#also LATA/GARRACK

[sabraeal]

Not Necessarily a Virtue

[Read on AO3]

Obiyuki AU Bingo 2021 Practical Magic AU

There hadn’t been a plan when Obi picked up the phone.

All it had taken was one rogue text-- another case assigned to his social worker, one that was enough of an emergency that it his behavioral issues seem tame in comparison. Her chair rattles when she stans, its plastic back hitting the filing cabinets with a metallic tang, but her hands tremble more.

“This will be just a minute,” she says, smile plastered tight to her face. And then she leaves him there alone, his file open on her desk, flaws left out for the world to see.

It doesn’t bothered him. There’s no point, not when he already knows: he’s trouble with a capital-T, each failed family drawing him closer and closer to being unplaceable. Some people have a face only a mother could love, but Obi-- Obi has that for his personality. Though considering how each of his six almost-moms signed him away with a sigh of relief, walking out the plate glass doors without even a glance back, maybe he has the sort of personality that makes people reconsider whether they could be a mother.

So here he is again, freshly abandoned, back in the sterile halls of social services for the seventh time without a place to call home. He’s not even twelve.

Not that these people aren’t trying to change that-- he’s not some cat left at the shelter, free to a good home. Unless Kerry or Janine or the girl at the desk he didn’t get to read the name tag of wanted to sleep on their couch, they have to find someone to take him for the night. And he knows from experience, there’s always a family that believes they can change him. A young couple who thought all problem children needed was just a little extra love. By the time Kerry came back, there’d be good news waiting, a miracle crafted by three people who didn’t want to miss the Masked Singer finale. They’d pack him into the back of a car and ship him off to a new place to fail. Because no matter how many homes they tried to make for him, it’d never change how he felt.

Obi had tried, at first. He was just a little kid, wanting to be loved, but every home he went to itched like hives in his head, a constant buzz that set his teeth on edge and made him do anything, try anything to leave. He belonged somewhere else, somewhere not here, and he knew it like he knew Kerry’s other case had overdosed on a bottle of sleeping pills in his foster mother’s cabinet-- with an inexplicable certainty.

He waits thirty seconds after she leaves before he slides off the the plastic seat she’d put him in. They love these things, oddly shaped and in primary colors that make the little kids giddy, but Obi hates them. He’s undersized, and putting him in these kiddie rooms always makes people treat him like he’s eight instead of eleven, asking him about Blue’s Clues.

But that’s not why he gets up, not entirely. There’s a buzzing in the back of his brain, a knowing, and it makes him stand, his hand straying to the glass door. He can’t see anything outside, at least not anything besides more kiddie chairs and offices, but he steps out nonetheless. He steps out and, unerringly, turns to face the girl waiting for him down the hall.

“It’s you.” Her tawny hair stresses the elastic she’s trapped it in, too thick. It’s not one of those hair ones either, but one of those thick rubber bands they use on the produce in grocery store. It hurts; he knows because it’s common sense, but also because he just...Knows. Their eyes meet, and even though he doesn’t her name, they’ve known each other forever.

His mouth is dry when he asks, “Do you know me?”

“I saw you in a dream.” She takes a step toward him, her sneakers scuffed and worn, just like his. “You’re Obi. I’m Torou.”

He doesn’t know this girl. There’s a hundred ways she could get his name; one of them is sitting on a desk behind him right now. But when she looks up at him with eyes he’s only ever seen in the mirror, he holds out his hand. “Come here.”

His heart pounds with each mincing squeak of her sneakers on the tile. She’s taking too long and she’s coming too fast; each terrible second convinces him he’s making a mistake at the same time he’s doing what he was always meant to do. By the time she slips her hand into his, he’s trembling, but it doesn’t matter because they both are and this--

This is right. And he knows exactly what to do.

It’s holding her hand that he picks up the phone. He fucks it up the first time-- he gets that gross digital buzz before he notices the sticker beneath the speaker, informing him 9 dials out-- but the second one his fingers guide him, releasing the number he has no reason to know. A number he has no reason to believe will work, that could have just come from the weird recesses of his mind but--

But he’s not surprised when a man picks up. “Who is this? Do you know what time--?”

“We’re here,” Obi says, and it shouldn’t be enough, but it is. “Come pick us up.”

A specter arrives on the front walk at noon.

Obi knows by the hush in the office. Or really the weight of it-- it’s been quiet like this since last night, since he and Torou sat down on the big bean bag couch in the waiting room, and Obi announced they wouldn’t be letting go. His case worker had crouched in front of them, that sweet smile plastered to her lips, and told him that they’d only have to be separated for a night. But he’d known-- the way he always did-- that every word was a lie. His fingers tightened in her grip, narrowing his eyes until the woman shivered, and that was that.

Kerry stayed with them, of course; she’d slept in her office, under a blanket it’s clear she’s never used and had only just discovered wasn’t comfortable no matter how many Sesame Street characters were on it. They’d been tucked under another by a younger girl with trembling hands, her eyes darting between them as she smoothed out its edges. He’d heard them through the walls this morning while the rest of the office filtered in-- government buildings like this were always cutting corners, leaving things like this paper thin, stuff that would go up like tissue in a fire.

Do you think they’re twins? one asked. Trembling hands, he guesses, since her voice does as well, like a chihuahua in a sweater. I’ve heard about this happening with twins. They look and just know.

Can’t be, we have their birth certificates, says another. Kerry, probably; she might be a liar, but she’s one of the only people in this place that has her head screwed on right, too. Two different sets of parents.

And the man they called last night? This one is stern; their manager maybe. He’s not really sure how this all works; he’s not even twelve, and he can only just know so much. Who is he?

There’s a heavy pause. I...I don’t know.

So when he arrives, dressed like an undertaker and holding an umbrella beneath the bright New Mexico sky, the whole place goes quiet. When he walks it’s stiff, like it took a hundred volts to get him up off the table and he’s only just gotten used to the idea. Obi casts a look down at Torou, at where her hand is white knuckled in his, and thinks about how he knows things, and wonders just what she might be able to do.

The man enters, umbrella folding in a single neat motion, before he says. “I am Lata Forenzo. I believe you have my...niblings.”

Niblings, Obi learns, is like siblings, only sideways.

“It was a simplification,” Lata says, his voice a deep, hesitant gravel. He casts a speculative look at the taxi driver, adjusting the gloves on his hands. “Niece and nephew is an unwieldy phrase, and time, after all, is of the essence.”

