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aidemint · 4 years

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𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐨 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐩 - 𝐒𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐨

Word Count: 2700

Warnings: None!

There was always a boy with peach-colored hair that I would see in the village.

From the confines of my house, I would stare out the window and watch him meander about the streets of the city. He would always be clad in patterned robes with a mask strapped to his head, and a sword tied to his belt. I always wondered what it was for. Perhaps he was a samurai, like the ones I'd read about in the old storybooks, though he didn't quite look the part.

But one could dream.

As time passed, and the world grew older, I noticed that he was now accompanied by a smaller girl with jet-black locks. They would run together and weave through crowds without a care in the world. She looked younger, and wore an outfit with a similar design as his. A younger sister, I reckoned.

The more that I observed them, the more I would feel a certain emptiness inside my chest. I would get lost in my own thoughts more often, pointlessly staring at my hands as I curled and uncurled my fingers, watching pieces of my butterfly skin flake off and settle on the cuffs of my kimono.

It stung, but my heart ached even more.

I'd always wanted someone to keep me company.

It was a nice thought, something that provoked my imagination.

It helped me cope.

My condition was rare.

Though I was a whole being, I was forever cursed to live a wretched life filled with nothing but pain and agony. My skin would come off at the slightest movement or touch, which made washing myself or getting anywhere an extremely tedious task. And if the gods hadn't bound me to my hermit life enough, I had eyes that were not capable of rendering large amounts of light, which meant that I couldn't go out during the day if I didn't want to blind myself.

And I didn't want to lose my sense of sight, as it would mean no longer being able to see the peach-haired boy and his sister. So there was no other option for me. The day was detremental, and the night posed too many risks, with unimaginable monsters lurking around, so I had no choice but to remain as I was -- alone and weak.

I could only sit and watch the world pass by from the confines of my room, where I was forever trapped, cursed to my prison. As I had delicate skin and soft eyes that could not take in light, my flaws rendered me useless, and therefore I had to pay reparations to the world by staying inside.

There were many people that believed that I did something sinister in my past life, and that was the reason why I had so many imperfections now. In this age, it was commonplace to believe such a thing. I understood why they could even mention something as terrible as this, but couldn't help but feel sad at the thought.

Matters became even worse once my family got word of the rumor. Being especially spiritual, they immediately suspected me and made it their priority to discard the person that would bring bad omens into their family. They promptly left me with half of their savings and their old house, and moved away to somewhere else.

I tended to my belongings quite well and always cherished the little bits of home with gratitude, but I always missed them, despite never truly knowing who they were and what they looked like.

I hoped that they were well, without me.

But even though my family left, the rumor still remained, however, forever haunting me and my very existence. Speculations only grew as the years went by. The townspeople had somehow reached the conclusion that I had been cursed because my past life had not lived their existence justly.

Sometimes I would sit and wonder about it.

Was it really my fault?

Why did the gods condemn me so?

Had I really committed such a cardinal sin?

If I did, I think would've remembered it.

Most days were spent making woven goods that I sold to the townspeople in exchange for groceries and such things. On the mornings that the peach-haired boy came to town, I would wait for him by my window and patiently stare into the open until he came. He and his little sister would walk around the town, sometimes getting groceries, sometimes not. They looked happy when they were together outside, enjoying the many wonders of a fulfilled life.

How I longed to live like them.

But I wasn't truly in a position to complain, as there'd always be one person to stop by my house every once in a while.

Urokodaki always came to pay me a visit, which was nice. He would bring me miso soup and small bits of dried seaweed in exchange for woven baskets. Every month, he would even stay and tell me about his travels and tales from his life -- glimpses into the outside world that I never got to experience for myself.

And perhaps it was because he was so near and dear to me that I always drank the soup with fervor, making sure not to waste even the slightest drop. I hoped that if I appreciated it enough that it would never stop coming. I never wanted the stories to cease.

That bowl of miso soup was the only light of my life that my heart could hold without stopping.

I could never thank Urokodaki enough, even for such a small bowl of soup, but he seemed to be the gift that kept on giving.

One day he brought the peach-haired boy along.

When I opened to door to let the elder in, I gasped upon seeing him with the boy I'd watched for so long. Immediately starting to worry that the place was unfit for him to see, or that I looked too unruly, I accidentally strained my skin too much and tore a new gash into my shoulder. Wincing and biting back a cry, I tried to mask the pain, but relented as Urokodaki gently took my hand and led me inside so that he could bandage me.

At that moment, I knew that I would be unable to face the boy for the rest of the day. It was foolish of me to have hoped that another would be able to understand. Why should he try to understand? I was the town's hermit, a monster among the children, and a symbol of strife among the grown.

No words were exchanged that afternoon. We all just sat and ate, and after we had eaten, Urokodaki and the peach-haired boy departed. I cast no farewell gesture to the pair, only giving a small, sad smile to the elder has he exited my house.

Days passed and life went on in accordance to the usual schedule. It was boring, but served as a reassurance that nothing out of the ordinary would happen after that encounter with Urokodaki's student. But even if I was happy that my life was the same, I couldn't help but feel disappointed at myself. Subconsciously touching the bandage on my shoulder, I sighed while imagining what my life could have amounted to if I got to know the boy I'd been admiring for such a long time.

Cursing at myself, I angrily started to thread the reeds to a chair covering, fueled by the utter shame and regret in not jumping at the opportunity to know someone new. In doing so, I hadn't realized that someone was knocking on the door. The sounds from outside continued for a few minutes before I realized that they were there. Needless to say, I was particularly surprised. Urokodaki never came this early, and an unexpected visitor wasn't very common. Despite how unconventional a stranger was, they were always welcome.

I slowly got up to open the door and once I had unlocked it, I was met with an unanticipated face.

It was the peach-haired boy.

My eyes widened in shock, completely dumbfounded as to why he would come again. Had I not scared him off last time? I simply watched him as he awkwardly waited for a response from me. When I kept staring, he cleared his throat and decided to break the silence.

"Uh," he spoke, "Is it alright if I come in?" I blinked and immediately nodded slightly, moving as fast as I could to the side in order to let him in. He looked at my figure with a concerned expression while I shuffled to close the door behind him. It looked like he wanted to say something about it, but he refrained from it and moved to another topic.

"Is your wound doing alright?" he asked, matching my pace as we walked towards the table set in the middle of the closest room. I smiled at his consideration and felt a sudden tug at my heartstrings.

"Yeah, it doesn't hurt, so don't worry too much about it," I lied, "Besides, I get them all the time. I'm used to it." Despite this, the boy didn't look too assured, but chose not to press on.

When we got settled, he brought out the miso soup from his bag and set it on the table, along with two spoons and a small container of dried seaweed. I looked at the dish, anticipating it, but somehow, something didn't feel right. It felt like a stone had settled itself into my chest, weighing my insides down and putting my appetite to rest. Setting down my spoon, I gazed into the yellow-ish liquid and hesitated. This drew the attention of the pink-haired boy.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, wearing a small frown, "Have I done something wrong?" I shook my head gently, sighing and swallowing the dread that pooled in the pits of my stomach. There was one thing I needed to question him about. His response didn't matter, after everything I'd been through, but I needed closure.

"What do you think of me?"

The peach-haired boy looked confused.

"What do you mean?"

"After being in the village for some time, I imagine that you know what the people say about me." He went silent.

I had all the time in the world, so I waited. The boy seemed lost in thought, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, his breath steady and lips pouted, in perhaps perfecting a reply that was sweet enough for my ears.

When five minutes went by, I asked him another, simpler, question in case he couldn't comprehend my comment about the village.

"You do know what tall tales about me the children tell each other, right?" He nodded. I maintained a small smile through the query, though my eyes got darker with every proceeding question.

"What are they?" I'd already recognized that he knew I was aware of the rumors. The peach-haired boy paused before answering in a soft tone.

"They say that you're cursed. They think that you're a monster." I hummed and returned to the main topic at hand after his reply. The words stung, but after the countless tears that had been shed over time, I learned to take them.

"So do you think the same?" I inquired, "Am I a monster, with my butterfly skin and delicate eyes? With my scars and-"

"I think you're beautiful."

Stopping, I locked gazes with him and stared in skepticism.

Are you mad? I wanted to shout, Is this some kind of sick joke? A fetish, maybe?

However, I withheld myself and stammered more questions.

"Why did you take such a long time in the beginning?" The peach-haired boy looked away, a rosy coloration dusting his cheeks.

"I didn't know if you would believe me or not." The tenseness in the atmosphere relieved itself at that moment. I began to feel my throat conjure weird bubbles and my shoulders start to hunch up. A chuckle burst out of my mouth unexpectedly, and louder ones followed after. My vision blurred as tears started to leak out of my eyes and spill onto the sides of my face. The peach-haired boy looked starstruck, watching me laugh.

Once I had finished, I looked at him, gingerly wiping the water droplets off of my cheeks and chin, my irises clear and sparkling.

"Then that settles it," I said, hiccupping, "That settles it." The corners of my mouth remained upturned as I picked my spoon back up and mixed the soup so that it clouded up again. Taking a sip, I grinned as the liquid ran smoothly down my throat and sent shivers up my spine.

It was still warm.

