#and not the failure of being unable to do his task but the much more insidious dissatisfaction with everything he does

[didsomeonesayventus]

god do i think so much about how alear got the worst parent wombo combo in the god damn world where one of them established unreasonable expectations on themselves + made them a people pleasing sort, then other unfortunately deeply reinforced it

[descendant-of-truth]

While I'm of the opinion that the Re:Coded movie that's in all the collections generally does a better job at giving you all the relevant cutscenes than the Days movie, after playing through the DS game myself, I still think it's a shame how much they left out. Notably, the Castle Oblivion section is... extremely nerfed in the movie.

See, when Roxas tells Sora that he can do whatever he wants when talking to the illusions from his past, he means it. You, the player, are presented with different tasks that come with multiple dialogue options, and there are three possible endings for every "world" you enter. You get a different Ending Card depending on how you act; a Normal Card, an Alternate Card, and an Extra Card.

In the movie, instead of providing you with any kind of choose-your-own-adventure routes that lead to different cutscenes, they just. vaguely animate everyone talking silently to each other, and then have the illusions fade away. Which I think loses a lot of the intrigue, but it also means that relatively few people in the fanbase have even seen any of these routes.

I won't go over every single one because that can easily be done by looking them up on YouTube, but I do want to bring up one route in specific because it's really stuck with me ever since - Wonderland's Extra Ending.

So, in Wonderland, you're presented with a series of dilemmas:

Alice can't remember her name

The White Rabbit drops his pocket watch

The Cheshire cat gives you a riddle that requires you to choose the correct box or else fight a Heartless waiting in the wrong ones

One card soldier asks you to deliver a potion to a second card soldier for him

A third card soldier is weakened and woozy

You get the Normal Ending by doing at least one of these tasks correctly, the Alternate Ending by doing all of them correctly, and the Extra Ending by doing everything wrong.

In order to get the Extra Ending, you must:

Tell Alice that she's the Queen of Hearts

Pick up the White Rabbit's watch (causing Sora to lose sight of him, unable to return it; you're supposed to just tell him where it is)

Give up on the Cheshire Cat's riddle

Give the potion to the third, weakened card soldier, instead of its intended recipient (it turns out he was just hungry, not injured, so you didn't help him. the second card soldier would have given you a sandwich)

No matter what you do, at the end of each route, the Queen of Hearts will grab your attention and accuse you of being the thief who stole her memory. She'll try to back it up with proof, and even when you've done everything right (which she acknowledges), she still concludes with an "off with your head!" which Sora implicitly runs away from, ending the world's story.

Except for in the Extra Ending.

After she recaps everything you've done wrong up to that point, she drops this dialogue that I haven't been able to stop thinking about:

Queen of Hearts: "Don't tell me you were trying to be NICE? Cheering that girl up by telling her she was important? Giving things away because you thought someone else needed them more? Trying to... to own up to your failures!? Bah! Go on! Off with you!" Data Sora: "Not 'off with my head'?" Queen of Hearts: The punishment must match the crime! See how YOU like having something NICE done to you!"

It's hard to describe what it was about this that's still so striking to me months later, but it's just... kind of off-putting, in a way?

Having the Queen of Hearts choose to spare you as a "more fitting punishment" is out of character enough already, but the fact that it's the consequence to you actually doing everything wrong makes it feel all the more pointed. This is somehow supposed to be worse than being beheaded, and it kind of works, because it feels so much more personal than her usual schtick.

And it exists in such an isolated incident, too. The level is completed immediately after this dialogue, and nothing else is changed by getting it, it's just. there.

At the same time, everything about it feels so deliberate that I can't help but feel like it either is or will be relevant elsewhere somehow. It could just be overanalyzing on my part, but the first thing that comes to mind is actually that the Queen's final line could parallel the consequence of Sora misusing the Power of Waking?

He did so for a good cause, after all, but it wasn't what he was supposed to do. He broke a taboo of nature in the process. But his punishment isn't a straightforward death; he's just put somewhere else, somewhere he can't see his friends. "Off with you," the universe says, "see how you like having something nice done to you!"

...but that doesn't really feel like it's getting to the heart of the matter, which is that Data Sora did not need to do any of this. He could have told Alice her real name, on account of it being the default dialogue option, and he could have tried to figure out what was wrong with that card soldier before giving away stuff that wasn't his. He could have tried a little harder at the riddle. These were all fairly low-stakes situations - in particular, he really didn't need to lie to Alice.

The original Sora didn't have much of a choice in what he did. It was either lose his powers and vanish, or leave Kairi shattered and functionally dead. You can't really say he made the wrong decision, or did something immoral for a superficial reason.

So then... will this line remain an isolated slap in the face to completionist DS players, or will there be more to it? Is there already more to it that I'm missing? Where's our parallel to Data Sora "cheering that girl up by telling her she was important"? What are we supposed to make of "see how you like having something nice done to you"?

What does it all mean???

(In conclusion: go check out the DS versions of these cutscenes, they're great)

[milkbobatyun]

memories of the past

pairing: jingyuan x reader

genre: angst

summary: longevity is a blessing and a curse. if only he could spend a second more with you, he would be content.

word count: 1.4k

a/n: a sequel to fireworks and red packets that no one asked for but i wanted to do cus i saw a tiktok that gave me an idea i couldn't get out of my head heheheheh hope you enjoy this ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊.

they were not blood related, but they were family. Jingyuan, the dozing general of the xianzhou. yanqing, his trusted little aid, saved from the barren and bloodied battlefields. [name], the reliable and skilled secretary, who meant much more than that to the general and his foster son. mimi, the comforting murder machine who killed with her deceptive feline charm. together, they were the symbol of love, of relationship ideals and found family.

the xiaozhou mourned the loss of their beloved feline mascot when she passed. memorabilia was sold in her memory and honour. keychains, plushies and figurines adorned every xianzhou child's bed, bag and desk. though many thousands of years had passed, countless long life species were still not accustomed to the sight of a jingyuan without his dutiful lion.

new year festivals and other grand events were highly anticipated, but the locals always felt a piece of the familial image was mission when they didn’t see mimi being carried like a baby, back to their abode by her servant jingyuan.

the family of four has now become three.

as many arduous years dragged on, the curse of immortality and its burdens eroded away at the mind of the great dozing general. many sought to acquire and tame immortality, but alas they do not know the burden that weighs down on the shoulders of long-life beings. 

when the curse of mara was beginning to take its toll on you, you stepped down from your role, instead appointing fu xuan as your protege.

jingyuan spent many sleepless nights holed up in the archives of the xianzhou. he had helplessly watched his master succumb to the fate, he would not stand idly and be a bystander to his beloved’s suffering.

night after night, shelf after shelf, remedy after remedy, jingyuan scoured the notes left by his predecessors, fuelled by the flame of hope burning in his heart.

with every book tossed aside, every failed recipe poured down the sink, guilt lay heavy on his chest. he didn’t have the heart to see you, lest you were disappointed by his incompetence. thus, yanqing was tasked with cooking your medicine, helping you drink it to lessen the pain and alleviate your suffering.

in the late evenings, jingyuan would tread lightly into your room, drawing a seat by your side. every night, he was accompanied by the ghost of his failures and past friends. shadows lined the underside of his eyes, hair tousled and messy, no longer in its pristine up-do. he picked up the damp cloth, left on the edge of the tub, a permanent feature to your bedside table. with gentle hands, he dabs away at the sheen of cold sweat upon your forehead. nowadays, your angelic face was often creased in a frown of discomfort and pain.

as day faded into night, weeks faded into months, jingyuan’s old friends, hopelessness and helplessness, tightened their harsh fingers around his throat and heart, rendering him breathless. he couldn’t lose you too.

jingyuan rarely sleeps now. when he closes his eyes, he is haunted by phantoms of his past. jingliu, his master. she blames him for not helping to heal her of her ailments. dan feng, his old friend, cursing him for his betrayal.

worst of all, he sees you. jingyuan can only watch with wide eyes and a still body as you fade into nothing but skin and bone, while you lay in your bed, skin ashen and dull. sometimes, you are merciful, merely a silent ghost standing at the foot of his bed. other nights, you scream and curse him for being unable to save you. every night, jingyuan wakes in a cold sweat, his heart hammering in his throat, the distinct taste of tears on his tongue.

one morning, jingyuan is awoken from his night vigil by the gentle rustle of silken sheets, slender, bony fingers intertwining his. you are awake, life filling your eyes. your cheeks blush with the gentle rouge of natural colour and skin glowing with joy. 

jingyuan breathed your name gently, as though he can barely believe you are awake. the beautiful melodic laugh that he missed so much filled his ears. like a thirsty man who discovered an oasis in the desert, jingyuan drank in the music. a miracle, this was. immediately, jingyuan sent for both the doctor and yanqing.

a flash of blue and yellow shot through the door, as swift and lithe as a sparrow. with a pounce and a creak of the bed, yanqing had snuggled his way into your warm embrace.

“you’re awake,” he laughed, cheeks pink with delight.

“i’m awake.” you affirmed with a gentle smile, voice slightly hoarse from disuse.

jingyuan watched with a soft smile as you and yanqing discussed animatedly. you promised with linked pinkies that you would watch the next wardance and have the honours of being his coach. leaning close to his ear, you promised two beautifully handcrafted precious swords for his birthday, and a generous sum of red packet money next year. 

with shifty eyes and a sly smile, the two of you whispered close to each others ears, feigning innocence when jingyuan raises a suspicious eyebrow at the two of you. he doesn’t need to know that the two of you are plotting to steal his wallet again. jingyuan inwardly sighs at all these promises. it seems his budge will be tight for the next lunar new year.

with a bright smile and cheery wave, you bid farewell to jingyuan and yanqing. they wanted to stay for longer, but the sun was high in the sky and they both had their respective duties to tend to. neither of them noticed the grim shadow cast over the doctor’s face.

the setting sun dyed the blue, cloudless sky a crimson red as jingyuan finalised his duties for the day. as he organised his final few documents, the door is flung open and one of the servants who attend to you burst into his room.

“relax,” jingyuan chuckled, his mood bolster by the thought of seeing you healthy when he returned home. “someone would’ve thought that someone had died, with the amount of drama you caused just then.”

the servant paled. “my lord,” they stuttered, skin clammy with cold sweat, tongue and heart leadened with the dread of his next words “secretary [name] has passed.”

grief and shock pour over jingyuan like an icy bucket. 

“no,” he laughs bitterly, staggering against the table, “that’s not possible.”

regaining his footing, jingyuan shakes the messenger by the shoulders.

“this is just a cruel prank, a tasteless joke, right?” he cries. solemnly the servant shakes his head.

the family of three has reduced to two lonely souls, relying on each other for comfort.

the wardance comes and goes. without his honoured coach by his side, yanqing finds it hard to muster up the cheerful energy to meet the audience. however, he must play the role of the ‘youngest lieutenant on the xianzhou’ and showcase the xianzhou’s skill to the visitors from the other planets.

despite his win, when yanqing stands shoulder to shoulder with luka, tears prickle his eyeline. how he wishes you could be by his side, witnessing this rare scene. closing his eyes, yanqing raises his face to the sky, praying on every star watching over him that you could see him, from wherever you are. imagining your proud smile and comforting embrace, yanqing’s heart is warm, yet a bittersweet smile adorns his face.

it is the lunar new year once again. the streets are sombre with sorrow. locals dip their heads in sympathy when they see the general and his aide, wandering down the street. 

within a short period of time (by xianzhou long-life specie standards), the general’s family lost two important members. the once lively family was quiet, their cheer dampened by their loss.

the streets were no longer filled with the joyous teasing of their beloved secretary and the exasperated groans from jingyuan, as he watched with a broken heart as you spoiled yanqing with his hard-earned money.

instead, the chiming laughter of locals and the general’s family mingling as they witnessed the scene of jingyuan babying a ferociously large kitten lion faded into distant memories, immortalised through stories, told by locals to curious tourists and rowdy children, in hopes that those precious memories of the ones they lost could live on.

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobatyun 2025 / づ ♡

[sevs-corner]

Random HCs I have for the Tf 141: Mafia AU! characters :PP

for future plot points hehe

Ghost is a cat person but only came to love dogs because of Johnny adopting Riley and him ending up raising it for most of the time

On the other hand, Graves hates cats and hates you for taking care of the chonky white cat at the alleyway by the bakery (He also hates that you take care of it more than you do with him, like c'mon he wants to be fed by you too)

All of them are boy failures when they try courting you, and you try your best to reciprocate !! (but sometimes that there's so silly and trip over their own shoelaces that its too cute not to stand and watch sometimes)

Those big scary men being love sick fools

They definitely get slack for it from Nonna and Nonno

The two (Ghost and Graves) have the biggest sweet tooth actually, and then run through the entire stock of treats whenever they stop by but are unable to sit and eat

Ever since you started working regularly, the guys try to stop by as often as they can, which makes Nonno and Nonna happy (becuase they were drifting further away until you came)

Only Price, Ghost, Soap, and Gaz visit often even before you came but even that became harder to do as time went on

So, Nonno and Nonna likes spoiling you with food because of it (not like you knew the intention behind their actions, you were just happy to eat free food really)

Price and Johnny is the type to just drink coffee in the morning then go about their day, only eating meals once or twice

They aren't the biggest eaters, even though Johnny does more physically laboring tasks

But he's more of a protein shake kinda guy, the type to drink his meal if all of it can be blended (he couldn't be bothered to prep his own meals)

Gaz, on the other hand, needs his meals

So he ends up dragging Ghost along with him in the mornings at the bakery for the breakfast special

Ghost doesn't really care to have anything in the morning 'cause his appetite kicks in (for some reason) late at night, so that's when he eats a lot

Alejandro is a 3-in-1 coffee drinker and Rudy is appalled

Even more so at you as you encourage this behavior by making his sachet 3-in-1s fancy with all the extra foam and drawings on top (he's jealous)

Rudy is a plain black kinda guy, but will try anything you offer or have concocted with (he's just a test dummy for your experiments but he's happy being your dummy either way)

Graves loves lattes, hot or iced- you already know what he's feeling for depending how he strolls into the bakery

If he's a bit downtrodden, he needs a cold pick-me-up, but if he's hyper and needs a bit of a cold down? that hot one would be very much appreciated

He also isn't the type to eat a lot, but will scarf down anything you make (he would never decline any of your offers or experiments)

The one who gives you the best critique to your creations is Gaz, Rudy, and Ghost actually-- straightforward, gut-punched, but points of improvement all the same

Graves and Soap sugar coats too much, Alejandro gives simple praises (not wanting to make you hurt for commenting on your hard work) and Price...

