#i have so many thoughts but maybe this is one of the memories when i felt safe (not any more tho)

[sporadicallyanenthusiast]

First of all, let me just thank you for taking the time to explain all of these points! There were many contexts here I didn't know about and it helps make more sense of the story! So thank you so much ❤️

And the thing about Ancient Greek and color is really fascinating! Kudos to the people that first began translating the ancient texts, because oh boy! Hahaha @mari--lace also mentioned in the replies how it is not a consensus on Athena's eye color either. I've only ever heard about the "wine colored sea" point, but never had the thought to dig deeper and learn more. I am definitely going to change that hahaha There are so many interesting things to learn, no wonder so many scientists have been studying the topic for centuries.

I'll have to admit, our poor Menelaus really did suffer a lot, dear Gods. Since my first contact with him was through the Odyssey and some fandom posts, sometimes I forget Agamemnon was his brother. And yes, as much as he loved Odysseus, learning about your brother's death like that can't be easy to digest. And the timeline of how long he stayed shipwrecked was a little fuzzy to me, so it makes sense that after 7 years, his memory would be hazy! I see what you mean when you refer to it as a vision/dream now. I didn't know Aegisthus had them exiled either, so that definitely adds even another layer to the hell Menelaus' life was at that time! We talk so much about Odysseus' hardships, but oh my, poor Mene didn't catch a break either, I'm appalled 😰 I have yet to wrap my mind around the fact the the poems were supposed to be performed out loud as well. A lot of the narrative choices make way more sense when you remember that, it's not just a regular book. I suppose that is why some things sound jarring when you read it for the first time.

And yes! Oh my, I never thought the texts would be so expressive and so warm, you know? We tend to have this idea that people from different times were too cold and distant, but they were still human at the end of the day. Of course they'd be affectionate to the ones they loved! And to be honest, it reminds me of when I read Sherlock Holmes for the first time. It really caught me by surprise how Sherlock and Watson were described and how they talked about each other in such a loving way. I don't know when we stopped writing platonic relationships so beautifully like that, but it truly is a loss to modern literature, in my humble opinion.

And I had no idea about Odysseus' own prophecy! I did know he tried to avoid going to war, but I just assumed it was because he had a newborn son and wanted to be there for Penelope. In that scenario, it really is fair to point out Menelaus trying to warn them wouldn't change much. On that note, Athena herself also told Telemachus Odysseus was alive and he didn't believe her, the Wisdom Goddess hahaha I hadn't thought about that before, but it really does illustrate how hopeless all of them were. If Telemachus didn't believe Athena, you're right, he wouldn't really care about Menelaus' letter either.

I knew about the law of Xenia, so I assumed that was the only reason stopping them from sending the suitors away. I admit I was a tad bit confused why Telemachus didn't force the suitors to leave once he outright had Athena's and Zeus' blessing, so your explanation really helped me make sense of everything!

It's such a nice and sweet detail to have Telemachus and Odysseus going through their journeys at the same time (Telemachus' first journey and Odysseus' last journey, even!), only to meet again at home and taking back control of their palace together. Maybe I teared up a bit, can't deny nor confirm hahahahaha

You are still way more knowledgeable on the topic, and your academic background gives a perspective other people might not have. So I think it's fair to call you as such 🥰❤️

Oh, I see! Sorry, I'm a bit too anxious at times and end up worrying too much that I gave the wrong impression or was rude by accident hahaha

This has been a lovely discussion indeed! Once again, thank you so much for being so kind to explain everything, I'll definitely be reading the books with new perspectives and insights!

Telemachus is so much stronger than me for real. Cause if I had traveled for days, by sea AND land, arrived at the palace of my father's friend and my mother's cousin to humbly ask if they know anything about my missing father and instead of just fucking telling me already, this mf started a monologue about how gay he is for my dad and about the time he captured a God that granted him wishes three, I'd already be telling him to Hurry The Fuck Up. IT'S BEEN TEN YEARS, I DON'T HAVE ALL DAY.

But if the same motherfucker then turned around and told me that he had known FOR YEARS NOW that my dad is trapped on an island AND THE MOTHERFUCKER DIDN'T TELL ANYONE!!!! NOT A SINGLE LETTER!!! I would have already strangled Menelaus with that fucking blond hair of his in front of his wife and children, unhelpful son of a bitch.

[sirfrogsworth]

So, I did know the basic psychology of this. Or I have a good guess at least. But I was too tired and just needed a way to end the post quickly. I am running on fumes nearly all the time and sometimes I just do whatever I need so I can publish something and feel like I accomplished a goal.

But a few people are having issues with what I said.

They mentioned that autistic folks find comfort in repetition and feel like I am calling that sad. I definitely see that as a possible interpretation and I appreciate them mentioning feeling that way.

But I just wanted to use a little bit of energy to address why I don't think I was referring to these normal, healthy coping mechanisms. I mentioned in a reply that my father actually needed to watch the same show over and over because he was too sick to concentrate on something unfamiliar. I get why it can be helpful.

Firstly, I don't know many autistic people who trap everyone they know at a party and play the same 12 songs over and over.

By and large, that aspect was what I found most sad.

But aside from that, I see this repetitive behavior as a very different thing.

In fact, I would say it isn't the behavior itself... it is the *reason* for the behavior.

I see Trump's repetitive behavior more as living in the past, stuck in his ways, being stubborn, and unwilling to try new things. Something I see a lot with elderly conservative folks. They yearn for a better time in the past when they forgot all of the shitty things and only remember happy times. They say music was better in the good old days and refuse to consider any good music could be created outside of that golden age.

Trump is stuck in the 80s and 90s. He was young and healthy and grabbing pussy and fucking models (with and without consent) and going to parties of important people. He was invited to celebrity weddings and was literally Regis Philbin's best friend. Society generally liked him. He was just the goofy rich guy with the hair and many of us thought he was really good at business. Something enhanced by The Apprentice which was heavily edited to make him seem like a business genius. He likes people thinking he is good at business more than he likes being president.

I actually think he hates being president and only ran this time to stay out of jail.

Trump is not well liked as he used to be. No matter how many cult members love and praise him, he remains deeply unhappy. His wife refuses to touch or even kiss him in public. She does this little hand escape thing every time he tries to hold her hand. And when he tries to kiss her she makes him do that French thing where he has to kiss the air near her head.

Every one of his current "friends" is just playing the game. They are hoping their fealty will help them climb the ladder. I doubt he has a single genuine friend left. Except maybe Rudy Guiliani, who turned into a fucking nutball.

He was traumatized from being inches away from death and I think that was the real reason he moved his inauguration inside. A life long New Yorker is pretty well adapted to the cold.

He probably has erectile dysfunction. He is said to need a diaper. People say he smells really bad. Getting old sucks for everyone, but it is devastating to a narcissist of Trump's caliber.

Trump is in a psychological prison of unhappiness and all he has left is his rallies and his parties where he tries to trigger memories of better times. He has the world's thickest nostalgia glasses.

Why do you think he says "Make America Great AGAIN"?

He says he is going to restore the US to its "former glory."

Almost every personal and political goal of his is based on restoring how things used to be. Which is why he so easily fit into the regressive Republican party despite being a New York Democrat for most of his life.

Trump has elderly nostalgia brain and he is stuck in a loop. He is desperately trying to recreate his glory days.

I get why people had an issue with the caption. And I should have waited until I had more energy to clarify.

In the end, this man is stuck in his ways and stupendously uncurious of new things.

And those are terrible traits for a president.

[eempyreall]

♪ 444 𝑏𝑦 𝐴𝑠ℎ𝑙𝑒𝑦 𝑆𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑛𝑎 ♪

༺༺ Devour ༻༻

Oneshot ~ Bonten x Female Reader

Summary ~ You are devastated to learn that your soulmates are power-hungry monsters entrenched in an illegal industry. Despite knowing they only seek to consume your life source, no matter how fast you run, you can never escape fate.

Featuring ~ Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, Kokonoi Hajime, Kakucho, and the Haitani Brothers

Extra Notes ~ *Slight Language Barrier

*I didn’t mean to make this story as angsty as I did.

This story should only be posted under eempyreall on my tumblr and ao3. Report if you see it posted under anyone else but me.

l apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Warning ~

You and the characters are 21+. Although I picture the reader as a black cis-gendered female, physical appearance will not be described at all.

Content within this story may not be realistic or factual.

I do not condone any of the behavior displayed within the story.

There may be dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit content, sexual content, non consensual and/or dubious consensual content, etc.

That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Your breathing is ragged as the platform of your shoes slam against the pavement. Liquid runs down your face as rain pours from the nightly firmament. You rub your eyes to clear the drops of water from your eyelashes so you can continue making your way through the crowd.

You’ve finally escaped your prison with nothing but the clothes on your back. You have no clue what to do other than run through this foreign city.

It was supposed to be a normal trip. An impulsive decision on your part. You decided to stay in Japan for a week just to take a break from your work life back home. Truly, you had grown bored of your everyday routine and decided to up and leave.

Your friend reprimanded you out of love, knowing you tend to act impulsive despite your overthinking tendencies. You ignored the small voice in the back of your mind and said, “Fuck it,” before buying your ticket, packing your bags, and disappearing.

What you hadn’t expected was to finally meet your soulmates.

It was a beautiful night in Tokyo. The lights of the city shimmered as busy people—tourists and natives alike—walked the streets. You strolled alone, leaving a random bar as you made your way through the crowd.

Suddenly, you feel a pull in your chest, eyes locking on the red ribbon that protrudes from the middle of your chest. You watch in awe as it spreads out in front of you, the soul tie flying through the air before splitting into seven strands.

“Seven?!” you breathe out in disbelief. You can’t fathom finding one soulmate, let alone seven.

You spent years bitter and lonely when you couldn’t find them. It was a normal occurrence to find your soulmate on your eighteenth birthday, as everyone else did in your town. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen for you.

Considering you never even felt a slight pull from your chest, it was concerning. You thought that maybe your mate had died tragically, or perhaps you were one of the unlucky individuals who could never find your mate.

You spent many nights crying yourself to sleep, as this occurrence was seen as something very tragic. You wanted to be loved. You wanted to be cared for, and you were tired of the loneliness consuming you. So when you finally felt the pull and saw the ties in a foreign setting, you didn’t hesitate to follow where they led you.

“God, I’m so stupid!” you exclaim as you recall the memory. The months you wasted being nothing but a fucking energy source caused tears to mix with the raindrops on your cheeks.

You feel broken and used. You never knew how awful your soulmates could make you feel. You should’ve known when you figured out who they were—what they stand for and their tainted morals.

“I—is this the real reason why you all accepted me? Am I truly nothing but a pawn to bring you more power?”

Your heart ached, your stomach heavy as you felt nausea build in the back of your throat at the statement Kokonoi just told you. You bring your fingers to your mouth, biting your nails as you await his response, your eyebrows furrowed.

