#damnit I was prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt

[willievermakeithome]

Oh FUCK OFF TAE SU-MI

[tanoraqui]

AU: Hányǐng-jūn

(”Shadowbearing Lord”, translation by @lyratalus)

(see, this is my problem. I decide, “yes, damnit, I AM going to write this longfic!” and then 0.0003 seconds later I’m absolutely swarmed by other plot bunnies.)

anyway, Yiling Patriarch!Lan Wangji but, like...better

Lan Wangji gets out of seclusion and 3 days later takes a mostly sleeping Lan Yuan, a couple days' worth of provisions, and leaves for Yiling. Lan Xichen somehow catches him just outside of Cloud Recesses and LWJ freely admits that he's going to Yiling - the city, not the Burial Mounds themselves - and he's going to raise A-Yuan there and cleanse the Burial Mounds like Wei Wuxian was starting to do with the life he brought back to them

Lan Xichen lets him go, doesn't even bother to play the "shouldn't A-Yuan grow up somewhere healthier and wealthier" card, bc a) cheap shot, b) he knows Wangji has already thought of it (he's right), and c) this is doing NOTHING to convince him that his brother won't commit some sort of passive suicide if he doesn't get to keep that child. God damn, he thought they were over this phase of mourning but Apparently Not

so Lan Wangji gets a house in Yiling, has to deal with 50 tons of gossip - of a new variety; he's used to political gossip and "isn't he hot" gossip but wow he was not prepared for small town "ooh new hot single dad" gossip with a side order of random advice from elderly women about how to care for a six-year-old

(he is, in fact, very grateful for the advice)

(there is no way in hell that Lan Wangji knows how to be the sole provider for a six-year-old)

in the internal war between "do not let A-Yuan out of my sight" and "do not take the vulnerable child to the death mountain", I think the former wins, considering the small child already lived on the death mountain for about a year, and seemed fine except for malnutrition. Which was...well, yes it was a problem with the death mountain, but not directly. Lan Wangji has money and they live in town and commute to the Burial Mounds each day for LWJ to play Cleansing while A-Yuan runs around catching imaginary butterflies or practicing reading; it's fine

...though possibly the nosy grannies convince him to get a babysitter

and maybe to take a break?

oh no i would want so many OCs of just Lan Wangji's neighbors in this

anyway, it doesn't take long for it to become clear that even playing Cleansing all day every day is like being a bird scraping its beak once a millennia on a mountain. Sure it works, technically, but...not really. Frankly, the resentful energy grows back if he stops for a single day. And even Hanguang-jun only has so much power and endurance

he's going to have to handle the resentful energy himself. If he wants to do this, wants to leave some sort of positive legacy for Wei Wuxian, he's going to have to demonically cultivate himself. Siphon the stuff off, and do...something with it. It won't just vanish. Subdue corpses and monsters, probably? Go back to night-hunting?

I dunno how or how fast word gets out, but I guarantee you Jiang Cheng is the first person of note to hear about it and come furiously flying. The fight that follows is raw and possibly literally bloody, and 99.99% about Wei Wuxian (of course.) I think the only reason it stops is that even though they took it outside, A-Yuan wakes up (as does most of the neighborhood) and pokes his head out the window to ask what's going on, and Jiang Cheng puts two and two together with the kid he saw when he visited to disown Wei Wuxian and- 

He can't quite bear to destroy something even halfway adjacent to family He wants Wei Wuxian to have a slightly good legacy, too He storms off.

the only reason he doesn't pass Lan Xichen in the air is that they aren't quite coming from the same direction. This night is becoming very long but Lan Wangji is happy to explain himself to his brother: the careful methods he's started to use, never very much resentful energy at once, and the careful checks he has on himself, meditation and Cleansing and purification rituals. Lan Xichen isn't happy, but he has to concede that it all seems sound, and the goal is certainly a righteous one, and...there are worse ways to mourn

so when an emergency sect leader cultivation conference is called, because the news that Hanguang-jun has not only moved to Yiling but started practicing demonic cultivation has spread like wildfire, Lan Xichen calmly stands forward and defends his brother, states that Lan Wangji is working on noble goals with careful precautions and the full support of GusuLan, he can confirm it himself as Sect Leader but of course any who wish are welcome to visit Yiling as well and judge Hanguang-jun's precautions for themselves.

I cannot put in words how close Jiang Cheng comes to punching him in the face

So that’s what happens: people visit, see what careful measures Lan Wangji has in place, and are convinc- ha ha lol no it’s politics. But it works out. i wish I could say that it's some sort of tie between who Jiang Cheng hates most: Wei Wuxian for everything, but particularly for not even bothering to try to make it safe like LWJ clearly is; Lan Wangji for thinking he can just get away with this shit; Lan Xichen for helping him do it; everyone else for going along with it when they couldn't give Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng and YunmengJiang a single shred of goodwill; or himself for not standing up for either Wei Wuxian (a la Lan Wangji, however post-mortem)/his brother (like LXC)

but we all know it's nowhere near a tie

so...Lan Wangji doesn't plan to teach Lan Yuan (he's still a Lan! They're both still Lans!) any sort of demonic cultivation, but no matter what he does there's still So Much Dangerous Stuff around here, and they have no backup nearby, and demonic cultivation is just so much easier for those without a well-developed golden core yet -

so he teaches him, you know, some basic chords to make a ghost or corpse go the fuck away

(to start)

UNFORTUNATELY I'm pretty sure the timing is such that the Yi City Affair happened mostly while LWJ was in seclusion? Or at least, the start of it, such that the finding of Xue Yang by the side of the road happened either shortly before or shortly after he got out (and, in this case, went to Yiling)

and they have no reason to visit Yiling, so...all that...plays out. as in canon

no reason to visit Yiling, that is, until Xue Yang is sitting on the floor of the coffin house clutching a bag containing the shards of Xiao Xingchen's soul and feeling something like remorse for the first time in his life and he HATES it, he hates it SO GODDAMN MUCH, he wants to burn everyone who contributed to this to the ground and then torment their ghosts for centuries

so, he might then visit Yiling and the man said to be some sort of inheritor of the Yiling Patriarch's power. He almost certainly tries to play nice and helpless, just a good young man who made bad choices and lost his friend, and Lan Wangji probably tries to give him the benefit of the doubt and...yeah that does not last long.

especially if A-Qing has anything to say mime about it

Xue Yang has a fierce corpse on call and the won't-stay-down attitude of a feral weasel on crack who hates you personally, but Lan Wangji has a the home court advantage, including extensive practice siphoning and applying power from the Burial Mounds, and he's fucking Hanguang-jun.

Result: Lan Sizhui gets a sad fierce corpse uncle and a cheerfully-refusing-to-pass-on ghost-jie

HARD CUT uh...10? Ish? Years later? Wei Wuxian aka Mo Xuanyu is quickly giving up the idea of subtle launching fierce corpses at this hand bc at this point it's either out himself or people die, and the latter is not acceptable. He's just about to whistle them in when a ghost whips in and probably saves someone's life by knocking them out of the way. One of the Lan babies shrieks and hides behind another one - but a third points excitedly to the sky and shouts, "Oh, it's Lan Sizhui! Sizhui, over here!"

and who should descend by sword but one Nice Young Man(TM) with a guqin that he plays while switching effortlessly back and forth between spiritual and resentful energy, which, damn, Wei Wuxian didn't even know that was an option. I mean, it wasn't, for him, but...damn! What a clever kid! Did someone teach him?!

oh yeah, imminent danger of death by angry left hand -

Wei Wuxian does have to openly intervene, or at least, obviously intervene by fierce corpse and shouting some instructions at the kids, and then letting this Sizhui kid take the credit for the fierce corpses and trying to book it but, uh...getting caught. By aforementioned Sizhui kid. Who is polite and formal and, Wei Wuxian points out, extremely un-GusuLan-like, what with the bothering him and also the demonic cultivation. There's probably still the ghost of a teenage girl following them and making rude gestures at Wei Wuxian for insulting her little brother

"That's because I'm from the Yiling branch," Lan Sizhui admits, a little shame-facedly except that it's definitely fake shame. 

"Hmm?" says Wei Wuxian, like he knows what that means but is curious for more information (as opposed to have no goddamn idea what that means and desperately wanting more information)

"I, ah, study with Hanying-jun" says Lan Sizhui, who doesn't want to make a big deal out of his parentage. 

"Hmm?" says Wei Wuxian, who is fucking Dying here "I thought I might escort you home with me, so you can get properly cleansed after manipulating those corpses. One must be careful, of course." He sighs in a slightly teenagerish way. "It'll take most of a day, probably, after that arm. I try to use only spiritual energy on night hunts, but that was...pretty bad." 

Wei Wuxian, internally: okay, CONS: getting spiritually cleaned by Lans, even possibly Cool Lans - ugh, why are Lans always like this. PROS: finding out who the fuck this "Hanying-jun” is, bc...what the fuck. In Yiling? Is he stealing MY schtick?? And I can't just ASK, because clearly this kid expects me to recognize the title, which means Mo Xuanyu would probably recognize the title, and even a Lan who practices some sort of resentful energy manipulation isn't just going to be okay with suddenly meeting the Yiling Patriarch...And i can always run if I have to. 

WWX: I mean...okay! I don't have anything else to do!

except they do detour to Dafan Mountain a little because Lan Sizhui wasn't raised quite Lan enough to beat out the rebellious teenager streak and he wants to fight a big monster, and Jiang Cheng nearly fucking draws Zidian on sight bc he really. Hates. The Yiling Lans. And then Lan Wangji shows up just bc he heard about a ruckus and figured it was a good place to find his son

and then goddess statue, Wen Ning, terrible bamboo flute...

it's definitely not 'til after Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng have started and maybe finished fighting before Wie Wuxian finds out that the mysterious bastard who totally stole his spot as Dark Lord of Yiling is Hanguang-jun

or, you know...different title now

apparently

and then LWJ takes him and orders him bathed and - wait actually if they've developed elaborate formal spiritual purification rituals to balance handing resentful energy, he. he probably does order Wei Wuxian bathed

and then brought to his room

oh wow

beautiful

AND THEN PLOT RESUMES AS NORMAL?!? except possibly several questions of romance and Lan Sizhui's history get cleared up much faster 

also Lan Wangji - Hanying-jun - doesn’t have as peerless a reputation to trade on. Public opinion is probably fairly split between camps of, like, “he’s doing a good and noble thing, cleaning the Burial Mounds” vs. “the Lans say it’s okay so it must be, but wow that seems dangerous and/or useless” vs. “demonic cultivation is always eeeevil!” Among cultivators specifically, it’s more the first two, but...performatively more the first, genuinely more the second.

[cinaja]

Before the Wall part 36

Masterlist

TW: hallucinations, alcoholism (sort of, just tagging both to be sure. Which reminds me, if there are any triggers I should tag, please let me know!)

----

The soldiers came in the early hours of the morning. The village was small, with just over two hundred people, most of them farmers since most soldiers had left for the war when it began. The people never stood a chance. It’s a wonder they even managed to get a warning out, but by the time reinforcements arrived from a nearby town, nothing but smoking ruins remained of the village, the corpses of its inhabitants cooling between the debris.

Drakon stands amidst the wreckage and stares at the corpses. If not for him, they might still be alive. Killing them was unnecessary, their deaths benefited no one. No, this is simply Ravenia’s way to make a point, to show the entire world and Drakon especially that she doesn’t tolerate opposition.

“You don’t need to come every time,” Sinna says from where she’s standing next to Drakon.

In the month since his meeting with Ravenia, this is the twelfth village that gets destroyed like this. Ravenia didn’t invade Erithia like Drakon first feared, likely because she didn’t want to spare the soldiers it would need to take and hold an entire territory. So instead of attacking Drakon’s country, she attacked his people, sending small bands of soldiers to destroy and kill as they see fit.

“Yes, I do.” He couldn’t save these people. The least he owes them is to be there to witness their deaths.

Nephelle appears between two houses and walks over to them, face grave.

“How many this time?” Drakon asks.

Ravenia’s soldiers always operate the same way: They destroy every house in the village, except for one. There, they lock up all the village children after they murdered everyone else. So in each village, Drakon’s soldiers find a group of scared children who sometimes spent hours locked in a house after watching their parents get murdered.

“Nine.” Nephelle tries to brush dirt from her left wing but only succeeds in smearing it further. “Four of them have surviving family in other parts of the country.”

Drakon nods. “Please make sure that they get brought to their families. Give the other children to the town magistrate, they are to find foster families for them.”

At least that should be no trouble. Fae children are considered sacred and there has been no lack of families that happily offer to take in a war orphan. Still, Drakon dreads the day when there will be no more volunteers and he’ll have to force families to take in children.

“You should go if you don’t want to be late for your meeting,” Sinna says. “I’ll see to it that the dead get burned with all necessary honours.

Outside of the city, some of his soldiers have already begun to construct a pyre. Drakon usually helps with that and stays until the dead have turned to smoke rising towards the sky, but today, he’s short of time. There is an Alliance council meeting in an hour and he has been trying to attend those more frequently lately. He might still call the meeting off today, but he gave Miryam his word that he’d come.

“Could you tell my ruling council that I want to meet with them in the evening?” Drakon asks. “We need to discuss possible strategies against Ravenia’s soldiers.”

Unfortunately, Drakon doubts that this meeting will be any more successful than the last ones were. They simply don’t have enough soldiers to guard each and every village. Drakon suggested moving the inhabitants of the smaller villages closer to bigger cities where they would have more protection, but few people would be willing to abandon their homes. Besides, as several of his councilmembers informed him, the villages are largely responsible for Erithia’s agriculture, so telling their people to flee to the cities would likely lead to famines on the long run.

But maybe today, they’ll find a solution. Drakon has lots of very smart people working for him, he’s sure one of them will come up with something. He has to believe it.

He says goodbye to Sinna, who is already busy giving orders to her soldiers, and winnows back to their camp to change into something more presentable. However, when he enters his tent, he finds Miryam sitting on his bed. Before he has the chance to speak, she jumps to her feet and hugs him.

“I just heard,” she says softly. “How many?”

“Over two hundred.” His voice shakes, but there’s no one but Miryam to hear, so he doesn’t try to steady himself.

“I’m so sorry.” Miryam lets go of him, but keeps her hand resting on his arm. “They spared the children again?”

Drakon nods, thinking that the Loyalists never spare human children when they sack their villages. Even when the Loyalists commit crimes of war and slaughter innocents, they still treat humans and Fae differently.

“The council won’t send any help, will it?” He asks.

“Erithia isn’t the only Fae country that’s getting attacked,” Miryam says, “With how the war is developing, I doubt any one will be able to spare much help, if any.” She presses her lips together. “We’ll be lucky if none of them leave the Alliance.”

After Ravenia started her attack on Erithia, it only took a few weeks for the other Loyalist countries to take up the tactic. Widespread belief in the Alliance has it that the Ravenia hopes to frighten them into submission, although Miryam told Drakon that she doesn’t believe that Ravenia ever planned for her strategy to be copied. Either way, the strategy to scare the Alliance seems to work.

“I ought to change clothes if we don’t want to be late,” Drakon says, changing the subject.

Miryam nods and turns her back to him to give him some privacy. Drakon begins to open the straps of his armour. “And how are you?” He asks.

She shrugs. “I just had another discussion with Mor. She told me I should leave Jurian.”

“Again?” That would be the third time already.

“Yep.” Even with her back turned to him, Drakon can imagine Miryam making a face at the tent’s wall. “I appreciate her concern, I truly do. But it’s just… I told her I’m fine.”

“And you are?” Miryam starts to turn around, then seems to remember that Drakon is just changing clothes and stops mid-motion. “Not about Jurian,” Drakon clarified quickly. So far, he very purposefully stayed out of Miryam’s relationship with Jurian. He doesn’t really have a right to comment on that, given his situation. “I just meant…” He meant that Miryam looks terrible and it’s getting worse with each day. “Things with your powers are fine, aren’t they? You’ve got it under control?”

He reaches for a dark coat a servant already prepared for him and puts it on.

“You don’t need to worry,” Miryam says, face still turned to the wall. “Things are just a little stressful at the moment, but it’s alright.”

Drakon hesitates, torn between knowing that he should accept her answer and worry that there might be something she isn’t telling him. She really doesn’t look well. But of course, with how the war is going lately, there are a thousand perfectly normal explanations. And at the end of the day, if Miryam says it’s alright, he doesn’t get to contradict her.

“Good,” he says, tightening the last button of his jacket. “I’m done. You can turn back around.”

----

Sitting in the council’s meeting chamber, Miryam does her best to ignore the shadows dancing through the room. They curl and twist around each other, occasionally forming humanoid figures. They whisper in voices Miryam can’t understand, which is beyond irritating given that she is actually supposed to be paying attention to the meeting.

For three hours, they have been arguing. The Fae countries are getting attacked, but instead of looking for a productive solution, they seem content to complain and argue with each other. Twice already did one of them hint at wanting to leave the war behind. Of course, the humans aren’t amused at all by this discussion – after all, they have been dealing with what the Fae are now facing ever since the war began and most of them have little patience for their complaints. She can imagine how Jurian would react if he had chosen to come along.

Miryam has been trying to keep the peace ever since the meeting began and she is so tired of it. It’s like some of these Fae realize only now that this is serious. She exchanges a look with Drakon, who shrugs helplessly. Behind him, the shadows keep dancing. Miryam’s head is pounding.

