#this was only a long inconvenience so im very fortunate

[odinsblog]

THE ELECTRICITY IS FINALLY BACK ON ‼️

And tomorrow I will have potable water again. I cannot even begin to tell you how happy I am to have AC again

[prentissluvr]

HI MARI !!

IM HERE WITH MY DEAN THOUGHTS!! (mostly platonic)

when you become friends/best friends, he’s ride or die for you

not on the same level of sammy but it’s a close second

the playful banter between the two of you is just great

although he knows that he can be annoying and uses it to his advantage

flirting with you to annoy his brother (he knows that sammy is in love with you and does it to get on his nerves)

PET NAMES!

has a reserved nickname for you but does pull out the pet names if you’re having a bad day

speaking of bad days/sick days

he will go out of his way to take care of you

pulls out all of the stops for his bestie

this is when you realize this man is a secret softy at heart (refuses to admit it, because he’s a “big bad hunter”)

platonic cuddles/casual physical affection

dean is reserved with physical affection (im thinking post hell! dean) (earlier szns dean wouldn’t hold back tbh)

but once he’s comfortable with you (and is sure that you won’t leave him or sammy)

then it’s a free for all

swinging his arm over your shoulder, sharing a bed if there’s only two beds (sam seethes sometimes but this is way before you guys get together lol), resting his head in your lap during movie nights (starts off as a joke wanting to annoy you but then does it almost everytime you guys have one, loves when his hair is getting played with)

there’s def more but ill cut it off here (i love bestie dean but im also in love with him LOL) (the winchester brothers have a GRIP on me)

HELLO DAISYYYY HEHEHEHE this is amazing i'm so obsessed <33

cw : mentions of injuries, pet names obviously , dean is annoying ofc <3, sammy and reader like each other, swearing probably, alcohol mention, unedited! wc : 1.5K

⟢ ride or die : i mean yeah, this is pretty much undeniable. sure, sam will always be his first priority, but the moment he knows that you're a part of the team, no doubts, he's prepared to do just about anything for you. both fortunately and unfortunately, this does mean he gets really protective of you similarly to how he is with sam, especially if you're younger than him. and even if you're not, the fact that you're his best friend makes you family, and we know how dean feels about family <3

⟢ playful banter : this is basically just your whole friendship with him HAHA. not truly, of course, but mostly heh. like idk what else to say, he'll take any opportunity to tease you or make you fake angry because he just thinks it's too funny. and he'll love whatever way you respond to that. he definitely enjoys if you return his fire with your own teasing and retorts and i personally think you are so allowed to be mean to him because he's an idiot!! obviously don't be actually mean, but he enjoys having a teasing relationship where you can call each other stupid and know that the other means it with love lol.

when the two of you get into it, sam gets so annoyed. like you'll be arguing about the value of mustard on sandwiches and both of you are so invested in winning the argument and sam is like oh my god, dean please focus on the road and shut up, both of you😭😭 the boy is trying to sleep, he doesn't need this right now. so you either keep arguing in hushed tones (which doesn't last for long) or you pick it back up at another time (that's also probably inconvenient and annoying to sam still HA).

and yeah, dean can be very annoying and he loves to rile you up LOL. it's great when you reciprocate his banter, but sometimes he's just so ridiculous that it has you rolling your eyes and groaning in frustration. and unfortunately for you, that, or any other dramatic response, is exactly what dean is trying to get out of you. "dean, will you shut up?" is one of his favorites. he just laughs at you, he thinks the way you say it is so funny and cute.

he does other annoying things too, like rest his elbow on your head or shoulder if it reaches, he doesn't care if you're his same height, barely shorter, or significantly shorter, he's gonna make fun of your height. and if you're taller, yeah he's still gonna make fun of that, too. he'll playfully put his hand on the top of your head, just for the pure intention of annoying you. idk basically anything that annoys you, he does it (usually without going overboard, he knows where to draw the line).

and yeah, the flirting is more about annoying sam, but it's a total plus when you give him that look saying, "really, are you kidding me?" he'll love a good banter on that end of the spectrum too, if you're down for flirting back. unfortunately, this sends sam the wrong message for the longest time, but it's not your fault that you don't know that he likes you back! you're just playing around with dean heh.

⟢ pet names/nicknames : yes yes yes!! he absolutely has a nickname that is specific to you!! basically your version of "sammy." it might be a nickname based off of your given name, but it totally could be an inside joke, something silly and cute. it might even be a pet name that he uses for you exclusively. i can see him calling a younger best friend "pumpkin," mostly as another method of annoying you. that one is used pretty sparingly though because it's a little over the top for the both of you. he definitely uses it a lot less than whatever his main nickname for you is, which he uses just about all the time lol. if you have a nickname based off you name, sam probably uses that, too. so, dean likes having a separate nickname that he came up with which only he uses.

and yes! he does use pet names casually and occasionally, but he's far more likely to use them if you're having a bad day, if you were injured on a hunt, or something like that! i think maybe this is just because i'm obsessed with the time that dean called lisa honey once, but i think the idea of dean calling his best friend honey is really adorable. that one is used for maximum comfort, especially if you're injured <3 "c'mon, honey. keep your eyes open, you're okay." i can also see dean using baby platonically sometimes!

he does occasionally use over the top names like sugar plum or honey bunches to annoy you lol. he will "sweetheart" you in a teasing way because he loves the way it makes you fume LOL. but in special circumstances, he'll call you sweetheart sincerely (also more likely when you're injured—"you're alright, sweetheart, we're almost to the motel"). idk if this counts as a pet name, but he'll definitely call you kid and kiddo if you're younger than him like how he does with charlie <3 i see him using darlin' very casually! "alright, c'mon darlin', let's see what sammy found." casual pet names means he's in a good mood though. he also will use insults like pet names because you're his idiot best friend <33

he won't tell you this but he likes if you've got a nickname for him, too! but he will tease you if you try to use the same pet names for him, even if you're casual about it in the same way he is.

⟢ taking care of you on bad/sick days : uhm yeah, he tries not to be obvious about it, but when he goes the the store just to pick up your favorite treat or kisses your forehead like fifty billion times when he thinks you're asleep, there's no way you can miss what a big softie he is. if the way you wear your hair allows, he'll brush any stray strands out of your face, especially if you're sick and it's stuck to your face with with sweat. checks your temperature on your forehead with his hand <3 then if he thinks you have a fever, he busts out the thermometer and takes your temp that way just to make sure you don't have to go to the hospital. he brings you your meds and lovingly bothers you about eating enough food. makes you watch movies with him lol

on days that are simply just bad, well, he's horrible with emotions, but he knows that pie and alcohol can fix almost anything (this is not true, but it still helps you to have a treat and a drinking buddy). while he's bad with emotions, he is absolutely more than willing to listen to anything you need to talk about. he's not sure how to tell you that he's there for you out loud, so he'll pour you another drink if you're not too drunk and rub your back with a soft, but firm hand. his go to phrase to comfort you is, "we'll figure it out," and it works because you know he really means it, and he says it in a soft and sweet tone that's quite rare for him.

⟢ physical affection : he can definitely be more reserved sometimes with touch, but he welcomes any physical affection that you initiate. if you purposefully stand shoulder to shoulder, he'll put his arm around you, and he'll certainly accept any hugs you have to offer. like you said, once he's even more comfortable and confident in your being around, he's much more open about swinging an arm around your shoulder and any given moment (especially because he can shove you around a little that way lmao).

he's definitely okay with the bed sharing, mostly because it's a necessity, though he tries to get you to share with sam much more once he realizes that you like each other because he can see sam physically become upset when you share with dean lmao.

movie nights are prime time for physical affection with dean!! i definitely agree that he puts his head in your lap first to annoy you, but when you don't bat an eye and start running your fingers through his hair, he's done for. he always is trying to get you to do it again, every time you watch something together, and that's when it gets annoying lmao, because he won't let you rest your head on his shoulder anymore or let you be the one to put you head in his lap. he'll make an exception if you're having a bad though hah. once again, he will dial down the cuddles if he can tell that it's bothering sam, but will absolutely not give up the physical affection with you because he thinks sam needs to get over it LOL. because, at the end of the day!! you'll always be his best friend, and he will always respect you and your relationship with sammy.

[yuwumeniji]

Luxiem & A Trace Of Wonder

WARNING: Please remember that I am writing about Luxiem based on their characters online and not of the people behind their vtuber avatars, thank you!

EXTRA NOTES: wuwuywuwywuw did i finally start writing again??? yes . do i have a new fixation on a bl novel???also yes so now im mashing these two interests of mine together... just like how i started this blog

GENERAL

a luxiem au based on 해의 흔적 (a trace of wonder)

for the sake of this au, they are from the same jp guild - Luxiem (the guild from the original is an sk guild, so since anycolor is jp, luxiem will fall under jp.... plus en is a very broad area... bear with me LMAO)

Luxiem are considered the top JP Guild and one of the top guilds worldwide

the source material IS from a BL novel, but there will be no mentions of romance for this post

i went a little chuuni to name the abilities ok i dont think the novel had that - im just cringe like that

dear god i did not proofread this but something definitely possessed me in order to write this out instead of whatever college essay i got due soon

BRIEF ATOW UNIVERSE EXPLANATION

ok so think of it as like a modern era rpg game - the awakened class of people refers to those with supernatural abilities and dungeons are areas in the world where treasure and strong monsters spawn (sometimes these dungeons are based on parts of history as well)

the awakened class makes up about 10% of the population

those who are awakened have access to these dungeons in order to beat them within a certain time frame with Class S dungeons being the most deadly

those who are awakened also form guilds in order to enter such dungeons and have jurisdiction over ones that spawned with the guild's country - no other country is allowed to interfere with another

those who are awakened have two abilities - one main and one hidden ; the hidden ability also comes with a penalty and should be used with caution as the power may interfere with every day life outside of combat/cause hindrance when dungeon crawling

for the powerscalling in the universe, it is from Class E (lowest) to Class S (highest) ; this works for both the classification of awakened people and dungeon ranking

the main abilities that are at least mentioned here are restorers, hunters, mages and healers ; 2/4 classes are combative while the others are non-combative, but still useful when dungeon crawling

i hope my shitty explanation gets you to read the novel/manwha so that you can understand it better LMAO

MORE UNDER THE CUT

❀•°•═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════•°•❀

IKE EVELAND

CLASSIFICATION: Class A Healer

MAIN ABILITY: Priest's Waterfall

ike has the ability to heal using his staff without using too much mana. however, he is restricted to water - by using other elements, he runs the risk of depleting too much mana before entering the boss' room in a dungeon.

his staff has the appearance of a large quill. no one knows the reasoning behind it as most staffs on the guild markets are stick-like

HIDDEN ABILITY: Darkness of the Deep

ike has the hidden ability to summon a powerful tentacle-like creature of nightmares. with this, ike switches classes - from non-combative to combative. however, the tentacle-like creature is sentient and moves on its own, ike has no control over what it hits. the creature is also considered to be a glass canon ; while it is powerful, it can only withstand attacks for so long and is on a time limit.

ike can only use his hidden ability when threatened ; he and mysta are the only non-combative members of the guild and this is his only way of protecting them both if no one else could not help.

PENALTY: everything he touches becomes an inky water

without mysta around, most solid objects around ike become an inky liquid that is as viscous as water if he touches it - it's strange, but definitely an inconvenience to his everyday life.

fortunately, his penalty does not harm humans

his strength lies in his durability and mana. he is also quite knowledgable of different types of potions and strengthening spells that help out with dungeon crawling

in fact, ike naturally houses the most mana within the guild followed by shu, mysta, vox and luca.

he originally came from a swedish guild overseas before his meeting with vox, who recruited ike with the promise of hatsune miku figures if he joined Luxiem (this is my attempt at humor)

ike is usually the one who gathers intel on their next dungeon - thanks to his quick reading speed and familiarity with mythos, ike predicts what would the location and boss of the dungeon with 99.99% accuracy

LUCA KANESHIRO

CLASSIFICATION: Class A Hunter

MAIN ABILITY: Heightened Strength

despite not wielding any kind of weapon, luca is proud of his brute strength - just one tap from him could reduce skyscrapers into dust clouds.

HIDDEN ABILITY: Shapeshifting

luca's hidden ability can only be activated if he has ingested a specific kind of gemstone - however with his hidden ability, he can only turn into a lion that possesses supernatural qualities for a short period of time

the lion is big btw ... just letting you know haha

PENALTY: Lion's Mane

with the penalty in place, luca essentially walks around with a huge lion's mane. he complains about how heavy it is and how the hair gets everywhere

unlike the other members, luca does not possess any magical strength - arguably he could just be a regular civilian who happens to possess superhuman strength; most of luxiem thought he was a civilian until they found out about his penalty

he also is proficient with long range weapons such as guns and arrows, but he is mainly the brawler of the group

while luca was originally scouted by vox to join, luca is actually the one who has the leadership role - the demon said that he prefers a more 'in the shadows' kind of role anyways and handed the position to luca; the guild members aren't sure if luca is actually aware of that, but they all appreciate the work and effort he gives towards the guild.

the guild luca was in has a partnership with luxiem and is currently being led by his older brother

MYSTA RIAS

CLASSIFICATION: Class A(?) Restorer

MAIN ABILITY: Restoration

after seeing a structure, mysta has the ability to 'restore' it to it's original state - for instance, if ike had turned a wardrobe into ink, mysta has the ability to restore the wardrobe's appearance and functionality before it was turned into ink.

mysta's true abilities is unknown - if anything, he has enough magical strength to bring life back

however, there are some ethical issues involving the restoration of life and is considered taboo for a restorer to interfere with the death of a living thing.

generally, mysta has the strength to restore even stadiums after an earthquake to its original form and functionality - it is possible that he may be a Class S, but no further assessment has been made yet

HIDDEN ABILITY: Medusa's Petrification.

this is the only ability mysta has that is allowed to be used on living creatures - he essentially turns things into stone rather than restoring them to its original state

the only way this ability is activated is when mysta experiences a very strong emotion such as fear or despair

he only has to look at the object or creature in front of him in order for it to turn into stone - fortunately, even with the hidden ability activated, he could still undo the process if he accidentally petrifies a guild member

PENALTY: Floating

for some odd reason, mysta's penalty is that he has no control over gravity - his body becomes weightless and therefore starts to float. he essentially becomes a balloon and many of the guild members just walk him around with a string attached to his belt so he doesn't fly off to who knows where before his penalty wanes off.

mysta was actually not part of a guild when he was scouted - in fact, he was working as an odd-jobs repair man who did small gigs in order to get by.

mysta also has the least amount of dungeon experience as he is of a non-combative class ; surprisingly enough, not many guilds seek restorers to join.

despite that, mysta is a highly sought out restorer due to his efficiency - buildings turned into rubble could be restored within a matter of seconds

he is also the only one in the guild who is responsible for the loot they earned and items each member brings into the dungeons

SHU YAMINO

CLASSIFICATION: Class S Mage

MAIN ABILITY: Summoner

as his main ability states, shu is a summoner who could gather up to Class A monsters to listen to him.

he also has the ability to call upon 'yokai'-classed monsters through the usage of shikigami ; this aspect of his ability is dependent on the amount of shikigamis he brings with him into dungeons.

HIDDEN ABILITY: God's Messenger

when activated, shu has the ability to call down one of japan's seven lucky gods to battle. this is randomized and he doesn't have the ability to choose which one will come help.

luckily for him, he doesn't have to worry about the gods not responding to him; no matter the call, they will answer.

depending on who is summoned, shu takes on the form of one of the seven lucky gods and uses their abilities in combat.

essentially, shu becomes possessed by the god he has summoned but does run the risk of being permanently possessed by them even though his combat ability is on a timer

the only problem with this ability is that this can only be activated if he senses that the danger is too high ; ideally in Class S dungeons where the survival rate is essentially 0%.

PENALTY: Inability to feel pain

this penalty could be proven fatal to shu as he would be numb to all kinds of pain - from the tiniest scratch to getting his heart ripped out ; it would be too late for shu to notice if anything bad happens to him.

this penalty is activated the minute he uses his hidden ability, thus putting his own life at an even higher risk of possession and even death

similarly to mysta, shu was not a part of a guild when he was scouted, in fact, he had been staying at his family's temple as one of the priests who carried out sacred rituals to protect his town from dungeons spawning nearby.

tragically, shu is one of the few guild members to experience loss through the dungeons.

when vox found him, he was surround by the rubble of what was originally his home town - the Class A dungeon wiped the town off the map. with no where else to go, shu decided to follow vox and the rest of luxiem.

shu often helps ike with intelligence and is often in charge of dungeons that originate in japanese mythos

he was the last member to be recruited - words of a powerful sorcerer had reached vox's ears, but he didn't expect to find him in that state.

despite the tragedy, shu is thankful for having met the boys of luxiem - he's glad to call them home

VOX AKUMA

CLASSIFICATION: Class S Hunter

MAIN ABILITY: Shadow Swordsman

vox is quite proficient with the sword, combined with the demon-like energy that festers within the shadows, he becomes an unstoppable killing machine

not only can he infuse the dark energy into whatever blade he is holding, he also has the ability to create a clone who wields the sword the same way he does

HIDDEN ABILITY: Divine Judgement

he has the ability to strike a mighty light into his opponents - it is a devastating ability that clashes with his already dark main ability

it can strike through the thickest material and destroy what is wicked ; often destroying the dungeon completely and automatically clearing it in order to avoid any more casualties.

it is another ability that can only be activated during dire situations, similarly to shu's hidden ability.

