#// over how he wishes it wasn't him and his sister with this duty sometimes

[armafidelium]

something i look forward to hopefully exploring in his phel's canon verse is him gaining trust in others and kinda just . . . learning to be a person outside of his duty. we'll see how long that kinda stuff takes but i enjoy exploration like that

[irisintheafterglow]

[bernie sanders voice] i am once again.. thinking about coparenting megumi with boyfriend!satoru.

"so you're both megumi's..."

"guardians," you smile politely, praying stupid shit doesn't leave the mouth of the boy next to you. it's wishful thinking.

"yes," he beams so tenderly that you resist the urge to scrunch your nose in disgust. he takes your clammy hand lightly in his and turns back to megumi's teacher. "we had him young." a soft ow comes from under satoru's breath as you kick him under the table, forcing an expression of normalcy onto your face.

you hated parent-teacher conferences because it reminded you just how abnormal megumi and tsumiki's situation was. they had no parents, nor did they have any close relatives that cared for them the way a family should. that left you and the white-haired idiot in the tiny seat next to you to fill in that duty, and between missions and training students, you weren't around as often as you wanted to be.

"i...see," the teacher says hesitantly, eyeing your boyfriend with obvious unease. after a moment, she regains her composure and refocuses on you completely. "is there anything you wish to discuss before we begin?"

"not for me, no."

"when can we get him bumped up a grade? or have him skip one altogether?" every single word that comes from satoru's mouth is a joke but it still has your face burning with embarrassment that you were associated with him. "you know, i skipped a few grades when i was young."

"i can tell," you whisper and he pinches the flesh of your thigh between two fingers in defiance.

"i believe that skipping grades would be unwise at this time, as we haven't done any testing yet-"

"he was kidding, i swear," you say apologetically and, thankfully, the teacher continues as if on a script.

"i see. well, megumi is progressing wonderfully in the class. he's very adept at reading and writing, but he does struggle with math sometimes. it's nothing to be worried about; many children struggle with math at his age." you nod in understanding but grimace inwardly. megs always wanted you to help him with math homework since satoru became frustrated with the problems faster than the actual 2nd grader.

"for being the strongest, he's not that smart," megumi stated bluntly one night while you helped him on a coffee table in the teacher's lounge. you'd sent satoru on a walk around campus after his distress was clearly bothering megumi, who ended up suffering more from satoru's "help" than benefiting. "you're not around that much anymore to help me so i don't know what to do." his tiny eyebrows furrow and you reach out to run your fingers through his spiky black hair.

"i'm really sorry i'm not around as much anymore. do you want me to ask nanami? he handles math all the time."

"i think that'd be worse than satoru."

"you can't get much worse than satoru, buddy," you concede and his mouth turns up a little bit. nothing like a little insulting his mentor to get the boy's mood improved. still, his frown returns like it's his default expression.

"what if i can't do it? what if i'm not like everyone else?" it made your chest ache in a different way when megumi or his sister said something like that, like they were well aware that they weren't normal children. your heart panged for them and mourned their loss of a "normal" childhood just because they were born into a big three clan. it wasn't fair and it was something you lamented to satoru almost every week. you couldn't tell the boy any of that, though, no matter how much you wanted to explain why he wasn't like the rest of the kids in his class.

"just try your best, okay? sometimes, that's all we can do. you're already doing great by asking for help. it's not your fault if someone doesn't know how to help you, so just keep trying." he nodded determinedly; after another hour past dinnertime, you finally finished walking him through the rest of the problems while satoru draped his lanky body over the couch behind you, watching defeatedly over your shoulder.

"is there anything we can do to help him with math?" you ask, unconsciously weaving your fingers with satoru's and giving it a light squeeze. he squeezes back three times. i-love-you.

"he just needs a little reassurance that he's on the right track sometimes."

"mmm, don't we all," you murmur and you don't expect the teacher to laugh softly under her breath, muttering her agreement. before you know it, you've organized megumi's papers into his folder and picked him up from the playground outside his classroom, taking his hand as you walk back to the car.

"your teacher says you're doing well in class."

"really?"

"mhmm, though i didn't need her to tell me that since i already know." you shoot him a small smile, leaning into satoru's body as his arm wraps around your torso. "you, however, need to learn some manners," you lightheartedly tease, knocking your elbow against his abs. "you were not helping in there, you menace."

"it was boring, what do you want me to do?" his tone is so carefree, so comfortingly satoru it made your heart melt.

"it's a parent-teacher conference, not parents. you could have waited outside if you were so bored. went to play on the playground or something." his head dips close to your ear and you feel some strands of his hair brush against your skin.

"but then i don't get to watch you be all mature and put-together."

"trying to follow my example?"

"trying to break your composure," he corrects with a sly grin. "i'm the fun one, after all."

"that's one way to put it," megumi deadpans without hesitation and you stifle a snort.

"i'm one of a kind!"

"you're out of your mind, is what you are." before he can protest, you press a kiss to his cheek and he turns a slightly opaquer shade of pink. "but i wouldn't have you any other way."

[ravenmichaelisstuff]

I think A LOT about Soap trying to give back the childhood Ghost lost. (Part 5)

Ghost sat at his desk, writing down reports from the last couple of missions. Writing down names of soldiers that got KIA, getting their family's contacts sorted out. He was glad that he wasn't the one who had to write the letters with condolences, it was Price's duty. Still, writing down dozens of names every few weeks was wearing off on his mental state. Sometimes he wished he was a lower rank, so all this paperwork wouldn't be his problem.

Ghost hear familiar food steps outside his room, soon after his door swung open and constant blabbering filled his room.

"My ma just called- said my old man feels better already. I told you about his injury, dumb man shouldn't be climbing a ladder at this age. Good that my sister is-"

"I am busy now, Soap" Ghost stopped him. Soap walked up to him and looked over his shoulder.

"Ugh... I could not be doing paperwork, I would fuck it up immediately or leave it for the last minute."

"I am gonna fuck up if I don't finish those by the end of the week."

 Soap stood over Ghost for a second, looking at all the paperwork work. "Alright, Lt. gimme some of them and I will help."

"Johnny you just said-"

"I can do this with clear instructions, Price will have to manage through my spelling mistakes."

Ghost looked at Soap, not knowing if he is grateful or just tired. He didn't realize that he was tearing a corner of one of the pages. "Ok, grab yourself a chair." 

Soap patted Ghost's back and sat next to him, taking in all the work before him. Ghost gathered some of it and passed it to the sergeant explaining what needed to be done.

They worked in silence for like... what, 3 minutes? After that Soap's leg started bouncing, brushing Ghost's knee every now and then. He huffed under his mask.

"So, you were talking about your sister."

"Ye won't mind me talking now?"

"I have divided attention, Johnny." And from that moment Soap talked about the situation in his family house, leg no longer moving. Surprisingly the Scott's energetic voice helped Ghost to fall into a nice work rhythm.

*******

They were filling out the paperwork for at least an hour now and they were both exhausted. Soap wasn’t even talking now, just writing things down and grabbing a corrector when Ghost pointed out a mistake every now and then. Soap was glad that he wasn’t very judgmental about it.

“What about we take a break, Lt.?” Soap leaned back in his chair. “Ye have a whole ass week for this.”

Ghost looked with a blank gaze at all the papers. “Sure, I had enough.”

And they sat in comfortable silence for a while, but Soap wasn’t one to sit in silence for long periods of time, especially when around Ghost. They could be doing so much together!

“Ah’ have a plan!” Soap perked up.

“I am saying ‘No’ to whatever it is.” Lieutenant declared.

“Ye are no fun, just- Do you have like… Who am I asking.” Soap stood up. “I will be right back.”

“I said-” But Johnny was already gone. Ghost didn’t know how the man could just ignore him and what’s weirder he didn’t know why he was letting him. Soap could tell him that he takes him on a trip to some distant part of the world and he would follow- no without bitching about it, but he would. And he didn’t know how to feel about it. Probably panicked.

Soap came back holding his sketchbook and a worn-out, flat box. He sat on the floor, back resting against Ghost’s bed. He gestured for Ghost to sit beside him. Ghost groaned, but did as Johnny wanted. It’s not like he had anything better to do- except the pile of work.

“You came here to brag about your drawing skills?”

“Oy! Ah’ don’t brag!” Soap clearly felt insulted by that.

“You bring it everywhere, Johnny.”

“But I don’t show anyone- That’s beside the point. We are gonna draw something.” He started to go through his sketchbook in search of a blank page.

“I can’t dr-” Ghost could swear he could see his mask on one of the pages, it was for a second before Soap got to the blank pages. Soap couldn’t see the blush that crept on his covered face. 

“I got my old crayons, so we won’t be able to create masterpieces anyway. Yoe are not getting out of this, Lt.” Soap scooted closer to perch his journal on both of their knees. They had to sit with their legs flushed together. How did Ghost not mind?

Soap stuck the small box between their knees. “Come on, you have one page and I draw on the other.” He already had a green crayon in hand. “You can just draw whatever comes to yer mind. It really helps with stress, well - helps me at least.”

Ghost certainly needed that now, so he grabbed himself a black crayon. Soap smiled and focused on his own side, while Ghost doodled mindlessly. It actually was pretty soothing, especially since their hands were brushing against each other. Ghost was so focused on not freaking out that he didn’t realize that Soap was now looking at his page.

“Is that a carrot?” Soap pointed to one of the doodles. Ghost sighed.

“It was supposed to be a nuke.”

“Ooooh, yeah I can see that now.” Soap was now totally in Ghost’s space, drawing things right next to his ‘drawings’. “What about this?”

“Half a dog.”

Soap snorted. “You are terrible, Simon.” They drew together for a while, Soap’s page forgotten.

“What about you draw something big to finish the page?” Sergeant proposed.

“Wouldn’t know what.”

“First thing that comes to yer mind. I will close my eyes, and see if I can tell what it is.” He chuckled and closed his eyes.

The first thing that comes to mind, huh? Ghost looked for a minute on relaxed Soap, his eyes closed, smiling. Right next to him.

He got to work. What he drew did not look like he wanted at all, but he really tried. And come on, he doesn’t know when was the last time he held a crayon in his hands. When he finished, he just moved his leg, to let Johnny know. He opened his eyes.

In the middle of the page, was a huge wonky drawing of him smiling. 

Soap’s heart swelled up- the first thing Simon thinks about is him,

I AM SPEED. I don't know why but this thing puts me in such a creative mood and I get so much motivation from all the comments <3 It's just so relaxing to write those. I hope you all like it <3

I might be projecting on Soap with the dyslexia.

Oh and I forgot I did this because I felt like it would be adorable.

[perseephoneee]

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓥

In which, you, a lady of the ton, are forced to participate in courting season. Except that courting season comes with one particularly silver tongued Prince who is making it his mission to drive you absolutely insane.

↳ fic masterlist  ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist

a/n: i'm so sorry for the delay in this. i was in spain this past month, and then i was finishing out my classes before i graduate!!! i am graduating this next Saturday with my bachelors which is crazy. and then i'm off to Columbia journalism school for the summer. i'm basically just rory gilmore at this point. anywho...thank you for being patient with me. i love you all.

Vulnerability was not something you often expressed, and unfortunately, it opened a floodgate of emotions you weren't ready to approach. Every night that passed was plagued with the same sly grin or those mischievous green eyes. You felt yourself going crazy, waking up with a beating heart and shaky hands. You needed to get your act together and fast. Even your family was starting to notice your strange behavior.

It was already evening, and you had another dreaded dance to attend. Apparently, there were professional dancers this time. Anything to entertain the Queen, of course. You stared at yourself in the mirror, a sage green dress hanging from your figure, delicate beads embellishing the bodice. With gentle hands, you also put on a golden locket, one of the last things you had of your mother. Sometimes, you wished it was societally appropriate for women to wear breeches. They were much more comfortable anyway and made for a better escape.

Ivy was already waiting in the carriage when you arrived. Grandmother liked to always take her own carriage, something you appreciated more often than not. It allowed you to be left alone with your own thoughts. You sighed deeply when your back hit the cushion, and the horses carried you off. Ivy shot you a look. 

"I thought you would be more excited to be seeing your lover," she cooed, slapping your knee playfully. 

"I find these events exhausting," You sighed, brushing your hair out of your face. "And he's not my lover."

"That's not what I've heard," Ivy said. "The grapevine whispers of an imminent engagement. I heard Grandmother discussing it with a representative from the Odinson home."

That was news. News that caused a pit in your stomach rather than butterflies. Marrying Thor was the goal, was it not? He was kind and respectful and would make a suitable husband. Still, you couldn't help but feel resent the idea. Ivy noticed the look on your face. 

"You don't want to marry him."

"I didn't say that," you tutted, folding your arms defensively. 

"It's evident by the sour look you wear," she frowned, but not from disappointment. More so, concern. “Y/N.”

"I will do my duty; is that clear?" You hissed. Any other person would've recoiled from your sharp tone, but Ivy had known you too long. She placed a hand over yours, every part soft and nurturing. 

"It is alright to say no," Ivy said softly. For the first time in a long while, she felt every bit your older sister and not the ditz your Grandmother loved to portray her as. "You have permission to say no."

You didn't get the chance to respond as the carriage pulled to a stop. Her words soothed your heart in a way you didn't expect. Permission to do something for yourself wasn't anything you'd heard before. It was always the expectation that you would protect your family and secure your future. No one had ever told you that you were allowed to choose otherwise. 

Entering the ballroom, cream gauze adorned the walls, accompanied by flickering candlelight. The mood was intimate, and everyone seemed to twinkle like the fountain in the middle. A performance was occurring with scantily clad dancers, but you weren't fazed. You're sure the ton would have something to say about it, though. Unlike them, you found being able to see their bodies to make the movements captivating, and you envied how they moved with such freedom. You were so enraptured by the dance that when you eventually noticed the Odinson brothers across the room, you froze up. Ivy hadn't left your side yet, and you grabbed her hand, hoping she'd stay by you. She gave you a worried look, but you ignored her. You were insanely nervous. If a proposal was imminent, then your anxiety was going to get the best of you. This is what you want; you kept chanting to yourself, hoping to believe it.

You saw Thor try to make his way over to you, and you quickly ducked behind a couple, dragging Ivy along with you. You kept finding ways to have someone blocking the path to you and the blond prince. At some point, you fetched a drink and had it in one go, smiling kindly at the waiter, who looked at you bewildered. You let Ivy's hand go when you reached for the drink, and she maneuvered off despite your protests. Hiding in the back, you allowed yourself to grab a second drink right as the dance ended. Unfortunately, that meant the path to you was straightforward, and Thor quickly approached. 