“You are fulfilling an important role for Bonten. You can never leave.”

Your eyes widened as the platinum-haired male kept his arms behind his back, intently eyeing you with an unreadable gaze. You glare at him with anger as you step forward, his office lamp shining the only light into the dark room.

“It all makes sense now. Whenever I gave myself to any of you, I always felt pure weakness after. For days I couldn’t move after you took from me, and yet somehow you all were stronger than ever. You never even bothered to replenish me. You lied. You all lied to me!”

You fight the tears threatening to fall as you feel your face heat up with anger. The cold look Koko gives you really hurts. Where was the man with the content smile who asked you to give him a show when he had you try on new outfits? Where was the man who was a romantic? Had you really been deceived all this time?

“We did what we had to do. In order to receive your life source to the fullest, you must be happy with the circumstances, so we made you comfortable,” he said with impatience in his tone, stepping closer to you.

“You say it like it’s some sort of transaction,” you respond, disgust prominent in your expression and tone. You look at him with wide eyes, a scowl fixed on your face.

“It has always been a transaction, Y/n.”

You continue to run to nowhere, passing by citizens as you shove them out of your way, apologizing swiftly in the process. You knew that you had to at least find a place with a phone.

“I’ve been here for a while, Rin. Don’t you think I should learn more Japanese instead of you guys being my personal translators?”

The purple, mullet-haired man wraps an arm around your waist as he keeps you pinned to his lap, the rest of your legs lying on the seat of the sofa as he leans back in his seat. He ignored you while his lips grazed your neck, sucking the skin as he fed from you, the soul tie wrapped around your figures.

“Rin!” you exclaim as you try to catch his attention, pulling back from him slightly as he sighed, giving you a lazy smirk.

“You don’t need to learn any language. T’s not like you’re around anyone else anyway,” he responds before his hand meets the back of your head, forcing you into a heated kiss as you feel the drain of your energy. You obliged as you weakly kissed back, pathetically yearning for the touch as he was rarely affectionate aside from feeding. The soul tie tightens as the kiss deepens.

You grab your own scalp at the unwarranted flashback. God, you felt so stupid. It had been right in front of you the whole time and yet you missed it. Then again, maybe you hadn’t really missed anything at all. You just ignored that familiar voice in the back of your head. You blamed the unsettling feeling in your stomach on your own nerves and insecurity.

“I don’t want to see this shit anymore!” you scream at Sanzu, shoving his chest as you turn away from the limp body in front of you.

He snatches your wrists, pulling you closer to his chest with the maniacal grin growing on his expression. His enlarged pupils almost replace the blue in his irises.

“Yer gonna fucking kill him, Y/n.”

You preferred when Sanzu was sober.

Although he was still sadistic, he seemed much calmer and more collected. He was especially gentler when feeding from you in the bedroom, despite his erratic and rough behavior when he was high.

"No, I'm not! Let me go, you fucking asshole!" you yell, yanking your arms from his grip, only for him to twist you around and force you to face the kneeling man who was barely conscious.

You glare at the deep lacerations and bruises on the man’s skin as Sanzu forces you to hold the gun. His fingers are wrapped around your trembling hand as he aims the weapon at the male’s head.

Before you can react, he forces your finger to pull the trigger with his own. Your body jolts at the loud noise as the blood from the man splatters on your own legs. You begin to hyperventilate while eyeing the dead human, something you’ve never seen before.

The way the pieces of brain and blood have splattered on the floor — the way the man’s head dropped and his body limped. The dullness of his open eyes. The bullet split his skull open, the skin no longer concealing what’s beneath. His face was almost unrecognizable, split open in the top middle of his features.

Once Sanzu released his grip, you dropped to the floor, body shivering as the hairs on your arms stood straight. You couldn’t stop staring at the bloodied corpse in front of you. The smell made you sick.

Arms hugged you from behind as legs trapped you from both sides of your body.

“You killed that man in cold blood,” he chuckled, lips meeting your neck to begin sucking your energy. The red ribbon forms around both of your figures, locking you in place.

You finally reach a structure that looks inviting, with its lack of people and a bright light.

You rush to the entrance, pushing the door open swiftly. A black-haired man eyes you with concern, his hand gripping a broom.

“I need help!” The man seems to understand your distorted Japanese as he nods before walking toward you.

The palms of your hands cover your eyes as tears smear against your cheeks. Kakucho strokes the middle of your back as you both sit on the edge of the bed.

“I’m tired of being trapped in here, Kakucho! I just feel like this is some sort of trick or something. Do mates really act like this over here? Everything is so much different back home. I feel like a prisoner who’s used for labor here. I can barely feel my arms and legs at times.”

He pulls you closer, causing you to straddle his thighs as he wraps his arms around your waist. You continue to cry on his shoulder before his hands rub up your torso, slightly pulling you back so you’d make eye contact.

“I want you to know that you’re important to us. Without you, we’d be weaker. We need you, Y/n,” he says before pulling you into a kiss, the soul tie returning as it traps you both together.

Your eyebrows furrow at his words. Although they were meant to sound sweet, there seemed to be a hidden meaning—or… was it really that hidden?

“I need a phone!” you exclaim, pointing at the device lying near the register. “I need to call someone! Please!”

He nods before handing you the phone.

“Thank you!” you respond before walking to the back of the store, erratically dialing your friend’s number.

“F—F/n! I need your help!”

You hadn’t been able to contact her for months, considering you weren’t allowed a phone. They told you it was because they couldn’t afford any leaks to their whereabouts, considering what they do for work.

“Y/n? Hey! Are you okay? What’s going on?”

“I found my soulmates! But I’m in trouble! They aren’t who I thought they’d be, and they’ve been holding me captive for months! I—I need you to get me out of here! I have nothing! Please!”

You felt bad for bringing her into this, but you had nothing. No money, no phone, not even an extra pair of clothes. You didn’t have time to grab anything. You had to leave immediately or else you might have ended up killed.

After you stole Ran’s gun when he fell asleep, you immediately rushed to the guard who would be taking you to Mikey’s headquarters, contemplating your next move as you sat in the back seat. They hadn’t noticed the gun in your back pocket nor when you slowly pulled it out while eyeing the rearview mirror. Before they could even begin driving, you shot both men who sat in the front of the car, killing them accidentally considering you had a bad aim. You hadn’t had time to think about the fact you had just murdered two people.

“Y/n,” the voice sings behind you.

You freeze in your spot, eyes widened as your friend calls your name. Slowly, you turn to see Kazutora standing there, a grin on his face. You shakily snatch the gun from your pocket and aim it at his torso.

“Stay away from me,” you hiss with a mix of anger and fear. You watch as the soul tie forms, connecting both of your chests, the red ribbon stretching in the space between you.

“Aww, are ya really gonna shoot me? That’s not very nice,” he chuckles with mock disappointment.

At that moment, you realize that you can’t shoot him.

Why don’t they ever say it back?

The lump in your throat burns as you drop the phone, staring at Kazutora with a crazed look on your face. His grin shifts into a frown as he watches your movements with caution, the ribbon vanishing.

Is this all I’m ever good for?

“Put the gun down, Y/n,” he says calmly.

You scream, your throat gurgling with blood as you try to snatch the scissors back from Ran’s grip, the bathroom floor covered in red as he forces you on your back.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” His smooth voice is filled with unease.

You tried to cut the soul ties by stabbing your own chest. You don’t know how you survived but the medic must’ve arrived in time, rushing you to Bonten’s underground hospital.

“I don’t want to go back,” your voice breaks as your breathing becomes erratic, bringing the gun to your head.

Your eyes shut tightly with your teeth clenching.

Why can’t you just let me go?

Before you can pull the trigger, a hand roughly knocks the gun out of your grasp before yanking you from behind. A hand on your jaw forces you to face them, your teary eyes fully exposed.

Your eyes widen at the crazed look Sanzu gives you, his grip on your jaw tightening roughly as you feel his hand tremble slightly.

Neither of you says a word as he glares down at you before roughly releasing you and snatching your wrist.

Before you can begin to struggle against his grip, a syringe is gently pressed into the skin of your neck. Your shocked gaze shifts to Kokonoi, who simply gives you a disappointed look before darkness engulfs your vision.

"If you try that again, I'll keep you chained to my bed for as long as you live," Mikey warns while you lie barely conscious on your bed.

You stare back into his dark eyes before he lowers himself, his lips pressing against your forehead.

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

For writing requests, could you write something with Wind and an older sister reader?

Glycerine

Pairing: Wind & Reader

Warning(s): None, just some found-sibling fluff!

Notes: Inspired by "Glycerine" by Bush. This is actually a bit angsty so prepare yourself lol.

Masterlist

You found Wind on the beach, sitting on the pale sand as his outstretched legs toed the line between surf and sand. It was a beautiful afternoon on Onset; the sun was high, the sky was clear, and tears had no place on the young hero's salt-swept cheeks.

"Wind?" you called, toes scrunching when they met sun-warmed granules, your boots kicked casually onto the grassy bank meters away. "Buddy?"

There was a gasp. The Sailor's shoulders jumped. He whirled to face you, already rubbing beneath his sea-colored eyes with a fist. He said your name, once, and forced a smile that looked entirely too watery for comfort. "H-Hey... I thought you were teaching Aryll how to sew."

You shrugged, taking a seat beside him. A part of you wanted to cringe at the thought of all the sand you would undoubtedly find on yourself when this was over, but a larger, stronger part whispered that it was worth it. For him. "I was, but she's a quick learner, like someone else I know."

Another soft, uncharacteristic smile, nothing like the blinding grins he usually treated you with. The muscles in your jaw ached as they fought to keep a neutrally-friendly expression. "Yeah," said Wind, sneaking unusually pensive glances at the roaring ocean. "Wild's pretty sharp, huh?"

Your brow furrowed. You scooted an inch closer. "I meant you, kid."

This time, he looked at you. This time, he seemed to see you. "I'm sorry," he apologized. A habit, you assumed, though it was wholly unnecessary. Tone heavy with an emotion that had your heart twisting in your chest, he continued: "I've just been... thinking."

Oh dear, it was one of those days. You planted your hands behind you, using them as makeshift anchors to lean back a few inches. A thick, salty breeze swept through the beach, further ruffling Wind's nest of hair. You debated running back to the house to grab a brush, but refrained. "About?"

Silence. You didn't push, but you did watch. Red-rimmed eyes, fidgeting hands, suspicious stains on the sleeves of his tunic. In so many ways, Wind was a fully-fledged adult. He could fight, swear, and scream, but it was always the little things that reminded you just how young he was.

The hero chewed his lip, knees drawing up to his chest. Your eyes flicked to the pants he wore–a gaudy orange that you weren't sure had come from teenage rebellion or a treacherously misguided fashion sense–and immediately settled on a small rip near the right ankle.

