, never breaking away from Bucky's stare. It made the brunette believe that his friend would settle whatever resent he had towards you personally and at least read through the arrangement you assembled for the greater of his empire. Apparently, he was wrong.

"But now you're not working with that anymore", Bucky actually let out a low scoff of annoyance.

"I'm working as a head personal guard for someone I'm swaying on keeping alive at the moment, I know. And I do this because we both know I'm better at the combat part than you, ever since we were kids", despite the jab, it was the mention of how the man, despite being roughly the same size as Steve, always had been slightly better at fighting then himself that made the blonde bite his inner cheek. "I also know that I'm still damn good at what used to be my former profession. Which, you actually also should know concerning you never shoo me out of the room when discussing with your official advisors of the plans to come", when he finally ended the point he wanted to prove, he cocked a brow at Steve, who now had furrowed his brows.

Bucky saw the ire still lingering in the blondes' eyes, making them go cold rather than warm. Nevertheless, he said nothing. The Canine boss simply gave the folder, which hadn't moved from its settlement no matter how much the two men gently had rocked with the turns of the car, one last glare before he altogether turned away as much as his seat let him.

The head bodyguard was close to letting the comment of how similar the mob boss, who'd made a name for himself lately of being indifferent to everything standing in his way, was to a rebellious child. Yet, in the end, he didn't, knowing the car ride would become even more atrocious than it already was set to be.

As suspected, the whole drive from the club to the luxurious hotel, where the Canine boss' next stop was, went by in complete silence. And, when they finally pulled up outside the building, the car had almost not stopped before Steve opened the door without a word. The brunette couldn't but let out a huff and follow the man out of the vehicle.

As Bucky tracked a few steps behind the blonde mob boss, he nodded to a few of the other bodyguards to follow as well. Whatever he might have remarked about considering to keep Steve alive was very much said as a dig at the moment to remind the man he might be written as his subordinate, but he was true to nature working side by side with him. After all, Steven was his friend and Bucky didn't desire to get his blood on his hands.

When the little party of Canines neared the entrance, both men stationed on each side of the doors opened them without further ado. Either they thought Steve looked like someone fitting to live here, or they could've been paid to do so. The brunette figured it was the latter concerning the overall safety measures, not only this hotel but the district in general upheld. Although, he didn't question it way too much as he now concentrated on the slightly denser crowd of people in the lobby.

Not only did they blend in quite well, concerning the people living at this hotel was flanked by at least two bodyguards each. Bucky also noticed how some of the former rigidity in Steve's shoulder lessened as he weaved through the lobby.

Though anyone else may find it excellent that the physical aspect of the blondes former irritation trickled off, it unsettled Bucky even further. Thus, having grown up with Steve, he knew that the silent seething anger was worse than the outgoing one. This, in other words, didn't bode particularly well.

However, even though the brunette had a raising suspicion, along with fear, that this visit the mob boss had decided to do after his meeting with you wouldn't have a good outcome, he had no chance to voice his worry. Essentially because the elevator they'd taken to reach the floor they were heading to now stopped.

Bucky was first to exit the elevator. Checking that the coast was clear before looking back to the Canine boss. He tried making the blonde meet his gaze, now seriously doubting if Steve was fit to meet the partner he'd had an escalating problem with the past weeks. Yet, the blue-eyed man kept his attention straight forward and didn't even spare his childhood friend a glance.

A thousand things were running through Steve's mind as he headed down the corridor, spotting the door his business partner was on the other side of.

He knew Bucky tried gaining his attention with the repetitive looks he threw his way. His most entrusted bodyguard and friend could read him like an open book. Thus knowing the silent facade that he'd put up was just that, a facade. Still, he continued to ignore him as he'd done ever since their conversation was over half an hour ago.

As the party stopped before the door, Steve decided to give the inclining nod to one of his other guards to step forwards and knock on the door.

Following three rapid knocks, a call of 'no cleaning' followed by a similar set of knockings later, footsteps could be heard near the door from the other side. A few seconds after, the door swung open, revealing a man currently trying to fasten his cufflinks.

"I said I didn't...". Even though the brunette's eyes had been cast down as he'd began to speak, the second they flickered up to watch, what the man must have assumed would be a hotel maid but rather was the Canine mob boss, he trailed off in his sentence.

"Good day Mr Jefferson", if the man's body hadn't already gone rigid, his shoulders bounced up even closer to his ears after Steve's greeting.

In a hurried attempt to smarten up, he completed his attempt of fastening the jewellery pin.

"Mr Rogers", he breathed out almost shakily while pulling a hand through his hair, some of the strands sticking to his scalp while others simply fell forwards once more. "Why do I owe the pleasure?"

Without answering, Steve stepped forwards, forcing the man to open the door wider.