"M'Lady, it has been an adventure to reach you all night," he smiled. You quickly put the glass back on the tray and looked him in the eye. 

"Apologies, your grace, the…dance was quite enrapturing," you choked out, feigning a smile. 

"Dancing can be quite entertaining; I always fancy myself a dance with a beautiful woman when I can," Thor looked out to the crowd with his hands clasped, returning your gaze fondly. You heard the orchestra ready a waltz as Ivy walked close to you. You cut off Thor right as he was about to ask you to dance. 

"My sister is an excellent dancer; you should give her a twirl," you grabbed Ivy as she walked by, forcing her in Thor's direction and quickly maneuvering away. You couldn't deal with suitors at this point. That meant potential marriage proposals, and frankly, you were terrified at the prospect of getting proposed to right now. 

Your quick escape led to an unfortunate collision with the only other prince you were hoping to avoid– Loki. He stabilized you before quickly pulling his hand away as if you were a fire too hot to touch. His green eyes look at you inquisitive before his lips pull up into a smirk. 

"Running away from the ball? Scandolous." He cooed. Your brows draw down at his smirk, rolling your eyes. He gives a glance at the waltz. "Care to join me?"

"Excuse me?"

"Typically, when a gentleman asks you to dance, one answers' yes' or 'no,'" Loki chides. "So, care to join me?"

You paused, taking him in before giving him a slight nod. He extends his hand and leads you out onto the floor. You can feel Ivy's gaze on you, but you ignore her as you both bow to each other. The music starts, the cello reverberating through the room as you take the first step into the movements. Loki never takes his eyes off you, something that would unnerve you if you didn't live in a fantasy world. His eyes were a forest in which you could perpetually wander. His hands reached for yours, twirling you around before capturing you close. You felt your breath hitch at your proximity and, luckily, could move away before you showed how his presence affected you. When the dance ended, you bowed before leaving, looking for any exit outside. 

You sighed in relief as the cold air touched your skin, caressing your cheeks. You heard the door close behind you and couldn't tell who you hoped it would be more. 

"Lady Chilton," Thor's voice spoke, disturbing the quiet of the night. You turned around, taking in his gentle expression. 

"Your grace," you breathed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "You startled me."

"Thor, you can call me Thor," he chuckled, hands clasped behind his back. "I was hoping to talk to you." Your heartbeat picked up, but you nodded, brows furrowed. 

"You can always talk to me."

Thor pauses. 

"I had planned to ask for your hand in marriage."

Your brain processed his words. It took you a second for them to register. "You had planned?"

"It has nothing to do with your character," Thor reassured. "I find you quite intelligent."

"But you no longer plan to propose?"

"You don't want me to propose; I can see it clear as day," Thor, for his part, doesn't look upset. "I am not the one you want…I respect that."

"The one I want?"

"I admire you deeply, which is why all I wish for you is a love match," Thor smiled. "I never would've been able to keep up with your wit anyway."

"I'm…sorry for disappointing you," you say, feeling immense guilt. 

"You could never disappoint me, Miss Y/N," Thor smiles. You soften, taking in the tall prince. Thor was kind and gentle but masculine. You should be head over heels for him for all intents and purposes. But you just couldn't find yourself to feel that way. 

"I hope we can continue being friends," you say sadly. 

"I expect you will be more like family," he nods. "I wish you the best, Lady Chilton."

"Thor, I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"You will; my brother is not a patient man."

And with that, he left you alone in the courtyard. The door closed with a click, and an owl hooted overhead. The sky was a navy blue, the clouds obscuring the moon hanging over your head. As the breeze picked up and the leaves rustled, you pondered over Thor's parting words. 

My brother is not a patient man.

taglist: @gruftiela @eleniblue @iwrite-things @youneedanap @huntress-artemiss @linaax @pisces-celeste @marygoddessofmischief @saay-karani @choki.laufeyson @foxherder @lover-of-books-and-tea

[hestzhyen]

Kagurabachi Chapter 42 Nonsense Takes-

Holy shit. Dear internet void, I'm on the edge of my seat. This CHAPTER man! Several key moments from Ch. 20 are paying off here in a satisfying way.

This time, Hiyuki is the one who wavers when her convictions are contested:

Caught between duty, desire, and her own limitations... not a great feeling is it? She's in the same position now that Chihiro was facing off against her in Ch. 20. I feel like Chihiro's heroics will push her forward much like Hakuri's words did for him. Can't wait to see more of her after this arc and how she reconciles her noble beliefs with the selfish pragmatism of the Kamunabi. Not to mention how she'll manage her pride while reconsidering her rather dismal evaluation of Chihiro from earlier in the chapter.

Speaking of the Kamunabi, though... the older guys who have experienced the horrors of the Seitei war try to be realistic about the situation:

[Shaking Shiba like a maraca] WHAT'S YOUR BACKSTORY MR. OFFSCREEN SORCERER?

They very understandably want to cut their losses and reduce the risk of death for their younger allies. With terrifying artifacts like Magatsumi being necessary, the Seitei War really must have been hell on earth. Better to save what you can than risk losing everything on a bet and all that. I think this will be the meaty, scrumptious crux of the conflict between Chihiro and the Kamunabi whenever he ends up clashing with them in the open. All for the greater good vs. the greatest good for all, pragmatism vs. idealism- I am hype!

And yet the idealistic duo of Chihiro and Hakuri are going to stake their lives on making a miracle. Across the hall, without being able to speak to each other or hear what's being said over the chaos, they still understand what the other is thinking and wants to do. I love these two so much.

Hakuri recalling the conversation with Chihiro during the elevator ride in Ch. 20 when they first met. He knows his samurai's heart.

(Ch. 20 vs 42) Liar, liar, pants on fire. Fakest IDGAFer ever ready to risk his life to save a bunch of strangers, just like he said he wasn't interested in doing.

These. Guys! ARE! THE! BEST!

But there's certainly going to be a price paid for this- the toothpick bidding guy said as much. Chihiro can't win it all, no matter how strongly he feels about having his cake and eating it too. So what's going to get fucked up? Well, pick your poison(s) on how Chihiro's idealism will be tempered:

Chihiro and Hakuri fail to save all the hostages

Hakuri overexerts himself and is incapacitated/dies

The Rakuzaichi isn't ended for good

Magatsumi falls into the wrong hands

Chihiro/Hakuri is/are captured by an enemy

Failure to Save Innocents This scenario is somewhat likely, I think. We're doing Ch. 20 callbacks so may as well go all-in here. It's also been the biggest sticking point this chapter. "We (YOU) can't save everyone." Be pragmatic when weighing good actions vs. the cost of doing them. Understand your limits, work hard, and be ready to cut your losses. Be willing to accept that someone could die. Chihiro struggles with this for obvious reasons. He's a heroic badass, but also a traumatized kid. A human. He's got limits and he's got to acknowledge them at some point. Even if Ms. Inazuma is saved, he might not be able to tag all the captives before Hakuri has to pull him out. This would be absolutely devastating to him as a brutal but very needed wake-up call before he overestimates himself in a situation with higher stakes. And, man... if Chihiro has to come back to Mr. Inazuma and tell the poor kid that he couldn't save his sister... god, that would be awful for everyone. Idealism alone can't save lives, nor wishing for it, nor trying your best. Sometimes you can't save everyone and end up losing everything. I think this is a bit too downer but it's not completely out of the question.

Hakuri Fucking Dies One of the two outcomes here is almost definitely going to happen. I went on a few several thousand-word screeds about Hakuri's significance and how much I love this slightly insane little goober. There's plenty of good reasons to think he'll stay a permanent member of the cast, and if I'm being honest, I think it's a little early for Chihiro to lose an ally. We need a little more time to get attached and invested in the core crew he assembles before one of them is offed. And yet... While I think Shiba's "you'll both die!" line is just to amp up the tension, this...

I will kill everyone at the Rakuzaichi and then myself if anything happens to this kid.

... isn't looking good. At all. Knowing that Hakuri's basically had a full arc at this point means I can't just handwave away the chance he'll be the price Chihiro pays for his naive optimism. Because that's exactly why they're both doing this: Chihiro's expectations for himself are too high and unrealistic. And he's Hakuri's guiding light. Whatever Chihiro wants to accomplish, Hakuri will back him up with everything he has. He's pushing himself too far for Chihiro's sake and we'll all cry if that means he pays the ultimate price.

I think it's most likely that Hakuri will come out of this severely injured, though. Not dead, but close to it and unable to act for a while. It would teach the same lesson without breaking my heart so please, please let this be the variant chosen if Hakuri must be offered up. Protect his smile and give him the chance to learn that he deserves to be loved as he is.

The Rakuzaichi Yet Proceeds So this one would be interesting as hell IMO. There's a case for this due to the fact that, despite reappearing on the stage in the real world, neither Chihiro nor Hiyuki actually touch it. Only Kyoura does.

God I love the perspective shots

A big point was made in Ch. 33 about how inviolable this wooden platform is:

Lotta prestige tied to keeping people off a glorified wooden pallet, but hey what do I know. I'm not a human trafficker or abusive parent brainwashed into serving a merchant cult family.

So even when the whole thing seems poised to come crashing down, Kyoura alone remains worthy to stand on it. And if we don't see any non-Sazanami clan members step on it by the end of the arc, I think that's a signal that things aren't quite done with them yet. Or at the very least, their legacy will live on untarnished despite the head of the family falling in combat. They could become legends in the underworld for maintaining the sanctity of the Rakuzaichi until the very end. Not very wholesome for Team Goldfish, but hey, it's a comparatively small price to pay. I've got a lot of thoughts about what various scenarios would mean, but I'll wait until we actually see what happens before speculating too much. I will, however, do some Hakuri agendaposting while I'm here though!

I would find it incredibly tasty if Hakuri managed to stand on the stage at the very end somehow. Just for one last hearty "fuck you" to his sperm donor, you know? And to satisfy the part of my monkey brain that loves total vindication. The "worthless" kid who was instrumental in bringing down his family standing in the sacred zone he was supposed to protect, but was deemed unworthy of... that he rejects wholeheartedly while being the first since the progenitor to inherit both signature sorceries... yesssss. Especially considering this:

RIP Tenri, gone too soon

I go feral for stuff like this. Hakuri is the Special Boy. He deserves the moment, if he can figure out a way to get there before he collapses after helping Chihiro.

Magatsumi Goes MIA Once More I think this is the most likely price to be paid. Chihiro's heroics will cause him to miss out on recovering the Super Evil Sword, which could end up just about anywhere at this point. Recovered by the Kamunabi, the Hishaku clan swooping in to take it, the wielder using Kyoura's body to abscond with it to parts unknown... anything's possible! But probably not Team Goldfish escaping into the night with it. Saving people at the cost of missing his big chance to recover his father's "masterpiece" seems like an appropriate setback for Chihiro right now. It'll throw his plans into disarray and really force him to look at his priorities and strategies thus far. Team Goldfish are mighty but they can't take on two massive orgs like the Kamunabi and Sazanamis at once, especially if the Hishaku are meddling. He'll get his reality check and prepare to make hard choices in the future. Save everyone, every time, and chase the blades forever? Or entertain a slightly less idealistic mindset to better the chances of success? Very tantalizing potential here, yes yes. It also ties in nicely with the main talking point of this chapter- much better than losing an ally would, at any rate.

Capturiffic Times I think this is the least likely given the circumstances, but may as well mention it just in case. Both Chihiro and Hakuri are worn down to their last dregs and aren't in a position to fend off anyone that could come at them. Maybe Hiyuki decides to capture Chihiro to take him to the Kamunabi instead of killing him, while Shiba retreats with Hakuri? Or Hakuri is captured by the Kamunabi/remaining Sazanamis while Shiba prioritizes escaping with Chihiro? Shiba gives himself up to let Chihiro and Hakuri run? Again, seriously doubt this scenario. They might not get out in one piece or with everything they hoped for, but I'm pretty sure that Team Goldfish will be able to flee to fight another day.

Anyway. Yapped too much again. Thank you void for letting me ramble into your uncaring ear once more. See you next week, probably.

[hpalways]

jelou <3 this is a request that can be a bit sad :')) for trey clover, vil schoenheit, rook hunt and jamil viper when their fem mc, with a melancholy smile, tells them that since she was very little she had to become "the mother" and take care of all the children in her orphanage, due to the absence of responsible adults, so now that she is in nrc so she is trying to recover a little of her lost childhood and do what she likes for the first time ^°^, sjsj Thanks and have a good day /ᐠ. .ᐟ\ฅ

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Character(s): Trey Clover, Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Jamil Viper x Fem!Reader (separate)

Summary: They knew how responsible you were -- how much of your childhood was used up on duties that a mere child should never have to do. So now, to see you smile, that was all they could ever wish for.

A/N: You as well! Also mb I wasn't sure whether you wanted hcs or drabbles, so I'm just gonna write drabbles for them.

Trey Clover

Trey thought you were quite alike to him. He sometimes caught himself thinking that you were... mature... thoughtful... resilient. It was strange. He had never thought of someone in that way, but the way you spoke of things, it would always strike a chord in him.

So when he saw you there on the balcony, gazing upon the views of Night Raven College, he knew. He knew he wanted to speak to you.

Your [h/c] hair furled along the slight breeze, and your eyes were distant, in a world unimaginable from here. As he approached you, he stared upon you with a soften gaze, never before seen with anyone else. He wondered why he held such a soft spot when it came to you.

You finally noticed his presence, glancing over to see his familiar dark green hair and gold-hazel eyes behind those rims.

"Trey," you said with a gentle smile. He found it very nurturing somehow. Really, a simple smile from you was nurturing.

"What are you doing here all alone?" he asked you, coming up right beside you.

"Been thinking of some stuff..." you trailed off. It left him intrigued, it really did. Oftentimes, it seemed you had much more to say, but you would not elaborate, as if you didn't wish to burden anyone else. But he wanted to hear it. He wanted you to know that he did.

"What's on your mind?"

You blinked at him, somehow surprised by his response. And for whatever reason, whether it was just the two of you, or you were feeling nostalgic in this moment, or he was watching you with such patience, you wanted to tell him of the weights on your shoulders. You gave him a smile in return, a mixture of slightly sad and content. "I was from an orphanage and back then, I had to take care of the little ones. They were practically my brothers and sisters, to which I love them. But... it's changed so much. Being here at Night Raven College, I finally figured something out."