“Is it?” Torou’s eyes are wide, and for the first time since last night, her hand leaves his, gripping on to the cloth at Lata’s knee. “Is there something after us? Those bugs, they’re not--”

“No.” Obi’s known his uncle for barely more than a half hour, but he knows he isn’t a tactile person. Even still, Lata looks down at Torou, his not-gold eyes somehow softer, and puts two fingers over the bones at the back of her hand. “But it is time to bring you home.”

Home is an island. It takes the whole night to fly in, and when they land the sun is just barely scratching the sky. Even still, there’s no stopping; Lata bundles them straight into a cab, shushing them before they can make much more than a peep.

“We’ll be home soon,” he says, and the next time he wakes them, salt stings Obi’s nose, and he’s being carried over a threshold.

“Are we here?” he slurs. The house is weird-- angular, really, with a hall so narrow he could kick out a leg and stop them up like a cork. He nearly does, just to be cussed, but he catches Torou still wrapped up in her blanket, lolling on the couch, and says instead, “Can you let me down?”

Lata hesitates, fingers stiff where they wrap around his knees and shoulders, but he nods.

Obi’s feet-- just wearing socks now, somehow-- press on the floor, and he knows: he’s home.

“Oh,” he breathes, hands flying out to steady himself. “Oh.”

When he looks up, Torou’s eyes meet his, round and wide. “I felt that.”

Her own feet swing down-- bare-- and the moment she touches the wide old planks--

“Oh.” Lata braces himself against the wall, the sound bitter on his lips. “So it’s true. There will always be two.”

They aren’t his words, Obi knows, but they’re important. They’ve got that feel, the same as when Torou said she dreamed of him. The sort that are going to be life-changing, one way or another.

But Obi’s had enough of that today. Enough of it for a lifetime. He glances over at Torou, and she nods. “Can we go outside?”

Lata blinks, eyes pulling from the wallpaper to fix on him. After a long moment, he says, “You know where the door is.”

Obi does, somehow, and when he opens it--

It’s paradise.

Home has rules too, loads of them. It’s quiet time from nine to eight, though Lata doesn’t much care if they’re sleeping, so long as they’re in bed. Teeth have to be brushed twice a day-- he’d glowered when Obi said he had good teeth and only needed the once, standing over him for a week morning and night to see the rule stuck. There’s only one dessert after dinner; Obi balked at that one, until he’d learned that a limit on quantity wasn’t the same thing as size. He and Torou find three old sundae dishes in the cabinet and pile them high with ice cream and every topping they can find, and when they slap Lata’s down in front of him, cheeks bulging with their own towers of sweets, all he’d does is give them that small, reluctant twitch of a smile and dig in.

They have to make their beds and pick up after themselves-- this house has treated us well, Lata tells them, it’s only right we take care of it in return-- and they have to tell him if they plan to play in the yard; but in return their sheets are always clean, and dinner’s promptly at six. When they come back in, sweaty and exhausted from the summer heat, there’s always a bowl of fruit waiting for them and cold drinks.

He’d known, in the way he always does, that this couldn’t last. So when summer’s heat began to cool, he’s not surprised to see Lata waiting on for them on the veranda, mouth pulled into an even grimmer line.

“It’s time,” he says, “for a Family Meeting.”

“School,” Lata says with the sort of relish and derision only a professor like him can summon up, “is starting. Which means there are new rules.”

Fingers brush at Obi’s, and when he reaches out, Torou’s fingers knit in his. He knows what rules these will be-- his parents had them to, the only ones they’d ever made. His mother had gotten down on her knees the night before kindergarten, nails digging into his shoulders, and used a voice so dark, so unlike her, he’d dreamed of button eyes staring into his for a week. His father had tossed out their Coraline DVD after that.

“Forenzos,” Lata starts, already sounding weary, “look after each other. So you’ll walk together, both ways, and if one of you gets into trouble--” he fixes them both with a stern look-- “I expect both of you to run.”

Obi stares. “What?”

“You’ll come back right after school, unless we have previously discussed plans,” Lata continues. “You’re far too young for...cellular phones, so I expect that if you make plans with friends, you will discuss them with me the night previous, or you will come home first and ask permission. Not,” he murmurs, just barely audible, “that I expect you’ll have much trouble with that.”

“Is that...” Obi’s jaw works. “Is that all?”

“I expect you to keep up your grades.” Lata’s brow furrows, taking them in, as if he’d never once questioned whether or not they would be stellar students. As if most people don’t look at the both of them and see future high school flunk outs. “If they are slipping, I’m afraid I’ll have to limit your free time until we are able to bring them back to an acceptable level. Homework is to be done at the table, and once you are done, your time is yours until dinner.”

Torou’s hand squeezes his. “We?”

Lata blinks. “Excuse me?”

“You said ‘we.’“ She clear her throat, eyelashes fluttering with nerves. “If our grades are bad, you said we would, uh, fix them.”

“Of course.” His mouth pulls at the corners, annoyed. “How could I possibly ask you to rectify such a thing on your own? You’re already doing the best you can, if you still struggle, then it’s clearly something we both-- oh my,” he murmurs mildly, “she’s leaking.”

“Sorry,” she sobs, pink burning on her cheeks, the way it never did on his. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no.” Lata flails out, yanking a tissue from the box, shoving it into her hand. “I just...hope that you find this all fair. I was always quite good at school, but my sisters--” he glances at them, wary-- “varied. I hope I can only...encourage you to your best.”

“But what about...” Obi snaps his teeth around the words. If he doesn’t ask, then it won’t become a rule, and his uncle can’t be disappointed when he breaks it.

The pictures on the wall prove that they’re family, that Lata truly is his mom’s brother, even if they don’t share much more than a hair color. But Obi’s never seen it, the way he does in pictures of Torou’s mom, where there’s a flick of the hand or a cock of a hip that says they spent their childhood together, inextricably intertwined forever in ways they would never understand.

But Lata raises a brow now, and he sees it, that small thread that ties him to his mom, that says brother. “About...?”

“The other stuff,” Torou blurts out, coughing down a sniff. “He wants to know what we...”

Her words peter out too, like she can’t figure out what to do with them. He can’t stop knowing, and she can’t stop dreaming, and the thought of having to pretend they can is...tiring this time, in a way it never was in the system.

His mouth wraps around the words with a curious sort of wonder. “Other stuff?” 

“You know,” she mutters, so small. “The weird stuff.”

Lata jolts in his chair, spine as straight as a poker. His hands press flat against his knees, and when he looks at them, the gray in his eyes in thunderous.

“This is the most important rule,” he tells them, voice oddly resonant, “you must follow it. Promise me.”

Obi’s heart sinks into his stomach, but he nods, fingers squeezing Torou’s tighter.

