#i would have done all white stars if i wasn't low on them

[wistelligence]

i should really build a lightbox or somethin

[maniacwatchestheworld]

DPxDC prompt #10: Vicki Vale will roast Vlad alive

[Props and credit to @starry-songs-canvas for creating this idea (sorta) which can be seen and read here... Which I then created the inverse of for this prompt thing... Enjoy!]

After the latest story she published, Vicki Vale of the Gotham Gazette needed to lay low. Preferably somewhere that wasn't Gotham City. She knew that she was provoking retaliation by reporting on Gotham's crime families and their latest involvement in city hall, but she didn't care. The truth needed to be known, and her own personal safety was just a small sacrifice that she was more than happy to make for it.

However, the Gotham Gazette couldn't risk having their star reporter getting mysteriously (but suspiciously) killed in one of Gotham's many, many dark backalleyways. So until the heat died down a little, they decided to assign her to a story out of town where she would undoubtedly be safer.

So that's how Vicki Vale of the Gotham Gazette ended up in Amity Park. She was supposed to be working on a fluff piece. This city had apparently been dealing with one hell of a ghost infestation for a while now, and the Justice League had done practically nothing to help this city deal with this problem. The article was supposed to be about the Justice League and underserved Midwestern cities dealing with unusual problems that only the Justice League could solve. So imagine her surprise when she arrived to town and started digging, only to find a few independent parties actually already dealing with the city's ghost problem, containing the ghosts, and keeping this problem from spreading elsewhere.

Foremost, there was a scientist husband and wife duo who were ghost hunting specalists and inventors. Out of everyone dealing with ghosts in the city, they surprisingly seemed to be the best prepared and had the best equipment for the job. In fact, all of the other major ghost hunting groups and individuals seemed to be using technology based off of their designs... (Certainly there was a story there and someone was probably breaking patent laws, but that would have to be a story for another day.) Secondly were the Guys in White- A little known government organization that specialized in the search and study of ghosts and other possible supernatural anomalies. She had been acquainted with them before, however the task force assigned to this city seemed... Less competent than most... Third was an individual ghost hunter dressed all in red who was known to have a particularly personal hatred for ghosts. She would ride a kind of rocket board over town, and rumor had it that she was actually a teenage girl who was attending the local high school and did the ghost hunting on her hours off from school. Out of the groups of ghost hunters in town, she seemed more interested in destroying ghosts rather than capturing and studying them like the other ghost hunters in town. And last, but certainly not least, was the local ghost boy celebrity hero- a ghost who looked much like a teenage boy who was previously known to the town as "Invis-O-Bill" before it was stated on the news that his name was actually, "Danny Phantom." No one knew why the ghost boy had such a keen interest in capturing ghosts and, according to the rumors, returning them to the place from whence they came, but his efforts were well-known throughout the town, and he was largely adored by the city for it- Especially by the younger crowd.

Vicki had decided to do her due diligence and interview these different groups of ghost hunters before writing this story off entirely. The interviews were interesting, but offered very little for her story. There seemed to be a consensus. While the number of ghosts that needed to be captured could be overwhelming at times, and while the time commitment to hunting ghosts absolutely destroyed the possibility of them having any free time, between the Fentons, Phantom, and the anonymous ghost hunter in red- Whom Vicki had decided to dub "the Red Huntress" for her story (a name that the red-clad ghost hunter seemed to like)- they largely had the problem covered. Sure, backup from the Justice League could be helpful and appreciated, but they didn't really think that the Justice League would be well equipped for their specific problem, and they mostly had it handled. In fact, the Fentons and Red Huntress alike seemed to have a particular passion for ghost hunting that they had no interest in giving up for anything!

As for the question of why people outside of Amity Park thought that this was a problem, while the people actually living there didn't... That yielded a more interesting response... For their part, the Fentons and the Red Huntress didn't know where this perception that they couldn't handle the job was coming from (in fact, the Red Huntress seemed to take particular offense to this idea)... But the Phantom offered a very curious response.

"I don't know... Maybe Vlad's keeping the press from talking about it...?"

"Vlad...?"

"Uh... Yeah! Vlad Masters? The mayor of Amity Park...?"

"You think that he's keeping the news from reporting on the successes of Amity Park's ghost hunters?" Vicki asked it as more of a statement than a question.

"Well, I know that he pays off the local papers to make him look good and for me to look bad, so... I guess it's possible...?"

Vicki thought that was interesting. Very interesting indeed. She thanked the ghost for his time and watched as he flew off, doubtless to find other ghosts menacing the population of Amity Park to defeat them.

She let out a heavy sigh. It looks like this fluff piece about how the Justice League wasn't doing enough to help this community was going to be a bust. The ghost problem was largely covered, and she had suspicions that the Justice League knew this and therefore felt no need to interfere. That wasn't a bad thing. And it certainly wasn't enough of an actual problem to be reported on.

As a reporter, Vicki knew when to trust her gut. And right now her gut was telling her that there was something much more interesting going on in this town other than a little bit of neglect from the Justice League. She pulled out her phone and called her editor-in-chief.

"Hey there, Mr. Ito. Yeah, I'm still in Amity Park, laying low. Think that it's safe for me to come home yet?" She listened to her boss reply over the line. "Oh no, no, that's not a problem at all! I just wanted to call because I think that the current piece is a bust... However... I think that I've come across something even better! Think you can get me some info?" She waited for her boss' response. "Of course, of course! I just wanted to check in with you first. But if you wouldn't mind, could you get someone to help me with digging up as much dirt as we can on Vlad Masters, the current mayor of Amity Park? I just got a tip that he may be paying off the papers here. And from what I've seen, I think that there's something more... Suspicious about him. For now it's just a hunch. But there's something here. I just need to find it."

[mnnulat]

Been There, Done That

Tech x fem!reader

Fandom: Star Wars: The Bad Batch

Summary: Some things never change.

Warnings: angst, unrequited love (i love Phee tho, don't get me wrong), bit of low self-esteem, jealousy, slightly implied cheating maybe

A/N: Oneshot is based on the song "On My Own" from the Les Miserables musical.

You remember that day clearly.

You were a singer at Cid's dingy parlor in Ord Mantell, earning just enough to get by. Lucky you that Cid let you stay at an adjoining room to her business place. Her parlor wasn't that famous, nor was it that underground either. There were a few regular patrons here and there; a lot of times, new faces would appear once and never come back. You didn't see that much hope in your future, either. You figured you would be stuck there forever.

Until they came.

At first, you found it odd that a group of clones came into a parlor. Even worse that they brought a young girl with them. That definitely made you suspicious. Who would bring a child in this shady place?

You couldn't even tell that they were clones at first---or even that the girl was also a clone. The men's armor seemed to be very different from the usual white and painted armor. These clones had black and red armor (save for one, who had light grey and red). They looked different, too. While all the other clones were identical---save for the varying hairstyles, scars, and tattoos---these clones didn't even look like clones at first. One was a huge giant, one was pale with cybernetics, one had a giant face tattoo and long hair, and one was slightly lean with goggles. Let's not even get started on the girl.

These clones---Clone Force 99 or the Bad Batch, as they want to be called----reluctantly started to work for Cid until it became a regular deal. And so it was that their missions for Cid would lead them to be in the parlor frequently. They would catch you performing sometimes. And sometimes, when time would permit it, they would chat with you for a bit. Omega was the bubbliest of the bunch, always asking you to play with her if time permit.

You remember that day clearly.

That one fateful day, though you wish it wasn't under such circumstance.

Omega had come running in the parlor. Trailing behind her were her brothers, covered in several cuts and bruises, especially Wrecker, who was also limping.

That was the start of it all.

Ord Mantell as a whole is a shady place. Coupled with having witnessed countless bar fights, you had to learn first aid. It was a skill you quickly developed through many oppurtunities in the parlor and in the streets. And that was how you helped the Batch. That one fateful day, you were the one who tended to their injuries.

And so it became that you turned into their medic. Just an extra hand staying at Ord Mantell, if they needed; but soon you started to tag along them in the missions Cid gave them. And being their medic meant you spent a good chunk of your time with Tech.

He filled in the gaps of your medical knowledge. Truthfully, you really enjoyed learning anything, so you've always looked forward to spending time with Tech because it always meant you would soak up tons of information. Not only that, you two would always debate back and forth on topics you were confident and very knowledgeable about. It was a fresh change from your routine life as a singer in Cid's parlour.

And it came to no surprise to the Batch that Tech was the person you grew closest to.

Everything was going well, you thought. Everytime you were with him---every smile, compliment, even critique---your smile would be at its brightest. Your ramblings would be at their most energetic. And your heart would beat at its fastest.

But as always with you, the happy things never seem to last.

You remember that day clearly.

You came into Cid's office with the Batch, side-by-side with Tech. There was someone else in the office with the Trandoshan, though. Phee the pirate. You'd recognize that charisma anywhere.

You've met her a few times since Cid seemed to trust her a great deal. You admire the lady too. She's strong, beautiful, witty, smart, independent, charismatic.

Everything you're not.

The way she talked to Tech made you feel odd. You had expected her to chat up Hunter, mostly. But not Tech.

At first Tech didn't even pay much heed to her; and to your own disgust, you were somehow thankful for that.

But as Phee spent more time with you and the Batch---up to the point of relocating to Pabu---Tech and Phee got closer.

They spent much time alone. And even when the rest of you were there, Tech would always give her a smile different than the ones you've ever seen him give to anyone. And his tone---a soft, gentle tone that he's never used on anyone else but her.

And frankly, those were the only signs you needed.

You, Phee, and the Batch had an early dinner which finished as the sun was setting. You had seen the genius and pirate get up and walk away together, laughing about something. You quickly excused yourself from the table, but not before you caught Hunter giving you a soft gaze.

Presently, you've been sitting on a rock on the shores of Pabu for goodness knows how long. Purple with hues of orange paint the sky as the sun has almost completely set. The waves washing upon the shore and recoiling back into the sea in an almost melodic rhythm.

It's only now that you open your journal---yes, a paperback journal as it feels more personal---and begin to write, the light of the sunset and a small lamp beside you shining on the pages.

On my own, pretending he's beside me.

Your mind conjurs up an image of Tech sitting silently beside you on the rock, quietly typing away on his datapad.

All alone, I walk with him 'til morning.

You two would get up and start making your back to Upper Pabu, discussing a new species of plant Tech just read about.

Without him, I feel his arms around me. And when I lose my way, I close my eyes, and he has found me.

As you write those words, it's as if you could feel the plastoid of his armor around your arms and body. A rare gesture from him, but one that you always cherished.

In the rain, the pavement shines like silver. All the lights, are misty in the river. In the darkness, the trees are full of starlight; and all I see is him and me forever and forever!

You recall a mission with the Batch, one that had you and Tech disguised as a couple, dressed in civies, walking down a busy marketplace when the rain poured harshly. You two ran back through a forest by a river to get back to the Marauder. You two were holding hands even, which made your heart thump so much that Hunter had a suspicious look on his face when you came back.

But the scene in your head disappears, leaving you alone with your journal again under the night sky.

And I know it's only in my mind that I'm talking to myself and not to him. 

You smile bitterly at the times he seemed oblivious to your flimsy excuses to just even be near him. In hindsight, it's cute and endearing.

And although, I know that he is blind, still I say there's a way for us.

Your smile drops and your head is clear once again.

I love him.

But when the night is over, he is gone. The river's just a river. Without him, the world around me changes. The trees are bare and everywhere the streets are full of strangers.

Your mind drifts back to that memory of you two running through the forest. But this time, you're alone, and suddenly the memory doesn't seem special at all.

I love him.

But every day I'm learning all my life, I've only been pretending!

It's as if a Rancor were squeezing your heart as your write. Your hand shakes, making you almost drop your pen. You recall all the times you've been rejected before Tech---the two other guys that you liked before him. You weren't pretty enough for the first one, he had said so himself, as he didn't deem you mature-looking enough. You had just turned into a teenager, and that was what he was already looking for. You loathed your body and youself for that. 

And even though the second one became your boyfriend, he still left you without a word to pursue someone else.

And now that Tech has his eyes on someone else, it's as if you were a teenager again looking for approval from the people she admired.

Were you not pretty enough for Tech? Not smart enough? Not strong enough?

He doesn't have to say anything, you already know the answer.

Without me, his world will go on turning. A world that's full of happiness that I have never known.

Finally, your mind plays back the every memory of Tech and Phee enjoying each other's company. Their laughter, smiles, banter, and affection shoot like blaster fire through your heart.

I love him.

I love him.

"I love him," you mutter to yourself.

But only on my own.

You're alone as you write the last sentence. Stars decorate the night sky like glitter; the waves unrelenting in their charge against the shore. Even in the island of refuge and paradise, full of people and cheer, you feel invisible.

[nishloves]

𝐒𝐄𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐙𝐄!

f!reader x kyojuro rengoku // fluff, angst // spoilers ahead! // masterlist

w a r n i n g s (part2) : blood, drinking, mentions of insomnia

w o r d s : 4.5k

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | (ch3-10 coming soon!)

you're sure that all your perfect stars were aligned when you met him.

"A party?" You mumbled, straightening out your now fixed haori as you looked at your kasugai.

"Master Ubuyashiki has prepared a feast for the hashira for their outstanding work!" The crow chirped, opting to sit on your shoulder as you folded your haori, stretching your legs and leaning back on the tatami floor.

"Sorry for yesterday, Karase," you said to your crow as she chirped, which you thought of as an apology accepted.

"I could see this party going down for so many reasons, plus hashiras out of work?" You grumbled to yourself.

"Oyakata sama must have something in his mind."

"Alcohol!"

"There's alcohol present too? Wow, I'm pretty sure we all are going to pass out."

Being demon slayers most of you didn't indulge in any type of alcoholic beverages for most of the year, there were some exceptions but most of you highly refrained from drinking, the party could be fun but you couldn't help feel trepidation, no hashira at work? Not a single one?

"When is the party anyway?"

"In an hour."

"IN AN HOUR!"

Your crow flew off again.

"You aren't very fast! Are you?" You scoffed, you could swear that your kasugai was giggling, even if crows can't really giggle.

You sighed as you fervently rummaged through your closet, should you just wear your uniform? Or would that be too weird? It wasn't as if you didn't have a life outside of the corps! It just... seemed like that.

You rummaged through your seven pairs of uniform and ten pairs of casual clothes, of which several were worn out because you wore them at home... did you really not have a life?

Maybe you should invest your hard earned money on clothes instead of cinnamon.

You looked at the time,

"I'm gonna be late, aren't i?"

You fervently threw on a decent white kimono covered with yellow and red flowers while managing your very very wild hair.

Somehow you got ready in fifteen minutes and stepped out of the house.

"Where is the party, Karase?" You asked your prankster crow as she peered at you.

"The sound hashira's house!"

"You're sure Oyakata sama planned our vacation and not Uzui san?" You asked, your brows furrowed.

"Oyakata sama was the one who planned it, for sure!"

Ren...Rengoku again?

You whipped your head towards the sound of his voice as you saw him laughing, "Hello l/n kun! Are you well now?"

You eyes widened as you noticed his apparel, draped in red kimono, his cloth was full of swirls of golden and yellow leaves with black cuffed sleeves, his hair tamed and collected into a low ponytail as you shamelessly gaped at him.

"Is there something on my face?" he asked, his brows scrunching slightly as he tried to register your expression.

"No- NOT AT ALL," you cried out, mentally slapping yourself for staring at him for too long, "I- I just never saw your hair tied back."

"Oh? Does it look bad?"

You eyes flickered along his golden ones, a smile twitching on your lips as you grinned, "Not at all, you look very cool!"

The tip of his ears and cheeks reddened as he blinked rapidly, did he get you to smile like that?

He should say something, compliment you on how your kimono complimented the undertone of your skin, how your eyes twinkled under the sun rays or rather how neatly your hair was done— but you had turned around, the moment had passed.

"Did Uzui san tell you about the party? You both are rather close," you asked, calming down your nervous and shy jitters as you managed to look ahead at the road, you knew you won't be able to converse with him if you look at him.

"Surprisingly no, I hadn't had a chance to talk to him for weeks," he replied honestly as he looked at your figure leading the way to the said hashira's house.

Rengoku had walked this path many times before, he didn't need any guide or whatsoever, but whatever you were doing was making him happy, so he didn't ask you to slow down.

Walking with you was better, he quite liked your company.

"Were you running late for the party too?"

His face flushed again as he looked away from you for a second; for someone who was known to be very punctual, this tardiness didn't suit him at all.

"I was," he said in a rather soft voice, "Though I was sure I would make it in time if I make a run for it."

You realised he hated calling the cabs.

"Why not call the cab?"

"And waste an opportunity to exercise?"

Or he was just very passionate.

You looked back at him, "Am i slowing you down?" You asked with guilt laced in your voice as you looked forward, "If you want we can still make a run for it, I am a hashira too—"

"No! You already overwork yourself, I am not letting you not rest on a rest day," Rengoku retorted, his strides widening as he easily caught up to you.

"You aren't slowing me down, l/n kun, I feel honoured to walk with you."

Did this guy ever blink?

You smiled slightly, "What's so honorable in walking with me?" You asked, playing with the sleeves of your kimono as Rengoku held your hand to help you cross the road. Your heartbeat fastened, he knew you could easily cross the road, hell you're a hashira! You could easily do any normal thing. But, you being a hashira wasn't an excuse for him to not be gentle with you.

"Shinobu would have chomped your ears off if you had tried to help her," you giggled, causing Rengoku to shiver at his imagination. "she would have," he agreed letting go of your hand,

Hold it again please.

"I'm glad I'm walking with you."

You could only hum and smile at the male bashfully as he grinned at you.

You both were the ones flirting, right?

"You're late."

"Not by much!" You retorted as Uzui grinned at you and Rengoku, not opting to remark on why you both were together.

"Well whatever, alcohol is there," he pointed to the distant corner of his very huge garden, "and food is there."

"Why are food and alcohol so far away?"

"I don't want to handle your drunk asses," he said; you could see his admittedly very pretty wives trying to serve hashiras with refreshments.

"Fair enough," Rengoku said as he walked further, his eyes very very set on the food.

"That was a rare sight," Uzui said, his lips widening into a smirk as you flinched.

"What do you mean?" You asked, being well aware of what he meant.

"You and Rengoku; I thought it was only Mitsuri and Obanai."

"It's not like that!" You retorted as you put your hands in the air, "We just met each other on the way!"

"So you aren't dating?"

"Not a chance," you replied, feeling a little disheartened.

"What a shame," the elder man said, turning to the direction of the party, "You don't look as flamboyant as me but still," he grinned back at you, "You look pretty today."

"Am I ugly otherwise?"

"I did NOT mean that, you just look depraved of food and sleep usually, you've rested well, that's good," he smiled at you as you followed him towards the party, not before noticing Rengoku devouring some type of meat and complimenting one of Uzui's wives (her name was Suma?) for the food.

"Glad that you could make it Y/N-san!"

"Thank you for hosting us, Hinatsuru-san," you smiled at the pretty lady who pushed a glass of sake in front of you, "Have fun!"

You looked around at the scene of the party; Uzui was trying to get Rengoku to slow down; Sanemi and Shinobu were into a deep conversation you had no idea about. Himejima san was snatching alcohol away from Muichiro and passing him an orange juice as Obanai looked at everyone annoyed, while Mitsuri tried to make him smile.

This is the closest to peace you all can have, isn't it?

