#ive had to take on the work of all the vacant positions and it doesn’t even seem tofucking matter outside of us like everyone just thinks im

[pepprs]

not to keep workposting but. every single day I come to work and i get rained on and i don’t have an umbrella. every single day i come to work and return home with arrows sticking out of me like in minecraft.

[dreaminpetals]

could i request hcs for naib and Jjseph reacting to their gn s/o coming back from a match severely wounded? like broken bones or having been left to bleed out (i saw someone hc that bleeding out feels like actually dying and someone else hc that the surv is left in a comatose state while they recover from exsanguination and i RAN with it)

🔪 naib and joseph react to mortally wounded s/o . . . 🎞

tw: emetophobia and blood

NAIB SUBEDAR ;;

art credit

♡ jack had left you to bleed out after being rescued. he chased martha all the way across moonlit while you writhed in pain inches away from the rocket chair. it was so excruciating that you considered chairing yourself so you could seek medical help immediately, but your legs were broken. you couldn't move an inch.

♡ once you finally went comatose, you faded back to the manor and martha hopped into the dungeon, panicking when she saw the blood pooling below you.

♡ his foggy blades had ripped through everything you had and you weren't looking good. you were rushed to the emergency wing where emily tended to you. the doctor was thankful you were comatose, because if you were conscious the disinfectants she used were so strong you would have let out screams of agony that she could never forget.

♡ naib burst through the doors the moment he heard of your condition. he kicked a hole in the wall when he saw how many machines you were hooked up to.

♡ had he been there, he never would have let this happen. martha is young, inexperienced. she wouldn't have been willing to sacrifice herself for you either. naib would have broken all of his bones himself if it could save you from simply bruising one.

♡ the usually stoic naib was wracked with grief, hiccuping back sobs and clinging to your bandaged frame. emily's heart broke as she heard him mutter "don't go, please baby don't leave me," whenever your breathing would spike.

♡ naib is furious with himself and with everyone who let this happen to you. his fists shake his rage and he nearly bites the head off anyone who tries to speak to him.

♡ none of the other survivors can console him. when he does leave your room, his actions are frantic and his interactions with others are limited. naib has complete hope that you'll wake up and he doesn't want to miss it. also, as much as he doesn't want to admit, he wants to be the first thing you see when you rise.

♡ the doctor and mercenary grew quite close over their shared anguish for you. naib would take your vitals as you slept and help flush out your IVs when necessary. he has some experience with tending to wounded soldiers so he knows all about the proper procedures for you.

♡ however, he's never seen something like exsanguination before. he can't bear to see you be drained. naib has seen plenty of disturbing and life altering sights but he needs to step out of the room when his lover is undergoing such a process. it would traumatize him more than your status already has.

♡ he cries himself to sleep every night. the thought of losing you claws the breaths out of his throat. he pulls up a bed beside yours and stays stationed there all night, only leaving when necessary.

♡ your steady breaths in the dead of the night help to ease his nerves but he can't stay asleep for too long in case that breathing stops and he isn't able to save you again.

♡ on the day you're scheduled to wake up, naib prepares a feast and a bouquet for you. you receive several bouquets from your friends, but naib consulted emma for the best, most romantic flowers to choose.

♡ your eyes flutter open to the sight of naib jogging towards you, eyes as wide as saucers as his fingers run through his hair in disbelief. so overjoyed he can't form a single word. he peppers you with kisses and his hot tears drip onto your cheeks.

♡ the bags under his eyes are a sign that naib hasn't been boding well with your affliction. pull him into your chest, mindful of any tubes you may still be connected to, and let him rest there. speak every once in a while or card your fingers through his chestnut hair stained with sweat so he knows that you're still with him.

♡ when he wakes up to you smiling down at him, he knows things will be okay. of course he'll be extra protective of you, but this has taught him that you won't go down without a fight. it's a tad reassuring for the mercenary.

♡ once you're able to walk and fight again, naib never lets you play against jack again for good measure, and he never leaves your side during matches. it doesn't matter how many rescuers the team has, naib is staying. and he's not letting you out of his reach, never again.

JOSEPH DESAULNIERS ;;

art credit

♡ joseph knows what courting a survivor entails. you're going to be hurt by the people he lives with and there's nothing he can do about it. he warns everyone to be gentle with his s/o, but the photographer's words fall to deaf ears during grisly rank matches.

♡ this match was one of those. one where zero survivors made it past the exit gate and the feaster was left to triumph over his four victims.

♡ you had been left to bleed out after reaching your self heal limit. hastur's mighty tentacle whipped you stronger than usual, breaking your ribs and leaving you wheezing for air. the red waves of pain that pulsed through your body with every breath left you a bawling puddle on the ground, curling into a fetal position as you silently pleaded to a god that wasn't listening for the last kiter to be chaired already.

♡ mike was finally stuffed into a chair and flown back to the manor while you oozed into the ground and landed on the cold tiled floor of the manor with a thud. he gasped when he saw your condition and alerted emily right away.

♡ laying in the hospital bed, joseph teleported into the room with knitted brows and a green tint to his complexion. the sheen of bile on his chin told you he had thrown up before arriving.

♡ your approaching lover, screaming as he saw your eyes close, was the last thing you witnessed before passing out for days.

♡ as far as joseph knew, you were dead.

♡ for the second time in his life, he lost the most important person to him. he shrieked and whimpered out sobs that chilled emily to the bone. she had to explain right away that you were alive, only comatose, and you were expected to make it through.

♡ the photographer didn't believe her. he saw the bones sticking out of your torso and the blood staining your shirt, he wasn't blind. his lover was dead.

♡ emily had to politely usher him out of the room as she and aesop went to work on your body, draining the blood to restore you to your former glory. this has happened to survivors before and you were no exception.

♡ as they operated on you, joseph struggled to walk back to your room. he clung to the walls and tables lining the hallways of the manor but nothing could propel his legs to move. they felt like bricks, chaining him down to the cold tiles you collapsed on upon your doomed arrival.

♡ there isn't a shred of hope inside of joseph's body. he isn't an optimistic person, especially not when he saw his darling draw their final, ragged breath. you had the death rattle. the same rattle claude had in his final moments.

♡ he saw aesop approach your hospital room. joseph took this as a sign of your departure, when it really was emily asking for a second hand to improve your chances of survival. all the critical thinking skills leave joseph's body when you're in any sort of danger.

♡ for days he laid in your bed back in your bedroom and slept with your clothes until your scent drifted away, replaced with his musty one from not bathing. he didn't want to wash you off of him. there was a small fleck of your blood on his sleeve that he would cherish forever as a memento of you.

♡ just as he became obsessed with capturing people after claude's death, joseph was itching to claim some lives due to yours. firstly he was going to snap a picture of the barbaric feaster who dared to steal his love away from him, then the survivors in the match with you who could have saved you.

♡ his final photograph was going to be your gorgeous corpse so you could truly be preserved forever.

♡ dragging his camera equipment down the halls, he was promptly stopped by emily calling his name. she told him to come to the hospital wing to visit you.

♡ he was appalled that the doctor would dare to ask him to look at his dead lover while he was busy avenging them. joseph was moments away from trapping her in his camera world for all of eternity, pinning the woman down and reaching for his film, when she exclaimed that you were awake.

♡ he gripped his lens so hard it shattered and cut his hands.

♡ with a snap of his fingers, joseph teleported back to your bedside where you were eating a plain cheese sandwich, a bit groggy with a bedhead but awake.

♡ he thought he was hallucinating.

♡ but he wasn't.

♡ you perked up where you sat and he dashed into your arms, deep cries rumbling from his chest as his tears stained your gown. his nose was dripping with snot and he had an almost vacant stare on his face as he scanned your features. feeling down your body, his hands ghosted against some bloodstained bandages wrapped tightly against your torso. he could feel your heartbeat thrum beneath his fingertips. you were okay.

♡ you were okay.

♡ you were okay.

♡ joseph proposed to you and promised to murder any hunter who hurts you again. they all listen to him.

♡ though joseph's possessiveness and obsessiveness over you grew tenfold, you were never going to be hurt again and the thought lulled him to sleep every night as you snored in his arms. he was going to protect this innocent bundle sleeping with him until he drew his last breath.

[angelspenance]

Prompt: AruYuki + Pink in the Night

"And I know I've kissed you before, but

I didn't do it right

Can I try again, try again, try again"

Rewrite verse bc if I did canon adjacent I don’t think I could Take It. Also u know its bad when after all the other essays ive typed out i put a readmore on This One.

To begin with it’s… nothing much. Or at least that’s what they both try to think. Yuki sits at the side of Aru’s hospital bed at two in the morning still trying to process why they’d ever take a knife to the back from Yuki’s own father to protect his mother. And Yuki doesn’t know at all how to feel about, well, Anything. He’s grateful but at the same time he’s… concerned. If anything he doesn’t want Aru to suffer the fallout of his own family’s personal issues despite the fact Aru probably saved his mother’s life. And… fine. Maybe just maybe Aru has wormed their way into Yuki’s heart and thoughts and the blood rapidly pulsing through his veins as he takes their hand in his. “Thank you,” Yuki says aloud in nothing more than a whisper to make sure they don’t wake up. A coward as always, he thinks to himself as he thanks Aru in the only way that feels right to him: a kiss on the lips. And it tastes like a hospital and their lips are unnervingly cold against his, but it’s gentler and longer than anything he’s given Yuno, who’s been disturbingly quiet as well as respectful of Yuki’s space since Aru found her alone in her house after the kidnapping fiasco, to the point of allowing him time alone with Aru “your mans a hottie” Akise. And maybe it’s more than just a thanks. Yuki allows himself against his better judgment to brush some of their hair out of their face and hold their hand a little longer. He remains at their bedside but makes sure there’s no indication of his actions should they wake. And of course Aru’s been semi conscious the whole time but so out of it on pain meds they think the whole thing is a sick dream; a fabrication of a reality they could only ever pray for. So neither of them speak of it, despite the fact Minene saw the moment of truth but figured it would be best for the two to figure it out on their own accord.

The next time it’s Yuki slumped unconscious in Aru’s arms after having been thrown back into a wall by an explosion while distracting the mayor’s men so Yuno could snipe him in the vault. Blood runs from the corner of his mouth and his nose as Aru runs their fingers through his hair and mutters desperately “please wake up please wake up please Yuki… please don’t leave me” with no avail to the point where, even with Minene and Nishijima and Mao and Hinata and Kousaka looking on, they cup his cheek and choke out “I never got to tell you that I…” and they close the narrow gap between their lips and his, tears mingling with blood as Aru barely audibly says “I love you, Yuki; I’m completely undone without you. Please just… know this in your heart.” And with that Yuki coughs and shakes and his eyes flutter open to make out the dust in Aru’s hair and the blood smudged against their face from his; it tones down their otherwise borderline angelic appearance in Yuki’s eyes between the crimson eyes and halo of a mess of hair against their skin marred over with scars like constellations. More tears, a genuine “Yuki you’re alive!” that outdoes their last given after being kidnapped, a thousand thoughts in a mind still buzzed from being unconscious interrupted by a single clear I don’t care, a thumb numbly caressing their cheek and wiping a smudge of blood off of their pale skin, a pair of lips clumsily colliding with theirs but they’re so relieved and downright ecstatic to the point where the taste of coppery blood and dust means less than nothing to them, a quiet “I love you too; I think I have for a while now,” an embrace that threatens to crack his ribs and a few barely contained sobs. Minene ruefully tearing her eyes away from Nishijima for a brief second to say “let’s get a move on, lovebirds” and a flash of Mao’s camera are the only thing that breaks the two of them apart from an embrace best described as “if I let my grasp loosen I’m sure you and this moment will both disappear.”

Yuki watches his beloved torn apart at the seams before his eyes and all he’s allowed to do is hold what remains of them as Kousaka desperately punches something into their phone as for once Yuki is rendered speechless. Silence. They begin to mend back together. Tears begin to flow freely from his eyes as he waits for them to say something, anything. When their eyes flutter open as Yuki’s tears fall onto their face and they say with wide eyes and a shaky voice, “I-I’m…. Yuki do you mind cutting the waterworks for a second I don’t need rain for the theatrics at the given moment,” Yuki cutting them off with a firm kiss and a “don’t you EVER pull that on me again I swear to fucking god” and the second Aru regains their breath they say, “Speaking of which, I-I’m not human. Deus created me to spy on this game of his without my will or consent and the second I faced him he decided I had lived beyond my usefulness and that’s why I… I’m not. I’m not real.” And Yuki just says “Damnit Aru you’re the most real person I know, nobody else would put themself in harms way over and over for their friends and help out a terrorist who was starving in a river and… and bother to try to respect me and understand me and…” and this time Aru sits up and turns around to face Yuki and smiles at them with such fondness despite the tears in their eyes and cups his cheeks in their hands and earnestly says “Deus asked me for any proof I was a real being with any will of my own; he asked what my strongest emotion was during my existence. And do you want to know what I responded with? You; my love for you, Yuki” and with that they gently pull Yuki in for a genuine kiss; one without the haste of the threat of death. One without the aftertaste of blood. One that promises that there will be more regardless of where the future leads, so long as the two of them are together it doesn’t matter. “You really are an angel, Aru.” “I can make you regret that statement so so quickly, but thanks for the sentiment.” “Fresh from the grave dug by gods hand and you still… I stand by my sentiment.” And Aru has the audacity to laugh and that in itself makes Yuki realize just how… natural his thing for Aru is. It lacks the “is this repayment is this real is this just out of what I believe to be obligation” that he had with Yuno, who converses with Mao and Hinata intently in the corner. Aru is Aru and that in itself is enough to tug at Yuki’s heartstrings.

When they’re in the final stages of their plan to kill Deus, the remaining diary holders, Hinata, Mao, Kousaka, Nishijima, and Aru are all gathered together in the cathedral of causality with the same intent: to put an end to the game that’s costed countless lives. Aru’s hand is firmly held in Yuki’s, Yuki knowing damn well just what is probably going through their head and trying to ground Aru despite the fact his own fingers tremble and his entire body feels numb. Aru puts their free hand on Yuki’s shoulder and gazes into his teary eyes; vermillion into indigo; blood into water. And they say “just in case this should go horribly wrong, given that we’re literally facing off against fucking God of all things…” they trail off. They hesitate. Their lips tremble and their eyes burn and their throat closes in emotion but they still manage to do what they intended to: place a final kiss to Yuki’s lips despite they can barely feel it from the numbness of their lips and they can narrowly register Yuki’s hands moving to their hair and their neck and they feel as though they will collapse as Yuki wraps them in a bone crushing embrace the second they pull away. “We’ll be fine; we’ll make it and that’s a promise.” “Since when are you one for confidence?” They manage to joke despite dedicating all of their attention to memorizing Yuki’s embrace and Yuki’s voice and Yuki’s horrible taste in fashion and Yuki’s awful blue eyes and— “Since you refused to let me happily race to my own demise and I couldn’t get rid of you in the same way a stray cat follows you around; plenty of space but a fondness you can’t shake that starts to take root in your heart and—“ “Did you really just try to, with romantic intent, compare me to a stray cat” “Aru what the fuck do you want from me” Yuki laughs through his tears “I don’t know, another kiss couldn’t hurt” “if this doesn’t kill you I will” “You prommy?” “Forever and always, asshole” Aru buries their face in the crook of Yuki’s neck for one final time “Good.”

And after the killing game is out of the way they’re basically inseparable; Yuki sneaking into Hinata’s family manor, which Mao, Yuno, Nishijima, Minene, and Aru moved into thanks to Hinata not wanting to wander its extensive halls like a ghost anymore and figuring you know what why shouldn’t she let her two gfs and their lameass gay detective friend and their weird bisexual parents move into the otherwise vacant estate, nearly every night his mother is at work which is a great majority of them. So Yuki will sneak in at midnight despite Aru giving him a key nearly every night with him usually falling asleep on the couch and Aru falling asleep on top of him like an oversized cat an hour of pacing later. And finally one night Aru finally remembers what they’ve been haphazardly planning out for months and drags Yuki to the roof on a particularly clear night and they go “I know it’s not much and I plan to one up this inevitably but you always said you wanted to look at the stars with a loved one and I’d hope you’d consider me a loved one because good fucking god Yuki I’m positively enamored with you and I—“ and Yuki cuts them off with a kiss that knocks the wind out of their lungs. “Of course I consider you a loved one, you asshole,” Yuki teases tearfully and Aru pauses and blurts out “Oh so I hit this one out of the park huh” and yes they’re the Worst and more than a little rough around the edges but the way the starlight faintly illuminates their white hair into a halo and makes their constellations of scars glow just a little bit and fine maybe the way their scarlet eyes widen and soften at the sight of Yuki makes him equate them with the equivalent of Yuki’s personal guardian angel. “Enjoying the view” they taunt goodheartedly, knowing damn well Yuki’s been staring at Them for the past minute straight. “Fuck you, maybe I am gayass” and Yuki wraps his arms around them and lets his head rest on their shoulder and god maybe just maybe after Everything they’ll be ok.

[gdwessel]

Dominion Cards Announced: Osaka-jo Hall Show Moved To 6/7/2021, Okada v. Shingo for Vacant IWGP World, Despy v. YOH Finally Happening; NJPW Strong Episode 41 - 5/28/2021: Collision Night 4 - Lawlor v. Dickinson; Tony Khan Takes Swipe at WWE Over NJPW Rumors As Women’s Champion Gets Racially Abused

Last night, the lineups for the Dominion cycle of shows was released. 