As he walked into the pad, the blonde gazed around it uninterestingly. It was lavish. Probably like most rooms were in the hotel.

"I'm here to talk with you". Steve answered his associates question the second he heard the door closed. Taking the liberty, he sat down in the couch group occupying a vaster portion of the entry room's space. "Sit", with a wave of his hand, the Canine motioned to the sitting place at the other side of the dark oak table.

Jefferson, who glanced warily at the guards that had stationed themselves around the room -one by the window, another two directly behind Steve and the last lingering by the door out to the corridor- had no other choice than to follow the mob boss' directions.

Sitting down at the edge of the seat, he swallowed around the lump in his throat.

"How's business going?" The mob boss asked as he leaned against the couches backrest. One arm was slung over the ridge, fingers tapping against the material, while his other hand rested on his thigh.

"Bussines is going well".

"Good, always nice to hear companies you invest in are going strong", Steve hummed, noticing the minimal shift Jefferson did as he said this. "How's my money going?"

"Ah... t-that question is a little more complicated...".

Even though the brunette continued to ramble about all the different reasons his payments were late, or not even that, non-existing, the Canine boss didn't listen. He knew he was being screwed over by the man opposite him. He'd gotten the information weeks ago that the CEO of the company he's worked with since the beginning of the year wanted to change sides.

At first, it had been more of a rumour and he hadn't been able to dig up where Jefferson's company was heading. Then it became clear they would switch partners to one of the other godfather's around New York. However, even if Steve thought he didn't like how they tried doing so in the shadows while still upholding their deal, the worst thing was when he got to know who they shifted their alliance to. You.

Seeing how much unfavourable publicity you'd given his empire in the last few months was aggravating. However, listening to the man talking his ear off as if Steve hadn't already figured why exactly fifteen percentages of the profit capital was rolling into your account instead of his was the last drop.

Without even noticing it himself, Steve's hand that had rested upon his thigh raised and were tucked into his suit.

The metal handle he gripped wasn't cold anymore, not after having rested so close to his heart for over an hour. Nor did it get cooled down as he hastily pulled it out of its holster and aimed it at the man opposite him.

"I don't like rats, Landon", the use of the man's first name rather than surname would've made him quiet if the gun aimed his way already hadn't silenced him. "Pray you don't get reborn as one in your next life as well".

On the firearm, a silencer was mounted. So the characteristic bang sounded much more like a pop. Therefore, the noise of the gun was even less intimidating than the ricochet. However, neither of the telltale signs of a shot made Steve flinch, not even as he watched the bullet penetrate the space in-between his former associate's eyes, did he react.

As the mob boss stood, Jefferson's upper body slumped forward, hitting the table with a heavy thud and ugly clap as his head was the first thing that connected with it. No tears were trickling down his cheeks. Only a red streak that steadily created a near-invisible puddle on the mahogany table.

"Steve!" The silence and peace Steve found in watching the body was cut short by Bucky's voice.

The Canine glanced to his side, regarding how his head bodyguard rounded the couch and stood before him with one single step.

"What the fuck was that?" The brunette exclaimed, hand motioning to the dead body.

If any other person than Bucky would've done the same thing in this instance, they either would've ended up joining peaceful Mr Jefferson, or they wouldn't work within the Canine empire anymore. However, concerning that it now was his childhood friend staring at him in disbelief, Steve made sure none of the options was carried through.

"Problem-solving", Steve answered, about to take a step forwards but were stopped with a hand planting itself on his chest. He looked down before looking up with a cocked eyebrow.

"That ain't how we solve shit!"

"Not we, but I", Steve said, gripping Bucky's wrist, ripping it away from him. "You see, now both our problems are solved. He doesn't need to fear his cover being blown and I don't need to lose more money". That was all Steve said before taking a step around the brunette, whose eyes had narrowed considerably.

As most of his colleagues trailed after their boss, Bucky stayed back just a second longer, looking at the lifeless body giving a new sheen to the table whilst staining the carpet underneath. He'd known Steve had taken your conference badly and he also knew it hadn't been a good idea to have this appointment so shortly afterwards, especially when it was connected to you, but in such a different way. Still, he hadn't believed it would take this much of a turn.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

"Damn that fucking thing!" Steve roared, not thinking when he swept his hands over his desk. Everything from pencils, an empty coffee cup and other things crashed to the floor. However, it wasn’t solely that which now was littering the ground. The papers of your contract had flown out of the folder as well.

Staring down at the mess of shattered glass and paper from his standing position. The Canine boss felt a sneer enter his features. Ever since returning home late last night, he'd been locked inside his study. Primary because it was the place no one dared to disturb him in, but also because he didn't feel like arguing with Bucky.

He knew that after the stunt, as he knew his friend and bodyguard would label his approach to the Jefferson problem, the brunette wanted to speak with him. Yet, with the residue anger of not only a restless night, one Steve had powered through thanks to copious amounts of coffee. But also the subject now taunting him on the floor, a conversation with his right-hand man would lead nowhere.

