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tangent101 · 3 years

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An interesting Life is Strange writing concept

I just recently stumbled across an interesting concept for Life is Strange in which Alex Chen was adopted by the Caulfield family and went to Blackwell with Max... and it got me thinking.

First, I need to say this outright. I am using this fanfiction's idea as a launching point for brainstorming of concepts and ideas. My ideas are no better or worse than the fanfiction. This other story is fantastic on its own and does not need my input and this is not a criticism of the story. Instead, it's an examination of a basic concept: What happens if Alex Chen were to be adopted by the Caulfield clan.

The first thing to consider is this: Alex is a psychic. She is predominantly empathic and can get flashes of thoughts when emotions are intense enough and/or she focuses on what that person is thinking. So... this has caused a number of fostering situations to fall through.

Interestingly enough, there is a point when the Caulfield clan could have taken in Alex before this became an issue... and that's when Alex was 11 and first put into the foster care system. Foster parents are actually given a stipend to help pay for the financial expenses behind caring for a child, and in theory that could have been enough money to keep Ryan and Vanessa from moving out of Arcadia Bay.

But let's say that they actually adopted Alex (and thus potentially forfeited that financial boon). Would they adopt Alex and abandon Gabe to the system? Would we have two kids becoming Max's big brother and kid sister?

In this situation, Chloe would obviously know that Max has siblings now. And what's more, I cannot help but think that Alex, with her burgeoning psychic abilities, would push Max to either stay in contact or get back in contact with Chloe.

Okay, let's change things up. Alternative Reality #2 had the Chen family uproot themselves as Alex's father looked for employment. He ended up working at the docks in Seattle but losing his job when the incident happens that resulted in Social Services putting Alex and Gabe in the foster system. Alex languishes in a foster care system that is not good. Gabe ends up in Juvie. And when Alex was 14, she ends up fostered to the Caulfield family.

At this point, it's 2011. Max has been out of contact with Chloe for several years. She is pining though. And Alex, with psychic nerves rubbed raw, likely has come across several instances of this. Max, being the sort of person who hates causing a commotion, would not tell her parents about any weirdness and indeed if her parents were getting weirded out likely would come to Alex's defense. So after a small waiting period you end up having Alex adopted by the Caulfield clan... with emerging psychic powers but a family that is far more comforting and caring than the foster care system.

Alex knows how much Max misses Chloe. Yes, it's been a couple of years. But Alex herself has had friends in the foster care system that she has fallen out of touch with, others that ditched her, and she likely knows what it's like to be abandoned. Alex likely would push Max to get back in touch with Chloe early on.

I can't help but think that Max would succumb to Alex's good-intended urging on this. So Max contacts Chloe. She sends a text.

Let's say that Rachel intercepted the text. She blocks Max's number. Chloe doesn't need that drama in her life. (Bad enough that Joyce is constantly bringing up Max, and Chloe is having trouble letting her go. It's better this way. Sometimes you have to move on. Jealousy has nothing to do with this.)

Or maybe David confiscated Chloe's phone and blocked the number and deleted the text because Chloe doesn't need old friends when he's trying to break down this young soldier to rebuild into a productive member of society according to his military mindset (HA!) and Rachel's innocent in this.

Alex wouldn't just let this drop. Anyone who's played True Colors knows how stubborn our young lady is. And she's driven by psychic powers as well that are blossoming under a more loving home. Wouldn't Alex follow up with her own text? And Rachel or David likely wouldn't intercept every text or block her as well. Hell, she might go for broke and call Joyce. And Joyce sure as blazes would make sure that Chloe knew Max was contacting her. (And that Max has a sister now.)

So Chloe is now in touch with Max. The roadblocks are quite important because if Rachel blocked Max's number, then this is going to cause a bit of a blowup that weakens Chloe and Rachel's relationship, while if David were the culprit then Joyce is going to have words with him (as she loves Max and sees her as not only a second daughter but a stabilizing influence).

Of course, there is always possibility 3 - neither David nor Rachel tried to block Max's efforts to contact Chloe and that went off without a hitch but where's the fun in that? XD

Anyway, Alex would be urging Max to remain in touch with Chloe. She would also likely notice that Max is crushing hard on Chloe and may very well push Max down that path. And given that Rachel was flirting with other people... well, Max being back in Chloe's life could do one of two things - either draw Rachel closer into Chloe's circle out of jealousy, or give Rachel reason to push Chloe toward Max and do her own thing while remaining friends with Chloe.

I like Rachel. I can't help but think it would be #2, especially given what we know about Rachel from the original Life is Strange. She cared deeply for Chloe and didn't want to hurt her. So... yes, I can see Rachel helping encourage Chloe to let bygones be bygones and to pursue her own romantic leanings toward Max. We'd have shippers on either end pushing the two together (Alex pushing Max and Rachel pushing Chloe).

It might even be amusing and interesting to see Rachel and Chloe drive up to Seattle to meet Max and for Rachel in that situation to meet the mysterious Alex Chen who she's been texting and possibly flirting with on the phone. (Amberchen? Hmmm...)

One other thing that is likely to happen is that Max would be a stabilizing influence on Chloe's life. She is a pressure valve even as Rachel was more of an instigator. So with Max urging Chloe to focus more on school, we may very well see Chloe starting to apply herself more to her classes. And if Chloe doesn't get kicked out of high school then David has one less thing to rail against Chloe with.

Rachel and Chloe would graduate a year before Max would (and two years before Alex). With Max back in Chloe's life, and a new friendship growing between Alex and Rachel? Then we may very well see Rachel less desperate for an escape because now there is a plan. Go to college with Chloe up in Seattle. Sure, it's not California but there are other advantages to the region (including legal weed!) and having good friends there would be reason enough. She escapes Jeffershit's death trap by never getting close to him. Nor does she get close to Frank. Similarly, Max has no reason to go to Blackwell because Chloe is coming to Seattle!

And Alex? Alex gets a home life that is far more loving than what she went through in the original timeline. And she has good friends... which will be useful when on October 13, 2013 a truly nasty storm strikes Arcadia Bay, wiping out most of the town and killing hundreds of people including the student body of Blackwell Academy. Because fate is a fickle bitch and Chloe Price wasn't dying as a sacrifice in a bathroom in Blackwell Academy. But you know? While Chloe, Rachel, and Max grieve... Max never blames herself for something outside of her control, and the girls never went through the horrors of the original Life is Strange.

Well done, Alex! You saved the day once again! ^^ And amusingly enough, when Max, Chloe, and Rachel go with Alex to meet her brother Gabe, Max is on hand to witness Gabe's death, her powers emerge, and she saves Alex's brother... but that is a different story. ;)

#alex chen #max caulfield #chloe price #rachel amber #life is strange #lis #life is strange: true colors #lis: true colors #lis: tc #alternate universe

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katalyna-rose · 6 years

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Break

Commission for @river-goddess-sionann of Xeema Lavellan and Solas!

Smut, BDSM, choking, bondage, cunnilingus, blow jobs, orgasm denial

2,930 words

There was something about the visitor that Xeema was not saying, and it was beginning to grate on Solas’s nerves. A member of her clan and thus more familiar with her than most others, there seemed to be something just beneath the surface whenever he spoke to the Inquisitor. Aenor was just a little too comfortable around Xeema and Solas needed to know why. He had attempted to ask her on several occasions but she had brushed him aside and refused to answer each time, and watching Aenor look at her like that was grating on his nerves.

It was difficult most days to carve out time for their games, their duties with the Inquisition taking precedence even over need, but it was possible. He begged leave from Josephine for the Inquisitor to rest for a day, citing the sheer volume of work she had been buried under for too long, and he had smiled as she’d seemed almost flustered that he would do such a thing for his lover. Josephine handled it from there, and he suddenly had all the time he needed to make Xeema talk.

He cornered her at her desk in her quarters that afternoon, leaning over to get in the way of her work and extracting her pen from her fingers deftly enough not to get ink all over her hand. The wolf was prowling in his veins, had been promised a hunt, but there were steps that the man had to take before the wolf was let off the leash.