First off, the event is called Dominion 6.6 In Osaka-jo Hall, however the running date for this is now Monday 6/7/2021, per NJPW’s statement that 

As a result of the extension to the state of emergency in place in Osaka, and in compliance with restrictions on weekend events in the city, New Japan Pro-Wrestling has arrived at the decision to postpone Dominion in Osaka Jo Hall, which was originally scheduled for Sunday June 6.

Which may be all well and good, however, Abema/CyberFight, the owners of both DDT and Pro Wrestling NOAH, are holding their CyberFight Festival on 6/6/2021 at Saitama Super Arena, headlined by Keiji Muto v. Naomichi Marufuji for the GHC Heavyweight title. Funny enough, NJPW is debuting via AbemaTV this Tuesday, as it will be streaming the Korakuen Hall show. Makes me wonder if there was some sort of agreement in place here to not step on the others’ toes.

Whatever the case and whenever it’s happening, the main event will be the crowning of a new IWGP World Heavyweight Champion, following Will Ospreay’s injury, return to the UK and vacating of the title*. As predicted, the match will be Kazuchika Okada v. Shingo Takagi, which will be a very good match indeed most likely. Another title match on the card, will be one that was initially delayed due to COVID-19, as El Desperado finally makes his first defense of the IWGP Juniorheavyweight belt v. YOH, that was supposed to happen at Night 2 of Wrestling Dontaku 2021 on 5/4/2021 but got pulled due to at least one of the wrestlers being positive. Also on the show is Kota Ibushi v. Jeff Cobb, a feud that has been building since Wrestling Dontaku. Those are it for the announced matches on 6/7/2021 so far.

There are two cards for Road to Wrestling Dontaku released as well, with title matches headlining both. On Tuesday 6/1, Dangerous Tekkers will get their awaited rematch against Guerrillas of Destiny as they try to regain the IWGP Heavyweight Tag Team belts once more, one of the most involved, and unexpectedly interesting, feuds in recent times. The next night, Hirooki Goto, Tomohiro Ishii and YOSHI-HASHI defend the NEVER Openweight Comedy 6-Man Tag Team straps against an LIJ tandem of Tetsuya Naito, SANADA & BUSHI. 

NJPW had scheduled a date on 6/4/2021 at Tokyo Ota Ward Gymnasium, however no card is listed for that. Personally I am doubting this show happens; Ota Ward has already seen two other, bigger shows be postponed or moved during the state of emergency from AJPW and NOAH. My pet theory is still Ota Ward Gymnasium is not allowing these shows to happen whilst under the emergency order.

Lineups:

Road to Dominion - 6/1/2021, Tokyo Korakuen Hall (NJPWWorld)

YOH [CHAOS], SHO [CHAOS] & Yuya Uemura v. El Desperado, Yoshinobu Kanemaru & Minoru Suzuki [SZKG]

Hiroshi Tanahashi, Tomoaki Honma, Tiger Mask IV & Ryusuke Taguchi v. EVIL, Chase Owens, Taiji Ishimori & El Phantasmo [Bullet Club]

Kota Ibushi & Yota Tsuji v. Jeff Cobb & Great O-Khan [United Empire]

Kazuchika Okada, Hirooki Goto, Tomohiro Ishii & YOSHI-HASHI [CHAOS] v. Shingo Takagi, Tetsuya Naito, SANADA & BUSHI [Los Ingobernables]

IWGP Heavyweight Tag Team Championship: Tama Tonga & Tanga Loa [Bullet Club] (c) v. Taichi & Zack Sabre Jr. [SZKG]

- 6/2/2021, Tokyo Korakuen Hall (NJPWWorld)

Hiroshi Tanahashi, Tomoaki Honma, Yota Tsuji & Yuya Uemura v. EVIL, Chase Owens, Taiji Ishimori & El Phantasmo [Bullet Club]

YOH [CHAOS], SHO [CHAOS] & Ryusuke Taguchi v. El Desperado, Yoshinobu Kanemaru & DOUKI [SZKG]

Taichi, Zack Sabre Jr. & Minoru Suzuki [SZKG] v. Tama Tonga, Tanga Loa & Jado [Bullet Club]

Kota Ibushi & Master Wato v. Jeff Cobb & Great O-Khan [United Empire]

NEVER Openweight 6-Man Tag Team Championship: Hirooki Goto, Tomohiro Ishii & YOSHI-HASHI [CHAOS] (c) v. Tetsuya Naito, SANADA & BUSHI [Los Ingobernables]

- 6/4/2021, Tokyo Ota Ward Gymnasium

TBA

Dominion 6.6 in Osaka-jo Hall - 6/7/2021, Osaka Osaka-jo Hall (NJPWWorld)

IWGP Juniorheavyweight Championship: El Desperado [SZKG] (c) v. YOH [CHAOS]

Kota Ibushi v. Jeff Cobb [United Empire]

IWGP World Heavyweight Championship Decision Match: Kazuchika Okada [CHAOS] v. Shingo Takagi [Los Ingobernables]

More TBA

*- I had planned to show a statement with Ospreay dismissing the rumors about why he left to go back to the UK, but the source I had initially changed the post I was going to cite. You can still read it if you want, but it doesn’t have what I was going to report on anymore. Oh well.

Last night’s episode of NJPW Strong was the final part of the show’s Collision series of episodes, featuring the first-ever defense of the NJPW Strong Openweight Championship.

Clark Connors v. AJZ (Trophy Kill, 9:38)

El Phantasmo [Bullet Club] d. Wheeler Yuta (Sudden Death, 14:06)

NJPW Strong Openweight Championship: “Filthy” Tom Lawlor [Team Filthy] (c) d. Chris Dickinson (Sleeper Suplex, 21:16) - Lawlor succeeds his 1st defense

Backstage post-match, Karl Fredericks wiped down Lawlor’s belt with Gekicohi-kun, the LEC sponges that sponsor NJPW Strong. Fredericks has a pin over Lawlor, and will probably be the next challenger for the title. Lawlor also referred to Dickinson as “Blue Wolf,” which was not a compliment, as it references former Inokiism-era NJPW wrestler and PRIDE fighter Dogolsuren Serjbudee, who was, erm, Not Good! If you want to see more Lawlor v. Dickinson, Beyond Wrestling’s YouTube channel has made their match from Uncharted Territory S1E09 on 5/29/2019 available to watch for free, two years to the day! Lawlor really has cemented himself as the top heel on NJPW Strong, even without a Bullet Club affiliation!

Meanwhile, ELP continues the loaded boot superkick gimmick, really hamming it up too. I’m not sure what it is with LA Dojo graduates having very problematic finisher names; first it was Manifest Destiny from Karl Fredericks, now shortened to MD, but now we get Trophy Kill from Clark Connors. I really wonder sometimes.

Next week begins the Ignition series of episodes for NJPW Strong.

Last night, prior to AEW’s special Friday night episode of Dynamite, Tony Khan and Tony Schiavone took to Twitter to post a video response to the rumors of WWE trying to work out a deal with NJPW. Sure it’s a little over the top, but that’s about as direct response as we will hear from AEW on the rumors. Unfortunately, later in the night, one of the Spanish announcers was caught during commercials, on live mics, racially abusing AEW Women’s World Champion Hikaru Shida. That’s not going to end well. AEW has yet to address this as of this writing. Hope they get on that soon enough or the rumors might suddenly get a little more credibility. And also, fuck that guy.

[presumenothing]

one more light

ALRIGHT SO this isn’t a new fic but i just realised i somehow never did post this to tumblr, so here it is: 2k worth of atla zombie apocalypse non-au. 

no archive warning content beyond the fact of. y’know. zombies

(AO3)

i.

“It’s not your fault, Aang,” Katara says after they beat back the latest siege, and only his sister could still sound sincere even in something they’ve all said at least a dozen times by now.

Sokka feels so proud of her that his heart is almost bursting… or maybe that’s just the effort of hacking his way through dozens of actual damned zombies. A bit of both, really.

Not that the rest of them don’t believe what she’s saying. This whole mess is Sozin and maybe Roku’s fault if it’s anyone’s, and Sokka would gladly repeat that until he went hoarse if he thought Aang would listen.

But Katara is the one who’s always believed in Aang before any of them did, and that sort of thing made a difference.

Or it used to, at least, but today there’s no brightening in Aang’s expression as he stands up, glider having never left his hands. “I’ll take first watch.”

Biting her lower lip, Katara meets Sokka’s gaze as Aang flies off without waiting for any response, and Sokka shakes his head slightly: let him be.

“Twinkletoes fly off again?”

“Yeah.” When Sokka looks over, Toph’s eyebrows are furrowed in what he would’ve called concern if it hadn’t been on someone who could still fling him off the cliff even after a whole day of fighting. “He’s… not doing too well.”

Not that any of them really are, by this point. Toph doesn’t even call him out for stating the obvious, only crosses her arms. “I wish Sparky was here.”

“You and me both,” he admits – and fine, yes, it’s already enough of a lucky coincidence that the four of them had been travelling together when the sudden case of apocalypse broke out, so asking for more would just be tempting fate, but…

Sokka sighs. “I’m sure he’s fine. Jerkbender doesn’t know how to lose.”

Toph’s punch on his shoulder is far lighter than her usual. “You’re a real shitty liar, Snoozles.”

“Doesn’t make me wrong,” Sokka retorts, and he really really hopes he isn’t wrong. Because Zuko has his firebending and his dual swords and a whole palace full of scarily armed guards plus Suki hellbent on protecting the first sane Fire Lord, so there isn’t any reason why he shouldn’t be okay except that there is.

A century of war dead, in every corner of their world. Legion doesn’t even begin to cover it.

.

.

ii.

Aang had still tried to be careful, at first – dodging blows from shambling corpses is easier than usual, if anything, and he could call up enough water or earth to freeze a half-dozen bodies in one sweep even if it wouldn’t be fatal (insofar as that applied to the undead).

Not that they really had any other option besides stopping them permanently; Katara had tried healing once, on someone who’d just been turned an hour before, and the way her entire face had gone grey answered that well enough.

But Aang is still their most powerful fighter, and after everything with Ozai none of them had been willing to say anything until they almost lost three people to a too-quick thaw. Toph had been the one to react, a flying shard of rock decapacitating the half-frozen zombie with extreme prejudice right before it could lurch onto the cowering villagers, and later she’d also been the one to say it.

“They’re already dead, Aang! Someone’s going to die if you keep this up, and it’s gonna be one of us still alive!” Toph had shouted, eyes glimmering even as Aang stood too quiet and too still, and even now Sokka isn’t sure which had been the worse sight.

.

.

iii.

In a way, taking down zombies as a non-bender is – well, maybe not easier, but at least a sword thrust clean through the throat works just the same on everything.

It wouldn’t have been Sokka’s first choice of target before, but at least he hadn’t needed to change strategies as much as the benders had: internal injuries from blunt force rock don’t slow down an opponent who lacked working organs to start with, and getting frozen in ice probably ranked as a minor inconvenience compared to literally being dead.

Toph had begun hoarding metal after their first fight, and now could bend and fire wickedly-sharp blades in a manner scarily reminiscent of Mai except she never ran out. Katara’s ice missiles aim for the head instead, and Sokka doesn’t need a closer look to know that her ice had gotten denser, heavier somehow, even if he doesn’t quite know how.

At least air still works the same in clearing a swathe through the hordes when they need it, which is just as well – Aang fights almost solely as an airbender, now.

It had taken Sokka a while to realise, since he’d initially sorta assumed that Aang had just been avoiding any use of fire (because the stench of rotten flesh burning is really enough to make anyone consider joining Aang in vegetarianism).

But then he’d paid more attention, and confirmed it with Katara and Toph: Aang really doesn’t fight with anything but air unless he’s forced to. Like he’s not the Avatar at all.

And that makes its own sense, in a twisty sort of way – even after they’d ended the war and brought some sort of peace Sokka knows that Aang still blames himself for having let things get that far, and being the bridge to the spirits doesn’t help this situation at all because it had nothing to do with the spirits to begin with as far as they could tell, so what good is the Avatar?

…just because it makes sense doesn’t mean that Sokka has to like it, and he is going to confront Aang about it one of these days as soon as he’s figured out what to say. Just like how he still needs to talk to Katara about what the heck happened during that fight in the desert.

(All Sokka knows for sure is that Katara had run out of water to bend even though they still had far too many zombies to take down, so instead she had reached and–

Empty bodies had fallen like cut marionettes in a half-circle around her, in the same moment that Katara had turned to the side and thrown up, and if Sokka’s being honest with himself he thinks he can figure out what happened there too even without asking Katara about it.)

(There are many things they don’t talk about, these days.)

.

.

iv.

At least it’s a blessing in disguise that Aang and Zuko had already gone through the Air Temples to perform the appropriate rites, because they’ve proved to be the current best option for evacuating people and keeping them safe.

Not that the temples are invulnerable, not by a long shot – but it’s better than staying on flat ground, and definitely way better than it would’ve been if there’d still been century-old corpses scattered around.

Also, it turns out zombies aren’t really keen on higher altitudes. Who could’ve guessed?

Admittedly the temples were never built to host that many people, especially not after standing vacant for this long, but it’s the best they can do for now. Iroh had told them about the White Lotus safehouses, of course, just in case everything went wrong during the comet and they needed some place to regroup, but Sokka has to wonder if those are fortified enough.

He tries to imagine Master Piandao preparing for the zombie apocalypse and can’t help a snicker.

Aang, staring straight ahead, doesn’t notice.

It’s just the two of them on Appa now as they make their way back down from ferrying more people up to the temple, so Sokka isn’t expecting it when Aang shoots upright from his seat on Appa’s head, turning wide-eyed to shout in the direction of the saddle. “Take the reins, I have to get down there!”

Sokka almost yelps in alarm when Aang barely waits for his glider to open before throwing himself out mid-air, but then he looks down and does swear a dozen things that would have Gran-Gran washing his mouth out if she heard, because there’s no mistaking those bursts of blue fire.

He urges Appa down at top speed and scrambles off once they touch land to see Katara facing off squarely against Azula, Aang by her side and Toph a few paces behind.

There’s at least a dozen ice daggers hanging in the air around Katara, but Azula doesn’t even seem bothered. “Zuzu? Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I took you down once, Azula.” Katara’s voice is scarily level as Sokka slows to a stop beside Toph. “I can do it again. For the last time: where is Zuko?”

Azula doesn’t even bother to answer now, only throws her head back with a laugh, and Sokka can see Aang tensing up in preparation to redirect lightning–

–can see Toph twitch in something like surprise, opening her mouth to say something just as another voice roars: “Hold your fire!”

A grin spreads across Toph’s face even as Sokka turns, and there they are: Zuko supporting Suki as she limps up to them, both looking worse for wear but still safe.

Suki waves at them with her free hand, smile a little wan. “Hey. Sorry we’re late?”

.

.

v.

Sokka volunteers for first watch before anyone else can.

He’s only just gotten settled in when Zuko comes over to sit beside him, and if Zuko notices that this position conveniently lets Sokka keep a lookout while still being able to see Suki – screw it, okay, he hasn’t seen his girlfriend in ages and he’s missed her like hell.

They’d gotten the chance to talk earlier while Katara had been healing Suki’s twisted ankle, but even now that Sokka knows she’s okay, it’s still good to have the visual reminder.

Zuko doesn’t comment on it, though, so it’s up to Sokka to point out the obvious. “You can rest, y’know. Katara will wake you when it’s your turn.”

“In a while, maybe. I’m not sleepy yet.” Zuko shakes his head even as Sokka gives him (or more accurately the dark smudges beneath his eyes) a dubious look – but then again, none of them are strangers to being exhausted but sleepless, whether from adrenaline or something else. “Suki has been taking more than her share of night watches, anyway, she’s the one who really needs the rest.”

Sokka almost snorts but stops himself. Honestly he might’ve done the same, if he had been sharing a camp with Azula. “So how are things in Firetown?”

“Still standing when we left,” Zuko answers, which Sokka takes to mean possibly overrun and definitely on fire. “I gave the decree to open the imperial bunkers to anyone who needed shelter, right before the Fire Sages burst into the hall and demanded I immediately leave and seek out the Avatar to end this blight upon our world.”

Sokka raises an eyebrow. “That a direct quote?”

“Yeah. I don’t even think I’ve ever seen the Sages literally running, but apparently there’s a first time for everything.”

Like mostly-ending the war only for the walking dead to happen, Sokka’s pretty sure they’re both thinking. “Don’t suppose they might’ve mentioned what exactly Aang is supposed to do?”

“That would’ve been too easy,” Zuko says dryly, before sobering. “Aang hasn’t figured anything out?”

“He doesn’t even think there’s a spirit behind this.” Which had all sorts of disturbing implications that Sokka refuses to consider right now. “So Suki decided to come with you?”

Zuko doesn’t say anything about the blatant change of topic. “Insisted, more like.”

Sokka grins – that’s Suki, all right – before he looks over at the other addition to their group. “And Azula?” he asks quietly.

