#there's a sort of fondness between the characters that makes them more vibrant and they feel quite real IMO

[ageless-aislynn]

I would watch an entire series about these three, ZOMG! I love how you can get the gist of what they’re saying even without the captions (but turn the CC on to read the English translation anyway, lol). As people were saying in the comments, in the game cutscenes, you get the feeling that the various species just barely tolerate each other but here, I think you see something more “realistic.” The Jackal being all casually “Hello!” and then sprawling over backwards to see the Elite’s shot, plus the Grunt just plopping down and swinging his feet, asking what they’re looking at...

I love it! 😍👍💖

[columboscreens]

for the new episodes what are your top 10 favorites?

what really constitutes a good reboot columbo for me is mostly how much it captures the spirit of the original run while still being true to its time and true to the character. if i watch it back and wish they'd made it 20 years prior, i consider it a solid romp.

that said, almost all of them are bloated and overlong. much to the detriment of the show's quality, ABC really preferred 120 minute runtimes to the original default runtime of 70 minutes. the ones i list here suffer least.

without further ado, if you're going to watch columbo in the clinton years, here are

COLUMBOSCREENS' TOP 10 COLUMBO REBOOT EPISODES

10. death hits the jackpot: low budget and absolutely ridiculous. columbo gets his badge stolen by a chimp. it's a blatant and far less clever rendition of greenhouse jungle. that said, rip torn kills it, and seeing him go head-to-head against columbo makes it worth watching. also the series' only halloween episode!

9. caution: murder can be hazardous to your health: george hamilton puts on his murdering hat once again as some sort of homicidal john walsh in an entertaining lampoon of america's most wanted. not the strongest episode, but plenty of fun. one thing i do prefer about the later episodes in general is that they're far more diverse; in this episode we're treated to the villain's primary staffer being a young, vibrant black woman with a prominent speaking role. as pictured above, columbo wanders into a sex shop and utters the word "porno". make of it what you will.

8. ashes to ashes: kind of dull, very bloated, and overly silly, with a whimsical sprinkle of ethnic stereotyping. however, watching patrick mcgoohan slaughter rue mcclanahan with a Mortuary Baton is rather fun in a surreal way. the typical chemistry between the two leads is there in spades. we get to see columbo get kidnapped, cringe at a bad funeral medley, and receive an estimate as to what he'll look like once cremated. overall a reasonably enjoyable watch.

7. sex and the married detective: lots of people have mixed feelings on this one, including myself, but i like it more than i don't. i love seeing the series boldly confront sex in a more open era. it's oddly intimate, and seeing columbo initially flustered at the sexual openness of his female adversary is pretty endearing! his rapport with this murderer is very enjoyable to watch, and i truly love that final scene where they're just conversing frankly by an open fire. for some reason columbo hurls himself onto a big ornate orgy bed when he's sure nobody is looking. honestly, aside from the cringey tuba march and the weird scene where he's yelling and going bananas at the russian cleaning lady, i thoroughly enjoy this episode.

6. agenda for murder: once again mcgoohan shines in this episode, and as he's the sun to falk's moon, so does our leading man. the chemistry between these two is in full force and really makes this plot, largely a frankenstein of like three different columbos, seem fresh and new. there are a few eyebrow-raising plot holes--surely a lawyer and political actor of his stature would know who columbo is--and while bite marks remain legally admissable in court, today they're widely acknowledged to be of dubious veracity in terms of evidence. but this episode's murderer catches on to the whole thing rather quickly, and if you really just want an episode that feels like a good old fashioned columbo, look no further. i also just love watching columbo peck away at computers and fax machines.

5. it's all in the game: many dislike this one, but i’m particularly fond of it because it examines the fabric of columbo’s character in a meaningful, intimate, and unique way that we don’t often see as the audience, and i love episodes like that. the emmy-winning performance by faye dunaway almost goes without saying and adds rewatchability points; her chemistry with falk really emulsifies the script and makes the story believable. for once, his usual rhetoric doesn’t really get him anywhere with a suave little minx trying to kiss him into submission every five minutes–especially considering his lack of concrete proof for most of the case. thus, he has no choice but to play her game to get what he wants, letting her believe that her wiles are working to save her a prison stint, all while remaining professional and unwavering in pursuit of his true goal. what makes it interesting is that for the first time there appears to be a real mixture of business with pleasure, a real, visible struggle with his feelings and the nature of what he’s doing. could've been a little less on the nose and i could always do without the swells of music telling me how to feel, but that's a critique for almost every episode in this era.

4. rest in peace mrs. columbo: a solid and compelling story that strays from the beaten path and actually works, arriving from a natural curiosity about the consequences of columbo's ostentatious takedowns. if some smug little dwarf of a cop threw your loved one's ass in jail, wouldn't you want to knock him down a peg by poisoning his wife? the second half of this episode ramps up exceptionally well--we see firsthand the lengths to which the lieutenant is willing to go for the mrs., and to me, that alone is worth the watch. the restaurant exchange with roscoe lee brown is phenomenal, helen shaver is outstanding, and this episode’s gotcha is, to me, one of the best in the series, period.

3. columbo likes the nightlife: lots of people aren't a fan of this one, but i love this episode because it truly harks back to the older run after a string of hard to watch outings in the 90s where columbo acts painfully cartoonish. even the aspect ratio is a return to form! this comparatively grittier and more down to earth story whips falk back into shape, even as he's clearly approaching retirement. i love his weird old man behavior, digging in toilets and manhandling corpses. moreover, i have a big soft spot for all the trappings of the early aughts: bluehaired alt girls with hot topic fishnets and livejournals, techno warehouse raves, and steve schrippa.

2. columbo cries wolf: the script is definitely a little weak in some spots, and doesn't seem quite as intelligently written as much of the original run. that said, this episode is one of my favorites because of how much of a straight-up blast it is to watch. it's not only total 80s eye candy--columbo smokes pensively in a helicopter above LA, then goes to the mall in a corinthian leather-clad limo surrounded by a bunch of big-haired sex nymphs--the plot itself is actually solid. ian buchanan, as a prelude to his twin peaks performance, is deliciously smarmy. the runtime is filled well for the most part, and falk is in top form. this episode has a special place in my heart because it's the only time we see columbo wholly and very publicly thwarted, albeit temporarily, and it's only because he's simply unacquainted with the level of media brain rot necessary to even conceive of the scheme that entraps him. and i find that beautiful.

last but not least................................

1. columbo goes to college: god, i love this episode. you'll notice this one regularly tops other people's lists, and i'm no exception. not only does falk totally nail columbo, the plot is interesting, tightly-written, and the episode doesn't suffer from being as long as it is. columbo squaring off against two 90s-flavored Whatever Talk To The Hand I'll Just Use My Dad's Credit Card spoiled young assholes was a marvelous idea, and theyre written well to boot. the two leads do a fantastic job, we get a bobby culp cameo, and the production is a smashing success. practically 70s-tier.

so there you have it. honestly, most of the reboots are decent tv to watch, and all of them have scenes worth seeing. but if you're looking for episodes that at least approach the caliber of classic columbo, these are the ones i keep in my pocket.

[astaroth1357]

More undateables with a demigod hades mc???

By request, have yourself a part two!! 

Demigod MC Series: Hades Pt. 2 (Un)Dateables Edition!

I will ask that y’all please don't ask for continuations of other gods unless I say it’s okay to do again. This series already fills my inbox something fierce and this is a one-off that I allowed for during the request window.  If I have to make ideas for new gods while continuing a bunch of old MCs, it'll burn me out fast...

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena, Hades Pt. 2

Diavolo

Oh, he has no problem at all hosting a child of the Underworld, hell he even throws them a welcome banquet when he finds out! Hades is a dear friend - and practically a parental figure to him growing up - so he's more than happy to take in one of his children for a year.

Diavolo is actually one of the few people that the MC can talk to about their home with any kind of fondness. Usually when they bring up things like the comforting wailing of the River Coctyus, the brothers will give them weird looks... but Diavolo knows where they're coming from!

He spent numerous summers in the Underworld growing up doing things like pestering Charon on the River Styx or playing games with Cerberus (the other one) in the Asphodel Meadows... His beach house is actually modeled after his childhood summer home in the Isles of Paradise! Really, it can be a lovely place if the gloom doesn't bother you!

So in the spirit of his fond memories, Diavolo really tried to make their time in the Devildom a fun one!... in his maybe trying a little too hard way…  

Poor MC found themselves offered pretty much everything under the moon… Tickets or exclusive passes to different cultural events/festivals, invitations to gala events, and tours of nearly every inch of Hell by the Prince himself - it was… it was a lot for the poor introverted thing…

It didn’t help that Diavolo would have a hard time gauging if they were having any fun due to their naturally melancholic nature, which only pushed him to try harder… He means well, he does. He’s just not the most in touch with what would make an anti-social doom child happy...

It took Barbatos and Lucifer stepping in for the mortal to actually start getting some much needed space and that improved their experience significantly. Sometimes less is more, Dia… Less is more. But they appreciate his efforts anyway.

Barbatos 

Also has a pretty amicable relationship with the Ruler of the Underworld, though his is much more professional compared to Diavolo’s. He actually has a good deal of appreciation for the man for taking good care of the Prince during his visits, so he sees this as an opportunity to return the favor.

Like Diavolo, he’s rather focused on making sure the MC is having a good stay in the Devildom, but he’s much more subtle about it. He’ll come by the House often to check up on them and make sure everything is to their liking... 

Even the brothers notice that he treats them like anothering visiting Lord/Lady in that way, which he would argue they very much are and should be respected as one. It’s the least the Devildom can offer their father at this point.

His visits may also be an excuse for keeping an eye on the brothers to make sure they don’t do anything to inconvenience their “young guest…” To be honest, the entire House is a little paranoid about that… Nobody wants to know the punishment for hurting MC if Barbs is the one dishing it out...

Apart from watching out for them, Barbatos tries to encourage the MC to accept the Young Lord’s gifts (while also actively advising Diavolo to go easier on them at the same time). It would be so disheartening to him if his Prince feels like he hasn’t offered them the best experience that he could… He’s sure they understand.

Any time that he invites the MC to tea, they usually end up talking about their father in some way. Barbs knows a surprising amount about the god… He’s been around about as long as Chronos - preceding the birth of Aether and Chaos themselves - so he has some stories to tell.

The MC did once ask him why he doesn’t just run everything if he’s really been around for so long... his answer was: “Kings and their kingdoms will rise and fall… Worlds upon worlds are born, then cease to be. But time is what brings about all changes… So, I think I’m perfectly content with the power I possess. Wouldn’t you be?” 

Annnd they never asked Barbs another question like that again… and people think death is scary… 

Simeon 

He was honestly a little worried for their new companion for quite a while… It’s not like there’s never any sadness in the Celestial Realm or anything, but they seem to have something else entirely…

He’s heard stories about the Underworld. He’s never been himself, that’s usually a job for the Seraphim due to the… dreary nature of the place - but he’s heard it would make the Devildom look downright festive…

If he were being honest, he had half expected the MC to be obsessed with skeletons, ghosts, and other elements of darkness but that wasn’t the case. They certainly knew a lot about those things, but they appeared to have a healthy interest in the afterlife in general, so they asked him a lot of questions about the Celestial Realm, angels, and how the souls of the blessed are treated up there… It was surprising to say the least.

Of course he did the same and, frankly, Simeon found it incredibly wasteful that so many Greek followers find themselves just wasting away in a field of nothing for so long… but that’s neither here nor there.

He was also surprised by how gentle of an influence the MC ended up being on Luke as well. He had always suspected that the little angel just needed a bridge between him and Devildom to start finding appreciation for it, and the MC fit that bill perfectly - nothing he was used to, but still approachable enough to make everything less frightening. He thanks them a great deal for that… but...

It’s just that… Well they’re just so… depressing sometimes…! He doesn’t want to blame them because it hardly seems like their fault! They’re a very kind person, it’s just an atmosphere around them… It brings him to tears if he isn’t careful…

He’s invited the MC to Purgatory Hall on multiple occasions to chat and try to make them smile… When they do, the gloom is dispelled - even just a little - and they’re a truly beautiful creature regardless. It’s just so unfortunate that their life brings so much sadness...

Even so, he actually likes the MC enough to consider basing a character on them if he ever wrote another book. Something about a gloomy but sweet protagonist at home in a world of darkness sounds appealing… doesn’t it?

Luke

He didn’t know how to feel about the MC when they met. At first, he actually thought they were just as unhappy as he was to be there due to how depressed they looked but when they told him that wasn't true, he was really confused...

The Devildom is a dark, brutish, and dangerous place. Why would anyone feel at home down here??

But… well… He would spend time with them at RAD between breaks (partially to help scare off their many, many demonic suitors) and it might be weird to say, but they really made the Devildom look beautiful… literally.

The world just looks better when they’re around! It’s really hard to describe because it’s not something you notice much until they leave, but when the MC is around everything looks more vibrant and inviting! The grass gets greener, flowers grow bigger, and butterflies/birds hover around wherever they are like they have their own gravity - the realm loves them!

It started getting hard for Luke to hang onto his disdain for the place when they made it look so appealing… And then they started talking to him about the Underworld and the creatures they’d befriended there… creatures a lot worse than any demons he’d seen there...

Like. If the MC can be good friends with a bunch of rude walking corpses, then he could probably make friends with a demon right? There’s nice ones… kind of… 

Beel. He can make friends with Beel.

Like Simeon, he does feel bad that they seem so sad all the time… but unlike the older angel, he’s a bit more understanding that this is just how they are and enjoys his time with them regardless. (It helps a lot that just being around this little bean of a boy can lift their spirits anyway).

And you know what’s even better for him? When Lord Diavolo gives the MC tickets to things that they don’t want to go to, sometimes they’ll invite him along or give them to him instead! 

He’s gone to the Devil’s Coast with MC and Simeon sooo many times by now and he loves it!! Maybe the Devildom isn’t so bad after all, I mean, it can be a lot of fun when you go to the right places, anyway.

Solomon

Oh, he finds them both deeply fascinating and utterly terrifying - so just his sort of test sub-er, person!

He kids (somewhat), Solomon isn’t that dumb/lacking in self-preservation instinct. Experimenting on a child of death in a land of the dead (even if it’s not their “home turf”) would be asking for trouble. They’d have more than enough ammunition to fight him off and if their father found out? Immortality wouldn’t even begin to save him...

That being said, questions aren’t necessarily experiments… and oh boy, does he have a lot of them.

If the MC isn’t being pestered by Diavolo or the brothers, then they’re probably having to put up with Solomon nipping at their heels trying to get them to use their powers or answer all sorts of “innocent” scientific questions…

“MC, reanimation of Greek dead requires a blood offering, correct? Do you have to sacrifice animals for that process or do you allow them to feast on your own?”

“MC, when you’re controlling a skeleton do you move the body as a whole or do you have to animate each individual bone due to their lack of ligaments?”

“Think fast!! Oh look, you just caught the skull of my good friend, Richard! Could you bring him back from that, or should I fetch the rest of him?” 🙂

They put up with it because, believe it or not, he’s not nearly the weirdest person they’ve ever met (a lot of crazy people drift in and out of the land of the dead…) and well… they’re a pretty lonely person too so it’s not like they have a lot of standards when it comes to friendships anyway.

But the second they breathe a word of this to Barbs or Diavolo, this boy is on his way to a royal restraining order… Where does he even get those skulls…?

[magpie-of-a-birb]

If yall are on this blog, I'm sure you've seen the "top five sexiest/unsexiest sortings" ask meme going around a while ago. My dear friend @nounsnlies came up with another idea and I had to make it exist. So, without further ado-

What I love about each sorting

Spoiler alert: you are going to be hearing a lot of "like magic" and "teach me your ways." This is to be expected. Yall are awesome.

(Also, some are longer than others. I'm sorry if I didn't give your sorting as much love, I don't understand yall as well as I do the others (or as well as I wish I understood you))

Double lion: you guys just,,, do things??? You literally just do things. You see a thing, you know you're gonna do it, and then you actually go out and do it until it's done. Literally how. Teach me your ways. Please.

Lion bird: lion bird, oh lion bird. My belovedly detested. When will you stop plaguing my wips with hoards of characters that I thought were literally any other sorting? Jokes about me over-writing my own sorting aside, I love you guys. I get really excited when characters outside of my writing & actual people house-match with me. You guys are the mom-friends with the craziest shit at your disposal that you will use for those you love in a heartbeat. If someone you love - or even just someone that it's Right to help - needs your help, you are doing whatever you can. If you don't have anything that can help, then by God you're gonna find someone who does or learn how to do something new, yourself.

Lion badger: just, so grounded. So stable. Probably one of the most stable sortings. You know your Right and Wrong and you're able to work at the Right to fix the Wrong. When well-spoken, you guys tend to have the energy of walking into a situation and serenely going "okay this is what's going on," and explain everything in a way that's really understandable. I aspire to have a mask like that someday.

Lion snake: you guys are so bright and vibrant and playful and passionate. You guys aren't sunshine in the way that a badger secondary is, but you are the sun, absolutely full of energy and life. Even when things aren't going well and you're in a low-state, there's still that thrum of fire pulsing underneath.

