#lcfideas

[thistle-01]

demon and angels au with angel choi han and demon alberu, no one knows why the two aren’t flipped by nature one is perpetually smiling and soft spoken while the other glowers at everything. at every meeting alberu is “hello everyone, lovely meeting today,” while choi han just hides. there’s even a secret-not-so-secret petition to have them switch places for the day — just to try it you know? for efficiency’s sake — not that they do anything about it. they just go about their days, not caring, not bothering to correct people this is them this is their personality and they don’t intend to change it just for public opinion to turn in their favor. then comes the day a human wanders into their midst and suddenly choi han is springing flowers and cupids which circle around your head and sing love songs. and suddenly alberu can neither be seen or heard from anywhere he just appears a month later with a satisfied smile. cale: “uh…hi?” alberu, smiling: “i tied our souls together and you can’t escape me wherever you go or travel or leave. hello”

[thistle-01]

krs wakes to two wings, four legs, scales, and a tail. he isn't sure where to proceed from here, only that if he wishes to survive as he's always promised himself to, he'll have to adjust. and quickly.

- krs waking up as a dragon in a cave, he’s amber colored and large, filling up the space but with some left over so he isn’t cramped

- krs finding a human sized bed under his leg >> “oh that means there’s a human, maybe that human is me,” and krs learning to turn into human form which is red headed and good looking

- krs looking around the cave, making and breaking plans to ensure his survival in this new scenario

- krs finding an egg

- egg hatching

- “mama!”

- krs becoming brand new single daddy to a gray dragon with large brown eyes and a penchant for sticking to krs like a burr

- krs eventually leaving cave because food and resources

- krs learning to find his way through the forest sureounding the cave and eventually into a snow capped mountain where he meets a white dragon named sheritt

- sherrit and krs swapping kid stories

- sherrit showing krs her ickle baby eggs which haven’t hatched, showing off her ample nursery and hologram system for backup planning like a proud mom and secretly fretting and hoping krs approves because he seems like such an accomplished parent and she just wants to do right by her twin babies

- krs patting sherrit on the head and congratulating her and sherrit beaming like a radiant sun

- meanwhile krs’ baby daughter [insert name here] suckling on krs’ shirt because she’s teething and smiling with wet gums at the expectant baby mommy who coos and tells her she’s adorable

- krs feeding baby daughter with a bottle

- krs being official greatest mom/dad/parent in the world

- inevitably white star coming to destroy sherrit as per the original plot of tboah but krs putting two and two together and foiling his plans like a boss

- sherit and krs driving white star away

- not being a permanent fix to the problem but he’s dead for now so they at least have several decades of peace

- the red dragon hatching

- sherit making krs a godparent and krs making her his daughter’s and they hold a baby shower together and invite all dragons who have to swear not to kick up a fuss if they intend to attend

- only dragon showing up is eruhaben

- golden dragon attending for the snacks and free food and blinking at the kids from afar because wtf he doesn’t know how to handle children (yet)

- krs finding him in the corner and sighing before getting up on his aching legs, making sure his baby is ok before making his way over

- eruhaben and krs hitting it off

- sherrit in her corner spying on the two and keeping tabs on the kids and Making Plans

- after several play dates and lunches with eruhaben and sherrit and krs discussing that he seems trustworthy, cool, let’s make him a babysitter

- sherrit negotiating prices with gold dragon and inviting him over after telling krs they can have the day off and when he’s arrived disappearing with both the kids and a hologram note that tells the boys to have fun and make like a porn film, she’ll take care of the kids for the day

- krs and eruhaben keeping it PG but surprisingly enjoying the day they had together

- krs escorting eruhaben out and “I had a fun time, would you like to do this again?” and eruhaben (who’s young and kind of awkward at this point) looking away ears warm and nodding

- the kids rushing back in and swarming krs and sherrit on their heels looking exhausted but like she’s happy for him

- krs resolving to give her a day off of her own and following through

- babies taking their first steps and krs and sherrit going nuts with their magic cameras and eruhaben in the background fueling them with extra mana because they’re really going to town with their 3D motion pictures and holograms and everything

- krs’ baby daughter calling eruhaben “papa” for the first time

- krs and eruhaben falling in love and not much changing between them despite that

- raon hatching

- sherrit making a contest for names for raon and making it anonymous and krs popping the history of his past and winning the contest because he makes sherrit cry by saying he wouldn’t go back if he had the choice anyway, his family is them now, and ”demand to know which entry was yours” ”that defeats the purpose of it being anonymous” and “fuck purpose just hand it over.”