Your gaze flickered towards the corner of the garden, where the water pillar sat alone with a drink in his hands.

Your heart throbbed, even you weren't that introverted.

You sauntered towards him, trying to keep him a company.

"Giyuu san," you called out, sitting in front of him.

"l/n," he nodded at you, his eyes softer than before.

"What are you doing?" You asked.

"Drinking."

You smiled at him, you knew that he was severely misunderstood, but who wouldn't misunderstand him if he gives them this sort of answer.

"Do you like it here?"

"Sanemi asked me to not be a buzz-kill so I'm sitting here."

You internally cringed as you looked at the wind hashira who was still engrossed in his conversation with Shinobu. He didn't have to be so mean.

"Don't think too much about it, you're fine, Giyuu san."

"I suppose... I should say thankyou."

"Well done!" You grinned at him, suddenly aware of the numerous stares on you both as you paid them no heed; Giyuu was known to be arrogant afterall, but not many of his rumours were true.

"How are you doing? I heard you got wounded," he asked, his eyes on you as you shuffled nervously.

"I wasn't particularly wounded! I was just... Burnt out, too exhausted to move, I didn't have any injury," you said, scratching your nape out of embarrassment.

"Why didn't you visit the butterfly mansion?"

"Well, i didn't see any need for it— it wasn't as if I was wounded and many others had to be treated with more priority," you replied, embarrassed out of your wit's end.

He gave you a disapproving glance, "Urokodaki san wouldn't like that."

"Hey! I sincerely didn't think that I required it!" You retorted as you sneezed, your body accepting the allegations you were trying to deny.

Giyuu passed you his handkerchief.

"Get a check up at the mansion soon, alright?" He said, his gaze averted to the empty glass sitting in front of you both.

You gave him a small smile; you had first met Giyuu three months before his final selection at Urokodaki's hut. He was your senior at the previous Water hashira's house. But, all your ties were cut after you had cultivated your own breathing style. It hurt you to see him being so painfully misunderstood, because you knew that he cared. He cared in his own way.

Yet when you see the Giyuu in front of you and the Giyuu you remember, there's a vast difference.

How could there not be?

You won't pry for his well being though, you don't need to. You suddenly remembered to write to the old man Urokodaki, you would soon.

"I will, Giyuu san," you replied, leaning back on your chair.

"l/n?"

"Yes?"

"What if... you come across a demon that doesn't kill humans?" Giyuu asked, his gaze still fixated on the empty glass.

"What? That's impossible, isn't it? A demon not wanting to eat human flesh?" You laughed, but something in Giyuu's demeanor made you think that it wasn't a joke.

"Only Muzan can do that right?" You asked, more alert than before as you tried to keep down all the foreign voices at the party.

". . ."

"Giyuu san," you said, your eyes squinting, "Did you see someone like that?"

"l/n, i-" the water hashira looked at you, he seemed uncomfortable, "there's a new demon slayer—"

"y/n kun! What are you doing sitting with Tomioka san all alone? Hasn't he bored you to death by now?"

You whipped around to see Shinobu grinning at you as Sanemi scoffed at the water pillar.

"Well— he hasn't. He's alright."

"Tomioka san, you shouldn't try to seem likable!"

"...people don't dislike me."

"Oh wow! Do you seriously believe that?" Shinobu gasped as you looked at Tomioka, you couldn't ask him for an explanation now— he looked too uncomfortable even in front of you to open up right away, it wouldn't be nice if you make him unload his baggage in front of everyone.

"Don't bully him, Shinobu," you nudged your friend as she grinned at you, "What do you need?" You asked with a smile.

"Has Tomioka's language skills rubbed off on you," she retorted as Sanemi rolled his eyes, "Well whatever, let's us all drink; This party exists so that we can strengthen our bonds and take a break, we should honor Oyakata sama's wishes."

"You should join us too, Tomioka san, even though it's not really required—"

"He will join us," You answered on Giyuu's behalf as you pulled him at front.

"She said it isn't required—"

"It is." You shut him up.

"Alright."

You all gathered at the huge table at the centre of the garden, Uzui sat at the head's seat while Rengoku sat just in front of you, he passed you a smile which you happily returned.

"Oh y/n kun! You look pretty," Mitsuri gasped as she looked at you. You blushed.

"Thankyou so much."

You felt Obanai's glare. Was it too hot today?

"Let us all drink and get to know each other well!" Shinobu announced as she beamed at others— she looked so passive aggressive at times—

You weren't against the idea, but was it safe for all of you to become drunkards? Plus, there was Muichiro.

"That excluded you, Muichiro kun, you shall eat rice," Himejima pushed a bowl in front of the boy's place. At least one problem was solved.

You were still astounded at the fact that everyone actually attended the party, although it was master's order.

"Are we sure we should all drink?" You voiced out. "We have to return back to our homes and prepare for our next mission— should we drink at all?"

"You worry too much, y/n-kun!" Shinobu smiled at you, "Uzui san, Rengoku san and Shinazugawa san all can hold their liquor— Kanroji kun isn't even affected by it. We will be fine! Plus we all have exceptional tolerance."

You reluctantly nodded at the insect pillar.

"Though, I am not sure about Tomioka san, did he ever drink with his friends before?"

"I haven't."

YOU SHOULDN'T ADMIT THAT!

"Ah... Poor Tomioka san..."

"I am not poor..."

Yeah, you couldn't help him anymore.

Your eyes flickered towards Rengoku from Giyuu who was already eyeing you intently as an unknown blush crept up to your cheeks, yet you couldn't help but notice that, Rengoku was also staring at the handkerchief in your hands, very intently too.

Turns out you can't actually hold onto your liquor and it's pretty easy to get you drunk— along with Mitsuri.

Somehow you're sitting next to Rengoku now, as Obanai sits in your previous place between Mitsuri and Giyuu. Uzui shamelessly made out with his wives while Muichiro and Shinazugawa talked to Himejima, you could barely make out Giyuu and Shinobu quarreling on something.

But despite this admittedly exciting background, you could only focus at Rengoku.

"Did i tell you that you look very handsome today, Rengoku san?" You giggled as you laid your head on the table, looking up at Rengoku as he beamed at you.

"Hmm yes! Today! Before the party!"

"Did i now?" You pouted, covering your face with your hands, "Can I tell you again?"

"Haha! You may," he smiled at you, his heart racing because of your cuteness, how could someone as strong as you come off as such a little fluffball?

"But, i don't think you like me!" You pouted, smashing your face into the table as Rengoku tried to steady you.

His heart clenched, did he do something to make you feel that way?

"Why do you think that?" He asked, his voice quieter than before as you gazed up at him, "You didn't talk to me at the party even once!"

"Did i not? I'm sorry for that."

"You should be," you huffed as you leaned your head on his shoulder, making him blush slightly. "Don't be mean to me!"

"I promise I will not be," he smiled at your antics as you rested yourself on his shoulder, feeling more safe than ever. "l/n kun?"

"yes?"

"You look beautiful."

"Thankyou," you giggled as you closed your eyes, falling into a deep slumber.

Being with Rengoku always made you feel safe and secure, yes, you did fall asleep in front of him too much when you shouldn't— but did it matter? You were drunk and your crush was finding you adorable. You were on top of the world.

Shinobu's eyes fell upon you both as Rengoku's chest swelled with warmth, he loved it whenever you would get so vulnerable and light-hearted with him, it made him feel like you trusted him. Trusted him enough to show your inner child to him.

"It's cute how she fell asleep so easily after drinking," Shinobu said, her eyes on you.

Rengoku furrowed his brows, fell asleep easily? More often than not he had seen you dozing off earnestly.

"What do you mean?" He asked Shinobu as the insect pillar patted your head.

"She has acute insomnia because of her paranoia, it's hard for her to fall asleep usually— that's why I always urge her to visit for a checkup, but she rarely does," Shinobu said as she looked at Rengoku, "though the situation feels better now."

Rengoku's golden eyes flickered towards your figure which was half sprawled on him, his hands clutching your arm so that you don't fall as he tried to hide his smile, did you feel safe with him? He wondered as he got up from his seat, steadying your half limp body.

"I will get going," he announced to Tengen as the latter just nodded at him.

"Will you drop her off?" The sound pillar asked as he motioned towards your figure.

"Hmm. I will," Rengoku smiled at him as he picked you up gingerly, afraid of waking you up.

He called a cab as he placed you down on the seat, requesting the driver to drive slowly.

He chuckled as he saw you snuggling deeper into the seat, a small smile on your face as you lazily gazed up at Rengoku.

"Hehe, I like you very much, Rengoku san."

The second time you had met Rengoku was two months after the final selection, at the foothills of a huge mountain where you laid severely injured as the yellow haired man scrambled towards you.

"Shit— it really is you, l/n," you could hear his loud voice as you tried to breathe softly, energy draining from your body as you saw the flame haired man patch you up.

He smiled at you when he saw that you were conscious, "Hey there! I never assumed we would meet this way."

"i hope we don't ever meet this way again," you could hear him say.

"Reinforcements..." You muttered out, your voice strained as the man tried to help you lay down.

"Don't sit up, you would lose blood that way!" He scolded as he laid you down, "and for reinforcements— the stone pillar was sent here when it was determined that the demon was a lower moon."

You looked around yourself, corpses of demon slayers laid out in the open ground as tears welled up in your eyes, you were so useless— so helpless against the strong foe.

"The stone hashira took care of the demon," Rengoku said as he helped you sit up after patching your wound at your stomach. You saw a wound on his shoulder, blood seeping from it.

"You're hurt," you whispered, you hand on his arm as he smiled at you, "Himejima sama was fast, I didn't get hurt badly."

You nodded as you leaned your head back, trying to relax.

You remembered that a number of demon slayers were sent behind the demon, numerous of lower classes trying to make up for a lack of hashira as you winced in pain.

"You're strong," you said, your eyes on Rengoku as you saw his eyes widening slightly, "Not really, I was useless against the demon," he said, his smile unfaltering.

"I have to train a lot more," he said, crouching in front of you.

"At least you were able to give him a fight," you muttered, looking down at your hands as Rengoku's hands went up to your face, he levelled your chin up to look at him as he said, "I knew you would make it out alive. You know why?"

"... Why?"

"Because you're strong too," he smiled at you as he turned out, his back facing you, "come now, get on."

"What?"

"Let me take you to the butterfly mansion," he grinned at you as you smiled at him. Grateful for having a friend.

It had only been a few months and Rengoku had gone up from Mizunoto to Kanoe; while you were still a Mizunoe. It was embarrassing but you were alright, you would train harder to get on to the same level as him. He was the motivation you needed in this cruel world, even if you didn't register it yourself.

While you dreamt happily, Rengoku was stuck in a dilemma as he held you in his arms in front of your house. You weren't waking up at all, should he break into your house? Or should he take you as a guest to his family mansion?

He heard you mumbled some incoherent sentences against his chest as his heart swelled, along with a little guilt. He couldn't help it, could he?

He moved towards his house with you in his hands.

He would keep you away from his father's gaze and take care of you in his own house, until you wake up.

He cursed at himself as he admired your soft figure, how was he to stay strong when you were so cute in his arms?

When you woke up in a different room than yours you groaned at yourself, were you a nuisance to sound hashira last night?

Bracing yourself for incessant snarks from Uzui, you readied yourself before stepping out of the admittedly pretty and traditional room.

But, you were met with a different entity entirely, a little boy with very similar looks to Rengoku as your eyes widened.

"Senjuro kun?" You asked, your mind racing as you tried to figure out just what you did last night— but, it was all a blur, any memory after the sound hashira's house was a total blur.

Also, this permeating headache was nearly killing you.

"l/n san! Good morning," the boy smiled at you as he passed a tray towards you, you felt queasy looking at the food as you swore you wouldn't drink anymore.

"Good morning," you muttered out, your throat dry as you realised just how horrible you must be looking, should you really step in Rengoku's mansion like this? The thought of your physical condition made you more sick, you didn't care about the way you looked in front of Uzui— he was honestly like a big brother. But, Kyojuro Rengoku was another deal—

"This is for your hangover, you will feel better after this," the boy said as he passed you the fluid and you drank it in a gulp.

"That wasn't very tasty."

"It isn't supposed to be," Senjuro laughed at you as he took the dish from your hands, "you must have drunk a lot for nii-san to carry you here."

"You're telling me Rengoku carried me here?"

"Precisely."

"Wow, i must be such a burden."

"I don't think he felt the weight."

"Did you- did you just affirm that I am a burden?" You asked incredulously as Senjuro laughed at you.

You came to know Senjuro and Mitsuri because of Rengoku, yet— yet, you were closer to them than Rengoku. In the past, you had a habit of running away whenever Rengoku approached you, so that wasn't a surprise.

"I should go and say sorry, shouldn't i?" You said as Senjuro shrugged, "Someone made you hangover drink."

"Thankyou, dammit!"

"Mention not."

"Where is he?" You asked the boy as he smiled, "I think he just went towards the market to prepare for his mission."

"He has a mission today?"

"That's why he didn't drink yesterday," Senjuro said as he pulled a broom out of nowhere and went towards the garden.

"I would advise you to hurry to meet him before he actually steps into the market, you won't get to talk to him after that."

You rushed out of Rengoku's mansion but, really... You were late, or the hashira was too fast as you panted outside your house.

Your home was closer to the market than Rengoku's, so if he was returning anytime soon, you would meet him in front of your house.

"Oh? l/n!"

His loud voice boomed around your house as you smiled at him, waving at him sluggishly as he trotted towards you.

"Are you alright?" He asked, a smile on his face.

"I am, thanks for carrying me yesterday."

"It's no problem!"

"And sorry for being such an inconvenience—"

"You weren't," he cut you off as you noticed a change in his glances towards you, were you still dreaming?

"I- did I do anything weird yesterday?" You asked, playing with your cuffs as you looked at him bashfully.

"Haha! Not really, you were just singing some sappy songs on the way, do you not remember?" He asked, his glare more demanding than before.

"I was?" You squeaked as you looked at him, embarrassment flooding your cheeks, "I-I am sorry, I don't remember anything of yesterday," you admitted.

"oh... I see."

Did something happen yesterday? Did you say anything?

"It's alright, l/n, you were nice to me even when you were drunk," Rengoku smiled, he didn't lie— he hated lying, but half-truths weren't lies right?

"Yet again sorry—"

"It's alright, you didn't mean it... you didn't mean anything."

Something in his words made you snap into reality more than before as you looked at the food in his hands.

"Oh right, today's your mission right? When are you leaving?" You asked as Rengoku looked at the food in his hands momentarily.

"I will be leaving tonight," he said, "Something about frequent disappearances at the mountain, I hope it's not a demon."

You hummed at affirmation as you looked at his golden eyes, which ignited certain spark in your heart.

"Rengoku san?"

"yes?"

"When you return, can I treat you to a meal?" as a date, you wanted to add but you couldn't.

But, the flame haired smiled widely at you, as if just the offer was enough to fill warmth into his heart.

"Sure l/n kun, I will look forward to it!"

"Take care... Rengoku san," you said as a slight blush graced your features.

He looked at you in sheer silence for a while as he raised his hand to pat your head, full adoration in his voice as his eyes crinckled, "I will, l/n kun. Promise me you will take care of yourself too?"

You smiled, "I will."

more at chapter 3! (coming soon)

not kidding, I wanted to publish this chapter within ten days of ch1 but it stretched to 11 days T-T

though, I do hope you all had fun reading it!

tags : @atmosphinx @sanjunlvr (you seemed interested in the fic so I thought to tag you, if you don't want to be disturbed, kindly let me know! thankyou <;3)

kny tmi! - canon

rengoku possibly burst his eardrums when he was fighting the lower moon 2 for his position as a hashira— that's why his voice is too loud lol.

as far as I remember, when shinjuro stepped down as his position as a hashira rengoku went into a hashira meeting unannounced on behalf of his father when he wasn't even a tsuguko! thus, he had to kill a lower moon asap to become a flame hashira and step in his father's position!

[achaotichuman]

An AU where tamlin (disguised as female) and rhysand fall in love tthen tamlins like wait i have to tell u something then rhys finds outs hes tamlin and undergoes a sexuality crisis

YES, I LOVE THIS PROMPT. Don't know why but this is giving me a Cinderella retelling vibe. Btw sorry for the late response anon, but here's how I think this would go down.

*Trigger Warning- Innuendoes, non-explicit mature content.*

The white trail of her dress was like an angel's wings dragging across stone carved from the mountains of Hell. Lace lined her arms and the top of her breasts. A long slit ran up the side of her thigh, revealing the same lace work hugging her legs.

Golden hair spilled down her back and shoulders, flowers and rings of gold weaved through those luscious strands. Her shoulders and collarbone deliciously bare, off the shoulder sleeves hung over the lace of her forearms. An angel indeed, left in the company of devils.

Rhysand watched her from his throne. His eyes locked in on those slender legs as they moved her through the crowd. The females eyed her, disgust twisting in their face, constricting their eyes and noses. Males stepped out of her way as she moved past them like fluid.

A powerful, or perhaps idiotic, decision to wear such garments, not a stain on the white silk. A symbol of purity, as if anyone from this Godforsaken city could be called pure.

She looked up to the throne set high above the people below it. Her eyes were of the deepest green, as if they had been sucked from the heart of a forest, flecked with gold like stars. Their gazes locked and for a moment, the world ceased to exist, everything turning to a black void and low drone of voices. Even though her head was tilted up to see him, Rhysand couldn't help but feel like she was looking down on him, like his existence was worth little more to her than whoever else wished for her presence in bed, or hand in marriage.

Then she turned away, she turned away and every nerve in his body burned for her to look at him again.

What was this strange, heady feeling? Rhysand tilted his head, watching as she walked back into the crowd, unable to disappear from view, as she was a sliver of light in the sea of black and deep Night Court purple.

'Are you staring at her?' A familiar laughing voice boomed in his head. Rhysand allowed the smallest of smirks as he cast his eyes in the direction of his friend and General.

Cassian grinned back from his place beside Azriel, stationed close to the throne but not close enough that they overshadowed him.

'There are many 'hers' here tonight, Cass, enlighten me on which you speak of.'

'Oh, don't be so formal, High lord. The pretty one in the white dress, everyone's lookin at her.' He murmured it in such a low tone Rhysand had to suppress the urge to snap.

'Careful Cass,' Azriel murmured through the mental bond, 'Rhysand's already called first bite.'

'There is no first bite, Azriel.' Rhysand replied smoothly, 'Though it is a... proud choice to wear such clothing.'

'A cocky choice more like it.' There was Mor, Rhysand was wondering when she would but in with her opinion, 'To wear robes like that when our Court uniform is solely black, blue and purple is insulting at the least, an act of defiance at worst.'

'Calm yourself, Mor. She hasn't done anything as of yet.' Rhysand drawled.

'Apart from looking like an angel with her wings cut off.' Cassian said.

'Get back to work you three.' Rhysand ordered, shutting out the tones of his friends before resuming his former position, sitting on an oversized throne being bored as all Hell.

Rhysand scanned the ballroom again, watching the waltzing taking place before him. The deep, low tones of the music in the air hummed like background noise, nothing more than decorative festivities meant to give the people an opportunity to move their bodies in a fashion that wasn't simply standing around.

Music had never been the Hewn City's strong point. Such artistry was better off in Velaris, where good people could actually be found.

Rhysand sighed, if the Darkbringer's army wasn't so powerful he would have had Azriel and Cassian bring the foundations of this place down and allow the wicked cruelty festering down here to be crushed. That's all these people deserved after all.