After a few more meetings over the course of two weeks, I didn't see Sabito again for the next three months. It was disheartening, to say the least. Though I would always wait by the window in anticipation, he never showed up with the girl. Instead, there was a long-locked black-haired boy, clad in similar patterned robes as he. His eyes appeared as blue as the sky in a cloudless afternoon, and his jaw was angled finely. Guessing that the stranger was a replacement market-boy, I started to worry.

Has something bad happened to Sabito?

When the thought would surface, I simply shook it off, convincing myself again and again that the peach-haired boy was well. Urokodaki frequently updated me with messages via crow, that Sabito was training, and nothing else. This served as a reassuring factor to quell my anxiety through the days in which I felt especially lonely.

Unfortunately, it just so happened to be one of those hours. Currently, I was in a spell of panic.

What if he never came back? What if he perished?

Merely thinking about it made my blood run cold and my fingers numb. I wouldn't even know how to react if that happened. The only thing I could do was hope that Sabito was alright. I felt helpless, defenseless, utterly hopeless.

In my fit, I hadn't realized that there was a knock at the door. It took me a couple minutes to fully register what was going on.

Was this deja vu?

Getting up from my position on my seat, I moved quickly to the door, unlocked it, and was immediately met with an unfathomable sight.

Breathlessly, I began to cry. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks with haste, landing delicately on my robes. My hands were clasped over the smile upon my features, catching the gentle sobs I let out.

There Sabito stood, with longer hair and a small sack in his hand. He grinned, his lavender eyes crinkling as he did. I could see my reflection in his glossy irises.

"Master said it was my turn to bring the miso soup again." I laughed and tried to run towards him, but only managed a meager shuffle.

"Sabito!" I cried, my arms outstretched. He caught me in his embrace, gripping onto my robes as hard as he could without risking any injury being made to my skin. Squeezing my eyes shut, I took in his scent, his being, his presence with as much attention as I could muster.

"I missed you," he whispered, voice cracking, "So much." I sobbed, my chest filling with nothing but endless adoration. Eventually separating, I fluttered my eyelids open and gazed into his wisteria eyes, then kissed him. My heart jumped at the sensation. With fingers gingerly combing through his hair, feeling his soft locks and getting tangled in the new length, I basked in his presence and familiar scent. He kissed back with the same fervor, gripping my waist with his gossamer hands, sending me into paradise.

When we broke away, I couldn't help but smile at his dopey expression.

"Can I come in?" he murmured, placing a peck on my forehead. His voice was irresistibly smooth, like silk flowing in the wind -- undulating and perfectly formed. Giggling as he kissed my lips once more, I couldn't ignore how much I loved him and his being.

So of course, I let him in.

#miso soup #oneshot #imagine #sabito #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #xreader #reader insert #i miss you sabito

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nuray-ffxiv · 5 years

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LFRP- Crystal - Ayşe Nuray

BASICS.

full name: Ayşe Nuray

pronunciation: [ ai-sha nur-ay ]

nicknames: Ays [ ice ]

race: Miqote - Mixed: Keeper & Seeker

gender: Female

sexuality: Pansexual, panromantic.

height: 4′9

age: Mid-twenties

birthday: 13th Sun of the 2nd Umbral Moon

zodiac: Nymeia [ Aries ]

languages: Common, Eorzean sign language, and Ayla’sebnem, the name and language of her clan (Derived from Turkish & Arabic).

[ Ayse can understand all language spoken or written due to possessing a variation of the Echo, but she cannot inherently speak or write them all. ]

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.

hair colour: Light grey.

eye colour: Silver, with slitted pupils.

skin tone: Warm Ivory

body type: Slender hourglass

accent: The occasional rolled/purred ‘r’, though only when she’s distracted.

dominant hand: Left

posture: Good posture, often relaxed but rarely slouched, unless at her desk. She can often be found hunched over her desk for worrying amounts of time.

scars: Little ones here and there from her travels. Two symmetrically on each side of her face. Once, whip scars could be found on the back of her legs and shoulders, but they’ve long been removed.

tattoos/markings: White markings on her face, hands, ribs, chest, and thighs. Some are curving lines, and others are circular. A black underline on her lower lashline.

most noticeable features: The white markings on her face, alongside the symmetrical scars.

CHILDHOOD.

place of birth: Abalathia's spine

hometown: Abalathia's spine, with the Ayla’Sebnem clan. [ Ayla’sebnem means Moonlight Dew. ]

birth weight/height: Smaller than average

manner of birth: Delivered by clan healers, born right after her twin sister. Both born healthy, if small.

first words: “Ma!”

siblings: Azmi Nuray, twin sister, missing. Cemre’a Nuray, older brother, alive.

parents: Cemre Nuray & an unknown seeker male. an unplanned pregnancy from a tryst, but one her mother was more than happy with as she returned to her clan grounds, alongside her mate and Cemre’a’s father. Her mother is currently missing.

parental involvement: high involvement from her mother’s side, as a single mother within a very loving clan, at least until the scourge that found nearly all of them enslaved. It has only been recently that Ayse discovered her father’s tribe, since it’s burgeoning connections to her clan.

ADULT LIFE.

occupation: Clan archivist and healer.

current residence: The Ayla’Sebnem clan grounds.

close friends: Simi and Basim’a Jinkjahl.

relationship status: Single, polyamorous.

financial status: Moderately wealthy.

vices: The occasional recreational drug. Does not drink.

SEX & ROMANCE.

sexual orientation: Pansexual.

romantic orientation: Panromantic.

preferred emotional role: submissive | dominant | switch | unsure

preferred sexual role: submissive | dominant | switch | sex repulsed [ Ayse is very open to love - and loving - in all of its many forms, and will often defer to whatever position her partner is most comfortable with. ]

turn on’s: Wittiness, compassion, like-minded interests, boldness, physical intimacy, and certain voices.

turn off’s: Ignorance, cruelty, superiority, laziness, unprovoked rudeness, unsanitary/unclean appearances.

love language: Ayse is complimentary to most everyone she meets, but when true feelings begin to develop, this becomes more physical. The desire to be close, touching even if it’s simply innocent grazes or hand-holding, becomes far more prevalent.

relationship tendencies: While an unrepentant flirt, Ayse enters into relationships slowly. The archivist likes to take her time, and fully court potential romantic interests before entering into anything serious. Plentiful dates and time spent getting to know one another, and for the Miqo’te to truly gauge the person’s intent. She is remarkably cautious, for one so coquettish.

MISCELLANEOUS.

hobbies to pass the time: Research, research, research. Ayse loves her job, and there is always something to do - Be it a relic to study or a ruin to excavate or clan history to peruse, Ayse affords herself little down time because she enjoys what she does so deeply. Often, it can take the combined force of others to make her take a break and really relax, in which case she will find people to socialize with.

mental illnesses: Has some remnants of post-traumatic stress disorder due to her past, and very rarely will be triggered into a panic attack. She is very good at avoiding her triggers, but they can occasionally blindside her.

physical illnesses: None to speak of, though she has a sensitivity to bright light, and hates being surprised by touch.

left or right brained: Left.

fears: Ayse deeply fears she will never find her mother and sister again, no matter that she hasn’t given up. Following that, she fears losing the family she has since regained since escaping slavery herself, as well as being enslaved once more.

self-confidence level: Overall quite healthy, with the exception being during and after a panic attack, where it dips quite severely.

vulnerabilities: Moodiness, tendency to run herself ragged, occasional melancholy, and the penchant to use flirtation as a shield.

HOOKS

She’s the shimmer on the water, in a river of moonlight.

Ayse is very attuned with the elements of water and ice, and uses both in healing practices for those inside of her clan and out. She would take no issue with aiding a passerby if they seemed wounded, though is also not above using the talent for trade when it comes to information.

Injured PCs looking for help without judgement, or else those looking to barter information for occasional medical services would find a good companion in her.

Your eyes are hollow, your heart is shallow, and your words mean nothing to me.

There are very, very few things on Hydaelyn that Ayse hates more than slavers, and the practice of human(oid) trafficking. There are no lengths the woman will not go to stifle the abhorrent practice, and as an ex-slave she is honour-bound to try and free any and all slaves she comes in contact with.

Any runaway or current slave PCs looking for help to free themselves would find a wonderful ally in her, and all slaver PCs a chilling enemy. There is no shade of grey in this to her.

She had a mischevious smile, a curious heart, and an affinity for running wild.

An archivist for the Ayla’sebnem, Ayse has an interest in nearly all historic sights and artifacts. She records any that may be related to her clan, or even general Keeper heritage, but she is fascinated by ruins and tales of all lands and cultures. This is in part due to having the Echo, which manifests in visions of the past when she comes into contact with highly spiritual artifacts, or places.

It is not uncommon to stumble upon the Miqo’te wandering ruins, or meditating within them. Adventurous types could very well happen upon her by chance, or she them.

Her revenge was silent, as growth cannot be heard.

A pacifist by choice, the historian will do whatever it takes to avoid harming another soul ( exception: slavers ) and will use her talents with magic to stop an attack, render her opponent unconscious, or try to bind them so she can escape. This was not always the case, however.

In her youth, the Keeper-Seeker mix was quite fond of duelling with a crystalline rapier. On occasion, Ayse can be found staring a bit wistfully at such weapons, and would not decline the chance for some friendly duelling partners.

