#MY POINTS that very rarely do i see fics talk about how fighting certain enemies works and fitting that into the world building bc sometime

[saetoru]

i think im enjoying writing this fic bc i feel like most fics talk about the lore and world building in genshin but very few of the ones i have read have ever rly talked about the actual elements and reactions and the fighting mechanics and its fun in a story setting vs a play setting

[crystalirises]

If You Had to Choose...

Hello! So I finally continued one of the AUs that I had... so, have this fic. Hope you guys like it! :D

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29882280

The fic is also down below if y’all don’t want to open it on ao3.

Note: This is a sort of related to my other fic “Did He Ever Love Me?” but you don’t need to read that to understand this.

“A bit of a revolutionary, si?”

Fundy flinched, darting to hide behind one of the marble columns that decorated the outside of the courthouse. He hadn’t meant to pry, hadn’t meant to intrude on such serious matters, but he couldn’t help but wonder what it was Schlatt and his dad were talking about. Fundy peered around the corner, spotting Quackity a few feet in front of him, an amused grin on the duck hybrid’s face as he made his way towards Fundy. His tail bristled, a low growl bubbling from his throat. Quackity paused, raising a placating hand to show that he wasn’t there to do anything. He still kept his distance, unsure if he was even allowed to interact with Quackity. Wilbur might have a huge fit if he did. Fundy’s eyes narrowed as Quackity slowly shuffled closer, the distance between them growing smaller with each step the man took. Fundy allowed it… for now.

“I wouldn’t call him revolutionary, neither of you even belong here.” It was harsh, Fundy knew that, but he couldn’t help but feel bitter for his dad. “You never even fought for L’Manburg!”

“Does that stop me or Schlatt from trying now?” Fundy pouted at the question, any passion that he had on the subject quickly melting away as Quackity met him head on. It wasn’t like Fundy cared much for the current elections, he already knew who he was voting for anyway. He winced as Quackity leaned against the pillar he hid behind, wishing that the duck hybrid would leave him alone. His dad stressed enough as it was, he didn’t need to be worried about the idea of Fundy conspiratoring with the enemy. His ears drooped as he recalled the time Tommy publicly disowned him, his dad having to step in the moment the news began to spread around the country. A bitter sense of injustice rose in his chest. The only reason people were considering Schlatt was because Tommy kept making public spectacles. “You’ve heard their debate一”

“I don’t see your point. Schlatt doesn’t have a vice president, he barely has a plan, and the only thing he has is his charms and wit. My dad has both. He also has a vice president and he fought for L’Manburg. He’s an esteemed general! What does Schlatt have? A business school degree?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes at the thought of Schlatt beating his dad. The people would have to be dumb to even trust Schlatt with their lives much less the country, which was essentially the same thing. He heard Quackity laugh, a noise that grated against Fundy’s nerves. “What? Scared that your candidate is going to lose so you have to bribe other people into voting for him?”

“I don’t have to do anything, man. Schlatt doesn’t need help to win… unlike Wilbur.”

“Watch your damn mouth.” He snarled, nearly letting out his claws at the sheer audacity. Fundy had been minding his own business, and then Quackity decided to come along and argue with him. Fundy let out a huge breath of air. He couldn’t afford to start a fight, not when people were watching. It would look horrible if Wilbur couldn’t even control his fox hybrid son. “I don’t want to hear it, Quackity. There’s nothing you can say or do that would get me to believe you.”

“I don’t have to say anything. You’ve heard Schlatt speak.” There was a smug look on the duck hybrid’s face as he nodded towards the slightly open door of the courthouse. Fundy frowned, moving away from the pillar to stand beside Quackity - even if he did feel like he was betraying his dad by doing so. “There’s a reason I stepped down, man. A reason why I support Schlatt.”

It was a far cry to a front row seat of the action, but even from outside the court they could hear the debate, or at least Fundy could with his sensitive fox ears. He could hear the two men going at it, arguing about what sounded like the walls that surrounded L’Manburg. Fundy was ashamed to admit that he preferred some of what Schlatt said to that of his dad’s. The debate had begun hours ago and was meant to come to an end with this one last argument. Fundy had waited by the door since the very beginning, listening and coming to his own opinions of the topics discussed. Fundy shivered, tail wrapping around his leg as he wondered how long Quackity had noticed his eavesdropping. Unlike Quackity, Fundy wasn’t meant to be anywhere near the court. He’d get the transcripts of the debate at the same time as everyone else, weird as that procedure might be.

“Wilbur threatened me to stop running, you know?”

“My dad wouldn’t do that.”

Quackity gave him a side glance, pity dancing in those dark black eyes. Fundy curled his hands into fists, humiliated to think that even his dad’s political rival saw him as nothing more than a naive child. He’d fought for his country too. But would history even mention his name as anything more than the First President of L’Manburg’s son? Fundy didn’t want to think about it too much. Besides… surely the people would remember him… they had to, right?

“There are rumors, man… Wilbur threatened you too, didn’t he?” He felt a sharp spike of fear strike his chest. Who the actual fuck were telling these bullshit stories to people? “It’s true, si?”

“If someone’s tarnishing my dad’s reputation, you better tell me who they are right now, Quackity.” Fundy gritted his teeth, keeping the seething anger from his voice. “Who the fuck一”

“But is it true?”

He couldn’t help but flinch as Quackity asked again. It wasn’t true. His dad would never actually harm Fundy, it was just… Wilbur really wanted to be president. Fundy averted his gaze to the ground, Schlatt’s voice ringing in his ears as the debate continued on inside. Quackity moved closer, bright yellow engulfing Fundy vision as Quackity raised his wings around both of them in a pitiful attempt of comfort. His throat felt dry. He was never threatened to back down… but…

“He told me not to run.”

‘It had started as a funny joke really, okay not really. Fundy had felt Wilbur’s absence even more the moment his dad began to pour himself into the election. He didn’t know why, it wasn’t like the people would vote for anyone else other than Wilbur. It had been stupid at the time, a ploy more than anything, to jokingly say at the dinner table that he wanted to run for presidency too.

He heard the newspaper crinkle before he saw the look on his dad’s face. Fundy had been picking at his food, too tired to put any energy into eating the slightly burnt meal that he had rushed to cook before Wilbur woke up. Wilbur rarely ate at home and... Fundy understood that his dad was very busy. He understood! So, for Fundy it was either learn how to cook or not eat at all. Wilbur had decided to stay a bit longer than usual, but he chose to drink a cup of coffee than have any of the food that Fundy had made. Watching his dad read the newspaper and ignore him - not even a ‘good morning’! - made him feel a simmer of anger that he didn’t know he had. He hadn’t been thinking when he suddenly spoke. He just wanted his dad to look up for once.

“I was thinking of running…” Fundy had sighed at the burnt loaf of bread that decorated his bread, wishing that he could anything else but what he had cooked for that day. Wilbur had hummed, pretending to listen as he moved onto the next page of the newspaper. Fundy pursed his lips, gripping the edge of the table as he leaned a little bit forward. “... for the presidency.”

He heard the crinkle, the sharp intake of breath. Fundy felt sweat beading down the sides of his neck. It was spur of the moment thing to say. He didn’t want to run for anything… but it got his dad’s attention. Fundy slowly looked up, trying to steel himself against his father’s sudden onslaught of attention. Wilbur stared at him from across the table, newspaper discarded as a dawning look of fear swam in his dad’s dark brown eyes. Fundy didn’t understand what Wilbur had to fear. Nobody knew Fundy. Even if Fundy were to run, who would even vote for him?

“Oh…” It was soft, below even a whisper that Fundy had to strain his ears to hear it. Wilbur slowly stood up, hands shaking by his sides as he moved. “Why would you… why, Funds?”

“Because I want to…?” He winced, knowing that he was sounding more like a brat with each word. His dad didn’t need another added stress, not when there were rumours of a certain duck hybrid vying for the presidency. Wilbur sighed, kneeling next to Fundy as he reached out a hand to hold him by the shoulder. Wilbur used his other hand to cup his cheek, tilting his head up as if to urge Fundy to look him in the eyes. Fundy felt nervous under such scrutiny, especially when Wilbur was looking more worried instead of appalled or angered. Fundy had expected outrage the moment those fateful words slipped past his lips, but Wilbur looked frightened more than anything. Fundy held onto Wilbur’s wrist, ears pressed against the top of his head. “Dad…?”

“Do you have a vice president? An endorsement? A plan?” Fundy felt his face heat up as Wilbur continued to interrogate him. No, Fundy didn’t have a single one of those things. Wilbur eventually stopped, sighing, “You can’t run for presidency, son. I… I won’t allow it.”

“What? Why not?” He didn’t know why he cared, he didn’t even care at all until Wilbur said he couldn’t. “Why? Don’t think I can’t handle the responsibility, huh? I am perfectly capable一”

“I know! I know! I trust you! You would be a great president, and someday you will be.”

“Okay, when you say ‘someday’ is that final or…?” Fundy knew that he’d be a shitty president and, in all honesty, he didn’t want to run an entire  country by himself. “I have other plans…”

“Ooooh, you can be anything you want, Fundy! Anything is perfectly fine with me.” Wilbur stood up before pulling him into a warm embrace. Fundy nearly yipped, managing to hold back. No way in hell he was going to actually act so childishly in front of his dad! Although he tried to move his way out of the hug, his tail betrayed the joy that he felt as it wagged against the chair. Wilbur chuckled before a sad look appeared in his dad’s eyes. “You can be anything you want. L’Manburg gives you the freedom to be anything, Funds. Anything you want to be, go for it.”

“Well, why can’t I be the president then? You said you trusted me, so, why not?”

Wilbur sighed, running a hand through Fundy’s hair before settling on to pet his ears. Fundy didn’t need to hear the answer. He knew. Wilbur had a faraway look in his eyes, the arm around Fundy’s shoulders pulling him closer as though Wilbur was assuring himself that Fundy was there. Fundy wrapped his arms around his dad, burying his into the white shirt of his uniform. It was always odd how Wilbur would always ensure that he had a long coat on, even if he was inside the comforts of his home, Wilbur never dared to take off his coat. “The world isn’t ready yet, not with those monsters still prowling. We’re lucky to have founded a country where you could grow up and live freely, but it’s still too soon. Someday, if you want to be president, then I’ll do everything I can to get you there. But not now, okay? Just let me handle it for now, hm?”

“Whatever, dad.” Fundy moved away before Wilbur started crying or getting sadder than he already was. His dad seemed happy with the conversation ending as he had moved to go back to his seat. Fundy knew he shouldn’t have tried to provoke a reaction out of his dad, not when… oh fuck. “Um… dad, don’t you have like a campaign speech to practice一”

“AND I’M LATE, OH FUC一 I’ll see you at dinner, okay son?”

“Bye, dad. Love y一”

Anddd… Wilbur was out the door before Fundy could say goodbye... Nothing new at all.’

“Wow, man. That sucks.”

“Thank you, that really helps.”

Quackity snorted, wings folding back as he moved a bit farther away from him. Fundy hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting Quackity at all before, slightly surprised by the man’s outgoing and easy nature. He didn’t seem like president material, at least he couldn’t see it from the way Quackity presented himself. Then again, looks can be deceiving. You think you know a guy but then one day they lead you to a cramped and dank hole where you’re ambushed and left to die.

“I didn’t want to run for president either.” His head snapped up, watching as Quackity kicked a loose pebble down the courthouse steps. “I did it because somebody had to. It was our chance!”

“Our chance?” Fundy raised a brow, running a hand through his hair as he did. He had an inkling of what Quackity meant by that. He still didn’t get it though. “You ran because… huh???”

“We might have had the first hybrid president in all the servers. We still might, but with Schlatt!”

“But the hunters…” Fundy shivered, tales of what they did to people like them resurfacing to the front of his mind. Wilbur had been adamant to tell those stories to him every night since he was a kit, instilling the deep sense of fear in him of what might happen if he ever left the safety of L’Manburg’s walls. Sure people within L’Manburg were still weary and occasionally taunted him, but at least he wasn’t going to be killed by any of them. “They’re out there, and if they一”

“How is this supposed to be a nation of freedom if we continue to live in fear?”

“We should at least be cautious!” 

“Taking a quote from your old man, eh?”

“I’m not一” Fundy growled in frustration, claws threatening to come out if Quackity so much as tried to speak up again. Fine. Quackity wanted to play his stupid little game? Then fine! Fundy will be a fucking pawn if that’s what Quackity wanted him to be. Anything to finish this. “Okay, let’s entertain your stupid idea for a minute. Why Schlatt? What makes you think an old drunk asshole is going to be a great president? You think he could protect us when the time comes?”

“Yes. And you want to know why, man?” Fundy jumped as Quackity’s wings flared up, crowning his figure with gold. “Because unlike Wilbur, he isn’t a coward. He’s faced hunters.”

“That old drunk has faced hunters and lived to tell the tale?” Fundy quirked a brow. Yeah, that actual bullshit. “You think I’m going to believe that, Quackity? That is the most ridiculous一”

“He’s a successful businessman, Fundy.” It wasn’t anything of worth really, not to the average person. But it was something for them. “Besides, you’re not here to listen to Wilbur. I know.”

Fundy could hardly deny that. After all, he already knew his dad’s plan (or at least the ones he’s disclosed to him). So why had he come? Why bribe Tubbo to leave the door slightly open so Fundy could sneak a few glances? Because it was a spectacle. Unprecedented. Quackity’s sudden announcement that he was running for presidency had caught Fundy’s attention too, and now here was another hybrid come to try and gain the people’s favor. It was surprising. Fundy wanted Wilbur to win, but… Wilbur was his dad, of course he’d Fundy would always pick Wilbur.

“You know, he’s going to pick you for vice president.” Fundy’s voice was steady as he spoke, catching the duck hybrid off guard as Fundy turned to glance at him. “Schlatt wants to focus more on hybrid rights and freedom for his administration. You’d be an excellent vice president.”

Quackity barely had time to react or even respond before the courthouse door flung open. Wilbur, Tommy, and Tubbo were the first to leave. There was a pale look on his dad’s face, a worry that sent a chill down Fundy’s spine. Schlatt had said something, didn’t he? Enough to scare his dad, at least. Tommy was ranting by Wilbur’s side, prattling on about how Schlatt was terrible and horrible and every other insult the kid could hurl at the ram hybrid. Tubbo trailed along, giving Fundy a small wave as the trio walked past him and Quackity. Fundy tried to ignore the pang of pain he felt as his dad didn’t cast a single glance in his direction. His dad was busy, stressed. He probably couldn’t afford to look at Fundy, wouldn’t want to worry him and all that. Still, Fundy wished his dad had at least paused to say hello, or at least acknowledged him.

“Hey, Quacks and kid” His tail bristled, ears twitching as he turned around to come face to face with Schlatt. The man had a smirk on his face, a calm and collected stance as he continually flipped a golden coin into the air. Quackity gave the ram hybrid a huge grin, babbling about how it was ‘me gusta’. Fundy tried to sneak away as they spoke but then those golden hue eyes turned to look at him. “Where the fuck are my manners, I’m Jebediah Schlatt. What’s your name, kid?”

“Fundy.” He looked down at Schlatt’s outstretched hand, too afraid to reach out and properly shake it. It would feel like making a deal with the devil. Okay, that was rude. “Fundy Soot.”

Fundy did try to shake Schlatt’s hand, but the man had moved away, his eyes widening a bit. Schlatt stared at him for an entire minute, surprise flicking in the ram hybrid’s eyes as his gaze looked at what Fundy could only assume was his ears… unless Schlatt was looking at something behind him. Fundy shifted, glancing over at Quackity who didn’t seem all that concerned that Schlatt was just staring at him as if Fundy had fallen from the sky. It took a while but Schlatt averted his gaze, muttering something beneath his breath as he took a hesitant step back. Fundy nearly screamed as Schlatt looked up at him again, this time, pity swirling in his golden eyes. Why the fuck was everyone looking at him like that? It was annoying and weird. “Soot… huh...”

“Ya… Please don’t ever mention me in front of Wilbur. He doesn’t like you.”

“That breaks my heart, kid. That breaks my heart.”

Schlatt rolled his eyes, muttering underneath his breath again before looking over at Quackity. “As much as I’d love to discuss how... “ Schlatt looked him up and down, utterly baffled by Fundy’s mere existence. “... the fuck Wilbur had you, I need to speak to Quackity.” Fundy was only glad when Schlatt linked his arm to Quackity’s, pulling the duck hybrid down the steps before Quackity could mutter a single word. He thought it was over, but then Schlatt stopped.

The ram hybrid glanced back up at him, the smug smirk on his lips not really matching his eyes. “I can tell that Wilbur doesn’t allow you to do much of anything, huh kid? Aren’t you tired?”

“Life’s easier.” Fundy internally winced. He didn’t know why he was admitting that to Schlatt of all people. “It’s a dad thing, you wouldn’t get it.”

Schlatt frowned, “I guess not.”

“He’s... just protective.”

“He’s a control freak.” Schlatt rolled his eyes. “And I can tell you don’t believe your own words either, kid. So stop lying to yourself, you’re only making it worse.”

Fundy refused to respond, wrapping his arms around his chest as his eyes narrowed into thin slits. Schlatt shrugged, muttering underneath his breath once more. 

“Win or lose, kid. You’re going to do great things for this country, I can tell.”

Fundy wasn’t sure if that was sarcasm or not.

Schlatt chuckled, shaking his head as he gave Fundy one last smile. “And… uh, if you see Tubbo, tell him Schlatt said hi.”

“Why the fuck would I一”

And Schlatt was walking away, wow.

Fundy ran a hand through his hair, confused after everything. He shouldn’t be. The answer was simple. Vote for his dad, that was all Wilbur expected from him. So what was he meant to do now? He felt himself slowly sink down to sit at the steps, sighing as he thought about it. Wilbur wouldn’t know… His dad wouldn’t know what he’d done. He doubted that it would matter, people would pick Wilbur and Fundy would be one of only two people who chose to vote for Schlatt. Everyone would laugh at Schlatt and his dad would be L’Manburg’s first official president. It was okay. His dad would never even know about Fundy’s betrayal. He’d never know. Fundy would make sure of that.

“I suggest reconsidering.”

Fundy nearly tripped down the stairs. He knew that voice.

He snuck a glance behind him, catching a glance of a familiar porcelain mask staring at him from behind a column. A bit of the man’s green sweater sleeve poked out from the side, granting Fundy a momentary look at the man who plagued his nightmares. He could still hear the explosions, the screaming… the way Wilbur had tried to shield Fundy, Tubbo, and Tommy from dying that fateful day. Now here was the man himself, speaking to him as though they were on speaking terms. 

“Why the hell do you care?”

Dream tilted his side, the painted smile eerily staring at him from the shadows. 

It was difficult to think that Dream was his age, difficult to think how such a monster could ever have a childhood. Fundy curled closer into himself, hoping that someone would notice and come to his aid. He didn’t know why Dream was there, but it never ended well with him. The last time Fundy saw Dream, he died, painfully. Fundy shivered, hand settling over the long scar that littered the front of his chest.

“Schlatt was exiled for a reason. I exiled him for a reason.”

Fundy’s heart froze as Dream suddenly walked out, moving closer until he was practically standing right next to him.

“Remember…”

The same tilt of the head again, a hint of a smirk appearing briefly in the man’s tone.

“Sometimes… all it takes is one choice to change history.”

Fundy couldn’t say anything, for the moment he blinked.

Dream was gone.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Fundy could barely bring himself to breath.

He couldn’t bring himself to watch as his dad and Tommy were hunted down and chased out of the country.

Schlatt’s cackling ringed in his ears.

Now…

Now… he understood what Dream meant.

“POG2020 got 44% of the votes… and SWAG2020 got 46% of the votes!”