Bird lion: when you guys act, you tend to know why. You're able to explain it, and there's something about "I am charging into this wall until it breaks, and I will tell you why it makes sense" that is so comforting. You guys are the ones who hear a proverb about taking action, think it over, reword it, and then make it your own. As put by Susan Schorn (author of Smile at Strangers, and someone with major bird lion vibes):

Double bird: double birds, my beloved. I love the versatility that you guys bring to the table, your love of your passions, your obvious pride in your hoards, your eagerness to explain yourself and sometimes parts of your systems, and, yes, your mad-scientist-leaning curious/chaotic energies. Yes, you guys may not have the consistent groundedness of a badger secondary or the undertone of energy of a snake secondary, but you guys play to both better than most other sortings and the shift between them that you guys do can be felt so clearly and - even as a birdsec that probably does that to some degree, myself - it is magic.

Bird badger: kinda in the same vein as double lions - yall are able to decide to do a thing and just,,, work at it? It's like magic. I don't even get it. Also, your patience when doing something you're invested in is to die for. Literally how. How do you not lose interest. Teach me your ways.

Bird snake: anyone who's been on my blog long enough will know that I have a particular fondness for this sort. Like lion snakes, there's a thrum of energy underneath, but unlike lion snakes, it's less of an energy and more of a sense of the person, so to speak. It's like whatever way you're expressing yourself to us, no matter how twisty and mp snakey you're getting, the core of who you are is still felt, even if it's unnamable and impossible to pin down. And you guys are just,,, so observant, so thoughtful, so well-spoken when you choose to speak. When there's something I'm trying to work out, like a situation or a moral dilemma, you guys are almost always one of my first choices to go to. Because of all the things I said before and how they all compile into how you are when someone reaches out for that sort of help. (The bird primary having already done the work and being able to explain reasoning is also up there).

Badger lion: probably the sorting I'm least familiar with outside of fiction, honestly. But yall are probably the first ones ready to throw hands for someone. I respect both that and how vocally supportive you are of those around you.

Badger bird: yall are so passionate about the things you're into. I know that can be said for basically anyone and even more so for anyone with a bird secondary, but you guys light up like sunshine, and I can't help it, yall are adorable. Also the fact that almost everything that you collect is freely shared when needed. You guys have your hoards and you will use them to make life better for people and that is a threat (from you. You're threating to make everyone's lives better. I'd never threaten yall to make things better like that). You guys are the Prime Sorting for a "main character knows what's going to happen and will save Everyone" fix-it fic with your people-oriented primary and prep, plan, and tool-oriented secondary and not only is that satisfying to watch, it is also beautiful.

Double badger: when at your strongest, yall are like the classic dwarf cleric - a tanky damage sponge. If given enough time, you guys are able to get through basically everything, and it takes so, so long for you to get worn down in the first place. I have no clue how you guys do it.

Badger snake: when you're comfortable with your shifting and adapting are the epitome of gremlin "I will solve problems on purpose." Were you supposed to solve that problem? Nope! Did that stop you? Hell no! It is so much fun to watch you guys do your thing. I just wish you'd teach me how to do it XD

Snake lion: you guys are so, so consistent. You know who you are and you're there for those you love. The lack of face-changing and shifting makes it easier to get a sense of who you are and being around someone that you understand like that can be so comforting sometimes. Also, as @paint-the-ravenclaw said in her "top sexiest sortings" post: *poke* dork.

Snake bird: Respect. That's it, that's the biggest thing I respect about you guys: respect. You won't hesitate to help people, but if that person wants you to stay out of it and it's safe enough to allow that, then you guys respect those wishes better than I ever could. You go looking for information and try to find helpful resources to help your people, but only if they ask of it (or, at least, so long as they don't outright say no). On top of that, you guys are so loving and lovable. And your collections and tools are amazing. Another sorting that's wonderful to listen to the interests of.

Snake badger: soft gremlins who nobody suspects are gremlins until it's too late. And even then, we keep falling for it. You guys are also dependable and, whenever you have the tri-energy for it (mental/emotional/physical), you're always there to lend an ear and give emotional support, as well as to take care of those you love as best you can.

Double snake: yall are fun. You're feral and hilarious and compassionate and witty and I love it. You guys bring the best vibes for a good time. With yall it's greater chaos and digging into jokes until they've become staples. Amazing banter and getting blindsided by something I didn't see coming. On top of that, you guys can be very, very insightful and knowing that yall are there for us means so much.

[the-sycophant]

texture: Does your OC favor any specific kinds of cloth or textures? Is there anything they can't wear or don't like? What sort of fabrics do they prefer?

[OC Asks: Character Design Edition] Does Marlowe favor any specific kind of cloth or texture? Not really! It can be a coinflip for her between caring more on what the clothing actually looks like versus how it feels on her skin or how it actually fits on her figure. She will refuse much that doesn't cater to her idea of freedom of choice, meaning that she will just as easily wear something uncomfortable or restrictive as she would something sheer or free-flowing as long as it is of her choosing, finding pleasure in either. Her poor attitude laced with childish rebellion can make her difficult to deal with in this regard for those that have the joy, rejecting practical things or suggestions just to butt heads with someone in order to be obnoxious. With formal wear her normally modest fashion can flip to entirely immodest if her fickle mood decided on it for it that day. When given the bait of 'you will wear this or nothing at all', she would be the sort to bite. Allowing companions to choose how she presents herself is a gift (so she would say), and will occasionally offer them the option to do so for her. In general, though, she wears a few layers of clothing regardless of weather that would often protect her from anything too scratchy like wool. Petticoats, chemises, slips etc. over her undergarments, light long sleeves for protection from the sun and heavy coats from the cold is the norm. It's something she struggles over with her fondness of the heat and sunshine, and it is not uncommon to find her sunburned or sick with sunlight syndrome from running about like the village harlot in warmer climates.

Is there anything she can't wear or doesn't like? What fabrics does she prefer? She would say no, that she could wear anything, especially if someone tells her she can't. However, she does have a preference for simple linen or cotton, specifically dresses or skirts. Easy to move in, easy to clean, and easy to slip up over her knees. Sometimes she might say she would like a silk dress with sheer, tulle sleeves, stitched with vibrant florals and fit around her waist with colorful beads, or a fine pair of fitted trousers that nicely match an equally fine pair of high buckled boots, while other times she may say she wishes she could go about wearing nothing at all except the crumbs of fancy treats that a lover or two might have fed to her.

[wincore]

vixen | nakamoto yuta

pairing: kitsune!yuta x female!reader

words: 5.1k 

summary: every year, you visit the fox who claims to know everything about you. 

genre: fantasy/folklore, fluff, angst(?)

warnings: suggestive, mention of past bullying, one excessively flirty nakamoto yuta

song rec(s): clear and sunny - sou (cover)

a/n: this is for all you furries who aren’t quite furries yet muah (im joking) but aaaa love exploring folklore and also i should put in a disclaimer that not every aspect adheres to the original tales of the kitsune <3 i did not proofread btw and i am very sorry

Some things never change.

Examples: boys, shitty friends, death, and the scent of nostalgia. To you, that very scent happens to be the earthy smell of chrysanthemums and a faint waft of spices from the kitchen in your parents’ house. To you, October is not just another month. To you, there is one more thing that never changes and it is not your belief in old ghost stories. 

Around this time of the year, the autumn festival begins in a flurry of vibrant red smudges and a whiff of excitement, in streets suddenly brought alive. The skies are candied orange, and it’s the only time you aren’t tired of home. This time is also when you find yourself right in the clutches of the one demon you swore you’d avoid for the rest of your life. You swore. It’s not your fault that said demon is a little, let’s say, tempting. 

Tempting in the most vexing, infuriating way possible. Bewitching, cruel, seducing—all that foxes are and all that you’ve heard of them could not have prepared you for an encounter. Folklore runs deep through you. The memories of a certain fox-boy run deeper. 

It is not the festival you are here for. 

You yawn, leaning against the wooden door frame of the shop. It would be inappropriate to fall asleep on the job, especially since there are a bunch of children staring idly at you. You close your mouth quickly, resting the back of your hand against your lips. Late afternoon is an easy time to fall asleep. You have half the mind to snarl at the kids to scare them off, their gaze getting on your nerves and when you think you will, you turn the other way. Manners come first to you, no matter how temperamental you get. 

The procession has gathered a crowd. Some shouts and squeals from the children make you slump further. At least they’re having fun with whatever stupid game they’re playing. You breathe in the autumn air. A part of you wonders if you simply let your feet lead you down the stairs, you’d be free of this entire ordeal. You shake your head. Temptation has always been hard to resist—never meant to be resisted but you’re much older now. There is dignity to be answered.

October is mild—your grandmother’s shop is still on the verge of collapse, your mother still yells at you for misplacing kitchen utensils and your old friends from school still gossip about who you’re dating. It’s like the script never changes; people change the meaning, twist their words in the same old pattern. If you were a little less behaved, you would have poured your drink over their heads yesterday. 

You clench your jaw. It’s always an ‘Oh, you’re so attractive’ and an ‘I wish I could date as many men as you do but I’m loyal to my boyfriend’, or even a ‘Must be nice being surrounded by boys all the time’. You know what they mean. It’s not the first time you’ve been called a fox, and you don’t think it’ll be the last—at least until you decide to stop letting your hometown suffocate you. Maybe you’ll accept what they say. You have heard of what hatred left unchecked can do.

If you’re honest, you haven’t been with too many men. If you’re a little more honest, none of them have ever made your heart race.

You watch the children play with a keen eye, their painted masks ridiculously large for their faces and in brightly coloured clothes contrasting well with the town. You might not be allowed to fall asleep, but there’s nothing against closing your eyes for a second or two.

The image of glinting yellow eyes and a fanged smile pop up and you quickly open your eyes. You don’t know why your heart beats so loud at the mere thought of him, thoughts in which his lips are full and painted red, and his bright smile is stretched upon them. Sometimes, the thought of him is in gentle washes, his hand fixing your hair, or a flirty smile when you dare stumble upon him on a particularly sleepless night. You shake your head to get rid of the thought. That is not love. Some sort of embarrassing attraction, maybe. However, the friendship you have is worse.

“I see you’re a slacker as always.”

Your grandmother’s voice breaks you out of your cycle of thoughts and you’re almost grateful.

“I sold approximately zero sweets,” you snort. “Why can’t we just do away with the shop?”

“You’re starting to sound like your mother,” your grandma calls from behind one of the counters, distaste ringing clear in her voice. 

You sigh. “Fine, but… you work way too hard to make these for them to not sell.”

“Maybe they would sell if a certain little lady would stay and help.”

You groan, leaning your head back. “You know I have work in the city.”

Your grandmother waves her hand about, dismissing your reasoning. She fiddles around in the shadows for a bit before coming forward with more boxes than she should be able to hold.

“You don’t have to feel too guilty. Yuta’s been helping out,” your grandmother informs fondly. “You could learn a thing or two from him.”

You’re not the superstitious sort and yet still, your heart beats faster. For him, or for the bad omens foxes bring to a household—you don’t know.

You scoff instead. “He’s not as great a guy as you think, grandma. He can be really mean too!”

“Oh, I doubt that. Have you seen his smile? Impossible.” Your grandmother waves it off before drawing nearer, voice hushed without reason. “Have you thought about it then? He is handsome, isn’t he?”

“Grandma.”

You’re not sure what old women go through in their youth that makes them something of a matchmaker in their later years. You think the whole ordeal is messed up. There is no way you’re going to stick your nose into your grandchildren’s love life; it’s gross.

“These should be enough for the children, no?” Your grandmother asks and you look up.

“You’re giving them away for free?” you question, furrowing your eyebrows. “And you talk about bad business.”

She places her hand on her hip, pointing an accusatory finger. “You’re going to lecture your grandmother?”

You raise your hands up in defeat, standing up to help her with the red boxes of acorn candy and paper wraps of roasted chestnuts. You end up with the entire load in your arms, your grandmother happily shuffling about as she locks up the store.

You turn sharply at the surprised sound behind you. The evening has settled in and glowing lanterns bring forward the evidence, the darkening streets flooding with round droplets of light.

But it is not the festival you are looking at.

Yuta looks somewhat serene, your cheeks heating up despite yourself. You look at him with bated breath, hoping the boxes obscure your face enough to make the vaguely positive emotions less evident. The dark red jacket draped over his shoulder does not look out of place—in fact, he fits in so well you would’ve mistaken him for another face in the crowd if he weren’t stupidly gorgeous. He looks at you with no strong emotion in the eyes before breaking into a smile; and when his hand strokes the top of your head as a greeting, he seems fond. He always does.

“Grandma,” he calls with his best smile, turning to the old woman.

Your grandmother doesn’t need any more convincing of his character. 

“Oh, there you are! Did I tell you (name)’s back? I wanted to break the news to you earlier. Ah…I must have forgotten.”

You glance from Yuta to her. Is this another one of her tricks and tests?

“She’s always here this time of the year,” he responds, laughing politely.

“Ah, you remembered,” she says, eyes crescent as she smiles back. “Help her with the boxes. The city has made her so frail.”

“I’m good,” you choke on the words, hurriedly moving away and almost dropping one of the boxes.

You slip on your sandals and scurry off faster, wishing he’d just stay behind. He always has. The air makes you shiver but you’re adamant; and it’s not the only trait of yours to make relationships fail.

“You know, you should be nicer to old friends.”

You try not to react when Yuta takes the boxes from you, matching your pace almost effortlessly.

“I thought foxes ran away once they’re found out,” you snap, reluctantly letting him take the packages.

Yuta rolls his eyes. “I see you still aren’t very fond of me.”

“Not when you’re tricking my grandmother like this,” you hiss.

“You call helping trickery?” he retaliates.

“Foxes bring bad business,” you mutter.

“I’m the reason your grandmother’s business is somewhat above the water.”

You sigh, exasperated. There’s no point in wasting your breath. You look away, crossing your arms as you walk, the silence between the two of you suddenly awkward. Even so, you’re not going to open your mouth for him.

“Would you two slow down?” your grandmother calls, voice weary. “We’re already there.”

The two of you halt in your tracks immediately, taking mellow steps back to her. She looks over the two of you with furrowed eyebrows and you try to think of an explanation when she starts laughing.

“Oh, I don’t mind the two of you flirting,” she says, littered with slow laughter. “Just make sure the food is where it’s supposed to be.”

You’re about to refute when Yuta laughs, the sound still boyish and lively. “Of course. (name) missed me so much this year, she couldn’t help herself.”

You give him a pointed look which he ignores, deliberately or not. “We- I wasn’t—”

“Grandmother, if you’ll give us permission,” he interrupts, settling the packages on the table by the food stall and smiling wide. “We’ll go enjoy the festival now.”

She bobs her head in affirmation and Yuta grabs your hand to pull you into the bustling street, your silent plea for help ignored by your smug grandmother.

“What are you doing?” you ask, slipping your hand from his. “You aren’t- You aren’t trying to eat my liver, are you?”

“Why the liver? Can’t I have the rest of you too?”

It’s not like you were particularly alarmed but his response makes you feel a flush of embarrassment.

“It’s been a year since I last saw you,” he says before his voice turns a shade cooler. “Have you thought about my proposal?”

You fall silent. The overthinking started last year too. Your thoughts and dreams, so easily pervaded by him and all it took was one sentence. 

“We should get married.”

“Why did you even think I’d agree to that?” You try not to get too flustered. He knows all your petty weaknesses and you’d rather not have them on display for him to stare and pick at. “What the fuck would I get out of marrying you?”

Yuta whistles. “I like your tongue. But—yes, to answer your question, you’d get a very handsome and capable husband. Your bed will always be warm and oh, speaking of beds—”

You clamp your hand over his mouth at the suggestive look he sends, worried about being spotted by one of your school friends. Ah, right—friends, the very same people that smell of jealousy and won’t miss any opportunity to throw a jab your way. Friends. You can’t believe you’re still afraid of their judgement.

“And why do you want to get married to me?” you ask, looking into his eyes.

There’s a pause, filled with the chatter of the crowd.

“You look like you’re afraid of finding someone,” he speaks finally, ignoring your question. “Or is it the other way around?”

You roll your eyes, ready to walk off when he grabs your wrist to pull you closer to his chest. It draws some looks from nearby people, your eyes darting from face to face in fear. You take a deep breath and look at Yuta again, almond eyes distracting. 

“People will think we’re lovers,” you whisper, almost a hiss.

“What’s wrong with that?”

You breathe out in disbelief. “You’re really something.”

“What? Why did you always come to meet me then? Behind the keyaki tree?”

“It wasn’t for you,” you lie quickly. “I had nothing better to do.”

Pining after a fox? You could never have feelings for him. Even so, your answer comes off childish and silly, and somehow he’s the only one to be able to draw that side of you—the you that is messy and unprepared.

Yuta smiles in return. “You think people can’t fall in love with us the same way they fall in love with most everything.”

It’s a statement, not a question.

“How conservative of you,” he leaves with an airy remark, but not before urging you to follow him.

The sizzling sound of food being fried and the knocking, clicking sound of children playing games, all these forgotten sounds grow louder and for a second, if only you let yourself, you could close your eyes and it would be just like your first date. 

No. It’s different. You look up, eyes trailing over Yuta’s back, his golden hair, how his figure moves with ease and confidence.

It is different.

You raise an eyebrow at the box of takoyaki Yuta shoves towards you, an expecting look across his face.

“You like this, don’t you?” he asks, an uncharacteristic hesitation in his voice.