"I know Legend's prickly, but he'll help you with those if you ask," you mused, almost to yourself. Wind immediately glanced at his pants, and a heavy breath slipped past his chapped lips. Too sad, too old; something was definitely wrong.

"Oh, wow, I hadn't..."

'Noticed it' went unsaid, so you decided to fill the silence.

"You're only going to miss her more if you stay out here," the words slipped off your tongue like silk, though they could have weighed more than a thousand sparkling suns. Maybe they did, and you were simply used to the reality where hard things were said without a second glance.

"She'll miss me if I go back," said the young, vibrant, effervescent hero in a tone that was so melancholic that you briefly considered calling Time over from the comfort of the home's sleeping area, but the memory of him downing no less than four bottles of Elixer Soup suggested the eldest hero had plans that didn't include comforting whichever boy decided today was the day for a long-awaited existential crisis.

You sighed. You closed the distance, wrapping your arm around Wind's shoulders. They were broader than you remembered, but you'd be damned if you let the fact that he was growing intercede with hug timeTM. It didn't take long for the Sailor to accept his fate, shoulders finally dropping as he exhaled a breath typically observed in divorced men in their forties. You'd have to tell Warriors that one. "It's hylian nature to miss someone," you said; gently, not because he was a child, but because he needed it. "It means she cares. Means you care."

"Does it?" was Wind's response, and you couldn't help the snort that escaped you.

"Of course it does," you paused to let the meaning sink in, then added with a conspiratorial grin: "Didn't anyone tell you not to question your elders?"

Wind's ears perked up, but you couldn't find it in you to regret giving him an in. "Yeesh, I didn't know you were that old."

"Rude, I'm actually like, super young," you huffed, injecting as much faux irritation into your tone to hide the fact that you were secretly rejoicing the spectacular return of his borrowed dad jokes, because, really, one could only spend so much time around Warriors and Time before they too found themselves corrupted. You shifted in the sand, gaze turning to the sun, hovering above the horizon like a firebrand, and a small part of you was glad Twilight was currently consumed with that tile game Four played almost religiously. "It's getting late," you told the Sailor. Softly. Kindly.

Wind's toes curled in the waterlogged granules. A foaming wave washed forward, crashing against the boy's pruning skin. His response was a mere whisper above the roaring surf. "She cried when I left," a sandy-colored head leaned against your arm, soft enough that you could have pretended it wasn't there at all.

"Everyone cries, Link," you reassured him, though the results had yet to be seen. "It's what makes us hylian."

Silence.

You heaved a breath.

"Give your sister a hug, kid."

A pair of arms wrapped around your waist, and The Hero of the Winds began to cry in earnest.

"How is he?"

You were torn from your thoughts at the sound of Warriors' voice, glancing up at the Captain, who looked just as tired as you felt. His armor was nowhere in sight, leaving him in an off-white button-up and a pair of tan trousers.

A sigh forced itself from your lips, and you finally spared a glance at the sleeping boy on the mat next to you, one of your arms caged in his tight embrace while the other rested on your stomach. It had taken some convincing--and a hell of a lot of luck--to get the youngest hero into bed, and you hadn't the heart to tug yourself away when he latched onto you, face buried in the soft flesh of your bicep.

"Better," was your response, the ghost of a yawn tugging at the heels of your words. "If you couldn't tell, he's had a rough day."

The floor creaked as Warriors got comfortable beside you, keeping a respectful distance as he settled on one arm, gazing down at the both of you. "I'll say," he murmured, quiet enough that you hardly heard it. A pause, then: "You should rest."

This time, you didn't bother stifling your yawn, uncaring of how it might negatively affect your case. "Someone's gotta keep watch, Wars."

The Captain was unimpressed, raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow in obvious disagreement. You were almost jealous. "Yes, me. You're going to have just as rough a day as the Sailor if you don't sleep."

You rolled your eyes, hoping to draw things out as much as possible. You didn't want to leave Wind alone, you couldn't. "Pshh, who needs sleep?"

The floor groaned just as Warriors opened his mouth to offer what you assumed to be a spectacularly-planned rebuttal, only to let it click shut when Time's rumbling baritone filled the small room. Fuck. "What's this about sleep?"

Warriors cerulean eyes found yours, and it was a battle unto itself not to hiss at the smug glint that filled them. He nudged your shoulder, and you went ramrod straight, praying it wasn't enough to disturb Wind. "Just trying to convince a certain someone that insomnia isn't the answer."

That jerk!

"Is that so?" You could practically feel Time's gaze on you. Piercing, all-knowing; like a fucking owl. The floor groaned once more, and you turned your head to watch Time settle on your other side, directly behind Wind. Between him and Warriors, this was turning into a very unnecessary hylian sandwich. "The Captain is correct," said the eldest hero in a tone that sounded like he was laying down a law rather than talking about something as mundane as needing sleep. "Rest. We'll take turns."

"After you drank all that sleepy-time soup? I think not," you shot back, feeling a bit braver than usual. Maybe it was the night, or maybe it was because some twisted part of you wanted to be the only one to protect the youngest hero. "You two need it more than me. It's hard being old."

The Captain sputtered in quiet disbelief. Legend would be proud. "You think I'm old?"

"Actually, the word I meant was 'ancient'–"

"You're so lucky the Sailor's here."

"What're you going to do, lecture me to death–?"

"Quiet, you two," Time interjected, sounding every bit the old man that he was. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, allowing yourself to fall silent for Wind's sake. Warriors made a huffing sound, but also quieted, shuffling to lean against one of the beams protruding from the wall. "There's no reason for all of us to stay up," ugh, that's why you were doing it for them! The Hero of Time said your name like an errant child, followed by a very punctuated: "Go to sleep."

There was no fighting with Time, you knew. He would win, and you would still be on your back next to the youngest hero whether you wanted it or not. Fucking heroes, always trying to look out for others before themselves, and Hylia knew the boys practically drooled at the prospect.

With a drawn-out sigh that rivaled Wind's in supposed age, you let your head fall against the woven mat, a springy thing that would have coaxed you to sleep hours ago had it not been for the boy clinging to your arm. "Fine," you relented, a mere breath in the inky, candle-shadowed expanse of the room. Eyes shut, but not asleep, you mumbled: "Night, Wars, Time."

Warriors' arm stretched over your stomach, his hand reaching to pat down the hem of Wind's shirt as it stretched up, revealing pearly flashes of the Sailor's skin, warm with sleep and rising with steady breaths, not unlike the gentle rocking of a ship upon the Great Sea's waters. Even after the youngest hero's modesty had once again been preserved, the Captain didn't move his arm, and you suspect its purpose was as much to keep you in place as it was to correct a potential wardrobe malfunction. "You're a jerk," you mumbled in half-hearted exasperation.

The Hero of Warriors' chuckle was loud in your ear. "Takes one to know one."

"Children," said Time from the other end of the sandwich, and you rightfully shut up. Fuck him, you could wield a sword as well as any of the others, which meant you were basically an adult by those criteria alone. Plus, you were dashingly attractive and that had to count for something!

Whatever, dad, you thought with an imaginary eye roll, because the eldest hero practically had eyes on the back of his head. He would know, and you were in no mood for another lecture after the one you received for aiding Wild in his quest to ride animals that were most certainly not meant to be ridden.

Sleep never came easy when you were worried, but something was different. While Warriors wasn't mashing himself to your side like Wind seemed intent of doing, the Captain was no less warm, and it was a battle not to hum when an errant insect brought him scooting closer, the heat from his chest soaking into your other arm. It was becoming increasingly obvious: you were trapped by these lovable dorks, and when Time's miraculously un-armored arm swung over to plant across the three of you, the deal was all but sealed.

Darkness blackened the corners of your vision, and the last thing you saw was Wind's sleep-soaked grin uptick in the candlelight.

Someone was calling your name.

You cracked your weary eyes open, ears straining to catch the ghostly mumble of your name; a strange, simultaneously booming and whispered call that seemed to ring in the very recesses of your eardrums. A soft groan left your mouth, only for something to slap down on your face.

"Shh, shh, they'll wake up!"

...Huh??

There was something– nay, someone above you. Someone with stormy blue eyes, wavy blonde hair, and–

"Wind?"

Wind grinned at the sound of his name, his teeth glimmering porcelain in the faint candlelight. His hands returned to your shoulders, shaking softly, and you realized you were still in bed, surrounded by the limp, sound-asleep frames of Time and Warriors, the latter of whose arm was still slung tightly around your stomach. "That's me," he whispered, nearly vibrating with excitement. Ominous, but you were here for it. And, as if the Goddesses themselves had heard your plea for answers that weren't complete horseshit, he continued: "I thought of a new game to play! But I need to test it out first."

Ah, right. If anyone liked games, it was Wind, and you were his all-too-gullible partner-in-crime. Only, these types of exchanges usually occurred at respectful hours of the morning or afternoon, prompting another, less exhausted groan from your mouth. "Can't this wait until morning, bud?"

The Sailor paused to consider the conundrum. "I just..." fuck, he was bringing out the wet baby seal eyes. Little bastard knew you didn't stand a chance. "I don't want to forget it..."

As predicted, your resolve crumbled in the face of his patented sad animal eyes. "Okay, okay," you relented, sitting up on your elbows, keeping your tone especially low to keep the adults trapped in their slumber. "But you have to help me get past Wars, yeah?"

"Duh," was his response, and you had no choice but to crack an equally conspiratorial grin as the Sailor helped you lift Warriors' arm up. He held it as you slid free, snagging a stack of blankets from the corner as a decoy.

Until the Captain grunted, expression scrunching as he registered the change in warmth, and your soul nearly burst out of your chest. Gently, shoving Wind to the side, you bent down to whisper in the Captain's ear in your best barmaid sexy voice: "I'll be just a moment, sugar, then we can continue where we left off ;)"

Another grumble left Warriors mouth, but it was significantly softer, and punctuated by a smacking noise as he attempted to kiss the blanket pile, which would have made for spectacular blackmail, if you were being honest. Where was Wild's Shiekah Slate when you needed it?! With the Captain distracted, you slipped around him, linked arms with Wind, and skipped into the pseudo-darkness like the troublemakers you were.

Once outside, you turned to the Sailor. "So! What's up, buttercup?"

"Well..." and thus began Wind's explanation of his latest 'game', which honestly sounded more like an excuse to run around on the beach than something with actual rules, but, once again, you were here for it. Until he got to the part about rolling in the waves in the dark. Especially when he got to the part about rolling in the waves in the dark.

When he was done, you placed your hands on your hips and grinned like the responsible older sibling you totally were. "That sounds super unsafe, so it'll totally be fun!"

Wind's mirroring grin could have outshone the sun, which was especially helpful considering it was nearly pitch black outside. "Right?! I bet we can get Wild to play today, too!"

"Wait, don't you mean tomorrow?"

