#its BLEAK out here for those of us who want to have even one thing that is going to piss off 'middle america'

[fratboykate]

The idea that you're a working screenwriter or whatever legit terrifies me because that means there's a distinct chance that some of this unhinged chaos could actually exist. Like Flo and Hailee are working actresses; you're a working writer (after the strike, of course); I would die.

Here's the thing with the industry right now: it's in shambles which is exactly why we're wanting to strike. Everything that I want to write about is nothing that the industry wants right now. I want to tell queer stories with queer women of color as leads however all the people heading studios, networks, and streamers right now (both newly appointed and old) have decided that what they want is to "appeal to middle america". It's fucking idiotic because 1) "middle america" is the minority. There's literally more people in California than in a handful of the states they're trying to court combined yet that doesn't seem to matter anymore 2) they're not going to watch your shit. They call you "Hollyweird" and think we drink blood to stay young lol. You're never going to get those people back. Yet somehow, what studios and networks are looking for right now is "The Next Yellowstone" or shit that straight up has NO diversity. They shamelessly are telling us and our reps that in meetings. "If it won't appeal to EVERYONE (meaning the republicans too) we can't get it up the ladder". What they want is content that some racist hick in Arkansas will sit down and watch. This is a true story and it goes against EVERY statistic and study that proves diverse content does better in the box office and with ratings.

But honestly, it's also y'alls fault. You make shows like "The Night Agent" which is the most middle of the road, copaganda shit popular. You claim to be tired of reboots but show up to watch all of it. Those of us who are writing diverse, original content can't sell it because studios have no motivation to buy it or make it. You've given them no reason to. You just made fucking Mario the most successful animated movie of all time so legit brace for every video game ever made to be turned into a movie/series for the next ten years. You're killing us and the industry with your viewing habits because you'd rather hate watch something/make it go viral instead of ignoring it and elevating original content. You have no one to blame but yourselves about the plummeting diversity numbers we're going to see the next few years. In 2022-2023 alone somewhere between 1/3 and 1/2 of all queer characters are from shows that have been cancelled or had their season finales. Those are not going to be replaced with new characters because there is no appetite from the studios or incentive for them to do so. I've been telling you for over a decade that this would happen and you never listened. Now queer writers and writers of color are also paying the price because we can't sell shit. No one wants to buy "diversity" anymore. They've decided there's no money in it and that's a DIRECT result of your viewing habits. I was warning you through the "fuck around" years. Now we're "finding out".

[writella]

just read ‘working it out’ and to say the least it was amazinggg. a pt 2 where they get to finish what they started without the interruption of officer cockblock would be equally amazinggg ! keep up the good work, can’t wait to read more ! ❤️

Hi again, lovely reader! ♡ You’re so sweet and I appreciate you so much!! You and @murdadixon with the sheriff/officer cockblock is still sooo silly and funny, you made me laugh!! Anyway here’s what I got for you, let me know if you like it!

For any new readers, even though I use a line from the previous work and reference it a few times, this can still be read on its own I think, but if you’d like to read that one (Working It Out) there it is!

This includes smut of course— a bit softer than the first part, a relationship confirmation, and Daryl and the reader being totally in love with each other even if they don’t say it; such cuties.

Two weeks have passed. Another fourteen days of walking, and walking, and walking. Eating plants and berries deemed as safe, and those where few and far between. Not to mention, the amount that each of you shared evenly when you found something could be counted on your fingers— it was practically nothing.

You guys needed to find a cabin again, or get back to the towns, maybe find a house or supermarket or drugstore. You were so deep in the wilderness.

That car Rick and Michonne found didn’t take you any far. All of you couldn’t fit in it, anyway. Each of you took turns riding and sitting in it, trying to find a new place to camp in. You did this for six days until the car gave out.

Despite the lush greenery that surrounded you, it was needless to say that this had been a more than bleak half of a month.

Daryl brought the color back to you, just a little at least. He would always opt to stand and walk closer to you and the group as you all continued your trek; and he’d even offer you a little of his food sometimes, although you always refused— “we all need to stay alive right now,” you’d whisper, “but you’re sweet.” You couldn’t tell if it made him smile or blush or not, but part part of you wondered; he didn’t look you in the eye, and that usually meant there was something there he didn’t want you to see. And there was always the way you would feel his hand on your back at times, pushing you forward when the endless walking slowed you down to exhaustion. He always gently guided you to keep moving.

His silent kindness was so tender, so needed.

But he was still quiet, and in some ways, you couldn’t even blame him. It’s just who he is; and it’s sort of who you all were becoming right now. There was nothing to talk about unless it had to do with food, a plan to find shelter, or killing walkers that got in the way. And with all of you together all the time, there really wasn’t a moment to talk about the state of your relationship, but your mind kept rewinding and turning over with his previous words, I’ll kiss you like this anywhere… Any way you want. You longed for the day that this would be true. If these words were food, they were the only thing sustaining you; it was the only thing good to think about at all.

A few more days had past until you finally caught a break. You saw Rick starting to run as he shouted Carl’s name. He was running ahead of him, “I think I see something!” Carl told the group.

It was a barn. Completely desolate, the wooden walls almost looked unstable, but there was a roof. It was a place to sleep. At least for the night.

“Thank God.” Gabriel’s exhale matched the whirling wind as he said it, it was a true release; a relief. Some may not have had the same beliefs as him or thought the barn was anything that special, but no one disagreed. The barn door had a latch and a couple of blankets someone must had left. As little as it was, it was something to be just the littlest bit thankful for after sleeping on the dirt with nothing for what felt like ages.

As night rolled in, you were lucky enough to get a corner spot. It was one of the ones that was closest to the door. You had taken care of Judith during the day, so you had sat there most of the time trying to keep her quiet and entertaining her. You even got to take a nap when she did. She was so warm, it was nice. You almost felt sad when Rick relieved you of her, but because of it you offered to take first watch, knowing you were more rested than the others.

Your stuff was still in place, but you moved closer to the door, using the slit between the door and the rest of the wall as a peephole to look through when you remembered or when you heard any strange.

Daryl moved himself to your spot. The barn was dark, but you could tell it was him based on how he walked. He took his steps with the sway of his hips, his feet heavy as they tapped on the ground when he didn’t care if he was seen or not, different from when he hunts.

He put his stuff down in the corner with yours and right when you thought he was probably going to lay down himself, he comes up to you.

“Daryl, sleep.” It was a soft demand.

“Can’t.” He said simply, moving closer to the door to sit with you. He was so close that your arms and knees touched. You took the opportunity to rest your head on his shoulder even if it wasn’t an invitation. He doesn’t protest. His head lightly rests on yours actually.

“It’s so cold,” you whisper, taking the sheet off your legs, it was so thin, it did nothing, and the cracks between the old barn’s wooden panels didn’t help either, the wind seeping through much stronger as the night went on.

Daryl rubbed his hands on your lower leg— the calf, heating it up until one of his hands rests on your knee, the action made you laugh lightly. It was a kind attempt. Then, his hand started lowering to your inner thigh. It was just to the middle of it. It didn’t have to be anything more if you didn’t want it to be, it could have just been a gentle hand, trying to warm you up, though you couldn’t help but to let yourself close the gap between your legs; allowing him to heat you in a different way. Slowly, he pushed his hand further down.

Once he reached your center he turned his palm inward, his fingers pressing into you over your jeans. You rocked up to him, closing your eyes, turning you head away from him as your breathed in sharply. You were quiet, other than your exhales that came out of your nose, but you tried for them to sound as small and short as you could.

One of your knees caved inward to build upon the pressure, trying to lock his hand in further. He dipped his hand into your pants without even unbuttoning them, stretching the denim to fit his thick fingers beneath. He started to slide his middle finger through your wetness until it found your hole and he slide right in, circling while his palm rubbed against you on top. It made you reach out for his shoulder tightly.

“Daryl,” your whisper was piercing as you gasped. “Can we go outside?”

He nodded to you, though you could only see it slightly through the darkness of the barn. You eyes widened as he unexpectedly picked you up, it was a wordless and soundless motion. He opened the latch of the barn, taking you to the outer back side, then gently placing you on feet.

Your eyes matched the stars of the sky. Was this finally going to happen? Everyone was asleep, or so it seemed. No one else was around…

The realization made you notice how big he was in that moment: his broad shoulders and arms, his hands, his bulge… it makes you look back up at his face again right when you reach it. You stand there for a moment, you eyes fixed on him, the limitless sensation of right now overwhelming you until— instinct kicks in, your actions, almost animalistic. You were so used to respecting this blurred-line-friendship you didn’t know what he would think to see you so eager, so desperate again, but your shirt and bra and pants come off immediately. You wanted him. So bad.

If you all died tonight it was your fault. You were doing a horrible job at keeping watch, but your mind was absolutely elsewhere that you didn’t even think of it.

You look up at him as you continue and notice he is repeating your actions at the same force, it makes you smile excitedly, it was comforting as much as it was so, so dirty. Here you were, starting to have sex outside… again. Was this you? Maybe for Daryl. No, definitely for Daryl.

You instantly put your hands on his chest and abdomen when he was done undressing and you kiss him, it’s just in the way you’ve always wanted to, the way you’ve dreamed about.

His hands goes to your waist as you do so and one of them travels farther to your ass, pressing on it as he pushes you up to his height. Your hands go over his shoulder and you’re on your toes to help.

He gently pushes you toward the wall and you slide down on it, you could get splinters but you’re not thinking, you don’t care. There is only him right now, there is only finally getting to touch him right now.

You lay yourself on the ground and he goes above you. Neither of you even think about him touching you more to get you more wet as you see him hardened, as you see him throbbing. It makes you throb. It makes you whine.

His actions say don’t worry, as he kisses your chest between your breast once before he slowly pushes into you, watching himself go in. Enjoying the way it looks as he bottoms out until he’s hovering over you, closer now. He kisses you quickly on the lips before starting to thrust and moving in, and out, and in, in, in. “Mmmm.”

Then he exhales, a breathy sigh, and you do to. So good, you think, “So good” you sigh out. “Thank you.” You stroke his hair.

“It feels really good,” he agrees. You’ve never seen him be so soft, it makes you giggle. You like this side of him.

You hand travels from his hair, to his neck and down to his back. Your other hand comes to his back to match and your knees move forward around him as well. You are light with your touches, you’ve yet to touch his back almost at all before, especially not like this.

“I want to make you come,” he says lowly, it’s almost comical how genuine and sincere he means it, but he does. His voice soft despite its rasp.

“You can,” you reassure; you’re so sure, in fact. You’ve wanted this forever.

He starts to speed up, but it’s more of a deep and full explosion of movements than it is a hard and fast one. You feel it everywhere, it feels like this perfect balance between sex for lust and sex for showing his love. Your moan sounds beautiful, it sounds like finally. He loves it.

His head goes into your neck and both your mouths are open, you’re both panting, you’re both smiling, you’re both happy. So happy and feelings so good that you want it to last forever.

Your eyes open and you see the stars again. They match the stars in your eyes, you can’t tell which are real and which are fake or if you’re seeing anything that’s real at all right now. You don’t even know if this is a hunger ridden hallucination as you see a star shoot across the sky and feel it right at the bottom of your stomach as you both come undone. It’s the first time you’ve felt complete.

He colapses onto you now, you feel all his weight and you don’t care. His forehead is on yours and you hold the sides of his face. It feels infinite.

You don’t know how much or how little time passes until you hear, “So, that’s you keepin’ watch, kid?” The sound make Daryl’s head go up and your hands go straight to your head. Why is it always the leader of your group to find you like this?

“Why you always watching?” Daryl finds your shirt and puts it over your head again before he tries to cover himself up.

“Just came out to use the bathroom, Daryl.”

As Rick started walking to a tree, his smirk is still firmly placed he says, “I’m sure you two tired yourselves out, I’ll take watch for now.” He looked back, knowing you were clothed now, smiling directly at you, “Goodnight.” The look was almost actually sincere. If he did see anything, maybe he knows it wasn’t what he saw last time… at least not entirely.

As you see his body move out of sight, Daryl turns to you, “You need to stop gettin’ embarrassed by him.” He finishes putting on the rest of his clothes, leaving his vest on the ground, and he brings you closer to him, leaning you two against the barn wall. You nod you head, acknowledging his words and his arms go around your shoulder and you melted into it. The cold air finally getting to you again as the heat of the moment passes and your flushed face starts to fade.

You look up at him from his shoulder, “Daryl?”

“Yeah,” he saw your mouth slightly open, the words were on your tongue and he knew it, but you weren’t speaking. “Say it.”

“Are we… are we an us?” You were still too scared to use the words you truly wanted, you opted for being as vaguely specific or specifically vague as possible, “Am I… Am I- your- person.”

He looked at your eyes that were below his head, “I think you have been. All this time.” You noticed his lips twitching into a smile, but trying to keep them down, to keep them neutral. It’s hard, you make him happy even when he doesn’t want to show it. Even though it’s hard for him to show it to other people. Even though he’s terrified of how vulnerable you make him.

“I just don’t want to have to guess.”

“Well then you don’t gotta anymore… I’ll make sure you don’t have to. We’re together,” he shrugs, “We’ve always been.”

He kisses you now, fully this time, holding your cheek as he does so. It’s the light and soft way, but also the deep way; it was both the ‘anywhere’ and ‘any way you want’ way. You hold his face in return, accepting his words, accepting it all. If anyone else where to come out they would see that truly your lips weren’t the ones in action, but your two hearts drumming into each other, wordlessly saying everything: I’m yours and you’re mine. It’s always been like this.

that unconfirmed possible voyager!rick(???) surprise SHAWTYY jfdjfj anyway, thank you for reading!!!!! ♡ ♡ ♡

[pauking5]

Addicting Taste Chapter 8

Synopsis: Enishi Yukishiro was on a mission to execute his piece de la resistance. A plan to avenge his beloved sister. Until you showed up. Will you be a part of his downfall or will you try to save him?

Pairing: Enishi Yukishiro x reader

Genre: strangers to lovers, sunshine and sunshine protector, comedic relief, angst, slow burn, some fluff

Word count: 14k+

A/N: Welp, she's a long one but she's a good one. It could be taken as a filler but she's important to the story so I hope it's not too much of a nuisance read. Also, give a big welcome to none other than Sword Hunter, Cho Sawagejo. He was so bleak in the story it took me this long just to rewrite his character. He's important to the story so take this as his introduction! Chapter 9 is coming too and she's wild. Enjoy lovelies, Paula.

Now Playing: beating heart - ellie goulding.

Previous

"Miyu?"

No fucking way.

Is this some sick joke?

Of all people, he wasn't supposed to be here.

"Cho?"

Cho Sawagejo. Known as the Sword Hunter and one of the former Ten Swords, used to fight against the Meiji government. Additionally, he was an old friend of yours... sort of. The fact that history ran deep between you two was the understatement of the century.

Your hand froze on the golden doorknob, mouth hung open in shock to see him after all these years. Memories of him fired one after another in your head the more you looked at him, including those you tried really hard to forget. Your mouth moved on its own trying to make some sense of what you were seeing, but all that came out was whispers of his name. A name you wanted to forget for as long as you lived.

Snapping out of it you noticed he seemed to be in a bit of a situation, which was something normal for him, considering how you met each other.

4 years ago

Life was a constant fight for survival. You escaped the fighting rings in Edo but you did so at the cost of having to fend for yourself in the only way you knew: killing.

A rookie assassin, with barely enough training, murdering to stay alive. You barely got hired because your face said you didn't have experience like others did. But once they saw what you could do with two pistols and a heart that was hungry for mayhem they instantly hired you.

As much as you wanted to do something else with your life, you couldn't. You lived with the sole goal of finding your parents, even if it meant destroying your soul in the process.

There were times where your appetite got insatiable and you killed more than you needed to. It was where Barairo got her reputation from, Yokohama's crimson rose turning into a twisted bloodthirsty demon.

The only advantage of letting her out was that it made getting some of the jobs done easier. Though the stench of her blood soaked claws haunted you every night together with your usual nightmares.

You worked on yourself trying to limit her vengeful spirit so you could focus properly on missions. Little by little, she retracted back in her cage and all that was left was you. A woman so sure of herself that nothing could stop her.

Until you met him and all of that went to shit.

You got the job to kill a really well-known conman who got on the nerves of the wider business community in Osaka. He stole a lot of money from them and it was to no surprise most of them wanted his head on a pike. Multiple people got hired starting a hunt for him but there was a catch. Whoever got the job done first was rewarded with half of the stolen money. You had to move fast if you wanted to be first. Because you wanted it badly.

The plan was simple: get in his highly secured villa, put a bullet through his skull and be on your way. But things didn't work exactly like you wanted them to.

Come on now, did they ever? It's a Miyu Hikari tradition at this point.

You staked out the man's mansion for a full 24 hours under the scorching heat of the summer sun. Every time you wanted to go in and get the job done, a flurry of guards would round the grounds and you had to move spots constantly. Sweat trickled down your back in waves, clothes drenched to the brim from just sitting in the bushes. Summer was definitely not your favorite season, especially when you had jobs like this to do.

Finally, when the night let out you managed to advance. Infiltrating inside was a fluke, easily taking out the small number of guards on night duty. Checking for any more of them in all rooms at the bottom floor, you made your way to the top floor where his master bedroom was located. Getting a little distracted by completing the mission, bags of steaming dumplings occupying your mind more than the mission at hand, you failed to see the incoming competition.

You just rounded the top of the stairs when something clanged against the window behind you. You turned around in a heartbeat, guns held out ready to pull the triggers. Intuition told you to put multiple holes through whoever it was until you got a better look at him.

There he was, one leg in and two sharp katanas held between his teeth, trying to balance his way inside the mansion. You lowered your weapons as your curiosity piqued by the man before you. You retracted to a dark corner away from his line of sight, silently snickering at his struggle. The moment he finally got himself through the threshold and thudded to the floor making the loudest noise possible triggered a fit of giggles from you you couldn't keep inside anymore. If the guards were still alive and breathing they would have had his ass so fast.

Once he heard you, he got back to his feet and made quick movement to hold one of his katanas to your throat. You stopped laughing and put your hands up in fake surrender deciding to mock him a little.

"Who are you?"

"Someone on the same mission as you. You're kinda late to the party though."

Seeing as you weren't too much of a threat, he put down his sword. He cleared his throat to sound more sure of himself than he appeared to be and smoothed a hand over his hair that was sat in all directions, including his mouth. He looked harmless without his katana unsheathed. If this was your competition you surely held yourself a lot better in the short time you've been working the field.

"Thank you for the clean up, but I'll take it from here."

I just gave you the benefit of the doubt dude. Turns out I was wrong.

"I think the fuck not."

Pointing your pistols his way, you got ready to defend your territory. There was no way you would let this rando of all people steal your moment after you did most of the work.

He flashed you a smirk and in the blink of an eye vanished. Confused, you spun around to see the door to the master bedroom opened. It was way too dark but once your eyes focused on the shadow lurking above the man tucked in bed with his katanas ready to slice him open, you panicked. Thinking fast you aimed at the man the best you could in the pitch black, using the glimmer of light reflecting off the blade as guidance and took the shot. One of the blades intercepted your bullet just before it could hit the man, cutting it in half, leftover pieces of the bullet flying into the bed frame. You gasped in shock as he chuckled darkly.

"Nice try."