You hum in response, taking the box from him and saving yourself the trouble of asking whether he paid for it or simply charmed his way through. 

“Eh, no thank you?” he complains. “How polite.”

You scrunch your nose to accompany an exaggerated smile and he laughs, the two of wandering over the asphalt streets. Your hands are close enough to brush—and if a twenty-something year-old woman can feel jittery because of it, hands truly are meant to share warmth. The smell of candy and caramel fills the air, making you smile. You’ve saved enough for the taste of home, you think. 

The taste of home. 

Inevitably, the thought of kissing your companion crosses your mind and you stop in your tracks. Whatever. It must be natural when someone as attractive is beside you. Those aren’t feelings. You curse yourself for feeling like a teenager again.

The festival grounds aren’t as shabby as you expect them to be. The city,—if you could call this one—stops here and the earth spreads out to the forest behind. The crowd also thins, and you take a fresh breath. They’re selling old books in the corner, but no one seems to be there.

“The raccoon dogs,” Yuta whispers in your ear, with an arcane smile. “Want to visit those rascals?”

You roll your eyes. He knows you’ve heard one too many folktales for a lifetime, seen one too many. It’s time to go home, especially now that the thought of thanking him crosses your mind. You’re about to turn when your shoulder crashes into someone else’s. A surprised, syrupy smile greets you, which you cannot return for the first few moments. Yui’s smile wavers and you flash her a quick smile. A friend. Her arm is looped through her lover’s, the one she never shuts up about and suddenly the urge to pour water over her head returns.

Yuta glances from you to her before pressing his lips together, as if suppressing laughter. You’re almost offended when Yui laughs flippantly.

“You’re on a date too? I knew you couldn’t stand spending the festival alone,” she says, tugging her lover closer. 

People have always told you who you are and what you do. As if they know better.

You smile awkwardly. “It’s… actually not—”

“Oh, don’t be shy.” She gently pats your shoulder before leaning in. “He’s a real catch. As expected from you. You can never leave the boys alone.”

You know what she really means. You’ve heard the same words in high school when she was shoving you into a wall behind the school. The sickening smile is still on her face.

You gulp, feeling sixteen again. The lack of people around somehow makes it more awkward and you’re about to excuse yourself when suddenly, Yuta bumps into Yui and his warm drink spills over her left shoulder. Your eyes widen, more in confusion. When did he leave? You don’t doubt his ability to sneak past people, but surely you couldn’t have been so enraptured in your own feelings that you barely noticed.

“I’m so sorry,” Yuta says, voice honeyed with surprise.

Yui looks like she’s about to explode when she looks at him, her expression dropping to a calmer one almost immediately.

It’s an easy look to recognize. They always have it when they first meet Yuta, whether it’s the smile that’s too dazzling or the pretty round eyes. 

How persuasive, those eyes.

“Ah… I must have not seen you,” she says faintly, and Yuta’s smile widens.

Before he can stir up more trouble, you slip your arm into his and pull him away, not caring for another polite apology to an old, almost nameless face.

“I was having fun,” Yuta complains, voice still smug and calm.

You glare at him and it only seems to add fuel to the fire, to whatever cold fire dances at his fingertips. 

“You’re happy, right? Don’t look at me like that. You should reward me.”

You don’t respond, looking away and hoping to get at least a word in about how troublesome he is every single time you visit. Yuta has other plans, however. Leaning his head to look you in the eye, he maintains a distance which looks perfectly decent but feels less than so.

“How about a kiss? I deserve one, don’t I?” He moves his head closer to yours, making you shy away.

You grab him by the belt and pretend to not catch a glimpse of the pleased look on his face as you drag him into a secluded part by the forest.

It’s quieter here, so much that you can almost hear your own heart drumming in your chest, and the faint light of the distant festival grounds doesn’t help much at all. It’s dark as dusk, and you can only make out Yuta’s jawline and a faint smirk over his lips. You think that if a fox ever wanted to eat your liver, this would be the perfect spot.

“You did something,” you finally utter the words. “You did something to me.”

“Why do you think I did something? Do you mean love?” he responds with a cheeky smile. “This means you’ve been thinking about me? How cute—”

“Yuta, stop it,” you warn. 

“Or what? You should stop me yourself.”

You grab the lapels of his jacket, the cloth bunching as your knuckles turn white. The anger you feel isn’t the first of its kind—it’s just a little funny how it’s always Yuta every time, making you remember the burning feeling time and time again. You find yourself unable to respond. 

“Oh, don’t hold back,” he provokes, leaning in.

You push at his chest in exasperation, but he grabs your wrists before you can retract your hands.

“Scared?” he whispers.

You pull apart anyway, a scowl over your lips. “You’re as annoying as ever. Don’t you have anyone else to bother?”

“Ooh! Sharp claws. You’d be lovely as my fox-bride.” he teases. 

Your face flares with heat. “I’m not your… I’m not a fox.”

“I didn’t say a fox, I said—”

“I know what you said,” you snap, massaging your wrist so you don’t have to look at him.

Yuta falls quiet for a moment, voice lower when he speaks again.

“Is it so nasty to be called a fox? There are worse things, you know.”

You scoff, growing increasingly annoyed. “Of course you’d say that. I hate it. I hate this town. I hate foxes and I hate you.”

Yuta places a hand over his chest, gasping with no emotion. Your eyes linger over his long, painted nails a little longer before you meet his eyes. A part of you regrets saying the words but you couldn’t help it. The shroud choking your hometown makes you want to scream at the top of your lungs every time you’re here. You hate this place.

But you don’t hate him, after all. 

You try to clear yourself of the thought. A gentle gust of wind brings you back to the present, Yuta still glancing at you with no giveaway to what he’s feeling.

“You wouldn’t make a terrible fox though,” he says, eyes sharp. “Don’t they know you’re a vixen already? How many livers will you eat?”

You suck in a breath, tears stinging at your eyes. However, it’s not like you to get so easily affected by him. No. No, somehow that doesn’t make sense either. Those words do hurt from Yuta and you’re not sure if it’s just because he's the only one you didn’t expect them from.

“You…”

“What? Aren’t you going to lash at me again? You’re so predictable.”

His voice is calm despite your obvious annoyance and you feel flames lick at your heart. Your hand moves before you can think, about to meet his cheek when he grabs your wrist. You struggle, trying to pull free but to no avail and you use the other hand to hit him in the chest. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t bother him and that same feline smile curves up his lips.

You feel something you haven’t before, a warm growl at the pit of your stomach.

You push with all your strength, catching Yuta off guard and he stumbles backward but not before pulling you into him. Consequently, either of you lose footing and land on the grass with a sudden thud, Yuta’s side pressed against yours. His hands still clutch your wrist, and he shifts to hover over you.

“We used to wrestle like this as a litter,” he says, erupting into full laughter. “Ah, memories. I don’t even know if they’re alive or dead now.”

Yuta is much stronger than he looks, and he’s taken your tantrum as a source of amusement much to your infuriation. He has your hands pinned back, eyes unaffected as he scans over your face. You try to shift but there’s just too much weight on you. You breathe slowly, chest rising and falling in time with his. His earrings sway gently in the wind, dangling a few inches above you—he’s pretty, so pretty. Admitting defeat has never been your forte but now that your senses are gathering again, you feel a flush of embarrassment for losing your temper. 

Or perhaps, it is something else when you register the lack of distance between your noses.

“Playtime’s over,” Yuta coos. “You’re kinda cute when you’re losing.”

He tilts his head, an adoring smile over his lips. For a moment, they’re all you see.

Can a fox comfort you? Can a fox make you feel loved on the darkest of nights? Your mind races with questions your heart does not want to answer. 

Yuta leans in to close the distance and despite every nerve in your body, you turn your head away. You can hear him gulp, the following moments painfully quiet before he gets up. Your breath is soft and shallow, lying on the ground till you get enough courage to sit up. 

You almost gasp. His tails are clearer under the dim moonlight, all nine of them golden and luxurious. The light hitting his face isn’t any less flattering and once again you are reminded of how handsome he is, fairytale or not. 

Yuta looks uncomfortable, and that’s a first for you.

“I’m sorry,” you say, though you don’t know why.

He waves his hand dismissively, annoyed.

“Yuta,” you take a step forward.

“I see the way you look at me,” he says quietly, “Is it not want?”

You fall silent, biting your lip so you don’t retort violently. He doesn’t look particularly malicious when he says that but you do not want to give him the satisfaction of an answer yet.

He quietens for a moment before a look of curiosity flashes across his features.

“What is it then?” he asks. “Is it a secret? Foxes love secrets. Tell me.”

Despite every bone in your body burning up, you find it in yourself to laugh.

“I don’t think I could keep a secret from you if I tried,” you finally say, before bursting into soft laughter again.

Yuta looks at you puzzled, lips parted while he stands frozen as if he were a painting. A daunting, reckless, heavenly painting.

“It’s not want,” you answer quietly. “It’s more than that. Even if I hated it. I like you.”

Yuta’s ears perk up at your confession. “So- so you admit, then? You are interested?”

“I could blame you for this, you know?” You shrug, hugging yourself once the night starts to feel cold again. Yuta begins to take off his jacket when you stop him, gently pressing your palm against his chest. 

“You’re a fox, after all,” you whisper. “Like me. What they think of me.”

Yuta purses his lips. “Does it really hurt you? No, wait. Did they- did they—”

“Now, you tell me,” you cut him off. “Why do you insist on getting married—to me?”

There’s a pause. The crickets chirp a merry tune despite the leisurely darkness of the night.

“You’re not terrible,” he says, nonchalantly.

You glare at him and he raises his hands in defeat. He looks wearier the more you look at him.

“I want to grow old,” he mumbles after a long pause. “Properly.”

You hold your breath.

“And you want to do it with me?”

Another flower blooms in your chest, as if he hasn’t planted a garden in there already. The lights from the festival flicker down, the lanterns burning brighter in the distance. He glances at them for a moment, your eyes still fixated on him. 

The tails glow even brighter in the dark, as if gold in broad daylight. You’ve always been curious about him and his kind, all the stories; but he says he’s too old to remember if you ask.

You reach out to touch one of the tails, wondering if the fur is as warm as it looks. They’re pale and captivating, but they look so soft—they shouldn’t belong to an animal so vicious. Is he, though? Is he all that you think he is or have all these years failed you? If anything, he’s quite probably not as much a fox as you are, you think bitterly.

The fur is warm, but the realization is short-lived.

A short growl leaves the corner of his mouth. Yuta glares at you like he was stolen from and yet, you do not move your hand. Some part of you wants to aggravate him further.

“I’m not a pet,” he snaps. “Stop that.”

“You should stop me yourself,” you mimic his voice.

Yuta’s shoulders relax, and he looks down but you can still see the trembling smile on his face. It’s the way he looks at you, you think to yourself, maybe that's the reason after all.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say, feeling warmer than the autumn night should allow.

“Like what?” he asks, still smiling.

You look away. 

“You’re not too fox-like, you know?” you mumble. “You’re just annoying. And flirty. And annoying.”

Yuta chuckles, before pressing his palm to the top of your head. 

“And you’re lovely.”

You give in to the gesture of affection, leaning your head to press against his shoulder.

“Why do you even do all this? What do you get out of it?” you say, voice muffled. He hears you clearly, however.

“Because I love you,” he responds, as if coming to terms with it himself. “More than you think.”

There is no joke, no flirtation to his tone, no decoration upon his words. It’s plain, and laid bare. And sometimes, simplicity is scariest. 

You pull back, lips pulled into a frown. The air is cold once more; the longing for warmth flowing into you. The silence is worse.

“You don't believe foxes can fall in love,” he states softly upon a wavering smile. “I knew that. Of course.”

A part of him believes it too.

“I…” you begin, and for the first time, you are afraid of promises in the name of love. You are the one making them now.

“I’ll believe you,” you whisper, “I’ll believe you so please… please take care of me.”

You place your palm against his cheek, his skin bewitchingly warm. 

“Only if you take care of me,” he whispers back, leaning in.

This time, you do not move.

The lovers’ kiss you’d been searching for—lovers’ warmth, lovers’ comfort—all of it comes crashing down once Yuta tightens his arm around your waist, the other hand resting gently at the base of your neck. He kisses with the right amount of pressure, the vague taste of sweet berries in his mouth.

You used to fear his touch, like he would eat you whole; even if they have been gentle, always. This time, you might as well let him. He presses his lips from your cheek to jaw to neck, lingering at each spot enough to make you clutch at his shirt tighter, taking in short gasps of breath. You kiss for a little longer, like time means nothing.

“We should go back,” you whisper, pulling apart.

Yuta kisses you again, the distance unacceptable. 

“Yuta—”

He kisses you once more, your calls falling on deaf ears.

Finally, after another long kiss, he pulls apart enough to rest his forehead against yours, eyes still closed.

“It must have been hard for you,” he mumbles.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you scoff.

“Foxes are faithful lovers, you know?” he insists.

You laugh. “What do you mean?”

“It means I’ll follow you everywhere.”

He stands up straight, his thumb stroking your cheek as he bites back a smile.

“I don’t think we should get back tonight,” he suggests all of a sudden. “We could book a hotel. That’s the place you use these days, right? I’m sure your grandmother will understand your absence—”

You groan, resting your forehead against his shoulder and he presents a delighted laugh in return. It is warm by his side; he is warm. You find it easy to forget the failures in love, the loneliness of a lover that isn’t meant to be yours. Folktales are just long tales, after all. You smile to yourself. 

You should’ve known—it was the fox all along. 

[y0itsbri]

Red Meets Blue

for a.u.gust @gallavichthings - a time travel au of sorts

slightly abstract & angstier than i expected. i realize that red and blue are the characters in 'this is how you lose the time war.' although i haven't read that, there may have been some subconscious influence with the names.

uhhh fair warning: writing this made me cry so idk if that's a personal problem or if i actually wrote something sad so sorry in advance

words: 1.9k

Ian turned his glass over in his hands, watching the amber liquid chase the fall of gravity. Red lights overhead illuminated his fingertips, still shaky.

He jumped when the bar door was heaved up with more force than necessary, causing it to leave a dent in the wood behind it.

An unfamiliar face strode in like he owned the place, which wouldn't be abnormal if Ian hadn't frequented this bar since he was seven. He knew he didn't recognize this man. And yet he couldn't look away.

"Tequila."

A cup was filled almost instantly and he downed it even quicker.

"Another one." The man pounded on the bar. The bartender filled his glass again and moved onto the next patron when he didn't request another.

Ian couldn't help but stare. There was something about him that Ian simply couldn't tear himself away from. His gruff but confident demeanor. His short stature but loud presence. His cool energy but warm aura.

And apparently his ability to see out of his own two fucking eyeballs because he was staring directly at Ian with a glint of something in his eye.

"Can I fuckin' help you?" The man's dark eyebrows shot up his forehead as the corners of his lips tugged up into a half smirk.

Ian's thoughts clouded over as he watched the man's features, but he successfully managed to stutter out a "No, sir."

The man outright laughed. "Sir," he mocked with no real heat in his words. "'m just fuckin' with ya."

Ian released a breath he hadn't noticed he was holding.

"Can I buy your next round?" Ian asked, eager to amend any tensions with the newcomer.

"I gotta go, but I'll see you around, Red, don't worry," and he winked.

Red.

"Uh- sure." Ian murmured long after the door had already closed behind the unnamed man.

---

Ian stopped by the bar at nearly the same time everyday. It had been over a week since the mysterious man who called him 'Red' had made an appearance. Ian would have thought the whole thing as some hallucination if there wasn't that dent in the wall behind the front door. Proof that Ian wasn't completely off his rocker. At least yet. He scrubbed his hands down the side of his face and closed his eyes.

He hadn't remembered falling asleep, but he woke up to the sound of a glass clinking on the table mere inches from his head. He expected one of the usual workers, kicking him out of his table for the night. Which is why it startled him all the more when he heard that unfamiliar familiar voice.

"How's it hanging, Sleeping Beauty?" He smiled at Ian, almost like he was the butt of a joke he didn't know was going on, but also with something more akin to fondness. Either way, Ian didn't understand and he was even slower at responding. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, assuming the dark-haired man was solely a figment of his dreams.

He remained.

The man pushed the glass closer to Ian. His usual amber liquid replaced with something more red.

"It's your usual, just with cherries. Wanted something a bit more colorful, but fair warning, it might taste like shit." He smirked.

Ian only stared between him and the drink.

"Here, I'll try it, it's not drugged or whatever, promise." Ian watched as the man took a sip and proceeded to grimace. "On second thought, maybe don't try that. It does taste like shit. It's the sentiment that counts though, right, Red?"

There it was again. Red.

Ian took in the sight in front of him. His eyes were blue. Piercingly blue. Cold but open. Daring Ian to share all of his secrets. His gaze travelled down to his cheek. There was a wide scratch along the side of the man's face. Surely that hadn't been there a week ago. But the gash was too healed for it to not have been.

"Your cheek?" He mustered through his confusion.

The man's smile faltered for a moment, revealing something akin to fear, before perking up even brighter than before. A façade maybe. "Observant fucker aren't you?"

Ian didn't know why he felt so safe. He'd all but spoken a few sentences to the stranger. He didn't even know his name. But he held his gaze like the answers to all his prayers were floating in the pools of blue. Like maybe he was supposed to be here. Like maybe this meant something. Like maybe he meant something.

