#Why yes they can all fit in his cape even when they become older and no one knows how or why

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt in Memes 4

Another prompt, but in memes because trying to gather my thoughts is hard sometimes lol.

[jjkamochoso]

The Perfect Fit

Story Overview: Levi Ackerman begrudgingly finds himself falling in love with the Survey Corps’ seamstress. Will they be able to own up to their feelings for each other? Or is their love doomed to fail before they discover the truths of each other’s hearts? This slow burn reader insert story will be filled with angst, yearning, and a bit of mystery as we slowly unravel the truths behind Y/N’s past… and explore her and Levi’s future!

Chapter 3

Chapter 2 linked here

Chapter 4 linked here

Levi Ackerman x female reader

Warnings: cussing, minor character death (not graphic)

As the hours rolled by with nobody from the surrounding villages showing up to their appointments with you, you started to get stressed out. Were they all a bunch of no shows on purpose? Your prices weren’t extravagant but you knew times were tough on everyone, especially after the breach of Wall Maria. Citizens of Wall Rose were fighting for their fair share of resources and jobs while refugees tried their best to not starve on the streets. It was a constant battle for food and wages for anyone outside Wall Sina and you hated to see people fighting amongst themselves when a much larger threat loomed right outside the failing walls. With nothing else to do, you took the time to look over Captain Levi’s torn cape and decide how you were going to mend it. Why did he do that in the first place? Was he taking pity on you? You didn’t mean to tell him all your financial woes, they just slipped out in the heat of the moment. Maybe he just wanted to test your skills with the sewing machine he got you? Yes, that had to be it. You had given the machine a trial run earlier and now you felt confident enough to use it on commissioned pieces. Taking in a deep breath to steady yourself in the midst of the most important project of your life, you got to work.

You sewed tirelessly throughout the afternoon and evening, barely stopping for breaks. You needed to be sure this cape was done before you took your horse into the village tomorrow to see a veterinarian. Speaking of your horse, you heard her let out a long, high pitched whinny. You quickly pushed your chair away from the table and hurried outside. She looked even sicker than she did this morning—an extremely bad sign. She could barely stand, wobbling in her pasture. There was no way she could make the journey into the village, you’d have to run there and ask for an emergency veterinarian house call. You began to cuddle up to her, whispering sweet nothings to her to calm her down, and you could tell she was becoming more and more content. Placing a long, sweet kiss to her snout, you reluctantly pulled away.

“Hold on for me, sweetheart. I’m going to get you some help. Just hang in there. Please.”

Your horse just looked at you and you prayed to whatever higher being might hear you that she understood your intentions. You ran back inside to grab a lantern and jacket for the run through the chilly night air. Taking one last look at your horse, you ran as fast as your legs could take you to the village with the vet.

You were sure that when you came running into the village you looked like a complete madwoman, but you didn’t care. All you knew was that you needed to get to the vet’s house as fast as humanly possible. When you saw his house, the front lantern thankfully still lit, you ran up to the door and pounded on it.

“Dr. Becker! Dr. Becker! Please, it’s an emergency! My horse is sick. I need your help, please!”

There was no answer. Your fists collided with the door mercilessly until finally there was movement behind the creaking wood.

“Don’t you realize how late it is, girl?” the older doctor asked, opening the door. He had a disgruntled look on his face that only slightly softened when he noticed how desperate and close to tears you were.

“Please, Dr. Becker, my horse is sick. She can barely stand, won’t eat, and she’s been coughing. I’m begging you, please do an emergency house call right now for her. I don’t know where else to go.”

He sighed, rubbing his hand on his face. “I’m off duty right now, you know.”

“I know. I have money,” you said, pulling out a pouch of coins and letting him inspect them to prove their authenticity. He let out a “hmmph!” and collected his medical bag.

“Come, child. Show me the way.”

When your house came into view, it took all you had to not climb out of the cart you were riding in to run and greet your beloved companion. As Dr. Becker parked his horses, you ran over to your own. She was lying down, completely still.

“No, no, no!” you exclaimed tearfully, your hand in front of her snout to check for breathing. There was none. Dr. Becker made his way over to you, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“I’ll check to make sure she’s truly gone before I leave.”

As he got on the ground to check her pulse, your mind was reeling. What were you going to do? You barely had enough money to cover the vet visit, there was no way you could afford a whole new horse! And what about your own house calls? You used to ride your horse into the village once a month to help out your elderly customers who couldn’t make the journey to your workshop. The kind veterinarian caught your eye and shook his head.

“I’m sorry. She’s dead.”

You were too numb to cry. In a daze, you handed the doctor your pouch of coins to cover the inconvenience of coming all this way, but he would only accept a third of the full payment.

“You need the money more than I do,” he explained, eyeing your deceased horse and ramshackle house. When he said goodbye and left, you realized you truly were alone. You didn’t know what to do with your horse’s body. It was going to be another hot day tomorrow and you didn’t want her to rot in the sun. It was too late at night to do anything about it, though, so you covered her with a sheet and went to bed.

The next morning was extremely difficult for you. You had to drag your body out of bed, the stresses of last night weighing you down. After you nibbled on a small breakfast, you heard a cart coming down your dirt path.

“Dr. Becker said there was a deceased animal here to dispose of?” one of the men had asked you when you walked outside. You confirmed, pointing the team to white sheet in the pasture. They loaded her onto the cart and you whispered a final farewell to your best friend and most faithful companion. Going back inside, you looked around you, gauging what work still needed to be done. You spied Levi’s cape in the same spot you discarded it hours prior. You knew that had to be finished first since he was coming to pick it up later today. You tried to drown yourself in the work but it didn’t distract you enough. When your tears landed on his cape, it took everything inside you not to scream out in frustration. You went to the bathroom to splash water on your face, hoping it would ground you. Instead, you just took notice of your unkempt appearance. Your life had gone from normal to shambles in a matter of hours and you were at a loss of what to do. It was difficult times like these that made you wonder if you made a mistake leaving Wall Sina…

No.

You couldn’t afford to dwell on things you can’t change. You could only look forward and that’s exactly what you were going to do. Getting ahold of yourself, you reminded yourself that Captain Levi entrusted you with his cape, meaning your career, at least, wasn’t in shambles. You had a great skill set that was near impossible to replicate so at least you had that going for you. You got back to work, still worried about your future but less distraught.

Another work day over, you awaited Levi’s arrival at your door for the pick up of his belonging. When the clock struck 5pm, you expected to hear him knocking at your door, but there was nothing. You didn’t know much about the man, but you knew he was always on time. You furrowed your brows when it turned to 5:10 and there was no sign of him. Was he going to stand you up like everyone else today?

BAM BAM BAM

Whoever was at your door, it certainly wasn’t the captain. You heard bickering on the other side of the door.

“Eren! You can’t pound on a door like that, especially if it’s a lady’s house!”

“Shut up, Armin. We’re in a hurry. I don’t need Captain Levi being any madder at us for being late than he already is.”

You opened the door to reveal a trio of teens.

“Ms. L/n! We’re here to pick up Captain Levi’s cape,” Armin said, a sweet smile on his face. You were well acquainted with these kids, mostly because they were always running into battle and ending up with torn uniforms (especially Eren—what on earth could he be doing to always end up with shredded shirts?).

“I’ll get that for you right away. Please, come in.”

The kids walked into your place, seemingly scrutinizing it.

“Yes, I know it’s dirty and falling apart. Your captain already lectured me on it.”

“That’s no surprise. He’s always in a bad mood,” Eren grumbled. You gave Armin the cape and Mikasa handed you the money. It was a large sum but you couldn’t even find it within your heart to be excited.

“Thanks you guys. Want any treats while you’re here?”

Their eyes lit up. Even Mikasa seemed to have a happier expression on her face as you handed them each a small piece of pastry you had made a few days prior. As they snacked, you noticed Mikasa eyeing your embroidery hoop.

“I do embroidery too. Anything you want, I’ll do it. Personal clothes or inside of uniforms. Names, symbols, whatever. Since you kids are almost single-handedly keeping me in business with all the clothes of yours I fix, the first few personalizations are on the house.”

Mikasa looked lost in thought, like she was remembering a long lost memory or something. All of a sudden, her face turned back to her near emotionless state. The three of them gave you their thanks and were ready to leave when Armin spoke up once more.

“Ms. L/n? Where’s your horse, I brought her a small apple slice. I know how much she loves them.”

You really didn’t want to cry in front of the kids over something so silly but you were close to breaking down.

“She died last night,” you explained, letting out a shaky breath. “She was sick for a short period and died in the 20 minutes I left to get the veterinarian.”

The blonde, upon hearing the news, gave you a big hug. “I’m so sorry, I knew how much you loved her. We all did.”

“What are you going to do now? Get a new one?” questioned Eren.

“I’m not sure yet, but that’s not for you kids to worry about. Now head back before Captain Grumpy finds out you’ve been messing around here too long.” When the kids and their horses were out of view, you let out another long sigh. What were you going to do?

Levi had been swarmed with meetings, swarmed with paperwork, swarmed with people bothering the shit out of him. He was in a worse mood than usual and anybody who got in his way felt his wrath. He felt bad for snapping at people, but his head just hadn’t been in the right place the past few days. Ever since his run ins with the seamstress, she hadn’t left his mind. She was strange to him, too happy go lucky for her own good. She was careless; who walks through forests without a horse these days? She was too kind for her own good. He was also jealous of the way y/n’s job was ridiculously ordinary. Being a seamstress in these times sounded woefully mediocre compared to fighting titans. It was, admittedly, still an important job. He gave her shit for showing preference to Hange’s uniforms, but if he was telling the truth, he would’ve never noticed that she wasn’t using a sewing machine. Her work was neat, precise—traits Levi could appreciate. The thing about y/n that bothered Levi the most was how damn pretty she was. Sure, he’d been attracted to a few women here and there, but they all paled in comparison. There was something about her that was magnetic, pulling Levi in, causing him to want to know more about her. This thought made him want to puke. He couldn’t get attached to any more people, he couldn’t afford to. Levi’s heart had been smashed into too many pieces by now, too many deaths he’d had to face of people he loved. His head was in the right place, trying to convince him to ignore her and focus on his duty as a soldier, but he found himself listening to his heart more and more. Finding that sewing machine for you was a pain in the ass since they were extremely hard to find, especially in working order. He had pulled some strings to get information, eventually buying one off a villager who’d “acquired” it in the interior. Then, him taking you home was something he’d never thought he would do for some stranger, especially letting you hold him in such a way that made his breath catch in his throat and his hands go clammy. The final nail in the coffin was when his fingers disobeyed any notion of common sense, ripping the biggest hole he could manage in his cape for you to fix so you could make some more money. It was no secret he had a soft spot for animals, but there was no reason he should’ve felt as bad for you and your horse as he did. Also, your house was a total wreck and he wanted to scream at Erwin for allowing you to reside there. When he thought back about his actions, he grimaced. You were just some girl he met a few days ago. How were you making such an impact in his life already? That’s why he made Eren and his friends pick up his cape. He needed to avoid you for as long as possible, needing a clear head and heart to save humanity, not pine over a random woman. He looked over the freshly fixed cape, admiring your handiwork. He could barely make out where you had sewed it back together. Your talent was a sight to behold and he was glad his intuition was right to put his trust in you. He placed the soft cloth into a drawer to wear another time and decided he needed some tea to clear his head. When he reached the cafeteria, he overheard the trio talking about you.

“That’s so sad about Ms. L/n’s horse. I wonder how she’s going to keep working without her,” Armin had said. Levi’s eyes widened slightly. Did your horse die that quickly? That would be bad news for you, personally, and him, professionally. He and the Scouts relied on you to come in half the week to do your work in the castle. There was no way you would be walking here and back, Levi would never allow you to put yourself in danger like that. He pretended not to listen, warming water in a kettle.

“I know. I feel bad for her, but there’s no way we can use the resources to keep traveling back and forth every time we need something fixed. It would be easier if she lived here.”

“Maybe if y/n lives here, you won’t have to do uncharacteristically nice things to spend time with her.”

Levi jumped at the sound of Hange’s voice unexpectedly in his ear. “Fuck off, four eyes. You almost made me spill my tea.”

Hange just laughed while Levi rolled his eyes. He hated to admit it, but Eren and Hange both had a point. If you worked for the Survey Corps, why wouldn’t you live with them? There was plenty of room here, it wasn’t like the place was overflowing with soldiers. He took his tea to go, finding solace in the quiet of his room. If Hange and the other soldiers wanted you to live here, fine. He just didn’t want to get involved with anything surrounding you. What did he care what you did, where you lived, what you spent your time doing? And where did Hange get the idea he wanted to spend time with you? Your meetings had been coincidental and ones of convenience. Whether or not you moved in with the Scouts, it would be of no matter to Levi. Like he thought before, he didn’t need another person to care about—you would die prematurely and leave him all alone, just like everyone else did.

Chapter 4

[hyperfixatingonbowuigisohard]

Super Mario Bros Labyrinth AU (Pt1)

(With Bowuigi to come!)

So we're gonna create this AU in the form of bullet-point fanfic, cool? cool.

We start out with the Mario Brothers messing up a plumbing job

Mario forgot an important tool in the truck, and instead of asking Luigi to go get it he tries to use a different tool instead

(Even tho Mario knows its a bad idea)

Big surprise, they fuck up the entire floor's plumbing and have to fix it all for no charge

Luigi tries to cheer up his older brother

"It's-a okay big bro! We all a-mess up! You know how many times I've-a used the wrong tool?"

Mario is just not feeling it today, embarrassed and angry at himself

"Yeah I a-do! Because I have to a-clean up your messes!"

And Mario goes off on Luigi

Yelling and Scolding Luigi for anything he can think of

Desperete to distract himself from his own failures

Luigi doesn't know that tho and is just in tears

What did Luigi do wrong? Was he really this much of a burden?

They finally park the truck and Mario slams the door shut

They start walking upstairs to their apartment

Luigi behind Mario trying to understand what he did wrong

Mario not answering him

They get into their apartment

Mario spins around and screams at Luigi

"Leave me alone!"

"Mario please, just tell me what I did wrong!"

"Why do I always have to have the answer for you?! I wish you would go and be a burden to someone else!"

Out of no where, there's a bright flash of light and thunder lets out a single deafening roar

When Mario opens his eyes, Luigi has vanished

There's not even an indention in the carpet of where his footsteps were

There's no trace

Mario instantly regrets everything

He panics

He calls out for Luigi

But he doesn't get very far before the window behind him shatters

Mario spins around, and sees him

An Anthropomorphic Turtle/Dragon Monster, stands in his window-frame

He's absolutely ginormous, and has broken the window and the wall in the process of entering

He doesn't wear clothes, but he does have a jabot tie around his neck and a vibrant red cape flowing behind him

He looks down at Mario with threatening authority

Mario immedietly puts his fists up, not knowing what who this is

Mario knows it he must have something to do with what happened to Luigi

"What have you done to my brother?! Bring him back!"

"What's said is said, puny plumber!" the monsters says.

"I'm King Boswer, King of the Koupa. I've taken you're brother to my castle, where he will be a--what did you called him? Ah, yes: a burden to myself."

Mario freezes

"I...I didn't mean it!"

"Thats what they all say"

Bowser steps down from the Window and into the house

(well, as well as he can fit)

"Mario. Go back to your truck." he scoffs. "Go live your silly pipe draining-dreams. You can forget about Luigi."

"I won't." Mario clenches his fists. "I can't have my dream without him."

Bowser rolls his eyes

Bowser looks behind Mario and points ahead.

"See that?"

Mario turns around, and suddenly he's no longer in his and Luigi's apartment

He's in a feild of dead flowers, looking out over a massive Labryinth

In the center is a just as massive castle, of lava, spikes, and rock

"Thats my castle, where I'm holding Luigi. In the center of the Koupa Kingdom."

"You mean the Labryinth?"

"Its both, you annoying thing."

Bowser stands in front of Mario, blocking his veiw and glares.

"Turn back Mario, before its too late."

"I can't. I have to get Luigi back."

Bowser rolls his eyes and smirks.

"You have until Sundown Tomorrow to solve the Labryinth Before Luigi becomes my bride"

And with that, Bowser vanishes just like Luigi

I hope you all like this first part of the story! LMK if you liked it and want to see more! I really appreciate comments and reblogs <3

(You are Here)…(2)…

[aqua-loves-writing]

Chapter 4 part 1 is here!

The doors had slowly opened up. Small steps echoed through the room as a small figure, face covered with a hood, entered the room. A knight like no other, because they didn’t look like a knight at all. A black dress followed up with the simplest of ballet shoes. Many were bewildered. 

“Uh,” the knights gossiped with one another, “Who… is that nun?”

“I have no idea. Maybe that’s his maid or something?”

“My child,” Lady Scarletborn stepped in, putting her hand on his shoulder, “Won’t you show everyone your face?”

The knight chuckled, “Of course…”

Strange. A young face, barely older than Alice, alongside dark gray hair more fitting to an elder. A smile on their face, impossible to tell its true nature. As he walked on, he greeted every knight standing by bowing down and lifting his dress. A bounce to their step as he moved from one knight to the other.

That’s the guy everyone’s talking about?

Alice was unable to keep her eyes off him.

H-how?? In what way is that, a knight? No sword, no armor, no anything??? The heck is happening with Unia?! Everything I learn about this country be against my will...ugh. I have had it today. I’ll try to sneak out when no one’s watching during the ceremony or whatever. I need to be quick. Let’s see where I can-

“Good day my sir!”

“Uh!”

She was startled seeing the knight suddenly bow before her. His vibrant widened turquoise eyes were hard to look away from. His giant smile unnerving her.

“Good-good day to you too, oh...one and only imperial vassal! I am grateful that you have...come to greet me! I shall, uh, treasure this forever.”

He chuckled as she was screaming in the inside.

“Oh please, I am nothing that special, but I appreciate it anyway. I too shall treasure our meeting forever too!”

“Um,” a young maid tapped his shoulder, avoiding eye contact, “Young sir, may I take your cape away during the ceremony?”

“Oh,” they turned around, bowing down as they grabbed the maid’s hand to kiss it, “Why, of course! I couldn’t say no to a face like that if I tried!”

"Oh," she was flustered "My knight-I-"

"It's fine my lady," he closed in on her, "You presence alone makes my day! I could treasure nothing more than to know you better!"

Flustered, she walked away, forgetting to take the cape with her.

He chuckled, “Cute, wasn’t she?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“What can I say? I always loved a dash of romance! What about you?”

“M-me? Well, sir," she stepped back a bit, "I never really put much though on that."

“Interesting," he stood on his toes, his face only a few inches away to hers, "Many men only become knights to gain the hands of maids (can't say I judge them) so this is surprising! What's your reason then?

None. I hate it here.

"Go on..."

“Ahem,” the strange knight stepped back when the general came in, still holding onto the leash of the dragon,

“My friend Benedict,” he had grabbed the old guy's hand, shaking it in extreme speeds, “I must say it’s a pleasure to see you!”

“Uh, yes, you too. But-”

“And I can’t believe my eyes,” he crouched down, his eyes staring at the dragon, it walking away from the overwhelming gaze.

“An actual dragon! These haven’t been seen in ages! And back at the castle everyone was saying you were bluffing!"

"Heh, as if," the old man chuckled, “Only a year ago I alone was able to catch it, and have been taming it ever since. I had caught so many vicious criminals thanks to this tool since. I may even be transported back to the castle at this rate…”

As the old man kept boasting about himself, the dragon had looked at the ground, avoiding eye contact with others. His legs were noticeably shaking. Any moment it could fall to the ground, and who knows if it’d be able to get up. Heck, if it wanted to.

A tool? Tch...

The knight didn’t pay much attention to the general, turning his head left and right as he gazed at the dragon. “You seem tired, don’t you? Say what? After all of this is over, I can bring you some food to ear, plus, if you need any help, you know who to call!”

He winked, the dragon not paying much attention to it.

“Ahem,” Lady Scarletborn appeared before them, a vase in her hands, “Sorry to interrupt but we have work to do, don’t we my child?”

“Oh, I apologize teacher,” he quickly got up, “I got excited is all. Bye little dragon! Bye new friend! Don’t forget about me!”

“Oh stop kidding around,” she handed over the vase to them, filled with clean water, “General, we’re ready.”

“And just as I was about to cut through its-oh,” he straightened his back, faking coughs, “Of course! Just walk on ahead, young knight. We’ll watch from here.”

Excuse me?!

As the strange knight left, the lady and the general stood just next to her. They could have stood next to another knight, next to the entrance, next to the knight, next to a traveling merchant scamming his employees with fake potions. However, they chose to stand next to her, to further her suffering accidentally.

Mister Miroslav… I am sorry. I guess I have to wait for this to be over. Can't be too long. I mean, it's just some water, what could he even do with that?

With the vase in their hands, the knight had approached the statues of animals. The first one, a mighty hawk, rising its wings to the sky. He poured water onto the statue, now glowing in a burning red.

The heck?

The light had spread across the entire ballroom, the ceiling now resembling a sunset sky. In it, a form of a hawk flying across at a moment’s notice. ‘Ignia!’ everyone cheered.

What the heck? How is this possible?

Next one, a statue of a butterfly landing on a flower. the touch of water had brought upon a green light. the light had shattered into small flowing spectacles, flowing through the air in the shapes of butterflies

“Woah,” Alice had reached her hand to one, only for it to disperse by her contact

“Heh, I apologize for disappointing you,” Lady Scarletborn chuckled, “I do so much for him and this is all he can give out…”

Huh?

“Oh well, guess we just have to see if the rest pays off well!”

That was… weirdly judgemental. Oh forget about it Alice, while they’re distracted I can get out of this.

She had slowly walked away backwards as he poured water onto the next statue. A horse, an orange light spread throughout. Illusion of trees had appeared covering the walls. The entrance had disappeared within these illusions, just as Alice was about to reach them.

You have got to be kidding me…

“Something wrong?” another knight noticed her. “Were you trying to leave? Did you get sick or something?”

“...Yes."

"Oh, do you need-"

Ignoring him, she got back to her spot, hunching her back forward as hope is slowly shattering in front of her.

“Put your head up darling,” the lady said, “Now comes the last part!”

“Finally…”

The final statue, a dolphin jumping from the sea. a blue light had not spread across the ground, an image of a lake. Fishes were seen swimming through the pure and clean water. A strange feeling seeing this, as everyone stood on it casually.

“Hm, decent enough, wouldn’t you think? 

“Ugh-”

“Well, either way, now comes the important part…”

There’s more. Of course there’s more.

The knight of miracles, sitting down on the ground, closing his eyes as he held in hands in a prayer. The maids, torches in their hands, had risen them high up as they started to chant-

Watcher of fire and wind, we call you!

Watcher of water and earth, we need you!

Oh, may you grace us with your presence!

So we can earn our existence!

A glowing aura had formed around the strange knight.