"Huh? It's totally today; you were asleep for a while."

"...Wind, were you watching me sleep?"

"What? No! That was Time," the Sailor jammed his thumb into his chest, not passing up an opportunity to throw shade on his brothers. "I have manners."

You raised your hands in faux distress. "Ah, my mistake, good sir! My deepest apologies."

"You should be!" There was a roar, and Wind's head instantly whipped to the foaming surf. "Okay, let's go play before Time and Warriors wake up."

"I'd love nothing more," you patted his shoulder, subsequently raising your palm to meet his in a high-five that rang through the beach like a particularly juice ass slap. Not that you knew what one of those sounded like, per se, but with Legend and Warriors' playful rivalry still going strong, you didn't need to.

"Last one to the waves is a crab!" Wind yelled, dashing towards the waves, with you hot on his heels as an answering whoop tore from your throat.

The game without rhyme or rhythm carried well into the night, until the early morning light bathed the crashing ocean and footstep-marred sand, kicked up from hours of play. Your legs ached from running, and you were sure even Sky could have overtaken you in a race at this point, but it didn't matter. You were free, and you were having fun.

"Can't catch me!" Wind screamed in delight when you tried to tag him, dancing just out of reach like the agile little shit that he was, but you had been preparing for this moment your entire life, using the last of your energy to perform a sort of lunging dive, catching him in the stomach and sending the both of you rolling into the shallow waves, coughing and sputtering as you fought to catch your breath, soaked from head-to-toe and damn proud of it.

"You were saying, you slippery munchkin?!" you giggled, nose throat sore from all the saltwater inhaled over the course of the night. The Sailor sorted, reaching into the shallows and flicking a clump of seaweed at your face. You shrieked and dodged spectacularly, but he was ready with another, larger wad that managed to smack against your cheek, effectively sending you into another half-sputter, half-laughing fit as gallons of saltwater soaked the thick fabric of your tunic and trousers.

"Eat weed, loser!"

"Never!"

Your hand sunk into the sand and, before you knew it, a large clump of it was flung in Wind's direction, catching him in the blue-clothed chest.

Wind gasped.

"Oh, it's ON."

The following ten minutes devolved into what could only be described as a sand-ball fight to the death. Sand was thrown, dignity was abandoned, and you were absolutely positive you would be picking granules out of your holes and hair for the next month, but the sound of his laughter was worth every single grain.

It was only when the front door to the house slammed open and a near-frantic Warriors stumbled outside did you pause, sand pouring from your half-cocked hand. "WHERE–" the Captain caught sight of the two of you, covered in dirt and grinning like the maniacs you were, and simultaneously looked like ten years of his life had been spontaneously snatched away. Rumor has it his groan could be heard on the next island over. "–oh, you've got to be kidding me..."

"I'm a crab!" You called over the waves, eager for yet another opportunity to screw with him.

"Actually, you're a–" Warriors paused, placing his hands together like he was about to pray that your stupidity didn't infect him, too. His mouth moved with exhausted desperation: "Calm, Link, calm."

You and Wind exchanged a glance, but it was quickly broken when Time's silhouette filled the doorway, face curiously blank as he surveyed the scene over the defeated captain's shoulder.

A beat passed.

Time turned on his heel. Time went back inside, steps heralded by Warriors' betrayed whimper. You and Wind high-fived.

It wasn't always easy staying positive when it came to life, but with them, you were willing to try.

Whew! That was a long one! I was super inspired for this, and I hope y'all enjoyed!!

A 'lil extra for y'all:

"Time to get back to bed... sugar," Warriors visibly cringed at your appointed nickname, arms crossed over his chest, and Time looked a hairs-breadth away from smacking his palm to his forehead in exasperation.

You and Wind exchanged a glance that spoke a thousand words. Ignoring the vexed shouts from the older heroes, the Sailor jumped on your back and the two of you sped off into the sunrise, whooping like the madlads you were.

[cryptid-killjoy]

Willem was always going to be a guy down for a HTH break in. It was just the sort of adventure Wild Will was in toespecially if it ended in chilli dogs.

Willem also wasn't sure he ever thought of himself as a father figure to any of the dolls yet. Caretaker? Yes. Father, somehow, he didn't see himself as that even of his own creations even if that might have been somewhat true. Thoughts for another, perhaps. Emotions that hadn't quite matured or been labeled, perhaps.

"A mother? Hmm. I guess I can see that. I'll think about that."

He left it at that for more pondering later. What he knew for sure and did not have to think any longer on was Figaro looked cool as fucking get out with a firearm like that. It straight up suited them. Willem decided it was hot and gave it a double glance, maybe two.

"You look like a video game... in a cool way."

The compliment felt needed.

But moving along into the Livvy's home. Willem wouldn't know Figaro would have expected, but he knew what to expect with how many times he'd made these excursions to check the dolls. He navigated the home with ease.

Figaro wasn't wrong for thinking it was sad. Willem knew it was. It was why they didn't mind when Figaro first chose to stay at the ball. Sad things like this were often easier done in private. Modesty for humility. Smalls said no judgement and Will felt safe enough he wasn't unaware of how it would come off.

They laughed about the shrine and even turned red to some extent.

"I'm pretty sure she's my number one hater wherever she is now and has a voodoo doll of me and with its nuts in a vice on a Battleship board and keeps tossing it overboard. I have a theory they had something to do with Pan's flood making the blizzard melt day randomly a double hard moment for us because only she would hate me enough right now to want to make every moment of my life as hard as it could possibly be."

Even saying his theory out loud made him laugh.

"I'd have deserved it though. From her mind. We broke up after sailing on a ship across the water. Trying to drown me just makes sense to me. Poetic Justice. Whatever better form of justice is there?"

Despite it being oddly morbid he said it playful with humoral candor.

Then Figaro agreed to head on out and search for Livvy's uncle's closet.

"Okay, that's good. You come find me then."

He was going to go looking for Smalls, but Smalls said they'd come back when they were done, so they changed their mind and would wait for Smalls to come back to them.

When Figaro headed out Willem went along with his routine of tinkering with each shelf. He'd careful take ever figurine and doll off one shelf at a time and neatly lay them on the bed while he dusted the shelf and then cleaned the figures themselves before standing each one back one at a time. As he did this, he'd make sure any soft ones were fluffed and their dresses were tidied, shoelaces or bows flounced, and hats properly straightened. If Livvy had told him anything particular about the doll, he'd go through that memory in his mind to pay it homage to what sentimental value it held in the secrets of their faces. To the one he had no information he sent the same appreciation because there's sentiment in the bond of a knick knack, a memento, a toy, that's far stronger than just a memory.

He once considered memories like pages in a book of who a person is. They can be turned and re-turned again. He could read the same chapter more than once as many times as he liked for fun, but never truly relive it. A souvenir or memento of a memory is simply that, a small token. It could be thrown away or lost, but the memory still exists. The chapter can still be filed through in one's recollection. A doll however, a toy with a face, for some reason feels different to Willem than some token. Even silent it looks back. It gives the feeling it experienced all your eyes saw in that same memory. It experienced what you did. A shared experience becomes a friend not a souvenir. One can look into those non-moving eyes and think they were there. Maybe it was nuts? However, if you were a person who could also take those same dolls and bring them to life if he wanted the idea might not seem so farfetched. Lifeless dolls might seem more important than just some old attachment that needed to be let go of.

To Willem's credit he hadn't gone as far as bringing any of Livvy's dolls to life, but it had entered his mind. He was under no delusion he'd ever see Livvy again and he didn't want his old girlfriend's living dolls being a drain on relationships. He was bright enough to realize that could be a deal breaker moving forward. He just hadn't gotten to the fully moved forward part yet.

Okay, so he'd done a little messing around. Zero existed. Even Piper existed, more new, Nutmeg. These were not people who were ever going to be in Willem's life in a permanent way. They were when the mood hit kind of friends. These were complicated friends, not actual relationships.

All that said, none of it was on its mind now. Just the dolls were. When he finished with the cleaning, he'd pick up that mermaid again and sit down on the bed. It had a tendency to get the most favor and longest time being held. It had the vast majority of memories attached for Will. He laid back with it. He sat it on his chest and admired its face as he relaxed. He'd glance over at the shelf and give it a smile. Then he'd smooth over the mermaid's glossy hair. Motions like had a way triggering other past memories like turning Livvy into a doll at Barbie and Ken's party. He remembered the texture of her hair and the sand. He recalled the paints. He could relive every brush stroke of the artwork like muscle memory as porcelain slid under his his fingertips.

He sang one of the lines to the song he wrote Livvy just above a whisper. "If you don't feel that this is real then I'll just walk away. Way deep down I know I found the that proof that love can save. So take some time to figure out what this thing is all about. I hope some day you feel it too. I promise that I'll try to love the best I can. You make me a better man. Whatever this is leading to. For the first time I'm gonna listen to my heart."

Then he took a big breath and sat up. He kissed the little figurine. "I guess it all led me to you pretty lady. I saved you from the boxes. I can live with that."

Then he shined up her face one more time before placing her back in her proper place knowing full well his heart would always be with the dolls. It would be a big enough win for him.

"Thanks for being a part of that." He added as he tapped one finger tip on the glass after closing the shelving unit back up.

It left a smudge.

"Woops."

So, he went to Windex the last spot before he was completely done with the room. He cleaned it spotless enough for a bird to smash into. He was pleased with his work. He joked to the dolls, "Lucky this thing isn't a patio door."

“Now that would be entertaining to see. Especially if you two do the awkward dance of trying to pass each other but stepping in each other’s way,” Figaro said. Bright sides, sunny sides, you had to have the light to be able to have the dark too. Figaro tried to keep the balance.

Chili Dogs. Now that sounded good. Just the thought of it was enough to get the hunger going, the saliva flowing, despite being in this stink of a place. “Fuck it, we’re sneaking into Halloweentown one of these days. Once you try one of their Chili Cheese Dogs, your life isn’t going to be the same.”

Hansel as a handsome guy though? “It’s weird,” They said. “I feel somewhat … almost maternal over him? Guess I kind of am a parent now.”

What an odd thing to think about. What an odd thing to realize. In Funkytown, the dynamic hadn’t really changed. Figaro was in charge but hardly ever acted on it. It felt - wrong, somehow, to try to take control, having watched Gepetto give them their own autonomy, their own thoughts, their own actions. So Mr Punch kept being uncontrollable. Hansel kept living in the walls and being a bit of a pervert, his human body still having human feelings, thrusting against a wall while watching through a peephole.

“Yup, keeping this on me,” They agreed. It was not a good smell. Eventually all of the flesh and organs would rot away and then it would just be bones, which didn’t have as bad of a smell, but right now, it was pretty rank. The place needed some sort of Fabreeze cleansing. Or maybe Frank and Delta spent so much time up in their castle, they didn’t even know that it smelt so bad down here. They needed some sort of comment box, in Figaro’s opinion.

