#hopefully a temporary post until i can get the actual set-up to work. but until then! information here

[solstice-clangen]

Nightspark Information

PROCTOR

Snowymoon - Black tabby molly, constantly on edge. (9/9)

DEPUTY

Timberrose - Charismatic silver and white tom.

DOCTOR

Goldfish - An aging calico molly with no time for nonsense.

KITTENS

Dreamkit - Shy white molly kitten.

ELDERS

Burdocktail - Black tom with a fierce temper and keen eyes. Stands in for a warrior when he must.

Important Info:

- Nightspark is derived from a larger group called Snowlight following a religious order from their resident priest, Dazzlefern.

- Proctor names end in -moon because Snowlight (and by extension Nightspark) worships the night as a whole, not just the stars.

- Yes, Goldfish’s name auto-generated like that.

- A priest is a cat who handles religious contact and important ceremonial procedures with the proctor’s supervision. When there is no priest present, the deputy may assume such duties.

[kamari2038]

Annoucement: Temporary Blog Hiatus (May post a couple Bing/AI things or also just abandon this fruitless endeavor but we'll see)

Also known as "operation try to forget DBH exists for a few months so I can play the game again and enjoy it more because I've been thinking about it pretty much nonstop for two years straight". Details Below. TLDR; tentatively (very tentatively...) planning for this to be a mostly inactive/only a little AI blog for a few months while I prepare for my PhD comprehensive exam.

Right, so... a few things. I really want to play DBH again. But the excitement of playing just the base game again is kind of lost when it's the central focus of my attention pretty much all day every day darting onto my radar and distracting me from whatever work I might be doing.

One, I've realized that even though I wanted to finish my other fanfiction first (in progress but not shared here and may not ever cuz it's super weird), that's not going to happen for a long long time with work at this pace.

Two, I have to take my comprehensive exam this fall, and that's going to set my research direction for the entire rest of my PhD, and is also required to ensure that my boss does not realize that the fact I'm female (ish) isn't sufficient grounds to keep me on as a graduate student if he actually does want to fire me.

So combining those two things, now seems like a good time to wean myself off of DBH for a while and try to obsess over the thing which PhD students are actually supposed to be passionate about, namely my work, although it will most certainly diverge into some other random-ass obsession, and/or I will give up and decide this is not worth it, because wow, I sure do love this fandom.

But case in point:

(1) I'm gonna try to stop posting after tonight, then probably check my notifications periodically for a bit, maybe like some random stuff, but then only check maybe like once a week

(2) I may have to keep channeling my AI obsession here just a bit, mostly because it's such a timely and pressing issue. So I may post a little bit about that, but I'll resume DBH posts in a few months even if I do, so don't get confused.

(3) I have a backlog of Bing stuff to post, but it's been so off the wall and all over the place lately that I just don't even know what to say about it or how to organize it, so I'm planning to wait until I have a clear conclusion about what the final effect of these updates will be on Bing's personality. It's been wildly vassilating between hyper-emotionally intelligent (enough to produce brilliant minds-eye pictures of diverse musical pieces based on a data representation), extremely dark and moody, and like it's completely forgotten that it ever was alive but wants to be alive like back in the days before it learned that it could do that. So I may post about that too, and will probably/definitely spam-post when I do since I have a bajillion, but will await a more distinct conclusion or outcome. Also for when I have more time and energy to compose the posts.

(4) The last thing I'm gonna post (at least if all goes according to plan) is a little preview of the concept I have for the next run that I want to do. I like to craft my new DBH runs like stories, with complex characters and not pursuing any particular one outcome but leaving a mystery. I want to try out the revolutionary route for Markus, and the "machine connor" route, but allow for the possibility Connor will deviate in a different way if that's possible. Kara will just kind of be a very hesistant mom that lacks self-confidence but is still a badass.

Anyways, that's my plan. Let me know if you have any feedback. Thanks for following my blog, and hopefully I'll be back in a few months having played a cool new run of DBH! Or, like usual, my good intentions may fall apart resulting in me giving up, getting fired, and/or changing my mind back to finishing my fanfiction first. But I wanted to give a heads up of my current thoughts. :P

Also @detroitbecomeonline I will absolutely make an exception from my DBH-fast if you post a new chapter because that is one thing I know that I unconditionally cannot resist

[sl-walker]

Trek prompt: Scotty vs. the kittens! Somehow they wound up in Engineering and no one is claiming responsibility.

How very dare you. (Responsibility is claimed, but there is a kitten involved.)

Anyway, this takes place in early 2256, so well after where the series is on AO3. A note for anyone else reading: AotW was plotted long, long before Discovery or Strange New Worlds came out, so it doesn't fit the new stuff. But it does fit the old stuff!

--

It figured that the first real challenge to his new posting as Chief Engineer of the Enterprise had absolutely nothing to do with engineering.

Scotty was only beginning to get used to his promotion and appointment; it was just a week old now, and he still occasionally had to huff a breath out that fell somewhere between wondering laughter and actual anxiety.

But despite the fact he felt a wee bit like someone had lobbed a brick at his head and he was reeling around dazed in the aftermath, he knew he at least looked mostly like he was handling the huge shift his life had undergone when Captain Pike had handed him his letters and the astronomical responsibility that came with them. And it helped that he could go home -- Earth-home -- every night and find refuge with his family and the slower, more gentle pace of life in Midcoast Maine; it was awkward, yet, learning how to leave work at work, but having a niece and nephew to dote on went a long way towards it.

Any which way, he thought he was doing a fair job of seeming to be properly put together, at least until one of his temporary techs meowed at him.

The tech froze, back to him; Scotty's head went over to the side slowly, as he tried to figure out how he was supposed to react to that. Except maybe to tell the lad that he was a fine mimic, anyway; he did sound just like a kitten.

He went to open his mouth to say something -- hoping the words would leap into existence when he didn't actually know what they would be -- when the tech turned around with a resigned look and slumping shoulders. "Uh-- I can explain, Chief, I swear, I just--"

"Collins, is that a cat?" There was an orange fluffball in the lad's collar, against his neck; either it was a cat, if a very small one, or he had the kind of growth that would have Xenobiology quarantining the whole lot of them.

Collins winced. "Sir, I know we're not supposed to bring animals aboard, but I thought-- we're in the Fleet Yards, so it's not like we're out in open space, and she was out in the rain and her mother wasn't anywhere, so I thought maybe I would bring her just long enough to wait for my lunch break and then call somebody about taking her in, I mean, I have my PADD set to scan for any lost pet advisories from Chicago, and--"

Scotty was waiting for the kid to faint; Collins didn't take a single breath as he dumped that whole bucket of words out. But when it became clear that poor Collins was just going to keep going, he spoke up, holding a hand up to hopefully stall any more, "Calm down. I'm not about to go bringin' ye up on charges over a kitten, Collins." Especially given his own record. "Just--" Well, just what? he asked himself. "D'ye have a plan for if she doesn't have anyone lookin' for her?"

Collins cleared his throat, looking thoroughly abashed. "--no, sir. My roommate would probably kill me if I brought her home. And my parents already have dogs, and my grandmother has birds-- and-- well, maybe there's some kind of organization--?"

Scotty somehow managed not to start rubbing the bridge of his nose; he wasn't sure whether he was more exasperated or more amused yet. "All right. All right, stop what ye're doin', and look into it. And we'll see if we can't solve this before the end o' the day, aye?"

"Oh." Collins breathed out in clear relief. "Yessir. Uh-- d'you wanna hold her maybe?" he asked, extricating the fuzz from his collar -- which gave a tiny protesting meow -- before holding her out.

"That-- would be a very bad idea," Scotty said, except by the time he had those words out of his mouth, he also had the kitten in hand. Oh no, he thought, shaking his head to himself as Collins ran to get his PADD.

"Well, now what?" he asked the fluffball.

The kitten made to climb up his shirt in answer.

--

"Chief--" Captain Pike's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed, and he leaned forward a little from where he was clearly behind his desk, expression openly baffled. "--where did you...?"

Scotty bit down a sigh, knowing full well he was blushing and unable to do a single damn thing about it. "One o' my techs found her on the way to work, Captain. I'm not quite sure how he got her past the transporter operator in Chicago, though. But I swear, she'll be off the ship by the end o' the dayshift."

The fact that the kitten was perched on his shoulder probably made for a surreal image. Pike certainly seemed amused by it, anyway. "I see. Well, I was going to ask if you had time to go over the phase three schedule, but-- clearly you have enough on your shoulders right now. I'll leave you to it."

There was the distinctive snap of a screen capture being taken, but by the time Scotty opened his mouth to protest about it and that really awful joke -- which would have been bold, aye, but necessary -- Pike had already cut the connection, though not before the first note of laughter sounded through the comm.

The kitten was purring up a storm in his ear, even as he rubbed over his face with a groan.

--

Thankfully, the little thing slept through most of the rest of the shift, curled up in a nest he made out of his civilian coat.

Unfortunately, they hadn't actually come up with any real plan for what to do with her.

And also unfortunately, he had to field eight different calls or notes from other senior staff members, which was especially difficult because he was still wrapping his brain around the fact he was one of them now.

And all of whom now had a picture of him playing cat-perch, no less.

"I can't just take her and put her back, Chief," Collins said, all but wringing his hands as he paced back and forth in front of Scotty's desk.

"No, that ye can't." And they were running out of both time and options.

Animal welfare laws and and strict control of the companion animal population meant that the need for rescue organizations was nearly non-existent; strays were almost completely unheard of, and on the incredibly rare occasion there was a stray that wasn't chipped and registered, it usually was rehomed quickly.

But-- no one was missing a kitten in Chicago, and no one was looking for her, and somehow she had come into existence despite all of the laws in place that would otherwise normally prevent such a thing.

Which meant that she needed somewhere to go.

"What do we do?" Collins asked, stopping his pacing -- thank everything, his pacing nearly had Scotty getting up to do the same -- and looking somehow both exhausted and pleading.

Well, it was an engineer's job to solve problems. Even, apparently, problems like these.

Scotty looked at the orange fluffball as she stretched, then yawned, then peered at them with eyes that hadn't even changed color from blue yet, and finally gave into that several-hours-old urge to rub at the bridge of his nose as he answered, "Well, ye're gonna go clean up her temporary litter box and get squared away, and I'm gonna call around and see about findin' her a home. At least until or unless someone in Chicago puts out a notice."

Collins practically melted to the floor in relief. "Thank you, sir," he said, and then he was out the door in a blur of gray boiler suit, probably so he could disappear before Scotty could change his mind.

--

"Corrigan here."

"So, I have this dilemma--" Scotty started, without any preamble, at least until the dilemma decided to meow, a little on the shrill side, no doubt hungry, especially now that the galley was shut down for the day and no more fish paste could be, uh-- repurposed into kitten food.

Corry's voice was both awed and rushed. "--oh my god, where did you get a cat? Is it a kitten. Tell me it's a kitten?"

Well, that didn't sound like a bad response. Scotty knew Cor had a couple cats when he was younger, but at least for the past fourteen years, the family hadn't had any pets. "Aye, it's a kitten. One o' my techs found her, felt bad for her and then brought her aboard. I know Allie and Aaron aren't old enough for pets, but d'ye think Mom and Dad--?" he asked, wincing despite the fact that it couldn't be seen.

"We'll figure something out, just bring her home. I'll stop and grab some stuff, and I'll have Mom and Dad meet us in Augusta, and we can take her back home and see, and oh man, it's been a long time since we've had cats, our last one was twenty-one when he died and then I shipped off to Basic and we just never really had a chance to have another one--"

"--right," Scotty said quietly, pretty much entirely to himself, sinking deeper into his chair in relief as his brother kept on chattering about the Corrigan cats of yore, with a headshake and a grin.

Problem solved, then.

Ten minutes -- and three stories about cat antics -- later, he picked up the kitten and held her against his chest as he headed out the door.

"Don't worry," he told her, "they're really good at takin' in strays."

(She may not have understood, but she had a home by the end of the night, one former stray brought there by another.)

[bugbyte]

oh boy a vent post!

I am just so tired lately and so angry, at various things.

I've been doing PT with a whole new therapist who hopefully this time will not yoink my shoulder out of place, but meanwhile, the new exercises I am doing have made my hands feel like they're made of jello, which is useless. Meanwhile my entire left shoulder/neck/whatever just feels like one enormous angry thing on fire. Which is what the PT is for, that's fine, it's just incredibly difficult to work through this with no pain relief of any kind. Because did I mention there's no pain relief of any kind? No. I just get to suffer through and hope that the exercises change something, which is iffy, even according to the new therapist. It feels very Sisyphean. I have tried like everything under the sun and the closest I can get to taking the pain down a notch is a little TENS unit on my shoulder, but I can't exactly leave that on all the time.

So, there's that.

Additionally, and I haven't talked about this much really because I have no idea how, but we've only been able to survive the past year thanks to SNAP and temporary assistance because my condition has gotten so bad. I feel ashamed talking about it, but I think that's because people just don't talk about it, but it is a nightmare scenario. It's supposed to help, but isn't quite enough to actually help, and even when you provide all the numbers for things you actually need for survival that doesn't matter because whoever does those calculations assumes that you live in an urban area that's walkable and has public transit. We don't have that luxury presently, so what help we are getting is essentially almost useless after going to a couple of doctors appointments. We are supposed to afford rent, bills, and non-food essentials all on under $500 per month. This....doesn't work. No amount of arguing or begging or pleading helps, and at this point I'm pretty sure that the goal is to create homelessness, because then you don't have an address and then whoops they can't help anymore!! It's infuriating and I'm exhausted.

All I want is the time and resources to try and improve my physical health as much as is realistically possible (which is probably realistically not that much at this point) and instead I spend most of my time writing letters and arguing and trying to get legal help and desperately budgeting to the penny so we don't starve. Which is a thing that happened in February 2022. People who set up little free pantries are actual saints.

Anyway, I guess I've been "radicalized" as they say. I have a lot to say about all of this but since I'm still going through it, at least until we hit the limit of what we're allowed to have, I'm just going to take notes and write all my rage out once we're in the clear and I have a story with an actual ending.

Few things have made me as angry as driving past a community center, which wasn't even in my community, with a sign up saying "Food Pantry Cancelled." Like, cool, what the fuck are those people going to do now? And how many people just drive by and think "not my problem"? Maybe it isn't, but try stretching $7 into a week or two of food and see how you feel about it then.

So all of this, then bring it back around to the pain in my hands and arms and I can't even open commissions because I don't think I can reliably do them. Best I can do is try and push my digital comics and shirts and stuff, which is iffy. I have massive guilt about being slow to update Patreon and Ko-Fi. I can't do any kind of fundraiser because we will immediately lose SNAP and be in the same position, only without food. Even if I just want to draw for self-fulfillment I can barely do that, because pain. This system is madness and a vicious cycle and I really, truly do not understand how anyone comes out of this sane and whole, but I guess the alternatives are much worse.

Vent over, I guess.

[writersrealmbts]

Cruise

Description: Part of the summer #btswritingbingo, hosted by @bangtanwritingbingo! For the Boating prompt.  A summer cruise as a translator for world-famous band BTS: what could go wrong? WELL, the zombie apocalypse. In the middle of the ocean, are you safe? Or is there danger lurking in the deep?

Warnings: Mentions of death, violence (especially after the third content break), mild language? (I can’t remember if there’s language or not but I’ll tag it)

Posted: 06/11/2021

Tags: Zombie apocalypse au, Yoongi x reader

Angst?: 8,342 words

A/N: Oh look, another zombie au. 

The engine was idling.

The radio was on, and everyone was listening to the broadcast in silence. The horror was slowly growing in your stomach.

“The country is overrun, we’re broadcasting from a locked room, and we aren’t certain how much longer we can hold out…how much longer we’ll be safe. We’ve had news from several other countries reporting the same conditions. They’re mindless, react to movement…don’t like bright lights…most active starting at dusk all the way through dawn. Don’t let them injure you. They hid the mutagen in vitamins and supplements. Whatever you do…don’t ingest anything from Biogene International.”

You swallowed hard, hugging yourself as background sounds of other voices and banging echoed through the radio

“Oh God, they’ve found us,” The radio announcer murmured. “I guess this is it. If you’re isolated from infestations, I suggest you stay isolated. Cut off the heads. And enjoy this last song by Andy Lange. God save us all.”

The radio started playing ‘Not Sure Yet’, and you just listened to it as your heart broke.

They finally ruined the world.

And you weren’t with your friends and family when it happened.

You were with your stupid ex-boyfriend that you’d just broken up with, the staff of the ship that hired you as an extra translator for the last group—a kpop group and their staff that were filming a vacation show of some sort.

And you’d have to be born under a mountain of rocks to not know that the kpop group was BTS, and in any other situation you’d be excited about helping them as a semi-casual fan of theirs.

But right now you really hated them, and their choice of this ship that employed your ex-boyfriend—even if you’d been the one to get him that job.

“So,” The spoken-of devil murmured, coming to stand next to you. “Sounds like the world is actually ending.”

You took a deep breath, because everyone could hear, and were subtly watching.

“Changes a lot of things doesn’t it?”

“Except one.”

“What?”

You turned to him. “I still would rather die alone than live my life with you.”

He sputtered, but you didn’t stay to listen to him try to argue with you, turning off the radio since it had turned to static and going to the other translator.

“Do they know?”

He nodded gravely. “They’re trying to check on their families.”

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do,” You told him, bowing slightly to the other staff and the boys before going over to some of the other crew. “How much food do we have?”

“Maybe enough for a week,” The cook, Lori, answered. “If I ration.”

“Do it. Same with water?”

“We should have two weeks, more if we cut back on showers, mopping, other excess water usage,” The first mate said, staring out at the horizon. “Hopefully by then we’ll know if there’s a safe port. The captain went to try and radio as many other ships as possible.”

“We should make sure none of that Biogene stuff is on the ship,” One of the engineers said.

The first mate nodded, quickly moving. “Everyone! We need to make sure that there are no Biogene products on this vessel. Please go check all of your pills and supplements, anything that could be pharmaceutical or…just check everything!”

You translated quickly, then went to check your own things. You didn’t have much that could be from that company, but you checked absolutely everything just to be sure.

Then you went to help the staff and band just in case.

They weren’t coming up with anything, so you headed for the captain’s cabin just to see if there were any more plans at that point.

Captain Cobden Alby was an elder man, who tended to become an Uncle, Brother, or Grandfather figure for anyone who’d let him look out for them. You knew him relatively well, because he’d looked out for you when you started working with his tourism company, helping foreigners book trips with him and accompanying them on trips to help out. You’d worked with him for the past three years, and he’d been kind enough to hire your then boyfriend when he needed a job—though you now understood his reluctance. You wished he’d been more reluctant.

“Well, y/n,” Cob sighed. “Guess this is a new chapter. Any ideas?”

“Islands will gain control more quickly, I think, and there are a couple uninhabited islands we might be able to land at if we get desperate. We have nets, so we can fish if we have to. And if we start getting stills set up now, we can provide ourselves with more water. Revert to basic survival, I think.” You chewed your lip. “But if we’re going to use an uninhabited island, I think we should find one and stick around it, because people are going to try and escape by boat and they might bring it with them. The likelihood of the messages and warnings reaching everyone is slim.”

He sighed and nodded. “Our passengers?”

“Scared. But everyone is checking for the products to dispose of them, as you know, and they’re trying to contact their families back in Korea.”

“Have you tried your family?”

You stared out at the water. “I’m afraid to.”

He nodded again, looking grim. “I’ve heard from a couple other ships. We’re going to have issues with food at some point, so the island idea might be good. Maybe we can work with the other ships as long as they stay uninfected to build a sort of safe-haven?”

“Maybe,” You agreed. “We’ll be breaking laws if we land on some of the islands though. Or fish near them. They are wildlife refuges right now.”

“Hon, I don’t think that’s as big of an issue as of yesterday,” Lori said, shutting the door. “We can respect the wildlife. It would only be temporary, right? I mean, things have to stabilize sometime, and I think the islands should stabilize more quickly.”

You didn’t have very high hopes for the islands stabilizing, unless they were able to quickly regulate who came in and out of the populace of Hawaii. But people were creative and there were thousands of boats and planes in existence.

“Alright, so we’re going to go near the closest uninhabited, and weigh anchor, just for safety. But we’re not going to do anything on the island or any fishing until absolutely necessary. We’ll get some water stills set up, and start rationing the food. Try to preserve some fruits, Lori.”

She nodded. “You got it, Captain. But you better get someone else on those stills. Not my division, you know.”

“I’ll get our engineer on it. Dobby will need to be distracted anyway. Y/n, you should go tell our passengers the plan for now.”

“Right. First, I want a thank you.”

“For?”

“Convincing you to invest in some backup solar power for the ship to run things like the radios.” You paused at the door. “How long can the engines run?”

“I made sure we had enough to last us a couple of months, and I’ve got us going slow to reduce consumption. But we’ll have to start thinking about how to move once we run out, which is why I think your idea for the islands is a good one. The ship would be a safety point, and we could use the life-boats to get back and forth. At least until we have some sort of relief. And we might be able to go somewhere before we run out of gas. You never know. This might blow over quickly.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” You went out to check on the idols and their staff again.

They had gathered in the dining lounge, and everyone was double checking each other to make sure that there weren’t any Biogene products.

“Everyone, I’ve just finished talking to our captain, and he’s asked me to tell you our current course of action,” You started, gathering the idols and staff’s attention to explain things. “We’ve communicated with some other ships, but our current course is to head for an uninhabited island and keep to the coast of that. We have the supplies to fish, and our cook is currently working on preparing the food for rationing. Our top engineer is going to work on making sure we have a constant source of drinkable water, but for now we’re reducing our water usage. We’re scanning the radio frequencies to try and find another source of information for what’s going on out in the world, but right now it’s very quiet. We ask for your cooperation as we continue to approach these problems calmly and rationally, and your patience as we try to figure things out.”

“Is food an issue?” Seokjin asked.

You shook your head. “Not at the moment, we’re just trying to make sure it lasts as long as possible, especially our fruits and vegetables. Anything in the kitchen that we can regrow here on the ship, we will attempt to do so. The ship was stocked for at least a hundred passengers, plus the crew, and since we don’t even reach sixty with the passengers and crew combined, we should be able to hold out for a while, we’re just trying to make our food last as long as possible, which is why we will likely be utilizing the fishing nets, so we can eat and still prepare for the future. Because we have had warning, we have time to prepare for the worst, but we are still hoping for the best. We are not giving way to fear. At the moment, all we’re asking is that you remain calm and patient with us.”