Well, a simple nod and smile is enough to make you happy that he doesn't get the chance to as you prance away in happiness

>Bonus part:

Konig and Horangi loves your savory treats, like those quiches, tarts, pies-- everything, the whole menu!

Just send them a picture of your creation and they're quickly finishing off a guy and bookin' it to the bakery in no time

Konig likes the space (table) you saved for them at the side, a bit secluded but still in view of both entraces

He knows you keep it clean, with their favorite condiments stacked to the side, seats fluffed and cushioned, table clear of any food residue-- every. single. time.

Konig also like your personal favorites of treats as well (makes him feel closer to you somehow)

But draws the line at your weird concoctions of combines drinks he's not quite fond of (like that coffee and soda mix? yeah, he did not want to get palpitations thank you very much)

Horangi is one of the few who ready and willing to try out anything you dish out

Even that special energy drink you tried making for Soap once, and let's just say that he couldn't sleep soundly for a week...

He doesn't regret it though, when he sees your gummy grin and tiny hops that you do when you get excited

Maybe...next time...just lower the dosage for his sanity, please?

Alex and Farah are a duo you don't quite see often but wished you did!

Alex pops by at least once or twice a week to pick up his orders, but more often than not, you're delivering their orders to their HQ

Barely having the chance to eat with them makes you sad (they are too), but when you guys do-- you go on for hours

Gossiping is the main source of Farah's entertainment and why both also avoid doing it with you

Because, one time, they went on for hours that lunch became dinner and that became a sleep over

And they had to catch up on so much work

Yeah, they're both yappers

and they indulge you and your interest so much, that they're mainly the ones getting you the things you like and it being displayed in your room

You like that one movie with cars in it? Boom, you have the same race car as a bed

Roach actually helps around more than anyone in the family

Even though he's handling the back more, you sure as damn well know he makes the best food ever

He's sometimes with the 141 guys or KorTac duo, but either way-- you'd seen him come alone to the bakery a lot

Being his ear and shoulder when he needs it, but vice versa as well

the usual culprit that overstays at your apartment really (which makes the others rage)

Roach is the happiest when he sees you eating his food happily, so don't blame him when you become a lil' plump (you're cute either way and he'll definitely lessen it if you ask him to)

Makarov visits the least but always does the grandest of things (he's extra like that)

Surprisingly, Nikolai is tied to hip with him whenever he comes in (he keeps Makarov in check really)

And they either visit super early in the morning or late into closing that sometimes you come in early or close out late just so you could do something for them

they don't want you forcing yourself like this but they appreciate you very much

Makarov and Nikolai loves spicy food, or food that just gives them a kick in the mouth and they love how you adjust it to their taste the best

They are more of tea and beer drinkers really

Water? The tap is dry and so they are

So you have to force them to drink it in between

And that's the moment they leave and try to escape

Just so you know, you have chased them down the street before in nothing but your flip flops and you still caught up to them (not before accurately hitting them on the head with it)

Kate, Allen, and Ramirez often come in together as well, a quick order-in and a pick up thereafter

They're busy with the reconnaissance work but likes making light banter with you

Some scones, mini brownies, or any quick bite- they'll have it and compliment for your hard work

Allen likes his coffee half and half while Ramirez likes it in shots, he needs his bursts of energy being the 'designated' errand boy of the two after all

Kate on the hand, has a jug of tea (you swear) but often takes two to three cups for herself (which you happened to learn was actually all hers once you asked a confused Allen about it one morning)

And yeah, that it (thought it'd be neat to see what i can come up with for their food and treat preferences hehe) Please check out the chapters and other one-shots here in this masterlist!

[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

You'll Never Learn

Simon "Ghost" Riley X John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny could feel his heart slowly crack in his chest as he stared back at Simon, lips parted as he struggled to come back down into his own body.

a/n: ahhhhh! I'm finally writing and posting again! i deeply apologize for basically not posting in forever but writers block and depression hit together, this was heavily inspired and also partially written(via our texts lol)by @gaylemonshark so i hope you all enjoy! tw: mentions of abuse, heartbreak, no happy ending

Johnny wasn’t an idiot, he’d always known he could talk for longer than anyone cared to listen. It was a habit he’d been unable to break since childhood. He understood why he did it as a child, chattering away about his newest obsession to his Ma as if she were actually listening to him for once.

She snapped on him for the first time when he was just over five years old. Her face nearly beet red as she yelled and screamed about how ‘he’d never shut his trap! Always yapping her damn ear off’.

Johnny learned not to talk to his mother much after that, instead turning his focus over to his father. He liked helping him whenever the car needed fixing, or even when he’d sit down with some whiskey. His fathers anger was scarier, the shattered glass on the floor a reminder of his failures.

“Do ye ever stop talkin’?! Aye, I feel like you don’ even listen anymore!”

Johnny stopped talking much after that, only answering when it became necessary. It didn’t matter if he was surrounded by his closest friends, or his family. 

He’d learned early on that no one would ever want to listen to him talk, so why waste his breath?

It was easier being in the military, having to keep his mouth shut unless absolutely necessary. No one needed to listen to his stupid stories, what good would it even do?

When he’d been chosen for the task force, keeping his head held high as his new captain, John Price, introduced him to the team. 

They’re just your teammates, they’re not your friends.

The words ran through his mind like a mantra, a subtle reminder that he couldn’t let himself get close to them. Sure, they made him feel welcome and like he was more than just a part of the team.

It’s all lies, Johnny. Don’t fall for their tricks, they’ll abandon you just like everyone else.

He’d need to at least be friendly with the team, lest they worry and think he’s a rat. Last time that happened he’d nearly been discharged. His Pa would’ve had his hide if that happened.

It started out innocent enough, enjoying a pint with everyone, the scent of beer and smoke filling the air. The lines around Simon’s eyes deepened with every laugh. 

Shit, shit, shit, shit!

Damnit! He’d been doing so good lately, keeping his nose down and ignoring any feelings that could come up. Lord knows his father was ready to beat him black and blue when he’d found out he liked men.

Johnny had wailed, told his father he still liked women as well. It just landed him in the army so he’d be able to finally escape the abuse. No one needed to know about that, he didn’t need their pity.

Unfortunately, Johnny was never good at listening to his own advice.

The first time he’d spent the night in Simon’s bed, he was sure that he’d met Jesus. His legs shook from the aftershocks of the intense four orgasms that Simon had forced out of him. He claimed it was a one time thing, assuring himself it wouldn’t happen again.

Until it did.

The second time wasn’t as rushed, they took their touch exploring the other's body, searing kisses lingering long after they’d fallen asleep. The taste of smoke and liquor was heavy on his tongue, though the faintness of Simon lingered in the back of his throat.

Johnny could deny it no longer when they continued to fall into bed together, finally admitting to himself the feelings he had for the bigger man. One time was an accident, two times was simply his own fault.

It took too long for him to begin to open up, telling Simon little things about himself here and there. How his mother always made the best bread, or how both him and his sister broke the same arm at the same age. The conversations were kept to a minimum, Johnny refusing to talk Simon’s ear off and annoy the other man. Worry creeped up along the back of his neck each time they began a conversation.

It didn’t matter how many times Simon said how he liked hearing Johnny talk, or the lovestruck gaze on his face as Johnny told him silly childhood stories. None of it mattered, he wouldn’t let Simon hurt him the way everyone else in his life had. Hell, he’d refused to even open up to his Captain or the other Sergeant in the task force, his Lieutenant wouldn’t be any different.

Johnny, why don’t you let Simon see you for who you truly are? What’s the worst that could happen?

As the months slowly turned into years, Johnny’s shell slowly began to crack, their conversations becoming longer as Johnny helped fill the silence. Anyone who knew Simon would know he didn’t like to talk often, so if he truly didn’t mind Johnny’s yapping, then why not?

Their missions went by with ease, Johnny filling the silence when he knew they weren’t in any sort of danger. The conversations were mindless, just a way for them to pass time until they either reached their destination, or were picked up by evac.

In that time, Simon never once complained about Johnny’s lack of filter. Whether it was cracking jokes and telling stories, or simply just talking about the mission at hand. It felt good to finally be seen, to know there was at least one person out there that would simply listen.

The sky was overcast as Johnny sat up in his bed, Simon already up and about for the day so he could get some of the much needed paperwork written up. He debated for a few minutes whether or not he should go and keep Simon company. On one hand he knew how dreadful and boring writing up reports could be, on the other he knew Simon sometimes did them to help ease his mind from their latest mission.

It was an easy mission though, why not see him for a few minutes at least? What’s the harm in seeing your boyfriend?

Nodding to himself, Johnny grabbed some clean clothes and quickly changed, making his way down to Simon’s office where he was typing away. He knocked quietly, softly whispering the other man’s name as he stepped inside the office.

“Come in.” Simon didn’t so much as glance up as Johnny walked inside, shutting the door behind him before heading over to the lone chair on the opposite side of his desk.

“Didn’t know if you wanted any company, I can go if you’d rather be left alone.” Johnny gestured towards the door he’d just walked through, not wanting to impose and anger Simon.

“Y’re fine.” Simon waved him off, almost as if the other man wasn’t really paying attention.

Johnny started on another story from his childhood, one that he hadn’t told anyone, he’d been confident he would take it to his grave, and yet here he was, telling Simon. The words spilled out like word vomit, his lips moving faster than his own brain at that moment. The memories played through his mind like a movie, a reminder of how much his father despised him.

SLAM!

Johnny jumped out of his seat immediately, heart racing as he stared back at Simon on the opposite side of the desk.

“Jesus! Do ya ever shut your goddamn mouth!?” Before Johnny could reply, unsure if he even wanted to, Simon cut him off again. “I swear! All you ever do is talk! I can hardly ‘ear myself think!” Simon’s chest fell and rose harshly, his brow furrowed as the wrinkle between them deepened. “For once in your life, shut the fuck up!” Simon spat harshly, lip pulled back in a snarl.

Johnny could feel his heart slowly crack in his chest as he stared back at Simon, lips parted as he struggled to come back down into his own body. He slowly closed his mouth, jaw hardening as he slowly came to terms with his reality.

It didn’t matter how much someone claimed to love him, he would always need to hide a part of him to be more palatable. No one would ever be able to love John MacTavish the way he deserved.

“I understand, sorry for wasting your time.” Johnny’s words were clipped, tone sharp as he turned and made his way out of Simon’s office before his superior could come to his senses.

Simon watched as Johnny walked out, heart rate slowing until he was calm once more. The harsh reality of his words slowly beginning to sink in. He’d seen how shy Johnny was when he first joined the task force, having assumed that Johnny was just nervous around the other men. His eyes widened in horror as Johnny’s story began to suddenly make sense. 

He never talked about his parents, or his sister, or even any of his friends from when he was younger. Never wanted to talk about anything until Simon told him he liked talking with him, it helped fill the silence.

God, Simon was such an idiot.

He’d destroyed Johnny’s trust in him, and he wasn’t entirely sure he would be able to repair that.

[ask-hws-guam]

Can you see with both your eyes? My brother has eyes with different colors too, but his looks more creepy and he can’t really see with one of them :0

I am able to see with both eyes. As for a story, let me tell you about this huge fish that ate pieces of my land and how the women saved the island!

Åntes na tiempo (a long time ago), the ancestors of the modern day CHamorus came to the Marianas, a mighty race of people. They were called taotaomo’na which means “the people of before.” It is said that the taotaomo’na were giants, very clever and wise, and that they possessed magical powers.

During that time a group of fishermen who fished in Hagåtña Bay noticed that the mouth of the bay was quickly growing larger and larger. They could not understand what was causing it to grow. Similarly, a group of fishermen from Pago noticed that Pago Bay was also growing larger and larger. It seemed that the center of the island was being eaten away on both sides.

The people could no longer ignore what was happening. The land between Hagåtña and Pago was becoming narrower each day. They realized that if this trend continued much longer the island would soon become two separate islands.

A meeting was called to bring together all the wise taotaomo’na. After comparing their observations everyone agreed that something had to be done – and quickly! They realized there must be an answer about what was causing the narrowing center of Guåhan, but unfortunately, no one knew what it was. The group disbanded without knowing quite what to do.

A few days later a Pago fisherman was out early in the morning doing his day’s work when he spotted a giant fish! The fisherman, curious to find out more about the large creature, tried to approach it. As he neared, he saw that it was eating big chunks of land! But when he came even closer the giant fish saw him and quickly swam away.

The fisherman ran to tell everyone about the giant fish that he had seen chewing away at the land in Pago Bay. When they heard his account, the people were outraged and vowed to fend off the giant fish.

Early the next morning all the strong men of Guahan gathered with their weapons and started out on their mission. They were going to stop the giant fish from chewing through the island!

Hagåtña and Pago Bays were filled with canoes of fishermen and others who wanted to help. The men paddled into the bay looking for the terrible fish. Some searched along the coral reef while others looked in the deep ocean outside the reef. The men searched for hours, but no giant fish was seen. As nightfall came everyone returned home filled with disappointment.

The search for the giant island-eating fish continued for many days. Enthusiasm to find it lasted a long time. But no matter how hard the men searched, the fish eluded them.

The news of the failure to find and destroy the giant fish spread from village to village. Some of the young maidens heard the news and were fascinated by the efforts to catch the fish.

The young women talked about the giant fish whenever they gathered to wash their hair and rinse it with fresh water scented with lemons. Their favorite spot to gather for this task was at the Hagåtña Springs. When they finished, the pool would be covered with lemon peels.