Too lost in his own bored musings, Rhysand failed to notice the swift, silent steps coming for him until she was standing directly before him.

Rhysand near jolted but forced his body to remain calm. Up close she was even more beautiful than he could have ever imagined.

Her arms were toned and muscular, her waist clipped and hips flaring out to show off curvy thighs. For a moment the urge to grab them squeeze pricked his mind.

"You are standing before the throne, yet you are not on your knees?" Rhysand hummed, his voice deceivingly kind.

The female before him wasn't stupid and he figured that out quickly by the hardened glare she gave him. But it was clear to see she lacked fear of consequence, because the first words she spoke to him were, "Do you always just sit on your ass on this throne, or will you actually mingle with your own people?"

Rhysand opened and closed his mouth, completely and utterly at a loss for words.

"I beg your pardon."

"My pardon is granted; now will you answer my question?"

Rhysand stared at her, unable to form a coherent sentence that did not entail yelling his indignation. So, he opted for a gentle brush of his talons against her mind.

Finally, she narrowed her eyes and took a slight step back on instinct, remembering how dangerous the male before her truly was.

"Are you drunk, lady? Or perhaps do you lack self-preservation? You stand before my throne, asking insulting questions and assuming you give pardon to me?"

She tilted her head to the side as if she was truly pondering his question, "It has been mentioned that I lack any real self-preservation, but I like to call it a lack of tolerance for entitled self-serving Night Court royals."

Rhysand couldn't help it, he snorted, a quick, genuine sound. He had no idea how it even slipped past his defenses. Her lips quirked up in a slight grin, counting his reaction as a win on her side. He quickly coughed into his hand trying to cover the sound but that only seemed to serve to amuse her more.

"What is your purpose in antagonizing me, lady?"

"I am not antagonizing; I am asking a genuine question. Are you going to sit on your ass for the whole party, or will you join the festivities?"

"I'd hardly call this," He gestured to the stiff, tense dancing- if one could call it that- taking place below them, "Dancing."

She glanced at the people behind her, then she looked over him again. Her green eyes so sharp as they swooped up and down him like a predator's watchful gaze.

Even though she was but another Hewn City citizen that he could have tortured and executed if he wished for it, Rhysand couldn't help but feel as though he was not the one in control.

"Perhaps the people would be more responsive if their ruler joined them instead of sitting up so high above them." She crossed her arms, shifting her weight to her left leg as she waited for his reaction.

"Who are you to tell me how to rule my people?"

She grinned at his scowl. A grin with bone white teeth and sharp, gleaming fangs. Between that glowing smile and the way those gold specks in her eyes seemed to shine brighter, Rhysand felt his world shift from one side to the other and it was dizzying.

"I am the person telling you to get off your ass and come dance." She said.

Rhysand blinked his violet eyes; she blinked her green ones back.

"Are-are you asking me to dance?"

"No."

"No?"

She took his hand in her own. Her hands weren't soft and dainty, no, they were calloused and firm. Hands like his. Hands that were used.

She tugged and Rhysand, adding horror to curiosity, followed her silent order. He stood up.

The High lord was marginally taller than the female before him. But he was surprised at her height regardless. In a good set of heels, she would surely surpass him.

She was playing some game, doing something to him that Rhysand couldn't figure out.

"Asking would insinuate you had a choice to dance or not, you're dancing with me, that's final." Her cheeky pink tongue slid across her fangs, red spread across Rhysand's face. A strip of blotchy red that undoubtedly did not escape her cunning eyes.

Sucking in a breath, Rhysand tried to find the will to rebuke her. But before he even got a sentence out, she was pulling him down to the dance floor.

Looking out at the sea of people. Rhysand watched as jaws dropped and eyes widened. Even the music from the orchestra faltered for a moment as eyes went to the feared High lord of Night being half-dragged by a strange, beautiful female in a dress of pure white.

When Rhysand's eyes snapped to those watching they quickly resumed their ministrations. Pointedly not making any eye-contact with the Lord or the mysterious lady.

Once in the center of the room, she spun on her heel and put a hand to his shoulder, forcibly placing his hand on her waist. Then she smiled up at him. A beautiful display of pearly whites with a sweet gaze.

"Well High lord? Show us all what talents you keep hidden while you're sitting on the throne."

*** "What do you mean she can't be found?!" Rhysand yelled, Azriel didn't so much as flinch, Rhysand did notice the slight roll of his eyes.

"I mean no one can find her. Like she just," Azriel gestured to nothing, "Disappeared into the night air, and from what I've gathered, no one had ever seen her before."

"What does that mean?" The High lord hissed, knowing very well what that meant.

"It means your little crush wasn't from the Hewn City, somehow she snuck in there. Which means she could be from anywhere."

"Impossible. It's impossible to leave the Hewn City or enter it without my permission." Rhysand stood up from his chair, walking away from his desk and towards the large window behind him. Looking out over the view of Velaris. Soft evening sun was upon the world, casting tall shadows over the ground and filling the air with a soft cool breeze. The scattered lights of the city looked like stars on Earth.

"Even if she somehow snuck in as you say, she couldn't have left. The security is to tight."

"I don't know what to tell you Rhysand, she danced with you then disappeared."

"Impossible." Rhysand repeated shaking his head.

Her waist in his hand had been like heaven pressed against him. Looking down into her eyes are they moved, spun and turned had been a religious experience. Nothing in the world compared to her long fingers travelling up his neck to brush the underside of his chin. No drug in the world could ever get him higher then when she had let him spin her away from the ballroom.

"Hello, Night Court to Rhysand!" Cassian smacked the side of his head. Rhysand reeled around and went to punch him right in the throat, but the larger male caught his arm before he could get close.

"Give it up, Rhys, it's been a week. The girl's not comin back." His General told him.

"You don't get it, Cass. She..." How could he move on from that. From the heady feeling of her hands on his body, travelling to find any skin not protected by his clothing. Nothing could compare to her heavenly voice whispering back-handed compliments and jokes about him stepping on her toes.

"Cassian's right, Rhys. Let it go. Who knows? Maybe you'll find her again. For now, we have other priorities." Azriel insisted.

With a strained groan, Rhysand turned back to the window and put his hands to his head.

They were right, of course they were right.

But how could he focus on other things when he could only feel her lips on his skin when he led her out into the dark, empty hallways, away from the ballroom?

***

He dreamt of her. He dreamt of that night. Of her dress flaring out, brushing his legs as they danced. He dreamt of her laughter, a honey-sweet sound in the midst of so much darkness. He dreamt of her knowing smile, and the expression on her face. As if whatever game she was playing, she had won.

He dreamt of whispering in her ear. Turning up his charm, trying, near desperate for a chance as she seduced him within an inch of his life.

He dreamt of her hands wrapping around the collar of his shirt and her telling him to make it worth her while.

Pinning her against the cold wall. Rhysand buried his nose into the crook of her neck. She laughed and buried her fingers in his dark hair, pulling until he looked back into her eyes.

She smirked, a glint of danger in her eyes. Quicker than his hazy brain could think, she jutted her head down and nipped his neck, leaving a small bite mark. Rhysand near lost his damn mind. Roughly grabbing her hips he shoved her more forcefully against the wall. His own head going down onto her neck. Leaving darkened bruises on her pale skin.

She clicked her tongue, "So rough, needy, are we?"

"Gods above."

"The Gods aren't down here, High lord. No one but the devil is watching our sins." She murmured in such a seductively low tone; Rhysand may have lost a part of his mind to her in that very moment.

Trying to keep his thoughts on one track. Rhysand moved his hands up and down her thighs, bunching her skirts in his hands. Her breaths turned heavy, and her face went a splotchy red. Rhysand felt a smirk matching hers curling on his lips.

"You're right. No one's here to see how the Lord of Night plays with such alluring delights like you."

"All talk. No play." She drawled.

"Not one for foreplay, darling?"

"I'm one for proving you know how to wield the thing between your legs, darlin."

Rhysand loosened a near feral noise. But as he went to push back her skirts to reveal what was between her legs, the loud ringing of the stroke of midnight rang true through the Hewn City.

She sucked in a breath and drew back from him, eyes wide and mouth agape.

"Is something amiss, lady?" Rhysand asked, trying to keep the hot, heady feeling of the moment but concerned for her reaction.

"Midnight." She whispered.

"Yes, lady." Perhaps she was on a curfew, that was true for a great number of females in this City, "Do not worry over any curfew, I will grant you-"

"No," She sharply pulled away from him, forcing his hands off her, "No, no, I have to leave."

"Lady, I-"

"This was good," She smiled, it was girlish smile that he hadn't seen before, almost an apology for her hasty escape, "This was good, but I must go."

Then she was sprinting down the hall. Dress following her like a cape. Rhysand watched her, stunned into immobility.

He looked at the place she had just been, then a vital thought crossed his mind. He didn't have her name. Without another thought, the High lord of Night found himself racing after her.

"Lady! My Lady, wait!" He called out, but she didn't slow. Grabbing the edge of a corner she whirled around and was gone from Rhysand's eyes.

As he rounded the corner and stared down the dark hallway. She was gone. Disappeared into thin air. If it weren't for her floral scent clinging to everything he was, he would've convinced himself she was never there.

***

Rhysand dug his spoon into the tasteless porridge before him. Flinging small scraps onto the table. He pointedly didn't look at any of his family.

After Rhysand set his cup of near empty coffee on the table with an unnecessarily loud clang, Mor growled, "Rhysand, what is your problem?"

"Nothing is my problem, Morrigan." He hissed back, finally looking up to meet her equally hateful stare.

"He's lusting after the angel he saw two weeks ago in the Hewn City. Mad he can't find her again." Cassian dobbed on him. Grinning as he swallowed his own breakfast.

"Angel? You mean the girl wearing white?" Morrigan rolled her eyes, "She was arrogant for wearing that. It was practically bridal wear."

"She looked like a Goddess on Earth." Rhysand cut her off.

Morrigan levelled him with a hard stare, "Rhysand, leave the shitty poetry for Tamlin."

Azriel nearly choked on his coffee as he started giggling, his shoulders shaking. Rhysand growled at all of them, "I don't understand how no one has seen her since. Azriel, instead of laughing, how about you go and make sure the sentries at the Hewn City aren't skimping on their jobs?"

Azriel held up his hands, in an 'I'm innocent' manner, "Don't snap at me. I have checked every nook and cranny. Skewered every sentry for information. No one saw her enter, and no one saw her leave."

Cassian hummed in a low tone, "There could be a weakness in the Hewn Cities defenses allowing people to enter and leave as they please."

"Which means you both check again. From top to bottom, side to side, I don't want one household, one corridor, one room unaccounted for."

"Yes, Lord fell in love after one dance." Cassian taunted as he stood from the dining table. Looking at Azriel, he jutted his head to the door and the Shadowsinger nodded. Standing up he gave Rhysand a warning glare, before he followed his brother out the door.

Only Mor and Rhysand were left in the room. Not for long as Morrigan stood up, picking up her plate before she looked down at Rhysand.

"That female was in the wrong for wearing a white dress. Don't waste your feelings on such women." Mor warned him, before disappearing as well.

Rhysand never got the chance to tell his cousin, that the cocky, self-assured attitude that female had was half the reason he was going insane for her.

***

A year passed and Rhysand never saw the female again. But he didn't forget that night. It repeated in his head over and over. He examined every word, every expression, every shift of her lips or eyebrows. Every movement of her dress shifting on her body. He didn't forget. Couldn't forget. In his hottest fantasies he sought out the feeling of her skin under his fingers, in his darkest nightmares it was her warmth he was drawn too.

Over and over, he spun himself in circles. Trying to forget and move on, but lulled back into her memory like she lived in his head. Always finding him, never letting him leave. At times Rhysand wanted nothing more than to comb through every household, every road, every path in Prythian just to hear her laughter in the distance. Other times he wanted to rip out his mind and meticulously pick her memory out of his head, just so he could focus on something else without her smile lurking in the corner of his thoughts.

Cassian and Azriel had long accepted he was going to take a good long while to get over her. So, they resorted to simple teasings and rolling their eyes. Morrigan was less inclined to entertain his pining. Snapping at him whenever his mysterious lover came up. Becoming colder and more reserved. He didn't know whys he was so affected by her. Why she hated the idea of this woman just for wearing white.

He supposed it should've been considered an insult for her to wear such as color when she had nowhere near the authority. But Rhysand couldn't bring himself to care.

He wouldn't see her again, that he was starting to convince himself of. Finally, on solstice when he went the whole day without thinking about her, Rhysand thought he was ridding himself of her.

Then he was invited to a solstice celebration, hosted by Helion.

They all went. Everyone did. Even the other High lords. The Day Court palace had been transformed into a party, decorated with gold and lights that swirled in his vision. The drone of voices filled the air. The smells of good food and wine enticed Rhysand to fall away from his entourage not long after they arrived. Blending into the crowd. Rhysand found a male offering drinks to all, he took a glass and sipped on the delectable liquid whilst observing the party from the outskirts.

People danced, spinning around, twirling, pushing and pulling. Music was in the air, blending into the mix of laughter and chatter.

"Don't have a throne to sit your ass on," Every part of Rhysand's body was set on fire as he heard the voice that haunted his dreams whispering in his ear. He couldn't even turn as a too familiar hand slid down his chest, "So you're standing out here, avoiding everyone."

Rhysand finally forced his eyes to turn, and there she stood. His memory did her no justice, for she glowed with an alluring nature that his mind could not capture. Those golden curls were decorated with the same flowers and golden rings as before, except tonight a pair of striking antlers stood out like a crown.

Instead of that heart-stopping white dress, she wore something very different but equally as royal, equally made Rhysand wished to tear it away. A suit of dark emerald, green, a pressed white shirt underneath a waistcoat decorated with striking golden embroidery that swirled in the shape of flowers. A long jacket made with the same material as the waistcoat covered her arms and slid around her waist. Rhysand wanted to rip it away and place his hands on her waist once more.

"It's you." He breathed, unable to say anything more.

"Miss me, High lord?" She murmured, voice falling into that seductive low tone. Rhysand went weak, becoming nothing but putty for her hands.

Near shaking, Rhysand took both her hands in his. Gently pressing a kiss to each finger, he whispered against her skin, "Dearly."

She took in a breath, when he looked up, he saw her green eyes were soft. Her face ethereal, warm in the light, divine like a Goddess.

"I missed you too." She admitted.

"My darling-" He started, then she pressed a finger to his lips.

"Come with me somewhere... private." She said, looking out at the sea of people.

His blood started racing. Heat warmed his cheeks. As much as Rhysand wanted to take her against the floor where they stood, he found a different desire was battling his sexual ones. The urge to pull her close, breathe in her scent and forget the rest of the world existed was getting stronger by the minute.

She held onto his hands tightly. Then she moved, dragging him along behind him like she did when she took him off the throne. Rhysand went more than willingly. She kept them in the shadows of the party. Not a soul paid them any attention.

They found an empty balcony. She all but shoved him out then closed the curtains and the glass door.

Finally, she tuned back to him. Oh gods, if she looked beautiful in the warm chandelier light, she looked bewitching in the silver of the moon. Rhysand nearly dropped to his knees. In that moment, if the female before him told him to martyr himself in her name, he would've and he would've done it smiling.

How did one person he met a year ago have such a hold over him?

"Darling." He meant to purr the word, but it came out broken, desperate, near begging. He planted his hand on her hips and pulled her close. Pressing his nose into crook of her neck like he had in his dreams an unaccountable number of times, "My darling."

She slid her hands up his chest and Rhysand felt higher than the moon itself. Felt like he was amongst the stars themselves.

Then she pushed him away. Rhysand panicked for a moment. Fear took hold of him, strangling him till he couldn't breathe. Fear she would run away. Fear he would never see her again.

"Wait-" he started. Then she grabbed onto the collar of his shirt, keeping him at an arm's length but not letting go. It eased only a sliver of his worry.

"Rhysand," She murmured. Oh, gods his name on her tongue was like being handed a slice of heaven itself.

"Yes, my darling."

"I... you have to forget me." She told him.

Everything spinning his world came to a crashing halt, "My... my lady, I-"

"Forget me, forget everything about me. This cannot be." She told him, beginning to let go of his collar. Beginning to let go of him.

He was quicker than her this time. This time he didn't let her leave him. He took hold of her waist and pulled her back to him.

"What do you mean it cannot be?"

"I cannot be with you, you not with me. It would never work. It... we can't."

"We can." Perhaps she was already engaged? A forced marriage maybe? Or was she worried about someone low-ranking being with a High lord.

"Rhysand-"

"It will work, I will make it work. I will kill any that need to be killed. I will fix anything that needs to be fixed. I will get on my knees for you if that's what you want, please just... don't leave me again."

Tears pooled in her eyes; Rhysand desperately wanted to get rid of them.

"There is something about me you must know Rhysand." She said.

"Tell me, whatever it is, I can handle it." He insisted.

She huffed a laugh and lightly shook her head, "You will hate me once you know it. You will hate me and you will make my life hell for it. I would rather you just forget me."

"No. Never." He nearly shuddered, what could she know that would possible invoke his wrath?

"You are going to hate me." She told him, not a question, a factual statement.

"Tell me anyway." He said.

She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. Stepping away from him she forced him to let go. He felt the need to reach out, but held himself back.

Then in the blink of an eye, she changed. Her suit changed as well to fit the new body it held. Her torso became longer. Her shoulders filled out the shirt more. In a second she was taller, almost exactly his height. Her jaw become more carved, slightly broader. But her eyes, hair and skin stayed the same.

Rhysand felt his mouth fall open as a ringing in his ear drowned out the background noise of the party.

Tamlin pointedly did not look at him. He looked out over the view of the Day Court. Rhysand's eyes could only look him up and down.

"I'm sorry Rhys." Tamlin murmured. His voice deepened, but still rich like the sweetest of honey, "I'm sorry."

How...

"I wanted to escape for one night. I went to the Hewn City, it was the only place completely and utterly removed from Prythian. I saw you and I... it pissed me off how high and mighty you looked. I didn't know how far it would go."

How did...

"I had to go back at midnight, lest Lucien and Andras send out a search party looking for me. But I... I couldn't stop... thinking about you." He whispered the last three words like they were cursed.

How did Rhysand never know?

Everything about Tamlin had remained Tamlin in his female form, except having a more feminine look and high-pitched voice. His personality remained precisely the same. The same sarcastic, dare-devil attitude. The same cocky, self-assured air about him. The same cheeky smart cunningness.

"I'm sorry for leading you on, but I-"

Rhysand laughed; he couldn't stop it. It burst from his throat like a tidal wave. He nearly doubled over. Tears springing from his eyes.

Tamlin's face turned from shock to indignation and finally mild amusement. He crossed his arms and waited for Rhysand to collect himself.

"You done, yet?" Tamlin drawled. Rhysand forced himself to take in a deep breath, controlling himself.

"Yes." Rhysand said.

They both looked at each other. This was the first real one-on-one interaction with each other since... since that night all those years ago.

"Do you hate me?" Tamlin whispered, "Not just for before but... for this?"

Rhysand barely heard the question, too busy watching the way a hair fell from its place to frame Tamlin's face.

"I..."

Did he?

He should. He had to. He had to feel angry for this. For being led on like this.

But he couldn't. The fire he had felt when Tamlin appeared in female form just minutes prior still burned, in fact... it was getting hotter.