He stayed there, listening, being the perfect one to bear your problems.

You took a deep breath. "I missed out on a lot as a kid. I was a kid raising other kids, so I never had the chance to live as a kid myself. So I'm realizing I need to start living for my past self, starting now. There's so much I wish to experience, so much that could fulfill my child self's dreams."

He believed you beautiful. So beautiful and strong as you spoke of your hardships and regret. But there was no regret. Just a determination to redeem to yourself. He now knew why he saw so much of himself in you.

"I'll help you with this."

"You don't have to do anything!" you said, shocked by his offer. "I'm already so grateful that you're hearing me out."

"I want to," he stated, leaving no room for protest. "What do you wish to experience first? I will do anything to make it possible."

You cracked a grin, this time not as melancholy and bittersweet. "Can we prank Riddle?"

He pushed his rims up his nose bridge and looked down seriously. "I said 'everything'... but, this... this... absolutely not."

Truly, the two of you were like the parents of the dorm of Heartslabyl.

Vil Schoenheit

You had this presence that Vil could never put a finger on. Quite different from the rest of the student population at Night Raven College. Was it because you came from this... other world?

Today, he had the honor of putting on makeup to your face. He had always wanted to; the structure of your face and your features was his perfect canvas. He could see much potential within you, a whole vision. By the end of it, he expected you to be glowing.

His face neared yours, his attention focused on his job at hand. He could see your blemishes, your flaws, your pores, but he loved it. He loved it when it came to you, because it made you feel more human -- more connected to him. "This will come together, I know it," he whispered to you.

And to those words, for some reason, it made you burst into tears.

Vil had never been so disrupted.

"What's wrong?!" he said, frantically grabbing tissues to blot the tears before they ruin your makeup.

"Sorry..." you murmured. "I'm just really happy."

He raised his brows, his light purple eyes shadowed in confusion. "Whatever do you mean by that?"

"I've never had a makeover like this before and I just remember wanting one so bad. Here I am now, thanks to you, Vil."

He crouched down to meet your sitting level, his warm hand grabbing onto yours. "Explain to me."

"I grew up in an orphanage and because I was older than most, I took care of the others. I didn't have the time to dress myself up or have friends who would do makeovers with me. And there was a time when I saw this most stunning lady from the street. I was amazed by her makeup and outfit, but overall, the aura she carried. You're like her too, Vil. You carry a confidence that I aspire to be."

His fingers came up to wipe at your tears, so tender and caring. "You will be, [Name]. So don't cry anymore. I will turn you the fairest of them all. You will live your dreams, no matter what. I can guarantee that."

Your tears stopped and you started to laugh. He watched you, astonished, feeling his heart racing at the sight. Indeed, you really were glowing... and it was not just the makeup.

Rook Hunt

He watched you for a while now, sensing the troubles that had been bothering you. But Rook couldn't seem to figure out what the troubles were. It certainly didn't seem like it came from school, the other students, or the blotting situations occurring here at Night Raven College. Rather, it was something else.

A hat was plopped over your head, blocking your vision. You tilted your head back to finally see a blonde bob and a grin. "Mademoiselle, you are looking radiant today!"

"Rook," you said in surprise. "How are you today?"

"Kindhearted as always, I see," he responded, smiling. "But I'm worried, my dear."

"Of what? What's wrong?" You furrowed your brows.

"Of you, of course. Are you alright?"

You blinked in surprise. "You noticed?"

"I notice everything when it comes to you."

A small chuckle left your lips, followed by a sad smile. "I guess you do. Sorry, yeah, I just... I've been feeling weird lately. Like I'm missing out on a lot. My childhood experience was not... the best, to say the least. I had to help out the orphanage and take care of the kids. Being here at Night Raven College might be the first chance for me to live out my childhood dreams. Is this silly? It is, isn't it?"

He shook his head immediately, his heart squeezing in pain at your truth. Was this why he kept such a close eye on you? There was so much more he wished to learn from you. Indeed, you were the enigma to the enigma himself, Vil. "Non. Not at all silly. In fact, come with me! Why don't we live out your dreams together?"

His outreached hand was in front of you, waiting.

You grinned, pushing the burn of oncoming tears down. "Okay."

Jamil Viper

"Can I braid your hair?" you asked Jamil one day. There was something so eager to you today that it nearly tempted him to say yes.

Instead, he made a face. "What? No."

Your face was immediately down casted, more disappointed than he expected to see. He was shocked as guilt flooded his system. Why did you want to do this so badly? Was braiding someone's hair that big of a deal?

"Okay, fine," he sighed, turning his back against you.

"I didn't mean to pressure you!" you said, holding your hands up. "I wanted to try braiding someone else's hair for once."

"You've never braided hair?"

You took in the gorgeous, brown strands that Jamil honed. They were so healthy and long, accentuating his darker skin and figure. You knew he took great care of his hair.

"No... my orphanage was pretty strict when it came to how us girls styled our hair." Your fingers slipped through them, soft to the touch. Something about holding his hair was so vulnerable; it was like a strong piece of him. "So I've always wanted to braid someone's hair. Thank you for letting me do this."

"Orphanage?"

"Yes. I was kind of like the mother to the other kids. I didn't have the time to do anything for myself. Am I doing this right?"

He swept his braided hair over his shoulder to look at it, only to burst out laughing. Your cheeks warmed in embarrassment, though smiling slightly at his amusement.

"Come here," he said eventually. There was no way around it. Hearing your story made him want to do so much for you. He was sincerely ready to give it all to this person, you, and he couldn't understand why. He grabbed at your shoulders and turned you around this time. "I'll braid your hair."

Your eyes started to mist, and you looked over your shoulder. "Thank you. Seriously."

Flustered, he nodded and diverted his attention to your hair. "Of course."

[the-bar-sinister]

Run Away With Me (4279 words) by thesavagesabretooth Summary: Phoenix gets the final push he needs to come ask Maya to come back with him. Maya gets the final push she needs to finally follow her heart, instead of her grim duty.

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October 2, 2028– 11:15 am

Phoenix had been going to visit Maya in Kurain every week since she'd returned to the states in June. Sometimes– often– she wouldn't have much more time than to say hello, and maybe have a cup of coffee, but he still made the hours-long bus ride there just the same, without fail. It didn't matter how much time she had for him. It just mattered that she was there.

He straightened his tie as he arrived at the small bus stop overshadowed by the great stone standing outside the main family’s manor. It hadn’t changed in years– honestly, it was likely it hadn’t even changed in decades from the old wood and the archaic design. 

Phoenix would have believed that the bus stop was exactly the same in Maya's mother's and grandmother's time as it was that very day. In fact, he was sure that was the case for most of the village.

He glanced around to see if Maya was there to meet him that day, or if he'd have to go and find her. 

The bushes by the bus stop rustled…once…twice…and out leapt a figure clad in purple and white to tackle him in a hug. “NIIIIIiiiiiick!” 

Nick yelped in surprise, but caught her in his arms and carried the energy of her tackle into a whirl with the both of them, grinning. "Maya! You took another few years off my life!"

Maya squeezed him tightly, grinning from ear to ear under her dark fringe of hair. 

“Shit, I’ll have to be careful. You’re getting on in years. You need ‘em, old man.” 

"Ouch, right in the pide," he chuckled with her, letting her down to the ground as he continued to hug her. "You're in good spirits today. I'm glad to see it."

“Don’t tell anyone, I’ll lose their respect as Village Elder.” Maya chuckled as she settled back on her feet. She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m just …ya know…”“I missed you, and believe it or not…I actually have a little free time today.” 

Phoenix felt himself light up when she said so, and it showed on his face. "You do? That's fantastic."

Maya grinned and poked his cheek. 

“Yep. I’ve got some of the old farts in the sub family handling a couple meetings I don’t gotta attend, so…” She looked over her shoulders “Until someone comes to rain on my parade, we’re golden. You want some tea?”

"I'd love some," he said, slipping one arm around her shoulder. "Unless you have enough time to run back to LA with me for a burger."

He didn't really dare to hope that she could, but he was always going to suggest it.

Maya’s smile faltered for the first time since she’d seen him.

“Ugh… I wish…I haven’t had meat in like, weeks, WEEKS Nick. I’m dyin’ for a good burger but…I mean.” She rubbed her arm “...the people need me , and I could get called back into action any second. You know? I got time, but I dunno if I have ‘hours on the bus both ways’ time.” 

He squeezed her close to him and shook his head. "I get it. Don't worry. I brought snacks, anyway. I know how you are. Let's have that tea and I can enjoy watching you tear into them."

Maya laughed into her hand as she backed away and offered her hand with a grin .“You know what I like, Nick.”

It was crazy how much she’d started to look like Mia over the years. She’d grown, considerably, to the point it was almost hard to tell when she channeled her older sister anymore on the rare occasions she tried.

It was very clear in the warm mountain sunlight, at least, with the way the robes fell on her body. 

There was an unnerving element to it, sometimes, but mostly, Phoenix just found it amazing how much time had passed between them, and how much it had marked them both.

It wasn't as if he was the same man he'd been when they met, either. He'd grown quite far apart from that man in fact, over the years, and thought for a while that he'd never see him in the mirror again. That was changing now, though, and he was still working on ways to change it even more.

"Some big news this week," he said, catching her up with the goings on at the Wright Agency as he always did, as they made their way to her place.

“Ooooh, big news huh? Did Charlie sprout legs and start pullin’ his weight?” She led him under the arch to the family garden and towards the side door. 

"I wish!" he laughed, stepping through the garden with her. "No, it's weirder than that. Trucy went to Khura'in with Klavier."”

“Wuh wuh WHAT???” Maya jolted physically, and all the veneer of ‘Master Fey’ mystique vanished in an instant at her goofy and dramatic gasp. “Trucy went to Khura’in??? With Klavier Frickin’ Gavin??? To Khura’in?????” 

He nodded, holding her arm to make sure she didn't trip. "Yeah. They're going to bring Apollo back to the states, apparently. I hope they're going to try to convince him, but they were at least joking about tying him up and smuggling him in a suitcase."

She whistled, sliding the door open with a shake of her head “some kinda bonkers rescue mission then? I guess she really missed the guy….hope they’re gonna be alright. Khura’in is goin’ through some hard times last I heard.” 

"Yeah, Apollo's been swamped," Phoenix nodded as they headed into the house. "I hear him and Sadmadhi are the only ones doing the job. And that's not even the political stuff. There's a lot of responsibility on their shoulders."

“Ghhh…” Maya grimaced as she shuffled off her shoes and stepped into her house slippers. “I’m not surprised. Ga’ran amok with a country’s legal system’ Sigatar Khura'in didn’t exactly leave things in a great state. I hope they can book it soon…it wasn’t bad there, but..”

She shook her head, and Nick saw a momentary sadness cross her face “it gets lonely when all you’ve got time for is your responsibility and work that never ends.”

It was personal, he knew that. Even Pearl and Iris had all but moved as far as they could away– which meant Maya was up here with only the occasional visits and the title of ‘Master’. 

It has been weighing on Nick's mind. It has been weighing on his mind for months. But never more than in these last few days. 

He thought about the item he'd brought in his bag, along with the snacks. 

"It sure does get lonely," he murmured. "But hey, if they bring him back, maybe you can actually meet Apollo."

She tugged him in after he switched his shoes, into the long hall surrounding the central courtyard of her Japanese styled manor home.

“You know, I’d like to? He seemed like a pretty cool guy the few times I caught like– half a sight of him.” 

"Yeah you guys didn't have much chance to get to know one another in Kuhra'in, sadly," he said, following her into the manor. 'I feel like you guys would get along."

“He always looked so serious!” She laughed as she rounded the corner past the former display area of the Urn of Ami Fey…where Phoenix had once seen Pearl playing with her ball. “You don't think I'd annoy the guy?”

"No way. You'd be surprised by how annoying he is too." Phoenix snickered– though he glanced nostalgically at the spot. Pearl was 18 now, going on 19, and enrolled in the police academy, hoping to become a detective.

Maya glanced out at the courtyard before she tugged him into one of the rooms…a large living room style space with a stove sunken into the center of the room, surrounded by old scrolls and dividers bearing the legacy of the Kurain tradition.

And of course the series of familiar mats around the stove that Maya instantly patted for him to sit atop as she got the pot.

Pearl had grown so much, and pursued a dream nobody had really expected. But this room didn’t look any different than the last time he’d arrived. Hell, it still looked the same as it did that second time she’d been accused of murder.

“No shit? Then we’ll get along like a house on fire.” 

Phoenix took a seat and started pulling snacks out of his bag and arranging them on the table for Maya. There were chips, cheese snacks, jerky, and boxes of instant noodles, and more. 

"Like a house on fire sounds about right. So I'm hoping they'll get him back just so I can get a front row seat."

Maya laughed. 

“Gonna drag him all the way out to Kurain eh? I’d ask if he liked the mountains and uh…” She looked around the room as she filled the teapot from a small spigot in a kitchenette off to the side. “A rustic atmosphere. But if he’s living in Khura’in, he’s gotta love it.” 

"I'm sure he'll be thrilled," Phoenix chuckled. He shuffled through the contents of his bag, and hesitated as he grabbed the folder inside, debating with himself.

Maya turned with a broad grin “OH SHIT!” she pointed to the table “you brought me noodles!!!” 

Phoenix left the folder where it was and grinned. "I wasn't gonna come without your goodies, Maya."

Maya trotted over and dropped the teapot on the burner with a slight splash of thankfully cool water from its spout. 

“You’re my hero, Nick! My literal, actual hero!” She picked up the jerky with a broad grin. “MEAT!” 

"Wish I could have brought you some actual burgers, but I figured it was better than nothing." He chuckled, leaning on his hand and watching her.

She flopped down, holding up the jerky like something holy. 

“I’ll eat this in memory of you, Nick.” with a giggle, she opened it up and took a big bite with her eyes closed “...It’s been nuffin’ but rice and pickles and veggies for weecksh and weecksh…”

Her mouth was full, her manners as atrocious as ever, but at least she looked happy.

It made him nostalgic, and he felt a swell of affection. "I know it's part of the whole medium thing but it always feels a little rough to me to force you to go without."

“It’s traditional.” She said after she swallowed “and if there’s one thing we love in Kurain it’s tradition!”

She looked down at the jerky in her hands with a chuckle. “There’s always tradition.” 

"There sure is," he sighed. He reached back in his bag– then took his hand out and shook his head. He looked back over at Maya. "But there's other stuff, right?"

