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fear-before-valor · 3 years ago

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AU Ficlet: Jim, who was raised by the Order from the age of five, attends Arcadia Oaks High, for his first day of human high school. Weird things happen in Arcadia, though, and his appearance seems to be one such weird thing to the residents in this small, strange town...

Aka: How an Order-raised Jim met Toby and Claire

Words: 2939 II Warnings: none II ok to rb --

Jim dropped his backpack at the empty desk next to one Tobias Domzalski’s, one of the only people at school who’d been properly friendly to him so far. It was Jim’s first day of mortal high school, and he’d been vetted mercilessly by every student group but Tobias’s, though he was beginning to suspect that said group consisted of only Tobias.

Of course, Jim had been screening his peers right back, but it was still exhausting. He thought he’d been ready after the Order’s… extensive lessons on humanity, and how to fit in with the mortals like himself, but already, everything he’d done felt like it must have been a social faux pas of some kind.

Act quiet around the quiet kids? Then no one speaks, until the silence grows so long that it’s awkward, and starting up a conversation makes it feel painfully forced. So, okay, maybe find some louder kids and try to blend in with them. Except, they start to grow obnoxious, and at some point, the headache simply stops being worth it.

Jim wasn’t even going to dare try and bond with the overly studious; he wasn’t here to vie for valedictorian, nor was he all that interested in making grades that separated him from the pack. Not to mention, he much preferred whatever lessons the Order could teach him anyway. They were very practical things, going over philosophy, strategy, combat, computations. He was already conversational in Bellroc and Skrael’s original languages, and though he knew Spanish would be equally valuable, the Spanish teacher seemed… intense, in a way that Bellroc and Skrael, who could likewise be rigorous sometimes, were not.

In fact, the only class he was indeed eager to take was history—and, okay, perhaps physical education didn’t sound horrendous, so long as he was careful about holding back in certain areas—because while he could learn plenty of history from his very ancient guardians, to hear of human history from the mouths of humans, like himself… it sounded unique, in a way that he hoped was amenable, at the very least, if not genuinely interesting or entertaining.

As he sat down in the chair beside Tobias, the boy seemed to light up, beaming over at Jim, a reaction that he hadn’t expected from his peer. He’d thought he’d rather botched his first conversation with Tobias in homeroom that morning, as he hadn’t known anything about anything that Tobias had referenced (what on earth was Gun Robot?). But, evidently, he must have done something well—or at least, acceptably— because Tobias was leaning over and excitedly holding out his hand to show Jim something which clattered in his palm as he moved. Politely, Jim glanced over to see what it was, and—oh.

Oh no.

That was definitely the remains of a troll.

Tobias was holding out small, grey pebbles for him to see, on which Jim could just make out hints of tattoos that had been etched into the troll while they were alive.

Holding back his mild panic, he gave a tight smile and a nod, as his classmate diagnosed them incorrectly as gneiss—which, admittedly, Jim thought wasn’t a bad guess, really. It’s not like the other boy had any reason to think that the rocks he was holding were anything but an average metamorphic stone.

Tobias was looking to Jim for a response, though, so he opened his mouth to speak, breathing in—

—magic.

Jim froze once more. The distinct tingle of magic had just washed over his senses, keen and undeniable, unlike anything else he’d felt that day.

It was raw, underdeveloped, not yet bolstered by the right teacher, but it was there, and it spoke in tones of purple, pulsing with potential.

Jim was no wizard himself, much preferring combat to the arcane arts, having not a strong penchant for it or its intricacies and delicate, temperamental nature, but even still, he’d been raised with the three most powerful magic-users in the known world. They’d taught him from youth how to recognize when magic was present, how to glean as many clues as he possibly could about it, or who might have cast it, might be walking in it, based on its style and scent, its intensity, or its intentionality. He wasn’t quite the best at sensing the finer details, nor could he find it when it was masked, but when it was open, unhidden, he could feel it like a mild electric shock that one might get when touching a door handle in dry weather; he could sense it like the faint scent of ozone during a storm, or like a prickle on the hairs on the back of his neck, when lightning was about to strike.

What’s going on? He thought, as he turned his head in the direction of the epicenter of the magic. First, there’s troll remains in the hands of a classmate with the same schedule as him, and then there’s—the girl, there. The girl with the blue streak in her hair.

The witch.

She’d caught him staring, as she set her books down on a desk in the front row, a couple columns over from his. Beside her plopped down two more girls—her friends, Jim noted, as they chattered familiarly, cheerfully.

The girl gave him an awkward smile, then, and Jim realized that he must have been staring for a few moments too long, so he rapidly flicked his eyes back to the surface of his own desk, trying not to think about the flush he could feel splash across the back of his neck, or the tips of his ears.

Tobias did not grant him such grace.

“Ooh,” he grinned, smug as a cat in a sunbeam. “That’s Claire Nuñez. President of the drama club, valedictorian candidate, great actress. She’s tied with Seamus Johnson and Shannon Longhannon for top of the class right now, I heard. She’s wicked smart, and—Jim?” Tobias huffed, “Are you paying attention to me?”

Jim’s eyes darted back to his new friend, from where they’d been briefly studying Claire Nuñez’s back, trying to get a more in-depth read on her arcana. He nodded distractedly. “Yeah, yeah, smart, a president; I heard you.”

Tobias sighed, shaking his head. “Jim.”

Jim raised an eyebrow, indicating that he was listening.

“She’s out of your league.” He deadpanned. “She’s super popular, and you’re, no offense, definitely not.”

Jim shot Tobias a confused look, brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

The boy stared openly at Jim. “What do you mean, ‘what do you mean’? Do you really not— Oh my god.”

Jim blinked. “What?”

Tobias shook his head. “Jim, you’ve kinda… scared a lot of the people in our class today. They don’t know what to think about you. You’re like a giant question mark! No one even knows where you came from—”

“Ohio.” Jim recited his cover story, which Skrael had helped him pick the night previous. They’d chosen a city that started with a c… right. “Columbus, Ohio.”

Tobias shot him a deadpan look. “Okay, fine, Jim Lake from Columbus, Ohio. Why’d you suddenly move to Arcadia, then? Why not L.A.? Why not Burbank?”

Jim frowned. “Do you interrogate every newcomer like this? My parents got a good job opportunity here.” He held up one hand, “And before you ask—real estate.”

“Oh yeah? How come I haven’t seen them put up ads, then?” Tobias crossed his arms. “I’m just saying, dude; I think you’re cool, but you freak a lot of people out with that brooding, silent thing you do.”

Jim snorted. “I do what?”

“Y’know—”

“No, I don’t know—”

“You act, like, all silent and mysterious when people try to talk to you.” Tobias shrugged. “I don’t think it’s a bad thing, but some people don’t seem as ready to brush it off as me. I’m only telling you so that you can make more friends here.”

“Well, I have you, don’t I?” Jim’s head canted.

Tobias blinked, floundering at that. “Well—y…yeah, I guess so, but—”

“I mean, we are friends, aren’t we?”

It was Tobias’s turn to go a bit pink, shaking his head in bewilderment. “If you want, yeah, but—”

“Then there we go. I have a friend.” Jim smiled.

Tobias tried to protest, “But—” only to find himself cut off as Mr. Strickler strode into the classroom at that moment, placing a leather briefcase on his desk with a decisive thump. Cacophonous voices incrementally petered out, as attentive heads turned to the front of the classroom, where Mr. Strickler had pulled out a stack of syllabi, handing them to the student nearest the door, with the instructions to “take one and pass them,” spoken precisely to the class.

Tobias looked like he wanted to say something when Strickler turned his back to write his name on the chalkboard, but Jim shushed him from the corner of his mouth, opening a fresh, blank notebook as he did so. This was the only class he’d bothered to buy a separate notebook for, and, to be frank, was the only class he’d even intended to take notes in at all.

Tobias looked chagrined, but not angry, as he rolled his eyes and went to fetch a pencil from his own bag. Might as well have something to do with his idle hands for the next hour.

—

As his first day was winding to close, Jim had to admit, having a friend at school did end up making it a little easier.

The rest of his time there had passed largely unremarkably, since a rather thrilling start to the history curriculum. Jim’s hand had shot up just as much as the apparent reigning top of the sophomore class, one Miss Claire Nuñez’s, had— a fact which had, according to Tobias, already begun to percolate across campus.

The lesson had only briefly covered the basics of ancient Rome, going over a bit of easy, more widely known trivia, to see what the class already knew about their oncoming first unit, but, nonetheless, Jim had been eager to jump in, to talk almost directly to Mr. Strickler, going back and forth in the form of a discussion. He’d spoken quietly, quickly, and he’d felt the eyes of his peers glued to his desk, but had ignored the sensation altogether, in favor of listening to what his teacher had to say about aqueducts, instead.

When the hour had finally come to an end, in fact, he’d packed up slowly, most of his classmates abandoning the room as quickly as they could—the lunch period was about to begin—though Tobias was kind enough to wait for him. As such, Tobias was the only other person present to hear Mr. Strickler stop Jim after class, paying a brief compliment to his performance that day, and accompanying his words with a poster for the history club. Jim didn’t think his furtive smile had gone entirely missed by the teacher, but as they’d exited into the now mostly empty hallway, he forgot to worry about it further, as Tobias wasted no time in asking him how the heck his new friend knew so much about history already?

Jim had shrugged it off, saying that it was his favorite subject; and besides, didn’t Tobias— “Seriously, dude, it’s Toby, by the way”— know more about geology than anyone else in their class? The compliment had made Tobias—Toby— preen, and he’d promptly dropped the topic, instead launching into an enthusiastic lecture meant to coach Jim through the cafeteria process. Jim, who had tried to jump in to say that he’d heard this at orientation the week prior, but Toby had shot him an appalled look at that, swiftly informing him that orientation did nothing to help the social side of things. Sure, he knew the motions, but did he know how to do them without standing out in the crowd? Absolutely not—in fact, the thought was almost laughable, according to Toby.

So, Jim had grinned, followed Toby’s lead, and had just barely survived the ever-important lunch line waltz.

The rest of the day had passed mostly the same way, in the end. Toby, having warmed up to Jim, took him through the whole rest of the day, guiding him through the intricacies of Arcadia Oaks High, and by the time the final bell was ringing, Jim almost felt like a normal student. Some of his peers had even started waving to him in the hallways; he’d broken the ice, after all.

Well. He’d thought so, until Toby had said goodbye, peddling away on his bike toward home, leaving Jim alone in the courtyard by the bustling lockers, surrounded by students eager to either go home, as Toby had, or to dive into after-school clubs and sports.

Jim opted to take his time, though, to enjoy the Southern California sun, as he strolled casually across the campus, toward the front of the school grounds.

As he rounded the corner, though, intending to head toward the Arcadia Oaks sign, where he’d stop and shoot off a text to the Order that his first day had gone well, and that he’d be home soon, he felt a tap on his shoulder, instead, and heard a throat being cleared behind him.

He knew who it was before he even turned to face her; her magic had given her away as soon as she’d reached a hand for him.

Despite this, Jim whirled as if she’d caught him by surprise, schooling his features into something startled but friendly, relaxing his shoulders as a polite smile crossed his face, upon seeing her. “Oh, hey. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting—” he rethought his words, shaking his head. “Never mind. …It’s, ‘Claire,’ right?”

She nodded, returning his smile. “Yeah! And you’re ‘Jim Lake’, hm?”

Something about the way she asked that question sent up a warning bell in the back of Jim’s mind, but he tried not to look unsettled; it was probably just nerves.

“Yup; just Jim is fine, though.” He added with a casual laugh.

Claire tilted her head, continuing. “So, you’re quite the history buff, huh?”

Jim’s hands dropped to his pockets, as he glanced at his shoes, then back up to her. “Uh, yeah, I guess so.”

“You guess?” She teased. “You were on fire in class today.” She lifted her chin, to look at him head on. “Do I need to worry about you unseating me, Jim Lake from Columbus, Ohio?”

Jim snorted, shaking his head. “No, no; it’s not like that. History’s just a hobby.”

“Pretty intense hobby, if you know half as much as you seem like you do.” She raised an eyebrow at him.

Jim grinned. “Intense? Like being the president of drama club, the vice president of debate, and the supposed shoe-in for the lead in the play this fall?” he recited, much to Claire’s surprise, who shot him an impressed look.

“Huh. You sure do pay attention, don’t you?”

He glanced around, making it a leisurely movement, concealing the way he was searching for anyone who could overhear, before his eyes met hers again, as he said, “Only to certain people.”

Claire blinked, cheeks reddening, mistaking his meaning. “Oh, yeah? What kinds of people?”

Jim rolled the dice. “Well, people who seem nice, or kind, who I could make friends with. People who do things I wanna do, too, so I can have an ‘in’. Like clubs, and things.” he clarified.

“And, uh…” his voice grew hushed, “Magic-users in the human world.”

Claire’s face fell. “What was that last one?” Her nose scrunched with the skeptical look that overtook her features.

Jim’s eyes darted to look for an exit, realizing coldly—fearfully— that he had grossly miscalculated.

“Uh…” Stupid. He chided himself. Think of a lie before you go backing yourself into a corner. Skrael would be disappointed in him if he were here.

“Did you just say ‘the human world’ like you… aren’t human?” She stared at him suspiciously.

Jim blinked. “What? No. I’m human. Of course I’m human.” He gave a strained laugh. “What else would I be?”

“…Someone who thinks they aren’t?” Claire’s brow furrowed.

“It was a rhetor- well. I mean, I guess that’s true. But I’m not!” He smiled weakly, and then froze for a split-second, rapidly adding, “Someone who thinks they aren’t human! I know I’m human!”

Claire’s eyes shot to the street, where, to her poorly hidden relief, her dad had just pulled up to the curb, there to pick her up. “…Right. Well, Jim Lake from Cleveland, Ohio, my dad’s here, so I need to go, but this has been… interesting.”

Jim nodded rapidly, shooting her one more smile— a sheepish, apologetic one— as he gave her a shy wave. “…Yeah.”

Claire hoisted her backpack onto one shoulder, giving him a half-hearted wave back. “…Bye, Jim.”

“Bye, Claire.”

As she turned to leave, Jim frowned to himself. He wasn’t sure why, but something felt wrong. He supposed it could have been the awkward manner in which he’d acted, but in a flash, he decided that wanted to see her again, just in case that wasn’t it. He couldn’t be too careful.

So, before he missed his chance, he called after her retreating back, “See you around?”

Claire stopped, hand poised on the handle of the passenger side door, freezing there for a heart-pounding pause.

Then, she shot him a look over her shoulder, one of interest, meeting his eyes deliberately. Jim got the sense that he should heed it carefully.

“Yeah. See you around, Jim.”

#(why yes I did mean to have claire say 'cleveland' the second time)#hopefully the next fic in this is how jim becomes the trollhunter but!! for now I hope y'all like this piece!#i may make an au introduction post as well but brain tired from editing so that'll come soon!#trollhunters au #trollhunters fic #trollhunters fanfic #jim lake jr #the arcane order #toa #toa fic #toa au #ok to rb

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potatotrash0 · 3 years ago

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Hey idk if youve done this alreadh but im curious about your body headcanons for the sdr2 cast!! An anon sent some in for characters previously (the one where they said things like angie has vitiligo and stuff-i love them and they really stuck with me haha) and i wanna know your headcanons!! :D

Hmhmm this one I might be listing off the spot lmao. I feel like my hcs are mostly just. Common hcs but hey I never said I wasn’t basic skdjksjdks

cw for. Everyone. Yeah kdjfksjdks

Hajime…..I like to think he’s slightly buff? Maybe that’s not the right word. Toned? Idk, I hc that he jumps around hobbies a lot because he wants to find something he’s good at, so that includes sports. I like the idea that a few stick with him, like swimming and basketball. I imagine he also has light scrapes and scars on his legs from falling, both with skateboarding and general Clumsy Shit.

Also this one switches a lot but with Trans Hajime, I can see him with top surgery scars.

Oh ah, I like freckled Hajime!! It’s cute. This one goes with the sports hc, but I like the idea that he’s kinda tanned. Entirely unrelated but I also like the idea that he has calluses from playing guitar.

Chiakiii!! She’s soft bc I said so. Specifically her thighs, arms and stomach + some stretch marks. And moles all over. Projecting big time onto a cute fictional girl, call that self care <333 /j

uhh other than that, I imagine she has bags under her eyes from staying up late gaming. Also tan Chiaki my love. Shh I know she probably doesn’t go outside for days on end. In my defense I tan easily and I imagine she does too. Again with the projection. Shhhh

Oh oh!!!! I forgot to mention but!!!! Chiaki gets a ton of moles. I saw the boob mole and went !!!!!! fellow mole haver!!!!!! and went nuts. This is the one weird niche entirely irrelevant thing that can get me to like a character, just. Being able to point at them and jump up and down with joy over them also having moles. Idk why it’s just therapeutic <33

Nagito’s bony. Skinny mf. Could probably cut cheese with his elbows. Maybe grate it on his collarbones. Cuddling with him would be a fight to see if you can find a position that doesn’t end with something poking you in the gut. I mean this affectionately, he’s bony as shit but he’s my bony fucker <3

Pale asf, sunburns if he’s in the sun for more than two minutes. His eye bags could hold the entirety of his life’s trauma. Sharpest features ever. Sometimes I hc that he looks greasy, and other times I hc that he looks ethereally pretty in a ghostly way. Either way he always looks like he’s had the soul sucked out of him by a Dementor.

You can probably definitely see the veins in his hands. They’re. Very There. Also I’ve brought this up before but he definitely has big ass hands. L a r g e hands, all the better to head pat you with. This was originally so much more pining but I decided no I’ve exposed myself enough on this blog skfjksjdkd

Oh last minute thing, I think he’d be tall as fuck. Specifically 6’0 or taller. Also he probably (definitely) has at least a few scars from his childhood, particularly that plane crash. And I like to think he has glasses when he’s older. I’m so sorry that his section is so long I have so many thoughts about him ;;;;;

Okay uhh Imposter? Mmm. Idk actually. I do think they’d have callused fingers but soft hands. Probably from having to adapt to using a ton of different talents for their Imposter Agenda. Also stretch marks probably, all over their body.

Teruteru uhhhhh. God. Can you tell I don’t think about some characters ;;;;; Idk I don’t have much that differs from canon. I like him. Oh but he probably has cook hands? Chef hands, whatever you wanna call them. Probably faint scars from cuts and burns from when he was still learning how to cook from his mama.

Mahiru……hmm well freckles obviously dkjfksjd. I think she’s tanned as well since I feel like she likes sunlit shots. Idk I don’t have much. I like to think she’s got a stockier body type though.

Also not necessarily her body but I like her with an undercut!

Peko’s buff <3 it’s canon <333 /j

N ee way yeah. Buff Peko my love. Also she probably has a few scars from handling her sword when she was younger and less experienced. I also feel like she would have contacts she wears when she trains bc fuck exercising with glasses

I don’t really have anything for Hiyoko until she gets her growth spurt. Afterwards, I imagine she’s tall and kinda thin? Mainly bc of fast metabolism probably, though when she’s older maybe she’d be a little less spindly.

I don’t know if her hair would be bleached or not, but if it were, I like the idea of her letting her actual hair color grow in. If not, I think Ibuki might help her try a few sections of dyed hair? Idk I just like the thought

Ibuki is a fellow bony bitch. I mean this lovingly. She’s skin and bone. Skeleton rocker lady

Probably tan, I imagine she spends a lot of time in the sun. She strikes me as a summer person. Oh, I also saw some art of Black Ibuki with vitiligo and loved that!! Also calluses from shredding guitar, obviously

Hmmm I like the idea that she rollerskates? So possibly some bruises or scars on her arms or legs from falling on concrete when she was still learning. Oh oh I imagine she has a ton of piercings!!! On her ears, nose, lips, brows, tongue, belly button…….maybe she has a split tongue too idk. Also she totally gets a ton of tattoos when she’s outta Hope’s Peak, prove me wrong.

Mikan uhhh. I like tall Mikan. She deserves the height. 5’8 to 6’0 Mikan good 👍

Hmm she probably has scars all over, particularly on her arms and legs. Uh. Idk I imagine she’s curvy probably. What do I say for her I don’t have anything skjdksjdks

I’m not even gonna lie I don’t have a damn thing for Nekomaru. Or. Wait nevermind here’s a concept: buff Nekomaru but like. If you’ve seen those wrestlers who have fat on them that hides some fucking crazy strength? Yeah that’s him. Also hairy asf.

Gundham……tall vampire vibes. I’d say he’s a stick but also I feel like he’s the slim type of muscular. Idk how to describe it. Shigaraki type muscle? Male gymnast. No nevermind those guys have visible muscle. Shigaraki type it is

Hmmm I think this is canon but probably a few scratches from his pets. His arms and legs mainly but I’m sure the Devas have scratched up his neck at some point or another. Just a little though. Also piercing fiend Gundham my beloved. I also like him having a couple tattoos when he’s older. Ibuki probably helped him heheh

I’m torn between Fuyuhiko being skinny as shit and Fuyuhiko being tiny and buff. I like both………hhh

His hair is probably bleached. Peko probably helps him re-dye it when his roots start growing in. I also like him having glasses

Uhhh tooth gap Fuyu’s cute. I used to have a super small one before I got my braces, I imagine it’s the same for him. Him, Ibuki, and Gundham are probably Tattoo Buds.

Kazuichi…..I want so bad to say he’s a weakling just to make fun of him but he’s a mechanic that probably works with heavy machine parts a lot and he probably has some sick biceps. But he probably also smells like hair dye, oil, metal, and Monster Energy. Win lose situation I guess.

I like to think he has a couple piercings? Not as many as Ibuki, but maybe he’s got like. Second or third place in the class. Also he totally filed his teeth to be sharp like that

Akane!! Buff lady, could probably deadlift me or something. She’s definitely got some scars from running around, especially when she was first learning parkour. Ummm oh, I like to think she has a chipped tooth or smth like that from falling roughly as a kid.

Soniaa <33 in my heart she will always be tall and have at least some muscle. Novoselic is a war country if I remember correctly, she’s definitely got some military training in her.

Idk why but her with heterochromia just popped into my head. That pretty greenish blue gray that she has + maybe brown or hazel? I think that’d be cool. And hip dips.

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tastyykpop · 4 years ago

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wait omg i love your stories!! can you do a bambam one where he shows you the tattoo that he got (the “kissing on my tattoos”!! i swear i died when i saw it) but like you’re joking around with him saying that it’s dumb and like later on you’re actually kissing on his tattoos and he starts laughing at you? only if you can and if possible smut thank you!!

a/n: omg this was so sweet 🥺🥺also this request is pure gold 😌 also sorry this isn't smut, I was a bit busy recently and kinda rushed it. I hope you still like it tho :)

[ᴋɪssɪɴ' ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ᴛᴀᴛᴛᴏᴏs]

Pairings: bambam x reader

sᴜɢɢᴇsᴛɪᴠᴇ

Warnings: marking, slight choking, very slight hair pulling

"So what are you saying?" Bambam stared down at you as you traced over the words on his collarbone.

Staring up at him, you smirked, "Im saying i absolutely hate it." You went back to admiring the tattoo, honestly you loved it, but because its bambam and you liked teasing him, youre gonna pretend to hate it. "Its dumb."