“Hey!” Xeema protested as she was interrupted. “I was doing something!”

“You were,” he agreed easily, his voice dark with the promise of the hunt to come, and he watched the way she changed as she realized she was prey. Her shoulders went back and her head came up and her gorgeous dark hair was tucked behind her ear in a gesture she’d never admit was nervous. “And now you will do something else.”

She scoffed at him. “And why should I?” she defied, but her golden eyes were glinting with mischief.

“Because I will make it worth your while,” he vowed, and she couldn’t quite suppress her shiver.

Then her face soured. “I can’t. I have too much work to do in the morning,” she told him, sounding as though she were trying not to whine. Her shoulders slumped in defeat but he gave her a predatory grin.

“You do not,” he revealed. “I took care of it. You have nothing to do tomorrow except recover from what I will do to you tonight.”

She straightened, interest sparking once more. “How did you manage that?” she asked suspiciously.

“Josephine is not immune to my charm,” was all he said, though charm had nothing to do with it. He just wanted to see her chafe for a moment.

And chafe she did, shooting him a sharp look. “So you cleared my schedule for tomorrow?” she clarified.

He lifted a brow. “That is what I am telling you, da’len,” he asserted, and saw the way the pet name made her shift in her seat. He stood straight once more, holding a hand out to her in invitation. She did not hesitate to take it as she rose from her chair and joined him on the other side of her desk.

He knew her well, knew what she liked and what she didn’t, had been preparing for this all day. She knew her limits and what to say if he went too far, what he would say if she did too much. It made things quite simple as he drew her into his arms and kissed her hard enough to leave her gasping and clinging to him. The wolf was off its leash and hungry for her, as hungry for the chase, for the fight, as it was for the sweet taste of victory. And he knew that she would fight and claw and disobey at every turn, and it made his cock ache in his trousers to imagine all the ways that he would punish her for it. And he thought for a moment of how sweet it would be in the aftermath to trace each new mark on their bodies and hold her in his arms as she slept, looking so innocent in the wake of it all.

Clothing was removed easily, a barrier neither of them would enjoy, but when he swept her into his arms she kicked and twisted like a snake. He kept hold of her until he was able to toss her onto the bed. She vaulted herself up but he was too quick for her, pinning her with his weight as they grappled for control. His cock was hard as iron, blood beating on his inner ear and excitement speeding his breaths. He could smell the clean scent of her skin, of her hair, of the arousal that was quickly overtaking her, and his body burned hotter. She clawed and growled as she attempted to buck him off, dark brown skin flushing red with exertion and desire in equal measures. She was swift, but he was strong and the wolf was more patient than her, and he won this first battle. Hands pinned to the mattress on either side of her head still she bucked and kicked. He sat on her legs, kept them together for the moment, and beneath his weight she was finally immobilized. Her eyes blazed and she snarled at him, but when he bent to kiss her hard she kissed back, her tongue twining with his and her teeth in his lip.

“Tell me, da’len,” he said at last, attempting to mask the fact that he was winded. “This Aenor who looks at you in such possessive ways. Who is he to you?”

So started by his question that she ceased all struggle, Xeema blinked up at her lover blankly for a moment. “That’s what this is about?” she finally cried, disbelief clear in her tone. Eyes narrowed to show his displeasure with her tone, he bit the tip of her ear hard enough to sting.

“Careful, da’len,” he warned, hot breath in her ear to make her shiver. “That sounds dangerously close to disrespect.” He felt her take a breath to respond, but his magic seeped into her skin and rendered her unable to move a muscle. He sat back and sighed as he looked down at her, no longer needing to hold her still. Her eyes blazed at him but she could not voice her protests and he could smell on her skin how much she loved that he had her at his mercy. He moved her like a doll, raising her arms higher above her head and spreading her legs wide.

He took a moment to sit back and admire her form, to trace the puckered skin around one dark nipple and run his nails lightly along her inner thigh. Then he pulled his magic back until he restrained her only at wrists and ankles, no more than rope could do to her.

As soon as her mouth was free she was using it. “You’re that jealous, hahren?” she asked, still sounding surprised.

“You have not been forthright with me,” he replied instead of answering. “I have grown tired of asking and never receiving a proper answer. You do not see, or you ignore, the heads that turn when you walk by and I grow tired of others coveting what is mine. Who is he?”

Her eyes narrowed as she thought of how to answer, and he knew it would not be the truth. “He’s a member of my clan,” she said at last, and he sighed his disappointment. Magic sparked on her belly, a snap of electricity that startled her into a little shriek.

“Try again, da’len,” Solas offered in a hard voice, a final chance to make it easier on herself. “Who is he? What is your relationship with him?”

“He’s a hunter,” she gasped, and the magic crackled on her inner thighs.

Solas loomed over her, casting her in the shadow of his form. “It seems that I must break you before you will cooperate,” he growled. He watched her swallow hard, then bent to carefully close his teeth around the front of her throat. Hard enough for her to know the threat, gentle enough not to cause pain, he could taste the fine hairs that rose on her skin from the touch.

“I’d rather let you be jealous,” she asserted, her tone arch and her body trembling with desire, and his teeth were instantly replaced with his hand squeezing. Measured pressure, the placement of his fingers just so, she managed a strangled gasp before he cut off her air.

“I think you had best be silent until you are ready to tell me what I wish to know,” he told her, and her shiver was such a sweet reward. He held her there, watching the way her pupils dilated, until he knew she would be seeing stars, then released. She gasped hard enough to make herself cough, and he drew one hardened nipple into his mouth. Teeth dug in carefully, tugging hard enough to make her whimper. But he was not satisfied with that. Down her body, settling between her legs, he breathed deep of the scent of her arousal. Sweet and rich, she radiated heat, head lifted from the bed to watch him. No, not yet, he wouldn’t give her that pleasure so easily. First a tease, he bit up her inner thigh from her knee to the joint of her hip, moving slow and leaving the marks of his teeth in her skin. They would bruise by morning and she would enjoy that soreness as she wrapped her legs around him later. Once he had reached her soaked cunt, breathing the humid scent of her, she raised her hips to his mouth. And he denied her, moving to her other thigh to bite his way up it as well. She released a grunt of irritation and jerked on her bonds but his magic was strong and she would not break it. No, this time she had to wait.

One last bite into her thigh that she would be feeling immediately and then he savored the moment before the plunge. Her lips were wet and already swollen with desire though he had not touched her yet, and her body trembled with need. And then he was upon her, diving into her like a drowning man coming up for air. Hands clenched on her ass, kneading the muscle and lifting her for better access as he thrust his tongue deep inside her and moaned at the thick flavor of her. She was addictive, writhing in his hands and moaning so loudly for him as he found her bud worried it with the tip of his tongue. It swelled for him as she released a rush of wetness that he eagerly lapped up. Tongue deep inside her again, he nuzzled it with his nose and savored the way she thrashed, denying himself breath to bring her pleasure. When he could feel that she was on the very edge of release, her body straining at the razor’s edge, he pulled away all at once.

“No!” she cried, but it did not mean stop. He waited in case she would say anything more, but had her jaw stubbornly clenched and he smiled, predatory, as he licked her off his lips.

“Are you ready to cooperate, da’len?” he asked, his voice rough with the pleasure that beat against his chest.

Her jaw remained clenched, a concession that was also disobedience since he had bid her to be silent until she acquiesced. He chuckled low in his chest, enjoying how she defied him, and settled his hips between her legs. Leaning over her, he kissed her lightly and laughed once more when she chased his lips in desperation.

Both a punishment and to ensure that she would not find her finish, he washed her body in cold magic. She gasped, those eyes he loved going wide as she jolted against her bonds and attempted to curl into herself away from the cold that puckered her nipples and raised goosebumps across her skin, but she could not escape. She glared her displeasure at him but her jaw remained clenched.