Blue.

---

Ian didn't go to the bar everyday anymore, but told the bartender to let him know if the man, Blue, ever stopped by again.

Ian spent days at home and nights at school. He kept himself busy. He kept himself on track, at least what he thought was a proper track. It was something. And he was starting to feel proud of his progress. Of his stability.

On a seemingly random Thursday, after a particularly gruesome exam, he found himself at the bar again. His usual table was occupied so he turned to leave. But before he could do so, he recognized the occupant. Maybe not by name, but by being. He sat down across from him.

"Red."

"Blue."

They greeted. They smiled. Like it was a secret.

Blue was first to speak, as usual.

"You look well."

Ian blushed. He didn't know the man, but he felt his words in earnest. Ian took in the man's face. The gash that previously took up half his cheek was now nothing but a faded shiny scar. But a vibrant bruise colored his eye socket. Ian knew not to ask. But nevertheless commented.

"Wish I could say the same for you."

Blue smiled, his eyes, bruise and all, crinkling. Ian was sure it hurt to smile that big, but if it did, he couldn't tell.

Ian felt something strong. A connection of sorts. He looked down at his fingertips, slightly purple. He looked up at the lights, a couple burnt out. He felt a boot kick his own under the table.

"Here." Two glasses of amber liquid were waiting on the table between them. "No cherries."

They clinked glasses. It felt like a celebration of sorts. Of what, Ian didn't know. He didn't care.

---

Days had come and gone. Weeks had come and gone. Ian spent days at work and nights at home. Home being alone. Not quite lonely, but not quite right either. Ian didn't go to the bars much anymore. He ordered in quite a bit, working exhausting him too much, his social life working not enough. He heard a knock at his door, expecting it to be his usual takeout. Instead, he was greeted with Blue.

Ian's mouth dropped open in an o. It had been months, going on a year maybe? Blue's scar and bruise looked the same, as if nothing had changed.

"Got your address from the barkeep. I told them it was an emergency and you left this," He wiggled a jacket in front of him, "They said you were a family friend. Sorry, man, I would've came sooner, but I didn't know how to-"

Ian tugged Blue's shirt, inviting him inside. Inviting him into his arms. Into his mouth. He was warm and he made Ian feel right.

Later, when their bodies were bare and tangled under Ian's sheets, heartbeats thrumming red blood through blue veins, Ian slipped the truth into the universe.

"Ian."

Blue turned his head upwards and caressed the side of Ian's face, "Ian, you're beautiful."

A pause stretched between the two of them long enough that Ian began to drift off, floating into his dreams. Taking the form of a swan, Blue's voice spoke, "Mickey."

Mickey.

It was the last thing he remembered him by.

---

Years had passed. There had been up and downs. High highs and low lows. His hair was strands of salt and pepper. His cheeks a shade of tomato red. His body kissed by the sun. He let his mind wander quite a bit, but he was happy enough. He didn't move as fast as he used to, but he was doing alright.

On an autumn day, his daughter, home from college, strolled into the living room of his house, hand in hand with another girl. Ian couldn't not stare. The girl's blue eyes met his green.

He was hit with something. A realization. A pillow. His daughter threw it at him. "Dad, stop staring at Mandy!" Mandy. It wasn't familiar but it wasn't unfamiliar.

Ian cleared his throat, "Uh, yeah, sorry about that. Are you staying for dinner? We're making spaghetti."

Mandy smiled, her eyes crinkling with it. "That'd be great."

Her voice rang in the air as Ian prepped the food. Laughter coming from his daughter's bedroom.

---

Mandy came around pretty often after that. Birthdays. Holidays. Weekends.

Things were fine before, they were. But with Mandy around, things felt better. Closer. Fuller.

One Thanksgiving, Mandy asked if her brother could join them. He had just gotten back from his backpacking trip or something or other.

He had to have known, right?

The doorbell rang, a familiar chime echoing throughout the near-empty house aside from the table set for four waiting in the dining room.

Ian opened the door and came face to face with Blue.

"This is my brother, Mickey. Thanks again for letting him come over!" Mandy hugged Ian once before running off to find his daughter.

Red and Blue stared at each other for a long moment. Too long. Not long enough. He looked the exact same as he did all those years ago. Blue smiled. Mickey smiled. Ian's vision became blurry.

Mickey spoke first as usual, "I'm sorry it's been so long." An edge of regret in his voice.

A hot tear trailed down Ian's cheek, mimicking the scar on Blue's own.

Mickey wiped the tear gently. He let his hand fall onto Ian's clutching tightly. You're here. You're real.

"I'm here now."

Dinner was filled with loud chatter and laughs from the girls, oblivious to the intense gazes between Red and Blue. Between Ian and Mickey.

Ian didn't know how long this would last this time, afraid to imagine a lonely future without him again. He wouldn't let himself think any thoughts besides this feels good, this feels right.

---

Ian and Mickey spent time together. Learning the secrets of Red and Blue - past, present, future alike.

When all the secrets were spilled, they both knew this was it. There was nothing else left to learn, to do. They had explored each other's bodies, memorizing each freckle and scar like the universe was written in them. And maybe it was.

Time was incomprehensible and it ripped a shred through their reality.

Mickey had to go. He didn't when he could return. If he could return in time.

Ian's fingers brushed across Mickey's eyelid, under the purple hollows of his eye. He felt the flutter of Blue's eyelashes. Mickey's fingers combed through the locks of hair atop Ian's head, no longer red.

Maybe this was it. And maybe it wasn't. But they had existed together in something that was real.

Something Purple.

[thatgamefromthatad]

Games Like ‘Merge Mansion,’ Ranked

I noticed an ad for what seemed to be practically the same exact game as Merge Mansion, so instead of doing an individual review for it, I decided to find as many Merge Mansion dupes as I could and review and rank them all!

If you’ve never played Merge Mansion or similar games, the concept is basically merging together two of the same item to get higher-level items of the same category. The items spawn from other items (I don’t know if there’s a technical name but I call them spawners), which you usually need to tap in order to put more mergeable items on the board. You can usually create new spawners by merging special parts together too, and create more powerful spawners by merging together two of the same spawner. The objective is to fulfill tasks the game gives you to obtain certain items by making enough merges. I enjoy these games because it’s satisfying to merge things together and discover new items.

Here is a handy-dandy rubric I used to score and compare each game to the best of my ability. This way instead of going by which games I just liked overall, you can pick which game you’d like to play based on the aspects that are important to you! (All of these metrics and scores will be broken down and explained further below.)

See all seven games (including Merge Mansion itself) ranked from best to worst below:

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1. Travel Town

Developer: Magmatic Games Ltd

Release Date: Feb. 12, 2021

So this game is actually the one on the list that is the least like Merge Mansion, and I wouldn’t really call it a copycat unlike some of the other games on the list. However, the basic gameplay is the same as Merge Mansion and all the other games, so I think it’s fair to put it in the same category. (It also has the common thread of using energy, coins, diamonds and a level system, all using similar symbolism as the rest of the games.)

I really like this game’s vibrant colors and beautiful items, and the fact that all of your goals are shown right above you which is less frustrating than having to switch back and forth between your goals tab. I also like that you have a lot of goals at once so that you don’t feel like you’re wasting energy if you spawn and merge items that aren’t related to a current goal when the spawner you actually need is reloading.

Another thing that makes this game unique is that instead of just unlocking new renovations or parts of the story with each goal you fulfill, you get coins for fulfilling goals that you can then spend on the construction stages, that come with additional parts of the story in turn. I’m not sure if this is a better or worse system, but is the only game on this list that does it like that.

The best part of this game I think is the fact that there are event stages with completely different items and a cool way of unlocking new parts of the board (for example, you merge tools up to a chainsaw to cut down trees blocking part of the board). For a newer game, I think it’s pretty innovative and off to a strong start!

🐚 Art: 3/3 (It’s are very vibrant and shiny-looking and the character drawings are also very well done)

🐚 Story: 2/3 (the dialog between characters is fun and humorous at times but I don’t really see a solid plot going on throughout and I couldn’t tell you any of the characters’ names or most of their relationships to each other to be honest)

🐚 Gameplay: 5/5 (I haven’t run into the frustrating thing of constantly running out of space on the board, at least not yet, and completing the merges is very satisfying. I also like the goal system and the events)

🐚 Variety: 3/3 (There isn’t that much variety on the main board to begin with but this is the only game on the list to have a log book that tracks the items you’ve unlocked and I can see from the blank sections that there will be a lot more variety going forward. Plus there is extra variety in the event stages)

🐚 Playtime vs. Wait Time (without paying for more energy or to reload spawners): 2/4 (Like most of the games on this list you can only really play the main board in short sessions before needing to wait for your energy to reload. However being able to play the event stages when they’re available can lengthen your play session)

🐚 Overall Enjoyment: 5/5 (This is sort of subjective score based on the amount of fun I personally have playing each game. I found this game to be the most fun out of all of the games and I would give it an overall 5/5 if I were reviewing it individually like I do with my usual reviews)

🐚 Total: 20/23

2. Merge Design

Developer: Stonemobile Kft.

Release Date: Feb. 19, 2021

This is another newer game that is pretty unique from Merge Mansion and off to a strong start! it’s also the only game on this list with a landscape orientation so it’s nice to play on an iPad if you have one.

For this game you fulfill objectives to place furniture and decor inside a room you’re remodeling for a client. There are different clients throughout the game and several tasks for each client; you also get to choose between three styles for each item you place in the room. There are two main designer characters you follow throughout the game and there’s occasional dialog between the designers and clients.

I found this game to be more on the challenging side because you have to experiment a bit to find the items you need, and getting the spawners you need for some of those items does not come as easily and naturally as in most other games.

One of the things I didn’t like that much in this game were that the maximum level for most item categories is not that high so you can get a lot of maxed out items pretty easily, although there is a wide variety of different items. There’s also only a handful of slots to unlock in storage (where you can move items off the board when you’re running out of room) so it can be a lot easier to run out of room which is frustrating. However, the ability to play this game for longer stretches of time than the others is a big plus!

🛋 Art: 2/3 (the character art, item art and room/furniture/decor style are each nice enough of their own but they kind of clash in my opinion, like they’re from three different games)

🛋 Story: 2/3 (it’s cool to meet the different clients along the way and you can definitely start to see the personalities of the two main characters but it’s not all that exciting)

🛋 Gameplay: 4/5 (I like that this game is a little more challenging and that the objectives are more complicated, usually requiring more items, but it’s really frustrating when the board gets so cluttered)

🛋 Variety: 3/3 (lots of different item tracks corresponding to different types of furniture and household items, and new spawners that take work to obtain but it’s fun when you see the new kinds of items you can get)

🛋 Playtime vs. Wait Time: 4/4 (by far the best game for if you want to be able to play for long stretches of time. You get a ton of energy, almost to the point where it seems like a mistake by the developers lol, and the spawners reload pretty quickly too)

🛋 Overall Enjoyment: 5/5 (between the variety of items and ability to enjoy long play sessions I definitely enjoyed this game plenty!)

🛋 Total: 20/23 (same score as Travel Town but Travel Town gets the upper hand with its event stages and less of a problem with clogging the board)

3. Merge Friends

Developer: Skunkworks

Release Date: Nov. 6, 2020

This is the last game on the list that I wouldn’t consider an exact copycat of Merge Mansion but definitely seem like it’s influenced by it. It’s unique in its more cartoony art style which I think has some charm when it comes to the items on the board, although I was a little less fond of the character designs. This game also has parts of the board that unlock as you level up and getting new types of items takes a little time.

The objectives of these game are based on orders placed by different characters to complete certain tasks, and you get little pieces of the storyline with each task you complete. Each character has their own personality and role in the town that goes along with the items you have to give them to complete the objective. There are also some events in this game but they’re not exciting as the ones in Travel Time, they basically just seem like extra goals with extra chances for rewards.

🔨 Art: 2/3 (as mentioned I like the cartoony art style on the board but don’t like the character designs as much)

🔨 Story: 3/3 (this is one of the only games where I actually got kind of attached to the characters and wanted to know what would happen next)

🔨 Gameplay: 5/5 (merges are satisfying, didn’t have problems with the board getting clogged up and I liked that each objective went along with the story i.e. the character had a specific use for the items as explained through the dialog)

🔨 Variety: 3/3 (it takes a little longer to get more categories of items but once you unlock more of the board it’s fun to see the new categories you can come across, the items also level up pretty far)

🔨 Playtime vs. Wait Time: 1/4 (unfortunately you can only play this game in short spurts once you run out of energy)

🔨 Overall Enjoyment: 4/5 (solid game but not being able to play for longer sessions puts a bit of a damper on it)

🔨 Total: 18/23

4. Miss Merge

Developer: TrueMyth Games Ltd

Release Date: Feb. 2021

This game is probably the most blatant rip-off of Merge Mansion, but only based on the fact that they steal the fake plot from the Merge Mansion ads and actually do something with it lol. In fact it’s because of that that I actually ended up liking this game more than Merge Mansion - it gives you want you wanted from those ads that wasn’t in the actual game.

Other than the ripped ad plot and a similar grandma character design this game actually is pretty unique from the original Merge Mansion and is more similar to Merge Friends in its gameplay. It has a similar cartoony art style, similar form of objectives (except instead of orders it’s just personal requests from characters) and similar way of unlocking parts of the board along the way.

This game probably has the best storyline of all the games, with an actual mystery unfolding throughout the plot line.

🍪 Art: 2/3 (similar to Merge Friends, the cartoony board items are charming but the character designs are lacking)

🍪 Story: 3/3 (I genuinely want to know what happens next and each character has their own personality, motives and relationship with your character/the other characters)

🍪 Gameplay: 4/5 (gameplay is most similar to Merge Friends but objectives are more random and not directly tied to the plot, and this is the only game without storage space for your items, although I haven’t really needed it all that much anyway)

🍪 Variety: 2/3 (there is a little more variety in items as you go along but not as many interesting and unique categories, you’ll mostly just be giving people various foods and beverages for a while)

🍪 Playtime vs. Wait Time: 3/4 (you can’t really play for long sessions, however, extra energy is pretty easy to come by so you can often play for longer than most of the other games)

🍪 Overall Enjoyment: 4/5 (definitely delivers as far as storyline but doesn’t do much more than any of the other decent games on this list)

🍪 Total: 18/23 (same score as Merge Friends but has less item variety and clearly copies a lot from other games)

5. Merge Mansion

Developer: Metacore Games Oy

Release Date: Sept. 16, 2020

I’ve already thoroughly covered this game in my original review of it, which you can read here. This was my first experience with this kind of game and it’s the first of its kind as far as I know, so I definitely have a fondness for it, although it has its pitfalls.

💐 Art: 3/3 (I really like the art in this game, you can see the detail that went into each individual item and I like the main character designs too. The 3D models of the characters shown in the garden are a little wonky though)

💐 Story: 1/3 (Very generic and boring “adult child returns home to discover mansion is a mess” plot)

💐 Gameplay: 3/5 (Overcrowding the board is a huge problem and there are certain spawners that automatically spawn what I consider nuisance items without you even tapping them. They’re nuisance items because if you need them for an objective that’s not until much later in the game; I’ve never needed these useless items yet and all they do is take up space. The objectives also aren’t very satisfying to complete other than it getting rid of some of the items taking up space. However merging is very satisfying and the game deserves credit for introducing me to this whole genre of merge games to begin with)

💐 Variety: 3/3 (tons of different items and spawners to discover, almost too many)

💐 Playtime vs. Wait Time: 2/4 (you can only play in short sessions before running out of energy but the sessions do tend to last a bit longer than in some other games, and you can get extra energy pretty often)

💐 Overall Enjoyment: 4/5 (although the overcrowding issue is frustrating it is a very fun game and keeps me coming back to keep discovering new items; this is the rating I gave it in my original review)

💐 Total: 16/23

6. Merge Matters

Developer: GreenPixel Ltd

Release Date: Dec. 31, 2020

This game seems a lot like a direct copycat of Merge Mansion; the art style and categories of items are extremely similar. It basically hits all the same boxes as Merge Mansion but I liked it just slightly less.

🪴 Art: 3/3 (the colors are more vibrant than Merge Mansion and overall the items are very nice to look at, the character design of the main girl is very pretty but I noticed that she seems to have a different art style than the grandpa, or maybe that’s just me)

🪴 Story: 1/3 (same problem as Merge Mansion, very generic homecoming story)

🪴 Gameplay: 3/5 (satisfying merges but same overcrowding problem, maybe even a little worse than Merge Mansion)

🪴 Variety: 3/3 (about the same level of variety as Merge Mansion)

🪴 Playtime vs. Wait Time: 2/4 (about the same as Merge Mansion although I tend to get less extra energy in this game but maybe just by bad luck)

🪴 Overall Enjoyment: 3/5 (although it’s nearly identical to Merge Mansion, I give it a lesser score here because if I had to pick between the two I would definitely choose Merge Mansion. I can’t say exactly why, but a range of small factors make Merge Mansion the more satisfying game to play)

🪴 Total: 15/23

7. Merge Villa

Developer: 4Enjoy Games

Release Date: Feb. 2021

So this isn’t the worst game ever, but it is by far the most lackluster out of all the games I played for this project. It definitely feels like the dollar store version of Merge Mansion. The art here is frankly ugly and the gameplay is very simplistic with very little item variety. The merging here also doesn’t feel very satisfying for some reason, maybe because there isn’t any sort of animation or proper sound effect to go along with the merging. It’s definitely a playable game but nothing to write home about.