"I don't know." Rhysand said.

Tamlin gritted his teeth, not liking that answer. He turned on his heel, striding away from Rhysand. He opened the glass door and called over his shoulder, "Well when you figure it out,"

Tamlin turned just enough to look Rhysand in the eyes, "You know where to find me."

Tamlin tossed the curtains open and they were faced with the Inner Circle staring at them with wide eyes and open mouths.

Tamlin just gave them a cocky grin and a wave before he strolled away. Heading for Lucien and Andras who called him over, oblivious to what had just occurred.

***

No one had spoken to him. And Rhysand didn't speak to them. Once they got home, he beeline for his office, shut and locked the door. They all assumed he was humiliated. Embarrassed at having been obsessed with the male he claimed to loathe.

Rhysand sat in his office for days. The shadow twins brought him meals. Neither speaking, just walking through the walls to hand him whatever they had prepared, then they left.

They all assumed he was thinking of ways to murder the male that had made him insane for a year.

They were all so far from the truth.

Rhysand sat in his chair, staring out at his city, wondering how Tamlin was still stuck in his mind.

He half-expected to at least be only thinking of Tamlin's female form. Still obsessed with how she looked.

But no, his mind wouldn't let him think of her, he could only think of him. Could only think of Tamlin's laughter, Tamlin's smile, Tamlin's face. Tamlin dancing with him. Tamlin touching him. Tamlin beneath him-

Rhysand scrubbed his face with dry hands. Trying to rid his mind of those thoughts.

He shouldn't think like that. He was a High lord for the God's sake. It was his Cauldron-given duty to marry a female. Fuck a female. Put an heir in a female. And give the Court their next High lord. All with a female.

What kind of reasoning was that? He shouldn't be thinking like this because it wasn't him. He didn't... males simply didn't think like that. It was... it wasn't.

What was he trying to convince himself of? Didn't he preach about Velaris being a safe haven for all that wanted to do as they wished with their bodies, give their love to whomever?

Everyone else could do what they wanted. But he couldn't. He wasn't like that. He just wasn't.

Right?

Right.

Tamlin's eyes appeared in his mind's vision and Rhysand nearly flipped his desk.

Slamming his head back against his chair, Rhysand groaned loudly.

He stared up at the ceiling, thinking the untouched white would distract him. It only served to make his mind wonder back into dangerous territory. Tamlin with his hand on Rhysand's shoulder. Tamlin nipping his neck with his sharp teeth. Tamlin grinning as Rhysand went down on his knees-

"God's above." Rhysand whispered.

'The Gods aren't down here, High lord. No one but the devil is watching our sins.'

Instead of a female's voice murmuring, it was Tamlin's. Rhysand lost his own breath for a moment, eyes shuddering closed.

Rhysand forced his eyes open. He forced himself to stand up, roughing brushing himself off. He looked out at the view of Velaris.

Hands trembling. He roughly threw open the window. Wings appearing on his back as his wards dropped. He fell into the wind and shadows of Night.

'Do you hate me?' That torturous voice whispered in the cavern of his memory.

"No." Rhysand spoke into the night as his wings snapped out and he shot up into the clouds.

"How could I ever hate the best thing that ever happened to me?"

The twins would go into his office the next morning with breakfast, and they would find an empty room. Mor would be frantic, and Cass and Az would search Velaris from top to bottom.

But they wouldn't find him, because Rhysand was going to the place his mind and heart had been stolen too.

Rhysand was going to Spring.

Rhysand was going to Tamlin.

Thank you so much for this prompt! It was very fun to write!

By the way this is what I imagine Tamlin's dress in the Hewn City to look like. Found this image on my Pinterest feed.

And here's the inspiration for Tam's suit at the Day Court party.

[thrawns-babygirl]

Get You Home (Crosshair x GN!Reader)

Posting this fic on behalf of a good friend at their request. Crosshair/GN!Reader angst

No smut and no warnings outside of intense feels. Let me know what you think so I can pass it on to them.

Word Count: 2900+

Ironic, isn't it, how someone could be created by another just to destroy themselves?

It was the general theme of the various thoughts that swam fervently through your mind, plagued by a vain concept of low boiling anger that managed to settle into reluctant relief before it surfaced.

You didn't want Crosshair to see anything in you that was more than what he needed for this last leap of the journey, a cautious balance of crafted care and reservation of the truth, presented through a gentleness that was far too desperate and pleading as it lingered. Yet he didn't seem to give any indication he took notice of the way you spoke your words as if sending them to him on paper wings, how your touch stayed on his arm so to give him the warmth that you hoped he hadn't already forgotten; and if he did, he certainly didn't speak it. He didn't speak at all once the silence took over, actually.

There was a small exchange of words when you first appeared, clarifying your intentions to free the captive clone and speaking then only when needed to give orders for the escape- though as soon as you pushed the throttle that pulled the ship free of the barrage of lasers and pursuing forces an eerie silence quickly settled, taking place in the air where your shared frantic breaths had left open. Everything seemed to come to a complete halt when the rush of stars that stretched across your vision in such vivid streaks returned to simple dots scattered around the walls of the universe.

"We have to wait here a bit for the others, once they've made it out they'll send us coordinates," You had spoken in a sort of voice you would use on a wounded animal, delicate and fragile and willing to falter if it spared the smallest of harsh tones.

He didn't speak.

Not with words in the least, though there was a story desperate to spill into a sea of tears as his eyes scanned the environment around him. It wasn't one you imagined he knew, but it was evident he saw the symptoms of his brothers in every little out of order detail that scarred this ship, and you could see the moments that took him as he stood and put the refined senses of a sharpshooter to practice.

You saw the way he paused as he noticed a scuff of paint on the piece of durasteel that hung just low enough for someone of Wrecker's height to hit in a rush, leaving behind a streak of white from the drawn face plastered in pale paint on his helmet. You were pretty sure the mark was still there on the armor, would Crosshair look to see if the evidence aligned when he saw the brute again?

Then the clone turned and saw the control panel that was still open with half a scomp sticking out, not that there was any physical memento needed to remember how Echo got stuck when the ship's power faltered and something or another went wrong in just the right way that you had to cut him out. Never really got around to removing the blatant jam in what would be an otherwise useful port, much to your droid's adamant displeasure.

Stepping back now and moving his sights as the man noticed a thin black wire that stuck out from the panel snake up and around until it brought him to the other side of the ship where a signature Tech project had been sitting untouched for a few days. It was a small device that required your input as well as his understanding of the skills needed. At this point you weren't sure if it was work being done for the payoff or simply the time to spend with one another.

Then, finally, Crosshair turned and saw a sight he hadn't seen since they had still called their barracks "home": a board with clear holes and a sloppily drawn target that Hunter often used to hone his accuracy with throwing knives, or even just pass the time when days grew too slow. But this was different. On one side was his clear mastery with a concise series of streaks, and the other one with far more scattered results- even some marks on the walls of the ship- with very few holes decidedly on the target.

"Hunter's been trying to teach me, I'm not that good at it, he said you were the only one who would ever entertain a challenge with him until I came along," An attempt to ease into a conversation, seeing something flash behind Crosshair's eyes as he remained fixated on the board.

The Crosshair described to you was so, so far from the one that stood here now. This wasn't a fire that burned when touched, it was a frost that lost the will to bite. Not the man who would speak slyly with a slick insult as he crossed his arms and looked smug. Not the sniper who never missed a target else he would live down his reputation and have it reflected on the foundation of his purpose. Not the soldier who fought for a cause that he believed in for it was the inspiration for his creation so how could he not?

The way his brothers spoke of him was marred by the rift torn between them, but no matter how muddy the waters became there was still such a clear affection they had for the man that couldn't be drowned by their anger, for it was this reaction alone that lead you to understand that it wasn't just anger it was also hurt and it was quelled questions and it was a desperate plea to the universe for an answer that didn't sting so sharply as the image that it was Crosshair's choice and his alone.

It had been such a subject of debate, recurring and spiraling into a series of speculation until Hunter finally announced the end of it and set everyone to a task to keep the peace. You never understood it much, why they felt the need to ask one another when it was apparent none of them had the grounds to claim to know for sure, unsure if anyone other than the Kaminoans would have such knowledge to begin with. Was it because they wanted to understand the truth that they asked in this way, or because they were too scared of what it could be?

"What did they say about me?" Crosshair had managed a few words, and despite the way they were shaky and weak and falling before they could fly it still took you by surprise.

"Well… a lot of things," Trying to recount something that wouldn't come off as harsh as it had been spoken when one of the boys had let it out with a burning ire. You didn't doubt Crosshair would understand their hatred stemmed from their feelings of betrayal, but there was still no need for that to be spoken now. It wasn't what anyone needed. There would be time to talk, and that could be saved for when the wounds were treated and healed into scars that could withstand what hadn't been said without tearing the stitches.

And it was then you realized that it wasn't inherently what they had said about him that should be shared, but what they hadn't.

When Omega said something in her silly, naive little way that had a mutual feeling flash through the soldiers you could see the way their hearts still bled for their brother. How when they explained it to her it was as if they were rationalizing it for themselves as well. Taking the much softer perspective they created to give the child and finding comfort in it as well.

That time you were on a roof scoping a location and Wrecker accidentally shouted up to you and called the name "Crosshair" out of habit, and how he tried to claim it was the shadow of a snipers pose that just had him caught in the moment and how it didn't matter at all and how you couldn't help but see such a strange emotion weep from his words as he defended his actions to nobody but himself.

Or the way Hunter's eyes found themselves stuck on a small jar of toothpicks when you went into a cantina to ask some questions to the tender, the confliction you could see as soon as he registered the objects and the way his focus kept flickering to what should have been just another something in the background.

The fact that any time one of them was given a task that used to be Crosshair's assigned job in the squad there was a complaint. Sometimes followed by usually Hunter barking about how that clearly couldn't be done by the original performer, sometimes it just fell silent as the memories played in their minds too. And even when it was your given task one of them would be sure to inform you that yes, it was Crosshair who usually climbed to the top of a perch and scouted ahead with the binocs, as if you had ever asked or had any doubts.

It was the way they snapped at you when you tried to move his weapons kit, the fact that you noticed them all visibly tense and grow shy when you first asked for the story of what happened, how when you asked about scope specifications it was as if everyone glanced around the room for him just to realize he wasn't there. That just like he noticed the signs of them in this ship you saw the signs of him in them.

But how did you share something like that?

When you turned to face the clone he was still standing with his eyes locked onto the targets littered with tears and holes. He was still but he was shaking but he didn't move but he was falling through the fabric of reality itself.

"They miss you. I guess that'd be a good summary of everything," Your voice took a risk, words extending hands and hoping that he'd reach out to take them.

Crosshair turned to you after his eyes fell and closed for a moment, a shaken breath having to fight itself to be regained before he looked and for what must be the first time it felt as if you were truly looking at one another face to face.

You could see through his gaze that he mirrored the sentiment, unable to speak it only from the words twisting and tripping and toiling with one another until they simply became stuck in his throat as nothing more than a weight he used to keep his guilt down. What used to be vivid and vivacious in his eyes had since been bled of their valiance and left nothing more than a ghost that haunted bittersweet memories. And the look that usually presented itself with a furrowed brow and a frown was too reduced to what remained when everything was stripped and bones were left bare.

Perhaps it was this unrelenting vulnerability that allowed the clone to venture into a territory he had always feared. He had already dug himself down to bedrock, what was the harm in seeing if there was anywhere else to go? It wasn't as if he could go any further south from here with the only tools at his disposal being his own worn hands.

"Even after it all?" A sincere request that was hesitant as it came to light, words drawled but not with intentional emphasis for dramatic effect more than a fear strong enough to slow them down but not strong enough to stop them.

And you couldn't help but smile and huff at that.

"You think that the brothers you were created with, raised with, trained with, and fought with would leave you behind like that?" You crossed your arms, still floating on a cloud of caution and care as you allowed your demeanor to shift just the slightest amount, "You think they didn't talk about how they would save you if they could? That they didn't tell Omega stories about all of you, as a team, and end it with a wish it could happen again one day? Do you really think they would have just… let you go if they had the option to bring you back with them?"

Your own voice wavered as you finished, finding a surprising amount of emotions starting to bubble up from beneath you, rising through your chest until they were at your eyes and you had to blink to keep them at bay. A task that became increasingly harder as you saw the way your words struck the other. Recoiling slightly as if you took a gun and pulled the trigger slow enough that it slowed time as well as the bullet struck him.

He looked at you in such a pleading way, asking a question neither of you knew but you knew it was there and that it needed to be answered, but how do you answer something that can't be asked with words that need to be spoken? And what little humor had taken hold of you drained from below your feet as you saw the first tear fall.

It was almost instinct that brought you closer, pulling the soldier into an embrace and holding him together before he fell apart in the absence of a strength he finally lost his grasp on. Slipping from the control he had placed himself under when he convinced himself of his loyalty and threw away what he was pretending wasn't what he had wanted, what he needed.

When he fell weak you brought him to the ground gently, pulling him to lean his weight onto you, sheltering him as you felt his breath on your neck and his hands trembling as they latched onto what was left for them to, finding solace in gripping your arms and using that hold to keep the distance from tearing you apart as if he was afraid of what would happen if he let go.

You hadn't thought much of it until this moment. Not his side of it, at least.

Countless nights of yours since joining up had been spent pondering this particular clone, but it had always been through the eyes of his brothers. From a thick lens of red that hazed everything through it to a velvet that could scream as it drowned, altering any other color to the same fate and sparing few alternatives. In this way it was more strategic in understanding, emotions running behind in close second but never pushing past to take the lead.

But what of him? What of the one who was left behind? The one that you heard of but never knew, only knowing him now that he was cracking and falling apart into pieces in your arms; not when he was a sheep in wolves clothing, or even the original side of him that had simply been the clone soldier with a bit of an edge. And what did all these mirrored versions of him reduce down to behind the smoke from the flames he used to burn them?

Through every strained breath from the man you could feel a quake in your own heart, the loneliness that he wore as a badge of pride and honor seeping through his touch and into yours and showing their true colors. Nothing more than a masquerade, a delusion he dressed up and decided was his fate because it was easier to say it was fate that chose your twisted path instead of your own two feet.

And again it became ironic, or maybe poetic if the word catches a peculiar fancy, how it was the disobedience he was known for prior that finally set him free now. Did he still believe that things were a certain way because he was created to fit into a place? Or has he remembered that even when he was supposed to submit himself to the aforementioned he never did, that he always broke the mold he wouldn't be cast into and finished the mission without following the orders.

And how, you can't help but think, will he unfold now that he has been free of all the shackles that have had him bound to what he believed to be loyalty?

What kind of man would he turn into when he patched up his relationship with his brothers, when he met Omega on equal ground and spoke her name, when he got the chance to exist as something more than a shadow of a soldier still fighting a war that had already ended?

Time would only tell as it was the teller of all tales, and as if summoned by thought the comm device strapped to your side beeped twice before a muffled voice gave the confirmation that you were to expect coordinates in the upcoming moments for your rendezvous.

"Hey," You whispered, holding the man just a bit tighter as you felt his breath hitch and hold itself, stilling for just long enough for you to say what he needed to be told, "Let's just get you home, yeah?"

@where-is-my-mind-tho @starborncyare @antishadow2021 @healingskywalker @crosshairlovebot

[ohtomatotome]

Getting There is Half the Fun

Word count: 6.8k 

Recipient: @violettduchess as part of the Ikemen Prince Gift Exchange hosted by @ikemenlibrary and @sunnyikemen

Characters: IkePri Keith Howell and MC (Emma), established relationship

Prompt: Something fluffy and lighthearted, maybe a trip together. It would be fun to see something not go according to plan and how they handle it. SFW, a little bit of spice.

Triggers: N/A

Content Warnings: Alter!Keith makes a couple of appearances, young children, kissing, depression, mention of sex (not depicted), mention of marriage. It is all fairly tame; just heaps of fluffiness.

Author's Notes are at the end of the story

“Isn’t this the most whimsical thing you’ve ever seen? What a vivid imagination this artist has!” 

Emma’s delighted tone caught Keith’s attention immediately. He came over to see the painting she was admiring. The couple were browsing decor in a shop situated near the crossroads of Rhodolite and Benitoite, filled with fine exports from sea-faring merchants. The framed piece in front of Emma was done by an artist who hailed from the border between Obsidian and Achroite.

Keith came to stand beside her and pointed at the painter’s signature, explaining, “I’m a little familiar with this man’s works. He doesn’t depict make-believe or fantasy. All his paintings are based in nature, and he paints them on site. This … oh, this piece is certainly not imagined…” 

His voice trailed off in a wistful sigh. She gave him a questioning look. She had never seen him go all gooey over art before. Stars and herbology, yes. But a painting? There was something special here, she could tell she was about to uncover another secret treasure buried in Keith’s heart. Emma nodded, encouraging him to continue.

The glimmer in his golden eyes sparkled brighter as he explained the natural phenomenon known as the Aurora. Astronomers theorized the shimmering ripples of bright green are waves of light bouncing off the particles in the sky, or maybe they are chemical reactions happening at the cosmic scale. 

“How I wish I could glimpse it with my own eyes, even if just for a moment.” The enthusiasm that had fueled his explanation soon was replaced by a tone full of yearning, his dreamy gaze on the painting once more.

“But why can’t you?” 

“The lights are only visible near the north and south poles of the planet. I would have to go many days worth of travel just to see even a smidge of them. And even if I was in the right place, I’ve heard the conditions have to be just right: low humidity, no clouds whatsoever, no wind, a crescent moon is best… in short, unless one lives in the perfect area and searches the sky every night of their life, seeing an Aurora in one’s lifetime is not likely. It’s like trying to hunt the rare and elusive white stag of Jadean legend.”

Emma waited until Keith was exiting the shop to secretly purchase the painting with her own money and arrange to have it shipped to the palace in Jade. Few things had ever made her lover’s eyes fill with the hungering ache she just witnessed. Even if he would never see the sight with his own eyes, this artwork would have to suffice.

Then she began to wonder: Why couldn’t he plan to see it in the future? What’s stopping him? What if she were to put the plan in motion herself, and surprise him?

—-------

An invitation arrived for the royal family of Jade, requesting a representative of the governing body to attend a special conference hosted by Achroite in the north.  As soon as Keith offered to go, Emma saw this as her opportunity to enact her plan. Skillfully, deceitfully, and delicately, she plied various tactics and reasoning for letting her accompany him. 

Keith didn't quite understand the motivation behind Emma's attempts at joining his journey north.  However, he wasn't going to deny her when there was such bold determination in her warm eyes. He was never any good at telling her 'no'.

Triumphant at her victory, Emma packed her trunk and bags with thoughts of dancing green lights in her head, only to be outshone by the spark in her prince's eyes when his wish was granted.

—-----

The fastest travel route was straight north through Obsidian. That also made it the most dangerous. Keith wasn't about to put Emma's life in danger to save a few days of travel time.  He planned a route northeast by carriage to the sea port in Benitoite, sailing north on a luxury cruiser, and then west by carriage through the mountain pass to Achroite.  

He looked over his map and itinerary one last time, a soft smile hiding the growing confidence he felt each time he examined his plans. It would be their first time traveling so far, and would be a test to how well they can bear the burdens of a long journey with limited resources. Keith had decided this trip would be the perfect opportunity to prove to Emma that he was capable, reliable, and could take care of everything.