Bambam rolled his eyes, "I know you like it." You scoffed, still going over his soft skin and ever so lightly grazing your nails against it.

"I dont though." you paused before looking back up at bambam who had been watching you the whole time.

Bambam tilted his head at you with a raised eyebrow, "why not?" His arm slithered around your waist as he leaned back against the couch.

"I dont need a reason to dislike something." You said confidently through a grin and felt bambam squeeze your side, slightly annoyed by you at this point.

"So stop feeling my tattoo."

"Make me." You winked and ignored whatever sigh he let out.

Now looking at the tattoo again made you think; what if you actually kissed it? Would he actually like it? Its a bit interesting to think and to be honest, it didn't seem like a bad idea. His tattoo was nice anyway and its basically inviting you to do so.

Quickly leaning in, you put your lips on the black ink, shocking the man. His soft skin against your lips felt so nice and to the point where you started getting carried away, licking and biting at his skin. You only stopped when you felt him pull you off. A small chuckle from him made you tilt your head in confusion.

"Are you really kissing my tattoo?" Bambam started laughing more at you than anything else making your cheeks turn red. You didnt know whether to be embarrassed or to laugh back. "You do like my tattoos huh?"

You slowly nodded your head as your cheeks burned a bit.

"Kiss it again." You blankly stared at thw giggling bambam, wondering if he was being serious or if he was just going to laugh at you again. "Im not telling you again."

You hesitated but leaned forward ever so slowly, putting your lips on his skin. He tilted his head to the side, giving you more access to kiss and suck. The occasional sigh fell from bambams lips when you went over his sweet spot, making you go over it again and again just to hear him.

Bambam kept a hand tangled in your hair and another on the back of your neck to slightly squeeze. You were sure if you pulled back the hickeys on his collar bone would cover most of the tattoo, which wouldn't be too good if he wore something low cut, like he normally would. But you didnt care too much, you only cared about kissing his tattoo and bambam seemed to enjoy it more than you think.

Bambam pulled you into his lap as you kept your lips on his neck and colar bone and felt all over your body.

"Be good for me and let me treat you right tonight."

#at this point #i like teasing people with suggestive stories #cuz i know yall are thirsty for that smut 😌#bambam #got7 #got7 bambam #bambam got7 #got7 smut #bambam smut #got7 imagines #got7 fluff #got7 angst #got7 ask #ask #anon #this took long oops #kpop #kpop smut #kpop fluff

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i-did · 4 years ago

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HELLO 👋 I WAS SENT HERE BY PALMETT-HOES. What are your thoughts on the foxes + tattoos?? Originally it was Neil + tattoos but if you have thoughts of the other foxes too I'd love to hear them if you want to share 🥺

Okay, so I actually might try to become a tattoo artist and love tattoo culture. I also have already about 30 tattoos, some the size of my whole hand and some the size of a quarter, a lot of mixed and matched stuff. I also always try to think of the foxes in their timeline, so 2006-2007 era, and when I think said foxes would get tattoos in their life and why.

NEIL

First off: I personally HC Neil has keloid scarring and a lot of scarring so tattooing is hard on his skin. I have a friend who has more scars than I've ever seen on anyone else IRL before and we both love tattoos but even with him trying to prep the artist, unless they were a scar micropigmentation expert, they usually underestimated how hard it was going to be to tattoo on his skin. It's uneven and dense and doesn’t hold ink well. His non-scarred skin faired a lot better but his skin was something artists just weren't prepared for. I might get some micropigmentation on some skin grafts I got to even out the coloring and make it look more “natural” but I’m waiting to see if the pigment will settle and heal more first.

I personally don't see Neil ever getting a tattoo, and this bums a lot of people out lmao. I think his scars are too thick and too raised and it's too cosmetic and aesthetic centric for it to be something on his radar. On his skin that isn't touched by scars I think he would want to leave as be mostly out of neutrality. I don't see Neil as the type of sentimental tattooer, I see him thinking “well if it matters to me I remember it” sort of and him wanting to keep the really deep stuff personal just for himself and even another person putting it on him is someone else there. I think if he were ever to get a tattoo, he would be like… idk it would be the kind that says “yes I got shot, stop asking” over a bullet hole scar or like that one guy whos missing his leg and above it there's a tattoo that says “one foot in the grave” that's the only type of tattoo I can see Neil doing and even still I'm not convinced he would do it.

ANDREW

I don't ever see Andrew covering up his scars with tattoos either. I think he likes how the armbands can come on and off and be fully covered to not at all. He's not ashamed of them but he's private, and I think the tattoos could seem like he's trying to hide them when he's not-it's just nobody's business. I think if he were to get anything it would be American-traditional, it ages well, its classic, and doesn't really go out of style. Before the…. Let's say 80s, there weren't the different tattoo “styles” like there are today. It was just… tattoos in America. There was Japanese-style tattooing and then American-style tattooing, and since tattooing started curating its underground culture in the ’50s in America… those circles did not blend. They do now, but they sure as hell didn't then. So I could see Andrew with American-traditional because it's classic and I could see it appealing to him, but I could also see Russian prison tattoo style black-work something that appeals to him too. Get him some gulag tats. However if he had those, and since I currently HC him as white and with a buzzed or grown-out messy buzzed head, he would deadass look like a fuckin skinhead so... yeah lmao. Overall I don't see Andrew getting tattoos really, but if he would, American-traditional seems fitting.

KEVIN

Okay, so Kevin out here looking like a MF SoundCloud rapper with his single face tat and nothing else going on. I know it might be OOC but since his mom is Irish and I HC his dad as Maori (even tho in the canon Wymack likely has 90s new age tribalism, which is a complicated issue but instead I choose culturally significant tattoos over the tattoo trend that was largely popularized by a movie lmao anyways-).

So I think Kevin is the only one who dives into tattoo culture and bonds over it with his dad. If he just has the chess piece, it still feels like a branding, like a mark so distinct against the rest of him, but one full sleeve of Celtic knots and symbols and the other arm full of Maori's distinct tattoos of swirls and symbols could be a cool way for him to reclaim his own skin and have it not be something he did just to cover something up, but make tattooing something connecting him to his cultures and family.

NICKY

Nicky is the guy who got like, fierce, or pride, or something like that tattooed if he got a tattoo. I see Nicky getting a pride tattoo of some kind maybe and it being calligraphy or like if Nicky/Erik is a bear then he gets a bear paw. I could also see him getting his and Erik’s wedding date tattooed somewhere. I also don't see him as the type who didn't know how much research and shit goes into finding the artist for you, and kinda assumes you can go to just anyone and just walk in and then was like “wait what” when he couldn’t (or couldn't if he wanted to get exactly what he had in mind) so he probably got/gets tattooed by some non-homophobic apprentice, maybe even that apprentices first tattoo, and also since Nicky is Mexican and darker-skinned I doubt he thinks to put on sunscreen and the sun makes his ink lines bleed and so it doesn't age the best (it be like that).

ALLISON

Got a trendy tramp stamp to like, really stick it to her parents. Right on her lower back I bet it's the classic 2000s swirls and a butterfly and some of those stars, idk what they're called. If she was a young 20-year-old now tho she totally would have gotten a fine line tattoo, like not a tight three, a real 1 needle tattoo. They were seen as really nice back then and “so Cali” and like I could see /maybe/ her getting it done before she's 30 but they were not that common yet and like micro-realism is so new we still kinda don't know how it's going to age at all since tattoos before it have been designed they way they have for aging. Again if she got a micro-realism/single needle tattoo tho it would be something kinda basic like a butterfly or like a lion. I swear I've seen the same google image lion tattooed on a lotta people and like IDC it's your skin. But yeah, she gets the classic 2000s swirl butterfly and stars tattoo above her crack one night, maybe after a really bad phone call with her parents and she got drunk and pissed off. Maybe someone said she couldn't take the pain. (which btw, tattoos don’t hurt as much as they make them out to be in shows and shit, they can hurt tho)

DAN

I HC Dan as very dark-skinned, she's 75% black and 25% Sioux and grew up in a very very white area when outside her home on the res. Tattoo culture is still really sexist and really colorist, and at this point in history I think if she ever did want a tattoo, she maybe asked vaguely about it and they flat out said “I don't know how to tattoo on black skin” or “it doesn't go with my art” which… are shithole excuses and I think she thought, “well fuck u too” and never thought about it much since then.

RENEE

I HC as Renee as darker-skinned than Dan, and like the only places she could possibly get tattooed are maybe her palms, the bottoms of her feet, or her inner mouth probably. Some people genuinely are so dark that tattooing is hard, because it's based on the concept of black ink on a lighter surface, which is why scarification catches on in cultures where the skin is too dark to pigment with ink effectively. However, the idea of fuckin, 15-year-old Renee who is still Natalie with “PU$$Y” tattooed in her mouth kinda sends me. I think lil kid Renee thought she was gangster, and tbh she was, and I could see her getting some “fuck you/in your face” tattoo, especially if she was a lesbian in such a homophobic world, getting that tattooed is even better. We also know she got her back tatted in the EC with angel wings that look almost closer to dragon wings, so I imagine they show up as almost raised dark lines like scars from the untrained tattoo artist going way too deep, making it a cross between a tattoo and scarification, even if accidental. (also white ink really wasn't a thing yet and even now is still kinda hard to tell how it will heal, so that's why I don't think she gets any white ink tats)

MATT

He's a rich boy from NYC, he could really get like… whatever he wants. Once he's famous he can afford it that's for sure, but even before then he could with his allowance similar to Allison (even if on a completely different level). However, I doubt he gets anything lol. He's not particularly religious in my HC and doesn't have the same sense of being lost like I feel Kevin does with his own parents (I mean Kevin was raised like an orphan, kinda so it makes sense). I need to develop Matt’s background further on what it means to him personally to be a Filipino-American. I have several ideas about how his parents met in the Philippines and then came here but I would need to flesh out locations and then local cultures and then his parents said opinions on tattoos and then how matt would react to said opinions. I could see him possibly getting something for dan or his kids tattooed on. Which really makes me want to have him get his first kid's name tattooed really big or intricate somewhere like on his chest over his heart and then his kid comes out as trans and he's like “...fuck” lmao and gets it removed maybe and then redone or something. I see him viewing tattoos are personal and symbolic, and if he would get something it would probably be family-oriented, possibly Dan's portrait or like his baby's footprint which I've seen before.

AARON & SETH

Stick and pokes were not nearly as common then as they are now, and I feel like people kinda have to remember how taboo tattooing was then and still is now in a lot of cultures. My family is Not happy lmaoo. But it is what it is. Stick and Pokes were not a thing bored white middle-class teens did like I see them doing now. It was seen as super sketchy and I know someone who was 16 getting tattooed in a garage by someone who was both drunk and just out of prison for the first time, and that was seen as sketchy as stick and pokes at the time. I could imagine either Seth or Aaron having a failed and fucked up stick and poke tattoo, and out of the two of them, Seth seems like the drunk tat guy. Maybe once he got drunk and mad as fuck after Allison and him broke up and she said he didn't seem serious enough so he got her name drunkenly tattooed on his arm or something and then she was even more pissed because it was spelled wrong “YOU FORGOT THE SECOND L OMFG SETH.” (I can also imagine his future girlfriends don't love it lmao). I also love the idea of Seth just having Marvin the Martian or the Tasmanian Devil tattooed on his ass.

Anyways sorry for the lack of pictures but I didn't want to do that... so I didn't. I didn't go into niche tattoo culture and history like I was expecting myself to but this also got fuckin long. Might not be what you were hoping for at all but it is my current opinion on the foxes and tattoos. (This is also surprisingly free of my own personal aesthetic opinions on tattoos and that I'm kinda proud of ngl, since my preference is none of these, but also I grew up in a very different tattoo time than them)

#aftg #all for the game #ask #mailob #fig writes

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perfeggso · 4 years ago

Text

Noir (yutae)

Week IV pt. 1

Tokyo – fall of 1983: Nakamoto Yuta is quickly rising in the ranks of one of Japan’s most notorious yakuza families, and he’s poised to climb even further if he can stop himself from being ruined by the pretty Korean boy who’s shown up out of nowhere.

Glossary of Japanese words

Characters: Yuta x Taeyong + NCT ensemble, Twice J-line (for funsies)

Genres: Gang!AU, angst, smut, fluff, 1980s!AU

Warnings: graphic violence, swearing, minor character death, alcohol use, mentions of drugs, period-typical homophobia, xenophobia, BDSM

Rating: 18+

Length: 7k

“Okay,” said Yuta, “this is the last time I’ll ask – I promise. You’re sure I didn’t scare you last night?”

Taeyong sat in the passenger side of Yuta’s car, waiting in the pick-up area at Narita International Airport the morning after their first night together, listening to "4:00AM" by Taeko Onuki. He rolled his eyes.

“Yuta,” he began, “if I was going to be scared of you – which I am not, by the way – it wouldn’t be because you startled me when you yelled in the middle of the night, I can tell you that much.”

The night before, Taeyong had fallen asleep in Yuta’s arms; tired, sated, and oh so happy. His little bundle of positivity only unwound when he was shaken rudely awake in the early hours of the morning by Yuta screaming. It didn’t last for long, partially because Taeyong had used all the wits he could gather to coo over Yuta, calming him down and easing his tension, but it had been disturbing, nonetheless. When Taeyong felt like he’d waited a sufficiently long time for Yuta to regain his bearings, he’d ventured to ask what was the matter. All Yuta could put into words was that he’d had a bad dream, and that for as long as he could remember, his bad dreams could sometimes get horrifying or tangible enough to make him react quite violently in the real world, and he was sorry. Taeyong didn’t press him on what that particular dream was about, but it must have been quite upsetting. Who knew what kinds of things Yuta had seen in his life for his unconscious brain to draw upon? Anyway, the next morning Yuta couldn’t stop the incident from preoccupying him, apparently very worried that it would somehow make him less desirable or something. Taeyong was having none of it.

Yuta sighed as he sank farther into the driver’s seat, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. Taeyong felt a little pang of guilt that he might have insinuated that maybe he should fear Yuta for other, non-nightmare-related reasons. But like he said, he didn’t. He didn’t fear Yuta even though he’d watched him kill another man with his own eyes. Yuta was too sweet and odd, too predictably human, and made him feel too good to scare him.

“Okay, good. It just happens sometimes. Haven’t figured out how to control it yet,” Yuta said. He switched the topic. “How’s your ass, by the way?” Taeyong smiled to himself.

“It’s fine, but you did bruise me a tiny bit.”

Now it was Yuta smiling. “Sorry.” He didn’t seem very sorry, though. “Don’t Change” by INXS started to play over the radio.

“I don’t care,” Taeyong admitted. “I like a little reminder of who made me feel like this.”

“Good,” said Yuta. “Next time I’ll mark you up deliberately.”

Taeyong’s breath caught in his throat. Should they even be talking about this on the job? Wasn’t Yuta worried about being distracted? Still, he filed Yuta’s promise away in his mind so he could hold him to his word.

“You wanted tattoos, anyway,” Yuta teased. “I can give you the low commitment version.”

“You’re kinda corny sometimes, you know?” Taeyong said, causing Yuta to splutter laughter.

“Yeah,” he confessed, “I know.” He turned to regard Taeyong with a smile.

Taeyong hadn’t brought anything with him last night to change into for the next day, so (with permission!) he’d raided Yuta’s closet. Taeyong wouldn’t have minded wearing his clothes from the night before – they weren’t particularly slutty and no one he’d be seeing today had seen him in them the previous night – but they still smelled pretty bad from all the sweat and spilled alcohol lodged in their threads. Instead, Taeyong got to smell like Yuta.

He wore a Bauhaus t-shirt, black jeans, and a gray blazer with a little gold pin with the Inagawa-kai logo on it attached to the lapel. Yuta wore the same one on his black, patent-leather peacoat. He had paired that with black aviator sunglasses for a truly eye-catching combination. Taeyong thought it was funny that Yuta seemed incapable of not dressing like a mobster.

Before Yuta could say whatever he was about to, a blue BMW pulled up right next to them and rolled down the window, revealing Taeil in the driver’s seat and Mark by his side. Taeil was yelling something Taeyong couldn’t hear over the sound of departing airplanes, and apparently Yuta couldn’t understand it either because he yelled back for Taeil to repeat himself.

“What?” Taeil asked instead.

“He’s wondering if you’ve gotten any updates!” Mark repeated.

“No!” Yuta responded. “And why are you double-parking me? Just pull up a little!”

Taeil obliged and parked in front of Yuta and Taeyong, getting out once he’d cut the engine and walking to Yuta’s window. Yuta turned off the radio.

“Why do you need an update?” he asked.

Taeil rested his hands on the car door. “Because,” he explained, “Mark was hanging around headquarters and really wanted to come even though I kept telling him that if they brought more than one extra person with them I would not hesitate to leave him at the airport.”

“Why didn’t you just say no?” Yuta inquired.

“Because I thought he’d tell you I said no and then you’d be annoyed.”

Taeyong sat there as this whole interaction played out, watching Mark watch them from Taeil’s car. It seemed like Mark got a lot of preferential treatment. Not that Taeyong could talk.

“Alright,” said Yuta. “It’s not a problem. I don’t have any reason to believe there will be more people with Kun than he said.”

Taeil clapped his hands over the car door a couple of times. “Okay, just checking. Shategashira ?”

“Yeah?”

“ Would you have been annoyed with me?”

Yuta pondered the question for a minute, eyes dancing around the cabin of his car. “Probably,” he eventually admitted, smiling and looking at Taeil out of the corner of his eye.

“Knew it!”

Part of Taeyong wanted to know what Yuta’s deal was with Mark, scared the curiosity might be coming from a place of burgeoning jealousy. Taeyong was over the moon about his relationship with Yuta, but sometimes he cursed his own decision making. His infatuations always stressed him out terribly, and his situation was already stressful enough.

He watched as a group of well-dressed men exited the door Kun and his people were supposed to be emerging from. Yuta and Taeil were still talking – something to do with their meeting preparations, no doubt – and hadn’t seemed to notice the new arrivals in the pickup area.

“Is that them?” Taeyong asked.

Yuta and Taeil both snapped their heads in the direction Taeyong was pointing. Yuta blinked.

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “It is.”

“How many were there supposed to be?” Taeyong asked as a follow-up.

“Seven,” Taeil answered this time. “They brought two extras with them. Fuck.”

“Looks like someone’s going in the trunk,” Yuta joked.

Taeyong and Yuta got out of the car, walking over to the Triads with Taeil and Mark, who’d finally stepped out onto the curb. Taeyong thought he caught Mark giving him a once-over, perhaps registering the presence of Yuta’s clothing on his body.

“I thought I told you to stay at your post,” Yuta scolded.

Mark shrugged. “I thought this was a special occasion.”

The Triads were more inconspicuous than the Inagawa-kai usually were, their tall builds and dark clothing lending them all an appearance more akin to a celebrity and his bodyguards (although who the celebrity was could be up to interpretation) than to a group of criminals.

Kun, or at least the man Taeyong assumed was Kun, stood at the front of a near perfect triangle of his men, a relaxed confidence defining his features.

Kun and Yuta acknowledged each other with a bow.

“ Shategashira , good to see you,” Kun greeted.

“ Fu Shan Chu , the honor’s all mine.”

Taeyong didn’t know what Kun’s title meant, but he had a feeling Yuta wasn’t pronouncing it very well. Not that he could have done any better. As Taeil and Mark quickly extended their own greetings, Taeyong prayed a silent ‘thank you’ that the Triads all spoke Japanese; he didn’t need to be any more confused than he already was basically nonstop. Although after a moment of thought, he realized this made perfect sense considering these men had been hand-picked to attend an important business meeting (if you could call it a “business meeting”) in Japan.

“Taeyong,” Yuta began, the indulgent tone Taeyong had grown more and more used to him using when they were together overtaking his voice, “I want you to meet some dear friends.”

Kun introduced himself first as a Deputy, second in command of his syndicate and in charge of international business; then came Sicheng, a skilled tracker and fighter despite his lithe build; followed by Ten, the Hong Kong liaison for the group’s Thai offshoot who explained by way of introduction that, since no one could ever pronounce his real name, he went by ‘Ten’ for the number of people he’d personally “interrogated” by the time he decided he needed a nickname (“but now I’ve lost count”). The three of them were followed by Yukhei, a tall Hong Kong native and self-described yes-man for Ten; Dejun, who kept his introduction succinct but fixed an almost manic positive energy on Taeyong the whole time he spoke; Kunhang, the “Macanese Snoop,” whatever that meant; and Yangyang who once worked for the Taiwanese Triads and was in charge of smuggling since he used to do it between West and East Germany for some reason Taeyong didn’t quite catch. The seven men were able to pack so much information into their introductions because they kept jumping in on each other’s sentences, adding information they deemed pertinent about their friends seemingly as a way of hyping one another up.

Once the seven men in front finished, Yuta peaked exaggeratedly to the back of the group to address the stragglers.

“And you two, it seems to me, are none other than Zhong Chenle and Huang Renjun, all grown up now, hm?” The pair smiled mischievously at each other. They wore almost schoolboy-like suits that looked a little too expensive to be trusted in the hands of a late teen or early twenty-something, as they appeared to be.

“Hello Yuta-san,” they each chimed, a bit out of synch.

“I can tell that you’ve aged too, Shategashira,” quipped the shorter of the two. The taller joined in.

“Yeah, please make sure you’re getting enough sleep, sir.” Chenle and Renjun tittered as the Triads rolled their eyes and Kun shot them an absolutely lethal glare.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” Mark jested from over Taeyong’s left shoulder. “You’re on Yuta’s turf now and I can promise from experience you don’t want to see him pissed. Can’t run to your daddies here.”

Now it was Chenle rolling his eyes. “Shut the fuck up, Mark,” he said, and Mark cackled in amusement.

“Thank you, Mark,” Taeil interjected, a cautious impatience practically dripping from his voice. “I think our Shategashira can defend himself.”

“Great!” said Yuta, trying to regain control of the interaction. Taeyong was starting to get nervous because they were all still standing out in the open outside one of Narita’s many exits, and it wouldn’t have taken that much imagination on the part of an onlooker to identify them as a group of gangsters. Yuta didn’t seem nervous though, so Taeyong pushed his anxiety as far down as he could until it was nearly imperceptible. Yuta leaned closer to him a bit as he aimed to guide Taeyong through their ongoing introductions.

“Those two meiwaku are the sons of Triad commanders. They’re completely spoiled, as you can see.” Taeyong almost giggled, amused by the amount of time Yuta seemed to spend getting bullied by people who were barely out of high school. Yuta continued. “So that’s everyone,” he concluded, pulling away from Taeyong.

“I’m humbled to meet you all,” Taeyong said, brain overloaded for the hundredth time in a month by all the new faces and by Yuta’s proximity.

Yuta brushed his finger over Taeyong’s sleeve. It was a small movement and he doubted anyone else saw, but Taeyong had to suppress the heat threatening to overtake his face. Yuta never got into the personal space of his subordinates while conducting business, but then again, Taeyong was an exception in more ways than one. He couldn’t decide if he was more irritated by Yuta messing with him or by his own oversensitivity.

“You don’t have to use kenjougo with them,” Yuta joked. “Polite language will do. They’re all younger than you, anyway.”