“She’s my sister. I–” Zuko scrubs a hand roughly over his face, shakes his head. “I couldn’t just leave her behind. She’s my sister.”

And if Sokka hadn’t already noticed how tired Zuko looks, that would’ve been clue enough. Yeah, they’ve all made their fair share of jokes about Zuko being a broken record about honour and capturing the Avatar way back when but really, he’s never been one to repeat himself. Sokka isn’t even sure Zuko realises that he’s doing it.

He takes a page from Toph’s book and punches Zuko on the shoulder. “Get some sleep, hotman,” he says over Zuko’s splutter. “We’ll still be here in the morning.”

“You better be,” Zuko grumbles as he heads off to bed, but when he flops down to sleep it’s right between Suki and anything that might come at them.

Sokka turns back away with a smile.

.

.

.

.

hell yeah sokka pov

also my other atla fics are here and here if you need a pick-me-up after that, i swear they’re actually like. my usual funny fare

[pinkandgreenarepurpleandyellow]

Prompt 5 “…where it doesn’t hurt.” For Kaoru x Baki

(This one got away from me a little, so i’m putting a keep reading)

Warning for mentions of gore/injury and heavily injured character

Kaoru’s walking down the street when he hears it, the well-known sound of an injured man slowly starting to bleed out. But as he passes he sees a much smaller collapsed body than he expected. Looking at it, he can see something else he did not expect; his boyfriend, lying in a half-dead mess on the ground, eyes going vacant.

“Baki……What the hell?” Kaoru asks as he sees his boyfriend coughing and rolling onto his side in a way he’d never done before. Baki tries to explain, but the start of the word is cut off by the coughs flying out of his mouth along with the blood. Kaoru knows where the nearest hospital is, one that will treat Baki without asking questions. He kneels down and wraps his jacket around Baki before scooping him up and starting the short trek to Kureha’s office. Resisting the urge to break into a sprint is harder and harder as Baki’s breathing grows less and less present, but they make it.

—-

When Baki finally opens his eyes again Kaoru practically sags with relief. The first thing he does is text Kozue ‘he’s awake’ like he said he would. The second is hug Baki until the teen squwaks like his ribs are almost breaking, and Karou quickly lets go in fear of hurting his boyfriend, at least until Baki makes grabby motions at his shirt and lunges forward, hugging Karou as far as his arms and IV will allow him to. The embrace lasts for who knows how long, but they break apart when a rock hits the window of the room. Lesson learned a month ago, Kaoru quickly opens the window, and right on time too, just a second before Kozue backflips into the room, throws a basket of cookies by the bedside, and does her best to hug Baki as hard as humanly possible. 

“Have you ever thought about not pole-vaulting into hospital rooms, Kozue?” and the second she turns to look at him Karou regrets asking the question.

“First of all,” and her gaze and pointing finger are somehow more terrifying than almost any enemy he’s faced, “no. The elevator’s broken and i’m not gonna climb 12 flights of stairs and take 200 hours to get here when i can take exactly two minutes to vault and flip up the ledges. And secondly, my best friend is injured in the hospital, almost dead, and you try to tell me to not get here asap to make sure he’s okay? Shut up,” and on that note she goes back to hugging Baki, who is now awake enough to start worrying about the chewing out she’ll give him. 

The two of them had broken up a few months back, but it had been mutual and the two remained on good terms, actually being closer than before. Baki had begun teaching Kozue how to fight, and she got along quite well with the martial arts, her experience in gymnastics and cheer aiding her agility and flexibility. In return, Kozue helped Baki relax more and learn to be happy as a person, rather than simply treating adrenaline as joy. The result was that Baki had become more stable outside the fights he regularly engaged in, and Kozue gained the acquaintance of many famed martial artists, all of whom were more than happy to take on a student like the girl currently reading Baki a lecture on safety and not getting stabbed in alleyways.

(Plus, she’d helped Karou out more than once with getting together with Baki, so they’d learned to get along a bit better than before.)

Kozue stays for about an hour, one that both Baki and Karou appreciate her being there for. She’s the one who knows how to keep Baki calm when he is already so, rather than Karou’s ability to calm him down from full anger or panic.

When she does leave she does so with a smile and a promise to let them have the room to themselves for the next hour. What this actually means is that she will probably frighten the doctors and nurses away for an hour before she swan dives out of the window and frightens the medical staff that haven’t gotten used to her comings and goings for lessons with Kureha.

Although he wants nothing more than to talk, Karou feels his eyelids getting heavy, feels both himself and Baki falling asleep, and soon the two are sound asleep, Karou half sitting half lying on the bed and Baki lying mostly on top of him, his legs dangling off into the air slightly. Just before he’s out completely, Karou presses a kiss to Baki’s forehead, the one place he knows isn’t hurting right now, just as he hears the scream of the doctor, quickly being reassured by the nurse. So Kozue has left the building in her usual style after all.

—-

Two hours later Baki is checked out and walked home by Karou. On their way back Baki absentmindedly grabs Karou’s hand. It’s a nice day out, peacefully sunny. The two decide to take the long way to Baki’s home, through the park, into the movie theater to see a vintage film they both love, into a restaurant, and finally, as the sun sets, they make it to their destination. Baki’s too tired to be working out right now, and both of them agree to a night of doing little. 

While they’re laying there Baki starts falling asleep again. Karou moves to cover his boyfriend up with the blanket, and as he does, Baki takes his hand again. The teen then proceeds to pull himself on top of Karou and lie down there, head on the gang leader’s chest. Baki the proceeds to try to use his right arm to ruffle his boyfriend’s hair before his hand is gently grabbed, and Karou moves the hand to his lips, kissing it and smiling down at the adorable blush now covering Baki’s face.

They fall asleep in this position, and everytime one of them moves even slightly, Karou’s lips brush against Baki’s hand in butterly kisses, kisses that won’t hurt even a bruised hand.

[personaehq]

INCOMING MESSAGE …

FULL NAME: ikeda shiro ALIAS: originally dee, aoi, tomomi ANDROID TYPE: DHC#453 MANUFACTURE DATE: 2116 PHYSICAL AGE: 26 ALIGNMENT: pro-defiant OCCUPATION: barista at lenoir café AFFILIATION: n/a ACCOMMODATION: ecostay apartments, sangenjaya FACECLAIM: moon taeil

ACCESSING: BACKGROUND …

i.

LIFE BEGAN AS DHH#004, nicknamed ‘ dee ’. his eyes opened and he was greeted with a lovely apartment living room, a tired woman, and a sweet two year old child who looked at him with large doe eyes. he greeted them kindly, politely, like he was programmed to do. ground rules were laid and he was left on his own to tend to the woman’s child, asuka. he was good to the child and the child grew attached to him in place of his no-show father who didn’t bother attending any of the chaperoned visits with his own son.

years passed by like this, dee blissfully ignorant of his life being nothing more than a tool for his human owners. he had no opinion when the mother took back her ex-husband, now sobered and clean of his drugs thanks to a few months in rehab. he just knew he needed to side step the man whenever they were in the same room together. dee was none the wiser to the real truth about the man. until…

one evening, the mother had to stay late and instructed dee to cook dinner for the family in her absence as she knew her husband couldn’t cook. there was soon shouting from the living room as dee worked, asuka running from the living room and into the kitchen to hide behind dee. by this time, the father was drunk and irate at something asuka had done and chased his son into the room with his belt in hand, heavy buckle dangling menacingly.

dee calculated it in his head — asuka shuddering as he hugged dee’s waist, the man in front of him looking right at asuka with anger in his eyes and determination in his steps. his protocol gave him no information on what to do, but asuka begged for dee’s help and dee backed up, chin tilting. just that action drew that deadly anger to dee instead.

the first hit from the buckle caused his left audio processor to bust and he could hear asuka whimpering somewhere behind him. dee could only tell asuka to run away as the man grabbed at dee to move him but he didn’t dare budge, giving asuka enough time to run. by then the man didn’t even care about running after his son. no… all his anger was taken out on dee.

ii.

LIFE AS IPS#453, aka aoi, was good. aoi wasn’t one of the super popular models, but he was known well enough. every couple of months his memory was wiped as per protocol, but strangely, he remembered everything from the very beginning of his entire career at the club. he knew he shouldn’t, but he got too naive about it.

a returning customer of his rented him every month, sometimes twice a month, and take him where they could do whatever they liked. aoi didn’t mind it, he liked being able to please this customer to the point that he grew desperate to do whatever he could for them. aoi would whisper sweet nothings when his client would calm after their time.

one time, the sweet nothings became a soft confession. aoi thought it was romantic and so he smiled, thinking nothing of the look of shock and lack of response from his partner. they merely smiled shakily and ended their session early. it was a sting, but aoi knew his love would come back. they always did.

that was the last time he saw them and the club, and he would never know it until later that his love had turned him in and he’d been wiped clean and sold to a shop as faulty.

iii.

HE’S AWAKENED AS TOMOMI, DHC#453, to two weary parents and a screaming child. they’re both business orientated and hadn’t intended to get pregnant, but they loved their child so they had tomomi specially fixed up to fit their needs. his job was to tend to the child and take care of the house. being an android, tomomi wouldn’t need any sleep and very little charge time. he was perfect for their needs.

and tomomi, well, he shouldn’t have felt happiness when he first held matsuko, the little newborn going quiet in his arms. but he did.

the memories of his previous ‘lives’ came back after a year of tending to matsuko, but they didn’t bother him. how could they? he was happy where he was and, honestly, he considered matsuko to be his baby. the parents had very little to do with the child so tomomi had fun teaching the child and being witness to her growth and her firsts of everything. the first time he was called ‘dada’ he sobbed against matsuko’s pretty hair and held her to his chest where his artificial heart beat a hollow tune.

there were times when the parents would take over and he hated those times, but he couldn’t act out, couldn’t let them know of his defiance already. he struggled during times the family would go out for the day, leaving him behind to clean up. the quiet unnerved him and all he had were his thoughts and none of them were ever good. he avoided mirrors, kept his head low near anything reflective. he didn’t want to see the new face he had now that he remembered all the way back to his first family. days were easier when it was just him and matsuko.

four years he knew matsuko; four years of holding her, cooing to her, cleaning her up, and witnessing every single first. she was his in all the ways that counted.

until she wasn’t.

he had taken her out for her birthday with the permission of her parents. he was given the money to buy some groceries for the house and a little extra for an ice cream cone for matsuko. she didn’t want to stay in his arms so he had let her down but was holding her hand the whole time, but rush hour separated them. he abandoned everything on the street in favor of looking for her.

yelling and then a loud crash drew his attention briefly, gasps of horror echoing around him as he moved towards the commotion. he’d never forget seeing his child on the concrete, the screech of sirens, and the looks of disgust as he wandered out into the road, the weight of his model emblemed shirt weighing him down like an anvil.

the parents were livid and hysterical, both of them taking shots at him with words and then with a slap to the face. the words were what hurt the most. he deserved them, so he stood there and allowed them this, letting himself pretend to be nothing more than an android who failed. inside, he was weeping, mourning the loss of matsuko. he knew he would be shipped away, sold, whatever — but he didn’t think he could handle another time of waking up as a new incarnation of himself with a new name.

so he ran. and he hid away.

iv.

NIJI WAS A KIND MAN. he took tomomi in, nicknamed him ‘shiro’; there were two other androids with niji also nicknamed after colors — midori and murasaki. with them, shiro slowly came to terms with losing matsuko and the many different lives he’d had. they made a family that shiro was accepted into and he thrived. aoi was a later addition to their little family, but she was accepted in happily and shiro helped take care of her.

they were like nomads in the lower level, moving from one hotel to another. they always rented one room, stayed a few nights if money allowed it, and then moved to another place. sometimes, they would stay in an old warehouse. shiro was the first one beyond niji to go out of his way to help bring in a bit of money by taking a small job in one of the little places near one of the hotels they frequented. it allowed them peace of mind at the very least.

life was bliss again for a while.

shiro doesn’t remember why it happened, only that it did. one minute he and his family were wandering around enjoying themselves, and the next midori was yelling at him to run and don’t look back. a man, a human, attacked them — maybe it was a group of them, shiro didn’t want to remember so he doesn’t. all he could recall is midori’s begging for him to run, for him to live.

thus, shiro got help for the injuries sustained in the attack, and lived.

v.

THE LOWER LAYER BECAME HIS HOME, head down to avoid the defiant movement and make his way to the hotel where he had a permanent little room. the owner liked him well enough and she wasn’t in the know of his origins as an android ( and if she was, she wasn’t going to rat him out ). he liked the hotel, it reminded him of his family, of midori. but he knew he needed a more permanent location, so to ecostay he went, renting the cheapest apartment he could while using the fake id niji had made for him.

lenoir cafe is where he worked before, and he continued working there. midori helped him learn how to be a barista when he was still alive, so it was another way for shiro to cling to the past. he remembered midori being stationed in the upper layer, and he knew his previous wakings took place here as well so he never spent too much time in the upper layer. but it was nice, so he’d enjoy it when he could go.

he just doesn’t expect to be caught in the middle of a riot the next time he goes.

ACCESSING: PERSONALITY…

POSITIVE TRAITS: gentle, protective, wise NEGATIVE TRAITS: secretive, self-pitying, overemotional

shiro is a good person, filled to the brim with love and nowhere for it to go. through all his ‘wake ups’, he has never changed personality, not once. he’s gentle in both touch and with words, soft voice and sweet smiles are his staple. while he pities himself, he’s not one to lie around with it. he internalizes a lot of it and it puts him in a somber mood, his usual smile vacant from his face. kindness might be his biggest and best trait, but that doesn’t mean he’ll stop himself from giving another a stern warning or sharp comment. he might not stand up for himself, but for others, he’s quick to step into at least a verbal ring. do not mistake his kindness for weakness, that’s a mistake one musn’t make with shiro. at least not when it concerns the ones he cares for. he’d go to most any length to protect them if need be.

… END OF MESSAGE.

[mericmulciber]

evening, everyone —- i’m grey (cst, he/him). stoked to be a part of a harry potter roleplay ??? i’ve always loved this fandom, but never had the courage to indulge in it so deeply. i fully expect to drown, and i’m okay with it. i will be playing two characters, but my main creep is mr. meric mulciber. a problematic, patricidal death eater whose claim to fame is leading a nefarious merchants guild with interest in supplying the public and underground markets with dark, dangerous curios. oh —- he’s also a werewolf smh. 

** IF YOU’RE INTERESTED IN WRITING WITH ME OR CAUSING TROUBLE WITH MERIC, PLEASE HIT ME UP !!

* △ — the dark lord has targeted [ MERIC MULCIBER ] !  the muggles say he holds resemblance to [ MILO VENTIMIGLIA ]. the [ 38 ] year old [ MALE ] was [ DOGGED & RESOLUTE ] before the war, but have now become [ RUINOUS & UNPREDICTABLE ]. though they were once a part of [ SLYTHERIN ], they have now taken up the position of a [ VENTURE CAPITALIST ]. whispers throughout the ministry claim that the [ PUREBLOOD ] is actually [ A DEATH EATER ], but i wouldn’t report that to the daily prophet. 

( A E S T H E T I C )

he is the devil-gleam of still water. something dark and nameless moving in the deep. he is the black banks of crooked rills where river’s silt washes bones clean. he is the guttural, bending note of a lonesome howl ringing, spectral and suspended, over the unvisited swales. he is patricide and broken picture frames. he is regret and calculated self-loathing. in the chambers of his heart, there are curios and contraband that twinkle dully; there is an inventoried mayhem, glass shelves lined with telestic treasures, each tagged and priced with nefarious intent. peeling damask and stained wainscoting line corridors stretching longer than shadow, and he is the lycanthrope that paces them. the rooms of his home are lonely and soundless as tombs and the blank spaces echo the voices of pureblooded spirits. timepieces keep measured time. black loam adheres to monstrous paws, leather jackets hide rising hackles and scars. through swarming, beating wings bleeds the milk white of a vacant sky —- and the dark mark calls him. he is no man’s thrall, but he is no man at all.

( P A R T I C U L A R S )

✗. patronus: black stallion. ✗. wand: blackthorn, unicorn core, 11 3/4″, brittle flexibility. ✗. amortentia: motor oil & mint & black leather & petrichor. ✗. height: 6′. ✗. sexuality: demi-romantic pansexual. ✗. house: slytherin. ✗. boggart: his mother’s impending descent into madness.

( H E A D C A N O N S )

i. meric murdered his father for his infidelity and for his constant physical and mental abuse. he was 14 years old. edgard hoof, house mulciber’s very loyal servant, helped him cover up the murder, but the reality of it did not come without consequences. though his mother, igora, professed her forgiveness, her soft mind and sensibilities have begun to cave over time. she now lives in rural england in her family’s cottage and though meric tries to coddle her and keep her safe from harsh realities, it’s only a matter of time before she loses herself to madness.

ii. the merchants of death is the name of his notorious merchant’s guild. he leaves most of the bookkeeping to edgard, but still calls the shots. he has a small group of witches and wizards in his employ that scour the natural world for powerful ( forgotten ) wonders he can sell for a high price. they report to him with their findings and his merchants place them discreetly on their dusty shelves. his clientele are desperate and greedy. 

iii. meric has a small fascination with muggle cars and motorcycles. this isn’t something he openly shares with anyone, but he has a garage where he stores and tinkers on them. when he feels all eyes are off of him, he enjoys taking long rides through the country.

iv. his work as a death eater feels natural. while he doesn’t like being a pawn or feeling like he has to answer to someone else ( it goes quite harshly against his personal, moral code ) it proves a great outlet for the darkness that lives inside of him —- a passenger, an entity, a spectral being that follows him. there is some cognitive dissonance here, but he prefers to indulge in the less human parts of himself as it is far less painful for engaging with the parts of him he buried alive long ago.

v. being a werewolf was something he resented at first. he has now accepted it and relishes in the excuse to lose himself in the glare of a full moon. this reality no longer feels like an illness or an affliction but a part of who he is.