His usual companions of gloom and self-doubt had been visiting more often during this year of peace. The period of calm also meant there was less necessity for Alter!Keith to make an appearance and save the day. However, that absence made it all the more poignant when Emma would cajole him out simply because she wanted to spend time with him. 

With lots of time on his hands, the anxious voices in Keith’s head ran rampant without an exterior distraction to keep them silent. But now? Traveling to the conference was just the thing to challenge himself and keep the depressing thoughts at bay.

He patted the side of the carriage before climbing aboard with a smile, "Easy travel, good roads, and plenty of time to relax along the way. Why, we could almost treat this like a vacation!"

—-------

Famous. Last. Words.

'Vacation' would have been the absolute last word to describe the comedy of errors hounding every leg of their journey. 

The first thing to go wrong was one of the carriage wheels broke as it hit a deep run left by the late summer rains. It happened right inside the Jadean border before stepping over to Benitoite. The only living souls around were all busy in the rye fields. After convincing one of them to put down his scythe long enough to talk, Keith discovered with dismay the small group of people he was looking at was the entire village. It was a very isolated place that relied on every able body to help with the harvest. That group included the wheelwright: Keith and Emma's only hope of getting back on the road before dark.

Keith offered to take the wheelwright's place in the field. The hardy villagers barely held their skepticism behind polite faces. 

"The wright can thresh twice as many sheaves of rye as anyone else.  You'd be taking one of our hardest workers. Besides, t’is no time to be gabbing about.  Lookit those rain clouds headin’ this way. Our work’ll have been wasted if we can’t get the rest in the barn before the drops fall. Beggin' yer pardon, but a prince ain’t no replacement for the wright."

Keith wasn’t about to take ‘no’ for an answer. Spurred on by necessity and the desire to impress Emma – and perhaps the bruised pride of being passed over without even a chance to prove his worth – he picked up a scythe and jogged to the row needing mowing. 

He shrugged off his coat and went right to work, speaking over his shoulder to the wheelwright, "I'll do your share here if you fix the wheel. And I'll pay you triple the usual amount. Do we have a deal?"

He never broke his rhythm as he talked, taking a broad arcing swing, smoothly slicing the stalks in front of him,  and moving forward with a quick grace rarely shown by the first prince of Jade. Muscles rippled across his back as each successive swing gave him more confidence. The villagers were shocked into silence.

"Y-Yes, your highness. Thank you!" The wheelwright touched the brim of his hat in courtesy, amazement on his face. Emma glanced sidelong as the villagers who now all raced to pick up their scythes and attempt to keep up with the prince. 

Tales of Keith's kindness and willingness to help commoners with even the most mundane tasks had spread across his kingdom long before this. However, the additional detail of how strong and muscular he was never accompanied the rumors. 'He sure showed them! Well, that ought to fuel their gossip through the winter," she thought giddily to herself as she headed towards the end of the field to help with tying the sheaves. Emma was pleased and vindicated on her prince's behalf, proud that his people had found new respect for him. 

—-------

After that encounter, it was supposed to be smooth sailing. Quite literally. Only … the mishap with the wheel and then the afternoon’s rain muddying up the roads put them far behind schedule. They missed the luxury cruiser. It disembarked from Benitoite the day before they reached the docks. 

With a sullen face, Keith booked their fare on a north-bound merchant ship. Emma knew that face too well: it meant he was disparaging and beating himself up inside. She knew it would do no good to convince him right this second that he couldn't control the weather.  She'd wait until they had a quiet moment together to soothe his nerves.

The trouble with that plan was that peace and quiet were impossible to find on that busy ship, not to mention privacy. They shared sleeping quarters with the crew’s family, swinging in hammocks at night and sitting elbow-to-elbow with eight noisy people below decks during the day. 

There was one moment of peace, though. It occurred above deck at night when the sea was glassy smooth and the crew wasn’t throwing mouthfuls of curses at one another. Keith hugged Emma from behind, whispering just a tad louder than the wind whistling past them, “I don’t know how I’d get through this ordeal without you. But at the same time I feel like the worst person alive for bringing you on such a doomed voyage. I'm sorry you’re with a jinx like me.”

She leaned into him, turning her head so the breeze wouldn’t snatch her words away, “Darling. There’s no such thing as bad luck. Where you go, I go.  And that’s that. I love being with you, no matter where it is or what is happening.”

—-------

Finally having landed just east of the mountains bordering Achroite, Emma thought they could relax at last. A coach was hired easily, and they were well on their way through the mountain pass. That's when they heard a series of muffled THUMPS behind them. 

Alarmed, Keith had the coachman stop the horses as he took a look at what made the noise. Almost every one of Emma's bags were on the dusty road, clothes strewn about.

"Wha….what happened?? How….?!" She felt like crumbling onto the rocks and crying.  How could this trip get any worse? She bit her lip to stop the wobbly tremble that threatened to bring tears to her eyes. 

The coachman came over and looked at the shredded leather casings of her bags, nodding, "Oh yah, this is old leather. It's no surprise that the salt air on your sea trip had weathered it and made it too brittle to withstand much more abuse. S'too bad, it is. But there's an expert leather worker just ahead."

They wearily gathered up her belongings and did their best to stuff it into Keith's luggage. His was supple, well-treated leather that showed no signs of damage from the sea voyage. Emma inner thoughts were cruel for the ride to the village, reminding of the gulf between their backgrounds, status, and financial situation. Feelings of inadequacy crawled angrily across her heart. 'Of course. Of course the poor little orphan girl has crap for baggage – why would someone like me ever need to travel? No one expects someone like me to ever go beyond her front door.’

Fortunately, the leatherworker was home. Unfortunately, he was forced to watch his young children because his wife was recuperating from a severe illness at her sister’s. He met them at the door bouncing a screaming baby in his arms while a toddler on unsteady feet clutched his pants leg. His face was apologetic, “I’m awful sorry, I am. But with the missus gone, I can’t leave the house. I tried keeping ‘em in the workshop with me one day to see if I could get any work done, and it was a disaster, heh.”

Clenching her fists in frustration, Emma took a deep breath while trying not to despair. “If you can’t repair my pieces, do you have any luggage completed that I can buy right now?”

He shook his head, “Nah, I don’t do my business like that, makin’ stuff that might sell ‘someday’, I only take on jobs that will pay me when the work is done.”

Both Keith’s and Emma’s faces were crestfallen. They knew they could buy luggage once they get to the capitol city, but it was still a long ways to go and her belongings were getting dustier and dirtier by the mile. They muttered their thanks, turning to go, when the leatherworker suddenly made a sound like he just remembered something. “By any chance is what yer needin’ is just the fastenings? Like the straps around the bags and such? Because I do have those ready-made.”

“Yes! Yes, that’s what broke. That’s all I need replacing!” Hope filled Emma’s voice and face and she stepped up the stairs again towards the little cottage. Emboldened by this promising possibility, she brushed up her prettiest smile and offered, “How’s this? I’ll watch your little ones while you repair my baggage, and we’ll pay you twice the going price.”

The man blinked, glanced past her to where Keith was still waiting by the coach, as if to silently ask ‘Are you okay with this arrangement, buddy?’ 

She turned around and gave him an optimistic ‘thumb’s up’ gesture with a big nod to encourage him t agree, “Right, my dear?”

Keith was gazing at his beloved with open admiration. He nodded, “Absolutely. That’s a wonderful idea.”

They sent the coachman off with enough gold to ensure he’d come back to get them later than evening. While the leatherworker took the ruined luggage into his workshop, Emma introduced herself to the children.  Besides the baby and the toddler she had seen at the door, there was also a 5 year old inside. Hours went by as the couple played games, told stories, and fed dinner to the kids. Both of them had wildly giddy sweet thoughts running through their heads of how capable and adorable the other one looked in this parenting mode.  It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say ‘baby fever’ had taken root that very day. From this moment on, Keith in particular was prone to falling into daydreaming about their future family.

—------

At long last they reached the Achroite castle without further mishap. As they unpacked, weariness settled in. The long journey and many unforeseen hardships were at last taking a toll on the young couple. Keith took a seat on the bed, resting his back against the headboard. He patted the space on that mattress next to him, gently calling “Emma? Come take a rest.”

“But I’m only halfway done with putting away my things…” is what she said, but her heart wasn’t in it. She was in the middle of pulling out another sweater from her bag when she felt warm hands glide from the top of her arms, down to her hands, freeing the fabric from her grasp. Keith set the garment on top of the luggage just as Emma’s shoulders slumped. She turned to face him and sagged against him with a sigh, while he bent his head to place a kiss against her hair. She gave no resistance when he led her to the bed.

The sky darkened as they lay on top of the crisp sheets, snuggled together in a drowsy heap. “We can’t fall asleep…” her drowsy voice was muffled against his shirt, “...or be late to dinner.”

“...we won’t…but, hmmm…” Keith’s lethargic murmur turned almost sour, “what if …  would it be the worst thing in the world … if we just stayed in bed?”

Emma squinted a bleary eye at his face, trying to discern if, in fact, Keith had already dozed off for a second and allowed Alter!Keith to slip into consciousness now. That reply sounded an awful lot like something the other one would say. Oh, what did it matter? She was too tired to really care which one was beside her at the moment; she loved them both equally. 

However … it would be rude of them to be absent at the first gathering of the conference. And then they’d have to make apologies to their host, which was not an attractive prospect. Prince Matthias didn’t seem the sort to forgive easily, no matter how small the slight. She didn’t want to be the cause of an international incident right at the beginning of their stay. 

“Nnghh… no,” She struggled to rouse herself into a sitting position, and jostled his shoulder in an attempt to keep him awake. “We have to get ready.”

Moody citrine eyes opened to give her a scathing look. Well, that made it clear who was at the forefront now. “Don’t ya think he’s earned a rest?”

Emma expected any sort of objection from Alter!Keith, but not this tactic. His words gave her heart a warm squeeze, just as they did any time he showed consideration for his other side. She also realized he knew about this weakness of hers. Was he trying to exploit it for the sake of a nap? She rolled away off the bed and went to one of her open trunks for a fresh gown.

“Tch. That’s sweet of you to show concern. But it’ll mean more trouble for us later if we don’t get moving now. Decide which one of you is going to be on the surface for this meal. It will be lots of socializing and politics.”

Suddenly deja vu from mere moments ago danced over her memories as a warm presence moved behind her and hands slid down her arms. This time, however, they belonged to a very handsy prince. His words gusted hotly over her ear, “Mmm, I’ll stick around long enough to help you undress. He really oughtta be present for the boring – I mean, important stuff.”

—-------

As much as they yearned for one another’s intimacy through the week, the conference schedule kept Keith busy all day, and social obligations kept the pair busy in the evenings. By the time they were alone and could have enjoyed one another in private, exhaustion demanded it was time to sleep. 

A few times Keith had asked Emma how she had kept herself occupied during the day, and received very predictable answers such as; visiting the town market, strolling in the conservatory and greenhouse, socializing with the other noble ladies. And reading, of course. She never went into detail of any of the sights she had visited or conversations she had had. Usually Emma was full of chatter about the things that had filled her day. Keith decided not to pry and merely attributed her quietude to the demanding schedule rather than her being evasive on purpose.

What Emma was actually doing was reserving a cabin rental and preparing for the most romantic and memorable viewing of the Northern Lights ever! The cabin would have the groceries stocked and firewood ready by the time they arrived. All they needed to do is show up and enjoy a few days' rest away from the hustle and bustle of the conference. This was the real reason Emma had begged to come along on the journey in the first place. 

After that hellish trip north, they needed a relaxing break now more than ever. Her chest warmed at the thought of being able to give her beloved prince a special memory like this. If only nature and the heavens would cooperate to give them a once-in-a-lifetime show, that would make it truly perfect.

The night before the conference ended, Keith heaved a sigh as he began to fold clothes to go back into the bags. 

“Darling? That was a rather heavy sigh. Is anything the matter?” Emma’s sweet inquiry washed away the layer of fatigue that had covered his soul. He paused to look over at the bed where she was flipping through a cookbook of traditional Achroite foods. With a book; in her natural habitat. Keith’s soft smile was full of adoration at this comforting sight. He often wondered how it was possible for the simple act of looking upon her in repose was enough to give him his own sense of calm. 

—---------

It reminded him of the first time he had encountered the odd phenomenon, on her first visit to the kingdom of Jade:

As he showed her around the palace, she asked to see his personal chambers. Worried had plagued him, thinking it would be awkward beyond measure and she’d find fault with everything. However, when he watched her step among his belongings, inquisitive fingers trailing over the spines filling his many bookshelves, eyes lighting up at seeing the keepsakes decorating his bedside table, he realized with surprise that his anxiety had been utterly unfounded. In fact, the sight of her in his room, among his things, gave him a deep sense of peace. 

A warm blanket of contentment and resolve settled around him in that moment, as if he was being told ‘this is right, this is good’. It felt so very natural to have Emma there at all hours of the day and night. Having her near was a balm like no other. He had mused on the mystery of it: If he was struggling with a letter at his desk or fretting about an upcoming meeting with bureaucrats, all it took was to look up for the fraction it took to see her with a book perched at his window seat or sitting on the couch. His heart was eased instantly. Her presence was a wonder drug to his perpetual paranoia. Wherever Emma was, that was ‘home’ for him.

He floundered without her presence. His soul required her like a tree needed sunlight. 

Alter!Keith was in the same situation, though for different reasons. He needed Emma to stick around because her deciding to stay sent the message that he was worthy of notice, of love. That he deserved to exist.

Neither side of him could never admit this to her, though. His reliance on her would only highlight his ignomy and patheticness. How utterly weak would he appear to her if he confessed he needed her just to get through a day without a panic attack? 

—------------

Her miraculous effect was the reason he hadn’t required much persuading to allow her to join him on this trip. Prince Matthias was an imposing figure whose presence in a room was nearly as oppressive as Prince Chevalier’s. Keith was glad to have his own personal ball of sunshine to help him survive the stressful conference. Without her warm kisses in the morning and her sweet voice at night, he was sure his nerves would have been frayed beyond measure before he returned to Jade. 

He basked in her soothing oasis a moment before answering her question, “It feels as though there hasn’t been a moment of true rest during this excursion. I realize it wasn’t intended to be a relaxing getaway, but it would have been nice to just have a day to spend with you. To sleep in and enjoy breakfast in bed, or stay up late trying to glimpse the Aurora, or have the leisure to browse their castle’s extensive library. And now we have to be back on the road tomorrow. At the risk of sounding petulant … it isn’t fair. I’m bone-weary, Emma.”

By the time her name was on his lips, she had gotten up and moved to stand beside him, small arms around his thick torso, forehead pressed to his broad shoulder. He soaked in her serenity for a few heartbeats, nearly crumbling under the immense gratitude he felt for her love and support. 

She broke the harmonious silence first, “Isn’t it a good thing, then, that we don’t have to go home just yet? We can extend our trip a little longer.” There was a playful lilt to her words, obviously inviting him to inquire into her meaning. 

Keith turned within the circle of her embrace to face her with a quizzical lift of his thick eyebrows, “Did the royal family invite us to stay past tonight? I hadn’t heard of this.”

She shook her head and pressed her lips together in a smile that was eager to burst forth with the news. Emma was determined to keep the surprise until the last moment when they arrived at the cabin tomorrow. Then she realized his anxiety might burrow needlessly under whatever cute evasions she gave now with a smiley ‘Just you wait! You’re going to love it!’. Wouldn’t it be less cruel to tell him now instead of risking him worrying himself into a fit? Why not give him the choice: divulge the secret, or be left in the dark?

She grinned impishly up at him, “Oh, we are staying in Achroite for a little while longer, but not as Their Majesties’ guests. Would you like to be surprised? Or shall I tell you all about it now-o-OHH!”

Keith had picked her bodily off the floor in a bear hug, squeezing her last syllable into an excited squeak as her feet left the floor. He laughed heartily as he spun her around with ease. “Emma! Give me all the details. Packing can wait!” 

Energy recharged as he held his beloved ray of light within his arms. He could hardly believe his amazing luck. Had she really planned something to help him relax before they started the arduous trek back home? He lowered her to the bed, brawny arms pressing down the mattress on either side of her, face bearing down on her with a smile sanguine and imploring.

She giggled at his lack of princely composure and laced her hands around his neck, drawing him down for a quick kiss, “You know the days I've been going into the market and village? That was to prepare for three days of relaxing at a cozy little cabin just an hour’s ride north of the castle. It’s stocked with food and firewood and everything we need. And the best part?” She paused to land a little peck on the tip of his nose. “It’s the perfect place to watch the Aurora.”

Emma paused, holding her breath for his reaction.

She finally had to exhale because he was silent for so long. “Darling? Keith? Are you not excited for the trip?’ A moment ago she was ready to dissolve into happy giggles, but his reaction now had her nibbling her lip.

“...You planned all this? By yourself? For me?” His questions were hushed, awestruck. 

With a slow nod, Emma resumed her smile, “Not just for you. For us. I’m going to be there as well, silly!” 

She finally giggled as she watched his face change from surprise to delight. The grin on his handsome face was dazzling, but she only glimpsed it a moment before he leaned down for a kiss, which she gladly returned. He trailed little kisses down her jawline, and she continued answering his questions between happy sighs. “And … you know, it wasn’t too much trouble to prepare. After all, I should get some practice, don’t you think? I’ll need to know how to plan much greater events … at some point in the future…” 

Keith caught her hint squarely in the chest, and was glad to have his face hidden in her neck so the blaze upon his cheeks would be unseen. Inwardly he berated himself for the thousandth time for not having the guts to clear the way for Emma, a commoner from Rhodolite, to become his wife and Queen of Jade. He couldn’t propose until he knew the path would be easy for her. Yet he wasn’t going to start the official process until he was sure that was what she wanted – that he was what she wanted. It was a catch-22 that was a sure way to spiral into despair if he thought about it too long.

Of course the two of them were madly in love, and they spoke in terms of ‘always’ and ‘forever’ when expressing their feelings. 

But they hadn’t ever sat down and plainly discussed the future. 

What Emma just said now was the closest either of them had ever come to a proclamation of their intentions for marriage. He couldn’t swallow the fact that he had been too feckless to say something before Emma. Now that she had been brave enough to be the first one to break the ice, he couldn’t hesitate any longer. But oh, how he loathed for her to see his face like this: sweaty, nervous, pathetic!

He moved his lips to her ear, giving it a quick kiss before whispering with a tone that flowed with love and hope, “It’s my dearest wish to put you in that position, Emma my beloved. I didn’t want to come across as presumptuous. Or … maybe I simply lacked the courage to speak to you about it before. Or … or –”

He was interrupted by her hands dragging his face up and her lips seeking his. She kissed him long and hard, not letting go until several seconds had passed, then huffed out, “Keith. I’ve felt you wanted to marry me. I could tell in every action, every look, every touch. But hearing you say this? Hearing that you want it just as much as I do, just as much as I always thought you did? It puts my heart at ease to know, with certainty, that you feel the same as I do.” 

She held his cheeks firmly as he tried to look away, forcing him to return her gaze. He saw nothing but kindness swimming in her eyes. She waited a beat longer, holding his gaze before continuing, “And that’s enough for now. You don’t need to rush into … well, anything. The wheels of monarchy creak along slowly. You don’t need to do it alone, though. I’m here to help, to support, in whatever way you need. And that’s all there is to it. Alright?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up in chagrin, already finding another fault in himself no doubt. But he nodded regardless because he believed her. A feeling of triumph and pride soon overtook his usual shame. This conversation was a true breakthrough! She wanted to marry him! He wanted to marry her! With elation, he leaned in to kiss her deeply, eliciting a moan from Emma. As his lips left hers and he began to nibble down her neck, he asked, “This cabin, you said it quite a ways from here? Does that mean it’s isolated? Not in a village? No neighbors?”