It wasn’t his fault… no, that would be stupid.

But…

As he heard the cries of his country’s people…

He couldn’t help but wonder if it was.

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So... yeah... hope you guys liked it! This is meant to be an ambiguous situation so it’s up to interpretation (for now) about who’s in the right here or who is in the wrong. But yeah... that’s all bye! :D

[secret-engima]

Hi! Do you take request? If yes please can you do nyx,titus,cor,chocobro alpha x omega reader, how they react to their s/o being in danger.

*tilts head* *tilts head other way* I ... have never actually been given a request before so I have no idea if I take them or not. But this doesn’t breech the no M-rated stuff rule so ... I guess I’ll give it a shot? Let it be known I have never done a Reader Fic in my entire life so I have zero clue what I’m doing. I’m gonna swap who is the alpha and who’s the omega in these depending on what I think the canon half would be so just assume the Reader is the opposite thing. Also non-conventional a/b/o dynamics inbound.

Nyx (Alpha)

-Depending on the danger, reactions vary from warning growls/teeth bared in a “smile” and possessive one-armed hugs to out and out Murder™.

-If the danger is some other alpha trying to strong-arm/use their scent to intimidate S/O into dating, hugging, or otherwise interacting, Nyx will saunter over there with a laziness that is purely predatory, wrap an arm around his SO’s waist and not so subtly shift his S/O behind him while flaring his own scent (which is wayyyy more powerful than your regular non-Galahdian). He’ll bare his teeth in what ... MIGHT be mistaken as a smile if the other person is drunk, drugged, AND blind, a low rumble in his chest that promises blood if the other alpha doesn’t Beat It Right Now and will say something deceptively polite like “It’s rude not to take ‘no’ for an answer, you know that?” After the threat is gone, he’ll let go of S/O and apologize for touching without permission, then huff and gently purr when S/O huddles into his arms again in thanks.

-Side note: Nyx gives awesome comfort hugs post-danger, very warm and strong.

-If the danger is something like a monster, a daemon, or a Nif enemy of some sort, Nyx forgoes all words and jumps right to Murder™. There is much snarling as Nyx warps in, warps S/O out of the danger zone, then whirls around and bounds back in himself to finish the threat.

-Also will probably show off his warping/magic skills while brutally killing the Thing that put S/O in danger because his alpha instincts like to Flaunt for his mate.

-After successfully murdering the Thing, Nyx will come over and fuss like crazy over S/O, checking for injuries (and then fussing over any injuries with whatever potions he has on hand, heedless of his own wounds) and gently pressing his forehead against S/O’s in relief when finally reassured that everything is fine. After being bullied by S/O into treating his OWN injuries, he’ll try to take S/O somewhere safe for Cuddles. If cuddles are not available, he’ll give S/O a hopeful, slightly mischievous look that means he wants to kiss, but is waiting for permission like always because he’s sat through more than enough rants on Libertus’s part on people needing to respect Omega boundaries more. S/O will usually pull him into a kiss by his shirt collar at this point.

...

Titus (Alpha)

-Much more restrained then most, which is funny because his overprotective instincts are through the freaking roof.

-If S/O is being harassed by a citizen of Lucis, Titus will come over, face fixed in a cold mask and forcibly insert himself into the confrontation, physically standing between S/O and the threat like a shield with his arms crossed and zero expression on his face to give away who is growling like thunder and death (read: Titus is, he is also restraining the urge to hospitalize this person only because that will mean paperwork and paperwork will mean more time away from Reader). Titus doesn’t bother to say anything to the harasser, just lets his scent unfurl, heavy and crushing and his growl do all the talking for him so by the time his lip curls to reveal just the slightest hint of teeth the other alpha will bolt with a yip of terror. Of course by that point Titus has memorized their face and can and will report them to the police branch of the Crownsguard for harassment charges.

-Will then turn around, expression softening, and ask if S/O is alright and unharmed. No matter how many times S/O glomps him in a hug, Titus is always surprised by it, but will gently wrap one arm around Reader (keeping the other free to fend off any new threats because Paranoid Alpha). Will escort Reader home and only allow himself a kiss once he’s certain S/O has calmed down and won’t feel intimidated by being touched by an alpha who is so much freaking taller than the Reader.

-If the threat is Actual Danger (monster, daemon, Nif, terrorist), Titus gives no warning and takes no prisoners. He will crash into the danger with the force of a truck, possibly using warp to gain momentum (which is rare because this man hates warping) and will only roar/unfurl his scent AFTER he’s gotten his first good hit in. Will forcibly drive or lead the threat away from S/O before killing it dead, then run back to S/O covered in whatever blood or gore or machine bits went flying from when he went ham on the enemy to make sure his mate is alright.

-Will proceed to pick up S/O bridal style, uncaring of how dirty he’s making S/O, and carry the Reader to safety, growling under his breath the entire time and PROBABLY lecturing S/O on being reckless depending on how S/O got to be in that situation (he’s the Captain of the Glaive, lectures on idiocy is basically an ingrained habit now). Only after S/O has been moved somewhere safe and Titus is SURE that S/O is unharmed (or has gotten medical treatment) will his shoulders relax and he’ll dare to nuzzle his mate’s neck, kissing the pulse point before whispering for S/O not to scare him like that again.

...

Cor (Omega)

-For being an Omega, this boy has Zero Chill. Omegas are supposed to see to the wellbeing of their Pack, which usually is interpreted as being the housekeeper/healer/etc. To Cor’s brain, this translates to “Kill Everything Bothering S/O, Then S/O’s Wellbeing Is Assured”.

-Can, will, and has hospitalized people for harassing Reader, which is ... hilarious when considering S/O is the alpha in this scenario and so “traditionally” doesn’t need to be defended. Cor doesn’t care. That’s HIS Alpha, touch and you will be stabbed repeatedly. Regis is a Despair but who cares about Regis, Cor as an S/O to fuss over.

-Once the person bothering S/O has been thoroughly blindsided by 100+ pounds of Pure Spite cannoning into them, being punched in the sensitive places and then probably stabbed in several non-lethal spots (or just had their bones broken by Cor’s bare hands if he doesn’t want to get blood on his outfit), Cor will whip around, ignoring the screaming/groaning/maybe unconscious person on the ground and stalk over to S/O, visibly scanning/scenting for injuries or distress before huffing and dragging his mate away from the scene of the maybe-murder, speed dialing the hospital (at this point there’s probably a special number to call just for when Cor goes ham on some moron) and reporting the location before hanging up and Fussing over his S/O.

-Will only calm down when S/O sighs and pulls him into a kiss. If they are in Cor’s apartment by this point, this tends to escalate quickly into a make-out session that finally burns off Cor’s energy enough for him to be sorta kinda Chill. He will still lurk nearby for there next few hours, making sure S/O is in his sightline at all times and is un-distressed.

-If S/O is in genuine danger (say, as a Kingsglaive on the field? Or just wrong place wrong time) then all of those dumb, reckless urges that led to Cor Throwing Hands with Gilgamesh and Adamantoise and earning his title as Immortal? Yeah all of those come roaring to the forefront.

-No monster, daemon, or enemy combatant has known terror until they’re up against 6′3″ of pure Cor Protective (murder) Instinct. No, Cor doesn’t care if his S/O can fight and POSSIBLY kick his tail on the training grounds 3 out of 7 times and keep up with him the other 4, that is HIS MATE. NO TOUCH.

-Honestly at this point S/O is probably used to being kissed by a bloody Cor and then dragged off somewhere to be Fussed At (fussing for Cor includes wrapping S/O in all available blankets, giving S/O a potion even if there are no injuries, and then aggressively making the one (1) dish Weskham ever successfully taught Cor and giving it to S/O because food is comfort and blankets are comfort and S/O was in danger so S/O must be comforted with food and blankets.

-This is actually the best time to talk Cor into cuddles, because usually he ... dislikes cuddling (what if a threat comes, he won’t be able to react in time-) but after a fight like this, S/O can look sad and make soft cuddle noises and Cor will give in.

...

Gladio (Alpha)

-Will approach anyone harassing S/O and punch them in the face. No warning, no questions, just a good old sock to the face and a flare of angry alpha scent. Will then pin harasser against the wall and growl in their face to Mind Their Manners Around Omegas shove them down the street and kick them in the butt as they stumble away.

-Threat dealt with, Gladio will immediately soften, turn around and ask if S/O is okay and if Gladio needs to catch up to the harasser and do more damage. Is usually delighted and easily calmed down when S/O hugs his arm and kisses him in thanks.

-Note this does not apply to anyone who has actually TOUCHED S/O while bothering the Reader. If touching has happened then Gladio will pull a Cor and apologize to his dad for the scandal later.

-Will probably take his S/O to lunch or dinner or something after the incident to make Reader feel better.

-Actual Danger will be met with an angry/scared yell of S/O’s name and Gladio throwing himself between whatever it is and the Reader because Shield Instincts. Will snarl and roar to try to scare off the attacker and will only come out of a defensive position once he’s sure S/O has fled to a safer place, then he’ll attack. If S/O is a fighting type and joins in, Gladio will consistently place himself between the enemy and S/O or serve as the tank, drawing attention until it’s dead.

-After it’s dead, he checks for injuries and then either flexes his muscles and cracks a joke about being the gallant knight without armor to break the tension (if S/O isn’t a fighter) or grin and mention that having an S/O who can kick so much tail is very hot (if S/O is combat capable).

-Will kiss S/O before leading the Reader away to a safer area, after which big bear hug cuddles are definitely going to happen because he might act suave but internally his nerves are shot.

...

Ignis (Omega)

-You have one warning to leave S/O alone if you’re the poor soul bothering Ignis’s mate and that is Ignis stalking smoothly over with his scent fully suppressed and asking “Is there is a problem here, S/O?”

-If S/O says yes, then Ignis will firmly insert himself in the situation and either verbally browbeat the harasser into leaving or lead S/O away with a sharp look.

-Your features have already been memorized, prepare to have harassment charges filed against you and, if touching was involved in any way, your entire life discreetly ruined.

-Ignis is Scary™ okay? He’s an Omega and he has dealt with his fair share of harassment from people he couldn’t physically harm, so he’s learned to get vengeance discreetly and brutally.

-Once away from the problem, Ignis will turn to S/O and gently ask if Reader is okay, if Reader needs anything, if Reader wants him to call the police Right Now, if-.

-Reader will very softly kiss Ignis and Ignis will quiet before sighing and whisking S/O away to his apartment for a cooking spree and probably a very mellow cuddle/kissing session on the couch.

-Actual Mortal Danger results in Ignis charging in, shouting S/O’s name and yeeting his flaming dagger at something. The other dagger will be used to cut through the danger’s throat while it screams over the flaming knife in one eye because Ignis is basically a butler assassin over here and he’s Not Happy. Will then collect his daggers by pulling them straight into armiger, grab S/O’s arm and RUN. Will lead S/O to a safe area, briefly check for injuries, and then attempt to go back to yeet magic flasks at whatever threatened his mate. Can be talked out of this, but only sometimes.

-After danger is either dead, escaped from, or has left, Ignis will drop his usual restraint and kiss S/O senseless because DON’T SCARE HIM LIKE THAT.

...

Prompto (Omega)

-Is not brave enough to punch anyone in the face, but loves S/O and so will insert himself into a situation and try to sound more intimidating than he is as he tells any harasser to leave his S/O alone. This is usually the point when the harasser switches attention to Prompto, because a nervous Prompto is a Prompto leaking Omega scent everywhere, and then gets their face mauled by the usually laidback alpha S/O that had been stubbornly ignoring the troublemaker. Prompto will blush profusely over S/O thanking him for the rescue because, well, S/O did the rescuing in his eyes, but will hyper-focus on making sure S/O is okay and unharmed and oh no your knuckles are bleeding from punching that moron lemme pull out some bandages-.

-For all his shy skittishness when trying to fend off idiots that can’t take no for an answer, Actual Danger will turn Prompto into a little lion. He’ll charge in, shout at S/O to Get Down and then unleash his arsenal. Grenades, bazooka, machine gun, bio-blaster, probably a few things that are just this shade of illegal that Noctis pretends not to notice in his armiger and then finally a sharpshoot pistol bullet to the eye/optic of whatever was being a threat.

-After thoroughly and totally steam-rolling the threat, Prompto reverts to being his usual, alarmed, concerned self, running over to S/O and checking for hurts and being ... frankly stunned by the awed look S/O is giving him because what? What happened? (Prompto was epic beyond all words is what happened). Will squeak when S/O pulls him in for a very passionate kiss/maybe make-out session before Prompto can come up for air and mumble that they should PROBABLY get off the battlefield before doing this?

-Prompto will never admit to finding it very hot that he is the one bridal carried off the field even though he was the one doing all the rescuing.

...

Noctis (Omega)

-Noctis is a prince. As a prince, he is taught to behave in certain ways. Like not picking fights with people and maintaining his manners, saying his pleases and thank yous.

-Therefore if someone is bothering S/O, Noctis will say “Please Gladio go punch that person repeatedly in the face, thank you.” and while Gladio takes delight in doing just that, Noctis will take S/O by the arm and lead Reader away, while asking under his breath if Reader is alright and all but vibrating from suppressing his Omega scent so as to avoid attention.

-He is also already texting Ignis a picture of the person’s face and telling Ignis to socially ruin this person for TOUCHING THE ROYAL S/O. Yes he keeps that on the down low from the media but that is no excuse. Vengeance must be taken.

-Actual Danger will lead to (depending on timeline), Noctis warping in with a loud feral shriek and flare of scent as he stabs the Thing with a sword, warping in and murdering the thing with his Armiger, or straight up summoning Ramuh from the heavens to Smite The Thing That Dared Touch His S/O.

-S/O finds it oddly romantic that Noctis would summon an actual primordial being just to defend his mate.

-After the Thing is thoroughly dead (and if a summon was involved, Ramuh has put Noctis and S/O back on the ground with a grandfatherly wink) will angrily yell for Ignis so Iggy can check for injuries and will brood furiously (worriedly) off to the side with his teeth bared at nothing and his scent roiling until he is given the all clear. Will continue to brood until S/O rolls eyes and kisses him because seriously you’re the prince, you can kiss your mate if you want to you know that right?

-Will be clingy but will try his hardest to hide this fact beneath a veneer of calm and disinterest until the other bros are elsewhere before wrapping his arms tight around his S/O and shaking because Don’t Scare Him Like That Again. Please.

-S/O will hug back and murmur soothing nothings until Noctis has stopped shaking and no longer looks like a wrong word will fracture him. He’s already lost so much, he won’t survive losing S/O too.

[ohhpersephone]

I know it’s almost March and I probably should have done this sooner, but I didn’t think about it so I’m doing it now! Here’s a mostly complete list of things that I wrote in 2019! I’ll put it below the cut so I don’t spam anyone, but if you’re interested in any of the following, click the cut :)

My Hero Academia - Bakugo/Midoriya

Harry Potter - Draco/Harry

Good Omens - Aziraphale/Crowley

Person of Interest - Finch/Reese

Poetry!

Personal Essays touching on humor! lesbians! mental illness! An argument for rereading books! Why fic is important!

POETRY

Poetry Tumblr Poetry Instagram

FIC

Good Omens

you had your soul with you Rating: General Audiences Wordcount: 3,339 Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Fluff, with a little demonic angst

After the world is supposed to end but doesn't, Crowley and Aziraphale have a conversation about a certain book of prophecy.

back in your body Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Not Rated Wordcount: 2,336 Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Light Angst, Coda

Looking at the bookshop and drinking scene from Crowley's POV.

I’ll be your rabbit in the headlights Rating: Mature Wordcount: 7,185 Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Praise Kink

"The demon absentmindedly ran his hand through his hair, the fifth such time he’d done so in the past half hour. A low thrum of anxiety had taken residence in his stomach after Armaged-Not and refused to leave, even after the complete radio silence from the respective offices of Heaven and Hell that had followed the trials. Part of Crowley reveled in the newfound freedom, but another whispering part thought this can’t be over." Crowley has some fears and Aziraphale tracks him down, looking for answers.

My Hero Academia

SERIES: you’re always on my mind whisper in your ear Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Wordcount: 6,628 Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku Additional Tags: Getting Together, Aged-Up Character(s), Post-Canon, Light Angst, Bakugou Katsuki is Bad at Feelings, Mild Language, Pro Hero Midoriya Izuku, Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki, Pining Bakugou Katsuki, pining like a motherfucker "Katsuki Bakugou has never been accused of emotional intelligence. A hardworking student, of course. An overpowered little shit with the quirk control of a seasoned pro? Absolutely, emphasis on the little shit. But understanding emotions beyond anger and annoyance? That is not Bakugou’s wheelhouse." After graduation Bakugou heads to America. A nudge from Kirishima leads him to look back towards home.

I think about you and wonder if you are awake Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Wordcount: 9,526 Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku Additional Tags: Pro Hero Midoriya Izuku, Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki, Aged-Up Character(s), Getting Together, Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot, Bakugou Katsuki is Bad at Feelings, Midoriya Izuku is Bad at Feelings, Light Angst, Post-Canon, Pining, so much pining, Mutual Pining, Mentions of Sex "So Izuku lies in bed and stares at the ceiling, trying to avoid thinking and thinking entirely too much. As often happens when he has too much time and not enough distractions, his mind flashes images in front of his eyes of blond hair, a snarling grin, controlled but wild red eyes. He wonders where Kacchan is now, wonders what he’s doing, misses him with a ferocity that threatens to drown him." whisper in your ear from Izuku's point of view.

a letter a day keeps the heartache away Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Wordcount: 2,627 Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku Additional Tags: Epistolary, Light Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Bakugou Katsuki Needs a Hug, Insecurity, Happy Ending "There is a shoebox in the back of the closet. Katsuki doesn't think much of it the first time he sees it, he's looking for his nice shoes and they're in a hurry. It’s not labeled or marked as special in any way, but he knows how much of an emotional hoarder Izuku is. The man would save anything and everything given to him, small pieces that remind him of people and times that are important to him." When Katsuki finds something in the closet, a necessary conversation happens.

ONESHOTS here comes a thought Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Wordcount: 4,007 Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Aged-Up Character(s), Pro Hero Midoriya Izuku, Pro Hero Uraraka Ochako, Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki, Getting Together, Naked making out, Quirk Accident (My Hero Academia)

It should have been an easy day. Izuku woke before his alarm and the sun is shining, he’d even snagged the last spicy pork bun at the stall he usually stops at for breakfast. There had been no major events while he’d slept and his desk is—by rare chance—empty of reports when he gets in. He spends the morning with a smile on his face, relaxed.Of course it doesn’t last. When Bakugou and Midoriya get hit with an unexpected quirk, a new world opens before him.

an end, once and for all Rating: Explicit Wordcount: 7,531 Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku Additional Tags: Major Character Injury, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Pro Hero Midoriya Izuku, Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki, Future Fic, Near Death Experiences, Final Battle, Getting Together, Anal Sex, First Time, Protective Midoriya Izuku, Protective Bakugou Katsuki, mentions of death of all might

Izuku is so tired. He’s overused his quirk and he’s separated from the other heroes. He knows he’s so far past his limits, but there’s a whisper in his heart that knows this has to be it. This is his chance to end everything, to finally bring the villain down. There is no other option. The final fight with All For One ensues and Izuku is hard pressed when Bakugo arrives. Then there's the aftermath.

how close am I to losing you Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Wordcount: 3,341 Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Quirk Accident (My Hero Academia), Minor Injuries, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Pro Hero Midoriya Izuku, Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki, Pro Hero Kirishima Eijirou, Future Fic, Aged-Up Character(s)

It’s a simple enough plan: they’ve been tracking the source of several riots that have occurred in the recent weeks and came to the conclusion it had to be a quirk. The lack of memory from the riot victims, no traces of chemicals or any environmental causes found, and the spontaneous explosion of violence that preceded each event narrowed possible inciting incident quite a bit. Then in reviewing security footage of the events, a single, fire-red head was spotted floating in and out of the chaos at each location. In trying to take down a villain with a rage-inducing quirk, Katsuki gets hit and Izuku has to protect him from himself.