Beyond annoyed at him and determined to see this mission through, you put the guns back in their hold and got into a fighting stance.

"I was here first. I am not moving an inch before I kill him," you rasped.

He smirked and sheathed his sword, walking closer to you and mirroring your position.

"Fair enough. Let's see if you've got any real fight in you."

He went easy on you, thinking you couldn't fight him.

Terrible mistake.

The minute he came at you, you sent him flying to the other corner of the room, watching as his back hit a dresser tumbling down to the floor with him. He got up and lunged at you and you dodged all of his moves. When his punches got sloppy, it was your turn to swing at him, decorating his face with your fists. At one point your hits turned slower and he managed to lay down a few punches of his own. He caught you off guard and pushed you into the wall, hands digging hard into your arm as he pinned you to it. Amused at your struggle to break free, his head dipped down to your ear.

"Is that all you've got, princess?"

"Don't call me that ever again."

He pissed you off beyond coming back now. You growled and threw your head into his with all the force you had, throwing him off balance enough for him to release you and to drop down and swipe his legs from under him. As soon as he was flat on the ground you straddled him, pining his hands beside his head.

Trying to will some breath back into your lungs you looked at him and he looked at you for a while, taking in the damage you've both done to each other. One looked worse than the other, a broken nose gracing his face as payback for the cut lip he gave you.

His dark eyes had you in a trance. There was something about him that screamed danger but familiarity the more you looked at him. A weird feeling crawled up your spine and you couldn't help the sensation that something was really wrong. Snapping out of it, you straightened and got up from the floor, looking around at the mess you've caused. You wondered why the man wasn't awake and screaming for mercy or applauding the free fight show in his bedroom. You moved to the king sized bed in spite of the protests to continue the fight and examined the man tucked into bed. You pulled the duvet down from his face and the marks around his neck told you all you needed to know.

"Someone got the job done before us."

"What?"

He ran next to you following your pointed finger to the neck of the man who appeared to have been dead for a while. How did none of you notice this before?

"The guards were pretty much alive when I arrived. Whoever killed him must have been waiting for him here."

You pulled the curtains near the window so the light could filter in a little more. Truthful to your suspicion, there were no signs of forced entrance on the window sill or the door, so it had to be a job from the inside. Main conclusion was that you were left with a busted ego and you could kiss your precious dumplings goodbye for a while.

"Well, that's a bummer," he said, slumping against the wall. At least you weren't the only one disappointed.

"We should leave before more potential suitors want to decorate him and us as collateral damage."

You made a move for the door only to hear shouts and multiple pairs of boots rushing up the stairs.

We're in deep shit.

Closing the door, you tried to pull the wardrobe in front of it to block the men from entering. It was too heavy to push by yourself so he moved to help you. You successfully barricaded yourselves inside just as angry fists started banging on the door. You moved away from it and scanned the room for a way out. The big double window looked like the only viable option. You hesitated in even suggesting it as an escape route but he seemed to have other plans as you watched him run over to it and bust it open with a chair. Shards of glass flew everywhere on the floor and the banging on the door intensified. You rushed to the window where you were met with a five meter drop to a patch of grass smaller than your hopes and dreams at the moment.

Hell no, nuh-uh. I'm not playing the flying bird game.

He was out of his fucking mind if he thought that was a safe plan, but before you could say anything he just jumped out first with his katanas strapped to his back, swiftly landing on his feet. Your jaw dropped open.

Okay, so he is indeed out of his fucking mind.

He looked back at you, waiting for you to follow, but the way you gripped the curtains told him you weren't keen on jumping too. He couldn't leave you there when there was no telling how many men were behind that door that was now close to being torn open.

"Look, I know you don't know me, but I need you to trust me and jump the fuck out," he yelled at you, trying to get your attention away.

"You want me to trust you in willingly pivoting down to my death?"

"It sounds horrendous when you put it that way. I promise I will try to catch you."

Putting my life in the hands of a stranger who tried to kill me just a few moments ago? Not a chance. But I want to taste my favorite buns again, alive and breathing on this earth.

Getting on top of the windowsill, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, jumping out. Truthful to his promise, he caught you, falling down on the grass with you in his arms. He cushioned your fall and your head landed in the crook of his neck, his scent closing around you. He smelled like vanilla and lavender. The way he cushioned your fall made you think you were laying in a field of flowers but that might have just been the euphoria from the fall, pumping adrenaline through you.

You opened your eyes to be nose to nose with him, breaths meeting halfway. Through the messy blonde hair falling over his bandana, you noticed his eyes were actually a deep shade of brown as they bore into yours. You lifted your hand to brush his locks away halting when you heard more shouts and commotion behind you. Quickly, you got up and pulled him up too, bolting towards the gates. His hand intertwined with yours as you both ran until you reached town.

Finally stopping at the back of a shop you checked around for any sight of the men following, relieved to see none. You closed your eyes willing in a breath when you felt something weighing down your hand. You looked down and he followed your gaze to your hands that were still tightly locked together. He let go first, rubbing his neck nervously.

That's cute.

His touch ghosted on your finger tips and you cradled your hand close. You've never been this close to anyone before.

"That was eventful," he exhaled.

"Yeah. Thanks for catching me back there, uh..."

"It's Cho. And of course! Anytime, uh..."

"Miyu."

"Miyu," he said your name softly. "Well, Miyu, if you ever find yourself in a pickle or something like that again feel free to call on me."

He smiled genuinely at you this time, previous cocky smirk gone. It made you feel warm inside for some reason but you quickly shook that thought away.

"I'll make sure to call on you then."

A lot of time passed after your encounter. Summer turned to fall and winter. There were times where you laid awake at night and your mind drifted to him, contemplating his offer. He shouldn't be that hard to find if need be to have him help on a mission and it felt tempting to team up with someone else, especially since your fighting styles were so similar.

You finally met again a few times after you were both hired on other missions. You fought your way out of them together, often splitting the earnings. It turned out you made a really good team, your logical skills complementing his sword skills just right.

You started hanging out more and paired most of your missions together, getting to know more about each other. Soon enough, he turned into a part of your routine and you were inseparable, both on and off the field. You ate together, fought together and trained together.

He opened up about himself too. He told you why the Ten Swords fell to their demise with the new government and how he was left wandering for a while until he took up sketchy jobs like you. You told him a little about yourself and your mission to find your parents. He thought it was admirable to have a goal like that and eished he himself had one that righteous.

Over time, one thing led to another and you found yourself catching feelings for him. It was stupid really. He did the smallest things, like throwing you one of his crooked smiles full of mischief whilst stabbing someone who tried to attack you or getting you dumplings because he knew how much you liked them. You even started liking the annoying way in which he called you princess instead of your name, reatliating with a nickname of your own for him, blondie.

All these gestures were small, but you couldn't deny that they made you swoon. Your feelings only grew stronger the more you spent time with him and it took everything in you to work out the courage to confess to him.

But you never got to tell him how you felt.

And it was all his fault.

You spent years thinking of what you would say if you ever saw him again, only for all those words to erase themselves from your mind the minute you laid your eyes on him tonight.

He was tied to a chair in the middle of the room. A man sat in front of him most likely torturing him up to the moment you and Enishi entered. He was now turning around to you with a big knife in his hand, blood dripping from the blade onto the white carpet. You interrupted him and he didn't seem too happy about it because he quickly lunged at you. You wasted no time in kicking away the knife from his hand and knocking him out with a roundhouse kick.

"Fancy seeing you here, princess."

You sure didn't miss that nickname. As much as it grew on you back then, it made you beyond disgusted to hear it now.

"I wish I could say the same. Who did you piss off this time?"

"A lot of people as you can see," he spoke motioning to his body littered in cuts and bruises.

His white shirt, now a mix of dried blood and dirt, was torn in most places, just like his skin. Your eyes lingered over the cuts on his arms that appeared to be made with small knives. Your gaze stopped on the gash on his leg which was definitely the product of the knife you kicked away from the man's hand. It looked deep enough to drain a normal person.

But he wasn't a normal person.

"I hate to break up this reunion but we have more guests incoming," said Enishi rather alarmed. And he had every reason to be because you heard the rapid footsteps in the hallway most likely rushing to the room you were in. His hand latched on your arm in urgency to pull you towards the door but you froze.

"This feels oddly familiar," said Cho with a chuckle.

His face was so pale and devoid of colour that it scared you. He looked barely alive but he still carried that shit-eating grin on his face and it annoyed you to the world's end for some reason.

"Miyu, we have to go," pressed Enishi.

You looked at him then back to Cho. It wasn't in your nature to leave people behind, especially wounded people. Both of the men looked at you expectantly, one more desperate to get out of there than the other.

I can't leave him here. But I can't stay here either.

Your brain was already working at an inhumane speed trying to process everything. Once you made your mind up and opened your mouth to say something you got interrupted by the men pooling inside the room.

About ten of them circled you, lining up around the walls to push you towards the center of the room. You surrounded Cho defensively. He was tied to a chair and in no way fit to fight even a fucking fly. As much as you hated his guts you needed to protect him.

You pulled out your guns and scanned the men to see only half of them were armed. You looked at Enishi and he nodded at you telling you to open fire.

You shot at the armed men while Enishi launched at the others. You threw a table down and took cover behind it, shooting at them. You took out most of them before you ran out of bullets.

Oh, for fucks sake, I really need to carry refills with me.

You got out from behind your hiding spot and stretched your arms, preparing your fists.

Your first opponent was a fairly big guy that cornered you at a wall. He came at you with the intention to put you through the wall, but you were quicker and grabbed his hands, sliding between his legs to drag him after you. You kicked the back of his head and he fell forward, his own head going through the wall instead.

Another one spotted you and you broke into a sprint, using the wall to push yourself up and swing your leg in his face. He fell on his back getting the air kicked out of his lungs. It was one fo the aerial tricks Enishi taught you recently and it came in handy.

Enishi left a trail behind him. Most of the men on the floor were just slightly knocked out. He finished knocking the last two head to head and let them fall to the floor with a thud.

Seeing that he was safe, you turned and ran to Cho, untying him as fast as you could. The rope around his wrists was tied so tight it made them bleed. You stopped in your tracks slowly tracing your fingers over them. What the hell did they do to you? You bit your lip trying to keep yourself together. This was not the time to be soft.

"You don't have to take me with you," he grunted as you got his hands free. "I'll only slow you down."

You went and crouched in front of him looking him straight in the eye. The you back then told you to leave him here to suffer like he did to you. To let him get out of his own mess by his own two feet if he still held himself so prideful. But present you was not the like her.

He didn't deserve your help at all. But you knew the guilt coming with leaving him here would eat you up later. And you didn't need that right now.

Without saying a word, you got one of his arms and draped it around your shoulders to get him up. He groaned in pain when he put weight on his injured leg and you wrapped your arm around his waist to balance him better.

Did he get ripped or something? I swear he wasn't this heavy before.

Enishi looked at you nothing short of confused. His face told you he had a lot of questions. But yours looked conflicted to the point he was sure a hurricane was already brewing in your mind. He knew now was not the time for asking questions, considering there were five mafias willing to shish kebab the three of you without as much of a reason besides the fact that you breathed inside their territory. Getting out of this place as soon as possible was the priority.

He rushed to the other side of Cho and lifted his arm, helping you carry him. You looked at him and he locked eyes with you, reassuring you he had your back. Even if he had no idea what the fuck was going on. You sent him a grateful look and he nodded, a small smile of acknowledgment on his lips.

The three of you managed to slip out the back of the villa and you quickly got into the carriage, avoiding being seen by anyone. The ride back to the mansion turned from relief to utterly painful. For both you and the blonde bleeding out next to you. You kept patting his cheeks to keep him awake every time his head fell on your shoulder. Once you were sure he was conscious enough, you turned your head to the window getting lost in thought.

Cho being back resurfaced so many feelings and memories you tried so hard to drown out over the years and you could do nothing to stop the flood.

Screw me for wanting to help all the time. It only comes back to bite me in the ass anyways.

Another thing weighing hard on your heart was that you didn't find your mother tonight. Or any leads on where your parents could be. Oh, and apparently the man you interrogated, the one who was the only one who knew something about the whereabouts of your parents escaped, since most of the men on duty were mobilised for the ball in case shit went sideways. Conclusion, it was by far the shittiest you've ever felt.

The carriage stopped in front of the mansion and Enishi got down first holding his hand to you to help you down. But you were too worried about the other man bleeding on the beige carriage seats and got down by yourself, dragging him down after you.

Enishi was left behind as you hastily went inside. A weird combo of regret and sadness were spinning around his heart at everything that happened tonight. He knew you probably felt defeated about what went down and blamed yourself for the outcome. He needed to talk to you asap about everything. For now, he was going to give you the space you needed for a while to tend to your guest.

With a storm raging in your mind and a bleeding man supported solely by your shoulders, you trudged the hallways to an empty guest room. You found one two doors down from your room, in case he needed further assistance.

You pushed the doors open with a huff and helped him sit downon the bed, rushing to look for medical supplies. You scoured every drawer both in the room and the bathroom throwing everything on the floor in the process. You were growing anxious and angry at the fact that you didn't find anything you needed. Taking a deep breath to calm yourself you tried looking again through the mess on the floor and found what you needed. Chucking everything back to its place with shaky hands, you went back to him to start taking care of his wounds. You felt his stare at you as you started working on the cut on his cheek.

"It's good seeing you after all these years."

You say that as if we're the best of friends who went our own ways and just met up to talk over tea and biscuits.

You ignored his attempt at making conversation and helped him shimmy his way out of his shredded shirt as he grunted at the movement. He was held captive for a while, judging by the darkened bruises around his ribs.

"You look different," he continued, trying to get you to talk to him.

You tensed as you moved to patch up the bigger cuts on his arm.

What does different even mean in his vocabulary?

You didn't change that much. If anything you got better at detecting bullshit when you saw it. Looks wise you just looked better in the mirror and didn't have a bird's nest on your head anymore.

On the other hand, he looked absolutely the same as the last time you saw him, with a slight upgrade to his wardrobe choices, plus a few muscles here and there. His hair was a darker shade of blonde now, unfitting for the nickname you used to call him by.

"Is that a good or a bad thing?" you asked absentmindedly, trying to humour him for the sake of conversation and to take the edge of a little.

He dipped his head down to the side you were patching his arm and took a proper look at you.

You were different since the last time he saw you.

Your hair was longer, curling around your shoulders ever so slightly. You held yourself a lot more confidently than he knew you to be. But the thing that changed the most about you was your eyes. He used to be able to tell what was going through your head by just one look. Now, they were rougher and didn't let him in like they used to. It wasn't that you were hiding. You just closed yourself off entirely, at least to him.

"That wild spark in your eyes is gone. That's what I liked the most about you."

You narrowed your eyes at him and it took everything in your power not to snap at him. Tell him everything that's been weighing on your heart. Shoot words at him hoping he would understand the pain he put you through. But you had to keep it together so you settled for some sarcasm as you tied one of the bandages a bit tight on his arm.

"So what? I'm not to your standards now?"

The big gash on his leg was the last thing left unbandaged and you moved to it to get it done and be out of the door. But god forbid something could go the way you wanted today because he leaned forward to catch your hand.

The sharp inhale of air you took was to ground you from exploding. You noticed his touch was still the same one that used to make you shiver with butterflies.

Cho was a touchy person and it only added to your feelings back then. It made your insides twist remembering the effect it had on you.

"That's not what I meant."

You tried to avoid his eyes but you couldn't do it, letting them find his. You were surprised to see them filled with nothing but sincerity.

"Look, I'm sorry."

Oh, hell no. I am not doing this right now.

"There's nothing to be sorry about," you yanked your hand away from his grip. He wanted to say something else but you didn't give him the chance as you packed the medical supplies and put them away. You put some clothes borrowed from Enishi on the bed and bid your goodbye.

"Get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

You made your way out of the room hoping to get to yours faster. The dress suddenly felt too tight on you and you needed to get out of it before it constricted your air flow. You had a hunger for chaos boiling inside of you and you didn't know how much longer you could keep it inside.

Before you made it to your room you bumped into Enishi. He seemed to be looking for you since you just left him hanging outside. You didn't want to worry him and thought of something to say to cut the incoming interrogation short.

"Can we talk-"

"Look, Enishi. I need to get out of this dress and get some sleep, but I will tell you everything you need to know in the morning. Deal?"

You let the words out in a rush and he looked dazed for a moment as he processed them. He tilted his head and let his eyes linger on your face. You looked way more exhausted than you were when you left for the ball. He could also tell something was eating at you by the way you were frowning. He decided he could wait until tomorrow.

"Okay."

He put a hand on your shoulder rubbing it in comfort and you couldn't help but lean into his touch. It felt so soothing that it made the burning fire in your heart dim a little.

"But we're gonna talk tomorrow," he added. You nodded and placed your hand on his squeezing it in reassurance, before walking off to your room.

You felt bad leaving him like that againbut you weren't in the right mindset to sit and talk about your past right now. Maybe after some sleep and thinking you would be.

Sleeping was a torture. You couldn't fall asleep at all, tossing and turning until the sheets bunched up under you. Your pillows got warm fast the more you switched sides and it pissed you off. The universe was against you catching one wink of sleep.

Getting annoyed, you sat up and threw the duvet away letting it fall on the floor. You laced your fingers through your scalp trying to massage the storm of thoughts away, but it only got more unbearable.

Your head was getting so loud swirling with countless questions. You drowned yourself in regrets and what ifs.

The regrets revolved around the reasons why you saved Cho. You hoped it would leave your conscience clean but it only made it worse. He was two doors away from you and you weren't sure if it was a case of being that close to him that had you on edge of your feelings coming back. You also regretted the mission a lot and well, pushing Enishi away like that when he clearly wanted to help you.

The what ifs surrounded the feelings you had for Cho that were definitely awakening in your heart again. It felt like they never left, as if they just laid dormant until they felt him near to wake up. It was like a grenade was placed in your hand without a safety pin. And you couldn't do anything to stop it from blowing up the more you thought about him and that night that changed everything.

3 years ago

One of your clients sent you on a hunt for a powerful businessman. He was in possession of a samurai tachi sword belonging to the great Fukushima Masanori, who fought in the Battle of Shizugatake almost 300 years ago. Legend says it was the sword that drew the first blood in the battle. It was worth millions on the arms trade market. To have it hung up somewhere and just admire it whenever you wanted was truly a rich person activity.

Your client wanted you and Cho to work together and steal it. Most people who hired you knew you worked better together and often came as a package deal, but none of them asked you to do so until now. Frankly, he was a client of Cho's and he reassured you that he worked with him before and that there was nothing to be worried about.

You've been staking out the businessman's building for a while now, watching out for any sign of movement. A bonus clause of the deal was to take him out too, since your client had some hatchet to bury with him he wouldn't tell you about. You were getting hungry and tired while Cho stepped out. You didn't expect him to come back with dumplings.

"I got you these. It was the only thing I could find around here."

"You didn't have to."

You munched away on your buns, peering at his back from time to time. He leaned over the railing busy scanning the streets.

It's been a year since you've met on that mission. You loved spending time with him and he seemed to enjoy your company just as much.

You've been paying more attention to his actions and words towards you and you could tell that he had feelings for you too. From the way you caught him looking at you when he thought you wouldn't notice. Or the fact that he would spend money on dumplings for you every time you sighed when you saw them, knowing you were saving yours up for other things. Those things were expensive as hell nowadays, but he still chose to treat you to them on occasion.