- sherrit being comfortable being alone while krs and eruhaben explore their relationship with each other

- raon and red dragon [insert name here] and krs’ baby daughter growing up as siblings

- // I had more planned including WS’ return and Choi Han and the original plot of the novel but I’m out of juice so I’ll end it here for now

[thistle-01]

cottagecore au but the setting is the sea, a quiet curve of the coast that few know of, and even fewer visit. there are several gulls, dipping and hanging out in tiny groups where the waves are shallow and fish lurk. they chase clams, other ocean prey, before flying back out again. the sun hangs low over the horizon. they sky is a mess, a blur of pinks, oranges and burning yellows. the purples are higher up, threatening to encroach. evening is approaching, and all is calm. even the waves seem to slow, slapping leisurely at the arms of the sand like they're brushing away the day. cleaning it blank. flat. back to where it was before morning.

kim rok soo lives in a coast like this. it's the very one, where his modest cabin sits, small but sturdy. it has low ceilings, thick clay walls. the rooves are thatched but that doesn't mean the rain leaks through. though he can't do much against the humidity of the sea. salt pervades the place, smelling of water. it's peaceful, a place he has for himself and his two cats. his brothers promised to visit with a new pet soon. last kim rok soo heard, it was a lizard. he just hopes it isn't a snake. he doesn't know how it would fare against on and hong. it would be a small miracle if they didn't eat it.

kim rok soo's days start the same. open the windows, open the blinds. he usually wakes with the sun, to see the sunrise is one of the quiet highlights of his day. he doesn't work. not out here, though he has his connection to the rest of the world via his trusty laptop.

after dawn it's breakfast and chores. he makes a simple meal, nothing heavy. some days it's a salad, some days a bowl of fruits. occasionally it's a dish with lean meats and or eggs laden on top, but he doesn't usually start with that. it's bad on his grumpy stomach. after breakfast it's dishes. they glisten brightly in the swamp of light. they dry out on the rack because he doesn't have a dishwasher. but as it's only him it's fine. he doesn't have many dishes to wash at any one time. then for chores:

"what are you doing. move your butt," he tells the kittens, sweeping with a broom around his small cabin. he brushes away the sand and small crabs skittering away with a scuttle. they'll probably be back in several hours.

[thistle-01]

All semblance of logic was blasted out of his head as Choi Han cupped his cheeks, holding him like he was something terribly fragile. He tilted his head, breathed. The soft exhale dusting the red lips mere hair’s width from his face.

“I’m going to kiss…kiss you now.”

Warmth exploded over Kim Rok Soo’s lips and it was such a shock that he forgot to close his eyes. He saw Choi Han’s tightly clenched ones, the red face. The nerves melting away to bliss from a simple chaste peck.

“…”

Kim Rok Soo recalled the summer of 2021, and how the star athlete, pride and joy of Roan High School fell in love with the laziest bookworm alive.

[thistle-01]

“On the one hand it’s a chef who can cook him whatever he wants whenever he wants—on the other a swordmaster who’ll fight all his enemies for him.”

- lsh and cjs weighing krs’ options from the afterlife

[thistle-01]

Cale being that doctor who’s so lazy that he kills off his patients but also talented enough to bring them back from death healthier than ever

[thistle-01]

Cale fills out the application to be a mail order bride half on a whim and half to earn himself more emergency money. He doesn’t expect anyone to answer - he made it very clear he’s a male and has zero interest to be anything but lazy and a househusband - but three weeks later he gets an envelope with his post that says he’s being summoned.

That he’s being summoned to some underwater mansion is another point of weirdness altogether. But it’s not like he has anything better to do.

