#at least the eyes are fixed and those were the largest offender

[antirepurp]

eyes fixed, yippee for consistency

the fix was also the stupidest thing known to man: i simply re-exported the base game textures with the same settings i used for the red eye. i have 0 idea what paint.net did to the textures but i guess it somehow slightly affects the way they're shown in-game

also there is a little bit of Fuckery going on with the gradient and the transition in it is not fully smooth after all, probably because the area where they are in the image is mildly small

i added saturation to make the lines more obvious but yeah they are there unfortunately, i think it's also visible on the legs as well. i don't really know if there's a good fix for that, it might have something to do with the way dds images are compressed and the way frontiers handles them and that might make gradients way too tricky to implement. hella unsure if i wanna try to bruteforce them anyway or give up and have him be solely monocolor

[aminiatureworld]

Frustration

Characters: Childe, Diluc, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,068 words

Premise: Commissions don’t always go as planned, much to your frustration. Luckily there’s someone there to make you feel better.

Author’s Note: So I’ve been thinking of writing Genshin stuff for months now but haven’t, for various reasons mainly that being how much this blog is already a bit of a disarrayed mess. But after awhile I decided another fandom won’t hurt. Besides I think it’s better to write something than nothing, even if the fandom keeps changing. So… yeah?

This particular scenario was basically my day today. The characters have been chosen out of my own personal will. I was going to do Zhongli as well but I’m exhausted so if this is well received perhaps I’ll do that another day.

Also I’m so tired I’m halfway to a headache and feel a bit floaty so sorry if there are grammar mistakes and such. Anyways, hope you like!

Character Banners in progress

Ao3 link in reblog

Childe

“I’m gonna kill someone.” You muttered, slamming your weapon down on the table, causing the ginger next to you to start.

“As long as that person’s not me I’ll be glad to help you.” You weren’t sure whether you found the comment worrying, insulting, or charming, and decided not to reply, instead throwing yourself in the chair across from Childe, usually reserved for customers or some member of the Fatui higherups, though today you could care less.

“Hey, am I not good enough?” Childe half whined half joked. You only grunted before getting up and walking over to his chair, plopping yourself on his lap and promptly picking at a stray thread on his coat which had caught your eye and was now becoming an increasing source of irritation.

Taking this as a sign Childe gently pried your nails away from the offending thread. Placing your palms in his gloved hands he smiled and placed a kiss on your forehead. “Want to tell me about it?”

“It’s this stupid ley line! You know, the one in the stone forest? I was commissioned to keep an eye on it, normal stuff, but this one seems absolutely crawling with all sorts of slimes and the like, hilichurls too and a stray bandit here or there. They keeping breaking the damn thing and the minute I fix it they’re back again. At this rate I’m not going to finish it!” You chewed on the inside of your cheek, thinking of the hours you’d spent fighting with the thing. You’d even let out a few tears of frustration in the process, and having nothing to show for it was intensely irritating, to say the least.

“Poor darling.” Childe’s smirk was timeless, but there was a softness to it that you took as confirmation that he understood. I mean if anyone was going to understand it was going to be a member of the Fatui. As much as you disliked the group on principle, you did have to admit that Childe was certainly a hard worker, and running around at the whims of the far off Tsaritsa certainly had its trials.

Slumping against his chest you allowed yourself to relax a bit, some tension brought out simply by the act of telling someone about the frustrations that were building up, like someone shaking a corked bottle. Childe kissed your hands, a welcome distraction, before giving you a peck on the nose. You smiled at that, squeezing his hands. It felt good to have someone to complain to, to have someone who understood. But that was Childe, surprisingly understanding. And always looking for a fight.

“So…” as if on cue Childe spoke up, tone becoming truer, his smile becoming more foxlike. “You have something you need help fighting I hear.”

“Don’t let this get you any ideas.” You smirked right back. “I can still whip you when it comes to sparring at you know it. Besides, won’t I get in trouble if you’re there.”

“Give me half the commission rate and we’ll call it square.”

“Such a steep rate!” You gasped in fake horror, nevertheless lifting yourself off the chair. Childe was up no sooner, giving you a mischievous grin.

“Well of course! I can’t have you fleecing me out of my money. Not when I’ve already given you my heart, which is quite expensive by the way.” Giving you a quick forehead kiss he took your hand then, giving some half assed excuse to the poor desk clerk when they asked where he was going. “I have to save someone some trouble.”

You scoffed at that, but it was true. Childe was saving you a lot of trouble, and keeping your pride in some sort of piece. That was Childe. Wild, passionate, aching for a fight, perhaps not a great person – no in fact decidedly not so. But he was also surprisingly caring, reliable, and steadfast. And that was all you could ask for in the moment.

 Diluc

“Do you know where in Monstadt someone is supposed to find 50 Windwheel Asters?”

Diluc whipped his head up at that one; out of all the things he expected you to say that was certainly not one of them. It was almost closing time at the Winery, and this was normally the time when you came up to see him, chatting about this and that, waiting for him to close the ledger so you two could have some time together. In the entire history of your relationship there’d never been an evening that began such as this.

“There should be some around here, and Windrise if you’re in for a bit of a hike. But 50 is an awful lot, and I’m not sure the florists would be happy if you carted off with all their flowers.”

“I know.” You raised an eyebrow, leaning against the wall, picking at your fingernails. “I know that finding 50 of anything in a day is a hard task. But I was given a short noticed commission by some wealthy tradesman who’s passing by and wanted some flowers for a gala or some such thing. It’s important for the Guild that I complete these you know, and I’m not looking forward to telling Katheryne about it tomorrow.”

You sighed, glancing out the window of the Winery. You thought of all the places in Monstadt the view was perhaps loveliest here, cozy, with a view of all that made Monstadt, the planes, the forest, even a glimpse of the waterways that ran through it. But right now all you could think about was how in such a vast swath of land you’d still failed to meet the goal, you’d still turned up empty handed.

“Would you sit next to me?” Diluc’s voice broke you out of your depressing reverie and you sat down in the chair adjacent to his – a recent addition to his office – laying your head somewhat awkwardly on his shoulder, running your hands through his soft hair. You two sat in silence like that for a bit, the steady flow of Diluc’s pen keeping your eyes occupied while your hands braided and twisted at random, gentle and absentminded.

Finally the ledger was closed and Diluc turned to you. Smiling he massaged your left shoulder slightly, eliciting a sigh from you.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself for things like this.” He began, his tone soft and low. “No reasonable person on Earth would ask you to gather so many flowers in a day. Even Flora doesn’t sell that many to a single customer without an order, and her whole job consists of selling flora. You’ve watched me work long enough, do you think I’d sell 50 kegs of wine to a tradesman on site?”

“No, of course not.” You mumbled. “But it’s my job to do the unconventional requests, how can I pick and choose at random? I can’t very well complete only half of my commissions.”

“Of course not, but nobody expects you to simultaneously catch 50 flowers out of thin air either. The Guild has its own regulations and rules you know, and I wouldn’t be surprised if this was a violation of one. No one doubts your prowess my dear. You’ve slain Eyes of Storms and have scaled mountains taller than most people in Monstadt might ever imagine. You done what might be considered impossible to some many times. So you should trust in the Guild and in the people of Monstadt. They aren’t well likely to turn their back on you over such a ridiculous request.”

You hummed a reply, resting your hands on Diluc’s. All he said was probably right of course, Katheryne could very well tell you how ridiculous such a request was, and no harm would come to your reputation. But your relationship with Diluc was still young, there was still so much to learn about the other, and so hearing such confident praise from him felt like a sort of gift, recompense for such a frustrating ordeal. Humming once more you leaned your head on his shoulder again. Tomorrow you would go and tell the Guild about the debacle, and let the man know the ridiculousness of his request. But tonight you just wanted to rest with the person you cherished the most. That was all you wished for.

 Xiao

“Something’s wrong.” Xiao’s voice was purposefully flat, and you wondered not for the first time how the adeptus in front of you had become so good at reading your mood, especially considering the fact that he admitted himself that his grasp on human emotions was a tricky one. He always seemed to know when you were upset at least, and your initial urge to attempt to hide your frustration immediately blew away.

“It’s been a rough day.” You admitted, standing next to him on the Wangshu Inn’s railing, letting the cool evening breeze cool you down. It’d been an obnoxiously hot day, and you were glad for any bit of fresh air. Xiao said nothing, but you could feel his gaze on you, waiting for your decision as to whether or not you’d let him know the reason you were upset. Not that it was really a question, at this point you couldn’t imagine a time when you didn’t tell Xiao practically everything, from the most mundane to those things that loomed largest in your life. You’d never met someone you trusted so much in your life before, and it felt rather freeing, knowing that he didn’t mind a bit, something that had scared you when you first began opening up to him.

“It’s just a commission, nothing ground shaking. Thankfully.” You added on, thinking of when Liyue had almost been swallowed whole; the moment when it seemed all would fail, before the miraculous traveler had bound the adept and the citizens of Liyue together. It was something you weren’t likely to forget, and something you never wished to relive. “That being said.” You added on. “It’s something that, well, is distressing me a lot.”

Xiao stood patiently as you explained to him that your deceptively simple commission of delivering food to someone had managed to go horribly awry after a group of Cryo slimes had left the food frozen solid, with the angry customer unwilling to pay or wait for a replacement.

“It wasn’t too expensive thankfully.” You remarked. “I mean it was just food. But it feels silly, and a bit embarrassing. I mean of course I should’ve paid, I don’t begrudge that. I just don’t understand how I managed to screw up something so fundamentally simple. It seems… somehow a bit of a slap in the fact. I mean, aren’t I any good?”

“Of course you are.” Xiao’s answer was firm, but not unkind. Instead it held in it the certainty of one who’d lived thousands of years, and whose trust in you was absolute. Drawing closer, the adeptus glanced around, making sure there was no one around, before slinging an arm around your own, drawing you close and running soft circles around your shoulder.

“You’re a great adventurer.” He remarked, voice filled with as much serious as there was fondness. “I’ve seen many warriors, many adventurers come and go in my time. Those whose feats will fill the pages of books and the staves of songs long after they themselves have been reduced to ashes. Those who will be called great heroes. All of them fell sometimes. And, if you must fall, I’d rather it be over something so simple as a botched food delivery.”

You glanced up into Xiao’s eyes. Normally he was reticent with words, even moreso with gestures. Every word let you deeper into someone’s life, into their past, their personality, their soul. No word was careless with Xiao. And as you stared at eyes filled with pride and love and worry, suddenly you felt as if what had just passed was small, oh so very small. There would be another commission, just as there would be another tomorrow. There’d be another failure most likely too. Many of them even. But they were small stones in a great big pond, quickly sinking out of sight and out of mind.

“I love you.” You breathed, and Xiao’s face seemed to open all of a sudden, shedding a thousand cares and a thousand worries. He pressed his forehead to your own.

“I love you too.”

[alia-turin]

Finally chapter 5 and finally things starting to move at very fast pace. There will be 3-4 more chapters based on how long they turn out to be. I hope you enjoy this one as is long, but a lot of things happen. Also I think Avallac’h is a bit of a troll.  Fic Title: Somewhere in Time (Chapter 5) Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4 Fandom: The Witcher (Aen Elle) Pairing: Caranthir/F/OC Warning: Canon typical violence for this chapter, mention of scars, angst AO3 Link

Caranthir looked at himself in the mirror, one of the few occasions when he actually needed to do it. Eredin’s, or more like Ge’els’ reception, was today celebrating...something. An anniversary or something like that, Caranthir didn’t really care, it didn’t matter either. Ge’els needed that for his little political games and they all had to behave, the occasion was not important, it was about the game. Caranthir knew how the power in Tir na Lia worked, he knew there were still some who doubted Eredin’s rule. Ge’els called that appeasing the nonbelievers, Eredin called it hunting the traitors. It was all the same.

He was dressed for the occasion even if he didn’t really want to be there, black coat the collar and sleeves lined with grey furs, grey belt over his hips and black pants tucked in black cavalry boots, his Red Rider cape hanging over his shoulder. Well, that was the best he could do, no amount of nice clothes could fix his face so there was that. He thought of opening a portal to Aine’s room but he decided against it. He was going to be civilized tonight as much as he could be.

Walking to her room he wondered what was he going to do from now on. No more running on his end, that was clear but then what? He felt he was on an impossible journey where he didn’t want to let her go but the longer he held her, the worse it would become. Avallac’h was right, he was a cage. He grinded his teeth. Every time Avallac’h was right about something it caused him physical pain.

He knocked on her door and did not wait for invitation - he walked in. She was standing in front of the mirror in her room but Caranthir froze in place forgetting what he was going to say or even do. Whoever the servant who picked that dress was he should start treating them better than the rest. Her hair was tied and falling over one shoulder leaving the rest of her skin exposed. The dress his servants had picked was green, somehow complementing her mismatching eyes, thin straps were holding the fabric to her shoulders, but he could see her collarbones and the elegant curve in her neck. The dress itself was simple, wrapping around her body, tight around the waist but running free around her legs, a long slit was starting from her hip all the way to her feet.

She turned to face him but he was still staring. Women in court had never attracted him in any way or form, too polished for his taste, but seeing her like that...then again she was not part of the court and probably that did it for him even dressed like that there was still wilderness around her. Caranthir wanted to go to that reception even less now. All he could think about was throwing her on the bed and tearing the dress from her body.

“You are not talking.” she finally spoke her voice doing nothing to stop his urges.

He made a sign with his hand for her to come closer and with some hesitation she did. He touched the skin on her neck with the tip of his fingers, her body tensing under his hand. There were still traces of the bruises he left on her neck and some on her shoulders and arms. He cast the spell and it all disappeared. She looked down to her arms, her eyes filled with surprise.

“How…”

“Not going to walk you in there looking like a battered horse.” He forced a smile on his lips, he wouldn’t have done that if it was different sort of marks.

He opened a portal and saw her surprise just growing at that. She had probably never seen one of those, the one he opened when he took her, well she was unconscious and then the first one she saw was probably yesterday when he walked in her room, but probably never consciously being through one.

“Not using the main door” she smiled, her eyes shining from the candle lights.

“Never.” her grabbed her hand and stepped through the portal making her follow him.

They found themselves on a grand balcony, no one was looking at them. He was right about no one paying attention to their entrance, she could see maybe few people looking at the portal but then they just continued their conversation.

Aine spent the day thinking about tonight and about the opportunity. She was finally out of the room with the door she couldn’t open and away from the servants that didn’t care about her. She did not harbor any illusions that the people here did, she was just above a slave for them, but she also looked enough of an elf to be able to blend and disappear especially dressed the way she was. She needed a chance when Caranthir was not paying attention. She looked back toward the city, the view from here was very different compared to her window. Different parts of the castle, but as it was a reception room she could assume it had easy access to the entrance.

Caranthir placed a hand on the small of her back and urged her to go inside, she obliged.

“Look at you.'' As soon as they walked in a large man approached them, the tattoos on his face looked like blood and his size was almost twice compared to everyone else in the room. “You brought your little toy.”

Aine froze as she heard him speak. That was the same man who had walked into her home and dragged her by the hair in the woods. His voice had been distorted by the helmet, but now it just hit her, that and the frame...she made a step back despite Caranthir’s hand that was still in her.

“Where is Eredin?” Caranthir seemed to pay no attention at the small panic attack she was having.

“Entertaining his guests with Ge’els.” The man made a sign to the main hall. “I guess you are busy tonight? Not getting drunk with me?”

She hoped Caranthir would say yes, he would just leave her to her own devices and he would go with his...she guessed friend. He shook his head. The other man smiled and walked away grabbing a glass of liquor from one of the servants.

Aine exhaled loudly, her knees feeling weak once her whole body was not ridged with panic anymore.

“Are you okay?” there was no concern in Caranthir’s voice, it sounded more like curiosity. Did he even understand what did just happen? Did he...she took a deep breath and collected herself. Just a couple of hours, hopefully less.

“Yes, I’m sorry it is the portal.” she tried to lie as best as she could, she had no idea if he bought it, his face was blank, nothing she could read on him.

“Come on I need a drink.” he led her inside and grabbed two glasses from a servant, he downed one immediately but passed her the second. He grabbed another one for himself. The servant walk away with an empty tray.

The room was astonishing, by far the largest room she had ever seen, still there were so many people inside colorfully dressed, women wearing fascinating dresses, it was hypnotizing and suffocating at the same time. She absentmindedly looked at the faces, that was probably the best of Tir na Lia and beyond. Everybody who was somebody here to pay homage to their king. She raised the glass to her lips, but she didn’t drink. She wanted to be sober when the opportunity arises. As she did that her eyes stopped at a man. Short for Aen Elle, short dark hair, he was far but she could recognize him.

“What?” Caranthir must have seen the change of expression on her face.

“That’s my father.” she pointed with her chin in the general direction, there were at least three other men in that vicinity. “Short, dark hair, dark blue cape.”

“Ailin Eurig?” Carathir looked surprised. “Really?” he looked at her father again and then back at her. “I guess I can see some of it. You want to say hi?”

“No!” she almost screamed. “I’d rather stay away.” she probably sounded more desperate than she was, but honestly there was no reason for them to interact. They didn’t split on bad terms, they split on no terms. Her father always had a strange relationship with her varying from warmth to ignoring. It wasn’t bad, never bad, but it was confusing. She had no idea on which day she would be the bastard child and on what days he would look at her as just a child.

“Interesting.” Caranthir looked at her and smiled as if she was supposed to understand their politics. She knew her father had power and resources. She never knew how much, no one cared to explain that to her, why would they? “If only Ge’els knew.”

“If only Ge’els knew what?” a tall lean man with blond-silver hair approached them. If Aine didn’t know better she would call him a king, there was something regal about the way he walked and held himself. His clothes were formal but simple, his gaze sharp as a cat on a hunt.

Caranthir was about to open his mouth but Aine looked at him pleading and he just smiled. “We were talking about art, seems like lord Eurig found a painter who can match your skills.”

“Interesting.” the man narrowed his eyes, she couldn’t decide if he saw through the lie or was truly offended by the art comment. “Are you not going to introduce me?”

“Ge’els, you know everybody here, do I need to introduce you?” Caranthir smiled almost pleasantly, Aine looked confused, not sure what was going on.

“I know where she came from, I know what you have been doing, but…” the man stepped closer and bent forward a bit. “Fascinating mix of human and elven lines. Almost perfect balance...and the eyes, different colors, very human but also elven... You should come to my studio some time.”

“She would not.” Caranthir moved between her and Ge’els, not even realizing what possessed him to do that. Showing he cared was giving the man advantage but at the same time something in him just stung. He knew very well what Ge’els did with most of his models and that was not happening. Not now not ever.

Ge’els smiled, his eyes fixed on Caranthir. He was going to use that against him, not now, he had no reason to do it now, but one day there will be something that Ge’els would want from him and he would use that moment. No more words were exchanged, there was no need for that, Ge’els just walked away to his next victim and Caranthir had to figure out what he could hold over the adviser’s head. A servant passed and he grabbed two glasses but when he looked at Aine her glass was still full from last time. He drank one glass and kept the other.

“Do you dance?” she randomly asked him. That was the first time she probably asked him a question.

“No.” He answered curtly then he realized it was a party and he had brought her here. So far all they had done was being short with with her and drinking. That was not how he wanted to be, but he also felt that everything he might say could scare her even further away from him, if that was even possible. “However, I do that.” he focused on a man who was standing behind Imlerith, seemingly without a reason the man lost his balance and hit Imlerith, his drink spilling over the general. What followed was angry Imlerith and a man who was very afraid.

“Nothing like juvenile behaviour to impress a woman.” Avallac’h’s voice spoke on his left and Caranthir turned making sure he did not get to talk to Aine the same way Ge’els did. Giving one of them advantage was more than enough for a night. “You are one of the greatest mages here and you use your magic for...what?”

Caranthir stared at him. He wasn’t a child anymore, he could use his magic for whatever he wanted. “Maybe you should have tried it with Lara. Maybe juvenile behaviour would have impressed her more than...what? Moonlight walks?”

They looked at each other. They had crossed a line, Avallac’h knew it and Caranthir knew it, but neither of them was going to step back.

“I hear Eredin wants you to take my place.” Avallac’h smiled.

“He should have done it sooner, with all the disappointment you have delivered.” Caranthir had gotten better at that. Years ago he would have lost his temper. Now the whole interaction was burning him from the inside, but he was still in control.

“The only disappointment I ever delivered is you, Caranthir.” Avallac’h face was emotionless but Caranthir saw how pleased he was in his eyes. “Truce?”

“Why are you even talking to me?” Caranthir’s frustration was growing, it wasn’t Avallac’h’s words, he couldn’t care less what his teacher thought. He hated being treated like a child and that was always how it started and ended.

“It is a social event Caranthir, people come to social events to socialize.” again that patronizing tone as if he was a toddler who needs to be scolded. “I heard an interesting story, from one of your servants. Yesterday when you came to my room I really wondered what despaired you so much to come.”

“Can you stay out of my business?” Caranthir raised his voice maybe a bit too much as could of people nearby turned their heads.

“I would, but you made it my business, remember, you asked.” he was right about that, his own internal tournament had pushed him there. “I’m happy for you.” there was no mockery in his voice, not as he said that. “I’m sure you will handle it well.” there came the mockery.

Caranthir wasn’t even angry that Avallac’h was teasing him, he was angry because Avallac’h was right. He couldn’t handle it well, he could turn a dragon into stardust but he could not control his own emotions or feelings.

“At least I won’t be left for a human.” he gave Avallac’h a smile.

“No but...you were left.” at first Caranthir didn’t understand what his teacher was talking about, but then he turned. Aine was gone.

Aine stopped listening to the conversation that was happening between Caranthir and the other man as soon as the navigator turned his back at her. There was her chance she just needed to calmly find her way to the door and from there the main gate and she would be free. Caranthir’s focus was entirely on the man, his whole body language had changed and she knew he was not paying attention to her, it was as if she had stopped existing, which was exactly what she needed.

She made a careful step backwards, wondering if he would notice, but nothing happened. Another one. Nothing happened. Then she turned around and started walking as calmly as she could, without running, but her feet just wanted to move faster and be out of there. She passed a pair of guards but nobody paid attention to her...of course they didn't. She was dressed like all the other guests, who would stop her. By the time she passed the last set of guards before the main gate she was running. It was so close to her freedom, she would be out of this terrible place and terrifying people.

Suddenly she saw a bright light ahead of her and she lost her balance, falling back on the cold ground. A portal with frost edges appeared before her and Caranthir stepped out of it. Her blood froze in her body. She was almost sure he would kill her now. Didn’t matter if she could not have her freedom, death was a good alternative compared to everything else he could do to her. His face did not betray anything, nor anger nor satisfaction, like most of the night he was just unreadable. He leaned forward and grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her up. Aine didn’t make a sound, she knew whatever was coming was neither going to be gentle nor pleasant. She had to accept it.

He turned her around, her arms crossed over her chest, his wrapped around her. In different circumstances his embrace might be even romantic, now she just felt as if he was about to crush her, pulling her close to his body.

“Crafty little spell that allows me to find you anywhere. You think I would take you out of your cage and just hope for the best?” he was leaning forward whispering in her ear, she could sense the warmth of his breath. “Where do you even think you are going?”

“Home!” She tried to free herself but he was way stronger and his grip was too firm.

“Silly girl. Your home is gone. We burned it to stop the humans from hiding so deep in the woods. You have no home.”

“You are lying!” he must be, there was no reason he would be telling the truth. “And even if you are not lying, anywhere is better than here.”

“Are you sure?” his grip around her eased, he turned her around, his hands still holding hers. It was dark but his pale eyes were reflecting whatever little light was in the yard, he was like a wild beast. “Half human half elf mut, alone in the world. How will that work for you? The elves will look down on you, always. Humans will never accept you, you are better than them why should they.” His words hurt but that did not mean they were a lie. There was a reason she lived far away from everybody. Sure at first she did not have a choice, but then she realized that she would never be accepted by any of them. She will always be different.

“So what, I’m supposed to do? Stay here?” she tried to sound confident, but the words had no bite.

“Why not?” he tilted his head as if he was studying something on her and then reached for her face, his fingers brushing her jaw almost loverlike. “I can teach you magic, you can have whatever you want.”

“I want a home. My home.” Honestly that was all she ever wanted, but right now for her it meant anywhere but here. She was scared, he had made it clear he wanted her here, she was denying him that, she couldn’t see herself living a long and happy life past that point.

Nothing happened for a very long moment, his face remained unchanged, she could read nothing on it. “You can go.” he finally said. “The guards won’t bother you.”

Caranthir didn’t want to watch her go so he turned around and walked back to the castle, angry. He could evaporate everyone here just to satisfy the temper. He wasn’t angry with her, she did the most logical thing one could do, saw an opportunity and used it.

He saw a servant carrying a bottle of alcohol and he grabbed it.

His first mistake was that assumed he could ever be happy in that way. His second mistake was listening to Avallac’h. His third mistake was he allowed himself to believe his teacher. In reality Crevan was right, Caranthir was a cage filled with anger, spite and violence, that was him leaving the cage door open and what happened? His bird left. If he had kept it close she would be here now with him. No, if he had kept her here she would have fought him and things would never go his way. At least not the way he wanted them to go.