Fingers roved through his sandy hair as she gasped at his adventurous kisses plunging down her collar. She endeavored to think and answer at the same time, “Mm-hmm. I think so. I didn’t – hmm ah! – didn’t see any other buildings around.” 

She was about to follow up by asking why he wanted to talk about this now, when there were obviously other things the two were thinking about. But suddenly she felt Keith smiling against her cleavage, and he glanced up at her with a devastatingly hungry look, saying, “Good, then there will be no one close enough to hear us. We can be as loud as we want.”

—----------------

Their first evening at the cabin was full of excitement. The snug little building was cute and clean, if a bit sparse. There was a distinct sensation of ‘playing house’ for the couple as they went about getting the bedroom ready, cooking dinner, and getting the hearthfire going. 

While they ate, they talked over all the misfortunes the trip had entailed: Broken wheel, missed ship, horrible sea voyage, ruined luggage, lost time, and extra expenses. Yet when they remunerated all the bad things, they were able to point out good things that came out of each predicament. The rye was harvested in record time, Keith’s good reputation was solidly implanted in that village, the wheelwright was able to afford much-needed upgrades due to Keith’s generous payment, Emma’s baggage was now better than ever, the leatherworker was able to afford the expensive medicine his wife needed. 

There wasn’t anything positive they could come up with to say about the merchant ship, until Emma suddenly remembered, “There was that night you held me from behind, keeping me warm and whispering the sweetest things in my ear. Remember? On the deck? The night sky was full of stars. The steady sound of the prow sloughing through the sea will stay in my head forever, just as that memory will. I remember thinking: ‘It doesn’t matter if I’m on a floating palace or a rickety fishing boat. As long as Keith is with me, I’m content and I’m where I need to. All I need to be happy is Keith.’ And I don’t think I would have encountered such strong, resolute determination if I hadn’t been in that situation. The foul odiousness of that ship contrasted so starkly against the purity and strength of having you next to me.”

Keith wanted to cover his face with his hands to hide his blush. He really couldn’t stand the way she heaped compliments upon him, and had the audacity to say it with such a sincere smile! He quickly turned the conversation back to reflect on her merits. “You were amazing with those children. I would never have thought to strike a bargain like that, nor could I have done that all by myself. You’re a natural. I loved watching you holding the baby…” he cleared his throat and barreled on, switching the subject, “That just goes to show that you are the one who cares about helping people, and are resourceful, and reliable, and kind, and capable. And everything I wish I was.” 

With a self-deprecating smile, he reached across the table to hold her hand. She squeezed his, ready with a rebuttal to help buoy his self-esteem, “Darling. You are all those things. Hasn’t this trip shown that? Together, we can overcome anything. I couldn’t have done any of this on my own.”

Keith had to admit that he was only able to jump into action when the wheel cracked because he was intent on keeping his Emma safe. In fact, the desire to prove himself capable in her eyes was the driving motivation for enduring all the mishaps on the trip. If he had been by himself, there’s no telling how well he would have fared. But with Emma there to support him and be the reason he needed to ‘man up’, he knew her words were true: together they could overcome anything.

They had decided to go to bed early and wake up a little after midnight because the locals had said that was the best time to view the Aurora.  Due to the odd hour, it was Alter!Keith who unexpectedly awoke in the middle of the night. He walked to the door that led to the balcony and looked through the window at the sky. Grumbling, he let the curtain fall closed again and climbed back into bed. Emma stirred awake at the movement, sleepily calling out, “Keith? Is it time to go outside?”

“It’s me, not him. And no, there’s nothin’ worth looking at. Whole damn sky is covered with clouds. If it had been the right conditions, I woulda let him switch over because I know he wouldn’t want to miss it. But ...” He moved closer and wrapped an arm around her hips to pull her flush against him as he continued in that gravely sleep-soaked voice, “I think I’ll let him sleep a little longer. You, though, aren’t gonna get much sleep tonight, sweet cheeks.”

—-----------------

Long after the sun had risen, the couple slept late to thoroughly enjoy the laid-back schedule. Keith was first to arise; he noticed the new pink marks the other man had left on her skin in last night’s pleasures. He sighed regretfully, more for having missed the chance to enjoy her himself than for missing the Aurora.

That night they resumed the same pattern as before, with going to bed early and planning to wake up after midnight in hopes of seeing the dancing lights. Luck was on their side that night! The humidity and wind were just right, the sky was clear of a single cloud, the moon was just a tiny sliver. Keith excitedly woke Emma, then wrapped themselves in thick boots, hooded cloaks and then in more blankets before settling on the bench outside on the balcony. The mountains were visible on either side, and the broad flat valley and its bubbling river spread out before them, creating the perfect stage for the heavens to put on an unforgettable performance. 

“Oh. My. Word. It shimmers like a magic trick!” Emma breathed the words, mesmerized.

The couple sat transfixed, silent for nearly twenty minutes as the bright green glow warped into misty shapes, faded, and lit up again as vertical shards of light wavered across the sky. 

She snuck a peak at Ketih’s face, which was awash in the verdant hue of the Aurora. His eyes sparkled, a childlike look of wonder writ across his features. He noticed her staring, and looked her way at last with a wry smirk, “You’re supposed to be watching the lights, my dearest. Not me.”

“I’ve got two eyes. I can keep one of them on you while I take in this amazing sight.” She grinned and snuggled closer to him, to which he responded by wrapping an arm around her waist to impart more body heat.

“It would be a shame to waste even one of your precious eyes on me. You can look at me any time. But this rare phenomenon is something you may never see again.”

Her cheek nuzzled his shoulder as she gazed skyward once more, letting out a contented hum, “We could always come back here? This would make a cozy spot for our honeymoon.”

Keith’s hand flexed tightly around her hip at the word ‘honeymoon’, mirroring the way his heart was squeezing. He softly muttered, “Or sooner than that,” as his thoughts drifted to the little jewelry box stowed away in one of the shelves of his dresser back in Jade. 

It contained his great grandparents’ rings. They were originally part of the collection of family heirlooms, but had never been treated like the great ornate pieces of the crown jewels because they were not that impressive. There were modest gold bands with a few small green gems. Their unassuming beauty and elegance reminded him of Emma. His grandparents had had a fairytale romance full of joy and love, a rarity for royals.  Ever since he had decided he needed Emma in his life, he had hunted them out of the collection, tucking them away for the eventual proposal.  Keith hoped that maybe just by wearing them, his grandparents’ legendary luck in love would rub off on him and Emma. He pictured himself sitting out on this balcony in the near future, with a ring in his pocket, waiting for that perfect moment. 

He had been a standstill for too long, fettered by indecision.

Soon it would be time for him to finally take action.

(This is the daytime view the couple would have had from their balcony in Achroite)

Author’s Note: This story was partly inspired by my own recent failed attempts to watch the Northern Lights with my husband, lol. With Keith’s love of astronomy I thought a rare cosmic phenomenon would be on his bucket list, especially being situated so far away from either of the globe’s poles. I had the entire story outlined and was well on my way with the narrative before Keith’s route was released. Of course I started reading it the say it was out, but I was only on chapter 20 at the time I finished writing this, so if anything is wildly OOC for him or Alter!Keith, I apologize. However, it is very satisfying to see that as I got that far in his route, most of the inner thoughts and outer reactions I wrote for him were things I later on saw in his route. Yay! It’s so nice when that happens. I really hope @violettduchess like this. Thank you for asking for Keith; he is a true treasure. I had so much fun taking on this assignment for the exchange.

[anne-chloe]

Underground | XII |

The Goblin King/Jareth x Reader

Summary : You return with Harry and talk things over. Could this be the start of a new chapter for you and your fiancé? Will he go back to his infidelity ways?

The world around you faded into the familiar sight of your apartment. You furiously blinked and rubbed your eyes, to the point where stars danced across them.

Could it have been a dream?

Harry groaned loudly, drawing your attention to him. He sat up from the floor, a bedsheet draped uselessly around his waist. He ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes scanning the apartment lazily before they finally landed on you.

You sat quietly on the floor.

No.

It wasn't a dream. That was far too real to have been a dream. And you wanted to go back. Now.

"I wish the goblins would—"

Harry threw himself over to you in an instant, his hand clamping over your mouth to muffle your words. You screamed in frustration and tried to push him off as he backed you into the floor, his body pressing against yours and suffocating any freedom you'd regained.

"Are you insane?!" Harry growled, the whites of his eyes bloodshot and shaking. You figured he must have been crying at some point, but you were in no position to ask him about it, nor did you care for his wellbeing anymore. You pushed against his chest, but he remained firmly in place. "Don't you dare say those words again!"

You struggled against him, wanting to desperately break free. But he wasn't letting up. He couldn't keep you there forever; he knew that too, but there was something playing on his mind with the way he stared down at you.

"He's a Fae," Harry breathed out shakily, sounding almost scared. "You know more than I do what Fae are capable of. They trick people, [Name], and you almost fell for those tricks!"

Liar.

You screamed into his hand again, shaking your head furiously to the side to try and make him shift. Harry pressed his hand harder into your mouth, to the point where breathing was becoming difficult. Was he trying to kill you now? What a way to die. Being stripped away from everything you desired because his fragile ego couldn't cope with losing you. Pathetic.

"That Goblin King was using you," Harry explained hurriedly, as if he was still on a timer to save you. "He showed you what you desired. He did the same to me. He wanted me to stay there, forever. But I said no. I saw right through his lies."

Why was he saying all of this stuff? Tears gathered in streams as they fell down your face. You refused to believe Harry; he'd ruined your future with the Goblin King; with Jareth. You caught him in his act of betrayal and he hated that you sought revenge on him too, now he was tarnishing any chance of happiness that you had left.

"He was toying with you the entire time, [Name]," Harry said in a low tone, now sounding dangerously desperate. "Could you not see those goblins laughing at you? It was all part of their elaborate game to make a fool of you. The lot of them are evil."

You twisted your upper body and finally managed to remove Harry's hand from your mouth. You gasped for air and pushed your hands into his throat, effectively choking him and forcing him away. He gagged loudly and backed off, coughing wildly as you shuffled backwards to create a safe distance. You glared at him with a raging fire in your eyes, furious that he would dare lay his hands on you like that.

"You're a cold hearted liar!" You wailed out loudly, voice trembling as you spoke.

"I'm not lying," Harry defended quickly. He massaged his throat with his fingers in tender circles. A stray tear rolled down his cheek. "You were blinded by his charms. Fae do that. But you're safe now, you're far away from him and we can—"

"There's no we!" You cried out, shoulders shaking in anger. "I don't believe you! I hate you! I hate everything that you've ever done to me!"

"That I've ever done?!" Harry repeated with a bitter laugh. He was now on his hands and knees, looming over you like an animal on its prey. You were starting to grow wary of his animalistic expression, the way he poised himself like a predator ready to strike. "All I've ever done is care for you. I've looked after you. Emotionally, financially... and you want more from me? How selfish can you be?"

"You cheated," you said coldly, now drawing your knees to your chest. If he dared to come any closer, you'd push your feet out and strike him in the face or chest; wherever you could land first. "I never asked for you to do any of that for me. I told you I was capable of supporting myself. You insisted. And then you go ahead and cheat with some stupid girl—"

"Casey is not stupid."

"And now you're defending her!" You cried out. "She's been to my performances, she knew we were together—"

"Are together," Harry corrected with a strange sense of urgency. He started to move closer, and your muscles twitched in anticipation to kick him in the face. Perhaps break his nose, give him a black eye all in one movement.

"We're finished," you reminded him sharply, narrowing your eyes and shaking your head. "I'm calling off our engagement and our entire relationship. I can't marry someone like you. Not when I was shown what I deserve to have."

Harry looked ready to tear his own hair out. He was red in the face from frustration, and he reeled back onto his knees. An exasperated laugh left his throat, and it sounded wild. Insane. You feared that he was ready to snap, and that was starting to scare you more than anything.

"You seriously think The Goblin King would offer you whatever you desire? You're delusional, [Name]. He just wanted another toy to his sick collection. There was a goblin in that labyrinth who told me everything. The Goblin King is a cruel ruler—he steals vulnerable people, young or old, and he forces them to remain trapped in his realm forever."

No. Harry must be lying.

But he was staring straight at you. He wasn't looking away and avoiding eye contact. His stare was strong and serious. Was he being truthful?

"I don't know a lot about Fae, but the goblin explained to me that the Goblin King is the last of his kind. There was a war of sorts centuries ago, and he was the only one remaining. He did something unforgivable to Fae kind, entirely out of the cruelness of his black heart. The only way he stays so powerful is by tricking innocent lives into giving him power through their way of word."

By speaking. By making promises. Making deals. Bets.

You averted your eyes to the floor, your feet lowering as you slowly came to the conclusion that Harry wasn't lying to you, that he was desperate for you to not make another mistake so dangerous. He'd run that labyrinth because he discovered the truth about Jareth, about what he was truly capable of. Harry, despite being able to leave at any point if he wanted to, had risked his life in that trickery maze just to protect you from eternity with Jareth.

Your mind flashed back to the statue that you'd discovered at the same time as the unicorn. The Last of Us. It made sense now. Jareth was the last of his kind, because he did something so unforgiving. The details of that event were left a mystery, but you could only imagine what had occurred. You'd assumed the unicorn was the last of its kind, but maybe it was an associate of Jareth's before the Fae were... well...

Gone.

Harry gently crawled towards you, the bedsheet miraculously hanging onto his naked waist. You let his hand reach out and caress your cheek, and comfort was instantly brought to you.

"I don't expect you to forgive me; I wouldn't even forgive myself. But I love you, [Name], I truly do. Casey was a mistake, a slice of excitement. I'd do anything for you. I ran that labyrinth for you, even though you tried to betray me."

That's right. You got your revenge on Harry, to show him what it felt like to be betrayed. Didn't that make you both equal now?

You finally lifted your eyes to meet his. Your bottom lip trembled at the sincerity in his face. His eyes sparkled with fresh tears under the dim lighting inside your apartment.

"I don't forgive you," you whispered, feeling torn between leaving him and staying out of gratitude. This was an event that should bring you closer, right? He cheated; you wished him away; you betrayed him; he saved you. "But I'm willing to give you a second chance."

"And you'll never say those words again?" Harry asked, his expression reflecting that same urgency again.

You opened your mouth to promise him that you wouldn't, but the words were caught in your throat. That was a big promise to make. And from what you had just learned, words were very powerful. You didn't want to promise something like that. In fact, you felt reluctant to ever make another promise again. You didn't want to. It was dangerous. Words were dangerous.

Instead, you slowly shook your head. You half expected Harry to encourage the vocal agreement, but instead he seemed satisfied with your wordless response.

Your gaze drifted towards the window as Harry wrapped his arms around you, pulling your body into him and tucking you under the sheet. You didn't react to this—you could only focus on the window, where the sun was starting to rise over the buildings outside.

Harry nuzzled his face into your neck, and he kissed and whispered sweet words that hardly reached your ears. It felt wrong to listen to this—you felt as though you were being tricked again. But were you? Harry's sweet promises seemed so meaningless and empty; they felt so dangerous and wrong. What if he promised something that he couldn't take back?

You decided to stop thinking at that point. You were exhausted and in desperate need of sleep. You felt your eyelids grow heavy, and you rested your head against Harry's, slowly falling asleep to the whispers of his love for you.

[dawnclan-duskclan]

It was never easy convincing Fluffypaw to stay focused during training, but today it was impossible.

"Stop!" Lavenderdew shouted. She leaped forward, grabbing Fluffypaw by the scruff and away from the sheer edge of the ravine. The near miss hardly phased the young molly, who wriggled in her mentor's grasp until Lavenderdew set her down a safe distance away, leaving the yawning black chasm behind them. "Honestly, Fluffypaw, what's gotten into you?"

The grey tabby's amber eyes danced, slipping away from Lavenderdew's pressing glare. "'m bored."

Lavenderdew had patience in spades--it was why Cavestar chose her to mentor the troublesome Fluffypaw--but she drew the line at her apprentice's actions endangering herself or others. The white molly stepped closer, using her height to loom over her apprentice, which usually forced Fluffypaw to take her seriously. "No, that's not it at all. Don't lie to me."

Fluffypaw rolled her eyes! Lavenderdew couldn't suppress it, her lip curled in a snarl. She ached to cuff the young cat over the ear for her insolence, but bit the urge back and settled for a low growl. "Fluffypaw," she said, her tone giving Fluffypaw one last opportunity to come clean.

Of course, she didn't take it.

Fluffypaw snorted, ignoring Lavenderdew's posturing and staring up defiantly with those fiery, amber eyes, burning with Passion. "It's not my fault you're so boring."

"Okay, then," Lavenderdew said, stepping away, because she was an adult and could control her emotions. Anger surged through her, hot and sparking, but unlike Fluffypaw, she kept her Passion in check and her voice was even and cool as rain. "If my lessons are so boring, perhaps you'll find camp chores more entertaining? All the moss in the elder's den and nursery needs replacing." Fluffypaw's eyes went wide with shock, as if she expected any other outcome for her blatant misbehavior than chores. "After that, Cavestar needs a cat to help bring water to camp to shine the Star crystals. You've never done that job before, so it will be new and exciting, yes?"

Fluffypaw muttered something under her breath, and when Lavenderdew challenged her to speak up, she only hissed and spun on her paws, racing off into the distance. At least she was headed back towards camp, but the white molly followed her apprentice closely to make sure she got there safely, holding back a growl of frustration. Fluffypaw hardly had enough common sense to stay away from cliff edges, let alone check for Nightbeasts.

Lavenderdew wondered what had Fluffypaw acting out this time. If she could find the source, she might be able to fix the molly's behavior. Lavenderdew sighed. She wished punishments would stick, but Fluffypaw wasn't cowed by the threat of chores, even the worst ones Lavenderdew could reasonably assign a young apprentice. It didn't help that her warrior ceremony was so far away, especially in the Fluffypaw's mind, that threatening to delay her warrior name was completely ineffective. And she couldn't refuse to train her either, because… that was Lavenderdew's job. Particularly if Fluffypaw was going to continue making trouble, the best thing Lavenderdew could do was give her the tools to ensure she was doing it safely.

As much as she could make the training stick, at least.

She sighed again, watching Fluffypaw disappear into the apprentice's den to sulk. Comforted that her apprentice was at least smart enough to find a safe place to vent her frustrations, Lavenderdew set off to the leader's den. She hated telling Cavestar that she hadn't been able to prevent yet another of Fluffypaw's tantrums, but the leader had to know. Cavestar would ensure Fluffypaw stuck to her punishment chores. "At least I have a few days to patrol," Lavenderdew muttered as she stepped into the leader's den.

Cavestar took one look at her and sighed, though her whiskers twitched. "What happened this time?" the DawnClan leader prompted. Lavenderdew settled in to explain.

<< 0.3 || FIRST || 0.5 >>

[raquellemonsta]

the sweet things in life (tsukishima x reader)

previous || next

chapter 3: weekend practice

After your first week of classes, you had gotten into a pretty good routine. You would go to school first and foremost (obviously). Then you would go to practice and help Kiyoko in any way you could, while also supporting the boys. If you had a break or practice ran itself, you would start your homework.