His achingly hard cock, unaffected by the cold he had doused her with, pressed at her entrance. Her lips were chilled but her wetness had not receded, and the pleasure arced up his spine as he slid slowly into the hot and slick embrace of her body. She whimpered at the stretch, the size of him a strain for her, but he closed his lips around one nipple and sucked, a burst of pleasure to reopen her body to him. Her pleasure flowed from her like a wave, coating his cock and dripping down his testicles as her body open and then squeezed around him. She felt like bliss, like home, like times long forgotten by the world where pleasure was the work of decades. He would have taken great pleasure in her body then, laid her on silk and balanced on the line between pleasure and agony until the euphoria engulfed them.

But those days were gone, and he had a goal tonight. He thrust into her, careful to measure her pleasure, and increased his pace until he was pounding her little body into the mattress with enough force to make the headboard bang against the wall, to fill the room with her cries. And when she began to clench around him, her sweet cunt squeezing his cock hard, he pulled out.

She shrieked wordlessly at him, all but sobbing for completion and thrashing against her bonds. He sat back and merely watched her struggle, his own pleasure pounding through his blood and demanding release.

“You could end this, da’len,” he reminded her. “Tell me what I wish to know and I will give you release.”

She only shrieked again and jerked harder at her bonds, hard enough that she nearly broke free. He renewed his grip on her, shifted it, pulled her upright by the shoulders and moved her arms behind her back. He shifted her around on the bed until she knelt before him, glaring with gleaming eyes and trembling with unfulfilled pleasure.

“Open your mouth,” he commanded, and she trembled. He wondered if she would disobey again, but her lust won out and she opened. His cock was dripping with her as he thrust carefully into her mouth, but she sucked on him without hesitation, tongue sweeping over the flesh. He watched her, a hand in her hair to control her head, liquid heat pooling in his belly. In this, she was eager, deriving nearly as much pleasure from the act as he did. And he rewarded her for her compliance, his magic warm against her skin as he thrust his hips harder and she took him deeper. Tingles along her skin made her shiver as she took him into her throat and his moan was wrenched from his chest. The magic solidified between her legs, pushed past her lips as his cock pushed into her mouth again. A steady thrust against her tongue, matched by the magic, and she tried to hurry him, to take him harder and faster as she realized what he was doing. His hand in her hair tightened, forced her to bend to his will, and he fucked her slowly. Slow and steady, no matter how hard she tried to rush him, he fucked her mouth with his cock and her cunt with his magic until his pleasure crested. A deep thrust into her throat and he released his seed with a low cry of her name.

She took him well, swallowed his spend, and sniffled a little as he pulled away. He knelt before her and wiped away the tears that had fallen as he fucked her face. “Tell me, da’len,” he urged, gentle this time. “Who is Aenor?”

She met his gaze and he saw that she was broken. Thumbs stroking her cheeks to comfort her, he held her steady as she was at last ready to give in. “I slept with him once, long ago,” she revealed. “With my lover at the time, we had a night of fun. He made a pass at me the other day, an offer to rekindle an old affair. I refused. I have you, instead.”

Smiling, Solas leaned in to kiss her gently. “Good girl,” he murmured, and helped her lay back. Arms still bound over her head, he released her legs. She trembled as she wrapped them carefully around his hips. His arousal had not waned with release, and with a stroke of his hand he sank into her once more. Deep, hard thrusts angled to bring her the most pleasure, he held her against him as he made love to her. When she came she sobbed in relief, and he held her gently. The magic vanished from her body and she sighed heavily as she relaxed into the mattress.

She was all but boneless as he washed the sweat from her skin and brushed her damp hair. He offered to heal the bruises he’d left on her thighs, but she covered them protectively and refused. Tangled together, they rested a while. Soon, Solas told himself, he’d go in search of food. But for the moment he laid in bliss with Xeema sleeping in his arms.

#kat offers commissions #lavellan #solas #solavellan

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mel-animeland · 6 years

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Back in March, I wrote a post for the “Squad” OWLS tour, the prompt was about friendship and as support for the topic, I decide to go with the anime and manga series, Seraph of the End (Owari no Serafu). I decided focus the post on Guren to show what one can do for their friend(s), even if they shouldn’t be friend with them in first place.

I have to say, I really enjoyed writing this post, not only cause I love the series, but also because of what Guren was ready to do for his friend, in fact, more I was writing the post, more I was liking him and seeing him under a new light (I still have trouble to fully trust him tho)

I was almost done with the post when I thought of and other series I could have used for the March tour. The series I was thinking about, portrayed a really different kind of friendship than seen in Seraph of the End.

The series I’m thinking about is K-Project, the focus would have been on the relation between Fushimi and Yata. The more I was thinking Fushimi and Yata, the more I wanted to write about what happened between them and why their friendship ended the way it ended.

K-Project also simply known as K is an original anime series, produced by the studio GoHand (Hand Shakers), counting two seasons and a movie (starting from July 2018, seven other movies will be release) different manga and light novel. The first season, aired from October 2012 to December 2012, the second season title K: Return of Kings aired from October 2015 to December 2015. The movie was released between the two seasons in July 2014. To know more about the K franchise, you can visit the Wikia fan page. This post gonna be mainly based on the information found in the manga “Lost Small World” which follow the story of Fushimi and Yata from before they joined Homra until they part away.

GoRa

The manga gonna get a movie adaptation that will be presented in -Japanese – theaters on October 6th (from all the K Seven Stories coming out it’s the one I’m looking forward the most.)

After talking about it with my really good friend Zel from ARCHI-ANIME, she said that I should still write a post about it and since I’m a really good friend, I’m listening to her.

So here we are, after a long introduction, my thought on the relationship between Fushimi and Yata.

** As always the post will or might contains spoilers **

************

What do we know about the relation between Fushimi and Yata, if we only take in consideration the anime series?

On one side, Fushimi seems quite enjoying pissing-off Yata and on the other Yata thinki Fushimi is traitor and cannot be trusted (which is not too far from the true since Fushimi left/defected the Red Clan to join a rival clan).

This is what we can understand from the anime, of course thing change a little bit between them toward the end of the second season, but for the most of the series Fushimi is seen teasing Yata and Yata reply with his flame.

This is what the series show us, however, there was a time where both were really close friend, they were what we would call best friend.

So why they aren’t best friend anymore? Why Fushimi left, betray, the Red Clan and Yata for the Blue Clan and Munataka?

First off, you need to know their friendship didn’t had a solid foundation since the beginning, the reason why Fushimi and Yata became friend is because the former was craving for attention and the latter was giving him this attention. Between you and me, this doesn’t make a really solid base, cause soon as one or the other change their surroundings, thing stop being the way they were before. In the present case, when Yata and Fushimi joined the Red Clan (I have to say Yata was way more thrilled about it than Fushimi), Yata got a new group of friend, new interests. Yata always been the friendly type, an idiot that need a lot of explanation, but he was always friendly with a kind of child’s innocence. Fushimi never really find his place in the Red Clan, it wasn’t his idea and always thought they were better off without them, they didn’t need those rascal in their life. More days they were passing with the Red Clan furthers was drifting away Yata from Fushimi, Yata fitted in the group and he was always in adoration in front of the Red King, Suoh Mikoto, the very cool blazing king. This adoration Fushimi was once the object, he was slowly losing him, this attention he craved so much for wasn’t his anymore.

Fushimi needed it, he needed to be noticed, acknowledged. He needed someone to look at him like if he was the coolest guy of Japan, the smartest of the planet. He needed because no one in his family never gave him. His mom was always more interested in her company than in her son well-being, Fushimi always referred to “This man wife” when talking about his mother and for her he was only “Niki’s son”

His father, Fushimi Niki, wasn’t better, in fact he was worse than her, he was barely at home and when he was, he was making sure to torment his son. Niki was an intelligent man coming from a wealthy family, but alas money and intelligence doesn’t make him a competent father. If he named his son Saruhiko it’s because the first time he saw him not long after his son birth, Niki said that he was ugly and looked like a monkey (Saru means monkey in japanese) just to tell you how he was seeing his son (and as a really good mom, Saruhiko’s mother just laugh telling her husband he was right).