“Lady Miryam,” one of the Fae rulers says, “What is your stance on this?”

Her stance? Her stance is the same as during most meetings: To stop arguing and start working on the problem. Why is it that she always has to stop an argument first before they can start looking for a solution? Damnit, if the council would manage to work together just once, they might have won this war and ended slavery already.

She never had much patience for this, but now that it’s painfully obvious that she’s running out of time, it’s even worse. No one noticed what is wrong with her yet, but Miryam has been seeing the shadows for two weeks now, and with how quickly the hallucinations get worse, she doesn’t know how long she’ll be able to hide it anymore. If the council finds out that she’s slowly losing her mind, she’ll be stripped of her position in a minute and so far, she has no idea who could replace her. Andromache and Zeku would be the most likely candidates, but neither have the necessary backing from the other fraction of the council.

“Lady Miryam?” The Fae repeats.

Miryam looks around the table and realizes that everyone is watching her, waiting. Not only that, they’re clearly expecting her to say something to settle this argument. Wonderful.

“These are difficult times,” she says. “War on the Continent has always followed certain rules. The Loyalists have now broken them.” One of the human Alliance members snorts and Miryam is quick to continue. “They have been breaking them ever since the war began, but so far, no one cared because it only ever went against the human.”

Now, a few of the Fae look displeased. They would rather focus on their own suffering – none of them are particularly interested in hearing that other people have been going through worse for years already.

“I know,” Miryam continues, hoping that she won’t mess this up, “that many people here have been reconsidering their alliance as of late.” She purposefully says people, even though she actually means Fae. “Let this be your final proof that anyone who hopes he can declare neutrality and get out of this fight unscathed will be sorely disappointed. The Loyalists don’t follow Continental codes of honour and should they win, none of us can expect any leniency.” She leans forward in her seat. “It’s time for us all to face the truth,” she says and means that the humans have known it from the beginning. “This isn’t a common war because we don’t have the option to surrender. We either win or we die – Ravenia will allow no other option.”

This is, of course, complete rubbish. Should the Loyalists win, Miryam is nearly certain that the Alliance Fae will be just fine. They might lose parts of their influence, just enough to annoy them, but they won’t be harmed. Ravenia, horrible as she may be, has no interest in enslaving Fae. Even her promise to kill everyone in Erithia was likely an empty threat – should she win, Miryam doubts she would go through with it. Ravenia doesn’t murder Fae unless it benefits her in some way.

But that doesn’t matter. What matter is that the Alliance Fae believe that it is their freedom, their future, at stake. They don’t care enough about the humans to fight this war for them? Then Miryam is simply going to convince them that they are fighting for themselves.

“You don’t have to believe me, of course,” she says and now, she does turn to the Fae side of the room. “You can leave this Alliance right now. Declare neutrality, take your soldiers back to your own country and pray to your gods that the Loyalists will let you be. And maybe they will. But if they don’t – and I can assure you that they won’t – there will be no one left to help you. You will be on your own, and you won’t stand a chance.”

Now, the Fae no longer seem angry, but rather worried. A few of them exchange nervous glances. They actually believe her – maybe because many of them somehow believe that Miryam has some sort of secret knowledge on Ravenia’s plans, or maybe just because she voiced worries they already had.

“But if you don’t want to take your chances on your own,” she says, “then this Alliance is your best hope. And since all of our lives are at stake here, I suggest we finally stop arguing and start working together to win this war.”

The silence that follows is almost tangible. Into it, one of the shadows lets out a shrill laugh and Miryam has to keep from flinching.

“Well,” Andromache says, breaking the silence, “I think that about covers it. If anyone wants to leave. The door is over there.”

A few of the Fae exchange looks again, but none of them move.

“Then perhaps we ought to discuss possible strategies to fight back against the Loyalists,” Zeku says. And that’s what they do.

 By the time the meeting is over, Miryam is about ready to curl up in her bed and sleep for a day. At least the shadows are gone and her power has calmed down considerably, but she’s still tired.

“Miryam?” Andromache puts a hand on her arm. “Can we talk?”

She considers excusing herself, but now that she thinks about it, she isn’t all too eager to go back to her camp. “Sure,” she says.

Andromache leads her past the official meeting rooms and up a flight of stairs. The guards posted along the corridors incline their heads as they walk past.

“Where are we going?” Miryam asks.

“My quarters. They offer a little more privacy.”

All of the queens have their private quarters in the palace in Telique, since the human queens spent almost as much time there as in their own kingdoms. The close connection between the human kingdoms has always been frowned upon by the Fae, but the humans’ precarious situation on the Continent has made it necessary to stick together.

Andromache’s kingdom owns an entire floor in the palace’s left wing. She herself lives in a small suite of interconnecting rooms when she is here. Two guards open the door for them; Andromache leads Miryam to the living room, dismisses her servants and walks over to the cupboard.

“Do you want wine?” She asks, then shakes her head. “No, wait, you don’t drink. Water, then?”

“Yes, please.” Andromache hands her a glass and Miryam smiles. “Thank you.”

The queen lets herself plop down on a sofa and gestures for Miryam to take a seat. “Quite the meeting. Do you think your little trick will work?”

Miryam shrugs. “We’ll know soon enough.”

If it didn’t work, it will likely cost them this war. With the Loyalists now attacking civilians, many Alliance countries will find the cost of the war too high. If they believe they can get away with it, they’ll cut their losses and declare neutrality and losing their support would deal the Alliance a huge blow, likely permanently tipping the scales in favour of the Loyalists.

Andromache seems to think the same, because she asks, “Have you gotten any further with the wall?”

“Yes.” Miryam takes a sip from her water to buy herself some time. The spell she’s working on scares her almost as much as the current developments of the war, but for entirely different reasons. “I just need to test the spell I wrote. If it works, I’m done. If not…” She shrugs. “I suppose then I need to start over, I just have no idea where.”

“Then let’s hope it works,” Andromache says gravely.

Miryam nods, feeling terrible about herself. She knows how important this spell is, yet there’s a small part of her that desperately hopes it won’t work. With how her power has been acting lately, she has now idea how she’s supposed to get through a spell this powerful. Chances are she won’t be able to do it.

“Is this what you wanted to talk about?” She asks, hoping to change the subject.

“Well.” Andromache takes a sip from her wine. “Not entirely. Mor asked me to talk to you, you see.”

“Ah.” Miryam sighs. It seems like today, the world wants to make her deal with all of her least favourite topics today. “This again.”

She already had this argument with Mor thrice. Apparently, Mor now got the idea that she would be more inclined to listen to Andromache. Too bad for her, since Miryam has no inclination to discuss this matter again.

“I know this annoys you,” Andromache says quickly. “And believe me, the last thing I want to do is to stick my nose into your private matters. But Mor worries about you, and quite frankly, so do I.”

“I already told Mor: I’m fine.”

“Have you by chance looked into a mirror lately?” Andromache asks.

Yes, Miryam has and she knows fully well how terrible she looks. Mostly sleepless nights have made her eyes permanently lined with shadows. She also lost weight – not because she doesn’t eat, she does, but her power combined with the stress seem to burn through any food too quickly for her to keep up. Her face has grown thinner, almost gaunt, making her look older than her twenty-three years.

If she’s being honest, she can’t entirely blame Mor and Andromache for being worried. She just doesn’t like the conclusion they come to.

“Five years of war,” she says. “Thousands of dead people and still no end in sight. And you think the reason why I look unwell is Jurian?”

“No, of course not.” Andromache sighs. “But something is clearly wrong, and it’s not just the war. And forgive me for saying it, but it is hardly a secret that things between Jurian and you have not been going well for quite some time.”

Miryam pointedly looks away. Having trouble in her relationship is bad enough. But with Miryam and Jurian both famous amongst the soldiers, the details of their relationship crises are discussed around campfires throughout the entire Continent. Jurian doesn’t seem overly bothered by it – maybe because his soldiers never repeat the rumours in his presence – but Miryam, who is far more involved in politics, has quite some trouble with those rumours.

“May I ask you a question?” Andromache asks. Miryam nods, even though she fears she might yet regret it. “Do you still love him.”

“Of course,” Miryam replies without missing a beat. What kind of question is this? As if she’d ever stop loving Jurian.

Andromache nods slowly. “And do you enjoy spending time together?”

Miryam looks away. The answer should be as easy as that to the last question, but she can’t quite get herself to say it. “It’s war,” she says, “We have little time to do things that are particularly enjoyable.”

“But do you feel better when you are together?” Andromache presses. “Do you miss him when he’s not around? Does being with him make things more bearable?”

No. The thought stings, but it is true. Spending time with Jurian too often is like walking barefoot over broken glass – no matter how careful you are, you still end up cutting yourself. All of their conversations circle around the war and the slightest mistake leads to an argument. How could this make her feel better? More and more often, she has to force herself to spend time with him, which just makes her feel worse about herself.

“Sometimes love isn’t enough,” Andromache says softly. “If you don’t fit together – “

“But we do fit.”

They’ve been together for the past five years, after all. And they do fit. Nearly perfectly. They understand each other, or they used to, they have the same goals. It’s always been them together against the world. And Jurian is a great person. She loves him, damnit.

“This isn’t forever,” she whispers, “Things are just a little difficult at the moment. With the war and everything…” Her grip around the glass tightens and she has to force her fingers to loosen so that she won’t shatter it. “We’ve been together for five years. I can’t just throw all that away simply because things get a little difficult.”

“You’re unhappy, though.” Andromache delicately sets her wine glass down on the table. “And you have been for quite some time. I simply don’t understand why you insist on remaining in a situation that makes you unhappy.”

“He helped me as well,” Miryam says, “When I couldn’t… He was always there for me.” He isn’t now, but that’s irrelevant. “And now he is the one who needs my help. How could I just abandon him? I need to at least try to…” She shakes her head.

Of course, trying hasn’t really helped much yet. But she doesn’t want to imagine what her leaving would do to Jurian. He’s already so hurt whenever they argue, if she left… No, she can’t do that to him.

“I can’t just abandon him,” she repeats and stares at Andromache until she nods.

----

“We could go to the theatre sometime,” Clythia says, “Watch a play. I don’t like that we’re always meeting in secret – it feels like we’re hiding.”

The stupidity in that sentence alone is enough that Jurian has to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Once again, Clythia seems completely oblivious to the fact that they fight on opposite sides in this war. Not to mention that her side deems people like Jurian less than animals. And she complains about secrecy?

“Maybe when the war is over,” he says as neutrally as possible. “Right now, I don’t think either of our sides would be pleased if we made things public.”

Clythia lets out a bright laugh. “Mara is annoyed enough as it is. She keeps telling me to break up with you, can you imagine? Says I shouldn’t trust you.”

Yes, Jurian actually can imagine that. Unlike her sister, Amarantha seems to possess at least some brain cells, so it’s only logical that she would notice that something’s amiss. Fortunately for Jurian, Clythia isn’t smart enough to listen to her sister.

“Miryam is the same,” Jurian says, feeling terrible about having to make that comparison. “She doesn’t like us meeting either.”

Clythia frowns in answer. “Why do you still bother with her, anyways? She’s as good as dead.”

You are the one who’s as good as dead, and I’m going to be the one to kill you, Jurian thinks, but says, “It’s political,” he lies. “Our relationship is too public, if we break up, there’ll be trouble.”

“She’ll break up with you, though,” Clythia says lightly. “And she’ll die. Something to do with that Fae friend of hers, I think.”

Jurian’s stomach twists. “Drakon?”

Is that another prophecy? And if so, does that mean the future changed, or has it just grown more concrete? He digs his fingers into the grassy ground. He refuses to believe this. It just can’t be true.

“Yes, him.” Clythia grins “Which reminds me, do you have any idea what Ravenia wants with him? Mara keeps coming up with theories about that. She’s very curious about…”

Jurian stops listening to her. He doesn’t particularly care about Ravenia’s interest in Drakon, or any theories Amarantha might have come up with. He can’t stand this, can’t stand any of this. He just wants Clythia and Amarantha dead already. Maybe then, everything could go back to normal. Maybe if they were dead, his life would stop falling apart in his hands.

He manages to endure Clythia and her prattling for a few more minutes before he makes up some reason to excuse himself. She kisses him as a goodbye and he has to clamp down on the urge to gag.

He makes it ten minutes away from the tent before he has to slide off his horse and retch behind a bush. Shaking, he kneels on the ground. His eyes burn, but he refuses to cry. His horse nudges him in the side, presses its warm snout into Jurian’s face. He smiles and runs his fingers through the soft fur, then hoists himself back into the saddle.

Miryam is still awake when Jurian slips into their tent. She’s sitting at the table, papers full of scrawling symbols spread out before her, frowning slightly. When Jurian enters, she looks up. He strolls past her to the cupboard, pulls out a bottle of liquor and takes a deep swig.

Bottle still in hand, he sits down opposite Miryam. She remains silent, waiting for him to speak first. Jurian takes up his bottle again and drains a quarter of it in one go. He holds Miryam’s eyes as he does, daring her to disagree. She doesn’t like when he drinks like this, but when he returns from a meeting with Clythia, she usually lets him.

“No new intel today?” Miryam asks.

Jurian merely takes another swig and shakes his head. Just that you’re still going to die And you’ll leave me. He can’t stand this, none of it. This entire war is killing him.

“You met with Drakon today, didn’t you?” He asks before Miryam can decide to ask after his meeting with Clythia.

“Yes.”

Miryam’s reply is question and answer in one, her tone hesitant like she is worried about what will follow. It occurs to Jurian that he hasn’t shown interest in anything concerning Drakon since their falling out. Miryam did her best to get him to care about the current situation in Erithia, but why would he be particularly interested in one territory when the entire Continent is suffering?

Especially when it concerns Drakon. Jurian thinks back to Clythia’s words. If he’s going to get Miryam killed…

“Don’t you think you’re spending a little too much time with him?” He asks hesitantly.

Miryam straightens. “What do you mean by that?” Any tiredness has vanished from her eyes

“I just…” Jurian fidgets in his seat and takes another sip from his bottle. The alcohol is beginning to set in and his head feels strangely light. The accusing tone in Miryam’s voice annoys him. Why does she insist on meeting with Drakon so often, anyways?

“You spend more time with him than with me,” he says, realizing too late that this makes him sound like a sullen child.

“You can’t be serious.” Miryam shakes her head softly. When Jurian doesn’t reply, she leans back in her seat. “How about you tell me what this is actually about. Now.”

“He’ll get you killed,” Jurian whispers. He doesn’t know why he says it. Maybe it’s a result of the alcohol. Probably. If so, he should take a note from Miryam and stop drinking.

“He’ll what?”

Jurian considers storming out of the tent, but now that he started it, there’s nothing he can do about it anymore. Miryam’s nothing if not determined – she will find out what this is about whether he wants her to or not. He looks down at his hands, unwilling to meet her eyes as he speaks.

“Clythia said that you’d die,” he says haltingly, stumbling over the words. He can’t quite bring himself to say it out loud. “Before the war ends. She says it’s certain.” He pauses. “And she said that Drakon would play a role in it.”

Miryam doesn’t reply. Jurian waits a moment, but then, he can’t take it anymore. The silence becomes unbearable, it presses against him from all sides like a wet blanket. Slowly, he looks up. Miryam doesn’t look half as shocked as he imagined, given that he just told her that she would die. In fact, she looks like she’s far more shocked by his behaviour than by Clythia’s prophecy.

“You don’t believe me,” he says flatly.

“No, I don’t believe Clythia.” Miryam rests her head on her hands. “And quite frankly, I’m stunned that you do. Don’t you think that Clythia – an enemy commander who is obsessed with you and hates me – might have reason to tell you that I’ll die and any relationship between us therefore has no future?”

So it’s not that she doesn’t believe him, she just doesn’t trust his judgement. “She didn’t seem like she was lying.”

“I don’t seem like I’m lying when I’m lying,” Miryam shoots back. “That’s kind of the point.”

This is exactly why Jurian hates arguing with Miryam. Somehow, she always manages to end up making a point that is impossible to argue with. And right now, well, right now, he feels stupid on top of that.

“Aren’t you worried about this at all?” he asks, because he refuses to just let the subject drop.

“I don’t see why I should be.” Miryam shrugs. “The way I see it, Clythia is either lying, in which case I’m fine and don’t need to worry, or she’s telling the truth, in which case I will die and no one is able to do anything about it, so worrying won’t change anything about it.”

Jurian glares down at his feet. He was worried Miryam would freak out, but her indifference bothers him even more. He takes another swig from his bottle, realizing that it is almost empty already. Maybe Miryam really does have a point about his current drinking habits, but the alcohol makes the pain in his chest fade to a dull aching. And he just can’t bear to constantly be in pain.

Miryam sighs. “Let’s face it, Jur,” she says, voice softer than before. “This war is no place for people whose biggest care is their own survival.” She smiles softly. “It’s not that I want to die. Quite the contrary. I’d very much like to see this peace we’re fighting for, and maybe sort my life out somewhere along the way. But if I don’t survive, then I certainly won’t complain as long as we win.”

Wonderful. Now Miryam somehow managed to argue that her own death is acceptable in a way that Jurian can’t even argue with. After all, he feels the same way about his own life.

