#green lantern is like opposite-Blade

[maniacwatchestheworld]

AHAHAHAHAHAHA! AT LAST! IT'S LATE BUT I FINALLY FINISHED IT! THIS YEAR'S JACK O' LANTERN OF MINE! BEHOLD! IT TOOK ME HALF OF FOREVER TO MAKE! BUT I THINK IT LOOKS EXCELLENT! ENJOY IT!!!!

Two-Face & Harvey Dent Jack O' Lantern. Yes, these are opposite sides of the same pumpkin. The Harvey side was considerably easier to do than the Two-Face side! Also this pumpkin was half green when I started, but it took me so long to finish that the green basically all went away before I was done. Tragic, but oh well.

Also, credit to the place we bought these pumpkins from! I spent like... 3 or 4 days making this, and the pumpkin didn't get moldy in that time! Impressive, honestly!

Also also, credit needs to go to George Caltsoudas as I used his art as a stencil for this Jack O' Lantern. (You may see the art here or here.)

See some work in progress images under the cut.

Stenciling begins

Impressions made, carving it out.

CHECK OUT My EXCELLENT KNIFE TECHNIQUE!!! (Holding a paring knife, by the blade, upside down.)

[m1d-45]

small miracles

summary: washed up on the sands of ritou, inazuma’s famous helper lends you a hand.

word count: ~2k

-> warnings: n/a, just standard imposter au things. you are on the run, technically. very minor gore i guess(like veeeery tiny)

-> lowercase intended!

< masterlist > || second part >>

dirt collapses beneath your feet, your torn shoes skidding on the edge of the cliff north of liyue harbor. you can hear the waves lap at the rock thousands of feet below you, layered under the huffs of the people in front of you.

steel blades shine in the hot sun, the millelith wielding them just as fierce. you can see the hatred in their eyes, the need for your end, whether by the spears in their hand or the waters behind you. the only reason they haven’t struck is because of the woman behind the ring of them.

a dark oak pipe balances on the tip of ningguang’s finger, her eyes as sharp as their ruby hue. she lets it tip to one side, her head following the tilt, before she spins it back into her palm. every action is defined with grace, not so much as a hair out of place. every golden ornament shows off her prestige, her power, how without even lifting a finger she has you pinned in place against a cliff.

perhaps if you weren’t at risk of dying, you might feel different about it.

one of the millelith asks if they’re allowed to strike. the red tassel on her forehead swings as she shakes her head.

“no. this fake is not worth liyuen metal.” ningguang tucks the pipe away in a smooth motion, crossing one arm over her chest to rest the opposite elbow on it. a clawed finger swipes an invisible hair back into place on her bangs. “send them to the sea. their bones will serve as an excellent toothpick for osial.“

well, that was a horrific visual.

in an instant, the millelith spin their spears around, careful to keep the blades away from themselves and each other to jab to dull ends at you. behind them, ningguang barely looks fazed, examining a geo crystal in her hand. you know the nonchalance is manufactured, a subdued silence, but that doesn’t make it any better. she doesn’t care that she’s sending you to your death. she knows it, wants it, and what would the millelith be if they couldn’t remove one person from the tianquan’s presence?

your left foot is standing half on air. the part that is on ground is shaky, uncertain, dirt nowhere near as stable as stone.

you risk a look at ningguang.

ruby eyes are the last thing you see before you fall.

you wake up on a beach, sandy and exhausted. invisible wounds bleed harder as sand gets into them as you sit up to look around. your clothes are hard with saltwater, and it’s a miracle you made it here alive. though teyvat has been kind, fruit and clean water always within reach, you didn’t think that you would live long enough to hit land.

you stand—nearly falling—and shake out as much sand as you can, looking around. across the sea is a small island, within swimming range, but youre not inclined to explore when your limbs still feel so heavy. to your right, the beach narrows off, overtaken by the cliff behind you, but it seems to open up more to the left.

you decide to stumble that way, passing a spike of driftwood, and stop just as quickly.

you can see green roofs of houses, spires and what is maybe a watchtower in the distance, the architecture familiar. red and orange trees are interspersed between them, and your hopes fall.

you’d hoped you were in the stone forest. you’d hoped that you’d have a chance, knowing the abundance of hilichurls on the small islands, but now you’re…

you start walking, hoping to find some clues to prove your hunch wrong.

you see an okay looking boat, but youre preoccupied by the path branching to the left. wooden boards seem to make a walkway, and you step over them on your way inside. theres a small tent, a lantern, a block of supplies and a cooking pot. in the tent is a bed fashioned of hay, but embers light up the wood beneath the pot.

it would be a cozy enough place to stay, but you can’t risk whoever owns it coming back.

you head back the way you came and continue towards the city. the sand slides beneath your ragged shoes, but theres flowers following the breeze in the grass near the cliff. purple and a soft blue, they distract you long enough that a guard walks to their post further down the beach.

oh.

oh no.

you recognize the uniform, and the logo of the tenryou commission embossed on the armor. if inazuma is the same as any other nation—likely worse, considering the way its run—you need to avoid those guards at any cost.

you look to the cliffside. its steep, too steep to climb when youre still soaked from the sea.

you sigh, and decide to find another way up.

youre not quite sure how none of the guards saw you, but under the dwindling light of dusk, you manage to make to the southern(?) outskirts of what appears to be ritou.

…not that that means anything. you still don’t know how to get off the island, and trying to forcibly get deported will only result in an arrest. though there’s a food cart that most certainly can see you, the worker didn’t report you to the guards when they passed. you don’t remember her name, but know she sells some kind of food. maybe a fish dish? or was it egg? not that it matters, food is food, and if you’re lucky you’ll have enough mora for some.

you sit against a wall, checking your pockets. most of your stuff was either stolen or lost to sea, but your mora was still securely tied to your waist. after checking twice that you were out of people’s line of sight, you started to count, stacking the coins in piles of 10 on the grass in front of you. after a hundred, you moved them into one bigger pile.

you had more than you expected. though your pouch always seemed to weigh about the same, you didn’t think you could fit almost three thousand mora inside- or that you even had that. then again, chests typically had a few hundred, and you’d been pretty lucky in mondstat…

you set aside five hundred and hope it’s enough, but knowing teyvat’s economy… if salt was 60 mora, who knew how much you’d need?

whatever the case, you needed to eat. cradling the coins against you as you attach your pouch back at your waist, the go to move for the food stall.

your plans are dashed the second you stand.

a familiar face walked up the path towards the food stall, but quickly diverted towards you.

shit.

you step away, behind a tree, hoping against hope that he’d only seen somebody next to you instead of-

“hello there!”

you jump at how quickly thomas voice appeared at your side, taking another step back.

shit. that’s definitely him. weird horn headpiece, blonde hair, too-short jacket, dog tags and all.

you lick at your lips. they taste of salt. “hi?”

you hate how shattered your voice is. how quiet and rough it’s gotten.

“hey! i’m thoma.” he extends a hand, the small ribbon on the back of his glove rippling in the soft breeze. “it’s nice to meet you!”

you hesitate. it feels like you do a lot of that lately.

you remember him being affiliated with the kamisatos, which means he’s almost certainly heard of everything you’ve been accused of. but… there’s no way he would come up to you so casually if that was the case, right?

you want to trust him. you do. but there hasn’t been anybody else yet that you could.

carefully, you meet his hand with your own weak grip. the cloth on his gloves is leather, unsurprisingly, and though it is cold with the dusk chill, his fingers are warm. you have a feeling it’s from his vision, and your mind flickers to the last time you slept by a fire.

it’s been months.

“oh, you’re freezing! what are you doing outside?” his voice jumps a few octaves and his hand tightens around yours. “oh jeez, you’re going to catch a cold if you’re not careful. what are you doing without a coat in the middle of winter?“

is it winter? you don’t really remember the last time you knew the date for certain, but if that was true, then it was bad news. the clothes you wore you got from hilichurls and abyss mages, but the main enemies in inazuma were nobushi…

your worry must show on your face, because thoma’s frown deepens.

“now that i look at you… you’re not from inazuma, are you?”

you shake your head no.

“oh no… did you get caught up in the outlander affairs agency? they haven’t gotten any better after the decree, have they….”

“no, i-“ you cut yourself off with a coughing fit, tasting a bitter mixture of salt, blood, and bile climb up your throat. it’s disgusting, and alarmingly salty. you must have drank more ocean water than you meant to; it’s a wonder you didn’t choke on the trip over.

(how did you make it over? the distance from liyue to inazuma was too large for you to have simply floated, surely? but didn’t thoma himself float over?)

thoma’s other hand lands between your shoulder blades, patting lightly. “hey, it’s okay. it’s good you haven’t ran into the agency, but that cough doesn’t sound good at all…”

you adjust the tattered mask on your face, straightening and doing your best to look like you haven’t been on the run. “i’ll be fine.”

your chest tightens with the need to cough, but you set your jaw. you can’t afford to get involved with the yashiro commission. you’re certain the mora clutched in your grip is enough to buy you a decent meal and—alongside the rest of it—some kind of warm herbal tea.

gentle green eyes catch the money in your palm and widen. you can see the gears clicking inside his head, and he speaks before you can.

“is that all the mora you have?”

“i-“

“and you don’t even have a- ah, i can’t leave you out here like this. could you come with me to the teahouse? there’s a waypoint just inside ritou, and i’d feel a lot better if i could get you some tea and clean clothes. it won’t be the fanciest, but i know there’s some spare sets and anything would be better than risking an illness. inazuman winters aren’t kind, and the shogun hasn’t been in the best mood as of late.”

the pros and cons weigh in your head. you could go with somebody you know is kind, and get what is certainly good food and hot drinks with clean clothes to boot. or, you could risk walking into a trap with, arguably, one of the most influential people in the yashiro commission at least, if not all of inazuma. it’ll either be the best choice you’ll ever make, or one that’ll land you in front of tenshukaku in chains.

thoma picks up on your hesitation, taking his hand off your shoulder and giving you space, though he keeps your hands linked. “can i at least bring you some dinner, then, if you don’t want to come with me? or a blanket? or- or something?“

he’s awfully worried for somebody he just met. you’re not sure if his determination is evidence of his benevolent nature, or if he’s trying to make you trust him as he calls over some shogunate soldiers.

…you also can’t decide if it’s your desperation for connection with somebody you can rely on or your need for a better environment that makes you agree.

maybe his bright smile has something to do with it. or the comforting warmth in his hands as he leads you away? maybe it’s the way he holds you tightly against him after you ask to go to the teahouse and are nearly sick coming out of the teleporter.

or maybe, by chance, it’s the light in his eyes when you say ‘thank you’.

[dollwritesarchive]

𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲’𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 — 𝐠𝐮𝐲 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐫

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), dark fic, fem!alien!reader, reader’s dad is definitely an intergalactic criminal, noncon, interrogation, size kink, age gap, mild threats against reader, guy plays bad cop ( and starts to like it ), degradation, humiliation, choking, oral sex ( m!receiving ), fear kink, daddy kink, all characters featured are 18+ 

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ requested by anonymous. do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading &lt;3

what was he doing here? 

the Green Lantern Corps wasn’t supposed to be allowed on this planet; that was exactly why your father sent you here. 

and yet, here he was. he wasn’t in uniform, and before you’d bolted, you hadn’t seen the ring gleaming on his finger, so you assumed he was here without the guardians or his fellow corps members knowing, but that only made it worse for you. he’d been scanning the crowded bar room, and when you’d made the mistake of locking eyes, he recognized you instantly. 

luckily, you were faster than him at first, and the patrons assisted in obstructing him long enough for you to duck out of the back and into the alleyway. 

but you had no idea Guy Gardner of the Lantern Corps could lay down a circle of armed men in a matter of seconds without his power ring, and before you could call for help, his massive frame busted through the back door and he snatched you up. 

you screamed and fought, flinging your body back against his, but only to find that he was completely solid and unyielding. “Easy, sweetheart!” he barked, grasping your hand as it comes up, blindly, a glowing blade in your hand. his vice tightens around your wrist, and you yelp, before he twists your arm up and pins it to your lower back. “Now, that is a big knife for a little thing like you. Daddy buy that for ya?” he’d dug his chin against your shoulder, walking you, kicking and screaming, closer to the wall on the opposite side of the alleyway. his free hand grasps the handle and wrenches it from your fist with what little resistance you could muster. “Ya gonna cut me up with that? Huh?” 

“You can’t be here!” you hissed, shoving your shoulders back to try and jab him in the chest. you were met with only solid muscle. “This planet is out of your jurisdiction!” 

“Why do you think I ditched the uniform, honey?” Guy crooned, throwing the weapon to the ground. it clatters, the glow dimming, and his hand grabs at the collar around your neck. you knew he must be feeling the inscription, and even without his ring to translate, he must know what it says.

“If you don’t let go of me I swear I’ll—” 

 “I don’t think you wanna go and do that. I know where I’m at. Do you? Daddy dearest sent his little princess to a planet fulla’ the nastiest criminals this side of the universe with a dinner bell ‘round her neck.” 

you scoff, “They wouldn’t dare!” 

“Wouldn’t they?” Guy mutters in your ear, instilling the inkling of doubt in your mind, “You think any of these space thugs would think twice about bending you over this dumpster? If you’re really that confident, go ahead and call for them. Let’s see what they’d do if they saw you all tangled up and helpless. My money’s on nothin’ good.” 

your eyes widen. you hate that he might be right. but you say nothing, pursing your lips into a loathsome pout. 

“Don’t sull up on me,” he growls, his hand careening up from the collar to grasp your face, digging his thumb and forefinger into your cheeks. the pressure pushes your lips out further. “You should be thanking me. Because I got to you before any of these monsters caught you alone.” 

“What do you want?” you snap, trying to shake your head to force his hand from your face. his grip only tightened. “You can’t arrest me. Not here.” 

“I just came here to ask you some questions, sweetheart. You can be a good girl and answer them truthfully,” Guy pauses, pressing your torso against the brick wall, but he guides your head back to rest against his clavicle so you’re looking up at him. “…or your night can get a lot harder.” 

you already knew what the question would be before he said it. 

“Where’s daddy hiding?” 

your eyes narrow, and you glare up at him, but make no attempt to answer. 

Guy tilts his head. “Nothing? Not a peep?” the ghost of a smirk dances across his lips, “I was hoping you’d pick the hard way.” 

knots tied in your belly and you bite down hard on your lip. you want to ask him what he’s going to do to you, but you don’t have the time before he’s pressing his weight against you, pinning you to the wall so he can reach the gem embedded in your temple. 

“Why don’t we just give him a call?” 

he’s rough when he presses into it, and you cry out, your eyes lighting up along with the jewel itself. if the communication connecting hadn't always stunned you, you would’ve reached up and clawed at his wrist. “S—stop!” 

your name echoes around you, your father’s voice, asking what was going on. after all, you rarely called him this way. it hurt too much. 

Guy chuckles, and taps it a couple of times, as if he were knocking on a door, and you whimper each time, mouth hanging open and illuminated eyes turned up towards the dark atmosphere. “So this little trick does work. And here I thought Hal was just pullin’ my leg. Z, buddy, it’s been a while. Remember me?” 

“…. Green Lantern Guy Gardner.” 

“Bingo! And I got your little Princess here with me. Go ‘head, sweetheart, say hi to daddy.” 

you shudder when he nudges your ear with his lips, hissing low in your ear, but you mumble slowly. “He… won’t let me go…” 

your dad sounded completely nonchalant, if not annoyed. “You’re safe. He can’t arrest you there, remember?”  

“So y’all keep sayin’.” Guy scoffs, and one arm slinks around your midriff. “But I haven’t tried to drag her to a sciencell. It’s you I’m after, Z.” 

a sigh echoed around the two of you. 

“D—daddy…“ you wanted to beg him for his help. however, Guy was right there. 

“Hear that, pal? That’s your daughter calling for you. If ya just show your ugly mug, I’ll let her go nice and easy.” 

“What will you do with her if I don’t comply with these terms?” 

blinking, you stare, incredulous. you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. would he really not come to save you? “Daddy—” 

“Sh, baby girl, the grown ups are talking.” Guy crooned, clapping a hand over your mouth and squeezing it tight. “You’re one evil bastard for even considerin’ not coming to get her, Z. If you don’t make your grand appearance, well hell, I might just have to be her new daddy.” Guy plants a fleeting kiss on your cheek since he’s leaned in close enough to whisper to the jewel. “Me and her are gonna have some fun.” 

there’s a moment’s silence— one that you can’t even believe happens. why isn’t your father screaming? why isn’t he throwing out threats and demanding you be released this instant? 

“Make your choice, Z. Ya gonna let the little thing become my new sex doll or are ya gonna turn yourself in?” there’s an edge to his voice, as if the silence is also frustrating him. he must’ve been expecting the same thing you were; maybe he didn’t really like the idea of using you as a hostage, either. 

more silence. 

you whined from behind Guy’s palm, tasting the saline sweat and the roughness of the healing callouses against his fingers. 

“Princess, you know I love you,” your dad started and your heart sank. with wide eyes you screamed into Gardner’s hand, “but sometimes, we all must make sacrifices…” 

Guy scoffed in disbelief, taking a subtle step back, “You gotta be shittin’ me,” he murmured more to himself, and spun you around so your back was against the bricks. then, the hand that was previously keeping you quiet slid down to grasp at your throat. with a pathetic croak, you reach up to dig your nails into his hand from either side. “Hey, Z. I’m about to shove my cock in your little girl’s throat so I’m gonna have to cut this call short, aight buddy? I just want you to hear one thing.” 

“Green Lantern…” your father sounded impatient, as if he was desperate to get off the line before he could feel even an ounce of humiliation, but Guy ignores it. he leans in close to you again, breathing hot air against your lips as his grip tightens. 

“Who’s your daddy now, sweetheart?” 

you didn’t want to answer him. you gurgle for air, eyes big and glaring up at him, but when you realize he won’t ease up until he gets the answer he’s looking for, you mutter, begrudgingly, “Y—you are—“ 

“What’s that? I didn’t hear you.” Guy gives you a little shake by your throat, his thumb pressing hard against your windpipe and his olive eyes lock on to yours. “Who’s your daddy now?” 

there’s a twinkle in his gaze when you whimper, your own flooding with fearsome subservience, and you croak out, “Y—you’re my daddy!” 

did he like how scared you were?

“Damn straight.” 

you felt the connection to your father cut, as if he’d finally had enough, and your eyes dimmed, before finally returning to their normal hue. he hadn’t wanted to hear anymore, obviously. 

Guy uses the grip on your throat to drag you down the side of the brick wall until you’re slamming your knees against the rocky ground and wincing, staring up at him. “He— he’s going to show up,” you attempt to assure him, but he’s already reaching with one hand to unbuckle his belt. “He’s coming to save me, and if you do anything to hurt me, he’ll—“ 

“He’s not comin’, Princess.” he growls, cutting you off. he grips your face and tilts it up, running a rough thumb pad over your trembling lower lip. “You not hear him? He’s givin’ you to me so he don’t rot in a sciencell. I was even gonna let you go before, but now…” Guy trails off, dragging his thumb over your lip before pushing it into your mouth. you whimper, your tongue pushing back, and you try to shake your head, but he hooks it against the inside of your cheek, pushing your head back against the wall. “You had to go and look so cute when you were callin’ me daddy.” 

“P—please…” you slur around his finger. “Please… just let me go… I won’t tell—“ 

“Shh,” Guy replaces his thumb with his first, two fingers, prodding deep to the back of your throat until you gag, helplessly blinking at tears welling in your eyes. “Daddy’s thinking.” his fingers pump in and out of your open mouth, forcing you to cluck and gargle, costing them in spit, as he watches. “Daddy’s thinking about how he’s gonna fit his big, thick cock in this pretty, little mouth of yours.” Guy’s free hand flees to his belt, unbuckling it skillful and quick, before focusing on his zipper. “Hell, I bet you’ve never had to suck cock a day in your spoiled life. You’d choke the whole time. You’re gonna need some serious training before I can play with you the way I really want to.” 

Guy worms his leather boot in between your knees, pushing it flush against the crotch of your panties underneath your skirt so you’re sitting on his foot, and you mewl, squinting. you didn’t want to be, but the light rubbing of coarse leather against the thin lingerie had you dampening them in no time. 

“You want daddy to be nice to you this time? Take it easy?” 

there’s no way to escape him, and even if you tried, you knew he’d just catch you again. besides, you feared what the alternative to his niceties could be. so you nod, allowing your eyelashes, stuck together with tears, to flutter. 

Guy groans, staring down at you, and pushes his fingers as deep as he could, dipping the tips into the back of your throat, staring down at you. you were drooling and crying, helpless. and he was so powerful, in complete control. “Ask me, real sweet.” 

“P—pleas—“ it was difficult, to say the least, to sound out each word around his fingers, and simultaneously keep from gagging on them. “Please be nice— to me— daddy—!” you could feel saliva leaking out around his knuckles, dribbling down your chin, and you were humiliated. you’d never felt so dirty in your life. 

Guy shimmies his jeans and underwear to his ankles, grabbing his monstrous cock at it’s girthy base to show you just how big he was. even his herculean fist, that he could wrap all the way around your neck, looked to be normal as he held on to the massive tool. he saw your eyes widen, gluing themselves to his cock, and he whistles. “I know, baby girl, it’s big, ain’t it?” pulling his other hand from your mouth, he slathers the already strong erection in the spit you’ve coated his hand in, before rubbing the length across your face. sputtering for air, you try to shy away from it, but Guy takes your hair at the roots and holds you in place, so he can smack the angry, red tip against your cheek, hard enough to leave you wincing and whimpering for him to stop. “I wanna see you struggle to suck me,” he murmurs, tugging your hair, “I bet even just the tip is bigger than you can comfortably handle. Open wide.” 

you shook your head, trying to seal your lips together tight, but the power behind his pushing as he prods your reluctant mouth finally forces you to comply. you reach up, about to press against his thighs when the thick head stretches your mouth open and slips inside, but he takes both of them at the wrist and tucks them behind your back. “Don’t need these.” he snorts, gruffly, “Keep ‘em outta my way. If that’s all you can take, then you better start suckin’.” 

you garbled your way through an incoherent thought, your hands balling into fists but you kept them behind your back, as obedient as you could be. at least he wasn’t trying to shove the whole thing in your mouth; the more your eyes tried to stare at the several inches protruding from your face, the dizzier you felt. the head was inside, just barely, and your lips were already stretched into a tight O, your tongue pinned to the floor of your mouth, and his thickness threatened to bulge your cheeks. trying your best to clamp your tiers into as tight a seal as you could, you suck in your cheeks and slurp. it’s beyond embarrassing, the sloppy sounds you made trying to suck Guy’s cock. you whined and mewled and squinted, bobbing your head to simply appease the beast of a man before you. 

“Uhhuh,” he grunted, releasing your hair. one hand splayed against the wall to support himself, and he dipped his chin into his bolstered, rising chest to watch you, “that’s it, sweetheart. Keep doing it, just like that.” 

you were staring up at his pleasured face, and you hoped he could feel every ounce of hate for the way his cock fit in your mouth you poured into your gaze, but you had a feeling he didn’t care. your brows knit together, and you moaned when he ground the toe of his shoe into your panties. 

“That hot, little mouth sure is somethin’, you’re gonna fuck around and make me cum,” he hummed between ragged breaths, “I can’t wait to see how the rest of your holes feel stretched around me.” 

Guy’s hips were twitching, but thankfully he didn’t use them to rock against your face and try to stuff you beyond your limit, but he did allow his hand to rest on the top of your head, keeping it in place while you sucked. “Use your tongue, little girl.” he hisses, closing his eyes, “Show me how bad you wanna swallow my load.” 

you didn’t, that was the problem. 

the last thing you wanted was for him to cum in your mouth; you didn’t want to taste the desire he held for forcing himself on you, but you couldn’t fight back. so, with all the strength you could muster, you push the tip of your tongue to tickle the sensitive underside of the twitching tip, until he howls in pure, sordid delight and comes undone. 

regardless of whether or not you wanted it, he shot spurt after hot spurt directly into your mouth. you gagged when the warmth drizzled down into your throat, but it was clear when he murmured, “Swallow it.” that he wouldn’t be pulling out until you did. 

obedient, albeit disgusted, you swallow, blinking fresh tears away, and your nails digging miniature crescents into your palms. “Nnn… Nnn…” 

“There’s daddy’s good whore.” he purrs, catching his breath, and finally, pulls himself free of your mouth. there’s a flood of spit and cum that didn’t make it down your throat that oozes over your lips once he’s pried himself out, and you pant, sitting back on your butt against the rough ground. coughing, you consider forcing yourself to throw up, just so his damned warmth is out of your system. however, the strong hand that grabs your face and forces it up towards him again stops you. you find Guy squatting down to be as close to eye level as he could get with you. “As long as you play by the rules, I promise you’re gonna learn to like daddy’s games.” 

[ryukang1995]

Mortal Kombat vs. DC Universe counterparts/matchups

Superman = Raiden - The ultimate defenders of their worlds. Superman is like a god while Raiden is literally one...well, before New MK1 came along.

Batman = Liu Kang - The greatest human defenders of their respective teams...at least before Liu Kang became the Fire God. Both are expert martial artists and have an animal motif going on (Liu Kang has a dragon theme while Batman's is self-explanatory).

Wonder Woman = Kitana - Warrior princesses from other worlds. Depending on which version you're going with, they also have close relationships with Batman and Liu Kang.

Green Lantern (Hal Jordan) = Kuai Liang (Scorpion/Sub-Zero) - Members of councils who often share their mantles with other figures in the canon (Hal is part of the Green Lantern Corps while Kuai Liang is a member of the Lin Kuei clan, and later the Shirai Ryu clan in New MK1). Green Lantern's ring and Sub-Zero's ice often function similarly with both of them being able to create practically anything with them.

The Flash = Kabal - Super speedsters who often can be snarky.

Aquaman = Rain - Royal figures who are hydrokinetic and can manipulate the weather.

Deathstroke = Hanzo Hasashi (Scorpion) - Top ranking assassins who left behind their families from previous lives.