I can give you a more concrete example of how twisted his father was.

One day little Saruhiko was examining an anthill, for a school project, he was fascinated by it. Seeing how much his son was enjoying watching the anthill, Niki decide to pour fuel in it and set it on fire in front of his toddler son…great father right. I can also tell you about that one time little Saruhiko wanted to race against his father to solve a Rubik’ Cube, Saruhiko finished quickly and look at his father proud of himself thinking his father would have done the race with him, however, Niki never solved the cube puzzle instead he waited for his son to finish his cube, looked at him and break the cube apart while smiling.

Niki always took pleasure in destroying what Saruhiko cared about.

Little Saruhiko learnt the hard way that everything that he loved can be destroyed.

His family was clearly dysfunctional, he never really had friend, how one can develop social aptitude when he is ignored or psychological tortured by the people who should have taught him how to socialize with the people around him, his parents. Saruhiko was relief when his father died, Saruhiko go see him at the hospital, he screamed his anger at the corpse. Yata had to stop him cause he was about to go out of control. That was the effect Niki had on his son. Even after his death, he was still tormenting Saruhiko. He was still seeing him in his dreams (nightmare is more appropriate), he was hallucinating him, he even saw him through his smartphone (until Munataka come in and hinted Saruhiko his phone had a virus, virus sent by Aya his cousin)

His familial background made him asocial, preferring the company of computer than human being, during his middle school days, Fushimi was passing more time locked in the toilet stall with his own computer program than in class. And that is where he met Yata. (no wonder their relation became like shit…)

Yata Misaki didn’t really have a great life either before Fushimi, but it was still better than his friend. While he didn’t came from a wealthy family, he came from a loving one, his mother was remarried, but his step-sibling loved him and he was a caring big brother. Yata always been pretty friendly and easy-going, however he was also not the smartest tool of the shed. He state it himself, he is an idiot that need to have thing repeated and explained to him more than once before he get it. This also made him a little bit naive, there is time that people pretend to be his friend for later just throw him away, which affect him. He might have come from a pretty normal family, but Yata was still looking for friends he could trust and a place where he could belong.

He found the first when he met Fushimi in the bathroom stall of their school (fanfic material here) Fushimi was playing a game involving calculation and Yata was pretty amazed about that Starting from there, they boy start to hang out together and eventually they became best friend, they were always together and they both decide to not go in high-school, they found a place to live, not a great place, but it was their place, a place where they both belong, where they talk, talk about taking over the world.

Thing could have stayed like that and their friendship would have remained unchanged, however one day they cross the path of the Red Clan and his King, Mikoto and few days laters That Yata had to beg the Red King to protect his best friend. This day Yata wanted to find a way to be able to not rely on other, he wanted to be stronger, that is why he reach the Red Clan, and Fushimi just tag along. To this day, I still have the feeling Yata never really planned to join the clan, but after receiving the Homra mark, he felt like he finally had found that place he had been looking for.

Quickly, Yata made friend with the other member of the group. While Yata was making his place within the Red Clan, Fushimi looked from afar wondering why Mikoto was so incredible, not only he was slowly losing the attention Yata was giving him, but for the other clan member, Fushimi didn’t had something special, they wasn’t acknowledging for what he could to, Fushimi didn’t had any purpose within the Red Clan. Fushimi never felt like he was belonging to this place, a place where his best friend was happy, where he could be happy with him he doubted that he was at the right place, the Homra sign on his chest was painful which shouldn’t normally be and he was scared of Mikoto. Yata and Fushimi was slowly drifting apart, and thing become harder for the old friend.

Fushimi realize that Yata wasn’t the same anymore, at least in his eyes, when the latter stopped being there for him. Fushimi is not the type who would open up easily, so if he need to talk about so matter, like the scary hallucinations he had of his deceased father, his friend should have been ready to listen to him, however it wasn’t the case, Yata was more busy talking about how awesome the Red Clan and Mikoto was than paying attention to Fushimi, he never realized once the one he used to call best friend needed him to be by side. Of course Fushimi always wanted to monopolize Yata attention that what he needed since he never had it before.

Yata always lacked of discernment not being able to read the mood, now don’t get me wrong I don’t blame Yata for what happened between them, Fushimi was also in the wrong for not trying to talk more to him, Fushimi knew how Yata was, he was already like that when they were in middle school. Yata Misaki always been a little bit pushy, no matter how many time Fushimi tried to push him away, the chestnut-haired boy always came back without taking in consideration how Fushimi was feeling, Yata is not the type to listen other. despite the fact that at first Fushimi was annoyed by that, slowly he came to accept Yata presence and stop to push the one who will become his best friend away. Fushimi knew Yata wasn’t able to read the situation however there was time his friend could figure out what was going on with is own process of thinking and there was time he hit the middle of the target. The one time Fushimi had wished Yata would get by himself that his friend needed his help, Yata didn’t and I think it affected Fushimi more than he let it appear. However Fushimi being Fushimi, he said nothing to make himself to be understood and pushed Yata away one last time, thinking he didn’t need him anymore. Fushimi was bitter, Yata wasn’t the one he use to be, they weren’t talking about taking over the world anymore, Yata was all about Homra a group where Fushimi didn’t fit in, a group where Fushimi never tried to fit in. Yata is surely not the only one to blame for what happened between them, Fushimi also have his part of responsibilities for not speaking earlier to Yata, for not telling him how he felt.

By pushing Yata away, Fushimi didn’t had anything to tie him back to the Red Clan, plus Munataka, the Blue King saw the potential the young man had and offer him to join his clan instead. At first Fushimi wasn’t sure of the choice he should make, however he saw in the Blue clan something he needed, something the Red clan didn’t gave him, acknowledgement. Munataka would give Fushimi a reason to use his skill and purpose in life a d place where he could belong. All the thing Mikoto and the Red clan could give to Fushimi, Munataka and the Blue clan would give it to him.

As you can guess, Yata didn’t welcome the news with his usual cheerful attitude and it didn’t took long for him to call the one who was his best friend a traitor. Fushimi burned the mark he had on the chest mocking Yata and his pride.

Fushimi and Yata friendship was probably bound to be broken, it didn’t have a stable foundation like communication or mutual understanding, both were polar opposite. While Fushimi never missed a chance to piss-off Yata, in the end he still cared about his old friend and former clan, finding information for them. The one of the thing Fushimi was scared of, was to become like his father, however Yata told him that it will never happen since Fushimi had something his father, Niki, didn’t had, a conscience and in his “ book he was straight up guy”

I know my title include the words broken friendship, however while their friendship was indeed broken for some years, in the end they made up and start a new when Fushimi finally decide to talk to Yata about what happened

Friendship are important in a person life, friend are there when the family is not, they are there to support you, this is why they need to be chosen and once you get them you need to nourish this friendship and make sure it never wither.

It wasn’t an OWLS post, but it could have been one, hope you enjoyed the read, cause I really enjoyed writing it.

Once again thank to my fabulous friend Zel for pushing me to write this post.

~ Thank you for Reading ~

The Tale of a Broken Friendship Between a Monkey and a Crow Back in March, I wrote a post for the “Squad” OWLS tour, the prompt was about friendship and as support for the topic, I decide to go with the anime and manga series, …

#k #k-project #saruhiko fushimi #special post #yata misaki

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brynne-lagaao · 8 years

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(Fanfic) All That We Are - Chapter Six

Title: All That We Are

Chapter: 6/12

Rating: M

Mirrors: AO3 | FF.NET | Website

Summary: There wasn’t any real need to find out whether or not they were soulmates if they were both sure of the answer. But Yata’s answer was different from Fushimi’s, and that was just another of the dividing points they couldn’t reconcile.