Other Fandom Oneshots

what hides in the past Fandom: Harry Potter Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Wordcount: 3,541 Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Past Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Auror Harry Potter, Unspeakable Draco Malfoy

Draco is doing some unpacking while Harry's at work and stumbles across something that makes him question what he really knows about Harry's childhood.

live with me Fandom: Person of Interest Rating: Mature Wordcount: 6,207 Relationships: Harold Finch/John Reese Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Torture, Truth Serum, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Harold Finch, Protective Harold Finch, Hurt John Reese, Getting Together, Kidnapping

"The summer heat had settled over New York weeks ago, and while crimes of passion had spiked with the temperature, premeditated attacks had dropped off while people took shelter and tried to conserve energy. There hadn’t been a number in days, something that caused Reese both to pace restlessly while trying to encourage Finch to take a break." It's supposed to be an easy day. No one counts on Reese being taken by a previous number's enemies.

Personal Essays

On the Importance of Bailing In a world that idolizes individual strength, bailing is not a positive thing. But it’s something we need, and we need to talk about it.

Why We Should Be Teaching Fanfiction Fanfiction is not a lesser form of writing. It can teach us so much about what it means to be human, if we’re willing to listen.

If the night is too dark, read this. It’s so hard to find reasons to keep going sometimes. This isn’t a reason, but it is a message from someone who’s been there and still is.

How I Came Out Twice Coming out can be a stressful experience full of unknowns. Here’s the story of why I did it twice.

An Argument for Rereading Books Many things in our society are very “one and done”, not necessary to revisit once done. But should we reread books? Here’s why I say yeah.

When Your Eating Disorder Isn’t About Food At All I love food, but this was never about the food, was it?

the dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had You know the song Mad World by Gary Jules? Funnily enough, for me it’s the truth.

My Level Up Moment Becoming an adult is not a continuous process, it comes in fits and spurts. Here’s a moment where I felt myself grow up.

[shinneth]

6, 1, 7, 5 and 10 for the fic writer meme!

OKAY. Finally got free from the distractions. Let’s see how well I can answer these. 

6. Share one of your weaknesses

Oh, I have a good amount of those. I would say my tl;dr curse (I don’t think I’ve EVER written a fic below four-figures, and very rarely does it end up 5k or lower), but I know there’s many out there who’d tell me that’s definitely a strength and that they’d love to be able to churn out six-figure epics in their sleep like I do. So let’s go with a more objective weakness.

I have the redundancy curse. I have this really, really really really really really really really bad habit of somehow reiterating a statement twice within the same sentence. Or at the very least, my verbiage will get repeated more times than it should within the same sentence (enough to the point where the sentence sounds very awkward when you read it out loud). This almost always happens because I’ll establish something at the beginning of my sentence, somehow forget about it midway through, and think I need to add it to the end.

I can’t tell you how many times I fall into that trap. Only through rereading my progress to get back into the groove to continue a chapter is when I’ll really have an opportunity to catch these slip-ups. Since I’ve never used betas and I’m pretty much fine finishing everything in one draft and all that. It’s astounding how many of these errors I’ll catch, really. And despite that, a few will always end up slipping through in the final product anyway! 

It’s a very annoying quirk that I’d love to fix, but again, it almost always happens right under my nose. No matter how conscious I try to be about this sort of thing, it’ll pop up when I least expect it. So really, all I can do is just try and catch as many as I can after I’ve written my stuff down, but before I finalize my piece.

1. Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.

I think the name of the game here is Adaptation Expansion. I focus on a character (or a small group of characters) that I feel

A) Didn’t get as much canon development as they deserved

or

B) Might have gotten a decently good amount of focus, but I’m seeing many unsolved mysteries/curiosities around said character(s) and many possible routes to explore any headcanons that are raging inside of me.

Or the headcanon itself is just really nagging at me, so I make a whole story dedicated to it. 

In your typical Shin fic, the more Shin likes you, the more you should be afraid. Outside of having a wildly creative sadistic streak, my best ideas are usually best suited to my favorite characters, and I happen to be very big on the Earn Your Happy Ending trope. Certain series I feel kind of gave their characters a good conclusion a little too easily, and so I’ve made it my life’s mission to erase any doubt in my readers’ minds about whether or not the characters truly paid their dues to get their reward at the end. 

So of course, you add that with the sadism, and that means you’re very likely to get a fic that at least somewhat leans on the dramatic end. I think the vast majority of my Fanfiction.net stories are listed under “Drama”, now that I think about it. But really, drama’s what you go with when you wanna raise the stakes to crazy-high levels. It won’t be melodramatic 100% of the time, nor will it be grimdark or consummately edgy; I do make a point to add some witty humor and even fluff if it’s appropriate. But Shin fics are all about letting you see the kind of hell certain characters could be going through in canon and thankfully aren’t - yet you’re also seeing those same characters achieve a level of greatness canon would have never permitted because they put their all into reaching their goal. 

That’s about the gist of it: trying to outdo canon at its own game, giving justice I feel my favorites are due, but only after I put them through the seven circles of hell. 

7.  Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Hm, okay. When it comes to pride, I’m typically very reserved in that regard. However, I was very proud of how This is Who I Am Chapter 5 turned out. I had an idea well before writing it about how I wanted to do a twist on the Mirror Match trope with Steven and Peridot - basically, forcing their light sides to fight off the dark sides of each other, rather than themselves. The more accurate terminology for what I actually pulled off was an inversion of Opponent Switch.

I was very happy how I managed to execute this plot, since so much of it was rigged in the dark sides’ favor and almost insured that only Steven or Peridot would come out of this alive; not both. When it came to Light Steven meeting Dark Peridot, I finally had the opportunity to properly write for Pre-Series Peridot, who I established earlier was a bit of an opportunistic sociopath. I was eager for the chance to make my version of Socio-Peri a legit unsettling psychopath and boy did I revel in it. So, without further ado:

Steven desperately tried to find any trace of hope remaining in this situation. "E-Even if you and him are just the worst things about us made into people, like you said, you are still part of Peridot, 5XG! You're linked, me and the other Steven are linked… and you two shouldn't want to shatter your loved ones, either!"

5XG found herself legitimately enjoying this; savoring Steven's agony and dwindling optimism. It had been far too long since she was able to relish in the pain of another; especially when it resulted in her getting rewarded for it.

"If you're attempting to argue that we don't have a single iota of contempt for one another, I suggest you spare us any more of your unacceptable stupidity by jumping off this platform and descend into the abyss where you belong," she said in a sharp tone. "You'll recall I absolutely despised you for quite some time before my weaker self got the better of me. Past-tense or not, it is a fact you cannot deny. Therefore, it is part of me. Consider it as valid as the fact that, regardless of tense and however I changed over time, I am and always will be a murderer."

"NO!"

Steven was completely shaken up, now driven to tears and cowering away from the Peridot who was his adversary long before becoming his soulmate.

"Please, don't!" he urged. "I've forgiven her already! I-I never hated her for–"

"You hate murderers," 5XG stated in a calm, neutral, but very firm tone that was sharp enough to cut Steven off. "Anyone who takes the life of another, you hate on principle. The cause or circumstance is of no concern to you and never has been."

Steven swore his blood ran freezing cold for a moment after taking in those words. He was stunned to the point of being unable to rebuke any of this.

"The Bismuth told me how events played out when you first met her," 5XG added, readily rubbing salt into the wound. "After knowing by this point how the Diamond Authority were responsible for committing multiple acts of global genocide, how this very planet was on that list, and were prone to shattering members of their own court on a misdemeanor or even on a whim. You were aware of all of this."

Steven squinted his eyes, trying his best to shut away any more tears. He tried to turn away from 5XG; his entire body was shivering while his hands balled up into fists. "P-Please, stop…"

"Yet you admonished the Bismuth for daring to create weapons made for wiping out an enemy with lethal force; legitimate ways to justifiably defend yourself against an enemy you know would not hesitate to take your life if they had an opening. You stood there, and you actually labeled her as one who is completely indistinguishable from White, Blue, or Yellow Diamond," 5XG continued; of course she wouldn't honor his request. "A loyal ally of your maternal unit whose focus was always on doing her best to defend her friends and loved ones, who only fought when forced to by the Homeworld gems… to her face, you belittled her convictions and you said there was no difference between her and the maniacal, genocidal dictators that you yourself were defending against along with your loved ones – just as the Bismuth herself. I honestly don't blame her for trying to kill you that day. You should have died."

5. Share one of your strengths.

Phew... this one’s a little awkward for me. I know one thing I’m objectively good at is writing insanely long shit that is at least good enough to compel people to lose sleep or pull all-nighters as they strive to finish it. I can at least safely say that because nearly every goddamn reviewer I’ve ever had has gone out of their way to mention this. Even if they don’t review, if I ever have a chance to talk to them personally, they’re normally gonna let me know they sacrificed many hours of sleep because of me :P 

But really, I’m consistently praised for expanding on characters or concepts that canon either could have touched on more or barely touched at all. Some people have gained newfound appreciation for characters they didn’t care about or even hated because of my portrayals, and that’s pretty damn empowering to hear. I’ll often get remarks along the lines of me taking a character and “really making them my own” - in a positive way. Sometimes I have plot twists that are complete and utter batshit on paper, but then I’ll get commended for making it completely believable to the point where readers tell me they wish it was actually canon. 

So, that’s enough of a strength, I would say. I can reach really far and still make an AU story sound like it could have easily fit in canon even if my ideas are ones the staff won’t touch with a 10-mile pole.

10.  Which fic has been the easiest to write?

rsilgjdgkljdgsjgahhahhhh, that’s not as easy a question as you might think! Every story has given me a hurdle or two. 

I think by default, I’m gonna say it’s Peri-dise: The Capitalist Anarchy. Because while I put my own spin on it and added a lot of things to make a proper story out of it, Peridot’s little Citystate session was almost exactly to the letter like a certain one by GrayStillPlays. So a lot of the heavy lifting was already done for me in that regard. Still made sure to add plenty to it just to ensure it wasn’t SOLELY just a retelling of that video with some name changes.

And that takes care of my first big ask! Hopefully those were satisfactory answers. I’ll... TRY and get to another before I pass out. Really wasn’t fair of CN to drop this leak on the same day I’d have to contend with 3 hours of Monday Night RAW...

[salaciouscrumpet]

Whumptober Day 16

Whumptober Day 16 Prompt: “Pinned Down”

This is, I think, the “whumpiest” of my ficlets so far, and it goes to some pretty dark places. I’d like to remind my readers that these ficlets aren’t canon to my actual series (although references to past experiences do refer to things that have happened to my characters canonically, like Luke’s childhood or how he came to join the Alliance), this is essentially just fanfiction of my own writing (which, whoa, vain!). Thought experiments, not things that have happened prior to the novel’s start or are going to happen in-world.

This ficlet is exposition-heavy and long, and while it is not about the abuse that Luke suffered as a child -- I am unlikely to ever write graphically about that; it’s enough that I know, in broad scope, what happened and how it affected him -- it is definitely impacted by that abuse and his mind definitely makes the connections.

This ficlet also ends on a dark note. It was getting long -- 7 pages! -- and I think I dealt with the prompt enough to end it where I did. There are a few other Whumptober prompts that will spin off of this, so remember: not canon, and not the end.

CW: References to childhood sexual abuse. Again, this is not what the ficlet is about, and at no point is it ever described graphically, but it has an impact on how things play out. Also, trigger warnings for brief internalized homophobia, humiliation (which is a personal squick of mine), non-graphic non-con and a whole heap of victim self-blaming. This fic is about vampires, not rape, but the connections are there and that could be triggering for some readers.

Characters: Luke, Kate

Growing up, Luke had always heard about his family’s great legacy, about how they were descended from the bravest and most powerful Knights of the Seelie Court down through centuries of carefully-preserved breeding. (The details of which probably involved some branches of the family tree that looped back around on each other, but of course nobody talked about that.) Nobody outright said the Knights of Oberon and their Incarnate lineage were better than everybody else, but it was heavily implied. That was one of the reasons the Scions had broken off from the greater Knighthood: because the Knighthood was supposed to be a punishment, a penance for opening the rifts that enabled monsters to enter the world – or some such, the legends were all rather vague after a few centuries. The Knights weren’t supposed to see themselves as better, but they did. They were warriors, protectors, guardians of the just and the righteous, the stalwart defense against a world of monstrosities and abominations. (That their ancestors had let into the world. That was an important part that the Order often conveniently overlooked.) 

And in a lot of ways, the Knights were better than other people. They were stronger, faster, more resilient. Their bodies could take more damage and healed from that damage more quickly. Some of that was inherent, a result of their Incarnate, Fae-descended bloodline. Some of it was the result of the vows they swore when they formally joined the Order. The end result was the same in that there were legitimate reasons for the Knights of Oberon to see themselves as being above regular humans, even those who were also Fae-blooded. (And certainly above anyone who was demon-blooded, which was the lowest of the low, obviously. One doesn’t mate with monsters. The fact that very few humans did so willingly was neither here nor there, so far as the Knighthood was concerned.) It’s not that they thought they were better. It’s just that they were better. 

However, one way in which the Knights of Oberon – and indeed, all Incarnate, regardless of sworn oaths – were just the same as regular-blooded humans was when it came to vampires. 

More specifically, when it came to a vampire’s bite. 

Vampires didn’t survive as a species by leaving behind a trail of drained, anguished-looking corpses. Perhaps they did so back in the early days, when humans lived in smaller settlements and the nights were darker and scarier, but over the centuries they evolved just like everything else. And like a lot of creatures, vampires evolved to suit their surroundings. They could hide their monstrous appearances underneath a human veneer and they could mask their predatory behaviour behind more pleasurable endeavours. There were always slip-ups, of course, especially with younger, newer vampires who didn’t know their own strength (or the strength of their hunger), but overall it was far easier and safer to leave a partner feeling weak and limp after a bout of enthusiastic lovemaking than it was to leave a victim drained dead in a ditch somewhere. To that end, the bite of a vampire was pleasurable, particularly when the vampire fed from or near an erogenous zone. The victim came away with some bruises in the form of hickeys, the vampire came away well-fed, and both parties were quite satisfied – even if the human had no idea what really happened to them. 

Growing up it was never something Luke heard spoken about. It wasn’t until he was a teenager, when he and his peers started learning about more illicit activities, and the topic of vampires and their bites would come up. Then someone would smirk or give a knowing wink, and huddled together at night on their bunk beds after lights-out they would speak in hushed voices about what it might be like to be fed on by a vampire. That it was said to feel good – orgasmic, even, and then Luke had had to go and find a dictionary to learn what that meant (and the resulting discovery, and the realization that he was already ahead of his peers in that respect – albeit not by choice – had left him feeling sick and dirty). It wasn’t something you were supposed to look for, of course. Vampires weren’t, strictly speaking, the enemy unless they did something to attract human attention, like killing a bunch of people or leaving huge puddles of blood everywhere, but they certainly weren’t friends, either. But if you got into a fight with a vampire, and it bit you, and it felt good … well, that was hardly your fault, right? (Then you could justify killing it afterwards, and you got two rewards out of it: what some people said was the best orgasm of your life, and what was, to a Knight, the more just reward in the form of a dead monster that was obviously a threat to others.) 

Luke had sort of skipped over that stage of teenaged prurient interest. When the other boys had talked about sex he had feigned interest and tried to tune them out. He didn’t want to share that his own experiences had started much earlier than theirs (and with a man, which was somehow so much worse). He didn’t want to talk about it. And if that meant his friends thought he was a prude, or frigid, well, that was okay. It was better than them knowing the truth. 

So while Luke knew, in theory, about vampires and their bite, it wasn’t something he had much experience with or interest in. There was a nest of vampires in town, but they were considered respectable. They ran businesses, brought a significant amount of money into town, and supported initiatives that benefited the community. They were normal citizens. They didn’t just go out and attack random people, they cultivated their herd, took care of their herd. They had willing donors, or at least people they fed from that they didn’t kill who kept coming back for more. (Luke had also heard that the bite of a vampire was addictive to some people, but he didn’t know whether or not that was true. People could become addicted to a lot of things, so … maybe? Maybe, to some people, being fed on by a vampire was a lot like wine, or chocolate, or playing the slots. Some people could handle it and knew their limits, others couldn’t and didn’t.) The local nest weren’t the sort of vampires that the Knights would be called in to deal with, and it wasn’t until he joined the Alliance that he had any interactions with the local vampires at all – and those interactions were purely diplomatic, since the Alliance had formal ties with all the supernatural creatures in town. (Except, ironically, the Knights of Oberon: because Luke was officially the only Knight who was connected to the Alliance, and he wasn’t technically a Knight.) The Alliance supported all the supernatural creatures, not just the ones the Knights deemed acceptable. 

He’d grown up being told that, as an Incarnate who was a part of this great and mystical legacy, he was better than all the humans around him. When it came to vampires, however, he was as disappointingly weak as any Average Joe off the street – with one exception, and that was something else the Knights hadn’t ever really talked about: 

To a vampire, the Knights of Oberon were like the finest champagne or a mountain of pure uncut heroin. Whether it was the allure of danger or there really was something special in the Knight’s blood, the end result was that their blood was to vampires like catnip was to cats. 

This was … information Luke could’ve used earlier. 

These vampires were not the nest the Alliance had introduced him to. Rogue vampires were rare, but not unheard of, although in tight-knit communities like theirs they were usually caught and dealt with by the local nest long before they became an issue the Knights or the Alliance needed to address. These ones were a small rogue pack, maybe five in total, and they had swarmed the old cabin like ants at a picnic. Luke and Kate had been out patrolling in the woods, in a stretch of forest they’d been through hundreds of times before, when they’d been attacked out of nowhere and quickly, surprisingly overpowered. 

And now Luke knew three things for certain: 

1. The Knights of Oberon were wrong: they weren’t any better than regular humans.

2. His horny schoolmates had been right: the bite of a vampire was orgasmic.

3. The local vampire Monarchs were going to be pissed off if they ever found out about these rogues. 

As he lay on the rotting floorboards of an ancient and decrepit cabin long thought abandoned, Luke was rapidly become aware of another unwelcome piece of knowledge: He wasn’t nearly as strong as he thought he was. 

Physically, yeah, he knew his own strength. It wasn’t a match for a hungry vampire, but on the whole it was definitely above-average and generally pretty great. Mentally, though? He was nowhere near strong enough to handle this. 

Because the thing of it was, he wasn’t a horny teenager curious about the seedy underbelly of the supernatural world. He was a man with a troubled past, and that past included being taken advantage of as a child. It included someone he trusted holding him down and taking from him, and that experience had marked him, had left him every bit as scarred as the burns down his arm or the tiny incisions along his inner thighs that only two other people in the world had ever seen before. It included being weak, and helpless, and feeling every bit as vulnerable and scared as he felt right now with a monster pinning him to the floor, its fangs lodged in his neck. 

Nor did Luke think he was strong enough to hear Kate’s screams from somewhere nearby, because the other thing he had learned as a child was that demons and demon-blooded humans – like Kate – did not experience pleasure from a vampire’s bite. Generally speaking, vampires didn’t even like feeding from the demon-blooded, because they were said to taste bad (as were vampires themselves, which was one reason why Knight archivists theorized that vampires were in some way demonic as well). It was considered beneath vampires to feed from demons and their ilk, and that was supposedly why they didn’t taste as pleasant as humans, and why there was no reason for the demon-blooded to find the bite pleasurable. Instead, it was painful. Judging from Kate’s screams – and Luke could count on one hand the number of times he had heard Kate scream, and still have fingers left over – it was incredibly painful. 

