#(the old fox himself ; visage)

[winterfollows]

It's after midnight and you stumble off the main road and though the underbrush, miles outside of any towns; the light of the winter stars your only guide as you follow the beckoning of a single, silvery, lilting voice drifting ahead of you--it hangs in the air like a cool mist, a gentle embrace, and compulsion drives you until you can begin to catch glimpses of its source through the trees.

What do you do?

[sonicasura]

Alternate idea for TFA Optimus being stranded on Arachnus Seven instead of Elita-1. First off he doesn't turn into a spider. Nope, I'm going for another creature that lurks in caves but tend to eat critters like spiders: BATS.

Fun fact: Optimus Primal's original design had been a bat before it was replaced with the gorilla we know and love. As for the OP here... I'll going for multiple inspirations so he can truly be alien like. Mainly because the 'bat' Animated became was an equal level predator to the Arachna Seven Spiders.

This four winged species which I'll call 'Arachna Nebulas' went extinct due to outside interference as the bat genus in general are very sensitive to changes in their environment. We all know what happens when an ecosystem is heavily disturbed. Optimus was lucky enough to find intact enough remains to become Vetaleus Prime.

Vetaleus being a word play on Vetala, a mythological vampiric bat like entity that takes over cadavers. Fitting as in a way OP is dead whether it be to those he once knew or his old self. For Arachna Nebulas, it's from the Cosmic Bat Nebula that can be found in Orion's Constellation.

Now I have two types of inspiration for Vetaleus Prime. One from the real world while the other is media consumed over the years. For bot mode, I introduce you to Yu-Gi-Oh's King of the Feral Imps and Digimon's VenomMyotismon.

Considering he had remains for this reformat than an alive specimen, OP's techno-organic nature has glaring differences when it comes to his modes. His thick fur becomes large mane like clusters around the helm/wrists/ankles while thinning out half way down his torso as defensive measures shift to the bones of the secondary wings become spikes and horns.

A 33 ft bulky frame meant for sheer force whether it be large powerful claws n talons, sharp piercing teeth to drain a prey's life, powerful tail that can flatten, or even large ears which can hear an ant breathe. Vetaleus Prime's bat like face doesn't help in portraying his gentle yet nervous nature and his still Autobot colors remain under scrutiny. No stereotypical evil Fateswap OP's in this house.

Onto the Arachna Nebulas' mode, I have fictional inspiration alongside three real world ones. Meet the Golden Crowned Flying Fox, Vampire Bat, White Honduran Bat and Monster Hunter's Paolumu!

Optimus is very fluffy in alt mode as the Nebulas' thick fur prevents the spiders from injecting their venom into him. Akin to the Paolumu inspiration than just visage, there's a special air sac in the neck that allows the species to not only float but also spit large blasts of pressurized air if their hammerlike tail slaps don't do the job. Here's the boss fight from Monster Hunter World for further details.

Vetaleus Prime's alt mode is built with the 'bob and weave' concept. Dodging the opponent's strikes while landing your own attacks on them. His larger upper arm wings makes it easier to move and adjust his trajectory in float as the secondary protects the less fluffy parts of the body.

In alt mode Vetaleus has more animalistic mannerisms. Growling, purring, roaring, and whining to convey his mood. He grooms himself like any other animal much to confusion of those around him.

Those mannerisms are still present in bot mode but Optimus tries not to unless alone or around others he trusts. He can't escape from nesting though. One of the ways to our bat bot can make himself feel comfortable and safe.

Like with Arachnus Prime, Vetaleus Prime goes into self exile knowing that Cybertron will never accept him. He ends up on Earth because of poachers who visited Arachnus Seven to capture some spiders to sell on the black market. A conflict that leads to a crash landing before canon occurs.

Optimus here has a more harsher craving when it comes to organics as his primal nature no longer has those giant spiders to satisfy him. It isn't uncommon for the deer and bear population to decline but also poachers or illegal hunters to disappear. You can say Vetaleus Prime holds a feral grudge on this specific group. Unless he has a good supply of oil than Cybertronian are in sheer danger from a feral episode.

Vetaleus craves companionship but isolates him due to fear. He has hurt others before and doesn't want to harm innocent people or much worse a companion. A fear made more apparent from his feral outbursts if refueling needs aren't satiated.

Ways to sustain this primal nature becomes more difficult once Vetaleus is forced to make the sewers his den. Stealing from food delivery trucks WILL happen if he cannot find ample resources in time. A desperate action that solidify his cryptid status as the 'Detroit Devil', escaping with the quarry in hand before anyone fully sees him.

Vetaleus Prime does his best to remain being hidden and indulge soothing hobbies like reading or knitting than cause people potentially dangerous strife. A task that might become impossible when the past ends up in Detroit. Or the haunting realization of what can happen should Vetaleus fail to satisfy his other side.

Team Elita-1 best be careful. An innocent monster is just as dangerous as any other. Optimus rather not sink his fangs into someone he considers a dear old friend but evil will not miss an opportunity like this...

That's it for now! Until next time folks, I'll see you back at the crossroads between Detroit and Cybertron! Now Transform and Roll Out!

[sekiromi]

A Devil You Do, ch. 8

pairing(s): Raphael x Tav/Reader, Astarion x Tav/Reader themes: reincarnation, soul bond, past lives, lost memories, pining, slow burn cw/tw: canon-typical violence, gore word count: 8.3k previous chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [read this fic in all its glory on ao3!]

Chapter Eight: The Mouse's Gambit

You can't compromise with evil, it always profits in the end.

“Well, well, looks like the mouse has made herself quite at home in the fox’s den.”

Raphael expected you to wake with a start, eyes pinging open with urgency, heart thundering as you realised your surroundings, noticing the devil before you, stumbling over yourself in a rushed apology and feeble explanation as to why you had taken the liberty to let yourself into his rooms, undoubtedly look through his things, then fall asleep on his chair.

But you did not so much as twitch in your sleep.

He frowned, stepping closer, examining your serene visage, looking only slightly uncomfortable contorted into the tight spot. There was no sign of awareness, no suggestion that you were registering anything that was going on around you. How long you had been passed out here for, Raphael was not sure. He knew you had crossed the threshold into the Devil’s Den a couple of hours ago, and thought it strange he had not sensed you leave, but now he could see why.

The exhaustion had finally caught up with you. Your delicate, fragile mortal form was entirely spent, unable to do much apart from rest.

With a sigh he snapped his fingers, transporting you from the rather uncomfortable loveseat to the plush sheets of the bed in the adjoining room, smoothing out the fabric on the chair wrinkled by your sleeping body once vacated. Still, you uttered no sound, gave no sign of stirring, so he busied himself with refreshing the room, filing his contracts, and straightening out his things. He had to smile to himself when he opened his wardrobe, seeing his coat hung neatly in the back, his scent mingled with yours in an enticing aroma. Slowly, he ran his hand over the fabric, remembering how you looked grasping it around your shoulders, bracing against the fresh night air.

In the bedroom, you sunk into a sleep so deep it felt like a temporary death. Raphael watched you from the archway for some time, leaning against the frame and looking for the slow rise and fall of your shoulders, evidence that you had not wandered too far into that beckoning abyss. He became somewhat fascinated, watching you sleep so soundly. Rarely having a need for it himself, and with no logical day and night cycle in Avernus, he could not remember the last time he had slept. There had probably been a few occasions he had dozed off, even his life had its dull moments of course, but to lay down his head and cocoon himself between crisp bedsheets, closing his eyes for hours at a time? No, he could not recall that ever happening.

Drawn closer by the pull of the tide of your breathing, he stood over you and tilted his head. Your sleeping body, lax and unaware, betrayed all the thoughts your mouth would not say. When he lifted his hand to your cheek, ever so delicately brushing the tips of his fingers across the sun-kissed skin, your lips curved into a tiny smile. When he retreated, it disappeared, replaced by a quivering confusion and idle displeasure. He had half an urge to sit beside you, run his hand across your hair, stroking gently like a doting mother, humming an old lullaby to settle your unconscious mind, but he did not.

A fragment of a memory struck him all of a sudden as he regarded your sleeping form, images of bare, tangled limbs in the dead of night, a bed of dew-laden grass, silent stars twinkling overhead, tender, wandering hands and a devastating fall from grace.

Winded by the pain the sudden intrusion wrought from his chest, he choked it back down, banishing those images, scenes he had sworn never to think on again, from his mind. Unsettled by the memory, he withdrew from the room, tearing away from your bedside, relegating himself to an armchair tucked into an alcove by the door. He could just about still see you from this new position, keep an eye on you just in case, and made sure to give you one last glance before he settled in to idly compile his latest business dealings, distracting his addled mind, waiting for you to wake.

Meanwhile, the combination of the feather-stuffed pillows cushioning your head, the comforting warmth of the lavish sheets beneath you, and the smell of Raphael and his things drove you deeper into unconsciousness, deeper into your dreams.

“Let us flip for it, then. Heads, I’m white, tails, you’re black?”

“Very we— hold on, that’s not how that works.”

You grinned at the devil before you, approaching the table with a soul coin humming in your hands, rolling it skilfully across the backs of your fingers as you slid into the seat across from him.

“Alright, you call it.” With a flick of your thumb the coin shot into the air, spinning rapidly as Raphael declared “Heads,” watching as you caught it in the palm of your right hand, flipping it onto the back of your left, uncovering it to reveal who would get to play white in the game of lanceboard that was in the process of being set up between you both. “Ah, bad luck Raff. Maybe next time.”

“Hm, I suspect you have a biased coin…” Raphael sulked as you each began stationing your pieces, organising them perfectly in the middle of their respective squares.

“You’re a sore loser, you know that?”

He frowned at you, delicately placing his last pawn as you readjusted your queen.

“Just start.”

With a smirk you obeyed, advancing the pawn in front of your king two spaces, a move that Raphael mirrored. Next you moved your kingside knight to f3, trying not to smile as your opponent took his queenside knight to c6. Then it was bishop to c4, knight to f6, a quick trading of pawns and you were threatening his queen with your knight on the sixth move. With a small frown he claimed your knight with his king, allowing you to place him in check with your queen.

“I see you’ve been practising. That was ‘The Fried Liver Attack’, no?” He asked, resting his cheek against his fist, annoyed he had not foreseen the move and instead played right into it. But, then again, it was not one you had played before, and he could not remember encountering it previously. You nodded enthusiastically as you watched him peruse his pieces, deciding what to do.

“Yes. I read about it in the book you recommended.” You explained, folding your arms as you watched with baited breath to see what he would do. Perhaps it was the surprise of your new opening, or maybe he was not on form that day, but he made a blunder, uncharacteristically retreating his king to g8, allowing you to pursue checkmate in three.

“Perhaps I should revoke your access to my library…” He teased, growing increasingly frustrated at his lack of options as you pressed.

“You would not dare.”

“Oh, wouldn’t I?”

You narrowed your gaze at him, a thrum of deadly, divine power surging from within, rippling beneath your skin and behind your eyes as you silently challenged him to try it. He cocked an eyebrow, shifting his gaze back down to the board with a nod, telling you to get on with your next move. With slightly excessive force you made your last one.

“Checkmate.” You announced, leaning back in your seat as Raphael sighed deeply.

“Well, that was a quicker game than I was hoping.” He observed, looking forlornly at his pinned king. “…Another?”

For a moment you considered it, deciding to give him a chance to emerge victorious, aware that should you beat him again his mood would only sour more, so would it really be a win at all? He could sulk for days when he felt like it. Despite being nearly three hundred years old, he could still act like such a child.

“Alright.”

You each swivelled the board around, swapping sides and quickly resetting the pieces. Raphael, as usual, opted to move his pawn to e4, but instead of responding in kind you decided to try something different. Adopting the Cormyrian Defence , you moved your pawn to c5. Raphael seemed to have been expecting this, and countered you with Mystril’s Gambit , developing his attacks rapidly and putting you in a tricky spot, unable to adequately position your queen.

The game dragged on endlessly, his merciless attacks leaving you with few options to develop your pieces and make your own counter. Despite having an extra pawn and a central pawn majority, you could not find a way to gain the upper hand and maintain control of it. After some time of fruitlessly moving pieces back and forth, you offered your hand to resign the game.

“No. Keep playing.” Raphael said with a frown, swatting your hand away. He had ridded himself of his outer garments, crisp white sleeves uncuffed and rolled up to his elbows, betraying his growing impatience with the game. You sighed, rolling up your own sleeves, and went to make a deliberately bad move as to forfeit the game. “No.” Raphael’s voice was stern, warning, eyes drilling into you with such a fierce intensity that your heart stuttered in your chest. “Make a proper move.”

Slightly afraid of incurring his wrath, you removed your hand and made an effort to properly scan the board, settling on a more appropriate move. Raphael responded, and eventually you saw his plan: distract you from castling to reveal a hidden kingside attack. You took the opportunity to castle, saw Raphael’s eyes widen a fraction before a proud sort of smile settled on his lips.

“Very good.” He praised in a low hum, ashamedly causing the back of your neck to burn.

“Enough of the commentary. Just play.”

The devil chuckled, making his counter, his eyes flicking from the board to you as you traded moves. He adored watching you think, seeing your eyes shift over the pieces one by one, mentally mapping out their possible paths and laying out all of the options before you. You chewed on the inside of your lip as you thought of what to do next, but he could tell you knew there would be no victory for you. So, you went along with the only moves that made sense, until he had you in checkmate.

“Well played.” You commented, extending your hand for him to shake. He grasped it gently, giving you a nod.

“Likewise. Now, I would like to claim my prize for my victory.”

You quirked an eyebrow, looking at him with an amused expression.

“Oh? And what do you declare your prize to be?”

“A kiss.” He smiled almost sweetly, expression reminding you of the boy you had found by the river all of those centuries ago.

“Just a kiss?” You asked with a grin, moving to stand and round the table, placing yourself in between his legs as his hands trailed up your outer thighs to settle on your hips.

“Just a kiss.” He answered, voice low and quiet.

“Very well, then.”

You leaned down, capturing his lips with your own as your hand moved to cup his jaw, tasting fruit and wine and fire smoke. He smiled into the kiss, hands grasping you more desperately, as he murmured something in Infernal against your lips;

“Xe dajy haf.”

You awoke slowly, full of grogginess and a dark ocean swirling in your head. It took a moment for your surroundings to come into focus as a groan slid its way out of your throat, but you struggled to recognise where you were.

Sitting up slowly, you noticed the familiar red linens, extravagant furniture, and signature smell of the Devil’s Den with a sickening sense of dread.

Why am I on the bed…?

You did not remember falling asleep here and had no idea how long you had been out for. Looking to your right towards the window, it was getting late in the day, the sun hanging low in the sky and the brilliant hues of golden hour flooding the room.

With great effort you slid from the soft bed and onto your feet, wincing at the stiffness in your joints and muscles that had been asleep for far too long as you shuffled haphazardly towards the front room. It was not until you got within a few feet of him that you noticed Raphael sat in an armchair before you, tucked away into the wall, eyes fixed on you curiously. Frozen in your tracks, all you could do was stop and stare at him, mortified by the sound of your own heartbeat now ringing in your ears.

“So, you’ve finally decided to rejoin the land of the living, hm? I trust you slept well.” He closed the book he was reading, banishing it to another realm with a flourish of his hand as he reclined in his seat, eyes looking you over.

“…How long was I asleep for?” You asked, eyes still half-lidded, not yet firing on all cylinders. He smiled and lifted himself from the chair, moving to stand just a few inches in front of you.

“Practically the whole afternoon.”

“Oh.” You looked down, slightly sheepish all of a sudden. “Sorry. I came to return your coat but then…I must’ve fallen asleep.” Confused and disoriented, you rubbed at your temples, attempting to remember exactly how you had ended up on his bed.

“Yes, you did look quite exhausted when I returned. I moved you to the bed, I thought you might find it more comfortable.” He explained, watching your face as it shifted through a medley of mixed emotions.

“Ah…thank you.”

“It’s no matter. Was there any other reason for your visit?” Raphael probed, and for a moment you felt entirely too exposed, wondering if he knew you had sort of been hoping to see him again, before realising what he meant.

Ah. The contract.

“Um, no, not particularly…”

A hint of disappointment fell across Raphael’s face, quickly dismissed with a nod.

“Very well.” He looked at you curiously as you made no effort to move or respond, clearing his throat awkwardly to disrupt the silence. Your eyes held a vacant look, unspoken thoughts troubling you as you stood with a slightly unstable sway. “Please, don’t let me keep you. I’m sure your companions are expecting your return.”

Blinking a few times you nodded, rubbing some of the sleep from your eyes as you turned to look at the dark metal of the doors, the sacred barriers keeping your mind safe from prying eyes, keeping your thoughts your own.

“Actually,” you began without much thought, “is it okay if I stay a while? I’m not ready…to deal with this, just now.” You tapped a finger to the side of your head, a displeased look on your features that Raphael immediately understood. “But…I don’t want to talk about the contract at all, please.”

“Of course. What’s mine is yours, within reason. And no business.”

You smiled in thanks, stretching your limbs and taking a moment to properly inspect your surroundings, tracing slow footsteps across the room. You noticed for the first time the numerous rose petals scattered across the floor, adrift in the swirling water of the bath, the faint hint of rosewood incense on the air, the two sparkling, empty goblets arranged neatly beside an unopened bottle of Thayan red on the console table.

“Do you…seduce clients here?” You asked, brow furrowed, gaze distracted as your pace slowed, still evaluating your surroundings, already knowing the answer.

“I’m quite certain I have no idea what you mean.” Raphael replied evenly, voice laced with a teasing tone. You scoffed unintentionally and returned to your surveying. He watched your movements curiously, folding his arms and bringing a thoughtful hand to his chin. “You know, envy is a sin, my dear.”

You whipped your head around to glare at him, eyes fierce and voice exasperated, any hint of sleepiness now gone.

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Oh, you didn’t have to.” He hummed. You cursed yourself silently. When did he catch on to that little secret of yours? You felt like you were barely even aware of it yourself. Perhaps you were just that easy to read, or maybe he was just teasing for the sake of it. Regardless, it was bad enough having the Emperor digging around in the deepest recesses of your thoughts every passing second, and it seemed Raphael’s company would provide you with little of the relief you had been looking for, merely trading one evil for another.

His lips tilted into a smirk, entirely too devilish for your tastes, although you supposed he could not really help that. Your lungs heaved a sigh as you looked to the Heavens, offering a silent prayer for the Gods to grace you with the strength to maintain your dignity in the devil’s presence.

“Would you like me to employ that line of persuasion? I wouldn’t want my favourite client to feel left out, after all.” He stepped closer, intentions entirely flirtatious, but realised his mistake as your nose scrunched up in response. You answered quickly, sharply, before you could think too much about it, let yourself be half-tempted by the offer.

“No. I’ve had enough of being manipulated with sex, thank you.”

Raphael tilted his head, felt a very brief pang of something in his chest (Was that genuine sympathy? No, surely not) before turning towards the table and pulling out the cork from the bottle of wine.

“Understandable. What about just a drink, then? No strings attached.” With an air of grace entirely at odds with his nature, he filled the cup on the left before extending it towards you. He watched you eye it, and then him, suspiciously, expression distrusting and arms tucked in closely, entire body guarded, ready to detect deceit. He let the smile drop for a beat, allowing you a peak at something more genuine. “You look like you need it.”

Gingerly you accepted, reaching a hand out slowly to grasp the stem, retreating a safe distance once it was in your hands. Raphael smiled, quickly filled his own cup, and raised it towards you.

“To our continued alliance.” He chimed. You smiled, raising your own goblet, simply said, “Sure,” and waited for him to take a sip first before taking your own, a gesture which highly amused him. In truth, it had not even crossed his mind to lace your drink with something.

The wine was soft and sweet on your tongue, full-bodied and silky with notes of blackberry and plum.

“Have you always had such a hard time trusting others?” He asked, smirk creeping back onto his lips.