Taeyong balked. He knew that Chenle and Renjun were young, but his tone hadn’t been meant for them. And he thought Yuta was a prodigy...

“You want to introduce yourself, Taeyong?” Yuta suggested.

“Oh, right! Hello, my name is Lee Taeyong and I’m sort of a member-in-training, I suppose. I’m helping Yuta prepare for your upcoming meeting.” Taeyong bowed, having rushed through his introduction, and he was glad no one could see his downcast eyes go wide when he felt Yuta’s palm just above the small of his back, guiding him upright. Could he not?

“Taeyong’s been a great asset to us lately,” said Yuta, and Taeyong thought he detected the tiniest hint of teasing in his words. “I trust you’ll all come to appreciate him as we have.”

Taeyong heard Taeil sigh from behind him. “We should be going,” he stated, “but I regret to inform you that one of the pipsqueaks is going to need to improvise in terms of seating on the way into the city. We were expecting fewer people.”

Kun smiled wryly. “Maybe I should have hired a professional driver,” he joked and Taeil stiffened in irritation. “But no,” he continued, “I understand. These two insisted last minute on a vacation to Tokyo and their fathers didn’t listen to my concerns about bringing them, so here we are. We’ll figure it out.”

“Shall we?” asked Yuta, turning on his heel towards the parked cars, and Kun made a hand motion that signaled for all the Triads to follow.

“You know,” said Taeil, as he watched Mark drop back in formation to share more personal greetings with some of his Triad buddies, “we could just put Mark in the trunk, and this wouldn’t be an issue. He did insist on joining after all.”

Mark turned his attention from Yukhei to Taeil and scowled. “If you do that, I’ll yell so loud you get pulled over and then I’ll say I’m being kidnapped by the yakuza,” he warned.

Ten sidled up to Mark and regarded him casually, a smirk forming on his face. “Uh-huh,” he said, “and what do you think the cops will make of that Irezumi on your wrist?”

“Shut up,” said Mark, seeming to resign himself to an uncomfortable ride back.

Taeyong and Yuta returned to their car, trailed by Ten, Kun, and a skittish Renjun who held a finger to his lips as he slipped into the middle seat in back. Taeyong paused in front of the vehicle for a moment, next to the passenger side door. He was fairly certain he wasn’t supposed to sit shotgun, considering he had the lowest rank of the five of them save Renjun. He looked at Yuta questioningly, expecting a word or gesture directing him to the back seats. Instead, Yuta nodded for Taeyong to enter where he was, so Taeyong opened the door and sat in front, trying to be small and invisible by moving as little as possible. Kun and Ten didn’t seem to question it.

“Thank you for choosing Inagawa chauffeur service,” Yuta said jokingly once everyone was inside. It took a moment to get going because Mark was trying to force Chenle into the trunk of Taeil’s car and Chenle responded by flailing and emitting a screech so high in pitch that Taeyong worried it might shatter all the windows of both cars.

“You’re a smart boy, Renjun,” Kun stated, “choosing to come in this car.”

“Yeah,” Ten chimed, “what would you have done if we tried to force you into the trunk?”

Renjun smirked. “I have a pocket knife on me and I’m not afraid to use it…” he explained in response, making everyone laugh. In front of them, Mark pouted as the trunk door finally closed over him. Taeyong caught a smile on Yuta’s face out of his peripheral vision as both car engines started.

***

Taeyong had only been to the “training room” at headquarters a couple of times before. The first time had been when Doyoung decided to nab him and teach him knife throwing, and the second was when Jaehyun asked him to hold arm pads for him to punch. The space was painted yellow from floor to ceiling and had harsh lighting and mold growing like shadows in the corners. One section had weights, mats, and boxing equipment set up next to a mirror; one, some knives and targets; and one, a table and small sitting area.

The Triads had only been in town a few hours and already, they seemed to be getting quite comfortable. When Taeyong had a moment of free time, Ten and a few others grabbed him without explanation and dragged him off to go “have some fun and get to know each other.” Apparently, that meant subjecting him to public mortification.

Sicheng had his arms wrapped around Taeyong’s midsection, bending him over and essentially demobilizing him. Taeyong breathed heavily, unable to do anything but struggle and watch the speckled floor under him shift along with his jerky movements.

“Sicheng, maybe go easy on him?” he heard Kunhang suggest from the table area, where some of the Triads were sat watching.

“I thought Inagawa was tougher than this,” Yangyang heckled, and Taeyong felt hot shame pile on top of his bodily discomfort.

Dejun piped up next. “He’s new, Yangyang, give him a break.”

Taeyong wanted to respond, but he was too busy trying to defend himself physically to do it verbally. Sicheng brought his knee up into Taeyong’s stomach, just hard enough to startle him without hurting him too badly. He used Taeyong’s disorientation to trip him, and next thing he knew, Taeyong was sore and heaving with his ass on the padded floor.

“Or don’t go easy on him,” Kunhang remarked. “Either way.”

Taeyong looked to his audience. Dejun, Kunhang, and Yangyang were all sitting around the table in the corner, a neglected game of poker which had started as a way of blowing off some competitive steam after “training” laid out between them. Ten stood a bit off to the side, arms crossed and gaze sharp with scrutiny. He took a couple of strides towards Taeyong and Sicheng, a smirk overtaking his mouth as he looked down at Taeyong like he was prey. Taeyong had met plenty of scary people in his life, and the frequency of such encounters had only increased since he started hanging around the yakuza, but Ten, with his wicked expressiveness and black leather suit in this moment gave Taeyong a chill of pure terror.

He noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head to see it was Sicheng reaching his hand out to help Taeyong up. He smiled, face inviting and a welcome contrast to Ten’s entire aura. Taeyong took his hand and let Sicheng pull him to his feet.

“I thought you were supposed to be Yuta’s bodyguard,” Ten said plainly.

“Well, not exactly,” Taeyong tried to explain. “I just follow him around and keep a lookout for trouble; anything suspicious.”

Ten narrowed his eyes in a way Taeyong felt had to be partly for show. “That’s all, huh? Doesn’t sound like much.” Ten looked Taeyong head to toe and hummed thoughtfully. “Could there be another reason Yuta keeps you around?”

Jesus Christ, did everyone know? The room felt suddenly cold as Taeyong’s body came down from his previous exertion. He tried to suppress a shiver as his brain rushed to come up with a response. Thankfully, Sicheng stepped in.

“He knows how to fight, Ten, he’s just used to fighting brainless brutes.”

Taeyong nodded, hurrying to redeem himself. “Sicheng’s right,” he confirmed. “M’sorry.”

Ten let out a laugh through his nose. “No need to grovel,” he said, smile growing slightly less intimidating. He pushed a finger playfully into Taeyong’s shoulder, sending Taeyong’s mind reeling. “Anyway, I heard you saved Yuta from an assassin, so I’m in your corner. I’m just taking it upon myself to help you improve and make yourself even more useful.”

Taeyong laughed in confusion, spitting out a sarcastic, “gee, thanks.”

Dejun expelled a sound of wounded disappointment from behind Ten, certainly brought about by the poker game. Kunhang and Yangyang snickered. Ten ignored them all, keeping his attention trained on Taeyong. He raised an eyebrow and smiled, catlike.

“Wanna see something cool?”

“Sure?” Taeyong ventured, not sure if this was another way of saying “let’s have some fun and get to know each other.” He steadied his core in case Ten decided to tackle him or something.

Instead, Ten opened his leather jacket, giving his torso the effect of having bat wings. Taeyong was surprised, but not as surprised as he would have been a month ago, to see the glint of what had to be at least two dozen small metal weapons emanating from the lining.

“Shit…”

“Nice, huh?” Ten prompted, and Taeyong felt compelled to nod in agreement. Ten used his head to indicate the right side of his jacket, where he had stored a slew of small knives, brass knuckles, and throwing stars, among other things Taeyong didn’t recognize.

“This side is for hand to hand combat,” he explained, smiling like a snake about to bite. He indicated to his left next, where he had some longer and thicker knives, plyers, metal clamps, and a bouquet of slim needles, each about nine inches in length. “And this side is for extracting information.” Ten seemed to register Taeyong’s cautious surprise. “I only show you this so you know what you’re up against,” he cooed.

“Al-alright,” Taeyong almost swallowed his words. “I appreciate it.”

Before Ten could terrorize him any further, the door swung open and everyone was looking to see who had arrived. It was Yukhei, trailed by Yuta.

“Yup, they’re in here,” Yukhei was saying, holding the door open for Yuta to enter.

Yuta stalked towards Taeyong, Ten, and Sicheng and the boys at the corner table all stood in greeting.

“Ten,” Yuta said in mock disapproval, “are you traumatizing my poor partner?”

“I’d call it ‘educating,’” Ten responded. “If he gets traumatized that’s simply a byproduct of necessary learning.”

“Okay, Ten, just don’t scare him off,” Yuta replied.

“It’s not like I could leave if I wanted to,” Taeyong grumbled, and Yuta shot him a cutting look, but it softened quickly into an expression of vague sadness.

“Taeyong, you’re wanted in room 2A.”

Taeyong schooled his face. “Right away, Shategashira .”

Yuta turned on his heel and exited the room. Yukhei stayed by the door, Taeyong figured, because Ten needed him. Taeyong followed hesitantly after, but Yukhei stopped him on the way out, looming over him but smiling so genuinely that Taeyong felt more comforted than scared.

“If it’s any consolation,” Yukhei began, a thick accent coating his deep voice, “Sicheng kicks my ass all the time too.”

Taeyong had a hard time believing that considering Yukhei, though he was roughly the same height as Sicheng, was noticeably larger in every other way. He was probably either too nice or too reliant on blunt force. Taeyong let out a breathy laugh.

“Thanks. That does make me feel a bit better.”

“No problem.”

Taeyong left, hearing Ten’s call of “bye-bye, Taeyong! I’ll see you again soon!” echo down the hall after him. His stomach sank when he thought of the coldness he’d accidentally caused in Yuta, but the other man was nowhere to be found so he figured he’d just report where he was needed and find Yuta later.

Room 2A was one floor down. Taeyong tried to open it himself but it was locked, so he opted to bang on the metal to announce his presence. It opened, a grinning pair of faces belonging to Johnny and Mina greeting him on the other side.

“Yonggie!” Mina exclaimed, moving herself away from the entrance so Taeyong could pass her, which he did. “Welcome!”

The room was little more than a cinder block box with a metal chair in the center. If Taeyong didn’t trust Mina and Johnny at this point, he would be expecting something horrible to occur in such a room.

“What’s going on, you guys?” Taeyong asked.

Johnny closed the door and came to lean on the wall across from Taeyong.

“Why don’t you take a seat,” he suggested, and Taeyong did. “We’re here to impart on you some very valuable lessons.”

Taeyong grimaced. He was exhausted from what Sicheng had put him through and just wanted to find Yuta. He’d had enough “education” and “lessons” for one day. Nevertheless, he figured he had no choice but to indulge his captors.

“What lessons are those?” Taeyong asked, rocking himself slightly against his chair. Mina joined Johnny on the wall.

She answered, “Tactics for resisting interrogation.”

Taeyong started. “Whoa. Okay…”

“I know it sounds bad,” said Johnny, “but it’s really important for you to know. Yuta asked us to do this.”

Taeyong felt his skin prickling as he grew more nervous. Why didn’t Yuta just teach him himself, then? he wondered, posing the question out loud.

Johnny smirked. “Because, he has important shit to get done. He can’t tend to his Yonggie constantly. He has to delegate some of that.”

Taeyong gritted his teeth. “Alright, alright. But why do I need to know this? I’m practically useless so why would anyone bother kidnapping me?”

Johnny slid down the wall until he was crouching against it, his face softening in mild concern.

“First of all,” he said, “you should know you’re not useless, Taeyong.”

“Yeah!” Mina added. “He might give you a hard time, but Johnny keeps telling me how much he likes having you around.” Johnny smiled at this.

“You hang around with a Lieutenant all day!” he said, and Mina finished his sentiment with, “you are TOTALLY kidnappable, Taeyong!”

Taeyong laughed at the preposterousness of this compliment. “Thanks, guys. I’m sorry, I’m just in a bit of a mood today,” he explained. “And I guess you’re right.”

“Of course we are,” Johnny said, pushing back off the wall to standing. “Anyway, now that we’re all on the same page, this is where things might get a bit unpleasant again. We give this training to every member of the syndicate and all of our serious romantic partners, so contrary to your instincts, you are doubly in need of this.”

Taeyong squirmed, uncomfortable in a bad way over the fact that he wasn’t technically a syndicate member yet and uncomfortable in a good way at the knowledge that Yuta considered him serious .

Mina smiled. “Don’t worry, this has come in handy for me, for sure.”

“That just makes me worry more, you realize?” Taeyong replied with a grimace.

“Okay, fair enough. Sorry. But it’s better you know than end up dead or betraying your friends and boyfriend!”

“Taeyong,” Johnny began. “Let’s start with what you know. When you picture a yakuza kidnapping, what’s happening?”

Taeyong’s mind flew to the image of Ten’s sparkling and deadly bat wings. “I try not to picture that, but I saw what Ten carries around with him, so I think I have an idea.”

Johnny laughed hollowly as Mina watched him. “Yeah, Ten’s a special guy. I think he’s the only person I’ve met who genuinely enjoys that part of the job. Anyway, so you know it could get bad.”

Johnny lifted his shirt to reveal his lower abdomen. There was a long, thin scar across his obliques, slicing an inked koi fish in half.

“Knives are common,” he explained vaguely. “I got this one from a Sumiyoshi thug nicknamed ‘The Butcher.’ But we’ll get to that later.”

Taeyong swallowed thickly as he tried to steady his buzzing eyes. Johnny continued.

“Obviously, you know that we expect you not to divulge any sensitive information. There are three things you are allowed to confirm for your captors though, just to get them thinking you won’t be a complete pain in their asses. Those three things are name, rank, and clan. Got it?”

Taeyong remembered how Yuta had lost patience quickly with the Yamaguchi assassin who refused to give any personal details. He didn’t want to end up like that guy. He nodded.

“Lee Taeyong, Kumi-in, Inagawa-kai,” he recited, as if anyone in the room didn’t already know.

“But no more than that,” Johnny confirmed.

“Another important thing to keep in mind,” Mina continued, “is that there are ways to avoid the worst tactics. If they’ve gone to the trouble of capturing you, that’s because they think you have crucial information that they need. It’s in their interest to keep you alive.”

Taeyong nodded along, determined to be a good student as he realized more and more clearly the very real possibility he might need to use some of what he was learning.

“Although it can be tempting to act defiant as if you’re not bothered by the pain, and many experienced gangsters will do this to avoid hurting their fragile little egos,” Mina looked pointedly at Johnny, who just shrugged, guilty, “it can do you some good to play to the opposite. You should exaggerate your injuries and pain. Even if they try to use that against you and humiliate you, ultimately if they think you’re closer to death than you are they’ll let up much faster. Make sense?”

Taeyong nodded quickly. Exaggerated pain, he could do that. “Makes sense,” he confirmed.

“Okay,” Johnny went on, “another thing. Obviously if you ever did get kidnapped, we’d send some people out to find you, and hopefully they’d be successful.”

Taeyong shifted in his seat, watching Johnny start to pace. Hopefully .

“When you do get rescued, for that to end well you need to stay calm and not try to join in the fight. If they see you moving around a lot or if you look like you’re about to break out of whatever restraints they have you in and fight back, then they’re way more likely to treat you like an enemy combatant and not like a prisoner. You could get killed. It’s kind of counterintuitive, but it’s important.”

Taeyong rolled his ankles, gaining some comfort out of the way the stretch and crack of the movement soothed his muscles. He took a deep breath.

“Hey guys, why are we doing this right now? Am I in danger?”

Mina and Johnny exchanged a glance, sending Taeyong’s heart racing even faster than it already was as he tried to decipher their silent communication. Mina spoke first.

“Not necessarily,” she said.

“We just want to prepare you,” Johnny added. “Well, Yuta wanted us to prepare you because he’s been really worried since that assassin came after you two. We can’t be sure that anything too serious will go down but if, say, a gang war does start over this Mitsubishi thing, we want you to be prepared. Got it?”

“Oh…yeah, got it.” Taeyong sighed. “I supposed it’s too late to just…let me go, huh?”

Johnny’s face screwed up and Mina’s twitched. Taeyong thought of their conversation at Johnny’s pachinko bar, assuming she too was pouring over the memory of her own warnings.

“I – look,” Johnny began, and Taeyong already knew the answer he was about to receive. “It’s been discussed, and the higher ups are adamant; you’ll be given the choice as soon as the Mitsubishi deal is secured, but no earlier. They felt they needed to bring you on in the beginning, and I’m in no position to question if that was overkill, but at this point you’re certainly stuck, considering all the information you have.” Taeyong nodded, eyes fluttering to the floor as Johnny leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. He huffed a breath. “Do you – do you want to leave, Taeyong?”

Taeyong blinked. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know what leaving would mean or where he could ever go. His new life was exciting in a way he’d always dreamed about and he liked the people around him more than he’d liked anyone in a long time; Johnny and Mina going out of their way to help him stay safe, the other Tora regiment members all welcoming him so easily, and Yuta…god, Yuta… At the same time though, Taeyong’s new life hadn’t managed to shake the feeling he so often had that he was floating through existence, incapable of being grounded even by the most intense experiences. He wasn’t used to things working out for him. Besides, the last time he made a major decision for himself, he’d been called xenophobic names and battered within an inch of his life.

“I…don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t think so, anyway, but I don’t want to be a liability.”

Johnny smiled slightly. “That’s not worth worrying about because you aren’t.”

Taeyong wasn’t convinced, but he nodded anyway. “Alright,” he said. “What else have you got to teach me?”

Johnny and Mina let him go after another half hour or so of discussion, teaching him how to school his demeanor to fit somewhere between deference and defiance, how to relax himself in a way that would prevent excessive bleeding and make blows easier to endure, and how to give answers that kept the line of questioning going but revealed nothing to the interrogators. By the time he left room 2A, Taeyong was wondering if he should feel empowered or petrified, his mind careening from one emotion to the other with every new thought. Once he was done processing, he decided to find Yuta.

He’d barely had the chance to talk to him all day and it was weird for him. The night before had been ridiculously intimate, Yuta fucking him so well, opening up to him about his past, and holding him as they fell asleep; so the weird shifts Taeyong had observed all day in Yuta between teasing and aloof were giving him whiplash since he couldn’t ask what was causing them. He hoped Yuta wasn’t busy.

“ Douzo .”

Taeyong’s heart sank when he opened Yuta’s office door and saw Kun there, though he tried not to show it.

“Taeyong, what is it?” Yuta asked, an air of impatience radiating from him and from Kun as he turned around to see who was there.

“ Shategashira ,” Taeyong saluted. He felt like it was his first day all over again. “Sorry to interrupt. I was just hoping to speak with you whenever you’re free.”

Yuta’s expression softened. “Of course. Why don’t you sit by the window while we finish up?”

“Thank you,” Taeyong said, bowing sheepishly and settling into one of the indicated chairs. “Excuse me.”

Kun looked sideways at Taeyong, silent.

“You can speak freely in front of him,” assured Yuta. Kun nodded and pulled his attention back to the matter at hand.

“I just don’t understand how they would have gotten ahold of that information. Could it have been through Donghyuck’s crew?” By “they” Taeyong assumed Kun meant the Yamaguchi-gumi.

Yuta shook his head, placing his fingers in a check mark shape at his chin. “I doubt it. Donghyuck is extremely careful.”

Kun was growing exasperated. Taeyong felt like maybe this was an interaction he shouldn’t be witnessing. He didn’t quite know why he felt that way, though.

“Well, Yuta, there has to be a weak link somewhere, and I trust that you’ll eliminate it. We’re already in a less stable position than I was expecting upon arrival.”

Yuta smiled accommodatingly. “Thank you for your confidence. The leak could have also come from a different regiment, but I’m doing all I can to weed out whoever is responsible.”

“Good,” said Kun. “Our success and our partnership could depend on this.”

“I understand.”

Right then, Chenle and Renjun showed up at the door, having finished a shopping trip down the street, to tell Kun that Ten was looking for him. Taeyong thought he saw Kun direct a sliver of a smile his way as he left.

Yuta sat up and joined Taeyong by the window in the chair to his left. He sat and sighed, a big, open smile overtaking his face. There was the whiplash again.

“Hi baby,” he said.

“Hi.”

“Did Johnny and Mina give you the talk?”

Taeyong snorted a laugh, looking at Yuta from under his fringy bangs. “Yeah, they did.”

“You okay?” Yuta asked. Taeyong shrugged.

“Could’ve been worse,” he guessed. “Good stuff to know.”

Yuta leaned in. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“I guess a little. But there was other stuff too.”

Taeyong looked around Yuta’s office. He’d been stuck almost all day in rooms with concrete walls and fluorescent lighting, and it was making him want to jump out of his skin. He told Yuta to wait a moment for him to get up and turn off the lights. On second thought, while he was up and about, he opened the window to flush the room of the stench of stale cigarette smoke. Yuta watched him with caution as he underwent his little chores. Taeyong turned from the window and made his way back to his chair, eyes finally able to relax in the dimness.

“Johnny and Mina said you’re worried I might be in danger.”

Yuta sighed again. “I don’t necessarily think you’re in imminent danger, but I want to be safe. It’s always a possibility. Sorry if I scared you.”

“Like I told you this morning,” Taeyong repeated. “You don’t scare me. I just want you to be up front with me.”

“Up front, huh?” Yuta paused, his eyes flitting over the floor in thought. “Truth is I’ve been worried about you since the Yamaguchi assassin. It’s always risky to take on a new recruit, or a lover for that matter,” Taeyong blushed at the word, “but up until that point I don’t think the danger felt as real. I would never forgive myself if I let something bad happen to you, Taeyong.”

One of the things Taeyong had been wondering about clicked into place for him. “Your dream last night…is that what – ”

“Yes. That’s part of why I was worried about frightening you. Thought I might have said something while unconscious about you, I don’t know, getting abducted or something.”

“You didn’t,” said Taeyong, breathing a laugh.

“Good.” Yuta smiled, gaze trained at the open window and fingers fiddling with the bottom of his blazer. Taeyong wondered if he was nervous to make eye contact. “And then later when you mentioned how you’re basically stuck with me, then I felt like shit all over again because it’s true: you’re essentially my hostage.” With that, Yuta finally looked Taeyong in the face. “I just don’t know what to do when you say things like that. I know this seems silly, I mean I’ve never shied away from doing arguably unethical things before, but I couldn’t help but ask myself if you even like me -- ”

The pressure that had been threatening to send Taeyong shooting out of his own body finally became too much, and in lieu of doing the impossible, he found himself damming up Yuta’s stream of consciousness with a kiss.

“There we go,” he teased, pulling away and reveling in the awestruck look on Yuta’s face. “I had to shut you up somehow.”

Yuta’s face hadn’t moved since the kiss ended and a smile was spreading over it like melting butter. “That’s no way to speak to your commander,” he teased back, sounding a little drunk on relief. Taeyong spoke.

“ Shategashira , I hope you can forgive me. But you are being ridiculous. I like you, okay? And it’s not because I’m scared or brainwashed. I like you because I like you . I like the way you make me feel. I’m sorry for making you think I wanted to leave.”