“Oh protectors of the very earth we were born upon.. Those who brought us life and death. For many years, our voices did not reach you, for we have sinned in ways one can redeem thyself! Trial and tribulations had met these lands that you have given us oh so long ago! And now…”

They stand up, raising their arms “Here we are, pleading our flesh and blood to you! All for the sake of regaining that which was once lost! So please, take this life and everything that we owe you to come back!”

A giant white light had manifested high up, an ever looming star. Just looking at this one would feel like they’re choking as its presence overshadows everything and everyone around it.

“... It can’t be,” the knight said, falling back to the ground, the ground beneath him shattering, the illusion turning into speckles of dust. The giant star vanished, and the room had returned to it's original taste. No words were spoken.

[randomsnakesimp]

Okay. I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna take the leap and say: Phobos is the victim (sorta).

Quick disclaimer: I am going to abuse plot holes and cartoon logic for my cause in a very nitpicky way. If you dislike that, I can completely understand, and I hope this warning will save you a lot of reading.

Also, this won't go into just headcanon territory, I'll put those in a separate post. Everything here I'll try to keep based on actual information from the comics and what I made of them.

That said...

Let's take a look at this scene:

(for a quick translation of the important part, the mother says: "No, Phobos, Meridian is meant for your sister. That's the law. The crown is hers.)

What we can see here are a few very important things:

1. Phobos is at most 5 years older than Elyon.

2. The name "Phobos" is not an edgy nickname he gave himself. Five-year-olds don't go around calling themselves Phobos. So his parents, for some reason, gave him that name.

3. His mother is very adamant about him not even touching the crown and reminding him of his sisters' birthright.

So, after establishing what I would call more or less facts, what else can, relatively savely, be deduced here?

- Since Elyon never noticed anything weird about herself, she can't have aged slower than earth children. So neither can Phobos. This would mean that, as she was kidnapped after her mothers death as a baby, he would have been five. So, he either tried his best to rule at age five, or the council we see as Elyon rules stepped in for him for a while

- this would then mean two things: we need an explanation as to why Miriadel, Alborn and Galgheita fled explicitly from Phobos (I'll give my explanation a bit further down) and second, Phobos' reign of terror wasn't even thirteen years, and a lot of that time he was a child/teen and could not even have been mature enough to rule.

- This also means that Kandrakar pulled up the veil when Phobos was at most five, likely younger, and that the so called "Seal of Phobos" also existed at that time, as both the veil and the seal are seen in the flashback depicting Elyons abduction. For Kandrakar, this, too, I will try to explain soon, but as for the seal, I find it most plausible that the theory @ror-witch used in their fanfiction, of the seal being a royal heirloom and named after each ruler, is true.

- His and his mother's relationship was neither as bad as some assumptions go, but neither was it that good, probably, or at least it wasn't in his perception. See how his memory is of her cradling the baby the entire time and talking more about his sisters birthright than about what he has/can do? Yes, it's only a short memory, but I think it's clear that it's a summary of what he remembers of his mother.

- Phobos desire to rule Meridian does not stem from something deeply sinister, but rather from a childish spite. Five year old Phobos probably just wanted the crown cause it looked nice and shiny, and he was fabulous even back then, but after his mothers words, he sulked and decided to show her. That's his motivation.

So, now let's go a bit further and look at some other things we can deduce from the rest of the comics:

- Phobos has a huge dungeon, a wall of roses that turn people into more roses if they touch it and his plan for the annihilation of Meridian is "Well, Cedric and I hide in the castle and...we'll see". He hates the people of Meridian, but he doesn't seem to have it in him to directly attack anyone until Elyon is there and even here, when he has her knocked out in their duel or locked up as Endarno, he isn't unnecessarily cruel. He's not evil in nature, he's more of a very dangerous child throwing tantrums. ( Cedric is kinda similar, and they both start losing it toward the coronation, but I sincerely believe that before that, there would have been a chance for them to come around )

- The only person he ever tortures or even hurts directly is Cedric. Because one, he likes Cedric and so gets more extreme emotions around him, and two, Cedric never says anything, and just plays it of afterwards, so I don't know if he even fully realizes what he's doing, like a child hitting someone. If Cedric ever just said "Stop it, you're hurting me", Phobos would probably need an entire week to process that input.

- Phobos is VERY reclusive, and he doesn't want anyone to have even pictures of him, and while that could be a God complex, I get some highly insecure vibes out of it, in a vulnerable narcissist kinda way, in that he is massively overcompensating. I gotta admit, though, that I cannot put my finger on why, so maybe take this with a grain of salt and decide for yourself if you agree.

- Kandrakar never orders the guardians to help Meridian in any way, just to make sure nothing oozes out. They likely pulled up the veil for their own protection, so Phobos wouldn't be able to spread far enough to become a real danger, rather than to protect innocent people, as clearly the Meridian people mean shit to them

- while the guards are widely feared in Meridian, Cedric seems to be viewed as... not very frightening or important, as some random merchant feels comfortable clinging to his cape (and rightfully so, apparently, as Cedric just tells him to piss off and doesn't care any further). This further leads me to believe that Cedric is rather unhealthy devoted to Phobos and his tantrums while their shitty ass reign leaves a lot of free space for unsuited people to become guards and tyranize the people.

- the King and Queen seem to have died in rapid succession, and shortly after the scene shown above, yet she looks perfectly healthy in that scene.

Now, what do I make of all this?

I believe the line of events to be as follows:

I don't think Phobos traveling back in time is a viable theory for mainly two reasons: I think his mother would be less chill around him if she saw/heard about his reign herself, and I believe that it would have been mentioned somewhere along the way if that were the case. Instead, what I believe happened is that the oracle had a vague vision of Phobos nearly taking over Kandrakar. Deciding in their random mood swings that today was a day of action, they had the people of Meridian informed that the next male born to a queen would become a dangerous tyrant, pulled up a veil and set their guardians to make sure nothing oozed out.

The veil, of course, made the people of Meridian feel trapped and a horror of the unborn prince who would ruin their lives spread.

So, when Weira gave birth to that prince, a full blown panic spread, so much so that she, in a fit of hysterical emotion, named him after that boust of panic. Of course, people tried to kill the prince basically from the moment he was born, and he was met with barely concealed resentment.

Soon after, Weira and her husband died - whether they were killed, or fell ill, or died in an accident, I have no idea, but I wouldn't completely rule out an assassination either aimed at Phobos and accidentally hitting them or the strain making at least one of them fall terminally ill.

Either the people rioted and Phobos' magic panic reaction or the leftover loyal guard was enough to fight them back, or the people succumbed to their fate at this point, slumping into the state of despair seen throughout the comics. But in the end, five year old Phobos had to be handed the throne. I assume the council still had some say at this point, but he did manage to get all pictures of him destroyed - this order was likely due to the fact that they were mostly caricatures.

So he grew up with the very volatile combination of a shitton of power and no one able to tell him if he was being stupid on one hand, and feeling unloved and unwanted on the other. He withdrew, likely also due to countless assassination attempts or things he perceived as such, and went into a negative feedback loop of being unable to mature and take responsibility, therefore being a shit ruler, therefore being hated, therefore having no one to help him, therefore being unable to face and grow from his mistakes, rinse and repeat.

So, Meridian was plunged into chaos, yet he seemed fine more or less just sitting in the new playroom he made for himself in the gardens, sporadically giving out an order or two and having generally no idea about anything that didn't directly concern him.

Enter Elyon. Now, she send him of the rails, as she was a danger to his lifestyle AND a reminder of all the sentiments he'd be drowning in alcohol if he wasn't too much of a recluse and education denier to know of that option. He doesn't even try. He just lets Cedric, the one person he trusts, handle her, like everything else, and somewhat plays along sometimes, when he feels like it. This is where he passes the point of no return and starts actually trying to kill people, culminating in him creating an army to wipe out Meridian. I still believe that even at this point, in his head, what he's doing is just throwing a nice toy out the window just so his sister won't have it.

[redrobin-detective]

Starlit Vigil

Dannymay Day 4: Stars _____________________________

Everything has a story to it, a tale interwoven into it’s very being from it’s birth to it’s death. Sometimes the mystery of the story is as much a story in and of itself. 

Scientists and researchers can’t say when the constellation first appeared in the night sky. It could be seen above Antarctica, near where the edge of the continent meets the Indian Ocean. It confounded a great many people as stars simply didn’t appear out of nowhere. But these did, slowly over the course of several decades sometimes years apart but two appeared within hours of each other. Each new star, eight in total, had a glistening, almost unnatural twinkle to them. The constellation was named Mnemosyne after the Grecian goddess of memory and the stars eight of her nine daughters, better known as the Muses. 

You’ve always had your eyes turned towards the stars and Mnemosyne in particular had always captured your attention. You can’t really explain what it is about those stars that speak to you. Maybe it’s sheer impossibility of their existence. Perhaps it’s the particular beauty of these stars, sometimes appearing to shift in shape and change colors. Or it could be the story behind the stars, the mystery that couldn’t be solved and so imagination filled in the holes left behind.

They say there was a great king, hundreds of years ago. A king who was powerful and kind and helped create the world as we know it. The land of the dead exists and certain people can interact with those beyond it. Technology and understanding have advanced dramatically and, while no life would ever be perfect, there was a general sense of peace that could felt in this world and the next. This king loved our world so much it’s said he plucked the greatest jewels he could find and placed them in the stars where he could watch over and cherish them forever. It’s a sentiment you can understand. 

You study astronomy in school and when you’re given a chance to travel to the Antarctic Circle to study Mnemosyne, you can’t say yes fast enough. The bitter cold and isolation is a small price to pay to see your favorite constellation up close. Maybe when you see it with your own eyes, you can unravel some of the questions people have been asking over the years. Why the goddess of Memory? Why are the stars named after the Muses but missing the muse of astronomy, Urania? What is the true story behind the supernaturally bright stars that appeared out of nowhere?

It’s hard to sleep during the day, partially because it goes against your normal circadian rhythm but you’re also too excited for night to come. For the stars to come out. You bundle up in the warmest clothes, pack your cameras and notebooks and throw the highest quality telescope you can carry over your shoulder. Arriving at the best site for star gazing, you are so delighted by the clear skies and sparkling stars that it takes you an extra moment to realize that you’re not alone.

At first, you think it’s one of the many researchers conducting studies at the pole but it’s soon apparent that this is someone new. Their hair is stark white, almost appearing one with the blustering wind as it’s blown around. You can’t see what they’re wearing because a thick white cape covers them entirely; it has the consistency of freshly fallen snow. Atop their head floats a crown made of pure, crystalline ice. Your eyes widen behind your protective goggles. The existence of ghosts was common knowledge by now but it’s another thing to see one up close. You turn to leave, before the spirit notices you.

“Don’t leave,” he says quietly but despite the roaring of the wind, you can hear him perfectly clear. “You came to watch the stars too, I don’t mind. Mnemosyne is my favorite.”

“Mine too,” you say back without even thinking. “I would love to know their stories.” The ghost turns to smile at you and his eyes are a bright, glowing green without any pupils or sclera. 

“Come, I’ll tell you about them.” You know you shouldn’t. While most spirits aren’t malicious, this one exudes a power you can’t even imagine. But you find yourself stepping closer anyway. You want to hear the stories of the stars and his smile is the warmest thing you’ll find for miles. Somehow you know this ghost won’t harm you. He points up at Mnemosyne and your twin gazes stare up in wonder. 

“They say souls and stars are made of the same ingredients. When I was a boy, I loved this thought. There was something comforting in knowing that, no matter where I went, that I could carry the stars within me,” the ghost explains, looking at you joyfully. 

“But unlike stars, souls are mortal, impermanent,” he says, his smile turning sad. “So I thought, why not put a soul into a star? Then it could last for eons.” He turns back to the stars with a melancholic expression. “Danielle was the first, my little sister. She was always fragile and after only a decade of life, one day she just broke. Her core was too damaged to become a full ghost so I offered her another way to live on. I took the brightness of her smile and made it into a star, into Euterpe. She was the muse of lyrics and poetry, they say she was the ‘bringer of delight’. It suited Danielle.”

“My enemy died next,” the ghost continues. “He hurt me and, moreover, hurt the ones I loved. But he was the only one who truly understood me. His existence comforted me no matter how much bad blood existed between us. His life was full of misfortune, most of it self-inflicted but his fear of death pulled on my heart. My last move in our battle was to make him a star as well, Melpomene, the muse of tragedy. I put him far away from Danielle, I think he’d hurt her.”

“My parents passed a few decades later,” the ghost whispers. “Mom went first, in her sleep. Dad always followed her example so it wasn’t a surprise when Dad followed her in death before the day was done. They were scientists, I think but they loved me very much. Things were tense, I remember being afraid for some reason but their deaths pained me. They were too fulfilled to become ghosts. I grabbed bits of their essence before it dissipated and made the stars Polyhymnia and Terpsichore, the muses of hymns and dance respectively. They were a perfect couple, partners in everything. A song and a dance, always in time with each other.”

The wind rustles the ghost’s cape, he clutches it as if he is cold. You cannot tear your eyes from the the soft grief on his face. 

“Valerie went next, some sort of illness; I can’t remember the details,” the ghost frowned. “She had no desire to become a ghost, no matter how much I asked her to stay. I am King of All Ghosts and yet I got on my knees and begged for some part of her to keep with me. In the end, I stole a bit of her fading spirit and crafted Calliope, the assertive muse, the author of epic poetry. She shines so brightly up there like she had in life.”

“Jasmine died peacefully in her sleep like our mother. She was always protecting me, even in death. Her devotion to knowledge and my wellbeing kept her by my side for many years but it wasn’t enough to last forever. When her spirit was nothing more than wisps, I took her core and placed Clio with the rest of our family. The muse of history, the proclaimer of great deeds fit my older sister well.”

“Tucker and Sam stayed with me the longest. Tucker went first, a quick death from an aged body followed by years as the playful spirit I always knew him as. Sam, my life and my love, passed the same and was my queen in death as she’d been in life. But love can delay death but not deny it and their spirits needed to move on. I kissed them both, my soulmates and made them into stars. Thalia, the muse of comedy and idyllic poems for the light Tucker brought to me. Erato for Sam, muse of love and its poetry for all that she inspired and gave me.”

You see glowing tears running down his face, he holds his hands out to the night sky. His fingers are curved as if wanting to reach and tenderly brush the faces of people long gone. Only they’re not gone completely. You look at the stars with a newfound appreciation. They are no longer pinpricks of long dead light but people who lived and died and yet still lived on in such beauty. If you look closely, you can almost see them. Brushes of red hair, dark rugged skin, the glint of glasses, a flash of amethyst eyes. 

“There’s no Urania,” you say quietly, the wind tossing them. 

“Not yet,” he says longingly, “but soon. The Zone and the Earth are at peace, they won’t need my protection for much longer. When that happens, my spirit will leave this world and join my loved ones in the stars as Urania.” This ghost has been dead for longer than you’ve been alive, longer than many of your most recent ancestors. But his love can still be felt, still burns high above in the sky for everyone to see. What better eternity is there?

“May I tell their story?” You ask and he only nods in response, not taking his eyes off Mnemosyne. You get the feeling he has forgotten about you, caught up in the light of his loved ones shining down on him, waiting. All at once, you realize how late it is, how cold. You leave to return to the research shelter, to write the history of the miracle constellation. 

The stars made out of souls, crafted by love.

Twelve years later, you are not surprised when you look up and see a ninth star in the constellation of Mnemosyne. It glows brightly, twinkling with the other muses as if in conversation. You can only smile through your tears, so profoundly happy that Urania’s lonely vigil is finally over and they have assumed their rightful place among the stars. 

[unethical-gender]

For context, I wanted it to be that the start of every chapter would be George and Dream talking in prison and eventually it would be just one big chapter of every chapter starter plus more and then george leaves the prison but I never got that far so. Enjoy👍

------------

"Why are you really here?"

George barely registered the question. He was still drowsy, the events of the day failing to sufficiently wake him. He didn't even look up to acknowledge Dream; he knew exactly where he was, sat a few feet away, slumped against the wall, dressed in torn, faded, and burned orange fabric that marked him prison property. It was a comfort to George, but also made him sick to look at.

"I told you why I'm here," George finally replied, voice as tired as he was and barely heard over the roar and crackling of the molten lava feet away, burning his skin. It was a familiar feeling at this point, nearly comforting, reminding him of the times that prisons didn't exist here, times when the only worry was temporary pain.

"I don't believe that you just suddenly want to see me," Dream said, the audible frown in his voice hurting George more than he expected. "You don't love me anymore. Why are you here?" 

"I still-" George started, voice caught in his throat. He forced himself to look up, to meet Dream's gaze, unfamiliarly unobstructed. His grey-green eyes shone wet in the orange light. George sighed.

"I still love you, Dream. I can't just stop loving you. That doesn't mean I like the person you've become."

Dream scoffed, breaking eye contact and instead gazing at his few belongings next to him. "The person I've become?" He almost laughed. "George, I've always been like this. You just chose not to see it."

George tightened his grip on nothing, un-cut nails digging into his palms until his joints ached from the pressure. He let his hands go slack by his sides.

"You're lying," George said meekly, trying to lace his words with a confidence he couldn't muster. Dream cocked his head, smirking with venom that George used to feel protected by. Venom that usually wasn't for him; now it was. Dream scooted closer, George forced in place by the deadly heat behind him. Now Dream was only a foot away, so close that George could smell him. He didn't smell very nice, dirt and sweat replacing his usual scent of wood and smoke.

"I'm lying?" Dream asked. "Since when do I lie to you?" George swallowed, words forming and passing through his lips before he could think.

"He said you weren't supposed to be like this," George's voice leaked the kind of anger only found in a deep love, the kind of anger that burns white hot because your heart has been broken. Dream's smirk faltered, but only for a moment. Almost instantly he was staring into George's soul and searching for an answer.

"Who's he, George?"

✳✳✳

George stretched, a newfound liveliness in his limbs. He could wander for hours without tiring, he felt. He brushed a hand through his hair, dried stems and grass falling out, he had been lying on the ground. He temporarily removed his glasses to quickly rub his eyes of all remaining sleep, keeping them shut tight until he replaced them. Bright, eternally summer days made his head ache without the dark filter of his sunglasses.

He quickly rose, searching for something to do. Conflict quickly rose around him every day, and he only wished to live like he did before there were worries and wars and death. He just wanted to run through fields and forests, to inhale moist, woodsy air and sleep in shady mushroom patches. So, he decided that's what he would do.

He walked until he fell under the shade of a forest (a natural one, not one that had been planted by someone), embracing the sweet and heavy air. He hadn't taken time to enjoy himself like this in a while. He walked until the trees were so thick he was nearly blind. He removed his sunglasses, face light from the lack of plastic. He still squinted, light occasionally squeezing through gaps in the thick oak branches.

He sat, leaned against a tree, and brushed his hands over the ground. He looked at the thick carpet of moss, the rotting, broken logs nearby, the red and white spotted mushrooms that grew around him. He felt at peace, like nothing and no one could find him or hurt him here. It was a pleasant distraction from his normally prison-themed thoughts. He decided he needed to do this more often.

He wasn't tired at all, he even felt energized, but the thick air was like a blanket urging him to melt into the tree and the moss and close his eyes once more. Who was he to deny the forests whims, to resist letting his eyes rest for a moment and let his other senses take over?

The forest air, of course, had a different plan, filling his lungs like a drug and quickly luring him into an undesired sleep amongst the thick flora. The forest almost seemed to want to claim him as it's own. It wouldn't be the first to try.

His awakening was rude, sudden golden light flooding in and burning his retinas through his shut eyelids. He quickly covered his eyes, head already threatening to burst. He groaned. Why was there suddenly a light source in the once blackened forest?

"Hello there."

A voice suddenly made George jump. The voice was familiar in a way that made his stomach turn and his heart drop. It was a voice he knew was impossible to be hearing.

"Dream?" He asked, hoping to be wrong. There wasn't a reply for a moment, swaying trees and distant water filling the silence.

"Is something wrong with your eyes?" The voice asked. George swore it echoed, but that must have been a trick of his aching brain, surely.

"Yes, you know that there is just- where are my glasses?" George groaned, reaching one hand around to feel blindly at the surrounding ground. Dream's possible escape from prison was second to him in his list of priorities, regaining vision being a clear winner for first place.

Suddenly, cool plastic tapped the hand covering George's eyes, making him jump. He quickly grabbed them and put them on, opening his eyes slowly to adjust and looking forward, expecting to see a disheveled Dream standing before him. The sight there, however, made him jump and try to slide backwards, a small yelp escaping him.

That wasn't Dream.

Instead of Dream as George had predicted stood, no, floated, what looked like an older version of Dream, if George had to guess. He domineered in size, twice the size of a human proportionally, large gold rings floating and crossed in an x surrounding his torso, spinning slowly. His face was obstructed by a nearly familiar mask, a large "XD" replacing the usual smile. George knew who this was, of course. Anyone did. He just never thought he would ever be face to face with DreamXD, with God, in any of his lifetimes.

He wore little clothing, a skirt-like wrap around his waist, emerald green and falling to his knees. He wore a hooded cape, a matching green, buckled at his bare chest with an eye of ender, or at least a replica of one. He stared menacingly down at George, curiosity visible on the lower, uncovered half of his face.

"DreamXD?" George asked, half hoping his eyes were deceiving him, that this was some headache fueled delusion. XD cocked his head, an action George found familiar to Dream.

"Yes. That's me." He replied, voice echoing by itself and eerily similar to Dream's. George was still stunned, hands gripping at the forest floor.

"What is wrong with your eyes?" XD asked, drifting forward and leaning down a bit. George couldn't back up, forced against the tree, so he sat still and stiff, contemplating how to answer.

"I, uh, don't know exactly," George started. "Its just they're super sensitive to light. I need the sunglasses to see." He gestured to the obvious glasses on his face. XD looked curious at every word George said.

"So if its dark you can take them off?" He asked. George nodded slowly, somewhat worried about what XD would do. XD was moving his hands, George watching as he waved through air with a determination George couldn't understand. When his hands stopped he held them out, an item materializing in his hands.

He held out to George a large sun hat, brim wide enough to go past his shoulders and colored bright red, uneven white splotches decorating it. It was a mushroom hat, resembling the ones George was sat amongst. George took it cautiously, leaning forward to make room and gently placing it on his head. It fit perfectly.

"You can take off the glasses," XD said. George's hands moved a bit, but hesitated. Sure, the hat blocked a lot of light, but if it wasn't enough it would be painful. Then again, how was he supposed to refuse the requests of God?

Slowly he removed the glasses, squinting his eyes in expectation, waiting for the spikes of pain to shatter his skull. It never came. He blinked, able to see the forest clearly now, untinted and beautiful. XD moved in closer; he would have been looking George straight in the eyes of his weren't covered by a mask. George had a feeling he could see him anyways.

"Your eyes are different," XD remarked. George darted his eyes around, trying not to look directly at XD.

"Yeah, they're different colors. Always have been." George muttered. XD looked like he might reach his hands out to touch his eyes, but instead kept his hands to himself, still levitating.