Catwoman = Sonya Blade - Arguably the most recognizable female characters besides Wonder Woman and Kitana, they're often on opposite sides of the law since Sonya is a Special Forces agent while Catwoman is a burglar. They too have close relationships with Batman and Liu Kang (mostly in my works based on MK, and even in the Jeff Rovin novel).

Dick Grayson (Robin/Nightwing) = Kung Lao - The partners/sidekicks to Batman and Liu Kang, they too are skilled martial artists.

Cyborg = Jax - African-American males who are cybernetically enhanced.

Starfire = Li Mei - Female fighters who can fire plasma/nova blasts. They also have close relationships with Dick Grayson and Kung Lao (at least in my works based on MK).

Raven = Ermac - Figures who use telepathy and dark magic.

Beast Boy = Nightwolf - Characters who can morph into animals.

Shazam = Fujin - Godly figures who are somewhat connected to Superman and Raiden.

The Joker = Kano - Psychopathic criminals with a penchant for knives and a twisted sense of humor.

Harley Quinn = Mileena - Seductive yet playful and twisted femme fatales.

Green Arrow = Kung Jin - Archers who are also skilled martial artists.

Black Canary = Sindel - Authority figures who are also mothers and have ultrasonic screams.

Blue Beetle = Takeda - Young heroes who have an insect motif.

Booster Gold = Johnny Cage - Egotistical celebrity heroes.

Katana = Kenshi - Japanese fighters who wield swords that have the souls of family members trapped in them.

Sinestro = Bi Han (Sub-Zero/Noob Saibot) - Darker foils to Green Lantern and Kuai Liang who used to fight for good until they became villains who invoke fear.

Killer Croc = Reptile - Sideshow freaks with a strong reptilian theme.

Lobo = Baraka - Deadly otherworldly beings.

Bane = Goro - Behemoth fighters with a level of intellect. They also have pivotal roles against Batman and Liu Kang (while Bane broke Batman's back, Liu Kang defeated Goro to become the Mortal Kombat champion).

Doctor Fate = Shang Tsung - Sorcerers.

Lex Luthor = Quan Chi - Power-mad and intellectual villains.

Darkseid = Shao Kahn - Tyrannical rulers bent on conquering worlds.

That's all for now. I did leave some characters out, but these are who I could think of at the moment. If you view them differently, it's all good.

[tyrannosaurus-trainwreck]

As one of the people who saw Ryan Reynolds’s Green Lantern in theaters, I felt like it really was not as bad as the reputation it’s earned.  It wasn’t good.  It made a lot of dumb mistakes in terms of effects and set-pieces. But like, in terms of Ryan Reynolds’s oeuvre, it’s not even in the top ten worst things he’s been in.  It’s not even the worst superhero movie he’s been in--Origins was fucking awful.  So I gave Green Lantern another shot, and I’m watching it, and again--not good, but not the worst thing ever.  Certainly not bad enough to be held against any of the people in it.

The thing about it, mostly, is that nobody behind the camera had bothered to watch Blade.

Blade, in case you don’t know, came out in 199-fucking-8.  It was The Matrix, but with vampires, except The Matrix* wouldn’t be out for another year.  You’d have to say The Matrix was like Blade, if it was for that guy who wouldn’t shut up about Buddhism and shrooms in your Philosophy 101 class instead of goths.

Blade was a superhero movie, except the readily-identifiable comic book-based superhero movies from the previous decade were... not great.  The Batman franchise had gone off the rails in a serious way. Barb Wire was a Catwoman for the ‘90s. Spawn was shockingly bad.  The superhero movies that weren’t straight up cinematic failures tended to be comedies--Orgazmo, Blankman, Meteor Man, The Mask--of varying degrees of success and with release levels that ranged from limited to general, but which nobody was expected to take seriously.

Vampire movies were kind of in the same boat.  Buffy (the series) had only started hitting its stride the year before.  Bram Stoker’s Dracula was good, but popular audiences didn’t really seem to get it.  Most of the other recent entries were either sleazy pulp nobody expected anything from or lazy comedies.

Blade had pretty much everything stacked against it, in terms of audience expectation, marketing, etc.  Even with Wesley Snipes attached, it’s a miracle it got green-lit, given the lack of widespread audience for the comic book and the niche appeal.  It proceeded to kick the goddamn doors off audience expectations.

There’s a needle people think you have to thread with movies based on established properties.  Keep too much of the property’s original-format mythology, and you risk alienating neophytes who can’t follow it or are flat weirded out by it.  Throw too much out, though, and you risk alienating the diehard fans whose guaranteed ticket sales got you through studio’s door in the first place.  It’s not entirely untrue, but it turns out you can have your cake and eat it too if you start with a barely-explained off the goddamned chain set-piece right out of the gate.

Blade’s backstory is teased by a minute-long scene of his mother dying in childbirth while being treated for what is clearly a vampire bite.  We don’t really have to care about it at this point, though, because we immediately segue into a trashy couple making out and nyooming around in a sports car and then gaining admittance to an underground rave in the basement of a meat-packing plant.  It’s exciting and sexy enough to keep the audience engaged, it’s generous with the horror-movie cues, and you’re primed to expect something interesting to happen any second now.

Which is when the sprinkler heads start spraying blood everywhere, the male half of the trashy couple turns out to be the only human in the room, and then Blade shows up.

“The Daywalker!” somebody gasps.

Do we have to care what this means?  No, we do not, because Blade immediately starts fighting everybody in the place.  Turns out you don’t need expensive monster make-up when you can just douse somebody in two buckets of fake blood, tell them to give the camera crazy-eyes, and then rush at Wesley Snipes hissing and baring a pair of fanged dentures.  It’s over the top in the best possible fucking way.

For those of your playing along at home, by the time we’re ten minutes into the film, we know that vampires are common, brazen, violent hedonists who have their own language and enclaves, that they burst into flame in a really cool way when they die, and that Wesley Snipes can kill the absolute shit out of them because he’s got superpowers.  We did not actually need to be told any of this, and we didn’t notice that we were learning it because it’s happening around a straight bitchin’ action sequence.

Do we get exposition dumps?  Of course.  Do we get lots of scenes designed to appeal to the V:tM crowd?  Oh heeeeeell yes.  Is it all shot with the lurking conviction that any second now, another absolutely tits-out fight is going to happen?  Also hell yes.  If you make something sleek enough, cast charismatic actors, and heavily imply that the action’s gonna start back up any second, people really do not care how much bullshit mythos you’re shoving at them.

Blade provided a ready-made and very, very good template for every superhero movie to come after it, especially the ones based on pre-existing properties.  If you hook the audience in the first fifteen minutes and keep that tension going, if you cast people who are 110% committed to selling everything the film brings to the table, you can throw in whatever dumbass bullshit you want in between doses of well-staged action and scenery chewing.  Blade was a fucking master class in getting the audience to follow you down a rabbit hole.

It’s twenty years old, and there’s a lot about it that’s dated--the cinematography especially has a lot of MTV-inflected, heavy-handed and hamfisted 90s flourishes that directors fortunately grew out of in favor of new and different heavy-handed and hamfisted flourishes--but the basic beats and rhythm of the film are as solid now as they were when it came out.  It helps that a lot of the characterization and plot are a straightforward, common trope, except that they’re not offered in a way that feels insulting or lazy.  Those never really go out of style, so long as they’re not presented badly. 

And thanks to Blade, every serious-business superhero movie that came out after, say, 2000 has absolutely no excuse for frontloading confusing, boring, garbagey exposition and shitty, cliched character-building.  Just look at a scene and go, “How would Blade handle this?” and then do that. 

If you can’t manage that, then go, “How would Fifth Element handle this?” and then do something really fucking weird and offer zero further explanation for it.  Look the audience in the eye and dare them to keep up.  Like, I don’t fucking know, man.  Blade’s not a complicated film, if you can’t manage to learn its lessons as a professional filmmaker, maybe hit the books until you can be trusted with millions of dollars?

*Not to be all like “Oooooh, The Matrix,” but it’s really, really difficult to overestimate how many doors The Matrix opened for movies that could be described as “The Matrix, but with ______” on account of how desperate studios were to replicate that box office success.  They bankrolled a lot of movies on the gamble of seeing that kind of return, and audiences who’d gotten used to being handed garbage without a reliable way to pre-filter (Google dropped in ‘97, kids) were easier to entice with the promise of that sort of viewing experience.

[saturnsstufff]

The Empress (pt.II)

Hello again! I hope your having an amazing day, night, or morning! Don't forget to drink water!

Warnings: mention of Alcohol, swearing

Words: 5,951

   The time spent on the ship was long, tiring and freezing. The weather danced between rain, sleet, snow, and hail. Complete opposite of what conditions you were used to. But thankfully land was just up ahead. The ever changing weather shifting finally for snow. As the snow danced in the sky you couldn't help notice the beauty, back at your village snow was basically never seen. unless you went to the higher elevations that is.

   As you approached the tiny harbor the captain made it very clear he would not be staying. He was here to drop you off and leave, not wanting to stay long at the Empire. This had you chewing your lip, finding your way home would be up to you at the end of this. Which wouldn't be so bad usually, but you didn't know anyone. So it was bad.

   When they docked you took your things. The sword carefully wrapped up and strapped to your back, your bag sitting atop it. you'd be damned if your going to loose that blade now that you were finally at your destination. You carefully got off the boat with a little help from a crew member. Trying not to fall from the ice already forming.

   The first thing you could notice about the land was the unfamiliar sharp smell in the air of winter. It was absolutely freezing. You pulled your cloak around you more, slowly making your way to the small village. The land definitely wasn't welcoming. Besides the village there was just plain barren land, draped with light fluffy snow. The village was however quaint. Logged cabins stood as a contrast against the white snow. Smoke rose up into the air by winding, and straight chimneys. Looking around at the village almost looked like a nice painting. But when you look up you realize the quaint little village was surrounded by ice spikes. They looked as if the gods had thrown them as spears, impaling the earth. Although beautiful, the thought of one of them crashing down on you, had you weary.

   The people were the second thing you noticed. They were mostly hybrids, but humans were also seen wondering about. As you walked away from the harbor more people came into view. The people were so beautiful, it almost took you by surprise. Tucked beneath large fur lined cloaks you could see a similarly of sharp featured faces. Even the human hybrids looked ethereal, ranging from tall divine Enderman, Piglins, animals, your sure you even saw a Shulkerbox.

   The once quiet humming streets were soon differentiated by a loud buzzing noise that shook you from your admiring state, your turned to see rather large... things? The things you were looking at were made out of metal, that much you could easily see. A bright blue painted sun sat on the side. The signa of the Antarctic Empire. On the top of the metal contraption there were wings. Two of them, spanning way out on the sides. The things slowly circled until they landed in the barren field. There were four of them, all of them slowly landing one at a time. Slowly they moving to the village edge. You sat and watched with curiosity until the buzzing had stopped.

   At this point you realized how cold you were. You tore your eyes away from the metal contraptions. Looking around for a place to seek warmth. You saw a Bar up ahead and instantly knew that would be the best place to start. Walking over, minding the large banks of snow, you pushed the door open. Instantly you met with a rush of warm air. A smile fell on your lips, man you missed that feeling. Being on the boat they only had lanterns, and you better believe that did not keep you warm. You pushed in further. Looking around for a seat, the only ones you could find were at the Bar it self. Setting your bag by your feet, sword still strapped to your back you climbed onto the stool. You couldn't help but look around at the décor. Behind the bar, the shelfs were covered with random bottles and bottles of liquor. Some almost gone and some not even opened yet. The walls were lined with mounts from hunts, elk, deer, the occasional game animals. The one that shocked you was the bear. Back at your village bear was not local, so seeing a mount of one, and the sheer size they were was kind of terrifying.

   The bar it self was mostly filled with men and the occasional women. Some people were gambling, but most were just drinking and laughing. Enjoying each others company. After summing the atmosphere up you turned to the bartender and offered a shy smile.

   "Wha'd you like?" He asked, his voice was deep and gruff. He was dressed very nice, a vest with a white button up. His hair combed back, he looked like he was ready for a date with someone. He had a hard face, but did offer a smile.

   "Whatever you recommend?..." You asked a bit sheepishly. He smiled wider, nodding before he turned his back. Starting to prepare your drink. You took your time to look around more. The wood of the bar under your hands was nice, kinda reminded you of sitting back at the kitchen table with your family. Your family. The thought of them pained you. After being away for a bit you came to see how much of a homebody you really were. Your mothers kind smile, morning coffee with your father, the roosters crowing to alert the farmers of morn. The smell of dew on the grass. The sigh that escaped your lips was one of lonesome.

   Unbeknownst to you, a stranger had entered the bar. The quiet chatter soon died down to nothing. A few groups of people even decided to leave the bar as a whole. The strange man, a tall one for sure, pulled out the stool and sat next to you. With him came three men as well. All were dressed in high ranking military attire. Combat boots adorned there feet well heavy cloaks draped there shoulders. Beneath the cloaks something was definitely poking up towards the ceiling. The fur that lined the cloaks was not mere rabbit or minx. It was big, and definitely fluffy. But oh so warm. The fourth man, the strange tall man, stood out. He was in a heavy cloak as well, but also in robes of green instead of blues. He wore a white hat with green stripes. His face had a bit of stubble, but it looked nice. His hair was sandy blonde, with fairly straight locks. It was a tad on the longer side, but he had it pulled into the hat mostly. Only a braid and a bit of bangs poped out the front. Besides the normality of his appearance, the thing that stuck out were his Great wings. There were the color of a raven, but on a much greater scale.

   "Hello" His voice rang though as he addressed the bartender. This caught your attention, pulling you from your thoughts of your parents. Looking to the men you had immediately noticed the military attire, it was unsettling to say the least. You glanced away, feeling like you shouldn't be looking at them. The atmosphere had grown tense. Deciding to face down instead of the new company, you noticed the bartender had set a drink in front of you. The liquid was clear, unsure if it was water however due to a weird strong burning smell.

   Your attention was drawn back to the man again, he whispered something to the three military men before they left with a swift nod. for some reason the military men were more terrifying than the man next to you. At there leave, the blonde gentleman was alone at the bar. His gaze met with your curious one.

   "Hello there little one" he said gently. His voice was kind, and light hearted. The smile that laced his lips was nothing near malicious.

   "Hello" with your reply you gave a light nod. Still a little unsure.

   "You don't look like your from around here" He must have known, or judged your lack of warmer heavier clothes. You could only nod in agreement. "What brings you to the Empire? You hav'ta be fucking stupid to come here for a vacation" he mused, his sight chuckle was warm to hear. You couldn't help but smile a bit at his contagious one.

   "I actually came to deliver this sword to the Empire.. I'm just uncertain how to get to the capital" his interest almost visibly double.

   "Really now" He removed his hat. Setting it aside, you could see a hanging emerald from his ear. "Did you make the sword yourself?" He took his drink and easily downed the whole thing, facing you for curiosity. Wherever he came from he was obviously very thirsty.

   "I did actually, I'm quite proud of it too.. i believe its the best one ive made yet" your smile grew wider. He hummed as he set the glass down with a light 'tink'. He shrugged his outer cloak off. You took note of how the slits were made to form around the massive wings.

   "Not many women smith's out there, if your blade is chosen i hav'ta think its a pretty damn good one. Do you have your letter?" He inquired. You nodded. Leaning down, sifting through your things. Pulling out the neatly folded letter. You gently handed it to him. His hands were gloved with thick black leather, guarding what you assume is his hands from the climate. He opened the letter and glanced it over, his eyes lingering the seal. "Well I'll be damned. Alrighty then. Do you need a ride by chance?" You tilted your head a bit. Taking the letter back.

   "A ride?" He chuckled, Nodding to you.

   "You don't have a idea where the capital is do you?" You shook your head slowly. Feeling a little foolish now. "Hey, hey. I didn't mean it rudely. Your not familiar around here. I gotta swing by the capital after this stop. I could give you a ride if you would like. Save ya' a lot of trudging in the snow.".

   "Oh! R-right!" You nodded. "Please id actually really like that".

   "Perfect, we can leave whenever you'd like. Although I recommend we leave soon. Flying at night is a fuckin' nightmare" he stated.

   Your brow furrowed. "Flying? You mean with your wings?".

   "No mate, I mean with the plane". He leaned in his chair. Folding his hands on his lap. His strong blue eyes never waved away from yours. When he leaned back you noticed a long hilt attached to his hip. Your eyes flickered from his eyes to the hilt.

   "What's a plane?" You asked curiosity lingering your voice. He laughed a deep chested laugh. Only making you feel a bit stupid at your question now. When he noticed you weren't joking he went surprised.

   "Oh your actually serious. Erm.." he paused a bit. Trying to think. "Where exactly do you come from?" He asked. Leaning closer to you now. His brows were slightly knit together in confusion.

   "Oh.. I uhm. came from a small village out in Madagascar." You watched him as you moved your hands to your lap.

   "You haven't seen a plane?" He asked again. Almost just to clarify that if you were joking, this would be the time to out yourself. You shook your head. "Hunh. Well then.." he said Shrugging. "Fair enough. Here come with me." He said as he stood, brushing his hair back before placing his cap on. He patted his coat a bit. You watched. Assuming he meant for you to stand was well. "Shit.." he mumbled. You realized he was looking for money.

   "Oh- here I got it" you dug in your pocket and handed a few coins over to the bartender. The blonde watched. Almost mentally taking note. The bartender gave you a weird look when you handed the money over.

   "You didn't drink your glass miss" you looked down and realized. You took it and took a sip expecting water. It wasn't water. You nearly spit it out. But swallowed instead to spare the embarrassment. The blonde man laughed at your face as it contorted into disgust. It burned the whole way down your throat, filling your body with a quick glow of warmth. The stranger took the glass from you and took a wif, laughing more before easily downing it.

   "Good to know vodka doesn't agree with you" he said still laughing. You watched as he set the glass down, pulling his cloak on. Well you grabbed your things you looked up and noticed he had a signa of the empire on it.

   "Why does it burn so much?.." you asked, wishing you never took that sip. He mused at you well you two walked side by side together.

   "Ah, don't worry so much on it. I have actual water in the plane you can have" he walked towards the metal contraption with you. At this you assumed this was a 'plane'. Gods was it big.

   "How does it fly?" You asked looking it over in curiosity. He only hummed before answering.

   "Its actually really simple. The propeller in the front will spin and gets air going. Once there's enough momentum it will pull the plane forward, i just steer it up and we will glide." He explained as if it was the simplest thing in the world. You didn't quite fully understand. But something told you he didn't expect you too. He climbed up and asked for your bag. Placing it in the plane where there were two seats. After your bag was situated he offered you a heavy cloak. It was lined with thick fur. "Your going to want this. It gets cold in flight. You nodded and pulled it on your shoulders. Instantly feeling the warmth and heaviness the cloak brought. You saw his hand come down reaching for yours. "Here let me help you up" his hand was firm and definitely a strong one. Pulling you up like it was nothing. Once you were on the wing of the plane he helped you steady yourself. He grabbed your waist without warning and lifted you up like a child. "Go ahead and step in- Mind your feet though, step on the seat and then sit" you fallowed his instructions. Feeling his grip slip from your waist as you sunk into the cockpit. You took note at how low you sat in the seat, there were buttons and two weird looking things beside you. They were long and bulky, you wouldn't touch them since you obviously had no idea what they did. He easily hopped into the front seat well he folded his wings carefully. Being mindful of the limited space the seats offered.

   "I never caught your name" you said looking up to the back of the man.

   "Oh that's right, I'm Philza. What's your name?" He asked as he turned his head towards you a bit.

   "Nice to meet you Philza, I'm (y/n)" he smiled more fallowing it up with him being pleased to meet you. "If I can ask. What are these?" You inquired. Pointing to the bulky long things next to you.

   "Oh those are my rifles'" he stated simply. You blinked in slight confusion. 'Rifles? The hell's a Rifle?' Your silence gave away your confusion. "Its a Gun. A type of weapon. Its faster than a bow and just as dangerous" you gave a little 'oh' in response. "The safety is on. It cant hurt you, I promise" he stated as he started up the plane. The loud buzzing starting up. "I usually fly alone, unless I'm with Tech. This should he interesting" he said with a wide smile. You felt the plane lurch before it moved. On instinct you gripped your seat. You were forced back as the plane lifted up from the ground. You couldn't help but watch as the little village grew smaller. You soon got awfully high, it was frightening to say the least. But something told you the man driving wouldn't let anything hurt you. Philza carefully maneuvered around the giant ice spikes. Flying with ease like a bird. "Go ahead and get comfortable. We'll be a slight bit" you saw him adjust in his seat, presumably getting more comfortable. You glanced the ground again before sinking into your seat yourself. Pulling the cloak around you more, enjoying the warmth it brought you. The loud buzz made you realize you were honestly quite tired. Well you were on the ship you worked from dawn until past dusk. Feeling no forceful urge to do anything currently, you let the gentle rock of the plane lull you to sleep.

   "Aye, kiddo?" You herd someone call, nudging you a slight bit. You shifted, realizing you were in a seat. Memories from before your nap rushed forward as you opened your eyes, wiping the sleep from them. Phil sat with a smile as he stood on the wing of the plane. "Took a nap i see. Don't blame you, c'mon lets get you inside." Your eyes flickered around, sleep still lingering making your eyes heavy. It was now nighttime, and Phil was right the temperature does drop when the sun goes down. "Were at the palace" he said as he took your shoulders. Lifting you up like a child again. Setting you on the wing of the plane. You held onto his arm to steady yourself.

   "Palace?" You mumbled. Still trying to wake up more. Phil just gave a hum and a firm nod before handing you your bag, and the blade. He stepped off the wing and helped you down. You thanked him and looked around in awe. You were in a large open room. Planes were lined up everywhere, it honestly was amazing.

   "Fallow me" he stated. Smiling at you as he made his way across the floor. You fallowed, walking around the lined up planes. Soon you two found a corridor. The walls were made of whites, greys, blues and the occasional green-blue-ish tint. Pillars lined the corridors, as small candle lit chandeliers illuminated them. Shadows dancing with the flick of the flame. The floors were carpeted down the middle. White marble on the outsides. The dark oak details contrasted all the white so beautifully.

   "Dadza!!" You herd a child yell. You turned with Phil to see a boy no older than 12 with brown hair running to phil. His curls bounced as he ran, his wide smile shining. The child, was more than beaming with love as he threw himself into Philza's arms.

   "Hi bud" Phil had bended down to the Childs size. Hugging him close to his chest. As he smiled back at the child before he explained to you. "(Y/n), this is my son Wilbur" you gave a nod as Wilbur waved cheerfully. Hugging tightly to his father. Phil rested his hand on top of Wilbur’s head, ruffling the curls. You didn't think he was a father, but somehow now that you see him with a child- his son to be exact. How he treated you now, and back at the bar, makes sense now.

   "Tech, said you wouldn't be here until tomorrow!" Wil said cheerfully, having a awful lot of energy for the time of night. Wil was honestly an adorable child. He was tall, thin, but very well dressed. Golden glasses rested on his nose, his attire consisted of a white button down, and simple black pants. his sleeves were rolled up slightly, showing he was working. happy enough to say, you could tell he was well taken care of. You herd the name 'Tech' get thrown around again. You herd Phil mention that name before you fell asleep, but it never really stuck out.

   "Did he now" the boy hummed in agreement. "Did he also scold you for being out of bed?" Phil lifted a brow challengingly to Wil. His tone taking on a more strict role. In response Wil merely shrugged. 

“He may have mentioned it.” Wil’s tone was casual, it also showed that he didn't take Phil’s tone too seriously. Phil in turn just rolled his eyes with a sigh.

   We came to two tall wooden doors. A guard opening one at the sight of Phil, and Wilbur. You still weren't sure how, or why, you were in the palace. Nor how no one questioned your presence. You didn't feel like questioning much. Feeling like you were far out of the loop quite honestly.

   Past the doors was a medium sized circular room. In the center stood a tall man. His shoulders were wide and brawn. He had a boar's skull as a mask. The tusk's adorned with jewelry. His ears were well pierced with golden chains and tiny diamonds. You caught that like Phil, the man had a single emerald earring. He definitely stood out to say the least. He had pink hair, neatly pulled into a ponytail. Braids shown through his hair, offering a contrast to the soft flowing pink. On one braid he had a black feather attached. His clothes shown a higher status. He had a white button down that was slightly undone at the top, you saw reading glasses attached on a chain that hung around his neck. A red sash sat wrapped around his waist, pulling together the white and black he wore. He had a larger sword strapped to his waist, the hilt of the sword was long and adorned with gold. His black pants were neatly tucked into his boots. He stood arms crossed. Almost like he was expecting Phil.

   "Eh?.." was all he said when he saw you and phil.

   "Ah Techno. I see your still awake too" the man called 'Techno' gave a nod to phil. "(Y/n), this is my other son, Technoblade" you looked from Phil, to Wil, and then to techno. There was a age gap between the boys, but you couldn't tell the exact age. Techno’s stature made you assume he was much older. since he was taller than Phil, not by much however."(Y/n) is here for the weapon call. She has her letter if you would like to see" Phil explained to techno. Instead of a response techno merely faced you. You were not able to see his eyes or much of a expression. Only his jaw was seen since the boar skull had no lower jaw. Techno's jaw however sat in a stoic, locked placement. Soon his monotone voice came through. It was low, smooth and captivating.

   "You came for the weapon call?" He questioned, his voice, nor his stance wavered. the closer you got to Techno you saw how broad he was built. His shoulders looked as if he could have supported anvil’s on them. His stature and his voice made him very menacing. You gave a slight nod. Techno only faced you shortly before he faced Phil again. "I'll test the weapon tomorrow." He stated plainly. You saw Phil nod his head in agreement.

   Phil faced you next "We have a spare room you can stay in" he flashed you a warm smile. Techno stood beside him, contrasting the warmth you felt from Phil. Techno however, did step back to allow you to fallow Phil. Techno never looked away from you. He was facing you well you passed. It unnerved you a little, you couldn't see his eyes, but man you could tell he was staring at you. The thought of how one man could have a happy smiling boy, and then one that stuck fear into you for simply breathing his air didn't make a lick of sense. Scary or not you would give it to Techno. He made terrifying look nice.