“No, actually. It all started about two months ago when I met this insufferable devil.” You snapped, before launching into a rant about all the trickery, deceit, and enemies you had encountered on your perilous journey thus far in some pretty colourful language. The hag, the shape-changer, the Emperor, even the devil himself – you unloaded it in a glorious monologue that, were it not for the slightly unfavourable picture you had painted of him, he would have felt compelled to applaud. Afterwards, you took a much-needed breath, glanced at Raphael, then looked away quickly, a little embarrassed by your rant and worried for his reaction, particularly since you called him ‘insufferable’, which was not exactly true. You could suffer him well enough, you had learned.

Raphael blinked a few times, took another sip of wine, then added fuel to the fire as punishment for your poor manners.

“Oh, and do not forget the elven vampire spawn who manipulated you into liking and protecting him by bedding you, twice.”

You choked on your wine and let out an exhausted groan.

“Thank you for reminding me!” It was still a sore topic. Although you had now forgiven Astarion and remained friends, the ease with which he had played you still stung, the fact that you never noticed the disingenuousness of your entanglements bringing a great deal of shame to rest on your already weighed-down shoulders. “Wait, how do you know about that?” You suddenly asked, turning to throw an accusatory look his way. Raphael had the decency to look a little ashamed, but only a little.

“You of all people should know by now that I have eyes everywhere.” Korilla, you realised. A subtle blush bloomed on your cheeks and across your nose, wondering what detail your little trysts had been recounted to him in. You folded your arms and hugged them in close, taking a tentative sip of wine.

“I took you for many things, Raphael, but a pervert was not one of them.” You relished in the frown that fell across his features as he neared the edge of his patience. You were not always on your best behaviour for him, but to insult him twice in his own office? Now that was a level of insolence he would not usually tolerate.

He had more patience than usual for you, though, so he corrected his expression and presented you with something more amiable.

“Pray tell, little mouse, what other things do you take me for?” He asked in a highly suggestive voice. If you could roll your eyes with any more vigour, they might fall from your head and roll away.

“Point proven.” You gestured a finger towards him while he simply chuckled, the low, smooth sound rumbling in his chest. Your heart stuttered within your own, only just, only for a moment, before correcting its pace and resuming a more normal rhythm. Gods this creature vexed you so.

“My apologies, but you must allow me my fun now and then. My other clients are all so frightfully boring.” His mouth contorted into a shape of displeasure, eyes tired at the thought of all the other deals and contracts he had been working on in the background. In truth, there was only one thing he cared about: you. Or, rather, what you could do for him. What you could do for each other. That was what he kept telling himself, anyway.

“Does that mean you find me interesting, then?” You asked as you meandered past, attention now idly focused on the spines of the tomes lining the shelves in the corner of the bedroom, head tilting this way and that to read them.

“I thought that was self-evident.” Raphael stepped closer as you perused the books, turning his gaze downwards as you crouched to look at the lower shelves more easily.

“Well, perhaps I just wanted to hear you say it.” The balance of the conversation had shifted slightly, for once, and Raphael was not sure how to feel about it. Distracted by the way your eyelashes fluttered as you glanced across the row, he answered without thinking.

“I feel ‘interesting’ is too mundane a word, I find you to be fascinating.” That seemed to catch even you off guard, and he knew he had said something careless the moment your doe eyes landed on his, looking up at him from beneath those feathery lashes. He coughed lightly, clearing his throat, and prepared to try to rectify his mistake. “Of course, why would you not be? As I said, you have impressed me thus far, somehow accomplished the impossible more than once now, vanquished mighty foes, survived certain death, and avoided sprouting any tentacles along the way. Quite the reputation you’re earning for yourself as well, might I add.” You smiled at that ever-present flirtatious lilt in his voice, thought of all the other clients he had used it on, how many others had fallen for it.

“My, my, you’re feeling very generous today. Any reason for the excessive flattery?” He did not fail to notice the way you mimicked his tone. He did not want to admit, even to himself, how much he enjoyed it.

“Excessive? You do yourself a disservice, my dear. Any flattery from me is entirely deserved.” You stood slowly, deliberately, now just a whisper away from him. He could smell the faint hint of fresh mint on your breath, the cedar and vetiver that lingered on your hair and skin – was that a perfume or was that just your natural scent? Either way, it was utterly divine. He felt his fingers twitch towards a loose strand before he stopped himself. “Besides, must there be a reason? Perhaps I simply enjoy it.”

You turned to face him, dragging your eyes away from the books as if they were more worthy of your attention, before casting your gaze across his face, examining every crease and line, every hidden thought, until your eyes met. For a moment your attention drifted south of his eyes, lingering for just a beat too long somewhere near his chin before snapping back up. Had he imaged that? Did you just so brazenly look at his lips? He had lost track of who was toying with whom.

“I suppose that’s reason enough, then.”

For once, the devil was at a loss for words. You were mere inches away from him now, one deep breath and your chest would press against his, one quick move and he could have you just where he wanted you, flush against his body, burning skin against skin. He swallowed those thoughts down and took what he hoped was a sure-footed step back, putting a safe distance between you both, pretending he needed to refill his wine which was barely half drunk, just for an excuse to tear himself away from your unnerving gaze.

He was flustered, he realised. Something that he could not recall experiencing within the last century. How had you, a mere mortal of no extraordinary origin, managed to unsettle him so? How had you crawled your way into his thoughts, his life, his musings in his most private of moments? Why did he bother to check on you at all hours of the day, why was he concerned constantly with your whereabouts and your comings and goings? Why had he made it his business to know all of yours? He could try and convince himself his interest was purely of a professional and diabolical nature, that he was merely protecting his asset, but then why did his heart thrum wildly when he sensed you at his door at Sharess’ Caress? Why did the sight of you admiring him in the waning moonlight the evening prior flood his chest with warmth? Why had you done what no ordinary mortal had ever done before? Somehow, you had made him care for you, in his own way, and despite his nature he prayed you would never find this out.

He was unusually quiet as he laboriously filled his cup, eyes not meeting yours as you stepped closer. You had half an urge to try to detect his thoughts because you were just aching to know what was going through his head, but he would definitely not take kindly to that. In what you thought had been playful, flirtatious banter you had touched upon something, a nerve, an unspoken desire, and the devil was unravelling before you. You could seize this opportunity, you realised, take a step and pull at that thread until he came undone, until he was at your mercy, until you could make your own demands assured they would not fall on deaf ears. You would enjoy every second of it, too, seeing the usually so calm and collected Raphael brough to ruin beneath you.

But, it was not in your nature to manipulate and exploit, even when it came to him. Besides, it would be a double-edged sword anyway. One wrong move and he could easily flip the tables and take the upper hand, have you agreeing to sign away the Crown of Karsus and Hells know what else with the promise of undoubtedly ungodly pleasures. It was a fine line to tread, and you had to consciously remind yourself several times of what you had heard at the Blushing Mermaid, how upset that had made you.

“Care for another?” He asked, voice velvety and even once again as he extended a hand for your goblet which was now nearly empty. Surprised you had already a finished a glass, you handed it over and allowed him to refill it, aware that it was probably not a good idea to dull your senses too much in his company but also craving the numbness, itching for something to just take the edge off of all you had waded through so far.

“Thank you,” you said earnestly as you took the now full cup from him, fingers brushing his as you did so, sending a not entirely unpleasant tingle across the back of your hand. His smile, lacking its usual mirth, took you by surprise for a moment, and you hesitantly returned it.

“My pleasure. Now, for my gracious hospitality I do require something from your fine self…”

Your heart plunged into your stomach with a sickening gravity, colour momentarily drained from your face. How could you have been such a fool to think the devil would welcome you with open arms, provide some respite from your weary travels, and ask for nothing in return? Karlach and Wyll were right – would he make you sign the contract here and now? No, surely not, but then…what was he after? Raphael almost felt bad for causing the obvious distress that was written across your face, and put you out of your misery quickly.

“No need to fear, I merely ask you indulge me with a game of lanceboard. You play, do you not?” You watched him move past you, saunter towards the two armchairs in the corner of the bedroom, summoning an extravagant specimen of a board on the table between them with a flick of his wrist.  

“I dabble…” you followed, lowering yourself into the seat opposite him. “Though I’m no master by any means.” It was not a lie, you were not a lanceboard master, but you played well, back when you actually had time to play. Though, you had never faced an opponent quite like Raphael before.

“Do not undersell yourself my dear, the suggestion of the Theskan Double-Counter Gambit at the Last Light Inn was no small feat.” He began setting up his pieces, having given himself black, a curious decision since you felt like you knew he preferred to play as white. You would not argue, though, and slowly followed suit, positioning your white pieces in their correct spots.

“Perhaps, although I suspect you intentionally left that move open to throw the game.”

Raphael gasped dramatically.

“Now, that’s quite the accusation! I would never do such a thing. I am, if nothing else, an honourable opponent.” He said with a smirk, pushing his last pawn into place and taking a sip of his wine. You shook your head, unable to help the small smile that crept onto your lips.

“Alright, just don’t go easy on me. I don’t like to lose, but I absolutely hate a false victory.” You expressed, giving him a serious look.

“Noted. Please, begin when you like.”

You started with pawn to e4, a standard opening for white. Raphael thought for a second or two, and you wondered whether he would go for the Cormyrian Defence, before he mirrored your move and met your pawn head on. This gave you a chance to employ a variation of the Two Knights Defence, a favourite but infrequently used opener of yours. You advanced your knight, and he followed suit. You brought out your bishop, his other knight followed. You pushed, he brought forth another pawn. After trading pawns, you moved your knight to f7, in line to take his queen, and watched his face as he scrutinised the board. With a small frown, he reached for his Cyric, aiming to take your knight and remove the threat when suddenly he stopped, lips parting slightly, fingers just shy of committing to the move. You watched with baited breath as he declined taking your knight, opting instead to move his queen to e7, abut to your knight. You slumped your shoulders, a little disappointed but not too surprised. Raphael had probably encountered every opening, defence, and gambit possible in his time playing lanceboard, in fact he had most likely even created a few himself. Still, yours was not a common opener, since it required sacrificing a fairly valuable piece, and you had been hoping to catch him unprepared.

“The Fried Liver Attack…it’s been some time since I’ve encountered that opener. You almost had me.” He commented, running his fingers across his jaw thoughtfully.

“That was the aim…” You mused as you made your response.

“Where did you learn that?” He asked, considering his options.

“Read about it in a book once, I think. I know it’s not the strongest move, I just like the name.”

Raphael chuckled, nodding in agreement.

“Perhaps, although any move can be a strong one against an unprepared opponent. The first time I encountered the Fried Liver Attack, it was checkmate in under ten moves.”

“No chance of that today, I fear?”

“Hah, no such luck. You’ll have to try something else.”

Conversation flowed naturally while the game developed. He asked where you learned to play, you told him how your father taught you the basics and the rest you learned from books, and from playing against vastly superior opponents when the chance would arise. You recounted some of your favourite games in extraordinary clarity, able to remember each move as if you were playing them now, a fond smile on your face as you reminisced on your childhood. The way you described it made it sound rich and bright, warm and fuzzy around the edges and overflowing with a childlike, naïve sort of joyfulness that brought a mournful feeling to your heart when you thought about how long ago that was, and how much things had changed. You would give almost anything to return to those nourishing and easy days, relive a carefree childhood void of pain, tragedy, and heartbreak. To be a city kid again, roaming the familiar streets of Baldur’s Gate without crushing responsibilities, with loving parents to return to at the end of the day. But you were not a child anymore, and your parents were long dead.

You finished the last of your wine, now onto a third bottle, and decided to shift the focus of the conversation.

“Do you remember what it was like…to be a child? Is it different for devils?”

Raphael thought long on your question, so long in fact you started to wonder if he had even heard you. After a lengthy silence, he opened his mouth to reply.

“It is different, yes. I…do not remember it as well as I thought.”

There was a distant, sad look in his eyes as he tried to recall something now irretrievable, like trying to catch the light with his bare hands.

“What do you remember?” You asked softly, hesitantly, watching his face carefully for signs you were prying too callously.

“…It was lonely, until it wasn’t.” He paused to collect his thoughts; eyes focused somewhere in the middle distance. “I had to learn to survive by myself on this plane, a wretched, bestial creature by all accounts. My father, Hells curse him, let the world have its way with me, and the world was not kind.”

“What about your mother?” You asked without much thought, watching as his expression tightened into a mild frown, shaking his head with a melancholic sigh.

“Mortal mothers of cambions do not survive childbirth.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

To have never known the true, unrequited love of a mother, to have never been cradled against her breast and softly sung to sleep, to have never been cared for; the thought of it broke your heart. You wondered; did he miss his mother? Can you miss what you have never known?

“How did you survive? How did you make it here?” You were curious to know how anyone, even an immortal fiend, could make it through such an ordeal. To be completely alone from birth, to not only survive by oneself but to eventually thrive – how could such a thing be possible?

Raphael smiled stiffly, averting his eyes.

“Trust me my dear, you do not want to know the specifics.” He answered in a low, grave voice, conveying an implicit understanding that he would not divulge much more. “But eventually, I made a friend of sorts. They helped me and I helped them, and when it became clear he might have a use for me yet, my father brought me to the Hells and gave me my station in Avernus. The rest is, very dreary, history.”

“How generous of him.” You scoffed sarcastically, which Raphael nodded at with a smile.

“Indeed.” There was a brief pause. Raphael lifted his gaze to meet your own, not prepared for the sincerity swimming in your eyes, the genuine look on your face that said, ‘I’m sorry you had to go through that.’ It occurred to him no client had ever before cared to ask about his life, not that he usually felt inclined to speak on himself anyway. As with many things, you were the first. “Anyway, enough of that. I suspect you to be stalling from making your next move.”

You glanced down at the forgotten lanceboard between you, thoughts of your game having been entirely replaced with thoughts of Raphael and his ghastly childhood.

“I would never do such a thing…” You teased, refamiliarizing yourself with the pieces and their positions, as well as your own plan, but you were far too distracted to remember what you had been intending to do next. Not wanting to keep the devil waiting much longer, you made the move that seemed the most sensible to you.

The Cheshire grin that broke onto his face alerted you to your blunder immediately.

“And so, the mouse falls into the trap…”

By forcing a trade of queens, Raphael opened up a direct line to your cornered king, his unsuspecting pawns preventing you from making a move to avoid the now inevitable checkmate.

“Hells…” You grumbled, making the only move you could before he struck his final blow.

“I believe that, my dear, is checkmate.”

With a sigh you accepted his extended hand, shaking it half-heartedly because, despite it having been a good game, losing to him had now put you in a bad mood.

“Well played, Raff.”

He looked stunned for a moment, his hand freezing around yours uncharacteristically.

“What did you just say?” He asked with incredulity and confusion. You made a face, looking away, painfully embarrassed.

“Sorry, Rapahel, I have no idea why I called you that…” You offered, waiting for him to remove his hand, but he did not. When you looked back at him his face was still frigid with shock, looking somewhat troubled. It was rare that someone ever felt comfortable enough in his company to call him by anything other than his full name, especially something as common as ‘Raff’, and he could only think of one other.

No. I will not entertain this foolish hope again!

“…Raphael?” You leaned forwards, peering into his eyes that were focused on something you could not see, distracted by thoughts you would never know. You squeezed his hand very gently, almost imperceptibly, but it brought him out of his trance immediately. He withdrew from you suddenly, ripping his hand away as if he had been burned, leaving yours to hang limp and empty in between you both.

“Apologies…you must excuse me; you merely caught me by surprise.” He explained as you slowly removed your hand, settling it in your lap where it pulsed with the absence of his contact, the scorching shame of what felt like a rejection threatening to solder your throat shut. Had it really felt so vile to hold your hand longer than what was absolutely necessary? And why could he now not look at you?

Raphael had turned his attention to the window towards the darkening sky, the hour having grown late. The candles in the Devil’s Den had slowly burned down, last flames clinging to puddles of wax, and your cheeks were aglow with the hue of the bruised rose petals littering the floor. Wine-stained lips, luminous eyes, soft, warm hands…you were eclipsing Raphael’s mind in a way he could never have prepared for, and he felt that he had to put some distance between you, reclaim some semblance of control, remind you who you were dealing with, what your purpose was.

You were a means to an end, nothing more, nothing less.

“While I have you here, what say we revisit your contract?” He suggested, summoning the dreaded parchment with a snap of his fingers. At the sight of it your expression immediately contorted into a displeased frown.

“I said no business.” You reminded him, barely able to bring yourself to look at the contract, giving it disgusted sort of side glances as it floated ominously in the air before you.

“Then why are you here, little mouse?” Raphael asked mildly, watching you with a mix of curiosity and slight frustration. You were about to respond with something no doubt distasteful when a line on the contract caught your eye.

“Hold on, what’s this…” You grasped the parchment, eyes scanning the Infernal symbols written in a diabolically small font, so small you had to bring it right up close to your face to stand a chance of reading it, the meaning of the glyphs coming easily to you, easier than they had done in Astarion’s tent when you had translated some of his scars. “Clause eleven, subsection a: ‘Fulfilment of the details of this contract does not equate to its end. If able and willing, The Beneficiary agrees to provide ad-hoc services to The Benefactor for the remainder of their mortal life as and when called upon, including but not limited to provisioning of intelligence, participation in battle, and personal protection services.’ What the fuck…” Your eyes continued scanning the contract, finding numerous sneaky subclauses littered amongst the previously discussed terms that would ensure you would be tied to the devil in some way, shape, or form for years to come, yet there was nothing about providing you or those important to you the protection he had implied he would give.

Then there were the lines concerning your soul. It seemed any violation of any term, no matter how small, would result in you surrendering it to the devil for him to have his way with, a situation that looked more likely than not. As far as you were aware, he had only mentioned your soul as collateral if you signed the deal yet failed to deliver the crown, not if, in say twenty years, you failed to report some scheme you became aware of to overthrow him.

It was what you had known was coming the entire time, what you had been dreading; waiting for the other shoe to drop. It all came crashing down in dazzling clarity; his extracurricular activities with other clients, everything that Karlach and Wyll had said, even his infuriating victory earlier. You may have lost one game of lanceboard tonight, but you would be damned to lose another, you decided.

Raphael had not expected you to be able to understand the contract at all, sat dumbstruck as you made sense of a language he had no idea you could speak, and felt his simmering blood almost run cold as the situation dawned on him, enraged by his own carelessness. Pure, unadulterated anger fell across your face before he could try to placate you, convince you that this was what he had wanted to discuss, that he wanted your input on the specifics, that this was just a standard template that needed tailoring to your situation, which was not entirely dishonest.

You stood from your chair suddenly, surprisingly steady on your feet given the strength of the multiple bottles of wine you had both drunk, and stalked across the room to place some distance between you, abandoning the contract on the table.

“I can’t believe this! Just when I was starting to think you…that you might…”

Raphael stood to take a few tentative steps towards you, afraid (but of what?), half-reaching for you as you attempted to gather your composure, your temper hot and palpable in the dwindling light of day.

“Dear mouse, allow me to explain—”

“I don’t want to hear it! I’ve had enough of this, giving you the benefit of the doubt, thinking you were actually not all bad, thinking that we were somehow even. Fuck,” you laughed, a sound entirely devoid of amusement, “I actually thought you cared about me for a moment there. I’m so fucking stupid!” You brought your hands up to cover your face, scared that you might cry if you did not laugh, and you would not allow yourself to cry in front of him.

“You are many things, but stupid is not one of them. Please, you must listen—” Raphael felt his breath leave his body as your hands suddenly grasped his collar tightly and your body collided with his, pushing him back to stumble into a seat on the edge of the bed, yanking him down to beneath your eye level, a silent threat held in the tempest of your face.

“Shut. Up.” He dared not move, nor breathe too heavily should he enrage you further. He tried to think of a way to recover the situation, but could only conjure sweet words that would just fall on deaf ears and only escalate things even more. He had made a grave error with the contract, and the likelihood of seeing your lovely signature on the bottom of it had dwindled to near zero.

Fool! Why didn’t you remove those terms before?

Before he could say anything, you did something so outrageously unexpected that, at first, he wondered if he had fallen asleep at some point during the evening and was instead having a very vivid dream. You kissed him, hard.