He and Bucky didn't often get into fights, but Steve was convinced this was one of the matters that could force such a confrontation. He'd still not gathered his bearings enough to admit that he needed to yield. Because that was what he would need to do.

The mob boss switched from watching the scattered pieces of the contract to instead stare straight into the oaken surface of his desk as he now leant on it, knuckles turning white from how strongly he held the countertop. By now, he'd read through the four-page agreement. Something that was a step in the right, or in Steve's regard wrong, direction.

He didn't want to admit it. But as Bucky had mentioned yesterday, it was a top-certified contract. He couldn't find any loopholes. No grey-zones. No area that he could play you on.

Steve knew that you would be hard to crack, but he hadn't anticipated this.

Despite knowing that you and the Felina empire had overtaken his father's grip on New York, he had underestimated you. A woman running the empire you did was so uncommon he thought you would have some weak spot regarding how you had no one else to look up to. Nor did you have any previous family connections to the underworld. Which honestly made your success even more astonishing. 

Almost so much it was questionable if you had done it yourself.

Steve had assumed you hadn't. Someone else must be the brain behind the operation, simply using you as a puppet. However, it seemed he'd made a tremendous mistake by assuming just that. It wasn't anyone else running your empire. You were involved in every little part of the well-oiled machine.

Once more, the canine boss let out an irritated noise, sounding more like a growl than a harsh sigh in his own ears.

He pushed off from the countertop and, in one motion, had side-stepped his chair. Now, with the room behind him, Steve stared out of the windows lining the wall furthest from the entrance. His arms had crossed over his chest and remained there as he stared out at the bay not far away.

Ferries and other boats travelled the waters. Breaking the tension and creating small waves. If it wasn't for this, it almost would've looked like they travelled through the city. Regarding how not only New York's but also Brooklyn's dusk lightning reflected in the water.

When the Canine boss finally felt the sight before him lessened the tension in his shoulders, a knock came from the door.

If his features ever had lightened, the sound immediately beckoned a furrow to take its place. Even more so when the door opened without him having given the person on the other side permission.

He knew who it was, Bucky.

"What do you want?" Steve's voice was cold, harsh. 

"I want to speak with you", instantly, the mob boss noticed how his friend's voice didn't carry that joyous tone when he spoke to him as just that, friends. Bur rather the more levelled one, the professional one.

"I won't speak about Jefferson".

"Neither is that why I'm here", glancing over his shoulder upon hearing the rustle of paper, the Canine boss saw his guard pick up the pieces of the contract from the floor. He arranged them before putting them back into the folder. Contrary to how Steve would've caused the map to give away a whack when flinging it onto his desk. Bucky's hand followed through the whole movement. His fingers even resting upon the grey folder as it laid placid on the middle of the counter.

"I'm here to talk about the real problem", Steve turned to face the brunette. He didn't say anything. Still, Bucky knew that having gotten this much attention was a sign he either was about to be shot or given a limited amount to talk.

"I know this is hard for you, Steve... actually scratch that, it is hard for everyone who's supported you. But I'll be damned if you let everything we've worked for go to waste because you don't have it in you to lose a battle in favour of winning a later war"

All of a sudden, Bucky's face twisted as an unexpected crash echoed. His fist had smashed onto the table. Enough for the countertop to rattle.

“I love to give you the most personal advice I've ever had”, he started, not even holding back his pent up frustration. “Sign that fucking contract, pal". The canine boss' blue eyes narrowed as he met the stormy grey ones of the man before him.

"Get out", Bucky clenched his jaw and straightened himself.

"I'll be waiting for the call to come and pick it up", was the last thing the brunette said before swiftly turning on his heel and heading to the door.

Steve followed his oldest friend with his eyes until the door echoes shut behind him. Even after Bucky's footsteps were long gone, did the Canine boss stare forward. He did it simply because he didn't want to let his eyes flicker down to the contract, now turned to the last page where the paper waited for his signature.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

A day later, Steve still stared at the folder resting un-signed on his desk. It was out of pure spite he hadn't signed it. To keep your victory at bay.

Two days later and he felt how the clock on his wall ticked louder than before. How the voices in his head escalated from whispering to shouting at him. 'Sign that fucking contract, pal.'

Three days later and Steve felt how time was running out.

Even if he didn't want to admit it aloud. To not sign would be foolish. Sure, he had the resources to continue this war. Hence, the short extra time the meeting and his delay in signing the contract had abled him to recoup. But still, his empire was lacking a significant piece his father's syndicate had, time. He needed more time to grow but wasn't given that. So yes, he could continue this battle, but he could not win it.

Therefore the mob boss gripped the pen and pressed the ink dipped tip to the dotted line.

