#the bead necklace and arm tattoo probably doesn’t help

[lilislegacy]

to anyone who still isn’t on board with percy jackson as marine veterinarian, i ask you to consider something

percy wearing scrubs

[seijohsfairy]

𝙰𝙱𝚂𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴

Semi Eita has an attitude problem and it starts with you. But you are the one he ends his day with too, and maybe you can convince yourself that’s enough.

thank you so much miki @/undermattsun please go adore her skate rats like I do if you haven’t yet

.wordc. 1k+ tw dubcon (high), smoking, unhealthy relationships, semi-public, degradation

+

If anything should have tipped you off on what kind of day it would be, it should have been the way you walked in and almost choked on the thick waft of smoke being blown your way. A heavy tobacco smell that you’re not familiar with, and a wide, gleaming grin behind the white curtain as you shake it away with your hand. Yamagata gives you a quick up and down, before smiling wider and throwing a glance over his shoulder. “Yo, Semi! You got company!” He moves aside a bit more to usher you inside, even though you have plenty of room to move past him. As you walk further into the warm, somewhat musty room, Yamagata has the indecency to smack your ass when your back is turned to him, just lifting his slit eyebrow when you squeak. “Good to see you here again, pet.”

And if that, or the way some of the others are demanding payment for their correct bets, wasn’t clear enough, you definitely should have known when you plop down across from Eita on the couches and he’s drawing mindless circles into the bare back of some other girl, her top only covering the front by some help of the fraying spaghetti straps. You’re not against games, you’re not, but three weeks of almost total silence and the occasional mass ‘share my mixtape’ message isn’t much of a game. You hate how jealous you feel watching his long digits paint invisible wonders on skin, someone’s skin that you know doesn’t matter to him in the end. But you should matter, and he’s damn good at pretending you don’t. Some of the other people fill the couch next to you, leaving you squished between the too-hot body of a splayed out Kawanishi, and Tendou, who’s deodorant is sprayed on so heavy it’s making your eyes water.

You prop your feet on the coffee table and slump back when Eita sends you another pointed look, ignoring the way he tickles his fingers down her thigh as he leans down to grab one of the clean bongs. Instead you focus yourself on the caramel blonde to your side, bumping him with your elbows and holding out your fingers in a pinching gesture. “Pretty please?”

He snorts, and hands his blunt over after taking another deep pull, blowing it to the side as he leans his elbows on his knees. The way dark eyes keep roaming over your exposed skin from across the small table doesn’t bother you as much when you can focus on someone’s company you also enjoy.

Tendou swings his arm around both you and the girl squeezed to his other side at some point during the next hour, you don’t notice much of it. All you know is that you’re curled up against Taichi with a warmth in your skull and a sticky, cotton-like feeling lifting your body. Your legs tucked up over his and the giggle against your cheek feeling good. “Yeah? And how long would that be?” he drawls out, chin tilted back a little to look at you through half-lidded eyes.

“We’ve been best friends since— well… forever,” you respond after a few beats, swaying a little with the music in the room. “But I don’t like him lately.” You look back at Eita when you hear him laugh, the one he only does when he’s smoked a few rounds and his eyes can’t truly focus on anything anymore. But it’s loud and wide and it splits his face in such genuine enjoyment that you can’t help but stare any time he does it. Just a pity the girl is sucking dark blots on the side of his neck while he rants to Ushijima about something, hearing Tendou and some of the girls quip in too. As if feeling your eyes on him, he rolls his head back and your way again, peeking out the tip of his tongue and leaving the glistening muscle out for long enough it starts looking like the only thing you want. In, on, surrounding you. Then he pulls it back, making the black jewel disappear along with it, and gives you another up and down like you’re the one in the wrong here.

The dark blonde beneath you grins wider when you turn back with a scowl, barely chewing on his answer. “Maybe you should move on to someone who’ll treat you, then.” It’s just what you want to hear, you know this just as well as he does, but you can’t help but consider the promise of attention, even if you know that Taichi is just as bad as his own close friend. Your close friend, the one you’ve been head over heels with since you were old enough to realize it, the one who used your free-to-grab feelings as a cleaning wipe for his issues.

You huff, but brush a finger over his lips when he picks out the dart from between them. Taichi’s eyes flick back up to yours, then to Semi, then back to you. He grins. “Need someone to make you forget, pretty girl?”

Before you get the chance to answer, luckily for you and your useless, cotton-filled brain, there’s bangs at the door. Reon, Goshiki and not much later Shirabu all walk in differing levels of drenched, dropping their boards next to the shoes. They must’ve gotten caught in the rain when returning, and considering the eldest’s pointed expression, they probably kept skating despite his protests. You stand from the couch with a little sigh and stretch your limbs above your head, humming softly. Taichi’s hand is on your ass to keep you upright, thumb slipping out of the pocket where he had buried it earlier. “I’ll go get ‘em some towels,” you say, shuffling past the sets of feet with careful, somewhat clumsy movements.

As you go, you send Eita a quick glance. He has his shirt unbuttoned way too low, exposing part of one of his tattoos. The golden necklace you got the asshole for his birthday falls between his pecks, reminding you again what a horrible idea this was. You’re a glutton for torture. Still, as you walk you feel the wetness grinding your panties to your center, remembering the way he likes fucking into you until you’re a blubbering mess. He’s a menace, but you’re the idiot that keeps running back. And you won’t take his bullshit next time, is what you promise yourself, every time you end up on your hands and knees for your once-best friend.

You wobble walking up the stairs, the old wood creaking obnoxiously with each step. The shits are so old someone will break through them one day. As you flick on the lights with the back of your hand and bend down to sort through the messy cabinet tucked into the wall, a soft glow starts to build over you again, seeming to burn through your bones. You turn with the towels in hand, only to be slammed against the wall. The harsh movement knocks the wind out of you, but the eerily vacant, dark expression is what keeps you in place. His hold is lazy anyway, like he couldn’t care less if you wanted to run. “Having fun being a dumb, insensitive slut?” he mouths, barely reaching over the noise downstairs.

Your lips crack open to answer, but you remain frozen. Your every fiber seems to wiggle happily at his touch, his attention, and you arch your back so your chest can brush up against him. It’s childish, it’s desperate, and you don’t care because his lips hover over yours and he growls lowly into your mouth. “You had plenty to say so where are your words now, huh?”

He kisses you, pressing his mouth against yours hard and rough and taking your tongue like he always owned it in the first place. Drowning you in him and forcing his air down your throat when you try to pull away for air. You try to shove at his chest, but your traitorous fingers curl into his shirt to pull him closer instead, and he reaches to grab your thigh and yank it to lock around him. There his fingers stay for a while, digging in and creating marks. Eita isn’t soft with you, chooses not to be, it’s infuriating. Because you know better than anyone he can be, and does it well.

When he urges your head back by pulling at the hair on the base of your skull, finally disconnecting his mouth from yours, you whine. The rest of you stays molten together, chest and thighs and his hard-on in between your legs where it should be. “Gonna take this fat cock right here where anyone can see?” You can’t think right, immediately nodding at his question. Anything. Anything he’s willing to give. “Yeah? My pretty pet wants it so bad, how sweet. Maybe next time I’ll just take you on the couch then. Bet you’d let me do that too, show off that slutty cunt for everyone to see.”

“Whatever you want, Eita,” you whine, rolling your hips against him as you keep slicking up your panties.

“You’re so fucking desperate for me. I love ruining you,” he’s already messing with the zipper of your jeans and pulling them down before you can think about what you just said. “I’ll fuck you nice and brainless, baby. And we’ll let your friend watch, sound good?” His long fingers dip into your underwear at once, groaning a little at your dripping slit for him already. ”Maybe Goshiki too, he loves licking up his senpai’s sloppy seconds from dumb, horny pets like you.”

Then he shoves his pants down to expose himself, dropping your thigh so he can give himself some messy pumps and spread his beads of precum around with his thumb. The somewhat aware part of your brain reminds you ‘condom’, but knowing Eita he’d find some excuse to take it off anyway. So you let him line himself up and grin, looking over his shoulder at the stairs for a moment in fear before he slides inside too fast. He still stretches you to the edge, bottoming out with a loud grunt. “And be loud, fucking whore, make them hear it. I bet a hundred bucks on this dripping cunt.”

[secret-engima]

How do the rest of the Kingsglaive react to Nyx and Nox getting together? (Hell, how do Regis & Co/Noctis & Co react?) Were there betting pools? (I bet there was) Also, what happens when Galahdians from different clans marry? Does one partner leave their clan and join their spouse? Do they stay in their birth clans? Or are they both adopted into the other clan and considered to be of two clans?

Hmmmm mixed reactions of shock, “ah-hah!”, and possibly eternal despair (mostly from Lib and Axis).

-No betting pools for a while, because somehow only Lib and Axis saw this coming (they know their idiots, they know that their idiots have the Same Chaotic Energy and will be magnetically attracted to each other, it was just a matter of time).