He found himself back in the main hall and went straight to the balcony, no one was there so he could drink in peace. He leaned against the railing and watched the city. He could sense her, in a moment of reason he had put a curse on himself to be able to feel her. She might go wherever but he would know where she was and what she felt. He drank. The way she looked at him...she never turned her eyes away at his face, she never even said anything about it. Was it fear or she just...didn’t care? He drank. He could see her mismatching eyes looking at him, pleading with him to let her go. Was he that bad? Was he really that terrible that he did not deserve someone who can accept him for what he was? He drank. Probably locking someone in a room for a week was not the way to do it either…

“My lord.” someone spoke behind him and Caranthir turned around. Ailin Eurig was standing there, Aine’s father. He could pick some of the features from his face on hers, elegance of the face, the thin nose, better suited for her face then his. “Forgive me for the bluntness, but I couldn’t fail to notice the woman that was with you tonight.”

Caranthir narrowed his eyes. He knew that was not a social visit, it was a game. He had started the game by accident by bringing her here, but now the game was unfolding. If he was sober or less angry he could probably figure the game sooner, but he wasn’t so he waited.

“She reminded me of someone, someone I have not seen in years.” the man continued after he saw Caranthir will not respond.

“Yes, she is your daughter.” He decided to cut to the chase, he wasn’t in the mood for long pointless conversation, he needed the man to get to the point.

“Fascinating really.” The man seemed amused and Caranthir could feel his anger building once more. “I’m impressed. From my bastard daughter, who left the home rather ungrateful for everything I had provided for her to your bed. Then again humans and their offspring are good for one thing and one thing only. I hope she brings you as much joy as her mother brought me.” It was the words that burned in Caranthir’s mind but also the man’s smile. He did not care what he thought about the humans as a whole, nor about half elves, but that was personal. He didn’t view her as half elf, she was...like him and she completed parts of him that he was missing. If he was sober or less angry he would probably come up with a clever remark, make the man feel small and walk away. He was neither. Also he wished she was in his bed, not even because of lust, he needed to hold her and be held desperately.

Caranthir turned his whole attention to the man, holding the bottle in his left hand he grabbed him by the throat with his right and pushed him toward the railing. Half of the man’s body was hanging outside all Caranthir needed was just a bit more and the man would decorate Eredin’s front courtyard.

“I cannot decide right now if I want to push you down or I want to turn you in a worm and go fishing tomorrow.” the man’s hands gripped around his wrist but Caranthir was drunk and he didn’t think straight. In that moment he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned. Eredin was standing there.

“Whatever that is, you are neither pushing him down, nor you are feeding the fish with him.” Eredin squeezed his shoulder as if knowing Caranthir was past reason at that point, not even because of the man he was about to kill, he just happened to be the last drop in a very full glass. He stepped back letting the man step on the balcony.

“Your majesty!” Ailin was red and gasping. “Outrageous! Your navigator needs to know his place that was unprovoked attacked and he needs to be punished for that.”

“Punished?” Eredin smiled. “My lord, if I have four peasants, I can make myself four lords. If I have four lords, I cannot make even half of Caranthir.” the king stopped letting the words sink in the air. “I think my navigator and I need to have a conversation if you excuse us.”

The man bowed his head and walked away obviously getting the message of who is more replaceable. Carathir wasn’t proud of himself he knew he overreacted over something he usually probably wouldn’t. Or even sober and calm he would have reacted like that again as it was personal. Eredin looked at him, green eyes filled with...disappointment. First Avallac’h, then Aine and now Eredin.

“What was that all about?” the king finally asked after he had subjugated his navigator to his tortuous look for long enough.

“He said something, I took it personally.” he finally responded, he couldn’t believe the shame in his voice.

“Was it personal?” Eredin seemed curious.

He could lie. He could say yes. But it wasn’t. The man said what almost everybody else thought. Humans were below them and half elves had this strange place in their society that no one could truly define, but certainly they were not Aen Elle. It wasn’t like he and Imlerith had never made a joke about that. But it was also personal, the joke was not about them, the humans or them the half elves. It was about someone Caranthir cared about on a level he did not truly understand. He didn’t answer.

“Your arrogance does not need to hear that, but I will say it once.” Eredin leaned forward and grabbed the back of Carantjir’s head pulling him closer, his lips on the navigator’s ear. “You are valuable to me, and I like you. But I’m the king and I have a kingdom to rule and so happens his lordship is one of the richest and most influential people here. Ge’els tells me he is weak, but he has a son who isn’t, you kill the weak worm, we end up in a civil war. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Caranthir nodded, Eredin rarely spelled out things so loud and clear which only enhanced the gravity of the situation. He knew politics was fragile right now. Despite all the power Eredin held, there were people who just needed an excuse to turn the tables. There were those who thought themselves better than him and those who simply didn’t like him. Mages had ruled over Aen Elle for years and now someone else held the crown. Everyone needed an excuse.

“Ge’els will fix things, you get yourself out of Tir na Lia for a few days.” Eredin stepped back, there was fire burning in his eyes. Caranthir knew if Eredin had a choice he wouldn’t care what happened here, but the crown did not give him more freedom, it did the opposite. He nodded again. Ge’els will do his political talk and Caranthir will be out of sight so he does not add salt to the injury. He preferred to be in the mountains anyway, at least until he figured out his other problem.

[shewhowillnotbenamed1]

Snowed In

-Hey! From the prompt list Dialogue 41 & 42, Situation 100 & 101 & 105 and as a setting I was thinking about an accommodation on the mountains :) -Omg... I am the anon with the make up sex while stuck in a snow storm... I forgot to say the pairing: Damirae💜💜

-----

Over an hour and still, she hadn't moved.

Raven sat on the cream-colored leather couch in the Great Room, staring aimlessly out of the A frame window. Not far beyond it, towering pine trees stood perched on the mountains where they continued to amass a heavy coating of frost. But Raven was hardly admiring the foliage in an illustrious winter landscape. With her head nestled in her hand and eyelids drooping, she had to be dozing off.

Damian's heavy footsteps creaked on the hardwood floor to little reaction, so she was definitely asleep. He brushed her shoulder, and she didn't budge an inch. "Raven." He murmured as he nudged her. She let out an incoherent mumble. "I know..." Damian said softly, staring at her sleeping face through half-lidded eyes. "But, you can't be comfortable sleeping like that..." Gently, his fingers plucked at the zipper to her coat.

Suddenly, she blinked, sitting up, ramrod straight. Promptly, she gathered up her coat around her body. "What exactly are you doing?" Raven asked accusingly.

It was an electric shock - so abrupt it was like a switch had been tripped.

"I was trying to help, that jacket was practically suffocating you," he grumbled. Through emerald slits, he regarded nothing but suspicion in her narrowing amethysts. "Don't get excited." As he drew back, he half considered retreating to the other side of the room to avoid the bursts of icy wind she blasted his way. But then, he took another look outside the window. "Raven, the storm is getting pretty bad out there. I don't think..." He saw her eyes flicker, in understanding.

"Jaime, Jon, Kori... They're not coming...?" She confirmed carefully. "Are they?"

"Well according to the weather reports, no." Damian answered, with a long pause to inspect his phone, glancing at an influx of warning messages and weather alerts for the area. "At least not today, they're not."

"I see..." Raven sounded worried. "We really are snowed in..."

"So it seems," he said, his tone taciturn. "You should at least make yourself comfortable." Damian shrugged. "Unpack?" He added under his breath.

"I'm comfortable here."

Damian frowned. "The chalet is hardly a shack." His vert orbs flitted over the high beams ceilings and A shaped walls of windows. "You don't have to confine yourself to the couch." He sighed. "But, since no one else is here yet... you can get the first pick of all the rooms." This seemed to appeal to her, as Raven immediately started to wrestle with her suitcase. "I can help you with that," he offered.

"I've got it." Raven continued, her back to him. Undismayed, he reached down for the handle. "I'm okay - thanks." She yanked her bag up from the floor and marched away in the opposite direction without another word.

Had he offended her without knowing it?

Damian could attest to feeling discomfited. Watching those tall black boots retreat was like watching a painful burn singeing and etching its way through flesh. His chest felt constricted each time she pulled away from him.

The way she had acted, as if he had played some part in arranging and orchestrating the whole thing as some sort of convoluted plot to get her alone.

Damian ran a hand down his face in defeat.

It was shaping up to be a long afternoon leading into what would undoubtedly be a long night.

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

Begrudgingly, Damian shut his laptop and decided to see how Raven was settling in. He knew he was hardly being a gracious host, but she wasn't exactly making it easy on him.

They were stuck together in a snowstorm, for an indeterminable amount of time, but it could be worse. Raven was hardly someone to let out endless strings of complaints or run herself into the ground with horrifying hypotheticals. No, there was no fear of that with her. She was rational and level-headed to her core - everything one needed in a crisis.

But it also meant she didn't need him.

The way she had recoiled from him... He had never known his heart or his head could be so unbidden to the laws of gravity. The hollow that carved into his chest when Raven walked away without a second look - it was a new level of unnatural. No, there wasn't much fear of anything with her. Their present situation had rendered her general level of apathy.

Why did all that apathy extend to him?

As Damian stared down the endless hallways of the chalet, he realized he didn't even know which room she had selected.

Maybe, he was a bad host after all.

Just around the corner from the corridor of windows, the answer arrived. Remnants of steam escaped before evaporating into the air above an open door. In the second largest bedroom, Raven sat on the bed in a white robe, her legs bare, black polish on twiddling toes, and an open book in her lap.

Oh, Gods.

He had found her - all of her.

Here Raven was barely dressed in bed and still so distractingly damp from the bath. By the way he was practically zeroing in on her heat-signature through the fabric, the green laser-beams had to be scorching her.

It was a minute before he realized he was there to check on her. He was not supposed to linger in her doorway uninvited, staring at her for longer than appropriate. Of course, Raven in a state of indecency was something Damian couldn't just tear himself away from. This storm was surely testing the limits of his survival.

"Hey." He rapped on the door frame gently. "You look relaxed..." He managed tightly. "I presume you've settled in?"

"Oh, Damian..." Raven closed her book and leapt up. "I'll just be a minute." She rose quickly to close the door.

Damian's hand twitched. This was the second time. For the second time today the sight of him or their proximity made Raven flinch. An electric impulse fired straight to his synapses - something in him snapped.

"No, you won't..." He heard the dangerous utterance from his lips, barely registering himself saying the words. And in a flash, the wood was barred firmly behind his rough palm.

Briefly Raven looked fearful, but it went away as quickly as it had come. "Damian...?" Her brow furrowed in frustration. "What is this?"

The time for politeness and niceties had elapsed. His tone had gone harsh. "We've been here for hours and you've barely said a word to me."

"That's not true," Raven said quickly. "Besides, that was just seven." She corrected him.

Unbelievable.

"You're incredible." Damian leveled her a blank stare to match the sarcasm. "I know you don't like me." Her lips parted and his curled. "Tch." He held up a hand. "You were silent for hours, so I'll talk." Sharpened icicles hurled his way, pitched off of a bone-chilling glare. But, it barely pierced his hide and he continued. "You think I'm arrogant, or emotionally stunted - whatever." Raven's usual sullenness shifted to annoyance. "But, it doesn't matter. We don't know when this storm is ending or how long we'll be stuck together."

"Way to state the obvious..." Raven muttered under her breath.

There was no doubt Raven thought he was a bad host now, if she hadn't already. And while hosting her was exceedingly difficult, Alfred would haven been ashamed of him regardless.

"Look, we have all the same friends... shouldn't we be able to get along? Or try?" Damian offered more gently. "I feel like I don't know you..."

Raven released the huge sigh she had been holding in. "You're right." Damian felt his stomach drop and all that previous frustration became misplaced. He hadn't actually wanted to be right. To be here and know that Raven would rather be anywhere else - with anyone else. It was more painful than endless bites of arctic wind. "Although...only about some of that." Raven murmured, rubbing her shoulder. And then, she frowned. "But mostly, that - you don't know me."

"What...?"

"You don't know me." Raven said again. "Not aside from the fact you think I would make baseless judgments. And about someone I don't know... Or at least someone I don't really know..." She shook her head. "You and I... we've never spent any real time together, certainly not like this." She gestured to the snow covered windows.

That sounded like a challenge.

"You think...I don't know you?" Damian cocked his head, his green eyes boring into her. "So, let me. We've got time." The husky undertone his voice took up was involuntary. "We'll see if you're right..."

Raven's eyes darted between the muscular mass of man and the door, apparently not anticipating that turn. "Damian, I...don't know if that's a good idea right now."

"Why not?" Damian pressed. "We don't exactly have anywhere to be." His ire began to rise. "You've been acting like you don't want to be around me since we got here. And I want to know why."

Damian angled his body to her own, fixing her with a darkening glare of his own. And this time she broke the electric webs of their connection, seeking solace in the hardwood floor.

Raven huffed. "Fine." In a very low voice she spoke. "Sometimes... I'm emotionally stunted - too..." She crossed her arms. "It's not you." She sounded strained.

This was why?

"Oh..." Damian's lips started to quirk up in a half-smirk. But wait. "I thought you hated me."

"No..." Raven sank down onto the bed, her legs folded under her. "You make me nervous."

"I do?" He scoffed. Damian shook his head. "Well, you're the one who's intimidating..." He could see rose creep up her cheeks out of the corner of his eye. "You froze me out way worse than the weather out there by the way." She made him second guess everything. Like staying at the chalet was subpar and not up to her standards.

"Pfft." The purple orbs rounded the ceiling, as if it was child's play to practice that level of stoicism. "So says the man who just took over the board of Wayne Enterprise." Raven quipped. "It is a very nice chalet, by the way - a present from your daddy, perhaps?"

"Oh, I see." Damian began, crossing his arms and leaning closer. "You do know how to joke. I knew it."

"Go ahead." Raven flushed mid-glower. "Tell anyone you want, no one will believe it. Or that this conversation ever happened."

"I don't care about that, or what anyone thinks. I like this side of you... I always knew it was there." Damian said bluntly. "I actually wanted to give us some time alone on this trip, to get to know each other." No denials, no filter, Damian told her.

"You - did?"

"Yes." This time, Raven didn't flee and he sat down across from her. "But at a restaurant or a late night movie... At the top of the ski lift." Damian avoided her gaze. "I didn't mean for it to be in a blizzard..." His shoulders sagged and he trailed away. "But if something aligned in the universe to make this happen, I'm glad to be with you..."

Raven's eyes shone and she granted him a smile. It was the most stunning and sincere smile he had ever seen; Damian hadn't known her face could even move that way. "I suppose it could stand to be worse..." His hand playfully brushed the ends of the sash holding up her robe and Raven's cheeks burned brighter. She cleared her throat, as if suddenly realizing what was happening. They were sitting in her bed together and she was half dressed. Raven flew to her feet, and they both eyed the door. "This was great - you're great, but I should change... Really..."

"Don't..." Damian rose slowly, moving tentatively to her. "Not just yet." Suddenly, he was irrationally afraid that if she closed the door to change - she might change. Raven's walls would be replaced and this conversation forgotten.

He fingered the neck of her robe as she stared at him. "Damian, I..." Seconds after he closed his eyes, he felt two hands press hard into his chest. "Stop." Damian froze, feeling foolish. And somehow, this exceedingly was worse than before.

"Raven, I thought...you were done avoiding me..." Blinking jade orbs glanced around at the room. "What just...happened?" He asked. It was unclear whether he meant the change in lighting or her...

It certainly was peculiar. Evening was approaching, but it wasn't as dark a few moments ago.

Was it?

Raven answered his thoughts. "The lights." She flipped the light switch over and over. No feedback. No flicker or spark. Just darkness. She shook her head worriedly. "I think the power went out." Quickly, Raven turned on her phone's flashlight.

"Oh." Damian watched her search through drawers and closets for flashlights and batteries, or any emergency supplies. "Look, I'm sorry -"

Raven ran a hand through her hair. "Where do you keep your candles?" She asked, not bothering to bemoan the circumstances that were decidedly less than favorable. Her survival instincts had kicked in at full-force.

Damian slowly came back to his; he knew the place better than she did. He would take care of this and salvage things as best he could. "The matches and candles are in the kitchen. I'll get some supplies - flashlights and blankets. And then, I'll find you. For now... Wait here." He brushed her shoulder. And Damian disappeared with a glowing phone screen lighting up the hallway of a suddenly cavernous chalet.

Raven called after him. "Where would I go?"

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

Damian shuffled the split birch logs onto the fireplace and prodded them with iron tongs. After the fire was adequately tended, he shut the glass door and sat down to watch the flames. "It should start to heat up in here soon." He called over his shoulder to her. "You should join me in front of the fire." He patted the fur rug. "With the power off it's going to get cold in here fast."

"I'm not cold." Raven eyed the spot next to him with disdain.

"Raven, there's no way you're warm in that." Damian gestured to her robe.

"I feel fine - and I'm fine here." She crossed her legs on the couch.

Damian blinked in disbelief. There was a harrowing storm outside and she preferred to suffer in silence rather than be anywhere near him. "We can't be doing this again... Are we back to that?" He spat.

"Back to what?" Raven countered lackadaisically.

"You're avoiding me," Damian volleyed pointedly. "Aren't you?" His finger jabbing the air before falling to his side.

"I'm not avoiding you - we're in the same room." She glanced around at the living room.

Damian stared blankly at the glass encased fireplace before him. "And you couldn't be further away."

Unexpectedly, Raven rose to her feet. She marched over to him, with her chin high and her arms folded over her chest. The molten glare she wore rivaled the burning logs in the hearth.

She stood in the center of the candles she had placed around the room. And as she did, Damian tried not to think of how the glowing purple reflected the firelight, or the shapes and shading sliding, flickering their way across dewy skin.

The fireplace.

And Raven before the blaze.

The smoky smell of logs aflame was a drug of vetiver and earthiness of the deep forest. Even a thousand cold showers wouldn't quell Damian's head or cool his body; he would have to stand out in the storm for any chance to alleviate the burning in him.

"We're not doing this, Damian. You owe me an explanation, and not the other way around." She swallowed sharply. "What was that in my room? Before...what were you trying to do...?"

"You know what it was." His jaw hardened. "Don't act like you don't."

"I mean..." Raven hesitated. "Why would you want to do that...with me?"

"You don't know why...?" Damian frowned. He had told her everything, and she was giving him nothing. "Tch..." He clicked his tongue. "I don't know, Raven, why would I want to touch you - or spend time with you...?" He threw up his hands. "Why would I say those things or try to kiss you?" She blinked, turning away. "Of course, all that and still - I'm the last person you want to be stuck here with."

"Stop," she ordered. "Just, stop." Raven settled down next to him. She didn't speak for a moment, instead she licked her lips and parted them. Mulling over her thoughts to select her next words carefully. "Damian, you're not."

He shook his head, refusing to look at her. "Raven... Don't. Unless you mean it." Damian drew a palm down his face. "Just, don't." He couldn't bare much more of the back and forth - the cruel sport.

"You're not...the last person," she whispered. Raven placed a firm, comforting hand on his black turtleneck. And when his back went rigid, she crept over in front of him to replace that hand on his chest. This time it was not to push him away, but to caress him. "Hey... Damian." She jostled his shoulder, until he glanced up. "Look at me, please."

Raven was kneeling before him on the rug with her knees disappearing into the ivory fur. The robe was so loosely tied, he could see a satin strap. Then, it gave way to an edge of a lace cup. An unrestrained warmth rose up inside him. His pants tightened, the heavy viridian stare darkened around the sight. "You ought to fix that." His voice was raspy when he spoke at last. Damian crooked his head in warning. "Unless you want to...give me a little show..."

Raven held his gaze for an everlasting breath, before she reached down. "What would you do if...I did?" Pale fingers deftly tugged the sash, allowing it to fall open completely. The crackle of flames licking up logs faded away. The snowflakes fell in slow motion. Time stood frozen. Raven's robe was draping off her, fabric bunched up on her arms, exposing her in ways he had only dreamed of. "Isn't this what you want?"

Damian breathing became labored, his body tensed from the strain. It was as though prying his eyes away from her would cause physical pain.

All that coursed through him was a need to feel her against him. It was surging through his soul and possessing him. Suspending his thoughts and taking over every action. It was overpowering and all too much - just as it was not enough.

No more layers or barriers between.

It was exactly what he wanted.

"Yes... And you...?" He growled low under his tongue.

"Yes, Damian."

At last, his lungs became functional as he resumed a normal intake of air. The need to touch her would splinter him to the core.

"Tell me... how you feel - I need to know."

It was brief, but her body trembled. "I..." Her teeth caught her bottom lip. "Don't want to be here with anyone else. Or stuck with anyone else," she murmured in an echo of earlier. "Just you..." She was open. For him. "I need you..." Those words sent shivers down his spine to his shaft. The space between them had become too vast.

Damian longed to rise to the mountain summit with her, he wanted to be out there on the peak before they plummeted together into a pit of madness.

He couldn't take it.

By the way she was sweeping locks off her neck, Damian surely would weaken from exposure.

The column was bared, almost in beckoning. At last, Damian cursed in Arabic, taking hold of Raven, his hands gripped her shoulders, and pushed her body backwards onto the rug.

Lashings of hair splashed out to stain the pure white fur with purple.

It was more breathtaking and more stunning than the snowflakes descending from the sky. More flawless than the untouched landscape outside the windows, a winter wonderland crafted from brush strokes by the hand of Thomas Kinkade. The pure white of the snowfall beyond the chalet held no candle to Raven's miles of opalite.

Before him was the inconceivable, a fantasy of snow-colored skin framed by a mauve colored bra with lace scallop edges in plum. His pine eyes lingered on the bow in the center of her matching panties. A shudder wracked through him and it was the wild call of the raven. Damian desired nothing more than to answer her. To consume her with his heat, his mouth and his hands. Damian dragged his fingers to her collarbone and the tops of her breasts, splaying a hand across her hammering heartbeat.

Little more than thin scraps of satin stood between him and her skin.

All those layers.

He'd had enough of the layers and the walls.

No more.

Frenzied fingers ripped the robe clean away. But, there was still too much space and too much fabric between them. He needed her bare. A haze lifted from Damian and dark fingers dove for the hook to shed her of the balconette bra. Unbound, at last, her chest rose and fell like tides.

If there was anything on this Earth that he had ever found so captivating...

The cream color of her flesh blurred beautifully, bleeding into the rug. Save for pink lips, mouthing frenetic little nothings and her nipples, red and hard, it was almost difficult to tell where it ended and she began. His cock pained at the confinement. Pupils enlarging at the sight, he was voracious and evidently, she was breathless. He traced the spaces his hand had occupied with his mouth. His lips and tongue circled around her neck and chest in spirals. Over and over.

Damian ignored Raven's gasps and hisses, he teased her and nipped everywhere but at the stiff peaks. Pleading, liquid purple seared straight through him. By the needy grunt of his name, the tug of his hair - Raven needed him.

This is exactly how he wanted her.

Damian's hand smoothed down her shapely legs, drawing his eyes up and down her figure.

The firelight was casting on them a mesmerizing glow. The setting sun was starting up more shadows around the room to accompany all the flickering shapes from the candles in tiny glass jars. It was hypnotic. He had gotten his alone time with her. Despite nature's intervention, it couldn't have been more intimate if he had planned it himself.

Damian was unable to resist, threading his fingers through the silk of her hair. And at last, his teeth caught a nipple, rolling it between them. Raven moaned heatedly and amethyst eyes had become molten, her hips were turning. Each nip from his mouth and every brush of his fingers sent a rush of pleasure, a cacophony in a cyclone slipping across her skin and over her center. All the sensations were heightened by the luxurious fur lapped along every naked curve. Damian shifted their bodies onto their sides. Raven's leg started slinging up over him, coming to rest at his hip.

He rumbled low in his throat. Raven had curled her leg tight to bring him right up to her core. Their pelvises ground in circles, in fraught intimation of the act they frantically desired. They cradled each other close, while their bodies clamored to meet each other's heat. Raven's eyes squeezed shut, no doubt watching a motion picture, the whirlwind of her pleasure behind her eyelids.

Oh. This.

He had longed to claim her forge himself with her firelight.

Immerse himself in her hearth.

Lust was taking her over, Raven was grabbing his shirt with one hand with the other threaded through his belt loops, yanking hard. She wanted his pants off. But when he wouldn't yield, she wrapped another leg around his waist as though to tell him she wanted him on top of her.

His dark chuckle gave way to grunts. A frantic rocking of her hips sent him prickles of pleasure. The hardness brushing softness. Like a match striking his skin where he needed it most, Raven drove her barely covered core over Damian's length in his jeans.

"You like this..." She let out a little noise that was all the affirmation he needed. "Oh I know you do. You can't deny it any longer..."

Raven nibbled her lip. "Do you, Damian...? Just as sudden you know how I feel -" And Damian turned her chin back to him.

"You like being here with me -"

Defiantly, she seared him with his eyes. "I haven't anywhere else to be." They fluttered to close as he drew his lips to her sensitive neck to bring forth the shudders of her body vibrating its betrayal.

"You like...my hands all over you..." His hand flew to her breastbone. The midline of her chest, down her abdomen, it dove between their bodies in search of wet and warm. Damian's fingers ran over the front of her soaked panties. Up and down.

"Oh, Gods..."

Raven's body twisted and twitched, pulling at the sweater she held tight in her fist. "And you..."

"Damian, I -"

"You like me..."

They disappeared under the side of her underwear to dive straight for her hearth. And all was lost, to the sea of sensation, their minds had gone hazy, clouded over with pleasure from the frenzy of his fevered touch. Damian tried to steady his thoughts.

"Oh, you're soaked." Raven was reckless, moving wildly, she rocked her hips into his hand, while his thumb reached up, rounding the pink pearl. Over and over, dizzying, electric in ovals. Circling, until brilliant green, orange and red blurred in her eyes and she couldn't control her body or the noises escaping her.