[thistle-01]

There’s a new god in the pantheon. Cale wouldn’t bother getting to know him, but he’s a good deterrent for the other gods to stop haranguing him about playing with the humans. Fates knows he doesn’t need more of their attention.

(That hadn’t meant he wanted Choi Han’s attention. But one god is better than twenty, he supposes.)

Riverdrop

Chapter one - the pantheon

Cale stretches languidly from where he’s lounged. He’s in a pretty gazebo where the weather’s programmed to be perfect: sunny but with the occasional breeze that keeps it soothing. There are a couple flowers around, several plucked and already growing back. The servants had been idly making flower wreaths with them. What they intended to do with them he doesn’t know.

He supposes he can make them another flower field if they keep wanting to play with them.

He’s a generous god. There’s none like him.

He’s also incredibly shy and lazy, he thinks.

Two of his worst qualities are how he schemes constantly to avoid the other gods — and avoiding other gods. He isn’t shameful about it however.

Their quirks are their own — just look at the god of obsessive love.

“CALE-NIM, MY LOVE,”

In fact there is the god of obsessive love now, clambering elegantly toward Cale like a well balanced pony.

Cale immediately frowns, drawing up a barrier between him and the other god.

“—GRCK.”

Clopeh the god of obsessive love picks himself from the floor, grinning dazedly and like he’s been spritzed with an aphrodisiac.

“Please don’t make that face at me,” Cale says.

“YES, MY LOVE,”

“Why are you yelling?” Cale asks, looking skyward.

“I shall stop, my love,” Clopeh immediately replies in a crawling voice.

Sighing, Cale relieves the barrier, holding up a hand when the other god immediately inches toward him.

“This distance is fine,” he says.

“Alright…” Clopeh responds despondently though he quickly reverts to the worshipful tone that is his unfailing default whenever they’re together.

“Do you need something?”

“Of course not,” Clopeh gapes indignantly. “I am not those plebeians who demand time and effort of their god and doesn’t worship them without expectation or wishful thinking — I am purely devoted —“

Cale listens with half an ear as the god rants. He doesn’t stop him because, from experience, it would only devolve into an argument with him speaking and Clopeh nodding to everything just to do it all over again.

“— I love you and only you, my legend. My dream. My one and only deity of the stars…”

“Finished?” Clopeh nods reverently. “Good,” Cale nods back. “If you didn’t need anything what brings you to this part of the woods?” The guy was banned by several others of the pantheon for several more decades.

Obviously he has ways of sneaking in which Cale hasn’t figured out yet.

“There’s a new god in the pantheon!”

Cale sits up, “Oh?”

“God of despair, or something so tawdry and pitiful. Don’t worry yourself my love, I shall protect you from his unnecessary influence —“

Cale cages the guy in another barrier, standing from his spot in the gazebo.

He walks them both at a sedate pace toward the transportation gate.

“— not worthy of your beauty and incredibly blinding intellectual capacity —“

Cale punches the coordinates in the portal, “Please be quiet now.”

“Yes, my love!”

When they arrive in the pantheon most of the other gods are already gathered.

Cale walks over to some of them who are clumped in a conspiratorial circle, sending looks to a black haired, unfamiliar god standing in the corner.

When Cale briefly surveys them, they appear to radiate a dark, deeply sorrowful energy.

As expected of a god of despair, he thinks objectively before dropping it. He’s not really here for that after all.

“Afternoon everybody.”

“Cale!”

“Young master.”

“Ah, the eternal silver shield of the stars,” Fredo smiles at him, the other gods around them — all related to violence or bloodshed in some form or another — turning to face Cale as well.

Cale nods to the Molan duo and

[thistle-01]

Keywords: Female KRS, modern, bar date, misunderstandings

Text

“Just go on a date for me—“ Choi Jungsoo begs, “ one date, then I’ll leave you alone.”

“Negative,” Kim Roksoo replies.

“ C’mon,” Choi Jungsoo whines. Collapses in a heap by Kim Roksoo’s feet where she’s sitting in an armchair in the dorms’ most quiet reading room. They’re being borderline disruptive as it is. If Choi Jungsoo doesn’t shut up within the next sixty seconds she’ll throw him out. “It’ll be fun!” Probably, he murmurs. “It isn’t healthy to stay indoors all the time. Live a little.”