Your lips came crashing against his, hungry, desperate, yearning, and he hesitated for just a moment before he kissed you back with the same burning passion, savouring the way your lips slotted so perfectly against his, how soft they were, how eager. His hands quickly grasped your hips, pulling you closer and down into his waiting lap whilst your hands snaked into his hair, nails grazing his scalp in a way that felt heavenly and sent goosebumps rising across his shoulders. The inside of your legs pressed against the outside of his thighs, and he unashamedly pulled you down harder as he lifted his hips to grind against you, letting you know exactly how much he needed you, how much he had wanted you, all this time.

With a tug on his hair and a well-timed burst of friction where your bodies met, you were actually able to draw out a moan from his mouth, a noise he was immediately ashamed by. He did not think on it for too long, though, now only concerned with ridding you of your clothes, but before he could even try you seemed to come to your senses for a moment, ripping yourself away from him and retreating a couple of feet, chest heaving, mouth parted, and eyes wild with a hundred different emotions, namely contempt.

In that moment, Raphael could swear you looked more devilish than himself, but Gods did you look a vision. You took a moment to devour the sight of him, shoulders rapidly rising and falling with the sudden need for breath, lips bruised and hair in disarray. Thighs slightly parted and eyes glassed over with unbridled lust. You had done that.

Shaking your head with a sigh you tried to gather your thoughts, interrupt the silence before he could speak first.

“Forget the deal, I won’t be signing it. If that concludes our business, we have no need to meet again. So, please, leave me alone from now, and I shall do the same.” You watched your words sink in, saw his eyes soften as his lips parted to say something. You did not let him. “Goodbye, Raphael.”

You turned to look out of the window somewhere far in the distance, and before he could utter a word you took a step enshrouded in mist and disappeared from the room, ending the conversation on your own terms for once.

The Devil’s Den fell silent save for the sound of Raphael’s own laboured breaths, the rustle of bed sheets as he shifted against them, the deep, hollow sigh that spilled from his lungs as he watched the space you had occupied moments before. Full of shame and defeat, he hung his head in resignation, the ghost of your lips against his just shy of torturous, the aching familiarity of it muddling his already clouded mind. Behind the taste of berries in the wine that lingered on your tongue, there had been something else, something seraphic that unhooked the latch on a harrowing pain Raphael had kept tightly sealed deep within the farthest shadows of his being. He tried to force it back shut, will it to subside, to spare him, but he sensed it was too late.

You had won this round, and he was not sure there would be another. As the coldness of the night drew in, room now void of your warmth, he wallowed in his defeat, bitter and sore. He shook his head, muttering into the silence.

“Touché, little mouse.”

[hxdonist]

.::. WHAT WAS CONSUMED OF ME? .::. cyberware.txt

Playing too free and loose with the net has its pitfalls, and Ikarus is well aware of them. Given his first neural uplink in a shady operation at little more than fifteen years old, his still-growing body regularly experienced damage from the electrical impulses often deployed against those picking around where they don't belong- and mental strain endured while netrunning, a close call frying the connections between his mind and his own right hand in his late teens- it was on his mother's recommendation that he replaced it, instead of seeking therapy or perhaps retiring for a short time from his dives into the depths of code for a time to let those connections slowly filter back in.

An Ichibangase/Eisher produced implant Ikarus' right arm is top of the line- installed in his teens and upgraded as Ikarus himself grew into a man, it's been largely the same since his youth, with exception of additional, improved weapon suites and stealth modifications made after-market to ensure that he is never left unarmed so to speak. Bearing pointed, razor-sharp claws cleverly hidden in the paneling of his more 'human' hand, the points remain precise and capable, able to manipulate even the smallest computer chips even with them exposed- though given their lack of sensation- Ikarus tends to prefer to use the touch-feedback sensitive fingers of the 'standard' hand. The flowing arcs of red light and electricity that shift like muscles beneath a hard outer shell are the single indication that the implant contains a railgun- grounded through the additional metal implanted within Ikarus' body after years of net diving, it can muster exactly five high powered, nigh-unstoppable by anything short of electromagnetic shielding shots before requiring a relatively lengthy recharge period of 30 minutes for an additional round, unless overclocked to strip power from elsewhere in his body.

His interfaces are more difficult to place, and are only at their most obvious when under the guise of 1NF1N1T3FUN, a helmet aping the image of a fox's head and face with projectors to display eight eyes over its scrawny, seemingly rotting visage, this headware is intended to mitigate and lighten the load he takes on while in the chair, and hide his identity in holos put out with NANO ZILLA's demands, or ransoms over information. lit in a harsh red and machined to match perfectly with his already installed port and the pre-existing damage to his body, it is comfortable enough to remain hidden beneath as long as he might require it- as only those who have earned his trust in his crew have seen him without it.

all internal interfaces, however, are starting to show their age. the operation to install his neural port was botched- 'overclocking' his connections if he's not careful- or mitigating with his helmet when wired in, he risks the loss of more than just his neck-to-right-shoulder connection- that expanse of his upper body- and some of his back and spine- mapped in sprawling carbon, chrome, and dancing red electricity. This too, is a secret, regularly wearing turtlenecks and long-sleeves to hide the bulk of his damage, in an effort to avoid looking weak, or perhaps, worrying his people. His on-board chipset, used for on-the fly hacking, scanning, and day-to-day business a phone might have previously filled the space of is a decidedly early model, jailbroken and regularly updated with the required work-arounds for modern technology- it works slowly, but effectively- many chromed-up cowboys unable to give chase as Ikarus makes a slow, lazy retreat unfettered by smart weapons or speed-enhanced limbs, quieted by anesthesia in code. . .

[jades-typurriter]

Mori's Mementos

A little fic about a day in the life of a friend's shrinekeeper OC! He's a real cutie and @bluebearial is a real sweetheart and you should check them out <3

“MMMMMRRAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhh,” yawned a young tanuki, followed by a little hmm! as he stretched and set his paws on his hips. The early morning sun broke through the boughs of the trees surrounding the clearing in which he stood, and he looked around at the work he’d have to do today. The leaves were starting to turn brown again, and many had piled up around the shrine he called home. Sweeping was on the list, then! Nothing else immediately seemed broken or dirty, so he’d start with that and figure it out from there. He looked behind him at the centerpiece of the shrine. It was an ornately-carved, if worn, statue of a large fox, wizened with age, each of its nine tails pluming out behind it. It was said to be very powerful, as all foxes became as they grew older, and this particular fox used that power to keep a vigil over the shrine and the mountain upon which it stood.

As he admired the visage of his patron, Mori realized that his backside hadn’t fully materialized yet. Silly him! He hadn’t walked all the way out of the statue. He shimmied down the steps, and his own spectral tails emerged from the statue in which he dwelled. He rustled them like he was shaking out a bad case of bed-headed hair. He was no kitsune, but he was proud that his own tails numbered at nine! It was nice to be similar to such a respected figure, even in such a small way.

See, this shrine hadn't been erected in the honor of any old kitsune, no–Mori was the shrine maiden (Shrine-mister? Shrine-manservant? He had no clue) of a zenko, a spirit who bestowed supernatural gifts upon those who also called this mountain home. An older visitor to the shrine had once told Mori that it was much busier, in the past. People came more frequently to make offerings to the zenko, and some even helped maintain the statue, the torii that lined the edges of the clearing, and the buildings that stood within it.

Mori trotted over to a storage shed in the corner of the clearing to fetch a broom, then scurried back to the statue. Side to side, he brushed leaves from the steps, making neat piles at the corners of the statue’s platform. Later, he’d find a sack from the shed and carry the leaves to the outskirts of the clearing; he was sure the trees would appreciate the extra food, even if it was sort of their own leftovers! As he worked, his tails flicked and flitted about his head, knocking leaves from atop the statue and scrubbing away any bits of moss that had settled since the last time he’d cleaned it.

“Older visitor” and “young tanuki” were relative terms for Mori; he never ventured far from the shrine, and certainly never to another settlement, so he’d never been taught to keep time. Still, as he worked, he wondered how long it had been since someone had made a pilgrimage here. The leaves had fallen like this more than once since then, he was fairly sure. He was used to the solitude–he had been there for as long as he could remember, and besides, the quiet gave him plenty of time to enjoy the constant chorus of nature’s voices.

But he was still just!! So EXCITED, whenever someone came to pay their respects to the zenko. They always came seeking some sort of boon, and though he had never met the kami himself–he had never even seen anything supernatural!–it was a joy to make the visitors feel welcome, and to do what he could to help them solve their problems. At the very least, he could give them some false confidence, and then they would go face down their challenges themselves, right? Gah, he had made himself miss having visitors again. Well, he was done sweeping the steps anyway, so now he had time to look through his collection! He nearly sprinted back to the shed, stopping only when he rammed the broom into the wall. Sure, he could pass through the wood just fine, but the broom? It was so easy to forget, he would run into it nearly as often as the forest’s deer ran into his laundry lines!

With the broom stowed, he traipsed along the foot-worn rut in the grass that led from the shrine to a nearby stream. Of all the sounds that the woods provided, the bubbling of this little river was one of the ones that made him feel most at peace. He stood on the bank, letting the wind blow around him, savoring the mingling of nature’s noises; it blew through his shoulder-trimmed hair and made his robes sway on his fluffy frame. Remembering himself, he filled a bucket of water from the river and hurried back.

As he neared another building, opposite the statue from the shed, his tails scooped up a bundle of leaves from one of the piles he had tidied them into earlier, as well as a few thick sticks from a stack near the door. Once inside the building–barely even a house, more like a parlor standing by itself in the clearing–he fished around in a cabinet for a sachet of tea leaves while his tails set to work arranging everything else. A third coiled around a teapot from a nearby table; a fourth set a metal stand upright above a small fire pit, and the first two unloaded their burdens beneath it. Satisfied with his choice of drink, he turned and snapped his paw, summoning a little wisp of fire and sending it drifting gently onto the pile of kindling. He set the teapot atop the stand, filled it with water from the bucket, and sprinkled in the tea leaves; then, as he left it to steep, he turned to a shelf to paw through some of the offerings that had been left at the shrine.

Most of the visitors recently were people who tended to go far out of their way. Some of them were artists, traveling painters or poets seeking inspiration in the far corners of the world–and Mori supposed that the side of a mountain was a reasonably far corner. Some were on religious journeys, secluding themselves to find the space to come to their own epiphanies, or seeking knowledge to bring home with them to their own shrines. Some of them were just plain desperate, and hoped that the aid of the zenko could save them (for these people, Mori did his best in their stead). No matter their reason for making the trek up to the shrine, they all brought some kind of offering, and Mori had kept a few of his favorites (he justified them as “adornments for the shrine”)!

The artists often left one of their works, or crafted something new specifically to mark the occasion of their visit. There were watercolor paintings of the vista from the mountain’s summit, or little wooden trinkets carved in the shape of the local animals–Mori’s favorite was a little whittled raccoon, which the donor had said reminded them of him. One particularly ambitious pilgrim wanted to leave their mark on the shrine itself, and felled a number of trees to erect a brand-new torii!

Visitors from other shrines, or from larger temples, often brought religious tokens; some of them, Mori recognized, and others were completely foreign. There was a lavish little stockpile of incense in one of the cabinets; on the wall was an ofuda, inked by a calligrapher’s steady hand, meant to ward off disaster from the shrine. He wasn’t sure whether it was appropriate to keep one within the shrine’s confines–ofuda were generally meant to protect homes, but even if he dwelled within the statue of his patron, this little tea room was something of a home for him. The torii gates were plastered with slips of paper bearing the names of visitors, offerings made simply to mark that they had been there. Hanging on the wall were a few paper pouches, bound together by string. The person who had offered them to the tanuki called them omamori. Both of them found the coincidence funny, and Mori had happily accepted them. He was told that, if he carried one with him wherever he went, they would shield him from the interference of mischievous spirits, but he had never had a run-in with a spirit anyway, and they unsettled him for a reason he couldn’t place, so on the wall they stayed.

His favorite offerings were from the poets, the authors, and those who wanted to document as much of the world as they could. While their original compositions were lovely–he could reflect on a haiku celebrating some facet of the mountainous landscape as easily as he could admire a painting–his favorites were the descriptions of the way the shrine was run. He thought of them almost like letters to the zenko, letting them know how good of a job he was doing at maintaining their home and solving the problems of their devotees in their stead. He pulled a piece of paper from a sheaf on a shelf:

…I journeyed up the mountain after being turned away by doctor after doctor–no matter how far I traveled, no matter what medicine I tried, I could not escape the feeling of my own impending doom, seemingly waiting for me around every corner. Eventually, I resigned myself: I thought that my ruin must be the will of the kami, and so I began to plead for aid at shrine after shrine instead. After months of wandering, visiting every last temple and holy place I could find, lead me here: Mori greeted me, and led me to the foot of the statue, where I petitioned the zenko for reprieve from my sentence, forgiveness for whatever transgression I had committed. The kitsune assigned the shrine-keeper (oh, right, that seemed to be the word!) to assist me in my plight.

He grinned at me, and their tails rose from their rest behind them, posturing like vipers. Though his smile was as innocent, and his bearing as devout, as when I had first stepped onto the hallowed ground, I thought that he meant to strike me. Instead of fleeing, I stayed on my knees, where I had been praying–I was too exhausted to continue running, and surely if the zenko saw fit to execute me on the spot, I was deserving of whatever punishment I was to endure.

Instead, when his tails sprang forward, I was swaddled in a soft embrace. Some of them cradled me from beneath, like a pile of blunt, velvet-lined pillows; the rest blanketed themselves atop me, blotting out the bright light of the sun and leaving me in something of a cocoon. The tanuki reassured me, told me that “getting comfortable” and “taking some time to relax” might assuage my fears; before I could protest that, believe me, I had TRIED that, the tails began to close in more tightly. His fur brushed up against every bit of exposed skin, and despite the oddness of the situation, I found myself leaning into their touch–more calming than a lover’s arms, more sheltering than any blanket. They tangled so tightly, in such a convoluted knot, that soon enough I could no longer tell where one tail ended and another began. I could no longer tell where I ended and the tails began! It was as though I had lost awareness of my own body, its sensations replaced with the gentle sensation of fur rustling in the wind.

The tanuki spoke to me again, and although I could understand his words perfectly clearly, I understood his intent on a level more direct than words could ever convey. I could tell I wasn’t going to be harmed, even if I stayed that way for a long while. And stay for a while I did: I joined the tanuki, for some time, in his daily routine around the shrine. Now ten-tailed, we completed his chores together, and I pitched in after some practice with controlling my share of his form. When he meditated, I meditated, joining him at some of his favorite hideaways in contemplation of the beauty of the mountain. When he slumbered, I slumbered; a straw mat in a shed had never felt so comfortable, and for the first time in ages, I awoke not from a nightmare, but was roused by the warmth of a sunbeam. 

When finally we separated, I felt more refreshed than I ever had. Finally, my eyes were turned to the horizon without the fear of what I might find beyond it. I was left with a tail of my own, like one of the tanuki’s, but smaller, rounder. He told me that it would be a reminder of our time together, something to hold when I felt I needed reassurance. It is a blessing I will treasure forever, and–

FfffweeeeEEEEEEEEEEEE–

Oh! The teapot! He had been so absorbed in this lovely little reminder that he’d forgotten how thirsty he’d gotten.

“Hello?” carried a voice over the grass of the clearing. “I see smoke in your window, and hear a kettle on the hearth. I come seeking the zenko of this shrine.”

A visitor!! And Mori was so missing company after all that reminiscing… Well, his patron wasn’t really here, but he could still give this traveler in need what they wanted! He vanished, crossing the gap between his tea room and the statue as a mere flicker of light, planting himself behind the statue and out of sight of the visitor. Reappearing, he drew in a deep breath, and kept right on huffing, willing himself bigger, even bigger,until he was as big as the statue! With a puff of smoke, he changed his appearance to match that of his mentor, and he strode with all their confidence out into view. He may not be a magical, boon-granting spirit, but he was always happy to help–and to make a new friend!

[mwolf0epsilon]

The Grim Reaper Wears Furs

Summary: Fox's newly found inquisitive nature leads him to ask a question that really is none of his business.

[THIS STORY IS NOW ON AO3]

---

"Why a loth-cat?" The question slips out without much thought. It's been a slow kind of day, slower than Fox is used to, but ultimately not unpleasant. He's been watching the clouds rolling by while resting in his hammock. The datapad he'd been reading long since forgotten.

"Why not?" The Ferryman asks as they perch up on the roof. Sprawled like the cat they usually look like, appreciating the sunlight and calm breeze.

In truth, Fox doesn't know why he's asking. It's really none of his business what the grim reaper chooses to look like.

But he's had these encounters on and off with the Ferryman of Epifania, and a clever Fox he may be but curiosity was a driving force that had slowly been settling upon his weary bones as of late.

In his not so old age he'd become oddly nosy it seemed. The oddities of surviving a war.

"It just seems strange to me that a cat would be a form something of your... Caliber... Would choose to look like most of the time..." It's a tentative excuse but not quite the answer for why he's asking at all. Ah well, he's sure whatever he'll get will sate his piqued interest. Or worsen the thirst.

"Hm, well... They're clever animals. Attuned to the Force like their counterparts, the wolves of Lothal..." Sharp tipped claws tap a borrowed fuzzy chin. Had they not solid black eyes Fox was sure the Ferryman would be crossed-eyed in dizzying thought. "Some go so far to call them secondary spiritual guides. An appropriate disguise..."

"Uh-huh..." He hums, noting the reasons down and setting them in their own neat little mental boxes. Force Osik then. A fitting disguise indeed.

"They are also... Approachable. Friendly looking. Not something to be afraid of..." For a second, their dual tone sounds saddened. Lonesome even. "Those who look upon the face of a smiling cat do not feel reason to fear... At least not at first. But I've taken more guises than just that of a cat, surely you must know this by now?"

Fox does. He's made peace that whenever the Ferryman shows up to check up on his progress, he'll be talking to a long dead vod. The voice and certain aspects of their appearance is never quite right, but the Ferryman does them more justice in remembering them than the (Republic) Empire ever did.

No one cared for clones.

For some reason, this powerful being did.

"I've worn many appearances of multiple animals and people, some friendly and some not so friendly." The Ferryman muses. "A loth-cat with a stubby tail, a spotted massiff with intelligent demeanor, a loth-wolf with void-like eyes and angry bared teeth, a child that never got to grow up, an elderly sentient that saw too much, visages of pure terror or shapes of simple hopes..."

The broken clone listens quietly, curiously, and wonders how it must be like to be so much and yet prefer so little. Contemplates things he's likely never going to fully understand. Mostly it seems like a tragedy of an existence.

"Sometimes I try to remember what I used to look like... But I can never see who that person was. Cannot remember them." They sound lost, the Ferryman of the Dead sounds lost. "They've been forgotten. Only the old name remains, and even that is not the name I was born with I'm sure..."

They remembered others but not themselves. Not the person that they'd been originally born as. A tragedy indeed.

"For what it's worth... I like you better as a cat." He opts to respond. The startled laugh he gets in return lightens the mood.

Not long after, Fox finds himself back to staring at the clouds while a stubby-tailed loth-cat lays curled up on top of his stomach. Purring away without a care in the galaxy.

There's no need to complicate things any further. He's taking it slow for today. Just as he promised he'd try.

[mumblztumblz]

TPOF: Lifeblood CW: Non-Con, Sad Ending, Fate Worse Than Death, Blood, Seizure, Slavery Ren Hana belongs to @gatobob , Tobby belongs to @6robotmonster6

The “Cleaner Boy” was nervously sat in the spacious basement, goons by his side and fingerless-gloved hands cuffed to a bolted-down chair. His clothes were a stylish ensemble, with a black hoodie with “EA 34” written on it in white lettering, Black jeans and black sneakers with white Velcro straps.

For a low-ranking staff member, he was gorgeous, with his apparently natural white hair, deep blue eyes and nigh perfect, pink-ish complexion that never seemed to lose it’s luster, even while beaten or bent over a railing.