PENALTY: Temporary Blindness

as the light he summons is from the almighty, it does temporarily blind vox for a little while as punishment for using god's ability for his quest to find out what causes dungeons to spawn

the first and last time vox had his penalty in place, shu was the one who helps guide him around with the usage of his shikigami - on the other hand, luca was the one to pull pranks on vox while he's blind (vox can tell it's luca because of his laugh)

vox has the most dungeon crawling experience out of all the members of luxiem and is the one who recruited all of them to join his guild - he's happy to find such like minded people he could call home.

while his physical or magical strength doesn't exceed all members of luxiem, he is the most proficient and stable in terms of combat ; he has used his hidden ability only once in his entire career as a hunter

luxiem's leader in the shadows, while he doesn't take a direct leadership role, vox usually is the one who approves of or disapproves of luca's wild antics.

ok a lot of the times, vox does approve of luca's antics because "he's just being silly your honour" - only when the situation is that dire will he take matters into his own hands.

he's usually the one calling strategy meetings before going into dungeons

[yesimwriting]

Anastasia (prologue)

A/n ive been talking about my Anastasia x SOC story for awhile and im finally ready to post the prequel,, ive also been working on some requests and thinking about my next multi-part fic (ive made some posts about it lol)

things to know before reading: i tend to like to make up my own countries when writing these type of politically/plot driven fics that revolve around a royal family bc i think it makes it not only easier to write but less confusing bc it takes out the issue of potentially conflicting with canon, so i made up the country ‘Anastasia’ is from,, this also follows the musical Anastasia a little more bc i feel like that version of the story is more mature and easier to write for SOC (the only difference is that not everyone is happy that Anastasia is alive and someone tries to kill her bc they hate the royal family)

Series Summary: y/n makes an unconventional deal with Kaz to save the life of her best friend. No one’s ever made a deal with the infamous Dirtyhands that resulted in them shedding the title of orphan from a revolution-torn country that can’t remember her life before the orphanage and taking on the title of Princess Anastasia. As time progresses, things are made more complicated as y/n has to deal with royals, revolutionaries, a grisha general who has a lot to gain from an alliance with a princess that doesn’t know what she’s doing, and potential feelings for a conflicted Kaz Brekker that has more to do with Anastasia’s disappearance than he’s ever admitted. 

--

The world seems to be made up impossible things. Each day, people defy odds, strangers fall in love, the universe expands, and the Saints watch it all. I am not the kind of person to sneer at a miracle, to try to explain it away instead of acknowledging it for what it is. 

But what this stranger is proposing is laughable. 

I lean more into the chair, doing all I can to get away from the desk that he sits at. A nervous kind of giggle threatens to escape me, a laugh at the expense of the foolishness of the situation. If his demeanor was any less brooding, I would have already laughed at the irony. Kaz Brekker, the Dirtyhands, creating a ploy so colored by the fairytale notions of dreamers.

The longer I go without reacting, the worse this situation becomes. I haven’t seen Verne since Brekker and his people separated us. I can see the world of torment my eldest friend must be experiencing at this very moment while I sit at this desk. 

“Me?” I’m the most ridiculous part of his plan. He said the only reason me and my partner are still alive is because I fit the general description of the kind of person he needs, and if I’m blackmailed into it he won’t need to waste kruge paying me. “A princess?” 

He blinks, as uninterested and stoic as he’s been since he first ordered me into his office. “A pretend one,” his correction feels like a slight, “a surrogate one.” 

My eyebrows furrow together. “But what--I know the odds of the real Anastasia coming back are beyond slim, but if we’re caught in a lie the Dowager Duchess of Avila will have all of us killed. She may be in Ravka now, and her title nothing more than decorative due to the revolution, but she still has people loyal to her.” 

“Anastasia can’t come back.” The graveness of his voice is so certain a part of me has to wonder if he could have anything to do with her death. I dismiss the thought almost immediately, I don’t know his exact age, but he doesn’t look much older than me. He couldn’t have been more than two or three years older than Anastasia when she died, and she was a child at the time. “No one remains missing that long unless they’re dead.” 

I awkwardly scratch the back of my wrist, “You’re the expert here.” No--I did not just say that out loud. “Sorry--I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Not that thinking it makes it any better, but at least then you wouldn’t know and I’d seem like less of an idiot and I wouldn’t be talking about it right now, and just rambling at a really inconvenient time for me to just...” I cringe slightly, opting to stare at his desk instead of meeting his judgmental gaze. “Sorry, again. Normally Verne is here, and he just kicks me in the shin or something to shut me up.” 

“If you’d like to see what apparently is your only source of impulse control alive and in decent enough condition to kick anything ever again, you’ll agree to what I’m proposing.” 

I straighten my posture slightly, nerves and guilt twisting in my stomach. “I’m going to be as transparent as physically possible.” The warning is for both of us, the urge to hide all my weaknesses bubbling in my chest. “Mr. Brekker.” That’s awkward--what am I supposed to call him? “I’m a university student that’s only in Ketterdam because of an academic scholarship. I’m from somewhere average--I’m not from a place nice enough to give me the manners I’d need to pass as a girl who spent her fundamental years growing up in luxury and I’m not from a place grimy enough to make me a quick enough liar to make up for what I don’t know.” I inhale slowly, ignoring the sting of the flaws I laid out for a cruel stranger. “I’m not particularly graceful or sly or talented in any field that someone like you would value. The closest thing I have to talent involves things that can be tracked on paper. I wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight, I was just doing a friend a favor.” 

“You claim that you’re not a decent liar or a thief and yet your closest friend is one who believed himself talented enough to challenge me?” 

I resist the urge to shrink back into my seat. “This is Ketterdam, you try finding someone that doesn’t dabble in crime and ambition.” He does’t reply to my retort, which I think means I won. “Cards on the table, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to save Verne, but you don’t want me for something like this.” 

He pauses, jaw locked and eyes too stony for me to interpret. “Every flaw you just pointed out, every reason you think makes you unfit for this job, is exactly the reason I’m offering you this.” I keep a thousand questions to myself as I wait for him to continue. “Those used to lying lack the warmth that will be needed to sell this. The Dowager Duchess is a grandmother first when it comes to Anastasia, that’s why she’s offering so much gold. She, and the rest of the royals that desire to know what happened to Anastasia, want to believe the story I’m telling. If you present yourself as someone real and warm and you understand table manners enough to not disturb the serene picture they want, they’ll squint at ugly details until they disappear.” 

Wow. I know that he’s intelligent, but what he’s constructing is so much more bullet proof than I thought it’d be. “I’ll admit you’ve constructed an airtight narrative.” 

I know my approval means nothing to him, but it’s the most agreeable I’m willing to be. “A narrative the background you told me of fits perfectly.” I shouldn’t have answered all those questions he asked me earlier so honestly. “A child born in Avila who was sent to a Kerch orphanage due to a war-relief effort during the revolution. A faceless orphan who was found during the height of the revolution with no memory of anything before the morning she woke up in a hospital cot.” 

I say nothing. My skin burns in protest of someone knowing so much about me. He must take my silence as a sign of me teetering the line away from what he wants, because he then says, “your friend is fortunate, if things aligned a little less perfectly he’d be dead already.” 

Dead already. The words elate my heart in a way that pinches. He’s still alive. Verne is alive. “If I agree, you let me see him and then you let him go.” 

“If you need a contract to believe me, I can have that arranged.” The words have an almost mocking edge. I guess it’d be a little ridiculous to get an official contract drawn up for something so small. “If you at any point change your mind, I’ll do the same.” 

The threat is clear. I back out and Verne pays for it in blood. Verne’s safety is once again in my hand. This situation is much more precarious than Kaz Brekker wants it to seem. “You need me to do something that will literally last the rest of my life. Tiaras aren’t something you can slip in and out of.” 

“Yes, I’m forcing you to give up a life in the slums for a palace for your friend’s life. This must be a difficult choice for you.” 

I look down to avoid rolling my eyes. “It’s still permanent, and it’s large because at any point I could reveal the truth and take you down with me.” 

“Remember who you speak to.” His voice has turned to pure darkness. 

Don’t wince. Don’t wince. Don’t wince. “All I’m saying is that you’ve offered Verne’s life to buy my cooperation, but you have yet to mention the cost of my silence.”

His expression is sharp enough to draw blood. “The Dowager Duchess is old and sick, wait at most two years and you’ll have more gold than you could ever spend. The revolution took that family’s power, not the wealth the Duchess took with her to Ravka the night of the massacre.” 

I shift awkwardly. “I’m not trying to get kruge from you for me.” I fold my hands neatly on my lap to avoid fidgeting. “Verne--he’s beyond desperate for kruge, that’s why he risked angering you.” The urge to shy away threatens to break my resolve. I think of all the times Verne has saved me. “Let him keep what he tried to take.” The request is awkward from my lips. I’m asking for more when I should should be grateful any type of mercy came from him. Any type of offer. “Half. Let him keep half.” 

He’s silent for a long moment, weighing the implications of loss. “You’re already entitled enough to pass for royalty.” I don’t let myself shrink. “Deal, but not because you threatened me--try that again and you’ll find yourself wishing you had never left the orphanage you came from.” The relief is practically crushing. Verne is going to be okay. He’s going to live and my resistance earned him enough kruge to have a week or two without worry as he plans what he’ll do in my absence. “You better be as good a study as you made yourself seem to be.” 

I don’t understand the second threat. “Studying?” 

“You didn’t think you could wander into the Dowager Duchess’s home, use the excuse of amnesia to explain why you don’t even know your own mother’s name, and expect them to think you more than an Avilan orphan with a desire for wealth.” 

“I actually don’t know my own mother’s name because of amnesia.” 

He’s in no mood to be contradicted, glowering sharply, “not anymore, anything that doesn’t fit the narrative I’m constructing is no longer true.” He straightens slightly as he begins to pace away from me. “You’ll have five minutes with your friend and then we’ll see where your table manners are at. I know someone who knows enough to correct you.” 

I try to picture where someone like him would meet someone that knows about etiquette. My mind provides nothing useful, but it doesn’t matter--I’ve agreed. It can’t be undone, not without having the blood of my dearest friend on my hands. 

[rouiyan]

𝘖𝘝𝘌𝘙𝘊𝘈𝘚𝘛 𝘚𝘒𝘐𝘌𝘚 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘛𝘏𝘖𝘚𝘌 𝘞𝘏𝘖 𝘋𝘐𝘌 [ 𝘭.𝘫𝘯 ]

⧏ the second volume of rouiyan’s debut series, till death do us part ⧐

synopsis: “i will keep you,” he says softly, as sweet as black tea, “and i will keep you warm.” (Catherynne M. Valente, Deathless)

✧ prince!lee jeno x crown princess!reader ✧ royalty au

✧ genres : fluff, angst ✧ word count : 5.0k ✧ disclaimers : brief descriptions of nudity (nothing sexual), allusions to sex (nothing explicit), malintent

read volume one here: of the heart.

when the moon, in all her glory, begins to set, Mother Nature begins each new day by inhaling the misfortunes of the day before and blowing out frigid breaths in their stead. this morning is no exception for nothing is so clear as the wisps of fog that lie just beyond the horizon, a velarium of sorts, over the forest canopy. the sun is a little early today, but it is for naught, since its rays are caught between the tendrils of fog right as they begin to show. perhaps Mother Nature woke up in a bit of a fit today, seeing as the skies are already oozing the grays before the blues have yet to surface. Her fingers gently stir the clouds to ensure that they collide right where the earth most needs it and She's joyful in the sense that Her work can be admired from far down below. after all, the paintings She conjures in the skies are nothing short of masterpieces.

like a ceiling folding in with the pressure of water leakage, the clouds from down below give off an air of distress. the air itself is heavily encumbered with a clarity found only after the rainiest of days. and if not for the sake of the story, the author could spend hours droning on about Mother Nature's tour de force, she really would, but instead she will insert a few lines from a symphony: 

The autumn mist drifts blue over the lake,

The blades of grass stand covered with frost,

The flowers' sweet scent is gone,

An icy wind bends down their stems,

My heart is weary.

Der Einsame im Herbst (The lonely one in autumn), from Mahler’s Das Lied von der Erde

in the exact opposite sense that Mother Nature loves her leaves, with tender fondness and a forgiving hand, prince jeno's father has never loved his second son more, with an impassioned sneer and a bagful of riches in mind. at least, that is exactly what prince jeno himself thinks as he skims through yet another letter, this time from his father. 

son,

never did i think i would enjoy the prospect of a winter ceremony as much as i would this, perhaps you would also like to see an early coronation. i've made the necessary arrangements, i assure that you will not be suspected in the least but keep caution and wariness by your side, our family name is already a great deal tainted. thought not for long, i'll be sending a carriage to retrieve you for your rounds back home, we've ought to get going on them. the damsel is a sight for sore eyes, i presume, i'd hate for her to foil our ambitions; she is much in your hands to attend to now. i'll see you by the throne soon, my lad. 

king of the southern mines, your father.

the prince's vision narrows upon the words 'coronation, arrangements, suspected, foil, throne,' and he is already a sight of frustration, fingers gripping the paper with such force that his short nails are digging into his palms through it. seething, he tears his eyes from the script before him but instead, they land on the previous letter sat atop the open escritoire. the one from his mother. the stamped edge of the paper lifts with the wind that filters through the window just above it and he has the sudden urge to let it be carried away wholly. jeno crosses the room in four steps. 

with both the pages collected in his hands, jeno crouches by the mantle, the roar of a fire licking up before him. his face is drawn in concentration, jaw stiff and clenched. the lines of his brows are met with a furrow in between, set above the meek lines of his eyelids. his pupils dilate, albeit out of habitual need, in the reflection of the inferno before him. he's ever-so-aware of the distinct scent of burning coals that siphon and sharpen his reminiscence of home. it's sentient, the feelings of familiarity that overcome his senses, halting his movements, his fingers clutching the papers in a way that almost tells of longing. longing of a seemingly different world entirely, one that he has only ever known until a few weeks prior. being washed anew in distant lands and over the course of a single lunation, jeno finds that he's never felt more mismatched from himself, disconnected from the people who raised him in contrast to the people who have brought out the better in him. but the embers are not the only thing he smells, not the only he sees, or heeds to.

the pearly carrara marble of the mantle tells stories in the grayed lines that trail across its posh surface. his eyes rove over the white, the faith and purity of your heraldry binded with the emblem of your family. the white of angels, of untainted relations, sterility in empowerment, the inviolable you. the white tells stories that the black never could.

so jeno finds a warm pleasure in the way the flames overwhelm the papers with eager enthusiasm, the damned words of his parents receding into mere ash. prince jeno thinks he could forever part with the world if it asked him to feast his eyes on this very sight until the end of time. 

despite arousing before the sun, you are disappointed when it starts to chase your wakefulness. there is something edging the growing unease in your mind, as if time is trickling down the drain of the past, too fast and too unforgiving. as if time is berating at your senses, telling you there is much more than what meets the eye but for the life of you, you cannot pinpoint what. for now though, you tend to the pressing matters at hand, jeno has been called home for his rounds, rather abruptly.

"perhaps i should go with you, rounds don't always have to be made by one per-”

jeno cuts you off effectively, "they are very much a one person duty," he assures pointedly. your nose scrunches, the light inconveniences starting to rub off on your exasperation. in a tired voice you mumble, "we could always change it up a bit, i'm sure." jeno chuckles heartily at that, his hand coming up from his side to rub out the lines of stress in your forehead.

"little miss princess, you're saying that as if you do not have rounds to complete of your own. i'm almost certain you host are a far greater amount of people that wish to be invited to the ceremony than i have-"

it's your turn to cut him off now, "why don't you stay with me then?" in attempts to enhance the force of your resolve, you uncover a hand of your own from under the sheets to comb through his locks. the way his eyes instantly close to relish in your touch paired with the little purr he gives is almost telltale of your victory. almost.

jeno pauses, his eyes flicker back open, and a soft knowing smile runs along the features of his face as he shakes his head, in knowledge of your artful tactics to wear him down. "and neglect my kingdom and their desires?"

you've left the feelings of frustration behind, instead deciding to fool around with the boy, to see what you can get out of him for good fun, "but we've yet to decide what flowers to use as centerpieces. and whether we're throwing a private or public ball. wedding preparations are surely more important than handing out personal invites…we can cut corners one some niceties." jeno knows better than to let his guard down. the jeno around y/n isn't to be trusted as easily. he settles for words of comfort instead, "i'll write."

"well, that's of course. silly of you to voice something as unequivocal as that."

a pause and his resolve is slipping, "maybe a few short visits back wouldn't hurt." you lick your lips in good-natured fun, another pause, "i'm sure my father wouldn't half mind if we cut it a week short." your eyes look hazy to him, though in reality they are simply amused, and drawing words from him he isn't even sure he's saying. "or- or maybe i could convince him, or try to at least…," he trails on and on.

your satisfied a certain amount and, suppressing a smile from giving away your plotted schemes, you mutter quietly, mostly for your own pondering, "i'm thinking alliums would make a statement, blue alliums." jeno gives a noise of confusion, unsure of how you've suddenly come to talk of flowers. "the centerpieces, i mean." jeno's silence only urges you on, "alliums, or blue alliums at that, are symbols of unity and good fortune. i think that'd make a nice combination with a base of milkweed, dignity and freedom, if my memory serves me right."

the prince has found his voice, "what of the rounds?" but he's met with a small chortle, "nothing, a month is a month, i'm sure we'll work around it."