He drains the last bit of his bottle. His head is pleasantly light now, and his problems seem almost bearable. He peers at the papers on Miryam’s desk. “Is that the wall spell?”

“Yes.” Miryam carefully puts her papers on a stack. “I’ve been working on it all afternoon.”

“Any news?”

That would be some good news for once. And right now, Jurian desperately needs some good news. There’s too much going terribly wrong right now, but maybe if this spell works, things will finally start going right again.

“Yes.” Miryam presses her lips together and Jurian braces for her to tell him that it isn’t going to work. “I’m finished,” Miryam says.

There is such a discrepancy between her words and her tone that it takes Jurian a few moments to understand what she is trying to say. “You’re finished?” He repeats. Miryam nods.

Jurian jumps to his feet. Too quickly. The ground sways under him and he has to grip the table to keep from falling. “Yes.”

He pulls Miryam to her feet and spins her around. She lets out a startled sound, somewhere between laugh and gasp. He pulls her close and kisses her.

“You’re brilliant,” he tells her, “Absolutely brilliant.”

Miryam smiles back at him. She looks tired, but if she spent all day working on the spell, that’s only logical. He kisses her again. Finally some good news – they’ll have to tell the others right away. The sooner they cast the spell the safer they will all be.

Miryam wraps her arms around him. “I love you,” she says softly, “You know that, right?”

“Of course.”

Why does she even need to ask this? They belong together, they always have. Although maybe lately, Jurian has been a bit too busy with the war. But he can’t help that, Miryam should understand. Of course she understands.

“I love you too,” he whispers and pulls her close to him.

----

Tags: @sjm-things @croissantcitysucks

[solesurvivorpaigeargot]

POV!

no excuses writing meme, askbox version

POV — something that’s already happened, retold from another character’s perspective

[Opening of Chapter Five: Stolen Minutes from Paige’s perspective instead of Hancock’s]

It was early. Stupid early. Paige knew it was, but that didn’t change the fact that she was awake. The consideration to go back to sleep crossed her mind-- to maybe re-adjust her grip on Hancock, nuzzle her head against the back of his neck, and try to sneak in a few more minutes... but every moment she remained still, her mind only got louder in reminding her all the things that needed to be done before they headed out. There was the final check on the armor, a complete inventory of their supplies to be counted, medicine to be taken and no doubt some kind of breakfast to scarf down before they hit the road. No matter how early she was awake, did she really have any time to be wasting just because laying with him was comfortable and warm? Just because she found something strangely comforting about holding him and listening to him snore?

No. She decided, and withdrew.

She’d barely managed to heft herself upright before his snoring ceased; a sure sign that she hadn’t managed to extract herself cleanly. She tried to ignore it, setting herself to a brief stretch before sliding one leg off the bed Nathan had let them use and leaning forward to stand up and out of that warmth.

Instead, she was seized around the waist, her butt landing back on the mattress.

“... John...” She sighed. She’d already fought herself. She’d tired to linger, failed, and now she was up. Did she really have to fight him, too?

“Mmmhmmm?” He hummed dimly, innocently, as his other arm joined the one that had originally halted her. Not content to simply be a ghoul-shaped paperweight, he tightened his grasp until he was securely wrapped around her hips and his face was pressed against the small of her back.

A sensitive spot, one that got distracted by the texture of his skin.

“C'mon, it's time.” She pressured, dismissing anything down that avenue of thought from her mind with extreme prejudice.

“Nnnnope.” He drawled against the bottom hem of her shirt, tightening his grip even further. “I get five minutes. Minimum.”

“What? Why?” She demanded. Then again, considering how rarely they got to sleep anywhere with even a modicum of privacy...

No, damnit, we’re not thinking about that. 

“What do you think you're gonna get away with in five minutes?”

He chuckled against her back; but not the dark sort of chuckle he’d let out while they were in the middle of things and treating her to just how rough his voice could be. No, it was... softer than that.

“This.” 

No sooner did he answer than he yanked her back, pulling her away from the edge of the bed and ensuring that the foot she had managed to put on the cold wood floor was pulled back up onto the mattress. “H-hey--” She protested, attempting to keep her balance and stay upright, but ultimately failing as her body landed back on the bed. She was back in the warm spot she’d left behind, held securely to keep her from rolling away. “You... we were together all night, what's five more minutes gonna do for you?”

“Didn't count.” He mumbled. “I was sleepin'.”

Seriously? She couldn’t help rolling her eyes. She’d tried to give both of them a little longer, tried to lay still for a few more minutes.

Then again, he hadn’t been awake then. Now he was, and he wanted just a little time before they faced the day. That soothed away the irritated knitting of her brow, and curved a secret smile onto her face.

With a sigh, she surrendered.  

“... alright, alright... five minutes.” 

With surrender, she finally allowed the tension in her core to relax, and he let go of her once he was assured she wasn’t going to try and escape again. She rolled a little, turning his way and using him as a pillow for her entire person; his arm under hear head, her arm and leg cast over him for her to scoot in close and soak up the warmth he all but endlessly generated; more precious since the blanket had gotten thrown most of the way off. Once she settled, he shifted to get comfortable himself; his hand over the arm she’d laid on him, a slight bend to his free leg, the faint turn of his head towards her. 

She decided she wouldn’t actually count five minutes-- she’d leave it up to an estimation. Or maybe they’d drift off again; her mind seemed a lot quieter now.

His head moved again. She thought to ask him if she needed to move, if this angle wasn’t good for his neck, but the question was moot. 

He’d bent his head to her, and kissed her forehead. 

Warmth. Not his; hers. The kind that set her face on fire and made her feel as if she might see a red glow off of them, not unlike the kind that came off of her laser musket when it was fully charged. 

She’d not been prepared. It was something so soft, so gentle; but most of all? It was how she was gentle to him. A kiss to his brow was something she’d done to him; something to show him that their first time hooking up, as it were, was more meaningful to her than just being friends with benefits. Neither had assigned words to it, actually talked about it, but being soft with him? That specific token of affection?

It was how she’d let him know it wasn’t just lust. That it was real.

“... John...” She murmured. Or maybe it was a plea? It was something small and uncertain, but also desperate to be heard.

“Hmmm?” He prompted inarticulately. His rough lips were still resting on her forehead. She swore she felt them curve into a smile.

I...

She couldn’t even think it. The words would not consent to pass through her head, much less onto her tongue and pass her lips. 

The last time she’d said those words had been to a man who was now dead... but damnit she felt it-- felt it in the way her heart swelled beneath her ribs, desperate to keep this-- she wanted to keep this. Him.

He moved, his lips replaced with his brow as he lazily bonked his head against hers.

“'s too early to be thinkin' that hard, Paige.” He mumbled whilst withdrawing, settling back into the pillow beneath his head and neck. “Take it easy...”

I never want to wake up without you. I don’t want to be away from you.

I need you with me. I feel like I’ll fall apart if I’m on my own again.

I...

She gave up on her thoughts, on words. Instead, she leaned up, shifted herself over him, and kissed him like he’d kissed her-- softly, sweetly... but captured his lips rather than press the token on his forehead. 

That felt right.

[heavenly-dio]

A Slightly Bitter Love Story 1

Within UA's office building, through the twisting corridors and dozens of offices, you would find the head office of one Nedzu, the genius animal whose eye for talent and strategy remained unmatched. Within this office, a particularly curious group had assembled. Nedzu himself- it was his office after all- One of Nedzu's trusted teachers, the ever logical Aizawa Shouta, and, oddly enough, the Rank 5 Pro Hero Miruko, arms crossed and foot tapping in annoyance.

The two humans stood behind Nedzu's desk, flanking the small rodent as they stared at the student sitting in the center of the room. They were tall for a 17 year old, and they had longer black hair that fell down their face in long wavy strands, although it was still much shorter than Aizawa's own unkempt hairstyle. The boy, whose face was twisted into a sour expression of frustration, sat with his arms crossed, glaring at the Rabbit Hero with as much heat and anger as she had been sending his way for the last 15 quiet minutes.

Nedzu figured it was about time they broke that silence. “Shogeki-kun, you could just say no, you’ve been glaring at that file fo-”

“Alright sick, later-”

“Sit your ass down, boy!” Shogeki Akira groaned in frustration while Nedzu just sighed, asking Miruko to keep her voice down. She harumphed loudly, crossing her arms and continuing to bare her teeth at her student intern. He gave her back just as much as she gave him, really really not in the mood for her shit today.

“Shogeki-kun," Nedzu decided to try again, "While I can’t force you to accept this offer, I’m sure it will be of great benefit to the both of us.”

“Look Nedzu-sensei, I get it, I really do, but how the hell would I benefit from this? I already have to deal with my classes and training, not to mention my internship with this bitch!” He gestured to Miruko, who just rolled her eyes at him. “I don’t have time for any of this, not that I would want to do it anyway.”

“Hey brat," Shogeki looked back over at Miruko, who had lost her scowl, "Quit being a jackass and actually think this through. The League has had a leg up on the heroes for too long, and we finally managed to catch one. This is a victory these whelps," She gestured to Nedzu and Aizawa with her head, "Desperately need. Now quit causing problems and put what I've taught you into action."

The student pinched his nose, trying to ignore the small bit of shame he was feeling that was quickly replaced with more annoyance. He turned to Nedzu, "Alright, alright. Let's say I agree to this crazy ass plan you've got. What then? I still have my classwork, plus my extra coursework for advanced classes, and hero training, and my internship. I'm running on fumes at the end of my days as is, I don't have the time to play babysitter to some blonde bimbo in a sailor outfit."

"We've thought it over," Aizawa spoke up, bringing the students attention to him, "And we're prepared to transfer some of your classes into a workload only structure. You'll be given all of your work for that class at the beginning of the month, and you'll be able to complete them on your own time- Lectures no longer required."

Shogeki hummed, "Alright, but what classes? Hero training is obviously not an option, I'm acing the entirety of mathematics, so I guess that? And Modern Hero Art History, not that I give a damn about that class anyway."

“Is that so?” Nedzu glanced over at Aizawa in the corner of the room, who returned the look with a dead stare. Looking back, the ferret-like creature shuffled around a few papers on his desk and said, “I think we can drop Modern Hero Art and Mathematics.”

The student blew air out of his nose in thought, before he sighed, nodded his head, and leaned forward to sign the paperwork. He shook Nedzu's paw and asked,  “When am I getting her?”

“We’ll have the police bring her to your dorm in about a week. We’ll make your classmates aware of the basics of the situation and we’ll help you rearrange your room to accommodate.”

“Yeah, that makes sense" I'm gonna nee- Wait, wait wait wait, she’s gonna be shacking up with me?! I agreed to babysit her, not marry the psycho.”

Aizawa jumped in with, “There needs to be a constant watch over her, so measures will be taken to ensure she’s never more than 20 meters away from you. Any chance she has to escape or cause harm to another student, she’ll no doubt take, so you can’t let her out of your sight. Hygiene and other more private concerns will be deliberated to a female classmate of your choosing, however the large majority of her captivity is your responsibility.”

“The hell is gonna stop her from slitting my neck in my sleep?”

“We’ll be changing the lock on your door from the standard deadbolt to a special electromagnetic lock that Power Loader is designing. It’ll only open when a current of 2 Million Volts run through it, a dangerous level of electricity that very few people in this school have the ability to interact with.”

“Alright, I see how she’ll be unable to escape, but you glossed over the bit about her maybe killing me.”

“All staff and students will be made aware that opening that door themselves will result in severe consequences, meaning that if she kills you, she’ll be left to starve to death.”

“Glad to see my safety is of such a high conce-” Miruko clocked him on the head, a sign that he should probably quit running his mouth. Growling and feeling a bit of blood in his mouth, he swallowed and gave up trying to figure out the situation and just stood up to leave. “I’ll assume you assholes won’t just leave me to die and take my leave then. Need to make sure I hide most of my important shit at my dad’s place, but I’ll wait on you guys to help with the furniture stuff. Anything else I should know?”

“Yeah, actually.” Miruko spoke up, “Stop giving the cops such a hard time, you’re not a pro hero yet, so the cops are gonna have to go through the standard procedures whenever you actually bag a criminal. It’s not their fault, so stop acting like a jackass.”

“I’m not giving them a hard time, I’m just showing them a video on my phone that I’ve found to validate my actions.”

“Oh god, it’s not Stain’s video is it?” Aizawa asks from the corner.

“No, it’s a video of me saying ‘Shogeki Akira is my intern and he’ll do what he wants’.” Miruko gave the second-year student a look like she was just asking him to argue with her. Well, if she was asking…

“Well, you did let me record that video.”

“Because that was the only way I could get you to quit calling me at 3 am from the police station every time your sorry ass got arrested for beating up thugs when you couldn’t sleep!”

“And I haven’t woken you up since, now have I?”

“Shogeki-kun, you can return to class now.” Nedzu interrupted what was quickly becoming a pissing contest before either of them could come to blows, or more realistically, before Miruko could beat him into the ground for disrespecting her authority.

The younger hero in training was only too happy to leave, saying over his shoulder, “I don’t have to go to Mathematics anymore, so I’m heading back to my room. Later boys.” A snarky handwave followed and it was only Aizawa’s capture gear that stopped the rabbit hero from chasing him down.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

“Damnit man, I thought we told you not to get yourself expelled.” The voice that came from behind him was playful, if not still somehow mature at the same time.

With a heavy sigh, Shogeki looked up from packing a box with now-unneeded textbooks and over to his door, mildly upset to see Totsu standing there with his arms crossed. “Will you fuck off and leave me alone for once in your life, I’ve got enough shit to do without having to play 20 questions with you.”

“Oh please, we both know I’d kick your ass at-”

“Coffee table.”

“What are you, a wizard?! How do you do that?”

“You always guess coffee table first, even Hamada knows that, and she’s as scatterbrained as they come.” Totsu pouted, ignoring Shogeki’s very obvious annoyance and sitting on his bed. “What do you want, Totsu, I’m busy. I have to make room for a roommate, because being forced to live with all of you apparently wasn’t punishment enough.”

“Would you lighten up, it’s probably not that ba-”

“She’s a serial killer who’s killed over 90 people.”

“You’re complaining about sharing a room with a chick? Don’t you know that half of the guys in our class would kill to be in your shoes right now?”

“Did you literally not hear a single word I just said?”

“Wait, you’re tossing your neons?!” Totsu pointed to a box of neon wall signs wrapped in an excessive number of towels. “Dude, those are sick, I’ll give you 10,000 yen for them.”

“First of all, those are worth at least 500,000 total, so fuck off my dick with this 10,000 shit. Second, fuck you, third, I’m not tossing them, I’m taking them back to my dad’s place for safekeeping. Supposedly this bitch can kill with her teeth, so I’m not gonna give her chemical weapons in the shape of a glass pineapple.”

“Ooh, are we making fruit salads in here? I heard pineapple!” This time the voice was high pitched and feminine, and the face in the doorway was one made completely of water.

“Hamada, get out of here, we’re not making fruit salads, I’m movi- Why won’t you people leave me alone! Go away, Kikai!” Shogeki screamed at the large robotic student that had appeared behind Hamada, spooking them a bit. The robot charged down the hall, seemingly upset, leading Hamada to voice her thoughts on Shogeki’s rudeness. “Goddamnit, Totsu, go get Kikai and calm them down, I need to talk to Hamada about some shit.”

“Don’t go sleeping around, now, your new girlfriend will get all upset.” The shorter boy left with a cheeky laugh, ducking under a textbook thrown his way.

“Stupid bastard. You can’t even have sex, Hamada, your body doesn’t allow it… Right?” Shogeki shot the water girl a look, gesturing to her body.

“Well, not with you Sparky, you’d drive me a different type of crazy.”

“Can you not do this?”

“Like, I get what you mean, bu-” He shoved his arm into her shoulder and released a small shock, causing her body to lose its shape and collapse into a puddle, her clothes falling with wet smack.

“I get that you love talking, but seriously shut up for a minute.” She reformed just her upper body, sticking out of the floor and causing water damage that he’d probably have to fix later but whatever. “The principal is giving me one of those League bastards to keep an eye on, and there’s certain shit I can’t really do. You’re gonna be in charge of that shit.”

“Like what?”

“Like making sure she’s not turning a wall tile into a shank when she’s in the shower or something. Despite Totsu’s efforts, we don’t have co-ed bathrooms, so I’m not really allowed to be around when she’s showering, so you’ll have to tag in for that.”

“How’s it pay?”

“…Fuckin what?”

“How much are you paying me? This is a job right?”

“No, I’m not getting paid, so neither are you bitch. Got a problem, talk to Nedzu, now get out.”

“Fine, I will talk to Nedzu.” Hamada pouted, reforming the rest of her body and walking out of his room with her arms crossed.

With a deep sigh, Shogeki put the last few textbooks into the box and taped it up, carrying it down to the common room. He sent a message to his father to figure out a time to pick them up and went back up to his room. Taking a quick look around, he decided he’d done enough with his day and retreated back to his room, planning to lie down on his bed to wait until dinner. He used his phone to look up some extra info on this Toga chick he was gonna have to be putting up with. He was aware of the basics, just about anyone knew who the League of Villains were, and the names of the members had become common knowledge to most.