Ukai had informed you all that you would be having a weekend practice, which is why you reluctantly were up so early when you would have much rather stayed in your bed. Throwing on a white t-shirt and black shorts, you headed to your kitchen. Grabbing a bar, you left your house for Karasuno.

The prefecture was peaceful at this time of the morning. The sun was still low in the sky. You finished your bar and arrived at the gym.

The majority of the team wasn't there yet. You and Kiyoko had to set the net up, for some reason. You didn't see why the guys on the team couldn't just do it. Plus, help from them would make it go faster, but oh well.

The players weren't nearly as awake as usual, so Ukai made them run around the net a few times to warm up and wake up. He then told them to get started and warm up their serve. Honestly, it might've been a mistake to practice one of the skills that requires the most control when the team is tired.

You especially thought that when Hinata hit you in the back with a ball. You whipped around to Hinata frantically shouting how sorry he was, and Kageyama chastising him for his terrible aim. Tsukishima fought back full-blown laughter.

"(L/n), I'm so sorry! Please please forgive me!" he begged. He got down on his hands and knees in front of you, it was honestly kind of funny.

"Hinata really it's okay. Accidents happen" you told him and patted his head. He breathed a sigh of relief and quickly sprung up.

"Watch this (l/n)! This one's gonna be good!" he cheered. Unfortunately, his serve was a little low, and this time it struck Kageyama in the back of the head while he was picking up a ball. The gym went deathly silent and you prayed for Hinata's acceptance into heaven.

Kageyama slowly turned his head to stare at Hinata, who looked like he was about to have a heart attack, he then charged at him and the two darted around the gym.

"Cut it out you two! Get back to practicing or suicides for everyone" Ukai yelled. Everyone went back to serving before proceeding onto other drills and game situations.

Hours later, the team was effectively exhausted. You had filled up their water bottles multiple times by now, and everyone was ready to be done. That was until the enthusiastic captain made a suggestion.

"Why don't we go get something to eat?" Daichi suggested. "We could go to Ukai's store"

The four idiots (you know who I'm talking about) became extremely excited. The offer of food was too good to pass up.

"Hinata, as your senior I will buy you meat buns!" Nishinoya proclaimed. It seemed like Hinata had literal stars in his eyes hearing that.

"I'm going home" Tsukishima said.

"You have to go, it's team bonding" you said. He definitely rolled his eyes at that, but apparently he was too tired to come up with another smart remark.

You, Tsukishima, and Yamaguchi walked together a little way behind the rest of the team (since you had to make sure Tsukishima wouldn't try to make a quick getaway, though if you knew him he wouldn't). Yamaguchi made easy conversation about some of your classes, and then it shifted to food.

"I'm a big fan of blueberry flavored stuff" he told you. Tsukishima had been a silent bystander, walking with his headphones on despite having no music playing.

"What do you like, Tsukishima?". Even though he didn't seem to like you, you had to be civil with him eventually whether he liked it or not. It was an innocent enough topic.

"Why should I tell you?" he responded. Jerk!

"Would it kill you to just be nice for once and answer my question?" Yamaguchi had a shocked look on his face at that. Tsukishima was quiet for a second.

"Strawberry" was all he said, before tuning back out of the conversation.

You smiled at his answer, something he saw but didn't comment on.

Finally arriving at the store, nearly everyone started jumping for meat buns. You headed into the store and browsed through the sugary stuff.

You bought (candy you like), Morinaga strawberry cake, and blueberry candies for both you and the two boys to have for dessert, and joined the others outside of the shop.

When you guys were done with your meat buns, you offered the treats to the guys. Yamaguchi quickly took his graciously, thanking you multiple times.

"You're such a nice manager (l/n)!" he told you. Your heart swelled at his appreciation, and you gave him a smile.

On the other hand, Tsukishima was still standing there gazing at your outstretched hand. He didn't make any move to take it.

"Well?".

"Well what".

"Are you going to take it?" you questioned. "I bought this for you".

He furrowed his brow and looked into your eyes, searching for any ulterior motive. When he didn't find one, he hesitantly grabbed the snack and muttered an almost inaudible 'thanks'. You smiled at that too.

You would take your small victories wherever you got them.

[believingispowerfulmagic]

The Surprise (Better When I’m Dancing)

Summary:  During the latest season of Dancing With the Stars, Regina starts to feel overly tired and not well. Both she and Robin worry that something may be wrong - beyond an infuriating partner.

Chapter 1: FFN | AO3 | Wattpad

Chapter 7: The Reveal

FFN | AO3 | Wattpad

Excerpt:

"And so our final four are set," August announced. "Join us next week to find out who will take home the mirrorball trophy - Ralph and Ruby, Moana and Killian, Steve and Merida or Charlotte and Jacob. For now, let's say goodbye to Alice and Walsh!"

Regina clapped as she stood in the skybox, still dressed in a pink outfit from her samba with Charlotte and Jacob. Walsh led his partner to the center of the floor and they danced as the finalists crowded around them to say goodbye. The band continued to play even as the cameras went dark and the show's live broadcast ended.

"One more week," Tink said, sighing next to Regina. "I can't believe it's almost over."

"I know. Though a few weeks ago, I thought it would never end," Regina replied. "It's amazing how things can change in a short timeframe."

Ursula chuckled. "It's amazing how one person can change everything."

"That is true," Tink said. "Look at how different working on the show felt once Gold was gone."

"It definitely has been better," Thomas agreed. "Honestly, Percy was really the only bump we've experienced since then. But he certainly dragged the whole mood down this season before he left."

Regina nodded before frowning. "He's not coming back for the finale, right?"

Everyone grew quiet before Anna said: "They wouldn't dare, right? Not after everything he said and did."

"No," Ursula replied, sounding confident. "Isaac might have done that but Nimue absolutely wouldn't."

"That is true," Tink agreed, looking relieved. "Of course Nimue cares about ratings but she wouldn't stoop that low to get them."

Regina relaxed as she nodded again. "You're right. Nimue at least has integrity and cares about us."

"What are we talking about?" Killian asked as the finalists returned to the skybox. He placed his hands on his hips and looked around, waiting for someone to answer his question.

"The possibility of Percy coming back for the finale," Greg said. "General consensus is that Nimue will not stoop that low, even for ratings."

Killian nodded. "I agree with that consensus. But what about the network?"

"The network isn't going to push for Percy to be on either," Charlotte said. "From what I've heard, his career is done."

"Really?" Merida moved closer to her. "Who did you hear that from?"

Everyone gathered around Charlotte, who basked in the attention. She had a heart of gold but Regina knew she loved the spotlight. At least she did try to use it for good and to promote worthwhile causes.

Or gossip, like she was doing now.

"I have a friend who works on his show," she replied. "Or should I say, his old show. He's pretty much been fired from it but the network hasn't announced it yet."

"Ooh," Tink said. "I love it when karma gets bad people."

Steve chuckled. "It does feel good, huh?"

Anna gave Charlotte's arm a little shake. "Did your friend tell you anything else?" she asked.

"Well, she said that Percy wasn't always that obnoxious," Charlotte continued. "She said that during the first season, he was really sweet and everyone enjoyed working with him. Then he came back for the second season and he was completely different. He was conceited and obnoxious as well as spewing all that misogynistic nonsense. They don't know who he hung out with during the hiatus but it was clear he fell in with the wrong crowd."

"I think I have an idea of which crowd that might be," Steve said, sighing. "They tried to recruit me too."

Merida frowned, turning to her partner. "What group is that?"

"So-called Men's Rights Advocates," he replied. "Might even be white supremacists. They talked tough but when I threatened to kick their asses, they went running away like the punks they are."

"Figures," she said, rolling her eyes before turning back to Charlotte. "So are they killing him off?"

Charlotte shrugged. "They're still debating that. I think they're leaning toward that to close the door on any chance of him returning. From what I understand, they've temporarily written him off by having his character go out of town for an extended period."

Steve nodded. "Classic move. That will give them some time to figure out what they want to do but gets him off set."

"Do you think his career is over?" Moana asked, looking wide-eyed between the older contestants and dancers.

"I'd love to say yes, but I've seen people come back from worse," Steve replied, sighing. "I guess we're just going to have to see what happens."

Regina sighed as well. "Just as long as he doesn't try to come back to this show. I don't think we can deal with him for even five more minutes. At least, I know I can't."

Anna nodded. "Same here."

"Are you all having fun without us?" August asked, coming into the skybox with Belle. "We're all wondering why you haven't come down yet."

"We got lost in our conversation," Tink said. "Do you think they'll bring Percy back for the finale?"

Both looked horrified and Belle shook her head. "Absolutely not. Nimue will not do that to any of us, least of all to you, Regina."

"The fans will absolutely riot if you are forced to spend even one more minute with that pompous asshole," August said. "And I think Nimue is more scared of them than she is of the network."

Regina chuckled as the image of her royal court chasing Nimue across the lot played in her mind. "I would be too," she said.

"So, are you all ready to head down now?" August asked, pointing to the stairs back down to the dance floor. "Or else they may send a search party out for us."

"Okay, okay," Walsh said, rolling his eyes. "We'll head down."

August nodded, helping Belle down the stairs in her heels. The other dancers and the remaining stars followed them. Charlotte hung back and linked her arm with Regina. "Thank you for being part of our samba tonight. I really learned a lot from you and I think it helped push me into the finals," she said.

"I was happy to work with you," she said. "You're the first woman to complete my hip boot camp."

"Ooh," Charlotte replied, clapping her hands. "I feel so honored."

Regina chuckled. "You should be."

Nimue met everyone on the dance floor. "Congratulations to our finalists! I'm going to ask the stars to return to wardrobe so they can take off your costumes. Pros, I need you to stay so we can discuss the finale."

"We'll see you all soon!" Moana said, waving to everyone as she and the other stars left the ballroom.

"Alright," Nimue said, clapping her hands to get their attention again. "Another season is almost over. Next week is the finals so give yourselves a hand for making it through the past ten weeks!"

Regina joined the others in clapping. When they stopped, Nimue continued. "But I have a big announcement. Next week will be the finale but it won't be our last show of the season," she said.

That surprised everyone and Regina frowned as Killian asked: "What do you mean?"

"I just received word that the network is going to have some free time on the schedule and they want us to do a holiday episode," Nimue said. "There's going to be others involved but we're going to carry the bulk of it."

"Wow," Tink said. "What are we going to do?"

Nimue shrugged. "We're still putting that together. But our plan is to feature the finalists and maybe invite some past contestants back as well."

Anna nudged Regina. "Does this mean you'll get to dance with Robin again?"

"Maybe," Regina said, knowing that the show loved to pair them up as much as they loved dancing together. "I guess we'll have to see."

"So, we'll be continuing rehearsals for a few more weeks," Nimue said. "And we'll tell you more when we know it. Thank you for your attention, go ahead and get ready to head home. You all deserve a good night's sleep."

Everyone clapped and headed toward the backstage area. As Regina walked past, Nimue gently grabbed her arm. "Can we talk for a moment?" she asked.

Regina nodded, motioning for the others to go on without her. "What's up?" she asked.

"Why don't we go somewhere more private?" Nimue suggested. "We'll also get that microphone off you."

"Alright," Regina said, following her backstage. She wondered if her question had something to do with Regina's pregnancy - it was the only topic that would require such secrecy at that moment.

Once the microphone was off, Nimue ushered Regina into a small room. She closed the door before saying: "I wanted to talk with you about your pregnancy," she said.

"I figured," Regina replied. "What about it?"

"Have you and Robin given any thoughts about how and when you're announcing your pregnancy?" she asked.

That surprised Regina before she realized that would be another way this pregnancy would be different from her first one. She and Daniel only had to tell their family and friends back then. Now, she and Robin would also have to tell the world - especially their fans. And she saw other celebrity announcements so she knew they couldn't just release a press release. They would have to do something a bit more personal than that.

"No," she said. "We haven't. Why?"

"I was just wondering if you wanted to announce it next week or if you had plans to do so later," Nimue said. "There's no pressure if you don't want to announce it on live TV. I just want to be prepared in case you do want to do it on the show."

Regina nodded, not sure if that was the route she and Robin wanted to take - even after getting engaged on the show. "I think I need to talk it over with Robin," she said.

"Of course," Nimue said. "And I'm sure you've already guessed that we're going to reach out to see if Robin wants to be on the holiday special."

"I had a feeling," Regina replied, nodding.

Nimue chuckled. "He is a favorite. Everyone loves him - us producers, the fans and the studio."

"He's very lovable," Regina said, feeling a bit cheeky. "I can definitely attest to that."

"Yes, you can," Nimue agreed. She then gently squeezed Regina's shoulder. "I'll let you go get undressed. I'm sure you want to get home. Just talk it over with Robin and let me know by Friday what your plans are so we can be prepared."

Regina nodded, knowing that was more than fair. "I will," she promised.

"Have a good night, Regina," Nimue said, opening the door so Regina could leave. She wished Nimue the same before stepping out and heading to the costume department. Then she would get ready and finally head home.

She couldn't wait.

[naoa-ao3]

Instrument of War

Frank Castle is old now and the streets of New York know when to be afraid. Petty criminals and the scum that run the streets know.

The crunch of his boots and the clink of his casings hitting the dirty pavements have become as regular as church bells but there's always more to clean up. The city's never clean and as the years roll past he wonders what will become of it after he's dead.

Men like him don't usually live this long.

Vietnam and all the shit before and all the shit after. . . men with his kind of anger and his kind of temper. . . but somehow he's still here. Everyone else is dead but he's still here and so each night he goes out and tries to reclaim a bit of the streets, tries to right the wrongs that have already passed.

He see's visions when he closes his eyes.

His wife.

HIs children.

Burned villages and dead men.

Blood on the streets and stars pinned to chests when they should be in the sky.

He's always been angry but he'd been normal once.

He'd had parents and some vague idea of what his life was supposed to be like.

The streets here are rotten though, the people unfriendly. They don't want to be saved and maybe they shouldn't be.

He'd once tried to be a priest.

Maybe if he'd stayed with it he could have saved someone but it hadn't been in him and he hadn't stayed.

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.

He unloads half a clip into a rapist and knows why he couldn't be a priest.

There are people that think the death penalty is wrong, people that want due process and a jury made of peers but he's looking at the woman on the ground, eyes wide and shocked, blood that isn't hers splattered across her face and blouse. Those people don't think about her.

She's blinking like she can't make out what she's looking at as she stares at him.

Where there is hatred let me sow love.

Only when he holds out a hand she screams and slaps it away. "Don't touch me!" She shouts, kicking backwards away from the dead body between them. "Don't fucking touch me! Help!"

He let's his hand fall.

Where there is offense, let me bring pardon.

"You should get to a hospital." He say's.

White fingers claw at her face, smearing her would be rapist's blood. "What have you done?" She chokes.

Relieved the streets of one less piece of shit.

"Oh God what have you done?" She has red stains over her face now, across her lips and cheeks.

Where there is discord, let me bring union.

She's in shock.

He doesn't blame her and so he leaves her there, not trying to save anyone. Just trying to make the streets better. Just trying to leave the world a little less shitty than when he came into it.

Where there is error, let me bring truth.

He stops at a pay phone and calls an ambulance.

They'll take care of her.

He hangs up when they ask for his name and walks on.

The rapist wasn't on his agenda but he always has room for one more and tonight he has a meeting.

A mob boss, lower level- ambitious but not important will be celebrating his birthday at a local pizzeria.

It's a front but it makes a good pie.

He might not have given two shits about such a low level but the bastard is ambitious and he has potential in spades. He'll do a lot worse than he already has and he already isn't innocent.

Twenty-three and he's had four men killed.

Where there is doubt, let me bring-

What does a city like this believe in any more? Gleaming glass and steal and dirty pavements. . .

He doesn't pretend he's saving anyone.

This is revenge and that's all it's ever been.

Where there is despair, let me bring-

He can't remember the words. Faith, hope, light, joy. . . he can't remember the words any more. They've fallen behind him like all of the bullet casings he leaves behind. Scattered and lost. Down alleyways and into storm drains and sewers.

Where there is darkness, let me bring -

Let me bring what?

He spots the mob boss from a roof top across the street, from a roof top across the street on his belly through the lens of a two year old scope.

The smug little fucker is laughing with someone.

Four men dead and he's laughing and eating like anyone else.

Where there is sadness-

Frank squeezes the trigger and the man drops, face first onto the table, shot straight through the chest.

The other men shout and Frank can't imagine pardon or understanding for them. Twenty-three years old and he'd made his choice.

He doesn't believe in rehabilitation.

Not in this city.

Not in this life time.

He packs up while they're scurrying around and is gone before they reach his roof. There will be no pardon tonight, not for any of them.

Frank's bones hurt more and more from this, his body doesn't like getting down on the ground any more.

He wonders how many years of this he has left.

How long until his vision and hearing and reflexes go and he's just another face, withered in a nursing home?

The dawn is coming and so he heads home, hearing some song he hasn't in decades and thinking of a time when people pushed flowers down the barrels of guns like it meant something. He knows now why he was never on the side of the flowers. Why he always held the gun.

He's lived long enough to know that he could never be an instrument of peace.

Not him, he never had it in him.

He's an instrument of war and it's too late to turn back now.

[sarcasticdolphin]

Heyyyoo <333 I've got a prompt for a drabble if you still want it: mozart flirting with someone and colloredo being jealous af. could be modern au idk I never read one with them and I'm curious about it

Ok - this is loosely based in the music conservatory (modern) au that I've done some headcanons for before. Just a straight modern au is quite hard because Colloredo's position doesn't really exist in the modern world. That being said here he is the dean of the college and Mozart is one of the star students.

Colloredo is in the black outfit.

Hieronymus watched the gala go off without a hitch from one of the highest boxes in the theatre, so high that the binoculars - an old set, perfectly weighted and adjusted to his eyes - were a necessity. He had always preferred to watch the galas from here. The acoustics were unmatched and he was less likely to have a student try and plead their case to him in the middle of the performance.

Mozart had been the standout of the show. Hieronymus had admittedly been a little rankled when the boy came out onto the stage in white, but his performance lived up to the angel of music that his garb proclaimed him to be.

He was less pleased by what he saw after the gala ended. Most everyone started making their way to the exits. Hieronymus would wait a bit for the same reason he sat so high, but Mozart gathered with a few of his friends at the foot of the stage, embracing them, laughing with them.

It was ... understandable, even if Hieronymus wasn't pleased. But the bottle slipped out of a jacket, passed around the giggling group, and had Hieronymus's knuckles turning white against the banister.

"Arco." His tone was low.

"Sir." Arco was beside him a moment later, obedient as always.

He gestured to the group by the stage and Arco raised his own binoculars to get a better look.

"Shall I call campus police for the drinking, Sir?"

Hieronymus looked at the group for a long moment, eyes flickering to Mozart in his angelic white. An ugly snake curled in his gut, seeing the young man so free with others.

"Not yet. Call down to security and have Mozart brought up here. I wish to compliment him myself. But have campus police waiting in the lobby for the others."

"Sir." Hieronymus heard Arco's footsteps as he left the box, but continued to watch the group as they passed the bottle around again. Mozart didn't drink the second time around, too busy demonstrating his superiority on the little piano by the stage.

It took what must have been a reasonable amount of time, considering that Arco had to coordinate security and campus police, but felt like an eternity to Hieronymus until the security person approached the group, leaving a moment later followed by Mozart, his footsteps petulant even from so great a distance.