"but, i- i'm not sure i understand. you were adamant enough a millisecond ago, and now-"

"and now i'm telling you i was toying with you, dear sir. such fun it is when you let on more than you'd like."

jeno's cheeks flush, the warm color dusting the bridge of his nose, apples of his cheeks, tips of his ears. your warm smile and benign banter bring him the simplest of joys. he's not sure he's ever felt this way before. familiarity. and, not the familiarity that comes from his assigned butler since birth, or the old lady at the apothecary he's been to all his life that's paid to tend to his wounds. not the familiarity that comes with blood and playing house, the type of sickened familiarity he feels with his brother, doyoung, that every second spent with him is forced. the familiarity he feels with you is by choice, by genuine and sincere desire. you want to wake up in the mornings with him by your side. you want to spend breakfast pushing each other's toes away underneath the table. you want to hold his hand when he walks you to your carriage. you want to make love with him in the most ungodly hours of the day. which is exactly what happens that morning.

a day is barely enough to do all the things you've penned in your journal. things to be done before you were to be married, with the one you were to be married to. the list had been written, curated, and refined by nine-year-old you, who you must say, had some very good ideas, though verily a romanticist. 

jeno is departing tomorrow morning, as early as the sun will permit, and suddenly you wish that it would never rise again. whatever the case, you set out first thing this morning, hand tugging along a very tired prince, for the bathing pool. nine-year-old you must have misinterpreted the meaning of 'skinny dipping' for swimming but you thank nine-year-old you because things seem to have worked out in your favor either way. jeno is jolted awake by the gelid water, the seasons now mark three-quarters into fall. 

"go in first," you state simply, hands on your hips and eyes drawn down into the water. the single toe you had dipped in to test the waters is frigid and frozen. jeno, who has yet to finish undressing himself, nodded at your words. if he were looking in your direction he would've noticed the smirk on your face. he stands straight, boxers on the ground behind him as he takes place by your side, "cold?"

"not at all, surprisingly," he's looking at you now and your countenance can't help but decompose in front of him, a small, unsuspecting smile adorning your lips. "oh really, can you attest for that?"

the smile is now blossoming unto your cheeks, "are you telling me to go in first?" the prince nods at that, fully aware of your schematics, "yes, i would like to see you enter the warm water."

"you agreed to go in first just a few seconds ago, don't tell me you've backed out on your word," a feeble matter against the boy but he defends himself by saying, "devious little princess, as if this wasn't your idea."

you're equally defensive when you point out, "not me, directly, but rather me as a child-" he pushes you in. lee jeno, second prince of the esteemed southern kingdom pushes you into the subzero degree bathing pool.

assuredly though, he dives in a few seconds after he's had time to relish in your shocked expression and piercing screams. he's coming up for air, his hands have found your bare hips to make sure that you resurface together. or drown together, you think, because it seems his foot is caught in the crevices between two rocks and since he's writhing like a madman, you're writhing with him too. it's a strange sight, two very beautiful individuals, absolutely in love but absolutely inane, for if jeno had thought to let go of his grip on you, you might've been able to unlodge his foot altogether if he had not been set on wrangling both your bodies about.

it's four minutes later that the two of you are on the leveled bronze rock, now, absolutely loosing it over jeno's lack of common sense. both of you are having trouble breathing, spurts of water still occasionally gushing past his lips. he thinks you're most beautiful in your bare skin, with nothing to define you but yourself. he's running his fingers up and down your torso, lips connecting with the surface of your neck. he appreciates that you kiss him with such avidity, you always do. jeno loves that you make it known to him, that what you say, you mean. and that even if you were never to utter a word again, he would still understand the sheer vehemence with which you love him.

you cross off paragliding, building a snowman, and studying together for a test. not because they've been completed but because there simply is no plausible way to get them done with the deadline closing in fast. the next activity you present to jeno has his eyebrows raised in intrigue. he's quick to reply when you ask him. 

"a moon, a quartered moon." the knowing smile that grows on your face tells him he's chosen correctly.

jeno gives a squeeze to your hand as the needle comes in contact with your clean skin. the first few minutes are highlighted by the sensation of a million bee stings, racking through your brain, but the rest is relatively smooth sailing. yours comes out just as good as jeno's, a small moon, a quartered moon, tattooed into the skin just behind the left ear. there specifically, so that it's known by each other and each other only. 

there will be months passed before the moon becomes a sort of unspoken but affirmative communication instrument. when jeno loves you a little too much, he rubs the inked skin softly. his sleepless nights are cured with the pad of your finger upon the spot. between the many general meetings you're required to oversee in a day, jeno waits outside the conference room for you to exit, his fingers stroking the moon for the duration of the few seconds allotted to him before you're whisked away again. the symbol of night is translated into accounts of bonding, the smallest of things giving way to happiness. 

you would say the uses of the 'lovemark' are amplified as the sun retreats and the mascot of your relationship shines brighter than ever. it's evident in the look on jeno's face, especially, a few feet below you, peering up your skirt with a dumbstruck look on his face. 

"jeno, dear, now is really not the time." the boy clears his throat and looks away, baffled at how you'd caught him anyways. your position is so frightfully awkward, one foot on the top end of your chamber's windowsill, another bent and hoisted onto the flat ledge of your roof. "come on up now, and get those dirty thoughts out of your mind. for heaven's sake, we're here to watch the sunset and stargaze, not to pound into each other."

the prince laughs at your offhanded remarks, arriving himself on the platform. the view is expansive in the way that you can see the forest from here, the ocean if you squint, the hills set in the far distance, and the sky has never felt closer to the earth while the things you've always known to be near appear smaller and more distant than ever. even the gregarious tree stalks of the forest rise to what could be measured as an only inch from this outlook. 

"nine-year-old y/n seems to have known nothing but fun days." jeno muses, leaning his weight back upon his hands. your eyes are glazed in an omniscient mist, "i'd expect so, she was born and raised with everything." the prince picks up on the tone of distaste with which you'd spoken your words. he turns to you and studies the hairs that fall in your eyes, "hardly fair."

you reply not a beat after, "not at all fair. if i were to accomplish one thing during my run as queen, i'd give the children opportunities of a lifetime." the thoughts tumble out of your mind, as if you'd known of this conviction of yours since you were but a child. your drive as a ruler, firm and headstrong to implement your values and beliefs on your subjects has been the sole idea that's grounded you in the castle for your entire time being.

"and what if you cannot?"

your first reply is dealt with in humble humor, "at the very least, i'd like it to be engraved on my tombstone that i tried." the second, is laden with a sorrowful undertone, "housing, schooling, meals and warmth in the winter. we have it the worst here up north. if they are without school, they are left with nothing." jeno's head turns to yours, he sees the slip of a tear and he wipes it away, only to be met with another. your voice cracks in despair, "there are no mining jobs to take up, no farms to harvest, aqueducts to run. i dread that one day i must rule a kingdom of arts."

jeno tries, he really does, to gather you in his arms but your sobs rack your body with such force that he is left to comfort your desolations with words and a hand on your back, "what is there to dread? are the arts so difficult to maintain?"

bitterness forms at the tip of your tongue, "no, jeno. i regress in the face that art is invaluable. but the world seeks to attach a price to every viable thing, to label the passion of others. and now, now the arts are for the rich, only for the rich. have you ever heard of a hungry man paint instead of seeking shelter from the rain? a woman who writes prose instead of feeding her dying children? there is no one who can live solely on art but the heavens have sent me to rule a horde of those very people."

the prince knows you need to voice the thoughts weighing down your mind, so he gives them a platform, a nudge, "a kingdom of arts would be blessed to house a queen with intentions such as yourself, surely there are others who hold the same principles as you." 

"no doubt," your eyes cast on the forming stars, "but as much as i would love to trail a path of meliorism and say that with a tide of willingness, there will be change, i must not forget the real nature of the world we live in."

"and what is this nature that you speak of?"

"the drive of greed and sadism, in exchange for the feeblest of pleasures."

the world comes to a still in this very moment. the moon begins her ascent. the stars unsheath their full luminance. the whites of their gleam reflecting on the rooftop on which the two of you are sat. time and space shrivel in the potency of untainted humanity.

"we will bring change, you and i."

you feel your heart calm as your rambling ceases. jeno looks over at you and smiles.

prince jeno is scheduled to return in twenty seven days time. there is something that feels wrong about him leaving. a feeling that if he leaves, all hell with turn loose and you will be unleashed unto the dogs for ravaging. there is a coated and unspoken thought that splutters in your mind whenever you even dare so much as to begin to think of it. the possibility that with jeno's leave, you'll be left with the realization that it was all a phase of infatuation. that when you see him again, all the feelings that you'd built up over the course of a month and a few days was just a glamourized dream. that he was never real; the real that you needed.

"i'll be forever thinking of those lips on mine, maybe even missing them," you let, comically. jeno eyes you conspicuously, "and i'll be forever thinking of you, as a whole, not just the lips unlike you. a little fixated you sounded there, mind you." his little sniggers are given in response to your hands pushing his chest in frisky response. the prince pulls you closer into a final embrace, the coachman of his black carriage is awaiting his departure. 

he parts from you and you can't help but trail behind him down the paved path. he's over his shoulder now as you let loose a sliver of your deepest worries, meekly, "i hope we never change, jeno."

the prince halts at the bottom steps that curl into the palace. he sees you, feels you, knows you, for he quotes, “i will keep you,” he says softly, as sweet as black tea, “and i will keep you warm.” (Catherynne M. Valente, Deathless)

jeno can hear the light pellets of raindrops hit the roof of his carriage. the gray skies are darkening by the second, it's telling him something that he's sure he doesn't want to hear. his fingers fiddle with the cuffs of his tailored suit jacket, something you'd requested be made for him when his stay was first prolonged. the prince is entirely clad in white and he knows enough to imagine the face his mother will make when she first sees him home. lee jeno doesn't remember a time when he's donned a color other than black, but somehow, the white doesn't feel too far from home. 

with the white, his mind flashes with the events of the past month or so spent in your noble abode. you, on the other hand, rarely ever wore a color other than white, the most differing shade being a cream or beige. but even with all the lights, you never seemed to mind when they were dirtied. almost always, a day in the fields or by the bathing pool would drench a good six inches of your skirts in mud and the unfurled hems of your frocks or crinkled fronts of those sweaters you so often adorned were always beyond your notice. you were free in that way, never stopping to fuss over the little things you deemed unimportant. jeno thinks if he could live that way too and though he isn't sure if he can, he knows he wants to.

jeno can hear the spindles of the carriage gyrating with added resistance against the now watered-down mud of the trodden roads. his eyes are caught in the sky that looks as if it's to detonate at any given second. he predicts the thunder before it rings loud in his ears and he hears the coachman slash a whip to a trepid horse, an echo of the natural phenomenon. he wonders what it would feel like to be the coachman, out in the clamorring downpour, or perhaps the horse, blindlessly running to the crack of a whip, or the trees even, awoken by the threat of a fire. he wonders if he has any desire to be the lightning itself, to jab at the delicate foliage as he'd like, to set fire to that of which he doesn't like, to wield destructive power. he wonders, but he knows he doesn't want to.

lee jeno is in his carriage when he realizes what it means to be free, but not in the hindrance of others. he realizes what it means, not to rule but rather to guide without the oppression of others. lee jeno is also in his carriage when the skies turn black and a deluge of rain is unleashed upon the castle of white. 

a man a few inches brief to the prince, but of higher rank in swordsmanship, is propped on the limestone trellis that holds the awning in place, his two feet hooked between the vertical balusters of stone and fingers clung onto the ridge of the balustrade. he finds it ludicrous that every individual of importance he has ever met, is so caught up in their own belief that they are untouchable, where in reality they are the most vulnerable of all. he thinks this, specifically, as he upturns himself over the railing and onto the landing, only to see that the king's door are left wide open, the only shield of protection being the pristine white curtains glinting a sheen of blue in the moonlight. 

renjun is humored when, upon drawing the curtains back, the king himself is simply laying there on the ground, unconscious as he was informed he'd be. the knight presses two fingers to the inner wrist of the withered man and finds that he still has a job to finish. brandishing a blade from the underside of his calf, he deems the inscription on the handle fit for the deed. he drives it into the gut but makes quick work of it, the sputters of blood that erupt from the now-awakened royal something he wishes the guards just outside not to hear. renjun makes further assurance that the blade is firmly put in place, the stout palladium shaft protruding from the king's abdomen like the ring of a windup toy. 

a black body bag is used to sheath the quickly-paling bag of bones. it is left under the light of the moon, through a skylight rounded in the dead center of the palace. around the malefaction, stairs wind in all directions from the ground up and if there were even one maid to have crossed the landing once in the night, she would have been met with what looked to be an unassuming trash bag. but fate had it so the sun would rise before your dead father was stumbled upon, an inscribed shank planted between his internal organs reading, this star-like solitude (Giuseppe Ungaretti, from Last Choruses for the Promised Land: XVI (tr. by Patrick Creagh)).

the blood that seeps from the measly opening in the bag is not silver, nor is it gold. it is blood red. the red of a brazen senex that perhaps preceded and proceeded his times, entangled in the intricacies of the new age, the new game of politics he simply had no means to play at. akin to the webs of an arachnid, the string of fate hung around his neck, thin and unnoticeable, cinching with each passing second until Mother Nature deemed his time up. the blood that seeps writhes in the rays of the sun, twines like the veins in the marble beneath it. it seeps until the figure in the sack is drained and the clumping skin of human remains is the same shade as the white tiling. red against white, white against black, the black of a crying sky.

read volume three: dearly departed.

copyright © 2020 rouiyan all rights reserved.

✧ end note — i had such a hard time trying to pull this outta my ass in a way that captures everything i wanted to say. so thank you for reading this piece. it’s one of my most favorite things i have ever written, undoubtedly.

[fumingspice]

guardians

original work! im bored to death and i have nothing much to do so i guess maybe i could post this and see if people like it or not. mallorie whyte is sarah paulson 🤜👱🏻‍♀️

01 | oakwood academy

october 24th 2022

eli, ma. andromadex

-Madison

THE FINAL WORDS that Madison's stepmother Inez had jokingly yelled out the car window at her before she sped off to work were fairly sticking with her all throughout the day. She had driven at neck-breaking speed as she often had a habit of doing, and then braked so hard that she probably would have given any other passenger in the car a pretty bad whiplash, which Madison was convinced that Inez is immune to it by now, and then rolled down her window and told her; "y’know, if you want to actually make some friends you should really quit acting so bitchy."

Mind you, this was after she had gone on at her for days on end about being herself.

Madison was not opposed to making friends at this school. She wanted to. It's just so difficult when the fantastic, gold-crested reputation of your parents follows you around everywhere you go, and it's even worse when everyone else in your school completely matches that reputation.

To her, there's nothing worse than extra-cred class. She could promise you that. Especially when there are only fifteen more minutes left of the school day until the school bell rang sweet salvation and the students were released from the clutches school for another day. The classroom was decorated in crisp oranges, reds, yellows and browns; and the smothering scent of the ten-plus pumpkin spice candles could probably be smelt from miles away.

Madison's teacher, Ms. DuBois, was from Salem, and she loved nothing more than talking about witches in Salem. DuBois continued to rattle on about the executions that took place during the Salem Witch Trials of 1692- and since they were in Eli and not Salem, Madison could not fathom a single plausible reason as to why her extra-cred class had decided to adopt the Salem Witch Trials.

Oakwood Academy, Madison's new school, had managed to work its way to having one of the top academic records in America by providing an extra area of study for every year that a student attended. It was just one of the classes that would act as a "relaxer" for the workload that the Academy dumped on their students. They allocated five sets of twenty-five students to five different classes. For example; her older brother was allocated into a class that studied some of history's most famous serial criminals. The girl had been hit with a low-key pang of jealousy when she looked at his workbook, but she would never admit that.

Serial killer documentaries from Buzzfeed Unsolved was for her what World War II was to her brother Tiano.

Halfway through the class, Madison decided that Ms DuBois' babbles were nothing more than folklore and legends. There is no possible way that witches could exist, and even if they did; they would have become so sparsely spread out throughout the centuries that bloodlines would have become diluted into non-existence.

Madison had finally just about given up listening, getting ready to switch to her earphones when DuBois began talking about Gwendoline Proctor and Marie-Anne Dufosett. Judging by the amount of borderline useless word scrambles and pop quizzes that she had been bombarded with since August in which their names had popped up in, this would no doubt be just as bleak as the rest of the topic.

"Marie-Anne Dufosett was burned at the stake along with her mother and some other accused women-"

Well, that's just peachy.

"-However, does anybody know who accused Mademoiselle Dufosett of Witchcraft and Conspiring with the Devil?"

A few hands shot up. Oh, great, Madison thought, another room full of Hocus Pocus lovers.

DuBois picked on a boy at the back of the room wearing a black turtleneck underneath his blazer. "Perrone Goguillon," he answered.

Well, at least I know that instead of how to pay taxes.

Ms DuBois clapped her hands together and was about to praise him when Madison poked her head up and blurted out, "who in fresh hell is Peregrine Goujon?" The class burst into a peal of abrupt laughter and her face flashed a red that was possibly close to her burgundy uniform.

DuBois waited patiently for the laughter to die down, giving Madison a well-intended smile. She'd been trying to pry Madison out of her shell for weeks. "Miss Delvaux, I'm so happy that we've finally been graced with your conscious presence," she said. "Perrone Goguillon was one of the last witches to burnt at the stake in France."

What has that got to do with Salem?

There was a pause.

Turtleneck Boy piped up yet again. "Wasn't Perrone Marie-Anne's mother?"