The vampires weren’t even drinking Kate’s blood. They were biting her, and draining her, but they spat the blood out again: onto the floor, out into the woods, even back out onto Luke and Kate. Her blood wasn’t worth the taking, they were simply using the act of feeding to hurt her. To kill her. 

Between Kate’s agony and his own tortured pleasure, Luke was pretty sure he was going to snap. The vampires weren’t going to kill him, his mind was going to crack wide open and he was going to go stark raving mad. 

The sun was out and the vampires had gone to ground for the day. Their absence didn’t mean a break for Luke and Kate, however: the vampires had a pair of humans, a man and a woman, who saw to their needs during the day. Both were pale and stringy and put Luke in mind of the hard-core drug users he’d seen on occasion, the strung-out junkies looking for their next fix, and under normal circumstances he could have overpowered both of them together with one hand behind his back. While playing Candy Crush on his phone and eating a sandwich. These weren’t normal circumstances, however, and both Luke and Kate were chained to the ground and weak and injured from blood loss. The vampires had given their thralls enough of their blood to give them extra strength, as well; not enough that they would have been a match for their two captives, but more than enough to handle them when sick and weakened. 

In the beginning Kate had been all fire and spit, hurling curses and threats and fighting like the hellcat she was until the vampires had beaten her down and subdued her. Now she was barely conscious, glazed eyes staring sightlessly into nothing, her voice completely gone from screaming. To Luke’s own great shame he’d been far more useless: the instant one of the vampires bit him his body had gone limp and lax, and the flood of unwanted pleasure, combined with the sensation of being pinned to the ground, had triggered unpleasant memories that left him snared and helpless. He was suddenly ten years old again, trapped alone in his dark bedroom with a monster a hundred times worse than any he had read about as part of his supernatural studies, and nobody – not his father, not his mother, not any of his most trusted teachers and mentors – was going to come and rescue him. He was small and helpless and weak, and the worst part was that it was his body that betrayed him in the end, because the vampires, just like Martin Sleswick, could force his body to react however they wanted him to. 

“Please,” he called out, his voice barely stronger than Kate’s. His lips were dry and chapped, and he could taste blood on his tongue. Laid out as he was on his back on the hardwood floor, his entire world had become the rotting ceiling above him, the wispy lines of sunlight that filtered through cracks in the cabin’s walls, and the feeling of Kate’s hand, cold and limp in his own. They’d grabbed on to each other when the vampires had started feeding, and their desperation had amused the monsters so much that they’d let them continue holding on. At first Luke had felt Kate’s struggles, the way her fingers had clenched down hard on his own, but now there was nothing. He hadn’t let go, however. He was afraid that if he did let go she would be lost – they both would. “Please.” 

One of the thralls – the man, who spent his time sitting on a milk crate, smoking cigarettes and making lewd promises he hadn’t yet decided to follow up on – let out a harsh bark of laughter. Of the two of them, he seemed the most amused by what the vampires were doing to their captives, like the torture Luke and Kate were going through was being done purely for his entertainment. 

“What?” he snapped out, launching himself up off the milk crate to come and stand over Luke. He was too short and skinny to pull off an intimidating stance, but it was clear that was what he was aiming for. “What do you want now, your lordship? Shall I fetch the servants to shine your shoes? Would your lordship like another pillow?” 

“I just …” Luke thought hard, but his mind was in scrambles. He could barely remember what day it was or how long he and Kate had been missing. He’d tried keeping track of the time – he’d long had a body clock trained into him and could usually guess the hour without giving it much thought, but the only concept of time he had was night, when the vampires were back, and day, when they were gone. 

The first day, when the vampires left and it was just him and Kate with the two thralls, he’d tried convincing the humans to unchain them both, to let them go free. It had been pointless, of course: they were called thralls for a reason. Whether they served the vampires out of love or duty or fear or some combination of all three, the man and woman weren’t going to set their victims free, not even when Luke promised them safety within the Alliance. Eventually he’d tried asking for food or water – the two thralls seemed to have an interminable source of junk food, which was all they ate – but had been refused. He’d even tried asking just to be led somewhere so that he could relieve himself in some semblance of privacy, but even that had been denied, with the man sneering and laughing at him when Luke had inevitably been forced to wet himself where he lay. It was disgusting and humiliating and contributed to his ever-increasing sense of shame and desperation. 

“Just let her go,” he said at last, aware of the pleading note in his voice. If he could have gone to his knees in front of the two thralls he would have done so, but chained supine as he was the best he could do was to put as much sincerity and hope in his weakened voice as he could manage. “Please. You can … They can do whatever they want to me. Whatever they want. Anything they want, I’ll do it, just please, please let her go.” 

He meant it, too. Whatever the vampires wanted, whatever the thralls wanted, he was willing to do it if it just meant Kate got to go free. If they wanted him to grovel, to bend down and lick their boots clean, he’d do it. They could drain him until they took the last drop of his blood and if it just meant Kate was safe and alive, he’d die happy. 

This time it was the woman who scoffed, letting out a series of high-pitched giggles that were like nails on a chalkboard to Luke’s ears. 

“Her?” she exclaimed, between the laughs. She didn’t bother to get up, but remained seated cross-legged on the floor, a half-eaten bag of cool ranch Doritos in front of her. She ate each chip like a little mouse, nibbling delicately until it was gone. Luke didn’t know if she was eating that way to torture him – he couldn’t help but watch her – or if that was simply the way she normally ate. “They’re not going to let her go. She killed Derek. They’re gonna make her pay for that.” 

Derek. That had been the vampire’s name, then, the man Kate had killed when the vampires had swarmed them. It had been a lucky shot, just as another vampire had taken her down. The two of them had been too overwhelmed, they hadn’t seen the attack coming. Luke didn’t actually want to know the vampires’ names; that made them people instead of just monsters. It was funny, though: he’d never much cared for the name ‘Derek,’ there had been a bully by that name back when he was in elementary school. He had been Luke’s parents’ friends’ son and Luke had been forced to spend more time than he would have liked with the kid, in the way that the children of your parents’ friends were, for the sake of convenience and proximity, automatically assumed to be your friends. The Derek Luke had known had died shortly after taking his vows, his death made memorable solely because of the cause: a late-night traffic accident, his car spun out on an icy road. It was unusual for the Knights of Oberon to die in random accidents. Their deaths were usually more deliberate than that. 

“Besides,” the man said, moving to stand next to Kate. He kicked her in the side with the toe of his boot; she barely reacted, nothing more than a flutter of eyelashes and her fingers spasming within Luke’s grasp. “It’s not like she’s gonna get far on her own. What, you think we’re gonna carry her out of here? Drop her off at emerg? Just ‘cause you said please?” He snorted, crouching down beside Kate and grabbing her chin with one hand to turn her face towards him. “Shame. Saw the way she fought. Bet she was a demon in the sack.” 

The man paused for a moment, then burst out laughing as he suddenly realized his own inadvertent pun. He and the woman both knew who and what Luke and Kate were, that Luke was a Knight of Oberon and that Kate was one of the fomoir. It was why the vampires had wanted them, or at least, why they had wanted Luke. According to the one who had bit him first, they’d never had a Knight before and wanted to know if the stories were true, about how delicious they were. From what Luke had learned in supernatural studies the Knights didn’t taste any different from any other human aside from the demon-blooded, despite their long-held belief in their own superiority. He’d been taught it was just an old wives’ tale that the Knights of Oberon tasted better (when it was mentioned at all, which was rarely), or that feeding from them was in some way superior, simply because of the challenge of bringing a Knight down. 

Of course, it hadn’t been difficult for these vampires to bring Luke down at all. Kate had been the one who’d fought. He’d swooned like a maiden in a fairy tale. 

Fresh shame flooded through Luke, heightened by the sudden burning in his eyes that signalled the threat of tears. He was not going to cry in front of these assholes. He may have let Charlie convince him over the years that, contrary to everything Luke had been taught, it was perfectly acceptable for men to cry, but there was still a large part of him that believed it to be a sign of weakness. He’d already proven himself weak, he wasn’t going to compound it by breaking down like a child. 

And that was what he felt like: a child. Worse, he felt like the child he’d been, helpless against the greater strength of a monster. All the years of growth and training and experience meant nothing when pitted against creatures that knew how to use your body against you and who delighted in doing so. 

He wanted to be like Kate, vicious and strong and ferocious even when brought down low. And normally Luke thought he was like that. He’d been a fighter all his life. He’d fought and killed bigger and badder monsters than a handful of vampires. He’d been tortured and abandoned and had come out the other side stronger and better for it, and yet this? This experience? It was like nothing he’d ever been trained for. No one had ever warned him that vampires could use his own body’s sensations against him so easily. No one had ever said that all it would take was one bite for him to roll over and show his belly. Or maybe no one had ever told him because they hadn’t thought it would be necessary, because Knights of Oberon weren’t supposed to respond the way he did – that he only folded because he was corruptible, because he’d been conditioned to like it, that his childhood experiences had broken something fundamental within him and left him weak and wanting. Maybe, despite all the reassurances Charlie and Kate had given him over the years, Sleswick really had destroyed something within him and as a result Luke had failed, was failing, couldn’t seem to stop failing. 

And now he and Kate were going to die. Kate was going to die – because Luke was weak.

[darkhymns-fic]

Capturing the Moment

Colette wanted to cherish every moment she could with Lloyd. But the moments she would miss would sting her heart, and still she yearned for more.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairings: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel Rating: G Mirror Links: AO3 Notes: Extra story for Colloyd Day. This is actually a very old fic, so the writing isn't up to par, but I still liked the general idea of it enough. Expect some fluff.

-

Before the journey, Colette tried to take every moment she had fully, appreciate its existence before it left her grasp. The warmth of the sun, the breaths she took as she ran, and the laughter of a friend were treasures she tried to carry with her off into sleep. Sometimes, she would simply lay on the grass, trying to grasp everything with her senses as Lloyd’s shadow would gratefully cover her from the light’s harsher glares.

“You look happy,” Lloyd would say, smiling, and she couldn’t help but smile even more with him.

But sometimes, she would miss the almost-moments, the ones that came close to completion before flying away. Missing a friend’s call from across the village, or not getting to see the shooting star that Lloyd had tried pointing out to her once. They left longings inside her that sent a sadness she felt guilty for - after all, hadn’t she already had so much, more than many could probably say? A Chosen of Mana should not be so selfish, yet her heart would ache for those sensations that would slip by and out of her grasp.

One night, she and Lloyd lingered at the meadows outside of Iselia, where they could see the village from a distance, not close enough for those to see them, yet not far into the forests where predators could get them. It was a year before she would leave, and when they both were already learning to carry their weapons around, though the only enemies they ever had to fight were rabid wolves that would try to attack those on the pathway. Genis had already gone home to brave his sister’s cooking once more, leaving only them both on the search they had decided to undertake.

“I know that clover was around here somewhere.” Lloyd scratched his head, frustrated that he could not find the four-leaf oddity.

“It’s okay if we miss it” Colette had assured, but he was determined, searching through the grass in the dark, with only the moonlight to guide him. “Are you even able to see much though?”

“There it is!” Lloyd shouted with an enthusiasm that sent a pleasant warmth through her. His excitement infected her, so she couldn’t help but gasp in wonder when she found it near his hand, tempted to pluck it away as she knelt next to him.

She was not sure what had changed between them there - for it was only the usual between them. There had been plenty of times they had remained near each other alone, but suddenly there was an awkwardness that she couldn’t explain. Perhaps by their nearness, his head just next to hers as they looked at the clover, but again it was not the first time they had ever been this close. Was it the darkness of the night sky? The lights of the village in the distance?

What she knew was that Lloyd was looking at her differently, and that it set off a temptation that she only dimly harbored when she allowed herself to think of it. When he leaned forward, she had already closed her eyes, already imagining heat and scents that she had wanted, despite all that she already had. A breath passed over her lips, and there was just the slightest touch that sent a shiver through her chest. But, inexperienced as they both were, neither had calculated the distance well enough, especially with both their eyes shut. A hard smack between both their foreheads instantly broke off the almost-kiss.

“Ow…” Lloyd rubbed his head, blinking away the night’s affects. “Sorry about that. And, uh…”

Nursing her own bruise, she laughed. “It’s okay. It was probably my fault.”

Lloyd had already gotten to his feet, helping her off her knees. “I didn’t think heads could be so hard,” he said with a grin.

Unsure how to get back to the moment, it was already lost. They then both went back to the norm, heading back to the village for Colette to be home before her family worried.

Perhaps it was better though. It would be cruel to promise him something that could never be fulfilled. So she did not seek, but the longing, no matter how hard she tried, continued to stay.

---

“Why didn’t you say anything to anyone? Why didn’t you talk to me?”

Lloyd rarely yelled at her - the closest instances was when he raised his voice if she got herself hurt, as her clumsiness ensured would happen time and again. Always she could detect the slight crack in his tone when he did so, as if the very concept of her in any condition worse than a scraped knee or bruised lip was enough to send him into a panic.

The deadening of her own senses was enough to push him into terror.

“It’s okay, Lloyd. Really!” She smiled perfectly, twining the fingers of her hands together to keep them still. “I don’t get tired anymore now. You know how hard it usually is for me to get up early if we need to. And now I can hear things from far off and-”

“Stop it, Colette.” Lloyd’s voice was low. His fists clenched in frustration. “Stop trying to make like everything’s okay when it’s not!”

Her eyes flickered to the shattered mugs on the ground, spilling out the black contents. “Lloyd, I just… I don’t want you to worry.”

“How can’t I?” He took a step closer to her, and once again she could hear his voice crack again. He barely kept hold of it. “Can you… can you really not feel anything anymore?”

There was that hope. But if she lied, he would just see through her, as he always had.

“No,” she told him. Nor sleep, nor eat. The price of her wings was slow but certain. She had not known that the transformation would do this to her. She had prepared herself for the end, but not for what would come before. Still, this was her lot - it could not be changed.

“Please don’t tell anyone. At least, until our journey is ended.”

“Colette-”

“I want this journey to be fun for everyone!” She smiled again, not completely fake now. The worry he felt for her was reassuring, but she wanted his pain to stop. “This is just part of becoming an angel. If we tell everyone now, they’ll keep worrying over me. And I don’t want to cause such trouble, especially when we’re discovering new places.”

Lloyd stared at her. He kept clenching his hands, unsure what to do.

“But…I’m glad that you know, Lloyd,” she whispered. “If there’s anyone that I would want to talk about this, I’m happy that it’s with my most favorite person in Iselia.”

She wasn’t sure exactly what she said then. Or perhaps it was how she said, breathless, with the memory of a darkened sky and childish search through the fields. Yet it made tears slide down Lloyd’s cheeks, made him rush up to her with a tight embrace.

“I’m so stupid! If I had known what was happening to you…”

Colette lifted her hands, intending to offer him some comfort back. But he had already pulled back slightly, staring at her like he had done those few months ago. His lips met hers in a rush, his breath quickening as he gripped her arms. It was a moment she had often thought about before, when she would imagine the scenario, on the words they would say to each other before it happened.

Reality wasn’t the same. She stood there, feeling nothing. Not the rush of electricity, not the intoxication of heat. Her wings had robbed her of such sensations. It made her heart crack.

Still, she wouldn’t trade her first kiss with anyone else.

---

And she would soon kiss him again, greedy for nothing less.

I’m glad I can say goodbye to you in the end. Her lips couldn’t move, her throat couldn’t utter a thing. But still, in the tower, Lloyd heard her. He clung to her as she felt herself being pulled away.

“Colette, wait!” He was the only one that ran to her, not stopped by fear or confliction. Despite everything her death would accomplish, he still chose her. “You can’t… you can’t go…”

The way his voice broke, it made her want to be close to him, just once more. Just one last thing before her memory of him would be taken from her.

Because she was selfish, and she still wanted to feel his kiss, even if it was beyond salvaging now.

She could see, from the growing dimness of her eyes, the shock in his face as she pressed against him. His own eyes widened, reflected the light from her wings and her pain. But what she suffered was nothing compared to his own, to know that her lips could not feel him, no matter how hard she tried. He stayed rigid at first, letting her hold up his face as she imparted one last moment with him, despite the stares around them both. Both the shock from her friends and the aloofness from Remiel was palpable, but it was only the boy before her that mattered now, who always had mattered beyond her existence.

With a quiet sob, Lloyd grasped her hands, pressing them close as he kissed her back. His grip was strong, no matter how much it shook. He begged her for one more moment to stay, to be alive, to not leave him alone in a revived world. This was a terrible thing for her to do, but she wanted to be selfish, she wanted a chance to maybe feel him, finally.

Of course, she didn’t.

Colette let him go. She regretted his tears. I’m sorry.

---

So, did she deserve anything when she could finally laugh, taste and feel again?

Flanoir was a place unlike any other, a place where she could feel the numbness in her hands and be so grateful for such a thing. Lloyd had asked her to come with him outside, long after everyone else had slept. The later the hour, the colder it felt. She wanted all of that chill, all of the winter’s sharpness. The cloaks they both wore helped keep in some of the heat that she could feel too.

She could feel everything now, from the dampness of the snow through her mittens, to the brush of Lloyd’s hand when he helped her up from yet another fall.

“Your face is red though,” he said, grinning wide. The snowflakes caught onto his hair, clinging onto him tight. Few people were around now, and the snow held in all sound so that all she could feel and hear was him - like that night in the field.

She grinned back at him, giggles tumbling from her lips. “My whole body is cold, but my cheeks are burning!” She put his hands to her face - ungloved now, so that he could pack up a better snowball he had claimed! - a shiver passing through her as the chill of his skin intensified the winter all around. “See?”

“Heh, yeah…”

Lloyd’s smile was soft then, and she could see that he had already figured her out. Hands numb to the world, pressing against warmth that could not be felt. But where her own loss of sensations had been a stolen thing, a reminder of the nearness of her death, his had been given willingly to the snow, knowing that his sense of touch would return. It would not be without slight pain as the blood rushed back to his fingers, but that was the mark of his humanity, the mark of hers as the heat of her cheeks cooled pleasantly at his touch.

His kiss was slow at first, lingering. It recalled all the other lost moments, taken from their hearts with great hurt. Colette made a sound, a soft little strangle that echoed another from months before. She placed her own cold hands against his, and so he did not let go. Her sound only made his kiss deeper, made them both rush to grasp what they could before something else sought to separate them again. It was a sprint to go beyond innocence, for complete fulfillment. Still, there was the touch of first love, making its shaky steps from the night in the meadows outside Iselia.

His mouth released hers in complete reluctance, but there was no agony. Not anymore. He released his hands from her face, only to have them encircle her waist as he brought her close.

“I missed you,” he whispered into her hair. She heard tears in his voice, but for once did not feel any guilt for it. She embraced him back, pressing as close as she could, uncaring how it may seem. They had fought too long for this.

“Me too,” she said back, and brought his face back to hers. The sensations his mouth brought her, of a heated chest, of sparks shooting through her limbs, could not have been imagined. And she was glad for it.

[ifridiot]

WoW Fic: Edible

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: World of Warcraft Rating: Mature Warnings: Aftermath of Violence Relationships: Tal Runetotem (Tauren OC) + Bynx (Forsaken OC) Characters: Tal Runetotem, Bynx Additional Tags: Cannibalism, Vomit, Practical Decisions not Panning Out Summary: Tal hates waste, and he figures his undead buddy Bynx has a good idea when it comes to finding food after a battle. 