🪛 Art: 1/3 (like I said, it’s ugly)

🪛 Story: 2/3 (it actually has a little more plot going on than Merge Mansion or Merge Matters although it still follows the same trope)

🪛 Gameplay: 3/5 (although it’s definitely simplistic and the merges are less satisfying than in Merge Mansion/Merge Matters, I’ve never had to worry about running out of room on the board, plus it has the added feature of letting you choose between three styles for each renovation similar to Merge Design and other games like Homescapes, which makes completing the objectives more satisfying)

🪛 Variety: 1/3 (very little variety, I’ve only seen and handful of item categories so far)

🪛 Playtime vs. Wait Time: 1/4 (abysmal, the play sessions are short, the spawners run out quickly and the energy takes twice as long to recharge as in other games)

🪛 Overall Enjoyment: 2/5 (playable but barely worth playing)

🪛 Total: 10/23

If you got here to the end, even if you just skimmed through, thank you so much for reading 😍 Follow me for more reviews and articles about those mobile games you’re always getting ads for 🥳

[freetobeafcknriot]

*queues this thing into the future after months of it being in the writing oven* hello! i'm the doctor :)

for midam week 2k21, day 7: melody. (inspired by an actual, iconic scene from doom patrol season 1 episode 8! i wrote this back in april after watching that episode and started to translate it afterward. you don't need to know the show, but if you want a reference or background music or you're simply curious, here's the scene on youtube!)

Adam has always liked music. The number of songs he used to, well, scream at the top of his lungs the first years in the Cage for the sake of keeping himself some company — no matter how much Michael told him to shut up — and some memories that the archangel has grown to know by heart are proof of this. He still sings sometimes, even now.

It's mostly little bits and pieces he picks up here and there between his shifts and a trip to the grocery store, but Michael listens to him nonetheless. Adam knows it, and in a way, he has come to understand why — he can feel Michael's grace tinkle, and the whirlwind of his very core buzzing with a warm sense of calm and contentment. It's kind of the reason why he keeps doing it, keeps humming stray melodies. And to be honest, music's good for Adam, too. It makes his soul flutter uniquely, or so Michael has noticed, not without a mix of confused endearment and curiosity. It's actually normal for pretty much any human out there, but well, it's not like Michael pays attention to any soul other than the one nestled next to his grace. Like now, for instance, while they sit in comfortable silence, watching a TV series that even Michael seems to be fairly interested in. Adam shifts for a bit, eyes on the screen, where the Negative Man has just started, to his surprise given what kind of character he is, to sing. And sure, it's probably because of the context and the lyrics and the bubbling crescendo of good feelings in his body but—the point is, that suddenly, from his side of the bond, Michael hears him think ‘what the hell’. Then he stands up and holds his hand out to the archangel. "Alright, come here," Adam says, eyes expectant and a tad bit nervous. A good kind of nervous though, Michael notes, studying him with furrowed brows. It doesn't take him much to understand what exactly Adam is asking for, and no matter how much he is always willing to humor him if there is anything that the archangel Michael has never done that is dancing. So he shifts his gaze from Adam's outstretched hand up to his face and pointedly says, "I think I'll pass, kid." Michael's lips are pursued in a deadpanned, but not an unamused or grumpy line, and that's enough for Adam to nudge him. Not to mention, he's most certainly not exposing himself to take no for an answer. "Oh, come on, old man," Adam presses, idly and unafraid to clash with Michael's stubbornness, the corners of his lips lifted upwards and his blue irises alight with something akin to mischief. "It'll be fun!" "Adam, I don't dance." "Just this once?" Michael quirks an eyebrow. Not much, but it still holds one hell of a whirlwind of expressions and gives Adam the impression to be looked at through and thorough — he is... bubbly, content, and a billion different little human things. And, while on the TV screen the main character's bandages start to disappear, making him look human again for the first time after decades, his soul's ringing feels a little softer. With an exasperated sigh, Michael eventually takes Adam's hand and stands up in a swift motion. "Just this once." Adam grins, cheery and maybe just a little smug. From this up close — aside from their breaths meeting and the buzzing sensation of skin against faux skin — the flow of his warm-colored mirth pulses more clearly than before. It's tangible; radiant.

(As if Michael didn't love him enough already.) ‘You're insufferable.’ Michael's grace whispers, but the tacit affection threaded within the words spoken over their bond is so evident that it glimmers in his apparition's eyes, and Adam, for the life of him, can't help but blush. Not too much alright, but, if only to ignore the light heat rising to his cheeks and for the sake of his so-called insufferableness, he shrugs in a what can you do kind of way and says, "Heh, you like me anyway and you know it." Michael looks him dead in the eyes. "Do I." "Hey." Michael tilts his head with an amused glint of his grace and really, sometimes, Adam almost misses when back in the days he was about as expressive as a marble statue. Or a rock, for that matter. He shakes his head with an equally playful scoff and takes a step back, pushing the coffee table with the back of his leg in order to have a little more space. Michael looks at his movements with rapt attention, specifically when Adam shows him where to put his hands and by consequence moves a little closer. "Here, just..." Adam's murmur is slightly muffled by all the singing that is going on on the TV screen, but that doesn't make the light flustered note on his voice any less obvious, clearly. His eyes meet Michael's, and Adam takes in a breath, their noses almost touching. He finds himself feeling a little off, a little mesmerized really—but not necessarily in a bad way. His lips twitch, glimmering irises and warm blue. "...hey," he exhales. His cheeks start to hurt a little because of the amount of smiling he stupidly feels like doing right now. Michael doesn't make that kind of ache go away with a brush of his grace, he's come to associate it with the good chemicals that fizzle all over their body and the happiest his vessel — his only friend, his... Adam—can be. So, the archangel mimics the gesture, in his own way, while tracing the fabric of Adam's shirt with his fingers. "Hey yourself," he says, voice is low and deep despite the light playfulness dripping from his words. Under his touch, Adam shivers and hurries to shrug it off. "Right, so, you gotta— relax your shoulders, there. Good. Don't think, just..." Adam starts to sway a little, left and right, with growing confidence as his movements begin to follow the music. He's not in perfect sync with it, at all really, but hey, they're in their home after all! His hand is pressed against Michael's side — it tingles a bit with the echo of the buzzing, unleashed power concealed within the archangel's apparition and the thrill Adam feels blossom in his chest first — and with a light pull, it sets a playful invitation to move along. Michael does as much, if a bit stiffly and mostly to humor him, and Adam chuckles. Dancing is not much different from eating or taking a shower or a bath, to Michael, that much is clear. It's better than eating, for sure, but it's still too human, for him at least, to come naturally or even make sense, or hold some kind of appeal. Nonetheless, Adam's sensations latch onto his own in the same way their fingers entwine. They flow in through lowered veils and walls, carrying genuine amusement and happiness, and Michael finds — unsurprisingly, for the most part — easy to take them in and let himself be carried away by them. Enough for his faux body to move more fluidly, naturally even. Which is ridiculous: he's a soldier, definitely not a dancer. (The things he does for love.) "Wow, you're not that bad, you know that?" Adam chimes in, all ringing soul and silvery voice. "Very funny," Michael scoffs, a pointed look that accompanies his dry remark. "I think I'll leave you to the rest of the song now. I'll be fine for the next couple of decades." He takes a step back, lifts his arm, and twirls Adam around.　 　　People like us, we've gotta stick together, 　　Keep your head up, nothing lasts forever... Adam laughs. And he spins on his heels, too; a fluid movement before he winds his arms around Michael's shoulders and finds himself closer to him, chest to chest. (Within their shared body, between grace and soul, it feels like pure euphoria.) 　　Here's to the damned, to the lost and forgotten... Their noses brush, tenderly. And damn it, he said decades, which—okay, Adam digresses, but damn, does it make his heart flutter! Still, stubbornly and gleeful, he grins, mirroring the state of their truest beings. "Too bad, you're not leaving me at the chorus, Michael, it's literally the best part to sing along!" "I'm not singing." And that's not debatable. "Nah, I know that. But I sure as hell am!" Because listen, Adam is in no way, shape, or form the kind of guy to be, you know, a party animal or anything of the sort. But this is far from the most embarrassing, stupid thing Michael saw him do. They're well past that, thank you very much, especially when it comes to his singing. Maura and Larry's voices resonate in the room, powerful and beautiful in their unity, Adam's own promptly in tow. "We are all misfits living in a world on fireee. . .!" he sings, spreading his arms, his soul vibrant and alight. Nested around it, the grumpy old solar fire projected right in front of him fills his body with an iridescent rush of warmth. Michael doesn't sing along with him, Adam doesn't expect him to, but his eyes crinkle in that fond way of his, and his body moves along the lively melody. He's mesmerized, captivated by the human in front of him so much that if any one of them were the type, they would say that suddenly, it's like they're not even in their little living room anymore. Music does that, too, doesn't it? Bringing colors and life to the people like them, that is. 　　Sing it for the people like us — Adam entwines their fingers. They are, of course, the mirror image of one another, and fit together like puzzle pieces. He stumbles a bit on the lyrics, which to be fair he is not all that familiar with, he's mostly following the characters' lead, but it's not important. It doesn't need to be perfect. Not that Adam would care, given how Michael takes most of his attention. "They can't do nothing to you," In tune with the music and with laugher on his lips, Adam steps towards Michael. "They can't do nothing to me," Michael's grace scoffs in mirth, and amusement dances in his eyes while he takes a step himself, his hands tight around Adam's and in motion. "This is the life that we choose—" It's a happy moment, Adam's voice is as vibrant as his soul, and yet, Michael senses the echo of an unspoken promise when he sings: "This is the life that we bleed." It sinks in the threads of his grace and the line of his mouth, as the quickening rhythm tries to slither into the lessening space between them and lights up Adam's grin. They meet in the middle, and their foreheads rest against each other despite the frantic rhythm. Quicker and livelier by the second. "So throw your fits in the air. Come out," Their hands clenched around each other and the tip of their noses bump playfully, causing Adam's voice to crack with amusement and a dash of sheepishness for the proximity. "Come out if you dare!" And it doesn't take much for Michael's impossibly blue eyes to slide from Adam's own to his beaming lips. "Tonight we're gonna...!" Then the distance is no more. 　　—change forever. Adam goes stiff out of surprise for a moment. Michael, eyes closed, can feel the tangible quirk of his lips, smiling against his own. Then Adam's arms are around Michael's neck, and when they part, his heart is beating furiously and he would very much like to spare an offhand comment of any kind, but he doesn't. Larry's daydream dissolves abruptly into harsh reality; the music, the song stop. Meanwhile though, in that odd little living room, for once in their very long lives, reality is sweeter. Not idyllic or easy, but quieter; tangible. Theirs.　 　　Sing it for the people like us, the people like us.

❪　ao3．❫

[delaber]

Just Friends (Part 1)

Story Summary: After moving to America for a 3-month long internship, you meet two interesting characters on a boring night out.

Word Count: 1.8K

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, minor drug use, smut, slight dom!Rafa, swearing, and loads of British references (sorry not sorry lol). 

Chapter Note: Sooooo.... This is my take on a multi chapter Rafael Casal x reader story. Feel free to ask and hit me up if you want to be on the tag list, have questions, suggestions, etc. /Best!

Other Parts: See Masterlist

"Four margaritas, please," you sighed to the bartender behind the counter. He could definitely tell that this wasn't your night, so without any attempt at smalltalk, he sent you a curt nod before reaching for the tequila on the shelf behind him. You watched as he poured a couple of ounces of tequila into each glass before you were ripped out of your trance by three shrill voices coming from the dance floor, apparently shrieking so because the DJ had just put on Katy Perry's 'California Gurls'.

You didn't even have to turn your head to know who had emitted the noise. Of course it was your company of the night; your new co-worker Miranda and her two college friends to whom she apparently had been dying to introduce you to. Exactly why, you had no idea and right now you were almost gagging for an excuse to leave the party early. But you reminded yourself that Miranda had been good to you ever since you had moved across the pond. You needed to be on your best behaviour if you wanted to return the favour and pretend that you were having a great night; and if you couldn't pull up your socks and un-ironically make a fool of yourself on the dance floor with her and her friends, you'd have to buy the party drinks. In all honesty, a small price to pay for Miranda's otherwise pleasurable friendship.

Ever since you had moved to California, Miranda had invited you over for dinner several times a week, she had helped you pick up a sofa from a guy on Craigslist, and she had even dragged you along to her family's Thanksgiving Dinner last night - even though you had told her that Europeans don't really care for the holiday - insisting that no one should be alone on Thanksgiving. So even though her friends were pure torture, you wanted to show Miranda that you appreciated everything she had done to make the transition of moving to a different continent easier for you.

'Still a couple of hours of 'fun' to go,' you looked at your watch, 'might need some much needed help to get through,' you thought to yourself while turning you attention back towards the bartender. "Hey - on second thought," you caught his attention, "could you make one of the margaritas a double, please?"

The bartender eyed you intently, "are you sure? You've been up here several times and a double margarita contains three ounces of tequila."

"Do you not want to make money?" you smiled at him.

"Good point," he laughed, "rough night?"

"Rough night!" you agreed with a smile, "I definitely need the three ounces."

"You could always come back for more," he winked at you.

"Oh trust me, I will."

You realised that the bartender had mistaken your words for flirting as a small smile erupted on his lips. He ran his gaze over your face and body, eyes dropping a little too low for your taste. A shame, really. He had been quite cute up until that.

"Double it is," he smiled slickly while running his eyes over your chest before pouring more tequila in to one of the four glasses in front of him.

Turning away from the slightly douchy bartender, your eyes went back to the dance floor where the three girls were doing some weird attention-seeking dance to the chorus of the Katy Perry song, apparently desperate to let all the people in the bar know that they were indeed California girls themselves - just like almost everybody else in the damn bar. You were in downtown Los Angeles after all.

You could not wait to down your double margarita.

Suddenly, you realised that Miranda had caught you looking at them, and that she was currently gesturing for you to join them on the dance floor. "Shit," you mumbled as you pretended that you hadn't seen her and quickly turned your face to the other side of the room, all at once noticing two loud men sitting at the bar next to you. A handsome man with wild curls was laughing whole-heartedly at something that his equally-handsome blonde friend was telling him about. The blonde man was gesticulating wildly with his hands, using both sound effects and theatrical face expressions to get his point across to his friend. He even managed to spice up his story with eccentric details and anecdotes that were probably meaningless for the morale of the story but funny nonetheless. Listening silently to him, you found yourself almost wishing that he was talking to you, the way his face constantly shifted, his eyebrows persistently retracting and retreating, going up and down in time with his well-timed sound effects and wild expressions. Definitely a guy with a big personality. He seemed interesting.

His friend with the curls, on the other hand, seemed a bit more reserved and quiet. He was without a doubt very fond of the loud blonde guy, otherwise he probably would've told him to quiet down a bit. You thought to yourself that you definitely would've. But the curly-haired guy seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the blonde man's company as he kept laughing at his antics without showing an inch of an urge to shush him. Incredible, really. Instead, the curly-haired guy encouraged his blonde friend in the form of nods and warm, vibrant smiles.

Both men seemed very fond of each other, and you couldn't help but think to yourself that they looked as if they were on a very successful date.

When the blonde guy was done with his obnoxiously loud story, he joined his friend in laughing, the sound knocking you completely to the ground.  Immediately attracted to both of the men in front of you, you couldn't tear your gaze away from them - and suddenly it hit you; you had seen the pair of them before. Where? Did they work at the hospital too? You eyed them suspiciously for a couple of seconds while trying to come up with places you might recognise them from. You made a mental note to remind yourself to ask Miranda later if she had seen them hanging around the lab lately.

You were so preoccupied with making mental notes to yourself that you didn't even realise that you had been caught staring before it was too late. "Hey Diggs," the blonde man nudged his friend in the ribs while nodding towards you, "I think we have company."

You were whipped back to reality as you realised that you suddenly had the attention of both men in front of you. "Oh!" You spluttered, embarrassed by how unsubtle you'd been. The blonde guy seemed a mixture of annoyed and amused by the entire situation while his friend - who was apparently called Diggs - seemed a bit more uncomfortable with being stared at.

"I am so, so sorry for blatantly ogling at you like that!" You continued. A small smile erupted on the blonde man's lips but neither him nor his friend spoke so you continued, "it's just... Well, you both look really familiar to me. I feel like I know you from somewhere... Do we work at the same place maybe?" you tried.

The two men shared a look that you didn't understand. "Well, that's hard to answer when we don't know where you work," The blonde man said while slowly drawing out every word as if you were particularly dimwitted.

"Touché," you tried your most charming smile, hoping it would get them to warm up to you. Otherwise, meeting them at work on Monday would surely be an awkward affair, "I work at the medical lab over at Sinai Hospital," you tried, "I think I might know you from there?"

Diggs looked relieved as he sent you a soft smile, "I assure you; you do not."

The blonde man cackled, sipping his beer slowly while sending his friend amused looks that were immediately reciprocated. You were surprised to see exactly how bemused the two men in front of you were. It wasn't a weird question, you thought to yourself. Once more, you looked between the two of them while trying to ascertain where you might've seen them before, "...and you haven't been to - I don't know - a medical conference recently? As key note speakers or something of the sort?"