-Betting pool starts up after Nyx kisses Nox in front of like- half the glaive. But they Don’t Tell Anyone because they want the DrAMa and Regis might ruin it if he knows too soon. The betting pool is over how long it will take before someone catches those two making out/who catches them. They gleefully act as Nyx’s and Nox’s alibi’s whenever necessary because watching Nyx try to Court Nox like a Proper Galahdian and Nox flail as he tries to Court Back with Axis’s help is the most entertainment they’ve had in  y e a r s. Ardyn runs the betting pool because Monica is not allowed to know about this yet, Titus just ... sighs and braces for the apocalypse that is an Ulric-Izunia pairing.

-Ignis is the one to catch them about- a year and one Galahdian wedding later (Galahdian weddings are so short and informal that it’s truly ridiculously easy to do it, Nox might not even know it counts as a wedding until after when Axis tracks him down and slaps him over the head when he spots the Wedding Bead/Braid in his hair). Ignis is like- 14-15 by that point? Probably? and accidentally walks in on them kissing.

-In. His. Kitchen.

-To say that Ignis is Displeased™ is an understatement of the Century. He tattles to Regis and the others Immediately as revenge, but as he doesn’t know about Galahdian weddings, all he says is that Nox and Nyx are dating/making out. Regis is- a little bit flummoxed but Ulric has a stellar record so ... okay? Just no funny business before marriage, Nox, don’t make my mistakes. Nox, who is already married by Galahdian standards but Not Ready to tell his Dad that he basically eloped by accident is just like- “Sure” while Nyx bites down on her snickers with much effort.

-Cor tries to Shovel Talk, but Ulrics have no survival instincts and are thus not threatened. Clarus takes one look at Nox’s face and sighs heavily, because he’s getting Regis flashbacks all over again, but seeing as Clarus is the one with grandkids already and not Regis- he can’t exactly lecture.

-Ardyn won the betting pool btw.

-Noctis is like- 12-13 and only just getting into his own “girls are cute” phase so he’s more than a little weirded out by all this. Tries to Shovel Talk on behalf of his brother and is cooed at for it because he’s just a bby LC to the glaive, lookit him try to be threatening so cute.

-Gladio asks Nox how he did it, Nox bluntly admits that Nyx started it and Nox has no advice whatsoever. Gladio goes away disappointed, then remembers he has a married older brother and goes to pester him on How To Land A Date. Axis is Officially Dead Inside™.

-They manage to keep their relationship a secret from the public for like- another two years when Regis finally figures out that Nox and Nyx are married by Galahdian standards and treating each other as such and if he wants a Proper Lucian Wedding he must orchestrate one himself.

-To describe the media, noble society circles, and mooglenet once this gets out, I give you two words: Nuclear. Meltdown.

On Galahdian weddings/etc:

-Usually the partner to propose leaves their Clan to join the other Clan, because proposing indicates a willingness to join their spouse-to-be’s family over their own. This does not count if one member is an “Outsider”, in which case the Outsider is formally accepted into the Clan. This also doesn’t count for Ulics, because Ulrics are Special by Galahdian standards and Nox was fine with becoming an Ulric even though he was adopted as an Arra and so “technically” Nyx should have joined Axis’s Clan. Because Nyx is both an Ulric and possibly the last of her Clan, nobody is surprised or disapproving that Nox becomes an Ulric instead.

-Adoption via both Clans happens if the wedding is being used to finalize an Alliance, though afterward the children are split per Clan name- boys going to the Clan of the wife and girls going to the Clan of the husband for reasons long ago lost in myth and tradition.

-In case you are wondering, Galahdian weddings are Stupid Simple. It goes like this-

Step One: Make an appropriately pretty/shiny wedding bead and courtship necklace for intended Spouse.

Step Two: Present wedding bead and necklace to intended Spouse in front of as Many Witnesses As Possible (minimum of three, but as this is usually done in like- the village square on a market day for good luck, witnesses usually number 90% of the given village population).

Step Three: Pray to all that is holy that intended Spouse accepts proposal and doesn’t stab you in the face as is their Right should they find you unworthy.

Step Four: Thank all that is holy when intended Spouse accepts bead and necklace and help Spouse put on necklace and make a new braid for the wedding bead.

Congratulations you are now married in the eyes of your Clan, your Spouse’s Clan, everyone in your given village, and Ramuh the Fulgarian with all the rights, privileges, and duties therein.

Courtship is an optional step both before and after Galahdian wedding. Some recommend it beforehand, but as this tradition was founded in tiny villages where everyone grew up knowing everyone else it is not necessary. Most initiate Courtship afterward as the Galahdian version of a honeymoon (since a villager can’t exactly take months off when there is work to be done and food to hunt).

Wedding Feast/Party is optional and is often folded into the nearest Festival to save on time/money/food.

Galahdians do not divorce. It just doesn’t happen. Fighting couples can separate to live with their old Clans, but regular efforts must be attempted to patch the relationship. In Ye Olden Days a “divorce” was one spouse challenging the other to a death match in front of the whole village, survivor gets the kids, the house, and all the possessions therein. For probably obvious reasons this practice has not been in favor for about five+ centuries, though angry, non-lethal duels are still considered a way to blow off steam.

If a spouse is abusive and can be proven so, divorce is still not a thing in the typical sense, because the Clan of both spouses will cast out the abuser and mark him/her as Nameless and Clanless, Shunned and Scourge-blooded. Abuser will be forcibly tattooed on the hand/arm with a mark that tells all Galahdians who see what this person is so that they cannot trick another spouse into their clutches. They are then considered a non-entity, purged from all historical records, inheritance lists, and population records and the rescued spouse is treated as if he/she was never married in the first place and had the kids all by his/her self and thus is free to marry someone else after a year-long minimum period to recover from any trauma.

There we go, thank you for coming to my TED talk on Galahdian marriage customs.

[shiftingpath]

To My Exalted Secret Santa

A Solar, a Lunar, and a Dragon-Blood behind the cut:

1) Ledaal Manus, the Hand of Towersong, Twilight Caste Solar

Manus is a beautiful, delicate-looking young man, impossibly young for his position controlling the Clockwork Empire, a Solar kingdom stretching across the North. Manus is dedicated to being whatever his Circle needs; scholar, spy, tactician, diplomat, prophet, but his real skill is in management, changing the flow of entire economies with the flick of his brush. The enemies of Towersong are beginning to consider Manus the most dangerous of his Circle for his subtlety, adaptability, and ruthlessness.

Manus is of average height, slim and pretty. His skin is pale and his hair white, kept in a short ponytail or braid just a bit longer than his shoulders. He wears oval-shaped spectacles, and his remaining natural eye is ice blue. The other one is glass set with aquamarine in the shape of a broken hourglass. Occasionally when trying to appear intentionally intimidating he'll wear an eyepatch, but he is very vain about his appearance and prefers to come off flawlessly pretty.

His upbringing as a Dynast is no longer very evident in his fashion sense, which leans more towards the (Viking) style of nearby Karn, but he does still like the high collars. Manus tries never to show more skin than his face whenever possible. He loves purple and charcoal, and wears gold to match his Queen. In addition to his northern adventurer look, he loves jewellery and always wears a gold circlet on his brow and a gear ring nailed through his finger, as well as plenty of other necklaces and rings that he changes out as the mood suits. Though they're usually hidden, he also has a brand around his bicep of a chain sealed with a crown, and a bioluminescent tattoo around one wrist that looks like a glowing blue string of beads.

His beloved sword Silver Riddle is a long thin moonsilver daiklave, with tiny starmetal strands etched up the blade. He used to wear his hair in a signature long white-blue braid to his knees, but when Ligier cut it off Manus instead fixed it to his sword like a long tassel. His other common artifacts are a blue jade chain shirt and one of a pair of matched assassin's blades, his showing a brilliant orichalcum sun in a blue jade sky. He also wears a black jade badge with the mons of House Ledaal.

Manus is a Solar Circle sorcerer, absolutely chock full of weird magic, a hint of necromancy, and just a whole load of bizarre clock-themed eerieness. He is a prophet who can pull the stars from the sky, a sorcerer who can stop time and walk unseen through it, a warden of Towersong's memory able to strip entire experiences from the minds of the public if he deems it too secret or too horrific, an arcane link to Autochthon himself. If you make it clock-themed it is probably appropriate.

Manus is distant, cool, and very polite. In combat he is a noble defender, pleased to act as assistant to his Dawn Caste best friend. In diplomacy he is ambitious and shrewd, and will make allies of nearly anyone with his willingness to bargain and deal. In home life he is deeply respectful of his father and spouse, still trying to be the perfect Realm son and husband. The world perceives him as a spider sitting behind his desk, controlling the North, and in his dreams, he walks strange roads lit in blue-green, patrolling alone among the frozen, sleeping citizens of his home.

References 1 2 3

2) The Ninth Hand, No Moon Octopus Lunar Ninth Hand is a vengeful sorcerer, eager to cut down the Realm and its monsters wherever they encounter it. They are a consummate shapeshifter, discarding forms with no sentimentality and rarely considering any shape "their own", having long since happily forgotten the details of the shape they were born to. However, over time they have refined their preferences, and when they appear "as themself" to another, the forms they invent for it will usually have some overlapping common traits.