Bynx (actually named Daniel) belongs to @thats-so-ravenholm. This fic is like 7 years old, but I just found a flash drive with all my old WoW writing on it lmao.

---

As was common among his people, Tal abhorred waste. When he killed game, he used everything he could, even saving bones on occasion to use for carving. All that could be eaten, was, or at least was packed up for later consumption. Skins were collected, generally to be sold, as he’d only ruin them making anything himself. Tendons and sinews make good cord, and while his braiding was often clumsy at first, he found himself utterly capable of making solid rope from twisted strands of animal sinew. Everything in an animal’s body was a gift from the Earthmother, and it was blasphemous to squander such things.

So, despite knowing that most people loathed it, he very quickly came to appreciate Bynx’s occasional consumption of their fallen foes. They were always humanoid, and Bynx only seemed to eat those who had wounded him worst, but other than that the act seemed spontaneous, not malicious or profane.

In a way, Tal understood where the disgust came from, to the average person seeing a Forsaken dine in such a way. Especially those with a more sympathetic build to those being dined upon. There was something about it, a certain graceless voracity; it was messy and crude, just as all desperate battlefield meals were. If you were, say, a blood elf, watching a forsaken devour the flesh of, say, a night elf – or even a human – wouldn’t it be easy to image one’s own corpse treated in such a way? Indeed, even orcs and trolls shared enough basic features with Bynx’s intermittent meals for Tal to understand why they might reel away at the sight.

What Tal saw was an unconscious acknowledgment of the Earthmother’s ever-present gift. Perhaps if ever he saw a Forsaken munching on a Tauren corpse, he too would feel his guts revolt in disgust, but somehow he doubted it. Mostly he was just curious as the regulations of this strange ritual – what drove Bynx to it at such seemingly random intervals, what were the precedents for how much he ate and when? What was the meaning behind the act?

They had been traveling together just long enough for Tal to feel comfortable talking casually with the smaller male, but not long enough for him to even consider voicing a song as they walked. It was hard to work up the nerve at an appropriate moment to ask. There was a distinct chance that, had his wits always completely been about him, he never would have.

But after some time, there finally came a day when, having barely fought their way out of a mob, Tal stood leaning against his axe and panting as he watched Bynx curl over a corpse and begin to claw hunks of meat into his mouth, hot and raw. The smell in the air was foul, between the stench of death and Bynx’s wounds, the enormous Tauren couldn’t even smell his own blood, racing out of him from several rather serious wounds as it was, and he was dizzy and tired enough not to really give much thought to his mouth.

“Ey, Bynx… why does that, huh?”

The Forsaken paused, hand against his mouth as he raised his eyes to regard the larger male. Swallowing thickly, he wiped at the blood on his face, smearing gore more than removing it, before hissing out, “Do what?”

Gesturing vaguely at his companion and the corpse that had suddenly become dinner, Tal offered a shrug. “Eat him. Didn’t eat last time we fought here.”

“Nor did we almost die.” Bynx grumbled, digging his claws into the corpse and scratching up another palm-full of meat. He brought it to his mouth, glanced back up at the Tauren, and seemed to sigh in exasperation upon noting that the other’s curious stare hadn’t wavered at all. “Flesh for flesh,” he grudgingly said, eyes boring into Tal as he spoke. “I eat the flesh of the dead and heal my own.”

Comprehension was a little slower in his wounded state, but after a moment of mulling the words over, Tal’s eyes glinted in understanding. It wasn’t a ritual at all, but it made sense – if he could eat a wheel of cheese or a joint of venison and regain stamina and health, then did it not serve that any meat would do? And what were their fallen enemies then, as he had already noted, but so much meat?

He took a few steps toward the other, the motion shambling and filled with a pronounced limp. He had run out of potions long ago and they’d yet to make it anywhere to restock. As for food, he’d have to kill if he wanted to eat… and yet, it struck him, wasn’t that exactly the problem Bynx was solving right now?

“Ahh, always got a smart thing, you,” he said, looking at the bodies in a new light. One man’s arm had been severed at the elbow, and with the armor gone, the lone limb looked like nothing so much as a scrawny knuckle of meat. Holding onto his axe for balance, worried he’d fall otherwise, he bent to pick up the arm. It surprised him to feel the sharp sting of something striking his outstretched hand; he glanced at his companion, saw the knife that had been slapped against the back of his hand and the serious expression on the other’s face, and furrowed his brow in confusion. “I say ’sa good idea, and I like to try a thing for myself.”

When he moved again to take the arm, the flat of the blade slapped him once more, too fast for the eye to follow. It stung, even through the leather of his gloves. “Not for you.”

Straightening up with a low chuckle, the Tauren shook his head. Forsaken had never seemed territorial, but every race had its proclivity when it came to sharing meals. Especially with newer comrades. Using the axe like a walking stick, thanking the Earthmother for letting him find a weapon with such a stout handle, he limped toward a different body. “There, no need ta make like its theft. I got my own, killed my share and keep to mine then.”

“Tal,” Bynx hissed, his voice a low, unhappy growl, “This is a bad idea. Your people do not eat what mine do.”

Grasping the edge of a life-ending gash in the chest of a dead human soldier, Tal smiled to himself and shook his head. He’d eaten many things that most Tauren – honestly, most people in general – would shudder at. As a warrior and a young bull out on his own, he’d been stuck out in the field with no game to be had but wolves, had eaten bugs when there was nothing else. He was no stranger to raw meat, and while it certainly wasn’t his first choice, there were worse things to eat. He twisted his wrist as sharply as he could, pulling the flesh from the body. In his weakened condition, it took three tries, three sharp jerks, to finally rip the meat free. The rough sound of tearing flesh was incredibly unappealing, as was the stink of human blood and death lingering thick this close to the ground. But here before him was a means to soothe his aching wounds and heal some of his hurts.

He brought the limp, tepid meat to his mouth, trying not to breathe the stink of it, and ignored Bynx’s warning not to be an idiot. At this point, it was almost a matter of stubborn pride; he’d said he would, and by the Earthmother he wasn’t a liar or a coward. Closing his eyes, he opened his mouth, shoved the chunk of meat in, and chewed. The flavor was coppery and gamey and pungent, blood having been allowed to cool in the body before being carved, but it wasn’t all around bad.

Still, it made his guts churn, the unfamiliar sensation of nausea crawling up his throat, but he swallowed it down with the meat and opened his eyes to look at Bynx. It was something of a surprise to find the Forsaken staring intently at him, looking almost anxious. “Not a good meat, but passable in a pinch.” He said, ignoring the way his stomach was still fighting the raw, strange food thrust upon it. “Sure not somethin’ to make habits about, but…” he grumbled, reaching down to rip another chunk of flesh up.

Whatever else he might have said was lost as he bent slightly forward, trying to get better leverage to pull the meat free. His stomach gave a final roil, the sudden pain of a cramp lacing through him, and he opened his mouth with a low moan. Saliva pooled in his mouth, throat working in anticipation as his stomach heaved; his grip on the axe faltered and the weapon clattered over the corpse as he fell to the side, arms wrapping instinctively around his guts. He managed to roll to the side, getting his less-injured arm under himself to push up on hands and knees, before he lost the contents of his stomach on the bloody ground.

Having rarely in life been sick, the experience was novel, in a grotesque way. The vomit was alarmingly red, and the sight and sensation of that foul meat spilling out of him only worsened the nausea; he gagged again, coughing when his stomach finally ran out of fuel to expel. He shuddered, the arm supporting his weight feeling weak and jelly-like, but the thought of ‘jelly’ made him think in a weird way of the soft, seemingly innocuous meat he’d just eaten, and he gagged again, spitting bile.

The careful touch of boney fingers on his bare shoulder surprised him, but he didn’t trust himself to look over his shoulder at his friend. He could tell by the astringent stench of the other’s wounds that it was Bynx; the smell of his vomit mixing with that particular odor causing him to gag again, and he gave a weak, unhappy sound as he tried to swallow back a fresh wave of nausea.

Letting that sharp hand guide him back, he pushed himself to a kneel, up away from the worst of the stink. “I told you it was a bad idea,” Bynx said softly, somehow not making the words sound like a jibe or gloat. Tal could only manage another low moan, nodding his shaggy head because, obviously and as usual, Bynx had been correct. “Get up, away from your mess. C’mon.”

Forsaken were surprisingly strong, but even in this state Tal refused to put any weight on his small companion, instead carefully getting to his feet on his own. As he stood, Bynx’s hand slid from his shoulder to his elbow, and finally off him entirely. He disappeared from the Tauren’s view for a moment, returning with Tal’s axe dragging behind him. Hefting it awkwardly, he thrust it into the other’s hand, before moving to point at a boulder a little ways away from the site of their battle.

“Go sit. I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”

Not willing to argue, probably honestly incapable of it, Tal leaned against his axe again and made his shaking way to where he’d been pointed. Behind him, he could hear Bynx return to his feast. Part of him expected to feel a sharp return of his fading nausea as the sound of tearing flesh, but even when he thought about what Bynx was doing, he only felt the lingering misery of his mistaken meal. For Bynx, such was natural behavior.

For a Tauren, obviously, it was not. Just as some plants were poisonous to man but not the birds of the area, so too, it seemed, were some meats poison only to some. Human was, obviously, on the list of things inedible to him.

It was kind of shame, he thought as he sat, curled miserably over his cramped, aching stomach. The meat was so easy to come by and so often went to waste.

[sleepykalena]

“It’s not a problem if you don’t look up.”

I’m a POC and I love Jyn Erso.

And lately it seems like there are some folks (literally just a few folks, afaik) who seem keen on painting parts of the fandom with such a broad brush that their shouting has made their way into my corner. It’s such an angry brush, and I understand where the frustration comes from. But I’d like to remind anyone who’s bothered to actually look at this post:

Fandom is what you make of it.

I mean this in the intended sense as well as with regards to the things you create and put out there in the fandom itself. I don’t want to contribute to the anger or the fighting. I go out of my way to try and not pick fights with people. Yet somehow the fighting finds me. The real life has me tired. So tired. Between the Orange Skull, the racist white folk who decide to actively trash my POC friends and neighbors in one of the most liberal areas of the US, and politics within the industry I chose to have a career in, I just want to sit in my corner and do my thing on my own terms, with the people who’ve supported me, in my own little section of the Rebelcaptain fandom.

So here’s the thing about Jyn Erso, and why I love her so much: “it’s not a problem if you don’t look up.”

I have been raised as a second-generation Asian-American to keep my head down, stay quiet and don’t cause a stir, and just try and climb your way out of your social class and aim for a higher rung on the ladder. I was blessed to be raised with a level of privilege that the military comfortably provided me, with an income that brought food to the table and helped pay my tuition.

But that doesn’t change the atrocities committed against me as a female and a POC- the emotional manipulation, the sexual assault, the slurs thrown at me from people of all walks of life.

Regardless, I kept my head down and didn’t bother to “look up”. I literally do not like to look people in the eyes, because it implies I’m itching for a fight or a confrontation. I kept quiet where I could. I tried to make change where I was able to, knowing full well that it would make a difference. I would try my hardest to help others (and sometimes a little too hard if I think back on the last few months), only to find myself still beaten down by some other entity- be it the people I once trusted, by the powers that be in government, or even down to the people who try to fight for causes I also believe in. But if you piss me off enough, if you push my patience to the very edge and test me, then I will lose all sense of remorse for whatever I do unto you when I snap.

Jyn’s emotional development and attitudes aren’t too different from my own, and I love that this was written in to her character. Her character arc lines up so well with my own life and experiences that I will continue to write about her and draw her until my wrists break.

I also love Cassian Andor, but it has less to do with Diego Luna and more to do with my significant other (who, for the record, is also Latinx).

It seems expected that I would like him, given that I’m a rebelcaptain shipper, Lunatic, and likewise a fellow POC. But if it weren’t for my partner and all the qualities I see in him as I see them in Cassian, I don’t actually think I could be as fervent a rebelcaptain shipper as I am right now. Cassian’s brightest character points, as well as his darkest ones, are very easily found in my partner. In the same way that Cassian gave Jyn hope, my partner gives me hope in a world that deserves to be burning in the depths of whatever hell you happen to believe in. In the same way that Cassian internalizes all his character flaws, so too does my partner try his hardest not to dwell too much on the negative aspects about him. He’s quiet, a man of few words, and even fewer true ones. Cassian speaks just enough for people to be appeased, but the words carry little meaning, a ploy to comfort people to make sure he can live to fight another day. His words of honesty, of thoughts in his mind, are rare, and shared only to those he finds himself trusting. My partner is hardly any different.

But, if there’s anything he let himself admit to me, it’s that he loves that I’m there for him when he needs it, and that I’ve taught him to be less apathetic. Me, the cynic, the one bitter with the real world, had taught him to be less apathetic. Who’da thunk?

In every piece of fanfic I write, I almost inevitably fall back on this: Jyn teaches Cassian something that changes him for the better. It brings me immense joy to be told that I, a Jyn, had helped him, a Cassian, to be less apathetic, to care just a little bit more about his actions, how they affect others, and why he should take more effort to visibly care just a little bit more.

Is it a problematic trope? Sure, according to some of those folks in the fandom. But I write these stories because, for once, I made a difference to my partner’s life, to someone’s life. To me, Jyn teaching Cassian a thing is a result of her finally making a difference in a galaxy where she was inundated with the idea that her existence doesn’t matter, that what she does makes very little difference. My reasons for writing fic are intensely personal, and there are bits of me and my partner scattered in all of them, in various proportions.

What I don’t appreciate is being told that, as a POC and based on my personal experiences, my “silence” and refusal to be loud and join this tirade of sorts makes me complicit in what is allegedly rampant sexism and racism in the fandom.

Being a POC, particularly a WOC, puts a target on my back on the internet. I keep quiet, especially with regards to my racial identity, precisely because I know how dangerous it can be to open my mouth and scream too loudly into the void. Out of all the fights I want to pick, fandom “discourse” is far and away from my list of priorities. I’m busy trying to get my representatives in to make actual difference in my city, state, and country, informing myself for the broader problems that exist outside of this fandom, making money to put food on the table, etc. All I want to do is enjoy my corner of the fandom in peace, and not have an extra “duty” to fight this racial fight at the risk of looking like “a bad POC”. If anything, that puts an onus on POC to be “perfect” with all that preaching, and not only am I far from perfect, I also think that expectation is damaging to the movement as a whole.

Much like Jyn, you could ask me if I care not for the cause. Much like Jyn, I do. But, cynically, I have to say again: “It’s not a problem if you don’t look up”. Making that much noise to fight a cause is a huge waste of my time and effort because I’m surrounded by people who either 1) are so fully-formed in their development that they’re set in their ways and are otherwise unchangeable; 2) are already are aware of these issues and tropes, and thus I’d be preaching to the choir; or 3) don’t care for my existence because I’m not really a big name in the fandom.

But the biggest reason why I don’t make a huge noise about it is because fandom is what you make of it. These people literally have every right to write whatever trope they want, including exceedingly problematic ones, because- you guessed it- it’s their space too. I acknowledge that their presence exists and I refuse to share my space with them, but so long as you’ve written your line in the sand over your space, I won’t interfere with your space. Don’t interfere with mine. Any overlapping peers who happen to like us both are free to cross to and from the borders. My kink is not your kink, my headcanon is not your headcanon, but so what? I’ll still tell people to write that stuff anyway. Because that’s what they want to make of fandom, whether or not it’s canon/fanon, whether or not I like it.

I fight problematic tropes by setting an example. If kudos, views, notes, and comments are currency, then I, as one could phrase it, “talk with my money”. And believe me, some people have got me feeling pretty stingy. I think it’s far more effective to incite change in this small fandom by creating content that (hopefully) sets an example that inspires others to do things a little more like the way I do them, rather than trying to scream at people. I try my hardest not to adhere to these tropes or dynamics I find disagreeable. I boycott content from certain users if I find their presence and/or actions a threat to my enjoyment of the fandom. And I block people who regularly engage in fandom wank and abuse the tagging system. In a fandom that seems to be increasingly sensitive to note counts and feedback, my withholding of attention is a more than effective tool at showing people that I don’t like their stuff.

Does it create an echo chamber? You betcha! But this is my echo chamber; the real world is already looming over me with its own set of drama. Creating an echo chamber for my corner of the fandom and making a safe space out of it is something I deserve as a human being.

I’m relatively confident that others have taken the same policy and thus do not give me their attention to any of the things I’ve created. And that’s perfectly okay. It sucks, but it’s perfectly okay, because I don’t owe them my time just as much as they don’t owe me theirs.

I will fight by encouraging change to those in my purview in my own terms, in my own way. I refuse to be painted with this brush of being uncaring and complicit, especially when all I’ve seen from those people is hate against the enemies and very little uplifting, encouragement, and love to the ones they claim to fight for. I don’t even think they’ve read or liked a single thing I’ve ever made in the fandom; I am, in short, a POC not worth supporting. What’s more, their shouting had become so loud and so angry that I nearly cancelled a fic because it was a modern AU in which Cassian is Mexican-American and speaks Spanish off and on depending on the situation. I planned for him to speak Chicano English by default, but use Californian English whenever he’s outside his own home. I chose them because I think his identity and accent matter to the plot. These people, who were so fed up with the use of the Spanish language and Mexican identity for Cassian, had me scared to ever write this fic even though people I’ve discussed the story with insist that this upcoming fic is perfectly fine. It was hard to hear their support when the loudest voice in my head repeated all those gripes that other people had about the depiction of POC in the Rebelcaptain fandom, and it took several tries and a relentless barrage of support to give me back the courage to draft this fanfic, which has a huge socio-political slant specifically targeting the POC of the Rogue One squad.

The people who encouraged me to do it? Still predominantly white folk (and I deliberately choose not to use the word “women” here). I get support from people of different racial identities as well, no doubt (and one POC in particular comes to mind because she’s been my loudest supporter since I officially entered the fandom), but most of them have been white. 

My corner of the fandom has been peaceful and the least problematic, and the people are, at their very core, truly lovely people. I’m sorry that people mistake my alleged silence for compliance. I’m sorry that people find my work so uninteresting that it’s not worth their time to give me their support. I’m sorry that some people are finding their corner of the fandom violated and full of toxicity that no amount of blocking can help matters.

But please, for the love of every deity in human existence, keep your anger away from my corner of the fandom. I only get a few hours each week to myself, and I’ve chosen to spend it here. I want to make each minute count. And the next minute, and the next, on and on until I’m satisfied with my contributions here, or until the minutes are spent. Let me love Jyn and Cassian in my own way. Let me celebrate their relationship in my own way. Let me fight my fight in my own way. If you don’t like it, that’s fine! Use that currency I mentioned earlier and take your money elsewhere. But do not dictate how I should act within my space and place expectations on me because I’m a POC, and do not make assumptions about my character.