Your feelings for him grew stronger day by day and you had to tell him how you felt before you combusted spontaneously.

"Cho?"

"Yeah?"

"I want to tell you something."

He hummed as a sign for you to continue, busy scanning the area. Your heartbeat quickened, drowning out the rest of the world around you, the only thing on your mind being those five words. You thought of many different ways to tell him and all kinds of words passed through your mind, some cringier than others. The normal "I like you" should be enough considering none of you were big on declaring things. You did try to confess a fee times before but it always got blocked by something.

Deciding against beating around the bush while you still had time on your hands, you took a deep breath and just went for it.

"I think I like-"

"They're on the move," Cho cut you off.

You sighed in defeat. There went my chance.

Cho got up and you followed, throwing away the empty bag of dumplings with your almost confession in it. Turns out it had to wait until you were done with the mission.

The man you were after arrived in front of the building with a few of his men and went inside. You looked for a way in and noticed a window on the side of the first floor but it was too high. Cho put his hands together motioning you over. He used them to propel you upwards and after a few failed tries you successfully reached it. You found it slightly creaked open and climbed in through it, with him following suit.

You helped him in and landed down inside, taking a look around. The place was full of crates stacked on each other nearly reaching the roof. One of them was opened near you and you cautiously walked over to take a look. It was filled with guns. But not just any guns. They weren't branded and most of them looked like imports from abroad, which meant that they came off the black market. Only one group had access to this much ammunition: the mafia.

This wasn't your first rodeo with a mafia but you knew you had to be extra careful. Snooping around some more you found a big crate made from dark wood. It looked out of place compared to the others. You motioned Cho to it and you tried prying it open as silently as you could, to not attract any unwanted attention. Digging inside among strips of paper your hand landed on what felt like the handle of a briefcase. You pulled it out and looked at Cho. Opening it you found jsut the katana you were looking for, dark sheath decorated in golden chrysanthemums, a symbol of royal value bestowed upon the most trusted samurai. Unsheathing it, you ran your hand along the worn out hilt in awe at the fact that you were holding a relic of ancient Japanese history. Illegally but then again what you were doing wasn't legal either.

One of the guards walked in and spotted you, not thinking twice before opening fire on you. You took cover behind the crate and threw the briefcase over to Cho, getting your guns out to fire back. More men came to see what caused the ruckus and started shooting as well once they saw you taking some of them down.

You shot your pistols until the trigger clicked empty. Slumping back against the crates you needed to think of a way out that didn't involve getting bullet holes punched through you and you had to do it quickly.

You turned to your right and noticed Cho was no longer next to you. You looked around and saw him by the window you came in through, one leg away from freedom with the briefcase in his hand. The window was hidden from sight which made it the perfect escape.

He waved his hand and you thought he was waving you over. You waved your hand at him too telling him there was no way you could reach him while they were still firing at you. He smirked down at you and you tilted your head at him in confusion.

What the hell was he doing?

That's when it clicked. The way he was holding the briefcase. The shushed talks with the client behind your back. That stupid smirk.

You've got to be shitting me.

He used you. While you shot away at the men he used that as cover to get away. He used you to get this far because you knew how to plan things so the game would play out in your favour. There was no telling if he didn't use your feelings as leverage as well. And all this time you hoped he felt the same.

He trained you. He ate with you. He slept next to you. You worked together for almost a year. He pretended to care about you only to toss you to the side. It was all a fucking lie.

Son of a bitch.

With one last look at you he jumped out, leaving you at the mercy of fate. There was not a single glint of regret in those eyes you learned to love so dearly as they disappeared behind the wall. He took you for a fool and you were so blind to see it.

Every mission you did together flashed in front of your eyes. Every moment you spent together. Everything you told each other. Only for him to throw it all away for a chunk of money.

You didn't know what hurt more. Your heart for being stupid enough to try to love. Or your soul, for believing in the good in people.

One thing was certain. You let Barairo out that night, after years of struggling to keep her away, leaving the building covered in blood and with a broken heart. All because you loved him.

Only god knows how you made it out of there. But you completed the bonus gruesome part of the mission, killing the businessman and all his guards with your bare hands. Using her.

It took you years to get her back in, away from people. You fought her to the bone, until you managed to lock her away for good. But the damage was already done. You swore not to let yourself get played like that ever again.

He abandoned you there. You told him how much it hurt when your parents disappeared and he knew how much it scarred you. And he still did it in the most fucked up way he could think of.

Your memories were of a person that sold his soul to whoever paid more for his interests and you wanted nothing to do with him. You swore to put a bullet through his head the next time you met.

But you couldn't help the hurt that came with your reunion tonight. Seeing him again only reignited that pain in you. The same smirk he parted away from you with plastered on his lips in the exact same way tonight.

Why can't I just forget he exists? Why is he still in my head like he never left?

It hurt like hell and no matter how much you tried to erase him your heart wouldn't let you. She would keep reminding you of him everywhere you went.

It was also why you were afraid of what you felt for Enishi. He was different than Cho. Gentler, kinder and understanding. But it scared you that your feelings were in so deep now to be able to get back from it. And you had no security that history wouldn't repeat itself once you let yourself fall for him.

It was times like these you wished your mom was here, able to give you some advice. To guide you towards what was right and kill some of the pain away. You hoped desperately to find her at the ball tonight. Either the man gave you a false lead or they were alerted you were coming and she was moved elsewhere. You didn't know. And that only made everything else worse.

How much longer do I need to search to find her? To find dad? Are any of them even alive anymore? Is there even a point to keep looking for them?

Your thoughts were eating you up again and you needed a distraction before it got too much. Grabbing your pistols from the nightstand and a few cartridges you walked the hallways in a haste to reach the outside garden. The cold stung on your exposed arms but you paid it no mind as you strung up a few targets and started shooting at them.

Normally, shooting for practice relaxed you and gave you the clarity you needed to think things through. But shooting to relax turned into shooting your anger and hurt away pretty quickly. At one point you stopped shooting at the targets and just shot through the blur of your tears, aim faltering away from the targets. You aimed at the trees, the ground, the air. Anything just to feel your pistols empty hoping that your feelings were etched into every bullet so you could stop feeling them.

Enishi was in his office when he heard the shots. He tensed at first ready to get into butchering mode until he recognised the familiar click of your pistols. He rushed to your room thinking something happened only to find you gone, sheets on a disarray on the floor. He followed the sound only to find you in the garden, angrily shooting at something in the dark. He walked closer and sighed when he saw the tears streaming down your face. You seemed devoid of the world around you as you shot away and that scared him a little.

One of your pistols was left without bullets and you angrily threw it away, pulling the other one out from its hold. He had to stop you before you hurt yourself or someone else. Getting a little closer he called your name multiple times. But all you could focus on was the click of your gun and the sound of the bullets ricocheting off the trees.

“Miyu, you need to stop," he said, cautiously taking another step towards you.

“No," you shook your head.

He couldn't take this from you. It was the last thing you had that you knew how to do. The last thing keeping you sane right now. If he took it away you would lose the last glimmer of self control you had.

“Give me the gun," he tried again, voice a little softer this time.

“Leave. me. alone," you growled.

You wanted him to leave you be. To just go back inside and forget he ever saw you like this. Because you knew if he pressed on you would let go of all rational thought and say something you didn't mean. Something that you would regret. But he stood his ground, taking a few more cautious steps towards you.

“I’m not leaving you.”

That was enough to trigger your pent up anger. Everyone in your life left. Your parents, the people you loved, even Cho. What if Enishi would wake up one day and choose to leave too? You convinced yourself he didn't mean it. That he was just saying it now without any security that he would feel the same tomorrow.

“Enishi, please just go!" you yelled as you turned around to him, the last of your munition emptying away in the murky ground. You took a shaky breath as you kept pressing the trigger, turning the gun around and hitting it with your palm trying to make it work, but the empty click of the gun was still the only sound that greeted you.

“Fuck."

You didn’t realize you were sobbing until your sight got too blurry with tears and you started wiping furiously at your face. Enishi went forward and closed the distance to you, warily wrapping his hand around yours that was holding the gun. Loosening the grip of your fingers, he gently took the gun out of your hands and dropped it next to the other one on the ground.

Your eyes met his and you couldn’t hold the pain in anymore. A wail of a sob crawled its way out of your throat, letting out the last fractures of your anger. You crumpled down on the ground, nails digging into the grass around you to hold yourself together a little more. Enishi knelt down to you and wrapped his arms around you. You tried fighting him off, pushing him away as much as you could but his hold was too strong. You punched his chest, desperately trying to get away from him, but he just wouldn't budge. You didn't want to hurt him too, because if you did, you would never forgive yourself.

Your punches got slower the more you sobbed until you settled for gripping his shirt tightly in your hand. He only tightened his arms even more around you, pressing you against his chest.

He hated seeing you like this. It was breaking him inside to know the pain you were feeling all too well because it was the same kind of pain he dealt with alone for years. But none of you were alone anymore. You had each other now and he needed you to know that.

“It’s okay," he whispered.

“Enishi,” you sobbed his name. That was the only thing that kept you from spiralling down in that corner of your mind. The one where she waited with her teeth bared for you to let the door wide open. He was your anchor right now and the only one standing between the two of you becoming one again. The minute he let go of you, you would land the key in the lock of her cell and let her out, letting her consume you. You knew if that happened right now there would be no way back from it this time.

“Please don’t leave me."

“I’m not leaving you.” He grabbed the sides of your face and made you look at him. “I am not leaving you, Miyu.”

He would say it as many times as it took for you to understand that he wasn't going to move an inch away from you unless you told him to. He wasn't going to let you lose yourself, not when he could help it.

You just sobbed harder upon hearing his words and he scooped you up from the cold ground, taking you back inside to the warmth of your room. He helped you get in bed before he himself got in next to you. You moved back into his arms and he cradled you close.

You sat like that for a while, letting it all out while he held you to him, whispering an occasional 'I'm here' or 'You're okay' to let you know he wasn't going anywhere.

"Miyu, I know now's not the time, but you need to talk to me. I want to help you but I don't know how until you tell me what's wrong."

He knew you weren't okay and suspected that it would come to this sooner or later. The sooner you told him what was wrong the closer he would get to knowing how to help you. He would wait for you as long as you needed but it had to be soon. Before you would slip away in the one place he didn't wish upon anyone.

His hands moved to rub your back and you took in a shaky breath preparing for the unavoidable. You lifted your head up from his chest and wiped some of your tears away. You kept him in the dark enough.

You told him everything. From what happened to your parents, detail by detail, to how you dreamt of it almost every night in vivid pictures as if it was happening again. From your life before you met Cho and your life after he left you, leaving out a few things that could ultimately get him kicked out of the guest room in his sleep, including the whole thing about the feelings involved.

You finally laid all the pieces of your broken soul on the table and watched nervously as he looked at each one with a mix of emotions you knew all too well. His jaw twitched with anger learning about the things you had to go through. His eyes reflected the same sadness you felt for years on end. His hands held yours the whole time and he felt the hurt washing over you like it was his own. But not once did his eyes show pity and that told you that you laid your heart out in good hands.

He seemed deep in thought after everything you told him and well, who wouldn't be. You expected him to be appalled at most of the things you told him and push you away. But he didn't. He welcomed the entirety of your past with open arms and it made the walls you've built up so high quiver.

There was still one thing you needed reassurance about and you gathered up all your courage to ask it.

"Can you promise me something?"

"Of course." He brushed a few stray hairs from your face to get a better look at you, frowning at your red and puffy eyes. "What is it?"

You swapped the hold of his hands so your smaller ones covered his, holding them tightly in your lap. They weren't as cold as they used to be when you met him, a whole lot warmer now than yours were. You looked down at them with an unfamiliar yearning. It felt like you held the whole world in your hands and it terrified you. You found solace in this world and you wanted to protect it like it protected you. No matter what it would take to keep it safe. To keep him safe.

"Whatever happens, be it in a mission or whatever situation, promise me we will stay together. We go in together and we get out of it together."

"I promise," he said without hesitating. He lifted a hand to your cheek cupping it softly. "I told you I would keep you safe as long as you're with me. I tend to keep my word, you know."

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as you felt another wave of tears coming. But this time, they weren't tears of pain or sorrow. They were tears of appreciation. He was so attentive and understanding while listening to everything you had to say that it overwhelmed you, in a good way.

"I know," you said sniffling away another sob. You played with his fingers counting the calluses on them to distract yourself. The fear that he would turn against you some day was still there and there was nothing you could do to quiet it down. But his words lowered it a bit.

"I really need to stop being a crybaby. You're probably tired of it."

"I could never get tired of you. Come here," he said opening his arms for you with the most genuine smile on his face.

You fell into them and pressed your head to his chest while he carded a hand through your hair to calm you down. His other hand rested on your back, lightly drawing patterns on it. He rocked you back and forth for a little while, until he felt you relax against him. Peeking an eye down at you, he saw you fast asleep. Your hand was fisting his shirt so tight as if the world will fall to pieces if you let go. It reminded him of that night after he took you to watch the sunset on the hill overlooking the village. He found you plopped on your bed, so tired that you didn't even change out of your clothes. You had the same adorable pout on your face now and it made him melt.

He held you for a while to make sure you were deep in sleep before deciding to let you rest. You looked like you really needed it after the day you had. Getting up as quiet as he could, he laid you down in bed, placing your head on your pillow gently. He covered you with the duvet and tried to move away, but your hand kept him in place, fist tightening around the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer. He placed his hand on your fist, untangling it from his shirt to lace his fingers with yours instead. You turned to his side and cuddled around his hand pulling it closer to you. He knelt down beside your bed and just looked at you as he brushed your hair away from your face.

I'm not going to let anything happen to you. You're not alone anymore, my light.

It must have been the early hours of the morning when Enishi left. You've been sound asleep for a few hours and he decided to go work on some things since he wasn't going to catch any sleep for himself.

Reaching his office he was met with the door creaked open. He narrowed his eyes on it thinking back to when he left for your room. He definitely shut it closed.

Someone who wasn't supposed to be inside was messing around judging by the clutter of swords to the ground. He pushed the door open only to see his unwanted guest playing around at the sword wall. His presence went unknown to the man who had his back at him as he just stood there watching him for a while until he got annoyed.

"I would appreciate it if you stopped snooping around."

The blonde man turned around surprised that he had company, dropping the sword he was holding on the ground. It clanged loudly on the floor and Enishi moved to the door to close it, releasing an exasperated sigh.

If he wakes her up I am turning him into paper tinsel.

"So the master of the house does speak."

"What are you doing here, Sword Hunter?"

"You know who I am?"

I just said your nickname, dumbass. He really does lack intelligence doesn't he?

You didn't tell him too much about Cho. But the more he looked at him he started remembering who he was. He's heard about him before but never got a chance to see him until now. Once you told him more he pieced the puzzle together rather quickly.

Cho ignored him and continued messing around until he picked up a sword he seemed rsther interested in. He unsheathed it, testing its balance in his hand.

"A wo-dao Chinese sword. I've never seen one before."

He swung it around and held it closer to his line of sight tracing his eyes along the silver blade.

"This is a great sword."

"It could hurt you. The balance is different than Japanese swords."

Enishi's patience was running thin. The last thing he wanted to confront at the ass crack of dawn was a sword freak. He debated knocking him out and dragging him back to bed but you probably wouldn't be too happy if you knew that happened.

"You seem sure of yourself."

And you're acting like a fucking idiot.

Cho racked through the stash and threw a different sword at Enishi, suggesting testing the blades in a duel. Enishi just stared him down taking in all the bandages that littered his body. He wouldn't mind adding some more on there. But you worked too hard patching him up to do that.

"I'm not gonna fight you," he retaliated, placing the sword on his desk.

I don't want her to wake up to that. She has enough on her plate already.

"Are you you scared you'll lose?" huffed Cho.

"I could kill you right now if I wanted to." He unsheathed the sword and chuckled darkly. The look in his eyes turned murderous and it was enough to make Cho's jaw tick. He was looking for a fight and Enishi struggled keeping himself away from giving him one. With a deep sigh he put it back in its hold and went to place it back to its place neatly.

"I'm only letting you stay because she wants you here for some fucked up reason. One wrong move and you're out of here in seconds."

"Oh, but that's where you're wrong."

He put the sword he was holding on the table and looked Enishi dead in the eye.

"I'll stay as long as she wants me here," he said placing a hand on Enishi's shoulder tauntingly. "Not even you can convince her to let me go."

Morning couldn't come fast enough. You heard Enishi leave sometime in the early hours of the morning but you were too tired to register it and quickly fell back asleep. Before he left, you felt a feather like touch of what could only be his lips connecting to your temple and smiled in your sleep, hoping he noticed it.

Trudging to the bathroom you looked in the mirror and nearly screeched. Your eyes were the size of rice balls, the ginormous kind that Wu would stuff in his mouth for dinner, but with a slight touch of pink and bloodshot.

You didn't want to deal with the aftermath of yesterday at all. But you promised Enishi you would talk more things out, especially about the blondie residing in his guest room without a good explanation on why he was here other than the fact that he was hurt.

You hung your head low in shame gripping the edges of the sink. You brought a total stranger in the house that wasn't yours, got him comfortable and did not even have the courtesy of telling Enishi who the fuck he was or why he should even stay after everything.

I might be going off the rails sooner than I predicted.

Enishi had every right to be mad at you for every shitty choice you made in the last 24 hours. From going over his word multiple times and not staying in the house like he told you. For talking rudely to him at the ball for no particular reason other than what was probably jealousy. For bringing a total stranger into his house. To keeping him awake for most of the night with your own problems.

But he wasn't. On the contrary, he comforted you even after you put him through all of that. He took care of you again even after all you did was push him away. And fuck if you knew why he still did it.

I'm surprised he hasn't kicked me out yet.

But one thing did bug you. He did all that and you still weren't clear of what his intentions were or whether he felt the same for you because he hasn't said anything to seal the deal yet.

Did he even want to seal the deal? Or was it all a play again?

You did not want a rerun of what happened with Cho. You weren't sure of what exactly you felt for the blonde man but you knew it wasn't anything good. Besides, if you went through that again, especially with Enishi, it would crush you for good. You wondered when he would come clean and open up to you, hoping it would be sooner than later.

Until then, you had a breakfast to attend that had the potential to turn really messy. Both males were highly unpredictable and liked to act on impulse. If you managed to get through it without anyone getting their head ripped off their body it would be a miracle.

Lord give me strength to face the males you put on this earth.

Breakfast was going well so far, you would say. All three of you ate quietly, sparring looks at each other sheepishly. You all waited for someone to speak first and cut the tension wafting in the air.

You surely didn't want to be first as you didn't even know where to start. Start explaining some more things to Enishi and apologize for everything? Put a plate in Cho's hand and kick him out yourself? Complimenting the chef on the food? Wait this is leftovers I prepared yesterday.

You looked at Cho who was picking at the food in his plate like an ungrateful child. What could he even say? Introduce himself in a really Cho manner, jazz fingers and all, spew some lies about who he actually is and making himself more unwanted than he was at the moment? Highly likely. He didn't owe Enishi anything other than to return the clothes he borrowed.