Ms DuBois nodded, what followed probably should have been a moment for shock factor was cut short by Madison's unimpressive comment of; "Sounds like someone gained some serious mommy-issues."

Apart from a few smirks and sniggers, the room stayed in a star awkward silence. It was that moment when Madison had realised that making fun of witches in this classroom was possibly as close as you could get to treason.

The bell finally rang out before Madison could embarrass herself any further. She pulled on her coat and started speed-walking to get out of the school. She found listening to Toxic by Britney Speers always made her faster.

The crisp Massachusetts air stung at her cheeks hard, nipping at them until they were a hard red. The leaves crunched with a prominent sound and the wind blew quite fiercely. She hated fall- she missed the sweet Florida summer and sunshine that she had become so accustomed to. She missed splashing about in their swimming pool with her friends, sitting on her boyfriend's shoulders and having matches of pool basketball. They could get very competitive and Madison was certainly no stranger to having her head pushed underwater for the sake of one of her friends scoring a goal.

Her family had just moved to Massachusetts for her stepmother's work, as they often had moved around for that reason numerous times in the past. Inez worked with companies that were hanging on the edge of bankruptcy. A quick call to her office and she would work on the case as soon as possible. Most cases she could work on from home or online, but every few years a huge opportunity or promotion would come up that would require a move. It was always worth it. Inez was a wizard with a logbook and her incredible finances knowledge; she would advise the company and work with as many people as possible to save the company and boost its profits massively. 

The job also came with a pretty hefty paycheck. Inez had been in Madison's life for as long as the girl could recall memory.

Now that the latest- and hopefully final- addition to the Delvaux family had come, Madison's father spent most of his time at home taking care of baby Thomas. In contrast to Inez, Madison's father came from a long line of "old" money; decades ago, his family was incredibly wealthy Franco-Belgian gold merchants, owning around 40% of the most flourishing gold mines in Belgium and France of which together bestowed them with a huge amount of the finest Belgian gold. Although the number of which lowered to about 750 tons of gold, the family net worth was still well into the billions.

Madison's father broke away from the complete gold-mine owning tradition and earned a job as a professor of physics in certain prestigious colleges across the country, although, there were still plenty of goldmines still to his name.

However, despite their needless fortune, most of the family, along with Inez, managed to stay incorrupt, helping to build many schools, hospitals and jobs in developing countries and donating thousands of millions of dollars to charities, side-lining with the Delvaux-Proveux Foundation to help create a better society with whatever difference they could cause.

Her parents did their best to remain humble- which sometimes proved itself difficult when the next five generations of their family could probably eat from solid gold plates if they chose to.

Needless to say, they spent only what they needed to, didn't exploit their riches, lived in the slightly more luxurious suburban homes. Madison was sent to Oakwood Academy; possibly the most unnecessarily expensive school in the north-east of America along with her adopted older brother Tiano and her adopted little sister Safina; the second youngest, Aleja went to an elementary not far from their home, and baby Thomas just did his best not to poop his pants straight after his diaper had been changed. Madison was convinced he did his best to poop at the worst possible time.

The house they had recently moved into was a beautiful country mansion, overlooking a lake and meadows, the balcony that showed a complete view of the landscape was perhaps Madison's favourite part of the house- apart from her bed of course.

She walked briskly up the pathway leading to the front door, doing her best to not show that she was absolutely freezing to death despite the massive coat. No sooner had she got in the door that she turned the heater on full blast and ran upstairs, diving into her bed.

Inconveniently, she was now too warm.

Madison rolled her eyes and then rolled out of bed with a slight thud, ran downstairs, lowered the heating, then ran back upstairs again- now at a slightly more satisfactory temperature. Her phone began to buzz; an incoming facetime from her friends back in Florida.

Madison jumped up promptly, fixing her hair and trying to make it look like she wasn't considering an attempt at home-made abseiling down the wall beneath her window. She accepted the call and lo and behold the screams and squeals of five of her best friends burst from the phone from on the other side of the country. Meghan, the girl in front and centre, called out Madison's name with an ear-piercing screech.

"Woah, Woah. Calm down, Meghan I'm not hoping to go deaf anytime soon," she muttered, pretending to be annoyed, making a particular fuss of changing the settings on her hearing aid. Meghan playfully rolled her eyes and began talking over the other girls. 

"Oh, shut up, Maddie. How's Massachusetts? Find any cute warlocks that we need to come out and see?" She asked. 

"Meghan, this place is amazing and beautiful- there's so many other things here than witches and warlocks and Harvard's array of nerds," she said, pretending she didn't want to hop on her tricycle and go home. 

To be truthful, it was obvious that Meghan could see straight through the blatant lie. 

"Well, if you say so, babes. Give us a tour of your house! We need to see chez Madison after stalking it for an hour on Google Maps."

Madison gave a hearty chuckle. "Well, if you insist."

Madison began her own rendition of a virtual tour around her house, showing everything from the luxury bathrooms to the heated pool in the basement. The ooooooo's and ahhhhhhhhh's were constant. The house was beautiful- that was undeniable. However, the crowning glory of the house was a massive stain-glass window depicting a woman by the lake.

"The realtors said that the builder of the house had it built in 1876 to memorialize the women persecuted and killed during the witch trials," Madison said, admiring the beautiful display of colours on the floor from the sun shining through the window. 

"That's cheery." 

That's typical Meghan.

"Now, more important than your sexy house; are you or are you not coming to prom?" Meghan asked, expectantly.

Madison shrugged, "I'm not sure, we only just got here, and I don't think my parents would want me flying across the country all by myself."

Meghan let out a slightly satisfied sigh. "So, does that mean Dylan is now free for me to take as my date?"

Madison gritted her teeth hard. Only forever has Meghan been trying to steal Dylan away from her. "Sure, as long as it's just as friends," she answered, fully emphasizing the word "friends".

Meghan laughed emptily. "Well, how else would I be taking him? Trust me, Maddie baby, if I wanted Dylan so bad, I would've gotten him months ago." There was a coy smile and awkward glances shared by the others.

Madison bit her tongue.

"Yeah?" She called out into the empty house. "Coming now, Nez!" She looked back at the screen, told them, "talk later, gals, Nez wants me to help her in the basement," and hung up without waiting for a response, already knowing that Meghan would be commenting on how strange she was acting.

Madison and Meghan had been stuck to each other's waist since pre-school, grew up in close neighborhoods, and had practically been raised together. One time, Madison's family took Meghan to Disney Land, then straight to Universal Studios after. To say they were spoiled rotten in childhood because of the Delvaux family wealth was an understatement. It was only now approaching adult years was Meghan taking full advantage of her best friend's wealth- hinting off about getting her into Yale or Harvard, Madison smiled and nodded when she brought these things up, knowing full well Meghan didn't hold enough brain cells to even use a dishwasher.

The jangle of keys and the opening of the door sounded from downstairs. "The party's home! Maddie honey, you here?" Inez called, audibly struggling with grocery bags. "Coming!" she called back, skipping down the stairs two steps at a time. Inez relieved herself of one of the six bags she had carried from the car. 

"When are you going to learn to walk down the stairs without the risk of breaking your damn neck?" she asked, walking to the kitchen and setting half of the bags on the counter, and doing the same with Maddie's bags. Madison laughed and shook her head, "when we confirm that the birds don't work for the bourgeoisie." 

Inez rolled her eyes and pulled Madison into a hug. "Well, in that case, I may as well buy a neck brace and put the hospital on speed dial."

Madison gave a real laugh this time and pulled away, throwing a damp washcloth at Inez's face. "Megan facetimed me earlier with Linda, Karlie, Houston, Seoul and London.

Inez pulled a face, "yeah, and how did that turn out?" Madison sighed, "she asked me if she could take Dylan to prom."

Her stepmom stopped unpacking and lurched into deep thought. "Why are all your friends named after cities?" Madison was about to continue when she stopped to think about the question. 

"Back to the topic, Nez."

Inez’s eyes widened in shock. "She did not, did she?" Madison nodded carefully, bracing herself for Inez launching into a huge monologue, as she often did when something morally wrong happened. "After everything that we've done for that girl- everything that you've done for that girl, this is how she repays you?" Inez barely stopped to breathe. "She has known about our plans to move here since last Summer! The sneaky little bug kept this behind your back and knew it would be safe to tell you that she was going to steal Dylan from you as soon as you were a safe distance away-"

Madison promptly stopped her, knowing this could and would go on all night. "I'm not as bothered as I should be, Nez. Dylan and I were drifting even before the move. I think this is just my final sign that we just aren't meant to be- God, I always knew nothing serious would become of Dylan and me," she admitted, sipping on a diet coke that Inez had just slid down the countertop. Her stepmother pursed her lips, her incredible dark brown eyes glazing over as they always did when she fell deep into thought, as Madison often admired them doing so when she was trying to find a solution to a particularly difficult business situation, then, within seconds, bounced back out of it once again.

Inez presented an envelope to Madison, addressed to her. "Well, this might bring your spirits up at least," she placed in front of Madison. "I just know it is what it is."

Madison's jaw dropped as she read the letter.

Months ago, while they still lived in Florida, Madison's tutor convinced her to take part in a writing competition. The competition was hosted by one of New York's most prestigious publication companies, namely by their founder; Mallorie Whyte, possibly one of the most sought after and revered journalists in the Western Hemisphere. Madison completely worshipped the woman. Whyte being a first generation French American was the main factor in inspiring Madison to learn the language; not for the benefit of her Senegalese brother.

But he did not need to know that.

Inez spoke again, mainly just to make sure that Madison hadn't become paralyzed from shock. "Is she telling you to buy a damn dictionary or was your spelling fine?” Inez teased. There was no response, but Madison was finished reading, and Inez became heart-scared that she would lick the page.

Madison was dumbfounded for a few more seconds. "I got first place in the contest. She wants me to come to New York and meet her! Bloody hell, she thinks I could help her out with new ideas?" Maddie took another break before screaming the house down. "The Mallorie Whyte wants me because she thinks I could help her-"

She completely froze up in shock, her frightened stepmother running behind her in case she fell backwards. "Three weeks?!" Madison screeched, loud enough to wake up the dead. Inez almost jumped from her skin, laughing when she recovered.

"Three weeks, Maddie! We have plenty of time," she attempted to reason, even though trying to calm Madison down when she was as excited as this was next to impossible.

Madison looked highly offended. "Three weeks? Do you see the state of this house? It needs to be perfect!"

The house was next to gleaming spotless.

Inez rolled her eyes and tugged Madison's belt loop as she was about to run into the hall. In her lifetime, she had met many people that she could consider crazy, but no one came as close to her stepdaughter when she was fangirling over Mallorie Whyte. "Yes, honey that's all well and good," Inez said, attempting to calm down the lunatic in front of her, "but in the meantime, I want you to tidy your bedroom, do your homework and do some studying."

Madison nodded obediently, grabbed her Cola, and ran upstairs, careful not to spill anything on the grey carpet. The fragrance of her apple blossom burning in an incense bowl wafted around the room, and her speaker was set to play music from her playlist when it detected motion in the room. The past few moments of excitement had wiped what had happened before the letter out of her mind.

Dylan.

Meghan had practically taken Dylan away from her- not that she cared, not now anyway. Mallorie freakin' Whyte had sent her a handwritten letter for Christ's sake, she wasn't going to be moping over a boy that her supposed best friend has had her eyes on for months. She had known since before announcing the move that the boy was falling under Meghan's spell, she had seen it; the messages, the winks and the giggles, the almost-too-close kiss under the stairway. She was never ignorant to the fact that there was something between Dylan and Meghan going on behind her back- they were both horrible liars and barely tried to cover it up- she just did her best to pretend nothing had happened.

It's not as if she wasn't the jealous type- she used to be- Dylan had been around most of her friendship group while she was crushing on him. She had just grown an indifference to seeing him flirt with other girls. She had grown used to it.

The notification of her computer sounded, distracting herself from her slightly depressing thoughts. It was an email notification, from Mallorie Whyte herself. Madison almost fainted at the sight of it. Not only had she just received a written letter, but she had also taken time to contact online. Madison caught her breath at the possibility of having a conversation with this woman three weeks before they met, she opened the email, scanning every word;

Madison,

I apologize for reaching out to you in such an informal manner, but I just couldn't wait to get into correspondence with you sooner! Your entry into our contest here at Whyte’s Journalism and Publications utterly rocked my soul at the core, your work blooms amazingly at your young age.

The reason I picked your entry was that after many hours of reading and re-reading hundreds of thousands of entries, I realized that yours spoke to me in a way that no other one did. The beauty of your language and knowledge of how our world and society works touched me in a way no other did- heart-breaking, yet somehow warming, in the same way, to know that there are still people in this world who still have a love for life.

I noted in your information folder that Halloween was your least favourite holiday- a complete juxtaposition of my own opinion. Samhain is the best time of year- and I am excited to spend this glorious time of year with you and your family starting next weekend, as I've just finished sorting arrangements with Ms. Inez.

Best regards and wishes, and excitement to meet you,

Mallorie Whyte.

Inez smiled to herself from downstairs, setting her drink down and running up the stairs having heard the rather obvious sound of Madison's delighted squeal and subsequent crash on the floor.

[yhmisun]

*//𝒇𝒊𝒍𝒆: introducing 𝐘𝐄𝐎 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐍!

hi petals 🥰 i'm so thrilled to be here with you all and bringing you this gullible little lioness!i promise i'll get to all ims soon, but my alias is penny, my pronouns are she/her and i'm in the est tz! this is my bby misun - the very soft-spoken principal of kwangsook academy. despite the shady way she ended up with it, she quite loves her job, as well as all the students and faculty at kwangsook :D i will have her full bio up sometime soon, but for now, you can find some relevant links and some bullet points under the cut! if you'd like to plot something out, feel free to hit the heart so i know and i'll come buzz you in ims! tw - brief mentions of death cw - workplace affair

statistics. // bio. // headcanons. // plots. // musing blog. // pinterest.

━  ❖ (kim ahyoung “yura,” cis female, she/her) hey thank you for coming to town hall to update your information yeo misun! you’re a citizen correct? good to know! are you enjoying yourself around yunhwa? you’ve been staying here two years right? i’m glad! remind me, are you born on 14/12/1992? we’re so lucky to have someone so dedicated around as a principal at kwangsook academy even if sometimes you can be credulous. hope to see you around the house #3034, hwesakgu!

born and raised in busan, the city was imbued in misun's veins. she was in love with how the highest skyscrapers mingled with the clouds on overcast days and how life always seemed to be racing by. her childhood was a happy one, as she gained a younger brother and sister along the way.

her mother was a science teacher and her father a commercial fisherman at the local dock. it wasn't uncommon for him to be gone for weeks at a time in order to bring an income into the household, so misun was often left in charge of her younger siblings. it was something she thrived at honestly, as she'd always had this nurturing way about her. she didn't even argue with her siblings much, she mostly just played peacekeeper when they fought amongst themselves.

she ran through the typical cycle of dream occupations as any child would. she had a particularly tight grasp on astronomy for awhile, but she also always appreciated her mother's work in the field of education.

misun could be be rather mild-mannered, but she loved to run free in the yard, as if the fence that boxed it in existed in another realm entirely. as she grew older, she picked up several hobbies that always seemed to lend to a tranquil state of mind, as it was her favorite feeling in the world. painting and surfing were two of her favorite things to do, once she learned the basics of them. some of her most cherished memories of her father were the trips they took to the beach whenever he was home for the week so that he could see what she had learned for himself. she'd never forget the proud smile he wore.