"Fu-ck." She burst out. It was so uncharacteristic, a smirk started to slide straight onto his face. But, little mattered, because she was close. Very close. A well of pride began surging up and swelling in his chest at the pleasure Raven was receiving by his fingers, their push into glorious pink. "Mmm-"

Yes.

In a rush, he had caught her plump mouth against his own. Her body shuddered like she was on the verge and he too was shaking, on the brink of losing his body to the wilds. The wind had swept his sanity away from him ages ago. They were out in fierce zephyrs, a storm of their own creation, they never wanted to resurface from.

Not even to come up for air.

Raven and Damian grasped each other fiercely, desperate, nearing drunkenness in their mutual hunger to share heat.

He hissed when Raven gripped his back. His hair. His forearm. Indented skin under her iridescence. Delicious pale folds were lifting from the floor to meet his hand in time. Ascending - rising up to mountains and descending - dipping down into valleys. Raven cried out - her chest thrust out each time her hips bucked down.

Damian felt her core clenching his fingers and drenching them, shivering, savoring the sweetest release. He needed more than warmth or heat - he needed hers. Damian captured Raven's lips in another kiss, tongue seeking tongue, fierce, needy and wet. In the fervent exchange, he marveled at everything around him.

He and Raven were weaving themselves together into something he barely recognized, but he wanted it. All of it - the messy, the vulnerable, the raw...

Everything.

This was just the tip of the iceberg of what he wanted to do with her. To be with her.

"No, don't stop -" The sentence ended in a high pitched shriek.

Yes.

A full-fingered jerk of his hand sent her falling into him, her face buried straight into his shoulder, breathing heavily on his neck. A zenith on the horizon. Raven was right on precipice, begging for relief. Another curve upward, and at last. Her body's climax sent streams of syrupy sweet down his hand.

And with it visions. Oh, how her sacred water sent him visions.

They formed, crystalline behind his eyes like the surface of a snowflake at its microscopic core.

Before him was the opportunity to get to know Raven in the best way.

Wholly and completely.

To stay up all night talking and feeding each other imported macaroons as they lay in bed. This was only of course, after they were sufficiently sated from earlier activities and basking in the afterglow. Surely they needed to spend adequate time getting acquainted with each other in the sheets.

In the morning, they'd take an extended dip in the indoor pool and then, in one of the outdoor hot tubs. And there, he would finally pluck the knotted string of her drenched black bikini. When they overheated, their skin reddened from the hot water and steam, they would run out onto the mountain. And none but the wilderness would see the shapes engraved into the snow from where their love-making had dissolved the powder around their bodies.

Damian hoped the snow storm wouldn't die down for another day or two or three. Then, it would be him and Raven alone. Exploring each other. Tasting each other. Making love. Damian could pleasure her until she lost all control, screaming out to mountain tops, purple eyes alight with showering stars that sparked off into the night. And when the waves subsided, her black polished fingernails would retreat from where they had dug lasting impressions in his back.

One didn't have to leave the chalet to know they would be the most memorable souvenirs from the trip.

But if she wanted to see stars he hadn't created behind her eyelids. They could sit beneath them, out there on the deck, on the mountain. Here, away from the city lights in Gotham, they could find clarity in an unobscured night sky.

Raven would whisper the names of constellations and mythologies into Damian's ear, her low rasp, like sin and the filthiest dirty talk. Her arms would drape his neck, as she sat in his lap, nestled into him. In counter, Damian would whisper back tales of corvus, watching her stunned expression morph into delight. She would stroke his cheek and seal her mouth to his. And with every kiss, their breaths would mingle together as one.

Damian delved a finger into his mouth for a taste of Raven's sumptuous glaze. It was intoxicating, with the creamy flavor causing his eyes to close in pleasure.

At this, he could see them, in matching robes. With their hands, pink from the chill, they would clutch mugs of the darkest, drinking-chocolate, hand-cut marshmallows and dollops of thick whipped cream. And when, Raven licked her finger, the corner of her mouth would tug about as Damian fought off a knowing look.

They would have found themselves back where it all began - in front of the fireplace, and Raven in a robe. Such sentiment wouldn't be lost. And Damian would begin to press her back onto the rug, and reveal her bare body. He would spread her legs apart and start lifting her thighs right up to his face.

With the hot chocolate abandoned, Damian would drink her down until his craving for rich, decadence was properly sated. Those strokes of a silver-tongue, would embolden Raven's wantonness, while her body wracked with wave after wave of a maelstrom. Before finally, wrenching her fingers through his dark hair, screaming wild abandon to the mountain.

Damian's thoughts swirled, blowing, scattered snow, thinking of all they would be.

All they could be.

Everything and anything - possibilities seemed absolutely endless.

The chalet, this night, it was theirs to explore. Together.

Damian traced the bridge of Raven's collarbone, inhaling the spiced plum and lilac. He whispered lovingly in Arabic, pressing the seam of his lips along her chest, as they trailed downward.

Whatever the universe had wrought brought them to this. It wouldn't end - this was only the beginning of the storm and what was between them.

A flash of bright lights overhead was sudden.

The muffled sound of a generator and the heat began to pour in.

The power was back. The storm must have started to die down. Damian and Raven sprang apart. Purple eyes widened, as Raven stared at his body, completely covered while she lay half-naked. Fighting off a furious blush, her arms quickly surrounded her chest. Oh Gods. The lights were fixed, the storm was ending - the spell was officially broken. All that was left was for their friends to burst through that door for normalcy to resume.

And if they did, would she pretend this never happened?

Damian wasn't sure he could handle it. "Raven...?" He tried tentatively. She wasn't looking at him, her body in an instant had gone rigid and cold. It had little to do with temperature, it seemed to be a reflex where Damian was concerned.

She lifted her eyebrows to his confusion. "Well, this turned out all wrong, didn't it?"

He hadn't been sure what she would say next, but he wasn't expecting this. "We both... I thought we both wanted this." Damian let out a frustrated noise, not bothering to mask his hurt. No. Why would she bring him paradise, just to rip it away? "You can't believe that... It wasn't wrong."

It was beautiful and at the very least he wanted to maintain it that way in his memory.

"Yes, I do." He opened his mouth in protest, but quickly stopped. A pale hand snatched up the hem of his shirt, and began to raise it, revealing the set of deeply tanned abs. Raven cocked her head at his shocked face. "It is... if I'm the only one naked."

The only thing that could truly make him cold was if she disappeared from him.

"Raven..." Immediately, he lifted his sweater overhead and Raven smoothed the static from his hair. "Just... don't do that again." And Damian affixed his mouth straight to her own.

No more layers. No more distance.

Just him and her.

And the chill was but a faint memory.

[pinkhairedlily]

i'll be with you (but it'll be a different kind)

pairing: yoonkook/yoonjin | rating: G | ao3 read here

a short study on moving on

Yoongi broke the vinyl like he would a plate, a quaint awareness of a disaster but the quick denial of letting it fall – on the floor, in pieces. He swept each shard, vacuumed, and threw them in the bin. He crushed his music sheets and notes, thought better of it, and lit them with a scented candle.

Well, for fuck’s sake, the candle was his gift too.

So Yoongi walked to the collection area at three thirty in the morning, against the gusts of cold November wind, carrying all the evidence of the killer and the remains of its victim. He stood in front of the stack with an impulse to do something. Say a prayer? Curse them? Curse himself and bring them back to his apartment?

Ah, he wasn’t that stupid.

He truly wasn’t.

His stupidity was drained when he decided to fall in love with his roommate and friend that couldn’t be his in this lifetime.

So he came back to his home rid of everything Kim Seokjin owned and touched. Yes, even the bedsheets he washed yesterday.

“The couch it is.” He plopped down to its uncomfortable mattress and was immediately lulled not by the comfort of sleep but by the escape it offered.

He lost track of time in the next days… or probably weeks because the next time he went out for a walk to the mart, he was greeted by imposing Christmas decorations and too tall synthetic trees that wouldn’t look good in apartments that only housed one.

He came back, still alone, but at least joined now with ingredients for proper homemade food. He won’t be lonely on Christmas, not with two bottles of wine, a variety of seafood (which Namjoon hated the most, and Yoongi would order in the largest serving just to spite him), and his good old comfy socks.

He switched on the television to watch Melancholia, a fitting holiday movie in his honest opinion, and turned it up to the highest volume to tune out the looping Christmas carols outside his window and across the hallway where other occupants have rooms over to tide away the lonesome.

It was two thirty and two disaster films later that he heard the ghost of his broken heart.

It was one of the songs he wrote for Jin, the notes not at all the same, but the melody line was correctly embodied. He started up from his drunken stupor on the floor and trudged towards his kitchen sink where he dabbled his face in water.

It wasn’t the alcohol. So it certainly must be the crazy in him… well, until he realized the notes were coming from next door. The walls were thin anyway.

He nonchalantly knocked on the door of his neighbor, not caring at all if it was the devil’s hour, not when the tenant itself did not care about public disturbance.

It opened a crack wide enough for Yoongi to sweep the whole place up in seconds. Tidy floor, unmade bed, three monitors on a desk, neon lights, a christmas tree unabashedly decorated with the most frivolous pieces beside the dining table, and a guitar on top of it.

“Did I wake you?” He was taller than Yoongi, buffer, and very decorated like his Christmas tree. Daith, lobe, and eyebrow piercings, sleeve tattoos on his right arm, and shoulder-length electric blue hair tied in half-ponytail. But what caught his attention the most was the doe eyes that seemed too innocent, but Yoongi was familiar with the pretension that hovered on the surface. This boy knew pain enough to effectively cover it.

“That was my song,” Yoongi said in his usual deadpan delivery. He couldn’t get any cheerier than this.

John Doe perked up (if it could be any more possible). “Ah so you’re the one!” Then his expression immediately shifted to wariness. “Oh wait, you might be offended. I should apologize – “

“Some notes were mismatched, yes. Couldn’t be helped when you learned it by ear.” Yoongi looked at him for confirmation, and John Doe nodded enthusiastically. “But it’s all right. You played the piece so beautifully for someone who did not know it was a love letter.”

The way John Doe changed his smile to a thin line Yoongi knew at once that this was a person who simultaneously wore their heart on a sleeve but chained it before it could truly fall.

“Is it safe to assume the letter’s non-reciprocation when you haven’t played those songs for a month?”

“What else could there be?”

The neighbor bit the inside of his cheeks before answering, “Maybe you just didn’t need love letters anymore?”

Yoongi sighed. “Just keep it down. It’s three in the morning.”

“But it’s Christmas?” John Doe’s eyes suddenly widened. “Oh my manners! Merry Christmas Sir!”

“I don’t believe in Santa Claus. Or Jesus. Or capitalist splurges.” Yoongi shoved his hands into his sweatpants. “I have marinara surplus. Do you want a plate?”

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

When New Year rolled again, Yoongi knocked on his neighbor’s door. He slept with headphones in full volume, god be damned his hearing, on newly bought bedsheets that did not smell of Jin and pillows that did not have a strand of his hair. He really couldn’t turn down John Doe’s question of whether he could still play the cursed song or maybe he was two-bottles-of-wine-disoriented enough to put up a rather good argument why he shouldn’t.

“So will you cover your ears when you go to sleep?” John Doe asked after his second slurping of seafood marinara.

“Why should I?” Meanwhile, Yoongi surfed Netflix for his disaster anxiety fix.

“Try Seeking a Friend for the End of the World.” John Doe finished his plate clean. He let out a burp with an apologetic smile to his temporary Christmas host. “Well, I was wondering if I could still play the song. It’s yours anyway so you have all the rights.”

Yoongi’s eyes glazed over the first few seconds of the film, slightly amused at the insurance agent selling an apocalyptic package. “When music is released to the public, it never becomes the composer’s alone. It is also owned by the listener…and whatever they deem the music to be.”

“I’m Jeon Jungkook.”

“I just let you eat my food.”

“I’ll be your friend for the end of the world.”

A beat. “Fine. Min Yoongi.”

But it was a week of listening to ragged notes and misplaced sharps, and his (still) perfectionist ass wanted to right it.

“It’s open,” Jungkook yelled from what Yoongi presumed was his computer chair.

He sauntered inside with measured caution and watched his neighbor tick away in codes on three different screens. Yoongi silently slid the music sheets on a small free space on Jungkook’s desk.

“Software developer?”

“Not really. I’m a solutions specialist, the yes-boy,” Jungkook replied with a smug grin. He hit enter and the lines start to jumble together as he swiveled to face Yoongi. “You re-wrote your notes. You must be a producer or something.”

Yoongi clucks. “Close. A film composer.”

“Do you go to Hollywood?”

“I’m not made for performative limelight. The shadows are bright enough.”

“Cool. I want to make a film someday.”

“You have a day job.”

“Can’t a man have two dreams?”

“Touche. One can never have too many.”

“What’s yours then, Yoongi?”

“Just one but it won’t be mine.”

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

March. Spring coming alive, and for the first time in months, Yoongi genuinely thought he was getting better and over him. Jeon Doe (maybe he’ll always call him this) was a light companion – not imposing, a bit fluttery, but steady in his essence. Perhaps it was the continuous wonder that ebb in his eyes or the utterly soft disregard of pain for something nonchalant.

On the eve of March 1st, he stroked again the keys of his piano, and Jungkook came into his unit and accompanied him with a guitar. It was an improvisation of chaotic notes in Yoongi’s head and by magic, Jungkook floated with that tornado. The contrast and the blend gave way to an unlikely partnership of melody and rhythm.

And on March 1st, Yoongi felt butterflies again when Jungkook joined him on the bench and giddily watched his fingers dance on white and black.

But on the second day of the month, the butterflies were replaced with quicksand.

Kim Seokjin called and wanted to meet. It was funny how in a moment of hesitancy, it was his heart who doubled and his feet that led. Their favorite bar, whiskey on the rocks for Jin, dry scotch for him, and an expanse of silence of between them.

“He’s too busy with production at the moment.” Jin downed his drink in one gulp. Yoongi didn’t even need to ask.

And I’m the only one who’s available. “At the moment is how many months?”

“For three months now.”

“You should break up.” An unsolicited advice Yoongi gave more than twice with not much success.

“If I was a music company, maybe he would do me,” Jin jested, holding the empty glass in his hand. “Should I buy one?”

“Buy his affections as well and monopolize them.” It was a banter Jin was used too and maybe by now, he should have known that Yoongi hid half-truths in them.

“They’re too intense for me alone. He’s always destined for the world.”

What could Yoongi do but surrender at the unspoken request of comfort. “There’s someone who treats you like you’re his whole world.”

“I wish I did too.”

Yoongi never had a sip of his scotch, but Jin’s languid kiss was enough to get drunk on. He lost the flutter and the lightness, and dove headfirst in heavy, steely waters. Yoongi missed the suffocating pressure and the sensation of bursting at the seams. If his heart would burst at this moment, it would shatter a hundred times more for the many touches and whispers to follow. He would gladly die in this misshapen illusion.

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

“Your door was always locked,” Jungkook greeted a month after, carrying a big tub of fermented kimchi. “My dad dropped by to give me spares.”

Two weeks before this, Jin left in a hurry to go to the airport, saying Namjoon had been in an accident, and two weeks after, Yoongi never heard back from him.

He accepted the side dish from his neighbor, but nothing went past Jungkook. Realization was plain in his face, but he chose not to comment on it.

“Yoongi.”

“Hmm.” It was danger meeting Jungkook’s eyes so Yoongi kept his downcast.

“I told you before.”

“What?”

“That I’ll be your friend for the end of the world.”

Yoongi didn’t respond, and Jungkook took the cue to leave.

He repeated that same line later that night when he heard Yoongi trash his place, his bare arm catching the brunt of a baseball bat just before it landed on the piano keys.

“Why would you go so far?” Yoongi sneered, anger seeping through his controlled demeanor.

“Why would you go so far?” Jungkook cradled his arm like he cradled his pain. Like it was nothing. “It’s the end of the world.”

“I need a friend.”

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

It was easier being with Jungkook – lighter, happier, with no care in the world. He was also honest in a straightforward, unassuming, and endearing way especially when those doe eyes of his were used to an advantage.

When he told Yoongi in the middle of Battle Royale, out of the blue, with no precedence whatsoever that “I don’t want to be just your friend”, it knocked the air out of the latter. And when Jungkook followed it with “You can use me, however you want”, Yoongi knew he had to get things sorted.

Lest he wants Jungkook trapped inside the vortex of unresolved feelings.

So Yoongi didn’t give him a tangible response. He just skidded closer to him on the couch and Jeon Doe took the cue to lay his head on the crook of his neck as another student was slashed to their death on the screen.

When credits rolled in, Yoongi dipped his head and found Jungkook already waiting with bated breath.

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

“Ah, you found me.”

Jin was back in his penthouse in Seoul, alone with no Namjoon in tow.

“Am I a week early?” Yoongi asked.

“I just got in today.” True enough, unopened suitcases littered his living room. Too many suitcases for a vacation. “I’m relocating back. Is there such a thing?”

Yoongi went to one luggage and punched in the password Jin used when Namjoon and him got together, it did not open, so he tried another combination. Ah, only his birthdate. Yoongi packed the first of his clothes to cabinets he was all too familiar with. He went on with this rudimentary task with Jin at the kitchen, cooking up something for the two of them.

In a parallel universe, Yoongi would have been happily contented with this.

Tidied up, folded, and free, the two went through a simple steak and pasta dinner.

“We broke up.” He twirled his fork endlessly. “It hit me when I saw him go to an award show. I could never keep up with him, Yoongi, not when I’m taking a backseat while his dreams sit in the front.”

“Don’t be silly.”

Jin stared at him like he was betrayed.

“Don’t be silly,” Yoongi repeated, drawling each word. “Namjoon and his goals sit in another sports car while you drive a rundown secondhand.”

That made Jin laugh. “You’re merciless.” And then he grimaced. “I never felt this neglected. It was never this way when I was with you.”

“We’ve never had anything, Jin. You didn’t let me have anything,” Yoongi finished clean his pasta. He folded his napkin like a good guest and waited for Jin’s retort.

But he just sighed, defeated. “I destroyed what good we had. I’m afraid I also lost the friendship.”

“You know I can’t go back again to you.” Yoongi didn’t know if he threw a question or a statement.

“I saw it the instant you came through that door.” Jin put down his fork and trained his eyes on his best friend. “Happiness looks good on you.”

“You would have known already if you had just looked at me.”

Jin gave him a sad smile. “And it would have been the best sight had I tried harder.” He picked up again his fork, his lips pursed, his eyes brimming with tears. It was a foreign scene, Jin coming undone in front of him, not because of Namjoon, because of him. “So who is this guy?”

“I call him Jeon Doe.”

Jin kept brushing the side of his eyes while he twirled strands of noodles in his fork. When he opened his mouth to eat, tears brushed down his cheeks, breaking in rivulets as he chewed. “That’s a stupid name.”

Yoongi noticed the upwelling – the comeuppance of what was lost trying to mask itself as the crescent emotions. He knew it when Jungkook kissed him back that night, that he could never go back to this uncertainty. “And stupidly in love with me too.”

Jin continued to chew with salty tears. “I’m sorry, Yoongi.”

His hands clenched at the name that left his lips. “I got tired of being your placeholder. You couldn’t just leave and expect me to stay in one place. I also crack every time you touch me, and I shatter every time you go. I broke, Jin. I got torn apart, and I wasn’t sure whether I could still handle your overspilling love for someone else when I couldn’t even hold any for me.” Yoongi’s fingers stretched to touch the dam that escaped his friend’s eyes. “You must understand.”

“I’m sorry, Yoongi,” Jin repeated. “And I understand it. I get it now. I see it. It’s just overwhelming – this mountain of regrets and what-ifs and utter disregard I made for my own happiness.”

“I got in the crossfire.”

“A victim willing.”

“But not anymore.”

Jin shook his head. “No, not anymore.” He intertwined his fingers with Yoongi. “I hope it works out for you and Jeon Doe.”

Not a minute longer, Yoongi pulled away from Jin’s touch. “I hope you heal.”

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

Jin saw them on the same piano bench, playing a duet in the middle of a wedding reception, hands flying about, touches fleeting but enthralling, releasing captivating, fluttery sounds – almost akin to freedom.

He was seeing now in full high-definition panorama the gravity of his consequences. He let go of his two great loves, one he loved with no fail, the other he took to fail.

And so he welcomed the splendor of pain. He had two great loves, and regardless of how they ended, they deserved a thorough journey of grief. He could only hope that at the end of it was what he saw in Yoongi.

Freedom.

[duhragonball]

[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (133/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation.   This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

[30 October, 233 Before Age. Interstellar Space.]

After much soul searching, Wampaaan'riix decided to travel into Federation space. His homeworld of Yetitan wasn't a member of that interstellar alliance, but he felt an obligation to its founder, the Super Saiyan Luffa. Before she had become the Federatrix, even before she became the Legendary Super Saiyan, she had made the very un-Saiyan decision to spare his life, a debt he could never truly repay.

From what he could tell by the news coverage, the Federation had become a target of a large band of Saiyans who objected to Luffa for her "un-Saiyan" characteristics. She had been joined by a second large gathering of Saiyans, who only seemed to tolerate her as long as she helped them fight the first group. And so, the Federation had become the battleground for a Saiyan civil war. This was what urged him to journey into the war zone. It galled him to think that such a noble and honorable Saiyan should be so thoroughly despised by her own kind. Though a proud warrior, he doubted that he could be of much help against such powerful enemies, but Luffa had shown him that there was honor to be found in other things besides mere combat.

The others had contacted him on Yetitan, mostly to fill him in on what was going on, or to ask for his advice on difficult matters. He was never sure what to tell them. It seemed wrong for him to offer suggestions while so far removed from the situation. Sometimes it seemed that it didn't matter, as if they only wanted him to listen, but it still bothered him. And so, after discussing it with his family, and making the ritual preparations for a potential battle, he loaded up his small cruiser and left Yetitan, bound for the Federation border.

The hardest part was convincing his son Dewbaaac'nogg not to join him. The boy had become a fine young man, in spite of his irreverent tone and his hero worship of Luffa, but he had his own warrior's path to follow, and Wampaaan'riix didn't want to distract from that. Perhaps if there was a chance of them getting to fight alongside Luffa against a horde of enemy troops, then he might have reconsidered, but she was so far beyond Yetitan power that the two of them would only get in her way.

The second hardest part of his journey lay at the end. Wampaaan'riix wasn't sure how much trouble it would be to actually enter Federation space once he arrived. His working plan was to try to contact the Yetitan Embassy on Woshad, or to simply hail Luffa's star-yacht and rely on her authority to clear the way. All he knew for sure was that he didn't dare to cross over without permission. Their fleet would assume he was a Saiyan invasion craft and blast his ship to atoms at first sight.

And yet, when he did arrive at the border, he found the situation surprisingly peaceful. A border patrol spotted him on their long-range sensors and contacted him. After a brief-but-thorough verification of his credentials, they escorted him to Woshad. The planet's defenses were on high alert, but he found nothing to indicate a war. His attempts to contact Luffa's ship failed, and just when he began to wonder what had happened to her, he received a response, an encoded transmission from Dr. Topsas through the Federation subspace network.

"I've decided to join you," Wampaaan'riix told him. "Give me your coordinates, and I can rendezvous with Luffa."

"I rather doubt that," Topsas replied. "You may join the rest of us on Planet Despye if you like, but Luffa and her ship have left Federation space."

Beneath the shaggy white hair that covered his face, Wampaaan'riix's jaw dropped.

*******

[31 October, 233 Before Age. Despye.]

Miqann was Despye's sixteenth-largest city. It boasted one of the few restaurants on the planet that specialized in Bigreenese cuisine and al fresco dining. There, Wampaaan'riix found Dr. Topsas, who brought him up to date on the war.

"I should have come here sooner," he grumbled. "Not that she needed much help with her counterstrike, from the sound of things. But at least I could have wished her well."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Wampaaan'riix," said Dotz, who sat with them. She was a humanoid fortuneteller dressed in flowing purple clothes and beaded ornaments. "If I had forseen your arrival, I could have told Luffa about it before she left, and she might have waited for you."

"Dotz, we just met an hour ago and you've already apologized to me four times," Wampaaan'riix said. "Let me assure you, I'm not so easily offended."

"Sorry," Dotz said.

"Perhaps Luffa did expect you to come here," Dr. Topsas suggested, "and she hastened her departure accordingly. You know how she despises long goodbyes."

"Maybe so," Wampaaan'riix said. "I take it she just dumped the three of you on this planet and sped off without a word."

"Just the two of us," Dotz said. "Zatte went with her."

"What?!" Wampaaan'riix said, nearly shouting.

"Sorry," Dotz said again.

"Come now, Wampaaan'riix, you cannot be overly surprised to hear this," Topsas said as he sipped from a mug of hot cider. "You know how devoted Ms. Zatte is to Luffa's cause. She's more like a disciple than a wife to her sometimes."

"She's still her wife, doctor," Wampaaan'riix muttered. "I left both of mine on Yetitan, and I wasn't even planning to fight anyone. With all respect to Zatte's combat prowess, she'd be completely outclassed in a battle like the one you described."

"I am quite sure that point was brought up," Topsas said. "But even if Luffa didn't want her to come along, I suspect Zatte would have sneaked back on board the ship anyway. In marriage, one must bow to the inevitable, but I suppose you know this twice as well as the rest of us."

Wampaaan'riix gave a knowing grunt in reply.