In a "true" form, they usually appear very tall and slim, with long fingers. Their appearance of androgyny varies widely, though they often appear with a flat chest. Their skin is a deep black with underlying blue tones, covered with patterns of multicoloured dots rippling across their flesh at random, their subconscious octopus nature trying to camouflage them into the background. Their moonsilver tattoos appear like transluscent silver scarves, caught with stars, weaving in twirls and loops across their face and down their limbs. Several large hearthstones are set into their skin. In their forehead, an opal. Between their collarbones, a cloudy grey gem with a black swirl deep inside. On one arm, just below the shoulder, is a translucent grey stone and on the other, a translucent black one. The most important of these turns all water nearby them an inky black, and another causes tendrils of dark water to form out of their anima, able to pickpocket or open doors for them and so on.

They usually appear with a shaved or hairless head, though if they appear with hair, it's natural, strong and curly, styled into shaved-side mohawks of locs or beaded braids pulled back. Their eyes are usually either a eerie warm silver or a brown so dark as to appear black. When wanting to appear extra spooky they'll make their sclera black as well. They can shift their clothes as effortlessly as their body, so their disguises are easy and appropriate. When appearing as themself, they wear coils of long violet sashes swooped loosely around their chest and arms, and soft loose pants easy to move in. They wear a black cuff around each wrist, and a gold bracelet around one wrist and one ankle. They never wear shoes.

Their beastman form makes them even taller, with unusually long arms and fingers. They have four or six arms, and their Tell becomes much more pronounced, constant camouflaging patterns emerging and disappearing. They like to pose their extra arms in artistic, occult fashions while using one set as the “working pair”.

Ninth Hand carries one artifact, the Grasping Claw of the Nemesis, a sorcerer's staff appearing like a single long thin band of moonsilver twisted like a ribbon. It's topped with a sharp obsidian claw with three prongs, which when used to clutch at an arcane link to a person, makes it easier to cast spells of darkness and hatred upon them. Hand likes to use it primarily on other sorcerers, whom they regard with a jealous rage.

Ninth Hand is cool and distant by nature, and speaks in an oblique, formal way. They are a cunning planner, cautious and suspicious, sitting back and observing long before taking action. They have nothing but disdain and disgust for the rich and idle, especially Dynasts. However, they are relatively warm and protective of the working class, slaves and sex workers, and servants of all stripes, having come from a similar background and never forgetting the exhaustion and indignity of it. They are also fond of younger Lunars and are happy to lend them aid and advice in their personal goals, with no need for favours or payment. They are often found still as a statue, sitting cross-legged on the ground with a wide bowl on their lap full of burning herbs, witnessing visions of the future as they inhale the smoke.

Ninth Hand's favourite spells are Death of Obsidian Butterflies, Impenetrable Veil of Night, and Insidious Tendrils of Hate. Their anima appears like silver tentacles shifting in and out of view as if a cloud passed in front of them. Twisting tendrils are revealed, grasping exotic and glimmering gems sparkling with power. 

References 1 2 3

3) Ledaal Zyden, Fire Aspected Dragon-Blood Some of you may remember Zyden. This is a new Zyden! We relaunched his campaign from the ground up!

Zyden is a quietly troubled young man fresh out of the House of Bells, a gruelling experience that has left him bitter and disillusioned. His natural hunger to help and support others was nearly extinguished, and he still has long periods feeling like a guttering flame. He is friendly and open with nearly everyone, and his feeling like he should hear them out has led to him befriending mortal children, Lintha reavers, and even Anathema. At school he specialized in solo spear fighting, and his skill at it has let him outfight even Dragon-Bloods years older than him. He loves fighting, and knowing he's doing the right thing defending villages of mortals or ostracized outcastes gives him a heart and intensity he lacks in defending himself. His time travelling in the West has led to him picking up all sorts of skills unbecoming for a Dynastic Dragon-Blood; cooking, sailing, playing the tin whistle. He takes immense joy in them and truly loves cooking for others.

He has already been contacted by three Sidereals, curious to observe and guide him, for they believe that against all expectation and likelihood, he may be the inheritor of a grand and important destiny that would set him head and shoulders above his Dragon-Blooded kin in achievements. But destiny is a fickle thing, and they have not told him what it might involve. Zyden's fate has been cast in the air, and even Heaven doesn't yet know where it will land.

Zyden is quite tall, with pale skin that sunburns easily. His eyes are icy blue and his hair is white, flickering like flames. He is always warm to the touch, and water evaporates off him quickly. His "good clothes", as he thinks of them, are a grey silk shirt with a high collar, a pair of soft trousers similar to martial training gear, and a pair of boots with upturned toes. He has a lot of trouble forcing himself to do up his collar the entire way, and it's often open a button or two. The clothes he prefers to wear sailing alongside Coral crews are a loose white shirt and grey-blue trousers, going barefoot whenever possible. Around his waist he wears a blue and yellow sash he was given from a local in the Neck, and around his neck he wears a string with a large shark tooth. When he is most content, he'll sometimes tuck a tropical flower in his hair, which are almost always, coincidentally, blue.

He currently wields two artifacts- Saltspray Exorcist, a black jade guan dao famous in his family for its specialty against ghosts and the undead, and the Uniform of the Vigilant Watchman, a blue jade reinforced buff jacket. Exorcist is a tall spear with a long slashing head of black jade, a white silk tassel dangling from it. The haft is decorated with gold studs, with a gold cap on the end. His buff jacket is dark blue, with smooth plates of bright blue jade. It has a wide collar and is decorated with gold embroidery of a flaming sun emerging from dragon-scale clouds.

His anima is a brilliant-burning four-pointed star of white fire with a blue core.

References 1 2 3 4

[unlockthelore]

The Other Side

For three years Kagome waited for a sign. Then one day, out of the blue, someone came.

From the fic Feathers in the Wind on Ao3. For more updates, follow the feathers in the wind tag on this blog. 

Kagome slowly opened her eyes as she heard the lilting tune of a gentle hum. Like the buzz of a cicadas’ cry or a cricket’s chirping, it hardly seemed out of place. Her eyes closed. She only wanted to remain a dream for awhile longer, lost in the darkness of the dormant well’s bottom, recalling every moment of the past.

The humming grew louder, and for a moment, Kagome thought to ask whomever was doing so to leave her be. Her family respected her wishes when she descended into the wellhouse and only came to retrieve her by morning. With a start, Kagome jerked upright and fumbled in her pockets as her heels knocked against the earthen walls. A hiss of pain interrupting the melodious sounds from above, pins and needles ricocheting from her heel to knee. The light of her phone screen was nearly blinding but she squinted past the watery sting and paled.

“I’m going to miss schooll!” Kagome yelled at the top of her lungs, shoving her phone away after nearly dropping it in her mad scramble to climb the well’s side via the rope she’d kept tethered to the post by its base. “How did I sleep past noon?! Mama! Grandpa! So—”

As she pulled herself over the wooden railing, a gentle voice barely above a whisper, yet loud within the well house’s quiet addressed her.

“Well actually, it’s a Saturday, so you didn’t miss class.”

Kagome blinked slowly, one leg thrown over the well’s side while the other dangled. She could imagine what she looked like. Hair a mess, clothes rumpled from being curled up in one position for far too long, and bug-eyed at the sight of the young woman across from her. A dark mane of black hair sweeping over curved shoulders in waves, shining with particles of light drifting from the slats in the well house’s door. Deep brown eyes, gleaming with amusement, matching a pleasant smile. If Kikyō’s presence had been suffocating, then the weight of hers was the full brunt of the sun unfettered and searing, yet this close it felt like a radiating warmth like a fire on a chilly winter’s night.

“Also, you probably needed that sleep,” the woman continued, inclining her head as she rocked backward. A ripple in her hair causing the orange and green beads woven into a braid to clack together with the whistle of chimes. “Though, that doesn’t seem like a very comfortable place to sleep.”

She peered back into the well,  a thoughtful hum buzzing up her throat, and at the aversion of her eyes Kagome realized she’d been staring at her all the while.

“Um…” Kagome trailed off, flicking her gaze from one corner of the well house to the other, almost expecting someone to attack. Nothing came. Only shelves with her grandfather’s faulty goods, her own bow and arrow gathering dust in the corner, the well itself, and them.

The woman seemed to sense her curiosity and tension, looking to her with a mixture of worry and genuine concern.  “Are you still asleep?” She asked, and though the words were simple, the look in her eyes seemed to speak to something else. “Need any help getting out?”

Kagome realized, this woman must have been waiting for her to wake up. But for how long, and why? Distrust simmered in her stomach but she was careful not to show it. “No, I’ve got it…” She replied, swinging her leg over the well’s side and shuffling backward with a slight frown, careful not to trip over the rope’s post or the well house steps. Her back kept to the light and the woman in sight.

As if realizing something was amiss, the woman gasped and clapped her hands together, the wooden-beaded bracelet on her left wrist shifted as her sleeves fell back. “Oh! I actually came to see you, but you weren’t in your room,” she said. “Your mother said I’d be able to find you here.”