Yuta took Taeyong’s hand and kissed it. “ I’m sorry for being such a basket case. Aish, it’s embarrassing, huh?”

Taeyong snorted. “Oh please. If you weren’t insecure sometimes, I might actually be afraid of you.”

He smiled to himself, wondering for a moment if maybe he needed to stop thinking so much and just bask in the strange twist of fate that had brought him and Yuta together. They were still getting to know each other, but Taeyong had never been with someone so charismatic yet so open. If he was going to risk being kidnapped and tortured it might just end up being worth it. Taeyong allowed himself to be lost enough in thought that a few seconds felt like minutes and he barely heard it when the door flung open without warning. Yuta heard it though, wrenching his fingers from where they were laced between Taeyong’s.

“Yuta-san!” said Renjun as he entered the room trailed by Chenle. “What’s going on in here?”

Yuta glared. “Didn’t anyone teach you to knock? That’s very disrespectful.”

“Sorry, didn’t know you had anything to hide,” Chenle quipped. “Anyway, Kun is looking for you again.”

Yuta stood, reluctantly it seemed to Taeyong. “Why couldn’t he send someone else to fetch me?”

Chenle rolled his eyes as they left the room and on the way out Taeyong heard Renjun explain, “because, he told us if all we were gonna do was loiter he might as well put us to use.”

Taeyong giggled, catching himself when Yuta peered back through the door. “Hey, you can go home. Or stick around and make some friends, yeah?”

Taeyong nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed, and Yuta rapped his knuckles against the door with a grin before he was gone. Taeyong stood, determined to have some Triad friends by the end of the day.

#my fanfic #my work #nct #nct 127 #yuta #nct fanfic #nakamoto yuta #taeyong #yutae #nct dream #noir #1980s! au #neothestars #yakuza #gang!au #nct 2020 #nctnetwrite #nct lee taeyong #nct nakamoto yuta

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thecursedhellblazer · 4 years ago

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MUSE FILE.

Tagged by: @rapxir (( Thanks, gal! )) Tagging: @thegreenxrcher @paradiseturnedhell @adventurepunks (Nick) @cosmosfated @laughter-in-white @awaywardboy-andhisangel (Dean?) @darkdabbling @xstabcastx (Ava) @pi-jessicajones - & whoever wants to steal it ! (Tag me if you do!)

BASICS!

AGE: Verse dependant (adults main verse: 40-45, but looks 5-10 years younger) GENDER: Male SEXUALITY: Pansexual / Demiromantic INTROVERT, EXTROVERT, OR OMNIVERT?: Omnivert. John adapts his behaviour depending on the circumstances and who he is dealing with. That makes it extremely hard to get to know him, or to figure out when he is honest or when his attitude is simply part of the umpteenth act. HEIGHT: 5′11″ BODY TYPE: Slender, not the fittest, but not overly soft either. EYES: Blue HEALTH: Physically, he is mostly healthy, despite the amounts of cigarettes he smokes and how much he drinks. The demon blood has a great part in keeping him that way, so he can be moderately fit even despite his bad habits. Mentally, he is anything but. Between PTSD, depression, night terrors, addiction to both nicotine and alcohol, and a possible personality disorder, a psychologist or a psychiatrist would have a field day with him. MEDICATIONS: Do unhealthy amounts of alcohol and cigarettes and the occasional drugs count? TEMPERAMENT: Charismatic, smooth, smart, apparently affable and somewhat compassionate on one side, and cynical, ill-tempered, nasty to the point of being sadistic, dangerous and not the best example of mental health on the other.

FAMILY!

FATHER: Thomas Constantine (deceased) MOTHER: Mary Anne Constantine (née Quinn, deceased in childbirth) SIBLINGS: Still born twin brother (“The Golden Boy”), Cheryl Masters (older sister) SPOUSE: None / verse dependant...kinda CHILDREN: Two adopted kids (Timothy Hunter and Ruby Dixon) None PETS: None / verse dependant

ADDITIONAL!

SMOKES: He is a chain smoker. DRINKS: He can be clinically defined as an alcoholic. DRUGS: He did some in his younger days, now rarely, mainly when he is so messed up that cigarettes and alcohol can’t do their job properly. DIET: The only times he eats properly is when there is someone taking the task of feeding him upon themselves (usually it’s Chas). Otherwise, John either eats whatever he finds or completely forget that humans can’t live off alcohol and the occasional glass of water or juice. The only meal he can truly be bothered to cook is breakfast, even if he ends up making it at the oddest times of the day and the night, and not when he should. That also connects to how changeable is routine is. His eating habits get a little better when he is staying with someone or when he has guests he gives a damn about. He actually makes an effort to provide decent food at the right time, even if he doesn’t often succeed. It’s more likely that whatever company he is having does that job in his place. ALLERGIES / INTOLERANCE: None that he knows of. TATTOOS: John has several tattoos spread all over his body (arms, chest, back, some of his legs too). They are almost (if not all) seals and symbols used in spells, protections, or at least have a magical meaning. Visual comics reference: here. MAKE-UP: It something he used to put on in his younger days, especially whenever the Mucous Membrane had a concert. Nowadays, he almost never does. JEWELERY: He usually wears a watch (not a very expensive one, so it doesn’t really count as a jewel) and he has his ears pierced in different spots (from his punk days), but he doesn’t often wears earrings. GLASSES / CONTACTS?: None. PERFUME?: He wears cologne from time to time, usually if he has a date of some sort or has to meet with some specific people (Zatanna for example) and he is given the time to prepare. Also, if he needs to attend events or go to places with a dress code (if he bothers enough to do it).

MISC!

WRITES LOVE POETRY?: He has written a few love songs during the years, and has even sang some of them to the people they were addressed to. It’s definitely not a habit for him, though. CELEBRATES BIRTHDAY?: If he can help it, he doesn’t. It’s one of the worst days of the year for him (if not the worst), because it’s also the anniversary of his mother’s death and it marks the beginning of everything that has gone downhill in his life. He usually hides away, refusing to see anyone, with the only goal of drinking and smoking the day away. If anyone is stubborn enough to try and change his routine, they usually end up becoming the target of John’s ugliest moods. FAVOURITE COLOUR?: Blue, in all its shades. SLEEPS: His sleeping patterns are inconsistent and rarely regular and he has nightmares more often than not. There are times when the only way he has to fall asleep is drinking himself into oblivion. Other times, he is so exhausted that he passes out before his body touches the bed. And then there are the times where, whether on purpose or not, he stays up for several days in a row. HAS PLUSHIES?: None and he never had one. As a kid, at times he stole Cheryl’s old ones, but it was just to annoy her. MUSIC TASTE?: Mostly punk, rock, some metal and any combination of those. He doesn’t mind a bit of folk music too, from time to time, especially the Irish one. READS?: He mostly reads newspapers and magical/occult tomes. For leisure, he reads a bit of everything, even if he enjoys historical dramas and thrillers/horrors the most. At times he digs up comic books, even if less often. FONDEST CHILDHOOD MEMORY: The period that his father spent in jail. Life didn’t get much easier, but at least he was free from the constant abuse for a while. SINGS IN SHOWER?: All the damn time.

#* Exorcist Demonologist and Master of the Dark Arts * ::about::#* My reality is eleven tenths perception. * ::headcanons::#(( relax and work flows just fine. ::queue:: ))

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years ago

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Alice of Human Sacrifice

[Tour]

title has absolutely nothing to do with the fic, i just listened to the song again and thought it sounded cool

Tw: Suicidal thoughts, skin picking

———————

Howard found her collapsed on the ground, face-down, like the dead bodies in those forensic shows Bessie liked to watch. She was bent in the way the bodies usually were, too, with her arms crooked and elbows pointing out, and her knees at an awkward angle. And, also like those bodies, she wasn’t moving at all.

She could leave. Howard has just come back into the theater for the book she had forgotten. She could leave and pretend she hadn’t seen anything. This was not her problem.

And yet, she was stepping forward from the hallway and into the cluttered dressing room.

She kept telling her, what if this was her on the floor? She would want someone to help her. She wouldn’t want to be left all alone with whatever ailment had caused her to blackout in the first place.

“Joan?” She called out.

The girl on the floor didn’t budge.

Howard crouched down next to her and gently nudged her arm.

“Joan. Are you there? Can you hear me?”

Nothing.

Howard pursed her lips. Carefully, she rolled Joan onto her back.

Joan wasn’t as filled out as she used to be. Even in her past life, Joan was thin, but at least her face wasn’t as lean as it was now, with sharp jawbones and deep hollows under her eyes. She looked so frail, sickly even, as Anne had once said. While unconscious, that comment seemed so much more accurate.

Joan did look ill. She was paler than usual, making the bags under her eyes and the flush on her nose and cheeks appear even darker. A slight fever was lit beneath her skin when Howard felt her forehead.

That contact was what finally roused her.

“Joan?” Howard peered down at the icy blue eyes peeking out from behind fluttering eyelids. “Joan, it’s Katherine. Are you alright?”

Joan mumbled something incomprehensible. Her head lolled across the ground as she blearily stared up at the ceiling. She still didn’t appear all that there.

“Joan.” Howard shook her slightly. “Come on, Joan. Wake up.”

“...c-can’t...”

It was such a weak, pathetic reply that Howard couldn’t even muster up the effort to be annoyed. The girl below her was just so damn pitiful. She couldn’t snap at her when she was being looked at with those big, dumb eyes.

“I-I’m sorry...” Joan croaked.

Her eyes then rolled to the back of her head and she once again fell into a pit of unconsciousness.

Just leave her. A crueler, more repressed side of Howard whispered. She isn’t your problem.

She hates how she considers it. But it was true. As pitiful as she was, Joan wasn’t anyone close to her. She didn’t care about her like she cared about the other queens or Bessie. She wasn’t anyone’s special to her.

So why was she picking Joan up? Why was she carrying her to her car and carefully putting her in the back seat? Why was she putting herself through the hassle of going to the hospital? And why did she care?

———

Hiding her problems from the others was easier than she expected it to be.

She thinks, as some point, that they did their best to make her feel included and a part of the group, but they’ve given up since then. They’ve marked her as a lost cause and have moved on. And Joan doesn’t blame them.

She was falling deeper and deeper into depression as the days went by.

She can’t remember when it started, she just knows it came about from lack of attention and lack of love and lack of friendship and lack of everything. And that was pathetic.

Above all else, she seeked the approval of others. Why couldn’t she function without it? Why has she turned into such a mess?

What’s happening to her?

She stopped eating awhile ago. The hunger pains are awful, but at least nobody paid enough attention to her to hear the desperate growls of her stomach. Sleep went next, and then speaking to others, and then water.

On top of depriving her body of all of its basic needs, she’s taken to overworking herself after practice or shows were over. She’d tell everyone that she’s just staying to work on new songs or mixes, and it’s not like they think much of it or care, but she’s constantly pushing herself to the point where she can’t breathe during a simple rehearsal of No Way.

(Let’s see if you can hold your breath for the entirety of All You Wanna Do, Her mind will sometimes whisper.)

Another nasty habit that had come back was her skin picking. Picking wasn’t an act of needing attention, like she knew she would be accused of if people found out, it was more of an act to get adrenaline, to escape the constant pain and anxiety that thrummed through her body on the daily. Letting her fingernails carve off pieces of her skin, scratching away the dead, bad parts of her, deeper and deeper each time, just released the most amazing endorphins that she couldn’t even begin to explain. It was like she was floating. And it was the only thing that made her slightly happy anymore, as disgusting as that may have seemed.

She soon created a ritual for herself. After working her body to almost complete fatigue, she would stand in front of her mirror, take off her shirt, and stare at her body. She would name the few things that she had started to like in her head then list all of the bad things she needed to get rid of.

Disgusting.

Freak.

Outcast.

Pathetic.

Words would swim through her head, blinding her by the intensity of the emotion in those words. These were words that she saw some fans write on posts she would make, whether they be piano covers or, more embarrassingly, song covers. Those always got the most backlash- “u sound like shit” “why are you even trying? You’ll never be as good as the queens�� “Are you trying to one-up the queens?” “Why are you singing Katherine’s song? That’s so rude!! It’s not about you!! You’re awful!” “my ears are bleeding!!!!��- and everything that was said piled up in her head, even after she frantically deleted the posts.

It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the positive comments when they came about, they brought tears to her eyes by the sincerity in them. But those dozens of people who hated her... She just couldn’t take it. It’s helped drive her down a terrible path of destruction that she can’t seem to get off. All she ever wanted was to prove to the queens and other ladies that she was worthy of their attention, their love, their praises. But now she’s turned herself into some self destructive freak that will never, ever be loved.

Still, she wonders why someone is touching her. And carrying her.

She can feel their arms supporting her and she leaned into their warmth. She wanted to call out to them, to thank them, to beg them to never let her go, but she can’t speak and blackness is starting to encompass the little vision she has left...

———

Howard doesn’t know how long she waits in the lobby of the A and E, but it’s definitely long enough for the man sitting to her far left to stop bleeding from the large gash on his arm and consider just leaving. He doesn’t, although Howard can see her weigh out the options in his eyes.

There’s other people in pretty rough shape in there- a sick young man in the corner looking like he regretted every decision he’s ever made in his entire life; a teenager who /didn’t/ regret every decision he’s ever made in his entire life, but definitely wished he didn’t go with a stick-and-poke method of getting a tattoo; a quiet-looking girl who stared at the white walls around her with wide eyes and also had her right arm horribly limp at her side; someone whose jaw was unhinged like a snake...there were enough characters in this place to make an entire circus.

Eventually, she was called, so she scooped Joan up from where she had her slumped in the chair beside her and followed the nurse into the back. Then, after Joan is set up in one of the rooms, it’s back to waiting.

She was /really/ starting to wish she had just left Joan. This was ridiculous!

A buzz snapped Howard out of her trance. She blinked and squinted at her phone, which she had been mindlessly scrolling through, and saw that she had gotten a text from Anne on the group chat they were in with the other queens.

Anne: where r u?

She had completely forgotten to tell the others about her impromptu caretaker status.

Katherine: Passcode question: What’s my favourite drink?

What? She may as well TRY to entertain herself while she’s sitting here rotting away.

Anne: come on, kit, i gave u the code this morning. i don’t think the answer has changed in the twelve hours since we spoke.

Anna: is this just a thing you two do???? i’ve never gotten a passcode before

Katherine: Passcode question: What’s my favourite drink?

Anne: fine!

Anne: raspberry tea with lemon

Anne: happy?

Katherine: Very.

Katherine: I’m at the A and E.

Anne: WHAT

Aragon: What happened?

Jane: Are you alright?!

Anna: woah woah woah are you okay?!?!

Cathy: Are you okay?

Anne: KAT ANSWER US NOW

Howard smiled to herself. It was nice to have people that cared so much about her.

Katherine: Calm down, I’m fine! I just had to take Joan and now I have to stay here until she’s done being examined or something. I found her collapsed on the floor.

There was a momentary pause from all parties.

Aragon: Oh dear.

Jane: Poor Kitty. Having to stay in such a place for so long. Hopefully you can leave soon!

Anna: oh that kinda sucks. having to stay awhile. they take FOREVER.

Anne: what if i came and picked u up? i can smuggle u out so u don’t have to stay!!

Howard blinked. How weird. None of them seemed to be worried about Joan at all.

Katherine: What about Joan?

Anne: what about her?

She toiled over the option in her head- finally going home would be nice. She was quite hungry and had been looking forward to the weekly movie night that night. It was her turn to pick!

But she couldn’t leave. She had already given the hospital all her information, so they’d probably find a way to drag her back. And she couldn’t leave Joan.

Katherine: As much as I want to, I can’t.

Anne: hm. suit urself.

It was at that moment when Howard’s name was called. She tucked her phone away and got up to meet the nurse standing at the back doorway.

“Joan is stable,” The nurse explained after they took a peek into the room the music director was being kept in. Joan somehow looked even more vulnerable in a hospital bed, caught in a tangle of wires and tubes. “We have her on fluids right now so she’ll get rehydrated. She’ll be able to leave soon.”

Howard nodded, her heart leaping with relief. However, it was stamped back down when the nurse went on speaking.

“But she will need to be taken home and watched over.” The nurse said. She looked Howard up and down. “You said you were a coworker, yes? Do you know if any of her family members are willing to come get her?”

“Oh, uhh...” Howard had no idea how to explain that she and Joan both were actually reincarnated beings from the 1500s and not just some people who happen to have the same names as the past queen of England and a lady in waiting. “It’s not really the best situation...”

“Ah,” The nurse nodded, seemingly buying the excuse, which wasn’t exactly a lie. “I see. Well, does she have any friends?”

Howard struggled not to grimace, but the nurse seemed to notice.

“What about you? Can you take her?”

“Me?” Howard blinked. “Well-“

“She won’t be able to leave until someone picks her up,” The nurse continued. “We’ll have to keep her here until we know someone can watch over her for a few days.”

Howard bit her lip. If the nurse was trying to guilt her into taking care of Joan, then it was definitely working.

She sighed. “Alright. I’ll do it.”

———

Joan’s apartment was exactly what Howard was expecting- bare, cold, and empty, aside from all the necessities. There were no potted plants or decorations or photos. The walls were just plain cream against regular pieces of furniture. Dreary grey and ugly brown and plain white splattered the flat, which almost seemed more like a cell.

No wonder Joan was so miserable.

“W-well, umm...” Joan looked very anxious- it’s the only expression that’s been on her face since she woke up in the hospital. “I-I could- y-you- umm...”

It was so sad. How could someone be so nervous all the time? Surely it wasn’t healthy.

“Just sit down, dear,” Howard pressed Joan down onto the couch. “I’m going to take care of you, so there’s no need to stress yourself out.”

“There’s every reason to be stressed,” Joan mumbled, worriedly wringing her hands in her shirt. “I— I should make you something to eat!”

She’s on her feet in an instant, instantly wobbling treacherously on her weak legs. Howard lunged out and steadied her.

“Woah there!” She said. “Joan, take it easy. You’re not well.”

“But you need to eat,” Joan reprimanded. “A-and so do I...”

“Then I’ll cook for you.”

“N-no,” Joan whispered softly. “No, Katherine, p-please- I need to do this. I need to be useful.”

Howard frowned, then sighed. “Alright.”

They soon got to work. As they did so, Howard noticed Joan loosen up a little. Despite the girl looking completely exhausted, she seemed to be slightly more happy than she was before, relaxed with the presence of another person.

“So...” Howard started awkwardly. She didn’t know what to talk about with this girl. “How have you, uhh...been?”

“Fins... WELL.”

Words more or less began to fly from Joan’s mouth like uncovered popcorn on a hot surface. It seemed like she had been bottling up a lot, or maybe she was just afraid of not getting to talk fully if she didn’t speak fast enough.

Poor kid, Howard thought, She must be so lonely.

“Yesterday was shit.” Joan spit, and Howard was slightly stunned to hear the usually very timid and quiet girl swear, “I fucked up another thing at work because I’ve been so drowsy and the stage manager said it was okay pretty much only because he understood that this was a—“ She paused to do air quotes with her fingers. “—‘rough time' for me. And I thought that was literally the stupidest understatement I've ever heard so I was thinking about it all day and getting really mad and then, like, out of nowhere I thought, dude, it IS a fucking rough time for me, and I decided to do something nice and fun and go out and buy groceries like my—“ She paused again to do quotation marks again, although, this time, it made the statement being quoted a little more sketchy, “—‘therapist’ said I should, but then I accidentally told the cashier that I loved her instead of saying thank you and now I’m never going back there ever again, and than I started thinking about THAT all day and then, well— I guess I passed out? Because you found me...and helped me... Oh, thanks, by the way! I, ahh, honestly thought you would have left me. But you didn’t! So yay! Thank you! Also, do you like oatmeal?”

Everything came at Howard so fast her mind had to scramble to process everything.

The first thing that registered in her mind, however, was Joan’s final comment- about her not leaving her. A feeling of guilt welled up inside of her.

But then Joan flashed a rare grin at her and she couldn’t help but smile as well.

In stark contrast to the (relatively) sharply-dressed girl the woman met a year ago, Joan was dressed in baggy sweatpants and an even baggier shirt with the words “Trust me, I’m a doctor” and a picture of a plague doctor on it, which has been the clothes she had found her unconscious in. The head poking out at the top had hair that was sticking out in all directions. It made her look smaller and lankier than she was. Younger, too. Sometimes Howard had a hard time believing she was college aged.

The sight made Howard’s heart ache in realization because it was a reminder of how unfair everything she’d gone through was. It wasn’t until that moment that she really remembered that Joan had watched her die.

“That’s a lot,” Howard finally said, then glanced over at the pot bubbling on the stove. “So...oatmeal?”

“Aaaaand cinnamon toast!”

“You’ve got everything sorted out, huh?”

“Pretty sure,” Joan said, “I’ve, umm...kinda been thinking about what I’d want to eat if friends were ever over.” She blushed shyly, messing with the hem of her shirt.

Once again, Howard’s heart ached.

How long has this girl been alone...?

“Wanna help with the toast?”

“Y’know, I make a pretty mean cinnamon toast.”

A crooked grin replaced the plaintive look Joan had been wearing, and she turned around to pick up a loaf of bread. “You know I’m not gonna believe that until I taste it, right?”

“Heh. Guess I’d better back up the claim, then.”

Joan beamed magnanimously and handed Howard the loaf, which she set down on a nearby cutting board. With a rumbly clearing of the throat, Howard pushed her sleeves up and rubbed her hands together.

“Alright. Melt a little butter in the microwave and grab that cinnamon I see over there. If I’m gonna make this bread, I’m gonna do it right.”

“Yes ma’am!”

They set to work with a bustle as Howard cut the bread and Joan retrieved the necessary ingredients and dropped them on the counter next to her, pausing every so often to check on the oatmeal bubbling on the stove.

“Hey, you mind if I unmute the TV or put on some music or something? I need some background noise.” Joan said after a while, nodding in the direction of the radio on the counter and then glancing momentarily at the TV.

“Sure,” Howard said, “Just keep it down so we don’t disturb the neighbors. And none of that skippity-bop or whatever it is you kids listen to. I don’t have the stomach for that.”

She was teasing Joan by acting older than she actually was, and the sickened look the girl gave her was completely worth it. Howard bursted into laughter.

“It’s called hip hop , Howard. God. I know you aren’t THAT old! What are you, twenty-two?”

“You are now my new favorite.”

Joan beamed at that then padded over to the radio. She began tuning it to different kinds of music stations until a thumping electric beat started to pulse in the air.

“You want the neighbors to think you’re holding a dance party or something?”

“Maybe I do!”

Howard chuckled. “Can you grab a tray I can stick these on?”

“Yeah!”

Joan bent down to retrieve a baking tray from the clutter of pans in a lower drawer, and by the time she’d straightened up, she already had another idea.

“Oh man! You know what’d be great? I have about five billion kinds of lettuce in the fridge because I was dumb and went shopping while I was hungry the other day. We should have a salad! Caesar! With croutons and crap!”

“You can leave the crap off of mine, thanks.”

“You know what I mean,” Joan hissed playfully. “Here’s the tray. I’ll go start watching the lettuce!”