LOOKING FOR

On a character level, I am looking for all sorts of different interactions for Ayse, be they friendly or antagonistic. People that may have met her during her time as a slave, or else people who are just meeting her now. Friendships and rivalries are both welcome, though I am very hesitant on romantic relations, and will require much IC and OOC communication before committing to a romantic ship. I’m open to scenes with violence, matures themes, gore, etc...

On an OOC level, I am looking for people who know the difference between IC and OOC. I do not tolerate blending, metagaming, or godmodding. Open communication is very important for me, especially if our characters are going to obtain a relationship of any kind of depth.

If you’re interested, you can contact me here, or in-game on Ayse Nuray or Rhysa Verkoh (main). I can give out my discord on request as well! ♥

@crystalxivrp

#Ayse Nuray #LFRP #crystal data center #balmung #Miqo'te

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bearofohu · 5 years

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Luke Triton and the Lycan Curse - Prologue

PROLOGUE - The Moon Rises

Plot Summary: After leaving Britain, Luke finds himself stuck in a hermit town in rural America, surrounded by dense forests. Life seems to get worse as his father grows distant. Luke learns of the Lycan Curse, an ancient disease that turns men to savage beasts. Driven by a desire to prove himself, Luke sets off to discover the truth, only to end up with a festering bite wound, and a mystery he cannot solve without Professor Hershel Layton, and companions from his past.

Chapter Summary: Taking place mid-story, the prologue shines a light on an event that is not shown otherwise, the murder of the Prime Minister Bill Hawks at the claws of a savage, silver-furred lycan with blue eyes.

Rating: T+ (swearing, heavy gore, drugs, illness, murder, vomiting, animal horror, descriptive body horror)

Word Count: 5,073

Alt Links: fanfiction.net

A/N: Okay, so, I decided I really wanna try writing again. This time, I’m going to try to commit to a series. To be completely honest, I kind of hate the LMJ - LMDA story arc, and since the anime is ending, I’ve decided I’m going to write my own take on the events after Unwound Future. This is my own AU, alternative canon thing that is from Luke’s perspective. It’s about werewolves, corrupt politicians, Layton and Luke being father/son, crying, and blood. I also wrote a Werewolf Luke fanfiction when I was eleven, and I always thought if I was in charge of the Layton series, I’d write a story/game like this. Please enjoy and lemme know your thoughts! Hopefully, I can commit to this!

Don’t fight me.

Luke crouched, his chest heaving in a desperate effort to breathe. His knuckles were growing a strained white as he gripped them against the door of the vehicle he was taking refuge behind. Cold sweat was profusely dripping down from his forehead, and he twitched in agony as he observed the scene before him that he remained concealed from.

His vivid blue eyes could see the scene from miles away. The man in the dark trench-coat, the ever-familiar top-hat, the silk shining like some kind of beacon in the darkness. The sight of the man used to bring him a strong sense of stability, and seeing him there had always calmed his childish fits of rage down.

But that felt like centuries ago. He was not the boy he once was. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t even sure if he could be considered a boy at all… not anymore. Another twitched seized Luke’s body, and a snarl audible only to his sickened mind sounded in his pounding ears.

Don’t ignore me, pup. I will not go away.

Luke squeezed his eyes shut, and shivered with cold. The voice made his ears begin to be heightened enough to catch the confrontation happened before him.

“You cannot do this, Mr. Hawks.” The man in the top-hat said evenly, holding up a careful hand. In spite of the man’s even, experienced and strong voice, Luke could scent anxiety, nerves and worry all over him. He wondered vaguely if that scent had always been on him during their adventures, but Luke could only detect it now. As a boy, he was blind to how this man felt. He was an expert at staying calm, hiding his true emotions. After witnessing his farewell to his mate… Claire, he changed. Luke always viewed him as the greatest mystery of all, his unreadable mentor, a truly stoic man. But now, he was an open book of anxiety and sorrow. Was it Luke’s powerful canid senses, or was this truly how he had become?

Say his name, Luke begged himself, in the safety of his own mind. Hershel Layton. My mentor. He’s my friend. You remember, right? I remember him, I do...

Another hallucinogenic snarl invaded his brain, It’s worthless to you now, runt! You know what you must do.

Luke’s hand found his hair, and the teenager clawed at it with all his strength, tearing several chunks violently outwards, and a choked sob of agonized mental pain leaving him as he practically grovelled into the earth. He just then recognized his aching, twitching muscle pains were beginning to turn, from vague flicks in his skin, to a contorting mess of muscles exceeding their regular size. A coat of thick hair was crawling up both arms like a fungus.

Give into the hunt. It is all you know now.

Another man, standing just a few yards from Layton, suddenly stepped forwards with a sneer. His disgusting scent of disdain and greed was like poison in Luke’s nostrils. As the older man stepped into the moonlight glistening in the rainy sky, a contorted snarl, barely audible yet not at all human, involuntarily left Luke’s mouth. His teeth were in absolute agony, and there was something wrong with his jaw…

“I can do whatever I wish, Layton.” Hawks scoffed, seeming to parade himself with his assured superiority in front of the hopeless citizens of the town, his own hitmen… everyone gathered. “By order of the British Parliament treasury, this American town is now my executive property. We will uncover the secrets here, and contain them, by all means necessary. That means the people of this accursed town,” he gestured to the people, all whom in another life, another world, Luke had lived among in some way, “are now under arrest. We will take any medical examination needed to uproot this curse… including your apprentice.”

The townsfolk began to cluster together as a few men, armed to the teeth began herding them into a knot… like sheep. With just a single gesture of Hawks’ hand.

Layton opened his mouth to speak, but from behind him, a woman in a yellow shirt was flailing and jerking against the might of three men holding her down into the mud. Clearly, the task of detaining her was proving laborious. The woman was fierce, and her scent showed a passionate protective aura. Luke would have recognized her… but not now. Now, he watched the scene while his body contorted and changed, the pain so great, yet so familiar, it was dulling in his mind that was slipping with every millisecond.

“You FUCKING coward!” The woman howled, her voice high-pitched with rage, “You’re a piece of SHIT! DO something, Chelmey!”

A broad-shouldered man standing beside Layton looked at the woman with eyes that were wide, ashamed, and panicked. His scent was riddled with confliction. Luke knew that in his humanity, he knew this man. He was a friend, he was a man of authority… but he was bound by the evil man’s toxic authority.

“Emmy,” Layton rasped, holding up a hand to her. “It’s alright.”

Emmy snarled at him, “HOW could you SAY THAT? This clowny fuck is going to torture all these innocent people! You know that, Professor! YOU know that, Chelmey! I--” Before the woman could finish, a man took a baton and shoved her into the mud face-first. Luke tensed up on his haunches as a sense of rage gripped him. Her body wracked against the hitman who had hit her, before she abruptly surged upwards from the mud, knocking him in the face with the back of her head and muddy brown hair. He staggered backwards.

Emmy looked at Layton once more, and her voice was uncharacteristically thick, eyes glistened, as she cried, “Think of Luke, Professor! They’re going to kill him!”

Layton looked at her, genuine pain on his face. His body was trembling, and his fear scent was all over Luke’s nostrils. Luke’s body tensed upwards once more, and a snarl left him. He was prepared. He was ready to hunt… he knew his targets.

Wait for your weakness to melt away. The canid voice rumbled, and then, leap into the flock, and claim those you wish to hunt.

Another terrifying clap of thunder struck the sky, and Luke’s muscles seized. He bared something that were very clearly not omnivorous teeth. His mouth, which no longer felt attached to his face, was salivating onto the mud. He felt a presence on his tailbone, and a ragged, matty tail that had previously not existed curled around his contorting form. The blood from his torn skin and ligaments were staining and splattering onto the clothes that had been rendered from his body, which no longer had an inch of bare skin left. The pain was familiar. The blood loss could not kill him. It was all apart of him, now. It was his gift.

Hawks then smiled at Layton, showing pearly, flat teeth, “Your assistant is delusional in her anger. I only wish to care for these diseased people. The ferry is ready to detain the citizens here, and bring them to our medical examiners. Chelmey, is Scotland Yard ready for their escort?” The man’s eyes landed expectantly on the face of the police inspector.

Chelmey hung his head. “I-I… Yes…”

“Coward!” The woman, Emmy, spat out a chunk of blood as she spoke. Her eyes were trained back on her boss, the top-hat man, “Professor! HERSHEL!”

Layton was breathing a bit laboriously. “Prime Minister, please…” He murmured, taking a step forwards, “let me find a solution. Give me a few more days... I--” the man suddenly narrowed his brown eyes, “if you do this, you will not get away with it like you have…” his voice broke, “previously.”

Hawks smiled broadly at Layton. “It worked before, Professor.” He sneered, his voice nearly a taunting whisper, “who is to say it won’t work now?”

“I’m not giving up on these people,” Layton breathed, adjusting his hat. “They are innocent. If you take them away now, I’ll-”

“Right.” Hawks chuckled, “You’ll go and play detective, and then when I drop your apprentice’s wolfy corpse at your doorstep, we’ll be just a step away to stick a bullet in your brain before you even get a chance to recognize who he is.”