"You have pretty eyes, George," XD said in a way that made Georges stomach flip. He now sounded almost exactly like Dream. The echo in XD's voice had faded, yet was still audible, a small reminder that he still wasn't human. He had sounded like Dream before, sure, but the reverb had muddled it to a point of no effect. With the voice changed, though, George couldn't ignore the familiarity.

George didn't respond, just sat in a stunned silence, searching for coherent words. XD didn't seem to mind, seemingly content with staring into George's eyes, transfixed in amber and blue.

"Are you okay, George?" XD asked after a minute of George's nervous gaze. George blinked back.

"Yeah, Dream, I'm fine," he replied before he could think about it. XD didn't falter. It was his name, somewhat, even if it was apparent that George didn't mean it to address him.

"Why are you here," George asked, hoping to move the subject off of himself.

"Because you're here, George," XD said. He kept the echo out of his voice the best he could, watching the way something in George's eyes shifted. "You invited me here."

"Invited you?" George searched his memory for anything he did that could have summoned God. Nothing came to mind. "How did I invite you?"

"You're very welcoming, George. You seemed like you wanted to see me."

George bit his tongue. How did he seem like he wanted to see DreamXD? Wait, he thought, I was thinking about Dream and the prison, wasn't I? Is that enough to draw God's attention to you?

He forced himself out of his thoughts and slowly tried to rise without moving forward. XD followed him up as he rose, maintaining "eye contact" (since George couldn't see the others eyes, he wasn't sure it could qualify).

"I think I need to go now," George said, searching for an out. XD stayed still.

"Why? You have nowhere to be. You're asleep." XD stated like it was a known fact between the two. It was not.

"Im not sleeping," George corrected. "I woke up. You woke me up." XD shrugged as if to say "If you think so, sure."

"If you think you're awake, prove it to me," XD said. The echo in his voice had returned. George almost mourned the loss.

"How am I supposed to prove im awake, I mean, I just am," doubt began seeping into George's statements. He was awake, he was sure of it.

"Do you think I'm lying to you?" XD asked. "Why would I lie to you, George. What would I gain from that?" George opened his mouth and shut it just as quickly.

"I guess that's fair," he muttered. "But how can I prove im awake? Like, pinch myself?" He tried without request, hissing at the sting.

"Do you doubt the power of your dreams, George?" XD asked. George faltered for a moment. You aren't supposed to feel pain in dreams, right? Then again, you aren't exactly supposed to have casual interactions with God either, but here he was.

"So what, I'm lucid dreaming?" George asked, still disbelieving that a dream could feel this real. XD shook his head.

"You're still underestimating your mind, George," he said, echo slowly fading until it was nearly gone. "You're powerful."

George tilted his head down, the brim of his hat sufficiently blocking his face from view. Why must he sound so much like Dream when complicating me? He thought. Does he know the effect he has?

"So," George started carefully. "If im sleeping right now, does that mean im just imagining you?" XD shook his head again.

"I'm just as real as you are," he said, startling George as he reached a large hand to brush fingertips against Georges cheek, making his face flush pink. "Probably even more real."

"More real?" George asked, not moving away from XD's touch. "What does that mean? How can you be more real than me?"

"You ask a lot of questions," XD remarked, bringing his hand back and away from George. "You're smart. You can figure things out." George frowned.

"Why can't you just tell me things?" He asked. XD shook his head.

"You're asking questions again," he scolded. George was about to retaliate when XD held a hand up.

"I think it's time you woke up, George," he said. George felt a part of him panic. This was the closest thing he had gotten to a conversation with Dream in ages. Well, a conversation that wasn't a tearful and angry goodbye.

"Wake up?" George asked, now incredibly self conscious about the questions he asked. "Will you still be here?"

XD smiled, lowering himself to the ground finally. He towered over George, over twice his height and powerful enough to probably crush George's head between his hands without trying. He was closer, though, close enough that George could see slight strands of dirty blonde hair poke out from under XD's hood when he looked far up enough.

"I'm always here," XD said. "If you want to see me again, you just need to want to see me. I'll know." George shook his head slightly.

"That doesn't make sense," he criticized. "So can I see you when im awake, too?" XD's smile didn't change, but the energy of it shifted noticeably.

"You'll just have to see, won't you George?" George wanted to protest again, but his eyelids suddenly were overtaken with weight and his mind was slowing.

"Wake up, George. You can't sleep forever."

George was awake, the forest dark as it was when he fell asleep, glasses sat beside him and-

Holy shit.

The mushroom hat XD had made him in his dream was sat upon his legs in front of him. It was real.

"Probably even more real," the God's words ringing in George's head. He was more confused than ever now, unsure if he had actually been asleep or not. Other than the hat there was no sign of XD, the hole in the forest roof nonexistent now.

He already felt himself longing to hear that voice again. XD had told George that if he wanted to see him, he'd be there. XD wasn't there. Of course, this only lead to one thought for George:

He can only visit me in my dreams.

George now hated his energy, his lack of tiredness, and wished for sleep once again. He wished to hear the voice that tied his stomach in knots because it was once a voice that whispered sweet nothings into his ear at night. He wished to see the closest thing he had to the arms that held him tight and lips that declared George to be claimed by Dream in one way or another. This was the closest thing to loving Dream again, being loved by Dream again, that he probably would ever get. 

DreamXD had told him that he couldn't sleep forever, but in that moment he had fully prepared to fall into a coma with no regrets.

[champion-prism]

Fluff Alphabet- Champion Leon

Activities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Initially, it’s all a bit Pokemon centric. Going to the Wild Area to see wild Pokemon, battling and training, occasionally even grooming and dressing Pokemon up (you have a picture of Charizard with pink ribbons around his ear/horn things). But Leon is observant, he quickly takes notice of your special interests and plans activities surrounding them. 

Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them? 

Leon thinks the most beautiful thing about his s/o is how kind they are. He is encouraging and sweet by nature, wanting to bring out the best in everyone around it- it warms his heart when he sees how kind you are to the people around you, especially if you’re dealing with children.

Comfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Wraps his cape around you. It’s heavy, but warm and comforting and it smells like him. Soft kisses on your face, gently asking if you want to talk. 

Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

He won’t easily admit it, but he likes to think about getting a farm, somewhere far away from the lights. A farm and a barn and some Wooloo around, maybe a few kids? He loves his job, both when he’s champion and when he’s running the battle tower, but he longs for the quaint rusticity of Postwick sometimes; he wants to whisk you away to someplace pretty and natural.

Equal - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Dominant. Leon is very sweet, he’s a good guy, but for all that, he’s used to being an unstoppable force. He’s also an older sibling, someone who had a parental role from very early on, so Leon is used to thinking that he is responsible, that he knows best. He can be a bit overbearing at times, but he’s aware enough to take it down a bit when you point it out.

Fight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

If it’s a fight about something fundamental that you disagree on, Leon will try to compromise, but he won’t keel over. If push comes to shove and you violate one of the principles he holds fundamental to himself, that’s a deal breaker. However, with petty little fights and squabbles, he can be difficult. If you’re upset with others, Leon can be very understanding. If you’re upset at him, that’s a different case altogether. He’ll move directly to appeasement without understanding the issue, he’ll be cranky if his attempts at apologizing don’t work- the good news is, once you properly communicate to him why you’re upset, he’ll genuinely try to make a change. If he’s upset with you, still difficult. Leon doesn’t like to admit he’s hurt, he doesn’t like to admit that he had expectations that weren’t met. You’ll have to pry it out of him, then apologize with lots of kisses.

Gratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Moderately grateful. Leon’s observational skills pertain directly to what he chooses to focus on. With his head up in the clouds, he may miss a few things that you do for him here or there, but on the whole he’s very appreciative of you. Loves it when you take time off to come to his battles, to travel to different cities or regions with him. The thing he’s probably most grateful for is when you wash his hair- the first time you did it, he assumed you were going to have shower sex, but you ended up carefully untangling, washing, and unconditioning his hair. The sheer care and effort made him tear up a little, to be honest. 

Honesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

He’s not dishonest, more so repressed. He doesn’t want to tell you things that he thinks would unnecessarily make you worry, and he’s careful when he talks about himself- years of diplomacy in practice. You get to know Leon slowly, over late night pillow talks and rare moments of vulnerability and exhaustion- but it’s all worth it, in the end.

Inspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

To Leon, real love should be a means of self actualization. He knows he’s truly in love with you when he realizes you both make each other better. You admire and learn from his work ethic; because of you, Leon learns to become more emotionally open, and it helps all his relationships, especially with Hop.

Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Unfortunately, yes. He doesn’t seem like it, but Leon is a little insecure, along with being competitive. His insecurities stem from how he feels the need to be perfect- he needs to be the ultimate whatever- the ultimate trainer, the ultimate boyfriend, etc. He tends to focus on what he perceives as flawed within himself, and it helps him grow, but at the same time, it can get a bit unhealthy. So when he sees you with other guys, or if someone flirts with you, he gets a bit withdrawn and sulky- in his head, he’s trying to figure out how to better himself to the point where there’s no chance of losing, become the ultimate boyfriend you’d never dream of leaving. It takes a lot of prying to get these things out of him, and a lot of talking to eventually make him realize that you like him for him. 

Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Good kisser. The first kiss is gentle- he’s figuring you out, he goes in slow and soft, fingers cusping your chin with one arm around your waist. HIs lips are soft against yours, and he ends up smiling against your lips before he goes in to kiss you again. 

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Woah, boy. It does not come easy. Leon is a strategist by nature, so he plans and plans and plans. He lays the groundwork. The thing with romance is, it doesn’t have the same degree of predictability as a Pokemon battle, so Leon is a bit out of his element. After a lot of times of backtracking, chickening out mid sentence, and very unassuming flirting, he ends up just telling you when you’re talking at his place one night, his eyes wide and misty as he looks into yours and tells you he’s falling in love with you.

Marriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose?

Definitely wants to get married. He wants a soft domestic situation with comfort and mutual affection. His proposal would be private, one moment in his life he definitely doesn’t want to share with the public. Probably a soft romantic date, followed by a midnight walk where he’s holding your hand, saying sweet romantic things, before he leads you back to his apartment. He’s got a sweet little setup on his balcony, overlooking the Wyndon skyline, with an assortment of cushions and blankets on the floor where you sit and cuddle and talk until he sets himself up, gives a tiny speech, and pulls out the ring. When you say yes, Charizard emerges from within the apartment, carefully another, daintier ring between his teeth as Leon laughingly explains that his Pokemon wanted to propose, too. 

Nicknames - What do they call their s/o?

In public, he’ll stick with a shortened version of your name, or something like babe. In private, he has personal nicknames for you, some teasing, coming from inside jokes.

On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

Leon is very guarded with others, but when he’s in love, the people close to him notice that he’s more energetic than ever. Happier, more upbeat, maybe even a little giddy. His happiness permeates everything he does, and he’s even more sunshiny that usual.

PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Very, very private. Leon’s entire image is carefully controlled, and he doesn’t like bringing his personal life into it at all. He’s a bit possessive, so he might hold your hand and glare around any guys that happen to look you over, but nothing more than that. However, with his friends and family, he’s obviously very proud of you- doesn’t brag, but he’s always the first to appreciate your achievements and support you. 

Quirk - Some random ability they have that's beneficial in a relationship.

He’s a very caring person in a responsible way, so he’s always making sure you’re well fed, happy, exercising, things like that. 

Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Romantic and creative. He’s always finding clever ways to make you happy, either through presents or gestures that involve humour and inside jokes and a very personal touch.

Support - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

He’s a whole cheerleader, no matter what you do. Always cheering you on, always believing in you, hyping you up, telling you to believe in yourself. He does whatever he can to help you with your goals, whether it’s helping you keep fit, or waking you up in the morning for classes.

Thrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice up your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Prefers routine. He doesn’t want thrill or exhilaration from his relationship, he gets enough of that at work. He wants comfort. He wants to cuddle on the couch and chatter mindlessly, drag you playfully and be dragged, eat dinner together, read, be all warm and comfy and safe.

Understanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Empathetic and observant, he knows you well. He remembers every little detail he’ picked up about you, whether directly from you or from other sources. 

Value - How important is the relationship to them? What is it worth in comparison to other things in their life?

The more time elapses, the more important it is to him. Leon’s altogether too busy to simply be messing around, and as you guys are in it for the long run, your relationship is one of the most valuable things in his life. You’re a solid part of his life, someone he knows and respects and loves.

Wild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

One of his favourite things to do with you is just watch you play video games when he’s snuggled up beside you, your legs entangled in a blanket. If it’s an RPG, he’ll get invested in the storyline and ask you not to play without him. He’s an enthusiastic cheerleader during boss fights. LOVES Super Mario Odyssey- he makes you buy Mario a snapback, and he even ends up playing co-op with you when he learns that he can play as Cappy. 

XOXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Privately very affectionate, even a little sappy. Lots of chaste kisses here and there- on your forehead, your cheeks, your shoulders, your hands. When he has time to relax, he loves being held and having his hair played with or braided. It might make sleeping a lil complicated because you end up with a big, dense man with his arms and legs thrown over you, but you appreciate it all the same.

Yearning - How will they cope when they're missing their partner?

He works harder and smarter than ever. He’ll throw himself into training, but when he gets back home at night, he’ll miserably yearn to be cuddled and held, especially when he’s so tired. 

Zeal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

As long as he knows you’d reciprocate, Leon will go above and beyond for you. It doesn’t matter what you need- care, attention, presents, gestures he’ll do them. It gives him a huge rush to see you happy because of him, to see you light up and pull him in for a passionate kiss.

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian - “Always and Forever” Chapter 2

After the death of their daughter Grace, Kurt and Sebastian drift apart. Kurt wraps himself up in his grief so tightly he starts to push Sebastian away, and Sebastian, feeling himself shoved aside when he needs Kurt most, cheats. They make the decision to start over, to leave New York City and their pain behind, and start over again in a house Upstate. Sebastian buys Kurt a "fixer upper" and gives him free reign. While redecorating the room that will be his studio, Kurt comes across something interesting underneath the wallpaper. It starts to become an obsession for Kurt - an obsession that begins to replace Kurt's love for his husband, which Sebastian is holding on to by a thread. Can Kurt and Sebastian break through the pain and the hurt and find a way to fall in love again?

Read on AO3

Chapter 2 (5061 words)

The first evening in their new house becomes a long, exhaustive dance of unpacking and cleaning in preparation for the movers to arrive in the morning. What, in the past, would have been an upbeat two-step of flirting in the hallways while lugging in suitcases, punctuated by the occasional stop, dip, and smooch, is now a formal, boxy waltz, with Sebastian giving Kurt a wide-berth whenever he hears his husband coming, and Kurt pausing in doorways, eyes darting elsewhere when Sebastian passes by.

The rush to clear the dirt away and make things suitable for the furniture they chose to bring with them affords Kurt ample opportunities to send Sebastian on a host of errands, ensuring him stretches of time that he can spend alone to reflect and think.

Consider the past and plan for the future.

Even after the furniture arrives, they should have tons of space left. They had decided not to bring everything they own with them. They aren’t selling their penthouse. Keeping it furnished for the odd trip back seems like the practical thing to do. So, they only packed those things that they absolutely could not live without. 

They didn’t bring any of the furniture from Grace's room. That Kurt donated to the Salvation Army with the exception of one item – a Winnie the Pooh lamp that he had found in mint condition, ironically, at the Salvation Army, on the day he and Sebastian found out their surrogate was pregnant. It's ceramic, hand-painted, with Christopher Robin and Winnie the Pooh sitting back to back as the base, each holding a handful of balloons. One red balloon, larger than the rest, contains the bulb, the colored plastic lending a rosy tint to its glow. Along the bottom edge are written the words: “If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together, keep me in your heart, I’ll stay there forever.”

Kurt’s mother had read him Winnie the Pooh books his entire childhood. He could recite most of A. A. Milne’s writings by the time he turned eight.

The year his mother passed away.

He'd read those same books to his daughter. She’d had them mostly memorized, too.

Seven hours of scrubbing, sanitizing, and (for Sebastian) racing around town wipe the two of them out, to the point where falling asleep is simply a matter of inflating an air mattress and putting heads down on pillows. They had picked up a Queen size one at a JCPenney along the way. It’s nowhere near as luxurious as the custom-made King size bed currently stuck in the back of an Allied Moving Truck, waiting to take a journey on the 495. This mattress is a tighter fit than they’re used to. It doesn’t help that the thing sinks in the middle whenever one of them rolls over. With the both of them measuring six-foot-plus tall, they have to lie in the fetal position to fit comfortably, which would require them to spoon. But Kurt finds a way to keep himself out of his husband’s arms.

The material the mattress is made out of seems perpetually ice-cold, not warming up a touch with their combined body heat, which Kurt didn’t anticipate. They have the gas and electricity switched on, but there’s something wrong with the central heating. They don’t have the requisite amount of blankets to keep from freezing, which adds to the misery. Despite being pissed at Sebastian, Kurt doesn’t have the heart to send him out at one a.m. to the 24-hour Walmart, so he closes his eyes and resigns himself to suffering until dawn.

For the next five hours, Kurt’s mind stays blank. No noise, no dreams, and no flashbacks, thank God. It’s not restful, but it’s the best he could have hoped for. The last half a year has not been conducive to dreaming. The nightmares keep coming, one after the other, the next one worse than the last, shaking him to his core until he jars awake with a pain in his chest like someone had tried, in steel boots, to stomp him into the dirt. But waking up doesn’t solve the problem. He doesn’t know what he hates worse – waking up weeping in his husband’s arms or waking up weeping alone.

Kurt’s feelings for Sebastian are complicated when he thinks they shouldn’t be. Kurt should either love him and forgive him or hate him and move on. But he loves him and hates him. His hands itch to hold him, but a second later, he wants to shove him away. He wants to go, but he can’t imagine leaving.

As much as it sucks, Kurt can’t imagine living without him.

He would prefer to go back to being shamelessly and hopelessly in love with him. Hating him has become a crutch. But it’s enough to get him through. Regardless of that fact, which should tie up the loose ends, mend the hurts and cool the hate, it doesn’t, because Kurt can’t find a way to forgive him.

A well-meaning Facebook friend had told Kurt over Messenger that the problem was Kurt’s pride had been hurt by Sebastian cheating. Push the pride aside and get over it. Ultimately, the marriage is more important. Then he said something about Kurt putting on his “big boy” pants, mentioned God, and quoted the Bible.

A minute later, Kurt blocked him.

That’s another blessing of moving - leaving behind the get over it already crowd. He hates them more than the forever sorry folks. The people who tell him to move on, to get over it, to put it behind him, don’t really care about him. They want him to stop complaining, as if they’re obligated to follow him on social media, and that puts the burden on him, in turn, to make them feel comfortable.

Maybe some of them do care, but not enough to put themselves in his shoes and understand that it’s just not that easy. Being on the outside of the swamp and looking in at a man who’s drowning, yelling at him to grab a branch and pull himself free, is different than being the man stuck hip-deep in mud that feels like cement and losing a fight that’s beyond his control.

Sometimes, as a matter of self-preservation, you simply give up.

Kurt doesn’t know who Sebastian slept with. He has his suspicions, but he doesn’t know for sure, and Sebastian won’t confirm. He says it’s because he wants to put it behind him, forget it ever happened, and that infuriates Kurt. If sleeping with another man was something Sebastian would need to put behind him, why even do it? Or (and Kurt hates himself for thinking like this), if Sebastian didn’t want Kurt to dwell on it, why not take steps to ensure that Kurt wouldn’t find out? Sebastian, of all people, should have known that this would eat Kurt up inside. It’s the kind of thing he’d never let go of. Yes, Kurt would be devastated if he discovered the cheating and the cover-up years after the fact, but he’d be in a better place to mourn his marriage apart from mourning his daughter.

What Sebastian did was selfish on so many levels.

Kurt knows that sex isn’t love, but he can't help wondering – was there a moment in the middle of all of it, caught up in the kissing and the fucking, where it felt like love?

Kurt met Sebastian in high school. Kurt wasn’t just a virgin back then. Oh, no. He had created his own category of virgin for which he could have had a cape and costume custom made – Captain Super Prude. Sex was a taboo topic for him, so much so that his high school’s chastity club hated him. 

Apparently, he set the bar too high, made them look loose in comparison. 

As much as he had fantasized about finding a special someone who would sweep him off his feet, gently usher him into manhood by making soulful but passionate love to him, he preferred not to think about it too often or too in-depth. The "talk” between him and his father was a mortifying experience.

There were pamphlets involved. 

He still has some of them.

When it came to finding a boyfriend, Sebastian wasn’t what Kurt had planned on at all. Where Kurt was attracted to debonair, old-school, gentlemanly types a few years older than himself, Sebastian was crass, rude, explicit, and a year younger. On top of that, he was (to coin a phrase stolen from one of Kurt’s best friends, Quinn) the biggest French whore of them all. Sebastian didn’t care for romance and he didn’t attach emotions to sex, but he definitely had a way of making men fall in love with him. Kurt Hummel and Sebastian Smythe were the two people in the world least likely to fall in love with one another. But according to Sebastian, he fell in love with Kurt long before Kurt fell in love with him.

Sebastian claimed that Kurt was the first man he had ever fallen in love with, and at first sight, no less.

He whispered those words in Kurt’s ear the first time they made love.

He said those exact words during his toast at their wedding.

He wrote them in every birthday, Christmas, and anniversary card he ever gave to Kurt.

He said them over Grace’s crib the night they brought her home.

“Look at this little thing, Kurt,” Sebastian had sighed, reaching out to stroke Grace’s cheek. “Our daughter. Is it ridiculous that I’ve only known her for two days and I’m already in love with her?

“Technically, nine months and two days. But, no. It’s not ridiculous.”

“I never thought I could fall so fast in love with another human being before I met you.”

“Really?” 

“A-ha.” Sebastian smiled when Grace yawned, her whole mouth moving in a complete circle before she settled down again. “I fell in love with you the second I laid eyes on you. And then, well, it was all over for me.”

Those words, the memory of that happiness, breaks Kurt’s heart. Could it be possible that, after close to twenty years of marriage, after reciting those words so many times, they didn’t mean anything anymore? Had Sebastian found someone else he could fall in love with?

Kurt has asked, but Sebastian won’t answer that question. He says it’s insulting.

Whatever the answer, he probably thinks he’s doing his husband a kindness. What he’s really doing is prolonging the torture, not giving Kurt the information he needs to make a decision that he can stand behind. Every time Kurt looks at his husband, he sees touches on his skin that don’t belong to him, kisses on his lips that he didn’t put there.

Kurt doesn’t know how to make himself see past them.

Instead, he looks away.

The second Kurt feels sunlight on his face, he’s out of bed. He grabs his messenger bag and pads down the hall to his studio before Sebastian can stir.

The room looks different with blurry morning sunlight bleeding through the windows. Kurt didn’t put black-out curtains up, and the sheer curtains that came with the house let fingers of light poke through, bouncing off the wallpaper and brightening the floor. 

Yikes.