Lata’s hand presses heavy on his shoulder, leather flexing over cotton. “Don’t ever hide yourselves. Not for anything. Not for anyone.” Obi dares to look up, and Lata’s gaze is waiting to catch him. “Being...normal is not necessarily a virtue. There is no shame in being who you are, none at all.”

Or what you are, he doesn’t say, but his eyes do, loud and clear. He doesn’t say what that is either, but--

Obi knows. Just like he always does.

And if he didn’t, well-- he would have found out soon enough.

It’s a small island; small enough that K-12 are all squeezed into one school, though Lata tells them that by the time they go to senior high, they might have built another. It’s still not small enough for Torou and him to be in the same class, so he drops her off at the door with promises to find her at lunch and moseys down to his own. It puts him a little behind schedule, the school bell ringing on his heels, and when he steps in--

The room goes silent. Twenty pairs of eyes stare at him, round and wide, not a single person daring to do much more than breathe.

“Forenzo,” the teacher says, faint. “You must be...the Forenzo boy.”

“Yeah.” He grips at his shoulder. “Obi.”

“You can take your seat...at the back,” she says, before hurrying to the board, eager to put her back to him.

“I thought my mom said all the Forenzos died,” a boy whispers as he passes. “Except the old man, of course.”

“No, they just left,” says the one next to them. “Chased out. Because they’re, you know...”

Obi does; he always had, even before he had a word for it.

“I don’t think a boy can be a witch,” a girl says, thoughtless and thoughtful at the same time. “They’re wizards, or something.”

“Warlocks,” scoffs another. “Don’t you know anything? And they do blood magic with little girls--”

Obi grits his teeth, eyes forward. There’s two empty chairs in the back, one in the corner by the window, and the other next to it, and he steers toward that one-- window seats always get him in trouble--

And the boy next to it scoots away, fear bright in his eyes. Obi looks back at the teacher, but she’s writing her name on the board real slow, like she’s hoping this might solve itself.

Fine, he can take a hint. He takes the window, sliding in behind the desk. The girl in front of him scoots forward too, making sure her chair doesn’t touch his desktop, and he sighs. At least they’re all getting this out of the way first.

A bag drops, right next to his seat.

“Ms Kino!” There’s a girl there, smaller than everyone else, though her voice makes her twice as tall. In the morning sun, her hair burns bright like the horizon. “Can I change my seat?”

“Shirayuki?” The teacher blinks back at them, and Obi could swear she breaks into a cold sweat. “Shirayuki, I’m not sure that’s--”

“I can’t see the board from over there,” she says, every syllable digging in its heels. “There’s glare. Because I’m so small.”

Ms Kino squints back at her, and really-- there’s no denying how small she is, at least a head below Obi and he’s nothing to write home about either. “If you’re sure...”

“Great.” She drops into her seat with a thump as loud as thunder, setting out her notebook and pencil with the sort of purposeful efficiency that says there’s no doubt she’s here to stay.

Obi slips his out of his backpack too, so quiet so the other kids will stop looking at him like he’s going to set the place on fire, but he hears, “You’re new, right?”

He looks down, and there’s the girl, smiling across the aisle. “Yeah. I’m--”

“Obi, I heard.” She leans toward him. “I’m--”

“Shirayuki.” His mouth twitches. “I also heard.”

Her smile stretches towards a grin. “You know, Ms Kino likes group projects.”

He blinks. “Does she?”

She nods. “Would you like a partner?”

“She hasn’t assigned one yet,” he says, a little lost.

“She will,” this Shirayuki says, confident. The way he is, when he knows.

He nods, slow. “All right, so for the next one.”

“To start.” She fixes him with a look he can’t get out from under. “Are you eating lunch with someone?”

“Ah, yeah.” He feels guilty about it now, for some reason. “My um. Cousin.”

She brightens. “Great. I’ll show you guys the best place to sit.”

He’s been adopted, he realizes, like the way the cats around the house aren’t. And this girl means to keep him.

For once in his very short life, Obi doesn’t mind knowing. Just like he always does.

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

Scene 1: mitsuhide: Obi, do you know if kiki has a lover? Obi: It's me. Scene 2: shirayuki: obi jokes around but he doesn't lie. The rest is left to you 👍

Prompts are currently closed while I catch up. I will announce when I am open! :)

A/N: Another, and hopefully last, sneak peak of Best Laid Plans out of the prompt pile before I get a chance to work on the actual story. This may or may not make it into the final draft.

Sorry, no Mitsuhide here. Just Suzu, Shirayuki, Obi, and a MYSTERY :3

It’s been less than a month since Ryuu left for Wistal.

As much as she was happy for him, as much as her chest swells with pride whenever he sends missives back detailing his new role, she misses him. No longer was he there to tuck himself into the library with her late at night, half buried by his own pile of books. No longer did she have company for breakfast if Obi took to the wall overnight. No longer did his steady presence fill up his corner of the pharmacy with quiet mumbling and quick scratches of the pen. Instead, his space was neat, clean, and… entirely void.

Obi tells her that it will get easier with time. That he’ll come to visit before she knows it. But right here, right now, standing before the prescription cabinet, she has never has she felt his absence more keenly.

Teas spill over from their containers, their script usually so neat and tidy now smudged and illegible. Bottles clink together in disarray, tipping over and mixing suspensions too soon, and thelittle packets of herbal mixes are not filed so much as flung into their boxes.

Sighing, Shirayuki pushes up her sleeves and gets to work. 

Ordering the bottles into neat lines, she pulls the prescription packets out onto the table top with a swoop of her arm. Picking up one hereand another one there, she reorders each until they make a straight line in order by the names she can make out in the top corner. There’s a couple that are more scrawl than letters, ones that she can figure out with a little more scrutiny and perhaps a talk with Yuuha, but one stands out. It doesn’t have a name so much as a symbol, the inky body of what looks to be a cat lazes across the parchment, the curl of its tail long and looping.

“Suzu?” Shirayuki frowns, staring at the hunchedshoulders of a man furiously attempting to wrap up his final report for theday. His shoulders hunch further, ignoring her and Shirayuk winces when she peers over his shoulderat the illegible mess becoming more like scribbles than words. “Do you knowwhat this is?”

Barely sparing her a glance over his shoulder, he dipshis quill in the inkwell and continues on. He must have plans this evening, so eager he is to leave. “It’s a prescription.”

There are days that she really likes Suzu. Days that sheappreciates him for his intelligence and his candor. And yet there are also days like todaythat she wonders just who raised him. “Yes,” she huffs, holding it towards himin the hope that he’ll actually lookthis time. “But this one doesn’t have a name on it.”