   The palace was larger than you expected, but still beyond elegant. Wil wondered beside Phil casually. Thinking on the ‘Weapon Call’ you decided now was a good time to bring it up. well fallowing Phil down the beautiful corridors you spoke up.

   “is there anyone else here?” you watched Phil’s back. Well walking the halls he had removed his cap, so you were at least able to see his expression a bit. from what you could see he was pondering his answer.

   “Yeah.. Yeah, no we’ve had others here for it” the suggestion of ‘had’ made your brows knit together. Wil shot a glance back to you before glancing his father. Phil must have took this as a chance to explain. “we had a few people show, they couldn't beat the test however.” his tone was casual. the idea of a test made your stomach drop. ‘what kind of test?’, ‘what will they do to the blade?’, ‘what happens if I fail?’, questions raced your mind. 

   “t...test?” you worded it hesitantly, only earning a hum of agreement. 

   “techno is very peculiar on what he wants in a sword. it has to fit to his strength and his taste.” Phil paused briefly, “Sadly no sword so far, has been strong enough to withstand his strength.”. oh you could have died on the spot at that. that was the equivalent of ‘Oh yeah, thanks for coming thousands of miles. here's your participation ribbon’. the only response you could muster was a simple ‘Oh’. At your response Wil turned to face you, walking backwards. 

   “Don't feel discouraged, techno can be a mighty dick when he wants to be-” at that you stifled a laugh as he was swatted upside the head by Phil.

    after the light comment from Wil, the three of you fell into silence. occasionally you saw a painting or two, one did stand out though upon passing. There was a beautiful woman, she looked kinder than any woman you’ve seen to be honest. In her arms was a baby, wrapped up and peacefully asleep. By her arms stood Phil, he had a kind, warm smile. Your eyes moved down the painting. in between the couple stood a young child, he had pink hair and a shy smile. he looked like a sweet kid, you could automatically assume who the family was just from the child and Phil.

   Soon the room came to view. it was at the end of the corridor, which honestly didn't bother you. The thought of a comfortable bed  had you more excited than you cared to admit. Phil opened the door for you. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. breakfast is around six to ten.” Phil and Wil watched you walk in, looking around in awe at the glorious room. “I’ll have a maid get you some warmer clothes too. If your staying for a bit I can promise you will want something heavier than what you have.” You turned back to face him a thankful smile on your lips.

   “Thank you...” you were so thankful. You knew you would have to find a way to make it up to them for letting you stay. Especially without the permission of the Emperor. Phil nodded and bid a goodnight with Wil at his side. When you herd the door ‘click’ shut you couldn't help but look around again. So much had happened in under 24 hours that processing it all was hard. What started as meeting a strange man in a bar, turned into staying at the palace. talk about right time, right place. You smiled at the thought, you hoped that whatever was guiding you would continue.

   You set your bag down at the foot of the bed. taking the blade off your back. it was heavy, feeling the weight lifted off was a blessing all by itself. you carefully set the blade on the ottoman at the end of your bed. you turned your head towards the window. when you approached you didn't expect to see much, but oh you should have. outside was a view worth a million words. It wasn't a village, it was a prosperous city. Massive didn't even begin to explain the size. You couldn't even fathom how many people lived here. the city could have held your small village twenty times over. you knew the Antarctica Empire was large and powerful. but you never expected this. Your smile fell slowly.

   At that though you looked away from the city, facing back into your room. the four post bed was calling your name. Grabbing your clothes from your bag you changed into something you could comfortably sleep in. well changing new thoughts raced your mind. you knew the empire was known for being harsh and dangerous. yet so far all you have seen is beauty and kindness. this made you weary ‘was this all a painted face?’, ‘was this what they wanted you to see?’ ‘under this, is the whole country suffering under dictatorship?’. you thought back to Phil's face, the smiles he offered you. The Painting of the family. nothing said they were malicious. But nothing cemented that they were also kind people. you were a traveler. a foreigner, you didn't belong here. Your only here because your bringing a ‘gift’. When the gift looses its price then what? What will happen to you? What happened to those who gave blades previously?

   You didn't want to think anymore. You simply wanted to sleep. Pushing the heavy covers back you crawled into the unfamiliar bed. You pulled and pushed pillows until you could find a comfortable spot. You adjusted your head a bit and slowly fell into the embrace of a deep sleep. 

   Morning came faster than you anticipated. There were no birds chirping or the sound of deep waves rolling. Instead it was a warm fireplace. You rolled over, rubbing your eyes before arching your back in a stretch. The bed was warm and pleasant. You rolled your head and saw a pair of blue toned clothes at the foot of the bed. Those must have been the clothes that Phil mentioned last night. you found a old grandfathers clock in the corner. The hands pointed at 8:26. Thinking over what may await today you pushed yourself up. Gently running your fingers over the material, you were genuinely surprised. it was heavy and from what you would gage, warm. a sweet smell lingered, looking about you saw there was a bathroom connected. walking closer the smell of Chai grew. there was a bath prepared for you. you glanced the time, the clothes and then the bath again. ‘I mean it wouldn't hurt’.

   You cleaned yourself, the water wasn't scalding hot, but it was just enough. It was welcoming. The baths on the ship were nothing to this, the ones on the sea were often cold and nothing you wanted to linger in. Where here you could stay in the warm water all day, if you thought you could get away with it. You didn't linger though. You simply cleaned up and stepped out. letting the water out. Stepping out of the bathroom was horrible. The steam had tricked you into a false security of warmth. The room was cold, goosebumps ran your skin making you hurry to dress. The clothes were made incredibly well. Nothing from what you had back at your village. The base of the clothes consisted of a long black shirt and simple black pants. After that it was simple layering. You had a jacket similar to a cloak almost, over that a simple blue cape to drape over your shoulders. you assumed it had no signa to show you were not one of the empires people. There were gold as accents on the sleeves of the jacket, and on the cape itself. the whole fit was elegant. you saw your old shoes next to boots. slipping the boots on you wondered out. to find something to eat. your stomach turning in knots from the lack of food. 

   when you turned the corner you saw Phil. he smiled at you “Ah, just  came to see if you were up” he was dressed similar to last night. only instead he had no fluffy cloak or hat atop is head, he only had simple blue robes. his wings were spread slightly. but he payed no mind to them. he offered you a arm. “Ready for food? hope we have somthi’n you like” you smiled kindly.

   “I'm sure anything you offer I will be ok with, I still owe you for letting me stay” you said, looking out the windows of the corridor. the day was brilliant. blue skies and a bright sun. the sun came through the windows. warming you more when you passed through it’s rays.

   “awh, I wouldn't think too much on it. after all you came all this way on your own” he was right, you did make this trip all by yourself. something you were proud to say you did. Phil opened a dark oak door to show a nice table. Techno sat at the head of the table, Wilbur sitting to the left of him. There were two empty prepared seats to his right you assumed this was for Phil and you. 

   Wilbur was already digging into his breakfast like it was his last meal. God forbid if anyone put there hand between his food and his mouth, they may have lost it. he was dressed up a bit more than you recall previously. his white button down now had a jacket overtop, with a few draping pendants. his elegant clothes contrasted his hair that was still a wild curly mess. 

   Unlike last night Techno was dressed even more extravagant. instead of his white button down, he was in a military's uniform. A cape adorned his sturdy shoulders draping elegantly on him. unlike yesterday he did not have his reading glasses, instead it was replaced by golden chains and pendants. his hair was similar to yesterday, only instead it was braided back, tinier braids were swept into the main braid. one of them having the feather. not a strand of hair fell out of place. beneath the pink you could see the emerald earing he wore. the same one Phil wore. the thing that stuck out the most was the golden crown that adorned his head. His hands were folded, his chin resting on them. his face was still hidden by the Boar skull. but that didn't stop you from seeing all the rings that he wore.

“mornin’ Tech, Wil” Phil said casually. he only had a response from techno, but even then it was monotone. your eyes watched the crown on Techno's head. after seeing all the signs you now realized that you were staying with the royal family. Where Phil took his seat you had stopped mid tracks. ‘could you even eat with them?’ Phil gave you a weird look. “somthin’ wrong (y/n)?” 

   “Can I eat with you?” they way you said that made you sound childish, but in fact it was a genuine question. At your words Phil get out a laugh.

   “Of course you can, what’d you think we’d do? eat in front of you?” he was amused at you. His smile wide as Wil stopped eating to look up at you. “what makes you think your not welcome to eat with us?” he questioned, his tone shifting softer.

   “Your the Royal family. I didn't think...” you trailed off as techno spoke. 

   “A Emperor is simply a title. If he cannot break bread with others, he has no right to claim the throne that he sits on. You and I are humans. let us break bread” he said simply. 

[very-something-z]

in an effort to get some of my mutuals to read worm I'll try to give brief spoiler free synopsis of some of the characters (mostly their powers).

Main Cast

Taylor/Skitter: 15 bullied girl controls bugs in biblical proportions, bites off more than she can chew still wins somehow??

Lisa/Tattletale: 16 self describes powers as "Sherlock Holmes on drugs", is asexual

Brian/Grue: 17 Incredibly handsome, power essentially creates magical darkness dnd style

Alec/Regent: 15ish trash boy with the worst home life like honestly if you thought Endeavor was bad you ain't seen nothing yet. can make peoples nerves fire kind of like a twitch.

Rachel/Bitch: 16ish yes that's her name no she wont change it fuck you for asking. Butch, likes dogs.

The Local Protectorate

the government sponsored heroes

Armsmaster: acts more like a robot than actual robots, is the batman ironman type guy.

Miss Militia: Was a literal child soldier before immigrating to the US, basically green lantern but only guns.

Assault & Battery: Battery was a young heroine with minor electric powers who captured a villain who basically said I'll be a good guy but only if you marry me, she said yes. he renamed himself assault.

Velocity: An extremely poor man's Flash like seriously 0.50$ bargain bin

Dauntless: Is cooler than Armsmaster, no Armsmaster is NOT jealous.

Triumph: Recently turned 18. Yells.

Wards

also government, but for kids under 18

Aegis: Worst flying brick of all time ever.

Gallant: Emotion powers.

Clockblocker: hates his job and his life, uses humor to cope. it isnt working. can pause things if he touches them.

Kid Win: if Ironman was a kid with dyscalculia. rides a hoverboard.

Vista: is like 12, has been a hero for like 2 years has been on the team longer then everyone except Aegis maybe.

Shadow Stalker: is trying very hard to be the edgy vigilante. comes with crossbows. has hate boner for Grue.

New Wave

was a local hero team who decided to do a face reveal. Have kids who are also heroes.

Lady Photon/Sarah Pelham: flight, force fields, and lasers oh my. nicknamed Photon Mom. Trusts her sister a little too much.

Manpower/Neil Pelham: 7'0" tall buff super strength with an electro magnetic force field.

Laserdream/Crystal Pelham: 19 is just trying to go to college. same powers as mom faster flight more powerful lasers weaker shield. Idk if this was just me but massive lesbian energies.

Shielder/Eric Pelham: everyone gets this wrong but apparently hes 14?? Same deal as his mom but the opposite of his sister, slower flight, weaker lasers, better shields.

Brandish/Carol Dallon: Isn't the best mom. A decent lawyer. creates hard light objects like swords. Lady Photons sister.

Flashbang/Mark Dallon: is depressed. his powers are a flashbang literally.

Glory Girl/Victoria Dallon: 17. is dating Gallant. flight, personal force field, super strength, and a like me emotion aura.

Panacea/Amy Dallon: 15 is adopted. "healing" powers. needs serious psychological help. is later retconned to be the same age as glory girl.

Villains

I'm doing the leaders because fuck Doing all 14 of the nazis.

Lung: runs the Asian Bad Boyz. Its scarier than it sounds. turns into a dragon.

Kiaser: runs Empire 88 a neo nazi gang. is also a huge dickhead. makes metal blades out of other metal.

Skidmark: is about as threatening as his name would suggest which is not at all. has a foul mouth. run the Archers Bridge Merchants.

Faultline: is a total mom. in denial about being a mom. has adopted 3 children and 1 grown man. Hates Tattletale. Is a mercenary. doesn't kill. is a total mom.

Purity: was married to Kaiser. is trying hard to take the kids in the divorce. left Empire 88 to try and be a solo hero. is still racist.

Coil: a big ol' spoiler.

Misc.

Parian: does puppet shows for the kids using her power to control textiles to animate stuffed animals. is in college for fashion design. is middle eastern and very gay.

Eidolon: has the power of that one kid in third grade who would just make up new powers on the fly when playing superhero. is the strongest of the big three super heroes in the US. needs worthy opponents.

Alexandria: is THE flying brick. in universe all other flying bricks are referred to as alexandria packages. one of the big three. is kind of a bitch.

Legend: the only member of the big three who is genuinely nice. does lasers with a multitude of effects and flies at light speed. is gay and has a husband and son. sometimes makes rainbows as he flies because he can.

The Number Man: is THE villain banker. numbers hard enough to have a triple digit kill count.

Scion: the first person to have powers. just appeared one day out of thin air above the Atlantic ocean floating mid-air naked glowing golden skin.

Accord: Villain with plans to solve world hunger. OCD so bad it sends him into a homicidal rage.

[jadedsnowtiger]

She was evil, born of rape and torture. Rachel was born with the intent to destroy worlds. She had even killed, mostly in self defense but she still killed someone. Raised by a mother terrified of her powers, Rachel never learned how to make a connection. Rachel had no honest idea how to ask for comfort, so on nights where it got too much she would lock herself in the bathroom door and crawl into the tub and allow herself to cry.

One day after an extremely hard day at school Rachel found herself holding a blade to her wrist, crying as she watched for the first time as she had control over something. She could control the cut, the length, the depth it was something she could control when her mind betrayed her. Marks for times she had been pushed, or shoved around at school, being called a whore always hurt- it also made the deepest cut.

Over the years, it has been easy to hide them, the white lines lay on her inner thigh and hips. Rachel didn't wear anything without a fishnet layer to make the marks unnoticeable.

Tonight wasn't supposed to happen, she had been good, she had been using the tools, she cleaned for almost 20 days, she had ten more days before she reached her goal.

But then tonight happened.

On the way to a dance club with the boys, they stood powerless, as they witnessed the collision. The second car lost control, as it was sent flying into a mother and son. The mother died on impact, the child however lasted a little longer. She pulled the dying child in her arms, knowing he wasn't able to be saved.

"Are you there?" Gars' voice softly spoke through the door.

"Go away!" Rachel screamed and shook, as she jumped in the tub causing several bottles to fall, the noise forced the door open.

Gar looks at the scene, Rachel crying so deeply her tears were black as she hid in the tub. A dagger on the tub's edge with several drops of blood sitting around it's bloody handle.

"Mama?" Gar spoke gently, slowly moving slowly unsure of how she would react. "Mama, can I take the dagger?"

Rachel shook her head, as she moved to grab it pull it closer, but Gar was faster tossing it to the door.

"Mama." Gr spoke gently as he looked at the pantless Rachel, sitting on only a tang top and her underwear and she curled up into a ball. With a scream Rachel shook her head, burying herself into her folded legs, three red slashes looked raw, as they bleed.

"Are you still angry?" Gar asked softly.

Rachel looked up nodding, before Gar reached into the tub, turning the shower on cold blasting the tub with it.

"Healthier way to deal." Gar told her gently. "The cold water stings too."

"I am sorry." Rachel shook as she rocked. "I'm sorry. I am sorry."

"For what?" Gar asked softly sitting down, on the opposite side of the tub joining her.

"I didn't save him." Rachel shook her head. "I tried so hard."

The child was so young, blood red hair, blue eyes with freckles. His eyes were the colour of the sky, so bright even with the life fading from them. He had been so small, he fit into her lap, as she cuddled him as he cried for his mother.

Rachel cried, why did her magic fail her. "I couldn't save him."

"He was already gone, Mama." Gar spoke gently. "You can't raise the dead."

Rachel shook her head as the guilt filled her

as she cried into her lap.

"Mama." Gar reached over petting her hair. "You can't bring back the dead."

Rachel shook her head. "James was talking to me, he was alive."

The child's name was James, he wanted to be a superhero like the Green Lantern.

"He really wasn't Rachel." Gar shook his head. Rachel leaned over crying as Gar ran his hand over her back "He was dieing."

Gar shighed gently, as he held her kissing her head.

"You gave James, a painless death." Gar spoke softly. "Talked him through the fear, kept him calm."

Rachel nodded, as Gar leaned over her speaking.

"You held his hand, wiped his fear from his eyes." Gar smiled gently. "You did a good job, Mama."

Rachel whimpered as the water turned off, her wet cold clothing sticking to her skin as Gar wiped her hair away from her face.

"You did a good job, Mama."

Rachel sat crying softly, as Gar moved her to face him. "Such a good job, James was calm and at peace."

Rachel looked up as he spoke, "Peace?"

Gar smiled softly, taking her hands in to his. "I would say so, he wasn't scared looking at you. You even made him smile, when you told him, everyone gets wings in heaven."

Rachel nodded, as Gar looked over her wrist, checking her arms, the angry marks looking back at him as he kissed them softly.

"I know. He was very young, but with you holding his hands, he left in peace." Gar spoke as he helped her to stand. "His last moments were peaceful."

"He thanked me." Rachel asked confusedly, as she looked up.

"He was safe." Gar pulled her close, hugging her. "You're both safe."

"I am sorry." Rachel whispered into his neck as he hugged her tightly.

"I need to clean you up." Gar spoke gently, running his hand over her cheek. "Can you safely stand here for me?"

Rachel nodded as Gar moved away from the hug keeping her at arm length.

"Can I help you take off your wet clothing?"

"Please." Rachel looked up, as she shivered.

Gar smiled as he pulled her towel off the door, waking over to her. Helping Rachel out of the tight shirt, Gar was thankful she had on a bra, as he pulled it off Rachel's shoulders dropping the wet shirt leaving his best friend in just her underwear.

Gar smiled through his nerves as he wrapped Rachel up in the towel.

"There we go." Gar smiled as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Cuddly demon."

"I don't cuddle." Rachel spoke softly.

"You cuddle me." Gar smiled as he sat her down on the bathtub. "I get the best cuddles."

Rachel smiled as Gar moved to collect the red box under the bathroom sink, opening it as he dumped the contents looking for what he needed.

"It was organized." Rachel looked on, knowing she would have to fix it at a later date.

"Well the wraps are always at the bottom." Gar smiled, flashing his fang, as he walked back with his hand full.

"Sleep with me tonight Mama?" Gar asked gently as he started to work. "Let me take care of you for once."

Rachel looked away as he cleaned the cuts gently blowing on them, before placing a cream onto the cuts.

"I'll make you tea, and we can cuddle. Do you want Kitty Gar?" Gar spoke gently as he worked, wrapping her leg.

Rachel nodded, staring at the wall.

"Yeah, I will sleep as a cat tonight." Gar looked up, sealing a kiss to the bandaged.

"Now with my love, you shall heal quicker." Gar smiled as he stood up, taking Rachel hand softly petting it as the goth looked lost.

"Mama." Gar spoke with a gentle grawl as Rachel looked at him. "Are you dissociating?"

Rachel nodded as the tears fell from her eyes.

Gar nodded, placing his hands on her knees noticing she was shaking.

"Let's get you into something warm, baby girl." Gat spoke gently, leading her out of the bathroom and sitting her on the bed.

Rachel didn't respond, as Gar looked to her worried.

"Let me find your PJs." Gar spoke gently as he reached across the bed placing her stuffed chicken on to her lap. "Watch Mama, I need to look for her clothes."

Gar moved to her dresser, opening it, preying he wouldn't find anything. Rachel was too detached to fight him off, he didn't want her to be angry for abusing this situation.

"Should I call Kori to help you?" Gar asked as he found a nightgown he pulled it out, hoping for a long length.

"No.. she will see." Rachel whispered back.

"Do you trust me to undress you?" Gar moved back as she nodded.

"Okay Mama." Gar moved in front of her, looking nervous he flashed his fang. Rachel turned to him blushing, as his hand shook, reaching for her towel.

"You worry me, Mama." Gar spoke gently, as he dropped the towel from around Rachel and had her hold her arms up to place the nightgown over her head. "One of these days, I can't lose you."

Rachel watched his green eyes turn gold.

"I can't stand the idea of you hurting yourself." Gar whispered, wrapping his arm around her waist pulling her close. "You're my best friend. You're my world, if I was to lose you-."

"I do love you." Rachel's voice broke, as buried her head in his chest.

Gar froze with a soft smile, as he hugged Rachel close, pulling her chin up to face him.

"I love you."

Gar kissed her softly, as he shivered. "But I'm still soaking wet, and you are warm and dryish."

Rachel nodded, as Gar kissed her.

"Kitty?"

Gar nodded as he started stripping, before a large green damp tiger made its way onto her bed. Rachel crawled beside him, as his paw held her in place as she closed her eyes as listened to Gar beside her.

"I am sorry." She told the tiger, rubbing his nose as she closed her eyes.

I love you. The tiger spoke, as his eyes watches her, as she started into them falling asleep.

[mimicteruyo]

The Little Teahouse Around the Corner

[Touhou Ship Week Day 7: Free day. KomaEiki + AkyuSuzu, 2.7k, crack/fluff]

---

If described very charitably, the construction before Eiki and Komachi could have been called a teahouse, exactly as the bamboo plank above the entrance claimed it was. More accurately, it was simply a large tent lit with red lanterns, standing conspicuously close to the Human Village.

"At least it's open?" Komachi eyed the obviously wet paint on the sign, then peered within. "I figured that at this hour, we'd have a choice between grilled lamprey and nothing this close to the village."

"Indeed." Eiki followed Komachi's example. There were certainly plenty of people within, each with a beverage in front of them, but the overall mood in the tent was quietly puzzled. Besides chairs and tables, there was also what looked bafflingly like an oden cart. "Something about this seems wrong."

"No worries, Sis! It ain't anything weird! We're runnin' a perfectly nice temp teahouse!"

They straightened up in unison. The speaker was a calico cat perched on a stool just barely to the side of the tent's entrance, grinning at them. "Lookin' for a cosy place to chat? We've got ya covered!"

Komachi grinned back. "Mike Goutokuji, right? Don't tell me this is your shop."

"It ain't. I'm just workin' here for a bit." Mike's tail swayed gently from side to side as she talked, its many-coloured fur catching the light of the lanterns. "I'm a barker! Which I know sounds really weird since I'm a cat an' all, but I can do the job. For a few days, anyway. Steady work doin' the same thing over an' over again ain't really my thing."

Komachi chuckled. "I know that feel— er."

Eiki chose to ignore the aborted remark. In any case, Mike's plans made it sound as though she was doing precisely what she supposed to do. Losing interest in things and loafing around were some of the chief goals in a cat's life, after all.

"Anyway," Mike curled up her palm. She beckoned three times. "Welcome to the Juniper Teahouse."

The next moment, Eiki found herself within the tent with no memory of stepping inside.

She halted, blinking in the sudden light. There were half a dozen customers within, humans and youkai alike, nursing teacups and expressions ranging from vexed to serene. Although there were multiple chairs for each table, every single customer was solitary. What had looked like an oden cart from the outside was precisely that; no-one appeared to man it, although the occasional bang and tuneful whistle from within it told her that someone was indeed there, just beyond sight.

"Komachi," she began, more puzzled than troubled even as she clutched the Rod of Remorse closer to her chest. "We should keep our eyes—"

It was at that moment that she became aware of a distinct lack of Komachi by her side. Only Mike was there, waving her legs in the air and looking very pleased with herself.

Eiki spun around. "Komachi?"

No answer. No sight of Komachi, either.

Standing by the entrance feeling foolish wasn't going to do anyone much good. Ignoring the slow blink Mike was giving her, Eiki stepped back outside.

And collided with an invisible barrier with enough force to momentarily bounce her off her feet. She staggered back in surprise.

Mike gave her an apologetic wince. "Sorry, Sis." Her tail swished low as Eiki studied her forehead for bumps. "After I've invited ya in, ya've gotta stay a while."

"Is this your ability?" Eiki prodded at the barrier with the Rod of Remorse. It proved as solid and unyielding as a ten-foot block of ice. "What happened to Komachi?"

"She'll be fine," said a familiar voice behind Eiki. "At least, she will be according to what Mike told me. You'll be a better judge of whether it's true or not."

Eiki turned to see a slightly less familiar face smiling at her close to the back of the tent and responded in kind. "I didn't notice you before. May I join you?"

Hieda no Akyuu assented with a nod. She waited for Eiki to take the seat opposite of her before continuing. "I hope you've been well. This present situation expected, of course."

Eiki crossed her hands on the table. "I would say so. The situation in Hell remains both confusing and volatile, but that's to be expected. Has your work progressed well?"

Akyuu took a careful sip from her cup. "It has, thank you. I've kept comfortably busy. And Kosuzu..." Akyuu's smile, which bore a distinct resemblance to that of her previous incarnation, brightened and then immediately dimmed. "I hope you don't mind my saying this, but I expected her to sit where you sit now." Her smile grew more rueful still. "Especially since she's the one who wished to come here."

"Has this establishment..." Eiki gestured at their surroundings and discovered that she couldn't call them that without correcting herself. "...Tent been here for long?"

"It appeared yesterday. As for me, I have been here for ten minutes. Mike informed me that it takes at least an hour for her invitations to be considered fulfilled."

"That's longer than I had hoped." Eiki frowned at the innocuous-looking exit and Mike, who was currently occupied with a moth circling the lantern nearest to the entrance before turning her attention back to Akyuu. "Can you tell me precisely what's going on in this place?"

"I can explain that!" a muddled but cheery voice called from the bottom of the oden cart.

---

Komachi had walked merrily along for several minutes, taking in the twilight air and seeing if she could get her breath to fog up in the lingering cold from the past winter, when she realised she had at no point decided to take an evening stroll. Moreover, she was now alone, something which was the exact opposite of her plans for the night.

She halted in the middle of the path and turned to look over her shoulder. The greenness of the teahouse tent blended into the evening behind her, but she could still see it when she squinted. Distance of course meant little to her: she could be back there nearly as soon as she decided upon it.