Looking to Enishi, you didn't know what to expect. He would most likely start awkward conversation with "So what do you do?" and then expect you to elaborate whilst trying to keep Cho's mouth shut in case he decided to talk about things Enishi was better off not knowing. Or unsheathe one of his swords and turn this into a fight, considering the daggers he was throwing at him.

The possibilities were endless.

To your disappointment, Enishi did speak first and you braced for the joy that was about to become the breakfast table.

“So, how do you two know each other?”

Okay, an easy question that didn't need a complicated answer.

“We used to work together,” you said peeling a boiled egg for yourself trying to keep your composure.

Cho tapped your leg under the table asking you to peel one for him using the injured person card. He was holding the fork just fine so you just threw an eggshell at him.

“We did more than work,” said Cho, earning himself a kick under the table from you.

You narrowed your eyes at him silently telling him to watch it. He only smirked in return, enjoying that he could annoy you this much.

“It was just work,” you gritted, turning to look at Enishi. “We took out a few people in uh... team missions.”

“Oh, and how much fun we had doing it together,” chirped Cho, leaning his head on his palm.

And I thought I was off the rails. I forgot that he literally exists.

“You should’ve seen her back then. She was so ruthless and unforgiving."

Why was he suddenly acting like the president of the Miyu Hikari fanclub?

If the you from back then was sitting here now she would probably blush and feel giddy at the remark.

But your face fell at the mention of the person you used to be back then. She haunts you at night and you wished you could just forget everything about her.

Enishi saw the way you uncomfortably shifted in your seat and picked at the shell of your egg with a frown. Squinting dangerously at the blonde who seemed to be enjoying himself a little too much, he interfered.

“Actually, she appears to be doing pretty well now, I would say.” Your eyes snapped up to him, a small smile of acknowledgment on his lips directed at you. “She’s so much stronger now.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. Now that he knew about your past and how much it took to get to where you are now, he seemed to have a different level of admiration for you. He was still so trusting in your abilities and it was beyond your understanding how he could just sit there believing you could lift planet Earth if you wanted to. And he would totally support you.

But of course, Cho had to ruin the moment.

“If that’s true, then she should be able to actually take me down in a fight now without using tricks,” he cocked an eyebrow at you.

It was a little bet you always had going when you trained with him. Whoever pinned the other to the ground first would get bragging benefits for the day. Loser would also have to chip in with whatever the winner wanted. You smiled a little remembering all the times you won over him and he had to buy you a ginormous amount of sweets. You did use a few tricks to get him off guard like winking at him or blowing him a kiss and he fell for it every single time. He liked the attention and that was one of his biggest weaknesses.

The good times blurred the bad ones for a little moment of bittersweet melancholy. Maybe it wasn't all that bad that he was back.

“I’m not fighting you when you’re wrapped in bandages like a mummy,” you said, munching on a piece of bread.

“Then when I’m better!”

“You’re not staying here,” cut in Enishi.

Did he mean here as in the mansion or here as in near you? From the way he gripped his mug it could be both.

“But he’s injured,” you turned to him as did Cho, with a more dramatic expression akin to distorted puppy eyes. "Stop making that face. It's creeping me out."

Enishi got up and took your wrist pulling you to the side to discuss privately about your guest. He had a bad feeling about him ever since he caught him snooping around his office last night. His mere existence pissed him off and it was slowly becoming a problem.

“I don’t want him here more than he should be staying here.”

“And he won’t be here longer than it takes to heal his wounds,” you prodded. “Let him stay for at least a week.”

A week would give you time to sort some stuff out with both of them and send Cho away with a clean conscience that he was healed and hopefully in one piece.

“A week?! Two days max."

“Five days!”

“Three days.”

“Four,” you begged, hands held together in a prayer. “You won’t even know he’s here.”

His tongue poked his cheek as he thought your proposal over. He didn't have anything to lose but the guy made him really suspicious. The way he looked and talked to you infuriated him beyond normal. He didn't understand why you were so keen on him staying here. But he would yield in, for now.

“Okay,” he sighed defeatedly. "But one wrong move or word and he's gone."

“Thank you, Enishi!"

You got a bit too excited and without a second thought you leaned up and kissed his cheek. Your brain short-circuited when you processed your lips touching his soft cheek. Both of you got surprised by your gesture, eyes widened in shock as you pulled away. The slightest tint of a blush was painted on your cheeks.

“I’ll uh… go do the dishes.”

What the hell was I thinking?!

You started backing away shyly before your heart could implode. Rushing your steps you nearly knocked down a chair as you hastily ran inside.

“Do you need help-“

“IM GOOD!”

He touched his cheek feeling the spot where your lips were pressed in a peck just a few moments ago and shook his head at you with a smile. You were truly something else. But the minute his eyes laid on the unwanted guest munching away at the food on the table like a gorilla, his smile fell.

I’m doing this for her. I need to show her that I can interact with other people without wanting to skewer them alive.

He went to sit back down at the table. He wanted to at least finish his tea before looking for excuses to leave.

“It’s so nice to have company after being solo for so long.”

“Mhm. I bet.”

“You’re not much of talker are you?”

“Nope.” I am but not with people like you.

“I’m sure you’ll warm up to me soon.”

“Surely," he smiled. I’d rather go sit with Wu for a week than spend one more minute with you.

“Enishi!” You called out to him from the kitchen. Ah, thank god.

“Coming!” he sat up from the table quick as lightning and dashed inside to you. “What do you need?”

“Can you fold my sleeves so I won’t get them wet?” You didn’t even finish and he was already doing your sleeves all the way up above your elbows. “Thank you!”

“No problem."

He looked at the pile of dishes you started washing, hoping you would ask him to help. Anything to stay in here with you than go outside to that creature.

"Is there anything else I can help with?”

“You could ask Cho if he wants anything else.”

His hopes were shattered the second his name cane oit of your mouth. He looked at you as if you asked him to bring you a bear or something. His eyes were pleading to stay with you in the kitchen but all you saw was a look that was weirding you out.

“Or you could wipe these dry," you suggested pointing to the dishes that needed to be taken off the drying rack so you could put the others instead.

Okay, that I can do.

“Gladly," he smiled.

You shook your head, giggling at his antics. You could tell he wasn't that fond of blondie. Cho's presence bugged you at first too but he grew on you over time. He was still the same idiot putting himself in danger recklessly but most times you were there to get him out of it.

Whatever you saw in him back then was pure and underneath all that mischief there was a boy who just didn't know what to do with his life. You understood him more than he understood you and you couldn't help but empathise with him.

"He's not that bad, you know," you said washing one of the bigger plates. You handed it to Enishi and watched him wipe it dry on all corners. Clean freak, you thought smiling.

"I'll believe it when I see it. All he's done so far is eat and sleep for free," he picked up another dish, "and make you uncomfortable after you literally saved and took care of him."

He had a point. But then again that was what you were doing too. Enishi took you in and cared for you like you were one of his own and all you did lately was abuse that. And it made you feel bad no matter how much he told you everything was okay and that he wasn't mad about it in the slightest.

"He's the only person I had for a while. As much as we didn't part on good terms I owe him a little."

Enishi wasn't stupid. He could tell there was something more between the two of you, besides slaying people for money together. He just wasn't sure if that something died three years ago, but he knew that feelings don't go away so easily. No matter how hard you try to make them disappear.

Living with not one but two copies of the male species was interesting to say the least. It's been only one day of cohabitating together and there was already a growing tension between the two.

Enishi didn't really acknowledge Cho's existence unless you mentioned him in conversation. Cho tried to annoy him on occasions where he let his guard down around you but most of the times it didn't work in his favour and he ended up being ignored.

However, the macho vibes were very strong as you were training today. Cho looked up to joining in with you and you let him despite Enishi's silent protests. You wished you listened to them.

Stretching your bodies before practice turned into a muscle flexing competition. Cho rolled his sleeves above his elbows and unbuttoned his shirt down to his navel, while Enishi took off his kimono to be left only in his tank top.

You gulped at the sight, eyes darting from one man to the other. Cho's veiny hands caught your attention first. Then your eyes moved from his collar bone all the way down to the outline of his abs that were peeking from under his shirt. You've seen them in passing when you patched him up. But seeing them in broad daylight was a totally different story. They looked so defined and sculpted. You unconsciously licked your lips at the sight, wondering how it would feel to take your time counting the squares one by one.

Your eyes then settled on Enishi and your breath hitched. His muscly biceps were already glistening with sweat from just stretching, but it was enough to make you want to chomp down on them. You've seen them so many times before but they made your mouth water every time. One flex of it and you would be on the floor seeking medical assistance.

You didn't even realise they were looking at you until you heard Cho's high pitched laughing. Enishi seemed quite amused by your reaction too, chuckling to himself. They caught you full on staring at their goodies with no shame. You wanted the ground to swallow you whole from the embarrassment.

Cho walked to you and you planted your feet to the floor trying to get back to your serious face. He stopped just a patch of grass away from you but it was enough to make you breathless. His abs were right in front of you, an elbow away.

"Better wipe the drool on your lips, princess," he said as he wiped it from your lips with his thumb.

This fucker. Wait until I wipe my fist on your lips.

"Fuck off," you pushed him away and got back to stretching with your back to them.

All was well until sword practice turned into a contest of the fittest. You were getting back to grips with your jian sword trying to remember the basic moves Enishi taught you. But the two men in front of you were deep in focus with their own longer katanas, practicing deep slashes coupled with some aerial moves. Looking at them sitting side by side, you noticed their styles were awfully similar, the only difference being that Enishi was faster and made use of his surroundings, while Cho was slower and used more tricks to slow down his opponent. Both of them appeared to be in their own element and it was a sight to behold.

Sparring wise you were kind of tossed to the side. They were too busy staring daggers at one another to notice you were there to learn stuff too. One rude insult from Cho and a twitch of Enishi's jaw later they took it upon themselves to duel.

Stepping backwards to give them more space you watched as they lunged at each other. Their eyes turned dark as their blades clashed, all semblance of humanity gone from both of them. Enishi was back in his unyielding form, forcing his attacks like a wild beast pouncing on his prey. Cho was actively trying to piss him off with tricks, sneering viciously the more he dodged Enishi's blade and pushed his buttons.

After some push and pull, combined with some cussing, the two broke apart with heaving breaths. They swirled their swords around to stretch their wrists as they continued circling each other.

"Quit playing around and fight for real," gritted Enishi.

"I am fighting for real," grunted Cho. "I think it's you who's holding back."

"I'm only holding back so I don't accidentally kill you."

"Why don't you do it then?"

He chuckled. For a brief moment his eyes locked with yours and he got some of his rationale back. He wasn't a fool. He could see right through his intentions.

"You want me to lose it and make myself look bad in front of her, don't you?"

Cho stopped moving around and played around with his blade. He got caught in the act and the look on his face gave it away too easily.

Enishi swung at him and he jumped over the slash that could've cut him in half. He spun trying to get Enishi off balance and tried cutting him back but Enishi was too fast and he could only dodge left and right.

Cho started getting sloppy. He swayed on his feet due to the gash in his leg that didn't heal properly yet. He knew he wasn't supposed to be out here but his pride got the best of him. He wanted to see what Enishi was made of and it was quite clear that he was a strong opponent.

Enishi noticed he was getting slower and used that to his advantage, combining moves that only pushed him to the edge. He wanted him to give it up and accept defeat.

Cho was forced to defend himself when Enishi's sword came down from above, blades meeting again with much more force than before. Both of them pushed with as much strength as they could to throw the other one off.

"If you're that sure of yourself, why don't we take a bet?" proposed Cho in a ploy to get Enishi to retreat.

"Oh yeah? What's in it for me?"

Cho turned his head to you and Enishi followed his gaze as they both lowered their blades. You were sitting on the ground staring up at the sky. You looked so at peace for once in a while that it calmed him down too, adrenaline from the moment drawing back into him. Cho was just as entranced by you.

"Let's see which one of us she actually wants. We both have a week to figure her out. If it's you she wants I'll be out of both of your lives in a heartbeat."

The offer was tempting. Enishi believed he had the upper hand here. He saw the way you looked at him and he wasn't entirely blind to your feelings, even if he himself was confused with his. You also had a connection between you that was hard to tear down, as much as blondie tried to interfere. If all these things played out in his favour, he could fly out the door sooner than the agreed timeline. It was a win-win situation.

But there was the possibility of him being wrong. There was a chance you still felt something for Cho and those feelings could just be waiting for him to do something to try and get you back. What if they would grow back stronger the more time you spent around him?

As much as he wanted to believe things could play out in his favour, the situation said otherwise.

Although, he was sure of one thing. That he was willing to bet everything to keep you with him. No matter what.

"But if she wants me-," Cho continued only to get cut off harshly.

"I won't let that happen," thundered Enishi.

He was more sure of himself than he's ever been before, especially because this involved you. He would stop at nothing to win you over.

"Bring it on."

Thank you for reading! As always, comments, likes and reblogs are welcome :)

[spicybylerpolls]

Well, unknown hero agent man / pen symbolism anon, i hope you're reading this, cos you hit the nail on the head! this kind of symbolic storytelling is not only a fine art of cinema (being lost these days a little sadly, what with the whole netflix speedy turnover etc), but exactly what (good) films of the horror genre aim to do.

horror has long been a way to creatively tell 'normal' dramatic stories through subtext and symbolism. not sure if this is still a way around traditional censorship but im sure it began that way. films like the exorcist, the shining, rosemary's baby... all classics that are filled with subtext. its also an exciting way to talk about things that might seem trite or too bleak when portrayed as a 'straight' drama (this is the term meaning 'non-genre based' or 'non-musical' lmao). So you could say that ST is NOT straight, in more ways than one 😉

but much of this will go over casual viewers heads, so its finding the balance between making a story believable on the surface (another dimension exists! scary government men trying to kill us!) and subtextually (the UD as a metaphor for trauma/AIDS/closeted homosexuality/abuse etc) if viewers are clever enough to see/feel it. i say feel because much of storyviewing is instinctive instead of analytical.

so ST incorporates both - not just metaphorical, vague storytelling, but also real issues too. but it goes one step further, and actually has characters talk explicitly about reading deeper into stuff (murray's behind the curtain speech). it's a very meta show, even for a genre piece, which is why it astounds me that some people think it's not that deep lol. and some people think that only literature can be deep, but never tv or movies - which is an insult to anyone who has ever been passionate about cinema tbh. It's a statement that would probably rip the heart out of the duffers' chests and stomp on it. these guys are super nerds who have dedicated their adult lives to this passion project. as finn said, 'most people make it then just cash in - im so glad they still care'.

I'm sorry you don't feel comfortable talking about the beauty of this storytelling on your main. it really does surprise me that the fandom is so censorship obsessed because sexual metaphors have long existed in visual media, and especially in horror films. there used to be a long post about byler and a potential sex scene at lover's lake on here, but the user disappeared and the post went missing. it was about all the sexual imagery in ST, with a focus on byler in s4. i especially loved how they mentioned mike's introduction, where he was just in underwear: it is both appropriate for the setting, but also gets the audience used to him as a growing lad with a body and draws attention to those uncomfortable, potentially sexual aspects of being a teen. i mean, he was in tiny pants for god's sake. did we need to see that? why did we see it? etc etc

hilariously, they also referenced the always sunny in philadelphia scene where a character is in a therapist office talking about a pen being a dick. he then puts it in his mouth and chews the pen lmoao

i think you'd enjoy @therainscene's rod symbolism post too. I'm personally hoping for some explicit sex scenes with byler, because the show so far has arguably been telling that story metaphorically already for 4 seasons, and bringing it out of the subtext could be a storytelling device in itself. bringing byler's secrets into the light. after all, this is a period piece that aims to shed light on a bygone era. its not a propaganda piece that needs to remain coded; the reasons for staying secretive still exist for mike and will in the 80s, but times have changed since then for us as a global audience, and more importantly, the aspirational message has changed. what message would the duffs want to send to viewers that are still bigoted? clearly one of the beauty of homosexuality, seeing as will, our fav gay boy, has been the darling sympathetic victim of the show since s1e1. the show needs to remain true to both the 80s while also having a strong message for this decade in order for modern audiences to be able to gain something from watching this story; in order for there to be a reason the show exists at all.

so to answer your question, i had never picked up on the pen symbolism until now, but i immediately agree, not least because 1) it must have a meaning that connects to byler's conversation otherwise why does it just interrupt them with no reason? (from a storytelling pov), and 2) because of the always sunny scene lolllll

thanks for the discourse! if you stick around into s5, im sure we will be able to start discussing this on our mains. it'll be a new era and there might even be gifs/pics of byler to accompany our 'spicy' discourse haha!

Amazing/fascinating points! Thanks for adding to the discussion!

[finniestoncrane]

🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛ The Batman, by Jonathan Crane 🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛

tis the season!! i wanted to do a little something extra for today, and it is his holiday after all so please, enjoy this retelling of The Raven, written by Jonathan Crane about a visit from another flying burden that plagues him

Once in Gotham city, dreary, as I studied, weak and weary,

Over many a strange and villainous study of my subject, fear

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of someone gently rapping, coming dangerously near

“Tis some visitor” I muttered “who has dared to come this near –

Edward likely, Edward’s here.”

Ah distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,

And each separate thought that entered left my reason not so clear.

Eagerly I wished the morrow, vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow, that nobody might appear

For the rare and radiant joy, perhaps, that no one would appear

Leaving me alone to fear.

But the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each orange curtain

Thrilled me – filled me with fantastic terrors never felt sincere

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

“God damn Edward, that idiot Nygma, has decided to appear

So late at night, encroaching, he is bound now to appear

How I wish he’d disappear.”

Presently my soul grew stronger, hesitating then no longer,

“Ed” said I “dear Edward, though your habits usually queer

You’ve intruded on my plotting, focused on my latest toxin

Coming to me, late this evening, uninvited, you’re right here

So out of rage, I did ignore you” – I threw open my door here

Darkness there, stoking my fear.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream sincere

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token

And the only word there spoken were the whispered words

“Do you fear?”

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the words,

“Fear… fear…”

Merely this, sounding so clear.

Back into my chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

“Surely” said I “surely that is someone at my window shutter

Let me see, then, what it is, and this mystery made clear –

Let my heart be still a moment, please, this mystery render clear –

It’s just Edward!” said with fear.

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flap and flutter

In there stepped that cursed Batman, donning in all his foolish gear

Not the least obeisance made he, not a minute stopped or stayed he

But with mien of demon or deity, perched on broken chandelier

Perched, the hinges rusting, on the broken chandelier

Perched with dark, perpetual sneer.

Then this fiendish man beguiling my prior fear to smiling

By the grave and stern decorum of his serious veneer

“Though your presence here is looming, I assure you there’s no glooming

Ghastly Batman, bring no doom in, though you try to domineer

So tell me, what you think you’re doing, trying hard to domineer.”

Quoth the Batman

“No more fear.”  

Much I marvelled this ungainly man to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning, little relevancy here

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet could fight the power of my toxin, they adhere

Bird or beast upon this hallowed earth, cannot help but adhere

Yet for Batman, “No more fear.”

“Batman!” said I “thing of evil! Undecided man or devil!

By that city all around us, by that city filled with peers

Tell me that you really think this, that it is not just your wish this,

That I never will wreak havoc, or my horrors volunteer –

That those fools will not be ravished by the horrors, volunteer.”

Quoth the Batman, “No more fear.”

“Be that phrase our sign of parting, man or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting

“Get thee back into the skyline of that city of austere!