“There’s channeling!” She said with a lopsided grin “and the mountain air. And…you know…the priestesses and the old folks. It’s nice to see ‘em smiling and happy.”

She reached slowly for a bag of chips. “And I mean..I grew up here, you know?” 

He pushed the chips toward her. "Yeah. Like Apollo grew up in Khura'in too. That's why I'm not sure they'll be able to bring him back."

Maya opened the bag of chips, listening to the water as it heated. 

“It's hard to leave your home, you know? Especially when it needs ya…you can’t just leave it to suffer without you…and it ain’t the same when you’re gone. Sometimes you just gotta accept that it’s where you belong, you know? 

"I guess in the end there's only one person who can make a call like that, huh? Trucy and Klavier might come home covered in bite marks."

“Yikes!” Maya snickered. “If they do, are ya gonna laugh in their faces with an ‘i told ya so’ or give ‘em bandages?” 

"I might," he said. "But I might be sad for them too. Any way I can help you with the tea?"

Maya rustled in the bag of chips with a shake of her head “It’s just heating up, don’t worry about that…it’ll just be another minute or two.”

She took a bite of the chip, joy sparking in her eyes for a moment before it quieted again. “I’ll be sad for ‘em too. I bet they miss the guy, huh?” 

"Trucy especially. She was his co-counsel, you know? For a while. Like you and me used to do."

Maya had a chip in her mouth when she looked up at him with a half smile. 

“those were the days, huh?” She chomped the chip with a look of satisfaction before she continued “...being someone’s co-counsel feels special, can’t blame her for being kind of heartbroken to lose him like that. Suddenly your life’s a lot quieter.” 

"Actually," Phoenix said, feeling himself start to sweat. He couldn't believe he was doing this. He shouldn't do it. But… He reached into his bag and pulled out the folder. "Speaking of those days– could I ask you to look over a legal document, for me?"

“Forget how to read legal docs during your break, Phoenix?” Maya teased him playfully as she held out her hand for it. “you’re hopeless. I’ll take a peek for ya, sure.” 

"You know I did," he chuckled. "Even a couple years back in the game, I still don't have all the skills back I had when you were around."

His fingers twitched, but he managed to hand her the document. There was a slim stack of papers inside.

They weren't particularly obtuse documents.

He'd typed them himself.

Maya opened it up to read them, starting from the top as she tucked her hair over her ear. 

They were business papers. A contract for a permanent position as the manager of Wright Agency, and a full half stake of the company.

He watched as her brow furrowed. She flipped a page– they widened– .and then she jumped as the teapot began to steam and she hurried to take it off the burner with wide eyes

“...N-Nick…this….”

There was a name typed in at the bottom, waiting to be signed.

Maya Fey.

"It's an offer," Phoenix said quietly. "And a plea, too. I know Kurain needs you, Maya, but– I need you too."

Maya pushed her hand through her hair, her breath catching as she looked between the paper and him. 

“I…Nick, I miss you too. Of course I miss ya…I need you too but…” She looked down at the paper again, her eyes lingering on the name. “but who’s gonna take care of the village while I’m managing the office? Nobody. There’s nobody else! Mom already abandoned them and died, Mia left….Morgan was a monster, Pearl esca— is following her dream. I’m the only one here who can bear the responsibility!”

She tensed “I trained for it, for years. If I just left I’d …what would happen?” 

"Maya, I'll be honest, I don't know what would happen," Phoenix said quietly. He looked down at the table. "I don't know what would happen to Kurain, or the people here without their important medium blood leader. But I know what would happen for me. I'd be happy. I'd get to have you in my life. I'd get to wake up and see you smiling, and get to take you out for burgers, and ramen. And have you by my side in court."

His fingers tensed on the edge of the table as he remembered that fateful case almost ten years ago now, when Maya hadn't been by his side. Everything had gone wrong. And he'd lost 7 years of his life to a kind of despair. "It's not the same without you, Maya. I'm not the same. I– it's not fair to put it on you, I know. But I'm a selfish man. I always have been."

Maya’s eyes started to tear up, and she reached up to push her hands through her bangs again. She stared down at the contract. 

“It’s not the same for me either, you know” “I mean…I…I’ve changed too.” She looked up at him with a shaky smile. “But you know me, you know I’d love to wake up next to you and fight it out in the courtroom, or have ramen whenever I want, or goof around and watch the Pink Princess and all that! But the people here need a leader…and if it’s me or Pearl, I’ll take the bullet before she has to. She’s got a dream now…” 

"Why? Maya?" Phoenix said, leaning across the table.He let it out. He let out what he'd been holding in– what had been building in his chest for years now. "Why do they need a leader, and why does it need to be you? Who even cares about any of this? Do you? Mia left! Pearl left! It's the 21st century– these people don't need you as a leader, they're using you, they're using your talent to bolster their way of life– and you don't even want to live that way!"

“You’re soundin’ a lot like her…” Maya grimaced as she reached for the teapot “louder and louder lately.”

Her fingers curled against the handle as she lifted it and fumbled blindly for the teacups.

Nick staggered to his feet and moved to help her, grabbing the teacups for her.

"Sounding like who? Cause they sound like they have a good head on their shoulders."

October 2, 2028– 11:35 am

Maya heard Phoenix get up, stepping beside her to take care of the cups while she took the teapot. He had a plaintive look on his face, which seemed, just for a moment, to not have aged a day since they'd first met.

She dropped her head into her hands, rubbing at her temples with her fingertips as she felt her jaw tighten “like nobody…don’t worry about it, Nick. I’m just talking to myself.”

Like Mia. She’d always heard her voice since the murder’s aftermath, on and off— and more in more the longer time went on– she wasn’t foolish enough to tell herself it wasn’t real, she was the Master of the Kurain Channeling Technique after all, even if it wasn’t the usual sort of channeling it was clear to her that the voice and presence in her head, draped throughout her like an extension of herself was none other than her departed sister.

“Does it matter? Whether they’re using me or not, this town needs me to survive.” 

"Economically, Maya," he said, taking the teapot from her as well, and pouring tea for them. "They need you to survive economically. No one's going to die if you leave. They need you the same way a farmer needs a prize cow to show at the fair, I know that seems harsh, but it's true."

It is harsh, Mia said. But he's not wrong, either.“Ghhh…” Maya closed her eyes tightly. “c-calling me a cow, huh Nick? That’s a great way to convince me to come back to LA, sure!”

She laughed it off like a joke, even as she felt her eyes sting. She knew they were profiting off her, but that’s the way it’d always been. The village was the mediums and the mediums were the village. There wasn’t one without the other. 

He set down the teapot and put his hand on her back. "Maya, you know that's not what I'm doing. But what are you getting out of being here, really? They're sucking you dry. Why should you be forced to serve them forever as their pet medium, just so they can get rich off your talent? Just so they can continue their reputation? Tell me off if you really want this, Maya– but if you don't want to be here, you don't have to. You really don't."

Maya bit her lip hard, feeling the pain as her tooth nearly cut the skin. She tried to summon the will to tell him off, but she couldn’t lie to herself…

She didn’t want to be here. Why would she wanna waste away in the mountains doing the job her mother abandoned? The job everyone else escaped from, forever and ever until the last of her talent dried up and she died for whatever offspring she managed to have to take up the burden in her place.

It was miserable. SHE was miserable being so far from every little pleasant thing she got to experience for a short and blissful time away from the village. 

Phoenix put his arms around her shoulders. 

"Maya. I'm not going to stand here and advocate for Kurain village. To me, they're a bunch of backward people who hurt you, and Pearl, and Mia, and who Pearl and Mia couldn't wait to escape from. They're a bunch of bitchy women who backstab one another and are ashamed of their husbands. I couldn't advocate for them if I tried." She felt his arms trembling around her, and his face on the back of her head. 

“I want you, Maya. I love you. I've kept my mouth shut for almost 10 years, because I don't have any right to tell you what to do. I don't own you, you're your own person. But I hate to see you dividing yourself among greedy people when I want you for myself. It hurts, Maya. It hurts because I love you, and I miss you."

Maya felt the hot patter of tears hit her hands as the teapot swam in her vision.

“I…” she hiccuped quietly. “I love you too, Nick. I know we never said it before but…but..I do.” Her fingers tightened on her lap as she looked up at him with a rough attempt at a smile. It hurt, but..the whole thing hurt. “You aren’t wrong…this place is a mess.”

Mia…I don’t know what to do. I know , I know what you’re gonna say but…

You know what I'm going to say, already, Maya. You know you do. I think that you should follow your heart. And I don't think your heart is in Kurain village any more than mine was.

Phoenix combed his fingers through Maya's hair. "I should have said it a long time before now. I didn't want to put a name on it. But I should have. I love you, Maya. Run away with me."

Maya choked, her shoulders shook and she felt the sudden wet trickle of tears hitting the backs of her hands and running onto her kimono below, leaving dark and damp spots near her folded knees. .

“I…I…” she whimpered. “I wish you said it sooner, Nick….wouldn’t have needed to run far at all. Hah. Hah.”

She gripped her kimono tighter in her fingers.

“Looks like everyone’s always runnin’...running from Kurain. Mia…wants…would want…me to go too.” 

"Mia, huh?" he said quietly in her ear. "That's what I thought. Yeah. I bet. I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner. I didn't think– after what happened, I didn't think I had any right. And then you were in Khura'in, and I— I realized how completely lost I am without you."

He squeezed her tighter, holding himself against her body.

Maya leaned against him with a choked laugh. 

“You really are helpless without me, Nick. I turn my back, you lose your badge…or start smashing your way through a country’s legal system.” The laugh didn’t stop as she half fell against him “Nick…do you got any idea how small Kurain is? It’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. It’s just this circle of houses and the channeling chamber…everything outside is …situational.” 

"I have some idea, Maya. It's suffocating you, isn't it?"

She nodded , looking up at him with tear stained eyes. “I used to think I could live my whole life there. But Mia, when she vanished, she kept inviting me out and showing me things in the real world. I loved it…but it meant that comin’ back felt like being put in a cage.” 

As Maya turned around in his arms to look at him, she saw his own eyes filled with tears as he looked down at her.

"I don't want you to live in a cage, Maya. Pearl doesn't want that. Iris doesn't. Mia didn't want it. Not for you, and not for her. Please, Maya— will you be my partner again? We've been through so many crazy things that turned out to be real. Can we make this real?"

Maya hiccuped again, and she nodded. 

“y-...Holy Mother, are the spirits of Aunt Morgan and the rest gonna be unhappy…but y-yes.” She closed her eyes tightly to stop the way her vision swam through her tears. “I wanna be your partner again, Nick. I w-wanna run away.” 

He leaned his chin on her head, and she felt his throat against her as he swallowed. "Maya, I don't care who else is unhappy, because I'm the happiest I've ever been. We're going to be happy, together."

Maya leaned up to kiss his chin. It wasn’t going to be easy…not emotionally. Not when the elders of the village came to ask questions…but…

I’m making the right choice, right Mia? I’ve gotta follow my heart.

It's the choice I made, Maya. I didn't even have someone begging me to go with them, and I never regretted it for a second. Even though it made my life a lot shorter. 

[blitz0hno]

Drabble about the whole mikotosys-night-terror chronicles cuz I don't get to write much.

Post trial 2: Mikoto, still deep in denial (although deep denial doesn't mean ur as unaware as you let on/feel all the time), cries himself to sleep again. He hates the long-time habit, but thinking about his life up to this point, especially now... It makes sense, and unfortunately a lot more starts to make sense too.

It was happening again.

Mikoto was laying on the bed in his cell, staring at the ceiling. It was the only time he knew which way was up these days.

And today had been long, and stressful.

Why must he be this kind of person?

Chained up and interrogated.... Es trying to explain why the words "I saved you" echo in his mind.... a fuzzy ringing in his ears overtaking seemingly every conversation he had with the warden; Mikoto did his best to be attentive but was purely pretending. He was sure he dreamed the crime he was accused of, sure of it. It wasn't real, he couldn't do that! He had a future to look toward, and even if some people in his life were holding him back, his urge for quick relief had been but a horror-movie fantasy. A place for his brain to put his anger so he couldn't find it.

He had always wondered where his emotions went when he made them disappear. It didn't look good that nearly every moment now felt like a dream, either.

Answering questions with pen and paper had been particularly difficult. He didn't remember much of that either. He remembered the first couple questions. He remembered waves of frustration flooding his train of thought. He remembered feeling sick when he realized it was over and he thought he had only answered two or three out of the twenty questions.

Mikoto had started off this strange "Milgram" experience intrigued, but the more he thought about the events that led up to this "reality show," the more scared he got. He had always been a forgetful guy, but felt confident enough in his ability to keep track of important things. School, work, home duties, everything was always nearly lined up in his thoughts. Sometimes he had strong feelings about a task, but he was easily able to power through. He was oddly proud of that ability, from his adolescence up to his office job.

Sure, he had been picked on for living outside the city and never going anywhere. But he was reasonably popular with girls and very on top of his grades, which made other students like him well enough he supposed. No reason to feel lonely with how busy he was anyway. Taking care of home with his mom and sister, making sure he remembered to eat and study before shifts, and cramming for tests had all paid off, hadn't it?

He had a career he was passionate about, an end goal, and a stable job at a famous company. Although this job was... Not as glamorous as he had hoped. Nonetheless, he had worked so hard for it. He wouldn't just throw it away.

Not even when his meal times got shorter and shorter.

Not even when his boss made him redo weeks of work on a whim.

Not even when 60 hour weeks turned to 80 hours.

Not even when he broke down and cried after coming home to an onslaught of texts informing him of a deadline being shortened yet again.

He needed to sleep. Without sleep, he became irritated easily, and hiding it with a polite smile always left him with a permanent lump in his throat, as if he could burst into tears at any moment but wouldn't let it happen. When it all got too loud, Mikoto knew how to put it away for later.

Now was later, and he was crying.

He wished people listened to him. If they got to be cruel with no consequences, chain him to one thing or another, tell him to come and sit and stay until 3AM doing paperwork, he should get a say too. A say in how he was spoken to, in his rest, in his mind, anything.

But he second-guessed himself every time, coming up with nothing and doubling down on his polite diligent worker persona.

His chest heaved as he sobbed. How pitiful and pathetic, if they saw him like this. And to think everyone was scared of him now, not only because he apparently really killed people, but now more things he didn't remember were coming up. Torn up clothing he had tried so hard to laugh about reporting to Es; but all the morning he couldn't stop himself from crying, even through his mask. He had heard from others in the past that he talked in his sleep, but the noises? The shredding and screaming and destroying?