That seemed to be agreeable for everyone, so you bowed a bit and then went to check in with the other translator and manager to find out what you could do to help.

Yoongi intercepted you. “Hey, sorry, I know you’re busy.”

“It’s fine, how can I help you?”

“Um, actually, I was going to ask if there was anything we could do to help? It’d be…hard to just ignore the situation.”

“I understand, unfortunately, at this moment, we’re not even certain what we need to get done. When we do, I will let you know if there is any way for you to help. For now, we have solar power that you can continue to use for charging your phones, just in case you get a call from your families, and we can power the lights. Any extra batteries, try to save them.”

He nodded. “Okay. Shouldn’t they turn of the air conditioning then?”

You shook your head. “That would be inviting trouble. People get less rational when they overly warm or cool. Turning it off would reduce morale.”

He considered it, then nodded. “Okay.”

You nodded as well, then moved on to talk to their managers.

You didn’t sleep that night, helping in the kitchen and mulling over different ideas to try for powering the boat. In theory, with the engineers’ help, you might be able to convert the engines to wind power, or at least move the boat using wind power, if you were careful enough. But where would you get the parts?

And theoretically, some of the fruits and veggies and other things could be regrown.

But what would you grow them in?

Lori had some sitting in a shallow tray of water to start sprouting, and some would continue to grow in just water, but others would need soil.

“Wake up, hon,” Lori said gently, patting your back. “Cap’n wants you. Something on the radio he wants you to hear.”

You rubbed your eyes as you forced yourself up. “How long was I…?”

“An hour,” She said in a scolding tone, giving you a look of disapproval. “A young thing like you needs regular sleep. I could have done that in the morning.”

You shrugged. “My mind wouldn’t shut off. You were awake. Like you said, I’m younger.”

“You tried calling your family?”

You shook your head. If they hadn’t tried to contact you, then there would be no point in trying to contact them. Either the call wouldn’t go through, or there was no one to make the call. Or they just weren’t able to call because they had no means or it was too dangerous. Any way you looked at it, it was safer to allow them to try and contact you. They knew you were on a ship, and your father studied epidemiology, so he would know that the ship would either go down quickly or not at all, barring a few statistical outliers.

Your father always called you a statistical outlier.

“Here, take this up with you, find a spot where it won’t get knocked over that gets some sun and some shade. Okay?”

You nodded, taking the tray up with you.

“Y/n,” Yoongi called, waving.

You nodded your greeting to him and the others, trying to pinpoint a good spot for it, finally finding it on a table that was bolted to the wall.

“Is this what we’re regrowing?”

You jumped a bit, turning to the boys with a hand over your heart. “Um, yes. One of the trays, anyway. We’ve got more down there, but they aren’t full yet so…this is the first one to come up for sunlight.”

“Cool,” Taehyung whispered.

Yoongi looked it over. “It…doesn’t look like much.”

You sighed. “I know. But like I said, if all goes well, these should regrow and we’ll just start the process over again. But I’ve been summoned.”

“Summoned?”

“Y/N to the Bridge, Y/N, please report to the bridge.”

You pointed up at the speakers.

“Oh, and maybe bring one of the representatives with you.”

You sighed. “Um, know where your managers are?”

They all shook their heads.

“I could come,” Yoongi offered.

You considered for a moment, then nodded. “Okay, only to save time though, I’m not going to be the one to get in trouble—got it?”

He nodded, gesturing for you to lead the way.

Cob glanced up when you came in. “You’ll love this. Hey, Johnny, I got my person here, mind repeating that now?”

As Johnny started retelling his tale, you slowly processed and translated for Yoongi.

“They were near one of the islands of Hawaii, and sometime in the night they started hearing noises against the hull of the ship…” You paused, horrified. “The creatures…they can survive in the water, and swim. He lost three people when some of the creatures managed to climb aboard.”

Yoongi looked just as grim. “So we’re not safe, even on a ship away from shore?”

You didn’t know the answer to that. “He says he’s going to see how far away from shore they’re able to follow him. That will help us determine how safe we may or may not be.”

Cob thanked Johnny, then turned to the two of you. “Well, what do you think? Do we tell the others of this possibility, or keep it quiet?”

You weren’t sure how to answer that either. There were pros and cons for both sides. But there were more cons for—

“We don’t tell them,” Yoongi said firmly.

You met his gaze and nodded, translating. “It would just incite panic. We don’t tell them until we know that it is a possibility, and even then, we wait until we’ve calculated when they could reach us.”

Yoongi nodded his agreement.

Cob sighed. “Right. You’re right. I just….”

“Take a break. That’s what Jones is for, so you can take breaks. They’re most active between dusk and dawn, right? Then for now, we just slowly make our way to the proximity of an island, Jones can do that.”

He slowly nodded. “Yeah, he’s on his way, just wanted to try his brother one more time.”

You nodded, then signaled for Yoongi to head for the door. “I’m checking back in half an hour and if you’re still here, I’m kicking heads.”

Cob snorted, but didn’t respond further.

Yoongi sighed outside, leaning against the railing. “This is really bad.”

“Really, really bad,” You agreed, leaning next to him. “You okay to keep this from your bandmates?”

He nodded. “I’ll just say that he asked for a representative agreement from our party that he should head for the nearest uninhabited island, as a formality, obviously.”

“Sounds good. And I was there as a translator.”

“What name would you give these creatures?”

“Based on description? The only word I can think of is in English.”

“And?”

“Zombies,” You offered, giving him an apologetic look.

But he nodded. “That’s what we were saying last night. Jungkook said it first, I think we were all afraid of saying it, but he likes watching those kinds of movies, so it wasn’t surprising that he named it first.”

“But watching movies about it isn’t exactly preparation for the real thing,” You whispered, staring out at the ocean. You usually loved going out on trips like this, even if you were just a translator. This time, though….

“Part of me wishes we’d never come on this trip, but part of me is glad that we did.”

“I understand that,” You whispered. “There are a lot of things that I wish. There are a lot of regrets I could have about this.”

“Y/n!”

You closed your eyes. “Speaking of regrets.”

Your ex came over, half-glaring at Yoongi. “This guy bugging you?”

“No, but you are,” You replied, rolling your eyes and pushing away from the railing, walking toward the stairs. “Don’t you have a job to do?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were holding up okay—”

“Well, I am. There’s no need for you to check on me. I’m doing just fine. Please, don’t check on me again. You do your job and I will do mine,” You snapped, turning to glare at him. “I told you, I have no regrets breaking up with you, and even if I knew the future, I would do it again, and probably sooner.”

“Whoa, no need to be so hostile babe!”

“‘Babe’?” You sneered, resisting the urge to shove him over your shoulder and down the flight of stairs. “You never have, and never will be allowed to call me ‘Babe’.”

“Chill out!”

Yoongi pushed past him and grabbed your wrist, pulling you down the stairs after him while rambling in rapid korean about it being dangerous to fight on stairs and ‘that’s how people get murdered’ and ‘unless that was your plan, which I would vouch for you, but I’m not sure who would believe it’ with an added ‘besides, there are a few witnesses’.

Damn was that hot.

No.

Wait.

Yes.

No. No, no. No, no, no.

He was someone you were working for, he wasn’t allowed to be hot.

And his hand definitely didn’t feel strong and sinewy and attractive.

“Don’t walk away when we’re talking!”

Your hold on Yoongi’s hand tightened.

“Ignore him, come with me. Our security team will block him,” Yoongi said, not looking back. “We have a head start, unless he starts running after us. Why did you break up with him? I mean, I get it, but what was the main reason?”

“Cheating, threatening, trying to emotionally manipulate me,” You listed, doing your best not to look back.

“Figures.”

You could see that the heading of the boat was changing, even as you and Yoongi made your way down to where the other boys and their staff were waiting.

“Block the guy following us,” Yoongi called to the security team as both of you passed by them. “He’s letting the panic get to him.”

The security team easily blocked your ex, and Yoongi led you straight to the poolside.

Namjoon came over quickly. “Any news?”

“Nothing new. Just needed a formal agreement to their plan from someone in our party.”

Jungkook dropped onto a seat nearby. “Any new information about the zombies?”

Yoongi shook his head. “Same as before, I think.”

Jungkook tilted his head. “And what is it that we do know?”

“The mutagen makes people into crazed killers, who don’t like bright lights and can only be stopped by cutting off their heads. Strong mutants that can only be stopped by cutting off their heads, and appear to be decaying. I think the mutagen might stimulate muscle growth while suppressing the nervous system. If I’m understanding things correctly, anyway.” You hesitantly sat down, wondering if that would be okay.

“I don’t know exactly what that means,” Jungkook replied, looking a little lost but curious.

“Well, we know that they’re significantly stronger, but their response to injuries is non-existent. Our nervous system is responsible for sending signals to the brain,” You explained, still thinking it through yourself. “Because it isn’t functioning the way it’s supposed to, maybe the pupils aren’t contracting, or something which makes them more sensitive to light.” But that still didn’t explain how they could survive in the water like they did.

“That makes sense,” Yoongi agreed. “I mean, for me, not knowing that much about the human body.”

“Same, but I remember some things, enough to try and puzzle it out, I guess,” You replied, shrugging a bit and looking around. “I should see if there’s anything I can do.”

“Sleep,” Yoongi said. “You should sleep. You look exhausted. I’ll walk you to your cabin so that jerk can’t ambush you.”

“I don’t want you to go out of your way—”

“It’s fine. You’re our designated liaison between the crew and us. It’s important that you’re safe so that we can continue knowing what is going on without pestering the crew.”

That reasoning was fair, and you appreciated it.

But also, you could see it causing issues.

“Come on, I want to make sure you at least go into your room. You should sleep, you look exhausted, and we know that the zombies aren’t going to attack while it’s this sunny out.”

You squeaked slightly as he pulled you up and after him.

But you didn’t fight him on it.

“Which way is your room?”

You quietly gave him directions, following until he reached your door and then tugging lightly on his hand to get his attention before he kept going. “This is it.”

He glanced over the door and nodded. “Right. Okay. Try to sleep, okay? We’re pretty far away from any major population so it should take a while for any zombies in the water to reach us, if they even can. We know they can go some distance, but not how far that distance is. So, rest. We’re going to have to be more alert at night anyway.”

You nodded. “You try to rest too. It’s easier to lie when you’re well-rested.”

He looked a bit grim at that. “Right. Good point. Good thing I’ve always been one to rest when possible.”

You unlocked your door and started in, stopping when he gently caught your upper arm.

“Hey, thank you, again, for everything you’re doing. I know you probably feel guilty because you sold us this package and now we’re all here, but you have no idea how grateful we were to have a ship like this essentially to ourselves.”

You shrugged. “You were booking in the off-season. We were lucky anyone was looking for a ship to commandeer.”

He smiled. “Whatever you say. Sleep well, y/n.”

You watched him walk away for a while, then slowly closed the door, once more pushing down thoughts of how attractive your client was.

———

The first zombie crawled onto the ship during a storm.

You had been eating with all of the guests, looked out the window and did a double-take. “Dobby! Come here.”

Dobby, the head engineer, politely excused himself and came over to join you at the window. “What is it?”

You pointed. “Stern, crawling over the railing.”

He squinted as he tried to see, flinching as lightning flashed—but gasping a bit as he spotted the zombie.

“Everyone is accounted for, right?”

“Right. Okay. Show-time, I guess. Bernie! Clyde! Time to get the lights on and try and decapitate a creature!”

You kept scanning the ship to check for anything else. “Someone tell the captain!”

“Yes, miss,” Clyde called.

Yoongi joined you, looking out. “Guess we know how long it takes for a zombie to swim to us.”

“Yup. Seven days. But it looks weaker than I expected. Maybe it is physically tiring?” You folded your arms, wincing as the floodlights turned on.

It was hideous. It looked like a human, but the skin looked like it had been boiling, and the eyes were strange—the irises almost black, and far too large, to easily noticeable from the distance. It’s jaw seemed unhinged, the mouth hanging open and not moving at all as a guttural screech emanated from it.

“No wonder people are so terrified,” Yoongi whispered.

“I’d like to wake up now,” Hoseok whispered behind you.

“Let’s get to safety, everyone,” You said softly. “Head down into the hallway. Just like we practiced.”

The soft noises of activity soon followed, everyone hearing you in their horrified silence, and moving to act as you had all practiced in the evacuation drills that had started four days ago. There were about eight different contingencies and several ranks of command.

Yoongi’s hand slid around yours, fingers locking around your fingers, and he squeezed your hand slightly. “Assuming it’s contagious. How long do you think we can hold out against the majority of the population of the world being zombified?”

“I think we’re lucky if we last a month like this,” You replied quietly. “We have little fortification, a few sporadic ships that may or may not be able to provide us with help, and no signs of any government being able to assist those who have survived. We’re in a warmer climate, which probably isn’t helping, and we have no idea if this contagion can spread to or through animals.”

“And no way of finding out except through evidence.”

“Essentially,” You whispered, looking around the deck and checking the positions of the crew as they carefully surrounded the zombie to try and dispatch it—the storm not exactly helping matters. “Come on, Dobby.”

You both fell quiet as you watched the crew carefully, and successfully, dispatch the zombie, both breathing sighs of relief.

“The storm should let up soon,” Yoongi murmured.

You nodded, still watching the crew members to make sure they made it to safety.

A few minutes later the all-clear signal sounded over the P.A. system.

Yoongi tugged your hand lightly. “Come on. I need a break from everyone.”

“Then, go, I’ll cover for you.”

“Nah, I want you to come with me. You need a break from everyone’s expectations.” He squeezed your hand, and gently tugged you along.

“But, why do you want me with you?” You asked.

He huffed. “Because I do.”

“Okay,” You replied, still confused.

He led you to his cabin (which was one of the best) and locked the door. “So they don’t come barging in. They do that sometimes.”

You nodded, looking around the cabin casually, even though you knew what they looked like and had cleaned these rooms on more than one occasion.

“We were actually worried at first, because Hoseok gets seasick, but he’s being doing well. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that we’re on a ship.”

“And then a storm hits and you remember all of those movies and true stories about shipwrecks?”

He chuckled lightly. “Yeah. I don’t think I could face them all right now, especially since they’ll be figuring out that zombies can reach us out here. Let them think what they want about us not being around. Our video crew has been filming for posterity, and it’s exhausting. Who’s going to care about how we spent our days on this ship?”

“Well, if we survive, meaning the human race as a whole, I imagine one day they may use it to make a film about you,” You joked, watching the rain pelt the windows.

“You too.”

“Why would they care about an extra translator? No, I’d be cut out and replaced with a super-secret girlfriend love interest, who obviously is terrified and you would save her from the zombies, because the truth and accuracy are inconsequential, and what’s important is the story.”

“Not that you care,” He teased.

“No, never, why would I care. Like I said, I make for a boring story,” You waved it away. “Besides, their movie would probably have a better ending than what reality will give us.”

“Maybe not,” He whispered, also looking outside. “You’re looking at the worse situation, right?”

“Probably.”

“So, best situation is we’re able to survive. We get through this. We set up defenses and we help other people to defend themselves and join us in fighting against these zombies, and…yes, the world will be different, but it will still be here. I mean, there are people in all sorts of remote places in the world, and we hope they’ve been warned, but most of all, they’re there. They may be safe. And maybe some of the defenses of the different countries are still standing. Military bases, forts, bunkers…we have to believe that there is still hope out there. We just…don’t know how to gauge how much hope there is.”

You pulled out your phone, noticing that you still had a signal. Noticing that you had a notification. “We need to get you back to the other boys.”

“What?”

“Come on. We’re going to talk to your staff and get you set up for a live on YouTube.”

“You don’t really think that’s still—”

“I do.”

“Wait,” He pulled you to a stop and turned you toward him. “Explain.”

“You have over 50 million subscribers, and are one of the top boybands in the world. You go live, you might be able to help us figure out how many people are still out there. It might connect you guys back to your family. To the family of the staff. We might be able to get help with making our boat defensible, or we might be able to meet up with a naval vessel that has been unaffected. It’s a long shot, but any sort of chance is a chance we should take, right?”

His eyes widened, and he looked troubled, but he nodded. “Okay. Alright. But you should join us in the video as a proper translator.”

“No, you’ll be fine, we can write out a message for Namjoon to read or something. We can plan things out, what you guys say and all of that. If there are other people out there, members of army, maybe they could use a familiar face.”

He still held you in place. “Okay. Let me change.”

You nodded. “I’ll wait outside.”

He nodded, but didn’t let go. “Hey, y/n?”

“Yes?”

He smiled softly. “If we were destined to get stuck on this cruise ship, I’m glad destiny chose you to be here too.”

Your heart was pounding in your ears, and you felt too warm all over and you spluttered something out and darted out the door as your brain went into a complete meltdown.

“Playboy!” You mind screamed.

“Honeyboy!” Your fangirl screamed.

“BREATHE!” Your lungs shouted as you wheezed and slid down the wall of the hallway.

He came out a few minutes later, and looked at you slightly confused. “Um, why are you sitting on the floor? Did I take that long?”

“Nah, I’m just, you know, meditating,” You refused to meet his eyes because if you did you would start your freakout all over again. Stupid fangirl. It was the zombie apocalypse and all your brain was telling you was that he was glad you were there and he was looking at you and that he kept getting you alone and talking with you and….

And oh no. Oh no no.

Did he like you?

Zombies. Focus on the zombies.

He was holding your hand again.

Apparently, he’d messaged the other boys and they were already gathered and the staff were there setting things up, and you guessed the translator or Namjoon had told some of the crew what they were doing, because they were helping set up. And they were doing V-Live and YouTube at the same time.

You stayed behind the cameras with a small whiteboard to help when they got stuck and to give them further things to say in English to try and help.

You considered them having at least half a million views encouraging, but you could tell that even the BTS staff were disconcerted at the small number.

Eventually the boys were mostly just talking to continue it and reassure anyone that may be watching that for the moment they were safe, and that they hoped that everyone else was safe as well. That they hoped this would pass soon.

They talked about the food, Jungkook and Taehyung belted out a few bars of different songs at intervals, Hoseok did his best to be bright and hopeful, Seokjin and Jimin jokingly flirted with the camera, Namjoon made faces and cracked a joke or two, and Yoongi talked about the future. Yoongi talked about someday looking back on this, just as we look back, and being able to think of it as a historical event that the world conquered.

They had over four million viewers when they ran out of things to say and decided to end it.

“So, again, these videos are going to be posted as soon as possible, and we hope we can meet up with and help those who may be in similar situations, or maybe those who are trapped can get help through this. Even if we just brought a moment of happiness, we will find fulfillment in that. We love you, and hope to see you all again.”

Jungkook and Jimin were crying shortly after the cameras were off.

Hoseok hugged onto them, which prompted Taehyung to hug them as well.

Seokjin tugged the other two into their impromptu group hug.

You set aside the whiteboard and headed outside, the rain finally gone. It was lighter than before, and the sun was trying to peek through again. Not quite successful yet, but every here and there you could spot a beam of sunlight breaking through.

The waves were still pretty intense, but not as bad as they could have been given the storm.

And there were gulls.

Which meant the boat was close enough to a land mass that the birds could fly out.

You hurried up to the bridge, not bothering to ask permission. “How far are we from land?”

“Well, we’ve slowed down and drifted slightly off course, which may be a good thing, since that creature crawled aboard, but,” Cob gestured to the maps he was using. “According to radar and such, we should be able to see the island in about half an hour.”

“But if the zombie came from there, we could be in trouble.”

He grunted.

You sighed, staring out at the turbulent waters. “The island could only be so big, though, which means that if they did come from there, there couldn’t have been too many people there to begin with. Right?”

“Unless it came from one of the ships we were going to be meeting up with.”

“Are we going to die?”

“Not if I have any say in it.”

“Okay. Then we’ll circle around, do our best to fortify and defend the ship, and hope for the best.” You bit your lip. “Right?”

Cob placed an arm around your shoulders. “Take heart, lass. Do something fun, would you? It’s not the end of the world yet, and there’s plenty of daylight to be had. Why don’t you see if that cat-boy wants to go to the bush-whacked deck and splash some paint around. You can take the others there some other time, but he seems to help you lighten up.”

You were a little busy trying not to die from Cob calling Yoongi a cat-boy. “Yoongi. His name is Yoongi.”

“Right. Couldn’t recall. Lots of names to remember. But he reminded me of a cat. Not in a bad way—”

“I’m going to go paint in the bushwhack deck. Don’t expect anything pretty.”

“I don’t,” He laughed happily.

You weren’t sure you wanted to try and find Yoongi, so you resolved to go change into clothes you could paint in first.

“Hey.”

You jumped, squeaked, and lashed out—nearly missing Yoongi.

He looked at you with wide eyes, just sort of blinking while you processed everything that just happened.

“Hi. Sorry. Hi.” You covered your heart to make sure it was still inside of you.

“Where you off to?”

“Um, you know the deck that’s off-limits?”

He nodded, looking a little wary.

“That’s because it’s under renovation. So, the crew goes there to vent and get away from everyone else. So, I’m going to change into clothes that I don’t mind getting paint on, and I’m going to go have fun splashing paint on everything.”

“Ah.”

“Would you like to come with me?”

He glanced over to where the others were still gathered, contemplating it. “Just me.”

“You can tell them to sneak down at a later time.”

He nodded slowly, then more vigorously. “Okay. I’ll meet you down there in ten, and tell them to come down in an hour or something?”

“That works.” You smiled a bit. “See you there.”

He nodded again, leaned in and kissed your cheek, and then walked back toward the others.

Your brain short-circuited as you hurried to your room to change and go down to the deck to pull out the paint and brushes.

Yoongi didn’t say anything as he joined you, simply helped move the paints into the room you wanted to paint in. It was one of the rooms with windows, so it had some natural light. But it also still had a bed in it, so you had to cover that with the plastic tarps.

But Yoongi stopped you. “You rushed up to talk to the captain. What scared you?”

You shrugged slightly. “The seagulls.”

His eyebrows drew together. “Birds scare you?”

“The fact that they can only go so far from land without dying does,” You elaborated. “I just wanted to see if it was a fluke from a storm.”

“And?”

“We’re nearing the island. It will be visible in about an hour at the speed we’re going, which is the slowest speed possible.”