Her mother? Kagome narrowed her eyes as she stared at the woman’s aura. It was so pink. She could hardly draw any negative energy from her or malcontent. Yet, there was this feeling of nostalgia. If the woman minded her silence, she didn’t say, kicking her bare feet against the dusty floor.  A pair of sandals set next to her swinging feet, seeming fairly untouched. Did she even wear them when she entered?

Kagome frowned faintly. She was groggy, on-edge, and desperately wanted a shower. Even more so, it felt like all the hints she was dropping were curving over this woman’s head like a deflected arrow. With a deep sigh, Kagome steeled herself. “Um… who… are you?”

For the first time since their eyes met, the woman’s smile dissipated. Her deep brown eyes widened and she actually seemed at a loss, touching a finger to the underside of her chin. “Oh no,” she muttered forlornly, then her eyes softened. “Well… it has been a few years…”

She seemed to be mumbling more to herself than Kagome. Something that Kagome detested greatly when it felt as if someone was talking around her rather than to her. Yet, the woman’s eyes twinkled with sadness and shuttered.

“I’ve never been good with hellos,” the woman sighed, resting her hands in her lap, as she teetered dangerously backward almost close to falling into the well herself. “Or see you agains, I suppose. And we weren’t exactly close when you left.”

Kagome’s eyes narrowed as she whispered. “Left?”

As if she said nothing, the woman continued muttering as she felt about the flowing white of her long-sleeved shirt. “Let’s see… what would you remember?” Her freckled shoulders exposed and Kagome could have sworn she’d seen the beginnings of a tattoo along her back when the woman turned to one side, pulling something free from the pockets of her skirts.

“Ah, I got it!”

A familiar chime of rattling beads stammered Kagome’s heartbeat as the woman held out a necklace, painfully familiar to her as their owner. These beads, fashioned into a rosary, were ones she held and seen time and time again but on the neck of someone who was not her.

“Inuyasha’s… necklace…” Kagome whispered, reaching out unconsciously, her heart skipping a bit as a fury rose. “Why do you have that?”

Inuyasha would never have given it willingly. Even in his human form, he’d never attempted to take them off. It was selfish of her, she knew, but in a way it was a connection she had to him. A part of them that’d been since the beginning. For her to have it could only have meant —

Out the corner of her eye, Kagome glimpsed her bow and arrow and though she took to practice often for familiarity and habit, she had little trouble taking to arms.

The woman seemed to sense her agitation as she gazed squarely at her, pooling the beads into her hand. “He said you wouldn’t believe who I was unless I had proof.” She stared down at her hand and Kagome did as well, wanting desperately to snatch the necklace. Whether it was rude or not didn’t matter. “Which to be fair, you would be right not to after what happened before.”

Kagome clenched her fist and she almost wanted to shout at her to tell her already. What was she doing here? Why did she talk as if she knew her — knew them — knew him? In the years she’d been gone, waiting and watching for a glimmer of hope to return, did something happen? Her gaze flicked over the woman’s form from her hair to her eyes, the patient smile on her lips, her white shoulder less shirt with its long sleeves, orange skirt embroidered with tiny green circles, nearly sweeping the well house floor, though its front seemed to barely brush past her knees.

But those circles, that pattern…

“So! If I have this then that must mean…”

“I’ve seen this pattern before…” Kagome interjected, stifling the woman’s musings with a breathy tone. “On… the little girl that… traveled with Sesshomaru…”

The woman blinked at her slowly, their eyes meeting, and she smiled. “I told Inuyasha you’d get it on your own, but of course, he just doesn’t listen,” she said, shaking her head then rocking up to her feet in one flourish, presenting the necklace to Kagome looped on the tips of her fingers. “It’s been awhile, Kagome.”

It was impossible. Out of everyone she expected to come for her — to see her — she was the last.

“Rin?!”

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #268

“i got a switchblade wit that cuts like a bitch, and i think you two should meet.”