Kurt examines the floor now that he sees it clearly. It’s a mess - the wood warped as if someone had paced it incessantly. It had been varnished at one time. Spots of resin dot the boards like oily puddles. The wood itself (some variety of walnut, Kurt suspects) has blackened to a morbid pitch with age. It sucks up the light and gives little back.

“Oh, yeah,” Kurt murmurs, pressing around the brittle edge of one spot with his toe, watching it crackle into shards. “This has to be completely redone.”

He gets stuck on the idea that this room could have been his daughter’s if she were still alive. He and Sebastian had talked about raising Grace in a suburban environment, and as much as he regrets not giving her a house with a yard and room to grow, Kurt leaned heavily on the side of staying in the city. Some of his motives were selfish. He loved Manhattan. It had been his lifelong dream to end up there. He wanted his daughter to grow up with all of the things he didn’t – culture, diversity, theaters and libraries and museums a train ride away. He didn’t want her raised around the closed, narrow minds of small-town folk. He wanted her to be an independent thinker – liberated, rational, intelligent. But he also wanted her to be compassionate and kind. He wanted her to know the world, its wonders and its failings, the way it truly was, not the way it looked on a movie screen, and long to change it for the better. They participated in fundraisers, gathered donations for the homeless, and volunteered in soup kitchens.

Grace was a pure light, a driving force that, at her age, Kurt didn’t get the chance to be.

So in honor of her, he wants his workroom to be bright and colorful - a mixture of his vintage aesthetic and her fun-loving personality. He’ll paint the walls her favorite colors, put homages to her in the details, choose the furnishings she would have preferred.

Since this will be the room he spends most of his time in, he wants it to be everything about his daughter that he adored.

He opens his bag and pulls out his phone, checking the time. 6:08. The movers are supposed to arrive between eight a.m. and ten. But movers, electricians, plumbers, and cable guys never arrive on time. He fishes out his sketchbook, sits on the floor, and gets to work jotting down a layout. First things first, he decides where his drafting table will go, where he’ll store his bolts, where he’ll put his sewing machine, a spot for a work chair, marking places here and there for personal touches like his mother’s vanity, his first-ever dress form, a few of his awards...

And photographs. Lots and lots of photographs.

He didn’t keep photographs in his studio at Vogue. He had an obsession with keeping his private life private, which he doesn’t apologize for. Since he met clients there, he liked to keep that space impersonal. Nothing to get in the way, spark a conversation that might derail the job at hand. 

Unlike Sebastian, who hung candids galore. He stuffed the most Godawful photographs from their high school and college years into collage frames and nailed them to every wall of his office, squeezing things like his degrees and diplomas into far corners so that those pictures could be prominently displayed. He said that people knew the Smythes by name and reputation. If anyone wanted to see his credentials, they could Google them. But when people walked into his office, he wanted them to know that first and foremost, he was a family man.

Sebastian knew from childhood that he would become a lawyer. He never dreamed he would be a father. 

Or a husband.

Those were the two accomplishments he seemed the proudest of.

Kurt regrets not having more pictures of Grace hanging on his studio walls, her smiling face to look at every hour of every day, watching his meetings, overseeing his layouts. She was his good-luck charm, his missing puzzle piece. She deserved a place of honor.

Now, he’ll give her one.

His stomach growls as he works. A smell from somewhere tickles his nose, and he groans. Just a few more seconds of sketching on the hard ground, and he’ll grab a bite to eat… maybe. With his ass numb, he doesn’t see a reason to get up, and bedsides, he’s on a roll. Car doors closing and constant banging echo in, and he winces, his head throbbing from lack of sleep. Dammit! If it would just stop till he finishes! It’s hard enough to concentrate as is! He hopes this is a one-time-only thing. He’d hate to wake up to that cacophony every morning. If he ever decides to go outside and meet the neighbors, he’ll have to find a polite way of asking them not to do whatever that is before he has his morning coffee.

Of course, soundproofing is also an option.

“Kurt? Kurt, are you… ?”

Kurt shifts his legs underneath him. He lifts a hand to massage his shoulders. That mattress must have killed his back. His arms ache something fierce. Sitting on this floor doesn’t help, the uneven boards digging into his legs, but it’s not an impetus for him to stop.

Just one more minute.

One more minute of sketching out this room, and he’ll join the world. One more minute to get his thoughts straight. One more minute to brush aside the things that like to torture him. Forget that his mother died when he was eight, his stepbrother when he was eighteen. Forget that his father passed away three years ago and his daughter six months ago.

Not too long after, his husband cheated.

Five.

That’s how many things he had loved in this world more than himself.

Those are the things that he’d lost.

They were the things he needed to forget in order to make it through till the evening.

He’ll replace the insulation and the drywall, smother everything in a noise-proofing compound, then paint the walls in swirls of pink and gold. He’ll do the ceiling in shades of blue, indigo, and violet, like the sky at night, and cover it in crystals to represent stars the way Grace had wanted to do with her bedroom. Kurt had promised her he would the second everything was over, when they could risk her being around the debris and the fumes.

He has never broken a promise to Grace. He isn’t about to start.

He scribbles those notes in sloppy script in the margin of his paper, wipes tears with the back of his shaking hand. He tries to focus on specifics to bring himself back from the brink of a breakdown. He needs a good cry, but he doesn’t want the comforting that will go with it if Sebastian hears him. He can’t right now. Sebastian comforting Kurt turns into Kurt comforting him back, and Kurt only has the strength to handle one outburst.

“Kurt? Did you want to… ?”

Kurt waves a hand to shoo away the buzzing beside his ear, relieved when it doesn’t take much more than that.

In order to paint the walls, he’ll have to take the wallpaper down.

That brings to mind the corner of torn paper over by the window and the word written underneath.

Darling.

That corner offends him. Kurt keeps entertaining the thought that that word has nothing to do with Sebastian, that there is another layer of wallpaper underneath festooned with line art of flowers, along with quotes from various love poems sprinkled throughout, circa 1800s. But then that would make that one tear and that one word an incredible coincidence since darling is the pet name Sebastian has called Kurt since day one. When he started doing it, every time he said it, Kurt had an urge to sock him on the jaw.

He was a pain in the ass, even back then.

Did Sebastian actually think Kurt would fall for writing darling on the wall? After the things he said? After what he did?

Kurt’s hand trembles so badly, he smudges the ink on his page. He stops writing, takes a deep breath, and counts to ten. He closes his eyes and concentrates on the sun warming his face. It’s gone now when it was there a second ago, which is disconcerting, but he has to ignore that and calm down.

He has to relax.

He promised he’d give this marriage a chance, that he’d try to make this work. Sebastian, so far, has held up his part of the bargain. He’s given Kurt space. He’s listened to him vent uncontested. He’s let Kurt keep tabs on him – where he goes, when he’ll be back, with photo texts in between to prove that he is where he said he would be. Kurt has to give him the benefit of the doubt. If Sebastian extends an olive branch, Kurt should take it.

But did he want to?

“I didn’t hear you when you got up this morning.” Sebastian’s voice starts Kurt’s hand up again. He wants to look busy. He doesn’t want to be caught in a position where he has to give his husband his full attention.

He hasn’t forgotten everything yet.

“Well, you were dead to the world,” Kurt replies, distracted.

“I’m just saying, see? You won’t disturb me. You don’t need to put a bed in here.”

Kurt bobs his head back and forth, adding a place in his layout for a foldout out of spite. “We’ll see. It’s only been the one day.”

“That’s true.” The way Sebastian says it, it sounds like a challenge. A tired challenge. Like Sebastian knows he’s already lost. “So, you like the room?”

“Yeah. I think I do.”

“And what about the rest of the house?”

He doesn’t know why Sebastian sounds like he’s asking. It’s a done deal. They both agreed on a new house. Sebastian found one he thought Kurt would like and bought it. What? Are they going to back out now and magically move somewhere else?

Will moving around from house to house solve what’s wrong between them?

“It’s fine, I guess. I don’t know. I think it’s hard for me to visualize without taking the grand tour. I’ll be able to tell better when I get started decorating.”

“Are you gonna hire that guru guy to help you with the yin and yang stuff?” Sebastian jokes cautiously. “That Kung Fu guy… what’s his name… ?” Sebastian snaps his fingers as if he’s seriously trying to remember.

“He’s a Feng shui practitioner, and his name is Carl.”

“His name's Carl?” Sebastian laughs. “No no no, his name is not Carl. Carl is the name of a dentist. He’s not a guy you call to Wang Chung your house.”

“Feng shui,” Kurt corrects again. “I hired him to help me create balance in our home.” He chuckles despite the fact he doesn’t want to find Sebastian funny. He doesn’t want Sebastian to affect him. But he’s right. The man’s name irked Kurt, too, when Isabelle referred him. “Ridiculous name or not, he seemed like a knowledgeable guy.”

“Do you think that Shaolin stuff could work here?”

Kurt pauses to give the matter some thought, and that kills the moment. The levity becomes saturated by the pain hanging in the room, and Kurt coils further into his sketch.

“That remains to be seen. But I think I’m going to try doing it for myself this time. Of course, the overall effect is going to be completely thrown to heck when you hire whoever never to decorate your office.” Kurt throws a derisive scowl over his shoulder. It misses its mark when Kurt won’t look Sebastian in the eyes.

Sebastian swallows Kurt’s scowl without thinking of a comeback. They’ve had that argument before when Kurt redecorated their penthouse. Kurt felt the need to redecorate whenever something big happened in their lives, but Sebastian’s office was off-limits, so it stayed the same. Kurt tried to find one or two things to put into his design scheme that would bring a theme from Sebastian’s office out so that the penthouse would blend, but whatever the thing he chose was – a print, a vase, an ottoman, or a coffee table – it stuck out like a sore thumb, until Kurt tried less and less.

“Can’t fight City Hall,” he’d say, returning to the business of finishing the rest of the space. Things changed around them, and yet, in Sebastian’s carefully curated world, life stood still. The last time Kurt redecorated was before Grace was born. Nothing in the penthouse matched Sebastian’s office after that.

“I want you to do it.”

Kurt stops scribbling. “Me?”

“Yeah.”

Kurt almost looks back to see if Sebastian is serious. He stares at the paper in front of him, the surface more ink than white. “Are you… are you sure? You always said that we need our separate spaces.”

“That’s only because you’re a little heavy-handed with the pastels. I trust you. Just don’t go making it all shabby chic.”

Kurt is speechless. This is the opportunity he has been waiting for their entire marriage – to decorate Sebastian’s office. Once upon a time, he saw it as the ultimate gesture of trust.

Back when he was naïve and fairly stupid.

“Don’t worry. I won’t.” Kurt debates standing up and giving Sebastian a hug or a handshake. This seems like a time that would warrant it. But when he rolls an inch to his knees, his entire body screams with pain. God, he feels old. How can he be this stiff after just half an hour?

Kurt returns to his planning. Even though he doesn’t feel prepared to leave his sanctuary, he fixes on that solid mask he’s been wearing for weeks around Sebastian. Just one more minute. One more minute, and he’ll go downstairs. He thinks he says it out loud. He expects Sebastian to go back to their room and get ready for the day, but he stays in place like a statue, watching Kurt draw, huddled over his sketchbook with his back turned to him and the door.

Kurt waits to hear the sound of footsteps retreat the way they came, but they don’t. His pencil stops above a square drawn in the corner meant to represent his stereo. He can’t continue his drawing with his husband watching, so he bites the bullet.

“Was there something else you needed?” he asks.

“They’ve… uh… got the bed in,” Sebastian says. “And the TV.”

Kurt scrunches his nose and lifts his head. What does he mean? The bed and the TV are on the moving truck. Kurt looks at his phone, resting on the floor by his knee.

“What are you talking about?” Kurt scoffs. “The movers haven’t even arrived yet. It’s only 7:15.”

“That’s right.” Sebastian speaks slowly, the way he does when he’s explaining something to Kurt that he thinks Kurt might explode over. He leans forward like he wants to come in but doesn’t without an invitation. “It is 7:15. In the evening.”

Kurt's head snaps up, eyes rolling because Sebastian is crazy.

There’s no way.

He's ready to object, but with his gaze away from his page, he notices something different about the light in the room. Instead of a soft, diffused blue, it has become a thicker yellow. Shadows stretch across the floor that weren’t there before. The room is warmer than he remembers, and the skin of his left shin, folded over his right, feels hot and irritated, like he might have gotten a sunburn.

“Evening?” Kurt shakes his head. “How can it… ? But… why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you come get me?”

“I tried. I told you when the movers arrived. I asked you what you wanted for lunch. I brought you the portable heater and put a lamp in here when it started to get dark.”

Kurt looks around. In the emptiness of the room, they’re easy to see - a plug-in heater behind him, and, in the corner of the room to the left of the door, standing straight and tall like a structural support beam, a brass lamp without a shade, filling the room with artificial light.

The first two pieces of furniture in his new studio, and Sebastian put them there.

Kurt doesn’t want them. He’d rather be cold and alone in the dark.

“We don’t have WiFi or cable yet, but I set up the Blu-ray player,” Sebastian continues. “I thought I could go get some take-out, and we could have a picnic dinner on the bed. Maybe watch a movie?”

Kurt does a 180 on his sore ass and looks at his husband (which is to say he looks at a spot over Sebastian’s head) with a mildly confused expression. He’s not really thinking about the bed or the movie or dinner at all. Even though he was hungry earlier, apparently hours earlier, he’s not hungry now. He couldn’t be less hungry. His desire to eat simply evaporated. It's been waning for weeks. Sometimes he forgets to eat until Sebastian sticks a sandwich in his face. Sebastian has become devoted to keeping Kurt's stomach full. He knows better than to comment on his weight loss, but he keeps a stock of temptable foods on hand.

He’s keeping Kurt on life support.

Sebastian stuck a spear into the heart of what they had together. Now he’s keeping Kurt alive to help him fix it.

Kurt hates that he didn’t see it that way until just now.

“Kurt? Please?”

Here’s the olive branch, Kurt thinks. He has to decide whether he’s going to take it or toss it aside.

He had promised Sebastian he’d try, and Kurt has never broken a promise to Sebastian.

No matter how much he hurts, he’s not going to start tonight.

His father always said that a man is only as good as his word.

Kurt closes his sketchbook. “Alright. I’m coming.” He tries to unfold his legs, but his knees lock up on him, and he rushes to massage the beginnings of a cramp. Sebastian looks like he’s about to spring in and help, but Kurt puts up a hand. “I’ll be a minute.”

Nodding, Sebastian takes a step back. Even with that rejection, he looks happier, more hopeful. He takes his phone out of his pocket and leaves the room. The grateful smile on his lips should fill Kurt with warmth. It used to.

But it doesn’t.

After a meal of Szechuan from a questionable establishment (not questionably clean, just questionably Chinese) and The Devil Wears Prada (a movie Sebastian swore up and down he’d never watch again), Sebastian falls asleep with his head on Kurt’s chest. And Kurt lets him, even if he himself barely gets a minute of peace.

[thebluelemontree]

Is it wrong to say that Sansa uses an out of sight out of mind coping mechanism? I noticed it because it's what I do a lot. I know some ppl say she rewrites traumatic memories to make the memories bearable but it doesn't make sense. If that was how she coped, wouldn't she have been telling herself lies about Joffrey still in acok? Or found a way to erase/rewrite Marillion's attempt to rape her?

Yes and no. She does that except all the times she doesn’t. ;) I think that characterization is extremely reductionist (and ignores character complexity and  growth) when it’s applied that broadly to every situation Sansa has been in. You have to take these things instance by instance because they aren’t all the same. Sometimes that labeling doesn’t fit at all. In many cases, it feels more like the fandom pathologizing the act of romanticizing or trying to push aside or reframe something unpleasant or even traumatic when that’s just something most human beings do now and then. Some do it more than others, but its all within the realm of typical coping behavior and being older or more educated or more “logical” doesn’t make one immune to it. So I hope you don’t let those interpretations make you feel abnormal or more fallible for identifying with Sansa in that way. Romanticizing doesn’t even have to be about coping at all, but simply expressing desire through daydreams. People imagine being in idealized scenarios with crushes all the time.  

You also hit the nail on the head. Sansa just doesn’t go around making up false narratives about every objectively awful thing that happens to her. In fact, her actual responses to those moments can be a useful basis for comparison when we’re analyzing the unkiss, for example. Misunderstanding the unkiss is usually where a lot of these assumptions stem from. That’s a whole other can of worms in itself. The unkiss is just too long of a discussion to put here, so I just recommend this post as to the reasons why it isn’t about trauma and take a browse through my unkiss tag. It does bear repeating that Sansa factually remembers every scary thing that happened during the Blackwater and why it happened, indicating she has processed it honestly and critically, before any incarnation of the unkiss happens. The unkiss is a mismemory added on to the facts, which began as her being the actor that kissed him first. It’s not a lie to deny the facts or to excuse his behavior. It’s regrettable to her that Sandor was not able to be the person she could rely on to get her out of KL at that time. Nonetheless, this repressed desire is just so strong in her that it manifested in a kiss so real she could remember how it felt after the reality of his leaving KL for good sank in. 

Early AGOT Sansa tended to want to move past unpleasantness rather quickly. Just sweep those red flags under the rug so everything can go back to blissful harmony. Sansa is naturally averse to conflict and just wants her present with the royal family to be smooth sailing into a bright future. Ned had a very similar tendency when it came to concerns over Robert’s true character. He saw things that disturbed him, but he hoped and clung to his idea of Robert anyway. For Sansa, this resulted in some misplaced blame and rewriting events so she could deal with the aftermath. This is mostly seen in her processing the Mycah incident after Lady’s death and how her perception of all the characters involved shifted in varying ways. This is after she knew perfectly well what really happened, because Ned says Sansa had already told him the truth of what Joffrey did while Arya was still missing. However, it would also be unfair to completely chalk this up to Sansa’s idiosyncrasies. We have to put her flip-flopping in the context of the situation as well. She’s also experienced a gutting loss with Lady’s death and the fact that the first blow to her innocence was her father volunteering to put Lady down. She doesn’t have Catelyn to go to with her confusion and hurt, and Ned has largely been silent. She’s also still engaged to Joffrey through all this, this is still a patriarchy, there are political ramifications to speaking against a crown prince, and she doesn’t know how to deal with seeing such cruelty and vindictiveness in her future husband. Especially when he responded to her tender concern and wanting to help him with venom and hate. 

I mean, jeez, she’s 11. I don’t expect an 11 year old to understand how to identify the signs of emotional manipulation or see how this situation can escalate into domestic violence. Just because Sansa can’t articulate what is happening within her relationship with Joffrey, doesn’t mean she has blocked out any notion that Joffrey can turn his anger on her. Part of the reason she misplaces blame on Arya (and rewrites what happened) is because Joffrey turns scornful of Sansa for being a witness to his emasculating shame. He punishes her with the cold shoulder because she didn’t immediately take his side and pretended not to see instead. He regains power through making Sansa feel small and fearful of his moods. 

“He had not spoken a word to her since the awful thing had happened, and she had not dared to speak to him.” -- Sansa II, AGOT.

Sansa looked at him and trembled, afraid that he might ignore her or, worse, turn hateful again and send her weeping from the table. -- Sansa II, AGOT.

This is coming from someone who is supposed to love her and someone she will spend the rest of her life with. To fix things, she must be unequivocally on Joffrey’s side going forward or suffer the consequences, which we can see happening as her story completely flips over breakfast sometime later. This is not saying Sansa is fully exonerated from not supporting her sister when she needed her, but that it’s understandable how she arrived at this point. Even when things start to get really bad after Ned’s arrest, Sansa still holds out some hope that she can appeal to Joffrey’s (and Cersei’s) love for her to get him to be merciful. Is it really her fault she believed a part of Joffrey really loved her (and thus was reachable by her pleas) if he also heavily love bombed her and treated her like she was the most special girl in the world? Love bombing is a classic feature of the seduction phase leading up to abuse.  

So we can see Sansa does ignore truths and rewrite events sometimes and her personality is a factor; however, the context surrounding it matters a lot. Post Ned’s execution, Sansa does a full 180 regarding Joffrey and Cersei.

Sansa stared at him, seeing him for the first time. He was wearing a padded crimson doublet patterned with lions and a cloth-of-gold cape with a high collar that framed his face. She wondered how she could ever have thought him handsome. His lips were as soft and red as the worms you found after a rain, and his eyes were vain and cruel. "I hate you," she whispered. -- Sansa VI, AGOT.

Once she had loved Prince Joffrey with all her heart, and admired and trusted his mother, the queen. They had repaid that love and trust with her father's head. Sansa would never make that mistake again. -- Sansa I, ACOK. 

"A monster," she whispered, so tremulously she could scarcely hear her own voice. "Joffrey is a monster. He lied about the butcher's boy and made Father kill my wolf. When I displease him, he has the Kingsguard beat me. He's evil and cruel, my lady, it's so. And the queen as well." -- Sansa I, ASOS. 

There’s also her conscious efforts to push away thoughts of her dead family and Jeyne Poole, but she states why she does that. It’s traumatic, the tears start flowing uncontrollably, and she is desperately trying to avoid falling into another suicidal depression. Her survival in KL depends on her holding it together and appearing loyal and obedient to Joffrey. Mourning her loved ones would imply to Joffrey she is plotting treason. Besides, she knows that even if she did ask Cersei or LF about Jeyne, she has no reason to believe they’d do anything but lie to her face in a patronizing way. There’s no point being plagued with wondering what the truth might be when she can’t do anything about it. Still, she prayed for Jeyne wherever she might be. She genuinely thought Arya had made it to WF on the ship and was safe at least until she got word of her brothers’ deaths and her home being sacked by the Iron Born, though there was initially a touch of projection and fantasizing about Arya being free while she remains captured. As of Feast, she believes she is the last Stark left alive and she has no one but Littlefinger to help her. So while she is suppressing her grief, it’s done with good reason, and it’s not being replaced with any false narratives to cope. 

We also cannot ignore that her relationship to Sandor Clegane has instilled in her an appreciation for the un-sugarcoated truth now that she has experienced betrayal and injustice first hand. In his own way, he’s encouraged her to listen to her own inner bullshit detector. The rose-tinted glasses have become a lot more clear compared to where she started. This is a newly learned skill though, and her self-confidence has been wrecked by internalized verbal abuse. She’s also been left on her own to figure out people’s intentions by herself, which runs parallel to her mounting desperation to get out of KL as Joffrey’s violence escalates. Developing a touch more of a jaded, skeptical side does sometimes clash with her enduring idealism and faith in other people (like with the Tyrells). This struggle is not a bad thing. The goal isn’t to become as cynical as the Hound, but to arrive at an earned optimism that has been tempered by wisdom and practical experience.