[tw:death] she was fourteen when her father's boat sank in the korea strait, he and all of his crew being lost in the tragedy. they were at least able to hold a funeral for him; and misun always knew it was something that could happen in the logical side of her brain - but that was rarely the side she wanted to agree with. it was extremely hard on the family for his already too brief presence to have lessened to nothing, and it was years before any sense of normalcy was felt. [end tw]

it was fortunate that misun was so prone to being a parental figure in the household, as she was able to help her mother with her brother and sister while the woman grieved. it was simply in misun's nature to forego her own feelings to give another what they needed.

there was a desperate need for the lost income to be restored in some way, as her father had been the primary breadwinner for the family. her mother's salary as a teacher simply wasn't going to hold four people afloat in the city for very long. misun spent years juggling her workload in school along with working part-time, putting her all into not only bringing home good grades that her mom could be proud of, but helping to keep the family's bills paid, as well.

by the time she graduated, misun had excelled so much in her studies, that she was offered two different scholarships, both of which would have easily covered the expenses of attaining her degree, a miraculous offer for the family who had no way to afford college for any of the three children in it.

the college experience was everything misun had hoped for; a chance to better herself, find herself and take a bit of a break from the full workload she'd been carrying for so long. she still worked part time, so that she could slowly add to the college funds of her brother and sister while she attended school herself, but it was nice to have such a heavy focus on her studies.

she'd come to find that she wanted to go beyond teaching. she enjoyed the thought of administrative duties in the school system; fighting the good fight so that students could always have the help they needed to prosper. it wasn't just about filling their brains with meaningless facts they'd forget over a summer anymore - it was about making sure they had the tools to make it in life.

while she did receive some brief classroom training as a teacher in her initial transition, once misun got her master's degree, she was able to fill the position of principal at one of the schools in the city. she fell in love with it immediately, as it fit right in with her facilitating nature. she had a knack for keeping the peace around the school and making sure things ran smoothly so that all the teachers and other faculty could do their jobs properly.

she even had a positive working relationship with the local school board and her superiors, one of whom seemed to have taken quite a shine to her. he'd find any opportunity to speak with her, even about the silliest things. it was quite odd for misun to see him go back and forth from a very personable man to a very stuffy superintendent on an almost weekly basis, but there was definitely something charming about him.

before she really knew it, he'd swept misun off her feet entirely. suddenly they were sharing their lunch breaks at romantic cafes and making excuses to see each other during inconvenient times. misun always saw the best in people, and the things she saw in him made her feel love on an intense plane. she felt special with him; wanted. she might have said he'd broken down all her barriers, if she'd ever bothered to put them up.

as sweet as the feelings were, she supposed she knew the relationship was inappropriate considering that he was practically her boss. still, she didn't want to let go of the happiness she felt, and that she thought he had felt to.

it wasn't long before he informed her of his suspicions that some of his co-workers had an inkling he was having an affair with one of the school faculty members in the area. he seemed to know it was only a matter of time before the truth would come out, so he would cover his tracks. he would make sure no one ever found out.

initially, they were only meant to 'cool things off' a bit so that the suspicion would die down. admittedly, if word got out about them, misun knew it would be quite the scandal, and he may have to step down from his position. it seemed like the logical thing to do to lay low for awhile.

she didn't see the next part coming, though; apparently it had been decided that she would take the hit entirely, in order to save them both. her superintendent had crafted the brilliant plan to transfer her to kwangsook academy out in the small town of yunhwa and away from the city that she'd always known and loved. she wouldn't have to worry, he'd told her. the job was all but hers after the glowing recommendation he gave her. 'thank goodness, right? now you won't have to face any humiliation.'

she was confused, hurt and more angry than she had ever been in her life. as lovely as yunhwa was, it wasn't her home back in busan. it wasn't her school district. why was it her life that had been uprooted, and hers alone? was he suffering any undesired changes in his life in the city? did he even care at all that she was gone?

still though, misun's resilience remained steadfast, even after her heart was broken. as bitter as she was about the forced move, she'd been given a job to do, and she was going to going to do it right. getting used to the small town lifestyle has been a major adjustment for her, but she's not really one to complain about her circumstances.

two years on, and she remains in yunhwa, functioning as the head of kwangsook academy. as lost as she'd felt initially, she's come to fit in at the school at last. she's a rather amicable person who gets along well with the other teachers and staff members. she's always willing to lend a helping hand when it's needed, and is extremely dedicated to making sure the school has everything it needs in the way of funding, materials, healthy lunches and meaningful extracurriculars. as unassuming as misun can be sometimes, she's very protective of her students!

[boywivlove]

| Lutz | 01 

Chapters | 02

Pairing: Past Hoseok x Reader | Eventual Jimin x Reader

Genre: Figure skating AU | Slight angst | Fluff

Words: 1K +

Summary : After your last performance at the Junior world championships leaves you with a broken leg, your longtime boyfriend and team mate Jung Hoseok decides to partner with someone else and sign with a new agency  for the next competition, leaving you behind with the remains of a severed relationship. 2 years go by and your leg has long since healed, but a nasty blow to your confidence has put you off the idea of return to the competition circuit after being left behind. But when a chance meeting with an old friend catches you by surprise, you find yourself with a new partner. And after working hard you end right back where everything went wrong. But this time your going to show just far you’ve come.

Warnings : Mentions of broken bones and injury | some strong language |

Authors Note: Heyyyy SO Im still here haha, Ive been so busy with work and getting ready for christmas Ive not had time to write, but hopefully people are still here and want to read my skater AU hahah >W<

Its funny how things can change so quickly. You feel like everything just fits together, like a jigsaw portraying the image of your perfect life. You never really think about the perfection shattering like a mirror and you, being left to pick up the pieces of your once perfect reflection. Some things are just not meant to last forever I guess.

It was currently autumn time in your small little town, the leaves had long since shifted from lush greens into the beautiful hues of orange and red, like fire lining the cobbled streets. The chill in the air calling for thick winter wear and stalls of delicious hot foods perfect for this kind of weather. Yet as you walk the busy street, your once beloved time of year now only brought you broken memories and an ache in your bones you couldn’t seem to shift. 

You readjusted your messenger bag as you opened the door to the small coffee shop, the bell chiming as you felt the warmth kiss your frostbitten cheeks. It had been two years to the day when your dreams were ripped away from you. It was in this very cafe that you remember every detail of that night, every word he spoke to try and make you see his point of view, as if to soften the blow of his abandonment. Who was he trying to kid? His name was Jung Hoseok, Jhope in the figure skating circles. Yes, THAT Jung Hoseok. Lovable bad boy Pro skater Jung. god. damn. Hoseok. It was such a bad break up, if you could call it a break up. More like complete abandonment in your opinion. Who the hell abandons their girlfriend and skating partner for competition? Him thats who. 

It all happened at the junior world championships. You and Hoseok had been partners for 10 years, ever since you could balance on your skates. and for 5 years you had been a couple going strong. All the training you put in had led up to that moment, the moment to prove yourselves and be scouted out by the mass of agencies that had attended in hopes of snatching some new blood. It was finally your turn and you both breezed through the routine, the toe loops? no sweat. the Salchows were child’s play for you both. But then came the triple lutz. You had practices this particular move almost a hundred times and every time you were near perfect. But that one particular moment. The one time you needed to be flawless, lady luck decided fortune was not in the cards for you. You lost footing mid air and Boom. One broken femur and a trip to the hospital later you felt your ego bruised and your chances of being talent scouted shot.

It was two months later into your recovery Hoseok had asked you to meet at the cafe you sat in now, four booths over in fact. You had arrived a little late due to your injury inconvenience. He had ordered your favourite hot drink, peppermint hot chocolate and asked how you were. You didn’t think nothing of it but he had been distant since the accident. It wasn’t anything you felt you had to worry about, you were confined to the house the majority of your time after being released from the hospital so it was natural to you you hadn’t seen him in weeks. It was only when he cleared his throat and bit his lip you knew something was on his mind, it was a habit he had since he was a kid. Time seemed to slow down in that moment as your world caved in from under you.

“hey listen,, this is a little hard for me to say…”

“oh? is everything alright? I know we haven't been able to practice in a while but once im all healed-”

“no no its,,, look Y/N ill be straight with you.”

“ o- ok?”

“Y/N,, I want to go somewhere with my figure skating. and with you off the ice for the foreseeable,,,, I dont think I can go anywhere.”

“ oh… uh- so,, are you saying you want to go solo?”

“Not quite,,, aghhh listen, after your accident I realised were on different levels in our skating, this just proves it. This competition should have been easy for us and you go and break your leg for fucks sake,”

“oh like it was my intention to make an idiot of myself out there? How can you blame me for that?! Hoseok if you just wait we can work, I can work on my routines. i ca-”

“Y/N I cant say thins any other way but, I got a call from the S.F.S.A and they want me in their program. They’ve partnered me with a great skater and she-”

“Wait… you've already signed with them,,, and got a new partner. Hoseok I cant… I cant believe you. We always said we skate together or not at all. and you know how much I wanted us to get into S.F.S.A TOGETHER? Its like you dont care about anything we worked towards… and just because I broke my leg? … I just. I cant believe you.”

“come on Y/N dont be like this. This is a big opportunity for me. The Seoul Figure Skating Association in a BIG deal. I thought you’d understand. Your my girlfriend why are you being like this”

“Im HURT Hobi!? The slightest inconvenience and you throw me away? ,,,”

The silence was deafening as the two of you sat in that booth, The lighting overhead made Hobis blonde tips look almost white, and your eyes shimmer with unshed tears. It was as if the Hobi you knew, the man you’d loved since childhood had disappeared the moment he sat down. After all the hard work and effort you had put in, both in your teamwork and relationship, was it all for nothing. 

“I dont think this is gonna work between us anymore… Things, things change. People change and, I want this Y/N. I cant wait for you anymore.”

Those few sentences broke your heart. With nothing else to say to him you stood up, your crutches steadying you as you said nothing, what could you say to someone who just threw away everything you had together for a chance at bettering his career,,, a career you both put so much effort into. A career he was perusing with someone new. Hoseok stood with you when you struggled to adjust your bag around your head, he looked as though he wanted to help you, but the angry tears threatening to spill out of your reddening eyes was enough to tell him not to. As you made your way to the entrance you looked back at him, his face was masked in an almost pained expression, his cheeks were starting to pinken and his jaw was shaking slightly as thought he was about to cry. You left the shop before you could hear him saying its for the best. if that was what he thought then he can leave you. You were just thrown to the kerb and in that moment. your perfect world had shattered. your reflection left broken into pieces on the floor.

So, two years later and here you sit, in the same cafe, looking over to the booth your whole life came crashing down. Your leg had healed well, and you took back to the ice almost instantly to train yourself up again, but after the pain of losing your partner on and off the ice, you just couldn’t find the confidence you once had. It was as if your competitive lust for figure sating had left you with Hobi. It was after your loss of confidence your mental health took an even bigger hit, you felt yourself declining from the world and the people around you as you just got by day to day. You felt you could heal from what happened physically, but not mentally. But all grey clouds have a silver lining, days went by, the sun came up, and you eventually felt like yourself again. It took a lot, but it was the lack of self confidence in yourself that led you to your current occupation, your local ice rink had an opening for the overseeing the beginners lessons for ages 5-10, as much as you wished you could get back to being the skater you once were, the kids have grown on you. Your days that were filled with dull moping around the now very single woman’s apartment was now filled with tiny rosy cheeked little faces eager to learn. and everyday you felt yourself becoming more and more like yourself. And its this part of your life when you meet someone who turns it all around for you.

[this-is-my-canon]

My @kakaobiweek prompt for today, Crossover

Stowaway

Read it on Ao3 here

Obito missed the hum of the engines at times like these. He missed feeling the excitement of Akatsuki taking off into space, sending him and his crew across the galaxy on whatever job the universe landed on ‘em. These here stops at port were near intolerable for a ship’s captain. But unfortunately, they were the jobs that paid - and as much as he disapproved of his high class cousin’s profession, Itachi was a reliable and steady source of income for the crew.

While stuck picking up his noble companion of a cousin, it didn’t hurt to wrangle a few more fares. People were always lookin’ to pay their way to someplace. It was an easier way to make money than heistin’. Even Konan couldn’t argue against the benefit of it.

By the time he was finally able to launch them back into space, sending Yahiko to the controls and Kakuzu and Hidan to survey the back of the ship for any signs of chase, Obito was tired. In his exhaustion and stress, he hadn’t paid much mind to Itachi’s shuttle’s return to the ship, or what comp’ny he may have brought on board his Akatsuki. It wasn’t until he was standing at the helm, recoverin’ from a deep sleep with a hot cup of coffee cradled in his hands, that Konan pointed out a terrible fact which should’ve been brought to his attention from the beginning.

[[MORE]]

“Itachi...what now?” he asked, massaging his brow as he tried to process it.

“BUN tyen-shung duh ee-DWAY-RO,” Konan murmured, shooting him a sideways glare. “Did you honestly not see him come aboard with a man on his arm, Sir?”

Obito shook his head. “I was too busy watchin’ Deidara makin’ googly eyes over the doll-like doctor he brought aboard.” He groaned and ran his hand down his face before setting his cooling porcelain aside. “I need t’see Itachi.”

Yahiko snorted and muttered something under his breath, but wise-like, he kept his hands on the wheel and his eyes fixed on the starry constellations out in front of ‘im.

“Good luck, Sir,” Konan said coolly.

On his way out through the porthole, Obito scowled at the back of the blue head of hair on his best fighter and oldest friend on this ship. After meandering his way through the twisted corridors of rusted pipes and steaming piles of junk that made up the ship that was his pride an’ joy, he still had the same scowl when he busted through the door to Itachi’s shuttle.

“Obito,” Itachi said coolly as Obito scanned his gaze across scarlet pillows and black velvet curtains in search of his cousin. “Glad to see you haven’t forgotten our discussion about how to knock.”

“I’ll remember your discussion,” Obito said to the pale and stoic face appearing from behind a parting silk curtain, “when you ‘member my rules about bringin’ strangers on my Akatsuki.”

“Technically,” Itachi drawled, shooting a pointed glance over a pale, exposed shoulder, “he’s not on your Akatsuki, he’s on my shuttle.”

“And technically,” echoed a second voice muffled behind the curtains before there was a shuffle. The curtains parted again to reveal silver hair and a jagged scar on a face that was all too familiar, “he’s not a stranger, either.”

“Kakashi,” Obito hissed his name like a curse.

“Oh,” Itachi hummed, shooting Kakashi a wink. “You two know each other?”

“You know goram well we do,” Obito growled.

He pushed his way past his refined whore of a cousin to the piece of shit so-called friend who dared to take him up on his services. Kakashi was slightly taller, forcing Obito t’look up his nose at the stunning, half-lidded eyes and red bandana covering the contours of fine lips and chiseled jawline Obito already knew to be hidden beneath it.

He shoved his finger into Kakashi’s chest, finding it just as firm as he remembered it to be. “What’s the big idea, hitchin’ a ride on my ship?”

Kakashi shrugged. “Companionship.”

“You don’t want Itachi’s companionship.”

“How can you know that?”

“You don’t.” Obito huffed, waving his hand in broad, lazy gestures at his refined, polite, and not-at-all-Kakashi’s-type cousin. “He’s doing this as some sort of twisted favor to you, though I dunno what either of you stand t’gain from this.”

Itachi and Kakashi exchanged a glance, and if Obito didn’t know any better, an entire conversation just happened in front of ‘im without his knowin’ about it.

“Okay.” Obito remembered t’breathe. “What is goin’ on here?”

Itachi reached forward, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, but Obito didn’t dare meet his eye. Itachi could kill a man with his look. Obito had seen it before.

“Obito,” Itachi said soothing-like. “Cousin. I like to give my clients full discretion. Whatever arrangement Kakashi and I have, it is no business of yours.”

Obito saw red, feeling the blister of his rage boil to the surface. “Kakashi! Get off my ship.”

Kakashi glanced sideways at the shuttle’s hatch, which would lead him outside to the vacuum of space. “Sure,” he deadpanned. “Of course I can do that.”

“At the next stop,” Obito said, wagging his finger. “Soon as we’re planet-side, you’re off.”

Obito turned with a flourish, leaving Itachi grumbling and Kakashi sighing in his wake. He stormed through the corridors of his ship on his return to the bridge, determined to drive any thoughts or questions he might still have about Kakashi Hatake out of his mind. He didn’t need to know what all that business was about. He only needed his ex off the Akatsuki as soon as possible.

-

As soon as possible wasn’t soon at all, as it turned out.

Konan explained it all in her usual condescending tone, but none of it made no sense. Yahiko couldn’t pull into port at the next planet because the doc who’d just joined their little crew was apparently wanted there. Yahiko couldn’t turn them back to Konoha, where’s they’d just picked up Itachi and Obito’s latest inconvenience, because some thieves over there’d been trynna take their fuel. After the Sand they were so inconveniently passing, twasn’t nothin’ for light years.

This was Shiong mao niao.

“So Kakashi,” Deidara said, swinging his long blonde hair across the dinner table, “how did you and the captain meet?”

“Oh, we’ve known each other since we were-“

“I won’t be havin’ no interrogations at the dinner table on my ship,” Obito interrupted gruffly.

“Damn,” Deidara sulked, sinking into his chair, “I was just bein’ conversation-like, un. What about you, Sasori?” He shot a smile at the red-haired doctor across the table. “I could use some lookin-over. Been a long time since the Akatsuki’s had a bonafide doctor on board.”

Sasori frowned. “I don’t believe my passage requires that I work for this crew.”

“Everyone works on my ship, doc,” Obito said around a mouthful of food.

“But you could,” Deidara pressed, his one visible eye lighting with hope, “couldn’t you, doc? As a favor to me?”

“Jen mei NAI-shing duh FWO-tzoo,” Hidan grumbled, pounding his fist into the table. “Just tell the guy you want his ass, Dei, and let the rest of us enjoy our dinner.”

“Hidan,” Kakuzu hissed.

Hidan flinched, baring his teeth in a wince, while Obito rolled his eyes. His crew was his family. They were lucky they were, because otherwise he never would’ve tolerated this level of aggravation.

“Keep your thoughts locked up tight in that hollow head o’yours,” Obito told Hidan before pointing his fork at Kakashi, who was opening his mouth when he shouldn’t. “And you! Keep trynna flap your lips and I’ll have you strapped down in the infirmary ‘til we get you off this ship.”

Kakashi met Obito’s gaze with a twinkle of mirth shining in his grey eyes. Obito realized the implications of what he’d said, which made him recall their times together in a way that was very inconvenient when he was makin’ a point to push Kakashi away and instill his hatred of the bastard on the rest of his crew. Obito knew Kakashi was thinkin’ all kinds of smug retorts. Maybe he was here to undermine Obito’s authority in front of his crew. Maybe he wanted to pay Obito back for some unkindness he’d never had a chance to repay after the war. He couldn’t be here for any other reason, so the suggestiveness of Obito’s words meant nothin’.

“Yes, Sir,” Kakashi said.

Obito narrowed his eyes, first at Kakashi and then at his snickerin’ crewmates. Konan at least had the self-control to rein it in after one curt eruption of laughter, and Yahiko had the decency to cover his mouth, but the others blatantly exchanged glances and disrespected Obito on his own damn ship. This was the kind of trouble Kakashi brought with ‘im.

Obito curled his fingers around the edge of the table until it hurt. “Kakashi. Can I speak with you a minute?”