Joan threw open the fridge and leaned in, gathering armfuls of vegetables. Howard watched this with a fond shake of the head before returning to her own task. It sent a pang through her chest, brushing the butter and sugar and cinnamon across the fluffy bread like she vaguely had all those centuries ago, before her life turned into a spiral of unwanted sex and grabbing hands and unreceived loads of semen...but it wasn’t so bad. Being in a bright kitchen and listening to music she’d never willingly put on of her own volition was miles better than trying to do the same thing in her own one. She had the queens now, too. She wasn’t alone. And, with Joan around and doing this with her...Howard felt like a mother.

A timer buzzed and she sidled over herself, seeing as Joan was already occupied. When she stood straight again after sliding the pan of bread into its place, she wiped the sweat from her brow and looked back over to her young chef companion— only to find her rocking and head-bobbing in place as she shredded lettuce with her bare hands, tossing it into the bowl in time to the punchy music on the radio. Howard found herself shaking her head again, this time in amusement.

“Glad you’re happier than you were when we first got here.”

(It wasn’t just when she found her- Joan always looked like she had been hit by a truck with acid wheels, her remains were burned by a flamethrower, and then she was poorly put back together.)

“Mm,” Joan replied distractedly, snapping her fingers jauntily to the tune. “I'm not, actually. I’m just kinda faking it ‘till I make it. You know?”

“Oh,” Said Howard, suddenly feeling very worried. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“S’okay. Means I’m doing it right.”

Before Howard had a chance to ask if she was okay with her Mummy Voice, as Bessie has dubbed it, the song on the radio changed and Joan’s eyes lit up.

“Oh man! I love this song!”

She flung the last of the lettuce leaves into the bowl and started to dance even more enthusiastically (and goofily), pumping her fists in the air.

“Wait, don’t tell me this is-“

“It’s Smash Mouth! The ballad of the 90s! Shrek’s theme song! You’ve seen Shrek, Bessie said she made you watch it with her last month. C’mon, dance with me!"

The worry quickly became a mixture of exasperation and amusement.

“Joan, I don’t think-”

“Come on! You dance all the time in the show! And you don’t have to break a hip or anything, just move around a little! It’s impossible to be completely bummed when you’re dancing.”

Howard closed her eyes and sighed deeply. Then started to slowly step side to side.

“—Aw man, NO. Is that the Carlton? NO.”

“Hey, you whelp, don't make fun. There is NOTHING wrong with the Carlton."

“NOPE. Not allowed! Jazz it up a lil!”

Finally succumbing to deep laughter, the queen found herself picking up her feet and turning in place. And, as an afterthought, even threw in some jazz hands.

After all, what could it hurt?

40 notes · View notes

mylovelyfandoms · 5 years ago

Text

Seungcheol’s Backstory

The symbol of the Sun

Basic information

A/N: This turned out being a lot darker than I originally planned

Warngings: Angsty background story, talk about killing babies, violence, death, suicide, use of ‘?!’, just be careful if these things trigger you

(GIF not mine)

- When Seungcheol was born, the world was already familiar with the affected

- His parents were one of the unfortunate few that were disgusted by them

- Well, more so that they were scared

- To them, Seungcheol was nothing more than an accident that they would have to deal with

- When he was born, they hoped desperately that he was a part of the unaffected

- So, one day, when his parents left him inside the living room

- They were watching from behind him

- Their dog ran up to him wanting to play

- So the second that Seungcheol stuck out his hand and his hand started to glow, his parents knew what he was

- For a moment, they were paralyzed in fear and watched as he became more and more interested in what he was doing

- He joyfully moved around his hand and watched as the dog obeyed his every command

- But then, Seungcheol made a grabbing motion, and the dog started to choke

- Curious and confused, he kept opened and closing his hand, observing every choked out reaction from the dog

- It was then that his parents grabbed him and took him away from the poor pup

- Stricken with fear and hatred for the child they had birthed, Seungcheol’s mother laid him down on the countertop

- “You don’t have to do this.” His father said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I will.”

- As Seungcheol’s mother looked away, his father grabbed one of the kitchen knives and held it above the baby in front of him

- Although Seungcheol didn’t quite understand what was going on, he started to cry

- He reached out his hand and his palm started to glow, making his father gasp in fear

- In one motion, Seungcheol’s father plunged the knife down to his son’s throat, only to have it stop as the tip was about to touch down

- Seungcheol wailed and waved his arm, having his father’s hand following and tossing the knife aside

- The baby was scared and just wanted his dad to pick him up

- So, Seungcheol reached out and made grabbing hands

- His father brought his hand to his throat with wide eyes, trying to gasp for air

- His mother heard and turned around from where she was standing, running over to her husband

- The image of fear and disgust on his mother’s face would scar him for life

- After a couple of minutes, his father’s body went limp and fell to the floor

- His mother sobbed, clutching onto her husband’s lifeless body

- She grabbed her phone and called the facility’s hotline, begging for them to take him away

- Once she hung up, she grabbed the knife from where it was discarded and plunged it into her chest

- Seungcheol screamed and wailed as she fell to the floor, still not quite understanding what was happening

- Almost an hour later, soldiers broke down the door with guns in their hands

- They found the crying baby in the kitchen and the bodies that were on the floor

- Seungcheol was taken to one of the most secured facilities there was

- The soldiers gave him leather gloves to block the glow that connected the victim to his power

- He grew up being tested on with needles and behavior tests and injections and such

- If he disobeyed, he would get brutally beaten

- The soldiers enjoyed watching such a powerful being cowering at their mercy, so they never held back

- They let their fear of the affected turn into hatred and disgust, much like Seungcheol’s parents

- They would constantly remind him of what he did to his parents and belittle him

- When he turned five, he finally got the sun tattoo on his neck, where it could be visible to everyone

- He was ashamed of the mark and tried to do whatever he could to cover it

- But that was also when the soldiers decided to put him to use and started training him to watch over the other affected as they worked

- He would watch over a certain section of the affected for a certain amount of days and use his body manipulation if it was needed

- He knew everything about everyone and everyone knew about him

- Eventually, he started to suppress his anger out of spite, not letting the soldiers get the satisfaction of punishing him

- He became cold and hardened

- Any hope he had had about getting out of the facility faded into nothing as time went by

- There was nothing for him

- Until, one day while he was guarding the stars, he saw the soldiers picking on a particular one

- He didn’t know what it was about this particular star, but there was something about the abuse that the soldiers were inflicting on the star that caused Seungcheol to snap

- He ripped his gloves off and brought his hands out causing gasps of fear to sound all around the room

- Seungcheol’s palm started to glow as he brought the soldier away from the star who was watching with a mixture of disbelief and confusion

- The soldier started to try and fight back, but Seungcheol’s hold was too strong

- Seungcheol brought the soldier’s hands to his belt and grabbed the baton that was used to beat the affected and swung it around at all of the soldiers.

- All of his pent up anger, all of his hatred, it all came out

- He beat the soldiers with their colleague’s hand until a soldier stuck a sedative into his neck

- The glow in his palm faded and his body went limp

- The soldiers took him away and brought him into an empty room

- It was then that they decided that putting him in a straight jacket was the best idea

- He was kept in isolation for a month, the only people that he saw were the soldiers walking in to toss him a tray of food and water

- They made sure to give him a quick beating as they came in and out

- After a month was over, he was able to go back to work, looking over all of the other affected

- On the second week of his punishment being over, he leaned against a wall and watched over the stars as they cleaned and mopped the floors

- kinda like that scene in Avatar when zuko and sokka were plotting with suki at the boiling rock place

- The star that he had defended came up next to him with a mop in his hands

- “Hey.”

- Seungcheol just stared at him in shock

- His entire life, the only people that spoke to him were the workers, and that was only to give him directions or yell at him or something

- The other affected were too scared to say a single word to him, so he didn’t know what to say when one finally did

- The star’s face was blank and his voice was forced, as if he was only doing it as obligation

- “I just wanted to uh...say thank you.”

- The star paused, trying to watch for Seungcheol’s reactions

- When Seungcheol didn’t respond, the star looked down at his mop as he worked and continued speaking

- “For you know...that time.”

- Seungcheol didn’t know what to say, he had a reputation amongst the affected so no matter how much he craved for friendship, he didn’t want to show weakness.

- If he showed weakness, he wouldn’t survive in there

- So instead, he gave the star a short nod and a grunt, crossing his arms and looking to the side

- The star just scoffed at the obvious facade and walked away

- Then, another taller star came over with his mop

- “Hello”

- His tone was light, different than the previous one

- “What do they call you?”

- Seungcheol shifted in his spot

- “You can just say it,” The star coaxed. “You don’t have to be nervous.”

- At his words, Seungcheol snapped his head to the person standing in front of him

- Being nervous was a sign of weakness

- The star let out a soft chuckle and pulled the collar of his uniform down to show the letters ‘ES’ next to a star on his collarbone

- “I can smell it”

- The star let go of his collar and offered a hand

- “They call me Hoshi. I heard your name is Seungcheol, is that true?”

- The name sounded foreign on the boy’s tongue. It wasn’t spat out like the soldiers had

- It was almost friendly...and Seungcheol hated that

- He hated that the name his parents gave him could sound so...nice

- He looked away and the star dropped his hand

- “It’s S. Coups.”

- It was a name Seungcheol had made for himself a while ago...he had never actually used it until now

- The boy’s cracked lips formed a small smile

- “What is that, French?”

- Seungcheol let out another grunt

- “Don’t be embarrassed.”

- Seungcheol snapped his head back to the boy with a chilling glare.

- He didn’t like that this boy could read him better than he could read himself. He hated how transparent it made him seem.

- So, he used the knowledge that he had on everybody against him

- “Kwon Soonyoung,” He stated simply, enjoying the way that the emotion drained out of the boy’s face.

- “W-what?”

- “That’s your name isn’t it?”

- The boy gulped, obviously taken aback by the sound of his name

- Before Hoshi could say anything, the star from earlier stepped in between the two

- “His name is Hoshi, just like yours is S. Coups.”

- Seungcheol stared at the shorter boy with furrowed eyebrows

- "Come on, Hosh, I told you this was a bad idea.”

- The shorter boy led Hoshi away from Seungcheol, who stood with a confused look

- When he saw the soldiers walk by, he immediately straightened up and regained his composure, backing up to lean against the wall again

- The next day, Hoshi approached Seungcheol again

- “Hey, S. Coups.”

- Seungcheol furrowed his eyebrows

- Why is he still talking to me?

- “How’d you sleep?” Hoshi asked

- Instead of answering, Seungcheol just looked away with a set jaw

- Why would anyone want to talk to me? I’m a monster. A cold blooded killer. He’s just trying to get something out of me like leniency on punishments or something...

- Day after day, Hoshi would come by and greet Seungcheol, attempting to make some for of small talk

- Most days, Seungcheol would ignore him

- But as time went by, he started to respond more and more until they were having a full conversation

- Hoshi introduced Seungcheol to the star that he had defended

- Of course, Seungcheol had known his name from the beginning, but didn’t exactly care to remember

- So, when he introduced himself as Woozi, an ‘I star’, Seungcheol didn’t say anything against it

- Eventually, the three became friends and Seungcheol finally had a reason to get out of his cell

- One day, at meal time, Seungcheol was walking up and down the aisles as the Lightnings, Raindrops, and Stars were eating as his usual job was

- Whenever he walked by Hoshi and Woozi, they would exchange small smiles and the two would sneak Seungcheol some food since they knew he wouldn’t be eating for a while

- As Seungcheol walked back around to the beginning of their aisle, Hoshi stood up to discard his tray

- As he turned to go back to his seat, Hoshi bumped into a soldier, having the blood drain from his face

- Seungcheol watched as the soldier bunched up the front of Hoshi’s shirt and said a few words before bringing his fist up to punch his face

- Tugging at his gloves, Seungcheol started walking towards the soldier and his friend, only to have a hand on his arm pull him back

- Reflexively pulling his arm away from his captor’s hold, Seungcheol turned to see Woozi shaking his head

- “You’ll make it worse.”

- Seungcheol looked back at Hoshi and saw the soldier dragging him away as he struggled to get out of the soldier’s hold

- “Then what do you suggest we do?!”

- Woozi looked around and leaned closer, speaking in a low voice

- “Meet me in that corner-” Woozi nodded his head to a relatively vacant corner in the room- “at 2 am. If we stay along that wall, we shouldn’t be seen by the soldiers that are patrolling around. I have a plan.”

- The beginning of that night, Seungcheol didn’t know how he was going to get out of his straight jacket, let alone his cell

- He knew that there were two guards standing outside his door, even if he couldn’t see them

- Seungcheol peered outside of the small window on the door and squinted to look at the clock

- It was 1:45, and finally time for Seungcheol to set his plan in motion

- He pressed his head against the door and knocked on it a couple of times, signalling for the guards outside

- “What do you want?” One of the soldiers snapped

- “Bathroom.”

- “Away from the door.”

- As protocol, Seungcheol took three large steps away from the door

- Once he stopped, the soldiers both walked in with the key to unlock the buckles for the straight jacket

- When one of them unlocked the jacket, the other grabbed onto his wrists

- In a quick movement, Seungcheol kicked the guard that was unlocking him out of the way and snatched his hands from the one holding his wrist

- Before they could react, Seungcheol tore his gloves off and turned to the two guards, sticking his hands out

- He started to use his power and slowly closed his hand, closing both of their throats along with it

- “You two are going to let me out of here, and I’m going to let you live. If you try anything when I let go, then I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

- Quickly, the two guards nodded and Seungcheol let go of them, grabbing his gloves and slowly backing away

- When he was out of the room, Seungcheol closed the door to his cell and ran out of the building.

- He made his way towards the dining hall and stepped in as quietly as he could

- Seungcheol creeped along the wall until he found Woozi standing tight against the corner

- “What are we doing?” Seungcheol whispered

- “Shh”

- Woozi grabbed onto Seungcheol’s wrist and led him along the wall

- They went all around the facility, pressing against the wall when soldiers were near

- Eventually, they were outside of the facility and ducked down by a tree

- “I don’t get it, what are we doing here?”

- Woozi reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle and a pack of matches

- “Where’d you get those from?”

- “Everyone around here’s some kind of crook. I traded the matches with some healer after I taught them how to read. And I got this off of a water elemental after she swiped it from a soldier. It’s some sort of alcoholic drink”

- “And why do we need them?”

- Woozi started to pour the alcohol along the tree and got the matches

- “Once we make this diversion, we’re going to run over there-” Woozi pointed to one of the buildings that Seungcheol had never been inside of- “and get Hoshi out. Then, we’ll go to the front and you’ll manipulate the workers to let us out.”

- With the lighting of the match, the plan was set into motion

- Once the tree was caught on fire, Woozi grabbed Seungcheol’s arm and ran towards the building

- The soldiers saw the fire and immediately started to look through the elementals’ cells to see if a fire elemental got out

- Since the majority of the soldiers were called to investigate the fire, Woozi and Seungcheol were able to slip into the building

- “How are we going to find Hoshi in the dark?” Seungcheol hissed

- Just then, an agonizing scream filled the room

- “That’s Hoshi”

- Woozi led Seungcheol to one of the doors and rattled at the door nob

- Since it was locked, Woozi grabbed a bobby pin from his shirt and started to pick at the lock

- When it finally clicked open, Woozi swung the door open and the two were immediately met with a foul smell

- “Oh, that’s horrible”

- “Imagine how Hoshi feels”

- The moonlight crept in and the pair saw Hoshi cowering in the corner with his hands chained to the walls. He had a pair of headphones on his head and a band wrapped around it to keep him from taking it off

- Every now and then, he let out a whimper or a yell, thrashing around and tugging at his chains

- Woozi crouched down to him and put a hand on his shoulder, making gasp Hoshi gasp and thrash around more

- Seungcheol took the band and headphones off of his head, making his sigh in relief

- “W-Woozi, is that you?”

- Woozi started to pick the lock of the shackles, “Yeah, Hosh. Me and S. Coups, we’re here.”

- “Get...get me out of here.”

- Hoshi’s tone was shaky and scared, nothing like Seungcheol had ever heard before. It broke his heart

- “Come on, we’ve got you,” Seungcheol said as he swung Hoshi’s free arm over his shoulders and waited for Woozi to get the other one

- “I smell smoke, what happened?”

- “The plan, we’re getting out of here”

- Once Hoshi was free, the three ran out of the building, listening to Hoshi every time that he said someone was near

- Soon, they got to the gates of the facility

- Hoshi and Woozi stood flat against the wall and sent Seungcheol into the control room

- Once the soldier in there saw him, he turned in a panic

- “What are you doing out of your cell?”

- Seungcheol smirked and stuck his hand out, palm glowing

- He had a strong hold over the soldier’s body as the man weakly struggled

- Seungcheol manipulated the soldier’s arm and brought him to the control panel

- “Now, why don’t you tell me how to get out of here? And no funny business or I’ll squeeze your heart until it bursts.”

- The soldier shakily gave Seungcheol the code for him to make the soldier press, and even used the soldier’s thumb for the finger print ID

- When the gate started to open, Seungcheol let go of the soldier, sprinting out of the control room

- “Let’s go!”

- The three of the ran out, laughing at the feeling of their freedom

- They ran for days, trying to get as far away from the facility as possible

- Woozi found a map and somehow managed to find out where they were and where they should go

- After a couple days of travelling, they finally stopped at a campsite, taking turns to keep lookout while the others slept

- Eventually, as they walked on, they came across a clan called Bangtan Sonyeondan

- At first, the three of them were suspicious of the people in the clans, but soon, they started to get to know the people and leaders

- It was only when Seungcheol finally spoke to the leader of the clan, Namjoon who was an ‘I Star’, did he understand the purpose of a clan

- When the three left the ‘BTS’ clan, they agreed that they would start their own and rescue some of the affected from the facilities nearby

- Seungcheol would sneak into the facilities and find the people who had it the worst (the people who were punished the most and the ones kept in isolation or labs)

- If he ever got caught, he would do whatever he could to get away, no matter how brutal

- All of the abuse that the soldiers brought on him, he brought it back and worse.

- Woozi and Hoshi would stay close by

- Hoshi would listen in to the soldiers, making sure that no one had made Seungcheol

- Eventually, Seungcheol ended up rescuing more and more of the affected

- As time went by, a couple more wandered towards them, claiming that they were looking for shelter and safety

- Seungcheol soon became the most feared and dangerous leader of the clans, with Woozi and Hoshi as subleaders

- He showed no mercy when someone endangered his clan or if a soldier managed to find them

- He wore his gloves around the clan, just to assure them that he was on their side and meant no harm to them

- Most of the people who joined the clan had a place that they were headed

- So, Seungcheol let them stay with his clan where it was safe until they could go

- Though, there were ten boys (other than the three leaders) that had no where else to go

- Seungcheol took them in and allowed them to become council members, being the only official members of the clan

- And thus, in honor of the day that Seungcheol, Woozi, and Hoshi left the facility, their clan was called ‘Seventeen’

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shadowphoenixrider · 4 years ago

Text

(Wrote this on a bit of whim. It’s some Katla/Nanu stuff as part of the OT4, and canon to their story. I’ve been more laissez faire with the games. Hope you enjoy!)

No secrets between us, Katla thought as she lingered at the doorway, watching the scene before her.

Kahuna Nanu had stretched his long body out along his blue couch, focused entirely on the tricks he was performing on his kendama, and not on the Alolan Meowth scattered about him - such as the three staring at the red ball, one slightly crouched as if debating whether to swat it.

It was a peaceful scene, and not one the trainer wanted to disturb, especially not with the topic she needed to discuss. It was easier to copy the Meowth and watch her lover’s skill instead.

That was until a soft ‘thump’ and the click of claws across a wooden floor drew Katla’s attention to the large Persian padding her way over, her curled tail lifting as she approached.

“Perr~” The Classy Cat announced softly, her headbutt knocking Katla back a step, a guttural purr rumbling out almost as soon as the trainer’s hand sunk into her thick grey coat.

“Hi Perla.” Katla murmured softly, stroking down her muscled back as the feline rubbed past her.

“There a reason you’re hiding back there, Kat?” Nanu asked, the sound of his kendama slowing.

Katla took a breath. You gotta do it. You can’t leave him out of the loop. Perla chirruped, looking up at her expectantly.

“No, not really.” The trainer said, stepping out of the doorway. “Just thinking.”

The kahuna’s red gaze shifted to her as soon as she came into view, Perla padding past her. He said nothing, the only sound being the clack of ball and cup.

“I need to tell you something. From my past.”

Clack.

The silence ticked on for a couple of seconds, his face inscrutable as ever. She would never challenge him to a game of poker.

“You don’t have to listen right now if you don’t want,” she said eventually. “I-I didn’t want to disturb you-”

Nanu sat up, scattering his small feline audience as he swung his legs down and causing a loaf-Meowth further down the couch to glare at him.

“Sit with me, Kat,” he said, although it was more an order than a suggestion.

She felt his stare follow her as she settled next to him. It made her slightly uneasy, and yet it also didn’t. Perhaps it was just a by-product of him being a police officer.

The trainer took a breath. Here we go.

“You know I started out with my Pokemon in Hoenn, right?”

“Yeah. Born in Galar, registered in Hoenn,” he said, winding the string around the kendama’s handle. “I remember.”

Katla smiled briefly - of course he did.

“Great. Uh, I know this is kinda out of left field, but do you remember there being a big storm in Hoenn about ten years ago or so? Had something to do with a Team Aqua?”

Nanu's steady gaze didn’t shift from her, but she did notice a crease appear between his thick eyebrows.

“I remember that name,” he began, sentence hanging for a moment before he looked away. “Some gang of pirates?”

“I guess?” Katla scratched her head. “They certainly dressed the part. But they’d graduated into eco-terrorists when I met them.”

The kahuna’s eyes slid back to her, his eyebrow arching.

“What is it with you kids and taking on criminal gangs that would make most adults think twice? Although,” a smirk pulled at the corner of his lips, “you don’t seem to know what danger is.”

Katla rolled her eyes.

“Ha ha, very funny, Officer.” She blew out a sigh through her nose. “If I’m honest, I would have preferred to avoid them. I was just a little kid on her first adventure with Pokemon, I didn’t need...I didn’t need what came next.”

Her gaze drifted to Perla, now lying on the window sill, oblivious to the two smaller Meowth playfully batting at her hanging tail as it swayed back and forth.

“They said they wanted to expand the oceans to make more homes for water-type Pokemon,” Katla continued, interrupted by an amused snort. “Yeah, that was my reaction too. The oceans are big enough without help. Anyway, in order to do that, they decided to find and awaken Kyogre.”

“It’s been a long time since I last went to Hoenn, but isn’t Kyogre one of the Pokemon deities there?” The kahuna asked, one eyebrow arched.

“Yeah, Kyogre is the God of the Sea.” The trainer sighed. “They thought they could control it. You can imagine how well that went.”

"Hmm.” She felt Nanu’s gaze linger on her. “So, where did you come in?”

Katla managed to suck in a breath, her heart beginning to beat a fast tattoo.

“There is a place called the Cave of Origins, said to be where life began. It contains a power that could cause something called Primal Reversion. Basically, Kyogre went to claim that power and become every bit as much as of a God as the legends make it out to be.” She explained. “The plan was for someone to intercept and defeat it whilst it was still just a powerful Pokemon and not ‘the Almighty’.”