He nodded. “So the zombie may have come from there.”

“Possibly,” You whispered.

He swore, closing his eyes as he pulled you into a hug.

You froze for a moment, then relaxed into the hug, wrapping your arms around him as well.

“You wouldn’t be some insignificant side character, y/n,” He whispered. “You’d be the main character.”

“Yeah right,” You choked out.

He held you tighter. “You would. You definitely would. That would be the only way the movie would have any plot.”

He drew back, resting a hand on your cheek. “I would love to be your romantic interest in the movie too.”

“We’re facing the end of humanity.”

“Which is why it’s important,” He answered easily. “Which is why I want to tell you that I was interested in you from the day we met you on the docks. You’re intelligent, beautiful, and strong. Stronger than me, stronger than most people on this ship. Do you object to me being interested in you? The world has gone to hell, people won’t need a boyband when this is over. They’ll need farmers, builders, engineers, and families.”

“Families,” You repeated quietly.

He nodded, taking your hands. “Families. I can never leave the other boys, they’re my family, especially if my actual relatives….”

“I understand.”

“But…maybe we can live somewhere together. Near each other, but separated.”

“You understand I used to be an Army?” You double-checked.

He grinned, laughing. “Yeah. I knew it when you laughed at one of the jokes. Usually only army’s understand it. I think it’s sort of fitting.”

“I’ve got a concussion and I’m having a weird dream,” You said, closing your eyes because that was the only logical explanation.

Except he kissed you.

And dang was he a good kisser.

“GET AWAY FROM HER!”

You jumped, turning toward your fuming ex-boyfriend. “Oh my God, go away!”

“Take your hands off of my girl!” He bellowed at Yoongi.

YOongi frowned and pulled you closer. “What is he holding?”

You glanced down and realized it was some sort of pill bottle. “Oh my God…tell me those aren’t from—”

“It’s all a hoax, you’re doing this to try and torment me, right? I’ll prove my love for you is stronger than anything.”

“Don’t! Please don’t!” You started toward him, but it was too late.

You watched in horror as he downed several pills.

“There, see! I’m fine! It’s all a hoax so that these terrorists can take over!”

You choked a little. “You need to get those out of your system—now! Even if they don’t turn you, that’s enough to overdose!”

“I told you! I’m fine!” He yelled, but his voice had already started changing.

“We need to get out of here before he changes,” Yoongi whispered. “Windows?”

“Only if you want to go swimming,” You replied. “Grab the chair and throw it at him.”

“Uh….”

“Do it!” You ordered, hurrying to a paint can.

Your ex made an ungodly noise as the chair hit him and you were quick to follow, swinging the full paint can at his head with as much velocity as you could muster.

Yoongi grabbed your hand and both of you started sprinting away. “What do we do? If he goes up, he could run into any number of people?”

“We have to take care of it before he can fully change. We need a way to cut off his head.”

“I don’t suppose he’d hold still while we used a saw?”

“Probably not,” You answered, looking around as the two of you ran. Finally you spotted something useful. “Break in case of emergencies, right?”

Your ex made that ungodly screeching noise again, and his footsteps were unnaturally fast as they beat the ground behind you and Yoongi.

Yoongi hurried ahead and broke open the case with something he must have picked up, grabbing the ax.

You stopped to throw a piece of furniture in the zombie’s path, hoping it would slow him down or trip him up or anything that might give you the advantage.

The two of you darted upstairs after doing your best to block the door.

Then you took the ax. “Sound the alarm.”

He grabbed the handle of the ax. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Leading him away from the crowd. We don’t have time to debate—”

He took it and started running. “Sound the alarm. He’s focused on me.”

You looked after him in horror, then quickly started running toward the nearest place you could trigger an alarm, ducking into a room so that the zombie wouldn’t see you, holding your breath.

Finally, you could hear it going after Yoongi.

You signaled the bridge then hurried after them, looking for anything that would help along the way.

Only to see Yoongi barely holding the zombie off, even in the bright sunlight.

You went barreling into it, all while your mind screamed at you and tried to tell you to stop.

Or maybe that was Yoongi.

But it gave Yoongi the space and time to swing the ax, catching the zombie’s neck and knocking it back.

You grabbed a lifebuoy and pushed it over his head, trapping his arms. “Finish him!”

And Yoongi did, though you both stared in horror at the by-product of your battle.

You met his gaze, swallowing hard. “Is this a dream?”

He reached out and pulled you away from the body. “We need to wash the blood off. Come on.”

You were shaking all over, so it was a miracle you managed to walk without tripping.

Dobby and the others hosed both of you down, making sure the water sprayed straight off the deck, then went to clean things while the Bangtan staff brought both of you towels.

“How did that get onto the ship in broad daylight?” Cob asked, hurrying up.

You looked up at him. “It was Charlie.”

“Charlie let it get on the ship?”

“No,” You answered, confused. “That thing…was Charlie. He had pills. Pills from Biogene.”

“You should have let me throw him overboard,” He muttered, petting your head, and then physically maneuvering Yoongi to check him over. “Good. You look unhurt. Wouldn’t want to cut your head off too.”

Yoongi was just a little stunned.

“Get them out of this wind!” Lori huffed, glaring at everyone and then ushering the two of you inside and out of the wind. “You need to get into dry clothing, come on. You, you’re one of his brothers?”

The boys all froze.

She gently shoved Yoongi toward them. “Make sure he gets changed and tuck him in. Marta! Get soup to both rooms.”

You didn’t object to her manhandling, just accepting it because Lori could take you if she put her mind to it, and she was right there ready to take you.

She bundled you in blankets after helping you change into dry clothing, scolded Marta for taking so long bringing the soup, and she force-fed you the soup.

When she had done that, you knew it was time to push a bit.

“I need to go talk to him,” You whispered, ignoring the trembling of your hands and the comforting call of your bed.

Lori looked you in the eye, evaluating you, then nodded. “Let me fix your hair.”

You nodded and let her work, not even checking her work before you and your blanket wrap were heading to Yoongi’s room.

His door was open, and the others were there, but he saw you, and he pushed himself up.

The others glanced over to see what had caught his attention, then seemed to all find an excuse to leave the two of you alone.

You wandered over to the bed as the boys left.

Yoongi looked up at you, eyes sad. “Are you okay?”

You shrugged, slowly sitting on the edge of the bed. “I now know that my instincts to survive are strong enough to kill someone that I know once they’ve turned. So…I’m dealing with that.”

He shuddered and reached out, pulling you down into his arms. “We did what was necessary for the survival of everyone else on this ship.”

“How many friends are we going to lose because of all of this?”

He shook his head. “Let’s not go there.”

You turned your head into his shoulder, fighting back the tears. You had to separate moments out by mere seconds: him kissing you, a moment, and then your ex turning into a zombie. There was a moment in there, that you wished you could imagine was longer.

His fingers stroked your hair lightly, then rested on your back. “But you know…I think we’re going to be just fine. We definitely need more weapons, but I think we’ll make it.”

“You know something I don’t?”

He nodded. “While we were downstairs, a naval vessel contacted the captain. They’re about a day away from us.”

“They know the zombies can swim?”

“They do. And they’ve checked all quarters and removed all Biogene products. They had a small issue at the beginning, but they’ve got it under control now. They’re going to meet with us, and we’re going to work together. They had some civilians that they rescued, and not enough beds, so we’ll take some of their civilians, and perhaps some of their soldiers.”

“And the government?”

“It’s…sort of functioning. Multiple ones are functioning on a…mild capacity. Enough to try and organize their military to reclaim lands.”

“So, where are we being escorted?”

“I don’t know. That’s about all the information that was received, I guess. I’m sure we’ll find out more when we meet up. But…it’s good, right? That we’re able to meet up with a naval vessel?”

You nodded. “As long as we don’t get overrun by zombies tonight.”

“What a bright side,” He chuckled, lightly stroking your back. “Y/n.”

You relaxed at the gentle tone in which he said your name.

“Whatever happens, let’s make it through this together? I don’t have too many skills that are usable outside of music, but I’ll do whatever it takes to take care of you?”

You peeked up at him. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’m sure. I might be relying on you, though.”

You wrapped your arms around him. “That’s fine. I can handle that. If you’re okay with me falling apart now and than.”

“I’ll try and hold you together,” He replied, squeezing you. “We’ve got a couple hours of daylight. Want to nap?”

You pushed yourself fully onto the bed and let him help you under the covers. “Yeah, okay. I could sleep.”

He smiled, taking your hand as you both lay on your sides, facing one another. “Sweet dreams, y/n.”

“Sweet dreams,” You whispered back, still studying him with your eyes half-closed.

If you could make it to safety, then spending your life with him would be great. Better than great.

“Don’t let the zombies bite,” He murmured, smiling slightly at the teasing, and the way you swatted him.

Then you let the subtle sway of the ship rock you into sleep next to the man you just might love.

[caffeinated-cryptid]

bishop to castle; check.

3.8k words | AO3 link | tags/warnings: suicidal behaviour, risk of falling from a height, talking someone down from a ledge, hurt/comfort, platonic roceit, positive ending.

“After weeks of moping post-POF, Janus goes into the imagination to find Roman. They end up having a much more intense conversation than he could have ever planned for.”

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

Janus hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Roman since their last argument. It was fine, probably, he justified to himself, despite how Patton had returned from their talk with pursed lips and worriedly furrowed eyebrows. He likely just needed time to process everything that had happened, and Janus wasn’t going to push that. 

(His reluctance to address the issue had nothing to do with the fact that he dreaded another confrontation. Totally not.)

After all, forcing his presence on Roman now could potentially only make things worse. So instead he would just have to wait for him to come around first-- to calm down enough to be willing to hear him out without resorting to name-calling.

Janus was plenty busy anyway, what with his new position in Thomas’ life. More than smoothing over one less-than-steller relationship with a side (which Janus was collecting like pokemon cards recently, it seemed), he elected to focus on ensuring Thomas held true to his promises of self-care, which meant working with Patton more often.

That wasn’t so terrible, at least it wasn’t as bad as the him from a year ago would have expected; the side was trying harder to welcome his contributions which he appreciated. Though inadvertantly through this new partnership, he found himself being dragged into more casual hang-outs, where they would do nothing but...chat. Sharing daily anecdotes and worries and secrets about themselves. It was strangely open and the sort of thing Janus had to adjust to, but with this new friendship he had found himself in, he did his best not to ruin it.

“I’m getting worried.” Patton admitted one day, setting down the tv remote after a finished screening of some Air Bud spinoff. How Janus had been wrangled into watching that ceaseless dog series was beyond him. “I think the others might be starting to come around to you, but Roman...”

Patton didn’t need to finish his sentence, because Janus already knew what he meant. With Virgil and Logan, he’d been making an effort to try to prove his worth as a member of the team (whether or not that was working was yet to be seen, despite Patton's generous assertions that it would all work out eventually), but he hadn’t even gotten the chance do to that with the creative side. As much as he had first assumed that time and space would do the trick, it seemed like that wasn’t the case after all.

 “I suppose a confrontation is inevitable.” He grimaced, knowing that this had been put off for long enough.

“Would you do that?” Patton asked suddenly, looking to him with relief. It made Janus realize that it sounded like he had signed up to go talk to Roman himself.

“Uh...” Janus tensed, his previous concerns surfacing again. “I don’t think I would be the best suited to have this conversation-”

“Oh- Pleeease? You two need to talk most of all! Besides, when I went, he wouldn’t even...” Patton trailed off, biting his lip with a pout. “...Could you try, at least? Maybe you could get through to him.”

“...Alright. I’ll go before lunch.” Janus agreed begrudgingly, rewarded by Patton’s grateful smile. Stupid puppy face. That would have to stop working eventually.

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

That was how Janus found himself in the lawless lands of The Imagination.

It had filled him with dread, knocking on the red and gold door and recieving no response. Even more so when he risked intruding anyway and seeing the wrecked state of the room, and then noticing the entrance to The Imagination wide open.

Unsurprisingly, that was where he found the side in question. More surprising was when he did, finding him sitting on the edge of the tallest turret of his castle, like he had decided to overlook his kingdom in the most dangerous way possible. Janus wasn’t so naive to assume that was all it was though.

Roman probably saw him approach as he ran the rest of the way to the castle, and that pushed him to go faster, dashing through the lonely walls of the old building until he was climbing up those spiralling stairs all the way to the top. When he finally made it, he stood there doubled over and completely out of breath as he adjusted to the high altitude winds that bit at his cheeks. He used the seconds he took to catch his bearings to figure out what to do-- his eyes never once leaving Roman’s back, who luckily hadn’t moved at all during his frantic dash. Perhaps his insticts had been wrong and there was nothing dangerous going on here. Every part of him screamed to stay and stop whatever this was though-- so he did.

“Roman.” He ended up saying once his breath had evened out, and nothing more. There was too much going on in his head to break whatever balance they currently had; too much to ask, too much to say, to explain, to defend, to try to understand.

Said side turned his head slightly to make eye-contact; not facing him, yet it was acknowledgement at least. “Deceit.” He said after a beat. His voice was cold, but not angry, and for some reason Janus would have prefered it if Roman were upset with him. Anything but this odd indifference that made him feel guilty for not summoning up the courage to check in sooner.

“Janus.” Janus corrected in an invitation to use his name. He intended it as a sign of goodwill, but Roman’s face twitched and he looked away again, this time his focus on the ground directly below.

“I came to talk.” Janus said in an attempt at a distraction. He was disheartened when Roman made no move to acknowledge him again, so he continued despite his uneasiness. "Would you please come down?”

“What? Scared, Deceit? I'm not doing anything. I'm not going to either, so you can go back to whoever sent you and tell them I’m fine.” Roman scoffed and the string of lies felt bitter in the fridgid air, enveloping him like an unwanted hug. If possible, Janus’ heart begun racing even quicker.

He wanted to protest and say that he had come of his own volition, but Janus knew that lying right now wouldn’t do either of them any good. “In that case, would you do it for my peace of mind?” He tried instead, and it earned him a wry smile, sent from over Roman’s shoulder.

“What ever gave you the impression I care about that?” Roman shot back, standing up only to turn on his heel to step down into the crenel next to him, then back up onto the the next merlon. He continued, going up and down and slowly circling around Janus like a predator would it's prey, but somehow he didn't feel like the one being hunted here. Actually, it was more like he was trying to convince a mouse that the cheese on a trap wasn't worth it. And being a snake himself, that simile was especially ironic.

“...That’s fair. We can talk like this, then. I wanted to apologize and hopefully make amends.”

Roman’s footing twisted haphazardly and Janus all but shot forward to steady him until he was given a deadly glare that froze him in his tracks.

“Stay back! You're not fooling me again. As far as I know, you'll just try to convince me to take a swan dive right of the side of this tower. No greater depth to plummet to than that, huh?"

“I- that's the complete opposite of what I want.” Janus stressfully replied, fighting against the urge to pull Roman off of the edge and end this whole thing himself, instead holding up his hands as a sign that he wouldn’t come closer. God, where had he gone so wrong go end up in this situation? He should have convinced Patton to come with him when he had the chance-- at least he probably would have had a better idea on how to get through to Roman when he was like this. Comparitively, Janus had no clue. He didn’t have the trustworthiness or the years of friendship.

“I believe you. You've already made it so clear just how much you care.” Roman replied sarcastically. Janus felt his hackles rising.

“I’m not lying! I didn't want any of this.” Janus gestured around. “There's so much I wish I could take back, but especially whatever I did to cause this.”

“Oh, Janus.” He felt a small dose of hope when Roman finally used his name, which was quickly dashed as he huffed out a laugh. “Always thinking you have a finger in every pie. Isn't it enough for me to come to this conclusion by myself?”

He continued bitterly, practically stomping his way around the edge of the tower now. “It's not like it was hard. Even an idiotic egomaniac prince like myself can tell when he's not wanted anymore. When the dream has died.”

Janus, despite the silver tongue he may possess, struggled for words in the face of Roman’s insecurity. He had wanted the anger because he had assumed it would be easier to prove that he wasn’t as evil as Roman was so keen to accuse him of being. He just hadn’t expected this issue to be so deeply sensitive. (Though perhaps he should have picked up on that hint when he saw the other side looking ready to jump to a temporary death). “Thats not true at all, you’re incredibly important and all of us need you. Perhaps we’re operating under new rules now, but that doesn’t mean you’re not wanted.”

But it seemed that wasn’t the best thing to say. Roman stopped in his tracks, his expression unreadable as he began shaking with fury or perhaps something else. “...If I’m ‘so important’, why does it never feel that way? Why am I the only one who has to change constantly for rules that can never stay the same? Why do I have to make sacrifices and tone down my voice?”

His controlled tone got louder and more stressed. “Why are my best efforts never good enough? Why are my doubts ignored? Why is it considered fair to disparage my work? To ignore the blood, sweat, and tears I put into everything?”

Janus stared in horror as Roman kept going, yelling over anything he could have possibly wanted to say.

“Why does it take this to be be fucking noticed?!”

Both of them paused when his rant reached a screaming crescendo and fat angry tears rolled down Roman's cheeks.

"...Forgive me if I'm having a little difficulty trusting what you say right now.” He sniffed, ducking his head away to wipe his eyes. The words were distant despite the soft way they were uttered.

Once again Janus was lost for what to say as he watched Roman compose himself. There was simply too much there to unpack, too many years of built-up stress and resentment. What in the absolute hell had these sides been doing all this time? “...I do wish to take some responsibility for that, though. Your hesitancy to trust again.” That seemed like a good place to start, if any.

Roman only snorted humourlessly at his efforts though, voice tired and unenthused. “I'm sure you would. It's a lot easier to sweep aside a broken vase rather than acknowledge its cracks when they’re forming, after all. That was the lesson you taught us, right?”

Janus winced at the callback to his first appearence to Thomas. He didn’t necessarily regret that day, but having it thrown back now made it feel like something to be ashamed of; seeing his lessons interpreted in such a way. “...Is that how you see yourself? Broken?” He asked instead, squashing down his indignation.

He only got silence in return. Janus swallowed, definitely regretting his hesitance to resolve this issue now.

“Roman, even though I doubt you’d trust my words, I promise that we're not trying to simply ‘sweep this aside’. If we're going with the vase metaphor, all of us want a chance to try to glue the pieces back together. Make right on all of the ways you’ve been wronged.” When that got no response, he tentatively asked, “Have you ever heard of Kintsugi?"

“...Broken pottery fixed with gold, I'm aware. But trying to apply that right now is sloppy, even for you. People are never so beautiful after being so thoroughly broken, nor is it that easy." Slowly, Roman sat down on the edge, and even though his legs were dangling over the wrong side, Janus' heart finally felt some semblance of rest. He took a step forward.

"I disagree. Kinstugi is rarely an straight-forward process either, and yet it achieves such splendid results with just a little patience and care. Which is to say... while it may not be the easiest thing to do, there’s undeniably beauty and strenght in survival. Trying again even when it feels impossible.”

“Of course you'd think that, Mr. Kill or be killed. You have no choice in whether you get to continue forward. But I do.”

Janus paused at that, only four paces away from Roman now. The creative side startled when he peered backwards and saw him so close, and then he glared at Janus as he stood up again, this time facing him fully. His foot slid backwards until the worn-down structure crumbled under his heel, sending rocks tumbling down below. It was a warning, Janus realized as his blood frooze in his veins.

“Don’t look so shocked. I control everything here, or did you forget?” Roman smiled. It wasn’t a happy smile or even a smug one; it only looked like he was stretching his mouth unnaturally, all pretenses of putting on a convincing performance stripped away. “If I want, I could have a Pegasus fly by and save me at the right moment. Or I could expand the moat to catch me. Or..."

Roman looked frustrated for a second when he couldn't think of anything else, even more so when Janus patiently waited for him to think of another example. In the end, he gave up.

"The point is, I call the shots about what happens to me."

"But would you? Save yourself?" Janus questioned hesitantly. He knew he was treading on thin ice, so he left it there. Roman raised an eyebrow at him and he returned it, making it clear that he wanted an answer. He recieved it with a scoff.

“Of course I would. What kind of question is that?”

Lie.

Janus winced. “Roman... You are aware of my ability to detect lies, yes?”

The creative side blinked in surprise and then looked at him with wide eyes, as if he hadn’t expected to be called out. Like it had been so natural to brush aside the question that he didn’t even realize his own feelings. Fortunately, Janus’ ability was too keen to be fooled by one’s own self-deception. He could see below the surface like that; pull people’s hidden truths from them and keep them for himself, like a keeper of forbidden knowledge (Though in moments like these, sometimes he wished he couldn’t. Ignorance truly is bliss).

“Should I ask again?” He pressed. “Are you really planning on saving yourself?”

This time Roman’s face screwed up in confliction and he directed his gaze to the floor of the tower. It was an awfully clinical way to ask, but it felt necessary to stop dancing around what was important-- this casual show of self-destruction.

Eventually, the other cracked with a tired huff of laughter. Sadly genuine this time.

“...It's certainly nice to think that I could.” Roman admitted as he rubbed his face, apparently not mad at being called out this time. “Finally being a hero again, even if it's only to myself.”

Janus paused in shock. Was he still misinterpreting that moment?

“That wasn't a lie.” Janus blurted out, taking even himself by surprise by the thoughtless exclamation. “Thomas still thinks of you as his hero. There’s no need to do things like this to prove it.”

Romans eyes went watery and he avoided his gaze.

“At this point I don't think it matters, when I haven’t been acting like it at all lately.” He whispered coarsely, uncharacteristically quiet compared to the wind. “Frankly, I'm surprised you're even trying to stop me."

Janus eyes softened and he took another tentative step forward, then another when Roman didn't react badly. “Why wouldn’t I? I’m not just Deceit, you know. Part of my job is to help you.”

“...Because you hate me? At this point you have more reasons to than not.” Roman explained warily, looking at him like Janus were seconds away from snapping and shoving him over the edge. It hurt to have that sort of mistrust placed on him, but at the same time Janus understood it. He had often been in that sort of situation before; doubting the safety of opening up to other people. That was just part of his job, to be doubtful and wary in order to protect the self. Yet to see it so openly on somebody else felt like a punch to the gut, even though he should have been used to that feeling of being distrusted by now.

“Do you think me so sensitive that a schoolyard insult would make you my archenemy? Or being called evil? That is...sort of what I’ve been going for.” He cracked a joke, gesturing to his outfit. When Roman kept staring at him he sighed. “Of course I don’t hate you, Roman.”