All facts that have not gone unnoticed by the head of the foggy household in the middle nowhere, whom he just heard coming down, dress shoes clattering against the wooden stairs.

The cleaner nervously stamped his right heel at Mr.Hana’s approach, trying to think of anything to say that won’t sound daft, shoving away the thought that this was truly the end for him. Kidnapped from a single mother who is no doubt in unimaginable grief, declared “Too hot to sell” and forced to be a glorified maid and corpse-cleaner for a sentient trafficker continents from home.

The man before him was shorter than him by about eight inches yet was making him quake with presence and knowledge of him alone. What he did on his streams, the results of what he had to clean up and the frequent raping and sometimes torture of some of the other staff.

And now that it was finally his turn, he was tearing up and sobbing already, yet nothing had been done to him.

The gray-haired, middle-aged man with fox ears and tail entered the basement with that grin, that fuck-damned grin. If there were demons, and he'd bet pretty good money on it, this is the expression one would have.

“M-mister Hana, what seems to be the-“ Before he could speak, Tobby, the goon to his left held a knife to his throat in a flash.

The short, aged and red-headed man stepped closer, his usual suit jacket and trilby momentarily discarded for this "session". “Oh my sweet Mumbles. You plus my drugs equals the problem!” Hana kept everyone, even the aforementioned Tobby, his right hand effectively, high on super-addictive designer crap as a guarantee of loyalty.

Yet…Mumbles didn’t seem to take to it, at all. Sure, he wasn’t much of a fighter and complied with almost no need for a collar once he learned where he was, but this fact stuck in the back of Hana’s mind for awhile, and he was too busy with slavery to address it...

...Until now.

Mumbles did not have anything to say, because it was true, he did not feel anything upon injecting the weird, cum-textured substance into himself, he even got around to stockpiling syringes to trade with the other workers.

“I have seen you take it, but not take to it, so I decided to do a little experiment.” He set down the briefcase in his right hand and opened it, Taking out three of the well-familiar syringes.

“Which arm?”

“L-left!”

“Toe-Beans, roll up his sleeve.”

The Kitsune-masked bobcat with the brown and teal bobcut did as ordered without protest, while the gray-ginger haired fox man walked over, pausing a bit to savour the terrified misery of his worker, a tent visibly forming in his slacks as his wrinkled, demonic visage leaned extremely close toward the exotic human, tongue coming out and licking up the moist snot and tears from the t-boy, swallowing all of them.

Mumbles went from sobbing to paralyzed at this as Mr.Hana leaned away only to launch into a forced, French kiss, the misery tasting tongue wriggling inside his throat like some hellish beast while tears continued streaming down and eyes went agape.

The older man pulled back again. Immediately finding and pressing one of the syringes into a vein while continuing to make eye contact, the young worker screaming in pain as he had neither time nor willpower to relax his limbs.

“Say, never got to ask how old you are….”

“Twenty-Five, wh-what’s it matter?”

“Mmm…twenty-five with that face and body…should’ve asked these two to strip you nude but oh well…” The youngster’s face still had the best features of his old self, next to no body hair below the neck and killer legs that would make certain fetishists scream with joy.

As the substance slid into his veins, the two guards looked at the injection with concealed thirst under their masks.

Ren removed the needle and waited a bit for any change, of which there did not seem to be any.

“Hmm...” He quickly set about jabbing the second needle and observing the results.

This time, both could notice something. Mumbles started to feel a sudden rush of dizziness, like he speed-ran being spun rapidly in a circle, letting out a gagging noise while his head slumped and the world around shook and distorted to unrecognizabillity, arms and legs twitching on muscle impulse more than any self-control.

“Mmm. Getting somewhere, though not in the way intended.” With a gesture to Tobby to hold the left arm the firmest, the third one quickly went in.

Suddenly, the human boy lost consciousness, body seizing up as his eyes rolled back and a mixture of foam and blood-coated projectile vomit came pouring out of his mouth, which Mr.Hana knew well from his past victims to dodge.

When he came to, he found himself in a Haze, feeling his clothes missing, front penetrated and a distorted vision of what looked like a nude Mister Hana thrusting into him, blood from his fanged mouth and that same thrice-damned expression starting to take shape.

It was then he noticed…Mr.Hana looked younger, more spry, wrinkles and gray hair apparently receding before his eyes.

Then… his attention turned to a bloody bite-mark on his shoulder, quickly putting two and two together as the mental fog rapidly receded and his violation became apparent.

Then, his t-dick suddenly stung from an unwilling climax, pushing Hana over the edge also, emptying out a large load of fox spunk in his hapless victim.

The beast in vaguely human form loomed over him, blood dripping on the beautifully toned, flat chest of the t-boy amidst afterglow, letting out a few more thrusts and grunts to relish the sensation, his pupils slitted and irises glowing golden.

Once it receded, Mumbles lay there in shackes while Ren rolled over and shouted. “Tobby! Get me some empty needles!”

What followed was the two taking turns draining blood from the human’s veins and squirting it in each others' veins and mouths' alike, aging and scars receding until they themselves returned to an unmarred, young adult state while the hemoglobin fountain of youth passed out again, speechless throughout.

When he awoke the second time, he wished he had never done so, ever again.

He could not move or even scream, only move his eyes as he found himself hooked up, Vitruvian man position to some form of machinery with dozens of tubes in his nude body, managing everything from feeding to waste disposal, several, equally handsome others to his side in the same horrific state, their Lifeblood being systemically drained from them into openings in the ceiling, no doubt to be sold on a black market.

He could not scream, not even muffled, from the tube in his esophagus and as the reality set in fully, his tears began to run harder than they ever did, for this was his life now, indefinitely

THE END

[containatrocity]

the prodigial son and only heir to the Chiyoda tech fortune, some claim Silas Chiyoda is something of a messiah, beckoning in a new era of tech advancement and a future something like a utopia- the Japan-Born Silicon Valley transplant claims he's a herald- but not of a golden age.

Cover Story By Milena Corbin, November 2018

It's a clean white mansion that greets the taxi that drops me off, modern and sleek with a family crest emblazoned on the gates. It's one of the many summer homes of Aoi Chiyoda, the owner and figurehead of tech powerhouse Chi-Hyu Technology, but it's not the 48 year old CEO and mastermind that I'm here to meet, and that much is made clear when my interviewee steps out of the house. He is asynchronous to the house that built him, dressed in black from head to toe with long dark hair pulled into a bun, struck through with pins bearing the visages of Japanese fox spirits, matching the dragons and koi swirling across his arms. Where Aoi demanded sleek, clean, chrome lines and white, granite blocks, his son perhaps has embraced the visual context of being a black sheep- something that tabloids have painted his history with since the now 22 year old was little more than a child.

A recluse of few words outside of parties and public appearances, Silas Chiyoda's position as a 'nepotism baby' is one he's acknowledged time and again, his vehement refusal to be someone people look up to often punctuated by lengthy, angry tirades on twitter- and typically- refusal to speak with the press. But today, he motions for me to follow him inside, past perfect marble floors and gold-inlaid furniture, to something that more correctly fits the man himself.

He makes himself at home in a beanbag chair under blacklight and neon, a bay of computers and monitors spread across one wall- a pile of schematics that he quickly hides on an opposite desk. It's only after the mouthpiece of a hookah pipe is hooked into the corner of his mouth that he allows me to speak to him at all, motioning one ring clad, dark-painted set of fingers as if to encourage me to 'get on with it'.

"I'd like to thank you, Mr. Chiyoda for taking the time out of your day to speak with us, from what I understand, you don't tend to like to speak to the press."

"I don't like to talk to tabloids. Given that you're here to talk about my work, I can make exceptions- I'm only 'famous' because of who my mother is, only rich because of my father. This focuses on the things I do that I actually care about."

"Yes, you and your father recently collaborated on an updated chipset for phones and computers that allows for more seamless communication between multiple devices, was this something important for you to achieve within the current space for smart devices?"

"Collaborated is quite the word for it- but yes, the chip I designed and we're seeking production on is intended to be upgradable for several years, eliminating a substantial amount of tech-waste in the industry, and allowing for less incidents with the strangely... quick obsolescence that comes from a lot of companies today- iPhone, Android, Windows- they'll all be using some form of our architecture, which will allow repair shops to work in a more comfortable, less proprietary space. A phone a year isn't sustainable for most people- this slows down the feeling that one has to update the moment a new piece of hardware releases, and simply requires a replacement chip."

"You seem very passionate about this, was it your father who got you invested in technology?"

"My father named me after his first ever operating system, the NEON. It was less that he shared an interest with me, and more that it was the one way to get him to pay any attention to me- now, of course, the eyes on me tend to be pretty set on watching me fuck up, including my father's- but I'm still rich, I'm still a genius, and most of my detractors will die drowning in student loan debt or forgotten by the annuls of time. Bad press is press nonetheless, and in some part I'm thankful for the distraction from my actual work, it's allowed me to kinda, control where my ideas and innovation go without people trying to throw money to me to make it theirs and theirs alone."

"So you want this to be available to as many people as possible?"

"I want my work to bury the bullshit that society's been barreling toward. Planned obsolescence, government surveillance, copyright claims burying hobbyists alive. I want to do one thing that slows the cogs down before the teeth tear themselves off and leave us grinding to a halt. Innovating only for the sake of money is destroying the planet, our rights to privacy, our ability to create- People insist that what my father does is the future, the way he pushes out the next big thing every quarter for another drop in the billion dollar bucket. I want it slowed down. We should perfect what we understand before inviting more ghosts into the system."

"So this isn't about reaching for the future for you, but suspending things in the now a little longer?"

"Think about it this way. Everyone who's ever lined up to kiss my ass on social media thinks I'm some kind of wizard, some cave-dweller with a thousand-point IQ and the ability to grant their wishes, but these assholes don't need an AI girlfriend who can interface with their smart kitchen, they need to get off their asses and learn a fucking skill for once in their lives. We are so hell bent on getting to the 'utopian future' that we've been promised we're ignoring the way we're sliding toward the other option. There are weaknesses in every system, and the more we try to make new systems, the more gaping holes are left behind- this is a bandaid on the hull of a sinking ship, and as soon as it comes crumbling down, the only people who are gonna take the blame are the people who don't deserve it. So let me state this simply: when we hit the point that makes Y2K's fearmongering look pitiful in comparison, it'll be on the head of my contemporaries, my father, and his boardroom of yes men. But not me. And not the people who inevitably work out how to hack your car, when you buy the Night Rider the second she rolls off the lot."

He's harsh and set in his ways, and the way he talks about technology, not like a blessing but a devil deal he's made and is now struggling to understand, is commonplace in his few public speaking appearances- something that's likely led to his father keeping his connection to Chi-Hyu rather hush hush- or his volatile public image, fraught with arrests, addiction, cycles in rehab, and highly publicized feuds with former girlfriends- many of them famous in their own regard, most recently seen paired off with the lead actress of Blood Ties- only to be arrested at her LA apartment after a domestic dispute ended in shots fired- Keeping him behind the scenes of a company reliant on the clinical white image of the mansion he's chosen to take this interview in. His stipulations for agreeing, of course, that I couldn't ask about the cycle of arrests and bail outs, about the girlfriends met in rehab easily twice his age- about his public fight with his father, the purple-gray scar on the side of his neck already covered up with a new tattoo of Eve's hands reaching for the apple of knowledge.

"Many people have stated that your father is going to usher in a golden era, technology pushed to its limits, it sounds a lot like you aren't in agreement."

"What good's a golden era for only the 1%? I could press a button and have a german sports car delivered to my garage. There are people on the sidewalks outside the high-end clothing stores I buy my wardrobe from begging for change to afford dinner, much less a house. We revolutionize. Fine. Surveillance will go to the richest. Corrupt industries will corrupt further, squeeze tighter for another drop of blood from a stone. My Father's a herald of something, but it's not a promised land. I'm a horseman of the apocalypse, a trumpeter signaling the end times, and nobody'll heed those warnings until it's too late- because for now I'm flashy and exciting, and my hard work gets you into a game of candy crush sooner. The future is now, you know? But it's gonna be a lot more Hal 9000 than people are willing to accept- my greatest sin is being honest about what me and all these other tech bro douchebags are up to- and being too smart for them to force me out of their boys clubs."

[love-archon]

A Poem For You

Fleeting romances in the court of the Raiden Shogun, whose reign stands eternally still...

Spring - 春

"In Naniwa Bay, now the flowers are blossoming. After lying dormant all winter, now the spring has come..."

-Wani of Baekje

• The old tales warn of kitsune: yokai that take on forms of handsome men and beautiful women to play tricks on the unsuspecting humans. When they are careless, however, their disguises slip, and one can see a tail or two poking out from under their robes.

• Or, in the case of your soldiers' archery instructor, Gorou, a pair of large, fluffy ears emerging from his hair.

• There are whispers of a general in the rebel army far in the mountains, who has the features of a fox spirit and the slyness to match. Thankfully, the army lacks valuable intel to proceed, and cannot move forward without the use of spies.

• You blink and, in a shimmer like dust on sun-baked earth, the ears are gone. The gentle afternoon breeze rustles the leaves, and he nocks his arrow and lets it fly.

• Perhaps you were simply imagining things?

• Gorou, who guides his trainees with a strong, reliable hand, steady as stone,

• Gorou, who splits arrows in half as they fly, vowing to protect you always,

• Gorou, who smiles fondly at you as you walk through the gardens of your estate, holding your parasol to veil you from the sun, would never betray you or the great shogun. Would he?

• One warm spring night, where the dew still drips from the sakura flowers, he sits with you on the rooftops. His round lazuli eyes meet yours, and he tells you, truthfully, that he'll be leaving soon. Won't you join him?

• Your heart stirs to agree, but you respond that you cannot abandon your duties to your family, or to the shogun. He looks disappointed, but gets up from his seat, telling you that he accepts your decision. “If you ever change your mind,” he begins, but stops when the look in your eyes makes it clear you can’t.

• But you didn't know that "soon" meant now.

• Papers stolen from your family's most secret rooms are rolled up in his hands. His plain clothes melt away to reveal the uniform of the rebel army. The foxlike ears you thought were a dream now rest on his head, clear as day. 

• Most striking of all, however, are the nine tails shimmering behind him- the mark of a fox spirit that’s accumulated centuries of magic.

• Your eyes can’t quite catch the way he leaves, and you’re not sure exactly when you became alone in the night with the flowers.

• Or if you’d imagined the saddened way he said goodbye.

Summer - 夏

"The spring has passed, and the summer comes again;

For the white robes are spread to dry on the Mount of Kaguyama."

-Empress Jitoh

• You do not know who keeps sending these letters, despite your best efforts. Only that they must be a refined noble of high status and excellent taste.

• Each cut of paper, beautifully bound, is dyed the right color to match the season. They are appropriately adorned with fresh sprigs of plants from the sender's garden, or tied with a luxurious ribbon of patterned silk. Lavish scents drift off the pages in a perfume that's sweet and light.

• Oh, and the words.

• The appearance of these gifts pale in comparison to the contents. The mysterious admirer has learned the alphabet borrowed from Liyue, and the complex brush strokes are applied with just the right deftness that each kanji character shines.

• Your beauty is eternal, they proclaim, like unmelting snow on summer mountains, and strikes the heart like a bolt of lightning. In your luminous eyes, the ideal of your god has been met- a thousand times over...

• As dizzyingly romantic as it is, one thing gives you pause, as you lift your own brush to write your reply.

• "Your god," it says. Not mine.

• Who would know the secret etiquette of the court so intimately, to the point that other suitors' letters paled in comparison... and not worship the immaculate Raiden Shogun, much less take an interest in you?

• Then you are sent in your clan head's place to deal with the troublesome Fatui that have slipped past your nation's defenses, and you find your answer then. Their leader wears the traditional attire of a traveling nobleman, and wields his weapon with aristocratic grace.

• His underlings fall rather quickly under your hand, but he himself is annoyingly persistent. He darts out of the way of your attacks, but it takes all your power to stop his from striking true.

• You do not get his name, only his face- fair and clean and luminous, with delicate features twisted in cruel amusement. 

• It’s a shame that you must marr it with your blade, but what can be done?

• Then, he glides past you, close enough to whisper in your ear, and completes the poem no one has seen but you. 

Autumn - 秋

"Even in the age of almighty gods unheard of;

The waters of Tatsuta are dyed in crimson red."

-Lord Ariwara-no-Narihira

• It is time for the great procession- an event of fanfare and decadence, where you and your family must travel from your ancestral home to the domain of the immortal shogun to display your wealth.

• Despite the excitement surrounding the occasion, you know quite well it is nothing more than a way to maintain control over the lords of Inazuma.

• But no expense must be spared if it means preserving your reputation. If it means that no other family dares question your wealth. Not in travel, not in housing arrangements, not in entertainment, not in the hired guards to protect you on your long and arduous journey.

• And so, after you pay the Kaedehara clan the exorbitant sum they demand, they give you twenty able-bodied samurai under their command... including Kazuha, their youngest son.

• The servant girls- and some of the boys- traveling with you blush when he passes, observing his lithe form and gentle eyes and striking, pale blond hair. One streak of red is visible there, calling to mind a sole maple leaf in autumn.

• Kazuha does not join in the other samurai's revelry. While they cheerfully indulge in the food and drink provided to them on the journey, and boast of their prowess when the time comes to fight bandits hiding on the path, he remains silent and alone, his eyes only on his collection of handwritten poems.

• (And, when you aren’t looking, they shyly flit to you before looking away.)

• In the end, however, Kazuha is the only one who actually bests a bandit in combat.

• Late at night, when the others are sleeping off the wine, large shadows flit past the trees. The bandit clans in the area thrive during this time, like hunters when beasts migrate in droves. They're confident that this traveling party will be easy prey.

• But one thief approaches too rashly, too quickly, and one crimson eye opens to meet him.

• Kazuha drifts from one opponent to another like a leaf falling from its branch, carried by strong winds. And yet, none of them can touch him. One after another, each man collapses with a sharp cry, only their silhouettes visible in the darkness. 

• In the morning, the traveling party awakens to see fifty-some criminals tied up and piled up in a heap, and bursts into laughter. As the other samurai are still hung over, it’s clear who was responsible for this.

• Yes, Kaedehara-kun is a wonderful samurai. Skillful, composed, brave. And an excellent companion to have by one’s side, if one is lucky enough to have met him.

• It was quite the shock to learn that he would later flee the islands, sailing onward to the Land of Contracts aboard the ship of a pirate lord.

• But if anyone had the strength of mind to defy the gods- wouldn’t it be him?

Winter - 冬

"In winter, the early mornings. It is beautiful indeed when snow has fallen during the night, but splendid too when the ground is white with frost..."

-Sei Shonagon

• Lady Ayaka is one of your closest friends, with your families being in a partnership for centuries. You have fond memories of playing together in the snow, with cranes flying overhead in the white sky.

• You know her secrets, and she knows yours. Nothing is kept between you- this is how you survive in a court of treachery and lies.

• So when she passes by in a sunlit hallway, you hear a whisper that shocks you to the core. Smooth silver hair floats past your sight, quiet as snow, and just as fleeting. But you must collect yourself quickly, for spies may lurk behind any silken screen.

• You will be betrothed to Kamisato Ayato, your dear friend's older brother, in ten day's time.

• As close as you are to Ayaka, Ayato has always been a shadow flitting in the corner of your sight, being too busy with his duties to see you. So his visage- to you- is as featureless as a field of snow.

• After all the romance novels you've read, it's difficult to accept marrying a man you've never spoken with, but... what can be done? You can only hope that Lord Ayato is kind and treats you well.

• But... what if he isn’t?

• Lady Ayaka would never speak ill of her brother. In fact, no noblewoman would even consider such a notion, even if it were true. Good appearances, on every level, are more important to nobles than gold. 

• But all the same, you’ve seen the ladies of the court who are trapped in loveless homes like birds in cages. How their smiles are painted on, how their laughs ring hollow and empty, how they glance longingly to the world outside, beyond the lavish court that hides them here.