She finally turned to meet Nanu’s eyes. “That someone was me.”

There was a long, long pause.

“An eleven year old girl.” The kahuna spoke slowly. “Hoenn had a Champion back then, didn’t they?”

“Yeah, Steven...Stone? He was there, he helped me get permission to enter the Cave. But I went in alone.”

Nanu said nothing, but she sensed his mood turn in an instant, his jaw tightening and the crease reappearing between his brows. She realized then that she’d never seen Ula’Ula’s kahuna truly angry. Annoyed, irritated and sometimes upset - nothing that held a candle to this. Even the Meowth were now eyeing their patron warily, ears twitching.

She felt uneasy about continuing her story, but they’d gotten this far:

“I...I didn’t make it in time, either. I had front row seats to see Kyogre attain its Primal form.”

Suddenly Nanu was on his feet, striding away with his back straight, sending Meowth skittering away in his wake. Perla lifted her head, her ears folding backwards as she watched her trainer.

The kahuna stared at a point outside, letting the uneasy silence drag on until a single, cold word passed his lips:

“Alone?”

Katla swallowed.

“Yeah. I just had my Pokemon with me. No-one could get to where I was anyway-”

“You shouldn’t have even been there.”

Nanu’s words were fiercely sharp - she had been subject to his taunting barbs during his Grand Trial, but these threatened to draw blood.

He kept his back to her, the only indicators of his expression being his clenched fists and every inch of his full height.

“The Champion - the strongest trainer in Hoenn. But won’t take on a deity Pokemon - instead palms it off on a child. A child that he didn’t even back up.”

There was a sharp intake of breath, his shoulders lifting. One second, two, three, and his breath hissed out again, relaxing. His fists uncurled, fingers flexing. It took another couple of seconds before Nanu could speak again.

“I guess you must’ve won, since you’re here to tell the tale.”

“Yeah.” Katla glanced away, forcing her voice not to peter out into a mumble. “I almost didn’t, though. Primal Kyogre was so powerful, the only reason I managed it is because of Latias. I befriended her when I rescued her from being harassed by Team Aqua thugs, and she joined my team in thanks.”

The trainer took a breath. “When she was Mega Evolved, she was strong enough to at least take a few hits from it. More than what could be said about me.”

Katla shrugged off her black and red jersey, revealing the whorls and stretched scars that patterned her forearms. Time had faded them, but they were still as clear as the day they’d healed.

“Kyogre’s Origin Pulse attack was so powerful that its energy scorched my skin. Most people mistake them for fire burns, but those who specialise in Fire types can tell the difference.”

“I did wonder about them, our first night.” She glanced up to see Nanu standing over her, his expression back to its apathetic default. But his crimson eyes were soft, almost hurt. “Knew better than to ask, though.”

“Thank you.” She ran her hands up her arms, the skin crawling under his gaze. “I would have lied to you anyway.”

“Figured as much.” He dropped to a crouch, studying the marked flesh. “Same as Kabu and his undershirt, then.”

“Kinda. I think that’s more because his scars aren’t pretty, though.” A wry smile pulled at Katla’s lips as the kahuna snorted derisively. “I just...don’t want to answer the awkward questions.”

“Hmm.” His eyes met hers, and it seemed like he wanted to say something, his jaw working. Then he looked back down at her arm. “Uh, they don’t look great - must’ve hurt like hell. You get any pain from them now?”

“Sometimes.” The trainer nodded. “They usually react to powerful or legendary Pokemon.”

“Hm?” Nanu’s eyebrow arched.

“Yeah. When Tapu Bulu appeared in our Grand Trial, I felt my scars tingle. When they use their powers, they tend to hurt.”

The kahuna pulled back slightly.

“Wait. If that’s the case with the Tapu, then the same must have happened with Eternatus.”

“Mmhmm.” Katla nodded. “And the legendary dogs. But Eternatus was the worst. Especially whatever unholy Dynamax it turned into - as soon it started attacking, it was agony.” Her arms prickled at the memory. “I managed to hide it from Hop, but it hurt so much-”

“Hey hey, enough of that.” Nanu rumbled softly, shifting closer, hand hesitantly moving to rest on her shoulder. There was a moment or two of silence before he spoke again: “So. You defeated the God of the Sea with the help of an Eon Pokemon. Now I understand what Kabu meant when he said it wasn’t your first rodeo.”

“He told you?” She looked up at him with alarm.

“No. He let it slip that Eternatus and Zacian weren’t the first legendaries you’d encountered.” The kahuna smirked, rising back up to his relaxed stoop. “Clammed up tighter than a Cloyster and told me it was something I’d have to ask you about.” He tilted his head, smirk becoming a smile. “Figured it was better to let you open up about it on your own time.”

She couldn’t help but smile back.

“Thanks, Nanu. I’ve told him and Stela about what happened, and I couldn’t leave you out of the loop.”

“That’s kind of you, but you didn’t have to,” he said, sitting back down beside her. A Meowth cautiously approached him, sniffing his hand.

“I didn’t want there to be any secrets between us.” The trainer explained. “And mine is...kinda important.”

The small feline purred loudly as Nanu scratched its cheek, its other fellows beginning to cluster around them again.

“I see...” His murmur was so quiet Katla almost missed it. After a long silence, she spoke again:

“So yeah. Eleven years old and I’d fought and beaten a deity Pokemon at full power. And all I got were these lousy scars and nightmares for the rest of my life.” Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Nanu’s expression get decidedly sour. The Meowth hopped down from his lap. “Then I went and became the Champion.”

His gaze snapped to hers, eyebrows arching up almost to his hairline.

“Say again.”

“Several weeks after the Kyogre incident, I challenged the Elite 4 and Steven. And won.”

The kahuna just stared at her, surprise clearly written over his face, yet the trainer had a feeling he was turning things over in his head - he was looking through her, not at her.

“Before you ask, no. I’m not Hoenn’s Champion any more. I gave it up after a while.” She sighed, resting her arms on her knees and staring at her boots. “It was all...all so quick. First Kyogre, then somehow I was the Champ, then the meteor, and it was all so much, too much-”

“Hey. Take it easy.” Nanu spoke, his voice quiet and steady. There was soft ‘shff’ of fabric as he scooted closer. “You weren’t much older, were you?”

“No, still eleven.”

Another breath hissed out of his nose.

“Guessing no-one helped you for those, either.”

“Not... not really.” Katla met the eyes of a particularly petite Meowth that came to sit between her feet. “I mean, Steven was there, but he was more directing me where to go, leaving a list of things I had to do. Not really...doing anything to help.” The Meowth made a sound almost akin to a beep, reaching up to her. The trainer reached down to pet it, making sure to avoid its charm. “The only ‘people’ that helped me were my Pokemon...”

A quietness fell between them, filled only with soft purring and the beginnings of rain on the Police Station roof.

“Kat,” Nanu’s voice was softer than she’d ever heard it, and she glanced up to him. There was a naked vulnerability to his face that made her heart skip in surprise. “You do have parents, right?”

Her brows furrowed for a moment.

“Yeah, I do, I thought I...told you...” She trailed off, hearing the real question underneath it. It took her aback for a moment, taking the Meowth’s insistent headbutt to bring her back.

“I do, I do - they do care for me, a-and they did their best. This- this isn’t one of those stories.” A quick glance at Nanu and the creases deepening in his forehead showed he disagreed. “They love me, they do. They just...I mean, what’s the manual for helping your kid deal with all...all of that?”

He grunted.

“Take your word for it.”

A part of Katla bristled, yet she let the anger ebb. No point quibbling now, after the wounds had been made and healed. Mostly.

“What’s this about a meteor?” He asked, mercifully pivoting away from the previous subject.

“The giant meteor over ten years ago? Was gonna smack into the planet and ruin everyone’s day?” She arched an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, that one.” Nanu leaned back, crossing his legs. His own eyebrow raised in a mirror to hers. “Didn’t know you were involved in that too.”

“Yeah, well.” Katla snorted. “I thought saving the world was kinda a Champion’s job.”

“Can hardly you blame you for thinking otherwise, considering your predecessor.” Nanu drawled. His gaze lingered on her, his eyes twitching slightly back and forth. “Better or worse than Kyogre?”

“Better. I mean, this time the Pokemon wasn’t actively trying to kill me. But it still wanted a Pokemon battle.” She crossed her arms over her knees, watching the Meowth curl around her feet.

“Long story short, apparently this meteor had been foretold by an ancient group of people called the Draconids. They said the only way to stop it was to summon Rayquaza - the Hoenn deity of the Sky - and petition it to destroy it.”

“Wait, how is this different from Team Aqua summoning Kyogre?” Nanu asked. “Maybe they’re asking more politely, but you’re still asking a god to do your bidding.”

“I think the difference is in what was asked of them.” She explained. “That, and Kyogre was asleep.” She arched an eyebrow at the older man. “Sure you can relate to that - woken up in the middle of deep sleep and then just ordered to do something, no ‘please’ or ‘thank you’."

“Yeah. No wonder it acted out.” The older man grumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “Still, what made them so sure Rayquaza would listen to them anyway?”

”According to the legends, it has form - if a prayer to it can be amplified by some powerful artifact or location, it tends to respond. Unlike the other two Hoenn deities, Rayquaza has a closer connection to humanity. Mostly because it seems to be the only Pokemon than can get Groudon and Kyogre to stop fighting each other.”

“Huh.” Nanu leaned back. “Well, considering we’re still here, I’m guessing you succeeded?”

“Pretty much.” Katla nodded. “Got to Sky Pillar, called Rayquaza. It answered, I somehow beat it in a battle and it went and destroyed the meteor. World saved. Again.” She sighed, gaze drifting to where Perla was dozing on the window sill.

“I quit not long after that. People were insisting I stay on, or that they couldn’t believe I wanted to walk away, but...I was a mess. The nightmares, flashbacks, I-I couldn’t even look at dark water without-”

“Hey hey hey.” Nanu murmured, sliding an arm around her shoulders. “You did the right thing. Lot of people talk as if they know your mind better than you do.”

“Yeah. It was as if everything that happened to me wasn’t a big deal or anything.” She leant into him, resting her head against his chest. The slow, comforting boom of his heart was soothing, as was the kahuna’s gentle, almost furtive petting of her hair.

He hummed his agreement, the sound rumbling through his body. A couple of seconds of silence ticked by, the Meowth settling around them before he spoke again.

“I appreciate you opening up about this, Kat. Lot of things make much more sense now.”

A wan smile pulled at her lips.

“Suppose they do.” She looked up at him, her heart skipping a beat when she noticed he was watching her. “Thanks for listening to me vent, too.”

“I meant what I said last time. I’m here for you, just as much as Stela or Kabu.” His gaze was intense, not shifting even for a second. “I like a heads-up when you can give it, but don’t feel like you can’t come to me with things.” He gently brushed a lock of curly hair off her cheek. “I know I’m not the most...easy to get along with. But I care for you, Kat.” He opened his mouth to say more, but closed it again, shaking his head. “Wish you didn’t go through what you did.”

“Thanks.” She replied. “Could have done without the reprise in Galar, but here we are.”

“Mmm.” Nanu hummed, frowning for a moment. “You’ve got some nerve, though, going straight into the fray after all that. I thought you trying to scale Po Town’s walls was reckless enough.”

Katla lifted a shoulder.

“Had to be me. Didn’t want someone else to suffer the same things I went through. Besides,” a smile pulled at her lips, “this time I wasn’t alone. I had Hop with me.”

"And Kabu.” The kahuna murmured.

“Yeah...” She nodded, letting her mind wander back to a different time, a different place. Yet she’d been in much the same position, nestled against the chest of a man she loved as she’d tried to come to terms with what just happened.

“You’re not alone any more.” Nanu spoke, voice rumbling against her. “We won’t let that happen to you again.” His arm tightened around her for just a second.

The sound of the rainstorm filled the silence between them, before a Meowth yowled impatiently.

“Cripes, you can’t be hungry already?” Nanu groaned, answered by chorus of meows and one elegant ‘Perr~’. “Alright, alright. I’m coming, you bottomless pits.” He flashed Katla a weak smile before he got up, somehow managing to summon every Meowth in the station to cluster around his ankles within two steps. Perla joined them, albeit at a more sedate pace, taking the time to stretch luxuriously after descending from her perch.

Left alone for the moment, the trainer leaned back against the couch, letting out a deep breath. Thank Arceus. That went better than I expected.

#SPR writes #pokemon oc: katla #nanu #oc/nanu #katla/nanu #kahuna nanu #nanu pokemon #sprs writing #angst #some canon divergence #if you squint #ot4: shadows and flames #at some point I'll have to title these #but not today!

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fanfic-corner · 4 years ago

Text

Soulmate AU Part 2

Here’s a basic fact you need to know about me: I am very lazy. And I read a lot of soulmate fics. And I started college today, so I’m kinda busy, but also desperate to procrastinate for the first time in 6 months. Anyway, here are the slightly lower-ranking soulmate AU fics that I couldn’t be bothered adding to my last post.

Meant to Bee by violentincest on AO3. (3,823 words).

Tags: Tattoo Artist Dean, Tattooed Castiel, First Meetings, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Fluff and Angst.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: Dean is a tattoo artist, who can remove peoples Soul-mate Marks if they so choose. One day a client comes in wanting his Soul-mate mark removed, and it's just Dean's luck that this man may very well be his mate.

Notes: This was a very interesting idea, but I don’t think it was executed particularly well (that might just be me though).

Puzzle Piece by flannelfeelings on AO3. (571 words).

Tags: Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Drabble, Cutesy, Human Castiel, Domestic, Funny, Lighthearted, Gas-N-Sip, very short, First Meetings, Sassy Castiel, Dean-Centric.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: In a world where your soulmate's first words are imprinted on your forearm at birth, sometimes life can be confusing.Luckily for Dean, it's not very hard to distinguish who his soulmate is.

Notes: Incredibly short but fairly cute and funny - I just wish there was more!

Last Words by Miniatures on AO3. (1,353 words).

Tags: Angst With a Happy Ending, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmate AU, Angst, Romance, I will RIP YOUR HEART OUT and then put it back in.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: He feels Dean’s eyes on him, but he can’t bring himself to meet his brother’s gaze. His mouth is cotton, his chest scraped raw. He draws back his sleeve and stares, breathing ragged, at the sharp black lettering along his forearm—the last words he’ll ever hear his soulmate say."And this is me lying down."

Notes: I know exactly what you’re thinking: well hello, Lucifer, old friend. And you would be absolutely correct. My only problem with it is that it is too short to be executed as well as it deserves, and it feels slightly rushed.

Do You Understand What You Do To Me? by anonymous_dragon on AO3. (1,282 words) .

Tags: Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmate AU, Fluff.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: Sam sees a glimpse of Gabriel’s wings. Gabriel notices. (And he may feel just a tad scared.)

When Sam’s born with a soulmate mark that is random gold squiggles (also known as Enochian) on his hipbone, and Gabriel never bothered to look for his own mark after he left Heaven. (It appeared on May 2nd, 1983.)

Notes: Quite cute, with the added bonus of Gabe being an icon, as usual.

Cas-ti-el by valinde on AO3. (2,647 words).

Tags: Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Pining Dean, Pre-Slash.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: Dean had figured out the problem. The reason no one could translate the name written on his arm was because it wasn't one. It was just a line of meaningless gibberish. He didn't have a match.

Notes: Don’t sue me: I read this late at night and all I wrote was: “Kinda depressing, but we’re all here for some enochian.” Take from that whatever you want.

The Words We Long To Hear by StarlightDragon on AO3.

Tags: Canon-Compliant, Post Series 10, Angst With a Happy Ending, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmate AU, all 10 seasons in 4000 words, Sam’s POV.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: Sam Winchester has known his whole life that the first words his soulmate says to him will be "I've been mopping this floor every day for six years." The guy who says it to him is a janitor, and then he's a Trickster, and then he's an angel, and then he's a Norse god, and Sam's not sure which one of these is the truth - but it's not like it matters, because Sam doesn't believe in soulmates anyway.

Notes: Just in case the tags and the description didn’t give it away, this fic is mostly Sabriel. Not entirely sure who came up with that or why it works, but it kind of does. Worth the rec because it’s pretty cute, and a great way to catch you up all the way to season 10. That being said, massive spoilers if you aren’t up to date.

Watch Your Hands, Watch Your Mouth by RawrSquared on AO3. (2,471 words).

Tags: Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Fluff.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: Sam was just doomed to spend his life with 'Are you fucking sorry?!' marked on his skin. Really, it wasn't fair.As it turns out, the explanation isn't so bad.

Notes: Quite cute and funny, but also mostly Sabriel.

The Mark Is In His Arm by Innwich on AO3. (3,220 words).

Tags: Soulmate AU, Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soul Bond, Self-Harm, Angst.

My Rating: 2 stars.

Description: Dean hated his soulmark. He didn’t know anyone whose mark hurt as bad as his did.

Notes: Not really sure what was going on in this one. The Mark of Cain was Dean’s soulmate? Highly unclear. (I feel like I may have put this in the other post but here it is again).

So, there they are. All the mediocre soulmate related fics. I swear I rate fics more/less than 3 stars occasionally. Promise.

#destiel #sabriel #supernatural #ficrecs #fanfic #soulmarks #soulmate au

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secret-engima · 5 years ago

Note

Braids questions! What do elders do when their hair falls out and they no longer have enough hair for their Clan braids? Do they tattoo the braid on their skin? Wear a wig? Wear a braid of leather/silk (like some padawans in sw do)? At what age do kids start wearing Clan braids regularly? And what happens if someone cuts off their/another’s braids? (What would cause someone to cut their own or another’s braids?)

Ohh good questions! When their hair starts falling out, they prepare an artificial braid made of silk dyed in their personal balance of the Clan colors, with all the beads they earned throughout their lives displayed on it/them (some elders/clans have more than one braid after all.) They start wearing those even before they’ve lost enough hair to not be able to have a “real” braid just to get everyone used to the idea. If I was more creative than I am atm I would probably talk about how the REALLY old elders get to have a fancy, if small, headdress thing out of like- bone and silk and leather braids hanging down that is like a silent display of all their accomplishments in life.

Kids start wearing the Clan braids as soon as they have enough hair to do so without hurting the scalp or whatever, their parent puts it in. As the kid gets older, they are taught by their parent/guardian how to do the braid themselves and what other types of braid there are.

Cutting braids is ... oh boy. OH BOY. *cracks knuckles* HERE WE GO.

The legal version of this is Exile. When someone in the Clan has committed a crime so horrible it will not be borne by other punishments, that member is dragged out before the entire village in undyed leathers (no more Clan colors, no NOTHING), and are both forcibly tattooed somewhere visible on their person with a mark of Exile + a symbol of their crime and then the braids are cut off and thrown into the fire to burn, beads and all. It’s ... it’s basically the most humiliating and horrifying thing that can happen in their culture, barring a few exceptions. Clan braids are, are nigh on sacred. Even ENEMY Clans, if they have any honor, will not try to harm the braids in battle and even when trying to break captives for info they Will. Not. Cut. The Braid.

The braids are ... they’re a symbol. Of family, of connection, of history. That braid is the same style of braid your parents wore, and their grandparents of the Clan wore and so on all the way back to the legendary chiefs and heroes and founders of Galahd (at least according to the story). That braid represents all you Clan history, all your family, all your memories and loved ones in the Clan. Other braids can be added for things like mourning or marriage, for positions like chieftain/chieftess or for special deeds done, but the Clan Braid is the first braid. It is Special. Cutting any braid is seen as assault tantamount to a war crime, but cutting the Clan Braid is cutting off someone from their family, their home, their history, their own NAME. It’s rendering them Nothing™. And yea from an outsider POV that seems very melodramatic but to a culture that is primarily Oral, where symbols are treasured and connections to family prized above all else ... it’s not. It’s really not.

Anyway, let me pause to clarify something that you didn’t: Galahdians know that accidents happen, they know that in a fight, or a hunt, or just a spar gone wrong the braids might get pulled or nicked. It’s horrible yes, but that’s- that’s not the same as CUTTING. Losing half a braid in the heat of battle will win some tears from the person who lost it, but the braid is still partly there, and a leather or silk replacement can be worn until the hair grows back. If the bead is pulled out and the braid comes loose, a replacement bead can be made and the braid woven back in, it’s okay.

Cutting a Braid in the Really Emotional Instances means pulling it tight and shearing it as close to the scalp as possible. It has to be very, very clearly intentional that way and that’s the heartbreaking one. Just getting nicked in battle is ... emotionally not fun, but not “I have been robbed of everything I am” kinda thing. Okay? Okay.

Moving on, to CUT one’s own braid is ... to intentionally exile oneself from the Clan. It’s an action that is usually done in front of witnesses to really count/make a point but can also be done without witnesses. Once it’s done however, it cannot be taken back. That’s it. The individual has cut themselves off from their family, their Clan, and their past. Some even abandon their first name, but all abandon their last name because it is no longer theirs. Reasons for this vary but it is NOT something to be done lightly. It’s ... usually either because the person believes they are no longer deserving of the Clan and are exiling themselves OR the person believes that the Clan itself has somehow betrayed them beyond all reconciliation and are cutting ties to the Clan very literally.

Note that a formally exiled individual (the one who got their braid cut by their Clan and a tattoo of their crime placed somewhere on their person), barring Very Unusual Circumstances, cannot be adopted into any other Clan. Most Clans won’t even talk to the exile of another clan, and even in war, if the Exile tries to sell information about their former Clan, they will be treated very warily and not allowed to join a new Clan.

Clan members who have had their braid cut by a dishonorable enemy as part of torture are not Exiles and will be welcomed back to the Clan with open arms and much mourning on their behalf.

Clan members who cut their own braid and self-exiled usually don’t WANT to join another Clan, at least for a while, but if they prove themselves to another Clan by intent or by accident then it is acceptable for the new Clan to offer to adopt them.

Fun Fact/HC: when Regis first founded the Kingsglaive it was, as a military branch, originally gonna have the “mandatory short haircut” thing. When the Galahdians discovered this, they freaked and were just about ready to RIOT. The recruits who hadn’t realized that “hair cut” meant “CUTTING OFF THE BRAIDS TOO” (they assumed the needed short hair with the EXCEPTION of braids because what are you a monster?) figured it out before any Braids were lost and immediately barricaded themselves in their barracks to Panic™. This caused a lot of annoyance with the sergeants who eventually had to call down the King to personally resolve the matter after more Galahdians heard about it and swarmed over the training grounds ready to Throw Hands.

Regis came down and politely tried to ask the nearest Galahdian why this was such a problem, the Galahdians were all too freaked out and angry to really answer (BECAUSE WHY EVEN ASK, IT’S OBVIOUS??? they think to themselves) and, in a rare moment of Social Awareness, Cor stepped in and gruffly (loudly) stated that FOR INSOMNIANS, hair and braids had no particular cultural meaning, IF THIS WAS NOT THE CASE for Galahdians, SOMEONE please step forward and SAY SO.