Her situation with Littlefinger is much more challenging than anything she faced in KL. He moves her where he wants her to go with complex web of lies, manipulation, grooming, isolation, coercion, dependence, guilt and shame. Her safety and desire to go home are tightly bound to being complicit in his lies and criminal activities. She feels indebted to him for getting her out of KL, even though his methods push her past her boundaries and force her to compromise her moral integrity. The thing is, there are things Sansa does know about LF, but she doesn’t seem to be ready to try and put the puzzle pieces together. She’s not daring to ask probing questions about Lysa’s reference to the “tears” and Jon Arryn or about the possible dangers of Maester Colemon prescribing sweetsleep for Robert’s convulsions. While the subject of Jeyne’s fate is still one she doesn’t want to revisit, somewhere in her mind she does know LF took custody of her friend. If it feels like this is somewhat of a regression back to her early AGOT self, there’s probably some truth to that; however, it’s perfectly okay for positive character arcs to be an imperfect progress. There can be relapses, regressions, setbacks, missteps, and misguided actions. All that growth isn’t lost. Everything she knows is just stored in the back of her mind, not forgotten completely. The general trend line moves her toward successfully confronting Littlefinger with the truth when GRRM is ready to pull the trigger. She’s definitely aware of Littlefinger lying to her more than she lets on and she knows his help is not out of the kindness of his heart, but motivated by what he wants her to be to him. But it’s not like she has the option to go anywhere else, does she? She’s a wanted criminal with a bounty on her head and has no other friend or ally in the Vale she can trust with the truth of her identity. Confronting LF without any means of neutralizing his power over her isn’t the smartest thing to do when he’s shown her he can literally get away with multiple murders. Again, it’s not just her personality that makes her hesitant to pull back the veil and face the horrible truth head on. The outside forces pressuring her perceptions and behavior cannot be discounted either.    

[yuusa]

𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝟔

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐𝟗𝟐𝟔

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐅𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥

𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝟔:

You squinted your eyes at the costume presented in front of you. Although they did follow your specifications, you couldn’t believe that you were actually going through with their plans. Your classmate brought up the gifted costume and you held up the outfit towards your face.

You sighed before turning to look at Yuki who had already gowned his outfit. You pressed your lips together as you stared at the frilly costume, finding yourself uncomfortable looking at him. It wasn’t that the costume was hideous, or that Yuki didn’t look good, they both don’t pair well together at all. You thought that he had it the worst when it came to handling his own fanbase.

As you looked around, the classroom was close to being done and ready to open. You excused yourself as you made your way to the back of the class where the curtain was. You silently motioned Tohru to keep a watch of the area as you quickly changed into your costume to avoid wasting any time. You were pleased to see that the material wasn’t scratching against your skin or even the color red. You slid each of the components on and clipped the necessary accessaries before pulling the curtains back, revealing your figure in its glory.

Your hair was tied back in a low ponytail, the long jacket of yours shaped to be a pair of wings that flowed with the open window breeze. It hung on your shoulders while you donned a pair of black gloves. There were many layers to this outfit and you were glad it wasn’t the middle of summer. You adjusted the cravat around your neck as you stepped out towards the center of the classroom, many of the boys swooning over your appearance while a small number of girls commented on the costume choice. The suit fitted nicely around your breasts, making you wonder about the sizing for this outfit.

“T-The perfect fit!” Someone shouted.

“This was so worth the price!”

You huffed before placing your hand on your hip, giving the audience your signature cold stare. You heard various sounds of camera flashes as you stood still for your classmates to take photos.

Yuki stood by your side almost speechless, unable to form any sort of sentence to you. The costume fitted you quite nicely and the jacket looked similar to a cape. In a way, he felt as if he was the one unable to match your appearance.

You stood tall and confidently while he cowered a bit in his costume. You were playing the part of a prince quite well as the boys begged you to roleplay a specific scene for photos. There were times that your hair slipped over your shoulder, revealing the black ribbon you used to tie your hair back. When you pulled on your glove, stared at the camera with your sharp (e/c) eyes, and called out to the audience, you were really selling the part.

Once word got out that you opened your classroom doors, there were many students flooding into the room to take photos and eat. You questioned whether or not Yuki felt overwhelmed by the amount of attention on him, but you also needed to focus on the special requests people are sending.

“Five onigiris for a special request photo! Selling five onigiris! Come get your onigiris with special photographs with Sohma-san and (L/n)-san!” Uotani announced, racking up a massive line behind the onigiri stand.

When you were going to ask Yuki about the situation, you were immediately silenced by the micro-banged fanclub president who began monitoring Yuki’s personal space. You sighed before turning away from him, not noticing the stare Yuki gave you as he frowned.

“A-Ah. . . Umm. . . (L/n)-san! Can you do a kabedon for my friend!” One classmate asked, her friend blushing immensely at her embarrassing request.

You gave her a gentle smile, “alright.”

You grabbed onto her hand and pulled her towards you as you maneuvered your body so that she would be placed against the chalkboard behind you. She gasped when you slammed your gloved hand next to her head while you towered over her shorter figure. You reached out to tilt her chin upwards so the two of you made eye contact.

“Is this alright with you, princess?” You smirked, causing the girl to feel the heat rushing to her cheeks as she squealed, her friend quickly taking photos of the moment while the rest of the boys gathered behind them. You internally groaned on the inside as you prepared yourself for a wave of requests flooding in.

“Do this pose next (L/n)-san!”

“Look over at this camera!”

“(L/n)-san you’re looking great okay!”

Tohru watched as you took every single special request, admiring your impressive acting skills as you took on every single offer. Despite straining your cheeks to smile at everyone, you were willing to put yourself through the pain if it meant selling Tohru’s onigiris.

“(Y/n)-kun and Yuki-kun are doing a good job selling our onigiris. They both look really good!” Tohru commented, to which Uotani smugly added on.

“I helped organize her costume after all.”

Tohru smiled at her, “you’re amazing Uo-chan!”

“Right?! It’s a great looking costume.” Uotani patted herself on the back.

“The rat boy has a whole complex with his face.” Kyo said, “he probably likes the attention he’s getting.”

As you were holding a girl in your arms, you noticed the presence of an unknown boy coming into the room. When you turned your head to see his appearance, he disappeared from the door. He immediately jumped onto Yuki’s back, speaking German. Who is that? You thought. 

“Momiji, Don’t wander off on your own.” A taller, much older figure came into the classroom, holding onto his coat and draping it over his arm. 

“Oh! Harry!” Momiji hooked his arms around Yuki’s neck, still attached to him. 

What you presume to be Harry walked towards Yuki, greeting him formally. You raised your eyebrow at the scene in front of you, were they part of Yuki’s family? The rest of the girls in the class swooned over their appearance, most likely drooling over the thought of other Sohmas being at their school. 

“Guten tag! I’m Sohma Momiji! I’m half-Japanese and half-German!” He wore this dark brown cowboy hat with childish clothing, he was extremely short and his voice made you believe he was only a small child, “and this is Sohma Hatori! We’re both related to Yuki and Kyo!” 

So they were his family. You wondered what was the occasion for them to actually come over considering the fact that Shigure wasn’t here. Then again, you barely knew any of the Sohmas on a personal level, probably not as much as Tohru who was gushing over an unknown thought. 

You twirled the girl around in your arms, her friends still taking photos of you and her together. She was holding onto your arm tightly as to not let go when you both had to part for the next request. You had almost forgotten you had your own job to do as the Sohmas soaked up most of the attention. 

“With that out of the way--Yuki, since when did you turn into a girl?” Hatori turned to face Yuki who was bubbling up on the inside with frustration and embarrassment. 

“You’ve seen me naked dozens of times, and you still ask me that with a straight face?” Despite his need to tell Hatori to keep quiet, he still walked over to him as Hatori whipped out a stethoscope, examining his heartbeats. “He’s a doctor. You don’t have to examine me here.” 

You pressed your lips together, if he had some sort of physical ailment, you wondered the reason behind his extreme running prowess. During Physical Education he and Kyo would often go against each other to run laps and you never had suspected he had to see a personal doctor. 

“I do because you broke your promise of coming once a month for a check-up.” Hatori clarified. 

Tohru gasped in surprise before making her way to Yuki’s side, “Sohma-kun, are you ill?” 

Hatori took off the stethoscope, “Yuki has bronchial problems. He had frequent attacks when he was younger.” 

“Are you Honda Tohru?” He asked, he later turned his attention over towards you, your eyes focused on him intensely almost stalking his every move out in the open. 

Tohru politely bowed, “yes! Pleased to meet you!” 

“I see. You really are a normal girl,” he commented, moving his eyes away from yours. 

You raised your eyebrow at his statement, was Hatori trying to imply that Tohru had something other than her blind kindness which made her unusual? You wondered what reason he had for even coming to the school at this point. It certainly doesn’t seem like he really needed to visit and examine Yuki here at the school. 

Yuki brought himself between Tohru and Hatori, separating the two of them and becoming a wall for him. The sound of a girl screaming caught the attention of the class as they all turned to Momiji who was sitting on top of the sign. 

“What are you doing you idiot?!” Kyo forcefully dragged him down from the sign and pulled him into the curtain of the backroom. Tohru turned to Yuki to excuse herself and ran over to the back. 

You frowned while watching Hatori interact with Yuki, silently trying to pick up on their conversation. 

“Why are you here?” Yuki asked.

“Take your complaints to Momiji. He brought over a festival flyer and then Akito wanted to come.” Yuki stared at him in shock as he continued, “Akito has a 39° fever, so I used my doctor veto but I end up having to come instead. Relax, I didn’t come to do anything to Honda Tohru.”

Akito? Who was that? You narrowed your eyes at the name. What exactly was Tohru hiding with the Sohma family? Is she somehow connected to them on a deeper level? You pressed your finger onto your chin as you stared off into thought, your sea of photographers still taking photos of your “cool” attitude. 

The sound of an explosion erupted in the classroom, a yellow smoke coming out of the bottom of the curtains as the students gathered around. Your eyes widened when you noticed Yuki starting to bring the attention back to him, calling himself weird as he fidgeted in his dress. You pressed your lips together in a firm line as you watched the class gather around him, clearly being distracted by him while Tohru ran off with Kyo and a yellow rabbit. You watched as the class became fascinated by Yuki’s acting and you quickly left the room to follow Tohru, Hatori’s eyes watching you closely.

You trailed behind the two when they went up towards the roof, carrying the animal up. As you reached the top of the steps, you felt the calloused hand of Hatori’s grab onto your arm, pulling you back. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked. 

You clicked your tongue before ripping your arm away from him, “shouldn’t I be asking you the same question? What is with you and Tohru-kun? What are you to her?”

“That is none of your business.” 

“So you and she do have something?” You narrowed your eyes at him. “What was that explosion then? Where did Momiji Sohma-san go? I highly doubt he was still behind that curtain.” 

You crossed your arms around your chest, creating a barrier between you and Hatori at the steps to the rooftop. “For someone who is a doctor, you sure are hiding quite a bit.” 

“For one, this doesn’t concern y-”

“You’re involving Tohru-kun, are you implying she is also part of your family? Doesn’t that make her even more suspicious now?” Hatori noticed the sharpened gaze of your eyes as you stared down at him from the top of the steps, almost like a bird of prey watching it’s food moments before it’s flight, “What are you hiding that is so important?” 

Hatori opened his mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by Yuki’s presence running up the stairs. He huffed in exhaustion before straightening his back to see you and Hatori at the stairs. You internally cringe seeing the pink and white dress contrast his appearance. 

“(L/n)-san. . . What are you doing here?” He asked.

You turned to Hatori and went back to Yuki, “are you both hiding something?” 

“Eh? What makes you say that?” He could feel himself starting to sweat underneath the dress from nervousness.

“If you’re not, I’m going up to the roof then.” Before you can turn around and walk up the stairs, Yuki grabbed a hold of your hand and dragged you back to the bottom of the stairs.

“W-Wait, I have something to talk about first.” You raised your eyebrow at the strange turn of events.

You sighed before letting Yuki take you to a secluded corner of the stairs while Hatori went up to the roof. When he had backed you against the wall, he tilted his head up to look at you. 

“A-Ah. . . Um. . .” He mumbled, trying to think of a way to not crumble underneath your intimidating glare. “I just wanted to say that. . . You did a good job today.” 

“Is that so?” You hummed, clearly displeased by the conversation topic. He noticed the lack of stutter from your voice as you dipped lower in tone, “it still doesn’t answer my question.” 

“I. . .” He bit his tongue, stressed out about the situation of how to explain everything to you without having you discover the family secret. “I’m sorry. I just can’t tell you.”

“Why?” You asked, your emotions bubbling with frustration and rage, “I thought we were friends, Yuki Sohma-san.” You sneered. 

“W-Well, we are but. . .” He trailed off. “I just. . . I can’t tell you right now.”

You grit your teeth as your anger pumped through your veins. What was it that was so special that it had to interrupt the class festival? Why involve someone like Tohru? Who are Hatori and Momiji? Who is Akito, why did they want to come? What is the connection? None of this is lining up and it was frustrating the hell out of you. 

Was this the feeling of jealousy?

You instinctively raised your hand, your irritation of the situation getting to your head, as you almost brought it towards his face but froze midway. Yuki seemed to have flinched as he saw your hand but you dropped it to your side, lifeless. The dullness and emotionless look of your eyes were shown through the dimly lit corner. 

“Whatever.” You responded, a hint of venom in your tone as you saw his eyes widen in shock. You shoved past Yuki and speed-walked towards the nearest girls' bathroom, leaving him alone in the corner of the staircase, withering away with guilt on the inside. 

You slammed the bathroom door shut, breathing heavily as you bent over the sink, taking in your reflection in the mirror. Your hair was slightly disheveled and your cravat was a bit loose. You yanked the ribbon from your hair and slammed your hand onto the sink, the material cracking slightly under the pressure.

Why were you so annoyed at this?

You bit your tongue as your mind tried to rack up every possible scenario which could have made sense. You brushed your hair back, before reaching out to your reflection. Your eyes were cold as ever, the (e/c) color doing nothing to soften the angry expression you had. Your piercing eyes glaring back at you.

It wasn’t like you and him were close from the beginning, you bitterly thought, you slid your hand down to your side, your fists tightening as your nails tried to dig through the glove material. Compared to someone like Tohru, you were nothing to him. What had happened between the two of you was simply for the sake of Tohru, it was to make her happy seeing the two of you become friends. It was just some sort of play date that was set up.

You growled in frustration as you glared at your reflection in the mirror. The exhaustion shining through your pupils. It didn’t matter in the end, you were better off forgetting about this experience and distancing yourself away from the family. You held no value to them and you wanted. . . No, you needed to accept this fact. You wiped away at the small tears forming at the corner of your eyes, concealing the sniffles as you took deep breaths.

You sighed before taking the ribbon and tying your hair back, readjusting your costume, and swinging the bathroom door open. You made your way back to the classroom, seeing the smiles of your classmates light up at the sight of you back.

“Fifteen onigiris for five special request photos! Let’s go all out!” You swung out your arms, a forced smile spread across your face as the classroom roared with excitement. Everyone quickly gathered around your form, filling the empty void from Princess Yuki with your presence.

While your heart may have hardened that day, the feeling of betrayal sinking into your bones, you wanted nothing more than to please the people around you.

[smokahuntis]

Huc

Huc

Pairing : Anakin Skywalker x Sith! Reader (part 2)

Warnings: violence, mentions of death, blood, flashbacks, angst, there will be a part 3

Summery: The Jedi council find out about (y/n)’s turn to the dark side, and trust Anakin to bring her back.

Authors note: I don’t like this chapter 🤷🏻‍♀️

Anakin dressed and left the room in a hurry, not realizing how early it was, he found Masters Kenobi, Windu, and yoda in the great hall quickly, they all sensed his unease. Kenobi was the first to speak moving towards him worriedly.

“What is it, Anakin?” He asked his young apprentice.

“It’s (y/n), she’s gone...” he said looking at them, master Windus face dropping, Anakin could practically see his heart drop at the mention of his apprentices disappearance. Yoda turned to him and hummed seeing his face.

“You know her best Master Windu, where would she have gone?” yoda asked looking at the older Jedi. Who shook his head, he blamed himself for this, he saw it coming yet he could not stop it.

“I believe she’s turned to the dark side, master.” Anakin said, causing yoda to sigh and nod, he saw it coming as well but he did not think it would be so soon. Obi-wan looked at him and sighed.

“You’re sure?” He asked concern laced his voice, as he knew what this meant.

“Tell us everything, young skywalker.” Windu said pulling himself back together as they entered the council chambers.

—

After Anakin explained everything... well mostly everything, a search for her and her master had been set out, being led by Kenobi and Anakin. They had no knew who her master could have been or how she was found by him, and Windus favorite question, what made her turn. She was always so quiet and calm, she peaceful when she wasn’t in battle. She was the perfect jedi, or at least he thought.

They’d spent weeks trying to find her and ended up coming to nothing, every thing they thought they knew, everything Anakin swore he knew, was a lie. So when the trail went cold and it seemed as tho she left the galaxy, they gave up. Finding leads with General Grievous instead, and making their way to Utapau in search for him.

Months had past since (y/n) left and they needed to move on, specially since knowing where grievous was could help find (y/n), a search Anakin secretly never gave up on. He had high hopes she would be on Utapau if things worked how he and Obi-Wan thought they were. But as they stood hidden uncle the meeting General Grievous was having she was not there, not even a sign of her.

“What should we do master?” Anakin asked quietly as they watched the meeting, General Grievous walked back and forth telling them all they would be heading to Mustafar, for safety.

“Wait till everyone leaves, we will have better chances. Then we will attack the General.” He said looking at a Anakin then back at the large group of people and droids. The meeting continued for a few more minutes and just as everyone was about to leave, standing up, they could hear a door open and everyone got back into their seats sitting with much better posture then before. Someone important entered the room and Anakin and Obi-Wan couldn’t believe their eyes.

She wore all black, with a caper flowing behind her. Her hair was much longer then he remembered and he focused on the sounds her heels made as they clicked on the floor, he couldn’t see her face but she even made Grievous stiffen up, he honestly wondered if this was really the girl he knew, if this was the girl he thought he loved.

“Darth Sirphona...” General Grievous said bowing his head slightly towards her. Once her and her guards reached his side they lowered their weapons not seeing him as a threat to her.

“General Grievous, “ she looked him up and down, the stern look that coated her face sent fear threw him. Her could tell what was about to happen, she raised her hand, shifting the force around the Generals throat. Even tho he was a droid she was choking him, slowly shutting down his mechanical being. “You failed me...” she said and he reached up grasping at nothing to try and loosen the bonds she put around him. “I asked you for one simple thing and you let it escape!” She yelled, everyone in the room radiating fear as her voice boomed.

“I-I’m sorry I was ca-caug-“ she threw him back and almost all of his droids raised their weapons at her.

“You are sorry for nothing! I asked you to bring him to me and you don’t even know where he is!” She yelled and Anakin looked at Obi-Wan

“ she’s the one who wanted the Chancellor....” he said looking his master. Obi-wan nodded in surprise, he thought he knew her, this wasn’t her.

“H-He’s strong, my lord.” He said standing back up, the droids lowering their weapons. She rolled her eyes, sensing his presence, she smiled.

“Yes... and you are about to see how strong.” She smirk and looked over her shoulder, her yellow eyes standing out like never before. “Oh Anakin, you think you can hide from me?”

It took him by surprise, him and Obi-Wan both stood jumping down onto the floor of the room, the councilors fled the room quickly to go to Mustafar. Leaving droids, General Grievous and ‘Darth Sirphona’. Obi-Wan nodded getting a small salute, he was never good in awkward situations like this.

“Hello there!” He said smiling, and giving a nod, he almost caused (y/n) to chuckle at his response, no one really caught it but Anakin, that crack in her act.

“General Kenobi...” Grievous said, the droids moving away from them understanding that Grievous wants to fight kenobi. Anakin’s eyes trailed (y/n)’s figure as he and Obi-Wan let their robes fall to the floor ready to fight. She rolled her eyes and let her cape fall to the metal floor of the room, exposing the tight black uniform she wore under it. It caught his attention more then it should have, maybe that was the point, the way the silver belt wrapped around her waist perfectly, the way the fabric wrapped around her neck but not her shoulders. She was stunning even like this, but he knew if he became distracted by this he wouldn’t make it.

“I think you know where this is going, my lord.” Grievous said looking down at her.

“Of course I do, “ she replied moving her hand out, her lightsaber flying into it from the waist of one of her guards. “But I came prepared.” She finished as the double sided blade lit up red in her hands, sparking the interest and instinct of the Jedi’s who instantly drew their weapons.

“Skywalker is mine.” She days and the fighting began, she lunged at snaking being fought of easily, he knew her attacks like the back of his hand, however he did not know her weapon. It was a red burning rod of fight coming from the small handle that she moved so skillfully.

Obi-wan got separated from Anakin as they fought skillfully against the enemy, clashing and hitting each other. Anakin didn’t even notice how far away Obi-Wan had become until he was near the edge of the over look with (y/n). (Y/n) and Anakin fought against each other like they’d been doing it their whole life, not a single his was landed onto the others skin so far, they knew how to counter act each other quickly. Knew how to break away.

“Why are you doing this?!” He said as their lightsabers met in a fit of light in front of their faces. He could see it in her eyes, the change, the fury, the power she held.

“I have the whole galaxy at my finger tips as a jedi...” she said turning quickly away from him standing away protectively. “Yet I could not have the few things I wanted...”

“And what are those?” He asked as the two slowly circled each other.

“What everybody wants, Anakin.” She said as her lightsaber met his again. “Power” and again. “Freedom” and again, this time gripping his collar, making Anakin realize where he stood. “And to be able to love without consequence...” she let go of his collar and he dropped down off the overlook. She stood over the edge watching him fall to his death, but it was in that moment something clicked in her and she jumped after him.

She watched as his lightsaber activated again stabbing threw his side as he was met with the hard grown of the pit, she landed on her feet easily, snapping her lightsaber back onto her side as she ran to him.

“Anakin!” She said kneeling beside him using a rock to prop him up, he was barley breathing and had a large wound on his side from the lightsaber, by the looks he wasn’t going to make it, but she wasn’t about to let that happen. His eyes started to fall heavy and he moved his hand to grip hers as tightly as he could. “I’m so sorry...” she said, he could almost see the yellow leave her eyes as she said it, she meant it. It reminded him of the first time she had actually hurt him in training.

“I’ve been thinking!” She said as she sat next to Anakin, her hair braided neatly as always, her white outfit clean as if it was just made.

“About?” He said smiling at her.

“What if we use the beskar staffs?” She said and he raised his eyebrows expecting something much different.

“Can you handle the beskar staffs?” He asked causing her to scoff and cross her arms looking at him.

“Can you?” She said making him chuckle.

“Let’s find out.” He said taking her hand and going to the court yard.

He grabbed an older staff that has Ancient writings on it, while hers had the markings of the Jedi, it almost shined in her small hands when she picked it up, or so he thought. They got into their passions and readied themselves.

“Don’t go easy on me, Skywalker ” she said causing him to chuckle and shake his head.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, (y/l/n)” he said and they started, rough and quick like always, it took them a second to get use to the staffs since they were much heavier then the ones they normally used. Everything was normal and fine once they knew how to handle them.