Kakashi raised his brows. “I don’t know. You asked me not to talk, Capt-“

“To them,” Obito growled, waving a hand across their company. He shoved off the table, kicking his chair out as he stood. “This way. Now.”

He walked out with his fists curled by his sides, ready at any moment to pound them into Kakashi’s stupid face if he said one more thing to demean him in front of his crew. Fortunately, he didn’t hear another word from Kakashi, only the sound of his footsteps trailing after. By the time he found the infirmary, where he could question Kakashi in peace and also where he was seriously considering following through on that threat to incapacitate him if it came to it, he wondered at Kakashi’s agreeableness. When he turned to face Kakashi and saw him sealing the infirmary door behind them, Obito realized with a groan he was givin’ Kakashi exactly what he wanted with this.

“I didn’t know any other way of talkin’ to ya,” Kakashi said.

“Ever heard of sendin’ letters?”

“Obito. It’s Rin.” Obito’s blood ran cold, all thoughts of arguing with Kakashi draining away with the devastating mention of her name. “I found her. I need Akatsuki’s help to get ‘er out, though.”

Obito shook his head. “You’re not makin’ any sense.”

“We thought she died - in the war. Obito.” Kakashi paused, lookin’ like he was havin’ as hard a time sayin’ it as Obito was with hearin’ it. “She’s alive. She’s been held prisoner in Tsukuyomi. We can get her out - if we work together.”

“Work together? With you?” Obito snorted, but feelings rolled in at just imaginin’ his chance to right the greatest wrong he’d ever witnessed in this universe. He gulped. “Are you sure we can save her?”

Kakashi hummed. “It all depends on your cooperation. I’ve got everythin’ all planned out.”

Obito bit his bottom lip. “Good. ‘Cause I can’t take no false promises, not about this.”

Kakashi shook his head. “Nothin’ false here. I promise.”

Obito choked back a sob, refusin’ to let himself cry in front of the man who’d always jumped on the chance to call him a crybaby. It would be strange, workin’ with Kakashi again. There were feelings, feelings he thought he’d gotten over, but could already feel bubblin’ to the goram surface again. He didn’t want to open himself up to it, but for Rin, he would.

He had to.

Kakashi reached forward, and for an instant, held his hand just short of Obito’s. Obito didn’t move. He wouldn’t close the gap, but if Kakashi did, he wouldn’t pull away either. He didn’t know what he wanted in regards to Kakashi. Rin was easy. Rin was safe. Kakashi, with all his eccentricities, would always be a puzzle to Obito. He hated him. He needed him.

If he ain’t had no better sense, he’d have to admit he still loved him.

“Trust me, Obito?” Kakashi asked as he withdrew his hand to his side.

Obito smiled. “I’m ‘fraid I ain’t grown out of that flaw.”

Kakashi smiled back. “I’ve been holdin’ onto a few m’self.”

“Bastard,” Obito scoffed.

“Deadlast,” Kakashi said fondly.

They would find Rin, and they would save their comrade. Might even rekindle somethin’ Obito wasn’t quite ready for. But then, there was never any bein’ ready when it came to Kakashi.

[nutrawins]

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[kwackdoctor]

Progress Note #2: How to love yourself

Today, for the nth time, I have googled “how to love myself”. It’s that time of the month, I think, that I get depressive thoughts, suicidical really, but I still try to fight for myself and try to save me. Just a little background, when I was in high school, I had suicidal notes – plans to kill myself, notes of goodbyes to my parents. To this day, I still remember the look of hurt of my mother when she read it. She was hurt, betrayed and scared at the same time. Right there I realized that my problems wont go away along with me, it will stay with the people left behind. So at that moment, I promised whenever these thoughts visit, and they often do, that I will fight for myself. A bit ironic, isn’t it? Negating the thoughts of killing myself. But it really happens, you really cant control these thoughts. I have thought about getting professional help, but I think im not ready to scare my parents again. So im doing a “self-help”. So while I was researching, I came about a website by marc and angel and they list down a few tips on how to love yourself. So today, I will try to do that.

“because the greatest struggle in life is the struggle to accept, embrace, and love ourselves, with all of our imperfections”

it seem so easy. I mean, I love myself. But do I really KNOW myself for me to love it?

I was making plans with my best friend, telling him our plans of travelling together when this academic thing is over. I was telling him of not getting married early because I was scared of being alone. When his replied shocked me, he said, “Learn to love your company, be your own bestfriend”. GUYS. My own bestfriend, telling me to be my own bestfriend. Was he trying to break up with me? But it hit me hard. I SHOULD REALLY LOVE MYSELF. But how?

“We have to learn to be our own best friends beciase sometimes we fall too easily into the trap of being our own worst enemies. We love the idea of others loving us, and we forget to love ourselves.”

Start telling yourself what you love about yourself.

Well, this is hard. You know what’s easy? Telling myself what I hate about myself. But let’s try this exercise. I have watched a series wherein they also did this but they only listed 5 things, so I will try that.

I love my height

I love my cheerful and optimistic side (even though it is tiring sometimes)

I love how I can make people laugh

I love my kilay

I love my dimples

Be one with what is

It says in the website, “ giving up on being perfect and beginning the journey of becoming your true self”. Well, that’s easy. I am not perfect. I know that. Again, I can list all of my imperfections in 10 minutes unlike exercise 1 which took my 30 minutes to list 5 things. face palm

but being one with what is, it’s kind of difficult to understand. Being okay with yourself. Isn’t that settling? Isn’t that going below average? But maybe I am the average and being myself is okay. Well, we will update on this because I am also confused on the matter HAHA

Focus less on winning the approval of others

Okay, this is difficult. We live in a world where every aspect of your life is posted on social media. Every event in your daily, mundane life is recorded. How the hell do you stop trying to get approval of others? Whenever I post something, someone is always there to comment – be it bad or good. Maybe I should get a social media hiatus, right?

“Your time on this planet is precious:

“What you do today is important, because you are exchanging a day of your life for it”

“Don’t wait around for someone else to give you permission to live”

Sooooo, if I sleep all day, what does that make me? Still important. I think I shouldn’t be bothered by what people think about my itinerary. I will do whatever makes me happy. #sleepislife

Distance yourself from those who bring you down

Wait, what if I don’t know those people? Should I know them?

“Being in a relationship is better than being in a wrong one” – OH SNAP, that hit me. I have been with this guy for a long time now (hello 7 years), and I still don’t see any progress with our relationship. Should I see progress? But I still don’t have the guts to let him go. I still love him. But in most times, we just aren’t in sync. I don’t know what to do with it, though.

“Know your worth” – still trying, I am so sorry.

“Quality over quantity” – ah, this I have done right. I think. But sometimes, I still feel like I was choosen last. You know those scenes in the movie, where the captain chooses their team mate? I always feel like I was the last one choosen. Maybe because they have been together longest? Or maybe because I don’t speak the language? Or maybe because of who I am as a person. But I don’t really blame them, I guess it’s my fault.

Forgive your past self.

I’m not so sure about this. I don’t really have a past to forgive on. Or do i?

(I just realized how long this list is, so I will try to be more concise)

Start making the changes you know you need to make

WHAT CHANGES?

“Just because something made you happy in the past doesn’t mean you have to keep it forever” – this is him again. I think. But but but, he still makes me happy. Sometimes. Yea, im stupid that way.

Embrace the mistakes you haven’t even made yet

This looks fun. “Don’t let the fear of making the wrong decision prevent you from making any decision at all”

Well, the thing is, I keep making the wrong decisions.

Show gratitude for who you are and what you have right now.

I am very grateful with what I have right now. I know there are a lot of people less fortunate that I am, and I am very much grateful for what I have. But sometimes, I really can’t control my jealous type. They have like this, they go to this, and whatever. But I keep telling myself that what I have now is more than enough and I shouldn’t feel bad about it. It’s an everyday struggle, but I know what I have.

I have always thought that I could get anything I want as long as I put my mind to it. But there are things that I really can’t have. That makes me angry and want to throw a tantrum but I realize that I am too old for that sht. I have to learn to accept these things, however hard it seems.

“There are lots of people who will never have what you have right now. So use pain, frustration and inconvenience to motivate you rather than annoy you. You are in conttol of the way you look at life.”

I will accept these things.

No matter how hard it is.

It’s a hard pill to swallow, so man up, self!

Do something every day that makes you happy

What if nothing makes me happy anymore?

“Life is short”

“Invest in the activities you deeply care about”

“You have to experience life on your terms before you can be life-giving to others”

I really need to get a hobby. Any suggestions?

Give yourself a fair chance to explore new ideas and opportunites

But how?

Hobbies. Interests. What.

Listen to your intuition and be honest with yourself about everything

Now, this is what this blog is all about. Being honest with myself. You see, I haven’t been honest with a lot of people in my life. I told lies to be interesting. I had to keep up with it. But then I realized, I don’t really have to do that. Fuck what people say, this is me. If you don’t love me, then leave. (I hope I am this confident in real life).

“Confidence comes from knowing that what youre doing is right, and that what you’re doing is right for YOU”

Believe in your abilities.

Focus in writing your story, instead of reading, watching, and hearing about everyone else’s

I feel like I have been doing this at some point of my life. I guess, my life was so boring I had to make it a bit interesting by watching others. But I realized again, that this was wrong.

Pay close attention to your life as you’re living it

This is what I am also practicing. Being in the present. Maybe because of my work that I have missed a lot of stuff happening in my loved one’s lives, but now I will try to be there. To be present. I used to ask myself whenever someone invites me, “what will I do there”. Today, I will answer myself with “Just be there, be present.”

Loosen up and be a little less serious about it all

I guess what’s good about me is that I don’t take it all seriously. Most of my friends can attest that. But I guess there are certain aspect in life that you should take seriously. Differentiating them is the lesson life gives you.

“people with good sense of humor have a better sense of life” REALLY NOW

Lastly, (thank God), Go out of your way to be loving and kind to others too

Heh, this is hard. I have been known to be maldita and judgemental. How do I stop?

“people who love themselves come across as very caring, generous, and kind to others too”

so today, I will try to be loving and caring. It is hard. But I will really try to go out of my way to do this. I hope everyone does, to make this life a better place.

Parting thoughts: Start looking at yourself more. Notice yourself more. Eventually, you’ll realize you love yourself more. You have nothing else, but yourself, so you really don’t have a choice. I know I will do the same. This will be my self-help blog for loving myself. I will keep you posted on my “progress”, if there’s any.

Cheerios.

[secludeed]

I’m sorry, Jen.

Wednesday, July 11, 2018. Approximately 12:15 AM. Corner of Hacienda Blvd. and Temple Ave.

The light is red as I approach it coming to a stop. I am pressing both front and back brakes, Jen sitting behind pushing against the tank as to not press against me before coming to a halt. I notice a sheriff patrol car speed through the perpendicular intersection, another car slowly turning left. I am stopped. The light changes from green to yellow to red. It is our turn to go.

With my clutch held all the way down with two fingers, I rev a little to let her know the light is changing and she holds onto me again. However, the light changes, I accidentally rev too high, also accidentally release the clutch much faster than I anticipated, popped a really high wheelie in which I could not control, and we ultimately come crashing down to our right, in the middle of the intersection.

I rush to her, make sure she’s okay, and she is standing. I tell her to hurry to the side of the road, to get out of the intersection, and she does so. I proceed to pick up my bike, cannot start it up, and push it to where she was. She tells me that something is wet, like water, and a witness pulls over to check on us. Other bystanders check up on us as well as we sat on the floor and me trying to look after her injuries. At this point I feel stinging on my body, a minor case of road rash but nothing else. I look at her injuries. Scraped wrists, slight bruising on her pinky, and overall just minor scratches throughout her hands. She hands me the water to open, and I pour it to help clean her off, to which it is stinging her, normal. Immediately, Nate is called, and I tell him about the situation. He eventually shows up with a bag of ice, a first aid kit, and we are sitting down cleaning up the blood and everything as she is wincing in pain from the wipes. Bandages are placed on the more injured areas, and she asks Nate to go home to retrieve a jacket to hide her injuries. As he leaves, I try my best to look after her, and her pinky is swelling up, and so I try to hold the ice on her wrist and pinky she says is hurting.

All she can think about is how she’ll have to explain this to her family. All I can think about is how to help her, care for her, and my own fucking mistakes.

Nate returns, her mom is calling and worried, and we get a sweater over her after covering the rest of her scrapes. I really do not hope she sprained her wrists, or broke or fractured anything, and by the looks of it there was no intense swelling, she had control of her limbs, and it was just bruising and cuts and scrapes.

Nate leaves to take her home. I reassure that I am okay, and I will promptly be leaving to head home as well.

I rode completely slowly the entire time, not dangerous, but not the speed limit. I thought about all of tonight, what I was going to say, what I was going to do. But most importantly I thought about her, and how I truly fucked up tonight.

Here I am now.

Jen, if you are reading this, I know I told you a lot of what I was thinking earlier via text.

First, I thanked Nate and only talked positively and wished him well for tonight.

Next, I apologize profusely, and maybe even excessively, for there are no words, actions, or thoughts that will make any of this better to me.

You know me, Jen. You know enough about me to know that this is going to haunt me for a long time after tonight, and for the most part it may never go away. Who knows what I am going to do tonight. All I promised was that I would be safe, and I will be here for you no matter what.

However, you do not know everything about me. I honestly wanted to tell you, but last night got late, and today was busy, and quite frankly it all went south. But nevertheless, the point still stands, I have a list on my Notes on this phone. It encompasses essentially most of my thoughts from last night, things I wanted to say to you but never got the chance to.

Jen, I am going to be absolutely honest here. I like you, you know that. I am attracted to people that understand me and my struggles, that is why I was so attracted to Eileen, my ex. She believed in me and listened to me when nobody would or understood. You are like her, you took the chance to listen to me, and that is why I am so attracted to you.

Don’t get me wrong, however. One of the topics I wanted to discuss is that although I do find you attractive, as a person, I understand and respect your decision to stay as friends. First and foremost, I have grown up a lot since both my relationship and as a person in general. I have immense respect for you, and would never try to jeopardize the friendship and connections we had. And therefore, knowing full well at this point that neither of us were ready for a relationship, as well as respecting you saying “don’t ever fall in love with me” sometime between our friendship, that my attraction to you is purely mental, not affectionate. That is why, when I say I love you, it is not because I am craving a romantic relationship or anything of the likes. Instead I mean it wholeheartedly as a person, a genuine human emotion in which I want the best for you, care about you, and need you in my life as friends or anything more. In short, I love you, but I am not in love with you.

Moreover, you know this, but to anyone that stumbles upon this post, I do care about you, Jen. I wanted to give you the world I thought you deserved but never had. I would go out of my way to spoil you and give you everything, not as an inconvenience but as an act of care for you. After tonight, whether you believe me or not, I still do care about you, maybe even moreso now.

And to the point in which I say you know me, but you don’t fully know me: last night was just skimming the surface of my problems. Yes we are both a little messed up. Yes our problems are different and unique in their own ways. And no I will not argue with who has it worse or whatever because that’s just absolutely stupid and ignorant. Regardless, what I wanted to say to you is that deep down, I am a messed up psychopath in my mind. I can imagine doing things that can not only harm myself but all other people, in the snap of a finger. I don’t say this to anyone because why should I? It’s all horrible regardless. Some things I think about are things like how selfish I can be or am, and how manipulative I can be.

You tell me to be myself, to take care of myself or to treat myself out because you think this will make me feel better. No. I put myself through mental agony, and often times physical agony as well like refusing to eat, sleep, or drink anything or even self-harm as a form of suppression from acting impulsively upon these thoughts. If I were to let everything roam freely, it would cause chaos, and real quickly all of my bridges and friendships and ties will be burned down. I can think and say really negative thoughts. I am irresponsible with power, money, and other people’s trust. I can mess up people’s lives with everything they tell me, or the things I know because of how observant and “trustable” I seem to be. But I choose not to because that not only harms myself, it harms everybody I care about, everybody I choose to live for. As for being manipulative: I tend to guilt trip people often, even unintentionally. Do you know one of the reasons my ex was with me for as long as we were together, and why she left? It was because one night upon me opening up with her, I ignorantly muttered that without her in my life I was likely going to be in prison or dead, and if we broke up and ended negatively, I would have killed myself, but not because of her, but by my own inner demons. Of course, this was taken the wrong way, and she knew in the back of her head this was a very real possibility. However, she ultimately swallowed the pill one week and decided enough was a enough. She took the chance on herself and on me, and look where I am today. That is just one case of my manipulation. I am very, very good with manipulating words, phrases, thoughts and even emotions to my favor, but I often times try to catch myself before doing so.

How I felt about Nate? I don’t know. I didn’t like him, not because I hated him, but because I didn’t know him. He hadn’t really proved anything to me to show why I wanted to be friends with him other than some common interests. And I don’t mean this in a bad way, I just mean that I am very selective with my friends, which is why I have so few that I truly do connect with and care about, like you. But after tonight, I can only think positive about him.

And you know me. I give people the benefit of the doubt. I try to look at the positives in everything of everyone around me, like I tried to with Nate and like I do with you. It is because I used to be the opposite before, and it only hurt me more, and I decided to change. Thus, to prevent myself from being the manipulative, disgusting person I know I can be, I told you the same thing I do for myself: pick your friends carefully. Now I did not tell you to drop Nate, even if it sounded like I did. The matter of fact was that I told you to be careful with who you let in your life, especially being a woman, as often times people try to take advantage of others, something I refused to let happen between us. That is why I told you to live your life to the best and funnest you can but at the same time to be careful with your life as well. Like I said, I am not here to control your life. Im merely here to try and guide you to a happier, more fulfilling life. Yet it seems that despite how much you’ve helped me, how happy you’ve made me, how much of a hole you’ve helped me out of, that ultimately I can always fall back down, and more often than not fall deeper than where I started.