His signature was darker than usual. More colour bleeding onto the paper. The curves of the letters were not as smooth as regular either. Instead, straighter, pointier. Forced.

Steve didn't look at his name shining back at him once he raised the pen and put it back in its stand. Instead, Steve stood and dialled a number on his phone. One tone was all it took before the person on the other end picked up.

"Get it out of my sight, Barnes", was all he said before instantly hanging up. The call had lasted four seconds. Even so, Steve deleted it from the history of his 'latest' list.

Shoving the phone into his pockets, the blonde man stood from his chair and headed to the office doors. He didn't look back once at the folder left behind on his desk. Not even when he closed the doors behind him.

Series taglist: @njrronaldo7​ @fanfic-love-show​ @gabycamargo22​ @fckdeusername​

[drwcn]

《midnight sun》 — # 13

Summary of questions: does lan wangji believe jiang yan is wei wuxian and jiang cheng's daughter? does wei wuxian know lan wangji thinks jiang yan is jiang cheng's daughter? Answer: worse. wei wuxian thinks lan wangji knows jiang yan is their daughter. lan wangji doesn't know shit. LOL.

(i recommend listening to [x] for this snippet)

When she opened her eyes, it was Jingshi and a guqin's melancholic tune that greeted her. She had half-hoped (and half-feared) that she would be back at Lotus Pier again.

But back then, did you really believe in me?

Lan Wangji did not respond, and so they fell into a silence. Wei Wuxian rested there, propped up by pillows, staring into the darkened woods around Lan Wangji's home. She was still in Mo Xuanyu's clothes, but his macabre steel mask sat on the bed-side stand.

Wei Wuxian touched her own face gingerly. Thirteen years — a lifetime has gone by. There were secrets she had taken to her death, but this time around, she no longer wished to hide.

Earlier that day, she had not seen Yan'er amongst the Jiang disciples at Mt Dafan.

Weren't you the one who killed her yourself, Jiang-zongzhu?!

Lan Jingyi's words had reminded her of what death had obscured - the horrifying fact that she had left her only child in the custody of the brother who had willingly taken her life.

Heavens...

Suddenly, it no longer seemed important that she continued to keep this secret from Lan Wangji. She had to know that Yan'er was safe. At once.

"Lan Zhan, there's a person, a junior, I want to ask you about -"

"Jiang Yan."

Lan Wangji lifted his eyes from his guqin to meet hers from across the room. There was... hurt, disappointment, and something entirely too deep to comprehend inside those eyes that kept her company in her dreams during her years at the Burial Mount.

Wei Wuxian felt the heart she carried in her throat plunge to the pit of her stomach.

"You know."

It was not a question.

"Mn."

"How long have you known? Did Jiang Cheng -?"

"He did not tell me anything. He didn't need to. The first time I met her, I knew. The child bears a great likeness to you."

"I -" She clutched the blanket that covered her, fighting the urge to escape under it as one hand curled around her belly subconsciously. "I..."

Wei Wuxian! Stop, stop pushing, stop trying, you're dying damn it! Listen to me, you're dying! Wen Qing's lovely face floated into her mind, one of many souls who'd been let down by her arrogance and pride, a ghost of her guilt.

In the end, Wei Wuxian supposed she had let Lan Wangji down too. All those men who had wanted her for her power, for the Stygian Amulet, circling the newfound Lotus Pier like sharks in the water...she may not have lost her virtues to them, but perhaps she did lose sight of herself along the way. That day in the forest, at Phoenix Mountain, what a selfish impulse it had been to lay claims to the untouchable Hanguang-jun.

If she were fair to him, she would have drank the medicine Wen Qing offered her. Give him a clean break, release him, absolve him. The minute she had pulled Lan Wangji down onto the grassy meadow and wrapped him between her legs, she knew she'd be tainting him. Yet still, she had held on so tight and begged him for everything he had. When he gave himself to her, with fervor and faith, she had greedily consumed him: his first touch, his first kiss, his first release...his first child.

She had taken it all and gave nothing back. Now, when nothing could be changed or salvaged, she would not assume that he would ever forgive her. And if he did not wish to be burdened by the consequences of her actions and desires...well, she understood that too.

Wei Wuxian, please, forsake the baby, choose yourself. Wen Qing had clutched her hand and pleaded through her scared and desperate tears. Give me permission, give me permission to save you!

No, Qing-jiejie, I can - I can do it! Lan Zhan - Lan Zhan -

Lan Wangji is not here, Wei Wuxian! It's just you. Just you, do you hear?! Please, please don't -

Her heart was not broken. Heartbreak was a privilege of her last life.

"Is Yan'er well?"

Wei Wuxian was fully aware of her every debt and sin, but they were hers and hers alone. Jiang Yan should not be the one left to pay for a mother whom she had never known.