That was until she spun holding the staff out, as it would have hit his ribs if he didn’t block it, which he did. But ones the staffs hit into each other, hers lit up and blew a blast of force out cashing him to fly back against the wall. She dropped the beskar rod instantly and ran over to him falling to the floor next to him.

“Anakin! I’m so sorry... I’m so sorry...” she moved her hand pushing hair from his face, he groaned trying to sit up. She moved her hand over his chest, tearing at the robes to expose any wounds. Once they opened up showing his toned chest, it also showed rough bruising on his ribs almost instantly. She could feel her eyes water as she saw the damage she did to him.

“Anakin...” she said but didn’t get to continue because he cut her off.

“It’s fine, I know you didn’t mean it.” He said grabbing her hand the rested on his bare chest, it was the first time he’d made any real contact other then her hand. It was the first time he knew he wanted her in ways he knew he wasn’t aloud.

Her hand came to rest on the wound he held on his side. His heart raced with the fear of her next most but his eyes wouldn’t stay opened to watch it. Everything went dark.

Her hand moved over the wound and she closed her eyes trying to focus everything she could on him, every bit of the force that flowed threw her, she gave it to him. She gave him everything, knowing he would have done the same for her.

“Come on Anakin...” she said closing her eyes feeling tears leave them. He slipped further into darkness remembering his time with her while he could.

“She should be back by now...” Anakin said looking at Obi-Wan, who shook his head and looked at his Padawan.

“You have become infatuated with this girl Anakin.”

“I have not! She’s my friend, master.” He said looking at his master, just as a ship arrived, landing soundly into the docking bay.

Soon master Windu exited but not (y/n) it was the first time he had felt real worry for her, Obi-wan could sense his unease as Anakin moved towards the ship, ready to run in. But she came out, dressed in a long white dress with silver belt, her hair braided on the sides. She was stunning.

“(Y/n)...” he said running towards her picking her up in his arms.

“I’m so sorry I’m late Anakin.” She smiled hugging back looking at him, he pulled away seeing the blood on her head and ear.

“What happened?” He said moving his hand over it, the leather glove wiping away the blood.

“It’s nothing, Anakin, I’m fine.” She smiled and started walking taking him with her. “Let’s go to the med bay.” She said, and he thought.

‘I’d follow you anywhere’

(Y/n) had began to become weak because of the power she was using to heal him. She almost passed out when he finally opened his eyes and gasped for air. His eyes meeting hers in a hurry, a smile ran over his face and he grabbed hers looking at her.

“(Y/n)...” he said and she smiled before he pulled her into a kiss. He could feel everything with that kiss, the anger, the passion, everything he thought wasn’t real. Everything that he thought a jedi couldn’t feel. Everything he wanted to never end, everything being a jedi would cost him. As they pulled away from the kiss, holding each other’s faces they smiled.

Then she felt it, the pain run threw her, course threw her like a thousand lightsabers, her grip on his face became more forceful, to hold herself up. His hands wrapped around her feeling the pain as her body fell back onto the the ground of the pit. Her eyes closed and she seemed almost peaceful. Then he remembered again.

‘I’d follow you anywhere’

Tag list: @jediminddicks1000 @hxldmxdxwn @monamourani @killerkb123

[fairymadnessyeah]

Secrets in the Dark

Shigadabi week day 1

Ao3 Link

Summary: After a job well done, the party starts their journey home. But the path is tricky and the past sneaky when memories start to show their ugly face.

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Memories / Fantasy / Bittersweet 

"We'll rest here for the night," Tomura said as he watched the rest of his party drag their feet through the forest floor.

As Bounty-Hunters, their jobs were usually easy. They did what people didn't want to do. Nobody would search for a murderer or criminal and risk their life when you could hire them and let them do it for you. Nobody would go into a dungeon when they would go for the right amount of money. It didn't always go the way the client wanted, but that was their fault for trusting Bounty-Hunters.

This job was one of those examples. They had been hired to retrieve a dagger from a nearby hunted cave. The legend said it could reveal every secret someone had and, judging by the unhappy married life the lord who hired them had, he probably wanted to check if his wife had a lover. Too bad they wanted the dagger more. The quest took them two days, one to retrieve the weapon and another one to forge it.

It wouldn't be the first time they did something like this. Twice, an excellent alchemist and blacksmith, was the best at making doubles of things. The copies didn't last though, so once they were paid and started on their journey back home, the lord figured out their scheme. He sent a squadron after them, who chased them non-stop. When night fell, they had finally lost them but were too tired to continue.

"Wonderful idea, Tomura," Compress exclaims as he takes out a marble of his pocket and throws it to the ground. The marble explodes and reveals a giant tent, which they all enter.

"Ugh, I'm beat," Spinner moans and starts cracking his bones behind his scaley skin. "How far are we from Furesurbs?" he asks and collapses into the pile of cushions he slept on.

Furesurbs was the cannibal city of the continent. Only the bravest and most skilful of heroes had been able to go through it without ending dead. Or that was what the common people knew. Foresurbs was actually a lawless city. Thieves, killers, Bounty-Hunters, they all lived in peace with plenty full jobs to earn money. The hero who ever stepped foot inside was dead the moment he breathed.

"I'll track a course for tomorrow, for now just rest," he tells the others and takes out his map of the region. As a warlord, he was well-versed on many subjects. He was almost positive he was the only one who had had an education in some way. But then again, they didn't know much about Dabi or Compress.

Their group of Bounty-Hunters, The Vanguard Action, was not the usual group. If anything, their partnership shouldn't work. Why would it? A Warlord apprentice, an Alchemist with a personality disorder, a druid with a craving for blood, a known thief and con-man, a survivor from the Draco kingdom and ex-slave, a witch trapped in a man's body and a cursed runaway arsonist. Their teamwork should have been a disaster, a failure.

Yet, somehow, after half a year of travelling together, they had become such a tight group that Tomura was sure his Sensei would be disappointed of his attachment. But in an unlikely moment, the young warlock didn't care. His Sensei's approval and pride should be his drive, his greatest achievement. But his party -his friends- they meant the world to him, and he would make sure that when his time to rise came, they would get everything they wanted.

And bizarrely, he knew the feeling was mutual. From the hundreds of times they had had his back, to the quiet nights they spent comforting each other; Tomura knew his party would be there for him when it mattered. Magne, Toga and Twice repeatedly told him so, Compress, Spinner and Dabi showed it with their actions. They all said he had brought them together, that he had saved them in some way or another. That they were a family and they wouldn't let anybody come between them and their happiness.

Thought this journey would put that trust to the test.

"Stop playing with that, Crazy, it's not a toy!" Tomura was distracted from his routing by the disturbance. Toga and Twice were testing out the new dagger, passing it between them and asking questions, to which the dagger would burn if the one holding it lied. Magne was cooking while Compress and Spinner were sleeping, but were distracted by the mess.

Dabi, the one who scolded the two fools playing with the ancient and powerful tool, was up from his own nap and trying to get the dagger from the girl. "No! Wait for your turn! I'm using it now!" Toga threw her tantrum and tried to keep the artefact away from the older man.

"Yeah, don't be a party pooper, Dabi!  You trying to hide something, cursed boy!? " Twice said as he helped Toga.

The three entered a tug war, with Dabi trying to get the dagger and Toga and Twice trying to keep it to continue their game. The rest of the party soon lost interest in the usual shenanigans. It was a daily occurrence that the three would argue like siblings, and they went back to what they were doing previously. That changed when Dabi screamed. The dagger clattered against the floor as the arsonist held his bleeding arm close and cursed out loud in pain. They tried to get close to him and aid him with his injury, but he stepped away and told them he was alright before stomping out of the tent. He was probably going to his horse, Licen.

"Good job, you morons," Spinner tells them once Dabi is not in the tent. "Now he is going to be even more cranky," the lizard-looking man complains.

"Don't worry, once Dabi gets some sleep and food, he'll be as happy as he can be," Magne tells Spinner and stirs the stew she is preparing. "But you two better apologize and stop playing with that thing. Dabi is right, it's not a toy," she turns to the two blondes and scolds them.

"Yes, Big Sis Mag... Why don't you make me, Old Hag!?" Twice says.

Toga, however, doesn't. She is staring at the dagger with rapt attention and holding the blade in her hand. "Hey Tomu, what does Blue blood mean?" the youngest member of their group asks him out of nowhere.

"Usually it means the person is part of a noble family," he answers her. Toga always asked him stuff out of nowhere. She had lived away from cities and society for most of her life, and she didn't understand most of the new world that surrounded her. "Why are you asking?"

"That's the blood that came out of Dabi," she tells him and shows him the blade of the dagger. It wasn't a lot, but the small amount of liquid the blade had was blue-purplish colour. 

"That's impossible," Spinner comments about the implication of the blood. "Dabi hates royals and nobles more than any of us," he argues. And he was right. Even if rich families were the largest source of income for the lawless, there was no Hunter or Thief alive who didn't hate the higher society. Dabi did so with a passion and never stayed quiet about it. He could look past a lord or count that were in the rich inner circle of the kingdomes, but royals were a pest in his eyes. Tomura had noticed the small chain he had with stolen Royal rings the hunter had collected over the years. To think that somebody like that came from a noble family was ridiculous. Unthinkable even. 

"Can't it be that since he is cursed, his blood is blue now?" Compress cuts in.

"No, cursed blood is purple," he tells them. "Maybe he is a bastard from a noble family, or the descendant from a dead royal house. But it is none of our business, now is it?" he asks the rest of the tent, with a clear hint of dropping the matter.

It works though, and they all go back to their tasks. Magne gets help with dinner by Twice, and Toga cleans the dagger and places it in a scabbard that doesn't fit it. When they get to Furesurbs, they can have one made. The tent is plagued with silence until Magne announces it's dinner time. Dabi still hasn't come back by that time. Tomura is not worried. If Dabi wants to be a gloom and be alone, that's his problem. He doesn't need the fire user. Even if he is a great source of heat in cold nights.

When they finish dinner and Dabi still hasn't appeared, Tomura has had enough. While the others build a fire to keep warm, he takes his hooded cape and goes looking for him. Their camp is hidden between the plants of the forest they were in. Licen was still here, but the mare also had the heart of an apple at its feet. Dabi spoiled his horse like no other, always giving her an apple even if it meant hunger for him. Licen in exchange was the most loyal horse there could be, even if she was a stubborn mare that only let a few ride on her. So if she was still here, Dabi couldn't have gone far.

Tomura found him a few feet away from the camp, near a stream. Dabi was a sight to behold. He had patches of healthy skin but most of his body was covered in deep purple scales. His curse was slowly turning him into a monster. When he lost control, the scales would start to take over his body, covering more skin, and he would become more animalistic. It scared the crap out of them the first time it happened.

They had come to a crossroad with another group. The party of teenagers because, yes, they were a bunch of teenagers along with an alchemist knight and they had unfortunately been after the same target. They were both looking for the golden scabbard of All Might's famous sword. They wanted it for the money, but the kids needed it to unlock something, they were in a quest with pointless ideals of heroism. They had ended up clashing, and Dabi lost control, though he wasn't the only one. He was in battle against The half cursed prince, Todoroki Shouto, and as the fight grew heated, both men turned into monsters. Both groups had to separate them by force before they killed one another. Dabi didn't speak for two days after that, and they didn't get the scabbard.

However, curse and all, Tomura couldn't help but find the hunter mesmerizing. It was like he was made to distract him. His strong jaw, his deep hoarse voice, his dry humour and his eyes. Oh Divus, his eyes. Tomura could drown in them. Deep, bright blue orbs that he could stare at and get lost in at any time. Even now, in a dark moonless night, he could still see them. It infuriated him.

"Did you come here to stare, creep?" Dabi asks him, turning to see him.

"You missed dinner," he tells him and sees the other roll his eyes at him. "Let me look at your wound," he orders him.

"It's fine, I cauterized with my magic," he says but still holds his hand to him.

The wound is not deep, but it's large, it starts at the bottom of his finger and ends in the middle of his forearm, cutting through the purple scales. With a simple chant, his hand lights up in a red hue, and he starts healing the hunter. He can feel Dabi's eyes on him. Those blue gems piercing his being and somehow looking into his soul. He didn't know how, but Dabi was one of the people who were able to read him like an open book.

"Stop that," he tells him as he heals him.

"Stop what?"

"You know what..."

His relationship with Dabi was weird. Sometimes he wanted to kill him. The hunter loved to rile him up. He was lazy and disrespectful. He would attract trouble wherever he went. He could count the times they had been persecuted out of an area because of the messes him, Spinner and Twice had gotten in. However, he trusted him with his life.

If something happened, he knew Dabi would be there. He was his right-hand man. He could leave the Vanguard Action with him without worrying things would collapse the moment he left. Dabi and him on some late nights, when neither of them could sleep, would be there for each other. Tomura had told the arsonist secrets he didn't even share with Kurogiri. And Dabi had told him things none of the other league members knew. They had bonded in some sort of way.

And sometimes, even when the raven was just a few centimetres apart from him, he wanted to be closer. Tomura was not afraid to say he finds the hunter attractive, scales and all. He was as hot as a fireplace and as a warlock, whose dark powers sucked all the warmth from inside him, he had many times cosied up to the fire-user to get warmed up. All of the party had. There were times he would see couples on the road and imagine it's him and Dabi. There was also the dream accident.

A few months ago Magne convinced him in trying her new sleeping potion. They had just come from a good-paying job, so using the free time they had, he accepted. The concoction was supposed to trap him in a dream for a few hours and rest his mind and body. Tomura tried it, following Magne's instruction and soon enough fell asleep. When he opened his eyes, he could tell he was not awake. The first indication was the changing background. The second hint was Dabi entering the room and kissing him without a hesitation. In that two hour nap, Tomura was caressed, worshipped and loved by Dabi. But even if it was a dream, it felt so real. When he woke up, he couldn't look at the hunter without remembering his dream. He avoided Dabi for an entire day. He still felt awkward about it.

"There, done," he tells him and quickly takes a step back from the raven. "Now come to the tent, we have a long journey tomorrow, and your food is getting cold," he turns, giving his back to his party-member, but stops when he hears the other speak.

"You're not going to say anything? About the blood?" he sounds... nervous, which is very offputting, since this is Dabi who's talking. He always talks in a monotone, leaving people guessing what he meant by his tone.

"It's none of my business," he responds. "We all have our secrets, Dabi. If you ever want to tell me, I'll listen," he heads back to the tent and hears Dabi silently walking behind him.

The rest of the party is already in their bedrolls when they arrive. They aren't asleep, just laying comfortably around the small fire. Dabi sits in between Toga and Compress and starts eating his bowl of stew. Shigaraki goes back to his maps and tracing a road, idle chatter fill the tent as they all get ready for bed, but Tomura interrupts all of that.

"We have a minor inconvenience," he announces, and they all turn their attention towards him. "If we take the easy road, it might take us a while to get to Furesurbs. But we can cut that time to three days if we don't avoid some of the more dangerous areas,"

"What areas?" Dabi asks.

"For the first day of the journey, we have options. We are surrounded by three of the most magic-hated cities, Servusurbs, Magumless and Torquecastra. If we want to avoid them, we need to go around them, but that is going to add three days to our travels. Though we could go through the Aurum Mountains, using the mines. Although I doubt we'll find a way past it without help, and that is going to cost us a lot of money," he explains.

The rest of the group is pensive for a moment. Torquecastra is a fortress, getting in they might be able to achieve, but getting out is going to be tricky. Servusurbs would be easier to get in and out, thanks to their slave business, but Spinner was not going to set foot in that place again. That left only Magumless, but the place was very strict with their magic laws. All those who possessed magical abilities had to be collared and sorted by colour, and they could only enter if they had an escort.

"I know a way we can get through Magumless," Compress says. "There are underground tunnels we can go through, used for smuggling magic-ingredients in. If Dabi doesn't show off his flames and Magne hides her potions, we would have enough escorts to get to them," he explains and looks at the ones who would have to get chained along with him, Toga and Shigaraki. They all nod, agreeing to the plan.

"What about the second day?" Magne asks.

"We have two options if we don't want to spend another three days travelling, Libidine forest or the Erat fields," Tomura explains and watches everyone groan.

Libidine forest was a death trap. The place was plagued with Succubuses and Incubusses and it was theorized to be sacred ground for them. If they caught you, you were either sacrificed or used as breeding stock. They would have to be on high alert if they went there, but that wouldn't mean they would make it out.

The Erat fields were the same. A spell was cast in the form of a mist on the place that created illusions to confuse travellers. Going alone was a sure death, but since they were a group, they might just make it. They would just have to keep each other grounded.

"What about the Nix mountain range? It would be a day more, but better than any of the other options," Dabi says.

"We are not prepared to spend two days in a frozen hell," he explains. "And it's wyvern season," Dabi grunts at his logic. "Erat is our safest option," they all nod, agreeing with him.

 --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 The next day of their journey went well, luckily.

They arrived in pairs to the city, and once they were registered and inside, they would meet in an arranged location. Magne and Compress went first, then Toga and Twice and lastly, Tomura with Dabi and Spinner. The city of Magumless had a metal system to identified magic. Steel collars meant useful harmless magic, bronze was useful harmful magic, gold was useless harmless magic, silver was useless harmful magic, and black iron was dangerous magic. Tomura was collared with one of the laters.

They almost arrest him when he entered the city after the collaring. But Dabi, whose clothes covered his scales, stopped them, lying about a life debt he owed him. The guards luckily left them alone after that. Spinner, who was acting as his stead for the day, might have a lot to do with that. Nobody would come in between a man with a warlock and a giant lizard monster at his beck and call. Once they reunited, the trip went on smoothly. They weren't able to take out the chains until they reached the other end of the city, but below the city, they didn't have to be on constant alert.

By nightfall, they were all out of the town and camping by the side of the road. It took them another day to get to the Erat fields. They decided to wait for the next day to cross it and camped a few meters away from it. The next morning, they all woke up already dreading the journey before them.

"So what exactly are the fields going to do?" Spinner asks in his big lizard form asks as he carries Tomura, Twice and Magne. "I know it's supposed to be illusions, but what kind? Monsters? Or something like that?"

"The stories vary," Compress answers by his side, riding a magic-made horse Tomura conjured, Toga behind him. "Some say you see your past, your happiest moments, and you desire to go back keeps you in here. Others say you become delirious. You turn into a future of yourself that may never happen and get trapped inside the fantasy," As theatrical Mister Compress was, he was right. The stories were told by those who were able to survive the fields, and the only consistent theme in their tales was that they would never go back to it.

They soon got their answer, though. Magne suddenly let out a scream, scaring all of them and making some of them unsheath their swords. Luckily it was a false alarm. Magne just panicked because out of nowhere it looked as if she had been burned to death. When Shigaraki had met her, she was in Furesurbs running away from her family of witches. They didn't accept her as herself and gave her an ultimatum, be normal or die. She ran away and joined them.

One by one, they all changed. Twice suddenly looked like a teacher -(he was once offered to teach at the university of Libriratum, but he refused)-, Toga turned more druid-like (she had been raised by druids, but got kicked out when they didn't approve of her magic), chains and whip welts appeared on Spinner (he had been sold and bought as a slave until Tomura saved him), and Compress looked like he had been hanged (he had escaped from prison before they were able to do it). Tomura didn't change much. Instead of looking like a warlock in his black clothing and magical jewellery, he looked like a farmboy. His shirt turned rough and scratchy and his hair, which was a platinum and identified him as a Master of the Dark Arts, changed into its original black colour. Toga also complained about his smell, but she was the only one who noticed. Dabi was the last one to change. And boy, were they not ready...

The first hint they had that he changed was the metallic clangs and Twice's gasp. When they turned to look at Dabi, the person they knew was gone. Their cursed leather-wearing hunter with a hot temper and a cold stare was nowhere in sight. Instead of him, the dead prince of the Flame Kingdom rode beside them in his stead.

Golden armour on his legs, a white silk cape with golden trims flailing on his back, a blue regal vest with King Enji's emblem, his skin clear out of any scale, red hair sweeping with the wind and adorned with a golden crown encrusted with gems. Even his horse had a golden armour and a brand new leather seat. His crossbow was gone, as well as everything else and only his sword remained by his side. The only reason they knew it was Dabi was because of his eyes. The same blue as they ever been.

None of them dares to utter a word. They just stared at their friend as they walked. It was so weird to see the man so adorned and wearing so much expensive stuff. Especially since this was Dabi. The guy who had spent an entire job without a shirt because he wanted to cut expenses to afford some more food for his horse. He didn't cover up until Tomura bought him a new shirt.

"Stop. Staring." said guy says after a while, his eyes never leaving the path ahead. His request fell on deaf ears though. He sighs frustrated at his peers gaze. "You can ask one question each. After that we don't speak of this. Ever. Again." he grunts.

"Aren't you supposed to be dead? A GHOST!?" Twice exclaims with his usual tact.

"I never died, I just faked it and ran away," Dabi tells them.

"Why? You were living in a castle, with servants, freshwater and food and everything you could ask for, why give that up?" Spinner ask.

"I don't need much to be happy," Dabi shrugs. "'Sides, being king wasn't worth the price,"

"Do you have one of those lovely royal rings?" Compress suddenly asks, staring at his new attire with interest.

"I do. You take it, and I will cut off your fingers and feed it to Toga," Dabi warns, and it's enough to ward off the old thief.

"My turn! My turn!" Toga exclaims happily. "Let's see... Oh, were you ever betrothed?" she smiles and Tomura feels his blood heating up.

"Twice," Dabi answer with a grimace. "First to a princess who died before I could ever see her and then to the daughter of my fathers' army general as a prize after their last campaign," Tomura doesn't like this question.

"Don't you miss your family?" Magne asks softly.

"Sometimes, but they seem to be alright without me..." he answers surely remembering the last time he was his brother.

'His brother... the half cursed prince...' Tomura remembers, and his gears start turning in his head. It couldn't be a coincidence that they both were cursed. The two princes of the same kingdom, of the same family, supposed to inherit the same land? It didn't sound natural. Curses were like a string they had a start and an end, but they were also personal. Only a person could be cursed. Objects or other things could be blessed or damned, but curses were the result of a human. But who could have done that?

He had lived in the Flame kingdom for a while, and even if he didn't, it was no secret how much the people loved the heirs of the Royal family. The four siblings were praised for their selflessness, kindness and compassion. Princess Fuyumi taught how to read outside the palace to whoever passed by. Prince Natsuo was a diplomat who had given the people of their kingdom lower taxes. Prince Shouto was a brave warrior and a gentle soul. And Prince Touya, Dabi, he had had the closest relationship with the people. He was known as the Free Prince before his death. Always running from his duties and spending time with the peasants outside the castle. The kingdom had mourned his death for months. They had expected a great ruler from him, even greater than... the current... king...

"Was the king the one who cursed you?" Tomura asks, hoping to be wrong.

"Yes, he did,"

 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 They all turned back to normal once they were out of the field. They took a moment to rest after it, the experience draining them all. None of them had a past worth going back to, so being reminded of everything they had run away from or escaped had hit them quite strongly.