All of their information about guns came from movies and videogames. They knew at the very least to turn on the safety for now, until they would need it. “All I need are some green plants, and we’ve gone totally Resident Evil in this bitch.”

Great minds think alike. Figaro was also all about upgrading their setup at home. Getting a bigger TV, though the vintage one had been moved into their room, because they weren’t going to get rid of Gepetto’s things, other than giving some to Willem, of course. But it felt like he was one of Gep’s kids too. The stuff was THEIRS. Not just inherited by Fig. Better sound system, more gizmos and gadgets.

Figaro let Willem take the lead since they didn’t know their way around the apartment block. They had the gun in hand, waiting for a chance to use it. To ‘blast them’ as Thomas would say. Their knowledge of annoying curses and animal speak wasn’t the most useful for a zombie situation, except to get birds and other animals to let them know where the zombies themselves were. They had to bring out the big guns.

They didn’t say anything about Willem having the key. It just made sense, given that he came to visit the dolls. Others might have found it a bit romantic, perhaps, that he kept visiting his ex’s apartment, taking care of her things. But Figaro just found it practical.

The two of them went through the building, checking around corners, making sure that there wasn’t something waiting on just the other side. But it looked as if the building had mostly been cleaned out. Any life that was here that would have drew the zombies in, disappeared a long time ago. Still, once inside of the apartment, Figaro turned the lock on the door to feel a touch safer.

Though they were anxious to get at that Hawaiian shirt collection that hopefully had not been eaten away from bugs or faded by light coming in through the windows, they were curious about Livvy’s room, and would follow Willem inside. It wasn’t exactly what they had expected.

The shelves were new, and taken care of, that much was clear. It wasn’t covered in dust and cobwebs like everything else. The dolls seemed to be in a place of prevalence. They stood out, like they were an important item in a video game or something, rendered more predominantly.

“I’m a little surprised,” They admitted, hands on their hips, looking at the girliness of the room, the teal color that was on everything, the bit of a mess of clothes from when Livvy was deciding what to pack all that time ago for the big boat trip. “I was expecting a huge shrine to you,” They said, looking to Willem. “Or did you get embarrassed and take that down?”

They weren’t trying to be funny or teasing, that’s genuinely what Figaro thought that they would walk into when it came to Livvy’s space. A whole wall plastered with pictures of Willem, maybe some with Fig but with Fig’s face cut out or something like that. Pieces of his hair, his toenail clippings, on a shelf. This was a voodoo town after all, it wouldn’t be hard for some white girl to get their hands on some sort of love potion or DIY-Voodoo-Doll set. But it was actually pretty … relaxed in here.

They were watching Willem more than the dolls after that, making sure that he was going to be alright while doing this. But maybe it was something that he just needed to do, the way that some people just needed a big cry. Something about it being cathartic.

‘Miss her if she comes back.’ ‘Don’t get too lonely.’

It was … kind of sad.

“Yes, I’ll leave you guys to talk and gossip and … do whatever it is that y’all do in here, no judgment,” They said, putting their hands up and backed out of the room slowly. “I’ll come find ya once I finish raiding that closet.”

[putschki1969]

Kalafina Anniversary Live 2025 Pamphlet HQ Scans Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Google Drive Link

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Interview with Hikaru

--This will be Kalafina's first live performance in about seven years. How did you feel when you found out that the concert was going to be held?

"Various emotions were going through my mind at the same time, but to sum it up in one sentence, I felt like 'we can do this'. I was beyond happy that the three of us would be able to sing Kalafina's music again, that it was actually becoming a reality. Six years had passed, so I was excited to see what would happen if the three of us sang together again."

--How did you feel when the three of you first got together to sing during a live rehearsal?

"Along with nostalgia, it brought back memories of Kalafina's chorus work. When the three of us sing together, it just feels so right. Over the past six years, I've had the opportunity to sing with many different people while working solo, but I think there is a unique sound and energy in each song that only the three of us can create."

--What did the three of you talk about during the first rehearsal?

"We had a packed schedule for our rehearsals so we weren't able to have any particularly deep discussions. We thought, 'let's just try to get in tune with each other,' so we spent our time singing with the image of regaining the feeling of being Kalafina."

--Were you able to quickly get back into the swing of things with Kalafina?

"I immediately remembered how it felt back then. However, because we had been apart for a while, even though I was able to regain that feeling, I felt that it would take a little more time to express those feelings through my singing. Those first few rehearsals really helped me see what I needed to do from now on."

--So it was necessary to re-examine what you need to do to sing as a member of Kalafina?

"That's right. We have a renewed sense of determination to do our best. Naturally, the time and experience each of us has gained working as solo artists comes into play when we get together as a trio to sing, but beyond that, there is something unchanging about Kalafina. It may be an exaggeration to say it's almost like a chemical reaction when we come together, but I want to take on the challenge once again to see how beautiful a melody we can create as a trio."

--What do you think of Wakana and Keiko's vocal appeal?

"There are many singers in the world who can produce beautiful high notes and low notes, but these two are really special to me. Wakana has always been said to be great at expressing transience and sorrow, but what's even more impressive is that her voice is not simply delicate but also has energy and strength to it. Keiko has a deep, enveloping voice, and her charm is that you can feel so much love in her cool low notes. Also, there's a new feeling to her voice that I didn't feel during the 10 years she was with Kalafina, maybe it's because she's been doing solo work that I'm able to feel this."

--The current Kalafina probably combines the unchanging things from when you were singing as a trio, and the growth that has come with your solo activities.

"Yes, I think that everyone who comes to our live show might feel this way. But of course, it's all subjective and everyone is free to feel whatever they want so even if you feel like 'Kalafina never changes no matter how much time passes' or 'this is a completely new and mature Kalafina', we will be happy. We have had 10 years as Kalafina, and 7 years by ourselves, all of this has made us who we are today."

--Now, what do you think about the appeal of Kalafina's music?

"The songs were written to suit our voices, and I think they are unique songs that make the most of each of our individual strengths. That's why it feels lonely to sing them by myself. When I first went solo, I sang Kalafina songs during my live concert and it felt so lonely that I stopped singing them after that *laughs*. Because these songs were written for the three of us to sing, I simply want to fulfill the role of Hikaru that the songs require, and I believe that by doing so, the songs will resonate more with everyone."

--What are your thoughts about all the fans who have continued to love Kalafina for such a long time?

"So many people have supported our activities over the past 10 years, and there are so many people who have continued to listen to Kalafina's music even after that, I have nothing but gratitude for them. Kalafina is really special to me, and I think that everyone has always known this. I want to convey to everyone at the live in January, 'thank you for waiting for us all this time.'"

--Finally, please tell us your thoughts about today's pamphlet photo shoot.

"It felt like it had been so long since the three of us had been together like this, we remembered the feeling of taking group photos, the distance and subsequent intimacy we felt when we were told to 'get a little closer together' *laughs*. And we even got to talk about personal things in between takes, it really felt like we were continuing right where we had left off with no gaps in between."

[infinialtairs]

Jade and Pey'j are always ready to fight back! Mess with one of us? You're going to have to mess with both of us! 📸🐗

Sily artwork of them hanging out! but also I have a little surprise for all jade and pey'j fans... I have finished write a full google document for Jade and Pey'j characterizations! along with backstory and trivia for my own version of designs for them ^^ Keep in mind that I'm not a writer and I won't claim as such, I simply wanted to write down my own interpretations and ideas onto them. I'll just copy down ALL 7 PAGE texts onto here so...If you don't want read any of it, feel free to skip

Captain Laserhawk: Jade and Pey’j Rewritten

! Disclaimer ! 

This takes both Beyond Good and Evil version and Captain Laserhawk version into one somewhat coherent version of them as I’m not a fan of how Jade and Pey’j were treated in the series and I simply just write my own takes on the characters and ideas of more in depth into their characters. You can disagree, or dislike my takes on them and you can also give a suggestion or your own opinion on them. I only seek to approve my skill in writing my thoughts and ideas through words.

Synopsis

Jade and Pey’j - the only remaining part of a family who are striving for a fulfilling life in a dystopian world with many deceptions easily hidden behind closed doors and TV screens. They both managed to live in a garage where Pey’j does the repairs of vehicles and as well as creating his own little projects of inventions of which he never shared them into the public eye, only to Jade.

Jade

Jade is quite a spontaneous journalist, martial artist, cyclist, and a person with so many side hobbies that she sometimes pursues, even if she’s not exactly good at a lot of them. She can be a gal friend at parties or a cry on the shoulder when someone’s in need, she's a little too empathetic at times with how she reacts with others struggles and often feel the need to always be helpful and supportive. Despite all the hobbies she has been trying out, she isn’t the best example of a patient person, she will always try to learn everything in a single day and then getting overwhelmed or frustrated when something doesn’t go her way. As a journalist she often writes articles about covers essentially what the Face of Eden Rayman talks about in his show, but with a Jade’s touch - her own perspectives and opinions. She also covers smaller topics that seem to fall deafen on people’s ears and some conspiracy theories that she may not entirely believe in, but she's a very curious person and fascinated by those out of reach theories.

She’s very close with Pey’j ever since her parents passed away in the Wasteland war when she was a teen, and with how much her parents trusted Pey’j - a boar hybrid against all odds, she knew she wouldn’t be alone in the cruel world of Eden. She often helps Pey’j with the repairs and sometimes even does the work for him whenever Pey’j gets sick or overworked. One thing she always does and loves on a daily basis is taking photos of everything she comes across as interesting, maybe mostly taking funny pictures of Pey’j in his vulnerable state. She wants to keep memories with Pey’j as she regrets never taking any photos of her parents and wishing she could remember her memories with her parents. But as long as she and Pey’j are there for each other, She’s content with the family she currently has as Pey’j adoptive uncle.

Pey’j

Pey’j is opposite of Jade in a lot of ways - he’s stubborn, grumpy and often disrespectful towards strangers. He just gets tense around people who he doesn’t know and especially his promise to Jade's parents to always look out for their daughter, it only made him more overprotective towards Jade. Beneath all of the tough and blunt manner, he’s caring and sympathetic. Pey’j will open up about his personal upcomings as a boar hybrid, his family, his hobbies, and of course bragging of Jade’s talents, he’s also the pure example of terrible but in own charming ways of humor, somewhere between dad jokes and dark comedy. Pey’j has always dreamt about becoming an inventor for Eden, inventing technologies to help those in crisis instead of relying on a government that seeks more of the loyal and control than provide support for the citizens. But alas he has a lot of difficulties and responsibilities to even begin chasing his dream, so he’s sticking with what he has been doing for decades - repairing vehicles and gadgets for cheap prices for good qualities.��

Pey’j often cooks meals and gives out supplies to the homeless people as advised by Jade, since she’s always busy and staying up late writing journals and cases and in her own words “You gotta work with your communications too, old fart!”. Pey’j hasn’t all been too interested in relationships or even had a mind crossed about “marriage” and “having his own kids” due to his own fears of not being able to offer enough on the table, Pey’j believes that he has better things to do in his own opinion. Beside doing mechanics and inventing his small projects. Pey’j is also on occasion curious with hobbies, in particular chess has been his favorite pastime, usually he plays it with Jade or sometimes his acquaintances if in a right mood. Pey’j will deny being competitive about chess but each time he loses a game of chess, he will insist for another round until he personally wins! It can take from another 30 minutes to many hours depending on his bad luck.