One day a young maiden in Pago noticed these same peels floating in Pago Bay. She was puzzled by their appearance. After some thought, she realized that the giant fish must have eaten a hole all the way under the island from Pago Bay to Hagåtña Springs! She told the other maidens, that must be where the giant fish was hiding.

The next day the maidens gathered at the Hagåtña Springs. They were amused the brave, strong men were unable to capture the giant fish. The maidens then decided they would catch the fish themselves. Cutting off their dark tresses, they wove a net with their long black hair. Because their hair had magical powers, they knew their net would have magical powers, too.

While they wove they began to sing. They sang for hours, and as they continued to sing, the net grew larger and larger. Even the giant fish could hear their singing from underwater. Enchanted by the sound of their beautiful voices, the fish swam out from its hiding place to listen to the singing maidens. As the fish approached the mouth of the spring, the maidens drew closer to the fish, still singing and carrying their net of hair. Suddenly they spread their magic net over the spring and dived into the pool, surrounding the fish. The giant fish was trapped and could not escape! In triumph, the maidens then summoned some of the men to help dispose of the giant fish. With their wisdom, magic and beautiful singing, the young maidens had saved Guåhan!

(34/50)

——————-

Sorce for story: https://www.guampedia.com/how-the-young-maidens-saved-guam-folktale/

((Decided to sorta cheat and count these as two individual asks! Don’t judge me!))

[acescorazon]

Title: Changes

Chapter: 12

Rating: M

Word count: 2838

Chapter excerpt:

All of Buggy’s negative emotions quickly overwhelm and consume him. He feels like he’s trapped in a never-ending nightmare, and can’t help but go over his every little interaction with Mihawk and Crocodile. As he wonders where it all went wrong, a series of memories play out in his head like a movie.

|Ch1|Ch2|Ch3|Ch4|Ch5|Ch6|Ch7|Ch8|Ch9|Ch10|Ch11|

Buggy cries until he’s unable to cry anymore and even once his tears dry up, the heavy ache in his chest lingers as he tries to process what just happened between him and Crocodile. Their confrontation from earlier plays in Buggy’s head on an almost endless loop, reminding him of his failure to seize the perfect opportunity to get what he wanted finally. Buggy has wanted a somewhat peaceful life for ages now, yet when the opportunity arose for one, he foolishly turned it away. 

How does that make any sense? 

Buggy doesn’t understand why he couldn’t just accept Crocodile’s apology. It doesn’t matter if Crocodile was or wasn’t being completely sincere. His apology was a chance for them to be on ‘good terms’ at long last, so why did Buggy reject it so quickly?

Crocodile was apologizing and trying to make amends, he was offering to finally put an end to all the bad blood between them, but Buggy had a meltdown and rejected the opportunity to finally be happy. Even if they had a short-lived friendship and Crocodile ended up going back to his old ways a week or two later, Buggy could have still benefited from the situation greatly, but he just… shut everything down and didn’t want to hear anything. 

Buggy can’t help but wonder when he became a man who cares if someone is being honest with him or not. Buggy himself is someone who would lie constantly if he needed to, so why can’t he accept Mihawk and Crocodile’s dumb apologies? Why can’t he forgive and forget, and just allow himself to have a moment of happiness?

All of Buggy’s negative emotions quickly overwhelm and consume him. He feels like he’s trapped in a never-ending nightmare, and can’t help but go over his every little interaction with Mihawk and Crocodile. As he wonders where it all went wrong, a series of memories play out in his head like a movie:

It’s about two weeks or so after the official debut of Cross Guild, and the island is a lot more lively now that  Crocodile and Mihawk (and, of course, Daz) are around. The three men are all the residents of Emptee Bluffs Island can talk about these days, well that, as well as the formation of Cross Guild.�� 

Buggy seems to be the only one terrified that the two former warlords will be calling Emptee Bluffs Island their home from now on though, but he’s trying to remain hopeful. He thinks that maybe, just maybe, he can get on Crocodile and Mihawk’s good side, so not too long after the formation of Cross Guild and their first meeting, he starts brainstorming.  The only problem is Buggy’s mind constantly loops back to the same idea. He wants to give them each an expensive gift but he doesn’t want Crocodile to ask where he got the money for said gifts from. It sucks because gift-giving seems like the best way to show Mihawk and Crocodile that he’s not so bad and make them feel welcomed, but he knows he can’t do it without Crocodile getting all pissy with him. 

Meh, it’s not like he’d know what to get them anyways.

After several days of thinking, pacing around, and asking his men for some much-needed advice, Buggy decides to instead throw Mihawk and Crocodile a nice dinner. He knows that Crocodile and Mihawk aren’t exactly the most outgoing people on the planet, but he has hope that once they see all the effort Buggy and his men are going through to make them feel welcomed, they’ll be a little less hostile.

Buggy dedicates a lot of time and energy to planning his little dinner for Crocodile, Mihawk, and Daz and making sure that the event is kept a secret, which is no easy task considering how much his men like to sit around and gossip. Everything is honestly a little stressful, and at times he worries that everything will end up ruined thanks to someone running their big mouths, but thankfully that never happens. In between deciding the menu and the entertainment for the night, and sending his men out for supplies, he spends his time preparing a welcome speech for his two new subordinates. 

The hard part is coming up with a speech that makes him sound cool yet warm and welcoming at the same time. He can’t just say something like, ‘Surprise! Welcome to the island!’ That’s too simple, too boring, and lacks the emotions that Buggy’s trying to convey, but he can’t figure out what he should say instead. Whatever, he’ll figure it out eventually.

Buggy and his men decorate the cafeteria to the best of their ability on the night of their surprise dinner. At the end of the day, their humble, little cafeteria is nothing compared to a lavish banquet hall, but it feels a lot more cozy and intimate than a banquet hall could ever be. They push several tables together, arrange them nicely, dress them in (cheap) white tablecloths, and decorate them with fancy dishware and napkins. After that, Buggy and his men bring out the food and wine, and everyone seems thrilled as dinner time rapidly approaches.

This is it, Tonight is going to be the night that he wins Mihawk and Crocodile over with his world-class charm and charisma. He has his speech ready and tucked neatly into the palm of his hand, and now all he needs is his honored guests!    

Buggy has one of his men go and fetch Mihawk, Crocodile, and Daz once everything is ready. His heart is pounding in his chest as a mixture of excitement and anxiety washes over him and makes him feel all jittery, and he has to constantly remind himself that everything is okay. In fact, everything is going perfectly for once…Or at least everything seems to be going perfectly at first. Buggy and his crew wait for what seems like hours for their guests to arrive with the fear of Dinner growing cold lingering in everyone’s minds. Eventually, the three newcomers arrive, and when they do, they don’t look surprised and thankful… If anything, they look… annoyed. 

Buggy doesn’t even get to yell ‘Surprise!’ or something cool because everything goes down-hill before he gets the chance to. 

Buggy watches as Mihawk looks around the nicely decorated cafeteria. His expression is devoid of any emotion, and he looks… unimpressed at best and bored at worst. Buggy looks over at Daz next, and he has a similar expression as Mihawk, which is disappointing but not surprising and he shouldn’t have expected much of a reaction from him to begin with. As for Crocodile… Well, his face shows the most emotion out of all three men. Crocodile clicks his tongue loudly and looks rather annoyed as he scans the room and takes in the warm and friendly atmosphere.

“You made me stop what I was doing for this?” Crocodile asks, narrowing his eyes at Buggy, who is baffled, just baffled at the reaction he’s getting from all three men.

“We wanted to welcome you guys to the island!” Buggy says sheepishly, and he can’t help but feel slightly irritated that none of his honored guests are happy to see their surprise. In fact, now that he sees everyone’s sour expressions, he feels a bit hesitant to say the speech he spent so long preparing. “Uh…Um, Please, have a seat!” He says, gesturing to some seats that he specially picked out for the three of them that are right across from his own. Crocodile exhales a sigh, “I ain’t hungry.”

“Neither am I.” Mihawk replies immediately afterwards. 

Oh. Buggy thinks at that moment. Just, Oh. Buggy had decorations hung up and placed all around the room, he had all this delicious food that they wouldn’t eat on a normal day cooked, he had fancy wine bought and live entertainment arranged… He... He really thought that Mihawk and Crocodile would see all the effort he put into welcoming them and would want to sit down and have a bite to eat with Buggy, but they just… 

Crocodile’s cold words yank him back to reality, “Instead of throwing tacky little parties, you should be working on that list of things I gave you to do.” He mutters as he turns around and leaves, and, unsurprisingly, once Crocodile leaves, everyone else follows behind him silently.

A nasty tension lingers in the air once the three men make their leave. Buggy and the rest of his crew eat quietly and as quickly as possible before making their way to their respective sleeping quarters for the night. The whole ordeal leaves a bad taste in Buggy’s mouth, but he decides to give both Mihawk and Crocodile the benefit of the doubt. Again, they aren’t really social people, of course, they wouldn’t want to participate in some giant get-together, even if it was for them and was a friendly gesture. 

So, after that Buggy tries again to get on Crocodile and Mihawk’s good side. He doesn’t want Cross Guild to be built on a rocky foundation, but more importantly, he doesn’t want Mihawk and Crocodile to hate him and make him suffer. He figures he was thinking too big, too flashy, and should have instead done something smaller, but just as impactful. His mind goes back to the gift-giving thing, and he really doesn’t want to give them something overly expensive and come off as seeming disingenuous or worse have Crocodile question where he got the funds for the gift from. 

Everyone Buggy asks seems to think that Buggy should totally give them bouquets to welcome them to the island and as a friendly gesture, and after some consideration, he agrees. Buggy gets a couple of different recommendations but most of the people he’s talked to say he should give Mihawk and Crocodile lilies, and Buggy, not knowing much about flowers blindly follows their suggestions. He eventually decides to give them both a bouquet of beautiful orange lilies, which he has delivered to the island as soon as possible. 

In the meantime, Buggy spends hours and hours trying to plan out the perfect scenario and what he’s going to say to each man when he gives them their gifts. He’s having the same problems as before, and can’t figure out what he wants to say exactly to either. It has to be cool, though, that’s for sure. Something like, ‘I can tell you’re shocked to see these stunning flowers but don’t be. I got these for you, friend, in celebration of you coming to the island and us forming Cro—’ No, wait, that sucks, but hopefully he’ll figure something out once his flowers arrive.

The day his beautiful, stunning, fragrant flowers arrive, Buggy goes to Crocodile first, who is in the meeting room and right away seems annoyed to see him in front of him (like always) but, hey, Buggy’s trying to fix that. He holds up the bouquet of orange lilies in front of Crocodile and gives him a sheepish smile, “So, uh-” 

All those hours spent preparing what he was going to say become pointless in less than a second because the moment Crocodile takes a look at his flowers, he scoffs and turns his head away. “Instead of picking flowers, you should be getting my flagship ready.” 

Now, Crocodile didn’t throw his gift on the ground and stomp all over it, but it kinda feels like he did. Does Crocodile really not see the effort he’s putting in to get them on good terms…? Buggy places the flowers down on the table in front of Crocodile and gives him another smile, this one a little more forced than the last, “Oh, well… I just wanted to give you these and…” His words fail him at that moment, and he no longer knows what he should even say to the ungrateful man sitting in front of him, “You know, welcome you to the island… and I hope that... Cross guild is a success and that we can be good friends in the future…” 

Crocodile rolls his eyes, “I don’t need any friends, and I certainly don’t need any shitty flowers.” He says rather dismissively, “Now if you don’t have anything important to tell me, get out.” He orders and brushes Buggy off with the shake of a hand. Buggy’s head drops and he quietly makes his way to the exit, and he swears that on his way out of the meeting room, he hears the sound of something being tossed, most likely into the trash can, but he doesn’t want to think about it. 

Okay, so Crocodile is a dick. Buggy already knew that and he shouldn’t feel so gutted. It was obvious from the start that he wasn’t going to act positively towards a gift from Buggy no matter how nice it was. But Buggy was just hoping that… Whatever. It doesn’t matter. 

Things with Crocodile might not have gone well, but he still has Mihawk…Right? At least there’s still hope that he can make an ally out of him… right? He finds Mihawk several minutes later, tucked away underneath a tree and polishing his sword. The sight of his giant blade brings back memories to when Crocodile and Mihawk first arrived on the island and Mihawk chased him and tried to slice him to pieces. And although it isn’t possible for Mihawk to hurt him, at least not with a sword, Buggy still finds himself growing a little uneasy just from looking at his blade. 

Buggy hides the second bouquet behind his back and clears his throat as he approaches Mihawk. “Uh, Hawkeye…?” He calls out quietly, and much to his surprise, Mihawk’s initial response isn’t hostile or cold. He expected him to glare at him with sharp, piercing eyes and go: “What is it now, clown?” Instead, Mihawk glances up at him for a split second before looking back down at his sword, “Is there something you need?” He asks in his usual flat tone. 

By this point, Buggy’s forgotten everything he wanted to say to Mihawk, but still tries to say something nice anyways, “Uh, I know we didn’t get off to a great start, but I wanted to give you these as a welcoming gift…” Buggy tells him, “I don’t know, I just really want us all to get along. So…yeah, here.” Buggy slowly reveals the flowers that he has hidden behind his back, and the moment Mihawk sees them, his face contorts into an irritated expression. “You say that you want to be on better terms with me, but you’re giving me orange lilies?” He asks, narrowing his eyes at Buggy. Well, yes… though orange lilies seem to have several different meanings depending on who you ask, most of Buggy’s crew said they were a positive thing, something you’d give to someone who started a new job or got a promotion, or such.

However… It turns out Mihawk doesn’t have the same feelings about the flowers.

“You’re basically giving me a bouquet that tells me the opposite of that,” Mihawk states with a scoff, “Orange Lillies represent a deep-seated hatred for someone, did you really think i’d appreciate a gift like this?” Woah, woah, woah. What? Buggy thinks. He definitely did not mean for his gift to give off that sort of vibe, and he doesn’t know why Mihawk is the one person on the island who thinks these flowers are something negative.