That was all new.

And embarrassing.

And mortifying.

Mikoto had no memory of any of it. He thought and thought, but only recalled feeling overwhelmed, perceiving the stares and the body language around him as tense, and the rush of anxiety which was renewing itself again. Out of habit, he searched for the smile he always tried to force through the tears, even now that he was alone.

Another sob.

Alone.

And everyone knew it. His boss, his mom, his baby sister, his peers EVERYONE watched him go it alone, pushing and pushing and succeeding at any cost to himself. But that was the goal, too, to be left alone. Not screamed at, following the rules in place, breaking them if it meant a more pleasing outcome for his current audience. His breath picked up as he remembered every comment, every stare every sneer every nitpick EVERYTHING others did to belittle his hardest work. His sweat, blood, and tears turned into a cycle that kept piling more on his back.

He held his hands against his ears as his sobs turned to a choked wail. Again tonight, he felt like he couldn't stop himself. "I HATE THIS! I'm not smart enough to even remember what I do, not strong enough to even control myself! FUCK!"

Again his uniform shirt felt far too tight. The restraints he had become more used to were suddenly like snakes whose every movement he could feel through the fabric, writhing on his skin. Mikoto screwed his eyes shut and begged to disappear, pulling at the jumpsuit.

Then John screamed.

He tore, he ripped, he fell off the bed and threw himself against the wall as if it would give him more force against the restraints. He couldn't stop. He knew it was his fault, and he knew why it was his fault, but they were hurting Mikoto all the same.

John forcefully wiped the tears from his face. His breathing was ragged as he felt himself grabbing at his hair. This was bad.

He couldn't calm down. Mikoto was beyond upset, he was terrified. John's own anger and Mikoto's fear had them in a frenzy, their hands pulling at anything they could grasp. What could he do? He had to help Mikoto. After all, it was John's fault, John's anger, John's actions that caused him this agony. Mikoto wouldn't hurt someone like that. He couldn't!

"I COULD. I DIDN'T WANT TO!" A shriek escaped his mouth. John didn't feel like that words were his. He took a deep breath, one hand still keeping his hair in a death grip.

The other was over his mouth. John had heard enough of what the other prisoners were able to hear. He was sure that they would be punished if they were any louder; or maybe Mikoto was sure.

He just didn't know anymore.

"They were killing you," John whispered, voice strained. "Even if you didn't do i-"

The words caught in his throat, and John's breath hitched as he felt the world start to blur around him.

"I do remember that I wanted to," came a choked whisper from Mikoto. "I wanted nothing more. Those people - those men... My life was hell. I was too slow with turnarounds no matter how long I submitted before the deadline. They called me day and night like a dog to their side. And th- the way they spoke to me and my coworkers - realizing their contempt toward the working men alone but god the WOMEN-" He sobbed loudly, burying their head in his hands. "The- these are the people our baby sister gets to meet next. The ones our mom married, the ones who lie and cheat and demand and force- they should be GONE they SHOULD. BUT- but I never thought-" he trailed off, curled into a tense ball. He could hardly feel John anymore -

Oh god.

He could feel John.

Like another person in the room, he felt another presence almost by his side. Another sob turned into a laugh at the absurdity of it all. The warden had no dog - Mikoto did.

And it was himself.

And that's why there was another "him," blaming his newfound self for Mikoto's plans and actions.

He felt terrible, in a hundred different ways. "John, it wasn't your fa-" Mikoto stopped mid-sentence, torn between guilt for his other self and the terror of realization hitting. He pressed himself against the cold wall and breathed slowly as he could, suddenly overcome with a clammy, nauseous feeling.

It wasn't a dream.

Mikoto had been sick in his cell once before, during a particularly bad panic episode. He had cleaned it up well and told no one, but somehow he was still met with looks of concern and pity and fear ten times over the following morning. Damn thin walls. The already isolated prisoner was not about to let that happen again. He slumped against the wall, closed his eyes, and grit his teeth as the room spun, wanting only to sleep. If only he could shut down, wake up in his apartment and cry about his shitty day at his shitty job surrounded by shitty people that his shitty singular self did not kill.

The weight of that possibility leaving forever made him feel like he would never eat again.

John felt the pressure mounting in their head and body, powerless to help. Just behind front, able to listen to the perspective he'd been wishing to hear for so long, and unable to do a damn thing. After all the begging to be acknowledged, he still hadn't saved Mikoto. Not by a long shot.

They were both stricken with panic by now, John beginning to pace around the cell and breathing deeply to the point of pain. Anything to keep from spiraling, from causing a mess, from snapping again, from hurting someone or even needing them.

And then they froze, a third voice that felt equally unreal catching their attention. Difference was, she and another were outside themselves , and outside the door to their room.

"He's at it again..." John heard Kotoko sigh faintly, breathing shallow as he stood at a standstill. He was so at a loss that he forgot to be angry at her treatment of Mikoto. Mikoto wasn't a killer. John was. Leave Mikoto out of it, let him live without this pain. It's why John was here to begin with! Did he fail? Did he drive any other help away?

"Ugh. I'll wait here, as you requested. Give him this." John heard a small acknowledgement from Es as they took the mystery item. He flinched, bracing himself.

Were they chaining him up again? Drugging him? What did he get Mikoto into now??

Whether he knew it or not, Mikoto was feeling the same guilt towards John, ashamed for not having noticed and feeling cowardly for running from him.

"John..." Es brought the protector to attention, gently holding out a water bottle. He hadn't even registered that they opened the door. He stared for a second, feeling shamefully and ridiculously dog-like, but took the offering. "How did you know..."

"Because Mikoto puts on airs," Es replied plainly. "He would have forced a posture that was more relaxed, perhaps greeting me as 'Guard-kun.'" Their voice went up a tad as they imitated Mikoto's tone, first amusing and then startling John. Was the switch that obvious? Had he ruined any chance of Mikoto being normal again?

"So you can... You can tell. We really are that different?"

"Afraid so," Es replied. "John, do you two... Do you know how DID happens?" They stood across from him, gauging his reaction. John seemed to be struggling to stay grounded as he explained.

"We never thought we had any sort of amnesia... We once read that it happens when... Oh," John sighed. "I have no idea what happened. But I know... I know..."

"When a child is hurt badly over a period of time, in their very early stages-"

"Yeah I know how it goes." He snapped like John, but John felt the words come from elsewhere. The voice also sound absolutely defeated, the truth having come to reveal itself.

"Mikoto...?"

"..."

Mikoto felt.

He was aware, he knew what he was saying, but his voice was bitter and monotone. He didn't know what to feel. He just felt.

"I don't fuckin know anymore," he sighed. Es was not entirely convinced it was only him - his voice was cold, and while quieter than John's, Es wasn't even sure they had heard Mikoto curse before. Of course, Mikoto was subject to change as any other prisoner, and his demeanor almost reminded them of Fuuta's current state.

Mikoto took a deep breath, standing a little straighter. "I... Suspected it, when I heard about it from some class, and then forgot about it. But yeah, when a mother and a father hate each other, and possibly you, very very much... I know how it happens." His eyes darkened. "Life got better, I think, when Dad left. Mom wouldn't talk about him, and she'd get mad if I even said something that she thought he would... But I could tell she missed him. My baby sis seems okay for her age, on track development and all, but despite all the responsibility I could handle I could never quite get it right."

Es nodded thoughtfully. "So you were ridiculed and blamed for things you weren't even aware was upsetting to your parents? Did they take things out on you, because you were older?"

"I... I guess. I never thought it was that bad," Mikoto sighed. "But living on my own, I started to feel more and more disconnected. More angry, more paranoid... And I started having nightmares. I forgot about those for awhile too. When it started affecting my work, I even tried to forget I was stressed at all."

"Or rather, your mind helped you forget," Es mused.

"It should have stayed forgotten," the prisoner growled. "I can't believe I ruined everything, and I didn't even know it. John wanted to protect someone who forced him to exist because I COULDN'T protect me!" He pulled at the strap over his chest, struggling to keep composure. There was no trace of his fake smile.

"You didn't force anything," Es corrected him softly. "The brain is an organ that adapts to survive. Even had you known, it's not something that can be harnessed and commanded. It's adaptation." It was a simple matter-of-fact, complex as it was. Es hoped they had their facts straight now, anyway.

"So how do we go back to normal?!" Mikoto cried. His hands were shaking now and was sobbing again; he quickly realized how dizzy he was becoming. "I-I need to sit." He lowered himself back to the floor and slumped against the wall, arms childishly wrapped around his knees. He felt nothing but shame presenting himself this way. He was 23, he was a graphic design agent, a working man! He couldn't break down like this! He couldn't have it this bad! Even if he didn't even feel like himself at the moment, even if reality felt completely made up... "There's got- there's got to be a way to fix this."

To his surprise, Es didn't look at him with judgement or pity. The only thing that stood out was curiosity, and they gently sat beside him as they gathered their words. "It's not a matter of fixing, Kayano-kun. You all need... Healing," Es spoke carefully. They figured the nickname would do for now.

"Can't heal from a murder charge," the prisoner scoffed. Mikoto felt reality spin as John spat out his remark. John ran a hand through his hair, smoothing some parts and causing others to stick out awkwardly. "It's still my fault. Those urges, those feelings... They're mine to carry, to protect him from."

"John... maybe you can protect each other. Share the burden. It was one body and, according to Milgram, one prisoner. Maybe if you can forgive yourselves... Milgram will show me a better outcome for you both." That was the best Es could think of to help right now. To think it was upon them to say whether this man was forgivable; he had seen so much of the real world that they themselves had yet to remember, and they couldn't even imagine the stress of his perfectionist lifestyle on top of it all. They wanted to cry from how unfair it all was, but prisoner 009 was the priority right now.

As the warden... They had to do what they thought was best. They almost felt guilty for having Kotoko on standby, even though it was she who insisted. But that didn't mean Mikoto, or even John, was dangerous.

"I know I didn't do the right thing," Mikoto sighed, sitting up as he regained composure. "And it still doesn't feel real. I can almost feel the memory slipping again. It hurts, Guard-kun!" He gripped the sides of his head. Es instinctively reached gently for his hands to discourage him from pulling his hair out, and Mikoto flinched. He hit the barrier between them with his hands as he automatically covered himself.

"Shhh... Mikoto..."

"I'm sorry!"

"You didn't hurt me. I startled you," Es said. "Mikoto, you don't need to remember all the time. That's what your alter John, and any others there may be... Are for," they looked away, thinking bitterly about what may lie in their own memories. "It can hurt to remember, Mikoto. Sometimes it's even dangerous."

"I was dangerous when I didn't remember, too," Mikoto sniffed. "John... He wanted to protect us - protect me - so badly that we hurt a lot of things. Even you."

"Well as for me, Mikoto, my physical health is no worse for wear," Es replied. They were only partly lying - they were exhausted constantly, but John's outburst was long down the list of incidents by now. "I forgive you. Do you... Forgive you? Forgive John?"

"John... I barely know John..." Mikoto sighed, feeling defeated as the words he tried to form seemed to fade from his mind. "But I... I forgive his mistakes. I hope he can forgive me too." Mikoto then felt lightheaded again, but although his throat felt stuck and his chest was tight, his left hand gave a small thumbs up.

Es couldn't help but chuckle a bit. "Well, there you go."

Mikoto heaved a sigh, suddenly feeling more exhausted than ever. "Thank you..." He whispered. He began to cry again, but smiled a smile that seemed to come more from genuine gratitude than fear. "Thank you, Guard-kun. I know... John will be happier now. I'm... I'm really scared. But we don't have to be lonely."

Es stood up slowly, offering a hand to help him to the bed. 009 sat still on the floor for a moment, a small frown forming on his face as he took their hand. "It's... It's John." He whispered, although they were partly holding him upright, Milgram ignoring his presence and giving him away. It felt strange, announcing himself like that, but comfortable too. "I know we can't undo what we did... Thank you for helping Mikoto."

"You deserve help, too, John. Mikoto wants to be there for you, too," the small warden looked up at him with almost a sense of urgency, praying John wouldn't try to take it all on himself anymore.

"Well he can start..." John mused, "by not giving away my cigarettes anymore. How's that?"

"Oh yeah, he did tell me to stop giving those to him even if he asks. I think..." They almost didn't suppress a laugh as they walked the system to their cot; although the situation wasn't funny itself, it was an interesting process. "I think finding those over and over is when he knew he forgot more than he knew."

"Damn right..." John sat down on the bed, the body falling over nearly instantly.

"Goodnight, John-kun, Mikoto-kun," Es said softly, heading towards the cell door.

"Goodnight, and thank you again," John's low voice replied.

As they went out the door, they heard another.

"Oh! Goodnight, Guard-kun!" A soft whisper said from across the room. "...And thank you."

That night was the most restful sleep Mikoto's body had gotten in years. He almost felt like he could finally get used to this. He would never get used to "being a killer," though. He didn't know much about the social perception of DID, so he sure hoped that wasn't a general stereotype.

End.

[wisheduponastar]

LotR Week - Day 2

histories and legacies

In which the twins both listen to the music of which they love. But only they love.

TWS : Angst, implied (eventual) character death

It is rare for Elrohir to have a moment where he is entirely alone. Although he does not, contrary to what most believe, spend all his time with his brother he does enjoy the company of people; their smiles and simple presence fueling him. Even though Elrohir is social, moments of solitude help. What is the quote his brother would use? Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Because after he's been gone a little while, he misses his family more than ever. He misses his father, although it is easier as he always knows where to find him. He misses his sister, not for her choice - as it is hers - but because Rivendell is a long way from Minas Tirith. He misses his brother, because the two of them have never really been apart long enough for him to know how to cope with extended absence. He misses his mother, who he has not seen for all of this age and hundreds of years of the last. But he knows that wherever he misses them it won't be permanent. At least not for the next hundred years or so.

Elrohir looks up at the sky, only half visible through the dappled canopy of trees and branches that this forest uses to cover the sky. It does not, however, stop the warmth and sunlight from being able to come through. And so Elrohir leans his head back and relaxes, imagining this clearing filled with friends.

The laugh of rangers, tales of whatever had happened being spoken in low, rumbling voices. The turning of a page in the clearing, if Elladan wasn't feeling as social. Or his brother's voice, clear as crystal and still with elven eloquence, although when he speaks his words relate more to the Dúnedain. The clearing is not silent, however.

As he listens Elrohir can hear the liveliness of the woods, the shuffling of creatures, and the singing of a nightingale.