After 20 minutes of searching the internet, he still hasn't found any news of her capture. He had to give it to Miruko, when she decided she wanted to keep quiet she actually pulled off the impossible and didn't make a scene. Since he figured he wasn't gonna find anything he didn't already know, he put his phone to the side and crossed his arms behind his head. Once Toga was passed off to him, he fully expected his precious peace and quiet would disappear in its entirety. It would be wise to savor it while he still could.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

2-A Student Spotlight

Shogeki Akira- Male

Birthday- 8-10

Quirk- Electricity

Hero Name- The Gigawatt Hero: Shock Jockey

Heroic Rank 1

Academic Rank 3

6 foot tall, angry, tired, and rarely irrational. Extremely overworked and irritable. Top of the class, with a strong belief in the law. From a long family of servicemen. Black hair past his shoulders, often tied back. Piercings in his eyebrow, nose, ear and lips.

Artwork by Brabbit

https://brabbitwdl16.tumblr.com/

[teddystrap]

[神なる君と] 天津国星縁尊 (Mikoto) + Final thoughts

Finally!!!!!!! I sacrificed one night’s sleep to finish this route, but I did it! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

I had originally planned to spread it out over a couple of days, but there was a lot of recap of stuff we already know here, so I got kind of impatient and rushed through some of it. So apologies if some of the minor details are off. I got all the important bits I think.

- Amatsu-kunihoshi-en-no-Mikoto -

Is it just me or does his silhouette give off a HAIR METAL / 1970s Alice Cooper vibe???

Mikoto is the former God of Kunihoshi Shrine who gave his position over to Sakuya for some reason. He is kind of a comedic/jokester character, but occasionally reveals a deeper and more serious side, much like Yakumo-nii-san.

His route happens if Sakuya chooses to help him grant his wish instead of investigating the school haunting rumours. Her first task is to time-skip slightly into the future, on hoshimatsuri night, to take a message for future-Mikoto. 

After she arrives she sees her future self running along the river searching for Mikoto and crying. Yorihito stops her from talking to her future self, and tells her that Mikoto is under the tree in the shrine. She finds him and passes along the message, which is to ask him if his wish has been granted.

He replies yes, but he wishes he had done a better job and made ‘her’ understand his actions.

Back in the present, she asks Mikoto what that’s all about but he doesn’t want to tell her. The rest of the route is basically her process of figuring out his secrets.

The side arcs in the other routes are briefly recapped here, except each one now reveals something important about Mikoto’s worldview. Following the order that they appear in:

*

I. Yorihito/Nisei

This time Mikoto tells them straightaway that Nisei has travelled here from the past through a time warp, and has to return. Sakuya accepts his views, and he tells her that every beautiful meeting has to eventually end in parting, and that the memories not only tie us to the future, but they also drive us forward... It’s kind of like his ‘going away speech’ in a way, but Sakuya doesn’t know that at this point.

II. The Sanshin incident

‘YOU no DOGEZA = VERY BEAUTIFUL datta-ze!’ #yuri

The Sanshin tell Sakuya that they sympathise with Mikoto, because he has been on the receiving end of much hate and anger from people whose wishes he wasn’t able to grant. 

Later Sakuya asks him if he hates people, and he turns the question back to her. She replies that people come in many different personalities, and he agrees. He thinks that it’s his misdeed that he wasn’t able to save everyone. But Sakuya feels that he has done nothing wrong - to which he thanks her and says that her kindness has saved him time and again.

III. Aki/Kunugi arc

‘You...! Be my grrrl.’ #kunugi

This ends in pretty much the same way as in Yakumo’s route. Aki tells Sakuya that things worked out for the best, because love between a human and a supernatural being is bound to end in tragedy. Sakuya realises that there are other alternative endings besides ‘happily ever after’. She ofc thinks of Mikoto,... and so she goes and asks him if he has ever been in love. He tells her that gods have to love everyone and everything equally (including Yorihito and miscroscopic bacteria lol).

Then he tells her that she is very important to him, and that he prays for her happiness.

IV. Fuu-san

After hearing rumours about evil spirit moaning in the old school building, Sakuya wonders if Rei is having stomachaches XD.

Anyway, here Fuu-san again confides in Sakuya about his friend Yuuya, and she wonders if there’s a way to ease his pain. Mikoto says it’s possible to erase his memories, but Fuu-san would refuse to do so. He believes that there are some painful histories that one just has to live with - and surprisingly Sakuya accepts his view. I feel like she is accepting too much in this route XD.

*

.: Going back to Mikoto’s backstory, we already know about the 1000-year-old love story between the miko and the Great Demon from the other routes, but we missed a few key points which are revealed here:

1. The sesshouseki itself is not the Demon’s remains. It’s a fragment of a star that was used to absorb the Demon’s curse/evil energy. And Mikoto is the living embodiment of this stone. 

2. The Demon’s remains are actually buried under the *magical tree* in the yard of the shrine. And his spirit communicates to Sakuya and others through this tree.

3. The 1000-year promise: Before the Demon’s death, Mikoto promised to watch over his remains to prevent the curse from escaping. This would only work for 1000 years, so after that time, Mikoto promised to absorb all the curse energy himself and disappear from the face of the earth.

What actually happened is that 10 years ago on hoshimatsuri night, when Mikoto was supposed fulfil his promise and disappear, he hesitated and started crying under the tree, because he was afraid of death. Child Sakuya came over to comfort him, and ended up in the energy transfer danger zone.

So, to save her from dying from the curse, Mikoto decided to make her a Goddess 10 years later to build ‘immunity’, and then on hoshimatsuri night transfer all her curse energy back onto himself and disappear as promised. At first he didn’t want to tell her all this, but she’s super しつこい so eventually he told her everything.

Sakuya found herself falling for Mikoto and didn’t want him to disappear, so she asked Yorihito how to prevent his plan from working using her Goddess powers. On hoshimatsuri night, she successfully stops Mikoto from fulfilling his promise, and seals it with a kiss.

Because the curse energy remained in her body, she grew weaker and weaker and died three months later. THE END.

...

Lol j/k.

Good end: Mikoto can’t get over Sakuya’s death, so 1 year later on hoshimatsuri, he decides to use the same time-travel method (and the power of Sakuya’s amulet) to go back in time and stop her from thwarting his epic disappearance plan. Everyone supports him - except Yakumo, who thinks that Mikoto shouldn’t force his own plan against her will. He wants Mikoto to do what makes them both happy, even if it means defying Fate.

Sooo, Mikoto goes back in time... to 11 years ago, before hoshimatsuri night. He finds child Sakuya on the shrine grounds, and gives her an amulet and sends her away, telling her NOT TO COME HERE TONIGHT. 

...With that taken care of, nighttime comes and he proceeds to fulfil his promise. But to his surprise, Sakuya shows up again - to give him back his amulet and tell him to stop being an #emosadface. He is all like #headpalm #Orz #omgthismustbeFATE.

In that moment he decides that, instead of letting the curse transfer take place this time, he will try to fight it so that no-one has to die. Basically the same thing that Yuzuru did for Yakumo in all his routes = Zzzzzzz (fight the curse while sleeping). At the last moment, he tells Sakuya that he’s going away for a while, but promises to meet again someday.

...

Loop back to the beginning of the game, except in this new alternative future, 17-year-old Sakuya has a more enlightened view on religion and shittier luck in omikuji. In the shrine, she meets Mikoto once again - and this time she remembers him from her childhood meeting, and he is willing to tell her the whole Kami Naru Kimi to story, with no secrets.

*

[Thoughts] Let me first take a moment to marvel at the coherence of the whole story...... 

...Ok. Moving on.

Mikoto’s route wasn’t as much a tearjerker as I thought it would be. Or maybe I was just too tired/brain-dead to cry at 3am _(:3」∠)_. It also doesn’t feel much like a romance love story. I mean Mikoto was preparing for his *ultimate demise* and in no mood for a relationship for the most part lol. So a lot of Sakuya’s actions/thoughts felt very one-sided.  

It was nice that the recaps of the four side story-arcs were kept short (I guess for the benefit of those who didn’t see all of them? not sure if possible to get to the hidden route without unlocking all four events, but anyway).

Piecing together the info from the other routes, I had some guesses as to what the ‘full picture’ was... but this route totally took it in a different direction than what I was expecting. I kind of figured from Sakuya’s surname (「神」 and 「木」) that she’s the descendant/reincarnate of the spirit who lives in the tree, who must be Mikoto’s old lover from 1000 years ago. Lolol was I wrong about that XDDD - although I think my version would’ve made a more romantic story. ^_~

Overall, I like how the route challenged/changed Mikoto’s views about the impenetrability of Fate. You come away with the feeling of understanding a lot more: why gods exist, the true purpose of prayer, why individual wishes are/aren’t fulfilled, the role of free will, etc.

‘I have come to show you the Truth... with my really nice hair’ ;)

(It does make me sad that in the good ending version of events, some of the characters probably never got a chance to meet - e.g. Narumi & Mikoto, Yuzuru/Rei and everyone else.)

As I feared, there was no clear explanation for Rei’s existence. In the ending it’s revealed that he is/was a 生霊 (a soul that got separated from a living body), and that after Narumi failed to send him off to the other world during hoshimatsuri, he ended up in hospital and was able to recover his body (and some temporary memory loss) with Aki’s help.

...Which STILL doesn’t explain who he is, and how he landed in this condition, AND in his own ending why he disappeared for 10 years and came back as a living human... Unless I missed something in my haste, but I doubt it. Otomate was probably counting on the fact that nobody would fall in love with Rei so nobody cares. But I want some answers damnit!!

Also, Yorihito makes a brief appearance here in his human form. #wtf O_o

...This is probably where Yakumo’s catchphrase ‘細かいことは気にしなくていい’ comes in handy. スルーしようと思います...

IN SUMMARY, ranking of routes from favourite to ...less favourite (there were no bad routes, I honestly enjoyed all of them and I thought all the characters were awesome in their own way ¯\_(ツ)_/¯):

Yuzuru > Yakumo > Mikoto >/≃ Narumi ≃ Rei

Ranking of side arcs from fav to less fav.:

Fuu-san > Aki/Kunugi > Sanshin > Yorihito/Nisei

ハイ終わり― +(人*´∀`)+゜:。*゜+

*

[N.B.] I actually started KamiKimi as a break from Diabolik Lovers More Blood - I’m about 3/4 of the way through Mukami Ruki’s route, and can confirm that this guy has no redeeming features whatsoever. It’s doubtful whether I’ll be able to sit through the rest of his story to get to his (hopefully sweet) ending. At least KamiKimi was a nice world where Sakurai Takahiro’s character is actually ahem *NOT AN ASSHOLE*.

(Low bar, I know, but DLMB challenges my view of common decency every time I open it...)

(Also Mikoto cried/had many emotional outbursts towards the end of the route, which is a side of Sakurai-sensei that I have never heard before. Not sure how I feel tbh. Like Sakuya in the game, I actually prefer his funny/lighthearted persona more.)

Also I’ll probably be busy with exams + school stuff for most of this month, so it would be a good idea to go for more fun/relaxing games that are not so heavy and tragic. 

One recent discovery is an old game by Broccoli called 「恋戦隊 LOVE& PEACE the P.S.P」 , which is based on the Power Rangers concept (all my childhood dreams are coming true...! *≧ω≦*) ... I previewed a chapter or so and it seems absolutely hilarious, although it’s not fully voiced so the reading part will be a P in the A but HIT ME UP YO.

And ofc, there will always be drama CDs to save the day...

[modelronpagame]

Hate-speech is shitty but so are you || Eiji || Re; Rika

Eiji stood there, dazed and unable to act. Were they right? Was it Rika? He didn’t feel comfortable damning someone like that, he just... he was confused and felt too overwhelmed to move a muscle. 

Yet... it was true. Rika was responsible. 

He doesn’t understand his feelings. First he has a hollowness, a deep pain deep in his chest that seeped into his veins, paralyzing him. His body felt like lead, and even trying to stand and pay attention felt taxing and just dumb. Yet, now, all of a sudden... The hollowness is replaced by a raging fire, and his entire body suddenly feels on edge.  

No, this is something he’ll have to control. He refuses to hurt anyone, even the person who killed his friend. 

She’ll get her punishment soon enough. 

“...Why?”, he just asks, his voice laced with venom. That he cannot control - all of his energy is going into keeping his body still, unused to this kind of... rage. “Why did you hurt him?” 

“I was willing to help you. I caused a whole fuss, I insulted a friend trying to defend you, de Silva. I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, a chance - and you go above and beyond to kill someone who did not even deserve it? Not only that, but you proceed to act as if nobody even tried to accept you? I wanted to believe in you, like a fool. I acted out of line over it, and you make it sound as if nobody tried to do anything?”, he accuses, his voice rumbling and threatening. Every ounce of his being seems like he wants to cause her misery and pain - seems like it’s easy to forget how scary the guy can actually be. Plot twist; Eiji's looking real damn scary right now, and he doesn't even need to raise his voice for it. "This selfish cycle of hurting others for selfish gain, this attitude of acting the victim...."

“I despise you. I absolutely despise you, de Silva. I do not care what your reasoning is, you hurt my friend, you made him suffer, you abused his kindness--” he cuts himself off to take a shaky breath, looking down, trembling from anger. From restraint. He feels his vision going blurry again... Damnit. He has to figure out his emotions. He can’t continue being so... unsightly all the time. Though he just ignores the tears this time. Whatever. Fuck it. Fuck. It. 

“...I... it is difficult for me to restraint myself right now. But your reasoning is foolish. Selfish. And you were fully prepared to sacrifice someone else over it, too. And you call us assholes?”, he rumbles, trying not to sound too hateful. Keyword ‘tries’. Also, look at that, Rika. You made Eiji curse. 

"Your mother may have grieved over your secret, but because of your foolish, impulsive attack, you've not only caused your own mother to lose her daughter, but you killed an innocent person who only wanted to help. There is no way I will ever forgive you, not even if Hell freezes over, de Silva." 

....Yikes. 

[alkhale]

that soulmate au was sooo angsty but it was SO GOOD :)) thanks for another amazing chapter!! ❤️❤️❤️ btw did you watch voltron season 7 yet?

you’re absolutely welcome!!! thank you so much for reading and yes I have and GOD I HAVE A LOT TO SAY BEAR WITH ME ANON

spoilers for voltron season 7 below tread carefully

I love Voltron a lot, as I’m sure a lot of you already know with the stuff I repost/reblog and the fact that I’ve gotten off my ass to write for it is another. Recently, Voltron’s shift into more serious topics and the fact that this is war and all is amazing, the animation these recent seasons have been absolutely A1 and shit, that fight with Shiro and Keith? Stunning work, it was beautiful and heartfelt and everything and I went into season 7 super stoked and hyped up, stayed up till midnight and everything to watch it

when adam died, had to stop the episode half way because i was so pissed and sad and confused that i just went to sleep and vowed to finish it in the morning

a lot of it is because i never thought queerbaiting could be a thing with voltron. i never expected them to announce shiro was gay and when they did i was like, wow, that’s so cool they’re confirming stuff and coming out with it, and he has a boo too? hell yeah. the thing is, the voltron writers and studio don’t owe us anything with what they come up with. it’s how we don’t expect anything from bnha that’s necessarily progressive and what not because it’s shounen, you know? we’re here for fun character development, cool fights, cringe fanservice at times and the works. it’s why no one was burning down Jump because naruto and sasuke weren’t madly in love, these creators don’t have to have this kind of content, and i’m fine with that. But hyping it up and being super proud about it only to not have anything to show? yeah, that is a let down. (i know apparently the fingers need to be pointed at dreamworks but honestly i’m kinda just numb and hoping for redemption in season 8 otherwise of the stars and you is going to have some heavy changes later on with what i think should’ve happened)

weirdly enough, i never had a solid ship watching voltron. i was pretty game for anything, as long as it had good and reasonable development. I really liked the idea of klance especially after season 3 because, omg, development, i never saw allura and lance being a thing because it was always so comedic and brushed aside and never felt right to begin with, honestly. Lance could’ve ended up with Pidge or they all could’ve just been a happy family with no real pairings and i still would’ve been fine. but that shit with suddenly turning a platonic, trust worthy friendship into a romantic thing with no development whatsoever and that kacxa shit i ain’t even gonna touch that because like

what the fuck?

HE HAD FOUR OR FIVE INTERACTIONS WITH HER AND OVER HALF WERE ON OPPOSITE SIDES AND LMAO NOW I’M SUPPOSED TO SWALLOW THIS LOVE PILL YALL SHOVING DOWN MY THROAT?

no thanks. i love acxa’s character design and think she’s always been kick ass but she deserves more than a sloppy romance that didn’t need to be necessary

also tired of lance not getting the development he deserves and being written off as second hand comedy relief and very tired of everyone calling him and idiot because my precious baby was ready to fucking die twice and he deserves more god damnit

(will also not stand for how keith suddenly became an asshole this season like, i’m sorry what?)

i’m kinda just holding out hope that season 8 is gonna come and slap amazing development and storyline in my face and the voltron writers are gonna be like “hahaha, you all thought we’d shove that crap down your throats? here’s the good shit”

because all the mad stuff aside, i still love this show a lot, and i still am willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. i don’t think all this writing and these hidden meanings behind scenes are going to be dumped down the drain, i think lance’s development is still on the horizon, and maybe we’re all just overreacting and jumping guns because like i said, voltron’s gonna slap us in the face with some clutch amazing writing and development (and lance is gonna realize what he needs is not the rebound but the angry hothead who left for awhile but he’s back now and he’s not leaving again Lance dw)

adam and shiro deserved the world and i wished we could’ve seen them be happy because i understand the argument that we all built up this beautiful relationship we knew nothing about but, was killing his ex-fiance really necessary to teach shiro about war? i think he fucking knows. he lost and arm and suffered immense abuse from his captors, was tortured and cloned and died and sorry, i think he gets the point. Shiro deserved to be happy and no one can convince me otherwise.