What was the shortest amount of time you’ve known someone before you’ve dated them? If you’ve never been in a relationship before, do you watch Scrubs? Jason and I knew each other like... I think two or three weeks? We clicked so fast. Are you a fan of inside jokes or do you tend to stay away from them? I... don't feel a particular way? Do you have any theatrical experience? If so, what have you done? No, I'm not into theater. Which movies currently out in theaters do you want to see? I don't know what's in theaters right now, but I don't think anyone does rn lol. Don’t you hate it when people talk about their relationships constantly? If it's seriously incessantly, yes. There's not a lot you can say to have a conversation when they just ramble about the person, especially when you don't even know the partner. How close would you say you are to your relatives? Not very. What’s your favorite Pokemon? Ninetales. If you could have anyone to do your eulogy, who would it be and why? Well, I'd assume my parents will be dead by that point, so. Probably my best friend. If you play the Sims games, which one is your favorite? I've only ever played Sims Animals, which I looooved back in the past. I haven't played it in years, though. If your parents searched your room, would they be mad at what they’d find? No. Ever taken a picture kissing somebody? Yes. Sex in the morning, afternoon or night? Morning is a great start to the day, but only after your teeth are brushed. I cannooooot do morning breath. Do you want someone aggressive or passive in bed? Aggressive. I am such a sub lmao. How serious are your feelings for the person you like? I DON'T KNOWWWWWWWWWW Ever had your driver's license suspended? Don't have mine to begin with. Does the person you like know that you like them? Yes. How frequently are you inclined to read, and how much? Somewhat rarely lately, less than I did some months back. I would read some pretty big chunks. When was the last time you questioned the direction your life was taking? LMAOOOOOOOOO I'm not exaggerating at all when I say that's like, a daily occurrence. What small things have the ability to get under your skin? I'm trying to think of something I haven't said before, but I'm not sure. OH, it may seem like a small thing, but letting balloons go outside. It's littering. Many end up in the ocean. What is something small that has the ability to cure a bad mood? A car ride riding shotgun with music blaring. I fucking love it. What was the last big change through which you went? Some moral beliefs altered. ^ Do you deal well with change, typically? Have you always? Fuck no. It blows up my anxiety. How do you feel after spending a great quantity of time online? I used to feel kinda guilty, and I actually still do, but it's more subdued. It's just too normal by now, to the point when I'm bored, I sometimes briefly forget there are other things to do that aren't on the computer. God it's sad. What do you consider to be the biggest drawback to being you? I'M BIG SCARED OF EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!! What do you consider the best part of being who you are? I'm really understanding and can relate to people's pain well. What kinds of things do you have on display in your room? Christ, a lot. My room is STUFFED with decorations that make me happy.  There's posters, some artwork, all my Silent Hill game cases or manuals + more SH stuff, meerkats galore, Venus is in here, I have this "shrine" for Teddy... I've got a load of stuff. What do you think your room and its contents say about you, if anything? I love a lotta stuff, ig. Animals, music, dark stuff, games. When was the last time you felt insecure about something/some situation? UMMMMM I should have a question for this fucking immediately. I'm sure it was something when I was at Ashley's inlaws for Mother's Day. What is something about which you are very confident or self-assured? My knowledge of meerkats lmaooo. Which emotional sensation inconveniences or bothers you the most? FUCKIN ANXIETY. Do you ever find it awkward to compliment another being? No, I love love love giving compliments!! When was the last time you had a new experience? What was it? Hm. I guess nightmares where I literally flail and attack shit while shrieking. Do you dress more for yourself, or to the expectations of others? I dress entirely for myself. What is one way you cope when you feel like crap? Binge music I can relate to. Which can make it worse, but sometimes helps. I'll usually get to the point of being teary and cry a bit, but then I start feeling better. Name an insult you regularly receive, if there is one? I guess it's not really an... insult, per se, but I hear "you're too quiet!" all the time. What is something you used to believe about life that you no longer do? Everything happens for a reason. Nope. What is something you hope you never have to do again? Deal with another Jason-level heartbreak. Of the many different American accents, which one is your favorite? I'm actually not sure. Not a fan of any that I can think of. Do you know anyone who had a kid before they were financially stable? Oh yeah, plenty normal nowadays. Is there anything hanging from the doorknob in your room? Yes, the pink bead necklace from my sister's baby shower for Emerson. Sometimes I hang my purse there too. Why did you move to where you're living now? We got evicted for not being able to keep up with rent and needed a cheap but semi-decent place to live. What was the most severe punishment your parents gave you when you were growing up? I remember I was grounded from the computer for at least a week, maybe more. My punishment was always taking technology away and/or spanked or popped on the arm. I remember she once hit my arm so damn hard that I had her handprint there for a while. My mom was horrible at *keeping* me and my sisters grounded, though; she'd normally calm down within a few days and things would return to normal. What was the topic of conversation the last time you spoke to a sibling? Ummm I don't remember. I should, I saw one just a couple days ago. Are you currently looking for a new job? I don't have a job currently, but while Mom has cancer and surgery coming up, I'm not really looking, but pondering opportunities. She'd have to drive me, which just can't be done right now, and I'm also not comfortable leaving her home alone right now. Who is the person you are the closest to? (emotionally, not physically) Mom. What was the last caffeinated drink you had? Do you drink this often? Strawberry Sunkist, and ugh, too much lately. Whose photo did you last look at? I was on Facebook a bit ago, so someone's on there. Who was the last person to pick you up? You mean like, physically? I don't know, probably Girt because he got a kick out of our height difference and he would do that when we hugged. What are you wearing around your neck? Nothing right now. Have you accidentally mistaken a stranger for someone you know? Oh my god, yes. I did that at the tattoo parlor once at a guy that looked like my sister's ex, who I got along with well. He looked at me like "uhhhhh" and it will haunt me forever. Who did you last blow a kiss at? Venus. I do that and wave a lot when she comes out of her hide and looks my way. Have you ever seen lava in real life? No. Who did you last bite? Um I don't just casually go around biting people lmao. Probably Jason. Do you remember the date of your prom? Ha, it's honestly surprising to me that I don't recall the date of either, considering how I remember, y'know, a weird amount of obscure details through our entire time knowing each other. Was your last kiss long and sensual or short and sweet? Why’s that? Short and sweet, because it was just a goodbye kiss. When kissing, do you like to be on top or bottom? Good Lord, am I a bottom. I hated being on top because I felt he had a better view of me and my body, and I was self-conscious as shit even when I was fit. Does your boyfriend/husband know what size your boobs are? UHHHHHHHHHHHHH I don't have a boyfriend but I've sure never actually talked about it with any. Do you have hair extensions or do you think those are strictly for the scene kids? ..... No? I don't wear extensions, never have, but wearing them doesn't tie you to a label??? List all the things you have from your boyfriend at your house right now? Not everyone has a boyfriend, friend. Last time you exercised and for how long? I DON'T WANT TO THINK OF THIS lkja;dslkfjwe Last girl who called you hot/sexy/something else of the sort? I shared a picture of myself on Facebook for once just the other day, so let's so. *checks* HAHA MY MOM. #1 cheerleader, friends. OH I should probably clarify she said "gorgeous," but I guess that counts? Was she hitting on you? Jfc no. Last guy who called you hot/sexy/something else of the sort? Does getting a comment from Ian of a Spongebob screenshot of Squidward with heart eyes count? lol Was HE hitting on you? *shrugs* He's very open with sharing love for his friends though, so it very well could've been just friendly support. Have you ever taken the 5,000 question survey? Parts of it, and God did it get stupid. What would you do if your boyfriend/husband got drafted into war tomorrow? I. Am single. And not everyone. Is interested in guys. But hypothetically, I would fucking panic. I physically wouldn't be able to handle an s/o in the army; I would constantly, absolutely constantly, be actively fearful. We'd have to find a way to get him out of it. Has a guy ever touched your butt without permission? If so, how did this make you feel? I don't believe so, thank God. How many formal dresses do you own? Sun-dresses? I have two prom dresses (which I'm finally comfortable enough to get rid of at some point) and I think like... one or two other black knee-length dresses that I could now never fit into? What do you hope you grow out of? Social anxiety. It ruins many parts of my life. What is the healthiest and unhealthiest thing you do on a regular basis? Healthy? Oh fuck. I, uh, usually have one bottle of water, I guess? Unhealthy, definitely drink soda. I need to stop. When looking for a SO, what three things are most important (besides looks)? Kindness, patience, and compassion or understanding. How much do you judge a person by their appearance? Define "judge" here. Like, I can conclude someone is impoverished or well off in many cases, but I don't judge them as people. What is the most embarrassing thing you own? Hm. I'm unsure. What is the strangest habit you have? I don't think I have odd habits. What movie made you cry the most? The Notebook or Old Yeller, I think. What was one of the happiest moments of your childhood? Realizing I was getting a dog for Christmas. Fuck, I miss Teddy. What belief do you have that most people disagree with? I'd rather not get political right now. Who or what inspires you to be a better person? I fucking hate admitting it, but Jason. The last thing he told me was to stop saying "I'll try" but rather "I will," and I actually recently almost had a breakdown about it because I shouldn't put SO much value into what he says, make it holy "rules." I treat him like a god in so many ways. Still, in my stupid head, his word is law. I still want to make him so proud. What’s the TLDR description of your last relationship? Long-distance was getting extremely hard, but I think the bigger factor was that we both have problems we need to work on before we can properly support one another. If you found out your current life has been just a dream, would you choose to wake up? (You don’t know if your real life would be better or worse.) I guess... no. I'd be too afraid of it being any worse than it already feels. What dumb thing did you believe for a really long time? Political and religious beliefs I don't at all like admitting I had. Where would you like to retire? Hell if I know, that's a long whiles away. What brings you the most joy in life? Oh yikes. Family and close friends, probs. What was the last song that got stuck in your head? "Blush" by Jeffree Star is on repeat ahhhh What is something you enjoy doing, but aren’t good at? Drawing people. I don't really do it BECAUSE I'm not very good. In art in general, I have a hard time with proportions. Name some healthy foods that you enjoy eating. Strawberries, apples, a lotta other fruits, broccoli, there are these granola and cashew bars I LOVE, salad can be good, scrambled eggs... now I'm blanking. Like there are a lot of foods that can be on either end of the spectrum, depending on how they're prepared. Do you ever eat dry cereal as a snack to munch on? Any particular kind? No, generally too crunchy and dry. When you run out of something to drink & are thirsty, are you quick to retrieve a new beverage or are you lazy about it? It depends on how thirsty I am and what I'm doing at that moment. What is your favorite part of a slice of pizza? BITCH all of that motherfucker. What was the longest power outage you ever experienced? Two or so days. I was so, so scared for Venus because it was in the winter. Poor girl was scared. I had to let her inside my hoodie and shirt to use my warmth for a lengthy period at a time, there were blankets draped over her terrarium... I was genuinely afraid she was going to die. But nope, my baby is good and thriving. :'D Do you believe that children should do all of the chores around the house, or do you think the parents should do them? Or do you have an entirely different opinion? As someone who was raised with chores poorly enforced and now I suck at doing them, they should ABSOLUTELY be a required thing. Children shouldn't do *all* the chores though, of course, especially those involving serious chemicals. Have you ever painted a pet’s nails, or known someone that has done such? Do you think that is cruel? I haven't, but I suppose it depends on whether it's toxic or not and if the animal doesn't mind? I do know people who have. What is something you did as a child that you didn’t realize back then was “wrong”, if anything? I didn't know interracial relationships were perfectly fine. It's funny, I don't recall me seeing black as any less than whites, I just thought it wasn't supposed to happen. Being raised in the South does that, ig. Do you get an excessive amount of bug bites during spring/summertime? Are you one to itch constantly or can you control yourself? No, I've heard because I have A-type blood. Whenever my sister (O-type) and I used to play outside, she would always come in COVERED in mosquito bites, and she's still a magnet for them today. Supposedly bugs don't prefer A, but O the most. I do itch, though. Holy shit, do I itch. Do you own any sports equipment [balls, basketball goals, mitts, etc] that you rarely use? No. Could you ever willingly hunt down & shoot an innocent animal for sport? Over my dead fucking body. Would you be uncomfortable changing someone else’s baby’s diaper? Ugh, I have twice I believe, and I hated it. Have/would you ever want to own a pet frog, or do you think they would be too boring? I don't think I've ever caught and kept one? I don't mind "boring" pets, I just don't desire one. What internet/television provider do you use? Fucking CenturyLink. Stay away from it. Are you uncomfortable going out in public with leg stubble? Even if it’s so light that no one would notice it unless they were looking for it? That much, no. Now I literally haven't shaved my legs in over a whole year because it's not like anyone sees them, but holy fuck would I be mortified if someone did lol. Have you ever lived in a mobile home? No. I'm terrified to because of tornados. Have you ever had your bedroom in a basement? No. What’s your favorite piece of furniture in your house? ...? If someone gave you a kitten, would you keep it? I'd want to, but it'd be Mom's decision. Favorite type of cracker: Cheez-Its. Animal you like to watch but sort of creeps you out: Spiders, especially when they're making their webs.

[wildroseofarran]

Barnacles || Tristan, Oliver, & Ronan

Oliver: The day was hotter than he'd ever felt before from Edenton. Sweltering, nasty heat like he'd felt on his deployments.

Oliver felt in the cooler for something to drink. How were they out of everything? He could swear he could see the water evaporating from the goddamn ocean.

Off came his tattered gray shirt, tucked into his jeans.

"At this point I fuckin' pray for another hurricane," he called to Tristan.

Tristan: "Bite your tongue, Cole," Tristan called back. He too was shirtless, hair piled into a messy bun and sweat pouring down his forehead. "Unless you wanna put in another few days of ship maintenance."

Oliver: "So long as this thing don't have a breakdown. I'll get under the boat right fuckin' now if it got me a drink."

Tristan: He poked his head around the corner. "That a serious offer? Feel like scraping barnacles?"

Oliver: "Get me some fuckin' cold drinks n'I'll dive right now."