[raijinhasverybigpecs]

What I want to hear more than anything is any and all of your thoughts involving Kushinada? Because I LIVE of them I need all of your ramblings about her and every AU she is currently apart of. You could type out thousands of words and I'd still want more.

since you did write about that hot fenrir X kushinada stuff in your latest fic (which was the most adorable thing btw omg) i figured i might provide a few scenarios for that (a few meaning 1000+ words of cute stuff oops! never mind it’s 2000+ hahaha fuck)

high school au

i know i said it in the dating sim route for fenrir but him giving his leather jacket to kushinada when they go out and it’s cold??? that’s one of my fav tropes omg

also kushinada accidentally comparing fenrir to a loyal dog when talking to aphro and light hel and him overhearing that and being all embarrassed about it bc he can’t deny that he’s literally a dog in human form

he has a very strong sense of smell, always noticing all the flower perfumes that kushinada wears and he always compliments her about how nice she smells even when she’s come back from her garden (he likes the smells of nature hehe)

also he’s very protective of her and gives people the nastiest stares if they say anything remotely negative about her. when kushinada opens up about having an unrequited crush on cu chu and her past with relationship with susano she has to drag away fenrir and get him to promise not to fight those two on sight

also it’s a lil nsfw but i think he’s totally into leaving hickeys around the place so when kushinada shows up at school on a super hot day with a scarf aphro is like “so things must be moving nicely between you and fenrir huh?” and kushinada is just a blushing mess and silently nods

oh, and him just resting his head on kushinada’s when she’s gardening and wrapping his arms around her UwU

so when they start dating i really like the idea of fenrir learning how to grow stuff with kushinada (and him actually having a decent green thumb after learning the basics)

also i couldn’t get the idea out of my idea about fenrir trying to grow kushinada roses/or forget-me-nots/camellias(they all mean love apparently?? that’s cute n sappy hehe) and trying to keep it a secret from her

so while he’s checking some plants during club time, fenrir just snatches a seed packet from her collection and takes her gardening equipment and other materials when he needs them

bc he’s just a beginner he fails pretty badly and goes around asking for help from tyr (as he’s been talking about kushinada w/ tyr who serves as a sorta personal confidant and a father figure who is more stern w/ fenrir than loki). tyr’s all for this as that’s how he wooed ullr over on their first date (and promptly got laid as well) so they both read a few gardening books and search the internet for info…

…unfortunately tyr’s pretty shit w/ gardening as well so they ask chiron for help and, although he’s got the knowledge, it somehow doesn’t work out either…

…so they ask for inari’s help which who suggests that they just hire a professional gardener or just buy some really expensive and rare flowers for her(which they’ll pay for; inari is all for fenrir trying to be romantic and trying to cater to kushinada’s interestseven if it doesn’t turn out)

fenrir eventually decides to come clean and presents her with what he’s got and kushinada kisses him for all his effort UwU. she really appreciates the effort even if she was aware that he was stealing from her the entire time (she’s gotta keep a tight budget with the club, the school only gives her a certain amount of money to run the place and it’s she may be forgetful at times but her equipment disappearing every time fenrir was around was a lil convenient)

also if we’re going full cheese then i want fenrir to confess his love to kushinada all anime-style w/ cherry blossoms and everything :’^)))))) like kushinada would be the first to say that she loves him but it’s really hard for him to say, like he’ll just say “i do too” and avoid saying “i love you”

also just in general they’d probs both like going out to parks, botanical garden or go hiking and have peaceful walks when kushinada points out all the plants while fenrir listens, he likes hearing her ramble on bc it’s cute seeing her so excited about something

so they’re at some botanical garden place and kushinada is really excited and basically dragging fenrir by the arm to point out all the different flower types but all he can think about is how much she’s changed him for the better, how he doesn’t deserve her at all. he’s just smitten with her, with how adorable she is when she’s ranting, even if he’s heard all the information before - he just wants to listen to her beautiful voice. and, wow, she looks so stunning amongst the blooming flowers and he thinks, no, he knows he’s in love with her and how he wants to marry her and that sorta mushy stuff hehe

kushinada snaps him out of his thoughts by asking if she’s boring him with her explanations and then he just blurts out that he loves her and it’s just silence between the two for a moment before kushinada, as the sappy bitch she is, starts crying tears of joy and leaps into his arms :’))))))) (yes i’m the world’s softest bitch, what about it)

mafia au

fenrir stumbles into kushinada’s bakery after a street fight with a rival gang, all bloody and bruised and telling her to not touch him before promptly passing out. kushinada tends to his injuries while he’s out and drags him into her beroom falling asleep beside the bed bc she was so exhausted from work + this incident

fenrir wakes up with a nasty headache, only made worse by him not knowing where he is - he’s still alive, probably due to the beautiful japanese woman uncomfortably lying on the side of the bed with bandages in her hands. he knows he could snap her neck with ease, but something in the back of his mind tells him not to - tyr’s words and actions ring in his ears

also on a side note i’m imagining that fenrir has a rough childhood bc of loki being involved in shady gang operations and that fenrir was preened by him to succeed him but fenrir was betrayed by the norse gang and left to get caught by the cops during a major heist. i imagine that tyr, a cop (duh), went onto the scene and tried to communicate with a scared and furious fenrir. fenrir probably lashed out at him, scarring tyr’s arm (and then it later being infected or something? i’m not here for arm severing lmao) and then breaking down in his arms while tyr comforted him.

fenrir spent some time in prison after that and got out due to tyr lobbying for him and he’s trying to separate himself from his family and old ties to his gang although it obviously catches up with him here :^)

the attack was probably bc in the past fenrir was an asshole and very cocky, brash and abusive to others and he made a lot of enemies bc he thought we was untouchable as one of the norse gang members with really high connections bc of his father

anyways fenrir explores the small apartment before hearing the ring of the bell downstairs (i imagine the bakery to underneath a small apartment like this). he walks to check that out, hiding on the stairs just in case the gang members have found where he ended up

fortunately (or rather, unfortunately) for him it’s not the gang members - it’s inari, wanting to get a pastry and tea from her favourite bakery. when they can’t see kushinada or smell anything being made that’s when they decide to check on her

fenrir makes a mad dash for kushinada’s room, pretending to sleep once again while kushinada is in the shower. she gets out and greets inari, trying to nicely introduce the topic of the strange and ruggedly handsome man resting in her room (it just hit me that this is essentially just that scene from tangled but inari isn’t an evil hag lmao)

inari is really annoyed - they don’t want kushinada to get further involved with any more gang acitivity than she already is and they know about fenrir’s past and what he’s done. they fight for a bit before inari relents, knowing that coddling kushinada and treating her like a defenceless child isn’t going to help her out any.

fenrir is shitting himself - he never expected to get so close to the elusive and destructive inari and it doesn’t help that inari ends the conversation with “if he does anything to hurt you i’ll make sure to put that mangy mutt down and make him regret ever stepping out of prison” before asking kushinada to have a cup of tea with her

after they’re done, kushinada comes up while fenrir pretends to wake up for the first time. she checks on his injuries and she asks about what happened to him but he shuts her down before she has to chance to speak and tries to leave - of course, in his injured state he just makes things worse and falls over. kushinada scolds him for trying to move in this state, and says that even if he won’t co-operate that she’s still going look after him just to prove inari that she can handle looking after herself when dealing with the mafia business.

she leaves for a bit and brings a breakfast tray for him. he wolves it down, reluctantly saying thanks and apologising for his manners - kushinada finds him kinda cute when he’s all blushing and red (although she won’t admit it). she tries to more subtly ask what happened to make him so ravenous but he brushes her off again. fenrir asks for some coffee instead of the tea she’s brought and she makes sure that he uses his manners this time.

she goes down again, leaving fenrir to his own devices. he eventually walks around the apartment for a bit, taking special notice of all the greenery around the place. she pops up behind him while he’s admiring some lillies. he asks how she gets the plants to look so nice - she says that you can gorw anything as long as the conditions are right

then their usual routine sets in - kushinada will get up before him and they’ll eat meals with each other while she runs the bakery downstairs, popping up whenever she has the time to see him.

when he can walk without major discomfort again then kushinada gets him to man the counter and when his arm heals she starts teaching him about how to bake to tend to her plants - he’s not half bad at either activity and when he’s polished his skills enough he makes breakfast for her UwU

of course y’all can imagine as many fluff moments as possible while they fall in love and that cute stuff like

fenrir talking about his tats and what they mean

talking about his past, maybe a lil bit of angst and comfort bc i’m a sucker for emotion support scenes

cute baking moments, fenrir licking the spoon and kushinada getting on his case about that

i’m sure you can think of a few dramatic situations to progress the plot but i’m just here for fluff hehe

or maybe something about fenrir running into some old gang members and them giving him shit about losing his edge and how pathetic he looks manning the bakery - he’s barely keeping himself together but he does for his and kushinada’s relationship together but he snaps when one of the group starts talking about kushinada and threatening to attack her to coax the old fenrir out. it probs gets into a bad back alley sprawl with the gang needing a large ambulance as a result of his anger (i like to imagine that inari was watching around the corner ready to back him up and they’re like “good job kid”)

and maybe fenrir’s family comes to see him?? at the very least i want light hel to work for kushinada at the bakery bc i want Dramatic™ family reunions yo and she’d fit the role p well

[forest-of-stories]

Fanfic Writer’s Year in Review!

I was tagged by @letterblade! <333

The following post will focus stories that I posted in their entirety on AO3 in 2018, and so will not include my X-Men: Evolution WIP Ordinary Town (which I started posting in 2017 and will probably finish this year), or most of the scenes in my Knight and Mage AU (although they total almost 5,000 words, which is Not Too Shabby).

Also, I’m skipping a couple of questions about character and pairing breakdowns.  Spoiler: while I wrote in a few different fandoms last year, I probably wrote more about one character and pairing than all of the others combined.

The stories...

Black Lightning:

Overridden (110 words)

Doctor Who

Three Heads Are Better (180 words)

Gravity Falls:

Like Something From A Dream (635 words)

Odd Twins Out (640 words)

Most Likely To Stay Weird (160 words)

Following Ghosts (1,020 words)

Tell You Anything (500 words)

Seen And Not Heard (2,940 words)

Only One Step Away (200 words)

Star Wars:

Treading Water (380 words)

Your Own Heart As Signal (500 words)

Light Me Up Again (415 words)

Mark My Words (600 words)

Secrets Silenced By The Shame (515 words)

Thank You For Sharing (310 words)

Fold Your Wings (165 words)

Stranger Things:

Missing Girls (560 words)

Tortall:

And We Are Left Standing (340 words)

Set Alight (400 words)

Wrapped In Darkness (465 words)

To See A Friend Go Down in Flames (1,000 words)

Those Seasons Made Up And Undone (1,815 words)

Moves and Countermoves (1,060 words)

We Were Meant To Be Sparks of Light (335 words)

Dreams Of The Spider (1,135 words)

Merciless Kisses (435 words)

If Your Strife Strikes At Your Sleep (670 words)

Sealed With A Spell (185 words)

The Cold Is Closing In (2,072 words)

In Winter Light (608 words)

Great Minds Together (240 words)

And I Start To Drown (1,895 words)

Only The Finest (185 words)

Captive Listener (240 words)

Flight of Curiosity (535 words)

Out Of The Rain (200 words)

As I Burn Up In Your Presence (2,412 words)

Total Fics: 37 Total Words:  c. 30,000

Specifics…

Best/worst title?

Best title:  Excluding the ones that come from songs (which is many of them)? I’m pretty happy with “Flight of Curiosity” and “Mark My Words,” both of which contain puns/double meanings while also – I think – saying something about the characters or tone of the stories.

Worst title: “In Winter Light” is serviceable, but I think I could have done better, and consequently ended up with one less title that included some variation on the word “light.”

Best/worst first line?

Best first line:  The shape of Arram’s mind is as familiar as the long, lean body that trembles beneath Ozorne’s hands.  (”Great Minds Together”) 

Really, what’s better than a sexy mindmeld between mage boyfriends who will one day be enemies? Nothing, that’s what.

Worst first line:  Alex sometimes feels more than a little bit dazed after talking to his knight-master, and so it takes him a moment to react – a moment that could have cost his life in a fight – when another familiar voice calls his name. (”And I Start To Drown”)

I’ve written a few first lines that tried to establish too much in one go, and that’s definitely one of them.

Best/worst last line?

Best last line: Much later, lying sore and spent in the darkness, Alex still isn’t sure whether he’s been punished or forgiven. (”Merciless Kisses”)

I think that does a good job of conveying something that I hope is apparent throughout my Tortall Trash Fire fics: that Alex almost but doesn’t quite realize how bad Roger is for him.

Worst last line: Alex turns another page, still uneasy, but certain that Roger will know what to do. He always knows. (”Those Seasons Made Up and Undone”)

I’m proud of that story, for the most part, but that line didn’t wrap it up as elegantly as I would have liked.

General questions…

Looking back, did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, less than you thought, or about what you predicted?

I can rarely predict these things.  My total number of works is higher than it’s been in past years, but some of those works are really, really tiny.

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted last year?

Tortall, without question.  I read and reread the Song of the Lioness books when I was younger, but another fan’s incidental comment about Alex motivated me to take another look at them.  And even when I realized how much the implications about his relationship with Roger (which mostly unfolds behind the scenes) pushed all of my buttons, I’m not sure I could have predicted that I’d be writing so much about it.

I am also not a huge fan of Rey/Kylo (though I totally understand why some people are!), so “Thank You For Sharing” was also decidedly unexpected, though I don’t plan to write them doing anything more than fantasizing about each other.

What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest.

Probably “The Cold Is Closing In.”  There’s a lot of unexplored potential in Alex’s relationship with his own squire, and it’s always fun to write a character that understands a lot less than the reader (especially if someone else is manipulating their perceptions).

Okay, NOW your most popular story.

I was bemused to find out that “Secrets Silenced By The Shame” had the most kudos, especially since it was a Dead Dove ficlet written for a kink meme, focusing on the pain and anguish of a character about whom I have very mixed feelings, and I hid it behind an “Anonymous Creator” byline until very recently. Story most underappreciated by the universe?

I would have liked to see “Following Ghosts” get some more love, especially since the Gravity Falls fandom seems pretty fond of Wendy (as well we should be).

I always have a hard time answering this question, and it’s even trickier when thinking about the past year, since my most recent primary fandom is not what I would call a hotbed of activity, at least on AO3.  (They have a message board that is somewhat busier, but I haven’t investigated it much.)

Story that could have been better?

“Set Alight” could have worked better as part of a longer work (I can even guess at which one), but I was still very much testing those fannish waters at that point, so I can sort of understand why I was like, “Throw it at the wall and see if it sticks.”

Sexiest story?

I’m very happy with the third section of “Those Seasons Made Up and Undone,” which I think is Hot Wrong all over the place, but “As I Burn Up In Your Presence” had more sexy (and also Wrong) bits, and I’m pretty happy with those, too.

Saddest story?

Everything about Alex’s downward spiral is saddening to me. “To See a Friend Go Down in Flames” gives an outsider perspective on that spiral, so maybe that one.  “Missing Girls” and “Secrets Silenced by the Shame” are also meant to evoke a lot of pity and horror for the characters, and “Your Own Heart as Signal” is very much about grief, so maybe those.

Most fun?

“Most Likely to Stay Weird” (Waddles for Most Valuable Pig!). Story with single sweetest moment?

Either Kali giving Eleven calming visions in “Missing Girls” or the OT3 snuggles in “Flight of Curiosity.”

Hardest story to write?

I had never tried anything like the structure of “Seen And Not Heard,” and it took a fair amount of trial and error before I figured how to organize the sections and transition between them.

Easiest/most fun story to write?

“Merciless Kisses” (it helped that I had a really good set of prompts), or “Moves and Countermoves” (I often cackle when writing Roger, but probably never more than when he was trying to get under Myles’ skin).

Did any stories shift your perceptions of the characters?

The need for a fifth POV in “To See A Friend Go Down in Flames” gave rise to some very persistent headcanons about Geoffrey, a character who gets little to no canon characterization.  Also, although my Thoughts About Kylo Ren would probably derail this post more than any of us want or need, I sure did write a lot about his feelings last year.

Most overdue story?

“Following Ghosts” and “Seen And Not Heard” are both based on ideas that I’d referenced in previous works and wanted to follow up on ever since.  On the other hand, I’ve wanted to write the exact scenario in “Three Heads Are Better” for roughly a dozen years.

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

I think I learned a little bit more about how to set and contextualize a scene from the structure of “Seen And Not Heard,” which was, again, a pretty big risk.

What are your fic writing goals for next year?

The first ones that come to mind are: wrap up this round of H/C Bingo, whip another “You Cannot Save Him With Your Love, Geoffrey” story into shape, and finally finish Ordinary Town.  More or less in that order.

I’ll tag @ellekess and anybody else who wants to do it!

[thisiswhereifall]

Struggling to continue but I'm back

Hi! I'm back! Maybe not for long, but here I am!

College has been keeping me busy but I promise to do my best to keep contributing to this wonderful fandom. I love this ship so much, and it needs more art and fics. I'm proud of us, guys!

Anyway, I sort of mixed the prompts Secrets, Peanut Butter Cookies, and Headphones here to make up for lost time. Thank you all for your patience!

----------- o -----------

Keith wouldn't say that he actually had an idea of what's going on, but he did have one.

Keith normally never cared about anything that didn't involve fighting, war, or his identity and he still doesn't.

Keith had a habit of not setting issues aside and he does not intend to try solving a problem later on if it could be solved now.

Keith had an idea of what's going on, and even though he would never care about what comes of it, he will most definitely not just set it aside. It might affect teamwork, after all. Might.

And it all started with one simple question.

“Pidge, can I borrow your headphones?”

Keith usually didn't borrow anyone else's stuff. He'd prefer improvising his own method and equipment than owe anyone a favor, and it wasn't because he was cold and anti-social like the girl in front of him always says. He just wasn't used to kindness, being alone for most of his life. It could use some getting used to, now that he literally lived with a bunch of people unrelated to him in any shape or form – they were full human and he was not – and he would have to make a few adjustments to his lifestyle.

And although he will never admit it – and he doesn't plan to – he really missed music. It kept him company back on Earth, when he went for days with no one to talk to or care for him. Aside from training, Keith really liked music.

But he wasn't going to ask Coran or Allura to blast his favorite bands through Altean speakers. That would blow his cover and worse, get judged for his taste. Not like his taste was bad, he just knew that someone – namely, Lance – never fails to make fun of completely normal stuff.

So, he had no choice but to ask the only person he knew wouldn’t blabber about anything unnecessary.

“What do you need my headphones for?” Pidge's emphasis on the possessive pronoun made Keith cringe a little. He almost forgot that the girl values her equipment as if they were rare treasures(they are). Keith swallowed, and the two engaged in a staring contest when Pidge looked up from the machine she was building. Keith could feel Green's eyes on him, too, and he finally figured that he was, in reality, in the Green Paladin's territory.

He didn't break the eye contact, because he didn't want to seem nervous. “Uh, I…” Oh, great. He stuttered. “I just wanted to listen to something while training…” His voice lowered and he held his head low.

When Pidge eyed him, he already knew what her answer would be.

“That's… really a good thing to know. I didn't know you enjoyed music.” Pidge commented, and Keith almost yelled at her when she smirked mischievously. “But, uh, I…” Her voice trailed off, and she started adjusting her glasses. Keith knew – she was trying to find her words and was really nervous doing so.

As much as he wanted to listen to some music – and he just found out that Coran had access to Earth music earlier during breakfast talk – he felt bad making Pidge anxious. She was never really good with words. “You don't let anyone borrow your equipment.” The sentence came out colder than he expected it would.

Alarmed, Pidge's eyes widened in panic. “W-W-Wait! Okay, so maybe you're right, I don't let people borrow or touch my stuff, but I swear it's nothing personal, like, I like you, wait no! I only like you as a friend, nothing mushy or whatever, so it would be okay for you to borrow my things, but I just really feel uncomfortable when someone borrows my stuff and I swear I really like you – as a friend! Because I like someone else, and…”

Keith's ears perked up.

“Come again?” He immediately cut her off, and he could see the terror in her eyes while she tried to adjust her glasses frantically. Knowing that she wouldn't repeat any of the things she said, he decided to cut to the chase, as usual. “ You like someone?”

“I-It's not like that!” Keith was amused now. He had never seen Pidge so flustered before. Her confident façade faded and all he could see now was a girl who was desperately trying to hide her embarrassment. “I like him as a friend, too!”