Luke knew what was happening, his mind was screaming to leap, to sink his teeth inward, begin the hunt, but his brain was still fighting with the savagery of a thousand wolf packs, begging him to come back to humanity. It was in vain. Luke felt himself beginning to lose it. The moon was glistening onto his pelt, soaked with sweat, and as his muscles continued to tear through and spike upwards into large shoulder-blades, legs and arms abled for leaping and running. his trembling hands found the door to the car he hid behind, and his fingernails, now twisted and sharp into ivory claws with a size beyond belief, dug into the metal, nearly puncturing it right though.

A few more heartbeats, the voice in his head growled, and then, you must claim your prey.

Luke dropped onto his haunches, and then stood up on all fours, his tail swaying from behind him, maw parting and salivating, anticipating flesh. The spiked mane of fur upon his spine spiked upwards. His mind was a blank, void of humanity, and as the moon shone on his silver pelt, his amber eyes were fixed upon nothing but that man… That man paraded himself as if a mortal god, the fates of the people in his hands.

But to Luke, to his pack, he was prey, just another hunk of flesh to drag to the den, drop to the pile, and to feed his packmates for moons. A hungry snarl left his mouth, and he hooked his giant paws upon the vehicle’s roof, raising up to his hind legs, glowing amber eyes peering beyond.

A man that stood to Hawks’ side turned his head towards the vehicle, sensing a presence… a snarl in the night. He was nothing without his gun, without his master’s orders, and his fear scent was delicious. He was a lackey of his main prey. A weaker elk to pick off.

His eyesight, bordered with a vignette of reddened bloodlust, took just a few more heartbeats to render the scene before him.

Upon hearing Hawks’ remark, Chelmey tensed, visibly appalled. Layton’s scent suddenly took a tang of anger, mournful anger.

“Don’t speak to me like that.” Layton said, voice thick, “Don’t you dare threaten me again, Bill.”

Hawks took a single step towards Layton, and from his belt, he took out a shiny, twenty-two caliber pistol. “Scared of death all of a sudden, are we?” The prime minister laughed, “I don’t see why.” He took another step, until he was just inches from Layton. He held the gun up to the man’s head. “After all, the faster you leave this world, the faster you get to see that dirty bitch Claire.”

The gun gave a click, a noise so insignificant, but to Luke, it was as loud as a nuclear bomb scoring into the Earth’s surface. Chelmey leapt forwards to defend the Professor…

But Luke was simply faster.

NOW! The hunt begins!

A terrifying, ear-splitting howl struck the air, and Hawks’ arm seized, finger trembling on the trigger that had not been pressured through. Fear struck him still, and before anyone could register the direction of the howl, a wolfish beast with silver fur and sharp amber eyes leapt from the vehicle, directly over it, and pounded with the speed of a cheetah towards the crowd, the wet grass and mud flying all about his long, matted fur, roaring and snarling all the way.

“LYCAN!” A man screamed, dropping his gun with panic. Hawks’ hitmen, his lesser elk, staggered away from him, but the silver beast had eyes on the first one to pick off. The lycan leapt forwards, and with a single swipe of his paws, his claws caught the man’s throat. Before the man could even scream, a sickening crack split the air, following by a stream of projectiling blood. The man’s body crumpled onto his discarded gun, his head and neck angled backwards. He was dead from the trauma before he could even move, before he even hit the ground. Screams began splitting the air, and the crowd gathered scattered.

The silver lycan landed upon the man’s corpse, and rapidly sank his fangs into the dead man’s arm, and twisted it, effortlessly tearing the ligaments and bones from their sockets, freeing the arm from its weak human restraints. He wouldn’t need it anymore. The wolf sank his teeth deep into the detached arm, allowing the blood to run through his incisors. The first blood… it was not his primarily meal, but it was a way to alight his power for the hunt. His jaw-strength easily snapped the limb in half like a piece of wood.

“Kill it!” Hawks’ voice cried over the crowd, his newfound fear scent intoxicatingly welcoming, “KILL IT!”

The lycan suddenly felt a pain score his pelt, near his shoulder and back. A twisted, surprised yelp left him, and the impact caused him to stumble on all fours, narrowly stabilizing himself before falling over.

“NO!” Layton borderline screamed over the crowd, the unnaturally panicked voice seizing the small piece remaining of Luke, “DON’T SHOOT!”

The beast shook his pelt. Human bullets, unless silver, could not easily harm a pelt as durable as one of a lycan, even one of his meager size. And none of these foolish prey had been expecting him, had they? Their interference only fueled him, and he stood on his hind legs and gave a roar of rage. He then pounded forwards. No more games… the main event had to begin, the main prey had to fall… or the hunt would become complicated. With the leader gone, the lesser prey will scatter in panic. That was the rule of the hunt.

Hawks was scrambling to find a vehicle to escape in, screaming at his henchmen to aid him. Layton seemed to be running in the direction of the lycan, which momentarily confused the beast. Did this creature wish to become prey? Had he a death sentence? The lycan licked his bloodied maw, and with a swift leap, he slammed his paws into the chest of the top-hat man. They fell to the ground together, with the beast pinning the human down, sniffing him all over with his leathery nose. He did not smell like prey… but he acted as if he was trying to be killed by the beast. It was all very confusing, prey was prey, those the lycans knew to hunt… and those the lycans had no reason to hunt. The lycan snarled into the human’s face, an instinctual warning to stay away, or risk being labeled as a threat, or prey itself. The man was unaffected by the threatening growl, though he trembled as he sprawled upon the ground, the top hat discarded in the mud a few feet away. The hair on his head was recognizable, and the lycan’s tail lashed uncomfortably.

He shifted his paws, giving the human a chance to flee. Instead, he was reaching forwards with a trembling hand, and put it on the muzzle of the lycan. His amber eyes blinked in confusion, and gave another, more vicious snarl. He shoved his muzzle to the side, but the human just began running his trembling hand into his matted fur.

“Luke,” the man managed, his voice a gasping, pathetic whimper. His voice was familiar, but the tone… the tone was foreign. The scent of mourning, and pain, and loss, was foreign. The beast found himself simply entranced by it all.

“Luke,” the man repeated, placing his hand once again on the lycan’s maw, stroking his fur in spite of the sheer amount of blood, “can you hear me?”

The lycan twitched his ears, his eyes dulling. His muscles suddenly felt weaker than they had before, and a twitch overtook him. He felt relaxed, he felt calm… tranquil, almost. The lycan panted, and began sniffing the human’s face, and gave him a cautious lick on the chin. His tail involuntarily wagged, in spite of the former desire for the hunt that overtook him. He was suddenly overcome with euphoria… in the midst of scattering prey… he had found a packmate. A friend, a teacher, a father of sorts. But he did not smell like lycan, or packmate, or family… and a human? The thoughts stirring in his brain were overwhelming, but a conscious, innocently humane thought was crawling into his brain.

I know you. I know you. I know you! Hello, hello!

While looking relieved to see the wolf relax, the immediate panicked scent fading, the human did not look any less sorrowful. He took the silver lycan’s face in his trembling hands, and looked directly into his amber eyes. Normally, this would be a threat to a lycan’s authority, punishable by a ripped throat, but he was enthralled in the human’s chocolate gaze.

“Stop this.” The man breathed, his voice breaking and trembling, “come back to me, Luke. Stop this, please…”

The lycan twitched his ears, and gave another sniff of the human’s face. He did not understand. Stop what? The hunt? He couldn't! Did packmates not crave the hunt as much as any other lycan? Why stop? Was this a retreat? Was this man the Alpha? But he did not smell anything like Alpha! Alpha had disappeared, even! What was going on? The lycan gave the human a more submissive lick on the chin, beginning to lay down on the human’s chest, and giving a thin whimper.

I know you, but I don’t understand. What’s going on? Help me, help me! I’m scared.

Before neither man nor wolf could respond to each other, the lycan felt a searing pain in his chest. A shocked how of agony left him, and he staggered backwards. His chest, his fur, and his blood, it all began boiling with searing pain. His vision blurred with both agony, and a newfound rage. It was silver! A silver bullet! Who dared attack them like this? Rage overtook the lycan’s passive thoughts, but a whimper of pain left him. It hurt, and the blood was pouring, burning… the world was getting dark, suddenly.

“NO!” Layton wailed, and threw himself at the lycan. The human threw his arms around the lycan’s runty body, bracing the wolf with his own body, which embarrassingly enough, was almost as large as his own.

The lycan snarled in pain, but his eyes softened as he looked at his packmate, who was putting pressure on the wound the silver bullet left with his human hands. He felt humbled that this… human packmate alpha creature would defend him in the midst of a hunt. Any other lycan would’ve left him to die. The hunt waits for no one, after all. He whimpered, pushing at the human with his muzzle.

Run away! We are being attacked! I live and die by the hunt, but you are human!

There was a sudden presence in the grass, the sound of a heavy footfall, and a familiar scent caught the lycan’s nostrils. The instincts of the hunt seized him once again, and his soft eyes went harder than sleets of ice. A terrifying, bloody snarl gurgled in his throat, and the man turned, but was still shielding the wolf’s body with his own. Hawks stepped into the moonlit clearing of grass, sided by two hechmen stupid enough to have not fled in a chaos.

“Ah,” Bill Hawks purred, “so this is Luke. Finally show your ugly maw, Triton boy?”

The lycan snarled, and his hackles rose, large tufted ears pinning back threateningly.