Hieronymus left the box, going to stand on the little landing. It would be better that he didn't chance Mozart seeing what would happen to the others.

The steps were familiar enough to draw a smile to Hieronymus's face as Mozart and Arco slowly climbed the steps, Mozart's steps heavy, annoyed while Arco's were even and almost silent.

Mozart's hair was mussed as he rounded the final bend, trudged up the last few steps.

"Dean Colloredo." His speech wasn't slurred, but his eyes were far too glazed for the one gulp to he all he'd had that night.

"Mozart." The praise that comes next is easy, the easiest part of all of this. Heaping the glory the star student deserves onto him. Mozart perks up more and more with each little tidbit, despite the slightly glazed look in his eyes.

By the time they all make it down to the lobby, the police are long gone. As are Mozart's friends. He's a little wary, but only too happy to accept a ride from Hieronymus with the weather being what it is and his rides all apparently gone.

[elderyautjavegeta]

⭐star⭐ for that Piccolo/Vegeta goodness ;)

Oh ho PxV bestie, you know I gotchu! 💅🏻 So there's two bits that I'm particularly fond of in my Super Hero AU I'm writing (it's not even close to being done so these are just some bits I love SO FAR).

The basic background you need to know about my AU is the majority of people have some kind of powers, but there's of course a class of people with enormous powers that become Super Heroes and Super Villains. There are no Saiyans here but there are Namekians. Vegeta is a former villain trying to find his way over to the hero side after a long stretch in Super Villain Prison basically, and ends up politely bullying Piccolo into being his mentor, as he too is a former Villain who became a Hero. If Piccolo could do it, maybe he could teach Vegeta? BUT, Vegeta is well, Vegeta, and he's not exactly forthcoming with his trust. A lot of this story deals with that trust being earned on BOTH sides. And Goku is basically Superman because he's #1 and everyone loves him. 🥰

One term you'll need as well is SPAR, which stands for Super Power Authorization Regime. They're basically the Super Power Riot squad; they handle Super-related incidents that are too intense or dangerous for regular Law Enforcement. We hate them. All my homies hate SPAR. 👎🏻

So the first bit, while not super spicy, is them making up after a fight and discussing Freeza's murdering of Vegeta's family, and how it was his FATHER'S fault that Freeza (basically his same evil alien invader emperor self) found Earth in the first damn place.

At this point in the story, P and V are cautious friends in a mentor-mentee relationship, trying to know each other better. No real crush-type feelings yet, but Vegeta knows his body is acting weird around Piccolo for some reason. He's just got rocks for brains and doesn't know what a CRUSH feels like.

ALRIGHT HERE'S THE FIRST BIT (under a read more for the mobile users because this is gonna be LOOOOOONG). Enjoy!

[][][][][]

"Fine. Since you're always talking about showing trust," Vegeta said, "I'll share something with you, something that isn't public knowledge either. When Freeza attacked, he didn't just kill my father. I had a mother, a younger brother, a sister-in-law."

Piccolo got a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"All this time, I thought they were targeted because I didn't bow to Freeza, challenged him for a throne that didn't exist at the time. I was cocky, I didn't hide behind my Villain identity. My family line was well known and the resemblance between myself and my father was hard to miss. Freeza thought that attacking my family would force me to submit to him, but he was wrong."

Vegeta's fists clenched at his sides, the white gloves creaking with the force.

"It just made me hate him more. I only went along with his whims to try and get close to him, and when I got my chance, I was easily outclassed. If Kakarot hadn't shown up that day, Freeza would have killed me."

A large, cool hand placed itself on his shoulder but he didn't flinch away from the unexpected contact.

"Tarble…" his voice was strained as he thought about his brother. "He wasn't blessed like me. He had low level powers. So did my mother. They both had basic telekinetic abilities but nothing substantial, enough to float small objects, sometimes a kitchen chair on a good day. Tarble's wife, Gure, could change colors like a chameleon… they never stood a chance."

The hand squeezed his shoulder and he felt himself lean into it, his chest tight.

"And in the end, it wasn't even my fault… it was my father's…"

He wanted to feel bad for wording it that way, waited for the guilt to well up in him, but it didn't come. He felt nothing at first, but then the anger began to boil in his chest, the color rising up his neck, flushing it red. His hands hurt from how tight he was clenching them.

"And don't say something cliche like it's Freeza's fault and no one else's…" he growled. Piccolo's hand was so cold it felt like it was burning through his shirt. The strangeness of it was distracting, and he latched on to it, not wanting to fall into another violent spiral, not when he had invited Piccolo here to make amends for his last meltdown.

"Equal blame can be placed on all of us," he said softly, focusing on Piccolo's touch. Piccolo must have felt him trying to relax because the hand squeezed again and didn't loosen, the ice cold seeping into his very bones. His heart rate slowed, he felt the flushed feeling of blood in his face slowly go away, and he forced himself to take a deep breath.

"Very good," Piccolo's deep voice rumbled. The 'something' from before zipped through his body again, making his fingers tingle.

"That's new. How many powers do you actually have?" Vegeta asked, looking up at his mentor. Piccolo gave him one of his rare smiles.

"I have a few, but this is just Namekian biology. We run much colder than humans do. It's why I meditate out here so much. Lots of warmth and sunlight; it keeps me from getting too slow."

He looked thoughtful for a second and removed his hand from Vegeta's shoulder. In spite of himself, Vegeta missed the touch instantly.

"No one else knows that about me," Piccolo murmured. "I consider it a weakness, something that can be exploited. Cool me down enough and I would stop moving, and eventually stop breathing I imagine. I don't ever plan to be in a situation where I can test that theory though…"

Vegeta hummed.

"I'm guessing your home planet is much warmer than Earth then."

Piccolo nodded and when he sat down in the grass right on the river's edge, Vegeta joined him.

"Yes, much warmer," Piccolo said, his eyes seeming to look far beyond the forest in front of him. "We don't have seasons or night time on Planet Namek. The planet is surrounded by three suns that constantly put off heat and light. Our grass and trees are blue and our water is green, like an inverse image of Earth. We don't have much in the way of plants but we do have Ajisa trees. They're incredibly rare and hard to grow, but they're worth the effort. A cataclysm wiped most of them out along with the rest of the plants on Namek a long time ago, but Elders managed to save a few seeds and have been slowly regrowing the Ajisa trees. There were a few mature ones that I was able to see when I was there…"

Vegeta was enthralled listening to Piccolo describe his home planet. He wondered if he would ever be able to make it there to see the Ajisa trees for himself one day… he may have ended up being a Super, but his love of the stars never faded.

"You miss it," Vegeta finally said. Piccolo simply nodded. They sat quietly together for a few moments, long enough for Vegeta to get his thoughts back together.

"Whatever it is that you're not telling me," Vegeta said softly, "I will respect your judgment as my mentor."

Piccolo looked down at Vegeta, who met his gaze immediately, his gaze sharp but his eyes calm once more.

"For now."

The corner of Piccolo's mouth turned up before he looked away again. Vegeta didn't.

[][][][][]

I just really really love them just SITTING and talking, it's SO NICE AHHHHHH. And Piccolo starting to open up to Vegeta because he wants Vegeta to open up to HIM. These two are so hard headed, if they would just sit down and TALK, ugh.

Side note, shout out to @idontremembermynamebutithinkits for the Namekians run cold headcanon that I borrowed. I really really loved it, I hope you don't mind!! Art work that inspired me is here -> https://idontremembermynamebutithinkits.tumblr.com/post/697842102966616064/you-know-how-i-headcanon-that-namekian-has-low

Second bit takes place in a hospital. I won't spoil why Vegeta is there, but he got hurt (they get hurt in this fic, they're superheroes but they're not GODS), and the conversation from the previous part was resumed and he learned some NEW stuff that fucked him right up. Launched into full blown panic attack, something he's never experienced before. Piccolo was there to help. This bit takes place after he finally calms down.

[][][][][]

"Well that was embarrassing…" Vegeta grumbled from under his blanket, grabbing Piccolo's attention.

"The hospital staff are used to it, I'm sure," Piccolo said, trying to be comforting, but Vegeta's glare returned and he looked away.

"I wasn't talking about them," the smaller man mumbled. "I was talking about you. All you've seen from me lately is weakness. It's disgraceful."

"Nothing you've done lately is weak, Vegeta. You are not weak for reacting badly to the idea of Freeza still being alive, not after all he did to you," Piccolo said calmly, hating that Vegeta's eyes squeezed shut at the sound of Freeza's name.

"Progress isn't linear," he continued, "and neither is healing. You got hurt, but you still saved people, myself and Solar Flare included. You are not weak for being scared."

Vegeta looked at his mentor again, expecting to see pity or something akin to it, but only saw warmth and understanding on the Namekian's face. His blood sang again and the cocktail in his IV drip was making him feel bold, so he slipped a hand out from under his blanket and placed it palm down on the bed wordlessly. Piccolo looked at it for a moment before taking it gently, and Vegeta instantly felt a soothing coolness permeate his hand, spreading slowly up his arm.

"Why didn't the doctor make you leave?" Vegeta asked, letting his eyes slide closed again as he relaxed further into the bed. He was so tired, and Piccolo's hand was so cold… it felt good…

"I… persuaded him into letting me stay. I said you wouldn't stay calm without me around, and he didn't seem too keen on trying to wrestle you himself later."

Well, the part about keeping him calm wasn't exactly a lie, Vegeta thought, recalling how he had begged Piccolo to not leave him. He hated the hospital, it reminded him too much of SPAR's torture chamber-looking excuse for medical rooms, and in the throes of his panic, he had almost convinced himself that he was back there, until he saw Piccolo.

"Thank you… for staying with me," Vegeta said, his words slurring together as his body finally calmed down enough to let sleep back in. He heard Piccolo hum at him, nothing more than a rumble from his chest, before sleep finally took him…

As Piccolo watched Vegeta sleep, he looked down at their clasped hands. The vast size difference there was almost comical, and he allowed himself to smooth his thumb over the back of Vegeta's hand, just once…

[][][][][]

AHHHHHHH WHAT ARE THOSE, FEELINGS???? ARE THOSE FEELINGS FROM YOU TWO????? OH. OH. I love it, this is where they start kinda feeling a little different towards each other. Getting the butterflies in their stomachs and all the other good sugary bullshit that I ADORE. Oh, Krillin's Hero Name is Solar Flare btw, I couldn't NOT give him that name. Love that for him.

I have so much love for this story, I've been working on it off and on for a few years now, and finally buckled down and started REALLY cranking on it a few months ago, right after the New Year.

To whoever else makes it this far, thanks for reading, and I hope you'll enjoy the fully edited, final edition that I'll post on AO3!!!

(/ 0 w0)/ ~💟

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary83

12/3-4/2023

sunday - monday

sooo lazyyyy.

low energy. i have not done the stuff i wanted to do today. i am going to shower, and then at least try. i need to do the drum programming , at a minimum i think. maybe not all of it but at least getting more of it out, and then maybe doing one or two songs from the album, to get those mixed better.

okay i went and did some of that, i worked more on the drums, since i had a good idea for the main riff that's going decently i think, just getting that all aligned is going to be the struggle. or like, in time, i guess. i wonder if the whole thing is as intended.

anyway i am so tired now.

here is one thing i put together today, a server asked a daily question about the 'thesis' guiding the art anyone makes. i used quotes instead:

"a little later, the soldier maurice pilgore killed his lover, escudero, to rob him of something under a thousand francs, then, for his twentieth birthday, they cut off his head while, you recall, he thumbed his nose at the enraged executioner. finally, a young ensign, still a child committed treason for treason's sake: he was shot. and it is in honor of their crimes that i am writing my book. i learned only in bits and pieces of that wonderful blossoming of dark and lovely flowers: one was revealed to me by a scrap of newspaper; another was casually alluded to by my lawyer; another was mentioned, almost sun, by the prisoners--their song became fantastic and funereal (a de profundis), as much so as one of the plaints which they sing in the evening, as the voice which vrosses the cells and reaches me blurred, hopeless, inflected. at the end of the phrases it breaks, and that break makes it so sweet that it seems borne by the music of angels, which horrifies me, for angels fill me with horror, being, i imagine, neither mind nor matter, white, filmy, and frightening." jean genet, our lady of the flowers.

"i have discovered a miracle above the rain, thought joana. a miracle split into chunky, serious, twinkling stars, like a stationary warning: like a lighthouse. what are they trying to say? in them i sense the secret, the twinkling is the impassive mystery i hear flowing inside me, crying in broad, desperate, romantic notes. dear god, at least allow me to commuicate with them, satisfy my desire to kiss them. (…) stars, stars, i pray. the word splinters between my teeth into fragile shards. (…) what does it matter i still appear to be in the dormitory at this moment, the other girls dead to the world, bodies unmoving on their beds? what does it matter what really is? (…) i am fooling myself, i need to return. i don't feel madness in my wish to bite stars, but the earth still exists. and because the first truth is in the earth and the body." "(i'm writing about the meager minimum adorning it with purple, jewels and splendor. is this how you write? no, it's not by accumulation but by stripping naked. but i fear nakedness, since it is the last word) (…) would she have longed for the future? i hear the ancient music of words and words, yes, that's it. at this very moment macabea feels a deep nausea in her stomach and almost vomited, she wanted to vomit something that wasn't her body, to vomit something luminous. a thousand pointed star." clarice lispector, near to the wild at hear + hour of the star

"he was seized, kneaded by intelligible hands, bitten by a vital tooth; he entered with his living body into the anonymous shapes of words, giving his substance to them, establishing their relationships, offering his being to the word 'be'. for hours he remained inert, captivated and unveiled. and even later when, having abandoned himself and, contemplating his book, he recognize himself with disgust in the form of the text he was reading, he retained the thought that (while, perched upon his shoulders, the word he and the word i were beginning their carnage) there remained within his person which was already deprived of its senses obscure words, disembodied souls and angels of words, which were exploring him deeply." maurice blanchot, thomas the obscure

"the people wait for me, checking their watches, standing at their doorsteps, but i am a speeding car that never stops. i'm huge, shiny, and new, coming from the other side of midnight. gliding mass is strangely solid for a phantom, clad in a metal that's lighter than air. vaulting from the abyss of my garage, deep in the deepest folds of night, i blast forth, almost floating off the ground, and rattle the sky with a crash of silver. trees damp with dew sag and weep as i race past them, and the nocturnal birds flocking after me lay screaming in my wake. one by one, i overturn the traffic signs that line the road like white memorials. the gas stations i pass erupt in flames, leaving pocks of fire on the expanse of night… i ride and ride and never arrive. (…) there's something about kayo in these fits of delirium that shoots me through the heart. at times like these, she's truly at her best. every move she makes is resolute, a vow to resist the pull of tragedy, to poke fun at every situation, no matter how painful or grave, like someone flicking a watermelon to hear the sound it makes before they buy it. her laughter was potent enough to scorch the grass for miles around, to putrefy a field of ripe red strawberries." yukio mishima, star

"i fell on her with my full weight. she uttered a terrific scream. i clenched my teeth as hard as i could. at that moment we began sliding down the sloping ground. farther down, the rock formed an overhang. if i hadn't stopped our slide with my foot, we would have fallen into the night, and i might have wondered with amazement if we weren't falling into the void of the sky." georges bataille, blue of noon

"(…) let me say before i go on that everything i do is based on an urge that i don't understand, though i keep trying to understand it (…) until there was nothing around but a big off-white shell in the middle of the worst mess in the world. god, human bodies are such garbage bags." dennis cooper, frisk

anyway i am so tired and i think all of that speaks for itself, i wanted to read today but i have been so exhausted all day. so:

byebye!!!!!!!

[koreposion]

Horror was always the type to never let bloodlust consume him. It's the reason why his LV never impacted him as much as it did the others. He was supposed to be levelheaded in a stressful situation, the one to piece things back together.

How was he supposed to do that in another version of his AU. He walked ahead of the others down the dark hallways of the lab. Parts missing and wallas torn for scavenging any functioning equipment. This must have been a punishment of some kind, he couldn't stand the cold interior of the halls.

The others were speaking, they were, he just could hear them. His reality was cracking with each step he took down the hall. To waste energy on a conversation only being had to lighten the mold was pointless. Trying to find himself was pointless, what use did he have? Nightmare had refered to this version of him as "Axe" how fun.

Soon he spotted red, a iconic red of his own eye light. He dropped to all fours and sprinted down the hall. Hoping to complete the mission quickly so they all could leave. Cross yelled a warning, he didn't listen, it didn't matter as long as the job was done.

He tackled himself onto the ground and kicked away the alternates weapon. In which he started talking,

"Now I'm really going crazy, there is no way I'm here? Losing my mind wasn't enough but now I have to see things appear in thin air." Axe spoke, his voice low and gravely, it scratched at Horror's ears like nails, "What are you supposed to torment me? What about myself don't I already know, you're just as pathetic as I am. Anyone can see that you don't want to be here."

Horror didn't respond, moving to just tie Axe up.

"Oh this is rich, I'm now too good for myself. What? Did you forget that you're a liar and a hypocrite? Are we forgetting that we leave people to rot even if we could save them? We're pathetic, what would this solve. You don't matter to anyone, and you never will." Axe was just as wordy as Horror was whenever he was frustrated. The same went for Horror's temper for being insulted. What right did this other version have to torment the both of them.

They don't need this, it's not healthy.

Horror doesn't want this, he starts crying and Axe takes the chance to shove Horror off of him. It was clear that Axe was very aware of not actually being delusional, at least in the hallucination way.

"Stars you are so weak! A few words and that's what it takes for you to cry? So the murder didn't do it, the hunger didn't do it, the loss of sleep?!" Axe flipped and stood up, watching as the rest of the team filed in. He laughed, "Oh so we're making friends now?! You going to tell them how pointless living is and how depressing you find life? To let them watch you rot because you're selfish?"

Dust saw Horror crying and went to comfort him before Cross stopped him. He pushed Dust and Killer back and took a step away himself. Horror's tears had turned a inky purple, and ran down his face like blood.

"This isn't good-" Cross spoke as he watched Nightmare's magic manifest in Horror in a way he hadn't seen before.

Crunch. Horror had slammed Axe's head into the ground, breaking off bone from the hole in his skull. He then ate the pieces, feeling them cut up his mouth as he swallowed it. Blood trickled out of his mouth, a deep royal purple.

Crack- a noise of bone being broken as Axe forcefully ripped bone from Horror's skull. He tossed it away, tearing at Horror's clothing and ribs. The pain didn't stop either of them from fighting like rabid dogs.

Axe tried to flip Horror off of him, but Horror pinned him down. His red eyelight turning a soft lilac color as he repeatedly slammed Axe's head into the dirty white floors of the lab. Noises of struggle, the splatter of blood and crying filled the dark corridor.

Horror sunk his teeth into his alternates neck. Tearing bone from his spine and eating it without chewing. His body was made for eating monsters, Axe remained alive as Horror went back for more with the goal of ridding himself from this horrid reflection.

Choosing to completely devour his face, starting from the skull wound to his eye and mouth. Leaving an empty hold where the face should be. The rest of the body crumbled into dust and Horror had gained a LVL, he hugged himself as he sobbed.

The LV he gained burning purple into him instead of red. His wound healed itself with purple thread and his eye remained purple. The pain barely registered to him, and sat there cradling himself. He scrathed at his rips, where his stomach would be if it formed. He was still so hungry and he didn't know why.

This wasn't good.