✧

Being away from his brother for so long does not serve him well, but Elladan can understand why his brother did not want to go to the Grey Havens. Especially when they are not to set off, at least not yet. That honour belongs to his father and the rest of the ring-bearers. A duty he has never had to fulfil.

Which is why Elladan does not go all the way to the Grey Havens. Because the thing that it symbolises is not something he currently wishes to do. He does accompany his father most of the way, however. Sometimes the two ride in silence but often they talk. The things they talk about do not matter very much, at least not to Elladan, but the person he is talking to does. To Elladan, he is one of the major cornerstones of his life. And he will miss his father dearly, just as he is missing his mother.

Eventually Elladan reaches the point where he knows he needs to turn back, and he does. He keeps with his father a few more turns, giving final parting words, and stopping his horse to watch the Lord descend. Elladan cannot see the sea, but that is not something he cares about.

Without his father everything is oddly silent, with only background noise coming to him. The neighing of his horse, and the whistling of the wind over the ocean waves.

✧

The time does come when both brothers cannot delay their choice any more. As the boat bobs up and down, the figure in it stops and runs back out - embracing his brother in one last hug. "I will always miss you."

[erin-writes-ghost-fluff]

Grave headcanons

A/N: Reworking her character a bit, so bear with me. Also while cringe culture is dead, I am gonna be cringe but I am free lol. Some of these are based on an ongoing RP with my boyfriend.

General headcanons:

-How she was 'summoned' to The Ministry is a secret, known only to the four papas, ghouls, and some very close siblings of sin. Not even Sister and Nihil know how Terzo 'summoned' a fae to The Satanic Ministry. It irritates them greatly.

-Terzo took a trip to Ireland, during Secondo's time as Papa, lying about wanting to 'convert more for the cause.' In reality, it was just a week long vacation for him and Omega. During a stroll in a forest, Terzo happened upon a black rabbit, caught in a hunter's trap, her leg, injured.

-Taking pity, Terzo freed her and took her to his hotel room. He and Omega tended to her injuries, gave her plenty of treats, food, and love, not knowing what she truly was. On the second day, she revealed herself, deeming the human and demon to be trustworthy. Terzo was attached nearly instantly. She was still nameless by then, only being called 'fatina' due to her small height, but in Terzo's defense, he wasn't good at coming up with names on the spot.

-She heard him lamenting to Omega one night about how he wanted to be a father. He always felt he'd never get that chance, due to working with The Ministry.

-It was here, the fae decided to grant his wish- though Terzo didn't realize it yet- She asked to leave with them. He naturally leapt at the chance and the rest was history.

-Grave isn't just any run-of-the-mill fae, however. She's a phooka. A shape shifting creature, that can take many forms. Mainly a black mare, but phookas also take the forms of goats and rabbits.

-Orientation with Sister and Nihil didn't go well, however. Especially since Sister told Terzo at one point to stop summoning 'ghouls.' The phooka was already in a form that resembled a ghoulette, done after Terzo explained who he was and what he did for a living. He showed her a picture he took of Cirrus, and the phooka took a form that looked similar.

-Primo gave her the ghoul name of 'Grave', her ghoulette disguise fooling him. After orientation went horribly, ending with both Sister and Nihil calling her 'useless' and 'unneeded,' Primo, interestingly enough, stepped in to comfort the phooka, showing her the garden. While there, she cleared a tiny cemetery of weeds. The cemetery was where Copia buried his rats. It was the first time it looked nice in a while. Satisfied and pleased with her, Primo named her 'Grave' and formally assigned her to gardening duties with himself and Mountain.

-Her true form varies differently from the demonic form she takes to fit in with the ghouls. In her true form, she has fluffy, long black fur, goat horns, rabbit ears, the nose of a goat, whiskers, usually has rabbit peets but will change her feet to hooves or whatever she feels like, and has a lion's tail. In every form she takes, she retains her golden yellow eyes, a common phooka trait. She also has raccoon hands.

-She's an inch smaller than Terzo at 4'8.

-Purrs

-Because she has been in Ireland practically since it came to be, her accent varies too. Most of the time, it's a limerick accent. Though sometimes it comes out as Northern, other times Kerry. It depends. If she's flustered, or angry, the accent thickens.

-She doesn't keep her red hair in her true form. Only in her ghoulette form or human glamour. Terzo eventually gave her the name 'Shailyn' to use while in her human disguise.

-Phookas, of all faes, don't typically get attached to humans but Terzo was an exception. She views him as a father, despite only having a hazy concept of what a father is, thanks to observing countless humans over the years.

-As such, she calls Terzo 'da.' He nearly cried out of joy, the first time that happened lol and Grave came close to getting snuggled to death.

-That being, she also sees Omega as another father, since he's Terzo's lover. She uses 'dad' for him.

-The ghouls accept her pretty quickly. They knew she wasn't a demon immediately. Though Cirrus thinks her ghoulette form is cute. She was an honorary pack member by day three.

-She's younger than the majority of the ghouls. Many of them would place themselves at the human age range from late twenties to mid forties, Grave has only existed since Ireland's creation, vs demonic creatures as old as the universe. She'd be around her early twenties in human years.

-Feels most at home in the garden. Bonds with Primo over planting and caring for flowers.

-Liked Copia the moment she met him. The feeling was mutual, he couldn't get over how fluffy she was. He also appreciated her letting him infodump to her about his rats and rats in general.

-Being a creature of mischief, she adores fucking with the mortals in The Ministry. Especially those that are familiar with The Fair Folk. She's constantly making deals with siblings of sin she tricks but they're not malevolent pranks. Mere inconveniences.

-Whenever Mary Goore visits The Ministry, she loves fucking with them. The vampire isn't afraid of her, per se... They just exercise a healthy caution with her, seeing she's a phooka.

-She is not above fucking with Secondo. He acts so dramatic and over the top with anger, but one can see the faintest glimmer of warmth in his eyes. And she will call him out on it lol.

-The only two she won't fuck with is Sister and Nihil. Terzo made her promise not to. As Sister has made barely disguised threats on Grave's life with iron.

-Terzo snuck her on tour. Shortly after Omega taught her how to play guitar, he felt she was more than good enough to be in the band, since she sang too.

-Hibernates for a week in winter.

-Developed a crush on Phil, two weeks after joining The Ministry. She found him well spoken, attractive, and liked it when he infodumped about random topics to her. Luckily for her, after a couple of months of getting to know each other, the feeling was mutual.

-Will sleep in snuggle piles with the ghouls or go sleep and snuggle with Terzo. She did the same thing when Copia became Papa.

~ ~ ~

Tickle headcanons:

-Was acutely aware of what tickling was, thanks to decades of observing human behavior. Never tried it before Terzo adopted her.

-Initially tried to lie and say faes aren't ticklish. This got her in huge amounts of trouble with Terzo when he found out and the poor phooka's stomach hurt from how hard he got her laughing.

-Omega likes pulling the same fuckery with her as he does Terzo: Holding her upside down and then going to town on her belly or ribs. Makes her hysterical every time.

-Is most ticklish on her ribs and wings. Her wings are especially bad, because they're attached to her back. So, she's basically getting tickled in two places at once.

-Does not handle being teased well at all. Blushes so much in her human or ghoulette forms when flustered. If she's in her true form and flustered, her fur fluffs up and bushes out. (Also happens when she's spooked lol)

-Quick to hide her face.

-Snort laughs as well as cackles, and she's super embarrassed about her laugh.

-Her belly is another good tickle spot. Especially when she gets pudgier before hibernation. Add the fact that ghouls think pudge is cute- not to mention a sign of good health- and we've got a dead fae.

-Terzo gives her the embarrassing nickname of 'Pookie' when he's tickling her, just to fluster her.

-Bleats like a goat when the right spot is tickled.

-Also thumps her foot like a rabbit when flustered. This had led to many a ghoul or person to teasingly call her 'bunny' too.

-Called Terzo 'da' for the first time on accident, when he was tickling her. This is what led to large amounts of cute aggression from him.

-If there is one ler she fears in The Ministry more than Terzo, it's Secondo and for good reason. The man is merciless.

-She enjoys being on the receiving end, however. She never begs for mercy or pleads for it to stop.

-Has some trust issues thanks to Copia preferring to trap her in tickle hugs when he decides to get her.

-Her tail will often be implemented as a tickle weapon. And her little raccoon claws too!

-Tickling feels more intense in her human or ghoulette form, since she has no fur.

-Her tail wags when she's getting tickled or is tickling another.

A/N: At some point, I may post NSFW headcanons.

EDIT: Almost forgot to show off some drawings, my friend and BF did!

Ghoulette form. Character sheet by Cawhawhaw.

In her true form, scaring her da, by @runscold-runsdeep

[cityandking]

2, 7, 11, for lira, minah and bran!

thanks my dear <3 // sibling relationship asks

2. How ride-or-die they were as kids?

LIRA & FERGUS — they were ride-or-die, but incredibly lowkey about it. the age gap meant that they didn't have many ride-or-die opportunities growing up—he was an adult when she was still just a kid, and their duties kind of took them in different directions MINAH & SIS — they weren't super ride-or-die, tbh. minah had her own established friend group, and her little sister was younger by enough that she could tag along if she had to, but she wasn't really in with the group (that said, if any of minah's friends was mean to her, minah would 100% fuck them up. I'd describe them as "you're a pain in the ass but you're MY pain in the ass" siblings) BRAN & ELLIS — full ride or die. we-don't-have-anyone-else ride or die. inventing-new-forms of-codependency ride-or-die. but then bran left. worst thing she's ever done in her life probably?

7. How affectionate they are?

LIRA & FERGUS — have a close, teasing relationship. he's pretty much the only person in the world post-Highever who can get her to drop her walls. but they're also very private with their relationship these days—they've been through a lot, and what they have left between them is theirs and only theirs. MINAH & SIS — pretty affectionate, mostly in small and unexpected doses. they fought a fair bit, but it was that kind of fighting where 20 minutes later they'd be over it and coloring side-by-side and gossiping or whatever. minah used her older sister privileges for good and for ill in equal measure BRAN & ELLIS — really affectionate. bran pretty much raised him after their mom died, and they were really really close.

11. Something they’re each envious of about the other?

LIRA & FERGUS — lira envies him for how he always seems to know what to do, when she's struggling so hard. fergus wouldn't wish her hardship on anyone, but sometimes he feels bad for being grateful it wasn't him. MINAH & SIS — minah's sister was a really talented artist, and minah sometimes envied her for that, and how well she got along with her teachers and how easily she seemed to be able to sit still and follow directions. minah's sister definitely envied her for having more time to run around and hang out with friends (which, as minah would point out, was because she was older and more responsible and it wasn't her fault that her sis was still just a little baby. this got more annoying as time passed, as you might imagine) BRAN & ELLIS — when their father finally came out of his shell, bran sometimes envied ellis for the way their father could look at him without flinching. she always felt horrible about it, but it was there. (I think ellis probably envied her for being able to leave, when he was stuck there and didn't even understand why)

[oletus-hullabaloo]

💎 Does Oz have any good music to behold? Maybe you should try dancing as a break someday! Maybe even with Dorothy for fun?

🍀 MONTY [EMERALD CITY COACHMAN] HAS RECEIVED YOUR LETTER! 🍀

The coachman was sitting in his coach as usual, but had steered it off the golden path he so loathed and stopped it in the fittingly emerald grasses surrounding the gates. Sometimes it was a pleasure to truly pause and bask in an outside view of the stunning buildings, the architecture sharp and gleaming, as the outsider he still considered himself to be.

There was still a spark of wonder left, even though the star in his eye was often cloaked from view by his hat. He didn't want to fool those undeserving within the gates into thinking he wanted to be there, not at all. It was simply one more question avoided. The Oz-goers did like to pry into personal matters, especially if they were regular passengers.

They'd learn over time that the only person he'd divulge such information to was Dorothy, whether it took a singular tense ride or multiple for that to register. He was capable of small-talk, sure, but little more was afforded if he could avoid it.

Monty leaned further forward and crossed his arms, letting out a sigh as the postman caught up to him again. No coaches in Oz - even though his was the only one - boasted horses, driven by magical means and controlled by spoken or gestured commands, though the structures still remained. He wasn't in the carriage, but sat out in front of it near where a set of reins and such should've been.

He took the letter, waving the coach to a proper halt. It'd often spin wheels impatiently if he didn't. Writing would be difficult on moving ground.

"You'd be pleased to know, dearest correspondent, that Dorothy comes to me with songs aplenty that she makes up. She sings nonsensical things, but all are lovely to my ears because they're in her voice. She's as close as a younger sibling to me, you know, and shares the bond for it.

She's never asked me to dance for or with her, but I would.

I think she knows.

I've had plates added to my shoes, see, akin to those of use in tap-dancing, and she used to comment on how I sounded like the horses. With the magic of the City, we've never had need for them for the coach, but I enjoy the clicking of their hooves.

I can dance to perform for anyone who asks, but no-one cares to see me in any context other than one sat-down driver.

It's a shame. The wind carries its own melody of chatter and laughter, and I wish I could move to pay it due respect, but duty calls. There will be a time, but not any time soon.

I'll dance with my sister dearest one day."

[unaussprechlich-story]

Unaussprechlich- Eins

Hello friends! I am in awe of how many people are actually interested in my story! I hope we do not disappoint!

Chapter Rating: M, adult themes, horror elements

Chapter Warnings: descriptions of wounds, animal death

There is a scene involving animal death that may be distressing for some readers! If you want to skip this part, move from "Belatedly the snake began to bleed" to the third portion of the chapter.

Dividers from @delishlydelightfuldividers

Without further ado, please allow me to present Unaussprechlich.

“Sister Othilea.”

It was not her name, but it was what she had been called since she had arrived at the nunnery over half a year ago– sometimes she still forgot to respond to it. “Yes?” she turned belatedly, wiping her brow with a dirty hand. Tending the medicinal herb garden was one of Othilea’s duties and she was really hoping to get it done before evening prayers.

“The abbess wishes to see you,” the nun said, and Othilea should know her name, really she should, but she wasn't here to make friends. She was just trying to keep her head down; the fewer people who knew her, the better.

“Ah, thank you, sister,” Othilea turned back to the garden, intending to finish weeding the row.

The nun cleared her throat. “The abbess is in the surgery.”