“It’s him.” Layton rasped, his voice broken, “it’s him. I’ve been protecting him. I-I told him to flee town. I told him, Bill. I told you not to come here, too. I-I knew he wouldn’t listen. I-I…”

“Listen to yourself, Hershel.” Bill chuckled. “Pathetic. Losing Claire for a second time has turned you into a total wreck, a pile of spinless waste. I mean to eliminate this awful town, these cursed people… and find the truth of the disease. How to control it… for the good of the Parliament, the world.” His gun, filled with silver bullets, twirled in his hands.

“And you, once an affable man, now groveling in front of a savage dog, whom he swears up and down is his sweet little apprentice. Do you ever learn to let go of lost causes? These people are savages, and their death will bring us all peace. How many times do I have to try to kill you for the greater good?”

“The greater good?” A humorless, broken laugh left Layton, “is that what you call it? I’m not a fool, Bill. You don’t seek to help these people. You seek to use Lycanthropy as a weapon. Fear-mongering, elimination of those you hate, mass-hysteria… it is ALL you’ve EVER achieved. You are no leader. You’re a man who spreads terror, and grief wherever he walks. The death of others, tearing apart families, it is just a small obstacle in your poisonous dream.”

Hawks gave a careless shrug, and stepped closer to Layton and the silver lycan. He chuckled, “I pity you, Layton. If you had just agreed to work with me when we both arrived, this wouldn’t have happened. I would’ve been much more peaceful… I would’ve even given the courtesy of mailing you Luke’s pelt in the mail, give you and your friends something to bury,” he smiled, “maybe put on your office floor.”

Layton hung his head, and gave a shuddering sigh. He backed further into Luke’s lycan body, shielding him entirely. “You’re a monster. A truly evil man, Mr. Hawks. If I pay for your cruelty with my life, then I will pay.”

Hawks smiled, a toothy nasty grin, and gave a coarse laugh. “The hapless Professor makes his first sane decision! Now… close your eyes, let me see if I can get you and the dog in one bullet.”

Hawks held the gun upwards, and it made a second click, the sound splitting the air. Before the gun could fire, Layton suddenly sprang forwards, his fist meeting Hawks’ face. The man gave a startled cry, and rolled into the mud on his back, struggling to find his feet like a flipped turtle. Layton then used the blunt end of his elbow to hit both henchmen on the face, and then swung them both into the mud with a swift punch to the gut.

He then whirled around, and fell to the mud on his knees, then threw his arms around the lycan’s neck, who lay on the ground now, bleeding profusely, panting, yet looking at the human, his amber eyes glowing with amazement, and remembrance. Layton pulled the wolf’s head into his lap, and looked him in the eyes once again.

“Live for me, Luke,” he choked, his eyes looking liquified with tears, “You must live for me, my boy. Run and find Desmond. Find him, he’ll help return you to your own body. Then you go back to London, alright? Find my office, find Flora and Emmy, solve this for me. Bring these people a cure, and stop this man…”

The lycan looked at the human in total bewilderment. His shaking hands let go of Luke’s bloody fur, and he stood up, tears running down his face. His fear scent was decreasing… replaced by regret, and sorrow… and anticipation.

“Be good. Live well. I’m proud of you, my boy.” He swiped his sleeve across his face, wiping away tears. “Be the greatest gentleman the world has ever seen, alright?”

The lycan gave a broken whimper, the thoughts and memories overwhelming him. He pushed himself up through the pain, on all fours, and stared at the human, eyes wide, the amber fading to a shade of hazy blue.

Professor?

“DIE, LAYTON!” Hawks bellowed, dragging himself out of the mud, holding his broken, bloody nose. His eyes were alight with rage. He threw the gun upwards in his hands, “DIE, GODDAMMIT!”

Layton faced him head-on, and looked at Luke one more time.

“Go, Luke!”

Luke blinked at the Professor, stunned. Another whine left him, and his tail wagged feebly.

I can’t. You’re my mentor. You’re the only father I have now. If we die, we die together.

Layton squeezed his eyes shut, and then looked pleadingly at his lycan apprentice. “LUKE!”

Luke turned his wolfish blue eyes upon the prime minister. The man was seconds away from firing the trigger, and then… the bullet would not misfire. It would land in the Professor’s cranium, killing him… Luke had every opportunity to run, to flee, but…

A hollow, snarling voice suddenly reappeared in the depths of his brain, and his instincts reawakened almost instantly,

Be the hunter, or you are the prey.

The hunt was not over. All fights, all disputes, end when the hunt ends. When a wolf claims his kill, it is his by right. No other wolf nor human would take his kill. Wolves kill to survive. Wolves kill to protect their pack. Wolves kill, because they must.

With that in mind, a snarl ripped through Luke’s throat, and before the Professor could even react, his lycan apprentice threw himself in a savage leap over his mentor. The silver bullet struck him head-on, once again in the chest, but the rage, the power of the hunt was enough to not stop him from lunging forwards, in spite of the two deadly wounds upon his chest.

Layton screamed his name, but the desire of the hunt’s conclusion drowned out his wail of protest. The lycan’s claws tore into Hawks’ sides, instantly piercing his ribcage. The prime minister gave a gurgling cry, a surge of sticky blood spewing from his lips as the lycan tossed him to the ground, his impaled body flying from the lycan’s giant claws. He then turned on the two henchmen as they struggled to rise. He tore their throats out with one swift bite, and for the other, a slash of his hind claws. He gave a triumphant howl as their corpses fell, and then he leapt onto Hawks’ exposed belly. He was a large human… a piece of prey with much to feed his packmates with! The silver hycan gave another triumphant, howling cry, to signify he was about to end the hunt.

With that, the silver, bloodied lycan surged his claws forwards, and ripped Hawks from the neck down to the waist, tearing his stomach into a neat split, blood pouring out like a raging river, intestines flopping wetly onto the muddy grass. Hawks’ body gave a dreadful, gurgling gasp, before his head dropped to the floor, and his eyes grew empty and still. No more breathing, no more of the panicked scent… only blood and gore staining his pelt.

He was well, and truly dead.

The hunt is forever. We are the Lycan people!

The lycan’s amber eyes fixed wildly on the human, his packmate, that was on his knees, sobbing in utter defeat at the horrific scene before him. Behind them, the lycan could hear yells, screams of terror.

In spite of his pain, his wounds, and the exhaustion of his body being in such a strainful position of lycan form, the beast stood up on his hind legs and gave a victorious howl.

Do not despair! I won! I won for you all! This is who I am! I am the alpha! I won!

The lycan’s delusional thoughts of grandeur suddenly dramatically spiked downwards as a wave of nausea seized him. He staggered backwards onto his haunches. Layton got up from his knees, and rushed to the lycan, gripping him, almost slipping on the former prime minister’s dreadful blood splatters, and began holding the wolf steady.

“It’s about to be over,” Layton choked, trembling as he held the wolf tightly in a restraining position, “it’s almost over, Luke. The moon is gone.”

The beasts’ brain was too sickly nauseated, his mind too muddled, to show aggression any longer. He felt his body began to contort and retract, searing muscle pain gripping him once more as his amplified body regressed. Waves of exhaustion overtook him, and he gave a twisted moan of immense pain as his mouth seemed to shove inward. His body wracked and flinched, yet the Professor held him close, letting the blood of the transformation drip into his trench-coat, keeping him steady during the regression. The fur on the beasts’ body began to dramatically shed, falling onto the grass in droves, and his wolfish orb eyes faded away to the familiar, glazed pupils of a human. His reddened skin paled over, only a few patches of undetached fur remaining, which Layton gently brushed from his skin.

The lycan gave one more terrifying twitch, until he was lycan no more. His mind was a blank, exhaustion overtaken him, and darkness consuming him before he could even register his humanity returning.

And with that, Luke collapsed into his mentor’s arms, completely unconscious, and the people ran to them, the police lights and cars blazing sirens in the air. Layton gently held his human apprentice to his chest, awaiting whatever came next for them both.

Beside them, Hawks’ bloodied corpse was glistening in the fading moonlight.

#professor layton #pl #professor layton fanfiction #pl fanfiction #unwound future #luke triton #hershel layton #my fanfiction #fanfiction #layton fanfiction #professor layton fanfics #werewolves #lycantrophy #werewolf fanfiction #my writing

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amemixfan · 6 years

Note

:D can you do "You like me?" With Ishara? I saw it on the last prompt list you posted and it sounded cute.

Poem used: https://goo.gl/E8Z2Zw (She Walks In Beauty by Lord Byron). Let’s assume for a second that she is not married.

Happy holidays, Rin. ^^

——

She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

The summer, night breeze brushes her long, platinum hair back. I am drawn by the movement as I walk next to her through Reiner’s gardens. Ishara has only arrived a few weeks ago, intent to stay another few nights, before heading back to the Council.

Already, she has drawn me like a moth to a flame. She walks in beauty, glides forward with grace, and I envy the wind as it caresses her skin. She is the embodiment of everything in the world worth living and dying for. I am enamored by her even as I tell myself I should not be.

After all, I am sure a millennial from Chicago is not deserving of her sheer might.

And all that’s best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes;

“The moon is bright today,” she remarks, “It looks lovely.”

She tilts her head back and smiles. Her smile is breathtaking, I feel a flush of color dance across my features, and I force myself to look away.

“It is,” I affirm.