“I always code the medication,” he lies. “It must havebeen one of the apprentices.”

“Suzu.” She is trying to keep the irritation out of her voice, so she flips the packet open, taking a quick sniff. If he can’t identify it, then maybe she can figure out the medication and match it to their records. “Apprentices can’t file themedication without one of us overseeing them.”

“Sounds like one of them didn’t follow procedure,” heshrugs, throwing the quill to the desk and snapping the journal shut before theink has a chance to dry. “And since I am done for the day now, that sounds morelike a Shirayuki problem than a Suzu problem.”

Mouth pressing into a thin line, she stares at him, putting her hands on her hips for good measure.

The look has its intended effect. Eyes flicking to hers, then away, he sets the journal back down on the desk with a weary sigh. 

“Does it really nothave anything on it?”

“No,” she shakes her head, looking down at the little packet cradled in the palm of her hand. “Just a drawingof a cat.”

“Ah!” Suzu squawks, flailing after her. “That’smine!”

“Yours?” Shirayuki’s eyes widen. Sniffing the mix again,she can’t help but quirk her lips to the side. “I don’t think you need to worry aboutgetting pregnant, Suzu.”

He flushes, guilty, and ah- she was right!

“Unless!” Her mouth drops open and she closes in on him,looking about the room to make sure they’re alone. “Are you and Yuzuri-”

“What!” He shakes his head and hands, hair going everywhere. “No!”

Shirayuki’s disbelief must be plain as day on her facefor Suzu’s flush deepens, his skin going ruddy-

“It’s, uhm, for somebody else?” he tries.

Raising a single eyebrow, she holds the packet betweenher fore and middle finger like evidence before the magistrate. “Like who?”

Teeth baring in a grimace, he squeaks out, “No one…important?”

“Uh… huh.”

“Look, just give it to me,” he says, opening his palm toher. “I’ll deliver it so you don’t even have to look at it ever again.”

She pulls it back just before he would snatch it from herhand and meets him full to the eyes. He’s staring at her, beseeching, and shewishes she were more like Kiki. Or Garrack. Or Yuzuri. Or any of her friends,really, who seemed to be born with the innate ability to pry secrets from theirtargets with merely a look.

“Fine,” she says, giving in. “But starting tomorrow, I’m taking the day shift back.”

Suzu’s eyes widen, and she thinks she’s found it - that leverage that Kiki always says that she needs to seek out when her earnestness does not work. The protest is on the tip of his tongue, she can tell, the answers to her questions surrounding his mystery patient. This is her pharmacy, too, after all, she needs to know in case there is some unintended reaction, but-

But the surprise just melts away to a weary acceptance. Suzu nods, plucking the prescription from between her fingers. “Deal.”

~ ~ ~

It’s after he leaves that she lets the guilt gnaw at her.

In the silence of the pharmacy after nightfall, she has nothing but the soothing movement of turning herbs to paste, the piles of papers that need to be graded, or tidying the organizational system that is woefully underutilized in its creators absence. But she can’t bring her mind to focus, can’t find a second to stop remembering that the last look Suzu gave her before he left looked like- like disappointment.

Gnawing on her lip, she paces, trying to outrun the feeling, but it’s no good. Yes, it’s her pharmacy, but it is his, too. And maybe he had a reason - a good reason - to keep it a secret. She had but to ask and-

Shirayuki looks towards the burner, it’s supply of coals surprisingly low, and all her good graces abruptly disappear.

He had all day - all day! - to restock it, and three apprentices at his side, to boot! But a quick check of the stores proves what has been right the last week all along, no matter how often she reminded them. The burlap is distressingly empty, nothing more than a few pebbles lining the bottom of the bag.

Huffing, Shirayuki jots down a quick note - Will Return Soon! - in her cleanest script, throws on her coat, and is immediately almost blown over by a gust of freezing wind the second she walks out the door.

Hugging herself, she crosses the wall, holding her head down to give the wind as little bare skin as possible to attack. It’s only because she has her head bowed that she sees it, sees him. Suzu. Down on the streets below. She stops, his name on her lips, ready to let the sleeping population of Lyrias know just how inconsiderate of a coworker he is, when she witnesses him draws something from his pocket. 

The words she wants to hurl wither on her tongue before they can even form. Without really even knowing why, she ducks a little, peering over the ramparts.

He’s talking to someone, someone half in shadows. A hand reaches out, slim, and takes the packet from him. There’s a pause, Suzu nodding with one of his slow moving shrugs that only appears when he has a meeting with Lata.

Curious.

Thankfully, it’s over quick - the wind is bitter tonight - and he turns to go, leaving his companion in the dark. Shirayuki lingers for a moment, wondering if she will appear, and is just about to give up when-

When she appears from the shadows, both hands wrapped around a steaming mug of spiced ale and- and-

That is not who she was expecting.

~ ~ ~

“You’re being awfully quiet today.”

“Hmm?” Shirayuki chirps, pulled back from her muzzy thoughts.In the early morning hours, lulled by the sound of snow crunching underfoot, it is easy to get lost in the silence, to let amystery unravel on the long winding paths to the dormitories.

“I think-” Shirayuki chews her lower lip, glancing at Obifrom beneath the fan of her lashes. The snow is coming down so silent and so thick that they catch on everything.

Obi laughs, dusting flakes off of the spikes of hishair. The movement is happy, relaxed. She’s been seeing it more and more since he returned from- from the Bargette incident.

“…you think?” he prompts.

So much changed out there. Off, where she could not follow any of them.

It is because of this that the words pull slowly from her, carefully. “I think… Kiki has a lover.”

Obi chuckles. “I wonder.”

She knew it.

“You know!” Her grin spreads wide when his face falls,because of course – of course Obiknows. She grabs ahold of his forearm, bouncing a little when his eyes widen insurprise. “Tell me!”

His mouth gapes, his face darkening with a helpless little flush, and he knows.

“Well,” he coughs, grin pained. “I guess you caught us, Miss.”

The smile drops right off her face like it jumped from a sheer cliff. “Be serious, Obi.”

He stares at her. “I am.”

She stares right back and he’s- he’s teasing her. Stalling for time. He’s got tobe. The mysterious underbelly of Lyrias was something he and his men alone wereprivy to and now here she was, uncovering a mystery he didn’t know how to solve. “Fine,”she sniffs. “If you’re not going to take me seriously, I’ll figure it out on myown.”

“Miss,” helaughs, trailing behind her. “I’m not lying-”

“Just you wait, Obi!” she calls behind her, bootscrunching a new path underfoot. “I’ll figure it out with or without your help!”