Othilea sat back on your heels. “The surgery? Oh. Oh!” Standing up hastily, she brushed her hands off on her habit, the dirt blending in with the drab, undyed wool. “Thank you, sister.” Stopping only to wash her hands as best she could, she rushed to the surgery, where the nuns would treat the sick and wounded.

nun called Othilea could feel her heart in her throat. The territory battles had been slowly creeping up on the abbey in the past month, and though she felt safe here, the military presence was making her nervous. Antsy. But where could she go? 

She could smell it before she entered the room, not just the blood but also a strong, almost animal scent, like the fear of a cornered beast. Taking a deep breath, Othilea willed herself to relax. She couldn’t help anybody if she was panicking.

“Sister Othilea,” the abbess ushered the younger nun into the room, closing the door behind her, though Othilea sensed she was not talking to her. “She is very skilled, I have no doubt that she can help your comrade.”

There were two men in the room, one standing and the other lying on the table with a broken spear shaft sticking out of his gut. Othilea’s eyes widened and she took a step towards the wounded man unconsciously, stopping short when the other man blocked your path.

“She’s too young,” he said incredulously. She rankled internally; she was well past the marrying age of her village and had been stitching wounds and setting bones since she was a young child.

“I assure you, she was a fine healer before she took the vows and has only been honing her skill since,” the abbess explained patiently. The man opened his mouth to protest, but she continued, “It is against my own vows for me to treat an unmarried man. Sister Othilea is unburdened in this way, and thus she must treat your friend.”

The man clenched his jaw, but moved out of Othilea’s path to the injured warrior.

He was delirious, sweating and heaving on the table. “Who are you?” His rough voice broke into a cry as she pushed him to lie back on the table so she could look at his wound. This man was not from this region, his accent suggesting a more easterly origin. 

“You stopped the bleeding, that is good,” the nun called Othilea said, half to herself as she peeled layers of soiled cloth away from the wound. “Do you know if the spearhead was barbed?” She looked over her shoulder at the  other man. He wore a bow on his back, and appeared to have made it out of the battle relatively unscathed. From his agitation, Othilea could tell he cared deeply about his friend.

“It was unmodified,” he said, peering around her. “Shall I take his armor off?”

“Please, we need to do this as quickly as we can to minimize blood loss,” She made herself busy gathering supplies while the bowman hastily stripped his friend of his armor. Turning back to the table, she was unprepared for the wave of unfiltered scent of blood– and something primal– that overtook her, screaming for her to get away. The wounded man stared at Othilea, his eyes wide as he gripped the table, unable to control his breath, his nostrils flaring wildly. His eyes flashed towards the other man and Othilea got the sense he was looking for a way to defend himself. The nun took a deep breath, willing herself to remain calm as her instincts insisted she was in danger. “Hush, I will take care of you.” She showed the man both of her hands before she brushed his brow gently, trying not to tremble herself, and she saw him struggle to take a deep breath.

“Who are you?” he repeated, staring at her closely, his eyes tracing down the puckered scars on her face in a way she could almost feel physically. Othilea shivered.

“Just a nun,” she whispered, “but I will help you how I can.”

“I-I cannot breathe,” he suddenly bit out, clawing at his chest. “I-- can’t--,” with a strangled gasp the man’’s eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped backwards against the table.

The bowman made for the table, but Othilea held him off with a sharp look. “He’s not dead. Honestly, this is probably better for him, to help ease his suffering. We can do the surgery while he is asleep, and give him something for the pain when he awakes.”

Without any more ceremony, she examined the wound, pressing gently at the edges and seeing if the weapon had any give. “What are the chances that the spear was poisoned, do you think?” Othilea asked casually, looking at the bowman out of the corner of her eye before firmly grasping the spear’s shaft and yanking it out of the collapsed man’s body with a horrible sucking noise.

“Jesus!” the bowman cried, looking a little pale. “You just-- he-- is he alright?”

Othilea brought her face close to the man’s stomach, examining his insides as best she could with her eyes and fingers without opening him up further. “He was very lucky. The spear didn’t puncture any organs. Now, about the poison? Did he complain of any pain, besides in his gut?” She took a jug from the cupboard and uncorked it. “Oh, sweeting, you are lucky to be asleep for this.” Othilea shook her head and carefully poured the vinegar into the wound to clean it. The man’s stomach twitched and he let out a deep groan, but did not wake up.

The bowman looked at the nun with a measure of fear. “He-- he said his legs hurt.”

She hummed, preparing a needle with catgut to stitch the wound. “If I was a betting woman-- which I’m not,” Othilea cast a look at the abbess who merely raised her eyebrows, “I’d say that spear was poisoned with monkshood. It would explain the pain in his limbs, his inability to catch his breath– I can give him an antidote when he wakes up.”

She stitched the wound closed quickly and efficiently, all the while the bowman stood in silence. “What kind of person poisons his spear in an unimportant territory battle though?” she asked, more to herself than to anyone else.

“I don’t know much about the political situation. Ulo and I were hired to fill the ranks. Some bastard called Berard, seems they really wanted him dead,” the bowman offered.

Othilea froze, trying to hide her sudden alarm by inspecting the stitches she had made on the wounded man-- on Ulo. 

The abbess moved out of the corner of the room, extending a hand to the bowman. “Come, child. You must be hungry. Let us get you something to eat while we wait for your companion to wake up.&rdquo

She called for another nun to take the bowman away but Othilea barely heard, so consumed by her thoughts.

Ulo felt like he was swimming in inky darkness, trying to break through to the surface, always sinking back down into blackness. Distantly he could feel hands on his body and occasionally an image of a nun with a scarred face flashed in his mind. 

“Hush,” the nun said, and Ulo’s consciousness faded once more.

He groaned, his head was spinning–it felt like he had been stabbed in the gut and someone kept pressing on the wound. He pried his eyes open and when he regained focus he saw two nuns, one of whom was slathering some sticky substance on his stomach where-- so he had gotten stabbed. He let out an annoyed huff.

His normally sharp ears felt like they were full of cotton, but Ulo could listen to their conversation if he focused.

“--with them. They will need someone to tend to the man, and you don’t want to be here anymore,” the older nun said in hushed tones.

“But Mother, what about my vows?” The younger nun wiped her hands on a cloth and began coating Ulo’s wound in something else that felt cool on his heated skin.

“My child, I know you do not wish to be a nun. You are not happy here. You have no friends. You are always looking over your shoulder– I know the look of somebody who is running,” the abbess turned the other nun’s face so she could look her in the eye. “Make yourself indispensable. There is nowhere safer you could be than with two mercenaries who need you.” 

The younger one looked thoughtful, carefully applying the cool substance, and Ulo groaned at the touch. She looked up, and their eyes met. Smiling softly, an expression that seemed out of place with her scarred lip, she reached out to touch his face. “Hush, you need rest for the antidote to take effect. Sleep now, brave one.”

The nun gently passed her hand over his eyes, and Ulo let them shut to sink back into sleep.

When he awoke again, the nun was chest to chest with Ivar, her finger in his face.

“Absolutely not!” she fumed. “You put that man on a horse, his wound will reopen, it will get infected, and he will die!” The bowman’s growing irritation was evident in his stance, but the nun refused to back down. 

“But we need to go now, we can’t wait for him to heal--,” Ivar began but the nun was having none of it, her scowl pulled to one side by her scars. 

“So you can’t make time for Ulo to heal, but if he dies it’s no problem?”

Ivar gave a long suffering sigh. “What do you suggest we do, then?”

The nun turned around, a hand on her temple, when she noticed Ulo was awake. She grabbed a flask and shoved it at him. “Here, more of the antidote. Drink.” Rounding back on Ivar, she spat out, “Get a fucking cart.”

Ulo eyed the flask, and then the angry nun. She could be a witch, those scars on her face the proof of her guilt, but what kind of witch becomes a nun and stitches up mercenaries for free? He surreptitiously sniffed the liquid. It didn’t smell bad. He shrugged, figuring he’d take his chances with the benevolent witch, and quaffed the drink. Ivar looked at him helplessly and Ulo shook his head. “I do not want to die yet, my friend.”

They put her down the well without preamble and without ceremony. Berard’s men had found her standing over his prone body in the master’s chambers and dragged her to the mouth of the hole as she dug in her heels and spat every curse she knew over their names. A kick to the back of the knees was enough to send her tumbling into the shadowy darkness, screaming in rage and pain as her face slammed into the wall and the thorny vines that clung there.

The thorns scored her face like claws as she plummeted to the bedrock; they grabbed at her tunic and her braids, pulling and yanking and tearing anything they could reach.

Karminrot blinked and lurched upwards with a gasp; she didn’t remember hitting the bottom of the well. Half of her face felt tight, pulled upwards by deep gouges and dried blood that she tested with her fingers. Her upper lip was scored, drawn into what she knew would heal into a perpetual sneer. 

Well, she thought, at least no one will want to marry me now. 

Karminrot snorted with laughter though it hurt to move her face and she could feel the scabs around her lips cracking and oozing fresh blood. 

She couldn’t stop laughing.

The pain from her mangled face, the scratches on her arms and legs, her hair still clinging to the thorns and pulling at her scalp as she rocked back and forth– it was all so absurd and she laughed until her eyes filled with tears and her body was wracked with horrible hysterical sobs.

When Karminrot lifted her head again, darkness had descended upon the manor. It had been late afternoon when Berard had made his proposition and the sun was setting as she was thrown into the well. She could remember seeing the castle silhouetted by the sunset, long shadows reaching for her like grasping hands before she tumbled into the thorny embrace of the well.

It was full dark now, and she couldn’t see enough of the stars from the circular buttonhole that was the mouth of the well high above to even guess at the hour. As Karminrot’s eyes adjusted to the low light she surveyed her prison.

The well was narrow, only four feet in diameter and Karminrot realized just how cramped her body felt from lying in this crumpled position for God knows how long. She stretched her legs, noting gratefully that nothing was broken, though her hip and shoulder were bruised and swollen. Beyond the gashes on her face, Karminrot was in surprisingly good condition. She eased into a standing position, bracing herself against a patch of the wall that was not covered in those cruelly thorny vines.

The moonlight that filtered down to the floor of the well was dim, barely illuminating an assortment of rocks and bones that Karminrot was stolidly ignoring. Looking up, she could see bits of cloth and hair that had ripped as she fell, though the vines didn’t appear to be disturbed at all. She frowned and gingerly grasped one of the vines, avoiding the thorns, and tugged. The vine held fast to the wall. Putting more weight on it, Karminrot tugged on the vine again. It held.

She could vaguely hear voices, though she wasn’t sure what direction they were coming from, or even how far below the earth she was. A murmuring just beyond her reach, this weird unsettling susurrus of voices. Was that the flicker of a fire she could see cast upon the lip of the stone well?

Something shifted at her feet. A bone, displaced by some movement, clattered feebly upon the stone. 

Karminrot caught her breath, backing up against the wall until pinpricks of sharp pain harshly reminded her of the thorns. She gasped and jerked away, the movement unbalancing her and sending her sprawling to the ground in a twisted heap of limbs.

A soft hiss, and Karminrot could see something glint too brightly in the murk of the well. Those detestable bones shifted again and the woman sat upright, lurching back in her fear. The darkness seemed to close in around her but she could still see that flash of light, an ugly glistening that drew closer as a black snake resolved out of the gloom.

It swung its head around and she got the sense that the snake couldn’t see her. It flickered its tongue and opened its mouth wide in an unnerving hiss. A wisp of panic fluttered in Karminrot’s chest, one that she desperately tried to smother as the snake slowly turned its head in her direction. It drew closer; Karminrot couldn’t see its tail, or even where it came from, as if it were an extension of the darkness itself.

Frantically her hand closed upon a rock.

She was staring down at the snake, her chest heaving. Her hand was still upon the rock that cleaved its head from its body, the wound distressingly clean. Karminrot gasped and snatched her hand back as the snake’s sightless eyes seemed to roll in their sockets and look directly at her. Belatedly the snake began to bleed a foul, too-sweet smelling liquid.

She shuddered and closed her eyes. Licked her dry lips. She could hear the voices again. They were a bit louder or closer this time, with a raucous tone. Karminrot looked at the snake.

She was so hungry. When was the last time she ate? Almost a day ago, surely. And she was so thirsty and there was no water in this damn dried-up well. Karminrot looked up to the mouth of the well, where the light of the phantom fire was still flickering. The voices had started chanting, accompanied by a hellish drumming she imagined she could feel behind her eyes. No one had spoken to her since they had thrown her down here– perhaps they had forgotten about her. 

She was so hungry, and no one was going to feed her. She was so thirsty, and there was nothing to drink.

Karminrot looked at the snake.

Ulo could smell Othilea’s sickly sweet breath as she leaned over him to inspect his wound. At first he had found it off-putting, repulsive even; the mercenary would turn away as she tended to him, trying to hide his reflexive snarl. Ulo didn’t want her to think he had something against her or her healing abilities, she did save his life after all, so he had taken to holding his breath when Othilea was too close.

“Breathe,” she commanded, lifting her gaze from his stomach to his face to look him in the eye. The scars on her face, particularly the scar on her lip, gave her expression a frighteningly stern quality that Ulo knew was unintentional. “If you stop breathing, I can’t help you anymore.”

He snorted– was that supposed to be a joke?-- but he relaxed and inhaled slowly through his nose. It was only her breath that offended, and even that wasn’t so bad anymore. Now Ulo associated more scents with her than honey. The linen of the smock the abbess had given her when they left the abbey a fortnight ago, and the bandages Othilea bound his wound with. The tallow soap she used to wash the bandages. She often smelled earthy, whether from walking behind the cart on the dusty road or foraging for herbs and tubers when they made camp. The dirt that clung beneath her nails, at least until she washed her hands to tend to his stitches.

“I don’t know how you’ve healed so quickly,” Othilea continued, “I don’t know how you survived at all, if I’m being honest.” She pulled the last of the bandages off Ulo’s abdomen, and gently prodded at the wound with her fingers. “I’ve done similar surgeries maybe a half dozen times– they all died. Blood loss, infections. You must be incredibly lucky. If you survived the surgery I expected you to be immobile for at least two months. There was no way you could take another job. But you– these stitches are ready to come out.” She frowned down at Ulo’s stomach, gently running a finger down the flesh that had knitted itself together. He shivered.

“I come from tough stock,” he said thickly, clearing his throat. “Can we remove the stitches now?” Ulo made eye contact with Ivar and gestured for him to bring his knife.

Othilea frowned again, another involuntary sneer pulled across her face by her burled skin. “No. I’m sorry,” she added hastily, seeing the expression on her patient’s face. “There’s always a chance the wound could reopen when I remove the stitches, and who knows what your blood could attract.”