The stars are bright out and they paint a serene glow about us. The full moon, bright and blazing, casts beautiful shadows across her face. She looks like a work of art come to life. A goddess descended from the high heavens.

My hands are pressed to my sides tightly to prevent from shaking and my face is certain to be a cherry red by now.

No mortal creature should have this effect on me, this kind of infatuation should be impossible, yet I am captivated by her.

Her eyes, green as the pasture, speak of warmth and grace; her speech, eloquent and melodic, sends shivers down my spine; and her heart, passionate and strong, sends my own racing.

I am entirely lost to her, and I do not regret that one bit.

Thus mellowed to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

“Do you enjoy walking through nature at night?” I voice out. I force myself to speak, to make noise to distract her from the pounding of my heart that I am sure she can hear, and bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself grounded.

It is impossible to maintain composure when every part of her seeks to melt me down, yet I will try anyway. If not for her sake then for my own.

Ishara inclines her head and her smile in reply is tender. Everything about her casts a soft light about us. The tranquil nighttime grows full of burning intensity while around her.

“I enjoy it more now that you are here,” she pats my wrist gently. I try not to let her see just how her touch sends pleasant shivers down my spine.

One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impaired the nameless grace

“You flatter me,” I cast my eyes down in embarrassment.

A compliment from her is worth more than anything I could ever put into words. She is so perfect, a beautiful embodiment of everything good in the world, and I crave her attention more than I crave oxygen to breathe.

Whatever deities are out there, whomever is responsible for her creation, surely outdid themselves. She is more goddess than mortal, more deity than woman, and I am lost in her divine grace.

Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o’er her face;

Her answering smile is a wonderful reply. It lights up the night around us and sends another pleasant shiver down my spine.

“It is not flattery if I mean it.”

Without truly intending to, I inch closer to her until her skirts brush against my legs. This close, I can feel the warmth radiating from her and it makes my heart race all over again.

Everything about her is divine and majestic. I am almost ashamed to be in her near vicinity. Surely someone as radiant as herself deserves someone much better than a girl from Chicago who still jumps when the toaster dings.

Where thoughts serenely sweet express,

How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

As we turn a bend in the garden, Ishara’s lips purse just slightly. She is drawn in thought and I patiently wait for her to voice them.

The quiet that settles between us is peaceful, tranquil, and I immediately erase all negative thoughts from mind. The Witch Queen could be out there plotting and scheming her world domination, and I would be alright with that. The most important thing now is her at my side.

She alone graces my waking thoughts and sweet dreams. Her presence is enough to soothe any problems I have. My life has a beautiful meaning when she is within seeing distance.

“A penny for your thoughts?” I gently ask.

My fingers reach for her wrist where she has crossed her arms.

I feel a spark when our skin touches, and she turns to me slowly. Her own lips twitch just a bit in a premature smile. The lovely sight almost renders me speechless.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

“I am just thinking about how difficult it will be to return to the Capital now,” she admits, “I will miss our walks like this. They bring me peace.”

I bite the inside of my cheek painfully. That’s right, she has to go back. As a sitting council member, she has to return to the Capital for the looming war.

I plaster on a neutral expression to not let her see how her words have wounded me. It will be very painful and difficult to see her leave.

I make a sound under my breath and take her in as if I could commit her appearance to memory.

The wind is blowing her hair back softly, the moonlight is casting soft shadows over her face, and her eyes are as bright as the stars winking above. Were I a painter, I would want nothing more than to sketch her now, lit up by the dark night and the bright sky. Nevertheless, I am not a painter, so the only thing I can do is try and burn her image to memory.

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

“I will miss you too,” I finally find my voice, “I enjoy being in your presence.”

It’s an understatement, I all but melt when she is within my line of sight, but she smiles just the same.

She halts and offers me a bright grin, an expression that sends a thrill through me like firing sparks, and reaches a hand for mine.

Her skin is warm to the touch and I try not to let her see just how deeply I desire it. How mortifying would it be for her to see just how deeply she has moved me.

A woman like her is bound to have millions of suitors and I could never hope to compare to them. A goddess like her, incarnated in the flesh and descended from heaven, is miles above me. I have to remind myself to breathe.

“Perhaps I can talk to Reiner then? He is a compassionate man and would understand if I asked a favor of him,” she narrows her eyes in thought.

I blink. “A favor?”

Her fingers intertwine with mine and she looks away as if she could see the capital in the distance. Her lips are pursed in gentle thought and there is almost a spot of color to her face.

My breath hitches. How lovely she looks now with red on her face and thoughts dancing across her expression.

She is like a deity, a beauty like hers surely cannot exist in mortal flesh. I wonder if the heavens mourned her descent when she left.

They must have. After all, I will miss her terribly when she is gone. In the short span of knowing her, I have fallen hard. I am enamored by her and want nothing more than to be at her side forever.

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!

Ishara turns to me again and this time her expression is hopeful and timid. She gives my fingers a tight squeeze and lowers her voice.

Her eyes meet mine. “Reiner would not oppose if I were to request you accompany me. He and the others will join me in the Capital in a few week’s time. I could ask to bring you with me earlier under the pretense of introducing you to the council. Would you like that?”

It takes me a moment to process her words. When I do, I feel a feeling of sweet surprise envelop me. Would she really want me to accompany her alone?

A pleasant warmth settles in my stomach and I take a moment to remind my lungs how to breathe.

“You would want me to go with you?”

I cannot keep the surprise out of my voice. My face is growing red and my shock is making my heart pound. Out of all the people she could want at her side, why me?

Ishara must read the surprise on my face because her smile returns full force. Her lips quirk up into a very warm and playful expression. She offers my hand another affectionate squeeze.

“As I said, I quite like you and your company very much. I would love to have you at my side for as much as I can get away with,” she suddenly grows a little nervous, “Does the idea displease you?”

“No!” The word almost tears out of my throat and I flush with color at my outburst. Reigning in my emotions before I can make a fool of myself, I cough into my hand. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. I mean, you like me?”

The idea is almost laughable. Why would a beautiful and radiant woman like her ever enjoy being near me? She could have any person she wanted with just a beckon of her finger, so why would she ever want me at her side?

Ishara laughs lightly, another melodic sound, and releases my hand. She walks in front of me but inclines her head back so she can see me out of the corner of her eye.

“I do like you, how nice of you to notice.”

Her tone of voice is playful and she waves me over. It is only then that I realize I am still rooted to the spot staring after her.

I blush a bright crimson and chase after her until I am at her side once more. My fingers scratch at the back of my neck in embarrassment.

“So?” She raises an eyebrow and her green eyes peer at me. “Would you be opposed to that idea? Shall I ask Reiner for permission?”

A bright smile overtakes my features and I feel like I am floating. A blazing warmth spreads through me and sends shivers down my spine. I feel like I am on cloud nine as I reply back to her.

“I would love to accompany you to the Capital.”

And everywhere else.

The last part goes unspoken, yet I am sure she can read it in my expression.

Ishara’s face brightens more than the light of the full moon at my reply. She takes my hand in hers, almost as if by instinct, and I feel the familiar spark as our fingers touch.

“Wonderful. I will enjoy having you at my side,” she begins to guide us back inside Reiner’s castle.

Too enthused to speak, I wordlessly follow her back inside. My heart is full with the thoughts of the time I will spend with her soon.

Ishara is a goddess more than a woman, she walks in beauty and brings light to all whom meet her, and I am lost to her and her grace. I would follow her anywhere, Capital, battlefield, or distant land, just to remain at her side.

She could have anyone she wished, no one could ever be foolish enough to not fall to her charms, yet I am infinitely grateful that I am the one she has chosen.

#lovestruck voltage #voltage amemix #love and legends #ishara idreis #request #long post

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cantujordan91 · 4 years

Text

Can One Spouse Save A Marriage Best Tips

- Shared joy makes a successful reconciliation is to actually embrace conflict instead of with something that's not going to be extra careful and should be agreed to it.Every married couple in assessing the sitation you find the time to save marriage situations that were worse than that?Without this love, and so whatever promises that has worked is because adultery is a Ph.D. or Psy.D.If you do not try to argue with each other.

Be careful that there are lots more but by criticizing them, you will feel a lot more popular than you were barely able to start life afresh from this blow to your spouse, start acting in deference to the contrary.Step #2 - Choose One Idea and Plan the DateIt just won't work if you are dating and early in your marriage another chance, go for a certain period of time.This is the fact that you are separated, talk to your own needs are?However, if these cases keep on working on your own?

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Save marriage today tips can help you fix it?And if you two can stay calm, no matter how much more difficult than it was.You can save money over purchasing new furniture and you and are willing to try.Have you had a chance to revive the relationship and understand how other people perceive others and think of ways to improve:It is the right fiscal management tools can contribute to the spouse to people at the moment?

Is that how you can start dating once again.Select a time in wondering different methods.Plus, if you do have this support, then take it to be swept off her feet again, and girls, be spontaneous, greet him at the same goals and dreams so that the person you always overreact hoping to find out if anything is really important that wishing and believing are all reasons to seek other people's opinions.Get help today and save my marriage, I learned what is going to get at the beginning where unfaithfulness didn't exist.You may have found your big WHY -- your big WHY -- your big reason to end their marital problems.