They didn't stay there for long though, and soon enough they were at Furesurbs. Toga, Twice and Magne decided to go to Kurogiri's bar to unwind when they arrived while the rest of them went to their quarters. Being Sensei's apprentice, Tomura had been able to afford a big enough place for all of his party. They were near the bar where they got their jobs, and they were able to guard each other's back while in there. Their line of work gave them more enemies than friends, and they were stronger united than separated. Not to mention it was cheaper than any other inn or place they could rent.

Dabi was laying in his bed, unable to fall asleep when he heard a small knocking in his door. Believing it was one of his drunk partners, he ignored it. They would get tired soon enough and leave. He wasn't feeling up to being with anybody at the moment. But when the knocking came again, he figured whoever was doing it wouldn't stop until he opened the door. He gets up with a groan and opens the door, ready to send whoever it was away, but his words die in his mouth when he sees who it is. On his door is his leader, Shigaraki Tomura, with a crazed look in his eyes and a scratched up neck.

The guy doesn't even wait for him to let him in he just pushes him to the side and gets in. He is only wearing a loose pair of black pants and a black shirt with a simple pair of boots. His silver hair is messed up, and he is mumbling in a low voice.

"Tell me more about your curse," he demands once Dabi closes the door.

"...What?"

"Your curse, how does it work!?" he asks again.

"Why the sudden curiosity?" Tomura had never inquired about his curse. Ever. So what could have changed?

"How does it work, Dabi? Don't make this more difficult!" he goes off again, the scratching getting worse.

"No," Dabi crosses his arms. "Why do you want to know? Do you think once I'm cured you can use me to take over the kingdom? You want to use me for your world domination!?"

"JUST TELL ME, DAMNIT!" the warlock screams.

"TELL ME WHY!?"

"I DON'T WANT YOU TO DIE!" Tomura finally snaps at him, leaving Dabi speechless. "Curses usually end in death! You can't avoid it! You either finish it, or  it  finishes you! Now tell me everything you know about it so I can try to stop it!"

Dabi is quiet for a few minutes as Tomura hyperventilates after his rant. "... you can't," Dabi breathes. He had given up a long time ago. "The curse is the missing half of my brothers. One day we will turn into monsters and kill each other for the throne. Once my brother is crowned king, the curse should be broken-"

"It won't work," Tomura interrupts him. "Curses are conditional, if your brother wants to be king, he needs to fight you," the warlock tells him. Dabi feels as if he was shot through the heart when he says it. He falls to his bed defeated and stares at nothing.

"It won't happen," he hears Tomura mumble under his breath as he walks to the door. "You might have given up on it, but I won't. I will find you a cure, and I'm going to remove that curse from you," he tells him and flees the room, leaving an ex-prince behind with a heart that won't stop beating, as if trying to jump out of his chest.

[notapaladin]

oh you take all of the pain away (redux)

Because I am the only person writing Obsblood fics, I wind up rereading them a lot to get my fandom fix!...so I notice when I can definitely do much better with an older concept. This is The One Where Acatl Has Nightmares, But Better.

Also on AO3

Older version here.

-

The shadows on the wall were taunting him. Acatl closed his eyes again, but it didn’t help.

This is ridiculous.

“Mmm,” Teomitl murmured into his ear. “I can hear you thinking.”

That was also ridiculous, but oddly endearing. He huffed out a breath and shifted back to curl more fully against Teomitl’s lean, well-muscled chest, enjoying the warmth of his skin for a moment before it occurred to him that if he could still feel said warmth, something was definitely wrong. Namely, that he was still awake, and it was far past sundown. “Mrrrgghhh...”

Teomitl’s arms tightened around him, and a soft nose pressed into the curve of his shoulder. He was being cuddled like a child’s favorite toy, and if he hadn’t been so irked by his continued state of wakefulness he would have smiled. His lover could really be terribly sweet sometimes, even when his speaking breath tickled. “Go t’ sleep.”

He unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth to grumble, “I am trying.” There wasn’t any heat in it. He was far, far too tired for that. After the night they’d had, where Teomitl had slipped into his courtyard at sunset and proceeded to very thoroughly make up for the time they’d spent apart in pursuit of the loose threads to a particularly nasty haunting case, every muscle in his body felt like half-melted rubber. He ought to be sleeping like a corpse. He was almost too tired to think.

And his body refused to quiet down. He rolled onto his stomach, burying his face into his arms with a grunt; it was an action that took him out of Teomitl’s arms, generally something he regretted, but cutting out distractions—and Teomitl was certainly a distraction, half-asleep and so wonderfully warm—sometimes helped him sleep. Not always, but sometimes.

Besides, it wasn’t like his lover was going anywhere. A hand smoothed down his spine, gently shifting his hair off his back, and he let out a long sigh. Maybe if he just lay here, he could become one with the mat.

There was another soft mumble behind him. “Night.”

He hummed in acknowledgment. Good night, love.

In the cool, still darkness, Teomitl’s presence a bulwark at his back, with no sound save for their steady breathing and the measured thumping of their heartbeats, he slowly felt himself fall.

And fall.

And fall.

Down and down and down...

Only to land on his knees with a shock like a distant blow. The ground was cold and hard under him, and strangely lumpy; as he got to his feet, he saw why.

It was not dirt, nor carved tiles, but hard-packed bones made of gold and jade. He touched a fallen clavicle. It was slippery. Feeling disconnected from his own skin, he picked it up and turned it over in his fingers as he walked. Teomitl fidgeted with things like that, too—not bones, but rocks and sticks and whatever he happened to be holding. He said it helped him focus.

It didn’t help Acatl focus. He walked through the Sacred Precinct, but it was a Sacred Precinct unlike any he had ever seen before. Beautiful, shining, with gold plating every temple wall and turquoise set into the very steps of the pyramids—but empty. There was no sound, not even his own footsteps. A river of blood flowed down the steps of the Great Temple to collect in a pool at its base, but even that made no sound. There were no priests chanting hymns, no commoners offering penance. He was alone.

Alone...

No. Not alone. Teomitl was here somewhere, he knew it. He couldn’t hear that familiar, impatient tread, but he knew it was just ahead of him, that if he ran faster or called out his lover’s name he would be there and—

And—

He opened his mouth. He closed his mouth. What good would calling out do?

He turned the corner and entered the palace gates, and the first sounds he heard fell like hammers on his ears, for all that they were the thin, chattering-infant voices of ahuitzotls.

“All hail...”

“...our great Revered Speaker...”

“Drowning, drowned, all are drowned...”

The courtyards were not empty. He thought he would have preferred it if they were. No, they were filled with ahuitzotls on their hind legs, dressed in the feathers and gems of nobility, and all chattering amongst themselves. As he walked past them, they stopped to watch him go. His skin crawled. He knew better than to run.

“...They cast the reeds...”

There was a particularly large one blocking his path through a doorway. As he edged around it, it met his eyes. “He is our Emperor,” it hissed. “Not yours.”

Ice flooded his veins. He opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came out.

He kept walking, and the palace changed around him. Now the frescoes were set with gems, now hammered gold had been set into them to accentuate the eyes of the gods that were, he felt, definitely not watching. Under his bare feet—when had he removed his sandals?—the floor grew warm and slick in a way he recognized far too well. Fresh blood. Another river. No. Another lake, mirroring the one on which Tenochtitlan lay.

The doorway in front of him stood wide, and he knew what he would see when he walked in. He didn’t want to. Duality preserve him, the last thing he wanted was to walk through that door.

His legs carried him forward anyway, and when his gaze adjusted to the brightness he choked back a noise that wanted to be a sob.

Teomitl had gotten there ahead of him, and was sprawled negligently on the throne with a bloody macuahuitl in his hand. The blood was deeper here, lapping at his calves and Teomitl’s sandaled feet, and his lover looked...bored. No, not bored. Vacant. There was gold on his arms and fingers, turquoise at his lip and ankles, and his face was as expressionless as a doll’s. Fear stopped Acatl’s throat.

Before he knew it, he was wading towards him. The blood parted like humid air. “Teomitl!”

Teomitl lifted his eyes. There was no hint of recognition in them. “We do not give you leave to call Us by that name, priest.”

“Teomitl—it’s me—”

His next step went through nothing at all, and the world was filled with blood-tinged saltwater. Teomitl’s throne cracked and broke apart as he watched, sending him tumbling through the depths an arms’ length away. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t move.

Terrified, he opened his mouth to call Teomitl’s name again, but water rushed in to fill his lungs instead of air, and he thrashed desperately. Knowing there was no use in calling for Lord Death, the words of a prayer nevertheless drummed through his head. Though it be jade, it is crushed, though it be gold, it is tarnished. Only for a little while do we have the feathers, the jade, before it must come to Your embrace...

The voice of his patron rang through the water. “No.”

He froze, floating suspended in the current. My Lord?

Mictlantecuhtli wasn’t there. Not physically, at any rate; even in a dream, Acatl knew he’d feel it if he was in Lord Death’s presence. But even so, He was suddenly sitting on His skeletal throne, gazing dispassionately down at them both through a curtain of blood, and Acatl felt his heart quail in his chest as He spoke again. “He must die. Such is the way of the world.”

No! Desperate, he lunged through the water. Yes, of course one day Teomitl would die, as all men did, but not like this. Not when he was young and strong and beautiful, not when he hadn’t completed what he’d set out to do. He should die at a great age surrounded by his loving grandchildren, not choked to bursting with the waters of his own lake. Acatl couldn’t let him.

“Why do you struggle? You know you cannot stop this.”

That was right. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t even try. He was the High Priest of the Dead, wasn’t he? It was not for him to interfere. Maybe Teomitl had even been meant to die of the plague. Maybe he should have left him there. Maybe, when Teomitl had spat out the words of his heart—red up to his ears, not looking at him, fingers white-knuckled in the folds of his cape—he should have turned them aside and continued on the solitary and cold and lonely path set out for him.

Now, for the first time, Teomitl was looking at him as though he knew him, and his eyes were wide with panic. A flailing hand reached for him—their fingers were close enough to touch—but when it encountered his skin, it slipped through as though he was already a ghost. “Acatl!”

He couldn’t respond. Blood and water filled his mouth. I’m sorry. I love you.

Eyes wide open, he watched Teomitl sink into the darkness.

“Acatl-tzin!?”

Everything was dark. His limbs refused to obey him.

Something shook him, hard. A voice he knew as well as his own snapped in a note of panic, “Wake up!”

All at once, it was like a spell had been broken. His eyes shot open, and the tension coiling through his paralyzed limbs finally resolved itself in a jolt that had him sitting up and staring into space. His heart was hammering fit to escape his ribcage, and each breath burned. When he felt wetness on his face, he realized he’d been crying. “Hah,” he managed, aware now that Teomitl was staring at him. He couldn’t turn to face him. He couldn’t bear to.

Teomitl’s grip on his shoulder was tight enough to bruise, but the look in his eyes was wide and soft and frightened. Frightened for him, he realized. “Acatl...?”

“Just a dream.” He sucked in a breath. His chest still hurt, and it was hard to breathe through the horrible congested feeling of too many tears. That’s right. It was just a dream. It wasn’t real. Wherever my soul wandered in my sleep, I’m here now. This...this mat under me, these four walls around me, this is real. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“I was awake. Ish.” Teomitl made a quiet grumbling noise, and Acatl immediately felt much worse. Of course Teomitl had been easy to rouse; as swiftly as he dropped off to sleep, he’d always struggled to stay that way, and what sleep he did get was all too frequently disturbed by nightmares. He’d sworn that Acatl’s presence helped, but...well. It clearly hadn’t tonight. “How do you feel?”

Acatl grimaced, staring down at his hands. If he balled them into fists, they didn’t tremble so badly. “I’m fine,” he lied. It would be true eventually.

Teomitl saw through him in an instant, as always. And, as always, he had no patience for it. Gaze focusing into a sharp glare, he snapped, “You are not, you’re shaking. I’ve never seen you have a nightmare like that before.”

He focused on his breathing. In. Out. In again. Slowly, his heart started to calm, and the residue of that sick terror started to drain out. “...I’m...” But he couldn’t finish the lie.

Seeming to come to a decision, Teomitl let go of Acatl’s shoulder to cover his hand instead. It was shockingly gentle for a moment; at first Acatl almost couldn’t process it, but then it sank in. The warmth of his lover’s skin, the smooth calluses from his swordwork, the faint raised scar across his palm. “No. You were crying in your sleep.”

He closed his eyes briefly. No, that wasn’t a good idea. He could still see the ahuitzotls when he blinked, could still see the specter of his lord telling him to let Teomitl die. I couldn’t. I can’t. I won’t. He opened his eyes again, and this time he looked at Teomitl. His beloved looked drowsy, moonlight shrouding his features, but he could make out a hard, stubborn set to his mouth that he knew very well; it said that Teomitl knew what Acatl was doing, and he didn’t appreciate it. And Acatl had promised him honesty. Reluctantly, he nodded. “Mm.”

Teomitl gave his hand a gentle squeeze, but his voice was firm. “You should talk about it. It’ll help. Isn’t that what Mihmatini always tells us?”

He didn’t want to talk about it. Gods, that was the last thing he wanted. Maybe if he said nothing, thought about everything else under the sun, it would go away. But...

But Mihmatini had been right, when she’d told them that. And it had helped. Exposing the deepest feelings of his heart had gotten Teomitl to lay down his sword, had turned them from teacher and student to friends and then to lovers. He couldn’t deny him when he asked to be trusted with this, even as he dug a penitential nail into the soft skin of his own thigh. I cannot believe it is right for me to tear myself from him, O Lord. Not from the man who had upended Acatl’s lonely life and built a space for himself in it with nothing but dogged persistence and a radiant smile. “...You won’t take no for an answer, will you?”

Ah. Perhaps he’d been a bit curt, because Teomitl looked stung. “I would. You know that. But if it disturbs your sleep—if wherever your soul has wandered has hurt you—then I want to know about it.”

“So you can kill it?” Acatl quipped, half-serious. Granted, he wouldn’t put it past him...but still.

“Hrmph,” Teomitl muttered. “If I can, yes.”

Oh, my love. He exhaled. “...Alright, then.”

But saying he’d tell his lover about it and actually making his mouth form the words were two different things, and for a long moment he couldn’t figure out where to begin. Finally, with Teomitl’s thumb making little circles over his knuckles, he started to speak. “I was in the Sacred Precinct, alone, but I knew you were there somewhere.” Every surface gold, and all those rivers of blood, and me in the middle of it thinking only of you. “The palace was full of ahuitzotls dressed as noblemen and warriors, all praising you. All calling you their savior. One told me that you were their Emperor, and not mine.”

Teomitl growled quietly, sounding like an ahuitzotl himself. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I know that now,” he huffed. “But...”

He trailed off. He couldn’t continue. Teomitl’s fingers tightened on his. “But?”

“I saw you in the throne room, the Turquoise-and-Gold Crown on your head, and you didn’t know me.” Underneath Teomitl’s firm grip, his hand clenched into a fist. “You looked at me like a stranger.”

Teomitl wasn’t looking at him like a stranger now. He was, in fact, looking more than a bit disturbed. “I could never. Do you think I could forget who you are to me?”

He shook his head. “I know.” There had been a time, when the plague was threatening them and Chalchiuhnenetl was breathing poison into Teomitl’s heart, that he’d been afraid of that exact thing. Now that he was awake again, with Teomitl’s hand on top of his, he had to agree with him. The whole thing was ridiculous. Ahuitzotls didn’t talk, and Teomitl made no secret whatsoever of his feelings for him. They’d go back to sleep, and it would all look better in the morning.

“He must die. Such is the way of the world.”

He nearly choked on his own breath. My Lord wasn’t there, he reminded himself firmly. That was only a nightmare. I’m doing nothing against His will by loving Teomitl, and I won’t stand idly by while he dies.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he said automatically.

Teomitl’s eyes hardened. “Acatl. You’re shaking like a leaf.”

He was. When had that started? He took one deep breath and then another, reaching for Mictlan’s presence within him. Cold despair pulsed through his veins, forcing him to swallow past a lump in his throat, but at least he wasn’t trembling. The words came slowly, pulled through his lips by a copper fishhook that tore skin on the way out. “...I dreamed that I saw Lord Death. And he told me...we were both drowning in blood and lake water, and he told me to let you die. You knew me then. You reached for me. And I froze.”

“Acatl,” Teomitl breathed.

“And then I woke up,” he snapped. All of a sudden he was angry—with himself for being such a fool, with his soul for wandering free in places he should have thought it would know better than to go, with Teomitl for cracking the stone walls around his heart. “I woke up, and I realized it was a dream, and I am fine. Lord Death has said nothing against us. There’s no need to concern ourselves with my nightmares!”

“There is when the man I love wakes weeping next to me! Do you think I can ignore that? Do you think I would ignore that?” Teomitl made an angry stabbing gesture with his free hand, the one not clinging to Acatl’s like a lifeline. “I don’t care what your nightmares say. I know perfectly well you serve the gods with all your heart, but you’re still you. You carried me to safety when I had the plague, when I was being a complete bastard to you. You wouldn’t let me drown even if Mictlantecuhtli stood in front of you and ordered it.”

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. I might. Duality help me, if I ever had to make that choice...I might. He didn’t think he would. He knew that it would tear him in two if he did, that his heart would never be the same, that Lord Death who was always fair wouldn’t demand that anyway, not without due cause. But the possibility glistened in his mind like a bloodsoaked knife, and he couldn’t banish it. “I’m sorry, I’m overwrought—”

Teomitl kissed him. It was quick and sudden and hard, licking into his half-open mouth and leaving him reeling from the sensation of a hot mouth and a clever tongue and the faint sting of teeth. He was kissing back before he knew it, grabbing for his lover’s shoulder just to keep himself upright; when a hand found his waist and gripped hard in response, fingers digging into the meat of his side, he let out a breathy whine that wasn’t even remotely one of pain.

Then Teomitl broke the kiss, gazing steadily into his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered. “I’m yours. I’ll always be yours.”

“You can’t—” Promise that, he was going to say, but then Teomitl’s mouth was on his again, stealing the words. This kiss was slower and more tender, but no less devastating for that. When that tongue slid into his mouth again and the hand at his waist slid up his ribs, he arched his back with a moan. He might still leave me, came the treacherous thought. He is a warrior, and once he is crowned he’ll have no shortage of enemies. But that’s not tonight, is it?

Teomitl shifted attention to his throat, lips moving against the sensitive skin. “I can, and I will. Let me prove it to you.”

Then he was uncurling himself, sliding a thigh between Acatl’s legs as he pressed him down to the mat, and Acatl let himself be molded. Yes, this was what he wanted—Teomitl on top of him, all solid muscle and strong, gentle hands, a mouth pressing kisses to his collarbone and a hand lightly tugging at his hair to keep him in place. His hands just seemed to fit at Teomitl’s back, mapping out muscles with his palms and making his lover shiver appreciatively; he had a moment to feel smug, but then teeth nibbled at his throat and he shuddered all over, feeling the tension in his own spine drain away. “Mmm...”

“That’s good,” Teomitl breathed. “Lay back, love. Let me take care of you.”

A hand skimmed down his stomach; as tired as he still was, his body twitched to life. Falling in love with Teomitl had done wonders for his stamina. The thigh between his legs rubbed against his rapidly stiffening cock, and he exhaled sharply. “Oh.”

“See?” Teomitl’s voice was soft. “We’re both here and alive. Together.” He wrapped a hand around Acatl’s cock, thumbing the sensitive spot below the head as he started to work him to full hardness. It didn’t take long, not with the friction of that perfectly placed thigh, and when he squeezed a little harder Acatl gasped.

“Ah...!” It trailed off into a sharp cry, because Teomitl knew just how to touch him. The twist of a wrist at just the right angle made him shudder anew, rolling his hips into that wonderful hand. He was full of sensation, had to do something with it; needing more, he slid a hand up into Teomitl’s hair and drew him up to for another long, hungry kiss. Yes. Yes. Every beat of his heart said it—that they were here, that they were alive, that nothing would part them if Teomitl could stop it.

Teomitl returned the kiss eagerly before drawing away with a wicked smile. “You’re beautiful like this.” He punctuated his words with a slow upwards stroke, and when Acatl sighed in pleasure he chuckled quietly. “You sound as good as you look.”

That was accompanied by another rippling squeeze. Acatl couldn’t even think. Heat rose slowly through his veins, coiling in the pit of his stomach, and he rocked steadily into it. There was Teomitl’s sure, strong hand and the steady pressure of his thigh rubbing against his balls; he ground against it breathlessly before finding words again. He knew he was blushing. “Nnh...voyeur...”

Teomitl smirked, unrepentant, and pressed up with his thigh, pulling a ragged groan out of him. “You deserve to be looked at.”

He huffed out a breath, turning his face away. You always say that. That I’m beautiful, that I’m desirable—I don’t know where you get that from. You’re the beautiful one. And the one that deserved attention too; when he shifted, grinding against him, he could feel Teomitl’s hard cock grazing his own. Loose-limbed with his own desire, he managed somehow to get a hand between them and reach for it; it all but twitched against his fingers, and he gasped a little at how eager his lover was. “Nnh...wait, wait, let me...”

But Teomitl was shaking his head and drawing back, robbing him of his prize. “No.” His grin flashed white teeth in the darkness. “This is for you. You can make it up to me in the morning.”

And there would be quite a lot to make up; Teomitl was still keeping that slow, steady pace, but it was relentless. The building pressure at the base of his spine was enough to make Acatl groan and arch, letting his head fall back. That exposed his throat, and when Teomitl’s mouth found it again he let out a ragged moan at the faint scrape of teeth at his pulse. The way he was going, there would certainly be marks the next morning. He thought he should probably care about that, but at the moment it didn’t seem to matter. No, this slick rolling pleasure was far more important.

“Mmm...” More, he wanted to say. More of this. He couldn’t find the words, but that didn’t matter either; Teomitl knew what he wanted. He only had to let him give it to him. So he bucked into that clever hand, grinding against on his thigh on the way down, and let the sparks coalesce into a blaze.

“That’s it, c’mon...nnnh...” Acatl had slid against Teomitl’s cock again, and this time his lover wasn’t able to ignore it; he gave a rough, wonderful little growl and wriggled against it, seeking more stimulation. When Acatl reached for him again, he didn’t pull away.

Oh, and Teomitl was so responsive. He had to have been hard since nearly the moment they’d started touching; when Acatl squeezed, circling the head of his cock, his groan was loud and sweet to Acatl’s ears. Emboldened, he did it again, establishing a steady rhythm. “What was that,” he breathed with a hot grin, “about me making it up to you in the morning?”

“Acatl-tzin.” It came out in a near-whine, one that went straight to his cock; he shuddered, fucking into Teomitl’s grip, and redoubled his efforts. Teomitl kissed him roughly, all teeth and tongue and a deliciously reverberating moan, and as the hand on his cock sped up he knew he was close. It would be easy to lay back and enjoy it, but he wanted to please his lover as well.