Kim Roksoo snaps her book shut, “I don’t appreciate you foisting your inability to decline people on me just to avoid the consequences.” She sighs. “After this you promise not to ask me again?”

“ —cross my heart and hope to die! Thank you, thank you thank you, thank you.”

I’ll send you location and time, I forgot their name so I can’t! Bye! Choi Jungsoo flees out the door just in time.

A cushion thumps into the door behind him — the other person, just one, looks at her with a concerned expression which she ignores — before falling to the floor.

Kim Roksoo drops her head into her palms, wondering why her only friends are like this.

The bell jingles over the door of the bar.

The bar, she thinks uncharitably, looking around with a dubious expression. Who meets on a first date in a bar?

Probably not someone with a good idea of personal boundaries, and Kim Roksoo slips out her phone just to recheck the name of the place Choi Jungsoo had texted to her two days ago.

Budded Glen, is printed inside a green bubble like a joke.

There’s a map with a pin in it, also in its own green bubble.

…Let’s just get this over with and go, Kim Roksoo pushes her phone back into her bag and approaches the bar.

For the evening she’s dressed in black. Black stockings, black dress, black eyeliner to visually relay how little she gives a shit about this. She agreed purely out of a visceral response to make sure her idiot friend has a face to save, but as soon as that’s accomplished she plans to be gone.

Swifter than the wind, would be appropriate, though looking around briefly the establishment isn’t complete trash.

She might actually come back one day in the distant future.

Maybe with said idiot friend, or the upperclassman who took her under his wing. Who’s known around campus as something of an idol and god given human form.

Internally snorting, she shifts course to the man in the corner who looked up at her entrance and never looked away.

“Hi,” she says, meeting eyes with a dazed puppy like face with fluffy black hair and broad shoulders attached to it, “Are you meeting someone here?”

“Y-yes,” the guy says. Blinks confusedly, “You… I think? Why are you meeting me? You’re beautiful.”

“Thanks?” Kim Roksoo watches the guy fumble, getting up awkwardly out of his booth before he visibly seems to realize there isn’t a chair to push in for her or whatever chauvinistic gentlemanly bullshit.

Huh, he’s kind of cute.

“My name is Kim Roksoo,” she settles in comfortably. “I’m sorry, you must be wondering what happened.”

“I mean, I want expecting this,” guy says, smile uncertain. It turns increasingly more happy and carefree. Which is nice. “Not complaining though. Definitely not… I’m Choi Han.”

“Choi Han?”

“That’s right… it’s nice to meet you, Roksoo-ssi.”

[thistle-01]

albecale with fem! cale for that king’s maker fusion au:

Kala Henituse is comfortable being the lazy first daughter, and second heir to her father’s county, while being expected to do absolutely nothing. She intends to keep it going, she wants nothing to do with the politics and all those things. But when a strange person in talismans and sheer clothing, startling dark eyes and a smile she recognizes as a farce saves her from certain doom, she resolves to suck it up and jump in head first.

It’s time to usurp a throne, people.

[thistle-01]

kim rok soo hasn't kept a relationship going for over a month in... years. it's just on schedule this time too. it's just unfortunate that it happens around holiday season.

he doesn't expect his pattern to break, habits are powerful after all. he doesn't expect three different men to enter into his life and shift it by the axis and spin it around 180 degrees either. but it happens. and surprisingly? he finds he doesn't mind terribly much.

there isn't anything to be sad about. couples break up. life happens. the sun rises in the east every morning.

so why does he feel so shitty, kim rok soo presses his palms deeper under his pits trying to warm them as he walks down the frigid street. it's winter. snow hasn't fallen yet but it should according to the weather reports. it doesn't matter. some people are excited at the prospect of a white christmas but kim rok soo just hopes it'll pass uneventfully. he's already had enough events in the days leading up to it, if he's honest.

"watch where you're going."