After about five minutes of horrified realization from the Galahdians (because oh yeah, they knew mainlanders didn’t have Clans but- but somehow they hadn’t expected braids to Not Be A Thing™), one of the recruits poked his head out of the barracks and then shakily came over to the King. Kneeling, the recruit haltingly explained that braids were sacred to Galahdians, a sign of family and home and belonging and to cut it off ... the recruit shuddered and visibly blanched at just the thought and wouldn’t go on, but by this point Regis got the point and firmly announced that the Kingsglaive would be allowed to keep their braids and hair the way they wished so long as they could prove that their hair would not be a hindrance in battle. Being Galahdians used to handling the Jungle, this was easily proven and the regulation was removed by Royal Order and all the Galahdians collectively breathed a sobbing sigh of relief.

#SE asks #a-world-in-grey asks #Secret Engima Rambles #galahd culture #Stand Strong Verse #Thrown to Wolves verse

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thebeauregardbros · 4 years ago

Text

“The Ultimate Character Questionnaire”: Alus Beauregard

a fuckton of random questions abt alus ramblingly answered

questions stolen from [here]. i cut out ones that ask the same questions i accidentally answered prior, or just didn’t interest me enough to answer, so if you wanna do this for your own OC I recommend copy+pasting it from the source!

Basic Character Questions

First name? Alus (pronounced ‘Ah-Loose’)

Surname? Beauregard (taken from adoptive father)

Nicknames? Alus wants to be called “Al” but it doesn’t stick because his name is already short. Lots of people unfortunately call him Alice. he does not like that

Date of birth? unknown but he celebrates his birthday on All Saint’s Wake (aka Halloween)

Age? Funfact: Alus and Arc’s age is the age between the RPers’ real-world ages (I’m 24, Arc’s player is 25, but for a brief period Arc’s player becomes 26 while I’m still 24.) So they’re going to be 25 this year (2020)... what the fuck. stop growing. dont do that.

Physical / Appearance

Height? I... he’s tall. Despite Alus being the max height for Miqo’te characters (5′8″/173cm), other male Miqo’te RPers say their characters are taller than that anyway, so I’m like.. not sure what to answer. I don’t want to break reasonable canon of what’s possible for Miqo’te but I also don’t want him to be short or average sized in comparison to other average Miqo’te. I’m just gonna say, definitively, “Alus is tall for a Miqo’te”. If you have a tall Miqo, Alus is just as tall. Or half an inch taller. Take that as whatever you want. I’m tired.

Weight? I... don’t know? This question really doesn’t clarify anything to me; people can be the same height and weight and look totally different in body type. If you absolutely had to get an answer from me, my best guess is maybe somewhere between 170lbs-180lbs? (assuming he is 5′8″)

Build? Wide shoulders, slender hips, long legs, big wide chest and a nice strong core. He is muscular; burly and brawny; his body type feels intimidating and large. He has a healthy amount of fat over his muscles, but still has much clearly visible muscle especially while flexing.

Hair colour? Golden blonde; it’s got a subtle yellow-ish tone that reminds you of sunshine.

Hair style? Alus’ hair is naturally thick and wavy. His hair is grown out long; about armpit length. His hair is choppy, even somewhat feathered. It’s a bit badly damaged from years on the road, but the split ends and fly-aways sparkle brilliantly in the sunlight like a messy halo around his head. His hair naturally very poofy, like damaged 80s hair. Long bangs that were once pushed back fall gracefully over his face like a wild child running about in spring. Whilst resting away from work, he braids it loosely.

Eye colour? Heterochromia; A raspberry red in one pupil, and a sun-shiny yellow-orange in the other.

Eye Shape? Thin and serious, and slightly down-turned. Small double-lid.

Glasses or contact lenses? His eyes are overall pretty healthy, but he’s slightly far-sighted. He uses glasses once in awhile to read, but they’re not super necessary.

Distinguishing facial features? Heterochromia and his adult male Miqo’te markings. He tends to wear purple eyeshadow around his eyes and a subtle purple lip tint.

Which facial feature is most prominent? The facial structure of Alus more resembles an Elezen than a typical Miqo’te; he has a long slender nose, a oval face shape and noticeably high cheekbones.

Which bodily feature is most prominent? Alus’ lion-like tail is somewhat unique among other typical Miqo’te.

Other distinguishing features? His style of dress tends to stand out in a crowd; he favors pure white and soft pastels over more popular color tones among adventurers like blacks and greys. Also unlike the typical adventurer, he is more want to wear fabrics of the fancy and soft nobleman, decked out in frills and lace like a prince locked far away in a chamber more than any man on a dusty and bloody battlefield.

Skin? Uh... a... “medium tan” skintone? (again I have no idea how tf I’m supposed to figure out labels for skin tones when there’s no widely used phrases for specific tones fghdjkgh) with a “warm gold undertone”. The small amount of skin that’s ever exposed upon him is surprisingly soft, as if he never did much hard work in his life. [SPOILER]Underneath his clothes, however...The countless scars upon his torso, back, legs and upper-arms are rough and hard, like treated leather.[/SPOILER]

Birthmarks? Not that he knows of. He has lots of scars from messing around in his childhood but he can’t remember the origin of them all. Any of them could be birth marks as far as he can tell.

Tattoos? None! And he never plans to get one. He has yet to see any tattoos that match his personal aesthetics of what he’d put on his body yet and even if he did, he can’t imagine liking them enough to want to get one.

Physical handicaps? [SPOILER]Numbness in various small patches of skin throughout his body.[SPOILER]

Type of clothes? I already answered this somewhat but if you’re curious about specifics, I made [this pinterest] of stuff I’d imagine he’d wear. Pretty much just take the “aristocrat” Japanese street fashion genre and turn it white, and give it a bit of a gold trim. Lots of frills and lace; heavily inspired by fantastical shoujo manga glorified depictions of what a Prince Charming looks like in medieval setting fairy tales.

How do they wear their clothes? Some (not all) of the specific guidelines I have in my head of what his wardrobe’s like; Colors are only pastels, white, or gold - once in a blue moon he might wear a rich dark raspberry red color or bright orange or yellow. He will NEVER wear grey or black. Pants have to be long enough to reach the ankles. He prefers wearing his shirts tucked-in. Clothes MUST fully cover everything on his body excluding head, neck, and hands at all times - low neckline acceptable in off-duty time. Under special occasions only (ie beachware); lower arms, top of feet or shins can be uncovered. He wears a lot of jabot ties.

What are their feet like? (type of shoes, state of shoes, socks, feet, pristine, dirty, worn, etc) Alus takes his quality of fashion seriously. He’s the type of guy who wears expensive fancy soft white socks trimmed with gold nobody will ever see with the little suspenders on his legs to keep the socks from sagging down. He adores wearing white pointed dress shoes, especially if they have a bit of a high heel. Gold jewelry or buckles are lovely, and any shoe with lace, bows, ribbons, fancy beadwork or faux flowers are supreme. (Google image search ‘Bridal Boots’ if you wanna see his shoes. He’d seriously wear any of them.)

Race / Ethnicity? hhhhhhhhh it’s 5am man I dont have the energy to google faces until i find a reasonable faceclaim and try to figure out that person’s ethnicity... they’re Fantasy Characters... alus is a miqo’te.. maybe had some elezen or hyur in his lineage? idk

Mannerisms? Alus is like a living embodiment of a cartoon Disney prince. I don’t know how to better describe it; He’s elegant and gentle for the most part but can also so comically stiff you could mistake him for an automaton or a piece of background cardboard - then when the moment hits, he can spring into an unrealistic slapstick looney toon nightmare. He always seems to be in a constant state of floating between elegance, stiffness, and slapstick. There is never a break. There is never an in-between.

Are they in good health? For their active life circumstances of constant physical hardship, they are in amazingly good health.

Do they have any disabilities? I don’t think of ADHD as a disability (and I’m saying that as someone who has autism and most likely ADD or ADHD myself) but it’s classified by a lot of people as a disability. So yeah, uh, Alus absolutely has ADHD.

Personality

Are they more optimistic or pessimistic? Definitely more optimistic, sometimes to a fault. I think there’s a degree of choice in there but he’s kinda lost the boundary between blind trust and trying to believe in people and situations because he morally wants to. He is still a worry wart, and that is what causes him to fight so hard as he does for making things around him better as well as making himself better - but I think he makes a very active effort of not letting anyone see that part of him, maybe in an effort to convince himself as well that everything is and will be okay.

Are they introverted or extroverted? Extroverted in a lot of ways and introverted in others. Alus loves and thrives around people, and I think he’s a bit more drained than the average person when he’s alone vs. being in a crowd, but he’s still living more as an introvert - one-on-one deep talks can make him extremely anxious. He’s great at the surface niceties but can often find himself too devoted to strangers, which leads him into trouble sometimes. He’s like a really great social co-worker and a extremely awkward off-duty member of society that doesn’t really know how to function or navigate normal relationships.

Do they ever put on airs? A b s o l u t e l y. Alus’ entire persona is carefully hand-crafted over a lifetime. It’s not to say “This isn’t who he really is, he’s a liar”, but moreso “He’s not quite the person he wishes he was yet.” He makes a really large effort to put on airs of this confident and beautiful Princely type of heroic figure straight out of a fairy tale where he simultaneously knows that such a goal is impossible, since this isn’t a story book - this is real life, he is flawed and complicated, and nothing is as perfect as you wish it was. But he keeps trying no matter what.

What bad habits do they have? Low-key bullying his brother, for sure. Arc is the only person Alus just can’t really put on airs with so his perfect image just breaks down around him. While Alus appears to be a very gentle and kind individual around other people, he’ll comically slap and roast his brother without mercy. (Don’t worry; it’s mutual between them.)

What makes them laugh out loud? Almost anything. Alus is definitely a big giggler, and an even bigger loud spontaneous laugher.

How do they display affection? There’s two major levels of it. First, it’s showering you with little gifts - sweets, flowers, even money if you’re in need, with nothing asked in return. If you’re very close to him, it’s skinship; he loves spontaneously hugging others and holding hands and all that kinda platonic stuff. He’ll pretty much not let go of your arm if you’re around him. He also loves dancing with people, you bet he’ll do the whole nine yards of weaving you around him, lifting you above his head and dipping you.

Mental handicaps? Hates being touched. He has some really bad memories of being manhandled and despises any type of physical restriction on himself, especially from people he doesn’t find VERY close to him. He hates even more to be seen in casual clothes, especially clothes that expose his skin. He’s really not a fan of his exposed body and it’s gonna take a lot for him to get over it. He’s slowly getting better but it’s a long journey.

How do they want to be seen by others? Someone to look up to; someone to rely on. He wants to be the hope for humanity, essentially. He wants to inspire others to heroism and kindness just by seeing him, and he wants to make the world a better place just by existing in it.

How do they see themselves? Someone who’s just not good enough; Someone who needs to keep working to be better; someone who’s chosen destiny is to be the hero of humanity.

How are they seen by others? Probably as a weirdo. He definitely comes off as eccentric; his strange comedic ramblings and sudden dancing mid-conversation, as well as his random gifts and bag full of pranks, magic tricks and fireworks just really feel off-the-wall. His immediate devotion to others may also come off as exceedingly suspicious. I think how he dresses and his cafe also indicate he’s kind of the ‘rich unhinged guy’ stereotype. People who know him well though know that he’s an extremely good person who would give you the clothes off his back if you needed them more. He loves humanity and would do anything for it.

Strongest character trait? His stubborn devotion to his ideals, for sure. If he wants something, he’ll work his hardest to make sure it happens.

Weakest character trait? Far too trusting of strangers; he gets taken advantage of very easily, and he’s almost always happy to come back for more. He’ll even give the biggest villain a 2nd and 3rd and 4th chance. His inability to condemn anyone as truly evil may cause far more hardship for everyone in the long run than if he just chose to kill the person or lock them up indefinitely and be done with it.

How competitive are they? Alus thrives in competitive environments due to an absolute love and adoration for sportsmanship. He does a fantastic job making his competitors have fun and feels that a competition that is too one-sided doesn’t have any fun or worth. He loves difficult competition because he feels that it helps better himself and his rival.

Do they make snap judgements or take time to consider? Oh, he’s absolutely a “strike now while the iron’s hot” type of a guy. He knows that even a second of a wait can change things for the worse. He’s also definitely a philosophical type that thinks over every possible scenario in his mind in his off-time, but ultimately, he’ll always be the one running off to get things done as soon as they’re brought to his attention. He’s the opposite of his brother, who wants to slow things down before making rash decisions. Alus just knows those decisions need to be made, so it might as well be now, so he just gets it done and worries about the outcome later.

How do they react to praise? He’s actually probably never used to it. I think he has a bit of a low self-esteem problem in how he sees himself as never quite as good as he wants himself to be, so praise can catch him off-guard pretty easily. He’ll cover that up by clumsily stating something comically over-the-top like “Of course, I am incredible! I am the best! Mwahahaha!” but not before gasping for air and stuttering like a shy schoolgirl first.

How do they react to criticism? He has a great ability to deflect toxicity into positivity; he asks what people mean and tries to understand them. I think if the criticism can be taken as constructive, he’s always happy to take it. If the criticism is just plain mean, I think he’ll ask if there’s anything he can do to help the person he’s talking to - he knows nobody would say such mean things to another unless they were having a pretty bad day.

What is their greatest fear? Oh, y’know. Losing his brother. Slugs and slimy things. If you wanna get painful and philosophical about it, I think he’s terrified of the future. He tries to live in the moment and just do the best he can at all times, but when he sees that what he does doesn’t help a lot of the world to stay safe, it freaks him out. In his mind, he’s doing a lot, but in reality - it’s not much at the grand scheme of things. He tries not to think about it too much. He tries not to think much of the past either - of all the mistakes, of what he could and couldn’t have done. It frustrates him. I guess you could say his greatest fear is his own limits. It never feels like he’s doing enough, or even if he ever could do enough.

What are their biggest secrets? [SPOILERS, OBVIOUSLY] Alus is absolutely disgusted with the military powers of the world, and the politicians. He tries to stay optimistic and bright on the outside - he stays useful and does what he can without complaint, he tries to lie to himself and say it isn’t too bad, tries to focus on the good these systems do, to be placated and trust his brother that things will work out alright in this setup - but he sincerely wishes that somehow they could be abolished entirely. He’s frustrated with the idea of any one person or power having control over the lives of others - people those single powers may never meet - will inevitably cause a lack of humanity and understanding of others. Nobody should have this power, not even him, not even the gods. As Alus’ writer, I don’t think he knows a good alternative, he just knows he’s seen enough immoral and inconsiderate shitfuckery in these systems that he can barely stand it anymore. I think many soldiers probably feel like this eventually. [/SPOILER]

What is their philosophy of life? literally just look at the [quote insp tag]

When was the last time they cried? I FEEL LIKE ALUS IS THE TYPE TO TEAR UP AT EXTREMELY COMMON SHIT TBH?? EVERYTHING IS SO BEAUTIFUL I STARTED CRYING TYPE??

What haunts them? [SPOILER]Literally just... becoming a soldier or a fighter to begin with. He wishes it never happened, he wishes the world didn’t need fighting to begin with. But he knows he can never go back now, and even if he did, he’d probably still become a soldier all over again. It’s all he can do in this violent, terrible world.[/SPOILER]

What are their political views? Notable traits would supporting equality rights for Beastmen, more funding towards helping refugees, more funding to adoption agencies and orphanages, more transparency about tax profit and spending, creating opportunities for different countries to share their culture.. etc. (Note: I like to believe that larger glaring IRL political issues like lack of LGBTQ+ rights, gender inequality, ableism, skin-color-based racism and other large current inhumane social problems aren’t problems in FFXIV’s universe. If your RP character uses bigotry in accurate line of these IRL social issues as a character trait, you are not welcome in my RP circle. Period.)

What will they stand up for? He hates violence in general, so he’ll do whatever he can to stop it. Anyone who seems to be controlling or keeping other people against their will is something he loathes. No means no!

Who do they quote? Urianger. like a lot. Probably mostly accidentally; he picks up a lot of vocal mannerisms from the guy.

Are they indoorsy or outdoorsy? Outdoorsy, for sure. He grew up under the stars and being forced indoors for a long time will probably give him feelings of anxiousness and claustrophobia, especially if the space is small. He has had some bad experiences being unable to go outside so he takes his freedom to roam outdoors very seriously.

What is their sinful little habit? He loves sweets. This guy is all about boasting a healthy diet, but his weakness shows the exact opposite. More serious answer: He tends to procrastinate bad, especially when it comes to his passive military duties.

How do they treat people better than them? If they breathe, they’re royalty. Utmost respect and courtesy. Treats them as if he’s the royal butler to their fancy ass selves, even if they’re the lowest of the low in poverty.

How do they treat people worse than them? Honestly? Pretty much the same answer as above. If he gets truly angry at someone, he’ll tell them how and why straight-up, but he’ll never stop giving them the respect and courtesy he believes every human being deserves.

What quality do they most value in a friend? Someone who is as ridiculously open-hearted and ready to confess love to the nearest person along with anything else in the world as Alus tends to do, but also someone who pays close enough attention to him that they can tell when he’s in distress. Alus has a hard time speaking up about when he feels uncomfortable, so someone who has a talent for empathy - detecting other peoples’ emotions - would be incredibly invaluable. That’s the fastest way to his heart.

What do they consider an overrated virtue? None, and all. He thinks that if anyone gets carried away with any traditional virtue to the point that they’re causing evil in the world, they’re just misguided. He understands that - or at least actively wants to understand that - so he can forgive.

If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be? He... honestly thinks of himself as more of an Elezen than a Miqo’te. So anything that ‘gives away’ that he’s a Miqo’te, he could probably do without. He likes his ears and his tail though! But maybe if he was taller? lmao. (I don’t intend to ever Fantasia Alus FYI, MAYBE if male viera comes out and my partner agrees to it AND I have absolutely no active RP going on, but it’s very unlikely, and if it does happen it will be considered a retcon, not a character development)

What is their obsession? Definitely his aesthetics. He spends an incredibly large amount of time, effort, and money on making himself look and properly act like a “fairy tale prince charming”. It’s not only a philosophical mindset of being moral and heroic, but also being charming and supportive to everyone around himself. He honestly hopes and believes that if he succeeds in creating and upholding this image that every person who rests their eyes upon him will be filled with determination and hope that heroism and safety is real.

What are their pet peeves? He disapproves of the glorification of alcohol, smoking, or any other vices that are bad for the average person’s health. He won’t turn away the people with these vices as potential friends, but he’ll certainly be tempted to lecture them on it. He is also really not a fan of casual skinship between strangers, nor is he a fan of an aggressively pessimistic attitude, nor will he ever really be used to people who wear very little clothing (He isn’t disapproving of the sex industry or sex workers per say, he just doesn’t ‘get it’; he could never imagine himself in their shoes), nor is he a fan of other people trying to change him to be more chill about his aesthetic code (how he dresses, how he positively interacts with others, etc.) - but he tends to be more quiet about his dislike of these things. He tries to stay open minded and patient, but yeah, maybe it’ll take a bit longer to get to ‘close friend’ status with these things.

What are their idiosyncrasies? (special mannerisms?) His posture tends to be stiff as a board: too perfect, like some sort of breathing statue or mechanic humanoid, while at other times it’s as if a switch is flipped to make him become a crazy slapstick ragdoll. He tends to speak in a constant fluctuation of ‘ye olde English’ and common casual speech, and he keeps a few feet distance from people he isn’t especially close with at all times. He’s generous with money and far too trusting of strangers to the point it feels like an overblown parody of these traits. He’s painfully optimistic and takes compliments first with a moment of surprise before he adjusts his reaction with over-the-top narcissistic vigor. He’s a constantly faltering image of himself. He’s a walking symbolism of good-hearted chaos.

Friends and Family

Is their family big or small? Who does it consist of? The only people Alus regards as true family is his twin brother, Arc, and his late adoptive father, Gwenneg. There are other Beauregards in the world, and other great “found family”-esque friends yet to make, but Alus cannot imagine them ever meeting the kind of friendship and connection he has with his brother and had with his father. Perhaps he’s tried in the past, but it just never feels the same. He’s at the point he’s given up on the idea of it happening casually.

What is their perception of family? A close-knit group that is always there for eachother, practically living at eachother’s hips. The type of people you can just glance at and they can read your mind, and even if they disagree with you, they’ll go along with you and fix it later. They’re always up for improving eachother. They are essentially extensions of oneself, and like limbs, even if such is cut - it is carefully looked after and healed, the rest of the body worries and tries to better it, never blaming it’s limb for not being good enough. All part of one system.

Describe their best friend. Arc is undeniably Alus’ best friend. I feel a bit weird talking about my friend’s OC for them, but I will say this; Arc’s strengths are in his slow and strategic approach to things; his love of politics and ability to glide through them, the way he finds the best routes and setups in battle, the timing, everything down to the little tiniest details to turn a battle of either wits or blood - he thinks over all of it, something Alus lacks. And despite being much less prone to trust than the willingly naive Alus, he can find the good in just about anybody when it really comes down to it. Arc knows the dark side of this world and is constantly aware and remembering of it, but understands it’s still worth fighting for. He’s also got a pretty good fashion sense! He seems extremely shady when it comes to his bar business though... It seems to be played up as a joke, but you’re never quite sure as you’re talking to him about it.

Ideal best friend? In assumption this means ‘a best friend besides Arc’, I think Alus’ standards are low. Of course, he’d love to have someone who shares his basic interests of aesthetics and his moral philosophy that centralizes on a love for humanity, and the honor and strength of action to act on it, but he also wants to know someone who can teach him a lot. I think that type of person could be absolutely anyone, especially someone that is nothing like him. Alus doesn’t want to necessarily completely change himself through the journey of knowing anothers’ life, nor change someone else entirely either, even if it’s for the better. He just wants mutual understanding with others. He finds a joy that can be found nowhere else when he feels two people, who don’t have anything in common, can find a common ground. This kind of thing excites him. I think something in-between -- someone who is a lot like him in a lot of ways, but has a few traits he lacks completely -- is ideal for him.

Describe their other friends / Describe their acquaintances. (combo’d) Alus doesn’t really have other people he regards true friends, I think. He kinda regards every person he meets as his friends. That’s really all there is to it for him.

Do they have any pets? No pets, just a lot of animals that follow him around for food scraps and snacks. He always has an open window for birds and butterflies, and an open door to dodos and chickens and stray cats. He enjoys the company of birds the most, though he’s a fan of the loyal doggy too. In terms of his mounts - He mainly only claims ownership over his military-issued chocobo for paperwork purposes, but regards her as a friend without a voice more than an animal under his ownership.

Who are their natural allies? Anyone who agrees for humanitarian rights, I think. Alus just exists to be a hero, really.

Who are their surprising allies? People he once fought. He always reaches out a hand for people who’ve made mistakes and tells them that he’ll be their friend if they agree to stop their mean-spirited behavior.

Past and Future

What was your character like as a baby? As a child? Equal combination “good kid” and “absolute little shit”; On the surface, he’d always be loyal to his father and polite to strangers, but the second he and his brother got some time to themselves they’d get into all kinds of shenanigans - especially if they manage to find some way to conceal their identity. Most of those shenanigans were pranks trying to scare people with All Saint’s Wake-esque props. They were also a time they were absolutely not above purposely trying to confuse people on which brother was which whenever it was convenient or just funny.

Did they grow up rich or poor? Poor, but I think he still thought himself as lucky. He might not have had a big room to himself or a lot of possessions, but he got to travel the world and meet so many interesting people and see so many interesting things in his father’s caravan.