Keith raised an eyebrow. If it was a friend, he was one hundred percent sure that the person was in this ship. After all, Pidge didn't seem like she had anyone she could call a friend before. Much like him.

Before he could push any further, Pidge turned away from him, working on her project once again. “Look, I'm really busy and sorry for the, uh, headphone thing. I need to finish this today, too.” And Keith left, deciding to ignore the fact that her hands were so sweaty and the tools kept slipping from her grasp.

Of course, that didn't stop him from training. For a while, he completely forgot about the earlier incident while he was facing the gladiator, not to mention, he lost interest quickly. It was a personal matter and he didn't want to pry any further into a silly thing.

That was until he and Hunk were sitting in the common room, and the door opened.

“Hey, Hunk, got any food in the kitchen?” Keith looked up to see a certain blue idiot by the door. Nothing special. Just Lance. He would ask Hunk for food every now and then, and this was normal.

Except he came in wearing Pidge's headphones around his neck.

“Uh, I think I left some of the improvised peanut butter stuff thing on the table.” Hunk answered. “We also have the alien bread that Coran really liked. He got a whole bunch of them from the Space Mall.” The Yellow Paladin quickly followed up. Lance tilted his head, confusion written all over his face.

“I don't really like peanut butter. Did you know peanuts cause acne? Not having any of that.” Keith blinked at Lance as he talked. As the Blue Paladin rubbed his head and turned to leave, Keith opened his mouth to speak.

“Did you just take that without permission?” Keith's accusing voice caused Lance to turn around with a scowl on his face. Hunk looked back and forth between the two, puzzled.

“What?” Lance replied without delay, taken aback by the sudden random question from his rival. Keith didn't seem pleased about having to point out what exactly he was talking about, but he did nonetheless. Lance eyes narrowed when Keith raised a finger to point at him – was that his middle finger? – or not at him, but his neck.

And when Lance's hand traced the object around his neck, his scowl disappeared upon realization. “Excuse me? I asked her nicely and she told me it was okay.” He turned to leave again. “Besides, she lets me use it every night before going to bed.” And with that, Lance left, leaving Keith to wonder about what just happened.

Lance passed by the common room again soon after, holding a plate with two peanut butter(?) sandwiches as he went to enter the opposite hallway from the kitchen. Didn't he say he didn't like peanut butter? Huh.

Of course, Keith knew there was something weird going on, but he hardly gave much thought on it. The days proceeded as normal, and the battles were won flawlessly – except that one time Hunk failed to break through an enemy barrier because he thought his Lion could, and Shiro had to save him from being melted by the nuclear material of the enemy defenses. The druids were getting more creative in their weapons.

Oh, and that one time, too.

It was just one little thing, no big deal. If Allura didn't say anything, Keith wouldn't notice – he was too busy maneuvering through the glaciers covered by the thick fog in the ice planet.

“I can't seem to find Lance. Paladins, the fog is interfering with the castle's sensors!” Allura's voice was glitching through the comms and Keith could tell that the Lion's sensors were also weakening. He immediately pulled on the controls, almost hitting a huge glacier, if not only for Red's agility.

“Lance—with me…--- found--- stuck in the – requ-- ck-up now!” Pidge's voice cut through the comms and it caught Keith's attention. “What?” He heard Shiro respond. Keith made a choice to fly up and out of the atmosphere, trying to receive the message.

“I said, Lance is with me! He found the prisoners stuck in a cave, we request back-up now!” Pidge's voice was loud and clear now, and Keith stopped himself from asking something entirely different.

Hunk beat him to it.

“You didn't split up? I thought we were supposed to split up. I go close to the ground, Keith would fly across the glaciers, Shiro and Pidge were supposed to fend off the incoming Galra ships, and Lance would--"

There was an air of awkward silence in the comms. It was a very short silence, almost unnoticeable, or maybe Keith was just overthinking things.

“Never mind that now, Paladins, we've got company!” Allura shouted, and a humongous blast caught everyone's attention. Without pressing on the issue further, they formed Voltron and took on the enemies with ease.

Nobody questioned anything further nor did the two receive scolding from either Shiro or Allura. It was like an unspoken message between all of them.

The next morning(?), a pissed-off Keith stormed out of the training room to drag out a certain Paladin who was late for training. As usual. As he neared Lance's room, the door opened before he could come close, and he didn't know why, but he hurriedly hid in a corner.

“Aw, come on, Pidge! That was my favorite song!” Lance's loud voice could be heard throughout the corridor, even though he was in his room. To Keith's surprise, it was Pidge who came out of the door, and to add up to his current surprise, Pidge was actually awake this early. Everyone knew how hard she worked every night, so they don't force her to train in the morning with them.

But here she was, striding out of Lance's room with her headphones on-hand. “Yeah, sure, Lance. Tell that to Shiro or Keith, whoever comes to your room to drag you to the training room first.” She answered with a smug smirk. “Besides, I need my headphones for something today.”

“You just want an excuse to see me this early every morning.” Lance retorted, unknowingly making Pidge's face as red as Keith's jacket. “After all, who could resist my charming bedroom voi—oof!” A jab to his stomach was enough to make him shut up.

“Whatever, Lance.” Pidge rolled her eyes.

Keith tiptoed away from the scene as quietly as he could. At least he now knows why everytime he or Shiro was about to pick Lance up, he was already awake before they could even knock.

[pixel-creates]

About Me: Kingdom Hearts

Behold, my excuse to cry over KH with paragraphs for nearly each answer.

(shamelessly copied from @khfriendlyreminders​)

Favorite Kh Game Overall: … I underestimated how hard this would be. I mean, I can't simply say I love all of them (even though I do), so... I guess it has to be

ALL OF THEM.

Least Favorite Kh Game Overall: Aside from nitpicks in story and gameplay, I don't have much to say against the KH games. ^^'

I understand perfectly well when people analyze the story and explain why certain parts just don't work, but unless it's something that just outright doesn't sit well with me, I find it hard to be critical of the games. Which is weird since I can be very critical of other media, but KH is kind of... hard to see or make criticism of. I'm not entirely sure how to explain it...

Kh Games I Should Replay: … ALL OF TH-

Okay but for real, I do have to repay them all for the sake of my fic since I'm basing the events off of my gameplay. Though, one I'd like to experience once again is 0.2. I only had the chance to play once at my older brother's before I moved and I feel like I need to experience it again to really understand where the story stands currently.

Most Played Kh Game: KH2 definitely.

Least Played Kh Game: Maybe Re:Coded, Days, and Re:COM. Re:Coded, while I do enjoy, is just not that fun to play on my dying 3DS. Also, I can't remember if it's just Re:Coded, but the camera was just really loose?? On my 3DS with broken left and right triggers, there was just no end to the frustration when those babies started going out. Days is a long game to play and my gameplay is either short and brief stints or finishing the entire game in a day. Right now, I'm in the short and brief stint gameplay mode since I need a new 3DS. On that part, Days and Re:Coded aren't at fault. Re:COM just scares me. Eveyone says that it's easy to get a handle on the card system, and it is but I don't do very well under the pressure of getting the cards together. It's gotten to the point where just looking at the menu screen makes me cringe. ^^' KHUX can count, as well. The game has a hella lot of filler quests, which are fine here and there, but wow those mission goals (“Defeat Every Enemy” has been seen in my nightmares). Not only that, but I'm not really that good at keeping up with games that often require constant/daily logging in for advancement.

Kh Games I Need to Play: I've technically played them all in one form or another, but I would very much like to try out the original GBA COM game at least once. GBA used to be my favorite system and finding out a KH game had been made for it is amazing!

Favorite Gameplay: This one is a tie between KH and KH0.2.

KH2 is just... fun. It's fun to play, it's fun to watch, and it just feels satisfactory to attack and explore the worlds. It might seem a little weird, but my favorite part was being able to 'Examine' everything with the triangle button. It was like Sora's (and Roxas' thoughts for a time) were given a place to exist outside cutscenes and gave insight into how Sora/Roxas were viewing the world. I dunno what anyone else thinks about it or if they even care, but I sincerely hope it makes a comeback in KH3.

KH0.2 is like KH2 in which we are given more of an opportunity to explore and interact with the world around us by actually creating change within the world through spells, hitting objects, or finding the lost memories. I absolutely love to freely roam in games, but it doesn't do much to bring me into the world itself if I can't interact with the world. That's why, as much as it creeped the frick out of me, the Dwarf Woodlands in the Dark World was my favorite world to explore even after the main story.

Least Favorite Gameplay: It's not my least favorite by far (in fact, it's really high up there), but I feel I do have to mention that in KH DDD, I felt really bad about using Flowmotion. It was like, I'd find my way up to several treasures, but then, it turns out, that you'd eventually make it up there by unlocking the way so that you could walk to the treasure. I feel like if there was a couple of puzzles that locked some treasures away and couldn't be accessed through mobile means, it'd balance out the gameplay a little more.

I also find the Dream Eater system to be... a little cool and also a little bad. A little cool because while I can adventure to who knows where and not get constantly freaked by Donald and Goofy teleporting right behind me. It felt like I was on a little solo adventure! Not only that, but the feature to import Dream Eaters from a previous save to a new/other save was a great feature. It was especially helpful when I replayed DDD went from Beginner Mode to Critical Mode. Did I mention it was y first time playing any KH game on a mode tougher than Normal?

A little bad because sometimes that solo adventure was just a bit too solo – and when just starting out (especially on Critical Mode), rather than being my allies, my Dream Eaters were more so the colorful Pokemon rejects I babysat so they didn't die after three hits. It became annoying pretty quickly to constantly keep them alive, only for them to wander away from where the enemies are or just simply not attack and once again die.

KH Re:Com as explained above, though I will admit that once I start to get into it, I feel a lot less pressured unless it's a boss fight. Other than that, the game just feels really repetitive and as someone who's gameplay style is 80% grinding until you simply can't die, it just really didn't feel that fun to play after an hour of just grinding for a boss fight that I felt really unsure about fighting because I'm sill having trouble with the card system.

Favorite Story: Yikes, another hard one. It's easy for me to talk about gameplay in the games because they're self-contained to a singular game within the series, but goodness the story.

I suppose out of all of them, I would replay KH2, DDD, Days, and Re:Coded for story reasons only. I find them to have the more interesting stories. Right now, I'm kind of side eying BBS for... reasons, and KH1 is kind of hard for me to say anything about. More on that in the next one.

Least Favorite Story: Out of the games, KH1 is probably the most consistent one... on its own. As the series progressed and the writers tried to fit more lore and story into an idea that... no one really expected would garner so much attention, it becomes more obvious how... out of place the first game seems in comparison. This took me years to realize and I only really understood why people made such a deal about it when Caddicarus talked about it in his review.

I can't bring myself to really blame the writers (or Nomura) too much for the inconsistencies between the first game and the latest one, but I will say there are some things I wish could've been kept consistent throughout the series, or just plain kept.

So, I don't think of it as my least favorite (since there are times I'll play it simply because I love the story a heck of a lot more than the gameplay), but it's question because of how out of place its story is in comparison to its children.

Favorite Character:  Sora. I would fucking die for him – but he probably wouldn't let me. Why is he my favorite character? Probably for a similar reason why Naruto is – I am not a particularly outgoing or outspoken person. My voice is naturally soft and whenever I try to gear myself to ask people the simplest of questions or even to say hi, I chicken out at the last second. And then, we have this character who not only talks to people without an issue but easily has an active participation in not only social situations but in everyday life.

In a way, my younger self strived to be just a little but more like that, if only because I wanted to be surrounded by friends like Sora was. Not only that, but there's just the overall positivity vibe Sora gives off that I feel like I lack; I almost immediately assume the worst of situations, have trust issues, and stress horribly over situations that even I can admit are out of my control. And seeing this character go through what he did and still keep that positive outlook? How could I not want to be like that, if only just a little?

Least Favorite Character: I'll probably get shit on for saying it, but I really can't bring myself to like Kairi in any way shape or form. She's pretty much the only thing about KH that I can be really critical of and I'm not very proud of that. I can't get into her in canon and I can't get into her in fanon. I can detail point by point about why I just can't like her in any capacity and my own disappointment towards how she's written, and I really wish it was the opposite... but that's a whole other post.

For now, I'm more than content to ignore her.

Favorite Character from Main Cast: Aside from Sora? Roxas, Xion, Vanitas, Riku, Namine, and Ventus are in the ring competing for 11th favorite character since Sora has taken up the first ten spots. Aqua, Terra and Goofy are shoe ins for the next spots after them.

Least Favorite Character from Main Cast: Aside from that one chick? It's mostly as a joke, but Donald can rot.

#NeverThankDonaldDuck2018 Also, fuck Yen Sid.

Favorite Drive Form: Final. Fucking fite my vanilla ass.

Favorite Spell: While the Cure line is a staple, I'm going to have to go with the Reflect line. Late game KH2 often ends up with Heartless/Nobody encounters quickly ending as soon as it started with a single Reflectga. I really hope it makes some kind of comeback in KH3.

Favorite Keyblade: Kingdom Key. Call me vanilla, but I love it's simple design and the lore around it.

Favorite Summon: I've honestly only ever really used Tinkerbell and it's always for the Dragon!Maleficent fight in KH1. I always stress about using things with time limits, so I often just don't use them period. :,D

Favorite Limit: Okay, but if I rarely use Summons, then I really don't use Limits like ever. I hardly switch my party members out unless mandatory. Even then, I turn off the Auto Limit shit because I find it more important to make sure Sora has magic for Cure than pulling off an attack that will only hit like 3 times.

Aside from completion purposes (and Riku because how can I deny the beauty that is Sora and Riku's Limit), I don't use them in the main story.

Favorite Dream Eater: It's a toss up between Pega Slick and Me Me Bunny. While offering some pretty good abilities, I really like their aesthetic. Yoggy Ram and Aura Lion are pretty high up there, too.

Favorite World: Oooo~ How about we have fun with this answer?

KH1 – A toss up between Hollow Bastion and End of The World. The aesthetics for both just really agree with me and the map for Hollow Bation especially is really fun to explore. KH Re:COM – 100 Acre Wood for being the only world that isn't completely repetitive. Whenever I play Re:COM I use it as the 12th floor just so I can reward myself for sticking with the game. KH2 – Radiant Garden for being probably the biggest world in KH2, linking to worlds I really like (Space Paranoids/100 Acre Wood), and having an interesting story that was actually intertwined with the main plot. KHBBS – This one is a bit hard since I don't play any other story except Ventus' 90% of the time. It's a toss up between Land of Departure (aesthetic and story reasons), Disney Town (mini games are really great – except I Scream Beat), and Mirage Arena (Rumble Racing and Mono- Command Board ftw!!).

KH Re:Coded – Pretty much all of Hollow Bastion. While a re-hash of KH1, it still felt like its own thing, especially with the battle system since Data!Sora's Keyblade was destroyed. I also really liked Olympus Coliseum. It was my favorite place to grind. In fact... Re:Coded took a lot of risks in changing up how you could fight and/or navigate the world and, to me, they were all interesting takes and fun experiences. Except Agrabah. Fuck Agrabah.

KHDDD – I like La Cité des Cloches because of what it could have been... Actual worlds I like are The Country of Musketeers, The World That Never Was (Sora's story), and Symphony of Sorcery. KH0.2 – Dwarf Woodlands as explained above. KHUX – I honestly really like Daybreak Town. I wish we could freely explore it.

Least Favorite World: F U C K M O N S T R O

I have some bad memories with Monstro from KH1.

First off, there's a chance you will just plain miss the cutscene needed to get access to him. I once had to drive between Halloween Town and Atlantica six times to get him, and often require 2 or more trips around to get him to appear in general.

Second, in KH1, a game that actually would've benefited from the nowadays useless as shit map system, has a world where everything looks the damn same and has rooms literally titled 'Monstro: Chamber 1' and 'Monstro: Chamber 2'. Just watching Raisoren, someone who has played KH1 at least twice, try to find his way around Monstro was a headache in itself back when I first found out about KH. Actually playing it was a migraine.

Third, the aesthetic... just the aesthetic. I am very squicky about the 'insides' of things. I understand that the team went through lengths to make it not look realistic, but that ultimately failed since the main different between most of the rooms are ledges and the amount of barrels in a room.

With all that said, I bet many of you can guess my reaction to Monstro in KH:DDD... it honestly wasn't too bad. Unless I was grinding, I didn't have to spend as much time in Monstro as I did in KH1 and the layout was a lot more varied and easily distinguishable from each other.

And then I played it in Critical Mode. :)

Am I ready for Kingdom Hearts III: Very much so! I've been steadily getting more and more excited with each piece of news we get. I don't know what to expect, but as long as it feels like a KH game, I don't think there's a way to disappoint me.

[kuriquinn]

Scion [2/3]

Blanket Fic Disclaimer: (And link to Samsara)

First Chapter

Title: Scion

Rating: T

Pairing: None (hints IndraChi)

Summary:   Uchiwa divides his time between studying amongst Father’s other disciples, and following his siblings around to learn from them. He is talented, and word of this spreads among the amazed acolytes. Most of them are impressed and a little fearful of this child, and even Nirami and the other children can’t help their own wariness. It’s a little unsettling sometimes how quickly Uchiwa learns; in a matter of months he is able to best them all in taijutsu.

Beta Reader: Not beta-read; check back at a later date for edits

Warning(s): A largely OC cast, namely Indra’s children. Sort of an aftermath kind of short. I know you guys are eager for Indrachi stuff, but I really want to keep my ideas for that to my novel. So, in the meantime, have adorable Indrachi kiddies.

インドラの子供たち

The baby is weak.

For the first few months, it is a struggle to keep him alive, but everyone rallies around him. The tiny stranger is all they have left of Mother, and everyone is conscious of what it would mean to lose him.

Seasons drift by, merging from spring into summer, and eventually Uchiwa begins to look healthier. He eats and sleeps like normal—probably more than he should, in the latter case, because of how much growing he must do—but eventually the day comes when they know he will survive.

He cries.

A lot, Nirami muses, wondering if it’s possible to go deaf from a screaming baby.

“He’s so noisy,” Rishaba complains, handing him off to her with the irritated look of an eight-year-old who would rather be throwing shuriken than changing nappies. “I don’t know what he has to complain about. He’s fed and dry and everyone’s always fussing over him…”

It’s true; he doesn’t lack for company. Uchiwa has been passed around and held by his father and older siblings since his arrival. He doesn’t even sleep in a basket the way they all did as infants, but usually in someone’s arms.

And yet he cries with the same mournful wail of someone locked in a dark room, all alone.

“I think he misses Mama,” little Ributi says softly, and that makes everyone go quiet. No one can think of a reason why that wouldn’t be true.

Nirami thinks it makes sense. Somehow, Uchiwa is aware that there is someone important missing from their family, even as young as he is.

She tries to soothe him, telling him stories of their mother, but only when Father is out of earshot. Hearing about her upsets him still, and they have once more returned to the unspoken rule of not mentioning her name. Sometimes, it’s Father who will tell stories as the children gather around them. He speaks of their great grandmother, Kaguya, the Rabbit Goddess who was sealed away in the moon by her wicked sons.

“Why’d they do that?” Jayanta asks, worried; his twin, Jayanti, clutches the stuffed rabbit doll that Mother made for her years ago.

“Because she was powerful,” Father says. “She wanted a world that existed in total harmony, but it required sacrifice. Sacrifice her sons were not strong enough to make.”

This confuses Nirami, but they all know better than to question Father, especially considering how rare it is for him to tell them stories to begin with.

“To obtain a better world, sometimes it is necessary to give up that which you care for the most,” Father continues, and his eyes go distant the way they sometimes do. “It is painful, but it is for the greater good.”

インドラの子供たち

When Uchiwa is weaned and able to walk and talk unaided, Father chooses to leave their island. He says they may one day return, but for now it is time to go back among the people of the world and spread his teachings of ninjutsu.