Buggy feels a little flustered by it all. His face reddens and he tries to stammer out a quick reply, but is once again unsure how to salvage the situation, “No, I…” He tries to speak, but Mihawk puts his hand up in the air, signaling for him to stop talking. 

“I don’t want your gift. Go away.” Buggy feels like he’s been punched in the gut, and he cannot for the life of him figure out why Mihawk’s being so… unreasonable. Is that even the right word to describe him right now?

“I didn’t mean for my gift to come off the wrong way,” Buggy finally manages to say after a moment of thought as he tries his best to defend himself, “I don’t know much about flowers, an–”

“Why are you giving me a gift you know nothing about then?” 

Ouch. Buggy doesn’t have a response to that, so he just lowers his head in defeat once again and walks away from Mihawk. That’s such a nasty way to look at things, yeah, Buggy doesn’t know much about flowers, but he was genuinely trying to do something nice for Mihawk, and he’s acting like he spat in his face. Whatever, Buggy thinks, feeling rather hopeless at the moment. In the end, he decides to give the flowers to a random member of his crew, one who definitely doesn’t see the flowers as a hateful gift and happily accepts them with a beaming smile.

…If only Mihawk and Crocodile had that same reaction.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #466

Yeah, so... if you've been reading my letters up until this point... you understand that yesterday, I didn't get nearly enough sleep. And you probably also understand that I didn't have a chance to eat before work today, because I had to prioritize maximizing sleep. And you probably understand, from there, that today was kind of a weird mental health day.

...Well. Actually. It started normally enough, to be fair, even if I was somewhat sluggish. I had simple tasks to do – setting up sheets of cookies and croissants and such to be baked, putting labels on things, slicing bread, and suchlike. But then... well...

There's this young woman who works in our store. She handles gathering up stuff for people who order their groceries online. She has a habit of asking Tr where items are – even items that are not in the purview of the bakery. Tr does not have the skills to be able to tell this young woman, “I do not know where these items are; please ask me only about bakery items” or “Though you've been doing this particular job for a long time, it seems as though you still struggle to find items; do you need some coaching from a manager?” And so... when this young woman comes around, Tr gets visibly annoyed, but only when the young woman is not looking. Today, despite the eye roll I saw, she greeted the young woman, unprompted, with the same brightness with which she greets me when I come in, in the morning.

...And I felt very frightened in response to that. I perceived that Tr carries a lot of masked resentment towards this young woman – essentially, holding this young woman secretly accountable for Tr's failure to communicate her boundaries with gentle integrity.

Immediately, my mind questioned whether or not Tr feels similarly about me. It tried to draw evidence from past experiences to try to support or deny that conclusion. All at once, my mind was flooded with altogether too many memories of similar things happening to me – all of the folks who thought they were being “kind” or “nice” or “polite” or “avoiding hurting feelings” by not expressing their needs while I, obliviously, thought that they were feeling safe and having fun in my presence, only for it to be revealed later, usually accidentally, that they resented me and thought I was weird the whole time.

...It feels like a terrible betrayal every single time. And no matter how often it happens to me, dealing with it never seems to get any easier. I have to remind myself that if other people do not speak and act with integrity, then that's on them. But that can only do so much to soften the blow that is losing someone I thought was a friend, because I found out that they weren't actually interested in being my friend in the first place.

...So. With my freshly-adrenalined brain having gathered “evidence” from past memories (past memories do NOT count as evidence when it comes to people, because individuals are individuals, not faceless, stereotyped templates upon which to project our worst fears), it then tried to jump to the conclusion that Tr is perpetually annoyed with me as well.

...Because underfed, underslept brains afflicted with C-PTSD are gonna brain. And they're gonna usually do a pretty bad job of it. And so, the inside of my brain was quickly starting to look kind of like this:

...It was very lame. But I remembered that one of my coping skills is curiosity. So I asked more questions to Tr in order to try to get to the bottom of why she feels unable to communicate the boundary to this young woman. Conversation ensued. For reassurance, I asked Tr if she feels similarly about me. The answer, I guess, is no. So I'm gonna try to have faith in that.

...And then An came in. And... well. My brain immediately started trying to spiral in relation to him. I still speak to him via text sometimes. But... my brain sometimes perceives his behaviors at work as deliberate attempts to try to avoid interacting with or being seen by me. Sometimes I'll ask him questions via text (usually to the tune of, “we of my house will be at xyz place, do you wanna join us?”), and I perceive that he ignores the ones to which the answers are “no” instead of actually telling me “no” (which I have a REALLY hard time with because of the whole autism thing). Most recently, I asked him if he'd like to hang out before J and I leave for the Oregon trip; the answer to that was supposedly “yes”, but then when I followed up to request that he tell me when he's free so that I may plan something, I received no response to that after a few days, and the topic moved on and was never returned to, so...

...I was reminded, vaguely, of the way that the leader of a certain place J and I used to go to is, apparently, unable to say to us, “I need/want to exit this conversation”, and remained in a position of discomfort, speaking to us as though he's having fun when actually he wasn't, presumably because he didn't wanna hurt our feelings. We don't want him to have a bad time, so J and I don't go over there anymore.

My brain interpreted An's non-return to the topic of “when is your free time?” in the light of my past experiences and in the light of the way Tr treated this young woman. It wove it into a weird story all about how An actually hopes I'll go away and leave him alone forever and ever, but he doesn't wanna hurt my feelings, so he doesn't say so, and instead endures the discomfort of interacting with me.

...But I remembered this time that not all of the stories our addled brains weave are actually true. So you know what? When he came by, I tried to explain a little about the thing with Tr, and how it led up to the worry that he doesn't actually want anything to do with me. And he smiled and laughed a little, and without hesitating, he reassured me that I'm overthinking. So... I'm gonna try to have faith in that.

...Faith is hard when you've been lied to a lot by people who are afraid to set boundaries. But I'm gonna try it anyway. I haven't died any of the other times I had faith and it didn't work out. I'm probably not gonna die from it this time. And my support system is better now. And I know what to do when my brain is ouchy (most of the time, anyways).

...I'm gonna assume they're being truthful. But the fact of the matter is that it's fine even if they aren't. Because if they do not speak with integrity, that's on them, and I can handle it if that's the case.

When I got home, I immediately ate a few small things before putting some salmon I got a couple days ago into the steamer. The results were beautiful, and with me being not hungry anymore, I immediately felt a lot better.

...I wish I could give you some of this. It really is very yummy. But... I wrote you a letter that says how to make it, so... I guess... whenever you're done with whatever it is you're trying to do... you can make it for yourself and be really happy about its deliciousness.

...I hope you'll think of me a little when you try it.

I spent the rest of the afternoon/evening talking to various friends and generally derping around. At some point, I took an evening walk with J, which was probably good for me. And I took a shower, which was long overdue. I used the pink bar of rose-scented soap I got yesterday. And it smelled lovely for one wash. But it doesn't smell like anything anymore.

...A lot of bar soaps are like that for some reason, it seems. They don't smell like anything after the first use. I wonder why. It was kind of disappointing.

Overall, the shower was nice nonetheless. A great way to chase away the chill in my bones that I acquired from the walk.

...I should try to go to bed on time. So... I guess I'll end today's letter here.

I love you a whole lot, and... if you're around listening to my various derpy musings... I'm really glad you're here.

...Please keep being here. Please keep existing. Please keep staying safe. Please keep making choices that will lead you to that normal life you wanted.

I'll write to you again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

[ladystarksneedle]

Running for the hills

Aemond x niece reader

A/N: For @hotd-bigbang

Prompt: Fire | Furs | Forest (December 4th)

This can be read in continuation to "A fool for you" or as a standalone too.

Word count: 1k

Dividers by @saradika

Next>

The stench of charred flesh wafts up to her nose, covered in soot, as she recoils in disgust. There are flames all around her, licking at the dense forests below, smoke hissing through the steaming waters of the Riverlands as she soars above. Dragons of red and brown circle each other in agitation as they continue forwards, frustration coursing through them all, over yet another day of failure. She knows the outcome of their defeat when they return. Daemon will retire with his young mistress to conquer yet another night while she's left alone to stew with her thoughts, wallowing in misery. She had promised her mother so much before she left, vowing to keep an eye on him, praying to be given leave to be of use to their war. She feels the familiar ache of emptiness in her chest as they descend, the orange of the horizon mocking her in its wake. Naerax roars in discontent as she pats her goodbye, knowing her cries at night shall keep them both company. She can sense him near, like a shadow still clinging to her, a shroud of the past they both share. His betrayal stings even more with the blood on his hands and she wishes nothing more than to stain hers with his own.

The castle before them looms in white stone, a stark contrast to the ash they're covered in as they trek back together. She sees them bump their shoulders as they walk ahead with her jumping up to reach his height as he chuckles, lingering behind to give them space.

“I do not wish to lose you” her mother had said when she'd requested to be sent for the task at hand.

“I want to make you proud, kostilus muña” (please mother)

“It isn't safe and with what happened with-” She doesn't need to finish before she moves to hold her hands. They feel cold to touch, clammy with the burden of gold on her head.

“I'd be with Daemon. Besides there'll be three of us, Vhagar won't stand a chance” she assured her, unable to utter his name.

“Why do you wish to do this?” her mother had asked in resignation.

“This war is mine to end. He needs to pay for what he's done"

The words left unsaid linger on, as she looks back at the sky, "to me" haunts her still.

She hears their laughter at dinner, sees the girl her age flick a few grapes off her plate, teasing the man before her jovially. The word father rings in her head, rotten as it has always felt. The burden of not knowing who to address by the title and learning it was actually someone she came to love far too late, dawns on her as they continue, oblivious to her sulking. The man before her is her father in name, more farcial than the ones preceding him, yet loved by her mother the most. She remembers their wedding, how the wind howled as they spoke their vows and spilt their blood for each other. She had watched in awe and fear wishing for it to be her someday with the boy she yearned for having already spilt his the night before. Perhaps their fate was always sealed in blood, meant to be mourned rather than delighted in.

The years following the incident passed in anticipation and doubt. She felt it creep into her being as she learnt and flew, pushing herself to be her very best, thinking of him doing the same across the bay. She willed herself to sleep each night, praying to see him again if only to say she was sorry. She wondered if he thought of her just as she did of him.

Her nights now feel just as futile, mind racing as the bed above her chambers creaks and groans rhythmically, her words of promise to her queen one with the wind.

She's haunted by new ones at dawn with a scroll arriving, detailing his activities. He seems to have taken a bedmate, a witch they call her, bewitching and insidious, who can cast spells and control flames. Daemon laughs with mirth as he dismisses the maester “Let him have his fun, he'll not evade us for long”

The pit of dread in her belly deepens as he crumples the scroll in his hands. For once the girl ahead of her shares her apprehension.

Their scouring lessens for a while, with her choosing to go out on her own. It doesn't take much to convince her guardian who waves her off with a flick of his wrist. “Do not stray too far, zaldrītsos. I'll know if you do” he warns her as she takes off with the rising sun. It bathes her in its warmth as she tries to hide from the heat below fueling her need for blood. She feels the need to see him again, to see his eye before she plunges her dagger in his heart and feels his essence on her fingers. “Look at what you've done to me” she screams as she flies, the word “why” echoing through the dark clouds as she weeps.

“What are you reading?” she quipped secretly watching him from behind the bookshelves.

She remembers him hastily shutting his tome as he scrambled to get away, the furs around him pooling at his feet, a gift from a northern lord as a token for his siblings’ wedding.

“Go back to the feast. You don't belong here” he had said as he left, shutting the door to her broken heart.

The black ahead clogs her mind as she flies through it, descending near a clearing shrouded in smoke. Naerax roars in warning, restless as she tries to soothe her before a flash of blue strikes her eye. Near a rivulet, glinting through the haze she sees the figure of her dreams take shape, her lips sealing with horror as he comes to life.

“Byka nūmio, how fitting to have found you by the water” he croons. “I've been waiting for you” (little pearl)

The ground around her feels soft as she remembers the furs in her chambers at last, tucked away with the forgotten tome bearing his mark.

“I could never forget you”

Taglist: @witheredoffherwitch @arcielee @chompchompluke @barbieaemond @watercolorskyy

[senjutsunade]

|| We all know that Tsunade was completely left to her lonesome once her brother, grandmother and Dan passed. Unable to count on the support of her friends and teammates, she was forced to leave the village with Shizune in tow. Writing prompt on Tsuna-chan's support system when she returned to the village and how she deals with the difficulties of being the Godaime and reworking the leaf's flimsy medical structure. ^^

Note: You and CI just love giving me the hard tasks, don't you? This will make my arms hurt AGAIN! Be glad I adore you both as much as I do - on days you don't deserve it. u-u'' I'll incorporate a bunch of my headcanons we discussed in this too. I will do this in two parts though. I will work on the second part - reworking the medical structure as a separate post.

Godaime's Support System Head Canons

Returning to Konoha, Tsunade felt a profound sense of displacement. The village she had once known, the streets she had walked, were now a blend of familiarity and alienation. The buildings had changed, the faces were different, and the few that she did recognize were either children she had once known, now adults, or people who had aged so much they were barely recognizable. Twenty-five years away from Konoha had left a significant gap, one that was starkly apparent as she took on the mantle of Hokage.

Being the Godaime Hokage was a struggle. She is suddenly in the role of Hokage in a village where generations are used to seeing Sarutobi Hiruzen as the Hokage - apart from the short sparkly Namikaze interlude (then stupid flake went and died and probably cursed Tsunade with his dying breath to become the godaime). She was an enigma to the villagers—a line in the history books, known but not known. They had no choice but to accept her leadership, but trust was a different matter. The first few months were challenging. She felt unfit, an impostor in the role she had chosen. She had chosen to stop running, even though it is in her very nature to do so. But that was where her loyalty to Konoha really shone - though her instinct screamed at her to leave and never look back, she stays. All her loss and pain still has done little to stifle the love for her home.