But first, it was best to figure what had happened. It was likely nothing serious: the situation had the feel of a fairy prank to it. Still, the fact that she couldn't actually remember what had passed rubbed her the wrong way.

"Alright..." She adjusted her scythe to rest more comfortably on her shoulder. "What happened here?"

So, there was the weird teahouse, and Mike, who did strike Komachi as bit of a prankster, but who had seemed earnest enough inviting them in. Had Mike addressed her invitation to Lady Eiki alone? No, Komachi was sure it had been extended to them both.

She recalled her only previous encounter with Mike, on a lazy afternoon not that long ago when she had wandered into Gensokyo and struck up a conversation with the cat upon meeting her on the road. Mike had mentioned arriving in Gensokyo not that long ago, having only recently left behind the temple she had been born at, and that due to circumstances she had done so before she had completed her training as a maneki—

"Damn."

At the moment of realisation, Komachi became aware of of running footsteps rapidly approaching her, just in time not to be entirely surprised by someone small but fast-moving crashing into her.

"Ow!" The person who had collided with her tottered back, holding a hand to her nose. Even in the dying light and with half her face covered, she was obviously Kosuzu Motoori. "I'm sorry! I just..."

Kosuzu trailed off. Her eyes travelled first up to Komachi's face, then to the blade of her scythe. She took a startled step back.

Komachi grinned. "No need to fret. You're not dying tonight."

Kosuzu relaxed quickly in that quietly alarming way of humans who made of habit of traipsing too close to the border of the mundane and the supernatural. As her shock drained away, it was replaced by an almost mournful expression, so out of place it was almost comical.

"What's the matter?" Komachi almost began walking to see if Kosuzu would follow, but she had a funny feeling it would only result in Kosuzu crashing into her again. "It's not wise for you to run alone on a dark night like this. Did someone refuse to return your favourite book?"

Kosuzu fidgeted with her sleeves. "No, nothing like that." For a moment, she looked hesitant to speak, but once she did, the words spilled out of her in a tumble. "Actually, it's our anniversary today."

"Whose?"

Kosuzu's cheeks flushed pink. "Mine and Akyuu's."

"Really?" Komachi couldn't help but chuckle. "That's a funny coincidence."

"What is?"

"Never mind." Komachi relaxed her stance. "Let's see if I can guess what happened. Since it was your anniversary, you decided to go out to celebrate."

"That's right."

"And you happened upon a new, strange teahouse."

"Exactly!" Kosuzu halted her eager nodding to blink. "How did you know?"

"Because it sounds like we're in the same figurative boat."

"Oh." Kosuzu smiled weakly. "I suppose that's better than a literal boat. Um, I mean..."

Komachi laughed. "That'll be another day." Before Kosuzu could become too unsettled, she nudged her head towards the road behind them. "Come on. Let's go find our dates."

---

"Here you go." Suika Ibuki slammed the teacup onto the table with enough force to make half the liquid within leap into the air. Miraculously, not only were both the table and cup undamaged, but the drink returned into the cup without so much as a single drop spilling. She winked. "I'd say it's on the house, but I'm guessing you'd take that for a bribe."

Eiki took the cup gingerly. Seeing its contents in the air had already made it obvious it was filled with anything but tea, but the scent confirmed it. "Is this sake?"

"Well, yeah."

"The sign outside said you're running a teahouse."

"Yeah, yeah. Is there a law saying you can't serve sake in a teahouse?"

Eiki had to concede the point. "Not in Gensokyo, no."

"See? Try it. It's good." Suika turned towards Akyuu. "Care for a refill?"

As Akyuu murmured a demurral, Eiki took a sip from her drink. It was indeed rather good, but that was beside the real matter at hand. She looked up. "Suika—"

Suika had already left the table. Eiki watched her stalk around the tent, grinning as she went, gathering empty cups and refilling others with seemingly no input from the patrons.

"So where was I?" She returned and cheerfully pulled out the remaining seat for herself. If she was discomfited by any lingering memories of the less than auspicious circumstances during which she had last encountered Eiki, she showed no signs of it, instead beaming with the brightness shared by the very innocent and inveterate liars. "A story of some kind?"

"You were about to explain why we can't leave."

"Yeah, that's right. So this teahouse is just a bit of fun. I'll get going as soon as Reimu finds out I've set up shop this close to the village." Suika grinned. "Actually, I think I'll wait for her to show up. It's more fun that way."

Akyuu offered her a polite smile. Eiki pushed her cup aside. "And then you hired Mike?"

"That's right." Suika took Eiki's cup and downed it in a single long swig before continuing. "Of course, I don't really need her to gather customers. I can use my foregathering ability to bring people over just fine. But it feels more like a proper teahouse with an employee, doesn't it?"

"A floor might have a similar effect," commented Akyuu dryly.

"Anyway, since Mike can only invite one person in at a time, I decided to gather people into the area so that even if only half of them got in we'd still have plenty of customers. It worked really well, too. Until people tried to leave. I tried making the people disperse once they got stuck, obviously, but for some reason it only worked on those who hadn't been invited in at all. I'm guessing our abilities got entangled in some mysterious way."

Eiki nodded. "I see."

"Anyway, you don't have to worry. Everyone gets to leave eventually. Even the person stuck for the longest managed to walk out after two hours."

Akyuu set her cup down. "At least one of us may not have to wait for that long." She raised her voice. "Mike?"

Mike, who was no longer paying attention to the moth and was instead swinging her leg back and forth, jerked her head upwards. "What's up, Sis?"

"Can you step out for a moment?"

"Sure." Mike dove out. "Now what?"

Akyuu stood up and nodded at Suika. "Thank you for your hospitality." She gestured at Eiki to join her at the tent's entrance and waited until they were both there before speaking again. "Mike, can you attempt to invite us outside?"

"Oh, I see." Eiki smiled as she grasped Akyuu's intent. "Even if the invitation can only work on one of us, it still means one of us will be free to go."

"I hope you're the one invited out." Akyuu's smile was thin but sincere. "Unnerving as it is being this close to multiple youkai, I have made my peace with waiting here. After all, by remaining in one place I have better odds of re-uniting with—"

"Akyuu!"

They turned to look outside. Kosuzu hovered right behind Mike, bopping her head around in an effort to see past her. Behind her, calm but still curious, stood Komachi. Upon noticing Eiki, she gave her a cheery little wave.

Akyuu's smile immediately warmed to the point where its brightness was a match to the lanterns. "Everything is fine, Kosuzu. It's only a small supernatural obstacle."

Kosuzu gave a distracted nod, then turned towards Mike, looking almost ready to put hands on the cat. "Please invite us in!"

Mike's eyes darted from Komachi and Kosuzu to Akyuu and Eiki and then back. She frowned. "Kay, how about we try somethin' like this?"

She positioned herself in the tent's entrance, one foot in, one foot out. Before anyone could do anything to stop her, she beckoned with both hands. "Welcome!"

The next thing Eiki knew, she had collided with something unyielding but relatively soft.

"Oof." Komachi staggered back, then reached out to steady Eiki. She grinned. "At this rate I'm going to be qualified to work as a roadblock."

Back on her feet, Eiki looked around. She was outside again, with Komachi's hands on her arms and the tent securely behind. "Who knows how far I would have walked if you hadn't stopped me. Thank you for catching me."

"Did you ever doubt I wouldn't?"

Eiki smiled back at her. "No. I didn't."

They looked back. Within the tent, Kosuzu was clinging to Akyuu's arm, speaking rapidly but too quietly for any discernible words to make it outside the tent. Mike was watching them from her perch, smiling with self-satisfaction.

"Well, that worked out great." Suika came to the entrance, beaming as though Mike's success was hers as well. "Must be fate." She winked. "And don't worry about paying. The drink was on the house after all."

Given that most of the drink remained in the house, Eiki found little cause to complain. "Thank you." She frowned. "Don't invite more people in until you have understood what causes this. Consider—"

"Yeah, sure." Suika made a sweeping wave. "Have a good night!"

She retreated back into the tent. Only Mike remained near the entrance, still pleased with herself.

"That didn't exactly work out, huh?" said Komachi, smiling all the while.

"Yes, I suppose it didn't." Eiki watched Akyuu and Kosuzu retake the table Akyuu had previously occupied, smiling at each other all as though they were the only two people in the world. "But it doesn't seem to have done any harm, either. Should we consider the grilled lamprey stand?"

"Funny. I was just thinking I was in the mood for some fried fish." Komachi let go to adjust her scythe, which had nearly fallen from her shoulder in the collision, then held out her hand. "How about we go see what else fate has in store for us tonight?"

And so they did, continuing down the road together, filled with newfound appreciation for the beauty of spring nights.

[ktheist]

the ways to call you mine

[7:22]

the man that your father decided to bring home is of an unknown origin. or so he claims. based on his attire when he first stepped into your house, you know he’s at least a noble. though there’s no insignia engraved in on his collar or back, the way taehyung carries himself shows years of refine etiquette and manner.

“then, i’ll be off,” your father sets the teacup on its saucer, breaking your fixed stare on the man across from you and turn to the elder man with a smile sweeter than honey.

“have a good day, papa!” the arm you use to wave at the man shoots down as soon as the carriage is out of sight. and the smile you wear is contorted into a sneer.

clicking your tongue, you shoot a glare at the unwelcomed guest next to you. sure, he may have the perfect shade of tan, matched with unruly hair that easily allows him to hide his expressions with just a tilt of his head downwards. but those eyes - they remind you so much of yourself.

they’re induced with warmth and gentleness in front of your father, but as soon as the man is out of sight, that glare of his rivals your own.

“just wait till i find out which house you belong to and what secrets you hold to trick my poor old merchant father into taking you in.”

the corner of taehyung’s lips lift into an unpleasant scoff as he swats your finger away, “i’d like to see you try, peaches.”

did you say his superficiality rivaled yours? you take that back. even you aren’t as evil as the devil incarnate.

and he dares to call you by the nickname your father and late mother gives you. to insult your late mother’s memory so - he’s the opposite of what he displays himself to be in front of your father and the townspeople. 

because you’re from a rising merchant faction, you don’t have maids or butlers. so it’s only just the two of you at home and unfortunately so, allows you to bear witness to this man’s true, wicked nature.

“nobles are the same everywhere,” you huff, swiping the creme colored hat hanging off the hatstand and pulling it over your head, “they’re self-centered, arrogant and lack respect for others.”

he stands with his back on you and the handle of an axe clasped underneath his arm as he puts on the gloves before getting to chopping the woods at the back. when you’re only met with silence instead of one of his witless retorts, you trudge out with a, “don’t forget to lock the front door!”

x

your days are spent at the orphanage and helping out the old lady by the forest with her garden. though you want to quickly find out what taehyung’s hiding, you haven’t the slightest clue of who and where to look for.

“thinking about that young man again?” esmeralda’s fading green eyes captures yours. she always seems like the secrets of the world hover over her like dark clouds.

the glass ball sitting prettily on the table in front of her is filled with clouds today. when she uses it, the clouds disappear and are replaced by a blur of images that you can’t make out.

“it’s because your magic hasn’t awakened yet, young one,” she once told you when she saw your knitted eyes as you peered at the ever changing images trapped inside the ball.

“come here,” the woman gestures, her wrinkled hands sometimes appear taut and stretched over her bones like that of a young woman but most times, she appears the way you see her now - graying hair, smile lines and fading emerald eyes.

one of these days, you fear you’d walk into an empty forest and the ground where the house is built, filled with blades of grass.

a clueless smile makes its way to your lips as you place a hand on the one she has extended midair.

“i cannot give the answers you seek.” she smooths out your palm, eyes trained on the lines that slants across it, “only you can find them.”

“hm?” you cock your head to the side at the sudden images that appear within the ball after esmeralda guides your hand over it.

at first, it’s a blur of colors from black to brown to something lighter until you can finally make out the man sitting on a throne, his ice cold gaze sending chills down your spine.

“taehyung...” the name comes out as a soft whisper. as though you’re afraid that the image of the man would hear and see you through the glass.

but the images is disappears into the usual clouds as soon as the knock on the door reverberates across the room.

“why don’t you see who’s at the door, child?” she requests. understandably, her bones aren’t as strong and her feet doesn’t carry her as fast as whoever knocking on the door desires.

to your surprise, a familiar figure cringes at the sight of you. but you don’t have the time to let annoyance take over you like it usually does, “taehyung? why are you here?”

only women and male descendants of the royal family can see this house.

“what do you mean why i’m here? it’s almost sunset and you’re still not back yet. your father’s worried you might’ve gotten eaten by-” he grumbles before something past your shoulders catches his eyes.

“is that...”

as soon as he tries to take a step forward, you softly press your hand on his chest, stepping out and closing the door behind you.

“let’s go, it’s almost dark and your noble brain didn’t even think of bringing a lantern.” you point out, neck craning to hold his gaze but the insult is enough to pull his brows together in annoyance.

“if it weren’t for me, you would’ve had to walk back on your own - in. the. dark.” he emphasizes the last part, eyes burning holes inside your head as you blatantly ignore him.

“hey,” he says, clearly ticked off, “are you listening?”

that’s when you stop in your trek and he must notice the change of atmosphere when he falls quiet from next to you.

“taehyung,” you meet his startled gaze, “you’re the missing crown prince, aren’t you?”

those round eyes sharpen into the all-too-familiar glare, “i’m not. and you don’t have any proof.” the latter statement feels forced. as if added as an afterthought.

“so it’s true.” you surmise, clicking your tongue. “i was willing to put up with you even if you’re a noble - but you’re the crown prince... do you know your order to burn anyone suspected of magical use, caused my mother’s death?”

judging from how his eyes soften, he doesn’t seem to know.

“leave our home,” you twirl on your heels, continuing your path back to the estate, “you have no business leeching off a family whose mother and wife you killed.”

when morning comes, the seat across from you is empty and deserted. your father thought taehyung might have overslept and you promise to check up on him after he leaves for work.

but you already know he left in the dead of the night. you saw his lean built step  out of the gates but he stopped and looked straight at your window where you’d been standing. as if he knew.

the expression he made was indecipherable but you know the weight of knowledge when you see it. there was something he knew but couldn’t tell you.

the days go on like they would as if the guest bedroom had never been occupied since last year. as if the chopped firewood are miraculously stacked next to the fireplace. as if he never existed.

then, your father proposes moving to the capital because he wants to open a stationary shop for the children and teachers. there are more hard times than good ones. you see your father breakdown on his own in his office every night after three months and with little customers coming in. that’s when you met jimin - the wizard that taught you that a little incantation to draw attention to the store, can’t hurt.

“if the things you sell are as good as you claim them to be-”

“-they are!” 

“-then there’s no reason for the customers who got drawn in by magic, not to buy it with their own free will once they see the items themselves.”

ever since then, the business have been doing good and you’ve been attending classes to control your magic - in courtesy of jimin who then left to wander the world. it doesn’t occur to you that you’re not the only one lurking around alleyways and ducking into shadows, on your way to a destination - where your magic classes are held.

“what do we have here?” a burly man steps out of a shadow and blocks your path. “where are you heading to little lady? don’t you know there are wolves that come out to play at night?”

you know your demand for him to leave you alone will fall on deaf ears but you still try. when he advances and even grasps your left hand to tug you into a smaller alley, you’ve no choice but to flick your wand and let the purple light of your magic knock the man unconscious.

what you don’t expect is for a witness to be standing six feet away from where you just mutter an, “why can’t men mind their own business?”

you’re about to whip out your wand again - a memory erasure spell should suffice - when the figure steps into the light and you find yourself staring at a familiar deep brown eyes. they’re still as sharp as the last time you saw them but there’s something different about how he takes the bottom of his lip between his teeth. as if he wants to say something but can’t.

“so you’re learning magic.” he asserts, not ask.

still, you refute, “i’m not.” but you can’t accuse him of having no evidence like he did to you. back in that forest. back when you last talked to him.

“i’m sorry,” the shadow next to you stops and you’re forced to whirl around to face the man whose head is lowered by invisible weight, “th-the emperor was attacked by a wizard - i never thought my careless declaration to capture the wizard would be twisted until innocent people would be dragged out of their homes and burned at the stakes for being suspected of magic use.”

“i forgive you,” you say simply, and he must have been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he nods right away, muttering, “that’s right, you shouldn’t for-”

those eyes that always directed you with hostility are staring at you with wide eyes. perhaps he’s not a devil incarnate after all.

perhaps, he’s just human.

“i understand how you feel,” casting your gaze over your shadows, you recall the times when something like just now happened. it wasn’t the first and it won’t be the last.

“i thought, why can’t men just disappear? the world would be so much better without them.” but you think of your father and taehyung and the townspeople’s husbands who sent you two away with teary eyed and promises to help in case you ever need it. “but to pass on judgement to an entire race...” you shake your head, “...that’ll make me just like them, if not worse.”

you talk about many other things. like how taehyung is supposed to succeed the throne but he couldn’t - not when his people are still suffering and the streets are unsafe for the women.

“i can’t completely eradicate the crimes,” his eyes are back to their sharp stare as he fixes his gaze on the pavement, elbows on each knee, “i don’t want to pass a law that can get twisted and cause innocent people to die either.”

you know he’s referring to the bill that was hurriedly pushed after the failed assassination of the emperor. 

“i never knew you had these thoughts,” you let out a wry sigh, “you always acted like you didn’t want to involve yourself with anything in case it becomes a big unnecessary mess.”

“your mother’s life and the rest of the people that were burned at the stakes weren’t ‘unnecessary mess’.” the voice that always retorted your every sentence now speaks like a responsible and rational man.

“even if she was a witch?” you don’t know how you could smile but you do and it genuinely reflects the weightlessness that fills your chest.

he has no response to that.

“i think it’s because i get to speak to you one more time - i got the closure that i never knew i needed,” your shadow stands up with you, its hands stretched over its head from having sit on the bench for too long.

“i hope you can find it in you to forgive yourself too, taehyung,” you intend to part without leaving any traces behind. of course, he’s the crown prince and he can find out where you live with a flick of his fingers but from the way his head is almost rolling off the ground - your mother would writhe in her grave if she knew her daughter grew up to be the kind of person that would leave a person to their demons and not even try to help.

so you leave him with an incantation. wherever he is, if he so wishes it, he’ll be able to find his way to the shop.

after months pass without a sign of him, you’re almost familiar with the idea that that night was truly your last goodbye. until one fine day, you’re arguing with the kids who demand why you can’t sell two pencils for the price of one but can sell three for the prince of two and a half.

“you little brats...” your facial muscles ache with every passing second you force the smile to stay.

the bell over the door chimes in notice of a new customer. you’re almost glad that you can finally shoo these kids away.

“welcome!”

until you notice the stern gaze that locks with yours and then travels to the little rascals that goes up just above your waist. almost as though they’ve seen a ghost, they hurriedly bid you farewell and march out of the shop.

he comes to stand in front of you. this time, the gold and crimson crest of the royal family is etched on the chest of his jacket.

“peaches, did the kids leave?” your father steps out of the office only to stop dead in his trek, blink once and then another time before a smile breaks across his face, “your highness, welcome back.”

the shock of your father knowing exactly what taehyung’s identity barely wears off before you’re hit with the fresh smell of your favorite cookies being served.

he doesn’t even let you have more than two and he’s serving a whole plate to this freeloader-turned-prince!

“it’s been awhile hasn’t it, your highness? how have you been?” the man hasn’t stopped smiling since - it’s even more irritating that you can see his aura change from teal to pink.

“wait a minute,” you finally say, an accusatory glare fixed on both of them, “i think i deserve an explanation!”

“oh,” your father lowers his head to the younger man sitting across from you, “apologies, your highness. ___’s usually a cheerful and outgoing person, you must know,” he chuckles, “you’ve lived with us for over a year. the shock must have not worn off yet.”

“don’t worry, sir,” taehyung shoots him a composed smile while glancing your way, bringing the tea you brewed to his mouth, murmuring, “i know exactly how ___ is,” before sipping the drink.

it’s a threat. he’s blackmailing you about telling your father of your night classes. you almost rip the hair out of his head in your fury but you make sure to put on your sweetest smile for your father after that.

“i’ll be dropping by some time,” he murmurs under his breath when you escort him out of the shop.

“yeah, well, make sure to buy something next time.” is all you say.

x

he drops by every week for a whole year. either it’s for a cup of tea, to help your dad with arranging the stationary according to their uses or just to wait for you until the shop closes so you could take a walk around town. nobody recognizes him as the crown prince thanks to your distortion magic.

there hasn’t been a spot where you haven’t visited in the city. and there hasn’t been a spell taehyung hasn’t seen you do.

“you’re going to class every night and waking up at the crack of dawn to run the shop, aren’t you tired?” the knit of his brows tells you he-

“oh, what’s this? are you worried about me?” you don’t bother hiding the snicker that sends your shoulder line jolting.

“whatever,” with that, he shoots to a side glance and throws his gaze to somewhere ahead, “if you get sick, don’t come calling me for help.”

it’s a moment later that you give a proper answer, “i got a late start because mother subdued my magic when she found out the humans are coming for us so i want to learn as many spells as i can quickly and beat jimin - you know that wizard that i told you about that helped us gain attention?”

you’re not sure if taehyung is still in that dark alley with a cloak over his head, hiding in the shadow.

but as you trace the gentle curve of his nose, to his stunning jawline and the shoulders that stand straight as he walks next to you, you think, perhaps, he’s found that closure too.

“what?” his eyebrows knit together as he stares back at you.

“hm,” the corners of your lips tuck upwards, “i don’t like you but my mother would have showered you with all the cara and affection in the world since she knows i’m the one who keeps picking fights, probably.”

instead of questioning your sanity, he comes to a sudden halt. eyes boring into you like a hurt puppy, “d-do you think so?”

“silly,” the laughter that trickles from your lips is one of the many you’ve shared with him and your father back in the shop’s lounge room, “i know so.”

taehyung falls to a squat in the middle of the street - if it weren’t for the sun setting and people retreating into their homes, he would have been cursed out for blocking the way.

“hey, even if you’re tired, you should at least say so we could find a bench to sit at or something.” you’re about to tap his shoulder when his hand wraps around your wrist.

he cranes his neck to meet your eyes. the naturally sharp gaze appears softer in the yellow-brown rays.

“i thought meeting you every week and making sure you’re fine was the least i could do for your late mother,” carefully, he begins to entangle your fingers together, “but i can’t - i- i love you.”

[imacrowcawcaw]

A Lover With A Red Hot Thong -- Duzzy -- Ch. 1

Author (as known on various sites): luluthechoosingcrow - AO3, theladylovingcrow - Wattpad and Deviantart, lady lover - Rockfic, @insannywestan - Sanny shipping blog, @gretavanfleetconfessions

Fandom: Guns n Roses

Pairings: Duff McKagan/Izzy Stradlin (Duzzy)

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, like extreme fluff, attempted humor, airports, Duff has anxiety, Izzy is really good at comforting him, cuddling, sharing a bed, romance, dates, friends to lovers, adorable giggly boys, kissing

Summary: Duff dressed like a stripper from Arkansas that had discovered the Sex Pistols last week, drank more vodka in a month than most people did in a year, baked amazing blackberry streudals, sang Prince in the shower, and made out with his friends when he was lonely. Izzy was pretty sure that he was in love with him. Something certainly comes out of it when they end up spending a rather romantic week (totally not a honeymoon) in New Orleans because somebody (the very Duff of his longings) always loses their passport.

Taglist: @brianmaysclog @love-n-my-heart-4-n-army-apart @1800endmeplease @tymeconsuming @satans-helper @ageofkiszka @karrotkate @therealswanqueen @mountainofthesunn @onlyan-angel @lantern-inthenight @love-philautia @ubernoxa @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies (reminder that I just remade my taglist and organized it as best as I could, but if you either don’t want to be tagged in something (like GNR) or want to be added, just let me know!)

Author's Notes (aka disclaimers): 

1 - Don't own the people or places 

2 - It's a combination of real and made up (to my knowledge) places for this story. Don't use this as a fucking tour guide, I've never been to New Orleans and I don't have memories of anywhere east of Lake Tahoe

3 - The timeline of this is also completely made up. I like to bend reality to my will because I am a lazy writer

4 - I tried my hand at writing a character with anxiety. I'm trying my best with the info online and my own experiences, but please let me know if something is wildly inaccurate and detracts from the story 

5 - I mean no disrespect to the band. I try my best to be a humorous writer, and I think that I have a pretty healthy view of them, seeing both the good and poking fun at the bad. Some of this might come off as mean, but I’m not really trying to be. I just want people to laugh

6 - Trying that thing where I port my WIPs to get motivated. We’ll see if this works!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Monday, September 15, 6:46 AM, New Orleans Louis Armstrong National Airport 

"Duff, what exactly do you mean you don't have your passport?" Axl spit, breathing hard in an effort to diffuse combustion. He was not exactly the happiest camper this early in the morning, especially when some people's forgetfulness interrupted the sleep he had planned on getting as soon as they boarded the plane.

The man being questioned gazed at Axl nervously through wide, panicked eyes. 

"I don't know, man! Er- I mean, yeah I don't have it... I'm pretty sure the last time I saw it was at the hotel when we checked in. I'm sorry! We just got up so early and it was still dark and I kind of have a hangover from last night so I just shoved my stuff in my bag and went downstairs so we wouldn't be late, but now we're going to be late shit I'm sorry I don't-" 

"Hey, hey. Duff, it's okay, just breathe," Izzy soothed, speaking his first words of the day besides a 'fuck off' to Steven, who'd been tasked with waking him up. He settled a coffee-cup-warm, pale hand on Duff's shoulder and turned to speak to Axl.

"It's fine, Bill, we'll figure it out. None of us function well in the morning, do you have your snakeskin belt, hmm?" He asked, knowing that the beloved item was still hanging from a lamp in the hotel room they had checked out of at 4 AM.

Axl's mouth shut with a clack as he glared at Izzy and his damned know it all face. He huffed out a breath and made a big show of rolling his eyes and changing his expression to one of fond exasperation.

"Fine, then, you can figure it out. Don't expect any help from us, though!" 

Izzy snorted at his friend's drama and his statement; Steven was currently trying to convince an off duty captain to let him fly his plane, Axl was Axl, and Slash was still dead to the world behind his hair -- very helpful.