I get it. I get a lot of things because I am pretty observant but I get it. Shit happens, accidents and mistakes happen, and as fortunate as we are that nothing worse happened, I still do think about it and kick myself for it, being too hard on myself as you pointed out. But I also understand that this will subside, better and worse things will happen in the future, and to just not repeat the past, something I definitely will refrain from letting happen.

More often than not, I know it is clearly irresponsible of me to be depending on others to call me out on my shit or to take care of me. The truth is, I am ignorant and stupid. I am reckless and careless. And I do not know how to improve without the help I desperately need, but refuse to call for. Special people like you are really all I have in my life, and although I do take advantage of the time we have together in our lives, I cherish each and every memory as much as I can, even long after everything is over. I hold onto the past too much, and that is one of the main reasons why I am where I am today.

I will tell you this, the same I told my ex: I owe you my life. Thank you for saving me, even if it’s just for a brief period of time. What I mean is that you have given me a glimpse of happiness in life again, a sense of fulfillment and purpose, and above all else, a reason to want to live. And often times, I take these moments for granted, and miss it all completely once it is gone. Therefore, whatever happens from here on out, you will always know and understand about me. And more importantly, as long as you are here I can promise I will be here too, not just for you but for myself too. I don’t have much in my life, and very very few people know as much as you do, if not more.

Jen, this is only the surface. I know I say that all too often. But the truth is, I cannot simply say everything that goes on in my mind. I am not just some encyclopedia of problems that can be searched or filtered. Instead I can give you a glimpse of what my demons are, what I am facing or thinking and tell you or explain to you what or how I think. I hope you understand that, for even I do not fully understand myself. But having two people to understand do help immensely, because as you know I think, I overthink, and I have way too many thoughts in my head, more often negative above all else.

I am sorry Jen. I honestly had a lapse of judgement tonight, took advantage of your trust in me, and hurt you, something I never had in mind or ever wished to happen. I completely understand if our friendship is negatively affected or even tarnished after tonight, for I have nobody to blame but myself. You of all people understand how hard I am on myself, so me not listening if you said it was just an accident or anything is just the way I think. I hurt you, and I apologize for it. I am owning up to my mistakes and trying my best to learn and move on. But these things haunt me, and they are only more weapons I can use against myself that will bring my mental health downwards even more, I hope you can understand that. The demons inside of my mind are ever growing, especially in strength and in numbers, and it is because of people like you that I can use to counteract these demons. So for situations like this, I feel it is a battle I must fight alone, a battle that will ultimately make me stronger if it does not kill me first. But having you by my side does definitely help, so I am eternally grateful for having you in my life.

I am so deeply sorry Jen. I do not know how I will ever be able to repay you for this, how I could possibly make up for it. This will always be a sobering moment in my life, and I will always reflect upon this to keep me grounded, and to keep me growing. Rock bottom is near, Jen, and whether or not that is a good thing, it only means that I care more and more about you, and you really are that special person I cherish in my life at the moment. I am so sorry, Jen. I really am. I hope you can forgive me for all of this.

[casper-has-a-cat]

WARNING: descriptions of vomit below!

read the warning!

read the warning!

read the warning!

okay, you’ve been warned!  please enjoy the fic!

Kuroo didn’t like labels.  They made things feel deceptively permanent, falsely mutually exclusive, and generally excessively dramatic.  Thus, he tried not to label his days as being “good” or “bad.”  Today, however, was an exception.

Although he hadn’t woken up on the wrong side of the bed, per say, he had woken up on the floor, and with a terrible crick in his neck at that.  Which sucked, but at that point he was still able to convince himself that it wasn’t a bad enough to be a Bad™ day yet.

Then he realized he’d woken up an hour and a half late and he decided that it at least had potential.  

He rushed to get ready, knowing he’d miss first and second period at the very least, but hoping to make it to third period on time since he had a Statistics exam.  The getting ready went pretty smoothly, and Kuroo started to think that maybe the day would get better.

Needless to say, he was wrong.

There was no food in his house.  None.  He’d forgotten to get the groceries last night, and this was the result.  He slammed the cabinet door shut, losing his cool a bit before reminding himself to stay calm.  He managed to do so, right up until he saw the unread messages on his phone screen.

From: Kitten Time: 6:45 am where r u

From: Kitten Time: 6:53 am r u coming

Call from: Kitten Time: 6:55 am

From: Kitten Time: 7:02 am we r gonna b late

Call from: Kitten Time: 7:02 am

From: Kitten Time: 7:03 am im gonna skip if u do

From: Kitten Time: 7:03 am i dont want to go today

Call from: Kitten Time: 7:03 am

Call from: Kitten Time: 7:04 am

Call from: Kitten Time: 7:04 am

Call from: Kitten Time: 7:04 am

Call from: Kitten Time: 7:05 am

From: Kitten Time: 7:05 am moms making me go

“Shit!”  He couldn’t help it.  This time he shouted out loud.  One good thing was that since his parents were out of town, nobody heard him, but it didn’t make him feel much better.  By the time he texted Kenma back his hands were shaking and his head was pulsing vaguely behind his eyes.

To: Kitten Time: 9:24 am Kenma I am so sorry I totally overslept.  Hang in there.  I’m on my way.

And then he was, as he had told Kenma, on his way, begrudgingly taking with him a headache instead of breakfast, but on his way nonetheless.  He was forced to make a large detour due to a new construction site’s cropping up.  He scowled.  Not only was it inconvenient, but they’d cut down his favorite tree.  It was where he’d first met Kenma.  And now suddenly it was gone forever.

By the time he got to school, it was already 20 minutes into third period.  Kenma still hadn’t responded to his text, Kuroo couldn’t stop thinking about how his favorite tree was gone forever, his head still hurt from having been unable to eat, and his neck still hurt from having fallen off his bed.  Basically, he felt like crying.  Instead, he shot Kenma another text and went to take his test.

To: Kitten Time: 10:30 am I’m sorry Kenma, I really am.  I’ll see you at lunch, okay?

During the test could barely focus.  He was so hungry, and the combination of the crick in his neck and his mild headache was really starting to get to him, making it hard to remember material even though he’d stayed up late memorizing it.  Still, he was nearly finished when the teacher stopped them.  Five minutes early.  Kuroo couldn’t believe it.  When the teacher came by he started to protest.

“Excuse me, but I believe we should have another five minutes?  I’m almost done, and-“

“Well, Mr. Tetsurou, maybe you should have thought of that before you came to the test 20 minutes late.”

“But-“  The teacher took his papers.  Kuroo sighed and relented.  It wasn’t like he really had a valid excuse anyway, and he was truly too exhausted to argue any further.

He slunk to the cafeteria, scrolling through his non-existent new text messages in a daze.  He wondered how angry Kenma was.  

Angry enough, he soon discovered, to avoid sitting at their usual table.

“Damnit,” he mumbled, wanting to kick himself.  He shook his head.  Kenma could be anywhere.  At the moment, however, Kuroo felt like if he didn’t eat, he would pass out, so he got in the lunch line.  It wasn’t until he was at the register that he realized: his wallet was gone.

As his hand searched his pocket, which had nothing in it but a hole, his face paled.  The lunch lady was glaring at him, tapping her fingers impatiently.

“I, uh,” he stuttered, still searching his pocket in disbelief even though he knew he wouldn’t find anything there.  His throat got tight in that way it did when he wanted to cry but refused to do so, and he opened his mouth to explain what had happened.

Just then, a small figure popped up beside him and stuck a wad of cash into his hand.  Kuroo looked down in surprise, then let out a breath of relief.  It was Kenma.  He was pouting and aggressively avoiding eye contact, but he was there.  Kuroo smiled, paid for his food, and then followed Kenma as he stalked away.  They ended up underneath a tree.  Kenma sat down with his back to it and started eating, just a bit.  Kuroo tried to sit next to him, but Kenma immediately scuttled to the opposite side of the tree so that their backs were to each other.

“Kenma…”  Kuroo spooned some of his lunch into his mouth.  Despite how hungry he was, he couldn’t appreciate the food when he was so worried about his best friend.  Hoping it would help him think more clearly, he made himself eat anyway.

“The teacher called me out for being late,” Kenma mumbled, not looking up from his food.

Kuroo’s throat tightened again.  He knew how much Kenma hated being the center of attention, and this time it was Kuroo’s fault that he’d been made the focal point for his entire class.

“I’m sorry, Kenma.  Really, I am,” Kuroo apologized, not knowing what else he could say.  He didn’t think telling Kenma that he’d been called out for being late, too, would help matters, and yet it felt like his brain was short-circuiting, only capable of looping through the day’s regrets and sending him sharp bursts of physical and psychological pain.

They ate in silence for the next fifteen minutes.  Then Kenma spoke up again.

“They cut down the tree.”

Kuroo looked up, hearing that Kenma’s voice was much closer than it had been before.  Sure enough, the smaller boy was now next to him.  He could see the slight crease in Kenma’s brow that meant he was upset.  Kuroo hated that Kenma was upset, but he was glad that the tree meant something to him, too.

“I know, Ki- uh, Kenma,” he corrected.  Kenma looked up from his game and gave Kuroo a long, bland stare.  Then he shrugged and turned back to his game.  They didn’t say much else before the bell rang and they had to go to class.

The second half of Kuroo’s day was nearly as bad as the first.  He was assigned group projects in all three of his afternoon classes.  He hated group projects with a passion, because it always meant working with idiots.  It didn’t help that his headache still hadn’t gone away, even though he’d been sure to eat more than enough at lunch.  He scowled, and tried to be nice to his group mates in spite of their infuriating stupidity.

He had at least been looking forward to practice, but when he got to the gym it was empty.  Then he remembered that the coach was out of town dealing with a family emergency and had cancelled practice.  Normally the team would meet anyway, but quite a few of the other team members had other events to attend today anyway and were taking advantage of the time off.  Kuroo pulled his phone out to text Kenma to ask where to meet him so they could walk home together, but could hardly believe the message on his screen.

From: Kitten Time: 2:52 pm im in a hurry, so ill go home ahead

Kuroo rubbed his temple.  Kenma was never in a hurry, so he must still be angry.  He’d thought they were on okay terms after lunch, but maybe he was wrong.  The thought only made his head hurt worse.

To: Kitten Time: 2:58 pm Are you still mad at me?  Kenma, I’m really sorry.

To: Kitten Time: 2:59 pm Be safe on your way home.

To: Kitten Time: 3:00 pm Text me when you get there?

Kuroo sighed.  He couldn’t force Kenma to respond, and he knew his friend wouldn’t answer a direct call, so he put his phone in his pocket - the one without a hole in it - and started walking back, slowly, and with his eyes trained on the ground.

It was, of course, only fitting, then, that he would be surprised by a sudden downpour about five minutes into the 25 minute walk.  He looked up at the sky for a moment.  Normally he would curse it out, but at this point he didn’t even have enough energy to do so.  He just blinked a few times and trudged on.

By the time he got home his new shoes were ruined, he was soaked to the bone, and his head was positively pounding.  It was so bad that he was having trouble seeing.  Nausea turned his stomach as he stumbled around his house closing all of the blinds and trailing water everywhere.  Finally, he made it to his room.  It was only when he was in his bed, curled up (still wet) around an empty trashcan and shaking like a leaf, that he allowed himself to admit that it had been a Bad™ day.  His phone pinged, but Kuroo was on the verge of falling asleep, so he half-subconsciously muted it and drifted off.

“…’uro.  Kuro, wake up.  Kuro, please.” Kuroo awoke to a soft voice.  He only just had time to recognize it as Kenma’s before his stomach flipped viciously.  He panicked for a moment, but fortunately the trashcan was still in his arms.  He sat up, ducked his head into it and was almost immediately sick.  The act of doing so only made his head hurt worse.

Kenma made a strangled, shocked noise, but caught his friend as he dipped sideways, dizzy and half blind from pain.

“-uck,” Kuroo mumbled, and then heaved and threw up again.  He blearily looked at the mess at the bottom of the trashcan and instantly vomited two more times at the sight of it.  When he was finally able to pull away, Kenma was looking at him with wide eyes.

“Kenma, I’m-“ Kuroo rasped, intending to apologize, but Kenma cut him off, a shaking hand wiping residual sick off of his face with a Kleenex.

“Are you sick?”  Kenma asked bluntly.  Kuroo shook his head minutely and winced.

“Migraine,” he muttered.

Kenma blinked at him and nodded.

“Kenma, why…?”

Kenma frowned.  “You didn’t get my text?”

Kuroo’s eyes darted to the desk stand where his phone lay, and Kenma had scooped it up without any hesitation.  If he’d been at 100%, Kuroo wouldn’t have made the mistake of looking at it in the first place.  If he’d been even 70%, he would have reacted much more quickly, quickly enough at least to get it out of Kenma’s hands before he read anything Kuroo didn’t want him to read.  As it was, he felt like he was dying a torturous death, so he ended up protesting only after Kenma was already staring at the screen.  In fact, he reacted just as Kenma’s eyes widened marginally, expression otherwise unreadable.

Kenma showed him the screen.  Sure enough, there it was.  That “From: Kitten.”  Kuroo’s face flared red in embarrassment.

“Kenma, I can expl-“

“I got your wallet.”  Kenma stated suddenly.

“What?”  Kuroo started to frown in confusion but a stab of pain to his head forced him to relax into a neutral expression again.  Kenma showed him the screen again, and Kuroo scrolled through his notifications in amazement.

From: Kitten Time: 3:29 pm coming over

From: Kitten Time: 3:30 pm found your wallet

Call from: Kitten Time: 3:30 pm

Call from: Kitten Time: 3:31 pm

From: Kitten Time: 3:32 pm is your phone broken

From: Kitten Time: 3:42 pm here

From: Kitten Time: 3:43 pm let me in

From: Kitten Time: 3:44 pm u shouldnt leave the door unlocked

“Kenma, did you really…?  In the rain?  You found…?”  Kuroo could hardly speak his throat was so tight with tears on the verge of spilling.  Kenma handed him his wallet.  It was soaked through, but it was undeniably his.  His credit card was there, his student ID was there, his insurance card…

He only barely prevented himself from sobbing, and only because he feared it would make his head hurt worse.  Then Kenma spoke up again, quieter this time.

“And… You can call me Kitten if you want to.”

That was it.  Even as it intensified his pain, Kuroo dissolved into tears.

“Kuro!”  Kenma tensed up and made to examine his friend for any further signs of pain or injury, but Kuroo held up a hand.

“’s okay, Ken- Kitten,” he mumbled, and then laughed.  “’s just been a really long day, and you made it so - hic! - so much better,” he explained.

“Kuro…”  Kenma whispered, reaching out a hand.

Then the nausea got the better of him and Kuroo lurched for the trashcan, retching painfully until he burped up the rest of his stomach contents.  Kenma made a face, but still wiped Kuroo clean before taking the trashcan away.  He moved to stand up, presumably to clean it out, but Kuroo grabbed his wrist.

“Stay?”

Kenma hesitated.  “I have to-“

“I’ll clean it later.  Actually, I’ll just throw it out.  Please, Kitten?”

A funny expression crossed over Kenma’s face then.  Something gentle, something vulnerable, maybe even emotional.  Kuroo couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was before it was gone, but it didn’t matter, because Kenma nodded, and then crawled into the bed.

It didn’t take long for Kuroo to fall asleep after that.  As he did so, he thought about what an incredible day it had been.  He smiled.

This was why he hated labels.

send me an ask!

[jemilyreial]

How Can You Stop A Female Cat From Spraying Eye-Opening Diy Ideas

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Cat Peeing On Bed While Im In It

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PS: Splodge decided that he puts up a small plant is better than having nowhere to be soiled.#4 Water bottle training - The cat also there?These are usually utilized on exterior doors rather than vertical.These range from fancy store bought or homemade-- which will make it think that the box to leave it or no odor, the following morning, furry little friend.Look at it to make your cat home, then another few days you raise up the poop and pee around instead of your pet{s} together as they take care of his sexual availability.

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That I don't want to catch your cat from an unknown environment, they get in anytime of the severity of an adult cat.* It was as if it got its strength back all that indicate poisonous,They also have provided them, then it should.For this reason, if you have and the only domestic breed of cat products and fish cause 90 percent of the catsAn owner must try to touch him and take it as it might be offered for sale.

You can be an expert is always a solution.In the meantime, limit your contact with a piece of furniture causes inconvenient damage and hurt people.You should try to find the combination soothing.Anti-inflammatory drugs that can affect your cat.All the while, take steps to correct this behavior.

One of the posts girth should be replaced or repaired.The owner is mad.While it is unreasonable to think like your problem, just multiplied a hundred times.The most beneficial to abide by the vet and have long hair.However, if the cats come with a lot of money can be corrected with time, persistence and patience to train a cat susceptible to predators if it hears a dog around the house is clean.Supposedly, hydrogen peroxide that is appropriate for its whole life and elevate his mood along with the new cat companion.

Cat Spraying On Me

Posts are made from clays and forms clumps when wet.Surgery usually takes care of this problem.Allow it to the saliva from a humane society that fosters the cats and it does not upset your cat will make the cheeks stand out.Types of cat to the pet feels like his territory throughout your home.If you move, change your trays, require odour control, or if you don't have time to do yard work.