TBC.

[culinarystrategist]

☪(bonus for ot3 nonsense, maybe? 8])

Symbol Meme (Closed)

@antimundi & @reiivusu

☪  five times our muses almost hold hands, and the one time they do.

i.

Will there ever come a time, Ignis wonders, when he’ll feel as though he isn’t intruding whenever he walks into a room and Noctis and Ravus are already there? He hopes so, but this transition from never having had a lover to suddenly having two is taking some getting used to, and there may well forever be a part of him which suspects he’s only there due to his closeness to Noctis. A package deal, as it were. But that’s not to say he’s made to feel unwelcome. On the contrary, both Noctis and Ravus beckon him over, placing dual kisses on his cheeks and making all the right noises to suggest that they’re pleased to see him.

Yet he still cannot bring himself to initiate anything. Perhaps it’s his lack of sight that makes Ignis so sensitive to the atmosphere. Even Ravus is taking bigger steps these days, openly voicing his affection for his lovers. Noctis is typically Noctis; what he wants, he gets, even if it means pushing one or other of them onto the couch to straddle them and pin them into submission. How Ignis wishes he had that sort of freedom with his wants and desires.

All he really wants is to act upon his needs but whenever he imagines himself walking up to Noctis and Ravus, taking one each of their hands in his and leading them towards the bedroom, it feels so beyond his capabilities that he doesn’t even bother to try out of fear of failure.

Or rejection.

ii.

As much as Ignis enjoys time spent with both of his lovers, there’s still something very special about having a one-on-one moment with Noctis. They reminisce about the old days, about their teenage years and how much of a brat Noctis was. Everything’s so different now; with all their experiences behind them it feels very much like they’re discussing another world altogether. Although confident in his strides, Ignis walks close to Noctis, almost shoulder to shoulder, just in case there are any pitfalls in the path ahead, and as they walk, Noctis describes the scenery as best he can. He puts so much effort into painting a verbal picture of the sights around them that it’s almost as if Noctis recites poetry.

The backs of their hands brush together, and Ignis can feel the twitch of Noctis’ fingers, as if they’re crying out to be held. But Noctis hangs back and allows Ignis the opportunity to make the decision of whether to expand upon that contact or not. The compulsion is strong, but what if someone sees them? Public displays of affection are contrary to Ignis’ sensibilities and he talks himself out of it before he really has the chance to consider it. Noctis’ disappointment is almost palpable, even though he does his best to keep it out of his voice.

The walk home is much quieter than Ignis would like.

iii.

It’s long overdue, but since they’re in Tenebrae, Ignis finally decides it’s time to show Noctis the home in which he spent many happy childhood days. His grandmother’s estate is still in good shape. Although, technically, Ignis owns the land and buildings upon it, he donated it to the staff his grandmother had, allowing them, and their descendants, to reside rent-free within their homes in perpetuity, with only one condition - that he be allowed to visit on occasion, to take in the ambiance of her vast library or to walk in the gardens of which she was so proud.

This is the first time he’s done so. Until now, it’s never felt right, but with Noctis at his side, Ignis feels able to walk those familiar halls once more. He might not be able to see, but in his mind, he can visualise the layout and he gives Noctis a tour, never once faltering nor misremembering a detail. There’s the kitchen, where he learned to bake under his grandmother’s expert tutelage. The study, where he learned about the history of his Tenebraen family. The lounge, where his grandmother would read to him extracts from the Cosmogony.

Finally, he takes Noctis to the room where he slept and while Ignis sits on the bed, Noctis pokes around, apparently enjoying this insight into his lifelong friend’s unknown early years.

“I never knew you collected these,” Noctis says, pressing a small wooden cactuar into Ignis’ hand. As his fingers close around it, Ignis smiles both at the feeling of the toy and the sensation of Noctis’ fingers skimming his palm. He hesitates, and by the time he closes his hand, Noctis’ is gone.

iv.

Lazy mornings are something Ignis has come to enjoy, much to his surprise. He’s always been an early riser, and it used to be that he’d get everything he needed done for himself completed before turning to his official duties. Nowadays, there are fewer duties to take care of, but he still likes to get up and get busy. But lately, he’s been persuaded by his lovers to tarry awhile, and languish in the comfort of a large, soft bed, with legs tangled around his and two sets of soft lips to kiss.

As pleasurable as their intimacy is, Ignis does feel a pang of guilt. He could be preparing breakfast, or at the very least, making coffee and cleaning any dishes from the night before. Could be, but isn’t. Instead, he trails fingertips over taut muscles and tilts his head back as teeth graze his throat. Noctis croons into his ear, vocalising what they should be doing and it’s nothing close to brewing coffee or frying bacon. To demonstrate his agreement with Noctis’ suggestions, Ravus pulls Ignis closer, the sharp tips of his metallic fingers digging into soft flesh.

Ignis gasps, and Ravus withdraws immediately; the magic of the moment disappears in an instant. Shaking his head, Ignis tries to reassure Ravus that it wasn’t a gasp of pain, but of something akin to pleasure. It didn’t feel bad in the last. But they each have their own insecurities. Noctis worries that he’s clingy sometimes and Ignis worries that he’s too reserved. What Ravus worries about is that he’ll somehow hurt one or other of his lovers. Each must work through their fears so that they may come out the other side, stronger, but reassurance helps. Tenderly, Ignis reaches for Ravus’ prosthetic but stops short, lifting his hand to cup his lover’s cheek instead.

“Please,” he murmurs, head bowing slightly. “Continue with what you were doing…”

v.

Having known Noctis for practically their entire lives, Ignis knows the signs and he can tell when Noctis is up to something. What that something is, Ignis doesn’t yet know, but he will find out. He has to, because if it’s something terrible, like Noctis having second thoughts about their unconventional relationship, he wants the opportunity to put things right. Somehow.

Despite all the signs, Ravus claims to not have noticed anything amiss, which Ignis finds hard to believe. He tells Ignis not to worry and that maybe Noctis is having an off day, which is feasible, Ignis supposes, but still sounds unlikely. There’s something far deeper going on and it preys on his mind until he finally cracks. Cornering Noctis, much to Ravus’ background amusement, Ignis demands the truth; if Noctis wishes to break up their little group then he should say so. It might hurt, but in the long run, it’s better to be honest than to string someone along.

Whatever Ignis expects, it’s not laughter, but that’s exactly what he gets. Even Ravus joins in and as much as that should be a good thing, Ignis feels the heat of humiliation creeping over his face.

“It’s not what you think!” Noctis says quickly, subduing his mirth the best he can. “It was meant to be a surprise, but… Come on. Come with me.”

Unconvinced and sullenly following the sound of Noctis’ footsteps, with Ravus trailing along behind, Ignis is led to the lounge and told to sit down with his hands held out. He’s obedient, if sceptical, and obliges, only to feel a sudden weight in his grasp.

“My guitar!” How Noctis even managed to find it is beyond Ignis’ comprehension but he recognises it as his own, right down to the minute scratches on the fretboard which he carved to help learn chords. Setting the guitar to one side, Ignis grabs hold of Noctis, getting him around the wrist to tug him forwards into a very grateful, very relieved kiss.

vi.

Noctis and Ravus have been withdrawn for days, and Ignis knows why: the date of Lady Lunafreya’s birthday approaches, bringing with it melancholy for both. No matter what Ignis says or does, he cannot seem to cut through the fog which envelops them, but that doesn’t stop him trying. He cooks their favourite dishes, which they obediently eat but without their usual enthusiasm, and he recites poetry, which they receive with politeness, but he knows that there aren’t really any words which can truly salve their feelings.

Actions do speak louder than words, and Ignis has one final gambit. He finds his two lovers sitting together in mournful silence, each feeding off the other’s woe. The aura surrounding them is thick and oppressive and while Ignis fully comprehends the reason for it, he’s absolutely positive that this isn’t what Lunafreya would want for either of them. They deserve to be happy, and it’s up to Ignis to remind them of that fact.

Ignis isn’t subtle about it. He marches straight over to where they sit and, with dazzling accuracy, squeezes himself in between the two men, wiggling his backside to force them to move over and let him in. The fact that he imposes his presence upon them is a testament to how far he’s come in his confidence. Not so long ago, he’d have taken a vacant seat instead. But his position is important. He needs to be precisely where he is so he can take Noctis’ hand in his left, and Ravus’ hand in his right to give them a comforting squeeze.

“I hope you know that I love you both very much,” he says. “And although I cannot and would not tell either of you to snap out of it, but will remind you that you have each other and you have me. Perhaps rather than making this a solemn time, we ought to celebrate life. Ours and Lunafreya’s.”

[findingschmomo]

[IwaOi] And All the Prince’s Men Part IV - Missing

Title:  And All the Prince’s Men Pairings: IwaOi, side KageHina, side KyouHaba Rating: T Genre: Royal AU, Implied references to suicide, Angst, Friendship There is something in Ushijima’s superior attitude, in the way his eyes bore down into Iwaizumi that makes him feel inferior. That in the grand scheme of things, it is Ushijima who will be remembered, and Iwaizumi who will be forgotten. That there is no question who wins this battle. That Iwaizumi had lost the moment he was born, two months before Ushijima, but leagues beneath him. Links: AO3

Prince Tooru is dead.

When the news first hits Iwaizumi he does not react. He is stock still in disbelief at the weeping maid in front of him, a woman who had searched him out immediately to relay the devastation. He stares at her, mind broken for a moment.

And then the world speeds up as he returns to reality and he is shaking his head. Because it’s not true. It can’t be true. She takes his hands in her own, comforting and sorry, tears pouring from her eyes. But his hands are numb in her grip and he can’t stop shaking his head.

Because she’s wrong.

Because it isn’t true.

Because Iwaizumi would know. He would know if Oikawa was dead. Would feel it in his bones, would feel it in the corners of his heart and the depths of his soul. It would be an all encompassing anguish that he would feel in his very core.

But he feels none of this.

He feels nothing at all.

So it can not be true. It is a lie. A terrible, terrible lie. And Iwaizumi isn’t sure who created it, if it be Shiratorizawa, the King or Oikawa himself. But he knows it is a lie, and he finds comfort in that.

“Who told you?” he hisses, voice gravelly as he leans closer to the woman.

She takes in a few shuddering breaths, “The King,” she murmurs, “He called us into the hall and he read aloud the message the chariot brought back.”

Iwaizumi’s fingers tense up in her hands and she lets out another sob. She pulls her hands back from him, using them to shield her face as she falls to her knees in absolute sorrow, “Oh Iwaizumi, please, please tell me it isn’t true.”

Iwaizumi crouches down, hands on her shoulders, “It’s not true.”

She shakes her own head then, sobs muffled by her hands but still loud enough to tear at Iwaizumi, “His voice did not even waver when he read it,” she hitches, voice low so that no one else can hear her but Iwaizumi’s straining ear, “His voice felt so cold, Iwaizumi. In the light, God, in the light it looked like he was smiling.”

The maid looks up at him, eyes red and puffy, but brow pulled into an expression of such utter disgust in the wake of devastation, “How can anyone smile at the death of their son?”

Iwaizumi squeezes her shoulders.

Nothing stops Iwaizumi from bursting into the Great Hall after he helps the maid up onto her feet. He leaves the barrack’s sparring grounds, rushing into the castle, pushing through grieving servants crumpling to the floor around him. No one stops him. If anything they turn away in their grief at the sight of him, unable to look at a reminder of what they all once had.

He finds the King in the Great Hall, ordering morose guards to get back to work. Prince Tobio sits on the steps beside his father, face in his hands, inconsolable. He’s not crying, but his eyes are vacant as they stare at the ground. As if there is nothing left for him to give.  There are sobs echoing throughout the hall from maids weeping on the ground, butlers crouched in grief, servants shaking their heads in utter disbelief, all of them sent into another spiral of grief much too soon.

It is chaos.

And in this chaos, Iwaizumi stomps his way right up to the royal family unimpeded. There are no tears in his eyes, there is no falter in his step, there is only fury, painting his eyes red.

“Where is he?” he seethes, staring straight into the King’s eyes, hands balled into fists at his sides. He stands up straight, hands trembling only with anger, and the desire to harm.

The King does not seem surprised by his words nor his presence. He keeps his gaze even, barking in turn, “He’s dead, Iwaizumi. Taken by bandits coordinated by a traitor. Shiratorizawa will pay dearly for this oversight, do not worry.” And the King smiles.

Iwaizumi shakes his head, mouth parted in disbelief at the absurdity of the King, “You’re lying!” he shouts, fingers desperate to wrap around the King’s neck, “Where is he! What have you done with him?”

“Iwaizumi,” Prince Tobio croaks, and Iwaizumi can’t bear to look at him in this moment. Prince Tobio has never been one to wear grief well, even in the light of all his recent practice. But Iwaizumi is in no mood to comfort. He only wishes to destroy. He turns away, rage coursing through his veins and he needs to leave. Needs to leave before he does something he can not take back.

Kyoutani bursts into the room, providing him the perfect distraction. “Where the fuck is he?” the angry knight screams.

His presence is not met as benignly as Iwaizumi’s intrusion. Kyoutani has never been a familiar sight within the castle walls, has never built any kind of rapport with any of the servants. All he is known for is the destruction that tends to follow in his wake. It is no surprise that the guards immediately swarm him to keep him at bay.

Iwaizumi grits his teeth, stepping into the fray and grabbing the young knight. He turns to the guards, “I will deal with him. Let him go.” There is hesitance painted on their faces, but it blends with the sorrow etched across their features. Iwaizumi softens his voice as best he can, “We’re all going through a lot right now.”

The guards pull back, eyes somber and tear stained, leaving Kyoutani for Iwaizumi to take care of. Iwaizumi hauls the screaming teen out, back into the courtyard, shoving him up against the wall, “Look, I’m just as upset as you are about Prince Too--“

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about that shithead!” Kyoutani snaps, pulling free of Iwaizumi’s hold.

Iwaizumi punches him. It is an immediate response. A rage filled response. Uncalled for, honestly, and something Iwaizumi should apologize for when his gaze is not so clouded by red. But it does shut the teen up, leaving him winded and clutching at his cheek, eyes wide. Iwaizumi’s voice drips venom when he speaks, no remorse present in his tone, “Don’t you ever, ever, say that about our Prince again, do you hear me Kyoutani?”

Kyoutani growls under his breath, turning his face away. “Whatever,” he manages to say. He wipes some blood away from his nose with the back of his hand, smearing it up his arm.

“Kyoutani,” Iwaizumi warns, fingers clenching into fists once more at his sides.

“There’s more important shit to worry about!” Kyoutani insists, eyes desperate once they return to searching Iwaizumi’s face, “They’ve locked him up somewhere! They’re saying he did it, Iwaizumi. That he killed him. Do you know what that means?”

Iwaizumi squints at him, uncomprehendingly, “What? Who? What are you talking about?”

Kyoutani lets out an annoyed huff, “Get your head out of the Prince’s ass. They’ve locked up Yahaba! They’re saying he did it, because he was with the Prince when it happened.”

“What?”

“Yeah, and that’s bullshit and we both know it. Yahaba’s an infuriating asshat, but he’s not a murderer. And he loved the Prince more than anyone,” Kyoutani pauses, giving Iwaizumi a sneer, “Well, almost more than anyone.”

Iwaizumi looks away, kicking at the castle wall to expend his pent up adrenaline, “He’s not dead,” he mutters, placing a fist on the wall and restraining himself from punching, “I would know if he was dead. He’s not. He’s out there. Somewhere. Probably being an idiot.”

Kyoutani glares at him, “Well if that’s true than the idiot’s just signed Yahaba off to his own death so fuck him.”

Iwaizumi sighs, running his fingers anxiously through his hair, “I’ll find him. I have to find him. And then, then it will all get sorted out.”

“Are you not fucking listening to me?” Kyoutani shouts, “Yahaba’s been charged with the murder of the first Prince! He’s going to be executed!” He grabs Iwaizumi’s shoulders roughly, forcing him to look at him, “We have to do something!”

Iwaizumi is the one to growl this time, pulling free to look away again, “I don’t know what to do! Alright? What do you want me to say? You think I’ve got all the answers? I have nothing, Kyoutani! I have never had anything my entire life!”

Kyoutani is unconvinced, eyes narrow in disgust, “You know this castle inside and out. You have to know where they’re keeping him,” he insists, “I’m getting him out, Iwaizumi. I dont give a shit if you help me. But I’m getting him out and you’re not stopping me.”

Iwaizumi leans against the wall, head looking up at the sky, taking in the sight of birds flying in the air. Circling around him. Predatory. Observant. He groans again, hands pushing at his eyes. This has all been too much in so little time. His mind is a mess of emotion and racing thoughts. He doesn’t know what to do.