Note: Once again, thank you to my wonderful betas, @dropletons and @candylit for their hard work and for not giving up on me over the course of writing this fic! You guys rock!

A large part of this fic takes place behind the scenes of certain canon events. Whenever it’s material outside of the anime (season one, Missing Kings, and Return of Kings), I’ll try to provide notes stating which materials are referenced. The fic should still stand decently without reading those things, but certain parts will make more sense in context.

Chapter Note: This chapter contains a reference to the first chapter of the K: Countdown manga, which takes place between Missing Kings and Return of Kings. It also refers back to something that happened in the drama cd, If There Was Homra (text translation here and audio here), set between season one and Missing Kings.

It wasn’t the flawless red of Anna’s fresh Sword of Damocles that stuck out in Fushimi’s mind hours later, though the lingering memory of fire blazing up through the scar at his collar hadn’t quite faded despite everything. He lifted his fingers from the keyboard of his laptop and reached up to slide them under the edge of his shirt reflexively, giving the mark a half-hearted scratch as his thoughts wandered.

It was early in the afternoon, sunlight pouring in through the large windows, but the working office space at Scepter 4 was conspicuously empty. In point of fact, Fushimi was the only one who had ignored Awashima’s instruction to sleep while there was opportunity, leaving any non-emergency tasks to those outside of the Special Operations Squad.

Even with Homra on the verge of piecing themselves back into an active clan, things were likely to stay busy. If he didn’t take the opportunity to catch up with the reports that had been piling up, he’d be annoyed with himself later.

Besides that, it was unlikely that he’d be able to sleep right then.

Fushimi’s fingers stilled, though he didn’t pull them back. His mind kept taking him back to the same point in time. The moment when Misaki had looked at him without bitterness – without anger, without desperation – but with an uncharacteristic hesitance and uncertainty, as if he didn’t know where the twisted remains of their relationship stood either. Not the sparkling eyes of their early days, not the blend of fury and bitterness he’d gotten used to in those years of separation, and certainly not the dull weariness from recently. The feeling this look had stirred up was a lot like the restlessness that had been plaguing Fushimi since he’d started on this path, but far more compelling – as if all of his instincts were calling out for some action, but his brain couldn’t – or wouldn’t – comprehend what it was. The whole thing was unnerving. He didn’t want to acknowledge it.

Misaki had been lively again – maybe not quite as carefree as before, but he’d still greeted his comrades with unrestrained enthusiasm, and rather than being annoyed by that, Fushimi felt as if some huge uneasiness he’d been carrying unknowingly had settled.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure what to make of that. It was baffling, and that was making him agitated. Unconsciously, his fingers dug in a little deeper, drawing out a sharp sting.

“Fushimi.” Awashima’s crisp voice intruded on that moment of inner reflection. Fushimi looked up as she stepped across the room toward him, pulling his hand back. She raised an eyebrow at him when their eyes met. “Didn’t I tell you earlier that we’re off duty for the rest of the day?”

He clicked his tongue. “I can’t sleep when it’s this light out.”

“I see.” She crossed her arms, studying him critically. “You realize that the purpose of a break doesn’t necessarily need to be sleep?” Without waiting for an answer, she added, “Have you eaten?”

Fushimi narrowed his eyes at her, frowning back. “Have you?”

He expected a weary sigh and a reprimand of some sort, so he was surprised when her face softened into a rueful smile instead. “I suppose that’s a fair point.”

The unexpected honesty robbed him of a proper response. Fushimi hesitated for a moment, eyeing her warily. He’d worked closely with Awashima on a number of occasions, but they’d rarely spoken on a personal level. Not that he went out of his way to speak on a personal level with anyone – he hadn’t come to Scepter 4 to make friends – but Awashima was not the prying type in the first place, unlike certain others he could name. She was more than competent at what she did, possessing the ability to efficiently draw out the strengths of any given unit when the situation called for it. That fact alone made her tolerable to work with and for, despite the occasional annoyance.

At that moment, she was addressing him casually.

Somehow it put him at ease, though he wasn’t sure why. Fushimi tapped his finger on the side of his laptop, uncertain what to make of this conversation. “Did you come here for a reason or are you just checking to see if you could catch someone who snuck in to get work done?”

She raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t comment on the mild swipe he’d taken. “As a matter of fact, I came here looking for a few overdue reports.” Another wry smile. “Considering how things have been, it’s possible they were finished and not submitted.”

That was convenient, considering what he was working on – and it provided an easy way to bring this back into comfortable territory. Fushimi faced forward again, reaching out to tap the stack beside him as he eyed his laptop screen. “Tell me which ones you want, and we’ll find out how lucky you are.”

There was a brief, startled pause, and then she dutifully recited a list.

“The first, I’ve already processed.” Fushimi indicated his ‘done’ pile. “The second isn’t written yet, as far as I know – check with Kamo when he’s back. The third and fourth are in here somewhere.” He tapped his stack again. “The fifth is too, but I wouldn’t count on it being ready, since Domyoji is the one in charge of that case. Odds are, it’ll need a lot of revisions.”

Awashima made a slightly impatient noise. “I’m not sure if that boy will ever grow up,” she observed in a murmur. “Well, no matter.” Striding around the table, she pulled out the chair on the other side, opening the work laptop in front of her. “Since you’ve gathered the reports, I might as well assist you with the processing.”

Fushimi blinked at her, once again taken aback. Awashima rarely sat with them in the work room, usually busy supervising the various operations of Scepter 4 or serving as Munakata’s second under an official capacity. When he worked with her, she was more often in command of an operation for which she’d chosen to utilize his particular skillset. Processing the completed reports of the Special Operations Squad had generally been his task when he wasn’t in the field.

She raised another eyebrow at him. “I also have a vested interest in making sure this work is done, Fushimi. With two people, we’ll finish sooner.” Her other eyebrow joined the first. “Unless, of course, you have some complaint about the quality of my work?”

What kind of question is that? He clicked his tongue. “I hope you’re not expecting me to answer that.”

Her expression softened again into a smile. “I’ll let it pass this once. Here.” She lifted about half of his stack and set them beside her instead. “Let’s get started.”

The atmosphere was still and peaceful as they worked. Awashima, as it turned out, was quiet and focused, unlike several others who seemed to feel the need to fill the silence with inane chatter. The soft, rapid patter of their mingled typing kept the air from growing awkwardly stilted, and their respective stacks began to lower with an efficient speed.

He was in the process of reaching for the final report in his stack when the sound of a PDA buzzing made him pause. In the split second that it took him to confirm that it wasn't his, Awashima had pulled the device from her coat. "Sorry," she said to him, rising from her seat and moving toward the back of the room before answering. "Awashima."

There was a brief pause, and then he heard her sigh. "You could have said something earlier." Another break, and then, "So I understood. But still..." The words trailed off, and then she made a small, amused sound. "There's nothing to thank me for. Scepter 4 was protecting its own interests." Another pause, and he could hear the smile in her voice when she responded. "I intend to. Is that all?" After only a short moment, she added, "Then please give my regards to your new King. Goodbye."

Ah. Not that he couldn't have guessed who it was based on the tone, but that last bit confirmed it. "You're still trading intel even now?" he commented when she returned to her seat.

"Nothing has changed in that respect," she confirmed, without batting an eye.

Nothing, huh? Fushimi frowned at her, hesitating for just a moment before going ahead with the question that had come immediately to mind. "You and Kusanagi-san aren't soulmates, are you?"

She stared at him, obviously taken aback by his directness, and then sighed. "That's a bold question." Her voice was dry. "Well, I suppose it’s natural that something like this would come up. As a matter of fact, we don't have that kind of relationship." A corner of her mouth turned up. "Not that the possibility hasn't occurred to me."

The candid admission had him furrowing his brows. "You two have talked about it?"