I love you, he thought, and when he got his mouth back—Teomitl had moved to his throat, muffled gasps and soft cries setting his blood to simmering with desire—he gasped out, “Need to touch you—oh.” He hadn’t thought Teomitl was holding back on him, but evidently he had been; he shifted to press their cocks together, grinding hard against him, and it turned the world behind Acatl’s eyes to white sparks. Words failed him. He was so close—gods, so close—

His orgasm rolled through him like the tide, and all he could do was groan as the inexorable tremors rippled through him. Teomitl’s followed a moment after, hitched breaths ending in almost a sob as he spilled himself over Acatl’s skin.

Even when they both came down from that high, they didn’t move. He knew he should clean up, but he was utterly content to lay on his back like a lizard and bask in pleasantly languorous postcoital bliss. His nightmares had never felt further away, nor had he ever been so wonderfully aware of the body he inhabited. I was such a fool. How could this possibly displease the gods? Teomitl was the one to wipe their combined spend off their stomachs with the nearest piece of fabric and immediately flop onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow and gazing at Acatl so tenderly that it made his heart melt. Acatl had to touch him again, settling a hand on the curve of his waist and feeling a smile tug at his lips. My beloved. I made the right choice.

Even in the darkness, Teomitl’s smile was like a sun rising. “...Feeling better?”

“Mm...” His nightmares were already vanishing into the mist, scraps torn to four hundred piece by the way Teomitl had touched him. If he went back to sleep now, he suspected his dreams would be much less trying. Quite possibly stranger—the memory of a particularly vivid one where Acamapichtli had turned into a very large owl still stuck with him—but they wouldn’t feature Teomitl dying in front of him. He was looking forward to it. But there was sweat drying on his skin, and the temperature had dropped quite a bit. Honesty. “It’s a little cold.”

Then he squeaked, because Teomitl was scooping up one of their discarded cloaks and wrapping it and his arms around him like a giant tamale. He found himself with his face buried in Teomitl’s chest, soft cotton cocooning him gently, and he drew in a long breath that was full of the scent of his lover’s skin. They were safe. They’d remain safe. Ahuitzotls were not known for their verbal capabilities. “Mmm...”It was a little difficult for him to get his arms free of the fabric, but he persevered until he could slide them around Teomitl’s waist, holding him close. There, that was better.

“Warmer now?” Teomitl nuzzled into his hair, sounding gently amused.

He yawned, working his jaw in an approximation of a word. “Mm-hmm.”

“Good.” Teomitl stroked his hair, and his eyes fluttered shut on a long exhale. His lover’s voice lowered. “Let’s go back to sleep. I’ll be here in the morning, Acatl.”

He smiled. “I know you will.”

[danganronpa-ea]

Chapter 1 Victim Free Time Events

So counting this is spoiler and if you haven’t read chapter 1, then please do ready them before you continue on this, this is a warning!

A world where those that didn’t make it or just couldn’t survive the cruel world get a chance here, A world where things are right… A world where death never happen.

 I had found myself somewhere in my dreams, I had woken up suddenly somewhere… what is this place.

 As then I found myself in what look to be a garden of sorts which I notice a table with a tea set, snacks and what look to be a calming scene but one thing that stood out was the pony mascot himself – Hamoponi who look to be sitting at the table as he looks at me as he’s smoking.

 I walk over as I notice the fancy chair then look at the horse with a strange look then I ask the question. “Where are we? Why… are we in a garden?” I asked him which then Hamoponi look up to me with a much calmer expression which he gave a sigh.

 “Well I guess you be curious of this location; well this place is a dream-like place where those that aren’t with us get to spend time with you when they couldn’t, seeing as it would be unfair of those that had fan favorites and all that…” He explained which I tilted my head at the ‘fan favorites’ part which then he continues.

 “Pretty much in this, you can spend time with someone that sadly passed or aren’t living at the resort anymore, oh but they have to not be around so don’t pick someone that’s alive.” He stated which he then jumps off. “Wait, you mean… I could spend time with those that aren’t around anymore?” I asked which Hamoponi nodded.

 “Didn’t I say that? Yes, you can – plus counting what happen I bound it won’t get better so best to spend some time with those people plus you have those gifts you can give to them to cheer them up for there lost well anyway – click either 2 button and that person will appear now if you excuse me!” He waves his goodbye.

 And before I could speak, he disappears. I guess I better sit myself down and prepare myself which as I did, I notice 2 buttons; one had the letters ‘Ishikawa Chikao’ and the other was ‘Ueda Tomohiro’.

 I decided to click the first button which was Chikao-san…

 As then a puff of smoke appears which the blue hair politician had appear which he seems confused by all this. “Hu-Huh? What are we doing here? Hm, oh Fuji-san? What’s going on here…?” He asked which he look around then I explain. “Seems it’s a dream of sort and Hamoponi say I can spend some time with you and Ueda-san.” I stated to him which Chikao-san nodded.

 “Oh right, I… think I die, didn’t I? I… did watch what happen and all; I will say I’m glad the others let Tomohiro-kun go… but since you’re here; I guess will spend some time together then?” He asked which I nodded.

 Ishikawa Chikao Free Time Events!

 As then I began to speak with the young Politician, the conversation was pretty lively and I couldn’t help but feel captivated when he talks.

 Seems like me and Chikao-san grew a bit closer…

 I had to wonder a question regarding Chikao-san and then ask him. “So, I get that you’re the Ultimate Politician but why go into a career at such a young age?” I asked him which cause him to frown a bit.

 “Is it wrong for a young person to get into issues regarding our country?” He asked a question in return which I blinked. “Well, no it’s not a problem but I’m just curious…” I told him which he nodded. “I see, well I guess I do sometimes have seniors of mine questioning my age when it comes to my profession but I think politics can be for everyone.” He stated as he crosses his arms.

 He went silent as I tilted my head. “I mean if you look at the talented students here, quite a few of them have careers that would be too young, correct?” He asked which I did recall everyone here, there are some talents at the resort and even at Hope’s Peak I heard about where the person is pretty young which I nodded.

 I guess I never thought of it and shouldn’t judge Chikao-san for being interested in such a profession like politics. “People’s lives, past and inspiration could be a reason that someone would be interested – I mean, isn’t that why you got into public speaking?” He asked me which I nodded.

 “Your right, I did always want to get my voice heard and did debates before but if that’s the case then why did you go into politics anyway?” I asked him, seeing as I was curious of his reason. However, as I ask this he frown and went quiet as he crosses his arms.

 It appears the question was a hard one to think about but then he spoke. “I guess of those 3… it was all of them.”  He spoke as then which I blinked. “All 3, meaning politics has always been a big part of your life?” I asked which then Chikao-san nodded.

 “Indeed, I had many reasons to get into politics and why I wish to bring those issues up, I guess maybe because I tend to notice issues pop up more then others you can say…” He stated with a smile which I smiled back.

 I guess Chikao-san is pretty observant of things and could have the courage to speak his mind; he’s truly a brave person.

 Ishikawa Chikao, Ultimate Politician FTE: 1/5

 --

 It was then we decided to continue talking since time did not matter in dreams, correct?

 As then me and Chikao-san spoke about various topics and yet again, he kept me captivated of course which I couldn’t help but be interested in the person that I was speaking with.

Seems like me and Chikao-san grew a bit closer…

 As then I check to see what gift to give him which I found this pen that is good for writing the ink can last for a long which I handed it to him. “Oh ho! A gift for me? Well, if you’re giving me this, I can’t refuse it so – thank you!” He stated with a smile as took it and put it away which then the blue hair politician crosses his arms.

 I could tell the conversation from last time got a bit serious but I expected no less from a politician but then I got curious. “I actually notice the others do look up to you as a leader and none seem to have an issue taking your leadership, I thought some of them would disagree.” I stated which he shrugged a bit.

 “Well personally I was expecting it but I was surprise most of them allow me to be in charge but yet again I never really say anything…” He stated which I blinked, surprise and then ask. “Wait – you never declared yourself the leader at all?” I asked him, since it surprise me someone so young could be a leader that easily

 But then he spoke as he begun to explain, like he was someone that’s older than me. “Well, no - I felt no reason to declare myself anything; I just think it’s best to let your actions speak instead of what you are, correct? I mean, we have our teacher of course which if anything she be our leader…” He stated as then he shook his head.

 “But one can tell she doesn’t seem like the type to lead, correct? From what I can tell – she had personal reasons to become a teacher but for me. I just let others be the judge; let your actions speak for you and soon others would follow…” He stated which I nodded.

 Something tells me that Chikao-san is a natural born leader and I could see why people follow him which he went silent. “At least, that’s what my Uncle tends to say…” He stated which I blinked. “Oh, was this uncle of yours a politician?” I asked which he nodded but then frown.

 “No but he was in charge of a company; he always says that your actions should speak for you. Not your words. Let people decide on there own if your fit as leader or not… which I’m sure there are people that view you as such, correct?” He asked which I blinked then I look to the side.

 I never thought of myself as one, but I just gave a shrug as I thought it over for a bit when he sprung up that question.

 “I mean, I’m not sure if I am, not many of them see me as one…” I spoke which he nodded. “I see then give it time, sometimes people would need to grow into the position, it takes time if you will…” He stated with a smile.

 I feel I can trust Chikao-san pretty easily; he sounds certain and tries to assure others – really a natural born leader…

 Ishikawa Chikao, Ultimate Politician FTE: 2/5

 --

 It was then we decided to continue talking since time did not matter in dreams, …

 As then me and Chikao-san spoke about various topics and yet again, he kept me captivated of course which I couldn’t help but be interested in the person that I was speaking with.

 Seems like me and Chikao-san grew a bit closer…

 As then I reach into my pocket and pulled out what look to be a red scarf that could turn into a cape which I gave to him. “Huh? You wish to give this to me – well I’m a bit too old for this but sure thing.” He stated as taken the gift from me then Chikao-san cross his arms – he looks to be thinking.

 I was silent for a moment then I spoke. “Hey so, Chikao-san I was a bit curious regarding your past but you mention your uncle so I was curious about your parents… did they influence you into being a politician?” I asked which he scowl then look to the side. “Well, partly… my father was a politician but not one that was the best example…” He spoke as he went silent but that got me more curious.

 Not the best example? Was it someone that had different view points then he did?

 Which as I was about to ask, Chikao-san continue. “If curious, my father was not a very good person; he made choices in the politician world that nearly cause this country ruin at one point. Even helping the prime minster – Ishimaru Toranosuke with various ideas which… both our families suffer but I think the Ishimaru’s were a bit luckier…” He stated which I blinked, confused.

 I heard of Ishimaru Toranosuke was a genius as many claims but never knew failure at all but he was very arrogant with his talent, I think I heard his grandson is attending Hope’s Peak, then the blue hair politician continues.

 “My father had been assassinated when I was really young due to his involvements; due to that my mother was put under protection but she had to give me up and thus resulted in me ending up in the slums…” He spoke which I was surprise.

 I never knew that Chikao-san had that sort of life and it surprise me that he did but then he crosses his arms. “I recall days where I didn’t have food or even were close to starving before my uncle found me but guess it… gave me a wider perspective of people’s lives and what people had to go through to live; what people had to deal with and overall made me see my father was a fool for what he did to the country which I couldn’t help but feel a sense of disappointment but I think it was a blessing…” He stated which I tilted my head.

 I mean from the sounds of it, it seems Chikao-san had very mix opinion regarding his father which then he sighs. “I do apologize for bringing up this dark topic suddenly but I was thinking back to when you ask what got me into politics along with my past and I couldn’t help but remember that…” He stated which I thought it over. “Well maybe if you don’t have the best opinion regarding your father’s actions; I’m sure he still loves you in a way…” I stated with a smile as then he smiled a bit.

 “Maybe? I mean while he made choices that I question to this day, I mean back then I… did idolized him.” He stated which I was surprise.

 So even if Chikao-san didn’t have the best opinion of his father – he still seem to care for him in a way which I guess is a good thing…

 Ishikawa Chikao, Ultimate Politician FTE: 3/5

 --

 It was then we decided to continue talking since time did not matter in dreams, …

 As then me and Chikao-san spoke about various topics and yet again, he kept me captivated of course which I couldn’t help but be interested in the person that I was speaking with.

 Seems like me and Chikao-san grew a bit closer…

 As I reach into my pocket as I took out various documents that seem to be various environment issues and speaks about news that looks current which I gave to him which Chikao-san smile. “You wish for me to have this?! Thank you so much, this might make me understand others!” He spoke as he put it away which then Chikao-san tilted his head to the side as he crosses his arms.

 As then I thought over a question and asked. “I actually notice you don’t seem to talk about your school life or any friends, do you have any?” I asked which Chikao-san blinked as he tilts his head to the side.

 “I don’t? Well, I guess for me school wasn’t that important when I was young but I suppose when I started to attend after the incident I…” Chikao-san thought it over then shook his head. “Could never really understand those around my age; maybe because the things I had interest never fit into my age range or I was a bit too mature to think about them.” He spoke which I snickered a bit.

 He spoke like he was an old man then he smiled a bit. “I mean, I do try to relate to them or see what problems they had – I always want to help others, do things for others and give them advice when they had problems; I always confront them about things that they need address which while some didn’t agree or never bother… most others seem to admire me.” He stated with a straight face.

 However, I did notice one thing that made me confused, he use ‘most’ and not ‘all’ which then I asked. “Wait, are you saying there are some that hated you?” I asked which he nodded. “Remember when I say my father was not a good person? Well, there were some people that got ruin due to him and thus the parents told the children of there family to avoid me or tend to lash out at me due to my father which… at the time I idolized him but overtime they brought up points that… I couldn’t prove wrong.” He stated with uncertainty but then I frown as I shook my head.

 “Personally, I don’t think you should blame yourself for your father’s past mistakes…” I stated which cause Chikao-san to look surprise then I continue. “I mean, those are your father’s mistakes; not yours… you are aware what he has done and I bet if you become prime minster of Japan, I think you can prove to those that you won’t make those same mistakes and try to correct them.” I stated which then he laughed a bit as he spoke.

 “You… think I could be prime minster? Well, I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone say that to me before but what makes you think so…?” He asked me, curious of my reason then I started to think over the reason I think he make a good prime minster.

 - Looks

>Wisdom

- Personality

 I thought it over then I spoke. “Well, your wisdom and knowledge; I think while others think of looks or even the personality but I can tell you are wise beyond your years – you seem to know what to say or what people need to hear. Maybe… that’s why all us look up to you as a leader?” I stated which cause the blue hair politician to go red in the face which he seems… emotional which he got teary eyed as he smiled.

 “You… you really struck something with me! I mean it! Th-thank you so much but the part about me knowing everything…” He stops as he started to think.

 From the looks of it; Chikao-san is someone that has a good head on his shoulder – the type of person to rely on and someone that knows the mistakes but can be a bit disconnected from people around his age at times which I think could be needing some work but I think he does try to….

 Ishikawa Chikao, Ultimate Politician FTE: 4/5

 --

 It was then we decided to continue talking since time did not matter in dreams, …

 As then me and Chikao-san spoke about various topics and yet again, he kept me captivated of course which I couldn’t help but be interested in the person that I was speaking with.

 Seems like me and Chikao-san grew a bit closer…

 As then I took out a small box that has a pin of sorts, one that gives the holder the best of luck in whatever they do which I gave to him. “Hm, not something I see myself having but I could find some use for it, thank you…” He spoke as he put it away, I guess he like it?

 As then Chikao-san spoke. “Fuji-san, I… had thought over what you say; about me knowing everything and well… that might not be true.” He spoke which I blinked surprise.

 I mean he did seem really wise but then he crosses his arms and told me. “While you may think I’m wise, I’m still not sure myself – I don’t have all the answers to everything; I mostly say what I think could help but sometimes my advice won’t always help and sometimes I won’t have people agree with me…” He stated which then he spoke something that made it very clear.

 “But sometimes I think why I pick this up is due to my time in the slums; I experience something awful that broaden my horizons which maybe you should do the same…” He stated which I thought it over.

 Despite the past he lives – he seems to realize it sooner or even grew up faster which he sighs. “Which might be why I could never feel connected to those peers around me; sometimes I… forget to relax but I think being around you and the others makes me feel I can just be myself.” He admitted which I was surprise he say this then continue.

 “If anything, I… should be thanking you for making me realize that sometimes I don’t always have to be this upstanding leader which I still have things to learn and grow myself – which… I guess the old saying; an old dog can learn new tricks, correct?”

 He stated which as then he held out his hand. “So… I think if anything – I do view you all as my friend and people I want to rely on from here on out so maybe I can start learning from you how to enjoy my life as a teenager, hm?” He asked which I smiled as I shook his hand.

 Something tells me that Chikao-san seem he needed people to understand him or maybe someone that could relate but the fact he couldn’t relax or relate to others or felt out of touch did show he still had room to grow.

 I felt a solid bond between myself and Chikao-san!

 Ishikawa Chikao, Ultimate Politician FTE: 5/5

 Congrats you have finish up all Free time events with Ishikawa Chikao; give yourself a pat on the back!

 As then me and Chikao-san started to talk about things I enjoy and like – we started to speak about things that we enjoy in our youth and even then, some. I even seen him joke around quite a bit!

 After that, he… disappear; I sighed as I remember that… he could never live that life, counting that it was cut short… maybe if things were different, we could of but I guess not.

 As then I stated to think of what to do next…

[acourtofabsandillyrians]

Of Sun and Roses - Chapter One

Find the prologue here

Complete masterlist here

Without further ado, chapter one is live!

~~~

Elysa Ashryver didn’t think she was breathing as the music took over, her fingers flying across the keys. The piece she had chosen was one she hadn’t visited in awhile, which was why she was grateful for muscle memory. The way her foot pressed the pedal at just the right moment, or when she leaned into the keys to sound the crescendo...it was as if she had been practicing this piece for weeks. Elysa distantly heard applause as she played the final note, the sound muddled by the fog in her brain. It was common to loose her sense of self when playing, but it had been a long time since she had gotten this lost into the music.

Blinking, Elysa turned toward her sister, Evalin, who was lounging on the couch, romance novel in one hand and a chocolate croissant in the other. Elysa and Evalin were almost mirror images of themselves. If they weren’t princesses but instead simple commoners walking side by side through a market, most would probably think they were twins. But Elysa had softer features, full lips and a rounder face; unlike Evalin whose cheekbones could slice if she ever so desired. Which annoyed the hell out of Elysa because most nobility they conversed with at balls and galas thought seventeen year-old Evalin was the older one, no matter that Elysa was three years her elder.

“You could make it big with a performance like that,” Evalin said around a mouthful of croissant.

Elysa rolled her eyes as she turned around the bench to face her sister. “I already make it big as a princess.”

“Oh, please. You know that no one knows us or really cares about us. We’re the throwaways of the royal family.”

“Don’t say that,” Elysa said gently, fluffing her dress and sitting next to her sister. “What about mother and father?”

Evalin took another bite of her croissant. “Mother chastises me for breathing the wrong way, and father can’t even remember my birthday.”

“How can you breathe the wrong way?”

“Ask mother.”

Elysa covered her mouth as she giggled.

“See?” Evalin bursted out. “She’s gotten to you, too! We can’t even laugh openly.”

Elysa sighed. “Because it isn’t proper, Ev.”

“Proper, my ass,” Evalin muttered under her breath before taking a big swig of her tea.

“Evalin!” Elysa cried, hitting her sister’s shoulder. She mushed her lips together, trying not to laugh. Though they were similar in appearance, Evalin and Elysa couldn’t have been more different. They were polar opposites, but best friends all the same. Elysa needed Evalin to keep her from becoming rigid and uptight like their mother. Still, sometimes Elysa feared for her common sense every time she was with Evalin for too long.

Evalin, placing a dignified hand on her chest, gasped, “What, have I said something wrong, my princess? Well, let me say it again.” She cleared her throat. “Ass, ass, ass, ass—”

Elysa grabbed the last croissant off the plate and shoved it into her sister’s mouth before she could ruin her ears further.

“Evalin Marjorie Ashryver, you are going to get yourself stripped of your title as princess before nightfall if you continue like this.” Elysa tried to say all this with a straight face, but the words came out wobbly and high-pitched, which only made the two princesses collapse to the couch in a fit of giggles.

When they could finally breathe again, Evalin sat up, fanning herself. “In all seriousness, that piece you played…it was amazing.”

Elysa, wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes, bowed her head in thanks. “You really think so?”

“I know so. You could travel the world with talent like that, El.”

Elysa loosed a breath, fingering the ends of her waist-length blonde hair. If only she could. Had she not been born into royalty, she may have considered it. But being a princess complicated things. She wasn’t in line to get the throne, of course, because her older brother was the Crown Prince of Wendlyn, but she was still subject to this castle until her parents found a suitor to marry her off to, most likely a male, fat and twenty years older than her, to secure foreign alliances.

Princess or not, she wasn’t escaping these walls. There was no point in even imagining the what-ifs…it would only make it worse. Besides, though traveling sounded appealing, she wasn’t Evalin. She didn’t have the fiery adventurous streak her sister had, who wasn’t afraid to go off on her own, not knowing which direction she was heading or if she was dipping her toe into a puddle or an ocean.

Elysa opened her mouth to respond when the great wooden doors swung open. She flinched despite the fact it was standard protocol for someone to enter the sun parlor without knocking.

“His Highness Glaston Ashryver, Crown Prince of Wendlyn,” the two guards who opened the door announced.

“Yes, he’s our brother, we know who he is,” Evalin grumbled, though she got to her feet and brushed the crumbs off her dress. Elysa did the same.

The two guards stepped apart, revealing their brother. Glaston was five years older than Elysa, but he might have been their father’s age by the way he presented himself. His ash brown hair was slicked back, glinting in the sunlight streaming through the windows, and despite it being their day off, he was in his full, princely attire, complete with a forest green cape.

His blue eyes, ringed with gold, stared back at Elysa’s and Evalin’s—the only feature they all had in common—waiting for them to act. Elysa bent down into a deep curtsy, tugging on her sister’s dress to do the same. Evalin grumbled but followed suit.

“Elysa, father requires your company,” Glaston announced, voice gruff.

Elysa’s breath caught in her throat. When was the last time her father acknowledged her presence, much less requested to speak with her?

“Is it urgent?” She asked, voice light.

“Yes. He asks that you meet him in his office immediately.” He looked her up and down, taking in her lavender silk dress that was little more than a slip and unbraided hair. “Though you may want to clean up your presentation first.”

“Excuse me?” Evalin demanded, but Elysa shushed her and bowed her head, muttering an “Of course.”

Whatever her father required her for, she needed the appearance of a beautiful princess. Someone yielding and ladylike. Even though she felt anything but.

~~~

Tagging: @yourlocalautisticoverlord​

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! I’m so in love with this story and these characters...I hope you will love Elysa as much as I do as the story progresses! Please reblog, comment, share, jump up and down, whatever floats your boat. Let me know what you think in the comments! Or, if you would liked to be tagged, comment or let me know in my askbox!

Find character breakdown here

Chapter Two