"Okay, well, we'll meet you there as soon as we can. Enjoy your flight, don't become members of the mile high club without us," Izzy replied, pulling Duff up and swinging his backpack over his shoulder.

They walked away, arms brushing with every step, to the sound of Axl screaming at them to bring back his belt, and the disgruntled looks of other early morning airport commuters whom they ignored. Izzy followed the overhead signs back to a check in desk with Duff in tow, hoping that everything would work out and that they could be in Amsterdam with the rest of the guys by nightfall.

No such luck, of course.

"I'm sorry," the lady said with a completely uncaring smile, "but the next flight to Amsterdam, commercial or private, isn't until next tuesday. I can book two tickets for you, Mr. Stradlin, but there's nothing more I can do." 

Izzy sighed, but nodded. He sorted through bills in his wallet, mocking the lady in his head all the while. 'I'm sorry, but your daughter is going to die from a wrench to the eye socket. I can give you a bandaid, but there's nothing more I can do.'

Duff, though, having woken up on the walk over, was looking closer to an anxiety attack than the mild annoyance Izzy was feeling. 

He quickly excused them and grabbed Duff's wrist, pulling him a few feet away for the false illusion of privacy to calm him down.

"Shh, shh, take a deep breath," Izzy whispered, hands gripping Duff's shoulders to force them to look straight in each other's eyes. "Everything will be alright. We'll find your passport, hang out in the city for a while, then go meet up with the guys. Easy, no problems. Relax babe, just try to relax and breathe."

Duff tried to steady his breathing as he clung to Izzy, pulling the man into a hug. He wasn't sure what he would do if Iz wasn't here -- his friend was usually the only one who could stop his incoming anxiety like that.

They stood there for several minutes; Duff regaining a normal breathing pattern, and Izzy slowly rubbing his back. As they pulled away from each other, Duff spotted a hippo in Mardi Gras attire glaring at them in disgust. He smirked rather weakly, still a bit shaken and queasy from his panic but back on the track to his usual self.

"Hey, Iz, it looks like we have an audience, and he's not very pleased."

Izzy grinned back at him, relieved that the Duff he knew was still kicking. Besides, this was their favorite game. 

Every once in a while, the boys were subjected to odd stares and the occasional slur. Usually, it was just for dressing like Dolly Parton while shoplifting, but occasionally, it was because they got pretty close. Sometimes they were drunk, sometimes they were just talking to each other or hugging, sometimes because they were blatantly trying to piss off as many people as possible (sometimes the "people" included Axl).

Izzy moved his hands from Duff's shoulder blades, one wrapping tight around his waist and the other getting a firm grip on his delectable ass. 

Duff snorted and cupped Izzy's face in his large hands, angling him upwards slightly so that they could lean their foreheads together. He bit his lip to stop from giggling, and Izzy brushed his own mouth against him for a split second, getting a quick hint of teeth and coffee-breathe.

Out of the corner of his eye, Izzy saw the man visibly shudder, his beady eyes grimacing. 

A fake blond, middle aged woman Izzy assumed was his wife laid one hand on his polo shirt, as if in an effort to calm him down. It had the opposite effect. The man grunted and skewered his mouth to the side, squinting even more as if a giant rainbow spotlight was being blasted into his eyes.

Izzy smirked, though it was barely noticeable against Duff's mouth. 

Duff murmured something about 'making a scene', but Izzy knew he was referring to their audience and not themselves. Neither of them cared who saw this, though if it was printed in any magazines Axl might try to suplex them out of a window. "Try" being the key word -- the little red terror was too chicken to actually try that with Izzy, and too short to get enough leverage on Duff. 

Somewhere behind him, Izzy heard the woman whine, "Oh, Charles!" like she was getting the worst rimjob of her life. 

"It's disgusting, Carol! I won't stand for it!" 

"Time to get going?" Duff whispered, pulling back an inch.

Izzy gave him one last searing kiss and an extra probing squeeze to the ass then nodded, breaking away. They quickly picked up their suitcases and high tailed it out of the building, leaving dust, stares, and a purple and green, mouth breathing, homophobic fatman in their wake. 

Duff laughed as they came to a stop in the middle of a group of Japanese tourists. They all turned to look at him as he barked, panted, barked, and then wheezed with his hands on his knees.

Izzy was looking at Duff too, a rare - though not as much as some people would think - smile on his lips. He patted his friend on the back and pulled out a cigarette, then offered one to Duff. It would make the wheezing worse, but a smoker cares none about that. 

They lit up from Izzy's lighter as the tour grouped streamed past them, completely nonplussed at the disgruntled - or awed, recognizing - stares they received. Once they had the stretch of sidewalk to themselves, Duff stacked their suitcases one atop the other and sat down while Izzy hailed a cab. His long arms soon garnered them a ride and they hopped into the sedan after tossing their bags into the trunk. 

It was blue, with a peeling leather interior and a hand stenciled logo on either window; the usual black and white checkers ran a wobbly circle around the outside of the car. The driver glared at them from underneath bushy brows as they smoked their cigarettes, and Izzy smiled at him politely, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror, until he finished and put out his cig on the door's plastic. 

Duff's mind was in some far off place and he didn't notice any interactions taking place. Izzy wondered if he was thinking about how to find his passport, or what to do in the city, or about girls -- or, the bleach blonde head rolling onto his shoulder could have been asleep. The snores more or less confirmed it. 

"Where to?" The driver asked after a minute. 

“Marriott on Jackson,” Izzy answered, turning his torso minutely to get more comfortable.

Etta James’ smoky vocals floated out of the speakers, half of the tone quality getting lost in the maze of beads hanging down from the cab ceiling in a curtain between driver and passengers. Izzy sighed and shifted; the leather creaked; Duff snorted and drool ran down his arm. He smiled down at the man asleep on him and brushed some hair back from his sticky mouth, fingers slowly tracing Duff’s jawline. 

Michael Andrew Mckagan was a unique specimen, that was for sure. He was laid back and welcoming, yet had enough energy to rival Popcorn, at times. He was loving and affectionate to his friends, and scathingly rude to those that hurt them. Duff dressed like a stripper from Arkansas that had discovered the Sex Pistols last week, drank more vodka in a month than most people did in a year, baked amazing blackberry streudals, sang Prince in the shower, and made out with his friends when he was lonely. Izzy was pretty sure that he was in love with him.

The engine of the cab coughed, and suddenly the vehicle was rolling to a stop outside the hotel they had left only an hour or so ago. Izzy gently shook Duff awake and went to pay the man while Duff got their bags back out of the trunk. 

“That will be forty dollars,” the man said, staring Izzy down from beneath his fuzzy caterpillar. Interestingly enough, that was the only facial hair he had; perhaps he’d shaved off his mustache and glued it, hair by hair, onto his brow bone. 

“Really? It was half that to get to the airport two hours ago. What’s your game, man? You think you can scam us?”

Izzy didn’t like being scammed. It was damn near impossible to get one up on him - let alone very rare someone even dared to try - so this guy was about to get it if he thought he could. 

“You ruined my interior. Smells like smoke. I need to clean it now. I know you have the money,” the man glared, narrowing his eyes. The caterpillar hunched down too, like it was trying to curl up on itself to avoid getting eaten by a hawk-nosed Stradlin. 

“Is that so?” Izzy snorted, fishing out another cigarette just for the hell of watching the man get angrier. 

“Here, forty dollars. C’mon Iz, let’s go.”

Duff handed the man a fold of two twenties with a sigh, his other hand subtly resting on Izzy’s lower back for a moment before removing itself again. He wanted to fight it - there was no way that guy should be getting away with charging them double price, fuck that! - but Duff was tired and the money was already handed over. Izzy knew that physical signal from Dff, too, the hand on the back: it meant “leave it”. 

With a final huff and a not so subtle bird, Izzy grabbed his carpet bag from where Duff had lain it on the asphalt and followed his tall friend through the hotel’s front entrance, cigarette dangling from his mouth all the while. 

They made their way over to the front desk, explained the situation, and then they were back inside the mirrored elevator armed with the suite’s key card, going up like they had never left in the first place. 

“Hmm, wonder what it would be like to make love in this elevator?” Duff mused, staring upwards at his reflection in the ceiling. 

Issy followed the bold line of his profile, from Adam's apple to nose to messy hair, before he finally glanced at the ceiling, too. 

“Interesting, certainly. I’ve done it in front of a mirror, but not in a whole box of them.”

“Yeah. Hey, we should come back here and incorporate this into our next video!” Duff exclaimed, grinning at him. 

“Izzy snorted. “What, you wanna come back here a third time? This place got like a magical draw or some shit?”

They both cracked up.

[wuxian-vs-wangji]

TGCF Character List (Spoiler Edition)

Decided to re-organize my character list like my non-spoiler one :)

The Mains 

Xie Lian:: Crown Prince of Xian Le, thrice ascended god, also nicknamed the god of misfortune or the god of fucking up. Has a snake bandage (Ruoye), neat-o sword (Fang Xin) and a collar/ankle shackle like a kinky motherfucker (punishment from his 2 banishments from the heavens). If you have a beef with Xie Lian, Hua Cheng will turn you puddle-shaped.

Ruoye:: Xie Lian’s spiritual tool. A bit fussy and literal with him. Likes Hua Cheng.

Hua Cheng // San Lang // Four Great Calamities:: An 800 year old demonic Ghost King also known as the Crimson Rain-Sought Flower, Scourge of Heaven, or Xie Lian’s sugar daddy. Devastation-Level spirit (currently the most powerful). Human!Xie Lian saved Hua Cheng’s life when he was a small child and Hua Cheng decided to dedicate his life to the Crown Prince. Now that they’re both 800+ years old he wants to bone him.

E-Ming:: Hua Cheng’s blade. A long, curved silver scimitar with a decorative pommel that appears to contain either an eye or a jeweled eye (not too clear on that part). 

The Heavenly Host 

Fu Yao:: Mu Qing’s disguised form so he can help Xie Lian without Xie Lian knowing it’s him. Formerly a servant of Xie Lian’s. Too pretty for your bullshit.

Mu Qing // Xuan Zhen:: The Southwest Martial God. A former servant of Xie Lian’s who was brought by Xie Lian to the heavens before Xie Lian was unceremoniously kicked out the first time. Because of his former life as a servant, it is considered a high insult to hand him or one of his disciples a broom. 

Nan Feng:: Nan Yang’s disguised form so that he can help Xie Lian without Xie Lian’s knowing it’s him. Terrified of women (but obviously thought Xie Lian was hot in that wedding dress).

Feng Xin // Nan Yang:: The Southeast Martial God. A former General under Xie Lian, also brought by Xie Lian to the heavens before Xie Lian’s first downfall. Due to an error by an ancient emperor, he is worshiped in some areas as the God of Big Dick (”Tremendous Masculinity”).

Feng Shen:: Feng Xin // Nan Yang // Nan Feng’s bow, a gift from the Heavenly Emperor. Bow’s name means ‘God of Wind’, no word yet on how the Wind Master feels about this.

Ling Wen // Three Tumors:: A literary goddess and friend of Xie Lian. Only Ling Wen greets Xie Lian upon his third ascension and she often helps him research things. 

Jun Wu:: The Heavenly Emperor. Has a certain fondness for Xie Lian, and gives him more chances than he might others. 

 General Pei Lang // Pei Ming // Ming Guang // Three Tumors:: Northern Martial God. Pei Lang was a legendary womanizer as a mortal and is even worse as a divine. Slutty af, can’t be bothered to deal with anyone’s shit.

“Little” General Pei Su:: A descendant of the above god who ascended to a lower godhood rank. Acts as an underling and errand boy of General Pei Lang. Name indicates small dick.  

Wind Master Shi Qing Xuan:: One of the Five Elemental Lords, carries a fan and stirs up violent storms often. Known for their stunning looks and a personality that makes them fast friends in the Heavenly Realm. Sometimes likes to go around as a lady (and convince others to cross-dress with them)

Water Master Shi Wu Xu // Three Tumors:: Dubbed “Tyrannical Waters” by San Lang due to the practice of demanding tribute from those who sail upon the seas and oceans. One of the Five Elemental Lords. Wind Master’s elder brother who ascended first by a couple years.

Earth Master Ming Yi:: A companion of Wind Master Shi Qing Xuan and one of the Five Elemental Lords. Not much is known about the Earth Master because they like to keep a low profile. Acted as a spy in Hua Cheng’s camp for 10 years. Hua Cheng recognized him in female form when he was going around Banyue Pass with Wind Master.

Tai Hua// Lang Qian Qiu:: The Eastern Martial God, born the Crown Prince of Yong An- the kingdom that grew on the ashes of Xie Lian’s own kingdom. He is vaguely narcoleptic, dumb as a rock, and enjoys flinging himself headfirst into any situation if he thinks it’ll make him look heroic. Was trained in fighting by Xie Lian himself.

Ghosts and Demons 

Black Water Demon King Xuan // Four Great Calamities:: He keeps to himself often. He and Hua Cheng are the only two who hold the rank of Demon King, and one of only three demons to reach “Devastation” rank, though he is considered slightly lower than Hua Cheng. 

White No-Face Bai Wu Xiang // Four Great Calamities:: The eldest of the Four Great Calamities and first to achieve Devastation-Rank. He is the one who destroys Xie Lian’s kingdom before vanishing himself. 

Night-Touring Green Lantern Qi Rong // Xiao Jing:: Though only a “Wraith” class demon (lower than a Devastation), he is the weakest and youngest of the Four Great Calamities. Gods look down on him with disgust rather than fear, as he is known for impaling people upside down, creating a bloody rain. Xie Lian’s insane younger cousin.

The Humans and Miscellaneous 

Little Ying (Yu Jun Arc):: A girl in the village around Mount Yu Jun. She cares for Lang Ying and dies protecting Xie Lian (who was in no need of protecting but appreciated the gesture).

Lang Ying (Yu Jun Arc+):: A boy inflicted with the same Face Plague that destroyed Xie Lian’s kingdom, though the plague was thought eradicated long ago. It’s resurgence could mean Bai Wu Xiang has reappeared. He is a somewhat disciple of Xie Lian’s, having survived terrible hardships and trauma.

Xuan Ji (Yu Jun Arc):: A female general who stood on the opposite side of a battle as Ming Guang // Pei Senior. She went insane in her love of him and broke both of her legs to force him to notice her. When he still didn’t pay any mind, she went insane and was responsible for the Ghost Brides of Mount Yu Jun.

Tian Sheng (Banyue Pass Arc):: A bit of a mouthy one, but respects elders. Swears he will build Xie Lian a temple (which will probably end up just being a tree house).

Ke Mo (Banyue Pass Arc):: A general of the Ban Yue people. He refused to die, choosing instead to continuously trap people General Pei Junior brings to the edge of the Banyue lands to feed to his starving brothers trapped in the Sinner’s Pit. He executes Ban Yue over and over again for her part in destroying Banyue.

Ban Yue (Banyue Pass Arc):: A tiny demon in a cup. Ban Yue was one of Xie Lian’s orphans he used to collect and protect. She found out her people- who she wasn’t on good terms with anyways- were planning on committing a series of suicide bombings that would kill thousands of Midlanders, so she helped slaughter her own people to minimize casualties. Xie Lian keeps her in a jar, but is kind to her.

Xia Xian Yue Officer // Quan Yi Zhen (Ghost Market Arc):: Hua Cheng’s assistant(?). May be the former Martial God of the West.

Prince An Le (Qi Rong Arc):: Another distant relative of Xie Lian’s. Prince An Le befriended Tai Hua/ Lang Qian Qiu for the purpose of carrying out the slaughter of the Yong An royal family along with Qi Rong. Was murdered by Xie Lian to stop a war from brewing.

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 13: From the Sea

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

Eremita, the island the hermits call home, has always been their safe haven. No one dares to enter the Ashioll sea. They are safe on Eremita.

Until now. 

_________________________________________________

Etho hates night. Funny, for a shadow ninja mage. Except that the night has no shadows, unless the moon is bright. People always think that shadow means darkness, but Etho knows it’s the exact opposite. Shadows need light.

Either way, he hates the night. And walking back from Xisuma’s tower, he huddles close to the lantern he carries. At least the wind has died down from the storm, though the dirt paths that traverse from home to home are muddy and clinging to Etho’s shoes. Ugh, those are going to be a pain to clean, the fabric takes forever to dry. 

A rustling noise in the tall grass brings him out of his internal complaining, and Etho raises his lantern to see farther ahead. The grass at the edge of the beach shifts, a low groan escaping the darkness beyond. Etho groans. “Cleo, if this is another prank of yours, it’s not working. You can’t prank me.” 

No answer. Etho steps closer. “Or maybe it’s Grian. May I remind you that time I let you sleep in when you were supposed to be training? I’m cashing in that good favor.” Still nothing. “Grian?” 

A fireball erupts from the grass, sending Etho diving into the dirt to avoid his hair being set on fire. The projectile crashes into the stone roof of TFC’s cave, embers falling off and onto the grass below, where it fizzles away on the wet ground. For a second, Etho wonders if it’s Tango pulling the prank. He wouldn’t be surprised- the ZIT trio has had their hand in a number of pranks on the island. 

But the form that appears from the grass is none of Etho’s friends. The grey form saps all the warmth from Etho’s lantern, tattered remains of a robe falling apart as the husk wizard moves. Empty eyes of the soulless remains lay on the shadow wizard, and fire collects in the husk’s hand. Aiming for Etho. 

Just enough fire for a shadow to be cast. Seconds before he almost becomes roast ninja, he sinks into the shadow realm. Racing across the dimension, he finds the next closest shadow- False’s forge. “False! We’re under attack!” 

False snorts awake, bouncing her head off the stone oven behind her. At the single word ‘attack’, she’s on her feet. The blacksmith grabs the nearest weapon, a sakura yari, swinging the three pronged spear at the nearest threat. The tip of the blade was still burning red. “Where is it, who is it? Are they pirates, zombies? Zombie pirates?” 

“We already have one of those, and she’s on our side! There’s husks on the island.” False blinks away the sleep lingering in her eyes, tossing the half made spear in lieu for her claymore. 

“I’ll wake up Impulse and Tango, you go get the others awake.” False orders, and the only two awake hermits split apart again. 

Well, two of three. Of course, the local poet was awake, quill running across his non-magic journal. Writing poems and essays for no reason other than he likes to. Joe will admit it was his...guerrilla tactics of writing and the passive aggressive nature of his works that got him kicked out of his past three previous guilds. Lucky for him, the hermits thrive off his witty nature and smarmy quips, whether they be elegant or crass. He hardly looks up when he hears the sound of howling, teeth snapping. He leans back, looking at the ink on his journal in the dying candlelight. Once he feels satisfied with the way his words weave together in his poem, he sets it down. 

And notices the fight going on outside. His glasses jolt off his nose, the library shaking and shifting to the noise of an explosion. Joe sighs, seeing hellfire rips across the pathways, greenery, and gardens in the center of the hermit’s living quarters. Tango really can’t hold himself back, can he? 

Joe stands, shutting his book and placing it on the bed stand. He digs the feather to rest along his ear, pinning it in place with his glasses. He brushes the grumbs of his late-night snack off his pajama pants, and steps outside. 

“Hey Joe!” Zedaph calls, riding atop the back of a peryton. “How’s a little late night fighting for you?” 

Zedaph points forward, and his small army of local wildlife charges. Joe blinks the weariness from his eyes, and jumps into action. The husks appear from the darkness, flanking Impulse in the smoke his explosions have created. Well, it’s a good thing he has his quill. 

If there’s one thing Etho’s glad about, it’s Impulse and Tango’s bright magic. The fires of Tango’s hellbound magic, the bright blossoms of Impulse’s explosions, they cast bright shadows all across the island. One second Etho’s racing from False’s forge, the next he’s skidding out of the shadows in front of Wels’s cottage. He brushes his fingers against the wooden door, but senses no shadows beyond the walls. Dammit, he’s already asleep? Etho must’ve really given him a workout training together. 

“Wels!” Etho calls, clambering onto his roof. There’s a chimney, and the fire is out at the bottom. Etho shrugs, and jumps in. Etho presses his hands and feet against the cobbled material, slowing his fall into a silent roll. His shout was less silent. “Wels we’re under attack!” 

The paladin leaps from bed, brandishing a knife Etho didn’t realize he even had. Does...does Wels sleep with a knife under his pillow? He shakes his untamed hair from his eyes, locks free from their ponytail as sleep disappears from his. “Who’s attacking? Lemme at em.” 

“Husks, now come on man, we don’t have time to waste.” Etho helps Wels find the bare essentials of his armor, sifting through his friend's dark cottage till his fingers run against metal. What Etho wouldn’t give to light a candle, just to help. And more shadows to run through. Once Wels is ready to fight, the two bust down the door together.

Most of the other hermist are awake, battling across the island. Grian swoops low, weaving through ashen bodies and casting wind spells to send them knocked to the ground. From there, the other hermits are able to deal swift blows, whether with weapon or magic. Wels and Etho glance at each other. “Bet you I can down more enemies than you.” 

“You’re on, paladin.” Etho grins, pulling free his weapon. A deadly short sickle unfolds from the metal chains around it, twirling in the air behind Etho. He dashes into the middle of battle, unleashing his kusarigama upon an unfortunate wizard’s husk. Not like there was anything left- just the dying body. It wasn’t even a zombie- there was no life remaining. 

He whips the chain out, snapping the iron bell at the end against the husk’s arm. It breaks the spell being cast, turning the blighted body’s attention to Etho. But the ninja is gone, invisible in the dark night. Leaping from behind, the chain snatches it’s victim by the legs and pulls them out from under it. Etho rolls away pulling the husk with him. And digging the curved blade into his opponent. Ash breaks around him like shreds of paper, the husk gone. 

Iskall traps a small pack of colocolo, laughing as the demonic rats sink into his puddle of iskallium. Melting away to ash and green goop. He turns his gaze onto his next enemy, looking out across the roiling sea. The husks are attacking like an army, but what are they after? How did they even get here, know they were here? Stress zips by, skating along ice and freezing a line of monsters escaping the sea. Marching into land in a perfect line. Like they’re being commanded. 

His emerald eye glints, training on the darkened water before him. There’s something out there. No- someone. Iskall turns, searching for TFC in the crowd of fighting hermits. “Hey man, there’s someone out there!” 

TFC turns, hand reaching out with his hand behind him and casting a defensive spell. The attacking husk, the remains of an arcane guard falling back. TFC switches the bloodstone in his hand for Iolite. “Hey Impulse, give me a bit of light!” 

“You got it man!” Impulse calls, waving a series of bright explosions around TFC. Not only do the explosions keep husks from attacking the distracted guildmaster, but it blossoms enough illumination to see beyond the dark waves. What he sees just beyond the light doesn’t really help. He catches a glint of something shiny, but what he notices most is the form's reaction to the light. They step away, movement fluid and living. 

A commander, someone controlling the army. TFC growls, eyes narrowing. This must be the dark mage, the person causing all this. Someone has to grab them. “Stress!” 

The ice wizard skids to a stop, spikes of ice digging into husks in a concentric circle around her. TFC nods out to sea, where she follows the two boys’ gaze. It takes her a minute to fix her eyes on the darkness, but it’s easy to notice the shadow figure- they stand out against the ripples and waves of the ocean. And they definitely don’t look like they’re falling apart like a husk. “Alright, let’s see who’s causin’ my friends trouble ‘ere.” 

Stress sprints forward, thick snow boots pounding against burnt grass. Her eyes remain fixed on the person out at sea, standing on the water as if it were tile. The form doesn’t move, and for a second Stress swears she can see a glint of white teeth grinning back at her. They think she’s forgotten about the ocean, the waves crashing onto the shore. She jumps over the first rippling wave, crashing weakly against the shore behind her. 

And when her boots meet water, the sea beneath her freezes. The ice skims across the waves, traveling her with it like a sled across snow. She jumps over a wave, running over the water. Each place her feet touch water, ice freezes outward and supports her weight. The figure seems alarmed, struggling at Stress’s approach. She gets close enough to see a hand move. 

A massive rogue wave rises above Stress. Threatening to swallow her whole, the crest falling towards the ice mage like an avalanche. Stress raises her hands, magic swirling free as she attempts to protect herself. The wave crashes. 

From the shore, TFC watches. Xisuma and Iskall are holding back the husks, allowing the guildmaster to focus on his wizards. Do his job, both as a leader and a father figure. The wave crashes in on itself, revealing the sea behind it. He can’t see the figure. He can’t see Stress. Behind him, TFC hears the hermits calling out, the sound of the fight quieting. But he’s not focused on that. He’s worried about Stress. 

Oh, what he wouldn’t give for xB to be back. To have a kipling to dive into the water and search for Stress. But him and a few others were still gone, on a mission in east Lairyon. TFC frets, pacing back and forth. He knows Stress is strong- she’s the strongest hermit out there. She left her title as a duchess purely for the desire to pursue her magic, to be free and have fun. She can lift even the heaviest of weights, something that she loves to boast over after a few beers. Stress is strong, and tenacious. But he still worries, the same way he worries over every hermit. He’s their leader, and their his guildmembers. They’re his family- he’d be worried if any other one was out there.

 He’s going in. He steps a foot down onto the beach, but snaps his head up at the sound of water splashing. Stress is at the surface, sputtering but alive. Her heavy robe weighs her down, and she crawls herself onto a slab of ice, kicking her way to shore. 

Stress washes onto the sand, her lungs aching and fist clenched around something. The wave throttled her, forcing her deep into the water with no idea which way was up. She wasn’t the only one down there- the figure was also knocked over by her magic, thrown into the ocean. They disappeared, but not before Stress grabbed hold of something at their waist. Whatever she holds right now. 

“Did we win?” Stress questions, seeing her friends surrounding her. They’re bloody and bruised, ash and husk cinders smeared on their face. But she’s just glad to see them all. 

“As soon as you and that stranger went under, they retreated.” Iskall looks up, grimacing. “Sorry about your barn, Zedaph.” 

Zed shrugs. “It wasn’t your fault, I’m just glad my sheep and other critters are a-okay. Plus, now I can build an even better one!” 