Tristan: "Is there any more ice in the freezer? There's a case of water in the cabin but it's at room temp. Probably hot as fuck just like everything else."

Oliver: "S'more like a slushie at this point. Toss it in the cooler n'I'll get started."

Tristan: "Done. Grab the goggles and tool belt."

Hell, maybe he'd join him, he thought as he went into the sweltering cabin to get the water.

Oliver: Back to following orders, tossing his shirt into the cabin, along with his necklace he'd forgotten to remove. He didn't need a tan line of a cross on his chest.

"Hear 'bout that tropical storm brewin'?"

Tristan: "Yeah. If it turns into another full-blown hurricane I'm gonna lose my goddamn mind. I tell you my dock at home took a beating? Gonna have to take a weekend to fix it."

Oliver: "I'll help with that, man."

Ronan: Tristan would feel his phone buzz. It would be a message from Ronan, a picture of him and the stranger from far away.

{Text} Send me $1m or I'll kill ur daughter. I have her hidden away & I've got eyes on u RIGHT NOW

Tristan: "Seriously? Thanks. I'll pay you in beer and margaritas. And actual money."

He felt in his pocket for his phone, squinting at it for a moment before laughing.

{Text to Ronan} Are you creeping on me over there?

Oliver: "Ya had me at beer." The laughter had him turning, body beginning to bead with sweat. The house tattoo on his arm was given the illusion of being rained on with his perspiration. He wiped his mouth and pointed.

"Someone ya know?"

Ronan: {Text} Bitch I might be. Whos the guy???! U have other friends??? disappointed

Tristan: "Yep, sure is. That's my friend Ronan."

{Text} The guy is Oliver, he works with me

{Text} Take a break from creeping and come meet him

Oliver: "Now that's a name." Over the side of the deck he went.

"Can he help with the barnacles?"

Ronan: {Text} I dunno. Whwt do i get in return?

Tristan: “Is he physically capable? Yes. Will he? Highly doubtful.”

{Text} My company and everlasting platonic love

{Text} Also pizza later

Oliver: "Great. What's he, a Northerner?"

Ronan: {Text} u had me at pizza.

He'll be over shortly, eyeing up the stranger the closer he got.

Tristan: “Irishman. One who’s not all that crazy about manual labor.”

{Text} Deal. Be polite, okay?

Tristan put his phone away and waved as Ronan approached. “Hey, renaissance man.”

Oliver: "Renaissance man? That your official title?" Oliver called.

Ronan: "Actually my full title is Renaissance Man De La Miguel Rodriguez the Third."

Ronan: He hadn't seen that last message, so he doesn't have to be polite. That's the law.

Tristan: Tristan chuckled and shook his head. “It’s his nickname. Ro, this is Oliver, my first mate. Oliver, this is my friend Ronan.”

Oliver: A stained rough hand was brought out for Ronan to take.

"Sup, man?"

Ronan: Gross. He smacked Oliver's palm with his own by way of greeting. "Hey. What's goin' on?"

Oliver: Uh, the fuck? His gaze remained steady despite his desire to glance at his captain.

"Anyway. Gonna start scrubbin'."

Ronan: Ronan finally looked at Oliver's face properly, having to drag his eyes away from those gross hands. He smirked. Where has Tristan been hiding this fucker?

"Or you guys stop workin' for the day an' we go out for some drinks?"

Oliver: "M'at the whim of my captain, but also wherever the beer flows."

Tristan: “The beer can flow after we scrape those barnacles.” Tristan gave Ronan a look. “No distracting my crew, you.” My straight crew.

Ronan: Ronan gave Tristan a wink. Suuuuuuuuuure thing, Captain.

"Stop bein' such a killjoy, your little boat will still be here tomorrow."

Oliver: "Could help n'get it over with? I'll buy ya two rounds of your favorite drink."

Tristan: Tristan grinned at the suggestion. Ronan doing physical labor was a delightful thought.

Ronan: "My clothes are worth a bit too much t'start... what did you say? Fuckin' scrubbin'?" Yeah, no.

Oliver: "Yeah. Ya take those off." He gestured between himself and Tristan, very much shirtless and sun baked.

Tristan: “And if you’re particularly attached to your pants, you can take those off, too. We won’t judge your choice in underwear.”

Ronan: Why is Tristan gesturing like Ronan hadn't very much noticed........ He may need to make a point of walking this way every day from now on.... What time do you start work, guys? Which days? Asking for a friend.

"I've got silk underwear on, so I'd have t'take those off too."

Oliver: Oliver's smile returned with a mischievous show of teeth.

"Tris, ya still got a scuba suit in the cabin?"

Tristan: Tristan grinned back. “Ya know, as a matter of fact I do. Goggles and everything.”

Ronan: Ugh fuck. "How 'bout I jus' support you, like, emotionally?"

Oliver: "Gonna miss out on free shots."

Tristan: He chuckled. "Go on then. You can heckle us while we scrape."

Ronan: "Heckle?" Hm... but the free rounds... "What would I have t'do if I helped?"

Oliver: "Ya take this here - or this brush - n'ya remove the shit on the sides of the boat." He'd deal with the bottom.

Tristan: Tristan was riding the same train of thought. "Just the sides, don't worry about the bottom. We'll take care of that. If you decide to help, that is.'

Ronan: He inspected the boat from where he was stood.

"Gimme your pants." He gestured to Tristan.

Tristan: "You wanna wear my pants instead of the scuba suit?"

Ronan: "It's gonna be fuckin' tight an' shit."

Tristan: "Have you ever been in a scuba suit? It's designed to be mobile and comfortable in the water. Especially this one since it's me sized and not you sized."

Ronan: "An' clingy. You tryna catch a glimpse of my cock size?" the question was directed at both Tristan and Oliver. "Jus' gimme your pants. You can wear the suit."

Oliver: Gayyyy. "They won't fit ya anyway. You're already fuckin' wearin' pants." And he was removing his own in favor of the new black, red, and blue board shorts in the cabin. The door creaked halfway shut behind him. If Ronan was determined, he would catch a glimpse of perfect swimmer's tan, accentuating the pale firm muscle of his ass.

Tristan: “It can’t cling if it’s too big for you,” he chuckled. “Also, it’s not silk. Silk clings. And Oliver’s right, my pants are too big for you, but if you insist. Just tighten my belt all the way.”

Ronan: "Yeah but mine are fuckin' clean an' nice. This is what clothes are meant t'look like. Must be a shock." Ronan would glance but nothing else... even if the image would linger with him for a moment after looking away.

"Uh huh. You're so lucky I'm even doin' this for you, you likkle prick."

Tristan: "Aww, you cut me to the quick." He grinned and kissed Ronan's cheek. "Yes, I'm very lucky. Thank you."

Tristan proceeded to strip out of his jeans. Unlike Oliver, he already had his trunks on underneath as he'd been vaguely planning to tackle the barnacles before the ungodly heat forced his hand. "Here you go. I need to get my tank on."

Ronan: Ronan was clearly very proud of himself! He smiled to prove it. The kiss helped.

"Don't start fallin' in love with me, 'kay?" He takes the jeans. Yeah. Pretty huge. He'll need to swap one pair for another... where... should he change...

Oliver: Oliver widened the door to the cabin and stretched. It seemed his favorite boss caved.

"So how pale are ya, Irish? I wanna see veins. Ya better bring honor t'Ireland," he smirked.

Tristan: "I'll try my best," Tristan chuckled, gathering his goggles and scuba tank from a storage compartment.

Ronan: Hm. He steps towards the cabin, putting a hand on Oliver's chest in order to guide him out of the way.

"I grew up in Italy an' have been around America for years. I'm tan, thanks."

Oliver: Touchy feely. Not new by any means, and not a surprise. What little he knew of the man, the touch was accepted.

"Italy, huh? Ya like the Mediterranean?"

Ronan: "Nah, fish kinda freak me out. Why the fuck do they move like that? Eugh, yikes." He stepped into the cabin to start changing. He'll have to message Matheus and let him know, too. Ronan'll also send a picture of his shirt folded up neatly and ask if he's proud.

Oliver: {Text via Matheus} Very tight fold. You've learned well.

Tristan was given a smile, humored by this random piece of information. A phobia, maybe?

"What about, ha, octopus? That do anything to ya?"

Tristan: Tristan was laughing as he strapped his tank on.

"He'd have told me, wouldn't you, Ronan? He would've freaked out every time he saw the one tatted on my arm. Speaking of, think I'll get another. Maybe a giant squid on my leg somewhere. Or a Kraken."

Ronan: "You should let Conor do it. You won't find any tattoo artist with as much experience as him." He smirked. It was a joke only he and Tristan would get.

He emerged changed, shirtless, and with the belt keeping Tristan's trousers up. "I'm fine with them. They don't move like-" he gestured the wishy-washy movement with a hand.

Oliver: The thirst which had nearly suffocated him had been quenched. Quietly, he got to work, tethered to the boat with rope and carabineer.

"I shoulda been in the Navy," he muttered, disappearing behind the port side with a wink.