"That's not necessary." Awashima shook her head, crossing her arms and leaning back in her seat. "We share something of an understanding as the second in command of two traditionally opposed clans. It would be pointless to even discuss such a thing as long as that reality remains." She offered him a small, rueful smile. "I'm sure he's as aware as I am that our compatibility may be high enough, but we have responsibilities that won't allow for it."

The simple, pragmatic explanation was strangely unsatisfying. Fushimi felt his frown deepen without knowing what it was that unsettled him. Was it that easy a decision to make, to not pursue a soulmate connection with someone who seemed like a likely match? And... traditionally opposed clans? The intricate sword mark at the back of Munakata's neck came immediately to mind as he considered that response. He wondered if she knew about it.

If it signified what he thought it did, what would her thoughts be about that connection?

As soon as that particular thought occurred to him, an insidious whisper slid up into his brain with another question: what would her thoughts have been if he'd come to Scepter 4 wearing a matching mark to Misaki's?

It was impossible, of course, but Fushimi felt his fingers twitch against the keyboard in front of him, the urge to reach up and scratch at his burned Homra mark rising, along with the same baseless urgency from before. The idea of a soulmate match with Misaki didn't bring quite the same feeling of sinking dread that it had in the past, but it came with several uncomfortable memories all the same.

Memories that weren't even necessarily uncomfortable in the same way they had been.

That’s the problem, isn’t it?

More often lately, he couldn’t keep away the thoughts he’d always been able to overwrite in the past with the memory of Misaki’s furious face. The sharp bark of Misaki’s laugh felt as real in his mind’s ear as it had been in person. He could see the inward curve of Misaki’s shoulders and back as he rubbed at the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly. The way the longer strands of his hair curled around the line of taut skin there had always made Fushimi’s fingers itch to brush it, and the play of muscle beneath Misaki’s clothing as his body moved had fascinated him more than he would’ve liked to admit. Misaki could never sit still; he was always in motion, gaze sharp and smile bright. Even when he wasn’t smiling, Fushimi could feel the energy radiating from him, and the passion lurking in the warm color of his eyes.

Even in those days, his eyes had sometimes traced the slope of Misaki’s jaw, the outline of his lips. He wanted to feel those places under his mouth and run his hands along the parts of Misaki’s body that were hidden normally.

The desire was more or less understandable, though. It was just a physical reaction, after all. It had led to more than one careless mistake, which was irritating, but at least it made sense. It was the restless feeling that accompanied it that he still couldn’t comprehend – the insistent urging that had become worse when Misaki’s energy had dimmed, gnawing at Fushimi with ferocity during the moments when he’d seen or encountered him.

There was no energy, no passion within Misaki during that time, and yet he still felt that draw of his presence. It had been easier to turn his back and walk away than to deal with it or try to sort out what it meant, but it had left with that hollow, unsatisfied feeling every single time.

Even now, he didn’t feel any urge to rile Misaki as he had before. Something had changed irrevocably, and he couldn’t put his finger on what – or how, for that matter. His only real clue – and one he would’ve liked to ignore – was that single encounter in the middle of it all when he’d been unable to still the flow of desire within himself.

It had drawn a response, he couldn’t deny that.

Fushimi clicked his tongue automatically against the pleasant shiver that overtook his body with the memory. He hadn’t wanted to stop – probably wouldn’t have if the interruption hadn’t come – and it wasn’t purely for physical reasons. It wasn’t anything to do with soulmates, either, although he suspected that was a large part of Misaki’s motivation.

As if it would’ve even gone that way in the first place…

In that moment, Misaki had seemed like he was drowning and had clung to Fushimi as if he were a lifeline. And something within him had wanted – needed – to respond to that desperation.

He wasn’t sure what that said about him. It was disturbing.

Across from him, Awashima cleared her throat; when his gaze focused on her again, she tilted her head to the side questioningly. “If you do need a break, there’s no reason to push,” she reminded him, and uncrossed her arms to indicate their two nearly-completed piles. “We’ve already made a considerable amount of progress.”

Once again, Fushimi had to appreciate her habit of not prying. “There’s no point leaving it with only this much to go,” he mumbled, attempting to shove back the confusing blend of emotions in his mind as he reached for the final report in his stack. “You can go if you want.”

“I wasn’t asking for my sake.” Even without looking, he could hear the smile in her voice again. “Let’s continue, then.”

It was strange, but somehow as the sound of typing filled the silence between them again, the afternoon sun gradually darkening into twilight as it poured in through the tall windows, Fushimi felt a comfortable feeling spreading across his entire body. For the first time in a long while, that restless urging at the back of his thoughts had stilled, and he had a sense of peace.

He didn’t really know what to make of that either, so he pushed it from his thoughts and bent his attention to the work at hand.

The sound of Anna’s soft footsteps as she went up to her room for the night was the only noise in Bar Homra during that moment, but Yata found he didn’t mind the silence that much. In the bar they’d just reopened, with the light buzz of his first taste of alcohol warming his body, he felt comfortable.

It was enough to make the smile on his face widen, eyes shutting with contentment.

Homra was back together, and he wasn’t alone anymore. That alone was enough for him, but he didn’t think he’d ever shake the weight of what had happened. His initial thought when their clan had reformed was that the empty feeling from before would be gone and he’d never have to worry about it again, but that hadn’t exactly been the case. There was a lot to think about. Anna had given them all hope – and a place to belong once again – but it didn’t erase the heavy sense of something irreplaceable being gone. He still felt the grief pulsing strongly at the back of his mind, and couldn’t quite rid himself of the guilt for all the things he hadn’t done.

That emptiness was a faded threat in his soul, a scar that wouldn’t quite heal.

Yata figured it was his reminder that there was more to be feared in life than enemies. That period in his life when he thought he’d lost everything wasn’t something he was about to forget. He was going to do his best this time not to have any regrets. If he at least tried to understand the important people around him better, there wouldn’t be so much disconnect between him and them.

A recent memory flared up behind his closed eyelids – Saruhiko, with his impassive frown, turning his face away as Yata fumbled for words to express his gratitude. It came with the distant throb of an old ache, different from before.

That guy’s kind of a special case, huh?

“Something on your mind, Yata-chan?” Kusanagi’s voice cut into his thoughts; when he opened his eyes again, his older friend was giving him a small smile. “You can go if you want. Not that I mind the company.” There was a bit of a wistful edge in his gaze. “Tell you the truth, it feels a bit different in here now.”

Without Mikoto and Totsuka around, Yata’s mind instantly supplied, and he felt something clench a little within him. It wasn’t the all-encompassing grief from before, but… Hell, he didn’t think it’d ever be entirely gone. Looking up at Kusanagi’s face, he was pretty sure he wasn’t alone in that respect.

Trying to understand the important people… It didn’t have to be just Anna.

Swallowing against the remains of that ache, Yata leaned forward on the bar counter, elbows resting on the surface. “Kusanagi-san,” he started, feeling a bit awkward about it but determined to press onward. “Y’know, there’s something I’ve been kinda meaning to say – or, uh, I mean apologize for…” He shifted his weight to reach up with one hand and scratch at the back of his head. “How should I put this…?”

“Ah.” Kusanagi’s smile became more of a grimace. “Yata-chan, there’s no need to apologize – ”

“No, I gotta say this!” Lowering his hand, Yata leaned forward, meeting Kusanagi’s mildly startled gaze squarely. “Just hear me out, okay? Please!”

The grimace relaxed into a more serious expression. “All right.” Kusanagi leaned against the bar on his side, his gaze intent. “I’m listening.”

“About… that time…” Despite his resolve, it still felt awkward. Yata resisted the urge to lower his face, determined to face this head on. “When you told us you were closing the bar... I lost it. Those – those things I said, back then… I didn’t mean it. I was upset. But that’s not an excuse!” On the counter, he balled his hands into loose fists. “Kusanagi-san… I’m sorry! Really, truly sorry!”

At that he did bow his head, residual shame flowing through his body in waves. “I expected you to be a certain way all the time, just for my own sake.” He swallowed down the lump that had risen at the back of his throat, forcing himself to continue. “When you weren't what I wanted, I lashed out. It was selfish of me. I... really, I'm sorry."