"Um, well I've never been married," Dotz said, "but... well, I think it's romantic. They make a nice couple. Even when they're arguing you can tell how much they care about each other." She poked at her half-eaten dessert for a moment before adding: "I'm sort of, you know... well, it's nice that they've got the ship to themselves. I always felt like I was in the way all the time."

"In the way?" Dr. Topsas's pedipalps began to move in a certain way, though no humanoid was likely to interpret his body language with much success. "My dear, nothing could be further from the truth. They've always spoken very highly of you."

"Well, yes," Dotz said, "but... I'm sure they were just being polite."

"'Polite', my foot," Wampaaan'riix said. "Zatte told me about how much you helped out with ship's operations. She said you even piloted the thing a few times."

"Only because there wasn't anyone else who could do it," Dotz said. "They were busy sometimes, and--"

"And you were helping," Topsas insisted. "To say nothing of your psychic predictions. That alone has made an enormous impact on this war."

"And Topsas told me you helped him sort the drugs in the yacht's sickbay," Wampaaan'riix added.

"Well, it wasn't that difficult," she said. "Anyone could have done that, he just needed an extra set of, um, hands."

Topsas was cradling his beverage in two hands, and he now raised three more over the edge of the table. "On the contrary, Ms. Dotz, I've worked with a number of interns who have trouble keeping up with me. You ought to go into nursing, assuming the fortunetelling business should out of favor."

"Well... but... thank you," Dotz finally said, after struggling to find a response. "I'm sorry, I don't take compliments very well. I just... I take my abilities as a given sometimes. Luffa kept praising me for predicting when the Jindan cult would strike next, but she was the one who had to go there and fight those battles. To me, it might as well have already happened."

"Zatte also told me you were trying to enhance your ability," Wampaaan'riix said. "I didn't know seeing the future was something that could be improved."

She shifted in her chair somewhat awkwardly. "I, um, I didn't know either. But I've had a blind spot when it comes to Luffa's personal future. Something always blocks me when I try to see what happens to her specifically. That's why I don't know what will happen at Nagaoka. There won't be any more Saiyan attacks here for a long time to come, but I don't know if that's because she'll win or lose. I've been trying to fix that, and I'm made some headway, but not when it comes to her future."

"Then it's no mystery why Luffa respects you so much," Wampaaan'riix said as he took a sip from his stein. "She's the most driven person I know, and she finds inspiration from the drive of others. It's like she feeds off of it."

"That's nice of you to say," Dotz said. "But really, I was just trying my best to fill the gap left behind by Keda."

"Keda?" Topsas asked.

"I... I never knew her, but it didn't take long for me to see how important she was to all of you," Dotz said. "I'm sure having me around instead of her was painful, and... well, I wanted to do what I could to make that easier. I know I could never replace her, though. She was like a little sister to them."

"Yes, she was," Topsas said wistfully. "It's been... Ninth Eye, it's been almost three years now since Keda died, hasn't it? I still find it hard to believe that she's really gone."

"What happened to her?" Dotz asked.

"An enemy tried to destroy the people of Planet Extraliga," Wampaaan'riix explained, somewhat reluctantly. "While Luffa fought him, Zatte attempted to disarm his weapon, and when she was injured, Keda sacrificed herself to save her, and everyone else on Extraliga."

"Oh," was all Dotz could think of to say.

"It was very difficult for them," Topsas said. "And for their marriage. I recommended a counselor for them, though I don't know if they actually made much use of him. I think Luffa's crusade against King Rehval and his cult has helped. Or perhaps it merely provides a convenient distraction."

"I should have been there," Wamaaan'riix said. "On Extraliga. Even if I couldn't have helped... better to have died in Keda's place..."

He leaned back as well as he could in his chair. The chairs at this establishment were barely designed to accommodate his nine-foot-tall frame, and he didn't want to test their limits, in spite of his mood. "I envy you, Dotz. And you too, Doctor. At least you've been able to help Luffa in these past few months. All I have is my strength, which might as well be nothing against the kinds of battles she's been in."

"One does what one can," Topsas said. "Luffa has always spoken of you with great esteem."

"I thought it was so simple," he said as he stared off to his left. "I wanted to go out in the universe and test my abilities in real combat. Then I ended up meeting the strongest warrior in all of creation. After that, nothing seemed quite so cut and dried anymore. No matter how strong I get, no matter what I may achieve, there will always be some stone left unturned. Some path not taken. I can fight alongside Luffa, like Zatte's doing now, or I could die a hero like Keda, or I can stay at home and see to my family, but never all at once. No matter what I choose, I'll have to leave something undone. It'll never feel like enough."

"Would you really want it to be enough?" Topsas asked. "I've seen how frustrated Luffa has become, whenever she thought that she had reached the limit of her abilities, or that there were no new challenges to overcome. Imagine if you could do it all, Wampaaan'riix, or that you had already done it all, many years ago. What would there be left for you?"

"You're right," Wampaaan'riix said. "I've always known that was the way of things, but I feel as though I've only begun to understand that. When I was younger, I didn't consider that there would be some failures that couldn't be undone, or opportunities that could never be chosen once they were past. Or debts that could never be repaid."

"I know what you mean," Dotz said. She seemed relieved to have some common ground with the hairy giant. "Luffa saved my life too. Well, maybe not my life, but I'd still be in a coma if not for her. Wait, she did save your life, didn't she? I can't remember if you already told me that or not."

"We were opponents in a deathmatch tournament," Wampaaan'riix explained. "Luffa wouldn't transform for another several months, but she was already far more powerful than any Saiyan I had encountered before. She basically toyed with me, just to test her abilities. Then she read my mind, just to see if she could."

"You mean she didn't always have that ability?" Dotz asked.

"No," Wampaaan'riix said. "Later she admitted to me that she had no idea what she was doing. She had advanced so rapidly in such a short time. She would get badly hurt in each round of the tournament, and Dr. Topsas here would heal her wounds so she could fight again. When a Saiyan recovers from near-fatal injuries, their battle power increases dramatically. So by the time she had advanced to our match, she had gone through several cycles of this. Her senses were so keen that she could tell what I was going to do just from sensing the way I used my ki. So she thought if she got close enough to touch me that she could see through my entire fighting style. And it worked, except she also saw my memories and emotions. She experienced for herself my fear of dying, and the regrets I had in what I thought were my final moments, and so she decided to let me live. Then the tournament organizers tried to have us both executed."

"Mercy was against the rules, you see," Dr. Topsas interjected.

"And so Luffa had to fight them and shut down their operation," Wampaaan'riix explained. "She was offended at the idea that they would try to stop her from sparing me."

"Huh," Dotz said. She rubbed her thumb under her lower lip as she digested this story. "Well then... when you put it that way, I guess you sort of saved me too."

"Eh?" Wampaaan'riix asked.

"Well, um, it's just that, Luffa used her telepathic powers to bring me out of the coma," Dotz said. "But she only knew she had that power because of her fight with you. So if it hadn't been for you, she probably wouldn't have even tried to help me."

"I... I suppose you're right," Wampaaan'riix said.

"And Luffa wouldn't have gotten to that level at all if it hadn't been for you, Doctor," Dotz added. "You've helped me a lot, but that's another one I owe you."

"Think nothing of it," Topsas said. "I was merely plying my trade that day. Just another shift of putting people back together again."

"It's more than just that," Wampaaan'riix said. "Luffa really admires you, Doctor."

"That's right," Dotz said. "I guess you've really been working hard to heal her quickly for all of these battles. I think lately, she's only been worried about getting hurt because of how much extra work it'll take you to fix her up."

Topsas took another sip of his cider and made a motion that might have been an arachnoid version of a shrug. "That little mammal is my nemesis, you know. Always daring me to find new ways to mend her wounds. I could write a book on Saiyan medicine after all these years. Or I could, except I'll likely be too busy operating on her when she returns from Nagaoka."

"You're like a father to her, Doctor," Wampaaan'riix said. "You know that, don't you?"

"I gave her away at her wedding," Topsas said. "At her request. The thought had occurred to me."

"Hmph. Just making sure."

"Well you may take this as confirmation," Topsas said. One of his eight hands reached into the pocket of the sweater that covered most of his cephalothorax, and he withdrew a datapad. "It seems Luffa has decided to play this surrogate child role to the hilt, and meddle in my affairs. She's arranged a transport to take me back to my home planet."

"Your son already tried that, didn't he?" Wampaaan'riix asked.

"Yes, and I missed the transport because I chose to focus on Luffa's care," Topsas said. "She must have found out about this, and decided to take matters into her own hands. Or her own feet, I should say. I believe her exact words were: 'If you're not on that ship when it leaves, Doc, I'll kick you all the way there myself.'"

"Are things bad with your family, Doctor?" Dotz asked.

"Not at all," he said, somewhat surprised by the question. "I would have made my way home eventually. I fully intended to go back very soon, after things had settled down here. But no one has the patience for a fellow to make his own itinerary. At least this will improve Luffa's reputation among my brood."

"Well, I'm sorry to see you go," Dotz said. "But I think it's for the best. You've done so much for the Federation and these people just by looking after Luffa. When do you leave?"

"Not for another three weeks," Topsas said. "That should give time for Luffa to return, or at least send word. I for one, do not mind long farewells."

"Heh. You remember how she left us on Bigreen?" Wampaaan'riix asked.

"Naturally," Topsas said. "That was why I chose this restaurant to meet. Very much like the one we used to eat at, isn't it?"

"What happened on Bigreen?" Dotz asked.

"Luffa saved the planet from an evil wizard," Wampaaan'riix said. "As it turned out, it was the same evil wizard who menaced the planet a thousand years before. 'Hamon,' I think his name was."

"Hamey," Topsas corrected.

"Right, that was it," Wampaaan'riix said. "He was no match for Luffa, except she refused to fight him in her transformed state. She was still getting used to it, and thought the form was unnatural. Her ancestor, Chanisp, defeated Hamey the first time, and she wanted to win the same way. Then she found out that Chanisp had been Super Saiyan like her. Once she came to terms with that, she made short work of Hamey."

"Then that Janso fellow approached her about a mercenary job on Gwarthos, and she couldn't wait to get back on the move," Topsas said. "A few awkward 'thank you's', and she was off. But it was comforting to see her so enthusiastic again."

"Yes," Wampaaan'riix said. "I was tempted to join her, but I got more than my fair share of action from that battle with Hamey. I knew if I tagged along, I'd be reduced to a spectator."

"I think she would have enjoyed having you along, for what it's worth," Topsas said.

"Maybe so, but at least Keda had something to do, even if it was just managing her finances," Wampaaan'riix said. "No, I'm a warrior, and Luffa has that market cornered. I'll pay my respects to her when the battle on Nagaoka is over, but then I'll head back to Yetitan, where I belong."

"I just hope all of you stay in touch," Dotz said. She looked down at her plate and went back to poking at her dessert. "It's sad to see you all go your separate ways, even if it's to be with your families. You're so much like a family with each other."

"Surely you mean to say 'we', Ms. Dotz," Topsas said. "You're as much an accessory to this madness as the rest of us."

"That's right," Wampaaan'riix said. "You don't get off that easily."

She looked up at them both, and started tugging at the edges of her shawl with her free hand. "Me? Oh, no," she said. "I could never be... the rest of you, and Keda... I mean, I'd like to think of you all as friends--if that's okay--but--"

"Ms. Dotz, you really must cease this one-sided rivalry you have with Keda. She was a dear friend and will be sorely missed, but that is hardly an obstacle for you to overcome. I have 47 sons and daughters, for example. Keda was very much like a sister to Luffa and Zatte, and you have been as well."

"Really?" Dotz asked. "I mean, I'm so much older than they are, and..."

"Then you're an older sister," Wampaaan'riix said. "Hells, Zatte even said as much to me during a subspace call. They were both only children growing up, and their mothers died when they were young. They almost didn't know what to make of you at first, but it didn't take them long to enjoy having you around."

"I apologize," Topsas said. "Perhaps I should have mentioned this to you some time ago. I just assumed that you knew how they appreciated you. Listening to the three of you chatter like Camelian pelicans, it seemed like you all understood."

Dotz was overwhelmed. "I just... I'm sorry, maybe I did know, but I didn't want to believe it. Didn't, ah, want to get my hopes up, in case I had the wrong idea."

"And Luffa calls me modest," Topsas groaned. "Nonetheless, I'm sure they'll be pleased to have you back on board when they return, if that's what you want. And Wampaaan'riix and I may drop in on you from time to time."

"I'm not so sure," Dotz said. "I mean, you've all been so kind to me, and I'll never forget it, but, um... I don't know that I'm meant to stay in this situation. I feel like I need to move along, like the two of you are about to do. The only trouble is, um, I'm not sure what I need to do with myself next."

"You had a life before Luffa rescued you," Wampaaan'riix said. "It's only sensible that you return to that."

"No," Dotz said. "Fortunetelling was a job, not a life. The only family I had was my mother, and she passed on a long time ago. There's nothing waiting for me back home, not really. Besides, I'm not sure I'd want to go back to telling fortunes, not after all of this. It seems too small somehow."

"Then perhaps this is an opportunity," Topsas suggested. "You stand at a crossroads in life. And before you say it, let me promise you that one is never too old to travel a new path. Trust one who knows from experience."

She raised her fork and opened her mouth, as if to argue, then stopped, and smiled instead. "Okay, maybe you're right. I've been thinking a lot about what Luffa said at the Federation Council meeting we went to. She killed that general for saying all those terrible things, but... well, I'm not sure that was the best way to deal with that. I think Luffa wants to help out people who've been mistreated or marginalized, but if she uses too much violence to do it, it could spark a backlash. And her opponents can't fight back against her, so they'll take it out on the people she wants to help. If, uh, that makes any sense."

"It makes sense to me," Topsas said. "Your abilities are nonviolent, so perhaps you can find a different way."

"Well, the problem is, I'm not sure if I can or not," Dotz said. "My clairvoyance has improved a lot since I met Luffa, but I still feel like there's a lot of work I need to do. I'm not sure if it's right for me to just try to dive into anything without a plan."

"Then perhaps it would be best if you spent some more time with Luffa and Zatte before striking out on your own," Topsas said. "I'm sure we'll all meet again someday, and by then you'll tell us all about how you managed to untangle this particular knot."

"No," Dotz said after a long pause. "I'm sorry, but I don't think so. I'd need to get out my cards, do a proper reading to make sure, but... this place, the two of you. The vibrations feel very... solitary to me. I don't think the three of us will ever see each other again."

An awkward silence followed this declaration. Suddenly, they each became very aware of their surroundings. The rustle of the breeze through the bushes surrounding the tables. The clinks and scrapes of dishes and flatware from the other diners. A Bigreenese waiter chatting with a customer several yards away.

"I'm sorry," Dotz said. "I, uh, have a way of sucking the life out of a party sometimes. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything."

"Why don't you come with me?"

Dotz looked over to Wampaaan'riix, who was now extending his massive hand towards her. "Excuse me?" Dotz said.

"I'm inviting you to come back to Yetitan with me," he said. "It's a very cold planet. Most humanoids find it too cold for their liking, but our language has a hundred words for 'cozy', so I think we could make your stay comfortable. And my son would be thrilled to meet another one of the Super Saiyan's comrades."

Once more, Dotz was too amazed for words. "You... I... You mean, live on your home planet. To stay?"

"Not forever, but for a while at least," he said. The fur on his lower face ruffled in such a way to indicate a smile underneath. "My culture has a very honored tradition of self-development, Dotz. I know it mainly from a martial arts perspective, but you may find our ways useful for honing your mind, or your spirit, or whatever else it is you use to see into the future."

"I... well, why not?" she said. With a newfound confidence, she placed her hand in his. "At least it gives me a place to start."

"You wouldn't be trying to cheat fate, would you, Wampaaan'riix?" Topsas asked. "If Dotz is correct, then perhaps it's a ill-advised for us to try to stick together any longer than necessary."

"Not at all, doctor," he said. "I owe a debt to Luffa that I can never repay. So maybe the answer isn't to save her life, but to help someone else instead. And if that lets Dotz help others in turn, then so much the better. If you and I may never see each other again, then so be it, but I only just met Dotz. If this is the only chance for me to get to know her, then I'd like to make the most of it. Besides..."

"Yes?" Topsas asked.

Wampaaan'riix chuckled. "I, for one, enjoy long goodbyes."

NEXT: Nagaoka.

[virgilsinferno]

✎ sunset season ༉‧ ♡*.✧

this is my gift for @officialladynoirette !! happy new year 

↷ ·˚ ༘ !! 

special thanks to @secret-pv-presents !!

ships: bridgette & felix || allegra & claude 

word count: 3874

read on ao3

Felix caught himself painting the sky again. He somehow never gets tired of it, filling the sky with beautiful warm colors just as the sun begins to set. It was something he always looked forward to. The scenery is just so calming. The blending of colors, the aesthetically pleasing view, the way his canvas feels as soft as the clouds when his paintbrush comes into contact with it. Everything about the experience is simply fascinating and magical.

It’s also something he does to pass the time. Since he grew up without a mother and his father is only home at night time because of work, he’s often alone. Sure he’s got friends, but they’re usually busy as well. He hangs out a lot with his best friend Claude. Claude isn’t as busy as everyone else, and probably never sleeps. The two are nearly inseparable. Their other friend, Allegra—who also happened to be Claude’s girlfriend, had to move away to study at a different university that would give her better opportunities.

Felix finished his painting and placed his supplies back in the box, making sure to bring his canvas with him. It was still wet with paint, so he made sure to hold it carefully. He left his easel in the field and walked back home. He never brings it back inside knowing that he’ll be back to paint there anyways. The field was part of their land since his family owned several plots of land around the area—especially near their custom-built mansion.

It didn’t take long for him to get back home. Surprisingly, his father got home before him. Which is strange considering the fact that his father normally gets home at around 18:00, and it was only 16:21.

“Father, I didn’t expect you to be home so soon.”

His father hummed in acknowledgment, busying himself with the paperwork that needed to be finished by tomorrow morning. “Yes, well I had to be home to see my son leave, don’t I?”

“I won’t be gone for too long, just a couple of business meetings to attend to.” He was young, some might say that he’s too young to be making big decisions for their company, but his father trusted him.

“Make sure you don’t lose Claude in the big city, alright? Heaven knows that boy is terrible with directions.” He patted his son on the shoulder, who shared a laugh with him.

If he were to be honest, it was going to be difficult to adapt to the new surroundings. He lived in Italy for almost 6 years and enjoyed the provincial life that Paris could not give him. Although he had a choice to live in a less populated area in France, he preferred to leave the country in hopes of starting anew.

Now, he and his friend would be taking a flight to New York City. He despised the place knowing how loud and chaotic the city could get. He had a feeling Claude would fit just fine with his lively personality.

Speaking of, the doorbell rang and Felix opened the door knowing exactly who was outside. There stood Claude who had with him two suitcases and a duffel bag on top of each suitcase. Felix was just about to comment on how Claude must’ve packed for a 2-week trip, but his father ordered them both to start putting their things in the car.

As Felix struggled with bringing his things down the stairs, Claude chatted with Felix’s father. He told him about how difficult it is to get Felix to talk to other people and how awkward he gets during any sort of social interaction. They spent about 20 minutes laughing and sharing stories, which was just enough time for Felix to sort things out.

After taking one last look at his things, he returned to the living room where Claude and his father are. He nudged his friend in the ribs and gestured to the car. Getting the message, Claude took his things with him and put them in the car.

Just like every scene wherein a person leaves, they couldn’t leave without at least one emotional moment. “I won’t let you down,” Felix said as he turned to his father.

“I know you won’t,” He smiled and pulled the two boys into a quick hug. “Claude, you take care of my son. You can be his babysitter or something.”

“Of course, Mr. Agreste, sir!” Claude gave a salute and pretended to have a serious look on his face. He couldn’t hold the seriousness and had to laugh for a few seconds as Felix looked at his father with a clearly offended expression on his face.

Once they were all done with their goodbyes, it was time for Felix and Claude to leave. Felix’s father waved goodbye to the two boys until they were out of sight, wiping a few tears here and there.

Meanwhile, Felix won’t stop asking if they had left something back at home. His friend constantly tried to reassure him that they didn’t leave anything behind but stopped trying once he realized that Felix will not shut up at all.

It took nearly an hour for them to get to the airport. Once their flight was called, they brought their bags with them and went through the gate. They waited a while for the plane, keeping themselves occupied by using their phones. When people started to board the plane, they gathered their things and boarded the plane as well. Upon entering the plane, they were greeted by the flight attendants and looked for their seats in business class. It was going to be a long flight so Felix decided to sleep for a bit whilst Claude watched some horror movies. The classics, of course.

Their 12-hour flight consisted of sleeping, eating, sleeping again, maybe watch a movie but fall asleep halfway through, then eat again. Overall, it was boring, especially with the limited amount of things one could do whilst inside a plane. The worst part was that their flight was taking forever.

A couple more hours later, Claude was awoken by his friend, who was woken up by the sound of the pilot speaking. They then exited the plane and hailed a cab, but had a bit of an issue with their luggage since their things would hardly fit in the tiny cab. Apparently, no problem was too difficult for Felix to solve. He laid down the suitcases horizontally inside the cab below the seat and filled the backseat with the rest of the bags. The other bags that didn’t fit were placed inside the trunk. Claude sat in the back with the bags and Felix sat in the front to give directions to the driver. Soon enough, they were on their way to their new place.

No house was too expensive for them either. Felix’s father got them a huge house that was slightly further away from the busier streets. It was smaller than Felix’s home back in Italy, but it was certainly too big for just the two of them.

Claude dashed right in, letting his luggage follow behind him as he excitedly ran around and admired their new living space. Felix went straight to the bedrooms. He wasn’t exactly sure which floor had the bedrooms so he had to figure that out. He first checked the third floor, since it seemed to be a reasonable floor to have the bedrooms. And he was right. He claimed the biggest one and began to unpack. He made sure it felt as close to home as possible, even moving some of the furniture to imitate his room as best he can.

The unpacking didn’t take long since he packed his things according to category. Right after all that was done, he decided to take a well-deserved nap. Meanwhile, Claude had decided to pick a room before continuing his adventures. He chose the second largest bedroom and messily placed his belongings into wherever the hell he wanted to put them in. He did sort them into different categories but was too lazy to actually make sure his things were placed properly. It didn’t matter, he wanted to go look at the different rooms more than he wanted to make his room look pretty. After fucking up his room, he went back down to the kitchen to make himself some tea. He sped it up by taking advantage of technology and continued with the “tour”. Basically, he pretended to be the tour guide and be the tourist as well.

Eventually, the tour came to an end and Claude sat down on the recliner couch with his nearly empty mug of green tea. Everything was too silent, which meant Felix had probably fallen asleep. He didn’t know what else to do, after having explored every nook and cranny in their new house. Just then, to his surprise, the doorbell rang. He didn’t know whether to answer it or not since they did not know anyone around the area yet, but he had nothing else better to do so he decided to go see who’s visiting. He opened the door and, lo and behold, there stood his girlfriend, Allegra.

“Hiya Claude, I brought cookies!”

“Holy shit, Allegra, I’ve missed you!” Claude hugged her and spun her in the air. “Hold on, how did you know where we would be staying at?”

“I have a tracking device on you.” She said in a sarcastic tone. Claude’s eyes widened in horror. Allegra let out a laugh, pinching her boyfriend’s cheeks. “Felix texted me the address! I wanted to surprise you.”

Claude let Allegra in and the two sat down on the couch. He let Allegra tell him stories about what has been going on in her life so far, and Claude told Allegra all about the shit that had happened back at home. Their loud voices must’ve disturbed Felix ‘cause they heard a loud thump coming from upstairs.

They spotted Felix walking down the stairs with his hair all messy and looking exceptionally tired.

“Woah there, Felix. You want a cookie?” Allegra held out an open container filled with sweet chocolate chip cookies, her specialty.

“That would be nice.”

As they were chatting about things, Allegra’s phone rang and both Felix and Claude were curious to see who was calling. She gave them an apologetic look as she answered the call.

“Remember the newly opened theme park I was talking about?” Bridgette said through the phone, having it on speaker since she was fixing her shoelaces.

“Yeah, what about it?” Allegra asked, having a feeling that she knew where this conversation was headed. She was not a fan of those horror mazes Bridgette was so fond of.

“Well, Allan and I bought some tickets! I’ve actually planned this with Claude beforehand since you mentioned that he and his friend would be staying in the city for a while.”

She turned to Claude with a confused look. She wasn’t aware that they knew each other but knowing Claude and Bridgette, they seem like they would be great friends.

“You know Bridgette?” She asked Claude, who shrugged in response.

“She contacted me because she wanted to know—and her words, not mine—who her bff’s boyfriend is and if said boyfriend is treating her well.” Allegra seemed embarrassed and was about to scold Bridgette, but Claude quickly reassured her. “All is good, don’t worry.”

“Let me just settle a few things and we’ll be there.” She replied, giving Felix a knowing look. He won’t be able to make excuses to stay home this time.

“Great! Meet us at Cafe Noir, we need a ride.”

Allegra ended the call, and Bridgette went to go grab some snacks while waiting. Allan knew the owner of the cafe and started a conversation with her, leaving Bridgette to keep herself from getting bored. She pondered on getting a drink, but she figured that milkshakes can wait. She’s gotta give a good first impression to Claude and his friend. Bridgette ordered a blueberry cheesecake and scrolled through Twitter. 20 minutes isn’t that long, so she just sat there eating her blueberry cheesecake, looking at the door once in a while.