• Your gaze drifts towards the harbor, where the water shimmers with light. You could run away, too. To the eastern mountains, where your former archery teacher hides with his fellow rebels- although to do that would invoke the shogun's wrath. Or, riskier still, follow Kazuha's path to the harbor, and chase him on to Liyue...

• “Young Lord Kamisato is waiting for you,” a servant says, breaking you from your thoughts, and bowing hastily before you can meet her eyes. The servant across from her does the same as the paper doors slide open, and they do not rise as you walk through.

• This room is airy and spacious, of course. Wind from opened windows seems to sigh as it passes over you and beyond, and you can smell flowers from the garden carried in from the breeze. How strange... even a garden that you played in countless times seems completely new and unfamiliar.

• Gracefully, soundlessly, Ayato emerges from behind his ornate screen. Power and elegance flows from his every movement. And at last, you dare to look at what you have never seen before.

• You look at his face, finally revealed before you, like translucent ice giving way to the land beneath the white...

• And gasp.

_______

Author's Notes

Wani of Baekje: Each opening quote is a poem by a famous Japanese author, but Wani was a scholar visiting from Ancient Korea!

Great procession: Known in Japan as sankin kotai. Powerful lords were forced to spend massive amounts of money to travel from their homes to the shogun's castle and back; in this way, the shogun was able to keep them on an efficiently tight leash.

[jewish-privilege]

(...)

I was a 12 years old when I was attacked by a mob of children and called "Christ killer" — the same age Jesus was, according to the Gospel of Luke, when he lingered in the Temple of Jerusalem and impressed the elders with his intellect — so this issue is undeniably personal. That wasn't the first or last time I was bullied for being Jewish, but it was the only time I nearly died because of it: Those kids held my head underwater, chanting, "Drown the Jew!"

This incident sprang back to mind  this month as Republicans tried to figure out what to do about Greene, a particularly obnoxious Christian right-winger who has suggested that a "space laser" affiliated with Jewish banking families caused the 2018 Camp Fire in California, expressed sympathy for the anti-Semitic QAnon fantasies, promoted a video that claimed Jews are trying to destroy Europe, posed for a picture with a Ku Klux Klan leader and liked a tweet linking Israel to the assassination of John F. Kennedy.

(...)

None of this is surprising for anyone who is familiar with the history of American anti-Semitism. Greene is not an aberration, some inexplicable pimple of hatred that blemishes the American right's otherwise Jew-friendly visage. The American right has long had an anti-Semitism problem, and she's just the latest symptom.

This history of hatred "tells us much more about the anti-Semite than it tells us about Jews," Dr. Jonathan Sarna, a professor of American Jewish history at Brandeis University, told Salon. After citing an Israeli historian who refers to anti-Semitism as a "cultural code," Sarna explained that beliefs that vilify Jews as malevolent plotters who secretly control the world have a long history in American political life. "These ideas, which I think many on the left frankly had thought were done and over with, we suddenly see them full blown," he said

Before the 19th century, Sarna explained Jews were stereotypically depicted as being cursed: They were "wandering Jews" for their supposed role in killing Jesus Christ. In the modern era, however, the stereotype emerged that Jews secretly controlled the world and were responsible for everything that a given anti-Semite might regard as sinister. During the Civil War, Gen. Ulysses S. Grant blamed the Jews for cotton smuggling and expelled the entire Jewish community from areas he controlled in Kentucky, Tennessee and Mississippi. When the populist movement arose to address agrarian economic concerns in the 1890s, Jewish bankers like the Rothschilds were a frequent target among ideological leaders like William Hope "Coin" Harvey.

(...)

There's a direct line between those conspiratorial fantasies ideas from previous decades and the anti-Semitic attacks of the 21st century. "Conspiratorial thinking, by its nature, argues that everything is connected," Sarna explained. "There are no coincidences and it eschews complexity. It believes there are simple explanations based on sinister individuals who are manipulating the universe. Unsurprisingly, in a Christian setting, those are Jews."

Those ideas can evolve — Sarna pointed out that the QAnon belief in a giant child abuse ring run by Jews is analogous to the "blood libel," the medieval myth that Jews used the blood of Christian children for rituals — but the underlying assumptions have been consistent. It just so happens that, in the modern right-wing incarnation, Donald Trump's cult-like following believes that "all the enemies of Mr. Trump are now child molesters."

(...)

[Jewish comedian Larry Charles] brought up community organizer and political theorist Saul Alinsky, a favorite target of the right. "He is almost like the devil in a way," Charles observed. "He's like this radical leftist Jew, he fits all the categories. He checks all the boxes."

"Shooting some of these movies, we would see reasonable people who have this blind spot," Charles said. "They have this crazy belief, and there were all different applications and manifestations of it, that the Jews control everything. That is like a mantra amongst a certain segment of the population."

(...)

With the election of Trump in 2016, those ingrained belief systems — which for many years had been kept outside the American political mainstream — became more prominent, and their adherents more emboldened. David Weissman, a military veteran and former conservative Republican who stopped being a self-described "Trump troll" after a 2018 conversation with comedian Sarah Silverman, told Salon about his encounters with anti-Semitism on the right.

Back when he still supported Trump, Weissman recalled, he got into a "little spat" with an alt-right commentator who calls himself Baked Alaska, who was recently arrested after the Jan. 6 Capitol riot. Ultimately they moved past it, Weissman said: "We both realized we were Trump supporters" who believed "Democrats were the bad guys." Once he left MAGA world, however, Weissman said "the anti-Semitism definitely escalated" in interactions with his former allies.

"When I became a Democrat, I was called 'the k-word'" and targeted by "anti-Semitic slurs and tropes," Weissman said. Trump supporters sent "memes of me being Jewish in the oven," and "put my name in parentheses," a common tactic used by the far right to target someone for being Jewish.

(...)

"Anti-Semitism certainly did not start with Marjorie Taylor Greene, nor did it start with Donald Trump, but we have seen an exponential increase in violent anti-Semitic incidents during Donald Trump's presidency," Halie Soifer, CEO of the Jewish Democratic Council of America, told Salon. "That is no doubt related to the fact that he emboldened and aligned himself with white nationalism." She mentioned Trump equating the neo-Nazis in Charlottesville with the peaceful protesters by "commenting that there were very fine people on both sides," refusing to denounce white nationalism and telling the right-wing Proud Boys during one of the campaign debates to "stand back and stand by."

"White nationalism had existed in our country prior to that, and anti-Semitism as an element of it, but white nationalists had never had an ally in the White House until Donald Trump," Soifer said.

(...)

Donald Trump's supposed pro-Israel policies were closely aligned with those of Benjamin Netanyahu, and did nothing to correct for Trump's history of anti-Semitic words and actions. He accused Jewish Democrats of "great disloyalty" toward Israel (feeding into the stereotype that Jews have dual loyalties), removed any specific reference to Jews from a 2017 State Department statement on Holocaust Remembrance Day and has frequently used anti-Semitic dogwhistle terms by opposing "globalists" and describing himself as a "nationalist." When I interviewed Charlotte Pence, the daughter of former Vice President Mike Pence, she talked about her family's love of Israel but refused to answer a question about whether she believes Jews are going to hell — or discuss the creepy messianic theories underpinning the Christian right's support for Israel.

When I asked Larry Charles whether, based on his experiences, there's an opportunity to build bridges with anti-Semites, he was skeptical. "I have not seen a lot of opportunities for bridge building in the situations that I've been in," Charles explained. "The people that I've met through Sacha [Baron Cohen] were very rigid and dogmatic in their prejudices. There was no crossing that gulf with them. There might be tolerance, temporarily. There might be patience, temporarily. But there's no changing that belief."

I hope that Charles is wrong but suspect he is right, which raises the question of how American Jews should react to the Marjorie Taylor Greenes of the world. For want of a better alternative, I think the only solution is to be intolerant toward intolerance. House Democrats were right to strip Greene of her committee assignments, but that is not nearly enough. Social media platforms like Facebook and Twitter need to do more to limit hate speech, even if conservatives cry foul in bad faith (the First Amendment only protects people from government censorship, not consequences from private corporations). Right-wing politicians who attack prominent Jews in ways that can be plausibly construed as anti-Semitic, or by denouncing "globalists," need to lose their funding. People who oppose anti-Semitism must lead boycotts against right-wing media figures who cover for people like Greene, such as Fox News' Sean Hannity.

On a broader level, critics of anti-Semitism must recognize that this form of bigotry is part of America's long history of hate — a history which holds that only white, straight Christian "manly" men have a right to rule — and recognize our responsibility to be allies to African Americans and the Latinx community, Muslims and the LGBT community, women suffering under the patriarchy and the poor struggling to make ends meet. If we limit our empathy merely to other Jews, the implicit message is not that systemic oppression is wrong, but only that we happen to dislike it when our group is targeted. The Jewish tradition at its best instills a moral responsibility to see all the layers of oppression, and align ourselves with its victims.

[Read Matthew Rozsa’s full piece in Salon]

[winterfollows]

@kxllerblond this is your fault

One half fucked up little meow meow (glamourless), one half sad YA fantasy love interest (glamoured)

picrew can be found here

[wolveria]

Crucible - Ch 5

Pairing: Link x Reader

Prompt: For the Bittersweet Mini Bang!

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, violence, mild body horror, lots of whump, angst with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: You struggle to adjust to travels with the Champion, suspicious and distrustful that his intentions weren’t as selfless as he made them out to be.

AO3

The Champion rode his horse like he did everything else: with a grace that bordered on arrogance. You were sure he didn’t realize it either, which made it even worse.

Your feet ached and blisters were forming on your heels. Perhaps that was why you were in such a foul mood. Doubtful. And now you were regretting not taking him up on his offer to ride, but you wouldn’t ask for help now. Pride was a thing you were learning you had plenty of, even if you were dressed in old rags and had been on the verge of starvation when the Hylian had found you.

Not that he needed to know that. The Champion had brought you enough trouble, and you were half-tempted to take him up on his other offer and just leave. Go back to your cave and your damp… what had he called it? An Ancient Shrine?

Frustration pressed down upon you, and not for the first time. Knowing things, but having no memories of them, no context with which to place them, was getting increasingly tiresome, and your mood plummeted as a result.

The Champion attempted to start conversations on more than one occasion, but you rarely responded, hoping he would wear himself out. But he never seemed deterred, and instead would list off the names of plants and animals you came across.

Here is the grassland fox. There goes a red-tusked boar. That gathering of trees would be a good place for sunshrooms and acorns left behind by the squirrels.

You didn’t know why he bothered, but you paid attention to the edible plants, at least. You would never starve again if you could help it, and you didn’t plan to live off the Champion’s charity if you could help it.

Link. The first time someone had spoken his name in passing, the hairs on the back of your neck had bristled. When you’d first seen his visage, painted in a portrait along with the other city founders, your skin had crawled, and a chill had clung to you for hours.

And when you ran into him in the square, barreling into him so hard you’d lost your stolen spoils… you’d felt a sense of… of something terrible. Something too large to name—if you’d even had the memory to name it.

You should have said no. You should have told him to leave and never come back. And yet here you were, blisters on your feet and your muscles aching from the long walk. Your body wasn’t used to it, but pride prevented you from asking for a rest.

You didn’t have a choice as you approached the massive fortress up on a crag. Akkala Citadel. You’d never seen it before—hadn’t seen anything but the cave and the city—but it was a sight was an intimidating one. The citadel was to the right, a sheer rock face was to your left, and the crowds were growing thicker.

“It’s the royal celebrations,” the sandy-haired Champion said by way of explanation. “Everyone’s here to get a glimpse of the princess when she reaches the citadel.”

He pulled the horse up by its reins, and you nearly ran into the damned thing’s rump. You flinched to the side, watching its hooves in case it decided to kick out in annoyance.

“We’re going to have to share a saddle. The crowd is too thick, and we’ll be separated.” The Champion had turned and was now staring down at you from under his hood. He’d pulled it up during the ride, most likely so he wouldn’t be recognized, but no one on the road had spared either of you a glance.

You knew he was right, but it didn’t mean you had to like it. Glaring at his offered hand for a moment, you grabbed it and allowed him to pull you into the saddle.

You held onto his waist for balance and then removed your hands quickly, trying to put what little space there was between you. An effort that proved futile; when the Champion clicked his horse forward, you were forced to hold onto him again. You’d never ridden a horse before, or if you had you couldn’t remember. Your body had no latent memory of it, and you nearly lost your balance again.

The Champion sighed and reached back with both hands, grabbed you around the wrist, and pulled your arms completely around his waist.

You remained stiff and frozen for a moment, too stunned to shove him off, but then the horse was moving again, and you had no choice but to use him as an anchor. At least the Champion had gone quiet, having to concentrate as he weaved his beast through the jostling crowds. Begrudgingly you had to admit he was right, and that you would have been quickly lost in the sea of people.

You had just passed under the gate separating Akkala from the rest of the world when you made a mistake. You met the eye of one of the guards. A guard you recognized as the son of the merchant you’d last stolen from.

Your stomach clenched.

“Halt!”

The Champion whipped his head around, but the crowd had begun to surge, voices rising in confusion and panic as the merchant’s son signaled more guards over to him.

The horse whickered and threw back its head, nervous by the sudden lack of space, and the Champion struggled to control his beast. Too distracted to what was about to happen.

A guard grabbed you by the back of your cloak and yanked, hard. You were pulled from the saddle, and the Champion gave a surprised shout as he reached for you.

Your fingertips brushed.

It was awfully familiar, as if you’d done this before. You couldn’t place where or how, and in the next second, you were ripped away from him and into the guard’s harsh hands.

You didn’t scream, or cry, or even breathe, too frightened to do anything but try to make yourself a smaller target. You’d already been thrown into the city dungeons, left there to panic in the dark. The memory clawed at your throat, of cloying rotten hay and the stench of decay and rodent feces.

At the thought that you’d return to that nightmare, you finally began to struggle, but the guards were already pulling out a pair of manacles.

“We are on royal business! Let her go!”

You couldn’t see him past the ring of armored guards, but the fury in the Champion’s tone was surprising. You’d expected him to be gone by now, judging you too much of a bother to try and retrieve.

“And I’m the princess,” one of the guards mocked. “Don’t you recognize my golden hair?”

The rest of his companions laughed along with him. It was their cruel laughter that did it.

You bit down on the hand of your closest captor, kicking another and clawing at the forearm of the one who held you, the merchant’s son. He seemed to have the same cruel streak as his father; he hit you hard across the face. Pain blurred everything, sounds muffled as your head rung like a bell, and there was a coppery taste in your mouth.

The sounds of a sword being unsheathed split the air. The guards went dead silent, their laughter cut as if by the blade itself.

You lifted your head enough to see the Champion pointing his legendary sword under the chin of the merchant’s son.

The crowd had also gone quiet, but there were whispers.

The Master Sword. The Awakened Champion. The Hero of Hyrule.

His face was a mask of sharp but contained fury, poised to be unleashed, and for the first time you understood how he’d come to earn his titles. This wasn’t the awkward young man who’d wandered into your cave. This was a knight. A commander.

A warrior.

“I’m sure the Akkalan guards do not wish to interfere with the princesses’ affairs,” he said in that same even, calm tone.

“Of course not, Master Link. Please, accept our apologies,” the merchant’s son rushed out, his eyes wide under his polished helm. “We didn’t know.”

Except the Hero had told them and they’d chosen not to listen, but you couldn’t complain because the guards released you and now backed away as if you were plagued.

You stood motionless in the sudden empty space, hunched slightly inward, prepared to bolt. Hundreds of eyes were staring, peering at you with greedy, curious looks that sent your heart racing.

But you didn’t run. Link placed his sword back into its cloth-wrapped scabbard, and then reached down a hand to you. This time, you didn’t hesitate to take it.

The guards for their part ordered the crowd to move out of the way, and the horse trotted through the opened space easily, apparently just as happy for the extra room as you were. You kept your head down, pulling up your hood and hiding your aching face as you moved through the crowd and to the other side of the outpost.

Link gave a quiet sight, and you could actually feel the expansion of his back against your chest. You weren’t as keen to put space between you this time, even if the physical closeness was disconcerting.

“I wanted to keep our journey a secret, but so much for that. Are you all right?”

You blinked and frowned. Why did that matter?

“Yes,” was all you said. It was true, you weren’t gravely injured, and you didn’t want any more attention on you. All you wanted to do was hide, and you kept your forehead pressed against his shoulder so he couldn’t look at your face. He did that too much already, peering too closely as if searching for something there.

You had no idea what he was hoping to find, and you were still seriously considering running from him the first chance you got. Those intense looks were almost too much to bear.

When only a few minutes had passed, Link turned his horse onto a small outcropping next to a series of boulders to block the view of the road. It wasn’t very much room, and only a few feet away was a sheer drop, but from there you could see almost all of Central Hyrule.

The view was distracting enough that you didn’t question him when Link stopped his horse and dropped down from the saddle. When he turned and reached up to you, you allowed him to help you down. He released you, and you nearly collapsed on your shaky legs, so he gripped your arms and helped you stand again.

“Hey, it’s all right,” he said. “You’re safe now.”

The softness in his words, the physical closeness of him, it was suddenly too much, and you wiggled from his grip.

He released you but only so he could reach up into one of the saddlebags, his brows pulled into a worried slant. He pulled out a small bottle and a cloth.

“Let me look at your face.”

You shied away again, wanting just a moment to breathe without him touching you, but he wouldn’t have it. The Hylian gently gripped your chin and turned it towards him, and you gave in and let him do what he wanted. Better to just get it over with so he could go back to focusing on the journey and not on you.

You looked right past his shoulder and refused to meet his eyes. Eyes that looked familiar because you’d seen them staring back at you from the spring’s reflection.

You grit your teeth. How was it fair that a stranger’s face was more familiar to you than your own?

“How badly does it hurt?” he asked, mistaking your distress for pain.

You said nothing, but he seemed to be used to your silence, because he continued to speak.

“I’m sorry this happened. Idiots. The guards didn’t use to be like this. Now it seems al they know is violence.”

“Isn’t that what you do, Champion? Keep violence as your closest companion?”

The words were out before you could stop them. You tensed, expecting him to lash out. All he did was frown as he poured out some of the thick red liquid onto the cloth.

“When necessary. Try not to move, this will sting.”

And it did, but he was surprisingly gentle as he dabbed the cloth over your split lip. You closed your eyes, letting the pain ground you and clear your head. Pain and discomfort seemed to be things you knew how to endure, even if you couldn’t remember why.

Once the cloth was removed from your lip, you opened your eyes to find he was looking slowly over your face, studying every line. And then he turned away, putting his supplies back into the saddlebag, but something was burning within you.

Anger. Another emotion you were becoming intimately familiar with.

“Your kindness isn’t for me. It’s for whoever or whatever you believe I am.”

The muscles in his shoulders and back tensed. Your voice rose as you threw out one arm, indicating the space around you.

“Why am I truly here?”

Link finally turned to face you, his expression heavier than you expected it to me.

“As I said, to help you.”

You met his gaze in a challenge, fists clenched at your side as you took a step forward.

“I don’t believe you,” you said through your teeth. “I’m nothing to you, just as I’m nothing to those guards. They look at me and see a thief. You look at me and see a puzzle to be solved. A quest to be conquered. How are you any better than them?”

He opened his mouth to answer, looking almost offended, as if you’d struck a nerve. Perhaps you had. You turned away and crossed your arms, more for comfort now than to be hostile.

“If you still insist on this journey, then I insist on walking.”

As if the deities of this world had heard you, a water droplet hit you on the nose. And then another on your ear. And then it began to drizzle, and you fumed with irritation.

“The path will be slippery, and the horse will be more surefooted than we are,” he said from somewhere near your shoulder. He was damned quiet while moving.

“Fine,” you snapped, but there was no venom in it.

When Link was once again in the saddle and reached down a gloved hand, you took it with silent reluctance.

Next Chapter

[skellebonez]

Smoke, Flasks, and Unfinished Tasks: Chapter 11

AO3 Link!

Chapter 1 Link!, Chapter 2 Link!, Chapter 3 Link!, Chapter 4 Link!, Chapter 5 Link! Chapter 6 Link! Chapter 7 Link! Chapter 8 Link! Chapter 9 Link! Chapter 10 Link!