Backstory

Jade’s parents as any others who were previously citizens of the USA see their country turning into a dystopian country now known as “Eden”, with no longer 50 states but 5 Mega Cities divided. They weren’t thrilled or accepting of the changes, with far advanced technologies and AI intelligence. Despite it all Jade’s parents made sure that their first born child would have a good life in a very new world that they also have to navigate through together. Jade’s parents were working hard in their jobs as one unexpected day coming across a troubling boar man hybrid out in the streets, clearly in some distress Jade’s parents decided to help out the hybrid and upon learning about the boar hybrid name “Pey’j”, they weren’t sure about this so called “Pey’j” with the news uprising about “Hybrids will take care of your pesky workflow and we as Eden community are grateful for that!” but they gave the benefit of a doubt as they were the only family remaining and alone with their daughter Jade. Maybe perhaps they could use some help.

Jade’s parents and Pey’j came along very well, with Pey’j skilled talent of repairing their old equipments around the house and become quite like a uncle figure to little Jade which gave Jade’s parents a relief that they could be a family - a fullfit family that may not seem big or exciting but all it mattered that they weren’t going to leave each others behind. Jade was quite a reckless child for both Pey’j and Jade’s parents, always hyperactive and was more into sports, bugs, and many other interests all at once! But Jade studied pretty alright at minimum in school and even took an extra class of material arts, both her own choice and a skill that Jade’s parents thought Jade would incredibly need in the future. Around the time Jade entered into High school, Jade’s parents had been fired from their original jobs due to some complications and the terms of services that they didn’t agree with. They have hidden that fact from Jade and Pey’j to avoid any unnecessary stress on their family, so with desperate attempts and tired of Eden’s corporate policy, they joined the DedSec organization to protect against corrupted ways of Eden. Jade’s parents both worked as hackers in coding into TV stations over Eden before eventually the event that they all were expecting for… ”The Wasteland War” as Eden militaries sent out missiles and soldiers towards wasteland and so Jade’s parents were rushed to quickly message to Pey’j about the situation and ask for a promise to protect their daughter Jade if they weren’t making it out alive. As the news broke out about the now abandoned Wasteland all across Mega Cities, Pey’j knew that Jade’s parents sadly didn’t make it due to no contact or logs ever since that sudden text and so Pey’j made sure to take care of Jade and support her as much as he can in his garage. Jade knew that they couldn’t afford to attend any college or universities but Jade did lots of freelance commissions on photography specifically before then switching to write journals and articles of niche topics around Eden. Jade and Pey’j were living somewhat sustainable living conditions despite all odds until an unexpected interaction with unidentified individuals in the alley not far from Pey’j garage as they were trying to capture Pey’j and Jade with Pey’j fell first defeated. Jade tried her absolute best to fight back but quickly grew weak and got cornered before getting knocked out cold.

Jade and Pey’j woke up in odd white room with a wrestler trying to break a metal locked door and a cyborg still sleeping out cold on the mattress, with absolute no clue where they were or what to do before eventually a woman walked in or “Warden” as they later found and that they were all being held captured and hidden from outside of the world in Supermaxx, with needing to obey the missions at hand or else their head explodes with discovering they do indeed have bombs inside their heads. Jade and Pey’j along with the others into a group as Warden calls it “The Ghosts”, they knew the stakes they had in a sudden shift of lifestyle but currently Jade and Pey’j will work it as long as they are always sticking by their sides.

Trivia

(This is mainly trivia about my own design version of Jade and Pey’j and doesn't always match up to either Beyond Good and Evil nor Captain Laserhawk versions so keep that in mind.)

The brown jacket that Jade wears is gifted by Pey’j as a first present she ever got from her adoptive uncle. It used to be too big for her before eventually once growing up she’s constantly seen wearing that jacket.

Pey’j red eyes gadgets were invented by himself to read and analyze better as once he got older, his eyes just weren’t as good in eye sight as in his youth.

 Jade has two different styles of fingerless gloves. Her left glove is green, more geared up for cycling and her right glove is a simple black thin fingerless glove. She did have at one time both green geared up finger gloves before during once in her practice of learning to ride a bike she lost her right fingerless glove upon falling over and Pey’j gave her a replacement for a simple black fingerless glove.

Pey’j has a right cut off tusk due to one intense gang fight he had along before he met Jade or Jade’s parents. He always loves re-telling that tale and expresses his anger.

Jade and Pey’j have almost shared birthdays. Jade’s birthday is 24th of May and Pey’j - 23rd May. They do an annual special two days of sharing both of their birthdays together and as such both receive presents twice as such and make trips. Their favorite go-to place is carnival.

Jade’s camera is borrowed from one of the commissioner’s job but later was gifted by them and such Pey’j has added features into Jade’s camera to make it one of its kind including ability to zoom in and out almost infinitely, loads of filters built in and one of Jade’s favorite - a stunt that gives anyone within her range a temporary blindness, although comes with limit of usages she can do.

Pey’j’s wrench has been modified and had different looks many times to make the perfect wrench with multi-purpose as ever! Currently his wrench has been modified to weigh slightly heavier than average wrenches to carry a heavy and quick swing. Pey’j’s wrench has even functionality to act as a power source for example to use as a flashlight, to charge up equipment, without a lot of storage of power. He’s still in development for that perk.

Funny story. When Jade was 16, she asked, begged even Pey'j for earrings for “that cool rad look to show off!” Jade’s own quotes. Pey’j reluctantly agreed but he was at first adamant about putting the earrings himself and so he tried to do his first practice to his own ears. It didn’t go well as planned with him having two permanent little holes in his ears and he eventually agreed to let Jade go to the professional. Jade still make jokes about it to these days, not of one Pey’j’s proudest moments.

Jade’s hairstyles had so many iterations before she settled in her now iconic bottom shaved pixie cut. She has only let her hair grow once when she was around 8, Jade's parents weren’t looking carefully and Jade was messing with lighter and managed to burn half of her hair. To say Jade’s parents were mortified and angry would be an understatement. Jade later had to shave her whole hair for six months.

Pey’j boots are actually jet boots that he modified way more recently than his wrench, allowing him to float a few centimeters into the air - before then falling down, but this comes in handy for combat for ground pounding!

If you have read all of this...holy shit that's insane of you and I really appreciate that you took your time about two characters that I just wanted to give more love for them... ^^' Feel free to write your feedback, suggestion, idea or even mistakes if I have made any about it! Like I said before I want to improve on writing down ideas and thoughts into words more coherent and clear in the future.

Thank you for reading once again! 🫶

[osamucide]

you should know that I ⭐️ annon am the same annon as floras 🐯 annon i am the one obsessed with feaksushi nakajima

i felt like it’s only appropriate i answer this ask with tonight��s thoughts and contemplations because tonight im contemplating and thinking a lot about gross pathetic perv stalker!Atsushi

gross pathetic perv stalker!Atsushi who trips and falls into his obsession with you. he really wasn’t looking for anything, much less this. he probably meets you on an assignment, or you happen upon the Agency with an inquiry, whether you’re a civilian or from a neighboring organization—it doesn’t matter, because whatever way it happens, he never expects to be so taken with anyone so intensely, so quickly. it’s generous, really, to even say he’s met you; more like he saw you and was so awestruck that he immediately turned you over for Dazai or Kunikida to deal with so he wouldn’t have to worry about looking like a flustered mess in front of the most beautiful person he thinks he’s ever seen.

gross pathetic perv stalker!Atsushi wholly avoids you whenever you’re in proximity for business outside of sneaking longing glances at you; no way, he thinks, anyone who carries themselves like you, looks like you, talks like you, would ever go for someone like him. you fill him with a desire he feels all over; he could almost hate it, hate you for it, want to stay far away from it. but when the office empties out at the end of the day, he’s thumbing frantically through files for anything on you—a picture, a middle name, an ability, anything. he can’t pinpoint a sole reason why but he’s utterly hypnotized by you.

it’s by total chance (and thorough combing through the president’s filing cabinet) gross pathetic perv stalker!Atsushi stumbles upon your address. he snaps the folder closed when he sees it—maybe he can talk himself out of what he already knows he’s going to do—but ultimately, he cracks it back open, studies it, commits it to memory. it’s funny, you’re put up smack in the middle between the Agency and that place that serves really good chazuke. for good measure, he slips the wallet-sized photo identifying you out of the paper clip holding it to your file and tucks it in his pocket.

gross pathetic perv stalker!Atsushi knows it’s wrong, but he can’t help himself. since your case was resolved earlier this week, he hasn’t seen you in days—he feels deprived of your presence, your beauty, and it would be so wrong to say he’s nabbed your number from a professional setting. better to be subtle, he thinks, and plans for it to be a one time thing: the way he’s standing across the street, watching your lights, skirting your building, hiding on your fire escape, peering up over the windowsill to catch a glimpse of you inside.

needless to say, it’s not a one time thing for gross pathetic perv stalker!Atsushi to slink by your place every so often; in fact, it quickly goes from only once a week to multiple times until he’s doing it every day, even many times a day—slipping out for lunch, on a late night walk, when he should be running Agency errands. it’s like you’re drawing him in with some sort of magic. when he can’t make it by to watch you from the shadows, he sits at his desk or lays in bed looking at that little picture of you. you look so quietly stunning—so professional, so assured. the desire he feels could easily breed resentment, what with how much he’s convinced himself you’d never even look in his direction under normal circumstances.

gross pathetic perv stalker!Atsushi can’t help, either, the way he comes to need you so badly without you even knowing. he lays in bed holding your photo with his lip bitten raw between his teeth while he rocks his hips back and forth against a pillow; when he closes his eyes, he pretends it’s you, pretends to hear soft, quiet good boy, Atsushis and other praises he just knows would sound heavenly leaving your lips. when he wraps his fist around his aching cock he pretends it’s your hole he’s fucking—he imagines what your sighs and moans would sound like woven between his own, fully aware that you probably don’t even remember he exists while he twitches and pants your name and spurts cum all over that little picture of your face.