Apparently, they got caught in traffic so it turned into a 30-minute wait, but Bridgette and Allan didn’t mind. Allegra arrived with a guy who looked around their age, holding a tumbler that most likely contained tea. Allegra excitedly ran up to Bridgette, and she knew exactly just what Allegra wanted. She took a forkful of her blueberry cheesecake and fed it to Allegra, who happily thanked her in return.

Bridgette then realized that she hasn’t even properly introduced herself to Allegra’s boyfriend. Stepping forward, she held out her hand for Claude to shake. “It’s good to finally meet you in person. I’m Bridgette.”

Claude tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. “You’re a lot shorter than I expected… you don’t look threatening at all.” Bridgette narrowed her eyes and squeezed Claude’s hand, causing him to yelp in pain.

She smirked. “I’m not known as the tiny terror for nothing.”

“This is Felix, he’s not great at socializing,” Claude said to Bridgette, gesturing to his friend. Felix glared at him.

Surprisingly, Felix spoke. “We’ve met. We went to the same school back when I was still living in Paris.”

Bridgette was about to object but realized that this was the Felix she obsessed over back then. “I hardly even recognized you! Still as antisocial as ever, I see.”

“And you’re still as annoying as ever.” Felix rolled his eyes.

Bridgette smiled and put her hand on Felix’s shoulder. “I like my men like I like my coffee—cold.”

“Ew, she drinks iced coffee?” Claude whispered to Allan.

“Disappointing, I know. She drinks iced coffee every morning.” Allan whispered back to Claude.

The tiny terror, otherwise known as Bridgette, glared at the two with the fiery anger of a thousand suns.

Allegra decided to stop hell from rising by ending this segment of their conversation. “Anyways, Felix and Claude this is Allan, Allan this is Felix and Claude. He’s better than Bridgette. Now, let’s get in the car!”

Claude and Bridgette raced each other to the car, yelling at each other. Both wanted to sit at the front, but only one would reign supreme. Bridgette ended up getting there first. Claude sadly admitted defeat. Huffing, he sat in the back with Felix and Allan. They were using Allegra’s car so she was the designated driver.

The car ride consisted of Claude, Allegra, and Bridgette belting out the lyrics to the songs in Frozen 2, whilst Felix and Allan had a decent conversation. Felix found that Allan was better company than the others. Allan was chill and specialized in music and music was something Felix was experienced in. Though they preferred different genres, they still had a meaningful conversation.

Due to traffic, it almost took them an hour to get there. Since both Claude and Felix still haven’t adjusted to the time of day, they felt that it was best to avoid certain rides like rollercoasters and such.

“Looks like it’s your first time at a theme park.” Bridgette joked to Felix, nudging him with her elbow.

“It is, actually.”

Bridgette looked at him in disbelief. She could not believe that he had never experienced going to a theme park. She then made it her duty to show Felix all the cool stuff there, starting with the horror mazes.

“I’m going to the spooky area! Who’s coming with?”

“We’re going to ride rollercoasters!” Allegra said as she pointed to the left.

“I’ll be playing games,” Allan said. He wasn’t fond of rides, but would probably join them later on.

“Alrighty then, Felix, you’re coming with me!” Bridgette dragged Felix to their first horror maze, which was themed after haunted houses. The line wasn’t too long, and six people entered at a time.

Immune to most of the scares, Bridgette started a conversation. “So, how’ve you been?”

Felix scoffed. Out of all the places they would have a proper conversation at, it was at a haunted house maze. “Good, I suppose. Better without your annoying self.”

“Aren’t you a charmer,” Bridgette said sarcastically. “Still a renaissance man then?”

“I’d-” he jumped backward a little due to being frightened by a passing actor. He composed himself before continuing where he left of. “I’d hope so.”

This maze was a quick one and they were out after 3 minutes. Bridgette wasn’t done yet, though. She dragged Felix onto the next one, and it had a significantly longer line than the last one.

“You paint, right?” Bridgette asked as they waited in line.

“How do you know?”

“Answering a question with a question. A classic. You used to forget your sketchbook in the library all the time.”

“Sometimes.”

They finally got to the front and 10 people were let in.

“The trick here is that they don’t start early. Give it a few seconds, and actors will start popping out but can’t touch you.” Bridgette told Felix, who she noticed seemed a little tense after the last maze.

“I figured.”

Bridgette frowned. The most she had gotten from him was a sentence or two.

“Did you know I had a crush on you back then?” She asked casually.

“You were way too obvious.” Felix looked straight ahead, avoiding eye contact. “Everyone knew. I didn’t like you back then because you had the voice of a mouse and the height of one as well. Glad to see nothing changed, though.”

“So you like me now, huh?” She teased playfully, paying no mind to the ‘insults’ because she knew he didn’t mean them.

“I’d say more tolerable than before.” He yawned. It wasn’t that late yet, but the flight really messed with him.

After that maze, they received a text from Allegra to meet her and Claude at the food court. They checked a map of the theme park and saw that the food court was quite far from where they were.

Upon encountering a cotton candy stand, she left Felix for a second to buy two. She offered the other to Felix, which he took from her hesitantly.

“I’ve never tried cotton candy before.”

“You what?!” Bridgette asked with a mouthful of cotton candy. “Go on then, try it!”

Felix stared at it for a second before taking a small piece and putting it in his mouth. “Too sweet.” He commented.

“Of course it’s sweet, it’s candy.” Bridgette rolled her eyes.

It took them a while to get to the food court, especially since Bridgette kept getting distracted by the smallest things. By the time they got there, Allan and Allegra were chatting and eating some sort of pie whilst Claude was fast asleep with his head on Allegra’s shoulder.

“Took you guys long enough,” Allegra said with a smirk.

“If only someone here didn’t get distracted by everything,” Felix began, gesturing to Bridgette. “we would have gotten here sooner.”

“Sounds like you two got your shit sorted out. We should probably head home, Claude’s heavy.”

Their seating arrangements in the car were changed slightly since Allegra couldn’t drive with a sleepy Claude refusing to let go of her. Felix offered to drive. There were fewer cars around that time so the drive back didn’t take as long as it did before.

Claude then suggested that they should all stay at his and Felix’s place for the night, to which Felix agreed to. Allan, Allegra, and Bridgette were fine with it as long as they could get a couple of their things first. Allan gave Felix the directions to where the three of them stayed, which apparently wasn’t too far from where they lived.

Once they had the things they needed, Felix drove to their place and parked the car in the garage.

As Claude and Allegra built a huge pillow fort in the living room, Felix went to the kitchen to get some water. It’s been a while since he’s enjoyed the company of other people. Bridgette went to the kitchen as well and got some water. She’s had far too many sweets that day.

“You’ve got a nice place.” She said, leaning against the counter.

“I suppose.” He replied, staring at his glass of water.

“Something wrong?” Bridgette asked, eyes filled with concern.

“The city’s filled with noise, it’s something I’m not quite used to.”

“You’ll manage,” This side of Felix was not something she’s quite used to. He looked lost in thought, and she figured a distraction would probably help. “Maybe you could show me some of your paintings? It’s been a while since I painted, and I still haven’t mastered the techniques.”

“I could just give you the smaller pieces. I have a lot and I never know where to put them.”

Bridgette smiled and uttered a quiet “thanks” as Felix headed up to the third floor where his room was. He opened one of his suitcases that kept his smaller paintings and took about 5 of them. He went back down to the kitchen where Bridgette still was, except this time she was sitting on the counter.

He handed over the canvases to her. “I’m quite proud of these. I could show you the larger pieces tomorrow morning if you want, there’s some kind of story hidden behind a few of them.”

“That would be nice.” She told him. Felix yawned, feeling a little sleepy. “It’s getting late, let’s get back to the others.” Bridgette carefully placed the painted canvases down on the counter, which she would retrieve the next morning.

There in the living room, the other three were watching a romantic comedy which neither Felix nor Bridgette knew the title of. They managed to build a fort that covered almost the entirety of the living room. Bridgette sat down next to Claude, and Felix sat down next to Bridgette.

“What took you guys so long? We’re like, a quarter into the movie.” Allegra said.

“Kitchen.” Felix simply replied.

Claude grinned at him. “See, I told you I could get you to socialize!”

“You didn’t tell me anything,” Felix said, crossing his arms.

“Oh, I must’ve told your father then. I’ll call him first thing in the morning and tell him about how well his son is doing so far! He’s going to be so proud of me that I will become the ultimate best son!”

Felix rolled his eyes at that as the other three laughed at Claude.

The rest of the night was spent watching whatever movie Allegra wanted to watch. Felix was the first to fall asleep, next was Claude, then Allan. Bridgette said something along the lines of “men are weak and have succumbed to the inevitable need for sleep” but was betrayed by a yawn.

Once Bridgette had fallen asleep, Allegra decided that she should turn off the tv. The only problem was that Claude was heavy and he was using Allegra as a pillow. She had to wake Bridgette up and ask her to turn off the tv, who grumpily did as asked.

That night, Felix slept peacefully in the midst of the city’s noise. It turns out, maybe New York can be tolerable.

[aballpitofsin]

(Not quite my best writing, but eh…I had to do it. 👀)

“Please don’t do this.”

Laughter, rough and cruel. “Afraid, Dousan? I thought you death-worshippers longed for this.”

“I do not plead on my own behalf; if this is to be the day of my return to Thra, I welcome it gladly. I plead only for your sake—and for his.”

The sound of a blow; a pained grunt, a rasping breath. “You won’t save your hide with threats. Light it!”

The crackle of kindling caught ablaze. Coughs, curses, retreating footsteps. A lone figure burning bright, gasping, straining.

“Please.” A voice thick, lungs overcome with smoke—words dripping sorrow, remorse, the inevitability of a broken heart.

“Please, don’t make him kill you!”

—

The first sign Mayrin had that something was terribly wrong were the screams.

They echoed throughout the palace: wild, panicked sounds, accompanied by the commotion of hundreds of feet fleeing. She turned away from the nobles giving report of their lands—more blighted crops, more mad livestock, more vanished workers—and turned instead to the main doors of the throne room, beyond which the clamour only continued to rise.

“Forgive me,” she addressed her audience, then turned to her ever-present assembly of Paladins. “Go investigate. See what that clamour is about.” They obeyed at once of course, but the first of them had barely taken a step before the doors were thrown open and a massive figure stormed inside, Gelfling scattering in fear to form a path before him. He moved purposefully forward, stalking like an untamed beast; an unfortunate noblewoman failed to skitter out of his way quickly enough, and he pushed her violently aside, snarling in annoyance over her reedy shriek.

The visitor was a Skeksis—that much Mayrin could see plainly, yet she could not recognise him as any of the Lords she had received in the past. He wore no robes or other regalia to identify him, garbed instead in roughed leather and armor made of what appeared to be animal bone. A menagerie of trinkets clattering at his waist as he stalked across the throne room, and on his back were strapped several fearsome-looking blades. The All-Maudra straightened her shoulders, bowing her head in reverence to their visitor as he came to stop some paces before her, and—oh, this close she could see those were not mere trinkets adorning his waist, but an array of skulls, the largest roughly Podling-sized.

She tore her eyes determinedly away from the grim sight. “I welcome you to Ha'rar, my Lord…” She trailed off, unsure of the proper address, hoping only that the Lord would not take offense.

If he did, she could not tell; the contempt in his expression remained unchanged, as dark as it had been when first he strode into her court.

“skekMal,” he growled, and even his voice was fearsome to behold, “the Hunter.”

At once a flurry of whispers swept across the room, frightened glances exchanged between the gathered nobles. From the few words she caught amongst them, Mayrin could guess their thoughts, and fought to urge to sigh in exasperation. There would be no banishing the superstitious, she supposed; though a sharp look at least quieted their murmurs.

“I welcome you, Lord skekMal the Hunter,” she greeted. “To what do I owe the honour of your presence here today?”

The Hunter gave no verbal reply; instead he raised one outstretched arm, something small and blackened dangling from his clenched fist. To Mayrin’s eye it looked like some manner of jewelry, like beads strung on a cord; the fist opened, and the object fell to the floor, clattering against the flagstones.

“Brea, don’t—”

The frantic whisper was Seladon’s voice, and Mayrin’s head snapped around in time to see her youngest daughter dart forward, carefully lifting the item the Lord had thrown before them. She examined it with gentle fingers, gasping when a portion of it still crumbled to dust at her touch; she turned back to her mother, and within her eyes Mayrin could see her clever little mind working.

“I think,” she whispered, “they’re bones. Some kind of animal.”

skekMal gave a snort, pulling Mayrin’s attention back to him, and for the first time since his arrival she saw something other than contempt in his eyes. He looked almost…impressed?

“Moog bones,” he confirmed. “The Dousan carry them for protection.” He spat the last word like so much venom on his tongue, and there was such hatred in it that Mayrin saw several Gelfling recoil. She looked again to the charm in her daughter’s hands, its deliberate craftmanship—and she understood.

“Ah,” she said, relieved to have some answer, “you have come from the Crystal Desert.”

The Hunter looked up, attention turning away from Brea (Mayrin sagged inwardly with relief) and fixing the All-Maudra with a cold glare. His gaze trailed sideways, over her other two daughters; further, to where her Paladins stood vigilant. On them he stopped, eyes narrowing as they crawled over them one by one, as though commiting every part of them to memory in detail.

“You sent that lot to the Desert outskirts,” he said with a jerk of his head in the Paladins’ direction. It was not a question.

“I did,” Mayrin confirmed regardless. “There have been several reports as of late of Gelfling going missing near its borders; we have reason to believe it was the Dousan who are behind these disappearances.” Did the Hunter not already know this? The information had come directly from their Lords at the Castle, after all. “I sent a group of my Paladins to the Crystal Desert to investigate. There, they report that they came into conflict with a hostile Dousan sand ship.”

She bowed her head in reverence. “My Paladins had no choice but to defend themselves. If they have somehow offended your Lordship, you have my deepest regrets.”

There was a moment, then, where Mayrin believed the matter resolved. Whatever anger the Hunter carried, it would be soothed, be it by words or by penance. In that moment, she felt content in knowing that she had once again kept peace between Gelfling and Skesis, as there had been since time immemorial.

And then skekMal spoke.

“You have all offended me.”

Whatever response Mayrin had been expecting—it was not that. Her head snapped up in alarm, and at her side she heard Seladon suck in a breath of similar sentiment.

“I…apologise, My Lord,” she floundered, unsure how to proceed. “The Vapran Clan has always prided itself on its loyalty to the Lords of the Crystal. To think we have caused offense—”

The Hunter’s laugh came like a blow, so harsh and abrupt that several of the gathered nobles screamed in alarm; somewhere in the crowd, a noblewoman began to weep.

“Fuck your clan,” he spat. “And fuck your Gelfling, every last one of you. Worthless, pitiful lot; playing your petty games as though your existence is of any consequence. You are nothing better than vermin crawling across the land, and the very sight of you offends me.”

The sheer vitriol of the words was shocking to Mayrin, and she heard the hushed gasps of the court in agreement. They all knew their place as Gelfling, of course: so far below the Skeksis as to be insignificant, blessed only by their Lords’ grace and generosity to be given any consideration at all. But to hear it so cruelly, her kind regarded with such open loathing?

“Rek'yr was the only one of your race worth anything,” the Hunter continued. “He was the only thing keeping your wretched hides alive.” His eyes flashed, talons curling and uncurling in agitation, as though he would have loved nothing more than to strike her down where she stood.

“And your Paladins butchered him.”

Despite herself, the All-Maudra swallowed. She could not help her fear—to have angered one of their esteemed Lords was a dire situation for any Gelfling to be in. But she had to stand strong, for the sake of her people. Perhaps there was some way still to fix this, some compensation to offer Lord skekMal for the loss of this…Rek'yr. “My Lord Hunter—”

skekMal cut her off with a snarl, and the words were nothing Mayrin could recognise. They were harsh, guttural; entirely alien in form and tone, like nothing spoken across the face of Thra. From the corner of her eye she saw Seladon lunge forward to snatch Brea from where she still knelt on the floor, dragging her back and throwing her protectively behind herself and Tavra.

But then she could watch her daughters no more, because the Lord’s silhouette advanced, blocking out the rest of the throne room with his bulk. He loomed before her, and even in that he was startlingly different from his brethren: where the other Crystal Lords seemed comment to look down to Gelfling, skekMal bent until their eyes were level, close enough that the jagged edges of his break brushed her nose. His breath stank, the sweetness of rotted meat and death, and it took every ounce of Mayrin’s strength not to recoil from him in terror.

“One trine,” he said, and lifted a single finger as though to demonstrate. “Your lot have one trine to prepare. Run, if you think you can. Hide in your forests, your mountains, your caves. Bring your weapons, for all the good they’ll do you; build your fortifications, as though they’ll keep you safe.

"One trine, to the day. That much, I’ll allow you—for Rek'yr’s sake.

The finger fell, the hand soon to follow. Mayrin followed its drop with her eyes, suddenly very aware of how silent the room had fallen.

"And after one trine?” she asked, softly. “What happens then?”

The Hunter laughed, low and terrible, and Mayrin felt a chill wash over her—as though some ancient, half-forgotten part of her was screaming in terror as it gazed upon a being not unlike death itself.

“Then,” he growled, “I begin my hunt.”

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 36: Land of Light

Chapters: 36/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: None Relationships: Loki x Reader (Someday) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Reader, Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), What Do You Mean Aliens Look Alien, Tara Is 100% That Bitch And I Love Her, Still Building The Realms, I Think That’s The Last One Though Summary:   You and your best friend reconnect, an Loki teaches you about a very special realm

Now that you had a phone, you sure were taking a lot of pictures. Of Akureyri, on your way out. Of Acorn and Leynarodd. Of all the sights on the way back to Asgard. And of Loki. One picture especially, of you and him crammed close together, to get both of you in the frame, you set as your lockscreen, and sent to Tara, whom you had begun texting earlier that morning.

After you had both stopped shrieking at each other-which had unsettled Loki enough that he hovered around you like a concerned hornet-you had spilled all the beans about what had been going on all summer. Everything, up to and including punching Loki in the bathtub. Loki had whined in protest over that: a mistake, because Tara heard him. You put her on speaker so she could sass him, and so he could sass her back. You thought they were going to go on forever, until Tara unexpectedly turned on you.

“So why does Count Chocula there get the most beautiful horse in the world, while you get the goofiest one?”

“I'm sure once I discover the source of that reference, I shall be sufficiently offended.” Loki muttered.

“How dare you!” You mock-gasped. “Don't you smack talk Acorn! She's perfection.”

“His horse looks like she was carved from black marble by Michelangelo himself. Yours looks like a soggy muppet.”

“You get over here and say that to my face! I'll put my fist between your teeth, you see if I don't! Don't you pay attention to a single thing she says, Acorn. You are the actual best.”

Acorn snorted and meandered placidly along.

“You really gonna threaten me with a good time while your boy toy is sitting right next to you? Risky.”

“He is not-” You began.

“You punched him right in the snoot, and you're still alive. You know he liked it!”

“I don't know that at all!” You couldn't help but to glance over at Loki, who was slightly pink in the cheeks.

“Well...I didn't hate it.” He admitted. “You didn't hurt me, and you were naked at the time, so it certainly wasn't the worst thing that has ever happened to me...”

“Oh my god!” You wailed.

“Oh my god!” Tara squealed.

“We are not having this conversation. In fact, we never started this conversation. Never happened.” You stated firmly.

“Ohhoho, it happened all right!” Tara gloated. “I'm gonna bring this up everyday for the next three years, try and stop me.”

“Why must you torment me so?”

“Dude, you're starting to sound like MacBeth over there. Well, if you aren't dating him, I might. Hey War of the Roses, you wanna go on a date?”

“She's as bad as Stark...” Loki muttered.

“Oh my god, Tara! You can't just proposition my boss, you dork!”

Loki grimaced and stuck his nose in the air. “It is inappropriate to approach me in the way of a peasant. You are aware of my status, and I'll thank you to remember it, you impertinent tart.”

“Hey! You can't call me that!”

“Yeah! You can't call her that! But I can!” You cried gleefully. “That's your name now, it's going in my contacts!”

The two of you devolved into calling each other extremely rude nicknames, while Loki sighed and urged Leynarodd forward.

“I do not understand the intricacies of human friendship.” He said.

Afterwards, you begin describing you new home, its beauty and mystery. How the sun never set, and the unusual architecture and clothing of the Asgardians, Of the things you had learned about other planets. Tara, like you, always had great deal of curiosity about outer space and alien species; it was something you had played at as children, discussed and fantasized about as teenagers. She wanted every detail of what you had been taught about Vanaheim, Nidavellir, Svartalfheim, and all the Jotnar.

Loki interrupted every now and again, to amend a detail you had gotten wrong, or to praise you for what you remembered correctly. He even seemed slightly surprised when you listed the differences you had noticed between humans and Asgardians, as if he had never thought about it.

Eventually, your battery began to run low, and you were forced to bid Tara farewell for the day, with many promises of future calls.

You stopped in the small forest for lunch, peeking into the underbrush for elves and fairies again. Loki caught you at it while handing you half-frozen bilberries out of a bag, leaning in close to you and peering into the brush.

“What do you seek out there?” He asked. “Would you like one of those flowers? You could wear it in your hair-just so.” He twirled a strand around his finger. You swallowed, pretending your throat was just thick with berries.

“Er, no. It's kinda silly. This looks like the kind of place elves would live. But that's obviously not-”

“Well, there's only the one sun, but the length of the days in the summer is reminiscent of Alfheim, after a fashion.” Loki interrupted idly.

“I'm sorry, elves are real?”

He fixed you with an incredulous expression. “Yes, of course. You've already learned about Svartalfari-you know, the dark elves?”

“Well...yeah. But I thought they were just called that because they looked like elves, but they weren't ...real elves...” Now that you said it out loud, it didn't make much sense. If something 'looked like' an elf, what made it not an elf?

“What, do tell, are 'real elves' to you?” Loki asked. “I'm...actually too curious for sarcasm.”

“Okay, yes, that was silly of me and I don't really understand why I thought that way. I guess it's just that the elves from my childhood stories all live in forests, and they dance and sing, and are very noble, and magical, and kind. They live close to nature, and befriend animals. That kind of thing.”

“So...Ljosalfar.” Loki said, as if it were obvious. “The light elves of Alfheim.”

“So they're real too?”

“Very. Though they may not be quite what you had pictured. Alfheim is a place of endless sunlight, and life there has adapted to it. There is a system of three great stars, that are locked in an intricate dance near the heart of their galaxy. Shared between them is one planet, and seven moons. The system almost never experiences night. It is in many ways, the complete opposite of Svartalfheim.”

“So it's like this-” You gestured at the ever-present sun. “-All the time?”

“And often moreso. The sky is the palest blue- nearly white. The planet orbits the innermost and largest star, so there is nearly always at least one sun in the sky, and sometimes more. There are nearly always a handful of moons, even in the odd times when all of the suns have set. And even on the very rare occasions that all the suns and moons are out of the sky, the heavens of Alfheim are so packed with stars, that the world is merely dim, never dark.”

“That sounds like it would drive me nuts.” You said. “Like, it sounds incredibly beautiful, but I've already lost track of how long I've been here, and I've only got the one sun to mislead me. How do they even tell the time?”

“They don't.” Loki said with a shrug. “Alfar are effectively undying. They are beings of unparalleled magical aptitude, and it prolongs their lives. They live, until they decide not to. Some never make that decision. But they live as you say; dancing and singing whenever they feel like, living among the natural wonders of their worlds, and they are very friendly and very kind.”

He held his hands apart, and three huge suns appeared between them, spinning in a complex orbit. Around the innermost hung a large world, surrounded by many moons.

“As you can see, the foliage here is different than on Earth, or Asgard, or Vanaheim, for the suns are different, but it is even more lush and vibrant.”

Trees, bushes, and flowers sprouted from his hands, glowing in strange colors. The tallest trees were bright blue, their broad leaves riddled with natural holes and clear, membranous windows that filtered light down to the undercanopy, made up of mostly yellowish plants, that graduated down to orange at the lowest levels of growth. The flowers came in shapes and color combinations that you could never have imagined, visited by iridescent bird-like creatures, and metallic arthropods.

A creature emerged from the undergrowth, roughly humanoid, but oddly proportioned to your eyes. Its arms, torso, neck and face were long, making its legs seem short in comparison. Its skin was pearly white, and like a pearl, it shone with reflected light. Even its pale hair sparkled like it had been dusted with glitter, and its huge, sharply tilted eyes practically glowed, a row of pinpoint pupils crossing them diagonally. To the satisfaction of all your childhood fantasies, it also had long, pointed ears.

“They're very different, aren't they?” You asked. You found the little figure oddly beautiful, but also just unusual enough to be slightly unsettling.

“A little yes.” Loki agreed. “I've certainly seen stranger, but you've been stuck here all your life. Am I perhaps the first real extraterrestrial you ever laid hands on?”

“I think you mean eyes.”You said.

“I think I mean that the very first time we met, you grabbed me by the hand before you ever saw my face. So yes, you laid hands on me first.”

“...Okay, that's fair.” You admitted irritably. “I had no idea that was you, to begin with.”

“Clearly.” Loki said dryly. “No human had yet touched me with so little hostility. Obviously, you didn't know who I was at the time. You made up for it the second time we met, when you hit me in the nose and tried to drown yourself in river mud rather than be near me. That was much more par for the course.”

Oh, now you felt the guilt. Loki was probably used to being shunned by the people of Earth, but being used to it was not the same as being unaffected by it. You hunched your shoulders and looked away from the little figure.