Support comes to her in the form of Shizune - ever loyal and the caretaker. Their relationship, though, was fraught with underlying tension. Shizune had always been the responsible one, the caretaker, despite being younger. She had seen Tsunade's brokenness, even when Tsunade tried to hide it. This created a deep sense of guilt in Tsunade. Though their love for each other was deep, their relationship never became one of true confidants. Tsunade, lost in her own head, believed she was protecting Shizune from her darkness, not realizing she was doing more harm than good. Shizune wanted to help Tsunade get back on her feet, but Tsunade, due to her pain and guilt remained blind to Shizune's strength, and kept her at a distance, unconsciously denying Shizune the chance to get closer. This strained their relationship, creating a painful distance despite their closeness. It was Tsunade's biggest failure. Despite all these underlaying issues between their relationship, on their return to Konoha, Shizune became a constant source of support and helped streamline Tsuande's administration in a manner that had the system up and running smoothly in a matter of days.

Jiraiya, the fool, could read Tsunade like an open book. He saw her struggles and stayed in the village during those first few weeks, lending his silent strength. She would never admit it—her ego wouldn't allow it—but she deeply appreciated his presence. The Sannin had always been a team, against the world, and having one of her teammates by her side was a comfort as she navigated this new chapter of her life.

Next to join the circle was Kakashi. Seeing Kakashi was jarring for Tsunade. Adult Kakashi looked so much like Sakumo that it was almost painful, yet hard to connect with the sullen, glaring toddler she remembered. The toddler she had spent a number of afternoons with after Sakumo's passing and the one whose memory had haunted her many a time over the years once she left Konoha - his being the last face she saw before she left (how many loved ones had she disappointed by now?). Over time, they struck the oddest friendship (*), loss and bitter experiences acting as the bridge between the two separate generations; kindred spirits who came to rely on each other. Kakashi started filling in the gaps the absence of Jiraiya and Orochimaru had left. This friendship was an integral part of Konoha starting to feel like home again. Kakashi quickly became her right-hand man, his reputation in ANBU and among the jonin turning the tide in her favor. His loyalty was unfaltering, making him a central figure in her support circle.

Inoichi Yamanaka(**) was another key figure in her support network. As her third-cousin(**), their relationship had roots in their shared past and their mutual connection to Minato(**). When she returned, they picked up their relationship easily. Inoichi, along with Shikaku and Choza, formed a bond with Tsunade during a mission when their sensei was injured(***). Shikaku, with his respect for Tsunade's skills and beliefs, was the natural choice for Jonin Commander, a position he held with distinction.

With Kakashi as her right hand, Shikaku as her left, and Shizune managing both administration and the hospital, Tsunade's inner circle was complete. Kakashi and Shikaku's advice equipped her to handle the village's disastrous state, while Shizune's unwavering support helped her stay grounded.

An unexpected addition to this dynamic was Shikamaru. From their first meeting, there was a sense of understanding between them. Shikamaru's brilliance and strategic mind made him a valuable consultant. His involvement allowed Tsunade to influence the younger generation, reinforcing her belief in the Will of Fire.

Note: This is her inner most circle. In time she develops strong relationships with other jonin and chunin, like Anko (who she had known before leaving Koniha so it was was another shock - which became a migraine once she learned exactly how unhinged and at times annoyingly clingy the kunoichi is), Izumo, Kotetsu, Genma, Iruka, and Asuma.

____________________________________________

* Headcanon shared with @konohagakurekakashi.

** Headcanon: Tsunade is cousins with Inoichi and Minato, with Tsunade having a Yamanaka mother and Minato having a Yamanaka grandmother. Due to their age and similar ideas, Minato and Inoichi are rather close growing up. The two genin often end up bugging Tsunade because Minato has developed a fascination with fuinjutsu. This is a headcanon I share with @minaa-munch.

*** Headcanon: During a mission, the Ino-Shika-Cho trio's sensei was injured and needed a few months to recover. During those months, the trio was placed under Tsunade's temporary supervision. Her devil-may-care attitude and wit (the looks certainly helped—as obvious by his words when he declares her the world's most beautiful woman on her return to Konoha) led to Shikaku developing a crush on her, much to Inoichi and Minato's horror ("She's our cousin!!!").

Inspired by: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6698337/1/Regrets

[anineffectiveanimal]

Vii's character sheet (As written by Que)

Name: Vii

True Name: Viiviiane

Special Titles: The burning memory, The scholar, [FORGOTTEN]

Previous names and titles: [FORGOTTEN]

Nicknames: [FORGOTTEN]

Chronological Age: [FORGOTTEN]

Age: [FORGOTTEN]

Pronouns: Male

Sexuality: [FORGOTTEN]

Gender: Male

Species: [FORGOTTEN]

Disorders, disabilities and phobias: [FORGOTTEN]

Religion: evil , [FORGOTTEN]

Job: evil , [FORGOTTEN]

Lives in: [FORGOTTEN]

Languages: English, The speech of broken gods, [FORGOTTEN]

Height: 5'9"

Ethnicity: [FORGOTTEN]

Accent: Over the top "evil villain" voice.

Voice Claim: Mermaid man

Powers: Minor reality bending, [FORGOTTEN] Weaknesses: standard narrative parasite weaknesses, standard weaknesses he shares with his siblings, [FORGOTTEN]

Weapons: [FORGOTTEN]

Alignment: evil, [FORGOTTEN]

Text Color: Green

Main Hobbies: Doing evil, [FORGOTTEN]

Favorite Food: [FORGOTTEN]

Favorite animal: [FORGOTTEN]

Favorite Flower: [FORGOTTEN]

Scent: Chemicals and a cold night's air.

Handedness: Left

Blood Color: N/A

Awareness: None[FORGOTTEN].

Birthday: [FORGOTTEN]

Theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VpEf6K-w3kQ

Fun Facts: "Let his failure be a warning to you Uni. I will not tolerate failure anymore."

Special Interests: evil, [FORGOTTEN]

Comfort Objects: His "evil minions", [FORGOTTEN]

Family: Zan(brother) Woe(brother) Uni(brother) Que(brother)

Friends: Unrealprotagonbacon, Que, [FORGOTTEN]

Enemies: "That mean guy in the black suit with the mushrooms.", [FORGOTTEN]

Brief Personality: "A waste of such a bright mind. But threats must be followed through or else they will become complacent. Vii is but a fraction of a fraction of his former self, screaming about doing 'evil acts' which in reality are nothing more than petty vandalism and slightly cruel practical jokes."

Brief Backstory: Vii was my best man. A bright one who was all ways taking notes of every little detail. Unfortunately When I tasked him with the simple mission of spying on the corpse and its allies in the form of my brother Zan to gather information on their abilities, Vii was unable to let go of his ever present ego and revealed himself. This resulting with him being ejected from the pocket dimension. It is truly a sad thing that his intelligent had to go to waste, but he is much more useful now that he is not ruining my plans. I am sure current Vii would agree with me, especially after what I did to his head.

[lupiinee]

Remus is disabled, there is no question about that, but approximately a week before the full moon officially hits, his symptoms progressively get worse.

the week of the full moon

7 days before the full moon hits, Remus will usually wake up with a migraine. He'll find it difficult to concentrate and his vision will be extremely blurred.

Remus finds that his joints begin to hurt a lot more - as the full moon approaches, his wolf form is bigger than he is, and to compensate for that growth as much as it can, his body prepares itself by loosening the joints and almost stretching his ligaments. this can cause excess pain and trauma

his tastebuds start changing, preferring heartier foods such as chicken, beef, pork and lamb whilst vegetables make him feel sick

he gets dizzier quicker and can't stand for long periods of time without pain

to make room for sharper teeth and nails, his gums and his nailbeds start to itch and burn, often the cuticles will peel and crack

mood fluctuates too, remus finds things more and more aggravating, though he never lets that show.

he's much more prone to vomiting during this time due to the increased pressure in his head - he often feels like someone has split his skull into two.

the day of the full moon

remus will often be vomiting much of the morning

he will find it almost impossible to stand and carry out basic tasks

when he was living on his own, it was common for him to be unable to make it to the toilet in time and sometimes - and he's not proud of it - he would defecate himself because the pain was too intense

on occasion, he can get nosebleeds too due to the intense pressure in his skull

his vision usually becomes sharper and more refined, but as he has still human eyes, his mind can't process the extra information and it feels basically like sensory overload.

about thirty minutes before he is about to transform he'll have a shot of adrenaline rush through his veins that he often has no idea what to do, his body wants to move but at times he's so sore and so much in pain he can't do it

the full moon

transformations are not only external, but internal as well

werewolf hearts are typically smaller than human hearts, so in order for it to shrink, it has to stop. so essentially, he has a heart attack every month

the same is for his other organs, all smaller than a humans, so whilst he's having a heart attack, he's having kidney, lung, liver and stomach failure

he cannot pass out though, his mind forces him to go through the transformation and is the last thing to leave him.

nails, teeth, hair and bone structure all grow whilst remus is going through multiple organ failure. he'll often urinate on himself because he can't control his own bladder and the pain is so immense

nails and teeth are intensely sharp and cut at the skin.

his skin stretches and loses all colour turning a pale silver shade which is the colour of the wolf's fur

the transformation usually lasts about 7 minutes.

when he transforms back, essentially the same thing happens in reverse, however, remus is unaware of the transformation back, and there have been times where he has been terrified that the wolf might never leave and remain inside his human body

after the full moon 1 day - 5 days after

everything starts to return to normal,

remus still occasionally gets headaches

he's still prone to having vomiting fits as his stomach readjusts once again to being human

to compensate being human, his joints now feel like they've been pushed together and his ligaments are often taut and difficult to move

the worst pains are in his elbows, his knees, his toes and his hands.

wolfsbane NEGATES these symptoms. and with continued use, slow them down and can almost eliminate them. the potion is a lot more than just ensuring remus can keep his mind during a full moon. however, the potion must be taken every single day, seven days before the moon, each dose helping ensure the symptoms are manageable with the final dose being the one that will ultimately ensure remus' mind remains during the night.

full moons are painful, difficult, and often the worst nights remus has to undergo. wolfsbane is a breakthrough potion for a number of reasons, but the cost of it prevents remus from being an active member of society. the first time he is ever introduced to it was his year of teaching at hogwarts and as the months progressed, his symptoms lessened. they didn't evaporate because wolfsbane is not a cure, but they were more manageable and remus was able to start living a healthier lifestyle.

it's important to note that the way most werewolves deal with these symptoms is pack mentality and protection. werewolves who try to live "normal" human lives tend to suffer the worst of it because they're forcing their body to be a certain way and "fit into society". but those in werewolf clans try and use the moon to their advantage. they'll typically eat raw meats and let their aggression out. werewolf clans tend to embrace their lycanthropy and through it have a support system in place.

[dino-cattivo]

Pray for me, cos I won't pray for you

My fic for the @the-centennial-husbands-bigbang!

The amazing art for this fic was done by @jeniidrawsshit and oh my god I love it so so much. It is just so amazing.

LINK TO THE ART!!! GO CHECK IT OUT!!

Pairing: Hob/Dream

Rating: mature

Word Count: 40,657

Tags: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Happy Ending, Eventual Happy Ending, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, gore like the dinner episode, The Corinthian is His Own Warning (The Sandman), Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Blood and Injury, Alternate Universe - Mob, Organized Crime, Hob joins the mafia, Self Confidence Issues, Hob Gadling Loves Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, POV Hob Gadling, Hob Gadling Needs A Hug, Misunderstandings

Summery: After their fight in 1889 Hob falls in with a bad crowd thanks to a boy that reminds him of Robyn. He tries to stop his descent into crime not wanting to be reduced to being nothing more than a murderer again. But eh fails. Compared to all the live he ends helping to guard a basement is tame. If only Corinthian, the right hand man of his employer, would stop flirting with him despite being turned down multiple times already.

Chapter 1 under the cut. Will repost the next chapters as reblog because of word limit.

~1889~

“You knew Lady Johanna. You know, Lushing Lou. You know everyone, don't you?” Hob asked in wonder. He may not know who or rather what his stranger was, but he could never help but be amazed by everything he could do. Sometimes when he laid awake, unable to catch sleep, he came up with the wildest theories about the man. He imagines him being a vampire, a fae, and even considered an old god from Greece. But he would never know, as his stranger never revealed anything about himself, not even his name. 

It felt unfair in a way. Him knowing everything about Hob, while Hob got nothing. It had crossed his mind to be petty, to keep things to himself, go against their deal in a way. But Hob couldn’t stop himself from telling the man whatever he could when they saw each other, eager to be able to share.  

“I saw her again, you know.”

“Who? Lady Johanna?” Worry flared up. He knew his stranger was fine, sitting across the table from him. He also knew the man was strong enough to protect himself. But he couldn’t help wanting to be there, to protect, to keep his stranger safe, even at the cost of his own freedom.

“She undertook a task for me and succeeded admirably, I might add.”

Jealousy, burning hot, filling his veins. He tried to tamper it down, to net let it get to him, but he couldn’t help himself. All the time he had wanted nothing more than to get close to his stranger, to prove his worth, and now he had offered that chance to someone else. He had chosen someone who had hunted them down and tried to do harm instead of someone he shared centuries of friendship with.

It hurt. 

Although, could he hold it against his stranger? The man knew Hob for so long, knew what he has done, knew all his failures during his long life. So it was no wonder he didn’t trust Hob enough to ask him for a favor. His voice was filled with self-loathing as he spoke. “That might be the only thing I've learned after 500 years. People are almost always better than you think they are. Not me, though. Still the same as ever.”

“I think perhaps you've changed.” Hob’s heart started beating faster at the other’s words. Did he really think so? Hob wished it was true. He wants to change, to be good, worthy of his stranger.

“Well, I may have learned a bit from my mistakes. But, uh… doesn't seem to stop me from making them. I think it's you that's changed.”

“How so?”

Hob should shut up now and be content with what he had, seeing the man he had fallen for every hundred years. He should not press the issue, no matter how desperate he was to be acknowledged by the other. But Hob had never been smart when it came to things he desired.