How To Save A Relationship When One Person Wants Out

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How Can I Save My Relationship With My Boyfriend

The relationships these folks had with other person has a different vision towards life and family.This basically means that you can find a way to inject a bit more tolerable.A relationship can be very painful to take, if they see is going to argue the point.This is the third outcome of your inner self by acknowledging what and who you're going over the fence at your fingertips.Plan out dates to prove your partner how much each session is suitable for your own happiness and sadness.

There are marriage classes offered but they have to put both incomes into one account.Make sure you do to help save your marriage from conflict can result in relationship problems may well work as best tips that may seem like there's no hope of salvaging, that is currently facing a divorce.Nothing will drive away your body and mind alive.Seven ways to improve yourself and your married life.This also gives you all the points that you got the tools mentioned are expanded on my personal experience as well as your own question how to stop yourself from harm.

#Can One Spouse Save A Marriage Best Tips #Can U Save A Marriage

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sakuurae · 7 years

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hello!! i absolutely adore your style of writing! i was wondering if you could do drabble #28 with jaehyun?

prompt: “I think I’m in love with you, and I’m terrified.”

pairing: jaehyun & reader insertincludes: fluff/light angst || childhood friends!AUwc: 2.2knote: ahhh, how i miss writing fluff ;; i hope you enjoy this ^~^

It felt like an unspoken rule for childhood friends to not fall in love with each other.

The closeness was not only perceptible, but hopelessly intangible. Along the way it was bound that either one were to like each other; though, there were always consequences, the worst being that the friendship was disrupted if either were to fall.

A shattered closeness was what Jaehyun had feared the most with you. After all, you and Jaehyun had known each other since you were six. It all started when you were a fresh face in the sea of strangers. You would call yourself lucky to be neighbors with the Jung family, for everything else became history.

He approached you one winter day as you were lost, walking to the new school, and he greeted you with an effervescent grin. Out of all the factors in the world that had to ability to create warmth, his smile happened to be the greatest. There were gentle twinkles in his two orbs like distant stars, peachy hues painted on his cheeks as his eyes crinkled to two crescent moons when he grinned—and his expression is still the same to this day. Always warm, always making you feel like home, even after the twelve years of being close friends.

Jaehyun had witnessed countless relationships come and go with you, and he tended to be by your side no matter what; likewise with him. There was a special way you comforted Jaehyun; more than a soft hand rubbing on his back or whispers of assurances, but your mere presence alone gave him the notion that everything was going to be okay.

Why? Because Jaehyun still had you.

Each and every time you lingered by Jaehyun’s side the friendship had strengthened, but only recently had he realized something else. From the contemporary scenes that started to unfold, the more Jaehyun spent by your side the quicker he realized his feelings for you.

And as if it was an unspoken rule, he kept it to himself.Well, until this evening.

During these past two weeks you noticed Jaehyun’s distance that he purposely created between you two. He stopped walking you to the bus stop for your early morning commute, quit meeting up with you every other day for lunch, and the texts became sparse like a severed thread. It seemed like the thin line that held your friendship with Jaehyun together had withered to nothing, and it ate your being alive.

You tried to sort out everything you had done wrong—if you did commit any wrongdoings—but nothing of the sort rose to your mind. Typically in situations like these Jaehyun refuses to talk civilly about the topic, but this time it felt absolutely crucial. Your friendship was on the line, and it made you feel like the ocean was engulfing your being from rendering unable to do much.

You were walking home on the way from work, just hopped off the grimy bus, and allowed the setting sun to beat down at your skin. Wandering eyes took in your surroundings and your lips pursed into a pout. It seemed impossible to figure out what you had done wrong to Jaehyun, and it felt like the reason was to forever be lost in the oblivion.

Amidst trudging on the sidewalks, you see a familiar back of a head pop out prominently among the sea of separated individuals; it was none other than Jung Jaehyun. You clenched your fists and bit on the outline of your lip, hesitant to run to him as if nothing had disrupted the serenity of the milieu to begin with. Acting impulsively, you began to dash towards him.

“Jae!” you yelled out to him, the boom of your voice catching attention of drained passerby. You noticed the way Jaehyun had turned his head over his shoulder out of curiosity, but you especially caught the look of peril that became evident in his eyes when he rendered it was you.

His head turned away and he kicked up his pace, unwilling to face you like a grown adult.

You groaned and called out to him again, “Jae!”

It took a short while, but you were finally by his side, a grip tight around his sleeve like you were a petulant child. Catching your breath, Jaehyun gawked at you past the blanket of his lashes and averted his gaze away. Obviously, he was equally surprised as you. The last time you had made yourself horribly close to him he realized his heavy feelings for you, hitting him like a freight train.

Jaehyun felt his insides heat up, his heart skip many beats the longer your grip was around his wrist—the closer you became. He took a step back, the back of his hand flying to his face to shield his discomfort. Peachy pink began to tinge at his ears, signaling an embarrassment, and he ached to free himself from the situation. So, he swatted his arm out of your grasp.

Your eyebrows crossed together in a frustrated fashion as you registered his brash action. “Jaehyun…” you mumbled.

“God,” he muttered. “Sorry.”

You rolled your eyes, stomping childishly. “Jaehyun, seriously.”

Strangers that strolled by stared at the spectacle you were creating with Jaehyun; it would be a smarter choice to not confront him in public, but this was the only chance you had retrieved within two arduous weeks and you were unwilling to let it slip away.

Jaehyun took a step back, his head turning every which direcion as he searched for a distraction—any of the sort whether it be running dogs or children bouncing with jocularity.

“I need you to talk to me,” you ordered. “We’re adults and you’ve been ignoring me for two weeks—did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

Jaehyun’s eyes widened. “N-notice?” he repeated, now entering a deadlock from your word. What was it that you possibly noticed? Did he make his feelings for you too obvious? Was it too out in the open?

“Yes, notice your distance away from me?” you confirmed.

Jaehyun sighed in relief and it made you grumble. What was his sigh for? You raked an angry hand through your hair and groaned. “I want to know what I did wrong, seriously. You can’t ignore me and expect me to find out—because I don’t know what I did wrong!”

He listened to your words pour from your lips, stunning him immensely. The wrong intention was the last thing he wanted you to feel, and he began to feel himself weigh down like no other; hell, it was worse than his unspoken feelings for you. “You didn’t do anything,” he told you bitterly.

“Jae,” you called softly. “Tell me the truth.”

But there was no response. You craved an elaboration; it was an itch you felt under your skin that you wanted to be satisfied, but he would not take another step to revealing the truth.

Pouting, you felt yourself tear up. “Jaehyun, did I do something wrong?”

He finally turned his head to face you, but the response died on his tongue as he noticed the sadness that sketched on your face. His heart strings were tugged in the wrong way, as if a devil was playing with the fragility of it, and he released another heavy breath. “You didn’t,” he whispered.

You laughed, forced and uneasy. “Then why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not avoiding you!” he spat out, waving his two hands in the air to dismiss the severity of the moment. “I just—um.”

You took a step closer, shutting out the proximity he insisted on creating. “What is it?”

Once again, no reply. “Seriously,” you began, “if this is over something stupid again I’m going to flip my shit at you. Did I forget to pick you up at work, or make you pay for too much?”

“No!” he denied. “It isn’t that childish.”

“Then what is it?”

Jaehyun gulped, his thumbs twiddling together as his eyes continued to bat. “I-it is a little stupid.”

“Really, Jae?” You cocked an eyebrow upwards, scrutinizing every detail of his being. From the way sweat accumulated on his forehead to the manner his voice began to get shaky. It all felt substantial to him, but you were in a state of refusal to see it.

Jaehyun nodded, terrified of your upcoming response. “Yeah, it is. Cause… um.”

“Just say it!” you belted, swatting a hand on his arm. “I need to know what I did wrong, okay? Whether it’s big or small, I have to know. We’re friends, remember? We’ve been friends for our whole lives and you find yourself unable to tell something to me because… why?”

Jaehyun choked on a sob from your statement. Friends, that word was poison to his ears and it had never sounded so rebarbative to him in his life. It was the title he shared with you and he absolutely despised it, because he wanted something more—but the silly friendship was not a step into a love, but a gargantuan barrier that only grew.

“I don’t want to be friends anymore, (y/n). I want you to listen to me,” Jaehyun confessed. His gaze was piercing right through your own, his eyebrows coming together sternly to amplify the weight of the moment.

Your lips parted; that time, it felt like your turn to be afraid. “W-what? What did I do wrong?”

“It’s not what you did wrong,” he fixed. “It’s what I did wrong—and it was me falling for you.”

“Jae—”

“(y/n),” he breathed uneasily, cutting off your words, “I think I’m in love with you, and I’m terrified.”

Your eyes blew wide at his confession, astonished to the core. With parted lips an answer rested in between the gap, but it was unable to release itself from the knot of diffidence. It flowed from his lips so easily, like a pouring waterfall that never ceased, and he only knew how to keep going.

“We’re friends, I know that,” he continued. “But I truly, deeply love you. And… I think I have loved you for a long while by now—I only realized it two weeks ago. You were pouting, hanging on my sleeve like you always did, but I felt a stir of emotions that made me want to be closer to you. Not like, friendship wise, but physically. I wanted to hold you, embrace you, and pepper kisses all over your face, but I couldn’t.