Tristan: Tristan hummed thoughtfully. He actually hadn't thought of that. "Maybe I'll pop by his place and ask him," he said, smiling at Ronan. "See what he'll charge me."

He grabbed some gloves and a scraper for Ronan. "That's seriously the only thing that freaks you out about fish? The way they swim?"

Ronan: "I'll get him t'do it t'you for fre- actually you're makin' him do this, so I'm gonna tell him t'charge you double." the gloves and scraper were snatched. He put the gloves on far from gracefully. "They look weird an' move weird. An' they're wet ALL the time, or they die. It's fuckin' weird. Weird!"

Tristan: “You will not be present during price negotiations,” he chuckled. “Don’t worry, I pay well. Just ask Oliver.”

He laughed again. “Ain’t their fault. They’re just trying to live their lives. All right, into the water, Renaissance man.”

Ronan: "... Are there fishes around here?" He shuddered. "Talkin' about 'em freaked me out..."

Oliver: "Get in the fuckin' water!" came from the other side of the boat.

Tristan: "Nah, not in this area. The noise and activity from the ships scares them away. Come on. Oliver will show you how to do it."

Tristan adjusted his oxygen and his goggles and lowered himself into the water. A few moments later he disappeared beneath the hull.

Ronan: "Fuck you!" He casually called back. He watched Tristan disappear into the water and... shuddered. "Ugh. Gives me the heebie-jeebies."

Oliver: "You'll be fuckin' fine! C'mere n'start scrapin' with me."

Ronan: "You come HERE!" grumpy grumpy.

Oliver: A head peeked from the edge a moment later. "What d'ya want, an audience?"

Ronan: No, he just wanted to be a brat.

"You're on thin fuckin' ice."

Oliver: "That was easy," he smirked.

Ronan: "What was?"

Oliver: "Gettin' on thin fuckin' ice." Beads of sweat and ocean were wiped from his brow. "If ya can't swim just say so."

Ronan: He scoffed. "Can't an' won't are different."

Oliver: "The result's the same." He held out his hand. "Come on. I'll help ya down."

Ronan: He squinted at the hand. "I thought you weren't a pansy."

Oliver: "Says the man afraid of fish."

Ronan: "What's that got t'do with bein' a pansy?"

Oliver: "You're a fuckin' pussy."

Ronan: "People wanna fuck me? True."

Oliver: "People wanna fuck you?"

Ronan: "Yeah. Like a pussy." Is there a fish somewhere he can throw at this fucker?

Oliver: "You're alright with that?"

Ronan: "Are YOU?"

Oliver: "I ain't into all that gay stuff. N'I ain't wantin' a conversation. Just get in."

Ronan: He gave the other a dirty look.

"You sound like-" me not that long ago. "Make me, nigga!"

Oliver: "If you were any less black you'd be clear." A splash followed his disappearance from view.

Ronan: Eyes rolled. Yeah. He's not gonna help. He'll find a place to sit and smoke some weed instead.

Tristan: It was a few minutes before Tristan's head popped out of the water again.

He looked around. "Ro?"

Ronan: "Mm? Your friend's a piece of shit. Wanna smoke?"

Tristan: "Ro, you're supposed to be helping!"

Oliver: "He's just gonna keep tellin' me why people wanna fuck him."

Ronan: "Go back t'your fish friends!"

Tristan: "Jesus Christ. Ro, if you weren't gonna get in why take my pants?"

Ronan: "I was gonna get in 'til he annoyed me, now I don't wanna help him."

Tristan: "You're not helping him, you're helping me."

Ronan: "Ughhhh why you gotta pull that shit?"

Tristan: Tristan flashed his best smile. “Is it working?”

Ronan: "Bitch it might be." He threw his joint into the water and below and shuddered. He hadn't even smoked enough to calm his nerves yet, but apparently here he goes... "How do I get in?"

Tristan: He laughed. "Nice to know I still have my charm. There's a ladder on the side there. I'll catch you if you need."

Ronan: "Uhhhh huh." he just had to... uh... do some stretches first...

Tristan: Tristan swam over to the ladder and offered up a hand to Ronan. "C'mere, renaissance man. I've gotcha."

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Mechanical Dragon (Part 8)

She poses the idea to her father. “Do you think that you can do it?”

 “Do ya think that she’s gonna let me?” He is still weary from the event days prior.

 She knows that he is more than capable of accomplishing executing the blueprints she spent the night creating. She just has to get Azula to cooperate. The princess is still sleeping, sleeping and running a very high fever. “She will.” Zirin answers as she mixes up another fever remedy. “It shouldn’t be painful, just uncomfertable. I think she only reacts bad if you go ‘n hurt her.” In a way that was how Azula had always been, she just doesn’t hide it anymore.

 Okon doesn’t give her a definitive yes or no. But she leaves the room anyhow—purposely neglecting to take the blueprints with her. She knows that when she comes back down that the blueprints will no longer be on the table and her father will have arranged the necessary devices.

 Zirin sits the groggy princess up and tips the glass. Azula seems to go slack and falls against her. Zirin doesn’t move her. Instead she waits for the princess to move herself. She doesn’t do that for a very long while.  Eventually Zirin decides that it is time to bathe the princess. Simply scrubbing the infected area is no longer cutting it. She leads Azula to the bathroom, fills the basin, and leaves to retrieve a bar of soap and some shampoo. Shampoo, she gnaws on the inside of her cheek before placing it back on the shelf. She finds Azula already sitting in the water when she gets back. Her legs are drawn up to her chest as she shivers against the chill of the water and she looks miserable. Zirin thinks that she is going out of her way to not look at the fresh scars splayed all over her body.

 “Do you want me to…” Zirin motions to the bar of soap.

 Azula holds out her hand and Zirin takes that as a no. It doesn’t matter, it is probably good for the princess to do things on her own again anyways. Personal hygiene and upkeep had always been a priority to and a high point for her.

 She watches the woman run the soap carefully over her arms.

She feels weird watching.

She doesn’t know why.

 She has seen Azula without clothing before. Many times in fact. Most times, Azula had been the one to initiate it. But that seems so far off. She wonders if there’s anything left of that. Azula herself is very different…

Very subdued.

 But she doesn’t shoo Zirin away so, she remains. Her deep brown eyes linger on Azula, she hopes that she isn’t making her uncomfortable or self-conscious, not that she’s even seen the princess doubt herself before.

 It is only when Azula stands, water running off of her in rivulets, that Zirin remembers that she had forgotten the towels and a change of clothes. The princess stares expectantly. She tries not to keep her waiting for too long. Mostly Azula dries herself, but then she hands Zirin the towels and turns around. It takes Zirin a moment to realize that Azula is weary of drying her back with such new wounds to watch for. So Zirin gently runs the towel over her back and—with more care—dabs at the areas closer to where the wings had once been. She notes to herself how pale the princess’ completion is, save for her blotchy, fever-flushed cheeks.

 Zirin decides that she will take Azula into the garden. She could use the sunlight and she could use some fresher air. It is strange, Zirin notes, that before now, she has never seen Azula in her clothing before. Usually she stuck to her own attire, likely because it was more elaborate and made from pricier materials. Regardless of the simplicity, Zirin thought that the change suited her well.  It is also good to see her on her feet again as opposed to being confined to a bed. “Azula and I are goin’ ou’side for a bit.” She calls to Okon.

 He is in his work room, she notes with a smile.

And the blueprints are no longer on the table.                                                         

Zirin wonders if she should run the idea by Azula first, she gets a sense that the princess wouldn’t care what happened to her at this point as long as it didn’t cause her any more pain. “Are you feeling any better?” She asks once they are situated in the garden amid a host of fragrant flowers. Mint takes precedence over all other scents.

 Azula pucks a firelily and twirls it absently between her fingers.

 “At least a little?” Zirin tries again.

 She thinks that she notices Azula nod affirmatively. The firebender tosses the lily aside and begins running her hands through the grass, Zirin sees the longer blades sprouting up from the cracks between her fingers. She assumes that Azula is pleased to see lush nature again. To have the sun on her skin again. To feel a warm breeze once more. But she still can’t seem to bring herself to smile, Zirin wishes that she would. Her smile is nice. She touches the back of her hand to Azula’s cheek, it is hot, too much so. Azula’s hand comes around her wrist and for a moment she thinks that the woman remembers the more tender times, that’s why she smiles. Only seconds later though, she finds that Azula simply did so, to move Zirin’s hand away from her.

Zirin doesn’t understand. “What did I do wrong?” She finally asks. “I found you! saved you!” She doesn’t mean to be harsh, but her impatience is taking its toll. “Again!” She adds, “I saved you again…” Her temper dies down and she trails off. She didn’t even realize that she had stood up so she sits back down. Azula watched the display stoically, it both aggravates and relieves Zirin. She rubs her forehead. “I jus’ don’t get you sometimes.” She thinks, not for the first time, that whatever happened to her in that dank cellar had frayed Azula’s already questionably stable mind beyond repair.