"Yes. She lives at Lotus Pier. Jiang Wanyin is very good to her. He raised her as his first disciple and her named her Jiang Yueqian. She is very bright, and a strong cultivator. He's very proud of her; as you would be too once you meet."

And you, Wei Wuxian wanted to ask. Are you proud of her too?

Externally, Wei Wuxian let out a breath of relief. "Jiang Cheng kept his word to me after all."

Lan Wangji's face seemed to fall at those words, though that could easily have been a trick of the light.

"Wei Ying, you and Jiang Wanyin …"

Wei Wuxian frowned. "What about me and Jiang Cheng?"

Lan Wangji stroked the strings on his guqin contemplatively, mulling over his words for a moment before carefully asking, "Would you like to... go back to Lotus Pier?"

"After shijie's death, you think I would still be welcomed back at Lotus Pier?"

"But you are Jiang Yan's mother. Surely -"

Wei Wuxian shook her head. "If Jiang Yan is as you said - the first disciple of Yunmeng Jiang - then she is an orphan, and her mother is dead. I am the resurrected Yiling Laozu; I cannot be her mother. For her sake, I should have stayed dead. Since that is not the case, then at the least, I shall stay away."

Lan Wangji said nothing in response.

Wei Wuxian closed her eyes. She did not cry.

[ironhoshi]

Or 39

This one is super old and I know it sat in my inbox because I had already done that prompt. My apologies! I, uh, wrote something else entirely and am totally using this as an excuse to post it.

No kiss prompt here...

Please enjoy Cody and Rex bonding below. Warnings for some angst.

⭐⭐⭐

It was like they were crystals winking in an inky ocean of sky. With his hands clasped behind his head he just watched the balls of cold light. Stars, he mused, rarely changed. The gentle breeze made the tall grass around him rustle.

It was peaceful. 

"Come on, Cody," Rex pestered lazily, "answer the question."

Cody hummed in the back of his throat and finally set about mulling the question over. What did he want to do when the war ended? That was a heavy thing to figure out. They had been raised for war, brought up to walk in the shadows of Jedi, and taught they'd die for the Republic. They hadn't been their own since their 'birth'. 

"I think," he finally said softly, "that I want to become my own person after the war."

Rex made a pained noise. "You are doing this wrong, vod! You are supposed to say you want to become a kriffing farmer or something."

"I didn't know they made that type of farmer," Cody deadpanned and promptly grunted as Rex thwacked him in the shoulder. Thank kriff for armor. Rex hit hard. "Peace! I was being serious. I want to make a name for myself. Unique and all my own."

"What? Change your name, you mean?"

"No. I am rather fond of Cody. I mean I want to stand in just enough spotlight that when people look at me they don't see General Kenobi's shadow." He adored his Jedi, honest, but at some point during the war things had gotten twisted in the public eye. He heard the rumors. Kenobi never mentioned them, didn't treat him any differently, but Cody figured he had to know them as well. They said he was on his knees for the General and that was one of the kinder things said. 

"I think I follow," Rex finally said after a bit. "I wouldn't mind working to help planets recover. We go in...we win or lose the battles and we leave. I'd like to be the reason a kid laughs again or a family has a roof over their head."

Cody smiled softly. Rex always did care. He, like many of the vode, were squandered as mere fighters. They had so much potential to be more and they weren't allowed to do so. They were, to be frank, property. 

"That sounds nice." Cody shifted enough to rub his nose with the side of a hand. "Maybe I'll join you."

Rex snorted but he could still the wave of fondness. Yeah, rebuilding the galaxy instead of setting it ablaze would certainly be nice. "So you wouldn't ask General Kenobi to exchange armor with you?" Cody groaned before he could stop himself. 

"Kark, Rex, no. You know-" Rex burst out laughing and Cody lashed out with a foot. His boot connected with plastoid and Rex only cackled harder. 

"I know, I know," his vod'ika finally managed to say after calming down. "Kriff, I needed that laugh. I am stuck around my General acting like a di'kut about romance, I can't help making you suffer too."

Cody pulled a face. It wasn't like he didn't think his own General was good looking, but he simply didn't have any interest. He was far too busy making sure his vode stayed alive, that there were less muffled sobs under helmets, and for the war to end. He wanted the Republic to get a karking clue. The war was destroying everyone. Laying here, stealing a moment of peace made guilt eat at him. It was pointless to dream about being known as something other than a soldier, and yet, he still dreamed. 

Being a teacher might be nice, even if he had no idea what he would teach…

"I think I'd make a good Supreme Chancellor," he blurted out in an attempt to shock Rex. "That sure would be one way to make sure people noticed me for me and not because I pick up my General's cloaks all the time."