[thelionshoarde]

If you still need prompts: Suzu and Shirayuki, the need for warmth and good company, and the mysterious disappearance of a bottle of wine?

Iiii got sick this last week and fell behind so this was rushed and probably shoddy, D: please forgive the errors and inconsistent characterization??

12 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS PROMPT-A-THON, DAY 4

Or you can read it here on ao3 if you prefer!

Shirayuki escaped through the balcony door, squeezing her way through the throng of merry-makers and out, gasping, into the sudden dark and quiet and empty space of a frozen night.

Icicles glittered in the dim glow of lanterns, of the stars, of the distant city lights. Relieved to be alone, Shirayuki moved toward the balustrade. Her breath clouded the air, and though the festive gown she wore was ill-suited to winter weather, the heat that flushed her from the crowded ballroom at Wilant Castle kept her from shivering.

A familiar, lethargic voice said, “I’ll have you know I claimed this balcony right from the get go. If you want sanctuary, it’s going to cost you.”

Startled, Shirayuki turned sharply to the side. Benches were set up along the wall, tucked between frosted topiary and hidden largely in shadow. Suzu looked out at her, sprawled comfortably in what looked like Obi’s new, velvet cape. He also appeared to have brought his work satchel with him, the bag slumped beneath his booted feet, oddly shaped and bulging in places.

“How long have you been out here?” she asked. “It’s nearly time for the -- the kissing, you know. I thought you wouldn’t want to miss out on that.”

Suzu waved a lazy hand, gloved in expensive kid skin. If Shirayuki remembered correctly Obi had taken him out shopping for the event, insisting that Suzu had to show up at Wilant Castle in something nicer than his work attire.

It seemed strange, for a moment; Suzu across from her in the cold, as if they were still pulling long hours at Lata’s and had stepped outside for a short break, talking idly and half-asleep as had been their habit, cooling off from the intense heat of their research. Over a year since then, Shirayuki realized with a start.

With their individual workloads at the Pharmacy, with Suzuri and Ryuu and Obi always about, it had been easy to fall back into familiar patterns. Ones where Shirayuki rarely saw Suzu alone. Her heart clenched, an uncomfortable burn, as she realized how much she missed it. Shirayuki had enjoyed his company, and it wasn’t until now she understood that, for some reason, Suzu in a crowd was never quite the same as Suzu alone.

“You look weird,” Suzu accused, rather than answer. “Like a -- a Lady.”

Then again, perhaps absence really did make the heart grow fonder.

“Sorry?” she asked, mouth pursed with irritation, “Should I go inside? I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“Eh? Oh, no,” Suzu said, sounding soft and distant, distracted. Shirayuki always forgot the oddity of him -- how he could give off such an air of apathy, and yet have the most direct, attentive gaze -- until his focus caught on her. “I was getting bored anyway.”

“Well,” Shirayuki smiled, crooked and uncertain. “Shall I sit, then?”

Suzu snuggled more firmly beneath Obi’s purloined cape, the crushed, royal blue velvet dark against his pale hair, long enough now to curl against his broad shoulders. “Sure,” he said, tilting his head to the empty stretch of bench beside him. “But I hope you brought your own blanket, I’m not sharing.”

* * *

A brief tugging war later, Shirayuki had the cape pulled over her front, huddled against Suzu in the bitter cold. “I suppose you’ll be wanting to eat my spoils as well,” Suzu sighed, reaching down to his satchel.

“Your -- your spoils?”

“Mm,” Suzu agreed, coming back up with two goblets full of bite sized cubes of cheese and little mince meat pies. Laughing, Shirayuki accepted the prize, flavors bursting against her tongue, the metal goblet biting through her thin silk gloves, Suzu muttering outrageous commentary about the looks he’d received as he piled his goblets high with appetizers.

* * *

“What about you? Not going to go on a kissing spree?”

Shirayuki felt the prickle of a blush in her cheeks, and kept her gaze on the distant stars. She had thought this would be the same as it had been in the past -- when she and Suzu had bowed their heads nearly touching over the olin maris seeds, the glittering crystals, and the heat, murmuring conjectures and frustrated oaths, close enough their breath mingled -- but it wasn’t.

It felt strange and new. Maybe it was because instead of needing the chill air to cool off, they were curled together for warmth. Or the way Shirayuki caught Suzu staring at her, only to have him look away a second too slow not to be obvious about it. Or perhaps it was because she knew what Yuzuri would say -- that dinner beneath the stars, the two of them alone, sounded like a date.

It wasn’t a date. And it was completely normal for them to be talking about kissing. It was Longest Night, after all.

“No, I --”

“Saving all your kisses for a special someone?”

“No,” Shirayuki protested, blush intensifying. “It’s only --”

“Oh.” Despairing, Shirayuki closed her eyes on the stars and tilted her head back against the stone as Suzu interrupted again. “I see. You’ve never been kissed?”

The blush flamed, burning her. “No!” she cried, shifting so she could glare at her fellow pharmacist. “I’ve -- I’ve been kissed! But I only -- well.” What dignity did she even have, here, faced with Suzu’s placid interrogation? For a moment she wished she could scoop up a palmful of snow and throw it in his face. “I’ve only been kissed by one person,” she admitted. “I don’t think I’m quite capable of -- of going around and kissing dozens, even if it is a tradition.”

The North was weird, she had long decided. Kissing wasn’t meant to be a group activity -- right? Nettled, she subsided, leaning back against the wall, head tilted back once more to take in the unfeeling, soothing sky. Only after she settled did she freeze, realizing that her shoulder was pressed to Suzu’s, that her thigh ran along the length of his.

“Who was it?”

Oh! Really. Even for Suzu, that seemed too prying. “None of your business,” she said, tone tart. Beneath the cloak she folded her arms, trying not to pay attention to the solid muscle of Suzu’s arm, a strength that usually went unnoticed.

“Hm, I’ll guess, then. Garrack?”

“That’s your fantasy,” Shirayuki claimed, startled into laughter.

Suzu hummed, sounding pleased. “That should be everybody’s fantasy. Okay, so not Garrak. Shidan?”

“Now you’re just being silly,” Shirayuki snorted, rolling her eyes.

For a moment she thought he was going to let it go. That he had gotten bored, or distracted, or simply satisfied his urge to -- to tease her. But then he asked, voice strange, “Obi, then.”

“W-what? No,” she said, brows furrowing. “Not Obi. It --”

Honestly, she may as well give in. Suzu was obsessive when he chose, and for some strange, unfathomable reason, he had chosen to obsess over this topic. Sighing, she admitted, “Zen. Zen’s the only person I’ve ever kissed.”