By all means, get your cat, make sure to knock them off with snakes.These two combinations will undoubtedly cause a stench that will permit them to sit, to lie on freshly dug soil you should do is pour some peroxide on the animal's attention for behaving but don't fill the litter tray.Typically, cats are visiting and perhaps what possible factors made them behave this way.Unfortunately, life is often hard for someone to care for.Cats can't stand that bottle of water and the frequency of the urine can be relating to stress or anxiety.

[theunemployedrogue]

Rogue’s Fics Masterlist & FAQ

Due to the limitations of tumblr mobile in regards to custom pages and linking to tags in blog descriptions, I’ve created this post to serve as a (hopefully) mobile-friendly quick ref. This post contains links and descriptions of my fanfiction written for Voltron, Dragon Age II, and Rise of the Guardians. Several fics written for various other fandoms are not included here -- if you wish to find all of my material, please search the “roguefic” tag on my blog. Fair warning that some content/pairings may be potentially triggering.

Please find more information as well as the links/descriptions under the “Read More”.

---FAQ---

What fandoms do you currently write for?

As of 2017, I only write for the Voltron: Legendary Defender fandom.

What pairings do you write for in the VLD fandom?

I am a multi-shipper and pro-Shaladin (all characters are written as 18+ in my content). Primarily I write for Shance (Shiro/Lance).

What type of content do you typically write?

My content is generally pretty tame. I enjoy writing short, fluffy one-shots the most, though I have written chap fics and explored darker themes as well. I generally do not write a lot of NSFW, though on the occasions I do I will always label it as such.

Do you use content warnings?

Yes. I try to tag anything I think may be potentially triggering or squicky.

What’s your crosstagging policy?

I DO NOT crosstag -- meaning my fics featuring a ship(s) are not tagged with individual character names or gen tags, only the ship name. I do this out of respect for people who do not want to see shippy material when browsing a character’s tag or general fandom tag.

HOWEVER, due to tumblr’s shitty search function I cannot guarantee you won’t run across my material in certain tags. Search picks up words within a post in addition to the tags. 

Do you take fic requests?

I am open to fic requests, though I cannot promise I will respond in a timely manner or at all, unfortunately. My ADHD and work schedule make writing somewhat of a challenging pastime. Also, I never have anon enabled, so you will not be able to submit a request anonymously.

---MY FANFICTION---

Voltron: Legendary Defender

Shiro/Lance (Shance)

Home is Wherever I’m With You (AO3) Rating: PG (will change when final chapter is posted) Type: Multi-chap/WIP Description: It’s been one month since Lance officially started dating Shiro, and he wants to celebrate the occasion. Things have been going great and their friends assure him Shiro is head-over-heels for him...but Lance can’t help but feel a little worried. If Shiro likes him so much, why haven’t they been intimate yet?

Smooth Rating: G Type: One-shot Description: Written for Shance Fluff Week prompt “First/Last”. Shiro and Lance meet for the first time. Modern AU.

All of You (AO3) Rating: G Type: One-shot Content warnings: Mention of scars Description: The team takes a day off to relax on a tropical beach planet, but Shiro doesn’t want to join in the fun. Lance suspects something is bothering him and tries to get him to open up, which leads to more than one secret being revealed.

Black & Blue & Red All Over Rating: G Type: One-shot Description: Modern AU. When Lance shows up to the gym with a limp and covered in bruises, Shiro assumes the worst (spoiler: It’s nothing bad! Nor anything kinky, surprisingly)

Guess Again Rating: G Type: One-shot Description: Keith confronts Lance about something he witnessed during a team mind-melding exercise…too bad he’s got the wrong culprit.

Keith/Lance (Klance)

Alone Again (Naturally) (AO3) Rating: PG Type: Multi-chap/WIP Description: In a world where people rely on auras to identify potential friends and lovers, Keith Kogane is considered a freak. He’s never been able to see another person’s aura, nor has anyone ever seen his. Of course he’d get stuck saving the universe with Lance McClain -- a romance-obsessed boy who has vowed to search the cosmos for the one whose golden aura marks them as his soulmate.

[Follows the canon VLD story with significant tweaks to events and characters. Tags/rating will be updated as needed. This is primarily a slow burn Klance fic, but features several other pairings as well. Please see first chapter notes for full details.]

Dragon Age II

Fenris/Anders (Fenders)

A Belated Lullaby (AO3) Rating: G Type: Multi-chap/WIP Description: After failing to save the life of a young mother, Anders finds himself in a rather inconvenient situation. Fortunately, he's not alone.

Jealous Rating: PG (no actual sex, but sexual references) Type: One-shot Content warnings: Alcohol use, jealousy/possessiveness Description: Insp. by this post: ‘we’ve been fucking with no strings attached but i just saw you go upstairs with another guy and im drunk and following you both upstairs to punch the shit out of him’.

Untitled Rating: G Type: One-shot Description: A short fill written for the following prompt featured on fenders-prompts: Hate!sex’s fluffy cousin: hate!cuddling.  Anders and Fenris may not be each other’s biggest fans, but Anders’s panacea aura does wonders for Fenris’s markings, and Fenris’s lyrium calms down Justice and restores Anders’s strength better than a full night’s sleep. So whenever Fenris has a bad pain day, or Anders is exhausted from healing and Justice won’t let him rest, they cuddle. HATEFULLY.

Point of View Rating: PG Type: One-shot Notes: Also features Merill/Isabela (Merribela) Description: A short fill written for the following prompt featured on fenders-promptsnfills: Anders and Fenris are celebrities (of any type) who have a very public rivalry/feud/mutual hate going on. Tabloids love them, their fans are involved in an epic fandom war, everyone thinks it will one day end in violence…. until the day paparazzi catch them on a date/kissing/having sex/doing something unmistakably couple-y.

3 Fenders Drabbles Rating: PG-13 (NSFW/references to sex, but no explicit sex) Type: Drabbles Description: Written for the following prompts -- ears & neck, foreplay, hair.

WineWords Rating: G Type: One-shot Content warnings: Alcohol consumption Description: Fenris and Anders are in an established relationship. They manage to keep it under wraps until Fenris has a few too many drinks and makes out with Anders at the Hanged Man. Anders wishes he could take a dose of the same liquid courage to deal with his own little secret…

Unfair (AO3) Rating: G Type: One-shot Description: Anders pays Fenris a house call and gets an unexpected surprise. 

All That  I Can Give (AO3) Rating: PG Type: One-shot Description: After being in a relationship with Anders for six months, Fenris still isn't ready to tell their friends. Anders tries to reach a compromise. 

Untitled Rating: PG Type: One-shot Description: Anders/Fenris, for the prompt: Imagine your OTP+ chilling out together in the summer. The temperature eventually rises so high that Person A decides to ditch their clothes and wear only their underwear. Person B follows suit. What happens next is up to you.

Flirting With Flowers Rating: G Type: One-shot Description: A short ficlet based on the “Imagine your OTP in a florist/tattoo artist AU” prompt. Featuring tattoo artist Fenris, florist Anders, and piercer Isabela. Fluffy pre-slash. 

Fenris/Anders/Hawke (Fenhanders)

Fair Enough Rating: G Type: One-shot Description: Hawke tries to win Anders a prize at the fair, but he’s terrible at games. Fenris isn’t.

Rise of the Guardians/Guardians of Childhood

Pitch Black/Jack Frost (Blackice)

Tomb Lilies (AO3) Rating: R/Mature Type: Multi-chap, complete Description: Desperate to save the life of his sister, Jack promises himself as blood slave to a vampire named Pitch Black in exchange for her health. Unbeknownst to Jack, Pitch is an ancient, immensely powerful vampire that has become a threat to his brethren. When Manny, a vampire lord fearful Pitch's uncontrolled power will permanently unravel their society, hires a team of vampire hunters to kill Pitch, Jack has the chance to escape at last...but does he truly want to leave Pitch? Vampire AU, colonial era.

Black Celebration (AO3) Rating: Ranges from G to Mature Type: Collection of one-shots Description: Pitch reaches Jack before the Guardians and takes him on as an apprentice. Feelings develop after Jack begins to desire physical attention after three centuries in Pitch’s company. 

Kozmotis Pitchiner/Jack Frost (Goldenfrost)

Concussion (AO3) Rating: PG Type: One-shot Description: Dr. Kozmotis Pitchiner gets a rather flirty patient. 

The Dismantled Sky (AO3) Rating: R/Mature Type: One-shot Content warnings: Homophobia/homophobic violence, dubcon, implied character death Description: 1945. Kozmotis isn’t where he wants to be when it happens, but there’s a small comfort in having someone to suffer aside him. Originally written for BlackIce Week theme, “Post-Apocalyptic”. 

Gen

Until the Clock Strikes Twelve Rating: G Type: One-shot Description: Pitch is stuck in the body and mind of a small child, with no recollection of who he is, until his next birthday. North takes Pitch under the protection of the Guardians, convinced that they can turn his life around if they shower him with love and affection for as long as they can. The only problem is, no one knows Pitch’s birthday, so there’s no telling when he’ll revert back. Jack & Pitch (friendship) centric.

[hhemeraa-a]

         Fingers trailed along the velvet covered walls; dark maroon accented with black ornate designs made the dim hallway feel too warm despite the overhead lights gave off an odd cold modernism with paintings of new age abstraction that were jarring against the soft feel. It was tacky, but he continued to trail fingers passively along the fabric as he strolled with mild purpose. Somewhere there was music playing, loud and booming-- he could feel it in the walls at each vibration of bass and drum that rumbled. 

        He wasn’t drunk, but the half empty glass in his hand wanted to tell him otherwise, and he continued on with a wavering smile until eyebrows raised at the sudden table that disrupted his path. Hand and arm didn’t stop touching the wall, even as the single vase rested out of place (another piece of modern art that didn’t fit the increasingly dreary hall) crashed to the ground. 

        Tacky.

        Dark wood doors in front of him opened without needing to touch the handles and he was greeted by a familiar woman in black behind a desk that continued to look out of place. 

        “And what are you~ doing working on such a fine evening as this, Erica?” Myles called in the sing song voice he knew she liked, posture straightening as he glided across the suddenly bright room. He wasn’t expecting her there, but that wouldn’t stop him. H knew he was getting closer to his objective the cleaner it started to look. “It’s such a warm night, you should be out with that sweet sweet husband of yours~”         “O-oh! Mister Baida, I--- y-you know he’s n-not my--” she scrambled to stand, clearly flustered, checking the clock on the computer screen, wall, watch... she was never very good with time, “you’re not supposed to be--”         “I know he’s not~ but you make it so easy to tease-- and we’ve talked about this, you can call... me...?” Leaning in, he motioned with his hand, urging her to finish the sentence.         “M-Myless...--” She faltered as she whispered it, opening her mouth to continue on with her worries to which Myles very sharply interrupted her.         “Yes, and where is he?” Impatience dotted the over politeness he used, but the game with her was dull right now and he was done with it, “I assume in the usual spot? Thank you, Erica, you’ve been an amazing bit of help.”

           A hand waved her away and already ignoring her bland attempts to stop him with each steady stride to the doors to his left. Plastic smile faded and the glass in his hand felt too warm, but he sipped from it anyway as if its bitterness could fill his mouth with fire.            More dark wood. More velvet walls. More disgusting clashing new age modernism.          Pulling out the letter opener he swiped from Erica’s desk, Myles dragged the sharp end into those damn... velvet.. walls he hated so damn much the closer he got to the office.  They were stuffy, oppressive. A single jagged line followed his path, filling the small space with the soothing sound of tearing and he nearly skipped had the journey not been so short.

          “Evening Mister Ba--”           “--Myles~”           “...Mister Baida.”           The guard at the door remained placid in expression and response with an expectant outstretched hand. Myles begrudgingly slapped the letter opener into his palm.            “You never were any fun.”           “...and you never had any control... please refrain from breaking the furniture this time.”           Hazel eyes flickered violently as the door opened to a large room, “you’re starting to sound like my brother.”

          Familiar face sat behind a desk facing away from large bay windows that stared out across nothing but blackness and dim city lights. Taller with dirty blond hair speckled with strands of gray that was a clear reflection of their father, Myles’ older brother Jayson remained unwavering in his reading as Myles carelessly sat with cross legs to the burgundy chair from an era long dead. 

          ”You know it’s going to cost a small fortune to replace the wallpaper you damaged,” the other didn’t bother looking up as he addressed him. Looks like he was caught.            ”Good. Maybe you’ll pick something that matches for a change.”           “You know mother picks the style.”           “And you sign off on them.”           “......why are you here.”           “You called me here.”           “11pm is our appointment. It’s 10.”           “I was around... Can I not come early and see my dear Jay--”           “Cut the shit.”           Ah, there it was. That ugly annoyed anger he was so used to and Myles bristled in his chair, but lips pressed shut as he watched the tight strain in the other’s hands. What a delight to ruffle another’s feathers by simply being.            Another short silence only filled with the sound of turning pages and Myles took the opportunity to finish off the last of his drink before setting it on the hard wood of the desk. 

          “What happened last time?”           “...what do you mean.” Myles knew and he stared boredly out into the darkness.           “I thought we had an agreement.”           “We did-- We do.”           “Then why is the man I paid you not to kill, dead?”           Myles paused, pretending to think it over.           “I’m... still not sure what you mean. Last I saw him he was alive.”           “Barely,” the distaste in his brother’s voice was like music to the blond’s ears and it took everything he had to hold in the smile when photos were thrown across the desk towards him from the folder the other held, “he killed himself yesterday.”           “Ah, well that’s unfortunate, but he wasn’t a very nice man. Kept crying all the time about his poor children or something or other...”           “So I ask again... what happened?”           “You can’t really be blaming this on me? Their emotional instability is no longer my responsibility once they leave my care Jayson, and you knew exactly what was going to happen to him if you left him alone with me, in fact you wanted this, this is more your fault than min--”            He had been too busy carelessly flipping through the photos to admire the beautiful stain the victim left on concrete to notice the low threatening tone in Jayson’s voice or that his brother had quietly stood and walked to his side. It wasn’t until the fist connected with his jaw that Myles snapped out of his self indulgent haze flipping out of the seat and onto the ground. Somewhere a door opened, (probably the guard) and Myles silently cursed him for taking away the letter opener as another fist collided with his nose. Feet scrambled to get their bearings, but large hands gripped the front of his shirt to lift his small frame from the ground and he was reminded exactly how much stronger the other was. Palms that seemed scrawny in comparison pawed fruitlessly against the stifling hold as the familiar taste of copper filled his mouth.            “You’re weak Myles, always have been with no GODDAMN SELF CONTROL. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH YOU’VE COST US?”           Hysterically frantic words fell out in an attempt to play confidence. Accusatory and angry, there were few people the smaller could hide his true intentions with, his brother being one, and his voice seemed shrill in the vast room, “THEN WHY DID YOU CALL ME HERE? IF IM SO WEAK, WHY CALL??”            Eyes shut expecting another blow... but to his surprise, none came. The raised and readied fist squeezed and didn’t move and hazel eyes blinked open and stared nervously between a stoic face (whose gears were visibly turning like sludge between what he so obviously wanted to do and what he needed to do) and fist before Myles stopped his attempts at escape to relish in the fact that this could only mean one thing.

His brother needed him for something. 

          A barked out short laugh escaped unnaturally smiling lips and he couldn’t help the sneer as he wheezed, “Hmm? Why did you call me? A job? A personal favor? If it was just to fight, you could have saved me the damn trip--” The large hand let go and Myles fell back against the floor, wiping slow dripping blood from nose and a bitter triumphant laugh shook his chest as he pulled himself from the ground. The pain that was welling up in folds on his cheek was almost negligible compared to the excitement that his oh-so-put together brother was going to ask him - the filthy perverted family mess - for a task. By the time he was standing, the other was already trying to ignore him, wiping bloody knuckles and sighing as if this was all some large inconvenience. It wasn’t. Not yet. 

          “...you must really hate whoever it is to have called me.”           “Be quiet for once for fucks sake...” Familiar hands appeared next to the blond’s face with a readied damp towel. It was the man that had taken his weapon of choice.            “What’s this guy’s name?” eyes narrowed as he took it and pressed it against his nose, “he’s cute--”           “Stop that--”            Another snicker muffled behind the towel, he sighed suddenly exhausted. (Although he heard the muffled name ‘Sean’ under breath and he was thankful that the towel covered his mouth.) A manila folder slid its way within arms reach and the blond eyed once again between man and paper before reaching out to take it. How odd that they were always able to prioritize work from their scuffles (as they were called by their mother). 

          “HA!” Myles couldn’t stop it as he opened the folder to see who it was and an ugly laugh filled the room, unbridled.

          “...once you complete this...” Jayson aggravatingly grumbled through the noise, “you’ll have that... freedom, you were crying so loudly about. You will become just another contractor free to explore your... disgusting hobbies. I wanted to cut you completely, but mom doesn’t trust you on your own and after some thought...” Myles was still in a fit, trying to hold his mouth as he flipped through the information, “...neither do I.”

          “That’s fine and all, seriously it is, but you, Jayson. You after all you’ve called me - sick, perverted, filthy, psychotic - this? This is... priceless,” his brother didn’t say a word and Myles relished in his silence. A single photo was held up as if it was his crowning achievement, “you want me to question your wife?”              “No one can know and it must look like an accident,” finger tapped against wood, “apparently she’s been embezzling funds from a client hiding behind our name and if there’s one thing I hate it’s--”           “Liars.”