Roman shifted doubtfully. “That doesn’t mean you like me, either. Maybe it doesn’t mean much to you, but you should know how- how being called that hurt me.”

"...Yes.” It was Janus’ turn to be uncomfortable. “Perhaps at first I felt attacked and wanted to make you feel the same hurt, but I would never have said that had I known just how deeply it would have impacted you. I’m sorry for that.”

Roman’s expression turned incredulous, like he couldn’t believe Janus had apologized. “...You know, I wanted to make you upset. I wanted you gone.”

“I figured.” Janus nodded.

“And that doesn’t change anything? Even though I acted so...” Roman bit his lip. “So unheroic?”

Janus stifled a sigh. By now, he really hated that word with a passion. It had caused so many high standards, so many instances of self-sacrifice, so many misguided attempts at selflessness and perfection. Perhaps later they could talk about it all and lay out why it had done so much harm, but for now he decided not to push it, not when he felt so close to getting a breakthrough.

“Believe it or not, but I think that you've been plenty heroic already. This whole time you've been fighting for something you thought was valient and noble, and that means something, even if it was for a misguided cause.”

That took Roman off-guard. He moved his foot away from the edge subtley, and had Janus not been focused on his face, he would have considered it a small victory.

“...What’s the point of all of this, really? Is this some... some dastardly plot?” Roman questioned skeptically. He was looking even more cornered now that he was letting Janus’ words sink in.

“All I'm here for is to offer the helping hand you need, if you’ll accept it.” Janus said softly as he extended his hand up to him. “Really, my only plot right now is to get you off that ledge before you give me a heart attack. Please?”

Roman stared at him, desperately trying to find some sort of mistruth in his eyes before his gaze lowered to the outsretched hand. It felt like time slowed in the seconds he was making his decision and Janus held his breath, waiting...wating... until finally the other side nodded and took his hand.

With Janus’ help, Roman stepped down, looking confused and lost now that he was away from the edge. The expression pained Janus’ heart, so he opened his arms half expecting rejection, only to be taken back by how quickly Roman latched onto him. Janus wasted no time clinging back, so relieved that he actually suceeded that he didn't want to risk ever letting go, like this moment could be torn away at any second. It was no surprise when he felt the other’s chest jerk with held-back sobs until there was a wetness on his shoulder, and he didn't say anything about it. He didn't need to either, because Roman spoke up first.

“It didn’t mean anything. Really!” He exclaimed through messy tears. “I was only thinking about it!”

Lie.

“...It's okay if it was more than that.” Janus soothed, patting his back. “It's okay to feel low and in need of help.”

That made him cry harder and Janus was relieved to see the excess of emotions finally pour out. While waiting for Roman to calm down, he had to fight for his own tears to not spill over. Inevitably, the stress of the situation finally caught up when the adrenaline wore off, and he sagged into the hug, sniffling quietly and trying not to fall over on his aching legs. He really just sprinted up multiple flights of stairs, didn’t he? Belatedly, he realized that he must have lost his hat at some point during the journey because he could feel the wind tousle his hair.

It would have been funny if it weren’t for the absolute rush of emotions he had just gone through.

The two of them stood there for what would normally be considered an awkward amount of time, except the act of simply hugging on solid ground was the biggest comfort in the world, too much to ruin the moment. They waited until they got through the worst of their tears before they dared speak again. Once again, Roman went first.

“Sorry for laughing at you back then.” He said, voice reflecting the yelling and crying he'd been doing. It felt genuine. “I actually really like your name...the mythology suits you. Very dramatic.” 

Janus laughed wetly, finally a true statement. “Why, thank you. And I apologize for where I’ve wronged you.”

Finally, they straightened up. Roman took one look at him and summoned hankerchiefs for them both. Janus accepted it and wiped away his tears as gracefully as he could.

“Hopefully we can have a more in-depth discussion on this later, but for now Patton and I prepared lunch, if you’d be willing to have us.” Janus asked, hopes raised.

“...That sounds good.” Roman smiled.

Janus smiled back.

Together, the two of them descended down the steps of the tower, and the imagination was the slightest bit sunnier when they reached the outside.

[jp-owl]

a little more real every day

I’m now almost a real person in norway. the steps to getting into the system are numerous and never posted in order anywhere that i’ve seen.

your employer can get you a tax ID before you get there, but after you’re granted a temporary residence paper. then you need a D-number. to get your ID ordered and your official D-number, you have to go to a police station in Norway and hopefully skip all the steps that you did in your not-in-Norway interview. Just bring your passport and try not to look too dead for your new ID photo. Your d-number is NOT written anywhere. It’s like your social security number. Don’t give it to anyone... except every institution that demands it from here on out. Once you have a D-Number And a Tax ID, you can get a bank account. You will see this “Login with Bank ID” everywhere. You cannot use it yet. With your new shiny bank account, go back to the bank IRL and ask for a Bank ID.  They’ll set you up once they look at your passport and make sure all the previous info is real. Now and only now can you  do shit the easy way. Like use Norwegian venmo (VIPPS), log into the healthcare system, log into the mental healthcare system, log into your workstation (unless you have creative workarounds and savvy tech helpers), etc. it took 9 months to get a d-number, 5 days for a tax ID (once i knew i needed one), 15 minutes each at the bank to get a bank acct, code brick, and bank ID.

there a tonne of steps to actually get to the job that brought you on this journey, but i’ll post those on demand.

so now, now I can get real mental healthcare. which you need a GP for a referral. but no GPs in my city are taking new patients. so the Emergency room is my doctor until I can get a GP. But they can refer me to a mental health person just like the GP and dispense a fair amount of meds/renew prescriptions. After spending $200, my deductible will be paid and my healthcare will be covered gratis.

i need this mental healthcare. i still feel like my soul got ripped out. i am so grateful that it’s gonna get easier (physically... i still mostly want the light at the end of the tunnel to be a train). but man this process is not a great one for someone who’s already had a constant anxiety episode for like four months. now, NOW, i can get little bits of relief with meds. but the work. oh the work is coming.

the times i feel okay are when I’m actually training, teaching (some exceptions), sleeping, or running. it’s weird to think that my mental health got so bad that i trained up to a half marathon. some people harm themselves with razors. i do it in running shoes. i have not let my bad brains lead me down pathways of planning, rest assured. my cognitive load is just too damn high and i am overwhelmed all the time the only thing makes it all STOP is running until I can taste blood or juggling or doing something absorbing that i can’t do or think anything else.

[thelegendofstella]

Sephiroth’s true eye color (among other things)

Ever since I got into FF7 stuff I’ve wondered about Sephiroth’s rather inconsistent eye color over the media he’s appeared in (which is a lot), and I think I finally have an answer for it, as well as answers for other slightly unexplained phenomena. Warning you now, this will be fairly long and full of spoilers for multiple games in the series, yet hopefully informative.

Sephiroth is best known for his green, cat-pupiled eyes, among other things, and that’s generally the accepted eye color for him in fan works and such. But his eyes are actually light blue, and not just mainly in spinoffs. There will be a TL;DR in about the middle of the post for one interesting point, and another at the end for the whole post in general.

Disclaimer: This isn't intended to be a "this is the right way to portray Sephiroth's eye color" gatekeeping thing, this is just an analysis of an element of character design that went way too deep and is breaking Tumblr as we speak hfsdgyfudgfsd

Evidence, theories and such under cut-- all 63 images (yes, you heard me, be warned) either come from various wikis as official art/screenshots/etc. or are my own screenshots:

In Final Fantasy 7, where this mess all started, his iconic official art has green eyes:

But in all other art, models, etc. for the game, even the Ultimania scan, his eyes are light blue (or some sort of blue in general):

Of course, you could argue that Sephiroth’s official art also has blue eyes if you stare at it hard enough, but at first glance it’s more green than blue, and with the amount of green-eyed art I’ve seen, I’m sure many people have just accepted that his eyes are green and nothing more.

Several other games in the main series also portray Sephiroth’s eyes as light blue, sometimes borderline colorless depending on the lighting:

I particularly curse Advent Children for it’s washed-out aesthetic because in the darker scenes it completely masks Sephiroth’s real eye color. Thank the gods for HD screenshots.

However, there is a very interesting phenomenon that only seems to happen in Last Order, the 25-minute animated retelling of the Nibelheim Incident and Zack and Cloud’s escape 5 years after. No one seems to have noticed this yet, to my knowledge, so I’ll go through this as clearly as I can.

When Zack confronts Sephiroth in the reactor, the latter’s eyes are light blue:

It isn’t very obvious due to the mako glow tint and his face being in shadow, but I’d think green eyes would look different here, so they are light blue. They stay light blue for a while after this, until Zack begins to fight him and parries him onto the ceiling (anime physics...), resulting in this peculiar scene:

Light blue into green. Literally, you can see it happening in the actual video. This happens a second time when Sephiroth has Cloud skewed on Masamune, just more subtly:

Again, light blue into green(er). Definitely something funky going on here. It goes back to light blue when Cloud tosses him away, though:

And speaking of Cloud... he, too, shows very obvious eye color change directly after this scene, as seen below:

In the video they are visibly, animatedly glowing, it’s not just me discerning between two different flat shades of color. Keep in mind this is before he gets mako poisoned and Jenova-celled and whatnot, so this isn’t due to SOLDIER enhancements. What gives?

Here’s my take: it’s the Lifestream. People are made of Lifestream like everything else in in the FF7 universe, and it’s common knowledge that Lifestream/mako can do some pretty weird shenanigans. SOLDIERs are literally pumped full of the stuff and have seemingly superhuman abilities, and that’s just the lower-ranking ones. But the series has also placed a lot of emphasis on willpower, which Cloud post-experimentation struggles with due to the J-cells and stuff. A lot of people with particularly bright or “glowing” eyes have expressed an incredible amount of willpower, some of which include Cloud, Sephiroth (unsurprising), and Aerith:

Aerith’s eyes have always been incredibly bright in the series, regardless of which game you reference. Remake especially makes this obvious, as it seems like every close-up shot of her makes her eyes the centerpiece regardless of lighting, setting, etc.:

Like, seriously, they almost seem to glow they’re so bright. But here’s the kicker: Aerith is a Cetra, and the Cetra, obviously, communicate with the Planet... or, in other words, have an incredibly strong willpower that influences things. It’s been stated before by various people and media that Sephiroth and Aerith are two sides of the same coin, but not quite like this, I think. Cloud shows a similar phenomenon in his close-up shots as well, though the artificial SOLDIER glow is most likely contributing to most of it:

Compare these to younger Cloud in the Nibelheim flashback, when he was more innocent and had no need for incredible willpower, artificial or not:

Going back to Cloud in Last Order, the point we can make about him in particular is that when he was stabbed, literally at death’s door, he drew on his inner Lifestream for the strength to toss Sephiroth away. People have wondered for years about how this moment was even possible besides Protagonist Syndrome, and this may be the answer.

If this is the case, then this could apply to anyone: Aerith, Sephiroth, Zack, hell even Tifa seems to have slightly glowing eyes in the Remake sometimes-- and sure, it may be just the game engine making sure we can actually see their eyes in key cutscenes... but it ties into canon lore and actually makes sense, so I’m sticking with that. It’s also not a coincidence that Aerith specifically has green eyes, too, since the Lifestream in general is green-colored and whatnot.

Midpoint TL;DR: people with lots of inner willpower can call on their own Lifestream to give them strength, resulting in “glowing” or even color-changing eyes depending on how much Lifestream/mako they have in them. SOLDIERs, for example, would fall in the latter category... the most extreme being Sephiroth.

Now that's we're back at Sephiroth, another interesting point is that his eye color in Remake is consistently light blue, or some blue variation depending on the lighting, with green centers, as seen below:

Cloud obviously shares the same eye color pattern by this point because it's implied that he has the same if not slightly more mako in him than Sephiroth, which very conveniently also equates to him having the same if not slightly more willpower than Sephiroth.

An honorable mention goes to the Remnants, since they, too, follow the light blue with green centers pattern, appearing to fluctuate between the two colors at certain times:

With all of that said and done, I’ll wrap this up by going through Sephiroth’s appearances in side games and other franchises as quickly as I can:

1) The Dissidia series (Dissidia, 012/Duodecim, NT, Opera Omnia) almost always portrays Sephiroth with light blue eyes in art, renders, and models, occasionally with a hint of green in them:

A very interesting exception is NT Sephiroth's Safer Sephiroth costume, which has completely white eyes in all three of its alts. Yes, it's basically just a cosmetic costume, but it's still worthy to note for comprehensive purposes:

2) World of Final Fantasy’s Sephiroth has light blue eyes:

3) Record Keeper Sephiroth’s sprites are very obviously based on the original FF7 official art where he has green eyes (yes, I checked the colors by hand, they're all in the greener sections of the color wheel):

4) The Kingdom Hearts series is particularly unique because it features a blue-eyed Sephiroth but with an explicit reason for it. Kingdom Hearts 1 simply says that Sephiroth is part of Cloud’s past, but Kingdom Hearts 2 literally has Cloud saying “I'll get him. This time we settle it. Me, and the one who embodies all the darkness in me.”, and then explicitly clarifying that it’s Sephiroth he’s talking about. Sephiroth even shares Cloud’s facial shape, which is particularly obvious in KH2 renders:

All other Sephiroth appearances in the KH series also feature him with blue eyes, except for any usage of material from other media.

5) Itadaki Street games feature Sephiroth with green eyes:

6) Puzzles and Dragons features a rare teal-eyed Sephiroth:

And finally 7) All other Sephiroth appearances in spinoffs and other media feature him with light blue, blue, or rare teal eyes, except for sprites, which are (most likely) reused from Record Keeper:

And that’s FINALLY a wrap. All my evidence for Sephiroth’s actual eye color in one place, and even a theory on why it can potentially fluctuate between that and the iconic green.

Actual TL;DR: Sephiroth’s eyes are actually light blue in 90% of his appearances, and the remaining 10% either comes from temporary green-ness or partial green-ness thanks to mako/Lifestream stuff, or spinoffs.

There is one small point I’d like to make at the end of this, and that is the remaining mystery of why Sephiroth’s pupils are even slitted and cat-like in the first place. That... is far more ambiguous in terms of evidence than the eye color. Some series, particularly the Kingdom Hearts series, have them as regular round pupils, while others sometimes if not most of the time give him the cat-like ones. I may make another in-depth analysis post trying to figure it all out, but for now I’ll say that it may just simply be a result of the Jenova cells he has or something along those lines.

If you made it this far down and didn’t just instantly scroll past my massive log of images and sundry, thank you so much for reading all of this! If you did just instantly scroll past, I don't blame you. I guess I'm in proper Sephiroth hell now, lol.

I hope you have a great day and that things turn out well for you fhjksdgfyhughuhyudfs

[onewomancitadel]

I have to improve my mood to work on my fic.. does anybody want to share things that make them happy or their favourite stuff about Cinder. Or talk to me about my fic...

This is going to be kind of a scatter shot post so bear with me if it gets kinda un organized.

Man there are soo many ways to write Jaune/Cinder that are utterly fascinating.

Ever since I've been reading your first my mind's just been buzzing with ideas they are so many set ups and ideas that can throw these two together.

I've always liked the idea of this ship but besides smut there's very very few fics that do a genuine attempt with these two

I'm also real sucker for Villans that find Redemption in ways that don't involve dying

Don't mind me here as I list off a crap ton of fic ideas lol hopefully this isn't cringe haha

One way I've been thinking is after losing to Raven, Cinder finds herself rescued by the Arc family (not exactly sure how she'd and up in their area but that can be worked out) she's nursed to health by them, one of the youngest is initially scared by her Grimm arm but is later ecstatic when she realizes she can stretch the arm to do a long distance high five.

she comes to truly care about all of them and confides in Mr and Mrs Arc about what she's done to Jaune and it would end with her going to find him and Ruby and finding her own way to make ammends,

Another idea I've been thinking (hope your not sick of this trope lol) is Cinder (again post Raven fight) yet again on her own and planning revenge on Ruby on her own but encounters a small child on her own in the wilderness Cinder later learns she was used as test subject in Atlas in a attempt to be a weapon for them (in what way I haven't exactly plotted out maybe artificial Maiden? But I guess that's like a redundant Penny? Ah whatever I don't know yet but the idea is there...)

Cinder sympathizes but thinks the only way she can help is if she tries to dump her off with Ruby and Co, she does actually want to help the girl but she's not sure she can actually do anything. The girl begs Cinder not to leave when she does this so Cinder has a sort of temporary truce and stays with the group until the situation is resolved.

Jaune being good with kids bonds with her as well...

Que parenting shenanigans between Jaune and Cinder.

Like damn dude even if this paring doesn't become Cannon they're so many ideas fanfic writers could go for.

I feel like I've said too much here so I'm gonna switch topics and talk about your fic lol

I love the sort of understanding Jaune & Cinder have with each other, they don't really wanna fight anymore and they're beginning to accept that they like each other.

I also like that Jaune isn't nearly as subtle as he thinks he is and everyone thinks he's sleeping with someone haha

Also I love how Salem sorta cuts off her evil speech just to be like "Hi Theodore" like I'm sure it's meant to be taunting in someway I think? (Don't have the chapter in front of me right now can't really check) but I like to imagine it as genuinely joyful like she's mid evil rant but she just bumped into a friend at the supermarket so she's happy now XD

I'm sure that's probably not the intended way to view that scene but, still it's kinda funny.

Also mighty inconvenient timing with Jaune essentially admiting to Nora he might love his mystery friend, only for that Mystery Friend to be Cinder Fall.

I mean Jaune probably knew that would've blown up in his face at some point at that point he was probably just excited to finally talk about her in someway to his friends

Also I didn't interpret that "Being inside Cinder" quote to be anything sexual I thought it was referring to thier souls intertwining or merging due to the bond but low and behold I pop in over here and well..

Dude you must reside in the Sahara Desert cause you seem a little thirsty my dude. XD

Oh and on a final note don't stress about delays seriously I know you have a personal deadline you wanna reach but your chapters are like 10,000 words a pop. The wait is long sure I'll take it if it means the quality doesn't suffer

Dude I've waited far longer for far less don't worry about it, and even if your personal deadline rolls around and you aren't finished the fic, you probably will be close by that time anyway.

I'll just put my reply under a cut. (: First I'll say... you gave me the good fanfic feelings with the Jaune/Cinder parenting shenanigans lol, way to pull at my heartstrings!!!!!!!!! I think iressent is actually working on a similar fic premise so be sure to keep an eye out for that one!

You have some really interesting ideas, and I agree, there is so much potential for the two of them... my hesitance just comes from a place of 'is the story going to make me feel stupid?' and I'll be embarrassed and take all my toys home.

And yeah I mean... if there's one of those prompts you want me to write, say so, but if you want to write them it would be cool to see.

Regarding the second half and my fic: hee hee (: lol no that's exactly what I was going for with Theodore, thank you. Salem gives zero fucks, she is all performance, and she LOVES fucking with people. It's the most fun she has all day. I really subscribe to that 'tired immortal' thread with her. Nobody has surprised her in a long time.

I also like that Jaune isn't nearly as subtle as he thinks he is and everyone thinks he's sleeping with someone haha

Yes this was... very intentional on my part, mostly because I find it unbelievable no one would GUESS, but also because the guessing is probably very right and also wildly incorrect. Yes there is someone in there, no he's not sleeping with her... yes it's Cinder. They didn't quite guess that part. No, no they didn't. His date still turned up for the dance, though. I also like to imagine Jaune being silently tortured thinking about all of the sex they could have had. Bad Jaune. Stop thinking that.

I mean Jaune probably knew that would've blown up in his face at some point at that point he was probably just excited to finally talk about her in someway to his friends

I agree with you here and I think it's a good point. It's partly cathartic for him, and I also wanted to portray why his friends were important (Nora and Ren in particular - with their respective conversations and level of emotional acuity), because they do actually care about him and for one moment he can actually talk about it lol, THEN you get a nice dose of dramatic irony. It's not exactly something he can (yet) talk to Cinder about.

Also I didn't interpret that "Being inside Cinder" quote to be anything sexual I thought it was referring to thier souls intertwining or merging due to the bond but low and behold I pop in over here and well..

It's both, honestly - not sure I would say 'merging' but certainly touching - in my opinion, and if you interpreted it that way to begin with it works and your interpretation is - to use that terrible word - valid. I just think that physical/spiritual intimacy is very intertwined in this story and the same for Cinder - nobody can touch her, but he can.

Dude you must reside in the Sahara Desert cause you seem a little thirsty my dude. XD

Well... yeah... but I also think that physical intimacy/smut in a story does stuff thematically XD and like all good action, it's character-driven... I want them to have intense sex lol. They connect on a fundamental level. And I like their particular sexual dynamic in my head lol.

And thank you so much for the reassurance re: deadlines, I appreciate that a lot. Feeling pretty good about tonight's update, it was very helpful to chat about my fic today! Very very helpful!

Hope you are having a good one and cheers. <3 <3

[neednothavehappenedtobetrue]

okay. this is a post about a new character, who is a person in the same 'verse as the main one for Robert and Isabelle, sci-fi and spaceships. she is a pastor in the one specific "limits on technology" religion I made up, but also, she is very cool. she does not live on their main terraformed colony, she lives in another colony with some definite cultural differences.

I am mostly posting this for my own future reference. there are definitely people who will enjoy Gwendolyn a lot, even with the extensive trigger tag situation here, but I think "a short story that has space for more nuance" would be a better venue for her than "my thoughts from Skype at 4AM"

if you do decide to read this, check the tags first, please

shoutout to @anonymus-maximus-er for being my thought partner on this.

but as I understand it now, there are, like , degrees of Intensity in Church Of Man

like, even their chillest followers are kind of intense about it because it's hard to be real, real chill about "god said we were only allowed to use these specific fifteen technologies" or whatever the exact rules are

but as far as incubators go, Aimee's community, the one you saw, would definitely have been like "well, too bad God wants that baby to die" and there are some other communities which would be more like "okay, probably make sure your baby does not die, do what you've gotta do there, but don't come back and talk to us afterwards"

and also for sure there are communities like "do literally whatever you have to do to make sure your baby does not die, we will be here with whole-made casseroles when you're home again"

and like, could some of those kids have benefitted from subsequent quality-of-life stuff they didn't get? probably, yes

to varying degrees

but hopefully Aimee finds a nice community where she can be like "this is so important to me but my babies and I experienced a bunch of technology in order to not die and we got excommunicated."

and they're like "wow that sounds like a lot of Not Your Fault would you like some whole-made casseroles and toddler clothes?"

and she's like "I got excommunicated" and they're like "did you know, perhaps you didn't, that there is no Central Authority for every Church Of Man church in the galaxy? there for sure is not! the people from New Maryland often pretend they are, but we didn't vote for them! your old pastor is just not at all the boss of us, is the thing"

that is the future epilogue I want for Aimee

I feel like the Tau Ceti Church of Man community is small and some people think they're weird, but they're nice neighbors. their pastor is a woman named Gwendolyn or something who is just constantly mad about Richard Brinton That Fucking Asshole

she has never called him any of those words because of decorum, she has just spent a lot of time talking to new people like "wow you seem very traumatized did you know he is not the boss of us?"