Summary: Things are coming to a head. Poor Red.

Warnings: descriptions of blood and injury, self depreciation, mentions of past abuse, mention of one character dismissing their own abuse in the past in passing

Chapter 11: Escalation and Benefaction

Jin was not expecting a celebratory parade when he managed to sneak his way out of his confinement, but he wasn’t expecting the dead silence that greeting him either.

“Hmn... maybe she can’t keep her attention divided up between the four of us as easily as I thought,” he muttered to himself. “Or maybe my extra tricks back there actually worked.”

There was only so much one person could pay attention to at any given moment, and Jin was looking to take advantage of that fact. That, and the fact Jade face didn’t know how easy it would be for him to set up a continuous loop of some of his past actions (pacing, laying down, pacing again, kicking the bed, etc) to distract her into thinking he had given up in frustration. Should she ask him something and he not answer, he hoped that she would be able to believe that he was giving her the silent treatment.

As for being on the outside... he needed to be careful. He had an extra cloak on him now, something that he knew would only fool the system for a short while and something that he couldn’t share with the others. If he had been able to, they all probably would have been out of here by now.

He needed to be quick, he needed to be silent, and he needed to use everything about the Calabash he and Yin had built from scratch deep in his own memory to his advantage.

... now if only he could remember the stupid shortcut key code so he wouldn’t have to wander around like a headless chicken...

~

Mei held back a wince as the blood on Pigsy’s back ceased flowing. It was much more than he should be able to survive losing, transparency to it allowing her to look at it without much more reaction. It worried her how the rest of it had started not to bother her, the sight of exposed bone quickly vanishing after that. Now, once she was able to properly ignore it, it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

She tried to think back to what MK and Jin had told her about the Calabash. Jin knew the inner workings of the machine (for some reason he called it more of a  Lotus Eater than the original type of artifact the Calabash of old was, but she had no idea what that actually meant), but he had never actually been inside of one that was trying to work on him actively. Only test runs, and they weren’t a match for the real deal like MK had gone through.

The Monkie Kid had made one thing clear, smell in particular was dulled. And as long as the biting coppery smell of blood wasn’t there fully Mei knew she could handle this. None of it was real.

There were other things to look out for, little glitches that would showcase weaknesses in where the machine was trying to make things work but failed.

She’d seen a few of these so far, watching the monkey dancers she’d seen two of them buffer like on a live stream and then jump forward back into position. She watched as a cat seemed to teleport instead of jump from one food stand to another. The more she paid attention to them instead of her friends the more of them she began to notice.

The Calabash didn’t seem to be doing as good a job trying to keep four different people contained at once as Princess Jade Face seemed to think it was. Or maybe the fox spirit just didn’t care as long as the job was done.

“What’cha thinking about over there?” Tang voice called out from behind her. The parade was long since passed, faster than she thought it would have come to think of it, and the four of them were making their way back to Pigsy’s food stall. The festivities weren’t over with yet, they still had customers to feed and then they had to pack everything up, and-

When Mei turned to look at Tang they were all on the ground, a crowd surrounding all of them and half staring at the bodies while the rest stared at her sword. Brilliant and green and shining with freshly spilled blood.

~

“Bud?” The fake Wukong asked softly, stepping forward with a look of concern on his face. “Are you ok?”

“No,” MK answered honestly without even thinking, fighting the urge to take an immediate step back away from the sight of his mentor. Every time he looked his face seemed to flicker back to the one from not even a few minutes ago. Cold. Angry. Disappointed.

“No?” Fake Wukong repeated, looking at him for a second before scowling. MK did not fight the flinched step back this time as he shook his head, looking at his student with disdain. “Why did I ever pick someone like you to be my successor anyway? Damn, my brother was right, you are the worst possible choice for anything.”

“Wh-what?” MK asked, eyes widening in shock. “B-brother?”

Fake Wukong scoffed, looking more like Macaque in his motions than Wukong. MK didn’t know if this was making what was before his eyes better or worse.

“I knew you were dumb, Kid, but damn,” Wukong shook his head, and despite the fakeness of his words that still hurt. That hurt deeper down than he would ever admit to anyone out loud. “I didn’t know you were this much of an idiot. Your own boss is Zhu Bajie and you can’t even put the pieces together to realize that’s the brother I am talking about? Pathetic. I should have picked Mei, she would have been so much better at this than you. Or Red Son, even-”

MK didn’t pay attention to the rest of the Monkey King’s tirade. He couldn’t. He did what he was second best at. Not paying attention. He let his mind unfocus and wander and think about the only thing in this conversation that he latched on to.

Pigsy was Zhu Bajie's reincarnation. He knew that, he’d known that since he and Wukong had reunited and Pigsy got so angry at his mentor for not recognizing him even in his newest life. But he had forgotten just how important that was over time. He knew the stories, he knew who Sun Wukong’s enemies wore... and he knew who Zhu Bajie’s were. Pigsy was his father figure, the man next to Tang who had cared for him the longest and next to Wukong also cared about him the most. Pigsy was as close to Mei and Red Son as he was now. He’d called them both his kids before.

MK wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box, he would readily admit that both Mei and Red Son were smarter than him in multiple ways, but the fake Wukong was wrong. He wasn’t an idiot. And now he knew exactly what Princess Jade Face actually wanted, what she was trying to do. He’d had it happen before, long ago with other people. Unfortunately for him, he was also smart enough to know that whatever happened to the three of them now... she probably didn’t care. They weren’t the ones she was truly after at all.

“Are you even listening to me?” Fake Wukong snapped, glowering down at him with even more anger than before. But then he softened, sighing as his form glitched and his concerned visage took back over. “Bud? I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me... can you forgive me?”

“Yeah,” MK said softly, nodding his head down. Now he focused, taking in everything around him and deciding on what to pay attention to. The monkeys that were with them during training glitched. He couldn’t hear the wind the way it should have been. The incense that should have been burning at the memorial shrine was not there. “I’m sorry Monkey King, I promise I can do better.”

He gave his widest and most fake smile, the one he had used on so many time and time again.

“OK,” Fake Wukong smiled, and the world glitched around them.

~

Red Son knew that to a lot of people this wouldn’t have been as bad as it seemed to him. Red Son knew that to a lot of people this would seem like something he should have been able to move past and forget. Red Son was like most people at first. Berating himself for not being over it, for being hurt, for running what his father said to him over and over in his head as he told himself “it wasn’t that bad, he barely even did anything why are you upset?”

“What I said back then,” DBK growled out, placing Red Son down once they were far away from their food stall. He didn’t hurt him, but the tight feeling of being held that way lingered. “When the spirit possessed me? I didn’t like the idea of thinking I had thought those things myself.”

MK and Mei were not "a lot of people”. They were the only two that knew what had happened between himself and his father on the day of the Lunar New Year festival. Not even Sun Wukong knew why he had fled to Flower Fruit Mountain to seek him out that day.

“But now I know you truly are a disappointment,” he continued, just as he had that day. His voice was low, both in volume and in tone, but the words his Red’s ears like they were screamed at him. “To throw everything away for something as petty as... what? Fear? Pain? You are a demon! Our whole lives are fear and pain! You have grown soft, under that teaching or over time I do not know which, but I have no place for a weakness like you.”

Red Son said nothing. There were no glitches. He had said nothing before. He clenched his fists, bit his lip, remembered what Mei and MK had told him.

His father scoffed, reaching forward with a claw to rip the necklace hidden under his shirt off his neck. The phantom pain of his neck burning from the pull as the chain snapped lingered longer than anything else here had.

“You are a disgrace,” DBK bit out, sounding for all the world like he had just been insulted in the highest degree. “You’re barely even my son. No... No, if you’re going to fall down to this? After your mother and I fought so hard to get you back? After I was trapped for so long because of you? Then I don’t have one.”

The world glitched forward a bit. He remembered, he had tried to argue with his father. But he hadn’t listened. The glitch ended and he was backed into a corner, his father’s huge face in his own as he scowled. He was intimidating him. Never touching, never laying a hand on him.

“Then prove it, calf. If you are my son, if you aren’t the disappointment you have proven yourself to be time and time again, then show me,” he stood back to his full height, scowling and eyes glowing in energy. “Go to the Little Thief. Join him. And either defeat me in battle, prove to me by besting me that we should no longer fight... or bring me his head.”

And that was it. His father jumped, leaving him behind feet from the food stall.

Disowned. Abandoned. With two impossible tasks.

Red Son slipped to the ground, shaking as he remembered what Mei and MK had told him when he told them the truth. Of why he flew to Flower Fruit Mountain, the one place where his father could never follow. Why he had let Wukong take him to Pigsy’s Noodles when he found him on the beach, sad and alone and soaking in the ocean water he had crashed landed in. Why he had been so hesitant to get close to anyone but was so willing to offer then any information or tech they needed.

Mei and MK told him that he was hurt. That it was ok that he felt hurt. That what his father had done wasn’t something to just get over. What his mother had done was much the same. That he was hurting because they had hurt him.

The steam that was his tears that billowed out from the corners of his eyes told him that he thought they were right.

“Oh... my poor little cub,” a soft voice rang out from behind his ear, and Red Son didn’t even have the chance to jump before arms that only felt half there wrapped around his shoulders. “Had I known that my husband would treat you this way I would have come back sooner. You don’t have to go back to him, you know.” The soft chuckling in his ear was warped, glitched, but sounded too close to not be from her. Princess Jade Face was smiling in the corner of his eye, soft and warm and terrifying.

“I don’t plan on hurting you, Red Boy. I promise.”

Red Son did not believe her.

[yandere--stuck]

CAN WE PLEASE HAVE A FOLLOWUP TO THE CRAZY RED POSESSION FIC IT WAS SO GOOD! PLEASE AND THANK YOU

Redd pulled your lips in a smile, hoping he didn't make you seem as nervous as he felt. Of course, he could give up the act now, if he really wanted, but there was still a chance he could get away with this. And, if he did, there was a chance he could make this more than a one-time thing!

"Ya wanted to see me, Nookie?" He asked in your voice.

See, he had an ace up his sleeve. But, when did Redd not?

Redd held back a frown when Tom winced at the nickname.

"Yes, yes," The tanooki said, voice lilting with unease. "I was wondering… Simply how you were feeling today, if you were doing alright."

"Oh, just fine, Nookie!" Redd makes you answer a bit too quickly. "Don't you worry about me, I'm fine."

"Forgive me, but, would you mind it too greatly if I asked you to not call me that? It reminds me of… Bad memories, I'm afraid."

If his ears were visible, they'd have folded back against your head. "Oh, yeah, of course! I- uh, got it from your ol' pal Redd! Down by the beach, y'know?"

"Oh," A solemn look wormed it's way onto Tom's face. "I wasn't aware you knew of our shared past."

"Just a little bit." Redd quirked your lips into a grin, hoping your visage didn't appear too nervous. 

"I must confess I've been… Worried about you."

"There's nothing to worry about, Noo- Tom. Like I said, I'm fine."

The tanooki sighed. "I'm sorry. I must appear a bit overprotective. Still, are you certain you're feeling well? Redd is… he and I-, let's just say that he's not a normal fox, he's a kitsune-"

Redd fought off the urge to roll your eyes at the tanooki's rambling. He was certain that, had you been mentally awake at the time, you'd be hanging onto every word. You were sweet like that. Luckily, your mind was asleep for as long as he had control, and if you managed to remember any of this, you'd simply think it a dream.

Redd was ready to show his ace. Tom knew something was up, but the kitsune was certain Nook had no idea he had possessed you. Now, for the finishing move to make Nook forget about the whole thing!

The kitsune moved your body forward, leaning forward to plant a kiss on the tanooki's lips. He couldn't help but grin as he felt Tom seize up in surprise, and then just as quickly melt into the kiss.

Ah, memories…

A younger, innocent version of himself would have swooned at the thought of something like this - how Tom was basically kissing the both of you at once. How romantic.

Maybe that part of him wasn't as long gone as he thought.

Sure, you'd be confused if Tom brought this up when you were conscious, but it'd certainly be funny to watch you both flounder about and try to figure out what had happened - and what did kitsunes love more than mischief, huh?

Plus, it did feel good, possessing your body and having the both of you kiss his old flame.

Redd moved to part your body from the tanooki, only to be pushed up against the construction services desk. Your voice spluttered in surprise, cut off as Tom recaptured your lips in his own. Your eyes were bugged out in shock, Redd squirming in Tom's grip.

Tom moaned into the kiss, holding you gently but firmly, brushing the front of his body against yours.

Did- did he know? Was Tom punishing him for trying to pull such a trick?

And- and why wouldn't he let go?

[crusherthedoctor]

Sonic & Tails: Beyond the Stars - Chapter 6-7 Interlude

Complications

“Say Tails, didn't you upgrade the Tornado before we arrived in Viridonia?”

“...Oh yeah. I did, didn't I? Thanks for reminding me.”

Tails shuffled his hand from behind his back, and quickly pulled out a small device, to which everyone displayed varying levels of raised eyebrows in response to how exactly he managed to do that. With a simple press of a button, he patiently turned his attention to the sky, which still had not a single cloud to its visage.

Confused by this, Sonic slowly looked all around the arid landscape. “What are we waiting for? We gotta go get it, right? No point standing around if it's not-... ...oh, there it is.” The moment he looked back ahead, there was a look of wonder on his face, as the famous plane was right where it previously wasn’t mere seconds ago, floating in the air triumphantly. Its engines were roaring with life.

“That was... almost as fast as me. Almost.”

“That's awesome!” Amy cried out happily. She had an equally amazed Cream and Cheese tucked under her arms to prevent her friends’ small frames from being blown away by the sheer force generated by the Tornado.

“Not bad, indeed,” Rouge added, after using her own gift of flight to examine the plane from above. “Seems like quite a breakthrough, little guy.”

“Yep!” Tails beamed, his tails gliding up and down in sync with his visible excitement. “With a push of a button, I can summon it to wherever we are! So if we need it in short notice, it'll be no trouble at all.”

Sonic ruffled his young friend's head once again, grinning all the while. “That's my bro! No way this WON'T come in handy!” He paused, as he put a finger to his chin. “Could have been handy beforehand too, come to think of it...”

“Absolutely impeccable work, Tails,” Lutrudis applauded. “At least some of our greatest geniuses aren't foul in spirit.” She was evidently unperturbed by the force causing her ponytail to fly in her face more than once. She brushed it aside every time, and her smile didn’t falter.

“But will it have enough room for all of us? Though I suppose Miss Rouge will be unbothered...” She turned her head up at the flying bat, before her ponytail flew in her face yet again.

“Well, there's four seats now, so technically we'd be just one short. But...” The fox motioned towards the wing. “That hasn't stopped Sonic before... even when there are seats available.”

“True,” Sonic confirmed, with another trademark smirk. “Now let's get out of here, I'm sweating like an Eggman who's about to be foiled.”

“...Me too,” Lutrudis agreed as she fluttered a hand to fan herself, unable to come up with a clever comparison of her own. Amy was likewise quick to nod in agreement.

---

After returning to the castle, and after a couple of showers the moment they returned, Lutrudis directed the gang to the kitchen. But not before two members of the group were finally given their gifts, after Lutrudis made sure to clean those as well...

“~It’s so beautiful!~” Amy’s line of sight was hyper focused on her new silver necklace, its emerald jewel matching the girl’s eyes perfectly. Cream was likewise enticed by her own necklace, and its garnet jewel was a similar match for the bunny’s own eyes. The two of them couldn’t have been any more over the moon with their gifts, with Amy practically dancing in giddy ecstasy. “I can’t get over how it looks!”

“Thank you so much for this, Trudy!” Cream shimmered brightly.

“But wouldn’t they have cost a lot?” Amy wondered. “I wouldn’t want you to burn a hole in your wallet for our sake...”

“It’s cool,” Lutrudis waved a hand, her tail swishing happily in response to seeing her fellow companions’ joy. “I couldn’t resist seeing the looks on your faces. And honestly, the price was nothing compared to the real difficulty of washing away the stench of oil,” she joked.

Although the visitors (except Rouge) should have been long used to the shifts between the rooms in the castle by this point, they still found themselves caught off guard by the kitchen’s unique appearance. Far from the reds of the halls, the blues of the bathroom, or the whites of the greenhouse, the kitchen’s primary colours were brown and black, and yet it was not drab in the slightest. With its warm shades, and combined with the wooden floor and the brick walls, it almost gave the impression of a country aesthetic, even though no such aesthetic was truly present in any obvious form.

They remained impressed with how the castle was able to maintain an overarching sense of comfort and beauty, despite each room being different in its own way, sometimes vastly so. Rouge also couldn’t help but wonder to herself if any of those pretty crystals were nearby... for reasons, of course. But alas, they had more important things to attend to. Namely, Rouge’s reports about them.

“So then,” Sonic started. “What did you find out about them?”

“Well if you spare me just a little minute... ah, here they are.” Rouge pulled out a small handful of documents from behind her back, and casually tossed them onto the biggest table in the kitchen. “There you have them. Knock yourself out.”

“Are we... allowed to read these documents?” Lutrudis questioned, after showing hesitance to do so. “Since it is G.U.N. work and all, they might get ever so slightly incensed that you’re sharing such documents with little old us...”

Rouge placed her hands on her hips, unfazed as ever. “They don’t have to know. It’ll be our little secret.” A smirk planted itself on her lips. “Besides, since Sonic is the one who actually saves the world from all the things that threaten it, it’s more useful in your hands anyway, let’s be honest.”

Lutrudis looked at Sonic, who himself turned to Tails, who then turned to Amy, who likewise turned to Cream, and she looked at Cheese, to which he looked back at Lutrudis.

“Chao...?” Cheese asked.

After a pause, they all shrugged, unanimously finding no reason to debate with the bat. And with that, they got right down to business. Predictably, Sonic was quick to skim through them, and at first, he seemed somewhat unimpressed with what he was reading.

“These... aren’t telling me anything we don’t already know,” he complained. “Different abilities depending on the colour, grey crystals are less effective than colored ones, stronger reactions when more of the same colour are used together... We know all this...”

“Keep reading,” Rouge commanded firmly. “There’s bound to be something.”

“Fine, will do...”

“Actually Sonic... I don’t remember THIS part,” Amy noted, as she quickly brought the file she was reading over to Sonic. “It says here that with the right amount of Chao and crystals present, they can directly open the way to the Ethereal Zone...?”

“Really?” Tails asked. “I... guess that’s not a conclusion without merit, but for all of Eggman’s antics, I thought it’d be more complicated than that?”

“It is, in a sense,” Rouge answered. She walked over to a nearby chair to lean against. “The Chao and crystals can open the way, yes, but you need a lot of them to do it. A lot of them. And not just a lot of them, but in the case of crystals, a lot of every individual type.”

“So more crystals than I have, then?” Lutrudis pondered, with a stroke of her hair. “But... they aren’t finite, they can respawn. Does it not count if it’s a... erm, replacement crystal?”

“Since they’re no less effective, logic would dictate that they would count. But doing it that way would likely take forever, especially if you’re as impatient as Dr. Eggman. Not to mention he’s already hunting after the Chao as well anyway. So he’s probably just finding crystals anywhere and everywhere he can for the sake of it being faster.”

“How many exactly?” Sonic asked. For all his comments at Eggman’s expense, he knew the doctor having access to so many of them would be no joke.

“More than any of us have seen so far. You’d practically need a mountain of them.”

“Sheesh... But where would Eggman be able to find such an amount? We’ve seen multiple spots with plenty of them, like the cave under here, but not to the level of what you’re describing...”

“Hold up,” Tails said, as he pointed to a particular section of the file he was reading. “There are people who live in the Ethereal Zone...? Or lived, past tense?”

Sonic’s ears stood up. “Okay, fair play, I DEFINITELY don’t recall that part. How did you find that out? Have you been there or something?” he asked half-sarcastically.

“Do you really think all those fancy murals and paintings around here are just a coincidence?” Rouge pointed out, in a playful tone with a wagging finger.