“I think I know why we still meet here, century after century. It's not because you want to see whether or not I'm ready to seek death. I don't think I'll ever seek death. By now, you know that about me. So, I think you're here for something else.”

“And what might that be?” His stranger looked curious at that. Hob liked the look as it meant he had done something to surprise the man.

“Friendship. I think you're lonely.” And in true Hob fashion, he managed to put his foot in his mouth. He knew the moment he had spoken, he had made a mistake. It was the truth, but the wording was just unfortunate and way too blunt. And not at all how he had planned to breach the topic.

“You dare…”

“No, look, I'm not saying–,” Hob tried to backpedal, but it was too late. “You… dare suggest one such as I might need your companionship.”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

Maybe despite Hob’s foolish approach, there was a chance all of this still had a good outcome, and they would get closer. “Then I shall take my leave of you and prove you wrong.” Or maybe not. Hob sprang up from his chair and chased after his stranger as the man strode out of the tavern. The man couldn’t do this. If he wanted or not, they were friends. You didn’t just storm off and leave your friends behind.

“I'll tell you what, I'll be here in 100 years' time. If you're here then, too, it'll be because we're friends. No other reason, right?” He was met by silence as his stranger didn’t seem fit to answer and just disappeared. 

“Fսck.” 

~1897~

He was pissed, absolutely livid. Who did he think he was? He had no right to speak to Hob like this, no matter how powerful he was. That was not how things worked. You couldn’t be an asshole like that and expect people to stick around. Hob didn’t need him. They saw each other only every hundredth years, and even then the stranger often didn’t have time for Hob and fucked off with someone else. So what if Shakespeare was famous now? Hob would still have been better company back then. No, he didn’t need the man. He would make new friends. Better ones.

~1936~

Okay, so maybe mistakes had been made and Hob should have chosen his words more carefully. That was on him. His stranger still shouldn’t have exploded like this and should rather have tried to talk things out like a grown up, but still – Hob hadn’t been entirely blameless in the situation.

When they saw each other the next time he would have to apologize and maybe then they could laugh together about the stupid fight. Or well, Hob had never seen his stranger laugh, couldn’t even imagine it. He would settle for a smirk then.

~1983~

Anxiety was settled deep in his chest. What if his stranger proved him wrong. What if he didn’t show, determined to not give in. Hob had no way of finding him. He didn’t even know who he was looking for. What would Hob even do? Nothing besides showing up in the White Horse every hundred years and praying at some point his stranger would forgive him and come for him. 

Once more, he felt powerless in their relationship. It was the whole reason why he had even started the fight, wanting to know more, anything about his stranger. He didn’t want to be on equal footing, knowing it would never be, but he wanted something that was his. He didn’t want to be just another amusement the man had, but to mean at least something to the other. 

Tears sprung to his eyes as he hit his desk in frustration. It was unfair. The stranger meant too much to him, was such a big part of his life, and Hob didn’t even know if he was the only immortal he kept. Maybe Shakespeare was out there under a new name, living his best life and meeting his stranger more often than every hundredth years. And there was nothing Hob could do about it, no way for him to even find out.

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on any more work, he gathered his documents and put them in a briefcase before leaving the empty office and making his way through the dark street. They were in the progress of having the gas street-lamps replaced by electrical once, but it was slow progress. And during it many streets stayed dark, since repairing gaslights when they were about to be replaced was a waste of resources according to the major. Hob didn’t care too much, he didn’t fear the dark.

He should have.

A dark figure stepped in front of him, barely noticeable in the moonlight. Turning around to run, he saw another figure blocking the other exit of the street and walking towards Hob. A flash of metal in the dark, a weapon. Hob swallowed, not because he was scared, he had survived much worse, but because it spelled trouble, and he couldn’t risk anyone finding out he was immortal. Not with times changing and hiding who he was becoming more and more difficult.

“Your money or your life,” Hob had to suppress a snort at the nasal voice. Ah, criminals, always the same no matter how many centuries passed. He remembered the time well, when he was in the other's position, stopping the carriages of rich folks and demanding the valuables. He had used the exact same words. Although, he guessed there was no much need for flair when it came to such simple matters.

“Alright, I will give you what I have. Please don’t hurt me,” Hob held up his hands, talking calm and trying not to provoke them. He couldn’t die, sure, but being stabbed hurt like a freaking bitch. Hob would rather part with some cash he had on hand and his watch. Nothing holding real value to him, and easy enough to replace. 

So very slowly and telegraphing his movement clearly, he reached inside his coat and pulled out his wallet, holding it out until it was snatched from his fingers. Next was his watch that got the same treatment. And still Hob was well-behaved, not struggling, calm and cooperating. He gave no reason for the situation to escalate, giving his robbers all chances to just leave now with their loot.

Which was why Hob was so surprised when pain exploded at the side of his head. He stumbled, his knee hitting the pavement, his palm getting scratched as he caught himself. Blinking, he tried to lift the haze from his thoughts as he looked up at the two shapes hovering above him. 

It was only instincts, honed through centuries with conflicts, that saved him, his head ducking automatically as he heard the swish of metal through the air. But just because the knife didn't slash his face didn't mean he was safe, as he was not as fortunate in avoiding the kick to his side. He cried out as pain exploded in his ribs. Every fiber of his being wanted him to curl up and protect his soft belly, but he forced down this instinct with gritted teeth. 

No, if you wanted to survive, you had to fight with everything you got. Using the momentum of the kick, he stumbled back to his feet, and got some distance between himself and the attackers. Despite the throbbing in his head, he now could see them more clearly, that was not the face of someone just messing around. No, they wore big smiles, and were enjoying his pain. They wouldn't stop. At least not on their own. 

One of them, heavy dark coat, spindly frame, soon ran towards Hob, knife in hand. Amateur movements. Hob stepped forward, getting close, deflected the blade by smacking the other's arm. His knee meets the other's stomach, sending him down. Before he could make sure he stayed down the other man, this one smaller but wider, jumped on him, and they tumbled to the ground.

That was fine. Hob knew how to wrestle and had the other in a chokehold in seconds. Still two against one, but he kicked out the legs of the man running towards him to tear him off his friend.

The body was suddenly in free-fall, arms whirling trying to get back balance. 

Then a sickening crunch and Hob froze.  

He had heard it often during his lifetime. He had sworn he would no longer be the cause of it. 

Looking over, he didn't need to see the neck bend in an awkward position to know the man was gone. 

Hob had killed him. He hadn't meant to, it had been an accident. But he had killed someone. 

After all the lifetime he had lead and all the killing and dying he had done, he had wanted to be done with it. He just wanted to live in peace and do let others do the same. But now he had ripped someone else out of their life. How could he live with himself knowing what he had just done. 

“Chris,” the man, Hob was still entangled on the ground with, cried out and struggled to free himself. Hob helped him as best as he could now that he was no longer in danger of being attacked. 

Getting up himself, he saw the man kneeling next to the body crying, shaking it and begging for Chris to open his eyes. The man didn’t. They never did. Once someone was gone, there was nothing you can do, no matter how you cried out to your stranger to spare them. 

Suddenly the man got up, swinging at Hob, but in his grief it had become uncoordinated and Hob easily stopped the punch. 

“You murderer! You killed him!”

He hadn’t meant to. And it wouldn’t have happened if they hadn’t attacked him. But pointing that out wouldn’t help, as the man would not listen to reason. He wanted someone to be angry at, to blame, to lessen his own guilt. And Hob was the perfect target. Hob stopped the other punch and just held on as the man cried. It was the least Hob could do.

There was the sound of footsteps in the distance, spooking the man, and he ripped himself free and started stumbling away. Hob didn’t stop him, just sitting down on the ground next to the cooling body and waited. He should probably call the police, but he couldn’t bring himself to move, so he just waited. How long he didn’t know, but at some point steps came closer and when he looked up Hob could see men in uniform entering the alley. The police has arrived. 

Hob didn’t resist when he was dragged up and cold iron snapped around his wrist. Neither when he was pulled away. Everything was a blur. He didn’t remember how they made it to the station, just that he found himself in a chair, an officer sitting on the other side of the desk staring him down.

He was asked questions he can’t answer, the full name of the victim, their relationship and most of all why he did it. All Hob can say is, it was an accident, I didn’t mean to, they attacked me first, I just tried to defend myself, then he fell. Over and over, he repeats it like a mantra. Something to hang on when everyone wants to make him believe he did it on purpose. When their words make him question himself. 

I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. I was just defending myself.

He didn’t know how much time has passed, there was no clock in the room nor window. His voice was rough and black spots dance on the edge of his vision, they hadn’t bothered giving him a glass of water. The blood in his hair from the first swing he took was dry and flaking off every time he shakes his head in denial. His ribs throb with every breath.

He was about to just nod, accept whatever they said if it meant he will be thrown into a cell where he could lay down and close his eyes. It would ruin his life, but wouldn’t that be right after what he had done? A few years of suffering was the least he deserved. Especially since he unlike others had the option to start anew after faking his death.

His downward spiral was stopped by a man bargain in, under loud protests of some officers. The man’s briefcase hit the desk hard, and Hob flinched back at the loud noise.

“Don’t say anything,” sharp blue eyes drilled into Hob’s making him cower at the imposing figure in front of him. The man commanded respect, not because of the nice suit he was wearing or the expensive jewelry or because he was even taller than Hob, but in the way he held himself, his presence filling the whole room. 

So Hob shut his mouth. It was not like anyone was really listening to what he had to say anyway. And not speaking would be good for the scratching in his throat. His fate now would be decided if the new person was a friend or someone wanting to drag him down. Hob didn’t have the strength to fight anymore.

“You,” the man whirled on the officer, making him duck on instinct, only to puff up and try to make himself more imposing when he noticed. “Tell me how it comes that you had him in here for 8 hours and couldn’t even be bothered to give him a glass of water nor give him medical attention? Where are we? At the witch trials,” Hob flinched hard at the words, remembering the trials only too well. Back then he had broken as well, admitting to anything as long as it meant the pain would end. 

To his surprise, the stranger pushed his briefcase further on the desk, blocking Hob’s slumped form from view and gave him at least a bit of privacy as he fought with his demons.

“He killed a man! What do you expect? A fluffed up pillow and a three-course meal?”

“Human decency!” The officer was now absolutely cowering under the pressure, despite his best efforts. “Or are you that desperate you couldn’t take the 10 minutes to have him checked over? Maybe because you know you don’t have a case?”

“Bullshit! I know you love to put your nose where it doesn’t belong, Mr. Henderson. He killed the guy. We found him next to the corpse, and he admitted it was him who made the deceased fall.”

“And wasn’t he also quite persistence that the deceased and another man were the once attacking him, and he was just defending himself? Or are you just going to ignore that? So I suggest instead of harassing the victim, you should rather be out there looking for the second attacker.”

And the officer, despite his complaints and grumbling, got up and left the room. There was no way to know if he was really searching for the other attacker, and if there was even a chance to find the man with how little information Hob had been able to give, but getting a breather was enough for Hob.

His head laid on the desk, the cold helping against his headache, and he just rested his eyes for a moment. He heard movement but ignored Mr. Henderson for now. Or at least he tried to, but the man kneeled down next to Hob’s chair and his hand laid on Hob’s knee. 

Blinking his eyes back open was an effort, but Hob managed and looked down at the concerned eyes looking up at him.

“Mr. Gadling, I wish could say it will be alright, but your situation doesn’t look good. But rest assured, I will do anything in my power to get you out of this.”

“I don’t think I have the money to pay your commission,” Hob was not poor. But the last years after he had fought with his friend, he had let himself go. Gambling, and throwing money at unnecessary luxuries just because he could. When he had pulled his head out of his ass, he had already spent most of his fortune and was now living like the middle class. Not bad, but not enough to pay a man wearing jewelry that could feed a family for at least a year.

“Don’t worry about money. Just focus on getting through this.”

Hob snorted, so either once he was out the man would make demands to be paid back another way, forcing Hob into his servitude, or he was just plain stupid. Saying that straight to the man’s face was not the best idea, but the man just laughed.

“Personally, I see myself as someone just trying to do the right thing, reforming the misdeeds in the justice system.”

So, delusional. But Hob could work with that. And having a delusional lawyer was better than not having one at all, so accepting the help would be best.

“The biggest problem is all we have to confirm your story is your word. Even if the police showed an ounce of competence and finds the other robber, he will tell his own story.” Hob knew all that. He didn’t know why the other even bothered, since there was no way he would get out of here. Not with everyone in the station being hellbent on making sure he went to prison. But at least he got to go to a holding cell for now and take a nap until Mr. Henderson would return the next day. 

And return he did with a big smile on his face. The police had not found the other robber, but they had found a woman hanging around the alleyway, and with a bit of pressure she had admitted to seeing the whole thing backing up Hob’s story. The officers complained and tried to poke holes in his defense, but in the end they had no other option but to accept that his actions had been to defend his own life. 

Things dragged on, Hob being pushed from one cell to the other as people discussed his fate. Mr. Henderson, please call me Edward, was there every step of the way and the only reason why Hob didn’t fell apart. 

Still, Hob couldn’t believe it when the judge finally spoke the words not guilty, and he was stepping into the sun. Till the last moment he had waited for the second shoe to drop, for someone to jump out and present new evidence sending him to jail.

Turning to Edward standing beside him, smiling brightly, he couldn’t help himself, but pulling the man into his arms and thanking him under tears. The man had been there for him, like a true friend, and if he ever needed it, Hob would be there for him in return.

He had lost his stranger, but he was not alone. There were good people out there, just waiting for him. All Hobs had to do was open his heart and accept them. 

With this being over, Hob could move on with his life. Things finally looked up. Or they did until he found out he had no longer a job because of his long absence and his old boss was unwilling to hire a killer despite Hob being proclaimed not guilty. Hob didn’t understand it, but he was unwilling to start a fight. He could find someplace else. Only words of his case had spread through the whole city, and no one was willing to hire him. And without a job there was no money which meant he would be unable to pay his upcoming rent.