“Zen. The Second Prince of Clarines, Zen?”

“That would be the one,” Shirayuki muttered, plucking at the cape. The noise from within the ballroom lifted, loud with cheers, before subsiding back into a gentler, ambient noise of controlled, festive chaos. Maybe she should go back in, but --

She didn’t really want to.

“Huh,” said Suzu. “Well, can’t say I blame you. If he’s as pretty as his brother I wouldn’t say no to a kiss either.”

Shirayuki tucked the cape over her nose, groaning.

* * *

“Well, I think it’s time for drinking,” Suzu decided. “You wipe out the goblets, Shirayuki. I’ll get the wine.”

“The -- how much do you have in there, Suzu! Goodness.”

The cape fell from Shirayuki’s shoulders as Suzu leaned forward, and she shivered, but took advantage of the give to wipe clean the interior of both goblets. “Not much, really,” Suzu said, voice muffled. He grunted, tugging, and then came back upright abruptly, his hair a silvery sweep, like fine snow, that brushed against Shirayuki’s cheek. “Just enough for a quality evening, don’t you think?”

“I suppose,” Shirayuki allowed, as Suzu worked the cork out of the bottle. It wasn’t one of the sparkling bottles served by the waiters inside, either, it was cloudy, a little dusty, a wax seal on one corner of the peeling label. Shirayuki felt realization dawn on her, slow and tinged with horror, but mostly amazement.

“Is that -- oh, oh my. Obi got in so much trouble for this!”

The bottle in Suzu’s hand was a very expensive wine that had been, allegedly, purloined from Lata’s house. Obi had been accused, Lata muttering indignantly that he knew Obi wasn’t a real knight. Suzu hummed, but Shirayuki recognized the smug amusement that deepened the corners of his mouth, an almost smile, as he said, “Care for a drink, Miss Court Pharmacist? It’d be a pity to let Obi’s theft go to waste.”

“Might as well,” Shirayuki said, trying to keep the laugh from her voice, and failing.

* * *

With the wine, a full belly, and company that Shirayuki found entirely too pleasing, she was warm despite the sharpness of the air stinging her nose. “I really am surprised you’re not inside,” she admitted, sipping at her second glass of wine. “Rubbing elbows with moneyed Lords and Ladies, and the like.”

“Mm, money would be nice,” Suzu sighed, sounding dreamy. “Think of all the research I could get done if I could only charm one of these rich nobles into funding me? Do you think I could convince Duchess Manaka to make me her sidepiece? She can lavish me in rewards for being so pretty.”

Shirayuki snorted. “I think I would have better luck with that.”

“Oh?” Suzu blinked at her. “Then perhaps I could be your sidepiece, and you can be Duchess Manaka’s. Share the wealth, Miss Court Pharmacist.”

Coloring slightly, Shirayuki looked away, prim. “Isn’t it time you stopped calling me that? We’ve been at Lyrias for two years now, you know.”

“I did notice,” Suzu admitted, voice dry. “But --”

The hesitation was enough to have Shirayuki turning back. Suzu wasn’t one for second guessing his words.

“Weren’t you planning on leaving us all behind and heading to Wilant to be Court Pharmacist?” There was a curious tilt to Suzu’s mouth, one Shirayuki didn’t know how to read.

“It’s not as though it’s far,” she whispered. “It’s not as though --”

“You’ll forget us, left behind amidst the dusty research shelves. Moving on to better, grander things.”

The way he said it -- a brittle quality hidden behind airy distance -- had Shirayuki’s heart hammering in her chest. Unease, or excitement; irritation and fondness. “I won’t,” she declared, catching Suzu’s gaze and holding it. “I would never. I cherish all of you too much. We’ve been through too much. You’ll always be my precious friends.”

“Friends,” Suzu murmured, head tilting toward her curiously. “I’m not your friend, Shirayuki.”

“I...what?”

Suzu took her goblet and his and set it on the ground at their feet, the cape rustling. Shirayuki caught the edge of it before it could quite escape and gripped it, hard, confused. She had thought -- but of course they were friends. How could he say something like that? Even Suzu couldn’t be so --

When Suzu turned back toward her, he was entirely too close, leaning over her in a way that pressed her back against the wall, that blocked the starry sky and seemed to muffle the sounds of the party carrying on inside. Hesitant, he tapped his fingers against her jaw, before withdrawing his hand.

“I don’t think,” he reasoned out of nowhere, “that kissing is that big of a deal.”

“What,” Shirayuki exhaled, starting to get annoyed, “is going on? What do you mean we’re not friends? I thought --”

“You should let me kiss you,” Suzu interjected.

It certainly interrupted Shirayuki’s irritation, her brain suddenly as still as the world in winter, quiet and frozen. He -- kissing. He wanted --

“I thought I looked -- weird,” Shirayuki whispered, oddly breathless. This close Suzu’s eyes were nearly too much, clear and bright as the moon on snow, staring at her as if he might take her apart just to see how she worked.

“I only meant,” he murmured, leaning closer. His gloved hand returned, more confident this time; firm, drawing her in. “That I prefer you as you usually are.”

“Oh.”

“Back to the kissing,” Suzu said, brows arching hopefully. “It really is a shame you’ve only been kissed by a prince. How are you to know what you like if your sample size is only that? We should rectify it. For science.”

Shirayuki’s breath was coming faster, little stuttering inhales and exhales. Suzu’s thigh was firm against hers beneath the cloak, a source of sizzling heat. “For -- ah, science?”

“Sure,” he said. “If you want it to be.”

She managed, just barely, to ask: “You would kiss someone who isn’t your friend?”

“I’d kiss anybody,” Suzu admitted. “And it’s -- you’re misunderstanding. I don’t feel about you the same way I feel about Yuzuri, or Obi. I don’t feel friendly with you.”

Licking her lips, Shirayuki felt hot, nervous. “Then... how do you feel? With me?”

An expression shifted across Suzu’s face, a tightness, a glimmer of sharp longing, that Shirayuki barely knew to recognize. But she did, and it caught her breath in her chest, made her hands tremble where they were clenched in velvet. Oh, she thought. So that’s what it means. That’s what I’ve been feeling.

“Lots of things,” Suzu said, lips brushing just barely against Shirayuki’s. “Awful, annoying, incessant things. I’m going to kiss you now, okay? For science.”

“Sure,” Shirayuki whispered. “If you want it to be. But you can -- you, uh --”

“Mm,” Suzu’s hand slid back into her hair, and her eyes fluttered shut. “I can what?”