Silence. All he got was silence. Cody blinked and rolled his head enough to glance at Rex. The vod was clearly thinking, gears turning some dangerous idea over and over in that head. "...I bet ori'vod Fox would be delighted to make you Supreme Chancellor."

"No! I was joking. Don't you-" And then Rex was scrambling up off the ground, bits of grass flying about. Cody swore and was a beat behind him, which was just enough time for Rex to take off running back towards camp. "Stop! That's an order!"

"You aren't my Supreme Chancellor yet," Rex threw over his shoulder with a laugh.

Kark. Rex was definitely going to call Fox.

[aotopmha]

Attack on Titan Series Thoughts

I've been mulling over Attack on Titan's ending and how I'd rate the whole story from all kinds of angles and I've reached the conclusion that above all else, the ending is really fucking annoying.

A great or a terrible ending would help me make my mind up much more easily.

If it's great, it's great. If it's terrible it's a good story with a terrible ending.

But instead, it is a mixed bag: there are things about it I like a lot and things about it I don't like.

It is a very common belief that the ending is paramount to a story's quality, but I've found that this is not really true for me. My favourite anime ever pretty much doesn't even have a proper ending. My needs for an ending basically encompass some sort of sense of closure and that's about it.

Especially longer-running series often either make the journey worth it just by being as long as they are (so a pretty generic ending is okay) or fall off in quality long before they are done. But AoT is neither of these for me.

AoT in this sense is complicated for me because I can't decide whether the ending impacted the quality of the story or not depending on which aspect of the ending I focus on.

Some details make it immensely satisfying to me and some details sour it a little bit.

I think right now the good and bad things balance out so in general nothing changes about how I view the story overall.

In basics, I really like the emotional core of Attack on Titan, but I've always found it flawed on the technical level.

I'd give the story a 10 just for how much it emotionally engaged me and made me care. This story is the reason why I started this blog and I became active talking about media in the first place.

For a time I was losing the sense of fun of being a fan: people just became really hostile when discussing stuff.

But this past week or so has been incredible in my inbox, reminding me of the highs of being a fan, with so many wonderful messages.

Other stories have made me more angry, made me cry more or laugh more, but AoT made me feel the biggest spectrum of feelings.

No other story has made me do this, at most I only became a member of various forums as a random member; I didn't create a blog with the aim to talk about one.

From a technical level, I would give it a 6-7 depending on the section of the story.

The foreshadowing for various twists is pretty loose from start to finish, there is a bunch of redundant scenes all over the story and the pacing can be really uneven. It is not nearly as *well-crafted* of a story in my eyes as I see people praise it to be.

The art is a pretty huge mess at points, too.

I think sometimes the fact that this is the author's very first actual long-running story very much shines through. I think only a beginner would dare to employ historical imagery as bluntly as Isayama did, too, for example.

But to me the emotional core is magical.

The average of these two aspects, emotional and technical, would be around 8-8.5.

But at the same time, when I finished that last chapter I felt like I couldn't rate it and this has rarely happened to me.

I've kind of slowly distanced myself from number ratings in general because consuming media is a very emotional and personal thing and exploring it via positives and negatives feels much more apt.

From that perspective, I think the story is incredibly emotionally intelligent and understands humanity really well.

Stemming from that in turn, I think themes are the strongest aspect of the story next to characters. While I think the story faltered in a some instances when it came to characters, I think the themes mostly stood tall all the way through.

I think it ended up giving answers to and looping back to ideas it started with: seeing the good in the cruel world, facing humanity's unending desire for conflict and need to survive, living without regrets, learning to see the world in more complex shades of gray rather than black and whites and learning to do the right thing when needed.

As a mystery box, it does answer pretty much all of the big mysteries of the story and I think I don't really take issue with any of the big answers except maybe one very specific one. The numerous twists throughout the story range from absolutely genius to fairly typical. Again, the foreshadowing gets a lot of praise when it comes to this story, but I think a lot of the story actually isn't planned. Isayama just uses some details in clever ways to make it seem like it was planned.

I think that is a skill in itself that never gets nearly enough credit, but in the end, I think that is the weakest part of the story along with the world itself.

I like the walls themselves and I really like some of the Titan designs, but other than that I never had much interest in the world of AoT on its own. It always has to be connected to characters or themes for me to care. The crystal cave, time sand dunes and certain Titan skeleton are the most interesting settings in the story for me in that sense.

I think it does also fall in the pit of some pretty frustrating dark fantasy tropes, most specifically with a certain blonde female character who had one of the best character arcs in the story that was kind of just thrown under the bus.

It can't quite escape the pitfalls of that genre and it just so happens to be my favourite genre of story, so I constantly see excessive shock value rape, forced pregnancy and gay erasure happen in stories that I think are great otherwise. It's frustrating.

I hoped AoT would be better than that because for so long it was, but it didn't end up being as such.