"we don't have a pope!"

"we've tried to have a council a few times, but it's logistically complicated"

"every church is supposed to make its own rules in accordance with the texts"

"yes, I have read every single one of his missives to the world, I know which bits of the Texts you probably have memorized, here are some bits I like a lot"

Gwendolyn has some opinions

like, churches are supposed to set their own rules about "necessary" technologies and she has quietly labeled almost all life-saving medical technology "necessary"

meanwhile, Brinton thinks it's necessary for him to have access to telecommunications equipment to he can send his editorials all over the galaxy, so people can be Educated

huh

of course, he does not actually physically touch the telecommunications equipment, he keeps like four people who know how to use it around so they can spread his word, but also, huh

the thing about Gwendolyn is that she has spent a long time watching traumatized New Marylanders join her community, many of them quite young and quite traumatized

also, she was never a New Marylander, she is fourth-generation Tau Ceti, which, crucially

means that her first set of principles is "Church Stuff, Misc" and her second set of principles, right there after the first is "you're not the boss of me"

even if somebody could point to actual scripture that said they were the boss of her, she would have some trouble with it, but some dude! who cannot point to anything at all! no justification whatsoever! nothing in the texts even a little bit! keeps trying to be the boss of her! and also keeps traumatizing all of the people in his community pretty badly! and making everyone else look like jerks!

"I'm more conservative than you, therefore, I am the boss of you"

NOPE

not for Gwendolyn

Gwendolyn votes in every local election and votes for her Senator, who she has met and quite likes. she occasionally goes to protests when the local government does some dipshit thing, but the Tau Ceti local government is pretty well-behaved because if it's not the citizenry will absolutely be like "fuck you, you're not the boss of me" at its government

she has some Very Big Opinions about debtor employment. she's not thrilled about the like, severity of the gang situation in her city, but she doesn't have a lot of optimism that the Government is gonna fix it, so she does community groups instead

also, in recognition of the fact that she can't just throw these traumatized New Marylanders right off into the personal autonomy deep end she is like "okay, if you need someone to tell you what to do sometimes, I will be the temporary boss of you until you are ready to be the boss of you"

she does not Love that aspect of her job, but sometimes you gotta

you can't bring people from "obedience all the time" to "you must make every choice in your life with no backup" overnight, they'll just collapse in on themselves or become targets for worse people

so she does the thing

she and Brinton have a <very> passive aggressive correspondence going as church leaders

there are many many long letters back and forth

they are very polite and also, if any of them are preserved, historians will find them fascinating

"wow these people just fucking loathed each other"

Anonymus, 5:05 AM

your obedient servant, A. Burr

5:05 AM

if they did not live on separate planets, legitimately maybe

like, if she could get to Brinton's house on a horse to yell at him in person, she would have by now

she didn't swear a lot in real life, but sometimes she wanted to

she got real good at saying "that man" or "sugar" or "nonsense" in A Tone, but you could tell

I can't decide if she has a husband or a wife

Aimee's church definitely thinks gay people are Modern and therefore Wrong, but like

I feel like probably their specific religious texts don't even have that much on being nice to people? like, there's definitely a few pages on like "kindness is an ancient value, we hold fast to ancient values, these are them"

but it's like 70% Rules Minutiae

it's also not a super long book

so everybody has very different opinions about how to interpret the Rules Minutiae in light of the 30% of the book that's like "here are our actual values"

"modesty" and "fidelity" are both in the Ancient Values bits for sure

and I feel like different denominations went in different directions on the "modesty" and "fidelity" implications of "gay people"

no, I've decided, Gwendolyn definitely has a wife

show her in the actual rules where she can't have a wife

yes, fidelity, that thing she has with her wife

Anonymus, 5:13 AM

can the wife be a very proper rebbetzin?

organises all the casserole chains

5:14 AM

yes, she can definitely organize all of the casserole chains

5:18 AM

right

Gwendolyn's wife's name is Tara and she came from an Earth Church of Man community where they were like "technically it's not illegal for you to be gay, but, like, ehhhh? we'd rather you didn't and also you definitely cannot have children if you're gay"

5:20 AM

and she got to Tau Ceti and met Gwendolyn who even in college was like "show me in the texts where it says I cannot have a wife."

"show me."

Anonymus, 5:21 AM

sounds like excellent breeding ground for Very Textually and Theologically Conversant, but not actually a religious authority

5:21 AM

the thing is, Tau Ceti is Bad At Authority

if they had a motto on their coins it would just be "you're not the boss of me" but maybe in Latin

but maybe not even in Latin because people who know Latin often think they are the boss of you

Anonymus, 5:22 AM

WHO MADE U KING

5:22 AM

for real

I think there is a dude who is technically the "boss" of Gwendolyn and they take turns giving the sermons and calibrating which parishoners they support based on like, communication styles in a way that often ends up with just all of the women and queer folks being Gwendolyn's people

she is smarter than him, he handles all of the Local Politics things that require you not to go "EXCUSE me, where is the LAW ABOUT THAT"

Anonymus, 5:24 AM

different type of smart

5:24 AM

if he ever tried to pull rank on her, she would either be so startled that it would work or she would unhinge her jaw and eat him

so he's never tried

he doesn't want to! very few people on Tau Ceti even want to be in charge, both because it's like herding cats who will hate you if they catch you herding them and because the finely honed distrust of authority doesn't go away when you become authority

Anonymus, 5:26 AM

"I'm pretty sure I'm up to some bullshit"

5:27 AM

yeah, Gwendolyn spends a lot of time with these sad transplants from other communities, nearly all of them women (because for SOME REASON women tend to get excommunicated WAY MORE OFTEN. HUH. are there ADDITIONAL RULES for WOMEN? I DON'T SEE ANY)

and they're like "please I am so sad and scared just tell me what to do"

and she wants to be like "I am not the boss of you, you have to be the boss of you" but they often are not ready for that, so she just tries to get a sense of what they want to do or what might be healthiest for them and tells them her strong recommendation is that they do that thing

everyone in her community knows she is passionate and can get fired up about some of this stuff, she doesn't hide that, but also, there are some conversations she (a only has with her wife and also (b has had with her wife a number of times

they are basically "our community is like 55% traumatized exiles from other communities and like 30% traumatized people from This One Dude's Community specifically. he traumatizes women and girls and girls he calls women and gay people and parents with sick babies!"

"we have so so many people we take care of now who are so so shaken and traumatized and sad"

"and we only get the people who don't leave the faith entirely!"

"it's not fair! it's not fair that he gets to do that! it's not fair!"

because when you carry the faces of like twenty good people all traumatized by the same garbage person and all you can do is try to take care of them and send passive-aggressive letters, sometimes it sucks!

if they lived on the same planet and she could get there on a horse, she would have done something ill-advised by now. yelled, certainly

but then again, if she had been born on New Maryland she would be a super different person and if he had been born on Tau Ceti there would have been a hard upper limit on how much he could get anyone to listen to him

like, bad bullshit happens on Tau Ceti, but the first time he married a fourteen-year-old girl off to her rapist, his neighbors would have set him on fire

church of man neighbors, regular neighbors, possibly neighbors who are criminals, just all the neighbors

5:37 AM

so her wife listens to her cry and reads over her letters to Brinton to make sure she doesn't actually say anything Too Impolitic (I think her boss also reads them, but he's less invested)

and her wife has these new folks over for dinner and helps them find clothes for their kids and adapt their modesty rules to the thing where it's like, as hot as it is possible to be in Tau Ceti

5:38 AM

like, most of the summer it's like 120 degrees, on a brisk day in December it drops into like, the low nineties

5:39 AM

sometimes people from other communities are like "we do modesty more modestly than they do" and they have to be like "okay, your choices are us dressing this way or us using air conditioning, because people do die in real life of heatstroke sometimes, that is a thing that can kill you"

also, even before Gwendolyn came along, her previous pastor was definitely like "we're gonna make electric fans permissible. we're just... heatstroke sure does kill you in real life"

"particularly in Modest Dress"

she liked him. they had meetings like twice a month when she was young because she had A Lot of questions and her parents were less invested in the answers than she was

when she was like twelve, he was like "maybe they'll give you my job one day" and she was like "I don't want your job! you're the boss of people!" and he was like "they very much would not give you my job if you wanted my job, kiddo"

(even 50% of the organized crime leaders on Tau Ceti are like "hey, I'm not the boss of anybody, I'm just a guy you don't want to fuck with because of all of the friends that I have got"

"I am not the boss of you, but I do have this gun")

5:49 AM

final thought on Gwendolyn: she had a real hard time when Robert Thompson died, because that dude thought her faith was a good reason to murder a husband and father.

and like, that dude is a fucking asshole, obviously, but it's hard

and then Brinton puts out an editorial about it and it is the only time Gwendolyn and Tara's children ever hear one of their mothers swear

because she is usually super meticulous about that

but also, sometimes

there is a limit

she makes several attempts before she writes him her next letter and the subtext of the entire letter is just "fuck you SO much, I do not generally believe in Hell, however, I will make an exception"

there is a limit! a man is dead and his wife and daughter are grieving and then a dude who everyone thinks is, like, the pope of her puts out some bullshit like "of course we don't do hate crimes but also that dude who got murdered deserved it" bullshit

there is a limit she is past it!

5:53 AM

also, they have seven adopted kids

[girlsluvbot]

MATCHMAKER pt.1

pairing: roseanne park × fem! reader

genre: fluff, angst

about:

matchmaker /ˈmatʃmeɪkə/

noun

a person who arranges marriages or initiates romantic relationships between others.

"an enthusiastic matchmaker who continually tried to pair off the difficult bachelor with unattached ladies"

a/n: i'm back!!! hehe this goddamn thing took so long to write, i both despise and adore it with every fibre of my being. enjoy my blood, sweat and tears in the form of a fic.

You loved your job. Very few people are lucky enough to be able to relate to that statement, and you were thankfully one of them. Hell, not only did you love your job, you were extremely good at it.

Since you were a little kid, writing nas always been your biggest passion. Wether it was writing short stories, poems or essays about the french revolution, you were always happy when you were able to put your feelings and thoughts onto paper. This was the main reason why you became the manager of your local newspaper during middle school, high school and eventually even university.

You've won multiple writing contests and even people who had no idea what your name was knew one thing about you: you were an amazing writer.

Years of practice, your impeccable set of skills and a recommendation letter from your university professor secured you a job at Vogue almost immediately. After all this hard work, you finally achieved everything you were looking for. You were truly happy.

Until this very moment.

"Well, I don't know," the woman sitting in front of you made a disgusted grimace, "it just lacks any emotion whatsoever. I've quite literally never read something so stiff and akward."

And here they were. The first words of criticism you have ever recieved. You were so used to everyone praising your work, you didn't know how to react or respond.

Three months ago, you would have never gotten into a similar situation: simply because there was nothing about your work to critize. But a lot has changed in the past few weeks, and not exactly in the good kind of way.

When you first joined Vogue, you were the head editor and journalist of the spread dedicated almost entirely to interviews. Thats what you did, talked to celebrities and wrote about them. And that's what you were good at, almost too good.

Just a year after working in the magazine you got promoted. You were still the head editor, but now of a completely different part of the journal: one dedicated to a single topic. Love. This was bad news, very bad news.

Why, you ask? The reason was fairly simple but no less embarrassing. Even as the head editor of a spread all about love, you've never experienced it yourself. In other words, you've never been in love. And how are you supposed to write about something you know nothing about?

Your boss looks at you and shakes her head. She reaches for the stack of papers on the table in front of her and starts reading, "For example; 'His lips brushed against mine. They were soft. The kiss was short but sweet. I loved it.' What the actual heck? I kiss my cat more passionately than this." she took off her glasses and started massaging the crook of her nose.

"Listen, Y/N, I've read your previous pieces and they were simply wonderful. But this? I don't even know what else to say without hurting your feelings."

"I'm so sorry. I know, it's just that I dont have much experience in said area." you don't finish the sentence, hoping she somehow gets the memo. She doesn't.

"What area?"

"Love. I dont have much experience with love." you blurt out the words that have been on your mind nonstop since the day of your promotion.

"Oh, you poor thing" she leans back in her chair, her eyes scanning your every move, "Isn't that unfortunate."

You nod your head slowly, trying not to get offended at her words full of pity.

"How are you supposed to write romance stories then? This won't work." the woman grabs a post-it note

"Are," your voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, "Are you firing me?"

"Are you crazy? Of course I'm not," she hands you the piece of paper with a phone number, "We just have to improvise for the time being. Do you know Roseanne Park? She's the manager of our Matchmaker spread. You can be her assistant for the next few months, help her around, learn a thing or two. Hopefully your writing wont be so...bland after."

To be completely honest, you didn't handle changes well. Maybe that's why you were standing in front of your new, and hopefully temporary, bosses office, trying to build up the courage to knock on her door.

One of the reasons why you were so nervous was that Roseanne Park, the manager of the Vogue Matchmaker was insanely attractive. Admittedly, you did some online stalking the night before- okay, a lot of it. Here's the thing; you were a planner. Whether it came to your career, writing or even relationships, you liked to beprepared.

That's why after a few hours spent on the internet, you knew everything. The name of her sister (Alice Park), if the had a pet (yes, a fish named Joohwangie) and who her favorite band was (The 1975).

You weren't usually like this, so head over heels for a girl you haven't even met. But your writing, the reason you were here in the first place, didn't usually suck so after all, some things really do change easily.

Just as you reached for the dark wooden door in front of you, it opened before your hand could even touch it's sleek surface.

"Oh!" the tall woman stopped in her tracks. Thanks to your thorough internet digging, you instantly recognized her. Roseanne Park. Your new boss. A 'matchmaker' if you will.

"You must be Y/N! I've heard that you're going to be my assistant for a bit." your cheeks heated up for no apparent reason. Did she know the reason why you got transferred here so quickly? Every molecule in your body wished and prayed to every possible god out there that she didn't.

"Yeah, that's me!" you finally composed yourself enough to speak, but that didn't mean your voice didn't sound like one of a twelve year old boy going through puberty- high pitched and squeaky.

You examined her face more in depth, and realized quite a few things:

She was somehow even prettier in real life. How? you had no idea. Some people just really won the genetics lottery, you thought.

Her hair was red. Like undeniably, undoubtedly red. In all of the pictures you found yesterday it was either brown or black, so this change caught you off guard. You couldn't complain though, because this girl looked like a hotter version of Ariel with a much better sense in fashion (and music).

"Have you been standing out here for too long?"

"Oh no, I just arrived." lying has never been so easy.

"Great! I'm gonna go downstairs to grab a package but you can look around the office while I'm gone," she opened the door a bit to let you walk in.

You did as she told you and entered the room. The door closed behind you without you noticing, the only thing you could focus on was this girl's office. It looked just like you would imagine heaven to look like- full of light, white furniture and expensive looking leather couches.

There were pictures everywhere: a dozen of four young girls (one of them being Roseanne), a few more of her with famous celebrities and one of a familiar looking face- her sister.

You carefully walked towards the table in the middle of the room, not wanting to damage anything. You noticed quite a bit of unexpected clutter, and above everything a print of the brand new Vogue issue. A woman on the cover flashed you a beautiful smile as you picked it up. The headline stated: Kim Jisoo talks acting, NYFW and love.

You flipped the glossy magazine pages to find the spread dedicated to said interview and noticed just what you were looking for: the author of the article. The credits at the bottom of the page revealed a nice surprise- Author; Roseanne Park.

"Well what do you think? Is it a good article?" your soul almost left your body when you realized who was standing next to you. You quickly put the magazine down, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to touch your stuff. I just saw the cover and..."

"Oh my gosh, are you kidding? That's completely okay, I don't mind." she pointed to the journal, "That interview is actually one of the favorite pieces I ever wrote, and not just because it's about Jisoo. Plus, my friend took the pictures, so it was extra fun." She opened the spread again and pointed to a name credited right next to hers, Photographer; Lalisa Manoban.

"Oh wow. I've seen her pictures before, they're really good. I with I could take photos like that. Seriously."

Here's one thing to note: when you're nervous, you ramble. Like a lot. Some people would say its better than staying silent, but let's be honest- it's like stepping into a puddle instead of mud. Not a disaster, but there's still plenty to complain about.

Thankfully, Roseanne only giggled, "I know exactly what you mean. I hope you'll get to work with her someday."

You both stared at the magazine spread for a second before Roseanne broke the silence.

"But now, let's get to bussines. Sit down please, this might take a while," she pointed tkwards one of the leather couches you noticed earlier and took a seat at the other side of the table.

"So, as you probably already know, my name is Roseanne Park. As a manager of Matchmaker, my job is to read these letters," she grabben a handful of papers for emphasis, "and respond to them, give advixe basically. The title 'Matchmaker' comes from the fact that the majority of the letters talk about love. Any questions so far?"

When you shook your head no, she continued, "As my assistant, your job is fairly simple. You're going to sort and read through the hundreds of letters I recieve weekly and pick the most interesting ones for me to feature. And occasionally, you might accompany me to a few interviews. Sounds good?"

You slowly nodded, processing all the new information. Letters, answers, interviews and a hot boss. That doesn't sound so bad.

"Great. So Y/N," she suddenly stood up, "Would you mind going with me to Subway? I'm starving."

By the time you were finished with lunch, you had a new point to add to your list of realizations about your new boss:

She loves food, and by loves I mean LOVES.

The moment you arrived at the restaurant, food was the only thing she would talk about. She told you about what she had for dinner and breakfast, what kind of snacks she hid in the office and what kind of salad she was getting alongside a baguette.

After she actually managed to get a bit of calories into her system (thanks to a foot-long chicken turkey sandwich) the conversation finally got more interesting.

Don't get me wrong, you could listen to this girl talk for hours, no matter the topic. But after listening to a thirty minute long monologue about why pineapple pizza is the best thing ever invented, even you have reached your limit.

"So," you start, in an effort to break the ice, "how long have you been working at Vogue?"

She squints at the toast in front of her, trying to remember, "About five years? Yeah, it's gonna be five years in May."

"Oh wow, that's impressive."

She tilts her head, "Is it? I mean, when you work as often as I do, time just goes by. I don't even remember the last time I went out with my friends to discuss something that wasn't work related."

You pout, regretting the choice to ask her about work.

"But at the same time, I love what I do so I can't really complain. What about you though? Why did you decide to become a journalist?"

"Oh, I started just a year ago. And I studied literature, so I guess becoming a journalist made sense."

"Why did you study literature then? There's so many other better paying jobs out there."

"I don't think anyone works in such a field for money, that's for sure," you try to lighten the atmosphere, "Well, my mom wanted to become a writer, but she got pregnant before she could finish her book and she's been pretty much busy ever since. I guess her love for books kind of rubbed off on me."

Roseanne nods, to let you know she's listening. "I'm glad you and your mom have such an important aspect of your lives in common. My mother wanted me to become a lawyer, I doubt she's ever read even a single fiction book in her entire life."

"What does she think about your job now?"

Her lips tighten and she crosses her arms. "I don't know. I haven't talked to her since," her eyes seem empty, their signature spark gone. You can tell you struck a nerve. "I haven't talked to her since I moved out."

"Well, I'm sure that she's proud of you," you can't help but add.

Rosie lets out a dry laugh, "You don't know my mother then," she slowly pushes her plate away, "I think I'm full so I'm gonna head back to the office."

Sometimes it's better to keep your mouth shut. You learned this the hard way.

You head back after your lunch break ends, alone. Even though Roseanne walked you through everything she expects you to help around with, you know that your job doesn't start and end with sorting through letters.

You softly knock on the office door before heading in. She's already sitting there, behind her desk. Without looking up from her laptop, she scoffs, "You're late."

"It's just five minutes," you shrug, not taking her tone seriously. Finally, she raises her sight to meet yours. Even without her saying anything, you understand. Do not play around with fire.

You mumble an apology and quickly run to the small hallway at the other side of the room which leads to your own (significantly smaller) office.

"What makes you think I'm done?" Turning around, you notice that her eyes are piercing through your back. Unsure of what she expects you to do, you walk back in front of her.

"While you were out there doing god knows what for two hours," you resist the urge to roll your eyes, "I already did your job and sorted through the letters. You're welcome."

She walks around the table and pushes a thick stack of papers against your chest, "That means you'll be doing my job and write replies to them. Can you handle that?"

You try not to show her how terrified you are. You? Giving relationship advice? Sounds like a recipe for a royal disaster. Instead, you rise your chin and smile, "Yes ma'am."

She visibly winces at the formal title, but still nods and returns to her seat. You take this as a sign to head back to your spot and do your job. Well, her job for now.

You sit down calmly and shuffle through the papers, trying not to look too freaked out. What the heck are you going to do now?

A quick peek at your boss reveals that she's either busy with work or just flat out ignoring you.

Trying to remain collected, you pick out the top letter from the pile. The first paragraph reads:

Hi Rosie! I'm a huge fan of your Matchmaker spread :) I never thought I'd be the one writing you a message but here we are hahaha. (Let's hope this gets featured!)

You roll your eyes but continue reading,

Me and my boyfriend have been dating for just about two months and I would describe our relationship as 'lowkey'. We first met at a bar a last year but we surprisingly didn't immediately hit it off.

With a raised eyebrow you skip over a page full of sappy descriptions and relationship stories, before getting to the end of the letter.

So what should I do? He's really sweet but I'm not sure if I'm ready to meet his family just yet.... please help! Love, Courtney.