How was he so obtuse, she wondered, but she couldn’t get angry. It wasn’t as though she had done much better. Words felt too awkward, her emotions spinning, wild, as everything she had thought she understood revealed new meaning. As Suzu gained new meaning. And --

Annoyed at her own idiocy, Shirayuki opened her eyes, angled her head, and kissed him in the moonlight, in the cold and the dark, while the crowds inside danced and cheered, passed kisses like favors amongst the throngs. Suzu kissed her like a question, a curious, hungry glide of lips and tongue, a nip of teeth; and he kissed her like an answer, a humming moan as he pressed into her, the greedy clench of his fingers tangled in her hair.

Even through their finery she could feel his heart beat fit to burst from his chest, matching the erratic, hungry, startled pace of her own.

When he pulled back, dragging in air, his eyes searched hers, brows quirking. “In case you’re still confused: I’m out here because the only one I want to kiss anymore is you, you know.”

“Yes,” Shirayuki gasped, flushed and embarrassed, confused but pleased. “I -- sort of gathered. Uhm. Shall we -- ah, would you like --”

“Yep,” Suzu agreed, and dipped down to kiss her again.

[zacekova]

Akagami no Shirayukihime Dragon Companion AU compilation

Okay, guys. This is getting really long and I don’t regret a thing. 

This is a collection of a bunch of ideas and images from a thread on the Obiyuki discord that we’ve tossed around about an ANS AU where dragons exist. I’ve had some thoughts since then and have added my ideas to the list, but there are still a lot of blank spaces and room for expansion. 

I’m listing any ANS writers/artists who have said they want to create content for any of these. PLEASE feel free to send me pictures, ideas, suggestions, alterations, questions, etc. Literally anything you can think of, anonymously or otherwise. I’ll post the asks and let it go a few rounds in the ANS fandom to see what ideas most of us seem to like best and add them to this master post. 

I hope this monstrous thing serves as inspiration for some of you and is good, wholesome fun for the rest of us. 

Dragons are immortal creatures that have existed since the dawn of time and come in many shapes and sizes. Most are hundreds to thousands of years old and females and babies are rare. They choose To live among humans as lifelong companions and friends, finding a new companion after the previous has died. 

(Note: Dragon’s age the equivalent of about 1 year to every 7 that passes through infancy to adulthood. Once they reach maturity - around 200 years of age - they cease maturing and can live indefinitely, so far as we are aware. Some species never stop growing, some do.) 

Shirayuki’s 

Color: Pink 

Size: Pocket (5-10 inches long)

Age: 250

Personality: Angry. Snaps and hisses at people, particularly Raj and his dragon or anyone who tries to touch her hair. Hides out in Shirayuki’s pockets and hoods - and under her hair, when it was long. 

History: Gets into fights frequently despite his small size, so his face is rather smashed and mangled. Shirayuki still thinks he’s lovely. 

Hoard: Insults and colorful stones 

Writers/Artists: 

Zen’s 

Color: White 

Size: 3 feet tall 

Age: 800 years 

Personality: Dopey and friendly. Drools a lot. Excitable. Runs around the castle knocking things over and making a nuisance of himself. Taught Zen how to climb the castle walls. Probably snores. And chases his tail, among other things. 

History: 

Hoard: Feathers and leaves 

Writers/Artists: 

Obi’s 

Color: Yellow 

Size: Pocket (12-15 inches long). No wings. 

Age: 537

Personality: Flirtatious and clever but also kind of grumpy. Holds grudges over little things and likes to tease. Once hid inside Obi’s pants while Obi was sleeping because she was cold but Obi’s reaction in the morning was so hilarious she does it just to mess with him now. 

History: A huge influence on the development of Obi’s personality - he used to be sullen and quiet but she was so annoying he had to learn to retaliate. 

Hoard: Scarves (they’re warm.) 

Writers/Artists: 

Ryuu’s 

(After growth spurt)

Color: Green, furred. 

Size: Still growing. 

Age: 84 (developmentally the same age as Ryuu) 

Personality: Venomous. 

History: 

Hoard: 

Writers/Artists: 

Mitsuhide’s 

Color: Dark blue 

Size: 6 feet tall 

Age: 871

Personality: Lazy. Very lazy. Sleeps everywhere on anything all the time. Is very strong and helpful but you have to get him up first. Rests his head on Mitsuhide’s shoulder when he’s awake and gives headbutts as a sign of his affection. 

History: 

Hoard: Sunny, cozy alcoves and rocks 

Writers/Artists: 

Kiki’s

Color: Iridescent purple and blue 

Size: 10 feet tall 

Age: 2,332

Personality: Regal, pompous, vain. A beautiful dragon and he knows it but secretly angry about his “smaller” size. Thinks dragons like Izana’s are “excessively large,” and is quite vocal about it. Likes Kiki because she is strong and beautiful and doesn’t take crap from anyone but that’s where their similarities end. 

History: 

Hoard: Reflective surfaces (constantly hounding Kiki to pull out her sword so he can make sure there’s nothing stuck in his teeth).

Writers/Artists:  

Izana’s 

Color: White 

Size: 30 feet tall 

Age: Unknown 

Personality: Ancient and wise, but secretive. Arrogant, disdainful, cold. Has little tolerance for younger dragons. Doesn’t care for weak and stupid people, either, but he finds them amusing all the same. Izana ends up becoming a rare exception; the young King is clever enough to appeal to this dragon’s interests and he ends up begrudgingly fond and protective of Izana after a few years. 

History: 

Hoard: Clarines kingdom (is the companion of the king or the king’s heir exclusively). 

Writers/Artists: 

Zakura’s 

Color: Black 

Size: 12 feet tall 

Age: 942 

Personality:

History: 

Hoard:

Writers/Artists: 

Haruka’s 

Color: Gold 

Size: 8 feet tall 

Age: 2,800 

Personality: Prideful and inquisitive. Spends a lot of his time reading or traveling. 

History:  Is a companion to Haruka’s family more than Lord Haruka himself, and is the biggest reasons for their wealth and standing in Clarines. 

Hoard: Books and maps. 

Writers/Artists: 

Garrack’s 

Color: Red  Size: Age: Personality: History: Hoard: Writers/Arists:

Yuzuri’s 

Color: Red and orange 

Size: 20 feet tall 

Age: 400 

Personality: Suspicious, protective. Hot tempered and can be violent and malicious if her companion or friends are in danger. 

History: 

Hoard:

Writers/Artists: 

Suzu’s 

Color: Yellow 

Size: 2 feet long 

Age: 250 

Personality: Relaxed and lazy but very curious. Likes to lay on Suzu’s head or shoulder and read along with him while Suzu researches and asks a lot of questions until falling asleep again. Drives Yuzuri’s dragon crazy by napping on her neck just high enough that she can’t reach to nip his tail. 