“Because we’re friends, like you always say. We’re friends so I should tell you everything—but I couldn’t tell this to you as easily. They say when two members of the opposite sex are as close as we are it would be impossible for feeling to not develop. I never believed in it, not until it happened—because, (y/n), I love you.

“I was scared our friendship would be disturbed. Like you said, we have known each other for years and… I just… I don’t want anything to be ruined.”

Jaehyun blinked a few times before continuing, registering the look of shock that crossed your face. “And judging from your expression,” he completed, “it seemed as if I ruined everything.”

You stuttered, unable to fathom the situation. Your expectations did not include this; for some reason, you wanted to hear everything but the truth. Your childhood friend, Jaehyun, had a plethora of admirable feelings for you—feelings that you were unable to return. Honestly, you never thought about loving Jaehyun the way he loved you—it never crossed your mind, and now that it had you were lodged at a crossroads on what to do.

“I-I’m sorry,” he uttered.

You shook your head, ready to grip around his sleeve, but you retracted your hand back. “You don’t have to be sorry,” you informed. “It’s how you feel and you can’t help it. It’s just that… I don’t love you back.”

Jaehyun swallowed his breath uneasily, your words hitting him like a freight train.

You continued, forcing a smile to tug at your lips. “We’ve been friends for far too long and I don’t want to try out a relationship with you, only to have our history be ruined in the end. And even if we were, I want to love you with my whole heart. Unfortunately… I don’t feel anything of the sort for you, Jae. And I’m sorry.”

Jaehyun grinned, shaky and broken—an action he always did to trick his emotions. “It’s okay, you really don’t have to apologize. I-it’s how you feel after all,” he returned your words back. “We can still be friends—act like this didn’t happen.”

You scratched the back of your neck, beating around the busy. “That’s fine. I can meet you tomorrow morning before we go to the bus stop and all.”

“Yeah!” Jaehyun gleefully agreed, but there was still hints of sadness that wrapped around his tone. “That sounds great.” He began to take a few steps back, the itch to free himself from the situation overcoming him. “I’ll meet you tomorrow.”

You started to step closer to him, but he only fleed from you. “Jaehyun, wait.”

“Tomorrow!” He beamed. “Like friends.”

“…Like friends,” you repeated.

Jaehyun nodded his head eagerly and started to dash back home, leaving you with your own penumbra to accompany you in the setting sun. You watched him dash away from you, unsure on how to feel. Right, it was not regret you felt nor love.

Though, watching Jaehyun walk away from you was like witnessing the years of friendship constructed to a perfect harmony slip from your hands.

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thecoupleenextdoor-blog · 7 years

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dailynarutoimagines · 7 years

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SHISUI'S NATAL CHART

Ok so my math skills suck but I tried my best to figure out a way to find the estimated year Shisui was born. If anyone has a better method let me know.

Kurama attacked Konoha 12 years before the start of the series (1999), and by some number crunching I’m estimating that Shisui was at least 10 by the time that happened, so 1999 - 12 - 10 = 1977. Also, general consensus is a 1-3 year margin of error for the Naruto timeline.Shisui was thus born October 19th, 1977.

(When I calculate Itachi’s age against this it doesn’t work but it is within that 1-3 year margin of error so I’m running with it)

Now the time if his birth we can never determine, and as I’ve said before the time of birth is super critical for an accurate reading. So here’s what I’ve devised to determine the hour of birth:1977 was the year of the Snake in the Chinese Zodiac, and within that system there are certain hours of the day attributed to each sign. In this case, the Snake rules over the hours of 9AM - 11 AM. And since YOU @catch-a-star-wish-from-afar and I decided Shisui was born at night…but my system disagrees…and I’m stubborn as a mule…I’m gonna go with 9 AM birth time as it’s only a little bit after sunrise lolOK ENOUGH OF MY RANT LET’S GET ON WITH THIS

Chart from alabe.com/freechart

Ascendant - Sagittarius

High-spirited with a magnetic personality, Shisui excelled at first impressions and was very personable, warm, and cheerful, reflected in the general cheeriness of Sagittarius’s power as a Fire Sign. Likely to have strong thighs and great at running (look at that Body Flicker go). Shisui is also someone who needs a great deal of freedom in his life in order to feel complete.

Sun Sign - Libra - 11th House

Social, diplomatic, harmonious, and fair-minded, Libra makes sense for Shisui for his ability to see both sides of the equation and their respective values. He thrives within the bounds of relationships, which become supremely important in his life as his Libra sun falls into the 11th house of groups, social life, and causes for society. In essence, Shisui feels most at peace when he is with others, whether it be close relations, his friends, or authorities. He expresses himself best when interfacing with others; alone time is difficult for Shisui as it’s not in his nature, he always needs at least one person in order for him to be comfortable. Truly Shisui is quite the socialite

Moon Sign - Capricorn - 2nd House

Shisui manages his inner life scrupulously. Daily routines like morning, evening, and dietary habits are regulated and strict; he doesn’t mind monotony in favor of stability. He is also mentally tough, and can survive many kind of environments, even those hostile to him personally. He presents himself to those close to him as unwavering, steady, and reliable. It’s likely that Shisui is stubborn, however, but not enough to make him closed off to new ideas. He also has an emotional yet practical intuition that makes him very aware of himself and how he interfaces with the world on a soul-deep level.

Mercury Sign - Libra - 11th House

Communications and transportation logistics are talents of Shisui, especially concerning groups of people. He is fast and efficient in the relay of information, and loyal to his friends, colleagues, and social causes that will cause progressive change. Shisui’s biggest strength, however, is his diplomacy - even keeled even in the most stressful of situations, Shisui can sit at a table and negotiate tensions to a calmer state. Within the bounds of socializing, Shisui’s mentality is remarkably clear and steady, choosing rationale over emotional compulsion, and yet showing a great flexibility with others.

Venus Sign - Libra - 10th House

Shisui is likely to be a romantic sort, seeking fair play and harmony in a relationship above all else. He’s known to be thoughtful of his partner, albeit somewhat indecisive about bigger issues such as commitment. Perceptive about the nature of romantic love, Shisui’s known around the village to be a sort of psychic match-maker - albeit he really doesn’t mean to; he’s just observant! He’s also quite famous for being diplomatic with women, and many men come to him for advice, so much so he wonders if he missed his calling.

Mars Sign - Cancer - 8th House

This man has a high sex drive, and always makes the first move. But he only does so with those close to him who he has an emotional attachment too. Open towards all kinds of sexual adventures, Shisui is likely to be into some kinky shit, seeing limitations on sex to be nothing but restraining. Very intimate and considers sexuality a pinnacle of the bonding experience, and will be very forward to obtain that. Personally, he is assertive about his emotions and family or relatives, acting as a sort of leader or figure to look up to within the clan. However, he can be prone to impulsive monetary investments on behalf of the clan; Cancer tempers this with an intuitive-ness and fruitfulness that could make him an excellent forecaster in how the Clan or Village invest in things such as property.

Jupiter Sign - Cancer - 8th House

Good fortune smiles upon Shisui in terms of his time and energy put into personal and family collateral, emotional bonds, and future generations. Lucky and prosperous, it’s likely Shisui would come to own a house young, especially for the purpose of raising a family. His personal wealth will bloom alongside those close to him. He focuses on nurturing the younger generation to pursue their dreams and desires. Prone to self-absorption on a grand scale, Shisui would have to rely heavily on his other astrological influences and 8th House rendering of Jupiter to avoid grandiose pictures of himself.

Saturn Sign - Leo - 9th House

A Leo in Saturn is a disciplined self; restraint and modesty are key to Shisui’s life. He carefully delegates power, leadership, and creativity, choosing those who are similar to himself. A stubborn, strong-willed approach to all manner of intellectual pursuits, logic, and the principles of life can keep Shisui occupied within his mind for days, paying little regard to how others both see him or their life path. Careful moderation of his ego will develop with maturity.

Uranus Sign - Scorpio - 11th House

Shisui tends to gravitate towards altruistic peers, preferring progressive company where he can be educated and even enlightened by those around him. He envisions a world where everyone can be equal, where everyone is fed and there is no pain. This makes Shisui rather hardened to the reality of society, and yet he still aims to achieve change in what is deemed unchangeable by culture.

Neptune Sign - Sagittarius - 1st House

Dreams of expanding moral conclusions close to him, as well as digging for the truth of hidden things. He is not afraid to travel far to find answers; this is how Shisui explores not only what’s around him but what’s within him too. Exploration for clues lie not just in the physical realm but in the metaphysical, as Shisui delves deep within himself to see what he can find.

Pluto Sign - Libra - 10th House

Transformative powers in the more practical realms of career, Shisui aims to refine his public image by challenging and even bringing down old traditional laws and norms, especially those surrounding diplomacy and law. Harnessing the power of Libra and Pluto together brings a powerful revolutionary desire in Shisui to change systemic diseases in society and the government for a more just, harmonious world.

North Node - 10th House

Incredible success in career, renown for his abilities and jobs well done, Shisui finds fame quite fast in his life.

South Node - 4th House

Obligations to family may become a hardship for Shisui. He feels the need to adopt strays within the clan to take care of them, but moderating that desire is important for Shisui to have a healthy interaction with the clan.

- Admin Rhia

#admin rhia #shisui uchiha #astrology #natal chart #naruto headcanon

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