Leave no Batarangs as token of that lie that you have spoken!

Leave me here, no vial unbroken! Leave me never to reappear!

Take your boot from out my face, and then please never reappear!”

Quoth the Batman, “No more fear.”

And the Batman, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

Perched and crouching, waiting there upon my broken chandelier

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming

And the lamp-light o’er him streaming, makes his presence oh so clear

And the truth of my sweet toxin and my failed plans, oh so clear

It is written – no more fear.

(divider by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more)

[kajaono]

Why MCQ is wrong when he says that Ilsa and Ethan would be boring as a love couple

Ilsa and Ethan, Rita Vrataski and Bill Cage. MCQ has a thing for couples who love each other but can be never together. And what happens after the movie ends is up to the viewer. That is of course perfectly fine and I actually also like it. Its kinda thrilling

And he wrote those couples so perfectly and nuanced. This is why I was so surprised to see how boring and bleak the love relationship was in Top Gun Maverick.

NOW knowing that he thinks established love relationships in action movies are boring, explains A LOT.

But I think in his whole „love couples in action movies are boring“ attitude he overlook something really important. The problem starts with Ilsa and Ethan being not a „one movie - will they/won't they“-couple. They have an established relationship over the course of three movies. They might have started as yet another one of MCQs "They can't be together“-couples but they devloped a dynamic. They proved that they work together really well. Not only as a romantic couple but also as indivual characters.

Especially the finale scene in MI6 showed how well Ilsa and Ethan can work together as an agent couple (without „omg, pleas keep save *sobbing* don’t hurt yourself *good boys kiss* ) but as real professionals and then switching to a tender love couple once the danger is over. And I think fans wanted that and nothing more for Ilsa and Ethan. No one wanted to see them going on dates, because eventually we are still here for Tom Cruise jumping out of airplanes because Benji is asking him to. What fans expected to get in Mi7 was a: Tender opening scene with Ethan and Ilsa (we kinda got that with the desert hug), then fighting together, maybe holding hands once (we also got that) then action - action - one anxious long and a nod - action - action - action - kiss - the end. Nothing more. Like The Old Guard f.e.

And I think that is the most confusing thing about this whole situation. There are AMAZING action movies out there with a romantic lead couple. The old Guard, ant man 2 (who are also aiming at an more adults viewers) and dare I to say, even Vampire Academy, the tv show? which yes, has a lot of love drama but it honestly boils down to: how can we be guardians, who put the mission above everything and love each other at the same time?“ and they find a solution. There is this beautiful scene in the final fight where Rose tells Dimitri to run, he shortly struggles, stands stills, looks at her, anxious, and then runs away. And we didn’t asked for more for Ethan and Ilsa

That MCQ appearently thinks Action love couples are boring tells us a lot how he views fictional love in general

Also, the moment where he decided he didn’t wanted to write a boring love relationship, the woman had to die. Not the man, the woman.. which …. Yeah they can not replace Tom Cruise… (yet) but either the woman dies first to give a man character motivation or is left as a mourning widow. Nothing else… wow, groundbreaking. We really haven’t moved a bit in female representation huh?

[conkers-thecosy]

Drop some AUs that's you love! I want to read all the things >:)

P.s. hope your day is going well! Give your sweet pup a good scratch behind the ears for me 💜

Hullo lovely!

Ahhhhh!! This is a great ask, okay here we go!!

In June and June and More June by Dragonslaeyr:

"When Bilbo agreed on a trip to Erebor to clear up the last of his mother's estate, what he didn't count on was falling in love with its gorgeous landscape, the fiercely proud people, and yes, the delicious food. Now if only he could figure out why everyone was acting so strangely around his neighbours..."

- Whisper of the Heart by @abliafina-18782

"When Bilbo discovers all of his library books have been checked out by the same guy, a Thorin Oakenshield, maybe it will finally give him the push for adventure he's always wanted."

-

Love-In-Idleness by perkynurples

"Taking Bilbo Baggins, a successful movie actor who is only just getting used to the perks and intricacies of becoming A Face People Want To See, and putting him together with Thorin Oakenshield, with his very traditional (read: slightly backwards) ideas about what constitutes Real Art and Real Talent, might very well be viewed as just some clothead’s idea of a joke. But there are jokes, and then there are carefully calculated risks the size of controversial reproductions of classic Shakespearean plays - for Bilbo, it is the chance of a lifetime to prove himself to all those who have ever deemed him too one-dimensional to even attempt stage, while Thorin has the opportunity to get out of the rut that’s been hindering his career for so long now, and shine in a role worthy of his talent once again. That is if the two learn how to share the same space for more than ten minutes without wanting to tear each other’s hair out. The course of true love never did run smooth, after all…"

-

Dragonhearted by @lordoftherazzles

"The grandson of a greedy king and his dwarvish companions fall under the curse of literal dragon sickness - at least for Thorin. Bestowed by Smaug the Terrible, an enchanter whose other form is also that of a dragon, the vilest of fire drakes from the north, is seeking riches at the end of a hard trial for the prince of Erebor. Doomed to live his life as a ‘not-quite-dwarf’ and ‘not-quite-dragon’, Thorin and his companions are forgotten by the world around them.

The decades roll by and the curse shows no sign of lifting, for Thorin was tasked with proving that his heart was worth saving and that he would not be corrupted by gold lust like his grandfather. All seems bleak until the arrival of one quirky little hobbit of the Shire with his mother’s stubborn streak and his father’s gentility. Bilbo Baggins, a prisoner of this draconic beast, soon begins to show Thorin just what a heart worth saving feels like."

-

Bookbinder//Songwriter by @lordoftherazzles

"Thorin Durinul has always dreamed of making it to the big leagues in the music industry. Ered Luin’s newest citizen, Bilbo Baggins, an aspiring writer and all-around bookworm, has recently taken ownership of the mountain town’s dusty old corner shop, now, Bag End Books. They weren’t looking for love, but now they can’t imagine tackling life’s challenges without each other."

-

...There are so, so many more, but I haven't read half the fics I want to, and these are a good place to start if you're looking for AUs!

Let me know what you think!! 💛 

[toaarcan]

Arcan Grumbles About Mecha Sally, Part 1: The Wrong Protagonists

Alright I've had this gripe bubbling away in my head for a while (Actually it's part of a larger gripe but I'm trying to avoid devoting too much time to griping about things), so here goes.

Archie Sonic's Mecha Sally saga has the wrong protagonists.

Let's take the premise of the arc in isolation for a moment: Sally Acorn, leader of the Freedom Fighters, is turned into a robotic minion of Dr. Eggman, and everyone else has to try and get her back.

Who, then, should be the characters who get the most focus in this story? Well, obviously Sally's closest friends, and those who would have the most angst about it, right?

Sonic is currently Sally's boyfriend, and he's the main character of the book, so he kinda has to be there regardless of that, even if he's contractually obligated to care significantly less than he should, thanks SEGA. Way to make the comic worse in the name of Brand Identity, where the fuck were you when Penders was here?

But then the list of characters I'd want to give the most focus to in this situation is this: Bunnie, Antoine, Nicole, and Elias.

None of whom are actually properly involved in the published arc after Issue 235.

Bunnie is a really obvious pick. She's Sally's best friend, the two have been all but inseparable since like Day 3, and Bunnie is the powerhouse of the team, of course she should be there. Even from a pure spectacle perspective, Bunnie vs. Mecha Sally should be a good battle, we've seen that Flynn can write a good fight scene with Bunnie on more than one occasion, so hey, let them go at it and it'll be both an entertaining fight and an emotionally fraught scene.

So what does Bunnie do in the actual story? She gets accidentally depowered by a wizard, forgets that she's been depowered and thus becomes the only character in the entire book to outright lose to weaponised Mecha Sally, watches her husband explode, and then runs away to go and get turned back into a cyborg by her Eggman-serving Lost Causer uncle.

Antoine, then. Antoine used to be in love with Sally, and while that's far behind him now, he was also originally meant to be her bodyguard. He must have some extremely complex feelings about what's going on, maybe he even feels like he failed her, like his original task of putting his life on the line to protect her fell by the wayside, and thus when he could have saved her by taking a bullet for her, he wasn't even there. He could, and probably should, have a massive amount of survivor's guilt, feeling that this whole crisis only happened because he didn't do his job.

So, how does he fare in the book? He gets Geoff found guilty of his treachery, only for that to be rendered immediately futile by Naugus. He tells Bunnie that she's strong without being a cyborg, which immediately turns out to be not true. He then sacrifices himself to save Elias, and while more could've been done with this if it was later in the story, he'd got more focus, and he viewed it as an atonement for his not being there to protect Sally, then it could've been really poignant, but it comes super-early in proceedings, and it's framed as a culmination of Antoine's growth from being a coward, an arc across the wider book that ended years ago, than it was as part of the current proceedings. He spends the rest of the arc in a coma, and never wakes up before the reboot.

And, bear in mind, according to Lost Hedgehog Tales, this was supposed to be his death. He was going to be killed off here, and they only changed their minds because of negative online reactions to how bleak the story had been since Issue 225. Either way, it's still a wrap on Antoine, written out of the story completely before it's even finished its opening act.

Nicole, then. Nicole has by far the most reasons to be a main character here. Not only is she Sally's other best friend, but her feelings probably run deeper than that (Even before it was fully intended, Sallicole still had better chemistry than like 90% of the other pairings in the book, I read Stargazing, you can't fool me), and a big part of the last major arc was Sally freeing Nicole from the Iron Queen's control, an event that's still relevant at this point in the comic. The most fulfilling conclusion to that subplot is to have Nicole be part of the protagonist group, actively trying to return the favour and free Sally from Eggman. It's so damn obvious!

And there's no reason to not do it either. Eggman has found a way to protect Mecha Sally from being hacked, so Nicole can't just end the story in Issue 236, they have to actually capture her and get the Power Ring Matrix turned off before Nicole can do her thing. Likewise, Nicole has no reason to stay at home, she's been exiled from the city, so why not join the quest to save the person she cares about more than anyone else? Oh, her handheld form was destroyed? Make a new one. Or make a body out of nanites, we've seen that the nanites don't lose cohesion outside of the city, because Rotor can take his nanite armour to Artika without it immediately dissolving. She has every reason to be there and no reason not to be.

So what does she do in the book? She goes into an angst coma, hashes things out with Mina, makes some natty uniforms for the Secret Freedom Fighters, and then gets unexiled because Naugus is a failure. That's it. She never leaves Freedom HQ or Mobotropolis for the entire storyline.

Finally, Elias. Elias isn't a slouch, he's plenty capable of being a badass on his own. His sister has been enslaved and he just so happened to lose his position as king on the same day. Much like Nicole, there's no reason for him to not go after her and try to save her. Plus, Elias going into open combat with Eggman would be an opportunity to have an actual confrontation between the leaders of these warring factions, even if Elias isn't currently in charge of the Republic of Acorn. And it would be another point of contrast between him and his father: Max basically only left Knothole for glad-handing tours of the kingdom and was an asshole to his family, so here's Elias going out and fighting for his people, protecting them from Eggman's attacks, and moving heaven and earth to save his sister. And it would be much more satisfying for Elias to win back the support that Naugus stole from him through heroism rather than simply undoing Naugus' mind control by way of "Naugus had a headache."

So... the actual book, then? Elias basically retires, avoids being assassinated twice, the first time because Eggman just gives up, the second time because Mecha Sally doesn't know what a back door is, and then he becomes a secret agent and spends pretty much all his time trying to get his throne back. He ends up tied far more to the political subplot revolving around the crown, which is a giant bugbear all of its own, so that's a gripe for another day.

What we get instead of the above group of characters, who really should be the ones saving Sally, are the SEGA trio of Sonic, Tails and Amy.

As I said above, Sonic should be there, and he also has to be there, but he can't carry a story that needs to be emotionally harrowing at this point in the comic. SEGA are already creeping in and trying to dumb him down to the "COOL WHOA YEAH" flat character he became in their games. He's not allowed to love, he's not allowed to cry, he's not allowed to lose. They're peeling the soul out of the character and this is the worst possible time for that to happen, because it takes all the tension out of the story. It's hard to feel the alleged direness of the situation when the literal main protagonist is going "Hey guys, let's have a contest to see who can break the most robots!" and saying "Ah well, we'll get her next time!" as he stands in place and watches Mecha Sally fly away for the third time in a row.

Tails could be a resonant character for this story, but he just... kinda isn't. He and Sally have long had a surrogate familial bond, but it's been largely unexplored for a long time now, and has fallen almost completely by the wayside since Amadeus and Rosemary came back. Tails as a character kinda got left in the lurch by the comics, the Great Harmony was partially done for him, by a machine, while he was asleep, and then Flynn said that he lost all of his powers except flight off-panel. How he feels about the Love Triangle Pileup is pretty much entirely glossed over. Any weight that could be applied to him finally getting his parents back, only to find that they've become assholes that are enamoured with the politics of a planet that imprisoned them for the better part of a decade due to guilt by association, and care more about advancing their agenda and being dicks to his friends than they do about him is stymied by SEGA banning him from acknowledging that they're his parents.

And the Mecha Sally arc didn't really change that for him. He's just there. This Tails at least knows how to throw a damn punch, unlike the way the games were using him at the time, but he's not exactly setting the world on fire. He's just... present.

What would've been cool is if Tails' main role in this story was being the one to finally build a Deroboticizer. He's the one that finally figures out how to undo Eggman's greatest weapon of enslavement. Let his technological skills be used for more than repairing a plane and building a vaguely uncanny robot dog.

And Amy... I feel like Issue 239 really wants us to buy that Amy and Sally are now close friends, but the comic hasn't done nearly enough legwork before this point to actually sell that. I buy that they're friends. I don't buy that they're best friends, and the result is that her focal scenes feel like a store-brand substitute for what we could've had with Bunnie or Nicole present.

Besides that, Amy still faces the same "Emotional range constrained by SEGA" problems as Sonic and Tails, both to a lesser and greater extent than they do. Lesser, because SEGA has always allowed Amy to be more emotional than either of her teammates (I wonder why...), so she still gets to motivate Sonic by getting angry, which is a good scene for her. Greater, because at the time, the most recent main series game was Sonic Generations, so SEGA is still presenting Amy as a character who considers Sonic more important than breathing. We're a long way out from them trying to unfuck her character still, and that means that when Amy has to have her Mandatory Flirting With Sonic Quota moments, she's... flirting with a guy who is actively fighting to save his brainwashed girlfriend.

And that's not a criticism of Amy herself, I know people get rather defensive about modern Amy, so I'm making it clear that I'm not saying that Amy is a bad character because of this. Rather, I consider the presence of the Obligatory Reminder That Amy Loves Sonic moments to be a disservice to Amy's character. She should have the emotional intelligence to know that this is not the time. It turns her previous decision that she's okay to wait for Sonic to reciprocate her affections into "Sally has been out of the picture for 0.5 picoseconds, time to get me some Sonic!"

And the thing is, it didn't need to be this way. Ian Flynn has confirmed that making Sonic, Tails, and Amy the sole main characters of the comic for the majority of the Mecha Sally arc was his decision and his decision alone. He chose this. He wanted them to be in the spotlight for a while because the previous few arcs had put more attention on Sally, Bunnie, Rotor, and Nicole. And that's fine, that makes sense, if you're writing a long-running story with multiple smaller arcs and a large ensemble cast, it makes sense to shuffle which of of that cast are the foremost characters from arc to arc. But "Sally gets roboticized and everyone has to save her" was not the arc to do that with.

Other stories could be told with the SEGA trio, this one needed Archie characters in the limelight to sell the weight and the stakes, and it needed the characters who were closest to Sally to achieve the maximum emotional resonance that a story this fraught should have.

It could've been great. As it stands... it's easily the nadir of Flynn's run on the book, and for a bunch more reasons besides this one. I'll cover those another time, for now this is about as much grumbling as I'm willing to do, but I'll certainly come back to "Arcan Grumbles About Mecha Sally" or whatever eventually.

[catsandgoodbooks]

No. 31: “I thought that I was getting better.”

Emptiness | Setbacks | “Take it easy.”

If you're wondering what the context is there is none. Somehow Staged Duo joined up with the Syndicate and now they live together also it's been a bit over a year since the prison arc happened. Everyone else either left the server or died. What happened right before this? Who knows!

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

Dream felt Punz’s presence behind him, hesitating in front of the doorway. He didn’t know what to think about it. Maybe he’d usually be nervous, paranoid, wanting everyone to stay in his line of sight. Or maybe he’d felt comforted that they were there with him, that he wasn’t alone. Right now, Dream just felt empty, numb, drained, a well run dry. He had already shed all of his tears.

“You can sit,” Dream told them idly. He knew why Punz was here. He just wanted to get this over with.

Punz carefully stepped over to the bench Dream was sitting on and sat down. “How are you doing?” they asked, softly, gently. They were trying not to spook him, trying to make sure he wouldn’t run.

Dream shrugged. “Could be worse.” He glanced away from them, looking off into the bleak arctic landscape. Techno found something beautiful in it, though Dream wasn’t sure what it was. Peace, probably, but it wasn’t the sort of peace Dram was looking for. Being alone was never peaceful, tranquil, for him. It just made everything worse.

Dream jumped a little when Punz placed their hand on his arm, and glanced back at their still, serious face. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, but I just want you to know that it’s normal. Things get worse before they get better sometimes. Recovery’s never a straight line. You shouldn’t–beat yourself over what happened, man.”

Dream slipped his arm out of their grasp, too tired to exert any force but still wanting to escape, to get away from them and everyone else and the world itself. He curled in on himself. “I was doing so well, Punz. I was getting better. I thought I was getting better.”

“You are getting better. Just because this morning was–bad doesn’t mean things can’t improve. We just have to take it easy.”

“I know. But…but it’s just so hard sometimes. And then stuff like that happens, even though it’s been what, a year–”

“And it seems hopeless,” Punz finished for him.

Dream nodded. “Exactly.” They understood. They always did.

“I know,” Punz agreed. “You’re not the only one who has to fight that battle. Hell, most of us do now, because nobody’s allowed to be happy and stay that way around here. But things can get better. They don’t always, but they can, and that’s the important thing.”

Dream pushed himself up. On the horizon, the sun slowly crept its way across the sky, casting everything in pale blue and pink. “I guess. Things go on, no matter what.” Even if you don’t want them to.

Punz nodded. “Yeah. And that’s all that really matters. Because there’s always another chance, and another, and another. As long as you keep giving yourself those chances, you’ll keep getting them. Other people,” they rolled their eyes, “won’t, of course, but who fucking cares about them. Nothing’s permanent and neither are they.”

Dream intertwined his fingers, bony and numb from being out of the cold, with Punz’s, warm and their weight almost comforting. “I’m permanent. We both are. We’ll always be here. We’ll never die.”

A smile danced onto Punz’s lips. “We’ll still change. We can’t do anything about it, but that doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing.”

“Of course not.” Dream leaned back, resting his head on Punz’s shoulder. “We can change. We can get better.” They squeezed his fingers reassuringly.

And there they sat, two lovers and liars and legends, but oh so simply, painfully human. And, for that moment, out in the snow and the cold but with a promise of a warm hearth behind them and a bright future, the tantalizing unknown, a promise that things will get better, in front of them, that was all they were. That was all that mattered. That was all that had ever mattered, even though neither of them had realized it until now. But they knew that now, and now that was the only thing that mattered.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Being in a relationship with Tokuno’o Tokumichi...