There was a significant pause. Yata found himself trembling with emotion, tense as he waited for a reaction to his words.

Finally, Kusanagi heaved a sigh. “When you say things like that, you really sound like an adult now, Yata-chan,” he remarked. There was something weary in his tone. “Still… you don’t need to bow your head. After all, you weren’t the only one making mistakes that day.”

He hadn’t expected that. Yata jerked his head up, surprised, and found himself the subject of a rueful, slightly pained look. “I have an apology of my own to make,” Kusanagi admitted, once their eyes met. “Truth is, I lashed out at you too. I could write it off by saying I was grieving just like you were, but I’m the one who’s supposed to be the adult here.” He shut his eyes briefly. “I’ve had time to think it over, and it wasn’t fair of me. How pathetic, huh?” That came with a slight scoff, but when he opened his eyes again, his gaze was still serious. “I’m sorry for it, Yata. Sometimes I forget… we were both there, after all.”

The unexpectedly subdued tone had that aching lump rising at the back of Yata’s throat again. “Kusanagi-san…” Even as he felt something tense within him start to give with the return apology, the fresh reminder of their shared experience had him swallowing hard. In that moment of raw honesty, he felt open enough to offer a low, pained, “I still dream about it sometimes.”

“Yeah.” Kusanagi sighed again, straightening. His eyes were distant. “So do I.”

It didn’t feel like there was anything else to be said. The moment of silence that stretched out following that affirmation felt thick with remembrance and grief.

Somehow, there was something freeing in that shared understanding, too. Yata reached up to rub the moisture from the corners of his eyes roughly, managing a soft huff of a laugh. “Things got weird, huh? My bad.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Kusanagi eased back from the counter, offering a small sideways smile. “It’s not so bad to have moments like this once in a while.”

“Got that right!” Yata grinned back at him roughly, and then slumped forward with an exaggerated motion. “Man, I’m glad I got that off my chest! It’s something I really regretted, y’know?”

“I know how you feel,” Kusanagi agreed, with a bit of humor. “Though… one other thing I regret is not having a chance to be open with you – not just you, Yata-chan, but everyone else, too.” His smile turned rueful. “I had reasons – and it’s not that they weren’t valid, but given the way things turned out, it seems it just caused unnecessary grief in the end. Can’t promise I’ll break the habit, but I’ll try to trust you in the future.” Their eyes met again, and the smile widened a bit. “Try to keep your head if you can – I’ll be relying on you.”

Yata couldn’t help but perk up at that, straightening in his seat with pride. “Leave it to me!” He thumped his fist against his chest enthusiastically. “I’ve already pledged my life to Anna and Homra – I’ll give it my all! And I won’t let you down!”

If anything, he expected a smile and fond agreement, so it was a bit surprising when Kusanagi gave him a serious look instead. “Let me share something with you, Yata – one adult to another.” He leaned forward, bracing both hands on the counter so they were closer to being eye to eye. “Never pledge your entire life to anything. In Homra’s case, you’ll always be our Yatagarasu. But don’t forget that’s only a part of who you are as a whole. If you haven’t yet, you should start thinking about what kind of man you want to be – and what steps you can take to start getting there.”

Yata blinked at him, taken aback. “Only a part…?” It seemed unreal to look at it that way. The idea of thinking beyond Homra – beyond being Yatagarasu – wasn’t something he’d thought about. When Homra wasn’t in his life, there hadn’t been anything – just that endless, consuming emptiness. Didn’t that mean there really wasn’t anything else for him?

Somehow, that thought was… kinda scary.

Well, there was one thing… Not that he wanted to think about it, but he still kept coming back to it, as fixated as he had been from the start. That one stupid, painful, traitorous bit of hope he’d let himself fall back on – the retreat to his younger years, when all he’d wanted or needed was to be Saruhiko’s soulmate.

No point thinking about that. Yata curled his fingers into loose fists, trying not to scowl. It wasn’t like he could help it. All it took was looking into Saruhiko’s eyes, catching a hint of that mingled wariness and intensity, and he was lost. Even now, he shivered a little just thinking about it. Saruhiko’s mouth on his, warm and eager; Saruhiko’s hands on his body, mapping every crevice as if he wanted to commit them to memory. And then there was Saruhiko himself in the circle of Yata’s arms, the excitement of being able to feel the press and pliancy of that familiar thin frame against him as he held tight stirring to life within him and clouding any chance of reason. He’d thought about it a lot since. Couldn’t help it.

That guy’s not easy to forget. Even with so much reason to do so, Yata just couldn’t.

It kinda didn’t help that some time while everyone was apart, Kousuke and Eric had picked up a pair of deep brown, perfectly matched paw print marks on their opposing shoulders. He was happy for them of course, but still, sometimes…

Well, okay, he was jealous. That was normal, though. Right?

Pushing that thought – and the bitterness that came with it – down, Yata summoned up a sheepish grin in response to the conversation. “Not sure if I really get it, but…” He still had his resolve, and he wasn’t gonna back down from that. No room for doubts now. “Y’know, I wanna be someone who my important people can rely on.”

And if he was being selfish… also someone they wouldn’t want to leave behind. But he wasn’t gonna say it.

“That so?” Kusanagi smiled back, straightening again. “Well, maybe try to keep that thought at the back of your mind anyway. You might find other pieces of the answer coming to you here and there.”

“Uh, right. Got it.” Honestly, he still wasn’t sure if he totally got it, but he didn’t have to think about it right away. Yata frowned a bit. His earlier thoughts had kicked something else loose from the back of his mind. “By the way, Kusanagi-san… Can I ask you something? It’s about Mikoto-san.”

Kusanagi gave him a questioning look. “What’s on your mind?”

He’d been wondering about it for the longest time now – and he did want to try and understand his original King, as best he could despite everything. “Did he…? I mean, Totsuka-san wasn’t just teasing me way back then about the soulmate thing, right? Mikoto-san really did have one, didn’t he?”

“Ah…” At that, Kusanagi looked a bit pained. “Yeah,” he admitted, after a second’s hesitation. “He did.”

He did. Those words felt like they buzzed through Yata’s brain. He leaned forward, anxious to find out more. “So then, why…?” Suddenly unsure of how to word the confusion coursing through him, he stopped there, eyebrows bunching together.

Why wouldn’t he say anything? Why’d we never meet this person? Shouldn’t it have been awesome, finding a soulmate match?

Shouldn’t it have fixed things? Made it better, even… even when…

Kusanagi seemed to pick up on most of his uncertainty without the words coming out. “Why wasn’t it a celebration, you mean? Why didn’t that person intervene or magically fix things in the end?” He sighed heavily, looking away, and muttered almost to himself, “Well, in a way that person did intervene…”

Yata stared at him, more confused than ever. “Huh?”

“Never mind.” Kusanagi shook his head, not quite meeting Yata’s gaze. His expression was unreadable. “I don’t think it’d do you much good to know the person, but I will say this much…” When their eyes met again, his gaze was serious. “It wasn’t a match that could have worked in the long run, given the circumstances.”

The words didn’t sink in immediately. A match that couldn’t have worked… Yata frowned back, unable to reconcile that with what he’d always known. “But… if they were soulmates…”

“Yata-chan…” Kusanagi shot him a glance that was almost pitying. “That doesn’t really mean much, you know. It tells you something, sure, but it doesn’t change your relationships for you or fix any problems with them.” He shrugged. “In the end, they’re just a set of marks, after all.”

Yata jerked upright in his seat, shocked. “What are you saying, Kusanagi-san?” Just a set of marks? The words were a blow to one of his most closely held ideals. “Isn’t finding your soulmate the best thing that could happen to you? How could it be just a set of marks?” Carried away in his passion on the subject, he demanded, “What about Kousuke and Eric? You’re saying they’re nothing but a set of marks?”