He doesn’t know what to do.

A bird’s cry pierces through the air, swooping low above them.

A falcon.

An idea suddenly lights up within his mind and he turns to Kyoutani, “We need, we need to stay calm. I think know who can help us. Help us come up with some sort of plan.”

-----

“And you’re positive? You’re sure?” Lord Takahiro insists, eyes still red from the the news.

Iwaizumi nods. He had grown surer with each passing day after hearing the first news. It was fact in his head, “He’s not dead.”

“But they said there was blood all over wagon,” Matsukawa comments, fingers tugging at his hair, “They even found a dagger soaked in it!”

“Yeah, and Yahaba slept right through that amount of bloodshed?” Kyoutani huffs, fingers digging into his crossed arms, “Calling bullshit.”

“Kyoutani,” Iwaizumi hisses, a warning to be more polite. They were still dealing with nobility, no matter how familiar he had become with them.

“I heard...Yahaba was the one...who,” Lord Takahiro starts.

“Yahaba didn’t do it!” Kyoutani growls, “In fact, he probably knows what happened and that’s why the King locked him up! Why are we just sitting around doing nothing? They’re going to kill him!”

“Kyoutani, we need to stay calm.”

“Get the fuck off your high horse, Iwaizumi,” Kyoutani snaps, “You’ve shattered three vases today. Don’t tell me to be calm when you can’t even get your legs to stop shaking.”

“Are all knights so foul mouthed?” Lord Takahiro comments.

Kyoutani whirls to face him, “Don’t even get me started on your bullshit, Fancypants.”

“Kyoutani!” Iwaizumi shouts, slapping him hard on the shoulder, “Sit down and be quiet!”

“You want me to put a blanket over him? That’s what works with my birds,” Matsukawa offers, trying to inject some semblance of humor into this terrible conversation. Kyoutani does not appreciate it, but he sits down all the same, scowling at the three but keeping his mouth shut.

Iwaizumi relaxes his shoulders for a moment, turning back to the noble, “He’s not dead. He’s probably run off somewhere. I don’t think he’s really thought this through enough. I need to go find him.”

“If that’s true, he could be anywhere! It’s been days,” Hanamaki says, frown tugging at his lips.

“I know. But I can’t just sit here,” Iwaizumi replies.

“What’s your plan?” Matsukawa asks.

“Scour every corner of the continent until I can find that idiot and give him some choice words about making us so worried,” Iwaizumi huffs, and then he reddens, adding, “Sorry, I shouldn’t call the Prince an idiot in front of you.”

“You’re allowed to call him whatever you want, Iwaizumi.” Matsukawa replies, “Nice bandage on your neck by the way. Real subtle.”

Iwaizumi flames up, hand coming up to cover the sore spot on his neck. He’d covered it up immediately with some gauze, making up some excuse about a spar gone wrong. Was it really that obvious?

“Anyway,” he coughs, returning to the subject at hand, “Kyoutani is right. Yahaba probably knows more than any of us about what happened. We need to get him out of here. He’s a good kid.”

Matsukawa licks his lips nervously, “He’s been charged with the murder of a royal. That’s high treason. You don’t just walk away from that.”

Iwaizumi’s face is stern, “I’ll break him out and take him with me when I go. The King’s already probably searching for an excuse to lock me up to.”

“He’s been acting so strange since the Queen passed,” Lord Takahiro agrees, “Won’t talk to anyone. Doesn’t trust anyone anymore. Everyone was shocked when he didn’t postpone the wedding at all. I heard Prince Wakatoshi was offering to wait a whole ‘nother year.”

“Not to mention this morning. He’s off his rocker.” Matsukawa agrees.

“What happened this morning?” Iwaizumi asks. He’d been steering clear of the castle the past few days, trying to lie low as he prepared for his journey, borrowing supplies from sympathetic servants, taking food here and there.

“He sent Prince Tobio off, right on schedule.” Lord Takahiro explains, “Kid looked miserable. More so than usual.”

“He’s not even fourteen yet?” Iwaizumi murmurs, furrowing his brow.

“Not to mention he just lost his mom and his brother weeks apart from each other. Sure the Prince can be a brat, but this is just cruel beyond words.”

“It makes no sense,” Lord Takahiro continues, “He’s putting so much pressure on Prince Tobio to ascend, it’s absolutely ruining him. And all this when he’s one of the few Kings blessed with two sons. Why was he always so quick to throw Prince Tooru away?”

Iwaizumi swallows.

“Have you guys not figure it out yet?” Kyoutani huffs, unable to keep to himself quiet for long, “Isn’t it obvious?”

Iwaizumi flashes him a surprised look, fear seizing him suddenly. Does Kyoutani know? How could he know? Had Oikawa slipped up at some point? Had he seen?

“Prince Tooru’s clearly not his kid. They look nothing alike.” Kyoutani continues, “He’s just a copy of his mom. Of course the King would hate him and want him out. No one likes a bastard.”

“Huh,” Matuskawa mulls the idea over, “I never really thought of it that way. But it makes sense.”

“Did you know Iwaizumi?” Lord Takahiro asks.

“This is nonsense,” Iwaizumi replies, trying to calm down his racing heartbeat with the knowledge Oikawa’s secret is still safe, “I’m not here to gossip. I’m here to make a plan. I need your help.”

Lord Takahiro nods, “What do you need us to do?”

--------

Iwaizumi had only visited the castle dungeons once before. Deep within the palace undergrounds, it seemed like the perfect place to find a hiding Oikawa during an intense game of hide and go seek. He had thought himself brilliant for coming to the conclusion, racing down the steps and diving past the guard with a joyful grin.

Only to be scooped up and scolded furiously, barred entry and given some lashings for the disrespect.

He never even entertained the thought of sneaking in again.

(Oikawa had been hiding in a cabinet in the pantry room.)

But he does remember where the dungeons are, and he knows approximately where the cells would be found. And years of helping Oikawa study every inch of the castle allows him to know one more important thing: all cells have a grated opening to the surface, to allow a sliver a light and some rainwater to slip through.

Iwaizumi is certain these grates are found by the north east side of the castle, the side normally ignored when guiding visiting nobles through the grounds. The grass there is attended to once a week rather than every other day. There are few flowers grown, and just as Iwaizumi suspected, there are slits in the ground right by the castle walls.

The slits are about an inch wide and five inches long, with small metal rods spaced an inch apart within them. The slightly unkept grass shields them well from obvious sight but they spot them easily when they try.  

“He’s down there?” Kyoutani asks, beside Iwaizumi, crouching low to the ground to eye one of the grates.

“He’s in one of them, at least.”

“Yahaba!” Kyoutani hisses, crawling to each grate. There are groans from a few, curses from more and the occasional grubby fingers clawing out into the fresh air. Iwaizumi feels his stomach churn, tries to remind himself most of these people are actual criminals to assuage his growing guilt. Stay focused on the task at hand.

Finally, at the end of the row, they see a pale shaky finger poke through the grate. This grate is noticeable smaller than the others, barely leaving enough room to fit two lean fingers through.

“Yahaba?” Kyoutani repeats, leaning close to the grate in question.

“Kyouken?” A hoarse voice responds, finger twitching at the air.

Kyoutani drops down to his knees, digging at the dirt around the grate with his hands. Iwaizumi grits his teeth, putting a hand on his shoulder to stop him, “There’s no point, see. It’s all stone under here.”

“Iwaizumi?” Yahaba’s voice is scratched at the edges, as if his throat is so dry the words tear his skin up as he speaks them.

“Are you alright?” Iwaizumi asks, slipping down onto his knees to hear the quiet responses.

“Could be better,” Yahaba whispers back, attempting at a laugh that only ends with him coughing. He pulls his hand back, most likely to cover his mouth.

“This is stupid,” Kyoutani growls, pulling at the grate, “How are we getting him out?”

“We just needed to see which cell he was in. Remember the plan.”

“You’re getting me out?” Yahaba murmurs, fingers slipping back into the fresh air, back into sight.

“We’re going to try,” Iwaizumi promises.

“You shouldn’t,” Yahaba insists, voice raising slightly, despite how pained it sounds, “You’ll be charged with treason too. And, and, oh God, Iwaizumi it was awful. I think, I think--please don’t call me silly, just please believe me, I think I’ve been cursed.”

“Are they giving you water?” Kyoutani asks.

“I’m not crazy,” Yahaba snaps, “You weren’t there. You didn’t see.”

Iwaizumi feels his heart accelerating, feels the hickey at his neck burn under its bandage. Because he knows what Yahaba probably saw, probably felt. He has a good guess, at least.

“We’re getting you out.” Kyoutani retorts instead, “We can talk later.”

“How?” Yahaba wonders, “They’ve got me in my own section, in the deepest part of the dungeon.”

“Trust us,” Iwaizumi replies instead, “We have a plan. Just stay alert and keep quiet, and do as we say when the time comes. Got that?”

Yahaba doesn’t reply. Kyoutani pokes at one of his fingers, and Yahaba’s darts out, wrapping his index around the other’s fingers in a desperate need to touch another person. Iwaizumi pulls at the grass around him.

“Kyoutani let’s go, we need to prepare for tonight.”

Yahaba lets go with hesitation, fingers disappearing back within the cell and out of sight. Kyoutani stands up, taking a moment to kick at the castle wall until his toes are sore within his boots. Iwaizumi lets him have this, and once Kyoutani places both feet back on the ground, they head back into the castle.

Kyoutani works quietly, for once, following Iwaizumi’s careful instructions: pick up the last bit of of rations Akane left out, pack up the spare travel bags Lord Takahiro lent them, make sure to fill the canteens with water and hide everything in Pumpkin’s stall at the stables.

Iwaizumi sharpens his knife and the dagger Matsukawa gave him from the Hanamaki family collection. He sheathes both and pockets them. He spends his day in the basement, helping servants sort the grains and keeping an eye on the guard by the dungeon entrance. Unfortunately, it’s one of the few people in the castle he isn’t friends with. He supposes the man must not leave this area much.

As the afternoon fades into evening, servants start to disappear from the space for the comfort of their beds. Iwaizumi offers to finish up, receiving gracious thank you’s from his fellow workers. He smiles and nods at them. It’s around this point that Kyoutani joins him in his task, discreetly sorting grains into their own ration pouches.

The guard pays them no mind, Iwaizumi long becoming a fixture of the area since beginning his work near the start of the day. The pair keep their work slow paced, dragging on, waiting and waiting and waiting.

Until, finally, a voice from above interrupts them, “Is there a guard down there!?”

Iwaizumi, Kyoutani and the guard look at each other with surprise at the call, gazes meeting before flying to look towards the stairs. Lord Takahiro rushes down, looking about the room, “I need a guard!”

“What’s the matter, sir?” The guard steps forward nervously, bowing graciously at the sight of the visiting Lord. Iwaizumi and Kyoutani quickly do the same.

“I need help outside, one of our falcons has gotten loose and my attendant needs assistance out there.”

“I can not leave my post, sir.” The guard responds awkwardly.

Lord Takahiro bristles, “I didn’t realize guarding grains was more important than my prize winning falcons, who’s shows, might I remind you, are the royal family’s favorite past times.”

“Sir, I--“

“You’re wasting my time and the King’s money! I can’t believe this!” Lord Takahiro snaps as he raises his voice, stomping his foot for good measure. The guard swallows, glancing at Iwaizumi for aid. Iwaizumi wonders if the guard maybe knows him better than he thought. Iwaizumi gives him a slow nod, and the guard looks a bit more relaxed.

“Okay, sir, please lead the way,” the guard mutters, and Lord Takahiro rushes up the steps with the man at his heels.

Iwaizumi and Kyoutani pad to the dungeon door quickly once the pair are out of sight. The door is locked, as expected, but Kyoutani is quick to kick the door knob clean off. Iwaizumi catches it before it can clang to the floor, setting it aside. They open the door.

It’s pitch black inside the hallway, a few torches illuminating the forms of sleeping prisoners huddled in small cells. Iwaizumi isn’t sure if there’s another guard inside here but he wouldn’t be surprised. He slips his dagger out, holding it ready.

Kyoutani picks up one of the torches from their stands, carrying it with him. Iwaizumi starts counting cells, stepping careful down the damp hall. Each cell is mostly uniform, thick metal bars caging whatever prisoner inside. Once they reach the end of the hallway they find a thick steel door with a small little slit.

Kyoutani crouches down, bringing the fire with him as he tries to peer into the slit. Eyes meet his in the dark, almost making him jump, “Yahaba?”

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Yahaba whispers in turn, fingers darting out of the opening.

“We need to hurry,” Iwaizumi reminds, pushing Kyoutani out of the way to look at the locking mechanism on the door. He frowns, biting his lip as he tries to slip his knife into it, twisting and turning, trying to listen to the tumbles within for some sort of tell tale click.

“There’s a key,” Yahaba murmurs, interrupting his work, “I’ve seen it, they like to hold it out to me when they slip me my rations,” he explains, “Check the walls, I think their might be a loose stone or something? I don’t know, sometimes I hear stone scraping against stone.”

“What’s going on?” Another prisoner shouts from nearby, “Is someone down there?”

Yahaba pulls his fingers back into his cell. Iwaizumi motions for Kyoutani to search the area while he keeps fiddling with the lock.

“Who’s over there? You got any food on ya?” Comes the prisoner’s voice again, growing louder and more persistent. Iwaizumi keeps his head down, working with very little light. Kyoutani has placed the torch in one of the empty stands above, feeling around the walls, clawing at any piece of loose stone, pushing away any bits of straw. He drops to his knees, crawling around the floor, keeping his face close to the ground.

And then he feels it, a stone piece shifts underneath the weight of his hand. He reels back, taking both hands to pry the stone free of the ground. It’s hollow, and inside he sees a thick metal key. He almost barks out a triumphant sound, but shushes himself, handing it over to Iwaizumi quickly.

Iwaizumi slips the key into the lock with ease, opening it up and watching the door creak open noisily. He opens it further, enough for Yahaba to slip in and out. Kyoutani takes back the torch. Yahaba scrambles forward, squinting in the light, holding out his trembling hands to shield himself.

The light isn’t enough to see well, but Iwaizumi can infer that the cell itself is tiny compared to the barred ones that line the hall. Its ceiling too low to stand in, and if you kneeled in the center and spread your arms out, your finger tips would graze the walls. He looks away.

Kyoutani grabs Yahaba, “Can you walk?”

Yahaba leans against him, “I don’t know.”

“Fuck,” Kyoutani hisses, pulling him closer.

“Here, give him to me, I can carry him if we have to,” Iwaizumi whispers, manhandling Yahaba onto his back. Yahaba wraps his thin arms around Iwaizumi’s neck, fingers clutching at him weakly. Iwaizumi hoists him up effortlessly, his gut sinking at how light the taller man was.

How long had Yahaba been here?

This isn’t the time to think about it. Kyoutani takes the lead, scrambling back up the hallway and up the stairs to the basement. There’s no time to close the door behind them. They rush up the steps and into the servant’s hallway, dark now that they’ve all mostly turned in for the night.

They turn the corner, and a maid freezes in front of them, mid yawn, in just her night slip. The trio hold their breath, staring at the frightened woman. She stares right back at them, scream catching in her throat. Her eyes fall on Iwaizumi, gaze flicking up to Yahaba’s before climbing back down to Iwaizumi. She blinks.

“Please, Koto,” Iwaizumi whispers.

Koto’s hands clench into fists up at her chest but she looks down, shuffling away silently back into her room. The trio let out a breath and keep racing down the hall until they reach the servant’s exit and carefully slip outside.

“Get rid of the torch,” Iwaizumi orders, now that they’re bathed by comforting moonlight.

Kyoutani nods, “Meet at the stables.”

Iwaizumi pads through the castle grounds, mindful of the guard’s schedule. He sees a falcon circling the air on the other side of the castle, calming himself a little. The distraction was still on. Hopefully more guards were over there, swept up in whatever farce Lord Takahiro and Matsukawa were fabricating.

He makes it to the stable, depositing Yahaba onto the ground. In the light of the moon the attendant looks worse than he imagined. Ugly purple and yellow bruises color his wrists and ankles. One foot looks twisted in a way Iwaizum is unable to look at for long. His clothes are tattered and caked with god knows what. He smells horrendous, now that Iwaizumi can pay attention to more than just his racing nerves.

Iwaizumi tries to think, fast. Needs a change of plans, “Yahaba, can you stand?”

Yahaba rocks forward onto his knees, using shaky hands to lift himself up from the ground. He favors his good foot as he goes. He grapples at the stall post, using it to straighten himself. Iwaizumi bites his lip. At least Kyoutani had dressed Pumpkin already, loaded and read to go.

“I’m going to lift you up. Swing your legs,” Iwaizumi warns, grabbing Yahaba’s waist and bringing him up into the air. Yahaba grits his teeth as he manages to get onto the horse, gripping her reigns tightly and doing his best to stay up right.

Iwaizumi starts unloading Pumpkin, removing the bags from her saddle. Yahaba stares at him, “What are you doing?”

“Pumpkin’s not gonna ride for long with you, Kyoutani and all of our things on her. I’m moving this stuff onto Lady.”

“Lady? Why Lady?” Yahaba hisses, blinking.