“What’s in your hand, Stressy?” BDubs questions, pointing to her fist. Stress sits up, welcoming a blanket from Ren’s imagination magic and the warmth of Tango’s hellfire. 

Stress looks down, raising the material up. “Its ahhhh…” She peers closer, realizing what it is. She sobers up, her back straightening like she’s at a noble dinner. “It’s a Guild Council belt.” 

The gold tassel strings at the end of the rope sash is enough for them all to know. Only those seated on the Council are given such adornment, a symbol of their dedication and hard work to the kingdom. Iskall bites his lip, pieces falling in together. “I don’t think this was a random attack. Not like Danes or Gildara.” 

“There was actually someone ‘ere, orchestrating the whole thing.” Stress adds, nestling deep into the blanket. Gods, Ren knows how to imagine a soft, warm blanket. “Someone from the Council of Guilds. And someone who obviously don’t want us involved anymore.” 

“This is...a lot bigger than it first appeared to be.” Xisuma breathes, staring at the gold string, flickering in the light.

[hollywoodhangar]

5 things!

Tagged by: @silvcrreaper! thank you, dear! :’D this is a really cute meme! I’ll probably use it again in the future bc of that tbh. I’d like to do a lotta characters. Tagging: @mettatoniic / @corviudex, @wcrldlyadventures​, @tcthinecwnself, @scwewywcbbit, @wabbitseezun, @couragelinked​, @contractualsarcasm​, @heedingcalls, @bloominghands, @fairestfall, @blackstardiopside​ / @hellhogged​, & you!

doing this for red’s hardcore over-a-year fixation seriously this woman owns my ass at this point hhggh this thing got way too long!!

CLAUDIA P.

5 THINGS YOU’LL FIND ON HER PERSON.

Her mother's broken pearl necklace. It's very near and dear to her, she's held onto it like a security blanket as well as a trinket for luck & protection ever since Lord Phantomhive whisked her away to the estate. She keeps them safely tucked away in one of her hidden skirt pockets! Those of supernatural origin that are able to detect magical objects can sense there is a Divine blessing on it; it’ll never be lost to Claudia, and those who mean her ill-intent will have their hands burn when they grab at it - almost like they stuck their hand in flames. It’s a precious thing that Máire [ her mother ] has long since used in her prayers specifically to Brigid ever since she was twelve, so it’s instilled with her blessing! 

Her axe. Even when she’s retired, the Countess keeps her silver axe on her person just the same; tucked away in its renewed sheathe that’s hidden under a flap on the back of her dress [ fun headcanon: while undertaker takes his sotoba up from the top of his collar, she pulls her axe down from below ]. Divine magic also touches this weapon; a blessing from the Morrígan in which the blade is kept heinously sharp so long as she gets some sip her blood tribute, absorbing the splatter and gore through the axe’s silver surface and leaving it pristine. Should too long go by without it having a taste of blood it will begin to dull rapidly for the amount of years its gone untouched, but fortunately the Phantomhives never seem to run short of assassins, hitmen and abductors. Her Divine continues to be pleased.

An emerald poison ring. Silver, classy and adorned with the head of a wolf opening its maw to hold a shiny emerald. No one'd expect such a beautiful big gem hides such a heinous poison beneath! It looks pretty neat when she pops it open and the poison pours out of the wolf’s mouth.

[ Enchanted ] Skeleton key. A simple-looking golden key with hidden runes that activate when inserted into magical locks its made for, but it functions like a normal key as well. This key will open absolutely any door in the Phantomhive manor [ unless Sebastian’s room has the same thing going on! ] as well as the invisible locks she has guarding her forest altar. This is also the only thing that will open all doors leading into her bedroom [ the hallway and the balcony ] as those locks are spellbound to react to only the key itself. Vincent’s always tried to pick his way in but could never quite achieve it! I like to think he inherited his mother’s mischievously nosy curiosity. 

Her black choker with a deep green brooch embedded in its middle. It hides the scar paved along her throat from the attempted assassination. Don’t want anyone seeing that, especially not family. v_v

5 THINGS YOU’LL FIND IN HER ROOM.

Her bed, of course! Mahogany framed. It’s enormous, as to be expected for a Countess. It’s extremely soft, easy to sink into and piled with many lace-ended pillows. Heavy, wool-knitted beige blankets lay over the very top, plush to the touch and covering the white and green sheets beneath it. Deep green curtains with leaf embroidery are tied to the bed posts with dark brown rope, and close all around the bed when Claudia turns in for the night -- except for the curtains at the foot. Those stay partially open to absorb the heat from the fireplace. As for the back of the bed, she built it herself! It has an enormous, full-length mirror installed into its wooden frame and a long, smooth surface below for convenience. It has two lamps at both ends that are within reach. 

Lovely mannequins. Rested next to the balcony are two simple manniquens. One is the bearer of her Brigid cloak, the hood pulled up and draped over to obsfuscate the face. Its arms are stretched forwards, hands splayed up with the ceremonial cloth and ropes used for Claudia’s handfasting ceremony; the pearls that were wrapped around all that hanging from its neck. Opposite of that is the other manniquen. Covered with a deep, dark duster, a peasant blouse, tight black pants and thigh-high boots give off a familiar visage of the Countess during her Watchdog days. Around its waist hangs a very intricate rich brown leather belt with lots of slots in it, weaponized chatelaines and satchels with golden clasps - and a golden wolf head as the buckle in front center.

Secret compartments. Many secret locked compartments in the walls she installed herself [ ^ that can only be opened by aforementioned skeleton key, or a very determined and powerful supernatural force ], hidden behind landscape portraits and animal print wall tapestries. She keeps various things in them: Tonics & Poisons. These are very rare breeds of both, being highly efficient in what they’re made for specifically. There’s vials of strange-looking gnarled roots and various colored liquids stored in here as well, along with herbs (??) hanging from the top. Inheritance. The late Lord Phantomhive left Claudia a fortune, most of which she sent to charity, but kept her own sum for emergencies sake. But that is not all he left her; there’s a small pile of letters, some opened, some remaining closed with different seals. There’s also an envelope in here for Claudia specifically, opened and re-sealed. What’s inside is information concerning safe passage to a number of locations and a list of names. Near the very end, the Lord gave Claudia a way out if she ever felt the need to flee from the Phantomhive title; she’s the only blood left. He would not hold it against her to forfeit the Watchdog title, he’d be dead - he has no reason to care for anything at that point. It’s a very bittersweet gift Claudia’s gone back and forth more than once and plans to hand down to the Undertaker “if I go before he does”. She trusts him to hold onto it and give to any Phantomhive who starts feeling pushed to the brink. Altars. A small altar for each of her Goddesses exists in the walls, in twin compartments side-by-side, their doors marked with the carvings of an anvil and a raven. Brigid’s altar is warm, decorated with handmade trinkets and rolled up drawings. The Morrígan’s is dark, positively dark and dimly lit with this very small icy blue lantern that hangs from the top, and the rest of it is decorated with fans fastened from raven feathers and odd white-crimson candles -- that contain her own blood.  Memonto Mori. Death has been embraced around Claudia for so much of her life, so she’s dedicated her own reminder of that in a “.. yet I survived” way.  Mementos from the Famine in the form of mothbitten fabric from the nightgown she wore that entire time and a lock of hair that had fallen out, from the first attempt on her life by a kidnapper in the form of the rusting gun he had and the bottled flesh & muscle she tore from his throat that earned her the title “Wolf of Winchester” among the Aristocrats of Evil, from the nigh successful assassination in the form of the bloodied gown fabric and pressed white roses that wear dried crimson on their petals. There is nothing for the Phantomhive Fire. This rebuilt manor is a jarring memento mori of its own now. 

Cherry wood bookcases. It is stacked with books of worldwide mythology, folklore, natural remedies, strange leatherbacks, and lots of journals Claudia’s written personally over the years. There’s pictures of loved ones wrapped in oval-shaped, polished wooden frames, a lot of old wooden toys she made for her progeny that they’ve grown out of, a black onyx hand with all fingers lined with rings she made herself and holding an ornate athame. Currently, “Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus” sits with a long brown & white feather serving as a bookmarker. 

Urns. Three very precious porcelain urns that are specifically customized to fit the lives they belonged to: Vincent, Rachel, and Claudia’s seven hounds. While she drew the designs for Vincent and her hounds, she let Rachel’s parents decide how they wanted their daughter’s urn handled. She passed the drawings to the Undertaker and he made them to perfection. They rest on the previously mentioned bookshelf, side-by-side in a very gorgeous center display, with fresh white roses, rosemary, gladiolus & lilies from the garden surrounding them and small lanterns constantly providing a low, gentle golden light. There’s candles that have been melted to their hilts and others that are brand new.

5 THINGS THAT MAKE HER HAPPY.

DOGS. 

Mythology. Mythology and folklore have always been incredibly fascinating to her! They can easily eat hours away as she delves herself into learning more and more about them and re-reading the ones she already knows.

Family. I've said it once, I've said it twice, Claudia's a woman who adores to be surrounded by family. Her attempts to convince the Midfords to join with the Phantomhive household have gone shot down by both her grandson and her daughter. One day she’ll prevail. One day. She won’t but she can dream of having a full house again, let her dream.

The countryside. Honestly, the fact they live here instead of in the city was something of an immense comfort to Claudia because it’s a little reminscent of Donegal. She regularly takes Gelert for a walk and finds a nice green pasture to just sit in for a while and enjoy the wind. It brings such a huge wash of calm and relief and what she turns to when feeling absolutely stressed, anxious or angry. Her natural dopamine hit!

Sweets. The Countess has a bad sweet tooth like her grandson and loves to eat sweet things, including things of her own baking and creating! Wave any delectable sugary sweet before her face and you have her attention - not her compliance, but her attention. [ 1v1 phantomhive discourse is continuously stealing the other’s treats. she doesn’t even recall who started it but it is an on-going War. ] 

5 THINGS SHE'S CURRENTLY INTO.

Infinite woodworking! She has several projects going on at the moment, one being a boat and another being a marionette bitter rabbit she’s eventually going to get around to painting. Both gifts!

Foraging. Sure she can easily send the servants to buy this stuff from the market, but she likes to retrieve them herself. There’s a lot of berries and edible/medicinal plants in season right now and she’s pretty happy about that. :) Mulberries galore.

Reading. Very good exercise for her brain as she’s getting a little more forgetful in her old age, so keeping it busy with things like this strengthens her mentally. At the moment she’s not only reading Frankenstein, but she’s also reading about Japan mythology! That, and about strange monsters & creatures encountered at sea, actual accounts taken down by the author of the book who interviewed many-a sailor. 

Hunting. Not only does it give her a grand excuse to get out of the manor, but she needs to keep her archery sharp and Gelert in shape. 

Summer Games. Speaking of which, she has a title to defend! Sporting events are beginning to ramp up and the Phantomhive name continues to hold first place in the Archery branch, much to the chagrin of many who try their aim & speed against the Countess And Lose. Also, the events are always a bunch of fun to take part in - she’s dragging along anyone available.

5 THINGS THINGS ON HER TO-DO LIST.

Finish the on-going "Misfortune's Way" Funtom board game with Ciel. [ Ciel: 9. Claudia: 9. Neck-to-neck. Who Will Win? ]

Continue work on the boat she's created for the Midfords. She needs to finish carving their family crest into the right side of it and hollow out the rest of the bow. So much work to be done! But four months of blood, sweat and tears are going to pay off. :)

Fix that TERRIBLY painful floorboard her foot keeps hitting. It's been on this list for about a week now. She keeps forgetting or gets sidetracked! She’s getting a bruise. :( [ have tanaka do it? no no, she lets that poor man rest now. have sebastian do it? not a chance. "Are ya daft!? I ain't about to have that damned vulture creepin' about my own private quarters." ]

Pack up Tanaka, cook some food [ avoid bard. he always offers, she always declines after he set a strawberry cobbler she requested on fire right before her own eyes, and then proceeded to catch a portion of the kitchen on fire. she was so stunned she didn’t even notice Sebastian come in and bat out the flames LMAO. ], make some tea and head out with Gelert to her favorite spot to chill in the countryside and soak up the rays of Summer. She’s been so much colder than normal lately and needs to a b s o r b s u n. It’s Summer! She shouldn’t be freezing this much! [ although it is funny to put her hand on the back of people’s necks when they complain about the heat and watch them flip ]

Commune with the Goddesses at her forest altar. Bring the landscape painting she’s done for Brigid, bring the bloodied clothes of a fallen enemy for The Morrígan.

[kpopisthereasonihavenolife]

Kitsune | ii. winter

Jung Hoseok/Reader [F]

Genre: Demon Hunter AU, Action, Romance, Enemies to Lovers, Japanese Feudal Era

Warning(s): Contains Violence & Blood (Semi to Graphic Depictions)

Words: 11.7k

Summary: Demons: man-eating, murderous monsters who would kill anyone for the blood of humans: be it man, woman or child.  They have no need for comrades. Known cannibalize and kill other demons if they so choose. Demon Hunters are tasked with eliminating any and all demons without question, but what would come to pass if they were told that a demon saved a human life? Views, values and relations become altered and absolutely nothing seemed human anymore.  Never sharpen a blade too much, lest you become the wounded. 

Series Index | i. demon 

a/n: you would not believe how long it took me to edit this (and I'm sure there’s still errors RIP) Kudos to my gf who were on discord the entire time while I complained about proofreading LOL.  However! Here is the second installment of Kitsune! I’m pretty happy with how it turned out and please please please tell me how you felt about this chapter!!! Feedback is key folks *clicks tongue*

t.list: @kathrynwynterbourne @tiredjedi @kaekae-93 @multycoloredtaco @sunshinechim-98 @baojinnie @perpetually-single @lexi-tries-art​ @fallingjungwoo​ 

It’s been a year since Hoseok had brought you- a demon- back to the home of his superior Lord Fuuta.  In that year he has also not once come back to that manor.  He never knew what became of you, or of that old man who was on his deathbed; in fact, he pushed you both so far back into his mind he had forgotten after so long.  He wasn’t aware of Taehyung’s actions or assignments.  The only words he exchanged with his lord were short messages of demons that plagued areas that came to him on the talons of crows acting as messengers. 

It was the dead of winter once again in Japan.  Hoseok had hardly changed when it came to his mindset and his all-around opinions. Physically, his hair had grown enough for his dark bangs to brush annoyingly in front of his eyes.  With traveling and battling being his day-to-day occurrences, he began to grow more fit as time passed.  Still wearing his keikogi and crimson haori.  His eyes also withstood the trial of time; remaining as cold as they did for as long as others could remember.

He was currently sat at a small stand selling fresh dango and tea.  Pulling one of the three dumplings off the wooden skewer, he ate silently at the bar on a wooden stool.  A clay, green painted mug of steaming tea sat to the right of his small saucer- the warmth of the beverage chasing away the winter cold.  

The stand itself was a small one- hardly the capacity for the treats to be made behind the countertop and just big enough to squeeze in four stools- making a successful business a hardship. It was located in the middle of a busy city street.  The city he was located in was far busier than any he had come across in the region alone.  

Buildings that varied from small to large with at least four stories to them. All strung with lanterns and candle lights every which direction to light up the bustling, frozen, dirt roads. Travelers trotting through the city on horseback.  Women in loose yukatas- despite the freezing weather- to tempt men and women alike into the brothel in which they were employed. Shops and stands of all sorts; from foods to antiques that were filled with items that were more than obviously fake; sellers only looking for a pretty penny for worthless trash. 

Scamming was a whole trade in itself these days it seemed. 

Fabric shops, sit down places for dining, tea houses, smiths and weapon trades, even sexual desire personified existed in the city- if you look for the right part of the city that is. The city was filled with any one person’s wants and needs if you knew just the right places to look for them. 

Hoseok hated cities.  

He hated how his senses dulled because of the constant noise and movement around him.  He had to always be on edge because even big ‘safe’ cities like this one were exactly the place where all the right things start going wrong. Population does not equate to safety; a fact that most people ignore like fools. 

If he had it his way, he would already be long gone.  However, Fuuta had contacted him via his ever-familiar crow and requested Hoseok to come to this city in the first place as well as a stay until further notice. Fuuta even prepared Hoseok room and board in an inn that was acquainted with the lord. 

Fuuta never explained why Hoseok was to come here and sit on his rear end in a waiting game with no visible end in sight.  He angrily bit and pull off his second dumpling off the skewer at the idea that this could have been an ‘order’ for Hoseok to relax from fighting.  Hoseok wasn’t one to care for himself- pushing himself over and over with injury or illness.  Some might say he was devoted to his work, others- more specifically Fuuta and Taehyung- called him a reckless idiot for never knowing when to stop.  

Taehyung used to often reprimand him for pushing his limits constantly.  Beating him to a bloody pulp in training and literally trying to beat into his head some sense.  It never worked, however.  Hoseok wasn’t always so stubborn, but after an event that sent him reeling inwards in trauma, he’s changed drastically. 

Finishing the third dumpling of his last skewer, he sipped down the rest of his tea.  Standing and ruffling out his haori to let it lay on his back with ease as he placed down yen coins as payment for the small snack os sweets.  Slightly raising the short Noren hanging on the low ceiling of the stand with the back of his hand, he left the stand behind him and headed out into the busy streets. 

It was frosty out, but no snow was coated on the ground nor was it fluttering down from the sky.  Breath chilled in clouds and the frozen dirt crunched under the straw waraji of Hoseok’s.  Ice formed in puddles of discarded water that was thrown out from shops and merchants- begging for a child to run in a playful frenzy and fall on the trackless trap. This winter wasn’t nearly as harsh as the previous had been with nearly constantly snowfall.  However, that could always change. 

Hoseok walked, weaving pass and through the tresses of people.  Holding his swords at his hip, pulling the hilts of them up towards his stomach to straighten how they sat on his side- allowing the tail ends of the scabbards to avoid unnecessarily whacking into anyone.  Any accidental confrontation with humans didn’t interest him; picking fights with people just wasn’t his thing. 

Finding his way and walking into the aged inn he had been staying, he strode through the entrance and down the halls, up to the set of wooden stairs to the second floor.  The only other floor beside the ground level the inn had. Heading down the hall he recognized the room he was provided with days prior.  Pulling the key to the room from his neck that he kept looped on a chain and slotting it into the door, he entered.  

Shutting himself inside, he was met with his room and an open window that most definitely wasn’t open when he left.  Someone, or something, must be in the space with him hiding in the shadows and doing a damn good job of it.  

Keeping his back straight as he walked further into the room with slow steps, he stopped in the center.  Keeping his movements calm, he moved his arm across his torso to grip the hilt of the one sword he always drew.  Holding the top of the scabbard with the opposite hand, he extended his thumb to click the blade out only an inch. He slowed his breathing- now stuck in a game of patience.  The air buzzing in silence as he strained to hear something- anything to alert him. 

Springing from the dark shadow of his room directly below the window, someone charged at him.  Hoseok gasped, hissing through his teeth lightly at the speed of the attack.  He wasn’t even able to draw his sword, the perpetrator’s hand clamping down over his own- pushing the blade back into its scabbard. Grabbing Hoseok’s keikogi at the shoulder with one hand, the other keeping his sword sheathed they began to overpower the hunter. 

Overwhelming Hoseok as they took steps forward, they backed him into a corner.  The mystery figure was cloaked in dark all around and a mask hid their face. Their hair was as dark as their clothes.  Only their eyes remained visible as the dim light that leaked inside reflected off them.  Hoseok’s back was pushed against the wall, the attacker’s leg hiking to push the ball of his foot into the tail ends of the scabbards and closing the distance between the two to avoid any chance of Hoseok drawing.  

Moving the hand that once held Hoseok’s shoulder, they moved to grip his shoulder and quickly stepped back and knelt a fraction.  Twisting around, they pulled on Hoseok’s collar so his chest slammed into the attacker’s shoulder before Hoseok was being flipped over their body and his back slamming into the room floor.  Hoseok sputtering in gasps as the attacker then climbed onto his chest and pressed a knife above the hunter’s eyes.  

A knife Hoseok recognized.  

He let out a breath somewhere between the lines of a gasp and a choke when his body relaxed. He coughed lightly when the attacker also began to relax.  Lifting their knife away from Hoseok’s face and moved to squat above his chest rather than pinning him down.  Twirling the weapon before sheathing it in its small sheath on their back. They chuckled above him, pulling their mask down, letting the black fabric rest around their neck. 

“You really are a pain in my ass,” Hoseok grumbled, finally gaining back his voice after the previous assault upon him.  “What the hell was that for, Taehyung?” 

The light outside shone off of Taehyung’s face.  His hair had grown far longer than the year of last, resting between his shoulder blades, twisted in a braid that threatened to unravel. Face squaring out into a more mature one of a young man.  His birthday running around in the winter season, much like he always seemed to be when the two meet. 

The younger man stood before stepped over and off Hoseok completely, leaving him to finally sit up and rotated around his shoulder and rub at his chest where Taehyung’s shoulder slammed into him.  He winced in slight pain and major annoyance.  Taehyung had moved to light the lantern hanging in the middle of the ceiling before sitting himself down in a cross-legged fashion.  

It was odd to see Taehyung in his gear, but no armor.  His completely black yoroi hitatare gear and extremely fine waraji looked empty without the cover of his armor. From a sarashi belt to his yugake gloves- all was there as he sat like he didn’t completely jump his lower-ranked ally only a few moments ago. 

“Lord Fuuta will be holding a meeting with the main leaders of each branch soon,” Taehyung started out of nowhere.  “He wishes to hold it in this city and asks that you attend.” 

Hoseok looked at Taehyung with wide, incredulous eyes.  He slightly shook his head, running the samurai’s words over and over in his head to make sure he was completely taking in and understanding the meaning of each word he said.  Taehyung’s friendly look in his eyes faded as they steeled into that of Hoseok’s superior- a line he can cross between with ease. 

“The meeting will be held in three days, allowing the remaining leaders to find their way to the meeting location. In that time, I shall have a messenger sent for you to lead you there as well.” Taehyung closed his eyes, lifting his lips in a minute quirk.  “However, the choice in which you want to follow that messenger is all yours.  Fuuta requests you there, but it is no order.” 

Hoseok was skeptical about the situation purposed towards him.  “If there is no order, why the personal confrontation about the matter.”  It wasn’t a question he spoke towards his comrade. More of a stern accusation of something that may be laying under the surface of his words. 

Taehyung just chuckled inwardly to himself.  Pushing himself up off the floor to stand, he looked down the line of his nose at Hoseok still sat in front of him.  He walked to the wooden door opening it a fraction before looking back over his shoulder to the hunter.  

“Isn’t it better to have news spread face to face with whom it may concern? Especially since we’re already in the same vicinity to begin with.” He opened the door to leave but briefly paused on the threshold.  “Oh, plus,” he started again. Voice jumping in a care-free manner with any tone of superiority vanishing.  “It will always be entertaining to tease you,” he snidely finishes.  Ducking out of the room before Hoseok could react- likely in a violent manner.  Left in his solitude, Hoseok sighed. 

His brows furrowed in thought.  He wondered if he should really attend the meeting if that’s truly what Fuuta requested.  Or if he should just leave the city and deny the audience of leaders his presence. 

“What reason would they have to summon me in the first place?” He spits in what is best described as curiosity cloaked in anxiety.  Coming off in a cold, nearly spiteful sounding, tone. 

It was the dawn of the third day since Taehyung had come to Hoseok.  The meeting gnawing at the back of his mind like an itching wound. He fought back and forth on if he should truly attend or not. 

On one hand, Fuuta did request Hoseok to attend and he was curious about who the current leaders were- aside form Taehyung of course.  On the other, he had no purpose there as a lower-ranked hunter among them.  It’s not as if he is bound by the order to go- Taehyung said so himself.  The choice was up to Hoseok, no other.  Both options fought like rams stuck in horn lock. 

Hoseok lay restless in his futon in the same room that has been that of a cell to him recently.  His distaste for cities didn’t warrant him any desire to leave the inn unless necessary.  Dressed in a kimono provided from the inn staff, a white and grey striped piece with a grey sash, he lay utterly bored.  Staring up at the ceiling and unlit lantern hanging above him. One arm behind his head, the other placed on his chest.  Futon covers pushed down to his stomach. The first dim signs of daylight began painting the winter sky orange. 

It seemed to look like another day of cold breezes and yet still no snow.  Winter was always a bland season, even covered in white everywhere one looked.  However, the lack of snow made the cold stripped environment seem worthless.  Snow brought a sense of beauty to the naked, dead-natured world at least.  It was just another ugly dystopia without a blanket of white to cover it all. 

His attention was ripped away when his window- that was closed- began to lightly rattle.  Ignoring it, he only figured it was the morning wind washing over the city in its cold breaths.  His patience was always at a low in the mornings.  The constant window-rattling that seemed to only increase in noise also seemed to rattle away at the already scarce patience he did possess. Sitting up in his futon, he looked at the offending window.  

Looking past the glass, he contorted his face in a look of private confusion.  The bare limbs he could see outside didn’t sway at all, indicating the lack of any wind whatsoever.  It wasn’t blowing. Was something else doing it, or was he simply hallucination from being inside this tiny room day after day with his push and pull thoughts.  

Pulling his legs from the futon covers, he slid out of its warmth and knelt to his knee to lift his sights higher.  He could see nothing outside his window, yet the shaking glass was constant.  He began walking cautiously towards it. 

Hoseok could see the glass shake in the frame when close enough to observe it.  Lightly touching it, the cold glass rattled against his fingertips. His brow furrowed deeper trying to think of why it would be shaking so violently.  Looking around outside the trim on the small ledge, perhaps a critter hand been knocking into it.  However, no animal was seen. 

Grabbing the frame, he began to slide it open.  Pulling the window slowly to his left inching it along.  Moving slowly as to not startle what may- or may not- be at his window. The cold sailed in like a smooth brushstroke, seeping into the warm room by the vacuum of the window opening- cold eating away at warm. The chill traveled throughout Hoseok’s exposed chest snaking down his skin like a winter wind snake. Silence and cold were all that sat beyond his window outside. 

No breeze.  No early morning mutter.  No animals chirping.  Just silence.  Eerie to the human ear and unsettling peaceful to the hunter’s mind. 