Adam’s alive and lost in the desert because he doesn’t know earth has been liberated you can’t convince me otherwise.

i also wrote this because i was so mad and sad about the whole thing, it’s gonna be a small fic on ao3 soon because i’m still sad about it :(

Their first meeting isn’t the kind that they deserve.

But it’s what they didn’t know they needed.

Shiro tugged the helmet off his head, exiting out of the flight simulator as he sighed. It’d been a rough decision to intercept the ship on his right wing from engaging enemy fire, but it’d been his call as the head of the formation and the one he deemed necessary. I got everyone out of it alive, didn’t I?

Shiro ran fingers through the fluffy tufts of his hair that still stuck out from the neat cut he kept close to the sides. His eyes strayed to the other cadets exiting the simulators and he straightened, prepared to line up alongside them for their debriefing. Great things were expected of him, and if he wanted to do this right (he had to do this right) then he needed to hit the ground running–

“Hey, asshole.”

Shiro stopped in his tracks. Several cadets beside him froze at the drop of a clear confrontational tone. Shiro’s shoulders automatically squared, his back straightening at the aggressive tone and preparing himself for the worse as he calmly turned on his heel. Must be the wing pilot– “Listen, I know-”

Shiro felt his whole world slow.

His eyes were a soft, fiery sort of hazel. He couldn’t help the split second thought of wondering what they’d look like in better circumstances. His skin was a gentle hue of milk chocolate, smoothed over lean arms and a slightly shorter stature than himself. His hair was a shade different against his skin, fluffy and sticking up in tufts from where his helmet had pressed it in and his glasses were askew across his face as he marched straight toward Shiro and wow, that’s a very pretty shade of hazel-

“Next time you decide to make a decision like that,” his fellow cadet bit out, shoving his helmet roughly into Shiro’s arms and he felt air escape his lungs with a soft whoosh as he stumbled back a step. “Do us all a favor and stay in your own lane.”

Shiro blinked dumbly, realizing the hazel in his eyes had flecks of green and the cadet scowled, irritated and grumpy and reminding him an awful lot of a cat that’d been caught in the rain and didn’t want to admit it. Words stumbled over his tongue and failed to escape past his lips as he held the other cadet’s helmet and the cadet scoffed, rolling his eyes as he turned on his heel to leave.

don’t leave don’t leave don’t leave yet

namenamename

say something!

“There’s no lanes in space,” Shiro said dumbly.

A few of the cadets beside him snickered and the one with milk chocolate hair and skin merely scowled, flashing him one final glare over his shoulder before he stalked off, completely ignoring the fact that there was still a debriefing to be had.

Shiro quickly realized he needed a proper explanation to the commander now walking toward them as to why one of their crew was missing.

And that he needed that cadet’s name, now.

i kinda headcanon that Adam was a rough, hotheaded kind of guy who is actually super soft and dorky and sweet but it just depends how he gets to know you and how you guys start off on the right foot (shiro didn’t)

Shiro, being straightforward and awkward and Shiro totally falls flat on his face for the guy that’s trying to match him step for step and he’s always seen Adam as an equal and never someone below him and he’s so in love for him its hilarious (half the crew knows but they just don’t say anything) Adam is totally oblivious and thinks Shiro’s just pitying him because Adam works really hard but Shiro always manages to pull just a bit ahead so Adam sees him as a rival but it’s actually a one-sided rivalry with the his “rival” actually being completely in love with him.

- yeah i’m still really sad about them

[crispysolidcake]

Wishlist for RWBY Volume 6.

Well G’day! How you going? Come in, grab a seat and a drink. Actually, I possess nether seats nor drinks, supply them yourselves. However, what I can give you is what I would like to see in Volume 6.

Now I’m gonna start with a disclaimer: Just gonna share my opinion that’s it.

So, we’ve all seen Volumes 1-5 at this point, and it’s had some ups and downs, however I’ve got some ideas on how things can be moved along to make for a better story going forward.

Main points:

Okay so here is where I just wanna get some main points outta the way and go into some more detail later.

·         Make team RWBY are the MAJOR focal point for this season.

·         Make other stories lines and some other characters, less present (I’ll get more into this later).

·         More fight scenes (I mean come on).

·         Show more of the world, if we’re going to Atlas, show the military and technological might, the upper-class opulence, the anti-faunus sentiment.

·         More insight into our villains, more specifically Salem, what’s she wants and all that, what’s her history with Ozpin all that sort of stuff.

Now that I’ve got my main points outta the way I’m going to look more at characters and storylines I’d like to see.  

Character storylines:

The following sections just gonna be about potential arcs, shipping and all that noise comes later. So how I’ve split this up is the what I want to see from the major characters, and following that what I want to see from supporting characters. Now, who I want in the main arcs is just opinion, not attacks on anyone’s preference in characters.  

Furthermore, I probably won’t get to cover everyone,  

The Main Crew aka ‘The Big Players’

Ruby:

Our girl needs some major development, she’s a silver eyed warrior, an object of prophecy and still doesn’t know anything about what that means. We’ve seen her be scared by just an image of Salem, how is she dealing with that? can she deal with that? Really, I’d just like to see Ruby go through some changes in the coming volume, things that force he to change maybe some changes not for the better, force her to confront the fact of her own importance to this great prophecy. I’d like to see her be changed by the things she’s seen and things she’s forced to do.

It’s nothing specific, I just want her to be more fleshed out, make her feel like a someone who’s in over their heads and is forced to bear the burden of a destiny she doesn’t understand.

Weiss:

We get a little more specific from here. If we are going to Atlas have Weiss confront her family. They’re a pretty messed up bunch and I just want to see her try to confront what her family has become. Have her try and re-connect with her alcoholic mother, try and redeem her smug little brother (I just want Whitely to be more than a one-dimensional dick okay?) and have her try and get Winter to help her save what’s left of their family.

Jacques however, he can go hang, no redemption for that douche. Really, I want her to try and rebuild her family’s legacy and regain the honour their family name once held, before her Dad made their family name synonymous with cruelty, destruction and greed.

Blake & Yang:

I’m pairing these guys together because of one simple fact:

The Volume 5 reunion was weak as fuck.

It’s obvious that these two still have some difficulties around one another, Yang’s still pissed that Blake ran, and Blake is still ashamed of herself for running.

Bring them back together, but just don’t rush it.

Apologies and Forgiveness are hard, especially if it’s someone you trusted above all others, Blake was Yang’s rock, someone she could confide in, someone she shared her deepest secrets and desires with. When a relationship like that falls apart, it’s difficult to put back together.

I want to see them heal, to come back together because they need one another, show that Yang wants to forgive Blake, buts show her struggled with how to do it. Show Blake’s desire to be forgiven but her worry that her crazy ex Adam may try to rip what’s precious from her again.

bring them together again, but make it happen at a sensible pace.

Oscar/Ozpin:

I don’t mind either of these guys but I want see conflict here. Oscar is at heart, objectively a good person and objectively, Ozpin isn’t. Show how they clash over a difference of morals, Ozpin being prepared to do anything to win including use the people around him as pawns. While showing that Oscar isn’t prepared to use people in the same way, show the differing ideologies clash within the kid and how that could affect him physically as well as mentally.

Also, have Oscar confront Ozpin on taking control during his fight with Hazel, snatching control away from the kid, it’s pretty messed up.

Qrow:

He’s in a good place.

Add more drinking and snark and he’ll be fine.

Salem:

What is she? What does she want? How powerful is she? What’s the beef with Ozpin? What does she want with Ruby?

Tell me the story damn it!!

Cinder:

As much as I want her to be dead for sinking my main ship (R.I.P Arkos, gone but not forgotten), she isn’t going to be.

I want more wrath from Cinder, bring her fury down onto Ruby and her friends, have her become more and more obsessed with hurting Ruby as much as possible, in anyway and by any means. Have her hurt whoever or destroy whatever to get to her.

Her continuing alliance with Salem is something I want looked at to. Cinder isn’t a follower, she’s a leader and wants to be in charge, being under Salem’s thumb must drive her to insanity. Bring elements of a mutual distrust and expected betrayal into how they interact with one another.

The Side Crew aka ‘The B Team’

Now I like a lot of the characters in these categories, but they’ve all shifted the focus of the story from where I think it should be. So, here’s what I want from them. Going to be more of a lightening round for these guys.  

J-NR:

-          Have them confront P-money’s family, whatever that may lead to, either some closure or more heart break.

-          More Renora fluff damnit.

-          Have Ren and Nora have some focus for a while. Not to say I don’t like Jaune and he shouldn’t be used, not at all, more that Ren and Nora feel underutilized.

-          I like angst knight Jaune, I’d like some more please.

-          Give them something to do, have them spilt off from the A team, maybe send them back to Beacon to find out what happening there with that Relic, something that can be tied back into the story later (maybe a volume or so down the track).

-          Visit the Arc family damn it, I’ve waited for so long.

-          All in All, I love these dorks, but they take focus away from the main team, and I think for the benefit of the story, they need to take a back seat for a while.

The Villain Squad:

-          Make Watts actually do something.

-          Make Tyrian actually do something.

-          More over the top obsessive Hazel,

-          Show some doubt in Salem’s and her cause from Emerald and Mercury. They are primarily there for Cinder, and without her there for the foreseeable future, do they still act loyal to Salem or are they gonna split and try to link back up with Cinder?

-          I’m neutral to Raven being involved more. She’s in the villain area cause she’s kind of a villain okay don’t kill me Raven fans.

-          Neo present in some capacity.

-          Adam, everyone’s favourite douche canoe. I want more from this guy, but more of the bad shit he’s known for. Give him a Michael Myers/Slasher movie villain vibe. Have him try to destroy everything and everyone Blake cares about because he is not a good person. Play up the fact that he is a genocidal freak with some issues, that’s where I find him at his best.

  The Menagerie Squad:

-          I really don’t know what to do with Sun, Ilia, Ghira and Kali. While I like these guys, I struggle to put my finger on where I would want them to be in the coming volume. Maybe send Sun and Ilia with the main team, but I won’t be offended if they don’t go with Team RWBY.

-          I just don’t know what I’d like them to do.

“The Dead Guys”

Before I stop talking about individual characters, I’d like to address the two P’s in the room and people’s desire to have them brought back to life.

While I like the idea of Pyrrha and Penny being brought back to life, I think it would come off as too forced. If they come back later down the line, then sure that’d be great, but I think that would once again steer the focus away from where it should be.

 The Ship Stuff.

Now I’ve never been a big shipper, there have been and will be ships I like, but it’s never really been the focus of the show for me.

I’ve always been more invested in the story and world than the relationships for the most part.

Having said that, here is what I want for some of the relationships going forward.

-          Maybe some Blacksun and Bumblebee conflict? Sunnybees if they really want to make my day.

-          Ships involving Ruby have always been a big point of contention its seems. However, I’d just like to see her grow and develop more as a character before tacking her onto someone else.  

-          In the same vein, don’t make Jaune hook up with anyone, he hasn’t gotten over Pyrrha yet, just let sleeping dogs lie.

-          As mentioned previously, more Renora fluff. That is all.

Conclusion aka ‘TL; DR’

So basically, I’d like to round off by saying, while the show has had some shortcomings in the past, I still think that it has potential. But I’d like it to go a bring its focus in a little bit, have a concise and small story for volume or two and bring additional elements and characters back into the story later.

If you got through this pile of mental vomit, good on ya, go have a drink, you earned it.  

I’ll be around, maybe spreading more piles of mental vomit, or maybe writing some fan fiction or shitposty AU’s, once I remember how to write anything that’s not an essay or an article.  

Anyways, see ya’s around.

[psychocalixtelove]

Maus and Wolfie

For @ryakbm123

A/N: I changed this from the original idea that I had, but quite honestly, I think this is a better idea.

********

Luisa knew she had to protect Beca. From the moment they met, Luisa knew she had to protect Beca at all costs because if she died, so did Luisa. To sum up the background, Luisa was half veela, half werewolf, and Beca, who was half fairy, was Luisa's mate. From birth, they were decided to be soulmates, but only Luisa knew it.

Neither knew of the other's supernatural abilities and it was this lack of knowledge that kept their friendship going. Well, now that they were almost full adults, they were more like friends with certain benefits where the rule was only after drinking in excess.

So one could probably guess where they were after two hours of drinking and dancing with other high schoolers in the middle of the forest. But the funny thing about being supernatural, alcohol barely affected any of them, or not at all if fully supernatural. And not to mention the increased sex drive.

Luisa held Beca underneath the thighs as she hoisted the smaller girl up against the tree in front of her and wrapped the small legs around her waist. Beca was fervently attacking Luisa's lips and grinding against her friend in order to get relief from the intense desire between her legs.

"Do you want me to?" Luisa whispered in the fairy's ear while grinding erotically into her. The blonde wanted to check if her friend was up to having sex because she was slightly drunk. The fairy wrapped her arms around the blonde's shoulders and breathed, "I'm all yours baby." Luisa smirked at the pet name and kissed up the slender neck she wanted to ravage so badly.

"Then prepare for all I've got." The statement couldn't have been hotter with the pure seduction dripping from the werewolf's deep voice. In an instant, Beca found her pants undone and Luisa's fingers inside of her, going at an inhuman pace. The bass from the speakers at the party a mile away could be heard from where they were and Luisa used this as the basis for her pace.

Though, before she knew it, Beca had climaxed and came all over her hand. Luisa was delighted nonetheless, but she wished it lasted longer. A hungry look overtook Beca's eyes and she forced herself down off of Luisa's hips. She flipped their positions so the taller was against the tree. The smaller had already undone her friend's shirt and was kissing down the toned abs she envied so much.

She nipped at them a second before looking up to see the half veela with her eyes closed and hands gripping the tree tightly. In truth, Luisa was slowly transforming and she had her eyes closed because they were glowing blue like they usually did when she shifted. Her nails had turned black and grew to a point that she had to keep hidden so she held the tree for support.

This only happened around Beca. Since the half human was her mate, Luisa had a difficult time covering up her minor shifts that would indicate she wasn't human. And times like this were even more difficult because her mate was touching and kissing intimate places on her body. Her black skinny jeans were opened and pulled down enough to expose herself to the kneeling Beca.

The brunette ran a finger through the blonde's folds to elicit a response and got a violent scream with a sudden hand in her hair. "God, please Maus!" Luisa made sure to keep her arm stiff so she didn't do anything stupid and cradled the brunette's head in her hand. Taking it as pleading, Beca didn't wait any longer to provide the contact so desperately wanted.

A loud cry came from Luisa's mouth as she felt the fairy's magic tongue and fingers go to work on her and in almost no time at all, she shuddered dramatically with her orgasm. Beca hurried to get Luisa cleaned up because her favorite part of these hookups were the cuddling afterward.

She enjoyed the sense of protection she got from being in the long arms of her friend. She knew there was something between them but she didn't know what. She had the slight suspicion that Luisa knew, but she couldn't get the blonde to say anything. Luisa purposefully didn't tell Beca because if she confessed her feelings and got rejected, she simply died of a broken heart.

All werewolves thought the idea was horrendous, but the few that actually did die were the brave ones. Luisa's father, for example, had confessed his love (and consequently his werewolf abilities) for Luisa's mother Victoria three days before their wedding. Victoria immediately reciprocated the feelings because she herself was a veela who had a similar concept.

Luisa loved her parents and their story even more, which made her wonder how her and Beca's story would turn out. As she laid down on the ground, the wolf took the fairy into her arms and held her close enough to press a kiss to her forehead. The smaller girl kissed her cuddler on the lips and settled onto the warm chest beneath her. Luisa thanked the heavens that her shifts had gone back to normal.

"Do you ever wonder if two people could be more than friends?" Luisa asked, hinting at them. Beca lifted her head and looked the other woman in the eyes. She cupped the soft cheek in front of her and kissed the creature the cheek belonged to. "Well if I was completely sober, I'd tell you that I don't want a relationship with anybody. But since I'm slightly drunk, I'm going to tell you that all of that is bullshit."

Luisa laughed at the small girl's response and kissed her again. Luisa did have a chance with her friend to be more, she just had to be wary about how to tell her.

Suddenly, the two heard low growling heading toward them. Luisa especially. They sat up in a rush and looked around frantically. Beca couldn't see anything, but Luisa knew who was coming for them. Pieter. He had a vendetta against Luisa for betraying him and their pack, which resulted in Luisa's Omega status. Pieter was the alpha of the pack now and one of his goals was to kill Luisa and her mate who Pieter knew was Beca.

A collection of three black wolves, one with red eyes, the others with yellow. Pieter and two betas, Aksel and Heidi, stalked toward the werewolf and her mate eerily slowly like typical entrances in Teen Wolf. Beca was instantly scared, but Luisa stayed where she was. The wolves got closer until Luisa stood up.