 Without warning, Azula stands. She is wandering and Zirin knows that she should stop her. But all the same she kind of wants to let Azula explore, at least that way she has something to do. At least it would give her some sense of control. So she lets the princess lead the way. Mostly they wander through fields, the same ones where Zirin is sometimes sent to collect herbs that aren’t found in her own garden. Eventually though, Azula finds the nearby village. “A’rite, I think that’s enough walkin’ for today, we should head back, yeah?”

 Apparently, no. Azula draws nearer to the village. She hesitates, Zirin wonders if Azula really wants to encounter other people—she hopes that the princess will shy away. But she does not. Then again, Zirin thinks that maybe seeing other people would do her as good as a little sunlight. She had been so isolated for so long…

“A’rite, fine, we can go into town.” Zirin mutters as if it had ever been her choice to make.

 She watches Azula pick up trinkets and beaded necklaces from random stalls, just to look at them and set them down again, much to the annoyance of the vendors who were hoping to earn at least a coin or two.

Faintly she wonders if any of them recognize their princess.

 She passes various food stands, pausing to graze her fingers over a large peach. It only costs a coin, so Zirin buys it for her. No doubt, Azula could pay her back if need be—not that she plans on getting pushy over one coin.

Azula chews on the peach as they wander, occasionally she stumbles. “Are you dizzy?” Zirin asks. But the firebender dismisses the question and moves forward like nothing had happened. As they near the edge of the village they come to more curious things; a vendor selling superstitious trinkets, a man selling animal bones (Azula cringes away from this one very quickly), an older woman, scantily clad and adorned with faux gold preforming a strange and ancient dance, and a man with more tattoos than she’d ever seen on a person. He is quite a sight, his earlobes are stretched to fit small rocks in them. She wonders if he’d done the ink himself. Azula watches him for a moment before moving on. She finishes the peach and discards the pit.

 Halfway home she seems to be losing her spark, her stride is becoming sluggish. Eventually Zirin is concerned enough to carry her the rest of the way back, regardless of looks she is shot and the other silent protests she is given.

 .oOo.

 Okon refused to work on her until her fever had come to pass. It seemed to last ages, but it finally did. Zirin instructs the princess to lay on her stomach and trust her. Turst. It is something Azula doesn’t give easily and Zirin resents that all of the trust she had earned was taken by circumstance. To something that wasn’t her fault at all. She is thankful, however, that she had built enough trust back to be able to persuade Azula to let Okon help her. She hands her shirt to Zirin and lays back down on the table, with her cheek resting on her arms.

 “Yer gonna feel some pressure. It ain’t gonna hert but it ain’t ‘sactly pleasant neither.” Okon warns. “Hol’ still.” He turns around holding a drill.

 Her composure slips immediately, she is on her feet, hollering, fire in her palms. The fear in her eyes is frenzied and unchecked. Zirin is angry that she didn’t account for this. Of course drills didn’t bode well with Azula, a drill is probably what drove the wolf-bat bone into her in the first place.

 Zirin takes Azula by the wrists, doing everything she can to avoid hurting her. “He ain’t gonna hurt you, Azula. I promise. It ain’t gonna be the same as what they did.” She fights to keep her voice soft and level as the princess struggles against her. “Trust me. You gotta.” She regrets not disclosing her idea in full.

 “She don’t hav’ ta do this if she ain’t want it.” Okon says. “We ken try again some other time.”

 Zirin knows that his word is final. She knows that it doesn’t matter anyways, there is no way she’d be getting Azula back on that table. At least not then.

 The next day is a different matter. Azula is calmer. Zirin watches her eat breakfast, thankful that the princess has her appetite back again and twice as thankful that she can keep her food down. With the fever a few days over, she—though pale—is looking at least some healthier. Just in case Zirin helps her apply aloe to the scars and the skin around the wolf-bat bones.

 She decides to bring it up again. “They ain’t have to be ugly.” She motions to the jutting bones. “The can be somethin’ beautiful, you know.”

 Azula’s gaze catches hers and she knows that the firebender is listening.

 “I jus’ need you to let my father do his thing. He’s real careful. He ain’t hurt you yet has he? Not if he could help it.”

 Zirin doesn’t know that her words have any effect until Azula is laying back on the table with her shirt off and her cheek nuzzled against her arms again.

 “This time, ya hol still.” He instructs and reminds her that she’ll feel some pressure.

 Azula, Zirin finds, is rather good at keeping still.  She tenses some at the sight of the drill but lets him bring it to the wolf bone. He is working to hollow it out, the only movement made by the princess is that which is created by the rocking of the drill. Her face contorts in displeasure at points, but otherwise she takes it well.

 The bone is hard to grind and Zirin knows that they can’t finish in one session. Such matters can’t be rushed. Azula pulls a sleep shirt on.

“See that weren’t so bad now were it?”

 Azula doesn’t answer, opting to brush her fingers over excess fabric instead. Finally, she shakes her head no.

 “No it weren’t so bad?”

 Azula clarifies with a nodded yes.

 “I tol’ you it wouldn’t be.” Zirin hopes to herself that this had earned her a heap of trust points. She believes that it has because this time Azula lets her hold her hand as they would to the bedroom.

[we-are-monk]

Inspirations for Matsubi Hanako I like to sit down and ask myself what building blocks got me my character or storyline. Examining this helps me know why I made certain choices. Fox Statue

Shrines to Inari often have foxes as statues, as they serve as messengers to the deity. This one has a scroll in its mouth, like the one on Hanako’s back tattoo. The idea of foxes as divine messengers of became this temple where kitsune are venerated as semi-divine, a little like how celestial-blooded creatures might be everywhere else. While I was supposed to be researching for a term paper I ran across some neat comparative mythology scholarship on fox stories in East Asian lore. Hanako is, obviously, primarily Japanese inspired but stories of the Chinese huli jing and the Korean gumiho influenced both her specifically and the lore surrounding her people. (The country Hanako is from in her original setting is not an island nation, and that shows.) Hanako’s tension with her bestial vs. her spiritual nature is a common theme in Daoist and Buddhist fox stories. Often the less enlightened foxes indulge in trickery or seduction or outright predation, until they are destroyed. But the wise fox gains immortality by overcoming these issues. Her fear of dogs references specifically, “Come and Sleep.” Her ability to drain the ki of her foes is common in fox stories in China, and the habit impoverished kitsune have of eating the flesh of dead humans comes from Korean stories about foxes eating the livers of humans who they killed (Hanako’s favorite guilty pleasure is eating liver.) credit: somethingweirdisaw Library Fox of Wan Shi Tong

In the Avatar universe, the library of Wan Shi Tong sat half in the real world and half in the spirit world as an elusive repository of knowledge. His minions are little foxes that manage the library - this is a huge part of Hanako’s role in this world. There’s a throwaway line in Patrick Rothfuss’s Name of the Wind about the University’s adventure librarians that combined with these scroll-hoarding foxes to become Hana. Also, Iroh is there.

credit: Legend of Korra screenshot

Vulpix

It’s not so secret that I sometimes use visual cues from a pokemon in my character design. I’ve had a ninetales named after Hanako since 4th gen. It wasn’t really my doing alone that she managed to gain her many tails by eating a magic crystal.

credit: pokemon anime via bulbapedia

Maya Fey/Ayasato Mayoi

It wasn’t until I started playing through the games again recently that I realized how heavily I’d borrowed from Maya in terms of Hanako’s demeanor, appetite, and appearance. I decided to give her the necklace as a nod to this relationship.

credit: jadenkaiba on deviantart

Monk/Champion class, Ragnarok Online

I played this game for 8+ years and it still surprises me what design choices I make that relate directly to this game’s aesthetic. Hanako’s heavy rope belt and prayer beads wrapped around a gauntlet probably rely on this a little.

credit: Gravity

Souhei *extra credits whisper:* Warrior monks.The concept of the warrior monk that runs through the fantasy class usually pulls from Shaolin, and the emphasis on hand to hand combat that even Hanako has is indicative of this. (Again, Hanako’s only mostly Japanese.) The way monasteries in her homeland fight with both samurai and each other, the way they see commoners, and the way that monks who aren’t Hanako often wear armor and carry blades draws from stories of angry armed Buddhists in Japan. Hanako’s bracers and the headscarf I never draw her wearing are references to this.

credit: ikkyu-no-yume

Juri Han Hanako’s not evil, doesn’t do taekwondo, and I don’t play Street Fighter. But something about Juri’s body language and facial expressions suit Hanako, who is always trying to hold back a predator.

credit: kotku

Ahri

I was hesitant to admit this, it feels a bit pedestrian. But they share some similar notes in “guilt about their innate powers” and “feeding off people”, even if Hanako is less morally grey and less seductive. Though she does have a weak charm ability, Hana probably couldn’t entrance her way out of a paper bag. I’m tempted to add suzu bells to Hanako’s design. Ahri makes ringing bell sounds when she moves and attacks that I imagine working for Hanako.

credit: ryuradraws

Shippou I was twelve, I liked the kid and the then-unfamiliar medieval Japanese setting, and I think that’s why I figured kitsune had a place in my fantasy world at the beginning.

credit: rat-king-arts