The blonde man laughed obnoxiously loud and pointed between himself and his friend Diggs, "Sweetheart, do we look like lab nerds to you?"

A bit offended by his continuous snarkiness you couldn't help but retort, "Well, do I?" you pointed to your glittery dress and heeled sandals, "cause if I don't, please tell me how I should dress according to lab-fashion, mr. Lagerfeld."

Now it was Diggs' turn to laugh while the blonde man's eyes grew wide at your quick reply. It took him a mili-second or two to come to his senses but eventually, he too laughed charmingly while repeating your words from earlier, "touché right back at you."

You couldn't help but think to yourself that they both looked awfully cute - even the fairly snarky blonde guy who you were getting annoyed with now.

The bartender's voice ripped you back to reality as he placed a tray of four margaritas in front of you, "that one's the double," he smiled at you while pointing to a glass that had a slice of lime on the rim.

"Oh, thank you," you accepted the drinks from the bartender while sliding him a 50-dollar bill.

"See you later, Margarita Girl" the bartender winked at you before he turned to the next customer.

With the tray in hand, you turned to the two mystery men next to you, "Well, I guess I thought I knew you but I obviously don't. I'll let you get back to your date or whatever you were doing."

"Date?" The blonde guy laughed.

You sent him a shrug, "what do I know. Take care."

He sent you a challenging expression, "you're leaving before you've figured out where you known us from?"

You sent him a shrug, "guess I am."

"Are you sure it won't bother you for the rest of the evening?" he smirked

"Oh, I guess it'll be a haunting mystery 'til the day I'm on my deathbed," you drew out the words the same way he had done only a couple of minutes before. To hell with awkward situations if you should run into them again; it was worth it just to see the snarky guy's smile freeze slightly as he furrowed his eyebrows. "Gentlemen," you made a motion to leave, "enjoy your evening."

Just before turning on your heel, you saw the blonde guy do a visible double-take. Maybe he wasn't used to women turning away from him when he so obviously was trying to neg.

Behind your back, the two men looked at your swaying hips while you walked away from them. When you disappeared in the dancing crowd, they faced each other, both silently wondering who you were and why you hadn't shown more interest. This was all so new to them.

[ruewrites]

On the Road

AO3

Ship: Solomon/Asmodeus

Word Count: 2201

Warnings: None

A/N: Day 2 of Solodeus Week! I decided to do Road Trip this time around as I've done some requests surrounding cooking (not that I mind writing about Solomon's interesting culinary skills). Anyways, I hope you all enjoy!

Asmo played with the radio dial, switching it back and forth. Sometimes he hit static, talk shows, but he hadn't found a song he liked yet. Solomon's little old car was packed with their things and Asmo wondered from time to time if he could actually see out of the back, but at this point he was too afraid to ask.

Solomon's car was a rickety old thing that had Asmo concerned on more than one occasion. Honestly, he was surprised that it had made it this far on the trip. Solomon could afford a nicer one, Asmo knew he could, but Solomon stated that this one had "character" whatever that meant. If it meant "will probably leave us abandoned on the side of the road one day" Asmo could see himself agreeing. But when push came to shove, it did work well enough to take them on a little road trip. Taking them back would be another story.

"I meant to ask earlier," one of Solomon's hands rested outside the window as the other stayed steadfast on the wheel, "Is that a new skirt?"

Oh, so he had been attentive. Asmo had been wondering when he'd ask. His only kement right now was that he couldn't stand up and show off. He had half a mind to make Solomon pull over so he could show off.

The last road trip he’d been on was meant to serve as a retreat in the human world. That also meant that Asmo hadn’t gotten any alone time with Solomon. Yes, shenanigans had played a rather significant role, but Lucifer had his eyes on them like a hawk. Anything that Asmo had brought to show off his legs had mysteriously disappeared until the end of the retreat. Not to mention, Lucifer had tactically placed himself between the two of them whenever he deemed them as being “too close”. No one else noticed, but Asmo certainly had. He loved his brothers, he did, but Lucifer had been a little too protective for his tastes on that trip. He knew he wasn’t fond of Solomon, but really? He was a grown demon, he could care for himself.

But he didn’t have any annoying protective big brothers on this trip, just him and Solomon, and Solomon noticing his new clothes.

"It is," Asmo confirmed, moving his hand away from the dial, content with whatever was now softly playing in the background, "You should know that I picked out an entire wardrobe just for this little trip."

"It looks nice," Solomon's eyes glanced down to his thighs before returning to the road.

"I think I look a little more than nice thank you very much."

Solomon only chuckled in response. "Of course. Anyways we'll be coming up on our first stop soon."

"And you can take all sorts of pictures of me?"

"If that's what you wish."

Asmo grinned before looking down at his D.D.D. He'd taken a few pictures ready of him in the passenger seat for his Devilgram. Obviously most of his followers went crazy when he managed to post content of him and Solomon together. Asmodeus was attractive already, but having an insanely powerful and hot sorcerer as a boyfriend? Oh they ate it up. Of course there was the occasional jealous fan or ex popping up in his comment, but he didn't even need to lift a finger, everyone else would take care of them for him.

Soon gravel cracked underneath them and the car came to a stop. "Alright, this is our first stop," Solomon undid his seat belt and got out of the car. Asmo looked up from his phone and his nose scrunched up ever so slightly.

Solomon opened his door and he immediately voiced his thoughts, "Solomon, why is our first stop a giant pile of rocks?" Large slabs of stone laid toppled over and broken before him. Some were still upright and intact, but even those looked like they would crumple at any moment. Asmo could already imagine the dust clogging up his pours and sinuses the moment he stepped in there.

"It's not a pile of rocks," Solomon took Asmo's hand, helping him out of the car, "They're ruins. I've read about them before so I just had to mark it as one of our stops.”

Oh of course he had to go and fall for a nerd, but he was a hot nerd. A hot nerd who loved him more than anything. So he let Solomon take his hand as he led him into the ruins.

Many of their stops were akin to this one. Ancient artifacts, buildings long lost to time, old magic, so on and so on. Solomon had kept his promise, finding wonderful spots to take pictures of him for his Devilgram, and each new photo had all of his little darlings blowing up his phone. Even if Asmo wasn’t interested in the stops too much so far, he did adore Solomon’s dazzling smile. He got so excited, talking fast and gesturing as he explained every little thing to Asmo. Every now and again he’d even pull a book out from his bag and compare pictures to the real thing. His voice was full of life as he scribbled down little notes.

And so who was to judge him if he got a little doe-eyed gooey hearted every time he opened his mouth? What did they have any right to say a thing if he kissed his cheek and nuzzled into his side?

Even if he didn’t like these things, he liked Solomon, and spending time with Solomon was something he would always treasure.

Each night was different too. Some nights they slept in the car, some nights they found a nice hotel, sometimes a small motel that had Asmo concerned about bed bugs, but each time he got to spend a night by Solomon’s side. Some nights he was even able to coax Solomon into having a bit of fun if they were both in the mood, and other nights he was more than content to just doze off in his arms.

The food had also been interesting too. Asmo had always known the human world was diverse, but every few places they stopped seemed to have an entirely different pallet. The only downside would be that he had to fear for the future as Solomon discussed his plans to recreate certain meals when they got home.

Asmo would have to work double time to make sure that didn’t happen.

It was their seventh day on the road, when they made a rather special stop. Asmo hadn’t really been paying attention to where they were going, he was much more focused on flipping through the pictures he and Solomon had taken together while on the road. He was looking for a new lock screen, one he could flaunt. He had just found the perfect one when Solomon spoke up again.

“We’re here,” Solomon said as they came to yet another stop. He marked off something on his D.D.D. and turned the car off. He’d been keeping track of all the places they stopped at, striking them out when they arrived. Solomon had spent at least a month planning this trip from what Asmo knew, and he’d spent a lot of time thinking about where he wanted to go. However, he did sound a little more giddy about this one compared to the others.

This parking spot was a little more secluded. Trees, bushes, and vines surrounded them. Asmo kicked a few of the stones at his feet. Unlike the other stops, there didn’t seem to be anyone around. They’d pulled off the main roads to get onto a small dirt road, and the car was almost entirely hidden. “I think that you’ll enjoy this one. I’ve been here before and I always wanted to take you here.”

Asmo hesitated for a moment. This could either be an incredibly wonderful thing, or an incredibly terrible thing knowing his lover.

Solomon was standing in front of a deer path, holding his hand out for Asmo to take it, “Are you coming?”

Oh and that look in his eyes… That look was all it took.

Asmo wasn’t sure how long they’d been walking down the path. At one point Solomon had offered to carry him lest Asmo twist his ankle in his heels. Eventually Solomon muttered something under his breath and pulled back a curtain of vines, motioning for Asmo to go in first.

Asmo couldn’t stop the small gasp that left his lips.

Before his eyes was the most gorgeous oasis he had ever seen. Vibrant flora surrounded them as water tumbled down from a ledge and into a smooth rocky basin below. “When did you-?”

“I found it on one of my travels,” Solomon started, stripping off his shirt and tossing it to the ground below, “The moment I saw it, I knew I had to take you here, and what better convenience than to make it a stop on our trip?”

Asmo hadn’t even realized that both of his hands were covering his mouth. He couldn’t believe this. He had to be dreaming. He must have fallen asleep in the passenger’s seat when Solomon was driving. They were probably still on the road with the radio fighting with static in the background. Cold hands enveloped his own, bringing them to his bare chest.

“Don’t you want to get in?”

The water was a lot deeper than Asmo expected, coming up a little past his waist. He was careful not to get his hair wet. After all, Solomon had told him that they’d most likely end up sleeping in the car tonight, unless they could find something on their way. Solomon threaded their fingers together, his free hand wandered up Asmo’s waist.

“This is why I was so excited to bring you on this trip,” his eyes sparkled even more than when he was gushing over the ruins, “All I could think about was how much you’d love it here when I first found it.”

He leaned in closer, brushing his lips against Asmo’s.

If there was one thing that made this place even better, it was having Solomon in front of him looking nothing short of perfection. From each lean muscle, glistening with water, his perfect v-line, all the way to his pact marks twisting and turning all over his body. Of course, Asmo’s eyes were always drawn to his own pact mark, and he couldn’t help but lean in and press his lips against it.

“I love it,” Asmo murmured against his skin, “I love it so much Solomon. Thank you.”

They stayed like this as they slowly sunk down into the water.

***

The occasional car lit up the highway as they drove on. Asmo had stolen one of Solomon’s sweatshirts from the back to stay warm. His hair was still damp, and fresh curls had slowly started to take from. Solomon was humming softly along with the radio, fingers tapping on the wheel as he did so. He’d allowed his bangs to be pinned back as his hair dried, and if that wasn’t a wonderful sight Asmo didn’t know what was. He snuggled deeper into the hoodie, a sleepy smile stretching over his face.

“Pull over at the next exit,” Asmo murmured, his fingers moving over to rest on Solomon’s thigh.

“I can drive a little longer.”

“I know, but I want to fall asleep with you.” Asmo was trying to fight sleep, but he was slowly succumbing. His beauty routine be damned, he wanted to find some way to cuddle in the backseat. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but he could have Solomon’s warmth next to him.

He could see Solomon’s face light up a little as another car passed them by. Oh he was so beautiful.

Without another word, Solomon pulled off on the next exit until he came to a place where he could comfortably part for the night. There wasn't an inn or a motel in sight, and that was okay. Situating themselves in the back came with a few curses and giggles and everything in between. After what seemed like hours, they finally became situated, pillows and blankets and all. Their fingers were threaded together, and grey eyes staring adoringly at him.

Screw it.

Sleep could wait.

No brothers.

No angels.

No one to bother them.

What could he say? Asmo was an opportunist, and it wasn’t like they needed to be anywhere early tomorrow.

With a giggle, Asmo was yanking a rather surprised Solomon on top of him. He wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted as he was planting kisses on his boyfriend’s face as Solomon struggled with finding places to put his limbs, but it didn’t matter.

Asmo always felt like his most authentic self when he was with Solomon. He couldn’t think of anyone else in which he’d been a giggling mess of tangled limbs. He was Asmo’s other half, and he counted and saved every moment they shared together.

He was going to cherish this trip.

They had days ahead of them, and Asmo wanted to make it memorable.

[jacksgreysays]

For fake title: still waters (run deep) character: Shisui and or theme: Uzushio

The fisherman doesn't look surprised when Shisui arrives, not by the suddenness of his appearance or his age or the fact that, excepting the crow on his shoulder, he is entirely alone. No, the fisherman is not surprised, but that doesn't mean he's relaxed either: a large man, nearly two heads taller than Shisui with muscle honed through hard work. But it is a civilian level strength. For all that the fisherman is accustomed to shinobi, he is no match for one.

"You're headed to Uzushio, huh?" the fisherman says, less a question than an accusation without any heat.

"Yes, I am" Shisui answers anyway with a polite sort of cheer; there is a reason why he's the one being sent to Uzushio and not one of his cousins. "Tazuna-san said you're the best at navigating the whirlpools."

The fisherman gives him a skeptical glance which is fair. What Tazuna actually said was that if Shisui was fool enough to go to Uzushio, then this particular fisherman would at least make sure Shisui's fool head didn't get dashed on the rocks of the shore.

But the fisherman shrugs, accepting enough, and tilts his head at a small wooden boat tied to the dock with nets bulging with fish. "That one's mine. Are you in a rush? Because I have to get these to the monger first."

"No, I can wait," Shisui says, because that's the polite thing to do and if this fisherman is his best way to Uzushio then its worth waiting for... except, as Kansoku reminds him with a sharp tug on his hair, he is actually kind of in a rush. Shisui is a shinobi, so of course he's smelled worse, and so he doesn't wrinkle his nose at all when he offers, "Would you like some help? Four hands are faster than two."

"Alright, kid, I'll take you up on that." The fisherman's expression lightens into a wide, friendly smile and Shisui who can't help himself, returns it with one of his own. The fisherman introduces himself, "You can call me Kaiza."

---

A few weeks ago, Hidden Rain broke their decades-long silence with increasingly concerning news:

Hanzo the Salamander long dead.

A heretofore unknown organization leading the village.

Active recruitment and retainment of various S-rank shinobi.

A grudge against one Shimura Danzo, former council member of Hidden Leaf.

One year--maybe even as little as a month or two previous--would have made this the most momentous occasion in international shinobi politics since the last world war.

Unfortunately, it only just barely makes top three in the past year.

---

"So, kid," Kaiza says as they're coasting over the waves at a clip much faster than Shisui would have thought possible for the small wooden boat, "You're from Leaf, right?"

"Yes." It's literally on his forehead and more straightforward than some of the other villages' symbols, but Shisui gives him the benefit of the doubt. Kaiza is a civilian, after all. And to be fair, some of the Uchiha elders were considering changing it to match the new regime, but Fugaku-san--sorry, Hokage-sama, Shisui's still getting use to it--felt it would be best to at least try to maintain a semblance of stability.

He doesn't know if news of Konoha's turmoil has reached this far. Or if the people of Wave even care. They certainly didn't bat an eye at Shisui's questions of their new neighbor--old neighbor? returned neighbor?--all incurious shrugs and silence or entertaining but unhelpful tall tales.

"Have you ever met another shinobi?" Shisui asks conversationally, though he already knows the answer to that question. "Am I your first shinobi passenger?"

"I've seen a few Mist ninja from a distance. A very far distance, thankfully," Kaiza responds, casual and earnest; Shisui sees no reason to doubt him. "Never had a ninja join me sailing on my boat before, though. Not one that helped me unload my haul. You're a good kid." 

Shisui has killed more men than there had been fish wriggling in those nets. He appreciates the sentiment anyway. Kaiza is an honest sort of man, Shisui is glad to have met him.

He could use more straightforwardness in his life.

---

The Mist Rebellion overthrew the Yondaime Mizukage after an almost tidy public assassination and thirty six hours of civil war with minimal casualties.

Terumi Mei, newly coronated Godaime Mizukage, only mentions the "grace and goodwill of allies." Neither of those words particularly apply to the surly looking Momochi Zabuza standing two steps back and one step to the right of her, but if there is another ally in the works they're not claiming the limelight.

Hidden Mist has always been a tumultuous village. Tidiness aside, nothing was surprising about it.

---

It's strange.

When Shisui pictured Land of Whirlpools, he had a vague idea mostly cobbled together from the grey, cloudy skies of Mist, or the eternal deluge of Rain, or even the foggy, sepia tones of Wave.

He was not expecting clear skies almost impossibly blue and lush treetops tall enough to rival the forests of Konoha. The beach is pink.

It's vibrant. It's strange. There's a giant chakra turtle monster happily splashing in the shallows, waving tendrils in their direction as a greeting.

The sharp jagged rocks and erratic whirlpools between them and the shore are real, at least, so Shisui hasn't been completely fooled, but from the wry, almost apologetic smile on Kaiza's face, Shisui's not great at hiding his hurt.

Kaiza pulls out a decorative coin--what Shisui had thought was some kind of superstitious fisherman charm that he'd touched before they set sail from Wave--and passes his thumb along the surface. After a moment or two, the swirling slows, the water calms, and the passage is traversable. A small figure appears on the pink beach. The giant chakra turtle monster reaches a gentle tendril out and is metaphorically met half way by an arm absolutely minuscule in comparison.