Ivar chortled, a sort of huffing as his shoulders bobbed up and down and rattled his mail. “Sister, you’re already in the company of the most dangerous creature in this forest.” Ulo shot him a glare, but Ivar carried on without pause. “I do understand your worries, though. There’s a town nearby– they’ll have an inn, or at least some kind of shelter.”

Ulo hefted himself up from the floor of the cart where Othilea had been examining him. She moved to stop him, but stepped back with a sigh. “It’s fine. It’d be a waste of bandages at this point.” She raised her eyes from the stitches on his stomach to meet his gaze. “If only we could all have skin of leather.” Othilea said it so frankly that Ulo wondered if she was even bothered by her scars at all.

Ivar threw a cloth bundle at Othilea before handing her a heavy coat. “I think it’d be easier to deal with the townspeople if you were a man. Those belonged to Stirna.”

“What happened to him?” Othilea asked, putting on the coat. It was heavy, made from layers upon layers of linen quilted together, and it fell to her knees.

Ivar coughed and turned away.

“Stirna was a woman, that was part of her kit. She felt it was easier to work if people thought she was a man. Not many people this far west would trust a woman on her own,” Ulo tugged his shirt over his head. One corner of his mouth twitched downwards in a scowl; he saw Othilea holding Stirna’s gambeson near the campfire but he felt he could see Stirna too, showing Ulo how the coat hid her figure, excitement flashing in her eyes. He cleared his throat. 

“A padded jack like that will do a lot to hide those apples on your chest, too.” Ulo could hear Ivar make a choking noise behind him.

Othilea pulled the jacket close around her neck, shooting him an offended look he wasn’t sure was genuine. “I’d appreciate it if you stopped looking at my tits.”

Ulo shrugged, “I’d appreciate it if you had nicer tits.” Ivar wheezed and Ulo turned to thump him on the back. “Do you reckon we could get away with saying she’s mute, too?”

Othilea gasped and kicked Ulo in the shin. He grinned at her.

“He’s got a point,” Ivar said. “Your voice is too soft, no one would believe you’re a man. At least not a whole man– I hear in some places they–.”

“It’s fine!” she cut in hurriedly. “It’s fine. I can be mute. Just call me…,” Othilea paused for a moment, pursing her lips in thought. “Call me Otto.”

Ulo looked at Othilea. She seemed too comfortable changing her name. It was smart, too, picking a male name that was similar to her own. She fastened the gambeson across her chest, the padding broadening her shoulders and flattening her. With her hair cut short from her time at the abbey and those ugly scars distracting from any natural beauty she might have once possessed, it would be easy for strangers to think she was a young man.

He slung an arm around Othilea’s shoulder. “Well, Otto, let’s get some rest.” He glanced up at the sky, seeing the moon rise above the trees. “The sooner I can get these stitches out, the better.”

Othilea turned, her eyes meeting Ulo’s and her honeyed breath upon his cheek. She smiled lopsidedly and nodded emphatically before slipping out from under his arm to tend the campfire.

Ulo raised his head to the moon again, the smell of honey lingering in the air.

[twotangledsisters]

The stuff I REGRET from the S1 of my Tangled Sisters AU!

Spoilers ahead, obviously!

So, it's done. S1 is over, and we're heading into S2!

With over 300k words though, it's obvious that not every word goes without regret.

Most of these regrets are more: I had a good idea too late, but I thought it'd be fun to go over some:

1.- Cass' hair.

So, in the beginning of the final S1 fic, Cass mentions how her hair needs cutting, but she's considering keeping it long because it's more regal, only for her to cut it short again at the end of this fic as she won't be performing her duty as a princess for a while.

I liked this concept but as I wrote her cutting her hair I realized... What if she'd never cut her hair short? What if she'd kept her hair long because it's what Gothel liked, and then she kept it long because it was princess-like?

Then cutting her hair could have been symbolic of her finally pausing and thinking, what do I want? And it would be a nice transition for S2 where she has no obvious responsibilities and is able to concentrate more on who she is as a person, not as a sister or a princess but as her own person.

2.- Eugene and Rapunzel's Engagement.

I'm glad Eugene didn't ask Rapunzel to get engaged during the coronation in front of all those people. Cass was right. That wasn't a good idea.

But at the time of writing my plan was for him to ask her sometime in S1... and that didn't happen.

And now I sort of wish it had, I think it would have been nice for them to get engaged back in S1 and to be an engaged couple during S2 and onward (yeah, I'd lose a very cute scene from my notes of the engagement but that scene is now so far off and I feel bad for them taking this long).

Plus, they could have scheduled the wedding for after getting back from S2 but been forced to postpone it due to the events of S3!

Agh, why didn't I do that?!

It's also true that there's a lot more drama taking place in this fic from politics to Cass' health to future issues, so perhaps it's good for them to have this time as a couple before they become an engaged couple but I'm impatient.

3.- Captain's presence in the story (or lack there off).

In my original notes he was a mentor to Cassandra who was meant to be almost as important as character's such as Lance or Caine... But that didn't happen. All the big plots points I had with him happened:

-He was there for Cass in Two Tangled Sisters

-Cass confronted him on some of his opinions about Eugene and other criminals

-He stood up to Cassandra during the blizzard, putting her safety above even the orders of royalty

But that's it really.. I knew Cassandra wasn't going to have being a guard as her end-game, rather it was a stepping stone towards the bigger issues Corona's justice system face, but originally I thought we'd see more of Captain and he just faded into back.

I guess Corona had a rather big cast of characters, so managing them all wasn't ever going to be possible. But, he isn't going anywhere; he plays a pretty big role in the prequel and does more in S3.

I just wish we'd gotten more moments of insight into Cass' journey into wielding a weapon rather than a broom.

At least she still has the dagger he gave her back in the coronation and it remains her favourite weapon, which is sweet and shows the impact he had on her.

4.- I forgot Owl in the last arc...

He would have 100% located Cass and tried to tell somebody. The arc could have been a lot shorter and less angsty but oh well, sorry Owl.

5.- The animals!

Talking of Owl, I wish we saw more of the animals. I absolutely adore Max, Pascal, Fidella, Owl, Ruddiger, but other than mentioning they're in the room, it's hard to find roles for the critters and they end up not getting the attention they deserve.

They get a bit more attention in season 2 or at least I hope they will.

6.- Keira and Catalina...

Again, same as animals. I wish they'd gotten more attention. Hopefully, they will get more attention in S2. I thought after Lance adopted them, we'd get to see more of them, but instead Lance was too busy parenting to go on some of the adventures so we just got less of all three of them!

Godamnit Eugene, why are you so responsible? Let the children fight! Let Lance risk his life despite being a father! Don't you know it's a story and everything will end up okay regardless?

7.- The Justice System!

It's a huge plot point, it's Cassandra's main motivation and her largest accomplishment this season, but... We don't see enough of it. We see it failing through Eugene, Caine and Attila, but I wish we'd spent some time on smaller crimes.

Showing a petty thief getting tackled by guards just for Cassandra to run up and shout at them because they were being too harsh.

Having Cassandra talk to some of the palace dungeon's residents to hear out their stories.

Visiting Corona's orphanage and seeing the systems and education that's in place...

I don't know, it's a huge plot-line and it could have used a bit more showing off.

8.- Apple's Death and the Truth Serum...

I don't think this was the right time for Rapunzel to find out. In my original notes, she didn't find out until S2 while in Equis. I have no idea why I randomly decided; you know what, we're spilling the tea now instead! It wasn't a bad moment by any means, but... I think it could have been better.

My original notes, Rapunzel found out via Cherry, they stopped at the farm on the way to Vardaros and Cherry accidentally let it slip, this of course made Rapunzel think about how she didn't fully know Eugene and the lengths to which he'd go, which could affect her perception of the entire Stalyan situations in Vardaros.

I think that was better.

Alright, that's all I can think of right now!

I'm sure there's more stuff, but these are my biggest regrets.

Like I said, not huge, just thought it'd be interesting to share!

I could do one on opposite regrets too but I think that'd be a lot more boring than this because, well, these are stuff that could have happened and the other list would be things everybody already knows xD

[iomadachd]

@lediableblanc-amoureuxdechats asked: Scar- Viktor

Send a word and I will write a drabble or headcanon based on it- Letter S (accepting)

Viktor is no stranger to scars, both mental and physical. How could he be when he'd grown up in the infamous Umbrella Academy?

Even worse, he'd grown up believing he was ordinary, normal and mundane in every possible way compared to his siblings. He's been damaged by that for as long as he can remember. In a whole house of special people, he had just been Number Seven Hargreeves, the failure of the family.

While his siblings were getting uniforms and domino masks, Viktor had only had his school uniform or more casual clothes for the off-hours. Not that there had been off-hours outside of being asleep, but it had existed.

He had been the one to hold the clipboard and take down all the times, all the statistics, and all the notations. His siblings had gotten to practice with their powers and do drills and have tattoos. They belonged, and Viktor had always been on the outside looking in.

Sure, he understood now that all of them had been damaged by how they were raised, but at the time, it felt so very targeted, and all he'd wanted was to be doing the same things they were. He still badly wanted a matching tattoo, but he'd never tell anyone that was the case.

His dad had kept him out of a sense of duty, or at least that's what he'd thought it was. Now, he knew better. Reginald had only kept Viktor to keep him under control, and to ensure he wouldn't do anything to potentially destroy the world.

It hadn't worked, and Viktor had ended up learning he had powers, and that he was special after all. He was just too dangerous to be allowed to be special. That scared little kid had never really recovered from the shame of being normal, from being hidden in the shadows.

Maybe that was why he'd written the memoir that he had all those years ago. He had wanted to be in the sunlight so badly, and he had just wanted to be seen for once. He was worth more than holding a clipboard. He was worthy of love.

Everything he'd done had backfired in some way.

The book had infuriated his siblings, and the estrangement had really only gotten worse after he'd released it. He wasn't sorry that he'd written it, only sorry that his brothers and sister hadn't been able to see beyond their own reputations. He knew his dad had never read it, and that it had simply collected dust on his shelves. Really, Viktor had been surprised the book was on a shelf instead of in the trash.

Love. Love had backfired even worse, and he knew it was because he'd been naive, and had wanted to assume the best in people, instead of taking them with a grain of salt. He'd learned that lesson in the worst way possible, and he dearly wished some days that he could go back and do it all over.

They'd all tried that and it had failed twice over now, and the timelines were so screwed up that there was no untangling the damage they'd done.

He'd chanced love again, and that had failed spectacularly in not one, but two timelines. He'd lost the people he'd grown to care about who had truly cared about him. Sissy and Harlan were utterly irreplaceable in his heart. Sometimes, he resents his siblings more than he should for having to leave them.

He definitely resents Allison, and he wishes that he didn't. He doesn't resent her actions when they were kids, but everything from 2019 on? He doesn't recognize his sister anymore.

He will never not feel guilty for cutting her throat, but she has weaponized it against him, and so he's accepted that any progress they'd made before is long gone. He has a better chance of a relationship with Lila than Allison.

So yes, Viktor is very familiar with scars, and the ones that have been left on him, and the ones he has left on others, both physical and mental.

There are simply some things that time won't heal.

[satorugojooo]

Night strolls

Ayato x reader

Warnings: none, just fluff <3

A/n: did yall see Ayato? I'm actually about to pass out because of how he looks AND HIS VOICE OH MY GOD 😳💗

"Good evening my lady." Ayato said with a soft voice as he glanced at you.

"Greetings Ayato, enjoying the evening?" you said with your fan at your lips and he smiled.

"Now even more because of you." he told you and you blushed.

"Ah yes indeed, how have you been lately?" you said as you started to walk next to him. He just chuckled and looked down at you.

"Do you really wish to know?" he said and you looked at him.

"You are a dear friend of mine Ayato, of course I wish to know, plus, your sister would worry if she wouldn't know how you are, you need to open up a little." you said and he gave a defeated sign.

"Fine fine, I surrender myself to your mighty judgement!" he said and you laughed.

"How can such a serious head of the Yashiro Comission and head of the Kamisato clan be so playful sometimes?" you asked and he just smiled.

"I must admit that this is just the effect you have upon me my lady." he said and looked down at you once again.

"Still the same charmer I see." you said with a small grin and he got closer to you.

"Only for you my dear." he said and you tried not to die there from how flustered you got. Right now you were at the bridge from Inazuma city, near the water and that small shrine for the kitsune. As you looked at the sky, you sighted.

"Ah its such a beautiful night, I wish we could stay like this, no clan affairs, no etiquette lessons or way to act before everyone, here we can be ourselves." you said.

"Indeed very beautiful." he said and you looked at him only to see that he wasn't looking at the sky, oh no, quite the opposite, he was looking at you with such an adoration.

"Ayato-" you tried to say but he held your hands so you would look at him.

"Look, I know that maybe you think it would be complicated for us to start something, after all we both rule over clan's with big duties, but, believe me, we can make it trough together." he said and looked at you in the eyes.

"But... What about the others? If we get together, they will expect us to marry, have heirs, and our whole relationship will be public..." you said and he took your cheek in his hand.

"You don't have to do all that if you don't feel like it, we are the own rulers of our lives, so why care about what the others think?" he said and you looked at his blue orbs. They were charming, just like his sister's eyes.

"I- alright, if you really think it could work, I'm willing to give it a chance." you said and he smiled at you slowly approaching you. When you were at centimeters away from his face, he connected your lips with his, kissing you sweetly. You felt as if this was the right thing to happen, a lot of thoughts invaded your head and all you could think of was him, the one you loved soo much.

When you broke, he looked at you and caressed your cheeks with his fingers.

"What about you come and have dinner with me and my sister? I'm sure she would enjoy your company as much as I do." he said and you chuckled.

"How could I refuse to see Ayaka and Thoma, I missed them so much, but I missed you even more." you added and he smirked.

"I didn't expect anything else my dear, after all I'm your soul mate." he said and you rolled your eyes.

"As you say "lord" Kamisato. "you said and he grabbed your waist pushing you into him.

"You will get to see me as lord Kamisato too one day, dear, just wait and see." he said and grinned as you blushed hard.

And with that, you both headed to the Kamisato Estate.

Hope you enjoyed! :D

Requests are opened, just text me or request me stuff, I write about genshin characters, bsd, jjk, mha and aot characters tho <333

And don't forget, Ayato wanters will be Ayato havers, hopefully me included 🤣