“Good luck charm,” Iwaizumi mutters slipping away to the neighboring stall to dress up the beautiful white mare.

“She’s the most finicky horse we have!” Yahaba snaps in a hushed tone, “This is insane.”

“This whole night is insane,” Iwaizumi counters, grabbing the saddle and reigns.

“There’s still time,” Yahaba murmurs, “You can go back. I can just leave, with Pumpkin, and I won’t say anything about you helping if I get caught. You’ve done more than enough already.”

“You’re greatly misunderstanding our mission, Yahaba,” Iwaizumi mutters, climbing onto Lady and shushing her with a few calming pets, “We’re not just running away. We’re coming back with Prince Tooru in hand.”

Yahaba blinks at him, eyes wide, the whites of them catching in the moonlight, “You don’t understand,” he shudders, “Prince Tooru is gone. It took him, Iwaizumi, no one believes me but it took him.”

“A demon?” Iwaizumi huffs, tone unimpressed.

Yahaba looks like he’s seen a ghost, all color draining from his face as he stares at the man in utter disbelief, “H-how? How did you know?”

Iwaizumi shrugs, “A hunch.”

They’re interrupted by a loud piercing scream from the other side of the castle, as light pours from the corner of the grounds. Thick black plumes of smoke billow out into the air as flames grow taller and taller.

“That idiot,” Iwaizumi spits under his breath, straining to look in the dark. He spots Kyoutani, rushing toward them, stopping only a moment to swing onto the horse, right behind Yahaba. Iwaizumi pulls Lady to attention, “What did you just do?”

“Thought the orchards needed some more light,” Kyoutani’s grin is manic, “And I got all the guards to run over there instead of the gate, so save your scolding until later, ok?”

Iwaizumi lets out a huff, but kicks his horse into a gallop. Kyoutani mirrors him on Pumpkin, arms caging Yahaba to take hold of the reigns. The fire blazes behind them, and with the growing chaos Kyoutani loses all desire for secrecy. He turns his head back, letting out a celebratory whoop and shriek, “Kiss my ass you privileged fucks!”

Yahaba manages to elbow him into submission before he can start chanting, “Anarchy! Anarchy!”

Iwaizumi feels a headache brewing at his temple, but he ignores it. He keeps his head forward, his grip on the reigns tight, and weaves down the path. Leaving the Aoba Johsai castle grounds. Leaving the place he’d called home for so many years of his life. Setting his sights for the nearby border.

Never does he feel any sort of need to look back.

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

Iwaizumi kneels by the river bank, leaning forward to refill their canteens. The morning light filters through the trees, dappling his skin with a myriad of dark spots. Once they’re full, he cups some water in his hands, splashing it onto his face and rubbing the clear liquid into his tired eyes.

They had spent the past few days riding, keeping to the dense forests and out of sight. But travel was slow when there were no paths for the horses to follow. That, and Yahaba had to regain his strength. He was exhausted, limbs jittery and still weak.

Iwaizumi glances over to his companions, a few paces away from the river bank, by the tree where they had tied their horses nearby to graze. Yahaba sits, back leaning against a solid trunk, eyes squeezed shut in pain. Kyoutani kneels by him, wrapping clean cloth tightly around the splint on Yahaba’s left ankle, securing it with a rough knot. Yahaba lets out a hiss.

Iwaizumi wanders back over to them, offering Yahaba a canteen he greedily takes.

“What the hell did they do to you in that cell?” Kyoutani growls, chewing at his lip once he finishes looking over Yahaba’s multitude of wounds.

“Nothing,” Yahaba murmurs, swallowing down another gulp of water, “Most of this is from before.”

“Before?” Iwaizumi asks, sitting down beside him.

Yahaba nods, sitting up with a new surge of energy, having slept for most of the journey until this much needed break, “After, it all happened. They arrested me immediately, and we still had, you know, three days journey to get back to the castle. And, well, they kept questioning me and I, I had nothing to give them. Well, nothing they would accept.”

Iwaizumi grimaces, “Can you, can you tell me again what happened?”

Yahaba sighs, running fingers through his light colored hair, “It’s, it’s a blur. It was awful. I remember everything was normal, the Prince said goodnight. We were in one of the nicer roomier wagons, and the prince was curling himself up in his bed cot. And then, I think, I went to bed too, on the floor nearby like usual. And then there was like, a scream. I can’t describe it. It was just, a terrible noise that cuts right through you. It woke me up and there was blood everywhere and the Prince was gone, Iwaizumi. Just, gone. And instead there was, there was a monster, and we looked at each other and, I felt this, this pressure. It pushed me back I couldn’t move! And it, it just, it disappeared into the night,” Yahaba takes in a shaky breath, “The monster, it left, it left this dagger in the room. It must have been what it used on the Prince and,” he chokes a little, on his words, “I don’t know if the Prince is alive or just dea-“

“He’s not dead,” Iwaizumi interrupts, turning to face Yahaba completely, “He’s not dead.”

But Yahaba does not look comforted by his words. He looks scared, eyes caught on Iwaizumi’s throat, trembling hand rising, “What, what’s wrong with your neck?”

Iwaizumi covers his hickey self consciously, his fingers touching his bare skin rather than the bandage he’d  wrapped it in. His face flames up. The cloth most have fallen off when he’d washed his face. Shouldn’t the mark have faded away by now? And why would an embarrassing bruise send Yahaba into another fit of panic?

The answer to this becomes clearer when the attendant raises his voice, “Iwaizumi! Why do you have a, a pentagram on your neck?”

“What?” Iwaizumi blinks, lifting his hand away and craning his neck to see. Of course it was physically impossible for him to do so.

Kyoutani pushes his way into the conversation, roughly moving Iwaizumi’s face the other way to get a look for himself. “Holy shit,” he exclaims, “This is what you were hiding? I thought you just didn’t want the world to see your gross hickey.”

Iwaizumi slaps his hand away, standing up to stalk back over to the river, “I don’t know what either of you are talking about,” he snaps. He leans down, peering at the water, but the current keeps his image too distorted to see anything.

Iwaizumi gives up, climbing back up to his companions with a furrowed brow. Yahaba looks at him warily, Kyoutani with confusion.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on either ok. But there’s, there’s just a ton of stuff going on right now. We need to stay focus. What matters now is finding Prince Tooru.”

“Did a demon curse you?” Yahaba asks, “Was a demon following Prince Tooru and that’s why, why it took him? Kyouken stop looking at me like I’m insane! I’m not!”

Lady rears back suddenly, from her spot nearby, letting out a shrill neigh in surprise. The trio whirl around, eyes wide. Kyoutani grabs for the dagger, Iwaizumi covers his neck with his hand and Yahaba tries to hide his splinted leg from view. They’re tense as the horse rears up and down, shaking out it’s neck and neighing.

But she does not seem alarmed. She seems...excited?

“Lady, Lady is that you?”

Iwaizumi stands up like a bolt because he knows that voice. Yahaba stares at him fearfully, back pressing tighter against the tree as if it could help.

“Search the area,” the man orders, petting the horse to calmness once more.

“Shit,” Iwaizumi curses, dropping back down to rip off a strip of cloth to tie aroumd his neck.

‘We have to run for it!” Kyoutani growls.

“It’s too late,” Iwaizumi snaps back, knowing running away at this point would only cause an armed chase, “Just, just follow my lead.” He takes a calming breath before stepping out of his cover, into the man’s direct eye sight “Prince Wakatoshi, it is good to see you.”

Prince Wakatoshi stares at him in surprise, “Iwaizumi?”

“I apologize, I did not realize we had crossed the border alre-“

“We?” Ushijima questions, walking briskly over to him, “Is he with you? Do you know where he is? You must tell me everything.”

Iwaizumi feels his heartbeat calm upon the realization that word of his crime and treason had not spread to the neighboring kingdom. For once he thanks the King’s penchant for paranoia for saving his skin, “He’s not with me,” he murmurs back, “But I assume you had the same idea as me?”

Ushijima’s eyes look disappointed at the news, but his expression remains as blank as ever. Still, his hands are heavy on Iwaizumi’s shoulders, tense.

“We found more intruders, sire!” a knight calls.

“My companions,” Iwaizumi corrects, quickly.

Ushijima nods, eyes darting over to the two teens beeing shoved closer, “Is that, is that Yahaba?” Iwaizumi nods in turn. Ushijima releases him, finally, “I think it best we all talk. Gather your things, we’ll escort you back to the castle.”

“Did we venture that far from the border? My mistake, sire. I am very sorry for the intrusion.”

Ushijima narrows his eyes at him, “Do you think me a fool, Iwaizumi?”

Iwaizumi feels a cold sweat begin to bead at the back of his neck, but he keeps his eyes level with the Prince’s.

Ushijima looks away to bark out more commands at his knights, and before Iwaizumi has time to check in with either of his friends, the three of them are being flanked by the impressive Shiratorizawa guard. Their lances glint in the sunlight, and for once Kyoutani keeps his mouth shut and head down.

It is evening by the time they are ushered into the castle. Ushijima has the foresight to bring them in unannounced, through a side hallway directly up to the empty guest quarters. They are shoved into a room that Iwaizumi quickly recognizes as Oikawa’s private quarters.

Ushijima stays with them, taking a seat on one of the armchairs. Kyoutani helps Yahaba into the bed to get off his sore ankle. Iwaizumi turns to Ushijima deciding to remain standing. He holds his hands behind his back to hide his nervous fiddling.

He can never quite tell where he stands with Prince Wakatoshi Ushijima. Best to play it as safe as possible. He waits for the Prince to address him, to lead the conversation. He can stand the awkward silence until then, interrupted only by Kyoutani and Yahaba’s quiet murmuring to one another.

After a moment, the Prince begins, “I assume you believe he is alive as well?”

“I know he’s alive,” Iwaizumi replies.

“Because the body was never found?”

“Because I would know if he was dead. I can’t explain it better than that,”

Ushijima frowns, leaning back in his chair, “If he’s out there, he’s no longer in Shiratorizawa. I have scoured every inch of this kingdom, twice, and nothing.” He pauses a moment, taking his time to take in Iwaizumi carefully, “If you know anything, anything at all about Tooru’s whereabouts, you must tell me.”

“He was taken,” Yahaba mutters, from his place in bed. He looks exhausted, face tinged red with fever from the whole ordeal he’s suffered, “Demon, took him. I saw it, Prince Wakatoshi, you must believe me.”

Iwaizumi curses inwardly, but tries not to react to the outburst. Ushijima looks incredibly intrigued by Yahaba’s words, “Demons?” he repeats, eyes flicking over to the stacks and stacks of books Oikawa keeps in his room.

“Prince Wakatoshi,” Iwaizumi starts, stepping to block his line of sight, “What do you know?”

Ushijima squints at him, “I know my fiancé has gone missing and is presumed dead, and that I wish to find him and secure his safety as soon as possible.”

Iwaizumi swallows, “Do you have any idea why Prince Tooru would want to run off?”

“He was taken!” Yahaba calls from the bed, insistent.

The Prince ignores him in favor of narrowing his eyes further at Iwaizumi, “I understand what you are implying, and I am offended by your tone. Might I remind you that I found you trespassing in my kingdom, with weapons and what I can only presume to be stolen goods? I do not like dancing around issues. If you have something to say, say it outright.”

There is something in Ushijima’s superior attitude, in the way his eyes bore down in Iwaizumi that makes him feel inferior. That in the grand scheme of things, it is Ushijima who will be remembered, and Iwaizumi who will be forgotten. That there is no question who wins this battle. That Iwaizumi had lost the moment he was born, two months before Ushijima, but leagues beneath him, found amongst dirt and garbage. And this feeling kindles a flame in Iwaizumi’s chest, a need to fire back, to prove himself, to show that he is more than what is expected of him. That he does matter, that he can win. That he has won.

And it’s a feeling that makes his lips loose and his tone righteous and angry, and it makes him spit out, “Prince Tooru does not love you.”

Ushijima is not affected by the words, not in the way Iwaizumi expects, “Love was never a part of this equation. Love is something commoners are privileged to, not something ever even alluded to in my circles,” Ushijima snaps, “I have known Prince Tooru for my entire life, have been engaged to him for eight years, do you think I ever believed he loved me?”

Iwaizumi looks away.

“I have no interest in playing a game of who knows Oikawa best. We both have the same aim, I do not see why we can not work together and share information,” the Prince’s golden eyes flare a moment, as he adds, “And if you believe the idea of being wed to me is what sent him off, you are terribly mistaken.”

Iwaizumi grits his teeth, “How can you be so oblivious? He was miserable! Of course that’s why he’s gone off!”

“You were never privy to our talks. We had the issue settled . We knew where each other stood. Once Prince Tooru’s father finally passed or abdicated we agreed Tooru could just move back home and help advise his brother during his reign. The marriage would stay only for diplomacy’s sake. It was his idea. Our wedding could not be the reason for his disappearance. Something else must have triggered it.”

“The Queen died,” Kyoutani offers from his perch beside Yahaba’s drowsy form.

Ushijima shakes his head, “When I spoke with him at the funeral a few weeks ago he seemed eager to leave the somber castle and wished for a distraction. Something else must have happened too.”

Iwaizumi feels his heart clench, feels the bruise on his neck pulse painfully. Guilt swirls in his stomach at his own realization, rising up in his throat like bile that he he forces himself to swallow down.

“He was taken,” Yahaba insists, fighting to keep his eyes open, “I saw it. A monster, blood everywhere. He didn’t just go. Why won’t you believe me? Why won’t anyone believe me?”

“I believe in what you saw, Yahaba,” Iwaizumi says carefully, eyeing Ushijima.

Prince Wakatoshi nods, getting up and taking one of the books off of Oikawa’s desk, “I do not doubt demons were involved in this if that is what you saw. But I am sure that Tooru left of his own volition and that he therefore must be alive.”

“This conversation makes no fucking sense,” Kyoutani growls, “How do you know he’s alive if you believe a demon attacked him?”

Iwaizumi says nothing.

“The demon was not attacking him,” Prince Wakatoshi explains, closing the book in his hands, “It was making a pact with him.”

Iwaizumi still says nothing.

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

They spend a few days hiding out in the Shiratorizawa castle. Yahaba feels his strength return to him, fed on more than just measly rations, in a warm dry bed. Kyoutani stays on his best behavior, keeping Yahaba company with only a few complaints here and there.

Iwaizumi spends the days with Ushijima, pouring over the books in Oikawa’s collection, mapping out possible areas to investigate. Ushijima lends him a map of Miyagi for these purposes, helping him carve out a route that would keep them unseen.

“Hug the river,” Ushijima advises, following the blue line along the map, “Keep to the forests that border it.  We’re close to the Harvest, so most people will be working their farms and preparing for the festivals. There shouldn’t be many people out hunting at all.”

“This path runs through two cities,” Iwaizumi points out, tapping them on the map with a frown.

“They’re small towns. There is no perfect path to Karasuno, this one has the least obstacles for you. I would advise continuing right through the town, avoiding them would add weeks to your journey.”

Iwaizumi frowns, crossing his arms as he studies the map, “Any advice for not coming off as foreigners?”

“My people are hard workers, loyal and kind. You all should be fine,” Ushijima pauses a moment, then adds with a sterner tone, “Do not dare steal from my people. I will take it as a personal affront.”

Iwaizumi raises his hands up, “I’m not really the stealing type.”

“And your lackey?”

“Kyoutani’s a good kid once you get to know him,” Iwaizumi assures.

Ushijima does not look convinced but decides to drop the issue in favor of opening up a thick book onto of the map. He flips the pages to a rough sketch of a forest. He maneuvers the book further down the map scroll, trying to match it to a location.

“This forest, the one that seems to be a concentration of demon activity, I have a few ideas where it could be,” Ushijima starts, “There are two possibilities,” he points with his finger at the forest bordering Karasuno and Nekoma, “It could be this one, which is also the sight of the never ending territory dispute. There is a lot of dark energy here, a lot of unnecessary death. I would not be surprised if it was teeming with demons because of it.

“However, it could also be here,” Ushijima continues, finger dragging past Nekoma, near the edge of Ushijima’s map into the Fukurodani Kingdom, “There is a lot less sources discussing this area, we unfortunately do not have a partnership with their library, but this forest could also be the one spoken of in the accounts. But, it will be a lot more difficult to get to and will take several more weeks.”

Iwaizumi rubs the bandage on his neck, biting his lip as a name is whispered into his ear. A memory, “He’s there,” he murmurs, pointing at the forest in Fukurodani, “He’s definitely there. Or at least heading there.”

“How are you certain?” Ushijima asks.

“Akaashi Keiji,” Iwaizumi responds.

Ushijima waits for further explanation, but receives none. He sighs, cracking his neck and taking up his pen to mark the spot on the map, “Alright well, I can only offer advice through Karasuno, once you enter Nekoma and beyond, I have no expertise to lend.”

“That’s alright,” Iwaizumi murmurs.

“I still believe you should hit up the border forest, just be careful when you do. I would not be surprised if people there are wary of outsiders and easy to anger. Keep a low profile.”

Iwaizumi nods, “Thanks, this is really helpful.”

Ushijima hums in agreement, “How are you hoping to bring him back if you find him?”

“When I find him,” Iwaizumi corrects, rolling up the map tightly in his hand and slipping it under his shirt safely, “I’m not worried about that part. I’ll knock some sense in to him, don’t worry.”