History: 

Hoard: Pencils and pin cushions (the latter makes excellent pillows) 

Writers/Artists: 

Shidan’s 

Color: Brown 

Size: 8 inches 

Age: 1,863 

Personality: Dead without the canonverse’s version of coffee. Cranky and prickly and critical but secretly fond of almost everyone. 

History: 

Hoard: Coffee. All the coffee. 

Writers/Artists: 

Lata’s 

Color: Black. 

Size: 3 inches 

Age: 5 

Personality: Cheerful and curious and playful. Still just a baby. 

History: Lata had never had a dragon companion before. He happened to be out in a cave hunting for stones when he stumbled across a hatching dragon. She took a liking to him despite his panicked protests that he has no idea how to take care of a baby. He does a great job not matter how much he complains and she absolutely adores him. 

Hoard: Fruits and berries. She hasn’t figured out yet why they keep disappearing (Lata eats them before they go bad). 

Writers/Artists: 

Kirito’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Haki’s 

Color: White 

Size: 10 feet tall 

Age: 1,958

Personality: Wise and clever. Offers quiet council and advice but only when the person would not be better served by figuring it out themselves. 

History: 

Hoard: 

Writers/Artists: 

Makiri’s 

Color: Grey 

Size:15 feet tall 

Age: Unkown. 

Personality:

History: 

Hoard:

Writers/Arists: 

Raj’s 

Color: Reddish pink 

Size: 6 inches 

Age: 702 

Personality: 

History:

Hoard: Coins 

Writers/Arists:

Rona’s 

Color: 

Size: 

Age: 

Personality: 

History:

Hoard: 

Writers/Arists:

Eugena’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Sakaki’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Mihaya’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Mukaze’s

Color: Brown and Green 

Size: Unknown 

Age:Unknown 

Personality: Slow and steady as a mountain. Old and wise and infinitely kind. Adopts pretty much everyone on the mountain as his children. Fearsome when angered. 

History:

Hoard: People 

Writers/Arists: superhappybubbles 

Itoya’s

Color: Grey 

Size: 12 feet tall

Age: 1,442

Personality: Quiet and serious. Contemplative. Likes to sit outside and watch nature, watch the sun and moon and stars cross the sky, the water flow in the river, the birds and creatures go about their days. Patient and stubborn as stone. 

History: 

Hoard: 

Writers/Arists: 

Kazuki’s 1st 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History: Umihebi killed Kazuki’s first dragon, something considered impossible before. Kazuki rarely talks about it. Umihebi became more power hungry, greedy, and arrogant than ever before. 

Hoard:

Writers/Arists: superhappybubbles 

Kazuki’s 2nd 

Color: Brownish green. 

Size: 24 inches long 

Age: 23 

Personality: Cheerful. Kinda dopey. Very clumsy. Basically a fearless but accident-prone little kid who wind Kazuki over by being ridiculously chirpy and lighthearted and giving Kazuki’s concerned and protective spirit one too many heart attacks by walking obliviously into danger. 

History:

Hoard: Flowers and acorns 

Writers/Arists: superhappybubbles 

Umihebi’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Kihal’s

Color: Blue and green, exotic in appearance. 

Size: 2 feet long

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard: Snail shells 

Writers/Arists:

Hisame’s 

Color: Dark grey 

Size: 15 feet tall 

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Touka’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Tsuruba and Tariga’s 

Color: Dark grey 

Size: 10 feet tall 

Age: 470 

Personality: 

History: Touka chained him down as a punishment to the twins once after they had made a mistake. The first thing they do after Touka dies is run back to release him. 

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Shuuka’s 

Color: Black 

Size: 15 inches 

Age: 72 

Personality: Rambunctious and curious. Explores in the walls and crevices of the fort and eats the mice and rats. Hangs upside-down from the rafters to sleep. Likes to roll around and bat at people’s feet while they’re trying to walk. Basically a cat, but cuter. 

History:

Hoard: Arrowheads. Two (2) mice or one (1) rat can be traded for one intact arrowhead, should the need arise. 

Writers/Arists:

Shiira’s 

Color: Orange 

Size: 4 inches 

Age: 608

Personality: A total moron. Look at that face, c’mon. He likes to climb trees and eat fruit. He screeches extremely loud with a raspy, grating tone to get Shiira’s attention, which he absolutely loathes, and gnaws on literally everything. And then just when Shiira is ready to wring his neck, he falls asleep on Shiira’s lap curled up in a tiny ball and snuffling/nuzzling at Shiira’s belly. 

History:

Hoard: He seems to think every chair and bed in existence belongs to him. You got up to go get a drink? Too bad, he stole it. You want to go to sleep? Well, looks like he’s camped out right in the center and how could you possibly stand to wake something that adorable? 

Writers/Arists:

Kai’s 

Color: Unknown 

Size: Unknown 

Age: N/A 

Personality: Unknown 

History: Someone gave him the egg as a gift. My shipping heart wants to say Shiira, but I don’t think a lowly gate guard could afford a dragon egg. 

Hoard: Unknown 

Writers/Arists:

Haruto’s 

Color: Purplish blue 

Size: 5 feet tall 

Age: 924

Personality: Happy and sweet. Likes to lick Haruto’s hand and nuzzle her side. Curls around whatever chair she sits in. 

History:

Hoard: Pearls 

Writers/Arists:

Yatsufusa’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Higata’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Earl Seiran’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Torou’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Atri’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

[sabraeal]

Shidan, Lata, Haruka

Okay, okay. Slow burn Lata. Like come on, come on. He would 100% be into his research. It wouldn’t be so much a seduction as a siege. You would be his newly hired assistant, foisted on him my the university, wanting to strangle him but also strangely drawn to his intellect. You have intense library sex. He inherits his father’s lands and you spend the rest of your days being eccentric nobles by the sea.

Fake date Shidan. You’re his colleague. He needs a date to a wedding. You’re trying to make Garrack jealous. You’re probably going to have highly inappropriate and hot yet awkward sex in a semi-public place during the reception. Garrack may or may not catch you, but she literally does not care, and by that point neither do you.

Enemies to lovers Haruka. You’re a widow taking her husband’s place on the council. You oppose every one of his ideas, at a certain point just because he voiced them. He urges you to remarry, and you know it’s an insult. Something something common enemy, you have to work together, you don’t have sex before marriage, and he kisses you for the first time when he finally, angrily asks you to marry him because he can’t live without you.