“Murals? Paintings? What are you...” He stopped, as he slowly recalled a number of recent occurrences. “You mean... like the ones in the desert town...”

“Or those carvings in Zephyr Mountain...” Tails recalled.

“And the ones by the meadows...” Lutrudis added. “Every one of them includes people in their visuals...”

“And those aren’t the only ones,” Rouge confirmed. “The Ethereal Zone may be little more than a myth to most people on this island, but the legends have always had an influence in their lives and culture.”

“And their buildings, considering some of them are prone to glowing,” Sonic dryly quipped. “You’d think that would be enough to confirm it’s real.”

“So is that gross monster who works for Eggman one of the people... or things... that live in there?” Amy asked, understandably puzzled to say the least. “It wouldn’t be involved in Eggman’s schemes for nothing, right?”

“Oh, so we DO have another Chaos on our hands?” Sonic continued, hands on hips. “These beats are sounding more and more like Chaos to me... minus the whole mystery world dimension thingymajig part, I guess. Right down to involving the Chao...” As if on cue, his attention was focused on a lone playful Chao swinging from his arm, which he soon tried to prevent from falling off.

“At this rate, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Wraith was a mutated Chao too,” he added, still focused on the thankfully unmutated Chao.

“I doubt that, but this is where it gets weird...”

“As opposed to everything else about this, which is perfectly normal...?”

Rouge rolled her eyes as she continued. “If it was someone or something that belonged inside the Ethereal Zone... then what’s it doing out of the Zone, if Eggman still hasn’t unlocked it for himself? Did it get out by itself, and if so, how did it do it? And furthermore, if this one managed to get out, how come we’ve seen no others like it?”

She sighed to herself, with a clenched fist. “Not even the A.R.K. reports were this complicated. At least with that one, the biggest hurdle was going to space.”

Everyone went silent. Though Rouge’s documents were definitely giving them more to work with, there were still some unsolved mysteries even now, and as far as they knew, Eggman was still in no rush to clue them in on the rest of the details. As they all quietly thought about where to go from here, Cream was the one who broke the silence.

“You’re really good at finding out things, Miss Rouge,” the rabbit said cheerfully, despite not fully understanding the documents to the same extent as her older friends. Rouge seemed to be caught off guard by the sudden compliment, but even she couldn’t help but smile at Cream’s innocence.

---

Since they still hadn’t decided on what their next course of action would be, everyone took the time to split up for a short while. Rouge offered to search around Lime Shores to see if she could uncover new info, and Amy demanded to go with her, possibly out of wariness as to whether the jewel hunter slash government agent was up to anything shady. Rouge didn’t even bother arguing with it, knowing full well that Amy’s stubbornness was comparable to that of the Blue Blur himself... or the Black Blur that she was even more familiar with. Must be a hedgehog thing.

Cream wasn’t sure if leaving Amy and Rouge to themselves was a good idea or not, considering she had some vague awareness of their past history with each other. But she decided to stick with Lutrudis despite that, confident that her older sister figure and the bat lady would be able to set any potential disagreements aside for now. The rest of the Chao were following them, as Lutrudis promised to take the diminutive creatures to somewhere special. As they were walking through the castle hallway however, with the rabbit holding the horse’s hand, something seemed to be troubling her...

“Trudy?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I confess to something?”

“Confess?” Lutrudis couldn’t help but let out a soft giggle. “As if you would ever need to confess to anything. But sure, you can tell me whatever you’re comfortable with telling.”

“I’m worried about what Dr. Eggman might do next...”

“Eggman?” The horse stopped in her tracks, and she made sure to kneel down to Cream’s height, albeit slowly so as to not put too much strain on her legs. “What’s he done to get you all concerned?”

“Well... all that stuff that happened in the desert. Those monsters that came to life...” Cream tugged on her left ear, looking to the side with minor anxiousness. “And the big ship that created the big hurricane...” She shuddered at the memory, holding tightly onto Cheese.

“Chao...!” Cheese muttered, slightly dismayed at temporarily being unable to breathe.

“Dr. Eggman does a lot of bad things, and I wish he would stop. But he’s doing really scary things now... What will happen next? And what does he want to do with all these Chao?” She was quick to turn her gaze to Lutrudis’ eyes, having once again seeked out the resemblance to that of her own mother’s.

Lutrudis glanced around at all the Chao floating above them. They exchanged various looks of concern, yet she simply smiled at every one of them, as if to ease their individual tensions. She turned that sympathetic smile to Cream, and gently stroked her cheek. “But we know what he’ll do next, sweetie... He’ll be ranting incoherently and screaming filthy words after we strike a blow to his overstuffed ego.” She followed it up with a wink, as Cream giggled at her comment. “Nothing Eggman has done has stopped you or your friends before, and that won’t change now.”

“I guess you’re right, heh,” Cream admitted, with a nervous smile. “I know it’s silly to be afraid, but...”

“Hey, don’t say that, there’s nothing silly about it at all.” She put both of her hands on the rabbit’s shoulders. “There’s no shame in feeling afraid, it happens to all of us. And heck, after everything you’ve been through, I’d dare say you’re brave where it truly counts.”

“Really?”

“Chao?”

“Would I lie to you?”

“...No, you wouldn’t,” Cream’s smile grew less nervous, as she nuzzled up against the horse’s chest to hug her. Lutrudis, still evidently not used to receiving them, took a moment or two to react, but slowly wrapped her arms around the bunny in turn, and rubbed the little one’s back. Her tail started swishing again.

“In fact... how about we do a little something to commemorate your previous, brave adventures?”

“Huh?” Cream gave her an inquisitive look. “What do you mean?”

“Well you see, you wouldn’t believe it coming from these hands, but I know a thing or two about knitting...”

---

“I’m still not used to Eggman being this hush hush...” Tails muttered, as he and Sonic took the time to have a calming walk outside. Though they were now accustomed to hanging around the castle, the size of its walls still amazed them greatly, and if they hadn’t been discussing Eggman affairs, the tranquility of the forest would have lowered their guards completely.

“Me neither,” Sonic agreed, as he took a swig of his fresh can of Chaos Cola. If he wasn’t already aware that Trudy was hospitable, he was very grateful for the contents in her fridge. “The doc would usually be the FIRST to tell us about his plan.”

“He even sent us a letter one time.”

“Well, that wasn’t actually him, but...” He brushed the correction aside, figuring it wasn’t important, since it’s still something he’d probably do. He made sure to cherish the therapuetic sunshine that was seeping through the greenery. “He’s never been shy about what he’s up to. Even when he’s tried to be more secretive, he could never resist giving it all away. But this time... even with his hints, we have incomplete info... Like that Wraith! We know it’s evil, works for Eggman, may or may not hail from the Ethereal Zone... MIGHT be another mutated Chao...?”

“He said all the stuff he’s been doing lately is connected,” Tails remembered, as he rubbed his chin intently. He took a moment to admire the pristine condition of the lake nearby. “But... how? So much of it feels so disconnected. He wants more Chao and crystals, that part’s easy to understand, but how does all the rest factor into it? And why has he made the Wraith part of it?”

“I bet he’s laughing it up right now,” Sonic grumbled out of irritation, with the frown to match. “Probably thinks we’re dummies for not knowing every last oh so brilliant detail of his convoluted spider web.”

“But we will get to the bottom of it, right?” Tails suggested with a hint of hope. “Don’t forget, we’re not on our own here. We don’t know where the Chaotix ended up, but we’ve still got detectives on our side. AND Rouge is a G.U.N. agent!”

“One of the only competent ones...” Sonic murmured to himself.

Tails was about to counter the hedgehog’s dismissive statement, but he stopped himself, with his body language indicating he actually agreed deep down, if reluctantly. “G.U.N. or no G.U.N, Rouge is still really smart, isn’t she? And... I know she’s been kinda sneaky a couple of times in the past, but I think we can trust her now.”

“Yeah, cause neither of us are Knuckles. We don’t guard a Master Emerald, so we have nothing to worry about.” Sonic chuckled out loud. “Just hope she and Amy stay out of each other’s hair for long enough, after what happened with Emerl...”

“Huh? Did something happen between them?”

“Eh, it was ages ago, maybe they made up since then.” He followed it up with another chuckle. “Maybe they were fighting over me,” he joked.

“.........”

Tails promptly went quiet, as if he were reminded of something from the back of his mind at that exact moment. He glanced smoothly in Sonic’s direction, attempting to maintain a relaxed disposition. Sonic didn’t seem to notice anything suspicious.

The silence continued. It seemed there was no reason for the peace to be interrupted, certainly not with the gorgeous view they were still fortunate to witness as they carried on walking together. But the moment Sonic took another sip of his Chaos Cola, the younger of the two decided to ask just one tiny, innocent question...

“So do you have a thing for Trudy?”

He almost felt guilty for causing Sonic to nearly choke on his drink, but not enough to hide the growing smirk on his face upon witnessing his friend’s abrupt change in behaviour. After taking a few seconds to cease the resulting coughing fit, and compose himself, Sonic calmly turned to Tails, an admirably constructed demeanour that was nonetheless betrayed instantly by his spines shooting up in defiance.

“Sorry, what?”

“I mean, y’know, I was just thinking that... maybe... from what I’ve observed... you might just be... possibly developing... a teensy weensy little... thiiiiiing...” The fox shuffled his eyebrows, complete with vague hand motions. “Foooorrrrrr...” He proceeded to subtly mimic a galloping horse.

Sonic blinked, and stayed silent for a couple of seconds, though it sure didn’t feel like just a couple of seconds. After an uneasy pause, another small chuckle eventually emerged from his mouth, and this time it was followed by a brief period of mocking laughter. Most people wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but Tails knew his buddy well, and he could spot the fakeness of his laugh from a mile away.

“Me? Seriously?” Sonic shook his head to dismiss the claim, though if one examined closer, it seemed to be more for his own sake than that of his friend. “You really think I’d be that kind of guy?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it...”

“Yeah, I know there isn’t, but... c’mon, it’s me we’re talking about! Can you imagine me in a situation like that? It’d be a laugh riot, wouldn’t it? Just wouldn’t work out.”

“Why not?”

“Too stuck in my ways, aren’t I?” Sonic shrugged casually, before he glanced at the inviting scenery once more. The desert may have looked nicer than most of its kind, but the fresh air was greatly preferable to him. He gazed at the leaves flowing freely through the calm breeze, and although he brought no attention to it, it was clear that he found it a convenient metaphor for the current subject.

“Settling down just isn’t me,” he continued. “And it never will be. I’d never give up my life, even in my old age.”

“Do you need to settle down, though?” Tails mused out loud. “No one ever said there’s only one way for these things to work out.”

The hedgehog almost seemed to ponder his friend’s words for a fleeting moment, and slowly appeared to be lost in thought. But, as if sensing he was lured into a false sense of security, he quickly shook his head again, freeing himself of the apparent curse that Tails had placed upon him... So he thought.

“Well anyway, the point is, that’s not what’s going on. You know I get chummy with people pretty quickly, even when they tried to kill me before the fact! And sure, Trudy may be cute, but-”

“~Oh, you think so?~”

Sonic’s eyes froze, and the barely concealed grin directed at him was not helping one bit.

“COMPLIMENTING A FRIEND ISN’T A CRIME!” He cried out defensively, and closed his eyes tightly. After taking a moment to breathe, he calmed himself down, and raised a pointed finger.

“...Nothing’s happening. Nothing’s happening. Just getting on with another friend is all.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all, yes.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Absolutely sure?”

“...Are you... wanting something to happen?”

“No no,” Tails raised his hands, though his grin hadn’t quite fully disappeared. “I believe you,” he claimed, in a tone that implied a complete and utter lack of authenticity to that claim. “Just wanted to know what was happening.”

“Well, nothing’s happening,” Sonic reaffirmed bluntly, though a smirk was beginning to form on his own face as well. Even he had to admit the banter was entertaining, and considering who Tails had lived with for most of his life, it’s not like this mischievous side of him developed from nowhere. “So there you have it. Straight from the horse’s mouth.”

Tails immediately burst out laughing, only refraining from laughing harder in order to not attract attention from anyone who could be hearing. Sonic’s initial confusion very quickly switched to annoyance with himself, as he smacked his forehead upon realising his choice of speech. He pointed another finger to prevent any further commentary, to which Tails simply raised his hands again, and mimicked the act of zipping his mouth.

His amusement still refused to actually vanish.

---

Back to Chapter 6...

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Lau - Pink Lotus Princess

(( Just a little disclaimer - I chose to find a nice name for the Reader as well, mostly because I wanted that name to be symbolic and have the meaning that I wanted it to, to be in a clear anti-thesis to her sister. 

Yahui (Elegant, Graceful) Lianyi (Intelligent, Unique)

I did quite a lot of research on things from the Quig dynasty and how things were around that time...And also some influences from the phone game Royal Chaos that I used to play a year ago, more or less because the plot was pretty interesting, so I hope didn’t do any errors or stuff like that x ))

---

The whole kingdom had a reason to party as the Empress gave birth to a little Princess, and although it wasn't an heir, as everyone hoped for, they were still content with it, being his first child.

The Emperor stood by the Empress' side on her bed, stroking her hair as she smiled exhausted down at the little angelic creature she gave birth to, leaning her head on her husband's side, and at least for that night, there would be no Harem troubles. 

That happiness was short lived, as the main Consort also gave birth to a little girl, a little over 2 months later, which made for everyone comparing the 2 little Princesses in everything they did. 

And thus comes the story of the little Princess Lianyi, a girl of merely 10 years of age, seemingly so innocent to the world, and yet, knowing so many of the harsh realities that she witnessed or heard of from her mother, the Empress, who thought the nest birthday gift for her little Lotus was to take her in town to see the world.

Her father gifted her a beautiful pink dress with long sleeves, which she used as pockets for little coin bags and a hair pin, just in case. The maid brushed her long, beautiful hair that looked like black silk in a beautiful half-braid, the upper part being a complicated, royal braid, while the lower part she let loose, dancing to the rhythm of the gentle Spring wind. 

The Empress let the girl do as she pleased, keeping an eye on her from afar, and she realised she admired the beautiful craftsmanship of various hair accessories, when she suddenly heard a huge commotion at a food stand, and a furious man furiously yelling at a boy about her age who looked terrified. 

The little princess frowned and went to the booth, realising the boy must have stolen to feed himself, as he looked like an orphan, and she took out one of the little coin bags and threw them at the booth owner.

"Here, I'm sure this is enough for what he stole and some more, correct?" she spoke in a light voice, yet her eyes were unwavering. "Who tha' hell d'ya think ye are, kid?! Get outta mi sight!" the booth owner shouted at her, making her raise her chin and stare at him offended and condescending. "You dare disrespect Princess Lianyi? How unsightly! But I am merciful today, since it’s my birthday. I will give you a second chance to redeem yourself before I call over my guards." her words shocked the man as she spoke so maturely, almost as of the Emperor himself was in front of him. "Y-Yer the P-Princess...?" the man jaw-dropped, his eyes wide like saucers, before falling to his knees, bowing to the ground in front of the girl. "F-Forgive me rudeness, Yer Highness! That rat stole food and with no money, I can't take care of me own family! P-Please take anything ye'd like!" he sobbed, making the girl crouch down and pat his head awkwardly. "That's enough, I forgive you. Take the money for your family and let me take the food from here. This boy here is just a child without family. Next time you are so ride towards an orphan, imagine what would happen to your child if you were to die right now." she explained in a gentler voice, before taking the food bag and dragged the boy away to a beautiful koi fish pond that was shded by a Peach tree.

The girl lifted the hem of her dress, sitting on the ground and drawing shapes with her finger on the sheen of the crystal clear water. 

"Well? Aren't you going to eat? I thought you'd be famished." she mused in a playful way. "Why...Did you help me? You're a Princess...Nobody from the royal family ever helped the homeless..." he spoke in a hushed voice, almost as if afraid. "Oh, I see you're brave. Nobody would dare drag the royal family in front of the Princess herself. Tell me your name." she smiled deviously, shifting her gaze completely to the boy. "Lau, Your Highness. My name is Lau." saying his name, a soft smile started to creep on his face. "Aww, look at you, you're smiling, how cute. Here, take this. Spend it wisely, I'm not sure when we'll be seeing each other again. Now that I practically bribed you, tell me why are you so at ease with talking to me." the Princess smirked, making the boy muse and grin wider. "You see, Princess, I can read people very well, and I can tell that you have something...Unique about you. Just like a Lotus flower. So tell me, my pink Lotus, what do you do at the palace? Sing like a little songbird for the Emperor? Or do a graceful dance for your suitors?" Lau rested his chin on his palm, looking completely at ease, fox-like features gracing his visage. "Goodness, no, that's my sister...My job at the Palace is to be the China's disappointment." she chuckled drily, looking away. "If I were a bird, I could fly away and be free...I could do anything that I wanted and nobody would judge me or treat me as an object for political means. I could discover the world and...I could be happy." she sighed, closing her beautiful jade-coloured eyes in resentment. "You are just like a butterfly, my Princess. A caged bird, trying to break free. What are you going to do?" he mused in a lower voice. "What is there to do, Lau? I'm a woman! There is nothing to do! My father is already angry enough on me for being such a weird daughter and now I have to learn how to behave, so to speak, so at least he wouldn't kill me or send me away to some nasty old man." she bit her lip without realising, before she felt a gentle hand on her face. "And what are you interests, little flower?" he asked, caressing her face. "I'm...Sneaking to the healers to study medicine. It's my passion. If I could, I would become a healer...But I can't. My fated was sealed to me the day I was brought into this world." she sighed once again, looking down. "If I could marry you, I would, and we could live our life away from all these terrible people. Isn't it sad how fate works sometimes? But I'm asking you, my dear Pink Lotus...What if we were to fight destiny?" he smirked mischievously, making her widen her eyes in disbelief. "Fight fate...? Is that even possible...?" she whispered, barely able to find her voice. "We can do anything we want to, my dearest. All we have to do is be smart about our little plans. So, what do you say? Do you want to escape your fate together with me and get away from this place? Or will you continue to be the Emperor's little doll that will get thrown away in a few years? I believe you're almost old enough to marry, am I right ~?" he slurred his words, almost as if entrancing her in his spell. "How old are you that you know so much?" she raised her eyebrow in confusion. "Barely 15, but my little sister is just a bit younger than you, and I would be devastated if she were to have such a terrible life ahead of her." he spoke with slight amusement. “How nice...You have a sister that you love...And she loves you back. I and my sister have been pitted against each other since birth. I expect death every day by either her hand or the Consort’s.” she scoffed, looking away in disgust. “Who would have thought that such beautiful ladies would be so much deadlier than war generals.” he chuckled in amusement, making the girl nudge him. “Don’t joke like that...Instead, tell me your plan.” she leaned in closer, motioning for him to tell her everything. “Hmmm...? Plan? What plan? I have no idea what are you talking about.” he shrugged simply, a wide, innocent and clueless grin on his face, making the girl look at him in complete shock. “Excuse....Me....WHAT?! You did all that build up, giving me hope that I could somehow get away from all this madness, only for you to destroy everything...Just like that?! How cruel can you be?!” she glared at him, getting to her feet, rushing to leave, before he caught her wrist, turning her to face him. “Wǒ qīn'ài de fěnhóng sè liánhuā    (My dear pink lotus) ...Don’t turn your back on me like that, you’re breaking my heart. You showed me kindness, and I have to repay my debt in a way. Even if you decide to throw away your status, you’re always going to be my dear little Princess. Life works in mysterious ways, don’t forget that.” Lau caressed her face, planting a soft kiss on her forehead, leaving her awestruck, little beads of water glistering in her eyes. “You better not betray me, Lau, or I swear I will have you publicly executed and I will swing the sword myself.” she threatened, despite her voice being so light and shaky. “I shall remember that.” he mused, finding her words rather cute.

---

Years passed faster than anyone expected, and while Lianyi wasn’t able to go visit her friend too often, at least once per year, during her birthday, she managed to see him, thanks to her mother’s kindness, seeing her only daughter being so infatuated with the boy that treated her so gently.