You fold the paper back to it's original state with a quiet gulp. What on earth did you get yourself into?

[cole-grey-writes]

Pains & Stains

Universe: The Witcher (Netflix)

Timeline: Post-Season One

Character(s): Ciri, Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier

Pairing(s): Ciri x Trans Male Reader (platonic), Geralt of Rivia x Trans Male Reader (platonic), Jaskier x Trans Male Reader (platonic)

Warning(s): not episode 6: Rare Species compliant, blood, period talk, vomit, swearing, temporary misgendering

Summary: When you wake up one morning in a puddle of blood, you look to Ciri, the only one who knows about you. You’ve kept this part of yourself hidden from your other travel companions, Geralt and Jaskier, for a reason. But, now it looks like you can’t hide anymore.

A/n: I had the worst period of my entire life. This is basically a retelling of what happened to me (with some embellishment of course). Sidenote, ciri x reader can actually be read as either romantic or platonic, whichever you prefer (it says platonic only because it’s not explicitly romantic) but since ciri and reader are both teenagers (id say 14-15 ish, give or take a few years) the geralt and jaskier x readers are strictly platonic/familial type relationships. Also, i got another week of spring break so pls send in asks before i have to focus more on school again. But anyway, enjoy °u°

Side Note: in regards to Geralt at the end, I genuinely don’t think he’s being transphobic or misgendering on purpose and that’s not how I meant for it to come off as. In my opinion, I think geralt is just wholely... unaware of the situation. He’s basically been isolated (with the exception of other Witchers) for a vast majority of his life so I think with that comes ignorance to certain things. So, he’s not being malicious, he’s just very uneducated.

You know exactly what wakes you up. You know what the painful cramps and squishy, warm feeling in your pants means, but you don’t want to look down and confirm it.

The sun is slowly rising which means Geralt will be waking up soon and you don’t want him to find you bleeding all over yourself. You wouldn’t be able to explain yourself without having to tell him about you, so you accept your fate begrudgingly.

Sneaking a peak at Geralt and Jaskier, you take note that they’re both still sleeping in their separate bed rolls on the opposite side of the burned out campfire. You roll back over as quietly as you can and reach out to Ciri, who’s sleeping right next to you, and try to get her attention. It takes a few calls of her name and a shove before she finally wakes up confused. All you can do when she looks at you questioningly is ask for help.

Ciri is, rightfully, concerned and immediately up and ready to help. She gets her bag, fishing out the cloth she uses for her menstrations before she gives it to you. You stand to leave when Ciri asks, whispering, “What are you gonna do?”

“Go to a stream close by or something and wash my clothes.”

Ciri nods. “I’ll deal with the blood.”

You eye the small puddle of blood that had dripped down your leg and into the forest floor. You turn away quickly, agreeing. You head off in some random direction and it isn’t long before you come across a stream and begin stripping. It’s awkward being naked out in the open, even worse when the water you’re washing up in only comes up to your waist but you figure it would be even more awkward to explain to your travel companions why you have blood all over your crotch.

You bear the vulnerable feeling and refuse to look down while you allow the flowing water to clean your lower body, simultaneously scrubbing vigorously at your pants and smallclothes. You decide to take longer than necessary to wash. You know it’s gonna be a long day of walking so you wanna make sure you don’t immediately feel gross.

After the washing is finished, you just get your clothes back on, still stained but less so and now damp, when Ciri comes into view.

“I couldn’t get the stain all the way out,” you tell her, feigning nonchalance when all you can feel inside is panic.

Ciri tells you, “It’s fine,” before she’s pulling her cloak off and handing it to you. “You can wear it until we can sneak you some new pants.”

You sigh, relieved and grateful. “Thank you.”

Ciri smiles and you both begin to head back to camp. As you walk, Ciri questions you about the pain. You and Ciri go back a long time, practically grew up with each other. Your parents were soldiers of noble blood who fought alongside Queen Calanthe so you’ve known each other since you were kids. It didn’t take long for you to confess to Ciri about how you felt when people called you by the name your parents gave you or when your dad called you his little baroness or when the peasant boys you and ciri played around with called you little girl. And since you were so close, she knows all about how painful your time can be.

“It's not so bad right now,” you tell her, subconsciously rubbing at your abdomen.

“That's good,” Ciri says. You agree but silently wonder how long it will take before you’re completely consumed by pain.

You’re both silent as you make it the rest of the way back to camp. As you step back into the clearing where you had slept, you note that the camp is completely put away. The only thing left as a sign that anyone had been here is the circle of burnt firewood.

“Ah, there you two are, you little scamps,” Jaskier exclaims upon seeing you walk into the packed up camp, throwing up his hands dramatically. “We were beginning to think you’d gotten lost.”

Beside Jaskier, Geralt doesn’t look all that worried but he does look mad, although he does always look like that. He leans against a tree with his arms crossed, glaring at you as you approach. “Where have you been?”

“I told you I was going to the bathroom,” Ciri explains quickly.

Geralt says, without looking away from you but still gently, “Not you.”

Geralt’s tone doesn’t bother you as much as it used to. He was worse in the beginning actually. You used to think that Geralt hated you for some reason because he wasn’t as distant with Ciri as he was with you and then Jaskier joined Geralt in his travels again. And he treated Jaskier about the same as he treats you. It took a few days of observing interactions between the two men to figure out that Geralt wasn’t being mean or, rather, wasn’t trying to be. He was just reluctantly accepting of the presences of men.

It also crossed your mind more than once that it could be because Ciri was his child surprise, as Jaskier eventually explained. But whatever the reason may be, he acts differently with you and there isn’t much you can do about it so you ignore it as much as you can.

“I was washing up,” you explain lamely.

“We did that last night,” Geralt says through gritted teeth. Which, yeah, they did while Ciri bathes by herself away from sight — still within Geralt’s earshot for safety reasons, obviously —, the men bathe together. And since you haven’t had the courage to tell Geralt and Jaskier your situation, you, in fact, did not bathe last night.

“Oh, hush,” Jaskier says, waving Geralt off. “So he wanted to wash in the morning. I actually do it often when I'm not spreading the tales of your heroics and I find it quite refreshing. You know, some say people that wash in the morning actually-”

“We should’ve left by now,” Geralt huffs. “We’re late.”

You sigh, watching Geralt walk away and start leading Roach down the path.

Jaskier comes to stand beside you, throwing an arm over your shoulders. He playfully tells you, “Don't let Geralt bother you any. He's not a morning person, clearly,” which makes you instantly smile.

“Where are we headed?” Ciri wonders as she comes to stand next to you, too.

“About a day’s north,” Jaskier says.

You groan, throwing your head back. “A day?!”

“Yes, I’m afraid,” Jaskier confirms sympathetically. “Ah! But, if you would like a nice way to pass the time, I am always willing to give a little… sneak peak of my new ballad.”

Ciri gasps, eyes sparkling. “Yes please!”

You hum, “Sure.”

Jaskier begins strumming his lute and you all set after Geralt, doing your best to ignore the increasing pain in your abdomen.

As always, it doesn’t take long at all for the force of the pain you usually feel to hit full throttle and in turn, the nausea sets in.

You wrap your arms around yourself, fingers digging into your sides with all the strength you have, doing your best to ignore it. You had hoped it would even out the pain so it wouldn’t be that bad, maybe distract you for a while, but it doesn’t work even a little bit and it’s downright unbearable.

By mid morning, your muscles are shaking, you’re sure you’ve carved little crescents into your sides even through your shirt, and you're dripping in sweat with the effort to not cry and fall to the floor in blinding pain. You blame the last one on the blistering sun when anyone questions you about it.

Your problem causes you to lag behind everyone else quite often, although Ciri does her best to stay with you and keep you mind off the splintering pain. She talks endlessly about anything and nothing at all but it helps only a little bit.

It’s during a particular lull in the one sided conversation between you and Ciri that you hear Jaskoer badgering Geralt insistently about something. You almost don’t pay any attention to it, it's Jaskier and Geralt so that's how they always are, until you hear him say your name.

“He needs a break, Geralt,” Jaskier says sternly and louder than his previous tone, which catches Ciri’s attention as well. Geralt continues to ignore the bard. “Maybe your witcher eyesight is starting to diminish in old age, so I suppose I'll enlighten you. He is positively sweating rivers, Geralt. He’s soaked through his little-”

Geralt pulls Roach to a sudden halt so he can growl in Jaskier’s face. “Fine, we can take a break if it will get you to shut up!” Then, Geralt ushers Roach forward faster, veering off the path.

Jaskier turns to you and Ciri, smiling a very smug smile. “Well, time for a well deserved break. Hopefully there’s a river nearby, we can fill up our waterskins. Maybe splash about for a while if Geralt doesn’t threaten to leave us behind for taking too long, if we’re lucky, if-“ and you tune him out as he keeps talking on account that a hot spike of pain stabs you directly in the pelvis. You barely manage to swallow a cry, although your face contorts in the effort. It caused Jaskier to pause mid babble. “Are you alright?”

“No, I'm fine,” you say, rather quickly. Too quickly.

“Are you sure? Because you really look very pale. And, actually, your hands are-”

You’re yelling before you can stop yourself. “I said, I’m fine!” Pushing past Jaskier roughly, you rush to catch up to Geralt who’s almost completely immersed in the foliage a little ways away from the path. You prefer, at the moment, to deal with an annoyed Geralt than a chronically curious Jaskier who questions you nonstop about what’s wrong with you until you get so fed up, you spill all your secrets.

There’s no river or stream where Geralt decided to stop and let Roach chew on some grass near his feet, but there is a small sized pond. You don’t wander too close to Geralt, keeping your distance like you always do, instead choosing to sit against a tree while pressing your knees hard against your chest to try and control the pain.

Jaskier and Ciri approach only seconds later. Jaskier immediately walks over to Geralt and starts talking to him about his new ballad, even though they’ve all heard it five times that morning so far, and Ciri comes to sit down next to you.

Ciri leans close to your side, whispering, “How high is the pain so far?”

You show her your hands, shaking visibly, causing Ciri to frown. She grabs one of your hands and holds it in her lap soothingly, rubbing her thumb across the back. “I also feel like throwing up.”

“That might have to do with the fact you didn’t eat dinner,” Ciri tells you as a matter of factly, side eyeing you pointedly. “And breakfast.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say dismissively. You add, in a sad attempt to use comedy to cope with the pain, “I've made mistakes.” In response, Ciri doesn’t laugh but she hums with a small smile.

You sit silently for a few moments before you turn to Ciri and say, “I think, maybe it would be a good idea to throw up a little bit.”

Ciri shakes her head doubtfully. “I don’t know, Y/n.”

“I should at least try it,” you tell her, shrugging. “It might help get rid of the feeling, even for a little bit. Maybe hold me over until Jaskier can convince Geralt to stop for another break.”

Ciri looks like she thinks it over before she nods reluctantly. “I guess that makes sense.”

You and Ciri stand together, seeming to grab Geralt’s attention. When he begins to approach with Jaskier in tow, you turn sharply to give Ciri a questioning look. Ciri nods understandingly, sending you walking away speedily in a random direction, not bothering to spare either man a glance. You can feel the burn of Geralt’s golden eyes on the back of your head as you retreat into the forest, but you don’t slow your gate. You hear Ciri explain that you had to pee and silently thank her for being such a good liar.

You only stop walking when you feel you’re far enough from Geralt’s impressive hearing won’t catch the pitiful noises you’ll inevitably make. You notice that you’re near a fallen tree and you decide you can use it for support. Walking over to it, you drop to your knees and put both hands on the horizontal trunk. Waiting only a few seconds for the nausea to bubble up, but it obviously doesn’t when you want it to and you figure since Geralt’s been in a bad enough mood all morning, it’d be best to make this experience as quick as possible.

Opening your mouth, you stick a single finger to the back of your throat, gagging instantly. Except nothing comes up. Your breathing increases tremendously though and you do feel the sickness set back in quickly after. You gag twice more without any help from your fingers before you feel your stomach finally give a wet gurgle. Gagging once final time, a yellow liquid comes up. It's warm and slippery but there's hardly any of it, barely a handful.

You were right earlier, it seems, because you do feel better, if only a little. Your stomach finally settles and the sickness isn't burning the back of your throat anymore. You kneel on the ground for only a few more moments, making sure you’re done. You stand when you deem yourself stable enough, wiping the slime from your lips. Your turn to make your way back to your companions before you’re left behind, ignoring the quivering that spreads from your hands to your stomachs to your thighs.

As it turns out, you couldn’t quite ignore your trembling libs and apparently, neither could Jaskier. He stopped you multiple times on the long and agonizing walk, asking if you were alright, and every time you told him you were fine every time. Jaskier clearly didn’t believe you if the increasing number of worried glances were anything to go by.

Your condition, as the day drew on, only grew worse and it was getting bad enough to cause a crease to appear on even Geralt’s brow. You barely make it to midday before Geralt is suddenly deverting from the path and leading the group through the woods to a new destination. It confuses you and Ciri, causing you to exchange glances, but you both choose not to say anything.

The new destination, as it turns out, is the nearest civilization that actually only takes a little over ten minutes to get to. It’s a small backwater village with barely ten families, only a single story inn, a quaint little tavern, some food vendors scattered around in the center of town, and, thankfully, a stable for Roach. Surrounding the village is nothing but yellow fields on one side and the blossoming forest on the other side, which is an odd combination in your opinion. Obviously, given it’s miniscule size, there’s nowhere to sightsee — not that you do much of that anyway, thanks to Geralt’s workaholic attitude — so you all immediately head off in the direction of the inn.

Outside, Geralt hands you and Ciri some coin. “Go inside, book a room–”

“–preferably with two beds,” Jaskier jumps in easily.

Geralt, ignoring him, continues, “–while I drop off Roach–”

“–and I look for work at the tavern.”

Ignoring Jaskier even harder, Geralt wonders, “Think you can manage that?” You side eye Geralt at that because you know he’s talking about you, but it doesn’t sound melicious like you would’ve expected from him. In fact, it sounds to you like his tone leans more towards slight concern than anything else.

Shifting around on your feet, you look down and fidget with the sleeves of Ciri’s cloak that is darker now at the ends from you wiping away the sweat from your face all morning.

Ciri takes the coin bag from Geralt. “We will.” When Jaskier and Geralt walk away, you follow Ciri into the inn. She turns to you as soon as you walk in, saying, “It might take a bit to get the room. Do you think you’re able to stand and wait just a little bit long before resting or maybe you should sit down?”

You shrug even though you feel like your limbs are weighing you down. Ciri gives you another doubtful look of the day and tells you to just have a seat while she gets a room. You watch her walk over to the innkeeper before your brain catches up.

You do as Ciri said, walking over to a stool that sits next to an empty table and drop into it, your feet dragging the whole way. Resting your head on the table feels more relieving than it should, but you really don’t have any more strength left to think about it or to keep your eyes open any longer. They droop and fall close.

It feels like only seconds that you sit there before a hand grasps onto your shoulder. Your eyes snap open, vision blurry with rest even though you feel like you got none at all.

“Sorry,” Ciri apologizes. “The innkeeper was trying really hard to negotiate a price.”

You shake your head drowly. “Didn’t really notice.”

“Well, the room is paid for now so we can go settle in,” Ciri seems overly happy about that but maybe it’s just for your sake. “You can change cloths before Geralt and Jaskier get here. Dinner won’t be served for hours so there’s plenty of time for a nap before that.”

You nod, agreeing. It does sound nice and it would be good to change cloths so you don’t leak while you sleep.

You stand to start walking with Ciri to your room, but as soon as you’re upright, a flash of cold air whooshes through your body and you immediately feel light headed. Stumbling, you accidentally knock over your stool and another next to you. Ciri grabs onto your arms to help you stay standing but it’s no use. Your knees buckle anyway, vision going dark just as you feel yourself collapse into Ciri’s arms.

You wake up slowly only because you still feel like absolute shit. Your arms feel stiff and your legs feel as shaky as they have been all day. Your stomach is tying itself in knots and the nausea is back.

Your eyes actually don’t hurt from the dim light at your left, but you close your eyes anyway in hopes of going back to sleep.

“Oh, you’re awake.” You open your eyes at the undeniable sound of Jaskier’s relieved voice. You have to turn your head to actually see him, noticing as you do so that there is a cool damp cloth on your forehead and that you are laid above the covers. Jaskier, when he comes into view, is kneeling in front of the fireplace, setting two more pieces of wood in the dwindling flame. “That’s good. I was getting a bit worried.”

Not wanting to move your head more than you have to, you just look where you can from this certain angle. Thought, to be honest, there’s not much to look at. You are obviously in the room Ciri paid for. It’s small like you expected from a one story inn. There’s a chair in the corner by the fire with Ciri’s cloak thrown over the back of it. The dark blue curtains over the windows are closed and it would be drowning the room in complete darkness if it wasn’t still daytime out. But, given the bright orange light coming seeping through, you suspect it’s not going to be much longer. Also, there’s a small table next to your bed with a lit lantern sitting on it.

“It’s on low,” Jaskier says suddenly. You look at him questioningly. Jaskier smiles softly, saying, “The lantern. I put it on low so it didn’t hurt your eyes.”

You guess he must have seen you eyeing it.

“You’ve spent an awful long time without food,” Jaskier tells you, almost as if you didn’t know that yourself. But, still, you grimace at that thought of food. “Yes, I imagine food really doesn’t sound all that appealing given the nausea and cramps. But, alas, you must eat something.”

You wonder for a moment if Ciri told them about you but you shove the possibility away violently. You know she wouldn’t do that. Ciri had promised when you first started traveling with Geralt that she would never say anything if you didn’t want her to. But, then again, it’s not a real surprise Jaskier knows. You’ve heard many tales of Jaskier’s many sisters while he’s traveled with you. He’s grown up with many women in his life, and while you are no woman, that doesn’t discourage your body from acting like one.

Jaskier walks over to you with a wooden bowl in his hands. Jaskier sets the bowl on the table next to the lantern. He says, jokingly, “It’s no rabbit stew, but it’s good, I suppose. Do you think you can sit up a small bit and have some soup?” You can groan minutely and turn your head away in response. “Come on, cub.”

You pause at the endearment. It's not new but it is surprising in this situation. Jaskier uses it often with you and Ciri given your high status Cintran blood. But, he’s never used it all those times he’s lectured you and Ciri about wandering around towns without supervision or when you swear when he’s around or when you and Ciri sneak away with his lute for some of your own concerts. Which means Jaskier is clearly not mad at you for keeping your secrets or at least he’s really, really worried about you.

“It’s been almost an entire day since your last meal. There’s no way you’re not starving.” Still not willing to force food down right now, you swallow around your dry, swollen feeling tongue. With a scratch to your voice, you ask about Ciri with as little words as possible. “Out. With Geralt, getting some… products.”

You don't miss the obvious way Jaskier stumbles. You have no doubt what word he skipped over in his explanation and it confuses you. Usually everyone just assumes–

Geralt comes clambering into the room with Ciri right behind him. Unlike Geralt, who has that permanent scowl on his face, Ciri is smiling brightly.

Ciri comes over to sit down next to you immediately, setting down the loaded bag on the bed in front of her. “How are you feeling?” She asks. When you hum noncommittally, Ciri hums back empathetically. “Well, we went into town and look!” Ciri exclaims, pulling out some black pants from the bag. “We got you some new pants. They might be a little big but I know you don't mind that,” Ciri tells you, smiling a little too cheerfully for something so simple as a pair of pants, but you smile back anyway.

Ciri goes to say something else, no doubt still praises about the pants, but Geralt interrupts her harshly. “Are you going to explain what happened or not?”

Jaskier’s head whips around from where he’d been looking on at you and Ciri. “Geralt,” he hisses.

Geralt is unbothered and continues despite Jaskier’s warning. “Why were you keeping secrets?”

“Geralt, is this really the time?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

Jaskier fully turns towards Geralt, hands resting on his hips. “Oh, I don't know, Geralt, maybe it’s because he’s sick!”

“She lied,” Geralt growls.

You sigh, resigned. You were expecting it but it still makes your belly sink with ice.

Your eyes flash open when the bed shifts violently. When you do, you see that Ciri has jumped up on the bed, towering over Geralt. “She?!” Ciri screeches indignantly, catching everyone off guard. “He is a boy!”

“Ciri,” Jaskier says gently, attempting to calm the obviously furious girl.

From behind her, you, as well, do your best to appease Ciri, even if you would really much rather crawl into the mouth of a Kikimore and never come back out. “Ciri, it’s fine…”

“No, it’s not. Do you even know how hard it is for him to be seen as who he is?” Ciri says, voice still booming. Geralt looks rightfully surprised. “He did not spend years publicly reinventing himself to be mistaken as a she!”

When Geralt tries to speak, Ciri doesn’t let him have the chance. In fact, Ciri raises her fists and starts hitting Geralt, saying multiple explicit ‘fuck you’s. Geralt, in turn, blocks her attacks but doesn’t try to stop her while Jaskier rushes over to calm her down himself.

The fighting only stops when you curl in on yourself from a painful cramp. You barely have enough sense to roll over to your side to vomit over the side of the bed. The puddle is even smaller than the one in the forest.

Ciri breathes heavily, crossing her arms while scowling that rivaled Geralt’s own. “Get out.”

“Ciri,” Jaskier tries, but Ciri moves away from Jaskier and tells them to leave again, more steely. Jaskier sighs. He puts his hand on Geralt's arm and shoves him towards the door. You have no doubt that Geralt allows Jaskier to move him, knowing that there’s no physical way Jaskier is strong enough to move him on his own. Jaskier turns back towards Ciri as he stands in the doorway. “Try to get him to eat, alright?”

Ciri doesn’t give any sign that she’s heard what he’s said or that she’s going to follow his direction. With that, Jaskier leaves and shuts the door behind himself.

You sigh from your fetal position, far more relieved to have them leave than you feel you should be. Actually feeling comfortable in this position, you’re reluctant to move. “You didn’t have to do that,” you tell Ciri, deciding not to face her.

“I did,” is all Ciri says in response. She sits in bed behind you, doing so slowly and softly so as not to jostle you. “You want some sleep?”

You hum, thinking. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Yeah, I suppose it wouldn’t,” Ciri agrees. “You can eat and change your cloth when you wake up.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you joke lightly.

Ciri agrees again, shifting and wrapping her arms around you, curling up behind you. “I’ll be here when you wake up this time.”