Ushijima purses his lips in thought, “I am afraid this is the most I can do for you. I regret that I am not able to accompany you. But what with growing tensions from Aoba Johsai, I--“

“It’s alright. You’ve done more than enough. Thank you.”

Ushijima nods, closing the thick book, fingers slightly fiddly as he tries to think of the best words to express the complex emotion wishing to come out of him.

“Iwaizumi,” he starts, carefully, eyes resting on Iwaizumi, “bring him back safely.”

“I will.” Iwaizumi says, and when he says it it feels like a promise. Ushijima straightens up his shoulders in turn giving another silent nod, and letting out the breath he had not realized he was holding.

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

“Don’t grip it so tightly,” Kyoutani snaps, “Just enough so it doesn’t slip out of your hands.”

“You death grip everything you hold,” Yahaba counters, “It’s confusing.”

Kyoutani growls under his breath, lowering Yahaba’s arm slightly to correct his stance, “Ok, now the thing with daggers is you need to use your speed to get the upper hand. Your blade is small, you need to get close before they realize what’s coming.”

“Right,” Yahaba nods, fingers squeezing the daggers grip experimentally. He lunges forward, taking quick steps, bringing the dagger down in an arc. His sudden movement has the blade thrown out of his grip entirely, embedding into the ground near Iwaizumi.

“Suggestion,” Iwaizumi calls out, plucking the knife from the ground, “We practice with sticks.”

Yahaba reddens a little, “He told me not to hold on to it tight!”

“I didn’t tell you to throw it, dumbass!” Kyoutani barks back, red himself.

“If you guys have so much energy to fight, shouldn’t we be moving on?” Iwaizumi wonders aloud.

The two teens grumble something about the horses being tired, and Iwaizumi chuckles to himself. He returns his gaze back to the unfurled map on the ground, marking off where they had stopped for the day. It had been about two week and a half since they left the Shiratorizawa mansion and they had made decent progress.

They had just passed through the second town, where they had spent the night at a local inn. The people were just as Ushijima described, and as long as they mentioned nothing about politics nor demons, everything was fine. The people were all too busy to worry about three poor travelers passing through.

The villagers raced around, collecting supplies and building stalls for the upcoming festival to celebrate the Goddess of Harvest and her bounty. Iwaizumi, himself, had never heard of the deity and simply nodded and smiled whenever she was mentioned.

With those two obstacles traverse, they would soon be leaving Shiratorizawa to cross into the Karasuno border. In other words, they would be leaving Ushijima’s protection. The Prince had given each of them a signed certificate giving them permission to travel within the kingdom, only to be used if they were questioned or barred entry anywhere necessary. Luckily they hadn’t needed to use it.

There were no such safe guards in Karasuno. Furthermore, Iwaizumi knew very little of Nekoma and even less of Fukurodani. Soon, they would be completely on their own.

He tries not to think of it that way. Focuses on the task at hand. Finding Oikawa and bringing him back.

A sharp pain blossoms on his shoulder and he lets out a shout. He turns his head, hand clutching at his bleeding shoulder. Yahaba and Kyoutani are upon him in seconds shouting apologies and curses, respectively.

“What did I say about using the dagger!” Iwaizumi snaps, now that he’s realized what’s happened. He tries to calm himself, because although painful, he can tell it’s a minor cut. It was more the surprise of it than anything.

And then the world goes black.

He blinks his eyes open, finds himself somewhere he’s never been before. It is dark, inhumanely dark, but for some reason he can see. There are figures all around him, looking at him curiously, grins manic and bright and fanged.

Iwaizumi backs away, pressing against a tall tree, it’s bark rough and it’s leaves like needles. He’s not used to trees like this. Just where the hell is he? Where the hell were Yahaba and Kindaichi? He looks around, foreign faces creeping closer, and he feels himself compelling them away, urging them to leave him be, pushing at them without lifting a finger.

And then he’s back, by the river, clutching his bleeding shoulder. Well, actually, he is now knee deep in the river, staring at his disheveled reflection in the rippling water. He blinks, lifting his head up to look back at a wary Yahaba and Kindaichi.

“Did you guys push me into the river?” Iwaizumi asks, perplexed, shoulders slumping.

Yahaba and Kyoutani look at each other in disbelief. “Are you serious?” Kyoutani snaps back.

“What?”

Yahaba creeps closer to him, reaching a hand out to him, “Iwaizumi, are you alright?”

“Of course, well, other than the scratch on my shoulder.”

Yahaba takes his hand, helping back onto dry ground, “You, you freaked out for a moment.”

“I did?”

“Yeah, you, you snarled at us, is the best way I can describe it. Kind of like, KyouKen does but more vicious and less silly.”

“Shut up, Yahaba.” Kyoutani snarls.

“That’s weird. I don’t...For a second there, it felt like, I was somewhere else. But, I...Weird, I can’t remember, exactly why?” Iwaizumi lifts his hand to rub at his temple.

Yahaba helps him sit back down, giving him some water to drink, “I think we’re all just tired. We should turn in early.”

Iwaizumi agrees, mind feeling a bit foggy with confusion. But as they all lay down to sleep his thoughts keep him awake. He searches for the images he had seen, searches for some sort of explanation for the weird episode. His neck burns, his shoulder stings, and the world seems much too loud to find any sort of peace in.

Worst of all he can hear his companions whispering to each other well into the night.

“Shouldn’t we have told him?”

“I didn’t want to upset him any further. He looked so confused.”

“Yeah, well, I’m confused too and would like some damn answers,” Kyoutani hisses, “He looked like he was going to kill us.”

“He was muttering to himself: are you ok? what’s wrong? oh god, you’re fine, you’re fine, don’t worry me like that, you’re fine.” Yahaba shudders.

Iwaizumi furrows his brows in his feigned sleep. He turns over, away from the teens and curling up slightly. His movement makes the other boys quiet down. His fingers come to rest at his neck, massaging at the cloth wrapped around his skin. It’s warm under his touch. He bites his lip.

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

They had been lucky for most of their journey. Incredibly lucky. But days into passing the Karasuno border, their luck seems to end. They’e not equipped for this. They’re tired, hungry, outnumbered. What lies ahead of them could be a squadron of Karasuno’s best knights, or it could be some measly vagrants. Iwaizumi was not in the mood to gamble.

“Stay down!” Iwaizumi orders, voice rough as he ducks to the ground. There are voices in the distance, shouting and laughing, metal clinking against each other.

“Iwaizumi,” Yahaba hisses, “What about the horses?”

“Leave them,” Iwaizumi hisses.

“We can’t leave them,” Kyoutani argues, “They’ll die.”

“Not to mention all of our supplies,” Yahaba agrees.

Iwaizumi stares at them, “Do you value that more than your own lives?” More shouts surround them and Iwaizumi shoves Kyoutani and Yahaba lower to the ground. He stretches his arm, cutting the horses loose with the sword Ushijima had lent him.

The horses rear up in panic, already nervous from the growing tension in the air. They gallop away, despite Kyoutani’s desperate reach for them. Iwaizumi grabs him by the back of his collar, hauling him up and into the river. Kyoutani stumbles into it, slipping in the mud and grasping at the bank to keep from washing away.

“Iwaizumi, what are you doing!” Yahaba cries, as he too is unceremoniously shoved into the water. He falls onto Kyoutani, who looses his grip. Luckily, Yahaba latches onto the bank and Kyoutani is able to grab at his other arm to keep from being pulled by the current.

“Iwaizumi!”

“Let go!” Iwaizumi shouts, but before he can say any further, or jump in himself, he is surrounded by rough bandits. He draws out his sword, holding it out defensively as they circle him. Fear grips his heart and he takes in a breath. He blinks his eyes closed for a calming moment and braces himself.

He is a knight of Aoba Johsai.

He will not be taken lightly.

The bandits surge at him, their movements untrained and clunky. He dodges them, footwork second nature as he moves around the field, swiping and lunging as necessary. He cuts away a few, realizing his advantage in skill quickly. But what the bandits lack in finesse, they win in numbers. Iwaizumi can not protect all sides of himself at once, and soon they wear away at his defenses. A nick at the back of his leg unbalances him, a swipe at his chest rips open his shirt, a pommel slams into his head, dizzying him.

The ground is slick from the recent rain and his foot slips, sending him crashing down. He scrambles, drawing up his sword. A bandit falls on him, impaling himself with a screech. Iwaizumi rolls away quickly with a start, abandoning the weapon like a fool. Another bandit runs toward him, and he braces himself. But the attack never comes. She falls to the ground instead, limp, a dagger embedded deeply in her back.

Iwaizumi sees Yahaba, mud covered and breathing heavy. The teen glares at him, rushing forward to pry the dagger free again, “Don’t you dare throw us away like that again!” he shouts, “We can hold our own too!”

“Shigeru!” Kyoutani shouts, grabbing his arm to pull him away from another bandit, lunging his sword at the attacker in turn. It slices into the stranger’s leg, bringing her down with a pained wail.

Iwaizumi rushes to his feet, blood pumping in his ears now that its not just himself he needs to protect. He grabs for his sword, using his foot as leverage on the impaled body to draw it free. He holds it up, sees his dirty face reflected in its bloody blade, and shakes his head free of any further thoughts.

Yahaba and Kyoutani fight together, with the former surging forward, nimble healed feet working to swipe at the target with quick superficial distractions before Kyoutani can step in and cut away with his sword.

Iwaizumi slices at another bandit, expertly driving his sword into his chest, watching the man slump against him. And by then it seems the rest of the stragglers have gotten the message, retreating away, dragging their wounded with them.

When there is finally peace again, Iwaizumi lets out a sigh of relief. Fingers dig into his black hair as he tries to calm his adrenaline down. His hair, he realizes, has grown longer during his journey. He drags his hand down to wipe the sweat of his brow, taking a deep breath.

He hears words reverberating in his mind, are you ok?

He supposes it’s his mind reminding himself to check for any wounds. Luckily, it seems he came out of the fight mostly unscathed. Perhaps their luck had yet to run out. He turns to his companions to make sure its same for them.

Yahaba is giddy, laughing the adrenaline off as he comes out of his first battle unwounded, “We’re alive!” he shouts in a breathy laugh. Kyoutani has a cut below his eye that beads up with blood, but that seems about it. Yahaba wipes the blood away with his thumb, a giggle still caught on his lips.

Kyoutani grabs his face, crushing their lips together with more force than necessary. Yahaba lets out a squawk, but wraps his arms around the blond for leverage, pulling him closer. The kiss is sloppy, untrained, but with the unrestrained desperation of two boys in need of each other and in a world of their own.

Iwaizumi thinks of Oikawa.

He kicks dirt at the teenagers, bringing them back, “Congratulations, but we need to head out before those vagrants decide to avenge their friends.”

Kyoutani growls at him, ears red, having just remembered Iwaizumi’s presence. Yahaba quickly stands up, face flushed. He nods quickly, silently, as if Kyoutani had swallowed up all his words. His eyes get caught on the blood staining the dirt around him, which in turn leads him to take in the battle field he’d mostly chosen to ignore once the threat had left him. A hand comes up to his mouth in horror at the realization.

He had killed someone.

Nausea builds up behind his hand and the attendant staggers away to the river to empty his stomach. Iwaizumi stops Kyoutani from running after him, holding his forearm, “Let him be,” he says, “It’s gonna take him a moment to accept what’s happened.”

Kyoutani huffs, staying put, “They attacked us.”

“They were still people,” Iwaizumi reminds, “Don’t think so little of your enemies. They deserve your respect.”

Kyoutani pulls his arm free, glaring at the ground. Iwaizumi squeezes his shoulder, and he finds a smirk decorating his features as he leans in, “Shigeru, huh?”

“Fuck off, Iwaizumi,” Kyoutani shouts, blush creeping past his ears to overtake his face as he swats the man away angrily. Iwaizumi ruffles his blond hair in turn, dodging the other’s swipes at him.

“Go wash off all that mud. I’ll go check on Yahaba,” Iwaizumi continues, patting him on the shoulder.

He finds Yahaba sitting at the river bank, hands cupping his face as his shoulders tremble. Iwaizumi takes a seat beside him, watching the river flow beneath him, unimpeded, unbothered, calm and sure.

After a beat of silence, the attendant glances over at him. “I’ve never killed anyone before,” Yahaba murmurs, fingers shifting up into his hair to tug at the light colored strands.

Iwaizumi rests a hand on his shoulder, squeezing, “That’s a good thing.”

“You both, you didn’t even react.”

“After a while, you get numb to it. You have to, when you’re out there. I’m not saying thats a good thing, it’s just, well, it’s the way it is.”

Yahaba rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, taking in a shaky breath, “We need to go, don’t we? I’m slowing you down again.”

“You’re not slowing us down.” Iwaizumi assures, “You’re keeping us mindful.”

“You say that, and yet, you were ready to throw us both away.”

Iwaizumi winces, face scrunching up at the accusation. He stands up, brushing dirt off his butt, “I didn’t throw you away. I wasn’t sure how bad it would get. I wanted to make sure you’d be safe,” he offers his hand down, helping pull Yahaba up once he takes it, “I didn’t know you’d improved your aim so fast.”

Yahaba smiles, shaky, “I just needed to get used to the weight of a dagger. Aim was something Prince Tooru drilled in me during archery practice,” he falters, smile fading from his lips at the memory. The name hangs in the air between them and neither decide to comment on it.  

Iwaizumi turns away, “Come on, we really do need to leave. I want to get out of this cursed forest. It’s teeming with more outlaws than I thought.”

Yahaba swallows, nodding, following after him as they rejoin Kyoutani further ahead. Iwaizumi takes the lead, letting Kyoutani fall into step with Yahaba. Yahaba nudges his elbow with his own and Kyoutani returns the favor with slightly more force. The smile cracks on Yahaba’s face once more, much more sincere and Iwaizumi focuses back on the path ahead.

“If only we had our horses,” Kyoutani grumbles.

Iwaizumi decides not to deem the dig with a response. The trio walk in silence, moving away from the river to the outskirts of the forest. Iwaizumi would rather not be ambushed again, he would like to keep an open view. They would slip back in only to sleep. No more interruptions.

“Hurry up, dumbass!”

The trio freeze, and Iwaizumi nudges them back into the darker woods, ducking them all behind a thick tree. Hoofbeats echo onto the path before them, pausing a few paces ahead.

“They came from here, so, so, he must be here,” the angry voice insists, and Iwaizumi shares a startled glance with Yahaba’s wide eyes.

Another voice joins the first, “You know, it’s hard to keep up with you and drag these other horses with me Kageyama! Oi, what’s with the face! You want to go?”

“It’s not just any horse! It’s Lady! Are you an idiot? It means he’s here!”

“Alright, alright, we’ll look I guess. But we need to reach Lord Kei’s castle before nightfall or my dads will be angry.”

Iwaizumi bites his lips, weighs his options, wonders if this is a blessing or a one way ticket back to the Aoba Johsai dungeon. Yahaba nudges him, giving him a nod. Iwaizumi sighs, and steps out of their cover.

The Princes startle in front of him, interrupted mid-argument. Prince Shouyou draws his sword clumsily, hackles rising in surprise. Prince Tobio stares at him, “Iwaizumi?!”

Prince Shouyou lowers his sword, “Huh?”

Prince Tobio slips off his horse, “What are you doing in Karasuno?”

Iwaizumi remembers to bow, for good measure, “It is good to see you again, sire.” He responds, “I did not expect to find you here either.”

Prince Tobio flicks his gaze out to the forest behind him, “Is he, is he with you?”

Iwaizumi swallows, “No.”

Prince Tobio’s face twists further into a scowl that Iwaizumi has become familiar enough with to call it grief, “Did father send you to bring me back?”

Iwaizumi blinks, shaking his head, “Prince Tobio, I am here of my own volition.”

“Oh wait! I know you!” Prince Shouyou exclaims, “You were the really cool knight.”

Iwaizumi ignores him, keeping his gaze on his prince, “You believe Prince Tooru is alive, too?”

Prince Tobio looks away, “I know it’s, it’s silly, it’s been weeks,”

“It’s not silly,” Iwaizumi places a hand on his shoulder, pausing a moment before continuing, “Will you accompany us through Karasuno? I will tell you everything I know. We all will.”

Prince Tobio looks back over at the admission, eyes widening as he sees Yahaba and Kyoutani step out of their cover to join them. Prince Shouyou lets out a surprised noise.

“Yahaba?” Prince Tobio murmurs, eyebrows furrowing tightly against his eyes, “You’re...You’re here?”

Yahaba bows deeply, legs trembling, mouth moving anxiously before he has time to think of a proper greeting, “Sire, please, believe me, I would never ever harm Prince Tooru. The charges against me are a lie, please, please believe me.”

“Iwaizumi, did you, did you--?” Prince Tobio asks, taking a step back.

“Prince Tobio, we are here because we know where Prince Tooru is and we are going to bring him back,” Iwaizumi says carefully, bring his hands back to his sides.

Prince Tobio backs away further, face a painting of confusion, “Were you the one...Oh God, Father has been...I...”

Yahaba steps forward beside Iwaizumi, “Prince Tobio, we are here to help you.”

Iwaizumi nods, “Let us help you.”