You were annoyed to be forced to move to another country, let alone one that doesn’t speak your language, yet here you were, in Russia, a fresh student at one of the most prestigious Universities from Moscow.

Your parents sent you here to take care of your twin brother who wanted to become a pro-Sambo fighter, and what better place to learn it, then its own mother country?

Your parents clearly didn’t trust your dumbass brother to live by himself in a foreign country... So you were left to mostly care for the home, food and expenses. but also your studies, while all he does is eat and exorbitant amount of food and work out... And it’s still him that complains.

You’re always there for him when he’s at the club’s practice gym and you encourage him... But you can clearly see it’s not exactly the type of sport he’d excel in - You still support him though, he’s your brother and that’s his dream!

One day, at your University, you go to eat your lunch outside, under a tree, only to spot a Japanese man! Finally, you’re not alone in this sea of natives! 

You timidly go to him and smile, asking if you can sit by him. “Hi, I hope I’m not disturbing you... I just haven’t seen a familiar face in a while.” The brunet man looked up from his book, eyes wide in surprise at hearing his mother tongue, and he gives a kind smile. “Of course.” he scoots over, allowing you enough space to lean on the great oak. “Did you already eat your lunch?” you asked, a bit unsure of how to start a conversation with a stranger. He shook his head. “I forgot to take it in the morning.” he didn’t seem to bothered by it though. “Here. We can share. I always have a spare pair of chopsticks with me.” you rummage through your bag, handing him the said chopsticks - Though, amusingly for him, they were patterned with pink flowers. So childish. “You needn’t...” hit stomach growled loudly, making him blush in surprise. “....Thank you.” “I hope you like it. I haven’t really gotten used to using foreign ingredients yet, but I suppose my brother doesn’t really complain, so it’s fine.” you chuckle leisurely - You seemed so casual and easy going when talking to him, he noted. As soon as he tried some of the food, his eyes widened, and he nodded. “It’s good.” he said. If he were his mum, he might have said - You’ll be a good wife one day - Or some silly thing that many Japanese women always say as a compliment. “I’m happy that you like it.” you smiled sweetly at him. “My name’s Y/N, by the way.” what a pretty name, he thought, saying your name in his mind a few times. “Tokuno’o Tokumichi.” what a mouthful, he thought - What was in his father’s head when he named him that? “Oh, the virtuous one! Double the virtue - I wonder which two of the seven virtues do you embody.” he chuckled lightly, a bit flustered by her question. “Can I call you Nitoku?” “Nitoku?” that was quite the clever nickname you came up for him on the spot. He quite liked it. “Sure. I like it.” he smiled at you.  “So... What do you study?” good question. “Literature.” he stated. “I studied Literature in Japan, but I moved here to learn broaden my horizons.” “Ohh, an intellectual~! I’ve always loved reading all kinds of literature from different cultures. Now that you mention... Many of our authors have such a unique but also... What’s the word... Blank? Tragic? Spiraling? Take Dazai for example - There’s beauty in reading about all those characters and watching them destroy their own lives. But then, there’s Russian authors like Dostoevsky and Tolstoy, and though their worlds are also bleak and depressing, the exposition is completely different - Don’t you think?” Nitoku was in love.

That day, you exchanged phone numbers, and from then on, no matter what Uni schedule he had, he’d pick you up from your home and walk you back - More, he’d walk you to your own classes, even if that meant being a bit late himself.

Will continue complimenting your food even if it’s a sandwich - The mere fact that you think of him means a lot.

Loves to drink coffee with you while you stroll through the park - You could be watching the leaves fall, or admire the pretty flowers, and it would be perfect for him.

If it gets cold Nitoku will always wear a scarf, just so he would put it around your neck - Suddenly, you lost your own scarf and don’t have the money to spare. You both know it’s a life.

You’re his biggest supporter when it comes to his dream of becoming an author, and you even help him come up with a cool pen name - Onomichi Nitoku.

He has you proof read all his manuscripts, and though you give some advice here and there, you don’t really have the heart to tell him that his writing... Kinda... Sucks.

He’s an incredibly intelligent and shrewd man, and he worked so hard to achieve his dream... How could you ruin his ambitions?

When he was able to create his first book, you were the first person to receive it - And you asked for his autograph, saying he’s the first famous person you’ve ever met and it’s an honour.

He hugged you so tightly, and his otherwise lethargic and blank expression was filled with pure joy and bliss - It hurt your heart to lie to him.

But going through that book was a whole chore in itself... And it wasn’t a short read.

In complete anti-thesis with his sheer glee, when he was told by his publicist that his books barely had any sales, his mood became lower than the Mariana Trench.

With the little money you had, you went to the bookstore and bought all his copies, begging the man at the counter not to tell anyone that it was a single person doing that  - And with no idea what to do with just about 20 books, you donated them to literature clubs and libraries around the capital.

He took you out on a date when he got the money.

You felt so guilty, but still didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth... Yet you feared every day that when he does eventually find out, he will be so angry with you that he’ll stop being your friend - That thought alone almost made you burst into tears every time you saw him.

You soon found out Nitoku is a shit-spender and goes through his money like a sugar baby - It was absolutely hilarious, seeing this grown man be so irresponsible with his own hard-worked money.

You volunteered to help him out with the finances, but it barely helped at all, as he ended up getting his hands on the emergency money, under the pretext of an urgent need to buy a fountain pen.

A highly expensive, historical fountain pen that was said to have been used by Tolstoy himself.

He fell for the marketing gimmick. 

For how intelligent he was, he sure had his dumb side sometimes.

“I should start training in a fighting sport.” you hear him say all of a sudden, realising his wallet was completely empty and you were forced to pay for the delivery food. “I though you said you hated them. Well... Your sturdy body, rather.” you were shocked to hear him change his views after almost a year of being headstrong with his writing. “I don’t earn enough from writing, and I’m fed up with you needing to take care of me. You have your own home to take care of, and another deadbeat man to feed. I’ve forced your hand and finances way too many times. If I want to properly grow and become a responsible adult, I have to find alternatives... And unfortunately, this cursed body of mine earned a ton of invites from various sport clubs.” you felt bad that he’s forced to deter from his own path and dream, but it was a rational choice, and you were very proud of him. “Do you want me to introduce you to my brother’s Sambo club? I don’t want to sound as if I’m objectifying you or anything, but you don’t workout, yet you’re a literal powerhouse. You won’t even need to workout much to get any stronger - If you just work on your techniques, you’ll be immediately a favourite. It’s all about the legs, grapplers, wrestling and throws. Considering that your biceps looks to be as big as my thigh, I think you’ll be fine.” you pat his head, seeing him sigh in defeat. “But if you do end up with Sambo as your fighting style and you want to branch into MMA... Please take care of that pretty face of yours. It would be a pity if it got all messed up.” “Y/N!” he scolded you for teasing him. “Fine. Sign me up.”

The next day, you took Nitoku to your brother’s club and introduced him to the coach, who immediately saw the potential in him and started training him properly.

It got your brother jealous enough to provoke him into a duel just a week after he signed up.

Your brother got absolutely obliterated, to the point of crying.

You couldn’t stop laughing.

Despite all his workout and training, your brother still was half of every one of Toku’s proportions, and somehow, his technique was still shit, even a year later.

He should have listened to your advice and gone for a combat sport that had soft techniques as a base.

Of course, you praised your boyfriend for being so cool, and he only looked away, closing his gaping robe properly - He didn’t know why, but he still felt shy around you.

And he didn’t even kiss you properly yet. He was a mess.

That night, you ended up in a one-sided fight with your brother, and not wanting to bother with him, you went to sleep over at Toku’s until he calmed down.

He was dying inside - And you could see it. He was adorable.

As expected, over the months since he started his pro-fighter career, he started earning a lot of money from every fight - And as you suggested, he branched into MMA and he was doing fantastically well, winning each and every one of his fights - He was the new big sensation.

You ended up asking him to teach you Systema, under the guise of self-defense lessons - But really, considering Systema was the ultimate self-defense style used against even weapons, and it had no fixed style, but it relied on fluidity and intuition - Which meant you didn’t need the body of a mountain to be good at it.

But Nitoku was afraid to actually train with you.

He saw perfectly well what a misaimed punch from him could do to trained fighters - He could break you so easily.

Instead, he let you practice on him - You knew the theory, but putting it in practice was completely different.

And sweeping at his feet was a complete failure - That man was the most gravitationally stable person in the world, he wouldn’t even budge an inch - It was almost frustrating.

You ended up nicknaming him ‘Rhodes’, as the Colossus from Rhodes.

But there came a day when Nitoku was acting completely out of character, and he seemed visibly frustrated for some reason.

Despite all your comforting and asking what happened - He had the weirdest suggestion - He wanted to help you practice. He never suggests it himself. It was peculiar behaviour out of him.

Instead of allowing you to make the first move, he was the one to go towards you, and in spite of the good technique that you attempted, he simply picked you up with ease and wrestled you to the ground.

Not that he hurt you - He made sure his arm was underneath your body so that all the impact would go to him instead.

You looked up at him with questioning eyes - All while his own bore into yours. This staredown made you feel incredibly uncomfortable and vulnerable, especially as you were caged between his body and arms with no way of running away.

“Why did you lie to me?” your eyes went wide from the implication, though you had no idea what he meant. “Why did you encourage me if you knew my writing sucked?” So this was what it was all about. “Far worse people, with barely any education became best-selling authors. Look at the Twilight franchise, or that 50 Shades of whatever. If they could do it - Why not you? It’s your dream, and you worked so hard for it. Why wouldn’t I encourage you?” you asked. “Besides - I don’t think your writing sucks.” “Then why didn’t you tell me that you were the one who bought 20 books in a day? I should have known that was impossible.” you couldn’t help but chuckle in guilt. “Ah... Y-You found out...” he grunted in affirmation. “...I did it to see you smile.” “...Huh?” his eyes snapped wide open, and he drew slightly backwards. “Remember how happy you were when the editors sent you the first book? When you were finally able to publicize it? We’ve known each other for over a year now, and not once have I seen you that happy.” his heart sank. “When the editors told you that your work wasn’t selling well, you fell into a deep depression, remember? For weeks, you haven’t smiled even once. I couldn’t bare to see you that upset, it was the most painful thing to see.” “So you threw your money to buy a bunch of books you don’t even like.” he sighed, gingerly letting go of you. “I wouldn’t call it throwing money away - That’s irresponsible spending. I did it for a good cause. I wanted to protect that precious smile and heart of yours.”  you confessed. “I really... Really... Can’t stand seeing you sad.” “...You are an idiot.” at first, that insult surprised you - But then, you realised having mentioned how much you enjoyed reading The Idiot by Dostoevsky, and you smiled. “Prince Myschkin style?” he nodded, looking away. “Incisive, an intellectual, emotionally intelligent, wise... And of an absolutely beautiful nature.” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to get so upset over nothing. Did I hurt you?” “Nope.” you popped. “But you are hurt.” he looked at you with an inquiring eyebrow. “This little one is, at least.” you crawled over onto his lap and touched his chest through the gape in his lose yukata. “Can you promise me something?” “What is it?” Toku was so confused, while at the same time, the anticipation was killing him.  “Promise me that no matter what, you will follow the path that makes you happy - Okay? I want you to have a happy life, and I want to see you smile.”

That was the moment when Tokuno’o Tokumichi first kissed you.

And he will kiss you many, many more from then on.

You would also play-wrestle whenever either of you wanted to steal a kiss - But Toku would always make sure he is the one to fall on the ground, and you, on him, so you wouldn’t get hurt.

When you express your concern for all the times he slams his back onto the ground, he gives you a cheeky smirk, saying he enjoys the view and the closeness.

And would always put a hand behind your head and pull you into a heated kissing session.

Would also ask you to move in with him when you return to Japan, after you’re done with your studies - And of course, you agree.

Thank goodness, you finally ditch your brother.

Nitoku tries, and fails, again to deliver multiple best-selling books, which ends up with him joining the underground fighting and winning a shit ton of money.

Only to end up spending it like it was nothing.

It actually shocked you as you genuinely had no idea where all that money went.

He ended up begging you to take a large percentage of his earned money and put it in a bank, on your shared account... That he has no access to. Keep that money for bills and emergencies and what not. 

And definitely never tell him the details of the account, or he’s screwed.

You get to cheer him on for all of his underground fights and he won all of his match - Except for one that left him in recovery for half a year.

You didn’t imagine someone would be able to give Toku a hard time - And though it was a close call, Kano Agito did win, in the end.

Thank goodness you had kept all that money, so now you needn’t worry about anything except helping him recover.

He had six months of getting better and indulging constantly in his passion of writing.

Soon, he retired from fighting.

Until... To return 2 months later, because he had wasted all the money. Again.

At this point, it was getting hilariously tragic.

And from the man who took up fighting at 20 years old because of lack of money to support his living expenses and those of of his publishing editor...

He was now a 35 year old man, who has an on and off relationship with underground fighting... To sustain his living expenses and passion.

This man loves calligraphy, and would practice his ink-writing on expensive scrolls that mimic the feudal era ones. If he’s satisfied with the end result of whatever either stand alone symbol or poem verse that he wrote, he will end up hanging it on the wall.

On New Year, especially, he writes a new word that works as a resolution for the whole year round.

Beauty. Strength. Happiness. Balance. Love. Freedom. Fortune. Luck. Perseverance. Discipline. Kindness.

He also loves to read with his head resting on your lap, and if you don’t have your hand in his hair, playing with it, he will grasp your hand and bury it in his soft, dark locks.

He takes you with him for every eye-check, and has you choose his glasses frame.

Nitoku also loves to cuddle with you when you go to sleep, and will read you to sleep if you like it. His voice is so soothing, with his baritone, velvety tone of his, you can’t resist.

He loves it when you nuzzle into the crook of his neck - But he’s also a bit ticklish, so he might end up chuckling randomly, or even a little twitch here and there.

He claims that playing with your hair and petting it as if you’re a cat relaxes him and helps him focus on his work.

You have mixed feelings about getting gifts from him - Although you always feel flattered that he thinks of you with every step he takes... He also is one foot away from ending up in debt if he continues to spoil you.

Nitoku basically ends up as a househusband and you don’t have to do anything, because unlike him, you’re actually working a job and you’re exhausted enough as it is.

At the same time, he actively goes grocery shopping and lives for the days when you feel like cooking something - Even if your cooking isn’t actually all that good, he’d be so happy that you made him something. He’ll eat everything and ask for seconds.

Though he’s not a fan of PDA, preferring to keep things private, he doesn’t mind holding your hand or keeping his arm around your body.

When he is recruited for the Kengan vs Purgatory Tournament, he has you leaning against his side on the plane while he’s reading.

And at the arena, he plays with your fingers to keep himself calm and grounded.

Ends up breaking down all fights to explain them to you - You really loved hearing him speak.

It was awful seeing him lose because of a ring-out, as it was a coward’s win. If the enemy was a true fighter, he’d have won with a knockout.

You spent the rest of the day comforting him and telling him that he’s the strongest man you’ve ever met, and that he deserved to be declared the real winner.

He felt much better. 

This man loves putting his haori over your shoulders when you go out and it gets slightly chilly - You’re absolutely adorable, covered with his large clothes.

Goes crazy when you wear a yukata. Absolutely feral.

Will end up spending all the money he gets from a fight to get you a shit ton of kimono, yukata, sandals, haori and accessories of every kind.

You might end up buying a new house to store everything he gifts you because you don’t have enough space in your own home anymore.

If you’re okay with going out with him wearing traditional clothes, he will take an infinite amount of pictures of either you alone, or the two of you.

They end up as his phone lock screen and wallpaper.

Would love to help you put on the kimono or even do your hairstyle for you.

Also loves to watch you do your make up - It’s an art for him, and he might even end up asking if he can put lipstick or eyeshadow on for you.

He especially loves applying lip gloss because he ends up tracing his thumb over your bottom lip.

But as soon as he applies the lip gloss, it’s transferred to his own lips, because he immediately ends up pulling you into deep, passionate kisses.

Also, when you get back home, you end up getting intimate, yukata barely on, and very much disheveled.

Nitoku uses different kinds of nicknames for you when in private, many of them including cute words of endearment like Zayka Moya, Milaya, Lyubimaya and many others.

At the end of the day though, he loved your name the most.

And to call you “My Love”

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

Being in a relationship with Wakatsuki Takeshi... Being in a relationship with Yoroizuka Saw Paing... Being in a relationship with Kure Raian... Being in a relationship with Tokuno’o Tokumichi... Being in a relationship with Kano Agito... Being in a relationship with Gaolang Wongsawat... Being in a relationship with Gaoh Ryuki... Being in a relationship with Narushima Koga...

[lizard-shifter-noms]

Wayward Waters Epilogue

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Ayy, Epilogue already? that was fast! but i have good news!

i have re-edited arc 1 (removed typos, made it more comprehensible etc. also shorter chapters so its not a wall of text anymore) so i will upload that some time after!

this Story contains Vore, Dont like dont read.

have fun reading!

and as always Reblogs are appreciated! (Also ASK’s are open so feel free to bother me!)

AO3 Link for those that prefer the layout there;

AO3 Wayward waters

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After the Victory Rose had anchored,  with the smaller Halcyon close behind we were finally home.

Not wanting to spend too much time in Tunstead lest there was a repeat of Naroa Island and someone didn't like that there were Nonhumans visiting.

Not like Rikaad would allow that but there were always assholes.

So instead we went straight for the castle, none of the crew of the Halcyon having seen a building this big before, or confusingly built.

Which was very evident as half of them got lost in less than half an hour.

At least Imugi had fun doing figures around the spikes at the bottom of the cliff.

We found them about two hours later, Jamie having been chased out of the kitchen like some raccoon and Ronan got brought outside by Norrin, who had scruffed him like a disobedient dog.

For some reason the Grumpy young man Leon came with us to the castle and refused to say much or leave.

We left him for now,  with Nea and Norrin around there wasn't much he could do.

I shooed the Crew to Okaleys tower,  he would have more information about the blue bracelet anyway.

Yamet had opted to tour the kitchen, stating the others could tell him later and that he'd rather see if he could trade recipes.

The tower itself was as askew and unorderly as always,  and we hadn't even knocked.

The door was missing completely anyway for some reason so we simply walked in.

I did come as a surprise though that Nea was in here,  holding a brown creature with white spots on its back.

At first I thought she was holding a fawn, but then I noticed the longer neck and nubby horns as well as the claws and long tail.

“Nea? Where the FUCK did you get a baby Drake?”

The thing in question made horrifyingly pitiful bleaking noises,  pawing uselessly at the air as Nea held it like a particularly squirmy cat.

Though it was more the size of a young goat.

“I found it! So I get to keep it!”

I was not about to Argue with her, she'd kick my ass,  Instead I stared confusedly at Oakley, who was painting the cat blue.

Oh so one of those days where nothing made sense involving him.

“Oakley, why are you painting the cat blue?, and why does Nea have a baby Drake?”

He turned to face us and shrugged.

“No idea what the insane lady here is doing but i'm trying to figure out what magic affinity our dear kitty here has! 

The paint is made of lapis lazuli by the way!

Now say who are those people behind you and why is the Zoa trying to pocket some of my Gems?”