"Run, Beca. Now, Beca! Run!" Luisa shouted, commanding Beca away. She didn't want to expose herself as a werewolf in front of the one person that could kill her with one word. Nodding her head, Beca took off for Luisa's house as fast as she could. She worried about Luisa no doubt, but she trusted Luisa enough to know that she'd never leave her without knowing she'd come back.

Luisa watched her friend's receding figure before turning back to the small gathering of wolves. "You don't have to do this," she tried convincing Pieter. Since he was in shifted form, he communicated telepathically. "I know, Lu. But now I want to." Pieter jumped at Luisa with his jaws spread wide in the hopes of killing her immediately, but she grabbed his jaw and threw him away in time.

When he recovered, he barked once and the others knew what to do. He was going to kill Beca while Aksel and Heidi killed Luisa. The half veela knew she had to act fast before her mate was killed. She jumped into the air, did a somersault, and landed in her full shift.

Her white hair glistened against the moonlight like fresh milk at dawn as her Omega blue eyes sparkled like ice. Her fur had dark undertones supported by the natural eyeliner around her eyes to give a more drastic effect. She drove her paws into the ground and threw herself at the two wolves. She clawed Aksel in the shoulder while she got a good bite on Heidi's arm. Both whimpered at the pain, but didn't stop.

They tried to go for her throat with all their might. Aksel jumped up from behind while Heidi went straight for her. All Luisa did was roll out of the way so Aksel jumped onto Heidi and seriously injured them both. Seeing they were unable to fight anymore, Luisa ran as fast as she could to find Beca. Luckily for her, she knew where Beca was all the time because of their mate bond.

She didn't stop running in the direction she sensed Beca, not even when she heard a ear-splitting shriek and a large burst of light come from a not so far distance. She only sped up, despite the pain her lungs were in. When she got there, she found Beca nearly passed out with Pieter back to his human form and unconscious. No matter how much she wanted to tear him to bits right then, she controlled herself and went to see if Beca was alright.

The brunette's original reaction was to back away in fear that the white wolf would hurt her. When Luisa realized this, she stopped herself and knew now was the time. To Beca's surprise, the white wolf made to stand up and when the creature was fully erect, Luisa stood before her with a few scratches on her. The smaller girl's eyes went wide and her breathing quickened before she fainted and went unconscious. Luisa looked at both her unconscious mate and ex-alpha and said, "Damnit."

********

"Just take her home, Luisa. There's nothing else you can do," Victoria explained, running a hand through her white blonde hair. Luisa held half unconscious Beca in her arms and was pleading with her mother to let the girl stay the night, but her mother knew better than that. "Please, Mutter. I have to protect her. She's in danger," Luisa begged, tears obvious in her voice.

"Why would she be in danger? Have you told her? Please tell me you didn't tell her." Victoria was worried now. If her daughter had told Beca about their mate hood, Victoria couldn't imagine what pain she'd feel.

"I didn't tell her about that, I just . . . transformed in front of her." The shock on Victoria's face was evident and she couldn't hide her disapproval. "I'm sorry, Mama. We came under attack by Pieter-"

Victoria held a hand up to silence her daughter and thought for a moment. She went to the inebriated girl in Luisa's arms, saw the consciousness coming back, and explained quickly, "I'm going to wipe as much of her memory of this night as I can because I can't remove life-changing information, then you're going to take her back home and stay the night on her roof. I know how weird that sounds, but if you insist on protecting her."

Luisa nodded her head and watched her mother perform her magic. Victoria waved a hand over Beca's face, which put her to sleep again, and removed all the recollections she could, but one. That was the moment Luisa shifted from wolf to human. Victoria tried her best remove part of it, but she could only remove the element of reality to it so the memory now seemed like a dream.

"Now go. Make it seem like she was never at that party."

"Thanks, Mum."

********

"Hey Becs! That party last night was fun, wasn't it?" Chloe asked, watching Beca gather her stuff from her locker. Beca grabbed her last binder and shut her locker fiercely. "No, Chlo! For the last time, I wasn't at that party." Beca was pissed. Why couldn't Chloe understand that she hadn't been there? Because Chloe saw her there and thanks to Veela Victoria, Beca couldn't remember it.

Chloe sensed the indignant response and knowing her friend enough, knew not to question it until Beca had figured it out herself. "Well, I'll see you in fourth, I guess," Chloe dismissed, walking to her first period. Beca huffed out a heavy breath, ran her fingers through her hair, and leaned back against the lockers. Luisa took notice of the distress and walked down the hall to greet her best friend, whom she may or may not have been watching over since the night before.

"Hallo, Maus. Are you okay?" Luisa sounded genuinely concerned, and when Beca looked up to her, she saw a familiar look in the blue eyes. A vague memory or dream came to mind for Beca and all she could see now was a brilliant white wolf with piercing blue eyes. She was inherently scared but irrationally so she didn't understand her reaction.

Beca flushed of all color and her grip on her books tightened to the point her knuckles turned white. Luisa could tell this reaction was because of her so she didn't step closer but she asked, "Are you alright, Maus?" Beca managed to snap herself out of the fear she was in and demanded, "Tell me what you are, now. I know you're not human so what are you?"

Luisa wasn't expecting the question to come out like that but she answered honestly. "I'm half werewolf, half veela." Beca's jaw dropped a considerable amount at the confession, but she was more in terror about the memories coming back to her. All she could see were red eyes chasing her and gnashing teeth trying to tear her throat out. She realized the creature after her the night before was also a werewolf she knocked unconscious with all the magic she had.

"W-Why did you save me?" was all Beca could ask. She knew they were friends with occasional benefits, but was that enough to risk one's life? She didn't think so, but now she'd find out why. "Because . . . you're my mate." Luisa stared at the ground while she scratched the back of her head. Beca was in shock once more. "What does that mean?"

"It's means that since we were born, me specifically, we were destined to meet and fall in love, etc." Beca was still very confused about what Luisa meant and used her eyes to ask for more information. Luisa's heartbeat started beating faster and faster and she knew that was because she had told Beca, but not the most important part. Luisa grabbed Beca's hand and dragged her to the nearest bathroom that happened to be empty.

"What are you-" Beca asked, getting cut off by Luisa. The blonde raised her friend's hand until it came to rest over her heart, which was racing. The brunette was silenced immediately. "Wh-What . . . " was all the fae could mutter, though the veela knew exactly what she meant to say. "I love you, Maus. I have loved you since the day we met," Luisa clarified, holding Beca's hand in hers.

The sincerity in Luisa's words and sparkling blue irises was met with awkwardness and red cheeks. Beca retracted her hand uncomfortably and shifted in her place as she looked down at the ground. "I'm, I'm sorry. I . . . I . . . I need to think about this," Beca confessed before turning and leaving Luisa. Though her heart slowed down, the blonde could barely breathe and barely regulate anything with her body.

A sweat started to form on her upper lip and she felt extremely hot all of a sudden. She removed her hoodie and bent over the sink. She gripped the edge tightly as she felt sweat roll down her back in cold lines. A shift was coming over her that she couldn't stop and when she opened her eyes to look in the mirror, her eyes shined the usual blue, but her pupil began to cover her irises slowly. In three days, they'd be completely covered and she'd die of a broken heart.

Tears swam down her cheeks and she went to wipe them away, but accidentally cut herself on the claws that had grown from the shift. She hurried to fix herself up and retract her nails so she appeared normal, then headed to class. By the time she got there, Beca was sitting in their normal seats, but she knew better than to rush her death so she sat in the far back corner. She resigned herself to stay away from Beca until she passed on so the brunette had no clue.

********

As the three days passed, Luisa became weaker and weaker for several reasons. The first being Beca's indirect rejection. That had been a factor since the beginning. But in more recent times, Pieter and his pack had shown up at her house late at night while she was sleeping and tried to kill her out of revenge. Her father and mother obviously protected her and the house enough to fend them off.

Finally, even living made her weaker. The morning of the third day, Victoria made all the meat they had in the house and had Luisa eat as much of it as she could for strength, but that didn't stop the older veela from crying her eyes out as her daughter left for school. So Luisa wandered the halls close to dead and was left vulnerable.

Seeing weakness, Pieter casually passed her and forced her onto the wall. He picked her up by the shirt collar and brought her up so her feet weren't touching the ground. "I would love to rip your throat out now, but all I have to do now is wait because your little mate did that for me," he sneered, dropping her like a rag doll. She fell to her knees because he couldn't catch herself in time and collected her backpack.

She stood, glanced down the hall, and saw Beca's face. She was helpless at seeing her best friend so defenseless and had visible tears in her eyes. Beca subconsciously knew she was the cause of Luisa's lamentable state and wanted desperately to have her friend back, but she still didn't understand one thing. And she was determined to understand.

They broke eye contact and Luisa rushed home. She didn't talk to her mother more than, "Hi" before she stayed in her bed to wait for her heart to give out. Tears ran across the bridge of her nose as she cried herself to sleep and formed a pounding headache. She could hear her parents moving around downstairs and could hear the doorbell ring. She didn't know who it was nor did she care, she just rolled onto her back and drifted off to half sleep.

"Hey, Beca. It's always nice to see you," Victoria invites, opening the door for the small girl. Luisa only heard what was going on and didn't react fast enough because the next thing she heard was, "She's up in her room if you want to talk to her." The door was opened by Beca and in an instant, Luisa was standing up by her window with her back pressed firmly against the wall.

"Wait, Luisa. I just want to talk to you," Beca pleaded, shutting and locking the door.

"About what? Because it's clear you don't want me anymore."

"I never said that, Luisa. I just needed to think and . . . "

"And what?" Luisa was sounding a bit hopeful that Beca would just confess her love and she wouldn't die.

"I still don't understand something." All the hope Luisa had dissipated in that sentence and she covered her face with her hands. Beca saw the sad resolution and quickly tried to refute it. "I just need to know if you're able to control yourself while in your wolf form." The redundant look on Luisa's face should have answered Beca's question, but her not being on to pick up on social cues, she didn't get it.

"What do you expect me to do? Transform and not kill you?" Luisa asked, hoping to get the conversation finished. Beca looked around awkwardly before settling her eyes on her best friend across the room. "If that works, yes." Luisa's heart beat faster than ever before and she worried about overworking it with the transformation, but the spark of hope in the back of her mind seemed to calm it down.

"Fine, but you have to leave afterward," Luisa agreed, feeling Beca would leave after seeing her wolf. The brunette nodded her head and watched in anticipation as Luisa got angry enough to trigger a full shift. The fae was surprised enough by the large white wolf in front of her that she backed up against the door and slid down until she was siting on the floor. Luisa, currently an angry wolf, stalked toward the small girl slowly as she attempted to calm herself down to not scare Beca away.

The brunette force herself to calm down so she didn't immediately run out of the room and held out her hand to touch Luisa's snout. The wolf growled lowly when she saw the hand, but continued to pad toward the girl. When Beca's hand made contact with Luisa's surprisingly soft fur, both were tranquil. They understood how they were destined to love each other and how their hearts beat in sync as if it had done so for all eternity.

Luisa went forward more and pressed her face more into the small hand. Her eyes closed and her heart beat faster. Beca took the wolf's head in her hands and essentially petted the beautiful dog in front of her. She could see Luisa in the animal and she knew she loved both sides. When she pressed her forehead to the wolf's with a smile on her face, Luisa shifted back to a human on her hands and knees and cupped Beca's cheek.

She could feel herself giving out and made the most of her last moments. Luisa pressed a gentle kiss to Beca's lips before whispering, "I love you." Luisa pulled away, struggled a bit, then fell to the floor limply. Beca yelped loudly and turned Luisa onto her back with the blonde head in her lap. She brushed the hair out of Luisa's face and yelled, "Luisa!" The blonde simply brushed her fingers against the brunette's cheek and let a smile grace her lips before closing her eyes to her death.

Her heart stopped beating as soon as her hand fell to her chest and Beca was left with the love in her heart. Beca began crying loudly at the loss of Luisa and couldn't stop herself. Victoria knew based off the lamenting that her daughter had been taken. She burst into the room seconds later and demanded, "What happened?"

"I-I asked her to transform so I would know she wouldn't hurt me in her wolf form, and, and she . . . she died. It's all my fault!" Beca cried, leaning down to kiss Luisa's cold lips. Victoria kept her emotions in check as she kneeled down beside her daughter and took vitals. Luisa had truly died. The mother was quick to respond in the dire situation and asked Beca, "You're half fairy, right?"

The brunette nodded her head and simply followed the instructions given by the older woman since she had not clue what to do. "Alright, then. I'm going to give you a spell and you need to cast it with all your magic but you need to make sure that if you truly love my daughter, you need to put all the emotion you can into this bitch or else she is gone forever."

Victoria recited the slur of words to Beca and made her repeat them aloud so she had them correct. Then, the taller woman stood up and stepped back to allow Beca enough room to perform her magic. The tiny brunette placed her hands over Luisa's heart and stomach after she moved to be next to the fresh corpse and took a deep breath.

All she had to do now was perform the spell and she'd have her best friend back. But what happened if she couldn't bring Luisa back? Or if she did, would Luisa expect a relationship? Saving her life would definitely show that Beca loved her and the thought was too much to handle. Beca was not ready for any sort of relationship outside of friendship, but she couldn't stop the warm thoughts of Luisa coming to mind.

Focusing back on the situation, Beca breathed through her tears and cast the spell with all the emotion she had inside her. For Beca, the experience was very draining in every sense of the word. For Victoria, the bright light was nothing compared to what she saw in the light. Once the light and the vision faded, Beca had fainted from extreme loss of energy and Luisa laid unconscious by her.

Victoria instantly felt guilty because she thought Beca had died trying the powerful spell, but then she saw both of the girls rustle in their places on the floor. Without thinking, the teenagers sprung up into seated positions next to each other in a fit of adrenaline. Their hearts pounded with how close they were in proximity. As if they knew what to do, the two were immediately furiously kissing.

When they pulled away for air, Beca had found herself situated in Luisa's lap and staring into the bright blue eyes in front of her. Tears streaked their faces while they emotionally embraced each other. "I love you, Maus," Luisa whispered, not caring anymore. Beca felt their hearts comfort at the confession and she knew she had to tell Luisa then.

Hands firmly on the blonde's shoulders, Beca pushed Luisa away from her awkwardly. When Luisa looked confused, Victoria calmly excused herself while Beca brushed hair behind her ear and looked into her lap. Once the door was shut, Luisa reached up slowly to take Beca's cheek in her palm and refocus the girl's gaze. "What's wrong, Maus? Do you not love me?" Luisa choked out, utterly confused.

Beca breathed raggedly as she fought back tears to explain, "You wouldn't be alive if I didn't love you. But that's not it." Luisa was still confused by the way her eyebrows were pulled together. The brunette huffed out a breath, looked her friend in the eyes, and confessed, "Look, I'm not ready for a relationship. I love you, Luisa. I really do, but . . . I'm just not ready for the girlfriend thing."

The blonde's expression softened at the explanation before she whispered, "Oh, Beca," and hugged the girl in her lap. "That's all I needed to hear. I mean, I can't say I'm thrilled about not being your girlfriend, but I didn't expect that from you." She pulled away and held both sides of Beca's face. "All I've ever wanted from you since the day we met was your love. Now that I have it, I'll be fine. But you must promise me, when you're ready, you allow me to take you on a date to properly ask you."

"Alright, Wolfie." They kissed once more and rested their foreheads against each other's for a moment. Luisa recalled the nickname she got called and looked into the brunette's eyes. "Wolfie?"

"I couldn't think of anything better."

"God, I love you."

"Love you too. But, let me know the next time we might be attacked by Pieter please."

"I have to protect you, remember? You're my Maus. And I'm your Wolfie."

[texanredrose]

*knocks on the drive through window* hii, can i get uhhhh, elderburn "My car broke down and there's this biker who fixed it and now we're having dinner tomorrow" au? Oh! Can i also get a side of shameless flirting and trying not to stare at each other's physique? *slides a 30* thank you~

Heh, well, I’d much rather a cup of coffee, perhaps we could- oh, wait, you meant shameless flirting in the fic, my bad, I got this, no worries. (I’m sorry; I couldn’t resist the joke.)

Winter cursed under her breath, pulling off to the side of the road as lights flashed on her console. She’d thought a nice drive through the countryside would reduce her stress, but now she found herself broken down at least five miles from the nearest service station. 

Shutting off the engine, she took a moment to calm herself. According to the message that flashed across just before the engine began to whine and sputter, she’d somehow forgotten to get her oil changed, leading to the stuff drying up within her engine block. From her limited mechanical knowledge, she understood that to be a very bad sign.

Before reaching for her scroll, she got out, popping open the hood and lifting it up, as if by simply looking she could will more oil into manifestation. The gentle breeze whipped at her coattail, making her wish she’d taken the time to change out of her dress uniform before leaving the court-martial, or at least taken off the outer coat. But she’d been in a hurry to distance herself from the higher ranks, not wanting to push her luck and get yet another mark against her. General Ironwood couldn’t keep sticking his neck out for her and she well knew that.

“Now what?” She grumbled, glaring down at the interior of the compartment. Despite the many assurances that she should learn, she never bothered delving into the minutia of operating her vehicle beyond driving it; she hadn’t the faintest idea where the oil stick would be, though she understood that should be the first thing she checked.

The roar of an engine coming up the road caught her attention but she didn’t bother trying to flag the person down; given her streak of luck, it would just be some greasy jerk with a gleam to his eyes she didn’t like, and she’d be back to square one.