"sorry."

he enters his usual hideout with the ring of the bell. it's a convenience store close to his home. there's a dog that serves as its bonafide mascot, raon, who greets him by running up to him and hopping on his feet.

"sorry," kim rok soo says, bending to scoop the dog up in his arms and walking deeper into the store. "no apple pies today."

the dog woofs agreeably. if his black fluffy ears droop it's probably just a trick of the light. kim rok soo has never given him apple pies. it's bad for a dog's health but for some reason raon just likes to sniff them. so he usually brings one by or buys one at the store for him to frolick over but today he's just not feeling it.

"...that's a lot of bottles mister rok soo." the cashier is a slip of a girl named on. she and her brother are the kids of the couple who own the convenience store. kim rok soo should know. he arrested them for child abuse.

now emancipated, on and hong are doing well for themselves. it's not like kim rok soo is keeping tabs on them though. he isn't.

kim rok soo pulls out his wallet and levels the girl with an even look. "i'm an adult. i can drink."

it sounds petty. especially when the girl looks at him in doubt and exasperation and worry all rolled into one pouty expression but kim rok soo doesn't cave.

"...i'll just have the one bottle then."

"that'll be-" on rattles off the price with a satisfied nod. kim rok soo resents that she looks so pleased with herself.

the bell over the door jingles, drawing their attention and gazes to the entrance.

"mr. rok soo?"

hong scatters the chill clinging to his hair by ruffling it with one hand. he looks happy. happy to see kim rok soo, probably, the kid's never been quiet about how much he should visit.

preferably with food. "did you get dumped again?"

"hong!"

"what?" the boy blinks innocently. then he grins, the little shit. "it's not like we weren't expecting it. it's been a month. plus you weren't that invested in making it last either."

were you? the boy asks him and kim rok soo says nothing. he can't.

"you're not saying anything because it's true," the boy singsongs.

raon skitters across the tiled floor to nip at the boy's ankles causing him to yelp and his sister smacks him upside the head with a rolled up magazine causing him to yelp harder.

"watch the brain cells. he doesn't have many left," kim rok soo offers, doing nothing to stop them whatsoever.

he fields hong's accusing and puppy dog look with a smirk and pops the cap off of his soju bottle.

"i'm heading out. stay warm. call if you need anything."

"will do!"

"and let me know when you start interviews for that part time job opening. i know someone who can weed out the creeps."

the siblings and their dog look at him with affection shining so brightly kim rok soo can't even pretend he can't see it and chirps, "okay!"

kim rok soo makes his goodbyes and leaves.

the chill hits him like a truck to the face and he shivers, hunching in his woven scarf.

he walks home.

he's alone.

he's not lonely.

he isn't.

// wip but basically:

// lazy police consultant kim rok soo and on and hong and raon as his honorary adoptive children who run a convenience store.

// then love interests.

[thistle-01]

Summary: Choi Han is a slave in an underground fighting ring. Cale is his new owner who buys him.

Arena

Chapter one - the fighting ring

Smoke rafts up from each torch upon the wall, flooding the hall with the smell of it. Cale walks through the low arches made of brick, moss climbing up its moist walls and making him grimace.

He brushes his palms off at the exit, flicking his wrists to rid himself of the debris.

“Are we close?”

“Yes, your grace,” the man who leads him seems perpetually hunched over. Not out of a physical deformity but of a desire to please. He clutches his hand in the other and smiles simperingly under a half mask. “Just around the bend is the waiting box.”

“…lead on, then.”

“Sir,” the man begins walking once more.

As he’d said, the hall curves in a smooth angle which they follow sedately. There is no need to rush here, no surreptitious atmosphere.

It’s an underground ring — an underground fighting ring, operated by the wealthy and composed of slaves.

It also has the royal family’s implicit stamp of approval on it, making it one of the most invisibly protected sources of profit for the crown and its upper echelon.

Cale follows the man with an internal debate.

He’d heard about Mogoru’s fighting ring through the grapevine of a grapevine. It was all hushed up, lest the rising human rights’ movement catch wind of it and draw up in arms. For now though it’s well received among its patrons — noblemen and wealthy commoners both.