"Don't worry, kid," Kaiza says reassuringly. It's the kind of statement that would be accompanied with a clap on the shoulder, but whether the fisherman can sense Shisui's betrayal or, more likely, he's been around more shinobi and knows better, he keeps his distance. "Tazuna vouched for you and you didn't even get mad when the monger threw a fish at you and said it was a cultural tradition."

Kansoku had been less than pleased and Shisui's shirt still smells like fish. 

"You'll be fine. She'll like you."

---

There is an oasis in Land of Wind. An earthquake in Land of Hot Springs caused the controlled collapse of a temple and new arrangements of the surrounding town's infrastructure. A dilapidated and forgotten shrine in the outskirts of Land of Fire was completely relocated across the ocean. Only the first has any sort of influence on shinobi politics and even that has more to do with the Yondaime Kazekage's sudden attitude adjustment than anything else.

But the revival of a nation thought long dead with the power to back it up?

Well, even if Konoha is still struggling to cobble together a government, it's the sort of occasion to send one of their best and brightest as an ambassador even if there's no firm idea what might be on the other end of the journey.

---

"Hello, Uchiha Shisui of Hidden Leaf," says the girl on the shores of Land of Whirlpools. Somehow, even with the grown man twice his size and the giant chakra turtle monster, she's the scarest thing on the beach.

Which is still bafflingly, vibrantly pink.

"I heard you were asking questions about Uzushio," she says, with a smile as dangerous and beautiful as the land she's made her home. "Let's talk."

~

A/N: Sometimes, you’re in a writer’s block and a prompt just punches you into the right headspace. Thank you, damnsmartblueboxes. (You know I have so many Uzushio feelings, how dare you! :D)

If anyone wants to ask me questions about this, please do. Please.

Oh, but I should clarify here: this was written intending to be in a post-Split Gardens!verse. But if you’re reading this you probably have already read some of the Gardens!verse stuff so...

Also, yes, Kaiza is the fisherman who would’ve been killed by Gato and now kinda works for Shikako as a more active and less suspicious Sazanami from the Land of Stone Arc. I mean, kinda all of Wave works for Shikako? But in a much more benevolent way than that might imply. They’re fond of their weird neighbor with her giant chakra turtle monster.

(Also, also, yes, Tetsuki Kaiza does get her name from this Kaiza though in the Naruto world she actually never has the name Kaiza. She goes from orphan Tetsuki no-family-name to either Tetsuki Utsugi or Agent Shu. Depending on how fucked her situation is)

Also, also, also: Ask Box Advent Calendar 2020!

[solynaceawrites]

End of Sanctuary

Fandom: Nanatsu no Taizai | The Seven Deadly Sins           Characters: Mael, Meliodas Tags: Post-Canon, Character Study, Canon Character Death, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort written for @nntzine​​ Summary: After the defeat of the Demon King, Mael returns to the only home he knows and engages in a festival to honor the ones who were lost.Originally written for Nanatsu no Taizine: Volume II and published in celebration of autumn.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

The sun is low in the sky when he reaches his home. Former home, he supposes, landing lightly in what was once the grand courtyard: the immaculate marble has cracked and fallen, the flowers overgrown by thistles and weeds. Mael tilts his head back, taking in the ruins of the spires of the Supreme Deity’s palace, listening to the wind whistle forlornly through the shattered windows and holes in the walls, and wonders if this is their punishment for their hubris. Dead leaves whisper through the grass, like the voices of so many ghosts; with a sigh, he kneels, sweeping dirt away from the walk. This is the place of his birth, and he remembers with a fond sort of ache the feasts and festivals that were held here, one in particular which was always dear to him.

The Feast of All Souls began as a prayer. To remember those who’d come before, goddesses lit candles within their homes and laid offerings of food and wine on their doorsteps. Eventually, with the war looming over their clan, the Supreme Deity had made it a public event, one which all were encouraged to attend. Private offerings were still left, yet the majority of the evening was spent in the city streets, buying masks and scraps of finest parchment upon which to write hopes, dreams, or words of remembrance. And, once the sun had set and the world was cool and quiet, in the grand courtyard a chosen member of their race would light the torches and dance, and those little bits of people’s lives would be fed to the bonfire, to reach the next life. Mael rubs a dandelion between his thumb and forefinger thoughtfully. There is no one here, and yet . . .

He has no place in Britannia, nor a reason to return there. Too much suffering is on his shoulders, too much grief for him to express his own. And with the role he played in Escanor’s passing — how foolish he had been to believe that Elizabeth could heal the damage inflicted by Sunshine, how naive to trust in Escanor’s words over his own understanding of the man’s life — he would no doubt face scathing ire from the Sins, who loved Escanor as a comrade and a friend. And the Celestial Realm is in ruins, hardly fit to live in. Mael is well and truly alone in this world, and he presses himself to his feet and lifts his gaze to study the first blooming stars. He does not know where he will go from here, but he decides that, before he meets whatever fate is in store for him, he will honor those who lost their lives in this senseless war. 

He will reignite the flames of the Feast.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Mael stands in the center of the courtyard, watching as the sun begins its slow trek below the horizon. It is cold now, the seasons caught between autumn and winter, and the ivy that climbs the stone pillars is a vibrant, otherworldly green against the tawny hues of the rest of the world, and his breath condenses on the inside of the mask he wears. Only the Grace that had returned to him keeps him from truly feeling the chill; he is shirtless, his feet bare, and without Sunshine he would be trembling. Surrounding him are torches, burning brightly against the oncoming gloom, plates of food and wine at their bases, and a pile of dead branches waits for him to set it alight. His mind is as clear as it can be, his limbs tense for the dance he will perform. When the sun kisses the edge of the sky, he leans over and presses one of his own torches to the kindling, and the bonfire, soaked in oil, roars to life.

Then Mael begins to dance.

It is Ludoshel he thinks of first, the brother he had all but worshipped in his youth. He remembers his first flight—more of a glide, really, his wings too small and his feathers too new to hold him aloft for more than a few moments—how Ludoshel beamed with pride as he landed awkwardly on his feet and ruffled the hair that never laid as prettily as his own. Nights passed with stories, his brother tracing the constellations in the sky and telling them how they came to be: the Warrior, forever chasing the Queen he loved; the clever Fox that marked the beginning of autumn, the Saint and the King and the Dove, until Mael’s head was full of starlight and dreams. Ludoshel’s comfort when he was injured, his hands calloused yet soothing as he bandaged scrapes. Ludoshel, his voice hoarse with held-back tears as he clapped Mael on the shoulder and congratulated him on becoming an Archangel. His brother, and confidante, who had his flaws yet was always good to him. 

Mael flicks out an arm, the torch in that hand dangling by his fingertips. To my brother, without whom I would not be. I thank you.

Escanor comes next. Though they had barely known each other at all, the man had been full of kindness and love, the type of person Mael wished he had been three thousand years ago. Their meeting had been violent, to be sure, but even then, even as Estarossa, he had felt a genuine respect for the one who stood against his decree, and knows now that Sunshine did not aid him in that feat. Escanor had not been capable of hatred; his heart was too pure, his capacity for understanding too great. Even in his grief, he had not been cruel, each action meant to end Mael’s life as quickly and cleanly as possible. Well, perhaps that is too generous, but whether or not Escanor knew that Cruel Sun would cause a slow death, Mael does not know. They had been bound by Sunshine and Mael had found him, and Escanor had pleaded with him, not once but twice, refusing to accept the self-loathing brewing within Mael’s chest. 

He crouches, twisting the torches over his head in a shower of sparks. To Escanor, who was all that I hoped to be and more. I thank you. 

Sariel, who taught him to read the affection that lurked beneath abrasive words, and Tarmiel, the one who had never given up his hope that Mael was good, both dead by his hands. Sariel’s tongue had always been like sandpaper, yet he had been the one to teach him how to be agile, how to stay moving in the air so no one enemy could get close enough to do him harm. Tarmiel, gentle and sweet, had encouraged him, shown him the proper way to grip a sword and how he could use his size to make his opponents think he was slower than he was to keep the upper hand. Monspeet, an unwilling victim of the illness that had festered within Mael as the decree at away at his sanity; Derieri, who sacrificed herself in an attempt to save him; Oslo, who was Rou, a loyal companion that devoured Mael’s magic so that the Fairy King could live. 

Without that, without them, he would not have survived, and he lets the fire lick his shoulders as he draws the torches along his chest. To those who gave themselves so that I would be free. I thank you.

In one fluid movement, he lunges forward and places the torches atop the fire, his magic working to heal his hands even as they burn. Then he steps back, removing the mask he had carved from silver aspen and the ceremonial trousers woven from red-dyed wool before placing them within the pile as well, the flames devouring the hopes and prayers held within the objects, turning them into smoke that will hopefully reach the souls they are meant for. The sun is long gone now, the moon at the apex of its journey, and the sweat that had formed as he danced grows cold along his legs and back. Mael picks up the flask of wine he’d brought for himself and opens it to drink, uncaring of his nudity. He must watch until the fire dies, and then he can rest until dawn. Checking the offerings will come in the morning; so he sits and drinks and fasts till only embers remain, smoldering against the shattered stone.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

The next morning, he exits his makeshift home, exhausted and more than a little hungover. A quick Invigorate cures him of the latter, but his bones ache as he treks by to the courtyard to clean up the remnants from the Feast. It is an unusually bright day, the sky clear and free of clouds, and the sun warms his back as he kneels down to inspect the first of the offerings, finding it nearly gone. With a faint smile, he moves to the next, and the next, and the last, and each of them has been disturbed more than the birds are capable of, the gifts picked thoroughly and more than half-missing. The sign of a good Feast and answered prayers lifts a weight Mael hadn’t realized he was carrying from his shoulders. He knows that he is by no means forgiven for the atrocities he committed, yet the sight of empty baskets puts him at ease; perhaps now those left behind can begin their healing. He pauses next to the remains of the bonfire to tilt his head back, studying the clear blue stretching endlessly above his head. 

“Autumn,” Ludoshel says, placing a hand on his shoulder with a smile, “is a time of rest so that we can be reborn anew, like all that the Supreme Deity’s light touches.”

“I miss you,” Mael replies.

His voice echoes flatly in the air, and he closes his eyes against the grief that swells within him. Rest to be reborn anew. 

Footsteps crunch over the dirt, drawing Mael’s attention to the ruined stairs. To his surprise, Meliodas is standing there, his hands in his pockets as he surveys their surroundings, his brows furrowed with what can only be contemplation. Then his green eyes cut across the theater to Mael, and his usual grin slides into place. “I thought I’d find you here,” he says cheerfully, crossing to him. “Or hoped, actually, but Elizabeth said this is where you were most likely to go.”

Mael can only stare at him while his mind tries to comprehend Meliodas being in the Celestial Realm. “Why?” he asks.

He supposes it could have meant why are you looking for me, or why did Elizabeth send you, and Meliodas chooses to answer the former. “I have a proposition for you.” He scratches the back of his head. “Well, the Sins do. With Escanor gone, we’re short one, and all of us are used to fighting with Sunshine around. So we want you to join us. There probably won’t be much fighting,” Meliodas adds when Mael stiffens, “since the war is over, which means you’ll mostly be helping run the Boar’s Hat and keeping the peace when we have to.”

He isn’t sure what to make of the offer. “I’m not sure I’m suited to becoming his legacy.”

Meliodas waves his hand dismissively. “No one’s asking for that, or for you to become the Sin of Pride. We’re offering a home, and a chance to do something other than stay here, alone.” His gaze is calculating now as he looks at Mael, almost as though he is daring him to refuse, and he nearly smiles as the old, Estarossa-like desire to meet the challenge swells within him.

“Alright,” Mael agrees. “I’ll go with you. On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“Buy me a drink.”

Meliodas grins, holding out a hand that Mael clasps warmly within his own, and there’s a rush of fear, longing and hope that makes him tremble. Be reborn, he thinks. I’ll try my best, brother.

[ganymedesclock]

I kinda wanna hear your thoughts on NiGHTS, if you don't mind me asking. I just really like your speculation/headcanon posts!

I have great affection and great frustration for NiGHTS, honestly.

There’s a lot to love about the series. It’s got exquisite visuals and a really cool concept. While the gameplay isn’t completely my cup of tea, I think it’s a novel innovation. The designs of Nights and Reala, their bond and conflict, are really interesting and Wizeman’s a pretty impressive chunk of cosmic horror. I even feel like some of the dislike of Owl in JoD was unwarranted; yes, he was made the face of the slightly clumsy tutorial mechanism but it’s hard for me to not care a little that Nights, who is privately lonely in ways they seem disinclined to admit to anyone, clearly has some mutual fondness for this fussy bird dad.

But I definitely feel like the games have their problems- and I’ll focus here mostly on JoD because I feel like NiD itself was a pretty minimalist piece flying more on emotion than deep lore and it was successful in that regard.

I feel like JoD in particular struggled to decide if this was a story about Nights and Reala or a story about Will and Helen, and while they could’ve made room for both, it would’ve required more integration than they pulled off, and it ultimately weakens both narratives. 

Nights never really meaningfully reaches a conclusion with Reala. They get angry enough to hurt him, feel bad about it, Reala goes on to take their new friends hostage, and Nights gets angry again and, seemingly, finishes Reala off, either personally, or indirectly because their attempt to kill Wizeman would affect Reala too. Even the nature of their sacrifice is hampered here because they don’t really sell us on what it is about Will and Helen that makes things so different. I take issue with the short-lived archie Nights’ comic’s invention about the “two perfect dreamers born once a century” but it at least explains all the hullabaloo about these specific people. I don’t mean that to be callous- but there has to be a reason Nights makes their stand here and now, even if it’s for internal reasons rather than Will and Helen, and we don’t get a sense of why that is.

Will and Helen themselves have the seeds of interesting or compelling problems, but they aren’t really brought home either. The conclusions they make don’t really feel of a piece with the nature of their issues. We don’t really find out what about Helen is ‘fragile’, and you have to read into things to see the contrast between Will’s lonely, ‘abandoned playground’-like second dream and the vibrant potential of his third dream, this fear that if you can’t grow up people will leave you behind in childhood.

JoD takes from its roots in NiD that it is good at evoking emotions. Many of the ‘major beat’ cutscenes land with really impressive intensity and evocative qualities! I can vividly call to mind Nights and Reala’s argument in Delight City or Reala circling Helen menacingly in Memory Forest. 

But I feel like the devil’s in the details. Frustratingly often for me, these vibrant splashes of story were followed up by, like... hey kids, it’s time to chase Octopaw around in circles again! This is in-universe and out a completely pointless exercise! Let’s save some Nightopians from Wizeman, never once examining or explaining what Wizeman wants with them!

I try not to gripe too hard on Wizeman’s inscrutability because he as a character at least resonates with it- that he’s only a handful of ominous details in the dark actually kind of works for his character and the jawdropping beauty of the Unconscious Space and Will and Helen’s respective leaps of faith into the sea of darkness is contrasted by a profound sense of unease. Why is this space simultaneously so real and unreal? If Nights lands on a real-world building at the end of the game, sure, they’re alive, but is that a good thing, if they’re inextricably connected to Wizeman and Wizeman seems to be clawing at the veil between dream and waking?

Again, this is not a frustration of I hate these games. It’s a frustration of, I really love these games, but they feel like a vivid concept padded into existence with inconsistent flesh where the most interesting workings of both worlds- the real world emotional problems, and the dream world’s politics and potential fate under Wizeman’s onslaught- struggle because they’re ramming into each other at cross purposes rather than intertwining and facilitating/shoring each other up. There is some unbelievably premium good shit in NiD and JoD both but the experience of those glorious moments is undercut with the disappointment of going straight from that, to, octopaw. Nights do you wanna talk to Owl about how you unhealthily use harassing this octopus as a way to run away from serious emotional talks? No?

All of this has been a big reason why I’m looking forwards to Balan Wonderworld eagerly, because, Balan Wonderworld seems to be doing the spirit of what NiGHTS was as a series, and directly answering some of the problems of JOD. The human-side dynamics are spiced up with the chapters each having their own stars-of-the-day, and we’re digging into more raw emotional territory than stage fright or a nebulous insecurity growing up- just the three released so far are dealing with unexpected catastrophe bringing ruin to months of hard work, an accident leading to medical problems and a sense of betrayal, and the ‘pettiest’ problem, interpersonal rejection, is easily the most heartbreaking because it showcases how little self-confidence that afflicted person had. 

Balan’s more mature position as a maestro and a hands-off sort of narrator figure while Leo and Emma take center stage means that I don’t mind as much when the kids get focus- in JoD, while Will and Helen were kids, Nights seemed like a teenager who was disconcertingly willing to throw themselves under the bus for friends they met yesterday and this wasn’t really framed as a bad thing. With Balan, I feel like even if Balan does at some point in the narrative sacrifice himself to advance Leo and Emma, it’d play to very different tropes- the removal of the magic feather or mentor, as a lesson you have to fly on your own.