As it approached, she registered it likely belonged to a motorcycle- obnoxiously loud- and rolled her eyes, finally figuring out that the yellow leaver with an oil can painted on it was probably what she needed. As she reached for it, the vehicle passed- a yellow and orange blur in her periphery- and a furrow came to her brows as she tugged on the handle to no avail.

Then the screech of tires on asphalt had her straightening up, looking around for the source of the noise and finding the motorcycle had skid to a stop, sideways across the lane, the rider kicking out one leg to stabilize herself. 

She didn’t know much about bikes, though she could acknowledge this one looked fast and sleek, but she knew a thing or two about people. The brown leather jacket, leather chaps, and brown boots looked like standard fare for a biker, and the yellow helmet seemed to indicate an inclination towards safety. The unruly blonde locks flowing from beneath the helmet and what looked to be a tattoo encircling her right forearm, however, spoke to a certain amount of wildness, freedom, rebellion.

Revving the engine, the biker drove onto the shoulder, heading towards Winter, and she subconsciously smoothed out her jacket and prepared herself. While dealing with a woman typically meant she didn’t have to be as on guard, she wasn’t in the habit of taking chances or giving others the benefit of the doubt…

… incidentally, that might’ve been how she’d gotten courts-martialed so many times in the first place.

Popping out the kickstand and shutting off the engine, the biker reached up and took off her helmet, shaking out her long hair and running a hand through it with a friendly little smile on her lips.

“Having some car trouble there, Ma’am?”

Two things occurred to her then. One was the standard biting nature of her demeanor, the urge to say ‘what was your first clue’ and take an aggressive posture. The other, quite simply, was that the biker was actually rather attractive.

“I believe so,” she replied, stumbling slightly for a proper response. “I’m not mechanically inclined, however.”

“Ya mind if I take a look?” She gestured towards the open hood. “I know a thing or two about cars.”

“Be my guest.” Stepping aside, she waved an arm towards the engine block. 

She watched as the biker dismounted, the shift and creak of leather- a rather form fitting outfit, and what a form it fit indeed. “Name’s Yang, by the way.”

“Winter,” she replied, quickly meeting the woman’s eyes so she wouldn’t be caught ogling the sway to her hips as the biker sauntered over.

“You, uh, heading anywhere specific?” Yang stopped setting both hands on the frame before leaning over the engine. “This could take a minute.”

“No, I was just… driving for the sake of driving.” She watched the way the blonde moved, how the dragon tattooed on her arm seemed to come alive with every flex of the muscles beneath, the way her biceps seemed to straight against the jacket’s cuff. “I find the scenery out this way pleasant.”

“Hey, me too!” The woman looked at her then with shimmering lilac eyes and she quite nearly fainted as her heart stopped. “I was out riding to clear my mind. Guess that makes us quite the pair, huh?”

“I suppose so,” she replied, discreetly shaking herself, and mentally slapping herself when her gaze drifted towards Yang’s backside while she reached into the compartment to wrestle with the oil stick. “Oh, do be careful. I’m afraid it’s stuck-”

Pop!

With hardly any visible effort, the biker pulled the stick free, though a frown touched her lips. “That’s not a good sign. When was your last oil change?”

“I’m… afraid I’m not sure.” She coughed into one hand. “It’s… been a busy few months.”

“I hear ya.” With a hum, she pulled the stick completely free and wiped off the end, not terribly minding the bit of oil now smudged across black gloves before replacing the stick. “Unfortunately, missing out on little maintenance details like that can be bad news for your vehicle.” She pulled the stick out again and shook her head. “Looks like you’re bone dry on oil.” Lilac eyes flashed her way for a moment. “You know that’s no good for the motor, right?”

“I’ll admit I had my suspicions.” Leaning against her vehicle, she shrugged. “What, uh, exactly does that mean? Not having oil?”

“Well, you see, motors are… hardy but precise.” Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she leaned over the engine block again, one hand reaching up to keep her hair back and putting the column of her neck on display- muscled and tanned with a light sheen of sweat. “The oil lubricates them, keeps all the parts moving smoothly, makes it so the friction doesn’t wear the parts down. I mean, don’t get me wrong, a little friction is good from time to time.” A smirk was shot her way and Winter suddenly realized they might not be discussing the actual, physical engine in front of them at all. “But the oil’s important for other reasons, too. Stops the oxidation process. Wouldn’t want to get all rusty, right?”

Scrounging for something to say for a moment, Winter mentally slapped herself a second time. She wasn’t about to be shown up by some blonde biker with a pretty smile; she was still a Schnee, damnit, and word games came part and parcel with the upbringing.

“Of course not, although I’ll admit I’ve been a touch too lax recently in that regard. It’s entirely possible there’s rust in the motor, but I’m sure there’s some method of… taking care of that problem, correct?”

“There’s a few that I can think of, yeah.” A fire burned in the woman’s eyes and she suddenly got the feeling that her willingness to play this little game had just made up for her lack of proper maintenance. Yang stood up straight, reaching up to start unzipping her jacket. “We’ll need some oil before we really get your motor going, though.”

“And I’m sure you know exactly how to provide that.” Winter leaned forward, just a bit. She didn’t want to come off as too forward of course; a pretty face did not a stable relationship make.

“Lucky for you, I do.” Pulling the jacket from her shoulders, the blonde smirked… and then gently shoved the leather into Winter’s chest. “Hold this for me? I’m going to pop under real quick.” She winked. “Pouring in new oil does us no good if you’ve sprung a leak.”

Belatedly coming up to hold onto the jacket, Winter blinked even as the biker got down on her knees. Either Yang had truly meant the engine the whole time or she’d just been very slyly informed to slow down.

“Please, be careful down there.” Glancing down, her attempt at recovering smoothly became effectively derailed as she noted the woman’s white tank top, giving her even more evidence that Yang worked out her upper body religiously. Those shoulders- it should be some manner of illegal to look that good. “I… wouldn’t… want you to hurt yourself on account of me.”

“Not to worry, Winter.” Another wink. “I’ve had frostbite before.” And then she began shuffling under the car. “I’m pretty sure nothing here can hurt as bad as that did. Anyone ever tell you that Atlas is too damn cold?”

Back to flirting.

Perhaps she couldn’t figure out Yang’s pace or ultimate end game- if she was teasing, just being friendly, or genuinely flirting- but she’d been on the defensive long enough. Time for her to launch a proper counter offensive.

“People have said that our winter’s are too cold, yes, but I think that’s just because some people have no idea how to handle them,” she said, watching the woman’s legs kick out to help her move, and noting that it wasn’t just the position; the fabric of her chaps and jeans were tight against her skin thanks to muscle. “As long as you know how to properly warm up, winter’s are rather enjoyable.”

“Is that right?” A bit more shuffling around. “I suppose you know all about keeping warm, huh?”

“Of course.” With a sly smirk coming to her lips, she knelt down. “It’s all about proper considerations, knowing when friction is needed and when it’s not, how hot breath can feel so good but might undo you, when it’s better to take your jacket off rather than to keep it on, that sort of thing. Oh, and hydration is important. Wouldn’t want your tongue dry.”

She waited, watching how the woman went still before beginning to shuffle back out.

“Those, uh, sound like pretty good tips. Might have to try a few myself, next time winter comes.” Out from under the car, Yang offered her a smirk. “‘Course, I might not be around when that happens, but I’d like to be.”

“Plans on going somewhere?” She extended a hand, helping the woman to her feet, and considered her strategy carefully. She’d left the question just vague enough; if the biker wanted to make a move, now would be the time to do it.

For a moment, it looked like Yang just might take the bait… but then she differed at the last second. “I’m, uh, actually not from around here, so I was thinking of heading back home this year for a visit.” She shrugged, brushing off the back of her arms in a rather flashy fashion. “I’m still not sure if I’m Atlas material.”

Reading between the lines, she thought she might see where the woman actually intended to take that last line, and opted to respond in kind. “Have you considered you’re just too good for this kingdom?” Sweeping a hand towards the countryside around them. “It might look beautiful, but it can be cold and unforgiving at times. Sometimes, I find myself wondering why anyone would want to live here.”

It stood as truth in a multitude of ways. Atlas, in the colder months, was nigh uninhabitable without the advances in heating technology, and it reflected in just how much of the kingdom remained uninhabited just north of where they were. However, in reference to herself… it wasn’t untrue; she could be just as harsh as her namesake and she’d made enough mistakes over the years to recognize that now with the benefit of hindsight.

“Yeah, well… nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?” Yang nodded towards her bike. “How about I give you a ride? We can grab a few quarts of oil for ya, see if we can get this beauty up and running.” She nodded towards the door. “I just need to check the info panel inside your door.”

“That sounds reasonable.” Winter reached up, undoing the knot on her outer coat. “And I think I could do without this.”

“I thought you were cold,” the biker said, opening the door and looking for the information she needed.

As she peeled the coat off, she chuckled. “No, it’s actually a rather nice day. I’m afraid I just had to be in full uniform.”

“Full uniform, huh? What are you- whoa.” Lilac eyes glanced her way and then returned, widening a bit as she threw the coat onto the passenger seat. “Uh… military, huh?”

“Yes.” Her brow twitched. “For a while longer, at any rate.”

“Sore spot?” Yang frowned while putting her own jacket back on. “Wanna talk about it?”

She quite nearly shot back a quip about discussing her personal life with strangers but… well, it wasn’t like she had many sympathetic ears, and she could only yell inside her own head for so long before she hated the sound of her own voice rebounding off her skull.

“Three months ago, I got into a bar fight,” she said, smoothing out her collar and sighing. “Perhaps it would be more accurate to say I started the bar fight. I didn’t appreciate the way I was being addressed and the words ‘leave me alone’ didn’t seem to be in his vocabulary, so I attempted to leave. When my path was blocked, I attempted to remove said barrier by breaking a pool cue on his jaw.” She paused. “And then a chair against his ribs and maybe a table over his back. After the third punch from a stellar, upstanding good Samaritan, I’ll admit my recollection gets fuzzy.”

“Sounds like self defense to me.” Yang shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest. “I mean, when words fail, physical means tend to be the next step, right?”

“Not by regulation.” Winter shook her head. “Today, the court dismissed the charges, but only because my superior officer made the case that I was protecting Atlesian military property by defending myself, and I’m not sure which irks me worse: the idea that I should’ve allowed myself to remain trapped in the situation or the concept that my personhood has more rights when viewed through the lens of military equipment rather than as a person at all.”

“I’m guessing this isn’t the first time you’ve gotten into a scuffle like that.” A little grin came to her lips, tilting her head and cocking her hip out. “Bit of a hothead, huh?”

“It’s one of my many flaws, yes, thank you for noticing,” she replied dryly, waving a hand in front of her. “At any rate, it’s not getting us any closer to fixing my car.”

“Right. Come on.” As they approached the bike, Yang hurried ahead and grabbed her helmet, turning around and holding it out. “Sorry, but I’ve only got the one.”

“I- are you sure I should be the one wearing it?”

“Hey, I have a policy.” Her voice turned seriously, bereft of the cheery quality it had while they bantered by the car. “If you’re going to trust me to get you safely to the gas station and back, then the onus is on me to do it safely, and that means I do everything in my power to protect you. That includes not speeding, driving like a maniac, and letting you use my helmet.”

“Hard to argue with that.” Winter took the helmet into her hands, noting the bright yellow color and the little dragon decal painted above the brow.

“Uh, just one thing.” Yang winced, though something about the expression seemed… slightly insincere. “I’m afraid it’s not going to fit over that bun of yours.”

She raised a brow but acknowledged the truth in the words. “Very well. I’ll not be a burden on your conscience.”

Reaching up, she pulled out a few bobby pins, years of military service providing her with not only an expedient method of getting her hair within regulations but also one to get it out. And, seeing as she wasn’t due to be standing before anyone else in her chain of command again today, she went ahead and pulled out the tie as well, allowing alabaster locks to flow freely over her shoulders.

She didn’t miss the low whistle that Yang let out nor the way she quickly averted her gaze and pretended to check over her bike. “That’s some long hair.”

“Thank you. Yours is rather long as well, and it looks smooth to the touch.” She reached out, almost touching but not quite, and found her wrist caught in a steel grip.

“Sorry, Winter.” Yang gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “But that’s gonna have to wait until after you buy me dinner.”

“Sore spot?” At the biker’s nod, she shrugged. “Noted. I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Thanks.” Rolling her neck, the woman shook herself before mounting her bike, kicking on the engine and throwing a look over her shoulder. “Hop on. You ever ridden before.”

“No,” she replied, trying to make the motion look as smooth as Yang had while fastening the helmet into place. “Any tips?”

“When you see me lean, lean with me, just a little.” Over the roar of the engine, she called out the instructions with a smile. “And hang on if you feel scared.”

“Why would I-” at the first lurch, the motion unexpected and entirely out of her control, she quickly reached forward and grabbed the woman’s hips, mentally chastising herself. “You did that intentionally.”

“Well, we wouldn’t get too far just sitting here!” Turning the bike up the road, she started laying on the throttle, putting her feet up on the rests as they began to pick up speed. “It’s almost a straight shot! Just relax!”

Now there was a novel idea if she’d ever heard one. Winter didn’t relax very often, always expecting her next step to be fraught with some manner of peril, some test to pass. Yet, as she mustered the nerve to look around, she could admit being the passenger for a change… well, it was actually rather nice.

The roar of the engine, the wind in her face, catching in her hair, and now that she had plenty of reason to be so close, she could catch the other woman’s lavender perfume on the wind. 

This wasn’t so bad, really, and when they pulled into the gas station, she almost lamented it being over so quick.

“Okay, let’s go grab that oil,” Yang said as she shut off the bike and kicked out the stand for it, waiting until she’d dismounted before doing so herself. They walked into the store, finding the small automotive section off to the side, and the biker went through explaining the different types of oils, what each weight meant, and helped her pick out one for her car. “’Course, this won’t be a permanent fix. You still need to go to a shop and get a change, probably a flush to be on the safe side. And get everything else looked over, too; you might be running low on coolant.”

“How do you know all this?” Winter gestured towards the isle. “I’d say this is a bit more than the average person’s knowledge about automobiles.”

“Well, I’m a mechanic.” She shrugged. “Learned it from my Dad. I work at a garage just a few miles up the road.”

“I haven’t made you late for work, have I?”

“Nah, it’s my off day.” Lilac eyes flicked over her form. “Not that I’d object to being late even if I was, of course.”

They started towards the check out. “Ah, so you’re the type to get fired over a pair of pretty eyes, is that it?”

“Okay, one, they wouldn’t fire me for being late one time.” She reached up, tapping a finger against her chin. “Two, you’re not exactly wrong but I’d like to think I have a little more self control than that.”

“I do hope your partner isn’t the jealous type,” she said offhandedly, producing a few lien to pay for the oil. “I’d hate to get you in trouble for your assistance.”

She waved off the comment with a chuckle. “Oh, I’m single. I don’t really do relationships anymore.”

“There’s a story there.” Winter glanced at the line of her shoulders, noting the smooth and relaxed slope; no trace of the tension that appeared when she’d tried touching the woman’s golden strands. “Any chance I might hear it?”

“I’ll, uh, give you the cliff notes version: can’t find anyone who’s willing to put in the time.” Her gaze went over to the bike as the receipt printed off. “I’m like Bumblebee over there. Clutch is kinda funny, takes a while to really get me, know when to shift, but most people just… want to grind my gears and hope they don’t burn me out.” She shrugged. “I got tired of it.”

“That’s understandable.” While she didn’t have quite the same grasp of vehicles, she had enough to make a suitable analogy. “For me, there’s always a disconnect. People take one look and think of me like a Bugatti or Ashton Martin- expensive, high class, only the finest, a symbol of status. That’s how I was raised, so I suppose I can’t fault them for the presumption.”

“But you’re obviously a Jeep,” Yang said with pinched brows and a frown. “You’re tough, you take on anything, you can turn right around in the blink of an eye, and I’m willing to bet you can handle a lot of stuff that would break other people. Who would think you’re a Bugatti?”

“People who don’t take the time to get to know me,” she replied, offering a smile and picking up the bag with the motor oil. “Shall we?”

As they rode back to her car, a plan solidified in her mind. She simply couldn’t let this chance meeting end and never see the woman again; Yang possessed one to many traits she found desirable to let that happen. But, she had to tread carefully. The last thing she wanted to do was push too far, too face, and run the risk of rejection. But another thought occurred to her, one that made her hesitate only briefly.

“Okay, I’ll pour this into your car, and we’ll try turning her over.” Yang lead the way back to her car, unscrewing the cap on one bottle.

“I don’t suppose you get any sort of incentive for referring customers to your shop, do you?”

The biker winced, glancing over at her. “Well, we do, about fifty bucks a pop, but… uh, I wasn’t going to refer you.”

She raised a brow. “Any particular reason?”

“Well, since you spoiled the surprise,” she said, chuckling slightly. “I was gonna suggest that, since I helped you out with the ride and all, maybe you could pay me back with dinner tomorrow night? Not- not actually pay for the meal, of course, I don’t mean that kinda pay back, just, um.” Yang shook her head. “Dang, I was gonna be real smooth about this and now I’m thrown off, heh.”