That earned him a sigh, and Kusanagi briefly shut his eyes. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Yata. I never said it was a bad thing.” He looked wry when he opened his eyes again. “Let me ask you this, then: d’you think Kousuke and Eric treat each other different, now that they have those marks?”

It wasn’t a question he’d expected. Yata blinked, hastily scanning back through his memory. “Eh… well…”

Kusanagi didn’t wait for him to collect himself. “You think they didn’t care about each other as much as they do now, that it?”

“Ah…” The answer to that was obvious. “No, but – ”

“But,” Kusanagi continued relentlessly, “you’re okay with saying all that care and effort and consideration doesn’t make a difference, right? Just the fact that they’re soulmates?”

It was hard to argue when he put it like that. Yata frowned back, his mind working fast to try and process the contradictions. The words resonated, but it was hard to try and piece together why or what it meant for him. “That’s not,” he started, and then paused, frustrated. “I mean…”

Kusanagi gave him a second, then shook his head when nothing else came, a rueful smile forming. “I’m not trying to bully you here, Yata-chan. If anything, I’d like to see you think these things through on your own and see what you come up with – even if we end up disagreeing in the end. Just challenge yourself.” With that, his gaze took on a knowing look. “Maybe you’ll find some answers. Or closure.”

That hit uncomfortably close to home. Yata squirmed in his seat, warmth prickling across his face. “Y-yeah, well…” He reached up to rub at the back of his neck. “I-I’ll think about it. Thanks.”

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure any more if there would be an opportunity to find answers when it came to Saruhiko. Or closure, for that matter. He only knew that he wanted to, desperately, somewhere deep down that he didn’t like to acknowledge openly. There was still the burning hope within him that he was right, they really were soulmates, and once Saruhiko realized, he’d see what a mistake he’d made and explain everything. And then they could move on.

After everything, now he was finally starting to realize that he might have to work on accepting that he’d never find out for sure. And that moving on might mean doing it by himself.

Having gone through so much aching loneliness, the thought should’ve scared him. But somehow, despite everything, it really didn’t. Mostly, Yata was just confused. And maybe a bit lost. He didn’t know where to start with this crap yet.

Nothing else to do but move forward and try his best, really.

Kusanagi offered him a grin, as if guessing what was going through his head. “Any time.”

#k project #sarumi #yata misaki #fushimi saruhiko #fanfic #fanfic:mine

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sky-scribbles · 8 years

Text

Introducing Elera!

I finally made it through Origins and DA2 again, and arrived at Inquisition. I’ve already talked a little bit about Elera Lavellan, my new Blackwall-mancing Inquisitor (because I’m weird and I create character concepts months before the actual character), but now she finally exists in her own save slot, I think it’s time to introduce her properly.

Here’s what my new gal looks like:

And here are eight facts about her:

1. My first idea for Elera was that she would be blind, having lost her eyesight in childhood. I was researching ideas for how this might have happened, and learned that people with albinism often have highly sensitive eyes which are prone to visibility problems. ‘Hey, I could make an elven tradition!’ I said to myself, because I talk to myself and am strange. ‘Maybe albino elves are seen as marked by Ghilan’nain – they are pale as halla, Ghilan’nain’s sacred creatures, but they are also prone to visual impairment, and Ghilan’nain was transformed into a halla by Andruil after being blinded.'

So Elera has albinism, which has led her to suffer retinal damage. Perhaps her outdoor Dalish lifestyle exposed her to the sun so much that she just gradually lost her eyesight over time, or maybe some magical accident happened that a regular person could have recovered from, but was the nail in the coffin for her sensitive eyes… maybe a combination of both. In any case, she is unable to see – at least in the waking world.

2. Elera is a Dreamer, like Solas and Feynriel. (I know they’re rare and that the ‘magical albino’ trope is done to death, but the concept fascinates me so much I couldn’t resist making a Dreamer OC.) Because only Elera’s physical body is blind, she can see in the Fade, and considers it as real as the physical realm. After her eyesight failed, Elera - filled with despair and convinced that she could not serve her clan without sight - was ready to give up. But mere days later, she found herself walking within the Fade, where a Spirit of Hope was drawn to her, seeking to help her recover from her despair. The two formed a friendship, Elera realised she had magic, and the Keeper took her on as her First. Since Elera can enter the Fade at will, being a Dreamer, I headcanon that she occasionally goes into trances in order to seek guidance from Hope.

3. Since they share many things – a race, the Dreaming talent, a fascination with the Fade and spirits - Solas and Elera are very close friends. She sees him as too much like a Dalish hahren to have any romantic interest in him, but they spend a lot of time discussing magic and elven culture, and they go for walks in the Fade in which Solas introduces her to some of his spirit friends. (Some mild worry will ensue from Blackwall, who Elera very much does have an interest in, but who will briefly be given to think that there's something between Elera and Solas. It’ll all be sorted out before long, and Solas will act rather like a protective big brother, giving Blackwall the whole ‘don’t break her heart’ speech. Like you can talk, you lying egg god…)

(Rest under the cut for length.)

4. Elera wears the vallaslin of Ghilan’nain (see fact 1 for why.) A deity of guidance is a fitting patron for a blind elf. But despite her belief in the Creators, Elera happily identifies as the Herald of Andraste, and not just for practical purposes. She sees herself as a second Shartan, allying herself with humans in order to create a better way of life for the elves. At first she wonders if a spirit somehow took on Andraste's form and memories and chose her; when she finds out the truth, she isn't all that troubled. Chosen or not, the world needs a new Shartan, and it might as well be her.

5. Elera’s relationship with Sera is proving interesting. At first I thought they wouldn’t get on at all, what with Elera being an ‘elfy elf’ and with Sera’s hatred of creepy Fade magic. But while she strongly disagrees with Sera’s attitude, Elera is fascinated by Sera - perhaps because she wants to know what exactly an elf can be when they forsake everything about the culture. Despite their unlikely friendship, they will have a blazing argument after the Temple of Mythal... but if I finally become able to play Trespasser, it's possible they'll talk through their issues then and become much closer, with Sera supporting Elera through her inevitable crisis of faith.

6. Elera sees it as her duty to remain calm and collected, and to make sure her blindness doesn’t become too much of a burden on the people around her. Behind this cool exterior, however, she does often feel rather vulnerable, and taxed by the effort of coping with both her disability and her responsibilities while never complaining. This is partly why she’ll find the solid and dependable presence of Blackwall rather comforting. Blackwall, meanwhile, finds her capable nature in the face of her problems rather inspiring – and when she tells him about her initial struggle to accept her lot in life, he’ll feel encouraged to hope that he might be able to move on from despair, too… *cue romantic music*

7. Being blind has, naturally, encouraged Elera to make use of her other senses as much as possible, and she has discovered that she’s a very good listener. She's a good singer, able to pick up and follow a tune with ease, she takes note of spoken details others would miss, and she can imitate people’s voices very well – in fact, she has a naturally Dalish accent like Solas’s or Merrill’s, but while around humans she likes to affect a human accent so as to make them feel more comfortable (and because she enjoys it.) It was also why she was sent to spy on the Conclave, since the Keeper knew she’d hear and remember every detail.

8. But naturally, a blind woman couldn’t go alone. Elera was accompanied by her best friend, Merron. He was an easygoing and cheerful elf who was never the strongest or fastest hunter – but he was very good at looking after Elera and acting as her eyes. When she became First, he saw it as an opportunity. He was mocked for being a mediocre hunter, but if he was bodyguard and helper to the Keeper, he would have status and purpose within the clan. Since they were inseparable, they were sent to the Conclave together – where Merron sadly perished. This was what made Elera convinced she needed to stay and help the Inquisition; she intends to find out why her best friend was murdered. Corypheus better watch out - there's a tiny blind elf lady out there who is very angry, and she's coming to kick his ass.

If you have any questions about Elera, please throw ‘em at me! She still needs plenty of fleshing out. :)

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #blackwall x lavellan #oc: elera lavellan

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