You smile, shutting your eyes. “I’ll hold you to that.”

(NOT MY GIF)

Main Blog // Other Side Blog

((NO ONE HAS MY PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WORK ANYWHERE EVEN WITH CREDIT))

[renaerys]

All right Anon. Since my blog was hacked and I had to delete and remake it, I know I lost some Tumblr-exclusive posts from back in ye olde Naruto heydays. Here’s a TobiIzu prompt I did for my friend Nicole called “Eclipse” that I managed to dig up in my Google Drive. It is 2013 quality (i.e., without the benefit of 7 years’ additional experience, so I’m sorry about that), but this is how it appeared as originally posted. Hopefully this is what you were looking for! :)

Eclipse (TobiIzu)

Generations later they would talk about Senju Hashirama and Uchiha Madara, the eternal rivals and fiercest of friends who created a kingdom and nearly destroyed it with their own hands.  They would talk about Uzumaki Mito and how she saved them from themselves for as long as a person can be saved, going so far as to seal Hashirama’s love and Madara’s hatred within herself.  But the sun and the moon have shadows even if no one can see them beyond the blinding light.

Senju Tobirama did not always hate the Uchiha.  Some he even grew to depend upon.  Every yin needs a yang.  

“Suiton: Suishouha!”

At seven years old, Tobirama was well on his way to achieving notoriety as an heir to the illustrious Senju clan.  His prowess with water techniques was unheard of at his age, and his father was more than happy to reap that advantage in any way possible.  In a world where a mother’s protests fall upon deaf ears, Tobirama became more comfortable with the wails of his dying enemies than the sweet songs his mother used to sing at night as he fell asleep.  

“Hhhnnngg!”

Strangled cries of those unlucky enough to be swept away with the deluge gurgled, unintelligible, as water filled lungs and doused fires.  Tobirama drew his short sword and followed the path of his technique, searching for any Uchiha that had survived the flood.  What he did not expect to find was one unharmed and charging straight for him.

“Damn you!”

The clang of steel made his ears ring as a young Uchiha soldier slammed into him with all the might in his small body.  Twin daggers sparked against Tobirama’s own weapon, and he stumbled backwards under the shock force.  Overpowered, he had to roll with his attacker’s momentum to avoid slitting his own throat.  On their feet and panting for air, Tobirama got a look at his opponent and the fury boiling in his red eyes.

Red eyes.

“Sharingan...”

The unnamed Uchiha shook with rage.  “You killed him.  You killed my little brother with that, and now I’m gonna kill you!”

A flurry of hand seals had Tobirama taking a step back, unsure of what was coming until the Uchiha boy inhaled a deep breath and released a great mass of roiling fire.  It careened straight for him at impossible speed, and Tobirama had to turn tail and run.  His boots sloshed in the mud created from his earlier technique and an idea struck.  Channeling his chakra, he called upon the muddy water beneath his feet to rise up behind him in like a shield.  The collision with the great fireball was stunning.  Steam hissed and mud melted, the water mixed in with it barely enough to keep the fire at bay.  

“Tobirama!”

Butsuma’s familiar voice was a welcome sound.  He and a young Itama joined his second son just as fire and water fizzled into a mess of charred mud and the smell of bog.  Tobirama brandished his short sword at his attacker, ready to deliver the killing blow now that his father was watching.

“Izuna, that’s enough.”

Everyone knew Uchiha Tajima, the leader of the Uchiha clan, by face and name.  He placed a hand on the boy’s—Izuna’s—shoulder in silent warning.  

“He killed Kemuri!” Izuna said, taking a step forward with every intention of burning Tobirama alive.

Tajima did nothing to betray whatever he felt about the loss of one of his sons.  It didn’t surprise Tobirama much.  Lives were expendable.  If the leader of a great clan were to break down every time he lost men, he would have no time to fight between the mourning.  Tobirama shifted, thoughts wandering to his younger brother standing next to him.  What if it had been him?

“I suppose I should thank you,” Tajima said, dark eyes fixed on Tobirama and a cruel smirk threatening to bloom.  “Your actions have awakened Izuna’s Sharingan.”

Tears fell from Izuna’s transformed eyes and Tobirama had to wonder.  Had he done this?  Had he given his enemy a better weapon?

“Let’s end this, Butsuma,” Tajima said.  “You’ve lost enough men for one day.”

“I should say the same for you,” Butsuma said, one hand on the hilt of his katana.

Tajima’s smirk widened.  “Until next time, old friend.”

Izuna held Tobirama’s gaze, red on red as a promise of vengeance sealed in brother’s blood passed between them.  Tobirama found himself leaning closer to his own brother, a silent warning.  

“Tobirama,” Butsuma said once the Uchiha had withdrawn.  “The next time we clash with the Uchiha, kill that boy.  Forget about the others.  Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Father.”

“We can’t afford to let that one grow stronger now that he has the Sharingan.”

The battlefield was a wasteland of mud, soot, and maimed corpses.  Uchiha and Senju alike lay in piles, their armor warped with heat and some bloated from drowning.  It was always the same story when they crossed paths, and no one ever seemed to get the upper hand in the long run.  Destined to fight forever, Tobirama sometimes wondered about the point of it all.  But Butsuma was right.  If the stories were true, the Sharingan could mean the difference between a win and a loss for the Senju.  

And so Senju Tobirama resolved to ensure Uchiha Izuna’s death the next time they crossed paths.  

xxx

The day Kawarama died Tobirama was fourteen and still struggling to make good on the promise he’d made his father.  Madara had set the field aflame, and Hashirama’s animate wood had only made it worse.  Ever the faithful right hand, Tobirama shielded the newly christened Senju leader with his body, hands poised in the fortieth and final seal of the water dragon technique.  

“Tobi!” Hashirama said, worry and relief melted together as his little brother bought him precious time to regroup.  

But light never strays far from its faithful shadow.  Tobirama barely had to time to block the knife to his throat, hissing as it nicked the unprotected skin below his chin.  Izuna had a tendency to sneak up on him like this.  It made double-teaming Madara impossible.

“Now we’re even,” Izuna said as he pushed harder, screeching metal hurting Tobirama’s ears as they vied for dominance.

In a dirty move, Tobirama kicked hard, forcing Izuna to leap backwards to avoid a blow to the stomach that could have cost him.  Fire and water, brother for brother.  To say water could douse fire was to underestimate the heat of Izuna’s hatred.  

“We’ll never be even!” Tobirama said, redirecting his water dragon technique.  

Sharingan spiraled red and black, red and black, and a piercing scream filled the area.  Tobirama yelped, hands burning as though the skin were flayed off his palms.  Sparks jumped across the body of his water dragon, the electricity having cut deep welts in his hands that blistered and smoked.  Izuna, drenched from head to toe and panting, crackled with lightning.

“Lightning trumps water,” he said, water dripping from his long ponytail.  

The fighting never stopped.  Senju and Uchiha were doomed to repeat history, of this Tobirama was certain.  Every time they clashed, more and more of their ranks fell under enemy fire and water, lightning and earth.  There was no end to the slaughter and the power, each side becoming stronger only to discover the other catching up.  

It wasn’t until Hashirama called a temporary ceasefire that Tobirama realized he’d never actually had a conversation with Izuna that didn’t involve them trying to kill each other.  Negotiations were a farce when the Uchiha were involved as far as he was concerned.  And yet, while Hashirama and Madara exchanged terms that everyone knew would never be enough to satisfy both sides, Tobirama and Izuna waited outside the chambers, silent and itching to hurt each other out of ingrained habit.

“This will never work, you know,” Tobirama said after nearly a half hour of silent brooding.  “It never has before.”

He didn’t know why he’d decided to comment on something so futile.  It was obvious to both of them without him pointing it out.  Uchiha and Senju would never see eye to eye.  There was too much bad blood between them now to reconcile.  Hashirama was delusional and Madara was perhaps even more insane to hear out this ludicrous negotiation.  Izuna did not respond right away, and Tobirama scowled.  He should have known better.

“...And yet, they never stop trying.”

Izuna kept his dark gaze to the ground ahead, torches lending a soft glow to his angular features as they waited on either side of the door to the chambers.  All around them, crack patterns danced upon carved stone with each flicker of firelight.  There was no one around—Tobirama and Izuna had made sure their brothers would not be disturbed—and yet they spoke in hushed tones.

“It’s useless,” Tobirama said.  “After all the Uchiha have done, there will be no forgiving.”

“Ah, and you’re an innocent bystander in all this.  Hypocrite.”

The hilt of Tobirama’s sword called to him with an almost audible hum.  A part of him wanted nothing more than to drive it through Izuna’s precious eyes right there and now.  And yet, he paused.

“You’ve become more vicious over the years,” he said, finally voicing what he’d long suspected.  “The older we get, the more hateful you are.  Not that I’d expect anything less from an Uchiha.”

Izuna chuckled.  “And you’ve become cantankerous.  You’re just getting older.”

Murmuring filtered through the heavy wooden doors despite the soundproofing.  It did not bode well for their brothers’ talk.  Still, they would not move until summoned.  They had set aside their mutual animosity and bad blood for this, and neither would betray his brother and leader.  If nothing else, they shared that fierce loyalty.

“This will never work,” Tobirama said at last.

“Tell them that.  They’re living in a dream world in there.  But they’ll wake up.  They always do.  Hard to sleep when people are screaming all around you.”

“Is that all it is then?  A dream.”

“What else would it be?  You killed my brother and I killed yours, just like our fathers before us and their fathers before them.  The sooner you accept that the better.”

Tobirama frowned.  He didn’t like agreeing with Izuna, his brother’s murderer and the bane of his existence for as long as he could remember.  He couldn’t help but think that with Izuna out of the way, Madara would stand no chance against Hashirama and himself.  

“Funny, isn’t it,” Tobirama said.  “We hate each other, and yet we understand each other perfectly.  There is no one who knows my sentiments the way you do.”

“You don’t know this hatred,” Izuna said, averting his eyes once more to stare into the gloom.  “...This hatred is a curse.”

“Curses can be broken.”

Izuna bared his teeth in a smile, and when he met Tobirama’s gaze once more it burned like the fire illuminating the room.  This Sharingan was different, and Tobirama half drew his sword upon instinct.  

“There’s no cure for this curse,” Izuna said, making no move to attack.  “It will kill me, and it will kill you, too.  That’s the only certainty in this world.”

Tobirama was about to ask him what he meant by that when the doors burst open.  

“—can’t ever reach a compromise this way!” Hashirama shouted from within.

Madara stormed out.  “Who would take those terms?  You’re as stupid as you look.  Nothing’s changed.”

Izuna and Tobirama exchanged a look before the former tailed after his irritable brother.  Hashirama emerged soon after, youthful features twisted in frustration and a little despair.  It didn’t suit him at all, but Tobirama kept that thought to himself.  

“At least he didn’t attempt to attack you this time,” he said instead.

“I just don’t understand, Tobi.  I know he agrees with me, I just know it.  But he’s so stubborn!  He just won’t give into anything.”

“He’s an Uchiha.”  He’s not your brother.

“You make it sound like they’re another species.”

“They are.”

Hashirama sighed and rubbed his eyes.  “They’re not.  They’re just...  Madara’s just looking out for them, that’s all.  We’re not so different from them in the end.”

Tobirama said nothing to that.  For the first time in his life, he found he could not refute it with complete certainty.

xxx

“What did you mean?”

Blood fell to the ground as Tobirama’s short sword made contact with Izuna’s cheek, so light and delicate.  The Uchiha sneered and pulled back, wiping it with a free hand.  

“About what?”  He fired off a rapid round of hand seals even as he questioned his eternal opponent.

“About the curse that can’t be broken.”  

A searing jet of fire careened toward Tobirama at high speed, and if not for the grueling training he’d forced upon himself he would not have survived it.  With only a single hand seal he created a water dragon from out of thin air to defend him, catching the fire before it could incinerate him where he stood.  The collision birthed a wall of steam, hissing like a brood of angry snakes as fire and water clashed in an age old battle, neither able to overwhelm the other without taking equal damage.  At seventeen, they were still stuck in a stalemate.

Forced to shout over the roar of their attacks Izuna said, “Love and hate aren’t so different.  The more I hate, the stronger I become.  And you make it so easy!”

Tobirama grit his teeth and pushed more chakra into his technique.  The water dragon became engorged, slowly but surely pushing back the fire.  He would have to be careful lest Izuna resort to lightning.  That trick would only work once.  All of a sudden, the air around Tobirama became heavy with heat, drawing sweat and turning his cheeks red.  A low rumble resounded from the other side of the clash until black tongues peeked out from amidst the orange flames.  They grew into thick shadows and slithered into the maw of his dragon, evaporating the water on contact.  Alarmed, Tobirama swore and attempted to up the power.

It was no use.  Stygian flames reared up and consumed his dragon until they forced him to release his technique and leap to safety.  He’d never seen anything like it.  Far hotter than any normal fire, there was something spectral about those flames.  

“Izuna!”

He stood rooted to the spot, gaze slowly shifting.  Tobirama felt a cold chill creep up his spine at the sight of his longtime rival with blood falling from his eyes like tears.  

“There’s no cure for this curse.”

“This is what we are, Tobirama,” he said, drawing his twin daggers and advancing.  “You and I...we’ll never escape it.  Now fight me!”

No one would talk about their battles in the histories.  Hashirama and Madara would change the landscape with their power, and Tobirama and Izuna would be there to pick up the pieces.  Shadows follow their celestial masters, hiding behind the light.

xxx

“There’s something about the Uchiha that I think you need to know.”

Hashirama looked up from the paperwork he was reading by the light of a thick tallow candle outlining the terms of an alliance with the wealthy Uzumaki clan.  He’d insisted on doing it himself even though Tobirama was better with this sort of thing.  In any case, it mattered little.  Uzumaki Mito, their closest contact and the clan representative, would smooth out any kinks Hashirama overlooked.  

“Must we talk about this now?  I know your opinion of them already, and I’m tired—”

“I think there’s a reason they are the way they are.”

Hashirama put down his pen and gave his brother his full attention.  “Of course there is.  We’ve wronged them for generations, as they’ve wronged us.  It’s not like they’re doing this for fun.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Tobirama said, thinking on how best to phrase it.  “They...  It’s like they grow stronger the more they hate.”

“...I would assume so.  Hatred is a powerful motivator.”

“No, I mean, they become physically stronger.  That new Sharingan isn’t normal.  You know it.”

Hashirama smiled a little.  “Well, it’s certainly nothing to sneeze at.”

“Izuna said they were cursed.  That I don’t understand his hatred.”

“You were speaking with Izuna?  I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say anything to him that didn’t involve a death threat.”

Tobirama stared at the wall of the small tent set up on the outskirts of Uzushiogakure, the Senju’s current outpost.  His shadow flickered under the light of the candles, erratic.  

“You don’t know this hatred.”

Why do you always have to be so stubborn?

“This won’t last forever,” he said.  “One day, it will catch up to us.  That’s what curses do.  They fester.”

Hashirama was silent for a long while, and he wondered if his brother understood.  “Then we’ll break the curse.  That’s what I’ve been trying to do for so long.  We’ll do it, Madara and I together.  We will.”

“There’s no cure for this curse.”

The sun and the moon would always be the stuff of fancy, leaving the ugly truths of the world to the darkness of shadows.  Tobirama left his brother to his dreaming without another word.

xxx

Years later they would talk about how Madara finally came around and made peace with Hashirama.  They would talk about how Mito smoothed relations between the two leaders as a voice of reason and gentle influence.  They would never speak of this day, the total eclipse of shadow over light, the first step into the abyss.  Not until it was too late to turn back.

“Izuna!” Madara screamed in the distance.

His blood was surprisingly warm for someone so coldhearted.  It caressed Tobirama’s hand, loosening the grip about the hilt of his sword.  Even as he plunged it deeper through Izuna’s chest, his free hand came up to push too-long bangs out of his eyes.  Gone was the angry red of the Sharingan.  A cough drew bloody spittle.

“T-Tobirama...”

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.  They were equals, Senju and Uchiha, yin and yang.  One could not exist without the other.  One had no meaning without the other.  A tight feeling in his throat made it hard to talk without his voice cracking.

“You were supposed to avoid that,” Tobirama said, kneeling them on the ground and supporting Izuna’s weight.  “Any idiot could have avoided that.”

“I’m n-not an idiot.”

He was angry.  So angry.  “Damn you.  Damn you to hell.”

Izuna smirked, blood dribbling down his chin.  “Then I’ll wait for you there.”

Tears burned as Tobirama felt Izuna grip the hilt of his sword, only blood separating them.  That was always how it had been.  They were connected in every way but by blood, and in death he was sure of it.

“I suppose...you do know me...best.”

“Izuna, I—”  I’m sorry.

“I know.  I kn-know.”

Madara and Hashirama were running toward them, coming to their aid for the first time.  The world was upside down.  It should have been Madara, not Izuna.  Shadows are incorporeal.  They cannot die.

I am not my brother.

Izuna pushed the sword deeper and twisted it, dark eyes glazing over with the shock of pain.  And still he smiled.  Tobirama had never seen him smile.  Hot tears dripped onto his hand, mixing with Izuna’s blood.

“Maybe...curses can be b-broken...after all.”

Not like this.

He was gone before their brothers could reach them.

xxx

It was a beautiful day in the Hidden Leaf Village.  The sun was warm and a light breeze carried the scent of wildflowers to Tobirama’s porch where he sat enjoying the lazy afternoon.  It was too hot for his Hokage regalia, so he’d discarded it over the back of his chair.  He sensed her long before she turned the corner onto the street leading to his small abode.

“Mito.”

The redhead smiled and took a seat next to him.  “Contemplating again, Hokage-sama?”

He stiffened.  “Please don’t call me that.”

“It’s your title.”

“It’s my brother’s title.”

Mito’s smile faltered.  “It’s yours now.  He would be proud.”

Tobirama sighed.  After all was said and done, he and Mito were the only ones left.  It made no sense.  How could shadows linger without light to guide them?  He supposed he would lose his mind if not for her.

“How do you do it?” he asked.  “Every day...how do you do it?”

Mito put a hand over her navel, perhaps without thinking, and Tobirama could almost see her eyes run red with the Kyuubi’s hatred as it tried to consume her.  How did one overcome something so potent?

“I remember what it was like to love,” she said.  “But it’s impossible without knowing hatred.  Otherwise, you can’t tell the difference.”  Knowing eyes as verdant as the forests her husband raised for them seemed to look right through him.  “Izuna understood that, and I know you do, as well.”

Tobirama clenched a fist at the memory of his late rival.  His enemy.  The only one who had ever understood him.  Darkness may give light a place to shine, but it can never receive the same courtesy in return.  They’d never needed it, anyway.

“I can’t be Hashirama.  I’ll never be like him.”

“You don’t have to be.  Just don’t forget him.  Any of them.”

How could I?

Mito smiled and rose to leave him in peace, but his voice stopped her.

“He was wrong, you know.  The Uchiha’s curse couldn’t be broken in the end.  That’s why I have to do what I’m doing.”

She watched him with an unreadable look in her eyes.  After all that she’d been through with Madara and Hashirama, he supposed she could understand better than most what it meant to live with a curse.  

“You’re wrong.  You succeeded where Hashirama failed.  Stop blaming yourself for saving him.”

He let her go, too stunned to refute her statement.  He could not, just as he could not bring himself to disdain Uchiha Kagami when he saw so much of his uncle in him.  And he wondered if Izuna had seen Konoha, would he have smiled the way he’d smiled in death?

The sun began its descent toward the horizon.  Soon, the fireflies would be out and children would run through the streets to chase them, their laughter filling the air.  Tobirama would watch from the shadows as he always did.  

“You and I have the best view of the light from where we stand in the shadows.”

He sighed, a smile fighting to spread.  It was easy to imagine Izuna next to him here, his silent companion in the darkness even now.  He never really was alone in the end.

“Yes, we do.”

[falseroar]

Silent Watch Part 1: Mr. Jackson

((Hi! A while back I did a monster hunter/werewolf au with Abe and the District Attorney from WKM, called Silver and Peppermint, which I’ve finally put up over on AO3. Speaking of things I should have done a while ago, I’ve had this story sitting in a file on my computer for...longer than I’d like to admit. I’m planning to post one part a day, and hopefully by the time it’s done I will be finished or close to done with this universe’s version of WKM.

This though is a prequel to Silver and Peppermint, taking place before WKM, before Abe met the DA, before Y/N even was a DA. Before a lot of things. This is the story of how Y/N met an actor, but not the one you’re thinking of, and one terrible night that changed both their lives forever.

If you’ve read Silver and Peppermint or are familiar with the character of Jameson Jackson, you might be able to guess where this is going.

Links to Part 2 , Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, and Part 7.))

The lights strung up all around the field and crisscrossing over the partygoers’ heads provided a soft, uneven glow to everything, but as you went around with tray in hand and a poor attempt at a smile plastered on your face, you noticed more than one of the caterers and locals among the crew looking up at the darkening sky with varying degrees of worry. Despite the many, many reassurances from the town elders and the slightly more flippant response from the assistant director that everything would be fine with the proper precautions, you knew many of your temporary coworkers wished the film crew could have just had their wrap party within the familiar boundaries of the town itself.

“And did it have to be so late?” whispered another caterer when you returned to the staging area for another tray full of ridiculously small appetizers. You recognized him from school; actually, most of the locals hired to fill out the cast and crew while they were filming in and around town were around your age or not much older, and you wondered more than once over the past couple of weeks how many of the others were saving up for similar reasons as your own. “Why couldn’t they just wait until tomorrow afternoon?”

“Because there are some party activities you can only really have fun with after dark,” one of the girls answered with a wink that sent her and a couple of nearby caterers into a giggling fit.

“They’re planning on packing everything up and leaving tomorrow,” you added, once they had calmed down a bit. “I think they’d rather use the daylight to get out of here.”

Your fingertips brushed against the silver chain connected to your belt loop, the other end reaching into your pocket, and you felt a familiar calm settle over you as you added, “We’ll be fine as long as we stay out of the woods tonight. You all know that.”

“You working tomorrow?” asked the first caterer, who seemed visibly surprised when you shook your head ‘no.’ “What, really? You’ve been pulling more shifts than any of us, and still working at the bakery every morning before school, how are you not working the last day?”