But at the same time, I think most of its female cast still ended up being pretty great and did some pretty fun archetype-defying stuff. It's a pretty strange dichotomy. It is actually much better than most dark fantasy, but not quite there yet.

This is actually true for the male cast, too, I think. It does some fun playing around with all of the character archetypes.

The story's action scenes are thrilling and some of the action setpieces are really memorable. The final arc really shines in that sense to me. As a horror spectacle it is especially excellent.

Despite sometimes coming across as narmy/unintentionally funny, it still somehow manages to make the Titans a credible threat and this is true throughout the entire story, for different, evolving reasons.

I think the Titans have become iconic for a reason and never lost the luster throughout any of the story.

Along with that, my final point is that it is one of the few stories that sets up a kill 'em all setting that actually kills major characters with substantial focus and commits to it. It also doesn't kill too many characters where no character ever gets to actually develop.

So, considering all of what I listed above, what would my general thoughts be?

I think it still is a story worth checking out.

Personally I obviously love the story as a whole.

But I think any fan of dark fantasy/sci-fi could get a bunch of entertainment out of it: above all I think it is an extremely digestable series.

It's sometimes a very dense read, but I never felt it was a "hard" read. It's a very dark story with a lot of horrible things happening, but I never felt it was difficult to get through even in its darkest of moments.

My favourite characters ended up being Gabi, Reiner, Eren, Pieck, Armin and Annie. Zeke and Hange get a shoutout, too.

My favourite chapters ended up being 71, 82, 100, 122, 131 and 137.

Who are you guys' favourite characters and what are your favourite chapters and why?

Send me an ask explaining why for fun! (Or ask me for my reasonings?)

[n7inky-fanfics]

Lost

CW: Injury, blood, alcohol

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The crew of the Normandy loves Shepard. She is different than any other Commander in the Alliance. She took the time to deeply know every member of her crew. While her name may inspire equal admiration and fear in others, it inspires warmth and loyalty in her crew. Everyone trusts her with their lives, and even on her worst days they never fear her.

That being said, the ship is now uncomfortably quiet and tense. For the first time ever, the crew is walking on eggshells around Shepard. Her own shell has cracked, and to avoid vulnerability she is lashing out at pretty much anyone in her path.

When the shore party returned from Thessia, Shepard maintained silence and a cold demeanour until she had finished her call with the Asari Ambassador. She managed to use the last bit of her usual grace to comfort Liara. Then, she broke. She snapped at Joker and the two of them had it out on the bridge. The argument ended with both parties shaken, but it was clear that they would forgive each other once they had calmed down. The crew had never seen Shepard like this, and it worried them.

It's the end of the main dinner shift, and no one has seen Shepard for hours. James, Garrus, and Kaidan have done their best to reassure the crew. Now, Kaidan is making his way to Shepard's cabin with a dinner plate. He doesn't think she'll eat it, but he has to try. EDI informs him that Shepard's door is currently set to lock out everyone, including him. When he arrives outside the door, he knocks gently. "Hazel, it's me. Please let me in. I just want to help." The red glow of the locked door turns yellow and then green as it is unlocked. It slides open to reveal Shepard's room.

Broken glass and puddles of alcohol cover the floor. The desk chair is upside down in the middle of the floor. A large, bloody dent mars the wall. Shepard sits in the floor, on the right side of her bed, with her head hung low. She's wearing her Alliance t-shirt and a small pair of shorts. Her short, pink hair is a ruffled mess. Her right hand is bloodied and bruised. Pieces of glass from the alcohol bottles stick out of her knees and shins. Despite the strong presence of alcohol, she seems sober. She must have destroyed every bottle she had without drinking a drop.

Kaidan stands in the entrance. "Hazel, you're injured. We should really get you to the med-bay."

"No." Her voice is steady and cold.

"Can I at least get a kit and start getting that hand cleaned up?"

"No. Leave it."

Kaidan sighs deeply. "Fine, but I'm coming further in." She says nothing as he makes his way to the couch, careful to avoid the broken glass. He sits on the couch, hoping she might get off the floor and sit with him. Instead, she remains still. "Shepard, we're worried about you."

"Fuck..." she whispers.

"Hey, it's not your fault. It's Cerberus. You know that."

"Like hell it's not my fault!" She looks up at him, her eyes puffy, red, and furious. Dark energy begins to glow around her. "I should have anticipated this. Fucking Cerberus has their nose in everything. Of course they'd be there, and of course they'd try to use me to lead them to what they wanted. I was a fool and Thessia was lost for nothing! Now, everyone is screwed and we're all going to die because I couldn't get the damn job done!" Her biotics glow brighter, and the field around her swells.

"It's not over yet, Shepard. We'll find them, we'll get the VI back, and we'll end this for good." Kaidan says gently.