“Now, now.” Loki said, cupping your chin in his slim hand, and turning your face to look at him. “Do not take it as an indictment. Your rather foolhardy bravery has served you well in my eyes, by bringing forward things I might not have realized in a timely enough manner. An Asgardian lets their deeds speak for them most of the time. And you did not hurt me. It was the emotions and causes behind your strikes that effected me, not the strikes themselves. You did not hurt me. You cannot hurt me.”

You just gazed fixedly into his eyes as he lied with such incredible expertise. You had called him a monster back then, and you had seen it hurt him.

But if he just meant physically...probably. It wasn't exactly an excuse for losing your temper, though.

He withdrew his hand abruptly, and scooted the floating images between the two of you.

“Now,” He continued, voice a little tight. “Unlike the Vanir or Svartalfari, who are rather homogeneous in appearance, Alfar are more like humans and Asgardians, in that they come in multiple 'colors'.”

So he was just going to continue on, as if he hadn't just interrupted the lesson to lay the guilt on you, and then absolved you in nearly the same breath? All right, you could keep up with him and his moods.

Several more figures emerged from the illusory plants, each distinctly Alfar in shape, some taller, some shorter, all willowy and delicate in appearance. Each different Alfar looked as if they had been dipped in a different color of chrome paint: Gold, copper, silver, bronze, even pale, steely blue, green, and lavender. Standing out among them was a completely black individual, an obsidian carving among gilded statues.

This individual possessed slightly different proportions than its fellows, much closer to humans and Asgardians, though its torso, neck, and face were still clearly Alfar.

“Ah, I see. All this shining precious metal before you, and yet, the mysterious Dokkalfar has enchanted you. You show uncommon taste sometimes, my dea-” He cleared his throat. “My little seidkona.”

“It's just so different from all the others, and I wonder why? Different environment?”

“Exactly so. Remember all those lovely moons that surround Alfheim? They are considered a part of Alfheim as well, as each one supports life, and each one is inhabited by Alfar. As well as Vanir, some Asgardians, and a few Jotnar. This is the place that Gerd calls home. Remember her? The silver-skinned giantess who so enchanted Freyr?”

“Um, yeah. Is that why she had all those mirror patches on her skin? Because the Alfar are metallic?”

“Hmm, well the reasons why she has them, and the reasons why the Alfar shine are the same reasons. Can you guess why they might have adapted that way? It's why I cannot take you to Alfheim unless I cover you from head to toe in clothes and wide-brimmed hats. Or else slather you thickly in your special lotions, with their high numbers of 'spiffs'.”

“I think you mean 'SPF'-oh, it's the suns! It's to protect them from sun damage!”

“Indeed! They simply reflect back whatever light they cannot absorb. Of course, this is not so easy for the Asgardian and Vanir colonists to do, but that is where the Dokkalfar come in.”

A pair of campers approached cautiously, staring at the illusions Loki produced. One asked something in Icelandic, which you had even less of a grasp on than Asgardian.

“No, miss. We will be leaving shortly.” Loki replied.

She asked something else, and you thought you hear the word 'Aesir' within the sentence. Loki smiled and nodded, dismissing the illusions before presumably bidding the campers farewell, as he began gathering up the remains of your lunch as soon as he stopped talking.

“They wanted to use the table, but were a little frightened of the magic. Christians, I believe. Not everyone turned to the old ways just because we returned, after all.”

“Oh. Right, Christianity would be your enemy, wouldn't it? Since you're a pagan god?” It would make sense for there to be a rivalry.

“Not necessarily.” He said, as you rode back through the forest. “I care nothing for the Christians of today. They are very different now that they were, because humans are different today than they were, though not by much. I had some hope that a thousand years might have allowed them to learn not to fear all things different than they. But since that's how their leaders gained power in the first place, it is unlikely that they will ever give it up. In other words, they may see me as a thing to fear, and even hate, but I do not see them that way. However, if you find yourself with the time and inclination, look up the history of conversion in Scandinavia, and perhaps you will understand why it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. It was one of several reasons I never came back after my Midgard training module ended.”

“Well, uh, let's keep talking Alfar then.” You suggested. There was old regret in his words, a mystery that was shrouded in the mist of generations past to you, but but that Loki remembered from physically being there...Maybe he hadn't always looked down on humans, but had been bitten sometime long ago.

How much history could he return to the world? First-hand accounts of what was going on in Northern Europe a thousand years ago? How come there wasn't an entire camp full of dedicated historians parked on Asgard's doorstep?

“You have something on your mind.” He stated.

“Oh, uh, we were talking about Dokkalfar?” Maybe you shouldn't bring it up further.

Loki raised an eyebrow. You weren't exactly lying, but you were sidestepping the truth, and he probably knew it. Apparently, he decided to let it go.

“A little history is probably important at this point. Alfheim was discovered by my grandfather, Bor, shortly after the Vanir campaign, and he was seeking a definitive 'win' after the humiliating draw he'd had to declare with the Vanir. He also had three new Aesir to deal with: Njord and the Twins, and had been forced to leave his two eldest children with their people. He was very frustrated, is the point I'm trying to make. Alfheim broke him.”

Loki sighed, but it seemed almost to be with satisfaction. “The Alfar would not fight, and could not be killed. Any that were captured to be pressed into slavery simply willed themselves to die. When Asgardians were friendly and kind, so too were the Alfar. When Asgardians were threatening and violent, the Alfar were nowhere to be found, but monstrous wildlife, mysterious accidents, and magical subterfuge were suddenly unavoidable. Add to that the punishing sunlight that Asgardians were not adapted to, and the thick, un-navigable forests that cover all but a very small portion of Alfheim or any of its moons, and the fact that most Alfar live in the trees, and you have a recipe for a disastrous military campaign. One that didn't even need to be waged, because the Alfar were perfectly willing to share their resources with us in the first place.

“My grandfather was forced to call another truce, rather than lose more of his soldiers while making no headway. Egalitarian colonies were established there instead. Like the Vanir, the Alfar became allies instead of conquests, making us all richer in the process. One of the better things he did, if you ask me. Honestly, every time Grandfather failed, it always seemed like it was for the better.”

It was really strange to think of such an ancient civilization as Asgard having only had four leaders in its entire lifespan, and that three of them had turned out to be such jerks.

“Why was he so bent of fighting in the first place?” You wondered. “You'd think it would be a relief to find people who wanted to share their stuff and be your friends.”

“Grandfather was very single minded.” Loki answered. “He was the kind of king that left most of the actual ruling to his council, and his remaining son, while he took responsibility for expanding Asgardian influence and power. And he was very good at it! Like I said, even when he failed, Asgard found benefit in it. It's just that some Aesir seem to get caught up in their godhead, and it can cause a consuming madness that is not easy to escape. Some do not try. It's likely that this happened to my sister, and she simply could not free herself from the madness.”

He sighed again, but this time there was no satisfaction.

“Did that happen to you?” You asked, realizing that you didn't actually know what exactly Loki was the god of. You had asked everyone except him.

“We were talking about the Dokkalfar.” He pointed out. So he was going to be Like That. You would have to ask again later.

“Yeah, I guess we were. So what about them?”

“They evolved on the most distant moon, where the forests are taller, but the trees thinner than the others. These trees are so tall that they block most of the light, so the Dokkalfar evolved black skin to absorb light, rather than reflect it. And these trees are too slender to build homes in, making these the only Alfar to live at ground level. That is why they look different than the others: Adaptive pressures. It turned out the way they live is perfect for teaching Asgardians and Vanir how to survive in they system, and there are still several colonies on the moons. Especially this one.”

He held up his hand, the fifth moon of Alfheim spinning there.

“My mother was born here.”

[nonbinary-moth]

A small fic for @starlightkeybright‘s AU they came up with with Ventus and Roxas being knights sworn to protect Sora. This is all beginning stuff, but I’d love to continue, if thats okay with Star

“Hey, we’re gonna be late, come on!”

Roxas rolled his eyes as he ran after his brother. It was way too early for exercise in his opinion, but Ventus was the dictionary definition of a morning person. Awake at the crack of dawn, waking him up as well while he was at it, having breakfast made by half six and ready to leave the house at 7. He was usually still in bed by that time.

Still, he never would’ve been able to oversleep today. After three long years of training they were finally ready to graduate the academy and become real knights. Serving the kingdom had been a dream of his since childhood, and despite Ven’s slightly annoying, overly optimistic attitude, he couldn’t help smile as he followed.

He finally caught up to him, breathing heavily as he stared upwards at the palace. The Kingdom of Lux was one of the largest in the country, and certainly the richest, so it made sense the palance matched the grandeur. Golden gears and pipes decorated the walls, with glowing crystals for light all over the place. The main building split off into many towers, connected by beams of light, with dangerous-looking staircases spiralling upwards. From his position on the ground he could see people making their way across the walkways, perhaps getting things ready for their ceremony.

“Ven, over here!” A voice cut through the growing crowd, attracting both of their attention. It was Terra, one of the senior members of the Crownsguard. They were the best of the best, tasked with protecting the royal family whenever they left the palace. He was dressed in his armour, and despite being close friends with Ven he would never abandon his post whilst on duty. Which meant the King was going to be here soon.

“Terra! I haven’t seen you in forever!” Clearly not thinking as much as him, Ven ran past him, jumping up as he hugged the older man. He staggered backwards slightly, laughing and hugging back.

“Been busy, with Sora being officially named as the heir to the throne and all. New shifts had to be set out, since he’d be a priority target for any enemies right now. I’m on duty all day, but I’ll be around for the ceremony - and Aqua too.” He grinned, and Ventus grinned back, bouncing up and down his excitement. Terra’s eyes flitted over to Roxas, a surprised expression crossing his face, before being replaced with realisation. “Oh, you must be his twin brother, Ven told me about you.”

“Yep, Roxas! You can tell by the eye colour.” He wrapped his arm around his, smiling and pointing up at his eyes. Their natural eye colour was a bright blue, but Ventus wore filtered contact lenses to fix his eyesight, giving them a green hue. The sudden contact unsettled Roxas, and he felt the sudden urge to dart away, but managed to stop himself from doing so. Ven seemed to notice, however, and quickly let go of him. He silently thanked him.

“Nice to meet you. Suppose you can’t wait either, huh?” Roxas nodded, unsure to find the right words quick enough, but Ventus saved him yet again.

“We both are! Do you know where we’ll be? The ceremony starts at nine, and we need to be at the Hall by then.” He spoke quickly, more than likely to draw the attention to him. Once again, he silently thanked him. Terra laughed lightly, ruffling his hair.

“You’ll have to find out later, kiddo. I know you’ll be happy about it.” He glanced up at the castle, where a group of soldiers were opening the doors. “Looks like it's almost time. Good luck!” He smiled, and the twins smiled back. With a quick wave from Ventus, the two ran through the gates and into the castle.

+++

They had been in the castle before, but never the Royal Hall. That was where the most important meetings were held, where laws and fates were decided. If you were called there, it would become the best day or the worst day of your life. Walking through the gilded hallways, Roxas hoped it would be the former.

He glanced over at Ventus, still bouncing in excitement with a barely contained smile on his face. Of course there was, both of their dreams were about to come true, but the dregs of worry still lingered in his mind. What if it wasn’t what he had hoped? What if he was stuck patrolling some out-of-the-way border for the rest of his life? An important job, sure, but it was the excitement he craved, an adventure he couldn’t get just from staying in the city.

No, he had to think positive. This was going to change his life, in a good way. Serving his kingdom was his dream. No matter where he was going, he’d be making a difference. He only wished one thing - he stayed with Ven. He was strong, excelling in places no one could dare reach, but he felt a lot safer around his brother. He wondered what Ven was thinking. What was he hoping for?

They reached the door to the Hall, guarded by two helmet-clad guardsmen. As they approached they turned, opening the door. Light poured out, and Roxas quickly closed his eyes, a gasp from Ven telling him he hadn’t been so lucky. At least he had the filters in his eyes to help him adjust.

The room, unlike the golden-brown walls of the halls they had been wandering for a while now, was almost completely white, lit by chandeliers of glowing crystals high above them. Gold trim outlined the details on the walls and decorations, only adding to the grandeur of the room. The most eye-catching display, if you could see it through the blinding white, was the large stained glass window on the far wall.

Divided into three parts, each depicting the three kingdoms of Cor. Lux - his home. A kingdom of light and prosperity. They shone above the thrones, causing a yellowish glow upon the room. The patterns were intricate and detailed, showing the sun shining down on a crowd of people. A golden crown - the official symbol of Lux - divided the two.

Nox, the city’s twin, dominated the bottom left of the glass. The two had split apart many years ago, and it was hard to tell that they had ever shared a name on sight alone. Things were darker there, with the strongest warrior staying on top, and fights for the throne were frequent. They were not a bloodthirsty kingdom, however. If anything, they were usually the more serious and level-headed of the three. A strong throne lead to a strong king.

The third kingdom, Crepusculum was a lot smaller than the others, but just as powerful. Starting off as a small town outside of the great kingdom Lux and Nox once were, rebels fleeing the joint kingdom settled there, and as they split apart, those who decided to stay built up their defences and declared themselves a separate kingdom. It had once been free to all, but nowadays it was tough to even visit. He had no idea what happened behind the black and white walls, and he had a feeling he wouldn’t during his lifetime.

His eyes fell downwards, towards the thrones. Made of gold - much like everything else in the room - and casting a shadow from the elaborate stained glass window across the floor. There were three of them, the one in the middle being the largest with the two beside identical. In the center sat the king, Eraqus. He wore a patient expression with a kind smile as he stared at the two of them. There was no crown on his head, yet the aura of power and radiance from him was unmistakable.

To the right of the grand throne was the newly-named heir. A young boy, around his age Roxas guessed, with spiky brown hair, topped with a golden crown. Was that even allowed, wearing a symbol of royalty when the King himself didn't? This didn’t seem like the right place to ask. He was clearly having trouble staying calm himself, his eyes flitting around and bouncing on his seat slightly. A smile was barely hidden on his face. He and Ventus had a lot in common. Beside him stood a silver haired boy Roxas didn’t recognize, keeping an eye on the young prince with occasional glances up at the newcomers, a stern expression on his face. He guessed he was the prince’s bodyguard, but the black suit put him off the idea - it didn’t seem like the right attire.

The left throne remained empty, as it had for years. The Queen would have sat there, but it had been years since she was seen around the kingdom. He was never told what had happened, and he had the feeling that was on purpose.

“Roxas and Ventus, I assume?” Eraqus said, the sound echoing throughout the chamber. They nodded.

“The two newest graduates of the Academy. I have heard many good things about the two of you. Roxas, your ability to wield two keyblades with equal skill - or maybe more skill - than some of our finest soldiers is quite impressive.”

Roxas felt his face turn red as he nodded, accepting the praise wordlessly. What had started as a joke between him and Ventus had turned into his signature style of fighting. Years of honing the skill had turned it into something completely unique to him, and he was often asked to teach the skill to the younger students of the Academy. He always refused, however. This was his thing, and he wanted it to stay that way.

“And Ventus. Quick as the wind, holding your keyblade backhand unlike what had been taught to you, and excelling with it at that. Why you two deviated from your teachings is a mystery to me, but I cannot call it a bad thing, as it has done no harm on your skill or reputation.”

He couldn’t help feeling slightly offended at his words, but he watched Ventus accept the praise and decided to leave it. It was a dare that started all this - who could come up with the most elaborate way to fight with a keyblade. Ventus held his backwards, a joke to the rest of the class, but he quickly learned how to use it to catch his opponents off guard. Roxas went for a more powerful approach, using two keyblades at once. At first the weight was hard to handle, but he learned to use the momentum from one swings to power another. He had been called out for cheating in the past, but he had been allowed to continue after a spar with one of the visiting professors from another academy in Nox, who convinced them to let him develop his skill.

“I’m sure you two are eager to know your future. You two have been together since birth, training and learning together, and I can tell you that will continue throughout your service here for the kingdom.” Roxas breathed a sigh of relief. “I have an important task for the two of you, one that I know you can excel in. You are both capable keyblade wielders, creating and mastering your own style. Furthermore, you are young, and possess qualities that I can only describe as ideal to be a perfect role model to my heir.”

He blinked, suddenly looking upwards. He didn’t mean-?

Eraqus guestered towards the young prince, who was fighting so much it was a miracle he hadn’t left his seat already. He had broken into a smile, fingers drumming on the armrest of the throne as he looked between the king and the two of them. The young man next to him was clearly sick of it, rolling his eyes as obviously as he dared.

“Sora is kind and I know will make a wonderful king one day, but he is naive from being raised in such a sheltered manner. I ask the two of you to protect him, teach him the ways of this kingdom. He already possesses the knowledge needed to run the kingdom, he just needs a little help making it all click in.” He laughed.

“Of course, Your Majesty. We swear to serve you and the kingdom until our dying breath-” Roxas began a speech he had prepared a while ago, but was cut off by a wave of Eraqus’s hand.

“Please, none of the formalities. Think of this more as a favour.” He wasn’t quite sure how to react, but nodded and bowed, glancing across to watch Ventus copy him. He had stayed silent this whole time, the smile replaced by a serious expression. Wonder when that updated.

“Thank you. You are dismissed. Meet me in an hour in the gardens, I will introduce Sora to you properly.” Eraqus smiled, and guestered for them to leave. They bowed again, and left the hall.

[kinkyacademia]

Heya Mod Pasta! Hope you’re well! Could I request a kind of love/hate or lust/hate competitive relationship between Powerloader and an s/o who’s also a costume designer but who’s costumes are pretty avant- garde. Like they both respect the hell out of each other but also can’t stand each other’s costume tastes. Thank you!! 🌺

This is saucy. Hey, has anyone considered that I would give one of my left toes for Iida x Midoriya? Now, now, let’s not fret, I would give the left half of my body for Villain!Iida x Villain!Deku.Btw I might not respond to all of my old requests? I barely have any villain ones, and I’m really feeling villainy lately.OKAY OKAY BUT: “power loader? Power… power THRUST, a loaded THRUST”

-Mod Pasta🍜🍝

Your favourite thing to do with Maijima was to drive around town and simply enjoy the sights. The drum of the engine was soothing the the both of you, and he was more than willing to jump to anyone’s aid if there was a villain attack.

Oh, and of course you were ready as well with your micro tech. Maijima cursed it to all hell, saying “things shouldn’t suddenly appear out of no where!” You still fought with him, hand in hand, but the aftermath of your bickering never left the city in one piece. You still patched each other up, albeit giving a couple lashes out when possible, and had some great anger/make up sex afterwards.

And this was one of those times. After a rather large villain had attacked the city, you and Power Loader were called out to fight. You rushed out of the door with a couple devices attached in just under two minutes, while you had to wait a couple more for him to strap in and activate his machine, “Jesus, just imagine how many civilians are being crushed under rubble right now! I swear, I WILL fucking go without you!”

“And you wouldn’t be able to save ‘em, eh? Just go fight, it’s a better sight than you yelling!” He grabbed the controls, glancing one time down at you before jumping off. You quickly caught up with a scowl, and he was snickering to himself, that bastard. Your support items kept your speed up with his own, and you latched onto his hero suit; it’s how you usually would travel during a crisis like this.

“Oi, I can pull people out of rubble just as, if not faster than you! You’re in a block of metal, for Gods’ sake!” You looked around for the issue, trying to spot the street you were called to.

“Oh, really, with those small little gadgets? Give it up, you’re making up for the lack of a flashy quirk with some flashy shit,” he snapped, and you pointed him in the right direction when you saw something black crash into the top of a building. He muttered to himself as he shifted gears.

“Give it up, you’re just jealous that they’re the largest thing attached to me,” you laughed luxuriously at his gaping, offended mouth as the warm air rushing past you came to a sudden halt. You had arrived at the scene of the crime, and you jumped off to find the villain and the pro hero you usually worked with as Maijima instantly went to the calls of the wounded.

“This conversation is not over,” he threw over his shoulder, and you felt a rush of adrenaline at his words.

-

You yawned as you fixed a simple dinner (practically breakfast with how late it was) for Maijima and you. He had been injured in the fight, and you were home a lot earlier than him. He wasn’t going to be in the hospital for long, so you thought the least you could do was not grace him with your presence after his surgery and just fix some food up.

Just as you finished and played yourself, the front door opened. You waited for him to shout “I’m home!” But it never came, just a small groan of pain. You quickly put your food down on the counter, far from his dog, and rushed to find him slumped against the wall of the foyer. He had bandages around his shoulders, mid-section, and left lower leg. You felt a pang of sympathy for him, “Hey, hey don’t push yourself, how can I help?”

“I’d really… REALLY love some of whatever yah made,” he chuckled, wincing in pain. You helped him to the table, scolding him you endangering himself.

“I’m just glad you’re home. What the hell-WHO the hell did this to you?” You ate furiously, and he picked at the food as he told his story of absolute shitty heroics. He couldn’t have a shirt on for the next couple days until his shoulders healed, which wasn’t that bad since he never wore one in the first place, but he also had to wear shorts as not to aggravate his leg wound. His current shorts were torn to hell, and you realized that at least part of his story was the full truth.

“And the building came down like a skyscraper - you saw it, eh? Yeah, well I was directly fucking under it, and that villain used his quirk to crush the top- hey, pay attention to me!” He whined when you pulled your phone out to text a friend. You eyed him, smiling and then continuing, “Oi, when I said our conversation wasn’t done, I meant it asshat.”

“Oh, and where would you like to continue? At “this is the biggest thing on me,” you flashed a bracelet that could unfurl into a fully loaded machine gun, “or your block suit that’s currently out of commission in the garage?” Your disappointed gaze betrayed your curiosity.

“Let’s start with: that’s NOT the biggest thing attached to you, and you know it, so stop making fun of my height,” he snapped, taking a rather large bite of food and accidentally crunching on the fork. He quickly grabbed his jaw, moaning in pain before sighing and shaking his mat of ginger hair out of his face.

“Right, your height,” You snickered, and he gaped in offense.

“Alrigh’ alrigh’, I was giving you the benefit of the doubt, but you seriously were-? Fuck, do I have to prove-? Fine, fine, just let me shower after dinner,” he mumbled to himself as he shoved food into his mouth. You blinked in surprise- he was serious about that? It was just a joke… His determined expression gave you a feeling that he was not kidding about plowing you down even in his roughed up shape just to prove his point about his dick size.

Well, that was one way to go about it, “Really? You’re out of commission, Maijima, not happening. Your inadequacies are going to get you even more injured,” you growled, glaring at his flushed cheeks and narrowed dulled blue eyes.

“I suggest, (F/N), that you consider not insulting your boyfriend before battle,” his eyes flirted over to lock with yours, causing your stomach to instantly flush with butterflies. He still did that to you, “I’m still riled up and full of fight. I’m not taking it out on the punching bag,” he pushed himself up, putting his plate in the sink and then grabbing your shoulders roughly with his large hands, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Leave the shitty gadgets behind this time, won’t you?”

-

You were changing into pajamas when the wooden bedroom door opened. He came out in a towel, skin tinted pink with hot shower water (the only thing able to get off the amount of grime he accumulated every day), but he pulled it off to dry his hair off a bit before throwing it at the hamper. You scowled; he would be the death of you, dammit, “Hey, pick that up-“

“Nope, bedtime,” he pushed his fluffy ginger mat back, stifling a yawn as he stretched his arms. He winced in pain, but his shoulders were already looking better. You raised an eyebrow, reaching for your book slowly in hopes that he still wasn’t serious about the sex. He was wrapped half like a mummy for gods’s sake!

Nope. He pushed your book away from you, climbing overtop and sinking into the fuzzy white blanket. He glared with disapproval, “You’ve got to learn to take me seriously.”

“Not when you say your inventions can protect you from falling buildings,” you snapped back, and he grit his teeth as he narrowed his eyes.

“Don’t you fucking dare-“

“Oh, I fucking dare, Maijima, I do. You told me “oh, everything will be fine, it’s just a couple starter villains!” And look at you now. Just…” you lightly pushed on his shoulders, trying to get him to let you take over, “Let me ride you, we’re not going back to the hospital.”

“Mmm, it doesn’t look like I feel like doing that today, huh sweets?” He purred, leaned down to capture your lips with his own. You begrudgingly kissed back, grabbing his jaw instead of his arms as you usually would. As his hands began to wander down you body, he pressed on, heating the kiss up. You managed to get a couple words in between the breaks, though.

“You wouldn’t… have gotten hurt… if you just used my…” you pulled back into him, and he stopped you by pulling your shirt off and diving down to greedily grope, nip, and suck on your breasts.

“Mmm, I think I woulda been crushed to a pulp,” he chuckled, and you growled in distain.

“Fuck off, you’d have dodged everything in time,” you pulled lightly on his hair, and he responded with something akin to an animalistic purr. You looked down to his naked body, admiring his hardened erection that looked much too painful to keep unattended. Your skin warmed up in want and desire as you mumbled profanities. Damn he was good with his mouth, “Maijima, just shut up and fuck me.”

“I thought you’d never have the audacity to say it,” without missing a beat, he pulled your bottoms down with your panties, not giving a second thought to preparation when he saw how turned on you already were. You knew he wouldn’t give up the moment he got home, all your prior words of resistance were just banter. This was your relationship, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

He climbed back up, and you wrapped your trained, lithe legs around his lower back to avoid the fresh bandages. You stared into his piercing, bright eyes as he aligned himself with you. You wrapped your arms loosely around his neck, smirking at his deep blush. In all honesty, his switch nature was probably wanting you to take over, but his pride wouldn’t allow it.