Her mother only got into the Harem and accepted to marry the Emperor because her brother was a powerful War general and she was the eldest daughter of the family, so it had to be done.

She never loved the Emperor, and she wished for her daughter to find and marry a man she loves... The Empress knew from the second she gave birth to her little angel, she knew that she was special and had a great future ahead of her...But she had to be far away from this terrible place...Far away where she wasn’t a Princess and she could marry the man she fell in love with and practice healing, just as she always dreamt of.

However, the Princess’ 15th birthday gift was her mother’s death, which she realised was due to poison from the Consort, and her father arranged her marriage with the enemy War General to make a peace pact, which made her heart break and whole life shatter in front of her.

Lianyi ran to the meeting spot where Lau was waiting, this time, without his little sister, Ran Mao, with whom the girl played with or braided her hair or gave her gifts like hair pins or other nice clothes.

She threw her arms around the only person apart from her mother who showed any bit of love to her and let tears stream down her soft, porcelain like cheeks, making the man worry and put her to his chest, stroking her hair.

“What ever could have happened to make you cry, wǒ de húdié  (my butterfly) ?” he asked in a gentle voice, wiping away the tears. “They killed her, Lau! Those harpies killed her! With monkswood, nonetheless! How much more cruel can they get? Don’t they realise that it’s an act of treason and they could be killed? And if that wasn’t enough, my father is sending me away to marry some 60 year old general that’s our enemy nonetheless...Next week...I don’t know what to do! I’m losing my mind!” she sobbed in his warm embrace as he tried to calm her down, but she was lost beyond reason. “My poor little Princess, so young, yet burdened with such sorrow. I wonder how you will get out of this mess.” he cooed at her, making her grit her teeth in anger. “If you’re not going to help, at least don’t be a jerk about it! I going through a crisis right now, and despite you being the only person I can rely on, you’re mocking me! I am still the Princess and with the little influence I have, I can still have you killed!” she sneered at him, pushing him away, but it only made him chuckle. “Please forgive me, my darling, it’s just...You’re just so adorable when you respond to my teasing. It just makes me want to squish your cheeks and gush over how cute you are. Here, as a way to apologise, I’ll let you braid my hair. How is that?” he unbraided his hair, letting his ebony hair that almost reached his waist fly in the soft wind. “Sure...” she muttered, sitting on the ground behind the man, gently playing with his hair, slowly letting peace wash over her. “If I run away...How will we ever see each other again? I don’t want to lose you, Lau.” she sighed, finishing the braid and hugging the man, resting her forehead on his shoulder. “I would never leave my little Pink Lotus alone. This only means that we have to act sooner than expected. We shall be just like this Peach tree, blooming earlier than our time, but just as beautiful. Lianyi, my darling, will you listen to what I have to say?” he got up, helping the girl stand as well, putting his hands on her pale face, looking deep into her jade-like eyes, feeling his heart warmer as he noticed how divine she looked with her face rosy, in the divine light of Mother Moon. “Of course I will listen to you.” she spoke breathlessly, gazing shyly into his dark eyes. “Then follow your instincts and know that even if you don’t see me next to you, I am still guiding you from the shadows, and soon, we will see each other again when you least expect it. I made a promise with you and I intend to keep it. If you stay around me for now, you will be in grave danger, and I will not allow that to happen.” he spoke firmly, letting her know he wasn’t being playful, as usual. “What have you gotten yourself into...?” she frowned in worry. “Nothing that you should worry over, wǒ qīn'ài de xiǎo gōngzhǔ ( my dear little princess ).” he soothed her gently, letting his sleeve fall down a bit down, revealing a dragon tattoo. “Oh, Lau...Please be safe. I don’t know what I’d do if I knew something happened to you.” she pleaded with her eyes, glimmering like jewels in the light, making the brunet man smile gently at her, tracing her soft, luscious lips resembling the petals of a pink lotus, with his thumb. “I promise you that we will both be okay, if you promise me you’ll still love me so beautifully when we see each other again. No matter what happens, never lose this innocence of yours, my dear.” speaking so softly, he put a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Why is a man so invested with a woman? Surely you realise I won’t be a Princess anymore when we next see each other. So...Why...Do you behave so differently from everyone else...?” she raised her eyebrow in naive confusion. “I imagine for you, this feeling would be foreign, but I didn’t lie when I said I wanted to spend my life with you. Now, should we seal this promise of ours?” he smiled softly at her, raising her face to gaze at him. “How...?” she asked in that sweet voice that sent shivers down his spine.

There was no need for an answer, for Lau slowly leaned in, capturing her lips softly, pulling her closer to him, before pulling apart and gazing into her eyes, seeing stars and love.

He had never seen such a pure and lovely person in his life, especially one to show him such warm and genuine emotions, and over these 5 years they spent together, his love and need to protect her only grew more and more.

He didn’t know how long he will have to be away from her, nor did he know if he was going to survive being a top official of Qing Bang, and more, quickly reaching up the ladder and being close to becoming the manager of the Shanghai trading company, and very soon, having to move to Great Britain and extend his influence there.

Lau’s life has always been unpredictable and dangerous, so until he somehow manages to settle in a more relaxed environment where he’s sure no assassin may attack or use her as bait or bribe, there was no way he could have her around any longer.

He was an ambitious man, he wanted to be so much more than a street rat, he wanted money, he wanted luxury and riches, he wanted the world, he wanted to indulge in sins...

He wanted everything.

And he WILL get everything.

---

While Lau was busy making a name for himself, the girl was forced to dance for her soon to be husband, who was nothing less than a lecherous scum of a human being.

She was fed up, she’s had enough of this life.

She was going to end it all.

She was finally going to take the reigns of her fate in her hands.

Nobody was going to control her anymore.

She followed the advice that her mother gave her on her deathbed, took her trusted servant with her, and ran away on a horse, disguising herself as a man and acting as a travelling healer.

She already had enough money at her, courtesy of her mother’s shrewdness, so for the rest 5 or so years, she lived peacefully with her servant in a decent home, working as a physician at a smaller palace.

But due to a series of unfortunate events, she was found out and she was Physician Yi no more, but a woman once again, who was not allowed to work as a healer. What was even worse, was that the Lord of the palace forced her to join his harem, otherwise she would get executed for treason, all while they killed her servant in an attempt to warn her.

But she wasn’t going to let men take control of her life again.

That night, she created a poison and dipped her hair pin needle in it, killing the guards that stood by the gate, leaving with her horse far, far away.

What she wasn’t expecting, however, was to arrive to a ship that was sailing to England, so she decided to change her fate completely, with no regrets, and see if maybe other continents, other countries, would treat her better.

The whole thing was a mess and the living conditions on the ship were horrible, but she wasn’t Princess Lianyi anymore, nor was she Physician Yi, so she couldn’t afford to complain, and nor she could afford to give any money away recklessly.

She arrived at what she would find out is called East End - London, where poor Oriental people would try to find work...But she wasn’t going to do any physical work. She wasn’t strong enough, she knew her strengths, and that wasn’t one, so she started searching around for physicians and doctors where she could work, of course, disguised as a man, but nobody would hire her without a proper license.

She was going to give up and look for an inn to rest at, when she stumbled upon a Mortician parlor, and thought it wouldn’t be too bad to work there - Better than nowhere, at least, so she knocked on the door, entering nervously.

She was met by a creepy laugh and a man with long silvery hair coming out of a coffin, grinning carefree at her, asking her what she was looking for, and as soon as the man heard she was looking for work, addressing to herself as a man, instead of a woman, he started laughing, which slightly freaked her out.

“Darling, I understand you had to worry about being a woman, out there, but here, you don’t have to hide anymore. I will hire you regardless. I have a spare room here, not that I was expecting to hire anyone, but it sure comes in handy.” he spoke in a low, playful voice, taking away the hat from her head and letting her beautiful, long, ebony hair cascade down her back. “Is it...Really no problem...At all...? No catch? Nothing? Just your heart’s kindness?” she asked in a broken English. “Hmm...I suppose I’ll have to teach you proper English, but that’s no problem at all. You see...I have a few special people that I know and I don’t charge them money, but something much more important in these grim days. It’s laughs. And dear, your attempt at imitating a man, no matter how cute that was, failed. I wonder if it failed because I already know a Chinese man...Who knows?” he giggled, lifting her face up to inspect her. “If you don’t want money, what do you want? And who’s this Chinese man that you’re speaking of?” she asked, hoping, at least for a second, that this is the fate Lau was talking about. “Tell me your story, and you won’t have anything to worry about. You, little mouse, piqued my interest. And the man I’m speaking of usually walks around a little guard dog...I’m sure he’ll come around sooner or later, and you’ll see him yourself.” he explained, intertwining his fingers together. “...I am Princess Lianyi, the Emperor’s and the Empress’ only child. I ran away from home 5 years ago when I got fed up with being used like a doll, married off and mistreated, only for political reasons, and I decided to pursue my dreams. However...I’m not sure if I can settle with only being a healer. I want to kill the Emperor for treating me that way, despite being his first child, and I want to kill his Consort and their daughter for poisoning my mother. If they are dead, then I can be Empress and nobody would dare pressure me again.” she spoke timidly, knowing very well that her ambitions were far beyond reason. “What a marvelous story! To think I’d find myself in the grace of a Princess with such dark ambitions! Hehehe, that’s rather amusing! Don’t worry, little mouse, I will help you with anything I can. You can wear any outfit you wish, it may bring some colour to this gloom place. After all, the beauty of life is like a blooming flower, isn’t it?” the Undertaker hummed, stroking a strand of her hair. “Pink Lotus...That’s what someone special used to call me...Never mind that. Thank you, Undertaker, for your kindness. I truly appreciate it.” she spoke in a soft voice, bowing slightly, not knowing the customs of this new place.

No matter that, however, for the Undertaker was there to teach her everything she needed, be it the language, the customs or medicine, which in this place was so different, yet incredibly efficient.

She quickly learnt of his connection with the underworld and how, before, he meant that people come to him to buy information and this was mostly a facade hobby of sorts.

The Undertaker, for some reason, never called her by her name, but by random nicknames, only using “Pink Lotus” when there was something more important, knowing how many emotions that would bring to her. He would, however, use “Physician Yi” when referring to her in public, not wanting to potentially give away her identity, but also, playfully mocking her 5 years of living as a man, which would greatly annoy the girl and would either glare at the silver haired man, or throw a dog biscuit at him.

Weeks and months passed rather fast and working for the mortician became a rather pleasant routine, until a certain dog bark disturbed their peace.

She was in the back, preparing a tray of tea, before fixing her pink outfit and gold hair accessories, and putting the tray in front of the Undertaker’s table, not sparing any glance for the new comers.

“Wonderful as usual, my dear. This is the guard dog I was telling you about. Isn’t he cute?” the silver haired man giggled, but she only glared at him, remaining silent. “I wouldn’t have expected you to hire Chinese servants who can’t speak English.” the midget smirked, irritating the girl, who cursed him in Chinese, barely audible. “Tiān nǎ (goodness gracious), how amusing!” the Chinese man chuckled dramatically. “What did she say?!” the dark haired child raised his voice impatiently. “Oh, I wonder...!” he smiled deviously, which made her raise her eyebrow at him in confusion. “Do you need me for anything else, Undertaker? Or can I go back to my work? I don’t fancy wasting time with meaningless things, like you.” she spoke in a harsh voice, looking down at him, like a true Empress would. “Well, I was thinking you could present our guests our newest case! As Physician Yi, I’m sure you’d find some joy in showing your expertise, wouldn’t you?” he teased, making the girl harden her glare. “How pathetic. Besides, why should I help them? Jack the Ripper case solved or not, there’s nothing in it for me, is it? I’m not here to do charity work.” she crossed her arms, scoffing. “Ohhh, I see! Then, darling, what is your price? Or do you want jewelry? Fine clothes? Just name it, and in exchange for your services, it’s all yours!” the Chinese man walked in front of her, grinning just like a fox. “Kill the Emperor for me, and I’ll tell you everything.” she matched his grin, her face glowing with a poisonous and fake innocence, leaving the man open his eyes in shock. “...Eh?” he managed to blurt out, certainly caught off guard. “HA! Never mind that, your dumb face was enough to pay me.” she laughed patronising, making the man stare at her in shock, not knowing what to say. “Gods, you’re just like him...” the kid muttered in annoyance. “If you don’t mind...All of the victims were female prostitutes and all of them had a missing, representative organ. If you haven't guessed by now, it's the uterus. It's been carefully taken away. One might conclude that, despite being few people on the streets at night, the culprit has at least the minimum anatomical knowledge, to perform such a clean and specific organ removal...In pitch black.” the girl explains simply and professionally, as if she wasn’t trash-talking them just a second earlier. "Very well, my dear Pink Lotus, you did your homework well~!” the Undertaker chuckled, making the girl hit his chair, making him fall off, in a fit of rage. “How many times must I tell you NEVER to call me that? You’re incurable.” she gritted her teeth in anger, before leaving the parlor.

What she wasn’t aware of was that, for a few seconds, the talk of the day was still about her.

“Why would you get such an irritating servant?” Ciel rolled his eyes in annoyance. “She’s not my servant, Earl. You could say she’s my little apprentice, but it was her who came so timidly at me, asking to be hired, since no one would hire a healer without a license. Poor thing, and she’s such a brilliant young girl.” the mortician commented with a vague smile on his face. “I would say, Young Lord, that you’re not as amiable as you think you are.” Lau teased the young boy, who gasped, offended. “What did you say?!” he glared at his associate with such hatred. “People who had bad things happen to them don’t act as they feel. You should know that by now, shouldn’t you?” he explained, extending his arms to his sides. “Does that mean that you know who she is or what she’s been through or what?” the dark haired child raised his eyebrow questioningly. “I have no clue.” Lau deadpanned, leaving everyone facepalming. “Undertaker, would it be too much to ask you to let me hire your little assistant for a week or 2? I promise I’ll bring her back home safe and there’s no underground business involved.” he averted his gaze to the Undertaker, his heart beating faster after seeing the girl. “If she accepts, who am I to come between the work of fate?” the man hinted, making Lau grin even wider.

It was all he needed to be sure that the girl that made a fool of him was actually the little Princess he loved so much. Oh, how she matured! Alas, she had to experience so many terrible things to make her so cold and harsh, unlike before!

But it’s no problem, he was going to heal her - After all, his little Pink Lotus mustn’t hold so much hatred towards the world! She should just be happy in indulge in anything that would make her smile! Let him bear the darkness of the world and worry about tomorrow.

---

After a bit of pushing from the Undertaker, seeing how uncertain she was, but she followed the man to his home, which she found out was above an underground opium den, which only made her even more reluctant to her next steps, but him putting his arm around her only made her feel a strange feeling of reassurance.

Is this Lau? Is this really HER Lau?

But what happened to him? His clothes changed...He even cut his hair...She wondered why would he have such short hair? And more, where his little sister would be?

She was afraid to ask anything, and was rather timid in replying to any of his trivial questions, until they got this his room, after he gave her a tour of the whole place, except the den, saying a lovely lady like her shouldn’t be exposed, at least right away, to drugs and dirty business.

“So, uhm...Why did you really call me here? I’m sure it wasn’t so you would give me a tour of your house or tell me what you do for a living.” she asked, shifting in place, not looking at him. “Why, my dear Pink Lotus, should I feel hurt that you don’t recognise me? Although, I have to say, so many years passed...And you became even more beautiful than before...I didn’t think that would be possible...Princess Lianyi.” he spoke in a low, fox-like voice, as he leaned down to her height, as she was so much smaller and delicate compared to him. “I...I did suspect it was you, but...Your hair...And Ran Mao...And...And your clothes...” she stammered over her words, looking down, her face warming up from emotion. “Only details, my dear. Besides, Ran Mao is here, at home, and she’s eager to see you as well. But until then, my darling, shouldn’t you tell me how much you missed me?” Lau grinned, extending his arms towards her, expecting a hug. “Did...You...Miss me...? Just like you said you would...?” she whispered, looking up at him with teary eyes, barely able to stop herself from jumping on him and never letting go. “You were on my mind every day so far.” he spoke gently, seeing her bottom lip quivering as she threw herself at him, holding him as tightly as her delicate arms could. “Don’t leave me again, Lau. It’s so terrible being alone, in such a huge world...” she managed to say, as she felt herself being picked up and gently laid on the bed. “I’m going nowhere, my dear. I made a promise with you, and my feelings haven’t changed. If anything, they’re more powerful than before.” he put a hand on her cheek, looking down at her, before putting his forehead to hers, while his other hand had his fingers intertwined with hers. “I love you so much, Lau...So much...I missed you...All this time you were away...” she closed her eyes briefly, as she felt his lips on hers, the electrifying feeling surging through her veins, just as it did the first time they kissed, many years ago. “Lianyi...Will you marry me? My life has been tied to the underworld for more years than I can remember, and no matter how much I want to keep you away from that, I can’t stay away from you. I’m no angel like you, and you deserve to be happy, but I can’t keep you away from all dangers and darkness.” he confessed, his voice serious, trying to bring her back to reality. “You...You’ve never called me by my name before...I...I would want nothing more than to stay by your side, no matter what. I don’t care what you’ve got yourself into, I just want to be with you. Yes, Lau, I’ll marry you, I’d love nothing more than to be able to stay in your arms and love you.” she put her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her in another kiss.

But just as they kissed again, the bedroom door opened, revealing Ran Mao looking at them with the same serene look as usual, making the princess push Lau to the side and throw herself at the girl that grew into such a fine, beautiful lady...But what the hell was she wearing...?!

“It’s nice to see you again, Lianyi.” she said, patting her back. “Ran Mao, goodness, I missed you so much...But what are you wearing?! Lau, why would you let her wear something so revealing?!” the princess freaked out, her face bright red in embarrassment. “This is the new fashion, my dear! Combining traditional with modern, we created the Cheongsam! All the girls below in the opium den are wearing it! It’s rather alluring, don’t you think?” Lau chuckled in amusement, putting his hands on her shoulders, resting his chin on her head. “But...But...But...” she stuttered, not knowing what to say. “We have one for you. It’s green with golden thread patterns, to highlight your eyes.” Ran Mao explained, going to fetch the dress, and seeing how short it was, the girl could feel her knees weakening. “I can’t wear that! That’s too revealing! Wh-What...W-Wait, Ran Mao, where are you pulling me?!” the girl pulled her in another room, alone, where she started quickly undressing her and helping her into the new dress, just a bit shorter than knee-length. “You’re beautiful. Now go, Lau is eager to see you.” Ran Mao dragged the flustered girl and pushed her back to the bedroom, as she could only hide her face in her hands. “My, my, what a gorgeous little Pink Lotus. Come here, my darling. I will show you how much I missed you.” Lau watched her shyly approach him, like a little lamb, before catching her wrists and putting her on his lap with the same teasing grin on his face. “This...This is so...Embarrassing...” she clutched her fingers on his messed up blouse as she hid her face in the crook of his shoulder. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever had the privilege of seeing in my life, Lianyi, and your shyness only makes you more endearing...It only makes me want you more. You managed to keep the same sweet and pure innocence, just as I thought you would...Wǒ ài nǐ  (I love you) , my dear Pink Lotus Princess.” he spoke, slowly tracing her legs, making his way up to her sides, her arms, before touching her face and bringing her in for a more passionate kiss that sent fire through her system. "I love you so much, Lau. I don’t care what you’ve got yourself into, but I will always stay by your side. Forever. I want to help you and support you with anything I can, just as you did for me.” she confessed, her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her. “How would you feel helping me with the girls? That’s the least risky thing I can let you handle. But nonetheless, it would let us spend more time together, if that is what you truly wish.” he smiled vaguely, planting more and more kisses all over her face. “That would make me very happy.” she smiled, letting herself get lost in the warmth and love she felt, feeling their hearts beating so fast and in sync, as if they were one.

Who would have thought that fate would play such an important role in their life...They fought it, they escaped fate, only to let destiny reunite them both, just as the red string of fate would always bring them back together, nothing able to stop them.

Finally, they were in control of their own life.

They were together.