I looked over at Jamie who hastily put some sort of clear crystal back onto a shelf.

“Uh, those are friends i made while on the ocean, long story i'll tell you later, but uhh we found another Bracelet, its blue this time”

I pointed at Ronan who in turn pointed at the Bracelet on his arm.

In less than a Second Oakley had gripped his arm with one foot and was hanging onto the wall with the other, inspecting the new Bracelet up close and with no regard for personal space.

Ronan just stared confused at Oakley, though to be fair he was already used to having to be a Perch for jamie.

“Did the creature look anything like the Ardua?”

No that it did not.

“Uh, no, it was more like a seal with big and flat hands and a long tail with a fin, does it have its own name?”

Oakley Jumped of off Ronan and walked back to where he was, rummaging through his coat a bit before pulling out a Book.

While he flipped pages, and apparently had trouble reading it? The Cat, Gloxinia trailed blue paint everywhere, jumping up the windowsill and bapping at the very confused baby Drake Nea was still holding.

The poor thing probably had a very weird day,  getting manhandled by a quite frankly rather crazy woman and then getting disrespected like that by a cat.

The thing bleaked again, trying to wind itself out of Nea’s Grip,  yeah that would be futile.

“AHA! Found it! I think translating is gonna take a while seeing as the author changes the stupid coded letters every five pages! 

And language as well!, tell ya what, imma deal with Nea now and then go back to translating, you can come back after Dinner or so”

That was reasonable, and Jamie and Akeem had left already anyway, leaving only Ronan and Imik here.

No doubt Akeem went after Jamie to prevent chaos,  and they took the clear crystal from the shelf again.

Nea set the confused Drake on Oakley table where it did a wide stance as if it couldn't decide between fight or flight,  not that either would be a good idea with Nea here.

“So! Arthur got all pissy when I brought ta lil guy with me! Said just cuz i got rid of tha big one din’ mean i could keep tha smaller one!

I say tha only one that can tell me what ta do is Rikaad! 

And i want you ta tell me what exactly this is so i can ask to keep it,  or him or her or whatever!”

The thing in question made another bleaking Noise, sniffing at the table and looking over the edge of it.

Ronan put his face close to it and the thing screeched horribly, scrambling and slipping on the old wood and nearly falling off.

In response to that Nea tossed Ronan out, literally, she tossed him out the window and Imik walked out after him to make sure he was okay.

Since Ronan had landed in a bush he only had some dirt on him, and after that they both wanted to look around the castle more instead of being near Nea.

Yeah, fair, I did however want to see how the entire Drake thing would play out so we parted ways and I went back inside where Oakley was just telling Nea that the little guy was a male.

“I'd say it's a young male,  the spots have the same reason as fawn spots, they fade with time and he should get some more tan and brown colors. 

I can't say what species exactly yet but it's possible he'll get stripes,  or colored horns.

If you're sure you wanna try taming him go ahead, i can't guarantee anything but i sure am gonna watch you try, you'd probably be the first to do that, well to be fair you gotta be a bit insane to try”

A bit was good, but I also wasn't exactly fond of anyone trying to kill something so young, and thus far the little guy hadn't done anything.

As it was he was even afraid of the cat, who was still covered in blue paint and attempting to groom him.

All that did was cover him in blue paint too and he looked rather miserable at that.

While Nea argued with Oakley about what size he could reach, apparently Nea had expected something big like a dragon but Oakley estimated something slightly larger than a horse,  so I held out my hand to the strangely fluffy creature. 

All in all it looked scraggly and scruffy,  the only scaled parts being the legs and sand colored underside as well as the rather beak-like snout that seemed to be made of cartilage.

It tentatively sniffed at my hand, bonking its head against it.

Then Gloxinia wanted all the attention and I had to pet her with the other hand while the goat sized creature was inspecting my hand with its amber colored eyes.

Maybe Ronan would have some tips for Nea since he’d sorta raised Imugi already.

I was handed a blue stained cat by Oakley who told me to go wash the color off before she decided to lick it off.

“You want me to wash a cat? 

A cat of all things who are not known for liking water?”

“Yeah! Good luck!”

And with that he shoved me out, not even saying if he'd figured out if Gloxinia had any magic or magic type.

Well, better get this over with,  I wasn't even sure if the paint was edible so she probably shouldn't lick it even if that was how cats normally cleaned themselves.

Ignoring that my own shirt had gotten blue in places,  I went to the next best water source and tried my best to keep a hold of Gloxinia who definitely did not like water.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

I looked up to see that Leon guy.

“Oakley put paint on the cat, i'm trying to get it off before she licks it,  but i don't think she likes water”

Leon stuck his hand into the water bucket,  taking it back out and flicking water at me.

“Yeah no shit, thats cold water, why the fuck would wold a cat like that, try warm water next time dipshit”

Rude, at least I was trying, and not letting her eat paint.

“You do it then! If you're so much better at that!”

At the moment neither the cat nor me were happy about it.

“Aight, bet”

With that he grabbed both Gloxinia and the bucket, slinging the cat half over his shoulder and dragging the bucket to who knew where.

Well, at least I didn't have to do it now.

And judging by the fact that Gloxinia tried rubbing her head against his ear she was also rather happy about that.

Whatever, if that guy thought warm water would make her hate it less he was free to try.

Now where did everyone else go? 

Hopefully none of them got into trouble.

As it turned out they just had gotten lost in the castle again,  which we only found out because Jamie walked along the outside of it to try and get someone that knew where the fuck everything was.

Yamet however was found in the kitchen, 

talking and working with Myril so we left them to it, whatever they were doing smelled really good so we were not going to interrupt.

As expected when two very good cooks were put in the same kitchen, Dinner tasted amazing, some sort of Goulash that heavily utilized spices.

Yamet was probably the one that had brought the spices.

After that I brought Ronan back to Oakleys tower,  also rather curious about whatever he found out.

We did do a little detour though as apparently Nea had decided to train her new Pet like a Dog, including the command to fetch things.

Well, things, she let it chase a rat carcass she had tied to some other poor Guard that had to run laps to avoid the little beast.

Not something anyone wanted to be involved in.

“Is she trying to train the Drake?”

“I think so, but i don't think she knows how to,  how did you know how to take care of Imugi?”

He shrugged.

“Fuck around find out really, Imugi was easy cuz she loved doing what i was doing, also i was the first thing Imugi saw when she hatched so i guess she imprinted on me? I'm not entirely sure she knew she was a sea creature for the first few months.

Also I gave her treats when she did good things. 

Maybe I can talk to the lady there later and see if I can help! 

I've never really seen a Drake this close! Or young!”

“You do that, 

i'm not entirely sure she won't tell the little guy to bite you though”

I Wouldn't put it past her to do that, Besides we had other stuff to do first.

So, Ignoring whatever torment Nea brought upon everyone else,  I knocked on the doorframe to Oakley tower, the Door itself still missing.

“Ah there you are! Come in! I accidentally melted the door anyway!”

I kept quiet about wondering how the fuck someone could melt a Door on accident.

“Did you find out more about the Blue bracelet? 

Does the water creature also have a name?”

Oakley wordlessly pointed at two chairs and told us to sit down, 

heaving the book he rummaged for earlier onto the table.

Flipping pages around he stopped on a depiction of the creature Ronan turned into, though the drawing on the old paper depicted spots Ronan did not have as well as a different tailfin and a more brownish coloration.

But it was still the same creature, the depiction surrounded by runes and letters that were absolute gibberish to me.

Oakley pointed at it.

“So from what I found out this is a Faraselgi,  and it's basically the same principle as for the Ardua just with a water element instead of an earth one, the rest is pretty much the same.

Well that far we got ourselves already.

“Anything else about it? Or is that all?”

I would have expected it to have at least a few more differences.

“Nope! Aside from the different creatures, which are really just based on environmental factors, it's pretty much the same!

What? Did you think the blue one got superpowers or something?”

Of course not, but after being able to turn into an Ardua I couldn't exactly know what to expect regarding those Bracelets.

“How much is the same? I mean I know about the two hearts thing, 

Is the rest also the same?”

Ronan asked, brow creasing as he tried to read the absolute mishmash of letters and runes, clearly not getting anything from that.

Oakley just nodded.

“Well yes, if you take aside the tailfin shorter hind legs and stupidly big paddle shaped grabbers it is very similar!

Oh also your thoracic vertebrates are longer,  so you sort of got a mock fin on your back, but it's technically bone”

There was the weird thing,  of course there had to have been at least one weird thing about it.

Well, weirder than it already was at least.

“So I got more bones? Awesome! Do they have a function too?”

Leave it to the biologist to find that exciting.

“I don't think so, maybe helps with balance,  don't go around trying to remove them”

A fair warning considering this was Ronan.

“Don't worry! I'm not gonna vivisect myself! 

Jamie and Imik would beat the shit out of me!”

That really shouldn't be his only concern here.

“Well then that's really all since you seem already familiar with it somehow! Just don't go around scaring people or you will find your head mounted to a wall someday!”

With that he picked up the book and shoved it back into his coat,  which shouldn't feasibly hold something that big.

“Hell yeah! Now I know what it's called! I'm gonna go tell the others! 

And Imugi! Imugi first! Before it gets dark! Byee!”

He rushed out the doorway,  well at least there would be a bit of daylight still.

“Does he know where he is going?”

“No i don't think so,  when i go back i'll inform someone to keep an eye out”

Eh, he'd be fine, he had a stupid amount of luck.

Besides, I did want to talk to Oakley a bit more.

My turn to say something that would throw him for a loop.

“I met your ex”

He spit out the tea he'd been sipping.

“What? Wait which one? 

Ah no considering where you were it can only be one”

Which one??? Dumbass, then again he was like what? Sixhundred?

It was likely he had more than one ex, or more than ten even.

“So, how is Grella doing? 

It's nice to hear she's still alive after all this time”

“She's kinda dying, just like magic,  but you knew that already didn't you?”

He stared into his mug.

“Kamerasca doesn't have any Ley lines, the closest one is where my old hut is, which is why I built it there, but yes, magic is dying.

I've noticed a long time ago,  but nobody I know could do anything about it. 

I can't do anything about it, and telling people brought nothing,  either rejoicing at the ‘evil’ becoming less or simply not caring considering it wasn't their problem.

The only ones that did care were the mages and wizards and the like,  I know a few Elemancers tried to figure out WHY it happened but when I got there they were dead already, stabbed in the back by someone that saw his magic as a curse rather than what it really was.

I debated telling you after I moved here,  but I didn't want to take your joy away so soon,  Besides, there is nothing you can do, and I didn't want to see anyone else get hurt trying to figure out what was going on with magic.

At first I even expected you guys to either not care or to actually care, and go off on some stupid mission to fix something that a mere human could never fix and die.

All the powerful and old magic users are either dead or somewhere in Valyria, which is very dangerous as is already, i bet even more died in the last two hundred years as most used magic to prolong their life.

But with magic dying all the old magic users will too, and Grella as well.

She's really the only one I feel sorry for.

How much time did she estimate?”

I stared at him, so he hadn't told me to not worry me,  but from what I gathered he would have told me eventually,  when it became relevant for me.

“She said about thirty years at most, she will die in less than twenty”

Oakley looked at his three fingered wing hand,  sadder than I had ever seen him.

“If i wasn't a coward i’d visit her, but alas i am just that”

“Why? She sounded like she still likes you, i don't think she’d hurt you”

He shook his head.

“No, i know she won't hurt me, we split because i could never really go dive into the depths with her, and the school i wanted to go to was a good bit inland, where she couldn't go, in the end our interests just didn't match anymore and we agreed both to call it off.

But there are things out there, that I made very angry,  people I made angry by obtaining what was considered forbidden knowledge.

If i were to go too far from Barmea and too close to Valyria again they would kill me, and they could make it permanent”

There was a lot I did not know about Oakley, but I knew he was not a bad person, why ever he had done it he would have had a reason to.

“So you're stuck on this continent? 

Wait, did you just live as a hermit for a few hundred years? 

No wonder you were so weird when we met you, you still are”

He puffed up indignantly.

“Well, social norms have changed a lot since I went into the forest! 

It's not my fault you humans can't stick with one thing!”

Well that was true.

“Fair, but I'm sure you could just have read up on it!”

He grinned, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

“Well i find the fuck around find out approach a lot more amusing! 

But if you insist I will head to the castle Library to get catched up now!

Also i need to get a new door, maybe i should do that first”

I looked at the doorway that let a cool breeze in.

“Yeah that has probably priority right now, well have fun repairing your door, i still need to say hi to Arthur, if i find him”

“Oh i think he fell asleep sorting paperwork!”

I nodded at Oakley and went back to the castle,  stopping briefly to grab the red blue and purple shell I had picked out for him, I did say I'd get him one.

Now I just had to find him.

Since every other hallway ended up in the throne room at one point or another that's where I went, and Rikaad and Robin were already there.

Rikaad stared with disdain at the needlessly pompous throne,  to be fair it did not look comfy at all.

“Hey! Have any of you seen Arthur? I did promise to bring him a shell"

I waved said shell in the air.

“I have not seen him, but he has to be around,  perhaps Norrin will know where-” Rikaad got interrupted by Arthur emerging from one of the side hallways.

“I hate the layout of this place! Oh you're all back!”

There was a Squeal and Robin rushed to hug the blonde, who had to hold a bunch of paper over his head to not get them scrunched up.

For some reason they had reddish brown stains in one corner.

Arthur nearly fell over if not for Rikaad grabbing his arm to keep steady.

Arthur awkwardly patted at Robin's messy head and I noticed that two of his fingers were in a splint.

“What happened to your fingers? Did Nea break them?”

Robin let go after that, inspecting said finger gently.

He did say before we left that he wouldn't doubt that Nea would do just that.

“Huh? Oh no i tried to grab at something that fell behind that longass drawer, kinda broke my finger when i slipped on paper”

Well, that still sounded painful.

But at least the next bit would probably cheer him up a little!

I handed Arthur the shell I had picked out for him, 

the blue, red and purple shimmering in the light.

“Here! I did say I'd get you a big one!”

He turned said shell over in his hand,  the thing being almost bigger as said hands.

“I didn't know seashells could have those colors! 

Thank you! OH! Also I have something as well!”

He held out the slightly stained paper, which I was now pretty sure was blood, and carefully took it, looking it over.

My face split in a grin as I read the title, 

It seemed like Rikaad had to rewrite a law pretty soon.

Man, I couldn't wait to write to Fable!

NEXT / PREVIOUS / OVERSIGHT

[saintmeghanmarkle]

What would you say to Harry? by u/Economy-Alfalfa-2241

What would you say to Harry? So, in a hypothetical world where we all have an opinion, what would you say to Dimbo if you could? Or Meghan? Or the kids?I'm going to do my annual nice because I'm running out of year soooo...Don't get me wrong, I *despise* his behaviour. He can't even begin to comprehend the wider ramifications, we should have reeled him in and chloroformed him if necessary, don't even get me started on Ghastlywife etc etc. But ahead of all that - which I would shout a lot, repeatedly, later. So just for now and probably for ever, "*you can always go home.*Yes, it will be embarrassing. Yes, you will have to eat Humble Pie with a heavy slosh of Mortified Custard and yes, it's all a bit bigger than family. But when you've thunked your thunkings, taken your accountabilities and sorried your sorries, a heartfelt regret voiced to one gets you absolution from the whole. We don't want to dislike you, we really don't. It's so much easier when we're not up the snotter with the RF; most of us like to hold you in a kind of benevolent ignorance and you must admit, it's a good deal. And yes, you have a LOT to rebuild but again, goodwill really does grease the bearings.Harry. Ask Siri to help with the big words, but they don't really matter. The words that matter are:You can always come home.​And that goes for anyone - if you understand this, you'll understand why. "Spare" should never have been published because its a voyeuristic nosy around in someone else's mind that might've slipped its gimbals . That's nothing to do with Americans being more open or whatever bollox he's been led to believe cos I don't for one minute think any one of you would think it appropriate outside your closest friends ears or those of your therapist. How Harry went from conservative to vomiting up every second of every injustice for the entire world is...worrying (any psych people in here?)But I think Scobie's new shlockfest slammed the door for him. Or he may think it has. Some - well, most - of his slights were over such minutiae that I think they're maybe misperceptions rather than memories, and the obvious culprit is depression. He really does seem to have this bleak outlook that the distorted lens of depression casts across everything; every memory, every occasion, every event. But Scobie's book really removes any of what little nuance that remained after the rest of the whining and it draws a line much harder than any Harry has wanted to so far. It just seems like an aggressive move whereas Harry really relies on the passive-aggressive, he receives offences that haven't been sent. But if you get to the point where you can't see a way forward you always have to know there's a way back. I think I might be at the point of worrying about whether he knows that.​I dunno. Praps I've been boiled too long and am going soft, but it's hard enough to do the accountability thing for any reason. It's hard to realise your perceptions were skewed, your memory the faulty one. So if it's hard when it's just a family who want to forgive and don't really see much to forgive anyway.....imagine what it's like thinking a whole country is against you. Yeeesh.On the other hand, it'll be that country paying so you can concentrate on screwing your head on straight with no teensy little worries like the mortgage or which box you left the kids in (dammit! I was determined to be snark-free. Huh!) so there's that. Swings n roundabouts. post link: https://ift.tt/y7Ogbs5 author: Economy-Alfalfa-2241 submitted: December 11, 2023 at 08:42PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit

[cosmicgrapevine]

Tabby sat with her legs crossed, not daring to move a muscle. They were easily a thousand feet up at the moment. There was really nothing keeping her from falling to her death, other than her own stillness, but she felt safe anyway. Lynd steered, and she wrapped her arms over him, like they were sharing a Harley speeding down an empty highway. “Why do you think he didn’t rat on us?” She asked. “Spite, I imagine. Travis was his captor, not us.” Tabby turned the mirrors over; she was holding them so they wouldn’t slip out of Lynd’s coat. “We should just keep these. Hold them for ransom so Florentino will let you in.” “I would rather not try to extort the most powerful Warden in the country, but…hm. Never mind, I’m surely mistaken.” “No, keep going.” “It’s just…the words he used. I kept mulling them over last night. ‘No power on Earth’. ‘Out of my hands’. And even if a sailor cannot stop the tides, he can navigate them. Wardens choose their words carefully, just like everything else. Perhaps he is saying there is a path, but I must discover it on my own. But if it exists, it will be near impossible to find.” “Let’s say we find it. You make it to Kahoti, what’s first on your list?” “Well…you said Melanie is already attending school again. I would like to join her.” Tabby started laughing, so loud that she worried someone on the ground would hear. “Dude,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye, “You did not risk death for weeks on end just to go to fucking high school, gimme a break. Like, hold out for college, at least.” “Markstepper education is very informal, focused on survival and pragmatics. I know nothing of history or the sciences…I can barely read, surely you have noticed; I learned all those languages by speech alone. And I cannot even drive a car: the whole ride down, I felt so useless. Where else would I learn these things?” “Look, it’d be great if that’s how it worked, just show up and say ‘I need knowledge! Teach me!’ But it’s not. Even if they let you in without an ID and stuff, you’re gonna do things their way. Their classes, their rules, their system. And the other kids…” Tears flew from her lashes again, and not tears of laughter. “They’ll find whatever you hate about yourself and cut you with it until all that’s left is scars. Just for fun, just because they can. I’m sorry, but there’s no way they’ll accept you.” They were close to Kahoti now, its winding streets almost forming a pattern to her eyes, some small piece of Florentino’s Ward, before it slipped away again. What if this is the last time I see Lynd? She thought suddenly. Florentino doesn’t want me here; if Rita pushes him he’ll ship Dad and me back on the next flight out. She couldn’t let that be the last thing she said. “I—I mean, my last school was like that, but maybe this one’s better…” “No, you were right. Idiotic of me to think otherwise. Once I get what I need from the old man, there’s nothing for me here. Try pushing your weight downward; we’re descending soon.” His voice was flat. “There are certain lies Marksteppers tell each other. One is that the civilized world is nothing but panicky cattle who would be slaughtered without our protection. Another is that actually joining that world is the height of dishonor, an unforgivable betrayal of your clan. We beat that into each other until we never forget it. And they must not have beaten me hard enough.” His voice wasn’t flat anymore. “I want to stay.” He said it with a mix of shame and bleak acceptance, like he was confessing to a crime. “You’re the first person I’ve told,” he whispered.