The window was fully open now and with the window being open, the rattling ceased.  He let out a breath at the silence.  Standing fully upon his feet, he dropped his guard at the halt of annoyance from the glass. 

Just as his shoulders slacked down, something lept over the outside of his window railing.  Coming out of nowhere it lept inside, landing on Hoseok’s chest with four paws planting on his skin.  Pushing into him with enough force to knock him off his feet, he stumbled onto his rear before hitting the floor with his back.  With a heavy thud, he momentarily felt apologetic to whoever may be beneath his room.  

Laying breathless half on his futon, the four paws on his chest jumped off of him with more force he didn’t exactly welcome.  Wincing, he pushed himself to twist at the waist to sit up on his left side.  Supporting himself upon his left forearm and elbow digging into the floor, he held his chest with his opposite hand, lightly gasping back the breath stolen from him. 

Looking at what just pounced at him unnecessarily his eyes widened seeing a fox in his room with him.  It wasn't a regular fox either.  

Two twin tails swayed at its backside.  The pure white coat of fur with red decorating its forehead and tail tips in nearly flawless spirals.  Its paws licked with minuscule flames of blue that did not spread or did the flames burn Hoseok’s skin when it touched him only moments ago.  Eyes of gold piercing- nearly glaring- at him.  The fox was no bigger than the average work dog.  Hitting Hoseok at least at his knees in height.  

Despite its size, the intimidating aura buzzing off the demon fox would make anyone be on their toes in anticipation of an attack or any sort of quick, uncalled for action. 

Of course, his weapons lay behind the fox.  Leant up against the wall, cut off from his reach.  Hoseok cursed under his breath.  If this fox were to pounce again, Hoseok would have to depend on brute strength and quick thinking maneuvering to claim his swords. 

However, the fox did not move into any further advancing positions.  Instead, it just sat down.  Ears twitching and tails swaying, it simply sat and observed Hoseok.  Hoseok also observed back, not daring to move yet.  Caught in a deadlock of eye contact, no party moved a muscle until the fox got back up onto its paws and trotted to the wall were his haori hung.  Turning it’s back to the wall to once again face Hoseok, it sat below the haori. 

Hoseok’s brow rose in an inquiry.  The fox only continued to stare once again.  The way its tails whipped seemed like a gesture of invitation for Hoseok to change into it.  

“My haori,” he started speaking in a whisper.  Watching the foxes ears twitch.  “Put it on?” To his utmost shock, the fox bowed its head in a single nod at his question to which he was not expecting an answer to.  Though it wasn’t so unusual as the fox was demonic- it wasn’t like a normal wild animal. “Okay,” he breathed out in a long, low syllable.  

Slowly maneuvering around his room, he began to change.  Discarding his kimono and changing into his keikogi, pulling his haori of crimson over his shoulders.  Tying his obi sash around his waist, he pulled his waraji over his tabi socks and slipped his swords onto his hips.  Dressed just as any other day that has passed or that may be yet to come. 

The fox had moved from where the crimson haori once hung back to the open window.  Tails still waving past one another and gaze almost hypnotic when Hoseok resumed eye contact.  Hoseok turned to look at the fox with narrow eyes.  He never thought he’d be unintentionally following the orders of a demon fox.  He scoffed lowly at himself.  Stopping close to the fox in the window, it soon turned and jumped back outside.  

Looking out, Hoseok saw it sitting on a wall of stone just below the window ledge- only a leap width away.  Looking back at him in a silent way of instructing him to follow behind.  He had no reason to oblige this fox; however, had no reason to deny it either.  

Hopping from his window to the same wall the fox adorned, Hoseok followed. 

Climbing walls, rushing through alleys and hardly seeing a soul in the extremely early hour, Hoseok scowled.  He half-believed this demon fox was just leading him around for a lark- as foxes are more than a bit mischievous in bare nature.  Not to mention each time it looked back at him over its fur-coated shoulder, Hoseok swore it sent glares directed at him instead of confirmation he was still trailing on its tail.  

This fox was nagging on his nerves; that he was certain of. 

He wasn’t sure why he didn’t just get rid of the fox in the first place.  It was a demon after all, but just the thought of killing it put a bad taste in his mouth.  The line between what is animal and what is demon blurred- which has never happened to Hoseok before. He knew what he followed was without a doubt demon and it irritated him. 

Following blindly, Hoseok wasn’t even paying attention to his surroundings anymore.  Reacting purely on instinct and reflex as he kept his eyes on the foxes back. Soon, it stopped running before halting and jumping directly upward.  It’s back in front of his eyes before he halted as well.  Looking up, the fox now sat up on top of a tree limb.  Stretching and dragging its claws on the bark just barely before relaxing again and looking down to the annoyed hunter and his furrowed brow.  

The air change around him seemed to finally alert Hoseok that he just moved to a whole new location.  Gasping inwardly he averted his sights down and his eyes widened.  It was like he was in a whole new place out of the city; even the scenery wasn’t that of the winter season.  The weather was warmer too.  He looked around.  

Trees of wisteria surrounded the compound he was brought to.  The compound was elevated above the ground of stone and lush greenery like winter hadn’t touched it in a long, long time.  Much like that of the home of his lord with summer chimes ringing lightly with the breeze that wafted over the estate.  The smell of wisteria flowers that bloomed in purple surrounded everything.  

Moving his attention back to the fox, he saw it glaring down at him.  

“Where did you take me you damned fox?!” Glaring down at him further, the fox got up from it’s sitting position and hissed at him.  Ready to jump down from its tree limb to pounce on his chest again after accomplishing its task of bringing Hoseok to this location.  Its body stopped it’s future violent charge when it sensed someone walk onto the wooden railing porch of the compound. 

“That is enough, girl,” a familiar voice spoke.  “Come on back here now.”  The fox stopped it’s glaring at Hoseok, turned towards the compound and jumped from the tree.  Bounding the distance from the limb to the wooden railing, it landed with grace as a hand reached out to pet at its head.  Relishing under the touch.  

Hoseok looked at the person who spoke and shook his head in small swivels before pushing the ball of his hand against his forehead.  Looking at Taehyung call, command and even show affection to a demon fox flabbergasting him to an extreme.  Taehyung just laughed at him as the fox looked back at Hoseok, no longer glaring- but examining. 

“What is that face?  I told you I’d send a messenger in three days.” 

“You didn’t tell me the ‘messenger’ was going to be a demon!” Hoseok countered with a spiked fury, stunned Taehyung was loitering around a demon in the first place.  The fox’s ears bent back in agitation before they folded back in relaxation again when Taehyung placed his hand back on its head.  

“I didn’t need to.  Besides, what does it matter?  You followed her regardless of her demonic nature instead of attacking her.  I knew if she returned alone, you wouldn’t attend.” 

“I could’ve killed that fox, you realize that right,” Hoseok deadpanned.  Taehyung scoffed, patting the fox once more before folding his arms inside the kimono he spared.  His hair unbraided and resting on his shoulders and back.  

“She’s nimble and crafty.  The most you could’ve done to her is graze her fur.  She would’ve been fine if you lashed out violently. I have the utmost faith in her.”  Hoseok gapped at the confidence Taehyung boasted towards the small fox in front of them.  Taehyung looked down to said fox.  “Go head on inside.  We’ll call for you later, alright?”  The fox looked at him and nodded one low bow before jumping off the railing and running behind the samurai inside the estate.  

Hoseok shook off his shock before he sighed.  “Where did that thing bring me, Taehyung?”  Hoseok still not sure exactly where he was.  Too much happening far too early and too quickly for his brain to catch up completely.  

Taehyung smiled before he started to head back inside, only stopping to invite Hoseok inside with him.  Hoseok followed behind him, both men silent despite having tons of topics to talk about.  Hoseok only kept a cautious eye on his long-time friend as Taehyung kept a small smile on his face the entire time he weaved through the compound.  

“This is like Lord Fuuta’s home,” Hoseok spoke to himself.  

“It isn’t wrong to think that,” Taehyung replied to him.  “It is one of his private locations.  It’s hidden by a barrier, keeping it warm like spring.  He comes here often when his health warrants it.”  

A barrier.  Hoseok nodded.  It made sense- it would explain why it was so warm here and why the flowers and greenery blossomed so excellently.  Stuck in the bloom of spring- it was a nice time of year to stop the flow of time.  Hoseok’s eyes widened, becoming aware of something.  

“Taehyung, is Lord Fuuta here?”  Taehyung just stopped in front of a shoji door, constant chattering behind it.  “Taehyung?” 

Taehyung just slid open the door and walked inside, Hoseok following at his shoulder.  Inside was a group of six people.  Among them, Fuuta sat in his ever-constant glory.  He smiled warmly when his eyes set on Hoseok.  

“Hoseok, I’m delighted you decided to come.”  Hoseok just raised his brow, narrowing his eyes in confusion.  Fuuta just shook his head slightly with a small smile.  “Taehyung, you neglected to inform him, didn’t you.”  

“I can’t help it, my Lord.  It’s far too fun to tease him,” Taehyung sung cheerily.  If not in the presence of his lord, Hoseok would’ve clobbered Taehyung over his head for the comment.  Taehyung turned to his friend he had continued to string along- although he wasn’t fully to blame.  “Hoseok follows me without question anyhow.  It makes it easy,” he teased.  Hoseok was glad he learned self-restraint years ago.  

Taehyung left his friend’s side, moving to take his place at a table sat in the middle of the room.  Sliding into a zaitsu chair among the other six; however, there was still one open chair left.  

Fuuta moved to stand, the other’s coming to a stand with their lord in respect.  

“Welcome to the leader meeting of Demon Hunters, Hoseok.  Please, take a seat next to Taehyung if you would.”  

Hoseok stood dumbly still among the meeting.  Fuuta and Taehyung being the only two faces he recognized.  The other five were completely new to him.  He froze being put into an environment with so many strangers with gazes focused solely on him- the outsider. 

“Are you deaf, boy?!” Hoseok jumped when out of the stagnant silence a gruff voice boomed at him.  Yelling in a belittling tone towards the hunter.  The tacted on ‘boy’ referring to himself made his brow tick down in a pulse of annoyance.  Looking, it was a monk who was now glaring at Hoseok who had raised his voice. 

Even when sat down in his chair, the man was a massive specimen.  Broad shoulders with excessively muscular definitions that pushed along his body and made the kimono covering him look pathetic in its own threaded fabric patterns; his kashaya over his shoulder a golden shade.  The monk was bald with eyebrows condensed to the point there were only two small ovals above the inner corners of his eyes.  Carrying a staff with him- it being tucked under his elbow as he sat- it was iron made with a jewel fused onto the circular top. 

Hoseok suspected this particular monk happened to be nastier than a man among men who people would seek openly. 

“Well?!” He shouted again.  Hoseok caught a few other leaders rolling their eyes.  “Are you ignoring our Lord, or will you do as your told and sit, boy?!” 

“You’ll scare him away yelling like a mad man, Bunji,” the only female attendee spoke in a diversely calm tone. Her voice leagues below the loud echo of the monk- addressed now as Bunji.  Hoseok wondered if he spelled his name with the kanji characters meaning child or govern, seeing as he wasn’t anything childlike- the chance of irony almost made his lips quirk. 

The woman who addressed the monk was shot a warning look by him. She sat calmly, eyes closed and posture straight as Bunji’s staff.  Dressed in armor much like Taehyung’s, only fitting more to her feminine body.  Armor fitting and curving her breast as she sat on the left side of Taehyung. She was obviously the female counterpart to the male samurai sat next to her across the table from the monk. 

Bunji slammed his large, rock palm on the tables wooden surface in a fit.  Absolutely no reaction came from anyone aside from Hoseok who still stood at the door.  Rowdy and obnoxious behavior must be the normal- odd to see coming from a monk.  So much for spiritual ease and relaxation such as meditation.  

“If an outsider is frightened off, so be it!  Such a low-ranked soldier should not be present!” 

“He is here under Lord Fuuta’s request,” snapped the small, nimble man dressed fully in black beside Bunji.  Jet black hair, sitting with his arms and legs crossed.  “Do not object to our Lord’s wishes.” 

Bunji seethed as another gentleman in simple kimono garbs spoke towards Taehyung down the table.  

“Shouldn’t you speak up?” 

“I won’t,” Taehyung replied.  “Anything I say will sound like favoritism since I know Hoseok personally.  I’ll abstain from any comments regarding him.” 

“That is a very wise and mature decision, Master Taehyung!” Bunji shot off in a tone completely new. His condemning demeanor vanishing and being replaced with one of pure agreement when shot at Taehyung.  The switch of his attitude nearly giving Hoseok major whiplash. 

Hoseok spun in confusion- hypothetically speaking of course. 

A few claps from the head of the table and Fuuta calmed all present bodies.  Lowering his arms back down to the table, he smiled his normal, calm smile he seemed to always have painted on his face. 

“Please do not allow Hoseok’s presence to hinder the tasked meeting at hand.  Proceed just as usual if you would.” All were quiet as they silently agreed, no one disagreeing with their Lord. The once chaotically charged room simmered down as Hoseok finally made his way to Taehyung’s right.  Sitting in front of the black-clad, small fellow and now missing the condescending look shot at him from the monk diagonally across from him. 

In a few moments of silence, attention was shifted and gathered as the meeting finally began. Hoseok was clearly out of the loop, not comprehending most topics covered.  From field reports to medical updates and deceased count.  He winced when he heard how many of his fellow Demon Hunters have died since the last meeting held- whenever that may have been. 

Once all regulated discussions were ruled out, Fuuta dismissed the meeting- only temporarily, however.  He asked that the group of 6- Hoseok included- come to the small, miniature shrine and torii he had erected at the rear of the compound.  Claiming he had something to show and discuss with them all.  

Taehyung seemed to be the only body without a puzzled expression as to why and Hoseok could tell from the minuscule smirk he bit back that he knew what would be waiting there- what the thing is Fuuta wants to discuss is. His attitude did seem altered, even a few days ago when he snuck up on Hoseok- something hid under his task of ‘just inviting’ him. 

Once dismissed with Fuuta leaving first, Bunji was quick to catch Taehyung before he left as well.  Hoseok at his back as per usual.  

“Master Taehyung, might I speak with you?!” Yet more loud respect drawing out of the burly man's mouth directed only at Taehyung.  

“Perhaps later, Bunji.  I have other matters to attend to now.”  Taehyung shot him down without a breath of hesitation.  However, the massive monk was not at all pressed by the blatant rejection.  

“Of course!  Excuse me then!” As quickly as he flocked to Taehyung’s side, he left. Hoseok moved to stand beside his friend now.  

“What is with all the ‘Master’ titling?” Hoseok bit in attitude. 

Taehyung shrugged.  “I haven’t a clue, but he’s called me that since he met me.  Perhaps it’s because I’m ranked above him in terms of skill. Or, maybe he simply knows how to respect a man as handsome as myself.” 

“Oh, please.  Could you be any more humble?” Hoseok rolled his eyes as Taehyung chuckled to himself, leaving the meeting room and remaining leaders behind.  Hoseok took the time to finally ask who each leader was and what they command.  Taehyung hushed his curiosities until the two had moved to the private silence of his quarters- a fresh cup of warm tea in Taehyung’s palm. 

“Curious about the others?  You have every reason to be I suppose,” Taehyung chuckled.  “Then, listen carefully, Hoseok.”  Hoseok nodded, sitting with Taehyung on the cushions he had placed on the floor- finally beginning to introduce each leader.  

First, was the monk Bunji- leading in spiritual expertise. An expert when it came to exceedingly advanced and potent mantras for demon extermination.  Skilled with his jeweled staff for exorcisms and many sutras kept in the chest of his kimono as his weapons for battle.  Though his stature is intimidating and larger- when pushed into physical combat, be it with a demon or otherwise, he was not so skilled.  Out of the five leaders, he was ranked the fourth; as well as the newest leader welcomed into the fold- the previous priest dying overseas. 

Next, was the only female member among the mass of men.  The onna-musha, or female warrior, called Kaori.  Descending from nobility, she fights alongside men and has clawed her path up by annihilating any competition that stood in her way; beating men who snubbed or doubted her strength into submission to secure a path of future loyalty. A fierce, nimble and talent-flexible woman, she was a force to be reckoned with.  Respecting Taehyung as her senior and male counterpart, she self-proclaimed she will one day surpass him and be the top swordmaster; not just second best.  Ranked third among the other five. 

Then, there was the bluntly rude and cold shoulder of the ninja leader.  Almost always seen covered head to toe in his official garbs of pitch-black combat, he believed his work never halts and was prepared for any outcome that may lurch his way. Constantly on guard and doesn’t seem to have a joking bone in his body.  His calm and analyzing demeanor deemed him a practical genius in the field.  He often clashed with Bunji and his boisterous attitude.  His name was Takaki.  Ranked first and head of his comrades.  The best candidate for the overall leader after Fuuta;  however, he’s expressed adamantly he does not wish for the responsibility and declined the position offered. 

Ranked the fifth of the leaders for his lack of physical strength and combat skills was Tsutsui.  An expert on anything medicine and poison.  He was responsible for treatment locations as well as keeping the tally of those that have fallen. An entire mass unit of medically trained men and women is what he oversaw as he kept the conditions of any and all hunters filed away- even Hoseok’s.  His role among his peers was absolutely vital and without him, more hunters would lose their lives.  However weak he may seem, if pushed into a corner- his extensive knowledge of potent toxins and poison he creates could gain him an upper hand in battle as well as an opening to escape. 

Finally, was Taehyung himself.  The top samurai and swordmaster among them and ranked second of five.  With Takaki’s refusal of Fuuta’s position as the head leader later in life, Taehyung was to be his new successor.  When Hoseok learned that he was shocked.  He knew Taehyung was strong, but not so strong he was Fuuta’s protégé.  It made the gap between them feel wider than the mouth of the greatest canyon Hoseok knew of. 

Taehyung took the last sip of his tea, concluding the leaders’ introductions to Hoseok. “Does that answer any questions you may have had about their identities?” 

“I… suppose.  I still do not admire that monk, However.” 

Taehyung laughed.  “Yes, well, Bunji leaves that impression on nearly any new face he comes across.  You do not need to be friends, but he is technically one of your superiors.  Grit your teeth and at least try and co-exist with him.” Hoseok scoffed as Taehyung set his clay mug aside, moving to stand and pat down his wrinkled kimono.  “Speaking of co-existing, let us take to the back shrine.  Lord Fuuta is waiting.” Hoseok only nodded unsurely, standing and striding in time to Taehyung’s steps.  

His mind buzzing at what could be waiting for him- and the other leaders- at the shrine at the rear of the compound. 

When Taehyung and Hoseok arrived, only Takaki and Kaori were present.  Kaori offering a prayer at the miniature shrine as the two men arrived under the small torii gate.  Soon after, the remaining two leaders appeared- Bunji being apologetic in the loudest way possible only towards Taehyung for arriving late; or rather, arriving later than Taehyung did.  Hoseok still inwardly curling at his obnoxiously loud boasting. 

Then, their lord arrived- his wife by his side.  Shiro carried with her a folded parasol clearly designed and crafted from the continent.  Brilliant red with flowers painted on the bamboo arms and handle.  Those present lowered their heads to the two of them.  Some drawn speechless at Shiro’s presence such as Bunji who had never properly met her before and only heard of her from Fuuta. 

Taehyung was the first to lift his head and move towards the two, walking to stand at Shiro’s opposite side and taking the parasol from her, opening it to shield her head from the sun. Unknown to the others, Taehyung had been with the couple a vast majority of the last year.  Growing close to both as he trained and prepared with Fuuta more each day to one day succeed him.  All was still as they stood among the wisteria- until the breeze shifted.  

With a shifting wind, a blue fire ignited along the ground; circling the group of leaders- excluding Taehyung- and Hoseok. The trio of Fuuta, Shiro, and Taehyung standing calm and safely outside the flames as they had absolutely no reaction to its appearance as opposed to the initial panic from those inside.  The flames rose high, licking at the tree limbs in height and keeping everyone inside; trapped in a fiery cage. 

Instinct drove everyone as they immediately took to their weapons.  Staff ready, stances rigid, swords and knives were drawn from scabbards and sheaths.  Multiple eyes scanned the fire surrounding them before something sprung from the flames. A human-shaped demon leaping straight from the aqua flames, those same flames coating its entire body like armor.  It’s heels connecting harshly with the largest target’s chest- Bunji’s.  

The force making the monk stumble backward, the demon came to a near kneel on his chest before pushing off of him, flinging themselves back into the area of the rest. Kaori was the first to act- deciding that since the demon was small in stature, she would be the best physical match.  

With each strike Kaori offered the demon evaded.  Bending back and ducking below horizontal slashes and rolling out of the way of vertical strikes.  Rolling around to Kaori’s back, the demon took to the ground like an animal before harshly slamming their palm into her ankle- kicking it harshly out from under her.  Stuck between a fall to the ground and a step to save her fall, the demon shoved Kaori under her shoulder blades and pushed her out and through the flames. 

Covered in a shroud of its own fire, the demon turned back to the remaining men inside its fiery trap.  Bunji, still holding his chest from the demon’s initial action of spring-boarding off him, acting next in a fit of hurt pride. 

Moving his hand from rest on his chest, he slipped it into his kashaya.  Throwing sutra charms at the demon he drew from his wardrobe, the demon moved to burn them before they could touch its body.  Manipulating the flames around its body like flexible armor. Getting nowhere with his charms, and throwing his lack of expertise when challenging someone much more nimble than he aside, he charged and began swinging with his jeweled staff.  Just as with Kaori, the demon evaded- in fact with Bunji’s slower time the chance to evade and strike was fruitful.  Taking each evasion and adding a tap to his body and moving around him, he soon found himself immobilized.  

Frozen like a statue as he staggered to his knees- body paralyzed from the taps to his pressure points.  Pushing their chest to the ground, a tail of flame pushed under Bunji’s chest and lifted him up and over the wall of flames, throwing him cleanly out. 

Sadly, Tsutsui was absolutely no help in a short-handed, up-close fight with nothing he could use on his person as a defense.  The demon was easily able to rid him of the battle circle by simply taking hold of his arm, levering it over its shoulder and tossing him outside with enough force to knock him into Bunji’s still immobilized body outside.  

The demon screeched when something pierced through its flame-like armor and punctured its shoulder. The fire around its body seemed to diminish just enough as the sai that was sticking out of its shoulder burned in the flames.  The demon seethed as it turned to Takaki, standing with one of his two sai’s in hand- the other lodged in the demon's shoulder. 

Charging at the ninja, the two moved as if engaged in a dance.  Flames swirling around the two as Takaki evades just as well as the demon did.  Missed strikes, tumbles, and rolls, jumping and leaping to and away from the fire of azure.  It was a standstill until Takaki managed to get behind the demon and take hold of his lost sai, ripping it out of the demon’s shoulder.  Another ear-piercing scream before it’s attention was forced off of Takaki and onto Hoseok.  

Sprinting away from its previous opponent, it shoved it’s shoulder into Hoseok’s chest, knocking his sword out of his hand, the second one of his being ripped from his side and tossed across the ground away from the action- still held in its sheath. Hoseok eyed his own blade’s metal laying above his head as he was shoved to the ground.  The second one was no use- even if he was closer to it, he would not draw it into battle.  

The demon pinned him as Hoseok held its wrists.  Hovering claws of fire singed his hair as the heat pulsed into his nostrils and burned his lungs as he breathed.  The demon was stronger than most men he sparred with.  The fire of the demon's armor rippled and something akin to familiarization shot through Hoseok.  Clenching his teeth, he pulled his legs up between the two, wrapped them around the demon's midsection- burning his keikogi in the process- and twisted his hips to push the demon sideways into a downwards roll.  Allowing Hoseok to control the momentum to turn the tables and effectively pen the demon down in his previous place.  The flames becoming diminished by the dirt below, Hoseok looked at the face of the demon recognizing it.  

“You are-” 

“That’s more than enough,” Fuuta’s calm voice sounded behind Hoseok.  When Hoseok turned his head, the fire was gone and it was peaceful at the shrine once again.  As if the circle of fire was never there to begin with. Looking around, Bunji was being treated by Tsutsui to get him moving again and Kaori was dusting herself off and rotating her ankle that was harshly palmed earlier on.  Takaki was sheathing his sais as Taehyung stood at his side- assuring him danger wasn’t around anymore.  Fuuta and Shiro stood directly behind Hoseok who still pinned the demon- much less on fire- down. 

Looking down, Hoseok saw the face of the demon who had been on the attack.  The flame armor vanished, and beneath it all sat a simple, almost human-looking demon.  Small red tattoos run to a point along the curve of her cheeks and she was dressed just like Shiro- only her kosode of white was paired with a Hakan of royal blue as opposed to Shiro’s red Hakan. Hair a mess beneath her pinned state as Hoseok glared at her fox golden eyes.

“You’re that demon from a year ago,” he muttered more to himself than to you. Hoseok was soon shoved off of you, as you brought your leg up and slammed your heel into his gut, extending your leg to throw him clear off you, landing in a puff of dirt dust.  Groaning he moved to sit, rubbing his head as Taehyung was soon beside him, offering him a hand up and both of his swords back to him. 

The group watched as Shiro knelt to your side, sitting you up and pulling your Hakan loose just enough to inspect the damage inflicted on your shoulder from Takaki’s sai earlier.  The wound seeped steam and small rolls of blood that stained your kosode.  Fuuta- pulling a cloth from his kimono- handed it to Shiro to press along your shoulder.  You hissed when her cloth-covered palm pushed into your flesh. 

“It is nothing serious,” Shiro told you softly.  You only kept quiet and sat still. 

“My Lord,” Fuuta turned when called by Takaki and his harsh voice.  “I’d like to know the situation, if I may be so bold to ask.”  The edge in the ninja’s voice certainly wasn’t one of inquiry, but sharp agitation instead. 

“Of course,” the lord smiled with a small breath.  “I was not planning to keep this a secret from you all.”  Fuuta turned to Shiro.  “Take her inside for a change of clothing.  She’s covered in blood, dear.”  Shiro nodded as she took your arm, gently lifting you to your feet.  Some leaders still stood rigid at you on your feet.  