gross pathetic perv stalker!Atsushi gets grumpy and weird when he hasn’t had a taste of you in too long, which winds up being alarmingly short periods of time. he snaps at his coworkers, finds the strangest excuses for scuttling out of the office—to the point where Kunikida’s irritably comparing his tardiness to Dazai’s, and Dazai’s mockingly (and knowingly) comparing his little outbursts with Kunikida’s. he’s so not himself. he knows it, too—but he can’t stop crouching beneath your window, drinking you in between the tiny gaps in your blinds, palming his dick through his pants while he watches you do the most mundane things—make dinner, sit at your computer, read a book, stretch out on the couch in nothing but a t-shirt and underwear.

gross pathetic perv stalker!Atsushi holds onto all the little details—the way your shirt rides up when you reach for something in your cabinets, the way you absentmindedly start undoing your belt on your way to the shower, your reactions to whatever you’re watching on television—all of it. he eats up every crumb of you like he’s starving. he’s so desperate for each new piece of you he finds. soon, however, it stops feeling like enough; he needs more of you, and he feels horrible, already having gone through your file and kept your photo and watched you in what you thought was the privacy of your home, but he can’t help it. he can’t resist you.

somewhat reluctantly, gross pathetic perv stalker!Atsushi hatches plans to break in through your fire escape door and sneak around your place. he already knows your schedule by heart, and his mentor’s taught him enough about lock picking that it won’t be messy; he’ll wait until you’re out on the weekend, or maybe away for work, and satiate his curiosity what he thinks will be for good—this too, of course, he tells himself will be a one time thing. he just needs to be in your space, smell you, feel you—perhaps take one more little something for him to remember you by and then he can be content with the prospect of maybe seeing you around the city sometime.

but it’s not that simple for gross pathetic perv stalker!Atsushi, of course. no matter how terrible he feels, no matter how much his conscience screams at him that he’s a creep, he’s disgustingly desperate, once he gets a little closer to you he knows there’s no going back. the first time he pokes around, innocently admiring your thoughtfully curated trinkets and spunky magnets on the fridge and houseplants you maybe forget to water sometimes, it’s a given that he comes across your basket of dirty laundry. he wasn’t looking for it, he’d swear up and down, if someone were to ask; like you, like everything, he just found it, and he couldn’t help himself. how is it his fault you’re so perfect, and that he needs more of you like you’re a drug?

gross pathetic perv stalker!Atsushi lets himself steal things he’s mostly positive you won’t miss too much—a cone of your favorite incense here, a stick of your chapstick there, and eventually the old briefs that always end up forgotten about at the bottom of the basket. he makes his own sick little shrine to you, burning the incense while he thinks of you, putting on your lip balm and imagining you’ve kissed him with it, jerking off with one hand while the other holds your dirty underwear to his nose and he inhales so hungrily he gets dizzy. it makes it all sweeter when he cums, out of breath and sucking oxygen down, surrounded by you, while he keeps that soiled photo close enough by that he makes a mess on it over and over again. oops.

gross pathetic perv stalker!Atsushi pushes his limits with how much he can take from you without you noticing—he watches you exit your building, sees you off on your way to work (which he’s also swung by a couple times—not that you’d have noticed), and tiptoes up to the sanctuary that is your apartment. he ends up with all sorts of souvenirs: a tiny sample bottle of your signature scent, locks of your hair from at home-trims, another photo of you off your crowded fridge door, a second pair of your underwear to blow his load into. it just gets better and better. but he needs more.

gross pathetic perv stalker!Atsushi thinks he must be crazy, breaking in this late, when he knows you could be back anytime. it’s almost like he wants you to catch him. it all comes back to the fact that he can’t help it; he needs something, anything to keep himself at bay for tonight because your underwear is so saturated with his cum these days that it’s starting to lose your smell. he’ll be quick, he thinks—that is, until he assumes he has time to jerk off facedown in your pillow, humping another pair of your underwear, and he doesn’t hear you closing your front door behind you.

[smystermy]

𝐧𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐞

tags: geto suguru x you; canon-compliant (but it isn't important to this fic); set some time after his defection; you both co-parent nanako-mimiko; established relationship; domestic fluff; gentle romance.

warnings: none except this that the reader's hair is long enough to be tied into a bun. no gendered language used for the reader.

word count: 676.

oneshot, loosely related to 'peel your heart like a pomegranate'.

The living room is wrapped in stillness, save for the soft clack of your fingers on the laptop keys and the faint hum of distant traffic outside. Geto sits slouched on the couch, thumb idly scrolling his phone, his mind half-absent as he flips through post after post he doesn’t care about. He barely notices when his hand lowers slightly, his gaze drifting up and—

He sees you.

You’re seated on the carpet, cross-legged in front of the coffee table, the glow of the overhead light spilling down like a halo. It highlights the curve of your cheekbone, the soft slope of your nose, the tiny frown pulling your brows together as you stare intently at the screen. A strand of hair has fallen loose from your haphazard bun, one you’ve probably shoved up without thought, and you’re dressed in one of his old shirts—thin and worn, slipping lazily off your shoulder like it belongs there—paired with baggy shorts that swallow you whole.

It’s the most mundane of moments, the kind most people would overlook, but Geto feels his chest ache, his breath catching in his throat.

You’re not posed or polished; there’s nothing deliberate about the way you’re sitting there. But to him, it’s everything.

A kind of beauty that doesn’t have words. Real. Raw and unfiltered, like the quiet poetry of morning sunlight spilling across a room. How many times has he tried to capture moments like this—to put them into thoughts, into something he could hold onto—only to realize they can’t be contained? You—lost in thought, unaware of his gaze—are something fleeting and infinite all at once.

Before he knows it, his phone slips from his hand, forgotten as it tumbles onto the cushion beside him. He slides off the couch, the carpet warm beneath him as he sits beside you. A small smile curves his lips as he watches you, so engrossed in your work that you don’t notice him at first—not until his hand lifts, his fingers gently brushing that loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You startle slightly, blinking up at him, the crease in your brow softening. “Senpai?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

His gaze lingers, tender and quiet, like he’s etching this moment into his memory. Then, without thinking, his hand cradles your chin, his thumb brushing tenderly along your jaw, the gesture slow and deliberate before he finally leans in and presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is soft, reverent—like he’s afraid to startle you again, like the moment itself is fragile. His lips linger for a heartbeat longer than necessary, and when he finally pulls back, there’s a faint flush on your cheeks, your brows knitting in the most adorably puzzled way.

“Not that I mind,” you murmur, voice small and sweet, “but… what brought that on?”

He smiles softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek as though to smooth away your frown. “You,” he says simply, his voice low and steady—like he’s sharing a secret meant only for you.

Your brows crease again, as though you don’t quite understand, but the confusion is already giving way to a shy, fluttering smile tugging at your lips. You open your mouth to say something—maybe to question him again—but before you can, Geto's hand shifts to the back of your neck, pulling you into him once more.

The second kiss is deeper, more certain.

There’s no urgency, no rush in the way his lips move against yours—only a quiet resolve, as though he’s pouring every unspoken word, every feeling too fragile for language, into the press of his mouth. His hand remains at the back of your neck, anchoring you to him, holding you steady as the world narrows to just this moment, just the two of you, wrapped in the tender stillness of the room.

And in that stillness, as your lips yield to his, a thought unfurls in his mind—soft and undeniable: how impossibly lucky he is. That you’re here, that you’re his—to hold, to kiss, to love for the rest of his life.

general masterlist || geto suguru masterlist

[kazxraval]

Kaz answered with a soft grunt. Yet another thing saved for later, would he even remember half of this trip? This mix of lows with a few euphoric peaks. These facets of Emre cut and polished in front of him that Kaz wanted to retreat with into a grotto or dorm and hold to the light. Study them all, peer through every geometric pattern, every sparkle. An impossibility and yet Kaz wanted to spend the time trying. His ruby, no wonder he thought to swallow the ones given to him long ago.

It made him forget much of what happened. Beatings, blood. A fear totally unknown, until today. That he might've lost Emre.

He huffed, a little amused. "What you want with my mates?" Kaz's fingers weaved tight with Emre's. "Carmen, Fiona. They probably got out before all this shit went down. You're right, don't want anyone I cared about here." Seattle overrun, what other places were like this? "Fuck, we gotta be better off." They both referred to the island as home. A first for Kaz.

Kaz would prefer to talk about anything else. Not on the boat anyway, not in the middle of a mess. "Punished? Nah. I wasn't. I'm punished now with the worst headache of my life." The heel of his head pressed above gashes and swelling close to a temple. The topography of the worst parts of the trip all over his face and body.

I've only felt things for you, that I'd never felt for anyone else. So unexpected, or was it? The 'cheers' at the end, the settling back into their forced forward momentum made him question the involuntary smile on his face. Thick spears of pain pierced his head, neck, shoulders, chest-- damn near everywhere else. All made it difficult to comprehend much. Perception skewed, maybe Kaz didn't know what to make of anything at the moment.

As long as he was understood. "Georgie was a drop of rain." The steady rainfall had grown heavier, not the usual thin mist. All Kaz had to do was open a hand, and a fat bead of water splattered on his skin, like a little explosion. "Me and you, we're the ocean." Probably sounded cheesy as fuck, but through what he assumed at that point was a concussion he suffered, it needed to be said.

Those words, my humanity, my goals. People kept as memories (Omar, Urmilla, Ajit). All a succinct barbed wire string of moving images cinched around his heart for Emre. Kaz stood quiet for a moment.

His hand unlatched from Emre's to cradle a face he'd not tired of examining, at great distances as well as up close, with eyes shut to dreams or rubbing the sleep away in the morning. Kaz kissed him. Not near as long as he'd like, but he lingered as much as possible in the soft heat, while bobbed around on the waves. When he broke away, Kaz said, "When we were on the water, you asked me if you were the most beautiful." They were interrupted by that fuckwit Feroze. "I said you were a beautiful thing. And you're the most beautiful too."

Kaz felt he'd spilled so much of himself, like the insides of the bodies they needed to dump. Unforgivably obvious, as slippery and bright red across the deck as the blood at their feet. Then, he was smiling again. "Don't think you were an ass. I liked it. You don't sing anymore. Guess you woo'ed me and were done with the songs, yeah?" A tease, of course.

There they were, sucked through some existential bilge pump and spit back out into a very cold and bitter sea. Surreal to hear Georgina, of all people, inform them of the state of the family Raval. The facts (lies? very probably from Georgie to throw at least a few in) were sorted as he might have back in his days as a journalist. All block lettered in sharply drawn columns, hints with sketches to accompany. To place in a dead file, bury, or use when something missing called to him.

Kaz didn't spring to life again until Georgie claimed he was needy. "Are you joking?" A poisonous laugh burst from his throat, despite the knowledge she made every attempt to wind him up. "Holy shit-- you were THE neediest person I'd ever me!" So many examples to choose from. "Was it the 3rd time we fucked that you said you were pregnant? Just to trap me? Stop lying Georgie. All you did was try to run off my friends. If you thought I was meeting up with someone you didn't like, you'd call me back saying someone was stalking you. Or your brother beat you up, remember that one? For five fucking minutes of your life. Stop."