But nothing he tried worked. The only positions willing to hire him wouldn’t even make a dent in his rent, even if he had three jobs. And with the housing shortage, there was no place else he could live that would be cheaper. He could move, somewhere no one knew him. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave London. This was his home, where his only friend lived. And he had to be here in a few years to be at the White Horse in case his stranger returned. 

He could ask Edward for help, but he didn’t want it to seem he was just after the other's money. Especially with Edwards business taking a major hit after a person he was defending was proven guilty. Hob tried to help as best as he could behind closed doors but knew he couldn’t do more since it wouldn’t look good on Edward if he was seen with Hob. 

It was a major point of friction. Edward didn’t care about his reputation and had no trouble inviting Hob out for dinner or even hiring him. But Hob refusing frustrated him, especially when Hob even declined his money, despite Edward knowing how much Hob was struggling. He just wanted to support his best friend and being unable to do so and just having to watch how he made himself smaller and smaller, shrinking under all negative attention focused on him angered him.

Their love for each other made them want the best for each other. And it tore their friendship apart. They were unable to spend time together without a disagreement, and then their friendship ended in a big fight. 

And it was Hob fault. He always said the wrong thing, turning away the people he cared about. First his stranger now Edward. Maybe he was meant to be alone.

But the world didn’t stop for his emotional turmoil. The rent needed to be paid, now especially since there was no longer a friend who would have a place on their sofa for Hob to sleep on. And Hob really needed to keep a roof over his head. 

He was terrified of ending back on the street. He did it once, and it was the worst time of his life. Just a nightmare of pain, suffering, anger, blood, and a desperate fight for survival. He knew getting back up once you were so far down was almost impossible. He couldn’t let it get this far. Not if there was something he could do. Even if it means he had to let go of his pride.

The first time wasn’t planed. Was just walking, trying to clear his head and finding a way out. The window was open, everything else dark, and no car in the driveway. He knew it was wrong, he should be better than this. 

He climbed the fence and slipped through the window, heart beating fast as he listened for any sign of life inside the house. Nothing. Sneaking around, he grabbed anything of value. 

Ten minutes later he was out, pockets heavy, and on his way to the pawnshop. It was not enough to pay the rent but enough to satisfy his landlord getting another week before he would be kicked out. 

It made him think about how easy it had been. And how little effort had taken to get the money. And it was not as if he hadn’t tried other options. It was them, society, not giving him a choice. If they had just given him a job, he wouldn’t be in this position. It was their fault, not his. 

And it was not as if he had hurt anyone. A few valuables were gone. And? They could replace it, their house had been nice enough they could afford a small loss like that.

Yes. It was the least all of them deserved for letting him down like this. He would just take what he needed to survive. And it was only temporary until he was back on his feet. They all thought he was a murderer, a bit of stealing was nothing in comparison.

It became a routine, going on nightly strolls and returning with his pocket full. He was good at it. Always knew when someone was home or not, avoided being seen when he made his way inside, and didn’t spend a second longer inside than he had to.

No one had to know what Hob did. Well except, the pawnshop owner, but he didn’t say anything and just gave Hob a price much under the actual value of the items. Hob was fine with that. Paying hush money was better than being ratted out to the police. Especially since the police so far had no idea he even existed. There was always breaking and entering, and he chose his targets so far apart there was no connection. The cops had better things to do than chasing a criminal that didn’t cause real harm. And Hob liked things that way. He had managed to avoid prison once, he didn’t want to risk it, especially since this time there would be no Edward bailing him out.

His rent was paid, he had food in his belly and a new coat. Life was good. Or it should be. There was still the guilt nagging at him that all of this wasn’t his. That he had stolen it and it was wrong. But with every failed attempt to find another source of income, he fell deeper into his ways. It was just too easy. Until weeks passed by without him searching for a legitimate job. 

~1989~

He started hating the man he was becoming. Or rather, he was returning to. He had thought he had become better, had changed. But now he was back at square one. Just a lowlife surviving by harming others. He didn’t want to be like this.

But there was still hope. One last chance to turn things around. Hob may not have the best moral compass – if he had any at all- but his stranger always knew right from wrong. Even before society or law. It had taken him to tell Hob for Hob to realize slavery was wrong. Today it was unthinkable, but back then it has just been how things were. And even then his stranger had known it was wrong. Hob just had to tell him, and his stranger would set him right and correct Hob’s course for the next 100 years.

Yes, all Hob had to do was meet his friend and things would be okay. So he drove to the White Horse in a car he had stolen, full of excitement in the prospect of the weight leaving his chest. He would do better, become good. To get his stranger approval.

But the longer he sat there, alone, the worse he felt. It looked like this was his stranger's answer. They were never and never would be friends. Hob was alone, on his own. There was no one who cared. No one who had any expectations, everyone had given up on him. Why should he even try? If there was no one to judge him, why not make things easy for himself?

Things escalate from there, as there is nothing holding Hob back. So what if the houses he breaks into now are not from some rich fucks but middle class as well? They had shunned him just as well. And their security was a lot laxer. Also, less to steal, but it was enough. And then there was someone home, but the house was way too good to pass up on. But it was okay, he would just be quiet. 

A good plan if not for the man of the house stepping out of his bed to get a glass of water just as Hob was clearing out their silver drawer. They looked at each other frozen, and Hob was glad for the hat and the scarf hiding most of his face. 

Before the other could too much than let out a shocked shout, Hob had jumped over the counter and tackled him to the ground, choking him until he lost conscious. When the wife appeared in the doorway, he was prepared, knocking her unconscious.

He used things found around the house to bind them to two chairs and gag them, before taking his time emptying their whole house. They would call the police anyway, Hob could at least make it worth it. And worth it, it was. He left the pawnshop with a big bundle of cash.

And if he spotted some rich folks taking a shortcut through a dark allay, well then it was their own fault, since they had begged for it. You couldn’t blame Hob for standing there with a knife demanding their valuables in a sick play on the situation that had started this whole thing. But other than his attackers back then, he was just after the money. Once he had what he wanted, he let his victims go unharmed. 

He didn’t kill. That was a line he would never cross again. And if he had to attack someone or render them unconscious, he did it with causing as little harm as possible. It was something which baffled the police and press alike, as they couldn’t decide if he was a monster or a gentleman thief. It was kinda amusing reading about people losing their mind trying to figure him out. Especially since it was that easy. He was just someone no longer following societies rules and just living by his own codex, doing whatever he pleased.

Even if this codex was completely screwed. Like right now, still blood on his knuckles from having to knock someone out who resisted, but being offended by a bunch of teens ganging up on a gangly little thing. It just strokes him wrong, seeing something like this. 

But it is not his problem. There is no need to get involved.

Or at least it wasn’t until the boy rose his head and looked straight at Hob. Dark brown eyes, with hair of the same color. But that was not what stopped Hob in his tracks. He looked just like Robyn. Well, not exactly, it was more the vibes he was giving up. But Hob couldn’t stop seeing his son laying there on the ground beaten and bloody, his tormentors surrounding him.

He moved before he really thought about it. 

His fist connected with the nose of the guy to the left. The bone crunched under the impact and the guy stumbled back, shouting in pain. That got the attention of the rest of his group, who instantly stepped in to avenge their friend. With no option to back out of this anymore, Hob just went with the flow and beat everyone getting into punching distance. They had the numbers, but they were untrained and rather stood in each other's way than taken advantage and overpowering Hob. Which leads to Hob standing between fallen bodies, breathing heavy and blood on his shirt but mostly unharmed beside a few bruises. 

Walking over to the fallen boy, he saw him flinch. Hob hadn’t meant to scare him, although the display of violence must have been frightening. But he didn’t feel comfortable leaving him sitting on the ground with unknown injuries, especially since his attackers would get up soon. 

He wanted to gain the boy's trust, but Hob had forgotten how to be comforting and soft. Hadn’t had need for it in years. Even for Edward, he had not managed to bring back that part of himself. Which was just as well because Edward liked his brash and direct way.

But now he tried, crouching down, holding out his hands and speaking softly. “It's okay. I took care of them,” well, he tried. He failed miserably, sounding more threatening than reassuring, but he had tried. How had he managed to deal with Robyn without frightening the child? He couldn’t remember. And wasn’t that sad? Not remembering this everyday life with his son, only holding some special memories close to his heart while the rest faded?

Knowing that his presence would only distress the boy more, he got up and turned to leave. He would just call the police to check things out, once he was far enough away. Only there was a tug on his pant leg and turning he saw the boy grasping the fabric with shaking fingers. The big teary eyes looking up at Hob broke his heart, and he couldn’t stop himself from leaning down again and pulling the boy into his arms. Crying and wailing filled the alley, but the boy clung to Hob desperately. 

Carrying him into his arm and towards Hob’s apartment, reminded Hob of the times Robyn had been unable to sleep and Hob had walked through the whole house with the child in his arm to keep him calm, while Elenore watched them with a smile. He had forgotten it until his actions pulled the memory back up.

Entering his building, he sat the boy on his sofa and retrieved his extensive med-kit. Being unable to die meant treating injuries yourself that would bring up questions, going to the hospital. He didn’t need much of it to treat the boy. The injuries had looked worse than they actually were. A bloody nose, bruising, scratched hands and knees, a gash close to his hairline that luckily didn’t need stitches, and a cracked wrist. 

Once the task was done, Hob looked at the boy awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

“You want tea?” You could never go wrong with tea. The boy nodded and Hob set to work, returning with two mugs of tea.

“Thank you,” the voice was shy and soft. But at least the shaking had stopped as the kid started to relax.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hob meant it. Neither the tea nor stepping in had been much trouble, and Hob had done it for his own piece of mind. There was no need t thank him.

Hob swirled the tea in his mug, not knowing what to say. Should he give the kid money for a taxi? Take him home? Offer him the sofa for tonight? Hob didn’t know. 

Luckily for him, the boy was not as incapable of social interaction as he was.

“My name is Georgie Baldwin. What about you.”

“Hob,” he didn’t give a last name. The less the boy knew, the better it was for him with the life Hob lived.

“Thank you for saving me, Hob,” the boy put down his empty mug, hugged Hob and then left the apartment before Hob could compose himself. He looked at the closed door not understanding what exactly had happened, but then he just shrugged. Another weird day in his weird life. No need to think deeper about it. It was not as if hew would see the boy ever again.

After cleaning up the medical equipment, he laid in bed, unable to sleep. 

The encounter had brought up memories of a happier time. It made him realize just how lonely he felt. There was a gnawing emptiness in his chest, where his heart once was. He wanted someone to be there for him, to greet him when he got home, to care if he made it home. He didn’t want t be alone anymore. But every time he tried he messed up and ended up back alone. It was better to not try, and be disappointed rather than to suffer.

But knowing that didn’t fill the emptiness in his chest and no matter how much he tried he didn’t find any rest. Which left him cranky and short temperate when he stomped to the door, mug with extra strong coffee in hand, to tell whoever was on the other side to fuck off. Throwing the door open, he came face to face with the kid from yesterday.

The door banged close, as Hob didn’t have the patience to deal with whatever bullshit this was. Instead, he took a big swing of his coffee, cursed as it burned his tongue, and debated if a nice fluffy omelet was worth the effort of actually making it. 

His doorbell chimed again.

Hadn’t he been clear enough in his dismissal? But no, when he opened the door, the boy was still standing there smiling at him. What a prick. But not stupid, as he held out a bag that smelled heavenly of backed goods as bribery. 

With his stomach grumbling, Hob admitted defeat and took the bag, leaving the door open as he stepped inside. The boy had already been here, it wouldn’t do any harm to let him in. But Hob was not in the mood to play good host right now and didn’t offer any tea or coffee. Ripping open the bag, he found muffins and chocolate croissants. All things considered, it was a good bribe.

Humming happily, he dug in as the boy sat down watching him carefully. 

“So what so you want kid?” 

“It’s Georgie,” the way the kid pouted was kinda cute. He must have old ladies want to feed him all over town. “I want you to teach me how to fight.” Hob choked on the bit of croissant. He couldn’t say if it was his immortality or Georgie slapping his back that prevented him from entering the sunless lands. Whipping tears out of his eyes, he looked at the kid as if he had lost his mind.

“Are you completely crazy? Why would you ask me?”

 “The way you fought was amazing. Please, I want to be able to do it too.”

“Hard pass. Why the heck should I teach a brat?”

“I can pay you,” the kid dove for his pocket and placed a stack of bills on the table. It was no small amount. So, a rich brat. Well, it was not as Hob really needed money with how well his business was going. And he would rather not involve the kid by accident. If he went down for his actions it was one thing but dragging a kid down with him was completely different. And if he gave in now, he just knew the kid would one day rob houses side by side with him.

“Pass. Go home kid. You are young and have a bright life ahead of you. There is no need to get involved with the likes of me.”

“But what if they come back?! I need to be able to defend myself,” Hob just groaned as this was just playing unfair. Especially since it was a fair point. The bullies had found him once, and there was no guarantee they wouldn’t do worse when Hob was not close by to step in. It was just unfair. Hob was not responsible for the kid, could barely remember his name. But he had made it his responsibility when he stepped in. The least he could do was see things through now.

“Okay fine. I will teach you self-defense. Nothing more. And you will stay out of my business.”

“Deal,” the kid smiled brightly as he held out his hand for Hob to shake. Knowing that one day he would regret this Hob took the offered hand.

[beepiiboop]

Small Reassurances and Encouragement

chara exploration writing involving celyn and cyrin's student/mentor friendship dynamic! (also smaaaaaall glimpse of cyrin's past actions Haunting Him at the very end of this writing yay!!! the horrors and consequences of his actions!!)

''Agh, so much studying to do....'' 

As Celyn looks down at many of the assignments he needs to do, he is stressed out and unable to decide which one to focus on. As the student of Cidria's current ruler, Cyrin, and as the messenger of Cidria as well, Celyn has a heavy load of responsibilities on his shoulders. He desires to fulfill these responsibilities even if it means overworking himself. These studies mean a lot to Celyn. He isn't a big fan of slacking off on his studies as he views it as necessary for him.