“Shut up,” he thrust inside you, and your breath caught as you bit your lip. He paused, letting you take a second to adjust. When he started to pull back, he hummed in content, “Well isn’t that a pretty sight?”

“Head your own words, asshole,” your hands dropped to his chest, and he rolled his eyes as he started out slowly.

“Hey, that’s not what we agreed on, isn’t anal a weekends thing with us?” He tipped his head to the side, his hair falling onto your breasts. This caused you to snort, chuckling.

“I swear, I will get a strap on one of these days,” you leaned up, and he leaned down for you to kiss. Instead, you bit his cheek, sucking on the mark as his eyes widened, blush deepened, and a whimper escaped his lips. Damn you, damn you… he just couldn’t get enough of your tricks, gadgets and otherwise.

“In your dreams,” he was already panting from feebly struggling against you, and you pulled him down by the jaw for a quick, hard kiss.

“Harder, or I take over Mai,” You warned, and he blinked in surprise before realizing that he had slowed down to a snail’s pace. He quickly sped up, placing his elbows on the pillow on either side of your head. You moaned in satisfaction, each of his thrusts moving your hands and causing them to brush over his nipples, a small soft spot of his. You had wanted this to be quick, but now that he had started, his point was proven loud and clear; you definitely didn’t want this to stop.

The friction, the movement, every pant felt surreal as you grinded your hips into each of his thrusts. He was also conscious of your needs, propping himself differently every minute and shifting his hips until he found the perfect spot to have you screaming. He hadn’t intended on being so rough tonight, but things just happen, eh? When he began to ruthlessly plough you into the mattress, your soft touches became kitten scratches across his chest.

“F-Fuck… Maijima…” You muttered, your voice fading into a loud moan. He simply grunted in response, too focused to really reply. You loved every part of him, and as the knot inside the both of you grew, you let him know through broken words, “You’re so deep, shit, mmmm, right th-yes, please,” you both were a mess of tangled legs and lost glances. He occasionally locked eyes with you and gave you a quick kiss, but he liked to hide his face in your collarbone and suck on it to let himself focus, not unlike how he would suck on the end of pens while he worked on his costumes. It always left a nasty hickey.

When everything became too much, you warned him with a high-pitched sigh. He felt you tense around him, clenching around his length. He quickly finished himself, letting go of your collarbone to whisper, “So, are you going to take everything back, or?…”

“Fuck - fine, sure,” You mumbled angrily, wrapping your arms around his back. He pulled back to nuzzle into your cheek, then peck you with a victorious smile.

“Birth control?” You quickly leaned over to the nightstand, opening and pulling out the pills to take it. He chuckled, awkwardly waiting for you to finish. Your phone’s reminder had gone off a while ago, thank gods he had the memory of an elephant. On that note, his next words made you splutter even worse, “I think those wristbands are actually very pretty, you know.”

“If you’re looking for me to compliment-” You started, but he cut you off with a shake of his head as he pushed himself up and walked over to your dresser, grabbing a towel. You admired the view from the back, smiling unconsciously as things cooled down.

“No, listen, what if you made a whole suit? That would be hard, yes, but then we could match,” You hummed to yourself at his suggestion, mulling it over as he pulled on a pair of flimsy boxers, “Besides, you’re always hot in battle.”

“You still look like a block, but I guess our amazing suits could have great bionic sex,” You grinned, waiting for him to see your expression. He slowly turned to you, his face practically blue in horror.

“And this is why we aren’t married yet,” He whispered, causing you to laugh. Eventually he joined you; not only laughing, but in bed after changing the sheets.

[chezzkaa]

Numb pt 1

Click here for more Numb content OR JOIN THE NUMB DISCORD

Lumberjack AU

Pairing: Ryan Haywood x Reader

WC: 2500+

Relief comes in the form of a fresh pair of socks. After clomping into the lodge for what feels like the millionth time that day you kick off your boots; the old offending pair lying discarded after being immediately shed in favour of something far thicker and obnoxious with pompoms. Soggy and sad, you can see those left abandoned creating pools by the door over the top of the one mug you’d insisted on keeping unpacked for occasions such as these. You haven’t touched the sandwich, stale bread adorning the sodden cardboard the gas station had graciously wrapped it in, tomato looking suspiciously like sludge and avocado even more like something you’d find between bathroom tiles. It doesn’t bother you though, and it’s nothing a monumentally sweet cup of herbal tea can’t fix for the time being. You just needed to make it to dinner.

It’s through the steam that you smile; hope as warm as the fire roaring in the hearth, mood impervious to the dampness of falling snow. It encases the edges of the splintered window frames, closing in as it lines the sills and topples every now and again from the roof with a shudder. And though empty walls wait with bated breath, ready to bare the pride of their new owners, you can’t bring yourself to start unpacking. Empty cupboards beg to be filled, closets eager to be lined and bathrooms desperate to be stocked - all screaming for some form of progress despite knowing you intend on offering none. Not yet, anyway.

Crates are jammed in every free corner, staircase blocked with a barrage of suitcases while furniture is left littered with packages and the promise of a nap. Even the room you’ve claimed as your own, the largest in all respects and the one you rightfully deserve after picking up the keys and moving across the country early and alone; has only the bed made. And, if someone were to clamber over the mountain of belongings at the foot of the stairs and traipse through the hallway lined with linen, they’d see a wardrobe harbouring piles of clothes and a carpet fashioned into a maze of mismatched books and boxes.

But you’re too involved in the moment to worry about everything you need to do, enraptured in the peace of a promising beginning. A fresh start is just what you need. A new place in a new town where no one knows your name. Where memories can be buried in the snowfall, and a future career can be forged in tree trunks. Here, you’re Y/N, no more and no less. Y/N, a woman who really needs to get on with the rest of the evening.

A gentle sigh escapes into your mug, a soft hum that’s swallowed with the remains of your tea. Aching feet pad against the rich wooden panels lining the floor, slowly easing you into an evening free from the bustle of a choking city. Void of the demands of people, or the hollowness of a house you’d come to refuse as home. Another comfortable breath comes as a jumper is pulled over your head, fabric softly tugging against your skin like caressing fingers. Even your laces cause little trouble, boots done up in no time before you’re out the door, nose buried in the cream fluff of a scarf.

The crunch of fresh snow starts off your journey into the town centre of Motbury; leading you down the damp wooden steps and onto the small stone path tracing through your new garden, property lined with thick pine trunks and shivering greenery. Late afternoon sun rays drift lazily through the branches, dusting the world with a pleasant yellow glow you can’t help smiling into. A quick glance backwards says goodbye to the lodge and its characteristic grooves, to its tattered log exterior and triangular peaks, sharp supports and clusters of windows. To the stone columns you swear you’ll coat in fairy lights and markings, the wagon wheels you’re certain you’ll never get around to moving, and the mound of firewood stacked haphazardly against the side of your new home.

---

The first store you enter welcomes you with open arms and a comfortable heat, gentle jingles of the bell above the door seeing the man behind the cash register’s head lifting. He smiles through a dark beard flecked with greys, hair a mess with the numerous passes his tattooed fingers make across it. Still, the expression sees a face creased with age brighten, bearing the same cutting lines that accompany his front door. He greets you with a casual hello before returning his attention to the two figures in faded uniform on the opposite side of the checkout, nodding along to their stories.

From the back you can’t make out much besides their thick, fur trimmed coats and working boots - but the guns holstered to their sides tells you enough. The shorter of the two, of who is at least a head below the man on the right, runs a hand through brightly coloured hair, diffusing icy blues and mousey brown roots. The tension marrying between his broad shoulders explains the concern twitching restlessly in his fingers, nerves conducting the gentle incessant taps of his toes. Such apprehension is mirrored in the flash you catch of the other man’s expression; muted red curls trimmed neat, freckles splotching pale skin.

The pair hears your entrance, turning too late as you disappear into the aisles with a small cart, eyes intent on the slip of paper decorating your palm. Murmurs still snake across the floor, your back growing warm as their voices brush against it. Snippets of conversation follow; questions about family and comments about the upcoming forecast. A conversation that refuses to linger on the missing posters plastered to the windows, and a warning about getting the store secured before the raging weather hits. Boisterous laughter finally defrosts the room that’s slowly been icing over with their worries, and it joins the selection of bread you sift through, loaves and rolls scattered with seeds accompanying the vegetables you’ve collected on the journey through the store.

None of the other bodies in the cosy space seem to mind the presence of the police, all wearing gentle expressions and comfortable shoulders. It puts you at ease, the usual nagging concern that bounces in your chest at the sight of law enforcement ebbing away. From the corner of your eye the quirk of a tall man’s lips sees the pressure stringing down your neck thaw, close enough for you to hear him chuckling at the conversation overtaking the front of the store, his amusement tumbling into the butcher’s display. His head shakes within the palm his chin rests against, smile turning into a grin. Then a large, callous hand pushes back loose strands of sweeping sandy blonde, impatiently forcing red plaid sleeves back up to the crook of his elbows.

And then you see it, something that makes your heart leap and pulse race, breath catching with a stifled gasp - there’s a special on steak. You beeline for it, now close enough to feeling the man’s warm laughter caress your side. Gathering a few packages and dumping them into your cart, you return to the sausages, of which the blonde seems to be struggling with. He holds two varieties in his hands, glancing from one to the other, utterly perplexed. You can see the difficulty, considering the options before making a decision.

“Pork and sage are always a good choice,” you offer helpfully, reaching in front and collecting an identical pack to the one he’s debating.

“You couldn’t be more right,” he replies after a moment, turning his incredibly blue eyes to you. The twitch of his lips widens into a smile, discarding the losing flavour and placing the winner in his basket. “You’ve just made dinner a hell of a lot easier.”  

“Just doing my duty.”

“Your country thanks you,” he chuckles, and your stomach leaps.

Intending to respond with a witty remark you’re almost certain won’t be nearly as clever as you hope, the words die in your throat with the crash fracturing the air; as sudden as the tumble of cusses emanating from the front of the store. You both whip your attention to the shattering of glass and the fuming voice of the shopkeeper, frustration buried in another person’s giggles. “Oh c’mon, Jeremy! That’s the 2nd jar this week!”

“Shit,” responds the man you assume to be Jeremy with a groan, “I’m so sorry Geoff.”

“I should have you bloody arrested for this.”

“I could do it, Geoff,” interjects the taller man eagerly, giggles eventually subsiding. “Just say the words. Please. Ask me to arrest him. God damn it Geoff. This is all I’ve ever wanted. Please have me arrest Jeremy.” 

You can’t hold back the sniggers, joy dripping through the fingers you hide your lips behind. The stranger beside you joins in, shaking his grinning face yet again. Far taller than you, he stands on his tiptoes, peering over the shorter shelves. “There go the complimentary chocolates.” He rocks back on the balls of his feet, wincing. “Damn it. Geoff always has the one with little hazelnuts inside.”

“What a waste,” you gasp, hand clutching your scarf in an action he mirrors. “Does this happen often?”

He glances at you, surprised. It takes him a moment to realise that he doesn’t actually recognise you, having accepted your conversation and comfortability as a form of familiarity. “All the time. That pair make a mess everywhere they go. I’m sorry, I’m being rude. You’re new here?”

“Just moved in,” you reply, brushing away his disappointment in his manners, “I bought the lodge up the road.” You shake the hand he offers, dwarfed in his firm grasp. “I’m Y/N. Figured I’d collect some supplies before my roommates arrive.”

“Ryan.” He smiles, a lopsided, carefree expression that leaves him looking younger. “I’d tell you that you’d get used to them, but you really don’t. 2 years and the short one’s still a pain in my ass.” He laughs, warm and rich. “I don’t let him in the shop anymore, he’s always breaking stuff. But I won’t take up any more of your time.” He gives your trolley a pointed glance, assessing it’s contents and then your stature. “It looks like you’ve got a lot of hungry mouths to feed.”

You offer him a shrug, rather enjoying his company. “Not for a few more days. I moved in early to sort out some paperwork, pick up the keys and make sure everything’s set up. I’ll probably end up shopping again in a few more days. They’re animals.”

“The lodge, you said?” He’s quiet for a moment, thoughtful and tracing the paths he knows so well in his head. “The one on the outskirts, went extremely cheap?”

“Suspiciously cheap,” you correct.

“By the tree line?”

“That’s the one.”

He dives into his pocket while you’re speaking, sawdust trembling from the patches plastered against his pants. Rummaging around, he discards a number of crumbled receipts into his basket before pulling out a business card. “Here,” he insists, pressing the laminated piece into your expectant palm. “I run the local carpentry store; ‘Hay Woodworks’. A place like yours is gonna require some fixing up. We try to keep on top of the scratches around the doors and window frames - nah, don’t look so scared, it’s just animals trying to find shelter in the storms - but it’s always best to be safe. One good gust and the whole thing can cave, even with the newer buildings. I’d be happy to help out, even if it’s just to check the property out before the storms hit. I’ll sort you out with anything.”

Your eyebrow quirks, testing the waters with a timid snatch at opportunity. “What about a job?”

He considers this thoroughly, picking up one of your hands and studying it, folding it over in his own. Finally, he lets it drop, lips pursing to the side. “What’ve you worked with?”

“Mainly statement pieces and decorations,” you reply fondly, thumb tracing one of the many callouses that’d stained your hands years ago, skin tattered with scars. “But I’m good on a ladder. I used to work in my Granddad’s shop when I was younger and we’d go out and fix up houses. I haven’t carved in a while, but I’m all about new beginnings right now.”

He’s lips tug into a broad grin, welcoming and infectious. “I think I could find something for you to do. It’d be hard work, but swing by the shop tomorrow and we’ll see what you can do. I’ve got a couple of fix up jobs lined up for the coming few weeks, I could do with a hand once I know what you’re capable of.”

You’re beaming as you thank him, potential rushing through your mind with the excited shake of your hands. Eventually you pry yourself away with his insistence of having taken up too much of your time. Venturing further into the groceries, you throwing a few well-timed glances back at him, Ryan staring intently at his shoes before shaking himself, tearing away from your line of sight at the call of his name. During your interaction the commotion taking over the front of the store has died down, cheerful warmth still radiating in spite of the cold rattling against the exterior walls.

“Hold on, Michael,” comes a voice over the shelves a few minutes later as you’re leaning into the milk fridge, overwhelmed with the hum of freezer elements, unable to discern it’s familiarity, “I just want to check something first.”

“Go for it, J,” encourages Michael, hearing the bell jingle as he pushes open the door and says his goodbyes to Ryan, gusts of freezing wind playing with his curls. “I’ll be in the patrol car with my ass pressed to the heater.”

You pay the conversation no mind, finally having picked up enough produce to keep a small family fed for a week - or your roommates satiated for at least 3 days. Making your way to the checkout, the voice comes again, curious and careful. “Y/N?”

Spinning, you find yourself facing the small, bright officer, deep brown eyes widening in disbelieving joy. He’s stronger with your name this time, excited. “Y/N! Since when do you shop up in the mountains?”

“Jeremy,” you breath, shock coursing through your veins, “oh my god, is that really you?”

“Jesus,” he chuckles incredulously, both embracing for a long moment before he holds you out at arm’s length. He can’t quite comprehend your existence, drinking in the sight of his long lost friend. “It’s been, what, 2 years? How’ve you been?”

“Alright,” you admit rather hollowly, blinking a few times to stay on track. “What’re you doing here?”

“I work here now.” There’s pride in his voice, chest puffing up and finger jabbing the patch adoring his breast pocket, a similar one on his arm. “I was transferred here after we stopped working together, you’re looking at Motbury’s detective chief inspector.”

“You’re kidding.” You laugh, elated and vaguely aware of Ryan paying for his groceries, returning the wave he throws you from the door. Another billow of wind, ice nipping the tip of your nose. “You finally got your promotion.”

“You bet your ass I did, and a haircut.” His fingers skim the colour that’d made him so unrecognisable, and your heart feels instantly lighter.

“It looks great.”

[pennywaltzy]

The Prince Next Door (3 - 4/7 - A “The Hidden Royal Prince” Story)

So I know I should probably be posting three chapters of this tonight, but there are so few left I figured I’d do two and then drop down to one a day until it’s all up. Tomorrow will be the last of the old chapters and then the two new ones will go up. Hope you all enjoy (especially you, @greenskyoverme)!

The Prince Next Door - There’s something about the Vulcan who lives in apartment 2B, something Jim doesn’t find out until the Vulcan is attacked: he’s Prince S’chn T’gai, trying to hide from the planetary troubles on his home planet. But the man, who tells him to call him Spock, ends up becoming more important to him and in his world than he ever realized.

Read Chapter 1 | Read Chapter 3 | Read Chapter 4 | Series Page | Help Me Survive? | Commission Me?

Chapter 3 

Bones’s bar was a hole in the wall type place, the type that never had any advertising but was always full of people. It reminded him of that old Earth bar in the sitcom, the one that Ted Danson was in. It had its normal crowd of regulars, a few people who wandered in by accident, and then people who heard about the place from word of mouth. That was really the only way most people heard about the place; since there were no flashy signs advertising it outside and there were no neon-lit signs in the windows for the different brands of beers or liquor his place served, most people didn't even realize it was a bar. Add to it the fact the bouncers sat inside the door so you actually had to step inside to have your identification checked and for all someone knew it was a place that smelled like great food at almost all hours of the day.

It was just the way Bones liked it: low-key, low trouble, low hassle.

So Jim knew he was going to get an earful for bringing the half-human/half-Vulcan prince who was on the run from assassins to the bar to be kept safe and hidden and then bring his human mom along too for good measure. But there really wasn’t any other option; the complex wasn’t a safe place for Spock now and since he knew the truth he felt obligated to help. And Bones was the only person he knew who could do anything. He was going to catch hell, but Bones was a doctor once upon a time so if there was anyone who would feel just as strongly about keeping people safe and...well, alive, it would be Bones.

They’d gathered up what they needed most, which for Spock had been surprisingly little, and gotten a cab to the bar. Kirk had the feeling leaving his bike at the complex meant he probably wouldn’t see it again, but he supposed it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. He could get another one later, rebuild one, something like that. It wasn’t as though it was his dad’s bike; that was still in Iowa under the custody of his uncle. He’d rather have that but...hell, he’d left everything behind to make it on his own. He was just going to have to deal with never having that, never having real links to his past.

It seemed to take longer getting to the bar in a cab than it did on his bike, and when they got there Kirk motioned for Spock to go towards the alley entrance instead of the main entrance. They made their way there with Kirk looking every once in a while to make sure no cars had followed the cab or no people had taken an interest in the two of them that they shouldn’t. He had to do it while remaining inconspicuous, but apparently, they hadn’t been followed, so he allowed himself to relax just a little.

“Are we not permitted to use the main entrance?” Spock asked curiously.

“Around this time of day, Bones is making some hellish combination of southern food for his breakfast in his apartment. The people in the bar are the regulars who want to get shitfaced before noon. Bones won’t be tending bar to them. Nyota will be there because the regulars want the pretty face first thing in the morning.” Kirk nodded his head towards a set of stairs. “We go up the stairs, that’s where the living space is. There are four bedrooms, but Bones usually rents out three of them. Not that he needs to. He makes a pretty decent amount of money with the bar, even if it’s just a hole in the wall. The regulars pay a ton of money for peace and quiet and no hassle.”

“And you help provide that service?” Spock asked as they made their way to the stairs on the side of the building.

Kirk nodded. “I’ve had my share of arguments to break up, but I usually get out of most of them without blood being shed. At least inside the bar. Outside...that’s a different matter.” He got to the base of the stairs and then climbed them two at a time, almost bounding up them. When he got to the top he knocked on the door hard. “Bones! Need some rooms from you!”

It took a few minutes but by the time Spock joined him the door had swung open and a man in a blue button-down shirt with dark hair and a glare on his face was staring at them both. “Jesus, Jim, I’m going to burn my grits.”

“Look, I’ve got a situation,” Jim said.

Bones rolled his eyes. “Find out the last girl you slept with had a boyfriend?” he asked.

“Think interplanetary,” Jim said, pointing to Spock. “Meet my next door neighbor, the hidden prince of Vulcan.”

Bones looked from Jim to Spock and then sighed. “Shit.”

“Exactly. He was attacked because his guards turned on him, so he needs to hide somewhere else, and--”

“Hold it,” Bones said, holding up a hand. “You got yourself involved in an interplanetary dispute? Good God, Jim, can’t you get into normal trouble like a normal person?”

“You know me, Bones,” Jim said with a smirk. “Go big or go home.”

“Go home is right,” Bones muttered. “I should boot you both on a transport back to Iowa.” Then he shook his head and moved out of the way. “I am going to regret this, but come on in.”

“Thanks, Bones,” Jim said, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “Oh, and one more favor?”

“What, hide the King, too?” he asked in a sarcastic tone.

“Close. Queen,” Jim said.

“Of course,” Bones said. He looked up at the ceiling and shook his head. “Jim, if this all goes to Hell, I am personally taking it out of your hide. Got it?”

“Got it,” Jim said. He turned to Spock. “Let’s go grab rooms and then let’s figure out if your mom is okay and how to get her here.”

Spock nodded. “Very well.” He turned to Bones and nodded his head towards him. “You have my deepest thanks.” Bones grunted and shut the door behind them, heading back to the kitchen. Spock then turned to Jim, looking confused. “Have I offended him?”

“He’s just an old grump. I mean, not that old, but just...extra grumpy,” Jim said. “You get used to it.” He nodded towards the rooms. “Come on. We have plans to make.”

Chapter 4 

Bones left them to their own devices in figuring out which room was going to who. Jim thought Spock would take the largest of the three open rooms but he suggested that be his mother’s room when she joined them. He couldn’t really argue with that. He did insist Spock take the second largest room. Not that there was much difference, but it was next to the room his mother would take and he felt Spock would appreciate that.

Once their things were stowed away they went to the kitchen to join Bones. There were two plates laid out with food for them. One had all the fixings of a normal Bones breakfast, the other had grits and a bowl of strawberries next to it. Jim gave Bones a strange look and Bones shrugged. “Most Vulcans are vegetarians. Grits are made with hominy and water with a little butter, usually. I don’t have all that much vegetarian fare on hand but he can have the last of the strawberries.”

“Thank you,” Spock said. He took a spoonful of the grits and chewed it for a moment before swallowing. “This is most satisfactory.”

“It tastes better with cheese but I didn’t know how strict a vegetarian you might be,” Bones said.

“I am not as strict as most Vulcans, as I am half-human,” Spock said. “I will eat meat substitutes and dairy products.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Bones said with a nod. “I know Knucklehead here goes through a gallon of milk every couple of days. So share, Jim.”

Jim rolled his eyes and began digging into his food. “Hey, I pay you back.”

“With low-fat crap instead of whole milk,” Bones grumbled. “Health consciousness should not extend to milk.”

“You used to be a doctor,” Jim said. “Shouldn’t you be pushing that?”

“Hey, fat people aren’t necessarily unhealthy,” Bones said. “And skinny people aren’t necessarily healthy. Why do you think I was a popular doctor? I didn’t buy into that skinny fad shit from hundreds of years ago.”

Spock looked at Bones. “Is that how you knew of my dietary preferences?”

Boned nodded towards the outside of his window. “With the Starfleet Academy so close, it helped to learn as much as I could about alien species. I would help out at the Academy clinic sometimes when they didn’t have enough doctors in their program. You get people who want to travel the stars and all, but getting doctors away from cushy assignments to keep those idiots safe while they’re in space? Easier said than done. No doctor in their right mind wants to be subjected to a million space diseases when they can have a nice place on Earth.”

“But you’re damn good at it,” Jim said.

“Damn good,” Bones said, nodding slowly. “I just got tired of the pro-human contingent. When the hospital I was working at wanted me to stop working at the clinic and stop treating aliens, I gave up. What’s the point of exploring the damn universe if you think humans should be the only ones treated on Earth? It’s stupid. Those crazies are going to cause serious problems one day.” He paused. “I could have gone into the Academy as a student, maybe even taught there for all I know, but I just decided hell with it, it’s time to get out.”

“I did not realize there was a contingent of this community that was anti-alien,” Spock said.

“You’re human passing. You’d probably be fine if you weren’t a freaking hidden prince. I mean, cover up your ears, who can really tell?” Bones said. “Which reminds me. What are you two planning to do? Hide out here for a while with the Queen? Then go back to Vulcan and...what, exactly?”

Spock shook his head. “Rightfully my father should lead the people of Vulcan, as he is next in line for succession. I think he wants to abolish the aristocracy and replace it with a democratic system, but I am not privy to his plans.”

“Typical father,” Bones said in a huff. “You’re the prince, whether your people like it or not. At least you should know whatever the hell he’s planning.”

“When is the last time you spoke to him?” Jim asked, interrupting Bones' tirade.

“When I arrived in San Francisco,” Spock said. “Our conversations were brief, however, and mostly concerned my mother.”

“Does your dad not like you or something?” Jim asked.

“Jesus, Jim,” Bones said, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. “Don’t ask questions like that.”

“Well, it’s a pertinent question,” Jim said.

“He is not fond of me as I have had...ideas...he does not agree with,” Spock said slowly. “While he loves a human woman, he does not seem to know how to love a half-human son.” He went back to his food. “Though if his plan is to change the political ruling nature of Vulcan to a democracy, that is not something I oppose. I have no interest in politics.”

“What are you interested in?” Bones asked.

“Science,” Spock replied. “It has been a passion for many years, to use human terminology.”

“Is that why you’re here in San Francisco?” Jim asked before having more of his food. “To be near Starfleet Academy?”