Georgie scoffed, seemingly unable to counter what Kaz threw at her. You know Ali's on this boat? Her eyes flitted over to meet Emre's. A long pause, what Georgie clearly envisioned to be dramatic. A visual check-mate, before she simpered, 'I do believe you know the answer.'

Outside in the cold wind, Emre seemed more serious than before. Not that Kaz wasn't. But he still reeled from Georgie's insanity, and fought the desire to crash in the captain's unmade bed.

"We're a few hours out from Seattle. I say we dump Georgie and head to Victoria, but doubt we'd have the gas for it. Maybe we can make it to the coast at least. Emre, you're thinking about something, I can tell. Is it Georgie? What is it?" We know the rules, luv.

When Ali was confronted by the news-- your brother's dead --he snapped his wrist out of Emre's grip and covered it with his other hand. Big brown eyes went even wider and tears welled, which made Ali seem even more fragile. After a long pause, his mouth knotted up. Tears spilled, first from the right eye and then both.

His anger burned a hole through Emre. 'You're lying.' A pause, then a shout. 'You're LYING!' A swift leg whipped out to kick Emre's shin. Then, small hands gave Emre a shove to the stomach before balled fists lashed out.

'Where is my brother!' Ali whirled around to face Kaz, like an adolescent kitten's attempt to intimidate the two adult alleycats that cornered him. His lower lip began to quiver and his voice rose higher. 'Feroze! I found them, those two DICKS,' said like a proud 12 year old cursing for the first time, which wasn't far from the truth for Ali. Then, blurted as he reached for the first thing he could: an empty bucket on deck, that he threw at Kaz's chest.

Kaz managed to dodge the bucket and held his hands up. "Hey, it's true. You know your brother was involved in some shady shit. But." A quick glance at Emre. "This guy wants to help you, okay. So stop shouting! I know it's not how it's supposed to be. We didn't want this either." As Kaz went on, Ali's eyes landed on a thin trail of blood on the deck, and began to follow it visually as it widened into a pool. As dark as it was out, the moon seemed to highlight the violence. As well as the ghostly unmoving arm on deck, a hint of the Captain's speargunned body around the corner.

Kaz dropped a hand to Ali's shivering shoulder, the truth shaking Ali's whole frame. "Feroze isn't coming! He's gone. You gotta suck it up. You gotta keep going. So, let us help you get the hell out of here in one piece."

Kaz blinked. Thought he did, anyway. When his eyes opened, he was still hunched over little Ali, fingers cupped at the kid's shoulder.

But they weren't on the boat anymore.

Kaz slowly straightened up. They stood under an umbrella of light from a street lamp. Evergreen trees soared and peeks of a snowy mountain popped through the green from far away. They were at the corner of a neighborhood street lined with older single family homes. One car garages and small but fairly neat lawns. Not sprawling or anything fancy, built for practical living rather than to impress.

Ali asked the reasonable question of where are we, and Kaz whispered back equally as stunned that he wasn't certain. Except. It was way too familiar...

Two kids around Ali's age sat on bikes in a nearby driveway. A boy and a girl. Siblings. Maybe even twins. They stared silently at Kaz and Ali. Oddly in observation.

Ali waved, and Kaz grabbed his hand to force down. He called out. "Reyansh? Ani?"

The kids made no sound between them. Their eyes said more, the girl confused and the boy protective. They circled their bikes out of the driveway to pedal away. The girl in particular cast a look over her shoulder as they took off in the opposite direction.

"Oh, fuck. Fuck. Ahhh." He looked around. "Emre! We gotta find Emre. EM! WHERE ARE YOU??"

"He's only a little," Emre sighed, not bothering to hold back his sentimentality. Kaz wouldn't deride him for feeling things, not like Emre's old mates. And Kaz didn't follow up, leaving Emre to believe perhaps Kaz allowed a bit of softening too; if not for his sake, or Ali's sake, but for Emre's. The power of influence, and love. Emre had used love before to manipulate Iyaz, for Iyaz's own good (so Emre convinced himself). With Kaz, though? It felt...so clean, so honest. Emre couldn't help a beaming little smile, incongruous to their surroundings.

Still picking at a carcass. Trust Kaz to point out the hard, dire reality. "Are we the lucky ones? Got my mum, running for her life. Here's your Seattle, caught up in this mad-max survival. I'd wondered if we'd run into your mates here, but maybe...it's better we don't find out what happened to them. Kaz.." Emre wanted to reach out, say he was sorry. But it sounded trite, stupid. He just held Kaz's hand instead, fingers pressing into Kaz's sturdy palm.

Shaking his head, Emre knew he wouldn't figure out the map-word mystery. Maybe it didn't even matter. As Kaz implied: they didn't belong in this world, not anymore. And Kaz caressed and pinched, and looked at Emre like they were the only things that did matter. It wouldn't be the first time everything around them was cut away, leaving only Kaz to fill Emre's entire gaze. All-encompassing - those terms of endearment tumbling so naturally from Kaz's mouth, like little diamonds.

Emre held Kaz's hand in place and murmured, plaintively, "I could lie in your little unmade bed for a million years. I want to go home." Home. The island. A place of relative safety and privilege. A place to not think about anything else but Kaz. Selfish, indulgent, and perhaps even lucky.

In this old fishing boat throughway, Kaz unlocked more recollections of himself and Georgie. Love. It was love, though Kaz wouldn't say it. And Georgina knew it and broke Kaz's heart. "So you knew what it felt like. And you were punished for it anyway."

Emre marveled at this little gem of information, unsure how to parse it just yet. He was exhausted, Kaz even moreso, he imagined. Yet Emre still continued, "I've only felt things for you, that I'd never felt for anyone else. Not even Melz." Emre smiled, guessing Kaz might ask. "Not sure what to make of all this right now, if I'm honest. But. Cheers for telling me, yeah. I mean it."

Emre hummed at Kaz's query. "Loads of things. Seemed only thing I did manage to let go of though, was bits of myself, innit. My humanity. My - my goals and dreams and hopes and that. If I lost anymore people though, who would I have left? I couldn't let go of them, nah. Not even as memories. I replayed memories a million times in my head."

Singing in the rock. New, bright memories flooded in. Emre kissed his teeth, lightly butting his head against Kaz's shoulder. "Fucking hell, of course you'd hold onto my most embarrassing moments. Precious memories is me making an arse of myself, is that it?" A low, amused chuckle, fully adoring and in complete contrast of their dire surroundings. But currently, it truly was just him and Kaz right now, nothing and no one else.

The world couldn't stay dammed-up for long though. It returned in big, forceful chunks around Emre's periphery, and here they were stood, completely knackered and filthy and bloody and stuck in a tin can on the water of a nightmare city.

Back with Georgie, who was looking a bit worse for the wear. Did she feel it? She mocked them, but still gave up the gossip anyway. Something to do, something to manipulate Kaz with, she likely hoped. Dad in prison, brother...somewhere. Mum divorced. That was surprising to Emre. "Priya didn't follow Edward as well. And look what she made of herself, staying in Seattle. Pairing up with you." His lip curled at Georgina.

Georgie's glare remained on Kaz, though. "On a beach. And you paired up too? With him?" She tried a flippant toss of her grey-gold hair. "Kazzy could never stay alone for long. He's soooo needy."

Kaz, the most self-sufficient man that Emre had ever known. The very definition of 'lone wolf'. He actually could imagine a younger Kaz, duped by this woman and the ideals of love, deciding to reject everything to do with love entirely. The Raval's had done a good job scrubbing that concept raw; then Georgina came along and made it worse, an infection for Kaz to rid himself of completely.

Emre did his best not to look directly at Kaz. Because Kaz would read everything in Emre's eyes, he knew; and Georgina would see that. Her childish retort, and Emre silently prompted her with the map. She decided on one port: Fermé. Emre thinned his eyes.

"You know Ali's on this boat?" His tone was ominously quiet. Was Frank the captain supposed to encounter them mid-sail? Did Georgina somehow plan all of - no. That was impossible. Georgina couldn't have masterminded how this all fell out. She hadn't expected Emre to even make it out of that operating table back on Whidbey.

And as if on cue, Ali started up his caterwauling. Fucking hell, Emre hated coincidences.

At Kaz's beckon, Emre followed him back outside. Emre stared hard at the dark water and moonlit islands around them. Not many other lights to guide them. Not even any lighthouses, no blinking buoys to warn them off rocky juts in the water. It was dangerous, sailing like this. They needed land, or they needed teleporting out of there.

"Even if we land there, what then? We just...wait up to five days? Let Georgina go? How far are we from Seattle, now?" Take Ali back to their island? Emre blinked in surprise at Kaz. "We know the rules, luv. We can't risk breaking them with a child..." Could they? Save Ali or get him killed - were those their only two choices?

The little sod had impeccable timing. Emre chastized Kaz with a look for stomping on the hatch - he opened it, and hauled Ali out by his shirt collar. Emre let him stand, but held onto Ali's thin wrist.

"Run if you like but there's no where to go, I'm afraid." And then bluntly, "Your brother's dead. He knew the sort of life he got - got you both into, didn't he. Now he's dead for it. You're all alone, now. You was in this hatch when we found you, reckon Captain Frank would trade you for parts, yeah?" Emre held Ali's tattooed wrist to see. "Feroze every told you what he actually did then? Working for Georgina? She's in there, if you want to go to her."

[theheirofthesharingan]

“Tell me, father, which to ask forgiveness for: what I am, or what I’m not?

Tell me, mother, which should I regret: what I became, or what I didn’t?”

- source

[sluckythewizard]

[PUT INTO PLACE, TIED DOWN AND ARRANGED, AND IS NEVER THE SAME, AGAIN.]<-listen to my favorite songs. VAMPIRES ARE WONDERFUL ARENT THEY. THE FLESH IS SO MUCH MORE DURABLE. SO MUCH STRETCHIER THAN HUMANS. THE STRESS DOESNT KILL A VAMPIRE THE SAME WAY IT DOES A HUMAN. YOU CAN TAKE THEM APART THREAD BY THREAD AND LEAVE THEM WIDE AWAKE WITHOUT WORRY OF THE BRAINMATTER SPOILING UNDER VINEGARY AGONY.

[puppppppppy]

Gripped with ideas but….. the panelling………….

[uchiha-gaeshi]

Does anyone else automatically size themselves up with people their age and look for ways that you’re inferior to them? Just me? Ok….

[citrineoleander]

wow you guys weren't lying about about restoration being weird and kinda bad

[fisheito]

SCREMS my snautsticic child he is trying ok!!!!!! one tiny snake human hybrid built from the cave-ground-up, , attempting to learn all the implicit rules of humanness?! as if it isn't already tough enough out here!!!!