(and, Balan is an integral part of the Wonderworld itself, and I have reason to suspect Lance would have a vested interest not fully ‘removing’ him even if they at some point separated him from Leo and Emma)

The kids themselves are also shored up in terms of intrigue. I’m really excited for square enix’s involvement, because they’ve produced a few stories that dig at emotions, and taking characters from the stock of, say, Neku and Shiki from World Ends With You, who Leo and Emma have passing resemblance to (a boy who lost a friend and became disillusioned and closed off, a girl who’s ebullient and sociable and more than a little insincere in it, hiding an insecure, lonely core) I think this is very promising.

That doesn’t mean I am abandoning all love for the NiGHTS series or that I think it’s garbage compared to Balan Wonderworld, especially since they have different themes and motifs and one isn’t even out yet, but I think that it’s interesting how, to my eye, the Wonderworld game seems like a sort of continuation or refinement upon JoD- that NiGHTS in some ways seems to be an inspiration bedrock for this new theater adventure.

Ultimately even if Balan Wonderworld is everything I hope for and more, there’s always going to be a place in my heart for NiGHTS, though. (I mean, hell, Nights themselves was an instrumental force in me figuring out my own relationship with gender.) 

(and, once the game DOES come out, I feel like I’m certainly not the only one who’s gonna want to write crossover fic.)

TL;DR I love the nightmare jesters from the absolute bottom of my heart but I just wish we had a little more plot to squeeze loose.

[but-first--tea]

LFRP: Omori Kaya

THE BASICS

Full name: Omori Kaya

Pronunciation: Oh-Moh-Ree   Kay-Uh  (Omori is her surname, Kaya is her given name)

Nicknames: n/a

Height:  5'6" (quite tall for a midlander hyur)

Age:  “A lady never reveals her age.” (adult)

Nameday: 32nd Sun of the 3rd Astral Moon

Languages: Doman, Common

Occupation: Not getting caught.

Current Residence: "Traveling abroad.“ (Basically living a tourist’s life in Eorzea, hoping to never be called out as the fraud she is. She’ll spend time as someone’s guest here, staying in a hotel elsewhere the next month, etc…)

Relationship Status: While she has never actually been married, the identity of the woman she pretends to be is a young widow and heiress. (Single)

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS

Hair color: Black

Eye color: Pale, silvery grey

Skin tone: Fair

Body type: Slender, athletic but not in an obvious way.

Scars: none

Accent: Doman

Posture

Poised, athletic– though she’s no master shinobi, she is her mother’s daughter. Her training began at the age of four, and it’s still evident in the way she moves, observes, and behaves. Others who have trained would likely notice it easily. She carries herself with quiet dignity, and moves (or refuses to) deliberately, as if she expects each action to be read for significance, and takes great care not to reveal too much unintentionally. Though, in the very rare instances when she lets down her guard, this facade can fade away, revealing that she’s still a girl who can be amused, and charmed, and is easily mesmerized by beautiful places and things.  

Accessories

She’s almost never seen without jewelry, though all of it is merely decorative– the trappings of the life she’s stepped into. None of it is personal, or carries meaning beyond appearing as she’s expected to.

Apparel

Her taste ranges from the classically dramatic to the outright exotic- not out of a sense of vanity, but in an appreciation of what is more or less wearable art.  She most frequently wears black and white, though she also favors blue and occasionally red. In keeping with her heritage, she tends toward modesty in her dress. Of course, most of these clothes once belonged to a woman whose identity she has stolen, and she’s begun to add Eorzean fashions to her wardrobe to stand out less.  The more she blends in, the fewer questions about her past she needs to dodge...

CHILDHOOD

Place of Birth: Doma

Siblings: none she knows of

Parents: The samurai Masanari and an Imperial Shadow named Harue, though Kaya has never known her biological father, as she was still less than a year old when he disappeared.

Upbringing: Raised initially by her mother, and later trained by grandmother once her affinity for magic became apparent. (More details can be found in her character history.)

PERSONAL

Personality

Outwardly, she is polite and mysterious, with a demeanor ranging from businesslike toward strangers, to an unexpected sort of mischievous and rebellious streak around the rare soul she’s begun to feel comfortable around. She’s evasive and distant. She rarely connects with others easily, which leads to most people assuming she’s either very shy, or rather snobbish, at first impression. She doesn’t trust easily, isn’t prone to showing any emotion in public if she can avoid it, and is often the one who, from an outward appearance, seems to be just another quiet wallflower enjoying the view.

Beneath the surface, however, she feels everything perhaps far too much, watches everyone with the wariness of someone who knows all too well what people are capable of, and deeply craves the connections to others she doesn’t seem to be able to form easily. She’s always searching for the few who can see the world the way she does- as something equally beautiful as it is deadly, meant to be lived in, not just endured. She’s a powder keg of passions always kept under a tight lid, hidden away for safe keeping.

Still, she is difficult to anger, and it’s a cold anger when it happens. She knows that engaging in violence and revealing her training would likely break character entirely, and being discovered as a fraud wouldn’t end well for her. As a result, she’ll try to think her way out of any situation, instead.

Motivations/Goals

If asked what she wants more than anything else in the world, she’d probably say to be able to do what she wanted, not what she was told, or allowed, or expected to. She craves freedom in all its definitions, but nearly always denies it to herself out of fear or pragmatism. While playing the role of a young, noble heiress she feels the restraints of her gilded cage all too keenly. She must behave in the way one raised to the role would be expected to. As a result, she finds small ways to rebel that aren’t likely to be noticed. Her fierce and defiant nature, thus repressed, will see her doing seemingly pointless things like rearranging the furniture in hotel rooms, stealing small items she could easily afford, or finding ways to secretly get even with those who have behaved poorly.

Financial Status

Ostensibly wealthy, though not one gil of it was ever truly hers. Still, she feels no guilt in obtaining the Omori family’s accounts considering they would have otherwise been seized by the Garlean government following Lord Omori’s assassination.

She has been quietly seeking a way to invest ‘her’ money in a way that would  divorce it from her stolen inheritance, make it more truly hers, and greatly reduce the risk of losing everything should her false identity be uncovered.

Weapons

While she was raised to the blade and bow for most of her childhood, she hides her training and doesn’t carry a weapon openly, if at all. If cornered and forced to defend herself, she’d mostly likely attempt to disarm an opponent and steal theirs, or improvise.

Vices

Seemingly none, as she has striven to present herself as a woman of proper graces. However, she is prone to self-indulgence and spending far too much gil merely because she can, which she considers a vice in herself and tries to resist.

Likes

People who are intelligent, interesting, vibrantly passionate and alive. Watching people do things that require specialized skill, especially combat training or constructing something.

Constructive debate and interesting challenge. Trying/learning new things.

Music, dancing. She’s often wished she could play an instrument, but has never learned to.

Nature, gardens, fireflies, birds, waterfalls, the ocean/seaside. Traveling to anywhere with a spectacular view or vibrant culture. Learning about said cultures.

Exotic spiced foods or just about anything she hasn’t tasted before that doesn’t look absolutely disgusting. Tea. Fruits, chocolate, and spiced cider or tea. Have I mentioned tea?

Unusual crystals and/or gemstones. While she’s generally unfazed by wealth or status, she appears to be positively mesmerized by sparklies.

Dislikes

Politics, rumor mongering, cattiness, insults, and general poor behavior.

People who think getting drunk is the best kind of fun to be had.

Addictive drugs, and those who sell them.

Being forced to do anything, feeling not in control over her own life.

Overly objectifying unwanted attention, awkward social situations/obligations/expectations.

Being cold, biting insects.

Hobbies

Reading, especially the arcane.

Learning the history of different places and cultures.

Collecting small, easily transportable items (generally clothing or jewelry) in local styles from each new place she visits.

Pets: None, currently.  She once had a magpie as a pet when she was younger, and maintains a fondness for birds of all kinds.

RP HOOKS

She’s looking (quietly) for a way to launder, er... invest her money to gradually eliminate the need to rely on her stolen identity and foreign contacts for access to funds. Have an opportunity?

A trusted lady’s maid, retainer, or guard type to help her maintain appearances. 

It’s possible that someone from her past in Doma might recognize her, or perhaps have known the real Omori Kaya.

The woman she is impersonating is an ill-fit for her. She is fierce, independent, and rebellious... the exact opposite of the demure and soft character her stolen identity demands. But, her mother risked everything to secure her new identity, and she won’t cast it off unless forced to. Still, she isn’t perfect. Someone could catch her in a mistake, and become curious...

The Lady Omori Kaya appears elegant, mysterious, ...and wealthy. Potential suitors aren’t unlikely. (Romance is an option, though she’ll be hard to pin down at first, for obvious reasons.)

She has a (stolen) soulstone in her possession, and has been working to unlock its secrets. 

Open to brainstorming other connections, past associations, or jumping into -your- existing plot!

OOC

I make my own schedule. I can be available pretty much any time from 8 am to 9pm CST. Sadly, I can rarely do late nights because I need to do that sleeping thing.

OOC communication is a priority for me.

I have been RPing for 20+ years. I am comfortable with both in game or Discord RP, and anything from short, quick posts to multi para. I do this because I enjoy writing!

I am not interested in random ERP outside of a long-term character interaction. I do love writing ships as long as there's strong chemistry between the characters, and both the character and the writer of said character are mature adults. However,I will not consider ships with alt or AU characters, as this is my one and only RP character. (No multi-shipping.)

I prefer a RP style that works with what is plausible within the scope of the lore. I'm open to creativity, as long as it makes sense. I prefer to stay away from void-heavy, AU, inserts from other universes, and anything involving cross-breeding with non-playable races/beings. (These are only my personal preferences, and everyone else is free to do whatever they like!)

Absolutely no: rape, harm to children, or graphic torture.

I do enjoy game content as well, and prefer company over doing so alone! I am currently sitting in my own personal FC house, but would consider joining a real FC if it makes sense for my character. 

Confession: I probably spend way too much time decorating virtual houses. 

[timeforelfnonsense]

The Lusty Eladrin Maid

Rating: E (no smut yet but there will be in the update) || Ao3 ||  Sunshine & Starlight: My on going bg3 series || Author's tucked away at the end

It was a simple enough task to find Dafni in the little forest glade. He’d followed the trail of flowers left behind by her bare feet in the grass. The iridescent fabric of her skirt fluttered around her thighs as she twirled. Her nimble fingertips plucked berries, as red and ripe as her parted lips. She filled the woven basket hanging from the crook of her bent arm, singing softly to herself. A few rosy ringlets peak out of the front of her kerchief, framing her bespeckled cheeks. A smile tugged at Astarion’s lips, she looked like a storybook character come to life right off the page.

Silently, he crept further into the meadow watching her sway to her slivery, birdsong melody. Closer and closer until Dafni unknowingly spun herself into his embrace. Astarion pulled her into his chest, a baby pink flush spreading across the bridge of her freckled nose. Dafni glanced up at him, doe-eyed through her long, fluttering lashes. Daffodil cups unfurled themselves throughout the sea of curls flowing from her lacy kerchief. Their vibrant colors painting a sunset of yellow, cream, and peachy-pink in her tresses.

“It seems I’ve caught myself a faerie! ” Astarion murmured against her ear, toying with a stray tendril, twisting the curl around his index finger.

Dafni let out a chime of silver laughter before responding in an airy voice, “And what do you mean to do with me, good sir?”

“I mean to take you into my arms.” He said with a low chuckle, turning her so her chest was pressed to his own, “To kiss you and hold you.” He tilted her face upwards, finding her berry-stained lips with his own. Pulling away for a single torturous moment, he spoke once more, “I mean to make you mine.” 

He could taste the sweet tang of raspberry juice and honey on her tongue as he coaxed her deeper into the kiss. A contented sigh slipped from Dafni’s lungs. She nestled herself closer to his body, her full breasts pressed against his chest. He brought a hand to the base of her skull, gently cradling her head in his palm. He felt her lips curl into a smile under his kiss. 

He’d found himself rather enchanted by this little game of flirtatious make-believe. He’d perused the dog eared pages of her books out of equal parts boredom and curiosity. She’d only had the single faded pink leather volume in her bag when she’d been snatched, but over a few days, she’d been able to track down a trove of smutty literature. Through his investigation of the many, many volumes of romance and debauchery, Astarion had gathered some insight into the romantic workings of her mind. 

She dreamt of being swept off her feet. She wanted illicit midnight rendezvous. She longed for stolen kisses and tender words whispered between waltzes. To sneak away from a ballroom to some hidden alcove. He could picture it perfectly, her frilly skirts thrown over her back. His hand climbing its way up her stocking clad caves as she was bent over the nearest piece of furniture and tupped to oblivion.

What was the harm in indulging her whimsy for a little while? It would be easy enough to play the dashing rapscallion to her wayward debutante. 

 “I’ll happily surrender myself to you if you promise to kiss me like that again,” She said, her chest rising and falling with short breaths. A lopsided, sunny smile flashing across her mouth.

Dafni stood on her tiptoes as she threw her arms around his neck, drawing his lips to her own again and again and once more for good measure. Her hand cupped his face, her thumb stroking softly against the sharp line of his cheek. 

A shiver ran through her as he dragged the tips of his middle and index fingers down the sensitive flesh of her inner arm. His touch wandered along her bicep, carefully tracing the delicate outline of the hardy muscle beneath the trimmings of girlish fat. His hand wrapped around the outside of her arm next, giving her a gentle squeeze before continuing his exportation of the shaking limb. His thumb glided along the line of her vena amoris, strumming a soundless melody that reverberated against the walls of her heart. 

He followed the vein to the pulse point hammering at her wrist. Her breath caught in her throat as the warmth of his kiss slipped away. Dafni made a sour expression of protest but Astarion paid her no mind. Gingerly, he brought her wrist to his lips. A feather-light peck tickled her skin before he clasped her dainty hand in his own. The corners of his lips quirked up in a spellbinding grin. His head tilted ever so slightly to the side sending a singular ivory ringlet loose from that splendid head of hair. His left hand came to rest just above the small of her back. She leaned forward in a fruitless attempt to restore the kiss, but she was only able to catch the very corner of his roguish mouth.

“What happened to holding, and kissing and making me yours?” Dafni inquired in a playful mockery of his cadence.

“I am still holding you,” He reminded the hand on her back, pushing her closer for emphasis, “and I did kiss you. As for making you mine...All in good time, dear.” He purred, lips brushing the long line of her ear, “Tell me, sweet girl, do you know how to dance?”

“I- Yes, I know how to dance...”

“I thought so,” Astarion nodded thoughtfully. The hand on her back traveled up to the base of her shoulder blade. He gently nudged her arm upwards until to rest atop his. “ A pretty creature like you must be the star of all sorts of quaint fetes. I want to be certain that at the next little soirée you attend, you’ll spend the evening scanning the crowd for my face. And every time some brave young lord or lady plucks up the courage to ask for a dance, those perfect lips will turn ever so slightly upwards as you decline. Because every time you hear a waltz all you’ll be able to think of is the man in the glen and the passionate, consummate sex you had with him.” 

Dafni’s heart threatened to burst. There she was, Dafni Ríwen, Thesmia’s sheltered, unexceptional daughter of controversial paternity. The girl who sat on the sideline of every formal gathering she’d ever attended with an empty dance card and a sullen pout, seen as an unquestionable first water by the most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on! She felt her footing wobble but Astarion’s confidence held her steady and sure. She knew it was only a bit of fun but she’d spent decades dreaming of finding herself in a situation very much like this one and by the hells she was going to enjoy it! 

Astarion was clearly versed in the art of ballroom seduction. He led her through the waltz as sure-footed as anything. Though there was no music, his rhythm never faulted. Moreover, he held her much closer than was proper. His hand had fallen to the curve of her waist rather than her shoulder. Her body felt as if it had been set alight at each point of contact. 

If they were truly in a ballroom some overzealous chaperone would have certainly made a fuss. While the fey were certainly creatures of revelry and carnal pleasure, they held a certain fondness for priority and decorum that seemed to outsiders rather contradictory. But, to the people of Faerie, it all made perfect sense. A chaperone scolds a young couple for improperly and perhaps the attention would incite a reaction from a rival suitor leading to a dispute of honor. Perhaps they proved the final push for a public delectation of love. Or, at the very least, the blushing lovers might seek out some secret place to continue their dalliance now colored with the excitement of rebellion.

The wicked curve of his smile and her previous encounter with him in these very woods, lead Dafni to believe that Astarion was exactly the sort of libertine who was all too thrilled to be given an excuse to sneak off for a bit of secret bedsport. A yearning sigh fell from her chest as she pictured herself laid for him in one of the Summer Queen’s manicured hedge mazes. She bit back a lewd noise as she pictured some hapless party goer stumbling across them still in the throes of amorous relations. 

All in good time, She repeated to herself as she picked her thighs together.

___

When I make a new OC, I always include a tiny piece of myself, a hobby, skill, or habit. It's always something small but acts as the proverbial  "baby's first laugh"  à la the fairies of Neverland for characters.  I don't usually share what that spark is, but rather keep them as little in-jokes for myself and those closest to me. As a little peek behind the curtain, I will share that Dafni inherited my love of romance novels. I'm sure it's no surprise to anyone who follows my tumblr I am a lover of smutty, historical, and fantasy literature. This fic is my love letter to Tessa Dare, Lisa Kleypas, and all of the other women whose stories provide me with a much-needed escape during an awful year as well as inspiring me to write once more. Part two coming soon! (Also yes, the vena amoris is an old wives tale BUT it's very romantic, and who's to say elves don't have the fictitious heart vein?)