"Don't you get it, Kaidan? I failed! The whole galaxy is relying on me to save their asses again, and I failed! I can't do this! I can't save them!" Her voice is raw and strained. She clenches her fists and screams "Fuck!" A wave of dark energy shoots out from her in all directions. Kaidan throws up a barrier, protecting himself from the force of the blast and the bits of glass that flow with it. He can't help but be a little grateful that Cerberus equipped her room with reinforced glass. If they hadn't, the fish tank and model ship display would have exploded. The coffee table, which had flown towards him and bounced off his barrier, settles upside down in front of the bed. Shepard's eyes widen with shock and fear.

"I... I haven't lost control like that since... since I left the Reds... Kaidan, I'm so sorry." Her nose starts to bleed slightly, and tears begin to slide down her cheeks.

Kaidan makes his way to her and pulls her into a tight embrace, leaving just enough room to avoid brushing the glass still embedded in her legs. "It's okay, Hazel. I understand." He holds her close and gently strokes her hair. When she seems to have calmed down some, he pulls back just enough to look at her face while he wipes the tears from her cheeks. She's pale and shaking. Her nose bleed hasn't stopped. She must be exhausted. After all this and the battle on Thessia before, even the best biotic would be. When was the last time she ate?

"Hey, let's get you sitting down." He guides her to sit on the bed and retrieves the food he had brought for her from the couch. "Eat this while I get Dr. Chakwas up here to have a look at you."

"Kaidan, I don't want anyone else to see this." She looks around at the mess she made.

"It's either that or I carry you down to the med-bay. I think you'll collapse if I let you walk it yourself."

She sighs deeply. "Okay, bring her up here."

Kaidan activates the direct link to EDI from Shepard's terminal. "EDI, can you please ask Dr. Chakwas to come up here with the necessary equipment to support an exhausted biotic and remove shards of debris from a person? And please, keep this on a need-to-know basis."

EDI confirms the request and Dr. Chakwas arrives minutes later with a large medical kit in tow. If she's surprised by the state of Shepard's room, she doesn't show it. She follows the mostly cleared path that Kaidan has made with a broom from the supply closet in the bathroom. Shepard is slowly eating the dinner Kaidan brought. "I'm going to get you an IV with fluids and nutrients, then I'll take care of your legs." Dr. Chakwas says.

As Shepard recovers, Kaidan cleans the mess. By the time Dr. Chakwas has gotten all of the glass out of Hazel's leg, the glass has been safely disposed of, the alcohol has been mopped off the floor, and the furniture has been set back where it belongs. "Thank you, Karin. I'm sorry about all this."

"It's my pleasure, Commander. " Dr. Chakwas replies. She places a hand on Shepard's shoulder. "Take care of yourself, now. Remember that I'm here to help. Come see me if you need anything." She packs up her kit and leaves. The room falls silent. Shepard stares into her lap and Kaidan wonders what to say to help her.

Finally, he says "Hey, you should get some sleep." She nods, still looking at her lap. "Goodnight, Shepard." He kisses her forehead gently, then turns to leave.

"Wait..." Her voice comes out barely above a whisper.

"Do you want me to stay?"

"At least until I fall asleep. Please." She's still staring into her lap.

"Okay, Hazel." He says. He climbs into bed and gently guides her to lay next to him. She curls into him and he wraps his arms around her. She drifts off to sleep faster than he had expected. She must be so exhausted. He, too, falls asleep shortly after her.

In the morning, Kaidan awakes to an early alarm and an empty bed. He finds her in the war room, mulling over data for answers. He brings her a coffee before he starts his day. He's sitting in the observation deck, coffee in one hand and data pad in the other, when Dr. Chakwas comes in, locking the door behind herself.

"Kaidan, I'm glad you got me last night. How is she doing this morning?"

"She's back at work, trying to find a solution. She was up well before her alarm, I think. She's stressed, and I doubt she's okay, but she's functional. I'll keep an eye on her, try to make sure she takes care of herself."

"Yes, please do that..." Dr. Chakwas trails off and looks away from Kaidan.

"What is it, Karin?"

"Shepard has always had it rough. You and I both know this to be true. She's always hid her emotions and buried them deep. But dying... it broke her in ways I can't fix. In ways she hasn't recovered from. Then, she lost people. Good people. Hell, she lost Earth. Now she's lost Thessia as well. It's all piling up. She struggles, and I fear that she's reaching a point where all those bottled up pains will all spill out. When she does, we need to be there for her. Please, make sure you're there for her."

She doesn't say it, but Kaidan knows what she's thinking. Be there for her this time. Don't abandon her like you did on Horizon. Be there for her this time. He nods. "I've got her back, Karin."

"Good." Karin nods and takes her leave. Kaidan stares out the window and sighs deeply. This war won't be won without a great cost. He just hopes Shepard doesn't have to pay the bulk of it.