And it’s invitation only, Cale recalls, brief memory of his scamming an idiot nobleman out of his invitation by swapping a ticket to the most popular vocalist this side of the waters for it.

It had been ridiculously easy — Paseton had been more than happy to help, which led him here.

“Watch your step, sir — and here we are!”

Around the bend the low tunnel opens out to what looks like the beginnings of a closed colosseum. There are hundreds of chairs, several decorated boxes inlaid into a level above for the VIPs, ostensibly.

The seats spiral down into a depressed center, it is riddled with obstacles and twin iron gates leading down into the unknown: the Arena, a dream for the bored and unfortunately wealthy; a nightmare for the unwitting slaves wrongfully sold to what would one day be their demise.

Cale looks at all this and keeps his thoughts behind his teeth. Now isn’t the time to air his grievances. There will be time, though, at some point in the future.

He abhors slavery. Every aspect of it is crude and hideous and drenched in wrongfulness that it disgusts him to the bone.

Whatever, though, It isn’t his place to intervene.

(He will, though. By hook or by crook, he resolves to bring this entire place to its knees.)

Cale climbs the steps behind the attendant into a comfortable and lowly lit spectator’s box. There are a pair of chairs, cushioned with satin, and there’s a table with a series of panels in order to place bets with.

A servant stands in a shadowed corner, well in view of the forward facing chairs.

They are also masked, bowing when Cale and the man enters.

“This is where I leave you, your grace. Have you any concerns I may address before I depart?”

“That’s fine,” Cale denies. “Go away before I change my mind.”

“Most definitely, sir — if you do change your mind, however, Monica will ensure your wishes are met to the T. Monica?”

“Yes, my lord —“

The servant smiles above a strip of steel wrapped around their neck, and Cale spies the spikes glittering threateningly around the inner rim of it.

“Enough,” he says, mood destroyed instantly. “Leave me.”

“Your grace—“ the attendee smiles nervously and bows. He makes himself scarce.

With just the two of them remaining in the box, the servant — who is also wearing a half-faced mask as is Cale — approaches on silent steps before stopping.

“May I offer you some refreshments, lord?”

“You may be silent and sit down —“ he gestures to the second chair, kicking the other so it clatters away several feet though it remains upright.

He seats himself in the displaced chair, collapsing primly and resting his arms on the armrests. His head tilts until it’s cradled on the fist of one hand, and he doesn’t look away from the arena below.

After an uncertain silence the sound of a depressed seat cushion rings out, signaling that the servant has done as ordered and taken the other chair.

“…your grace?”

“I thought I told you to be quiet.”

“…yes, lord.”

The box falls into silence and from down below a microphone crackles into business.

“Ladies and gentlemen, far and wide — haha! Shall we forego the boring introduction, folks? We all know why we’re here, the annual Return of the Arena has arrived!”

The lower seating rungs, filled to the brim, roars in tacit approval.

“—haha! Place your bets, dear lords and ladies. The Fight shall shortly begin. In Five,

“Four,

“Three,

“Two—

“One. Let the Arena commence!”

From each end, the iron gates of the arena crank open, flooding the space instantly with a throng of armored men and women wearing those spiked collars.

It’s a melee, weapons flying in a no-holds-barred free-for-all.

Throughout the arena — seats included — shouts ring out as life after life is quenched or left with some permanent disability.

“Kill him — Kill him! Yeah!”

Cale watches everything with indifference; he hears the encouragement some small noble yells out from a seat directly adjacent to his box.

He’s indifferent to it all — down below, a man loses an arm, clothes ripped from his body as a sword is shoved between his legs.

He’s startled as a light touch envelops his closed fist. When he turns his head Monica is kneeling by the arm of his chair, urging his fingers from the length of the armrest.

“You’ll do damage unto yourself, lord…”

She looks up at him calmly. Meekness invades what little of her face Cale can see but she hides it some.

After a moment Cale uses the hand below here to gently rearrange his grip. He holds her hand delicately in his fingers and brings it up to his lips.

Her face is smiling.

Cale sees her breaths slowing.

“— touch me again and you will regret it.”