Did they grow up nurtured or neglected? Nurtured for sure. His family were joined at the hip.

What is the most offensive thing they ever said? I’m sure Alus used to have a potty mouth when he was a kid and young teen. He picked it up from being exposed to so many different individuals growing up. If he’s been around a lot of sailors in Lima Lominsa, I think it’s a safe bet that he probably swore like one too. After his father died that changed almost immediately though in order to honor his dad’s memory.

What is their greatest achievement? I’m sure there’s much more impressive individual achievements he has accomplished - monsters he’s fought, hostage situations he’s negotiated, villains he’s managed to persuade to become heroes, but if you asked him, he’d tell you that simply being lucky enough to be chosen to become one of the Warriors of Light or opening his cafe are the achievements he’s most proud of.

What was their first kiss like? [spoiler]Still haven’t had it![/spoiler]

What is the worst thing they did to someone they loved? I feel like even though Alus adored his father, he probably did a lot of things to make him worried or stressed out, maybe even ran away once or twice just for the fun of it. It was a lot more innocent time for Alus and I don’t think he’d do anything like that in adulthood.

What are their ambitions? Alus just wants to end all war. Full stop. It’s not that complicated. He doesn’t really know the most effective way how to, though. He just keeps doing whatever he can when people request his help - which usually ends up taking advantage of his physical combat skills.

What advice would they give their younger self? Cherish this time. Hug your father and tell him you love him more often. And maybe focus on being a medic or someone who helps the world peacefully more than someone who uses violence to solve the world’s problems. Maybe care a little more about politics.

What smells remind them of their childhood? Chamomile, road dust, seasalt, and old fancy dusty antiques.

What was their childhood ambition? To grow up to be a glamorous warrior that saves the world again and again and to rescue a pretty princess.

What is their best childhood memory? Dancing on the streets of Ul’dah with his brother for a little extra pocket money and becoming unexpectedly popular.

What is their worst childhood memory? Losing his father to the calamity and being passed between temporary foster homes again and again, then finally losing his brother in that mess, too.

Did they have an imaginary childhood friend? Alus left out honeyed milk for faeries all the time as a child. Post-calamity, he started to quietly make-believe that faeries and little unicorns visited him when he was particularly lonely or bored, or just wanted to escape his own mind for awhile.

When was the last time they were crushed with disappointment? [FFXIV POST-STORMBLOOD SPOILER]Hearing about Zenos’ body being revived against Zenos’ wishes for a perfect death.[/SPOILER]

What past act are they most ashamed of? Any time Alus can’t save someone from death. Sometimes, Alus must be the one to kill them himself. This is an unbearable sin to bear for him.

What past act are they most proud of? Any time he can save someone. Any time he can help the suffering of someone by giving a little coin. Every time he has made someone smile. It is all the most cherishable, wonderful memories to him. None better than the others.

Has anyone ever saved their life? His twin brother Arc probably on at least a weekly basis. I think saving eachothers’ lives is a regular thing on a battlefield, even if your ally is basically a stranger.

Strongest childhood memory? Just sitting underneath the stars, curled up under a blanket with his brother while they rest their head on their father’s lap as he reads them bedtime stories.

Love

Do they believe in love at first sight? Absolutely. Guy will trust anyone at the drop of a hat, why not fall in love, too?

Are they in a relationship? Not officially, no. I think he casually flirts a lot and has gone out on sporadic dates with many people, but he hasn’t become anyone’s “steady”.

How do they behave in a relationship? Alus is extremely inexperienced. I think he’ll end up trying so hard to show off to whoever he’s dating that he’ll become exhausted. He wants to treat his future spouse like royalty.

When did you character last have sex? [SPOILER]Never![/SPOILER]

What sort of sex do they have? Nothing kinky or out there, he’s a shy confused mess to begin with when it comes to sex - he’s probably very reserved and traditional about it. I should note that Alus is canonically asexual, even if he doesn’t fully realize it yet. He doesn’t really understand the appeal of sex but he’d want his significant other to be happy. [NSFW/18+] He’d definitely insist on being a top, though. [/SAFE!]

Has your character ever been in love? As an greyromantic writer, I have no fucking solid idea what romantic love is supposed to be defined as. If you define it as ‘fantasizing about having a certain person in mind as a future spouse’ then, yes, Alus has been in love loads of times.

Have they ever had their heart broken? Many times, but it rarely gets him down for too long - he’ll fall in love with the next person he sees, then the cycle restarts.

Conflict

How do they respond to a threat? A fake, forced smile. Explaining calmly to the enemy that what they’re doing is wrong. Explaining calmly to the enemy to drop it and go drink tea with him instead. If being calm doesn’t work, yelling at them about their hypocritical morality like some sort of shounen superhero making a speech.

Are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue? Tongue, for sure. Alus will be so painfully reasonable with his enemies that the only way he’s drawing his sword to fight is someone else draws first.

What is your character’s kryptonite? Like any hero, he’s a sucker for hostages. Also, math completely turns him fucking stupid. [SPOILER]Also... having his morality questioned, especially being accused of being a hypocrite.[/SPOILER]

If your character could only save one thing from their burning house, what would it be? A faerie tale storybook from his childhood his father read to him often when he was alive.

How do they perceive strangers? “A friend he doesn’t know yet.”

What do they love to hate? I don’t really imagine Alus truly ‘hates’ anything or anyone, just greatly dislikes or disapproves of them. And even then I think he doesn’t particularly enjoy disliking them. I don’t think he views negative feelings as something to be prideful over.

What are their phobias? Slugs and other slimy creatures, as well as mild situational claustrophobia.

What is their choice of weapon? His fists, for sure; there’s some sort of philosophy inside his mind that fighting with his bare hands or body without tools or weapons to aid him is the ultimate form of respect towards other human beings’ pain and livelihood - he wants them to know he shall feel pain right back if he strikes someone else, and he’s allowing himself the possibility to be hurt in return.

What living person do they most despise? I think anyone who justifies war or pain as a glorious and wonderful thing instead of a tragedy is someone he dislikes. Especially if said person has no respect for human life or the bodies of the fallen.

Have they ever been bullied or teased? Plenty. Unfortunately mostly his given name is particularly targetted. He’s also been called too soft plenty of times.

Where do they go when they’re angry? Home - his house is well soundproofed and cozy. He may go on an off-trail walk alone in the middle of Thanalan or the like.

Who are their enemies and why? The Garlean army, the Ascians.. do you really need to ask why? They wish to create death and chaos, that’s plenty of a reason enough.

Work, Education and Hobbies

What is their current job? Maelstrom military field medic, café proprietor, free paladin

What do they think about their current job? The café is seemingly always empty, but he doesn’t mind continuing to pour money into it. It’s a safe haven to him and a symbol of his independence from the violent life of military duty. Being a field medic is endlessly horrifying, but he’s glad he can help people. His status of Free Paladin makes him obligated to carry out duties to help Eorzea, which is something he’s proud of - but he is always not all that great at drawing his sword at the sign of trouble.

What are some of their past jobs? The only other “jobs” Alus has had in the past were mostly just side jobs for a little extra pocket money, mostly dancing on the street.

What are their hobbies? Dancing, capoeira martial arts, piano, tea brewing, baking, reading, writing, sketching, watercolor art, goldsmithing, fashion, bird keeping.

Educational background? Went to a school for accounting for a few years. He retained absolutely no information about accounting.

Intelligence level? Literate; can read older more complex texts easily. Good with maps. More of a “physical education” kinda guy.

Do they have any specialist training? Paladin training. Nothing else formal.

Do they have a natural talent for something? Weirdly incredibly good at parkour - stuff like navigating tightropes and climbing up buildings without any hesitation or struggle.

What is their socioeconomic status? At the moment, Alus is pretty well-off. He and his brother own their own business in the Lavender Beds, and Alus can afford high class clothes, hobbies, furniture and the like. He’s also prone to donate to charity near constantly.

Favourites

What is their favourite animal? whatever birds are ROUND

Which animal to they dislike the most? S L U G S

What place would they most like to visit? His cafe, honestly. It’s a safe haven.

What is the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen? People.

What is their favourite song? Simply Satie

Music, art, reading preferred? Alus loves playing piano, drawing sketches and reading storybooks. I don’t think he could trade one for the other! (He’s awful at singing though.)

What is their favourite colour? Pale blue, white, yellow-gold, and pastel pink.

What is their password? “Password”. Nobody will ever get it!

Favourite food: La Noscean toast! (AKA French toast!) with lots of berries and whipped cream!

Who is their favourite artist? ??? ((OOC: if Alphonse Mucha was in FFXIV it’d be him idk))

What is their favourite day of the week? E V E R Y D A Y (but probably mostly Sunday)

Possessions

What is in their fridge: Fresh salad, fruits, fresh berries, vegetables, tofu, jackfruit, orange juice, leftover strawberry shortcake, protein shakes, leftover rice, eggs, butter, yogurt, frozen berries... and even fresh flowers?

What is on their bedside table? A dozen lighthearted fairytale and academic books on aether he recycles through reading every night as he goes to bed, a pitcher & glass of water, a vase with a flower in it, reading glasses, 3 inch tall lil stuffed dodo.

What is in their bin? Compost bin for old fruits/vegetables/egg shells/bread and a recycling bin full of paper and packaging garbage.

What is in their bag? A lot of coin, a hairbrush, a box of ice chilled flowers, travel-size beauty products, lots of fireworks and other fun little spectacle toys, a pocket-sized book of poetry, a basic armor polishing set, a miniature sewing kit, bandages, healing potions.

What is their most treasured possession? A very old and damaged book of fairy tales from his childhood.

Spirituality

Who or what is your character’s guardian angel? His adoptive father - at least, that’s what he wants to believe.

Do they believe in the afterlife? Yes! Very much so.

What are their religious views? [SPOILER]Alus has a complicated relationship with religion. For the most part of his life, he’s believed in The Twelve like every other Eorzean, but as he’s grown older he’s found himself more and more impatient and even disgusted of the cruelties that the gods allow to happen, and the ways followers of Nald’thal and Halone use their religion as a means to prey on the weak for the sake of money, classism, and racial disparity. Hearing the words of Garlean soldiers point out that proof that The Twelve exist is seemingly nonexistent has further disrupted Alus’ belief in them. Alus does, however, firmly believe in Hydaelyn.[/SPOILER]

What do they think heaven is? Alus has no true confident belief in what exactly the seven heavens are, but he likes to think heaven is a place where flowers bloom all the time, the weather is always warm and sunny, bugs don’t bother you and war and violence never happen, and relaxing tea parties are hosted all day long, clothes are comfortable and pretty and never soiled by dirt and mud no matter how much you play in the grass.

What do they think hell is? Like many Eorzeans, Alus believes in the seven hells. The seven hells are a place that one must climb out of to eventually make it to heaven, and depending on how bad of a person you were in life, the deeper in hell you start out in after you die, and the more you have to climb before you get upward into heaven. Alus finds great comfort in this ideology because it means that no matter how bad a person was in life, they may still find forgiveness and redemption in death.

Are they superstitious? I think he’s open-minded. He seems to discover so many legends of being real every day that it’s difficult for him not to believe in anything and everything he hears. He tries to be respectful of the unknown and follow their rules, but when push comes to shove it’s all about the grandest happiness for everyone - he will challenge whatever fae or ghostly apparition that wants to mess with him if he thinks what they’re doing is immoral or unfair.

What would they like to be reincarnated as? A stream. A rosebush. A rainbow. Something that others can look at and feel at peace, something for others to enjoy. A way to give love without living a life that inevitably creates suffering through heroism. To just exist as part of the beauty in the world.

How would they like to die? He doesn’t know. Death scares him. He does not want to die in battle. He does not want to die sleeping in a bed. But he wishes he’ll be old. He wishes he’ll have lots of friends. And he wishes he did everything he could while he was alive to make the world a better place as much as he possibly could.

What animal is most like your character, spiritually speaking? .... A golden retriever. Eager to please, extremely loving and loyal, a strong body, picky about weird things, and incredibly goofy.

Values

What do they think is the worst thing that can be done to a person? Betrayal?? torture?? bullying?? rape?? what do you want from me. He hates all forms of toxic and violent behavior!!

What is their view of ‘freedom’? The ability to form your own path; the ability to be whatever you want, even if the dream seems impossible to everyone else. The ability to go anywhere you want, walk and run anywhere you want, travel anywhere you want. The ability to say no when you want. The ability to be respected as independent.

How often do they lie? NEVER!!!!!!! He might bend the truth a little bit or side-step an answer but even white lies he’s not into. He rarely needs to white lie about anything anyway; he tends to see the best in everything.

What’s their view of lying? BAD AND UNNESSESARY

How often do they make promises? Constantly.

How often do they keep or break their promises? He 100% keeps his promises unless he’s literally physically incapacitated and in which case he will apologize and try to make it up to you so much

Daily life

What are their eating habits? Vegetarian. He eats really healthy and he eats a lot. Big fan of asian food I think. Has no problems eating stuff that’s bland as hell; I feel like it’s part of his determination to better himself. Has a terrible weakness for sweets, though. Secretly hates stuff that’s slimy, like mushrooms, but he will never complain if it’s given to him.

Do they have any allergies? Nope, he’s lucky. If he does, he hasn’t discovered it yet.

Describe their home. Very white, tons of gold nouveau trim on everything, and tons of flowers everywhere. Looks like the home of royalty. [Here’s his housing aesthetic.]

Are they minimalist or a clutter hoarder? Neither, I think. Maybe leaning closer to minimalist over clutter-lover; he likes everything being clean and easy to access in his house. His design aesthetic of nouveau isn’t necessarily minimalist in inherent style though imo.

What do they do first thing on a weekday morning? Wakes up extra early, takes a quick cool shower to wake himself up, eats a quick and simple breakfast full of protein; most likely something with a lot of nuts and eggs as it’s ingredients + big salad. packs a simple lunchbox and starts his day: Every morning, he walks to the statues of Nald and Thal, viewing the warm pink sunrise in the process. he pays his respects to each; cleans and dusts with a simple cleaning kit he’s left there prior. Leaves some simple offerings. Finds somewhere nice and empty in Thanalan to do some excercises and martial arts training for the day. sits down and eats lunch afterwards. lazily walks home, takes another quick shower to get the sweat and dust off. while his hair is drying, he puts on makeup and decides a proper outfit to wear for the day. meets up with arc, goes on their obliged military-issued mission for the day.

What do they do on a Sunday afternoon? Makes an effort to drag Arc over to his place for a big fancy dinner. Tea and crumpets as an early evening appetizer. Alus cooks everything while Arc hangs out and talks, lending a bit of help when Alus demands asks for him. Arc sneaks in alcohol. Alus yells at him. repeat next week.

What do they do on a Friday night? this but like, outside, alone, in the middle of thanalan somewhere

What is the soft drink of choice? If soft drinks existed in Eorzea I can’t help but feel like Alus is one of those freaks who don’t like any of them.

What is their alcoholic drink of choice? NO

Miscellaneous

What is their character archetype? This question originally linked to some basic archetypes, but I already have TVtropes collected and they’re far more interesting as an answer imo SO: [All-Loving Hero], [Reluctant Warrior], [Cloudcuckoolander], [Warrior Poet], [Stepford Smiler], [Motor Mouth], [Large Ham], [Stupid Good], [In Touch With His Feminine Side], [The Fashionista], [Light Is Good], [Flower Motifs], [Declaration of Protection].

Who is their hero? I don’t think Alus has a specific person in mind that isn’t fictional - fact is, nobody is as perfect as the type of person he strives to be. I think he finds traits of admirable heroism everywhere in people, though. Everything from his friends who fight for the good of the world no matter what, from the villain who unexpectedly saves someone while nobody else is watching, to the single mother who works hard to raise her children, to the homeless people who just continue to fight on to live even when everything feels so hopeless around them. I think he sees traits in others he wishes he had all the time. He wants to embody all the good traits of everyone. And I should mention, if one is to have a ‘hero’, it is expected that person to be better than one, yes? I don’t think Alus believes he’s particularly better than anyone else, especially in their positive traits.

What or who would your character dress up as for Halloween? Alus goes HARD on All Saint’s Wake. He and Arc’s signature best costume always ends up being these hyper-realistic ghost costumes that they trick out with special glamours, magic, and tech to surprise the passerby. If it doesn’t genuinely scare someone, it isn’t enough!

Are they comfortable with technology? I think he’s absolutely got the boomer brain when it comes to allagan technology. He can get by fixing old mechanical clocks and the like but when it comes to allagan stuff, he’s just absolutely out of his element. He’ll certainly listen if someone wants to try explaining it to him, but it’ll take considerable time before he fully “gets it” and usually when he does, it’s more on blind faith and an ability to follow basic directions more than true understanding. I think in general it just doesn’t really interest him and if he’s going to spend the time and energy to learn about it, he’d rather use that energy on his other interests - books, physical training, baking and the like. (Modern AU: He’s absolutely the guy still using an ancient flip phone because “It still works!” Also, he capitalizes and uses perfect grammar in all his extremely-hard-to-type number code texts.)

If they could save one person, who would it be? It’s a difficult question, because of course - the first person to come to mind is Arc. But the thing is, Arc can take care of himself. And Alus knows this. Alus trusts this. So when it comes down to choosing between Arc and someone less capable.. Alus will most likely help the less capable person. If Arc is hurt, Alus knows he’ll forgive him. But if Arc were to die? And it be Alus’ fault? It would utterly crush him.

If they could call one person for help, who would it be? Arc, of course. There’s nobody Alus would rather have by his side while dealing with problems.

What is their favourite proverb? “Since it is likely that children will meet cruel enemies, let them at least have heard of brave knights and courage.” – C.S. Lewis (Personally my fav proverb in thinkin about Alus is “Because the world is so full of death and horror, I try again and again to console my heart and pick the flowers that grow in the midst of hell.” – Hermann Hesse)

What is their greatest extravagance? This is kind of a depressing and even controversial answer, but it’s honestly any time he has ducked out from military duty with or without permission when all of it has just gotten to him too much. He knows that him not being there will be more of a problem than a solution - he knows that - but any moment he can just pretend, for a moment, that he’s just a normal man running a normal little girlish cafe during a time without war.. That’s his greatest extravagance.

What is their greatest regret? The amount of enemies he has been forced to down when talk wasn’t enough is piling higher and higher every moon cycle. It’s an absolute horror. He tries so hard to be nonlethal as possible. He’s studied so much how to avoid vital organs, how to down someone without hurting them badly, but no matter what there is always the chance of there being a prior injury he didn’t know about, or a undiagnosed medical problem that was just activated by the smallest knock.. That isn’t even to mention the people who have been hurt because the people he talked down didn’t keep their word or stood back up when he thought they’d stay asleep. No matter what, he just isn’t enough to save everyone. Why is it that no matter how hard he works to have this ideal of pacifism, it never works completely? Why is it never enough?

What is their perception of redemption? That the unwavering truth of this world is that people are fundamentally capable of change. He refuses to believe otherwise, no matter what. Perhaps it is an active choice instead of an instinctual one, nobody is certain for Alus’ mindful case. He believes the expectation for lifelong punishment for a past crime is petty and cruel, and in itself deters people from switching sides for the better. He believes anyone and everyone deserves the right to have the choice to right their wrongs at any time. Don’t misunderstand though - He understands sometimes people are far too gone for simply dropping everything they’ve done and that’s enough to erase their mistakes - he knows that some people can only find rightful redemption in the afterlife after execution, even if execution is not an ideal solution to stopping them in his eyes. But he prays for them. He’ll never give up on anyone.

What would they do if they won the lottery? Back into investments or savings to get an even bigger profit later. Alus knows how to play the smart long game. But uh... If the fates play a trick and he sees a beautiful fashion piece in a shop window, maybe that won’t last too long. He’s also notoriously overly generous with money to the needy, he spends money on service tips like pouring water out of a glass. Money is always moving, and if he starts to run low, he just works a little harder to get back to the comfort zone. He’s in a pretty good place in his life monetarily wise atm already.

What is their favourite fairytale? It’s difficult to answer this because I don’t know what sorts of stories exist in Eorzean canon! But I can say that the real-world 1986 manga “The Sword of Paros” is a huge inspiration to Alus’ character. It’s about a person born with the title of ‘Princess’ who believes to have been born the wrong gender, and does everything in their power to prove themselves worthy of the title of ‘Prince’ despite immeasurable odds against them from their family and their country. The hero also falls in love with a commoner woman who wishes nothing more to be loved by the idyllic image of a charming knight in shining armor that comes and rescues her, and their love is ultimately tragic as it’s also not recognized as valid.. but the prince never stops fighting for his title and the right of his love, and the ability for them both to be happy. Though the story ends without the ideal conclusion, the very concept of these characters fighting against all odds for something genuinely better for the whole world is something Alus is really all about. (Also, seriously, read this manga. It’s groundbreaking. It’s Utena done right.)

What fairytale do they hate? Any faerietales that have unhappy endings, or seem to focus strongly on tragedy or pessimistic ideas of realism in the world. That tends to fall into the category of ‘cautionary tales’ most the time. He’s also really not a fan of stories with body horror or gore.

Do they believe in happy endings? I think he believes that happy endings should always be the goal, but I don’t think he truly accepts that they actually exist. He understands that happiness and safety is always temporary, and this is why he should always strive to make the world a better place. If he helps someone get to a point that they’re happy, healthy, and safe - he’ll just move on to the next person who needs his help. A happy ending for himself though? I think he’s not confident in it, but he wants to live every day to the fullest as he can before he dies. He accepts this as part of his duty - he knows he’s living on ultimately borrowed time.

What is their idea of perfect happiness? Being in love, being surrounded by people you love, having the support of others you trust and having the ability to spoil the people you care about. Having a home you’ll never be kicked out of.. And no war that you have to leave to. No people you have to harm. Just the peace to drink tea with your former enemies as you gaze out onto flowers on a warm day... That’s all he ever wants.

What would they ask a fortune teller? I think he’s concerned if he’ll ever someone to truly share his life with besides his brother. He just really wants a good friend.. Ideally, someone attractive he can hold the hand of!

If your character could travel through time, where would they go? Before the Calamity. He’d just want to listen to his father tell him a few more stories again. He misses the peacefulness of his childhood, the certainty that someone out there stronger than him loved him and wanted to keep him safe, the ability to ignore his own call to war... He wouldn’t so selfish to want to try and bend fate enough to save his father, though he would if he had the chance.. But he knows it’s impossible.

What sport do they excel at? (Modern AU) He was definitely a cheerleader in highschool and/or college, I feel like. Probably into dancing! And ofc a dedicated martial artist. I feel like he’d be pretty good at football and wrestling too - games that require a bulky build to be great at - but he just doesn’t have a particular interest in either of those.

What sport do they suck at? (Modern AU) Probably stuff like archery and tennis - not only would he’d thrive better in big team sports, he’s just not much for long-range dexterity. He’d also be absolutely incompetent as an esports competitor lmfao.

If they could have a superpower, what would they choose? Anything that was especially effective at saving peoples’ lives. Time travel to stop mistakes before they happen or say the right thing before a war breaks out, super effective healing powers... anything. Just to stop suffering and death.

#meme #alus beauregard #ffxiv rp #this literally took me like 4 months to complete fuck

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