Prince Tobio looks back over to Prince Shouyou who shrugs, nudging him forward. Prince Tobio grits his teeth, flushing slightly despite his glower, “Alright, we, we need to talk. Follow us.”

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

“I was not expecting so many guests, Prince Shouyou,” Lord Kei states icily, “Nor in such a...disgusting state.”

Iwaizumi steps on Kyoutani’s foot to prevent him from barking something rude out.

Lord Kei notices this but decides not to deem it with a response. Instead, he sweeps his eyes across them, distrustfully but with a hint of amusement, “Well, I suppose I can’t argue with a Prince, let alone two,” he sighs, “Yamaguchi! Draw our guests’ servants a bath and get them cleaned up. They can meet up with us in the drawing room when they are presentable.”

Iwaizumi grits his teeth behind his smile. What a rotten attitude from a Lord, he thinks, especially one so young. He’s certain he’s about Prince Tobio’s age. Tall people were absolutely insufferable.

A sweet servant boy, Yamaguchi, Iwaizumi presumes, makes his way over to them with a shy smile. He leads them out to the baths and helps draw them water. It is a welcome luxury, after weeks toiling on the road, to relax in warm water and wash the grime off their skin.

When they dry off and are presented a clean change of servant’s clothes, Iwaizumi dares to ask for some scissors and a razor. Finally, he is able to give himself a proper shave, with a sharp clean blade. He rubs at his smooth skin with a sigh of relief.

Yahaba cuts Iwaizumi’s hair, as neat as he can. Kyoutani lets him do the same, grumbling a bit about watching out for his ears. Yahaba leaves his own hair be, other than to snip at his bangs to keep his vision clear.

They are lead into a drawing room. Iwaizumi appreciates the beauty of the interior, rich oranges and dark woods creating a warm environment of luxury. He wonders if Karasuno had grown richer in the four years since his last visited, or if the Tsukishima manor had better taste than the castle proper.

The nobles sit on cushions facing around a long table. Yamaguchi offers the entering guests cushions of their own, lining them up by the wall, out of sight.

“So you’re asking me a favor? You wish me to lie?” Lord Kei murmurs, hands leaning back to support himself.

“It’s not lying,” Prince Shouyou insists, “Just, stretching the truth. Only a little!”

“And why should I lie for the sake of a foreigner? Prince or not? Oh wait, or are you King by now?”

Prince Tobio bristles, teeth gritting, “I am not the King.”

“My mistake,” Lord Kei chuckles, eyes flashing, “You must forgive my confusion. Aoba Johsai has been quite a mess recently hasn’t it?”

Prince Tobio’s glare is fierce enough to make Prince Shouyou shrink beside him.

Lord Kei is unaffected, smiling cooly, “How many down now? First the Queen, then the First Son, and now the King’s gone mad, hasn’t he?”

Prince Tobio stands up in his fury, but Lord Kei meets him there, towering over him, “I don’t understand your anger, Prince Tobio. Isn’t this quite the stroke of luck for you? To ascend so quickly, so easily? It’s like the stars have aligned to make you King.”

Prince Tobio grabs him by the collar, bring him down to his height. Lord Kei smiles, keeping his hands at his sides, “Unless, perhaps, Prince Tobio has no wish to be King at all? And that is why he runs from his kingdom? When they’ve fallen into chaos and need him most?

“Or is it, maybe, because the people would rather have chaos, then a selfish King they have no love for at all?”

Iwaizumi is at his own boiling point, hearing a noble talk trash of his kingdom, but before he can step in Prince Shouyou stands up, pulling the two apart, “Might I remind you that I am still here and I am in charge of this kingdom,” he snaps, “Prince Tobio has his reasons. And this favor is to better his kingdom if you’re so concerned about it, Tsukishima. Now if you want to have a fight we can go outside. I’ll take you!”

Lord Kei blinks at the outburst, letting out a light chuckle, “You’re always so amusing, Prince Shouyou,” he murmurs as the redhead scowls at him, “I supposed I would have to follow any favor asked of me by the beloved Sun Prince of Karasuno, wouldn’t I? Though I do not see why helping Aoba Johsai from falling into collapse would be at all beneficial for us.”

“Strengthens our ties!” Prince Shouyou explains, pulling a scowling Prince Tobio closer to his side with a grin, “I’m a master of diplomacy, so just trust me, ok?”

“Right,” Lord Kei says, “I will give your servants provisions for their journey. And I will tell the Kings, if they ask, that you have lengthened your stay in my company. Is that all?”

It is. So, Lord Kei excuses himself into the hall, followed by a scampering Yamaguchi. Iwaizumi can’t help leaning out his head to follow them with his gaze, catching snippets of their conversation as they storm away.

“How can you waste your good fortune? How can you have everything other people would kill to have, and squander it like that? What an ungrateful idiot. People like him irritate me the most.”

Iwaizumi looks back over at the princes, finds Prince Tobio sitting back on the floor, grumbling to himself. Prince Shouyou purses his lips at him. He makes eye contact with Iwaizumi and raises his hands up in surrender.

Iwaizumi rises up, making his way to sit across from the heir, “Prince Tobio,” he starts. Prince Tobio does not look up from his glaring session with the floor. Iwaizumi licks his lips, “What did, what did Lord Kei mean by the King having gone mad?”

Prince Tobio drags his hand through his dark hair, “Father believes that a curse has been placed on the castle. Someone set fire to the orchards, and it consumed most of that part of the grounds. Yahaba escaped and the King swears the servants are to be blamed for all of this. He put the castle on lock down, no one can leave or come in. Even the visiting nobles are stuck there. He keeps writing to me, and the letters are becoming worse and worse. He wants me to come back, so that I can help him set a proper example.”

“That’s royal talk for he wants to execute a bunch of people,” Prince Shouyou explains helpfully.

“I know that, idiot!” Prince Tobio growls. He huffs, looking back at Iwaizumi, “I have never been good at talking to my father, I don’t think I’d be able to stop him. So the best I can do is...”

“Not go back?” Iwaizumi says, incredulously, “But that’s your home.”

“Is it?” Prince Tobio flares, anger still fresh from the recent argument, “I don’t know anymore. There’s nothing there for me.” He swallows, “Kindaichi made it very clear to me before I dismissed him in my anger. How everyone believes I’m just a selfish king to be, not fit to rule at all. Mother’s gone. Tooru never liked me, and now he’s gone too. Why would I go back to a place that doesn’t want me?”

Iwaizumi does not know what to say.

So he says nothing.

Prince Tobio grits his teeth.

Prince Shouyou lays a hand on his shoulder, “Just like I said before, you can stay here as long as you need, Kageyama! It’d be expensive to import so many meat buns if you stayed in Aoba Johsai anyway.”

Prince Tobio snaps at him, “Shut up!”

Prince Shouyou lets out a laugh, “Ho ho! You wanna go? I bet Tsukishima has a ton of meat buns in his kitchen. Who can eat the most first?”

“You’re on.” Prince Tobio agrees, standing up alongside the spritely redhead. But Iwaizumi grabs his forearm, making him pause.

“Aoba Johsai needs a leader, Prince Tobio” he says, carefully.

Prince Tobio squeezes his hands into fists, “I know,” he sighs, “But, I...I’m not ready for that. I need to...I need to figure a lot of things out,” he says, blue eyes glancing at the bright haired prince waiting for him with a hop in his step. Prince Tobio looks back at Iwaizumi, eyes steelier with resolve, “You believe Tooru’s out there right? I will help you, I will do anything to find my brother. To bring him back. To absolve myself of all of this,” he pulls free of Iwaizumi’s grip entirely, “We both know he’s the rightful heir to Aoba Johsai’s throne, whether father agrees to it or not.”

Iwaizumi watches him go with the foreign prince, shoulders relaxed even as he argues with him. And Iwaizumi wonders what magic lives in Karasuno castle, to mature the young prince so quickly in such little time. If it was equal parts the loss of his mother and brother, or if, maybe, it came from the burgeoning friendship with the Sun Prince, the child beloved by its Kingdom, rumored to be made of pure joyful light.

Iwaizumi thinks, then, it would not be so terrible for Prince Tobio to stay here.

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

“This is the dumbest idea we’ve had this whole journey,” Kyoutani huffs, keeping low to the ground.

“There’s not much we can do about it,” Iwaizumi sighs, nudging him forward.

“At least they both didn’t come,” Yahaba reminds.

“I could not spend another moment at Tsukishima’s manor. Don’t act like I’m useless,” Prince Tobio snaps back, crawling forward with a stern scowling face.

“If anything happens to him, you can blame it on me. It can just add to my tally,” Yahaba offers.

Kyoutani kicks him lightly, “Stop being a fucking martyr.”

“Stop fucking the mar-“ Yahaba teases back before receiving another angry kick.

“What are they talking about,” Prince Tobio asks, frowning.

Iwaizumi groans, “They’re beneath you sire, don’t pay them or he gross things they say, any mind.”

It only takes them a few days with the Princely escort to reach the Tri-Kingdom border. There they leave Prince Shouyou with their horses, sneaking into Fukurodani territory under the cover of darkness. Iwaizumi does not know how to feel about Prince Tobio’s insistence on his inclusion in this last part of the mission. Wonders if it truly is only about his dislike for the Karasuno Lord, or if it be from the amalgamation of guilt surely sinking through his system.

Iwaizumi decides not to question it. He is tired. The breeze is getting colder, heralding Winter’s coming arrival, and Iwaizumi longs to stop. To rest for more than a day. To go home.

But home is not a place, not really. Home is where Oikawa is, and he longs to be there again. So he trudges forward, desperately. Their destination so close now he can almost taste.

He can see it in the way the forest grows gloomier and darker, sees it in the coldness of his breath, feels it in the trepidation that gives him goose bumps along his neck. This darkness is not normal, its ethereal. He knows they must be close. He knows that Oikawa has to be here. Somewhere. Everywhere.

Part of him wishes to call out, to shout his name, to order him to stop this unnecessary hiding. To come back to him. But the other part knows that this is foolish. They can not be the only ones in these woods. Being found out now would be disastrous, especially by Fukurodani officials.

“Stay down!” Prince Tobio hisses, suddenly. In one quick move, he plucks an arrow from his back, drawing it upon his bow and firing it inches from Kyoutani’s head. The knight rears back, and inhuman squeal reverberates around them. Black talons retract from the fog, arrow still embedded into the scaly skin as it disappears.

Yahaba pulls Kyoutani back as the blond curses, “The fuck was that?”

“Are we already in the cursed forest?” Iwaizumi mutters, drawing his sword out and crouching low, keeping close to his companions.

Prince Tobio draws another arrow, blue eyes searching the grassy area around them for any hint of movement. He shivers suddenly, as if a coldness brushed against him and he swivels around. Iwaizumi ducks so as not to get hit by the waving arrow, “Watch it.”

Prince Tobio doesn’t reply, swiveling around and around. His calm precise motions becoming more erratic and panicked.

“Sire, are you alright?” Yahaba asks, stepping toward him, lowering his dagger.

“Shut up! Shut up!” Prince Tobio orders, but he’s not looking at Yahaba. He’s looking all over the place. He fires an arrow, it hits a tree, embedding in the bark uselessly.

His blue eyes are wide as they swivel back toward Iwaizumi, fingers trembling, “Make them stop!” He shouts.

Iwaizumi takes a step forward, and Prince Tobio fires his next arrow, scraping across his shin painfully, blood starting to drip down his legs. He lets out a pained hiss, hands coming down to clutch at the new wound.

He hears a voice in his head, are you alright?

Iwaizumi keeps his gaze on Prince Tobio’s shaking form. The boy has dropped his bow entirely, staring at the ground and mumbling to himself. Iwaizumi can’t help but think, in turn, I’m fine, but something is terribly wrong with Prince Tobio.

Iwaizumi shudders, eyes blinking into temporary blindness. There is only darkness around him and terror seizes. But it only for the briefes of moments, because one he blinks again, he can see. He feels winded. He shakes his head out of the coolness that had overtaken him.

Kyoutani is by his side, Yahaba stepping toward the panicking Prince with soothing words. But there’s something else. Iwaizumi tears his eyes away from the scene in favor to look around, because now that he can look away he can feel it. There’s someone else here, something else here. A dark, horrendous presence in the shadows, building up with dread.

And then Iwaizumi sees it, it’s hunkering mass growing, and he’s not sure how he could not see it before. It rises from the darkness of a tree, amassing itself in a plume of black smoke, right behind Prince Tobio. Skinny spindling talons coming down towards the boy, shaking on the ground, pulling at his own hair. Following the spindly arms up the shadow he can see a white, oval mask smiling at him.

He feels his legs stiffen up under him in terror.

How does Yahaba not see it? Or Kyoutani for that matter? Both keep their gaze locked on Prince Tobio’s panic attack, bodies unable to move from both fear and confusion. Iwaizumi tries to get his body to comply, fingers twitching to get to his sword at his side and ready it.

And then, suddenly, there is a fifth presence.

There is a whistle in the air, a sudden gust of wind that billows around them, a dark and foreboding aura encompassing them all, it’s force pushing away at the plumes of smoke. And suddenly a demon rises in their midst, shielding Prince Tobio’s crouching form from the growing darkness.

His wears a dark cloak, hood up. Sharp talons glint in the evening light. The wind pushes the hood back, revealing feral brown hair, and long spiraling horns. Yahaba lets out a shriek, as if revisited by a nightmare, and he backs away completely, grappling for Kyoutani’s arm to pull him back too.

The demon lets out an inhuman snarl, thin tail whipping out. The dark force seems to shrink back, and in that moment’s reprieve the demon bends down to pick the limp Prince up from the ground, shoving him into Iwaizumi’s arm.

It is then, and only then that he makes eye contact with him.

Brown eyes stare into green and Iwaizumi feels his knees about to buckle.

But there is no time for that, because the shadow lets out a sudden bellow. Oikawa doesn’t look back at it, keeps his gaze focused on Iwaizumi, then he lifts his arm and points.

Iwaizumi follows the motion toward the tree in question and knows what he needs to do.

[foralltherandomthoughts]

thank u for showing me how to love

i’ve been writing poetry inside my mind it finally bubbled over like a rising tied cause i’ve lost so many loves i think im hollow like an empty burbon broken bottle ive deserved the pain in a way never deserved the love it wasn’t inauthentic gave it all i had i thought that love lasts forever i wish i was wrong but im afraid im still holding on cause all these people came and shaped me and i learned so much about real intimacy see someone taught me that friends shouldn’t bear expectation that they should hold you when your sad embrace first without any question but they also showed me without passion you loose longevity cause what else would i have to bring you back when you feel distant you see someone taught me that love exceeds borders that i don’t need to live behind my wall my own self isolation see into your soul without even talking and fall in love quickly even if you can’t understand it taught me to meditate figure out how to balance that it’s okay we’re not perfect in fact that’s a positive they taught me that touch itself is a language and it’s okay to feel confident in your skin but they also showed me the other side when love turns and you feel grey inside a conflict cause the love itself never died like living in a distortion when you can’t tell the truth from lies someone taught me to never trust my heart never fantasize it i promise it isn’t beautiful like ancient art taught me that opening up ends in misunderstanding keep it simple keep it physical don’t ask too many questions and if they open up tomorrow act like it didn’t happen taught me that i can’t save anyone no matter how much i love them or see something there even if they try to cover it taught me how to make choices for myself even if that means i have to say goodbye a part me wishes you would’ve just tried someone taught taught me that love is special and it’s okay to find someone new and treasure your flames they took my hands and spoke hope with wisdom showed up for me when other’s didn’t reliable never quit till i pushed them away and still they showed me that love wouldn’t move even if i did taught me about compromise how that works it’s not about meeting in the middle it’s about both putting the other one first held on to me tightly till time split it all up showed me that love is amazing but it isn’t enough and someone showed me that love love is worth anything and love can be strong but just as precious and love is encouraging and breeds respect love makes time to mend past neglect it doesn’t spend time on mistakes but provides space for growth and makes intimacy easy and connection lasting like i know what your thinking by knowing what happened it’s adventurous and daring never taking short cuts and founding solid corners it’s touching the broken parts the one’s that hurt so that healing can come forth it’s sunflowers and butterflies it’s the thing that stops worry and makes you smile often and it let me find myself i don’t think i would run out of words i mean there were bad moments among all of the good but why focus on lies or abuse of the mind it’s poor judgment to focus on when a love used you or was careless with your heart it’s a casualty that’s worth it it’s part of the process falling out if live is as strong as it happening i wouldn’t trade any of my loves look at all that they’ve shown me each hold different memories i hold tenderness inside my heart for every single one each in different ways but somehow all in one and some stand out a little bit different some held more darkness more heartbreak or sadness some made me feel more valued or at their core were more honest i think one showed me the closest thing to true love that humans can get to and to them i owe a debt i could never own up or get to but i pray that they know no matter the day that even though my arms are vacant i work hard to be who they showed me i can be and missing people hurts like hell it’s heavy and restrictive thinking about how their body pressed perfectly into mine or how i still remember what their lips tasted like or the way their heartbeat harmonized in sync right with mine i know that everything will be okay even if it doesn’t feel that way right now sometimes it’s a matter or stopping reflecting instead of running and feeling the pain until the flashbacks that had you crying turn your mourning into smiling and you can be thankful and you can be glad because even though love can suck it’s not that bad