Monica freezes instantly. Her hand quivers shortly within Cale’s grip before her breaths return to their earlier rhythm.

He wonders if he would see relief if he removed that mask of hers.

But I don’t really care.

Cale releases her hand, resting his chin in his own and facing forward once more.

“Have I made myself clear?”

“…yes, lord.”

He doesn’t hear from her again throughout the first round of combat. They descend into a silence that suits him; whatever Monica may think is lost on him.

(Mostly.)

“Get ‘er! Get—! Oh, for fuck’s sake, you putrid little mule!”

Throughout the audience sounds of laughter, regret, and riveted interest ring out. There’s nothing more fascinating to them than the sight of the slaves reducing one another to bits, apparently.

By the end of it only two slaves are standing. One a woman, by the look of her breasts bound tightly to her chest, the other a man.

It’s the man who falls to his knees first. He looks up at his opponent from where he’s fallen.

He reaches out a hand. Appears to say something.

The woman lifts an arm which holds a battle axe and sends it swinging.

“Tch.”

The headless body flops uselessly on the bed of sand and streaks of crimson.

The remaining woman lifts her arms in the air to the shouts of her audience.

Cale imagines he can see tears trailing down before her half mask.

Cale sees the respect she pays to her fallen opponent just before she leaves through the open iron gate, if not that.

Pandemonium, is what he calls this farce of a stadium that the wealthy and privileged appear to be forging themselves on.

He smirks to himself without emotion — without bitterness or hate — and to the side the servant in the room stiffens.

“…fetch me a glass of brandy. Now.”

“Right away, lord!”

Cale listens to the sound of fluid hitting a glass of ice and rising beverage, and braces himself for the next stage.

-

-

-

“—Choi Han! Choi Han, don’t do this!”

“…I have to.”

He couldn’t take this anymore.

-

-

-

Stage two was a tournament

[thistle-01]

Cale Henituse falling in a vat of toxic waste and developing super powers, and the APs getting jealous.

[thistle-01]

Want not, waste not.

Cale Henituse being so accustomed to repressing his desires for the sake of survival that he doesn’t even notice he’s fallen for his swordmaster until he’s shoved against a wall and kissed within an inch of his life.

[thistle-01]

guardians of the galaxy as cale henituse’s ancient powers

[thistle-01]

keywords: albecale modern au, meet on the morning subway train

“hm?” he bumped into someone. “oh. sorry—“

“that’s alright,” the guy turned his head slightly. “the train is pretty crowded.”

“unfortunately yes,” alberu smiled. red eyes looked at him from under a pair of red brows which cocked up unevenly, “gotta love rush hour, no?”

“you have a strange sense of love,” with that the guy threw him a distracted smile before facing forward again. he reached into his back pocket, bringing his hand very — extremely — close to alberu’s crotch, but thankfully avoided actually making contact. inevitably, because they really were pressed pretty close and the train was dreadfully crowded as always, alberu got a good glimpse of two kids in the phone the guy pulled out. there was also a black snickerdoodle.

“you have kids?”

“i have three,” the guy replied, eyes flicking toward him briefly. “are you married?”

“dreadfully single, i’m afraid.”

“what’s dreadful about it? i enjoy the free time,”

the guy then pulled out a set of ear buds, plugging them into his ears, therefore ending the conversation. alberu watched him for a moment, admired his handsome silhouette for a moment as well, before he turned to look out the window at the passing landscape. it would be several more minutes before he arrived at his station and he passed those while listening to soft jazz he could hear lightly filtering through the guy’s ear buds and watching the hills go by. the sky was overcast but there wasn’t rain.

“ilsan. the next stop is ilsan station. ilsan.”

“i’m getting off at the next stop,” he warned, tapping a broad shoulder.

the guy looked back, “so am i, don’t worry,”

alberu smiled which the guy returned. they pulled into the station and were almost shoved out by the pile of busy commuters flooding out behind them as well.

“have a good one,” the guy said — or at least alberu believed he did — before they got separated, swept away by the crowd. alberu managed a wave, which he may or may not have seen. he stepped quickly through the station, doing his best to avoid being jostled.