Shiro began leading you inside as Bunji finally managing to speak- his voice previously locked with his body.  “Should we allow Lady Shiro to be alone with that demon?!” His voice rough in his attempt to gather his previously lost breath. 

“Do not be ridiculous, Bunji,” Taehyung started.  “That demon is practically harmless,” he spoke calmly, his arms tucked into his sleeves.  Hoseok stood beside his smirking friend as Fuuta agreed with his protege. 

“It is true.  Y/n poses no threat to Shiro, nor I or Taehyung.  In fact, she isn’t a threat to anyone here, so rest assured.” 

“That cannot be so.  She just attacked us, My Lord.  She is plenty harmful,” countered Takaki- still enraged from the single demon ambush. 

“She acted purely on my instruction.  She was told not to permanently harm and did as she was told, she did not.” 

“You offered more harm than anyone else did, Takaki,” Taehyung countered. 

“I only did as I’ve been trained to do.” 

“Do not get swept up in an argument,” Fuuta warned.  “Allow me to explain further.  Come, children. Let’s return inside.” Fuuta headed back to the compound, the rest following with a breath of hesitation.  Hoseok stood frozen in pure confusion as Taehyung tapped at his shoulder.  Ushering the hunter to follow- any questions he had would be answered. 

Fuuta had once again gathered his leaders and Hoseok in the meeting room. Everyone sat in tension- aside form Fuuta and Taehyung that is. 

“As you all witnessed, Y/n is a demon. A year ago, it was Taehyung and Hoseok who brought her to me upon request.  Since then, Shiro and I have trained her as a weapon to defend humans and fight back against other demons.” A mumble of simultaneous shock filtered through the room. 

“That’s impossible!” Interrupted Bunji. “Forgive me, but I cannot believe a demon is fighting on the human side of this war!” Bunji quickly kept the remainder of his objection to himself when Taehyung shot him a look of silencing. 

“When she was first brought to me, Shiro and I placed a certain type of spell on her.  A specific obedience charm.  Now, she is as human as a demon could possibly be.  That being said, she is absolutely unable to kill any innocent or defenseless human who offers her no harm.” 

Kaori slowly raised her hand to summon attention to herself.  “You say innocent, defenseless humans.  Does that mean anyone guilty of a crime can, in fact, be slane by her?” 

“Correct.  Say, for instance, she crossed paths with a band of thugs looking to rob, assault, or even kill her.  She would have free action to defend herself and if killing them means sparing her life- so be it.” 

The room was silent again.  The tension was nearly tangible.  Fuuta continued when it seemed no one else had a qualm to speak of. 

“Y/n is a fox demon and between the three of us- myself, Shiro and Taehyung- she seems to favor and obey Taehyung the most.” Eyes shifted to the samurai.  Hoseok remembered the small fox that brought him to the compound that Taehyung has claimed to ‘send’ as a messenger. 

“Is she the same fox that I followed here?” Hoseok asked Taehyung.  The samurai nodded one deep chin touch to his chest with a smile.  

“She is.  I asked her to bring you.” 

“Another example of her loyalty to humans,” Fuuta added.  “She left and willfully returned when she had the prime chance to flee from us all together since she was without supervision.  Over the last year with Y/n, we have grown to trust her.” Fuuta sighed at his leaders' stoic faces. “I do not expect anyone to accept her fully; however, all I ask is not to antagonize her.  Shiro and I consider her a daughter we were unable to bare now.” 

With his final regards, Fuuta dismissed himself, leaving the rest to ponder.  

“Can we really trust a demon?” Kaori spoke softly- a whisper like a flower petal. 

“Of course not!” Objected Bunji, quite the opposite in loudness. 

“If it's what Lord Fuuta wants, I don’t see the harm in accepting her.  He did acknowledge her and showed he was able to speak commands and have her listen and obey them at the shrine.  When he said enough, that was it- all was over and she stepped down almost immediately.”  Tsutsui spoke as he stood himself up.  “I’m willing to give her the benefit of the doubt out of respect for our Lord.  As fellow leaders- you should all consider it as well.”  He excused himself as Takaki left in silence- not adding his opinion on the topic of you personally on his way out. 

One by one, the room was cleared out- each person leaving with uneasy emotions until only Hoseok and Taehyung was left. Sat in silence, Taehyung heard the rattling of Hoseok’s sword shaking in its scabbard as he held it so tightly his knuckles whitened ghostlily. 

Taehyung knew so many who hated demons, but he doubted no one's fury ran as deep as Hoseok’s.  Knowing he was part of why you were here when he and Taehyung captured you a year ago, it no doubt crawled under his skin.  After what Hoseok has lost to demons, he’s justified to feel the way he does- complete and utter contempt towards your existence. 

Taehyung only reached out and pressed his fingertips into Hoseok’s neck- almost instantly settling him back down.  

“Do not dwell and calm down, Hoseok.” 

“How can I?” He bit. 

“Blame me for working with Y/n if you want, but try and understand Fuuta’s decision.  Y/n is not the enemy, Hoseok.  I promise.” He left soon after his small discussion with his long-time friend. 

Hoseok shook his head to himself.  No matter how he wished he could- he could not blame Taehyung.  He could not hate his best friend and he couldn’t put the burden of his feelings onto Taheyung’s shoulders either.  

Clenching his jaw, he cursed himself as he sat in his own deafening solitude- his constantly sheathed second sword tight in his palm. 

A week went by and slowly each leader left the compound- one way or another coming to terms that a demon was considered a comrade at this point in time.  However, all agreed that if they see you as a threat at all or at any point- they would not hesitate to lop off your head. 

Hoseok still remained in the compound, Fuuta explaining that he needed to calm his distress before going back out onto the field.  Hoseok respected his wishes and stayed put as told.  If he so much as caught a glimpse of you, he’d stop and recede back in the opposite direction.  He’d instantly be put into a sour mood- so he avoided you at any cost. 

He currently sat in his room on the second story of the compound, boredly sitting at his window- staring out at nothing but frozen in time wisteria blooms.  His attention shifted when voices below his room on the second floor were heard. 

“You’re awfully moody.  What’s wrong with you?” Taehyung spoke as Hoseok heard.  His head lifted at his friend’s voice.  

“It’s nothing,” A woman.  One voice Hoseok didn’t recognize well.  

“Do not lie to me, Y/n.” Hoseok rolled his eyes as his head lowered back down.  Boredom engulfed with immediate annoyance. 

“I want that human out of here.” 

“Be more specific. Everyone in the compound is human besides you, you know that.” 

“That stupid hunter,” you bit.  Hoseok furrowed his brow knowing you had the audacity to want him gone.  

“Hoseok?” Taehyung questioned as you only scoffed at his name.  “Listen, he’s here because Fuuta asked him to be here.  You know that.” 

“Excuse me for not wanting to be in the same vicinity as the man who put me into this situation.” 

“Y/n,” Taehyung’s voice hardened.  “Disliking Hoseok for bringing you to Fuuta is wrong.  I was the one who knocked you unconscious, carried you back and delivered you.  Hate me if you are still dwelling on the past.” Hoseok flinched at the cut in Taheyung’s voice.  Scolding you for bringing up that night last winter. 

“That isn’t fair,” you fought back. 

“Why isn’t it, then?” 

“You don’t treat me like a-!” The conversation halted into silence.  Hoseok sighed, his eavesdropping seemingly finished.  

In a flash, a hand grabbed his open window ledge before you vaulted into view. Hoseok knelt on his knee as you threw yourself into his room.  Laying flay on his back, he ducked under your body that jumped into his room- originally wanting to tackle him down.  Rolling into his room, he was thankful to finally have his sword nearby.  Drawing it, he flipped it around so the dull edge faced you.  

Lunging at him, he whacked away your open claws aimed at him with the dull of his sword, allowing him to side-step behind you.  Reaching out, he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking you backward and pulling you down to the ground.  Yelping, you were soon back first on the tatami as Hoseok pushed his knee into your gut, hand releasing your hair to push his palm over your throat and the other holding the tip of his sword above your eyes. 

You both glared at each other.  You kicked, trying to buck free.  The pressure on your throat increased due to your struggle, Hoseok’s way to keep you pinned.  

“Stay. Down.” Hoseok hissed.  

You bore your fangs at him.  Grabbing at his blade, your palm cutting open as you moved the blade to the side forcefully out of your face.  Your other hand grabbing the wrist of the hand of Hoseok’s on your throat, lifting it with enough force to allow you enough air to speak again. 

“Get off me, human,” you growled. 

“Give me one good reason why I should.” The blood dripping from your enclosed hand around his blade gathered in small droplet puddles beside your head, bleeding and staining the tatami.  Hoseok was momentarily astonished that your blood was red- just like his. 

You both were locked in a deadly tangle, neither letting up.  Hoseok kept you pinned down and exerted more pressure anytime a single one of your muscles twitch- you just itching to move.  You continued to growl at him as he nearly growled back out of sheer spite. 

There was a murmur of commotion outside his door and down the hall.  Both of you drowning it out to favor the ringing of rage in your own headspaces.  The shoji door slammed open as Taehyung froze for but a moment seeing you both at each other’s throats- literally. 

“Hoseok! Y/n!”  His voice hit new levels of baritone as he ran into the room and forcefully picked Hoseok off you.  Getting behind him to lift his arms under Hoseok’s, he pulled him up and took steps backward- backing the both of them away from you.  You- finally having the freedom to move- quickly sprung off your back and crouched low to the floor.  

Ready to aim low just like a wild predator would.  Taehyung saw how you hadn’t calmed down yet, so slipping loose the waraji sandals he didn’t have the time to take off in his rush inside, he kicked it off towards you.  Taehyung could even make a simple, straw sandal a weapon as it rotated with an illogical amount of speed in the air before it hit you square in the face. 

Yelping from the sudden sting, you dropped down defenseless as you held your nose and forehead, the waraji falling to the floor at your side.  Taehyung sighed seeing your shoulders slacken. 

Taehyung twisted the upper half of Hoseok’s body just enough so he could step in front of him and slam his knee into his friend’s stomach.  Hoseok- erupting into a stuttering fit of coughs- took to his knees as Taehyung released him and Hoseok held over his sore stomach.  Taehyung picked up and sheathed Hoseok’s sword, placing it away from him as he walked over to retrieve his waraji, taking off his other because only hooligans wear their shoes inside. 

It wasn’t too much longer before servants of the compound caught wind of the futile scrap and came rushing into the room.  Ready to see a violent fight between the hunter and demon ally, they were only met with both of them on their knees with Taehyung vehemently standing over the two.  He glared at the servants' late arrival. 

“By the time any of you got here, someone could’ve been seriously injured,” he scolded the staff as they flinched down.  Taehyung sighed, knowing that they weren’t truly at fault.  He directed his sights back to you and Hoseok who now both sat recovered and completely faced away from each other.  “An explanation please,” he demanded. 

“He should know,” you scoffed.  “He started it.” 

“I- what?!” Hoseok shrieked. “Listen, Fox, I did not do anything!” 

“You did! You eavesdropped on our conversation! Ever heard of privacy or manners before, human?!” 

“Y/n,” Taehyung warned.  You immediately silenced any further argument and rose to your feet, palm still dripping small drops of crimson.  Heading towards the servants and open doorway, you stopped when Taehyung called at your back.  “Where are you going off to now.” 

“Anywhere as long as I am away from him,” you announced before walking passed and away from the servants and Hoseok’s room. 

“Hoseok,” Taehyung called, looking back at the slouched down, agitation hunter. 

“Do not bother.  I don’t want to hear it.” 

Taehyung only sighed as he left the room, shooing away the servants and shutting the shoji to his room at his back- going to return his waraji back to the entrance landing.  Hoseok looked at the blood droplets stained onto his floor before scoffing and returning to stare out his window.  Far less relaxed now than before. 

You slid open your room door with enough fury to fling it out of its groves- metaphorically speaking of course.  Stepping inside and slamming it shut behind you with just as much fury.  You immediately began pulling your kosode loose and stepping out of your Hakan.  Stepping behind the byobu screen you kept in your room, you practically ripped off your clothes. 

You couldn’t stand to have the smell of that human- Hoseok on you.  The scent bled right through your clothes and you’d rather bare your breasts to the winter chill than smell like him.  As you threw your kosode over the byobu, someone entered your room without announcement. You- of course- knew who it was.  Pulling a spare kimono littered in red spider lilies from the wire on your wall, you began to change into it.  

“Go away,” you said sternly. 

“Request denied,” spoke back Taehyung. 

“I was not asking.” 

“Well, I am still not listening.” 

“Taehyung-” 

“You know attacking Hoseok was wrong, don’t you?” You were silent.  “I have no doubt your back feels like it’s on fire by now.” He was correct.  The burned talisman on your back would begin to abuse your body when you attacked anyone out of reason.  You could feel your skin pulsing under the searing pain of your back.  “You know that I need to tell Fuuta about the incident, correct?” 

“Yes,” you whispered as you fastened your obi. 

“I’ll vouch that Hoseok became offensive and you weren’t completely at fault, but you need to learn to control your temper around him.” 

“I know.” 

Taehyung left after that, leaving you with a scorching back as you collapsed to your knees in your spider lily kimono, baring the punishment of your uncalled for brawl with Hoseok on your own. 

Hoseok was called to speak with Fuuta early one morning unexpectedly.  He thought it was strange that it was Shiro who called for him, standing in front of Hoseok's door and asking for him to follow her back to her beloved husband.  Something about the air around her seemed tense as Hoseok got up and began following at her back.  Stepping lightly behind her, she spared no time to even look around the halls she leads him down.  She only kept her eyes down, just enough to see the toes of her tabi-covered feet with each step forward.

Coming to a stop at Fuuta's personal room door, she announced herself before opening the door and stepped aside in the hall, allowing Hoseok passage inside.  She herself stayed out in the hall, bowing lightly and shutting the shoji at Hoseok's back slowly before he could hear her feet padding off back up the hall. 

Hoseok saw his lord sat at his desk that was built directly from the wall.  A calligraphy brush in hand as he painted pitch black words onto an open, flattened and unwrinkled scroll.  Dressed in a kimono much different than his normal elegant ones, his hair completely free of any ties or restraints.  He turned to look at his hunter and let a small smile grace his lips. 

"Please, take a seat," Fuuta gestured to the empty cushion to his left.  Hoseok bowed a fraction before obeying him and folding his knees under himself sitting down.  His palms sat on his thighs as Fuuta resumed with his brush strokes. "I have a favor to ask of you.  Of course, I would like to ask Taehyung of the same favor, but I thought it best to run it by you first, Hoseok." 

"How come, my Lord?  Taehyung is your successor, is he not?  Why would you address any issue with me first?" Hoseok pondered as Fuuta lightly chuckled.

"True. Taehyung is like a son to me now.  He's invaluable, and he is also exceedingly loyal.  He'd do anything I ask even if he thought it ridiculous." He held his kimono sleeve with his opposite hand as he reached his arm over his table and dipped his brush in more ink.  A lock of his black hair falling over his shoulder.  "However, you are different.  You're a man of many rules and strict do’s and don'ts.  With that said, you're free to refuse my words if you so choose."

Hoseok furrowed his brows as his open palms began to curl.  "If I may, is this perchance going to involve that demon fox?"

"It is."  Hoseok bit his tongue to keep a rude scoff and eye roll at bay.  He was in front of his lord.  He cannot be rude nor can he be rash. "I know you and Y/n do not mix well, as are both of your natures.  Y/n has hated humans for a long time and you feel the same towards demons.  You both see no reason to side with each other and that isn't wrong considering both of your situations." 

"That demon's situation is no concern of mine," he said with a tone as cold as the winter air. 

"Yes, I know you feel that way.  However, this request of mine is something of importance.  I fear something tragic will take place soon."

"Something tragic?  What do you mean?" Hoseok's back shot straight as a rod.  Fuuta only shook his head.  "Lord Fuuta, what's going to happen?"

"It is not something for you to be directly involved with.  Shiro and I have been expecting this for a long time." Fuuta stopped his brush strokes and placed his brush down, setting the painted bristles over the ink jar.  He then turned towards Hoseok, looking him in the eyes.  "We wish that you and Taehyung take Y/n out of the compound."  Hoseok nearly flinched as Fuuta directed his eyes downward, back to his desk and a smile pulled his lips in the most saddening way Hoseok had ever seen.  "I've said before that Y/n is like a daughter to us both.  Taehyung considers her a young sibling and she herself has long since felt the bond and warmth that a family can bring.  You do not know it, but even that child is capable of smiling."

Fuuta stood and walked to his window, cracking it open as the sky that was covered in grey clouds would soon be spilling individual flakes from above in the afternoon. The birds of winter singing far too chipperly in the freezing weather. 

"For what's to come, I cannot honestly say." 

"Taking her off the compound is only half of the mission, isn't it Lord Fuuta?"

"I only expect you and Taehyung to have her experience more locations. She is a demon fighting for humans, she shouldn't be kept inside her entire life where the battle cannot come.  Anything after that is solely up to Taehyung."

"Taehyung? Why him specifically?" Fuuta only shook his head, turning to look down at Hoseok and placed a single finger over his curled lips. 

"That is a secret, little hunter of mine."  He gestured for Hoseok to stand and offer out his hand. Doing as instructed, Fuuta pulled something from his kimono and placed it into Hoseok's palm.  A glass flower- a crimson spider lily.  "Your final task is to take care of that small flower. Can you do that for me, Hoseok?"

Hoseok nodded even when his head was fogged with confusion. When Fuuta dismissed him, he was passed by Taehyung in the hall.  Taehyung seemed to completely ignore Hoseok's presence, rushing past him and down the hall.  Hoseok ran into Shiro again and this time instead of just bowing at him like she normally would, she stopped him. 

Silently grabbing his wrists, she placed his hands together between her own and closed her eyes.  Opening them again, she looked up at Hoseok. 

"Please, look after my girl."

Hoseok blinked down at her and before a response could form on his tongue, she dropped his hands and continued on her way.  He looked at the glass flower still sat diligently in his palm.  Just the sight of the flower made his throat constrict- like he was on the verge of tears. 

Just what was going to happen that Fuuta and Shiro were worried about?  What were his leaders and best friend hiding from him?

[tallyzwolf]

Pyke x Reader: Harrowing

Had an idea and I went with it. Let me know what you think!

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

You were dreaming. It was a strange dream: quiet and loud, colorful and monochrome. There was no explaining it, and you had already forgotten it as you were jolted awake by the sounds of gunfire. Above on the deck, you heard the crew screaming and running about. It was pitch black, and you frantically searched for a source of fire to light the lantern by your cot. You threw your boots on and scrambled up the ladder.

It was nighttime, but the fire igniting the mast of the ship brought light on the chaos. You grabbed for a shipmate and flipped him around to face you.

"What the hell is going on?" you shouted. Your voice was almost lost in the noise. Your frightened friend just shook his head and pushed your hands from his shoulders before he fled. You had no time to react before he leaped over the side of the ship.

You looked to the sky and saw it then, a dark, swirling mass of green mist; it was intimidating and terrifying, though all rational thought argued it. The wails of men rang in your head, screeching and reverberating in your skull. You clamped your hands over your ears and shut your eyes, trying to comprehend what was happening around you.

The white noise grew louder, and before you realized what had changed, the sea had swallowed you whole.

The sinking ship created a vortex, and you kicked. You reached for the surface that only flew farther away from your desperate fingers, as did the light of the burning vessel. Your eyes wide with fear, your lungs burning.... this was it. Whatever just sunk your crew had claimed you, too. Your eyes closed and your arms went limp above your head.

Fingers touched your lips and you gasped for breath under the waves. Alive! Alive, and somehow you knew how... his face appeared in front of yours, and he had his hands cupped your jaw as you collected yourself. He collected you in his arms and swam, propelling you both toward the surface like a sailfish.

You spat water as you coughed, the salt and soot splattered all over the dock. The screams hadn't stopped, and you were surprised to feel embarrassed being this vulnerable at the Fisherman's feet.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice warbled and gritty as always. You spat and wiped your mouth. Was the answer not obvious? He pulled you up by your arm so you were back on your feet.

"We have to go. It's not safe here." He looked like a hawk, searching for threats. You snatched your arm away from him and took a step back.

"Pyke, what the hell is going on?" You snapped. A woman shrieked nearby, and you watched as she, too, leaped from the docks and into the water. She didn't come back to the surface.

"Harrowing," he replied. His eyes rested on yours, and you were shocked to see the slightest tinge of worry in them. "I'll explain when you're someplace safe."

You didn't want to argue. You followed closely behind him, keeping your footing.

There was an inn, and the bottom piece normally served as a bar. The door was boarded shut, which seemed strange. Pyke grabbed you and pulled you through the wall seamlessly, as if there were an open door. He leaned you against the wall and hesitated. There was no one here. The place was dark, except for the eerie green glow from the Mist outside. You sunk to the floor, taking the past several minutes into account. He stood over you for a moment, in some sort of protective understanding.

"The Harrowing," he began. "There's a long story about the Shadow Isles and how it got... sick. All you gotta know right this moment is it's pissed, and Bilgewater is the closest thing for it to leak into. Happens once in a while."

You scoffed. He talked about this like it didn't just sink your ship and probably the Captain with it. Though you supposed he had been through worse.

"What do we do?" You asked, ruffling your hair nervously. He looked around, surveying the bar. He paced for a few seconds and peeked out a window.

You screamed at the sound of shattered glass. A creature had used it's face to break a window on the other side, and chewed at what remained of the glass in the window frame; it's teeth and lips were sliced and bleeding, and the Mist rolled off its tongue. You were so shocked, you hadn't realized you weren't screaming anymore.

Pyke drew back his harpoon and threw. It landed with a wet THUNK in the thing's skull and returned to his hand. The body slipped under the broken window.

"Not safe," he growled. He looked like he was searching for something again, and then said, "Stay here."

It felt like a burst of air as he dashed through and behind the wall you sat against.

Your chest tightened. He left you alone, after that? Your eyes were fixed on the broken window and the little streams of Mist that slithered through the shattered glass. You pulled yourself onto your shaky legs and over to a wooden chair that had been toppled on it's side in the excitement. You brought your boot down on it and it broke. You picked up a leg and held it like a knife. It was a sad excuse for a weapon, but at least it had a sharp point if anything with flesh decided to come through that window.

You backed against the wall, faced the broken window, and held the chair leg with both hands. It was only a few minutes until a pair of hands grabbed you from behind and sunk you through the wall again.

"Damn it, will you please just let me use a damn door like a normal human?" You snapped, throwing the chair leg onto the ground. Pyke looked offended for a moment.

"Let's go," he said. You followed him quickly and quietly through the market alley, until he stopped you. You crouched and waited. He sunk into a wall and appeared as a shadow for a moment; the shadow slinked around the corner and then returned. He stepped down out of the wall and signaled for you to follow again, silently.

This place was the Slaughter Docks, and it certainly smelled like it. Above the center of the circle hung a giant creature's corpse, still slowly dripping blood into a deep drain in the ground. It was easily a hundred feet long. He fumbled around for a moment in one of the vendor stands, and you scoffed as he pulled up a sack of coins.

"Is now really the time?" You crossed your arms. He opened the pouch and handed you a little silver coin.

"Financial support." He chuckled, and stuffed the sack in his belt.

A moment later, Pyke's hand grabbed your shoulder and he pulled you back behind a market stand. You peeked, and another creature rounded the corner, dragging elongated arms behind it like heavy chains; it's mouth was a disgusting oval, stretching inhumanely down to it's sternum. The Mist poured from the gape, and it's sunken black eyes were fixed on the sky.

"Take this," Pyke whispered, handing the dagger to you. It was much heavier than you thought, and you found yourself speechless wondering what he had planned. You watched his shadow swim towards the monster.

The creature was forced to his knees by a ghostly force. Pyke grabbed the thing by the back of the head and brought it down onto his knee. He let go, and his knee making a squelching sound as it was pulled from the corpse's mouth-hole. He turned to you, but was suddenly knocked down by another creature.

You startled and gripped his blade and the coin, watching helplessly as he wrestled the thing. His hands were in either side of the creatures mouth, trying to keep it from biting him. He was struggling. Pyke needed his weapon, and you had it. Why did he give it to you??

Your knuckle turned white as you gripped the coin in a fist. You felt so helpless, so utterly helpless...

But you weren't helpless.

He grunted loudly and tried to push the creature off of him. The dagger stuck in the thing's head, and it went limp on his body. He whipped his head to you and smiled under his bandana as the dagger returned flawlessly to your hand several feet away.

"Nice hook, kid," he chuckled, pushing the dead thing off of him. You approached and helped him to his feet.

"Let's get the hell out of here," you sighed. Pyke brushed off his pants.

"Gimme that, first."

You handed him his weapon, almost reluctantly.

You came upon a grate in the street, and the Fisherman stopped before it. He hooked the back of his dagger to it and lifted, revealing a small crawlspace with a ladder leading down.

"Safer down there," he grunted, tossing the metal grate aside. "You ok going first?"

It seemed like there wasn't much of a choice. You stepped onto the ladder and descended. Your boots clanged on each step, and the echo made it sound like whatever was down here was very spacious. There was no light as you stepped onto solid ground. It made you anxious. Pyke appeared beside you and lit a lantern. You took a moment to wonder where he got the lantern, and also if it would be too much for him to use a ladder.

The place was simple and surprisingly not disgusting, for what you believed was a drainage system beneath the Slaughter Docks. You walked with Pyke for a moment until he found a semi-dry spot of concrete. He sat, his belt jingling with coins and metal. You sat beside him and sighed.

"Should be safe here til it blows over." He said. He set the lantern down on his opposite side.

"Mm," you were at a loss for words. You were exhausted and overwhelmed; you rubbed your eyes in silent hope that when you opened them, everything would be normal. But this was normal now, it seemed.

You laid your head on his lap, unconcerned what he thought.

"You saved my life back there," he stated. You chuckled with your eyes closed and replied, "You aren't alive."

He actually laughed.

"Yeah, you're right. Maybe we can do this again next Harrowing, then we can be even."

Your eyes opened.

"Next Harrowing?" You asked.

He laughed again and rested his hand on your head, letting a few strands of your hair run through his fingers.