The moment Celyn is getting agitated with the idea of not being able to complete most of his studies, Cyrin walks into the area where Celyn is focusing his studies and notices him feeling bothered. Cyrin placed his hand onto the young angel's shoulder, speaking to him with comfort. "Are you taking it easy on yourself, young Celyn? Don't fret about not being able to complete these studies all at once." Cyrin's voice startled Celyn out of his stressed zone instantly, turning his head to look at the god shocked. "A-ah!? Cyrin!? What are you doing here!?" Feeling completely confused about why Cyrin was here as he assumed he had some important manners to do or something urgent, and didn't expect him to come out of nowhere to check up on him.

Cyrin expressed a worried look on his face seeing how stressed out Celyn is. "....Celyn. I know how much these studies mean a lot for you to take on but you shouldn't overwork yourself just to fulfill heavy responsibilities as my student. I worry about your well-being, you know? At a young age, you shouldn't burden yourself with all of this stress." 

Celyn lays his head onto his arms already resting on the table, completely depressed. He wants to fulfill the responsibilities he's been given by Cyrin, not wanting to slack any of them whatsoever through the means of pushing himself to the limit with his studies. The shame of not being able to finish half of his studies eats Celyn alive. Celyn lets out a stressed-out sigh. "I don't want to disappoint you Cyrin... as your student and the messenger of Cidria, I have to keep up with these studies to prepare myself for the responsibilities I'll carry. If I don't complete it, it just feels like I'm not good enough for this role and not meant to be the messenger of Cidria after all...." 

Cyrin sat closer to Celyn, starting by giving him a slightly hard but soft flicker on his cheek. "Young Celyn, stop putting yourself down over this," Cyrin said in a serious tone of voice. Celyn felt the immediate bonk on his cheek that shook him out of his depressed state, raising his head out of his arms holding on to the spot of the cheek Cyrin flickered him at. "Ow...." 

"I understand what it's like being in such a position. I was in the same spot as you when I was handed down the title of Cidria's ruler. Carrying Cidria's legacy as its new ruler was a difficult task for me... I felt the eyes of my ancestors laid upon me with such a heavy-loaded role being given to me. I thought I would never make it this far as its ruler and would disappoint my ancestors for being a failure of a ruler..." Cyrin gives Celyn a small smile on his face. "But I never let that burden feeling get in the way and did my hardest as I can to make this world nourish more than ever. I did my best efforts with as much care and everything for this world with nothing pressuring me now. So please Celyn, don't pressure yourself too much about this. You're already a good fit for the role as my messenger with the dedication and respect you have shown to Cidria, and me. Take it slow and be patient with your responsibilities one step at a time, would you?"

Celyn felt motivated by Cyrin's words of encouragement and reassurance and smiled back at him. "Thank you so much Cyrin! I never knew I needed this motivation from you... I'm so sorry for being a downer about the whole thing, these thoughts are something I dealt with for a long while not wanting to disappoint you. Hearing your words about going through a similar experience to mine honestly made me feel better about this, along with trying not to stress myself over it and take some time! I'll do the best I can to take care of myself while making you proud with my accomplishments as both your student and messenger of Cidria." 

Cyrin pats Celyn's back a bit, feeling happy about his response and relieved to see him feel all better again. "That's the spirit of my dear student. Now, why don't you take a small break from your studies and go do something that takes your mind a bit? I need to do important manners so I can't exactly stay around." 

"Ah, of course! I'll do that! Thanks again Cyrin, I'll keep everything you've said to me in mind and will forever be thankful for you as not only my teacher but the ruler of Cidria being appreciative of everything you do for this world and its people!" Celyn got off from his spot, leaving the area to give himself a small rest from his studies. 

As Cyrin watched him leave, he looked down at the table, feeling a bit... off with himself as his inner stressed emotions are slowly overcoming him. "...Purity such as yours should be forever cherished while you still have them. Remember that before it gets too late." Cyrin said quietly to himself with the consequences of his actions gripping onto him tightly.

[cats-spilled-wine-foolery]

Alright, so... this is my first ever fic, and it's honestly so broad; I love writing it, but honestly have no idea how I'm going to complete it😅 I will, but it'll take time. Especially taking into consideration that I posted it on FanFictionNet first, and the time between posting the second and third chapter was I think over six months. But I am, well and truly, active; even if you cannot see it. I actually wrote many chapters ahead, though it's still unorganised.

Here's a snippet from the first chapter:

"Let us review your report once more." The voice was calm and collected, with a cool edge that made the uncertain eyes snap to the dark and imposing form. "Tol-in-Gaurhoth is lost to us, and as such, it is highly improbable for that failure of a lieutenant to be in its vicinity… sensible. Its surroundings being a poor hiding spot–"

"We searched them nonetheless," murmured the lesser of the Ainur.

"Do not interrupt me, Ulundo." The Maia sealed his lips at being rebuked, and the Lord of Darkness continued. "So you searched and found nothing: plausible. You sensed a shadow cast over Taur-nu-fuin, and went to investigate. Intelligent, competent; exactly what would have been needed." Here the Vala paused and his back straightened, while the voice raised to what Angband's residents referred to as the 'danger register'." Were it not for the fact that you saw yourself as being entirely capable of taking on my lieutenant – who was once among the most powerful Maiar – ALONE!" here Melkor found it perfectly justifiable to whirl around and point Grond at his quivering servant, eyes now resembling endless pits of furiously swirling shadows. "You were but one Maia, and not the most powerful at that. I assigned you to this task because of your stealth, not power! Flames alone would easily render you helpless! ARE YOU TRULY SO UTTERLY BRAINLESS?!"

"My Lord, I–"

"Silence!" The command was loud and sharp, but otherwise spoken in a normal voice. Which Ulundo did not like one bit; truthfully, he preferred when his lord yelled. Keeping his composure… this meant everything was well thought through and very much intended. Which more often than not heralded a punishment crueller than if it were made on the whim – which the Vala tended to do on a regular basis. But this… The Úmaia did his best to conceal a shiver, and managed to remain perfectly still.

"You walked into a forest that was plainly his hiding spot, extended your mind to find him, which virtually meant you announced your presence to him, and performed your best impression of a bear just awoken from its winter slumber when you ineptly headed to his hiding spot."

"But I found–"

"NEGLIGENCE!" Melkor roared, finally glaring directly at his Maia to pierce him with blazing eyes, body language reminding the cowering Ulundo of a volcano nearing eruption. "Irresponsibility, recklessness, DERELICTION!"

The servant surprised even himself when he succeeded in remaining glued to the spot, despite his brain screaming at him to run as the enraged Vala marched towards him, seizing his chin harshly and forcing him to look up, nearly snapping his neck in the process. Brown eyes locked with ones resembling dark rubies, unable to look away as his lord searched his face and mind. "Was there something you wished to add, Ambarincë?" The sudden change in demeanour was not nearly as unexpected as it would seem, as Melkor's mood could go from one extreme to another in a matter of milliseconds, and it often did. But the soft, almost fond purr that came from the mocking lips caught Ulundo off guard.

"I…" When he hesitated, the dark lord stroked his cheek with his thumb, rubbing soothing circles on the skin. One of the thick, dark eyebrows rose, the scarred face now softened by faint amusement.

"Yes?"

‘It's fake,’ the Maia reminded himself desperately. Yet his body, even his ëala, proved to be treacherous when they skillfully persuaded him to accept the touch. Despite knowing full well where this was heading, he leaned into it, briefly remembering how caring his first lord had been to his Maiar.

Melkor crouched gracefully, his gaze still fixed on Ulundo, nearly making it seem as if the intent eyes were burning away his own, melting the flesh, drilling holes in his very soul. It took every ounce of willpower not to recoil.

"I… I found a cat," he finally revealed, and only now, when his voice sounded rather raspy, he noticed his throat had gone completely dry.

"A cat."

The kneeling servant couldn't suppress his shudder this time, caused by the growing mirth and gentleness in the Vala's actions as he repeated his Maia's statement with a hint of incredulity and amusement, pausing slightly mid-sentence.

"Yes, my Lord."

"How interesting."

"My Lord, it hissed and scratched, and thrashed in my hold."

"An extraordinarily abnormal behaviour for a cat, yes. Is this how you obtained these?" the Vala asked, the fingers of his unoccupied hand ghosting over the scratches on his subordinate's face.

"Yes, my Lord," Ulundo whispered, sensing the dryness in his master's response that seeped through the gentle mask.

"And what did you find so peculiar about this cat that made you share these news with me?"

The Maia licked his lips and tried to force a response from his dry throat. "I recalled that lord Gorthaur once seemed to be particularly fond of cats, so I thought he perhaps took on the form of one as a ruse, since his regular choice of form apart from..." He trailed off, noting that Melkor was now looking at him with some amount of incredulousness and honest interest. And then, as suddenly and violently as only he was wont to, the Vala roughly shoved Ulundo backwards while he started pacing to and fro, his fingers supporting his chin as he mumbled to himself.

"What colour and size was it? How did it behave?" he finally asked, his eyes boring into his Maia's. When Ulundo was done with the description, including how he noticed the cat, Melkor was – for the first time in what could just as well be forever – frozen in spot, and his fingers absentmindedly drummed against his crossed arms. The Maia winced visibly and nearly jumped when a gale of maniacal, wild laughter shook the room, and his eyes snapped upwards, only to widen when he saw the Vala almost doubling over. "A cat?!" he finally gasped out in a very unlordly manner, though the mocking undertone didn't escape Ulundo's notice. "Oh, how low you have fallen, Sauron. No better form to run away from Oröme's hound!"

[aftapati]

* / Las Noches.

( palace, experimentations, reign )

The palace.

Las Noches was the stronghold that Sōsuke, Kaname, Gin, the Espada and arrancars had taken residence in, after the resultant defeat of Barragan, that also prompted to its significant change to what it is now. It was his headquarters were he conducted most of his experiments outside Soul Society, as well as the palace that signified his reign over this realm.

Everything had to go in accordance to his plans, even the creation of the palace. Every single detail matters regardless how insignificant it might be to others. It's massive size is mandatory for all necessities to be catered such as having equipment, rooms for miscellaneous reasons involving his experiments and be able to shelter his army for the sake of keep following him, giving them that false pretendence of security, if you will. It was also equipped with medical facilities and detention wings. It is a massive fortress that can be seen from miles away. Las Noches is an exceedingly large structure, appearing as large as ( if not larger than ) the Seireitei in Soul Society. It also consists several towers, consists rooms for almost every Espada, as well as for its ruler, a throne room, and other indispensable facilities mostly for commencing experiments.

Experiments.

The majority of his experiments and almost everything that had to do with his plans of becoming the next Soul King were conducted in the premises of Las Noches. Most of them included breaking the barrier between soul reaper and hollow, strengthening his army with the assistance of Hōgyoku as well as finding and exploring anything that would be seen as benefactory to him. Most prominent ones were surrounding Hōgyoku and his sequential subjugation with it, testing and theorizing everything.

He had enough facilities with ' victims ' in them to conduct his experiments, sufferers raging from soul reapers, hollows, arrancars and even humans. For the sake of creating a stronger army and becoming the perfect being, he had tested various theories on said victims, with some of them being successful, others not so much.

( more information about this section tba in a separate post. )

Regulationship & Commandship.

Aizen, without a doubt, was a very commanding person. Constantly with an unreadable expression, making you unable what he has in mind. He would not tolerate defiance and disrespect, and the minute he senses someone becomes too comfortable in defying him, he make them learn their place. Failure was also not an option for anyone to be willing to contemplate, as the minute he senses someone had failed a mission let's say, or a task, they will face the consequences. Despite how his manners appears as courteous, he is nowhere near that. Rather, the opposite. And he will have no issue in showcasing of such. I have mentioned this before but he would rather let his words do the work rather than actions, but should he be prone to actions as to show why he shouldn't be disresspected, the consequences will be devastating. ( You can find posts here for more information X , X )

For instance, contradicting canon, Sōsuke will never make a request in the manner of ' would you please return to your seat? ' but rather ' i will ask you to return to your seat. ' While he retains his polite manners because of how he has conceptualized himself as, there is still distinct difference from the usage of appropriate words to the tone of voice, appearing more authorituous. His polite manners aren't out of kindness.

Despite how polished and gentlemanly he appears, this is far from the truth. He does not need to act courteous to those that are aware - to an extent - about his entirety, as he believes he has to possess authority in order for his rules to be followed without complaints, to absolution. So with that being said, he is not someone that anyone wants to displease under any circumstances. Everyone is aware of his meritorious prowess and extraterrestrial spiritual pressure, therefore he has made sure that everyone knows the consequences to face should they defy him. He does possess a sense of intimidation and he has no issue with that. He will also remind everyone that he is the reason as to why they have such massive strength and will gladly tell them that it is no issue to take it back, should he feel the need to. He needs to have his soldiers at best performance and will do whatever he deems necessary to achieve that.

Sōsuke's orders are absolute and will tolerate no questioning them. Should anyone have a different opinion, it is the best for them to keep it for themselves unless if it is viewed beneficial. He also does not really care for anyone's needs, only the sufficient ones just enough to help them with their performance under his commandship. So, if anyone has a request for example, he will listen but wouldn't really take it into consideration, unless as mentioned above, it is beneficial to him. He doesn't really care about entertaining anyone, since his mind is concentrated on bigger goals.

Those who appear to be the most obedient and efficient, he will be prone to make one or two more requests for them to accomplish, also appearing as a way to illustrate a false reliance towards the rest. ( with Ulquiorra being the prime example of this ) A tactic to make everyone be more efficient with their work. However, he has acknowledged that not everyone is in an agreement with his ways, but he does not care about their opinion. He is aware that some of them have even considered rebelling against them, but he knows it will result to their inevitable evisceration. And for the sake of his own, twisted amusement, he would entertain such thought.

In his mind, he is a God that they need to bow down to, and obey without objections.