“My father would never let me enter,” Spock said. “Though he has different opinions on Vulcan society than most, he would not be so lenient to let me do anything other than entering university-level classes on Vulcan. Therefore, my education will be postponed until the matter is settled.”

Jim opened his mouth to reply but Bones glared and he shut it. He wondered what would happen if the matter was never settled and the planet was stuck in an ongoing civil war because it seemed like bullshit that Spock couldn’t go to a university somewhere, and Starfleet was the best option. That’s what he was trying for, at any rate. His ultimate goal was to get up into space and explore. Maybe even captain his own ship someday. It wasn’t fair that Spock couldn’t have his dreams too.

Maybe he’d figure out a way they could both be happy and keep his identity secret...

[bluboothalassophile]

Blu, i love your stories with Lucifer and Rae, they're really fun! can i request more of those? like a little tour to show the city to Rae, and some Chloe & Trixie or someone else participation (as cameo), or something alike? Because of your job, I understand, I'll wait when it is good moment for you, everything for your stories *smiles*

Hello,

Alright, going to be completely honest, I don’t know L.A. well enough to write a ‘tour fic’ on it, and rather than bullshitting my way through it I decided to take the slightly easier route. So I hope you enjoy the story all the same!

Trixie, Not a Striper!

Raven stood there wondering what idiotic idea had mad herthink to come here. Or what move her grandfather had pulled on her to agree tothis little catch up, to discuss a particularly nagging problem she had andhadn’t wanted to discuss over the phone with him. Either way, Raven wasbefuddled as she stood outside of Lux, glaring up at the offending sign and contemplatingthe fastest routes to Gotham or Hell; though both were pretty much one in thesame at times.

“What are you doing out here?” a sharp tone demanded whichhad Raven’s head turning to look at who the young voice belonged too. She foundherself looking at a young girl with brunette curls.

“I’m here to meet up with my grandfather, you?” Raven asked.

“My dad forgot to pick me up, again, Lucifer’s job iscloser,” Trixie shrugged.

“You shouldn’t be out walking on your own,” Raven pointedout.

“Well my dad shouldn’t have forgotten to pick me up,” Trixiehaughtily stated.

“Fair point.”

“I’m Trixie, not a striper,” the young girl stated.

“Raven,” she answered as she gave up and walked into theclub after the little girl.

“That’s a nice name,” she decided.

“Thanks, yours’ is a nice name too,” Raven replied.

“Who’s your grandfather and why would he make you meet himat Lux?” Trixie asked.

“Well, for one thing he owns it,” Raven stated coolly.

“Ah, Raven! And Trixie, my favorite human,” Luciferappeared, Raven turned in time to find herself engulfed in a hug before hergrandfather was kissing her cheeks as he pulled away.

“Oh my, you are thin, have you not been eating enough?”Lucifer demanded examining her.

“You know Lucifer!?” Trixie balked.

“Ah, Trix, this is my granddaughter, Raven, Raven, meet thedetective’s charming offspring, Trixie, she knows about angels and demons,”Lucifer smiled fondly at the human and Raven chuckled.

“I met her outside, just now, her father forgot to pick herup,” Raven said.

“Well, that is a crime Trix, next time call, I’ll comecollect you myself,” Lucifer stated firmly. “Now that both my girls are here,how about we call Aunty Maze and Linda and have them meet us at Huntington Beachfor an evening of food, surf and beach,” he smiled.

“I’m actually,” Raven started, she was here for a reason.

“YES!!!!!!” Trixie shouted.

“Come along Raven, you must tell me all about your gentlemancaller,” Lucifer decided.

“Well, that’s actually why I’m here,” Raven said.

“It is!? Oh, excellent,” Lucifer smiled as Trixie joggedahead to the car.

“He’s been really weird since I started going on dates, Iwas wondering if you knew what that was about.” Raven admitted. Her dates withJoseph Wilson weren’t a secret, but since the start of these harmless dates, Jasonhad started acting really, really, really weird. Even Ivy, and Harley agreedwith her assessment of Jason being weird. Not jealous or something, justdistant, like he was avoiding her.

“Are you not going on these dates with your gentlemanfriend?” Lucifer sputtered.

“No, I’m not really Jason’s type. I’ve had a few dates withJoseph Wilson,” Raven stated as she slid into the car.

“Who’s Joseph, and who’s Jason?” Trixie asked sitting upbetween them.

“Jason is Raven’s not boyfriend, boyfriend,” Luciferanswered.

“Jason’s not my boyfriend,” Raven stated flatly.

“As you can see, Trix, the largest case of denial there nextto your mother’s belief in moi,” Lucifer shook his head.

“No seriously, Jason and I aren’t in denial, I’m not Jason’stype, and he wouldn’t want to date me.” Raven was beginning to think she shouldhave just stuck to talking to Harley about this problem; Harley was the shrinkafter all.

“Denial,” Lucifer and Trixie rang out in unison.

Raven groaned as she turned to glare out the window. Sheknew coming to L.A. for answers was a bad idea!

“So who is this Joseph Wilson, and why is he bewitching mygranddaughter from her gentleman friend?”

“Joe is a friend, and he’s been very nice on our dates. Anyway,he’s not interested in me, at least, not that way,” Raven dismissed.

“How could he not be?”

“He was checking out the waiter.”

“That proves nothing.”

“The waiter is a guy.”

“He could be bi!” Trixie giggled then.

“Possibly,” Raven shrugged. She didn’t think things with herand Jeri were ever going to get physical. But the dates were nice, no one hadever taken her on dates; real dates, and they were nice. “Anyways, Jason’s beenreally distant about all of it, and I’m starting to think he’s avoiding me. Iwas hoping you could give me advice on fixing this thing between him and I.”

“My dear, Gem, just ask him out.”

“He’s not interested in me, and he’s my best friend!” Ravensnapped; again. Every time! Luci was annoying about this.

“Sounds like Jason likes you,” Trixie giggled.

“Best. Friend.” Raven grounded out.

They had been best friends for forever, it wasn’t going tochange. Besides, she was so not Jason’s type.

“Denial,” Lucifer and Trixie sang.

“You’re useless, and I didn’t ask for shorty’s opinion.”

“She sounds like Maze!” Trixie whispered loudly.

“Raven’s also a demon, the most powerful demon in currentexistence, the Gem of Scath.”

“should you be telling her that?”

“Oh, I know ALL about the angels and the demons!” Trixiesmiled.

“Uh-huh,” Raven looked the kid over carefully then.

“And if you don’t believe me Raven, by all means, call daddyConstantine. The exorcist might provide more insight.”

“I don’t think so, and he’s not my dad.”

“He adopted you, love, he’s family.”

“I never said he wasn’t family.”

“Rae, darling, he adopted you, legally, filed papers andeverything, you can even ask your gentleman friend’s father about this,”Lucifer smiled.

“Dads are awesome, I wish Lucifer was my dad,” Trixiegrinned.

“Speaking of that, we will be calling Dan and the detective,”Lucifer grimaced.

“Fine,” Trixie rolled her eyes.

“How’s Linda doing?” Raven asked.

“Well,” Lucifer answered.

“That’s good,” Raven said. Perhaps Linda could help her withher problem.

“I vote we go surfing first!” Trixie announced sitting forward.

“I’m with the kid,” Raven replied.

Why did she come to L.A. again? Lucifer was useless in thematters of her love life; and always shoving her at Jason.

[holmesoverture]

The Telegraph Boy, Chapter 4

*Warning for this chapter: discussion of underage prostitution, though according to the laws of the time the people in question were not considered underage.  Also, Watson may come off as a bit judgey about the whole thing, depending on how you interpret his reaction.

Chapter 1 Be Here Chapter 3 Be Here

We took our leave of Shrewsbury House and the furiously mumbling inspector, I suspect, not an instant too soon.  Had we dared remain, eventually we should have run short of people for Holmes to offend. He hailed a cab at the corner and instructed the driver to take us to Baker Street by way of Cleveland Street, Fitzrovia.

“That’s hardly the most direct route.  Why is it important we go by Cleveland Street?” I asked once we had started moving.

“I thought it might interest you to see the scene of the crime.”

“Have we not already done that?”

“We have seen a crime scene, yes, but this case involves two of them.  You have seen if not thoroughly understood the second, now you will see the first.”

He did so enjoy his little games and secrets, and as I was by his own admission the only person he is close to, I more often than not found myself indulging them rather than insisting he get on with it. I’m sure I don’t know why.  It is not as though he is a desperately lonely soul in need of a sympathetic ear.  On the contrary, he has always been more than satisfied to keep to himself and let the rest of humanity alone when he is not working either for or against them. Yet still I refused to verbalise any sentiment that could be construed by him as the least bit discouraging, so we sat in warm silence until Holmes grabbed my wrist and pointed through the window of the cab.

“You see that building there?” he asked.

“Yes.”  It was a perfectly average-looking four-storey brown brick townhouse.

“It is maintained by one Charles Hammond. You don’t recognise the name?  I didn’t think you would.  Mr Hammond runs a brothel from that very building.  Every one of the boys employed here was recruited from the General Post Office on St Martin’s-Le-Grand, including our friend Farrier.  This is the true source of the payment he offered us this morning.”

The moment the word brothel crossed his lips, my stomach gave a sick sort of lurch, and by the time he’d finished his declaration, it was all I could do to keep my mouth from falling open.  The only clear thought in my head was that of Alfred Farrier and his handful of shillings, an image which made far more sense now that I’d been made aware of that horrible place.

“When did you learn of this?” I said finally, and for the first time not looking forward to his elucidation in the slightest.

“I first suspected its existence several months ago.  Everything I have witnessed since then has only served to confirm my suspicions.”

“You have known of this atrocity for months and done nothing?”

“What would you have had me do?”

“Contact the authorities and shutter that abominable place, of course!”

“To what end?  To deprive the boys’ families of the income generated by their activities? To condemn these most innocent of criminals to hard labour in the short term and to disgrace in the long term? Your capacity for cruelty staggers me, Watson, truly.”

He spoke in his usual careless tone, but I should not have been more astonished had he taken his stick and beaten me about the head and shoulders.

“You mean to say you approve of such establishments?” I said, weakly.

“I neither approve nor disapprove.  You know quite well that my interests extend only as far as they must to clear dangerous criminals from the streets and no further, and it seems to me that London as a whole would greatly benefit if Scotland Yard were to follow my example rather than chase after those trying to earn a meagre living.”

This was a half-truth at best.  He knew it, and he knew also that I knew it, but the both of us retreated to our own thoughts as we rattled away from that house of ill-fame.  More than once in my published accounts of our adventures, I have described Holmes as an automaton, as inhuman, as a machine.  This is as much due to my companion’s intervention as to my editor’s. It is a canted reflection of the true Holmes, one he has always fervently worked to change his own nature to match. He imagines his life and his work would be interminably simpler if he really were that unfeeling uncaring being of pure logic.  Knowing Holmes, he is most likely correct.

But alas, for all his powers of observation and self-control, he is human yet and possesses many, though not all, of the same compulsions and temptations as other members of the species.  Perhaps, in some future work, I shall be able to slip in some reference to Holmes’ acute case of humanity, but at that time, my mind was occupied by the fact that he had somehow cast me as the primary villain in this affair.  I refused to abide such a position and prepared an argument with which to defend myself, but by then we had arrived safely at Baker Street and the opportunity to converse had slipped my grasp.

“Here we are,” said Holmes.  “I wish you a peaceful rest, and when I return I will provide you with every point and detail so you will not suffer your notes to remain incomplete.”

“You are not coming in with me?”

“No, I have very important business to tend to elsewhere.”

“Then if it will not impede your work, I am coming with you,” said I, regaining my seat in the cab.

“But you are tired.”    

“That is so, but the train comes nowhere near my list of the least comfortable places in which I have slept.”

“Then I should be very glad to have you along. We must stop briefly at the telegraph office and then we are off to Gravesend.”

After working so closely with Sherlock Holmes for so many years, I have become acclimated to the sensation of having no earthly idea of what is going on.  This enabled me to very patiently wait until we had boarded the train before inquiring as to why we were there.

“You mean why are we going to Gravesend?  It’s quite simple.  We go to Gravesend because that is where we shall find Lord Walmsley.”

“Should we not be going after Sally Farrier instead?”

“Not unless and until we have proof that a crime has actually been perpetrated.  Lady Walmsley made it clear that the strong-box belongs to her husband and no one else, so we must hear from him that something has been taken and, if so, if he desires to pursue the matter.”

“I suppose it would be foolish of me to ask how you know Lord Walmsley is in Gravesend.”

Holmes fixed me with a look I can only describe as indulgent.  “It could not have been more apparent had Lord Walmsley written Gravesend upon the carpet and all four walls of his study. Still, I will confine myself to the more obvious clues.  A bundle of this stationery was kept in the upper right-hand corner of the desk drawer. As most men are right-handed, they tend to store more frequently used items to their right side where they are more easily retrieved, so I knew the stationery was of some importance.”

He handed me a piece of blank paper.  It felt thick and heavy and therefore costly. Holmes indicated the insignia at the top, which depicted a right-facing profile of a bearded man superimposed over three diagonal lightning bolts.

“That is the emblem of the Jupiter Club, a gentlemen’s club in Gravesend devoted to the study and appreciation of classical Greek and Roman literature,” he said.  “There were fragments of this same stationery in the study fireplace.  They were in poor condition, but enough of the handwriting remained intact to tell me that it did not match the abundant examples of Lord Walmsley’s handwriting available in the papers upon his desk, so it must therefore belong to another who had access to identical stationery—in other words, to another member of the Jupiter Club.  The proliferation of this stationery in Lord Walmsley’s office, as well as the fact that he saw fit to burn all correspondence written upon it, indicates a strong and at least partially illicit connection to Gravesend, and most particularly to that club.”

“Is that where Lord Walmsley has gone?  The Jupiter Club?”

“If he has, his faith in his fellow bibliophiles far outweighs his common sense.  No matter how active a gentleman is within his club, it is highly doubtful he would be sufficiently well-acquainted with all of its members that he would feel secure in entrusting them with the sort of secrets Lord Walmsley has been keeping.  No, rather than at the Jupiter Club, we shall find him at the Kendall Estate, home of Lord Reuben Kendall, preeminent citizen of Gravesend and renowned collector of Greco-Roman literature.  You may have seen an item or two about him in the paper.  He recently inherited from his late father the largest cement factory in Kent.”

“Would Lord Kendall be the author of those letter fragments in the fireplace?”

“He would.  The initials RK were inscribed in at least two of the books on Lord Walmsley’s shelves, the result either of gifts or of loans.  One particularly indiscreet tome was inscribed with the words ‘To S with all my love, R.’”

“The S referring to Septimus Walmsley and the R referring to Reuben Kendall.”

“And that, you see, is why we are here.”

The majority of this explanation could not penetrate the hazy walls erected by my weariness, and I only recall it now because Holmes repeated it to me once he closed the case.  At the time, however, he simply reached over to cover the top half of my face with his long thin hand, forcing my eyes to close.

“You may rest now, my Boswell.  Nothing of consequence will occur until we reach Gravesend.”

“Nothing of consequence?” I repeated, eyes still closed.

“Well there is a Scottish greengrocer behind us who is about to discover he is no longer in possession of his watch, which will cause the thief, the sea captain’s daughter seated across from him, to lose her nerve and slip it into the pocket of the dentist to her left just as he reaches into that selfsame pocket for his handkerchief in an effort to alleviate the malingering symptoms of his cold.  Their hands will meet, the ensuing commotion will attract the porter, and he will return the watch to its owner while she is escorted off the train in tears.  As I said, nothing of consequence.”

*

Chapter 5 Be Here

*

Notes of Interest

The only person he is close to – This is in reference to a line from Arthur Conan Doyle’s story The Five Orange Pips, wherein Watson asks if one of Holmes’ friends might be dropping by for a visit and Holmes responds, “Except yourself I have none.”

[yoi-secret-valentines2017]

The Chalice

For @kingyuuri!

It was a great thing Mari was the first in line for succession. She would, one day, be a competent, pragmatic ruler. The people liked her. She wouldn’t go looking for trouble with other realms nor would she allow Hasetsu to fall from it’s glory. Yes, she’d be great at it.

Also, this way, Yuuri could live a calm, peaceful life as the second son and prince of the crown without the overwhelming pressure of having to be the one responsible for everybody else’s well being.

Not that he didn’t care about their people’s well being, it was just that there were other things he could do to serve his kingdom, things he was more competent at.

Yuuri had travelled as far as ships could take him as an emissary, getting to know many foreign places and people, establishing both political alliances and commercial agreements, befriending a number of other princes and princesses and emissaries around the globe. His family valued his work and he was content.

Rarely did he manage to spend enough time home with his family, a fact he regretted sometimes. Just that night, though, he would prefer to stay put in his chambers than attending the feast with his parents.

Every year, a grand feast was held, open for every resident and visitor of Hasetsu, to celebrate the Old Alliance, the agreement that had, many centuries before, ended the war between Hasetsu and the Old Realms, and started the Long Peace. Few of those realms existed nowadays, but the tradition remained, and people still came from many places to attend. On that day, noblemen and peasants shared the same food, sat at the same tables and danced to the same music.

The only problem was that the last time Yuuri had been among such a huge amount of people, he had been utterly humiliated.

After many months of negotiation, he had travelled to great kingdom of Sochi to seal a deal that would have been highly profitable for both parts; Sochi possessed an extensive territory vastly covered by forests. Hasetsu was small and needed the wood to build more ships. They had been willing to pay highly for it, and also benefit Soch in any future commercial dealings, and things had been working out great until Yuuri ruined it.

He had not been used to the strong, clear liquor served in the banquet that had been organized in his honor. Intoxicated with it, Yuuri had made a fool of himself, spoken without thinking, managed to offend the queen and pour his wine on the princess dress. The entire hall had laughed and mocked him, and he had sailed the very next day, deal now off the table. Ever since, he had avoided big crowds, always fearful someone around him would have been at the banquet, or heard of it.

Mari was having none of his excuses.

“Mother and Father will be disappointed if you’re not there, Yuuri. And the people want to see you. You have hidden yourself in this castle long enough.”

“I don’t think anybody wants to see me after what happened last year,” Yuuri said, staring at the sunset.

“Of course they do,” his sister said, firmly, “no one is holding that against you.” She came to stand by him on the balcony. “Besides, the feast will be particularly good this year. We have many performers visiting, those singers and dancers you love.”

“I’ve seen plenty of dancers when I was away,” Yuuri mumbled, though a part of him couldn’t help wondering if these dancer were any good.

“And if I remember correctly, you never minded seeing the same song being presented even a dozen of times.”

He said nothing, and so she sighed and ruffled his hair, before saying in a tone that was half frustration, half concern:

“Let it go, Yuuri. Everyone else has.”

Darkness fell around him as he reflected. He didn’t want to disappoint  everyone further. Certainly, there would be people in the feast who had witnessed the disaster of Sochi. He’d have to face them eventually. It was time.

Taking a long, deep breath, he directed himself to the baths.

* * *

Arming tables filled the the view for as far as Yuuri’s eyes could reach. Traditionally, the feast was held in the port, a reminder of the first time a king of Hasetsu had shared food with a foreign captain, right there on the pier, thus sealing the first agreement of piece. The feast spread out from the port and took up most of the bay, including nearby squares and the largest streets. Everyone used their most elegant clothes and colorful accessories.

Yuuri was no exception. He wore dark charcoal velvet decorated with opals and pearls, and his sister looked beautiful in her carmine attire. Their parents shone in matching silver, like beacons among the people.

After the customary speech welcoming all to the annual Feast of Friendship was made, Yuuri felt much more relaxed. Mari had been right, it was time to move on. So far every single person that had passed him by had been respectful and friendly. If anybody was thinking of his failure, they had kept it to themselves. One of his oldest friends, Minako, sat by his side and talked to him throughout dinner, distracting him and reminding him that, although he loved the life of a traveller, home was still his favorite place to be.

A couple of hours had passed when he appeared. The performers Mari had mentioned in the afternoon made a colorful, flamboyant group. They were travelling artists, traipsing from place to place with no fixed home, used to perform for both kings and farmers, seeking audience wherever they could.

There were musicians and dancers, and as they positioned themselves right in front of Yuuri’s table, he saw in the middle of them a man who moved as softly and as fluidly as a column of smoke swirling in the wind. As the players told a story with their fingers, so did he illustrated it with his whole body. His eyes were closed as he danced, and his hair was as fair as molten silver falling down to his waist, a beautiful contrast to his silky purple attire, which flowed with every move of his body. When he opened his eyes, they were of the most striking blue Yuuri had ever seen. The man stared straight at Yuuri. Without breaking eye contact, he smirked and blew him a kiss.

Yuuri’s stomach sank.

This man. Yuuri had met him before. At the banquet, at the banquet in Sochi, he had seen him dancing. All of his memories from that night were covered with fog, but there was no mistaking the sway of his hips or the blue of his eyes.

Yuuri looked around, but he was alone. His parents had long gone to talk and mingle with the guests of the feast, and Minako was nowhere to be found. Mari still sat a couple of chairs away, but Yuuri couldn’t call her attention without interrupting her conversation and calling everyone’s attention as well.

He felt hot in his fancy robes, glued to his chair by this stranger’s mesmerizing eyes. Whenever he turned around or moved away, it was only to look right back at Yuuri a few moments later. It was hypnotizing. It was terrifying.

Who was he, why was he here? Had he come all the way to Hasetsu just to remind Yuuri of the banquete, to mock him?

Or to tempt him?

Regardless of what his intentions were, Yuuri couldn’t look away. The way his body spinned, the way his arms were lifted, complementing every move, it was like nothing Yuuri had ever seen before. He almost wanted to get up and joined him, become a part of his dance, a part of his being.

Afterwards, Yuuri couldn’t have told how long did the fair haired man danced for him. He would have placed his guess at at least a few eternities, but when the music ended, the feast was still taking place, people were still eating and drinking and talking merrily as if the most formidable expression of beauty hadn’t just happened right in front of their eyes. The world felt somewhat less now that it was over.

Yuuri felt a short sense of relief followed by an unexplainable pang of pain when the stranger made an exaggerated bow and swiftly walked away with the rest of his group. Yuuri was still too numb to applaud when he was swallowed by the crowd.

Other dancers came, and Minako returned, but Yuuri found he couldn’t concentrate anymore. His heart pounded in his chest, and he excused himself to go for a walk.

Many people greeted him, and in his distraction, he couldn’t even find it in himself to be anxious. He talked to residents and visitors, friends and people he barely knew, and Mari smiled encouraging to him when they crossed ways, but of the mysterious dancer that had him enchanted, there was no sign.

In the end, he walked to the very end of the area prepared for the feast, where the tables were mostly empty, it’s occupants having gone home or moved closer to the performers. An old couple lingered around, holding hands and conversing in low tones. Yuuri greeted them, but stood aside, staring at the horizon, lost in his own thoughts.

A soft touch to his elbow startled him back into reality. Before he looked up, he knew it would be him. He could feel it like a fragrance in the air, like a tingle in his skin. He looked up to the man’s eyes, even clearer in the moonlight, and said nothing. All tension he had felt before that moment seemed to flee his body, leaving something strange, akin to longing, in it’s stead. The man in front of him had a much more solemn expression than when he had been dancing.

“I was beginning to fear you had disappeared once again,” he said to Yuuri in a deep voice, soft as velvet.

“I am right here.”

“You are.” The intensity with which he was being staring at should have been unsettling. Yuuri looked down to the chalice the man held close to his chest. The man raised it, uncertainty flashing in his eyes.

“I was told that on this night, even a king shares his drink with a pirate.”

His words hung between them. Yuuri considered saying he was no king. Would never be a king. He considered saying that the other man was no pirate either. But he just closed his fingers around the other’s and brought the chalice to his lips, taking a long sip. Then he relaxed his grip, but didn’t let go as the man took it to his own lips, eyes locked with Yuuri’s.  The breeze danced in his hair, and Yuuri could feel it brushing the back of his hand.

“Who are you?” Yuuri asked in a whisper, wondering if the other man could feel the warmth of his breath against his skin.

“My name is Viktor. I have come to find you.”

“Viktor.” Yuuri let the name roll in his tongue, tasting it. “Why?”

He shuddered before answering.

“I saw you in Sochi. I would be content if you allowed me to stay here, and to entertain you, and to look at you.”

Never had Yuuri seen anything as beautiful as the tremble of Viktor’s lips as they delivered their words. Yuuri’s fingers searched for those that weren’t still holding the empty glass, and planted a soft kiss to the knuckles, listening as Viktor’s breathing hitched.

“Is that all that you desire?” he asked, the steadiness of his voice surprising himself. Viktor’s hand was hot in Yuuri’s. He didn’t want to let go of it.

“It is… all that a wanderer with nothing to his name would dare to ask.”

They were silent for a few minutes. Yuuri didn’t know whether the old couple was still around. All he could hear was the distant sound of the feast, the coming and going of the waves and the thud of his heart.

“Perhaps a prince might dare to offer more.”

Viktor looked at him with wide eyes.

“But… your kingdom,” he stuttered, “Your family… How…?”

“Shhhh.” Yuuri pulled Viktor closer by the hand and was surprised when the man fully embraced him, but he found he didn’t mind. “Don’t worry about that. It’s not a problem.”

“I have waited for so long,” Viktor’s words were quiet under Yuuri’s ear, sounding like a confession. “I’ve never imagined this could be possible… I should have come sooner.”

Yuuri moved his hands to encircle the other’s waist tentatively.

“You’re here now.”

Viktor’s voice was like a prayer as he said, fervently:

“I am.”