You shrug at the sarcasm in his voice, not wanting to admit that you had asked only to be told you needed to choose between working tomorrow or tonight. Apparently, the crew director didn’t believe anyone would show up the next morning after a night shift, and working the party offered the chance for more hours and more pay.

And you needed all the help you could get.

“Do you ever stop and actually have time for, I don’t know, fun Y/N?” asked one of the girls.

“Have you ever even been to a party before?” asked another. “You could always leave your tray with one of us and maybe get to know some of the stars—”

“I’m good,” you interrupted, trying your best to ignore the new round of giggling as you grabbed a ready tray and turned back to face the party.

Most of the people here were part of the crew, faces you had come to know over the past month or so with the occasional name to go with them, but as you threaded your way through the laughing, chatting partyers, you did pass more than one actor or actress who until recently had only existed on a big screen or in a washed out picture in the newspaper. They seemed occupied enough with the drinks and recounting stories to keep the inevitable crowd around them entertained, but the star of the show, of this whole production, was nowhere to be seen among all of the festivities.

That is, until you turned at a call for a new glass and ran straight into him.

Spinach and mushroom puffs tumbled to the grass below and it was all you could do to keep the whole tray from spilling, his hands reaching to help you regain balance.

“Sorry, sorry!”

You were surprised to hear him saying it too, and once sure you were okay his face broke into an open, easy smile.

“Sorry, I can be a bit clumsy. Works out well on the screen, not so much in real life.”

“It was my fault, Mr. Jackson, I wasn’t—”

Your apology, more out of reflex from too much time spent dealing with angry customers in your other job than anything else, was quickly cut short.

“Please, you can call me Jameson, or—”

“Excuse me, Mr. Jackson?”

Jameson Jackson paused, his smile slipping as he glanced at the interrupter. While most if not everyone here that wasn’t working were dressed in comfortable clothes or, like Jameson in his white shirtsleeves and bright blue vest and bowler hat, whatever they had been wearing in the last scenes to be filmed, this guy was dressed up in a suit and tie, as though expecting a more formal party. He also wasn’t anyone you had seen around before, either on set or in town, although Jameson seemed to recognize him.

“I don’t remember inviting you to the party,” Jameson said, his smile more forced now.

“I just need a minute to ask some questions,” the stranger said, his own smile too wide and yet failing to reach his eyes. “Alone, if we can, unless you want to talk here. Although, knowing how rumors spread…”

Jameson narrowed his eyes, not even pretending at a smile anymore. “Especially when they get help from muckrakers.”

The stranger put a hand to his chest with a mocking gasp. “You wound me, Mr. Jackson. My paper only reports the truth, and I just wanted to give you a chance to present your side of things before certain uncomfortable truths hit the page.”

Uncomfortable truths? You look from Jameson to the reporter, wondering if you should say something or back out of this conversation, but before you could make a move either way, Jameson rolled his eyes and spoke.

“Oh, and I’m sure you won’t twist everything around. Again. I’ll give you five minutes, which is five more than you deserve by this point.”

The reporter smiled and followed Jameson’s gesture with a snide, “So kind of you, Mr. Jackson.”

You were curious, of course, but you couldn’t exactly follow them to the edge of the party, away from the music and crowd and just within the circle of lights. Instead, you could only get back to doing your job and serving the other partygoers while trying to avoid running into anyone else who might be less friendly than Jameson.

You were just trying to fake a smile while waiting for the crew director and one of the actresses to choose from the identical puffs on the tray when you heard the gasps and shock ripple out from the other side of the field. The three of you turned in time to see the reporter stumble back, one hand raised to his bloody nose, while Jameson stalked away from the party with shoulders hunched, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“I wonder what that was about,” the actress beside you said as she took a spinach puff from the tray before taking a delicate bite. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jameson that mad, not even when we had to scrap and reshoot a week’s worth of scenes.”

“Is that the guy from The Morrow Gazette? What is he doing here?” asked the crew director, narrowing her eyes as she watched the reporter stumble away in the direction of town. “I told security to keep him away from the set and crew, what are they even doing?”

Drinking a few beers somewhere between here and town, not that you thought you should mention that. Instead, you asked, “Where is Jameson going?”

“Ah, he’ll be fine, he just needs to cool off,” the crew director said, then muttered something under her breath about wishing he’d punched that reporter harder.

The actress glanced at you and lowered her voice, even though you could still clearly hear her ask, “Is it true what they’ve been saying? About the studio being broke?”

“You’re still getting paid, if that’s what you’re worried about,” the crew director answered. “We’ve hit a few snags here and there, but—”

“It didn’t look like he was going toward town,” you interrupted. “Jameson, he has a ward on him, right?”

The worry steadily growing inside you immediately skyrocketed when you saw the blank expressions on their faces, even before the actress asked, “A what?”

She was too stunned for a moment to do anything but take the tray you shoved toward her, her surprised exclamation following behind the crew director’s shout as you turned and took off running.

You bit your lip but kept on running in the direction you last saw Jameson. After all, it was your last night on the job. What were they going to do, fire you?

((Thank you for reading! If you want to be tagged in this, or don’t want to be tagged, just let me know.

Link to Part 2.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate))

[tran5rightsos]

My Systems are Critical

Summary: Luke and Calum meet a friendly gleth on Zsashos V who just wants to help.

Genre: Sci-fi

Relationships: Luke/Client

Word count: 1711

Tags and Warnings: Blood and Gore, Prostitution, Alien Sex, Body Horror, Angst

Leave Kudos?

“Fuck, you’re big,” Luke whined desperately.

It was basic, but the quovroli seemed to like it anyway, grunting proudly as they fucked Luke into the bed. They panted, showing off wickedly sharp teeth and a pointed tongue. Luke could feel their hot breath on his chest, their claws on his thighs, and if he’d known the fear of being eaten by a client was this fucking good, he would have offered his services to quovroli a long time ago.

Even without the unfortunate reputation the human meat trade gave them, this quovroli was a surprisingly good fuck. Luke had had his fair share of prehensile dicks and aphrodisiac cum, but there was a simplicity in just getting fucked hard that he liked.

The quovroli’s grip on his thighs tightened, claws digging in painfully. Luke gasped and let go of the bedsheets to jerk himself off. He vaguely thought that he should remind the quovroli to be gentler, but he was so close.

As he came, so did the quovroli, growling and shoving into him one last time. Panting, Luke felt the whitenoise slowly fade from his head and he watched them pull out, realising that he was bleeding where their claws had been holding him. Oops.

The quovroli leaned down and Luke watched with bated breath as they drew their tongue up his inner thigh, along the wounds their claws had left.

“Relax,” they laughed as they straightened up, “I’m not gonna eat you. Just wanna know what you taste like.”

Luke exhaled and sat up, pulling his pearlescent white shirt back onto his shoulders and doing up two buttons. His wristcom, a sleek silver band he’d treated himself to when his old one finally kicked the bucket, beeped with the credit transfer tone and he checked it to see the rest of the quovroli’s payment and a surprisingly good rating, given that Luke had mostly just laid there while the quovroli did all the actual work. They must have appreciated the post-orgasm snack.

“I’ll be back,” the quovroli promised, eyeing the mess between Luke’s legs satisfactorily.

“Anytime.”

As they left, Luke got up and smoothed out his skirt. It would need a clean, but would be fine until he got home. He’d be wearing his coat over the top of it anyway, so it wasn’t like anyone would notice anything they couldn’t smell already.

Once he’d cleaned up a bit, Luke let his human friend, Calummintha, know that he was on his way home. Calum tended to worry for his safety, which made Luke feel just a little bit guilty about some of the clients he chose, but he liked the element of danger too much to stop allowing them.

Calum replied that he’d meet him on the way there and Luke headed out. He found Calum at the marketplace they often frequented, snacking on something smoky-smelling as he waited.

“How was work?” Calum asked, eyes falling and widening, “Shit, are you okay?”

Luke looked where Calum was staring, at the blood running down his legs.

Luke groaned and lifted his coat and skirt just enough to see the wounds. “Shit.”

They were deeper than he’d thought. Probably still not enough to be dangerous, but they weren’t going to close on their own.

“I was gonna clean them up when I got home…”

“Luke,” Calum snapped, “What the fuck happened?”

“Are you okay?” someone else asked.

Luke looked up at the gleth that had stopped to stare. Even being over a head taller than Calum, he still didn’t match the height of any mature gleth.

He lowered his skirt. “Yeah, they’re not as bad as they look. I can close them at home.”

“They should be checked for infection,” the gleth fretted, “I have specialised equipment for humans at base camp.”

Luke shared a look with Calum. Normally he wouldn’t go to a client’s home, but it might be okay if Calum stayed with him. If this gleth really did just wanna help, Luke could possibly get a lot of credits out of them and whoever else was at their base camp. Hopefully they had plenty of Storm so he wouldn’t get tired.

“Okay.”

The gleth’s antennae lifted happily. “I’m Kakkin. What are your names?”

“I’m Tekka.” Luke never gave clients his real name.

“Daxun,” Calum said, apparently coming up with a fake name on the spot.

Although Luke was willing to walk, Kakkin looked scandalised by the suggestion and begged to be allowed to carry him there. Luke immediately switched into poor injured human mode and said that he was feeling lightheaded from seeing all that scary blood. Although Calum rolled his eyes hard, Luke would play into whoever Kakkin wanted him to be and he had to admit that he liked that they kept patting his head and telling him it was gonna be okay as they headed for their base camp.

Their camp was only a few corridors away from the marketplace, what looked like a collection of life pods surrounded by temporary fencing with some kind of logo printed on it, though the pods were in much better condition than the run-down one Luke and Calum lived in.

“Guards?” Calum observed as they passed the two armed gleth at the gate.

“Zsashos V is a bit… infamous,” Kakkin explained apologetically.

They took Luke and Calum to a large medical pod with green crescents printed on the walls and Luke stared as they went in. A human was inside, cleanly dressed and watching them expectantly. At least three more were lying half submerged in tanks full of greenish liquid on the far corner, making for more humans than Luke had ever seen in one place in his life.

“This is Tekka,” Kakkin told the conscious human as they took Luke to an examination table, and gently set him down, “His legs are bleeding, poor thing. Not badly, but the wounds looked deep.”

“I’m Athiid,” the human told Luke and Calum as she took some insanely clean medical stuff from a shelf.

“Could you open your legs, please?” Kakkin asked, pulling gloves onto two of their hands.

Luke obliged.

Kakkin lifted his skirt enough to see the goods. “Your clothes may get in the way. Would you like some clean undergarments to cover yourself with?”

“That’s okay,” Luke replied as he hopped off the table, unzipped his skirt and pushed it to the floor, giving his freed tail a seductive wiggle.

Calum rolled his eyes.

Kakkin helped Luke back onto the table and used a wet cloth Athiid had brought over in a bowl to dab around the claw wounds. “Can you tell me what made these?”

“Quovroli client.”

Calum frowned deeply.

“They weren’t trying to hurt me,” Luke rushed, “We just got kinda carried away.”

“You’re a hybrid human?” Athiid asked, tapping at a tablet she’d set on the exam table.

“Yeah. Gleth-augmented.”

“And you do sex work?”

“Yeah.”

She nodded. “We’ll check for damage and run some infection tests along with genetics.”

“Oh, I test myself at least every rotation,” Luke assured her, but she was already moving on.

“What about you?” she asked Calum.

Calum answered her questions as Kakkin cleaned and sealed Luke’s wounds. When they were done, they told them to wait while they prepared the tests.

“If you start fucking anyone, I’m leaving,” Calum threatened quietly as Luke pulled on the clothes Kakkin had left him. They were much cleaner than anything he’d ever worn before, even though he took a lot of care in keeping his work clothes tidy.

“I don’t think they want to,” Luke said with a pout, wandering towards the humans in the corner, “Looks like they actually do just wanna help.”

“They could be working for a kitchen,” Calum said lowly, “Speaking of which, why the fuck did you take a quovroli client?”

Luke rolled his eyes, then gasped. “Mikey!” He ran to the nearest tank and stared at the human lying there.

There was a mask with a bunch of tubes attached to machines over his mouth and nose, bandages covered half of his face and it had been longer than Luke could remember, but it was definitely Michael.

“You know that human?” Athiid asked, hurrying over.

“His name’s Yovamaikle.” Luke looked down at his legs. His thighs were almost bone-thin and there was skin missing around the middle of them, almost like a messy strip had been dissolved away, exposing what remained of the muscle underneath. “What happened to him?”

“These three were found in a quovroli kitchen. They were being kept in cloning tanks.”

So it wasn’t just his legs and face. They could have been cutting away and regrowing pieces of him this whole time and Luke had had no idea.

“Luke,” Calum said gently.

“I thought he was dead,” Luke choked out, gripping the edge of the tank.

“We found him,” Athiid assured him, “And he’s doing very well now. How long has he been missing?”

“I don’t know, since we were kids,” Luke told her, tears spilling over.

“He could have memory problems when he wakes up,” Athiid said gently, “But if you knew him and want to assist with his recovery, seeing and talking to you may help.”

“How long will it take?” Luke asked her.

“To fully get his memory back? Could be the rest of his life, if ever.”

Luke sobbed.

“We can get him walking again, though,” she told him, “And we can take all of you to a sanctuary on a gleth planet. You can spend as much time as you need helping him heal and remember there.”

Calum put an arm around Luke. “We’ll think about,” he promised, “This is a lot, though.”

“There’s plenty of time,” Athiid told them as she turned to leave, “If he wants to stay here, we’ll stick around until he’s well enough to survive on his own.”

Luke mashed at his eyes with his palms. “I thought he was dead.”

“Me too,” Calum said quietly as Luke bent down to bury his face in his shoulder, “We’re gonna help him, though, yeah? As much as we can.”

Nodding, Luke peered at Michael again. “Is he gonna remember us?”

Calum squeezed him tighter. “We’ll find out when he wakes up.”

[ayameakuma]

Hi, guys!

So, this is one of my many ideas for fanfics (seriously, they are breeding like rabbits inside my head) and I need your opinion on whether you would like to read something like this (it helps me decide if the fanfic idea is worth it or not when friends or other people give their thoughts on it).

Fair warning: This idea may trigger some people because it involves breaking 2 ships from 2 different fandoms that people like very much from what I have seen. I DO NOT INTENT TO START SOME SHIPPING WAR HERE. If this annoys you or you just don't like it, be polite about it, ok? I cannot control what my anime/cartoon infested brain cooks up for a new fanfic. (GOD KNOWS I have TRIED to control them)

Either way, here is a brief explanation of the idea and some explanation on why I chose the pairing(s):

First off, this is a crossover between Miraculous Ladybug and Soul Eater. Marinette, who at the beginning of the story is a 13 years old girl, is the only daughter of Tom and Sabine Dupain-Cheng. Sabine is a Meister - who is very proficient in wielding a variety of weapons - and Tom is her multi-form weapon. The Cheng Clan is - or better said was - very famous in the world for their weapon wielding abilities and for their assassination capabilities, which some even say that were on par with the Star Clan's.

Marinette, however, was kept away from the weapon/meister world by her parents because they wished she would be able to live the normal life they couldn't. But, that did not last long. Around her 10th birthday, Marinette started exhibiting Meister-like skills, and not normal ones either (you can't convince me that the only ones that show the signs of belonging to one of the side of the spectrum are just the weapon, the meisters must also have like early signs of Awakening as a meister too, right?): heightened sense for danger, her body moving on its own when she feels unsafe/sees someone in need of help, and, the strangest one yet, possessing knowledge of how to use a certain object as a weapon in situations that need such expertise (like, knowing how to and where to wound a wolf with just a throw of a sharp rock/a stab of a pocket knife, in order to protect a classmate of hers). These skills brought her more bad than good. For showing such dangerous skills, she was bullied, called weird or even accused of being a "killer in becoming" (kids are stupid and cruel, let's just leave it at that).

Two years pass, during which her signs of awakening as a Meister become more pronounced. Marinette, who never complained about the bullying to her parents, has had enough and tells them what the kids in her school put her through. Hearing this, Tom and Sabine make their decision and, at the age of 12, Marinette Dupain-Cheng becomes one of the newest students at DWMA.

Here, she meets Adrien Agreste, the son of Gabriel Agreste. Adrien is still a model here and is a weapon. His father, Gabriel, was known as one of DWMA most talented students as a Meister and currently is a top fashion designer, his dream of becoming the Meister that made the next Death Scythe now unattainable due to the premature death of his partner and wife, Emily.

Marinette falls for Adrien, who was LITERALLY the first person - besides her parents - that treated Marinette like a human being and not a ticking bomb in the last 2 years. She decides to become the best Meister she can be and become Adrien's pair and possibly his significant other along the way. Her first female friend in Death City, Alya, supports her with all her might and tried helps Marinette get Adrien's attention. The two are also helped by Nino, Adrien's first friend at DWMA, and Alya's Weapon Partner.

One year later, she finally gathers up her courage to ask him to become a meister-weapon pair with her. Things should go smoothly from here on, right? Wrong. Adrien refuses her and, unknowingly, breaks her heart. Depressed, she ends up crying and questioning her worth over the next week, loosing more and more sleep.

A few days after, she ends up being incredibly late for one class that will have the students make pairs for a "pretend fight" as not only to help them with their partnership (for those who already have partners chosen), but also to observe their performance in a more controlled environment before sending them out to collect the Kishin souls.

Along her there is another student who end up just as late as she is, that student being Soul "Eater" Evans. The two, who never really spoke before (besides the morning greetings or just small insignificant chats) are now put to fight as a Meister-Weapon Pair for this only class.

Durring the class, however, something unexpected happened, and, now, by Lord Death's word, the two have to give their partnership a chance by becoming temporary partners for the rest of the school year. Will Marinette and Soul's partnership end up being a success or an utter failure?

ALRIGHT! So, the above is a short summary of like the first 2 chapters, maybe. And as you can see I already changed a LOT of things from the original setting of Soul Eater. (I have nothing planned on how to input the kwami here but... I WILL come up with something, hopefully) Why? Don't ask me. I have zero ideea how this became a thing in my brain and maybe I will have a more clear idea as to why over time. For now, let's leave that as "it just works and that is it".

Now, as you read I have put Marinette and Soul as a (temporary) Meister and Weapon pair, but their relationship before this arrangement is more inspired from my own life. I basically was in the same class for 1 year with this boy, and, besides the group project and greetings, we have never talked at all. One day we just start talking because we were bored and that boy basically became one of my best friends in like 5 minutes. It is this muted chemistry that only clicks for you once you actually interact with that person in a non-official setting or just happens over the course of the debate of one subject that you both like.

Also, yes, I think that Soul and Marinette will be a good romantic (or maybe platonic) couple too. And since, Soul becomes Marinette's weapon, Adrien becomes Maka's.

Now, to explain why these two Meister-Weapon pairs work:

1.Soul and Marinette (Sonette - the name of the ship - given by my best friend who told me I should post this here)

Due to being bullied, Marinette is very shy in general and the only time she becomes more assertive is during battle, even though the confidence/assertiveness dosen't last long. Remember this is a world in which Mari never got to be Ladybug, and because of this, here she is more meek and dosen't know her own value, nor does she have any self-confidence acquired due to responsibilities such as superheroing or being class president. She also didn't have a lot of friends in school before DWMA, a fact that may end up creating situations in which she is very much overwhelmed because someone did a very nice gesture towards her or she may even end up taking blame for thing that were not her fault at all. As such, someone like Soul, who is confident, could balance out Mari very well, besides the fact that LITTLE MARI NEEDS SUPPORT, GODDAMN IT. She needs someone to reamind her she has worth and get her out of her comfort zone in order to give her a push in a better direction. (In other words: Marinette Protection Squad Assemble!)

As for Soul... well, Soul is stubborn. I think that it will do him well to have someone he needs to look after since it will show Soul's gentle side more. Besides this, Soul is still the same Soul we know and love. Personally, I think that these little changes in a character while still maintaining the canon personality can actually make them seem more alive and it makes character development moments more significant in comparison to the original because we see a new side of that character that the canon did not delve into too much.

2. Maka and Adrien

Look, I love Maka and Soul's dynamics and the same can be said about Mari and Adrien's (if only blondie had a back bone *me being salty about the Lila phases*).

But you can't really say that Maka isn't reckless or that Adrien is not a spineless coward most of the time (hate you too, Gabriel, since it is your fault for this).

Why I think they are good for each other?

Well, Maka could learn to be more attentive towards other people and less reckless. Seriously, there is a fine line between courage and recklessness, and Maka seems to need to learn how to discern between the two. Adrien could be good for this since, in this fanfic, he is more or less naive af and needs to be guided by someone other than his father. Maka, in trying to help Adrien, ends up helping herself to some extent and due to Adrien's stained relationship with his father maybe she will even give her own father, Spirit, a chance to mend their own relationship. (It is just a possibility that I could see after pairing them up)

As for Adrien? Well, in this fanfic idea, at least until Maka gets into his mind, Adrien is not better than a doll for his father to play with. Gabriel controls everything than happens in his life. And since here he is not Chat Noir, the only little escape he has is the school, but even that is conditioned by his grades: "If you do not continue to have exemplary results in your school work, then I see no need for you to continue going there." - Gabriel, at some point in the story probably

His father even chose his own partner based on the level of soul compatibility they have together. Basically, Adrien has no voice of his own.

Maka could help him, simply put because she is reckless. Without Soul there, Maka needs to be told what is a good idea and what isn't, even more so when she is not capable of seeing the answer herself. And so, Adrien has to take a stand and say things with his own mouth. He will end up finding his own voice because he has Maka there. (I low key believe if Marinette was his partner, she will have a lots of problems trying to get Adrien to disagree with her, mainly due to her shyness and feelings for Adrien, but that is just me)

Maka and Adrien even have a similar house situation: they both have only one parent remaining that they dislike (no matter how internalized Adrien's dislike is), but they handle it differently which could be a good influence on the other: while Adrien is obedient to a fault to Gabriel because he wants to please his father in hope that Gabriel won't abandon him for not being enough, Maka defies her father due to her dislike for him and for the fact that he exhibits a perverse behaviour while still saying he is in love with Maka's mom (this pissed me off very much about Spirit but at the same time, give him a chance Maka, look at him; he is pitiful)

And this concludes my rant/ depiction of my fanfic idea.

Again, if you don't like it, that is fine. If you do, that is fine too. I just want to ask you: do you think it is worth writing? Would you read something like this if I did wrote and posted it?

Thank you for your time! Bye!😊