Nirami and Rishaba, being the oldest and more naturally inclined to the art than any of Father’s students, are expected to teach alongside him. Rishaba lacks the patience, preferring to show off his skills to the others and receive praises, but Nirami is more patient. When she isn’t showing Father’s acolytes how to improve their techniques, she teaches Uchiwa how to make hand signs and focus his chakra.

Life soon falls into a pattern of travelling and teaching, and once again, as the years pass, Father amasses followers. He is so strong and with such a commanding presence that people naturally fall in line behind him. Nirami knows they sense that he is dangerous and don’t want to be obstacles in his path.

Sometimes teaching his ways happens peacefully—people are eager to learn—and other times they are met with fear and anger. Sometimes there are those who insist ninjutsu is a perversion of the “true path”. When this happens, Father will get a certain look on his face, and the Sharingan will manifest, and Nirami will know that there will be no mercy for them.

These are followers of the ways of Asura, and of Grandfather Hagoromo.

Though the older children are expected to fight alongside their father and his followers whenever there is such an encounter, especially once they enter their teens, the younger ones are left in a safe location with a good vantage point. Father wants them to observe and learn, so that when the time comes for them to join his crusade, they will not falter.

There is no question of leaving any of them behind when he goes on a campaign.

Father says it’s because he intends to teach them better, but Nirami suspects an ulterior motive. She thinks he is afraid that if he leaves them alone, something like what happened to Mother will happen to them.

インドラの子供たち

One day it nearly happens anyhow.

In the midst of a skirmish with a mountain community, everyone is so occupied that they don’t notice an enemy has slipped away and found his way to the little children. Not until it’s too late. Even with his ability to use Shushin, Father only arrives on the scene to witness the aftermath.

Later that night, the twins relay with excitement and amazement how one of the soldiers suddenly appeared, killing their nurse and then turned to where they were huddling with Midumi. And how, while they froze in terror, four-year-old Uchiwa darted forward and shoved a discarded kunai into the man’s throat.

“He was so brave,” Jayanti says proudly.

“Yes, but he got so sick right afterward,” Jayanta sniggers. “He threw up everywhere!”

But his chuckles subside when Father fixes him with a quelling look, and then he considers his youngest son.

“You protected your family,” he tells him. “You did well, my son.”

Uchiwa turns red and looks away shyly, hiding his face in Nirami’s skirts, but she gently coaxes him to face their father.

“You have an inherent talent…much like your mother,” Father goes on. “Tomorrow you will begin training with your brothers and sisters.”

“But he’s so young!” Nirami protests. “None of us started until we were six, at least.”

But Father shakes his head. “He has demonstrated his capabilities. It is best to take advantage of this.”

As usual, there is no point to arguing.

Still, Nirami’s reservations aren’t quelled; in fact, later that night, they only grow when Uchiwa tearfully asks, “Why did that man try to hurt us, Big Sister? We didn’t do anything to him.”

“Because he was an enemy of Father,” she tells him, rubbing comfortable circles along his back, the way Mother always used to do for her. “He knew if he hurt you all, it would hurt Father.”

“Why does he want to hurt Father? And why must we always fight?”

“You know why. We’re trying to bring Father’s ninjutsu to the world. And sometimes people don’t want to accept different ways of thinking, even if it’s good for them.”

“It doesn’t feel very good,” he sighs as he drifts off to sleep, and Nirami’s heart breaks for her little brother who is still so young and soft. There’s an innocence to him that neither she nor their other siblings ever had, the same kindness that Mother had which she desperately wants to keep from being tarnished.

Even though she knows that is impossible.

インドラの子供たち

Uchiwa divides his time between studying among Father’s other disciples, and following his siblings around to learn from them. He is talented, and word of this spreads among the amazed acolytes. Most of them are impressed and a little fearful of this child, and even Nirami and her other siblings can’t help their own wariness. It’s a little unsettling sometimes how quickly Uchiwa learns; in a matter of months he is able to best them all in taijutsu.

Rishaba is consistently irritated by this, and it’s even worse when Father praises him for it.

“He doesn’t value you any less,” Nirami points out to her younger brother, who glares as Father leads Uchiwa down to the seashore. It’s the same outing he made with all of them when they began their training, teaching them to breathe flame like Mother could.

It took Nirami over a year to learn how to do it properly, even though she had Mother by her side helping her. Even now, she can only use it in close-combat situations as a means of distraction. Rishaba is better—he can sometimes make shapes from the flame, like Mother.

None of them have the same power or control as she had.

Until Uchiwa.

He masters the technique on his first try, darkening the rocks of the shore with a giant, roaring flame while his siblings watch in awe.

The girls and Jayanta cheer and hurry down to congratulate him, while Father lays his hand on Uchiwa’s head in a rare show of affection. She can’t see from this distance, but Nirami suspects he might be smiling at him.

Rishaba grumbles and stalks away, kicking up clouds of earth as he goes.

インドラの子供たち

Rishaba’s resentment only grows over time.

Father’s pride in Uchiwa is a personal affront to him, and takes pleasure in besting his youngest brother in ninjutsu and genjutsu whenever possible, in increasingly more humiliating ways. Uchiwa takes it without complaint, eager to learn from his older brother, but Nirami recognises it as the abuse that it is.

“You shame yourself,” she tells Rishaba one day as their youngest brother limps off, covered in mud and bruises.

“Don’t speak of things you don’t understand,” he retorts, shouldering her aside.

“There’s no reason for this resentment. He’s your brother and he looks up to you. And you ought to be proud of him for doing so well.”

“There’s no reason for you to act like you’re our mother, and yet you do it,” he sneers in reply. “At least he’ll learn something from me. All your coddling will do is make him more spoiled.”

“Don’t try to put this on me,” she retorts. “It’s jealousy, plain and simple. You never had to worry about competition with Jayanta because he isn’t very talented. But Uchiwa is, and it worries you. It shouldn’t. You’re the eldest son, Father will keep that in mind.”

“Haven’t you realised yet, Nira?” her brother replies coldly. “Father’s plans will never involve us. We’re nothing but pawns to him. Except Uchiwa. Perhaps he’s a lance.”

He stalks away, leaving Nirami concerned.

“It’s because I don’t look like the rest of you,” Uchiwa murmurs one evening several days later, as Nirami digs splinters of rock out of his skin; Rishaba used a rather nasty Doton technique with projectiles that day. “That’s why he hates me so much.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Nirami insists, though she isn’t quite sure. “It’s just a difficult thing to accept, when a younger sibling learns things faster. Even I sometimes feel a little intimidated by you, Little Brother.” His eyes widen in surprise and potential hurt. “But you know what the difference is?”

“What?”

“I am not a silly young boy,” she teases, reaching over to tickle him in the sides.

He makes a face and twists out of her way, an unusual reaction in him. Usually he collapses into giggles.

“But I still look different,” Uchiwa insists, clearly not willing to let go of that particular sticking point.

Nirami sighs.

He has always been very aware of his dissimilarity to his brothers and sisters.

They all resemble their mother, with her inky black hair and tanned skin, her grey eyes and strong nose. He is very much the reverse, with his father’s lighter features and pale skin. Where his siblings inherited their father’s angular face shape, he has Mother’s delicate bone structure.

“That’s just that the gods decreed you would look like,” Nirami tells him. “You’re no different from us. I bet if Mother and Father had had more children, there would have been more that looked like you.”

But this doesn’t make him feel better.

“I wish Mother hadn’t died,” Uchiwa sighs. “Then I could have a little brother or sister. I hate being the youngest.”

“Mm. But one day, all of us will be married and we’ll have children and you can care for them,” she suggests. “And of course, you’ll have your own one day.”

“It’s not the same,” he sighs gloomily, and he won’t be cheered even when she offers to draw pictures with him. It’s a pastime they have always shared. Eventually she brings out her secret supply of honey drops. Father says they shouldn’t have candies, but Uchiwa inherited Mother’s sweet tooth, and so Nirami always tries to have some on her for emergencies.

He frowns at her for a moment, cheeks puffed out in indignation at the idea of being pacified with candy, but he eventually gives in.

Sweets are too rare a commodity for him to refuse them.  

“Ah-ah-ah,” she wags her finger before relinquishing the candy. “This is only if you cheer up. Smile, please.”

“Big Sister…” he groans.

“Candy is only for boys who aren’t gloomy and brooding,” she reminds him. “There’s nothing for free.”

He sighs, and offers her a smile. It’s feeble and false.

“Now you just look like you sat on a pinecone, or the way Master Ebi looks when Father told him he needed to work on his Henge technique.”

Uchiwa chuckles a little at this, and Nirami feels a small sense of victory.

“There we are,” she says and gives him the candy. “Don’t be so serious. Rishaba will wisen up. In the meantime, you know Father is proud of you. As are the rest of us.”

“You too?”

“Especially me.”

つづく

As always, reviews and constructive criticism are much appreciated! Also, if you are in a supportive mood, you can find my tip jar here.

クリ

Next Chapter

[higuchimon]

[fanfic] Rebirth of Kaiser:  Chapter 22

Phantom Magician welcomed their partner into the building. Heavy warrior’s boots echoed faintly on the carpeted floor, grinding mud with every step. He cast his eyes everywhere as he marched through the silent corridors, disapproval in the tilt of his head and the intermittent low growls hidden behind his helmet.

“Where are they all?” With every movement he made, he exuded the fact that this place was his now. Phantom Magician thought that Queen Ruin might even be pleased enough to grant him ownership of the fortress, even. Presuming that she didn’t want it rendered down to dust. She’d been known to do such things.

“I put the rank and file down in the dungeons. They’ll be useful with the right spellcasting and retraining.” Phantom Magician saw no reason to get rid of perfectly useful people who just needed their morality rearranged and obedience diverted. “Tesni and their ‘Cyber Hell Paladin’, on the other hand...”

That got a slight tilt of the head towards them. If Phantom Magician hadn’t known that one couldn’t see his eyebrows behind his helmet, they would have presumed that said eyebrows tilted towards them.

“This way.” They guided their partner to the throne room. At least it would be a throne room now. Tesni hadn’t ever had much of a view towards the proper trappings of power. This was more of an audience chamber, a place everyone could gather to learn their battle plans.

Of course that hadn’t done them any good in the long run. Phantom Magician remained deeply thrilled about that. All of this was their idea; Queen Ruin knew only that they’d intended to spy on the enemy for a time. To be able to hand the entire army over in one fell swoop would be such a wonderful victory, certain to garner them a promotion and a vast reward. It wasn’t easy coming across such in the Knights when one wasn’t a warrior.

“What else can you tell me?” Ghost Knight asked, focus far more on the trip than on them. Phantom Magician laughed ever so softly.

“There’s little enough. Tesni believed every word I told her about just wanting to help. She was so desperate to end this war she didn’t even notice it already had.” Phantom Magician shrugged. “We may have to keep an eye out for a time, though. Tesni send Cyber Harpie back to Dervan to pick up the Paladin’s travel companion.”

Another inquisitive tilt of the head. Phantom Magician might not have understood the gesture if they hadn’t spent so very long with Ghost Knight.

“A shadow mage. Apparently Tesni thought he would be quite useful against the Knights.” Phantom Magician leaned their head back. “She’s not wrong. If he’s as good as she seemed to think, then he could be very useful to us as well. Did you want to wait until he’s here before we go back.”

Ghost Knight considered the question as they entered the new throne room. “Perhaps. I can think of uses that the Queen might have for a shadow mage.” A smile touched his voice. “Or that I might.”

Phantom Magician chuckled a bit. They hadn’t worked with Ghost Knight all this long to miss that. Ghost Knight always looked out for himself, first and foremost.

The throne room needed a proper throne and quite probably a few guards to set it off. Right now all it had was a battered table, once split down the middle and now held together with hammered nails and wire. Three chairs settled around it, a fourth tossed on one side, each of them as rickety as the table itself. Ghost Knight would have ignored the chairs, if they didn’t contain his focus of the moment.

Two people slumped in one each of the chairs, both of them bound by thick chains that not even the most powerful of spirits could have broken. Phantom Magician thought even the Herald of the Gentle Darkness himself couldn’t have broken them: Holy Chains.

I’d rather not attempt to find out. Phantom Magician would do almost anything to advance themselves, but the idea of facing the one who’d so nearly brought the entire world underneath his boot in the space of three months wasn’t one of them.

Ghost Knight gave little more than a passing glance to the young paladin, instead taking a stand in front of Hail Cyber Tesni. He slipped a long bladed knife from one of his sheaths and tilted her head up with the flat. Without his helmet, Phantom Magician suspected that a smile would have been visible. It wouldn’t have at all been a pretty smile, but a smile all the same.

“I know that you’re awake. Both of you.” Ghost Knight spoke, digging the point of the dagger into Tesni’s flesh. Her eyes opened, full of a rage so great it should have set fire to the shoddy tapestries on the wall.

“What do you want?” Tesni spat the words out. She gave no look at all to Phantom Magician or to Cyber Hell Paladin. All of her attention remained on Ghost Knight.

“I think that you know. This war ends today.” Ghost Knight traced the edge of the blade alongside of her chin. “Your Hail Cybers will once again fight beside our Queen’s Knights. Whether you will or not remains undetermined.”

Phantom Magician let out a brief laugh. “And that determination isn’t yours. Queen Ruin will decide for you.”

“Who is this Ruin?” That question came from Cyber Hell Paladin. Ghost Knight and Phantom Magician both turned towards him, neither entirely certain how to react to him. Phantom Magician long ago divined he would be important to the settlement of the war, but as matters stood now, they couldn’t quite figure out how.

He’s a captive now, nothing more. Yet my divinations are so seldom wrong. It happened on occasion, but so rarely that Phantom Magician did not consider it now. Perhaps now would be one of those times.

“Ruin, Queen of Oblivion.” Ghost Knight spoke at last, giving the paladin a very curious look before shifting his attention back to Tesni. “You’ve told him nothing, I see.”

“I told him what was important.” Tesni held her head up, nothing but prid and anger reflecting in her eyes. “Why should I speak of a jumped up fool who only seeks selfish revenge?”

Again Phantom Magician could feel the smile in the knight’s words. “Tell him now, then. Let him know who will order his death – or worse. There are those who know what’s worse than death and how to inflict it on others.”

“Yes, there are. But there are problems with fates worse than death, you see.” The voice came from behind and Phantom Magician and Ghost Knight both turned. Long shadows reached there, cast by the glimmering sphere of light hanging from the ceiling. Then from out of the shadows stepped two figures.

One was a trifle taller than the other, with seaweed green hair and eyes that seemed to want to be sleepy but right now glowed sharp with anger. Phantom Magician didn’t recognize the kind of clothes that he wore, but didn’t need to. This was the shadow mage. Even with the fury he evinced, they had no fear of him.

Fear unfolded at the sight of his companion. Then the thought reversed itself: the shadow mage was this man’s companion, not the other way around. He looked quite ordinary; perhaps a little over average height, with ordinary brown hair and very ordinary brown eyes.

They were very, very ordinary. Until one looked into their depths and saw the sparks of gold hidden, sparks that weren’t there for decoration. Roiling even deeper under them were flashes of green and orange. Only Phantom Magician’s mage sight could show those colors when this man didn’t want them seen.

Phantom Magician saw them now and at once began to reconsider every life choice that they’d ever made that led them to this place.

“Problems?” Ghost Knight asked, still holding his knife. There wasn’t even a hint of shaking in his grip. Phantom Magician wasn’t certain if he knew who this was, or if he would care if he did know. Ghost Knight wasn’t always the brightest. Courage beyond words, of course, but never the brightest.

The Herald smiled. It was a smile that very few ever saw and fewer still were those who’d ever lived to talk about it, especially those who stood against him. Green and orange flickered stronger in his eyes.

“Me. I will absolutely have a problem with you unless you back off from my friend. If you want to finish this war, you’ll finish it fairly.” The Herald moved closer, every step measured and dangerous. “Go back to your Knights.” He made a shooing motion with one hand. “And don’t try this kind of thing again. Either of you. Settle things with a duel or fighting or whatever you do. But don’t bring people into it without asking first and definitely don’t drug them.” His attention flickered to Tesni. “Or enspell them.”

Phantom Magician could not hold back the snort that came from that. She’d warned Tesni that sending Cyber Harpie wasn’t the best idea. Where was she, anyway? If the shadow mage was there, shouldn’t she be there?

Tesni’s cheeks tinged faintly. Chains rattled and Phantom Magician glanced in time to see a third figure behind Cyber Hell Paladin, who now stood up, freed of his bonds. This new figure had somewhat vaguely the same coloring, but in brighter shades of teal. He wasn’t someone that Phantom Magician had ever seen before and when they attempted to look at him with their magical sight, they winced away, covering their eyes with one hand.

It’s like looking into the sun! What is he!? Gazing at the Herald was far more comfortable, even with those terrifying eyes of his.

The shadow mage moved closer to Cyber Hell Paladin. “Are you all right?” Worry seethed between the two that didn’t ease off no matter how they stared at one another.

“I’m fine. Better than I would have expected.” Cyber Hell Paladin bared his teeth and Phantom Magician thought that was meant as a smile. They decided that they could have their reunion perfectly well without anyone else’s presence and would probably prefer it that way.

They were quite close to Ghost Knight, who’d barely moved since the Herald’s appearance, and rested a hand on his arm. This wasn’t at all how they’d planned for this to end up and it would make far more sense to get out of here and rendezvous with everyone else at the Knights’ stronghold.

A heartbeat later, they froze when the Herald’s gaze turned towards them. “Behave.” One single word and then darkness rolled itself over Phantom Magician. When the world cleared, they were somewhere else entirely: somewhere Phantom Magician didn’t recognize. Tall trees rose in every direction, shadows cast thick in every direction around them, and moss underneath their feet so thick and soft that it could be slept on.

Glancing to one side showed Ghost Knight, every bit as confused as Phantom Magician found themselves, if not even more so. Instead of the early winter nip to the air, this place held the warmth of summer. Phantom Magician pulled in a very unsteady breath.

“Where are we?” Ghost Knight demanded, fists clenching and unclenching. “Who was that? How did we get here?”

“My friend, we’ve just been in the presence of the Herald of the Gentle Darkness.” They looked around in search of a way to get to clearer ground. “And I think we are very lucky that he spared us.” They drew in yet another breath. “I think I’m retiring from the Knights.”

“Where did you send them?” Johan asked, leaving Ryou and Yuusuke to their reunion as he stepped over to Juudai. He’d also freed Tesni and she hurried out of the room to deal with her people. “I thought you were going to let them leave on their own.”

Juudai shrugged, a hint of anger still glittering. “I wanted to be sure they didn’t try anything else. And I’m pretty sure I sent them back to where those Knights of theirs are.”

“Are you sure?” Johan cocked an eyebrow in his general direction. He knew Juudai usually meant well but mistakes happened to everyone. Especially Juudai. “Because that didn’t feel like where they were.”

“He’s right.” Yubel agreed, appearing in between one breath and the next. They and Johan exchanged a quick, very amused look. No one understood Juudai better than the two of them. “You sent them south, Juudai. Very far south. The Knights’ stronghold is to the northwest.”

Juudai blinked a few times, a deep flush rolling up over his cheeks. “Oh. Oops?”

To Be Continued

Notes: I am very late with this and I am very sorry. In my defense, I got Kingdom Hearts 3 a few days ago. But here it is. Eight chapters to go! Are you looking forward to the resolution as much as I am?

Next chapter will explain a bit more about how Johan got there, though it shouldn’t be that difficult to guess. I haven’t forgotten that Chaos Hunter is with the Knights. This is just the start of a series and I’m planting seeds for the future.