Ah, a sign that she had read the entire encounter correctly from the start. The biker might’ve pulled over out of friendliness and not abandoning her to her own problems, but she’d been flirting with Winter just as Winter had been flirting with her.

“May I propose an alternative?” She leaned against her car again, not missing the way lilac eyes flicked over her- apparently, someone rather liked her uniform. “How about you do refer me to your garage, and that pays you back for your assistance here. Then we have dinner tomorrow on equal footing.”

The corners of her mouth twitched up into a smile. “Ya know, if someone told me this morning that a pretty lady was going to ask me out on a date, I’d think they were crazy.”

“If someone told me this morning that a beautiful woman was going to accept my offer for a date, I’d think the same.” She made a motion to the engine. “Yet here we are.”

“Oh, someone is confident, huh?” Yang laughed, emptying one bottle and grabbing the second. “You’re lucky I think that’s hot.”

“I agree,” she replied, tilting her head slightly. “But you’re right; you haven’t accepted yet.”

“Oh, I’m accepting, I’m accepting as hard as I can, trust me.” The biker smiled wider. “And, uh, as good as you look in that uniform- and, believe me, you look good- think you could dress a bit more casual? There’s a place over on seventh I’ve been dying to try- it’s a little Mistrali restaurant.”

“You haven’t been there yet?” Surprised, she shifted. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“Well, then, I really hope I like it, too.”

“I think you will.” She hummed. “And you could get away with wearing leather there, though I wouldn’t mind if you’d rather I pick you up.”

“Oh, come now, you really want to see me in a different outfit?”

“I think you’d look rather fetching in a tank top and gym shorts, frankly.”

“I’ll wear that if you wear a bikini.”

“I do know of an indoor pool.” At the way Yang ducked her head, she opted to give the woman a break. “But I think we should both aim for ‘casual’ attire. We’d probably be a little less out-of-place that way.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Finished with the second bottle, she nodded towards the driver’s seat while screwing the cap back on the tank. “Now try turning her over. Let’s see what happens.”

Winter walked around, sliding into her driver’s seat and doing as requested, relieved when not only did the vehicle start, but all the warning lights on the dashboard disappeared. “Thankfully, that worked.”

“Yeah, you’re telling me.” Yang chuckled, appearing by the door. “Not sure if I’d look as smooth if it hadn’t.”

“I’d be willing to forgive you,” she said, smirking. “Though I think I would demand a second date on principle alone.”

“Oh, I take it back, I wish I’d been wrong.” The biker winked. “How about you follow me down to the garage and we can keep talking while they do your oil change? I can call ahead, so you don’t have to wait as long.”

“How about we do those first two but skip the third.” She lifted her shoulder. “I’m in no rush if you aren’t.”

“I’m not.” Yang took a step away. “Oh, and try to watch the road instead of my ass.”

“You’re lucky I prize such straightforwardness.”

“Oh, I’m definitely forward, but not so much straight.” Another wink. “C’mon, let’s get going. We can play twenty questions when we get to the shop.” As she started walking away, she smiled. “And I’m letting you know that now so you can come up with some good ones, alright? Don’t disappoint!”

“I’ll do my best.” She smiled, watching as Yang turned around and sauntered back to her bike, and in the privacy of her own mind she could admit that the biker’s warning was warranted. It would be rather difficult to watch the road when she had something much more enticing in front of her, but the mental exercise of coming up with questions would likely keep her busy.

[chain-unchained]

All The World’s a Stage

All the world’s a stage,

And all the men and women merely players;

They have their exits and their entrances;

And one man in his time plays many parts.

He is a star without an audience, fulfilling his role unseen behind the curtains. One wouldn’t think it, given the elaborateness of his garb—he’s dressed to the part, a phantom in the night. It’s mostly for his own enjoyment, but it’s for one other person’s benefit as well.

The stage tonight is guarded well against intruders. His reputation precedes him; it’s to be expected. He’s a prolific actor, after all, with many fans eager to make his acquaintance before the show even begins.

From his perch atop the roof, he can see them all. And he’s wholly unseen by them. Beneath the pristine white domino mask, he smiles. The night is a cold one, and a bitter wind picks up, catching in the tails of his black tailcoat. Above, the moon shines bright, and the stars beckon him to begin.

Behind him are the glass skylights which will serve as his entrance. He isn’t surprised to find them latched and locked tight. A mere snap of his gloved fingers and the lock undoes it self. If such simple contrivances had worked on him, he wouldn’t be so popular.

 ####

 A length of rope aids his descent down from the skylight, and without a sound he takes a step into the faintly lit room below. He knows the layout of the building by heart, and the patrol routes of the guards as well; there would be one coming by in thirty seconds. Plenty of time.

The shadows guide him, and he flattens himself against them as the guard makes his round. He’s long gone by the time the next one comes.

A choke point presents itself. A T-shaped corridor where the next patrols converge, with no hiding place. Yet he’s prepared for this. The vents make for a bypass that can accommodate his small frame. It’s risky; if he moves too quickly, the thin metal beneath him will creak and groan in protest.

But they’re unwise to his presence, and he’s in no rush, so he takes his time. Arriving at his destination vent a bit later than he’d planned, he can hear the footfalls of boots in the distance. Another smile, his pulse quickening. He fancies himself an improv actor.

Mindful to remain completely out of their lines of sight, he waves a finger through the gaps in the vent. It’s a bit tricky to hit his mark when he can’t see it either, but the sound of boots tripping over laces suddenly undone lets him know he’s found it.

By the time the guard has them laced up, the thief is standing in the shadow of his prize. It glimmers and sparkles in the display light. A singular earring of indeterminate value, cast in platinum and adorned with rare varieties of diamonds almost too small to see. The plaque before the case claims that it once belonged to the defunct royal family.

Its monetary value matters little and less to the thief, though it was definitely a bonus. He’s after it for another reason, and that’s why they’ll never catch him.

The glass covering is trapped, this he knows. The aces from his deck of cards flatten down over the sensors with a wave of his wrist, and the glass is off. In a calculated move, he lifts his prize from its stand.

All the lights come on at once, and an infernal alarm begins to blare. He’s swept off of his feet before he has a chance to blink, dangling by his ankles as a pair of cuffs are slapped onto his wrists.

“I’ve finally caught you, Quincy.”

Quincy flashes another grin at the detective who snapped them on. “You said that the last time, Klein. We both know how that turned out.”

His joke doesn’t find a mark in Klein, who’s wearing a hardened frown upon his stubbled face. “Yes, we do. And I’m not making the same mistake again. Your thieving days are over.”

“Aw, but there’s still so many things I haven’t stolen yet.”

“Please, Quinn.” Klein’s voice is pained. “Just give it up. Let this end. Let this be the last time I have to chase you like this.”

The smile fades, and the mask slips from Quincy’s face to clatter to the ground. He looks at the upside-down detective with eyes colored lilac and brown. “You’re not having fun?”

“Of course I’m not. This may be a game to you, but it’s not to me. Do you know how hard it is to see my friend play a villain?”

“I thought you wanted a villain to chase. To make you famous.”

“I didn’t want it to be you. Please, Quinn.”

Quincy lets his arms dangle down past his head. “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?” He’s serious. The smile’s nowhere to be found. “I’m down for three life sentences. Things won’t go back to the way they were if you catch me now. Besides… deep down, you enjoy the thrill of chasing me. Don’t you?”

“I… haven’t the foggiest idea of why you think that.”

“C’mon, I’m not stupid.” Quincy’s voice takes on a sultry, playful tone as he continues to gaze up at Klein. “None of the times you’ve let me ‘escape’ have been an accident. You let me go. You want the game to continue.”

Klein feels his sunkissed cheeks heat up at the change in his adversary’s demeanor. “I told you that I’m tired of playing.”

“Oh? So you admit that it’s a game then.”

“Just stop, Quincy! Let me take you in. I’ll find a way to get you leniency in your case if you just cooperate.”

“Leniency?” Quincy feigns surprise. “You mean, you don’t want me to be locked up for the rest of my days?”

Silence is his answer, but he knows the real one. He knows that he’s got Klein right where he wants him.

“Are you hoping that maybe, if I get out early, we can… start over? Go back to the way things were before the academy?”

He reaches up and grips the front of Klein’s coat. “Because… that sounds nice. I didn’t want to give up the goose because there was nothing left for me at the end, but…”

“But… what?”

“But if I have you to look forward to, then, well…”

Klein places his hands over Quincy’s. “You’ll give up?” He’s hopeful.

“… Yeah. Do you promise?”

“Of course. A man never goes back on his word.”

Quincy smiles. “Always so honorable. Could you… do me one favor, though? Before you take me in?”

“What favor?”

His grip on Klein’s coat tightens, and he gives a slight tug. “Close your eyes.”

The detective’s face grows hotter again. He’s never seen this smokiness in Quincy’s eyes before. “… Alright.”

He slides his own emerald eyes closed and holds his breath as Quincy gives his coat another tug. For a brief second, he can feel a hotness close to his face, and his heart begins to race.

Then, it’s gone, and he opens his eyes to find the carefully laid trap empty. “Wh—Quincy?!”

“Haha, you fell for it again!”

Quincy’s voice calls to him from the windows high up above. In disbelief, Klein looks on, and Quincy lightly flicks the earring hanging from his left ear.

“You—you malcontent, that was just plain rude!”

“Aww, were you actually hoping for a kiss?” Quincy winks down at him and slips his mask back onto his face as he opens the window. “Well, a man never goes back on his word, so how about this—you catch me again, and I’ll give you one.”

“God damnit Quincy, get back here--!”

Klein’s demands go unheeded, and Quincy makes his exit, stage left. The guards outside see neither hide nor hair of him as he vanishes into the night, prize in hand, and Klein once again gives chase.

He steals so that this tantalizing game of cat and mouse can continue. The curtains close on this act, and they’ll rise again. Of that there is no doubt.

[frenchieleigh]

The Call Out

Duelverse: When Erwin Smith breaks the Gentleman’s Code, Nile Dawk takes it upon himself to right the wrong. 

Lord Mike Zakarius, son of Edgar Zakarius, the current Earl of Utgard, poured himself a brandy and shook his head affectionately as his sister Nanaba sighed contentedly, sliding a few inches backwards off the chaise where she lay, reading a love letter that had just arrived from her paramour, Nile Dawk.

He had once, twice, or maybe twelve times seen the contents of these letters and the graphic details of the affections between his sister and his close friend were pornographic on the gentlest of days, and bordering on illegal literature when the two were feeling particularly randy, written out in the incredibly precisely formatted calligraphy the young lord had perfected over the course of such letters.

Mike hadn’t wanted to read them, of course, but there was a very specific closeness he shared with Nanaba and one of the consequences of such a closeness was having to listen to to the indiscretion she took such pride in hiding from their father.

“Those correspondences are going to get you in trouble someday,” he noted, “if father ever finds out what you’re doing.”

Nanaba sent him a knowing smirk over the smut. “Well you’ll just have to keep your mouth shut then.”

Unappreciative of the quip, Mike took a sip of his drink. It had been a shock the first time he’d discovered the relationship between the two, happening upon them in a tangle of limbs and lips in the stables four years prior. The intrusion hadn’t deterred them, not after Nile’s initial stuttering and stammering apologies for something he wasn’t even particularly sorry for, insisting he was in love with the blue eyed minx and had been for some years now.

At his sister’s pleading, Mike had allowed the dalliance.

She was eighteen now, and unlike him, knew exactly who she was and what she wanted. Nile had made an attempt to propose on many occasions, but Nanaba had declined each time, suggesting instead to arrange it with Lord Frederik Dawk just to have it on the books, but keeping the knowledge as far from Lady Dawk as possible so Nanaba might be able to complete her studies in peace, without the duchess shoving wedding preparations into her every pore.

The eventual nuptials between the two were also kept secret from Lord Zakarius who everyone imagined would be thrilled to hear of his daughter marrying the heir to a dukedom, but Edgar was a strict, merciless man who expected the utmost perfection from his children. Nanaba’s state of ruin, if you would, was a stain on that perfection and it was likely that Edgar would marry her off to anyone else simply out of spite.

“Get yourself through with your studies, sister,” he chuckled, “I’d like some nieces and nephews in the coming years.”

Nanaba sat up with a scowl. “Is that all I’m good for then, Mike? Breeding?”

When he shifted, she softened her features. “I’m just kidding. But—” she folded the naughty letter, tucking it up into her underskirts, “perhaps you should marry. Have children of your own.”

“I’m not ready to marry,” he told her, “you know that.”

“You’re scared of marrying is what you mean,” she teased, “tell me brother, are you still green?”

A scattering of pink rose up in his cheeks then, contrasting his hulking build and he buried his nose in his drink as he muttered a defensive, no.

“Well that’s good,” she sighed, pulling out her fan to relieve herself of the heat from the fireplace, “when you do stop fearing women at least you’ll have some idea of what you’re doing.”

“I’m not afraid of women,” he said, though the uncertainty in his voice suggested otherwise.

A soft smile painted his sister’s lips. “Tell me then, when was the last time you danced with one?”

He moved to answer but she sat up, shaking the fan at him, “And neither Marie nor myself count. Nor any married women.”

Mike’s mouth clamped closed and he thought on that. He didn’t remember the last time he’d danced with anyone other than his sister, his friend, or an elderly hostess.

He sighed, putting the glass down on the sideboard. “They’re just so delicate,” he admitted, “And I’m—“

The door burst open then, saving Nanaba from another one of her brother’s laments on how he was absolutely certain if he were to ever have affections for a woman he may accidentally snap her in two. Honestly, the man was ridiculous.  

Nile Dawk stormed in, fury hot on his face, ripping the tricorn hat from his hair and throwing it onto a chair, not bothering with pleasantries.

Both of the Zakarius siblings raised their brows.

Mike poured his friend a drink and he took it with shaking fingers, but couldn’t bring himself to drink.

“I called him out.”

The taller of the two cocked his head slightly. “What?”

“Erwin,” Nile clarified, “I called him out. Pistols.”

Nanaba sat up, “You what?”

Mike raised his hands, waving them in the air to quiet the queries he could see dancing on his sister’s tongue.

“What happened, Nile.”

If there was one thing he could always count on as far as Nile Dawk went, it was reason. The man never did anything without thinking it through, Nanaba excluded. He weighed his options along with the benefits and detriments of them. For him to challenge anyone, never mind a close friend, to a duel was rash and impulsive, an act of emotion—something he just didn’t do.

“He’s refused to marry her.”

Nanaba’s eyes grew wide at this. “Marie?”

Nile clenched his jaw. He didn’t need to confirm it for the other two in the room to gain an idea of what had happened.

“What gentleman steals a girl’s innocence and refuses to wed her?”

“Plenty of gentlemen,” Mike pointed out. They didn’t live in the most moral of societies.

Nanaba sat back on the chaise. “And I wouldn’t ever say Erwin stole her innocence,” she argued, “I might go so far as to say she waited her whole life to give it to him.”

Nile shoved his hands in his hair. “Is this so trivial to the both of you?” he demanded.

“Not trivial,” Nanaba told him, “but not something worth losing your life over.”

“She’s like a sister to me,” he told her, “I will protect her honor.”

“Like a sister,” she repeated, “but she isn’t. Besides, her face and her father’s fortune combined will get her a decent husband whether she be a virgin or a whore. You know that. I know that.”

Mike pulled the crystal glass out from Nile’s grip and put a loving hand on his shoulder.

“Take the day to calm down,” he suggested, “retract the duel. Erwin will understand.”

“No.”

Nanaba flicked her eyes to her brother in a desperate sort of glance, then back to Nile. “You’re not the better shot,” she told him, “you’ll die unless he chooses to let you live.”

No one in the room though for a moment that Erwin Smith would actually want to kill one of his closest friends, but they also knew that he was a practical sort of man who saw everything through. He would take a chance on both their lives and leave the results up to fate.

In short, Nile would die.

“I didn’t come here for your speculation or your lectures,” he said, ignoring the truth in Nanaba’s words and looking up at Mike, “I came to ask your to be my second.”

Mike said nothing for a moment, torn between wanting to talk his friend out of this ridiculous offense, and accepting the honor of the position asked of him. They were young men, nineteen and twenty-one, who might have had easily frayed emotions, but they were still gentlemen, expected to keep their calm.

“Has Erwin named a second?” he asked. Perhaps the two of them could sort this out. Though if it was Levi Ackerman Erwin chose, Mike doubted it very much.

Nile scratched the back of his head. “I don’t now. Probably Levi.”

Damnit.

“Alright,” Mike conceded, “I’ll talk to him then.”

Nile snatch his hat back up from the sofa where he’d thrown it and stood, donning it with a stiff nod to his friend. He crossed the room, taking Nanaba’s hand in his, but before he could bid her a romantic farewell, she squeezed his fingers in her own, eyes flashing.

“Don’t you dare kiss me,” she warned, “not until you survive tomorrow.”

She was angry with him and he supposed he couldn’t fault her for that.

“Then I pray our next kiss is not at my grave,” he told her, removing himself from her grip, and her home.

When they were again alone in the parlor, Nanaba poured herself a drink and stared into the fireplace.

“If I lose him,” she told her brother, “I will kill her.”

“You will not lose him,” Mike sighed, lifting the alcohol from her hands. She was an incredibly emotional drunk, “none of us will be dying tomorrow.”

At least, he thought, as he pondered how his conversation with Levi would go later this afternoon, he hoped this was true.