[sassygwaine]

okay so if you haven’t yet see @not-nervous-jester’s fucking stunning art i have been thinking about it all day

and i read @queerspacepunk’s no abundance of tomorrows and have been thinking about it all day

and about ignoring, denying, refusing what you want for what keeps you alive and how it’s a kind of horror on its own. how you say shit you don’t want to say because you know you need to.

—

from here to here is freezing

It echoes.

Knocks against the bleak wood paneling shaded red from curtains he can convince himself are simple stained canvas and not the fine, fine silk or whatever that once shrouded an improbable library—

A library with a fireplace on a fucking wooden ship, just who—

Or did they hang over the bunk? Where Stede met him for the first time and remembered, where Ed held his hand and soothed his fear and let Stede know Ed before Blackbeard…Just because he could. It’d be fun, to see his reaction, anyway, and. It was fun to not be Blackbeard—Where Ed raised a knife to Stede’s golden head.

Better days ahead, he was sure, leaning his sweaty forehead on Stede’s hand, forgiven and undeserving of it.

Better days, and then. Then sitting on a bunk feeling wind on his jaw for the first time in probably fuckin’ decades, and he was kind of excited?

The scream, the shock, echoes.

Can’t be Blackbeard without the beard.

He’d hoped, at least.

But, well.

He’d pull the fuckin’ hair out like wool through a spinning wheel if he could, draw each back to the length it was before—

Fresh start, he’d thought, be somebody new.

Blackbeard never was.

Except.

Except the trouble with a legend is that it outgrows you. The trouble with a legend is that one day it doesn’t matter anymore if you really are him or not.

Doesn’t matter what you want, what you say, what you hope for—What you cry alone and ache for.

He’d liked it, being bare faced and chilly from nose to chest, the same as he’d liked folding shit—Novelty? Mundanity? Normalcy? Some glimpse at a simple life.

For those blissful moments he could just be a man, in charge of no one but himself, and know finally the wheel was out from under his hands, he was done—

But no.

No, it burns, now, the coldness, the chill.

It’s freezing.

Ed’s not been many cold places, but he didn’t start out here.

He remembers how it feels to press your cheek to a sheet of ice until it sears like a hot iron.

He remembers the sear of a hot iron burning cold like ice—

“Boss,” Izzy rasps, and Edward jerks his head up, eyes flicking over. The doorway glows gold with a shadow in it. “Ship tailing us. Bonnet’s colors.”

Ed’s heart climbs into his throat, wants to cry and cheer at once, wants to sob and stab the table in front of him until his knife breaks or the table breaks or he breaks—

Stede’s back again, back again—Maybe this time, he can—

“Ready the canons,” Ed says, standing, in a voice that’s his but isn’t. “We’ll forgo the warning shot.”

Izzy grins, and he knows he’s said the right words in the right order with the right affect, knows he’s moved the right piece to stay in play. To stay alive. Blackbeard’s words, not Edward’s.

Never thought he’d be a hostage on his own ship.

He’s been a hostage in this fucking body since he was young; even when it was the only thing to his name, it was nothing but a fucking liability, just another thing to be used against you, same as your voice, as your image. Your body, your life, out here. So, he’d learned quick how to keep safe.

And he’d thought he could be vulnerable, show his throat—roll right over and show his whole fucking belly if Stede asked it of him.

Fuck, he wouldn’t even need to ask, not even now.

But Stede will get him killed, and Edward has lived too long through too much bullshit to go out for—

Love.

He stabs the desk in front of him and bids the flood wait until after the carnage.

Better alive than dead.

He hopes, at least.

[bi-kisses]

I wanted to thank you for the post you just made about detrans people, I really needed to hear that support right now since we don't really get much empathy these days. People just talk about us as statistics and bargaining chips and not really as people, it feels like. I won't pretend to know everything about the detrans/desist circles since I'm still new to it myself but I've experienced enough that so far anytime I see someone talking about detrans it's usually to win arguments or they only talk about misdiagnosed detransitioners, and those of us who were correctly diagnosed and are and always have been sex dysphoric get ignored. I guess we don't really 'fit' anyone's argument well enough for them to want to acknowledge us. It's a really sucky life to live for lack of a more formal wording; the only treatment that's really out there for this dysphoria is transitioning and when it doesn't work, it's a very bleak way to live. I never really understood why some people years into their transitions are still nearly as miserable as before they started or still attempt suicide, but now I do. I don't mean to vent or traumadump too much, for a little context as insight on a personal example: I had an unsuccessful transition. I was transitioned as a minor and now in my 20s I suffer from health complications, mostly regarding my heart and hemoglobin and all that (I've had heart palpitations/irregular heartbeat since I was 19 or 20), and I can no longer continue medically transitioning unless I want to see an early cardiac arrest or death from its worsening. The doctors that gave me transition treatment will not give me detransition treatment nor referrals so I'm on my own now. Not to mention I am stuck looking like a teenage boy and will never be able to look like a fully grown man which causes a lot of dysphoria and pain since the only reason I transitioned was to be a man, not to be a forever teenager. I don't regret the transition's effects of masculinizing me, if anything I wish there were more, but it's been 10 years so there's no more to be gained. At this point if I detransitioned fully I don't think I'd look like a woman either so I'm pretty much stuck suffering no matter what I do or don't do next in terms of continuing or stopping social aspects of my transition. I'm not sure if it's because I was transitioned too young or because I just have shit genes, but this is my situation and it is permanent.

Anyway, I'm sure there are many other detransitioners/desistors out there like me in similar situations. It's our lives, our realities, and it's a lot of suffering to have ignored and not have much support for. Not to mention how it's pretty much impossible to talk to friends and family about for fear of them lashing out that they think you 'betrayed' them or 'lied' or 'made a stupid mistake' so we don't have a lot of safe places to talk about this kind of thing. I even feel like I have to stay on anon to be able to safely talk about this here.

My heart goes out to you, and idk if it's any comfort but I have for sure seen several people in similar situations where they ARE dysphoric and would love to live as the opposite sex but it just isn't viable. Usually it's seen with trans women, as transitioning from male to female is notoriously luck dependent genetically speaking, but health issues have impeded trans guys I've known too.

I can't believe you aren't able to receive medical support for your detransition, that's fucking awful and those doctors should be held accountable for not providing what is, imo, a necessary service to help you live in a comfortable and healthy manor.

I'm not detrans, but I have a pretty fucking irritating health condition that makes my day to day really uncomfortable. I totally understand that helplessness. Doctors have been useless to me so far (I'm on, like, my third different specialist just hoping this one figures out what's wrong). Sometimes all we can do is figure out what works so that each day is worth getting through, even if we can't live in an ideal way.

Lots of love for you and I hope things get better soon. Feel free to reach out anytime.

[slothquisitor]

Between the Lines

The three times that Liv left Astarion books, and the one time he gave her one. Or, what if I desperately tried to write a cute fluffy book exchange and then it became more about working through trauma? Astarion x tav, 2500 words.

Also on AO3.

___________________________________________________________

Astarion likes the quiet evenings at camp best. Sure, the ever looming threat of turning into a mind flayer hangs over them all, but otherwise, it’s quite peaceful. There are plenty of books about, and so he spends most of his evenings reading. It is…strange. To have the freedom to do whatever he would like, to a point, they are out in the middle of nowhere after all. But these small moments, small decisions, they’re his. How he wants to spend his time, what book he wants to read, if he wants to participate in conversation or not, they’re his. For the first time in two centuries, he has those small freedoms. 

He can’t remember if he was much of a reader before Cazador turned him, but after, oh the only true solace he had was in books. He remembers when he first discovered the velocity of escape, the comfort of being someone else with other problems. It was so much easier to pass the long, bleak daylight hours stuck in Cazador’s palace when he had a book to read. It made everything easier. Each story was a place to retreat no matter how bad things became. 

And retreat he did, often. He told himself stories while the lashes landed on his back. Told himself stories while trapped in the darkness alone. Retold tales of adventure and worlds and places he knew he would never see. He might never feel the sunlight on his skin again, but he could read about those who could. It was a pinprick of hope in the darkness. 

At first, he kept the books a secret, smuggling them into forgotten corners and only reading them when he could ensure he was alone. The second that Cazador caught wind that Astarion might enjoy something, it was liable to be taken away. But as the years wore on, as he became more and more resigned to his fate, he stopped hiding the books. He read everything from poetry to histories to philosophy. At some point, he stopped reading stories. They stopped offering hope or comfort. It made him sick to read about a hero saving the day, about the world being saved when there was no hero coming for him, no world where he escaped Cazador’s grip on his throat. 

Until now. 

They find books everywhere. Astarion peruses the spines until he finds something interesting and slips it into his bag. Then he spends the night poring over its pages. It’s been years since he’s read anything fictional, anything fantastical, but something about the impending doom hanging over his head makes him care less than he used to. Maybe, a little hope here at the end of all things is okay. 

Maybe this tadpole won’t turn him into just another type of monster. Maybe he can use it, maybe he can twist this all to his advantage, maybe he never has to be a puppet of Cazador’s whims again. He’s read enough stories to know that the power grabs belong to villains, but he’s long since stopped thinking himself a hero anyway. Heroes and villains die just the same as the next fool, and he’d rather survive. 

It shouldn’t surprise him that he’s not the only bookworm in camp. Oh, he expected the two wizards to hoard books like dragons, but while Gale prefers arcane theory, Liv has a different collection. She seems to be like him, collecting stories instead. She has a neat little stack at her tent, and Astarion might have glanced at the spines, just to see what she might be reading. Not that he actually cares what she’s reading, this is about seduction, obviously. The better he knows his target the more success he’ll have. 

It’s on one of those quiet nights at camp that she asks what he’s reading, the words soft, almost too quiet with the crackling fire between them. 

He looks up from the well-worn pages. The other members of their group are elsewhere, sleeping or busy with their own distractions. It’s just the two of them at the fire now. He’s supposed to be seducing her, which means that this would be a good opportunity for him to move closer, to drop his voice just above a whisper so that she has to lean in to hear. It’s a dance he’s done a thousand times with a thousand different people; the music varies but the steps are the same. They work every time. 

He’s not sure why he doesn’t move, then. Why he can’t seem to will himself through the pantomime tonight. He stays exactly where he’s at, reclined against a log. “Searching for Adze,” he replies without lowering the book. 

“I’m not familiar with it. Is it any good?” she asks. 

“Oh, it’s absolutely awful. The plot is basically nonsensical, but it went on enough about hammers I definitely believed it might have a bit more spice to make it worthwhile.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. The flirtation is half-hearted, Liv tends to ignore most of these remarks anyway. It’s partly infuriating, the way she gracefully side-steps his most overt flirtations. But there are moments when her interest is clear, like when she drew his portrait or any time he drinks from her neck. It’s happened three times now; not that he’s counting. 

Liv smiles. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you enjoy smutty books.”

“Darling, everyone enjoys smutty books. Most books would be greatly improved with its inclusion. Including this one.” 

“You should certainly pass that along to the authors of spell theory books. I’m sure they’d love the feedback.”

Liv’s humor is dry, a blink and you miss it sort of wit. He smiles. “And what are you reading?”

“Re-reading,” she corrects, “Tales from the Underground, an old favorite. With everything so uncertain, it’s nice to read something where I know the ending.”

Astarion understands that sentiment. When things were at their worst, when he was starving, or hardly able to think straight or clearly for the pain of suffering Cazador’s ire, a plot twist or a surprise ending felt crueler than a death sentence. He would instead take comfort in the stories he knew, in pages so well-worn he hardly needed to do more than skim the pages. 

He’s familiar with her book, he enjoyed it, once. “I suppose there is a sort of comfort in knowing what happens next.”

Her green eyes are bright with the gratitude of being understood. “Yes. I…whenever life got difficult, I always found myself retreating back into a book. My problems usually look smaller than whatever world-ending thing is happening in a book.” She frowns. “It’s not working very well right now.”

Her admission rankles. He’s the most at peace he’s been in two hundred years. He wonders what could have ever been so bad in her little life of privilege that she’d need to retreat into a book. She hasn’t said much about her background, but he recognized her last name. She’s a noble, a diplomat’s daughter. Even without that information, he would have placed her accent as upper city anyway. But he’s never heard of her, which means she’s from places too bright and redolent with life for even Cazador to sully. 

“Well, it’s not so bad; we’re not dead yet,” he stretches a bit, beginning to stand. He can tell she’s going to talk more, is going to share things about herself and her life, and he doesn’t want to know those things. He doesn’t want to care. He is here to survive, to do whatever it takes, take whatever moments he must. But there is no seduction here, staying means talking, bonding, it wouldn’t be in the service of his plan. And it’s precisely why he can’t stay. 

If she’s bothered by his exit, she doesn’t say. Just like she hasn’t said a word about the page he stole from her sketchbook. He’s sure she’s noticed it, he’s seen her sketching at night too. He wishes she’d say something, anything, but everything is the same as it has always been with her. She’s infuriatingly even-keeled, even under present circumstances. When she breaks, and she will, no one is this stoic, it will likely be dramatic. It will probably be entertaining. 

A few days later, the first book appears. He’s been out hunting; he’s content, a little blood drunk, but sated, calm. Until he notices the book on the stool, and every bit of warmth and peace turns to ice. He tells himself he’s being ridiculous, that evidence of someone being around his tent while he’s away isn’t necessarily a portent for something bad. And yet, it takes all his courage to reach for the book. He turns it over in his hands, searching for some sign or message. The book is just a book, there is no note. An unfamiliar title, but from the cover and art within the first few pages, it’s an adventure novel. 

He mistrusts the gift immediately. Cazador used gifts as much as the lash. There was always a message embedded. A gift might mean something good in the moment, but those moments were all too fleeting. He got better at reading their inherent messages with time, but he still remembers far too well the lessons learned when he didn’t. What’s the agenda here? What does someone in this camp want from him? Are they doing this on purpose, just to see him squirm? For the night, he sets the book aside. 

The next night another appears. A few days later, another. Only this time, it’s Tales from the Underground, and the mystery of his book deliverer is solved. Liv has been leaving him books. But what he cannot fathom is why.

He gets his answer two days later, when he witnesses Liv give Karlach a stuffed owlbear as a friend for her teddy bear, Clive. Karlach can’t even touch the gift herself, since it’ll catch fire if she even walks too close to it, but she’s overjoyed. And there is no agenda. Liv doesn’t expect anything in return. She’s just being nice.

It’s disgusting really. 

Astarion doesn’t want Liv’s niceness, though he supposes it must mean that part of his plan is working. If she’s being nice to him, then she won’t turn on him. What’s more infuriating than her niceness is that now he seems to be looking for a book to give to her. It’s an unconscious thing, really. But he can grudgingly admit that she does have fine taste. The books she’s anonymously deposited at his tent have been exactly what he would have picked for himself. 

Besides, participating in this little book exchange is sure to win him enough favor with her to buy him safety. So he doesn’t really know why it takes him so long to settle on a book. But finally, he does. 

It’s another quiet night at camp; no devils have appeared to collect debts, and hells, Gale isn’t even eating magic boots. Liv and Shadowheart had spent some time at the fire, drinking wine for a while, but now Liv’s at her tent alone. She seems to be working on something, spellbook open and components scattered across a small table.  

“It’s a lovely evening,” he says by way of greeting. 

She glances up from her work, and seems surprised to see him standing there. He supposes that’s because she’s usually the one that comes to speak to him. “It is. Everything all right?”

There’s a small hint of suspicion in her eyes; she’s clearly trying to read him, his intentions. Fair enough. He’s not exactly innocent here. He holds up the book in his hand. “I brought you something.”

Her entire face brightens. “Really?” She seems genuinely surprised, and thrilled. For someone who likely grew up wanting for nothing, him bringing her a book surely couldn’t mean that much. Could it?

Well, if it does, all the better for him, obviously. 

He purposefully steps closer, turning to the side rather than head on. She’s skittish, he’s learned, and this way, she doesn’t put distance between them. He offers her the book. “This one is one of my favorites. If you haven’t read it, I’d be happy to describe to you what happens. Everything that happens. In great detail.”

There’s actually nothing particularly smutty in this story, this is just a line he thought up while looking for a book for her. It has the desired effect. She blushes as she reads the spine. “Thank you, I haven’t read this one. I take it that means you didn’t dislike the books I left for you?” And there’s the sidestep, the distance, but she hasn’t moved away, not yet. 

“Darling, I simply adore gifts.Your little books were a welcome surprise.” The lie slips prettily off his tongue, even though he knows that she won’t miss the slight insult, as if the books meant nothing, just another trinket among trinkets. He’s not sure why it’s always this way with her. She is soft, gentle. If Liv has a hard edge he’s yet to find it, but he can’t seem to avoid trying to cut her all the same. 

She retreats away, pressing the tips of her fingers into the corners of the cloth-bound cover. “You hadn’t said anything, so I wasn’t sure.”

Her guard is up now, it’s best to drop his routine rather than press her too hard. Which means it’s time for him to go. But something inside him can’t help but ask. “How did you know what I’d like?” The question comes out harsher than intended, but it’s too late to take it back now.

It’s clearly not the question she’s expecting from the way uncertainty quickly moves across her face. Gone in a flash, banished with a smile. “It wasn’t too hard, I saw some of the books you grabbed for yourself. I simply added the ones I knew that I thought were similar.” She shrugs like it’s nothing. 

Ugh, nice people are so boring. 

He represses a sigh. He’s turned an interaction that was supposed to be seduction into something that feels accusatory, so he knows he has to dig himself out of this, so he offers her bit of niceness in return. “I liked them. I liked them all quite a lot. I just didn’t realize I was so transparent, is all.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone of your very embarrassing penchant for adventure stories.”

“What else do I have out here, but my sordid reputation?”

She laughs at that. “I have some other books too, if you want to look through them. I wasn’t sure what you had or hadn’t read.”

Staying breaks every internal rule he’s made for himself, but he does stay. They talk books for a pleasant half an hour. He tells himself that he’s got an ulterior motive here, and that this is all in service to his grand plan. But later, when he’s alone in his tent, he might admit to himself that he stayed because he wanted to.  

And he wonders for the first time if this plan of his is truly necessary. He discards the thought as quickly as it comes. This isn’t a story, there’s no happy ending coming unless he reaches out and takes it for himself.